#not being able to tell the difference between being brunette and ash blonde makes me feel like those tiktoks of like

[thepoisonroom]

it's so funny that my girlfriend is technically blonde. whatre you doing lol

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝that's a little dark.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Class 1-A ]

「 Class 1-A with an emotionless reader who gets hit with a quirk that make them turn back into a child along with the mentality of a child. In the end, Class 1-A and then fluff ensues with them basically fawning over a cute shy and easily flustered reader. But, they discover something about you.」

You couldn't remember what you did yesterday but it felt like you had the greatest sleep in your entire life. As your eyes adjusted to the surprisingly bright light, you slowly got up and looked at your surroundings. The place was unfamiliar and for a second, you found yourself rubbing your eyes and yawning. It seemed that you were in an infirmary of some sort but you don't recall going to school or anything. There were bandages around your arms and neck but it wasn't anything new.

"Oh, you're finally awake, my child." an old lady you didn't recognize swivelled around her office chair and hopped off.

"Who are you and where am I?" you asked, voice coming out a bit weaker than you had expected.

She identified herself as Recovery Girl — the nurse of the school and explained what had happened to you. It seemed like you got hit by a quirk in an unfortunate accident which caused you to turn back into a child with no memory of yourself in the future. You didn't believe it until you saw the different technologies and the date on the calendar. Never in your life you had felt so out of place in your entire life.

While the friendly old lady was trying her best to fill you in, the door to infirmary opened and a brown haired girl stepped in. She had has shoulder length, brown hair that's bobbed and curved inwards at the end. The girl looked at you for a moment, her eyes lit up and you could sense the relief in her eyes. She dropped her belongings and rushed towards the bed you had been sitting on. You backed away on instinct, slightly intimidated by how aggressive she was being.

”Where did you get those injuries from!? I thought you just got hit by a quirk on accident!” she exclaimed, looking at the gauze wrapped around your wrists and neck.

”Calm down. You’re scaring the poor girl.” Recovery Girl stepped in before this brown haired stranger did anything to you.

Recovery Girl explained your situation to the girl who quickly understood the situation. She then approached you but this time, she did it cautiously and ensured that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable nor intimidated by her. After a quick introduction, you leaned that she was Uraraka Ochaco and supposedly one of your classmates. She got down to your eye level and attempted to befriend you. She tried asking a few questions about yourself. You could answer the simplest questions like ones about yourself. However when it came to questions about the times you spend in UA, you shook your head to everything, none of them sounded familiar to you.

Uraraka spoke in a gentle manner that you were not used to and it didn't take long for you to get comfortable around her. She entertained you by telling stories about her life in UA and heroes. The brunette managed to make you smile a bit with her way of storytelling which included a bit of exaggeration here and there along with the occasional hand gestures.

"Uraraka-san? Are you ready to go back to the dorms?" another unfamiliar voice was heard from the entrance of the infirmary. You saw a few heads peek into the infirmary, those you did not recognize at all.

With the help of Uraraka, your situation was explained to the new people that just arrived. It didn't take long for your classmates to gather around you and pointing out how cute you were. Though it was a bit embarrassing to be put under the spotlight, you quite liked the feeling of having so many people care about you. It made you think about how bright the future seemed for you.

You were brought back to the dorms where you met up with your other classmates. Those who knew about your current situation quickly explained what was going on with you to avoid any misunderstanding and confusion. You stood awkwardly at the entrance, fiddling with the hem of your dress and looking down to avoid eye contact. Suddenly, you were pushed forward by an unknown force, falling on your knees.

“Who left their fucking child here?” a scary looking guy glared down at you as you tried recovering from the small fall you had.

”Hey, Bakugou! Mind your language!” his friend whispered at the ash blonde who just clicked his tongue in response.

Their loud voices startled you which resulted in you to hide behind Uraraka's legs as if it was the safest place in the world. You gripped tightly on her skirt, hiding yourself from the people you didn't recognize. Loud voices always made you nervous and scared, it reminded you of your mother whenever she was unsatisfied with your performance. Uraraka let her hand stroke your hair to soothe your nerves a little. Ashido stood in front of the two of you with her hands on her hips, looking like a mother reprimanding their child.

"Bakugou, you're scaring [First Name]!" the pink haired girl scolded Bakugou who seemed a bit confused.

"You're telling me this brat is [Nickname]?" he closed the distance between the two of you with a few large strides. He stared at your for a few seconds to study your face a bit. It didn't take him that long to actually recognize a few familiar features and eventually he walked off, muttering something under his breath.

"I've never seen her like this before!" Uraraka cooed as you continued to hide behind her legs. You were never the type to be in the center of attention and didn't have any friends in when you were young because of how shy and awkward you were. Ashido crouched down and offered you a small jar of cookies that she had found in the kitchen.

"Should we send her home? She might be more comfortable staying with her parents." Yaoyorozu suggested, watching you munching on the cookie that you've been handed to.

"I think its best we tell her family about it this." Iida took it upon himself to pull out his phone and prepare to dial your home.

”Are we all having a sleepover?” you spoke up after being silent almost the entire time you arrived at the dorms.

"I don't want to go home." Everyone stopped to stare at you for a while, some surprised because it was the first time they've heard you since you came back. The girls looked at each other for a while as if they were silently communicating with one another. Midoriya who seemed to be the first one to notice that you seemed a bit uncomfortable, crouched down in front of you.

"You can stay here with us if you want. I'm sure everyone is okay with that." the viridian haired male gave you a gentle smile that made you feel a bit relaxed.

"Do you like having sleepovers, [First Name]-chan?" Ashido plopped down right next to you.

"I don't have friends and mommy doesn't like having me around." you mumbled.

"That's silly. I'm sure your mother is worried about you." Iida replies.

"Nu uh, mommy strangles me like this every night.” you shook your head lightly and wrapped your hands around your neck to imitate someone strangling you. The room immediately grew silent at your comment, clearly unsure of how to respond to your oddly specific comparison.

"Haha, good joke [First Name]-chan!" Kaminari patted your head gently, his laugh clearly a forced one.

"Mommy used to pull my hair too."

You never the friendly type of person to begin with anyways. From the very first day you got into UA, you were quite anti-social, never initiating any conversations or made effort to befriend anyone. However, it was quite surprising to know that you've been abused when you were younger. Almost everyone seemed shocked by the revelation and had no idea how to react.

"My mom gave me this scar." Todoroki crouched down next to you and gestured to the scar over his eye.

”I can’t believe that the only thing closed off people have in common is the fact that they’ve been abused.” Jirou muttered out loud.

"Okay, don't worry! We're all having a sleepover tonight!" Uraraka beamed brightly which made your eyes light up like a Christmas tree. A small smile made its way to your features and you couldn't help but sway excitedly.

"Everyone is joining right?"

There was no way they could refuse those hopeful eyes of yours, not when you have been through so much at such an age. They all seemed eager, suggesting a movie, snacks and games.One particular ash blonde looked indifferent, hands shoved into his pockets as he began to slowly walk away from the crowd of people. The first person to notice that he was making his way back to his own room was Iida.

"Where are you going Bakugou-kun?" the class president had asked as if it was a natural that Bakugou was also supposed to be a part of this so called 'sleepover'. Bakugou glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at Iida as if he had gone insane.

"What makes you think that I will join this stupid—" the ash blonde gestured at whatever was going on.

"But a sleepover is not one without everyone." your quiet voice interrupted, your small hands tugging at his pants. He held his tongue after seeing Iida wildly gesture at him not to be so mean to you. The entirety of the class seemed to be really hell bent on giving you what you wanted.Bakugou felt his eyebrows twitching and began weighing his options.

Sero, Ashido, Kaminari and Kirishima were openly pleading him to stay while some others seem to believe that Bakugou would never want to sit down for a stupid sleepover. The ash blonde gave in, realizing that no matter what he chose, it won't be any different. If he chose to not participate, he probably won't be able to fall asleep from all the noise. And the possibly of witnessing these extras embarrass themselves didn't sound too bad.

"Fine! You guys are so annoying....." Bakugou grumbled. Your eyes lit up at his change of heart and began tugging him enthusiastically towards the common area’s couch.

Why does he agree to the stupidest things?

Total: 1717 words Published: 05.06.2021

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ We tried our best for this scenario. Hope we reached your expectations! We hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! Tumblr has changed how the asks look and it looks very different. Hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are open! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[xannarobertsx]

War of Hearts: Lovely

Okay, so this is the first chapter for my story for War of Hearts. Let me know what you think. (And by that, really let me know what you think -- I’d appreciate it a lot.) 

War of Hearts Chapter One: Lovely

"This is Prince Theodore, Princess Rosella, and Theodore, this is Princess Rosella Hannele Astra of the Kingdom of Asteria." Queen Morrigan was formally introducing them. Most of Rosella's face was covered by hair. She was a tad embarrassed to be introduced to the Prince of such a prestigious Kingdom in her clad dress she had worn. She assumed he probably thought she was nothing more than a mere beggar one would pick up off the streets.

"I already know who she is. Our families have been acquainted for quite some time now, I don't need a formal introduction." The way he spoke to his mother, made Rose peer out from behind her hair to see his stern brown eyes glaring to the Queen.

"Well the kingdom will need a formal introduction and we need you to be there, by her side, so we can introduce her as your wife." His mother spoke as her eyes narrowed on Theodore.

"I don't want to have a formal announcement of our marriage. It's purely political, I'm tired of everyone fawning all over her. It's not like I'll ever love her or choose her to be my mate. Now if you excuse me, I have a day planned with Luciana." His words cut deep as he walked away, and Prince Theodore was right and Rosella knew that. The young Princess was sentenced here for the savior of her own country, not his. She knew she was probably just a hindrance to him.

"Theodore!" The Queen yelled, sighing as she had to leave the Princesses side to chase after her son.

Rose's hands fell to her sides as she ambled her way over to the balcony, pondering on how her life would be different if her Kingdom wasn't poor. Would she be able to live more freely and not in fear of war? Her fingers trailed along the golden railing that ornate designs carved into it. The entire thing must have cost a fortune. Rosella's fingertips sit on the railing as her long brown hair falls out of her face, exposing her wide doed bright blue colored eyes and as she's minding her own business. A pair of golden brown eyes gazing up to her. It was a young male, he looked similar to Prince Theodore, but younger. Was he his younger brother? He was smiling up to her and waving. Rose couldn't help but wonder.

"My mother said you're the new Princess, she also said to forgive her. She had to go deal with my brother. I'll be showing you to your chambers." He yelled up to her, surely all the servants far and wide could hear what he just yelled to the Princess.

Not even seconds later, the boy that had hardly even introduced himself to Rose had managed to run all the way up within minutes and reach to where she was currently standing. He didn't even seem out of breath. "I'm Prince Matthias, it's a pleasure to meet you, your Highness." He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. Rose's fingers were pale and dainty in his masculine hands that honestly were kind of rough.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, please, don't call me your Highness. Call me Rose." She smiled warmly to Prince Matthias as he raised his head. His shaggy platinum blonde hair was probably the only difference between him and Prince Theodore. He was spitting images of his brother, from his chiseled facial structure to his almond shaped eyes and even his lips.

Matthias smiled back to Rose. "Well then, Rose. Follow me." He extended an arm for Rose to link with as he escorted her to what would be her chambers. After the event of the evening she would be wed to Prince Theodore and they would share this room.

The room was located in the far back of the castle on the second floor, it was luxuriously decorated in elaborate ways as if to scream Theo's family's wealth. Honestly it made Rose rather uncomfortable with the golden embroidery that every item nearly had attributed onto it. From his large bed that had pure silken red sheets, to the wooden frame of the bed that reached to the ceiling lined with gold. Rose couldn't help but wonder how one family must have so much. The silk on Rose's fingertips felt lovely, she wondered how'd it'd feel having such devine things wrapping around her body. She was never granted the privilege of such nice things back home. The rest of the room was decorated to match the bed, and Theodore even had a bookshelf and a desk in a corner in the room and a balcony with what looked to be a nice view of the woods and the far away mountains. She assumed the view would be nice at nightfall, when the stars would come out and twinkle as if just for her.

Being brought out of her reverie as Theodore enters the room with the Queen. "No. She's not staying here in my chambers. Get her, her own chambers." Theo demanded as soon as he saw Rose.

"She will stay in this room tonight, Theodore and that's final. You two will consummate your marriage as husband and wife, after the ceremony like everyone else." Queen Morrigan instructed. "I will have a wise woman check Rose in the morning and if she's still intact, you'll pay."

His mother warned him, which made Theodore groan and rolled his eyes as his gaze lingered over Rosella. "If I'm to wed something that resembles a beast, can we at least make her decent?" He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"Yes, we cannot do the ceremony with her looking the part of a servant." Queen Morrigan headed out of the room, as well as Prince Matthias without another word.

Theodore's eyes moved off of Rosella and over to his wardrobe. He really didn't want to go through with this marriage, and he was making it apparent and evident on his face. Though, the Prince did care little on how anyone might think of him. "Can you please escort yourself out?" His warm brown eyes suddenly turned ice cold as they slanted as they bore into Rosella.

The petite brunette nodded, bringing herself to her feet, as she saw herself out. She was met by Queen Morrigan who was lingering outside of Theodore's chambers. Queen Morrigan caught sight of Rose and quickly whisked her away to where she would be staying until she was wed with Theodore, where she was met with who Morrigan said would be her Chambermaid, who's name was Estelle. The room Rose had found herself in was decorated the same luxuriously that Theo's room was decorated in, except this had different touches and designs of flowers that trailed all over the carpets and the burgundy curtains. Much like Theodore's room, everything was lined with gold. From the bed frame once more, to the wardrobe and even the designs on the chairs that sat in a dimly lit corner of the room.

After Queen Morrigan introduced Estelle to Rose, she fled the room, leaving Rosella in the capable hands of Estelle. Once Estelle was behind Rose, she pulled her hair back and tied it with a ribbon. Her long brown hair was wavy and at a major disarray. She would have to have Rose take a bath before her ceremony, if there was even time for that. The chambermaid led Rose to the bath which was attached to the bedchamber. She fetched some hot water while Rosella sat with another chambermaid that brushed out the girl's tangled hair. Estelle knew she had her work cut out for her with how grimy Rose looked. It looked as if she came from cinders, her face covered with dirt and her clothing looked like that of a servant. Part of Estelle wondered how this girl could possibly be a Princess.

Theodore sat in his bedchambers, lounging back on his bed. The silkiness of his sheets had the prince feel relaxed. He was still not ready for his marriage, let alone to consummate the marriage for his parents sake. He thought back to the way Rosella looked in her tattered dress, shaking her unattractive appearance from his eyes. Why did he have such a pull towards her? She was disgusting to him. A knock at his chamber door disrupted his thoughts, with a groan he got up and answered the door. It was Luciana. His arms wrapped around her and hers around him as she entered his room, he closed the door behind her.

"I don't want you to marry her." Her voice was sad as she looked up to him, her thin hazel eyes striking through him.

"I know, my love." He kissed her forehead, holding her curvaceous body to his. "I don't have a choice if I want to be King someday."

Luciana pouted, her raven black hair falling to her back as she kept her eyes focused on Theodore. "You could tell your parents that you'll marry me, make me your Queen, not some washed up hideous princess who's not even your mate."

Theodore's hand moved from Luciana's waist and to rub the back of her hair as he held her body to his and groaned. "After they make me consummate the marriage I'm not even going to give her the time of day. You have nothing to worry about."

Luciana twitched her nose, hearing the words of him saying he would bed the troll. "You're not serious, tell me they're not going to make you actually take her to bed!"

Theo sighed and looked away, nodding. "I don't have a choice in that matter, it's a tradition for us werewolves. We marry and then must bed our mate for children." He moved his hand to his ash blonde hair and ran his fingers through the rather short length of it.

"...Wait, so you're supposed to be taking her to bed to get her pregnant? For what? An heir?!?" Luciana seemed completely baffled by these words Theodore had just uttered out.

"Sadly yes, but I'll see a witch before our union to ensure that she doesn't end up with my child. You'll have no worries, Luciana." He kissed his lovers forehead, with his thick soft pink lips.

"She's disgusting." Luciana kept herself nuzzled up against the Prince, enjoying the feel of being in her lovers arms. "...I actually know a witch, though. My family uses her for cures for their ailments, she's quite adept at it. I could take you to her, if you'd like. Her shop is located within Peiria, we'd be back before your ceremony." Luci tried to coerce Theodore, though he wasn't exactly objecting to it.

Nodding Theodore stood up, with Luciana and taking her hand in his. "Well, it looks like we ought to get going."

Luciana giggled, enjoying the warmth of his hand in hers.

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

Queen Morrigan sat idly besides the King at the head of their table. His demeanor was strong, sitting straight up with the best posture one could see. His brown eyes peered over the table as servants ushered meals in and out. His son, Prince Matthias, sat beside the Queen already dressed in his formal clothes for his brother's wedding ceremony. Matthias was the practical one out of his family, always was and always would be. While his mother was more political, proper and firm, his father being a slight drunkard but ruling with an iron thumb, his little sister Princess Anneliese being spoiled and most of all his older brother Theodore being a bit of a rebel despite him being crown prince and the one that would inherit the entire Kingdom. Prince Matthias knew that they were all only pawns, to be shipped off and wed to neighboring Kingdom's for alliances. Much like what Princess Rosella was for her family, a pawn for diplomatic purposes. Princess Anneliese was already wed off, when she turned 16 years of age, she was wed off to Prince Charles of Kingdom Tauriel for money of all things. Matthias knew he wouldn't be far away from his father doing the same to him, he just had quite a bit of luck that there were more males having been born into royalty of their neighboring kingdom's than females around his age.

The large solid wood table sat before them all, carved with little intricate designs along its edges. A red table runner danced along the table, lingering to where the King sat at the head of the table. They were all waiting for Prince Theodore and Princess Rosella to come and join them. Beneath the King and Queen's table, stood their priest and beyond that was the dance floor of the ballroom and around that, sat an array of others with Nobles filling them out and taking their spots to witness the ceremony. The golden entryway to the formal ballroom was decorated with a variety of flowers that were lavender and red and white roses with baby's breath and different types of greenery. The sounds of people chit-chatting filled the room, until the room fell silent when Prince Theodore entered.

All eyes in the room fell over the gorgeous Prince. His chiseled features and creamy dark brown eyes scanned the room. Making many ladies' hearts skip a beat with just a glance from him. He was on the search to see where Luciana was, and his eyes locked with hers as soon as he found her. She was sitting at the closest table towards his family. His hair was cut short, at least shorter and more kempt than his brother's hair and not to mention was more of a dirty blonde, with natural brown low-lights than a platinum blonde. Theodore was nicely dressed in a pair of black trousers adorning a leather belt tied to his waist. A silk white tunic was tucked into his trousers and a black sleeveless vest was covering the top of it. Theodore ambled his way to where the priest was and stood, folding his arms over his chest. He was ready to get this over with.

Just as Theodore turned to look at the entryway, in comes Princess Rosella. Her hair was now styled and out of her face in a half up braid lingering down her back. Catching a glance of her, Theodore nearly had to catch his breath. She was utterly gorgeous in an innocent way. Something within him screamed, "Mate." He wondered if it was his wolf? He tried to quiet him, pushing the thoughts away. He was mated to Luciana, and she would forever reign in his heart... But there was just something about Rose, he couldn't quite pin-point. It was like his wolf was screaming she was his mate, he couldn't have two mates, could he? Just as he thought of her, their eyes locked onto each other, his wolf screamed in his head. Her soft blue eyes fell to the floor once they met his, her teeth chewing on her nether lip. Theo couldn't peel his eyes away from her, her beauty. She wore a floor-length white gown that was made of silk and danced across her body. Looking quite like a doll. He could see every single curve of her body and wanted to run his fingers along her legs, up to her hips. Was that so bad?

Gritting his teeth, as Rosella waltzed her way forward, ever so slowly and elegantly. As she reached Theodore, she looked back up to him and their eyes met. Her breathing grew shallow and she tried to catch her breath as she could feel her heart simultaneously flutter in her chest. She didn't quite understand this feeling. Was this love? She just wanted to know. Taking her eyes off of Theodore she looked to the priest and prepared to pledge herself to Theodore on behalf of her country. Theodore also turned to the priest, keeping his hands folded over each other as the priest began their ceremony.

As soon as they exchanged their "vows" and they were deemed to be married by the church, it wasn't required for the two to exchange a kiss but at the end of the night complete the faux mating ritual that their family had. Theodore stood beside Rosella, and they were both complemented and congratulated by their guests as they ushered towards them. Although Rose could barely speak with anyone, seeing as she was quite nervous.

"Theodore, Lord Bastian wishes to speak with you." The Queen whisked her son away to go speak with a family friend, making him leave Rosella's side for the first time that evening.

The Princess found herself lost in this Castle and quickly averted her gaze from the ballroom. She looked over towards the balcony that was towards the back as people lingered around drinking and enjoying themselves. She was the only one truly by herself, and Rose knew that. With a sigh, and slight scenery overload, she made her way from the crowd of people trying to talk to her and went outside to the balcony. Which was beautiful, the stars above glistened and part of her wondered if there was truly a place for her out in this cold world. Her arms laid over the stone of the balcony, so she could lean over it and admire the sky easier.

"Fancy seeing you here." The voice was new to Rose, and she turned her head to catch a glimpse of the raven haired beaut. Luciana, who in return shot a smile to the brunette. "I'm Luciana, Theodore's mate, I'm sure you heard of me."

Rose nodded, and then her eyes moved from the girl and back to the sky. "...Yeah, I heard of you. Not much though. Don't worry, I don't expect to take him from you." The Princess couldn't help but try to reassure her.

"I don't think you could. You see, our bond is pretty tight, we're true soulmates. You're just his wife, which won't last for long." Luciana leaned, with her back from the balcony's edge and her long black hair lingering along it. She wore a silk red dress that hugged her curves and left little to imagination. If Rose had to pick a word to associate with her, it would be seductress.

"I'm only here for my country, I don't want to get in a way with whatever you two have going on. I don't plan to." Rose bit her lower lip, before turning back to Luciana.

"Good." Luciana chirped, with a giggle. "It would really suck for you if you did, because when the King dies, Theo will be crowned King and we can abolish your marriage to him. If you don't stay out of my way, I'll make it hard for your country and yourself."

"Y-you can't--" Just as the words uttered out of Rosella's mouth, Theodore ushered over and wrapped his arms around Luciana in front of her. Right in front of her, he planted a kiss on Luciana's lips and Rose felt a twinge of pain. What was this?

[lovehugsandcandy]

Find the Lady (BP, Ash x MC)

A/N: So I started this when I was amused by the hijinks of BP and abandoned it when it started to get old but then figured I should try to finish it...because I do love me a snarky LI, don't I? This was already posted in AO3, sorry if you already read it.

Pairing: Ash x MC; mentions of Courtney x Mario ‘BrainMelt’ Bautista, Bachelorette Party

Length: ~3600 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing. Someone (?) drinks too many Bloody Marys and gets sick.)

Summary: Find the Lady but Mandy’s the Lady and, if Ash can find her, he’s not letting go.

Ash had to do a double-take, a triple-take, hell, a quadruple-take, when he walked by the open door of the Peanut Butter and Banana Quickie Chapel & Pawn Shop at the far end of the Strip. It wasn’t unusual for the gaudy gold doors to be propped wide open in the spring, Vegas heat not yet in full force, comfortable days still the norm before the fire of the summer arrived; the chapel was small enough that he was able to peer inside, past the makeshift pews, past the smoke machines and disco balls, all the way to the far wall where linen flowers and neon lights surrounded the glitter-gold script of their slogan. One-stop shop! We’ll put a ring on it and take it off your hands, too!

However, none of the garish decor caught Ash’s eye. Instead, it was captured by the trio who stood with their backs to him, speaking to the Elvis impersonator. Now that he looked closer, he could tell that it was the blond girl who hooked up with the magician and the hotshot doctor who just happened to live out East near Mandy. These two were just secondary to the sight that stole his attention though because, right in the middle, always right in the thick of everything, stood the gorgeous lawyer herself, braid cascading down her back as she spoke animatedly to Elvis. 

He wanted to head in, to say hello and take just a second to bask in her attention, to see her face, but he had to pause. If she was here, talking to a quickie minister with Reed at her side, it could only mean one thing. She definitely wouldn’t want him popping back into her life at this exact, special moment. So he took just a minute to watch, her hands flying through the air as she gestured to the flowers, the pedestal. He had to smile, melancholy as it was. He was glad it worked out for them. She deserved to be happy.

~~~~~

He hadn’t seen her in six months; hell, it felt like they had barely spoken over text since she left for the airport with her friends and his heart, but she was never far from his mind. He always knew that he was little more than an interesting diversion in her life, a wild story about the time she was in Vegas and met a two-bit hustler while on the run from the mafia, but for him? She was no drunken exploit or tall tale. Yes, it had been short romance, but it was the first time a tourist wove a path into not only his bed but his mind and his bones and his soul. He could still see her, clear as day, standing on the roof of his shit apartment, bathed in the sun's glow as it peeked over the mountains. 

He would recognize her anywhere.

Which is why he had to do another double-take on the Strip that night. He was in the middle of a game of Find the Lady, a pair of eager college-aged tourists focused on his hands as they followed the familiar routine, over-under left right left, when a dark braid caught his eye for the second time that day. He turned his head, quickly, too quickly, and his hands stuttered, the second card falling from his palm to the pavement below.

The girls in front of him laughed as Ash gaped at the card on the ground. He never messed up this game. “Wow, ladies.” He pulled his best smile out. “I think you both distracted me. You win this time.” He knelt to grab his card and held out the deck again. “Best two out of three?”

Once they had finally wandered off, after five more games where he made sure he focused only on his cards, not the gorgeous brunette he was certain he saw, he scanned the crowd intently. Nothing. He looked around.

“Jayson, man, did you see-?”

“I’m not helping you.” Jayson held up his discs. “I’ve had no success tonight because you keep telling people my mix tape is just me at karaoke.”

“It is you at karaoke. It’s not even good karaoke; it’s a clip from your phone at Club Yamang that ends with you screaming at a bouncer as they throw you out.”

“I told them I paid my tab.” Jayson glared.

“Yeah, with a stolen credit card.”

“Man, shut up, you don’t need to blow up my spot.”

“You have no spot.” Ash was still scanning the crowd, Strip packed with tourists and grifters and hustlers enjoying the glittering facades around them. “Do you remember-”

“I remember nothing.” Ash sighed as Jayson stalked off, clutching his CDs under one arm as he looked for his next victim.

With one last look around, Ash shook his head and got back to work. It’s not like she was here to find him anyway.

~~~~~

The next night found him outside the strip club, LIV DUDS blinking in the window. Shitty exterior aside, it was always packed on Saturdays, an easy way to catch willing coeds as they streamed out of the club, high on the buzz that only scantily clad strippers provided.

He was far from the door, eyeing the crowd and waiting for someone who seemed willing to play, when a shout made him turn.

“BACHELORETTE PARTY PART TWO! WOOHOO! ALL THE FUN WITH NONE OF THE GUNSHOTS!” His jaw dropped. It was the blond again, Courtney, the one with the enormous wild streak and dirty mind. She was bouncing, vibrating, visibly excited at being in her element again. And trailing behind her? Ash watched as the three amigos walked out, the senator’s ex and the one with the sketchy job and then, trailing behind with a blush on her cheeks and smile on her face, there she was. Mandy always took his breath away, every time he saw her, and this was no exception.

He stood, frozen on the spot, watching her talk on her cell, hands gesturing, as Diana put her hands on her shoulders to hustle her into a waiting Dryve.

Crap. 

He sprinted forward but watched as the backdoor shut, car lurching and pulling out into traffic.

Fuck. He glanced around, eyes falling on an idling cab. He dashed to the window, knocking frantically.

“I need a- Gene?”

Gene rolled down his window. “’Sup, Ash?”

“I thought you were still pretending to be a human statue by the Bellagio.”

“Meh. Gold paint took forever to wash off, especially when it got inside those tiny shorts and irritated my-”

“TOO MUCH INFORMATION!” Ash grimaced, making a mental note to bleach his brain as soon as he got home. “Anyway, I need a ride. Now.”

“I’m on my break!” Gene gestured to the tuna sandwich in his hands. “I haven’t eaten all day!” The words were barely intelligible around the giant bite in his mouth. 

Ash could just make out the taillights of their car heading downtown. With a deep breath, he opened the door and yanked Gene out of the driver’s seat.

“What the-”

“Here.” Ash pulled open the back door and shoveled him in before hopping behind the wheel, turning the engine, and peeling out. He could just make out the rideshare and had suddenly never been so grateful that the Strip was a long, flat line. “Just sit and enjoy.”

There was a rustling in the back and then a thud as Gene dove towards the floor. “My sandwich!”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You stole my cab.” He was pouting, brushing off the grime from his food, but Ash sensed that it was halfhearted as he settled into the seat and stepped on the gas.

“Not stealing-you’re in it!”

Ash saw Gene take a giant bite of his dinner in the rear-view mirror. “Still stealing,” he sulked.

“Risk I’m willing to take.” He didn’t know what he would say to her if he caught up to them. ‘Congratulations’ seemed a little too fake, ‘Remember me?’ a little too bitter.

“Grand theft auto here. I can’t believe I took financial advice from a thief!”

“Not a thief, I’m borrowing. Much like one does with a loan when they incur a debt. But I’m giving your collateral back when we catch up with that car!” Ash concentrated on darting between traffic, keeping the Dryve in sight, winding his way up the Strip, past the familiar glittering lights and lively casinos. “And, come on! It’s Vegas! Live a little!”

“View’s different back here.”

“That’s the spirit. Enjoy the ride, man.”

Gene gazed out the window. “Did you know that Dirty Harry’s has half priced drinks tonight?”

“Yeah, they do every year on Clint Eastwood’s birthday,” Ash answered idly, focused on getting closer to the girls’ car, gaining some distance as it started to slow down.

“Hmm….” Gene peered at him. “You’ve been doing this a long time, haven’t you kid?”

“Stealing cabs?”

“Hustling on the Strip.”

“About ten years.”

“You ever think about doing something else?”

Ash thought to the manuscript saved on his laptop, forty thousand words, a treatise on hustling tourists and taking risks in the world capital of risky decisions, only partially completed before he lost his motivation, right around the time he realized he lost Mandy for good. He thought about his book and how maybe he could write from anywhere, even from the ritzy East Coast city where doctors and lawyers met and drank expensive whisky with their expensive degrees on the wall. 

He swallowed. Gene was still looking intently at him, eyes peering into him like he read minds. “Sometimes,” Ash responded with a shrug. “But right now, I’m just thinking about catching up to that Dryve.”

“Just don’t crash my cab. I don’t need anymore debt!”

“You got it.”

Finally, after running two red lights, a nerve-wracking close call with a drunk tourist, and inventive insults from the backseat that Gene should definitely trademark, the Dryve pulled up to a stop; he could see the Girl Scouts jump out and file into their hotel.

He screeched to a stop in front of the building, wincing as the valet dove out of the way. “Ok, take your cab, Gene. Here’s my stop.”

He slammed out of the cab but the “Hey, Ash?” from behind him made him turn.

“Yeah?”

“Good luck with your girl.” He had to smile. Of course Gene knew who they were chasing. Ash had always been obvious.

“Thanks, man. Thanks for everything.”

With that, he raced into the lobby of the hotel, the same hotel where he had accidentally rescued them from the gunman, the same hotel with the forest penthouse and shitty security that seemed to allow Norwegian murderers open access to guest rooms. He shook his head. Focus. No time for a walk down a truly trippy memory lane now; he had to find them. Where could they be?

Luckily, raised voices at the bar to his right were a clear signal. A loud commotion, raised voices, and breaking glass? Bingo.

He skidded into the bar and froze. And blinked. And blinked again. “Ummm....”

“Oh! Hi, Ash.” Aisha gave him a quick wave and then returned to the task at hand, trying to corral an overwhelmed Courtney while bobbing and weaving to avoid the signature hand flap. “Courtney, come on!”

“But....” Ash grimaced as her hand collided with Aisha’s shoulder, the slap barely audible with the noise of the insanity in front of him. “But...”

Diana peeked around her friends, barely visible behind the giant thing in front of him. “Hey, Ash.”

“Hi, Diana. Umm...” He blinked again, wondering if he blinked enough times, the vision in front of him would fade. Did he hit his head? “Is that an ostrich?”

She scoffed at him. “It’s an emu!”

“Why the hell do you have an emu?”

Courtney was still flapping her hands, limbs vibrating as she stood; Diana edged away from her and muttered,  “.... because we’re staying in the rain forest suite again?”

“What. Do emus even live in the rain forest?” The emu looked unfazed. 

“Who cares, Ash!?! Do I look like I watch National Geographic?”

“Yes?” He took in her prim outfit, the severe look on her face, and the bottle of electrolyte water in her hand. He nodded definitively. “Yes. You look like your idea of a wild night is binging National Geographic in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers while wearing a face mask and drinking a green juice.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That was so specific that it feels like you were spying on me last weekend.”

He rubbed his temples. “Ok, where the hell did you get an emu?”

Courtney had calmed enough to join the world of the semi-functional and jumped in, “Ash, it’s Vegas! You can get anything here!” She lovingly stroked the neck of the bird; it seemed like it enjoyed the attention. Then again, who knew? “They still haven’t supplied any cute animals, so we had to find our own!”

“You mean, you stole it from the zoo.” Ash whirled to see Mandy walking in, a severe man in zookeeper garb trailing behind her.

“Borrowed!” Courtney’s voice did the screech-thing again.

“Stole and hid it in the suite until it escaped because no one fed it!” Mandy put her hands on her hips.

“What?!?! I left it cocktail weenies and made it Bloody Marys from the mini fridge!”

“It eats seeds. Insects. Grass.” The zookeeper edged closer. “It can’t metabolize alcohol; since water is scarce in their natural habitats, they have a tendency to consume vast amounts of liquids so it has reserves when-”

The zookeeper trailed off as the emu made a few grunting noises and, in a stunning display, threw up partially digested hot dogs and red liquid onto the bar floor as the entire group lunged backwards. They all looked at each other in stunned silence.

“Of all the vomit I thought I would see, I really didn’t think it would be from that.” Diana blinked, looking down at the violent red stain on the floor. For once, Ash agreed with her completely. The emu squawked and looked around, nosing its beak towards the bowl of peanuts on the bar. 

“Did that emu just boot and rally?” Courtney sounded as shocked as Ash felt.

The zookeeper sighed. “They really are amazing animals with a fully developed system of-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, enough with the zoology lesson.” Aisha glared. “Can you get this thing out of here?”

The zookeeper glared. “It’s not a thing. It’s the second largest bird on Earth with a wingspan of-”

“Ok.” Mandy patted his arm. “It’s amazing, but can you please remove it? I’m sure it wants to get back to the zoo.”

“Fine.”

Ash stepped out of the way, watching the zookeeper coo in some bird-language that made the emu duck its head and follow him out of the bar.

“Wow.” Courtney had stars in her eyes. “That creature is majestic.”

Mandy shrugged, catching Ash’s eye for the first time. He felt his heart stop. “Hi, Ash.” Hell, time stopped.

“And that’s our cue...” Courtney grabbed Diana’s arm, and he barely registered them brushing by, Aisha hot on their heels as they entered the bowels of the casino. The only thing he registered was Mandy’s gaze, pinning him in place with the weight of months of unspoken words and missed opportunities. 

She stepped closer and still he couldn’t move. “Earth to Ash.”

“Hey.” He looked behind him, taking in the open pair of barstools, past the pile of emu vomit on the ground, and set his shoulders. “Do you want to grab a drink? Not Bloody Mary’s?”

He could barely focus on anything else as they settled down at the bar and waited for their drinks. The dim lighting made her seem shadowy, gauzy, as if she were floating in and out of his daydreams; he had to shake his head and take a swig as soon as the beer was placed in front of him. It seemed like she was already so close to fading away, back into her normal life and out of his reach.

“I wondered if we would find you.”

Her voice brought him back to the present, and he shrugged a shoulder. “Vegas is a small place for a local. Also, the four of you cause so much trouble it was only a matter of time.”

“Courtney causes so much trouble.”

“And you’re right there with her.” The smile was impossible to stop. “I seem to remember you getting into trouble all on your own.”

“And I seem to remember you bailing me out a few times.”

“Don’t need to do that anymore.” He winced as the words came out far more bitter than he intended.

“Ash? Why are you…?” She put her hand on his arm and he inhaled sharply, as even that simple touch sent his mind spinning. He pulled away, needing a bit of distance, any distance, something to give him space from the memories of another bar, just like this, another time when he wondered if he would ever see her again. She sighed, watching him, dark eyes cautious and waiting, before she leaned in again to aver, “You know I missed you.”

He had to turn away so she wouldn’t catch his eye roll. “You stopped texting me but it’s ok, I get it.”

“I’ve been working on some things, Ash. I’m sorry but-”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged, lifting his glass. “It’s all transient. You know how it is.” 

“We had something real. You know we did.”

“Aren’t you getting married!?!”

“WHAT?” She stared at him. “To who? What?!?”

“To Reed? The doctor?” Ash shrugged, turning away from her to hide his face. “I saw you at the chapel. And it’s your Bachelorette Party. Congratulations.”

A hand on his cheek turned his face, so he could see Mandy gaping at him. “Reed? Wait, what? No, no, no. He’s here for the wedding, too. Courtney is getting married.”

“Wait, Courtney?” Any happiness he may have felt at the implication that Mandy might be fair game was supplanted by his shock. 

“Yeah. To Mario.”

Ash was so glad that he hadn’t taken another sip of beer because it would have ended up splattered on the marble of the bar. “The MAGICIAN?”

Mandy shrugged. “I think it’s good for her. She needs a bit of stability in her life.”

“I agree, but a magician named Mindblaster is the stability here?” Ash couldn’t stop the scoff.

“Ok. So it’s not a ton of stability.” Mandy smiled. “But they really are a great fit. And she’s happy.”

“Huh.”

She caught his eye. “And I’m not getting married.”

“I see…” It felt like the air had left his lungs. “So, are you saying you’re single?”

“I don’t know about single…” Ash felt his face fall as Mandy looked up at him, curiously. “There is this guy I like….”

He turned to face the bar, grabbing his beer. Of course.

A hand on his arm stopped the bottle halfway to his mouth. “You fool. You know my type. Japanese-American street performers?”

“Pretty niche, you know.” He had to smile ruefully, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. “You remember you left him behind, right?”

She swallowed. “Ash… I’m moving to Vegas.”

“What?”

“My firm has a rotation program for high potential lawyers.” She looked at her hands. “I was selected and get to work with a top partner at a different branch across the country for nine-month trial period. If it goes well, I might have a permanent position.” Finally, she raised her head to meet his eyes. “It’s a big career opportunity. And I requested to come to Vegas.”

He carefully placed the bottle on the bar. “Are you serious?”

“Starts in two weeks. I want to be more than a tourist here. My career is so important to me, Courtney’s moving here, but I mean…I was hoping you…”

He cut her off with his lips. He just couldn’t stop himself from kissing her, pulling her close so the bar stool tilted and she was supported by his hands on her waist, her thighs against his, reacquainting himself with her lips and her tongue and the small of her back and the soft noise she made in the back of her throat and how her hands clutched his jacket as if she was afraid he would vanish.

Pulling back, he had to grin, eyes tracing over her face, the soft look in her eyes. He’s had some big wins in his life but this one takes the cake. 

“And here I was, thinking of moving out East.”

“Wait, what?” She was still so close to him and he watched the individual lashes surrounding those beautiful eyes flutter as she gazed at him.

He shrugged, feeling bashful. “I missed you.”

“Well, you’re lucky my type is extremely rare back home.”

“Your type....” He couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. “Tell me all about this street performer you like. Total hunk, right?”

“No one says that anymore.”

“Dashing hustler by day, fearless mafia fighter by night?” He smirked and leaned closer, drawn to the smile playing around her lips; it called to him, to his every cell, urging him closer.

“You legit peeled away as soon as we got shot at.”

“With an amazing sense of self-preservation?”

Finally, her grin broke into a wide smile, beaming across her face, and burned into his brain. “Oh my God, shut up and kiss me again.”

So he did. Nine months of this with a chance for more? That’s a gamble he’d take every time.

.

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Perma Tag: @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard @desireepow-1986

This Mess: @tinypenguincheesemachine, @lizeboredom 

[shadowdianne]

Hi 🙂 Prompt: SQ - magic lessons and realizations. Maybe something about their magic blending and shared consciousness?

Not featured: Me mutteringfor 20 minutes straight about different magic tropes present in multiple booksabout this and how the show worked -not really- their own magic system into thelore of the show.

Thanks for the prompt W,hope you like it 😉

“You needto focus.”

“I’mfocusing.”

Reginaglared at her from the other side of the clearing, certainly not amused andobviously not believing in her. Which, as much as it pained the blonde, wassomething the older woman had every right on not doing it as Emma knew she wasn’tbeing entirely honest herself.

Yes, shewas focusing just like Regina had asked her, but her mind was unable to trulystay where she had been asked to be, her consciousness jumping back and forthfrom Regina’s figure to the fact that they, after so long, were finally doingthis once more. She had given up any hopes on having another magical lessonfrom the brunette and the fact she was having that chance made her giddy,almost alarmingly so.

“Emma.”

She heardthe growl and heard the inflection, the way Regina’s lips divided her name intwo, the “m” lengthening, the “e” breathy and airy in a way that made herswallow as she felt the telling cramps on her fingers, the way her magic beganto take its hold. It was a mere mirage, she knew that; a way her magic wasanswering to the veiled presence of Regina’s. But, rather than walking awayfrom it, she followed that call, the sudden overpowering energy traveling upher ankles, up her torso, coiling around her heart and bursting through herneck and shoulders in a far too scorching wave.

She cranedher neck and shivered a little, the air around them growing hot and heavy eventhough the chill breeze kept on blowing from above the tree line, coloring theair with the mix of their burning magic. It was precisely that difference, hotversus cold, what elicited a series of goosebumps down the back of her neck andthe underside of her arms as Regina circled closer, her footsteps light butincredibly obvious to Emma’s ears. Almost, she thought as she licked hersuddenly parched lips much slower than intended, as if the brunette was walkingon top of shards of glass with those impractical high heels of hers insteadthan mud and leaves.

Not like shetruly complained; closing her eyes and focusing on the faint scent of ozone andtart-like odor she had learnt to link to Regina, Emma could feel her own lipsparted in a silent gasp as the power of her magic, the one she was calling forwardto the forefront of her mind, grew blindingly on her mind’s eye. All-consuming,ever-present, she could feel every line of power running just below her skin,cursing through her every vein in a raw way that made her tremble, afraid.

She couldfeel herself spiraling; she had very rarely focused on her magic as she wasdoing now; calling forth the power and throwing it had been her modus operandiever since she had learnt she had magic; not thinking on how it worked, how herbody reacted to it. It had been a conscious choice, one she had taken as timeon learning that was ever-dwindling. Even during her dark one days she hadremained carefully blind to the power burning on her wrists and chest; notwilling -maybe not able even- to look at that part of herself that still feltalien and so different to the perception of the woman she was that she had had beforeStorybrooke, before everything.

The feelingof her magic, of what it felt, was just too much and she took a step backwards,temples throbbing, as she tried to blindly reach for the mental brakes, unableto see anything else but blinding white, cracks made out of static electricity bitingher flesh and making her flinch. She needed to stop; now. Otherwise, she wouldnot be able to exist… to breathe.

Herthoughts petered out the second her mind began to sink as a gentle hand touchedthe small of her back, warm fingers soft and light on her overheated skin, theticklish sensation they created as her thoughts immediately cleared out notbothersome but something she found herself drinking on. Fingers that curled andsmoothed the loose fabric of her top with tapping knuckles, the crackling stormof her magic transformed into a gentle summer storm, each drop a point the powerused to filter out and reach for that other energy; warm yet welcoming. AndEmma found herself at loss as she opened her eyes once more in one quick motionas she rose her chin, gasping for air as Regina’s presence at her immediateright – left hand curled on her back, touching her, her body heat and breathingwhat she found herself leaning into, simply accepted the raw storm and took itwithin her; giving back just as much.

Yet, whereEmma’s rain was constant but messy, Regina’s felt like a gale that circled themboth as it cradled them both together, robbing Emma of any possibility to speakas she gasped yet again, unable to say anything else as she felt Regina’s powerentering her. Purple coloring her skin as sparks settled just on the corner ofher body, sinking on it just as quickly, it binded itself together to her in aflurry of power that elicited a far too nervous chuckle from her.

Her chucklewas met with a hum and a soft laugh, one that made her all too aware all of asudden of the shifting tendons on Regina’s neck, on the way her brown eyes werefilled with a mix of purple and dirty white that made the blacklight thatalways seemed to be there, illuminating the brown, seem almost lavender silver.A hue, Emma quickly learnt, that she loved on her.

“That’s it.”She heard, and she felt herself preen as her knees buckled, energy stillrumbling, still traveling from one to the other in an infinite circle Emmafound herself greedily leaning into; wishing for more. “You are doing it, Emma.Just focus.”

And, underperhaps other circumstances, Emma would have chosen to remain blind and deaf tothe slight blush on Regina’s cheeks, to the way her voice felt raspy, almost amoan away from a whimper. One that she too could feel growing on the back ofher own throat, clutching her heart, draining her lungs as she swallowed andeverything she was able to focus on was Regina. Regina. Regina.

And shecould feel the purple and darkness, the lessons imparted with hate and anger.She was able to feel the intoxicating properties of magic, the ones Reginaalmost never spoke about, the kind of thoughts that had consumed her many yearsago now barely ashes of a fire that fed on something else entirely. She wasable to feel her own version of magic; its architecture less complicated, morestraightforward, more simple, more plain. But it still was a roaring fire andshe could feel Regina swaying at her side, enveloped by it in the same way shecouldn’t tear herself away from the sheer, pure sensation of having her everyfeeling assaulted by magic; Regina’s magic.

At theirfeet, static kept on being poured, the magic drops creating rivulets thatfloated and sank, the scent of ozone simply getting stronger the longer theyremained standing, close enough but not enough, hair floating and lips tenderin the afterthought of something Emma ignored what it was until she could feelher hands moving up, up, up.

They weren’ther thoughts alone what motivated her; her vision fragmented and curling onitself as Regina’s brown eyes focused, her own throat bobbing up and down.Something that Emma’s green fell into, tongue already heavy against her teeth,thoughts derailed as she considered on moving in that precise instant, drawlines on the column of her throat with her teeth and saliva.

And thereit was, more, the more the magic -their magic- asked, demanded. A price Emmafelt far too ready to give as she knew it had been what she had wanted to doever since the very beginning; before destiny and prewritten ink wrote chaptersof a story she had known that it wasn’t truly for her. It was the more, she thought,that she could also see on Regina’s eyes; the pained want, the longing need.

And then,as she could feel hands on her hips, pulling her forward, fabric bunched andskin hot, she also could feel her fingers treading through soft locks, magiccrawling up her cheeks, veins colored purple and white. And it was just toomuch.

With acrack, Regina stepped away, the clearing coming into focus the second her magicfiltered out, the thunder and lighting present between them fiddling out in aplume of smoke as she stared, silent.

“What was that?”

But she knew,of course she knew, and the second Regina smiled at her, Emma knew she wasgoing to have much more than a simple magic class from now on.

 A03 Version

[cookieswriting]

Can’t Be Happening, Final Part (SEAL Team)

“Okay, are you sure you’re still comfortable, babe?” Stella asked softly, leaning over him on the bed.  Clay gazed up at her, unimpressed.  Even though he’d been released to go home, switching confinement from one bed to another did nothing to help his cabin fever. “You have been home all of three hours, don’t give me that look.  I’m going to make some lunch for you and Sonny, I’m just making sure you don’t need anything so you’re not trying to get up while I’m in the kitchen.  I’ll bring your next round of meds with your food.”

“Sorry,” the blonde murmured, sufficiently chastised.  “I’m good, Stell.  Just looking forward to the day I can get this sling and cast off, and these damn stitches out.  I can’t get comfortable to save my life, and basically being an invalid is for the friggin’ birds.”

Stella combed her fingers through his curls and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.  “I know...I can’t imagine how much you’re going crazy being stuck in bed, but the more you push yourself the longer it’ll take to get back out with the team.  I’ll be back in a minute.”  Clay nodded, and Stella headed out into the kitchen, smiling warmly at Sonny sprawled on the couch snoring.  

In the week since Clay had welcomed her back, the team had slowly involved her more in the planning for his recovery as she regained their trust, though Sonny had been the toughest egg to crack.  It wasn’t until the Texan had walked in on her snapping at Clay about easing up on the rest of the team for their reservations about her that Sonny seemed to finally accept that she was back for good; she knew part of his anger towards her had stemmed from his own misplaced guilt, and it felt good to earn his trust in spite of everything.  For the man to be sleeping spoke volumes.  The rest of Bravo was grounded for the time being, and had established a rotation for staying with Clay at all times.  Stella herself had taken leave from school, and was able to be with him consistently (much to the dismay of her parents, who had been quick to say ‘I told you so’ when she’d finally answered their calls following the hostage video) to help his teammates keep him off his feet.

Quietly as she could, Stella began gathering supplies for sandwiches.  She’d just started setting everything up when she was startled into dropping the lunchmeat by heavy pounding at the door.  Sonny was on his feet in an instant, gun raised as though it had been in his hand the entire time he’d been sleeping.  Without a word the older man glance back and gestured for her to go to Clay, and she complied immediately.  Her boyfriend was, unsurprisingly, trying to push himself up with his less-injured shoulder.  Stella closed the door behind her with a sigh.

“Lay back down, this is why the guys are on rotation.  Sonny’s handling it.”

The sight that greeted him when he opened the door sparked anger in Sonny’s gut, and the fact that the man tried to shove past him - completely ignoring the gun aimed at his face - had the Texan ready to pull the trigger just for spite.  Steeling himself against Ash Spenser’s attempt to come into the apartment, Sonny smoothly tucked the gun away with one hand and planted a hand on Ash’s chest with the other.  “Uh uh, I don’t think so.”  The gray-haired man tried to smack his hand away unsuccessfully, indignance burning in his eyes.

“You are going to let me see my son or-”

“Or what exactly, Ashland?  I really hope you don’t think you actually intimidate me...no way in hell am I letting you in this apartment without Clay’s all-clear.”  Without another word, Sonny shoved the man backwards and shut the door, bolting it as Ash started pounding on it again.  The Texan growled under his breath; they’d all known it was only a matter of time before the elder Spenser showed up, he just hadn’t expected it to be within hours of Clay being released from the hospital.  Shaking his head, Sonny pulled out his phone and sent a text to Jason before heading into Clay’s room with a soft knock.

Stella was sitting next to him, hand on his clavicle to keep the younger man back against the pillows.  Both looked up, Clay’s face paler than he’d seen it in days.  “What’s up, Sonny?”

“What’s up is that you need to relax before you pull a stitch, you’re startin’ to look whiter than that sheet.  Daddy dearest is here, didn’t take too kindly to me tellin’ him he wasn’t allowed in.  I texted Jase, he should be on his way and I’m sure he’ll get the others here too, considering how much of a fuss Ash is gonna kick up.”

Clay dropped his head back against the headboard with a sigh.  “He’s not going to leave until you let him in, Son...might as well get it over with.”  Once again he tried to sit up, and once again Stella stopped him.

“Sonny’s right, babe, just the effort of trying to sit up has drained you.  You need rest, and that’s the last thing your father will let you have.  Let your team handle him.”  She smiled affectionately when he had to visibly work to keep his eyes open, proving her point and forcing him to obey.  “Stop fighting it.  Sleep,” she insisted, nails skimming along his scalp again in a soothing manner.  The SEAL sank into the mattress involuntarily, weakness and her ministrations stealing away any remaining hold he had on consciousness.

“Well damn, teach, I’ll have to remember that for future use...never seen him rack out so fast,” Sonny teased lightly, ignoring the faint sound of Ash knocking again.

Stella chuckled, settling Clay into a more comfortable position.  “First of all, if you ever attempt that and it works, I do not want to hear a word about it.  Second of all, pretty sure that was more his body telling him enough was enough than it had anything to do with me.”  Sonny gave her a skeptical look in response.

Jason Hayes turned the corner to Clay’s apartment fighting to maintain his calm; he’d heard more than enough about his youngest teammate’s father over the years, both as the disgraced former SEAL who wrote a book, and as the man that left Clay with intense daddy-issues.  It shouldn’t have been surprising that he’d show up on his son’s doorstep...but the Bravo Team leader wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle the man rationally after how close they’d come to losing Clay.

When his eyes landed on Ash Spenser in person for the first time, a rush of protectiveness hit him like a Mack truck.  The older man turned at the sound of his steps, face already flush with rage.

“Let me see my son.  Now.”  Well at least they didn’t need introductions, if the man assumed his connection to Clay before Jason had even approached.  

“Now is not a good time, getting him home has taken a lot out of him.”  Jason crossed his arms over his chest and straightened to his full height. Ash cowered subtly, but refused to budge from the door.  “How, exactly, did you know he is home?  His rescue wasn’t made public knowledge, let alone the fact that he’d been brought back Stateside, or released from the hospital for that matter.”  He made a mental note to bring this to Blackburn’s attention.  “I know for a fact that none of my team contacted you.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” the elder Spenser questioned smugly.  Jason clenched his hand under his arm to keep himself from punching the smirk off his face.  

“Because we believe in something called loyalty, and doing whatever it takes to protect our own.  Where Clay is concerned, that includes keeping you the hell away from him while he heals.”  He uncrossed his arms and stepped into Ash’s space, satisfied by the way the man flinched back in to the door.  “Let’s not pretend this has nothing to do with the fact that Clay was the subject of a POW ransom video.  After all, where were you when he was in a helo crash, or took a sniper round to the chest and lost his mentor in the same night? Couldn’t be bothered to go out of your way to check on him then, could you?”  He shook his head, wondering if his words were even making a difference.  “You don’t get to come around and suddenly play caring father because your son was on television.”

Ash became almost purple at his words, and attempted to rise to Jason’s challenge. “You know what? Fuck you, Hayes.  Where were you when all of this happened to my son?  What exactly did you do to stop those cartel assholes from taking him in the first place?”

“I was in the helo with him, and Clay saved my life,” Jason snapped, prepared to go to battle until the door opened behind Ash and Sonny slipped out into the hallway.

“Keep it the hell down, would you?!” he hissed, coming alongside Jason against the elder Spenser. “Your son was taken while defending his brothers, and nearly died to protect his country.  Now,” he growled, eyes flashing with the dare to argue, “his real family is going to get him back on his feet.”

Ash stared between the two, a growl rumbling in his chest.  His attention was drawn away from the SEALs in front of him, though, and Jason smirked.  The door directly behind him opened and he felt Derek’s imposing presence at his back, while the remaining members of Bravo (Davis included) rounded the corner together, Ray carrying a case of beer, Davis and Trent with bags of groceries and Brock keeping a loose grip on Cerberus’ lead.

“As I said, now is not a good time,” Jason repeated firmly.  Ash opened his mouth to respond, but snapped it shut again when Clay’s door opened.

All eyes turned to see the too-pale, hunched-over blonde subject of their argument, better arm around Stella’s shoulder and the brunette’s hand braced against his chest to keep him upright.  Clay seemed surprised to see everyone at his door.  Finally the elder Spenser deflated, recognizing that he was hopelessly outnumbered...and that Jason Hayes was ultimately right.  It was clear that his son was surrounded by far better family than he’d ever had in the past.  “It’s good to see you safe, son.  I’ll leave you and your team to it.”  Cerberus growled as Ash sulked away.

As soon as they were sure that Ash was gone, the entire team rounded on Clay to reprimand him for being out of bed with only Stella to keep him upright.  “What the hell, Spense?” Trent chastised, passing his bags to Stella and taking her place smoothly as Clay’s support.  “If you tore any stitches, I’m gonna kick your ass.  Let’s go, on the couch...give you some change of scenery from staring at a ceiling all day.”  Jason bumped fists with Derek, giving him a thankful smile, before joining the rest of the team in the apartment.  They moved around the apartment as they did on missions - like a well-oiled machine.  Even Stella and Davis maneuvered with the rest of the guys seamlessly; Trent had Clay propped on the couch with a chair at his feet, shirtless and bandage pulled back for inspection.  Sonny and Davis prepped snacks while Brock and Stella brought in extra pillows and chairs so that everyone could settle in for a movie night.

As he stood leaning against the door for a moment, Jason thought back on the fear and rage at seeing their youngest beaten for the world to see, of the vengeance the team wrought when they found him, of the relief when the doctor said that he would make a full recovery and eventually be back to full fighting strength.  The blonde in question met his eyes, and Jason watched several emotions pass through those baby blues: distress over the presence of his father, exhaustion over pushing himself too hard, relief over the rallying presence of his team, his brothers, Stella...gratitude that they stood alongside him, in front of him against the man that had caused him so much pain in his lifetime. Their gaze was broken when Stella tucked herself in next to Clay, opposite Trent, and drew her boyfriend’s attention.  She rested her forehead against his for a long moment, murmuring something softly to him and earning a tired smile and tender kiss in response.

“Yo, Jay, you just gonna stand there like a creeper or you gonna help bring the snacks in?” Sonny called, winking when the team leader looked over to him.  Jason complied silently, and the team took their places in a protective circle around Clay.  As the beginning credits rolled, Jason glanced over to see him fast asleep between Trent and Stella, head resting on her shoulder and their fingers loosely tangled together.

[halfbloodglader]

You Don’t Believe Me? (Thomas)

Thomas x Reader - 1,277 words

Request; Thomas x reader where he shows up in the box but he says your name (kinda like how Teresa said Thomas's) and everyone looks at you. After that you try to avoid Thomas because he claims that u two know each other - he pulls u aside and admits that he knows you and loved u before the maze but u don't remember him at all so it's super angsty? Sorry if it's pretty confusing

The first thing he saw was the blinding light of the sun as it flooded down upon him from above. Boys shouted and hollered, though he still couldn’t see them. A strong pair of hands grabbed him and pulled him upwards, throwing him into the ground.

Stunned, the boy looked up, his eyes now adjusted to the light. His heart stopped.

“Y/N?” He gaped, voice staggered as he was lost for words.

The Glade fell silent as each and every boy looked to the only girl. After a moment, she girl looked to her friends completely speechless, shrugging her shoulders.

“You know this shank?” Alby boomed.

“N-No.” Y/N snapped back defensively as she pushed her way through the crowd, disappearing into the deadheads.

The brown haired boy remained on the rough ground, staring in the direction which Y/N had disappeared. He felt awful—appalled by everything going on all around him. He couldn’t even remember his own name, yet he remembered her. There was no denying it.

“C’mon, greenie.” A voice with an accent rang out, his glance completely dispirited. “Name’s Newt. Time to give you a tour.”

The new member of this so called Glade followed the blonde around briskly, his head always on a pivot looking for the Y/H/C haired girl he’d seen before.

“So what’s the deal with Y/N? She’s the only girl here? Her name is Y/N, right?” The brunette abruptly asked as Newt was in the middle of a detailed explanation regarding toilet usage.

“What’s go you in such a buggin’ plight over her?” Newt crossed his arms in irritation.

“She’s the only thing I can remember—wouldn’t you be a little curious too?” The greenie questioned, even though he already knew his answer.

Newt huffed. “Look, leave her be a while, yeah? She’s probably taken aback by you suddenly blabbering out her name, and needs time to think about it.”

Though he didn’t want to, he agreed with the blonde and followed him around for the rest of the tour. The entire day, he’d caught glimpses of the girl here and there, but was never able to catch a second glance. She was either very elusive, or as his memory suggested, was good at going unnoticed when she wanted to.

Newt knocked on the door of what he called the ‘medjacks’ before proceeding inside. When he did, a pile of supplies clattered to the floor. It was Y/N.

The greenie raced to her side and began to help gather the medical supplies. When everything was cleared, she raised her head to thank the helper, eyes then widening with a kind of resent.

Y/N set her things down and staggered backwards shakily, making a break for the door.

“Y/N— wait!” The boy cried out, only to have his arm gripped tight by Newt. “Oh c’mon.” He threw his head back in frustration.

“I said give her time.” Newt reminded with a stern voice.

Only a few hours had passed, and the boy had witnessed the giant fissures in the walls close, been thrown into the dirt a few times, and finally remembered his name.

Thomas. That was his name. Now, he remembered two things. His name and hers.

Thomas ambled anxiously around the bonfire where boys all joked and laughed, watching them make futile attempts to approach the girl. She sat beside the fighting ring, tending to an endless stream of wounded Gladers. Thomas figured her job was a medjack, which came as no surprise to him. He could remember her in the WICKED compound, always having to patch up her own injuries as she fought her way to be better than the rest of the boys. The thought made him smile.

Not entirely sure of what to do, Thomas sat a ways away from Y/N, but kept her in sight. When there was no one else around, he was going to talk to her. He had to.

And sure enough, his opportunity arose. She fixed up the last boy who seemed in need of medical attention and Thomas sprinted over towards her. He picked her up off of the ground and covered her mouth, looking to her with pleading eyes to be quiet. She nodded in suspicion.

Thomas carefully lead her towards the medjack hut and sat down on one of the beds beside her. At any moment, it felt as if his heart would explode. He had no clue what to say, now questioning if his memories were even real. But they were so vivid, it felt like he could feel them.

So, he reached for her hand. Immediately Y/N jolted back with a sharp breath escaping her.

“I need to be sure it’s you.” He said with a pair of devastated eyes which she knew held truth behind them. She rest her hand back down slowly, letting Thomas take it in his own.

That was how he knew his memories were real. Her hand was familiar to his touch, just as he’d expected.

“So, have you been following me around because you wanted to touch my hand or is there something else you’ve brought me here for?” Y/N asked sarcastically, trying to not let her fear override her systems.

“Y/N I remember you. I know you. I—“

“Thomas you haven’t a single idea of who I am.” She forced.

“I remember that I love you.” Thomas admitted, his voice weak, body trembling. If the girl didn’t know better, she’d imagine he was in a great deal of pain. And maybe, he was.

The girl shook her head and lowered her eyes bashfully. “Thomas, I’m sorry, but I’m just like everyone else here. I don’t remember anything, and for someone to come here and tell me that—“

“Are you saying you don’t believe me?” He asked, feeling completely betrayed. He knew deep down that he couldn’t blame her for not remembering, but how could she not? He remembered. A memory like that can’t just be taken, can it?

“N-No!” She sat forwards in defence. “But how am I supposed to, Thomas?”

The sound of her voice saying his name shot shards of glass into his already bleeding heart. “I-It’s me! I swear!” He shouted, barring his teeth.

“How do I know you isn’t just the creators messing with me more than they already have?” Y/N whispered sharply, furrowing her brows and lowering her head.

Thomas stared into the once so familiar eyes of the girl. The fire he saw burning in them was now nothing more than a pile of ash. Whatever the people who sent them here had done to her was enough to wear the strongest person he knew to the bone. Tears began brimming in his eyes. They weren’t tears of his own sadness or weakness, but of sympathy, knowing that she might never remember who he once was to her.

All he could hope was that there was a difference between not being recognized by someone and them forgetting. He prayed that there was something stopping her from recognizing him, not that he’d been completely removed from her memory and her heart. She needed some time to think straight. She needed a moment in her own space. So, she left the medjack hut without even saying goodbye.

It was in that moment which Thomas decided he was going to become a runner. He was going to find a way out. And he was going to find a way to get Y/N’s memories back, no matter what it cost him. All he wanted was for her to remember.

[negans-network]

Pull My Hair Part 3 - Step Into My Parlor

Summary: For @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash and her 2nd Negan Writing Challenge, this is for the hair-pulling kink prompt introducing OFC Susan.

Word Count: 5097 (Sorry, I got carried away)

Warnings: Foul language, Sexual References, Language, Imagery and Smut

Author: @genevievedarcygranger​

Susan had deemed it prudent to take a nap while Negan was gone, that way she would be well rested enough for round two by the time Negan were to come back. What she hadn’t expected was to sleep through the night until the next morning in Negan’s bed, not even waking when he came back and then left again in the morning. He had thoroughly worn her out last night with that too-good orgasm. When she woke up alone, she was mildly embarrassed, but also chalked it up to catching up on the too few hours of sleep she had out on the word. On Negan’s bedside table, he left her a new bra, her panties, and the little black dress – and a plate of pancakes and eggs, which she devoured. Susan smiled at his thoughtfulness, happy that he kept his word and remembered to bring her a new bra. Hopefully, this one would fit her right.

And fit her, it did. Susan was pleased and felt very sexy, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Making up Negan’s bed, Susan found that she had missed this mundane chore from her old life. Wandering to the bathroom, she looked for a hairbrush but only found the comb that Negan used for his own hair. It was greasy with product, and Susan remembered how his hair felt in her grip and curled her toes at the thought. A knock at the bedroom door started her out of her thoughts, and she hurried to answer it, knowing it probably wasn’t Negan anyway since why would he bother knocking on his own door.

She was right, it wasn’t Negan. It was a brunette in a black dress: another wife, she supposed. “Hello Susan, I’m Sherry.” The two women stared at each other, comparing each other obviously, and Susan felt woefully inadequate. Sherry was taller, thinner, skin fairer. Susan felt like a mess. After a moment, Sherry continued, “Negan asked me to introduce you to the others.” There a pause, and nothing but silence. Sherry sighed.

Briefly, Sherry stepped into the room, invading Susan’s personal space. Susan had to strain her ears to listen to Sherry’s lowered voice as she whispered, “Look for your sake, I’m hoping you did this for protection, not out of selfish desires, because now that you’re a wife you can never leave. Ever. Don’t even try. He will find you, and it will not be pretty.” Sherry stepped out of the room, walking away. “Please follow me to the parlor,” Sherry called back over her shoulder.

Head-spinning, Susan had little choice but to follow, padding on bare feet after her. Sherry’s steps were more confident with the click-clack of high-heeled stilettos, and Susan found that she didn’t like Sherry. There was just something about her that decidedly irked Susan. Even the way she said parlor – who even used the word parlor – deeply bothered Susan. It was like that old nursery rhyme.

“‘Will you walk into my parlour?’ said the Spider to the Fly.”

Why would Sherry tell her those things? Why was she so unhappy? Was it because she was jealous that there was another wife taking up Negan’s time? What was her deal? Why did she had such a chip on her shoulder? Did she suspect that she was planning to leave? Was it that obvious?

Once they reached the parlor, Susan felt like she was dipped in ice as soon as she stepped in. There were four other women and all of them were definitely more beautiful than she was. Susan was starting to suspect that it was her ballsy nature that earned her the position as wife. There were three other white women, besides Sherry, and one black woman who remained aloof, flipping through her book and generally not paying Susan any mind. Susan appreciated that. After all, she wasn’t here to make friends. The three other women, though, openly stared at her.

Sherry announced her, “This is Susan.” Sherry gestured to the other wives as she introduced them. “Susan this is Amber,” she pointed to the blonde and youngest-looking woman ��Frankie,” she pointed at the bottle red-head, “Tanya,” she pointed at the last white woman, “and Michaela,” she pointed at the black woman.

Frankie, Tanya, and Amber were all sitting on one fancy couch together, drinking wine and dining on fresh fruit. “Why don’t you go and join them, Susan?” Sherry suggested, a bored look on her face.

“Well, where are you going Sherry?”

Sherry’s look was frosty, mean. “I’m going to go get a smoke.” With that, she left, and Susan was glad that she was gone.

A little shy, Susan walked over to the three women, unsure of herself. At her approach, Amber looked up and looked smug. She finished off the rest of her wine, and left soon after Sherry, waving goodbye to the two other women. Wondering if it was something she did, Susan looked over at the two remaining women for answers. “Don’t mind, Amber, she’d just going to get a snack,” Tanya assured Susan. For a moment, Susan was reassured, but then Tanya and Frankie looked at each other and snickered, and Susan was back to square one.

“Well, aren’t you going to sit down?” Frankie asked her. She patted the space that Amber had just vacated. “Sip some wine and talk to us. We’re bored.”

Susan now remembered one of the benefits of being alone; that is, she wouldn’t have to deal with catty group dynamics like this. Still, she did as Frankie suggested, and reminded herself not to make lasting friendships, though that didn’t seem like it would be a problem.

“So, tell us about yourself. There’s hardly anything new to talk about.”

Susan glanced between the two women and decided that drinking was going to be a must when she was with them. “Well, there’s nothing to tell. I lived a normal life like everyone else before the Dead rose. I was an advocate for protecting the environment. Since the end, I’ve kinda been on my own, surviving. Now I’m here and this is nice.” Susan shrugged.

Neither woman seemed to care that Susan’s life story was so lacking. They both just took dainty sips of their wine and followed it up with popping grapes and strawberries in their mouths. “I was a licensed massage therapist,” Frankie continued proudly, tossing her hair. Susan couldn’t help but notice that the color obviously wasn’t natural, and she wondered if it was a special request to find her particular hair-dye.

“Hey, I bet Negan likes that,” Susan commented and used Amber’s abandoned glass to pour herself some wine. “Your license isn’t going to expire anytime soon since you’re putting it to good use.”

 Frankie laughed, though her eyes betrayed how she really felt, which was a little shocked. “Yeah, you’re right. Negan loves it. You know, it kinda makes me wonder, though, why he would want you.” From where she sat, Susan stilled, and then grabbed a bundle of grapes for herself to eat and to busy her hands. “You wanna know why I became a wife? Well, it was originally just me and Tanya. We were the first two. We couldn’t stand each other and we were constantly fighting for Negan’s attention until he finally decided to have us both. He gave us the terms and conditions, and we said why not share him so long as there were two of us.”

 “But then,” Frankie interrupted, “He brought Michaela home to the parlor. We had known Michaela, she was one of us here in the Sanctuary. In exchange for being a wife, she gets treated like a queen and no longer has to work for points. Once he brought her home, he broadcasted job openings to all the other women here. Amber joined us so that she would be able to take care of her mother comfortably.”

“When her mother died, though,” Tanya picked the story back up, “Amber didn’t stop being a wife. She loves to live in the lap of luxury. She likes being spoiled like a princess. She hated living on the point system. Even with Mark – ”

 “She doesn’t have to know about Mark,” Frankie butted in again, shooting Tanya a dirty look.

 Susan blinked rapidly, trying to process everything. “Okay, what about Sherry?”

 “Sherry?” Tanya giggled, and Susan wondered if both girls had imbibed enough wine to get tipsy. “Well, she’s different. She’s here because she loves Dwight, not because she loves Negan.”

  “Yeah, she doesn’t love Negan like we do,” Frankie spat and then shot her dirty look at Susan pointedly.

 “I’m sorry,” Susan found herself apologizing under Frankie’s unfriendly glare. “I don’t understand, though.” Faintly, Susan remembered hearing about Dwight getting his dick bit. She wondered if this had anything to do with Sherry’s earlier behavior, too.

  “Dwight and Sherry ran away. Negan got upset with them for stealing. They came back and begged for forgiveness, but Negan was gonna kill them.” Tanya freely shared the gossip, explaining everything away. “You know, he has to make an example of thieves. To save their lives, Sherry offered her hand in marriage, and Negan saw that she was pretty enough and said yes.”

 “But not until he has burned Dwight’s face, permanently marking him in shame and dishonor.” Frankie said the words as if there were performed in a speech, and Susan didn’t doubt it.

Sitting back in her chair, Susan took a larger gulp of her wine, trying to process everything. She knew this community had to be a little screwy since it was under Negan’s management – and Negan had multiple wives and didn’t seem like a Mormon. But this took it to a whole new level. Just another reason for her to leave, though, now she had to be doubly sure to never be caught. But love Negan as a wife? He is a great fuck, but she doubted she ever would fall for him. Still, she could pretend well enough and that should suffice.

“Ladies,” Negan greeted them as he stepped over the threshold and into the parlor. Susan sat up straighter for him, feeling like shit next to the other girls. Michaela seemingly ignored Negan, but Frankie and Tanya immediately simpered their hellos at him.

Walking over to where the three women sat, Negan smiled at them all, though his eyes lingered last on Susan. “Frankie, Tanya, how are my #1 and #2 girls?”

“Much better now that you’re here, Negan,” Tanya batted her eye lashes at him, and Frankie twirled her red hair around her finger. “Are you in the mood for a massage, baby? Or just some company?”

“You know, I am in the mood for some quality time, but that will be with #6 here if she’s agreeable to it.” Negan winked at her. “But where is #4 and #5?”

“Sherry stepped out to smoke,” Susan answered him, and she saw his eyes darken. Frankie and Tanya shook their heads, burrowing their noses in their wine glasses to hide their giggles. “Oh, did I just get her in trouble?”

“No, not exactly, Susan.” Negan’s voice was soft. It was a nice change in pace to have a wife that didn’t try and deliberately sabotaged the others. “I don’t approve of smoking. Makes you taste like shit and I don’t like it. Besides, if she goes and develops lung cancer, we don’t have the medicine to treat her, now fucking do we? But she can fucking smoke if she wants to, I just won’t fuck her.” Susan formed the connection in her mind then on just why Sherry smoked. “What about Amber, Susan? Did you see where she went?”

“Um,” Susan’s eyes sidled towards her compatriots, but they avoided looking at her. She knew that dropping Mark’s name meant nothing good, so she went with what they told her. “She went to go get food?”

Negan hummed, seeming to approve. “Well, would you like to get out of here then and go fuck the shit out of each other?”

This time Susan didn’t bother to hide the fact that she glanced at the other wives. Similarly, they ignored her, and she took note that Frankie’s fist was squeezing the wine glass so tightly that her knuckles were white. “Okay, Negan, let me ride you then.” She looked up at Negan just in time to catch his proud grin before he took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. He practically dragged her out of the parlor after that in his eagerness, and Susan didn’t bother waving goodbye to the other women. They weren’t her friends, so why should she care?

On their way back to Negan’s bedroom, they didn’t meet anyone, and Susan tried to pay attention to the route so she wouldn’t get lost. If she was going to leave, she needed to know her way around. Negan looked over his shoulder at her and Susan guiltily started. He only smiled at her, though, and she immediately calmed, though her heart did beat faster for much different and altogether more pleasant reasons. “Remind me to get you a pair of heels,” was the only thing he said. Then he dragged her inside his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Alone at last and again, Susan wasted no time in slipping her panties off and kicking them across the room. They landed somewhere on the couch, but she didn’t care. She immediately moved in to get another kiss from Negan, though she had to restrain herself from digging her fingers into either his beard or hair again or she would never stop tugging and yanking so needy-like. Instead, her demanding fingers unzipped his jacket, and she shucked it off his arms in one fluid movement. Negan was laughing into the kiss, the chuckles more like sharp breaths from his nose as he continued to kiss her, allowing her to undress him.

She did continue to undress him since she didn’t get to see him bare last night. Her hands yanked his shirt free from his pants and she skipped his shirt in favor for his belt immediately. Unbuckling him blindly made her fumble a bit, but soon she heard the satisfying hiss of his belt sliding out of the pants’ beltloops. She popped the button free, and unzipped his pants, part of her tempted to go ahead and reach in and feel what she would be working with. But part of her wanted to be surprised, so instead she pushed his pants down as far as she could without breaking the kiss. Negan obediently kicked his pants the rest of the way off.

Pleased that he was letting her do this, Susan continued to push her luck. She gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged, impatiently. For once, she broke their shared kiss, ordering him, “Lift up.” Negan snorted, but did as she said, and Susan pulled his shirt up, exposing his flesh from stomach to chest. Halfway through taking off his shirt though, she got distracted by his alluring happy trail. More importantly though, she had to stop halfway through because she lacked the height to complete the movement and get the shirt up over his head. “A little help please,” she bashfully asked this time, and Negan shot her a knowing look before he grabbed the collar of his shirt at the base of this neck and pulled the shirt off over his head.

“Remember how I told you to remind me about the heels? Well, make sure I also get you really fucking tall heels,” Negan joked, standing shirtless before her. Susan ignored his teasing in favor for examining him. She was right to think that he was slim, and though he didn’t ripple with muscles, she liked how deceivingly strong he was. He could lift her effortlessly after all. For another, though, seeing him so slim she realized that he was a wiry kind of muscle, lacking clear cut definition. That didn’t bother her, though. In fact, what she liked best was the generous sprinkling of chest hair over his pecs, swirling temptingly around his nipples she’d love to kiss, before forming a strip of hair that pointed straight to the prize that was his blooming erection hidden in his boxers. She hummed appreciatively, but she did have one concern. Back in the parlor, she had been showing off the other wives as she promised to ride him, but now she was scared. Negan was such a slim guy, and she was more than a little worried of crushing him.

“As much as I love being admired for the fucking magnificent fucker I am, I think you’re a little fucking overdressed for this occasion.” Negan stepped forward, and – in a movement that was quickly becoming customary between the two of them – tugged her hair to tilt her head back for eye contact.

Catching his eye, Susan bit her lip, still mulling over if he was going to make her keep her promise for a ride. So far, he had kept his promises to her, so it would be unfair for her to do otherwise. “Well, unzip me then.” She turned her back to him to show him the zipper, and she moaned and melted when he took her hair and swept it out of the way so he could reach the zipper. Negan had such a way about him, the way he twisted his wrist so that her hair was wrapped around his hand, and the tug so sensuous for being just enough pressure – well, Susan was glad that she had went ahead and tossed her panties away since surely, they would be soaked by now.

When he had unzipped her enough, the black dress loosened from its form-fitting mold around her body and slipped off like shedding a second skin. Unrestricted, Susan lifted her arms back to unhook her new bra, but Negan gently pushed her hands away. “I take it this fucking bra gets the job done then?” He snapped one of the straps before he fluidly unhooked it.

Pulling the bra off and tossing it in the same general direction as her panties, Susan answered him, “Yes, thank you for getting me another one, Negan.” She carefully stepped out of her dress, turning back around to face him. Since this was the second time he had seen her naked, she was a little more confident now.

“Well, you’re fucking welcome, Susan.” Negan used his grip on Susan’s hair to pull her closer to him, and he embraced her, going again for another kiss. Susan briefly wondered how she could stand here and kiss a man who was going to kill Sherry and her husband – who burned Sherry’s husband’s face. But then she remembered everything she has done, and was bitterly reminded that she was no saint. Pushing that unpleasantness aside, Susan instead decided to focus on how sweet Negan could be with her, so caring and generous. Sure, he wasn’t a Prince Charming, but this was as good as it gets at the end of the world. And it was good enough for Susan since she knew there would be no love.

Breaking their kiss again – one of Susan’s new least favorite of Negan’s new fasted growing habits with her – Negan trailed his lips down her neck, finally going to leave hickies. Again, he used the grip he had on her hair to pull her head to one side, providing easy access to her neck where he could reach this one sensitive spot just behind and below her ear. Moaning wantonly in his ear, Susan’s hands finally came up and gripped his hair, stroking through it and petting him softly rather than yanking. Her passion levels weren’t quite at the yanking stage yet. “Mm, now who’s wearing too many clothes?” She reminded him about his boxers.

Straightening up, lips leaving her neck from where he had laved deliciously wet kisses, Negan pulled away just far enough to look in Susan’s eyes. Mischievously, he tugged a little on her hair, and Susan moaned immediately, pupils dilating wide. “You’re fucking right, Susan, though, I seem to fucking remember that you made me a fucking promise. You promised you would fucking ride me, huh? So, we gonna fuck each other’s brain out or what?”

Nervously, Susan gulped, searching Negan’s eyes to see how serious he was. “Okay, Negan, go sit down and take your boxers off then.” For courage, she stole a quick kiss before bossily pushing against his chest in the direction of the couch. Looks like they would break the bed in another day it seemed.

Susan was more than a little envious of Negan as she watched his stumble back to the couch to take a seat. Despite his lankiness and long limbs, he still managed to make falling back into the couch look elegant and sexy. Eagerly, she watched as Negan hooked his fingers around his boxers and shoved them down his legs without preamble, kicking them aside without a care.

As soon as his member was freed, Susan’s eyes were glued to it. Zeroing in on his erection, she stepped closer for a better examination. Though Negan himself was slim, his erection was decidedly thick, thicker than she expected from someone like him. It was long, in proportion to the rest of him, and if she could give an approximate measure, she’d say that he was about ten or so inches. Without thinking, she grabbed the erection, taking note of how she was only able to enclose her fingers around it because she had as her mother dubbed ‘piano fingers.’  Experimentally, she gave him a few tugs, enjoying how his skin was like velvet and extremely hot. His erection was hard yes, but pliant to her movement as she bent and twisted her wrist, smoothing his beaded precum over the rest of him to make the ride easier. There was one particular vein that throbbed on the underside of his erection from base to head. If she were to taste him, she’d never stop licking that vein – but she would save fellatio for another day.

“Damn it, Susan,” Negan impatiently groaned, watching her play with and pleasure him equally, “are you gonna fucking ride me to hell or not?”

Startled out of her thoughts, Susan blinked up at him before she remembered herself. “Sorry, it’s just been a while since I’ve seen such a pretty cock,” she honestly admitted to him. She gave him a rueful sort of smile, still apologetic, though her hand didn’t stop tugging on his member. Susan yanked cock as well as she yanked hair it seemed.

Now Negan had heard his dick be referred to in many ways. It was hard, it was big, it was too big, it was salty – pretty standard stuff. But pretty? That was new. Was he necessarily opposed to the compliment? No, but in his mind, he didn’t think that cocks could ever be called pretty. But he just found another reason he liked Susan. He took ahold of her by the waist, urging her to clamber onto his lap. “Come on and ride my huge fucking pretty dick, then, Susan. I know you want to. Shit, don’t I fucking want you to.”

Thrown a little off-balance by Negan’s urging, Susan clumsily straggled his lap, nearly knocking her head against his. Well, not exactly nearly – she did bump her chin against his forehead and he hissed. It didn’t hurt her as much, but in apology she kissed the spot. Carefully, she balanced herself on him, one hand gripping the back of the couch while the other hand held his cock steady as she rubbed herself up and down him, liberally spreading her juices over him so he would slide in so much easier. Panting, Susan momentarily forgot just why she was rubbing him as she instead deliberately humped her engorged clit against the head of his dick, seeking her pleasure.

Beneath her, Negan groaned and writhed, thrusting his hips up into her hand and beating his dick against the sensitive outside of her pussy. “Come the fuck on, Susan, lemme get inside of your pussy.” One of his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her down and closer, and one hand buried itself in her hair at the back of her skull, fisting the brown tendrils and pulling until her head was tilted all the way back, preventing any more possible concussions between the two of them.

Finally, Susan quit her teasing and sunk down onto him impossibly slow so that she would have time to adjust. Immediately, her hand shifted to his hair, and she twisted it in her fingers, giving as good as she got. For every time he yanked her hair, she would yank back and fuck him harder as she bounced on his lap.  His grip on her hair made her a slave to his touch. So long as he kept pulling, she would do whatever he wanted, and with every tug she bounced on him, and moaned louder.

 Of course, Negan loved this as much as Susan did, and quickly set a fast-paced rhythm for her to follow. Yanking her head back, she was entirely exposed from throat to chest, and Negan took his freehand and formed it to one of her breasts. “Finally, I get to fucking touch and suck these glorious fucking tits.” He swiped his thumb over her nipple and slammed up into her at the same time, loving the combination of hot pussy on his dick, soft tit in his hand, and silky hair wrapped around his fingers. “I can’t wait until I get to ping-pong my dick over your titties, Susan.” He yanked one breast to his mouth and laved the nipple, sucking hard as he maintained the staccato rhythm of his hips and yanking her hair with his other hand.

 Meanwhile, Susan moaned, tears developing in her eyes as the tugging at both her breast and hair brought delicious pain. Her neglected breast ached for his attention, needy and wanton, but her pussy was being filled and stroking that one spot so right that it was a paradox of feelings. It felt so fucking good to be fucked, but there was a sting developing inside where Negan was bottoming out against her cervix. She loved it all, though. Every time she slid down his cock, her clit slammed into his pubic bone, his pubic hair an added rough texture that was like striking a match to get it to burn. There was this fire building, and she was almost there, but not just yet. Almost, almost.

After torturing one breast long enough, Negan switched to the other managing to keep his grip through his teeth as he cruelly tugged on it, Susan not helping due to the force of her bouncing. He snaked his hand back down to her rear and gripped her hip, fingers pressing hard into her ass cheek to leave bruises as he made her move even faster and harder. He steadily pulled on her hair, not relaxing, and it felt like she was tearing his own hair out by the root – but he enjoyed it nevertheless because he knew he was doing this right and encouraged to do more.

 Continuing to kiss her bouncing breasts, Negan knew that she was going to develop a burn from his beard, hickies on her neck from his kisses, bruises form his hand, and she’d probably not be able to walk properly. God, did she bath his dick in pussy juices as she was so wet that she gushed, creating a suction. At the back of his mind he wondered where he should put his cum, insider or outside of her? Maybe she would like to swallow him up or wear him proudly on her face? The thought of a facial alone made him even more excited and he planted his feet hard on the floor and pushed up to meet her stroke for stroke. He knew that if he slipped his hand forward and pressed his thumb against her clit while simultaneously yanking hard, she would cum for him beautifully. Lifting his hand to do just that, he impetuously smacked her ass while he yanked her hair again – and Susan immediately coiled around him so tight and orgasmed that Negan nearly did, too, hips stuttering.

Susan’s orgasm surprised her as well, her moan more like a shout of his name. The force of her climax pushed his dick out as she was in mid-stroke upward, and though Negan was left bereft of pussy, he came also by surprise, spraying his seed over her stomach in three or four quick bursts.

 Climbing down from her high, Susan sat back on his knees, shaking and quivering from aftershocks. Negan collapses backwards against the couch, releasing his grip on her hair. He threw his head back, sighing, groaning appreciatively. Well, that had never quite happened before – climaxing from being spanked just once. Susan’s hands fell from his body, grabbing at the couch to keep herself study. She didn’t seem quite as surprised as him, just overall satisfied. “Fucking wow, Susan, you are kinky as shit,” Negan informed her when he could speak.

 Eyes glassy and sated from her orgasm, Susan collected his cum on her stomach before it could dribble down on him or his couch. “I guess,” she sucked the cum off of her fingers. “You like that, though, don’t you, Negan?”

He laughed and gave her a sleepy sort of smile, cock already stirring at the sight of her licking up his cum. “Of fucking course, Susan. What kinda fucking dumbass question is that? You are hot as shit, kinky as fuck, and you’ve got huge fucking lady nuts like goddamned volleyballs. What’s not to fucking like about you?”

Though she knew it was a rhetorically question, Susan thought of all the stuff she hated about herself, and then shrugged. “Plenty, but I’m glad I please you, Negan.”

 Negan chuffed at her, “Nonsense! Fuck me if you’re not fucking perfect, Susan. Tsk, tsk.”

“Well give me two minutes and I will fuck you, Negan.” Susan teased with a half-smile, one of the first she’s given him. Now the tables were turned as Negan admired her smile for once, and as a first, Negan had no smart come back. He could do nothing but smile back at her with all of his teeth and sincerely with his eyes.

[awedbyhersplendor-blog]

1 or 2 and either miranda x abigail or ashebones, for the au fic meme! Whatever catches your fancy!

Hey, thank you so much for this prompt! Unfortunately, it unleashed something in me and here you are, a 4,985 words answer later… (As my dear friend Alex said to me this morning: if you go over 5k… But I didn’t! Aha!) 

Oops, i forgot to include the prompt aha: 1: I’m a private detective hired to follow you, but you’re endearingly boring and mostly I just like watching you and oops, I sort of find you adorable.

So it’s a vague hard-boiled detective AU. Lile, I haven’t watched that many noir detective movies, but sadly enough to inspire me. Carol inspired me, as well (it always inspires me tbh) and you might find it nice to listen to the Carol soundtrack while reading it? It’s from Billy’s POV and has… hints to both ships. It’s rated T. And it has, as usual, a lot of unnecessary context and world-building info!  (Please see the tags for info about Mlle Vinteuil, it’ll make sense I promise)

I hope you like it nonetheless! =)

“Listen, Billy, I’m up my ass with this Flint guy, I can’t go into another investigation,” Silver explains, as if repeating it would make the proposition more reasonable.

“I’m still 6��5,” Billy answers, “which is a slight disadvantage when you have to follow people around.”

“It’s not about how you are, it’s about how you act! Just…. look cool, relaxed, like you just happen to be here, no big deal. Plus, I’m fairly sure everyone will be so taken in how you look that they won’t pay any attention in what you’re doing.”

“This was not why you hired me,” Billy insists because Silver has this tendency to lie to people to get them to do what he wants them to.

“I know, I know, Billy, but look, this Ashe guy is loaded, and following his daughter can’t be that hard? I’m sure she just has a boyfriend who’s not to Daddy’s tastes so she sneaks out after class to make out somewhere. You just have to find her, follow her around for a week, give us a schedule and some pictures of her and her boyfriend and then we’ll find out more about him, his name, and  his address. Then Daddy will take care of him, like send some goons to cut off his balls, not that’s any of our concern, and she’ll maybe find a new secret boyfriend that I will track down myself since I’ll have killed the Flint guy myself…”

Silver is stressed out, Billy recognize. He hasn’t slept the last three days and he’s only still standing thanks to the sheer power of coffee, cigarettes, and his obsession for their latest client.

Not a good time for him to handle more cases. Billy sighs. Investigation is very different from being the intimidating muscles in the background, making sure people who need to sit still actually sit still, throwing the occasional punch, and the general keeping the books business, but he should be able to do it. Just a small one-week job, no big deal.

“Alright, fine, I’ll do it. But don’t fire me if she spots me,” Billy accepts.

“Good, perfect!” Silver nods and pats his shoulder before taking up some of the papers littering his desk: “So this is the girl, Abigail Ashe…”

Billy knows he should pay more attention to what Silver is telling him but he just can’t. The girl on the grainy black and white photograph looks… beautiful. She has long dark hair flowing over her shoulders, a very conservative skirt and a light sweater. She’s not looking at the camera but appears to be talking with a teacher, revealing only her profile and just how rounded her shoulders are. Her glasses are sitting on the cutest nose Billy has ever seen.

“… where she has dinner with her father every week on Sunday… Oh well, you look like you’re already doing your job quite well…”

“Sorry, what was that?” Billy blinks twice before looking back to Silver.

“The ‘don’t leave her out of your sight’ job,” Silver teases with his too-big-for-good-news smile.

Billy mumbles something about hating his job and leaves with the picture and Silver’s notes.

***

The next day, Billy sits in his car in front of the university, doing his best to look inconspicuous. He has some books on the passenger seat to make it look like he’s a student and his pen and notebook add nicely to the part. He scribbles some notes on the page but he is actually scanning the crowd of students leaving after their last class, discussing in pairs or in larger groups.

There are many girls that look like Abigail Ashe but none of them are her.

She looked so discreet, like she was trying to make people forget she was here in the first place, that Billy is afraid he’ll miss her. He doesn’t know why, but he knows he wouldn’t forgive himself if he missed her.

He doesn’t. Miss her. He spots her, books in her arms, glasses on her nose, hair carefully tucked behind her ears. She’s talking to some other students, all girls. One of them, the one who seems to be doing most of the talking, is a tall blonde girl, the one on her right looks at the blonde girl with a smile and a raised eyebrow, and the last one has sable hair and a bored look on her face. They don’t stay in front of the university very long however, and soon they start walking down the streets, still talking to each other. Billy swears under his breath and gets out of the car. He can’t follow them through the crowd by car, so he’ll have to walk and do his best to blend in. He’s still 6’5.

He feels like the worst kind of creep following them but he can’t tear his eyes from the way Abigail Ashe’s hair bounces with every step. Once, he thinks he hears her laugh in the middle of the chatter of the crowd and he feels like he’s looked through a secret window.

They all turn in a smaller street where Billy can’t follow without immediately being noticed. He continues walking but remembers the name of the street. He walks all around the block and notices the street is actually an arcade that has several bookstores, cafés, and art supply stores (he feels pretty stupid for having missed it but he tells himself his focus on Abigail Ashe is justified). It isn’t crowded or noisy. It feels quite calm, like an afternoon at the library on a hot day. Billy takes his time walking past the stores. Some people look at him, but he still has his notebook in hand so they don’t stare much. Some girls do, but not the girls he had seen with Abigail Ashe.

Some books may or may not have caught his eye. He sets a slow pace so he can take everything and not be too obvious by coming to an abrupt stop when he finds Abigail Ashe again.

A voice catches his attention. A deep feminine voice, calm but assertive. It’s slightly louder than the rest of the noise and Billy can hear it coming from behind him. He pretends he’s looking at the books in front of him, picks one up and opens it, while he uses the window’s reflection to look behind him.

There’s a woman, a professor no doubt, sitting at a table on the terrasse of a café. She has a book in her hand and a cup of tea in front of her. She is addressing the group of girls Abigail Ashe left with. And here she is, again. Her hair is in the bun this time, and she’s sitting a little away, two people between her and the professor, but she is watching at her with rapt adoration, taking notes sometimes. There are two other girls in the group, a brunette and a ginger. They don’t look like students, but they’re completely accepted and the professor answers their questions with just as much patience.

Billy nearly jumps when the shopkeeper asks him if he’s going to buy the book he’s been holding for a while now. He feels himself getting embarrassed before he can think about keeping his composure. He can feel the group of girls in the café looking at him. He hopes he hasn’t blown his cover. He buys the book and only after does he realize it’s an English translation of Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust.

He knows nothing about Marcel Proust but he keeps the book in the pocket of his jacket as he goes to meet Silver at their usual bar to report what he has found. Silver asks for any sign of a lover but Billy shakes his head. Silver strokes his moustache, smiling to himself before paying for his drink and leaving him to go home.

***

There is no lover. There are no parties. There are no illicit substances. There are no secret communist meetings. There is nothing that could warrant Peter Ashe to be suspicious.

Abigail takes the bus to university at the same hour everyday. On Thursday, she is a little late and has to take the next bus. She frets for a good five minutes before settling down and reading a book at the bus stop. Her father is so rich he could probably have someone drive her there but she always takes the bus.

Billy parks his car a little further up the street and pretends he’s waiting for the bus that goes in the other direction. She never seems to notice him but then again, she appears to spend most of her time reading. Sometimes, as he sits here, waiting for her to arrive, he tries to guess what she’ll wear and how she’ll do her hair. Winter is fading into spring but she doesn’t seem to be ready to relinquish big fluffy sweaters and tights. Mornings are still quite cold, Billy agrees, wearing his own grey sweater. Once, she had her hair in a messy braid, and Billy has never seen something that lovely.

She takes the bus to university and Billy can follow her on campus, sometimes. He reads Swann’s Way in order to be discreet. He tries not to read too much when he’s home so he’ll have some to read on campus, but then he realizes he can’t really focus on it when he’s looking all around for her. She has lunch with her friends, the same ones she had been at the café with. They talk animatedly about politics and philosophy and writers Billy has never heard of before. He knows the names of her friends now: Eleanor is the blonde girl who apparently has a tempestuous love life with several people, Madi seems to be Abigail’s closest friend, or at least they agree on most things. Madi doesn’t seem to be interested in even having a love life. Idelle, the girl with the sable hair has a lot of lovers, too much to call it a love life, she says, especially since she doesn’t seem to love any of her partners, except for that one man, but that doesn’t matter to Billy. Abigail rarely speaks during these conversations but she’s teased about it sometimes and she always says: “I want to wait for the right one.” to which Eleanor always replies: “There’s no right one, just pick one you enjoy looking at.”

Billy will never forget the first time he heard Abigail’s voice. He’s never heard anything so soft and so melodious. It sounds like the soothing tide of the sea and, in a very strange way, like the spots of light the sun makes on the grass under a tree. Once, Billy reads his novel, imagining how it would sound in her voice.

After her classes, she heads to the library. She has a favourite seat by the window, which is very good for Billy since he can’t enter the student’s library. Once, someone took her seat but she didn’t protest, just sat on the nearest available chair. She always puts her hair up at this stage of the day. Billy wishes he could see what she is reading.

She studies there for three hours, sometimes more if she finishes her classes early. Then, she leaves, sometimes forgetting to put her hair down, and walks to the bus stop, her books in her arms. Once, on Wednesday, a man had started following her to the bus stop, but she never noticed him because Billy had taken him by the collar and slammed him on a wall in the nearest alley before swearing he would cut off his balls with his bowie knife if he ever saw him again.

Then she gets homes and Bill can’t really follow her there. No one can, actually, the Ashe palace is guarded like Alcatraz, so whatever lover Ashe is worried about, he wouldn’t break in the Ashe property just to sneak a girl’s room. You would, Billy’s traitorous mind supplies, you would break in if Abigail said she wanted to see you.

***

On Saturday evening, Silver makes him drink to forget how unsuccessful his hunt is going so far. “That’s how the job goes,” Silver says, “most of the time it’s boring as hell. The rest of the time, you’re flirting with the hearse. No middle ground. Ashe will sleep a little easier knowing that his daughter is the perfect little student most parents don’t even dare dream about!”

Billy doesn’t agree with Silver’s derogatory tone but he lets it go. He hasn’t slept well this past week and the alcohol is going straight to his head. He knows he should be careful about what he says.

“I wonder what made him worried in the first place,” He asks aloud to himself.

“Well, you still have one day left to discover,” Silver answers with his signature shit-eating smile. “You know, even God took a break on the seventh day. Maybe perfect little miss Ashe will too.”

***

Billy doesn’t know what Abigail Ashe does on Sunday, how long she stays in bed, where she goes, if she takes the bus, or is driven around… So he decides not to take any chances and sits in his car by the bus stop at the usual hour.

He’s reading the last pages of Swann’s Way, doing his best to keep an eye out for her.

He feels quite torn about his last day on the job. On the one hand, he’s glad he won’t have to follow her everywhere. It made him feel like the worst kind of creep, intruding where he’s not wanted, observing things not meant for his eyes. He’s sure he isn’t supposed to know the way Abigail closes her eyes when she drinks her steaming tea during breaks, or how lovely she looks when she pulls her hair up, always forgetting some locks of it at the base of her neck.

On the other hand… He will miss her. He hopes no one ever follows her to the bus stop ever again. He hopes no one ever hurts her. It’s foolish, he knows, but he just wants her safe.

Abigail walks to the bus stop at the usual time. She has two books in her arms and a backpack.

She is wearing a dress. It covers her neck and shoulders but falls slightly higher than her skirts usually do. The delicate eggshell blue colour of it contrasts so wonderfully with her pale skin. Her dark hair is flowing freely with the cold morning breeze. She looks a little nervous, or impatient maybe.

Billy tries not to linger on how his heart feels in his chest as he realizes this may be it. The day Abigail leads him to her lover.

The bus arrives and Billy follows it. Abigail doesn’t disembark at the university, as she usually does. She goes all the way to the terminus. Following her is torture for Billy. He feels his palms get sweaty and his knuckles turn white as he grips the wheel tight. His heart beats too loud and too quick in his chest and each beat hurts.

He wonders if he’s going to be able to follow her all the way there. If he’s going to have to look. He doesn’t think he can. He wonders how he’s going to tell Silver and Ashe. He wonders how her lover will look like. How he’ll touch her, how he’ll speak to her.

How she’ll smile when she sees him. How she’ll hold his hand and kiss him.

Billy wishes he had bought something stronger than coffee. But he can’t drink on the job. Wherever Abigail Ashe is going, he’s going to follow and do his job. And then he’s going to tell Silver he’s never following anyone ever again. He thought he could keep his head on his shoulders for a week, no matter how pretty she was, but… He hadn’t been ready to find her so… adorable. She’s young and rich and beautiful, and yet here she is, taking the bus, drinking her tea with a hint of honey, and going to the library to read with the rest of the students. He feels like Ashe set them up on her trail because he cannot conceive a young rich pretty girl not taking advantage of her privileges. He feels like Ashe doesn’t really know who his daughter is and would rather waste money hiring private detectives than talk to her and realize how amazing she is.

But maybe this is only a cover and he’s about to see what’s under it. Maybe Ashe was right. Maybe something is going on.

Abigail Ashe takes another bus which goes through the suburbs, passing rows and rows of depressingly uniform houses with real white picket fences. Billy does his best not to wonder what Abigail Ashe envisions for her future. Does she want a picket fence house? Is that why she’s taking that long bus ride? Does she like exploring all the parts of town? Does that make her feel free?

But Abigail doesn’t get off the bus until they are past the suburbs, and nearly entirely out of the town. There, the houses are sparser, their yards bigger. Even the air seems purer, colder, more breathable. The houses look costly, but not in the modern minimalist glass and steel way the Ashe palace is. Billy parks his car in the first abandoned-looking gravel road and walks back where Abigail had got off the bus.

His heart hasn’t stopped beating too loud in his chest and he has to wipe his palms on his thighs with a grimace. He’s suddenly afraid that Abigail is taking all those buses to find a lover she is not supposed to have. He can already see him: a rich partner of her father maybe, able to afford one of those houses for the week-end or for a day, preying on young girls with lavish expensive gifts and smooth slicked back hair before doing unspeakable things to them.

I can’t let that happen, I can’t let that happen, Billy thinks and, before he knows it, panic threatens to take over.

Breathe, Billy has to remind himself forcefully, breathe and focus. He lights up a cigarette to have an excuse to stand in the street. Abigail crosses the street in front of him, looking right and left. She seems to hesitate for a moment and Billy feels cold sweat on the back of his neck, afraid that she has recognized him, that she knows and she’s going to go away, lead him somewhere else. But she just goes on her way and opens the gate of one of the houses. She rings the doorbell and waits.

Billy returns to the gravel road, adrenaline thrumming in his blood, and battles with muddy little tracks and low-hanging branches to get to the house through the back garden. His camera is beating his chest under his jacket. He doesn’t want to use it, but if anything were to happen to Abigail, at least, he could have proof. Proof the man he would probably kill with his bare hands deserved his fate.

He finds the back garden and looks through the French windows just in time to see Abigail climb up the stairs, holding someone’s hand. Her backpack and her shoes are abandoned by the door. Billy looks around him, thinking as quickly as possible, finding a tall tree to climb. There, he has a full view of the bedroom through a smaller window.

The door opens and…

The professor.

The professor Abigail had met at the café with the other girls.

She leads Abigail in the room and closes the door behind her. Abigail latches on her, taking her face in her hands to guide her in a long and passionate kiss. The professor’s hands go to her hair, combing it back, holding on to it as she deepens the kiss.

Billy immediately lowers his eyes. Abigail obviously isn’t being forced into anything and the professor isn’t mistreating her in any way. They’re just… two adults enjoying each other in a way that society condemns. He has no right to spy on these intimate moments. He climbs down the tree as discreetly as he can, trying to focus on his movements.

He doesn’t know how he feels.

It is true, the professor is a beautiful woman and he can understand how anyone might be taken with her. He’s rather glad Abigail Ashe’s lover seems to treat her right, but he can’t help, he just can’t help feeling heartbroken. He had been too taken by his silent guardian role all week and he has forgotten that, maybe, Abigail didn’t need to be guarded from everything. That Abigail didn’t even know who he was. He had no right to feel heartbroken over a girl who doesn’t even know he exists.  This was work, for God’s sake.

He’s starting to walk back to his car when he realizes he’s going to have to say something to Silver and to Ashe. If he lies and Ashe discovers anyway, they’re in for unpleasant times. He could tell Silver, but then Silver would make him go back and bring evidence. Pictures. Billy doesn’t want to take these pictures, he doesn’t even want to see what was never meant for him.

He can spy on drug deals, a husband cheating on his wife with a much younger girl who’s just here for the money, anything, anything at all, but not two people loving each other against the entire world.

He needs to think…

***

“So she took two buses to meet with a teacher she already sees at the university during the week?” Silver asks, looking at the pictures.

“Yes, but apparently, they have a sort of more relaxed discussion…class… sort of thing? Here, you can see, Miss Ashe is grading papers with her, so maybe she’s a sort of assistant?” Billy explains, trying not to shift on his feet too nervously.

“Like a student too taken by her professor to realize the professor is making her to do all the stuff she doesn’t want to do…” Silver fills in. “Great, that’s what we’ll tell Ashe, he’ll be happy and the rest of the paycheck will finally fall!” He adds with a knowing smile.

Billy frowns but he doesn’t have the time to say anything before a ginger tornado of rage rushes in, slamming the door, nearly breaking the glass.

“What…” Silver starts but is interrupted by Flint pushing Billy against the wall with impressive strength. Not many men can boast about being able to push Billy around.

But before Billy can react, Flint starts shouting at him: “You lowlife bastard! If I catch you even breathing in the vicinity of Miranda or Miss Ashe ever again, I’ll have your body dumped in the bay! Who do you gutter-dwelling rats think you are?! They have no role to play in this! They’re minding their business so you better mind your own!”

Billy is too surprised by this man, a good head shorter than him, shouting threats at him in his own office to react, so he lets Flint shout and point at him menacingly.

Silver has to hold his arm to stop Flint from going too far. He’s shouting over Flint: “Stop it! You don’t want to draw attention to you right now! Stop shouting! Let him go! Goddammit, James, are you trying to undo everything we’ve been working on?”

Flint seems to settle down at this, but he’s still breathing hard, murder in his eyes as he looks at Billy in disgust. Silver, for a moment, is too surprised by Flint actually listening to him to speak, but he gathers his wits quickly: “You know Miss Ashe.” He states.

“I do. She’s Miranda’s protégée.”

He doesn’t need to say it. It’s better he doesn’t say it in case anyone happens to follow him or one of them is recording it, and hears anything incriminating.

“Did they see Billy? How did you find him?” Silver asks again with great patience. Billy tries to ignore how seeing Silver concerned makes him feel.

“He dropped this in the garden, by the oak tree.” Flint answers, pulling out Billy’s copy of Swann’s Way out of his jacket. He pushes it to Billy’s chest like a blow. Billy grabs the book. He had thought it had fallen under the passenger’s seat. He had looked for it all over his small flat but had half been glad he had lost it. He wasn’t sure he wanted anything to remind him of Abigail Ashe. “Miss Ashe said she remembered seeing a very tall man with short blonde hair around Miranda’s house on Sunday when she visited and she said she thought she had seen him somewhere. Since I hired you, I figured you might have wanted to do more snooping around than I asked you to, just in case the other side is more profitable. If they’re dragged into this and what happens to Mr Hamilton happens to Miss Ashe, I’ll gut both of you, consequences be damned!”

Silver has to restrain Flint again, clutching at his arms until his knuckles turn white: “We didn’t know! James, we didn’t know! Ashe came and asked us to follow his daughter. We thought nothing of it. We haven’t even called him with the results yet.”

“Oh, so there are ‘results’ now? Tell me, did you enjoy spying on them, you…”

“James, for fuck’s sake, stop yelling at Billy before I’m finished! He’s trying to protect them!” Silver intervenes. Flint falls silent, frowning, first at Billy then at Silver.

Silver waits a moment before letting him go, making sure he’s not going to assault Billy as soon as he’s released. Silver gives him the pictures and the notes Billy has given him. He gives it all, without reserve, to the man who could destroy it in a minute. Flint looks at the pictures, skims through the notes, hands still trembling from barely repressed rage.

“Billy was just telling me how Miss Ashe fancied herself the professor’s assistant and did some extra work at her house on Sundays. She might want the secrecy because she’s afraid how her father would receive the news of his only daughter doing extra work for an openly feminist professor. Look, Ashe won’t even notice she’s wearing Miranda’s shirt in all the pictures,” Silver explains, throwing Billy an amused look. He should have known better than thinking he could fool Silver. “So now that you’ve seen everything and you know what we’re going to tell Ashe, we’re going to the diner downstairs to have coffee, and we’ll go over the “I’ll never let another Thomas Hamilton happen to you ever again” thing we’ve been going over for the last month. We’ll protect them, James, we’ll protect Miranda and Abigail.”

Flint seems to deflate a little. He sighs and nods. Silver pats his shoulder and mentions for Billy to take the evidence from him: “Billy please make an appointment with Ashe, I’ll be downstairs.”

Flint has the grace to mumble a “Sorry for assaulting you” before letting Silver lead him out.

Billy sits in Silver’s chair and rubs his face as the panic winds down. He had been tense, ready to strike, should Flint become a little too belligerent. No wonder Silver looks exhausted if he has to deal with Flint every single day…

Billy’s eyes fall on the novel in his lap.

They even kept his bookmark right in its place, towards the end of the novel. He only has a dozen pages left. He thumbs the pages idly. He wonders if Abigail had been the one to find it. How she had felt when they had told her she had been followed right to her lover’s house. It’s a bit late for that, but he hopes she hadn’t felt guilty, he hopes she hadn’t been too… disgusted… by him.

A folded piece of paper falls in his lap, making him jump slightly. He opens it and finds a very elegant handwriting in black ink:

“I am very angry at you and I didn’t want to write, but Miranda said it might help. I hope you realize you’ve walked in a very private life. None of it concerns you. None of it is yours to unveil and destroy. I have very little hope, but I would remind you that what you witnessed has hidden depths, feelings and emotions you could never begin to guess. None of it has been as easy to build as it would be easy for you to destroy. Miranda said addressing you directly would help you see us as human beings, not just as whatever cliché you see us as. I know I should appeal to your mercy, but I can only express hurt, fear, and anger. I don’t know why I should beg for a private life. Mlle Vinteuil.”

***

The day after Billy and Silver give their final report to a very relieved (and equally puzzled) Ashe, Billy finds a brown envelope on the office doorstep. He picks it up and shakes it a little. It has no return address, no name… Hand-placed at their door, then.

Billy pushes the door open with his shoulder as he opens the envelope all the same. He hasn’t really been… here.. lately. He’s been avoiding his own thoughts, avoiding himself… He reaches in the envelope and finds a book. He frowns and discards the envelope to read the title.

It’s In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower by Marcel Proust. The next novel of the Search of Lost Time.

He opens it and, on the first page, the same elegant handwriting says:

“Thank you.

James explained and I’d like to have a chance to apologize if I’ve been overly harsh. You know where and when you can meet me.

Mlle Vinteuil.”