#my rigger stood and laughed at me

[prettylikepearls]

Are star harnesses beginner level and mostly for fashion? Yes

Do you really care tho? Because I sure dont

[captainlondonman]

Book keeper to Workie

The employment agency called Rob to let him know that there was a job going down at the new building site as a book keeper and that he could start straightaway. Having been made redundant a few months ago he leapt at the chance and said of course he would turn up the following day. Not sure what to wear he decided better not too casual so put on a pair of chinos, a shirt and tie. He’d never worked or even been on a building site before and was not sure how it would be working along side a bunch of workies who were probably all quite rough.

‘However, it is at least a job’ he thought.

Turning up the next day he could see quite a large group of workies all in full Hi Viz with helmets milling around.

‘Excuse me, can you tell where the main office is please as I’ve come to do the bookkeeping’, Rob asked rather gingerly.

‘Christ what do we have here, a little posh boy looking ever so smart’ one of the guys said.

 ‘Shit lad you had better change a bit here with all of us. Make sure you use the word”fuck” in front of everything’

The others laughed and one said

‘Quit it lads, give the youngster a chance. ‘I’m Jeff by the way. Suppose you want to see the Boss?’

‘Yes please’

‘Go over to that portacabin and knock. He should be inside. Good luck.’

Rob went over and knocked at the door. A gruff voice shouted out

‘Who the fuck is there. What do you want. Get inside.’

Rob stepped inside and saw the backview of the Boss who was sitting at a computing screen which suddenly went black as he went in. The Boss swiveled round in his chair. He was large with shaven sides to his hair but a short cut dark black centre . He had a thick but well trimmed beard and was stocky built wearing, rigger boots, jeans, white shirt and tie and padded Hi Viz jacket.  When he stood up Rob could see he must be around 6’3” and for a moment Rob could see a large bulge down one side of his jeans before the Boss put his hands over.

‘Christ he must have been looking at some porn site’ Rob thought

‘So who the hell are you barging in?’

‘I’m your bookkeeper’

‘Oh right. I didn’t expect a pretty college type guy.’

‘I hope I don’t disappoint’, Rob said timidly

‘Na, need to see how you work but I reckon you’ll fit in nicely. Here’s the computer which you can turn on and find the bookkeeping programme. You’ll see a pile of invoices you need to sort out and record. Ok? I’ll let you get on as I have some business to deal with.’

‘Just before you go can you tell me where the toilets are.’

‘Most guys here just pee outside but if you need a shit then the block is 2 portacabins down.’

As the Boss went to open the door and free his hands from his crotch Rob could see that his cock was still straining against the jeans.

He heard the Boss shout out.

‘Hey Jeff get over here and follow me.’

Rob looked out the side open window to see what was going on and saw the Boss standing at the side of the van thinking he was out of sight from all the lads, and was rubbing his crotch, his hand slowly grasping the full length of his dick inside the jeans. Jeff came round the side and stood in front of the Boss.

‘I was all ready for a fucking wank and that new boy came in just as was looking at some great guys in HiViz going at it on the screen. Thank Christ I didn’t have my cock out but I tell you, Jeff, I’m still feeling fucking horny so you know what to do.’

Jeff put his hand out and slowly let one hand move up and down the Boss’s crotch.

‘Shit Boss, you have the best cock around, so fucking meaty and what a bloody great bulge it makes.’

‘Fuck the bulge boy, unzip me and get your hand inside.’

Jeff unzipped and let his hand inside moving it all the way down the long shaft, making sure his hand was firmly around it. With his other hand he unbuttoned the top of the jeans so he could pull the cock out. As he did he purposely took the hand away so the full meaty dick could bounce up showing it fully erect making it almost vertical such was its hardness.

Rob looked closely and could see a good 8” thick cock with shiny head fully exposed.

Jeff was in full Hi Viz, trousers with dirty T shirt and Hiviz vest. He started rubbing his own crotch.

‘Making me feel fucking horny Boss.’

‘You know what to do now.’

Jeff got down on his knees his eyes level with the cock he was about to suck.

‘No messing Jeff, I’m fucking horny and need to unload so get this down yer throat and suck big time.’

Jeff put his arms around the Boss’s thighs as he moved in to take the head. He let his tongue lick across the tip and around the head covering it with his spit, the Boss’s cock jerking as he did. Opening his mouth wide he started to slowly take the large diameter and let the cock slip further into his mouth. The Boss  needed to cum so he took hold of Jeff’s head with his hairy hands and forced his head the full length down the shaft causing Jeff to gag for a few seconds as his saliva spilt out of his mouth and down his Hi Viz vest.

‘That’s more like it’

Rob peering out from the side window could not believe his eyes. Here was the Boss ordering one of the workies to give him a blow job and the guy was doing exactly as he was told and even more seemed to be enjoying it. But it wasn’t just the two of them enjoying. Rob’s own cock was fully erect and he could now feel some precum oozing out of his chinos. Watching without the others knowing was turning him on even more. And what a cock the Boss had.

The Boss started to work Jeff’s head up and down the full length and now Jeff was able to take in the Boss’s full manhood. Jeff’s mouth was tight against the Boss’s pubes. The Boss was fully in control with Jeff on his knees and the Boss ramming his cock in a out of Jeff’s face.

‘Christ you suck well. Glad you saw sense and joined the crew. I like my guys as real men not office guys. Go on take the full length, you know you love my dick, Take it the whole way down your throat. I’m so horny from the porn site and now you sucking me off that I’m ready to come. So let that throat of yours take it all. I don’t want any wasted. Go on boy suck I’m ready

And with one final push into Jeff’s face, the Boss flung his head back as his spunk shot out into Jeff’s throat. Rob could hear the Boss groaning with pleasure

‘Take it all and then wipe your mouth clean. Don’t want you walking around with my spunk on your chin. Well done that feels better” he said giving his cock a shake and using his hand to wipe off any remaining spunk ‘ Now off you go and get some work done and make sure that prick of your is not bulging out as it is now. You’ll get your turn soon enough.’

Rob quickly got back to his seat in case the Boss came back in and he needed to hide his own erection so no one could see.

His stiff pole refused to go down and Rob thought the only thing is to get to the loos and have a wank. So putting his hands in his pocket to hide the bulge he left the office and found the loo portacabin. There was thankfully no one inside so he went into one of the cubicles but there was no lock on the door

‘Christ I have to cum after seeing the Boss’s cock being sucked off, not sure what to do.’

As he considered, the main door opened and 2 of the workies came in and went to the urinals. Rob could hear them unzipping their HiViz trousers and getting their cocks out to pee.

Rob was worried he would have more precum oozing out so quietly undid his zip and pulled out his cock. He could hear the pee gushing out from the two guys.

‘Not sure what they put in the tea mate but it sure makes you pee.’

As they finished and started to shake themselves one said to the other

‘I’d forgotten what a great cock you have’

‘Yours ain’t bad either mate in fact we are probably the same size. Lets see.’

They turned round towards each other and placed their cocks side by side.

‘Yeah pretty much the same when like this but more important if they are the same when we have a boner.’ And with that the guy put his hand around both cocks and started to stroke up and down.

‘Looks like they are growing at the same rate. Let me do it a bit more.’ He then took his full hand around the shafts and started yanking more forcefully.

‘Christ Bob, I luv my cock rubbing against yours and seeing them stiff together.’ ‘Still looks as if they are the same.’

‘Unbutton your trousers Jake’

Jake did as told and then Bob with his other hand pulled out the rear of the trousers and let his hand slip down Bob’s hairy crack, all the time masturbating both cocks with the other hand.

‘You know what I like Bob.’

‘Should do after all this time.’

Bob let one of his fingers ease itself in to Jake’s arse and as Jake moved his arse out to take it so Jake slid another and then another until 4 fingers were full up the hole.

‘Go on Bob move them around so I feel ready.’

‘So Jake it seems our stiff dicks are pretty much the same so when I fuck you now you can imagine as if you are fucking yourself.’

Rob was looking at all of this though a crack in the slightly open door, his own cock out and his hand now starting to work the shaft. This was too much.

‘If the Boss had thought he was horny Christ I’m so ready to burst.’

 He was terrified to breathe in case they could hear but by now the guys were so into each other they would not notice.

‘That arse of yours Jake is now nice and moist, I can feel my fingers really wet. Feels as if you are ready.’

‘What do you fucking think with those fingers moving around inside me. You ain’t a doctor but a great fuck ‘

Bob pulled down the rear of Jake’s Hi Viz and Rob was able to see a nice hairy arse with a good pair of meaty cheeks.

‘I’m fucking ready for that cock of yours or mine if you think that way.’

‘Tell you what Jake why don’t you let a big gob of spit onto my dick and then its part of you being fucked.’

Jake gathered all his spit and let it fall onto Bob’s gleaming head.

‘Now work that in a bit as if it’s yer own.’

Jake rubbed his spit up and down Bob’s shaft and then put both arms up resting against the wall as Bob moved behind taking his cock and setting in against the crack.

‘Luv that hairy arse of yours as I see my cock slipping all the way up. Now push yer arse out to take it all man.’

Bob was now standing right behind and put his hands on Jake’s hips positioning himself and his cock for full entry.

He gently pushed the head in feeling it get past the opening and as he did Jake moved his arse further back groaning with pleasure. Bob’s cock slid further in, taking his time enjoying the sensation until Jake’s arse was firmly set against Bob’s Hi Viz zip opening.

‘So you like being self fucked.’

‘ Sure do but I tell you what when your get the Boss’s cock up you, you sure know. He ain’t the Boss for nothing with that thick dick of his.’

‘Well for now you’ll have to make do with my prick and don’t worry I’ve as much spunk as the Boss.’

‘So get on and fuck me and let me feel your nylon HiViz smack against me and then I know you’re fully up me.’

‘Ok mate you asked to be fucked so I’ll fuck you.’

With that Bob started rough fucking, ramming his dick up and down the full length and every time Jake seemed to stick his arse out even further to take every push. The more he rammed in the more excited Bob got.

‘Fucking take it, you want cock and I’m giving it to you and a full wad of spunk to boot.’

By now Rob’s hand was wanking furiously. On the one hand he wanted to be fucking Jake but seeing the way Bob was fucking, his own arse became moist at the thought of it up him.

‘I’m cumming man so take  it all, shit there’s loads going up you. Go on wank yourself and cum too.’

‘What the hell do you think I’m doing. I want us to come together. Two same cocks spurting their load.’

‘Well do it now, Jesus I’m cumming man.’ and with one final push he let out a loud groan as he pumped Jake, whose head shot back as he shot his load into the urinal.

Seeing the two guys was too much for Rob and with one hand over his mouth to stifle any noise his cock erupted a ton of spunk against the cubicle door.

‘Fasten up yer HiViz Jake, I want you to go around today with all my spunk up yer arse.’

‘Don’t worry I love feeling you still inside me but I’d better give the pisspot here a quick clean. You leave first and then no one will know what we have been up to.’

‘You’ve got to be joking man , we are all at it here, makes no difference. We fuck more than we work.’

The guys eventually left after some cleaning and then Rob wiped his cock clean and then took all the spunk that had been running down the door. Tucking himself back, in making sure his chinos were not stained he quietly left and went back to the office.

‘What sort of place have I come to’ he said to himself.

As he was wading through the invoices to put on the computer the Boss came in with a mug of tea and bunch of Hi Viz clothing and dropped the items down in front of Rob.

‘The lads are saying it is better for you to wear the same gear when you are on site. It’s up to you whether you change here or come from home in it but either way while you are here you wear these clothes. I’ve picked out what I think is your size and anyway you have to have rigger boots and a Hi viz vest and helmet to meet regulations. So I’ll let you change now. You might as well get used to it.

You can have the cuppa after. OK? I’ll let you get on.’

Rob thought this seemed a bit far fetched but having seen some of lads and then witnessed what had gone on at the toilet block, he decided it might be a good idea and he might feel like one of the workies. He undressed, carefully folded his clothes and put on the HiViz polo shirt, then the trousers and then the vest all I bright orange with the company logo on the back. He had noticed that the two guys getting off had not been wearing underwear so he decided to do the same. Even the rigger boots were the right size. He saw a mirror in a corner and went to stand in front. Apart from looking so clean he almost looked a workie and immediately he felt his cock starting to strain inside and already it was pressing against his trousers forming a decent looking pole.

‘Christ I had better get back to work and take my mind off things’ he said

Back at work he started drinking the mug of tea the Boss had left and at first he thought it had a slightly odd taste but put it down to the fact that it was probably just cheap tea. But his cock still stayed hard.

Rob then remembered that he was certain the Boss had been looking at a porn site when he arrived so he checked out the internet at History and sure enough he could see several Hi Viz sites which he clicked on. Photos appeared on the screen of guys some just only in high viz, and then soon others were showing guys cocksucking, fucking, bondage, spitting into each others faces all in Hi Viz.

‘No wonder the Boss had such a boner,’ Rob thought as he started stroking his own stiff dick. ‘Christ this is making me feel so unbelievably horny. I didn’t think I could feel like this. Shit seeing all these guys having sex makes me want some bloody action.’

Leaning back in his chair he spread his legs out so he could firmly grasp his cock through the HiViz.

‘Christ I’ve cum already today but I feel I need to shoot another load,’ he said out loud

‘Then just as well we have come to help you out, eh boy?’

There was no time to shut off the computer as he spun round hearing the Boss’s voice. Standing inside the door was the Boss, Jeff, Bob and Jake.

‘Well Boss the boy has a nice packet there so we need to help him out,’ Jake said rubbing his crotch.

‘So you have been looking at my sites, you dirty little fucker. Sure got you hard. Just as well cause I’m feeling fucking horny too watching you and those pics and I’m also ready to shed a lot of spunk Not just me but all the boys here are needing some action, ain’t that right?’

‘Sure thing Boss we all need to cum and the boy is ready.’

‘Right as I’m the Boss I get first’ he said unbuttoning his 501s ‘ shit this is difficult pulling out my dick when its so fucking hard.’

‘Get over here boy and see what its like to suck a real man’s cock’

Whilst Rob felt total shock something in him was telling him he was about to have the best initiation possible and get to really suck the Boss’ dick rather than seeing from a window. Whatever was in that tea worked and wanted not just a piece of the action but all, as he stood seeing the other guys rubbing their HiViz and all of them showing a large bulge itching to unzip and get the cocks out.

‘On yer knees’ The Boss instructed.

Rob sank down in front and looked up at the Boss’s hunk of meat.

Christ it was so much bigger sitting in front, it was so thick and he could see the veins straining underneath with a gleaming head now exposed

‘Now that’s a cock for you. Get going and let the others see what you can do.’

Rob took the prick in his hand hardly able to get it around the diameter and then let a gob of spit drop onto the head.

‘Good boy you know what to do’

Holding the cock firmly he moved his mouth to take in the head.

‘I’m gonna choke on this he thought as his throat muscles tensed. But Rob so wanted that cock now he knew he had to relax as he wanted to feel the Boss’s pubes against his face.

‘You can start slowly lad as you’ve probably not sucked too many my size.’

Little by little he started moving his mouth further and further down the shaft breathing carefully so not to choke. The further in the dick went the more he wanted to feel it all the way down his throat.

‘That’s it boy’ The Boss said as he grabbed Rob’s head and forced him to take the full length when Rob could feel the wiry pubes pressing against his face.

‘Now I’m gonna work you a bit OK?’

The Boss started pushing and pulling Rob’s head as the slurping sound became louder and louder and the Boss’s groans got greater.

‘Shit well done boy you’re the best cocksucker around. Sorry Jeff but he is. I ain’t cuming yet.’ and with that he pushed Rob back and his dick sprung up covered in spit with the head starting to ooze precum.

Rob looked up and saw that the other three were around him and had their dicks out beginning to wank

‘Christ’ he thought ‘I don’t think I can suck off 3 others’

The Boss lifted him up like a bit of clothing and turned him around setting him on top of the desk pushing him so he was stretched out on his back

‘So lets get serious now, that was starters’

The Boss grabbed Rob’s waistband and zip and pulled his HiViz trousers down so they were around his ankles, until the Boss yanked them completely off him.

‘Now spread yer legs’ the Boss said as he forced Robs leg wide apart and brought him forward so his arse was right on the edge of the table.

‘Now your spit has got me all wet it’ll be easier for you to take me.’

The Boss moved forward and put two fingers up Rob’s arse moving them around. ‘Nice glory hole you’ve got there. You’ll be able to take me’

Taking his fingers out he inched his cock to Rob’s opening

‘Boss I’m not sure I can do this.’

‘If you want your job and want to be one of the guys then you’ll do what I want, got it? Now fucking relax and it will be easier.’

Before Rob could reply he felt the Boss’s cock splitting open his arse and for a moment he winced in pain.

‘Once it’s all in you will want every inch trust me. Now guys I want you to have some fun. Jeff because you sucked me off today I’ll let you get your dick down the boys throat. You other two can watch and work yerselves up to cum all over our new mate here. ‘

As the Boss pushed his cock deeper and deeper inside Rob’s arse so Jeff took his cock in one hand and Rob’s head in the other bringing it up to meet his rigid dick.

‘Go on Rob take my cock down your throat once you feel the Boss’s dick all the way up you will be sucking my dick for all you can.’

Seeing Jeff’s cock slid down Rob’s throat made the Boss push further and further inside until his pubes were tight against Rob’s arse

‘Shit Jeff seeing that cock of your going down the boys throat makes me even hornier. I’m gonna fuck him rigid but tell you what boys you take your lead from me . When I come I want all of you to release your cum and you two make sure his HI Viz shirt is soaked with your spunk.’

Jeff took his lead from the boss and as he slid his full shaft in so Jeff pushed his cock all the way down the throat.

‘Tell you what Boss the fact he’s had your cock down his throat makes it much easier for me.’

‘Fucking hell,’ Bob shouted, ‘seeing the lad with a cock each end has me fucking going.’

Rob felt he had a cock stretching from his arse to his lips. Once the full meat of the Boss’s dick was inside him he wanted rammed but he could say nothing as he took the full length of Jeff’s prick.

‘We have one of the lad here boys. Once he has had this he will not be going anywhere he’ll wait for his morning cuppa and then we can have a good daily fuck together. Now let me get right up and ram you boy.’

With his hand firmly wrapped around Robs knees  he pushed in and slowly withdrew to savour the full entry. But he was needing to shoot so the slow movement quickly increased until he was slamming his cock in and out all the up to his pubes. The more he pushed in and out the more his grunts increased. And Jeff watching how turned on the Boss was rammed his dick in and out of Rob’s mouth. He wanted to cum at the same time and seeing how Rob was taking the Boss’s prick made him even more excited.

‘I hope you two are ready,’ Jake said ‘as watching you have all the fun has me ready. Forget the gentle wank man I’m rubbing myself for all its worth.’

‘Me too.’ Bob said.

The Boss replied ‘Bob grab the boy’s cock. Its so fucking hard with me inside him we had better let him cum with us.’

Bob kept one hand rubbing his dick and with his other he wrapped his hand around Rob’s rigid prick and started to wank him furiously

‘OK guys lets get ready to cum. I want a fucking fountain. Shit I’m ready that’s such a fucking great arse of your boy. This is the first but not last time you’ll have me fuck you. Shit it’s coming. Go on lads shoooot.’

And with that as Rob felt the pressure of the Boss’s spunk shoot up him so he felt Jeff’s spunk race down his throat as if both spunks would meet inside him. The intense pleasure was too much and Rob ejaculated with three great wads of cum all the way up his shirt hitting his chin. Bob and Jeff at the same time let fly with their cum their first shot hitting across Rob at each other.

You could hear a great sigh as all five shed their loads

The Boss withdrew his cock and tucked it into his Levis, a stain showing through from the excess he had not squeezed out.

‘Fuck’ he said looking down, ‘better wear my Hi Viz jacket to cover this stain when going home. Right young man you had better get yourself to the toilet cabin and clean yourself up. Probably best to put back your other clothes on but take the Hi Viz back home and wash tonight as I expect you wearing it tomorrow.

So hope you have had a good day. You’ve passed your initiation. In fact expect another session tomorrow after you’ve had your mug of tea.’

‘This is best job ever Boss and as for the HiViz I’ll want to sleep in it soon.’

‘Good boy that’s what I like to hear. If you continue like this I’ll have you on the outdoor workforce. You could do with a few muscles. It has helped Jeff who used to do your job. Guys here work and fuck but many a day fuck and then work.’

‘I’ll do what you want Boss.’

‘You will.’

[freedombooksflowers]

Bond

For @wolfstarmicrofic (look I read it ad bound but you know it works it’s fine. They’re about to bond over bondage after this meet cute😂)

Sirius landed in the rope suspension workshop on his own because his old Dom turned out to be a dick. The person running the workshop, Remus, said to come in anyhow because there would be someone for him to work with anyway. Butterfly wings brushed against his stomach as he stood off to the side. All the people there seemed to be in pairs, which was disappointing. A few of them had greeted Sirius, made small talk, but he still got the distinct feeling he’d end up alone.

“Hello everyone,” the instructor gave a single clap for attention.

This was the first time he saw Remus even though Sirius heard their name in his circle. They were gorgeous with strong arms and freckles on his shoulders that Sirius could plainly see thanks to their tank top. Their honey colored hair sat in a curly mess on their head, making Sirius want to run his fingers through it.

“Everyone grab a station if you haven’t.”

Sirius set his bag down next to a mat, watching Remus. The nervousness still bubbled under the surface because he hadn’t just imagined everyone came in pairs.

“Take a moment to get settled in, have some water, and take a look at your tools.” Remus’ hazel eyes seemed to land on Sirius and something clicked behind them.

A minute later Remus stood in front of him with a soft smile. “Sirius, right? I’m Remus, you had messaged me about coming alone.”

“Yeah, my ex decided to give me the tickets.” He gave a strained laugh. “I don’t think anyone needs a partner.”

Remus made a face. “Shit, yeah, normally there’s a few solo riggers, but—”

“Just my luck.”

“If you don’t mind, I could use a partner. My friend who normally joins me is ill, so.” Remus gestured to the front hard point. “I know some people don’t like being front and center so I’d understand.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could give it much thought. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

“Great. How do you feel about sparkly rope?”

“I’m down for any rope.” Sirius picked up his tote bag.

“Then I think we’re a match made in heaven.”

[damn-stark]

Stories behind scars

Cal Kestis x reader

Requested by anon “perfect! can i request a cal kestis x reader? maybe they go exploring on their own and they find an old jedi temple and they explore it and afterwards fluffy stuff with the reader asking about how scars? xx”

Warning- fluff, violence, talks of blood, slight angst.

——

There was always something so peaceful about traveling the galaxy to find Jedi temples. Even if you weren’t a Jedi like Cal, and didn’t have much of an importance to seek them, there was always something great about finding them and exploring them.

Plus usually going to Jedi temples, you avoided not having to fight, or worry about who was out to get either Cal, or you. There was always something so peaceful about them. It made you wish you could have the force to feel what your boyfriend did, but alas you didn’t. You were only left to wonder and imagine what it felt like.

“So where are we?”

Cal lowers the ship into the desert moon, letting you both be greeted by a large walled city that is surrounded by nothing but dry, sandy terrain. While at the edge of the city stood a large triangular tower. At first you thought Cal was going to land in the city but he kept going and traveling about the desert, answering your question a moment later after passing the city.

“The cold moon called Jedha.”

You hum as a response, but then you’re left to wonder. “Didn’t we just pass the Jedi temple?”

Cal shakes his head and smiles slightly. “No, that was the temple of kyber, good eye though, you’re getting better at pointing them out. Or trying to point them out.”

You scoff and shrug. “Well it isn’t hard when they all look the same, ancient, tall and almost broken down.”

Cal chuckles and slightly turns his head to meet your gaze, instantly proving your comment wrong. “Except for this one, look.” He turns his head to look out at the transparisteel, pointing out to you a carving on the desert ground as he flies above it slowly.

You narrow your gaze on what he had pointed to and tried to find what temple he had “pointed to” exactly, but all you saw was a huge carving of cloaked Jedi with a carving of lightsaber in its clutch, and never-ending sand. “I don’t see a temple.”

Cal smirks, “you’ll see.”

He proceeds to land the ship by the carving, still not clarifying your confusion one bit and only making you worry that he was leading you to nothing.

But you trusted Cal, so you followed him to where he lead you through the desert without a question. Feeling surprised as you felt rather cold in a desert, in the middle of the day. Something Cal noticed.

“I told you to wear your jacket.”

“Well,” you remark, “it’s a desert, I didn’t think I’d need it.”

Cal just shakes his head, finally stopping where the tip of the carved out lightsaber stopped, studying the ground beneath his feet carefully. Only looking up to you moments later to wave you to him. “Come on I found a way in.”

You let your eyes study him for a moment, before looking down at the ground with nothing that could lead to a Jedi temple of any kind. Regardless, doing as he asked and walking to stand by his side.

Only being surprised when he uses the force to blow the sand around you away to reveal a carved out circle that he began to lower down slowly. Leading to an underground...temple.

“Told you,” Cal remarks with a knowing smile. “And you were worried that I was leading you to our deaths.”

You chuckle and shake your head to disapprove of his comment. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. I know you.”

You scoff and jump off the platform once it’s safe, looking around you and noticing that it was a pretty small temple, formed out like the Jedi carved above ground. In terms of looks, it looked the same as many others you've been to, old, dusty, made out of stone, abandoned and with one of the circles that cal meditated on.

“I’m going to mediate, and find out what happened, okay? Watch my six?” Cal questioned.

“Of course,” you nod, instinctively pulling out your hand to receive his lightsaber for just in case.

“Be careful.” He reminds you.

“Always am.” You assure him with a wink, turning to leave him be and taking time to explore the temple and see if their was any trouble with BD-1 on your shoulder—“I wonder what stories this temple contains.” You muse as your eyes explore every inch of the temple.

BD-1 chirps and you can’t help but agree. “You’re right, probably old stories.” You smile at him and continue, not noticing the tunnels that were dug and hidden by the shadows. Instead gasping as at the center of the temple, you see something shining by the sun peaking through the small holes above.

You’re hesitant to move towards the shining object, but you’re also entranced and find yourself instinctively moving towards it, feeling your eyes widen in admiration as you notice that it’s a kyber crystal placed above a stone pedestal. You move your hand to grab it and as you do, something suddenly comes out of the hidden tunnel.

A long sepertent with its mouth wide open and moving swiftly towards you. You jump out of the way and notice that it chooses to ignore you, quickly slithering away towards the only other person here; Cal.

Without a second thought and a plan, you run after it, igniting the lightsaber in your hand and puncturing it through its tail, but not expecting its tail moving back and throwing you to the wall.

At the impact you’re left dazed for a few seconds, gasping for air and hearing BD-1’s nervous chirps. It takes you a moment to fully return to your surroundings and your worried state. Not thinking of your pain and jumping to your feet to continue with your improvised plan to help Cal. Finding once you return back to the room you had been at before, that the serpent threw itself towards Cal, biting down on his shoulder and dragging him away, pulling from his meditative state and bringing him back to the room.

You tighten your hold around the hilt and run towards the serpent, once again puncturing it’s skin and cutting it along its side as you run forward to reach Cal, stopping and seeing the serpent drop it’s hold on Cal and fall limp the ground.

“Cal!”

“I’m okay, I’m fine,” Cal assures you once you reach him and pull him to a sitting position. “It just got a good bite out of me, but I’m okay.”

At his words you see blood soaking through his clothes, causing you to pull the pack you owned off your back to open it and get out some patching supplies.

“Could you take off your jacket and shirt please,” you plead Cal.

Cal hesitates but does so, revealing the fresh wound and scars littered across his body.

To distract him from the stinging pain that you were going to cause by patching him up, you point to the scar on his side. “What happened there?”

Cals gaze flickers down to what your fingers trace and he shivers at your touch. “Oh, that I got from when I used to work as a rigger.”

“Hmm,” your eyes flicker to what you’re doing before blinking to briefly glance at the short, round, punctured looking one on his ribs. “What about that one?”

“Oh, that’s one from this sith,” he tells, “you know from the adventure I had with the crew.”

You chuckle and grin. “Oh the one neither of them can ever shut about?”

“Exactly,” Cal agrees, continuing to explain his explanation. “I got the scar when Darth Vader stabbed me.”

Your eyes fly to meet his and you quirk your brow, narrowing your gaze to study his eyes as if trying to read if he was lying. “Really? That’s hard to believe.”

He scoffs, “believe it or not, it’s true.”

“You kill him?” You snicker.

Cal shakes his head. “Almost.”

You laugh and add a patch over his shoulder, moving your hands to clean them on a wipe. “You need to be more careful.”

Cal smiles. “I always am.” He continues to take your hand, placing it on his face, so you could trace the scar on his face with your thumb. “And you know where I got that one.”

“Yep, during the Jedi purge.” You smile softly and press a small kiss on his lips, stroking his cheek before you pressed a kiss on the bridge of his nose where his scar was traced. Only parting away to show him your smile and your relief. “I’m glad you made it out okay from all that.”

Cal mirrors your smile and is quick to respond back in the same soft voice you spoke. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what I’d do without you. It seems like you’re always saving me from something.”

You look away and shrug, trying to avoid feeling the heat rise on your face. “I try my best.” Finally remembering what you had obtained from the temple, you take it out of your pocket and show it to Cal. “Look what I found, a kyber crystal.”

Cal takes it from your hand and examines it for a brief moment before handing it back to you. “Keep it. It’ll be useful when you build your own lightsaber.”

You blink, surprised by his comment. “But I’m not a Jedi.”

Cal stands to his feet and puts his jacket on and folds his bloody shirt. Helping you to your feet and reassuring your doubt. “No necessarily. You don’t have to be a Jedi to have a lightsaber. Plus I’ve seen how you handle mine, you’re great.”

You shake your head, still shocked by what he said. “But—”

“I’ll help you, don’t worry.” Cal cuts you off, beginning to lead you out of the temple.

You grin. “Alright, just don’t complain if I become a better fighter than you.”

[scarofthewind]

Michael, Jason, bubba, and Thomas reacting to their s/o self harming

A/N: Hello all! I hope you enjoy this and thank you for all the support coming through. Also, the requests y’all have are brilliant! I will be working on them as I can. I am taking summer college courses and I am also leaving this week for a vacation (don’t worry I will update as I can). TRIGGER WARNING, mentions of self harm.

Leatherface (Bubba Sawyer): He had left the house for an hour at most to scare off some teenagers who were harassing the territory. When he walked back in the house, the shower was still on which concerned him. You usually were quick when showering. 

Making his way to the bathroom he heard soft cries coming from the other side of the door. Gripping the doorknob, he tried to enter but found it locked. “(Y/N).” He panicked, twisting the knob furiously until you called back to him.

“I’m fine, just give me a second okay?” Bubba made a whining sound but sat by the door and waited. His pulse quickened at the negative thoughts that ran through his head. Why were you crying? Did he do something wrong? Did you want to leave him? He fidgeted in his spot and after a couple more minutes he heard the door be unlocked. 

You barely had time to back up before he swung it open and grabbed you in a hug. “Sorry.” He repeated over and over until you forcibly pushed him back a bit. 

“Sorry for what? Bubba, you didn’t do anything wrong.” You pushed some hair from his eyes and he caught sight of the swollen marks on your arms. Fresh and beaded with blood. 

“Did I-” He paused and you caught an understanding of what he was talkin about. You tried to tuck your arms behind your back but he grabbed them and pulled them closer for inspection. You felt guilty seeing the look in his eyes; the confusion and pain. He thought that you hurt yourself because of him and tat hurt you more than the cuts themselves. 

“My fault.” Bubba whispered and you shook your head, cupping his face in your hands. 

“No it is not your fault. I just...I needed to do it. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry.” You watched him closely as his eyes clouded with tears. 

“Don’t. No more of that.” He waited until you nodded in agreement before he moved to the cupboard over the bathroom sink and grabbed some Band-Aids, trying his best to patch you up. 

Jason Voorhees: Something was wrong. Call it a sixth sense of his, but Jason knew the moment you pushed him away that something was very wrong. 

He sat at the foot of the bed, lips parted in concern as you sat at the other end, legs pulled up to your chin. You never pushed him away when he was trying to be affectionate. You both had been in a deep make out session when his hands grazed over your thighs and that’s when it all went to hell. 

The cuts under your pants throbbed with how fresh they were and the pressure Jason had touched them with made them sting horribly. 

“I’m sorry.” You said, mentally killing yourself for pushing him away like that, but how could you tell him? 

Jason groaned out a sentence and you just stayed silent. Why did you push me away? What’s wrong? His eyes asked you from his spot on the bed. 

“I...” You shook as you tried to find the words to tell him exactly what you did. Taking in a deep breath, you spat it out. “I hurt myself.” Jason stared at you in confusion for a moment before grabbing your ankles and pulling you to him. His eyes were dark, filled with something you hadn’t seen on him in years. 

He was mad. 

You almost laughed with joy at this emotion that was resurfacing, but his hands grabbing your pants and yanking them down caused you to shut you mouth. He straightened a bit, becoming tense when your pants were far enough to where he could see the cuts that formed on your skin. He lightly grazed a finger over the puffy skin, the scabs already starting to form. He could feel your thigh tense in pain as he pressed harder, his eyes snapping to yours. 

He yelled at you then, anger and confusion taking over his mind as he practically threw you to the side and stomped into the bathroom, taking your razor and breaking it with his hands. The blade was put into his pocket and he turned around when he realized you were trying to stop him from doing that. To him, you were miserable and he didn’t make you happy. Why else would you have hurt yourself? Jason’s chest heaved with every breath he took, his nostrils flaring as he moved to the door of the cabin and swung it open. He stood off to the side and pointed outside. 

You knew everything he was thinking which is why you walked over to him and closed the door. A soft sob escaped your lips as you turned away, making  your way back to the bedroom. Jason followed, not certain as to why you were crying. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, it had nothing to do with you I promise.” Jason’s anger disappeared as he heard the pain in your voice and he grabbed you in a hug. He pressed your head against his chest and let you cry, softly rubbing your back as you did so. 

Michael Myers: You’d been in the bathroom for about thirty minutes having a panic attack. The deed had been done, the blood on your arms showed exactly what you did. However, as soon as you had done it, you panicked wondering what Michael would think. Would he think you were ugly now with soon to be scars littering your arms? Would he think that it was his fault and part from you? Would be throw you away?”

Your chest heaved as you held your head between your legs, focusing on your breathing which only stopped when you heard a soft knock on the bathroom door. “What are you doing in there?” Michael asked from the other side, ready to bust the door down if he had to. You couldn't respond, only sit there in fear of what he’d say. Your mind was filled with terrifying thoughts that only made you sink further into the corner. 

“(Y/N)?” Michael’s voice became worried as you didn’t answer and you heard him try for the doorknob to which you had locked. “Open the door.” You felt your vision blur as tears fell down your face, your chest tightening as every negative thought surfaced and attacked at once. 

He doesn’t love you.

You are nothing.

Ugly.

Disgusting.

Stupid. 

“No.” You whispered to yourself as those thoughts spoke to you. 

“(Y/N)?” Michael asked again, pausing when he heard you speak to yourself. 

“He loves me. Michael does love me, even if he doesn’t say it. I know he does.” You replied to the vile voices in your head who only laughed at your futile attempt to be positive. 

Michael gripped the doorknob tightly and twisted it back, breaking it off the door and pushing his way in the bathroom. He didn’t know what to focus on first. The blood, your tears, or what you had been talking to. “What did you do?” Michael felt his chest tighten with fear as he knelt beside you and took your arms in his hands. He wiped the blood away from the wounds and let out a shaky breath of relief realizing they weren’t deep enough to kill you. 

He turned his head to look down at you, eight different emotions running through his head at once. “Why did you do this?” 

“You love me right?” You asked, watching his eyes search your face for answers. The voices were gone for now, but you needed to know. They would stay away if he agreed. “Right?” You sobbed, your eyes red from crying. 

Michael stared at you for a moment before nodding. “I love you.” 

You smiled to yourself, wiping your tears away and looking at the wounds on your arms. “They told me to do it. They said you didn’t love me and that you thought-”

“Who said that?” Michael asked, a sense of dread washing over him as he grabbed a wet cloth to wipe away the blood. 

“The negative thoughts. They come and go sometimes.” You said, wincing as the cuts stung from the water. 

“Why haven’t you said anything to me about this before?” Michael snapped, a sigh leaving his lips. 

“I thought you wouldn’t care what happened to me.” Michael shook his head and pulled you into his lap, bandaging your arms and kissing your head. 

“I may not say it but I will always care about you, (Y/N).” He said into your ear as he held you on the bathroom floor. “Please don’t hurt yourself. I don’t like it.” You nodded and let him slowly rub your back as you fell asleep in his arms. 

Leatherface (Thomas Hewitt): “Oh shit.” You hissed as your skin was cut too deep on your arm. The blade had slipped from the blood and ended up cutting deeper than expected. You paled, throwing the razor blade in the sink and running out of the bathroom, your hand and arm now covered in blood as you tried to stop the bleeding. 

“Thomas!” You shouted, tears welling up in your eyes as you heard commotion from in the basement. He was using his chainsaw so he couldn’t hear you over it and the screams of the girl he had on a hook. 

You stumbled down the basement steps and stood at the bottom of them, staring at his back as he cut the girls stomach out, blood going everywhere. You could feel your arm go numb as you continued to hold it, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding from being so heavy. 

“Thomas.” You said again, when he turned the chainsaw off, you nearly scaring him half to death. He turned around and panicked. 

“What happened?! Is someone here?” He asked, grabbing you and pulling you over to his table, letting you sit before looking at the wound. 

“No. I cut myself.” You admitted bluntly, nearly passing out when he used a small bucket of water to get the blood off your skin. 

“What?” He snapped, looking you in the eyes. “Why would you do that?” 

“I wanted to feel something.” You watched as he rummaged through his desk drawer's and found a sewing kit. 

He slammed the kit down next to you and you said his name, only to be pinched on the leg harshly. “Feel that. Not a fucking knife to your arm.” He sighed, looking at the wound again before dabbing at the edges with alcohol, causing you not muffle a scream by burying your head in his chest. 

“Do I make you want to hurt yourself?” Thomas asked, causing you to jerk your head up and look at him. 

“No absolutely not!”

“Then why do this, (Y/N)?” He yelled, looking at you. You shook your head and cried. 

“I wanted to feel alive.”

“I make you feel dead? Great, that’s great.” Thomas scoffed, staring to fix your arm, the needle making you cry out in pain. 

“I’m sorry it was a stupid idea. It has nothing to do with you.” You waited until he looked at you before you told him you loved him. 

He clenched is jaw and continued to work on your arm in silence until it was finished. “You’re lucky. A few more minutes without help you would’ve died.” He put some ointment around the wound and then cleaned up the area.

“But I guess since I can’t make you feel alive, it would’ve been better right?” His words punched a hole in your heart and you scooted off the table and walked over to him. 

“That’s not true.”

“You said it earlier. You wanted to feel alive.”

“I didn’t mean that. I don’t know why I did it okay! I’m sorry, Thomas. Please look at me.” You nudged his arm and he turned to face you, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“Do you have any idea what I would’ve done if I lost you?” His voice broke for a second as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t ever do this again, understand me?” You nodded and let him hug you tightly. 

[a-trying-writer]

discussion

“My friend?” Racter called out, tearing Capricious’ attention away from her thoughts.

“Oh, uh... Sorry...” she replied meekly with a shake of her head. “What was it you were saying?”

The Russian pursed his lips as he flicked the butt of the cigarette stick to let the cone of ash fall over Koschei. “I was discussing about our future.”

“The usual benefits of tranhumanism, and how we could be anything we want, if we strip away the limitations of our essence.” She paused as leaned against the railing to look down into the dark abyss. “Well, ‘we’ as in the ones who would benefit this the most, which would be people who are - for the lack of a better term - ‘different’.”

Racter quietly sucked on the cigarette while he eyed Capricious with an arched brow. “Is there something you wish to say, my friend? For example, that you dislike the idea, perhaps?”

Capricious pinched the bridge of her nose with her eyes shut tight and let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry... I’m not exactly in the right state to help you discuss this in any constructive way. I came here to talk to you about it, but something kept nagging at me in the back of my mind during the conversation.”

“Such as...?” he waved his hand towards her, signalling her to continue.

The decker took in another deep breath as she opened her eyes and looked at the machinery surrounding them. “I feel... worthless. Compared to you and the others, I feel inferior, even though I’m supposed to be the great, reliable leader... and yet. I feel less than garbage for some reason. I can’t match up to Is0bel, and I’m not as strong as my brother, so... what’s the point? I mess up so many times, and nearly got us killed, that I wonder how the hell am I still alive at this point. You have Koschei, a hell of a drone on the field, and there is Gaichu and Gobbet, both smart and talented in their own way.”

Capricious paused to catch her breath, then blew out another sigh. “Sorry. I know you don’t understand how I feel, so I didn’t mean to let it all out like that. Besides, this isn’t the first time I felt this way, so I know this feeling will go away eventually, but it also means it comes back.” She forced out a laugh and shrugged. “Anyway, now that my head is clear, do you mind if we go back to what you’re talking about?”

The cigarette shifted from one corner of Racter’s lips to the other as he gave her a firm nod. “I’d like to, but first, may I tell you something, my friend?”

“Go ahead.”

“You should knock that out - thinking that you’re worthless. It will get you nowhere in life, and honestly, it’s a bore to me.”

Capricious did a double take in disbelief. “I’m boring you?” she snort. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Racter took another drag as he approached her, and blew out the smoke just above her head. “If you think you’re so worthless, then why not find another job under Kindly Cheng, that you think your skills are more suited? Such as repairing drones like the dull Matthew, or sell shoddy products with the childish man that has that annoying sign above his boat? I’m sure that you will a much safer life if you do so.”

Capricios scowled as she stood straight before Racter, trying to appear tall and bold, though the one foot height difference between them amused him. Is this how she often tries to appear to her brother whenever she is offended, he wondered.

“You have no right to tell me what I can and can not do, Racter! That is my choice!”

“Ah, but my friend, I’m only suggesting the idea. It’s up to you to make the choice of whether you want to or not.”

The decker opened her mouth to say something,but found herself speechless. “I-...! You...-!”

“Besides, if you were truly incompetent in your job, I would had long parted ways from you and the others. Perhaps Gaichu would say the same thing, if you ask him. While this may not bring you the comfort you seek, you should at least keep that in mind, while you waste your time thinking about how ‘worthless’ you think you are.” Racter took another drag of the cigarette then flicked it on the floor to crush it beneath his boot. “Now then, shall we resume our conversation?”

Capricious thought about it. “I’d like to but... you got me thinking about some things again. Maybe... another time?”

The rigger smiled as he gave her a firm nod. “Very well, my friend. I will continue my work then, so if you come back, don’t expect me to give you time to talk.”

“Fair. Do you want me to make you something to eat, Racter?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then. Catch you later... and be careful.”

He chuckled as he turned towards the fabricators. “I always am, my friend.”

[fangirl94stuff]

Sid Wilson (Slipknot)

Y/N

When your husband is the one and only Sid Wilson of Slipknot, you get used to him coming off stage with some injury or coming home from tour with horror stories. You were a very cautious human being, touch wood you’d never broken a bone or spent more than one night in the hospital. So when you met Sid, everyone was surprised you put up with him and all his stage antics.

Sid convinced you to come on tour with the band, and you agreed because you loved seeing him perform, and you could keep an eye on him to make sure he looked after himself. So far Sid was playing nice, he and the rest of the band weren’t getting any younger, and unlike the olden days, the whole band weren’t as crazy and reckless nowadays.

Tonight you were stood side stage watching Sid on one of the monitors, seeing his passion for music and crowd interaction. This tour they’d installed two treadmill style elements to the upper level where Sid was, and he loved to dance on them. You’d pointed out to one of the riggers that some equipment had come loose and was dangling vicariously above Sid, and your husband hadn’t seemed to notice. The rigger told you not to worry.

Six songs in and Sid comes off the treadmill a little too quickly, misses his platform and crashes into the loose equipment. He plays it off and continues to perform. However, he was wearing white and slowly but surely, blood started to seep through the sleeve.

‘Is someone going to tell him? You question out loud, though no one pays you much notice.

Feeling frustrated you move so Sid can see you and point at your arm then at him. Sid looks down and sees the large blood patch, though behind his mask you couldn’t read his expression.

‘Oi, get down from there!’ a tech yells up at you.

You flip him off, ‘none of you seem to care. Get me a first aid kit.’

Normally you were quite docile, but when your husband was hurt, you could get angry. The tech runs off somewhere, while you glare daggers at the others who back away from you.

‘Someone, please grab his reserve outfit,’ you shout towards someone else.

By this time the first guy is back with a first aid kit, and you snatch it off him. You then make eye contact with Sid who nods and comes off stage subtly.

‘I’m not hurt y/n,’ Sid chuckles, but you can hear the pain in his voice.

You point at his arm, ‘you are actively bleeding babe.’

Sid takes off his mask, and you see him flinch. The rigger who told you the loose equipment was fine comes up to Sid and slaps him on the back, ‘I think your girl is overreacting Sid. That was a fluke, what are the chances?’

Sid glares at the rigger while you take off his coat to get access to the wound, ‘this isn’t the first time we’ve had loose equipment. This is the first time one of us has got hurt because of it. Oh yeah, my wife has a name, it's y/n.’

The wound was a little deeper than you expected and would need stitches, but with some bandages, you could stem the bleeding until after the show. You had no formal medical training, but dating Sid, you’d learnt a thing or three about first aid.

‘There you go, you’ll need to get stitches after the show, but right now you’re good to go back on stage,’ you grin.

He leans over and kisses you, ‘thank you beautiful. Continue giving them hell back here.’

‘Err y/n here’s Sid’s spare outfit,’ a scared guy shuffles up to you.

‘Thank you,’ you reply bluntly and take it off them before they rush off.

Sid laughs as you help him get changed, ‘they won’t let you come back on tour with us y/n.’

You roll your eyes, ‘good luck with that. Now get back out there before Corey flips his lid.’

Sid puts on his mask and runs back on stage. Life with Sid Wilson was never boring, and you wouldn’t have it any other way,

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (4/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] 

The open mic was neither a success nor a failure. It was inevitable that they took a hit following Finn's own event, which Clarke refused to think about. She could only hope he'd had as small a profit as Baker's had, though in the end new clientele did come and there was the possibility that they would come again. That was good. They'd had fun, too, especially when Wells and Harper had decided to do some improv to warm up the room.

Despite the pleasant weekend, Clarke was relieved it was over, her body still feeling the effects of long days and short nights. She had what felt like three knots in her back, all of them maddeningly out of reach.

She sipped on her own coffee in between orders that Tuesday, relatively glad for the busy pace. Busy meant she didn't have time to think. Gaia, Harper and her moved around one another with practiced ease, communicating swiftly whenever necessary. Clarke didn't want a second to herself. Whenever she had a moment, she went in the back to check on their stock. She counted jars. She undid and redid her ponytail. There was absolutely no reason for her to think about the past Friday. None at all. She had far more important things to do.

Raven came in after lunch hours, peeking into the kitchen while she took off her hat. Clarke followed her with amusement, wondering why she was acting like a sleuth. 

“Wells is on his break," she told her.

“Oh I know." Raven turned to her and lowered her voice. "I need to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

Raven went around the counter. "Did you get him a birthday present yet?"

Clarke rearranged the presentation of their last few sandwiches on display. "Did I get him a present six weeks in advance? No."

Raven grinned. "Perfect. I got him the best seats to this new play - Nowhere Ground - big fucking hit he's been pissed isn’t on his season pass. But then I started thinking- how amazing would it be if I could get him a backstage tour of the Music Hall too?"

Clarke could guess where this was going. "You think if I had contacts there I wouldn't have pounced on them already? Besides, you're closer to the entertainment business than I am. Doesn't your team know people?"

Raven shook her head. "Too prideful. Theater rivalry and all that.”

Clarke slid closed the display window. “Well... you could ask Niylah? I think her dad does deliveries for the Music Hall. He might know someone.”

“Niylah who I barely know and who you dumped?”

“I didn’t du- okay, just tell me what you need.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Spill.”

“Well my guys couldn't be bothered, but I did get a tip-off that the Music Hall crew hangs out at Barton after Saturday shows. I figured we could go together, schmooze a bit-“

“Wait a minute- Barton?”

“I know what you’re thinking, but there’s no way Daddy’s Boy will be there mingling with tech crew. Besides, the place's changed a lot since college.”

Clarke glanced at the front door, desperate for a new customer to give her a way out. “Why am I being roped into this again?”

“Because I can’t actually do the flirting.”

Clarke pretended to think about it for a second. “Right. I'll pass.”

“Clarke,” Raven groaned. “It’s for your best friend! And you might actually meet someone out of it.”

“Someone like Finn?” Clarke asked pointedly.

“Someone good for you,” Raven amended. “But if you're really not feeling it, you can just slip in a word about your café to a whole crew who’ll probably end up hungover and in dire need of quality coffee the next day."

“Raven...”

“What do you have to lose?”

“A nice warm bath while I finally catch up on my book?”

“Sometimes I look at you and wonder how the fuck you’re single, but then these words come out of your mouth and I remember.”

“You kiss Wells with that mouth?”

“And he loves it. Come on, Clarke. Please?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if anyone makes puns about my buns, I’m out.”

“Fair.”

* * *

Clarke met Octavia Blake just ten minutes after stepping into Barton that Saturday night. Clarke had opted for dark fitted pants and a low-cut top paired with her midnight blue blazer, though in this weather she'd regretted not taking her coat instead. She'd curled her hair and made an effort with her makeup, just enough to at least cover her fatigue. 

Clarke hadn't been to Barton since college, where, yes, she had regrettably met Finn and fallen for his then boyish charm. She'd been swept up in the thrill of dating a politician's son and he'd been after a way to hurt his long-distance girlfriend - that was all there was to know about it all. Clarke's regret was that she had been blind for too long. But Raven was right to say the place was different - and the last time they'd all been here felt like forever ago now. Finn himself hadn't changed much, but Clarke hardly recognized herself in pictures from that time, where her hair went down to her waist and most of her clothes were paint-stained. Everything had been different then; less predictable maybe.

But there was something comforting about habits too. Clarke had that feeling when they walked into the bar, suddenly recognizing everything from the tables to the ceiling. It wasn’t the place that had changed but the people. Gone were the college juniors and seniors, now working adults with better clothes and sharper features. Barton had a sprawling design, with small rooms connected to each other and three different bars. Raven grabbed her hand and led her to the busiest one, where the people couldn't be mistaken for anything other than theater crew. Huddled together with beers in hand, they wore sweatshirts and baseball caps and some even still with gaffer tape hanging from lanyards at the side of their jeans.  

By the sound of them, they were happy to be done for the weekend. There was something infectious about their energy and their tired grins.

"Raven fucking Reyes!" A woman called out after they had gotten their beers.

"Octavia?" Raven gasped aloud. "What the fuck?"

Before Clarke even saw it coming, Octavia had wrapped her arms around Raven and just about lifted her off the ground.

"Shit, what did they feed you at Yale?" Raven asked while laughing.

Octavia stepped back with a wide smile. "Just the regular ramen, but I did take up boxing."

"Figures." Raven turned to Clarke. "Clarke, this is Octavia - a little punk I used to tutor."

"Would've never gotten into Yale without that big brain helping me," Octavia added. "What've you been up to?"  

"Definitely didn't pack on more muscle. I'm at sound engineer at the Swan House."

"Awesome, lots of sound people around tonight. I'll introduce you guys."

Raven glanced at Clarke with a knowing smirk. "Perfect."

"Do you work at the Music Hall?" Clarke asked Octavia.

"Not exclusively. I'm a stunt coordinator," Octavia said, clearly proud. "I'm also an instructor at my friend's gym in the Green Strip."

"Damn," Raven said. "How the hell did you land in Costial after I kicked your ass to Yale?"

Octavia chuckled. “Well I did meet the love of my life at Yale - it just worked out that his family's here in theater city and we could both find plenty of work."

“Is he here?" Raven asked.

"Oh he's always a bit longer after shows, but he'll be around soon. Come on, let me introduce you both to the crew."

* * *

They met riggers and lighting technicians, costumers and makeup artists. Clarke had forgotten how nice it was to see new faces without waiting to hear their order. It was almost like a reflex now, but everyone was warm and welcoming. Clarke had no doubt that Raven would get Wells his backstage tour, and possibly even more.

After a while they sat at one of the side tables, starting on their second beers. Clarke was listening to Octavia when she looked up and the widest smile spread on her face.

"Linc'!" she called.

Clarke froze in her seat, cursing her bad luck. Octavia's boyfriend, the playwright. 

His cousin was right by his side like she had been at the Polis Hotel, looking more jaded than Clarke could imagine anyone being at Barton. When their eyes met, Lexa stopped and seemed to come alive. But Clarke refused to back down this time, remembering how she'd been the one to look away at the party. Lexa had still been a mystery then. It had felt exciting to catch each other across a crowded room. Now Clarke only felt her own pride refusing to let this woman have any lasting hold on her.

Finally Lexa did look away, glancing toward the bar before she walked there. Octavia dragged her boyfriend toward their table.

"Linc', this is Raven and her friend Clarke. Guys, this is Lincoln."

"Raven who got you into Yale?" Lincoln asked with a kind smile.

"Psh, she got herself into Yale," Raven answered. "I just nudged her in the right direction."

* * *

After a while, Clarke excused herself from their table. She'd enjoyed hearing Lincoln talk about the play - and both Raven and her had plenty theater gossip to regale Wells with - but eventually Raven and Octavia moved on to reminiscing and Lincoln stood up to catch up with his colleagues.

Knowing that Raven had clearly found the connections she needed, Clarke got up as well and roamed around each room with her last beer in hand. She looked toward the end of the room and found Lexa alone at a table, one empty drink in hand and her phone in the other. 

Of course. 

Lexa looked up at the very moment, and surprisingly, stood up to walk toward her. Too startled, Clarke barely had the time to pretend she had another destination in mind.

"Clarke-"

"What?" She asked, perhaps too abruptly. 

"Could we sit down and talk?" Lexa asked.

“I don't think we have anything to say to each other."

Lexa swallowed thickly before nodding and looking down at the drink in her hand. Her quick acceptance strangely angered Clarke. She watched as Lexa regained her isolated table and ran her hand through her hair. Still clinging to her bottle, and despite knowing that two beers were fuel for bad decisions, Clarke stepped toward her.

"Actually I do have a question," she said. "What the hell is your problem?"

Lexa quickly looked up, eyes flashing with affront. "Excuse me?"

Clarke stopped on the other side of Lexa's small table. "You start talking to me, telling me about a side-job opportunity, inviting me to the premiere of a packed play, and then you treat me like the plague.”

"I wasn't aware being friendly came with so many expectations."

Clarke reeled from the coldness. "You can’t be serious.”

“What do you really want to say, Clarke?” Lexa asked.

“It's because I refused to be interviewed, isn’t it?"

This seemed to upset Lexa. "I'm a professional, not a child."

Clarke didn't believe a word of it. "Is that the kind of journalist you are? Entitled to other people's stories? Resentful when they turn you down?"

"You don't think very highly of me, do you?" Lexa asked with a clenched jaw.

"I thought we were getting along, that we-"

"What? That we owe each other anything because we had a few chats?"

It hurt, perhaps more than it should have. Lexa was right - it had only been a few conversations - but there had clearly been a shift after Clarke had turned Lexa down. And Clarke was disappointed. Disappointed that the woman she had made up in her mind had turned out to be so bitter. Disappointed that she'd allowed herself to believe Lexa might look at her differently one day.

"You know - if you want to keep sitting at tables alone and tune out the world, you go ahead and do that."

Lexa finally stood up, her stool scraping against the floor.  

"That's rich coming from you."

Clarke felt her blood run hot. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hiding your talent behind your counter, afraid to take a chance on something new. Not exactly eager to step out of your comfort zone, are you?"

"You don't know anything about me!" Clarke snapped.

"I know you draw whenever there's a lull. I know it means something to you, even if you put every single one of them in the trash when you're done."

Clarke was taken aback for a moment, but recovered swiftly. "Not everyone needs their hobby to become a business. Who do you think you are acting like you can read people based on a few minutes of their lives?"

"That would be my job - one you seemed to find interesting at the market," Lexa answered dryly, but with such an air of arrogance that Clarke felt suddenly spiteful.  

"You think the Gazette is so fucking important? Get over yourself, Lexa."

"At least I put myself out there," Lexa retorted harshly. 

"At least I'm honest," Clarke fumed.

“With everyone but yourself it would seem.”

Clarke drew in a sharp breath. "You know what? You can talk all you want about integrity, but I'm not the one who tried to get closer in the hopes of getting a story. I'm not the one who wants everyone but herself to bare their fucking soul."

Lexa looked like she had been slapped and Clarke knew she needed to leave before they made a scene. It was clear by now that they would never see eye to eye.

"I hope you and your new coffee shop are very happy together."

* * *

Clarke walked out of the bar feeling grateful for the brutal cold. It felt like the only thing that might calm her down. She couldn't believe the turn the night had taken. Couldn't believe she'd even confronted Lexa, let alone snapped at her. Lexa's indignation had only spurred her on, but what she'd said had awakened a snarling creature. Lexa didn't have a clue what it took to run a business. Sacrifices were a part of it - she couldn’t just waste what precious time she had on pastimes. How arrogant could she be to act like she knew better?

Clarke had been so wrong. Lexa was a stuck-up, self-absorbed, entitled bitch and there was no universe where Clarke would take a person like that to bed. She'd ruined things with Niylah for a feeling that had turned out so laughably wrong. Well, screw the vision. No one knew for certain that they were glimpses of the future. No one knew a damn thing.

"Clarke, wait up!"

Clarke turned and waited for Raven, who jogged toward her and then leaned down on her knees. "Jesus, you're fast in heels."

Clarke blinked, as if suddenly remembering she'd left without even checking on her friend. "Oh Raven, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Hey, it's okay. What happened?"

“Nothing."

"You hightailed out of that bar because nothing happened?"

Clarke shook her head, unable to get the words out.

"It's that woman - Lincoln's cousin, isn’t it? She's played a number on you."

"I didn't meant to cut your evening short, you were having fun and-"

Raven grabbed her hand. "Hey, forget about that. You being safe and happy is more important to me."

"Raven…"

"Come on, let's go. I'm freezing my ass off."

* * *

They settled in Raven's car, warming up thanks to the heat. Raven drove slowly, giving Clarke ample time to calm down. In the small space and in the dark, Clarke felt like she could finally confess what she'd kept from everyone.

"I had a vision," she said.

Raven's eyes widened. "What? When? At the bar?"

"No, weeks ago."

Raven quickly glanced at her. "Shit, Clarke. I mean- congrats! Why didn't you say so earlier? You know we've been rooting for you."

Clarke paused, her cheeks feeling hot. "I didn't know how to… It was, um… sexual."

Raven snorted. "Well, you know I saw Wells' bare ass in the shower asking me to move in with him."

Clarke laughed despite how heavy the moment felt. "Yeah, but this wasn't like that. The way she held me-"

"She?" Raven asked, and then, "Oh. Same woman from the bar, right?"

"How do you know?"

“No offense, but this is the first time I’ve seen you this worked up about someone, and I was there during the Finn era.”

“Seven months aren’t an era,” Clarke argued.

"But it was her, wasn't it?"

Clarke refused to replay her vision again. "I don't know anymore. I thought it might be, but she's so… she's just not who I thought."

"Then forget about who it was. Just take it as a wakeup call."

Clarke looked at her. "Wakeup from that?"

Raven hesitated. "Clarke… don't you realize how hard it's been to hang out with you this past year?"

"I'm trying to run a business," Clarke defended.

"Wells runs it too. Are you saying he's slacking?"

"No, of course not. You know I couldn't do it without him."

"Right. But when Wells gets home, he leaves work at the door. We hang out or we go out, sometimes together, sometimes separately. He never misses a play and he rock climbs every chance he gets, even if just for an hour. The café means a lot to him, you know that, but it doesn't mean everything."

Clarke tried to imagine that for her. "Honestly that sounds exhausting. I can barely pick up my feet at the end of the day."

Raven bit her lip. "For a while he felt the same, but then he kinda realized he was making excuses."

Clarke frowned. "I go out."

"Do you? Or do you wait for people to either ask or drag you out?"

"It's just been busy with the holiday season," Clarke justified.

"Before that it was the college season and before that it was summer. Don't you have the budget to hire someone else at this point?"

Clarke sighed. "Wells talked about another full timer, and someone else on the weekends, but I haven’t really looked into it yet."

"Right. All I'm saying is it's not fun feeling like the bad guy for wanting to hang out with you."

"Do you really feel that way?"

"I feel like you've made your business your spouse, but a place can't be a home. So maybe seeing yourself bone a stranger is your body's way of saying it needs something a bit more exciting than cold sheets and a 5am wakeup for the rest of your life."

"You're as eloquent as ever, Rae."

Raven smiled as she turned into Clarke's street. "I'm a genius."

* * *

Clarke locked the door behind her and took off her coat, thinking about Raven’s words and the way the evening had panned out. The anger was snuffed out of her, replaced by exhaustion and a feeling of regret. She couldn’t believe she’d somehow given Lexa the power to upset her so thoroughly. That she’d believed for one second that Lexa might-

No, she wouldn’t replay each interaction again. She wouldn’t even think about her anymore. Clearly trying to cross the line between them had been a mistake. There was nothing to be gained from it. Lexa was only after stories - wanted secrets in exchange for dust, and Clarke never wanted to see her name in one of her pieces.

Raven was right: she’d focused too much on who had been in her vision rather than what it meant. She was lonely and she’d had a vivid fantasy - it was no more than that. People fantasized about strangers every day; about leading different lives with different people. The past year had seen her doing the same thing with the same people every day. It wasn’t strange that her subconscious would crave some excitement. She’d had such a fixed impression of Lexa; quiet, reserved, polite Lexa. Clarke could see why a part of her would find it thrilling to draw her out of her shell. To be the focus of Lexa’s razor-sharp attention and deft hands.

But her impression had been wrong. She’d acted on something that was never there in the first place. She'd let the vision influence her to the point of acting completely out of character. That was her mistake.

Clarke took off her heels and walked to the bathroom to wash up. She put her hair up, washed her face, put on her pajamas and slipped into bed with the covers up to her neck. All she had to do was sleep it off. Tomorrow she could put these past few weeks behind her. Move past the vision.

Lexa was never going to be a part of her life. She wasn’t a stranger or even a customer anymore. She wasn’t anything at all. Clarke turned around and buried her face in her pillow.

-

[part five]

[rami-hoe]

Circus Freaks Chapter One

Summary: Aspiring writer Barbara decides to follow the King Company Circus to get authentic inspiration for her book. 

Word Count: 6K

Pairing: Merriell Shelton x OC (slowburn)

The cab pulled into the lot just after 7:30. I’d woken up before six just to make sure I could get there on time, but I still arrived after the action had started. I handed my driver a handful of bills. “Keep the change,” I said. I scooted over to the door and pushed it open. 

“Don’t forget your bag,” the driver called over his shoulder as he slipped the money into his pocket. I uttered a breathless ‘thanks’ and grabbed my bag as I jumped out of the car. The wheels began to turn before I had even closed the door. The rain spat down on my face and I pulled my umbrella out of my backpack. I lifted the straps onto my shoulders and pushed the umbrella open as I walked towards the hub of activity. A field of canvas was spread out over the lot, and the riggers bustled around it. They knotted ropes and pounded stakes deep into the ground as I ghosted through the lot. I made sure to give them a wide berth, but my mere presence was enough to warrant some pretty nasty looks. It was a bit of a relief that I wasn’t the only person on the receiving end of them, though. A handful of onlookers stood up on the hill; a man with a camera, snapping pictures no doubt meant to be developed in black and white and hung up with the other student art projects. A family stood beside him. The father kneeled down beside the kids and pointed at the canvas. Though I couldn’t hear what he was saying, I could imagine it was some quick remark about how, in just a few short hours, this place would be transformed, and they would be able to come back and enjoy the show. A small smile tugged at my lips. My father always brought me to the circus bright and early too, before it was set up. He told me it was important to appreciate the workers we didn’t get to see on stage. He always made me wave to them. Looking back, I’m sure our presence was something of a nuisance to them, and my waving did little to rectify that. 

I pulled my backpack around and pulled my notebook out. I pulled the pen off the rings and flipped open to the first page. I stood on the sidelines and wrote, jotting down notes about the people and the venue. I made my way up the hill; I figured I’d be more out of the way there. The family had retreated to their car and driven off by the time I arrived, but the photographer was still there. He lowered his camera as I approached and shot me a smile. 

“Here to watch the load in too?” he asked. I nodded and looked back down at my notebook. He shuffled over to me. “You a writer or something?” I tucked the book against my stomach as he tried to peer down at it, and turned to face him. 

“Yep,” I said. “And I take it you’re a photographer.” 

He chuckled. “Just a student for now,” he said. “But I’m working on it.” He fiddled with one of the many buttons on his camera. “I wanted to come down and get a few shots before it all went up,” he said. “Capture the reality before it becomes the fantasy.” He puffed out his chest as he gazed down at the landscape. I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. He turned back to me and gave me a look I could only assume was meant to be sophisticated contemplation, although it came across more like he was letting out a long, silent fart. Here it comes. “Has anyone ever told you, you’re absolutely stunning?” I could hold back the laugh that time, but I did manage to keep it down to a short chuckle that I was sure could pass as amusement. “You know, I would love to shoot you sometime,” he said. “Find a nice, quiet spot. Maybe a park. Lots of grass, maybe a few trees.” 

I dragged my thumb along the side of the notebook. The soft paper was immobile beneath my skin. “Yeah… I just don’t think I have the time,” I said. “I’m gonna be pretty busy the next few months.” I swung the cover of my notebook around to close it and raised it up as a kind of barrier between out chests. “With writing and everything.”

He nodded and took a step back. “Fair enough,” he said. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small piece of cardstock. “But when you get back in town-” he handed the card to me “-why don’t you give me a call?” 

I plucked the card from his fingers and smiled. “Sure,” I said. It was easier to throw the card away once he left than to argue with some stranger about why I didn’t want to go out with him. I tucked the card between the pages of my notebook, and he turned back to snap a few more pictures in a lunge far deeper than necessary. I wondered if he realized he hadn’t bothered to introduce himself before attempting to entice me with an intimate photoshoot. 

The photographer, who remained nameless even as he trotted down the other side of the hill and revved his car to get my attention one last time before he drove off, didn’t stay longer than a half-hour. I wasn’t entirely sure what the point of the shoot was if he didn’t stay for the best part: the lifting of the tent. My dad always made us stay until the tent had risen up. He said it was the best part of the circus coming to town; seeing that canvas climb higher and higher into the sky. I couldn’t say I disagreed. When that canvas was on the ground, it was just a lot, but as soon as those ropes carried it up… It became something else entirely. When I was little, I used to look up at the tent and swear it was tall enough to touch the clouds. Even now, when I was old and tall enough to know better, I was mesmerized by the tent reaching towards the heavens. 

The riggers’ job outside was done before long, and they moved into the main tent to set up the stage. It was about that time that the performers began to emerge from their trailers and head backstage. They weren’t in costume yet, but I liked to guess which performers they were; who were the acrobats, who were the clowns. Some of them had writing and pictures on the side of their trailers, but I was too far away to make them out clearly. I’d have to remind myself to try and get a closer look after the show; some of the artwork was truly incredible. 

I waited up on that hill until I heard the music drifting out of the tent. Cars began to pull up into the lot and park. Families jumped out, and soon the excited squeals of children mixed with the music. My eyes fell on two kids who had gotten away from their parents. They ran up to the tent with the biggest grins on their faces, shouting back at their parents to hurry up. The couple walked hand in hand towards their kids, and all four of them disappeared inside the entrance tent. I descended from the hill and joined the wave of people moving towards the box office. My notebook was stashed safely away in my backpack as I greeted the ticket man with a smile. He barely looked at me; no doubt he would forget my face as soon as it was out of his sight. 

I continued on into the main tent, and was rushed into the world of wonder the labourers had worked so hard to create this morning. It never ceased to amaze me how they could create something so awe inspiring in just a few short hours. I found a seat near to the front and placed my backpack between my feet. I leaned against the chair back and watched the people file into the tent. The audience filled up before long. It must have been a sold out show, but that wasn’t particularly surprising. This town didn’t get a lot of special events like this. The circus was a rarity, and it looked like everyone had come out to take advantage of the opportunity. 

I would say a hush fell over the audience when the lights dimmed, but that wasn’t entirely accurate. Something vaguely resembling a hush, with the exception of children’s voices, practically vibrating with anticipation, asking if it was starting, and the parents in the audience shushing them. The ringmaster stepped out from behind the curtain and strutted to the center of the ring. He raised his hand and earned silence in return. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he called out, his booming voice reaching every inch of the tent. “Boys and girls. Prepare to be amazed, dazzled, and delighted!” The children in the audience cheered as the ringmaster, who introduced himself as ‘Ack Ack’, went through his speech. When he punched his finishing line: “welcome to the show,” the performers poured through the curtains in a bright display of pomp and pizzazz. Everybody in the audience under the age of ten jumped up and rushed to the barriers to get a closer look. The performers grinned and waved, some blowing kisses, others showing off a few tricks that hinted at what their act would be. Two men entered the ring with a series of handsprings and presented their agility to the audience. A woman adorned with blue spandex and gold glitter pranced and twirled, spinning a red ribbon around her body. A thin man wearing black slacks and suspenders over a bare chest brandished silver daggers that reflected the stage lights back at the audience. The sight of the sharp edges made the boys in the audience scream. 

The parade of talented faded back into an empty stage, save for Ack Ack. He took a moment to thank the audience for coming, then the drums began to roll. Ack Ack sauntered around the outer edge of the ring, smirking at the audience. The lights over the house were off; I was sure he couldn’t see any of our faces, but it still looked like he was trying to stare into the eyes of each and every person in the tent as he introduced the first act. They started off slow; clowns, stilt walkers, and jugglers performing small tricks to warm up the audience. Each act departed the stage with an abundance of cheers, and made way for the next. Ahk Ahk told the audience to prepare to be astounded by the acrobatic stylings of Sledgehammer, Daisy, and the PFC, and astounded we were. The two men flipped and tumbled on the floor while Daisy ascended high above the stage. No wires or harnesses aided her in her journey; just large bands of fabric draped from the ceiling. The climbed them seemingly without the burden of her own weight, and bent and contorted herself in the air. Every move she made was effortless. The men, on the other hand, seemed to be exerting quite a bit of effort. I could see the sheen of sweat covering their bodies from where I was sitting. Their lean muscles flexed as they moved about the stage. I saw more than a few women in the audience eyeing them, while making a decided effort to ensure the men they came with didn’t see they were looking. Of course, the men in the audience didn’t have quite as much subtlety when it came to staring at Daisy. But then again, it wasn’t just the men; Daisy had captured the attention of a good portion of the women as well. I couldn’t say I wasn’t feeling just a little hypnotized by those legs myself. I could have enjoyed a full show of just the three of them, but their act couldn’t last forever. 

The roar of applause during their exit almost drowned out Ahk Ahk introducing Fools and Errand. The girl sitting next to me, who couldn’t have been more than four years old gasped when she saw the two men standing up on the tightrope. That wasn’t the only time she gasped during their routine; she was rather mesmerized by the performance. She let out a small shriek when Fools ‘lost his balance.��� He swung his arms in three large circles before flipping back off of the rope. His hands latched onto the rope just in time, and he swung back around. The little girl danced at the miraculous display, only to scream in horror when he toppled Errand off of the platform. The small man flipped over the safety railing; it took a keen eye to see the little jump that got him the height he needed. Fools stood proudly on his own while his partner fell back first into the safety net and bounced back up. 

The filler act killed about fifteen minutes while two men dressed all in black rolled out a large wheel and set it up in the middle of the ring along with three small targets with balloons tacked onto them. The clowns strolled off the stage as Ahk Ahk announced the ‘deadly stylings of Snafu and Cherie.’ The pair sauntered out arm in arm. The heels lifted Cherie about four inches over Snafu, but his wild hair made up the difference. Cherie peeled off Snafu’s coat and tossed it to a stagehand. He was a skinny guy, but the lights revealed the definition of his muscles; his arms were… Well, impressive to say the least. But most people weren’t looking at his arms; they were looking at the knives he was holding, two in each hand. He juggled one rotation with the blades, the primary purpose of which seemed to be moving three of the knives into one hand. The drums rolled, and everyone in the audience held their breath as Snafu stepped in between the three targets. With one fluid motion, he extended his arm and threw the knife. It hit the balloon square in the center, which popped so loudly I wondered if they had microphones attached to the targets. He took out the remaining two targets with similar ease and speed. The audience erupted in applause as the final balloon exploded on its post, and Snafu raised his arms in victory. He held his hand out, and Cherie stepped forward to take it. He guided her over to the wheel and strapped her in as the stage hands removed the now empty targets. He secured her limbs and stepped back, pulling two blades from his belt. The drums rolled once again as he turned towards the target pulled his throwing arm back. A gasp moved through the audience as he flung the knife forwards. It landed about a foot and a half to the right of her stomach. After the second knife embedded itself in the wooden wheel on the opposite side, Snafu turned around and the audience, once again, applauded. But then the wheel started to turn, and the audience grew silent. He pulled the remainder of his knives, five in total, from his belt, and turned back to face Cherie. One by one, the knives flew. Some struck two feet away from her body, others merely six inches, but each thud of the metal burying itself in the wood pulled a cry from the audience. After the last dagger landed, the wheel stopped with Cherie left upside down. Snafu unlatched her and she flipped off the wheel with unbelievable grace. The pair took their bows to thunderous applause, and jogged back through the curtain. 

The last act of the show was a daredevil who Ahk Ahk introduced as “Lucky.” He promised we would be holding our breaths through his performance, and he certainly wasn’t wrong. I was sure there was some sort of trick involved, that the risk to Lucky was negligible, or at the very least not as great as it seemed. Though he was a talented enough performer, and he certainly captured the interest of the audience, my thoughts remained with his predecessor. Snafu and Cherie’s act had left my throat dry and my heart pounding, and I wouldn’t be forgetting them any time soon. They could have been the closers if you asked me. No doubt they would say the same. 

The final parade was met with even more cheers and applause. The children rushed to the barricades to wave at the performers as they circled the ring and disappeared back behind the curtains. I heard at least one child ask where they were going, and knew there were others in the crowd wondering the smile. I always wanted to know what lay behind that curtain. When I was a child, I thought it must be some kind of wonderland. Even now, when I was sure it was nothing more than a dressing tent crammed wall-to-wall with props and sweaty bodies, it was hard to let go of the fantasy. 

I stayed in my seat while the audience began to clear out. The families were all eager to be the first ones out, and the first ones in line for the other attractions. I’d been to enough circuses to know what awaited them outside; a parade of flashy souvenirs and overpriced food, and for those to managed not to be tempted by those, a showman selling tickets to the sideshow. By the time I made my way out of the tent, half the crowd had already fallen victim to one of the many traps laid out to separate them from their money. I didn’t plan on being sucked in; I didn’t have a lot of money with me, and I couldn’t afford to waste it on cheap trinkets and double-fried junk. 

The first employee I found without a ten-person deep line in front of them was one of the riggers. The wifebeater, jeans, and steel toes would have made that fact clear even if he wasn’t fiddling with one of the lines as I approached him. 

“Hi,” I said with a smile. The look on his face told me loud and clear he wasn’t used to dealing with the public, and he had absolutely no interest in it. The poorly disguised loathing in his eyes gave me more than enough reason to seek out someone else to talk to, but there was no one within eyesight. I swallowed my nerves and tried to paint a friendly expression on my face. “I’m looking for the, uh, business manager?” His reply was an unchanging expression. “Or whoever handles the business operations.” He stood up and brushed his hands off of his jeans. The grease, the source of which I was still unsure of, left a brown smear across the faded blue denim. He shoved his wrench in his back pocket and walked passed me. Something told me I wasn’t supposed to follow him.

I went through two employees before I found one willing to talk to me when they realized I didn’t want to buy anything. He told me to ask the ticket man in the box office. The boy sitting behind the glass window couldn’t have been older than eighteen. He flipped through his magazine, either ignoring or unaware of my presence until I cleared my throat. All I got from him was a name and directions, but that was more than I had gotten from anybody else. I felt a little uneasy going backstage without an escort; I got the feeling I wouldn’t be overly welcome. 

I went around to the side of the back tent and stepped through the canvas curtains. Props and costumes were littered everywhere; well, littered might not have been the best word. Everything looked like it was quite well organized, surprisingly. The objects were all sorted based on who they belonged to and who would be using them, but they were still everywhere. Organized chaos, that was the phrase. I followed the sound of voices through the tent until I spotted someone who looked like they actually belonged there. I had to squeeze by a costume rack to get to where he was sorting his blades into a cloth knife holder. “Excuse me,” I said. He barely glanced over his shoulder at me, but I figured that was the best I was going to get from him. “I’m looking for, uh… Gunny?” 

He shoved the last knife into its pocket and rolled the cloth up. “He’s back there,” he drawled, gesturing to the right corner of the tent. 

“Thank you,” I said. He tucked his cloth under his arm and turned around as I stepped forward to follow the all too narrow path to the corner Snafu had directed me to. I managed to stop my momentum before I bumped into him, but he didn’t move an inch. I stepped to the side, and he strutted passed me and made his way out of the tent. 

The path through the tent was surprisingly easy to follow. I didn’t get turned around once, although I did get a few furrowed brows and narrowed eyes from the people I encountered on my way. I found Gunny, or least, the person I assumed was Gunny, sitting near the edge of the canvas at small fold out table he had made into his desk. I greeted him with a small ‘hi’ I tried not to let sound to timid. Circus people were all about confidence; I wasn’t going to win them over by acting like I was terrified just being back here, no matter how true that was. 

Gunny eyed me up and down. “Can I help you?” Well, one thing was certain: he had far more people skills than most of his colleagues. I guess that would be a necessity, since he was the one working with the public to organize the show. 

“I’m Barbara,” I said. I extended my hand towards him, and he gave it a quick compulsory shake. “I’m a writer, and I’m working on a story about a circus troupe.” Gunny stared at me without so much as blinking. I gave up on getting an initial reaction from him, and continued on. “I was hoping to follow your operation for the season. I want to make the story as authentic as possible.” 

Gunny scratched his nose. “And what do you want from me?” he asked. 

I blinked. “Well, uh…” 

“You don’t need permission to follow us,” he said. “Our route is on the back of our flyer.”

“Oh no, I know that,” I said. “But I was hoping… Well, it’s just that, it’s the people I’m interested in more than the show.” The show was incredible, of course, but it was the characters I needed help with. I couldn’t make them seem real; I’d never met anyone like the people I was trying to create. 

Gunny had returned his attention to his papers about halfway through my introduction. “Look, I can’t stop you from following us,” he said. “And if you wanna chat with my people after the show’s over, that’s fine too. Lot of them go out for drinks once we close.” He scribbled a quick note on one of the papers straying near the edge of the table. “The public isn’t allowed backstage, in the cook shack, or the trailers.” I chewed my bottom lip; I should have known I wasn’t supposed to be back here without an escort. 

“Okay…” I got the distinct impression that was all I was going to get out of him. “Thank you. I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” My face grew hot as I spun on my heels and hurried out of the tent. Really, I shouldn’t have been expecting that conversation to go any other way. The circus was a notoriously tight knit community; they didn’t like outsiders coming into their space. 

The first group of circus goers dwindled off by the mid afternoon, but they were quickly replaced by the evening crowd. The 7:00pm show went off just as well as the first. I didn’t mind paying the second entry fee; it was worth seeing again. Just like last time, the performers left the stage with the audience on their feet, cheering and clapping. The crowd cleared out much faster with the evening show; the parents were eager to get the kids home and into bed before it got too late. A few couples stayed to play some of the games and have a snack before they left, but before long, the lot was empty. As the riggers made their second appearance of the night, to undo all the work they had done that morning, the performers began to trickle out of their trailers and make their way across the lot. Some I recognized from the show; most I didn't. Out of their makeup and costumes, a lot of them could be mistaken for an average person. Not all of them, but enough that this group of people walking along the side of the road didn't attract too much attention. None of them spared me a glance, but I was starting to feel just a little grateful I was so invisible to them; when they did look at me, it sure as hell wasn't with kind eyes. I trailed after them, well aware of just how like a stalker I was acting, until they arrived at their destination: a run down bar not far from the lot. The sign hanging over the door was completely burnt out, but the neon ring continued to glow around the word 'open' in the window. Looking directly at it left black splotches over my field of vision. 

I slipped into the bar after the group. Most of them had made their claim to a handful of tables. A couple were at the bar ordering their drinks, and two of the men had set their sights on picking up one of the local women. The first, a man I didn't recognize, had plunked himself down in a group of women, and appeared to be chatting all of them up with equal attention. The second, Snafu, was leaning against the bar and whispering in a woman's ear. His hand was on her knee, and whatever he was saying was putting a big smile on her face. I hadn't come in two minutes after them; how the hell did he work that fast? 

I spent the evening nursing a couple virgin drinks and doing my best not to stare at any one of them for too long at a time. I was hoping to fly under the radar tonight; I'd say I got what I wanted. The largest group was easy enough to observe; they made no attempt to stay quiet as they drank and joked. It was a great opportunity to get to see the group dynamics at play; how they interacted with each other when they were in an unfamiliar environment, the way they closed themselves off so subtly but so completely. But every so often, a giggle would draw my attention back to Snafu and his lady of choice. Every time I looked back, she was making it more obvious that all he had to do was say the word and they could go wherever he wanted. Playing with her hair, pushing her chest out, running her hand over his thigh, biting her bottom lip oh so seductively. But every time I looked over, there they were. Still in the bar. Fully clothed. I didn't understand it; Snafu could have taken her back to his trailer five minutes after he walked into the building. What was he waiting for? I got the only answer I was going to get around one in the morning, when the group settled their tab and made their way out of the bar. Snafu got up to follow. His lady friend gripped his arm, either asking him to stay or asking if she could go with him; I couldn't hear the specifics. Either way, Snafu's answer was very clearly no. He pulled his arm away, shoved his hand into his pocket and tossed a couple of crumpled bills on the bar. The bartender nodded and counted out the cash. I craned my neck to see; it couldn't have been more than a few dollars, but he had been drinking all night. The woman turned on her stool and stared down at the counter as Snafu made his way over to the group. He pulled a box of cigarettes out of his breast pocket and took one between his lips. As he flicked his lighter on and held it to the end of the cigarette, the other man, who hadn't had quite as much luck with his girls' night out group, scurried over and clapped him on the shoulder. I squinted my eyes and scanned the familiar features of his face, trying to place him. 

"The hell you wan', Peck?" Snafu muttered around the cigarette. 

Peck nodded towards the woman he had abandoned at the counter. "You done with her?" he asked. 

Snafu took the cigarette between his fingers and blew out a long stream of smoke directly into Peck's face. "She's all yours," he said.

The lot of them left the bar. Peck, and Snafu's friend followed a few minutes after, and I was left in the bar with handful of drunk locals. I left the money for my last drink on the counter and walked into the night. The wind moved right through my jacket and left goosebumps over my skin. I shivered and wrapped the fabric over my torso, hunching my shoulders and scampering off to my motel room. The train to their next location left at seven in the morning; I had to try and get a little sleep before I had to get up again.

***

Notes:

-Ill tempered when dealing with the public on a casual level 

-Don't talk to outsiders

-When they leave the lot, they stick together

-If they take someone back to their trailer, they don't spend the night 

-Us versus them mentality

-

I sighed. It wasn't enough. I needed to get to know these people, to see how they behaved up close and personal, but they wouldn't let me anywhere near them. I'd been following them for six shows, and I was lucky if I could get any of them to say two words to me once the show was over. After their first show, I'd gone on a strict budget. I didn't have a lot of money and I needed to stretch it out as long as I could. But even staying at the cheapest motels and riding nothing but public transportation, my cash was running out at a rapid pace. I had one more show left, maybe two if I didn't eat. But it wouldn't be enough. One or two more shows weren't going to get me what I needed. Nine or ten wouldn't either. As long as I was just a follower, I would always be "them," and they would want nothing to do with me. 

It surprised me that, considering how they felt about the public in their spaces, nobody bothered to tell me to leave when I went into the back tent to find Gunny. I got some questionable looks, sure, but nobody asked me what I was doing or told me I shouldn't be back there. Gunny was in his usual corner of the tent, but he wasn't alone when I arrived; another man leaned against the edge of his desk. Gunny's eyes fell on me, and their conversation came to a halt. 

"You're back," he said. The other man turned over his shoulder and looked me up and down. My eyes widened when I got a proper look at his face; it was Ack Ack, the ringmaster. God, he looked different out of costume. Gunny waved me forward and I walked to the front of his desk. "What is it now?" Not exactly the friendliest of greetings, but at least he wasn't telling me to fuck off. 

I had planned out exactly what I was going to say, but with both men staring at me, but well prepared statement fell right out of my head. "I, well, uh, I just- I mean, I was hoping I could ask-" 

"Spit it out," Gunny said. 

I took a breath. "Is there anything I can do, in terms of helping around?" I asked. "I'd like-"

"A job," Gunny finished for me. He chuckled. "Run outta money, huh?" My lips parted to respond, but he didn't give me the chance. "Look, we don't have anything for someone like you, okay?" 

I couldn't say that wasn't the answer I had been expecting, but my heart still sank in my chest when I heard it. Part of me had been holding out hope that... Well, it didn't matter now. "Okay," I said. "Thanks anyway." 

Ack Ack shifted on the desk as I stepped back. "Could always use another shill around," he said. It wasn't directed at me, but it was enough to stop me in my tracks. 

Gunny shook his head. "We have shills," he said.

"No," Ack Ack said. "We have artists you make do shill work after the show." He placed his hand behind him and leaned over it to stretch out his back. "They don't like it, and they half ass it." 

Gunny folded his arms over his chest and sighed. "She's a gilly," he said. 

"Then she'd be a perfect shill," Ack Ack said.

Gunny turned his eyes back to me. It felt like hours before he finally shook his head and spoke. "We can't pay you," he said. "You'd get three square meals a day, a bed in the cook shack, and a ride to the shows." 

"That's fine," I said. "That's perfect." 

He turned back to Ack Ack. "And since it was your idea, she can ride with you." Ack Ack chuckled and slid off the desk. "Now both of you get the hell outta here," Gunny said, returning to his paperwork. "Can't get any damn work done around here," he muttered.

I followed the path out of the tent with Ack Ack hot on my heels. I squinted as we stepped out into the sun, and turned back to him. "Thank you," I said. 

"Don't," he said. "I saw an opportunity to help my people out and I took it." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nothing to do with you, gilly." He brushed by me and pointed to a small tent behind the other two. "That's the cook shack," he said. "Meals don't always happen at the same time every day, but there'll always be three of them." He led me far enough around the tent so we could see the trailers. "That's mine up front," he said. "We make the jump at four. If you're not there, I'll leave without you." I didn't doubt that. 

"What exactly does a shill do?" I asked.

"I was getting to that," Ack Ack said. "What you do is make sure the clems spend as much cash as they have," he said. "Go to the blowoff, play the games, look like you're having a good time." He sniffed. "You get your float from me. Make sure the operators know your face before you start and they'll rig the games for you. Got it?" There were a couple words in there that I didn't understand, but I made my assumptions from the context and nodded; I didn't want him thinking I was completely useless before I even started. "Good," he said. "Stay out of the roustabouts' way, don't oach, don't pick fights, and you should be okay." He held his hand out and I shook it. "Welcome aboard, gilly."

Permanent tag list:  @siriuslovesmarlene, @lainternettuale, @cleopatra-knowles, @peterpanfromlemonland, @malek-lover, @adoremalek, @txmel, @sherlollydramoine, @frami-mercury-malek @sassystrawberryk

AO3 Link 

[namjuicyy]

Sweet Thing

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Smut.

Summary: Your boyfriend was more like a prince than an idol, he even had the hair to match. But when that hair went back, you knew Master was going to give you a rough ride.

Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, master kink, lingerie kink, spanking, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, begging, dirty talk, degradation, dry humping, praise kink, protected sex, vaginal sex, rough sex, aftercare. 

You had never met anyone as beautiful as Park Jimin. Inside and out he was absolutely stunning. He had a warm heart that glowed whenever he was happy, he just shone. He glowed like the Angel Gabriel in the Christmas play. He was an angel. He'd hold your hand whenever you were out in public, unashamedly showing you off to the rest of the world. He'd cheer you on in anything you did, regardless of whether or not you'd fail because he supported you 100%. He made you laugh when you were down, stroked your cheek as he listened to you speak. He was such a gentle gentleman, you sometimes questioned if he was real. And that was just his personality.

He had such strong features, and a jawline that would slice a watermelon in two; a feature of his you loved to kiss as much as you possibly could. His eyes were always intense, regardless of his emotion. His hands, small but powerful, as on more than one occasion he had you screaming because of them. His lips were so plump and soft, you couldn't stop kissing him, despite the years you'd been together. His body was slender and muscular. And more recently, a rough tattoo was added, an English word running across his ribcage adding just that extra layer of hotness. You remember when he first got it and came home to show you, despite the fact that it was red and swollen, you jumped him there and then and rode him on the sofa, using his abs as leverage as you allowed yourself to bounce on his cock. His well-structured, fat cock that always stretched you out so good. But his hair was perhaps your biggest weakness. His hair made him look like a real Prince Charming. It was layered and volumized, and he liked to play with it a lot. He'd run his hands down the middle to get it out his face, and despite the fact that he looked like the douchebag romantic interest of a teenage comedy, he was mesmerizingly gorgeous.

But Jimin was somewhat possessive. He had a bit of a jealous side to him that you didn't see very often down to his bright and bubbly personality, but when you did, oh boy. Jimin was a whole other kind of sexy when he was pissed off or jealous. When he was being serious, you knew he could do you some serious damage. And there were times when you wanted him to.

Jimin was a dom through and through. He was a sadist, a rigger, your Master. And you loved to push his buttons. Just like you were doing tonight.

Bangtan never really threw parties, they were too busy to really enjoy them. But this new come back was different. They'd worked so hard and deserved to celebrate the release of their latest album. And, being so close to the band, you were obviously one of the first names on the guest list. And you dressed to impress, you always did. You made sure to wear your best colour, and the style your man loved so you could look good for him. You never felt the need to look good for him. You never felt the pressure to. In fact, he loved you whatever you wore, or in some cases, didn't wear. But tonight you wanted to be as attractive as possible for him. It just made you feel good knowing you'd made him happy.

Except, tonight you weren't making him happy. You were making him livid. Your tight skirt clung to your ass making it stand out more so than usual. Your body language suggested that you were flirting with one of the crew members, when in actual fact he was too busy talking about his children to notice your cleavage, and too in love with his wife to even attempt to shag you in the company toilets. But that wasn't what Jimin was thinking about. While talking to his manager, he caught a glimpse of you and began to imagine the crew member's hands running all over your backside. Your nails digging into his back. No. He shuddered at the thought. He knew you'd never do anything to hurt him. But his staff member, well, he didn't know him that well at all. And he hated this. He hated watching him all over you and vice versa.

You felt his hand on your hip a moment later, squeezing into your flesh hard. His lips moved to your ear, and with a complete disregard for the conversation you were just having, he spoke. "Get in the car." He ordered.

"I'm having a conversation, Jimin. No."

He squeezed your hip harder. "Did you just defy me, Sweet Thing?" His teeth scraped against your ear, a little harder than he intended but it got his point across loud and clear.

"I didn't, Master." You muttered, so only Jimin would hear.

"I didn't think so. Car. Now."

That was the last time he had to tell you, before you bid goodbye to the incredibly confused crew member and made your way out of the building, getting into the company car waiting for you outside. Jimin joined you with the chauffer not too long after, and joined you in the back seat. He was in his dom-space, which meant you had to be incredibly careful. One wrong move and he'd have you begging to cum for days. Weeks even.

The last time you really pissed him off, he took all the batteries out of your toys, hid all the chargers and let each and every single one die. He didn't tell you he'd done that. So when he wound you up and, even fucked you, and refused to let you cum, you couldn't even turn to the toys for release because he pre-empted your step. And when he fucked you, he didn't half ass it. He pleased you with his tongue, he rubbed your clit as he pounded into you, as you couldn't do it given that your hands were tied to the bed. But every single time he got you close, he refused to let you cum. You almost came 60 times that week. He made you count each and every one. You were in tears come the Wednesday marking 7 days, and that was when he'd broken you. Had you begging for your release. He obliged, oh boy did he oblige. Had you cumming 15 times for him in different ways, almost making you beg him to stop. Jimin was a sadist. Borderline evil. He loved punishing you, so he loved it when you were being a brat.

Your rules for when he was in dom-space were as follows; don't look at him without permission, don't touch him or yourself without permission, do nothing unless instructed to do so, don't answer back or question his authority. You were, when instructed to do so, to go into the bedroom and in 10 minutes find and put on a lingerie set of the colour he told you to wear. You had to find a matching hair tie and hand it on the doorknob outside the bedroom. When he told you to do that the first time, you were so, incredibly confused. But he soon made his intentions clear.

The front door closed and you both kicked your shoes off. He looked at his watch and murmured, "pink." He didn't look at you, but you knew the timer was going. You only had a limited amount of time, and you had to choose well.

One time, you decided to see what would happen if you picked a lingerie set that wasn't the colour that he wanted from you. You couldn't sit down for a week. People at your office were incredibly confused.

You obeyed his instructions, heading to the bedroom and stripping immediately. You had to fold your clothes neatly in the corner of the room. He hated mess. The only time he allowed your clothes to be everywhere was if you were stripping each other on the way up to the bedroom because you just couldn't keep your hands off one another. Every other time he had to either not see it, or see it neatly in the corner. Your first pair of pink lingerie was on, a matching hair tie had been hung on the door and you were sat on your knees. Two minutes later, Jimin appeared.

His button up was undone, revealing his torso. His dress trousers were unbuckled and loose around his slim hips. The hair tie was around his thin wrist, and though you wasn't looking at his face, you knew he was biting his lip at the sight of you. His finger was twanging the hair tie. And, with every step he took, it was accented by the sound of the hair tie banging against his wrist.

His voice was soft, but firm. His aura exuded intimidation. He was fully dominating you, and you could feel yourself shrinking in front of him. "You've not been so sweet today, have you, Sweet Thing? Whoring yourself out to the staff." He tutted and crouched down to lower himself to your level. "Don't deny it. I saw you. You were wearing that little, tight skirt that drives me crazy. You know it drives me crazy, Sweet Thing, but you chose to wear it anyway. Why was that?"

"I wanted to look good for you, Master."

He chuckled. It was dark and unlike his usual persona. "For my benefit, Sweet Thing?" He leant forward. "But I wasn't the only one staring at this pretty," his hand landed hard on your ass, "little," he spanked you again, "ass, was I? The staff wanted a piece of you, too. And you didn't tell them who you belong to." His hand then moved up to your neck and squeezed. "You weren't wearing your collar, were you? Look at me." You obeyed.

"No, Master."

"No, Master." He mimicked, almost mocking you. His grip on your neck tightened, shocking you. "You let him want you. You allowed him to look at what's mine. And you did it to get to me."

"No, Master, I didn't, I swear."

His mouth was inches from yours. "Don't lie to me." His tongue darted out and ghosted against your top lip. "Now." He stood up and stepped back. "What am I going to do with you, hm?" You watched him run his hand through his hair and tie the top layer into a tiny ponytail at the back. "How am I going to punish you, so you get it into your beautiful head that you are mine?" There was a short silence. "Get on the bed." He ordered. "Sit on the edge. Spread your legs for me."

He knelt down in between your thighs, his fingers moving to the crotch of your one piece. He moved them out the way, and immediately dove into your cunt, not giving you any time to process or prepare for him. His tongue lapped at your clit, and sucked so hard your eyes widened and a moan caught in your throat. He had never been his rough with oral before, but fucking hell it felt so good. You bucked into his mouth accidentally, which caused him to growl and pinch your thigh. "Are you going to keep still," he snapped, "or am I going to have to make you?"

"I'll keep still, Master. I'm sorry."

He dove back in, this time using the addition of two of his fingers being shoved inside your cunt. He tapped up, just how he knew you liked, making you practically scream. "Master, fuck!" You couldn't help the words, there was no way you could stop them from coming out of your mouth. He felt too good, he was making you feel amazing actually.

He began to move your fingers harder. "Is my Sweet Thing feeling good?" You nodded. "Yeah?" He was being condescending in the way he was speaking. You knew he was belittling you. But fuck, it sounded so hot when he did. He could feel you getting tighter around him, you were so close. He knew you were about to hit your limit. You half expected him to pull out of you and deny you an orgasm. But he didn't. He allowed you to cum all over his fingers, to make a mess over the bed and lie back in a heated, sweaty pile. "Count."

Fuck.

"One."

"Good girl." He took advantage of you lying down, diving back into your sensitive clit. Your feet automatically moved to rest on his shoulders, something he always told you to do because he knew it felt better for you to not be so spread for him. Plus, he enjoyed the feeling of you full thighs covering his head as he pleasured you.

"T-two." You stuttered as you came down from your high.

Your third orgasm came as he pulled out your wand and pressed it on low for the entirety of the time it was attached to your clit. Your fourth came from him turning it up higher just as you were about to cum.

"Five."

"Six."

"S-seven, Master, please."

"What are you begging for, Sweet Thing?"

"It hurts."

He put his hands in the straps of your lingerie and began to pull it down your body, slowly, tantalisingly. He had gone back to teasing you, chuckling to himself as you whined underneath him. Especially as the wet crotch of the fabric was pulled away from your sensitivity. The cold air, despite already feeling it before, surrounded you and made you feel even more sensitive. Your nipples stood to attention, and this didn't escape your master's notice.

"Give me your colour, Sweet Thing."

He established a colour system instead of a safe word so he could gauge your enthusiasm on a certain thing. Traffic light system.

"Yellow."

You moaned as his tongue swirled around your nipple, feeling his trousers, still hiding his cock, rubbed against your cunt. Jimin gasped and looked up at you. He rubbed his cock against you once more. "Does my little Sweet Thing like that?" You didn't get chance to answer as he did it again, over and over, dry humping you and rubbing against your sensitive clit with his clothed erection. His teasing was driving you mad.

"Master, Jimin, please."

"What?"

"Fuck me, please."

You were whimpering and whining, begging hard for him. It came as second nature to you now. At first you felt ashamed, but now you couldn't stop.

"Why do you deserve this cock, Sweet Thing? After everything you've done today."

"I wasn't flirting, Master, I swear. You're the only one who can make me feel this good." Praise kink. Jimin's ultimate weakness. "You own this little cunt, Master. I'm a good girl, I swear."

He got off you, and began to undo his trousers. "Turn around. Ass up, face down."

You were fully exposed to him now, and flinched in excitement as you felt the bed dip behind you. You heard a rip and saw the condom wrapper fall in front of your face, before you felt him push his length into you. He wasn't particularly long, but he was thick enough to have you screaming. He bottomed out quickly, and grabbed hold of your hips, thrusting into you sharply, slamming into you at a merciless pace.

There was a sharp pain delivered to your ass, much harder than any of his spanks usually. That was when you realised his belt was in his hand. "That was for trying to manipulate me into fucking you." He smacked your other cheek with the belt. "And that," he thrust into you harshly, "was just because I wanted to do it again."

You could hear him grunting and moaning behind you, the more he fucked you. He leaned over to grab the wand, and told you to keep it attached to your clit. "I'm getting another one out of you, Sweet Thing." He told you.

"Master, please, I can't."

"Yes you can. Come on. Cum with me. I'm close."

You had only heard of people blacking out when he came when you read fiction. At no point did you think it was a real thing or that you would even do it. It scared the hell out of Jimin. He'd just cum inside the condom and pulled out of you when you fell down limp next to him, spent and so exhausted your body had shut down. When you came to, he was rocking you gently in his arms, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. "Thank God you're okay." He reached over to the bedside table and handed you a glass of water. "Small sips, Sweet Thing. That's a good girl. You did so well for me, Baby. So well."

You handed him back the glass of water and snuggled into his firm chest, but he stopped you. "No, Precious. Come on, let's get you into a warm bath and then we can cuddle until bedtime."

He washed your body and your hair for you, making sure to tell you just how special you were to him. He rubbed moisturiser on your bum, too, in order to soothe the bruises that were beginning to form. He told you he loved you so many times, and in fact, that was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

Jimin was, perhaps, the best man in the world. Because he was truly love personified, even when he was being rough with you.

[silliusssoddus]

I’d Never Be Angry With You

(Part 2 of “Take Another Piece Of My Heart”) A/N: I’m honestly so surprised and grateful for the of love and support I got from part 1 (which I recommend you read before this). And the amount of people that wanted a part 2?? Wowow thank you so much! So here she is and I’d like to apologise because: TRIGGER WARNING - SUICIDE ATTEMPT/SUICIDAL IDEATIONS I’d like to make it clear that my intentions are in no means to glorify or romanticise suicide. I’m not saying this is how every depressed person acts bc this is written based on my own experiences and thoughts. I do not intend to offend anyone with this. If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts or similar please, seek help. You can always talk to me :3 I find talking to be a good way of relieving emotions.

I hope you like it :P and I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.

A year had whizzed by faster than you could’ve ever imagined. After you left your long term friends, you were surprised at how much free time you had now that you weren’t touring with them or joining them in the studio, watching them fall apart at disagreements. You had moved into your parents’ flat, though they were no longer with you. You had no other place to go and this was the safest place that didn’t draw connections to Queen. Every time you thought about the day you left, you’d suddenly get the urge to hit your head until it’s out of your mind. No matter what, nothing filled the empty space in your heart the boys left and John took up the most space.

You spent the whole day writing the final parts of the note you’d been storing for a few months. You were never serious about it, but lately you were the lowest you ever felt. You couldn’t bear living the lie that you were perfectly fine, that you weren’t lonely all the time from isolating yourself in your flat and only went out to buy groceries every other week or so. Even then, you couldn’t gather the energy to make meals.

The note was your final goodbye to everyone, but more importantly an apology to John for wasting his time with your presence.

You closed the front door of the building and got into your car, driving to what was yours and John's favourite place. It was an isolated field on a massive cliff with a bench and a dim streetlight placed on the side. It was perfect. You parked the car and sat on the bench for a while, going through your note and assuring yourself that this was the only way. You didn’t need to live in shame and embarrassment anymore. It was now or never.

Sighing deeply, you walked closer to the edge, stuffing the note in your pocket. You closed your eyes, ready to lean into the pit, when a familiar voice called out from behind you.

You jumped back and turned around to see who it was. Your face went from shock, to confusion and then to anger. “John? What’re you doing here?” He looked intimidated by your harsh tone. You couldn’t find it in you to feel the slightest bit sympathetic.

“I’ve come here every evening ever since we...” he couldn’t even finish the sentence, you could tell it hurt him to think about. The two of you stood there in silence, awkwardness clearly present. It took him a few seconds to realise what you were about to do.

”Christ, Y/N, get away from the edge.” he said, taking a step closer to you as you took one back. Your heels were hanging dangerously off the cliff.

“If you come any closer I’ll- I’ll do it.” you threatened. He had no idea what he had to do.

“Is this because of me?” he said quietly.

“Y-yeah...no it’s my fault. I just feel bad for wasting so much of your time. I’ve written my guilt - and everything else - down.” you stumbled on your words. Everything you said sounded stupid out loud and your cheeks flared with fire.

“Can I see it?” 

You fumbled in your pocket to find your note and reached your arm out for him to take it. 

“It’s written for you anyway.” your voice wobbled.

He ran towards you, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the cliff, not giving you time to react. He then slipped the grip on your arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you into a deep hug. It took you by surprise - not having any sort of affection for over a year made you so fragile that his touch triggered a waterfall of tears. You sobbed into his shoulder and whispered apologies as he shushed you and you felt complete. Being in his arms - it felt like home.

“I love you, Y/N.” he whispered, breaking you out of your trance. Memories of the break up came flowing back. You pushed him away aggressively, tears turning angrier.

“Force of habit, I’m so sorry-” he blushed, eyes falling to look at his feet. He was visibly embarrassed but you didn’t care. At least he understood how moronic you’ve felt.

“Unbelievable. You broke me - I don’t know who I am anymore! That’s what you did to me!” You tried grabbing the note back, but he pulled his hand away, looking down to read it.

“Forget it. I can’t deal with this right now.” 

You stomped off into your car, slammed the door and sped your way home, leaving him to read your pathetic note full of self-hatred.

You were exhausted, sobbing hysterically as you walked into the flat and threw your coat on the hanger. Suddenly, your knees buckled under you and you held onto the walls for support as you made your way into the living room. 

“Could you stop pestering me?”

You couldn’t stop the flashbacks.

“I need you to go.”

The clothes you were wearing quickly drenched in sweat as your hot skin stuck to it. You could feel your breathing getting slower and see everything merging into one big blur of darkness before your head hit the ground.

However, you were unaware that John remembered his way to your parents’ flat and it didn’t take him long to find out it’s where you’ve been hiding from him and the world. Why didn’t he go there before? He used the spare key in the plant pot to get into the lobby, something he was used to in your earlier years, and walked up to your flat.

He knocked on the door a few times, but you didn’t respond. He got nervous, knocking more and calling your name through the postbox. You were still unconscious as he opened your door, walking through the flat and trying to find you. 

Then, he finally saw you in the middle of your living room floor, unresponsive. He panicked for a few seconds before checking for a pulse, breathing a huge sigh of relief when he found one. He carefully placed a hand on your back, the other under your knees, carrying you into your room. With the same tenderness, he placed you in your bed and tucked the duvet around you.

You woke up to the faint sound of sizzling, worried that you’d be the reason for the building burning down. You got up to investigate the origins of the sound, light-headed and dazed as to how you ended up in your bed. You didn’t remember much of yesterday’s events, until you saw John next to your stove.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Slept well?”

“Was fine.” you looked at him confused. Maybe you were concussed and he was just a hallucination.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” he grinned, walking over to check your temperature. Your heart fluttered when his warm hand pressed against your forehead. You shook your head rid of his hand and your feelings.

“Lucky for you, breakfast will be ready in a minute.” He flashed a smile and turned back to the stove. As you made your way to the table, you couldn’t help wondering if there was something you forgot from last night. You thought you’d made your anger toward him clear, so why was he in your house?

“Careful, you’ll shoot lasers into the table if you carry on staring like that.” John showed up in front of you, holding two plates of full English breakfasts. He noticed you rolling your eyes.

“What, you don’t like the food?”

You scoffed, “No, you know it’s my favourite. It’s just- why are you here, John?”

“You really think I would just forget the state I saw you in yesterday?”

“Uh, judging by the terms we left off on, yes.”

You started on the breakfast, eating like there was no tomorrow.

“You really haven’t been taking proper care of yourself, have you?”

“Define “proper care”.” you spoke through the food. You quickly glanced up to see John looking at you, his forehead wrinkled in concern.

“Look, I’m fine right now, aren’t I? Why are you so worried? Can’t you just leave me alone?” He chuckled quietly, which only sparked more anger in you. 

“What?” you retorted.

“That’s the last thing I told you.”

Your face softened, pinching the bridge of your nose and forcing the flashbacks to go away.

“Really, what’s wrong? What drove you to the cliff?”

“My car.” you scoffed, making him put down his knife and fork to look at you with more seriousness.

“Y/N.” he said sharply.

“It is in the note that you stole from me yesterday.”

“I didn’t read it. It made me sick to think about,” his voice cracked and he blinked furiously to stop himself from crying, “my mind was just set on making sure you were still alive.”

This whole time he’d been caring for your you the same way you cared for him. And you’d been denying his care the same way he denied yours. So you told him everything. You told him how the loneliness from not having any family left and losing the only friends you ever had got unbearable.

“But I never said I wanted you out of my life.”

“Then why didn’t you check on me sooner?”

“I told you, I needed time for myself. Everything just got to me after Freddie died, not to mention I was treating you like sh-”

“Woah, language. Didn’t expect that from you.” you gave a small laugh to ease the tone and he joined. You finally felt comfortable talking to him again.

“Y’know, time away from you gave me a lot to think about.”

“Like what?”

“I think you’re the one,” you dropped your knife and fork and looked at him in shock, “I mean, I’ve always known. Even the band did,” he grinned. 

You remember everyone being relieved after you finally got together, calling you the couple that’d never split. Even you believed it, up until that day.

“Freddie and Brian wouldn’t stop talking about fate. Roger, my word Roger, he always made fun of me. He’d ask when his turn was!” he chuckled, his face shortly turning serious. He leant over the table and rested his hands on yours. “And I’ll help you get through this. I promise, you can get through this, I’ll do my best to make sure you’re with me for as long as possible. I’ll get you a therapist. Until then-”

He got out of the chair and headed to your radio, looking through your CDs that haven’t been touched in more than a year while you sat there and felt like a child on Christmas. You didn’t realise how much you missed him rambling about things he was so passionate about. About how much he cared for you. He skipped through many songs on “The Game”, eventually landing on “Need Your Loving Tonight”, a song he wrote. 

You felt nostalgia rushing while he hopped around the living room floor, showing off his old Disco Deacy moves. He sang his way over to you, stretching out a hand. You took it and joined him on the floor.

“I said I’d never be angry with you.” you sang along, grinning as he gave you that Deacy smile that would never get old.

The two of you jumped around like mad and you couldn’t stop laughing. He would occasionally spin you or do some other cheesy, romantic moves while the song continued.

“Coz I love her, love her, love her, love her!”

His voice was croaky from the lack of singing over the years and he messed up the lines frequently, but he didn’t care. As long as what he needed to tell you reached you, he was happy. And it did. That euphoric feeling of home filled you to the brim, melting the remaining anger and hurt.

The song had ended but he kept repeating some lyrics. You started crying over how happy you felt, after you’ve beaten yourself up for so long.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get together.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, locking your arms around his neck, his hands held your hips as he pulled you into a long-awaited, warm kiss. 

“I’ll love you, Deacy, I’ll love you forever.” - Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! As always, criticism is welcomed.  Taglist & thank you for the kind messages:  @notthebackchat @deakyjohns @tini-monster @fatbottomedgorl @right-til-the-end @endlesslydead @marvellouspengwing @sweetdreamsaremadeofthis27 @heartsarecompatible @fredthelegend @cosmicsskies @deakysgirl

[acenettle]

Pillars Prompts Weekly prompt 0058: Birthday in the context of Deadfire

Features the Watcher, Edér, Bearn, Irrena and Engrim, with appearances by a number of other companions and sailors. Some background Aloth/Watcher shipping.

Rated T for mentions of suicide and of stuff blowing up.

Birthday Boy

Faith made kith do strange things.

Keeping the tenets of your faith even when you knew your god was a mere fabrication, for one. Going for a sea voyage and trying to end your own life in the middle of it, for another. Merely drinking in a cabin and fretting because there was nothing more you could do came a distant third.

Askildr squinted at Edér, who was staring at his tankard as if he might divine the future from the pattern of the foam.

"I just thought it would help, getting Elafa’s boy off that ship,” he muttered. “That he’d just need a couple of days to recover, and then he’d find some kind of normal to fall back to. But it’s been a fortnight, and I’m not seeing any improvement.”

Askildr shrugged. "He’s alive.”

"Yeah, but for how long? He’s barely eaten anything. I’d almost prefer his Hollowborn brother, at this point. At least with the Hollowborn, you knew where you stood.”

"It’s different,” Askildr said, "whether you believe something out of habit and tradition, or whether you believe because it’s your cause. So why, then, would it be the same when it all falls apart?"

Edér mulled her words over, but when he spoke he didn’t sound entirely convinced. "Yeah, I guess you’d know something about that. Me, I just know Elafa wouldn’t have wanted this for her kid.”

Askildr reached out to rest a hand on top of his, searching for the right words. She appreciated all he'd done for her, and felt his kindness had to be repaid, but he was not of the Land and saw things... differently.

She settled for the almost right. "He might still come around. And even if he doesn’t, perhaps in time another path will be made clear.”

Edér nodded and fell silent. She sat and kept him company.

Their reverie was broken by a knock on the cabin door. Before either of them could get up, the door swung open and Irrena poked her head in.

"Sorry to disturb you, casità, Edér, but with your permission Haema and I would like to throw a party.”

"Sure,” Askildr said, and gestured for the sailor to join them at the table. “Will you tell me what the occasion is?

Irrena leaned against the table conspiratorially. "Well, casità, rumour has it Eld Engrim is turning all of seventy tomorrow. Or at least, that’s the number he gives. And I have just the fruit pie recipe! Time to thank him for fixing my leg, ac?”

"I could use some pie, not gonna lie,” Edér mumbled. "And maybe another drink.”

"It would get everyone’s spirits up,” Askildr said. Irrena grinned and clapped her on the back.

"Agracima, casità! It is settled, then!”

And so it was. Next afternoon, the crew put together tables and hung extra lanterns on the deck, and as the sun began to set everyone not on watch duty gathered for as much of a feast as you could manage on aboard a sailing galleon miles from any land. It felt good, Askildr thought, to be in the midst of it all. This wasn’t Caed Nua, but it felt like a community – her community - all the same.

She took her seat at the main table next to Aloth, who gave her a knowing smile. The others sat as well - Edér on the other side of Aloth, Pallegina next to him, Serafen, Rekke, Tekēhu and Fassina on her other side, and their hired guide and  the sailors across the table, or at other tables further down the deck.

Only Bearn was missing. There were some things, it seemed, that simply could not be helped.

Eld Engrim observed the gathering and had to wipe his eyes. "Ye’ve all outdone yerselves,” he said, his voice thick. "Aye, Magran’s blessed me with so many trials I can hardly recall when there last was a feast just for me. Askildr, ye’re a fair captain, fair as the weather, and don’t ye ever let anyone tell ye otherwise.”

The sailors dug into the food; new barrels of rum and ale were opened, and several wine bottles uncorked. The pie was pleasantly moist, and the crust melted in the mouth. The fruit was delightfully sweet.

"This reminds me of home,” Pallegina said, and a rare smile graced her features. Irrena beamed.

"My old Grandma’s recipe, from Selona.”

"We used to have parties like this when I was a boy,” Edér said. "’Course, no one much felt like celebrating birthdays once the Hollowborn curse started. But before then, used to be the whole village would gather, any excuse they had. Heh, they knew how to celebrate.”

"Fye, ye call this a party?” Iselmyr interrupted, before Aloth managed to school his expression. "It may not be the Feast of Feasts,” he said in his own voice, “but under the circumstances it’s perfectly adequate.”

"Ekera, but it seems strange to lift someone on a pedestal just because they were born,” Tekēhu said, his expression thoughtful. "Certainly in a tribe, no one is more special than any other.”

"Postenago,” Fassina muttered. "I have seen plenty of birthday celebrations all over Neketaka’s streets. You should be no stranger to them.”

"I say, foreigners bring their customs with them, and some tribes are quicker to adopt them than others.”

"I thought they were all Kahanga now. Or are they only all Kahanga when it suits you?"

Tekēhu looked taken aback, either by Fassina’s words or her acrid tone. "Of course not, I merely meant –“

"Now now, let’s not allow this to get out of hand quite yet,” Serafen said, and downed the remainder of his mug of rum. Fassina looked away, chastised. "’Course, now that I be thinking on it," he added with a spark in his eyes, "the last time I saw yer cap at a party, she went and blew a man right off his boots. So maybe “out of hand” is just how she likes ‘em."

"He deserved it, though,” Edér said, and got a chorus of "ayes” and a few raised tankards from the gathered crew.

Askildr shrugged.

"It isn’t much of a party unless someone loses an eye.”

"An eye?” Rekke looked alarmed and put a hand over one of his.

"She doesn’t mean it literally,” Aloth said quickly, and then had to bite his lip. "It’s just a figure of speech. A saying.”

Rekke didn’t seem entirely reassured by that. "In Lipasalis -”

There was a creak from the door leading belowdecks. Edér looked over and froze; Rekke followed his gaze and abandoned whatever it was he had been about to say.

Bearn stood in the doorway, unkempt and unshaven, clothes hanging loosely from his thin frame.

"It was my birthday too,” he said quietly. "Two days ago.”

Eld Engrim grinned. "Well, there’s room enough at this table for two. Come and sit with us, birthday boy!”

Edér recovered quickly. He scooted closer to Aloth and patted the spot he’d vacated. "Here, I made room for you.”

Bearn hesitated. Then, with shoulders held stiff and eyes staring right ahead, he walked over and sat down next to Edér. Almost immediately, Irrena put a bowl in front of him, while Engrim handed the boy a tankard and waved at Haema, who came over and filled it with ale. Slowly, carefully, the boy took a small sip.

It was only because she was watching closely that Askildr noticed Edér letting out a sigh of relief.

A table over, Riggere pulled out a harmonica. As the first notes carried over the din of the diners, Engrim got up and offered Irrena his arm. "Care to test that leg of yers, fair maiden?"

Irrena laughed. "Just this once, old man,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

"A dance, I say!” Tekēhu’s eyes darted from Pallegina to Fassina before settling on Rekke. "Might I entertain you for a song or two?”

"Who? Me?” Rekke cast a quizzical glance at Askildr, but got up anyway.

As one pair after another moved away from the tables, Askildr turned to Aloth. "What do you think?”

"Everyone is watching,” he replied, keeping his voice down.

"It doesn’t look like that to me.” Most of the crew seemed preoccupied with food and conversation, or too busy trying not to trip over their own feet to pay them any heed.

"Still, I’d rather not draw attention to us.” His smile was almost apologetic, as if he didn’t quite believe she wasn’t expecting anything of him. "Not until I know what exactly to tell them, at least.” He nodded towards the dancers.  “I think you’d better ask someone else."

She squeezed his shoulder.

"As you wish. Pallegina?”

By the time she returned from a twirl on the dance floor, Bearn was sitting a little less stiffly, and while he’d not touched his bowl, his mug was almost empty. Edér had kept his place next to the boy, and was now turning his pipe over in his hands, deep in thought. Then, as if having reached some conclusion, he fished something from inside his shirt. Askildr recognised the glint of it - the Night Market amulet.

Edér clasped Bearn’s hand and dropped the amulet into his palm.

"Here. I don’t have much to give in the way of presents, but this… this has meant something to me. It’s about using your faith to kith, not just your god.”

The chain ran through Bearn’s fingers like golden sand. Then, just as the amulet itself was about to drop, Bearn’s hand twitched, catching the disc. Edér nodded.

"I hope it does you some good, as it has done me.”

Askildr smiled as she resumed her seat. Serafen cast her an inscrutable look.

"Well, ye be happy, cap,” he said, "and with everyone still in one piece.”

"Well, the party’s not over yet. More rum?”

"I’m always up for more rum, cap, as long as we be having more to spare."

"I wouldn’t worry about that. The gods could decide to finish us all off tomorrow, for all we know.”

Serafen raised his mug. "So let’s live a little, aye?”

“And wait to see if anything makes it worth it.”

This time, she received a raised eyebrow. “Ye be one strange lass, captain Watcher.”

She shrugged. "Faith makes kith do strange things.”

[marveloverthinker]

Shadowrun San Antonio: The Burrito Run

Angels wept as Ryan walked the soaked streets of San Antonio.

His eyes flicked to them as he strode, the odd statues that had been built during the Aztlan war, part protest, part memorial, part fortification. The older folks swore that, in times of need, the Angels would strike to defend their turf, or some rot like that. But for now, rain gathered in their wings and flowed down their faces, like tears from a forgotten time. The scene was only slightly ruined by street vendors who shouted, for all to hear, about how their tamales were better than anything you could get on the other side of town.

Ryan took a seat at one such cart, balancing precariously on the rickety stool as a Tejana Ork woman, her deaths mask exquisitely painted, swayed over to him to take his order. “The regular, gringo?”

He grinned. “Double, if you'd be so kind, Marta. I won't be alone for long.”

The eyes narrowed, crinkling the paint around her eyes. “You know I don't like you doing business here. This is a clean establishment.”

“So Pablo over there assures me,” Ryan said with a touch of sarcasm, giving a nod to a cat that sprawled just within the shelter of the cart's canopy, gorging itself on a freshly caught rat.

Marta tsked through her tusks, a sound Ryan found fascinating. “From the Sewers, of course. Pablo does well with vermin. Like you.”

“Peace, Senora. No haggling or rough talk, I promise. Just a little food before heading elsewhere.”

Marta considered this, then the E-pesos Ryan offered her, which she finally took. “Fine, but if your bendejo friend makes a move on my Maria like the last guy…”

Guys were always making moves on Maria. Her bright eyes and sweet laugh caught attention, her grace held it, and her goblinoid heritage had taken the latina tradition of curves to a whole new level of enticing. Ryan chuckled. “She can handle herself, Marta…”

“That will be Senora Diaz to you, and any bendejo you bring by here, so long as you are on the job. It's passed time you gave up running shadows, anyway. We mourn enough dead boys as it is.”

Ryan simply sighed and waited as Marta started rolling the burritos, smiling a bit as she stuffed a little extra into his. Brusque though she could be, she had always complained that he was too skinny, elf or no.

There was a scraping noise as the stool next to him was pulled up, and he glanced over with a bit of a grin as a Stetson was placed on the Countertop, still dripping rain. “Nash,” he said in greeting.

“Ryan,” came the reply, heavy with classic Texan drawl. “Sorry I'm late. Took forever to find a dry place to tie up Annie.”

“It happens,” Ryan answered. “I already ordered. Hope you like burritos. And if you don't, keep it to yourself, because Marta's in a special mood.”

“Mierda.” Marta swore as she approached. “You never said who was coming.”

“Miss me, Marta?” Nash drawled, knuckling his forehead. “It's been awhile.”

“I should kick you both out now,” Marta said as she put the plates in front of them. “Two elves at a Ork cart. People will talk, and it will make trouble. You two can just disappear, but Maria's a good girl, deep down, and…”

“And yet, people talk anyway. Easy, mama. Nash. Ryan.” Ryan turned on his stool to see Maria swaying towards them, her usual skirts traded for faux-leather jeans and and a subtly armored jacket. “Don't eat too much, now. You know it makes you sleepy.”

“Pura Mierda,” Marta retorted. “They're both of them too skinny. How they do what they do without any more meat is…”

“A trade secret, ma'am,” Nash said, putting his stetson on as he stood. “We'd better roll, don't you think?”

Ryan sighed, swallowed down a few bites of the burrito (they really were among the best in town, and that was saying something) and then stood with a resigned nod. The three turned as one and walked back into the rain, ignoring Marta's muttering as it faded into the noise of the droplets all around them.

They made quite a scene, the three of them. Maria, graceful as a flamenco dancer with just enough deadly to keep people from staring too long. Nash, his boots, belt buckle, duster and stetson making him look like something of the Tri-D, and Ryan himself, looking just like he had when he got off the train from Seattle, complete with piercings, tattoos, and hair that stayed spiked despite the best efforts of the rain.

As odd a group as any Ryan had ever run with, but after three years of successful(ish) running, practically family, including the overbearing, mildly abusive aunt.

“So what is it tonight?” Maria asked as they turned a corner. “Hovercar, refitted aerial drone, or are you finally gonna let me take Annie for a ride?”

“Never,” Nash said, simply, and then blinked as his eyes went out of focus. Ryan hated that. Most riggers closed their eyes, but this… even though it mattered not at all to how Nash worked, it sure looked creepy. “Annie's mine. Today we go old school.” Even as he spoke, a rickety old van pulled up alongside them, tires splashing water from the street in every direction. Ryan climbed right in, but Maria sighed.

“Just once,” she complained as she followed, “I'd like to go to a job with some style…”

——

The red and blue lights sparkled in the rain droplets that clung stubbornly to the van's rearview window. Maria snapped the gum in her mouth as she rolled down her window, flashing a smile at the Troll who shined a light into the van's interior. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”

The Troll frowned, and opened its mouth hesitantly. “Vehicle not… not authorized. Old plates. No… wireless? Identification.” The words were slow and plodded, even for a Troll. Not an English speaker then… a recent recruit, from the capitol by his accent. Maria grinned at him. “What? Oh, sweetie, I been driving this heap for years now. I'm sure it can't be a problem.”

“Problem…” the Troll retorted, likely in way of disagreement. He pulled up a retinal scanner. “Will need SIN, and…”

Suddenly the lights on the patrol car went dark, and the sudden change gave the brief appearance of near perfect blackness inside the van before normal eyes could recover. The Troll barely had a moment to look to his vehicle before he froze at the sensation of a shotgun stuck in his back.

“You're new, huh? Well here's the deal, tusky…”

“Watch your mouth…” Maria called from the passenger seat, but Ryan refused to be distracted. “You can live a good long life in your line of work, or in this town, but never both, you got me? Or should I have the girl inside translate for you?”

The Troll glanced back to the van, where Maria had an SMG aimed up into his nostril. “I'll make sure he does.” She said sweetly, before a stream of Spanish talked the Troll gently through the process of climbing into the back of the Van with his hands behind his back.

Seeing she had the situation under control, Ryan rushed over to the squad car, where Nash was sitting, apparently all blank, in the front seat. “Any response?”

“His personal comms are run through the car. Our Sergeant… Martinez… has just reported some drugged out hippies, and run their data. They'll report back SINless and he'll be ordered to bring them in.”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes. The bottleneck on the info line to the computers at the Capitol makes their response time trash out here. You'd almost think Aztlan wasn't planning on staying.”

“I wish,” Ryan muttered, receiving an answering nod from Nash as he went to collect Maria. Ten minutes bought them time, widened the window a fraction. Popping open the van's rear doors, he awkwardly started changing into an Aztlan military uniform. —-

“Ten seconds and counting.”

Ryan rushed down the hallway, ignoring the shouts coming from behind him, all of them in the clipped Spanish of the Aztlani Capitol. The occupation government sent in more of them every day, it seemed, and yet San Antonio remained beautifully, gloriously, Tejano. Remembering the cultural mongrel that was the Seattle Metroplex, Ryan could only count that a victory, so long as he could keep breathing.

“Five seconds.” his earpiece chirped. Ryan grimaced. He didn't need the countdown, but wasted no breath informing Maria of that. No word from Nash, either, but Ryan didn't let that bother him. The car was either there, or not. Outside, he heard the squeal of tires on wet pavement, and grinned.

The doors burst open as Ryan hurled himself through them, gun already out and firing at the Van that tore away from the building. “Vamanos!” He shouted at the gate guards, who were staring at both him and the van, startled. “Saboteador!” From one of the windows of the van, a startled troll looked at him, then roared, firing with a sidearm. Ryan winced as one shot ricocheted dangerously near to him, then dove to a nearby military car, which picked him up and took of after the van, in hot pursuit.

Nash sat at the wheel, staring blankly ahead as Maria grinned at him from her hiding place in the back. Her lips mouthed the words, “dos… uno…”

And an explosion ripped the checkpoint apart behind them.

The radio burst to life, howling for all units to pursue the saboteur. Ryan took some shots from his open window, causing the Troll to duck his head again.

“Can I look, yet?” Maria asked from the backseat. Ryan growled.

“We've still got our friends all around us. Nash, how long?”

“Now. Hold on, Maria.”

The squib went off, and the car spun out as the other pursuit vehicles carefully wheeled around it, not even bothering to look back as they traded shots with the enraged Troll in the backseat. Ryan took a moment before moving… with the explosion, response to a single blown car would be slow.

Maria finally looked up and laughed at the pillar of fire and smoke that now rose in a bright pillar over southern San Antonio. Already, the Aztlan military was arriving, being informed of the situation by the cars now in high speed pursuit. Suddenly Nash blinked, then glanced over at him. They all got out of the car as one, easing their way down into the floodway that would lead them all the way back to the barrio.

“How'd it go inside?” Nash asked. Ryan just smiled, then held up the heavy cartridge. It would be a payday, after all. —-

The talking head blinked through the rain that fell through her tri-d image as she gave the report, her lips oddly out of sync due to the automated translation.

“Aztlani authorities have blamed the explosion on faulty gas lines running through the city, while local utilities workers have claimed no knowledge of any such faults. Investigations go apace, but given the usual reticence of the Occupation force to give details on such issues, it is possible that…”

Marta brought over three plates of tacos to place on the counter. “I heard two cops say that it was sabotage. Some rogue Troll, based on the reports over the band.”

Maria shrugged, taking one of the tacos and eating it voraciously. Nash shrugged as he shot his tequila back. “I heard that the troll was a captured occupation soldier himself, claims to have been kidnapped by an elf and a ork.”

“I've heard…” Ryan said, mouth full of taco, “that one of the cars in pursuit got taken out in the chase. The car was found, but with no sign of the two elves inside it. They might be insiders, but no one knows. All in car video feeds looped old footage… of the troll.”

“You are all too clever by half…” Marta said through her glower. “Eventually, those imbecil will learn who has been jerking them around, and when they do…”

Ryan sighed, and keyed up a credstick, which he slotted at the counter. The tip indicator gave a little ring, and Marta gasped as quite a lot of e-pesos flooded into her account.

“For the service, senora,” Ryan said as he took his leave. “Hasta la vista.”

[adapted-batteries]

No Rest for the Ex-Thief

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General/sfw

Relationship: Jazekiel

Word Count: 1984

Ezekiel attempts to head home for the night after an exhausting day, but Stone’s got something he wants to talk about first.

Set a little after “And the Christmas Thief.”

Also posted on my Ao3.

-----

After the impromptu Christmas/Welcome Back party for Eve, Flynn, and Jenkins, Ezekiel was ready to fall face first in his bed and sleep for the next week. Of course, a certain cowboy wasn't going to let him have his well deserved rest.

He knew Stone had followed him. Ezekiel had ducked out of the party before the eye contact could grow into something more than a quick glance, but he didn't bother acknowledging it, hoping he could actually sneak out and avoid whatever Stone clearly wanted to say. He enjoyed the growing silence as the Christmas music from Jenkins’s records faded the farther they walked, replaced with the surprisingly matched, rhythmic footfalls from both of them.

Stone apparently couldn't hold in his question any longer once they got to the main room in the Annex. “Jones...can I talk to you for a bit?”

Ezekiel slowly turned around, hoping Stone would see how tired he was and would drop it. Either Stone couldn't tell he was exhausted, or was ignoring it; he gently, but firmly, grabbed Ezekiel’s arm before he could back up far enough out of Stone's reach.

“Ezekiel, please, it won’t be long.”

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow at his first name. No one but Cassandra ever called him by it unless it was serious. “Okay, but make it quick. I've had a hell of a day.”

Stone snorted, smiling a little before going serious again. “I’m...sorry about earlier, with the whole chasing you around and stuff. It was, uh, well, I certainly didn't expect you to be on your knees begging.”

He may have been tired, but Ezekiel couldn’t resist poking a little fun at him. “Bet you enjoyed that sight, cowboy,” Ezekiel smirked.

Momentarily stunned, Stone’s mouth attempted to form some words, but never made it to saying them. Ezekiel decided to give him a moment to recover. “It won't happen again, the whole bringing people in the Library who can steal things. I learned my lesson.”

“What I was going to say was I'm apologizing because if I had done something stupid, I’d want to keep it hidden from Baird and them too. It's unfair of me to act like I would be all upfront and truthful about it,” Stone clarified, looking anywhere but at Ezekiel until he finished his statement.

Ezekiel blinked, not sure how to respond to the sincerity. “Uh, thanks, apology accepted?” With all the bearing of his desperation to Cassandra and Stone, and his past to his mom, his brain decided he didn't need to think before he spoke. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing for dragging you guys into my mess,” Ezekiel started, mimicking Stone's lack of eye contact, “and probably for the spontaneous kiss of gratefulness that I about gave you, which you clearly weren't in to.”

Stone, once again mildly shocked, attempted to say something; it took a few tries, but he got there. “Well I mean, I was concerned and confused because you were acting really weird, and you coming at me, well I was shoving you away before I realized, and then-" He shut his mouth like he had said too much already, but before Ezekiel could even think of a response, Stone continued, “not that I'm-I don't care who you like an’ all, it just...uh...startled me.”

Ezekiel laughed, more at himself than at Stone, as he leaned against a desk. “Not how I intended to come out.”

“Thanks for trusting me with this,” Stone said, sitting on the edge of the desk.

“It’s not like it’s a secret,” Ezekiel retorted a bit more aggressively than he intended. Ezekiel was having a bit of a hard time managing Stone’s raw caring, so he intently stared at his clasped, fidgeting hands in front of him. “I mean, before I came to the Library, I didn’t bother hiding. Thieves don’t really care about stuff like that. I didn’t mean to hide it here, but I dunno, it never came up, so I never said anything.” He looked up to see Stone watching him like he was afraid of doing something to make Ezekiel bolt.

Suddenly Stone being a few feet away from him was too close. Ezekiel stood up slowly, careful to not startle Stone into grabbing his arm again. He relieved his sudden need to move by pacing in front of the desk, hoping he wouldn’t let anything slip about why he hadn’t actually said anything. It wasn’t like he could tell Stone that he had a crush on him, and after the whole Cassandra and Estrella thing, he hoped something could happen.

He realized he spent the last thirty seconds silently pacing, so he stopped and turned to Stone. That concerned look from earlier, which Ezekiel last saw when he was on his knees begging, was creeping back onto the cowboy’s face. “It’s not that I don’t trust you guys. I guess, I didn’t want to deal with...a bad reaction.” Ezekiel kicked himself for hesitating, because he knew Stone saw right through it, though what Stone saw he didn't know.

Stone shook his head. “You know we wouldn’t, especially Cassandra. What’s the real reason?” Ezekiel wanted to explain, give in to his feelings, but his throat strongly protested forming any words related to it. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want, I get it, it’s personal. But I’m always here for you, know that,” Stone continued. “I know it might not be a big deal to you, but hiding yourself isn’t healthy...I should know.”

Ezekiel froze, confused look on his face clear as day. Hope welled in his chest, but he shoved it back down. “At least we can appreciate your brains more than your dad ever would,” Ezekiel said, hoping Stone would confirm that’s what he was talking about so Ezekiel’s heart could chill out.

Maybe Ezekiel had too much of Jenkins’s eggnog, but he could've sworn Stone deflated a little like Ezekiel missed something. Fortunately for Ezekiel, Stone wasn’t going to leave him wondering. “I wasn’t talking about my talent.”

“Oh,” was all Ezekiel could manage. Any exhaustion was now flushed out of his veins; he sat on the edge of the desk, mirroring Stone, to prevent his knees from wobbling from the hope rushing in full force.

Stone bit his lip, breathing deep before explaining. “I didn’t tell anyone for a long time. Growing up in Oklahoma, I thought I was broken...wrong. Pop sure couldn't find out I liked boys too, I’d be deader than dead. So I kept it hidden, played my part, stayed safe. But you know what happened?” Stone waited for Ezekiel to shake his head. “Someone decided to trust me with their secret. When Slaten came out to me, I realized I didn’t have to be so scared, I had someone who trusted me with something I was afraid of even admitting to myself.”

Realization flooded Ezekiel’s head as he remembered his interactions with Slaten. The looks, the concern, the care, it all made so much sense. Apparently Stone realized Ezekiel was having an epiphany; he smiled at him, chuckling a little before continuing. “We had a thing, for awhile, but Slaten wasn’t comfortable with me continuing to isolate myself by not leaving, especially as he watched me waste my extraordinary talent by being an oil rigger.”

Ezekiel whistled. “No wonder you were so grouchy about not having connections outside the Library. He’s a good dude,” Ezekiel found himself saying, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit sad Stone had feelings for another man.

“That he is,” Stone exhaled. “I can’t say I’m willing to give this life up, but I know it’d make him damn proud to know what I’m doing.” Stone stood up, apparently ready to head back to the Christmas party.

“I’m proud of you,” Ezekiel blurted. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to get Stone to stay or if he was immensely glad Stone just trusted him with something only one other person apparently knew. Either way, it got Stone to stop in his tracks and look at Ezekiel. “It’s not like I can give you shit for having a comfy facade. I know how hard it is to finally feel safe enough to let it go completely.” Ezekiel stood up, sudden rush of bravery fueling him. “And, I know what it’s like to want something you can’t have.”

Stone raised his eyebrows, gears clearly turning in his head. “Do ya now? And what makes you think you can’t have him?” Stone asked, voice getting tauntingly husky as he talked. Ezekiel’s eyes went wide, jaw a bit slack in shock. Stone couldn’t help but snicker at him. “If there’s anything you should take away from our talk, is that sometimes a little step in faith goes a long way.”

Cocky Ezekiel finally decided to return. “To be fair, it would’ve been a lot easier if you hadn’t shoved me away. You can’t go giving mixed signals like that, mate.” Stone looked genuinely abashed for a moment, but Ezekiel didn’t let him suffer long. “Hmm, how convenient Cassandra made you put that mistletoe up above the door...maybe you could redeem your mistake.”

Stone held his hand out to Ezekiel. “Gladly, if you’ll let me.”

Ezekiel waited a moment before grabbing his hand, trying to hide just how eager he was. “Oh, definitely,” Ezekiel said as Stone led him to the doorway, a bit breathier than he intended. Stone didn’t seem to mind at all as he cupped Ezekiel’s face with his hands, looking at the ex-thief so fondly it was making Ezekiel want to melt onto the floor; it was enough to get Ezekiel to close the small distance between them before Stone could actually kiss him.

After a few moments Stone pulled away slightly. “Hey, I was supposed to be kissin’ you.”

“Heh, sorry, got a bit, carried away,” Ezekiel said, slightly out of breath because he’d forgotten to breathe. “But, uh, you can do that now.”

Stone gave an amused huff mixed with what Ezekiel thought sounded almost like a growl, then kissed him.

Ezekiel wasn’t exactly sure how long they spent doing that, but it was long enough to have Stone press him against the door frame by the time Flynn cleared his throat down the hall, making them both jump. Stone backed off of him a bit, but was still quite close, nothing like his reaction to the attempted grateful kiss earlier.

“I, uh, told Eve you two were fine, but she made me go check anyway and…” Flynn rambled, face turning a bit red.

“It’s fine, Flynn,” Stone said, reaching out for Ezekiel’s hand. “We were just heading back.” He glanced at Ezekiel, waiting for a response.

Ezekiel thought for a moment before taking Stone’s hand, wondering maybe if he stayed a bit longer, he could get a certain cowboy to come home with him. The train of thought quickly went to some areas that made Ezekiel blush without realizing it, earning a knowing grin from Stone.

“Sure you were,” Flynn retorted, glancing at their hands. “I mean, heh, um, uh, coming, Eve!” The Librarian quickly turned on his heels and sped back into the Library as if he’d been called, though there definitely had been no call.

Ezekiel started walking after him, but Stone stayed put, yanking him back slightly. “You okay with this? I know it’s a lot, even with people you trust,” Stone said.

“What? I’m definitely okay with this. I’m sooo okay with his you wouldn’t believe,” Ezekiel replied, internally kicking himself when he heard how giddy he was. He felt a little better when Stone chuckled and squeezed his hand.

“Alright. Let’s go make everyone’s night, then.”

They certainly made everyone’s night, but especially Cassandra, who conspicuously received ten dollars from a slightly disappointed, but happy nonetheless Jenkins.

-----

Post Notes: I have no clue why season 4 is providing so much fodder for ships and backstory like this...but I’m not gonna question it one bit. And or course Slaten is mentioned, I mean he knew about Stone's brain...there had to be something there, one sided or reciprocated.

Stone’s history of hiding in Oklahoma is sort of fueled by my experience. Growing up in the Bible Belt, being anything other than cishet is a scary, confusing thing. I thought I was messed up for a long while, then finally came to terms with myself when I found a term that actually fit who I was, and I felt a lot better when I finally came out as non-binary to my best friend. Seriously, if you can safely share who you are, it’s like a weight off your shoulders.

[kriscme]

One Life to Live

Hi, here’s the latest chapter.   Almost at the end.  This is also on A03 and will be easier to read.    I’m Kris22 over there.  I’d link if I knew how.  As always thanks for Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take”.  You can read it on AO3 and FanFiction. Chapter 36 “. . . and so Blake’s wedding was called off.   And in the meantime, Celia’s been attending a therapy support group for sex addiction.  They think it’s caused by a fear of emotional intimacy or something like that.   I guess it’s because she’s been hurt.  You know, by Blake.  And that’s all I know.  I haven’t watched it in a while.” “And who’s that guy?” Peeta asks.  He’s referring to a man in overalls and a straw hat crouched in a field of what looks like withered lettuces.  He appears to be examining the soil.   “That’s Celia’s father, Mulch Chastely.” The camera zooms in and ominous music builds.  His hands are stained with a black, greasy substance.  “Oil!” he screams, as the music reaches a crescendo. He shakes his fist at the heavens. “The Knights will pay for this barbarous act!  You’re a dead man, Rigger Knight!”   Then it segues to Rigger Knight who is seated on the porch of the Knight family home as if in wait.   Across his lap is a firearm.  It looks like a bazooka. The scene ends with Mulch Chastely selecting a pitchfork from his arsenal of agricultural tools and marching with grim determination in the direction of the Knight property.   Peeta bursts out laughing.  I can’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it either. “I told you it was stupid,” I say.

Next, we’re in a large room, mostly empty except for a circle of nine chairs spaced at regular intervals.   People start to trickle in and each of them takes a seat.  Celia is among them, wearing denim trousers and a blue sweater, her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.  She looks tired and dejected.  Last to arrive is a gaudily dressed middle-aged woman with bright yellow hair carrying a clipboard.  She’s accompanied by a younger man in expensive sports clothes.   When he sees Celia an expression of deep longing passes over his face.  Celia doesn’t look up. The woman with the yellow hair starts the discussion.  “Good afternoon, everyone.  We’re in for a big, big session!  We have new a member joining us.  I know you’ll make him welcome.  Blake, would you please introduce yourself and share with the group what’s brought you here today.”  

Celia starts at the name and her eyes widen with shock.  As Blake speaks, his gaze never leaves her face.

“My name is Blake Knight and I am an addict.  My addiction is Celia Chastley.  I was a goner from the moment I first laid eyes on her in her family’s orchard when were eleven years old.  She became my best friend, my confidant, the object of my adolescent masturbatory fantasies and my great love.  I didn’t understand you then, Celia, when you broke my heart when we were sixteen.  That you were sacrificing your happiness for mine.  That you recognized the impossibility of our situation when I did not. I shut my eyes and tried to forget you in the arms of another but I was deceiving myself.  I was a coward – too afraid to confront the reality of my undying love for you.  Please forgive me.  Give me a chance and I will prove my constancy and devotion.  To hell with our families. To hell with everything.  Our love is the only thing that matters in this crazy world.  Even now, as my father waits for yours to fall into his trap so he can shoot him dead and plead self-defense, our love will endure.  Will you, Celia?  Please say yes.  I love you so much.” The other members of the group are transfixed, eyes darting between Celia and Blake in mounting expectation.  Celia’s eyes are awash with tears.  She lurches to her feet and throws herself into his arms. “Oh, Blake!” she cries, “If I have only one life to live, I want it to be with you.”  They kiss.  The group stands and cheers.   It then goes to a commercial break for romantic getaways in District 4.  I look at Peeta.  He looks at me.  It’s as if we’re each looking to the other for how to react.  It was funny.  So why aren’t we laughing?  Plutarch’s words ring heavily in my ears, “You and Peeta are Celia and Blake.” “We’re really not like that, are we? “I ask.  “I mean it’s so . . . dumb.”   “No, not quite us, but there are a few things in common.  What Blake said to Celia is pretty much what I’ve been trying to say to you.” “Oh.” I say nonplussed.  Is that what he’s been doing?  “Um . . . which parts?” Peeta shifts closer to me on the sofa so that our thighs are touching.  “Adolescent masturbatory fantasies.” I pull back, frowning, hot words ready on my lips.  

He nudges my shoulder with his.  “It’s a joke.  Well, actually not quite a joke.  You did feature in them quite a lot.  But I was Blake.  Going around with my eyes shut, too scared to open them in case I remembered how much I love you and then to find out that you didn’t love me back.” “You love me?”  I don’t dare look at him. It’s been an impossibility for such a long time, I can scarcely believe it.  He was engaged to marry another woman not so very long ago.  How can this have happened so quickly?  “Since when?” I ask dubiously. If he was expecting a more positive reaction, he doesn’t show it.  He takes one of my hands in both of his. “Since I was five years old and you stood up in music assembly to sing the valley song.” I attempt to pull my hand back but he keeps it in a firm grip.  He can’t just whitewash the past two years like that.  Lace happened.  “Then what has Lace been about then?  She was just a figment of my imagination?” “No.  She was more like a figment of my imagination.  I don’t want to discount what I had with her.  She’s been a good friend and I’ll always be grateful but a lot of what I felt for her wasn’t real.    I’ve gone over this with Dr Aurelius, to make sense of it.   She was a coping mechanism in the same way my reluctance to deal with my past was also a coping mechanism.  I could give her the feelings I didn’t think you wanted.   So, she was sort of you, in a way.  I didn’t exactly have a high opinion of myself then either and she didn’t hold back on telling me how wonderful she thought I was.  I think I just wanted to make myself feel better.”

Sort of like a rebound then.  I want to believe him, I really do.  He’s turned to sit sideways, our knees touching, his face close to mine.  I look at him beneath my lashes.  He’s watching me carefully, with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.  Everything that I’m feeling. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says. Be honest. “I’m scared.  What if what you’re feeling now isn’t real either?’ “I’m scared too.  Scared you’ll reject me and there’ll never be another chance. Katniss, I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” I turn away momentarily to collect my thoughts. As I do, the television screen comes into my field of vision.  Rigger Knight fires the bazooka at Mulch Chastely.  It misses his head by inches and zooms past to hit one of the oil rigs in the distance.  It explodes into flames and sets off a chain reaction until every one of the oil rigs is a massive ball of fire and thick black smoke.  Mulch’s face is a picture of glee until the billowing smoke is picked up by the wind and headed over the border towards his prized apple orchard.  The drama hasn’t ended for Celia and Blake.  And I know it hasn’t for Peeta and me either.  We still have things to work through.  And there’s also the television special and whatever fallout there might be.  But at least we can do it together.  

I let out a breath.   “Okay.” “Is that yes?” “Yes,” I answer, more firmly this time.  We both lean in and meet somewhere in the middle. A slow, getting-to-know-you-all-over-again kiss.  Soft, tender, shy.   This is real.   Not a daydream, not the reliving of a cherished memory, but real.  In between kisses he tells me he loves me.  And when I get the chance, I tell him I love him too.  Somehow, I end up lying on the couch with him half on top of me. The kisses have long ceased to satisfy either of us.  My t-shirt and bra are hitched around my neck, the nipples wet from where he’s sucked on them, and there’s something iron-hard pressing into my lower belly. “I think we should have an early night,” he murmurs into my ear. “I think you’re right.”  Our first time together should definitely not be on the couch. The television is still blaring and I grapple for the remote to turn it off but not before catching a glimpse of Celia and Blake writhing like eels on a bed with red satin sheets.   We make our way upstairs and down the hall without touching but immediately upon entering the bedroom we fall on each other and start peeling off each other’s clothes.  There’s a struggle pulling off my slim-fitting trousers and he grumbles that I shouldn’t have changed out of my dress.  I fall backwards onto the bed and then, with a final tug, my trousers with underwear still inside them, are sent flying.  I close my eyes and put out my arms hungry to feel his warmth and weight along the full length of my body.  But instead, my foot is lifted high into the air and kisses trailed down my leg until he gets to the juncture of my thighs.  The first brush of his tongue is a jolt of electricity, the final one a lightning bolt.  “Oh,” I say, when I eventually come down.  I hold out my arms and he’s inside me, filling a space so completely, so perfectly, I didn’t know there had been a void until now.   Nothing has ever felt so right.  When we fall, it’s within seconds of each other.  We share a slow, lazy kiss before he rolls onto his back and I nestle into the cradle of his arms.  My head rests against his chest, the strong and steady beat of his heart in my ear, and it feels like home. I wake before he does.  He’s on his back, his face relaxed in sleep.   I rise up on one elbow to watch him. The long lashes resting against his cheeks, the curve of his lips.   It seems such a miracle that he’s here, in my bed, and that he loves me.  I was convinced he was lost to me forever.  That by this time, he’d be in his own bed, in his own house, with Lace beside him as his wife.  And I would be . . .   Well, I don’t know where I’d be.  I don’t think I could have stood living across from them for very long.  So probably searching for someplace else to live like I once planned to.  Certainly not having dinners with them, or having Lace drop by for neighborly chats.   I still don’t really know why the wedding was called off.  That they both lied is the only explanation I’ve been given. Lied about what?  I should ask him.  And other questions I have too.  

I put out my hand to brush a lock of hair back from his forehead and it’s seized and brought to his lips.  “How long have you been awake?”   “Not long.  I didn’t want to interrupt. Do I pass?” “With flying colors,” I say, and lean down to give him a kiss.  His arms go around me and I’m rolled onto my back.   The kiss goes on for a long time.  

“We should start getting ready for work,” I say, although I make no effort to get up. “Not yet,” he says.   And he says it again when we take a shower together.   There’s no sign of Haymitch at breakfast.   Probably slept in after the excitement of last night’s episode of “One Life to Live.”   But we figure that now that we’re genuinely in love, no one needs to tell us how to act.  So, we walk into town together as we’re inclined to do anyway, and then meet for lunch again at the park near the school as it’s conveniently situated for both of us.   Haymitch is nowhere to be seen at dinnertime either.  We delay eating for half an hour in case he turns up but after checking first to see if he’s home – the lights at his house are on – we conclude that he’s decided to leave us alone from now on, and start eating.  And delicious it is too.  Roast pork with crackling to die for.  I guess I’m just a carnivore at heart.   Following dinner, we sit down to watch some television.  One channel is covering the mayoral elections in 7.  Johanna is well ahead in the count and early predictions are that she’ll win by a landslide.  Then Peeta flicks between cooking shows.  I don’t care what we watch.  I lie back on the sofa with my head on the armrest and my feet in Peeta’s lap.   I love having my feet and calves rubbed so much, I think it’s almost as good as sex.   Later, in bed, I decide that it’s not even close.  I am blissed-out, and still tingling from our love-making.  I stretch voluptuously, like a cat, bury my face into his neck and sigh, perfectly content.   His free hand plays with my hair, gently combing out the tangles.   If I could freeze the moment, I would.  So, I guess it makes it an odd time to ask the questions I want answers to.  But on the other hand, maybe there’ll never be a better.

“Peeta, can I ask you some things?” “Sure.” “Why did you and Lace break up?  Was it because she lied about her background?” His hand stills for a moment before going back to my hair.  “No, it wasn’t that.  I mean, I was disappointed she hadn’t told me herself and angry that everyone seemed to know before I did, but it’s not what broke us up.  You remember when I said that what I felt for Lace wasn’t real?” I nod against his chest.  “I’d been having doubts for a while – almost soon after we got engaged actually – but after that night I couldn’t ignore it any longer.  It was seeing you with Marcus that did it.  It wasn’t the first time I’d been jealous.  I was jealous over Max, even Arthur, but I’d put it down to being possessive over a friend.  But Marcus – it was Gale all over again.  He was so obviously in to you and you seemed to like him too.   And he loved nature, as you do, and you went into the woods together, and he had both his legs and wasn’t a mental nutcase. And then to see you walk away with him, with his arm around you, upset over something I had done, when I’m the one who should protect you . . .    

“As for Lace, I’d almost forgotten she was there.  And when I did get around to remembering, she was sobbing her heart out to Arthur.  She’d seemed to have forgotten about me too.”  There’s another pause and a snort of irritation.  “And that Max! “ “What about Max?” I ask warily.  

“It was like he was selling tickets to a sideshow.  Shrugging his shoulders and gesturing to anyone watching.  I don’t know how you tolerate him.” “It has it’s challenges,” I say carefully.   “But he does have his good points. They’re just not immediately apparent.” And isn’t that the truth.  I recall our first encounters and how much he annoyed me.  Still does.

I think I’m starting to get an understanding of Peeta’s relationship with Lace having gone through something similar with Marcus.   Desperately in need of affirmation. To feel worthy of love and acceptance. And something, anything, to dull the pain of rejection – either real or imagined – in the arms of another. At least I can take comfort in that there were no hurt feelings when it ended for Marcus and me. “What about Lace?” I ask.  “How did she take it?” Peeta gives a short laugh.  “She was as relieved to be out of it as I was.  While I’d been projecting an image on to her, she’d been doing the same to me.  In her case, the celebrity she’d seen and fallen in love with on television.  And then she said she realized that she had feelings for Arthur.  I doubt she’d admit it, but I think Johanna’s flirting that night had a lot to do with it.” I smile to myself imagining Johanna’s satisfaction that her scheme had worked.  She’s pretty people-smart, when you think on it.  A useful attribute for a politician to have. “But you didn’t break up straight away.”   Peeta was still wearing the ring Lace had given him the day he called around to apologise for yelling at me and to give me cookies.   “That’s because neither of us wanted to be the first to tell the other they’d made a mistake.  But once it was said, it all came tumbling out.  Whatever we once had was gone except maybe friendship and a few superficial things we had in common.  A marriage wouldn’t have lasted long.”

Another thing that Johanna had got right.  Trying too hard, she called it.  It makes sense in retrospect.  As doubts surfaced, so would efforts to alleviate it in the form of frequent and overt shows of affection and more money thrown at the wedding, as if a lavish display of either could cover the deepening cracks.  One thing puzzles me, though. “Why were you so upset when it ended, then? Johanna told me about the flashbacks.” “I was upset over a lot of things.   All that money wasted, feeling like a fool for letting it get that far, but mostly I was upset over you.   I thought I had ruined any chance I might have had.  And I had no one to blame but myself.” I feel a stirring of guilt. There was someone else to blame.  And that was me.  I ran hot and cold, giving mixed messages of my own.  I could have been more open with him.  Risked rejection, see where it led.  Because I couldn’t really be certain of anything until I did.  And I was the one who put it into his head that Lace was his girlfriend.  And that he should marry her. I open my mouth to contradict him but Peeta starts speaking again.  “You and Marcus were so cozy that night at the pub, holding hands on the way into town and then making plans for a weekend in the woods together.  I just couldn’t get it out of my head, imagining what the two of you were up to.  That’s what triggered the attacks.  It was jealousy, pure and simple.  The same emotion the Capitol worked on to get me to hate you.  And after they were brought under control, there was still despair and self-loathing to contend with.  How could I have been so blind and stupid?” “I – “

“And then having to watch those tapes.  I didn’t want to.  I knew the “to be watched with Katniss” label could only have meant two things.  It was either confirmation that you’d never loved me, or confirmation that you had, which actually would have been worse, since I’d messed things up so spectacularly.” My mind goes back to that day.  Peeta at the door, looking harried and nervous.  That speech about us trying for friendship. It’s obvious to me now that he made it because he thought that’s what I wanted.  His careful examination of any nuances that would give at least some hope that he was wrong.   “I’m so sorry,” I say.  “I’ve messed up too.   You’ve no idea.   I don’t know why you just didn’t leave me to my fate after seeing that video of Marcus and me.  I wouldn’t have blamed you.  Wanted you to, actually.  Weren’t you . . . you know, disgusted?” He pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head.  “No.  Why should I be, after what I’ve done?” My body stiffens at the implication.  That’s right. He’s been in the same situation, only he was lucky enough not to be caught.  He’s talking about what he got up to with Lace.  The Mayor’s party.  When he fucked Miss Facelicker up against a wall.  Hot jealousy surges through my veins and it takes all my self-control to squash it down.  It’s hardly reasonable is it, for me to feel this way?  Not when I practically did the same thing. “Weren’t you even jealous?” I ask.  That would make me feel a little better if he had. “Katniss, all that concerned me was that you were in trouble and how I could help.” His arms tighten around me.  “I want to protect you, keep you safe. And in some way, begin to make up for the poor job I’ve done of it lately.  I just wanted you back.  There was simply no room for a petty emotion like jealousy.” Instantly, I’m ashamed of myself.  Peeta has always been better than all of us. “You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him.”  They were Haymitch’s words, and so true. “Besides,” says Peeta, “You didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself.  And who would?  Being pounded into against a hard surface like that.” Not jealous, huh?  So that’s what he was doing when he kept watching that tape over and over.  He was actually studying my facial expressions and taking comfort that I didn’t seem to be having a good time.   As if Lace would have enjoyed being whisked into a dark corner on an important night of her life to have her new gown pushed up around her waist and thrust repeatedly into against a hard wall.  But I say nothing.  At some point you do have to put aside the negativity and move forward or you might as well give it up right now.  

But one more question.  I’ll always wonder about it if I don’t ask.   “Would it have made any difference if I’d told you how I feel about you?  You know, when you were going out with Lace?  Or before?” There’s a long silence.  I wait nervously for the answer.  Please say it wouldn’t.  Please say it wouldn’t. “It might have.   I don’t know.  I guess it would have depended on the timing.  My mind was so stuck on the impossibility of you loving me, that I might not have heard it.  Or not believed it if I had.  But it could have changed the trajectory and ended my relationship with Lace sooner.”

Haymitch kept nagging me to.  I should have listened to him. Taken that risk and kept on trying until Peeta understood.  But then, how could I have known?   And when would have been the right moment?  Sometime before the marriage proposal, it seems.  But not before he’d slept with her and banned me from using his guest room at night.  And wasn’t it these two things that had crossed a line for me? There was no going back for us after that.  It had changed our relationship irrevocably and we had to come back as two different people.  That’s what Arthur said about Celia and Blake.  And there was something Max had said too.   That if they did get back together, they’d need to bring the same level of experience to it.  Celia had to, at least, try another relationship, otherwise Blake would always be the one who’d broken faith and she’d be the one who hadn’t spread her wings while she had the chance.  Marcus had to happen.  I can’t regret that.  Not only because it would betray what we had, but because I would always wonder what it’s like to be with someone not Peeta, when he’s been with someone not me, and possibly resented him for it. “I did tell you this one time.  That I love you, I mean.  It was when you started to get serious about Lace. We were sitting on your back porch and we got to talking about her.  I kept coming up with reasons for why you should be careful of her but what I really wanted was for you to stop seeing her and to notice me. And then I decided to just come straight out and tell you how I felt.  But you misunderstood my meaning and said I was like your family and what you needed from me was to accept her.  That’s why I never said it again.  It hurt so much to hear it the first time, that I didn’t want to risk hearing it again when there was no sign that you’d changed your mind.  But I should have.  Kept trying.  Maybe – “ Peeta doesn’t let me finish. “And maybe I should have faced my demons instead of running from them.  And maybe I should have asked about the blanks in my memories instead of filling the spaces with what I thought I knew.  And maybe I should have told you of my feelings for you once I became aware of them.  And maybe I should have ended my relationship with Lace when I started having doubts.  I think if we added up all the ‘maybes’ they’d be mostly on my side.  I don’t blame you for any of what happened.  It all started with me.” I shake my head.  “That’s not true.  It started with Snow.  That’s where the real blame lies.”  We lapse into silence for a few moments.   “I wish . . .” I begin. He brushes a tendril of hair from my forehead. “What do you wish?”

I sigh deeply.  “That it could have been different.  That there’d been no Lace.  Or a Marcus. That when you came back from the Capitol there was only the two of us, growing back together.  It seems to me that’s the way it was meant to be but somehow it got all messed up.” “Yeah, me too.  But we’re together now.  That’s what matters.” “I would have liked, at least, for us to have had our first time with each other.  I feel like we’ve missed out on something special.  We should have . . . before.  You know, before we went into the Quell.”   There’s a long pause.  “Didn’t we?” “No.” “Well, I just thought . . . are you sure?” “Peeta, I would remember something like that.   We didn’t.  Why would you think that?” “I don’t know.  I just thought we did.   I remember make-up and showering or something and it was in your room.” “That would have been the night before we went into the arena.  After the interviews.  But all we did was sleep.”   “Oh.  I guess I must have imagined it then.  There are still memories I can’t be sure of but this one seemed so real.” I pull his face down to mine.  “This is what’s real.”  I give him a long kiss and then settle back into the crook of his arm. But before I drift off to sleep, my thoughts go to that night before the Quell.  I recall pulling Peeta into my room and a state between wakefulness and sleep. But between times is a complete blank. I don’t remember showering for instance. Or Peeta showering.  Or of us getting into bed.  But we must have.  Without thinking, I press my hand to my left temple.  Right on the spot where Johanna hit me with the coil of wire.  There’s no pain anymore, but the memories swirl just as they did then as I try to sort out what is true and what is false.  Maybe . . . maybe, it happened?  Peeta and I were very familiar with each other with those kisses on the beach for people who had, up until then, only shared chaste kisses. And it didn’t hurt at all that first time with Marcus.  But I just don’t see how I could forget.   I roll over onto my other side and Peeta rolls with me, cradling my back.  I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and dream of seventeen-year-old Katniss and Peeta and their very first time.  

Addendum. The following excerpt was discovered among notes made by Katniss Everdeen for her memoir on the Hunger Games and her role in the Rebellion.  For reasons unknown, it was not included in the final draft.  Historians have speculated that the omission could be due to a number of factors: that it lacked relevance to the central theme of war and oppression, that it was too personal in nature, or because the prose resembles that of a particularly bad romance novel.   It is also notable for the difference in point of view narrative from first person to third person.  Various theories have been put forward.  Does this suggest the introduction of a fantasy element, that this is what author would have liked to have occurred?  Or is it due to prudishness on the author’s part?  As a teenager, Katniss Everdeen had a reputation for purity.  Her memoirs, written when she was in her mid to late thirties, take on the language and tone of the adolescent she was at the time the action takes place.  Could this be teenage Katniss distancing herself from her burgeoning sexuality?  Evidence to support this is her account of the famous “kisses on the beach” which, in her memoir, was confined to prolonged kissing but in actuality was more akin to heavy petting.  In addition, is her tendency to cloak feelings of sexual arousal behind euphemisms such as “that thing,” “a stirring inside my chest,” and kisses that don’t satisfy.  

Contentious, but also worthy of consideration, is hijacked Peeta Mellark’s insinuation that more happened on those “nights on the train” than Katniss Everdeen admitted to.  Was the accusation simply an attempt to embarrass her in front of her friends, or was this the resurfacing of a genuine memory?   Eminent psychiatrist Dr Lucius Aurelius, a descendant of Dr Gaius Aurelius, the same psychiatrist who treated Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, proposed that Mellark had confused adolescent masturbatory fantasies with reality as a form of wish fulfillment.  At the time, he had great difficulty discerning the real from the not real.   However, it should be noted, that this recollection, no matter how nebulous, is given greater credence by Everdeen’s own telling of this one event.   From “Catching Fire” the second volume of the trilogy “The Hunger Games.”    The omitted passages are in italics.   We walk down the hallway.  Peeta wants to stop by his room to shower off the make-up and meet me in a few minutes, but I won’t let him.  I’m certain that if a door shuts between us, it will lock and I’ll have to spend the night without him.  Besides, I have a shower in my room.  I refuse to let go of his hand.   She showers first and while he is in the bathroom, she searches for something he can change into.   “This might fit,” she says, holding up a voluminous nightgown with a ruffled high neck. “It won’t fit across the shoulders,” he replies.  “Maybe a robe?”   She retrieves her discarded robe from the floor and hands it to him.  Aside from being too tight around the arms, the front edges don’t come together. “Perhaps you could wear it backwards,” she suggests.  “Like a hospital gown.” “That could work,” he says with a wry smile, “Except my backside will be hanging out.  I’ll just wear the towel and hope it stays put during the night.”

“It won’t.  Look, I’ve seen you almost naked before and you didn’t care about me seeing you then. Don’t wear anything.  I don’t mind.  I’ll even sleep naked too so it doesn’t seem so strange.  I often sleep with nothing on anyway,” she says with a nonchalance she’s far from feeling.  She hasn’t forgotten the naked Johanna in the lift or his laughter at her reaction and her so-called “purity”.  She’ll show him she’s neither pure nor has a problem with nakedness, either his or her own.  She starts to lift the hem of her nightgown but drops it again.  “I’ll just turn the lights out,” she says. They get into bed.  She lays her head against his chest as she always does and his arms go around her.  But the skin-on-skin contact evokes sensations previously not felt before. Her breasts are flattened against his side and she’s conscious of her bare pubis, recently divested of its hair, pressed against his hip.  The sensation builds and demands some kind of release.  In an attempt to alleviate it, she moves onto her back, and as she does, she inadvertently lowers her arm and it brushes against the tip of something long and hard.  

He gasps and tries to twist away from her.  “I’m sorry,” he says.  “I didn’t mean – “ “It’s all right,” she says quickly. “That happens to boys, doesn’t it? I’m not offended, really.”  She had known about, and ignored, other times in bed together when his body had acted without his permission.  And this time, with her lying naked next to him, she would have been more offended if his body hadn’t reacted. “Please stay,” she says.  “I need you to hold me.  I don’t care about that.” He lies back down and she lays her head on his chest but it’s impossible to relax.  All her senses are heightened and she’s acutely aware of a corresponding tension in his body.  How are they to sleep?  And they so need to sleep, tonight of all nights.  Who knows when they’ll be able to sleep next?   Maybe if they. . .?   She agonizes over it, uncertain of what to do.  Her experience at this kind of thing is almost non-existent. The most she’d ever done is kissing, and the most she’d ever felt before is a stirring inside her chest.  And then to make the first move?  She knows it will have to be her because she’s certain that he won’t.  He doesn’t even kiss her unless there’s a camera or someone around to witness it.  She can guess why.  It’s because he’s not sure of her.  He doesn’t want what happened before to happen again.   Very gradually, she lowers her arm again, over his ribs, over his taut abdomen.  There’s an intake of breath and she can feel the rigidity of his muscles. Lower goes the arm until it glances against that thing again.  With almost certain death in the arena perhaps only hours away, this might be her last chance to engage with one.   She gathers her courage and puts out a timorous hand to encircle its girth and is amazed at how soft it is over the steel.  He moans but makes no attempt to take her hand away.  She’s unsure how to proceed and moves her hand gently up and down the shaft.  She doesn’t want to hurt him.  He puts out a hand to encircle hers, tightens her grip and gives a firm tug.  He takes his hand away and, taking his cue, discovers that the tighter and faster she employs her hand, the more intensely he reacts to it, until there’s a series of shudders and a viscous liquid spurts out over her hand.  She discretely wipes it on the sheet. “Thank you,” he says, and kisses her softly on the lips.  Then, shyly, “Would it be okay if I touched you?” “Yes,” she breathes.  She moves onto her back and opens her limbs.  Reverently, he starts at her shoulder, trailing his fingers down to her ribs, skirting her breast, and then back up, cupping it fully, thumb brushing against the nipple.  A pulse beats insistently between her legs and she shivers.  

“Do you like that?” he asks.

“Mm,” she murmurs.  She parts her legs a little more in anticipation, willing him to take his exploration there next.  But he takes his time, skimming the curve of her waist and then her hip and inner thigh, perhaps hesitant, perhaps teasing.  Either way it gives rise to the most exquisite torture.  Please, please, she silently begs.   And then his fingertips softly trace the line of her sex, pressing deeper between the slippery folds, finding first a cavity into which he inserts a gentle finger, and then higher up, encountering a hard little nub that elicits the most intense of sensory delights.   “Oh,” she cries, and with that small word she eloquently conveys the place where he should focus his attention. With the lightest touch, he strokes and circles, keenly attune to how her body reacts to him.    He covers her mouth with his own as she hurtles towards the pinnacle, and with one delicate flick of his finger, she tumbles down, down, down into an abyss of the purest pleasure.   “That was amazing,” she says between kisses and he smiles against her mouth.  He’s half lying across her, and she becomes aware of that long hard thing again.  It’s seemingly sprung back to life.  She takes it in her hand feeling its weight and length, and thinks, “This should be inside me.”  She turns towards him and guides him between her legs.  He needs no further encouragement.  Lying fully over her now, he presses his hardness at her entrance and she tenses at the unfamiliar intrusion.   “You need to relax,” he tells her.   She nods and turns her attention to loosening her muscles and more of him glides in.  There’s a kind of burning, but not too unpleasant.  A final push and he’s all the way in.   He moves slowly at first, but then, seemingly overcome with passion, and with a few vigorous thrusts, he finds his release and collapses on top of her, panting against her neck.  She kisses his brow and brushes back his damp hair.  

“Sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t – “ “It’s okay.  There’ll be . . .” she starts to say but then stops. By this time tomorrow, one or both of them could be dead and there will be no other times. She begins again. “I’m glad I did it. And with you.” He kisses her and moves onto his back. His arm is around her shoulders and she rests her head against his chest.  “I love you,” he says.  She doesn’t say it back.  It doesn’t seem the right time, somehow.  But she takes his hand and kisses it.   Do we sleep?  I don’t know. We spend the night holding each other, in some halfway land between dreams and waking.  Not talking. Both afraid to disturb the other in the hope that we’ll be able to store up a few precious minutes of rest. Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know Peeta will have to go.  Tributes enter the arena alone.  He gives me a light kiss.   “See you soon,” I answer.

[heyo-silver]

Name Game//Tom Holland//Soulmate AU

Hey Hey! Friday POST!

Summary: (SOULMATE AU) You were born with the name Thomas on your wrist but that has to be the most basic name you could think of. As you started into your twenties you thought you were never going to meet your soulmate. That was until you got a job on the set of Spiderman-Homecoming and met a man named Tom.

Notes: This is my first Soulmate Au so it kind of sucks. SORRY!

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Every since I were born, people around you have been finding their own soulmate. My brother and sister had found theirs at a very young age and my parents said they found each other in their senior year of high school. This was frustrating. I got the most basic name on my wrist ever. Thomas. It was a basic name. Everyone told me to wait, they said my soulmate would come. There is only some much waiting a person can do, before they have done enough. I was getting tired of waiting, so instead I moved on from the whole ‘finding your soulmate’. Instead I went to school and because a stunt operator. Top of my class, I has a lot of opinions to pick from when choosing where to go with my life. I picked a contract with Marvel rigging stunts up. I would be working under a very experience rigger and I would act more like an assistant and runner, but it was a start.

When starting on set, people liked to talk about soulmates. I just ignored most conversation. This was no exception. Riggers along with the stunt director and Tom Holland’s stunt double was talking about how amazing their soulmate it. I rolled my eyes.

“Hey! (Y/N)!” I turned to look at Rob, who was the man I was working under, “I need you to go and get Holland ready for his stunts today.” He told me. I nodded. “And, you’re doing good.” He said. I smiled.

“Thanks, Robby.” I told him. I walked off to go and grab some of the waist belts and other things I needed. I hoisted the waist piece over my shoulder and held the carabineers that I needed in my right hand. I made my way off the green screen area. Set pieces were being set up for the day, showing how early it was. I sighed and started walking to the main actors trailers. It wasn’t  very far away from set but it was a good 5 minute walk. I saw people running from trailer to trailer trying to get actors ready for the day. I didn’t blame them. It was stressful work being on set. You could be fired in an instant and no one could say anything. I spotted Tom’s trailer and his makeup artist walking out of the door.

“Hey! Carol!” I called her. She turned to me and waved.

“Tom’s inside, he’s all yours!” She said as she passed me.

“Thanks!” I smiled. Carol was someone that I enjoyed being around. She was in the same boat as me. She had not yet found the person who’s name is on her wrist and she was okay with that. She had a stable job and she enjoyed life, we were could relate to one another. I opened his trailer door and stood outside.

“Can I come in?” I asked.

“Yeah!” I head him. I walked in and saw Tom sitting on his phone. He looked up from his phone.

“Hey!” He greeted.

“Hey Tom. My name is (Y/n).” I told him. His eyes light up. I smiled. He had a child-like glow to him.

“I was sent to get you ready for some stunts today.” I told him setting some of the stuff I had in my hands on the ground.

“Okay.” He said standing up. He set his phone on the table. He took some small strides towards me. I looked down at his waist and saw the small holes silted into the fabric.

“Can you lift your arms up?” I asked him. He swung his arms up. We sat in silence for a moment before he spoke up.

“So, tell me about yourself (Y/n).”

“Um,” I paused and I wrapped the bands around him. “I don’t know what to say.’ I chuckled. “Um, can you.” I paused, pointing to the leg loops that were sitting on his waist.

“Oh, yeah!” He smiled. I turned around, slightly embarrassed. I looked to the name on my wrist. ‘Thomas’. I sighed.

“Okay,” I turned, “I think I did this wrong.” I laughed. The loops of the holster were twisted and wrapped around his legs and he looked like he was about to fall over. I chuckled again. He just gave me a kid like smile.

“Okay, well, let’s start by sitting you down.” He hobbled over to his seat. I couldn’t stop laughing. He looked defeated. I got down on my knees and pulled at the ropes.  

“Have you heard, Lizzie found her soulmate?” he said.

“Um, I didn’t” I said pulling at the ropes some more, loosening the straps.

“Yeah,”  he paused, “have you got your yet?” He asked. I paused my movements.

“No.” I simply told him before pulling the strap over his leg.

“Oh. Well, you can always hope.” He told me.

“Yeah, I guess.” The room was silent for a few moments.

“Well, what about you Mr. Holland?” I asked him. Tightening the straps.

“About what?”

“A soulmate.” I looked at him. “Have you got your yet?” I clarified.

“Oh, no. But I think I know who she is.” He said. He started twiddling his thumbs.

“Well,” I stood up,” looks like that’s good.” I walked back over to the table and grabbed the three carabineers.

“I hate to ask this, but I am curious.” Tom started. “What’s the name on your wrist?” I turned to him and showed his the dark colored ink on my right wrist. His hand gently grabbed it.

“So, that means you’re her right?” He asked me. I looked at him questionably. He held his wrist up to me and I gasped. On his wrist, there, in dark ink was a name.

It was MY name.  

“I guess so.”

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Do you guys want a part two?