#obviously the issue lies with his lungs but i just want to know the full extent yk...

[todayisafridaynight]

everyday i constantly think of masato's wheelchair and if that's his only one/main one no wonder he's so pissed at everyone

[chuckbass-love]

20,39,42 with Andy Barber?

Hey, lovely anon. First of all i hope you’re doing well and second of all, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this and i hope y’all have a lot of fun reading it. It’s been a hot minute since i last wrote for Andy.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Prompts Used: 

20) “You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are”

39) “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

42) “I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Warnings: Smut. Sexual intercourse, vaginal sex, spanking, daddy kink, love making (kinda), arguing, swearing, angst and a sprinkle of fluff for good measure. That’s right, used all 3. 18+ you know the drill.

Word Count: 6,796

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @cassercole go check them out���

Do You Feel What I Feel?

After a long and interesting weekend, you’re a lot less eager to get back behind your desk to work for Andy Barber than you usually are. One reason in particular being that you’ve been dating other people behind his back. See the thing with you and Andy is that you’ve known him for 2 whole years, worked for him for 1 year and been fucking him since the evening of your very first day. He got you the job to work with him after you got laid off.

You met him after he showed up for one of your seminars at college and he gave a presentation on what it’s like to be a lawyer and you just clicked. But it was strictly platonic...until you showed up on that first day dressed in a knee length skirt, a semi sheer polka dot blouse with stockings and heels. He was shocked to say the least. You looked entirely different and he’d never seen you this way before. It turned him on and he let you know it. 

As you were packing your things away and bidding him goodbye for the day, he called you back into his office and instructed you to lock the door behind you before he began to inform you of the effect you had on him. Starting slowly by telling you how he was taken aback by your ability to think on your feet, use your initiative and then just like that, it all came out and he couldn’t control his hunger much longer. 

He kissed you so hard that night that the breath was knocked from your lungs but you loved it, you yearned for more of that feeling and he fucked you so good that you made it a regular thing, without even realising it was becoming one until it was too late. You’d just show up at each others places without a warning and before you knew it, he was fucking you into the mattress and making you cum with a cry of his name.

Now back to the present... you like Andy, in fact if you’re being truthful with yourself, you’ve fallen so madly in love with him that you know it’s time to quit him. He’s like a drug, an addiction and you need to stop going back for more. Hence why you decided that enough was enough. 

You met a guy online, his name is Ashley and he was more than keen to take you out so you happily obliged and sure you had a nice time but there’s just one issue lying in your way. Andy is unsuspecting of your little date and it’s been eating away at you since said date walked you back to your apartment. You know that you need to tell him but you fear that it’ll cost you your job, he did hire you to help you out after all.

Before you can wallow more in your choice to keep things from him, he calls you into his office and you haven’t even gotten any work done yet, you only sat down 5 minutes ago.

What could he possibly want so early on?

“Yes, Mr Barber?” you ask flirtatiously, making him glare up at you before gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. Which you do.

“So today i’m gonna need you to file this paper work into the data base for me” he starts, lifting up a pile taller than the length of your forearm and now you’re annoyed for real this time. He knows full well that you’re still finishing off the stack from Friday and yet here he is presenting more work for you to do “get it done by the end of the day” he finishes, flashing you another stone cold glare as he looks back down at the paper on his desk, not even bothering to acknowledge your presence for a second longer.

Until you speak up “Andy, you know i’m still finishing off Frid....”

“That’s Mr Barber to you and you can leave now” his rude and snappy interruption makes you scoff as you shake your head at the tone in his voice, he’s not in any mood today to help you out or make exceptions. So you do as you’re told, hauling the heavy pile into your arms and lugging it back to your desk outside. Once it’s on your desk, you walk back to shut his door before he asks, making sure to slam it harder than needed to make it known that you’re angry with him.

He doesn’t seem to notice or care though.

Now to get started on all of this work that’ll probably mean you staying later tonight, just brilliant. Guess your second date with Ashley will have to be rescheduled.

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

You finish off half of the pile by the time it gets to 1:30pm and you’re due a lunch break round about now so seeing as though Andy hasn’t left his office all day, you decide to pop out for some food with one of the other assistants, Stacey. Thank God you don’t have to face him since you have absolutely no clue what could have possibly rattled his cage this morning to make him snap at you like that. The two of you have always had this ongoing joke of you calling him Mr Barber and he usually allows you to call him by his first name until today when that alone was enough to anger him.

It’s obvious that you’ll have to put off telling him about your date until he’s in a better place to receive the news. You’re hoping that since he’s always been opposed to commitment that he’ll take it well but the halt in your fooling around might annoy him a little. It’s not your problem though, he always knew you were planning to eventually settle down.

Upon your return to your desk you find Andy sat in your chair, looking through your work “where the hell have you been?” he mutters as he avoids your eyes “you know what, don’t even bother making excuses, my office, NOW” you jump out of fear as he raises his voice slightly at you for the first time in the whole 2 years you’ve known him. Your anxious body shuffles into his office, scared of what’s about to happen.

“Was i not clear enough earlier Y/N? Hm? Because i specifically remember asking you to have this work done by the end of the day. You get off at half 4, it’s now half 2 and you’ve only done half. Do i pay you to galavant around town with Stacey or do i pay you to do your goddam job?”

In the 2 years that you’ve known Andy, he’s also never made you cry, yet here you are trying your absolute hardest not to let these tears fall in front of him.

“You pay me to do my job and i’ve tried my best to get it done. I-I’m sorry” you stand there awkwardly, picking at the torn skin around your fingernails as you stare hopelessly at your stilettos. “Well your best isn’t fucking good enough Y/N, try harder. You can stay here until all of the paperwork is done and that includes Friday’s load too now close the door on your way out”

Is he actually serious? He can’t be, surely. What is wrong with him?

“No” you stand tall, hands on your hips as you talk back and if he was angry before then now he’s livid with you “What do you mean no?” he questions, stepping towards you, hands in his pockets as he awaits your answer.

“I said, no. Just because you’re in a bad mood for whatever reason does NOT mean that you get to stand here and humiliate me. I said no and that’s final. I’ll do my best to get today’s work done before i leave but Friday’s work can wait and i don’t care what nasty comment you have in store to throw back at me”

His face screws up as he clenches his jaw again, you should feel really scared right about now, that comment might have just cost you this job but you don’t care. If that’s the case then you’ll walk out of here proud of yourself along with one less so called friend in your life.

“Bad mood? I’m furious and you don’t even know the half of it” he picks his phone up, tapping a couple times before handing it to you and walking back to his desk to sit down. You watch the clip in his camera roll, squinting as you try to make out the faces in it and then you realise that it’s you and Ashley. Fuck. He was there that night at your apartment, he was obviously coming to see you and you didn’t even know it. He must have seen you with another man and changed his mind. You feel awful as you look back at him, he just sighs once you place the phone onto his desk.

“Andy, i-i”

“Save it. If you wanted to cut our little deal off then you shoulda just said. I don’t appreciate being lied to Y/N and i don’t fancy talking about it with you for a minute longer so just do as your fucking told and get back to work”

All you can do is turn around and walk away since you’ve done enough damage already. But all you can think about is the look on his face after you watched the incriminating clip. He looked sad, broken even and it’s replaying in your brain over and over. Torturing you. 

This is why he’s been so nasty today, so demanding and harsh. He’s hurt that you lied to him, hurt that you were with someone else, even if it was just dinner. You still arranged a date with another man and went and what Andy has never wanted to admit before, not even to himself is that he really likes you. In fact no, he’s fallen madly in love with you. 

Every waking moment of his life is spent with you on his mind. You even corrupt his dream world too and it’s gotten out of control. Saturday he decided it was time to cut your little deal off and start over. He was going to do it right, confess his feelings, ask you on a date and then take you out and treat you like a princess.

Ever since he laid his blue eyes on you that first time when he was doing the presentation in your class at college, he liked you. You asked so many questions, engaged a lot in the debates and he knew then that you were going to play an important role in his life. And you have. You became close friends, going out regularly and doing things like bowling and eating dinner together more than a handful of times. He enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his but there was this unspoken rule that you had to remain just friends. He wasn’t ready for anything serious and you were still not over your ex.

But then when you walked through his office door on your first day dressed in that skirt, those heels and stockings and lets not forget about that blouse. He was trying his hardest not to drool. One things for sure though, he was painfully hard for you.

When he came to your apartment Saturday and saw you outside your door with some preppy douchebag who was around your age, he felt this lump in his throat form as his heart ached. Sure he expected you to get a man eventually after all you are 24 and he’s in his 30’s. But he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. He also didn’t expect you to have such an effect on him the way you have but here he is, angry at you for moving on without telling him and angry that you aren’t his anymore. 

He feels bad for shouting at you today, for being so harsh with his words. He could see the tears pooling in your eyes right away but he was too pissed off to stop and now he’s almost certain that any friendship the two of you had is gone for good thanks to his vile actions.

Another 2 hours tick by and you’re still working at your pile, you’ve still got a lot left being that he’s included Friday’s in your load too. It’s going to be a long night so you pick your phone up and call Ashley.

“Ashley hey, it’s uh, it’s Y/N. Listen, i have to work late today so i won’t be able to make it” you announce and as he responds, Andy opens his door but you don’t notice.

“Rain check? Uh...” you trail off, trying your hardest to decide if you even want to see him again. It’s like you’re torn. On one hand you have Andy, your dream man. A man who knows your body like the back of his hands and a man who can more than likely take care of you if you just took a leap and told him about your feelings but then on the other hand you have Ashley. A guy who is your age and who makes you laugh a hell of a lot. Before you can even decide though, you hear a cough behind you. It’s Andy.

“Ashley can i call you back? It’s just now’s not really a good time, i have a lot of work to get done”

You hang up the phone as your eyes are locked onto Andy’s and the moment your phone is placed back onto your desk he wraps his large hand around your wrist, lifting you up off your chair and tugging you into his office. You watch as he locks the door behind him before going back to sitting behind his desk.

“You gonna see him again?” he asks, jaw clenched.

“I-I uh, i don’t know. I’m a little torn right now” your eyes settle on his plump pink lips, wanting nothing more than to bite down on his bottom one as you sink down onto his cock but you’re dirty thoughts come to a staggering halt as he speaks. “Torn with what? You like him right?” why is he asking you these things? Is he trying to torture himself with the details.

“Yes i mean no i mean I don’t know. I like him but i don’t think i can date him”

“How come?”

“Because i like someone else, in fact i love someone else”

Andy feels his heart sink further as more cracks appear threatening to shatter it completely. You love someone else and now he’s truly out of the game.

Rage works it’s way back into his body and he can’t help but take it out on you “did you sleep with him? Huh? Did the douche bag get to fuck that tight cunt of yours?”

At first you find him funny, laughing as you look around the room, anywhere but his eyes but then your own rage sets in.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, he didn’t. We had dinner and that’s it” you state, matter of factly as you place your hands back onto your hips..

“Bullshit”

“Is that what you really think of me Andy? You think i’d just give it up to any guy that even looked my way. Wow, i knew you were a lot of things but vicious was definitely not one of them and what’s that i smell? Is it jealousy? Surely not.” you tut, shaking your head “I don’t think i even know you at all by the looks of things if you thought lying to me was better than being honest and trust me, i’m not jealous in the slightest, in fact i pity you. It’s your sex life that will suffer” he doesn’t falter for even a second as he stares you down and just as he anticipated, you’re the first one to break, looking away from him. You can’t help the way your heart starts to race from all of the fury filling up your body. How dare he.

“I was only keeping it from you until i found the right time to tell you. And don’t you dare think for one second that just because we’ve slept together that you have any right to comment on my sex life. You made it perfectly clear that monogamy wasn’t your thing so don’t be mad when i finally want to move on from being someone’s fuck buddy” you spit, heat rising to your cheeks as you realise what you just said. Fuck.

“I’ll comment on whatever i fucking want to so quit the bitching and yeah, i don’t do commitment but i sure as hell wouldn’t be with you even if i did”

You don’t respond to him this time, there’s no quick comeback to fire his way, no insult that could mean you having the upper hand again. Nothing is left but shock and disappointment. He really said that, he really played on your biggest insecurity. He played on it and used it to his advantage, to get the upper hand and win the argument.

“What? Got nothing to say?” he snorts, smug grin on his face. Watch his smile disappear now...

“I love you, Andy” you finally get the words out and you feel as if you’re going to choke on them and die right here in his office. Cause of death, unrequited love.

“W-what?” he’s practically speechless, his words barely audible.

“I’m so madly in love with you and i have been for a while now. But i continued to shut my feelings out and reject other guys because i came to the realisation that having you in any way that i could would be enough for me even if it meant that i couldn’t have you in the way that i’ve always wanted. But none of this matters now, right? Because you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel and where you stand. You wouldn’t date me even you did date and that’s fine but at least now both our cards are on the table”

He looks up at you, using his index finger to force you to look back at him and when you do, he looks so deep into your eyes almost as if he’s attempting to see into your soul. Like he’s trying to search for any signs of dishonesty.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Instead of going out with other guys you shoulda told me and been honest about it?” is all he can say and that’s the last response you expected but what catches you off guard the most is how he said it, almost like he was hurt and relieved simultaneously.

“Andy, you’re my boss and you made it clear that you didn’t want a relationship” he has absolutely no right to lecture you about honesty when he’s spent the entire time he’s known you blabbering on about how the single life is better for him and how he’d hate to be tied down again. You roll your eyes as you move away from him when he attempts to move closer.

Silence falls upon the two of you and it seems never ending, leaving you no choice but to leave. The moment you turn around to walk away he’s on his feet too “where are you going?” the tone his voice makes it sound as though he’s pleading for you to stay without actually saying the words.

“I’m going back to my desk to do my fucking job, just like you told me to do earlier” you turn back around but just as you expected, he stops you “look. I’m sorry, okay. I was just mad that you”

“Mad about what? That i went out on a date? I’m a single woman Andy and despite our little deal, i don’t belong to you so you have no right to be mad at me for doing what any other single person does”

He bites down on his bottom lip as he runs his fingers through his perfectly styled locks, messing them up instantly “God, you’re so fucking infuriating”

“I’m infuriating? You really are clueless to your own behaviour aren’t you? I just told you that i love you and you still haven’t told me if you feel the same. So i think that says it all, don’t you?” you stop yourself before continuing your rant, trying your hardest to prevent something worse slipping out. Right now in your state, you’re bound to say things that you don’t mean and will later regret. “you know what, i think i’m gonna take the work load home and complete it there. I’ll see you tomorrow, if i still have a job that is” you raise your brows at him, praying he doesn’t fire you for your attitude alone. But to your surprise he doesn’t.

“You really think that low of me? That i’d ever fire you because of what’s going on between us outside of this office? Wow” he leans back on his desk and his shoulders drop as he slumps over, looking down at his large calloused hands.

“It’s what i assumed would happen. You’re really gonna pretend like you don’t want me gone after today?”

“I don’t, believe it or not. But i have no time to deal with this discussion any longer, i have to leave early today” he says as he goes back to sitting behind his desk again and turning his computer back on “i don’t expect you to stay any longer, you can take that work home and finish it after your date” he mutters the last few words, pulling a face as if they make him sick.

“Really? We’re back to that again. God i’ve had it with you” you spit, biting down on the inside of your cheek before strutting over to the door but his hand stops you before you even get yours on the lock.

“Let me go Andy. I don’t even want to look at you, let alone be stuck in a room with you” harsh, but in this moment it’s true. He’s done nothing but upset you all day long and even after your stupid decision to confess your love for him, he’s still doing it. You feel so defeated right now that you can’t take another second of his shit.

“Just one more thing and then you’re free to go and fuck whoever you want, whenever you want. How many guys have you been on dates with since we started hooking up?” the desperation is evident in his eyes as they pierce into yours, searching again but this time for the answers before you can even open your mouth to give them to him “one. It was only one date on Saturday night with Ashley” and that’s the truth. You would never repeatedly date behind his back, this was a one off. A one off you’re regretting more as the seconds tick by.

An awkward silence falls upon the two of you once more as he walks back over to his desk, pacing next to it and creating a draft. “Are you planning to see him again?” and he’s back with more questions. Why does he care so much?

He clearly doesn’t love you too otherwise he’d have said it once you confessed your feelings for him. Instead he left you looking like the biggest joke ever, the clown. And you feel so mortified for even believing he’d say it back.

Silly little Y/N, always catching feelings for men who don’t feel the same way back. You’re starting to feel as though you’ll never find someone.

But still his behaviour has you second guessing him. Maybe he does like you and that’s why he’s acting so hurt.

“Maybe i will, after all i am single. That shouldn’t be a problem, should it Andy?” you know full well that you’re pushing down hard on his buttons and you can see his cheeks turn red as his knuckles turn white from his tight grip on the side of the table.

“What you don’t like that? You don’t like the thought of me on top of Ashley, sinking down onto his cock as he touches my body and kis -”

Out of nowhere he interrupts you, slamming his fist down onto his desk “dammit, Y/N, what is it with you? Trying to make me jealous? Because i’ve had just about enough of you running your mouth” he pulls one of the chairs out, falling into it and spreading his legs “In fact. I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use? Huh? Maybe then you’ll shut up about that fucking douche bag” he is jealous, it’s so obvious to you now. He’s jealous of Ashley, jealous of the possibility of him spending time with you and he hates the thought of someone stealing you away from his tight grasp.

You can’t quite believe your ears or your eyes as he spreads his legs further, grazing his hand over the tent in his dress trousers and you can’t help the gulp that follows.

“Andy”

“Shhh, enough talking. I don’t have it in me anymore to argue with you, just come here” he insists but you stand your ground “no. i can’t keep going round and round in circles with you with absolutely no end in sight and with no hope for you to reciprocate how i feel. I’m sorry but i’m leaving”

Yet again, as expected, he clears his throat “fine. I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Like they always do around Andy, your legs turn to jelly and your eyes glaze over along with your better judgement being clouded by x rated thoughts of him railing you. The idea of him touching himself, working his hand expertly around his girthy cock causes arousal to flood your panties. How dare your body betray you like this. How dare your mind do the same. It’s not fair that every time you think you have the upper hand and the dominance, he comes along, snatching it away from you and proving you wrong.

You have absolutely no idea why you’re about to do what you’re about to do other than the fact that your body gravitates toward him like a magnet and it’s out of your control.

So without a second longer to fester or overthink, you spin around on your heels, charging towards him. Andy watches in awe as you drop to your knees and make quick work of his belt. Once you free his cock from the confines of his black Calvin Kleins and into your small hand you spot the droplets of precum oozing out of the slit on his red bulbous head. You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them as you give the tip a couple of kitten licks before spitting all over his shaft and pumping him agonisingly slow.

“Fuck” he groans, rolling his eyes back as he grips the arm rests on the chair when you take him into your mouth “attagirl, sucking daddy’s cock like a fucking pro” his hands grip your face as he continues to watch you go to work, making a mess of yourself as you gag around him,

You don’t bother to issue a warning before taking all of him in your mouth, all the way down to his balls over and over. Making sure to hollow out your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, your tongue licking the underside of him as your hands grasp his balls. He starts bucking his hips up, attempting to fuck your mouth but you push him back down as a whole batch of unholy sounds that only you can elicit from him fall from his perfect lips, the sounds that are so loud and downright filthy that he has no option but to cover his mouth with his hand, biting down one of his thick digits to keep from exposing himself to his unsuspecting colleagues outside.

He soon pulls you off and you do so with a pop. He forces you to look up at him, his hand grabbing your cheeks and squeezing aggressively “no matter what undeserving boys you go out on a date with, no matter who flirts with you. You’re mine, always have been and always will be” he moves you to straddle his lap before he stands up to move the two of you to the couch.

“So no more dates princess, no more other guys. Because i’m the only one who gets to have you. Is that clear?” he cocks his brow up at you and you nod in response before mumbling a quick “yes” to satisfy his need for confirmation and assurance.

He lifts your knee length dress up to your stomach before he gets to touching you, squeezing at your ass cheeks a little too hard for your liking but you secretly love the way he gets so rough with your body, the way he smacks both ass cheeks repeatedly until you wince from how sore he’s made you.

“God, these clothes drive me crazy. Ever since that first day i met you, i’ve wanted you and when you started working here, i was so desperate to fuck you as you wore these stockings and these heels. You’re so fucking hot, princess and you have no idea how crazy you drive me when you bend over, shoving this ass in my face”

He starts to kiss your neck, sloppy open mouthed kisses on the spot that has your back arching as you grip onto the back of his neck to steady yourself. He’s working you up all the more, turning the pool in your panties into a river. You’re dripping wet for him, desperate for him to just fuck your greedy pussy, desperate to clench down around his cock as he pounds into you.

“You’ve done it before Andy. Many times in fact”

His kisses halt as he smirks at you, that devilish look in his eyes. It always drives you wild “do it again, please, i need it” you beg pathetically and much to your surprise, he does exactly that. He takes your panties, tugging them to the side and playing with your soaked core a little as well as touching your bundle of nerves. You whine into the crook of his neck as you urge him to hurry before he eventually pulls his pants further down his legs to position himself at your entrance better. You don’t even have time to breathe before he’s knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks himself to the hilt inside of you.

The way his pace continues to pick up until it’s rendering on animalistic is causing you to let out the loudest and sexiest sounds, it’s like music to his ears but he can’t have anyone hearing this. He flips the two of you over so that you’re below him, your legs pushed back to your head and you hold them in place. His hand covers your mouth as he slides himself back in, not making any effort to start slow “you’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are” he continues with rough snaps of his hips as he fucks into you with reckless abandon and causing the sweet music you make to vibrate onto his hand.

“Yeah, like this? Like the way i fuck this pretty little cunt?”

Thrust

“Bet his cock couldn’t even touch what mine does to you, the way you cry out for more and scream my name every time. The way i can make you cum with just my words and my fingers. God, such a dirty little girl for me, ain’t that right, princess?”

Satisfied hums follow his questions along with a frantic nod as you feel the coil tightening in your stomach, like a knot twisting and pulling, you’re so unbelievably close that you can almost taste the impending orgasm. “Don’t make a fucking sound when i move my hand, okay?” again you nod in response and he moves his hand, smiling down at you with adoration in his eyes before moving his hand to your aching sex. His fingers pressing down onto your bundle of nerves, rubbing firm circles on it and as soon as your walls flutter around him, he knows your close.

“Gonna cum, huh? Gonna make a mess all over my cock? My filthy girl, go on baby, cream all over me”

Just like that, along with his permission you let everything go, allowing yourself to really feel the pleasure. Your walls flutter around him again and again and each time he pulls out of you he spots your juices as they cover his cock beautifully. The sight alone has his hips snapping harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours bounces off of the walls in his office and you accidentally let out a lewd moan that he swallows with his kiss as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer “cum for me daddy” your encouragement sends his entire world spinning as his thrusts stagger. 

His cock jolts inside of you, twitching like crazy before his cream fills you up deliciously, painting your walls in thick ropes. You arch your back as your arms wrap around his neck. You need to feel his lips on yours.

He kisses you so hard that your teeth clash, making the two of you chuckle into each others mouths before attempting again. This time his tongue forces it’s way past your lips, battling with yours as he rides the two of you through your dramatic and intense highs.

Once his hips still and he pulls out, he flops down next to you. The two of you are nothing but a panting mess. Chests rising and falling along with your erratic heart beats.

“I love you too” he confesses, making you gasp as you turn your head to look at his spent body, the way his eyes meet yours and tears pool in them has your eyes doing the same.

“Andy”

“I’m not finished. I’ve felt this connection with you since the day i first met you, it caught me completely off guard. When we made the deal for it to be just friends, i was upset. I wanted a lot more but i know i wasn’t ready just yet. But the way you’d draw out laughter from me that no one else has ever been able to and the way you’d boss me around only made my feelings grow. Then we fucked and it was like confirmation to me that i was well and truly screwed. But i kept coming back for more because it was like an addiction, i had to have you in any way that was possible and if sex was the only way then i’d have stayed single forever just to keep you close. I’d have done anything to be able to hold your body and kiss your neck and make you feel good. If doing that as just your fuck buddy was the only way then so be it. But i got to a point where just fucking you wasn’t enough. I wanted something real with you. So on Saturday-” before he can even finish you sigh, sitting up.

“You came to tell me how you felt? Andy, why didn’t you just say that earlier?” you don’t know how to feel right now. You’re so consumed by emotions that your head is spinning. One one hand you’re angry, annoyed and upset that he kept this from you and didn’t just tell you he felt the same when you confessed how you felt. But then on the other hand you’re relieved and happy that he does feel the same. This was never some unrequited love, it’s always been reciprocated and real. 

All the lingering stares you’d catch, all of the compliments thrown your way and the insults hurled at random guys who’d ogle you whenever you were out in public with him or whenever another guy at work would take an interest.

“I saw you with that guy Y/N and i broke down. Then today, i expected you to come in and talk to me about it but instead you sat down at your desk, acted normal and didn’t say a word. I was hurt that you’d keep this from me. I know we both felt these things and i know both of us were unaware of the feelings being reciprocated but you still didn’t tell me you’d even thought about seeing other people and i guess i just expected more from you, more honesty”

He’s right. You don’t have it in you to argue because he’s right. He might have had his reasons for hiding his true feelings but you hid your date from him and that’s a lot worse. How was he supposed to just come out with it when all he could think of was you with Ashley.

“You’re right. I was wrong, i didn’t even think about the effect it would have and i was selfish. To tell you the truth i only went out with that guy because i was trying to move on from you, i didn’t want to keep feeling this strongly with no possibility of you feeling the same so i did the first thing i knew to do, date some other guy”

Andy can’t say he isn’t relieved to hear you admit that preppy college boy means nothing to you but it’s bitter sweet, you saying that you thought your feelings were one sided so you wanted to move on to avoid getting hurt further makes him hurt too. You’ve always meant more to him than just some friendship or some steamy sex. You’re the first woman he’s even looked twice at since Laurie and that means a whole lot more than you’ll ever know or understand.

“So what now?” you ask, puppy dog eyes showing as you await his response.

“I know it’s a bit backwards but how about a date tomorrow?”

God, he really is so handsome, so sweet. His deep and raspy chuckles make you giggle along with him as you straddle him once again, crashing your lips to his, his beard scratching at your face just the way you like.

He pulls away for a second “is that a yes?” once more you shake your head, tutting at him “a thousand times yes, Mr Barber. Yes i’ll go out with you” he wraps his arms around you as he pulls you flush against his suit clad torso, kissing you eagerly and smiling into it. He finally got the girl.

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

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[machinegunbun]

Pls pls pls do more of Dirty Little Secret🥺 It was so good I want more

Dirty Laundry +

Tw: WHOLE LOTTA ANGST BABEY Word count?: 1.9k

--

The room was silent.

You couldn’t even describe the air as full of tension, it felt more like all the air in the room had been sucked out entirely. Pete just stared at you, his expression like he had a sour taste in his mouth. The thought of you with his best friend, something you so clearly knew you should tell him, being kept as a secret. There was no way it was anything but intentional, and he had to wonder if Colson and you had planned to never tell him.

You felt like you were being interrogated, not sure where to start, the all too bright lights in contrast to the dark room, all eyes on you, the man in front of you just waiting for you to slip up and confess the murder. He knew.

It didn’t entirely matter that you didn’t know what to say, because Pete didn’t know what to ask. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.

It would’ve been different if you had told him before you got together, but now all he could think about was how Colson had seen every part of you before him. His best friend had seen you in the same way he had and still had the guts to look him in the eye and say how happy he was that you two had finally gotten together.

Pete knew you had slept with men before him, obviously, but this felt different. There was a pang of hurt in his chest as he wondered if it was misogynistic of him to care. It was before you had begun dating, he reasoned, it was your body, but it still felt wrong. He hoped he wasn’t wrong for feeling that, never quite confident in his own emotions.

Questions floated around in his head until he finally decided to grab one out of the air.

“You fucked him.” It was more of a statement.

“Yes.” You admit, your voice low and full of guilt

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Yes. I told him I felt guilty and I wanted you to know and he told me not to. He said it would only make things worse if I did, that it would ruin our relationship and his. I tried to convince him the whole time he was here, but he convinced me not to.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Pete questioned, his words hitting you right in your stomach.

“It’s the truth.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying? How do I know you didn’t convince him not to tell me?”

“Wait, why do you believe him? I get it, I didn’t tell you and I should’ve, I own that, but that’s not fair. He lied too, why is he innocent in this all of the sudden?” You ask, Colson was the one who initiated the sex in the first place. Pete should’ve known you would’ve never been brave enough to start something like that, especially with a guy like Colson. You weren’t a victim, but you refused to be portrayed as the villain.

“I don’t know. I just- I don’t know anymore.” Pete shrugged, standing up and walking to the kitchen. You hesitated, but followed after him.

“I get it, okay. It’s awkward and you aren’t sure how to feel-”

“Don’t tell me what I feel.” Pete snapped

“I’m not, I’m sorry, I’m not. I’m just trying to let you know that it’s okay if you’re mad at me or hurt. I want to let you know I love you and I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.”

“But you didn’t. Colson did. Over the phone. The only reason I even found out is because I called him because you were crying about how you weren’t good enough for me.” He paused to hastily pour himself a drink “and then you begged me not to call him. You knew what he would say, didn’t you?” 

“No, I-” 

“The fact that both of you hung out with me multiple times, listened to me as I talked about the other- I told him I wanted to marry you the other day. He didn’t even mention it. Do you know how much that sucks?” Pete rants, cutting you off once more.

“You wanted to marry me?” You whisper. He went silent at the confession, the pain and confusion evident in his eyes.

“Listen, like he said, the second I realized there was something between us we stopped. I genuinely thought we would only ever be friends.”

“Maybe we should have.”

“You don’t mean that.” You weren’t sure if you were convincing him or yourself. “I don’t love him, okay? I love you. I never loved him, it was just sex and with you it was never just sex. It was never just kissing. It was never just laughing together. Everything means more to me when it’s with you and I really hope we can get through this.” You plead, only realizing Pete had gone silent when you stopped talking.

Pete reached onto the counter to grab a blunt from the ashtray, taking a long hit from it and letting the smoke pour from his lungs, his eyes going dead as he stared at the wall.

“And I know it’s weird,” You continued, it being evident that Pete didn’t have much to say, your only path being to plead your case or otherwise be convicted “but the point of relationships are to work together through your problems. We’ve both obviously moved on, not that there was anything to move on from, just that-”

“What are you building up to?” He asks impatiently.

“I’m just trying to explain myself.”

“Explain what? You fucked my best friend and never planned on telling me. What if I had fucked (Y/B/F)? It would be completely different right now.”

“Okay, I get that the tensions are high right now but I need you to drop the attitude. I did plan on telling you, your ‘best friend’ told me not to. Why do you keep forgetting that he did this too?”

“He’s not here, this isn’t about him right now it’s about me and you. It’ll be about me and him later. I’m not going to talk about everything he did wrong to you.”

“Oh, really? ‘Cause this just feels like an excuse to slut shame me. What? It’s not a problem with Colson ‘cause he's a guy?”

“I never even fucking said that, you just don’t want to take responsibility.”

“I already fucking did take responsibility, jackass! Maybe I wouldn’t have slept with him if you had the balls to tell me you liked me sooner.” You yell, throwing your arms into the air. 

“Oh, are you sure? Are you sure you wouldn’t just blame your commitment issues so you could keep sleeping with him?”

“Stop blaming your fucking insecurities on me! I was trying to have a simple conversation with you about this and you’re acting like a fucking child!”

“Well I’m sorry if you hurt me and don’t want to see that. I’m fucking sorry if the fact that your actions having consequences hurts your feelings. I’m sorry that the excuse of ‘well, he told me not to.’ isn’t fucking good enough for me. This wasn’t about him, it’s about you. You didn’t fucking tell me. You didn’t respect me. You actively tried to stop me from finding out. I don’t care what he did.” He yells, putting on a high pitched voice to imitate you.

“Why the fuck not?! This is exactly what I mean, you keep acting like he’s innocent!” You shout back.

“I don’t expect Colson to tell me the truth, I’m not fucking in love with him!” Pete yelled, the room went silent for a moment before he continued, calmer this time “I expect this shit from everyone, okay? I watched my back with everyone, and I fought tooth and nail to earn your trust because I know you have trust issues, I know that’s why it took so long for us to get together,” He took in a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. “You’re just the only person I trusted not to hurt me.”

“Well that’s a really unrealistic pedestal to put me on, so.” You say, your own voice lowering.

Amy walked down the stairs, wrapping her robe around herself in an attempt to keep the warmth in. You hadn’t even realized how late it was, or how loud the two of you had been yelling at each other.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s going on down here?” She asks, her new york accent evident. Pete licked his lips, staring at you. You could see right past the anger in his eyes, all the way to the hurt.

“He keeps blaming everything on me.” You half yell

“Huh? Blaming what?” She asked, her voice low and full of sleep. It was clear you had woken her up.

“She slept with Colson.” Pete’s voice broke as he said it, jaw clenched. You knew his tongue was between his teeth and he was biting down on it to hold back tears, not wanting to give you the satisfaction. Amy’s eyes softened as she heard this, turning to look at you.

“Get out.” She said softly, but still making it clear there was no room for argument.

“What?” You asked, your heart crumbling.

“Get out of my house.” She added, her voice more stern this time. She pointed angrily at the door, and as you walked out you caught a glimpse of her pulling Pete into her arms.  The height difference was awkward, he had to lean down to bury his face in her shoulder and yet it seemed so natural. You knew there were tears in his eyes as he accepted the loving embrace of his mother, his heart shattered once again.

The door shut behind you like so many times before, but this time felt different. Like it was the last. You wished you had known when you were crying in his arms that it would be the last time you’d ever be in his arms at all. You wished a lot of things, but it was late and the sky was pitch black, leaving the stars to wish on few.

The ferry from staten island wouldn’t leave til morning, so there was no making it back to your apartment. You had no choice but to stay at a hotel. You cursed when you realized you had left your phone in the house, nothing on you but the clothes on your back, the cold night air nipping at your cheeks. 

You began walking, hoping to find a place to stay sooner than later. Pete had a few friends that lived nearby, but the option was dropped as quickly as it was picked up. You didn’t think they’d be much for helping you if they heard what happened.

A gag came up your throat as your foot landed in something cold and squishy, you looked down, lifting your foot to look at the bottom of it. It was hard to make out in the dark of night, but you didn’t need to, you knew what it was. You had just stepped in dog shit while barefoot, and you could only wipe your foot on the grass, destined to spend the night on a park bench.

And throughout all of this, you couldn’t help but feel that you deserved it.

[violetnotez]

request:  It’s the the first time I send a request so I hope I’m doing it right 🥺 can I request a kirishima x reader one-shot with the reader being the traitor and during a fight with the LOV she betrays her classmates and her boyfriend and they found everything out. Possibly angst ofc and you can choose if end it with angst or not, as you prefer. Please I love your blog 🥰

hi anon! So I really loved this idea, and I kinda took it in a different direction, hope thats alright! <3

Kirishima x reader

Genre: Angst, PG

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: none!

Prompt:  #3, “you cant tell me you dont feel the same way” from @bnhabookclub​ Provisional Licensing Exam event

Summary: You have been recruited by Shigaraki to spy on UA as a student. You mistakenly fall in love with Eijirou Kirishima during your time there, dating him for almost 6 months. But now Shigaraki needs you back, and in order to keep Kirishima safe, you have to break his heart

You let out a deep sigh, your chest feeling heavy and full of despair.

You didn't want to do this- you didn't want to hurt him, or let him go.

But to keep him safe- you had to do it.

Shigaraki had revealed the night before that his new plan was complete, and that your spying operation at UA was no longer needed. You had been recruited by Shigaraki at a young age to pose as a student attending UA High, your powerful quirk allowing you to get into the famous Class 1-A. For the last few months you had been pretending to be a hero-in-training, befriending every member in the class in order to win their trust. It was tiring work, trying to study on your own as well as memorize each student's strengths and weaknesses for Shigaraki to use. But by being so friendly with them, you began to realize you actually liked some of the students, making it difficult to hate them as much as you used to. They were so carefree and hopeful about the future, not realizing how cold the real world was like you did. You surprised yourself by loving every moment you were with 1-A, especially with your boyfriend, Eijirou Kirishima. It was hard to stay away from him- he was so bright and charismatic, his smile able to be seen from a mile away. His warmth was so intoxicating, lighting up your life in love and affection. He was the sweetest boy you had ever met, and quite handsome as well, sealing the deal for the massive crush you had grown to have on him. You felt guilty for dating him, knowing that a large portion of your life was hidden from him. It was a frigid lie that had once tried to hold you back from crushing on Kirishima, yet his brilliant warmth melted it away. He unknowingly helped you feel safe, to momentarily believe the world wasn't so bad after all.

Even though you had grown to love the redhead and his bright personality as you spied on Class 1-A, you knew the consequences that one day you would have to leave, yet you followed your heart anyway.

But now the dreaded day had come- Shigaraki needed you to disappear from this new life you had learned to love. He had received all the information he needed from your snooping around, and it was time for you to leave.

Guilt flooded your body, drowning your lungs and heart in regret and misery by the news: you should never have dated poor Kirishima in the first place. You knew it would break his heart once he knew your time together would end, but it had to be done: if Shigaraki ever knew a student from 1-A was romantically in love with you, he wouldn't hesitate to use Kirishima against you as bait to keep you wrapped around his clammy finger. You wouldn't allow Kirishima to get hurt over you, not on your watch.

The only way to ensure you could slip away without worrying about Kirishima was to make him forget about you. That was a close to impossible task, so that idea you scratched out from your mind. You only had two options left: tell him the truth or break his heart.

If you told him the truth, you would have to admit that you were a villain, and most likely would break his heart from the pain away. It would mean revealing your whole life and reason to be a "hero" was a complete and utter lie, most likely destroying the boy in the process. But you already knew Kirishima like the back your hand, and could guess his actions in an instant. He would most likely try to help you, attempt to fix your ways and tell you could leave: but you knew better. You were too involved with the LOV to ever leave and live an everyday life. They would hunt you down if you so much as even admitted to wanting to leave.

You decided the best course of action was to tell Kirishima you were over and down with your relationship- it killed you to even think of speaking such lies, but you didn't want to see him getting hurt. The boy would be heartbroken, yes, but after a while, he'd get over it. His friends were so supportive, so he was sure to have many people consoling him out of his blues. He would forget about you one day and find someone else, someone who wouldn't lie and hurt him. It hurt you to admit it, but this was the best plan you could think of to keep him completely safe.

You were going to miss Kiri and his strong embraces, though, as they were only things that made you feel safe and protected. He was so bright, cheerful, and kind, and it was hard not to resist those warm emotions when your world felt so cold and menacing. But the only way to keep the light inside Kirishima bright was to cut ties with him permanently- you had to break his heart.

Kirishima bounded into the common room cheerfully from his normal workout routine, a warm towel wrapped around his shoulders as he greeted some of his friends. His eyes fell on you, and his heart soared- you looked so pretty sitting there, the setting sun making strands of your hair sparkle like spun gold. His smile grew wider, his perfect teeth sparkling- how was he so lucky to land such an amazing girl like you? His strong arms wrapped around your body from behind the couch, his skin radiating heat as he rubbed his cheek against your hair. "Hey princess, how are you?" he mumbled your pet name into your ear, making your heart churn painfully- this would be the last time he'd hold you like this, the last time he'd speak so softly and sweetly to you. You sighed sadly, meekly wrapping a hand around his skin. 'Hey Kiri," you replied numbly, your voice depressed. You rose from the couch, your legs feeling heavy like lead as you wrapped your arms around your body- why did it feel so cold? Kirishima's smile faded slightly- you didn't sound at all happy. You usually greeted him so adorably, always giving him a big hug or a peck on his cheek. Now you seemed defeated, your hands wrapped around your body as if to protect yourself from something. "Hey, whats going on? You alright- is something bothering you?" he asked sweetly, clueless to why you were feeling this way as he closed the gap between you. He placed his calloused palm on the small of your back, reassuringly, his thumb rubbing against the fabric of your shirt. You swallowed hesitantly, your eyes unable to look into his- it felt too painful to look at him, his innocence to the whole situation making you feel so conflicted and guilty. "We need to talk," you forced yourself to say, his face instantly masked in worry. "Uh-uh sure!" he replied quickly, his speech a little flustered as he tried to seem unbothered, "do you want to talk in my room or yours?" "Let's go in mine," You quickly began walking to your room, Kirishima's footsteps following close behind. He was perplexed and worried- you seemed like something was really bothering you, your voice free of any brightness and joy like it usually was.

You felt like each step to your room made your heart fall heavier and heavier, opening up your room door slowly and letting him enter your room. He flipped on the lights, illuminating the space as you closed the door- even though you'd be long gone by the morning, you felt you at least owed Kirishima some privacy by having the door closed. It made the room feel so much smaller now that Kirishima's aura took over the room. Guilt and shame were eating up at you as you remembered all the hangout sessions and study dates you had in this room, hating how worried and compassionate he looked towards you. "What did you want to talk about? Is it something I did or do? I'm really sorry if I hurt you some way," he was already thinking it was his fault, making you cringe in internal pain- god why was he so sweet? It was you, it was your own personal issues, not him.   "No Kiri, no!" you frantically reassured him, your hands going out in front of you in protest. "Its not you, its- its just," "You can tell me anything, you know that right?" he affirmed sweetly, his eyes soft with concern. You nodded your head numbly, your mouth feeling dry like sandpaper. Kirishima walked close to your body, placing his palms around  your elbows, your arms full of tension as he tried to melt it away with his touch. He was looking down at you with so much worry, so much adoration and love, it made your stomach turn painfully. Why did this have to be so hard-it was so agonizing, like pulling off a bandage slowly and painfully. You just needed to get it done, to rip off the metaphorical bandage as quickly as possible- the longer you wait, the longer the stinging and the pain will be for the both of you. "Then tell me whats wrong," he instructed softly, still utterly oblivious to the whole situation. You swallowed thickly, your voice and throat feeling hoarse and tight. It was now or never. "Kiri, I- we need to break up."

Kirishima froze, his heart stopping in his chest. He didn't hear you correctly, right? Maybe he heard you wrong? There was no way you wanted to break up with him, no way at all- "I-Im sorry, I just-I just don't love you," You hated how these words were coming out of your mouth, these lies that were obviously ripping you and Kirishima apart from the inside. You watched his expression turn from worry to agony, his eyes wide with shock. It hurt too much to see him look so frozen, as if your words had caused him to shut down. His hands were still on your body, the air changing so suddenly- it was stuffy, stale, and uncomfortable. And it was your fault. You shimmied out of his embrace, turning around so you wouldn't be forced to face him. The guilt was eating at you- you couldn't bear to look at him look so defeated when you knew you had caused it. Your abrupt movement seemed to wake him up out of his heartbroken daze, his hands instantly grasping for you, spinning you around quickly. You breathed hitched painfully in your throat- you had never seen him look so defeated, so desperate. His palms were wrapped around your shoulders tightly, almost painfully, making it practically impossible to escape his hold on you. "y/n, please, please just tell me what's wrong," his voice was wavering, his eyes already gleaming with tears, "I-I know this isn't you, if I did something, y/n, I'll fix it, I promise! I can't lose you, please, please dont do this-" he was practically begging "Kiri, I-I, I cant," your voice was becoming weaker from the stress of trying to hold back a sob, "I-I never loved you." "Y/n, no, I cant accept that," tears were gliding against his cheeks, his voice full of passion, "you cant tell me you dont feel the same way." "I-I love you so, so much, you have no idea," he looked down at you with his wide, puppy-like eyes, begging you to change your mind with his words. "Your all I think about- when I wake up, when I fall asleep, everything I see reminds me of you. You make me so happy, the way you smile, your laugh, your hugs- I-I cant live without those things y/n. I cant live without you. When I asked you out that day, I was so nervous- I had been planning for weeks before, and when you agreed to go out, you made me the happiest man alive." Tears were falling down your cheeks now, your heart screaming in agony. You wanted to tell him that's how you felt as well- Kirishima was your whole entire life, enveloping your every waking moment in his wonderfully bright aura. He was your light, your sun, your anchor in the crazy mess of the galaxy of your life. There was no love and no warmth until Kirishima came around. But now you needed to keep him safe- you had to sacrifice your happiness with each other in order to keep him out of harm's way. "Kiri, I only dated you because I felt pity," you lied straight through your teeth, wishing you could melt into the wall seeing Kirishima's face break. "I was too afraid to say no," His heart couldn't take anymore clearly, his face conflicted with so many emotions you couldn't differentiate between any of them. You felt like this was the most ultimate betrayal to the boy, making him think his love he had with you was all a lie. It wasn't, and you wished you could just tell him the truth, but you knew that would be worse. He'd never allow you to leave- you had to, to protect yourself and him. You put yourself in a crappy situation- you wouldn't drag him along with you. "So-it-it was all fake?" He asked, his voice quiet and terrified. He didn't want to hear the answer he knew would spill out of your mouth. "Yes," The room was deadly quiet, Kirishima completely dumb founded-all the times you hugged him, made him feel accepted in your life, laughed at his jokes, kissed him, made him smile, made him happy-was all a lie? A cruel joke in order to spare his feelings? He felt like such an idiot-he should have known this was too good to be true. He felt deep down he wasn't good enough for you, strong enough, smart enough, manly enough. This was just confirming that fear by 10 fold. You were sniffling, watching the love you had for the boy only grow out of misery, while his love for you was diminishing. "Y-n, I-"he was so confused, his hands running through his hair in anguish. "Why?!? Why did you-you were my first everything! You are everything to me! I can't believe you, there's gotta be another reason-I love you, you love me!" You were so quiet, your shoulders shaking in misery and guilt as tear after salty tear fell against your cheek. Your silence was painful, confirming what he feared with each passing second, your averted eyes hiding the actual truth "You love me, right?" You were too afraid to speak, knowing what you had to say to break him from you-but you couldn't. The lie of saying you didn't love him was eating up your insides, clogging your lungs and your throat to the point you felt you couldn't speak. You couldn't tell him you didn't love him-it was too painful. You already lied to him enough. "I'm sorry," you whispered, looking at him with reddened eyes. What he thought you were sorry for was your lack of care for him, the lies you had told him for the past 6 months, and it burnt his insides in a gut wrenching flame, the fire licking and eating his insides in agony.  He had to leave-he couldn't take this anymore, his body walking right past you and opening the door quickly to get fresh air. You were now sobbing, broken gasps crying out his name as he shut the door behind you, closing his heart off from ever accepting you again. You were sorry that you were in love with him, and by being in love with him, you had broken him.

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[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #102: Li Shuwen

Finally, we get to do a relevant servant! Wait, what do you mean it’s the lancer?

Oh well. Today we’re making Li Shuwen, the God Spear. If you couldn’t tell from that nickname, he’s pretty good at stabbing people.

Unfortunately, “no second strike” was in the cards for this build, but if you hit people quickly enough it’s almost the same thing, right?

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Race and Background

Li’s a Variant Human, giving him +1 Dexterity and Constitution. He also gets Perception proficiency, and the Piercer feat. This allows him to re-roll one die of piercing damage per turn, and critical piercing hits deal an extra die of damage. Turns out, the God Spear is good with spears.

For his background, modify the Mercenary Veteran background, and call it the Martial Artist background instead. This’ll net you Athletics and Insight proficiency.

Ability Scores

Put your highest score in Dexterity- your spear’s powerful, but that came from technique rather than brute force. After that is Wisdom, you have to know where you’re stabbing to get the most out of it. Third is Constitution, which you’ll need plenty of if you’re going to fight Scathach. After that is Intelligence, you’re not particularly bright or stupid. Your Charisma is a bit low, you don’t get that much screentime, but we’re dumping Strength. You don’t need it, and clearly you don’t use it, considering your geriatric version is a full star rarer than you are.

Class Levels

1. Monk 1: Being a monk nets you an Unarmored Defense, giving you an AC based on your dexterity and wisdom. You also learn Martial Arts, letting you use Dexterity with your unarmed attacks and monk weapons, and if you attack as an action, you can attack as a bonus action as well.

You also get proficiency in Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as Acrobatics and History. Like all servants, you’re literally a part of history, so it makes sense you know something about it.

2. Monk 2: Second level monks get Ki Points, which you can currently spend to dash, dodge, or attack twice as a bonus action. You start out with a maximum number equal to your monk level, and they recharge on short rests. You also have Unarmored Movement, adding extra distance to your move speed as long as you don’t wear armor. Which you obviously don’t. I mean, look at that final ascension. You’re barely wearing a shirt. 

3. Monk 3: You’re good with a spear, Kensei monks are good with a spear, it’s a pretty solid pick. Kensei monks know the Path of the Kensei, which is basically just how they package all your level three goodies into “one” feature so the other monks don’t get jealous. You turn a melee and ranged weapon into your Kensei weapons, which will be used for your other abilities. Obviously we’re going for the spear, nothing else really matters here. You can also make an Agile Parry, adding 2 to your AC until your next turn if you make an unarmed strike as part of your attack action. Important to note: This isn’t limited to once per turn.

You can also Deflect Missiles as a reaction, weakening a ranged weapon attack, and possibly throwing them back at enemies.

4. Monk 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Dexterity. Monks like dexterity, it’s a thing. You also learn Slow Fall, reducing falling damage as a reaction, and Quickened Healing. You can spend 2 ki points at a bonus action to heal yourself as an action. This scales with your martial arts and proficiency bonus.

5. Monk 5: Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack with each attack action, and can make Stunning Strikes, forcing a constitution save (DC 8 plus your wisdom modifier plus your proficiency bonus) or they’re stunned until the end of your next turn. Stunned creatures automatically fail strength and dexterity saves, attacks against them have advantage, and they’re incapacitated for the duration. This is more Older You’s bag, but they’re still you, so why not have it?

You can also spend ki points on your Focused Aim to possibly turn your failed attacks into hits. You only need one attack, so missing is a big issue for you.

6. Fighter 1: You’re really skilled at fighting, but you’re also really skilled at fighting, and you know who else is really skilled at fighting? Fighters. First level fighters get a fighting style, and Blind Fighting will ensure your duels aren’t interrupted by pesky things like “the night”, or “wearing sunglasses indoors”. You also gain a Second Wind, healing yourself as a bonus action once per short rest. It’s like Quickened Healing, but actually fast.

7. Fighter 2: Second level fighters can make an Action Surge once per short rest, adding an extra action to a turn. Combine this with some unarmed attacks and your agile parries, and you’re able to add a +8 bonus to your AC. That’s pretty solid for level 7. Also you hit things real good now.

8. Fighter 3: You’re really skilled at fighting, and really skilled at fighting, but you’re also really skilled at fighting. I don’t think that’s enough skill yet, so let’s go Battle Master to get really skilled at fighting. You can use your Combat Superiority to add maneuvers to your attacks. These use Superiority Dice, 4d8 that recharge on short rests. Maneuvers have a variety of effects, for example, Feinting Attack uses your bonus action to give your next attack advantage, and adds the superiority die to the damage roll. Lunging Attack also deals extra damage, and increases your reach by five feet. For the big brain plays out there, Tactical Assessment adds the superiority die to Investigation, History, or Insight checks. You’re not just good at fighting, you’re skilled at it. I think I said that already.

9. Fighter 4: Use this ASI to become a Martial Adept, gaining a fifth superiority die and two more maneuvers. Brace lets you go all Hektor on an enemy, using your reaction to attack them when they enter your reach and dealing extra damage. Disarming Attack is an attack that disarms, forcing a strength save or the target drops an item they’re holding of your choice.

10. Fighter 5: You get another extra attack, but it doesn’t stack, so we’re moving on.

11. Fighter 6: Max out your Dexterity with this ASI, and spend the other point on Wisdom. Monks love them some wisdom. Not quite as much as dexterity, but it’s still pretty good.

12. Monk 6: Sixth level monks have Ki-Empowered Strikes, making your unarmed attacks magical for overcoming resistances. Kensei monks are also One with the Blade, making your kensei weapons magical and giving you a Deft Strike. You can now spend 1 ki point to deal your martial arts die in extra damage when you hit with a kensei weapon. If you’re using a spear two-handed, plus your maneuvers, that’s now 2d8+1d6+5 damage, which is pretty solid for a stick.

13. Monk 7: Seventh level monks get Evasion, meaning you take half damage from failed dexterity saves and no damage from successful ones. You also have a Stillness of Mind that lets you end charming and frightening effects on yourself as an action. Some call you singleminded, but you’re just focused.

14. Monk 8: Use this ASI to become more Resilient, gaining proficiency with Wisdom saving throws. This also rounds up your wisdom score for some extra AC.

15. Monk 9: Ninth level monks get an Unarmored Movement Improvement, allowing you to run up walls and over water as long as you end your turn on something solid.

16. Fighter 7: We’ve sped up as much as you’re going to, so let’s head back to hitting things all smartlike. Seventh level battle masters Know Your Enemy, allowing you to gain information on a creature after spending 1 minute outside of combat. You learn if a creature is less powerful, more powerful, or equal to you in two categories: Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, AC, Current HP, Total class levels, or Fighter class levels.

You also get an extra superiority die and another set of maneuvers; Sweeping Attack lets you follow through to hit another creature, and Riposte allows you to make an attack after another creature misses you. Both maneuvers also deal bonus damage.

17. Fighter 8: Use your final ASI to become Tough, gaining 2 HP for each level you have and every level you gain later. 

18. Fighter 9: You become Indomitable- you can re-roll a failed saving throw once per long rest.

19. Fighter 10: You have Improved Combat Superiority, increasing the power of your superiority dice to d10s. You also get one more set of maneuvers- Parry reduces incoming damage, and Menacing Attack forces the creature you’re hitting to make a wisdom save or become Frightened until your next turn.

20. Fighter 11: Your capstone level gives you another Extra Attack, and this one does stack with your existing feature. Deal more damage! Abuse your Agile Parry even harder! The world is your oyster!

Pros

With almost 200 hp, evasion, bonus action dodges, and the ability to bump up your AC by +6 for free, you’re pretty hard to kill when you have to be on the defensive. For you numbers nerds, if you’re using the standard array you’ll end this build with an AC of 18, which you can make 24 with your normal attacks, or 30 with your action surge. And then you can force disadvantage with your bonus action.

Alternatively, your action surge can be used to apply burst damage, dealing plenty of attacks in a single turn and adding deft strikes and maneuvers to your critical hits for even more damage. It’s not quite one strike kills, but we couldn’t make a spear-wielding rogue anyway.

With your frankly silly amount of maneuvers plus your monk abilities, you have plenty of combat options to spice things up in the heat of battle.

Cons

Despite your best efforts, you’re still limited to the small amount of ki and superiority dice per short rest, meaning you’ll have to play things smart in drawn-out battles.

While you can technically use ranged weapons all you want, playing to character means your range is limited to how far you can throw your spear. And unlike the Cu Alter build we just did, you can’t jump 40′ into the air to compensate.

There reaches a point where you just have too many options for doing things. Your bonus actions are busy with monk things, and your reactions are too, with parrying, riposting, bracing, and deflecting missiles. That doesn’t even get into the choice paralysis that’ll creep up when you have to pick a maneuver to use.

[honeypiehotchner]

Lost in a Crowd -- part thirty-three

Because I know it would be cruel of me to make y’all wait until tomorrow for this, here’s the next part. Warnings for some...general not good things being said. Bucky is an asshole. A huge one. Anywho, enjoy!

The door to Bucky’s room is wide open when I reach it. He’s standing in the room, facing the window, hands in his pockets.

I knock on the doorframe out of anxiety and as a courtesy to let him know I’m coming in, even though I’m sure he heard me walking down the hall. He barely turns his head to the side when I knock.

“Hey,” I call out, walking in and shutting the door.

“Hey,” he replies, barely audible.

“I need to tell you something,” I say, taking a deep breath. MJ, Peter, and I agreed the best plan of action is to tell him the truth right away. The full truth. (Oh, Peter wasn’t the least bit surprised when he found out.)

Here goes nothing. “I’m—”

But Bucky beats me to it. “Do you run the anonymous advice account on Twitter?”

I blink slowly. “How did you know?”

“I figured it out.”

I can’t gather a damn thing from his tone, especially when he’s got his back facing me. He doesn’t sound happy at all about figuring it out, though, that’s for sure.

“How long have you known?” I ask.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs his shoulders.

“Bucky,” I whisper. “Please look at me.”

Slowly, he does. And immediately, I wish I didn’t ask him to.

His eyes are stormy. But this is a storm that even I can’t help him escape. This is the kind of storm that drowns sailors out at sea. The kind that breaks hearts and makes widows out of innocent women. The kind that you can’t control or stop. The kind that shows no mercy.

“Bucky, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

For a moment, I almost think it’s my Bucky. That he’s going to tell me I have nothing to be sorry for because I have such a bad habit of apologizing for existing. But he doesn’t.

“You lied to me,” he mutters, voice even and lethal. “You knew when I was asking for advice that it was about you and you never bothered to tell me. Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I didn’t know how to say it—”

“Please. Don’t.”

“Fine,” I whisper, done with being interrupted. “My turn. You lied to me this morning.”

He stills.

“I didn’t want to be alone and you probably knew that and what did you do? You lied to me. I had to find out from Tony,” I gesture randomly, knowing he’s somewhere in the Tower, “that there are no fucking missions right now. That you just didn’t want to see me so badly that you made up some stupid lie.” Saying it all out loud to him hurts more than I expected it to. The burning in my lungs refuses to cease.

“Yeah? Well I had to find out from your mother that you ran that account!”

My eyes widen. “You were eavesdropping on us?”

“I was listening. Yes.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell, anger taking the reins. “I told you that conversation was to be private! I told you to give us a moment alone!”

“After the things I heard her say to you? You really thought I was gonna let you be alone with her?”

“I can handle whatever comes out of her mouth, Bucky.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I have all my life. If you didn’t want me to be alone with her, you should’ve just told me.”

“Like how you should’ve told me you run the advice account?”

“Yes,” I nod. If he thinks he can guilt me into saying I was right not to tell him so he can have something else to yell at me for, he’s mistaken. “Exactly like that. I should’ve told you, and I didn’t. And I’m sorry that I didn’t. I didn’t know how to bring it up and although I don’t agree with you eavesdropping, I’m sorry you had to find out that way. It wasn’t how I wanted you to find out about it.”

“How did you want me to find out, then?”

“I wanted to fucking tell you, Bucky. Myself. To your face. That’s what I was going to do today. Because when I got your message about us needing to talk, I thought— I knew it was time. I was going to confess, but you beat me to it.”

“So it’s my fault now?”

“No, goddamn— The world doesn’t fucking revolve around you, Bucky!” As soon as I say the words, I regret it. His jaw clenches and his fists do, too. I know he’d never hurt me, but damn if I’m not backing away from him.

“You know what?” Bucky says lowly. “It doesn’t matter.”

Another moment of hope. Is this where we both apologize for yelling and talk this through like adults?

“I was a puppet for HYDRA for long enough. I won’t be one again. I can’t do this,” Bucky says, shattering my heart and my hope and leaving it all a bloody mess at my feet.

I want to say, “Did you seriously just fucking compare me to the Nazi regime that kidnapped and brainwashed you?” But that’s too big of an issue to get into right now when he’s obviously made up his mind, so I stay quiet. I wait for him to finish.

“I need a break, Lily,” he finally says, and his use of my name instead of ‘doll’ stings much more than it should. “From this. From us.”

I should’ve seen this coming. It’s textbook, isn’t it? The beginning is the “We need to talk” text message. The middle is the argument we just had. And the bitter end is this moment. This exact moment.

“You need a break, or you want to break up?” I ask quietly. Too many times I agreed to ‘it’s just a break’ with Tyler. I can’t do that to myself again. And I won’t. “I don’t do breaks, Bucky. You either want this or you don’t.”

Bucky’s face crumples at my statement. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” I say. “I’m not going to stick around and go on ‘breaks’ while you figure yourself out. So, since you don’t know, I think that gives us our answer.”

Bucky nods. He doesn’t try fighting or denying it. “I guess it does.”

That’s it?

I feel the beginnings of tears pricking my eyes, the overwhelming weight of it all finally registering within my mind. I’ve got two minutes tops before the waves start crashing.

“Okay then,” I murmur, trying to keep everything under control while I’m still facing him. “That’s that, then.”

I turn on my heel and yank his door open. Something deep inside of me wishes for this to be different — to be like the movies. I walk slowly down the hallway, waiting for that moment where he flies out of his room, calling my name. I wait for him to pull me into his arms and kiss me and tell me he’s sorry and that he wants to talk. I wait for him to take me back into his room, sit me down on the couch, and start it all over again, right from scratch. I wait for his forgiveness and for the storm to disappear from his eyes and his heart.

I press the elevator button and I wait.

I wait and I wait and I wait.

The elevator doors close. And I drown in the storm.

Yikes Peter kind of went off. I can’t tell if that’s wildly ooc for him, but honestly he thinks of Lily as a sister, so I think it makes sense for his protective little brother instincts to take over and drag Bucky’s ass through the dirt 😂😭

[xiaojusaur]

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluffy Smut

Warnings: Vanilla unprotected sex (stay safe my peeps), oral (receiving), daddy kink

Word Count: 1765

Description: This is a short drabble as a gift for my Secret Admirer @triheartedhero 💖 Hello! I’m the Little Dino in your ask box! I hope you like this! I’m really sorry it isn’t longer, I promise to make it up to you in the future 💚

You woke up in what you wanted to be a normal day, but sadly it was Valentine’s Day and you were meant to spend it alone once again.

The thought of going around and seeing everyone all lovey-dovey, with gifts inside red wrapping and heart-shaped balloons, was making you nauseous.

On days like this, you missed him.

He told you he was a busy man, mostly because he had to perform his tasks as a CEO, but you missed him.

You still remember the first Valentine’s you spent together. He took you out to dinner, bought you flowers and chocolates, and then rented a suite in one of the most expensive hotels in town, obviously to wreck you all night long.

The last few years he had sent you flowers and chocolates but he always has an excuse to not come. It made you wonder if he still liked you at all.

Considering you went from being his sugar baby to a serious relationship scared you since you were always thinking he would get bored.

You got out of bed to make some breakfast to then continue with your normal life.

You decided to play some music while preparing the food to feel the joy of the day. You were only wearing underwear and a big shirt that covered just below your butt cheeks.

You started beating the eggs and started shaking at the same rhythm, enjoying yourself.

Out of nowhere, you felt two arms tangling around your waist. You screeched in panic, who was this?! He pulled you closer to him and when you smelled that cologne, you knew it was him, so you smiled widely. “Joonie?!”

“Hi baby,” he squeezed you and kissed the crook of your neck. You turned around to get greeted by your lover, your tall noodle. You hugged him tightly and he did the same, he picked you and sat you on the counter. You quickly trapped him between your legs, pulling him closer, and kissed him as an instinct. He kissed you back with the usual hunger. You quickly started unbuttoning his shirt, desperate to feel his warmth, but gently grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

You looked at him confused, didn’t he want you anymore? As if reading your thoughts, he said, “I have a surprise for you.” Your eyes shined and you smiled while looking at him, “What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” he said pinching your cheek. You did as told and you heard him mumble, “Such a good girl always.”

He placed something on your thighs, like a rectangular box, but you didn’t open your eyes until he said so.

“You may open them, baby,” he sounded excited.

You had a tiny red box on your legs. You quickly took it and opened it carefully. Inside, there was a think necklace with a green leaf made of emerald as a pendant.

You felt your eyes get filled with tears, “Oh Joonie! It’s beautiful!”

He was smiling proudly, “I’m glad you like it, babygirl,” he kissed your forehead.

“I know I’m not the best at this Valentine's thing, but I really love you. I want you to know it.” There he was, assuring you what you doubted, he knew you so well.

“Joonie, you’re gonna make me cry! Stop!” You whined while you hugged him.

“There’s something more,” he added while tugging a lock of hair behind your ear. You looked at him in anticipation, waiting for the next thing.

“I rented a cottage in the woods, so we can spend some time together, relax... without work issues.”

“Oh my God, Joon! That’s amazing! I love it!” You hugged him again.

“We’re leaving in the morning tomorrow, so start packing up your things,” he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I will, as soon as I finish this breakfast,” you pecked his lips and he smiled sweetly. You were so in love with him.

In the morning, you were ready early because you were excited. Namjoon came early to pick you up. He was wearing shorts and a white shirt, he looked completely stunning.

“Ready to go, my love?” He asked while picking up your stuff and putting it in the trunk of his car.

“I’m so excited!!” You squealed.

He laughed and then got in the car, you did the same. Namjoon took your hand in his and started the car.

The cottage was beautiful! It was made of wood and surrounded by flora, so natural, so organic! Inside, everything was so white and bright, cozy. You would give anything to live here forever.

You went to leave your stuff and to organize the bedroom when Namjoon entered right behind you. He hugged you from behind and pecked your neck softly. You hummed and giggled because it tickled.

“Baby,” he whispered with a deeper voice in your ear, giving you instant goosebumps.

“Yes?” you asked giggling.

“You know how much I love your body, right?” He pulled you closer.

“You do?” You were pretending to be clueless.

“Oh, adooore your body,” he said as his hands traveled down your torso.

“Hmmm... I didn’t know,” you moved your head so he could place his chin on the crook of your neck.

“How about I show you how much I love you, hmm? What do you think?” He squeezed one of your thighs.

You could never get used to how soft his hands were, they were so addictive.

He turned you around and pushed you to the bed, he pinned you down by the wrists and quickly started to kiss your neck. You couldn’t stay still because you missed him so much. “Namjoonie,” you moaned.

He hummed as if asking you what happened.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you breathed.

“Me too, my baby girl,” he stopped for a second to say that.

Namjoon let go of your hand to roam down your body, he switched his kisses to your lips now to try to distract you from where his hand was going. He didn’t lose any time, his hand was already caressing between your legs. You were so eager, you moaned in anticipation.

“I can’t wait anymore,” he growled. Joon kneeled on the bed to take off your pants and underwear at the same time. You gasped as you felt the sudden breeze on your bare core. He kissed right under your navel and you were already holding your breath, you knew what he was about to do.

His eyes were fixed on you while his lips kissed their way down until he reached your mound. He smirked and kissed between your folds, making you throw your head back, succumbing into the pillow. You missed his lips and there he was, reminding you how much you loved them. His tongue darted out, tasting you.

“Mmmm... So sweet as always,” he hummed right on your folds, making your eyes turn in pleasure.

He picked up a pace, giving you fast licks on your clit with the tip of his tongue. Occasionally, he would stop and suck and then started licking again. Your hands were on his head, pulling his hair while he had you moaning uncontrollably already.

“Fuck, Joonie, I’m gonna cum...” you keened.

“Come on my tongue baby girl,” he said stopping for a second to talk and then continued with his ministrations.

You felt the knot on your pelvis trying to snap. You relaxed and you let it happen. You came with a soft moan, whining, pulling his hair to make him stop because of overstimulation.

He stopped, gasping and saying, “Such a good pussy, I love it so much.”

You pulled him by the belt, opening it with despair.

“You’re in such a hurry,” he laughed.

“I want you now daddy, and you want me too,” you panted while watching the bulge in his pants.

He unbuttoned his shirt as you unbuttoned his pants. “Joonie, please, take me,” you begged. He just chuckled.

You took off your shirt because you didn’t want to be half-dressed while he was all naked and glorious right in front of you.

He leaned on you and kissed you. He held his member with one of his hands, looking for your entrance. He knew your body so well, he thrusted without any problem, groaning in the process. “Ugh, you’re so wet, fuck!”

You felt so full of him, you just wanted to feel him as close as possible, so you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were moaning right on his ear while he thrusted you at a normal pace.

“Gosh! I missed you so much, baby girl,” he panted in your ear. “You feel so warm around me.”

Normally, you two fucked dirty, but today you felt him closer, intimate. You loved this new feeling.

“Joon, please fuck me harder,” you moaned loudly and he complied, the sound of your thighs crashing with each other increasing. He then pushed one of your legs up and placed it over his shoulder, reaching deeper into you.

“Oh my God!!! Right there!!” You screamed. He was hitting just right, your head was on the clouds.

He kneeled on the bed to see you, he seized the opportunity to start rubbing on your swollen bundle of nerves. “Shit! Namjoon!” You moaned at the top of your lungs while he kept his pace.

“I'm gonna cum so hard baby girl,” his confession making you clench around him.

You felt the burning sensation coming over, running through your body slowly. You started arching your back, trying to control your body, not wanting to cum yet.

“Let it out baby,” he noticed you were holding it back.

You were fighting against your body but in the end, you lost. Your orgasm hit you with such a force, you started shaking and whining.

He groaned from watching you and from the feeling. A few thrusts later and he came right after you. He plopped on top of you, cuddling you closer, kissing your cheeks and whispering sweet things. “You’re so beautiful, my love. I love you so much.”

He let you recover and then rolled on the bed, letting you lie on his chest. He was playing with your hair and spoiling you so much. You both lied there naked for the rest of the day.

You two fucked like bunnies around the cottage for the whole weekend. There wasn’t a wall you left untouched. But like this, he reminded you that, even though he was busy most of the time, he still loved you and desired you like the first time.

[fuckinuchihas]

You already know I love the valentine's day event and it's so cute! You also already know I'd give my final 🌹 to Tetsurou. And that I would love to have his 🍆. Thank you, amazing friend! 🥺

- 🥺 anon

Haha Kuroo Kuroo Kuroo…

He’s a big shot business guy now and he uses his brain on the daily to earn more money than most people are able to, but he’s been incredibly lonely since his friends started settling down one after another after another. 

He’s been working less, trying to free up his schedule in case someone special shows up in his peripherals but nobody seems to be waiting in the wings unfortunately. 

He hears about it from one of the guys during a catchup facetime call. 

“Hey did you know Onyx is doing the Bachelorette this season?” 

“Who?” Kenma says, eyes still not looking at the camera, just focused on the monitor in front of him. 

“Oh I don’t guess you know her. She transferred before our second year,” Kai answers.

“Aww Cap are you blushing?” Lev says, still insisting on calling him captain despite the years that have passed since that was true. 

That gets Kenma’s attention and he actually looks up from the screen. 

Kuroo is a bit flustered because he wasn’t prepared to hear anything about you but it’s not that noticeable is it?

“Kuroo used to have the biggest crush on her,” Yaku says, grinning to the camera. “And that look on your face says not much has changed. 

“I haven’t seen her in years…” 

“Sounds sus…” Kenma says softly into the mic. 

“Cap you gotta go after her! She could be the one!!” Lev says, always eager to push a sappy narrative. 

Kuroo feels his face heat further and he ends the call quickly and then immediately lies to the group text that it was a connection issue. 

None of them buy it. 

When he steps out of the limo it takes a second for your eyes to adjust, for your mind to place him, just a beat, a breath, and then that same breath sticks in your throat as if you’ve never taken air into your lungs before, like you’re confused about what to do next. 

The exhale comes after you feel his warm lips pressed to your hand and he pulls away. 

“Kuroo-san,” you say, still feeling a bit dazed at the sight of him after all these years. 

He has a more confident smile, more confident stance...he’s bulked out a little but still effortlessly gorgeous. 

He nearly makes it into the mansion before you collect yourself and rush toward him, hugging around him instantly. “I missed you, Kuroo-san.”

He turns so that you’re hugging his front and he smiles against your neck as a delicious thrill runs down your spine. 

“Y’know you can call me Tetsuro,” he says, breath tickling your skin. 

He feels you shiver in his arms. 

‘Oh this is going to be fun,’ he thinks. 

You’ve made it through a few different weeks. Many MANY people are constantly vying for your attention and honestly it’s a little overwhelming but completely flattering. You are surprised by the actual interest they show in you but none more than him. 

Kuroo Tetsuro...your high school crush. 

The yardstick to which all others are measured against and immediately dismissed.

It’s unbelievable and yet… 

The show actually had to hire an interpreter because Kuroo has very obviously been flirting with you in his native tongue and they were tired of relying on google translate, which was far from perfect.

You might have forgotten some of it over the years but not enough to keep yourself from being flustered by him, though you doubt it's the language as much as it is his overall charming personality, but still. 

The California heat is making an appearance and you’re sent with the contestants to the beach to ‘relax’ and have a good time. 

There’s a challenge written on the card and you’ve never seen Kuroo so excited. 

Beach volleyball anyone? 

HE IS EXCITED WITH A CAPITAL E!!!!!! 

They brought some hotshot athlete who teasingly acts as if he’s going to steal you away. 

You’re not really into the pretentiousness, but you’re polite because the whole world is watching. 

The contest between the guys is simple enough, the group of three that lasts the longest on the opposite side of the net, wins. 

Moving on the sand isn’t as easy as it is on the court but volleyball is volleyball and Kuroo is not an amature.

The paid athlete is ‘taking it easy’ on them until Kuroo’s group stands opposite him and after three well placed, well timed blocks you watch the guy get more frustrated and start to play seriously. 

That doesn’t change the fact that Kuroo can still block him and you take no small amount of joy in watching the light drain out of his eyes block after block, after block.

Eventually they call that round and the others all get a chance. 

Though honestly, they didn’t need to keep playing, no one was going to beat the group that Kuroo was in. NO ONE. 

The prize is that the three of them are allowed to plan any sort of date they want with you, and you’ll blindly choose which of the three dates to accept based solely on those plans. 

Of course, you can’t say it’s exactly fair when you see what’s written on the second card. 

“Baking cupcakes, eating them, and planning our life together…” 

It’s no contest. 

The guy who offered you a helicopter ride over the city is pissed beyond belief when he realizes what you chose, but it’s not really about the glitz and glam for you and if he was paying attention he’d know that by now. 

“It’s good to know you still like to bake,” he says flat out, cheshire grin on his lips. 

“You’re a dirty cheater,” you reply fondly. 

He shrugs, “I like to think of it as creating an opportunity for happiness.” 

You roll your eyes but you can’t hide the way your pulse spikes when he pulls your hand into his to lead you toward the mansion kitchen. 

You’re stuffed full of your favorite flavor when he pulls you in for a kiss...he’s growing bolder the more time that passes. He’s scared he’s going to lose you to someone else, though he’s pretty much shut down the competition as best as he can. 

There’s something that feels like desperation when he deepens it further and you purr against him. 

When he pulls away your eyes are glassy and your lips are swollen and red.

“I’m done holding back...I want this, I want you...I wanted you then and I want you even more now,” he says, softly against your ear hoping the mics don’t pick it up but not really caring if they do.

“Me too, Tetsu...I want this too, please,” you say, pulling him back in. The two of you stumble back against the counter and he pins you against it, rough teeth nipping at your mouth as he lets himself get lost in the moment. 

It isn’t until you moan out his name and push against his chest that he notices you’re feeling slightly embarrassed…

You crook your finger at him, beckoning him closer and he leans in. 

“The lights...the cameras...the whole world watching, not really my thing…” you say softly and he grins. 

“Alright, Kitten. But this isn’t over,” he says, and you agree wholeheartedly. 

~TO BE CONTINUED~

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

Can't you hear it? I'm fine!

I'm deeply sorry to have stolen this pure cinnamon roll's voice for the sake of a prompt fill - it just escaped me. I was supposed to write a very similar idea for "Appendicitis", but I realized it'd be a better fit for a more basic illness like this one. It does flow a little better than my first draft (that I obviously never finished), and it brought me one idea for "Voice Breaking" that seemed pretty good to me. That one is very basic because I spent a couple days in a bad mindspace and suffering from blank page syndrome, but I believe I'm having that beat by now. I'm not sure I even respected the prompt (it ain't a prompt list filled by Fly if he doesn't bend at least one prompt to propose a convenient-for-him interpretation!), nor if I wrote the characters properly. We've all got test runs, after all, and this story was one.

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

Fractured Falsetto

Summary: As long as you tell others (and yourself) that you're fine, you'll be, even if everything around you says otherwise; or, at least, that's what Hikaru believes.

Fandom: Inazuma Eleven Go

Wordcount: 2.5K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​

AO3 version available here.

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He doesn’t like the concern in Mom’s eyes nor her voice, so when she asks him if he’s fine enough to attend class because he looks a little sick, Hikaru replies he feels fine. Plus, he’s got a presentation to make in class and the team is practicing for a fairly important match after class, so he better head there so they can all train together – it’ll be better for team cohesion, right? Moreover, if he doesn’t show up, they’ll wonder where he’s gone and he doesn’t want to either anger or concern them.

Maybe he just didn’t wake up the right way, this morning. Not being full awake sometimes tricks you into thinking you’re more tired or less aware that you actually are. It’ll pass, he’s sure of it, and he’ll be able to handle practice as well as he usually does.

 It’s the middle of winter, so the air feels chilly all around, yet since it hasn’t rained in a couple days, it’s dry and irritates the airways. His throat already felt scratchy when he got out of bed, probably from how much he tends to scream when he shoots or when he needs to wind out, and the weather doesn’t make it better. Mom has allowed him to attend class as soon as he wore a mask just in case he really is sick, so at least it doesn’t cause as much annoyance as it could have. There’s that already!

He read again and again his presentation notes, last night, to the point he doesn’t remember at what time he packed his bag for the last time and went to bed. He assumes fairly late, since it was so difficult to open his eyes this morning. He supposes the urge to yawn will fade out after some time: just thinking of his upcoming presentation jolts him awake.

 Class soon begins, which doesn’t surprise him since he was a little late due to negotiating with Mom. The air inside the room is the complete opposite to outside: it’s warm and stuffy, to the point he’s sweating under his uniform, and the difference between the two makes him a little dizzy. He doesn’t remember the classroom feeling that hot yesterday, or the day before for that matter, so it’s a little weird – but he remembers a couple of his teammates (Hayami and Hamano, if he’s not mistaken) complaining about the heaters in the classrooms of Raimon and how drastically they can function from one day to the other, so it must be the heater… maybe.

(He hopes it is, at least, because at times, he feels colder than he feels warm and it’s starting to dawn on him: maybe he’s sick and is just trying not to think he is).

 His presentation goes mostly like he planned it to be. He’s not the first to go to the board nor the last, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about being the first or last impressions of the class: that’s already some sort of relief. There’s an issue, however, and it’s not because of his notes or how everyone is reacting: it’s with his throat, which won’t stop scratching, and he has to cough a little from time to time. The teacher doesn’t say anything about it, even if she must be at least a little annoyed by the sound of his voice.

When he finally gets to go back to his seat, he can’t keep a coughing fit in, prompting everyone him to stare at him, dumbfounded. He finds himself rushing to his seat in embarrasment with an unsoothable throat and his legs almost flinching. Not his day… not his day… Practice will make it better, though, he’s sure of it! It’s got to, it’s practice, with the team! With his friends! There’s no way that’ll make the situation worse.

 He eats lunch on the roof of the school, today. Well, actually, he doesn’t feel that hungry, but he needed to head somewhere that wasn’t as smotheringly hot as the school: the outside seemed perfect for that. The wind is blowing gently through the trees surrounding Raimon, with nobody speaking to break the immersion. He should probably be more concerned than that not to be as affected by the wintery cold outside, but Hikaru doesn’t quite know why: he’s just not cold.

On second thought, never mind, he’s freezing out here. The thing is, he still doesn’t want to go inside his class’s room in case he infects someone: he’s pretty sure he’s sick, by now, and the last thing he wants is to see someone catch whatever he’s infected with. It’s most likely nothing big – probably just a cold – but it can be a pain and grow into something more dangerous. He can sustain the cold a little as he tries to eat some of his bento for a couple minutes so none of that happens, right?

 To his surprise, he comes across Tenma and Shinsuke going back to their classroom on the same floor as his. He’s never seen them around, probably because he’s usually inside by this time. They run up to him, smiling, before he sees their faces change as soon as they notice he’s wearing a mask.

“Wait, are you okay, Hikaru?” Tenma asks, suddenly frowning.

“Ah, y-yeah, I’m fine!”

“You’re wearing a mask, though… Doesn’t that mean you’re sick?” Shinsuke questions, as doubtful as one could be.

“It’s just in case I am! My mom wanted me to wear it for today.”

It’s not lying to them if that’s true, right? (His voice sounds very bizarre, like it’s not even is). Neither of his teammates sound convinced, however.

“I see!” Tenma replies with one eyebrow lifted and the other still down. “We’ll see you for practice, then. See ya!”

“See you later!”

On that, both Shinsuke and he leave, waving at him before disappearing inside their classroom.

 Guilt (of having at least partially lied to his friends, of not being fully honest about his own worries) eats Hikaru more and more as afternoon classes go on. He’s now nursing a headache that prompts him to drop his pen from time to time so he can rub a temple and hope it goes away (it never does, instead it lingers and strenghtens). He’s having a difficult time following what the teacher is saying despite usually having no issue with math since, each time he tries to focus, his headache worsens and he’s left whistling the pain away under his teeth.

The itch in his throat hasn’t faded away, far from it: it’s not seizing his entire neck. He tries to keep the feeling away by clearing his throat and short bursts of coughing, but it doesn’t work. He knows it’s a vicious cycle, that the more he coughs the more his throat gets irritated; yet he can’t help it, it’s almost as if the gesture is what is keeping him calm despite the bad presentiment bubbling in his stomach about this.

 He really doesn’t want to bail out on the team.

 At some point, the teacher asks if he wants to go to the nurse’s office after a fit he didn’t manage to keep to himself (it just burst out without him being unable to do anything – he’s the first bothered by this), prompting him to finally rise his head and notice everyone’s staring at him again, except this time, he can tell they’re not so judgemental. He doesn’t like it much more than the impression he got this morning, but he supposes it’s better.

“No need, sir,” Hikaru replies, trying to put on his best smile under his mask. “I’m fine!”

His voice contradicts him, considering it sounds like glass paper, and he wonders how it’s gotten downhill so fast.

“If you say so, Kageyama.” The teacher sounds as convinced as Tenma and Shinsuke did earlier – which means not much, if any. “Simply rise your hand if you need to go there, understood?”

“Okay!”

 He doesn’t ask to go to the infirmary for the rest of the afternoon classes, instead trying to muffle his coughing fits as much as possible. Maybe he should, because the temperatures are starting to make less and less sense and everything feels heavy; but he doesn’t want anyone to worry. It’s all he can say, really, and maybe if he convinces the others, then he’ll convince himself everything is well and good.

Classes end and after them comes practice, so he runs out of the classroom with only a few “I’m all good!” to spare and heads straight for the inside soccer field. The air outside once again tries to bite at his lungs, but he only allows it to get a couple coughing fits from it. The main casualty of it is, in the end, his voice – and he’s afraid it means he won’t be able to tell everyone he’s actually not doing too bad, that he can actually practice with them for the match.

 When he arrives at the club and says everyone hello, the glances his teammates give him just amplify the fear in his chest. Several of them ask him the dreaded question, to which his answer still hasn’t changed, and Shinsuke points out how tired his voice sounds. He doesn’t have much to do but to admit he’s a little sick, ignoring the way his uniform is sticking to his skin and the way the world is starting to spin around him.

Even as he changes in the lockers, the feeling doesn’t go away. He can only pray nobody else notices the chills going down his body and the fact he looks like he’s already practiced – would he look into the mirror for more than necessary when refreshing his face in an attempt to make the fever vanish from his cheeks, he’d notice the fatigue isn’t just visible on his body.

He puts away his mask inside his bag and exits the changing room’s bathroom, intending on practicing like everyone else and to stay home tomorrow. (Wait, that’d worry them, wouldn’t it? Ha, he’s in quite the predicament, isn’t he?).

 Running around is difficult when his throat is pratically begging him to stop and so is doing literally anything on the field. The voices around him are floating, his surroundings keep blurring on and off, the coughing fits are tearing his throat apart. Even after the warmups, he can feel Trainer Kidou’s heavy glance on his shoulders and his teammate’s doubts all around him like a collar that’s buttoned-up too tightly around his neck.

Still, he tries to convince himself it’ll all be fine in the end. It’s just a practice session and he’s sure his teammates have practiced through worse pains than his throat bothering him to no end. The only thing that makes him weaver in his convictions is the way the words he tries to say tend to break apart by the end, his voice suddenly shifting in tones as if someone played nonsensically on his vocal cords (the imagery makes him squeamish, so he tries to focus back onto practice, no matter how much the day has exhausted him and how difficult it is to keep up his optimism).

 His bad day clearly doesn’t end there either as, for the first time in a while, someone stops Extend Zone before it can even reach the goal, without even responding with a technique of their own. He watches the purple ball lose its firepower in the hands of his teammate and falls to his knees, the artificial grace rubbing against them, as he loses control over his own body.

He doesn’t even do it on purpose: it’s merely because his legs give in from the shock and the sudden wave of exhaustion. He’d be glad to rise back to his feet too, especially considering he hears and sees everyone running to where he is, saying either of his names in worried voices; but he’s trapped in a coughing fit, yet again, and this one only ends with him almost choking.

 The first to reach him is the one who stopped Extend Zone: Kirino, who was merely on the trajectory of the technique because he miscalculated where he was on the field and where the goal was compared to his position. He kneels to his level, putting his hand on his shoulders, only to grip on his shirt in an attempt not to take them off.

“Coach,” Kirino says with a sense of urgency in his voice he can still sense despite his weakened state, “he’s burning up!”

 As if teleporting there, Coach Endou takes only seconds before arriving to them, running faster than they’ve ever seen him do. From what Hikaru can understand through the water he feels submerged in, the coach is pushing the others away to let him breathe, before doing like Kirino did earlier and crouching so he can see the man’s face. He’s frowning and there’s little Hikaru can do about it, as much as it pains him to see that expression, especially knowing it must be his fault’s.

The back of a strong hand lands on his forehead, cool to the touch, and he’s tempted to give into the temptation of just leaning into it and let himself be carried away; but he knows he shouldn’t do that and only appreciates the coldness in silence, like a good child.

 “I’m…” He tries to reply, pushing on his arms after yet another coughing fit. “Fi…”

His voice breaks again, deforming into that of a person he doesn’t know who’d switch between ranges, his words never finishing before he coughs again.

“You’re not,” Coach Endou comments matter-of-factly, uncharacteristically unenthusiastic, “and that’s okay, Hikaru.”

He finally rises his head, only to realize his coach has been smiling to him all along. That last bit of coughing has left him with tears in his eyes so his vision is a little blurry, but he can sense it: Coach Endou is smiling.

“You’re…” No matter what he does, his voice sounds broken. “You’re sure…?”

“I’m sure.”

 Tenma gets closer.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Hikaru?” He asks, sounding strangely quieter than he usually does. “Nobody would have held it against you, right guys?”

From what he can hear, most of the team says yes to the question.

“See?” Ah, Tenma’s smiling, that’s good. “You’ve got nothing to worry about!”

“So, why didn’t you tell us?” Shindou, who appears from behind Kirino, asks.

“I’m not sure if he has the voice remaining to tell us,” the latter replies. “Better ask him when he’ll be better, if you ask me.”

“That’s true. We’ll wait until you get better.”

 Coach Endou gives him a hand, so Hikaru takes it, almost falls from a sudden lack of balance. His senses are all mudded, but he can feel the warmth of the team’s appreciation on him, and that’s more than enough for now, he thinks.

Too bad he can’t tell them how thankful he is, at the moment.

[buckybarnesbingo]

BBB Discord Party Round Robin

What started out as simple summary, one prompt and one sentence per person, ended up being so intriguing that we went all-out and created a fic!  Each person was given about half an hour to write up to 300 words, and the option to cross off one of their bingo squares, and this is the glorious result!

Prompts

cookies 

dragon

window cleaning

potato salad

cat stalker

sharing a bed

beach

Participants

@rebelmeg​

@fightingforcreativity​

@ladydarkphoenix-blog​

@psychiccatpanda​

@dreaminglypeach​

@ibelieveinturtles​

LiquidLightz

@menatiera​

Summary: To say that Bucky had been surprised when a FREAKING DRAGON showed up at the summer BBQ at his beach house would be an understatement. How should the ex assassin have anticipated a dragon, who seemed to have followed his cat to the BBQ? It didn't seem to be dangerous as of yet seeing as the two were happily sharing potato salad.

When Tony showed up late, he nudged Bucky, "Hey Buckaroo - I brought - WHOA! I didn't know you had a... cat."

Sure, it’s the cat that surprises you, Bucky thought, but Tony was still talking a mile a minute around the cookie in his mouth, “So, anyway, I brought that- fuck, is he your window cleaner, he’s gorgeous!”

"Window cleaning is just one of the many services I offer," the dragon said swinging it's head around to stare unblinking at Tony.

Bucky jolts back and stares at the dragon as he recognises the sound of that voice, then quickly pulls his phone out to text Steve... "where exactly are you right now?"

Steve doesn't answer his phone, obviously, but a telltale notification sound pings from somewhere inside the dragon's belly, audible through the slightly open mouth of the creature, and Bucky has to rub the base of his nose, muttering, "of fucking course you do this reveal to me after we've been sharing a bed for weeks."

And you can find the rest of the fic under the cut!

@rebelmeg

Tony, another cookie in his hand, held up a finger. “Um, excuse me, I hate to be nitpicky about weird details when Steve has apparently turned into a dragon, BUT…” he pointed at the dragon.  “Did I hear a cell phone in there? How did you manage to SWALLOW A CELL PHONE?”

Steve turned his large, scaly head in Tony’s direction, and it was amazing, he actually managed to have an extremely Steve expression on that reptilian face. “Classified.”

Tony snorted and dipped a plastic spoon into the potato salad. “You’re a lying liar who lies. And you’re going to need some very intense tech support for that phone by the time it gets… out.  And oh, ew, all of the options for how it gets out are just disgusting.”

Bucky, who had been standing there fighting the temptation to call Steve (he wanted to see what happened when the swallowed cell phone started vibrating and ringing), dragged himself back to the conversation. “Steve, I think you might wanna tell us exactly what’s going on.” He glanced at the cat that was now sitting next to Steve and very daintily licking its paws. “Maybe start with the cat?”

LiquidLightz

The dragon remained stubbornly quiet, a strange fiery blush spreading across its face.

Bucky waited him out for a full minute before he threateningly pulled out his phone and began to dial... 

"Ok, OK!"  Steve caved in as the first riffs of ‘Holding Out for a Hero’ echoed around inside of him and Bucky’s eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously as he mercifully ended the call while Tony coughed up cookie crumbs from all his cackling…  great, thanks Nat!  One more thing he would be having to explain later in excruciating detail.

Raising his huge snout skyward with a big defeated sigh, Steve let out a little spurt of fire before starting on some ridiculous explanation about how he had wanted to look good for the BBQ, so Nat suggested he go to a day spa she knows, but he had nobody to leave the cat with and so he took him along since they offered pet day care services... 

He trailed off as the laughter of everyone around him burst out in a crescendo and he leveled his steely gaze back down on them, now irritated beyond embarrassment. 

Bucky was the first one to compose himself, once Tony started making hot stone massage dragon jokes and he quickly recalled what was most pertinent here. 

"Steve, can you please get to the part where you're a dragon and if this is something you've been keeping from me or a temporary mishap?"  Bucky was not exactly sure what he'd prefer, since, well, dragons are pretty magnificent and he wouldn't mind having his own. His mind began to wander into the possible perks of a dragon boyfriend and whether Steve could fly now.

@psychiccatpanda

Dragons can scowl - that was a thing Bucky knew now.  

Steve harrumphed and glared, trying to work through his embarrassment.  “So I never actually made it to the day spa. I went to bed last night and the cat I adopted when you got Alpine - d”

“Inky?”  Bucky asked.

“No, I called him Beetle,” Steve said with a puff of steam.

“Still say Beetle’s a dumb name for a cat,” Bucky mumbled.

Tony nodded in agreement and helped himself to another cookie. “I’m gonna start the grill, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine Tony,” Bucky said and then tried to turn the conversation back to the dragon boyfriend issue. “So you slept with the cat and now you’re a dragon? Or were you a dragon before?”

“No. I’m not a dragon… well, I wasn’t,” Steve sighed. “So Beetle slept with me, sneezed… and turned into a guy named Loki. I freaked out, he got mad, and turned me into a dragon.”

From the grill, Tony said, “So where’s this guy now, Steeb?”

“I wish I knew,” Dragon Steve said miserably.

“Meow?” Alpine interjected himself and twined between the dragon’s toes and Bucky’s legs to situate himself at Tony’s feet. He looked up with wide blue eyes.

@menatiera

Steve turned his gaze to the cat. “I know, I know,” he said. “Food will be ready for you soon.”

Bucky’s eyebrow arched up. “If you tell me that you can talk to animals…”

The fiery blush somehow deepened on Steve’s dragon face. “Uh, not all animals. But cats… I think they speak a dialect of dragon, somehow, because I kinda understand them now.”

Instead of answering, Bucky decided it was a good time to stuff his mouth with two cookies at once, lest he let out a scream of excitement.

Alpine jumped on the table, and started to rub his face to Steve’s scales. He kept this up, right until Steve started to breathe heavily, and with one final tickling of his full body, Alpine threw himself off the table and ran under the cover of it.

Steve sneezed.

Several times.

With violent force.

The table turned out to be an inadequate hiding place, as it was blown away by the wind of the squeeze, along with most of the BBQ supplies, including the plates, utensils and napkins.

Tony was saved thanks to Bucky’s quick reflexes, who dragged him out of the way of a flying pitcher that was full of hot water to become Bruce’s tea later.

Steve was sniffling and scratching his snout. “Sorry,” he said nasally, then he stared at the ground. “Uh. I think the phone’s out.”

Bucky didn’t want to know. But he kind of did. “How did it get to your lung? Or is a dragon belly connected to sneezing somehow?”

Alpine slowly walked back into the scene, stepping into the dragon snot with delicate disdain, and poked the phone with his nose. He meowed a few times.

“He wants us to look at it,” Steve translated. “He says something about messages. Or notes? I’m not entirely sure. I’m not fluent in cat yet.”

@dreaminglypeach

My boyfriend the dragon isn’t fluent in cat yet, Bucky thought. How is this my life?

“Well, go on, then,” Tony encouraged, wafting his hand at the phone as Alpine curled into Steve’s side again, seeking warmth despite the fact that it’d been far too goddamn sunny all day.

“I would,” Steve said, raising one clawed… paw? Hand? Strangely enough, Bucky had no idea what the anatomy of a dragon is. “But there’s this whole no opposable thumbs issue at the moment.”

Tony looked at Bucky. Bucky looked back at Tony. Neither of them moved to pick up the phone.

“He’s your boyfriend.”

“And?”

Tony scoffed. “And that means you get to be the one playing with the phone he ate, duh.”

“I hate you,” Bucky said. “I hate both of you. And whoever this Loki jackass is, I really fucking hate him.”

Steve made a bizarre snarly noise, maybe a draconine laugh, maybe a growl, then nudged the phone in Bucky’s direction with his nose. “You know the passcode,” he said, baring a whole load of pointy teeth at him.

Dutifully, Bucky picked the disgusting thing up, wiped the slime coating it on his jeans (well, those were being burnt now), and tapped out his own date of birth to unlock it.

“Ha!” Tony said when it unlocked, peering at the screen over Bucky’s shoulder. “Stark Tech. Can’t beat it. I’d like to see an iPhone keep working after spending time inside a dragon.”

“Do we know a Valkyrie?” Bucky asked, ignoring Tony’s bragging to look at the long string of messages Steve apparently received over the last three hours. “Because she sure seems to know you, and boy is she unhappy.”

“Never heard of her,” Steve answered. “What’s she say?”

“Rogers,” Tony read, “be careful, Thor’s brother is

@ladydarkphoenix-blog 

on the loose and looking to cause trouble. Not sure what exactly but he is looking for mischief. Well that can't be good."

"Obviously not seeing as I'm now a dragon," Steve snorted in annoyance, a small puff of smoke escaping his nose.

"So how do we fix this," Bucky inquired as he sent back a text explaining the situation as it was before setting the phone down to not have to deal with the slimy mess for a moment. As the three discussed options and people they thought might be able to help, Alpine let out an angry yowl as he seemingly started floating away from where he'd been napping.

Steve let out a low rumbling growl, "don't touch him Loki or I'll eat you myself…"

Loki appeared, holding a fighting Alpine by the scruff to protect himself from claws and teeth. "Now is that any way to speak to an honored guest?"

@fightingforcreativity

“An honored guest my ass,” mumbled Bucky, pointedly ignoring the snickering coming from Tony.

“My my, so rude the company you keep, Anthony.” Loki drawled, still holding Alpine and only slightly being turned towards the three heroes. “I was just hoping my gift was well received.”

Tony sputtered at that. The assassin turned towards the other brunet, a questioning eyebrow risen. Tony, though, ignored him and started to ramble at Loki, “Serious? I hate that name. Stop calling me that, Reindeer Games! Why are you here? And what’s going on with Steve as a dragon? I mean sure, dragons are pretty cool and he’s quite a beauty like this but c’mon, Lokes, usually your mischief is directed against Thor not Steve.”

Sure, Bucky could say something about Tony obviously eyeing his dragon boyfriend up- and what a mess that was- but he was more interested in what the heck really was going on. Maybe after they figured out Loki's motive, Bucky could think about why Steve preened under Tony’s compliments.

Also, Bucky wasn’t sure what was going on at all between Loki and Tony, but by the look of it Steve had an idea. How Bucky could interpret his boyfriend’s limited facial expressions at the moment, was another mystery to be shoved in the ‘to never investigate’ box.

Before Loki could answer, the dragon rounded on him. “I told you to let him go!”

Steve’s hiss was threatening and Bucky didn’t blame Loki for gently putting Alpine back done and backing up a bit after that. “Fine. The good captain was collateral damage in my attempt at wooing.”

Everyone froze at that. 

‘Wooing? What the…?!’, Bucky thought disbelievingly. 

The first person to recover was Steve though, and cautiously the formerly blond asked, “Wooing who?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Anthony of course!”

@ibelieveinturtles

There was stunned silence as everyone gaped at Loki, then Steve started huffing, little bursts of flame spouting from his nostrils.

"Are-are you laughing at me?" Loki demanded haughtily. 

Steve shook his head. "The look on Tony’s face!" he chortled. "It's like he doesn't know whether to be flattered, insulted, or just plain horrified."

They all looked at Tony, who made an immediate attempt to control his face.

"Flattered," he said hastily, "definitely flattered but, er, I'm not sure how Pepper's gonna react."

Loki drew himself up. "It was her suggestion," he said. 

"Pepper suggested you turn me into a dragon as a courting… gift?"

Loki nodded. "She assured me you have the ego to pull it off."

Steve began to huff again and this time, both Loki and Tony glared at him.

"What?" Steve asked.

"She's not wrong," Bucky interjected in an effort to save his boyfriend from all the attention. "Also, she may have mentioned to me last week that dragons are her favourite mythical animal," he finished.

"Indeed," Loki said, smirking. "She told me she always wanted to ride a dragon."

Bucky's laughter joined Steve's draconic huffing and Tony’s expression changed.

"Really?" he asked.

"Of course," Loki replied. "It is a most exhilarating activity."

Bucky stopped laughing as an idea slammed into his mind. He turned a speculative gaze in Steve's direction. Steve must have felt the weight of Bucky's gaze as the giant head turned to look at him.

"Something on your mind? Steve asked in a surprisingly quiet voice.

Bucky nodded. "That riding a dragon thing," he said.

Steve's eyes glittered. "You wanna try it out?"

"Yes."

They looked at Tony and Loki who were now standing much closer together and seemed to be deep in some sort of negotiations. 

"Climb on," Steve said. "Before Loki remembers to change me back."

Bucky scrambled up Steve's outstretched leg and settled himself in front of Steve's wings.

"Ready?" Steve rumbled, and without waiting for an answer, launched himself into the air.

Bucky whooped as they climbed. This had undoubtedly been the best BBQ ever.

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

Title: BBB Round Robin Fic Collaborators: Rebelmeg, Fightingforcreativity, Ladydarkphoenix, Psychiccatpanda, Dreaminglypeach, Ibelieveinturtles, Liquidlightz, Menatiera Squares filled:

Rebelmeg: Y2 - tech support

LiquidLightz (LLightz): B3 - spa day

Menatiera: U4 - hot water

Dreaminglypeach: B1 - sharing body heat

Ladydarkphoenix: U5 - "Don't touch him!"

Fightingforcreativity: B4 - Collateral Damage

Ibelieveinturtles: K2 - Whiplash

Ship: Stucky, hinted Stony or Stuckony, Pepperony, pre-FrostIron /FrostPepperony Rating: Gen Major Tags: round robin fic, dragon Steve, animal transformation, Loki shenanigans, cats, multiple ships, hijinks and shenanigans Summary: To say that Bucky had been surprised when a FREAKING DRAGON showed up at the summer BBQ at his beach house would be an understatement. How should the ex assassin have anticipated a dragon, who seemed to have followed his cat to the BBQ? It didn't seem to be dangerous as of yet seeing as the two were happily sharing potato salad.

When Tony showed up late, he nudged Bucky, "Hey Buckaroo - I brought - WHOA! I didn't know you had a... cat."

Sure, it’s the cat that surprises you, Bucky thought, but Tony was still talking a mile a minute around the cookie in his mouth, “So, anyway, I brought that- fuck, is he your window cleaner, he’s gorgeous!”

"Window cleaning is just one of the many services I offer," the dragon said swinging it's head around to stare unblinking at Tony.

Bucky jolts back and stares at the dragon as he recognises the sound of that voice, then quickly pulls his phone out to text Steve... "where exactly are you right now?"

Steve doesn't answer his phone, obviously, but a telltale notification sound pings from somewhere inside the dragon's belly, audible through the slightly open mouth of the creature, and Bucky has to rub the base of his nose, muttering, "of fucking course you do this reveal to me after we've been sharing a bed for weeks." Word Count: 2300

[interstellarflare]

Loved You Dangerously - Thomas Shelby

-PART NINE-

Song: Dangerously - Charlie Puth (slowed)

Warnings: Violence, swearing - this chapter will contain gore.

Summary: I loved you dangerously, more than the air that I breathe. Knew we would crash at the speed that we were going, didn’t care if the explosion ruined me. Baby, I loved you dangerously, Mmmm, mmmm. I loved you dangerously.

An arranged marriage to one of London’s most notorious criminals isn’t something that you planned for. But when you so happen to be kidnapped by the one and only Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders, your story takes a drastic turn full of lies, deception, and a love that you never thought possible.

Author’s Note: This is a series that is all my own. Events happening within will not directly correlate with the actual show. This is a bit of a long chapter, sorry, and there will most likely be many spelling errors which I will edit later. But nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy!

“I’m not sure if I can do this” I mused nervously, folding my arms over my chest in a somewhat pouting manner.

Thomas laughed loudly, the sound echoing out across the pasture as amusement settled on his features. He shook his head, approaching me slowly with a small gesture of his hand. “I wouldn’t let you handle a weapon if I didn’t trust you to use it” he responded, casually removing a small revolver-type pistol from the holster inside his jacket and placing it in the palm of his hand. With a strange calmness I had never seen before, Thomas extended the weapon toward me, his eyes moving between his hand and my own hesitant eyes.

I shook my head, biting my lip anxiously as I threw my arms out in protest. “No, I’m not doing this-” “Y/n, come on” Thomas tried to reason, his shoulders slumping in a tired and mocking nature. “You might be okay with shooting someone, Tommy, but I’ve never even held something like that!” I explained, pointing towards the weapon still in his hand. He sighed somewhat frustratedly, allowing his head to tilt to the side as he spoke, “And that is why I am going to teach you. It’s really simple, and I promise I won’t let anything happen to you” he tried to reason, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

It had been two days since the altercation with Alfie’s lackey, two days since the said man had completely disappeared. Two days since that kiss.

My heart fluttered at the memory, a strange feeling spreading through my chest as I remembered the feeling of his lips against mine. Since that moment in the billiard room, Tommy had never left my side. I grumbled under my breath, Thomas’ deep chuckle only making my annoyance grow. “Fine...” I snapped quickly, the man before me nodding his approval with a smug grin “show me what to do”.

I took the weapon from Thomas’ grasp, flinching at the cool metal. It was an unfamiliar feeling, holding something so dangerous. I allowed myself to adjust to the weight of the revolver, my hands somewhat trembling as I sighed shakily. “Alright, the first thing you have to do is stand side on...” Thomas instructed, placing his hand on my shoulders and turning me to the side. “Okay-” “Now, hold your arm out and aim towards the tree” he continued, standing off to the side and watching me closely. I did as I was told, holding my arm out towards the large oakwood tree. Straining with the unfamiliar weight of the weapon in my grasp, I was oblivious to Thomas coming up from behind, suddenly pulling my body close to his without warning.

A small gasp escaped my lips in shock, his chest vibrating lightly as a deep chuckle resonated from within him. I watched him smirk almost triumphantly from the corner of my eye, as he extended his arm along mine, steadying the weapon in my hand with his own as he gently grasped my wrist. “Now...” he whispered lowly, his lips only inches away from my ear “all you have to do is steady your hand...and fire when ready”.

I shivered at the sensation, his breath slightly ghosting the shell of my ear as I attempted to readjust my aim. When I felt confident, I slowly squeezed the trigger, flinching slightly at the loud bang that resonated from the weapon. Thomas chuckled lightly as I stumbled back against his chest, keeping me upright so I wouldn’t fall. “See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Thomas retorted teasingly, causing me to roll my eyes with a breathless scoff. “I suppose not...” I responded allowing my arm to fall to my side “although I stand by what I said earlier”. I felt Thomas’ hands carefully move up to my shoulders, his fingertips gently caressing the nape of my neck and leaving a ghosting sensation across my skin. I shivered involuntarily, causing the man behind me to laugh deeply.

Leaning into his touch, I smiled up at him sadly. “You know, we shouldn’t be doing this out in the open-” “What are you so afraid of?” Thomas asked quietly, his head tilting to the side in wait for my answer. I began to grow frustrated, handing the weapon back to him with an annoyed sigh “You have done so much for me. If someone saw us, if one of Alfie’s men saw us...I don’t want anyone getting hurt, Tommy. I just-” My breath hitched in my throat as Thomas lunged forward, cupping the side of my face with his free hand as he captured my lips in his own. His other hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against his body with a deep chuckle. It was a gruelling task to not melt completely in his arms, as I slowly pulled away from his kiss. Smirking devilishly, Thomas stared down at my smaller form with a loving gaze, his cocky expression forcing me to punch his shoulder lightly. His gaze suddenly fell, a low sigh escaping him. “I will be in Birmingham tonight. I have some...business, to take care of”.

My chest tightened, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. I nodded slowly, biting my lip anxiously as I stuttered awkwardly “I-Is Arthur going?”. Thomas nodded. “John?”. He nodded again. I didn’t dare ask about Polly, a scared part of me already knew his answer. I watched from the corner of my eye as Thomas approached, linking his arm through mine as he sighed through his nose. “You’ll be left in the care of some of the maids, as well as a few of my own men who will be guarding the house...” He began, tightening his grip around my arm comfortingly “you know that I wouldn’t do this unless it was absolutely necessary-” “I know...I know. I just, I would feel safer if any one of you were here”.

Thomas then pulled my body towards him in a comforting embrace, I welcomed his touch as buried my head into his chest. Thomas chuckled faintly, “If it helps, I don’t think Alfie would be stupid enough to strike again after his last attempt-” he laughed as I scoffed, pushing him away playfully before storming back towards the mansion. I turned to smile at him over my shoulder, my heart warming greatly as he Thomas smiled in return.

The Shelby family had departed for Birmingham a few hours ago. It was now nightfall, the grounds of the mansion were deathly silent.

I sat once again at the small wooden table in the mansion’s kitchen, chatting idly with one of the maids that cared for the Shelby household. Only just ascending into womanhood, Talia was only fifteen, and had been working for the Shelby’s only for a short time. She had cared for me when I had arrived here at the mansion, and I felt horrible for not getting to know her sooner. We talked about our lives, how we both somehow ended up here under the Shelby’s roof. Talia explained that her family lived in Birmingham, and had sold her to the streets to earn a living. Polly had found her slumped against The Garrison walls, and offered her a good paying job, and shelter here as a maid.

For the first time in a long, long while, I told Talia about my arranged marriage to Alfie. Aside from Thomas, Talia was the only person I had opened up to about this whole issue, but that didn’t stop her from playfully teasing me about the fact that Thomas and I had grown close in the months that I had been here. My relationship with the leader of the Peaky Blinders, apparently, was a hot topic of conversation around the mansion grounds. I was astounded, bewildered even.

Later that night, Talia and I ventured into my room upstairs, having been scolded by the head housekeeper Agatha for creating a mess in the kitchen in our attempt to bake a cake. We both giggled to ourselves as we sat on the bed, talking about anything that came to our minds. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask...” Talia spoke quietly, cringing as she spoke “what will you do if Alfie does find you? Given what’s already happened, he obviously won’t stop until he has you back”. I fell silent, trying to come up with an answer. I shook my head, sighing heavily as I closed my eyes in thought “I honestly don’t know. My father no doubt wants Alfie to stop at nothing to get me back, but Thomas is just-”

A loud crash sounded from downstairs, followed by various frightened shouts. My stomach churned, my heart staggering in its rhythm. My eyes widened as rushed footsteps thumped up the staircase, a muffled voice ordering several unknown names to search each and every room. My gaze immediately turned to Talia, her eyes glimmering with fearful tears. I rushed forward, grabbing her by her shoulders and forcing her into the adjoined bathroom. “Lock the door behind you...” I urged her, smiling as reassuringly as I could “you do not open this door for anyone but me, do you understand?”. Talia nodded quickly, quietly shutting the door with a faint ‘click’ of the lock. With a shaky breath, I quietly approached my bedroom door, carefully peering out into the hallway. There was no one outside, except for a few shadows that danced underneath the doorframe in the room across from my own. I made a silent dash for the hall, thanking whatever god there was that I wasn’t caught.

I had to reach Thomas’ office without getting caught, which I knew was a lot easier said than done. Voices came from every direction, muffled and not, and it was impossible to tell exactly where they were coming from. But after cowering behind several pieces of furniture in the hallways, I managed to reach Thomas’ office. A single ray of moonlight shone through the curtains, illuminating the room enough for me to navigate my way around. Closing the door behind me with a soft ‘click’, I then dashed over to the desk, where I knew Thomas kept one of his pistols in a draw concealed beneath a pile of old paperwork. As I rummaged through the draws’ contents, a faint ‘snick’ caused me ti freeze, my eyes widening as my gaze lifted to the door. Standing in the doorframe was the same man from two nights ago, his face contorted with multiple cuts and bruises, and his eyes burning with a vengeful fire.

My fingers graced the cool metal of the weapon beneath the papers as he approached, a crazed smirk crossing his beaten lips. “You didn’t think I’d just lie down and die, did you?” he spoke darkly, his voice low and hoarse. I gulped, my gaze never leaving his approaching form. He chuckled, the metal of his revolver illuminated by the natural light of the room. With his weapon still aimed in my direction, he sauntered over and around the desk towards my form “Alfie’s changed his mind, you know. He’s given us boys permission to kill you, and blame your murder on the Shelby’s. Or, we can bring you back alive, which to me is boring”. As my hand moved to grasp the revolver in the draw, Alfie’s lackey swung his arm, his weapon colliding with the side of my face. A sharp cry escaped my lips as I collapsed to the ground, releasing the revolver from my hold, my ears ringing and and head pounding, I tried to scramble away from the man behind me to no avail. Dazed and confused, I tried to swat away his hands as they gripped my arms, hauling me to my feet before he picked me up effortlessly, tossing my form over his shoulder.

I screamed, thrashing about in his grip as he carried me away from Thomas’ office, down the grand staircase, and out of the mansion towards an awaiting car. I continued to thrash around, screaming and cursing until I was harshly dropped to the ground, with Arthur’s lackey kneeling down to the gravel path and pressing the barrel of the revolver to my temple. “Shut the fuck up, or I’ll blow your fucking head off. You understand!?” he yelled threateningly, as I regretfully sobbed a pathetic reply. My hands stung from the gravel beneath, warm tears streaming down my cheeks as I struggled to stand. “Do we really have to do this?” a young voice spoke timidly, “she doesn’t-” “Do you want your money or not?” The man beside me spat, gripping my arm and hauling me to my feet. This couldn’t be happening, I couldn’t let this happen. While I might have been a crying mess, I wasn’t about to be taken back to that monster of a man without a fight.

With a loud cry, I wrenched my arm free from his grip, and took off at a sprint back towards the mansion. I didn’t make it far though, as a strong force tackled me from behind, the both of us crashing to the gravel once again. I was flipped onto my back, struggling to remove myself from beneath Alfie’s lackey as he tried to aim his revolver straight towards my forehead. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you if I have to!” she shouted, landing a strong punch to the side of my face. Ignoring the taste of copper filling my mouth, I fought against his hold, grabbing his hand and trying to turn the weapon away from my form. It was a great struggle, my arms straining against his strength. My gaze met his, an expression of rage contorting his features as he released a loud battle cry before pulling the trigger.

Time seemed to slow down as all the air left my lungs, leaving me dazed and confused as the man atop me froze, warm red droplets hitting my face in a violent spray. It was then that I could feel a warmer sensation spreading across my abdomen, soaking my clothes completely. But there was no pain. Alfie’s lackey sputtered, coughing loudly as blood dribbled from his mouth. It was then that I looked down, my lips trembling as tears cascaded down my cheeks. Somehow during our struggle, I had managed to grab his revolver. I don’t even remember pulling the trigger. The man atop me gurgled, falling forward onto my body before going completely still. I lay on the gravel in shock, my entire body trembling as my breathing became erratic.

I had killed him. I killed him...I had shot him.

I began to sob, shakily pushing the body atop mine aside and scrambling to my feet. I felt sick, the smell of iron filling my nose as I turned to face the men standing beside the car further up the way. I can’t imagine how I must have looked, but I must have looked quite terrifying if it was enough to scare them. A sudden anger surged in my chest, a blood-curdling scream escaping me as I aimed towards Alfie’s men. They cried out in fear, scrambling into their car as I fired the first shot, the bullet shattering the glass windscreen. They drove away at full speed, not once looking back as I threw the revolver as far into the pasture as I could.

I collapsed onto the ground before, traumatised by the body who’s life I had taken. Traumatised by the blood that coated every inch of my hands and my clothes. I screamed into the night until the early hours of the morning, anguished and ugly sobs until I could no longer scream. No one came outside, no one came to get me. If they did, I hadn’t heard them. The cold numbed my body even more, but I couldn’t feel anything. 

It wasn’t until the night sky faded to morning grey, enveloped by a haunting white mist, that the valley had fallen silent. A single car drove down the driveway towards the Warwickshire Mansion. I slowly looked up, a broken sob leaving my lips as I immediately recognised the figure sprinting towards me, his loud cries of my name bringing some form of warmth back to my broken body.

Tag list: @supermassiveblackhope @affabletimelady @spaghettirogers @audioshoes @gabriellepearce96 @twin-skltns @daisyxbuckley @arachnidscosmopoliton @ljb-novels @lordofthunderthr @hereticpriest @captivatedbycillianmurphy@imnotuglyimjustpredebut @lovelynerdytraveler @rhiannon-the-troublemaker​ @adepressedstudentslife​ @affection-rabbit

[beetlebitchywitch]

Some Fun Bajo/Cia Angst

I HAVE REQUESTS AND I SHOULD BE FILLING THEM BUT SOMETIMES YOU GO FERAL FOR YOUR MAFIA BOYS THAT ARE IN LOVE BUT CAN’T ADMIT IT I’M SO SORRY I’M USELESS BUT HERE IT IS

See @monsterlovinghours for more info on The Conglomerate, a Beetlejuice Mafia AU

WARNING: Some soft NSFW content, internalized homophobia, herein lies pain 

Cia had been around for a long time. A long time. He’d seen people come and go, seen love ignite and fizzle out in the blink of an eye. He’d seen so many men, women, amorphous eldritch horrors, that they all started to blend together in his mind. But then, his closest, dearest friends rushed into his afterlife and turned it upside down. Just like him in the most important ways, and unlike him in the most important ways as well. They were his closest confidantes, his dearest brothers in arms, his best friends, and occasionally, his lovers. He adored them with his whole heart, and they adored him back.

And then, Escarabajo came along.

It should have been the same. A new best friend, a supportive shoulder to lean on, just like Zhuk or Gio or Bee, but God was it different. From the very beginning, he was different, and Cia couldn’t stop himself from staring into those amber eyes, deep and rich like a fifth of his favorite whiskey and just as fiery, spiced like cinnamon and sweet like caramel. God, he could write sonnets about just his eyes if he were as linguistically inclined as Gio, but alas, his words jumbled around in his mind, trying and failing to put together a coherent sentence to describe just what those eyes made him feel. And when Bajo finally got comfortable around them, when he let loose, when he finally laughed, it was nearly enough to send Cia into a second grave. It was uproarious and without restraint, like a sudden crescendo in the middle of a lullaby, and if he were honest with himself, it was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear it again- he wanted to hear it every day, and he wanted to be the one to cause it. Indeed, Bajo was very different, and the others, well, the others knew it. 

“Won’t you ever tell him, mon amie?” Bee asked, lounging deeply in his arm chair by the fire as he puffed away at a spicy-smelling cigar. “Watching the two of you dance around each other all day is truly starting to get old.” 

“I haven’t a clue what yer talking about,” Cia retorted, broodingly sipping at his whiskey that, despite being his favorite, seemed utterly flavorless. He chose to focus instead on the storm sending heavy rains onto the roof of the estate, the windows lighting up every so often from bolts of lightning. “We don’t dance.” 

“But you want to,” Bee said slyly, a mischievous grin spreading around the cigar held between his teeth. “You want to dance with him, hold him close and feel him sway in your arms, kiss hi-”

“Enough, Scarabee,” Zhuk grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “Let’s not push the issue, da?” 

“Thank you!” Cia exclaimed with relief. “Honestly, I-”

“If Ciaróg wishes to ignore his rather obvious feelings for Escarabajo and spend the next century pining like a Shakespearean protagonist, who are we to deny him?”

The uproarious laughter engulfing the smoking room at his expense drowned out his exasperated groan as the other three could barely contain their glee. He quickly downed the rest of his whiskey and stood from his chair, bidding them all a fond farewell with a rather rude gesture before making his way out the door, slamming it behind him as the laughter only intensified. Goodness, as if this could possibly get any wo-

“Ah, mi amigo!” 

...Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. 

Bajo strode confidently down the hallway towards him, a well-worn book in his hand and his chest exposed so perfectly with his shirt half unbuttoned, for God’s sake, Ciaróg, keep it together. 

“Evenin’, mo chara,” he replied, his voice strained as they could still obviously hear the others’ laughter filtering in from the smoking room. Bajo raised one eyebrow questioningly, a smile still playing on his lips. 

“What’s got them in stitches?” he asked curiously, his eyes almost instinctively traveling up and down Cia’s body for less than a second, so quickly that Cia could almost deny that it had even happened...were they right? Were they really dancing around their feelings? 

“Oh, just a little too much to drink,” Cia explained away with a forced laugh, one that only piqued Bajo’s interest more. 

“Ah, and I suppose that’s what they’ll tell me if I go in and ask them, hmm?” he asked mischievously, his grin growing as he saw the fear so clearly blossoming in Cia’s eyes. Ah, so he was hiding something! What an interesting turn of events for such a typical evening. 

“Well, of course not!” Cia stammered, one hand still on the doorknob as if to keep Bajo away from it. “Since when does a drunkard ever tell ye that he’s drunk?”

“Hmm...I suppose that’s true,” Bajo admitted, and God, that sly little smile made Cia’s knees want to give out. “Are you alright, mi amigo? You seem...tense.” 

Of course, tense could only begin to cover it. Cia looked more nervous than Bajo had ever seen him, and frankly, it slightly worried him. What could they possibly have discussed in that room that made him this anxious about him finding out? Was everyone in the estate allowed to know except him? 

“Course I’m alright,” Cia said, finally pushing away from the door and regrettably closer to Bajo. God, he wanted to reach out and touch the skin exposed by his shirt, and he could feel his fingers twitching by his side, enabled by the spirits in his system to let go of inhibition, but he still managed to control himself. “Trust me, Escarabajo, you’d know if I was out o’ sorts.” 

God, he was trying so hard not to crumble as Bajo’s eyes turned soft, that molten honey stare practically piercing his soul as he took a step closer. Suddenly the toes of their shoes were nearly touching, their chests merely inches apart as Bajo placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Christ Almighty his touch was warm, inviting, intoxicating-

“Well, you know I’m here if you ever need someone, querido,” he murmured, his melodious voice echoing repeatedly in Cia’s mind and practically swallowing him up. Need? Of course he needed him. He needed him like the living needed air in their lungs, and he felt like he was sinking beneath the waves of his touch, his voice, his kiss-

They were kissing. He had no idea who leaned forward to bring their lips together, it could’ve been both of them for all he knew, but it didn’t matter, because his lips were soft and warm against his and he could feel his little breaths puffing out across his face. The hand on his shoulder had tensed, Bajo’s fingers clenching tightly at his shirt as they remained still, lips pressed together in a simple, beautiful kiss. 

Kiss.

Oh God. They were kissing. 

The minute his brain caught up to the present, he was pulling away, putting at least two feet between them as he backed up against the door, his back hitting the dark wood with a dull thud as he gasped for air he didn’t need. Bajo’s eyes slid open slowly, blinking with surprise as his fingers came up to gently touch his lower lip, as if trying to figure out if that had actually just happened. Their eyes met, Cia’s full of fear and Bajo’s full of...sadness. 

“Oh, Ciaróg…” he murmured, shoulders sagging as if weighed down by some unseen force. “I...I am so incredibly sorry. But I…I don’t...” 

That was it. He knew it. He knew his feelings were unrequited, he knew the other dons were wrong, and he knew that he just royally fucked up. Without another word, he took off down the hallway, refusing to look back even as Bajo repeatedly called out to him, his voice desperate and so achingly sad. It pained Cia to hear it, but he couldn’t give in. He raced back to his suite and shut the door behind him, immediately leaning back against it and sliding to the floor, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with his heavy breaths. He couldn’t believe he just did that, he couldn’t believe he just did that. How could he let himself lose control like that, just kissing Bajo like it was nothing, how stupid could he be? He could feel the tears coming and stinging his eyes, a rough hiccup crawling up from his throat as he clutched angrily at his hair. He was furious with himself for potentially ruining his friendship with Bajo, and God, what would that do to the rest of the group? They lived together, what were they meant to do? It was all too much, the thoughts swirling through his mind like an anxious maelstrom, only broken apart by the sharp rapping on the door behind him. 

“Mon amie, are you in there?” Bee asked softly, his voice muffled by the thick wood. Sniffling, Cia scooted away from the door and stood up, brushing himself off as he pulled the door open. Immediately, Bee was striding inside, his cane clicking against the hardwood floor. “Oh, Ciaróg…”

“Don’t,” he choked out, eyes trained exclusively on the floor. He couldn’t bear to look Bee, or any of them, in the eye, couldn’t bear to see their pity. “That...that’s what he said, too.” 

“Cia, I...I’m sorry,” he said, moving over to the foot of the bed and taking a seat, patting the space next to him. Cia sighed and reluctantly joined him. “We, I, pushed you too far. I hope you can forgive us, camarade.” 

He paused for a moment before nodding. Truly, it wasn’t their fault- he was the idiot who kissed his friend. He was the idiot who fucked up their friendship. Nothing the others said or did could have forced him to do that. 

“It’s over, Scarabee,” he mumbled, rubbing at the wetness leaking from his eyes. “I suspect Bajo won’t want to see me again, let alone talk to me. I’ve...I’ve ruined everything.” 

“Oh, come now,” Bee said, clapping a hand onto his shoulder. “He’s a reasonable man, isn’t he? So you kissed him. You’ve kissed me plenty of times!”

“Yes, but ye liked it!” he pointed out, running his fingers anxiously through his hair. “He made it very clear that he didn’t want that, that he doesn’t...feel that way about me. I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, Christ, what am I going to do?” 

“You,” Bee began, poking his finger hard into Cia’s chest, “are going to go talk to him. You’re going to sit down and have a conversation like two rational, grown-up demons, and you’re going to walk away from it better than you were before. Alright? Come now, up you get.” 

Bee wrapped his arms under Cia’s shoulders and heaved, pulling him up onto his feet despite his protests. Once he got him to his feet, he straightened out his clothes and brushed away his tears with a doting smile. 

“There now, much better,” he said happily, giving him a shove towards the door. “Now go. He retreated to his room not long after he told us what happened.” 

With a heavy sigh, Cia obeyed, leaving Bee behind in his room to make his way down the hall, going through multiple twists and turns before finally approaching Bajo’s door. But what if he didn’t want to talk to him? What if he was angry with him, or disgusted with him, so disgusted that he didn’t even want to see him? He was pulled from his anxious reverie, however, by the sound of muffled voices coming from inside the room. Did someone else seek him out the same way Bee did for him? He felt bad about it, but he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his ear up against the door to listen in.

“-nothing I can do.” 

“Of course there is! You’re more powerful than you let on, mi amigo, I’ve seen your hypnosis at work dozens of time. Don’t tell me you can’t do this for me!”

“Bajo, do you even know what you’re asking of me? To rid you of your memories of your feelings for Ciaróg-”

To...to do what? 

“-Would do more good for me than anything else. I...I can’t face him. Not after knowing what he feels like, I...I can’t keep it hidden anymore, Zhuk. And I can’t give in to it either. So what else can I do?”

“Bajo, you know of the nature of our relationships as well as I. Do you fear that we will judge you?” 

“No! No, I just...I can’t. I can’t. It’s wrong, I’m wrong, THIS is wrong!”

If he had a beating heart, it would be thrumming away in his chest. What was...what was he saying?

“And who told you that, Escarabajo?”

“You know damn well who,” Bajo growled, his voice so clearly laden with pain. “Because she told you, too. Didn’t she?” 

It was silent. Cia held himself perfectly still, just waiting for Zhuk’s answer. 

“...Yes. She did. But I learned a long time ago that Juno is a wretched old bitch whose opinions on anything are as cold and rotten as she is. You can’t let her continue to control you, or what you want!” 

“YES I CAN!” Bajo shouted. Cia gasped, and the room went quiet. “...Come in.”

Fuck. Knowing he’d been had, he sighed and opened the door, revealing himself to a startled Bajo and a semi-relieved Zhuk.

“Ciaróg,” Zhuk sighed, quickly walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “You...you heard all of that, yes? Perhaps you can be the one to talk some sense into him.” And with that, he was gone, closing the door behind him and leaving the two men uncomfortably looking away from one another. It was Cia who would finally speak, walking over to the fireplace to stand by the roaring flames, gazing into them thoughtfully. 

“You lied to me.”

“...What?” 

“You...you told me you didn’t,” Cia said, his voice already beginning to choke up again. “You lied to me.” 

“I...I’m sorry,” Bajo replied softly, shamefully. “I...I couldn’t tell you.” 

“Because of Juno,” Cia said flatly. He looked back over to Bajo where he sat at the edge of the bed, their eyes finally meeting. Bajo’s eyes widened a bit- his gaze was surprisingly cold. “I didn’t take ye for a coward, Escarabajo.” 

“How...how dare you!” Bajo growled, fueled with a white-hot anger as he stalked towards Cia. “You kiss me, and then you run away from me, and you’re calling me a coward?” 

“Aye, I am,” Cia spat, his eyes reflecting the roaring fire in the fireplace and in his belly. “You were beggin’ Zhuk to remove yer memories just to run away from how ye feel, and all because of that spiteful ol’ bitch. That makes ye a coward, and I know yer not one. I...I know yer brave, and fierce, and wonderful, so don’t you dare tell me that you’d run away from this, from me, just because of her-” 

Silence. His voice was cut off by Bajo’s lips pressing insistently against his, his hands fisting in the front of Cia’s shirt as he kissed him with all the pent-up longing in his heart. Cia stilled against him for a moment, but the second his brain caught up, he was kissing back with the ferocity of an animal released from its cage. They were a flurry of lips and teeth and hands scrabbling for purchase as they fought for dominance. Bajo pulled away, panting out of sheer habit as he stared into Cia’s eyes.

“Am I a coward now?” he asked, his voice still heavy with anger. Cia felt an icy coldness shoot through him as he realized what he’d said, how insensitive he’d been. 

“I...I shouldn’t have called ye that,” he replied, their lips still only an inch or two apart. “I know what growin’ up hearin’ that bloody hag spewin’ her filth was like.” 

“I don’t want to think about her,” he murmured, his hands flattening out across Cia’s back and holding him as close as he could. “I...I don’t want to think about anything…” 

This...this couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be here, holding Bajo in his arms, their lips so infuriatingly close...but somehow, miraculously, it was. He was here and he was real and he didn’t want to think, and far be it from Cia not to help him out. 

“...Then don’t.” 

And then he was on him again, kissing him with the passion he’d kept stored away in his heart for months, and before he knew it they were stumbling back to the bed, arms around each others and lips kissing any patch of skin they could find as they fell back onto the plush mattress, Bajo on his back with Cia hovering overtop of him. He cupped his gorgeous face in his hands, those fucking incredible amber eyes just staring up at him in awe as they paused for just a moment to take it all in. Their walls had crumbled, their inhibitions melted away, and their desperation was not unlike the storm raging outside, chaotic and thunderous, just demanding to be satisfied. With a rough sigh, Cia buried his face into Bajo’s neck, sucking patches of skin between his teeth and littering him with little bruises, reveling in the gorgeous little sounds he got him to make. The sight of each splotchy purple mark only egged him on further, and when he finally lifted his head, Bajo’s neck looked like he’d practically been mauled and it was perfection. He smiled brightly- he was so happy, so incredibly happy, and he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss, taken in by how perfectly their lips seemed to fit together. His hand traveled down the front of him, settling over his cock where it tented the front of his pants, and he groaned roughly against his lips as he began to palm at him. 

“Cia…” he moaned against his lips. He grinned, continuing to kiss him as he unzipped his pants and let his hand slip inside, now only separated from his cock by a thin pair of underwear. He felt him tense up a bit, so he slowed down, letting his hand drag smoothly over his cock as he kissed down his jaw once more. “C-Cia…” 

God, the sound of his name on his lips was glorious, all rough and quiet. It made him nibble reverently at his skin as he finally, finally slipped underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, ready to finally feel how his cock felt in his hand-

“Ciaróg!” he shouted, shoving roughly at his shoulders until he fell from the bed, sprawled out against the floor. Cia stared up at him, eyes widening as confusion turned to fear when he saw Bajo curl in on himself, his fingers tangled painfully in his hair. “I can’t, this is wrong, I...I can’t.” And then he was taking off, haphazardly buttoning up his pants as he fled the room, calling out for…

No. No.

Like a flash, Cia was after him, chasing him down the halls but never managing to catch up, calling after him desperately because no, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, not like this. Bajo finally turned into the smoking room and slammed the doors behind him, and when Cia finally reached them, they were locked. He pounded desperately against the wood, ignoring the pain blooming across his fists.

 “Bajo! BAJO! You open this fuckin’ door right now!” he shouted. 

“Zhuk, please, you have to do it, please!” 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, I can’t, I won’t-”

“Just try! Please, I can’t deal with this anymore, I...I love him too much, Zhuk. And it hurts...if you don’t want me to leave this estate, you’ll do this for me.” 

Cia felt frozen in abject terror. The only thing separating him from Bajo was a God-forsaken door that he couldn’t pound his way through, and the longer he went with that door shut, the more icy fear took hold in his stomach. He had to get in, he had to-

“Bajo! Bajo please, you don’t have to do this! We’ll work this out together, I’ll do anythin’ you need, be anythin’ you need. Don’t...don’t give up on me.”

He was whimpering pitifully, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d let go of his pride and beg on his knees if he had to. He just heard Bajo say he loved him, and now he expected him to be OK with losing him? He heard Bajo make his way over to the door and his breath hitched, a sudden burst of hope melting the terror that was threatening to freeze his heart. 

“Cia…” Please. Please. “...Mi amor, I’m so sorry.” 

“No...no. Don’t,” he choked out, a rough, haggard whisper that likely didn’t even penetrate through the door. The fear was back as he heard Bajo moving away, back to the center of the room to meet his fate, and he began pounding against the wood with his fists, desperate tears beginning to roll down his cheeks as he begged. “Bajo, please! PLEASE!” 

“Do it,” Bajo said solemnly. All Cia could hear was Zhuk beginning to murmur in Russian, a soothing phrase he’d heard so many times before, God, he couldn’t lose him, he wouldn’t lose him, please, no, no, no. 

“You...you fuckin’ coward!” he screamed, his voice breaking around desperate sobs. “You bloody prick! You selfish bastard! Let me in, let me in, don’t forget about me, please, please!” 

He went to pound at the door again when it suddenly opened, revealing a haggard looking Zhuk looking as apologetic as he could, with Bajo on his knees in the middle of the room, trembling as he stared solemnly at the floor. 

“He...is he…?” Cia couldn’t finish his question, his throat closing around his words as he nearly started sobbing again. 

“I...I couldn’t do it,” Zhuk replied, looking almost as pained as he looked over his broken comrade. “I tried, but...to remove his feelings for you would do irreversible damage to his mind. You...you’re too central, too important, for you to be removed cleanly. There’s no telling what erasing his feelings for you from his mind would do to him.” 

Despite the absolutely broken man he saw before him, Cia couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. He still had him, his Bajo, and he knew that they could get through this together if Bajo would just let him in. He moved cautiously towards him, and when Bajo didn’t even seem to acknowledge his presence, he knelt down carefully next to him.

“Bajo...mo grá...” he reached out to brush his hair away from his forehead and was met with a rough growl and Bajo slapping his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled. He raised up from the floor and grabbed a crystal ashtray from the side table, throwing it furiously towards the wall and watching it shatter into little shards. Before Cia could even blink, he was stalking out the door, pushing past Zhuk into the hallway. 

“Bajo, wait!” Zhuk called out, chasing after him with Cia not far behind. Before they could reach him, the front door to the estate was flung open, the blustery winds of the storm blowing the pouring rain through the doorway as Bajo stood in the entryway, illuminated briefly by a flash of lightning as he turned back to look them over, the look in his eyes almost apologetic behind the broken sadness before he darted off into the night. 

“Bajo!” Cia shouted, rushing to the doorway to try and catch him, but the night was so dark apart from the momentary flashes of lightning that if he was even still close to the estate, he would be completely shrouded with shadow. The further Bajo moved away from their home, the more his loss seemed to settle in Cia’s heart, his entire body seemingly going cold as he fell to his knees, sudden sobs wracking his body as he cried brokenly into Zhuk’s awaiting arms, with him having knelt down to meet him as he fell. He tried to let Zhuk’s warmth comfort him, but he simply couldn’t. Bajo was gone, off to who knows where, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

...Well...Almost nothing. 

As he cried, he reached up and yanked at the small iron pendant hanging around his neck, tossing it out the door as a signal. I’m unprotected. Come and find me.

Because Cia was willing to do anything, work with anyone, in order to get Bajo back. 

(I’m currently writing a follow up to this that’ll make things momentarily worse, and then better. Stay tuned)

[fullmetalscullyy]

day 20 - heartbeat - steps

the magic of christmas time - royai advent calender

24 days - 24 oneshots | with angst, fluff, and everything in between | both canon and au

a collection of christmas themed oneshots to celebrate royai | chapter prompts based on my favourite christmas songs

read on ao3

oh but my feelings are in vain

just like the feelings they won't go away

my love remains

in my heart we'll always stay

Roy knocked back the whisky in his glass with careless abandon. Not even the ruckus from the back room of his aunt’s bar swayed him to care.

It had been almost a year since her disappearance. In a puff of smoke, the love of his life had disappeared off the face of the earth on Christmas day with no note, no reason why, and no explanation for him. He’d woken up and waited for a call from her. And waited. And waited…

Roy had no idea where she’d gone, but the fact remained that she’d left him behind.

It still hurt.

The most excitement he had nowadays in his dull grey life without her, was a rather strange conversation with a man at work today, who’d been dragged away from him with no further explanation. Roy couldn’t bring himself to care. He went about his day without another thought for that stranger. Not much else interested him in his dull life now that she was gone. She’d been the light, hence the return to drab greys. Not much else sparked anything within it.

“Roy!” Chris called through to him.

“What?” he replied gruffly. The alcohol was already beginning to take action.

“Roy!” Her bark was more forceful now, snapping him out of his slow descent to a drunken stupor. He shoved himself up, pushing off the top of the bar, as he rounded it to the back room. The first room he entered was only for show – a typical kitchen you’d see in a bar – but then stepping into the hallway behind and the door to the right, the place was full of tactical gear and weapons. The rug had been pulled up to reveal the hidden underground tunnel Madame Christmas’ agents used.

“Get in here,” she called through. Her voice sounded strained and Roy’s curiosity got the better of him.

Stepping into the room he got the shock of his life.

There, on the floor, getting CPR delivered to her, was his ex.

The love of his life.

Riza Hawkeye.

Roy watched as Vanessa leaned over Riza, breathing air into her lungs. Her chest deflated as Venessa went back to pressing on her chest to keep her heart pumping, but it didn’t move by itself.

“What –?” he asked dumbly, too shocked to do anything. His knees shook, threatening to make him fall.

“Roy! Ambulance!”

He was in shock, but he was still a military man. His training kicked him into gear, and he raced for the phone, dialling the number, because if he didn’t, Riza could die.

He’d never been involved in the Madame’s network. He was an informant more than anything. With his high position in the military he could pass on information to his aunt, and vice versa. They worked well, both reaping the benefits from what they shared with one another.

Riza hadn’t been either, as far as he’d been aware, but the thought had crossed his mind when she disappeared without a trace. Chris said nothing on the matter, but she wouldn’t. The secrecy she offered her agents was their security. However, if Riza had been working for his aunt, then she’d lied to him. Withheld the truth.

If she was here, lying on the floor, half dead, then she was working for his aunt…

Half dead. Focus on that. Get her heart beating again and deal with it later.

The ambulance took five minutes. It felt like a lifetime to Roy. Then, she was whisked away to the hospital and Roy instinctively moved after them to follow, only to be stopped with a hand on his chest. Glancing down, he saw the manicured hand of his aunt, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she looked in the direction the ambulance had left, even after it disappeared from view.

“Roxanne.” His adoptive sister’s name was spoken quietly, but the woman nodded and armed herself discreetly before slipping out the door to follow Riza to the hospital.

“What –?” Roy began to ask, no, demand, and explanation about what the fuck was going on, but Chris stopped him.

“Inside.”

“Inside” was her meeting room. Although, it was more of a war room nowadays. A map of Amestris was strewn across one table with points marked out on it with blue pins. A map of Central was placed similarly on the other, red pins sticking out this time. They were the only two in there. The rest were outside – Roy could hear them – planning a strategy or a retaliation to whatever had happened to Riza tonight. They were all in on it.

He wasn’t.

That hurt more than Roy would have liked to admit.

The woman he loved had left him without a word and everyone knew about it in his family except from him.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone taking on a growl as he rounded on his aunt.

“Watch your tone, boy,” she snapped back, not giving him an inch. “She was on a mission for me.”

“This past year?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he growled, properly this time.

“It’s not my policy –”

“Fuck the policy,” he barked, slamming his hand down on the table he’d come to lean against. “She was my fiancé. I’m your nephew.”

“She asked me to remain silent on the issue, and of course, I had to agree.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“The world does not revolve around you, Roy. You can’t just demand that things change only when they affect you. You have no idea how many friends I’ve had to bury then lie to their families about their deaths, just to maintain the secrecy.” His aunt’s eyes burned with such ferocity that it made Roy pause. “Don’t for a second think I went ahead with this with no consideration for Riza or the people around her. I didn’t even want her to do it, but she persisted.”

Roy scowled and bowed his head, knowing he was beaten. His anger was directed at the wrong person. It was probably unwarranted too. She had just returned to him suddenly, having been clinically dead for ten minutes. Riza didn’t deserve for him to be ranting and raving at her right now.

Find out what happened, if you can. Take it from there.

“She’s going to Central City hospital,” Chris revealed gently. “I won’t stop you from going, but please, think before you act. That’s all I ask of you.”

Roy pushed off the table and left the room without another word.

*          *          *

The machine beeped loudly inside his skull, reminding him that Riza’s life still hung in balance. Her heart rate echoed loudly in the quiet room the only other sound was her breathing. Roy was torn, unsure what to do with himself.

He felt betrayed by her, but she was hurt. Extremely so. He couldn’t leave her. One side of him just wanted her to wake so he knew she was okay, the other half wanted her to wake so he could demand answers about what happened.

Running a hand over his face, Roy gripped the roots of his hair as if he could ring his feelings out of his body that way. He was a mess. He didn’t know what to feel. He was numb.

He just wanted to know why.

He wanted to know she was going to be okay.

Roy wanted to cover his ears and block out the sound of her heartbeat through the machine, because it was a constant reminder that she was currently suffering. However, at the same time, he wanted to cherish every sound, because it meant she was still alive.

Her heartbeat gave him hope.

It took two days for her to wake. The longest two days of Roy’s life. He never left her side. In his head, he would psych himself up to leave, but he never did. Roy couldn’t bring himself to. If he tore himself away, he’d no longer hear the beep that meant she was alive, and he couldn’t do that.

On that second day he’d grasped her hand lightly in his. Roy’s fingers curled around her cooler ones lightly. He let his thumb stroke over her knuckles and found himself feeling very tired.

He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care why she’d left. Roy no longer thought it mattered that she’d kept something like this from him. Riza was a good person, and one of the kindest souls he’d ever met. She’d obviously done this for a reason. It wouldn’t be for his benefit, but there was obviously something bigger than him going on, that she needed to do.

He huffed a laugh, a smile gracing his lips as he stared at their joined hands. Yep. That sounded like his Riza all right. Always putting others before herself to ensure their safety and peace of mind.

Riza’s fingers twitched in his. Roy watched them for a second, then his eyes flew up to meet her face. It was a grimace, her eyes squeezed shut as her breathing picked up slightly.

“Riza,” he called to her. Roy had moved from leaning back with one ankle resting on his other knee, and was now straining forward, his bottom almost out of his seat as he watched her painfully regain consciousness. “Riza, come back to me,” he whispered.

This time alone with her had given Roy some time to think. He still loved her. Whether that was the case for Riza or not, he didn’t know. However, he couldn’t hold those feelings at bay. Not now. Not after waiting for days to her awaken, and now it finally happening. Everything came rushing back and Roy let it wash over him alongside his relief. It was a blessing – the best Christmas present he could have ever asked for, was her return – but it may end up being a curse. She might want nothing to do with him. This mission may have been a convenient excuse to get away from him.

Roy didn’t care, because she was finally waking up.

His limbs shook as he rose from the chair, leaning over her as he witnessed her return to reality.

“Roy?” she asked. Her voice was so quiet, so scratchy. Her eyes opened blearily, vaguely focussing on him.

“Hey,” he whispered, feeling tears cloud his vision. She’d been dead. She hadn’t been breathing when she’d arrived at Chris’ house. And now, here she was. Alive and awake in front of him. Roy ran a hand from her hair down to her cheek.

“You…” Her eyes widened. Opening her mouth to speak brought on a cough, which made her face contort in pain. Despite the intensity of her betrayal, Roy felt his heart ache because she was suffering. He placed a hand on her back, holding her upper body up so it would take the strain off her broken ribs. “You’re alive,” she breathed, tears collecting in her eyes.

Roy blinked at her. “Of course, I am.”

“Good,” she replied, closing her eyes and relaxing back into her bed. “Good,” she mumbled.

“Riza, what do you mean?”

She shook her head, holding up two fingers, asking him to give her some time. Riza appeared to be mentally preparing herself for something, while readjusting to being awake again after two days out of it.

“There was a plot to kill you. I had to stop it.”

Roy blinked back at her. What? Silence had reigned as she collected herself, and it continued after she dropped that bomb on him too.

“What?”

Riza nodded, shifting painfully in place. “I left to try and stop it.”

“Wait… What?”

Riza sighed then grimaced, the action paining her broken ribs form the CPR. “There was a group of Drachman soldiers looking to infiltrate the military and assassinate those in the highest power to try and take down Amestris.”

That… Surely the military would have had some inkling of this? Some way of knowing, chatter, that this was on the cards and going to happen. Why did only Chris have access to this information?

Wait… Drachma…

The man that had been dragged away from him today was Drachman.

“They were trying to kill me?”

Riza nodded. “An assassination attempt. I think they got wind of our plan to stop it and attempted a rush job. Luckily my contacts managed to intervene.”

“I… A man got dragged away from me a few days. He was Drachman. Was that him?”

Riza nodded. “Most likely, yes.”

“Why…” Roy frowned. “What I don’t understand was why you had to disappear for almost a year to stop this.” Roy swallowed, his eyes falling to the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To keep you safe.” Her reply was simple, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s not your job,” he ground out. “It never will be, not at the expense of your own life.”

“I know that,” Riza nodded calmly. “But once one of Christmas’ agents, you always are. Old habits die hard, and I couldn’t let this go on right under my nose and not do anything about it.”

Roy hung his head. Riza had been one of Chris’ agents. He’d never known. His aunt had only told him yesterday when she’d visited Riza. He’d been left reeling. His fiancé of two years hadn’t told him she had worked for his aunt in the past. Just how far did this distrust go?

No… Not distrust. Chris had a strict policy with her agents. If they were caught, they’d never heard of her before. It was a part in their contract that lasted for as long as they wished to work with the Madame. However, afterwards, in order to protect her organisation, they were forbidden to speak about it with anyone. Roy knew this. His aunt was strict on her secrecy policy, and like she said, the world didn’t revolve around him. The same rules applied to him and Riza, because she worked with Chris. It wouldn’t change for her nephew. It would have hurt less if it did, but Roy had had more than enough time to think over the past few days. He’d come to an understanding about it all after a conversation with Chris.

“I did it because I love you, Roy,” Riza whispered, tentatively reaching out to grasp his hand. He didn’t react to her touch, because he was still reeling. How could he know what to believe now? “I still do,” she added, but didn’t meet his eyes. “I knew going into this I’d be sacrificing that trust with you.” Riza retracted her hand. “I knew that, but I still went ahead with it, because I was best suited to the job to protect you.” Riza cleared her throat and clasped both hands in her lap. “I’m the only one in the organisation that can speak Drachman fluently, so I had to rise to the occasion. It kept you safe,” she finished, her head lifting to meet his eyes. “And I don’t regret that one bit. Keeping you alive was top priority, even if it meant sacrificing what we had. That’s how much I love you.” Riza cleared her throat again, then grimaced as the action pained her ribs. “But I understand if you no longer want a part in it. I betrayed your trust by keeping this from you and disappearing on you for almost a year. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave.” She settled back in her bed and closed her eyes, but Roy caught the wetness underneath her eyelashes. Despite the show of emotion, her voice was strong. “You don’t need to stay. It’s okay. At the end of the day, you’re alive, and that’s all that matters. Don’t feel the need to stay if you don’t want to.”

He didn’t know what he wanted. He thought he had it all worked out…

Roy didn’t know what to do.

He still loved her. He never could stop. In his heart there would always be a special place for her, and that would never change.

But this… She’d saved his life. That was a fact. But… She’d left just like that, leaving him in the dark for a year, thinking she was dead, and not trusting him enough to tell him about it. Hell, he could have dealt with it himself.

Just what else was she hiding from him? Could he ever trust her again?

A nurse passed by the room pushing a cart, going about her business for the day. On it was a little radio, playing Christmas music. She hummed along as she passed by, and the sound floated down the corridor after her.

Roy had yet to decide if this was the best Christmas present he’d ever gotten, or the worst. He didn’t know.

[shiningamongdarkness]

Chapter 16. What's going on?

Shining among Darkness

By WingzemonX

Chapter 16 What's going on? 

As he hurried down the emergency stairs, Vazquez took out his phone and tried to contact the hospital security to close all the doors. However, nobody answered him. He hoped it was because the security people were already moving after the first shot, and not because they had run from their places to pretend nothing happened.

 He felt some fatigued by the quick descent. But with his adrenaline at a thousand per minute, the detective arrived on the ground floor. He pushed the stairs' doors and returned to be in the halls again. Upon arriving, the first thing he saw was people moving scared in the same direction, so he chose to go right in the opposite one. What was in the direction where he was going? He tried to make a quick memory of the distribution of the building, and the first thing that came to his mind was the emergency area. Then he took the radio in his belt again and spoke for it.

 "Here, Vazquez! The suspect goes to the entrance of the emergency area. If there are units available, intercept her out there."

 He thought heard a distant "roger!" an instant before putting the radio back on his belt, but he wasn't sure of it. He hoped that someone had really heard him, and if he couldn't reach that girl, at least someone else could block her way.

 Suddenly, just around a corner, the first thing he caught was the roar of another shot. His body reacted only wanting to back off, but in no way could he move fast enough. The bullet hit him directly on the left shoulder. He fell back, and then crawled quickly, protecting himself behind the wall. He checked himself, placing his hand against the wound that was bleeding heavily. There was no exit hole. With his right hand, he took his weapon firmly and stuck his back against the wall, not even showing a hair around the corner.

 "Reinforcements are coming!" He shouted at his lungs from his position. "You have nowhere to go, kid!"

 "Didn't they teach you not to tell lies?" He heard her exclaim in a playful tone that in fact, sounded like the voice of a kid.

 "Who you are? What is your name?"

 "I'm just an innocent girl who wants to play, obviously."

 This statement was followed by a mocking giggle.

 "If someone is forcing you to do this, I can help you. Tell me what you want; trust me."

 There was no response to his offer.

 He tried to peek even if it was a little to see. Immediately another shot was heard, and the bullet now brushed his forehead at the height of his right eyebrow, opening his flesh. The policeman fell backward, but extended his weapon to the front and began firing in her direction. He could not see her clearly, for the blood that had drained into his eye; he only noticed how her small figure was hiding behind a column, and his three shots hit it and the ceiling. He crawled again to protect himself, and with his right forearm, he tried to wipe his eyebrow and his eye. Whoever she was, had an extraordinary aim.

 Was it really a kid? And even if it were, was it helpful to question him at that time? Wasn't he the one who had just put another girl, maybe her age, practically under arrest in that room? It was as if the whole world had lost its mind, and everything had turned on its head. What the hell was going on in that place?

 The seconds of silence that followed used them to try to calm down a bit, and he supposed she was doing the same. He risked looking out again. He did not see it clearly, but a few meters behind the column, he could see a part of the wheelchair, the same one in which Lily Sullivan was.

 He thought for a moment that perhaps there was no need to go out and take a risk. The reinforcements were on their way, and they would surely stop her as soon as she tried to leave. He was also hurt and confused, and that was an awful combination. He could just stay there and waited... but he didn't. Two policemen, two exceptional policemen, had just died in less than twenty-four hours, practically under their noses. And both, apparently, in the hands of those two girls. He didn't know what was happening; he didn't know who those two brats were. But his whole body demanded that he must stop them, and he won't let them put even half a foot out of that place.

 Inspired by that idea, he managed to stand up despite the pain he felt in his shoulder and left his hiding place running straight to where the stranger was hiding. He shot three times in the kid's direction, not intending to hit, but instead of frightening or alerting her, forcing her to stay behind that column while he approaches. But apparently, he underestimated her, because the stranger didn't stay hidden there. Instead, as he approached the right side of the column, the little figure of the killer came out on the left side, doing a twirl on the floor. Halfway through its turn, the girl shooting him directly in his right leg, a few centimeters above his ankle.

 Vazquez groaned in pain, staggered, and fell to the ground. He tried to straighten himself, but as soon as he began to rise, he was greeted by a direct kick in the face by the sole of his attacker's foot, which made him fall back to the ground. His gun escaped from his fingers, and she quickly pushed it away from him with one foot. Then she stepped away from him a few steps, backing away. How it was possible, Vazquez turned around and moved as far as he could on the floor. She aimed it by holding her gun with both hands, and only until then could the cop saw her more clearly.

 She was a thin girl of medium height, no more than ten years old. She had a white face, decorated with several freckles, and green-gray eyes with a look too cold and absent. Of all his being, those eyes were perhaps the only ones that didn't fit in with the rest. Vazquez could not conceive of the idea that a child of that age could have those eyes, even with blissful psychopathy. Those were the eyes of someone who had seen and done so many things. Someone who not care anymore about life or death, hers, or others.

 There was also the issue about her way of shooting and her movements, especially that last one she had done when shooting him in the leg. These would only involve some kind of training, maybe even military... But how was that possible?

 Vazquez was breathing agitatedly, while he carefully admired the weapon in front of him, and the gentle face of the person holding it.

 "The other officers are already on their way," he tried to tell her, resisting the waves of pain that ran through his body from his recent injuries. "I know you must be scared and confused, but don't commit a madness. You already killed a policeman, if you kill another, there will be no way you can get out of this. They will open fire as soon as they see you, and it doesn't have to end like this. I don't know why you are doing this, or who is forcing you. But I can help you, let me help you..."

 The girl was silent for a long time, without lowering the weapon and without moving her penetrating eyes from him. She tilted her head slightly to the left, in an almost innocent gesture. And then, her lips suddenly drew a long grimace that perhaps tried to resemble some kind of smile, but it wasn't even close to anything Vazquez had seen before.

 As he had said to Nancy before, he had previously seen two serial killers up close. But none of them cased him so fear, or transmitted such threat and inhumanity as that girl-shaped thing that stood before him at that time...

 "I don't need more daddies who want to help me," she muttered suddenly as if she were reciting some kind of joke that only she was able to understand. "Hüvasti... isa..."

 Her fingers tensed around the trigger, and Vazquez knew immediately that she was about to shoot.

 "No! Wait…!" He shouted loudly, raising his hand to the front, in an unconscious act of supplication. The noise of the shot, however, deafened him at that moment.

 His breathing was cut, and he sensed that even his heartbeat had done so at the same time. Everything around him turned gray, and he stood still and immovable. But everything went pretty fast so that his mind could hardly process that time even existed. By the time he was able to react from shock and be aware of what was real and what was only a reflection of his own mind wandering in memories and regrets, the first thing he could see with total clarity, almost as if it shined with light own, was the bullet. Copper color and oval shape, floating right in the space that separated them both, maybe half a meter from his face.

 It did not move, did not advance, and did not emit any sound. It was only there, floating as if it were a living being. Vazquez was amazed for a few moments by such a curious scene before he could understand that, in fact... it made no sense. That couldn't be the bullet that was going towards him.

 He touched his face and turned his gaze to his torso, looking for any sign of injury, blood, pain, but out of the wounds he already had, there was no new one. He was totally unharmed. The idea that this was some kind of strange pre-death experience was one of the many things that crossed his mind. But then, he looked up beyond the floating bullet, and saw the face of his attacker: she was totally full of confusion, even perhaps more than his; much more.

 The presence of a third person became notable for both at that time, and practically at the same time, they turned in the direction in which they came. That brown-haired woman was approaching at a careful pace, with her gaze fixed on that floating-point of leads. Her right hand was extended towards her with its fingers tensed. Vazquez recognized her. Even in all his confusion and jumble of ideas that made him scratch in madness, he had the lucidity of identifying that woman, the same who was a few minutes ago with Wayne and the other guy. The supposed psychiatrist with the last name Honey.

 The woman suddenly took a deep breath and relaxed her hand and her gaze a little. The bullet, which had remained so peaceful in its place, descended on its own to the ground, like a harmless hail. It clinked in the linoleum, rolled a few inches, and then remained calm in front of Vazquez's feet.

 "But how…?" It was the only thing he managed to pronounce, while his eyes turned consecutively between the bullet and the hard, firm face of that woman. She, however, did not pay primary attention to him and instead turned her gaze fully to the girl with the gun, who noticed it and took an unconscious step back.

 "Give me the gun," Matilda said in a tone of command and extended her hand toward her. Still, instead of obeying, the girl began shooting to her consecutively, without waiting as soon as the recoil allowed.

 The attacker shot four times in total. Matilda reacted in amazement and stepped back a few steps while raising her hands quickly to the front. Each of those bullets stopped in the air, each a little further than the previous one. The first one was millimeters across the palm of her hand. Vazquez and Esther alike watched this act almost speechless. However, the last one did not stay longer. After giving the final shot, she ran to where she had left Lily's chair and began to push it down the hall to where she was going at the beginning.

 Matilda saw her sidelong, but she needed too much concentration to stop those four bullets, a concentration that was equally difficult to break. She inhaled sharply and exhaled just after. She lowered her hands suddenly, dropping them to her sides, and the four bullets collapsed to the ground along with the first. Matilda took a deep breath through his nose and then began to walk fast behind the strange girl.

 "Stop! Wait!" Vazquez yelled, making her stop abruptly and turn to him. Matilda then noticed the wounds he had on his shoulder, leg, and forehead.

 "Stay here," she said in a rather calm tone. "Someone will come to help you in a second."

 Without saying more, she turned again and ran in pursuit, before Vazquez could say anything else. And even if he could... what would he have said? If before he felt that his whole world had turned on his head... now he had no idea how to describe that.

— — — —

 Matilda hurried down the hall, trying to reach the girl. Her heels stopped her, and in a couple of times, her ankles bent. In the end, she chose to take them off entirely, no matter if she had to leave them lying on the ground and continued only with her tights covering her feet. She felt much freer at that moment, and much faster.

 Since she saw that kid shooting as if it were a normal thing, Matilda kept wondering who she was and what she was doing there. Was it Lily Sullivan? It was unlikely; it was safer to assume that Lily was the one she was carrying in the chair, unconscious and dressed in a hospital gown. Who was she then? And why was she looking for Lily? The only theory that came to mind was that group that Eleven had been tracking for a long time, and had never even found a solid track of them. She didn't even know if it was a group as such, although it was most likely. But whatever they were, it was someone who was looking for children with the Shining, kidnap them and disappear them. And according to the little ones that were able to find their bodies, they also torture them in horrible ways. Why? Eleven had no idea, but she was sure of something: to find others with the Shining, the only way was also to possess it.

 But how could someone who shone do something so horrendous? Despite some things she had seen, including what she felt when touched Lily's photograph last night, Matilda could not conceive that there was a group of resplendent people committing such atrocious acts together. But Eleven seemed quite sure of its existence.

 However, a couple of years ago, Eleven herself told her that she had lost all possible traces of those people. Almost as if they had disappeared from the face of the earth. And although, of course, there were still cases of missing children in the country, practically every day. And of course, many of them should be children like them. But none of those cases gave her the feeling of being directly related to that group. Eleven even considered that they had separated, or also moved to another country.

 But what if it was that? What if that girl was somehow part of that group and came to take Lily Sullivan as they realized the high power she possesses? It was a possibility, but it was somewhat unusual. That group must be smart and careful enough to move around and do that kind of thing without even Eleven noticing them. But that act of escape seemed all but smart and careful; it appeared in fact, entirely improvised and desperate.

 It didn't matter who she was, and it didn't matter if Lily Sullivan had been behind all those deaths, including Doug's. Matilda couldn't let anybody take her that way. She was there to help any child who needed her, whoever she was.

— — — —

 For Esther, there was no room for subtleties; that had been left behind since the second shot. Now, all she wanted was to get out of there, doing whatever was necessary. She went through the folding doors that led to the waiting room of the emergency area, and without the slightest modesty, began firing at the ceiling insistently.

 "I said all of you get out of here! Now!" She shouted, furiously accompanying the strident shots with her voice.

 Quickly everyone who was there: sick, family, and medical team alike began to hurry without much thought. A security guard approached her by the side with the apparent attempt to ram her. She, however, quickly turned to him and gave him the last shot of that load, directly in the chest. The guard fell to the ground spitting blood from his mouth and twisting. This paralyzed the remaining ones for a few moments, and that made her even more enraged.

 "I said all of you get out of here! Now!" She shouted at them with all her might, sounding much more like an angry adult woman than a girl.

 Two nurses stealthily approached the fallen guard and dragged him as they could out of there, to an office. Esther did not stop them since she also did not want to make it clear that at that time, the bullets had run out, and someone tried to become a hero. Once the area was seemingly clear, she placed Lily's wheelchair in the center of the room. She took a second to remove the empty magazine from the weapon and take out a new one from her blue star-shaped waist bag.

 "What damn circus have you put me in?" She murmured, pretending she was talking to the unconscious Lily, although she was actually talking to herself. "I hope you are worth it."

 Lily's head hung to the side without any resistance. Her body looked totally appeased and scattered across the chair. On the side of her face, where Esther had hit her, a bruise had formed. The makeshift bandage she had put on had almost entirely dyed red. Still, it was considerably less than the blood she would have lost if her captor had not applied it.

 Esther pushed the magazine into place with a single push, and then pulled the top of the weapon back to load the first bullet into the chamber. She felt safe again. She looked toward the entrance door and noticed an ambulance parked right in front with the doors open. Paramedics may have been among those who fled after their shots. And best of all, there was still no trace of the police, despite what that guy had said. Or he had lied to her, or maybe it was her lucky day after all.

 She retook the chair and began to move swiftly towards the door. However, she was halfway when she stopped suddenly. But not because she wanted it or given that order to her legs. She simply stopped, unable to move in the slightest, with her arms tight at her sides as if some type of invisible rope imprisoned her. Before she could process all this, her feet began to slide back, as if they were moving on ice. Her entire body receded without her being able to resist. And once she traveled perhaps three meters in that way, she was turned entirely on its own axis by the same invisible force. And then she was straight ahead directly the cause of it all.

 That brunette woman from a few moments ago was now standing in front of the same door through which she had entered; the only difference was that now she didn't bring her shoes. Her right hand was raised towards Esther, and she was staring at her. Esther tried to move, at least raising the hand that held her weapon, but couldn't. She was totally imprisoned.

 "Impressive," Esther murmured between angry and sarcastic. "Now pull a rabbit out of your hat to me, will you?"

 Matilda approached her cautiously without taking her eyes off her or lowering her hand. That girl looked pretty calm, considering her situation. Matilda looked at her more closely, especially her face and eyes. Everything about her caused an extremely uncomfortable sensation, which she had never felt with a child, not even with the most damaged she had dealt with.

 "Who are you…?" Matilda asked hard, though somewhat doubtfully. The freckles girl smiled.

 "I'm just a messenger," she replied in a mocking tone.

 "Whose messenger?" Matilda asked next, but the girl just stared at her without saying a word. "Speak!"

 "And if I don't do that, what? What will you do?"

 Was she challenging her? Anyway, she couldn't let her guard down. Up to that point, she had only used her gun and nothing else. However, that did not completely eliminate the possibility that she would also shine. An ace could be kept under her sleeve as soon as she had the chance to use it.

 "Why did you come here? What do you want with Lily Sullivan?"

 Esther remained unanswered.

 Matilda took a deep breath and tried to take a calmer posture.

 "Listen, you don't have to be afraid. The least I want is to hurt you. But you have done too many bad things for which you will have to answer. And as soon as the police arrive, I won't be able to help you. Tell me what you do here and who sent you, and I'll see how to support you, I promise. But you have to trust me and tell me everything."

 "Are all average adults equally as stupid?" Esther snapped wryly in her voice. "Why do you all still believe that I need your help in some way? Fuck yourself, whore... Shove your help up your ass."

 Matilda's face filled with colors when she heard her speak that way. She could not bear to listen to adults talk like that, much fewer children, although she had had to listen to several say even worse things in their therapies. But there was something really wrong with this girl, something she didn't know what it was, but it didn't seem natural. Who was she really?

 Suddenly over her prisoner's shoulders and head, Matilda spotted three dark figures making their way through the open doors of the entrance. She had to focus her attention to be able to clearly identify what they were: three huge dogs, with black fur, red eyes, and sharp fangs that showed between growls and grunts. The three looked in her direction with their front legs tense and firm on the ground, as if they were ready to jump at any moment. And, indeed, they did, long before the psychiatrist could ask herself even what they were doing there.

 The three began to run at once, turning Lily and Esther around and going straight against Matilda. She did not know how to react to such a strange scene. She backed away, forgetting Esther for a moment, enough to free her, and then the girl fell on the floor when she no longer held her with her telekinesis. She hesitated at the beginning of using it now with her new attackers, as they were only harmless dogs... although rather harmless, they seemed to have nothing.

 One jumped on her side, and quickly pushed it with her mind before it could touch her, blowing up in the air against the waiting chairs. Another managed to close its jaws around her right ankle, starting to pull it. Matilda let out a groan of pain but immediately pushed the animal like the other, making it roll across the floor several meters away from her. A third jumped in front, but she reacted by doing the same, but by that time, the first one had already stood up and was heading towards again.

 Esther looked all totally confused from the ground. Where had those dogs come from? She had no idea, but she wouldn't miss the opportunity they were giving her, she rose quickly, took Lily's chair, and ran to the door. Matilda looked sideways at her.

 "No!"

 She did not want to overreach with those innocent animals, but they did not leave her another way. Matilda inhaled sharply, focused her concentration on the three animals at the same time, and the three were paralyzed in their places. Then their bodies hit the ground, and the three let out a little shriek of pain. They then crawled on the ground, as if pushed by the wind, to end up thrown with intensity against the entrance door of the room, passing it and falling away in the hallway outside.

 Once freer, Matilda looked for the girl and saw her already at the exit. She was willing to do the same as she did to the dogs if necessary. But before she could even focus, something stopped her. At first, it was like a cold that grew suddenly in her chest and then went up to accumulate in her throat. Afterward, she felt her throat close, and it made it impossible for her to breathe, even to do the smallest inhalation of air. She began to choke. She instinctively brought her hands to her neck, trying to snatch the invisible fingers that imprisoned her but only ended up scratching her own skin.

 The desperation for lack of air did not let her think clearly. She had never felt anything so horrible run through her body. It was like what she had felt when she touched Lily's photograph on the computer, but ten times more intense, or more. What was it? What was causing it? Was it done by that girl? She noticed then that all the lights in the room began to clink irregularly, like Christmas lights...

 Her body suddenly rose through the air as if she had been hit by a car, and crashed the wall on the side of the door. She descended with her back against it, sitting on the floor. She felt like her whole body was pressed against the wall, causing her bone pain as if something weighty was crushing her little by little. Her gaze was wild and blurry, and she felt more and more suffocated. Every weak and pitiful scream she gave was totally useless.

 Between all her despair and confusion, between a jingle of lights and another, she seemed to see something. It was there when the light shone, and disappeared the next instant. It had first one form, then another, and then it returned to the first. It was something, or rather someone, standing right in front, with its arm extended toward her. Its hand was the one that imprisoned her neck. That hand that was unable to get rid of as much as she tried. And then, the lights went out completely, but only then did she see it with complete clarity.

 Among the shadows, Matilda distinguished his white and young face, his sky blue eyes, and his straight black hair, perfectly combed to the side. It was a boy, who she did not recognize, but was there before her, imprisoning her while staring with his eyes lacking any trace of humanity in them, and a crooked smile that only conveyed a sickly pleasure.

 She heard suddenly how that strange figure was muttering in a graceful and strangely polite and soft tone. But they were not as such words, but rather thoughts that entered like needles in her head.

 (I don't know who you are, miss. But what you did a few moments ago was impressive. It's a shame to have to do this, but there is not another way, is it?)

 Matilda felt how those invisible fingers tightened even more, making it impossible even to moan or scream in pain. The forces began to leave her body, and her eyes began to close, being that cruel face that rejoiced in her agony the last thing she would see...

 "NO!!"

 That scream reverberated in her head with an intense echo, which then spread in all directions. The lights went on to the maximum, and then several of the fluorescent bulbs burst into pieces. Matilda's eyes opened again, enough to see how the image of that stranger was suddenly pulling away from her as if someone had pushed him, then disappeared into the shadows.

 Matilda immediately filled her lungs with a deep inhalation, and shortly after that collapsed on her right side, beginning to cough hard, and even spitting some blood on the floor.

 The room doors opened shortly after. Matilda looked up as she could from the floor. Although in the beginning, she expected to find herself face to face with one of the dogs, instead she distinguished Cody, looking everywhere, and then getting more than alarmed when he saw her lying there.

 "Matilda! What happened?!" He exclaimed by mere reflex, crouching beside her. He helped her to sit while still coughing a little. Her breathing was slowly calming down, but she still lacked.

 She weak pointed at the exit door.

 "The girl... stop her..." Matilda groaned in a raspy voice.

 Cody looked where She pointed and understood immediately. He ran to the exit, and when he was at the door, he watched as the ambulance drove off the access ramp with its sirens on. He advanced a little further along the slope, but it would be impossible to reach it on foot; it was speeding, reeling on itself until joining the avenue. He thought quickly of something to stop it, something he could create with his thoughts, but he was not fast enough. For in a blink, the vehicle escaped his range of vision.

 When he was going to keep moving behind it, he heard the police patrols behind him. When he turned around, he could see at least five patrols parking in front of the emergency entrance. An officer immediately got out of his vehicle and pointed his gun at him, telling him not to move. Frustrated and upset, Cody could only raise his hands in cooperation.

 Inside, Matilda heard the sirens and all the hustle and bustle that had begun to form. Without the need for someone to tell her, she already knew: that girl had escaped. But that was not her main thought at the time. What had been so horrible that it had just happened to her? Who was that person she had seen? And... What had saved her...?

 And suddenly, a fleeting thought crossed her mind, inspired mostly by a sensation that had remained in the air since that happened, but which she was not fully aware of until then. She looked around slowly. Outside there were steps, voices, sirens, but in there, everything was silent. It was at that moment that it became quite clear to her what had happened.

 "Eleven?" She exclaimed slowly, waiting for some kind of response, but it wasn't.

— — — —

 Damien had been suddenly pulled into a completely dark space, although before that time, he had not correctly conceived what "total darkness" really meant. Everything around him was absolute blackness as far as he could see. Also, there was silence, a deep, gloomy silence, which even made the ears scream as they were not accustomed to that level of absence of sound. But of course, all those supposedly physical manifestations were more of a trick than the brain did to itself because he wasn't really there. He was not standing in that dark space, just as he had not been a second in that hospital. However, that did not mean that his situation deserved less care.

 Who had been able to push his projection in such a strong and sudden way, and make him fall into that space? The answer to that question was much more intriguing than how to get out of that site. And he knew very well whoever they were, had to be there with him. In fact, he could feel them, or feel her, standing behind his back, turning in the opposite direction, so that no one was able to see the other, not even a hair. Only darkness in front of them.

 The young man remained calm in his position, and an intentionally clear thought was formulated and materialized.

 (Is that you, Abra?)

 He questioned solemnly, but the voice that answered him was far from being what he expected.

 (I don't know any Abra)

 Who answered him, had a serious woman's voice, with enough authority and threat in her tone, and sound in an echo that was appeasing in the distance. So his captor was a woman, and her voice didn't sound like she was young; that totally ruled out that it was who he believed.

 (Who are you?), the woman questioned.

 (I could ask you the same question. How can you do it?)

 (How can you do it?)

 (Don't play with me, ma'am... You don't know who you're messing with)

 (No, boy. You are the one who doesn't know)

 He felt like all the space around them began to spin, even though his feet were fixed on the ground. There was no clear way to describe it. It was as if they were back to back, and that person tried to turn to face him face to face. Damien had never played this kind of game with another person; until a few months ago, he didn't know there was anyone else who could do it. And he could feel without a problem that this woman had enough experience dealing with such situations, and she knew exactly how to maintain control in all of them. Apparently, her previous threat was not fueled by empty words.

 However, even if it was a new game for him, he had an innate talent to learn fast. And whether it was in a physical or a mental room, he was always the one in control. For every move she made to turn to see him, he made his own to stay in the same position and avoid it. In turn, he tried to do the same, make everything turn around, but in the opposite direction, so he could see the face and place where his opponent was facing.

 It was like a dance, but not a fun one at all. So many twists and turns, sooner or later, one would end up getting dizzy, but Damien was sure it wouldn't be him.

 (You're good, but I'm better...)

 Suddenly, the ground beneath them turned from black to blood red, and the feet of their captor sank into it like sand. He quickly turned before she could react, and as soon as he did, the black stage vanished from his eyes. Instead, he could see an unfamiliar scenario: it looked like a study, with two glass doors that overlooked a garden and through which intense sunbeams entered that illuminated the entire place. Beyond the doors, there was a large space of grass, mostly green, and beyond trees that were lost in a small forest. The sky also looked sunny and bright. The weather, plus the position of the sun, made him think immediately that he was not in Portland, possibly not even in Oregon. He pointed to something closer to the east coast.

 (Nice place. Is it your home or your office...?)

 He started trying to turn his eyes around. In front of him, there was a wooden coffee table, with several papers on it.

 (Let's see if we can find out who you really are...)

 He tried to get close to the documents, trying to spot anything. He could only see a few incomprehensible words before the whole space was shaken and stained red.

 (You will not do it!)

 The woman's voice rang out loudly, drilling her head.

 He was in the dark space again, or at least a part. His vision took turns between the darkness and the image of that study repeatedly, like a flickering light. He could feel his opponent making an effort to try to push him away. He didn't allow it, but, surprisingly, it seemed like she was doing it...

 (Get away from me... and from my... friends!)

 The last words were like an intense explosion in his head. Then, he felt as if his body was flying through the air, traveling light years of stars and constellations, unable to put any brake until it slammed into the ground like a calcining meteorite.

— — — —

 Damien's eyes flew open, and he had to hold onto the back of his couch so he wouldn't collapse to the floor. His vision cleared after a few seconds. It was evident that he was not lost in space or anything like that but in the pent-house study. He inhaled slowly through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, trying to make his body and mind relax as much as possible.

 That had been amazing. That lady, whoever she was, had pulled him to that space where she was in control. She had subjected him to then push him away with an intensity such as if a horse had kicked him in the face. He wasn't furious, but... fascinated. He couldn't believe that someone could really do that to him. And it wasn't just her; the other woman, that was even able to stop the bullets and stop and subdue Esther. Where had all these people been? Why only until now did they appear before him?

 He let out a loud laugh, and turned his head back, leaning it against the back and looking up at the ceiling, sketching a long smile.

 "Well, well. This is really getting fun..."

 Anyway, that had been a victory for him wherever he saw it. Esther had escaped with the girl, and he had discovered two fascinating people. How many more would he know if he continued on that path?

— — — —

 Far from there, in Hawkins, Indiana, Eleven had not had the same balance or strength as Damien to stay in her seat. She did end up falling on her carpet of dull colors and throwing some of the papers she had on the table. She made no immediate attempt to get up; she just sat with her hands against the carpet, and his legs tangled up in a position where she didn't even wonder how they got that way. Her curly hair fell on her face. She was breathing heavily and felt that her heart was beating very intensely, as was her head. She felt exhausted... very, very exhausted...

 The study door swung open, and that set her on an alarm, forcing her to raise her face. Her powers seemed to react by mere reflection to an imminent danger. The coffee table next to her slid down the floor alone, until it hit the wall, to the side of the door that had just opened.

 There was this husband, Mike Wheeler. He was a tall, thin man in his mid-forties, with slightly curly dark brown hair, round glasses, and a discreet mustache on his upper lip. He had entered alarmed to his wife's study upon hearing her scream those last words that surely nor had she been aware that she had spoken in her own voice. The sound of the table sliding on the floor and crashing into the wall, made him jump to the side, making him even more nervous than he already was.

 Upon recognizing her husband, Eleven calmed down a bit, but not all the strange sensations that ran through her body were calmed down.

 "Jane!" Mike snapped and quickly circled the table and sofa to go where she was. "Jane, are you alright?"

 He took her in his arms and helped her to stand up slowly and put herself back on the couch. Eleven dropped on it and leaned her head back. She brought her hand to her forehead and carved it with her fingers in an attempt to calm the pain.

 "Yes, I'm fine..." she murmured with some weakness, although she felt she was more stable.

 "Jane... your nose," she heard Mike said in an almost trembling voice.

 Eleven looked up at him and noticed that he was staring at her with fear, behind his glasses. She brought her fingers to her nose and then placed them in front of her face. The fingertips were stained with blood. She was bleeding from her nose...

 Mike hurried to her desk, which was at one end of the study, and took two handkerchiefs from the box she had there. He returned to the chair, and she accepted these without hesitation, wiping with them the blood, which fortunately did not seem to be much.

 "That hadn't happened to you for years," Mike pointed out as he sat next to her.

 And indeed it was. During Eleven's childhood and puberty, nosebleeds were quite frequent in her, especially when she used her abilities, and even more when she abused them. Over time, however, they were less in how much their powers were further strengthened, and she learned to know and better measure their limits. And at one point, she had practically forgotten them.

 What did it mean that after so long it happened again? Nothing good, she was sure of that. It implied that this guy had taken her to the limit of her ability to defend herself from him. And although she had managed to get him away at that time, she had a feeling that he had not fully demonstrated everything he was capable of. And had not even managed to discover his identity.

 "What happened?" Mike asked, carefully taking his wife's hand that did not hold the handkerchief against her nose.

 Eleven shook his head slowly.

 "There's no time, give me my phone, please," she said, pointing her finger at the table she had pushed away from her without realizing it. Mike went to it and returned a second later with Eleven's Smartphone in one hand. She immediately took it and began to dial one of her recent contacts.

 She tilted her body slightly forward while holding her head. It didn't hurt so much anymore, but she still felt tired and somewhat dizzy. Mike, meanwhile, ran his hand up and down her back comfortingly. It didn't help her much to relieve her, but it made her feel at least more confident that she was indeed safe at home, a thought that still didn't seem to be fully reflected in her head.

 The call was slow to be answered, but it was at the end.

 "Hello, Eleven," Detective Cole Sears' playful voice replied. In the background, there was some hustle, footsteps, and sounds. "I was wondering when you would make your first call..."

 "Cole, I don't have much time," Mrs. Wheeler hurried to intervene. "Have you already landed in Portland?"

 "That's right, I just picked up my suitcase, in fact. I go to the module to rent transport to Salem..."

 "No," her former mentor interrupted quickly, "I need you to go somewhere else first. Matilda needs you there."

 Even without seeing him, Jane could feel that Cole had stopped suddenly, confused, and expectant. She told him as briefly as possible about the situation and the place where Matilda and Cody were at the time. She asked him to go there as soon as possible and support them in everything. As was his own, he did not refuse at all.

 After hanging up, Jane held the phone in her hands, staring straight ahead, past the glass doors, the grass, and the trees in the forest, and the blue sky. Everything that stranger had managed to see by getting into her head, going through all the different protections she had placed to avoid it. She had not felt so helpless and vulnerable in years, maybe since she was a girl.

 "Jane, what's going on?" Her husband questioned her, quite unable to hide her concern. She turned to see him for a moment and then turned back outside.

 "I don't know... I swear I don't know..."

END OF CHAPTER 16

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

—Mike Wheeler is based on the respective character of the Netflix series, Stranger Things of 2016. In the original series, in its first season in 1983, he is only 12 years old. By this time, however, it will be around 46. By the time this chapter was written, it has only been taken until the Second Season of the series. So, for the moment, only the First and Second Season will be taken into account as a reference for this story from now on. As previously mentioned, in this story, it is speculated that Eleven and Mike got married at some point in their adult life, and this will remain so, even if in the next seasons of that series, something happened that contradicts this idea.

SPECIAL AUTHOR'S WORDS:

Hi everyone, I'm WingzemonX, and this is a special greeting to you, who read this story in its English version. These last two chapters that I published are of my favorites, for the interaction and encounters of the different characters and the action. If you have read this story up to this point, you had already an idea of its style, its tone, and where it wants to go. What do you think? Has it captivated your interest?

 But the real intention of this special note is because recently in the Spanish version, I just published Chapter 50, and that makes me very, very excited and happy. I had never been able to write so many chapters of the same story, fanfic or original. And even later to reach so much, it keeps provoking inspiration and new ideas in me, as well as emotion to continue writing.

 It has been a story that has really been happening on its own and growing more and more without me proposing it, giving me many great moments. I know that, despite everything, it is still fanfiction. These are not my characters or concepts. They all emerged from the wonderful imagination of several writers and directors. But I have also put a large part of my effort and my heart to each word, fitting their worlds and stories so different into one, thus creating a tribute to these films, series, and books, made only by the love to them and their creators.

 I also know that it is a complicated story to read because of the different works involved, and it is not the kind of characters or stories that one expects to see in a fanfic. For this reason, its readers in these two and a half years, have been relatively few (although lately, they have been a little on the increase). That has sometimes come to put me off and rethink me if I should continue. Luckily, inspiration has always been more than discouragement. In addition to that, although they are few, there are very nice and great people who have followed the story almost from the beginning, leaving me their comments and votes, giving me advice and support.

 And these include you, who gave this poorly translated and weird story a chance, and follow it even though I know you have to bleed your eyes with the mistakes I make. However, you still read, write your comments, and give me confidence.

 I must thank Boris Yeltsin, Lucius Walker, 12345, rosabell14, and especially Shian1998, which I do not know how he does it, but he is always pending, and he comments each new chapter, leaving his impressions of all, from the beginning to the end, and I am always glad to read these. Also, thanks to those who don't leave comments, but give me their votes or kudos on different platforms. Or even those who may read each chapter on time without fail, but prefer to remain anonymous. You are all part of what has inspired me to continue and believe in the potential of this story and not leave it. And I hope, over time, I can improve in translation and make it easier and more enjoyable to read.

 And finally, I can only confess that although in Spanish, I already have 50 chapters written, this is not even close to finishing. There is still much to tell about this special and unusual crossover.

[thebifrostgiant]

If You Know Where to Look - Part 11

Summary: in which Loki makes a few audacious remarks and gives you a “cute” nickname. You come to a few realizations and give Loki some information

Part 1 / Previous

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 4,690

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Loki/Reader

*

Chapter 11: Half a Loaf

Loki’s thumb traces the blunt corners and smooth facets of the emeralds overspreading the interlaced silver handle of his knife. There are black streaks of tarnish forming on the metal. Loki knows this because he is looking at it with the sort of over-attentiveness that comes to him when his thoughts are too numbered and turbulent to efficaciously sort through, tossed about his head like water in an upset bucket.

The stretchy wrapping around his chest presses against his ribs as he breathes, confining him to quick, shallow pants and the trifling, quietly smoldering anxiety that comes with not enough air. But when he tries for deeper, soothing lungfuls, his chest clenches up and aches and all the air is expelled in a rush of coughing so ragged it leaves him lightheaded and his whole side burns with the movement of it. It’s... it’s scary, in a way he doesn’t want to admit to, not even to himself, because it should not be so. Sure, he’d had his fair share and then some of injuries severe enough to merit a visit to Eir to have the healer patch him up — more often than not involving Thor somehow — but that was for head injuries and blood loss, and that one unfortunate time with the aurochs, never something so petty as bruises.

But his ribs are much worse than they have any right to be, and the sense of dread that’s been creeping like frost across his nerves now freezes solid, makes him tense against the need to shiver.

He scratches at a clump of dirt dried in a crevice with the side of his nail, watches it break apart and fall into the wind.

Whatever had happened to him, to his magic, is making him weak and vulnerable. His sole defense lies in his hand, the meager blade of one small dagger. Perhaps it is all he needs. Perhaps he won’t need even so much. But uncertainty casts a much bigger shadow with the knowledge that it may not be enough.

His other hand holds the bag that Charlie had given him, now mostly water, to the worst of the bruising, the cold of it dulling the pain and, with any luck, reducing the swelling also. With any luck, the analgesics the man had given him will take effect soon. Loki hates that in particular, that he can’t just grit his teeth like he wants to, just push through. He hates it nearly as much as having his authority, by both title and autonomy, challenged.

He feels eyes on him, and he turns his head without slowing his not quick but staunch, trudging pace, the black pavement of the road crackling with each step.

“What?” Loki’s voice is hoarse and comes out closer to a bark than anything. He covers it up with a glare, not feeling particularly magnanimous.

She blinks, surprised. Caught, more like. He sneers at her for good measure, and she looks away, her scarred cheek prominent in her profile. He lets his eyes trace the length of it, feeling something squirm in his gut, something he does not recognize.

Her mouth presses into a thin, frustrated line.

“Nothing,” she bites back.

Loki raises his eyebrows.

“I beg your pardon?”

Her head snaps toward him at that, hair loose and swirling, mouth slightly gaped. Her eyes flick over his face like she’s trying to figure him out. He looks back at his knife. Clearly, she has not figured out what it is she’s done.

If he cannot command respect, then perhaps he can tease it out of her by impressing the need for it.

“Is that any manner to talk to a prince? Or have you forgotten already to whom you speak?”

The metal is warm under his palm, cold where his hand does not touch, and as he wraps and rewraps his fingers around it, shifting his hold in increments, the contrast is a sharp and pleasant distraction. But he notices, nonetheless, when the second set of scuffing feet have ceased their movement, and he stops as well, listening to the silence.

“My apologies, my prince.”

It’s terse and barbed and dismal all at once, but she does start walking again. He has gotten under her skin, it would seem. He tries not to feel too pleased. Which isn’t hard, he realizes as the sunlight glints off the shiny hilt, worn smooth from years of use, because he does not feel pleased at all.

***

The inn is small, the old yet picturesque building tucked away in a corner between a dress shop and a teahouse, paneled in light blue with darker shutters and brick chimneys. A sign is posted by the front, wooden and weathered, with the words The Primitive Raven Inn in chipped black paint.

Loki stares at it, stares at the painted silhouettes of a pair of ravens that look hauntingly, impossibly familiar, identical in shape to two such birds he had known intimately. The beady eyes of Huginn and Muninn — for who else could they be? — seem to follow his movement, watching him, and he wonders, trepid, hopeful, if his father can see him here, if the Midgard ravens would return from their long absence, fly back to Odin’s shoulders and whisper in his ears of his lost son.

But then Loki blinks, and the figures on the sign are just two birds.

***

Prince Loki hesitates at the entrance, one foot on a rickety stair and his attention toward the sudden point of focus he’s found, inexplicably, in the denominative sign. A brief moment later, he’s shaken off whatever distracted wariness had taken hold, and you pretend not to notice, and merely wait for him to continue on his way with a slight bow that feels petty even as you’re coming up from it. But it’s the respectful thing to do, ostensibly, even if there’s nothing respectful about your motives.

The inside of the building is a mishmash of richly colored rugs, patterned walls with framed paintings and shelves of vases and baubles, floral curtains and striped couches, and a winding staircase with polished wooden railing in the center. It’s dizzying, and walks the line between garish and quaint, but it smells like blueberries and it’s out of the wind, and there’s a cheery fire in a hearth. Before long a woman comes out of a kitchen area with a smile on her face to greet you and Loki.

“Hello there!” She takes in the sight of you with easy grace, hardly seeming bothered before saying, in a bubbly way that’s genuine enough, “I guess you’re looking for a room for a night or two. Do you have a reservation?”

Loki steps toward her, a grin of his own on his face and his dagger nowhere in sight.

“I’m afraid we do not. I hope that isn’t a problem?”

He sounds sorry enough, polite enough, but the confident expression, the head cocked just so, the pleasant upturn of his lips all register as roguish, in a way distinctly and — to you — uncomfortably charming.

And the woman, the poor woman, drinks it in.

“No worries,” she rushes to assure him, leaving you to sink into the background of blurry afterthought, as she directs her words almost solely to Loki. “We’re not completely booked. You came just in time; we’ve still got a room open.” And she does look at you then, as if upon sudden consideration, and it registers that there is only one room available. “It’s one with two full-sized beds, not a queen or a king. Is that alright with you and your,” she pauses, obviously trying not to sound presumptuous, “lady friend?”

As if that’s the only issue there could possibly be. Not that she would know just how unpleasant a night sharing a room with Loki would be, for both of you, apparently, since the prince seems to treat everyone he meets with more courtesy than he’s ever directed at you, since he seems determined to disparage you at every turn, and you don’t understand why. A perfect stranger gets his good graces and you get his claws, even though you’re stuck here together and you’d saved his life and helped patch him up. A rough night indeed, you think bitterly.

“What, no prince-sized beds?” Prince Loki quips, and the woman laughs, tossing her head back, even though that can’t have made sense to her, damn her.

“Unfortunately, all those rooms were booked,” she returns easily.

Loki flashes his teeth at her, a reward for the banter, before he turns to you. And then he winks, at you, whatever weird mood he’d fallen into earlier completely and bafflingly absent. You have a stretched second to catch on, enough time to think No, but not enough to intervene.

“Well, it’s not ideal, I admit, but it shall suffice.” Damn him. It shall do no such thing! “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, and all that,” Loki sighs, and looks at you again, seeming wistful but for the sparkle in his eyes. “I suppose we could always push the two beds together.”

It’s all you can do to hold something approximating a neutral face, or perhaps just one that’s not caught between ire, mortification, and disbelief. It’s a good thing you gave the dagger back to him, or who knows what you’d be tempted to do for that unnecessary insinuation.

“There’s always that,” the woman agrees cheerfully, not at all deterred from her enchanting chat with Loki, who, if anything, seems to soak up her attention just as much. It’s... you’re not entirely sure what it is, but you don’t like it. It just... feels off. “Can I get a name?” she asks.

“For business or for pleasure?” Loki offers immediately, though it’s clearly meant as a joke, because he follows, just as quickly, with “Odinson. Loki Odinson.”

At that the woman does let her smile drop, just fractionally, her eyes drifting to the side in thought. “Loki...” she says like the name has caught her memory and she’s trying to place it. “Like the god?” she asks conversationally, as she puts down his surname in a little booklet of papers bound together, presumably for record keeping.

Loki leans toward her, grin impossibly wide.

“Yes, exactly. Loki, the god.” He holds out his hand, positively buzzing with magnetism. “May I have yours?”

She eyes him a moment, as if aware of the undercurrent of mischief, and says, “You can call me Kathy,” as she takes his hand. If she was expecting a shake, she shouldn’t have been, because Loki, Prince Loki, presses a kiss to her knuckles, the gesture both genteel and evocative, and how he manages that you may never know.

Kathy blushes at that, utterly delighted, but she seems to rein it in, with a quick glance at you.

“How many nights are you planning on staying, Mr. Odinson?” There is no less enjoyment in her demeanor and tone, but she does take a step back and insert some professionalism, which you feel is long overdue.

And that presents another issue. You have no money to offer, no way to pay for even one night. And unless Prince Loki thinks he can charm his way into a free room — and you really, really, hope that’s not the angle he’s going for — one of you is going to have to come up with something, quickly.

And instead of answering Kathy, and consequently answering your unspoken worry, Loki pulls out his dagger and, with reluctance obvious despite his attempts to smother it, wedges a nail under one of the gems and pries it up. He holds it out to Kathy, bright green and as large as his thumbnail.

“How many nights will this cover?” And his eyes, bright green and narrowed in smug satisfaction watch as Kathy openly gasps in amazement, reaching out and then pulling her hand back as if she daren't touch the emerald, before snatching it up and holding it to the light.

“Is... is this real?” she marvels, turning it this way and that and finding no fault with it.

“It is.”

“I... You... Stay as long as you’d like!” Kathy gushes, looking between the emerald and Loki like she’s hoping she won’t wake from a dream. “Make yourselves at home, Mr. Odinson and Ms...” she trails off, because you have not given your name. You open your mouth to provide it, but Loki answers first.

“In-Hvassa.” The lie rolls easily off his tongue, so smooth you can not determine if it’s meant as an insult to you — or, as unlikely as it sounds, a compliment — some strange attempt at humor, or if you’d simply misheard.

Kathy doesn’t bat an eye, doesn’t understand, doesn’t recognize it as anything other than a surname, even as you fail to make sense of it.

“It’s the second room on the left, room 202” she tells you, somewhat distractedly. “Breakfast is at 7 am, and dinner will be at 5, so you’ve still got a few hours until then, but you can feel free to the leftovers from this morning if you’re hungry in the meantime. And there are several little dive-type restaurants nearby in the Quiet Corner, if that’s your thing.” She looks up, at both of you, with a heartfelt smile, holding up the emerald with a little wave. “And, thank you.”

You do take her up on the offer of food, filling a couple of plates with thin slices of cured salmon, some soft white cheese, hard cooked eggs, and various greens, and grabbing the uneaten end of a loaf of crusty, oat-strewn brown bread. You carry most of it, and Loki doesn’t fight you over it.

You follow him up the stairs, the curve of them leaving you slightly off balance, with soft carpet muffling your feet. He opens a door with a plaque engraved with 202 on it, and you step into a room that’s far more subdued and comfortable looking than the downstairs areas. Aside from the beds, that is, side by side with only a scant armslength and a tiny table between them, which are too close for comfort. If anything, you want to move them farther apart.

The walls are pale green with textured ferns and leaves. There’s a large mirror on one wall, above a black desk, and there are several lamps, paintings, and windows around the room, and even an armchair in one corner. The wood floor creaks beneath you, but it’s an almost pleasant sound, and it reminds you of your home.

You flop down gracelessly on the bed farthest from the door and hand Loki a plate of the food without a word, breaking the piece of bread and handing him one half. He perches against the iron headboard of his bed and absently peels the shell off an egg. When he had zoned out before, he’d been sulky and miffed, but now he just seems... tired, perhaps. Not entirely in a bad way. Whatever perkiness he’d been injecting into his badinage with Kathy had probably been forced.

When you’ve finished your food, you set your plate on the intermediate table and turn toward the prince, who is picking at his food more than eating it, even though he must be hungry.

“Are you alright?” You ask it softly, neither pitying nor pushing.

Unexpectedly, Loki doesn’t seem bothered by the question. He merely looks up at you briefly, before picking up a chunk of bread topped with the salmon.

“I’m feeling better than I was,” he answers before taking another bite. “Thank you.”

And just like that, you’re yet again feeling like you don’t know at all this man before you, who is ever changing and continues to surprise you at every turn with his artful pretending and scarcely perceptible maneuvering. The prince with the sideways, shifting nature of a serpent and the grin of a wolf, at once brave and skittish, vicious and affable in turn. But somehow, that quiet response did not seem like a mask.

“Would you like to bathe first?” you offer, the hard set of your heart strangely thawed. You’re beyond tired as well, apparently, too tired for idle pettiness. And, well, he had said thank you. “I’ll help you with the bandage when you’re done. If you’d like,” you hurry to add, “my prince.”

Loki sets his plate aside and nods. He rises to his feet slowly and carefully and makes his way to the washroom, and as he shuts the door behind him, you feel a flicker of genuine anxiety, because you know Loki is the proud sort, and if he’s not able to muster up a little strength to try to hide the limp in his step, then things must be considerably worse than a normal case of contused ribs. You wonder what exactly Bǫlverkr and Lyngvir did to him to increase his pain exponentially. And, well, the blow from the staff probably didn’t help, you think with a wince.

The distant sound of running water fills the room with a backdrop of steady noise, like a calm rain on a roof, and you might have been inclined to nod off if you weren’t so distracted by a storm of thoughts crashing through your mind like thunder.

***

Loki lets the bandage fall to the tile floor with a sigh of relief and inhales blissfully warm and steamy air, feeling his chest loosen. The pain has been blunted by the medication he’d taken, and he takes advantage of the opportunity to just breathe.

He stands in front of the mirror, running his fingers over the swelling and bruises, and watching his reflection start to fog. It does look dreadful, he realizes, worse than he’d been able to determine from the glimpse he’d caught earlier. But, truly, the bones don’t feel broken, and he supposes he will heal, eventually.

As he lets the warm water cascade over his head and body, lets it wash him and lull him into a calm, sleepy haze, the redolent scent of the shampoo wafting over him, he realizes he does know what’s wrong after all. His assaulters hadn’t prevented him from using his magic. They had, somehow, taken it away, or else suppressed it to the point where he was effectively mortal.

Eventually, he is clean, and immensely refreshed for it, and he wraps himself up in a fluffy, towel-like robe, tying it loosely around his waist. After hanging his cloak up and stacking his dirty clothing on a wire rack to deal with later, he exits the bathroom and steps into the cooler, dryer air of the main bedroom, bandage in hand.

The girl, In-Hvassa, he had aptly called her, he recalls with no small trace of amusement, sits with her arms around her knees on the armchair, legs pulled up in a way that doesn’t look entirely comfortable, but when she looks up and sees him, she stands and steps toward him, reaching for the bandage.

“Not yet,” he tells her, sounding a bit too much like a command he hadn’t meant it as. “It won’t hurt to leave it off a little bit longer. You may bathe first.”

She dips her head with a murmured, “Yes, sir,” and ducks into the bathroom. It makes Loki grit his teeth, the propriety. It doesn’t suit her at all, especially not on Midgard of all places, where he truly is not a prince. But it’s better than that miserable, hateful look she keeps giving him, that one that echos the first of such looks, the one that hurt more than it should have, the accusation of monster implicit. An accusation that he can only go so far in denying. What reason has he given her to believe otherwise?

She returns before much time has passed, quicker than he had been yet still longer than an average shower would be, plenty of time undoubtedly spent scrubbing every inch and basking in how good it feels to not be dirty and chilled. She also is swathed in a white robe identical to his, toweling at the ends of her hair. She sits facing him on the edge of his bed, drapes the towel over her shoulders, and silently picks up the bandage. Loki wriggles out of the top part of his robe to give her better access and holds as still as he can.

She’s not one for undue scrutiny, and Loki is grateful, not liking having a bit of cloth over his lap as his only clothing at the moment, not liking the exposure, the lack of even such a flimsy protection. Her hands are soft and gentle and methodical, and she does not poke around this time as she rewraps the bandage about his chest.

“What exactly happened?” Her voice is quiet despite her nearness. “How we got here, I mean. What was that? Do you know?”

Loki is not sure he does, not entirely. It was some form of transit that spans realms, some second-hand teleportation obviously meant for Loki that she had gotten in the crosshairs of. Loki tells her as much, but as for the how of it, the way Bǫlverkr or Lyngvir or someone had managed to do so, he cannot say. Especially without them touching him whilst doing so.

“They said you’d be ‘gone.’ I didn’t realize they meant it so literally,” she says, a touch of wry humor returning as she clasps the end of the bandage. She scoots back, leaving him room to wrestle his arms back in his sleeves, but she stays sitting on the bed.

“I suppose what remains to be answered is why they’d want me gone.”

Loki turns to her, expectant.

***

He knows. You’re not sure how, but there is no mistaking that keen gaze. He wants you to provide that answer, and he knows that you can. That’s... awfully astute of him, actually.

You’re not sure where to begin. Ülle, treason, Prince Thor... oh Ymir, Prince Thor. He is in danger. Distantly so, you hope severely. Ülle had mentioned a baby. That would take at least some amount of time. And surely the Allfather wouldn’t marry Prince Thor off the second Loki went missing. There would be more time on that for searching, for mourning. And that’s a bleak thought, because they’d have no choice but to presume the prince dead, and you as well, if anyone even noticed you were missing. Your family would eventually, you suppose. There is no telling how long any of that would take, how long before time is up and Thor is the second prince dead to Asgard. How long before you’d figure out a way back, if it would be soon enough or... or not. You don’t want to think about the not.

“There’s a conspiracy,” you say matter-of-factly once you’ve sorted through your thoughts well enough to begin. “To supplant an illegitimate ruler on the Allfather’s throne.” You gauge his reaction, waiting for some subtle sign in his watchful, intense eyes. “A Vanir ruler.”

“Ülle.” It is no question. He knows it just as easily as you’d meant him to. “How are you sure of this?”

“I heard her, as well as the ones called Bǫlverkr and Lyngvir and one other, an older woman, discussing it. They thought nothing of my presence. For whatever reason, Ülle thought me to be incapable of speech, and they seemed eager to dismiss a mute servant, believing I’d be unable to tell anyone about it even if I’d wanted to. They planned to get rid of you somehow. Ülle said something about bestowing you a gift. I... I don’t know what she meant by that.” You frown, because Bǫlverkr had that pouch, and he must have done something with whatever was inside it, and it must somehow be connected to all this. Loki clears his throat, prompting you to continue — or perhaps stifling a cough — but you do nonetheless, shaking off the trepidation for the moment. “She plans to marry Prince Thor, with you out of the way. Have his baby and stick him on the throne. ‘Vanaheim will have the throne’ is what the woman said. Then,” you pause to take a steadying breath, “then they mean to kill Prince Thor.”

Loki is unable to stop a small flinch at that, just a flicker of his eyes pinching shut for a moment, but it’s there, earning a twist of sympathy from your chest. As much as you like and venerate the crown prince, and don’t want to see anything terrible happen to him, Loki is his brother, and, well, you can imagine how difficult it would be to hear of a plan to have your brother killed.

Then Loki’s black eyebrows furrow with a sudden, confused thought, and he blinks at you.

“How did you know where to find me?”

You don’t quite manage to stop a sudden laugh at that, because it so is not what you were expecting, and it would be hard to explain, if that were the case. Most people wouldn’t have even known to begin looking in the forest for him, let alone the exact location within. You certainly hadn’t. However your feet had managed to wander on the right tracks, whatever had led you to the smoke trail and the ravine had been too faultless to be mere serendipity. Perhaps fate, the Norns, whatever higher power there may or may not be, had pushed you in the direction you were meant to go.

“I didn’t.” He jerks his head up with a sharp look at you, and you hold up a finger, asking him not to interrupt while you explain. He closes his mouth and nods for you to speak, which is the second sort of respectful thing he’s done in the last hour, and you... appreciate it. “I looked everywhere in the palace first, or at least it felt like everywhere. I wouldn’t know, exactly, I suppose, I’m not all that familiar with the layout.” You tuck a damp lock of hair behind your ear. That was as close to admitting that you had been completely lost in the halls as you are going to get, even though you don’t doubt Loki’s ability to see right through it. “But I... I couldn’t find anyone, not a single person. I had... I had seen Prince Thor earlier,” and you try not to flush at that, or let on just how much else you’d seen — or heard — then. If he doesn’t know you had eavesdropped, you certainly aren’t going to tell him. “I thought he should have been around somewhere, but he wasn’t, and no one was.” You look at Loki, remembered distress on your face and in your voice. “There should have been someone, shouldn’t there?”

“Yes. There should have been any number of guards and servants about. Unless, of course, someone were to, say, cause a distraction.”

“Right.” You nod a little, and bite at the inside corner of your lip, eyes loosing focus around the edges as you revisit your memory. “I ended up outside, and I remembered something Bǫlverkr had said, that you’d been spending a lot of time in the forest, so I thought, maybe...” You let the rest hang, and pull your legs up under yourself, fiddling with the ties of your robe, the fabric thick and fuzzy beneath your thumbs. “I guess it didn’t really make any difference, in the end.” Oh, the bitter reality of that sinks deep. “You still ended up here anyway.” And so did I.

Loki sighs, a deep, soul-weary sound that might as well have been pulled from your lungs, so similar is it to your own feelings.

“And that, of course, leads back to more unanswerable questions.”

Indeed. Indeed it does.

“What now?” The question is barely whispered, so full of uncertainty that’s reflected in green eyes, just for a moment before they close and turn away.

“I don’t know,” Loki says, just as softly, just as lost. “I don’t know.”

Part 12

[ghoulstars]

im only posting this bc i desperately need to exorcise this thought somewhere bc it wont fucking leave me alone

those of you who know me personally or follow my instagram know about this but for those of you who dont: in a horrible turn of events, our plan to put down our geriatric yellow labrador retriever dixie was unfortunately and unexpectedly doubled today to having to put down our 3 year old engam bulldog, bean, as well

when we got him in mid december, 2015 he was barely out of puppyhood, we found him wandering around near the highway at our local gas station with a collar and no tag, trying to jump into two out-of-towner girls’ car. my stepdad intervened bc they couldnt take bean with them obviously, and brought him home instead.

we put up lost dog flyers everywhere all over our very small city, in an attempt to maybe see if someone would indeed come forward for their dog. we knew he wasnt just a stray because of his collar.

almost right off the bat, we were told by a woman who worked at the gas station that there was a man who lived in the trailer park just across the road, located behind the pancake diner. you can see it from the gas station parking lot. she told us that he had a lot of dogs that he typically kept chained up outside in poor conditions, and beat them regularly. to us? it seemed totally reasonable that that must’ve been where bean came from, given the fact he was a dog and we found him literally less than 50 feet away from where this fucking man lived.

no one came forward to claim bean. we kept those flyers up for months, we only put them up to begin with knowing he may have been thrown out by (or escaped from) this disgusting man just because there was the possibility that it wasn’t his dog, but someone else’s. as well as the potential for legal intervention if this fabled abuser found out we had technically stolen his dog (and full disclosure, fuck him for what he does, i hope all his dogs get stolen like they need to be, i myself was not fond of the idea of just giving the dog back to this creep if he was indeed the owner but i was only 16 at the time so there wasnt much i could do)

with no one claiming bean, after those months passed, we decided that he was ours now. flyers were taken down, we gave him his collar and nametag, to be real he’d already been named by us in the first few days we had him. he was going to be ours no matter what; my mother always told me its a rule that if you name a stray, and do it quick before anyone can object to keeping it, it’s yours now. that’s your pet, with it’s new name.

so we carried on with our lives, now having not just one dog, but two. it was a bit iffy with my stepfather keeping bean since we didnt technically need to manage two dogs at the time, but we still did it anyways because we loved him, the little bean man.

but here’s where my problem lies and this is why im writing this now: as time went on and we continued to have bean as our pet, some stuff about the original suggestion that he belonged to an abusive older man who lived in close proximity to where we found bean wasnt adding up

due to dixie’s failing body, she would sometimes lose control of her bowels inside the house, which was becoming unacceptable when she stayed in overnight. so, she stayed outside. she and bean bonded, so they stayed outside together too. (and for clarity here, i know what some of you might want to say, but we knew very early on that bulldogs do not do well with heat or isolation. we also know that dixie probably shouldve been put down years ago, but here’s the trouble: my stepfather would not let us euthanize her. she is his dog technically, and the thought hurt him so much that he would not agree to it for YEARS. dixie and bean were too attached to separate them for long periods of time like they would be if we kept bean inside mostly and her outside mostly; that would’ve been cruel in its own special way. we put pools out for bean and visited with both dogs for as much as we could outside, bathed them, put fans out for them in the summer. our only option to give bean the main love and care he needed was, and of course we had other reasons to do this, to put dixie down, which was where we thought we were finally going to be by tomorrow, but thats not what happened, as you can tell)

as to be expected, bean sometimes found his way inside, mostly by applying his american bulldog traits to memorizing when unfamiliar guests would come over and bolt in the house. he did this enough times and very recently we were letting him stay inside instead of taking him back out, and all of these experiences combined, we noticed something: bean was housebroken. he was out of practice with it, and did not know very well how to communicate that he needed to go outside to use the bathroom, but he did know what to do. he would run to the door if he had to go, not always making it, but still, he was housebroken. he only marked furniture once while inside, in his entire lifespan thus far. that was a red flag to us, but especially my mother, who realized this skill of beans directly contradicted the statement that he was probably kept outside, chained up, starved, and beaten by the trailer park guy. not to mention, bean came to us in nearly perfect condition to begin with, just skinny. no patches of fur gone, he was the opposite of skittish and aggressive, no bruises, nothing. just a loving, bouncy, stupid bulldog mix

this, im not sure if im correct about this, but it stands out enough to me that i feel its worth mentioning: bean is not a mutt of any kind, and his breed contradicts those types of breeds most people who abuse animals come to own; usually large breeds, breeds inaccurately known for aggression, and breeds used by abusers to make aggressive bc they know the fighting power of these dogs (pitbulls, american bulldogs, etc). bean is an engam bulldog (english/american mix), which is a very obscure mixed breed dog to begin with and especially obscure where i live, and as we all know english bulldogs are short, stout, fat little things that can basically do no harm whatsoever. they also have a history of inbreeding to look how they do. i know this man may have just seen ‘bulldog’ and snagged him thinking he’d be aggressive, but that does not sit right with me for two other reasons: bean’s conformation (body structure) and coloration. there is nothing about bean that suggests he was bred to be used for fighting, or that he’s a true mutt, or anything of the sort. his body type literally resembles that of show dogs, and his fur coloration is highly unusual because he’s blue. obviously not literally blue but the type of blue-grey you can find in animals, typically seen in cats. bean’s coloration is almost NEVER found in ANY breed of bulldog, it is INCREDIBLY rare that he looks like this. his condition in which we found him, his housebrokenness, his color and his body formation lead, in me and my family’s opinion, to an alternative opinion: he belonged to someone that got him because they wanted a dog as a pet, not to beat, and they either bred him themselves or bought him (probably from a pet store or breeder) for his color and conformation. 

but why would they dump a dog this valuable? my mom said this to me earlier, sobbing after she returned from the vet today, and this is my whole reason for writing this insane fucking novel of a post: whoever dumped bean threw out a sick puppy, and on purpose.

bean hasnt been injured or contracted an unvaccinated illness or anything like that. he had been experiencing extreme stomach distension for the past month, whereas he was losing weight everywhere else on his body. he had also been vomiting. but he wasnt depressed, or lethargic. maybe his personality was a little off but not so much it was horribly noticeable, and at that, he was still eating regularly everyday. we came to the conclusion he had parasites, though ive always been terrified something more serious was going on (i dont get listened to though).

as it turns out, i was right. mom took him in today, the day before dixie was set to be put down, for his deworming pills. what she got instead was a diagnosis of possible lung cancer. his blood work was normal, which is unusual in animals with cancer, but he still had nodules on his lungs that highly resembled cancer. his heart was also severely enlarged due to heartworms, and his stomach was so distended because it was full of fluid and blood. they did send his blood off for labs, but even if his lungs were fine, he was going to die anyway (they got a second opinion from another practice and they also agree it was probably cancerous). he has a 15% survival rate for only the very first heartworm treatment, which will cost $500. nothing lives very long with an enlarged heart to begin with. we don’t have that money, and for a treatment that will definitely kill him? i dont even know why he has so much blood and fluid in his digestive tract. bean, a dog who is only 3 or 4 years old, has an enlarged heart, lung tumors and fluid/blood all in his abdomen. the vet was apparently stunned that a dog this young could have this many potentially (and one definitely) fatal health problem(s).

i now fully believe that whoever owned him before knew he had all these issues, or that he was going to develop them. i think it makes sense. i also think they’re cheap, cruel fucks who didnt want to shell out that much money to take care of him, or pay to take him to a shelter/sanctuary, and so what did they do? they did what many people these days very regularly do when their new pet has become undesirable: they fucking dumped him on the side of the road and booked it. took his nametag off and everything, to make him look like a stray. they left him for some well meaning, animal loving family like mine to find him, not know anything about these preexisting health issues, and assume he’s healthy enough; maybe just needs a few more vaccinations and a worm and flea treatment. he showed no signs of lung cancer or heart problems in all his life up until this past month, and he’s still so young. i will even go as far as to say that he himself may be severely inbred, which could be the cause of these health issues. given his specific posture and color, and that he’s a bulldog, it’d make sense. it seems like he came from some kind of breeder to begin with anyway.

so now that ive said that and got it all out of the way, i want to leave an open letter to the hypothetical cunt that did this to us and bean:

i hope god fucking strikes you down where you stand. i hope every single day of your miserable fucking life, you think about where he ended up, if he’s still alive, if anyone found him, if he ever got hit by a car or died alone of cancer and heart failure in a field somewhere. i hope you feel guilt for leaving him knowing he’d develop cancer and that he had heart worms, and knowing you did it BECAUSE of that. i hope you never fucking forget about the fact that you threw an INNOCENT LITTLE PUPPY out on the highway because you just didnt want to have anything to do with his illnesses, and i hope one day you find out what you did to us and this innocent little boy. he’s such a good fucking dog, he is so patient, kind, loving and gentle, and when he has bursts of energy to play he fucking goes, and now he has to die barely halfway through his lifespan because of your fucking negligence. he is laying outside on the porch right now, uncomfortable with fluids and blood backing up his intestines, coughing and huffing just to try and breathe. at the very least, if he were taken to the right shelter, he couldve been fucking cared for and given treatments to extend his life as much as possible, or at least given hospice care for however long he could live, which has now been shortened to 3 or 4 years. if you yourself knew this dog was inbred or you inbred him yourself, fuck you. i hope you get run over by a fucking truck. this breed can live from 12-16 years, that’s a LONG time for a dog like him, and you had to fucking ruin it all because of your own fucking preferences; you wanted the perfect dog. and you could’ve had him if you’d grown a fucking heart and actually gave a shit about animals beyond how they look aesthetically; as well, if you fucking actually gave a shit about your animals HEALTH and wanted to maintain it instead of apparently assuming he’d just be fine and healthy with all his vaccinations and that’d be the end of it. you do not deserve to own an animal if you dont even want to acknowledge it will sometimes need medical care, how fucking heartless are you? we never had enough money to take care of dixie’s failing health, and we always knew it’d be better to put her down, but my stepdad kept refusing. you had enough money to fucking breed or buy a blue show-quality engam bulldog and you still wouldnt fucking care for him after you found out what problems he had. fuck you. eat shit and die. i hope you never find peace from the guilt of knowing you fucking killed what became our dog because you’re selfish. my mother is physically sick with grief. i am physically sick with grief. i feel so bad that it’s as if i have the fucking flu. i was trying to talk with my mother about this situation earlier and i had to rush to leave because i felt like i was about to throw up if i didnt. everyone in this house has cried so much today it’s disgusting. 

the only thing good about this is that bean came along for dixie when she needed him most, and became her helper and provider, giving her company and being a literal post to lean on for when she couldnt see where she was going. they’re going over the rainbow bridge tomorrow morning together, and in a way, this is probably the best outcome. at least bean wont have to grieve. dixie can see her old companion again (who died from a ruptured tumor in 2014) and bean can meet him, and they can all play and be together in that field in the sky. 

my family will never have another dog again because of this pain this has caused us.