#oh and I know I usually try to keep chapter length consistency

[petite-phthora]

Take care...

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 11]

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Part 1

Ao3

---

Their first stop was a small café near Robinson Park; Alysia's Boba Bar & Café. After each of them had placed their order, with Jason paying, saying it was ‘his treat’ and that ‘he had promised he’d be the one paying earlier’, they took their food outside.

They did get some stares from the customers and employees, mainly aimed at Jason who’s wearing his Red Hood gear, but they just ignored them minus some intimidation from Jason from afar.

Though, Jason wasn’t quite sure if Danny actually ignored them or just blatantly didn’t even notice them.

Either way, they were currently sitting on a bench in the park. Jason had taken his helmet off and put it next to him so that he could eat, still wearing his domino mask anyway. He’s also still wearing the watch Danny had gifted him.

And he’s never taking that off, holy shit he loves it so much.

Danny is sipping on the leftovers of his boba, having already scarfed down his sandwich. Jason starts his tour, telling him about Robinson Park and pointing out Gotham Zoo right next to it.

After they’re both done with their food, Jason puts his helmet back on and they get back onto his motorcycle so he can point out important landmarks while driving around.

Jason and Danny proceed to chat a bit during the ride as well, just some basic stuff to get to know one another; favorite color, favorite food, how they would disarm someone with a gun and de-escalate the situation, opinions on otters and how they hold onto each other so they don’t drift away, favorite movies, etc.

And Jason is desperately trying to focus on driving instead of Danny’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

---

"Over there is the Iceberg lounge."

Danny’s gaze follows where Jason is pointing, falling on a big two-story building with a sign on the outside reading ‘Iceberg Lounge’.

"It's a nightclub owned by the Penguin, one of Batman’s rogues. It’s mainly just a front for his criminal activities, but the nightclub itself is actually pretty good to be fair. Bit posh though"

---

"See that big tower in the middle there? That's Wayne Tower. It's basically the office building of Wayne Enterprises, the company owned by Gotham’s very own multi-millionaire Bruce Wayne." Red Hood says, sarcasm dripping off of his words at the end.

Danny lets out a small non-committal hum.

“You don’t sound too fond of him” Danny inquiries curiously.

“I’m not“ Red Hood states, not elaborating in the slightest.

Danny tries to lighten the mood a little “Well, as long as he doesn’t try to adopt me I guess he’s still better than another millionaire I know.”

Danny smiles as he hears Red Hood laugh.

---

"Over there’s Gotham City Public Library. It’s one of my favorite places in the city. I tend to go there at least once a week. They’ve got a ton of books and are willing to order any they don’t have at request. There’s also some computers there that are free for public use."

"You like reading?" Danny asks curiously.

"Mhmm. I'm mainly in the classics like Charles Dickens, Lewis Carroll, Jane Austen, Mary Shelley, etc."

“Oh, nice. I don’t usually read much. English was basically my worst subject at school, but the teacher was pretty good. Kind of ended up being one of the only ones in my corner and he really tried his best, y’know?”

“He sounds pretty nice. Is there a reason you haven’t read much, like lack of interest or…?” Jason trails off questioningly.

Danny shrugs “I guess I never really had the time as a teenager, with an added lack of motivation on top. And now… I guess I don’t really know what kind of books I’d like or where I should start.”

“I could recommend you some? If you want me to?”

“Sure, that’d be nice”

---

"The large building over there is Arkham Asylum. It's basically a psychiatric hospital. Batman dumps all of his rogues here, though they keep breaking out."

"Oh yeah, I’ve heard of this place. My older sister applied to work here"

"Dr. Jasmine Fenton?" Jason questions, even if he was already pretty sure who Danny was referring to.

"Mhmm,” Danny nods, “she recently gained her doctorate and wants to be a psychiatrist at Arkham"

"... I wish her good luck" Is the response Jason decides on.

"I’m sure she can do it" Danny proclaims, somehow embodying the :D smiley face.

Jason considers the possibility of her having similar meta powers to her brother and decides that if she does she'll probably be fine.

Not to mention she has Danny in her corner… And Red Hood now as well.

---

"What's that building over there?" Danny asks as they're driving on one of the roads on the outskirts of the main part of the city.

Jason looks at where he's pointing, spotting the manor.

"That's Wayne Manor. Do you remember that millionaire I mentioned earlier? The one that owns Wayne Tower and WE? That's where he lives."

Danny sounds a little surprised as he asks "He lives in that huge building? All by himself?"

"Well, not really. He has some kids, most of whom are adopted though you wouldn’t believe the field day the press had when it was found out he had a biological son. Besides them, he also has a butler that lives at the manor”

Once again, it seems Danny has noticed Jason’s standoffish attitude at Wayne, as he tries to lighten the mood a little.

"That manor is still way too big for all of them. Like what are they doing with all of that space? Are they hiding something? I bet they have a huge secret basement underneath the manor with some kind of laboratory and some shit. Millionaires seem to love those."

Jason lets out a surprised laugh at how on-the-nose Danny is, making Danny grin at his successful attempt to lighten the mood a little. Though it makes him question for a little bit…

He doesn’t know, right? Or does he…

"You know, I think the manor is actually missing something" Danny speaks up again.

"Oh? And what’s that?" Jason asks with humor in his tone.

"It would look way better TPed" Danny states confidently, bearing a mischievous grin.

Jason barks out a laugh, a sharp grin on his face.

"Let's save that for the next date, Doll"

Danny lets out a slightly giddy laugh, his cheeks red and heart beating just a little faster at both the 'next date‘ part and the unexpected, but not unwelcome, nickname.

---

“And this,” Jason says, as he gestures proudly towards the streets around them, “is Crime Alley, which is my turf in this city. I’m the one protecting this place.”

Jason had brought Danny to Crime Alley as the last stop on their date.

“Oh yeah!” Danny speaks up. “I was wondering about that!”

Jason turns to him questioningly and Danny takes it as a sign to continue.

“Yeah so, why is it called crime alley?” he asks curiously with a tilt of his head.

Say what now?

Jason takes a deep breath.

“Are you serious?” Jason asks genuinely curious, gesturing at the drug deal taking place behind them, the mugger that’s running past, and towards the right where gunshots can clearly be heard.

To his credit, Danny doesn’t falter at all, giving Jason a smile and continuing.

“Yeah, I thought it was called Park Row or something like that. Did it get renamed?”

Jason closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before letting out a strained “Something like that…”

He takes another deep breath before looking back at Danny, who’s still looking at him with a bright smile.

“Is there really no reason you can think of why this place would get nicknamed crime alley? Not one reason at all? None?”

A small explosion sounds and some metal shrapnel falls in little pieces around them. A car tire rolls past. Danny and Jason don’t look away from one another.

Danny ‘grew up with mad scientist parents, an OSHA-violating lab in the basement, fighting ghosts, causing property damage, evading ghost police, fighting a king, is pretty certain his parents have been committing some kind of tax evasion for their research funding, etc., etc. though none of that was really an excuse as his friends and sister didn’t turn out quite as blind to danger as him.’ Fenton thinks about it for barely a second before shrugging.

“No, not really. Why?”

“This is where the Joker attacked you.” Jason tries pointing out, causing Danny to take a good look around them.

“Oh, that’s right! I was wondering why this place looked so familiar! I gotta say, it looks different in the daylight. But I mean, that attack could’ve happened anywhere, couldn’t it? What’s so special about this place?”

God, how can he be so smart yet so stupid?

Now is really not the time to kiss him, Jason.

“It’s… just a nickname, given to the district by the Gothamites. Poverty runs rampant and the crime rates here are… above average, let’s say, when compared to the rest of Gotham. Only old rich folks still call it Park Row” Is what Jason decides to say.

“So yeah, it’s probably best if you try to avoid this place, especially at night. Though God knows you can handle yourself, considering the way you went at the Joker” Danny snorts at the innuendo.

“It’s still better to be safe than sorry and keep away from this place, unless you’re with me. The people around here know better than to mess with me and the people I’m with, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Hmmm, are you sure the crime rates are higher here?”

On their left, a guy dressed in a gray hoodie with suspicious dark red stains on it runs at a car, gets in, and drives off as fast as he can with the car alarm still going off.

“Yes.”

“Oh, okay! I’ll try to keep that in mind then”

God have mercy.

---

Red Hood had driven them back to Danny’s apartment after their date in order to drop him off. Meanwhile, Danny is still not quite over the fact that he can actually call it a date!

After they both get off of the motorcycle, Red Hood walks him the few feet to the front door of his apartment building, and it’s time for them to say goodbye again.

Do they kiss now? Or should he wait till the next date?

Danny really wants to kiss him right now.

But he’s wearing his helmet so it would be awkward as fuck.

Especially if he had to ask Red Hood to take it off.

No, Danny can’t do that. Just no, he’d have his second death, this time of embarrassment instead of electricity. It’s some variation at least?

“See you later, —”

Danny cuts himself off with a not-so-subtle fake cough, cheeks heating up in embarrassment at what he was about to say. He had almost let out another cringy animal-themed goodbye, just like last time.

Great going, Fenton. Despite not going for the kiss, he still managed to almost fuck it up.

It’s like he’s digging himself a bigger hole by the minute.

Red Hood stops walking and pauses. Seeing this, Danny lowers his head to stare at the ground, his body stiff.

---

Jason can’t quite believe he’s doing this, and if any of the bats heard him, he’d never hear the end of it. But… to put Danny at ease…

“Take Care, Polar Bear”

The sentence makes Danny snap his head back up immediately. His mouth is slightly open, as though he’s trying to come up with something to say and failing.

Not waiting for Danny to answer him, Jason starts moving towards his motorcycle again.

Danny, with his cheeks still slightly red, stares at the leaving figure of Red Hood. His gaze is full of adoration, as he just falls a little deeper for the helmed vigilante.

Jason is thankful the helmet obscures Danny’s view of his blushing face as he gets on his motorcycle. He gives one last wave to Danny before revving the engine and leaving for his apartment.

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea   @uraniumwizard    @why-must-i-be-like-this   @griffinthing

[graysonshmayson]

FAQ- OP has offered the following info for context:

Ok part of me wanted to let this all slide, but I think some more context could be helpful!

Please take yourself and everyone else in your family to therapy?

Oh trust me, this is our behavior as medicated, therapy-going individuals, although my dad hasn’t gone to therapy consistently since he was young. Getting J to do anything that involves talking about how he feels usually involves threats of violence. 

Why is NO ONE ELSE helping your dad? 

No one can. He doesn’t really form close relationships. His closest friendships are his coworkers and he still keeps them at arm's length when it comes to personal things. SUPER hard boundaries, and he can be really scary so it's impossible to push it. Other than that, he has no family and lives alone now except for 2 of us kids and our grandpa. Our grandpa is an angel and tries to help him but ultimately my dad is so stubborn it's hard. He’s a lifesaver though, and helps a lot in connecting us to our dad and putting him in his place when he needs it. 

How many kids does your dad need? And why are they working in the company?

Well, his only biological kid is D! But there���s a lot of us and the official count is 6. He really has a soft spot for helping kids, though, because of his own experiences and so we’re kind of a haven for wayward teens. He mentors a lot of people, and they idolize him and want to help out. If he didn’t let them, they would try anyway, and that would be dangerous for everyone. Our family doesn’t end or start with blood. 

How the hell did T get involved at 14?

There’s not much of a way to say this that doesn’t sound weird, but he just started hanging around him until he got the position. I’m not going to take any slander when it comes to this, my dad is absolutely not a creep, T was just incredibly stubborn. He was getting in harm's way, so my dad decided to employ him so he was at least in charge. T’s dad was involved in an accident, and my dad took pity on him and got more involved. They were a good team. When T’s dad died, it only made sense to adopt him. 

Why not get custody of D?

I had quite a few people ask me this, and the short answer is that I didn’t want to. I have no interest in taking D away from his father, even if I disagree with his parenting sometimes. D has lost enough family, and it would only serve to destroy my relationship with both of them. My grandfather had custody of D, but he was getting up there in age, so I stepped in to help. 

Why didn’t your dad adopt you?

This was a resounding response to all of my posts, saying that I don’t owe him anything and have no legal ties to the family, so I should get out of there while I still can. The truth is, I was furious after my parents died. Even when my dad took me in, I ran away all the time, I got into fights, and I didn’t want him controlling me. I was spiraling, and I didn’t like being spoken down to, especially by him because he was absent due to his work. He thought that if he treated me as an equal instead of a child, I would respond to him better, which isn’t super wrong. Me working in the company helped us bond, and develop a mutual respect. I think he was afraid of ruining that and I know he was afraid of asserting himself as a father. When I was younger, it felt like he just didn’t want to be my dad. Sometimes I felt like I was a charity case he took on for himself, more than for me. I asked him why when I grew up, and he told me that he didn’t want to look like he was trying to replace my parents. He wanted to respect their place in my life and told me that it never meant he didn’t see me as his son. He didn’t want to come on too strong, and was too emotionally constipated to ask me how I felt about it. He recognized his mistake and fixed it, but I was too old to be legally adopted by then. I don’t even call him Dad most of the time (pretty much none of us do), but we still see him that way. 

How did J come back to life?

Basically we didn’t have the right body, and it turned out he survived and was hanging out with some shady circles for years before he came back. Probably plotting his revenge considering how dramatic he was when he came back. He’s pretty much fine, now though. Still a little shady but not committing as many crimes. He’s a good person when it comes down to it, just angry.

[stickyy]

I loved what you wrote about student! college! aizawa,if it's not too much trouble,I would like to read a second part but it contains a sub!aizawa,dom!reader,mommy kink and pegging please. I have to take advantage of the fact that you are the first blog with dark content that I see that accepts pegging,an opportunity that I will not miss,but if it gets complicated for you oh you don't like it,you can reject my request.

DISCLAIMER: always ask for consent first!

warnings: DUBCON, sub!aizawa, edging, verbal abuse, bondage, pegging, gn!reader but light mommy kink is used in reference to, praise kink if you squint?, slightly unrealistic depictions of pegging, reader is fed up but that doesnt excuse their actions :P

word count: 3489

notes: sorry for the delay, i hope u like anon! :D there should always be more pegging fic out there

part 1 here

EXAM SEASON

Finals season is quickly approaching, sending the entire campus into a frenzy, students scrambling like displaced ants trying to finish last minute assignments, novel-esque essays, merciful extra credit projects. The workload takes its toll on everyone, even the star students. You found Aizawa in even worse moods more frequently; a schedule consisting of all nighters spent studying old material followed by early classes and a job on the side, he was absolutely exhausted. You sometimes sneak a peek over at him during class to see his head bobbing slightly, bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open as he fights sleep. A small part of you feels bad for him; he’s a diligent student, and you were sympathetic to his exhaustion.

You still hate the asshole, though.

You found yourself snagged in a twisted sort of arrangement with Aizawa after midterms. There was always a half-assed attempt at tutoring you before giving up and cramming his cock down your throat or deep inside your cunt, leaving you sore and dripping with his cum, all the while spewing insults targeted at your intelligence (or lack thereof). In exchange, he’d complete your assignments and allow you to copy his answers on exam days. Ignoring the situation is where you make peace with yourself; you feel used, but you also have no other option if you want to pass this class.

What you hate the most is the way you roll over and take it. You’re more than just a hole to fuck, you know that, but you’re helpless against his searing abuse and venomous scowls. Even when you try to be nice, it only makes him crueler, your soft pleas and offers of peace an invitation to tear you down and make you cry. You want to fight, to claw and tear into him out of spite. You don’t want to feel so weak anymore.

So, you decide to do something about it.

It’s late, campus illuminated by street lamps and headlights of cars passing by as you make your way into the dorms. After your first encounter, Aizawa began inviting you back to his room instead of the library, deciding to “study” in his personal space as opposed to possibly getting caught in the library with his cock down your throat. You didn’t complain, but it’s especially convenient today, with what you have planned. Knocking on the door softly, you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, anxious for what’s to come.

“Open,” he calls out from inside, prompting you to enter. You pass through the messy common room he shares with his roommate and enter his bedroom, opening the door quietly. Aizawa’s room is tidy compared to the outside, bed made, tousled only where he sits with his laptop, typing.

“You’re late,” he squints at you from behind the screen, shutting the device. “Not surprising.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, placing your book bag on the floor and taking out the very heavy law textbook (that you hadn’t bothered to open since midterms). You take your seat next to him and open to the most recent chapter you read over. He’s silent, only speaking to answer your questions as you focus on the text. You can tell he’s sleepy, his responses slurred and delayed, and you glance over to see him dozing off. Late study sessions and Aizawa’s recent exhaustion meant more often than not that he fell asleep before tormenting you. The first time was startling, but you learned that it was a regular occurrence. 

You prefer Aizawa when he’s drowsy. His usually hard features were softened, quiet snores rumbling from his chest. His dark hair messily framing his face as he leans back against the headboard of his bed, arms folded over his chest. He’s good-looking, no doubt. If his personality matched, you could see yourself falling for him.

His eyes open, shooting you a questioning look, and you duck your head back into your textbook, embarrassed at being caught staring.

You keep quiet for another 20 or so minutes, waiting until he’s truthfully asleep and not just resting. You have to be careful not to wake him, as you aren’t keen on being reprimanded for what you're about to do.

Once you’ve deemed it safe, you stealthily open your bag and retrieve the small plastic bag stored inside. With the help of online shopping, you bought some handcuffs, lube, a dildo, and a harness. You aren’t all into pegging, but this was less about the sex and more about proving yourself, forcing him to respect you, in some perverse way. You retrieve the cuffs, gripping them carefully as to not make any sounds. This is the most crucial part; as long as you could get him restrained, you’d could dish out any revenge you desire. You slip off of the bed and tip-toe, almost comically, around the other side of the bed. You test the waters, snapping your fingers near Aizawa. He doesn’t stir, chest rising and falling with his deep breathing.

You steel yourself with a deep breath; this was your chance. You make quick work with the handcuffs, gently yet hastily clicking the metal around one wrist and looping the cuffs through the headboard before securing his other wrist. A grin spreads across your face; you’re thankful he’s such a deep sleeper.

Now that you had him where you wanted him, you were paralyzed by the sheer amount of possibilities. You climb over him apprehensively, hovering over the unconscious man, who only shifts minutely. The peaceful look on his face puts a small pit in your stomach; this was wrong… right? Technically, this was assault. You frown, a small chill running down your spine. Is this what you had become? It was almost enough to convince you to stop, but you force yourself to remember the first time Aizawa had his way with you, the way you choked and gagged and had to hide your face until you could find a bathroom to wipe off the dried cum that adhered to your skin.

This was his fault; he made you like this.

“Fuck it,” you say aloud, bracing yourself before grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking, hard. He awakes with a surprised gasp, wrenching his head away from the assault.

“The fuck?” He bites, eyes drowsily scouring the situation. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just waking you up,” you smile, releasing your grip. “It’s kind of boring watching you sleep. I thought we were supposed to be studying.”

Aizawa gives you an agitated look, disoriented as he tries to move, only to find his range of motion limited. “You fucking handcuffed me?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe you didn’t wake up,” you chuckle, sliding your hands under his shirt and running your hands over his taut stomach. He keeps his eyes on you with an expectant expression, waiting for an explanation.

“You know, I like you so much more when you're asleep,” you continue, idly tracing patterns on the skin of his abdomen. “No insults, no curses, no glaring. You’re pretty handsome when you’re not being a total douchebag.”

“Let me go,” he ignores you, yanking the handcuffs. “This isn’t funny.”

“I think it’s pretty funny, actually. You’ve spent all semester treating me like shit, and for what? All I’ve done is be nice to you, even after you call me names and abuse me. It hurts my feelings, you know? It’s not like I’m trying to fail this class, I just needed a little extra help, and you take advantage of that every week. So I do think this is pretty fucking hilarious. Maybe you’ll see just how great I feel when you bully me.”

If looks could kill, your heart would have stopped right then and there. Rage burns behind his glare when he meets your eyes, still struggling to break the cuffs. You’d never seen him like this; at his worst, he seems moderately annoyed in your day to day. Despite being an insufferable asshole, he always manages to keep a cool air about him. Never giving anyone much of a reaction, he’s only nasty when he desires. Watching his face take a red tint and his eyes narrow in frustration send waves of satisfaction rippling through your chest. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he grits out, “If you let me go now, I’ll forget all about this. I promise that you don’t want what’s coming for you once I get out of these cuffs.”

He did have a point; you had no idea what you were doing. That wasn’t going to stop you, though.

“Aw, it’s not so fun now, isn’t it?” You coo at him in a demeaning tone, pouting dramatically. Your wandering hands slid to his crotch, where you could feel his length stirring curiously. You bark out a laugh.

Pulling down his sweats and boxers, your mouth waters at his hardening length. Normally, your stomach would drop at the sight in anticipation for physical abuse you were about to receive. But this? This was different; knowing that you’re the one in control is absolutely captivating. You take his cock in your hands, slowly working your hand up and down. He stays silent in defiance, steady in his glare in an attempt to intimidate you. It would work, usually, but with his hands bound there was nothing he could do to you. He’s betrayed by a pleased noise that slips from his throat.

“Don’t tell me you like this? You want to be taken advantage of, is that it?” you taunt, basking in his agitation as you speed your hand up, thumbing the pre gathering on the slit.

“Watch it,” is his only response, voice dangerously low. He keeps quiet, not willing to surrender to the reactions you’re trying to draw from him. It’s a challenge, if anything, and you weren’t going to back down..

He’s fully erect in no time- you’ve spent enough time as his cocksleeve to know exactly what he likes and responds to. His eyes fall shut as you squeeze tighter, hips canting up into your hand, chasing his own release. You keep it up until he gets a little louder, close to release, and you pull your hand away, watching his dick twitch helplessly.

“Fuck- why’d you stop?” he asks groggily, opening his eyes.

“You didn’t think that I was just going to let you cum that easily, did you? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” you shuffle off of the bed, smiling over your shoulder as you hook your thumbs in the band of your leggings. You make a show of sliding the material down over your ass, purposefully leaning over and arching your back. You hear a pleased growl from the bed, causing you to giggle as you pull your underwear down as well.

“You could still let me go,” he offers, giving you a once over as you climb back over him, “I could forget about this if you let me fuck you.”

“Nice try, but I’ll be the one doing the fucking tonight,” you grab your bag from the floor, retrieving the lube but leaving the dildo and harness obscured in the bag. You squeeze a generous amount onto your fingers, causing Aizawa to give you a puzzled look.

“You don’t need lube, you’re always so wet for me,” it’s more of a question than an observation, since your previous trysts never included anything but his spit and your own juices. You just give him a smile before nudging his thighs open with your own, trailing your hand slowly beneath his balls, settling in between his ass and your lubed fingers circle the muscle there. The look on his face is priceless, absolutely shocked at the prospect of you inside of him. He thrashes in protest but you’re steadfast, pinning his hips down with your other hand.

“You can’t be serious,” his voice is alarmed, almost erring on the side of anxious, “you’re dumber than I thought if you think you’re just going to get away with any of this shit.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you sing-song, using your dry hand to tug playfully on the cuffs, “You’re a little tied up at the moment.”

“I’m going to beat your cunt up when I get out of these,” it’s a threat, and you ignore the way your stomach flutters at the words, eyes trained on his as you push two fingers inside.

He grunts, his face scrunching up, almost cutely, at the burn of the stretch. You expected him to be tight, but given how tense he is, it’s difficult to push all the way inside. You take it slow, savoring the pained expression on his face; it’s a stark contrast to his cocky demeanor when you’re being subjugated to his abuse. His chest is heaving, a lovely red flush spreading across his skin, eyebrows knit tight, lips bitten red- you’re obsessed. You move your fingers in and out slowly, scissoring just gently enough not to seriously hurt him, but enough to watch him writhe. His dick twitches despite (or maybe due to?) the pain, still red and dripping.

“This is priceless,” you laugh, “if you wanted to get fucked so badly, all you had to do was ask, you know? Mommy would’ve taken care of it for you.”

“Mommy?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “you’re insane.”

Any further insult is cut off with a sharp gasp, eyes shooting open in shock, and you know you’ve found it.

You stroke his prostate with a heavy hand, grinding your fingers into the spongy spot inside of him as he struggles to breathe, back arching deliciously. You can’t help but smirk; you kind of get it now. If this is how tormenting you makes Aizawa feel, then you understand why he was so cruel.

“Fuck,” he chokes on a whine that sends heat down your spine, . Your wrist is beginning to strain, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s cute; he’s writhing, his hips seeking the stimulation he was previously avoiding as he moans openly, loudly. His cock is an angry purple, pre pooling on his stomach from where it’s leaking. He looks like he’s close, eyes beginning to roll back when you pull your fingers out, laughing as you ruin his orgasm for the second time.

“Please,” he’s breathless, a betrayed look on his face as his hips rock on nothing, desperate to cum.

“Begging already? We haven’t even gotten started yet!”

You reach over into the plastic bag, pulling out the dildo and harness. You can clearly see the fear on his face this time as he moves to sit up, the fog of pleasure clearing quickly.

“Wait,” panic sets in his voice yet again. If you were him, you would be scared too; the toy is thicker than the two fingers you used, something you chose purposefully. You stand and slip on the harness, ignoring his attempts to reason with you.

“What’s wrong? I thought I didn’t know what I was doing?” you ask innocently, forcing your hips between his legs and drizzling some lube on the toy, warming it up with your palm.

“That’s the fucking problem, you idiot, you don’t,” he seethes, pulling on the restraints again, “It won’t fit, and you’re not sending me to the hospital.”

“Exactly, I won’t send you to the hospital. Mommy’s gonna take good care of you,” you coo, settling between his legs.

“Just let me go,” it’s the first genuine plea you’ve heard from him, the sincerity pulling your attention to his eyes where you see a look you can’t quite place. He looks… afraid? Remorseful? It’s enough to give you pause, equal parts consideration and schadenfreude. You settle for leaning forward and placing an uncharacteristically saccharine kiss on his forehead, your humanity getting the best of you.

“All you have to do is relax, okay?” you whisper, resting the tip of the toy against his entrance. He shuts his eyes in anticipation, resigned to his fate, and you push in gently, watching his hole swallow the silicone. The way Aizawa contorts, back bowed to scoot away from the pressure of the toy is salacious, drawing a moan from deep within your chest. He can’t get far due to the restraints, and he lets out a soft sob at the stretch of the toy, face scrunched tight. You push slowly until you bottom out, your hips pressed firmly against his, grinding in small circles to alleviate your own ache. He exhales shakily, unaware that he was holding his breath.

“See, it’s not so bad right?” you soothe, rubbing your thumb against his hip soothingly. “You should be grateful; I’m so much nicer than you are.”

“Fuck you,” it comes out weaker than intended, his voice strained as he tries to adjust to the girth of the toy. 

You pull out slowly, experimentally, watching his stomach clench from the sensation of silicone caressing his insides. His dick gives an interested twitch, despite his demeanor, and that’s the invitation you need to start moving. It’s a little awkward at first, but your enthusiasm combined with the size of the toy more than makes up for your inexperience. He’s breathless, still uncomfortable, but you can see his body slowly relax as he tries to make sense of the sensations coursing through his body.

“You like this, don’t you?” you dig, eyes transfixed on his face, “Is that why you're so mean to me? You strut around like an asshole, just to hide the fact that you’re just a little bitch?”

You focus on angling your hips, searching for his prostate again, and when you find it, you commit to fucking him. He’s loud, stray tears sliding down his face as his body struggles to comprehend both the pain of the stretch and pleasure of the abuse.

“Fuck, you’re cute like this,” you sigh, “you’re meant for this, aren’t you? Meant to get your ass bred by your Mommy? You’d be so much more tolerable if you were sweet like this all of the time.”

His dick jerks violently but he shakes his head with a weak ‘no’, too lost in the sensation to retort any further. You’re soaked by now, the pressure of the toy on your end combined with the power trip pushing you to the edge. It takes all of your self-control, but you suddenly stop, unwilling to let yourself finish so quickly; there’s still unfinished business here.

“Tell me I’m pretty,” it comes out before you can even really think about it, but the words hang heavily in the air.

“Huh?”

“You’re never nice to me, so if you want me to even consider letting you cum, you better start kissing up.”

He hesitates, but when you shift slightly and the blunt head of the toy rubs against his prostate, he changes his tune very quickly.

“Fuck- you’re cute, ‘s the reason why I’m mean to you. So cute when you’re about to cry-” you give him a particularly hard slap on his ass and he winces, muttering a quick apology.

“You’re pretty even when I’m not fucking you, too,” is all you get, but it’s the first genuine compliment you’ve gotten out of the asshole since you’ve met him, and your heart soars. He’s awful and mean and evil but the simple statement is enough for you.

“I’ll let you cum if you beg for it,” you grunt, rutting your hips enthusiastically. You’re close, but you refuse to finish first. He’s needy, thanks to being edged twice, and he’s unable to resist your promise.

“Please, fuck, please let me cum,” he whimpers, voice wet and eyes watery.

“Please what?”

“Mommy! Fuck, please mommy, just let me cum, it hurts, fuck, please,” he babbles, and it’s enough for you. You wrap your hand around his cock and stroke it firmly, hips speeding up as you chase your own release. It’s quick- he finishes almost embarrassingly fast, and the whorish wail that rips from his throat sends you right over the edge, your vision blurring at the corners as you stay trained on his face, obscene and submissive.

It’s quiet after you stop, both of you catching your breath. You pull out slowly, watching the way his hole flutters and you giggle, your body and ego fully satiated. You look back to his face; he looks more fucked out than you’ve ever seen him, almost like he’s about to fall back asleep.

“Can we call it a truce?” You break the silence, grinning as he cracks open an eye to give you a scalding look.

“Fuck. You.”

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

The Cafe Pt.2 (Rewritten Barista)

OMG I’m back with the shitty Kamilah fanfiction! I haven’t written for a while - let alone for this series since I took a writing hiatus to focus on my classes so hopefully there aren’t any plot holes and the fic doesn’t suck ass. I’m slowly getting back into my writing but I still have finals (Up until next April 28) but after finals I will be writing more consistently and will finish my current series and WIPs (I will post my WIPs list soon so I can hold myself accountable and also keep track of what I need to work on).

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy)

Word Count: 3682 words (I am trying to write longer fics but I prefer quality > length so I will post when the chapter feel right however I aim for this series chapters to be between 3500-4500 words each) 

Taglist: (I know it’s been a while so if you’d like to be removed from the taglist just let me know - I promise it won’t hurt my feelings that being said if you’d like to be added to the taglist for just this series, my Kamilah x MC taglist or my perma tag - please let me know I’ll be happy to add you if I remember to even tag) @samanthadalton @beautifulandorganized @cloud9in @kwaj115 @hellyeah90sbaby @shows-simp-card @witchesplayatnight

Part I

“It’s...sweet and comforting,” her voice was soft as she spoke, Amy’s cheeks turning very red, “like you.” 

Amy felt on cloud nine, her eyes glued to Kamilah as she watched her walk to her car and speed away like some rich movie character. Amy closed her eyes, replaying the entire scene over and over until the soft jingle of the bell startled her. Zig walked in, his shoulders drooped low as he carried a large duffel bag in his hand as his backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You look like shit Zig.” Amy jested before walking to him and taking the duffel bag from him, both of them laughing lightly.

“I guess the tides have changed since we went to Hartfeld yeah?” Amy snickered at Zig’s comment, recalling the time she and her friends had gotten so wasted they streaked through the quad only to be caught by the dean on their way back.

“I assume you’re leaving after your shift?” Amy placed his bag down and tossed him his apron, both of them moving to the front counter as Zig examined the cafe. 

“Yeah, we aren’t technically leaving until tomorrow morning but Kaitlyn wanted to run over some of the more technical things with us. I could probably convince them to let you come, you’d definitely spice things up.” Zig waved his hands in the air and stuck his tongue out as Amy tried to glare at him, before breaking into laughter. 

“And who would watch the cafe? The pigeons? Lily?” 

“You’re right, I still feel bad about leaving on such short notice-”

“I’ve got this Zig, trust.” Amy held her head proud as Zig rolled his eyes, making sure Amy saw him. “Jerk.” She nudged his shoulder as a tall handsome man walked in, it took Amy and Zig a moment to realize who he was as he adjusted his tie. 

“Adrian Raines? CEO of Raine’s corporations?” Zig’s head perked up as he approached the register, his suit was a steel grey, his hair a dark brown that resembled a fresh cup of coffee and his smile was so comforting and infectious Amy couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“You must be Zig,” Adrian reached a hand forward, his teeth were so perfect, so straight and white he could have been in a toothpaste commercial, “and you must be Amy. Kamilah recommended this place. More specifically she recommended your special coffee. I had to come see for myself - she said if she had ordered one for me, it wouldn’t have made it to my office.” His voice was soothing, comforting and satisfying - Amy wanted him to read a bedtime story to her.

Amy’s eyes widened as she felt butterflies in her stomach, her palms growing sweaty as she smiled back at Adrian, his deep brown eyes very similar to Kamilah’s without the intensity. Zig gently tapped her shoulder, nodding towards the coffee machine as he rang Adrian’s drink up.

“Oh! Right!” Amy hustled, she was excited that she had two major CEOs trying her special coffee, it was a subtle flex that she found satisfaction in. She leaned back on the counter as the coffee slowly spilled out of the brewer, the strong smell prompting Adrian to turn for a moment before continuing the conversation with Zig. Amy took a moment to take him in, after all, not everyone gets to be within such a close proximity to a major CEO. Amy hadn’t noticed how muscular he was, his posture was so irritatingly straight, his hands were smaller than she expected and she tried not to laugh upon that discovery. His hair was slickly combed back, and his eyelashes were longer than Amy’s and his body complex was just muscular enough to be seen through the curves of his suit but not so muscular as to resemble Dwayne Johnson. 

“This is a solid set up you’ve got for yourself Zig, you should be proud.” Adrian adjusted his tie to be straighter as Zig rolled his shoulders back with a proud smile on his face.

“It took a lot of work but it’s...something I have wanted since college. I’m sure you understand that feeling since you do run one of the leading technology companies in the world, not even just the United States.” Zig folded his hands into his arms as Adrian turned with a soft gaze, a twinkle in his eyes that Amy couldn’t quite put a pin on.

“Well I’ve had years to grow and create a base for myself, with the connections I have in other industries it was really only a matter of money and finding the right people to work with me.” 

“How long did it take you?” Amy finished his coffee off with a generous serving of caramel and stirred it gently as Adrian blinked at her. 

“A long time, I’m much older than I look.” He laughed and Amy couldn’t help but question why he was so vague, he was only 28 years old according to google. 

“You don’t look a day over 22.” Zig interjected as Adrian and Amy held each other’s gaze, Amy couldn’t help but question his eyes, there was something he wasn’t letting on and she could feel it in her stomach. She handed him the coffee and watched his expression change as the warm liquid met his lips. 

“I can see why Kamilah was so intrigued, this has to be one of the best drinks I’ve ever had.” Adrian’s phone rang with drumming that sounded like it was from a revolutionary war movie. 

“Strange ringtone.” Amy remarked prompting Adrian to smile and shake his head. 

“I love the revolutionary war, the fight for freedom will always be an admirable one.” He smiled at Amy before turning to Zig, “I need to head back to my office but I’ll be sure to invest in this cafe of yours, and for you Amy. Thank you.” He reached into his pocket and handed Amy what appeared to be $300. 

“No wait it was just a cup of coffee!” Amy tried to shove the money back into his hand but Adrian had already dashed out of the door, leaving Zig stunned with a smile and Amy baffled. “What the fuck. I will never understand rich people Zig.” 

“I mean hey, it’s a good tip and you need the money Amy. Now, about you watching the cafe, are you really sure you can handle it alone? It’s a tall order.” Zig furrowed his brows as he scanned the empty cafe, his hand reassuringly placed on Amy’s shoulder. 

“It would actually be a venti order, but I’m sure. You need a break buddy, I can see it in your eyes and you should be there for Kaitlyn and her band.” Amy placed her hand over Zig’s as two women walked through the cafe doors. 

“Alright then, now let’s finish the day.” Zig returned to the register as Amy began fixing the women’s orders. 

The day passed by slower than usual, Amy kept replaying her interactions with Adrian over in her mind, with Kamilah’s earlier remark fading as Amy questioned Adrian’s shadiness. 

“That could not have gone by slower.” Zig let out a long sigh and Amy watched the tension leave his broad shoulders as he locked the front door. “After today I don’t have any more doubts about that trip, I need a break.” 

“That’s all I’ve been saying dumbass, go on. You need to pack and I can clean up here tonight.” Amy joked as Zig looked around nervously.

“Amy this place is a mess, we were so much busier. I can’t leave you to do this by yourself.” Zig reached for the disinfectant wipes as Amy smacked his hand. 

“Get out of here and go pack or you’re straight.” Amy wiggled her brows at Zig who took a step back. 

“Oh fuck off. All the tips from today are yours though. You take all the tips or you’re a vampire lover.” Zig winked at Amy who rolled her eyes and pointed towards the door. Zig stopped and patted her shoulder on his way out. 

“Thank you so much Amy. I’m glad you’re working here and I’m glad we were able to reconnect.” Zig and Amy shared a nod in silence before Zig left the messy cafe to Amy. 

“Now it’s just me I guess. Time to play some music.” Amy smiled and pulled her speaker out of her backpack, putting “Sit Next to Me” by Foster the People on and showly shaking her torso to the beat. She held the broom in her hands and started sweeping to the beat of the song, her head shaking to the rhythm as she sang her heart out. She finished sweeping the floor and began washing the blenders and wiping down the counters, stopping every five minutes to dance to the chorus of whatever upbeat song was playing. 

“She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She’s cheer captain and I’m-” Amy swung her hips around, the washcloth in her hands flying through the air as she swayed her head back and forth like a teenage girl. 

“On the bleachers, dreaming bout the day when you wake up and find that what you’re looking for has been here the whole time.” 

Amy froze like a deer in headlights as she turned to see where the voice came from - Kamilah was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and a very amused look on her face as Amy slowly lowered her arms in embarrassment. 

“How much of that did you see?” 

“Oh no don’t let me interrupt you, please keep going.” Kamilah smirked and Amy felt a rush of adrenaline run through her. Instead of stopping and apologizing, she found herself hitting the play button and continued singing and dancing like Kamilah wasn’t even there.

“If you could see that I’m the one who understands you! Been here all along so why can’t you seeeeeeee, you belong with meeeee!”

“Standing by and waiting at your backdoor, all this time how could you not know babyyyy? You belong with meeee.” Amy blinked as Kamilah sang with her, the woman's voice was stunning and left Amy speechless as their eyes met in the dim cafe lighting. The way Kamilah’s voice sounded in combination with the low and heated gaze she had on Amy, it felt like she was just reading her thoughts out loud. In a flash Kamilah was standing in front of Amy, their bodies so close Amy could feel the woman’s warmth and smell her sweet scent as the music faded and Amy lost herself in Kamilah’s brown eyes. 

“You belong with me. Have you ever thought...just...maybe...” Kamilah’s voice slowed from a singing tone to a low whisper, she leaned close as the song came to its end, Amy couldn’t help but sing back to her. 

“You belong with me?” She knew it came out shakily, the subtle smirk on Kamilah’s face said it all as they stayed locked in the moment. Amy knew they weren’t just singing to Taylor Swift’s new album, it was unspoken words between the two of them that neither had the courage to previously say. Amy felt her heart speed up, her palms growing sweaty as she waited to see if Kamilah would sing back to her or not. 

“You belong with me.” Kamilah leaned forward to kiss Amy, both of their eyes fluttering shut as the music stopped and time came to a slow. Amy wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders as their lips almost met, before Amy’s ringtone blared from her backpack causing Kamilah and Amy to jolt apart. 

Amy rushed over to check the call, scanning the screen and reading Lily’s name made her less annoyed that her almost kiss was interrupted, but still not happy. 

“Hey Lil what’s up? Oh yeah, I’m sorry I let Zig get out early so he could pack so I’m not gonna be home til late tonight. I’m so sorry. Yeah. Oh that’s good, I’m glad! You can def tell me about it later. Yeah? Oh yes I gotcha, I’ll venmo you for the rent once I hang up. Yeah okay goodnight Lil.” 

Amy hung up the phone and opened her venmo, sending Lily the $550 for rent, completely ignoring the fact Kamilah had made her way close to her again. As soon as she put her phone back in her bag, Kamilah turned her back around to face her, the woman’s eyes sparkling in the soft lighting that surrounded them. 

“Kamilah, how did you get in here? We’re technically closed and Zig-” Amy was silenced by Kamilah dangling what appeared to be a copy of the cafe key. 

“I helped Zig fund this cafe, I can come and go as I please, I just prefer to make his life easy and stay out of his way. He said you might’ve needed help cleaning up tonight since you let him go, so I came to help you clean, but instead I found you giving a world tour with no audience.” 

Amy felt a blush crawl up her face, her heart pounding so loudly it rang in her ears as she felt Kamilah’s hand on her arm. She pulled her eyes away from Kamilah’s, unsure of if it was because she was embarrassed, scared, flustered or a combination of all three. Kamilah gently placed her index finger under the girl’s chin, softly pulling her to meet her gaze as she spoke slowly.

“You don’t have to kiss me Amy,” her voice was comforting and lacked the iciness it usually carried, “just say the word and I won’t come to the cafe while you’re here alone.” 

“Kamilah...I...it’s not that...it’s just...” Amy stuttered but leaned forward, unable to reach Kamilah’s lips because of her height. Kamilah leaned down, tracing her index finger over Amy’s throat as their lips softly met. Kamilah slowly took Amy’s lower lip in her mouth, sucking on it and prompting a soft moan to escape Amy’s mouth as she draped herself into Kamilah’s arms. Minutes passed by as their mouths remained locked together, only pulling apart so they could finish cleaning. 

“Come on Amy, let’s get this place clean so you can get home.” Kamilah picked up the roll of paper towels and began drying the blenders and stacking them neatly to Amy’s surprise. Kamilah was a powerhouse, which was something Amy had expected from her since she radiated power like a goddess, but it was her ability to clean so damn thoroughly that confused Amy. 

“Kamilah?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to sound rude or anything but-”

“How did I learn to clean so well for an extremely rich person?” 

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t always this wealthy, and I still prefer to clean my own penthouse since there’s certain ways I like my things placed and kept. The safest hands are our own and I like to be self reliant. Cleaning also makes me feel quite liberated and I keep valuable artifacts in my home that I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting anyone else touch.”

“Oh, that makes a lot of sense. Thank you.” Amy spoke softly as she wiped the last chair down and stacked it. She turned as Kamilah slid her blazer back on and leaned against the door. Amy slung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed the leftover pastries from the counter but stopped on her way out as she noticed Kamilah waiting for her by the door. 

“You don’t have to walk me home Kamilah.” 

“It’s 1 am in New York. I wouldn’t let anyone walk home alone at this time, besides it’s safer and I don’t think Zig would forgive me if something happened to you.” Kamilah lowered her voice to a faint whisper that Amy could barely make out. “And I couldn’t forgive myself if I let something happen to you either.”

Amy felt sparks up her body as she let Kamilah hold the cafe door open for her, before they both turned to lock it. 

“Well I’ll let you do that since you’re running this place for the next week.” Kamilah took a step back as Amy shakily locked the cafe up, letting out a relieved sigh. She started walking and felt comforted knowing Kamilah was with her, because she didn’t want to walk home alone in the dark despite her earlier remarks. They walked in silence, Kamilah staying close to Amy as they passed by the food bank, Amy tensing as she passed by the same alley that had haunted her ever since she saw glowing eyes that one time. She hastily made her way into the food bank, dropping the bag off with the receptionist and hurrying out the door to get back before anything else could freak her out. 

“Kamilah, how do you know Adrian?” Amy asked as they walked away from the food bank towards Amy’s apartment. 

“I handle Raines Corporations finances. Raines Corporation does all of their financing through Ahmanet Financial and so we’re good business partners but we found good friendship through the years.” There was something suspicious about the way Kamilah spoke, it gave Amy the same feeling when Adrian was asked about her age but she just could not put a pin on why she had this feeling. “Amy? Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah sorry, my mind went off on a tangent.” Amy stopped at the front of her apartment building, she turned to face Kamilah who basically glowed in the dark. The moonlight illuminated her features, her brown eyes shining brightly and her hair shimmering as Amy felt her breath catch in her throat. “Thanks for walking me home..not that I can’t handle myself but-”

“Of course Amy. See you tomorrow.” Kamilah smiled softly, placing a gentle kiss on Amy’s cheek before turning and disappearing into the streets, Amy sighing as she walked through the lobby, getting in the elevator and finally arriving at her apartment door. 

“Hey Amy, how was work?” Lily sat up from the couch, putting her PS4 game on pause as Amy collapsed on the couch next to her. 

“It was alright, I let Zig leave early so he could pack and I was cleaning and totally jamming out and Kamilah saw me but she joined me and we kissed…” Amy giggled as Lily squealed in excitement.

“OHMYGODD what was it like?” Lily perked up like a child ready for a bedtime story, her hands shaking as she waited for Amy to explain.

“Electric. God Lily I don’t even have words for it. My head was spinning and the world just fell away.” Amy swayed back and forth as Lily hugged her. 

“Well maybe you’ll have a date with her soon. Oh, I made beignets tonight, they’re on the counter! Let me get you some!” Lily stood up and rushed away, returning quickly with a beautiful plate of freshly made beignets covered in powdered sugar. 

“I swear you’re the best suitemate ever. Absolutely unparalleled.” Amy bit into one of the sweets, savoring the softness and sweetness of the perfect sweet treat. “God Lily this has to be your best recipe yet!” 

“Girllll no way, I saw this recipe for key lime pie that I’m dying to try this week.” Lily exclaimed as she pulled up the recipe on her phone, Amy taking another beignet from the plate. 

“You should go to a baking school or something Lily. Maybe open a bakery?” Amy suggested as Lily passionately explained the process of baking her favorite desserts. “Maybe you could bake for the cafe?”

“Nah, this is a hobby. I want to finalize my website for my computer business this week. But that’s a nice suggestion.” Lily stifled a yawn at the same time Amy did, both of them laughing at each other. 

“Damn so we’re both two tired dumbasses. It’s 3 am...we should get some sleep.” Lily suggested as Amy realized she’d only be getting a few hours of sleep. 

“You’re right. Do we have any energy drinks in the fridge though? I’m gonna need one before work.” 

“Yeah I bought more redbull and monster so you can take your pick, but I’m gonna crash harder than windows so g’night Amy.” Lily shuffled to her room as Amy did the same - collapsing in her bed and savoring the few hours of sleep she was going to get. 

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

Amy arrived at the cafe 20 minutes before opening time, her bag in one hand and a redbull in the other as she unlocked the cafe. She put her bag down and started the opening process, the redbull slowly kicking in as the time passed by quickly. Just as she finished counting in on the register, the door jingled open and Kamilah stepped through the cafe doors. 

“Good morning Amy.” She smiled at her with those perfectly straight teeth and that damn irresistible smile. 

“Good morning Kamilah, here’s your coffee. Both ways.” Amy handed the cups to Kamilah, their fingers gently brushing during the exchange.  

“Amy...about last night…” Kamilah spoke softly, gently, in a sweet voice that Amy never expected from her. 

“Oh...did...you want to forget it?” Amy’s heart dropped, a deep pain forming in her stomach as she awaited Kamilah’s response. 

“No. I...I enjoyed it a lot.” Kamilah’s tone changed from sweet and confident to a shy and lower voice - was she flustered? 

“So did I...maybe...well if you have time tonight maybe we can do it again?” Amy suggested as she wiped the counter down. 

“I’ll be here.” Kamilah smiled, their eyes meeting for a moment before the jingling of the door interrupted their moment. “See you later Amy.” Kamilah waved as she left the cafe. 

The day passed by achingly slow, but eventually after several strange tik tok orders, a bunch of big wall street assholes and a few sweet customers the cafe was ready to close. Amy began cleaning the cafe, starting with just wiping the blenders clean as the door jingled, Amy turned and expected to see Kamilah - but it wasn’t Kamilah in the doorway. 

[mmmleckerlecker]

I was reading the questions you've answered, and I'm curious now: you said that the co-existence between preds and prey is very recently. So I was thinking the HP world from years ago, when pred could snatch up whoever prey they wanted... How was the society in that time? How did they live? (Headcanon: prey lived underground?) Did the preds have no qualms in consuming whoever they could find? (prey children/teens or the elderly, for example?)... The harmony was founded by a prey or pred? (1/2)

What was the reason for the preds to make the jump from consuming indiscriminately to the public/private contracted prey? (another headcanon: preykind severely disminishing in numbers?) I find your worldbuilding so enchanting, I'm sorry for the avalanche of questions. You're awesome! (2/2)

AHHHH YES!!! THE QUESTION I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR!!! No need to apologize!!! I have considered making a post about stuff like this for awhile now but I’m always like “do people REALLY wanna hear all that?” But now i have the perfect excuse. Thank you, anon! You’re awesome too!! (WARNING this kinda turned into a chapter length read. So I hope y’all like to read history about fictional worlds.)

Okay so. This is all stuff I’ve sorta kept in my head and have built upon when I’ve had ideas, so sorry if there are some gaps currently haha.

So I imagine preds and prey started trying to “make peace” about five centuries ago but didn’t start living in true “harmony” until about two hundred years ago. And I use the term “harmony” loosely because clearly there’s still a lot of infighting happening. Before that, the preds and prey lived in two entirely separate cultures. The prey lived in larger, more stationary groups while the preds lived in much smaller, more nomadic groups. They also DEFINITELY didn’t speak the same language.

So for preds, the groups they would live in were more like traveling pods that consisted of maybe 1-3 families living/working together. Having groups of preds getting too large was… not sustainable. It would create too much competition for food. So each group would usually give other groups of preds a wide berth. Granted there were definitely still spats for territory, especially if said territory had a good supply of prey available.

Prey, much like in modern times, were never really the preds’ main food source, however. Preds would still hunt and gather like normal. It would usually take some organizing to get a raid together on a prey village (or a pred could just get lucky and stumble across one that wandered off alone). Consuming prey all the time was just too much effort. They weren’t a practical food source nor a completely sustainable one if they were over-predated. Also! Keep in mind, the more a pred consumes, the more their body acclimates to handling such a large meal. It would be better for the preds to consume every once in awhile and have their prey take longer to digest (hence, keeping them fueled longer) than to consume ALL THE TIME and risk addiction. I think consuming would probably become more regular in the cold months too, when it was harder for preds to find other food sources.

As for WHO the preds would consume? Definitely adults would make for the best meals. Children? Well, I imagine prey would be very protective of their children, first of all, making them difficult to obtain. But also they would just make… not as filling meals? Also prey children are mostly the same size as pred children so there might be that little hesitation there on the pred’s end as they’re reminded of their own kind. I guess if the pred is desperate? There’s always gonna be a time and place for special circumstances. As for the elderly… I imagine they also live in places that are harder for preds to get to. I also think if a prey managed to live that long, they would have a trick or two up their sleeve. But like I said, there’s always a possibility for things to happen.

Now for how prey live…. Like I said, they live in larger groups. There is safety in numbers, after all. These groups were basically villages, sometimes even cities where prey could really know their territory and set up defenses against any invading preds. (An underground dwelling is really cool idea tho! I also believe that prey evolved to be able to fold themselves up and be comfortable/feel safe in tight spaces that preds could never reach them in, so prey living in like a cave system might actually work really well!) Like it’s been stated in the story, prey tend to have a lot more children than preds for “just in case.” This could cause their towns to become rather large and populous sometimes.

Prey, also unlike preds, usually tried to keep in contact with neighboring towns/villages/cities. This was one of the key factors for what made it possible for the shift to both sides living in harmony to happen. Since the prey lived in settlements and kept in contact with other prey settlements, it allowed for a certain development of culture as well as the sharing and recording of knowledge that preds… just didn’t have. Prey were able to develop things like farming and running water. They could study math and science and share their knowledge in libraries and schools. They were really on their way to becoming an advanced society, they just had one big (both figurative and literal) problem holding them back. They constantly had preds attacking and killing off their people.

Despite their efforts to fight them off, the prey just weren’t winning. So they decided, if a war against preds wasn’t going to get them anywhere, then why not make peace? The first step for this was the prey learning the preds’ language. This was… dangerous, of course. But it was done enough that the prey were able to open conversation with preds. Just this move alone caused a huge shift between both sides. What are you supposed to do when your food, which for centuries has only babbled nonsense at you before you swallowed it down, suddenly starts speaking to you like an equal? It certainly gave preds pause, but not enough to stop consuming. Not that the prey didn’t expect this. They approached the preds with more than just a common language. Their first big move was offering them food. And not just any food, but GOOD FOOD. Cooked food, decadent food, spiced foods, foods that preds didn’t have the resources (nor the patience) to prepare.

Sharing food took… probably a little more effort than one might expect. Prey and preds view food fundamentally different. To prey, it’s sustenance but also something to enjoy and connect with. To preds, it’s simply something to stop hunger. There was a sort of learning curve for preds to actually learn to ENJOY food for its flavor, but once they got it… OH BOY!!! A door was opened! Because despite LIKING prey food, the preds weren’t always so good at preparing it, so it gave the prey something they could exchange for safety. (This is also something that persists into modern times. Preds are still often stereotyped as not having very refined palates and not being very good at preparing food. This is referenced a little in Heart Pangs itself as well as the one-shot I posted last week!) Once the food trade became established, it opened up relations enough to exchange other things!

The prey shared would they could with the preds in exchange for their own survival. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes it SEEMED to work but then the preds turned on them and things went downhill very quickly. But the prey had the advantage of sheer numbers and determination on their side (that and if they didn’t keep pushing they would literally be eaten alive). It took generations of negotiations, but the preds and prey eventually came to a sort of truce, though consuming never stopped entirely.

The preds weren’t stupid, they saw the prey had a lot of good stuff to offer them. At first they took what they needed and went their separate ways, but as they gained more trust from the prey, the preds encroached more and more into their territories until both sides were more or less neighbors. There were some advantages to this. If both sides cooperated enough, they were able to make further advances as civilized societies. But there were also disadvantages… like the fact that the preds were always bigger and the prey were always making sure not to anger them so it became very easy for the preds to take whatever they wanted and leave the prey with less than they deserved.

The prey even began to lose their own language as most of the preds couldn’t be bothered to learn the prey’s language (although a lot of prey terms for food and science stuck around). The preds stopped being the enemy who lived outside the prey’s walls and suddenly became the bully who lived next door. Yes, technically the prey were a little safer than before, but the advantages they once held over the preds were slipping away as the preds claimed more and more of what the prey had until the preds were able to start developing their OWN advantages.

For a long time, the preds and prey operated as two different societies that lived in one space, meaning each group had their own leaders and their own laws. But as things began getting more and more strained between each side (as they tend to do when two natural enemies live side-by-side), the prey (once more) tried to make peace. They made the bold move of reaching out to the pred leaders in an attempt to work together and function as a singular society (although both sides more or less continued to live as two societies, just under the rule of one government). The preds were surprisingly open to this change, which was a relief to the prey… at first. But then it became clear that this was mostly just a power grab for the preds to acquire more status and wealth and power amongst the prey.

Besides the fact that a lot of prey were falling into poverty because of this, the most glaring issue was that the “unification” had made it even easier for a lot of preds to break the peace and consume prey with barely any consequences. This caused a lot of prey to flee and seek out safer, more remote places to live. Eventually it got to the point where the prey leaders threatened to break away from pred society completely. The preds didn’t like this, though, as they’d gotten very used to having prey within easy reach. They also knew that losing half the people in their society would cause a lot of problems in terms of keeping everything running smoothly. However, the preds very much did not want to give up consuming entirely. It was in their nature after all, they argued.

So after A LOT of negotiations, both sides came to a compromise. The preds would actually start enforcing consuming as something illegal UNLESS the prey being consumed had agreed to it beforehand. Obviously the prey leaders couldn’t see any prey ever AGREEING to being consumed, so they settled on the compromise thinking that was the end of it. This was the true beginning of the “harmony” between preds and prey, but of course, the preds always have something up their sleeves.

Rich preds began offering up money and food and shelter to all those desperate prey in poverty. Those prey could get everything they could ever want for, the only payment was their lives ending in said pred’s gut (after a specified amount of time). These ventures started slow, but once they started to catch on, BOY DID THEY CATCH ON. The desperate prey began hearing about certain preds who were practically giving away wealth, all it took was a signature written in (figurative) blood. Meanwhile preds began hearing about other preds who had found a loophole in the consuming law and wanted in on the action. Like any good entrepreneur, the preds turned their contracts into a business and started selling them to other preds.

The prey leaders, of course, despised this, but what could they do? It all aligned with the compromise they had made. The only thing they could do was stand by and help come up with regulations for this new practice. So they did. Over the decades, the contracting businesses grew to what they are today (large corporate monsters… although the smaller, more private contracts still exist) as well as became the core to keeping the peace. Even the government itself offers contracting services now.

Society has shifted considerably in the years since harmony was reached. The two sides have mostly learned to live with each other. Prey have fought viciously to be treated as equals while a lot of preds go their whole lives without consuming (particularly fatally) even once. And, as you know, the development of neutralizers allowed preds to experience consuming without having to hurt anyone. A lot of progress has been made, but a lot of progress still needs to happen.

And I think that pretty much catches us up to the setting of Heart Pangs (whew)! I keep thinking it would be really cool to write a story that takes places in an earlier time period to further explore how different the relations between preds and prey would be, but I have yet to come up with a plot haha. Maybe someday. I’m sure an idea will come to me at a proper time. Anydays, thank you for your interest! It was really nice to be able to (finally) type all this up somewhere!!

[whenimaunicorn]

Playing House - Part 7.1

This one's a little short and a little subtle, but I thought I'd whet your appetite for more mayhem this week. Going for a weekly update schedule on Tuesdays for as long as I can keep it up!!

There is a small time jump here; it’s been a few days since the last chapter. 

Catch up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Ivar has really nice knives. You’ve never seen him cook, not since you moved in and not before, but you know the set of expensive Messermeister knives in the grey canvas case belong to him. They are just a dream to use, better than anything that you could afford.

You know that the knives belong to him because he gave you very explicit instructions for their care. “No one else is allowed to touch them,” he told you during the first week after you moved in, running his fingers down the longest blade as he showed them to you, “but I will allow you that privilege if you follow all my rules.”

There’s a problem today. His breath hitches when he opens the case; your body stills. “Y/N, what is this?”

You inch forward, peering over his shoulder with apprehension. His fingernail is tapping at the wide blade of the chef’s knife.

“Did you dry these with a cloth, right after you cleaned them?”

There are a few translucent white circles marring the blade, the kind that are sometimes left behind after water evaporates.

“I—” your throat is suddenly dry. “I must not have.”

“Evidently not.” He turns the knife around, offering you the handle with a significant look. “Wash it again.”

He doesn’t seem angry, and the tingling in your body is not exactly anxiety. “Of course.” His eyes linger on yours, even after you look down to carefully take the exquisitely-crafted tool from his hand.

You turn to the sink, listening to Ivar gather his ingredients behind you. This morning he had surprised you with a long, very detailed shopping list for what is apparently his signature pasta sauce. Details as in brand names, and specifying the amounts down to the ounces. You have never seen the boy cook before, but today you’re learning why he would even own expensive knives.

I cook, he had said almost defensively as you teased him about the uncharacteristic request. But do you think that animals like my brothers deserve to enjoy my skills?

Your cheeks warm now as you contemplate that statement. It meant that he considers you to be worth cooking for tonight, doesn’t it? You rub soap on the knife carefully from the back edge and glance over at him.

Ivar is inspecting the fresh herbs you bought. You hold your breath, but he gives them a little nod and moves on to the onion and garlic. You dry the knife and bring it to him.

“Good girl.”

Even just those simple words have your body thrumming. He’s not a dick about it, he just likes things his certain way, and that submissive streak in your soul is just loving every opportunity for Ivar to keep telling you what to do.

He sets the knife down, then holds out his hand. “Give me that towel.”

He folds it twice and lays it on the table in front of him. He pulls a tool from the bag that looks like a round little sword. “Oh,” you say, “does it need to be sharpened?”

“This is not for sharpening,” Ivar says, his voice cool and still, like he’s preparing a ritual. “This is a honing steel.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a common mistake. But we don’t want to sharpen a knife too often. Sharpening removes some of the metal. This,” he says, setting the tip of the steel against the towel and holding the hilt up vertically with his left hand, “is for honing.” He lifts the knife in his right hand and sets it at a close angle against the steel. His fist grips the hilt of the steel firmly, while his fingers curl more loosely, elegantly around the handle of his knife. He draws it down the length of the steel in a firm, deliberate movement. “Honing merely aligns the sharp edge of the blade, so it doesn’t blunt itself by curling to one side.” The blade crosses to the other side, sliding down in another brisk line. He builds a rhythm, every movement deft, controlled, and faster than you would have felt safe moving that blade around. “There.” He admires the edge with a satisfied nod. “Bring me the teak cutting board, from the bottom of the pantry.”

You didn’t even know they had a “teak cutting board.” You and Ubbe have been using a scarred plastic one that looks ready to crack in half at any moment.

You find the board wrapped up in the back; when you pull it out you want to cry. The rich shades of amber and honey in the woodgrain are just gorgeous. “Why do you have such beautiful things?” you say softly as you set it down in front of him.

“I like beautiful things.” He catches your eye, and there’s no way he’s not including you in the sentiment.

You smile and look away, smoothing your hands down your skirt just to give yourself something to do. Your movement draws his gaze, and a thick, satisfied look suffuses his eyes as he admires your outfit. Inspired by your little domestic 1950’s housewife fantasy, you’d bought yourself a vintage dress, royal blue, complete with full, knee-length skirt, fitted waist, and sweetheart neckline. Now that that fantasy seems to be coming true, you couldn’t resist putting it on today, even if your only plans consisted of staying home and cooking with Ivar.

He drags the knife across the steel a few more times.

“How do you know it’s sharp enough?”

He flashes you a grin, the one with the sadistic edge that makes your knees a little weak. “There is one test,” he lifts the knife in his competent grip, “to see if it can shave an arm hair . . . hold still.”

His eye glitter as you take a step back from him, sucking your arms up tight against your ribcage. Even though the idea of Ivar holding cold steel against your body is making your heartbeat quicken, a little warmth gathering between your legs.

He cocks his head, don’t you trust me written all over his smirk. He savors your discomfort for a moment, before speaking again. “Or, we slice a piece of paper.” He takes a flyer off his stack of mail on the table, something unimportant with Act Now! in big block letters at the bottom. Grasping it at the top between two fingers, he lifts the knife and slashes down quickly through the vertically-suspended page.

It slices neatly in two, the outer edge fluttering down to the floor in front of him. “Wow, that is sharp.” You wanted to say something infinitely cooler, but how exactly do you tell someone “your knife skills are turning me on right now?”

Ivar frowns at the lower portion of the 9-inch blade. “I felt a catch toward the bottom.” He turns back to the honing steel and rasps a few more precise passes.

He may be pretending this is still a normal conversation about sharpening, but there’s a darkness in his eyes when he looks up at you again. He tips his head dramatically to the side, looking you up and down until your cheeks start to heat up.

“Seeing something that you like?”

You stammer out two answers at once, so the sounds you actually make are non-sensical.

“Do not forget that I can tell when you are turned on.”

You finally notice your mouth hanging open, and you close it.

He inspects the blade’s edge with an unnecessary flourish. “You into knives?” he asks casually. His predator’s eyes watch carefully from under heavy brows as you flail about for an answer.

“Mmm,” you say, completely uninformatively. “Um, you mean like, sexually?”

Ivar nods slowly, as confident as you are flustered.

“There is something—something about it,” you babble, trying to push through your embarrassment well enough to be honest, “but not like… I’m not saying I want to get cut up right now.”

Ivar’s mouth makes a soothing sort of sound, his gorgeous lips puckering up. “Of course not. But there’s something about—” he hefts the knife in his hand, “—the threat inherent in a dangerous object, isn’t there. Even though I’m not even threatening you with it right now.”

You gulp. “Yes.”

His head is waggling, eyes narrowed over his smile. “Come here.”

It’s simultaneously the best and worst thing he could possibly say to you right now. You want to trust him, but you really have no idea what Ivar Lothbrok will do to you if you come within arm’s reach of him. You make a small sound.

He makes a beckoning gesture.

The heavy knife is resting against the cutting board; when you step toward him Ivar leaves it there and opens his arm to pull you in close. With a hand on your waist he guides you to face the cutting board, your back against his front. The stool he’s sitting on is tall enough that he can still see from behind you, and his arms up come up around either side of your body.

“One more test. I want you to feel this one.” His voice is rich and low, so close to your ear. “Did you know that if the knife is sharp enough, cutting an onion won’t make you cry?”

“No,” You say brightly, through a burst of exhaled air. You’re relieved, although maybe just a little bit disappointed, that the topic of conversation is back to cooking, and not secret dark kinks that you might not even be ready to admit to yourself. Ivar’s body brushes softly against yours as he places an onion at the center of the cutting board and sets the knife against it.

“Here,” he says, wiggling his right hand just a bit. “Take the knife from me. Keep it lined up, but do not cut yet.”

You do as he asks, and his hand ghosts over yours, covering your grip on the handle.

“You barely have to push down. Slide it forward slightly, and the blade should sink right in.”

His guiding hand follows as you do, and the onion comes apart easily.

“Good. Keep going. We want this one finely diced.” He keeps your body pushed forward with the pressure of his from behind. Is he making sure your face is right above the onion, ready to take in all the fumes that usually blind you with tears after the first few slices?

You get the skin off and keep slicing, as instructed. The little approving noises Ivar is making into your ear must mean that your method is correct, so far. And, miraculously, your vision is still clear.

“A dull blade crushes the onion cells, releasing the chemical that makes you cry. A sharp one slices through so cleanly that this barely happens. Are you feeling anything yet?”

“No,” you say. Not from the onion, at least. The way Ivar’s body is wrapped around yours, his breath warm on your neck, has you feeling all kinds of things.

Ivar coos. “Then I’ve done well. And so are you. Even finer, please.”

You pinch the back of the blade between your fingers and chop quickly. Ivar has released your hands, placing his own about your waist instead. When you finish, you set the knife down and he coaxes you to turn around.

He inspects your face. Your eyes had started stinging just a little during that final pass, but no tears have formed. His tongue clucks, softly. “Honestly I’m a little disappointed not to get to see you crying. I think we’ll remedy that later.”

You just about quiver in his arms.

You were supposed to be his sous chef today. I mean, that would only be appropriate given the roles that you two like to assume with each other in every other context. And it is Ivar’s recipe, after all. But once he knows what watching him use a knife does to you, he performs all the rest of the dicing and chopping himself. You’re relegated to walking back and forth across the small kitchen, fetching and washing and lining up the neat little prep bowls as Ivar fills them with each of his ingredients.

He watches you all the while, in between bouts of extreme concentration on his work. He says nothing about your dress but you catch him admiring its twirl as you spin through the kitchen.

Watching him chop the garlic is almost unreal. Ivar’s not one for that garlic press contraption, and clearly he doesn’t need it. He takes a second knife from his collection, one that’s flatter and a little more squared. His slices are just about paper-thin, and he’s minced them and scooped the little pile up on the side of his blade so fast you just have to stop and stare as he does it again for each clove. His hands are large but elegant, their subtle strength readily apparent as he handles the blade with impressive agility.

“Why did you switch knives?”

He tilts the tool in question in his hand. “This is called a santoku. Japanese knives are great for speed, and the fancier skills. But for most tasks I prefer the weight of the chef’s knife. These German-made ones feel so good in the hand.”

“They really do,” you agree. “How did you get so into cooking?”

“Just a hobby I picked up for a while.” His eyes meet yours. “I am enjoying having the excuse to remember my skills again.”

You almost can’t bear to keep looking at his face, his angelic visage just beaming his delight at you. For the second time you flush, and duck your head. You’re definitely not used to Ivar being so . . . direct about his feelings for you.

He saves you from having to respond by issuing his next order. “We are ready to start cooking. Measure a tablespoon of olive oil into the pan, turn the burner on high, and help me get my stool next to the stove.”

He puts the garlic in first, stirring it briskly to, as he explains, suffuse the oil in its flavor. Next come the onions, and there is something about the way his wrist cocks as he keeps everything moving in the pan that’s almost as fascinating as his knife work. His rhythm remains steady as he directs you to add each ingredient, his other hand lightly teasing at your waist, or your hip, or your leg at the bottom edge of your skirt every time you move close to him. He pretends he’s not doing it, but there is mischief behind his eyes. By the time a thick red sauce is filling the wide pan, you’re about ready to skip this dinner and see what other treats he’s got planned for your night in.

The apartment door swings open. Ubbe enters noisily, slamming the door shut behind him. “Smells so good, Y/N! I’m starving, what are you—” He cuts off when he rounds the corner into the kitchen, and sees Ivar sitting by the stove. He takes in the luxury kitchen tools spread out on the table, and you in your housewife dress and your kitten heels. He pulls back just a little, like maybe he’s thinking he shouldn’t intrude. But then he leans one forearm against the wall and grins. “You’re making the sauce, bro?”

Ivar rolls his eyes. “Yes, Ubbe.”

“I can’t fucking wait.” He turns to you, his wolfish eyes bright. “This is gonna be the best spaghetti night you’ve had in your life.”

“It is not spaghetti night,” Ivar says crossly. “We are having gnocchi. Also, I didn’t think you were going to be home.”

Ubbe shrugs. “I don’t have anything going on.”

“Ubbe,” Ivar chides, shaking his head as he speaks. “Don’t you usually have a date lined up just about every night?”

Ubbe is only looking at you. “That just doesn’t seem very interesting anymore.”

Ivar makes a dismissive sound and nudges you. “Time to add in the spices, Y/N.”

You tear your eyes away from Ubbe, and all the things that you might just be imagining are lying behind his eyes. He walks away as you lift the last prep bowl, headed back toward his room. You sprinkle the herb blend over the sauce.

“Now we simmer,” Ivar says, turning the burner down low. “But we must keep stirring.” He slides the spoon quite precisely around the edges of the pan, then spirals it through the middle. “Can you do it this way?”

You take the handle from him and attempt to replicate his practiced movement. After a little adjusting, he leans back with a satisfied sound.

“Keep that up. No more than sixty seconds between stirrings.”

He reaches for his crutches, and you lift a brow in silent question.

“I want a shower before dinner.” He gets to his feet, then leans down to murmur low into your ear. “I am planning a long night after that.”

How can he slay you so well with only a few words?

The corner of his lip is quirked as he shifts his weight back into his crutches. “After ten minutes, start the water boiling for the gnocchi, too.”

Read On

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[crowfootwrites]

A Night on the Town [Rafael Barba x OC]

Mayans MC has been consuming my life recently, so I've mostly been posting SOA/Mayans content, but SVU's Rafael Barba took my fanfic virginity, so I wanted to post another Barba piece.

I am currently working on a very long Barba x OC fanfic (it currently stands at about 50,000 words) but I don't want to post any of it until it's done because I would feel so bad if I never finished it. I wrote this smutty little chapter, but I can't really fit into the larger piece anywhere right now, so I figured I'd post it as a standalone. I'm leaving it as my OC, Dahlia, because that's who I wrote it for.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut (seriously, the whole thing is smut); language; alcohol use; unwanted advances | Words: 3,575

Dahlia picked up the cell phone buzzing on the table and grinned to see the caller ID flashing “Sonny Carisi”.

“Sonny!” she exclaimed as she answered it. Rafael chuckled from the couch. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would actively want to be friends with Sonny, who grated his every last nerve; but to be fair, Dahlia was one of the friendliest people he knew, so he figured it was probably just him that was easily annoyed by Sonny’s overeager personality. He knew that Dahlia didn’t have too many friends in the city, besides her sister, so he was glad that she could talk to Sonny.

“Um, yes!” Dahlia said excitedly. “That sounds so fun!” There was a pause, punctuated by Dahlia’s quiet mhmm’s and yeah’s. Then, “Well, I don’t know if he’ll want to, but I’ll ask.”

Rafael groaned quietly. What was she going to try to rope him into? He’d had a long week and he really wanted nothing more than a calm night on the couch. He heard her put the phone back on the counter. He looked up at her, his eyebrow already quirked as she came around the couch to stand in front of him, hand planted on her hip. She smiled at him sweetly; so sweetly he could practically see the halo around her head. He was in for trouble.

“What?” he asked amusedly.

“Sonny and Amanda are going out to this new bar in Williamsburg, and they asked if we would like to join them,” she told him matter-of-factly.

Rafael sighed. “Mi amor, I’m so tired. It’s been a long week. I definitely think you should go if you want to, but I don’t know if I have it in me,” he said, watching her face for any sign of disappointment. There were none, which was strange. Dahlia was not good at hiding her emotions. One of his favorite things about her was how open she was with her feelings. So, this either meant that she wasn’t disappointed, or that he was about to lose a battle that hadn’t even started. He grimaced at the thought.

Suddenly, Dahlia was climbing over him on the couch, planting her knees and straddling his hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, all of her movements languid, which Rafael knew meant she was feeling some kind of way. She put on a pout and Rafael groaned, knowing he was doomed.

“It’s just so much more fun when we’re together, Rafa,” she whined. Her hips shifted a little in his lap and it immediately sent a jolt to his groin.

“No fair, niñita,” he mumbled, throwing his head back. He ran a cursory hand over her side, coming to rest on her ass.

Dahlia leaned forward so her lips were pressed against his ear. “I was planning on wearing a new dress that I think you’ll like,” she murmured, and Rafael shivered. “And if you come with me, I promise to make it worth your while.” She pulled back a little and when Rafael brought his eyes back down to meet hers, she was wearing a smirk that he desperately wanted to wipe off her face. His eyes flashed intensely, the green seeming brighter than usual, and Dahlia knew she had him. Honestly, she knew she had him before she even sat down, but she also never wanted to underestimate Rafael Barba.

Twenty minutes later, they were in their bedroom, Rafael trying (and mostly failing) to keep his hands off of Dahlia as she got ready. She had been right about the dress, he did like it, very much. It was a short, lemon yellow number, something Dahlia had called “fit & flare”, and in combination with her bright red hair, Rafael knew she’d be attracting all sorts of attention. Not that he minded. Whenever they went out, he thoroughly enjoyed watching other men’s faces after she came to sit on his lap or pulled him in by the lapels for a kiss.

He watched as she pulled on a pair of nude platform wedges and had to physically sit on his hands on the bed to stop himself from running a hand up her legs. She shut herself in the bathroom for a few moments to touch up her makeup. Rafael was, thankfully, still dressed from work, so he didn’t have to change, which would have made this battle a little more difficult for Dahlia. He re-buttoned his navy, pinstripe waistcoat and slipped his shoes back on, still not entirely ready to be back on the town after the day he’d had.

In the cab, Dahlia clung tightly to his arm, and he relished in the warmth coming from her. She was oddly quiet, staring directly ahead with a look of thorough concentration on her face.

“You alright?” he asked her quietly.

She glanced at him, then down at her lap. When she looked back at him again, she was grinning.

“I told you I’d make this worth your while, right?”

Rafael raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Do you trust me?” she asked. Rafael narrowed his eyes but nodded. She held her hand out. “I need to see your phone for a minute.” Rafael’s heart thrummed. Dahlia had never once touched his phone, and he had no idea what she was about to do. Not that he was worried; he had nothing to hide from her. He just didn’t like being confused. He unlocked his phone and handed it to her. She quickly turned away from him, shielding what she was doing with her back. A few moments later, she was handing the phone back, and an app he had never seen was open on his screen.

Rafael stared at it in confusion. He looked back up at Dahlia for clarification, and she was grinning wickedly at him. She glanced up at the cabbie for a moment, then leaned into murmur to Rafael, “This controls the vibrator that I’m wearing tonight.”

Rafael’s face remained mostly controlled, but Dahlia saw the slight flexing of his jaw and she smirked at him again. His eyes flashed hot and she knew she had done well. He glanced down at the phone, then back up at Dahlia, his thumb sliding over the control button in the app. He watched her vigilantly as he pressed down, and a shudder racked through Dahlia, biting down on her lower lip.

Rafael grinned roguishly. “Oh, mi amor, you have definitely made this worthwhile,” he growled.

Dahlia winked at him, then put a hand gently on his arm. “I haven’t used this in public before, so I don’t know how well I’m going to be able to hide it.”

“I won’t overdo it.”

Just then, the cab pulled up outside of the bar, and Rafael helped Dahlia out, a million questions running through his mind. How long has she had this? Has she been sitting on this idea for a while? This is something she actively wants to do? She was handing over complete control to him all night long, in public, and while Dahlia preferred a more submissive role in the bedroom, this seemed to be something of a departure from her preferred turn-ons. Rafael realized the level of trust that she was giving him and he was determined not to take advantage.

The bar was in an old, nondescript building with exposed brick behind peeling paint. A small neon sign and a few small clumps of people smoking outside heralded their arrival, otherwise Rafael might have missed it completely. They made their way inside, and Rafael noted a few heads already turning to glance at Dahlia as they passed. He bit back a grin. Maybe this night would be fun after all.

They found Sonny and Amanda almost immediately, at a cozy table near the back corner of the bar. The inside was one long room, with a bar that ran the length of the building up one side, and booths and tables down the other. The whole place was decorated with bistro lights hung from the ceiling and palm trees scattered all around. It was loud inside, dance music pulsing out of the speakers, and the drone of drunk patrons talking and laughing. Fortunately, it was a little quieter at the table Sonny and Amanda had grabbed, but not by much.

“Dahlia! Barba!” Sonny called in greeting as they approached the table. He and Amanda both rose to hug Dahlia and each shook Rafael’s hand, not daring to touch him more than that. It always amused Dahlia how afraid people seemed to be of Rafael. But if she was being completely honest, it was kind of a turn-on.

When Sonny turned to Amanda to ask her something, Dahlia glanced up at Rafael from the cocktail menu. “Scotch, guapo?” He nodded at her with a smile and she excused herself to the bar. He couldn’t help but stare as she walked away, her hips swaying beneath the swinging of her dress. She leaned forward a little on the bar, trying to track down the bartender, and Rafael exhaled hard at the slight lifting of her hem. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it to stare down at the app. He spied the pulse setting, turned the intensity down, not wanting to startle her too much, then pressed the button.

He watched as Dahlia’s entire body stiffened, her head whirling around the glare at him. But he saw the playful smile on her lips and winked at her. He watched as she turned away, but crossed her legs at the calves, clenching her thighs. He didn’t notice the fascination with which Sonny and Amanda stared at him staring at Dahlia.

By the time Dahlia returned to the table, carrying Rafael’s scotch and her own Aviation, Sonny had pulled Rafael’s attention into a conversation about their most recent case. Dahlia watched as Sonny engaged with Rafael with his usual vigor and friendliness and smiled to herself as Rafael responded shortly and with just a hint of condescension. He was nothing if not consistent, and he was consistently her grouchy, self-assured man. She set his scotch on the table in front of him, then sat, chatting with Amanda about work and how Jesse was doing. Eventually, conversations converged, and Rafael was able to turn his attention back to Dahlia. He gazed at her for a moment, before sliding his hand into his pocket and hitting the button again. Dahlia’s body tensed again and she exhaled hard, dropping her forehead on her palm, elbow propped on the table.

“You ok, doll?” Sonny asked curiously. Amanda turned to look at Dahlia too and Rafael noticed the flush creeping across her cheeks.

She flashed them a smile that was all teeth and choked out, “I’m fine. Just… cramps.”

Rafael bit back a laugh. He slid his hand over to her thigh and gave it a squeeze, thoroughly enjoying watching her squirm. She looked at him and rolled her eyes, before crossing her legs tightly, knees stacked. Rafael watched as she took a deep breath and her muscles finally relaxed. He pressed the button again and observed a very different response from Dahlia this time around. Her eyes blinked heavily and she bit her lower lip, breathing a sigh that only Rafael could hear. She shifted in her seat and gazed at him hungrily. As Sonny held Amanda’s attention in the background, Dahlia picked her phone up off the table and pulled up her texts to Rafael.

DR: Te deseo, Rafa. No se si puedo esperar hasta que llegamos a casa. (I want you, Rafa. I don’t know if I can wait until we get home.)

When the phone buzzed in Rafael’s pocket, he pulled it out to look. He let out a low whistle, impressed with Dahlia’s multitasking capabilities. She had already turned her attention back to the conversation at the table, chatting happily as if she hadn’t just sent a dirty text to her boyfriend who also happened to be getting her all riled up.

He swallowed hard, considering how he wanted to play this. His fingers flew over his phone as he typed out his response.

RB: Well, you’ll just have to, querida. I want you to have plenty of time to think about all the ways I’m going to have you when we get home.

Dahlia glanced down to scan the incoming text and Rafael watched vigilantly as his words sunk in

and she shivered. She turned briefly to make eye contact with him, a sly look on her face. She turned away to face Amanda, declaring, “I love this song!” She grabbed Amanda’s hand and they made their way towards the center of the bar where a throng of bodies had already started gathering as the night wore on. Rafael looked on as Amanda and Dahlia danced carelessly through a few songs, their bodies flush against one another. Seeing the way Dahlia moved, and knowing what she was hiding from everyone but him, turned him on immensely, and he used every ounce of self-control he had to turn his mind away from the fact that he was half-hard.

Sonny turned to glance at Rafael with a laugh. “They look like they’re having a good time,” he chuckled, taking another sip of his beer. Rafael grinned. Dahlia glanced back to their table and winked at him. She looked dazzling to Rafael, her hair and dress shifting colors under the bar lights, her smile wide and radiant. She knew he wouldn’t join her on the dance floor, and so she teased him. Well, he could tease her right back, couldn’t he?

His phone in hand, Rafael turned the setting up one notch and held the control button down for a few long seconds. His eyes followed Dahlia, who had her back pressed against Amanda as they danced, as she bit her lower lip, her eyes fluttering, her hand traveling down as though she might touch herself then and there. Rafael felt another twitch in his pants, imagining her grinding against him that way. Dahlia appeared to suddenly remember where she was and straightened up a little, concealing her movements as dancing. But she shot a playful glare at Rafael, who tipped his head towards her. Dahlia turned towards Amanda and said something in her ear, then Amanda returned to the table as Dahlia headed back to the bar.

“Dahlia’s got this round,” Amanda offered as she slumped breathlessly in her chair. She turned to Rafael and added playfully, “You’ve got your hands full with that one, Barba.”

He smirked at her. “Don’t I know it,” he agreed. His gaze traveled back to Dahlia. She finished speaking to the bartender, who turned away, and Rafael’s eyes narrowed as she was approached by a guy who openly leered at her. He looked to be about Dahlia’s age, in very tight jeans and a fitted flannel shirt. Rafael snorted to himself at the beanie the guy was wearing. He looked like a try-hard, the kind of guy Dahlia could eat alive. Dahlia had turned to face him as he spoke to her and Rafael could see her shaking her head at him, smiling, trying to let him down easy. The guy appeared not to be taking no for an answer, and Rafael felt a flicker of anger lighting inside him. But before he could make a move, Dahlia was waltzing back towards him, holding a few beer bottles by their necks and another glass of scotch in her other hand. The man at the bar appeared to follow her, but Dahlia quickly dropped their drinks on the table, then seated herself in Rafael’s lap, where he immediately wound an arm around her waist protectively. He glared at the man, who scowled and changed course back towards the end of the bar.

Only then did Rafael realize that his turned-on girlfriend was sitting (and doing some almost imperceptible grinding) on his lap. His hand slipped to the hem of her dress as she returned to conversation with Sonny and Amanda as if nothing was amiss. Teasingly, he let his fingers wander along the inside of her thighs. When he reached her center, he clenched his jaw at the damp heat radiating off of her. He hastily withdrew his hand and slammed back the rest of his scotch.

“Amor, I’m sorry, I just remembered that I agreed to prep a motion for O’Dwyer,” he lied effortlessly. “Would it be alright if we head home?”

Dahlia glanced over her shoulder at him, an impish grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Of course, baby,” she cooed. She turned back to Amanda and Sonny, who both studied her skeptically.

“Thank you for the invite, this was so fun!” she exclaimed, hopping off Rafael’s lap. “We’ll have to do it again soon,” she added, pressing quick kisses to Amanda and Sonny’s cheeks in turn. They waved their goodbyes as Dahlia practically dragged Rafael out of the bar.

As they stood waiting for a taxi, Dahlia wound her hands around his neck, crashing her lips onto his frantically. Rafael did his best to keep up with her, noting the way she moved her hips against his. It took every bit of his strength not to start something right there on the sidewalk. Blessedly, he saw a taxi coming and flagged it down, nudging Dahlia into the backseat.

She was like a woman possessed, and by the time they stumbled into their apartment, Rafael was tearing at her clothes, eager for some release after a night of teasing. He pushed her up against the wall in their entryway, his lips locked on hers, his hands slithering up her thighs and grabbing her ass possessively.

“Do you know how hard it was to look at you bent over the bar in this dress?” he growled into the slope of her neck.

“How hard, Rafa?” she panted, working the buckle on his belt.

He grabbed one of her hands forcefully and pressed it against the bulge straining in his dress slacks. “That hard.”

Dahlia shuddered, her breath coming heavy and hot against his ear, as she finally managed to undo his belt and the zipper on his pants with her free hand. With a low moan, she pushed his pants and boxer briefs down his legs and ran her fingertips nimbly up the length of his cock. Every muscle in her body trembled with tension, her pussy clenching repeatedly, aching for some kind of release.

Rafael nipped hard at her neck, loving the breathy whimpers his mouth elicited from her. He tugged the waist of her dress up and she lifted her arms so he could pull it over her head and toss it to the side. He made quick work of her bra, and yanked her red panties down to her ankles. He lifted them up on one of his fingers and leered at her with a smirk.

“These were a good investment,” he mused, before tossing them to the side as well.

He grabbed Dahlia’s shoulders roughly and turned her so her heaving chest was pressed flush against the wall. He ran his hands gingerly down the curve of her spine before landing a sharp smack on her ass. Her breathing hitched and turned into a whine as Rafael spanked her again. He ran a slow finger between her legs finding her slick between her folds. He had to have her.

While Rafael considered himself a very generous lover, and always made it a point to take his time with foreplay, he needed to be inside her, a need that gnawed at the edge of his consciousness as he lined himself up with her entrance. His left hand snaked around to grab at her throat, applying a little pressure as he thrust himself into her. A loud whimper spilled over her lips as his right hand found its way to her clit, rubbing firm circles as she rocked against his hand.

After a long night of teasing, Dahlia was already on edge. It didn’t take long for Rafael’s clever fingers to push her over. She came hard, wailing his name with her cheek pressed harshly against the wall, clamping down on his cock inside her. The increase in pressure around him had Rafael reeling; he buried himself deep inside her a few more times until he came, grunting her name, interspersed with a string of profanities. He collapsed against her back, working to even out his breathing.

“Fuck, Raf,” she huffed. “I’ve been thinking about you doing that since the first time you hit that goddamn button.”

Rafael chuckled, wincing slightly as he pulled out of Dahlia. She turned to face him, resting her shoulders against the cool wall as her hips swayed forward. She pushed her hair haphazardly out of her flushed face, her eyes sparkling in satisfaction.

“Shower?” she purred, feeling the stickiness dripping between her thighs. She ran a finger teasingly down Rafael’s chest.

He eyed her greedily, need still simmering in his belly. “Oh, we’re not done yet, mi amor. I promised to have you multiple ways, and I am nothing if not a man of my word.”

Dahlia’s eyes widened as Rafael wrapped his arms around her hips. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, yelping as he carried her purposefully to their bedroom for a little more fun.

[hesther-mcg]

blue dragons, part two + chapter thirteen

pairing: eventual asami x female oc 

character appearances: princess ursa II, general iroh II

summary: the one where iroh has to face the fact that his daughter is leaving

warnings: none i don’t think?? emotional 

a/n: i have no other explanation for why this took so long other than lack of motivation and self doubt haha. i’m not too sure how i feel about it, but i’m ready to get it posted and move on to the other chapters, but i am sorry that i made you guys wait so long. i wish i could have a consistent posting schedule but alas i am Not That Girl. also i made this gif for the chapter hehe 

p2, chap 12  p2, chap 13  blue dragons m. list

tag list: @noodlesfluffy  @sokkas-honour  @appa-gaangnam-style  @strawberisapphic​  @halfbakedanakin @graciefullygracie  @appaair @shellyseashell​  @ewanssdjarins​  @biqherosix​  @briellebean​ 

+ part 3

“So, the dragon’s finally leaving the nest, huh?” The familiar voice of Ursa’s father broke the silence of the room, somehow heavy and light all at the same time. 

She turned her head and looked over her shoulder, her long hair whipping around with it, and she spotted the man leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t look very happy, in fact he looked quite sad deep down; like he was trying to bury it and hide it from the world, but she could see through him. 

Ursa gave him a closed mouth grin anyways, feeling her own sadness deep down as well. “Yeah, but you know I’ll always fly back home.”

She stood before her bed, open suitcases and bags spread out and clothes everywhere. She was packing for her trip to the Southern Water Tribe, and wasn’t quite sure of the length of the trip, and had since decided to pack everything she owned that would keep her warm. 

To be fair, there weren’t many times Ursa needed to bundle up to keep out the cold, but that was about to change very soon. 

Her father chuckled and made his way further into the room slowly, “That’s what I like to hear.” He placed himself in an empty space on the bed, and watched his daughter with sad eyes. Each item that was packed away tugged at his heart strings, and he tried his best not to cry. That would be too dramatic. 

He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I don’t know why you don’t call a staff member to help, you’ve got tons of stuff here,” he attempted to distract himself from his emotions, to keep himself steady. 

“I can do things for myself, and I think now would be the time to show that,” she stated simply, not taking her eyes off of the task at hand. Iroh watched her for a few more moments, mind moving a mile a minute with a thousand different scenarios.

That was a dumb question, because it didn’t help at all. 

“Is this what you feel like watching me pack to leave overseas?” He questioned, voice and heart equally as heavy. 

Ursa faltered for only a second before her hands resume their actions. “Pretty much,” she nodded a few times. “It’s hard, preparing yourself to be without someone you love, but knowing that they’re doing something important is slightly comforting.” 

She placed the top she was folding down into the suitcase and turned her body slightly towards her father. “Watching you leave makes me sad, but knowing that you’re doing great things in the United Forces makes me feel a bit better,” she pursed her lips and swallowed thickly. “Think of it like this, Dad; the Avatar is the key to peace and balance in the world, and I’m going away to teach her. Isn’t that incredible?” 

“It is,” he nodded, and closed his eyes to hide the tears that gathered. “I’m really proud of you, Ursa. These last sixteen years have been hard without your mom,” he paused and gave a breathy chuckle, “--like really hard. But having you makes every day worth it,” he looked at her with eyes full of love and sadness, shining with pride and admiration. “Every time I see you doing something that makes me stop in my tracks, something only you would really do, it’s like I can feel her with me, you know? Standing beside me, head on my shoulder, whispering, ‘that’s our girl.’” His voice broke mid sentence and the Princess felt her heart crack, right down the middle. 

She placed a hand on her father’s shoulder and watched him for a moment before she spoke, taking in every detail that was so familiar ti her and that she would miss oh so dearly. His short black hair was styled as usual, and framed his face handsomely. His golden brown eyes that matched her own seemed to sparkle from the tears in the low light of her bedroom; tears because he loved her and was proud of her, because he would miss her every day and think of her often, because he was scared to let his little girl go but knew she wasn’t so little anymore. 

“I know what you mean,” Ursa comforted softly, feeling the sting behind her eyes the more she spoke. “I saw her, when I was fighting the guards,” she elaborated, “she was standing between you and Grandma, and she had a hand on both of your shoulders. I think that just goes to show that she’s always with us, you know? She’s always watching,” she placed herself gently beside her father, and he wrapped an arm around her. He missed how her eyes traveled to the doorway, and how they stayed glued there. He missed how his late love, the one on his mind and in his heart, stood there with a sweet smile and ethereal glow. 

“Being your dad’s been the greatest thing to ever happen to me,” he whispered, and Ursa’s throat tightened. “I don’t want you to ever forget that, no matter where you are or where I am,” Iroh shakily instructed, and when his daughter turned to look at him he gave her a tearful smile. 

“It’s hard, letting you go,” he nodded as he spoke, choking on his words as he struggled to keep somewhat composed. “Because I want to keep you safe and with me; but I know that you’re smart and can handle just about anything thrown at you.”

“Cause I’m your dragon?” She whispered hoarsely, the tears finally streaming down her cheeks and instead of a sixteen year old girl, he saw a tiny five year old looking up at him with sparkling gold eyes and a frown. 

“You’ll always be my dragon, Princess,” he answered her just as softly, and pulled her in for a hug. He wrapped his large arms around her smaller frame and tucked her under his chin, and she squeezed his torso tightly. Her cheek was squished against his chest, the material of his uniform collecting her tears but neither could be bothered to care; and he tried to memorize the feeling of holding her. Angi knew he’d need it when times got rough. 

This was the most emotional Iroh II had gotten in a long time, and he hardly ever did so in front of others, but it was difficult to hold it back and keep it hidden from his daughter. He had tried, tried so hard to remain the strong hero she knew he was, but in the wake of his only child packing up her entire closet to leave for who knows how long, he couldn’t care less about it anymore. 

The moment was vulnerable, sweet and sentimental and sad all at once. 

When the pair parted from one another, they discreetly wiped their eyes and stood from the bed. Silently, Ursa resumed her packing and her father stood beside her and began to help; but they didn’t need to say anything, everything that they were thinking could be felt by the other. 

The moment was still vulnerable, hearts bared and feelings exposed, and Amiko could feel the emotions swirling in the room on her fingertips when she reached out to her family. 

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Hi!! I really like your writing and I wanted ask for some advice if that isn't too weird ??

I'm trying to write my first multi-chapter fic for the Witcher fandom, but I literally have no idea how long the chapters should be... they're each clocking in at about 1700 words rn but is that too small? Too much??

Basically how do you write so amazingly while keeping yourself sane XD

Ahh, hello anon! Thank you so much for the compliment, gosh, and the answer is: I am very much not sane. Hurray!

So, I am a mess when it comes to chapter length. My go-to is usually anywhere between 3-5k, but (as you can probably tell) I never stick to that. One of the chapters in We Could Be Married is like, 3k, and one is nearly 10k. Usually my advice is to make sure they’re of a consistent length, but clearly I don’t do that, so.... yeah.

I think the best advice I can give you is to trust yourself to know when the chapters are “done”. Some chapters are longer, some are shorter. Each chapter (generally) contains its own mini-arc, of sorts, and I tend to end them on an “oh what happens next” note, which isn’t necessarily a good thing!

Sometimes I’ll write a really long chapter and think I should split it out, but there’s no place where I can split it out without ruining the narrative, or making it too jumpy. The second chapter of I Will Not Kiss You was “too long”, but if I split it, the narrative would have suffered for it, so I chose not to.

Basically... trust your instincts! If you think a chapter is “done”, it probably is. Often, you might look back on a long chapter and find a natural place for a chapter break, but if there isn’t one, don’t try to force it. Often a storyline I think is going to take one chapter suddenly takes two - and that’s fine too.

So... go with the flow, trust yourself, and have fun, anon! This is only fanfic, after all 💖

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 3)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 2

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Y/N seem to have woken up with a panic attack and with questions inside her head about on how she would come back to her world. Geralt may have said a solution to it, but it was rather difficult to achieve. Furthermore, it seems as if there was another thing difficult to attain as well which leaves him upset and frustrated with everything. No matter how you were out of place in Geralt's family, you couldn't help but still feel that peculiar warmth you wanted to feel forever.

Warnings: No modern references in this one except for fried chicken. Story title insertion! *wink wink nudge nudge* A lot of Jaskier, Geralt and Ciri banters and a soft but kinda rough Geralt in this one because of certain circumstances. THERE'S TENSION IF Y'ALL BE FEELING IT. AHONHONHON. Mention of Yennefer of Vengerberg in this one. Also explanation of portals and mention of potions used in the game. A lot of talking, less action. You’ll get your action and ANGST on the next chapterSSSSS! 

Words: 6,570+ (LONGGGGGGG AF! I WAS SHOOKTH!)

A/N: Reader is between 5'1 or 5'. You can imagine a 4'11 one if you want to! I JUST REALIZED...HOW...SHE'LL....THEY'LL....ALRIGHT, GET WRECKED, READER! 😅🤣🤣 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Taglist: @alyxkbrl​ @himarisolace​ @barkingbullfrog​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @vania-marie​ @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @nympeth​ @missjenniferb  (I couldn’t tag you bud! A different blog was popping out of the recommendation and it wasn’t your blog. Though, I’ll try again on the next update! Don’t worry!) @amirahiddleston​ @gabethelobster​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​ @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz​ 

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well. I’ve taken it from the games.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

The sun's rays cascaded on your face. Smell of burned out Oak wood whiffed through the air and filled your senses as faded voices suddenly become apparent for no reason, or probably a reason for you to wake up from your uncomfortable sleeping position.

Was it the TV? You thought to yourself, scrunching your nose from the sun that hit your face and merely from the dust that was flying all over the place. As much as you've remembered, cleaning has been your habit at home and having a dirty apartment was unfamiliar.

The rays of the sun was suddenly hidden from a body who had to lean down to take a good look at your face. You've hardly squinted your eye to blur out the television in the background, shifting your head around and leaning fully on your forehead instead to avoid your cat named Jafar from sniffing your face.

"Princess Cirilla," Geralt deeply groused, his grim seeming to be felt by how brooding he had to put up; inches away from Jaskier and Cirilla who were close to you and around the table, watching you sleep like a baby.

The light blonde princess who had bright ocean blue eyes demanded with a soft kick to the ground, "But, Geralt!" she bellowed with a huff, "I wanna be her friend! You lads aren't fun to be with!"

"She won't stay long, Cirilla. She isn't from our world," Geralt droned and felt the enervation of not having his sleep last night. You were weeping like a toddler all night and his heightened senses weren't helping himself when he could hear those snuffles echoing as he shifted and turned all over on his side of the bed.

It was beyond terrible and utmost irksome.

His initial thought was to help a screaming lady sprinting in the middle of the woods and shoo her off when he's done killing the creature hunting her down. He didn't expect for her to live with them after he did so' just like how Ciri eventually landed on his hands for him to take care of. Amazingly, the adoption he had consist of an explanation, a royal offer from the kingdom of Cintra that involves the Law Of Surprise unlike with you; there was none. Not even a justification as to why you were there with them.

Saving Y/N didn't mean another adoption was up to claim and for him to protect with all his life.

Jaskier sat on the wooden chair in front of you as he deliberated and tried to understand your situation in his own creative wits, "You mean a Teleporter?"

Geralt shook his head, eyes narrowing as he looked at you from the side; assessing your whole ordeal and trying to get a gist of magic in your veins, "No, Jaskier." Howbeit, he'd felt none and it was frustrating the Witcher, "---She doesn't possess magic, I can sense it."

The bard shrugged and disregarded his opinions, giving Geralt a once over before focusing on your hair; momentarily plucking out a small leaf out of your hair which erupted a cock of Geralt's head as he watched Jaskier having no fraught from touching you.

"You know that senses of yours aren't exactly a hundred percent accurate when you've got kicked by a Kikimore and bitten by Ghouls,"

His expression was stoic, glowering before them both and especially from Jaskier's comment. Cirilla had her delicate fingers clasp together and over the side of her face as she admired your sleeping face, "She's so adorable while she sleeps!" she continued to cajole, "---Even a little shorter than me! Maybe she's my age and we can play!"

"She isn't," Geralt ceased her admiration and shook his head, beautiful gold eyes staring at your face that shifted and was now face front as to where he stood from afar, "How certain are you about that? You've only met her last night!"

Jaskier had his fist on his chin, deliberately looking at Geralt with that knowing look.

The Witcher lowly hummed in ponder. Focal point on your sleeping face with a stoic expression, trying to distinguish your length of life from the moment you were born, "Y/N must be in between the age of twenty to twenty-five,"

Cirilla had her eyebrows in a twist as she moved around to take a closer look at you again, a frown from the information that has been said, "But, she looks younger than her age!"

"Not at least in between ninety? or exactly a hundred? Like you, Geralt?" Jaskier added to the dispute. His query making Geralt sigh because he has been repeating the idea like a slow idiot.

"She doesn't possess some sorts of magic nor is she mutated, Bard."

"Maybe she possesses the power of immortality!"

He glared at the bard who gave him a shrug, Jaskier's face still dead beat from how his nap has been ruined prior to the night, but he had more sleep than Geralt did considering he wasn't a Witcher and had senses that not any normal human may possess.

"So her name is Y/N?! Why didn't you wake me up to welcome our visitor?!" The girl in a mint green Kirtle exclaimed, their voices finally coming to your senses and realizing that it wasn't your television nor was it your cat's breath on your face. You whimpered in an attempt to wake yourself up; yawning in the process and languidly bringing your head up for it to be bent at an angle with your arm on the table and fist on your temple.

"You were sleeping," Geralt began, resolving her dismay at the situation at hand, "--and there was a beast, Princess. It was hunting her down,"

"Oh, poor Y/N," Cirilla frowned a tighter one, eyeing you down and peeking from under your arm as she noticed the bruises on your face. She took a second before straightening her back, the braid she'd fixed never turning higgley-piggledy because of how tight and proper it was. A look of interest sent to the Witcher by the princess of Cintra herself and now the future queen ahead, "But, did you kill it, Geralt?"

Their voices seem to be recognizable, the two men of some sort and the kid's voice completely unfamiliar for you. Repetitive blinks full of fatigue before having the energy to sleepily place your chin on your fist, a blurry image of a youthful, lean body and a pretty face of a man sitting in front you coming clearer as you blinked again.

"Isn't it such a sight to wake up to your bruising face early in the morning, small rat."

Your face turned into a tight frown at the image sitting before you. The pillow of your lip jutting out in a pout when you've scanned the whole place and saw Geralt standing with a stern expression on his face, behind a kid who looked taller than you and extremely pretty.

The house even looked more old and primitive in the morning like you're currently living in history which made you groan to yourself because you haven't teleported back to your home as Jaskier said last night.

Great. Just great. You thought in the back of your mind before grumbling, "Can you...stab me with your sword right now?"

The question was sent to the Witcher despite of staring fully on the table. You didn't hear an answer from him as per usual and felt your anxiety rising through your head in agitation like a lighter sparking the gas. It's travelling too fast that you haven't realized the panic shooting wildly.

"I'm still here," you bawled, "I'm still here," and repeated over and over like a dinosaur jumping on rocks whenever google doesn't have internet. The panic was beginning to boil, making your fingers tremble in apprehension as you've struggled to keep in place on your seat, your feet on the ground shaking from the worry. Both hands gripping on your roots as you began to bawl out because you couldn't scream out all your frustrations because that's not how you roll, "I've already slept, I thought I'll be waking up in my apartment already,"

Cirilla took a step back when you've started crying, looking over at Geralt to ask what was happening. Both men together were contemplating as to what was happening as the Bard reluctantly and very slowly stood up as his gaze was fixated on you who kept on mumbling in whispers. He ran behind Geralt like you were a possessed woman and actually thinking you were casting a spell because of how fast you were mumbling your feelings out loud, sounding incomprehensible to the ears of everyone except for Geralt.

Jaskier stood behind Geralt like a kitten shielding behind his mother, "Geralt! I told you! She's a sorceress! One like Yennefer! This is probably why you're fond of her!"

Cirilla examined your state and tried understanding what was happening, her nerves also unsettling about the fact that maybe you were possessed by black magic. Though, she doubt it because you should've attacked everyone already.

Hence, there you were in your own seat. Bawling your eyes out like a toddler who had been left by her parents.

"Geralt? Is she okay?" the pretty child questioned Geralt who stood behind her with a distant look on his face.

His eyes narrowed on you, continuing his perusal. He was trying to fathom what was running inside those mind of yours and when a tear fell and another sniff coming from your side of the cavern, he knew it. A slight turn of his head and his silent thoughts of understanding as he had seen you freaking out and crying like last night; he knew what was happening.

"She's...panicking. Utterly harmless, Jaskier. Just like how humans do unless you aren't actually one," Geralt nonchalantly informed the bard who was hiding behind his towering form. He watched you roughly wipe your tears with the back of your clothed hand; his sweater that was awfully big for you and continued to rant while he narrowed his eyes as your focus was now on the knife set on an empty soiled plate that Jaskier has left.

"I just wanna go home!"

His forehead creased to the extent of trying to figure you out. Shoulders slumping as he breathed out a ragged curse beneath his breath to further his dissatisfaction of your next move.

"Y/N!"

You were fast enough to grab onto the sharpened knife, aiming it to the sensitive portion of your neck. However, not fast enough for the Witcher to even let it happen.

The knife in your hand wasn't even lifted halfway for Geralt to know what you were going to do. He'd seen a lot of bloodshed and known enough people who wanted for their blood to drop out of their hands. It only took two steps for him to construct his onslaught before you've even tried to slit your throat before them.

Your choice of weapon has been sheathed away from you. The tall, brooding, brawny Witcher slightly bending you on the table as he pulled the knife away from your neck with just a grip that didn't even earned him a sweat. It was like taking candy from a baby. Yet, you were pretty much struggling a lot from his strength as you tried wrenching your wrist off his hold with Geralt hunching down before you and never letting go.

Those gold eyes were a charm against the rays of the sun cascading his face. Your faces close from each other and you can see the chagrin and fury swirling in his eyes rather than those plain, apathetic glimmer set in his eyes with a warmth you couldn't express. With that only being seen and stared at, you knew he was furious.

The scary witcher was losing his temper.

"Let me go, Geralt." you firmly stated, voice wavering and sounding small like you were being hunted by a cheetah. Geralt held his scowl better than he had to when he has seen you the first time and it wasn't faltering.

You tried wrenching your wrist away from the Witcher, but he pulled it back with no remorse. Keeping you in place as he seethed; Aurum eyes momentarily taking a glimpse of your dry, chapped lips that were inches apart before settling those peepers on yours again and he wanted to groan out loud for the unsettling emotion he was having, "I would like to see you try, Midget."

Geralt held your wrist tighter around his fingers because you were moving, though; the simple action was enough for you to stop and never even think about doing it again. The strength that he was using was not enough to inflict pain. "I don't need another person's blood on my hands,"

Some of his dirt-ivory colored hair fell on his face as he continued to fume. Expression thoroughly livid as he said those words like it was burnt till dust, a history that should've been left forgotten but was now relived because of your forsaken act.

His warm breath hit your face and you couldn't move at all, like you were powerless and utter putty in his hands. You've heard a grumble vibrated out of his chest before snatching the knife off your fingers and quickly retreating from his position with a frustrated hum, leaving you exhaling out a breath you didn't know you were holding since he has grabbed onto you.

"Wha-what if dying is the only way to bring me back," you've tried to keep yourself in tact despite of the fast beating of your heart and the anomalous heat travelling all over your body. You shook the feeling off with a shake of your head as you continued; looking at Jaskier and Cirilla, avoiding the presence of the man who has been playing with your mind and human heart, "---I've slept, tried everything and still woke up in your house,"

The declaration sounded weak; completely despairing as you've seen Geralt saunter back to where he has been standing before you even tried to slit yourself alive. A tight moue that twisted his features from the act that has happened; filling utter disappointment as the rough crease of his wrinkles wanted to say.

But, he chose to stay silent rather than let out those emotions he was battling with.

You were completely an unorthodox to him. A picture he couldn't see and never wanted to even touch but hoped to imagine.

"I can feel you, I can touch everyone, I can feel sadness, despair, happiness, pain and a lot more," he felt your eyes on him as the first word has been said before reluctantly sharing gazes at the other two who were breathing when you've continued your articulation.

Nevertheless, the act that has happened made Jaskier and Cirilla's breaths hitch because they couldn't believe that it just happened in front of them like it was nothing.

It looked like Geralt has handled the situation well and you were suddenly okay. Just like that. A peculiarity of an event that they couldn't understand.

You've straightened your back and held your hopes high, dubiously taking a trek till you were in front of the people who were nice enough to give you shelter despite of not knowing you from the start; with a goodwill to even save you from an Alghoul that appeared out of nowhere when you should've died already when Geralt wouldn't have jumped into the picture.

But, no. You were still alive and you didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing as the protection came with a fair trade to be living in the world that they were in. A world where you still believed was in earth because of how human they appeared and felt. The only fragment that could keep you in doubt was the monsters that emerges out of nowhere and the magic that these people have been saying. A magic that can't be seen with the naked eye because you haven't seen a supernatural phenomenon yet.

Geralt gave a gravelly hum once you've settled your short self before him, the height differences apparent to the perspective of people. Geralt had his Herculean body in an assertive stance, broad-shoulders poised as you peered up at him with forlorn, the upset frown etched upon your face and he couldn't help but breath through his nose to compose himself.

"I need to go back, I gotta go back. Aren't you a witcher? Can't you cast a spell and help me?"

Jaskier and Cirilla had their forehead creased as they stared at the two. The beautiful child completely unaware of where you originated. She was deep in thought, thinking you came from any of the kingdom or if you were mutated as well just like Geralt because as been said by the witcher, you didn't belong in their world.

The man with glowing Aurum eyes sighed, "Witchers..don't work that way," he claimed with a slant of his head, eyeing you with gall and a slight pacified demeanor after losing his patience a while ago, "---I slaughter beasts, not brew the Fillet of a fenny snake with an eye of a newt nor cast a spell while mixing tons of shit in a cauldron like you thought I was,"

His disclosure was enough to make your heart fail from having faith again. It seems like every darn time he opens those luscious damn lips of him leaves you in a crestfallen shape or he just seems like the type to not give you hope with positive things like this which is why he was failing no matter if he wanted to give comfort.

You've washed your face with your hands in frustration, the fear rising for the second time this day and felt Geralt's heated stare on you, eyes shining in baffling fascination no matter how phlegmatic he wanted to appear. You can just see it in his eyes and it was odd because you've remembered how you couldn't read him like a book the night before, yet here you were; understanding how he tries to interact with you.  

"Then, who can help me? Is there a portal or some sort?"

His eyes looked away for a moment; deeply dwelling a thought inside his head. "Sorcerers create portals of natural phenomena and places that actually exist," the Witcher began roughly, voice utmost in the lowest timbre he could ever do and it almost made your body vibrate from his pitch, "---However, most sorcerers can only link portals to the world they're familiar with and that occurs in having the same witchcraft that a certain world creates," Geralt landed his bright eyes on you as he continued to ponder. An inevitable glower stamping his face as he went on with more information and a tight grimace, "---we aren't exactly certain about your world. But, the contingencies of casting a portal that should've been left untouched can cause upheaval or chaos not just to both worlds, but to the natural habitat and the future as well,"

Your frown was cut short, changing into an ample amount of confusion because of his explanation. Simply to say, the chances of creating a portal will jeopardize not just their world, but also earth as well. If you'll be wanting to cast a portal, there was a great amount of risk ahead.

Geralt continued his vouch, still engrossed at looking you in the eye like he wanted you to melt into a puddle. Your traitor of a heart skipping a beat as you've avoided his eyes and looked elsewhere, "---Which definitely leaves insignificance as to why you're lost in our world when there was no witchery encompassing that earth you call your kingdom,"

"So, there's no hope then?" you pointed out, sapless.

"It takes risks, Midget." Geralt lowly enunciated, the gravel in his voice seeming coherent as he mentioned the nickname he calls you. He looked to the ground, mind wandering off Wonderland as a scowl began to form again, like the next thing he wanted to say should've been kept and not mentioned ever again, "---And a very powerful sorcerer,"

Jaskier's ears perked at that, speculating and trying to involve himself with the topic at hand, his tongue waiting to be moved and for words to be told for reiteration, "Or sorceress," the bard boasted with a tone that made the witcher hiss back at him with contempt.

"Yennefer of Vengerberg could do the job well or some of her associates," the bard jested with a soft push of his elbow to Geralt's ribs, though it didn't even made him flinch. His nose flared back at him, giving him the stink eye before cussing him beneath his breath.

"Fuck off, Bard."

Cirilla ignored their laser eyes and tried to join in the conversation, "Who is Yennefer? I've been asking this since the last two last years!" she pondered, hesitantly raising her hand as if asking the teacher if it was time for her to spit out questions.

"Someone you shouldn't know, Cirilla,"

So, there was really hope. Even only a fourty-five percent of that aspiration you needed for your heart to be filled with faith. You nodded to yourself in understanding, leaving those other questions inside your head and asked straight to the point, "Who is Yennefer?"

Jaskier stepped a foot close, officially involving himself in the conversation with a smug grin on his face. His hands on his hips as he revealed with no shame, "Geralt's long lost love,"

Geralt had to close his eyes to calm himself down from the bard who kept on interjecting in the talk with you.

The princess of Cintra huffed, stomping a foot on the ground as she fixated her gaze at the huge trunk of a man who seemed to be having a moment of meditation, "You didn't tell me you had a lover!"

"Not anymore," Geralt grumbled more so to himself as the crowd asked questions after questions and served their opinions on a buffet plate; open for everyone to hear.

You innocently cast a look to his face. He could also feel your eyes on him and when he'd fluttered them open; it was completely pure for his irksome heart to fall in tranquil, "She's the one of the most powerful sorceress I know," he subtly breathed in your scent, masking himself with it as he tries to remember it in the back of his mind. Becoming familiar to the strong scent that makes his thoughts go in a haywire. A sharp, palpable and fresh scent that he ought and needed to ingurgitate straightaway. Lemon with a hint of peony; definitely different from the scent that Yennefer had, Lilac and Gooseberries. "---Maybe the only one who could create an enigma of a portal," the witcher more so than grumbled, face twisting in a way that made you look up at him in question because he seemed to be in pain, "Then? What are we waiting for? We should find her!"

The mere mention of a person who could help you leave their world quickly placed a warm beam lifting your lips, a sight that Geralt has been struggling to forget since last night. His eyes wandered off elsewhere, missing the catch of your bright filled ones as his nose scrunched from how overwhelming it was to be close to you.

"That's the problem," he gurgled before taking a step back, hissing beneath his breath because of how he was starting to become frustrated again, "---she's nowhere to be found," before turning his back away from you with a grumble.

You watched him walk away from you, embracing all his negativity and feeling your heart plummet because he was acting far from the welcoming man last night. It was like it has never been him that was offering to cover your wounds as he knelt in front of you, all the more; giving you a small smile despite of it not being his forte in doing so.

He was unconventional to you. A book you've definitely wanted to read, yet difficult to understand because the words were such a complex for the naked eye. Geralt was rare and a kind you've never encountered. Literally.

Nonetheless, his presence was intriguing and definitely inveigling.

"I have no hope then," you've thought to yourself, hearing Cirilla and Jaskier banter over something about the sorceress that ignited Geralt's change of heart.

"I'm hungry," Cirilla stressed towards the Bard who was now holding his Lute and plucking with the strings like he was forming another one of his epics inside his head. The bard ignored her and gave Geralt a once over who was on the other end of the cavern, opening wooden cabinets which had all different kinds of concoctions that certainly a normal human cannot take because of how toxic it was and how it was only forbidden and restricted for Witchers.

Cirilla threw a hissy fit, blowing out a breath of agitation and hunger because she was famished. You studied the child and noticed she was a little taller than you no matter how she should've been small. As you've tried to eye-ball her height, she seems to be in between five foot four or five foot three. "What's your name, kid?"

She narrowed her eyes on Jaskier who began to tread to where the Witcher is, "Cirilla," the princess honestly voiced out, palm on her stomach as it grumbled a sound that says she was starving so much.

Cirilla turned her heel to look at you, better than having Geralt stand before you because he was giving you stiff neck from being a tall, brooding man. She eyed you in question and you gave her a sincere smile, waggling your brows at the princess, "I can make food if you want?"

Princess Cirilla jumped on her feet like a child being given candy, clapping her hands in excitement, "Great! A mother figure other than a pair of boys! Geralt and Jaskier make the nastiest food they can ever cook," she jeered with a puff of her breath. Her eyes twinkled in felicity.

She gave you a big wide grin when you've pondered in thought as to what was easy to make in  medieval age; questions numbered inside your head and asking no one in particular if their world had chicken? flour? or bread flour, if they didn't have one? Condiments or any kind of spices for taste. Their time had to have chickens and so, you wanted a modern kind of dish to help yourself as well despite of living like in the past, "I can make you fried chicken, if you want? That is, if you can get me chicken,"

"What is a fried chicken?" she'll definitely love it, you thought because she was a child. Seeing her smile go bright just from hearing it made you heart coo; or it was simply a new image rather than those scowls you have been seeing since the morning has started so the kid had a soft spot in your heart. "An unhealthy dish, but definitely scrumptious,"

You turned your head towards the men who were a little bit far from where you both stood, they were talking in silence and that was completely pristine than the banters you've heard non-stop last night, "---And also a healthy viand for these boys you have,"

Jaskier continued plucking on his Lute, strumming random notes as he hummed inside his head, he gave you and Cirilla a glimpse as the bard watched you both interact with each other like you were both long lost friends, like a natural bond slowly being created, "Maybe this cuckoo of a maiden isn't actually bad to have around," he decreed with a look of sympathy. Turning his head to look at Geralt who seemed to have a furious staring contest with his potions.

"---You should help her, Geralt."

The Witcher languidly blinked, partially shutting the wooden cabinet closed and noting that he was deficient of Cat elixir, a concoction to help him grant sight in total darkness, some Black Blood and Fiend concoction that helps him increases the amount of weight that he can carry without being overburdened. Geralt sighed at Jaskier's confession.

"Do I have a choice?" he gurgled back at the bard.

"Won't a djinn help?"

Geralt gave Jaskier a once over before taking a glimpse of you and Ciri who were now sitting on the table, chatting about certain things that can entertain the princess. Jaskier finally had the tune he wanted, a simple catchy tune but different from his song about Witchers. It just had the same style, "I've already took it down into consideration," the bard hummed, completely intrigued and gave him a look, "We can take risks,"

Jaskier ceased himself from humming, the voices of women giggling in the background coming along in their conversation. The ambiance changing into a lighter tone from the moment you came into their cavern. A thorough spin of the world like it was changing in the different kind of path; it was like seeing a new color for the rainbow that has been added to complete the beauty of it all.

You just had that specific effect that could create allurement to the world wherever you're in. Hence, that was probably your magic.

"But, are you willing to take it, Witcher?"

He was taken aback by the question, a question even asked as a question inside his head. Was he really willing to take the risk in helping this midget? another person on his hand to protect and help? Will it not slip apart due to unfortunate circumstances? Geralt calmly breathed through his nose, his facial features slackening when he'd seen Cirilla's eyes twinkling again despite of what she has been through. "I've been through hell and maybe even deeper than that. Probably already met the devil with it,"

Geralt slanted his head in a way to adore the image right in front of him; though with a face that seemed to be lackadaisical, "---This woman hasn't experienced what I have, not even the slightest and I don't want her to," he suddenly admitted, "---I have no thought as to what curse has this woman been cast upon,"

Jaskier nodded in comprehension and ruth for you; pretty blue eyes admiring the sight before him and Geralt, "Seems quite an unfortunate path,"

"Evil is evil," The Witcher added as a matter of fact, "---Lesser, greater or even stronger," a subtle pause to catch his breath as he eyed you beaming back at what Cirilla has said before he continued, "---She hasn't shielded herself from it, nor does she have an amulet with her; like she was sent here for a reason. She's bound for ill-fate because we're in a world full of animosity and mayhem," Geralt trailed off when you've rummaged for the things in the pocket of your short that was neatly folded on the side of the table.

You've shown Cirilla a small beautiful transparent ball that had rainbow color stars inside. It was a lucky charm for you and it has been given as a gift from your mother back in earth.  

"Do you know Jacks and Stones, Cirilla?"

Cirilla's ears perk at that, a perplexed expression written on her face. "The game doesn't ring a bell, Y/N."

Once Cirilla has seen you grabbed onto the small stones on the space below their window and tried to play on your own, her forehead creasing seemed to relax and a look of elation and familiarity run through her face, "I think I actually know it! Isn't it Knucklebones?"

You've caught the ball and the small stone in one hand with no sweat. She eyed the ball and the stones scattered around the table, her eyes gleaming a lot more than she ever did. "I think so! But, here's the catch! Loser gets a slap on the forehead with a finger and the Winner gets two drumsticks of my special fried chicken,"

"---Oh, you're on, Y/N! I'm great at Knucklebones!" she challenged as she abruptly stood on the table, looking right back at Geralt and Jaskier who were already looking in fascination.

Cirilla demanded in blithe. A big, bright smile shining her face, "Geralt, we need chicken! Catch us one!"

At the mention of that, Geralt couldn't help but repeatedly blink at the wishes from the princess; catching him off-guard. Jaskier couldn't help but send a shit-eating grin to the Witcher who had his brows in another kind of twist, his face wanting to wince but he ceased to.

"I'm a Witcher, not a farmer," he deeply mumbled with a sigh. Cirilla blew a breath, her hands on her hips as she sassed, "Aren't you a butcher of Blaviken? Or do they just call you that?"

The Witcher's forehead creased at the mention of one of his monikers. He didn't want anymore retorts because the princess would drop down more comments for the argument that will last for hours till end just for her demands to be taken into account. Thus, which is why; Geralt was shrewd enough to end her pleading with submission.

"Fine,"

He thought that would be the end of everybody's demand when you've suddenly stood up on your seat and waved a hand to get his attention. Geralt gave you a look of query and with a little bit of tenderness in his eyes that you could undeniably feel no matter how stoic his expressions were. You cleared your throat, grinning back at him like a Cheshire cat.

"Can I come with you? Please?"

"No, midget." He strained, the lackadaisical tone lacing at the end of his tongue. His answer was fast and prudent, entirely against the idea.

You just wanted to be familiar with their world when you'll be staying in it for days, maybe even months or badly for years because of how you didn't know the portal they were saying. All you knew on how to transport was cars, airplanes, boats, bikes and even walking would do the job. But, not with magic and scientific luck.

You pouted back at The Witcher, heart falling from the rejection. Sending him the most pitiful look in your eyes and hoping you weren't looking like a waggling goose before them, "Pleaseee, Geralt? I wanna wander in the woods! Be familiar with the place especially that I've probably going to take time before I go back home," pause. "After Cirilla and I play and know who wins and loses,"

Geralt huffed to himself, an incoherent one as he deeply sighed. Jaskier could hear him from where he stood as he adjusted the leather hoop of his Loot across his shoulder, his witcher of a friend's jaw clenching like he was thinking about it deeply. Before granting permission in the end because of how you were giving him those Hirikka eyes; as said by his inner thoughts out in the back.

"Fine,"

The bard wanted anything but to cough out loud from that submission. Jaskier gave him a double-take. An evident look of surprise in his eyes as he turned his soles to point a finger at the Witcher. Geralt was quick enough to shake his head and slap his finger away with the back of his hand.

"Don't...even start, Bard."

"It's been a day and this small rat already has you wrapped around her finger!" he whisper-yelled at his friend, excitement and jest sparking his nerves which got him grinning like the devil.

Geralt glared at the mischievous bard grinning back at him with the knowing look that they can only both understand, "When will you bloody shut up?"

"When I don't have the voice to poetically sing my wonderful epics," Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms on top of his Lute with that mocking glint in his eyes. The Witcher smirked back at Jaskier, spitting out a particular jest that could get him back-paddling, "Guess I'll need a travel companion in finding another Djinn,” 

Jaskier blinked in surprise, taking a step back as he shook his head and had a hand on his hip while the other was wiggling in the air to express his negations, "Oh no no no, Witcher! Keep me out of your heroic attempts of gathering some kind of genie! I am done!" the bard ridiculed as he took hesitant steps back, slowly and slyly taking off before Geralt carries him on his shoulders to purposefully tag him along in finding another Djinn, "I figured playing this jacks and stones with Cirilla and Y/N will be much better instead,"

Jaskier halted from his silent, sneaky egress. Giving both women a glimpse who were playing behind him, "A BARD WISHES TO JOIN YOUR WONDERFUL ADVENTURE, LASSIES!"

He snapped his head back at Geralt who simple wore a crooked smile and a look of mockery filling his perfectly chiseled face, "Off you go, Witcher of the night," the rascal waved him off, a gloaty banter being thrown back to the smug witcher, "I have also yet to create another knightly epic for an intriguing love story that is bound to unfold in the far north of Kaedwan,"

Thusly, Geralt's crooked smile was rapid to fall. His face masking in condemnation when Jaskier began to strum his lute and with a tune that would probably haunt his friend as he tried to sleep through the night.

"Doeful eyes like a dear~ Seems like a Witcher who couldn't bear~,"

Jaskier's singing has made history through different places in the continent and he was never wrong with the epics he'd been orally singing out around which is why this new song he was forming to create would either be a complete disaster, a mere tell-tale or a myth that was bound to end up in the vast veracity of the epic told.

IT’S ALL FUN AND HAPPY NOW. BUT, Y’ALL WILL SEE THE WRATH OF ANGST WHEN THE CHAPTER GOES FURTHER!

[godkilller]

@izzabizz139

I wanna hear you rant about the Gin vs Hitsugaya anime fight bc I love seeing your pov and you clearly write better than whoever extended that scene :) pretty please

          out of character.  DON’T ENABLE ME SO MUCH !!  No but I cackled when I first saw this ask because oh my god, clearly you saw a taste of my annoyance about the anime adaptation -- no, adaptation implies it was accurate, I’ll say the anime’s take was “inspired by” the manga’s quick run-in. I’ll start by saying this moment is supposed to be a bit important considering, via the audience’s point of view, THIS IS THE FIRST WE SEE OF TWO CAPTAIN-RANKED SHINIGAMI CLASHING. The only other captain-involved fight we’ve seen thus far in the manga is Kenpachi  ( who is an outlier and should not be counted... no, I joke... but, still, Ichigo was not an equal to him, his sword was sliced through like butter. )  The whole reason I enjoyed this encounter between Toshiro and Gin was simply this; it wasn’t some fancy multi-chaptered fight. IN THE MANGA, THERE ARE ONLY TWO BLOWS MADE. One, by Toshiro, to begin the fight. The second, to end it, is Gin’s strike.

          I want you to know that I’ve rewatched this specifically to answer this ask, and only due to this, as I wouldn’t have ever sought it out otherwise. HONOR MY SACRIFICE.

          Read more for length. I’m merciful.

          In the anime, they monologue at each other, and it’s mostly a combination of Toshiro making three separate death threats  ( he starts this off by saying “I’ll kill you before Hinamori arrives” and then goes on rewording it each time, and then also repeats the death-threat he gave Gin prior to this conflict about “I’ll kill you if Hinamori bleeds” )  and then also Gin and Izuru talking about how truly powerful and amazing Toshiro is -- no, this isn’t me being bitter or petty, I literally shit you not, Gin has a line that is legit “AS EXPECTED FROM HITSUGAYA TOSHIRO, CAPTAIN OF THE TENTH DIVISION, A CHILD PRODIGY OF TH' SORT THAT ONLY COMES ALONG ONLY ONCE EVERY FEW CENTURIES. HOW VEEEERY DANGEROUS. YOU’RE SERIOUS, AIN’T YA?” like don’t get me wrong, love a good sarcastic little shit comment like that, but the amount of times the anime pumps Toshiro up like he’s their shinest new cash cow ( and he is, at this point, it is not even 50 episodes into the series and they’ve realized everyone likes him and he’s jumped to high ranks in popularity polls... earning him filler spotlights, and eventually his very own non-canon movie )  so everything coming out of Gin’s mouth feels like more bullshit than necessary. Izuru’s already literally monologued, internally, how powerful and amazing Toshiro is anyways. Why this ?

          Not to mention that, prior to saying that long-winded shit, Gin’s haori changed length three times  ( and once it was longer than his entire body by several feet, and no not in a ‘to show motion’ way )  and most importantly Shinso was drawn, consistently, at katana-length for the duration of their little spat where the following, too, happened: Gin frog-leaps after doing a backflip, Toshiro gives Gin two (2) haircuts, Gin ruins some floorboards and gives Toshiro at least one splinter in his arm, Toshiro whilst wearing socks lands on Shinso’s blunt edge and pushes the sword down with his footsie because that’s how that works, there’s another backflip somewhere in there that Gin doesn’t need to be doing, twirl, twirl, and ballet, Gin’s face elongates until his chin is bigger than his face, Gin spends ten+ seconds purely dodging very close strikes to his face as Toshiro is the only one making breathy growly and ‘tsuuaaah’ sounds, there is a brief moment of no gravity as Toshiro keeps hacking at Gin midair and Gin blocks it over and over again but they still stay in the air but they’re not standing or jumping or using reiatsu they’re just like, momentum-locked I don’t fucking know, Gin frowny faces as he blocks because like somehow this kid who doesn’t even have more reiatsu than him, whose arm strength should not be an issue, is like. making him nervous?? as sword sparks fly. if you know me at all you know I hate when they fuckin’ firework sparkler-ify swords clashing.

          Anyways, all of this happens whilst Shinso is the wrong length and Gin’s hair is getting purpler by the second and this entire thing is somehow a big jack-off to Toshiro’s immense strength even though he’s screaming and wailing at Gin like a child and Gin’s just a vessel at this point to Enhance Toshiro, which, fine, okay, but at least be more accurate with it god damn. ANYWAYS,

          THEY JOUST. They literally run at each other, swords centered, and run past / to the side of one another. Jousting. “Cause that’s how that works. No slashes, no cutting motion. Just swords centered, because the animators were like “no worries guys I know swordfighting basics that’s a legit pose” yeah it is WHEN STATIONARY. Not rUNNING IT DOWN.

          And then Gin’s sleeve is cut, somehow, from the Jousting, because wow Toshiro wow wow wowowowow, and then Toshiro comes back and starts wailing at Gin again and Gin blocks it, again, and it’s all very annoyingly repetitive, and Gin’s frowning and sparks are flying and Gin’s using Shinso, the katana-length wakizashi I guess, with two hands because like I said, the animators knew basics and basics are “katana are used two-handed” like. Okay, you’re not wrong, but I cannot stress this enough: SHINSO IS NOT A KATANA. It’s shorter and meant to be used single-handed!!!! sTop!!! So then Gin rips off the tattered part of his sleeve and throws it at Toshiro, who swipes it away from his face using his Zanpakuto because that’s intelligent and a piece of cloth was definitely threatening enough to use your sword to bat it away  ( btw, Hitsugaya wasn’t holding his sword with two hands at this precise moment, so he could have just... used his other hand )  and then Gin goes in for the classic “stabby stabby rapidly at you while the animation gets a little breather because we repeat this cycle a few times with flashy bgs and phew money made” ... WE ARE FOUR MINUTES AND THIRTY SECONDS INTO THIS FIGHT BY THE WAY. Gin does this for seventeen (17) agonizing seconds straight. Yes, I counted. That was sixteen and a half too many seconds for me, personally.

          Toshiro somehow lassos Shinso whilst Gin is stabby stabby-ing with Hyourinmaru’s chain component. I say component like it’s somehow some type of beauty guru’s lipstick holder, but really am I that wrong ? When else has he ever used this feature ? Anyways, he lassos Shinso because yeehaw I guess, god I’m falling apart at this point can y’all tell????? I need a drink.

          and so, because now Toshiro has Gin’s sword somehow trapped with chain even though it’s just looped around it, he backflips over Gin for a cool trickshot, no blow issued, just vibes, and Gin uses a big brain moment to tug Shinso and the chains slide off. okay now what. We’re past five minutes into this fight, nonstop.

          SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD TIME FOR GIN TO PAUSE AND APPRECIATE TOSHIRO AGAIN! “I see, I shouldn’t have underestimated you, HItsugaya Toshiro” I’m starting to have a feeling Gin’s VA was told to just wing these lines because the amount of times he fills silences / Gin’s mouth movements with Toshiro’s long-ass name is astounding, he’s definitely drawing blanks here but he sure as hell knows one thing: that damn ice-boy’s name. He continues by saying “I suppose I’ll end up regretting it afterwards.”

          Toshiro says that’s not enough, and it’s really dramatic and cool. His eyes even glow all icy and blue and pretty, like his flowy reiatsu. Aesthetic points were gifted entirely to Toshiro’s animations in this scene. Gin was finished in MS Paint and each new scene they had to draw Shinso from memory and try to remember what hue of purple his hair was at gunpoint. Toshiro lets off a big wave of reiatsu and then it vanishes, and he jumps up reaaaally high. like this guy’s flying. his eyes arent glowing anymore that’s sad. Bring Back Glowing Eyes For Strong Shinigami 2k21.

          Toshiro releases his Shikai, and it’s badass, the sky darkens, Izuru looks distinctly more worried than usual, and Gin’s frowning with his teeth out like Bugs Bunny’s having a bad day, all is right in the world. Toshiro and his released Shikai have a nice moment for the Pics, and a big epic freeze frame blur moment happens with it all coiled and swirling around him. Wrow!  ( click the ‘wrow’ it’s a link to my exact reaction )  Izuru narrates for the third time about how powerful Toshiro is, his reiatsu, his Zanpakuto being a deity who is only unlocked every few centuries. The strongest ice-type sword. Pardon the pun, but that’s... you could say, so cool.

          It can even control the weather. So hey, next time it’s rainy, cold, icy, or snowing and you’re unhappy, it’s time to direct a big fuck you at Toshiro.

          Gin dodges the first dragon, and blocks the second with Shinso because blocking water and ice with a sword makes sense right? This actually takes a solid amount of seconds as Gin cuts through the entire length of this ice dragon noodle. Things dissipate, and pause, too, to really drag this out. Surprisingly, this reveals that Gin’s made a boo-boo, his left arm’s frozen, which doesn’t even mean anything because Gin is right-handed, and Toshiro teleports himself behind Gin in true fighty fashion.

          We have arrived at seven minutes and just under twenty seconds of this fight, and Gin turns, DOES THE UNTHINKABLE, gasp! He opens his eyes. His red, dull, evil, gray-eyebrowed with purple hair eyes, and shoots Shinso through its hideout spot behind his haori. This nearly takes off Toshiro’s eye and upwards of his head, but the little guy dives down fast. The rest happens in slow motion, supposedly, because it takes an eternity and people talk entire full sentences in its span of time.

          Gin asks Toshiro if he’s sure he’d like to dodge that  ( it’s a little late for that ) and says that Momo’ll die if he does. SHINSO SCRAPING ALONG AGAINST HYOURINMARU STRANGELY MAKES NOT A SINGLE SOUND. Mute. Even though before they had no problem animating and adding sounds to them smacking blades earlier. There are soundless sparks though, so there’s that. Yay. Can you tell how exhausted this’s made me? I need a nap.

          Shinso is already more than halfway towards Momo, still unconscious, she most definitely has a serious concussion via Toshiro backhanding her midair consider she’s been unconscious for longer than ten minutes. Toshiro has time to get up off the floor where he dropped to dodge, realize with a shocked gasp, turn, shout her name, and watch as Rangiku arrives in a random glow of gold which never happens ever again and blocks the attack with Haineko. Haineko almost cracks on the impact, and continues growing in damage as Rangiku holds Shinso there, implying that she’s stopped it from reaching one-hundred sword’s lengths to pierce Momo. Yes I’m including that implication / note in here because we love to see Rangiku succeeding in life and being Not-Helpless, all while potentially damaging Haineko severely if it wasn’t able to hold him off. Yikes, Gin!

          Rangiku threatens to join the fight if he doesn’t withdraw his sword. Gin smiles, withdraws it, and then Shunpos away.

          Whatta mess. Oh, and the anime fight was pretty fucked up, too.

          This is a long post, but here’s the manga version:

Toshiro leaps into the air,

This is where the fight actually starts between them:

And end. 

Five pages. Two blows. Does not equate to ten minutes of non-stop fighting and monologues. Sometimes, and I mean this in the most unbiased way possible, less is more.

[obxwhore]

The Night It Happened - Chapter One

Summary: It’s been two years since Ariana West, the fifth member of the Pogues vanished out of nowhere. After months of searching, they had no choice but to give up and her disappearance was left a mystery to her family and her best friends. After having the summer of their lives, the four remaining Pogues are met with shock when their missing friend stumbles into John B’s backyard, bloody and bruised. Ariana having no recollection of where she had been, and the group having very little trust with the law enforcement of Outer Banks, they rush to find out what happened to Ariana before it happens again.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Cursing, violence, mentions of kidnapping, mentions and images of abuse.

A/N: Hello! Thank you guys so much for the positive reception I’ve been getting from the prologue. I was really nervous to put my writing out there, so it really means a lot. This is the first official chapter. I’ve written and rewritten it probably around four or five times and I’m pretty happy with the end result. Let me know what you guys think! I’m still trying to figure out where I want to go with the story, but I’ll try to keep updates as consistent as possible.

 Find the prologue here: https://obxwhore.tumblr.com/post/620367150401585152/the-night-it-happened-prologue

Two Years Later; the Winter after the Treasure Hunt.

John B sat in a hammock in front of his house, watching his breath escape his mouth in clouds as it entered the cool air of a North Carolina winter. John B didn’t very much like cold weather, much preferring the feeling of crisp Atlantic waves on a hot summer day. But for some reason, he was content with the icy feeling of this year’s twilight. Perhaps it was because the cold reminded him of emptiness, the feeling that has been stalking him since he and Sarah returned from sea, gold-less. Disappointment flooded his veins every time he looked at a photo of his late father, feeling like a letdown. A failure. Drowning in the idea of what could’ve been. Regardless, the love of his best friends and his girlfriend have kept him afloat. It kept him comfortable.

The voice of his best friend JJ Maybank invaded his ears as he tuned back into the conversation currently being held between the Pogues and Sarah.

“-and when Barry had us all on the side of the road with a gun pointed at us.” JJ said, laughter evading his lips as if the near death experience was the funniest thing to ever happen to him.

“Or when John B literally drove a boat into the middle of a tropical storm.” Pope added.  

“I’m just glad we’re all okay and alive.” John B muttered, not quite in the mood for reminiscing.

“We should go on another adventure,” JJ had a devilish smirk on his face, “I haven’t felt a rush like that since school started back up.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for a good reason.” Kiara added.

“Maybe you should just focus on getting good grades. That should be an adventure all on its own.” John B joked.

“Easy for you to say, high school drop out.” JJ threw back. John B hadn’t actually dropped out, he just opted to take all of his classes online. He couldn’t bear the thought of returning to school, life being just as boring as it was before. So he didn’t. Sarah had bought him a fancy new laptop so that he could get all of his work done and for the most part, he did.

“Think about it guys,” JJ continued, “the Pogues and the Kook, back in action!”

“And what do you suggest we do now? What kind of quest do you see for us, oh wise one?” Pope retorted.

“We could run drugs.” JJ suggested bluntly.

“I think not.” Kiara stated, not amused.

“I don’t think I can afford another ‘quote-on-quote’ adventure. Ever since I was emancipated, Sheriff Shoupe has been up my ass making sure I don’t mess up.” John B added. After the murder charges against John B were dropped, he fought with CPS tooth-and-nail to stay on the island. He got a job at a surf shop and makes just enough money to stay afloat.

Rafe Cameron ended up getting charged with the murder of Sheriff Peterkin and Wade Cameron got charged with the murder of John B’s father, attempted murder on John B, and a few other charges surrounding his involvement with the murder of Peterkin. The trials for the father-and-son duo are still in progress. As a result of Wade’s arrest, no one knows if the gold ever actually made it to Nassau and John B is positive that Wade will never tell him.

“Fine,” JJ huffed, “then I guess I’ll just close my eyes and relive last summer over and over again.”

“I wish Ariana was there to enjoy it with us.” Kiara hadn’t meant to say it out loud, it just slipped. A blanket of solemnness fell over the group as they thought about their missing friend. Sarah looked down, feeling awkward at the mention of the girl that used to be a part of the group. She wished she had been able to get to know Ariana. They had met a few times, but they had never gone past surface level conversation because of the Pogues vs Kooks war. With the way the Pogues talk about her, she was sure they would’ve been great friends.

“I miss her.” JJ added, looking down as if to hide his face from his friends. Everyone agreed with him. Life after Ariana was hollow, but at the same time, they always felt her with them. No matter what they’re doing or how long it’s been, she lives in the back of their heads as a distant memory; a beacon of light when the darkness start to take over. When JJ’s dad unleashes his rage onto him, she is there in his head to tell him that everything is going to be okay. When Pope is thrown around by stray kooks during his grocery runs, she is there in his head to help him fight them off. When Kiara needs someone to talk to, Ari is there to hold her hand and listen to her vent. And finally, when John B is feeling utterly alone, Ariana is there to remind his that he’s not. That’s their friend; not present, but always there.

As the others slowly fluttered back into normal conversation, John B became a victim of his thoughts once again. His mind raced with sporadic images of his lost friend. Flashes of long brown hair, white painted nails, a breathtaking smile. The smell of strawberry shampoo raiding his nostrils as soft arms envelope him in a warm hug. Moments shared between them that he cherished more than anything in the world. His best friend.

A hand creeping onto his own shook him from his thoughts. But as he smiled reassuringly as Sarah, his girlfriend, all he could think about was the smell of strawberries.

•

•

•

Hours have gone by and the group is getting ready to say their goodbyes. The smell of burning wood is starting to give them headaches and it was getting pretty late, the moon shining bright in the sky now. JJ was staying the night at the Chateau, as he usually did. His dad sat like a stick of dynamite back at the Maybank house with JJ being the match needed to light it. Some nights, the blonde boy just couldn’t handle dealing with that. Pope wanted to stay over as well but ever since the event of summer, his dad had tightened the leash considerably. Kiara had to work early the next morning and Sarah felt like John B needed space.

Pope shot up off the hammock with a stretch, a yawn quickly following his movements. Kiara moved towards the radio softly playing music, reaching to turn it off and retire it back to the porch for the night. Unknown to the group, a girl was sluggishly making her way down John B’s street towards to Chateau. The color of crimson caked her face and body like paint on a canvas, fresh blood mixing with old. Dark bruises were polka dots on her body, shades of purple and brown swirling together to create an explosion of circles and handprints. There was dry dirt covering every inch of her body as if she had rolled in it all day.

When she made it to the front yard, she hugged her arms to her chest as the cold of the air began to really take its toll. A deep exhaustion settled on her leaving her ready to collapse, but she was determined to make it back to her friends. She had made it this far so she couldn’t stop now. She finally stumbled into the groups line of vision.

Kiara was the first one to notice. She let out a sharp, loud gasp as her hand flew to cover her mouth in shock. This brought the attention of everyone else. JJ followed her line of vision and has he reached the end, he paled to the color of paper as if he’d just seen a ghost. One-by-one, Pope, Sarah, and John B turned their heads and were greeted with the sight of their missing friend.

Tangled waist length brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, leaves and twigs stuck throughout. She was wearing a white tank top and baggy black pants, no shoes adorning her bare feet. The blood, dirt, and bruises were a plague to her body. She looked like she had literally crawled out of a cheap grave.

“Holy shit” John B took a step forward. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He and the rest of the Pogues had accepted a long time ago that Ariana was most likely dead. It had never seemed probable that she would ever come back, yet here she is.

“Holy shit!” John B repeated, louder this time, as he started to make his way towards the girl. Tears flowed freely down his face as emotions slammed through him. He thought he had lost his best friend forever, but here she was. He shrugged off his jacket, the frigid air giving him goosebumps, but he could not care less.

Once he reached her, he helped her get the jacket on. She started to become overwhelmed now, tears prickling her eyes as she felt warmth for the first time in two years. Everyone had the same feeling pooling through them at the sight of their friend: dread. The state of her being sent shivers down Kiara’s spine and JJ had to literally cover his mouth to keep down the bile that threatened to make itself known.

“What the fuck, Ari?” John B said, sobs racking his body now as he gently grabbed her hand.

“I’m sorry.” Ariana whispered, breaking her silence.

“You’re sorry?” John B questioned in disbelief. He couldn’t believe that she was apologizing for her own abduction, as if it were her fault.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Kiara  added, bringing Ariana’s attention to everyone else once again.

As Ariana looked up at the rest of the group, the vivid emptiness swirling through her eyes hit them like a punch to the face. The once bright emerald eyes that gleamed with excitement were now dulled and clouded. The once strong, independent, free-spirited girl was now just a hollow shell of who she used to be. And as all of this dawned upon them, John B, Pope, Kiara, Sarah, and JJ all had one thought in their minds. They were going to find and kill whoever did this to their friend.

 Taglist: @thelovelydreamer17 @sunshine-27-grape-juice @starswin @minnie-mitzel

[fuzziemutt]

Do You Understand?

Chapter 3/9 - Link to Masterlist in reblog

Summary: Connor makes his move to get away from everyone. This is most certainly a great plan I assure you (/s)

Tw: Mainly unhealthy thinking again. Connor’s main coping mechanism: ignore it.

After a surprisingly decent enough handful of hours of standby, Connor woke up feeling relatively less empty and angry than before. He always woke up a good bit before Hank just to make sure he got up relatively on time and to walk Sumo. Thinking of Sumo made him realize he’ll miss the dog once he moved out this afternoon, but he quickly dismissed that thinking. He was doing this for the best. He got up and entered the bathroom to see if he could find one of his beanies in his personal clothes pile he kept in there to help hide his LED later. Walking past the mirror he took a glance and it really seemed his eyes and brows were stuck just forever looking pissed off. He’ll deal with that later… maybe. Moving back to his objective, he managed to find a grey beanie with black zig zags he swiped and went to try on.  

Connor didn’t mess with his appearance too much following the revolution. He switched his Cyberlife jacket, that he’s pretty sure Hank hid in the house (or burned), with a very similar dark grey blazer recently and a black knee length coat sometimes. He tended to keep wearing button ups (often white, sometimes black or even with a floral pattern) and even wore dark turtlenecks to spice things up with the usual tie, if needed, black jeans and Cyberlife shoes. He liked familiarity and he liked how he looked in what Cyberlife said he looked good in. 

The most drastic change was that he enjoyed changing his hair color quite often. Maybe it was a bit out of a desire to separate himself from Nines since they looked the exact same, height, appearance, build, everything except eyes (and material arguably). He kept getting annoyed by how often they kept getting confused for the other. It didn’t help that Nines ditched his own Cyberlife jacket minutes after deviating. You’d think with how.. Loud… Nine’s fashion tastes were, people would be able to differentiate them better yet it was a constant struggle so he turned to ‘fucking’ with his hair color.

He stared at himself for a few seconds before deciding that he was tired of the default brown again and switched it to the pure white color. He had more colors, most of which he got from messing with his own color coding or from androids who focused on making additional coding to allow more variety in android features, but today white felt fitting. He sort of wished he could change his eye color too, maybe he should ask Simon if anyone… He was getting side tracked again. Trying on the beanie and it seemed everything was good.

He still had plenty of time before Hank’s alarm would initially go off so he busied himself in finding a bag in the garage that let him pack his few possessions into. Really beyond the clothes, he only had a few trinkets like his coin, and a small plush manta ray he got from the aquarium once. He didn’t have a room so he didn’t really have the chance to collect anything. He also went ahead and changed his clothes into a dark blue turtleneck, usual jeans and the knee length coat since those would take up more space to pack. After packing, he hoisted the bag to his shoulder and called Sumo over for their usual walk. They walked to a nearby park where Connor stored his moving bag in the most effective hiding spot before walking back. If he suddenly walked much slower than usual on their way back, Sumo didn't comment about it.

Just as he was done taking care of Sumo and putting away the leash, he heard the tell tale sound of Hank’s alarm going off. He got a coffee mug down before heading towards the bedroom where angry grumbling could be heard. Knocking on the door with an ‘I’m up! I’m up, asshole’ in response satisfied him enough to return to the kitchen and grab himself a cup for a quick thirium top off. He could have packed it, but then he wouldn’t have any here in case of emergencies. He could just get some more from the DPD anyways or even New Jericho if he really needed it. 

He looked up from his cup as Hank shambled his way to the bathroom. Connor felt his lips give the little odd quirk that represented a smile according to Cyberlife but immediately lost it when it reminded him of yesterday. And he was doing so well keeping his mind off it. Oh well. 

After some time, Hank finally joined him in the kitchen, mostly dressed and mostly awake. Hank started wearing his hair in a ponytail lately given his refusal to cut his mop of hair, but needing to look more “professional” now that he wasn’t showing up to work hungover every day. 

“What color we going for today?” Hank asked, voice still gruff as he set about getting coffee and cereal. Connor tended to wear the beanie to surprise others on the color of the week especially if he was trying out a very notable color like the time he went neon pink. It had ulterior motives today, but Hank didn’t need to know that.

“Now now Hank. No peeking. You don’t get special privileges,” Connor teased, moving to wash his now empty cup. Connor knew his voice didn’t give insight to his internal turmoil, but it seemed Hank caught onto Connor’s new predicament with his “expressive” eyes. However, he didn’t say anything, only grunting in response and turning away. Connor wondered what the Lieutenant knew or what he picked up from him in those couple of moments. 

They only made some more small chatter and a quick Sumo petting before heading on out to the DPD. Connor felt a bit weird not telling Hank that he was moving out, but he didn’t want his friend to question his decisions or whatever he would worry he would do. He honestly wasn’t sure why he felt adamant in not telling him. It would honestly worry the old man more, if he just up and left, but something stopped him from saying anything. He felt like Hank also knew there was something he wasn’t saying, but he didn’t seem to push Connor to admit whatever thoughts were circling in this mess of a CPU he had for what humans would consider a brain. It didn’t matter much as before he knew it, they had arrived at work. 

Logically, Connor knew Nines would be here. He’s been working with the other android for a couple months now already. Usually he would speak to him before Hank actually felt like doing any work to pass the time. Therefore, he shouldn’t have been so shocked to see the RK900 sitting at his usual desk next to Gavin Reed. Yet here he was, lagging a couple seconds behind the Lieutenant just staring at Nines. Of course, nothing else showed on his face as per usual, but he didn’t doubt it was odd to see Connor suddenly switch to a slower walking pace as he seemed to glare daggers at his look alike. 

Nines immediately noticed his presence and smiled very awkwardly, unlike the usual friendly grin, while waving at him. Connor’s new found emote of “fuck you” seemed to make Nines very unsure in how to proceed given how much his eyes looked around as if trying to find a solution to the problem that is Connor’s existence. Before he could find something to do, Connor sped back up and beelined to his own desk. He quickly sat down and placed his hand on his terminal to effectively cut off any attempt to conversate. 

“Who pissed in your cheerios?” Hank commented from his side, scrolling through his phone. His head was being propped up by the hand of the elbow planted firmly on his desk, but his eyes stared watchfully at Connor.

“I can not eat, Lieutenant,” Connor helpfully reminded him. He was just trying to dodge any sort of questioning, but he couldn’t think of a proper work around while the anger that flared up earlier still clouded his circuits. 

“Just an expression. And you’re definitely more pissey than usual,” Hank said, his expression and voice seemingly bored and tired even if he still kept a close eye on Connor. Connor merely looked up at him and purposefully raised a single eyebrow to make the human elaborate. 

“First, Nines looks like a fucking kicked puppy right now and that’s not even mentioning how you skipped your morning talks with him,” a quick glance over and Connor could confirm Nines was looking everything like a “kicked puppy” as Hank said, “second, you haven’t even taken your beanie off and you usually do that first thing in because lets face it you’re a bit of an attention whore.” 

Connor blinked realizing he was right, he knew Hank was more teasing on that last part, but he couldn’t deny it. The guarded look slid back into place as Connor stared at Hank, waiting for him to say anything else. He wasn’t sure why, but he just had to make sure Hank wasn’t trying to trick him despite Connor revealing his different hair color multiple times before. This was silly he finally thought and just went ahead to tug the beanie off, quickly fixing his hair afterwards too.

Hank was also right that the officers who commented on his hair instantly filled him with that desire for praise he never could seem to muffle, left gaping when Amanda was effectively blocked from his systems. And of course, he preened a bit upon feeling a bit better refusing to acknowledge the knowing look in Hank’s eyes and forcing himself to focus on his work once more.  

-

Today wasn’t too busy of a day surprisingly. It was more reports that Connor could let himself absentmindedly work through as he was preoccupied by how he would decorate his apartment and what furniture he should get. They only had to leave once for a crime scene involving a dispute between a human and an android that led to a dead human and heavily injured android. There were always android and human murders him, Hank, Nines and a couple other officers constantly dealt with, but the rate seemed to be settling down to a more “normal” consistency. It angered Connor that it was still such a problem, but all he could do was help where he could on this end. The android consented to a look into their recorded memories to know what happened while they were whisked away for repairs. Pretty easy day all things considered. 

Either way, Connor didn’t even fully realize their shift was over, busy thinking of if he’d prefer blue or purple curtains, until Hank started getting up and stretching after turning off his computer. Connor found that after deviating he couldn’t quite keep his attention on what he wanted to anymore. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it at all, he just found his mind tended to wander more easily, especially doing things that didn’t require much of his attention. He also abruptly remembered that he needed to go grab his moving bag and head to the apartment for the move in. So he set about shutting his work down as well. 

Nines perked up from his desk in hearing their shuffling; he even was about to start getting up from his desk it seemed. Connor quickly snatched his beanie and any other personal items he might need before practically booking it, without running, towards the entrance. He didn’t even glance behind him to see if Hank was following or if Nines was following either. Nines was the slightest bit faster than him so he could have caught up with only slight effort if he wanted so Connor was hoping he’d take a hint and leave him alone at least another day more. He didn’t stop his very enthusiastic speed walking until he was almost at Hanks’ car in which he remembered he couldn’t go home with Hank and sort of awkwardly leaned against the car to wait for Hank to catch up. Thankfully, it looked like Nines took the hint when all he saw was Hank almost speed walking towards him with a frown.

“Wanna explain why the fuck it seems you were running for the speed walking Olympics back there,” Hank immediately groaned out when he was close to the car. He was slightly out of breath.

“Nope,” was Connor’s reply. Simple and not sweet but sweet.

“Uh huh.. then do you want to talk about how it seemed this Olympic was being founded on avoiding Nines as much as inhumanly possible?” Hank asked next, crossing his arms and raising a judgmental bushy brow down on Connor. 

“I wasn’t avoiding him,” Connor’s eyes not looking at Hank and voice too defensive to be legit. Damn. It seems whatever happened yesterday in the taxi was still affecting him. How annoying.

“Yeah no. I’m not believing that for a second,” Hank seemed to be glaring at him harder. Connor didn’t feel pressured or stressed by it, but it was also annoying him that Hank wasn’t dropping this. 

“We had a fight yesterday, it’s no big deal,” Connor easily lied again looking Hank in the eye this time. Hank seemed to not be convinced, but Connor knew he didn’t know enough about whatever “fight” occurred to tell how much Connor was lying. 

Hank’s shoulder slumped a bit as it seemed he was giving up the chase for now. “Fine. That’s fair. Sometimes, friends fight, I won’t push you on it, but do talk to Nines about whatever the hell happened so he stops looking so mopey.” 

Connor felt a flicker of jealousy again at the reaffirmation on how clearly Nines emoted compared to him. But he didn’t say anything, only nodding even if he had no plans to talk to Nines (or really anyone) if he didn’t have to. Connor is going to use this ignore method for as long as it works damn it. 

“So uh.. You getting into the car?...” Hank awkwardly commented as he made his way to the driver’s side. Oh. That other thing needs to be dealt with now. Right. Connor will miss driving to work with Hank… that’s besides the point. Hank wouldn’t care if he rode with him or not anyways since he saw Connor as a machine still.

“Oh. I’m actually going to be heading to New Jericho to further discuss what we talked about yesterday. I’ll be taking a taxi don’t worry,” Connor attempted to order his face to give a reassuring smile but Hank’s subtle cringe affirmed that it was not giving its intended effects and he immediately dropped it. 

“You sure you don’t want me to just drop you off? It’s not that big of a deal,” suspicion lingered in Hank’s eyes as he stared at Connor from inside the car. Hm. Not good if Hank was already catching that something was off. He really did not give the old geezer enough credit.

“It’s fine. The discussion involved what we should be doing about androids who react very negatively towards humans still. I’m not sure if allowing you to accompany me this time would be a good idea especially as I’m not sure how much information about that discussion has been passed around since then,” Connor began to wonder if lying was going to start becoming his life at this point with how much he’s done it in the past day alone. 

“Hmm.. fair point, alrighty. Stay safe out there, kid,” Hank backed off but Connor could still see the suspicion in his eyes. This will appease the Lieutenant for now but just for now. Connor will figure something out for a more permanent solution later. He was relying on the others not communicating between themselves too much.

After saying his goodbyes, Connor walked towards another automated taxi and got in. He set the path to the park he hid his bag in and placed the beanie back on his head to make sure his LED was hidden. It didn’t take long to retrieve it from the dense bushes, glad that the park didn’t get many people at this hour from how suspicious that looked, and immediately reentered the taxi. He did chuckle a bit at how funny it would have been if he had gotten arrested then but shook it off. A few more minutes and he stood in front of his new “home”. It wasn’t the worst, a bit worse for wear, definitely hasn’t been cleaned since the 80s he’d take a guess. Most of the apartments appeared to be empty which was good. Connor didn’t want to befriend any neighbors. They’d just get fed up with him anyways like the others.

[hawkinspostbite]

BURN THE WITCH - chapter two

Words: 3,793

MASTERLIST BURN THE WITCH

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.

Jim had fucked up. In the scheme of things, this wasn’t a royally huge fuck-up; he’d definitely fucked up a lot during his lifetime, but as of that moment, it was pretty important.

It wasn’t the first time he had been late getting home, or broken a promise, he was sure that Anna was used to it by now, but he knew that El had yet to get used to his usual routine. He was never really good at honoring commitments, although, recently he had been trying to make a better habit of doing the opposite. It was turning out to be harder than anticipated.

They sky had grown dark by the time he had finished flagging the land at Eugene’s farm. Eugene and his son and grandchildren had gone back to the house for supper while it was still light out. But it wasn’t until that time, when it was already too late, when Jim had realized he screwed up.

He had made it across town in record time, pretty much breaking every local law in the process. He all but ran up the leaf-covered path to the tiny cabin he called home. He rapped on the door, giving the “secret knock” twice before sighing. “Hey, girls. Open up, alright. Look, I know I’m late… I’ve got candy here, I’ve got all the good stuff.”

No response.

He smacked the door with his palm, growing frustrated. “Please, will you open the door? I’m gonna freeze to death out here!”

Jim heard the locks click, and he rushed inside, closing the door behind him. He scanned the room. The television was out of place, the long cord stretching the length of the living room, and under the door of his daughter’s bedroom. He rolled his eyes, setting the plastic pumpkin filled with candy he had bribed from Eugene’s youngest grandson, down on the coffee table. “Girls, open up, would you? I got stuck somewhere and lost track of time. And I’m sorry.”

Silently, he wished the girls would open their door, but he also would one-hundred-percent understand if they didn’t. Anna had inherited her father’s attitude, as well as his stubbornness, work ethic, and knack for finding trouble. She was a tough nut to crack. She never backed down from a fight or an argument, never let people push her around, and if she had an opinion, she was certain it was heard. Yes, she was definitely his child. (And he secretly was thankful that she favored more after him than her mother because he wasn’t sure he could go through that experience all over again.)

“El, Anna, would you please open the door?”

No response. They were nothing if not consistent.

He sighed, turning around and plopping himself rather dramatically onto the couch. He sighed again, leaning forward to grab the pumpkin from the table. “Alright… I’m just gonna be out here by myself, eating all this candy. I’m gonna get fat… It’s very unhealthy to leave me out here.” In the process of his rant, he began to unwrap a Reese’s cup. “I could have a heart attack or something. But you know, do what you want.”

Rolling his eyes, he flicked the candy wrapper onto the floor, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He had no room to say anything. He couldn’t blame them for not wanting anything to do with him. He had crossed them for the last time (for the time being).

Jim sat in the living room, the muffled sound of the television coming from the girls’s room playing softly in the background of the silence, for quite awhile. After a few hours at least, he decided to stop his moping, for he would never win the game, especially when it was two against one, and turn in for the night.

He turned the lamps off, made sure all the locks on the door were locked, and retreated to his bedroom.

Jim awoke the next morning, slightly shocked to not find Anna on the couch. That’s where she was most mornings when he woke up, that or in the kitchen getting a head-start on breakfast. But today, she was neither place. She was clearly, as he learned the older she got, very good at holding grudges.

He got himself dressed, made two stacks of Eggos, topped with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream and broken-up pieces of Halloween candy, and then went to wake up the girls. “Rise and shine.” He knocked on the door. He had been trying to not enter without warning, or not enter at all, as a promise to work on giving them more privacy. Another hard habit to break.

Still no response.

He knew that Eleven practically woke with the sun, so there was no way she wasn’t awake. “So that’s it huh, still not talking?”

Silence, once again. “Alright. I guess I’m just gonna have to eat both of these triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas on my own.”

He turned back towards the kitchen, and then he heard the door creak open behind him. “No Anna?” He asked, when he saw that only the younger of the two girls had appeared.

She shook her head, and followed him to the table, where there were, in fact, two triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas on the table. “Anna, if you aren’t out here within the next thirty seconds, I’m eating your food.” He called.

Jim waited patiently, giving her a minute, rather than thirty seconds, and then began to cut into the first stack of waffles, sliding the second towards Eleven. “Alright then, your loss!” He called again. “Ya brat.” He mumbled.

“Brat?” Eleven asked, dipping her finger into the whipped cream.

He sighed. “Brat, “a badly-behaved child”. Anna would be a prime example. Now, dig in.” He had attempted to keep it as light-hearted as possible when Eleven was around. She had spent her whole life thus-far being terrified of everyone and everything and as hard as it would be, he was determined to make her feel safe. “Mmm! Mmm! It’s good right?”

Eleven raised her eyebrows at him as she bit into a piece of one of her waffles. “Oh, and you know the great thing about it, is that it’s only like eight-thousand calories.” He laughed at himself.

Eleven gave him a questioning look. His humor was often lost on her.

He turned to look, once again at the television cable that led into her room. “You visited him again last night?”

Eleven looked at the cable as well, then back at Hopper. “He says he needs me.” She said lowly, taking another bite of her breakfast.

“Want me to go check on him?” Jim asked.

She shook her head.

“I know that you miss him, alright. But it’s too dangerous. You’re the last thing he needs right now. You’re gonna see him, soon. And not just in that head of your’s, in real life- I feel like I’m making progress with these people.”

“Friends don’t lie.” Eleven said quietly.

He felt like she was looking into his soul.

“What?”

“You say “soon” on day twenty-one. You say “soon” on day two-hundred and five. You now say “soon” on day three-hundred and twenty-six-“

The way the conversation was going, it felt eerily familiar to the way most conversations with Anna went, from the ages of twelve to fifteen. It was like she had groomed Eleven to be able to handle this exact situation, exactly the way she would have at that age. “What is this, you’re counting the days like you’re some sort of prisoner?”

She ignored him. “When is soon?”

“Soon is when it’s not dangerous anymore.”

“When?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“On day five-hundred?”

“I don’t know.”

“On day six-hundred?”

“I don’t know.” He had to stand his ground. He couldn’t loose his footing with this one.

“On day seven-hundred? Day eight-hundred?”

“I don’t know!”

“I need to see him!”

“I said, I don’t know!”

“Tell me!” Eleven shouted, nodding her head and sending both plates into his lap.

“Shit!” There was whipped cream and candy all down the front of his uniform. He jumped up, and quickly turned to look at the girls’s bedroom door. He had expected Anna to make an appearance after all the commotion, but she still didn’t.

“Friends don’t lie!” The girl stood up, challenging him, before storming across the room back into the bedroom, the door opening and closing with a wave of her hand.

“Shit!” He said again, as he began to clean up the mess his youngest child had made. Between cleaning up Eleven’s mess, and having the change his entire uniform, he was going to be late, that was inevitable.

“When I come home tonight, the T.V better be back out here, and you’d both had better loose your attitudes, or I’m gonna start cracking some skulls, you hear me?” He had shouted at the closed bedroom door on his way onto the porch.

Jim hadn’t actually meant he would physically crack their skulls, though he imagined that he had just scared El half-to-death with his figure of speech. Anna would know what he meant, and then explain it to the her.

On his short drive to work he began plotting his punishments for each child, had they not done what he said by that evening; For Anna, no going out on the weekend for at least a month, she would help volunteer at one of the pumpkin-patches or the library or something like that. And for El, he’d have to somehow disconnect the antenna for the television, because that was that girl’s vice.

As usual, he made quite the commotion upon arrival at the Hawkins police department, slamming doors, trying to lock repeat-offender Murray outside, roughly hanging his coat up, just a normal morning.

The first order of business was trying to track the pumpkin patch rot, on a map. “We found more out by Gilbert’s farm.” Powell said, leaning off the table he was sitting on to point to the general direction on the map.

Jim nodded, making an X on the map with his marker. “Some real nasty stuff. It was sticky.” Callahan said.

“Alright, where else?” He turned to look at his fellow officers.

“That was it Chief.” Powell shrugged, looking down at the small piece of paper in his hand.

“That was it, or you got tired of looking?”

“It was getting dark.” Powell said, posing the statement more like a question.

“I mean, it was really dark.” Callahan backed him up.

“They’re called flashlights, you dipshits.” He snapped, turning back to examine the map.

“Oh, okay…” Callahan muttered. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Kid giving you problems, Chief?”

Hopper tuned out his co-workers, staring at the map. He tried to recognize a pattern in the rot locations, or at least some focus-point to where they could start an investigation. Suddenly, he ripped it off of the wall, pushing Callahan off the table, and laying it down flat for them to see overhead. He took a red marker, drawing three circles around the areas of the rot. At the center of the smallest circle, was Hawkins Lab.

Without a word, he grabbed the map, folding it and grabbing his coat. “Hey Chief, where are you going?” He ignored Powell’s question as Flo, not even looking up from her work, handed him the keys to his truck. “You want us to go back out there?”

Where was he going? He was going back to that fucking lab. That dreaded place, that, between the appointments he attended with Joyce for Will, “business” meetings, and general law check-ups, had basically become his second home.

Without a word, he was let through the gates, in the front doors, and straight up the stairs and into Dr. Owens’s office. “Sit down, I’ve gotta show you something.”

He slammed the map onto Owens desk, quickly explaining the story of the poisoned crops on various farms within the area. “Grass, crops, trees, everything in this area is either dead or dying. That’s a radius of over three miles. And it all leads back to here.” Jim pointed to the lab in the center circle on the map.

“See, these patterns here are really pretty. I like the design. It’s almost psychedelic.”

Owens was attempting to make a joke out of the situation. Hopper didn’t find it funny. “This is a joke to you, huh?”

“No, it’s not a joke, it’s just- I don’t understand what this has to do with me Chief.”

“Whatever’s happening is spreading from this place. From this lab.” Growing increasingly more agitated, Jim sat down in the office chair.

“That’s impossible. The last burn was two days ago. It’s contained.”

“What if there’s a leak?”

“A leak?” Owens scoffed.

“I don’t know, man! You’re the scientist!”

“Exactly.” Owens slid the map back towards Hopper. “And I’m telling you, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Convince me.” Jim challenged.

“Convince you?”

“Yeah, you and your egg-head friends, go out to every area on this map, you run your tests, or whatever the hell you do, and you see if anything comes up.”

Owens laughed. “Alright, so you’re giving me orders now? No.” He shook his head. “That’s not how this works.”

“I keep things nice and quiet for you. And you keep your shit out of my town, so I can keep my kid safe! That is the deal! I have done my part, now you do your’s. Convince me.” Hopper slid the map back towards Owens, before storming out of his office. “I’m gonna assume you’re following me!”

Hopper stood proudly as he watched Owens gather a team of his colleagues/employees, and pile them into hospital vans. They set out for Merrill’s farm, as it was the closest to the lab.

Owens stood with the chief as they watched men dressed head-to-toe in full hazmat suits, dig up chunks of soil, and take whole pumpkins for testing. “Well, you were right about these pumpkins. Some nasty stuff. And the smell, mother of God-“

“So what exactly do you think is going on here?” Jim asked.

“Well, I told you what I think.” Owens looked at him, catching his glare. “But, we’ll run the tests and see what comes up. In the meantime, I just need you to keep the area clear for us. Don’t think it’ll be more than a day or two.”

“What do you want me to tell people?”

Owens shrugged, turning to face him fully. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” He patted him on the arm, before walking to his car, getting in it, and driving away.

“Hey, chief, you copy?” Powell’s voice on his walkie broke him from his trance.

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember that Russian girl Murray was goin on about the other day?”

Jesus Christ.

“Yeah, well now I’m thinking he’s not so crazy after all.” Powell finished.

Hopper’s voice quieted. “Stay where you are. Do. Not. Move.” He almost broke into a sprint as he raced to get to his truck, barely shutting the door before he was speeding to the location Powell said he and Callahan were at.

Once he arrived at the scene, he had the woman re-tell her story. “You don’t need to make a report on this, there wasn’t a crime committed.” He told Callahan as he walked towards the mother and daughter.

“It was a young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, short, curly brown hair, very soft-spoken. She had a grey shirt on, with jeans and a brown coat.”

“What did she say? Did she say anything to you?”

“She just asked where the school was. So I pointed her in that direction and by the time I turned around to look at her again, she was gone.”

“Did she do anything to hurt you, or scare you? Cause you any harm?”

“No. No, it just shocked me to see a girl alone in the woods in the middle of the day.”

“Thank you, thanks, my officers will handle it from here. Appreciate your time.” He didn’t need any more clues to tell him that El had left the house. He should’ve known it was coming sooner or later, but for her to be so careless, it was almost ridiculous.

He left the scene before Powell or Callahan could even say goodbye, and drove straight home.

That was it. She had pushed him right over the edge. The situation was not unfamiliar. He had spent many nights in the past two years sitting up, angrily waiting for Anna to return after she had snuck out. He began to wonder if these were things that all children did, or was it just his two, that somehow, although having entirely different childhoods, managed to put him through the exact same scenarios repeatedly.

When he got there, Anna’s car was parked in the same spot it always was, almost looking untouched. So at least he knew Angry-Thing-One was home. He didn’t even bother to go inside because he knew he would just break something out of frustration. And Anna would know he was home because she most likely heard him pacing back and forth on the porch.

Jim smoked four cigarettes in a row before he heard the sound of leaves crunching in the dark. As El came into view, she stopped, and the two stared at each other for a moment, before she began to walk towards the house. He outed his cigarette, silently preparing for the battle he was about to engage in.

She walked into the house, with not a word spoken. And he followed right after her, slamming the door in his wake. “Friends don’t lie, isn’t that your bullshit saying?” He whipped his hat off of his head, throwing it onto the couch. “Hey, hey, hey! Don’t walk away from me!”

He managed to step in front of her before she could open the door to her bedroom. “Where’d you go on your little field trip, huh? Where?” El removed her coat, silently walking to hang it on a hook on the coat rack. “Did you go to see Mike?”

“He didn’t see me.”

“Yeah, well that mother and her daughter did, and they called the cops.” He was still blocking the bedroom door. “Now, did anyone else see you? Anyone at all?” He was met with silence. “Come on! I need you to think!”

“Nobody saw me!”

He began to pace, trying to direct her away from the bedroom door. She couldn’t keep retreating from their fights. Fights she had started. “You put us in danger. You realize that, right? You, me, Anna, we’re all in danger!”

“You promised I go.” Tears were now pooling in the young girl’s eyes. “And I never leave! Nothing ever happens!”

Once again, Jim had fully expected Anna to be out of her room by now, playing mediator and watching her young protege in action, but alas, not a peep of sound came from inside the room. “Yeah, nothing happens, and you stay safe!”

“You lie!”

“I don’t lie! I protect, and I feed, and I teach! And all I ask of you is three simple rules, three rules. And you know what? You can’t even do that!” It had now turned into a screaming match, and he wasn’t quite sure who would win.

He turned to walk into the kitchen and El smacked her fists onto the wall. “You’re grounded. You know what that means?” His planning from that morning were finally coming into fruition. “It means no Eggos-“ He opened the freezer, and grabbed the box of food, throwing it onto the floor. “And no T.V, for a week.”

He stormed over to the television, which was now back in it’s proper spot in the living room. He leaned over the back of it, attempting to unplug it from the wall, when an unseen force halted his hand. “Alright, knock it off, let go.” El was standing in front of her bedroom door, head bowed slightly, a stream of blood running from her nostril.

She shook her head.

He attempted to unplug the television again, but was stopped. “Okay, two weeks.” He tried to unplug it again. “Let go!”

Once again, she shook her head.

“A month.”

“No.” Eleven demanded.

“Well congratulations.” Jim turned back to the T.V. “You just graduated from no T.V for a month, to no T.V at all.” He caught her off-guard, unplugging the cord from the wall and quickly taking out his pocket-knife, cutting through it.

“No!” El shouted, rushing over to attempt and save her beloved television. She kept muttering “no” to herself as she tried to fix it.

Hopper took a moment to ground himself, reminding himself that he was not only dealing with a child, but a child with psionic abilities that had been spending an awful lot of time with his daughter. “You have got to understand that there are consequences to your actions.”

“You are like papa!” El turned to him angrily.

“Really, I’m like that psychotic son of a bitch?” He sighed, still trying to remind himself who he was dealing with. “Wow, okay. You wanna go back in that lab? One phone call, I can make that happen.”

“I hate you.” Tears were running down her cheeks.

“Yeah, well I’m not too crazy about you either. You know why, cause you’re a brat. Remember what that word means?” El was almost stunned by him. “You don’t? How about we look it up, B-R-A-T, brat.”

He tossed the book in the air, towards her, but with one swipe of her hand, it was suspended in mid-air. She flung it at him. “Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?” He began to walk towards her but she had now pushed the couch into his legs, almost knocking him over. “Hey, hey!”

El knocked over the book case outside of her and Anna’s bedroom. “Stop walking away from me!” She turned to walk towards her bedroom door, but her need for confrontation got the better of her and she stopped.

Tears were now running rampant down her cheeks. “You wanna go out in the world? You’d better grow up, grow the hell up!”

El’s hands were shaking, as she let out a monstrous shriek, every window in the cabin blew out, glass flying everywhere. Sobbing, she pushed past him and into the bedroom, not bothering to shut the door all the way.

Furious, and not backing down from the fight, Jim followed her, slamming the door open.

And then he felt his heart sink.

Eleven was the only other person in the room.

So where the hell was Anna?

[punkgrogg]

Bakugou has a big heart pt.3

Pairing: Bakugou/Ojiro, Bakugou/Jirou, Bakugou/Eijrou

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none :)

Summary: Bakugou is in his second year and he’s not very good at dealing with his emotions

Length:1,454

Notes: Bakugou does in fact NOT know what friendship is so take that as some foreshadowing if you will. Also, this was supposed to be Kiri-centric but Kouda said it's my mfing bonding time with Bakugou. sidenote-Grammarly won't let me write Kouda so it's Koda throughout the chapter, my apologies.

Saturday seemed as boring as any other day if you were to ask Bakugou himself. The class was dispersed across the common area and a few cooped up in their rooms. Typically, during the weekends, they would all wordlessly break off into groups but today they were all intermingling to relax after the big exam that Present Mic had given so they wouldn’t have it next month with the rest of the school’s midterms. Bakugou was calmly slicing up the various fruits Denki and Sero piled up in front of his chopping board. Mina stood to his right, dutifully scooping up the cubes once he reached for another fruit and tossing them into the large mixing bowl. They were making an extravagant fruit salad in his opinion but it was the snack Mina was whining for and who was he to deny his friend?

The salad consisted of strawberries, peaches, apples, green grapes, and watermelon so far. He was finishing up on a couple of mangoes when he heard the sacrilegious suggestion of marshmallows behind him. He froze and glared over his shoulder to Kirishima the offender. Quietly, Kirishima hid the pink and orange-filled bag behind his back before stepping away from the counter.

“What do you got against marshmallows?” Sero snickered as he added a couple of bananas to the pile of pomegranates and dragon fruit.

“They are fucking disgusting tape face. Why would we put that sugar monstrosity if we’re already eating sweet shit.” he all but snarled, chopping a bit harder than was necessary.

“I think it’d taste good, Kiri I’ll eat them with you.” Denki clapped the redhead on the shoulder before taking the bag out of his hands and popping a couple in his mouth.

“Thanks, Bro, my mom puts them and a little cream in hers. It tastes great!” Kiri’s smile was blinding as he threw an arm around the smaller blonde. Bakugou huffed before holding his hand out for the offensive bag of marshmallows. Grinning like he won something, Denki handed over the bag wordlessly as he passed to Bakugou. The platinum blonde glared down at the bag before shoving it at Mina.

Mina giggled as she poured the bag, “Aw, Bakugou how sweet of you.”

The glare he gave her make the Bakusquad burst out in laughter. He pointedly ignored them as he focused on skinning the dragon fruit. After all five dragon fruit were skinned he chopped them in a flurry of white, purple, and silver. And while he was ripping apart the pomegranates he finally tuned into the conversation flowing around him, they were deliberating on their answers on the last prompt on the exam. For the life of him, he honestly wouldn’t be able to remember what he wrote.

All of this week he’d been stuck in his head, Ojiro plagued his thoughts for the first half of the week. Then Wednesday’s epiphany that he was just not used to caring so much for his friends -he was sucked even deeper - but he worked hard to bring back normal. Well, as normal as he could manage with his new mindset. After dinner on Wednesday, he had holed himself up in his room and researched how to be a good friend. Insults were not the best option when referring to his friends, he could remember the hurt faces his classmates had last year when he met them, so he’s been trying to at least take the sting out of his nicknames. Shitty hair turned to red and Dunce face to sparky. Those names weren’t inherently bad-right?

He also read that he should listen more to their opinions and spend more quality time with them. And gods was he trying, Denki liked to dance along the thin line that was his patience, he has managed to blow up only once while they were cramming two nights ago. He would call this all a success and he saw firsthand how they opened up even more to him. Kaminari and Mina were more clingy than usual and Sero made even more snarky jokes than he used to. Not only his closest friends noticed his change though. Iida hasn’t had to get on him as much and instead of chastising him yesterday he’d walked back to the dorms with him after class and asked him to join his study group with Momo and Todoroki. Jirou, Hagakure, and Asui even pulled him over this morning to eat breakfast with them.

The hardest part was trying to keep his composure; when Sero would laugh he wanted to smile but the joke wasn’t even that funny. Mina was probably one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen and he could barely keep the blush off his face when she teased him. Friendship was hard he concluded.

After slicing up the bananas while he was deep in thought, he went to clean up but Sero pushed him away from the sink insisting on cleaning up since he hadn’t help thus far. Kaminari was pouring cream into the giant mixing bowl as Mina vigorously stirred.

He couldn't help but cross his arms with a sigh. “They’re going to smash the bananas and dragon fruit if they aren’t careful,” he couldn’t help but grumble.

“You know man, I think you’ve been real manly this year,” Kirishima said with a dopey smile as he leaned on the counter.

“What are you talking about red? I’ve always been manly.” He replied with a puffed-out chest.

“Yeah, but it’s because that you’re finally getting closer to us all. That ups your manliness.” Kiri nodded sagely as if he was relaying one of the eight noble truths. Bakugou could feel the heat making its way to his cheeks and by gods, he was not about to let Kirishima see it. He scoffed and quickly turned to the cabinet that held probably a hundred bowls, throwing it open, he grabbed a stack in each hand before stalking over to the dining area. Placing the bowls down gently was a struggle as he fought with the blush overtaking his face. He pulled out a chair before falling heavily into it while he managed a few calming breaths. The rest of his squad followed shortly, each one with their hands full. Sero and Denki carried drinks for the group, Kiri had forks, and Mina precariously held the giant bowl of fruit.

“FOOD IS READY,” Bakugou yelled towards the crowded common area before handing out bowls to the group that was already seated. Mina scooped out some for each member of her squad before relinquishing the bowl to the disjointed line of their classmates.

The table in the dining room was long enough for the entirety of the class to sit together but a few preferred to sit at the bar in the kitchen or even the couches. Bakugou was seated near the head of the table, Mina taking the head seat and Sero sitting to Bakugou’s right. Kiri and Denki sat across from him and Sero. Today it seemed the rest of the class wanted to sit with them too, only Todoroki and Satou missing from the table. Both never came down from their rooms, Bakugou thought idly. Kouda timidly took the seat next to Bakugou and that made Bakugou smile internally. He wasn’t loud and respected Bakugou’s boundaries better than the asses across the table.

Said asses were yelling down the table to the rest of the class so Bakugou focused on eating his fruit salad. He pushed all the sticky marshmallows to the side and glanced up to see Koda barely picking at his bowl. He held a smile while signing to Shoji across the table, JSL was something Bakugou didn’t know. He had never really thought about it, when he and Koda had been paired in the past two years, Koda would speak to him but it was through barely audible whispers. Bakugou could see the way he animatedly signed - something he had never seen before on the boy and it made his stomach knot.

He was a hero and he couldn’t even communicate with his classmate in a way that he preferred. He was an ass who made Koda accommodate him when he should’ve already know sign language. How could he expect to save someone who could only rely on JSL?

“Bakugou?” The whispering of his name broke Bakugou out of his self-torment and he realized that he had been staring.

“Oh, Sorry. I want to learn sign language, would you be willing to help me?” Koda couldn’t help but show the shock on his face which made the knot in Bakugou’s stomach tighter. And the tentative nod made the blonde smile.

“Thanks, man.”

[knight-ingale]

Chapter 3, Angels

A/n: I... wrote this in like... three-four hours. Thanks again to my lovely editor friend, who took the time to look over this even though she had an appointment in two hours that I wasn’t aware of! Love her to death!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---~---~---~---~--- *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Bella watched with what was probably an abnormal amount of interest as the horrendously perfect and angelic quintet made their way to a table in the corner of the cafeteria, far away from your own table on the other side of the long room. It occurred to you that if this was an intersecting line graph, they would be an exterior angle to match you, not that it mattered.

As you studied the five of them, you realized their nearly fantastical beauty wasn’t the only thing that made them stand out with such contrast. Three out of the five of them didn’t look anything like highschoolers, more akin to graduating college students or teachers, student teachers at the youngest. 

The first person you noticed was the tall blonde who clearly surpassed six foot in height in wedged-heel boots. She was absolutely gorgeous, heart-stoppingly so. She had shining, wavy golden hair that flipped ever-so-slightly at the end in the middle of her back that contrasted heavily with her dark, nearly coal colored irises. Another ridiculously perfect part of her was her picturesque body. A perfect hourglass paired with an equally amazing pair of legs, which looked amazing in the just above knee-length skirt she wore with the boots. She looked… well, beyond words, really. 

The next you focused on was also female, and the last girl, who was also bordering magical in her appearance, despite the polarizing styles. She was dressed more simply than her counterpart, but no less beautiful, and was her opposite in many ways. Small and slight in the way that had almost had you worried for her health, bordering faery-like in image. Her dark hair was cropped far above her shoulders, slightly spiked out in a way that looked like a mess but in the best way anyone could hope for. She seemed to be the shortest of the group as well.

By the time all of the students had sat down, you were onto the third, a ridiculously huge boy with curly black hair. Seriously, this guy was enormous, capping his height at over six feet easily, maybe six and a half feet. He was still ever-so-slightly taller than the gorgeous blonde girl.

Another blonde, speaking of, was a boy. Shorter than the ridiculously muscular boy and the blonde girl, which he slightly resembled in hair color, but certainly taller than the faery girl. His hair was blonde, like the Victoria’s Secret Angel worthy girl, but his hair was a deeper shade of honey rather than bright, nearly gaudy gold.

The last student was also the last boy who held a younger visage compared to the high schoolers around him. He was less bulky compared to the other two boys and was slightly shorter than the blonde, making him the second shortest in a theoretical line-up of heights. The only noticeable trait to you was his auburn hair, which shone in the horrible fluorescent lights with a nearly mystical copper quality.

All of these supposed high schoolers, you still couldn’t believe that, looked absolutely worn, like they had stayed up for three or more all-nighters to finish a group project. The dark semicircles that lined the lower lids of each pair of eyes contrasted with the extreme paleness of their faces. Were the five of them a club consisting of those with extreme anemia or something? They looked almost like printer paper, even paler than your notably pale sister Bella. You break your probably intense gaze away from the table of strangers to lean over to Jessica, 

“Hey, Jessica,” you call. You get her attention easily as she looks to you. “Who are they?” you ask. She looks over to Bella, easily following her gawking to the table of divine looking students and giggles. You look back with Jessica quick enough to see the bronze-haired boy look up in masked curiosity, dark eyes flickering from Jessica, you, and then your sister. He looks away before you can reflexively look away in embarrassment, but you all do anyway. Jessica giggles again, 

“That’s Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen-” You hadn’t even noticed her leave, now that you realized she was gone. You had turned around for hardly a moment! She must be fast as hell. “They all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife,” she says under her breath. 

“What’s her name?” you ask quietly, “The doctor’s wife, I mean.” 

“Esme, I think? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her, but my mom has, she works at the bank. She says she’s really pretty and nice.” Jessica raises her eyebrows, “But most people are that way in public, so who really knows?” Bella glances back at the table, seemingly at the bronze-copper-haired boy, who was picking a bagel apart like it owed him money. He also seemed to be speaking, but the other three at the table didn’t seem to pay attention to him. 

“They’re… very nice looking,” your sister manages, obviously in awe. 

“Yes!” Jessica giggles, “They’re all together though- Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together.” she states with an air of small-town judgment. Even so, it was a bit strange. Siblings, whether biologically related or not didn’t matter to you, really shouldn’t date, right?

“Which ones are the Cullens?” Your sister asks, “They don’t look related…”

“Oh, they’re not,” Jessica assures, “Dr. Cullen is really young, in his early twenties or thirties. They’re all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins- the blondes- and they’re foster children.” So the blondes are related, makes enough sense. The girl was Rosalie, a vintage but fittingly timeless name. Jasper also sounded like an older name, but the only thing you could think of was that jasper was a kind of rock. What did jasper rocks look like?

“They look a little old for foster children,” your sister mentions.

“They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they’ve been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She’s their aunt or something like that.” Jessica reveals.

“That’s kind of nice- for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they’re so young and everything.” Jessica shrugs off your sister’s words with a glance thrown in the directions of the Cullens.

“I guess so,” she admits reluctantly. You look at Jessica with guarded judgment. What was so bad about someone adopting kids? “I think Mrs. Cullen can’t have any kids, though.” You grimace, looking over to the Cullen table. Jessica was going to pull something in her arm if she kept reaching so far to find something to judge this family for! You notice the boy, who you have now mentally tacked the name of “bagel hater” onto, looks like he laughed. Of course, you can’t hear him for your vantage point, so you just see his shoulders move slightly and see him murmur quietly, seemingly to his three remaining siblings. You couldn’t see the face of the blonde boy- Jasper- but you can see Rosalie smile slightly, and the big one grins. 

“Have they always lived in Forks?” Your sister asks. You turn back to Jessica as she answers.

“No,” she practically scoffs, “They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska.” You can see Bella physically relax. You weren’t the only ones considered “new” here. Though it was obvious that the now quartet of beautiful students aren’t exactly accepted, though you couldn’t tell quite yet if their segregation from the rest of the school was preferable for them. 

“Which one is the boy with the reddish-brown hair?” Bella is still peeking over at the subject of her question when she asks. For some reason, he was staring at your sister with a look of frustration, maybe confusion. You sit up straight and scoot a bit closer to your sister, but you don’t wait for a reaction, instead choosing to look to Jessica as she answers yet another one of your sister’s queries. This girl really likes to talk, or at least gossip.

“That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time,” she huffs, “He doesn’t date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him.” Ah. Girl done got turned down, and apparently isn’t taking it well. Yikes. You purse your lips to keep yourself from smiling.

“Hey,” you try, “at least that means you can find someone else who isn’t such a jerk, right?” She shrugs, but your attempt seems to have smoothed over the sour blip in her mood.

You immerse yourself quietly in the conversation at the rest of the table, listening idly to the girls around you. One girl, quiet and fairly tall, introduced herself as Angela Webber. Apparently she had an oncoming class with Bella. She seemed much more genuine and sweet compared to her friend Jessica. Usually, you would have left to arrive to class much earlier with your sister when you shared lunch periods, but having people other than each other and a few acquaintances was a good reason to stay for you. Bella seemed content enough to stay as well.

Eventually, the bell rings to start passing period. You bid your sister farewell to make your way to P.E. Not your favorite class, but you’d deal. Apparently, Forks required four years of P.E. rather than your old schools two, which sucked. Coach Clapp signed your paper and let you sit out of the class for the day while he got you all your information for locker number and combo as well as your uniform. 

Your last class of the day was Introduction to Psychology. You were welcomed warmly by your teacher, a short brunette who's name you had yet to be able to pronounce, so you and other students just called her Ms. S. You were sat in the back of the class next to the only one other open seat. 

Right before the bell rings, you notice one last student walk through the door. You’re the only student looking back towards the door when you see Jasper Hale walk through the door. He wasn’t rushing despite his near lateness, and the teacher just looks up and smiles before going back to her work. That’s when you realize the only other desk was next to you. You duck down to your backpack to pull out a blank notebook and a pencil for the class. A notebook and folder were really the only things you were told to bring, so it was easy to get ready. When you popped back up, Jasper was sitting in his seat beside you with his arms crossed on the top of the desk. Despite the casual way he sat, he seemed ridiculously tense, his hands balled up into fists and tucked into his elbows. You shrugged it off and opened your journal to date and answer the bellwork question written on the whiteboard. Ms. S declared the day a workday and gave you your textbook and a few sheets of work. One was just a little packet to see what you knew and the other was a two-sided sheet questionnaire about yourself. You started on that first, which was fairly easy. Favorite colors and books, favorite foods, activities, and questions about family. You finished that about a quarter through the class. You worked on the packet until you answered all the questions you knew how to answer, which was just a little over half the packet. That took about half the class. During the last quarter, you just grabbed a page out of the back of your journal. You doodle little plants and eyes and mindless patterns. Shortly after you started you decided you wanted to try and draw someone. Naturally, the boy beside you would be the easiest to draw, so you decided to draw Jasper. By the end of the class, you had a nice looking, albeit stylized, sketch of your neighbor leaning against his desk.

The bell rings, and in a flurry of zipping backpacks and papers, students pack up and leave. You leaned down to put your pencil back in your pencil case before pulling yourself back up to grab your journal. When you sat up fully you noticed Jasper Hale standing up with his bag slung on one shoulder, head tilted in curiosity as he looked down at the lined paper down on your desk. Before you can stutter out any excuse, he speaks in a soft voice laced with amusement and a slight country tinge, 

“You drew me?” he asks. You felt like your face was hotter than the sun, 

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I was just bored an-” he interrupts your anxious excuse with a small smile, picking up the paper, 

“No no, it looks really good.” Did he really think it was good?

“Uh, thanks,” you mumble, grabbing your journal to keep packing up and refusing to make eye-contact. He offers a quiet thanks before disappearing out the door. Well, that was certainly strange. You finish zipping your backpack before standing to turn your work into Ms. S, who seemed delighted to see you had finished your work early.

“Thank you, Y/n. How was your first day?” You smile, 

“It was pretty good, considering I have no idea where I’m going,” you laugh, she laughs. 

“Ah, you’ll get used to it all eventually. By the way, do you happen to know Mr. Hale?” Ms. S asks. You blink in confusion, 

“Uh, no. This is the only class I have with him, I think? Why do you ask?” She shrugs, 

“I just haven’t seen him really interact with many students outside of his family, especially not on his own.” 

“He just liked the doodles I made near the end of class, I guess,” you respond. “Anyway, I have to go turn in my paperwork, See you tomorrow Ms. S!” You wave goodbye as you leave, following the streams of students out of the building. From there you were able to navigate your way to the office building with relative ease. You didn’t see Bella inside and waited outside until you saw her slowly making her way to the building, holding her arms around herself to hide from the cold wind. You laugh and wrap an arm around her and walk into the building.

You feel Bella freeze almost as soon as you enter. You notice the receptionist is busy but only realize why your sister is shocked with anxiety when you notice exactly who she’s busied with. Edward Cullen, the boy who gave her a strangely aggressive look during lunch. You pull Bella to the wall to wait, but she presses herself against you and the wall to make as much space between herself and this boy. Jesus, what did this guy do to scare Bella so bad, bite her?

The door beside your sister opens, blowing both of your hair around as a random girl came in to place something in the receptionist’s note basket. Then the weirdest thing happened. Edward stiffened before slowly turning to glare at your sister. You tighten your arm around her and stand up straight, rather than leaning on one leg. You glare right back at his scarily perfect face. This jerk had no reason to be looking at your sister like that! It was only her first day, she couldn’t have done anything to garter such a look of malice. Edward flicks his angry gaze to you for a moment, you still glared, before he turned back to the woman behind the desk. 

“Never mind, then,” he nearly growls. Such a nice voice certainly didn’t match to a vehemently hateful face, “I can see that’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.” He turns sharply and practically marches out of the office. You pull Bella closer against you as he exits. What. A. Dick.  You help Bella to the desk on her wobbly knees, her face noticeably paler than before. You hand your slips into the woman with a shaky smile.

“How was your day, dears?” She asks kindly. You manage a much more believable front compared to your sister, who can barely manage a meager,

“Fine.” You grimaced at her answer, the receptionist didn’t buy it.

“Pretty good day,” you say, “Thanks for the maps, they helped a lot!” She nods as you leave. You climb into the truck, one of the last vehicles in the parking lot.”

You let Bella drive for a while before you bring up her day. She was crying which she never did when sad, only angry or embarrassed. 

“So…” You start, “What’s with that jerk? We literally just get here, not even Jessica McGossip-Face was mean, and she’s the most judgmental person we’ve met today!” you joked lightly, but no smile, 

“I… I’m not sure? I didn’t do anything. He seemed fine far away during lunch, but he was in my Bio two after lunch and… and he was so weird?! He was on the edge of his seat as far away as he could get from me during class. He froze up and got all angry when I first passed him to get to the teacher and-and I don’t know why?” You reach over and gently rub her shoulder as she drives. You were much better at emotional support compared to your sister and father, but you can only do so much while she’s trying to drive.

“Yikes. It sounds like he’s a dick, if you ask me. Maybe that’s why he didn’t have anyone sitting next to him. Too much of a jerk to work with, “ you speculate, “His brother Jasper is weird in class too if that makes you feel any better. Maybe the whole family is like that. Who knows?” Bella wipes her unreleased tears away with her sleeve, 

“Maybe…” You purse your lips before trying again, 

“Hey, it’s not good to take in the opinion of someone like him anyway. Did you see how he wasted that bagel? He picked it apart like it insulted his mother! He’s a bagel hater! He doesn’t seem like someone worth taking into consideration to me,” you grin when Bella smiles. 

“Ha, I guess you’re right.”

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Tags: @twilight-loveer @rushiruby