#one of my nightmares last night was everyone at work getting rounded up and arrested

[arcticmist0324]

Also be EXTREMELY CAREFUL who you talk politics too. A lot of us already have our positions known to others, but keep that information on lock as much as possible because it could be dangerous to your safety.

I hope Trump was being hyperbolic about “the enemy within,” but we can’t be too certain this isn’t going to usher in a new era akin to McCarthyism.

If by some miracle sweet potato Hitler doesn't win come the end of the week, this won't be necessary, but should he win here are some of the first things to be aware of or do.

If you know a trans person, no you don't. Respect them as best you can in private but you know nothing in public.

Be aware that TikTok will likely be banned, find new platforms to spread information. Fuck Twitter and what ever tiktok replacement he's working on.

Learn to Garden, even in winter so you can feed yourself should prices skyrocket

Get an air purifier. The Clean Air Act is likely to be stripped of its power with the EPA deregulated, air quality is going to suffer

Should you have kids, try to supplement history/social studies education. That's the first place they will attack, if you need help ask, history teacher will help

Try and do what you can to be aware of your health before January.

Help one another. That's the best way we can move forward and make change in the future.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pressure

Finale to Push and Pull

Warnings: noncon sex, oral, violence, abuse, and death.

This is Lee Bodecker (who is already dark!af) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Life changes and you’re swept up in the tide.

Note: Alright, here’s out final part! Lee is such a bastard man.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“You left a stain On every one of my good days” 

-Disease, Matchbox Twenty

🚔

Arn had quickly taken up your father’s mantle as a moonshiner. When he got home, he went to the shed and tinkered with the sill. He met with the same men your father had and even began to act like him. Quiet, terse. He ordered you and your brothers around as he emulated the dead man.

Will had grown quiet. In those days he spent at home with you, you’d noticed how distant he seemed. He was the youngest, the sweetest. When your mother had passed, he had been the most distraught but he seemed numb to your father’s absence.

And Cal; Cal was just as oblivious as ever. You almost admired how he always went through life without heed for the past or future. He only seemed to live in his own little bubble as he floated along; untouched and unaffected by the taint of Knockemstiff.

And you, you were just an afterthought in the lives of the men around you. You cleaned after them, cooked for them, and saw that all was in order for them to exist. They didn’t give a second thought to their dirtied dishes or torn trousers. They just left them for you to tidy and mend.

And Bodecker. You hated just the thought of him. Hated the way your stomach churned as you recalled that mighty heat he’d stoked within you. The feeling you knew was so wrong. How could you feel that way when he was touching you? When you didn’t want him to touch you? You didn’t want it, right?

Your nightmares were stained in your father’s blood. You woke with a start at the gunshot as it echoed inside your head. Every morning without fail. Visions lingered as you dressed; the gun, Lee’s voice, the blood seeping into the dirt. You shuddered and pressed your hands to your face. 

Had it really been so long? A month already.

You descended the stairs and yawned into your sleeve as you hugged yourself in the early morning chill. It was early, the men would not rise for another hour or so.

Maybe not. You heard the crackle of a log and the whisper of a page being turned. You stood in the doorway of the living room. Will sat on the rug before the fire, bent over a book as the flames licked behind the grate.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he spoke before you could. “But I’m almost done my book.”

“That’s good,” you neared and lowered yourself beside him, “What are you reading anyway?”

“Lord of the Flies,” he marked his page, “I think… I think it’s about good and evil. If people are born one or the other, you know?”

“Oh?” You crossed your arms over your knees.

“Yeah, I mean, if we were allowed to make our own rules, would we make them for us or the for the good of everyone?” He wondered, “Because even with the rules, we do the worst, don’t we?”

“I suppose but… the rules don’t really make much difference around here.” You snorted. “Not in this town.”

“You think it’s different somewhere else? In the city? Maybe in another country?” He chewed his thumbnail.

“I like to hope so, not that I’ll ever know,” you said, “Is this about daddy?”

He shrugged. He dropped his hand and stretched his long legs before him. “All the good went with mama.”

“Don’t say that,” you admonished.

“It’s true. How many times did he take the belt to you? And why? Because you made him think of her.”

“You really think that?”

“He was nasty to all of us,” he sighed, “But nastier to you. And I can’t even be sad that he’s gone.”

“Death is hard, Will,” you touched his shoulder, “It’s hard to know what you’re feeling about it. Sad ain’t so clear as it should be. It could be staring at the wall or tossing and turning in your bed or sitting up in the early hours and readin’ some book by yourself. It’s not always a feelin’, sometimes it’s in the things we do.”

“It’s just a book,” he muttered.

“But you lookin’ for daddy in it, ain’t ya? Askin’ if he was good or bad.”

“I know he was bad,” Will said, “It’s why I don’t feel bad for him. Probably ran his mouth at whoever it was who gave him what he got.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you took his hand and squeezed, “Please. For me.”

He looked at you. The light of the fire flickered in shadows across his face. “You know, you never had to take care of him. Or us. You should got out and married.”

“Maybe I didn’t have to,” you sidled close to him, “But how could I leave my little brother, hmm?”

“I’m a man now. Almost.” He said. “Arn won’t let you stay. I know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Him and Rose from the diner. He’s gonna marry her. Won’t be no place for you here. Or Cal. Or me.” Will said. “And I’m gonna go work down at the yard. Or maybe the factory.”

“You should finish school.”

“For what?”

“You’re the only smart one. You could find your way. Get a degree.” You urged. “You should do all of that. You shouldn’t stay here.”

“And leave you behind?”

You sniffed and hung your head. “No, I’m grown. I’ll find my way and I won’t get in yours. You got half a year left. You’re too close to quit.”

“I don’t know…”

“Mama always wanted you to do something big. She always said you were special.” You said. “A lawyer? Maybe even a doctor. Imagine that.”

He was quiet. He squeezed your hand and wobbled his foot as he thought. “You should leave too. Leave this town. We could both go once I’m done school.”

“No, no, you can’t be takin’ care of me.” You argued.

“Why not? You’ve taken care of me.”

“Because that’s what women do. I promised mama I would.” You liked the idea of leaving but it was terrifying. Even if you did have that courage, you knew you wouldn’t be gone for long. And if fate didn’t bring you back, you expected something, or someone else, would. “If Arn decides to toss us to the curb, I’ll see you through the rest of the year and then you’re gonna go out and make mama proud.”

He nodded and leaned back on his hands. “I know no one else ever gave you a chance but you should start givin' yourself one. You’re too good for us. Too good for everyone in this damn town.”

🚔

When the Sheriff showed up next, you were alone. He walked into the house without knocking, as had become his habit, and sat at the table as you prepared a roast for dinner. He watched you silently and you tried to ignore him. You were waiting for his command. 

How did he want you? What vile things would he do to you that day?

“When’s the boys gettin’ home?” He asked.

“Soon,” you answered as you turned on the oven. 

“You got something sweet,” he reached in his pocket and pulled out an empty wrapped.

You slid the cookie jar towards you and plopped it before him on the table. “Made ‘em last night. Chocolate chip.”

“You’re always so good to me,” he smiled and you choked down your revulsion. “Too bad it took me so damn long to get here. I really wanted to have some fun.”

You turned back and opened the stove. You slid the roasting pan inside and snapped it shut.

“Them dresses you got, they really do nothin’ for ya,” he said through a mouthful of cookie, “‘cept when you’re bending over.”

“Why are you here then?” You crossed your arms as you turned back to him.

“I gotta talk to your brothers,” he said, “But let’s be clear on something, girl. You don’t ask me my business unless it’s to do with you.”

“I know about you,” you sneered, “Everyone does. Why don’t you get one of your whores and leave me alone?”

The chair nearly toppled as he stood and tossed down the cookie. He rounded the table and stomped over to you, cornering you against the counter.

“You’re my whore,” he snarled, “You got that?” He pinched your tit roughly. “Now, if I wanna, I can bend you over right now and let your brothers see what a whore you are.” He grabbed your chin and pushed his body against yours. “You should be flattered, you know? I ain’t touched another bitch since I been in you.”

You bit down and glared at him. Your lip curled but you said nothing.

“I ain’t gonna leave you alone,” he rocked his body against yours and exhaled. “What do ya think is gonna happen if I do? If I toss you out like the used bag you are? You got me or you got nothing. No man’s gonna marry a flower without her petals.”

He pushed harder against you until you could feel his bulge through his pants. His stomach crushed you against the counter. He leaned in and kissed you. You were shocked by the gesture, disgusted at how you could taste the chocolate on him.

“I really need to fuck you,” he growled as he drew away, “Fuckin’ hurts so bad.” He pushed himself from you and turned as he cleared his throat. The loud rumble of the Ford truck called from just outside as it pulled in. “Guess that means I’ll have to pay you back in kind.” 

You narrowed your eyes and went to the fridge. You poured him a glass and slammed it down as the front door opened and the boys’ voices mingled in the hallway. Bodecker drank deeply and cleared his throat as he watched you retreat.

Arn entered first, followed by the other two as they chattered noisily. “...in the shed, we-- Sheriff Bodecker,” Arn shook the sheriff’s hand as he stood. “Figured you were waitin’ for us. You know, we got everything sorted with the shine.”

“That’s good to hear but sadly I’m not here about that,” Bodecker said, “Other business. ‘Bout your daddy.”

“Ah, okay,” Arn glanced over at Cal as Will took a seat at the table and grabbed a cookie from the jar. Your youngest brother looked at you as he took a bite. “What’s, uh, what’s goin’ on?”

“Well, we think we got the prick who did it,” Bodecker began and you stiffened, “Found your daddy’s belt buckle and same caliber gun. Some rat down by the tracks. Been arrested before for robbin’.”

“You found him?” Cal asked, “Well, suppose that’s good.”

“We will be chargin' him to the full extent of the law. Shouldn’t see a free day ever again.” Bodecker said. “Out of courtesy, I figured I’d tell ya before the papers ran the story.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Arn said. “You know it’s been tough tryna get everything together since he been gone but… this’ll be good for all of us. Now that we have some peace about it.”

“Oh, you got big plans?” Bodecker asked.

“House is mine now. Figure I need a wife. And the boys… well, they gotta go find a place of their own, ain’t they?”

“Mmm,” Bodecker hummed, “And your sister, too.”

“We have an aunt. I’m sure she could use the company.” Arn said.

“What?” You sputtered, “You just gonna send me away to live with Darlene?”

“What else am I gonna do with ya?” Arn barked. “If I got Rose here to do my cookin’ and cleanin’, I don’t see the use in keepin’ you around. Don’t know why daddy didn’t find someone to take ya before.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to do nothin’ with me,” you huffed, “But I ain’t goin’ to Darlene’s. I’ll go out on my own. I’ll clean someone else’s floor and get paid for it in more than spit and stupid.”

Arn snarled and Will stood slowly from the table. Cal squinted as if lost.

“Now, now,” Bodecker clapped Arn’s shoulder, “Lots to be done, lots to be done. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is a lot. Big news. I say, take some time, have some of that shine your daddy left you, and calm down, huh?”

Arn looked at the sheriff and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I s’pose.”

Will lingered by the table, his eyes never left his older brother as his hands balled into fists. You neared him and touched his arm softly. He glanced over at you, his face tensed with anger.

“I won’t let him do it,” he whispered. “I told you, we can get out together.”

“So let’s give it a day,” Bodecker boomed, “I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll talk business and… well, I think you’ll be happier after we have all that figured out.”

Arn nodded and shifted his weight.

“You got big shoes to fill,” Bodecker said, “Gotta make sure you get ‘em laced on right.”

🚔

As promised, Bodecker returned the next day, this time after your brothers. He joined them in the shed, a relief as you worked at stitching one of Will’s shirts. Cal appeared as you held up the shirt and eyed your work. You sensed his shadow and dropped the fabric to your lap.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you assured him.

“You need to come out to the shed,” he ignored your promise of a hot meal and you frowned. 

You stood and slung the shirt over the chair. You grabbed your jacket and boots and followed him out the door. You hadn’t been to the shed since before your daddy died. Your teeth chattered as you slipped through the door and Cal slid it closed behind you. Arn sat in your pa’s old armchair, Lee on a stool, and Will on the crooked bench with a space free for his other brother.

“I don’t know why she needs to be here,” Arn said, “But she is, so let’s get on.”

“Well, the only way you’re gonna expand across the county is through me, Arn,” Bodecker talked as if he were addressing a child. “And I’m up for re-election. That means we need each other. Means we need to set this little partnership we have down in stone.”

“How’s it that you need us, sheriff?” Cal asked as you swayed by the door.

“Well, my reputation ain’t exactly pristine. I need to tidy up the edges,” Bodecker leaned forward and twined his fingers together. “I’ll see that you get your shine from one end of the county to the other and I’ll also take a little weight off your shoulders. I need a wife and your sister needs a new home.”

Your mouth fell open and even Arn seemed surprised by the proposal.

“No,” Will said, “You can’t… you can’t marry her.”

“I don’t see why not. She’s gettin’ up there in years, I don’t see anyone else lining up.” Bodecker chortled.

“Because she--” Will looked at you helplessly. “She deserves to be happy.”

“I don’t think any woman be unhappy being the sheriff’s wife,” Bodecker hissed, “Won’t be no different than her cleaning up after y’all. If anything, it’ll be easier.”

“Take her,” Arn said, “Two birds, one stone.”

“And Cal, I’ll get him on the force by the end of the year. Always good to have another set of hands.” Bodecker continued. “He’ll make good enough money to get outta your hair.”

“And Will?” You said. All the men turned to look at you. “He’s gotta stay in school.”

“School ain’t shit,” Arn scowled.

“I don’t see why he can’t finish,” Bodecker said. 

“I ain’t takin’ care of him,” Arn said. “He either gonna work for his lot or he can live outside.”

“Say what you want about daddy, but at least he had the decency to see to us,” you said. “You think you’re the big man now he’s gone.”

“You better shut your fuckin’ mouth if you know what’s good for you,” Arn stood and the sheriff did too. He stepped in front of the younger man.

“She’s grievin’. You know the ladies don’t handle all this so well,” Bodecker said, “I’ll see after the kid. I was gonna up my take to twenty percent but I’ll settle for fifteen if you keep him on.”

“Up your take?” Arn scoffed.

“We’re gonna be family and I’m gonna make sure none of my officers get in your way. Boy, that’s gonna mess with numbers, you get me? You can’t get without givin’.” 

Arn lowered his chin and looked between you and Will. He blinked slowly.

“He got a roof till he’s done school. No longer than that.” Arn sat back down heavily, “And you be best to get a leash on my sister and quick. The sooner she’s out of my house, the better. Rose is getting awfully antsy.”

“Y’all got a date yet?” Bodecker said.

“Wait? Just like that? You’re gonna marry me off--”

“Fuck’s sake. You ain’t never know when to shut up!” Arn hollered as he reached for a jar of shine.

“And you’re gonna drink away your years just like daddy,” you snapped.

“Hmm, maybe, but you’re gonna do what I tell you and get on your back for our sheriff.” He spat, “Or I’m gonna dump you on the corner and you can see who else will have you.”

“Arn, you can’t--” Will began.

“You two can go off and see how far you make it,” Arn bit back, “I’m done arguin’. The next person pipes up, I’m gonna tar ya.”

You looked at Will and shook your head. You knew what wasn’t being said. If you didn’t do what you were told, it wasn’t that you’d be out of your home. You wouldn’t have anything. The sheriff had a stranglehold on every citizen in the county. He’d make sure you were helpless until you were forced to grab his outreached hand. You’d take what he gave you, as you had to that point.

“Fine…” You uttered, “You know what mama would think, Arn. As much as you think daddy’d be proud, you know she wouldn’t.”

“Go back to your kitchen,” Arn took a gulp of moonshine, “You got a month, Sheriff. You get her out and you got your fifteen.”

🚔

You didn’t expect your wedding day to be so gloomy. A winter ceremony in the town church with a man you didn’t and couldn’t love. You’d always thought you would wear your mother’s old gown but he wasn’t worthy of that. So you wore the plan dress from the local shop with a short veil and a pair of white flats.

The sheriff had done his best to clean up for the ceremony. Freshly shaved, hair combed neatly, his stomach barely continued above his cumberbund. This man, your husband, your jailer. 

Your brothers sat in the first row as you listened to the priest. Your vows were nothing special, the same template handed out by the church. To love and obey. Only one of those would be true. You stared at the loose stitches of the veil, your surroundings blurred beyond the white lace.

You hated Arn for trading you away like livestock but you knew deep down your father would’ve done the same. He would’ve done worse. You recalled his last words; he would’ve had you on the street. Maybe this was the best you could hope for.

The room came back into focus as your veil was lifted. Your husband kissed you. He still sent a shiver up your spine every time he touched you. You turned back to the audience, his hand around yours as he led you between the rows of strangers. Your brothers were the only familiar faces though they were hardly welcome. 

Arn had quickly taken up your father’s part in mistreating you, Cal was his mindless followers, and Will, you only saw pity in his eyes. Bodecker guided you between the pews and the doors open to the frigid winter afternoon. He ushered you to the waiting car and was quick to climb in behind you. There would be a dinner awaiting you at town hall; a whole room rented out for the occasion.

“So,” Bodecker’s hand settled on your thigh, “Are you wearing it?”

You nodded. He had brought you the lurid attire only nights before. A lacy brassiere and satin panties, stocks and frilly garners; all in as if you were still a virgin. He stretched his arm over your shoulders and pulled you close.

“It’s gonna just be you and me, honey,” he purred, “No more hiding.”

“Yes, Sheriff,” you spoke into your lap.

“Lee, or sir. No need to act strange anymore,” he dragged his nose up your cheek and his hot breath choked you. “I can’t wait until tonight. I’ve been holdin’ it in so long, god, I could blow now.”

“You know I hate you, don’t you?” You looked at him dead in the face.

A smile slowly spread across his face as he played with the hem of your veil. “Well, don’t really matter now, does it?”

🚔

Bodecker, Lee, your personal tormenter; whoever he was, ate as you avoided the same. You felt too sick to do anything but wait out the night. You accepted the congratulations of family and friends that weren’t yours and bided your time as he did all the talking. You expected your new life would be filled with these people eating out of the hand of their sheriff in hope that he didn’t swat their heads.

He drove you home in his cruiser. A strange end to a strange state of affairs. His house was large and closer to town. It was more modern than your father’s old farmhouse but not so tidy. A man living on his own didn’t have time to do his dishes before his wedding or put his used socks in the hamper

He closed the door behind you as you looked around. Cleaning was never a pleasure for you, an obligation, a ritual which kept you from dwelling on the bad. At that moment, you wanted to clean up the mess of this man’s life to keep from dealing with your own.

You jumped as he slapped your ass hard enough to make you stumble. You rubbed the stinging flesh beneath your dress and drew away from him. He caught your arm before you could go far.

“The bedroom’s through there,” he nodded to the doorway on the other side of the room, “A lot better than the car… and the coffee cups… hmmm?”

“It’s all the same,” you muttered.

“It gets better each time,” he pulled you against him and groaned. “You’ll see it soon. You’ll feel it.” He leaned in and his hot breath tickled your lips. “Go to the bedroom, get that dress off and wait for me.”

He tapped your ass and let you go as he turned away. He removed his jacket and hung it as you watched his back. You looked at the door. Where would you even go? Your mama once told you marriage wasn’t for love, it was practical. A roof over your head. What more could you ask for?

You walked down the hallway and stopped to look at the picture. The fresh-faced corporal didn’t look like the ruddy cheeked man with the wrinkle above his brow. Even in black and white, his eyes seemed brighter then. You tore yourself away and found the bedroom at the end.

You supposed you were different too. Different from yesterday, different from a month ago, a year ago, ten years ago. So much could change in so little time. 

You reached back and unhooked the top of your dress. You struggled to undo each button along your spine as the fabric drew taut across your stomach. A week ago, the dress had seemed looser, same with much of your wardrobe. 

You shimmied out of the dress and folded it over the walnut dresser. You looked down at yourself and the underwear better fit to the racy scenes in the theatre. You didn’t dress like this. You weren’t Marilyn or Elizabeth. You were just you and you were entirely out of place. 

You slipped out of your shoes and unpinned your veil. The ring on your finger chafed your skin. You sighed and turned to sit on the bed. It bounced beneath you as you toyed with the diamond. Say what you would of the man, it had all been adequate. More than.

“You look good,” Bodecker said and you raised your head as he entered. He began to undress as he strutted across the room. “Wife.”

He unbuttoned his shirt as he neared the bed. He looked down at you with a smirk as his bowtie hung loose from his neck.

“You know what would happen if I didn’t marry you?” He pulled his tails loose and wiggled out of the shirt. He tossed it away with his tie, his stomach poking out slightly from his undershirt. “I mean, you could have my bastard inside you right now. You think anyone else wants it?”

Your eyes widened and your lashes fluttered. You bunched up the blankets in your hand as you teetered on the edge of the bed. You shook your head.

“You see, unlike all those whores, you got more than what’s between your legs,” he unbuckled his belt and undid his fly. “You work, real hard. And despite yourself, you’ll always need someone to take care of.”

He reached into his underwear and rubbed himself before pulling out his cock. You closed your eyes as he groaned and reached out to caress your cheek.

“Open your mouth, honey,” he purred. “Let me show how a wife serves her husband.”

You hesitated and he gripped your chin. He squeezed, a warning, and you opened up. He pressed his tip against your lips and pushed so that you let him in. His skin was salty and warm as it slid over your tongue. He hit the back of your throat and your eyes welled.

“Mmm mm mm,” he hummed, “That is good. Come on… just a little--”

He grunted as he forced himself down your throat. You choked and he shuddered as his hands held your head firmly. He moved his hips carefully. He slid back and slammed back in. Your eyes rolled back and you tried not to gag as he repeated the motion, each thrust harder than the last.

“Fuck, girl, I love that mouth,” he cooed, “Now it’s all mine.”

He pulled you forward as he pushed himself as deep as he could. He jerked into you even harsher than before and you grabbed the top of his pants. He dragged you off the bed and you fell to your knees. He fucked your face and shoved your head back against the mattress. He planted a hand on the bed and hammered into you over and over. Slobber spilled down your chin and you slapped helplessly against his thigh.

“Fucking take it,” he growled.

Your vision began to spot as you went limp and he stopped suddenly, halfway down your throat. He snarled and slipped out of your mouth and let you drop to the floor. You leaned forward as you coughed and his belt jingled as he stripped off his pants.

He stepped past you and climbed onto the bed. He fell heavily on his back as you looked up and bent his hands behind his head. His cock stood, glistening, and he grinned.

“Better climb on, girl,” he said, “We ain’t done yet.”

You grabbed the edge of the bed and pulled yourself up. One knee, then the other, you crawled over to him. It was the first time you’d seen him entirely naked. You stood shakily and reached to the top of the satin panties.

“Ah,” he tutted, “Just pull ‘em to the side.”

Your brows drew together but you didn’t argue. Your only hope was to bide him until you were on your own. Make yourself numb to his company and you could reward yourself in your solace.

You got down on your knees and reached between your legs. You took him in one hand and pushed your panties aside with other. You paused as his tip prodded at your entrance then lowered yourself onto him. You withdrew your hands and the satin was taut around the side of his shaft. You stilled and tried to adjust to the fullness.

“Well, come on,” he grabbed your hips and tilted them, “Move.”

You carried the rhythm and rocked atop of him. Your crumpled panties rubbed against your clit and added to the storm brewing in your core. His hands swept up your sides and he cupped your tits through the lace bra. His thumbs rubbed your barely concealed nipples and he groaned.

“Shit, it’s so good, honey. So good.” He moved his hips beneath you, “Faster.”

You obeyed and he tugged down the cups the brassiere. He pushed his head into the pillow and gritted his teeth. He grabbed your sides and pulled you to bend over him. He nuzzled your titts and nipped at the tender flesh. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked as you kept your hips moving.

His hands skimmed over your curves and he gripped your hips. He pulled your ass down harder and you flesh clapped against his loudly. He turned his head away as your breast hung over him and you sped up. You were close. So close.

“I’m gonna cum,” he rasped, “I’m gonna--”

You threw back your head and cried out as you orgasmed first. You dug your nails into his arm as you fucked him through your climax and felt him burst inside of you. That joy, that second of joy, was enough to forget, a spark of happiness before it all came back.

You slowed and stilled atop him, out of breath. You sat up, the straps of your bra sagging down your shoulders as he tickled your thighs.

“You know,” he poked his finger between your legs and flicked your overwrought clit. You twitched and he chuckled. “I can’t wait til you got my child inside of you. Seein’ you all big. I’m still gonna fuck you.” His other hand rubbed your stomach, “If you’re anything like your mama, we’ll have a whole herd of our own.” He licked his lips as he took your hands and placed them on his chest. “But you remember, your husband always comes first.”

[rikalovesrice]

Trollhunters : Rise of The Titans [Rika’s Version!]

AIGHT SO THIS IS WHAT SHOULD’VE FREAKIN’ HAPPENED --

The movie starts a year after Wizards. We see Douxie, Archie, and Nari all settled in Metro City. Douxie managed to get a dinky little apartment and works two jobs. He comes home after a long day to Nari and Archie.

Maybe Nari’s running around chasing after Archie. Maybe the two of them are curled up on the couch and snoozing. Douxie smiles softly, petting Archie’s head and gently brushes Nari’s hair out of her face. Maybe Nari was singing to one of her plants and just beams when Douxie walks through the door. Just Magical Siblings and Their Therapy Cat fluff.

But that night, Douxie wakes up. Something feels very, very wrong. Nari feels it, too. 

Cut to the door to their apartment being busted right through, flames quickly consuming the threshold. To Douxie’s horror, it’s the Arcane Order and he immediately goes on the offensive. This is the first display in the movie of Douxie’s strength as a Master Wizard, his proficiency and skill with his magic as he holds his own against Bellroc and Skrael as he did in Wizards. He tells Archie to take Nari and run but neither of them want to leave him behind. Archie instead fights beside Douxie, urging for Nari to escape while she can. Nari’s reluctant because Douxie and Archie have become so precious to her.

When it looks like they’re about to be done in, Archie wills himself to transform into a huge dragon, taking Douxie and Nari into his claws and flying out of there, busting straight out of the apartment. But not before giving Bellroc and Skrael a thrashing with his tail. They manage to give the Order the slip. For now.

Archie quickly loses steam from holding such a form and crashes on the outskirts of the city, transforming back into a cat. Douxie cradles him in his arms. Nari tends to their wounds with her magic, looking forlorn. 

Douxie frantically dials a number on his phone. 

“Claire? Claire it’s me...” A column of fire erupts in the distance. A shot of Douxie, Archie, and Nari huddled close. “They found us.”

Trollhunters : Rise of the Titans Title Screen

The scene fades in on the new and improved Camelot, where the Lakes are staying. We see Jim spending time with his mother and Walter and it’s lovely. We see a hint of Jim’s trauma when he’s cooking and looks at his reflection in a spatula. He flinches away. He doesn’t want to look at himself. Barbara comforts him, a tender heartfelt moment between them.

Claire then emerges from a shadow portal with grim news : The Arcane Order have found Douxie and Nari.

Jim gathers his friends. Claire shadow portals them all to Douxie, who’s found shelter in a hut Nari made from tree roots. Douxie’s cast a barrier to hide their presence, though it won’t last long. 

It’s a really sweet and awesome reunion. Douxie gives Claire and Steve big hugs. Nari bounds up to Toby and holds his hand. Jim, Krel, and Douxie have a “good to see you again, bro” moment between them. Aaarrgh licks his lips at the sight of Archie.

It’s here that Douxie gives the deets on what’s happened. As they begin to figure out a way to keep Nari safe and away from the Order, Nari suddenly says, “No.”

After almost losing Douxie and Archie, her new family, Nari decides enough is enough. She wants to face her corrupted siblings head-on. To not only protect the world, but her newfound friends. 

Douxie understandably protests. But Nari, gentle but resolute, tells him she’s made up her mind. No more running.

And so, Douxie acquiesces. 

Cue the sequence/fight scene on the train!

Nari realizes what Douxie’s doing when it’s too late. They switch bodies and Douxie’s taken away by the Order. 

“Douxie, I’m so sorry...I couldn’t save her,” Claire laments.

Nari, in Douxie’s body, “N-no...No, I am fine. But Douxie...Douxie!”

Everyone’s like, “Oh no” but then oof, they all get arrested.

The police department scene! With Krel and the Blanks busting everyone out.

Now, we find ourselves back on Camelot where Jim’s being attended to by Walter and Barbara after waking up from a nightmare. Bellroc’s words torment him : “Without your Amulet, you are nothing but a frightened! Little!! BOY!!!”

Walter suggests Jim should lay low, let his friends handle things. Jim reaches a real low point here. Claire provides some comfort. Hand in hand, they make their way to the Round Table, where everyone’s licking their wounds. 

Blinky explains to them that the Order wants to awaken the Titans and need all three members of the Order to do so. While everyone’s relieved that Nari’s safe, Douxie’s now in the Order’s clutches and they want to figure out a way to save him.

Nari, sad and grim, says that Douxie’s spell will eventually wear off.

“He is, as humans say, buying us time...”

Cut to Douxie (in Nari’s body) with the Order. Douxie doesn’t make a sound, not wanting to give anything away. They try the ritual and when it fails, Bellroc and Skrael quickly suspect foul play. They realize that Nari isn’t Nari and proceed to forcefully, painfully, undo Douxie’s spell.

Douxie wakes up, back in his own body. He’s swarmed by his friends, all overcome with relief that he’s alright, but it’s short-lived. The Order has Nari. 

Douxie manages to recall where the Order took him. Before they head out, a downtrodden Jim says he should stay behind, going back to the bed chamber. Claire goes to talk to him, but Douxie stops her.

“Let’s give him some space,” Douxie says gently, though he looks just as concerned for Jim. “In the meantime,” he summons his staff, “we’ll hunt the Order down, put a stop to their schemes, and bring Nari home.”

Everyone heads to the warehouse-train track place (I forgot what it was called rip). Just then, Aja comes flying in, having been contacted by Krel. The Tarron siblings have a sweet, wholesome, long-awaited reunion. Also Staja and Creepslayerz reunited!

Aja cautions Steve about the whole seventh kiss-pregnancy thing and he quickly decides that, yeah no, he’s not quite ready for that. His Alien Queen Muffin (or whatever the heck he called her) is back and that’s all that matters to him. Also wtf Eli’s hot and taller than him now.

There’s a cute moment of Douxie and Aja really meeting for the first time. Aja recognizes him.

“Oh! You were the hand-reading waiter boy!”

Upon hearing she’s a Queen, Douxie’s Medieval chivalry kicks in and he bows at the waist.

“The name’s Hisirdoux, Your Majesty.” After Aja butchers his name, he says “Douxie” will do just fine. 

Nomura abruptly reminds them they don’t have time for pleasantries. They get to it. Douxie figures out the sigil and the illusion fades, revealing the Order performing their ritual with a brainwashed Nari. They’re unable to stop it and the Order members teleport away to join with their respective Titans. We see each of the Titans rising.

The Arcadia Gang regroups back on Camelot to form a plan. Jim, discouraged and deeply troubled, is leaning over a rail, head in his hands. Douxie comes up beside him, silent.

Jim eventually asks how things went. When Douxie tells him they failed and the Titans have risen, Jim feels even more powerless and guilt-ridden.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I couldn’t...I can’t do anything. Without the Amulet I’m not the Trollhunter anymore and I’m just...useless--”

Douxie cuts him off, putting a hand on Jim’s shoulder. 

“Jim. That’s not true. Do you remember what I told you? That our strength doesn’t come from special trinkets. Our strength...” Douxie finally gets Jim to look at him, “comes from our friends. From each other. All of us together. That includes you.”

“But...without my Amulet how can I do anything--”

Douxie smiles gently. “By being true to yourself, Jim. As we, your friends, are true to you.”

Just then, Claire joins them and asks if Jim’s okay. Jim smiles as Douxie ruffles his hair.

“I will be. Thanks.”

Jim, Claire, and Douxie find everyone arguing at the Round Table. Aja is wanting to evacuate everyone off of Earth, to which Blinky protests. Everyone just keeps going back and forth until Jim yells for them to stop.

Time to divide and conquer, cutting back and forth between each battle with the Titans.

Aja, Krel, Steve, and Eli tackle the Fire Titan.

Blinky, Toby, and Nomura handle the Ice Titan, with Walter and Barbara steering Camelot.

Jim, Claire, Douxie, and Aaarrgh go for the Earth Titan. Douxie’s hoping to get through to Nari and break her free from the Order’s control.

Aja and Krel fight the Fire Titan side by side on their hoverboard. Steve and Eli help civilians off the bridge and keep them safe. 

Varvatos Vex in his giant robo mech incoming, along with a handful of Akiridion warships.

The Fire Titan proves to be too powerful and defeats Varvatos’ robot, melting down the Akiridion troops in the process. Aja and Krel are knocked down from their hoverboard. They and Varvatos retreat as the Fire Titan continues to burn a path towards its destination.

Toby and Nomura attempt to zipline their way to the Ice Titan to take down Skrael with Akiridion bombs. When the rope fails, Walter extends his wings to save them, but his wings quickly freeze. 

Nomura grabs the bombs and sacrifices herself, bidding a heartwrenching farewell to Toby and her longtime friend, thanking them both. She asks Toby to tell Jim she said goodbye. Ever agile, Nomura scales the Ice Titan and detonates the bombs.

But to everyone’s horror, the Ice Titan only puts itself back together. Walter sinks to his knees. Toby throws down his helmet. Their friend sacrificed herself for nothing.

Aaarrgh is charging after the Earth Titan, Douxie, Jim, and Claire hanging onto his back. Claire shadow portals the three of them onto the Titan’s back. Douxie begins to plead with Nari, even as she constricts him with vines.

Douxie manages to grab her hand. He begins to break the mind-control with his magic, still calling out to Nari as he’s losing the ability to breathe. 

Douxie’s voice reaches her and she breaks free. Nari frantically asks where she is, if she hurt him or his friends. Douxie, overcome with relief, just embraces her.

“You’re here with us, Nari...You’re here with us.”

Nari assures them they have a Titan on their side now. They receive communication from the Tarrons, who warn them that the Ice Titan is getting close to Arcadia.

No time to wonder why Skrael’s headed there. Claire makes a massive shadow portal to Arcadia (the field trip scene!), taking Nari’s Titan with them. Nari tries to reason with Skrael, but he’s having none of it.

NARI VS SKRAEL COMMENCE!

The Tarrons and Creepslayerz arrive on scene. Douxie boards Aja’s hoverboard and together they fire lazers and magic at the Ice Titan. Varvatos dashes and slashes his way up the Titan. Claire, Jim, Krel, Steve, and Eli work to rescue the school bus from getting crushed.

Well, it does get crushed but thankfully everyone made it off. Then, Archie comes flying in with his father, Charlemagne. Charlie flies all the students and Coach to safety. Archie joins Douxie in the air, blasting Skrael with fire.

“C’mon and face the music, Skrael!!!” Douxie summons Spellcaster and starts shredding.

Enraged, Skrael releases a devastating burst of magic that knocks Douxie, Aja, and Varvatos away. Nari seizes the opportunity to impale Skrael’s Titan, but not before Nari’s fatally wounded by him in return. Both Titans collapse.

Douxie runs to Nari, desperately calling her name. She’s on the ground, dying. Everyone gathers around, devastated. Douxie holds Nari in his arms. Archie nuzzles Nari’s arm, tears forming in his eyes. Douxie’s already crying.

“No..No, no, Nari, please...” Douxie holds her hand. “Nari, don’t go, please...!”

“It is okay, Douxie...Do not be sad...”

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I said I would protect you...” Douxie leans down, almost touching his forehead to hers (it’s Harry and Dobby y’all). His tears fall onto her face. “I said I would protect you...!”

“You did something greater, Douxie...” Nari squeezes his hand. Tears of her own roll down her cheeks. “You gave me a home. And many, many friends....” Douxie sobs harder, holding her close. “You saved me, Douxie...” She’s beginning to fade. She smiles, her eyes closing. “Thank you...Thank...”

Nari fades, wisps of magic and flower petals slipping through Douxie’s fingers. Douxie wails, Archie pressing close. Jim and Claire lay their hands on his shoulders. Claire hugs him.

Krel is then alerted that the Fire Titan is also on the move towards Arcadia.

Everyone reconvenes on Camelot. They all mourn the deaths of Nomura and Nari. 

They learn that Bellroc is headed towards Arcadia, the center of the universe, because that’s where the last Heartstone is. If at least one Titan reaches the Heartstone, the world will be wiped clean.

Before they head out, Douxie and the Tarrons present Jim with a brand new Amulet, forged from magic and Akiridion technology. That, and the stone in which Excaliber lodged itself. Douxie encourages Jim to try once more. 

Jim steps up on the stone, gazing fondly at his friends around him. They all place their hands on the stone in support. Jim pulls Excaliber from the stone. Everyone cheers for him.

Douxie’s seen texting someone.

FINAL SHOWDOWN IN ARCADIA

Bellroc is seen making their way towards the Heartstone. But what stands between them and the prize is the Guardians of Arcadia. 

Charlemagne, Archie, and Walter soar above. Blinky and Aaarrgh lead an army of trolls. More Akiridion fleets arrive, Aja and Krel at the helm. Varvatos has a brand new robo, too.

Bellroc sneers at their defiance and summons an army of their own : hundreds of big rocky lava monsters.

BATTLE OF THE MOST EPIC OF PROPORTIONS IS A GO.

Trolls are punching, Akiridions are blasting, magicians are casting.

JIM SUITS UP WITH HIS NEW ARMOR AND EXCALIBER AND IS LIKE DON’T THINK BECOMIN’ FOR YA BELLROC FOR THE GOOD OF AAAAAAAALL

Douxie conjures up a spell to send that boy flying onto that Fire Titan.

Toby and Aaarrgh slam and hammer their way through fiery goons. Claire and Aja team up to take down the opposition, noting they should get lunch together sometime. Charlemagne tears through the enemies with his claws and wings. Krel and the Creepslayerz flail about and kick tail anyway. 

Our heroes all cover one another and play off of each other’s strengths and it’s beautiful.

When Douxie’s about to get smothered by lava fists, there’s a flash of lightening and the monsters vaporize. 

Douxie turns to see Zoe with a brigade of hedge wizards. Douxie’s immediately bowled over, smitten.

“About time you showed up...,” Douxie says, in a daze cause wow Zoe’s so pretty.

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of nerve --” Explosions. More lava monsters. Zoe sighs and pats Douxie’s cheek. “Ugh, focus, you big sap!”

The pair are unstoppable together, mowing down the lava monsters in powerful bursts of blue and pink.

DOUXIE’S EYES GO BLUE AND ZOE’S EYES GO PINK EPIC AVATAR STATE RINGS OF MAGIC AS THEY DECIMATE THEIR FOES WITH ROCK MUSIC BLARING YESSSS

And well, Douxie can’t help himself and gives Zoe a good long smooch after they’ve destroyed half of Bellroc’s army.

Toby in the distance : HOW LONG HAS THAT BEEN A THING?????

Archie just groans.

And meanwhile, Jim’s finally facing off with Bellroc. After having one of the most badass fights in the franchise, Jim comes out on top, skewering Bellroc in the stomach with Excaliber.

AND BOOM THEY DID IT GUYS EARTH IS SAVED.

....But not without great cost.

Toby’s been mortally wounded, crushed by the falling pieces of the Fire Titan. There’s the tearful, heartbreaking moment Jim has to say goodbye to his best friend, the one who was there with him through it all.

“We did it, Jimbo...We did it...”

Jim holds Toby in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Claire holds Jim and weeps beside him. Aaarrgh is in hysterics but is calmed to pained whimpers by Blinky. The Arcadia Gang grieves, feeling the painful weight of losing the friends they held so dear....Nomura, Nari, and now Toby.

Time Skip/Montage

Douxie found a proper apartment in Arcadia. He keeps a potted plant with those distinct pink flowers, the flowers Nari loved, on his windowsill. Smiles softly at them every time. 

Scenes of Mary with Darci as she mourns. Steve and Eli hanging out. Douxie and Krel jamming, Krel creating beats and Douxie riffing on his guitar. Aja and Claire going on that lunch date. Archie taking a nap on top of Aaarrgh. Walter playing classical music.

It’s taken a while, but Jim’s starting to feel a little bit better. Douxie, Krel, Steve, and Eli came over for some bro time. Seeing the pain in his eyes, Douxie gives Jim a hug.

The final scene is a picnic at everyone’s favorite spot in Arcadia with a single bench and an awesome view of the town.

Aja and Steve are cuddling. Krel and Eli play with a frisbee. Blinky, Aaarrgh, and Varvatos laugh around a table. Douxie and Zoe, holding hands, are having a lively chat with Claire. Jim serves up a huge plate of enchiladas.

Walter and Barbara announce their engagement. Everyone celebrates. 

EMOTIONAL SPEECH VOICEOVER TIME.

Aja, Varvatos, and Eli depart back to Akiridion-5. Steve honks into a tissue. Krel pats him on the back as he waves to his sister.

Barbara kisses Jim on the forehead before going home with Walter.

Zoe kisses Douxie on the cheek and heads off. 

Steve and Krel are the next to go.

Douxie, Archie around his shoulders, pulls both Jim and Claire into a hug before leaving.

Blinky gives Jim a hug. Aaarrgh nuzzle him, looking sad. 

Jim and Claire hold hands and sit on the bench, gazing out at the town.

EMOTIONAL SPEECH VOICEOVER ENDS T_T

The End.

[britishassistant]

When Villain!Yuu manages to return to their dimension and finds out their minions did, it’s one of the few times that the Supervisor has lived up to their title as heir. The next day the head of the minions of the attempted murder squad was found battered, covered in bird poo, and tied in front of RSA. If Crowley asks, Yuu makes the excuse that they are simply following one of the rules of villainy. If a minion steps out of line, don’t correct, make an example out of them.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Warning for dark under the cut.

There are three items on the desk.

One is a cellphone. It’s a compact, black brick of a thing, the sort that could survive a drop from a window a story up. Its screen is currently dark and silent. It has not buzzed or vibrated, or given any indication that it’s even on.

The second is a glass of clear liquid. The glass looks pretty standard, no fancy plane designs or rectangular shapes. Just a squat round cup with a round lip and clear liquid an inch or so from the top. There are small bubbles forming in the bottom, the longer it remains undisturbed. It doesn’t seem like those are the results of carbonation, or some other nefarious properties.

No. If anything, the cup is there for the third object on the table.

A pair of two pills are sitting innocently by the cup’s side. One is larger, pale pink, and lozenge shaped. The other is smaller, a capsule that’s colored dark green and blue.

The minion swallows. The phlegm feels like it’s lodged in his throat.

There’s a sigh from the other side of the table.

The Supervisor leans forward. The supervillain’s features are slightly drawn, like they’re preparing to undertake an unpleasant chore.

The minion has the insane urge to giggle at the sight.

“So…” The Supervisor splays their hands. “Unfortunately, following reviews of your recent performance, we have found that you are…not a good fit for this business. It’s been determined that it’s in everyone’s best interests for you to be terminated from your current position effective immediately.”

The minion—or rather, ex-minion—gives a shaky nod.

The Supervisor tilts the brim of their top hat up, so they can better make eye contact with him. “You have two choices for your…ah, severance package.”

One hand gestures to the glass and pills. “Option one: you take these. The pink one is a sedative, and it’s up to you whether you take it before or after the other. It’s pretty fast acting, so it shouldn’t matter so much either way. All you’ll know is just falling asleep.”

The other gestures to the phone. “Option two: I make a call to Dr. Crewel. You’ll be transferred to his department. But in the, ah…volunteer capacity. Instead of the minion one. Do you have any questions?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“W-what?” The ex-minion stutters. “B-but…I, I don’t understand?”

“What don’t you understand?” The Supervisor asks, patience in every line of their posture. Like they were an adult helping to explain something complicated to a small child.

This, in spite of the fact that the ex-minon was a decade the supervillain’s senior.

That helps the ex-minion order his thoughts somewhat. “I-I thought the rules for g-getting fired were that the min-minion in question would be turned over to the police for arrest. Or to the local sup-superheroes.”

The Supervisor nods. “That is what happens in most cases, yes. However, in those cases, the termination is contingent more on minion incompetence or betrayal. You and your…friends, regrettably, fall outside that purview.”

The ex-minion’s mouth moves soundlessly. “But…I don’t understand. Isn’t this for betrayal? That I betrayed you?”

The Supervisor’s mouth tightens, even as the rest of their face remains impassive. “That…is another crime you committed, and one that was taken into account when making this decision. But it is far from the main motivating factor behind all this.”

The ex-minion wracks his brain. “But, what…?”

“You attempted to murder a child.” The supervillain exhales, some dark, wounded emotion entering their eyes for the first time. “Another version of myself, true, but an injured, defenseless child. One who had never done anything to you, or anyone else in this world. Who had no involvement in whatever quarrel you have with me. Who nearly bled to death on my roof due to the injuries sustained as a direct result of your attempted murder.”

The Supervisor shakes their head. “And that would be bad enough, especially as I was under the impression that they would at least be cared for in my absence. Except this? This was not an isolated incident, was it? Looking over the behavior of the perpetrators, it’s become clear this is only the culmination of a dangerous trend I should’ve seen and put a stop to ages ago.”

The ex-minion doesn’t think he can breathe.

“The first endangerment of Miss Elena Blackwood back at the bank. The repeated suggestions of attacking elementary, middle or high schools or public playgrounds to divert heroic attention during heists or schemes. The inclination to ignore my orders when I specified that children were to be released immediately if caught up in a hostage situation we organized. The attempted hostage taking of Mr. Cheka Kingscholar while he was my guest.”

The ex-minion tries swallowing again. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “I thought you didn’t know about that.”

He winces at the mindless admission.

The Supervisor’s eyes narrow at him, and fury rolls off them in almost visible waves. There is no doubting the Night Raven’s genetics were used to make them like this.

“I have my ways.”

The ex-minion quails under their glare.

The Supervisor sighs, scrubbing a hand over their eyes. “Do you understand now? You are not being fired for betrayal. You and your cohorts are being terminated for repeated and willful perpetuation of un-villainous crimes of one of the highest orders, in accordance with League Statute A55. So, what’ll it be?”

“Sh-shouldn’t there be a hear-hearing, or, or an appeal, or something?!” The ex-minion begs desperately.

“If you wanted forgiveness, you should have applied to the Royal Sword Association.” The Supervisor rattles off blandly. “We here at Night Raven Corporation specialize in putting the super back into supervillainy.”

The ex-minion slumps. “…I always hated that slogan.”

The Supervisor pulls a commiserating face. “Not some of Dad’s best work, I’ll admit.”

He stares at the pills and at the phone.

“…Which did Miette pick?”

The supervillain pointedly glances towards the glass and its companions.

He snorts. “Naturally. She’d rather be dead rather than be something monstrous like you.”

The Supervisor inclines their head but doesn’t deny his words.

He considers it some more. “…Would I still receive a paycheck? As a volunteer?”

The Supervisor shrugs. “One that’s considerably reduced from what you currently earn, but yes. You would be compensated for your services. And your current life insurance will still be maintained and paid out to those you specify in the event of an accident under Dr. Crewel’s care. Or, indeed, if you take the other option.”

Like he has anyone he wants that money to go to.

His eyes dart between them.

The choice is easy in the end. Miette can call him a coward all she wants beyond the grave, but he’s not letting this thing be the last sight he sees.

“Make the call.”

The supervillain nods, and picks up the phone.

It’s screen lights up as they lift it towards their ear, pressing a button. “Dr. Crewel? Mr. Aston Michaels has expressed his consent to be transferred to the volunteer department. When can we expect pickup? Five minutes? Yes. Yes, this is the last one. Well, thank you for your help. Have a nice day.”

They hang up, and set the phone back down on the table.

Something flickers across their face— distaste? Weariness? Regret? Whatever it is, he hopes it haunts this thing’s nightmares for the rest of its miserable existence. It’s the least it deserves.

The two of them sit there in silence. Then there’s a knocking behind him, and light spills over him as the door is opened.

A pair of minions in impeccable suits step through, nodding to the supervillain, who nods back. Each one of them takes one of his arms and gently pulls him up from his seat.

“I’d say you’re going to be dammed to Hell for this.” He says, almost cheerfully, before they can turn him away. “But I’m pretty sure you need a soul to go down there, and things like you don’t have those.”

There’s a subtle intake of breath from the suited minions on either side of him. He ignores them, his glare fixated on his now ex-boss.

The Supervisor smiles grimly back at him. For some reason, that kind of pisses him off.

“Oh, believe me, Mr. Michaels. I know.”

[hoe4almondmilk]

Safety Net: Chapter 3

Present! Carol Denning/Reader

Trigger Warning: There is mentions of Attempted sexual assault, nothing in detail though. 

“Oh, don’t be like that! Just give me a piece and I won’t make an arrest for reckless driving and possession.” The cop chuckled as he attempted to grab your shoulder.

“I said get the fuck away from me!” you yelled. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as his face approached yours. 

He grabbed you by the shoulders, everything was happening so fast and yet it felt like it was all in slow motion. That's when you grabbed his gun from his waist and shot him.

You gasped, sitting up quickly. Your heart was pounding and your skin was slick with sweat from the nightmare. It took a few moments to finally catch your breath.

“Oh my god.” You groaned quietly, as you rubbed your eyes from exhaustion.

This was your first nightmare in a very long time. The last time you had a nightmare was back when you first arrived at camp but that was years ago and you were on antidepressants. You had almost forgotten how real they felt. How they brought you back to that horrific moment. The moment your life was turned upside down and changed for the worst. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Carol groaned in a grumpy tone from underneath her bunk in a groggy voice interrupting your thoughts.

“Nothing. Just a nightmare.” You replied blankly as you laid back down.

After a few minutes of silence you heard Carol ask “You okay, kid?” Maybe you were delusional from being tired but you could’ve sworn you heard the slightest bit of concern in Carol’s voice.

“Not even a little bit.” You whispered as you attempted to hold back the tears.

It felt almost like hours before you could fall back asleep, scared your nightmare would continue if you closed your eyes.

“Wake the fuck up, Inmate.” C.O. Hellman yelled as he smacked the door of your cell, making a large clap noise that made you jump up from your sleep.

“Okay, I’m awake.” You groaned, as you rubbed your eyes and slid down from your bunk. You must’ve slept in pretty late, considering Carol was absent from her bunk. 

After getting changed into your navy scrubs and brushing your teeth, you made your way out of your cell into the common area. 

You scanned the room to see Carol at her usual spot playing bridge with the other women. 

You and Carol were on good terms now after your agreement the other night. An hour before lights out she’d even spend some time with you, giving you a bridge lesson. Still you still really weren’t sure if you were on that level of familiarity with her yet to just go sit at her table. You looked over to see your two favorite people Piper and Alex and made your way towards them.

“Well, someone slept in pretty late.” Alex said as she looked up from her book.

“Yeah, I had some trouble sleeping last night and I guess my body made up for it.” You groaned and you got comfortable in your seat.

“(L/N), what happened to you the other night? I can still see the bruises on your neck.” Piper inquired.

“Oh, shit.” Alex hissed as she leaned in to take a closer look at the now yellow bruising on your neck.

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Your hand rubbed your neck as a pathetic attempt to shield the bruises. 

“Was it Badison?” Piper’s eyes widened. “You see Alex, I told you Badison is fucking crazy.” 

“Chapman, shush!” You hushed Piper. “Seriously, watch what you say around here.” 

“So it was Badison?” Piper whispered.

“Jesus, yes, Chapman. Listen, I have it taken care of, okay?.” You groaned, you did not want what happened to you the other night in the showers happening to her.

“If you say so.” Piper sighed as she looked over to Alex in hopes for a response. Alex just shrugged her shoulders. 

“Well, speak of the devil.” Alex warned as Badison made her way over to your table.”

“Hey lezzies, sorry to interrupt but Carol wants to see Mouse.” Badison chuckled. “Now.” She demanded.

“Well, off I go.” You sighed as you got up from your spot following the rambunctious blonde.

It’s safe to say you probably should’ve sat with Carol when you entered the common room. Hopefully, she’s not too upset. How could you have known? You gulped out of nervousness. What if you did piss her off? If Badison could get two girls to jump you in the shower imagine the damage Carol could do if she really wanted to. 

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you made it over to Carol’s table. Akers, Creech, Teng, Brock, Chambal and of course Carol were all sitting at the table. Badison sat down in front of Carol. You could feel not only her eyes on you but the eyes of the other women who sat around Carol. 

“Brock, move.” Carol said not looking up from her cards.

Brock rolled her eyes as she got up and away from her spot next Carol.

Carol looked up from her the cards in her hands and met your eyes with hers. “Sit.” 

You nodded and sat next to her, filling in Brock’s spot.

“It’s your turn to switch in.” Carol slid the deck of cards to you.

“What is she doing here?” Teng grunted obviously annoyed by your presence at the table. 

You couldn’t really blame her, Badison did order her to go jump you and made you out to be an enemy, yet here you were sitting next to Carol playing bridge.

Carol looked up from her cards and glared at Teng. “She works with us now.”

“So, Mouse. What the fuck are you in here for?” Badison smirked. You could feel the eyes of everyone at the table on you, except Carol who was too focused on the cards in her hands. 

“I’d really rather not talk about it.” You replied as you drew a couple of cards trying to focus on the game. 

You actually hadn’t told really anyone about why you were in prison in the first place but camp was small so word got around and so did rumors about what you had done, most of which weren’t true. You didn’t care, let them think what they want. You wanted to do your time and leave this place behind. But of course, your luck, the riot happened as you only had three years left of your seven year sentence. 

You were at maximum now, things were different here. You were surrounded by some of the most violent types of offenders. Maybe you should’ve been here in the first place. No, you shouldn’t. You did what you had to do.

 “Probably something petty, you did come here from minimum.” She chuckled. “Ain’t nothin tough about you.” It took everything in you not to roll your eyes at her. 

“Madison.” Carol cautioned with a glare. After a few moments of silence, Carol asked “Are you gonna tell us?”, as she glanced over at you waiting for an answer.

Should you lie? No, no definitely not. Carol was the boss, she could probably have a CO find out for her if she really wanted to and she'd have your head if she found out you lied to her.

 “I shot a cop.” You muttered as you pulled another card from the deck. You looked up when you noticed the wave of silence that washed over the entire table. Everyone was shocked to say the least. Even Carol whose face normally wore a blank expression looked slightly surprised with one of her eyebrows raised. 

“Damn, Mouse is a cop killer!” Creech laughed. 

“Yo, that’s badass!” Akers joined in with Creech. Both women were laughing in unison.

“Bullshit.” Badison laughed. “You just want to look tough.”

“It’s true.” You replied, as you sank further into your seat. Just wanting the attention to shift away from you. 

And unfortunately you were telling the truth but you couldn’t blame her for not believing you or anyone for that matter. You hated people finding out what you did. You didn’t necessarily regret what happened but you hated the way people saw you after you told them. Especially in prison, it gave a false image of you. You weren’t a violent person nor did you ever try to appear as one.

“Then why were you in minimum “cop killer”?'' Badison leaned forward, asking almost as if she was challenging you. Everything was a competition to her. 

You slammed the cards down on the table. “Not that it’s any of your business, Badison, but I didn’t kill him and it was self defense.” 

“I’m not buying it.” Badison continued.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you, Badison.” You scoffed, as you once again tried to center your focus back to the game. 

“Well that’s a shame cause you really sho-“

“Madison.” Carol interrupted her mid sentence “Stop.” Her eyes burning onto the loud blonde, obviously having enough of Badison starting petty pointless fights. 

You tried your best to stop the corners of your mouth from curving into a small smile. It was nice knowing Carol was keeping her end of the deal. 

Badison gulped and did as Carol said. 

“You know what,” Carol put her deck of cards down. “Madison, Scat.”

“What?” Badison asked almost dumbfounded.

“Unless you can play bridge well, all of a sudden, go. You’re annoying me.” Carol continued her glare at Badison.

“Fine.” Badison stood up from her spot and slowly trudged off, anger obvious in every step. 

Normally you would’ve been scared but you weren’t. Badison knew she was already crossing the line with Carol’s patience. She knew not to fuck with you like she did last time. 

“Let’s start over.” Carol sighed as she began to reshuffle the thick deck of playing cards.

After an hour of non stop rounds of bridge, Carol decided to take a break. She needed to talk to Badison about their new haul of pills. You weren’t complaining, your ass was starting to hurt from sitting on the hard plastic seat for so long. You headed up the stairs to your cell to lay down for a bit. You let out a quiet groan, as you rubbed your lower back. Your lower back definitely needed a break too.

“Psst.” You heard a voice whisper to you right before you walked into your cell, stopping you in your tracks. God it better not be fuckin Badison. You looked over and almost screamed. It was Nicky. 

“Long time no see, Doll.” Nicky chuckled as she leaned against the custodial cart.

“Nicky,” It took everything in you not to run into her arms and hug the absolute shit out of her. “I- How-... What are you doing here?” 

You couldn’t believe your eyes, you hadn’t seen Nicky since you guys were in Ad Seg but you two couldn’t really even have a real conversation because of the asshole guards. 

Nicky was one of the few real friends you had at camp. You remember the day she first arrived to camp. You two had been inseparable since and not that you would ever admit it but at one point you had a slight crush on her. You never mentioned it nor would you ever mention it to her because you value your friendship with Nicky more.

“What, not happy to see me?” She chuckled as she faked a pout.

You looked around to make sure no one was looking, seriously not needing another jumping. You smiled looking back at her, “I’m so happy, if I could hug you and not get jumped I would.” 

Nicky’s smile quickly faded when her eyes landed on your neck, “A second time? What the fuck happened?” 

You groaned, damn how long were these bruises gonna stay. “I don’t want to talk about it, it won’t happen again.”

 Nicky rolled her eyes and she gripped the mop in her hands tighter, her anger was obvious.“Who did that to you? I swear I’ll-“

“You’ll what? You’ll get jumped too, Nicky. It’s not like camp. Red can’t protect us here. Where is she anyway? Is she in D-Block with you?” The last time you saw Red was in Ad Seg.

“No, She must still be in Ad Seg.” Nicky looked hurt answering that. You wanted to hug her. It was painful knowing you couldn’t. 

“How are you, Nicky? Seriously, I fuckin miss you.” You could feel your eyes watering up. 

Nicky sniffled, “I miss you too,” She wiped her eyes, “You know, I’ve been better, Lorna and her bunkie adopted a pack of rats so I’ve had to hear about that for the past four days.” Nicky chuckled.

“Ew, that’s gross.” You chuckled softly.

“Nichols!” CO Blake yelled. “There’s a spill down here!” 

“Heigh-ho, off to work I go.” Nicky groaned, as she started to wheel her cart away, She turned around to say “I miss you, kid.” sadly.

“I miss you too, Nicky. More than you could know.” You replied, you slowly turned around trying to soak up as much of her image as you could before you made your way back into your cell. 

You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes before anyone saw. You hated it here. None of you deserved to be in here. You wanted your prison family back even if it was a dysfunctional mess.

You crawled up your bunk and into your bed, plopping face down into your very thin pillow. Praying that you’d just wake up from all of this and be back home with your family before all of this mess happened. Prison was a tortuous hell. 

Snapping you out of the hypnotizing darkness that was your pillow, you heard, “It’s barely noon and you’re asleep again?”

You lifted your head up to see Carol leaning against the entrance of the cell.

You let out a groan as you flipped onto your back, as you faced the ceiling. “I wasn’t sleeping.” 

“That’s surprising.” Carol chuckled as she strolled into the cell and sat herself down on her bed. “You’re so young, what do you have to be tired about?” 

You rolled your eyes, you absolutely hated it when people told you that, it was so annoying. “You know, that’s really invalidating.” You sat up on your bed, leaning your body towards the edge of the bed so you could look at her.

Carol was hardly listening, too focused on her magazine and lollipop. “Invalidating, how so?” She gave you a glance, taking a minuscule break from her scantily clad men.

“You’re just assuming, I have nothing to worry about solely because of the fact that I'm young. I don’t even feel young because of the place. Prison has robbed me of my youth. I should be in college.” You looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I should be anywhere but here.” 

Carol was silent for a moment, looking at you. “How long have you been in here?”

“I was eighteen, when it happened. I just graduated high school.” 

“Eighteen.” Carol repeated, She chuckled. “You were about my age when I first got here.” 

“You’ve been in here since you were eighteen?” You asked, you were shocked. Carol’s spent her whole life in this place and by the looks of how she runs things here, she wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon. 

“Crazy, isn’t it? It’s gone by so excruciatingly slow yet time flew by so fast.” She sighed as she removed her glasses from her face to rub her eyes. There was a hint of sadness and yet some passive aggressiveness in her voice. “It was originally just twenty-five years but I was betrayed by someone I cared about and so I got an extra thirty stacked on top.” She leaned her head against the wall of her bunk.

An “I’m sorry, Carol.” was all you could say, was there anything else you could say? This woman has spent her whole life in this place and was most likely going to die here, yet for some reason you thought you had the right to complain about a measly seven years.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m different now. I’ve learned not to trust anyone here so easily.” She put her glasses back on her face. There was a moment of silence. “So, exactly why did you shoot that cop, tough girl?” 

“It’s hard to talk about.” You muttered. “I have so many mixed feelings about what happened.”

“Sit down here with me.” Carol invited, scooting over to where her pillow laid.

You nodded as you climbed down from your bed to hers, not wasting this act of kindness from Carol. You knew she was cold blooded and was rarely kind to anyone. So far though, she made an exception for you. You just took it as her being nice because you were new and could offer something for her business.

You sat down on her bed, pulling your knees to your chest. “I didn’t intend to shoot him. That was the last thing I wanted to do but I didn’t have any other choice.” Your voice became hoarse as you tried to hold back the tears. 

Carol watched and listened to you in silence. 

“I had to, I wasn’t going to let him rape me. That’s what he wanted. I saw how he looked at me and how he grabbed me. I can still feel his grasp on my arms.” Tears fell from your eyes. Three years later and it was still so hard to talk about. You should be getting proper counseling, not the bullshit you were getting from Healy back at camp.

“Is that why you woke up last night?” Carol asked. You looked over at her and her expression was soft. Before it was a word that couldn’t be put with Carol. She was hard, tough and cold. Yet somehow she was showing you sympathy.

You nodded. “This was my first nightmare in years. My last one was when I first arrived at camp.” You wiped your tears away and chuckled. “What’s so fucked up is I’m the victim and yet I'm the one in prison. They decided his gunshot wound was his punishment.” 

You flinched when you felt Carol’s hand touch your back. Your muscles slowly relaxed when she began to rub your back. She didn’t say anything for a moment there. She didn’t need to. Her hand on your back was all she needed to say. This was the first time in a while you had felt someone show you slightest bit of affection. It was nice. You were touch starved.

“Thank you.” You gave Carol a small smile.

And she smiled back at you.

[jaskierswolf]

I’ve got a prompt for you! 💜

Ok, I have no idea why I got this idea just now but it opposed into my head and you’re my fave for Modern AUs so I’m passing it onto you! So like modern college au ski trip where Jaskier twists his ankle on the slopes and has to stay behind while everyone else does a moonlight hike or something. Geralt also stays behind and we get some fireside cuddling. Maybe Lam, Eskel, Aiden, and Coen are there to tease or ship it or something when everyone gets back ☺️ Unsure if it’s happening in a cabin or hotel/resort lobby. But yeah. I’m placing it at your feet, do with it what you will 🤗

(geraskier-trashh)

I’m sorry this took so long!! But here you go my darling!!

Ships: Geraskier and Lambden. Also on AO3

Warnings: Minor injury, and sexual references. _______

Geralt was pacing in the lobby of their hotel. It was nearly half past five and Jaskier should have been back by now. They were in different groups for their ski lessons, Geralt being a more advanced skier than his friend. All the other ski school groups has returned over an hour ago. Only Aiden and Jaskier remained uncounted for. The sun had crept behind the snowy peaks of the surrounding mountains. The ski lift had stopped working and yet there was still no sign of Jaskier and Aiden.

Lambert was lounged out on one of the sofas by the bar, tossing a stress ball into the air and catching it again in a never-ending rhythm. “Relax.” Lambert sighed. “They’ll be fine. They probably just decided to après-ski”

Geralt growled at his brother. “No, not tonight. Jask knows that we’re night skiing tonight. He hasn’t shut up about it all week. He’s been looking forward to skiing to together for a change.”

Lambert snorted. “Don’t know why you’re letting him. He’ll slow you down.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “And you’re willingly skiing with a snowboarder.”

Aiden was learning to ski in Jaskier’s intermediate group after lunch but Lambert’s boyfriend’s real skill lay with the snowboard. He tore up the slope when he was on his board and spent most of morning in the snow parks doing tricks and flips off the jumps and rails that could be found there.

Lambert grinned dopily. “The things we do for love, white wolf.”

“How come you aren’t more worried? Your boyfriend is missing too.”

Lambert shrugged and ran a hand through the thick red curls on his head. “Ski school said all the groups were back. You know what Aiden and Jaskier are like when they’re together. I’m surprised they’ve not been arrested yet. Our boyfriends are terrible for each other.”

“Not my boyfriend.” Geralt sighed. No matter how many times Geralt said it, Lambert still insisted on calling Jaskier his boyfriend.

“Their phones probably died.” Lambert suggested, completely ignoring Geralt’s protest.

Geralt shook his head. “Jaskier would never let that happen, besides he has a portable charger.”

Lambert rolled his eyes. “They’ll be fine, Geralt.”

Geralt continued his pacing in the lobby and Lambert restarted his game of catch. The thud of the ball landing in his hand was driving Geralt mad. Every catch was a second passed that Jaskier hadn’t returned. He was having visions of the pair of them being lost off the side of the mountain. The idiots had probably decided to take the lift back up without their instructor and gotten injured as a result. Not even the picturesque hotel could calm his nerves. It was warm and bathed in a soft yellow glow. There were paintings of the ski resort hung on the walls. Some of the paintings showed the resort as Geralt knew it, but there were several of the mountains with luscious green grass. Edelweiss flowers were often found engraved into the wooden frames. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself, the warm scent of hot spiced wine filled his nose but it wasn’t enough. He needed the startling blue of Jaskier’s eyes and his gentle chamomile perfume.

The hotel was gorgeous and it was expensive, too expensive but Jaskier’s parents had insisted that Jaskier and his friends had needed a break. The trip had been paid for in full before any of them could protest the cost. The gang insisted on paying for their own drinks though. They refused to let Jaskier’s parents, no matter how rich they were, foot the bill on that one. The hotel overlooked the main slope, a blue run that ran all the way into the village, ending by the bubble lift and a collection of ski rental shops and bars. The best bar for après-ski though was half way up the mountain. Everyone knew that. From their hotel they could often see the drunk skiers and boarders trying to make their way down the hill, at least they could when they weren’t amongst them. Geralt always tried to remain alert enough that he could help Jaskier down. His friend always seemed to forget the steep hill that lay between them and their beds. If it was too bad they would take the snowmobile shuttle back down but Jaskier called him a party pooper when they tried.

From their hotel they could ski in and out of the boot room. It was a luxury Geralt had never known in all his years. He was used to trekking through the snowy villages with his skis on his back, and Jaskier’s too in recent years. The brunet would always whine and pout until Geralt helped to carry his skis. He didn’t mind, not really.

The doors opened letting in an icy breeze. Geralt’s eyes snapped up and the noise of Lambert’s stress ball stopped, bouncing across the tiled floor. Geralt heard the shuffle of fabric but he didn’t look round. Aiden was half carrying a limping Jaskier through the door. Jaskier’s arm was around Aiden’s neck and he had his ski poles in his other hand as a support. Geralt rushed over to help.

“Jaskier!” He growled. “What the fuck happened?”

“We went shopping after skiing. I thought I would be able to buy that painting of the horses you like… as a gift.” Jaskier whined. “But I slipped on some bloody ice. I sprained my ankle. It fucking hurts.”

“Nothing’s broken.” Aiden noted, his soft french accent coming through more strongly like it always did when he got emotional. “We’ve just got back from the hospital.”

Geralt was furious. They’d been all the way to the fucking hospital and no one had said a bloody word.

“Now before you say anything, wolf.” Aiden said sharply. “He landed on his phone and it broke.”

“And yours?” Geralt asked with a raised eyebrow.

Lambert snorted. “As if he charged it last night. He’s a fucking nightmare.” Lambert patted Geralt on the shoulder and then wrapped his arms around Aiden’s waist, burying his face into the snowboarder’s neck. “Hey kitten.”

Geralt hummed and he scooped Jaskier up into his arms. His ankle was clearly hurting him and it would help to take the pressure off of it. Geralt watched his brother for a few seconds, noting the way he melted into Aiden’s embrace, and felt bad. Lambert had been worried…. very worried. He’d just hidden that from Geralt because Geralt had been a fucking mess.

And Jaskier was only his friend.

Friend.

The word felt bitter on his tongue.

How long had it been since he’d thought of Jaskier as a friend? He’d been completely gone on the man for at least a few years now. It had been a completely daft revelation. Jaskier hadn’t been doing anything special or even particularly charming at the time. He’d been asleep on Geralt’s bed after Geralt had gotten back from a pub night with his brothers. The brunet had been drooling all over Geralt’s pillows and wearing one of his shirts as he sprawled like a starfish over the bed, and he’d been snoring.

Geralt had watched his friend sleep for a few minutes before he’d realised the snoring wasn’t even irritating, hell he even found it… cute?

And with that the epiphany had hit him like a truck. He was in love with his best friend.

He’d grabbed a spare pair of boxers from his drawers and gone to sleep in Jaskier’s room. It had taken all his self control not to slid into the single bed next to Jaskier.

He’d been in love with him ever since and stoically ignoring it the best he could. Jaskier was very open in his feelings. If he loved Geralt then Geralt would know. His friend wasn’t exactly subtle.

“Are you alright?” He murmured as he carried Jaskier over to the sofas by the large open fireplace in the lounge area.

Jaskier’s arms were wrapped around his neck and Jaskier snuggled up against his chest. It hurt in some ways. It could be so easily interpreted as something more than it was. Geralt wouldn’t change it for the world. As much as he wished for more, he lived for the calm moments of intimacy that fell between them.

“Yeah.” Jaskier mumbled, his face red from the cold. “It’s sore but I’ll live.”

“You won’t be able to ski tonight.”

Jaskier pouted and groaned. “Geralt! We never get to ski together.”

Geralt chuckled and dumped Jaskier onto the sofa before sliding down next to him. Jaskier shrugged out of his bulky teal ski coat and pulled his snood over his head. His hair messed up completely but Geralt thought it looked endearing. Jaskier dropped the layers on the floor before curling up against Geralt’s chest.

“If it’s alright by the morning then we’ll skip ski school.” He suggested.

“Hmmph.”

“That’s a whole day together.” Geralt draped his arm around Jaskier and pulled him closer.

“It’s more romantic at night.” Jaskier sighed.

Geralt’s heart stammered in his chest and he felt the heat rising in his cheeks. “Romantic?”

“I meant… fuck.” Jaskier tried to shuffle away but Geralt grabbed his arm and then brought his hand up to Jaskier’s cheek.

“Romantic?” He asked again, his voice low and unsure in his words.

“Ah well. Freudian slip.” Jaskier bit his lip and his soft blue eyes were looking everywhere except at Geralt.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes, darling?”

“Did. Did you want it to be…”

“Yes.” Jaskier answered too quickly. “Of course I do. The whole world knows that, Geralt.” He covered Geralt’s hand with his own and his cheek pressed into Geralt’s palm. “But I know you don’t and that’s alright, dear friend.”

“I don’t?” Geralt asked with a smirk.

Jaskier frowned. “You don’t… Do you?”

Geralt tilted his head and brushed his thumb along Jaskier’s cheek. “I. I do yeah.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. His face flushed even darker than before. Geralt usually would have said the soft glow of the fire was to blame but he was starting to wonder.

“This could. Well, I mean.” Jaskier gestured to the fireplace. “This could also be… romantic?”

Geralt let out a shaky breath and rested his forehead against Jaskier’s, his eyes shutting on their own accord. “Yeah?”

“Hmm.” Jaskier agreed and Geralt could feel his warm breath against his skin.

“Careful. “ He murmured. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

“God forbid.” Jaskier laughed and captured Geralt’s lips in a kiss.

Geralt hummed against Jaskier’s lips, still cold from the icy weather outside. Jaskier’s hands slid into Geralt’s hair and Geralt couldn’t resist pushing Jaskier down onto the sofa so his back hit the soft cushions. His lips brushed from Jaskier’s lips along his jaw and he nipped at the soft skin of his swanlike neck.

“Geralt…” Jaskier gasped quietly and a hand squeezed his arse.

Geralt gave a low growled before sucking hard at the pale skin under his lips, biting gently until a dark bruise began to form. Once he was satisfied by the mark he kissed the tender skin before pressing their lips together once more. Jaskier moaned into the kiss and one of his legs wrapped around Geralt’s arse.

“Oi!”

They broke apart, panting and red faced. Jaskier groaned and buried his face against Geralt’s shoulder. “Fuck.” He muttered.

Geralt smirked at Lambert, not caring that they’d been caught. He was too happy to care. “Brother.”

“You have a room.” Lambert snapped. “Use it.”

“Darling, it’s young love. Be nice.” Aiden purred and pressed a kiss to Lambert’s cheek. “We were going to see if you were still coming out skiing tonight but I see you’ve finally got your head out of your arse instead. Have fun boys, be safe. Don’t do anything I would do.”

Geralt laughed. “Isn’t that supposed to be don’t do what you wouldn’t do?”

Aiden winked. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do, white wolf.”

Jaskier finally emerged from Geralt’s shoulder and held his hand out. Aiden high-fived it with a smirk before Lambert dragged his boyfriend away towards the stairs. “We need to get ready kitten.”

“But darling.” Aiden said loudly, making sure everyone in the lobby could hear. “I’ve been waiting all day to get you out of those clothes.”

“Fuck.” Lambert cursed. “Little shit, upstairs.”

“You love me!”

“Fuck knows why. Come on.” Lambert gave him a shove up the stairs.

“Stop acting like you’re the one in charge, wolf.” Aiden sang sweetly. “Everyone knows how much you like to beg for—”

Aiden’s words were cut off by Lambert’s hand over his mouth.

Geralt grinned before turning back to Jaskier. He gently brushed Jaskier’s hair out of his eyes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “You wanna take this upstairs?” He asked gently.

To his surprise Jaskier shook his head. “Not yet.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am very interested in continuing this upstairs.” Jaskier gently thrust his hips up to make his point. Geralt groaned softly as he felt Jaskier’s erection rub against his. “But I’d like to enjoy the fire a little longer first. It really is rather romantic. A warm fireplace in an alpine hotel with snowy mountains outside.”

“Romantic bastard.” Geralt laughed and bumped their noses together gently.

“Yes, but I am your romantic bastard.” Jaskier paused and licked his lips. “If you’ll have me.”

Geralt sat up, his legs straddling Jaskier’s waist. He rested his hands on Jaskier’s chest. “Mine.” He said softly. “And I’m yours, if you’ll have me?”

Jaskier laughed, his blues eyes crinkling in the corners and Geralt’s heart felt warmer at the sound his melodic laugh. “Of course I’ll have you, you daft idiot.”

Geralt grinned and leant back down to rest his head on Jaskier’s chest. “Hmm.” He replied, hoping Jaskier would understand his words. If anyone could translate then it would be Jaskier, but he was suddenly feeling almost overwhelmed by the emotions in his chest, the happiness. Words just didn’t seem like enough.

Jaskier’s fingers gently combed through his hair and he let his eyes close as he focused on the steady flutter of Jaskier’s heartbeat. “I love you too.” Jaskier murmured. Geralt smiled against Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier heartbeat raced a little faster.

“Mine.” Geralt repeated in a whisper.

“Yours.” Jaskier agreed. __________

Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard  @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @caspertheassholeghost @feraljaskier 

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (4)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START  / PREV / NEXT

Doctor Wada makes an unscheduled appearance the same morning. Kakashi has the doctor’s schedule memorised and knows the man usually spends his first work hour in his office before checking in with various patients. The change is not unexpected.

“Ms Iori finished her rounds, marked everything as normal and handed the ward off without incident.” Wada and one of the floor’s morning shift nurses talk, voices lowered, too quiet for a regular person to pick up.

“It was called in around 4:15 am. We confirmed it as a burst blood vessel behind his quirked-eye, but we don’t know what triggered it. Without examining the eye itself it is hard to draw any definite conclusions. Since we don’t know what his quirk does, we didn’t want to risk staff safety without a specialist on hand.”

“Nothing else? No other symptoms?” Wada asks.

“No external bleeding. No signs of irritation around the eye socket. Clear, coherent verbal responses from the patient. Vitals are stable.  The dressings on the eye were changed yesterday, and nothing was flagged then either.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Depressed at the thought of what amounted to a forced long-term infiltration mission, Kakashi’s attention drifts away from the hushed conversation. Kakashi has never been assigned to any extended infiltrations. Long, tedious things that they were. Jōnin were usually too valuable to waste on them. Even before he had made jōnin, his skillset lent itself to tracking, assassination, ambush and one on one combat not undercover assignments. It was just his luck -or maybe it was karma-that he had been shunted into one. Three years of ‘mingling’ amongst these soft-acting civilians, waiting to build enough chakra for an attempt at a technique he wasn’t even sure would work. It was enough to make even the most battle-hardened shinobi depressed. 

Maybe he should run off and hide somewhere. He would skulk around for three years avoiding the locals. Less of a hassle that way. Kakashi lets out a weary breath.

“See if you can bump up that MRI. We need to make sure this isn’t anything serious,” Wada’s voice breaks through his musing as the doctor starts in the direction of Kakashi’s bed. The nurse he is talking with nods and leaves.

“Well, you have certainly had an eventful night,” Wada greats when he draws near, leaning in to visually scan Kakashi, “Let’s see what we have going on. Can you close your left eye for me so I can unwrap it?”

 He habitually pushes down his natural discomfort at having a stranger close to his sharingan as the doctor reaches to tilt Kakashi’s head to the side for better access. If he was going to be stuck here then he should maintain his complacent, harmless persona. At least, until he leaves the hospital. Besides, if they had wanted to hurt him, they would have done it while he was unconscious.

“No swelling around your quirked-eye and the bleeding has stopped, that’s a good sign. We’ll run a few tests and get to bottom of this, not to worry.”

“Yeah. About that,” Kakashi rubs the back of his head to look sheepish and apologetic, “I might have tested out my, eh, quirk. You know…I wanted to see what it would do…”

There is a beat of silence, the older man drawing away, too surprised to respond.

“I think it lets me memorise things it sees?” Kakashi continues. Even if he wasn’t 100% sure about what he would do next, he is not about to abandon his shaky amnesia cover story.

“Of all the reckless, irresponsible decisions!” the doctor snaps out of his surprise moving straight into anger, “I expressly told you to wait and not to mess with it. You had no idea what sort of quirk it was! What if you had injured someone or yourself.” The concern seems pretty genuine and Kakashi almost feels bad for manipulating him.

“Young people these days…honestly. No patience.”

Young? It had been a while since anyone has called him that. Kakashi is practically ancient by shinobi standards. The response prompts a semi mournful, almost amused sigh from him, “I know, I know. I just wanted some sort of clue as to how I got here.”

The doctor takes a frustrated breath, calming “Yes. I know it’s frustrating, being restless and hold up in this bed for three straight weeks, but there is a procedure to these things. You got lucky that the only side effect was a burst blood vessel. Next time you want to test your quirk we’ll make sure it is in a controlled environment with an expert on hand. I don’t care if you have some sort of passive regeneration, quirks can be dangerous. The hospital has offsite testing facilities for a reason.”

“Yes. I understand. I won’t do it again,” he says dutifully and gets a huff of disbelief and a head shake.

“You better not.”

A pause.

“So.”

“So?” Kakashi raises a brow.

“So what did you discover? Explain it to me again.” Wada motions, impatient, repositioning a nearby chair so he can sit comfortably beside the bed.  

“It lets me remember things…” Kakashi had given a lot of thought to what he wanted his fake ‘quirk’ to do without giving too much away, “I’m pretty sure I remember anything it looks at perfectly.”

A somewhat true explanation, in that recoding information and prefect recall was one facet of the sharingan; a side effect of its primary function which was to copy ninjustu and taijustu. The explanation also played into the diagnosis Wada had already written into his medical files, making it more believable.

“Then, lucky for you, something good came of your reckless behaviour.”

Kakashi just smiles which elicits the beginnings of another lecture. “Not that you should ever take quirk safety lightly. Quirk licenses exist for a reason. People can’t go about throwing their quirks around willynilly. A licence, I might add, that you don’t have.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

After witnessing several televised reports on police arresting people for quirk misuse Kakashi knows the people here, for whatever reason, are leery when it comes to using their abilities. To the point where they actively outlaw it. He is banking on Wada being sympathetic enough not to push the matter.  

Wada sighs again, “I’ll write it up as accidental use this time. Now. If your quirk lets you remember everything perfectly then what about your past memories. Any change on that front?”

“No. Still gone.”

“I see. That might mean the part of the brain linked to its memorisation function was damaged, disrupting the memories stored by the quirk,” Wada rubs his chin thoughtfully, “We’ll have to run a few more tests…a lot easier now that we know what it does I suppose.” Good. That was the conclusion he wanted Wada to come to.

“Alright, before we get to testing, were there any other side effects. Aches, pains, fatigue?”

Even as the man asks, he is pulling out a familiar penlight to shine in Kakashi’s regular eye.

“No. Nothing.”

What follows is his standard check-up routine. His vitals are recorded, his head checked over, the area around his sharingan examined thoroughly. Again. Well, as thoroughly as it could be examined without uncovering it. Next is an inspection of the chest wound he now knows is from Obito alongside a glance over his shoulder, arm and leg. Wada nods to himself as he goes, signalling that all is well.

“Your blood pressure is a little high for my liking. I’m guessing you didn’t sleep much last night what with how you were messing around with your quirk. Make sure you get a good night’s sleep tonight,” Wada instructs as he fits Kakashi with a padded eyepatch instead of the usual wrap of bandages. He pauses to wait for a nod of confirmation.

“I will,” he blatantly lies. Kakashi hasn’t had a proper night sleep since waking up the first time, dozing for shortened intervals only. With so many squishy doctors around he doesn’t want to accidently hurt one of them should he be woken from a nightmare. It did put additional strain on his body.

Doctor Wada peers at him, “We’ll give you another week of monitoring then get some authorised quirk testing done. A brain scan as well. Depending on what we find, we’ll see what we can do about getting you a diagnosis and then discharged.”

“Hmm,” he answers, noncommittally. Not like he has anywhere else to go until then. If this were Konoha, he would have taken off long before now and seen to his remaining injuries alone. This would be the first time in a long while that he is waiting for an official discharge. 

Guess he would be finding out how the hospital dealt with amnesiac patients after they healed. In Konoha, a displaced citizen would be given a menial labour job as part of the village’s many reconstruction projects and sent on their way. But this wasn’t Konoha and he should really stop with the comparisons.  

He needs to decide what he wants to do: Take off, find somewhere secluded and wait the years out. Or hang around to try and salvage the situation. This world did have a lot of interesting technology so there might be value in getting a better feel for the society here. Maybe he would find something useful to take back as an apology for abandoning everyone…

What a mess this all was.

...

...

...

The following week has Kakashi splitting his time between gathering supplies for a chakra storage seal and reading through Wada’s patient files to get a sense for his upcoming quirk tests and ‘brain-scan.’

He also takes the time to read through everything else Wada has in his office - mainly medical journals - to better understand the biological differences inherent in a place without chakra. Primarily, the people were physically weaker. However, there were a lot of mutations or ‘secondary quirk factors’ which reinforced the body to better deal with the stress of the primary quirk. All interesting and potentially relevant information to remember when he got into fights. Once he knew a person’s quirk he would be able to guess how their body was reinforced and act accordingly. A fire quirk would make someone naturally heat resistant but not impact resistant, is what Kakashi concludes as he re-reads the profile of current number two hero ‘Endeavour.’ The magazines gifted to him by Iori all contain a statistical breakdown of the top 10 heroes, their strengths, weaknesses, and their criminal apprehension and crime prevention rates. It is a list that rarely changes between issues. He commits it all to memory, idly planning out combat strategies that didn’t involve obvious ninjutsu or chakra use. It helps pass the time when he is not trying to make sense of what he sees on television or stalking various people around the hospital. 

At the end of the week, he steals Wada’s fountain pen, adding it to his growing pen hoard which he stashes in a vent on the roof. The storage seal he wants to make is complex and would need ink to complete.  A mix between a chakra-draining-seal-trap and a storage scroll, it is well on its way to completion. 

The seal would drain his chakra at a consistent and manageable rate, store it efficiently,  and give him a way to turn the chakra drain off and on at will. Also, as a precaution, he includes an emergency stop in case his chakra levels became dangerously low, so it didn’t accidentally kill him if he fell unconscious.

The seal would need to be positioned somewhere on his body in a spot where the doctors wouldn’t immediately notice. He doesn’t what to explain why he suddenly has a tattoo.  If he had had access to properly made fūinjutsu ink, the seal would be invisible. Alas, he would have to make do with chakra-infused pen ink.

Kakashi manages to keep himself busy enough that he expertly avoids making any concrete decision on what he wants to do with the next three years.

.

Note: this is slowly turning into a medical drama

NEXT

[nayutai]

Bad Boy Bakery

↠ Pairing Yeosang x Female OC

↠ Genre fluffy dirty angst

↠ Word Count 11.806

↠ Warnings infidelity (kinda sorta), mutual pining, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), foul language, crude jokes, fingering, tattooed yeosang, mentions of criminal activity

↠ Summary Yeosang has a storied past and most of it is documented at the local police station. That’s the past though. These days he’s too busy running a semi-successful bakery with his best friends. After securing an order for the engagement party of well-known socialite Ivy Maxwell, he thinks his business might finally be taking off. He may have bitten off more than he could chew though.

It’s decided. Yeosang is going back to jail. Why he thought hiring the seven other misfits he used to run with to work in his bakery was a good idea he’ll never know. Bad Boy Bakery was supposed to be his way to get his life back on the right track and all these heathens do is test him every single day. He does a quick mental calculation of how much money is stashed around his house and he’s positive he’s got enough to post bail for a simple assault charge, but then again they might try to make an example of him considering his impressive arrest record. With the way he’s being tested at this moment though, he’s willing to spend every penny if it means he gets to beat Mingi into oblivion.

“Mingi, I swear to God if you fuck up another batch of egg whites I’m going to shove that whisk in your ear and beat your brains.” He glares at the clumsy giant vigorously whisking a bowl full of egg whites that already look like they’re begging for mercy. They have to have a full dessert spread ready for an engagement party that’s taking place in less than six hours and Mingi has ruined more eggs than Yeosang is even comfortable counting.

“Man, shut up. I did three years upstate. My arms are too damn strong for this which is exactly why I told your dumb ass to do it.” Everybody groans out loud at having to hear that exact phrase for what has to be the millionth time.

“That was over a year ago and you haven’t lifted anything heavier than a bag of flour ever since. Give it a rest.” Wooyoung garners a round of hearty laughter at his dig, looking quite pleased with himself at successfully bashing his friend.

“I make up for it by jacking off five times a day instead of four now so my point still stands.”

“I hope you wash your hands just as much.” The group of tattooed bakers loudly express their disgust when Mingi gives them nothing but a devious grin in response. Mingi, on the other hand, is phased by neither his friends’ disgust not Yeosang’s bristling anger as he dumps his third attempt at the egg whites into the garbage. So much for third time’s the charm.

Yep, Yeosang is going back to jail. 

Ivy is resigned as she carefully sweeps her brush across both of her cheekbones. The glittery gold of the highlight powder left in its wake perfectly complements the rich sepia tone of her skin. She’s just as precise in the application of her lipstick. Slowly, but surely, painting her lips a deep purple. She sighs as she gives herself a final once over in her vanity mirror. The inky black curls that normally adorn her head like a crown have been forced into straightened submission indicative of her mother’s urge to impress the crowd of people that Ivy can already hear beginning to gather downstairs. Her left hands feels uncomfortably heavy as it has ever since this nightmare first began.

As if sensing her procrastination, Ivy’s mother Yvette comes striding into her daughter’s bedroom. It’s easy to tell how much she’s enjoying playing her mother of the bride role. She hasn’t stopped smiling since Ivy’s engagement to her long-time “boyfriend” was officially announced last month. Needless to say, she’s the only one finding any joy in this situation.

“Ivy, sweetie, hurry up and come downstairs. Everyone is waiting to see you.”

“Yeah, right.” Ivy scoffs in response. “They just want to see this.” Yvette frowns at the way Ivy glares in disdain at the stunning ring adorning her finger.

“Ivy Elaine Peters, you better get it to together right now. Keeping this family business afloat requires sacrifice and its your turn now stop moping and get your narrow ass downstairs.” Her mother disappears back out the door before Ivy can get in a word of her own. Not that it would have mattered. Her fate has been sealed for the past twenty four years.

She slips her feet into the black patent leather pumps still sitting pretty in the box on her canopy bed. The red soled beauties are sure to provide more status than comfort, but such is life. Ivy gives herself one final pep talk, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles in her slip dress. She looks more like a fashionable mourner than a blushing bride but this is her silent protest. She’ll make her damn sacrifice but she’ll dig her heels in wherever she can.

Ivy quickly spots her fiancee Seokjin cracking jokes with a few of her cousins near the front door. He beams at her when he catches her eye across the room, breaking away to come greet her. Not for the first time, Ivy wonders why she couldn’t just fall in love with him to make this whole process easier. Their families have known each other longer than they’ve both been alive so they grew up as best friends. Plus, Seokjin is genuinely a great guy. He’s charismatic, kind, and attractive to the point of unfairness. She has no doubt that he’d make a fantastic husband for someone. She just wishes that she wasn’t that someone. The only positive is that Seokjin feels the exact same way. He loves Ivy to pieces in the most platonic way possible. She’s quite possibly the last person he would ever consider marrying, but business is business and this is a merger that must be made.

“You look absolutely stunning, Vee.” She smiles gratefully at his compliment as he bends slightly to kiss her on the cheek. A camera flashes somewhere off to her right so she makes sure to play her happiness up for the photographer. With the combined notoriety of their families, any pictures taken tonight are sure to be all over the local and regional news outlets by morning.

“I could say the same about you, Jinnie.” The tips of his ears turn red as they always do whenever anyone compliments him. Ivy giggles playfully when he ducks the hand reaching up to tweak on of them like she always does, choosing instead to square up like he’s ready for a fight. Oh, Jin, ever the entertainer. The numerous peals of laughter that erupt around the couple as they take turns jabbing at each other like children tells her that their antics are paying off.

The two imposters spend the night putting on one hell of a show. Anyone would be hard pressed to find someone that didn’t think they’re madly in love with one another. Their parents couldn’t be more ecstatic about this outcome if they tried. 

Everyone is seated at the lavishly decorated tables set up in the backyard as an army of waiters replaces empty entree plates with various cakes and tarts that look almost too delectable to eat. The cheesecake placed in front of Ivy looks nearly too beautiful to eat. Topped with fresh berries and drizzled in what smells like some sort of hazelnut sauce. She wishes she hadn’t left her cellphone upstairs so that she could take a quick picture of it for her instagram. When she finally gets over her reluctance, she take a small bite. A borderline pornographic moan escapes her lips, catching Jin way off guard.

“What the hell wa-” Ivy cuts him off by shoving a forkful of the cheesecake into his open mouth. He groans in pleased delight, attempting to go in with his own fork for another bite, but she quickly slaps his hand away.

“Let me taste yours. Bite for a bite.” She pretends not to notice him sneaking another bite of her cheesecake while she tastes the chocolate tart in front of him. A hint of red chili lends a kick that perfectly rounds out the sweetness of the chocolate and the fresh whipped cream the dessert is topped in.

“I don’t know what bakery they used but we need to get them to do the cake for the wedding.” Jin declares as he practically inhales the chocolate tart. He signals the waiter to bring them two more for them to try while Ivy hums in agreement at his side. She makes a mental note to ask her mother who was hired to do the desserts tomorrow as she happily digs into the coconut cream cake being set in front of her.

Yeosang stares in awe at the payment he’s just received for the engagement party they’d done three days ago. His bakery has been faring better than most businesses do in their first year but the deposit currently pending with the bank is going to go a long way in making sure it stays that way. They had even sent two grand more than the $1,800 that the contract had stipulated. Yeosang had called immediately to make sure it wasn’t an accounting error because the last thing he wants is to be accused of stealing, but he’d been informed by the woman who had arranged the deal that her employers had been so satisfied with the food they wanted to “tip” him. Rich people are different.

He leaves his small office to clean up a little while it’s slow. He had let everyone else go early since there were no big orders to work on and Tuesdays are notorious dead zones. The bell above the door tinkles lightly as he cleans some wayward chocolate curls out of one of the display cases, cursing to himself because he’d told Seonghwa that he put too many but of course no one listens to him. Doesn’t matter that he signs those lazy bastards’ pay checks every week.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The young woman before him fidgets with the tie on her wrap dress inadvertently drawing Yesoang’s gaze to the womanly curves she possesses. The emerald green of the fabric highlights the warm undertones of her skin in a way that should definitely be illegal.

“My mother’s assistant told me that you did the desserts for my engagement party last night.” Yeosang curses mentally as he finally takes notice of the skating rink sitting on her left ring finger. He misses most of what she says next but tunes back in just in time to hear her ask if he’s available to do her wedding cake as well.

“What’s the date?” He questions, all business now that more money is on the table.

“September 9th. It’s going to be at the old vineyard across town.” 

Yeosang nods in acknowledgment. He pencils her in and schedules a day in two weeks for her to come back with her fiancee to do a tasting and make final selections for the other desserts they’d like to have. Ivy is turning to leave when she catches sight of a full-sized version of the cheesecake she’d fallen in love with at the party.

“How much is that cheesecake?” 

Yeosang follows her outstretched index finger to the hazelnut berry cheesecake that he’d come up with. It had taken him ages to perfect but hasn’t really taken off like he thought it would. Nevertheless, he makes sure to put one in the display case every day and he’s glad that he did.

“It’s $6 per slice. Did you want one?”

“How much for the whole thing?” Yeosang notices that she has yet to take her eyes off of the dessert.

“I’ll do $35 for you, beautiful.” For a second, he thinks that he may have overstepped his boundaries but she simply reaches into her bra to pull out a flashy, black card. The credit limit on that thing would probably pay off the loan on his storefront and then some. 

He tries not to focus on how warm it is when she places it into his outstretched hand. He could’ve sworn that she intentionally let her fingers graze his own in a less than professional way. Yeosang shakes the thought away as that can only lead to trouble. He packs her cheesecake up while she signs the credit card receipt.

“Have a great day,” Yeosang pauses to look at the signature line of the receipt. “…Ivy.”

“Right back at you.” She winks at him playfully and sashays outside to her car. Yeosang’s eyes are trained on her until she’s seated in her seated in the black Audi he’s just now noticing was parked across the street.

Ivy calls Jin the second she steers her car back onto the road, waiting patiently for him to answer. She’s practically vibrating from the few minutes she’d spent with…fuck she’d forgotten to get his name but there is plenty of time for that. One thing she’s sure she’ll never forget is how hot he is. Ivy would’ve never guessed that she’d be attracted to someone with quite so many tattoos but on him they had looked like priceless works of art worthy of being placed in the Louvre.

“Hey, Vee, what’s up?”

“Two things. One, the bakery that did the desserts for the engagement party agreed to do the wedding.” Ivy curses at a slow driver that cuts her off at an intersection, losing her train of thought for a second.

“And the second thing?” Jin presses. 

“Oh, I’m going to fuck the owner.” A thrill shoots through as she imagines those tattooed hands roaming every inch of her skin. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat as her body reacts to her impure thoughts. 

“Absolutely love that for you. What’s his name?” Of course he asks her the one question that she doesn’t know the answer to. She rolls her eyes skyward as Jin starts talking shit when he realizes that she didn’t ask her new crush his name.

“I hate you.” She pouts as she turns onto her street. “We have a tasting scheduled for the 17th so I’ll ask him then. I’m almost home so I’ll text you later.”

“Smell ya later.” Oh what she’d give to flip him off right now. 

The smile on her face when Ivy walks inside her parents’ house is genuine despite the fact that she’s spent all day doing wedding preparations which normally leaves her in a foul mood. Her high spirits don’t go unnoticed by her mother who is in the backyard pruning her orchids.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“The bakery that did the desserts for the engagement party agreed to do the wedding too. Also,” Ivy lifts the box holding God’s favorite cheesecake in the air. “he gave me a deal on the cheesecake that we liked.”

“Are you serious? He said that he was booked up the entire week of your wedding.” Ivy is a bit taken aback as he had specifically told her that he would be available, but she shrugs it off.

“Maybe he had a cancellation. Do want some cheesecake? This is your only offer because I fully plan to eat the whole thing right now.” Her mother tosses her pruning shears back into the box she keeps them in and follows Ivy into the kitchen where they make quick work of the heavenly dessert.

“Yeosang you fucking dumbass. How are we supposed to do a wedding and an anniversary party in the same damn day? Explain it to me.” Yeosang almost flinches when Yunho yells at him. He can’t think of a time the man has ever raised his voice before now and he’s known him since they were three. Not one to accept disrespect, Yeosang would normally react with anger of his own but even he has to admit that thinking with his dick has put them all in a bind. A socialite wedding and an anniversary party with a guest list longer than his body on the same day is going to take a miracle to pull off. 

“Listen these rich people gave us two grand more than they were supposed to as a fucking tip. If they had asked me to get ass naked and let people eat pineapple rings off my dick I would’ve said yes.”

“She had big tits didn’t she?” Jongho typically stays out of their petty arguments but he knows bullshit when he hears it.

“Yes, but,” The room erupts into a cacophony of groans as they all simultaneously throw the closest object at hand Yeosang’s hand. Luckily for him he’s always been quick on his feet. “What’s done is done you fuckwads so get over it and start mixing. We still have orders to fill.”

All eight of them are covered in flour from their frantic baking when they hear the bell jingling up front. Hongjoong happens to be the only one able to immediately stop what he’s doing so he washes his hands and goes to attend to the customer. Yeosang nearly falls backwards off of his stool when he hears the voice of the woman that had put them in such a bind. Wooyoung and San exchange curious glances before they wipes their hands on the front of their aprons and head up front as well. Yeosang feels like his stomach is going to fall out of his ass as one by one they all abandon their posts. 

“Satan, why are you doing this to me?”

There’s no reason for him to stay in the back like a coward so he follows suit, wiping his hands and going to the front counter as well. They’re all squished together behind the counter trying to get as close to her as possible. Yeosang shoulders his way between Jongho and Seonghwa and he finally understands why they all look like lovestruck school boys. He finds himself looking just as dopey as his friends when she turns that megawatt smile on him. She’s dressed a lot more casually today in a pair of jeans that had to have been painted on and a plain white baby tee. The little jewel glittering in her belly button looks like its winking at him and he has the overwhelming urge to flick it with his tongue. 

“Another cheesecake?” He nods his head towards the box cradled in her hands. She looks sheepish at being caught out. Yeosang thinks it’s cute.

“In my defense, it’s tasty as hell.”

“Just make sure you tell everyone where you got it.” He winks at her playfully which was an incredibly bad idea. She sinks her teeth into her plump lower lip and he knows immediately that despite the massive rock on her finger he would still make a move on her. Time to leave before he does something stupid.

“Alright you lazy sacks of shit, back to work.” They protest just as he’d expected but he pushes them all back towards the kitchen, rolling his eyes as they try to resist him.

“Hey, wait!” Yeosang shouldn’t have turned around. He should’ve kept going as if he hadn’t even heard her, but no, he just has to have manners. She’s propped herself up against the counter that makes her breasts nearly pop out of the scoop neck line of her shirt. “What’s your name?”

“Yeosang.” She repeats it back to him, testing it out on her tongue. Her voice curls around the syllables lusciously and he could die right where he stood. At this point, he’s convinced that she’s made it her life’s mission to ruin him.

Ivy is quick to call Jin when she gets back to her car which seems to be the norm every time she goes to the bakery. She knows that he’s going to make fun of her for being so excited, but she can’t exactly tell her other friends about the hot, tattooed bakery owner that she plans to screw so she’ll suffer the consequences. At least now she actually knows his name so he can’t hold that over her head anymore.

The 17th has finally rolled around which means Ivy has another opportunity to draw Yeosang into her trap. Jin currently sits cross-legged on the bed in his guest room where Ivy had spent the previous night as she models her potential outfit for the day. The yellow slip dress has potential, but Jin isn’t totally impressed. He sends her back into the closet to try on one of her other options. She reappears in a fiery orange tank top tucked into a pair of lightly distressed white jeans.

“Your ass looks great in the jeans so that’s a definite yes, but I’m not really feeling this shirt.” Jin comments as Ivy does a slow turn in front of him. He crosses the room to his closet to help her go through the clothes she’d brought with her to see what her other options are. He eventually helps her settle on a simple black tank top that perfectly molds to the curves of a figure.

“Alright let’s go eat some cake and hopefully get your cakes smashed.” Jin remarks as he herds Ivy towards the door. 

When they arrive at the bakery, Yeosang has just finished putting out the tasting plates that he’d prepared. Jin is too focused on the fact that he gets to eat cake before lunch without anyone scolding him for it to notice the way that Yeosang’s face falls when he sees him walking in with Ivy. She doesn’t miss it though. Nevertheless, he reaches out to introduce himself.

“Yeosang. Nice to meet you.” Jin reciprocates his greeting before pulling out a chair for Ivy to sit down in. 

Things are all business from there on as Yeosang slides the first cake towards them and Ivy has never been more disappointed in her entire life. Gone is the Yeosang that called her beautiful and responded well to her flirting. She blames Jin. 

“So this first one is a spiced vanilla cake with a raspberry cream cheese frosting with a little orange zest.” Ivy is so focused on the way Yeosang’s lips are moving that Jin has to elbow her to bring her back to reality. She sheepishly accepts the fork that she hadn’t realized was being presented to her to taste the masterpiece in front of her. 

As they talk about what they like and don’t like about the cake, Yeosang hands them each a scoring cards to rank their favorites. Regardless of the way she feels about him on a personal level, Ivy has to admit that Yeosang is incredibly good at what he does. He was able to take her obsession with his cheesecake and come up with such interesting cake options. She’d been slightly concerned that he hand’t asked for her likes or dislikes in terms of taste, but as they move from cake to cake she realizes that he didn’t need to. Everything tastes amazing. It’s no surprise that each cake receives the highest score possible on their scoring cards. Deciding which one to go with is going to be hell.

“If you don’t let me have the spiced vanilla one we tried first I am calling off this engagement and marrying Yeosang instead of you.” Ivy stands corrected. Yeosang chuckles lowly at Jin’s enthusiasm and the throaty sound sends a shiver down her spine. It’s unfair just how effortlessly attractive he is.

“Okay folks, let’s talk decorations.” Yeosang reaches to his right, pulling a sketch pad from the empty chair next to him. His hand loosely grips a pencil as he waits for Ivy and Jin to throw some ideas at him. Ivy would prefer to throw herself at him instead, but someone how she manages to focus her brain on cake design.

Both Ivy and Jin agree on the fact that they want something simple, but beyond that they have clue what they want. Yeosang busts out a quick sketch of a three tier cake with fondant branches bearing dogwood flowers climbing the height of it. When he presents the rough drawing to them, Ivy immediately falls in love. Thankfully, Jin agrees because she was prepared to fight him over this. They spend a little while longer picking out other desserts for people who don’t want or can’t have cake, but all too soon Yeosang is watching the happy couple disappear from his shop. 

The six months until the wedding seem to blend together. Business has picked up significantly in the previous weeks which has been good for Yeosang in more ways than one. The extra cashflow has allowed him to get ahead on some bills while also giving everybody a bit of a raise. According to Seonghwa, who is primarily in charge of the front counter since accidentally slicing his hand open, a lot of the new customers have been big names in the community that are connected to Ivy or her family in one way or another. The woman in question often stops in for a cheesecake. She always asks to speak to Yeosang, claiming to have questions about the wedding though he gets the feeling that she really just wants to talk to him. Every day it gets harder and harder to resist her flirtatious advances. He refuses to be a casual fling for some bored rich girl no matter how much his dick begs him to. Especially one with rapidly approaching nuptials.

Yeosang has never been a very spiritual person, but when he gets the call that the anniversary party he’d scheduled Ivy’s wedding over had been cancelled due to the wife having the flu, he knows that some divine being is looking out for him. He had planned to do his best, but with only one more week left to prepare he was still very unsure of how he was going to pull off two events of that scale in one day. The husband Johnathan Tooney, current district attorney in the next county over, sounds shocked on the phone when he offers them a full refund despite the fact that his contracts states that customers are only entitled to a fifty percent refund of any money paid if the event is cancelled the week of. Most of his customers pay half upfront and the remaining half afterwards, but they had chosen to pay for everything up front. Something Yeosang had greatly appreciated as it was a $2,600 job. Ultimately, Mr. Tooney tells him not to as they intend to reschedule the party as soon as his wife is feeling better and would still like for him to provide the desserts they’d contracted for.

The guys are all equally relieved when Yeosang delivers the news of the anniversary party’s cancellation. Things are smooth sailing from there as they throw all of their focus and energy into making sure that everything will be ready for the wedding next weekend. Not surprisingly, Ivy doesn’t make an appearance in the bakery that week, but what is surprising is that Yeosang finds himself actually missing her presence. Despite his avoidance of all her flirting, he actually likes talking to Ivy whenever she comes in. She may be a bored rich girl but her mind is just as captivating as the rest of her.

On the day of the ceremony, Yeosang is uncharacteristically antsy. He’s not sure what it is but he can’t seem to sit still no matter what he does. He’s itching to get this day over with so Mingi can buy him the beer he owes him. Wooyoung scolds him for being distracted when he almost drops one of the cake tiers on his way to load it into one of the delivery vans. No one has to vocalize just how disastrous that would’ve been because they all know but missing an opportunity to call people out on their shit is just not in Wooyoung’s nature.

“Look, I know you’re feeling some type of way because your crush is marrying a pretty boy that’s not you but I’m going to need you to at least pretend that you still want to get paid for this job.” Yeosang nods in acknowledgment because while he doesn’t like being yelled at like a child even he knows that he’s got to get his shit together and quickly. 

“Notice how he didn’t deny his crush on cheesecake girl though.” San pipes up as he hops into the drivers seat of the van. Everyone snickers, switching to full on laughter when Yeosang flips them all off.

Thankfully, the reception goes off without a hitch. The wait staff helps set up the extensive dessert table to save on time and it comes out just as Yeosang had envisioned it. He snaps a few pictures for the bakery’s website before they leave venue. Ivy and Jin had extended invitations to Yeosang and his staff to stay for the reception, but they’d all politely declined. They’re on their way out of the service entrance when one of the girls on the wait staff runs out with two giant paper bags in her hands. Apparently, Ivy had included enough meals in her catering package to feed the vendors that would be in the building on her big day which coincidentally included Yeosang and his gang of merry bakers. They’re all taken aback by the thoughtfulness of the gesture as Yeosang accepts the bags from the staff member who quickly runs back inside the dining hall.

“Cheesecake girl is a fucking saint.” Mingi hardly ever garners emphatic agreement from the rest of his friend group but today is one of those rare occasions.

Business continues as normal following the wedding. Product is flying out of the display case. Catering orders are still coming in left and right. Ivy still stops in once a week for a cheesecake and to flirt with Yeosang. The guys still tease him for his crush on said married woman. Everything is normal.

Until it’s not.

Jin looks like freshly printed money when he strolls into Bad Boy Bakery for the first time since the cake tasting all those months ago. The silver band on his ring finger glitters even in the fluorescent lighting. Yeosang is finishing up his closing routine when he hears the bell and emerges from his office.

“Seokjin?” The manila folder clasped in the other man’s hands makes Yeosang nervous. The last time someone in a suit approached him with a manila folder he was being presented with a plea deal and ended up doing ten months in jail for assault and grand larceny.

“We need to talk. I’ll wait for you to finish up.” Jin takes a seat at an empty table and hums to himself as he waits for Yeosang to join him.

He doesn’t have to wait long for the young business owner to emerge from his office with his keys and a denim jacket in hand. The mischievous smile on Jin’s face makes him uneasy, but he’s no bitch. Yeosang steels his nerves and schools his facial expression into one of bland indifference. He arches an eyebrow when Jin slides the folder across the table and produces a pen from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. The folder may as well be a poisonous spider with the way Yeosang refuses to touch it. 

“Whatever you think it is, I promise it’s not that.” Yeosang stares Jin down for a few seconds, looking for anything at all that would suggest he should end this whole interaction right now. He doesn’t find it.

With a resigned sigh, Yeosang flips through the contents of an envelope. He shoots Jin a look when he realizes that he’s currently skimming over a nondisclosure agreement. It looks to be focused around Ivy and Jin’s marriage. The word arranged jumps out him a few times and his eyes nearly bug out of his head. The agreement is vague on the finer details but Yeosang is comfortable enough with what he’s read to quickly scrawl his name at the bottom of the last page. Jin signs his name as witness and neatly tucks everything back into the manila folder.

“Now that we have that out of the way.” Jin relaxes back into the chair and fiddles with his wedding band. “Ivy likes you. She’ll never admit that because she’s stubborn but she likes you and wants you fold her like a towel.”

“Wait, wait, wait, are you saying that your wife wants to have sex with me? How are you okay with this?” Yeosang has always loved forbidden fruit but ruining relationships was the old him. He doesn’t know what to do with this information. Furthermore, he can’t imagine being married to someone like Ivy and being okay with her sleeping with someone else.

“That’s where the NDA comes in.” Yeosang sits in stunned silence as Jin gives him the true behind the scenes story about he and Ivy’s marriage and it’s nothing like the best friends to lovers trope that they’ve fed to society. Well, he guesses the best friend part is true, but they’ve definitely never been anything close to lovers and never will be. They’re simply holding up their end of a decades-old business deal. According to Jin, he and Ivy have already devised a plan to be divorced in a year.

“So,” Yeosang is a bit unsure on how to proceed. This is uncharted territory. “what exactly are you saying to me?”

“Stop feeling bad about wanting to fuck Ivy and just do it. She’s driving me insane at home talking about how hot you are all the time and I can’t take it anymore. She’s out of cheesecake so she’ll be in here within the next couple of days so make your move. Discreetly.” 

Yeosang lays in bed that night still shocked at everything he’s learned today. His mind and body have been at war over what he believes to be right and what his body craves. He’d love nothing more than to worship Ivy from head to toe and before today it had been a pipe dream. Now that he’s been given the green light, he’s still conflicted. It feels too good to be true. But he plans to take full advantage of all the good that comes his way until shit decides to hit the fan.

Ivy gives herself a final once over in the mirror. Her outfit is simple. Just a black bodycon dress paired with a denim jacket and her red converse. According to Jin, she should look like she’s making an effort but not too much of one. She’s hoping that this will do the trick as she grabs for her keys and purse, stuffing her phone into the latter as she waits for the elevator to reach the ground floor. 

She wants to call Jin for some last minute encouragement on the way over, but he’s being a boring businessman today and is in the middle of a meeting. Ivy is totally on her own and she’s panicking. Hopefully, Yeosang finds her nervousness cute enough to overlook the awkwardness.

When Ivy enters the bakery, one of Yeosang’s friends is manning the counter. A gentle giant with a kind smile. She remembers that his name also starts with a Y like Yeosang’s but she can’t put her finger on exactly what it is.

“Hey, cheesecake girl!” Ivy rolls her eyes humorously at the nickname the other guys in the bakery have given her. She can’t help that the damned cheesecake tastes as good as it does. Before the wedding, she’d had to up her trips to the gym from zero to one just to make sure she’d  still be able to fit into her dress on her wedding day.

Her heart drops a little when she scans the display case but sees no sign of the dessert that her soul craves. Yunho laughs are disappointment before disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with a box, smiling at the way her eyes light up. 

“Yeosang is with the other guys on a job, but he said you’d be in today so he boxed it up before he left.” He slides the box across the glass countertop into her waiting hands. Ivy digs in her purse for her card to pay for the cheesecake, but Yunho is quick to stop her.

“This one’s on the house. Boss’ orders.” Ivy is a bit taken aback. Hand frozen in her purse. Yeosang makes sure that she always pays a discount rate for her cheesecake, but she’s never gotten one for free before. 

“Oh…okay. Well, have a good day.” 

It isn’t until she gets back to Jin’s place — well she guesses it’s her place now too — that she realizes why Yeosang had decided to pre-package her cheesecake this time. A phone number is scrawled on the inside of the lid with a quick message from Yeosang asking her to call him. She squeals as frantically scrambles to pull her phone from the recesses of her bag. Yunho had told her that Yeosang was out on a job so she texts him instead of calling so as not to disturb him. 

She is happily digging her fork into a second piece of cheesecake when Ivy randomly recalls something weird that Jin had said this morning when he left for work. She was still half asleep and barely human, but now here she sits at the dining room table replaying the strange sentence that her brain had decided to finally comprehend.

Don’t forget to call the baker.

Ivy hadn’t been in the right headspace to question it then, but now that the puzzle pieces are clicking into place, it’s becoming painfully obvious that Jin had something to do with the reason she’s anxiously checking her phone every five minutes. The part of her that wants to chase him with a butter sock is overridden by the much larger part that wants to thank him profusely for whatever it is that he did. Unlike Jin, Ivy doesn’t have a harem of men, women, and others lined up to satisfy her needs whenever he’s feeling inclined. 

She’s three episodes into a Cold Justice marathon when her phone rings, scaring the living daylights out of her. It’s Yeosang. Ivy’s eyes widen comically as she freaks out over what to do. She chugs the rum and coke she’d been nursing and picks up the call.

“Hello?” She cringes at how apprehensive she sounds even to her own ears.

“Hello, Ivy.” He sounds tired which has given his voice a gravelly edge to it that’s making her blood sing. “I saw your message and thought it would just be easier to call you.”

Ivy isn’t surprised in the slightest when Yeosang tells her about Jin’s visit to the bakery the night before. That’s a typical Jin move to jump the chain of command to accomplish a job. Yeosang doesn’t seem to bothered by the strangeness of it all. He seems more relieved that his guilt for lusting after a taken woman has been absolved if anything.

“This is a first for me so I’m not exactly sure what to do.” Yeosang trails off. He’s out of his element here. It goes without saying that there will be no romantic dinners at expensive restaurants or long walks to the beach.

“This is a first for me too, but you’re a hot baker that laughs at my stupid jokes and I like that.” His throaty laugh in response makes her chest swell with pride at 

“I still want to take you on a date though so I guess your place or mine?”

Yeosang is sweating bullets as he punches in the elevator code for the penthouse suite in the swanky high rise at the address Ivy had given him. In his Michael Jackson t-shirt, ripped jeans, and sneakers, he knows that he sticks out like a sore thumb, but thankfully no one in the lobby had vocalized that to his face. He adjusts his duffel bag on his shoulder as the elevator smoothly ascends to the top floor. He’s been ecstatic when Ivy had told him that she wanted him to come spend the weekend with her since Jin would be out of town on business. This is going to be the first time that he’s seen her in person since they agreed to their little arrangement and he’s nervous to say the least.

The doors silently reveal a posh sitting area as well a lacquered black door adorned with a silver “P”. Yeosang grins at the door mat just outside the door. It depicts a crudely drawn cat with both middle fingers upturned and the words “fuck off” written in a speech bubble. It looks just as out of place as he does and for whatever reason it makes him feel more at ease. He reaches out to press the doorbell but the door is yanked open before he even gets the chance.

“Jesus Christ you scared me!” If his hands weren’t full of groceries, Yeosang would’ve clutched at his rapidly beating heart. Ivy chuckles, pointing to a little black dot above the door.

“We have cameras.” 

She grabs for a few of the bags in his hands, but he twists and turns to block her efforts. Their childish antics continue until Yeosang has finally had enough. He crouches down until he’s able to wrap his arms around her thighs, delighting in her squeal when he successfully lifts her from the ground. Ivy swats at his shoulders, but the brute simply crosses the threshold, kicking the door shut with his foot before walking deeper into her home. This first “date” is off to a great start.

“So what’s on the agenda for today, Mr. Kang?” Ivy drums on the marble countertop enthusiastically as she watches Yeosang unpack the groceries he’d brought with him. 

“As much as I love a good paying customer, It’s time for you to learn how to make this cheesecake yourself.”

“You better hope I suck at it or I’ll put you out of business.”

“I don’t mind a little competition.” Yeosang smiles deviously. “Especially when the rivals look as pretty as you.”

Ivy feels her cheeks heat up in the face of such flirtation and she’s never been more thankful for the fact that her darker complexion hides the evidence of it. She’s come to know him well enough to know that he would definitely rib her for that.

As it turns out, Ivy is a natural born baker. Yeosang’s heart swells in his chest as he watches her sway her hips to the music she’d turned on as she stirs the berry compote on the stove. His chest bumps against her back as he steps up behind her and he swears he sees her shiver. He rests his head on her shoulder, covering his hand with hers and slows down the speed of her stirring.

“You have to be gentle with the berries, love.” At the sound of his voice so close to her ear, Ivy’s insides turn to goo. 

“Maybe I don’t want to be gentle.” Her words hit him square in the chest and he wants to respond in so many ways, but he settles for a chaste kiss on her temple. He’d briefly contemplated taking it slow with her, but they’ve been dancing around each other for nearly seven months at this point and there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable. The wanton desire is mutual on both sides but he wants to hear her beg. Wants her desperate and needy for him.

He eventually removes his hand from hers, choosing to instead hold onto her hips as he continues to coach her through the next steps. She’s so focused on keeping her berries from sticking that Yeosang is able to catch her off guard when he slips his hands inside her tank top to rest them against her bare skin. The gasp she lets out makes him smile deviously. His hands drift up from her lower stomach until his thumbs are brushing the lacy cups of her bra. It’s Yeosang’s turn to be caught off guard when she presses her ass firmly against his front. The way she subsequently swivels her hips is nearly his undoing, but Yeosang has a game plan and he intends to see it through.

“You’re a naughty girl, Ivy.” He lowers a hand to tug on the elastic waistband of the tiny shorts she’s wearing, letting it snap back in place. She hisses at the sting but, if the way her head lolls back onto his shoulder is any indication, she loved it. Yeosang slides his hand lower as if he’s going to cup her over her shorts only to completely remove himself from her.

He busies himself with other things around the kitchen but he can feel her glare on him the entire time. She grumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like the words “teasing asshole” but he choose to ignore it. For now. 

Ivy is visibly on edge as she waits for Yeosang to touch her again, but he doesn’t make a single move to do so. He simply dances around her in the kitchen as they finish up their cheesecake preparation. It has to cool once they take it out of the oven so they migrate to the living room while they wait. The episode of Bones that Ivy been watching before he’d arrived is still paused on the tv so she restarts it and settles in next to Yeosang on the couch. She lets out a girlish squeal when he hauls her into his lap instead. He spreads her legs so that they straddle both of his, letting out a content sigh as he rests his chin on her shoulder. Arms wrapped securely around her waist. 

He waits until she’s engrossed in the episode. Certain that he’s going to keep his hands to himself. If he’d been able to see her face, he would’ve been able to see the devious grin as she devised a plan of her own. Ivy shifts her legs around until both of her feet are planted on the floor between Yeosang’s. She swivels her hips in the cradle of his lap, snickering at the groan he lets out. Two can play this teasing game. She grabs both of his hands in her own and lifts them to her breasts. Yeosang just lets them linger there. This is her show now and he wants to see her directing skills firsthand. 

With her physical encouragement, he pinches her erect nipples through the thin layers of her shirt and bra. The breathy sigh in response to his touch gives him a high that he can quickly see himself becoming addicted to. She ups the ante by dislodging his hands to remove her shirt and bra. She places his hands back on her chest, sighing once more at the feel of him kneading her breasts without any hindrances. Yeosang licks and sucks at the column of her neck. He’s careful not to leave any marks which he’s sure she’ll be appreciative of later. Her needs grows and grows until she’s craving more than what he’s giving her.

“Yeosang,” The way she half moans his name sounds like the sweetest melody. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you, baby girl.” She grunts in frustration. Looks like she’ll have to take matters into her own hands once more. 

Yeosang is shocked when Ivy suddenly rises to her feet. He’s more than confused as he watches her disappear down a hallway off to the right of the living room. His breath catches in his throat when her shorts suddenly fly back into view followed closely by a pair of panties that match the bra on the floor by his right foot. He nearly falls over in his haste to catch up to her. He finds her in the bedroom that she’d pointed out as hers when she’d given him a quick tour earlier. She’s reclined amongst the mountain of pillows circling her swollen clit with her middle finger as she fondles one of her breasts. Her mouth is slightly ajar from the pleasure and he swears that he’s never seen a sight more breathtaking. Yeosang swallows, trying to get his wits about him when she speaks and breaks him out of his daze. 

“Clothes off, babe.” His limbs are a blur as he rushes to follow her instructions. With every inch of skin he reveals, Ivy finds herself falling deeper and deeper into his trap. 

She’d seen the tattoos that covered his arms and the back of his right hand, but the Hebrew script running down his side is new to her and she makes a mental note to ask him what it says later. Right now she wants nothing more than for him to hold her down with his weight and make her his. Yeosang’s eyes are practically glued to her center so shiny from her arousal. He licks his lips at the thought of how good she probably tastes and the mere idea of having her on his tongue nearly consumes him.

Yeosang tugs on his hardened cock as he slowly walks towards the oversized bed. She’s mesmerized by the appendage standing proud between his legs. It’s not over long but he can barely get his own fist around it so she knows that the stretch will be phenomenal when he finally gets inside. He grabs her by both ankles and pulls her into the center of the bed so that she’s flat on her back. She squirms in anticipation as he crawls over her. Lips and hands caressing every inch of her skin that they can reach. She moans deep in her throat when he finally covers her lips with his own in their first ever kiss. Her fingers find purchase in his hair, holding him to her as they ravage each other. Each exhale from her lips traded for his.

Ivy is brought back to the task at hand when a needy thrust of Yeosang’s hips has the engorged head of his erection pressing against her clit. She bites down on his bottom lip at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, rolling her hips up to get more of the addictive friction.

“Gotta taste you. Want you to cum in my mouth.” Yeosang’s words don’t match up with his actions as he continues to peck her lips over and over again. Eager to discover if his tongue is just as talented as his hands, Ivy pulls away to gently push at his head until he gets the message.

The first swipe of his tongue on her soaked flesh is purely self-indulgent. He’s thrilled to discover that she tastes just as sweet as he thought she would. Like the nectar of a fresh honeydew. He sucks her clit into his mouth, biting down on it gently before swirling his tongue around it to soothe the ache. Her eyes roll into the back of her head and she can’t decide if she wants to run from or towards his mouth. She doesn’t get the chance to decide as Yeosang anchors her squirming hips to the bed with one of his arms. 

He teases her entrance with a single finger, smirking at the filthy curses falling from her lips as she begs him to make her cum. He gives her clit a particularly harsh suck as he sinks his finger in deep. Her breathing starts coming in quick pants when he adds a second finger and then a third. When she starts folding in on herself, he pulls his fingers from her dripping hole. Her suddenly empty hole clenches around nothing as she complains about being denied the orgasm she was dancing on the edge of.

Her complaints die on her tongue when she takes in the sight of Yeosang walking on his knees towards her. Ivy sits up and meets him halfway. She can taste herself on his tongue as their lips meet for the second time and it has a fresh tidal wave of arousal all but gushing from her. His waning self-control is evident in the way he turns her around to face her headboard, pushing on her shoulders until she’s face down in in the sheets.

She whimpers at the heavy smack he rains down on her ass. He groans at the way it bounces before he grips both cheeks in his hands, pulling them apart to get a proper view of her waiting entrance. Part of him wants to tease her some more, but he doesn’t have it in him to wait one more minute. She nearly sobs at the satisfying stretch of him sinking into her eager flesh in one smooth thrust. He grinds his hips against her ass, relishing in the way her walls are hugging him so tightly. She clenches around him, trying to draw him back in as he eases his hips back only to roughly thrust his length back into her. He repeats that action a few more times to open her up before finally breaking loose. 

All forms of speech beyond broken curse words and his name are lost to Ivy as Yeosang demolishes her. His pace builds till it’s almost frantic. It feels like his length is vibrating within her and she can feel her orgasm approaching quickly. She tries to warn him, but he is already well aware. He slows his hips down to a gentle roll and the change in pace has her seeing stars as he can now expertly target that sensitive spot deep within her. He reaches underneath her to rub circles in her clit and she’s lost. Black dots dance around across her vision as the pleasure threatens to completely drag her under. His hips never stop moving as he fucks her through it. The erratic clenching of her inner walls soon proves to be too much for him. He pulls out of her wet heat just in time to release his seed onto her back.

Ivy collapses onto her stomach. Exhausted beyond measure. Yeosang falls next to her breathing just as hard. He’s not going to lie and pretend that he hasn’t dived into more than his fair share of pussy, but that was easily the best sex he’s ever had. He can barely breathe but that doesn’t stop him from leaning over to press his lips against hers once more. Their chests are still heaving when they separate, choosing instead to lean his forehead against hers. 

“I can’t feel my legs.” She whispers on a breathless laugh. 

“Good thing I’m the king of aftercare.” He pecks her lips once more before crossing the room to her en suite bathroom to get a warm towel to clean her up with. By the time he returns, she’s fast asleep much to his surprise. Normally, Yeosang likes to end his trysts with a massage, but she’s sleeping so peacefully. He cleans up his mess before sliding back into the bed next to her as he pulls a spare blanket over them. 

Yeosang awakens the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of coffee brewing. A shower is definitely in order before he seeks out Ms. Ivy. He walks into the kitchen a little while later to find her cooking breakfast in his t-shirt. It’s so domestic that for a moment he forgets that she’s legally spoken for until her wedding ring catches the sunlight from the picture windows.

“Morning.” He whispers into her ear. She jumps at the sound, obviously not realizing that he was awake yet. She relaxes against him when he wraps his arms around her midsection.

“Good morning, handsome. I’m almost done if you wanna grab some plates.” Yeosang preens at the compliment, kissing her cheek an obnoxious amount of times before grabbing plates and some silverware.

The sound of their forks clinking against their plates as they eat fills the pleasant silence as the two adults make faces across the table at each other like children. Yeosang can’t remember the last time he was this comfortable with a woman he was seeing. For the millionth time since he woke up this morning, he finds himself resenting the fact that she’s married. 

“I can feel you staring.” Yeosang doesn’t bother looking up see Ivy’s facial expression at being caught as he rinses the last breakfast dish to put in the drying rack. “Spit it out before I get old and feeble.”

“What does the tattoo on your side say?” He looks up at her then, searching her face. Ivy is beginning to feel that she shouldn’t have said anything the longer Yeosang remains silent. He drys his hands on a towel, walking towards Ivy where she sits sprawled across one of the cushy armchairs in the living room. He lifts her only to set her back down in his lap.

“May you rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush along the way, and from all manner of punishments that assemble to come to earth.” Yeosang absentmindedly strokes his fingers back and forth across Ivy’s bare thigh. “It’s part of a Hebrew prayer of protection that my mom made me get when she realized that her scolding was falling on deaf ears.”

Ivy can’t help but giggle as Yeosang enthusiastically re-enacts his mother’s words all those years ago. She’s seen the articles in the local magazines. They all tell the same story of a young street kid that found his calling and turned his life around, but words on a piece of paper doesn’t capture the nuance of who Kang Yeosang is. He doesn’t shy away from who he was. He embraces it with open arms. She listens intently as he tells the story that will never be found in any magazine. The story of how he successfully graduated from small-time dealing to running guns, drugs, and the occasional fine artifact when he was only twenty three.

“Would you do it differently if you had the chance?” Ivy picks at the hem of the Thriller he’d been wearing the day before as she awaits his answer. She’s admittedly shocked when he he gives an emphatic no. 

“It wasn’t exactly something I could put on my resume, but it set this part of my life into motion.” She leans her head into the crook of his neck. Lulled into comfortable security by the vibration of his vocal cords. “I learned how to run a business. Granted, it was illegal, but I baked my first cake in jail which is what ultimately led to me opening the bakery and then meeting you.” 

Time is a forgotten concept as they sit in the armchair sharing embarrassing childhood stories and fleeting kisses when they just can’t help themselves. That’s how Jin finds them. Giggling like teenagers that have finally earned closed door privileges. Yeosang freezes when he notices Jin’s still unsure how to act around him. Ivy on the other hand is excited to welcome her best friend back home. 

“Jinnie!” She hops up to give him a quick hug and peck on the cheek before returning to her perch on Yeosang’s lap. Awkwardness is radiating off of the man beneath her in near tangible waves. He visibly relaxes when Ivy buries her fingers in the hair at the back of his head to scratch at his scalp.

“I missed you too, Vee. Good to see you again, Mr. Kang.” Jin winks conspiratorially at Yeosang as he cracks open the bottle of water he’d snagged from the refrigerator. “Take good care of my wife.” He adds as a parting shot on his way down the hall to his bedroom which sends Ivy into a fit of curses. Yeosang finds himself cracking a smile at the sound of Jin’s laughter somewhere down the hall.

It’s not the most conventional situation by any means, but Yeosang feels like he can make this work. He glances down at the grumbling woman in his arms. Yeah, he can definitely make this work.

Yeosang is elbow deep in bread dough for a new recipe he’s working on when he hears his phone ringing where he’d left it on the charger in his bedroom. He’s supposed to be heading to Ivy’s later tonight and he’s hoping to have her taste test his new bread when he gets there, meaning he can have no interruptions so he lets his phone go to voicemail. His phone rings again, but this time the song it plays catches his attention. The Alina Baraz song he’d set for Ivy’s ringtone drifts down the hallway. He instantly cracks a smile at the thought of the woman on the other end of that phone call. Passing up an opportunity to hear her voice is beyond Yeosang’s capabilities so he extracts himself from the dough, making a mad dash for the ringing device.

“Hey, babe.” She sniffles in his ear and all of his sense are suddenly on high alert. In all of the months since they started dating he can’t recall her crying. Ever. She’s just too happy. His mind runs through a myriad of horrible possibilities like film cuts. “Ivy, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I need you.” Yeosang has absolutely no idea what’s going on but his heart feels like it’s being ripped in two at the sound of her crying. He pulls his phone away from his ear when it pings. He has to swallow to keep himself together when he sees that Ivy has sent him her location. 

“I’m on my way, baby. I’m coming.”

The other cars on the road look like blurs as Yeosang weaves between and around them at break neck speed. The hospital that Ivy is at is supposed to be a twenty seven minute drive according to google maps, but Yeosang is parking his mustang exactly sixteen minutes later. He’s honestly surprised that he wasn’t pulled over on the way, but his euphoric disbelief is short-lived as he dashes towards the front doors of the hospital. 

“Can I help you?” The woman manning the front looks at Yeosang with a barely concealed air of distaste. He follows her eyes to his tattooed arms on display in the short sleeved shirt he’s wearing. He’s still pretty much covered in flour from his bread making and he can tell that she doesn’t think much of him. Normally, he would make an attempt to assuage people like her and show that tattoos don’t make the man, but he doesn’t have time for that.

“I’m looking for Ivy Kim.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny whether or not we have someone here by that name.”

“Listen, lady if you-” Yeosang is on the verge of falling into the trap of the old wench’s bias when he hears his name being called. He turns his head to see Jin waving him over from where he’s holding the elevator doors open. He flips the old lady off, delighting in her scandalized gasp as he jogs towards the bay of elevators.

Now that he’s closer, Yeosang notices the cuts and bruises that litter his friend’s face. He looks like he’s been beat pretty good, but he brushes off any questions about what happened. Yeosang is on the verge of choking on his nerves as he follows Jin off of the elevator to room 437.

“I’m going to get some coffee. You guys need to talk.” Jin claps Yeosang on the shoulder once as he goes back the way they came. 

He’d risked life and limb to get here, but now he’s afraid to take one more step. He has no idea what’s going on, but he can feel it in his bones that nothing will be the same once he steps through this door. Yeosang’s phone vibrates just then with a notification from the Nike app about some stuff he left in his cart. The little nike swoosh on his phone screen feels like a divine sign for him to stop being such a pussy and go in the room. 

Seeing Ivy curled into a ball in the middle of the hospital bed is nearly his undoing. The tears steadily streaming down her face catch the light from the hallway when she turns her head to see who it is. A sob racks her figure as she reaches for him. Yeosang shuts the door, plunging the room back into darkness as he rushes to her side. He’s not used to her looking this fragile and it’s killing him. He kicks his shoes off and climbs into the bed next to her, careful not to jostle the IV needle in her arm. She leans into his touch as he brushes her hair away from her face. The fabric of his shirt is no match for the barrage of tears that Ivy dumps on it. He lets her cry until she has nothing left. For a moment he thinks that she’s fallen asleep, but she whispers something against the skin of his neck. Her voice is so low that he can’t make it out even with her lips being mere inches from his hair.

“You’ve gotta speak up for me, love.” This time when she speaks, he hears her loud and clear.

“I lost our baby.” 

He can hear her saying something about a car accident and blood, but her words don’t register in his brain. Yeosang feels like the ground has opened up beneath him, but he’s not falling. Simply hovering, drifting in the void. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant and that’s definitely something Ivy would have told him so he’s guessing that she didn’t know either. Visions of a tiny child with her doe-like eyes and his nose flash across his minds eye. Yeosang has never given much thought to being a father, but knowing that he’d created a child with Ivy only for them to be ripped away like this is tearing him apart. He holds her impossibly close, trying to anchor himself to reality. Tears are flowing down his own face as he attempts to process what they’ve lost. 

“This is all my fault.” The guilt in her voice is nearly palpable. Yeosang cups her face in his hands to force her to look him in the eye. 

“You did nothing wrong, Ivy. Get that thought out of you head right now, do you hear me?” Ivy nods her head slowly but Yeosang is not naive. No matter what he says, it’s going to take a while before she actually believes the truth in his words. 

Jin hates to interrupt them. He loathes it, but life is cruel and Ivy’s parents just texted him that they just parked their car and are on their way inside. His feet feel heavy as he treks back down the hallway. He pokes his head into the dark room and winces at the muffled sound of them crying together. 

“I’m so sorry guys, but Ivy’s parents are on their way up.” Yeosang gets the urge to laugh despite the fact that absolutely nothing is funny. This is just adding insult to injury.

Ivy clings to him like a koala when he tries to stand and he’s got half a mind to say fuck the consequences and stay. That wouldn’t be fair to Jin though. He harbors no ill will towards the man even though he’s living the life he wants so for his sake, he extricates himself from Ivy’s grasp to put his shoes on. Her bottom lip quivers dangerously as he leans down to softly kiss her forehead. Jin pulls Yeosang into a hug before he can walk past him and it takes a herculean effort for Yeosang to keep it together. His heart aches with every step he takes towards the exit stairs. It feels like someone is taking a jackhammer to his chest.

He leans his head back against the headrest when he finally reaches his car. A pained yell bursts from his throat before he can even think of trying to stop it. His horn beeps erratically as he pounds at his steering wheel in anger. Yeosang has been through hell in his twenty six years on Earth and yet, he can’t recall a time when he’s ever felt this much mental anguish and despair. Part of him wishes that he’d never stopped slinging coke and running the streets because he’d have never met Ivy and thus would’ve never experienced this. He hates that thought the second it materializes.

The shrill ringing of an old school phone that Yunho had insisted on having as his ringtone breaks through his misery. Yeosang has no desire to utter a word to anyone other than Ivy but Yunho is a persistent bastard. He’ll just keep calling until he gets an answer. He clears his throat and hopes that his childhood best friend is having an off day with those damn spidey senses of is.

“Hello?”

“Dude, have you been crying? No wonder my spirit is unsettled. The fuck is going on?” So much for eluding Yunho’s questions. Yeosang huffs out a shaky breath. He’s not even sure he’s even fully grasped what’s going on himself. He can hear the sound of keys jingling on Yunho’s end.

“Listen, I’m gonna go buy an obnoxious amount of alcohol and then I’m coming over to you place. See you in twenty.” Yunho doesn’t wait for a response, hanging up the phone with a sense of finality. 

True to his word, Yunho’s car is parked in front of his building when Yeosang makes it home. His car is empty, so he’s guessing that he must have used his key and gone inside already. He’s not surprised to find Yunho nursing a beer on his couch as he scrolls through something on his phone. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in Yeosang’s haggard appearance. He knows he looks like shit so Yunho’s reaction isn’t unexpected.

It’s nearly three in the morning when they finally crash. Yunho is passed out in the guest room but sleep evades him despite the multiple beers swirling through his system. If he was sober, he probably wouldn’t make this decision, but he’s far from it so he reaches for his phone to FaceTime Ivy. The second her face replaces his on the screen, Yeosang immediately feels like he can breathe again. He’d been avoiding the feeling before now, but after everything that’s happened in the last twenty four hours? He’s tired of beating around the bush.

“I love you, Ivy.” The smile that spreads across her tired face brings Yeosang so much joy. There’s no telling how long it’s been since she’s graced the world with one of her radiant smiles. He takes it as a victory that he was the one to bring that out of her. 

“I love you too, Yeosang.”

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

And They were Coffin-Mates

Title: And They were Coffin-Mates

Summary: “I’m a vampire.”

Out of all the things to come out of his best friend’s mouth, he hadn’t expected that. Was Virgil sure he wasn’t dreaming? Maybe this was some set-up to one of Patton’s corny puns. Something like “I’m a vampire. I like my coffee de-coffin-ated.”

Virgil pretended to hate them. He groaned or grimaced at how awful they were. But really, it was all to cover up the smile they produced.

“A vampire? Pffft,” He quirked an eyebrow, “You’re going to have to try for a better joke than that, Pat.”

Word-Count: 3.5k

Pairings: platonic moxiety (they’re best friends)

Warnings: Vampires, blood mention, memory loss, involuntary turning, hurt/comfort, puns, so many puns, crying, non-graphic violence, headache, sensory overload, panic

This is based off a prompt ask I got sent a long, long awhile ago and just finally finished!

-

Virgil trudged up to his apartment, sweat rolling down his back. Really, it was his fault for wearing a black plaid hoodie and ripped black jeans. Wearing black in the sweltering heat of the summer sun’s gaze was like inviting death upon you. But he looked good in black and was willing to suffer. Besides, Virgil was quite sure his soul was dead already.

Eventually he made it to his apartment, blessed air conditioning hitting his face at last.

“How was your day, kiddo?” His roommate and best friend Patton asked. He was in the kitchen, mixing something in a bowl.

Virgil groaned loudly, collapsing into the couch cushions.

Patton whistled, “That bad, huh?”

“I’m going to fight the sun. Either that or move to Seattle, whatever’s easiest.” 

He groaned again, shoving his head into a couch pillow. His head hurt and he was so damn thirsty. Thirsty for water, please get your mind out of the gutter. He was terrible at remembering to drink enough water, something his coworker Logan constantly berated him about. Did he work with Lo today? God, he couldn’t remember. The entire day felt like a blur.

“Aw, I’m sorry you had a rough day. Maybe I can brighten it up with some pat-cakes?”

“Pat-cakes?” 

“Like it’s like pancakes, except with my name--pat-cakes!”

Virgil groaned, this time attempting to keep himself from laughing.

“Stop trying to cheer me up, it’s illegal.”

“Oh? I guess I’m a warmhearted crook then!”

“Warmhearted?”

“Yeah, because instead of a coldhearted crook, I got a lotta love and I’m not afraid to give it.”

Virgil snorted, gazing up from his pillow. Patton stood there, grinning in his grey cat-onesie. The sight was enough to warm his cold, barely beating heart, dammit.

“Well consider yourself under arrest.”

“What for?”

“Stealing my heart.”

“Oh my goodness, you made a pun!” Patton’s blinding white grin was worth it for allowing such a cliche, cheesy pun escape his lips.

“Yeah, well, don’t count on it being a regular thing,” Virgil said, turning away in a poor attempt to hide his burning, surely reddening cheeks, “that was my allotted pun for the year.”

“Auugust I’ll have to try to get another pun out of you before the year’s over.”

“August?”

“Y’know Auuu-guust, like ‘I guess?’”

“Pat, I love you but that one was terrible.”

“Oh, tearable! Like paper?! Or tearable like tears?”

“Patton, no, that wasn’t a pun.”

The banter continued as Patton finally started to pour pancake batter onto the grill. In typical Patton fashion, he created animal shapes  and stick figures out of the pancakes, rather than keeping with normal, round ones.

It helped distract Virgil from both his headache and his rather unmemorable day. Everyone deserved a Patton in their life. Someone who brightened your day with their mere presence. Virgil set the table for their pancakes-for-dinner feast as he pondered this.

He then found their largest water container (a blender) and filled it up to the brim with water. Was he going to regret this sometime in the middle of the night? Yes. Did he care? Not really, no.

He didn’t even know why his throat felt so parched. The last couple weeks of work had been ridiculously slow. It wasn’t like he had to deal conversing with a horde of customers, thank God. He took a gulp, then another and another.

“Wow, I sea you were thirsty!” 

He lifted the blender away from his mouth to respond, before pausing. He blinked, staring at the now-empty blender. Huh.

“Um yeah. Really thirsty.” He chuckled, setting the blender beside the sink.

“Good thing you quenched it then.” Patton said, looking at Virgil weirdly.

He didn’t blame him. Virgil would too look at someone weird if they chugged a 40 ounce blender like it was nothing. He licked his lips, his mouth still feeling as dry as ever. 

A part of him wanted to grab the blender, refill and down it, desperate to douse the itching, stinging feeling that clenched his throat. But he refrained, sitting down at the kitchen table instead. It was probably possible to die from drinking too much water, right?

“Here you go!” Patton said, shaking him of his thoughts. He placed a plate of pancakes in front of Virgil. There were several blobby pancakes with two triangles pointing out at the top, what Virgil presumed to be either a cat or dog.

“Thanks Pat,” He said, “So, uh, how was your day?”

“Oh, it was Pet-tastic!” Patton perked up, “I got to pet a dog today!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I was on the subway when a person came in with the cutest--”

Virgil tried to focus on the words coming out of Patton’s mouth. He really did even as his head throbbed, headache worsening. Patton’s voice, the humming of the refrigerator, the dishwater noises, everything was suddenly too loud. He fidgeted, the fluorescent light beating down on him. He took a bite, hoping it would help. He hadn’t eaten since morning, of course he felt like shit. He just needed substance. Once he ate something, things would be okay.

Except he spat it out, coughing. Something was wrong. It couldn’t be Patton’s pancakes. He always made them to a fluffy, sweet perfection. Yet Virgil’s stomach threatened to heave up its contents at the mere taste.

“Virgil?”

He jerked his head towards Patton, wincing from the whiplash. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m never okay.” is the retort Virgil wanted to throw back. Deflecting and self-deprecation was Virgil’s main attributes. Patton would’ve gasped at him, telling him he’d physically fight him for talking bad about himself. Except those words didn’t make it out of Virgil’s throat.

“I’m--I’m sorry, I just--think I need to go--bedroom.” 

He hated it. He ruined a perfectly good dinner all because his brain decided to freak out over things that didn’t bother normal people. 

“Hey, Virge. It’s okay, I’m not upset,” Patton said softly, “we can hang out more tomorrow. Movie night, remember?”

“Y-yeah.” Virgil said, rising from his chair. Vertigo crashed into him, almost sending him to the ground if not for a pair of arms catching him.

“I’ve got you.” Patton said, adjusting his hold so that Virgil stood, heavily leaning against him.

“T-thanks.”

“Let me help you to your room, okay? Wouldn’t want you falling for me again.”

Virgil let a small, breathless snort. He wanted to protest, but his legs felt too much like jello that he didn’t trust them. Patton guided him down the hallway, to Virgil’s dark cave of a bedroom. He let out a hiss when Patton flipped the light switch.

“Opps, sorry kiddo.” Patton apologized, shutting it off. They stumbled into the room, until they reached Virgil’s bed. Patton hoisted him onto the bed, fussing with his covers until Virgil was nice and tucked in. 

“I’ll save you some pancakes.” Patton said as he closed the door. Virgil didn’t respond. He closed his eyes, the quiet darkness quelling his swelling anxiety. Fatigue finally claimed his bones and he fell unwillingly into slumber.

It wasn’t a peaceful sleep. It was one of those dreams you woke up more exhausted than rested. The thirst followed him into the dream. It gnawed at him, nearly indistinguishable from hunger. He had to satisfy it, relinquish the control it held over him. He went out to search for something to make the burning ache go away. 

He went--well, he wasn’t sure he went. Everything turned hazy, as dreams often tended to be. The next thing he knew, he was standing over someone. No, not a person, they were just a pulse of red to him. They had it, the thing he needed and they weren’t giving it willingly. Something tackled him to the ground, pinning him to the ground as he flailed, desperate to escape its’ grip--

He shot up, gasping. Panic pumped through his veins. This wasn’t his bedroom, where was he? He frantically scanned the dark murky surroundings, relaxing slightly when he recognized it as his apartment living room. Still, what was he doing here and not his bedroom?

“You’re awake.”

Virgil jumped, vaguely making out Patton in the armchair beside the couch. He wasn’t in his cat onesie anymore. Oddly enough, he seemed dressed not in pajamas but in a polo shirt and blue jeans.

“Y-yeah, finally. I had a really weird nightmare.” Virgil said, surprised to find the action of speaking no longer painful. In fact, his throat felt fine even. Maybe the blender water’s effect was delayed.

Patton sighed, moving to sit on the couch next to Virgil. He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he clasped his hands together, fingers twisting in a fretful manner. It alarmed Virgil. Patton was always babbling about something, jumping from one topic to the next seamlessly. Virgil didn’t know how he never ran out of things to say.

“Virgil, there’s something you should know,” He hesitated, “I was planning on telling you eventually. I just didn’t think…”

“What is it?” Virgil asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“I’m a vampire.”

Virgil gaped at him. Out of all the things to come out of Patton’s mouth, he hadn’t expected that.  Was Virgil sure he wasn’t dreaming? Maybe this was some set-up to one of Patton’s corny puns. A way to placate Virgil. Something like “I’m a vampire. I like my coffee de-coffin-ated.” Virgil pretended to hate them. He groaned or grimaced at how awful they were. But really, it was all to cover up the smile they produced. 

Virgil laughed, except it came out wrong. All high-pitched and strained.

“A vampire? Pffft,” He quirked an eyebrow, “You’re going to have to try for a better joke than that, Pat.”

“I’m not joking. Promise.” Patton insisted, grasping Virgil’s hands with his own.

Virgil swallowed, staring down at Patton’s pale hands. Come to think of it, Patton always shied away from doing outdoor activities, especially in the blazing hot summer heat.

“I’m Irish! I burn easily.” Patton once said, laughing.

Patton wasn’t laughing now. He looked abnormally serious, his lips pressed together in a neutral line. It was starting to freak Virgil out even more, to be honest.

“Vampires aren’t real, they’re just fictional,” Virgil said, as if he didn’t spend his time watching conspiracy theory videos at 4AM and wholeheartedly believing them on a daily basis.

Besides, Patton was too sweet, too kind and bubbly to be a vampire. They were gruesome creatures of the night, they feed on blood and had little room for morals. Unless, Virgil’s breathed hitched, unless Patton had been faking everything, what if their entire friendship was just a whole facade in order for him to get close enough to suck his blood?!

“Virgil, breathe,” Patton said, squeezing his hands.

He squeezed back, inhaling a deep shuddering breath.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to apologize for, remember?” Patton said, referring to a past conversation they had regarding Virgil’s anxiety.

“Patton, I just…” Virgil bit his lips, instantly regretting it. He must’ve bit down harder than usual because it hurt, “having a hard time not thinking this is a dream.”

“I can show you,” Patton said, “Is it okay if I turn on the lamp light?”

Virgil nodded and with his consent, Patton reached over to the end table and turned the lamp on. A soft glow flooded the room. Virgil closed his eyes regardless, black dots overwhelming his vision. 

“You okay?”

“Just gimme a moment.” Virgil gritted his teeth, wincing again when the action hurt him. What the hell was wrong with him?

“I’ll only keep it on for as long as necessary,” Patton reassured.

“Alright,” He nodded, fighting to keep his eyes open. It burned like someone had been chopping garlic, but that was ridiculous, right?

Patton drew a breath in, opening his mouth wide. Virgil watched in horror as two sharp incisors intruded from his gumline. Even if Patton wasn’t one for cruel, practical pranks, there was no way it was a pair of cheap plastic fangs. They looked too real, too grotesque to be fake.

“What the fuck!” Virgil fell off the couch, tripping in his haste to flee. He plunged to the floor, his head banging against the corner of the coffee-table.

A dull pain blossomed around the crown of his head but he stood up anyways. He had to get away, flee from this twisted nightmare he found himself in. This couldn’t be real. Perhaps he thought he woke up only to be thrust into an even worst nightmare than before.

“Virgil, Virgil, please calm down!” Patton appeared at his side within a blink, placing his hands on Virgil’s shoulders. 

He tried jerking out of Patton’s grip, glancing wildly for some sort of escape. Belatedly he realized though the lamp light had been turned off, he could still perfectly see his surroundings. What the hell? He looked back at Patton, taking in the worried wrinkles and his normal set of teeth. No fangs. Where were they? He knew he saw them, he couldn’t have imagined them--

“P-please dont hurt me,” He whimpered, digging his head into Patton’s chest. He didn’t know why he did that. He should kept thrashing, escaping the grip of a supposed vampire. But Patton was also his friend, who cheered him up with stupid cheesy puns. The one and only person Virgil trusted and sought comfort from.

Patton drew his arms around Virgil, pulling him closer. He froze, waiting for sharp fangs to pierce his neck. Instead a hand carded through his hair, soft and gentle.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Patton said, his voice tight with emotion, “I’m going to hurt those that did however.”

Virgil craned his neck to look up at him, “W-what do you mean?”

Patton didn’t say anything at first, continuing to caress Virgil’s hair.

“Virgil, how was your day?”

“What?”

“Your day, before you--” Patton hesitated, “before you fell asleep, what happened?”

“I overslept my alarm,” Virgil recalled, “I was in a rush to get to work, and I....”

He bit his lips, a soft curse slipping out from both the pain it produced and the fact he couldn’t remember. He must’ve went to work, right? Work has been so slow and tedious that he just forgot what happened. He must’ve said some of that out loud because Patton slowly shook his head.

“Virgil, I contacted your workplace. You never showed up to work.”

“Wha-but I wouldn’t--I mean--” Virgil jolted, making direct eye contact with Patton, “I’m a vampire now, aren’t I?”

 He couldn’t believe he said that out loud just now. It was absurd, it didn’t make any sense! But...it did make sense in a maddening, down-the-rabbit-hole way. His unquenchable thirst, his unusually sensitive eyes, food tasting weird, that absurd, horrific nightmare that was starting to feel more and more like it wasn’t a nightmare. Had he really almost killed a person to drink their blood? He felt lightheaded, his world spinning wildly out of control as he clung to Patton for balance.

“I got you kiddo,” Patton whispered, leading him to sit on the couch, “do you need a glass of water?”

He was deflecting, maybe in a poor attempt to spare Virgil from the cold, harsh reality.

“Patton,” Virgil hissed, “I need to know.”

Patton averted his gaze, his hands curled into fists by his side.

“Yes.”

Virgil’s heart stopped beating. Wait a minute, didn’t vampires’ hearts already didn’t beat because they were undead? Did that mean Virgil was technically dead?!

He frantically checked his own pulse, relieved yet spooked hear it. Albeit, much more slow and lethargic than before.

“Our heart beats at a slower rate than humans,” Patton laughs weakly, “A lot of the myths around vampires don’t have any truth to them.”

“Pat,” Virgil’s voice trembled, “This is crazy, I mean--you’re a vampire and I’m one?! Did you--”

“No!” Patton insisted, his eyes flashing a brief red, “Virgil I promise you, I’d never do that. It can be really, really painful--the whole turning process. It can be so traumatic that well, I--I don’t even fully remember my own. Many don’t survive let alone live pass it. I’ve never wanted you to know what it’s like to--”

Patton cut himself off, jerking his head away. Virgil took hold of his hand, squeezing it gently.

“Know what?” He pressed. Patton’s lips quivered, tears glistening in his eyes, as he cupped Virgil’s cheek with his free hand. Virgil leaned down, gently touching his forehead with Patton’s.

“Pat, please.”

“You deserved a normal human life,” Patton said at last, a strangled noise escaping him, “Where you got to live and grow old and die. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to be a monster like me.”

Patton broke away, clasping a hand to his mouth as the tears finally fell down his face. Virgil watched, his head throbbing as conflicting emotions raged war inside. Denial, rage, sadness--he pushed them all aside. Patton. He needed to focus on Patton. 

Despite everything, he still knew one thing; Patton Patterson was the furthest thing from a monster. Virgil refused to believe anything otherwise. He needed that one thing to remain true or else he’d fall apart completely.

“Patton you’re not a monster, you’re--you’re,” Virgil took a breath, steadying himself, “you’re my best friend.”

Patton let out a bark of laughter, “If--if you knew the things I’ve done, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“Yes, I--I would,” Virgil swallowed, kneeling down beside him, “Pat, you are the kindest person I've ever met. You cry at cheesy Hallmark movies that end in happy endings. You volunteer at the local animal shelter and soup kitchen. You believe the best in people, even if they’re a shitty anxious nobody who doesn’t deserve it--”

“Virgil--” Patton choked.

“And--and unless that was all one elaborate ruse to fool the world, to fool me,” Virgil pressed on, “vampire or not, your presence makes my day bat-ter.”

“Bat-ter? L-like bat?”

“Yeah, well, congratulations you managed to get a pun outta me before the year’s end.”

Patton stared at him, mouth hanging open. He then laughed again, this time surging forward to tackle Virgil in a hug. Virgil yelped, falling to the floor hard enough to see black dots. Still, he clung to Patton as if afraid of never getting the opportunity again. Virgil let out a high-pitched keen, no longer being able to contain his anguish. Patton responded with a despairing wail of his own. 

Tears poured down both of their faces as their sobbing duet continued. For a long, long while it was the only noise produced from either of them. Until it tapered off into weak whimpers and then it was just the sound of two slow, steady sets of heartbeats close together.

“Pat?” Virgil croaked, utterly exhausted from the ordeal. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, safe and secure in Patton’s arms. A small part of him yearned to wake up in his bed and learn that all of this was a nightmare and nothing more. Yet the pain from unconsciously biting his lip with his newly sharpened incisors said otherwise.

“Yes?” Patton answered, his hand brushing through Virgil’s hair once more. He was so soft and gentle that it was hard for Virgil to ever imagine him the same species as Count Dracula.

“If--if you didn’t, um, turn me, then wh-who-how--why don’t I remember--why would--” Virgil let out a frustrated huff.

“Virgil, I...I don’t know who did it or why. There’s lots of reasons why another vampire would do it,” Patton said, dropping to a low growl, “and none of them are good ones.”

“Oh,” Virgil swallowed, “and that person? I went after a person, didn’t I? That was real, right? Did--did I hurt them? I swear I didn’t mean to, I--I--”

“Virge, deep breathes,” Patton said, “They’re okay, you didn’t hurt them. They were fanged out but okay. And then I brought you back here and gave you some of my blood supply.”

“I--I don’t remember that.” Virgil said, “I remember attacking them and something...stopped me? That was you right? But I don’t--I don’t remember--”

Virgil’s voice trailed off, the words once more getting tangled up in his throat. He was afraid. Virgil was always afraid but this was new. Vampires were real and he was one of them. He was an immortal, bloodsucking creature of the night. As much as it sounded cool on paper, it was utterly terrifying. Especially to know he had no memory of becoming one. 

As if sensing his distressed thoughts, Patton brushed his bangs aside to kiss his forehead.

“Shh, it’s common for young vampires to black out from blood rage. It’s--well, it’s not okay what happened to you, Virgil. I’m so sorry, I should’ve been there to stop it from happening. But I swear to you it’s going to be okay and that I’m here now to help.”

“Promise?” Virgil asked, yawning.

“Of course. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a stake in my heart.”

And while Patton’s words didn’t immediately quell his fears, he fell asleep knowing Patton would be there for him, like he always was.

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 26 - Temper

Varian grumbled under his breath as he fiddled with a bunch of wires. He was sitting in his lab at school, trying to get the portal to turn on. The machine had decided not to work at all since his misadventure in the desert.

"Grrr...ow!"

His irritated growl turned to a yelp of pain as he shocked himself. This only drew more curses and angry groans.

He wasn't having a good day.

Heck he wasn't even having a good week. Everything had seemed to go wrong for him ever since he and Hiro had their run in with Momasake on Saturday.

First off, he had just gotten back from his second therapy session this morning and, while it went smoother than the first one had, it still had put him out of sorts for the rest of the day.

Dr. Brown's more reserved and quiet manner suited Varian much better than Dr. Mcguire's cherry earnesty, and he made sure not to delve too much into his past like he had last time. However it still made him feel self conscious to sit on a couch and talk to some stranger about what's bothering him.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being analyzed. Much like the way he would dissect a compound to figure out its chemical makeup, so too did the older gentleman study him; peering over his reading glasses, jotting notes down on his yellow notepad, and every so often, stroking his salt and pepper beard in thought.

They talked mostly about the nightmares Varian had been having and ways to mitigate them; habits he could try to form, like going to bed at a regular time everyday or meditation exercises similar to the ones Andrew and the rest of the Saporians would partake in. Varian wasn't sure how much he'd be able to keep up such practices and he kind of doubted that they would help anyways.

And then there was the discussion on medication, which Varian really wasn't thrilled about. Dr. Brown wanted to put him on a small dosage of some sort of 'mood-stabilizing' medicine as he had called it; which only sent alarm bells off in Varian's brain. The doctor was patient enough to walk Varian through what the drug was made of, how it worked, and to reassure him that it was only temporary.

"As a scientist yourself, you must know the importance of experimentation. You won't know if the medicine will help or not until you've tried it for awhile. That is why I'm starting you off on such a low dosage to test it out first." Dr. Brown encouraged.

Varian understood. He understood far better than either the doctor or anyone else would ever know. The brain ran on chemicals, and chemical potions could very much alter behavior and mood if ingested. The right or wrong chemicals could make ones whole personality change or compel them to do things they didn't want to…. Like tell the truth for instance. Yes, he knew that better than anyone, and it was precisely why he was so uncomfortable with idea.

But still, Varian had reluctantly agreed to give it a try anyways. If nothing else than to avoid a long drawn out argument or a lecture from someone. Though doing so had only increased his anxiety.

The second thing that had upped his discomfort was that Aunt Cass had discovered his firework display yesterday.

Instead of being impressed like he had hoped, she had rounded on him for daring to build what she referred to as a "fire safety hazard." She then called Officer Cruz to come and confiscate his stash of firecrackers and gunpowder.

Apparently one wasn't legally allowed to build explosives in one's home, even if you didn't intend any harm with them. He then had to endure two separate lectures from both of them on safety regulations.

Oh, how he hated lectures.

He just about had his fill of them these past three weeks.

He also just about had his fill of Hiro and his 'holier than thou' act. The other boy hadn't brought up the incident with Momosake's knife again, but Varian could sense tension between them anyways.

Varian didn't know if Hiro suspected the truth of what happened inside the vent or not, but the other boy had kept his distance from Varian for the past couple of days anyways. Keeping their conversations short and going quiet whenever he spotted Varian walk into the room.

Despite this, Varian didn't regret his actions at all from that night. He was only protecting his friends after all and it's not like he harmed anyone else other than their attacker.

He couldn't wrap his head around Hiro's concern for a person who actively threatened both him and people he cared about. Being noble and compassionate was one thing; going out of your way to help someone who only wants to hurt you was another.

But that's what made the two of them different, Varian guessed. It was easy being a hero when you've never had to defend yourself from seamingly the entire world; to fight just to survive.

Ever since his arrest and subsequently moving in with the Hamadas, Varian had only been reminded just how much he didn't belong there; of how much he didn't really fit in. As nice as his friends and Aunt Cass were, they really had no understanding of what he'd been through and he still felt alien to this world and to their beliefs. The run in with Momosake only served to heighten his feeling of inadequacy, as if he somehow fell short of the imaginary standards that everyone else seemingly already knew but he somehow didn't.

He kicked the device in aggravation. No, he wasn't having a good time at all and the sooner he could get back to his father then the better.

He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair as he tried to calm his runaway thoughts. Then he turned back to the console and readied to turn the portal back on, having finished his tweeks to the wiring.

He saw the giant metal ring spark to life as the turbines hummed with power, slowly the blue energy that indicate that the portal was working made its way towards the center, then it crackled, fizzled, and died out as the portal shut itself down.

Varian growled in anger and went to double check the wires again. Nothing off there. He checked the computer. Also okay there.  He even tripled checked the turbine, before trying again.

Nothing.

Varian had had it.

He gave a wordless scream of frustration before knocking his scientific instruments off his desk with a push. He kicked the portal repeatedly and threw anything he could find towards the devious device; yelling curses and venting his rage in angry grunts.

It was petulant perhaps, but Varian didn't care anymore. He was tired. Tired of failing and tired of not being the golden boy like Hiro was. Hiro never got lectures. Hiro never made stuff explode, or flood the whole school, or get trapped in a desert. Hiro never gave in to his darker side. Heck, Varian wasn't even sure he had a darker side.

If the stories were to be believe than Tadashi had been Mr. Perfect and Hiro had followed in his footsteps of being the selfless brave hero. They all had. They were all just so, good and perfect and wonderful, and he..he was broken and he knew it. And the longer he stayed, the more at risk he was of having everyone find out just how broken he truly was.

His angry yells turned to sobs. He didn't know to do with himself anymore. He turned around looking for more things to throw and was greeted by the sight of Honey Lemon and Fred standing in the doorway.

He stopped what he was doing and stood stock still. His face turned beet red and his breath hitched. They were looking on with both shock and alarm and to Varian's horror he realized that had saw everything.

He couldn't stop from bursting into fresh tears as he knew that his friends had gotten yet another look at the cracks in his happy, innocent facade. He crumpled in on himself, plumping down on the ground and hugging his knees to his chest, and then he buried his face in his arms to hide his shame.

"What should we do? Should we get Baymax?" He heard Fred say in a hushed and hurried whispered.

"No, he's with Hiro at his internship, remember?" Honey Lemon whispered back.

"Oh, should we call Gogo then or Wasabi?" Fred suggested instead.

"Umm..I think they're both in class...we're just going to have to help instead." Came Honey Lemon's nervous reply.

"Okay…......how?"

Honey Lemon didn't seem to have an answer for that question and Varian only hugged himself tighter as he feared what their response might be; another lecture, more prying questions into his past, or would they just leave altogether and refuse to have anything to do with him? This last option really scared him and brought more unbidden sobs.

He heard footsteps come closer and felt a gentle hand tentivently touch his shoulder.

"V..Varian?" He heard Honey Lemon ask. She sounded scared. He'd had scared her! Of course he had. Everyone was afraid of him back in Corona. Why should here be any different? He wasn't a hero like his friends, he was the villain and, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, it was what he'd always be.

"Why are you still here?" He sobbed, still not looking up to face them.

"I..I'm sorry. Do, do want us to leave?"

He heard Honey Lemon stammer out this apology and he finally looked up at her in surprise. He searched her eyes in confusion as she continued to apologetically ramble.

"We can go… if you want.. If you think that's best..or..we can stay too. It's up to you..we just want to help.."

Varian cut her off, "No, no, that's not what I meant. I...I just don't why you'd want to stick around...not after...not after.."

He broken down in tears again and he saw Honey Lemon and Fred exchange worried glances.

"We're just worried about you, dude." Fred explained. Honey Lemon nodded in agreement and offered an encouraging smile.

Varian eyed them both warily. "You don't have to be so nice about it. You just saw me wrecking my own lab. I don't want you to feel like your obligated to still hang around just to try and make me feel better."

"Well..if either of us was upset you'd try and help us right? That's just what friends do." Honey Lemon said.

"Oh but, that... that's different. You don't ever get mad."

Honey Lemon pouted, "I...get mad. I just... don't always know how to show it."

She sighed and slumped down next to him, leaning against the wall. "I guess that's not always healthy though."

"Neither is losing you temper and busting up the place." Varian bitterly added. He surveyed the mess around the room. He'd have a lot to clean up once this was over with.

"Weeelll, throwing things isn't...good," she agreed,"but it's okay to be angry if something is bothering you." She reached out and slipped her arms around the crook of his elbow. She then nuzzled her head upon his shoulder while she hugged his arm. "We just need to help you find a better way to express yourself." She cheerfully added, as if this was the easiest and most obvious thing in the world to do.

"Whenever I get in a bad mood, I just give Mole a prank call and that usually makes me feel better." Fred offered up blithely.

Both Honey Lemon and Varian stared at him disquitedly.

"That's..that's also not the best way to handle things." She said frowning.

"Why would you prank call a mole?" Varian asked in confusion. "I mean how would it even have a phone?"

"Not a mole, the Mole." Fred explained exasperatedly. "Richardson Mole; he's my arch nemesis. My greatest rival! The most sneaky and nefarious foe I've ever faced."

"He's the boy who lives next door. They compete over comic book stuff." Honey Lemon clarified to a now even more confused Varian.

"Try 'compete over everything'!" Fred retorted indignantly. "There's no lows to which he wouldn't sink just to show me up." He huffed and plopped down on the floor on front of them.

"Ooookay…..well that wouldn't really work for me," Varian tried to steer the conversation back to solving the current problem, "So, what do you do Honey Lemon? How do you stay so calm all the time?"

"I..don't know if 'staying calm' is the right words for what I do….buuuut, I do love going to a wrestling match now and then; it helps to release tension."

Varian looked at her in surprise. "You wrestle?" On some level he knew that Honey Lemon was a capable fighter, she was a superhero, a modern knight, after all, but it was hard to reconcile the image of the sweet natured girl throwing herself into a tournament ring to slug it out with someone.

"Oh.. Not me, no." Honey Lemon hastily corrected and gave an awkward laugh. "I mean, I wouldn't mind doing it but I'm not a professional, sooo...I just meant I go to watch. It's great fun. No one actually gets hurt and you can be as loud as you want to be." She tugged at a strand of her hair and keep nervously looking back and forth between him and the ground as if admitting some embarrassing truth. "I just like the atmosphere, and it fun to just scream your frustrations out sometimes."

Varian softly laughed, "It's hard picturing you yelling, ever, but it sounds fun. Like those brawl tournaments we have back in Corona. There's a lot of shouting and cheering going on during those too."

She perked up at that."Yeah, exactly like that! Would you wanna come to one? We could all get tickets to the next match!"

"Hey now, waaait a minute." Fred interrupted. "I thought we agreed to boycott the mecha-westling after Mole bought out the league! Please don't tell me you've still been going without me!"

Honey Lemon didn't answer, she just nervously bit her lip as Fred placed his hands on his hips and glared at her in disapproval. He then soon relented and sighed…"Fine, I'll buy us some tickets, but I'm getting us seats to a different league. There's no way I'm giving more money to Mole."

Honey Lemon's face broke out into a huge grin. Happy to have avoided an argument with her friend and even happier to attend her favorite sporting event.

"Well, before I can go anywhere, I need to clean up this mess." Varian sighed. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, I needed it."

He stood up and started to pick up the broken metal and discarded instruments.

"Oh, we'll help you." Honey Lemon chirped.

"No, you don't have to..it's my mess, I need to be the one to clean it up."

"Yeaah, but if we help it'll go faster and then we can all go get lunch." Fred piped in. "That's why we came by in the first place. It's nearly after one and you haven't left your lab all day. Also you still haven't told us what's bugging you. You've not really been yourself lately."

Varian rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "The portal stopped working. I'm not making any headway and it's been two months now. I guess I'm just worried."

"About your dad?" Honey Lemon interjected.

Varian nodded."Yeah, that and other things. So far I've only managed to create a working spacial portal, not a interdimensional one, and even then I can't figure out how to control where it opens up at."

"Then why not focus on that first?" Fred suggested. Varian looked at him in surprise, so he explained further. "Why not master the spacial stuff, get it where you can pinpoint global places, and then work your way up from there? It's like learning martial arts; you start small before learning more complex moves."  

"It's nothing like martial arts." Varian insisted, "but, that may not be a bad idea." He relented as he ran the possibilities through his mind; mastering more local coordinates could help in figuring out how to reach his own world.

Honey Lemon also stood up and wrapped him in another hug. "You'll figure it out it!I know you will!" She encouraged.

Fred also joined in on the hug before adding, "Yeah, but before then let's get this place cleaned up and go grab a noodle burger. I’m starving."

[glorious-blackout]

Junior Doctor Shenanigans - Preparing for the Second Wave:

I’m now three-quarters of the way through my Geriatrics block, which has ended up being far more interesting than I expected it would be and is fairly chilled all things considered, with the exception of the odd 81-hour week (which is probably bordering on illegal but I doubt our rota administrator cares). One of the main highlights is the interesting cast of characters among our patients. Elderly people are more prone to delirium when they’re unwell and many of our patients already have dementia, which is how you wind up having insults like ‘Bampot!’ screamed at you when you’re wandering along a corridor, or arriving to work to find out that one of the patients tried to set fire to their table overnight. 

One particularly adorable 91-year-old lady was extremely resistant to our attempts to gain IV access despite needing antibiotics through a drip; managing to push us away with a surprising degree of strength while insisting she was currently on an airplane and that we would have to try again later. During one of my turns, she managed to grab my wrist and attempted to break it, though thankfully she wasn’t that strong 😅

There are clear guidelines in place for who the nurses should page in any given situation. FY1s should be paged about non-urgent tasks or unwell patients who are clinically stable, FY2s like myself should be paged if someone is more unwell and needs a senior review, and registrars (the most senior you can be before becoming a consultant) should be paged for very unstable patients who may be approaching a peri-arrest situation. The problem is that nurses don’t like paging seniors, so the poor FY1s get pestered constantly during on-call shifts when they’re already swamped, often about things which are completely out-of-their-depth. On my nights I tried to reduce the risk of this by telling every nurse I could find that if someone was really unwell they should page *me* instead of bothering my FY1, but sure enough my pager remained silent while my poor FY1 had to call me on multiple occasions to pass on the message that someone was really unwell on the other side of the hospital.

Quite a few of us on Geriatrics have moved up from the same district hospital, which has certainly helped ease the terror of settling in to an entirely new environment. I particularly enjoy when there’s a few of us on the same on-call shift and we all meet up for lunch to reminisce about how rogue our old hospital was, while doctors who have only known life in city-hospitals listen on in horror. 

Despite knowing that a second wave of Covid-19 cases was inevitable, I don’t think anything has prepared us for how quickly things would escalate. Two weeks ago there were only rumours of scattered cases around the hospital and it seemed to be fairly well-contained, but now there are wards which are riddled with positive cases and staff are dropping like flies, either due to testing positive themselves or because of sick-contacts. It doesn’t help that my current hospital is nowhere near as good at updating staff on the situation as my old one was - I learned about an outbreak on one of the wards from my mum sharing a newspaper article on Whatsapp long before the hospital decided to email us about it.

On Day Six of a seven-day week, me and my equally exhausted FY1 learned three hours into the shift that two of our juniors had tested positive and that our weekend on-call team (which is fairly sparse to begin with) had to lose two members - including our senior - due to contact-tracing. Thankfully the consultant who was on with us was incredible, managing to organise last-minute weekend cover from equally incredible volunteers while leading a very busy ward-round. However, while waiting for senior cover to arrive, *I* ended up being the unfortunate carrier of the registrar’s page, which felt a little like holding a ticking time-bomb in my pocket. Thankfully it only went off once and I was standing next to the consultant at the time, so my duties were limited to taking a message before passing the phone over with a panicked ‘Help!’ written across my face. 

One patient at the end of that horrid week thoroughly broke my heart to the point where I needed to have a good cry when I got home. She was a 99-year-old lady who was very unwell with a chest infection, and to make matters worse her blood results suggested she’d had a recent heart attack which had been missed (likely due to lack of symptoms). The main indicator of this was her troponin level - a cardiac protein which is released into the bloodstream when the heart muscle is damaged. In our particular labs, levels above 30 are usually a bad sign; this lady’s level was 190,000. It became clear very quickly that she was going to die and that keeping her comfortable was the best option, and because one relative is allowed to visit in these cases, we were able to arrange for her daughter to come and see her. The issue was that her daughter lived 500 miles away and would have to drive up, so needless to say we spent the day on tenterhooks hoping that we wouldn’t have to call her en-route to tell her that she was too late. Thankfully her mum was a remarkable trooper. She remained fairly settled and bright all day, and the look of sheer happiness on her face when her daughter finally walked into the room was so heartbreaking I’m surprised we all managed to resist the temptation to burst into tears.

Most of the patients/staff members I know of who’ve tested positive for Covid-19 either had no symptoms or symptoms you wouldn’t necessarily associate with the Big Three (fever, cough, loss of taste/smell). The main culprits I’ve come across have been headaches, fatigue, gastrointestinal symptoms, delirium, or falls, whereas some patients who develop sudden respiratory symptoms that fit Covid-19 to a tee end up testing negative on the swabs. Which is mildly concerning considering how prone I am to tension headaches and just feeling generally knackered...

Part of me still wonders if I already had Covid during the first wave and lucked out by being asymptomatic, but there definitely seems to be more resignation among medical staff this time around that getting it is inevitable. It’s spreading too quickly and the governmental measures to prevent it seem so flimsy this time around that we’ve just accepted that one day *we’ll* end up being the ones making our rota administrator’s job a nightmare by phoning in sick with a cough. 

I feel I should end on a hopeful note, as one thing that’s become clear is that we’re so much better at dealing with the virus this time around. The hospital put restrictions in place earlier, we’re testing patients (and staff) far more frequently, and we actually have evidence supporting our treatments, whereas before our approach to management was mostly guesswork. One consultant explained that he’d seen a Covid-19 positive patient recently who was very unwell and breathless on admission and would most likely have deteriorated quickly had he presented in March, but showed improvement within a day thanks to Dexamethasone. The thought of a second wave hitting our hospitals sucks and we’re all as sick of this virus as everyone else, but we’re far less terrified of it this time around 😊

That said, if the second wave stops me from being able to rotate to Neonates in December then I swear I’m going to fight the virus with my bare hands... 

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner One Shot: Arrows, Gods and Dogs

Intro: Thor is intrigued about these little things called Urban Legends, but after a night spent with the rest of the Avengers discussing them, one of them in particular becomes a little too real…

Pairings. Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language.A bit of very light smut, if you squint hard enough…no under 18s.

A/N: This takes place in the SSB universe in early 2015 just before the events of AOU. You don’t have to have read that series to understand or enjoy this but feel free to check it out: Stark Spangle Banner Masterlist

This is written for @waiting4inspiration ‘s Myths and Legends Writing Challenge.

My prompt was no.6- The Licked Hand- urban legend of a killer who spends the night under a girl’s bed pretending to be her dog.

“What the fuck…” Tony mumbled as he walked into the common room, glancing around. 3 faces peered back at him, one of which was dark green, from the chairs and sofas that surrounded the coffee table.

“Hey Tone…” his sister grinned up at him. “Nat and I were giving Thor a Seaweed Mask…”

Tony looked at the God who was sat in the chair, the dark green slop slapped all over his face. “It is stupendously beneficial Stark.” he said, grinning at him, his teeth sparkled white against the dark colour of the mask on his face “Anti-inflammatory, moisturises, increases skin metabolism and is anti-aging.” “Well considering you’re over a thousand years old that could be useful…” he said, and as he spoke Steve walked into the room “Oh, and speaking of old, you got any left for Spangles?”

“You ever gonna get tired of that joke?” Steve said, not even looking at Tony or Thor as he passed.

Tony shook his head “No.”

With a sigh Steve dropped onto the floor in between Katie’s legs, his back resting against the sofa. 

“Hey…” she said softly, her hands reaching to his shoulders, as her lips softly kissed his cheek. He let out a soft noise of acknowledgement as his eyes closed and he simply let her hands work out some of the tension he was feeling, her fingers expertly dancing across his muscles. “You’re really knotty.” she mused.

He cracked his head side to side, still not opening his eyes “Feels good…” he said softly and she smiled, looking up as Clint walked into the room.

“You giving out massages to anyone Nova?” he looked over as he dropped onto the sofa, swinging his legs over the arm. “Because my back is killing me.” “Book an appointment with a chiropractor then.” she said, her hands still working at Steve’s shoulders. He was blissed out, she could tell from his body language now. His head was hanging forward slightly and his breathing was even. 

“C’mon don’t be mean!” Clint pouted.

“Sorry, only Stevie gets my hands all over him.” she winked back. Steve let out a soft huff of a laugh as Tony groaned from across the room where he was stood behind the bar placing several types of snacks into bowls.

The elevator opened again and Bruce stepped out, completing the Friday Night Film Club assembly, something the Avengers did weekly providing their search for the sceptre permitted. Bruce headed over to the seating and stopped as he saw Natasha now wiping the mask from Thor’s face with cotton pads.

“Ok so this is weird…” He said.

“Aren’t you the one that turns green when you get angry?” Tony looked at him, dropping a bowl of popcorn onto the table in the middle of the seats “Because some people might say that’s a little strange too.”

“Touche…” Bruce shrugged, sitting down. 

“He has a point though…” Clint said, “I mean he reminds me of that Pittsburgh Green Man dude…the Urban Legend…what was his name?”

“Charlie No-Face” Tony said. 

“Charlie No-Face?” Steve asked, opening his eyes and fixing Tony with a sceptical stare.

“Yeah, the tale has it he was disfigured in an accident and could be seen at night, blowing cigarette smoke through the holes in his cheek, lurking by the roadside, trying to stay out of sight. Classic boogie man story”

“Total load of bullshit.” Banner shook his head.

“Actually, there’s some truth to it.” Katie said, her hands still working on Steve’s shoulders “It was a guy called Raymond Robinson who was so severely disfigured as a kid in an electrical accident that he couldn’t go out in public without creating panic. Instead he took to taking long walks at night. Local tourists would drive along the roads hoping to catch sight of him.”

Steve paused, how the fuck did she know that? She was a font of utter useless knowledge, his time at SHIELD with her had shown him that, but still… 

“What?” she asked, suddenly aware everyone was looking at her, including Steve “It was part of my degree…” “What, Urban Legends?” Clint frowned.

“I did English Lit and Mythology.” she said, her hands laying still on Steve’s shoulders. “One of my papers was on Urban Legends and the true stories that inspired them.”

“Wait, what is an Urban Legend?” Thor asked, sitting forward, curiosity piqued.

“Exactly what they say on the tin Thunder God.” Katie looked at him “It’s a modern genre of folklore and consists of fictional stories associated with the macabre, superstitions blab la bla. and more often than not rooted in local history and popular culture.”

“But they have elements of truth?” The God asked.

“Some do.” she nodded “But some of them are total myth.”

“So some are Urban Myths, some are Urban Legends?” Thor pressed, eagerly.

“Aint that the same thing?” Clint asked “A myth and a legend? At least that’s what I heard.” Thor and Katie both shook their heads.

“You heard wrong.” Katie looked at him “A legend is a collection of stories about a person or significant event and whilst unverifiable they are handed down and accepted as historical. So, things like King Arthur. It’s accepted there WAS a King called Arthur and he had a set of Knights, but the stories about his Wizard friend, Merlin, Excalibur… no way of proving.”

“And a Myth is bullshit?” Clint asked.

“It’s a made up story, an idea or a concept. Sometimes an imaginary thing, or person. Mythical stories often contain heroes or deities and explain a practice, rite or natural phenomenon.” Katie said, “Mind you, until Thor arrived on Earth Norse Gods were a Myth in themselves so who knows…” “Well that’s not confusing.” Clint mumbled, snatching a handful of popcorn. 

“I had this exact conversation with Fury a few years back” Katie chuckled “You re-wrote our entire History books Thor.” The God grinned. “I would very much like to hear some of these Urban Legends or Myths.” he said eagerly.

“Or we could go one better.” Natasha suggested “It is movie night and there’s a film called Urban Legend…” Tony groaned “I was gonna suggest watching Point Break.” “Watch me do what?” Thor asked, puzzled.

“No, the film.” Tony sighed. “It’s about surfers who rob a bank.”

“Why would surfers want to rob a bank?” Thor asked. “Same reason anyone wants to rob a bank I suppose.” Steve said, pushing himself up off the floor and reaching for the beer Tony had placed on the table, before settling next to Katie on the sofa “Money.” “It’s quite a good film actually.” Katie mused “Plus Keanu Reeves looks hot in it…” “Yeah well I belive it is my turn to choose so…” Thor clapped his hands together. “I would very much like to see this Urban Legends…”

“Alright…” Tony sighed, settling down “Prepare to have your mind rotted into nothingness…JARVIS, play the movie…”

***** “God I forgot how crap that film is.” Natasha grumbled as the credits started rolling. 

“It’s not so bad.” Clint said.

“Only because you fancy Tara Reid.” she shot back.

Clint shrugged and Katie glanced up from where she was snuggled under Steve’s arm to see her fiancé had fallen asleep, his head lolling against the back of the sofa. She smiled and took a second to just watch how relaxed he looked. It had taken him a while to get this comfortable around the other members of their team, but over the last few months especially, it was as if something had just twigged within him. And the relaxed, tactile, cheeky boy from Brooklyn she knew and loved seemed to bust free more often in front of everyone else. She reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek and he stirred slightly, blinking down at her and gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok.” she chuckled, rubbing his chest “You weren’t snoring. How much did you see?”

“Erm…” he pondered, his hand curling round the one that was rubbing over his T-shirt, fingers gently playing with hers. “The bit where the girl was strangled in her bed when her room mate thinks she’s having sex.”

“I thought that was the best bit.” Tony said, wiping his face “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the lights…”

“Yes.” Thor agreed eagerly “A real legend, something that could easily be true.” “You know, I remember when I was a kid, some guy in Oklahoma got arrested for trying to enact the whole headlight one.” Banner mused “He pursued the first guy who flashed him for not having his lights on but ended up crashing into a tree. Suppose that’s Karma.” 

“But he re-enacted that legend…” Natasha said, “He wasn’t the cause of it, surely?”

Bruce shrugged “I assume so, isn’t that the point though? You can’t trace half of these stories to an origin?”

“I was always convinced that the crazy cat lady who lived next door to us killed one of her kittens in the microwave when she tried to dry it after it fell into our swimming pool” Katie said, looking at Tony and raising her eyebrow “Mind you, that’s because you told me she did.” Tony laughed. “You were so gullible.” “I was 6.” she shook her head before she snorted, “Dad kicked your ass because you gave me nightmares for a week.”

“There is one that wasn’t in the film that I know for a FACT is true.” Clint said, and everyone turned to face him. Katie moved so she was sat up and looked at him, frowning and he gave her a soft wink. Steve gave a little whine at the fact she had moved and she turned to look at him as he held his arms out. She smiled, he was always clingy when he was tired, like a giant, oversized baby. She shuffled over onto his lap and he wrapped his left arm around her waist, laying his head against her chest as she looped her right arm over his shoulder. He loved snuggling up to her. The normality of being able to do and enjoy these type of moments was something he adored. His right hand dropped to her thigh, thumb gently skating over her leggings. 

“Truly?” Thor sat forward, listening intently. 

Clint nodded. “It happened in one of the towns I visited when I was part of the circus. There was a young girl, left home alone for the first time with only her dog for company. She’s sat watching the news and there’s an urgent report of a killer on the loose in her neighbourhood.”

Tony and Banner exchanged a look, the pair of them rolling their eyes. Katie glanced down at Steve who was listening intently. Biting her lip she looked back at Clint as he continued.

“Terrified, she locks all the doors and windows, but she forgets about the basement window…”

Thor gave a gasp and at that point Katie had to look away as the God’s face was utterly horrified. Natasha was suddenly focusing on her beer bottle, trying not to laugh. But Clint carried on, deadly serious, and Katie had to hand it to him. His poker face was impeccable.

“So she goes to bed, taking her dog to her room with her and letting it sleep under her bed, coz you know, she’s scared. Anyway, she wakes in the night to hear a dripping sound coming from the bathroom. It’s disturbing her a little but she’s too scared to get out of bed and find out what it is. Instead, for comfort, she reaches a hand toward the floor for the dog and is rewarded by a reassuring lick on her hand.”

“Good, good…” Thor said, nodding along “Man’s best friend after all.” “Exactly” Clint said, and in the corner of her eye Katie could see Tony and Banner both shaking with silent laughter. Looking at Steve again, she suppressed a snort of her own as the Soldier was frowning slightly, his eyes focused on Clint as he sat up.

“Anyway, the next morning when she wakes, she goes to the bathroom for a drink of water only to find her dead, mutilated dog hanging in the shower with his blood slowly dripping onto the tiles. On the shower wall, written in the dog’s blood, are the words “HUMANS CAN LICK, TOO.”

There was a pause for a beat before Steve let out a snort “What a load of crap.”

Tony and Banner began to laugh and Natasha grinned, but Thor was completely and utterly serious when he looked at Clint.

“So there was a killer, in her house…under her bed?” Clint nodded, a small smile on his face.

“Hey Thor…” Tony quipped, “Did you know they’re taking the word gullible out of the dictionary?”

Thor looked at him, frowning “Why?” ***** “Want me check under the bed for any serial killers?” Steve asked as he emerged from the en-suite in his boxers, top half bare. 

Katie grinned “I’m sure if there’s one hiding you’ll keep me safe Soldier…” He frowned playfully as he pulled back the duvet and crawled onto the bed so he was hovering over her “Does that make me your dog?”

“Down boy.” she smirked as grabbed her wrist and licked her palm. She shrieked, laughing as she wiped it on his back “That’s disgusting…” “You don’t usually complain when I’m using my tongue.” he quipped cheekily.

“Steven Grant Rogers…” she said in a mock tone of shock. He chuckled slightly, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss quickly grew heated and his hands dropped to her hips, clutching at the hem of his shirt she was wearing, as ever.

“I don’t know why you bother wearing anything to bed…” he grinned as he pulled it over her head “It always comes off…” “That’s because you’re a sex fiend.” she smirked as he kissed her again, his hands tracing up her ribs. She tipped her pelvis up to meet his and he let out a soft groan as she pressed against his groin, his arousal becoming more and more evident as he took over, grinding up against her spot, his lips moving across her jawline and to her neck.

Then, all at once there was a huge crash of what sounded like thunder, and the alarm began to ring out through their apartment.

Steve stilled, and he glanced at Katie for a second.

“Are you fucking kidding me…” She groaned as he jumped off her, pulling on a pair of sweats, tossing her the shirt she had been in. She pulled it on and grabbed a pair of shorts to cover her underwear clad bottom half before she reached under the dresser for her gun and they darted into the living room.

“JARVIS?” Steve spoke as he grabbed his shield which, ever since the whole incident with Hydra the previous year stayed in their apartment. 

“Disturbance detected on residential floor 29.” The AI offered as called the elevator. 

“That’s Clint and Thor’s floor…” Katie muttered as the elevator doors opened and Tony was already in there, his iron man gauntlets on his hand. 

“Precaution…”he muttered as Steve looked at him. “There’s no way anyone could get in here…”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened onto the floor. The three of them stepped out to see Clint sprawled on the floor surrounded by bits of plaster and breezeblock, groaning, Natasha bent over him. Thor stood a few feet away by a huge hole in the wall to their right. The door to the stairs flew open and Banner emerged, frowning as he took in the scene in front of him.

“What the fuck?” he asked as Katie’s eyes diverted to Thor who was panting, hammer in his hand, his bare chest heaving. 

“I’m sorry…” Thor said, bending over to help Clint to his feet “But you scared me Barton.” “Scared you?” Steve looked at him, frowning. “How did he scare you so much that you put him through the wall?

“He’s done A Barton” Nat smirked as Clint doubled over, groaning, clutching at his side whilst the rest of the team smirked or let out a chuckle. A Barton was a term Nat had coined ages ago for when Clint did something utterly stupid, like taking out a full horde of hostiles only to then go and knock himself out by colliding with a tree branch when running back to the jet, or managing to spill boiling hot coffee all down his front when the lid to his cup wasn’t on properly.

“So what did he do this time?” Steve asked as the arm holding his shield dropped to his side.

“He led under my bed.” Thor said, “And licked my hand.” There was a pause before Katie and Tony both let out huge snorts of laughter, as Steve rolled his eyes, a smile tugging on his face. 

“I think you broke my ribs.” Clint groaned, and Thor looked devastated. 

“Serves you right.” Tony said, glancing at the hole in the wall, shaking his head. “JARVIS, arrange someone to fix this in the morning. I’m going back to bed…”

“Do you need medical?” Steve asked, looking at Clint. He shook his head. “Well looks like you just made an Urban Legend of your own Hawkeye.” Katie said, grinning.  “The story of the dumbass Archer who thought it was a good idea to scare the shit out of the God of Thunder.”

@the-omni-princess  @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld  @cobalt-gear  @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13  @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie  @navispalace @patzammit  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog  @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner  @ayamenimthiriel  @coldmuffinbanditshoe  @disneylovingal @madzmilllz  @sgtjaamesbaarnes @waiting4inspiration​

[diddlesanddoodles]

Dumpling ch. 20

(Author’s notes: Posting this one early as a thank you to @thespicynoodle for all the amazing art work they did for Dumpling!)

To Yale’s credit, he did not immediately dismiss her claims of dead people in the walls as the  stressed induced imaginings of a lunatic. He waited for her to calm down and then asked her gently, “What do you mean in the walls? Here in the castle?”

She nodded, fighting a fresh wave of tears. “I saw them...when...”

“S’alright. Don’t force yerself. Just take deep breaths and talk when yer good and ready, eh?”

After a moment, she had regained enough composure to begin to explain just how she had managed to come across the catacombs.  

“Oh, Dumplin’. No need t’be scared of some dusty old bones,” Yale assured her. “The dead can’t hurt ya.”  

“But...”

“Probably been there since the castle was first built thousands of years ago. This place has been destroyed and rebuilt and switched hands so many times over the centuries I wouldn’t be surprised t’know it use to be a human castle. Someone had t’ave built them tunnels after all.”

“Yale...” she said quietly. She was so afraid to say it out loud. “They spoke to me...”

He blinked in confusion and seemed to have trouble understanding exactly what she was trying to say. “The...bones?”

“I’m not crazy...” she sobbed, feeling the shame and fear of not being believed, but Yale hurriedly hushed her.  

“Nah, nah. I believe ya!” he assured her, bending his head lower as if to show her his grinning face. “Just...never heard of bones talkin’ before.”  

He watched her for a moment, studying her face. “Ya tell Maevis about it?”

She shook her heard as she wiped the moisture from her face with the collar of her smock.

“Just you...”

“Just me?” Yale asked pleasantly surprised. “Well, don’t that make me feel special.”  

She could not help but smile at that and it was glorious how it seemed to break apart the heavy stone that seemed to have lodged inside her stomach. The welling of emotion seemed to be drying up and she began to feel a little more in control of herself.  

“S’ what did they say?” he asked, propping his head up in his hand. “These chatty bones.”  

“I couldn’t understand them at first,” she said. “But they were saying...the prophecy about the King? The one that… why everyone calls him the Gold King...”

Yale looked incredulous and just a bit disappointed. “That’s...odd. I would’ve thought they’d have something a little more interestin’ to say stead of that old thing.”

“But in my dream...the nightmare, I mean...” she said. “It said...he said that someone could see me and was coming...”  

“Hm,” Yale pondered that, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That what has ya scared, eh? Something from the dark’s gonna come after ya?”

"I don’t know...maybe...”

“Well,” said the young giant. “I’ll say this. You’ve had a rough go of it fer as young as ya are. I’m not gonna tell ya yer wrong to be scared, ‘cause if I were ya, I’d be terrified all the time. But if ya can believe anything, ya can believe me in this…"

He pinched her face gently between two fingers. “I ain’t gonna let anything bad happen to ya.”  

She did believe him, but even that wasn’t enough to fully erase the questions and concerns. As though sensing her doubt, he squished her face lightly and despite her somber mood,

Nenani could not keep the giggle from escaping. Yale hummed, satisfied.  

“Have I ever told you about my family or how I started here?” he asked. Nenani shook her head, still smiling, as she pushed his fingers away. He gave her no paused and scooped her up then settled into his bunk himself. One he made himself comfortable, he sat her down on one of his bent knees. “Well, there’s me Mum. Dad passed some years ago when I was small, around yer age. I’m the oldest and only son and then there’re m’ sisters. I’ve got six younger sisters, lass. Six! Lots of hungry lil’uns running round, gettin’ into scapes and pullin’ hair. I had t’be there fer ‘im when I was still a babe myself.”  

Yale paused, lost in thought, and then seemed to snap back to attention. He smiled warmly at her. “And ya remind me a whole lot of ‘em. Th’way they were back then. Suppose that might be why I took such a likin’ t’ya right after I first caught ya.”

He poked her in the belly, grinning when he was able to weasel another giggle from her.

“It was real rough after dad died. Real tough. Mum and me were at it alone just the two of us fer a long while, just trying to keep food in the house and a fire lit. I...didn’t handle it well. Started stealin’ and being a lil shit and makin’ hard fer Mum.” He paused to take a long rejuvenating breath. “I know how hard life can get when ya don’t have just one of yer folks around and had I lost Mum too...I don’t know what I’d done. I was a mess back then. Worried Mum sick that I’d end up arrested or worse. So she got me a job here as a tenderfoot under Farris since he had a reputation fer straightenin’ out snot nosed hooligans like me. M’first day I called Farris fat and he punched me in the face.”

Seeing Nenani’s incredulous expression, Yale laughed. “Oh yeh, I did. It took some time, but he managed to straighten me out right. Hatin’ him fer it fer a while too. But once he saw that I wasn’t entirely hopeless and actually had a brain, he made me his assistant and started teachin’ me about the spices and plants. Gave me responsibilities. A purpose. A direction t’my life that I didn’t have before. And in a lot of ways he saved m’life too. And m’family’s. S’why he call yell and scream and curse at me all he wants all day long and I’ll still be singin’ his praises till the day I’m six feet under the dirt. He made me family.”

“...but don’t you miss your Mom and sisters?”

“A’course! Oh, I write to’ em when I can,” Yale said. “Four of m’sisters are married with lil’uns of their own now. I try to visit ‘em just before th’ winter solstice, but I haven’t been in a long while. Last letter I wrote t’my Mum was just after you came to us actually. Wanna know what she said?”

“What?”

“Well, first she scolded me fer makin’ ya think we were gonna eat ya and makin’ ya cry, but then she also reminded me to remember what it was like right after Dad passed and all that hurt I had inside and how scared I was. She said imagine if ya were one of my lil’ sisters goin’ through all what ya were and to make ya feel like ya had a safe place to just be to get through that hurt.”  

He smiled sadly at her and for a moment, he looked much older than he was and she could see the faint traces of his own trauma etched into the lines of his face.  

“Now, I know we ain’t ya blood family and maybe we’re not the best role models fer a wee lass, but I think we’re an alright substitution. We do in a pinch, eh?”

Nenani belatedly realized she was crying again, but the fuel that was feeding the tears was an entirely different emotion. “So ya don’t need to be scared no more.”    

Gingerly, Yale wiped her cheeks with a corner of his apron. His smile was so comforting to Nenani that she could feel the last flecks of her night terror dissipating and leaving her with a solid sense of warmth and security. Wordlessly, Yale plucked her up again and settled down against his pillow before placing her on his chest and draping one hand over her shoulders and back, rubbing lightly. He began to sing…

Far away in the blue hill valley

Therein lies a weeping willow tree

Its bark is silver  

and the leaves are golden

But I care for none of these

Don’t cry my darling

For I am here with you

Though you can no longer see me

I’ll be with you

In the blue hill valley

Sleeping with you  

Underneath that weeping willow tree

…………………………………………..

When she woke the next morning, light was spilling through the open curtain to the barracks and she was confused to find that she was all alone. All around her, the other bunks were empty with clear evidence that they had been slept in, but no giants. She found it very odd that she had not been awoken with the rest of them, but as she thought about it further, she decided not to question it and enjoy the relative quiet and comfortable place on Yale’s pillow. However, just as she was drifting back to sleep, the light from the kitchens flickered and she opened her eyes to see Farris standing next to the bed, looking down at her with an amused smirk.  

“Enjoy yer pitty sleep, Dumplin’?” he asked. She stretched and tried to bury herself further into plush bedding while making an incoherent mewling sound that translated roughly to ‘I still wanna sleep’. Farris laughed and slapped the wooden support of the bunk above. “Yer burnin’ the mornin’ away, lass. C’mon, up with ya. Yer with me today.”  

She mumbled something in reply, but her words muffled by the pillow.  

“Well, suit yerself,” Farris replied, walking back through the curtains and yelling back to her, “Ya just wont be gettin’ any breakfast then.”  

Nenani pushed herself upright, strands of wild frizzled hair draping over her face and she hollered back. “No! Wait! I want breakfast!”

Nenani rolled down the pillow and hastily clambered down the side of the bunk and stopped just outside the barracks entryway where Farris’s boots blocked her path. He looked down at her expectantly and raised an eyebrow. “Yer lookin’ a lil’ bushy there, lil’un.”

Nenani ran her hands over her head and tried to brush down her wild hair. She had not braided it the day before as she normally did to keep it neat as Lolly had shown her, and having slept with it unbound had left her with quite a mane. Farris watched her try to tame her hair for a moment before shaking his head and bending down, crooking his finger at her and trying not to laugh. “C’mon, lass. Ya can try and manage that thing over yer porridge.”

Farris sat her on the long table with a small helping of porridge and handed a note off to a footman before disappearing into the spice pantry. Kol and Quinn were in the throws of the last big push for the morning’s baking and had no time for morning greetings as servants and footmen flooded in to collect their offerings onto trays and into baskets for the upstairs tables. Herit was on pit duty and still wore his torn shirt, now repaired, but not very well.  

“Feeling better?” he asked, smiling at her despite the arduousness of his task.

“Yeah, a lot,” she replied, flushing a little in embarrassment. “It was just a nightmare. Sorry for screaming...”

“I had real bad nightmare once,” Herit told her. “I dreamed that m’ old Gran visited me here and she started yelling at me fer not puttin’ enough sultanas in the scones like she’d taught me,” he said. “Then she turned into Farris, but still had on Gran’s frock and I ended up brunin’ the scones.”  

Nenani snorted into her porridge, which Herit deemed a victory, but his smug grin dropped as soon as Farris exited the spice pantry. The spice master pinned the younger Vhasshalan with a warning eye. “I don’t wanna be hearin’ nothin’ about me wearin’ yer Nan’s frock again, Herit.”

“Aye, boss.”

“Good lad. Keep that spit going now, no slackin’. It’ll put some strength into them beans ya call arms.”  

Red in the face with both embarrassment and exertion, Herit turned his attention back to turning the iron handle of the spit. A fat boar, just barely showing any color, rotated slowly over the fire. Nenani ate her breakfast, watching the comings and goings of the kitchen in full swing. When no one was looking, Kol ran over and slipped her a piece of sweet roll and then gave the remaining portion to Herit, who gratefully stuffed it into his mouth. When Farris walked back into the main kitchen, the young giant hurriedly began to turn the spit faster to make it appear that nothing was amiss while trying to quickly chew and swallow.  

Farris had began to organized a selection of various cloth covered pots and small satchels filled with herbs, placing the lot of them in a basket. Once satisfied,  he set a kettle onto to the fire and then took a moment to check the rotating boar. He hummed disapprovingly and turned his head to bark at Herit that he was turning too fast.  

“Yer gonna drop dead at that pace,” he warned. “Steady, boy.”

“Avery makes this look so easy...” Herit grunted, wincing as he went. “No wonder he’s built like a bull.”  

“Let that be a lesson to put ya off from fightin’ in my kitchen,” Farris laughed. “Think about yer sore arms next time ya get the urge to throw a punch.”

“What’s this about fighting?” Nenani’s head turned at hearing the familiar female voice and she smiled brightly as Lolly stepped down from the servants stairway and into the kitchen.  

“Nothing, lass,” Farris assured her. “The tenderfoots got into it last night. Gjerk’s got a busted lip, but that’d be the worst of it.”  

Lolly looked Herit up and down with a critical eye. She did not seem impressed. “Brawling at your age? Really. Your mother would swat you.”

“Already did it fer her,” Farris quipped proudly. “Pit duty fer that one today, then Gjerk’s turn tomorrow. A few hours turnin’ a boar will do the trick nicely.”  

“I suppose it would,” Lolly said approvingly before turning her attention to Nenani who was standing near the edge of the table. She crouched down, smiling brightly and gently took each of Nenani’s hands in hers, playfully swinging them to and fro. “But I’ve come to check on this one. How are you, my darling?”

“I’m doing good,” Nenani said. She had not seen Lolly very much at all since first arriving in Vhasshal as her duties kept her very busy and it made her that much happier to see her again. Lolly and the other lady servants had been so charitable to her and she had never forgotten that kindness. Lolly laughed lightly, turning her attention to Nenani’s wild mane of unkempt hair. “What are we going to do with all this? Haven’t you been keeping it tied up like I taught you?”  

“I have, I promise,” she assured Lolly. “But I didn’t yesterday. I...forgot.”  

“She had quite th’adventure yesterday,” Farris added. “Suppose ya heard all about the Ibronian.”

“Creag?” Lolly asked, saying his name almost like a curse. She scowled at the mentioning of it as though it left a sour and unpleasant taste in her mouth. “Yes, I am regretfully very familiar with his person.”

“S’ya hear about him tyrin’ t’kill Jae, then?”

“I did,” Lolly said, looking genuinely concerned. A stark contrast to how Nenani recalled the last time she had spoken about the King’s ward. “He isn’t hurt is he?”

“Nah, the brat’s still in one piece,” Farris assured her. He jerked his head down in gesture towards Nenani. “That one was with ‘im when the Ibrinoan went after ‘im though.”  

Lolly’s eyes grew wide.  

“What? No!” Lolly turned her attention back to Nenani, seeming to be searching for some evidence of injury or trauma. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Ah! That bastard, I could skin him.”

“Oh, ho-ho!” Farris laughed, eyes bright with mirth at Lolly’s verbal slippage.  “Language, lass!”

“Oh, shut it, Farris. I’m sure she’s heard far worse down here with you lot.”

“Oh, aye,” he agreed. “That she has. But narry ya worry. He wasn’t interested in that one anyway. They’re both fine and unharmed. Rattled a bit maybe, but nothing more. Did manage to lose her marker though.”

“Oh, did she,” Nenani felt her face flush as Lolly hummed thoughtfully, scanning her over with a critical eye. “Well, I see you’ve gotten her a new one.”  

“Keral found her wanderin’ the halls alone,” Farris explained as he retold the story of the prior day’s escapades. He seemed to have been able to find the humor in it and didn’t seem to be at all angry and she was very grateful for that. “And ya know how he gets with ‘em.”

“Oh, you haven’t any standing this that defense,” Lolly reprimanded. “You’re just as terrible. You all had this one absolutely petrified. Took us over an hour to convince her she was safe and no one was actually going to eat her.”

Farris just shrugged noncommittally. He was not denying the accusation.  

“Best way to keep wayward humans from wandering onto the grounds is t’make ‘em too scared to even try,” he said. “’Course that was before I decided I’d keep her. Then she caught the reap.”  

Lolly’s eyes turned sad for a moment and she nodded knowingly.

“So it’s true then?” he asked her suddenly, bringing the topic back to Creag. “He’s bein’ sent off?”

“Yes,” she said. “He was escorted to the border this morning.”

“Suppose the Queen’s not too happy about that.”

“It was her idea,” Lolly replied. “His majesty was going to have him serve a small sentence and return back to her service, but she recommended that he be sent back home.”  

“Really? Well, I find that shockin’.”

“I know what people have been saying about her. And while I don’t think she has not been deserving of some of it, Queen Rosanna is making an effort to conform to our ways.”  

“The humans ya mean.”

“Yes. She’s been very receptive to my and the other ladies advice when we speak of their virtues. The war is over. These people are broken and lost and mean no harm to us. I think we finally began to get through to her and I believe that might have been what angered Creag into action.”

“That’s why he went after Jae? ‘Cause he was pissed his mistress might be changin’ her tune?”

“I don’t know this for a fact,” Lolly replied. “But the day before yesterday was when I suggested she try and make amends with Jae or at the very least allow him to properly apologize for his behavior. As a good faith gesture to the King at the very least. His majesty has been worried that Jae hasn’t come to see him in so long. Since the wedding, I believe. She must have noticed her new husband was not happy about that. And then yesterday Creag did what he did. And now here we are speaking of it.”

Farris leaned against wall, humming contemplatively. “Hm.”

“I was actually hoping to speak with Jae,” Lolly said, craning her head looking about the room. “He is here is he not?”

“Aye,” Farris replied with a nod. “King’s orders were to keep ‘im down here till he collected the brat himself. Bart’s puttin’ ‘im to some weed pullin’ out in the yard. Gotta keep them little hands busy or they’ll find their own trouble.”  

“Ah, good. I will go to him later,” she said, running her fingers over the brush of Nenani’s hair. “For now, though, I think I need to fix this one’s hair before she starts attracting birds.”

“Attracting birds?” Nenani asked bewildered. Farris grinned at them both.  

“She’s sayin’ birds might wanna start buildin’ their nests in yer hair,” he chuckled. “If they haven’t already.”

Nenani opened her mouth to protest, but could not come up with an adequate response.  

“Hm,” Lolly mused, again studying the whole of Nenani’s person. “Maybe a bath first and a change of clothes. Farris, could I trouble you for-”

“Already ahead of ya, lass,” Farris replied, pulling the boiling kettle from the fire and setting it down atop a wooden trivet. “I’ve got a basin ready in the pantry and her spare clothes are in the chest on the shelf just there.”

Lolly nodded approvingly. She gathered Nenani up and tucked her into the crook of one arm and reached for the kettle with her free hand. “If I didn’t know any better, Farris, I’d say you’re starting to become quite good at this.”

“Ain’t nothing to knowin’ when someone needs a bath, lass,” he laughed.  

“I do not stink!” Nenani snapped, incredulous.  

Farris did not reply and Herit just laughed.  

…………………………………….

She had forgotten how nice a hot bath felt, especially as the weather was increasingly cold and rainy. The basin was quite large and its normally use was for pealing giant rhotas, which were just very large potatoes. So she had plenty of room to splash about and Lolly even indulged her and allowed her a few minutes of free play before getting down to the business of actually washing. Her hair, as Lolly warned her, was a beast to get washed and untangled. But at last, Lolly exited the spice pantry with a clean and brushed Nenani. Hair neatly plaited and tied.  

“I’ll talk with the girls about making you some more clothes,” she muttered as she rummaged through the small chest of clothes, all of which had been made by her and her fellow lady servants. “You’ll be growing out of these ones in no time. And a scarf too, I think. And some boots, as well. These slippers are starting to wear awfully thin and – oh! Jae there you are! I had hoped to...why are you all wet?”

Jae had wordlessly entered the kitchens, red faced and fuming. And completely soaked from his head to his toes. Out in the courtyard, Bart was hysterically laughing. Upon hearing Lolly, both Quinn and Kol glanced over and upon seeing the boy’s sorry state, they too let lose a bout of hearty laughter.  

“Yer lookin’ like a drowned rat!”

“Fuck off,” Jae growled.  

“What happened?” Nenani asked.  

“The gutter was clogged,” he growled, not really looking anyone in the face. “I unclogged it.”

“Are you alright?” she asked.  

“No,” Jae replied. “Not really...”

Jae leaped easily down the few steps and into the kitchen proper and made a bee line towards the hearth, ostensibly to warm himself up. Lolly stopped him, blocking his path with her foot.  

“You need to change out of those clothes, young man. You’ll catch sick.”

“Fantastic,” Jae replied flatly, glaring up at the large woman. “But it doesn’t matter anyway since I haven’t any spare clothes.”

“You have plenty in your room,” Lolly replied, returning his glare. “You remember, don’t you? Your room? The one you haven’t even seen in weeks?”

“Well I can’t get to them now,” Jae snapped, raising his voice and becoming visibly agitated. “Warren says I can’t leave till he says so. So here I’m staying. In wet clothes. Because fuck it!”

“Don’t take that tone with me, son,” Lolly shook her head disapprovingly. “What has gotten into you of late? You disappear for weeks at a time and when you do show up you’re in the Library and you don’t speak to anyone-”

“You mean I don’t speak to you,” he spat.  

“Or the King,” Lolly spat back. “Do you have any idea just how worried he’s been?”

“Obviously not enough to actually come and find me!” Jae yelled angrily, his voice breaking. “You tell me that I’m wrong for not going to him? Why did he never come to check to see if I was okay? Because I’m the joke. Oh let’s have a big laugh at Jae! Fucking idiot can’t do anything right. It’s so funny how he got drunk and spilled gravy on the Queen! So embarrassing for him. Let’s laugh at the poor fucking orphan boy who can’t even sleep in his own damn room anymore because some boulder headed lunatic thinks I’m somehow going to kill Vhasshalan’s unborn heir. Isn’t that fucking hilarious!”

No one was laughing anymore and Herit’s winding of the spit had slowed almost to a stop. Both Quinn and Kol were frozen and staring, bowls of dough stopped mid-knead. From the outside courtyard, Yale and Avery poked their heads inside, curious at the commotion.  

“Jae,” Lolly said softly, her words painted with faint concern. “None of that is true...”

“You wanna know why I spend so much time up in the tower with Barnaby and Maevis?” he asked, breathless with emotion and anger and pain. “BECAUSE THEY DON’T MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I’ A FUCKING IDIOT!”

“Alright,” Farris snapped, appearing from behind Lolly. He glowered down at the human boy and reached down to sweep Jae up in his two calloused hands, not very gently either. “That’s enough of yer bellyaching, ya lil’shit.”

Jae was not happy at all as he was lifted off of the ground and he struggled violently, tears blurring his vision. “Farris, I swear to the fucking Gods if you don’t put me down right now-!”  

Farris deftly grasped the boy’s face between his fingers, forcing him to maintain eye contact. “You’ll be quiet is what yer gonna be, boy. Do you understand me?”

Jae’s breathed hard through his nose, nostrils flaring. He glared into the kitchen master’s face, but did not say anything. Farris brought his face closer to Jae’s and lowered his voice in warning. “I said...do you understand?”

Jae jerked his head in something akin to a nod. Satisfied, Farris tucked Jae under one arm and turned to Lolly. “We don’t have anything fer ‘im to change into. Ya mind fetchin’ him something, lass?”  

Lolly looked as though she wanted to say something, but stopped herself. She spared one sad glance towards Jae before nodding to Farris. “I can do that. I won’t be long.”

As Lolly turned to rush up the servants entrance stair well, Farris turned and disappeared into the spice pantry and closed the door behind him.

………………………….

Nenani sat quietly on the table, staring at the green door and worried. Since she first met Jae, she had sensed a sadness about him, hidden under his jokes and laughter. And it made her incredibly sad to know her friend had been hurting and not once had she tried to help him.

She was a terrible friend and it made her feel wretched.  

“Cheer up, Dumplin’,” Yale told her as he took an empty seat near her. “Jae will be fine.”

“He was really sad,” Nenani answered back without looking away from the green door. Her dejected and sad frown gave Yale pause, and he reached out nudged her shoulder. When she turned her doleful eyes to him, he sighed.  

“Remember what I told ya last night?” he asked her. She nodded. “Well, he’s going through that hurt too. Best thing ya can do fer ‘im to keep being his friend, eh? He thinks just ‘cause we give ‘im a hard time means we ain’t ‘is friends, but it ain’t true. Don’t gotta be ‘round here long before ya realize we haze all the tenderfoots. He’s just growin’ up and confused. Old enough to know some things and too young to know anything else. He ain’t the same lil’ urchin the King dragged back from the moors all them years ago. When ya get t’be around his age you’ll understand. The time between being a kid and becoming an adult is really hard and confusing.”

“...will I be that angry?” she asked, not entirely following.  

“I’m ain’t no prophet,” Yale shrugged. “But maybe. Ya both have a lot in common, losing yer folks young. That pain can make ya real angry if ya don’t know what t’do with it.”

She did not find that to be much consolation, but she nodded anyway. Lolly returned a little over twenty minutes later with a small bundle and without any greetings to the others, she went straight for the green door and knocked lightly.  

“It’s me, Farris,” she said. “I have his clothes.”  

The door opened a crack and there were some words exchanged that were too quiet for anyone else to hear. Finally, Lolly nodded and turned back towards the stairway as the green door closed shut once more.  

Yale’s attempt at distraction was to have Nenani name all the herbs and vegetables as he went about his work prepping for the afternoon luncheon. Avery made himself a nuisance of himself by walking near their work table every so often and try to convince her that she was mispronouncing the names.  

“It’s not pars-lee, lass. It’s pear-shly.”

“No it’s not,” she said as he walked away. “Pars-lee.”

“Pear-shly!” he yelled back with a cheeky grin.  

He would repeat the exercise whenever he walked by and over the course of a half hour, its scope extended beyond just the items that they were working with to any random fruit, herb, or vegetable. Yale was no help and allowed the torment, finding it too amusing.  

“Tay-mat-a,” Avery quipped as he walked by with a basket of venison heads to be boiled down, heading out into the courtyard.    

“Tomato!” Nenani yelled back at him.  

Avery poked his head back inside and answered back, “Poy-ta-ta!”

“POTATO!”  

From her vantage point, she could just see Avery’s back as he turned towards the courtyard, but he stopped and turned completely around, hurrying back into the kitchen. He plopped his basket of deer heads onto a counter and peeked back through the archway.  

Yale stared at his fellow cook bewildered. “What’s all this?”

“The King’s in the courtyard,” Avery replied in a hushed whisper.  

Yale started. “What now?”

“The King!” Avery turned to look at Yale with fervent eyes, a mixture of excitement and confusion. “He’s in the yard right now!”

Yale was immediately on his feet and rushed to the archway, peeking out curiously. Nenani saw every muscle in the black haired giant’s body stiffen.  

“Oh, fuck. He is.”

“I wasn’t lying!” Avery protested, still in a hushed whisper.  

“Well so much’a what comes outta yer gob is rubbish,” Yale countered. “I had t’make sure.”

“Ah, go fuck yerself, Yale.”

“Not in front of the King, I ain’t!”  

Avery looked like he wanted stay mad, but his scowl broke and he snickered. Something outside caught both their attentions and they scrambled away from the doorway and stood stiffly to the side. A Vhasshalan guard, dressed in the same type of boiled leather armor as captain Rheil, walked through. He scanned the kitchen, eyes falling to all persons inside.  

“Over here please, gentleman,” he said to Avery and Yale, gesturing with a jerk of his head for them to stand off to the side and away from the door. Both cooks moved with alacrity and stood straight and stiff. He pointed to Herit. “You, over here too.”

Herit looked panicked. “B-but...but I can’t stop spinning the spit sir, it’ll burn!”

“I’m not going to repeat myself, lad.”

Poor Herit was shaking, looking between the guard and the green door and knowing very well what Farris would have to say of he saw Herit walk away from pit duty. Guard's orders or none. With extreme reluctance, Herit stepped away and moved to stand next to Avery and Yale. The guard spotted Nenani on the table and did a double take, blinking. “Ah...uh, y-you’re fine there, human.”

“Oh...okay,” she replied awkwardly. There wasn’t many places she would have been able to go in any case. She couldn’t climb table legs like Jae.  

“William, please,” said King Warren as he stepped into the kitchen. The air seemed thinner suddenly as everyone seemed to breath in all at once. He was much as Nenani remembered him, but he was dressed more formally than she had ever seen and his hair had actually been pulled back into a plait. “These men have plenty to do without us interrupting them. Please, continue as you were. I don’t wish to distract you from your duties.”  

The King nodded to each of the kitchen staff present and he eyes fell to Nenani and he smiled warmly. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well, little ma’am. I do hope these fine fellows have been taking good care of you.”

All of a sudden, Nenani lost all sense of what she should be doing with her hands and her face felt hot. She nodded.  

“A-are you here to see Jae?” She asked, hoping she wasn’t stepping out of line. She suddenly realized she had not curtsied. Did she need to curtsy? How did one curtsy again?

“I am,” he replied with no inflection of irritation. “I’ve come to collect him, actually.”  

There was a part of her that was aware that she was being impertinent and she really just should remain silent, but she decided it was worth the risk. “He’s been really sad. But he won’t say it. And he’s really angry too, because he’s hurting. I think...I think he misses how things were before the wedding. Uh, your majesty.”  

She bobbed awkwardly in a pathetic attempt at a curtsy. Her heart thrummed alarmingly in her chest, hoping she had not insulted the King or spoke out of turn. But the King did not look angry at all. He looked sad in the same way she had seen Jae look sad.  

“Thank you,” he told her, voice gentle and he sounded sincere. “Thank you for taking care of him. He is very dear to me.”  

“You should tell him,” she said. “It would mean more if you told him.”

The King nodded thankfully before turning his attention to the green door. As though sensing, his Majesty’s presence, Farris pushed the door open and stepped through. He bent down in a shallow bow to King Warren. No words were spoken as the King walked to the door, giving Farris a nod before entering. Farris closed the door behind the monarch and stepped aside as the guard took post in front. The kitchen master gave the guard a once over and snorted as he moved away. A glance to his left and upon seeing the boar over the fire standing still, jerked his head towards Herit who was decidedly NOT at the hearth.  

“GET YER ARSE BACK ON THAT SPIT!”  

Herit leaped back to his place and began to spin in earnest, sweating and panicked. “S-sorry!”

Farris loomed over poor Herit, laying into him, but Nenani’s attention was drawn away as she was suddenly swept up and carried out through the archway.  

“W-what?” Nenani looked up to see Avery’s face. He grinned down at her.  

“Got a job fer ya, Dumplin’,” he told her.  

“What job?” she asked, frowning with suspicion. He walked along the side of the wall to a small window set near the ground. It was the window that looked into the spice pantry. He sat her down carefully and stepped back. She looked at him confused. “What?”

“See what the King’s sayin’,” he whispered. “Yer small enough no one’s gonna notice ya.”

“I-I don’t wanna get in trouble!” She replied, matching his hushed whisper.  

“Ya wont!” he assured her before slipping back inside the kitchens.  

She stared incredulously at the spot where Avery had been and then looked around the courtyard to find it quite empty. Bart and Gjerk were no where to be seen and neither was anyone else. Her ears prickled as she picked up the faint sound of the King’s voice and she turned to the window. It was dirty and obscured by weeds. Careful and trying not to make a sounds, she knelt down near the edge of the window and listened.  

“Are you going to speak to me at all?” the King asked.  

She wiped some of the dirt from the window and through it, she could see Jae sitting next to the basin, his hair wet, but now dressed in dry clothing. His eyes were red as though he had been crying.  

“Jae, I know you’ve been avoiding me these last weeks. But this silence is not helping. I cannot fix if I do not know what is wrong.”

“I just want to be left alone,” Jae replied, his voice raw. “I know your busy.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t make time for you. Gods above, I rely on you to give me an excuse not to have to speak with Lord Eldherst. I’ve had to sit through seventeen meetings with that old fart. He is convinced that the south moor would be the perfect spot to erect the new armory.”  

Jae’s morose face cracked a smile. “Heh. Serves you right.”  

The King seemed to take heart in his ward’s small smile. “Please tell me what you want of me.”  

Jae’s smile faded and he looked down at his feet, pained. “I don’t need anything from you that you’ve not already given me. I know...I know I’ve been a brat. I haven’t exactly made this marriage thing easy for you and I’m sorry for what happened at the wedding. I thought it would be easier for me to just...not be around while you and the Queen...y’know. Got to know each other?”  

The King looked tired and as Jae spoke, he seemed to wilt. “Rosanna does not hate you, Jae, if that what you fear. She wants a chance to apologize to you properly.”  

“Why? What does she have to apologize for?”

“For driving you away. From me.” Jae had spent most of the conversation staring at his feet, but upon hearing that, he looked up. “You are very dear to me, Jae. I owe you so much that I could never put into words and will be in debt to you for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t owe me anything Warren,” Jae snapped. “I was gonna die out there if you hadn’t found me. You took me in, clothed and fed me, you even taught me to read! I don’t want to be a burden or to get in the way. I don’t feel like there’s a place for me here anymore. So, it’s just easier this way.”

The King crouched down so as to be eye level with the human. “Why would you ever think you’re in the way?”

“You’re gonna have a kid soon,” Jae replied, scrubbing fiercely at his leaking eyes. “There isn’t a place for me by your side anymore. I...I k-know I’m not...I’m not your son, so...”

Jae’s words broke and he shook with real effort to hold back his emotions. King Warren looked awestruck and horrified. Then without a word, he reached out his arms and wrapped them around Jae, drawing the sobbing youth into him and tucking him into the crook of his shoulder.    

“What would make you ever believe that?” the King demanded. “Of course you are my son. From the moment we left those moors, I took on that mantle and I will never betray that vow. You are my son, Jae. And I love you dearly.”  

Jae’s eyes were wide and he shook as he began to cry and hiccup. His face disappeared as he buried it into the King’s shoulder.    

“Of course you are, you daft boy!” the king answered, though Nenani did not hear the question. She felt her cheeks and there were wet. But she was not sad. She felt happy and relieved and looked down at the King of Vhasshal, an imposing giant with the power of an entire kingdom behind him. And there was Jae. A human. Small and penniless. And she felt so happy for them.

The back of her shirt was abruptly yanked upwards and she was swept up from her spot on the ground and lifted high into the air. A warn calloused hand wrapped around her middle and she found herself the focus of a very unamused Farris. “Just what in seven hells d’ya think yer doin’?”

“Nothing...” she replied meekly.  

“Nothing,” he echoed back, clearly seeing through her. “’Nothing’ she says. First yer caught stealin’ from th’ King and now I catch ya spyin’ on ‘im? Yer sure determined to see them dungeons, ain’t ya, Dumplin’?”

“No!” she said, worried now. “I didn’t...I wasn’t! It...it was Avery’s idea!”

Farris covered her with his hand, muffling her cries of protest and shook his head with a long suffering sigh. “Yer hopeless, lass. Right ‘n properly hopeless.”

[freudensteins-monster]

A Banner Reunion

A WinterShock follow up to A Banner Day. Set post Age of Ultron and Ragnarok, not really Civil War compliant, and there’s no Thanos or looming Infinity War. Also posted on AO3.

The first person Bucky Barnes met as he stepped off the last quinjet out of Wakanda was Darcy Lewis. She looked more uptight than her file photo would suggest (Bucky had read the files of all facility staff on the flight over, and Darcy’s maybe twice), and seemed to have taken Pepper Potts as her style icon. The wavy brown hair from her file photo was pulled back in a tight bun, and the colourful sweaters and jeans had been replaced by a sharp business suit and sharper heels. 

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’m Darcy Lewis. I manage the upstate facility and act as the team’s PR manager. I’ll also be acting as a liaison between the facility, your legal team, and other interested parties. If you have any questions, day or night, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

She handed him a crisp white business card. Bucky took it with his shiny new Wakandan arm, noting a complete lack of reaction from Miss Lewis.

“Science Wrangler?” he read aloud.

“I have new ones on order,” she replied with a long-suffering sigh. 

“Thank you, Miss Lewis,” he smiled, tucking the business card into his jacket pocket. “But all I really want to know right now is which way to the mess hall?”

Miss Lewis smiled, but before she could respond Steve clapped him on the shoulder and led him away for a second breakfast. 

Over the next couple of weeks he received dozens of updates via Miss Lewis from his legal team about their attempts to have him cleared of all charges relating to the crimes he committed as the Winter Soldier (and the few he committed after), but he never saw her outside of their meetings. Not in the mess hall, not at team movie nights, not even in passing. According to Steve she was drowning in work and pretty much lived in her office. She needed help but had refused to hire assistants, not trusting the vetting process with all the enemies the Avengers had accumulated.

Feeling guilty, and just a little too curious for his own good, Bucky went in search of her office. He heard her before he saw her. It sounded like she was having the argument of the century with a disgruntled voice that reminded him of his old drill instructor. He was going to leave her to it and try again later when he heard his name being thrown about. He crept closer, keeping out of sight of Darcy and the holograph she was arguing with.

“How can you stand there denying the dangers posed by enhanced individuals when you’re harbouring the fugitive James Buchanan Barnes, the most prolific assassin in living memory?”

Bucky winced but Darcy narrowed her eyes at the hologram and stood her ground.

“Sergeant Barnes’ location is not a secret, nor is he a fugitive. He surrendered himself to the Wakandan authorities and per the agreement his legal representation made with the US government - which you’re well aware of, I remember how much you bitched about it in the press - he is on house arrest at this facility until his trial commences, if it ends up going ahead at all. And if you think he’s going to give up what little freedom he has now and could have in the future and sign this joke of a document, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Her opponent sneered. “Last I checked, Miss Lewis, you weren’t a lawyer.”

“Not yet, anyway. But I did pass my Civics 101 class, and I watched a lot of SchoolHouse Rock! as a kid: This is not a bill, or a law, or an official policy of the US Government. Even if it gets ratified by the UN, you cannot enforce it as it goes against the Constitution and violates a US citizen’s 4th, 5th, 6th, and 8th Amendment rights.”

“Wanda Maximoff-“

“-is a dual Sokovian-US citizen; I made sure of it. And if you can somehow round up a bunch of asshole commandos willing to enforce this PR nightmare to appease your bruised ego, the governor of New York - who gifted this land to the Avengers - and all his friends on Capitol Hill are going to have something to say about it. Especially after the so-called World Security Council tried to nuke his hometown while the Avengers were risking their lives to save his constituents from aliens. So,” she continued, tossing the intimidated stack of paper aside and waiting for it to hit her desk with a satisfying thump before continuing, “until you can put together something less offensive than this pile of crap, we don’t have anything more to talk about.”

“Listen here you little-“

“Sorry Thad, you’re breaking up. I think your country club is going through a tunnel.”

Darcy disconnected the holographic video call with a wave of her hand and fell into the closest chair with a dramatic groan.

“Wow…” Bucky remarked, stepping into her office. “I take it we don’t like that guy.” 

“We really don’t like that guy,” Darcy concurred, tossing her heels across the room in irritation.

“What’s his deal?”

“General Ross’ deal is that he wants all the power. And since superheroes have lots of power he wants them, preferably conscripted into service of the US government or locked up in a submersible military black site paid for with taxpayer dollars that he thinks I don’t know about. He’s been this way ever since Bruce’s accident.” At Bucky’s lack of recognition she continued, “Bruce was trying to replicate the supersoldier serum for the US Military, reporting to General Ross. Things went boom, Bruce turned into the Hulk, escaped Ross’ clutches and went on the run. Under the guise of bringing the Hulk in, Ross approved another human trial of the supersoldier serum. He ended up creating what the media dubbed as “the Abomination” – twice the rage of the Hulk, none of the ability to reconnect with his humanity. And while Bruce was forced to go back into hiding for the next five years for his part in destroying Harlem, General Ross didn’t even get knocked down a rank. The bastard shouldn’t be able to breathe in DC’s direction, let alone have a hand in policing “enhanced individuals,” so naturally he makes a perfect choice for Secretary of State,” she scoffed.

Bucky watched her for a moment before reaching out to help her up from her chair. “You look like you could use a drink. C’mon, I’m buying.”

“Dude, it’s like 10am,” Darcy argued, but took his hand regardless. 

Two floors down and one building over in the facility cafeteria Bucky watched on with barely disguised amusement as Darcy made love to her Mocha Frappuccino.

“Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff.”

She’d put on some flats and discarded her jacket before leaving her office, and once they were seated and waiting for their drinks she set her glasses down on the table and took down her hair. 

Bucky loved the way she smiled when she was able to let go of the stress of her job, even if it was only for a moment, so he did what he could to give her more of them. Tuesday morning coffee breaks became a regular occurrence, and if she missed dinner Bucky would check in on her to make sure she took a break and ate something. Eventually he asked her to schedule all their meetings and anything to do with his legal issues as her last tasks of the day, that way if she was snowed under and running late he had an excuse to invite her to join him for dinner afterwards. He was working up the nerve to ask her to dinner without the pretense of work when the Asgardians arrived.

Steve stood beside him, watching as the huge ship landed just beyond the facility's - and Bucky’s - boundaries. 

“So it’s true?” Darcy asked, out of breath from the short run from the administration building. “He’s really back?”

“Yeah, Thor’s back. You were there when he crash landed the first time, right?” Steve asked.

“She tased him,” Bucky informed him with a smirk. “I read the report.”

“Yeah, I totally tased him. And introduced him to Pop-Tarts. But I also lost him in the breakup – it’s been, like, almost two years since I last saw him.”

It didn’t stop her waving like a lunatic the moment Thor ambled down the spaceship’s ramp, a small village worth of people following close behind him.

“Oh, this is going to be so much paperwork…” Darcy muttered as the god caught sight of them.

“My friends! Lady Darcy!!”

“Thor! What the hell happened to your eye?” she asked when he wrapped her up in one of his godly hugs.

“It’s a long story, lightning sister.”

“Did you bring all of Asgard with you?” Steve asked as he and Bucky watched the strangely dressed visitors make the most of the sunshine and soft grass.

“As many as we could save,” Thor admitted somberly. “I know that their arrival will cause some problems for your world’s governments but any aid you could provide my people in our time of need would be gratefully appreciated. A new homeland, perhaps?” he added, managing to do pretty decent puppy dog eyes even with only one good one.

“I’ll make some calls,” Darcy offered, flashing Thor an indulgent smile.

“Thank you, my lightning sister. And for your efforts, I have brought you a souvenir.”

“Space souvenir? Cool!”

“Aye, very cool,” he smirked, putting a hand around her shoulders and directing her gaze to where a man wearing psychedelic monk robes was trying to make his way through the crowd of Asgardians. 

Darcy’s expression fell and Bucky almost rushed to her side.

“Bruce?”

At the sound of his name the man looked up and regarded Darcy sheepishly.

“Hey, bunny.”

“Bruce!!” Darcy was off like a shot, shoes abandoned in the grass as she all but threw herself on the new arrival. “What the hell happened to you? I hacked everyone trying to find you but not even Phil had eyes on you. Why didn’t you call me!” she cried, hugging him so tightly Bucky was worried the guy might not be able to breathe.

“I’m so sorry Darcy. I was stuck in Hulk mode up until a couple of days ago. He was like a gladiator on this trash planet in the outer reaches of the universe. It was crazy.”

“Not as crazy as these clothes, dude,” she teased with a sniffle, tugging on the gold vestments.

“Yeah, they’re a lot. But I had to Hulk out again on Asgard and these were the only spare clothes lying around on the spaceship. Oh, I gotta introduce you to some new friends,” he exclaimed excitedly, leading Darcy back towards the spaceship. 

Bucky watched her go, his heart breaking at the sight of her reuniting with her fella. She’d mentioned Bruce a few times, but he hadn’t realised they had been an item. Maybe, since he’d apparently disappeared on her, it had been too painful for her to talk about. Bucky left Steve and Thor to organise the SHIELD agents that had descended to deal with the alien incursion, and left Darcy to her reunion. 

In the weeks that followed Bucky hardly saw Darcy at all. She was spearheading talks with the Norwergian government to establish New Asgard within their borders and spent the rest of her time managing the needs of the refugees who had set up a temporary camp in the field where they landed. She was also fending off demands for the arrest of Thor’s brother, who apparently was more hated and feared than the Winter Soldier was. 

In an effort to reduce her workload Bucky had offered to deal with his legal team directly, even though he hated how they talked down to him when giving him updates. But it made Darcy’s life easier so he took it on, often bringing Steve in on their conference calls to act as a buffer when he felt he was close to snapping at one of his condescending but very, very good lawyers.

Now that he had no reason to bother Darcy he saw her even less than when he first arrived, though he did hear that Bruce had dragged her out of her office once or twice for a late dinner. They never seemed as touchy feely as they had when they were first reunited and they hadn’t spent any time alone together behind closed doors (not that he’d checked security footage). Maybe they weren’t together any more - a lot can happen in two years, Bucky mused. Maybe Bruce had moved on - he was always gushing about that intimidating and frequently drunk Valkyrie woman. Or maybe, Bucky hoped against hope, Darcy had. The question was keeping him up at night, and since Darcy was too busy to be bothered with his insecurities he sought out the famous Dr Bruce Banner. 

Bucky found him a few days later, after another postponed coffee date, in one of the facilities labs, looking over some holographic schematics. 

“Sergeant Barnes, it’s nice to see you again. What can I do for you?” Bruce greeted with a smile. 

“I’m not interrupting?” he asked, gesturing at the complicated calculations.

“Not at all. It’s just a project Tony wants a second opinion on. It’s his way of saying “I missed you too,” he jested. 

Bucky bit the bullet. “It’s about Darcy.”

“What about her?” 

“I just… I feel like a real shitheel asking, but I gotta know; are you and Darcy together?”

“Together like…”

“Dating. Are you dating?”

Bruce’s eyes almost bugged out of his skull. “Did Tony put you up to this?”

“Stark and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Bucky admitted.

“And Darcy never mentioned me? She said you two had been hanging out a lot before she got sidetracked with all the Asgardian refugee drama.”

“She mentioned you plenty. She just never mentioned that two of you were an item.”

“And she also never mentioned that I’m her father, I take it,” Bruce replied with a smirk.

“...What?”

“I’m her biological father. I am not dating her,” Bruce reiterated. “But I take it you want to?” he teased. 

“Uh… yes?” he winced after his brain came back online after processing this new information. “Did you not want me to? I would understand,” he murmured, gesturing vaguely at his shiny new arm as though his bloody history was written on the metal plates.

“I don’t get to have a say in the matter,” Bruce remarked, not unkindly, as he returned most of his attention back to the glowing calculations. “and I’m kind of the last guy who should be giving you grief over things you did when you weren’t in full control of yourself. Besides, you’ve probably known her longer than I have at this point.” He smiled sadly at Bucky’s confused expression. “The first time I met Darcy was when she and Jane moved into Tony’s tower. She told me I was her biological father about two weeks later. Before that moment, I hadn’t even known I had a daughter. We had maybe three months of getting to know each other, eating takeout in my lab once a week, and then Ultron happened. I quite literally disappeared off the face of the earth. I come back, and she’s all grown up and practically running the world,” he laughed. “She’s also crushing pretty hard on a certain supersoldier, in case you were wondering.”

“Yeah, well, Steve is pretty cute I guess,” Bucky mused, ducking his head to hide the blush in his cheeks behind his hair. 

Bruce smiled. “Ask her out, Sergeant.”

Bucky delivered a Mocha Frappuccino to Darcy’s office that night and asked her to have dinner with him whenever she found the time. She blushed something fierce as she said yes, and Bucky committed the image to memory. 

A month later they were officially a couple, but with Darcy’s crazy workload and his looming trial they were taking things slow. He’d only kissed her goodnight a couple of times but he’d stopped resisting the urge he had to wrap Darcy up in his arms the second she was off the clock. 

He was indulging in said urge the night of the Asgardian farewell party - the Norwegian deal had gone through pretty quickly all things considered, and Thor and the last of the Asgardians were heading out to New Asgard in the morning - when Tony Stark made his trademarked grand entrance. He had barely taken two steps out of his latest Iron Man suit when he pointed a finger in their direction. 

“What’s the murderbot doing with his murderarm around my niece?” 

“I’m not your niece, Tony,” Darcy called over everyone else's scolding.

“What are you talking about? Bruce is your bio dad, I’m his science bro; you’re totally my science niece.”

Darcy giggled. “That’s not a thing, Tony. And to answer your totally offensive question; we’re dating.”

“No, I forbid it.”

“You don’t get to have an opinion.”

“Of course I do. Everyone loves hearing my opinions.”

“We really don’t,” Bucky heard Steve mutter into his beer. 

“I don’t want to hear them, Tony. I’m a big girl and I make my own choices.”

“You make terrible choices,” Tony mumbled petulantly. 

“I tell Pepper the same thing all the time,” she teased.

“How dare you!” Tony gasped, feigning offence. “Do I at least get to give the Russian menace the shovel talk?”

“No, no shovel talks. I don’t want you scaring him off.”

“If the Hulk didn’t scare me off, doll, nothing will.”

“Awww.” 

“That’s not the way I remember it,” Bruce chimed in.

“Shut up,” Bucky retorted over Bruce’s chuckles. “Besides, I already got the shovel talk from Valkyrie. She takes her role as angry-mom very seriously.”

“Who’s Valkyrie? Wait, did you say mom?!” Tony squawked, turning to demand answers from Bruce. 

“Hulk like angry girl,” Thor teased.

“Where is she? Is she here? I have to meet her.”

“Tony! Tony, stop. She went to New Asgard two days ago. No! Step away from the suit!”

As everyone one laughed at Bruce trying to keep Tony away from his suit Darcy leant in close, sending a shiver down Bucky’s spine as she whispered in his ear. 

“How about I say goodbye to Thor and you walk me back to my room, Sergeant?”

Bucky smiled. “Whatever you want, doll.”

[experimentalmadness]

Visitation

More Harvey Dent and OC nonsense featuring my trash-fire of a character, Jacky Ripley. This is still set prior to any villain shenanigans on Harvey’s part, but only just. Jacky tries to sneak into the hospital to see him after the attack, but things go...wrong.

No real warnings, but a content check that an unstable character does refer to herself in less than great mental health terms.

---

It was late. It was raining—as usual. And she was making stupid choices on purpose.

The hospital looked like something out of a nightmare. Stark, backlit with a glowing fluorescent from the ER  driveway. Jacky was soaked through her jeans and sweater. Her hair was plastered to her face even with the hoodie up.

Cop cars littered the parking lot, lights flaring without sirens making it look like even more surreal.

Jacky couldn’t feel her feet, couldn’t feel her legs. Didn’t really notice as she approached the building. She couldn’t go inside. That clarity kept her grounded in only mild stupidity instead of outright suicidal idiocy. Scaling a building at 1am in the rain was not her favorite task, but she had done it countless times before for work.

She’d have to mount the ledges and sidle along the entire circumference.

She couldn’t ask which room he was in.

Miri told her she shouldn’t go. Couldn’t go.

Gilda had left ten messages on her phone since last week.

Jacky, I know I can’t ask…

Jacky, he would want….

Jacky, please answer….

Jacky rushed over to the bushes to vomit. Hands and knees, stomach cramping so hard and so sudden her back arched in pain. Her throat burned, her eyes watered. It tasted like the bottle of whiskey she had downed in earnest. Funny, she didn’t feel drunk. She felt more sober than she had in her entire life.

Climbing the hospital felt even more impossible now with her limbs shaking every which way. She could barely see through the rain. Just as she was psyching herself up to make the first jump even thought she’d probably miss, fall, and break even bone in her stupid body; she was hoisted off the ground by one leg. With a grunt that gave way to a dull scream, Jacky went flying upwards through the rain, shooting straight up to the roof. She bobbed precariously over the edge of the building, headfirst. Her first thought was this was certainly odd, the second was that if she died right now it would be quick.

“I’m surprised it took this long for Moroni to send someone to finish the job,” a grating voice growled at her in the darkness.

“I...who…?” she couldn’t see through the rain and shadow, and being held upside down certainly did not help. “I don’t work for Moroni.”

Something pushed her, causing her to spin round, facing the skylights. “Falcone then.” A shadow moved past the lights, and the voice spoke with authority. Whoever it was it knew her old boss. Age-old reflex made her anxious until Jacky remembered everyone in Gotham knew her boss now, and knew exactly who she really was. Three months out of prison was not long enough for people to forget the Ripper case.

But whoever this was, was no cop.

Jacky had an inkling. It did not comfort her.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“The string of dismemberments at Flannigan’s begs to differ.”

How did he know about that? No one should know about that for the next five hours by her own calculations. She kept her mouth shut. He had no proof. Moroni’s men deserved it. She’d killed her career and put a price on her head in the same stroke, and she’d do it again. Jacky felt wild in a way she knew wasn’t the whiskey. She kept the crazy all shut in, but tonight it just had to come out. She’d made it hurt. She’d done it special; crazy only came out when Falcone wanted a message sent. This one was the first time she’d done a message all of her own.

“I wanted to see Harvey.” Crazy went right back into its box as she heard his name out of her own mouth, desperate, raspy, pathetic.

“Why?” The Batman jerked on the line keeping her suspended.

Because if she hadn’t told Harvey to stay away from her after her release from Blackgate she’d have known how in deep he was in going after Moroni. Because if she hadn’t bought into Harvey convincing her she still had a chance, that she could be a better woman, she wouldn’t have stopped working for Falcone and she could have heard about the hit. Because if she hadn’t lied in the first place she’d be a normal woman inside the hospital taking care of her friend. Because if she just had minded her own business the first day that stupid man had come into her shop she wouldn’t be here right now….

“I just wanna know how he is.”

“That line might have worked on the nurses, it won’t on me.”

“It’s the only line I got.”

Jacky was exhausted. She swung out and back from the roof to the abyss, her head going numb from being upside down so long. That was it then. Her grand plan to sneak into Harvey’s room, no muss no fuss, and back out was a bust. Batman didn’t make a move to haul in the line. She was sure he was going to drop her off in one of the cop cars below and tell the others to arrest her on trespassing, and hell, why not add murder to the list of offenses. No sense in being coy now.

“Is he dying?” Saying the fear out loud made her stomach cramp up again.

Silence from the Batman. He still thought she worked for Falcone. He still thought this was some play for ulterior information. He wasn’t going to believe her and he was right! He shouldn’t. She’d spent so much time lying and playing innocent shop girl no one should believe her ever again. And here was a fitting punishment. For the first time Jacky struggled on the line. The drop of crazy made her dizzy. It was only to be used for Miri’s sake, for the family, for money when she could make it work for them. “If he’s dying I just wanted to see him before...you don’t have to trust me. You can arrest me. I just need to know. Tell me...TELL ME, OR I’LL…”

“Or you’ll do what, Jacqueline?”

The sound of her full name gave her pause. Batman finally lowered her to the roof, cutting the cable and letting her fall in a shivering heap. She pulled herself to her feet, balling her cold hands into fists. “I’ll make it hurt.” Now that, assuredly, was the whiskey talking.

But it was going to hurt. She hoped it did. She deserved it.

Jacky winced when, instead of a punch, a hand descended on her shoulder. The strength of the grip was frightening. It rooted her in place, but offered no violence. “He’s not dying, Jacquline.”

“Oh, that’s good,” was all she managed before she burst into tears.

The hand on her shoulder was all that prevented her from giving way and sinking to the floor. Harvey wasn’t going to die. Things could still be okay. She’d be going back to Blackgate, but that was where she belonged anyway, no point in running from it. She could write to him in prison, but she wouldn’t. Because she was a coward in her core.

“S-sorry. Thank you. You can arrest me now,” she sniffed, straightening, looking up directly into the masked eyes of the Batman.

“Come with me.”

The hand never moved from her shoulder as she was shoved along. Batman booted open the roof access hatch and forced her down into the stairwell. Everything echoed inside. The rain falling off her clothes, her skin, plinking onto the metal stairs. The thick boots the Batman was wearing in lock step with her own, softer, sneakered tred. And he never said another word, just marched her down flight after flight. Around and around.

Back to prison. Miri would be so upset. She had forgiven her once, Jacky doubted she would a second time. She had tried to be a good sister, the little double act she had between their shared bakery and her night errands for Falcone had only been for her sake. But this city beat most people down eventually and Jacky knew at some point the killing hadn’t really ever been just a paycheck had it?

At least Gotham hadn’t claimed Harvey. It had tried. He’d still show them. That was enough to live with. She hoped Gilda would be alright. Maybe she could sneak one quick phone call to at least tell her how sorry she was she had stayed away. The DA and his wife shouldn’t be seen in the company of a convicted killer. She had just been trying to help. She’d only ever just wanted to help.

The white light of the hospital blinded Jacky for a moment, but Batman kept her moving. Nurses and doctors parted in quiet shock as they made their way through. No one was going to argue with the Batman, especially not when he was holding a perp. The brand of killers he brought in were on another level far beyond her. Maybe she should feel flattered. Mostly she just felt tired.

They stopped at a door, that grip tightening to levels that made Jacky grind her teeth. “If you try to make a break for the window,” he growled. “You’ll be caught before you hit the ground.”

“What?”

He opened the door, shoving her inside, releasing her. She could feel him still in the darkened room. This was not an arrest. There were no cops in here. Just the steady beep of a heart monitor and…

“Harvey?”

For a man who always made life feel so much larger than it actually was it was so much harder to see him lying in the small hospital bed than Jacky had anticipated. She waited for some trick from the Batman, turning back to face him. He only stood in the shadows, watching. She allowed herself to move towards the bed.

Gauze and mesh covered the left half of his face, his neck, and his arm. She knew the extent of the attack from the news. There would be scars. And that was the best news ever, because scars meant he’d be alive.

She jumped when he shifted on the bed. Jacky hadn’t counted on him being awake. She didn’t want him to see her! She backed up into the dark. “Jacky?”

His voice was not his own. Maybe the acid had damaged his vocal chords.

Caught, she stood in limbo between the bedside and the door. “Hey.”

“How did...you get...in?”

“Light breaking and entering. I...I didn’t mean to disturb you. I know I shouldn’t have come, but…” If she cried again, warning or no warning, she was going to throw herself out that window.

“Shut up,” he snapped, grabbing her hand. “I’m glad to...see...you.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I don’t think I can stay long, my escort won’t let me,” she gestured back to the moving shadows behind her. “But you’re gonna heal up fine.” This was the part where she was supposed to say she was grateful he wasn’t dying, or dead. Where she said because he was the most important friend in her life and losing him was unfathomable. But she didn’t.

“Doctors...won’t let me see. It’s...not good...is it?”

“Think how intimidating you’re gonna look in court. You’ll win by default.”

A gurgling, raspy, laugh was her only reward. “Think you can...stay?” His hand gripped her tighter and Jacky almost wanted to tear herself in half.

“Don’t think my escort is gonna let me, Harv. I...I did something bad tonight. I’ll probably be back in Blackgate by the time you get out of here. And I’m sorry. I let you down.” She could feel him staring at her. His one good eye, searching hers, that grip pulling her closer.

“What did you do?”

The grip on her hand turned into a claw, nails digging into flesh so hard it hurt. He didn’t sound angry, and she didn’t stop him. “Got some of Moroni’s guys. It was worse than what you brought me up for. I’m sorry, Harvey, but they deserved it. I only wanted—”

“Payback.”

The pain medication was what made him sound so cold. Just the drugs making him a little confused.  Even in the dark she could see the outline of a smile that was and was not his.

“Jacky, we always knew...there was a reason...we liked you.”

[lucastheunlucky]

Below my Feet Part II || Luke-Roland-Marley

In Continuation to Part I

Lucas was bleeding from multiple wounds. The crossbow bolts and lines carved in random throughout his torn clothes from the silver. Lucas had met Nicodemus’ eye and shared an exposed expression on his features. One that was tired, and one that seemed to trust the other to get answers. It was rare to feel a connection like this so fast, especially with another hunter-- but Luke felt it regardless. Maybe he was desperate, maybe he really did need more help. The truck which the fake hunters came in was a mess, billowing smoke, large dents, and anyone who hadn’t been scared to submission was running. Crossbows scattered the ground busted, Luke’s body a messy mixture of phased wolf that could pass as human-- but barely. His chest was heaving, hands bloody, dripping down on the asphalt as he stared out-- lost in his mind.The last few humans took off running as the sirens came up and Luke-- he was lost in his head. Standing still in the smoke.

Roland had raced over to the Dairy Queen as soon as the dispatcher radioed him the location. Outside of a robbery, Roland couldn’t quite imagine why anyone would go on a rampage through a Dairy Queen. Wasn’t ice cream supposed to make people happy? He liked sweets well enough, but he could live without all the showboating of flipping the blizzards upside down thing. It was definitely a chaotic scene when he arrived. Smoke could be seen rising from the building and glass was shattered all along the sidewalk. This seemed a little too messy to be an upfront robbery. With his gun out and ready, he cautiously approached the building. 

Lucas couldn’t understand this. The rage in him was a loud thrum in his belly, making his body groan and shift more lycan. His ribs collapsed and his organs shrunk to accommodate the change. The tank top he had on was barely attached, shredded from the sheer size of his initial phasing. Right now, it looked like he wasn’t in control, but that was far from the truth. His mind was swirling, not sure what to do with it all, how to stop this. When movement caught his eye, he didn’t turn around to face them at first. Listening to their cautious steps, and every instinct in him was ready to pounce if this was another wannabe hunter. “Stay. Back.” He warned, the tone disjointed from crowded fangs, and the meaty warning of a thunderous growl in his chest. 

Marley knew it was probably a bad idea going into the field, especially when the radioer used words like “aggressive” and “shots fired”, but she couldn’t help it. She knew whatever was causing this ruckus wasn’t human, and when she’d heard the Sarge’s voice on the other line saying he was headed there-- without backup, like an idiot-- she knew she had to go. Otherwise, they’d be down a Sergeant, again, and who knew what the next one would be like. That, and, well, her curiosity always got the better of her. It was easy enough to slip out-- since it was later at night, turning invisible was easy as pie, and she was on her way to the scene. She could see the billowing smoke before she even rounded the corner, and when she did, the destroyed building was a sight she hadn’t quite been prepared for. If her hunch was right, then those “shots fired” were likely from hunters. But no one else was on the scene yet, only Sarge’s hulking shadow as he approached the building, and someone else, hunched over, piercing gold eyes showing perfectly through the haze to Marley. Shit. She jumped from the car, gun at the ready, sunglasses off. This wasn’t going to be fun.

The sound of another car approaching and the subsequent footsteps that followed caused Roland to whip his head around. His brow furrowed as he realized it was Stryder approaching the scene, a very much not yet approved for field duty Stryder at that. While the scene was definitely something out of a nightmare and he could use the backup, he was frustrated that she was putting herself at risk like this when she was already injured. “Stryder, what the hell,” he harshly whispered, “You’re supposed to be on desk duty.” He peered back toward the building and saw the very large almost feral looking man standing just outside. It wouldn’t be smart to go at it alone and Stryder was the only other officer on the scene. “Fine,” he grumbled, “I could use the back up, but let me take the heat. We don’t need you being worse for wear because you’re on the field with a broken arm.” It wasn’t often he went against regulations, but if the man took him out Stryder would be left to deal with him alone.

Lucas wasn’t sure who was there, everything with the smoke was overlaid in muted tones, and darkness always pulled from the corners of his sight when he felt like he was on the verge of losing consciousness. It was taking everything in him not to fully phase, succumb to the bloodlust pulsing like wildfire in his veins, and making his throat thirst. Every wound on his body was overheated, the silver gashes had bubbled easily into tracks down his arms.. He turned, rising to his full height, a stretch of limbs and creak of bones that hung in the front of him, his fists curled, the smoke billowing between them. Two of them. Two more of them. His jaw tightened, a crunch of enamel that sent tension down his throat. Another growl rumbled up, “Come on then,” the words dark, angry, and so tired of all this. He didn't move, though-- not until he could see them better. “Come ON!” 

“Oh, and going into the field alone to arrest an aggressive perp is okay?” Marley grumbled, wondering if Sarge could see the red glow to her eyes through all haze, or if he, perhaps, was trying to explain it as some trick of the light. She fell in line behind him, however, as they spotted the figure, perfectly visible to Marley through the dim light. Fur sprouting from his skin in patches, an obvious attempt to keep control. Golden eyes like beacons through the smoke. Claws ragged like angry weapons. Marley stiffened. “Sarge, don’t,” she hissed quietly, trying to keep him from moving too close to this monstrosity. “Something’s not right here,” she muttered, hoping to get him to stop and look around. If she could just get close enough to make the wolf gaze into her eyes, it would be over in a second. All she needed was one second. “Where are the others?”

Roland let out an exasperated sigh. She wasn’t wrong, but the clock was ticking and it appeared everyone else was taking their time getting to the scene. “You make a point.” He didn’t like it, but she was right. His eyes scanned the roads and there was no sign of lights heading their way though it’d be hard to tell through the thick layer of smoke. Even Marley looked somewhat distorted through it and for a moment it, it almost looked like her eyes had been glowing. His head whipped back to the perpetrator who was all on growling at this point. What on earth was wrong with this man? Did he get bitten by a dog with rabies or something? Either way, they needed to exercise caution. While Roland didn’t like getting firearm heavy, he knew this man was aggressive and too large for him to physically take down. His grip around his gun tightened before Stryder caught his attention again. “You’re right, the man’s growling,” he said quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention in their direction. “I’ll radio and see where our back-up is.” He took a few paces back and spoke into his radio, “Stryder and I are on the scene. We need back up. Can I get an ETA?” 

Lucas’ ears twitched at the words easily heard, and suddenly everything clicked into place. His heart sank, deepily and realized with so much clarity that this had been the plan all along. These weren’t more fake paid hunters-- they were cops. He inhaled a shaky breath, deeply pulling it in, and held it with a close of his eyes. Would they shoot him up too? Did it even matter if he wasn’t in this state? The anger in his stomach coiled, hatred feeling like lashes against his back. Hasn’t he suffered enough? Was the edge there? When would he just step-- off. Lucas threw his head back and belted a powerful, screaming howl. The noise blasted through the parking lot, traveling miles down the road, and raked shivers down his arms. He dropped to his knees as the last ounce of breath came out of his lungs. Shapeshifting down, his hands curling into the asphalt, head bowed down as he trembled.

Shit. This wasn’t good. The howl pierced the air around them and Marley had to use her one free hand to clasp it over her ear, cringing at the pain in the other one shrugged to her shoulder. A shiver went up her spine-- was that fear? Who’s fear, though? It wasn’t like she was afraid. The dull ache in her stomach reminded her of her faults, but it was night and she was safe. Sarge, however, was not. “Sarge, move!” she shouted, even though the wolf hadn’t attacked yet. It was “hard to tell” through all this smoke and darkness. She stepped in front of him, preparing herself. If this didn’t work, the wolf would come for them, and while she could easily turn intangible, it would be Roland taking the brunt of the attack. She could only hope this would work. Animals felt fear, too, though, didn’t they? Isn’t that why they shirked from her? Why they hissed and growled and bit? Eyes glowing, piercing through the smoke, she turned her gaze to the wolf. “Easy there,” she said, holding her hand out, gun relaxed in her hands, “why don’t you just calm down and look at me.”

Roland never considered himself someone who startled easily. Being in his line of work, it wasn’t something that would be considered beneficial. Even so, he shuddered slightly at the sound of the howl ringing through the air. It sounded so… animalistic. His ears were ringing and his left hand instinctively went up to cover his ear and try to drown out some of the noise. He’d never heard anything quite like it from a human. His view of the man was distorted through the smoke, but it looked like he was down on the ground now. It was the perfect time to strike and get him in cuffs. That was, until Stryder demanded he moved and placed herself between him and the man. What was she doing? She was the one with the broken arm, he should be the one potentially tackling the perp. “Stryder, what are you doing,” he huffed, but watched closely as she slowly approached the man. Her voice was almost soothing and he thought maybe her tactic could work. If they could calm the suspect down, it’d be an easier ride to the station. 

Lucas looked up, and it was like everything he thought existed shifted the second his eyes met red. The person standing there didn’t make sense. Manifested from an old memory, the form of the hunter buried in all his nightmares. With a crooked bright smile, and a tilted white cowboy hat. But something was different, and Lucas was shocked still. The hunters face, which was usually blurry, wasn’t, and he knew it was because he saw Dr. Edwards. Those fractured memories no longer so lost. Lucas would always be powerless when it came to him, wouldn’t he? His hands curled, nails scratched into the asphalt with a screech as the edges of his vision darkened and his mind demanded him to disappear. His body already prepared for pain-- already conditioned to stay still. “Leave. Me. Alone,” his voice was rough with each word. Tears burned tracks down his cheeks silently. A roll of a snarl twitched his lips into a feral lift, unable to move, as fear from that gaze-- shackled his wrists. 

Marley held the wolf’s gaze as she pried into his vision. What would an animal see, other than a hunter? And-- Lynn? So he’d been fed from before. Not that it mattered. It didn’t matter how many times someone was fed from a mara, there was no escape. Never ending nightmares, so long as they wished it. True monsters, really. People cowered under the howl of a wolf or the teeth of a vampire, but they were nothing compared to fear incarnate, were they? Even they trembled under their gaze. She advanced slowly, making sure to keep her eyes on him. “I’m afraid we can’t do that,” she said lowly, her voice a mere growl, “not after what you’ve done here.” She didn’t turn to face Roland, only gestured for him to come over. “Should be safe now, Sarge,” she said, eyes focused on the wolf man in front of her.

None of this was making much sense to Roland. The man who once seemed ready to attack at any moment was now subdued and looking almost fearful under Stryder’s gaze. Sure, she could throw a pretty intimidating glare, but something about her seemed calm and surreal. His head shook and his eyes were blinking rapidly. This felt like something out of a dream and he couldn’t wrap his mind around how she was doing this. He was considerably impressed with how well she was able to diffuse the situation. His eyes were wide as he watched the man seemingly subdued on the ground. Now was the time to act and Stryder was confident that she had him under control. “Understood,” he said, as he grabbed the cuffs off his belt and ran toward the perpetrator. He was quick to bend down and get a cuff around one of his wrists and pulled an arm back to clasp another. There was still something almost wild about his mannerisms. It was off, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. He worked to slowly pull the man up from the ground so they could get him in the cruiser. 

Once Lucas was in the cruiser he laughed a small, broken sound. Lowering his head as the fear swirled in his mind, and toyed with memories he’s long buried for a reason. His mind felt like it was unraveling, a tether pulling on it, and Lucas couldn’t help but smile sadly at how fucking stupid he was. “He’s coming--” he whispered. ‘They are taking you to a new grave--’ he bitterly thought, ‘he’s exposing me.’ A demented, broken part of him wondered if the pack, though far from official, heard his howl-- knew, something was wrong and would come for him. Lucas smiled, the tears still there as his entire body convulsed, and wounds still spilled lines of blood. Exhausted from being attacked, and knowing this was far from over. The beast barely contained within this fragile appearing human visage leaned back, and closed his eyes. ‘Be ready-- Lucas.’