#personally i think they should step it up a notch and just have cloud himself start sobbing after his last convo with aerith

[willosword]

just realized we might get to see little baby cloud crying his eyes out in rebirth :(

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Sever (Ch6)

AO3

“Mind ye’ve got that meeting this afternoon?” Ian reminded him for the thousandth time as they all sat at the breakfast table and Jamie fought the urge not to roll his eyes, already mildly annoyed at the fact that his bowl of porridge wasn’t quite right. He should’ve made it himself without backing down when Jenny had insisted on doing it for him, that way it would’ve been thick enough to plaster a wall with, just how he liked it. But his sister would never surrender the spurtle, working it through the oats and milk until they became creamy and setting a large bowl of sugar on the table, much to Jamie’s distaste. Thick enough to clart a wall and with enough salt to make your eyes water, that was exactly how he’d had it since he was a bairn, their mother taking hers in the same way. Only Jenny and their father had preferred that their breakfast be covered in sugar and the sweetness of the Scottish strawberries that grew wild on Lallybroch estate.

“Aye, I ken fine well enough,” Jamie grunted without turning his eyes towards Ian who was trying to encourage a spoonful into Wee Ian’s mouth. “Whit was the name of the estate again?”

“’Tis the only estate in Tomich but did I no’ tell ye? He’s changed the meeting to the golf club.”

It had been his idea to begin with but now Jamie was uncertain about how their drunken plan was taking shape. After one too many whiskies of a night, he and Ian had been sprawled in front of the fire as they chastised the blend that they were imbibing, arrogantly announcing that the two of them could do much better. Jamie hadn’t thought anything of it as he’d stumbled to his bed and let sleep take him but a few days later he found himself mending a fence post in the back field as Ian continued his musing about Broch Mordha putting its stamp on the world as a new destination for a premier whisky distillery and the two of them, its innovative creators.

Jamie grunted as he rose to his feet and deposited his bowl into the deep sink, letting the tap run to soak the dish and refusing to turn his body to take in the picture perfect family scene that was sat at the kitchen table.

“Mr Dunsany—“

“He’s a Lord, is he no’?”

“Is there a reason yer being a particularly crabbit arse this morning, brother?” Jenny’s voice was dripping with irritation, not wanting her nice family breakfast to be ruined by the interminable grey cloud that had been brewing over Jamie’s head for the past few weeks.

“Jen, leave him be.”

“I will not. He’s been a moanin’ greetin’ face since he came back from that bloody reunion and ’tis hell time he snapped out of it,” she said a little louder to ensure that Jamie heard the emphasis that she placed on the insult as it flew from her mouth.

This caused him to turn on his heel and level his sister with a careful eye.

“I’m sorry, Janet, but sometimes I think ye forget that there is a world outside of Lallybroch. Life can be a damn sight more complicated than poppin’ out weans and tending tae chickens, ye ken.”

If her temper didn’t hit the roof, her eyebrows certainly made a good go of it. Silently, her fingers curled tightly around the spoon, stilling herself against the pull of Wee Ian’s chubby little hand that was fisted in the material of her shirt, demanding attention.

“I ken that fine well, James. But ye canna jus’ come home every time ye see her and sulk like a wee bairn that doesna get what he wants. Grow up a wee bit, aye?”

At the end of her parting shot, Jamie felt the anger licking at the sides of his throat. The rage that he’d been directing towards himself was now begging to be let loose on someone else, someone that would bite back and Christ, Jenny would do just that. It had been this way since he’d come home, the frustration melting into a sullenness that had punctured the idyllic bubble that the family lived in at Lallybroch. In his worst thoughts, he resented both his sister and his best friend and the happiness that they shared. Jamie loved them to their bones, of course he did, but after leaving Oxford with yet another memory of how he’d let Claire slip through his fingers, the last thing he wanted to see was the very evident love between Jenny and Ian and their three children.

And so he found himself, in a suit that was a bit tight across his shoulders but he’d purchased anyway in a department store on the Inverness High Street, shaking hands with Lord William Dunsany in the bar of a golf club that he’d never seen fit to frequent himself. Jamie tried his hardest not to let the glances from the club members get to him as they walked around the lounge with an understated belonging the he’d never feel himself. He made sure that he gave a strong handshake, looking the shorter man straight in the eye and made the informed decision to swap from his usual Scots to his best Received Pronunciation, assuming that Lord Dunsany was one of those people who claimed to be a ’Scotchman’ but was as English as they come with the age old story of inheriting Scottish land as a birthright. Jamie had realised, however, that the man certainly knew his whisky and would make a not-half-bad business partner with himself and Ian if he managed to convince him to part with some cash.

Jamie was fuzzy on the details of how’d they’d come to the agreement but two hours and four whiskies later, he found himself once more shaking hands with Dunsany. The Lord would foot the seed money in exchange for a fairly sizeable but not unfair amount of the business and as a personal favour, Jamie would escort his eldest daughter around Edinburgh the following evening.

“She’s up here with me to get away from some nonsense that’s gone on at home but she’s been cooped up in her hotel for days while her mother tries to organise a townhouse for her. I just want her to get out and see the city. Who better to show her around than a native?”

Late next afternoon, his slight hangover thankfully having subsided after a coffee and a square sausage roll, Jamie stepped off of the train and onto the platform of Waverley Station in the heart of Edinburgh.

The tang of the breweries immediately filled his nostrils and he breathed deeply as the ever present sound of bagpipes floated down from the upper level of the street. While Lallybroch where was his heart lived, and he loved the humour and familiarity of Glasgow, Edinburgh held a special place in his heart. He never got tired of grabbing a coffee and walking the length of George Street in the sun, the castle bursting into view if he turned his eyes to the east.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made his way towards the hotel that Dunsany had insisted on to putting him up in, the same one as his daughter just to make things simple. Although Jamie had spent many a morning diving into the spectacular breakfasts put on at one of his favourite places in Edinburgh, The Huxley, he had never imagined staying at The Caledonian that loomed over the small establishment just metres from its door.

Jamie didn’t quite know what to do as the doorman who was wearing a bloody top hat opened the door to the hotel for him so he settled on giving the man a polite smile, resisting an absurd urge to give him some type of formal bow. He had been in nice hotels before but nothing like this with its polished marble floor and a huge vases of fresh cut flowers on most surfaces that he could see.

“Mr Fraser, we have you in the Robert Louis Stevenson Suite for two nights. Here is your room key and it also includes the number for the Concierge, should you have any need. We have a table booked in the Peacock Alley bar for you and Miss Dunsany at 6pm this evening and I would be happy to make any dinner reservations you would like to make, within or outwith the hotel. Michael can get the rest of your bags from the car,” a neat blonde woman smiled at him from the reception desk as she inclined her head to the bellboy hovering at a polite distance over Jamie’s right shoulder.

“It’s nae bother, lass, I’ve only got the one bag,” Jamie muttered with a hint of embarrassment as he pulled the bag from the floor and swiped the keycards from the desk, smiling back at her. “Thank ye.”

When he stepped through the door that bore the name of one of Scotland’s most beloved authors, his growing Imposter Syndrome ramped up a few notches. Crossing the floor towards the window, Jamie was greeted by a beautiful view of the castle as it loomed over the city. He didn’t quite know how to act, having never been in such a large and clearly expensive hotel room. In fact, it wasn’t even a room, the woman at the desk had called it a suite.

Flicking through the TV channels for a little while, settling on the new show about Billy Connolly’s upbringing in Scotland, his fingers lazily scratched at the bare patch of skin just above his belt buckle. Something about being in a different city and having some time to himself made him feel lighter than he had in weeks and he gave himself permission to laugh at a particularly lewd joke that spilled from The Big Yin’s mouth on the TV.

Jamie’s phone, lying face up on the mattress beside his left shoulder, startled him as it gave a firm buzz. Sitting up, he opened the latest message from Geneva, telling him that she wanted to go out for dinner somewhere nice tonight. He was under no illusion as to the fact that when someone like Geneva Dunsany used the words ‘somewhere nice’, she was actually saying ‘somewhere expensive’. But thankfully, Jamie knew just the place and sent her a reply saying that he had it in hand before phoning down to the reception and having the helpful woman book a table at a restaurant he knew would be impressive enough but not so posh that he would feel out of his depth by eating there.

Although they’d messaged back and forth that afternoon, he hadn’t bothered to enlarge the tiny picture next to her name at the top of the screen. Toying with his phone, Jamie resolved that he had to know what the lass looked like, not wanting to have to shuffle embarrassingly around the bar trying to figure out who he was there to meet.

Her picture brought to its full size, he looked at her for the first time and tried was pleasantly surprised. She was clearly beautiful. Dark hair that flowed in loose waves over bare shoulders, her skin a beautiful olive brown from a summer tanning on a beach somewhere. She was looking at the camera dead on with a surety that came from a privileged upbringing, her face painted perfectly and a twist of the lips that couldn’t really be called a smile, as if she didn’t want to be seen to be having fun. She looked like every posh girl that Jamie had met in his life, every girl at university who would air kiss their friends on both cheeks while their manicured hands clutched at bags that cost more than his first car.

Suppressing a groan at the thought of spending a weekend with a person who no doubt came from an entirely separate world than the one he’d grown up in, Jamie divested himself of his socks as he plodded, bare feet on plush carpet, through to the bathroom to take a shower and clean himself up ahead of his evening.

Later, he sat at the bar, his fingers playing with the patterns on the cut crystal glass that housed his double whisky, he felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder.

“James Fraser?”

His stomach dropped into the floor.

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind at what hearing his name fall from the lips of an Englishwoman would do to him. He felt an absurd wave of revulsion swipe through him in an instant and he took a quick drink before turning on his stool to face her, swallowing the bile that had risen up in his throat.

“Och, lass, nobody really calls me James. Ye can call me Mac. ’Tis another one of my family names,” he tried to sound light and not as if the sounds of his name leaving her lips felt like the flesh on his back had been ripped open to the bone.

There was a reluctance in her eyes and he immediately knew that she was uncomfortable so he did his best to send her his most charming smile, gesturing for her to sit and then signalling to the bartender.

“What would ye like tae drink?”

“Martini, if you would, extra dry, extra dirty,” she ordered confidently as the bartender nodded and turned to begin preparing it for her.

With her chin in the air, she asked, “So, my father said you were a business associate?”

“Aye, I suppose I am now. My brother-in-law and myself wish to start our own whisky company. Your father has kindly offered to help.”

“My father isn’t generally in the habit of helping out of kindness.”

“Aye, well, hopefully he trusts that we ken what we’re doing. Or that we’ll figure it out at the very least,” Jamie tried to joke but she gave him nothing. There was something cold in her demeanour that he hoped he wouldn’t have to fight against for the whole evening.

After watching the martini disappear down Geneva’s throat in record time, he offered her an arm as they left the hotel and were hit by the cool air of Edinburgh in the evening. As soon as Jamie took the first step towards Princes Street, Geneva halted.

“We’re walking?”

“’Tis no’ far, only ten minutes or so. We have time before our reservation,” he replied, gently tugging on the arm that she’d looped through his so that she would begin to walk with him. Her feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete.

“These are £500 shoes, I’m not walking anywhere.”

“Lass, Edinburgh is a city tae get lost in. If we get a taxi we’ll just be looking at the sides of buses and traffic lights. Yer father asked me tae show ye the city,” letting her arm slip from his, Jamie took a step forward and gestured towards the castle, atmospherically lit from beneath now that the sun had gone down. He turned back to her with a kind smile and held out his hand. “Let me, aye?”

Reluctantly, she acquiesced and let him lead her away from the hotel. Jamie’s skin tingled at the contact and he realised that he hadn’t touched a woman apart from Jenny since the university reunion with Claire. He flexed his fingers experimentally and felt something swell in the pit of his stomach when Geneva tightened her grip in response.

The two of them made small talk as they walked through Princes Street gardens and up towards the restaurant, Geneva seeming happy enough with the venue that he’d chosen. He’d heard good things about The Witchery before and as they sat down at a table covered in a pristine white cloth, surrounded by painted dark wood on the walls and ceilings, he noticed how pretty Geneva looked in the candlelight. Only a fool would try to argue that she wasn’t beautiful. But there was a coldness to her that hadn’t warmed yet and so he kept on being as charming as he could, hoping that another glass of wine might bring down the steely demeanour that she seemed to hold on to for dear life.

Oxford had been full of girls like Geneva Dunsany. Wealthy, privileged and confident. After four years of university, Jamie had perfected the art of tuning out their inane conversation about which exotic place they’d spent their summer, who’s guestlist they’d been placed on for the weekend and what they were planning on wearing. So he knew how to respond to her constant stream of speech, nodding and agreeing in the right places and sending dazzling smiles across the table when he felt like rolling his eyes. Though somehow, he found that he didn’t actually dislike Geneva Dunsany. Something in her eyes, or maybe it was the way she chose her words, showed Jamie that the poor little rich girl personality was an act. Underneath the mask, she felt the same way that he did—unfathomably sad.

Something inside of him felt sorry for her, recognising the pain that he knew all too well in another. And while he didn’t particularly care for the woman, Jamie decided to be kind to her. He leaned closer across the table and started to respond to her stories with anecdotes of his own. With the help of another two martinis, she began to blossom in his company and the two shared a relatively pleasant evening together.

When they reached the hotel elevator, Jamie had nothing on his mind other than stripping off his constricting shirt and sleeping off the whisky cloud that was hanging somewhere around his temples.

“What’s on the agenda now, then?” Geneva asked as they stood side by side.

“Shower then bed, I think.”

“Sounds good to me,” she all but whispered, Jamie’s head twisting to see the dark look of seduction that was painted on her face. “Mind if I join you?”

He didn’t say no.

It was shocking how easily he slipped into the worst version of himself. There had been a few nights in the past where he’d spent too much time and money in the pub in Broch Mordha and woken up the morning with some woman curled around him at whatever bed and breakfast they’d invited him back to. He only ever slept with women who were in the area for the moment, never anyone who he’d run into again. It was always when he was half gone with drink, his body acting solely on blind need that he succumbed to his baser instincts.

The doors of the elevator opened and Geneva walked in purposefully, turning to look at him with an alluring smile. Jamie walked in beside her and pressed the number for her floor.

They found pleasure in each other’s bodies but it was skin deep at best. A simple matter of scratching an itch that they both clearly had and had resolved to using the other to sate that particular need. There were no delicate touches or gazes held for any real length of time. Jamie set himself to work, making sure that she got hers before followed suit. It was perfunctory. Pleasant. And when they both uttered their subdued sounds of fulfilment, Geneva immediately rolled away from him, shielding herself once more.

“Do ye want me to go?” Jamie’s voice broke through the dark silence of the room.

Her response was barely a whisper, “Please.”

He dressed quickly, roughly, and scrambled around in the dark for his phone that had fallen from his pocket. Geneva was lying as still as a statue but Jamie could hear the odd sniff from her and realised that she had begun to cry. After dithering between his options, his inherent gentlemanliness won out.

“Is there anything I can do?”

There was no response for a few seconds and he took that as his answer, beginning to move towards the door of the room when a single word stopped his hand from turning the doorknob.

“Stay.”

Keeping his eye on her as though she was a frightened animal that might bolt at any provocation, he slowly began to undress. When she moved over slightly to give him room to get under the covers, he did just that and felt a strange sense of kinship as she wrapped her body around his. Jamie held her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep in his arms. The sound of her gentle breathing was the only thing filling the room until his phone suddenly pinged with a notification.

Facebook Congratulate Claire Beauchamp on their engagement!

Before he could stop himself, he opened the app and looked at the posed photograph of the two of them, her left ring finger showing off an almost comically large diamond ring.

After telling our friends and family, we are so happy to announce that we are engaged! We thank everyone so far for their kind words and well wishes. From the future Mr and Mrs Frank Randall.

Every muscle on his body was thrumming with energy. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the energy was made from. Rage? Fear? Utter desolation? Whatever it was, it was coiling its way around his ribs, holding him in stasis and holding him hostage as he experienced it.

He wasn’t even considered a friend anymore, seeing as he hadn’t been given the privilege of a private message, having to find out through fucking Facebook. She had clearly changed in her time in Boston, the Claire he knew would never have given up her name and become Mrs Frank Randall. Randall-Beauchamp at the very least, for Christs sake.

Tasting the rare metallic nature of blood in his mouth, Jamie realised that he was biting the inside of his cheek. He felt the need to get up and do something, anything to expel the energy that was going to burst out of him if he didn’t channel it into something. But he was stilled by the feel of Geneva’s naked body against his and a rush of guilt tried to swallow him whole.

How dare he question Claire’s life, assume to know her situation all the while he was in bed with another woman. Reminding himself for the hundredth time that Claire had made her choice and it wasn’t him, he swallowed his pride and went to send her a message, even though he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

He shouldn’t have had that final whisky.

Jamie: Just seen the news. Congratulations to you and yours.

A blatant lie but what was he supposed to say?

To his surprise, her reply was almost immediate.

Claire: Thank you!

Short and to the point. Two words that would shut down any further conversation, a feigned attempt at excitement and gratitude that he prided himself on being able to see through.

He knew that he would have been one of many to send the same sentiment that day but he had kidded himself that his text would receive a more personalised response. Maybe all she thought of him was a copy and paste response as she planted her phone down screen first on the sofa before climbing into the arms of her future husband.

In an attempt to hold the tears at bay, Jamie curled an arm around Geneva’s prone body, bringing up his hands to his arm and pressing his palms into his eyes until he saw stars.

[yslkook]

#onboarding (1)

#corporate

summary: seokjin delivers some news to you that you were not ready to receive. or, jeon jungkook joins the company and you’re suddenly facing a part of your past that you hadn’t really wanted to.

word count: 1701

warnings: cursing, parental death

***

7:47 AM. Like clockwork, you always arrive in the parking lot at exactly 7:47 AM. It gives you enough time to brew yourself coffee in the lounge, set up your desk exactly the way you want it, and check your emails quickly.

It’s a ritual that you refuse to let go of, even after four years. You’ve been at the same company for the last four years, in the same position. You work in your company’s research and development organization, a group with thousands of individuals globally.

You are only a speck in the machine that was capitalism. As long as they were paying you, you didn’t mind. You had loans, bills, and your grandma to take care of.

Too bad they weren’t paying you enough. You had given nearly half a decade of your blood, sweat, tears, and time to this company and they had hardly raised your pay, hadn’t given you a promotion and had only just given you a portion of the bonus you deserved.

Without you, your boss and his boss would be six feet under and it’s a fact you never failed to complain to Seokjin about.

Which is what you were currently doing in the lounge.

Seokjin is your closest friend, outside of work and in work. Quite possibly, he’s your only friend. You had graduated in the same year from university, with the same major, the only difference was that he had finished graduate school and you hadn’t. 

Seokjin is an associate director in the regulatory area within the company. You work closely with his team and his peers on projects. Regulatory and clinical science goes hand in hand- they’re often the people who tell you and your teams to take it down a notch when you get too excited about something that may not be feasible.

You call him a stickler, and he tells you that your head is in the clouds. It’s all in good fun.

You were three rankings below Seokjin. It was something that you tried your best not to get upset about- you both had started at the same time and he has risen far faster than you had within the company. While you were stagnant. That might be in part due to your management. But still, you tried your best to remain happy for your closest friend. You can be happy for him and still wish death upon the antiquated patriarchal expectations that still thrived in capitalist culture, after all.

11:58 AM. You ping Seokjin, asking if he wants to have lunch with you so that you’re spared the annoyance of eating at your desk. Or even worse, of eating with your direct boss. 

Jin agrees quickly and you meet him at the top of the stairs to head down to the cafeteria together.

He stays in the cafeteria for a little longer than you- he ran into a few acquaintances and is chatting with them. You don’t wait up for him, instead paying for your food and finding a table to sit at.

You scroll on your phone for a few minutes, adjusting your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you wait for him to join you. He’s always been more keen than you to converse with people at work when he didn’t need to. It’s something he chastised you about frequently, about how you refused to network with the people around you.

You would always reply- “They can get to know me through my work. I’m not gonna blow air up their asses just so these fuckin’ airheads can feel good about themselves.”

He’d only look at you with that look, the look that stated that you’ve aged him a thousand years with one interaction. 

“Hey,” Seokjin says, sliding into his seat across from you, “I’m so hungry.”

“Surprised you didn’t bring lunch today,” You observe after you chew some rice and chicken.

“I forgot it at home,” He says sheepishly, “I meal prepped yesterday. God, now I want my actual lunch and not this.”

“Careful, someone might hear you and get upset.”

“Oh, I didn’t know how concerned you were over lunch today,” Seokjin scoffs.

“They might get upset that they don’t have Jin’s seal of approval.”

“They have Jin’s seal of approval, but my actual lunch does, too-”

“Don’t refer to yourself in the third person, weirdo,” You roll your eyes.

You both eat in silence for a few minutes, the call of hunger too intense to ignore. The food is good- the cafeteria at your company has been known for its tasty hot food and plentiful options. 

“Do you remember that kid from college? Jeon Jungkook?” Seokjin asks after a few minutes.

“Who?” You reply instantly, without baring the name a second thought.

The name sounds very familiar, and suddenly you recall where you know the name from. He was a sweet, smart kid. Maybe a little naive, but smart nonetheless. 

“Really? Your memory is that shitty?” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “He was your mentee in grad school, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember him. I was only his mentee for like seven months, that hardly counts. Before I left, I mean,” You murmur, picking at your food.

Jin notices your immediate change in demeanor, the way your face falls slightly at the mention of graduate school. You always get like this when talking about college in general, but Jin can’t blame you. He’s been trying to get you to open up about it, even though it had been nearly six years since you had to leave school abruptly.

He knows that there are layers of scar tissue below the surface. But he doesn’t know if you’re ready to face all of it.

“Jeon is starting here tomorrow. In regulatory,” Jin says breezily.

“You gonna be the kid’s boss?” You ask after a bite of chicken.

“Not directly. Namjoon will be, so you’ll be seeing him around often,” Jin says, “Think of it like a blast from the past.”

“Yeah,” You mutter, “That’s a blast from the past, alright.”

***

You feel unsettled the rest of the day, knowing that a sudden, unwelcome intrusion is about to become routine. Sudden change does not bode well with you and that’s a fact you’re willing to admit.

Jeon Jungkook.

You resist memories of him, of sitting with him in your favorite coffee shop for your biweekly mentoring sessions, of school, of classes, presentations, studying in the library, studying at home, home, home, home. You resist all of them, resisting the urge to succumb to any of it.

You can’t blame Jin for springing this on you. You know he wants you to try to move on. But you’ve been stuck. You’ve always been stuck. For five years, all you’ve done is be stuck.

All you’ve done is be running in place, going nowhere, with the memory of your father’s death haunting you behind your eyelids. 

It’s been five years, and somehow you’ve been living as a ghost for all of those years.

It doesn’t matter. Even if Jeon Jungkook was the representation of everything you had unsuccessfully run away from, it doesn’t matter.

***

Cold fury washes over you when you finally learn two days later that Jeon Jungkook is a fresh graduate who somehow landed a job that was two positions higher than you.

Sure, he had actually completed graduate school. He has the fuckin’ degree to prove his worth. And what do you have? Loans from a program you hadn’t even completed, a boss who seems to hate every fiber of your being, and shoulder pains. Lots and lots of shoulder pains.

You could scream. In fact you want to. Jin had avoided telling you what he was coming into the company as, knowing it would only incense you to this degree.

At the moment, you want to throttle Jin, too. You want to throttle every and any man who works at this company who had dared stepped on you in an attempt to gain the spotlight for themselves.

Someday, you’ll get back at them. Someday, you’ll be their superior and you’ll make them regret it. But today is not that day.

You dread running into Jeon Jungkook. You are so unbelievably envious of him, for being four or five years younger than you and securing his spot here at the company when you were still struggling. Namjoon had lots of connections, it was part of the reason that Jin had fought so hard to bring him into the company. Namjoon and Jin have the same boss and often work together. Truthfully, you work with Namjoon more than you work with Jin.

Namjoon had lots of connections, meaning that Jungkook would, too. 

When you finally do run into Jeon Jungkook, it’s by complete chance. You had been passing the regulatory area of your floor, since that’s where the printer was closest to. And you needed the walk, your muscles were screaming for it.

He’s standing tall, outside of Namjoon’s office as they both chat quietly amongst themselves. Namjoon suddenly excuses himself and disappears around the corner for a minute, and you wince, debating whether you should turn around or continue walking. Before you can turn your heel and avoid Jeon Jungkook, he turns his head and meets your eyes with a surprised look on his face.

You bite back your bark- “What? Are you surprised someone like me works here?”

But you reel it in.

He calls your name with a wave and you know you’re trapped. You give him a crisp smile and approach him warily, tightening your hold on the folders in your arms.

Jeon Jungkook looks exactly the same, and yet he looks worlds different.

“I didn’t know you worked here!” He chirps, “It’s been so long, how are you?”

“Yeah. Been here for four years. Five year anniversary is soon,” You reply, voice even and struggling to keep venom out of it, “Good. I’m good.”

Before he can ask you anymore questions, before you can see his bright, bunny smile dim with your cold response, you mutter an excuse and turn your heel to walk away from him.

You’ll just find a printer somewhere else, you suppose.

[mightydragoon]

Darth Vader A+ Parenting.

While Darth Vader in canon ain’t exactly the nicest fellow, this is a Vader or Anakin who has no qualms getting what he wants and using any methods to do so. 

Or otherwise known as Darth Vader A+ Parenting. 

1.  to gain a son Russy

After falling into a trap laid by the Empire and being captured by two Inquisitors, Luke Skywalker wakes up in an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar man watching over him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019218/chapters/60586045

2. No Time Like The Present PinkEasterEggs

In a Galaxy where Princess Leia Organa and Luke Vader have always known they were twins, a deadly discovery by their biggest enemy throws their entire lives upside down. Yet again.

Now on the run from the Empire, the Skywalker twins find it their mission to bring peace back to the Galaxy once more. And with Darth Vader on their trail, that mission is far more complicated than they originally believed.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754825/chapters/59851300

(Note* Part  3 of the  Back To The Future series. Can be read as standalone) 

  3.  The Heir - SpellCleaver

Darth Vader just killed his master and learned a galaxy-changing truth: the child Palpatine adopted, the Imperial prince and heir, is actually Vader’s son, raised by Palpatine to torment him.

Meanwhile, Luke Palpatine just woke up from severe injuries he sustained in a Rebel attack to a galaxy where his father is dead, he is the Emperor, and the figure from all his childhood nightmares is acting suspiciously nice.

They figure it out from there.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24024442/chapters/57801529

4. Eclipse - SpellCleaver

Luke and Leia, the twin children of Darth Vader and heirs to the Emperor himself, defect. When they do, it's naturally a dream come true for the Rebellion and the mother they never knew, one that's been a long time in the making.

But they have to get to that point first.

Or: Darth Vader unwittingly sends his children down the merry path of treason... and the ugly, painful fallout.

(Note* Obviously) 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18221840/chapters/43109123

5. Walking the Line Between - aradian_nights

After an emotional confrontation on Bespin, Luke Organa has been captured, and his newfound twin Leia Skywalker will not stop until she has rescued him. Even if that means murdering their own father.

( How the Other Half Lives  -   aradian_nights) 

(Note* the entire series is this but more in particular the recent additions, I’ve already discussed this story multiple times before so you know the drill )

6.  The kidnappings of a Sith Lord - maedre13

How a certain Sith Lord may or may not kidnap his rebel son. One-shots. Strongly inspired by sparklight´s “Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn´t Get Away”.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606992/chapters/23453241

(Note* not all these chapters are Vader at his worst but he isn’t exactly a top notch parent in them either) 

7. How to Save the World from its Heroes - stardustgirl

Being the Avatar’s—and Fire Lord’s—non-bending heir isn’t what Luke signed up for. He also didn’t sign up for an Agni Kai he can’t possibly win, or for getting dragged into a search for someone who can kill his own dad. Then again, someone has to bring the world back into balance, and if his dad won’t, then Luke might as well give it his best shot. After all, how much worse can things get?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24948487/chapters/60386875

(Note* Only started and already you can see Vader A+ Parenting in all its glory) 

8. your heart is full of stars and your hands full of shattered glass -victoriousscarf

Nineteen years ago, Vader took his children off Mustafar, and Palpatine raised them to be Sith, the perfect weapons he had been looking for.

Except the very eve of his greatest victory, the fully functional Death Star, Luke Skywalker defects to the floundering but growing Rebel Alliance. His sister follows because someone needs to watch out for that fool.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242183/chapters/30290415

9.  Love of a daughter. - youngjusticewriter

"and yet, so far at least we have yet to figure out what you gain from this." It's a question as well as statement. A chance to explain, to come clean on why she - a unknown Sith- had assassinated they're precious, beloved Chancellor (what fools). But how could you come clean when there is so much blood on her hands? Never-mind the sins and blood on Vader and Luke's when her family had been alive.

When she answers it's not because she's announcing her transgressions in hope that her heavy, dirty soul might be saved. One couldn't repent when they didn't feel guilt in their sin.

"For the love of a daughter." Leia pauses and looks back at Anakin and thinks: I did this to avenge you. After thinking that Leia says one more thing - the last thing actually because she nothing else to say after this.

"And you should have been more careful electing your Chancellor. You never know who is Sith." This has double meaning but she's the only person who knows it.

And she's fine with that (no, she isn't).

Leia wonders if her younger self and Luke will ever become the monsters like her Luke had been and the monster she is.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10924239/chapters/24297558

10.  Literal Hell - TreeOfTime

Luke Lars is content as a Moisture Farmer with his father and mother... until two people come to find what was lost to them...

Then all hell broke lose

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579066/chapters/53957833

(Note* oh dear lord Vader A+ Parenting in its full glory, a Sith Leia for flavour and a non force sensitive Luke. ) 

11.  Dynasty - Valerie_Vancollie: Co-authored by Rebecca Thomson aka Zekkers.

Hit in the leg by a stormtrooper's blaster bolt, Luke falls in the Death Star hanger bay and is unable to escape on the Falcon along with Han and Leia. During the subsequent interrogation, his true heritage is revealed and Vader instantly takes him to Coruscant, determined to reclaim the son the Jedi stole from him. But the glory of the Imperial capital belies its true nature, where politics and power are everything and anything is fair game in the never ending game to reach the top. Not lying, not betrayal, assassination, sabotage, blackmail, nor seduction. As he commences his Sith training, Luke must also learn the rules and etiquette of the Imperial Court if he is to survive as most of his enemies fight their battles with words and political maneuverings rather than military force. Yet, even as he struggles to gain his place within the Empire, Luke learns that his best friend has joined the Alliance...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13111908/chapters/29997507

12. Fractured twists - Annessarose

Timelines are fickle things.

Every line is balanced precariously on the precipice. One shift, one twitch of a finger, one step in the wrong direction, and entire stories change. Lives flicker out, galaxies rise and fall, but the Force is always a constant.

Each moment is carefully balanced. We know how the Siege of Mandalore happened - how the former Jedi padawan Ahsoka Tano led her men into victory. How she defeated Maul in single combat and earned the loyalty of Lady Bo-Katan Kyrze. How she rode her ship too late to meet with Anakin Skywalker, and how the galaxy fell and burned under the hand of the Sith.

This is the way it could have gone if Obi-Wan had followed Ahsoka to Mandalore.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158608

13. Runaway- Valerie_Vancollie

Co-authored by Rebecca Thomson aka Zekkers & a contest winner.

What if Luke had runaway from Tatooine and joined the Imperial Academy?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976095

14. A Mother's Decision - Valerie_Vancollie

What if Padmé had brought Luke to Vader when Luke was only nine months old?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915687

15. Descent into Darkness - Valerie_Vancollie

What if instead of waiting for Luke to come to him on Endor, Vader had gone for Luke and the others, capturing them while with the Ewoks?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12908223

16. Avenge and Conquer - arikylo

The Alliance has fallen into a very well laid trap and now Luke has no choice but to hand himself over to Vader. But what does the father have in store for the son? Can Luke handle the torture and the ruthless tactics of the Empire or will he be forced to surrender and embrace the dark side?

The struggle between the light and the dark is strenuous, relationships crumble and all is looking bleak for the Alliance.

Dark!AU set after ESB.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3058115/chapters/6639581

17. The Terrorist - Seasider

High above Bespin in Cloud City, Vader chooses not reveal his identity and instead uses deceit to trick Luke into surrendering. The Dark Lord has a lot on his agenda, so he entrusts the breaking of his son to an Imperial interrogator, unaware that the man has an agenda of his own: revenge.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810643/chapters/60006952

(Note* Dead Dove do not eat. Contains some reall fucked up shit) 

18. Consequences - treenahasthaal

An intense burst of light and a vicious blow to his left shoulder sent him spinning violently backward and he fell...

What if Luke hadn't made it off the Death Star immediately following Kenobi's death?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/809144/chapters/1527145

(Note* It’s also a boba fett/ luke) 

19. Instinct - treenahasthaal

There was something about the blond boy in the crowd of detainees that caught Commander Yarryn's attention. Something that pulled at his gut and told him there was more about this captive than met the eye. It was his duty to find out what it was the boy was hiding - and find it he would, for Yarryn was very good at his job.

12 weeks after the destruction of the Death Star.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185854/chapters/4785594

( Part 1 of the Invictus series) 

20. Child of Mine - Oneshotshipper

AU. Darth Vader discovers Leia at a young age. Barely managing to escape her father's clutches the first time, young Leia goes into hiding and becomes the Empire's most-wanted fugitive. If the second time comes, fate will not be as kind. Meanwhile, Darth Vader would tear apart the galaxy itself to possess and keep his child. The Dark Side seems to inevitably be the fate of the Skywalkers.

21. To Catch a Daughter, One must... - ftbprotocol

A variety of AU one-shots where in canon Leia stayed a secret, but in these stories did not. Because there needs to be more Leia and Vader fic!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173637/chapters/27632673

22.  Daughter Over The Son - Keetajet

Work is inspired by ftbprotocol's work "To Catch a Daughter, One must..."

The moment where Darth Vader did not save his son. Instead, he will have his daughter.

Leia's future went downhill the moment she felt her brother die on the second Death Star, leading to their capture on Endor. Only she, Han, and Chewie survived the failed ground assault and they were restrained and being held at gun point.

She has a bad feeling about this.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354183/chapters/61476130

23. Before the Emperor - SilverDaye

Luke is defeated and captured at Cloud City by Vader. He is then dragged before the Emperor. However Palpatine is dead. Luke's father is alive. And someone else holds the reigns to Vader and the Empire.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15950198/chapters/37196351

Tags- to help search for more

Darth Vader's A+ parenting

Dark Anakin Skywalker

Sith Luke Skywalker

Imperial Luke Skywalker

Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader

Leia Organa & Darth Vader

Bad Parent Darth Vader

[walkerwords]

“Ultimatum” Spencer Monroe x F!Reader

Request: from @thanossexual​  how do you feel about Spencer x Reader where Y/n puts him in his place. Like when he tries to rebel she shuts his shit down. she understands his frustrations though because he lost everyone so she reassures him and tells him to give Rick and his group one more chance

Word Count: 1603

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Don’t Blame Me” by Taylor Swift

Note: Short little thing that was requested by Dori. For future Spencer stories I may need to go rewatch his episodes to get his character right :) Also I kind of made the reader a bit cold, but I do like the way this turned out. 

--------

Spencer Monroe was seeing red. 

Entering his home, he paced around the living room, trying to calm down, but the rage remained simmering in his chest. His whole family was gone and it was all their fault, it was Rick’s fault.

If they had never come to Alexandria, there would have never been so much death. His father was dead, his brother was dead, and now his mother. He still couldn’t get the image of her walking around, her white eyes glazed over as the virus raged through her undead body. For so long, he had accepted that they were untouchable within the walls of their sanctuary. Now, he wasn’t so sure, especially with men like Rick Grimes. 

With a shout of rage, Spencer went to the desk in the corner and opened the second drawer on the left. When he found it empty, he froze. 

“Looking for this?” you said from behind him. Spencer whirled around to see you leaning in the entranceway, his gun dangling from your hand. 

“Give it to me,” he said, stepping forward, but you shook your head, placing it behind your back. 

“No,” you said, standing your ground. 

“(Y/N)…” he said, already too tired for an argument. You, however, were as alert as can be and ready to take him down a few notches. 

“Are you going to kill Rick?” you asked calmly. 

“I’m thinking about it,” Spencer said, annoyed. He never got angry with you. Even if he felt it bubbling up inside him, he went outside and took it out on the wall or just ended up internalizing it fully. You were the opposite. When you were pissed, you tended to either go kill the Dead or take it out on anyone who lit your flame. You weren’t proud of it, but you had survived this long without having to be nice all the time. 

However, the way your boyfriend was acting right now was going to get him killed. “Baby,” you began, “I love you, you know I do, but you are being a complete moron right now.” 

“Excuse me?” he asked, taken aback. 

“If you go after Grimes, if you try to shoot him, you will be dead before you can even pull the damn trigger. Daryl will have a bolt between your eyes in a matter of seconds or Carol will try to take your head off with a spoon. Hell, I bet that kid of his would gut you without even thinking. Not gonna lie, Carl scares the shit out of me and I’m not too proud to admit that.”

“He killed my mother,” Spencer argued. 

“No, he didn’t. Deanna died from a Walker. This world killed her,” you reminded him. Spencer scoffed at your use of the colloquialism used by the “invaders”. 

“God, you even sound like them,” Spencer said in annoyance. “Calling them ‘Walkers’, what the hell does that even mean?”

“I thought it was pretty self-explanatory…” you said under your breath, but he wasn’t listening. 

“If these people had never come here…”

“Then the Walkers in the quarry would have. You saw it the same day I did, Spencer. Those trucks were not going to hold. I have seen large herds since the start of this, but I have never seen anything remotely close to that monstrosity. We are lucky that Grimes was here to help us!” “You’re taking his side!” he bellowed. 

“Stop it!” you countered. “There are no sides, Spence. We need to survive and whether you liked it or not, Rick Grimes is the best at it. I have been on the outside, I have seen what happens when people are not strong enough. I was almost like those people until I finally learned the rules of the new world. You know that I care about you, but you need to start learning them too.”

“My family was alive before they got here, (Y/N),” he reminded you.

“What happened to your father was tragic,” you said softer this time, remembering when Pete had killed Reg. “I am so sorry about him and your mother. Then with what happened to Aidan...it was horrible, but we both know that he shouldn’t have been out there. None of you should be out there when you don’t want to acknowledge how the new world works. We are no longer at the top of the food chain, the Dead are. It is their world and we just have to live in it.” 

Spencer stared at you and you watched as the fire slowly faded from his eyes. You began to relax a bit more. Though, you knew he wasn’t done. “What do you expect me to do, (Y/N)?”

“I want you to try,” you nearly begged. “You don’t like Rick? Fine. How about Glenn or Maggie? Hell, even Daryl, though I am pretty sure he wants to punch you in the face, so maybe not. Just try.”

“And if I don’t?” he challenged, crossing his arms. 

“Then,” you paused, trying to get your nerve, “then, I’m done. I’ll move into one of the vacant houses and you and I will be finished.” 

“What? Why?” he asked, completely struck.

“Because you are letting your emotions cloud your judgment! This world is not so fucking simple anymore, Spencer. I have been trying for months to make you all see the new world and you have refused to listen to me. What do you think is going to happen? Do you think that one day everything is going to magically revert back to normal?” 

“Of course not!”

“Then why won’t you acknowledge it? Please, Spencer,” you said as you went to him, dropping the empty gun on the table. You took his hands in yours, unfolding his arms. “I need you to start understanding where I am coming from because I will not lose you. I’ve already lost enough.” Spencer held your hands back, keeping firm pressure. He looked down into your eyes and his shoulders dropped fully. 

“I didn’t know you felt this way,” Spencer said. 

“You never asked,” you pointed out, lifting one of your hands to rest against his neck. You had met Spencer when Eric had dragged your half dead body through the gates of Alexandria five months before. A group had robbed you and left you without food or water for days and you were desperate for help. When Eric had found you, he hadn’t hesitated to help. It was shortly after that when Spencer introduced himself and there was something about him that just clicked with you. 

However, while you knew that there was that connection, you also knew that you couldn’t just sink into the relationship without keeping your reservations. No matter how you felt about Spencer, there was always one person you had to care about above all else and that was yourself.

You had lost too much, seen too much death, and fought too hard to not fight for your own survival. You were now only hoping that he would fight to survive alongside you. 

Spencer leaned into you, feeling the firm pressure of your hand against his neck. Your eyes were locked together as you urged him to see what you were thinking and feeling at that moment. With a sigh, Spencer covered your hand with his. “Can I have my gun back, please?” he asked. 

“Are you going to talk to Rick?” you asked. 

“I can start with Maggie,” he compromised. 

“Good,” you said as you turned to pick up the gun and pressed it into his hand. A sort of peace offering. You leaned up and kissed him softly, feeling the stubble on his cheek scratch against your own. 

“Were you really going to leave me?” Spencer asked when you pulled back. 

“I told you when we met that I wasn’t going to let this world beat me, Spence. I meant it,” you said.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” he asked, cupping your face with his calloused hands. You could feel the bump that was on his finger where he rested it against the trigger of his rifle. 

“I don’t know, but that is how I feel and I promised I would always be honest with you,” you said. 

“I don’t like ultimatums,” he said. 

“Don’t think of it as one. It’s a necessity. Either get along with the people who will fight to survive or be willing to die alone,” you said and you knew it sounded cold, but he needed to hear it. Spencer Monroe wasn’t a man who needed to be coddled, he responded well to the truth and you were willing to be the sounding board for that. 

“(Y/N)…,” he started.

“I promised my mom that I wasn’t going to be weak and I stand by that,” you reminded him. 

“Which is why I love you,” he said easily. 

“Then try to understand me. Hear me,” you nearly begged.

“I do, and I am going to try. I promise,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I don’t expect you to be Van Helsing, but try to see it through my eyes,” you said. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he promised. 

“Thank you.”

“I love you so much,” Spencer said. 

“I love you, too,” you said as you pulled him in for another kiss, finally feeling like the two of you were getting somewhere. You didn’t always see eye to eye, but perhaps now a compromise could be made. When he pulled back again, he was grinning. “What?” you asked him. 

“Van Helsing hunted vampires,” he whispered. 

“Oh, shut up.”

@thanossexual​ @yes-sir-hotchner​  @felicisimor @lucillethings​

[akitokihojo]

Delicate - Chapter 1

Here we go. Another story. A coming of age one, this time around. I’ve been grinding away at this for a little while now and it’s grown to be near and dear to my heart. I hope you enjoy! Please be warned that while I’m conscious of them being teenagers, there is some mention of underaged drinking. It’s just barely touched on, but I wanted to put it out there for those that aren’t down for that sort of thing.

----------

Kagome's eyes were focused on the horrible design of the party invitation in her hand, clearly created in a word document with clip art that definitely should have been forgone as she and her best friend made their way down the busy school corridor. She honestly couldn't tell if the ugly layout was intentional for the humor of it, or if they actually thought it was clever and unique. The host was that kind of guy; hard to read and artistic in his own particular sort of flare. She trusted Sango to guide her toward their usual spot for lunch, folding the invitation evenly to stick into her bag when she bumped into the shoulder of someone going in the opposite direction.

He'd stopped momentarily as she reactively gave a gasp, looking up to see bright, golden irises staring down at her. 

"Sorry." Kagome breathed.

"Watch where you're going." The boy grunted, giving a lazy roll of his eyes as he stepped away, his arm better-angled so it merely rubbed against her sleeve so as not to offend her shoulder again.

"You should have been the one to apologize, stupid mutt." Koga had pushed off from the wall he'd been propped against, his tone low but challenging, bringing out a subtle eye roll from Kagome. The matter was hardly a bid deal to her, as surprised as she was to have received any ounce of attitude. For some reason, her friend was always one for dramatic attempts at heroism for any female that seemed disrespected. Unfortunately, his version of saving the day involved offensive name-calling, one-upping, pride-dwindling, and indirect threats. The cockshow was unnecessary, and she’d politely told him before she didn’t need any protecting from him.

Steadily, without missing a beat, the silver-haired boy did a one-eighty on his heel, his expression flat aside from an arched eyebrow. Both of his fists were held up at about waist level as he extended the middle fingers on each in Koga's direction. With his next step, he spun right back around, continuing on his path like he hadn’t responded at all.

"Hard to take you seriously with ears like a -"

"Give and receive, Koga." Sango snickered, cutting him off before he could potentially make anything worse with his competitive nature. "You can't punk someone and not expect to get the same in return."

"You're seriously sticking up for that guy when he walked right into Kagome?" The wolf demon asked, crossing the hallway over to them.

"Technically, I walked right into him." Kagome corrected with a whimsical shrug. "You should really be yelling at me. Go on, let me have it. I can take it."

Koga rolled his blue eyes, the hint of aggravation still curving his brow. "He's a dick, anyway. Deserves it.”

"Funny. I didn't hear him call you a mutt." Sango replied, cocking her head to the side.

"Why - are you - sticking up - for him?" Koga inquired once more, the perplexity growing more and more evident in his expression.

"Because - we know - how you are." Sango echoed his tone, not even bothering to hide her amusement, especially as Kagome giggled at her side.

"Alright, whatever, Sesame Street gang. Go promote proper manners somewhere else. See if I ever say anything for you again." He huffed, shaking his head and turning to walk back to his two friends stationed where he was parked when this all began. After two steps, he spun around, walking backwards as the rest of the hall parted and moved around him like he was king of the school. "But, you're okay right, Kagome?"

"Never better." She laughed, heading off with Sango. Before they turned the corner, Kagome's brown eyes glanced down the hall, following the direction of the boy she'd bumped into. He'd already disappeared, heading off to wherever his destination may have been.

For the remainder of the day, his glowing eyes had been etched into her memory, seemingly trying to stay forever by creating a permanent indentation. They were passionate on their own, and she could only imagine how ferocious they would appear had he backed up his stare with any expression. She'd noticed him several times around the courtyard since he'd shown up at their school, unthinkably attracted to him. It was, of course, a tenuous attraction. He was cute. His hair was long and a gorgeous, light shade, tied at the crown of his head - sometimes sloppily and sometimes with a little more effort. Either way, the look suited him well. He let his tie hang a little looser than was average, and the top couple of buttons at the collar always stayed open. He rarely left his sleeves down, rolling them up to his elbows to expose his forearms, and that was probably what she'd appreciated most. Until now. From afar, she'd never really caught the tint of his eyes, nor had she paid close attention. If he were to have caught her staring, Kagome would have been mortified. So, she kept her glances brief and nonchalant, only gathering the obvious and superficial aspects to admire.

She didn't even know his name, so she really didn't like to classify whatever she felt as a crush. They'd never had an actual conversation, meaning she didn't know a single detail of his personality, so how could it be reasonable to classify the baby flutter in her belly as feelings of any degree? But hours passed and all she could think of were his amber eyes. They held depth. They held an untamed fire. And she could already tell, she was in for it.

Kagome grabbed her belongings from her locker, pulling her long, black hair free from the strap of her book bag that hung over her shoulder. She still had to go pick up her younger brother from his soccer practice before she could head home, and his practice had a tendency to run late when they were nearing a game. With a dragged sigh, she headed toward the exit, her sights focused on the rays of sunshine on the cement outside that were being pushed away, hidden behind patches of clouds that clearly had an agenda of their own. Rain wasn't supposed to hit until later that night, and she could only hope the forecast held true.

She jerked to a quick stop at the edge of the wall of lockers when she detected a body just an inch or so to the side of her, the guy, himself, stopping abruptly to avoid the collision. Kagome looked up, spotting the boy from earlier, his expression pressed into one of annoyance as he peered down at her.

"Try looking up for once, airhead." He remarked, his voice pleasantly husky.

"Ah, sorry." Kagome grimaced, shifting into an awkward smile. "At least I caught myself that time."

He said nothing in reply, only gesturing for her to continue on out before him with a notch of his head and a quick flick of his eyes. She took a few steps, but they were mindful, not separating too far from him as he followed behind. 

"Hey, uh, sorry about earlier. When I walked into you.”

"It's fine." He said, hardly sparing her a glance.

"I just kind of feel bad about it."

That time, he looked, furrowing his brow quizzically. He slowed to a stop just outside the building, bringing her to do the same as she turned to fully face him. "It was the most minor of minor offenses, and you feel bad?"

"You'd be surprised how heavily my conscience weighs on me." Kagome said playfully, shrugging. "Not to mention, my clumsiness led to Koga's input. So, yeah. Sorry about that, too."

"Why are you apologizing for him?"

"Because I think it's fair to say you and I both know he won't do it himself. And, like I said, it was kind of my fault."

"The shit your boyfriend says doesn't bother me any." 

"Boyfriend?" Kagome recoiled slightly, the grimace hard to keep from her face. "Oh, no. No, no. No, he’s not my boyfriend."

He didn't say anything, merely giving a slow and steady nod as he pinched his lips into a straight line. “Okay.”

"Anyway, I'm Kagome." She watched him raise his brows, giving another deliberately slow nod, making no motion to verbally respond. That wasn't going to dissuade her from persisting just a little further, though. "And, I'd really like for you to tell me your name, because the one I've got is the one Koga used, and I just don't think it suits you."

"Well, jokes on you, because my name really is Stupid Mutt." He smirked, cocking his head minutely. Long, silver strands leaned with his angle from behind his head, and though her eyes were pulled in their direction, they quickly flickered back up to meet his golden stare.

"Wow. Your parents really didn't give you a fighting chance, did they?"

He chuckled, and god, it was hard not to smile widely just from the sound, nor the way he shook his head and glanced to the ground for the briefest of moments before looking back at her. "Nothing shakes you, does it?"

Kagome feigned a grimace as she shook her head to say "no," her grin taking over at the tail end.

“Fine. It's Inuyasha."

“See, that’s much better.” She stepped back, noticing Sango approaching from the side, her smile never fading as she softly dragged her teeth over the plush of her bottom lip. "See you around, Inuyasha."

Kagome appreciated the way her best friend kept her mouth shut, merely giving a friendly smile toward Inuyasha when they passed and continued together toward the school’s exit. Once they were out of view, that was when Sango quirked her way. It was eventually expected. She’d kept her cool longer than usual.

"Mind if I ask what the heck that was all about?" Sango's tone was playful, but still presented a hint of seriousness; meaning, Kagome better cough up some juicy details of their conversation.

"I was just apologizing for what had happened in the hall today." She replied, poorly holding back her laugh.

"Uh, bull. I know the signs of flirty Kagome. She doesn't come out to play very often, but when she does -"

"Excuse me, I was not flirting!"

"Then, what was that!?" Sango pressed, jaw hanging agape as she gestured back towards the school.

"That was a conversation."

"Well, if that's the case, we’re conversing. You should be biting your lip and making baby doll eyes at me, too."

"I would, but then you'd fall in love with me." Kagome shrugged jokingly. 

"That's a horrible defense, Kay."

"Yeah, okay, whatever, I was flirting. But, it was justified! It wasn't flirting to flirt, it was more like I was just trying to soften him up around the edges. The guy's pretty standoffish."

"And cute." Sango added. "And he's got the attitude of a bad boy. Is this it? Is this what you’re into? Ladies and gentleman, I think we've finally found her weakness!" She raised her hands triumphantly, as if surrounded by a crowd of cheerers. 

"Weakness!? Hardly!"

"Oh, please! We've got Hojo, a major goodie two shoes, and we've got Koga, the jock. Neither of which have ever blown your skirt up - metaphorically speaking, of course."

"Find a new metaphor, please."

"All I'm saying is, everyone's got a cup of tea, and yours is laced with dismissive grunts and hanyou blood. Nothing wrong with that!”

Kagome sighed out exasperatedly, aiming it upward so the puff of air would ruffle her fringe.

"Alright, I'll stop." Sango drawled, smiling happily since Kagome hadn't denied the attraction. "So, what's his name?"

"Inuyasha." Kagome had to actively fight off the mild flutter in her abdomen, keeping her expression as straight as possible, sans the very small upward curve of her lips.

“And, is he as grumpy as he seems?"

"Kind of, but we didn't really talk all that much. I don't feel like he's all that bad, though."

"Maybe he's not." Sango shrugged. "Maybe he just keeps to himself at first, but then grows more comfortable the better he knows someone. Gotta start chipping away somehow, right?"

Kagome bobbed her head back and forth, understanding the point of view. "I'm more surprised that you have nothing against me liking him."

"Nothing's even happened for me to disapprove of. Give me a week, I'm sure I'll find something." She laughed, giving a half spin as she headed down her side of the fork in the road, walking backward as she wrapped up their conversation. "See you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Bye." Kagome shook her head, her laugh silent but the evidence there as she continued along to her younger brother's practice.

—

She resented every single meteorologist in existence for their fifty-fifty forecast predicting skills, even more so now than ever because they said the storm would last three days, three days, and then they were in the clear for the remainder of the week. The blanket of dark clouds had parted, the puddles had mostly evaporated away, and the sun was shining nice and bright this afternoon. Kagome even noticed the twinkle of the stars above as she and Sango arrived at their friend's party. After leaving, calling it a night and parting ways, the stars were sheathed and she heard the distant rumble of thunder growing ominously close. She was nearly halfway home when it boomed over head, scaring the wits out of her before the clouds dumped a downpour on her naively-unsuspecting head.

She ran for it, her shoes clapping along the soaked cement, her exposed legs chilled and wet, her only haven being the nearby building with enough roof overhang to keep her dry until the worst of the storm passed. As soon as she was covered, Kagome pushed her damp hair from her face, raking the frizzy strands to hold behind her ears while she accepted there was nothing at all that could be done for her bangs that she could already feel curling. Her chest heaved up and down from how fast she'd sprinted from her starting point to here, watching how heavily drops fell from the sky in the gleam from a lamppost a yard or so away.

Heaving a sigh, Kagome fought the shiver from the moisture seeping through her sleeves, instead deciding to move about so she didn't turn into a ball of cold in the meantime. She wasn't surprised to see no one around with the hour and weather being what they were, the night calm and peaceful. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, the smell of rain was always one of her favorites, and she took in a deep inhale as she walked the length of the sheathing she protected herself under. Her purse, strapped across her shoulder, bounced against her side on beat with her stride, and she debated reaching in for her cell and calling her mom to come get her. She knew her mom wouldn't mind. She knew her mom would probably prefer to come pick her up than have her waiting a storm out alone. She just couldn't bring herself to do it. Her mom often worked late, and though she had the night off, she didn't want to chance waking her up just to come get her because she didn't want to walk a few blocks in the rain.

In fact, the thought of potentially waking her up if she was actually in bed was enough to make her realize that her position wasn't so bad. She would manage just fine, even if she arrived home soaking wet.

Kagome continued to follow the length of the building until she reached a corner, mindlessly curving when she felt like she'd walked into a moving wall. Hands quickly snatched her arms to steady her as she stumbled to the side. She looked up, slightly shocked, to see a scowl of irritation swiftly deadpan.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" Inuyasha asked, dropping his hold on her. He watched her smile grow, almost bashfully at first, cheeks holding a slight sheen from the dampness of the rain. She slowly opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to the chase. "Yeah, yeah, you're sorry, I know. What are you doing out so late?"

"I could ask the same for you." Kagome replied, cocking a brow.

"I was out for a walk when it started raining." He answered, eyes observing her attire. She wore a floral dress topped with a thin, black cardigan; more casual-looking than fancy. "Were you at a party?"

"Yeah. It got a bit too rowdy for my liking, though, so I left."

"Where's that friend you're always with?"

"Sango? She went home, too."

"Did you guys not leave together?" His tone held the hint of skepticism.

"Well, we did but we live in different directions."

"Why didn't you just go home with her?" Inuyasha had furrowed his brows, and Kagome couldn't tell if he was confused, concerned, or just nosy. She felt asking him why would only disperse the expression entirely, putting him on the defense for reacting any certain way. That wasn’t necessary. Quite frankly, she found the look endearing on him. He didn't seem as infamously grouchy as his reputation perceived.

"Whenever I stay out late, my mom likes to physically see I'm home when she gets up in the morning. She doesn't check my room or anything to see that I'm there, but there are signs I know she looks for. Like, my keys hanging on the wall or my shoes in the entry. She checks those before she checks her phone for messages, and the last thing I'd want to do is give her a heart attack." She responded, leaning back against the wall. It took viable effort not to tense and arch away from the cold, damp cloth of her cardigan being pressed into the skin of her upper back, and she could only wish for the round of applause she deserved for successfully playing it off.

"You were better off going with your friend." The half demon gave a small, disapproving shake of his head, crossing his arms over his chest. She cocked her head to the side, face twisting expectantly as she awaited his explanation. "You reek of alcohol. I don't know your mom, but I'm pretty sure she'd be upset if you came home drunk."

"But, I'm not - I had like a sip of Sango's - Oh!" As soon as the realization hit her, Kagome did such a dramatic eye roll that her head lolled along with it. She grabbed the bottom hem of her dress with one hand, her icy fingers stinging the side of her thigh as she looked at the fortunately stain-free cloth. "This Miroku guy was trying way too hard to impress Sango, and he spilled his drink down my leg."

Inuyasha rolled his own eyes, more in exasperation than anything, leaning his shoulder against the wall next to her. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"You know him?"

"Unfortunately. Before you ask, yes, he's naturally a mess."

Kagome laughed, stepping forward to stick her hands out into the pouring rain, collecting droplets in her palms and rubbing them together to rinse her hands of the offending smell Miroku's choice of hard liquor might possibly leave behind. Wiping her hands off on the front of her dress, she turned back to Inuyasha, noticing the dark hues developing just below his right eye. She couldn't help the way her concern suddenly began to bubble, bringing her toward him as she studied the mark, now finally seeing the thin scabbing adorning the side of his cheekbone, too. He didn't seem comfortable with her close proximity. No, he definitely wasn't. Though his stance hadn't moved from one shoulder being propped against the wall, he almost seemed to tense, broadening slightly, and if he had to, he would have shifted away. She stopped, leaving space between them, wanting to reach up and touch the scratch to see if it was still bleeding, the heavy shadows of where they stood making it hard for her to tell, but she refrained. It was like she had to remind herself that they hardly knew each other. 

"What happened?" Her voice was small, soft, inviting.

"Nothing." Inuyasha gave a dismissive, hardly-there shrug.

"But, your eye. I'm sure you didn't do that to yourself."

"It's always like that." He dismissed again.

It was easy to determine he didn't want to talk about it, but the darkening black eye was unsettling to her in more ways than one. She didn't want to push him. It wasn't her place. But, she was worried. Kagome parted her mouth to ask a question, swallowed it, pursed her lips only to try and ask again, the words hitching on her tongue because she didn't know how to properly phrase it. Inuyasha shifted his attention to the side, turning to lean his back against the wall, arms still crossed and the look of sheer disinterest in his eyes.

"Can you just answer me this: Did that happen at home or -"

"Oh my god, Kagome. No." Inuyasha interjected sternly, his tone almost surprising her. "I got into a fight."

"A fight? Why? What happened?” Her distress for his situation was vivid, her dark eyes growing wider, and the half demon was becoming more and more agitated. His adrenaline had already been soaring before he'd ran into her, still seething from the very recent incident, and it was more willpower than he'd ever wanted to put forth in the moment to swallow his anger to appear normal and composed in front of the girl. Now, she was sticking her nose where it didn't belong and he only had so many buttons left to push.

"Hey, do me a favor, sense the tone." He warned, still exhibiting control. Her face dropped slightly, plush lips sitting apart, but he could tell the subject wasn't entirely dropped for her. “Jesus, mind your business."

She bit her lip, physically restraining from prodding for more information. She felt like she’d already crossed the line, though her questions were all in good conduct. At least in her eyes. Her intention hadn’t been to pry, Kagome was just a naturally compassionate person. Sometimes, abundantly so. The air surrounding them was stiff and uncomfortable, which was the exact opposite of what she’d meant for, and once again she had to remind herself that they hardly knew a thing about each other. This was personal for him. He didn't have to share a single thing with her, no matter how much she didn't like it, and she didn’t have the right to be offended.

It was weird to notice that he didn't particularly enjoy the natural pout that formed on her face, her eyes shying to the ground and away as she fiddled with her fingernails. He guessed she was nervous or uncomfortable. Typically, he didn't give a shit if he'd made someone feel that way, so what was so different here? Kagome was just another bothersome person, meddling, too friendly, and probably used to getting her way. His assumption wasn't gut-rooted, though. And, her discomfort increased his own. And, while he'd generally take himself out of a situation like this by literally walking away, a betraying twinge in his abdomen told him to fix it.

But, he walked away anyway, tucking his fists into his sweater pockets with a heavy huff. It felt wrong. It felt so wrong. And, it bothered him that it felt wrong, because it should have been wrong that it felt wrong.

Abruptly, Inuyasha stopped walking, spinning around on his heel to see her tucking herself into her stupid, tiny sweater that was more for design than warmth. She didn't look so pouty anymore. More like a dash of irritation had thrown her chemistry off. He wanted to ask what her problem was, but the sudden thought of offense on her face halted his tongue. What the fuck was his deal?

"Come on." He groaned begrudgingly, swallowing his pride, impressing even himself in the moment. "Which way do you live? I'll walk you home."

Kagome's expression softened a bit when she saw he hadn't gotten very far. "You don't have to do that. I can handle my own."

"I didn't ask if I could, I asked which direction you lived in. I'm not gonna leave you here."

“But, it's not that far."

"Then, it'll be a quick walk."

“And, it's still raining."

"I don't think that's stopping anytime soon."

"Inuyasha."

"Kagome." 

He'd mocked her tone, and she pinched her lips into a line as she fought off the small grin that threatened to throw off her disposition. One of the pointed ears atop his head, the dead giveaway of who he was whenever her eyes wandered about the school grounds for him, the signature of his half demon status, had given a minuscule twitch as she'd said his name. What it meant, she had no clue. But, she liked it. And, if he knew she did, it was almost safe to assume he'd probably huff and puff and stomp his way home.

She could tell by the way he stood there and raised his brows expectantly that he wasn't budging. He wasn't just offering for the sole purpose of being nice - if that was his intention at all. He seemed resolute on his decision, no matter the motive. It was hard to get a proper read on the guy. One second, he was distant, the next he's semi-talkative, then he's mad, then he's decently kind.

Reluctantly, Kagome pushed all thoughts to the back of her mind for the moment, giving in with a sighed "okay." Pointing in the direction behind him, she sauntered over and passed by to lead the way.

“And, what’s with the toddler’s sweater!?” Inuyasha suddenly barked. Kagome turned around, almost getting whiplash by his igniting temper, completely perplexed, following the point of his finger down to her cardigan. “It doesn’t even cover your entire arms!”

“It’s cute!”

“It’s impractical!” His attitude was irrational and he knew, inadvertently bringing him to vehemently unzip his own sweater and shrug it off his shoulders. “Girls shouldn’t be allowed to dress themselves! Guys always have to give up their clothes because your lot cant be bothered to wear a fucking jacket!”

“I don’t want your sweater!” She argued, just as he balled up the fabric and deposited it into her hold with way more force than what was necessary. “Hey, I don’t want it! Take your stupid sweater back!”

“Just shut up and put it on! You’re gonna get sick!”

“A little rain never hurt anybody!”

“Oh yeah?” Inuyasha challenged, a mocking smirk on his face. “Then why are you hiding from it?”

Kagome’s lips sealed, cheeks puffing out when her inability to come up with a response peeved her pride. With an annoyed huff, she unfurled his sweater, spitefully shoving her arms through the large, baggy sleeves. “In my defense, I had no idea it was going to rain.”

“How? I bet with the hair you’ve got, all you gotta do is stick your head out the window for about thirty seconds to get the forecast. If you come back in with a lion’s mane, you can expect rain at some point.”

Her jaw dropped at the jab, her hands flying up to smooth down her frizzy hair. “It was a clear sky earlier, you jerk! At least my hair isn’t grey like an eighty year-old!”

“This is the color I was born with!”

“Okay, Benjamin Button!”

“Zip up the jacket and let's go!”

Kagome grumbled, keeping her sassy remarks beneath her breath as she reached down toward her mid thighs to connect the zipper and drag it all the way up. “Happy? But don’t you blame me if you get sick.”

“I’m a demon, I don’t get sick.” He rolled his amber eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, his white shirt dirty from the scuffle he’d gotten into. If she’d noticed, which it was hard not to and was the main reason he wore the sweater in the first place, she didn’t say anything.

She scoffed, dramatically so, walking ahead and into the rain. “Oh, please. Demons always say that to seem superior to the common cold, but all you guys are is less susceptible to catching it. You know what else you are?”

“Stupid for doing anything nice for you?”

“Yes, but also,” Kagome turned around, smiling as if she had the upper hand. “You’re half demon. Which makes your chances of getting sick only slightly less likely than your average human.”

Inuyasha ground his teeth, clenching his sigh in his throat. She was cheeky and irritating, and she was only sweet on the surface. Once you scrape off that thin, flavorless topping, you get this mouthy girl who didn’t know when to back down. So, why did his temper quell so easily? And, why did he have to pinch back his grin? Why was he beginning to feel comfortable and why did he not want to question anything more? It was more natural for him to play the skeptic, doubt everyone and everything, yet seeing her in his sweater, the way it didn’t fit her but somewhat protected her from the elements, the way the night lit up with lightning and her face beamed from excitement, the way her dark hair curled with the falling water, and the way her smile did something for him completely dismissed everything that should have been, the only cohesive and formulated thought left over being, fuck.

The hanyou moved his feet, grabbing the bunched fabric of the hood at the back of her neck and dragging it over her head as he kept walking in the direction she pointed, and she giggled, stumbling forward from his yank to keep pace with him.

“Okay, it’s this one.” Kagome said almost breathlessly, shoving them both beneath the very small sheathing her roof provided at the doorstep. The rain had begun to pour harder a little ways back and she and Inuyasha had been forced to pick up their speed. Her escort was soaked to the bone, his white shirt now mostly sheer on his skin, loose strands of hair from his ponytail clinging to his neck. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem bothered in the least. “Did you want to come in? I can make you tea, and bury you in towels while you wait out the storm.”

“It’s fine.” He insisted, shaking his head. It was genuine.

“Do you live far?”

“Not really.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in? We’ve got a cat! He’s fat and warm! And, I can throw your clothes in the dryer!”

Kagome’s breath hitched as he grinned at her, seeing something in his eyes. Something she knew was going to really solidify the hues burning into her mind. Like the radiant, golden innards of an ember played the role of charring everything else she could possible think about to make it so she could only see what was looking back at her now. He seemed soft in that moment. He wasn’t just the rough exterior he presented to the world. Beneath the layers, there was more.

“Tell you what, you can do something nice for me later.”

Accepting his compromise, she unzipped his sweater, peeling it off to hand over. The half demon didn’t bother attempting to put the drenched item on; he merely threw it over his shoulder and waltzed back into the rain. “I owe you one. I’ll make sure I have tissues on Monday in case you come to school sick.”

“You’ve always got something the say.” Inuyasha drawled, not even bothering to look back at her as he mindlessly waved her away with a flick of his hand.

| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

[sign-from-god-complex]

Warmth

Summary: Despite the reality of it, the room didn’t feel empty. It felt soft—hazy and warm like a mug of hot chocolate or a sleepy summer morning or like Emile. It felt like the air around them was filled with sunbeams or cotton wool or a slow but sweet grin. It felt like love. And Remy was drowning in it.

Pairing: Remile (with background familial sleepxiety)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“One, two, three. One, two, three,” Remy murmured under their breath, hands held out in front of them as they twirled around the room.

It wasn’t graceful—their footwork was sloppy and every so often they’d miss a step before taking a breath and starting again—but they were learning. They couldn’t expect to be perfect immediately! Or at least that’s what Emile would tell them anyway.

The music faded out slowly and Remy dropped their arms, heaving out a sigh. Quickly going to check their phone, which was still plugged in to the speakers, they noted it was only 4:30—plenty of time left to practise before they were expected home.

“Rem?”

“Milly!” Remy yelled, scrambling to pause the music which—as they’d set it to loop—was just beginning to start up again, “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

In response, Emile giggled and Remy tried to ignore how it made their chest feel like it was filled with helium or rays of sunlight or cotton candy fluff.

“I was just about to pick up Pat and Ro from rehearsals!” he replied, pacing his way forward into the room. He glanced around, taking in the mostly empty space filled only with mirrors and the sound of Remy’s heart beating out of their chest, “I heard the sound of Disney and I couldn’t help but come and investigate. Was that Someday My Prince Will Come from Snow White?”

Remy scratched at the back of their neck for a moment.  “A version of, yeah.”

They’d actually searched for ages to find an instrumental recording where it didn’t cut out or slow down too much to get in the way of their practice. In the end, they’d just had Virgil cut it for them in some audio editing software. Thankfully, he agreed to do them a favour without asking what they needed it for; they aren’t entirely sure they could have handled the embarrassment.

“What are you doing in here?”

Emile’s tone was slightly baffled but his expression more curious than anything. Honestly, sometimes he reminded Remy too much of Logan which, if you knew how close the four of them were brought up, wasn’t really very strange at all.

(Of course, that wasn’t taking into account the fact that Logan was entirely spoken for and, regardless, Logan didn’t have that delightful sparkle in his eyes when they walked through the park together, chattering about nothing and everything all at once. He didn’t have that look of absolute wonder when he glanced up at Remy, his lips parted and his eyes wide and just crinkled at the corners like he was barely holding back a laugh.

He doesn’t dance around the kitchen, singing and giggling to music playing from his phone; he doesn’t pull Remy into the pool when they refuse to get in, complaining about their hair getting ruined; he doesn’t make Remy’s stomach flip and their cheeks heat and cause their smooth demeanour to abandon them.

So, maybe Emile wasn’t that much like Logan at all.)

They ducked their head, feeling Emile’s gaze on them as they moved to pick up their jacket from the ground. “Uhh… Practising.”

“Practising?” Emile parroted, grabbing Remy’s water bottle from the floor in front of him before handing it to them—Remy just hoped their face wasn’t as red as it felt, “For what?”

“Prom, actually,” they admitted.

They weren’t entirely sure what expression it was that flit across Emile’s face but it barely lasted a moment before his features were set into a look of mild surprise—fake, Remy suspected; sometimes they wondered if Patton was a bad influence on him.

“Oh! I thought you said you weren’t going to prom.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to but Virgil called me a chicken and basically blackmailed me into it. Babes, I swear, that little shit can be so sneaky when he wants to be.”

“What do you mean?”

Remy sighed, running their hand through their hair and immediately regretting it as they realised they were still slightly sweaty from their dancing. Probably should take a shower when they get home. “Uh, just that he knows there’s someone I wanted to ask.”

“Oh.”

Emile stopped in his tracks, blinking a few times before turning up his smile a few notches too bright. There was no crinkling at the corners of his eyes, no glitter in his gaze and it made something in Remy’s chest tighten.

“I, uh- I just remembered I have to go pick up Pat and Roman! They’re probably waiting for me. I’ll see you at school tomorrow, yeah?”

Remy barely had time to reply in the affirmative before he disappeared around the corner, practically leaving an Emile-shaped dust cloud in his wake.

“Well, that can’t be good,” Remy mumbled before resigning themself to finding their own way home.

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

The next few weeks saw Remy back in the studio, wishing that they had a partner to practise with. They had very briefly considered asking one of the kids to help them out but Patton had no idea how to dance, Roman was far too much drama and Logan almost certainly would refuse to agree—and dancing with their brother was absolutely a last resort.

Thus, here they were again, partnerless and only feeling slightly less ridiculous about it than they had been to begin with.

Pressing play on the recording, the speakers dragged out the opening bars to Once Upon A Dream, maybe not quite as smoothly as if Remy had left the intro in but they didn’t quite have the patience to sit through 8 something bars of useless instrumental.

It had turned out that Virgil had been entirely too aware of why Remy had needed the recording and, when they’d come to him to ask for help again, told them, “if you need any more disgustingly sappy music to pine to then you’re gonna edit it yourself”. As such, maybe the recording wasn’t quite the quality Virgil could have provided but considering it was only to practise anyway, Remy wasn’t actually too worried about it.

They hummed along softly as the music filled the room, their eyes falling closed as they lost themself for a moment—their head only filled with scraps of conversations, half-formed daydreams and the exact colour of the blush on Emile’s cheeks when they’d told him how much the skirt he’d worn today suited him.

“You’ll love me at once, the way you did once, upon a dream,” Remy sang quietly, their voice barely a whisper in the emptiness around them.

It didn’t feel empty, though. It felt soft—hazy and warm like a mug of hot chocolate or a sleepy summer morning or like Emile. It felt like the air around them was filled with sunbeams or cotton wool or a slow but sweet grin. It felt like love. And Remy was drowning in it.

As the song came to a close, Remy’s motions slowed to a stop. For a moment, they just stood there; their eyes closed as they took their time coming back to their surroundings. Once it registered that they’d managed to run through the entire song without screwing up they beamed—breathless and so proud.

It definitely didn’t mean that this journey was over but they were well on their way.

As Remy was preparing to restart the music, they heard a quiet gasp from the doorway—soft and awed and shocked all at once. They spun around, barely catching a glimpse of a skirt whipping out of sight—in fact, the exact same skirt Emile had been wearing earlier that day.

“Emile?” they called out, half-jogging their way over, “Are you there, babes?”

Their heart was bouncing up and down in their chest, hoping—hoping—that Emile would finally provide them with a good chance to ask him out. He’d been suspiciously absent recently, ducking out for homework more often or claiming overtime at work and they were trying really hard not to worry about what that might mean.

Virgil had been entirely unhelpful in this matter. Really, Remy would have thought Virgil could be a little more sympathetic towards potentially unfounded anxieties but he just kept pressuring them to tell him their “feelings” or whatever. It was getting a little bit exhausting.

Unfortunately for Remy, there was no sign of him; the corridor void of any life that wasn’t simply their own echoing breaths. Resigning themself to the belief that they had only seen what they wanted to see—that it was nothing more than one of the younger kids, surprised to find someone in the practise room and running out of sight before the person inside could identify them—they sighed and began to gather up their things. 

They weren’t really in the mood to dance anymore.

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

Things between the two of them had been weird. 

Remy had managed to pinpoint the origin to about a week or so ago, around the time Emile had caught them dancing for the first time. They didn’t want to admit that that was the reason that Emile was avoiding them now, was cutting himself off mid-thought and not smiling that smile that made Remy’s insides light up like a supernova. Because acknowledging that would mean acknowledging other things—acknowledging that maybe Remy was the only one pining, acknowledging that maybe Emile was uncomfortable with their affections, acknowledging that maybe Remy had ruined everything.

And they didn’t think they could do that.

They had skipped practising for the last few days, feeling like it wasn’t really worth it if there was no chance that they’d be able to go to prom anyway. Plus, Virgil’s needling had really started to get on their nerves—always going on about when they were going to finally ask Emile out—so they’d just told him they changed their mind. In response, he’d just sighed, giving Remy a look they didn’t quite understand but they think may have been disappointment. 

They didn’t blame him; they were pretty disappointed in themself as well.

Today, though, they’d come back. They weren’t sure why. Nothing about this day was different than the last ones had been—sympathetic looks from their friends, stilted conversations and awkward silences—but, for some reason, they’d just felt like they’d needed to.

They’d come to really enjoy dancing over the months they’d been doing it and if they couldn’t find a way to express their emotions through that, they weren’t sure they were going to express them at all. And Emile had always told them bottling things up was unhealthy (though, if you asked them, that had always felt slightly hypocritical).

It was unexpected, maybe, but Remy had long since stopped worrying about what was expected of them.

After scrolling through their music library for a moment, Remy pushed play, locking their phone and coming to stand more in the centre of the room. There were a few bars of pure instrumental—they hadn’t ever thought this was a song they’d have to worry about cutting—but after a few moments, the vocals streamed in.

When somebody loved me, everything was beautiful.

Every hour spent together lives within my heart.

And when she was sad, I was there to dry her tears.

And when she was happy, so was I.

When she loved me.

Remy closed their eyes, spinning in place a few times and just letting the music wash over them. Then, they began to move, slowly and fluidly, showing off for themself just a little. They needed to feel like it was worth it—like all those days they’d spent in this very room, letting themself just be vulnerable hadn’t simply gone to waste.

Through the summer and the fall, we had each other, that was all.

Just she and I together, like it was meant to be.

“And when she was lonely, I was there to comfort her,” Remy sang, the words wavering slightly, “And I knew that he lov-”

Voice breaking, they folded over, hands gripping their thighs and just breathing as the music played on in the background. Their eyes were stinging and the crack in their chest only seemed to widen with every word so they moved to turn the music off, taking something of a steadying breath once silence filled the air again.

“This is stupid,” they muttered, rubbing at their eyes to remove any evidence of their breakdown, “What am I doing?”

“I thought it was amazing.”

Remy’s head shot up, staring at Emile in the doorway with a look of mild horror—though, for his part, Emile didn’t seem to notice.

Slowly, he walked up to them, so close that Remy could lean forward and bump into his chest and despite the fact that their brain was telling them to run as far away as possible, they were completely frozen to the spot. And as Emile gave a small smile, Remy wondered vaguely if it was possible to actually die from just being way too gay.

(They then realised if it was possible to die from being too gay Roman would absolutely have gone first, so they were probably safe.)

“May I make a song suggestion?” He asked, voice soft and just brushing up against their skin.

It took a moment too long for them to register that was a question—something Remy would entirely blame on Emile’s proximity and the fact that they were kind of a gay disaster—but they nodded, letting Emile pluck their cellphone right out of their hands.

It only took a moment of searching before music started flooding out of the speakers and it took Remy less time than that, after the music began, to place it. They refused to close their eyes, not when Emile was standing in front of them looking like that—like fond and soft and sweet and like maybe all this worry was for nothing because he looked a little bit like love too.

“All those days, watching from the windows. All those years, outside looking in. All that time, never even knowing just how blind I've been.”

Emile’s voice was soft and rich and warm and Remy couldn’t help but be reminded again of hot chocolates and sleepy summer mornings and the culmination of every conversation the two of them had ever had. His eyes traced their face with each line he sung and Remy was sure it was bright red but they didn’t feel as if they could be blamed at all.

“Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight. Now I'm here, suddenly I see. Standing here, it's, oh, so clear, I'm where I'm meant to be.”

With a grin—and still singing softly into the space between them—Emile took a step back and offered them his hand. There was almost no hesitation in their reply, grabbing his palm and letting him pull them out further into the room and then tighter against his chest.

“And at last, I see the light and it's like the fog has lifted. And at last, I see the light and it's like the sky is new. And it's warm and real and bright and the world has somehow shifted.”

Remy could hear his heartbeat from where they were tucked into his arms but they pulled away slightly—enough to grab his hands and begin to guide them around the room.

“All at once, everything looks different. Now that I see you.”

There was a moment of silence between the pair, blanketed in the music and Remy’s gentle touch keeping them moving across the floor. Emile’s ballroom dancing lessons from years prior seemed to have kicked back in and though he let Remy lead, he certainly wasn’t stepping on anyone’s toes.

He was avoiding their eyes, though. And Remy knew that fear—even if they’d like to pretend that they didn’t—so they took a deep breath. And they sang.

“All those days, chasing down a daydream. All those years, living in a blur. All that time, never truly seeing things the way they were.”

Truly, Remy didn’t know why Emile was so shocked. Yes, they’d never been particularly open with their emotions but they were so gone on him and they had never been good at hiding it. Years and years and years and years, Remy had been pining after him—long before there was even a him to pine over, long before Remy had even known what pining was.

It was always Emile. Always.

“Now he's here, shining in the starlight. Now he's here, suddenly I know. If he's here, it's crystal clear, I'm where I'm meant to go.”

They hadn’t been entirely sure that the change in pronouns would be audible enough over the sound of the speakers but as Remy watched Emile drop his head with a smile, cheeks stained red, they were glad they had taken the chance.

“And at last, I see the light and it's like the fog has lifted. And at last, I see the light and it's like the sky is new. And it's warm and real and bright and the world has somehow shifted.”

Their voices melded together, like a tapestry woven with two different threads—circling around each other and weaving in and out but never straying too far.

It was even better than Remy had imagined it to be. It felt so easy—like they were dancing with a sprite or a fairy, something magical that fit perfectly in time with them, except also knowing it could be no one but Emile. He was in every sense they had, overwhelming them almost but in a way that they’d gladly experience for the rest of their life.

“All at once, everything is different, now that I see you.”

Gradually, Remy slowed them to a stop, migrating their hands down to rest on Emile’s hips and watching him blush.

“Now that I see you.”

And with the end of the song fading out came silence, filling up the air in a much more comfortable manner than they had been afforded the last few weeks. Though there was no longer anything to dance to, neither of them moved—neither of them felt they could move, lest they disrupt this sense of calm that had settled.

In the end, Remy caved first, sighing ever so softly. “We should probably head out, doll.”

Emile ducked his head, chewing at the inside of his lip. Remy didn’t move their hands, not wanting to depart just yet, despite their words.

“I’m sorry,” Emile breathed out, honest and remorseful, “I’ve been really silly these past couple days.”

Remy shrugged. “It’s okay, hon, I-”

“No, it- it’s not,” he interrupted, eyes meeting Remy’s for the first time since the silence had been broken. They were almost teary and Remy just barely resisted the urge to reach up to cradle his face in their hands, wiping away any that manage to leak out. “I’ve been so cold to you and all because I was- was jealous! It’s so stupid!”

“Jealous? Darling, there ain’t nobody to be jealous of.” 

Emile scowled and even though Remy could tell it wasn’t directed at them they still felt their chest ache. “Well, I know that now.”

“And what are you gonna do with that information, huh, babe?”

Remy had entirely meant to add an “s” to the end of babe, they just… hadn’t quite managed to get it out of their mouth. So as it was they just watched as Emile’s eyes widened slightly and his cheeks flushed even more and, Jesus, if Remy didn’t get to kiss him soon they were almost certain they were going to die.

It seemed as if Emile was on the same page because, with nothing more than a gentle head tilt and an answering nod from Remy, he leaned in and up, pressing their lips together.

It wasn’t a long kiss; it wasn’t a deep kiss; it was simple, soft and sweet and it was everything Remy had dreamed of and more. Their hands slid up from Emile’s waist to cup his cheek and rest on his shoulder, guiding him gently and feeling the warmth of his skin beneath their hand. 

They drew away after a few moments but not too far—resting their forehead against Emile’s and unable to take their gaze away from the crinkles around his eyes and the sparkle that was staring straight at them.

“Hey, Remy?” Emile asked, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin, “D’you wanna go to prom with me?”

Remy beamed. “Honey, I would love nothing more.”

Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @camcam774 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @sanders-and-sides @spirits-in-my-thoughts @kee-and-co @primaryyblogg @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @goodandbadisallmadeupnonsense @localtransgrape @fandomsofrandom @gattonero17 @airiervessel @ollyollyoxinfree 

[blissedoutphil]

Dan The Personal Assistant Part 11

Dan has to submit an application video to be an assistant for a company President, Mr. Lester. But what happens when he accidentally sends a wrong video?

4759 words of Dom!Phil, sub!dan, buttplug, cock cage, blowjob, exhibitionism/in public, angst

~Part 10~

~Part 12~

or read on ao3!

Dan slowly stirred awake, his senses following suit as he felt warmth press up against his back, and scruff grazing his shoulder. He sighed softly as his mind connected the sensations to Phil placing lazy kisses on his shoulder, his stubble scratching against his smooth upper arm. He stretched a little, and Phil took the opportunity to kiss down the top of his shoulders to his neck.

“Good mornin’,” Phil said in a gruff voice, lips moving against Dan’s skin as he spoke.

Dan managed to croak out a response, blushing at how silly he thought he sounded compared to how absolutely sexy his boss’s morning voice was.

“We’re gonna have fun today,” his boss said decidedly, sending a tingle of excitement down Dan’s spine.

He turned around to face Phil, still somewhat surprised when he was met with those green-blue eyes mere inches away from him.

Phil took his time letting his gaze roam over his boy’s sleepy face. He’d known his boy was pretty since he first saw the video that started all this, but he felt like he’d never got to fully appreciate him until he started waking up next to him everyday. It was a good move to get a room with just one bed after all. He smiled a little thinking back to when he was worrying if Dan wouldn’t be comfortable with it. As it turned out Dan didn’t even question it, and it felt like second nature to sleep with each other. His smile faded a bit when he realised that once this trip ends, he’d be going back to sleeping alone in his empty house.

Dan returned Phil’s soft smile, feeling his cheeks warm a bit under Phil’s gaze. He wondered what Phil was thinking about, but he didn’t want to break the peaceful silence between them.

The longing gaze seemed to disappear and Phil cleared his throat and propped himself up on his elbow. “So. Before we head out to where you planned last night, I have things planned too. Choose one - A, B, or C?”

Dan squinted his eyes in suspicion, “What do those options even mean?”

“Obviously you have to choose first! Then I’ll reveal what they are,” Phil smirked.

“Hmm,” Dan contemplated as he stretched a bit more, “B?”

“Good choice,” Phil grinned mischievously.

“Doesn’t look like I made a good choice,” Dan laughed nervously, “so what is it?”

“Eager,” Phil stalled, “I’ll tell you what you didn’t choose first.”

Phil spoke lowly, climbing over Dan, “A was an anal plug. Would’ve been kept in you as we explore the city the entire day.”

Dan swallowed, not sure whether he was glad or upset he didn’t choose that.

“C was a pretty little cock cage, would’ve been a good choice for you to be honest. Just because we’re gonna be out doesn’t mean I’d keep my hands off you. Wouldn’t wanna show an erection outline in your pants to the whole city, would you?”

Dan whimpered a bit at Phil’s words, feeling himself get aroused at the thought of a bit of exhibitionism. Phil was smirking down at him, his hands on the bed either side of Dan’s head to hold himself steady above him. Dan didn’t even care anymore that Phil could see him obviously blushing at his words.

“Why don’t you guess what B stands for?” excitement was clear in Phil’s eyes.

Dan’s mind was still barely awake, and now that it was getting clouded with arousal, he couldn’t think properly at all.

“Uhm, butt plug?”

“How would that be any different from A,” Phil rolled his eyes fondly, “try again.”

Dan frowned a bit, what toy started with B that Phil could’ve brought along on this trip?

Phil was amused by how hard Dan seemed to be thinking of an answer. He carded his hand through Dan’s tangled curls. “Give up?”

Dan nodded, staring up at Phil in curiosity.

“B...” Phil nipped at Dan’s jaw, “is for...” he bit on Dan’s earlobe, drawing out time to reveal the answer.

Dan almost whined at the suspense.

“Both,” Phil whispered in Dan’s ear before moving back to catch Dan’s reaction.

Dan gulped and bit his lip. They haven’t played with toys in a while and he could feel himself already thrumming with excitement.

“You’ve had your days off, now it’s my turn. And I’m gonna have fun on my only day off. How’s that sound?” Phil asked, although he could see from his boy’s dilated eyes that he was definitely up for this game.

“Sounds really hot. Can’t wait, Sir,” Dan admitted.

----------

They took a quick shower together, where Phil got his hands all over Dan in a personal challenge to get his boy as hard and horny as he could.

“How are you supposed to use your cage if you’re hard like that?” Phil then said disapprovingly.

“You could help to get me off first,” Dan suggested cheekily, to which he was rewarded with cold water sprayed at his crotch until his boner died down.

Once they dried off and got into their bathrobes, Phil took the cage out of a hidden pocket in his luggage. Dan stood quietly as he felt the cool plastic encase his cock, and watched as his boss locked him and pocketed the key. It was a first for him, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to last the whole day with it on. He was already horny from the shower, and he was sure Phil was only beginning his teasing. The denial was surely going to drive him crazy by the end of the day.

He then got on all fours on the bed as instructed. Phil took his time fingering him open, brushing against his prostate. Dan moaned, it had been a while since Phil fingered him, and he didn’t even realise that he’d missed the gentle teasing and prodding, the light squeezes on his ass, the reassuring hand on his lower back as more fingers were pressed into him, all a sure way to leave him a desperate mess, and Phil knew what a desperate mess he could be. He was definitely taking advantage of all the tricks he knew to get him there.

The plug slid in him easily, then Phil was patting his ass to get him to stand up. He sat on the bed and got Dan to kneel between his legs.

“Boy, look what you’ve done to me,” he said as he untied his bathrobe to reveal his own erection.

Dan couldn’t help but smile as he wrapped his lips around Phil’s dick. Phil leaned back and enjoyed his boy’s mouth on him. He toed at Dan’s thighs to spread them apart, before toeing at Dan’s cage.

Dan moaned desperately, feeling himself try to get hard to no avail. His cock twitched pathetically as Phil played with it. He tried his best to focus on the blowjob instead, deepthroating and sucking on Phil’s balls too, relishing in the way he made Phil falter in his teasing movements on his locked dick.

He was an expert in pleasuring his boss now, and it didn’t take long before he had cum down his throat. He licked Phil’s cock clean after he swallowed his load, as he waited for Phil to calm down from his orgasm.

“I forgot to mention,” Phil started when he’d regained composure.

He tugged gently at Dan’s hair to get Dan to look at him. His other hand sneaked into his bathrobe pocket, and before Dan knew what Phil was up to, he reflexively jolted up to his knees.

“Oh,” he grabbed onto Phil’s knee to steady himself.

Phil was giggling, taking a small remote out of his pocket. He pressed a button and the vibrations from his plug died as quick as they started.

“C’mon, get dressed. Can’t wait to go to wherever you were planning to last night,” Phil stood up, leaving Dan on the floor wondering how he was going to survive the day.

--------

Thankfully for Dan, Phil didn’t immediately start playing when they left the hotel. They started their adventure walking around Times Square in a quest for some good breakfast bagels. Phil ordered his without cheese and Dan was offended by his lack of good taste, and the fact that he only knew now that Phil was a cheese hater.

“Stop judging my food choices or your ass is gonna get it,” Phil warned jokingly, but still Dan bit his lip, he’d already almost forgotten about his little predicament.

Despite the toys he was wearing, Dan found himself thoroughly enjoying the day with Phil so far. It was easy to forget that Phil actually was his boss when they made fun of advertisements on the big billboards together and joked about licking their palms after touching the grimy poles in the subway trains. His feelings and stupid butterflies in his tummy aside, Phil felt like a genuine friend he could have fun and be comfortable with no matter where they were.

“You should get a caricature done,” Phil suggested after they walked past what seemed to be the 10th artist along the streets.

So Dan found himself sitting in front of an artist. Which was a fun idea, especially because Phil looked so excited for Dan to do it, until he suddenly felt the toy in his ass come to life. His smile stiffened and he gripped the edge of his seat, having to hold back from glaring at Phil who was sniggering behind the artist.

The artist gave him a weird look, but didn’t question it. He finished his caricature quickly, which Phil paid for.

“Aww, look at that smile,” Phil cooed at the drawing, “a good memory immortalised, of you being horny in the middle of New York City.”

Dan blushed deep, looking at his awkward smile depicted on the art. “I hate you,” he pouted.

“Oh do you?” Phil smirked.

Dan gasped, his pout instantly wiped off his face as the vibrations turned up a notch. He tried not to stagger as he kept up with Phil’s pace. The vibrations disappeared slowly, but after that he was certainly kept on his toes, hyperaware of the plug almost grazing against his prostate with every step he walked as they explored the city.

And the day continued with Dan getting surprised by the vibe at the most random times when he least expected it - while standing in a crowded subway or waiting at a stoplight, while getting a slushie or figuring out their route from google maps.

But Phil never went too far, the vibrations were small enough that Dan would be able to control himself without drawing attention, but they were enough to bring colour to his cheeks and make him pause in his step. Phil found himself getting obsessed with the way Dan looked at him equally desperate and embarrassed and annoyed, and he didn’t tell Dan but the more Dan glared at him, the more he couldn’t resist turning the toy on.

“Oh god,” Dan gasped quietly and shut his eyes as the familiar sensation started again. It never got less frustrating even as he got used to it, since he was forced to remain soft in his cage while being stimulated.

They were standing on an escalator leaving the subway platform, and Dan subconsciously held onto Phil’s upper arm to steady himself. The sadist in Phil had been enjoying his control over his boy, but this was the first time that day he felt a twinge of softness for Dan. Dan could’ve disagreed with their little game, but here he was being at Phil’s mercy just because. Phil lowered the vibrations to a stop, watching as Dan quickly dropped his hand, blushing at the realisation that he had been squeezing Phil’s arm.

“C’mon, it’s already 3pm and we haven’t had lunch. Show me that cafe of yours that can’t possibly be better than the one we have back home.”

-----

“Hm, I prefer how our coffee shop looks.”

Dan tried not to think about ‘our’ too much as they both stepped inside.

“Yeah I agree that the one back home is cosier. But the coffee’s good here. Trust me,” Dan answered.

“Better than Starbucks?” Phil’s voice was dead serious, but his raised eyebrow and smirk said otherwise.

Dan rolled his eyes, and Phil had to resist from turning on the plug while Dan ordered as payback.

They sat with their sandwiches and cups of caramel macchiato and began digging in.

“Okay I admit their macchiato is good. But I have too much of an attachment to my Sunday home to think anywhere else could be better,” Phil gave his honest review.

“Can’t argue with that. But I’ll still miss this place when we get back,” Dan considered.

“What about it will you miss?” Phil asked curiously.

“It’s just a different vibe,” Dan said dreamily, imagining that in another universe, they’d travel the world together and discover little coffee shops in each country that they’d call theirs.

He went for a sip of his drink but almost spilled it when his plug turned on again. He bit his lip and looked up at his boss with wide eyes.

“I think I get what you mean,” Phil said thoughtfully as he looked around, feigning innocence.

The butterflies floating around in Dan’s stomach melted as his arousal took over again. He shuddered, his arousal quickly mixing with frustration as he couldn’t even get hard.

A barista walked past their table and Dan stiffened.

Phil seemed to know how he was feeling. He always seemed to know these days. “Just say if you want to stop and we will,” he reassured.

Dan shook his head. He was finding the exhibitionism hot after he got over being jittery about the possibility of strangers picking up on what they’re doing. The fact that Phil loved it too just made him even more up for it.

“No, it’s just. It’s not fairrr,” he whined quietly, “I hate the cage.”

“Hey, you chose that option,” Phil sat back, enjoying the show that was his boy’s expressive face.

He changed the vibrations to a different pulse and Dan shifted in his seat to try to angle the toy away from his prostate. He could feel his cock straining against its confinement.

“And I’m just giving you something more to miss about this cafe. Bet you’ll miss getting horny in plain sight. Being denied and desperate but not able to do anything about it. Do you think the tables around us can hear you?” Phil spoke low, his raspy voice and his words making Dan’s cock twitch, as much as it could in the cage anyway.

He let out a strangled moan, and quickly coughed to cover it up. It only earned him a higher setting on the vibrations, and he gripped the edge of the table.

“Please, Sir,” he whispered.

“Please what?” Phil shrugged.

“Unlock this stupid cage,” Dan said exasperatedly.

“It stays on until our day’s over, remember? Besides, look at you, you love it. Why would I stop you from your fun? Maybe I shouldn’t unlock you until this whole trip is over,” Phil leaned forward, pushing his plate aside and clasping his hands on the table, “What if. I make you wear both the toys the entire flight home, huh? Let you join the mile high club?”

Dan let out a shaky breath. The thought of that turned him on even more, and he was struggling not to moan out loud.

“Tell me boy, are you leaking right now?”

Dan could feel that he’d been leaking for a while now. He nodded, feeling his cheeks turn crimson as Phil tutted.

“Tsk tsk, dirty boy. You gonna continue exploring the city with soiled underwear after this? I guess that’s another memory for you huh, walking around New York with your cum in your pants,” Phil smirked.

Phil turned the vibrations to a maximum, wanting to help Dan reach his orgasm, even though it would be a ruined one in his cage. Instantly, Dan let out tiny quiet whimpers and scrunched his eyes shut, head down as he focused on keeping still and not drawing attention to himself.

He could feel himself reaching the brink of orgasm, but never actually able to get it since his cock was barely hard. It felt confusing, but the continuous pulse against his prostate was overwhelming his sensations.

“Maybe we should do this in our coffee shop back home, too. It’d make for nice Sunday afternoon entertainment,” Phil commented nonchalantly.

“I’d- I’d love to do anything for you, Sir,” Dan managed to say before gritting his teeth.

Phil wasn’t sure why he was surprised to hear that from Dan, since he’d sort of known that Dan would do anything for him. The boy’s in New York submitting to his atypical boss in the middle of a cafe, for fuck’s sake. He swallowed, not going to let the comment break his character.

“Oh how I’d love to see that cock of yours right now. It must be so pathetic, unable to grow and leaking so desperately from its cage, huh?”

Dan nodded in exasperation, his chest visibly rising and falling as he breathed harshly. He bit his lip hard to stop from moaning too loud.

“Look at me,” Phil ordered, wanting to see the desperation in his boy’s eyes.

Dan’s eyebrows were furrowed as he looked up at his boss, showing Phil exactly what he’d expected to see. Dan’s wide brown eyes met Phil’s and silently conveyed his urgent need for relief.

Just as he was about to beg his boss to stop or unlock him or fuck him in the restroom or just something, anything, they were both jolted out of their little bubble.

“Well, fancy seeing you here!”

Dan felt like his heart jumped out of his chest at the intrusion. Meanwhile, Phil’s just sank to the pits of his stomach as he heard the all too familiar voice.

“Jeezus,” Phil muttered in shock as the man clapped his back, “god you scared me, Frank.”

Dan’s eyes darted up to the man. He’d never actually seen Frank before, and he certainly had almost forgotten about the whole talk Frank had had with Phil. It all felt like a lifetime ago, especially with how different things are with him and Phil now than it was back then.

He was sweating, from their scene but now also from nerves as Frank stood over their table, side-eyeing him. Exhibitionism felt like a good idea until someone who knows them shows up.

Thankfully, Phil had slowed the vibe to a stop, and he let out a muted sigh of relief. He was still a wreck of nerves as he wondered if Frank could tell what they were just doing, if it was obvious from his flushed cheeks and erratic breathing. He looked to Phil for his next move, to save them and get Frank to leave as soon as possible.

“You missed the staff bonding breakfast this morning,” Frank stated matter-of-fact, chewing on his gum.

“I already spent everyday this whole week with you all, just wanted a short break before work again,” Phil retorted truthfully enough.

Dan tried his best to shrink back into his seat, not caring that the plug dug further up his ass as he did so. He wished he could turn invisible in that moment.

Frank looked unsatisfied by Phil’s response, so he turned to Dan, who didn’t know where to look. His eyes darted from their intruder to his half eaten sandwich to Phil, but eventually settled back on Frank since he could feel Frank’s stare bore through him. He gave a small, stiff smile.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Frank, Phil’s buddy at work. And you are...?” Frank extended his hand.

“Um-” Dan quickly wiped his clammy hand on his jeans before accepting Frank’s hand, “I’m Dan.”

Stupid handshakes, Dan thought as he awkwardly let his arm be moved by Frank. He didn’t really appreciate how hard Frank squeezed his hand.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before,” Frank said, his tone suggesting that he knows exactly where he’d seen Dan.

Dan didn’t know what to say, but luckily Phil spoke up before he could make a blunder.

“You here to get lunch?”

“Lunch? It’s like, 5pm now. Nah, I was just exploring areas near our hotel. I don’t have a personal tour guide like you,” Frank chuckled.

“Still, you should try the smoked salmon sandwich before they run out, it’s like their best seller or something. And we’d better get going,” Phil pointed Frank in the direction of the counter.

Frank looked like he was about to say something, but decided against it. For a terrifying second, Dan thought that Frank was going to suggest joining them for the rest of the day. Instead, Frank only chuckled at Phil’s remark, but Dan thought it sounded almost like a scoff.

“It’s alright. Anyway, have fun you two. See you tomorrow,” he glanced between both men, intentionally not directing his statement to just one of them. He lingered at the table for a while before leaving.

Dan let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. He looked at Phil, who was visibly tense now. Dan wanted to say something, but he didn’t even know what. He was still worrying if Frank knew what they were up to mere moments before he spoke to them. Had he noticed them here long before he said hi? Was he watching from afar how Dan got all horny and desperate, did he hear Dan’s little whines?

Phil quickly finished up his coffee, his brows knitted together in a frown. His phone pinged and he looked at it, frown lines deepening as he saw a text notification from Frank.

“Is there a restroom here?” he asked, looking around.

Dan pointed in the direction of the restroom. It’d been a while since he last felt proper intimidated by his boss, but then again it’s been a while since he saw his boss this upset. He’d begun to associate bad mood Phil with Frank encounters. In that moment, he suspected that things between them could possibly go back to square one unless he did something about it.

“Here,” Phil said despondently, holding his fist out.

Dan opened his palm in confusion, and Phil dropped a key from his grip.

“You can just. Take care of yourself. Remove the toys and all that. I’ll wait for you here.”

Phil wouldn’t even look Dan in the eyes, and Dan was crushed by the 180º shift in Phil’s mood. They were both having fun before this, and he wanted nothing more than to forget that interruption by going back to the fun and complete their itinerary for the day, including their little game.

“No,” Dan found himself replying, “I’d like to continue.”

Phil looked incredulous at Dan’s response, it was rare of his boy to go against his orders.

“But I don’t.”

“Because of Frank?” Dan needed to make sense of it, he had let go of the very first muddle regarding Frank but now it’s all coming back again and worse because of all the progress they’ve made being dashed just like this.

Phil didn’t know how to respond. He just suddenly felt disgusted at himself for using and playing with Dan in public like this. He knew they were both having fun, and Dan was here telling him he wanted to continue so there was no reason to feel that way, but Phil just couldn’t continue. He knew he shouldn’t let Frank bother him at all, and they were making such good progress that he sometimes forgot that Dan wasn’t something more than his personal escort. But maybe forgetting that is a problem, and he might not have wanted the reminder in the form of Frank interrupting them, but maybe he’d needed it.

So he just sat back and sighed.

Dan took that as a yes to his question. He placed the key on the table and slid it back to Phil, adamant on continuing their day according to plan.

Phil had to ignore how his heart fluttered at the fact that Dan was insisting to continue their play, showing how much he truly wanted it and wasn’t doing it just because Phil made him and it was his job.

“Fine,” Phil said, looking at the key, “then let’s head back to the hotel.”

“Wha-” Dan was honestly getting upset at this point, “we haven’t even gone to the empire state building yet!”

“We can go there, only if you go to the restroom now and take everything off first. Or you can keep them on, and we’ll go back to the hotel.”

It was Dan’s turn to frown, and he folded his arms as he leaned back in his seat as well. He looked at the key. He’d be damned if he was going to let this moment ruin all the progress they’ve made and go back to all the boundaries and lines drawn between them because of a coworker or whatever Phil was so scared of.

“Fine,” he mimicked Phil, “let’s go back to the hotel.”

Phil was surprised by Dan’s decision, but he tried not to show it. This boy had the opportunity to explore a city he’d never been to like a normal tourist without Phil’s silly sexual games interfering and yet he’s choosing not to? Hell, he had the opportunity for relief after being denied the entire day, and yet he’s choosing not to have it?

“If that’s what you want,” he said, slowly pocketing the key.

Dan knew their day wouldn’t be fun anymore with a moody Phil in tow; there was no point in trying to explore the city further like nothing happened. So he nodded surely and got up, ready to leave this cafe that he won’t miss anymore.

-------

They walked the short distance back to their hotel in silence, only broken by the sound of leaves crunching under their footsteps. Central Park was dipped in beautiful gold and red, the sunset glow further illuminating the autumn leaves. The two men walked through the trees and the leaves falling around them, heads down and too occupied with their own thoughts to fully appreciate the beauty around them.

Phil felt as angry as the bright sunset rays warming his skin and the fiery red leaves he was stepping on. At Frank for interrupting their otherwise good day whether intentionally or not, at himself for still letting trifling things affect him, even at Dan for still foolishly being by his side despite his fickleness and hesitance on their relationship.

The tension followed them all the way to their room. Phil made sure that Dan saw him place the key for the toy on the bedside table, then wordlessly entered the shower.

Dan plopped onto the bed, wincing a bit as the plug in him shifted uncomfortably. He smushed his face into his pillow and groaned into it. He didn’t understand how Frank could influence Phil’s mood so drastically. He knew they needed to talk things out, and potentially disrupt their current arrangement and take the next step. Whatever ‘next step’ means, be it being something more or ending it all. But he had no idea how, and Phil seemed like he won’t speak up first either.

Dan listened to the steady shower stream, thinking about how just this morning, they shared the shower together. He glanced over at his chastity key. He still had no intention to unlock himself, though. It had turned from a display of submission to a statement of defiance for him. He wasn’t going to let Phil have his way right now.

Dan was too busy thinking about what to do after Phil’s done showering that he didn’t hear the first knock on the door.

He shot up from the bed when he heard it the second time. Cautiously, he approached the door and peeked through the peephole.

His breath got knocked out of his lungs. On the other side of the door was the cause of his current problems. Dan stood still, not knowing whether he should answer it or ignore. How did Frank even know that they were back already?

Frank knocked once more so Dan reluctantly opened the door a tiny fraction.

“Where’s Phil?” Frank asked once the door opened, unfazed that his boss’s wide-eyed boy was the one who answered.

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

ooo the cliffhanger! the suspense! can’t wait to find out what happens when I finally update in like 2 months lmao!

no but srsly I also have no clue what's gonna happen next omg lol how did this fic that was originally intended for purely office smut turn into *gestures vaguely* this

~Part 10~

~Part 12~

[therainroguefanfiction]

⚘ A Sick Ride (Tobio Kageyama)

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff, AU

Word Count: 3,332

Pairing: Reader x Kageyama

World: Haikyuu!!

Prompt(s): A is sick and B takes care of them. / “Checkmate, sweetheart.” / Uber Driver AU

Author’s Note: This was written for the weekly-prompt (08/26/20) over on @hqbookclub​ ‘s discord server – you should check it out if you haven’t ;)

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Being an uber driver came with its fair share of headaches, but the pros heavily outweighed the cons. You were your own boss, working when you chose to rather than being stuck to a schedule, and if you didn’t want to drive someone because they were being a jerk, you didn’t have to. Most of the time, your clients were kind and respectful, keeping to themselves or making small talk, and the tips were great. Your rating on the app was above average because of this, but not top notch because you weren’t afraid to tell people off when they acted stupid.

Most of your clientele were repeat customers that appreciated your work ethic and professionalism, so they specifically requested you whenever possible. Because of this, you stopped taking new customers so you could focus on your repeat customers. One of the biggest clients that you dealt with was a man named Kageyama Tobio who, despite being fresh out of high school, was on a professional volleyball team representing Japan at the Olympics. He lived in a penthouse in Tokyo and clearly had more money than he knew what to do with, judging by how he tips without even counting the amount of money he offered you. He was a silent customer, preferring to keep to himself and get some rest between his interviews and practice games, which was fine with you.

You pulled up outside the penthouse, pulling out your phone to let him know that you were waiting outside and, like always, he responded with one word. You glanced at the sky, seeing the dark clouds rolling in. It was super humid outside, the summer heat nearly unbearable. The AC in the car wasn’t nearly as cold as usual because of it, but it was better than nothing.

The back door was pulled open, Kageyama practically throwing himself into the backseat. You glanced at him through the rear view mirror and frowned, turning in your seat to get a better look at him. His face was unusually pale, dark bags sitting beneath his bloodshot eyes, and the tip of his nose was bright red. He looked like absolute hell.

“Kageyama -”

“I’m going to be late,” he mumbled under his breath, body slumping down against the seat as he closed his eyes.

Chewing on your lip, you reluctantly started the GPS and pulled away from the curb. The ride was silent, broken only by the sound of the AC working hard to keep the car cool, and you found yourself glancing back at him every few minutes, but he didn’t shift from his position once. When you reached the office building where his next interview would be taking place, you parked the car and glanced back at him.

“We’re here,” you stated, but he didn’t move, making you turn in your seat. “Kageyama?” You reached out to him, feeling heat pouring off of his skin before you even made contact. When your fingers touched his forehead, your eyes widened. ‘He has a serious fever. Shit, what do I do?’ You turned back around, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you looked at the building. ‘He’s certainly not up for an interview…’ After a couple minutes of internally debating with yourself, you put the car in drive and headed back the way you had come.

Thunder began to rumble overhead as you got closer to the penthouse, rattling the windows of the car. Rather than pulling up at the front of the building like you normally would, you pulled into the parking garage where you came to a stop in front of the metal arm. The old man sitting in the booth started toward you, so you rolled the window down with a soft smile. “Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon.” He smiled back, tipping the hat he wore that matched his security uniform. “Are you here to visit someone? I’ll have to call up to them to verify.”

“Ah, no, actually…” You cleared your throat, a bead of nervous sweat rolling down your cheek. “I’m an uber driver that came here to pick up Kageyama-san, but he passed out in the backseat.”

The man tilted his body forehead to look into the back of the car, lips tugging downward. “I keep telling that boy he’s going to work himself to death. I saw him this morning and told him he looked sickly but he just waved me off.” He straightened his back with a huff, moving his hand as if he were swiping at an invisible fly. “I’ll let you through. Make sure he gets to his suite safely, you hear? Suite 305 on the eight floor.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” You nodded, turning your attention in front of you as the metal arm slowly started to rise up, allowing you to drive through the opening into the garage. You took the first available space before turning off the engine, dropping your keys into your pocket. As you headed for the opposite side of the car, your eyes scanned the garage, looking for someone that might be able to offer some assistance, but that level was empty. Thunder rumbled again, louder and stronger as the first signs of rain began to tumble from the sky.

You pulled the back door open, gently shaking his shoulder. “Kageyama-san. I know you don’t feel good but please wake up.”

A barely audible whine passed his lips, but he didn’t wake from his slumber, making you hang your head. You couldn’t just leave him in the car, he needed to get into bed so he could recover, but you were worried about your ability to carry him. Now, you had been on the wrestling team back in high school, so you were naturally stronger than the average person, but that was nearly three years ago and you certainly hadn’t kept up with your training in that time. Bringing your hand to your chin, your eyes scanned his body. Despite the slightly baggy clothes he wore, you knew that the volleyball player was mostly muscle and you imagined he probably weighed around a hundred and sixty pounds or so.

‘I can totally do this.’ With a nod, you carefully unbuckled his seat belt, having to hold him up so his body wouldn’t slump farther into the car. “I’m just putting this out there, if you want to wake up just long enough to help me out here, that’s be great.” But still, he did not stir. “Okay, fine. Be that way.”

With a huff, you brought his body closer to the edge of the seat, sliding your arms beneath his body. You originally wanted to carry him on your back, but getting him there seemed much more dangerous than you originally thought. ‘Guess he’s gonna be a princess today. Remember to lift with your legs,’ you grunted at his weight, but it was doable. Your arms would hate you later for it, but you felt confident that they could handle it long enough to get him upstairs.

Once he was out of the car, you kicked the door shut and headed for the elevator, having to bend your body so you could tap the button with your knuckle. It seemed to descend at the pace of a slug that had eaten its fill of your grandma’s plant, but it finally arrived with a ding, the doors sliding open. As you stepped inside, Kageyama shifted closer to you, his face falling against your neck as his long gingers clutched at your shirt, soft mumbles passing his lips. Heat rushed to your face, but you convinced yourself that it was just because of his flushed skin pressed against your own and not because you were currently carrying a very attractive celebrity athlete.

It was a struggle to press the eighth floor because it was higher than where your hands currently sat, but with some mild determination and a threat to ‘smash the button so many times it will forget its purpose’, you finally managed it, releasing a sigh as you leaned back against the wall. ‘What has my life become?’ You wondered, your eyes trained on the red digits above the door, slowly climbing toward the number eight. ‘He is my best customer, after all. I think his tips alone have earned a little special treatment. Besides, I’m just going to drop him off and then leave, he’ll never even know.’

The elevator lurched to a stop, dinging loudly as the doors slowly slid open and you stepped out, scanning the long hallway. ‘Let’s see, that one says 310 – 315.’ Your eyes shifted to the left. ‘And that one says 300 – 309.’ You started down the left side of the hallway, having to stop so you could readjust the man in your arms, which were quickly going numb.

At the realization, you walked a bit faster, eyes scanning the golden engraved plates by each door until you found the one you were looking for, but there was a problem. ‘How in the nine hells am I supposed to get inside?’ You glanced at the man, feeling your face grow hot again at the mere thought of rifling through his pockets, but… what choice did you have?

The door down the hall creaked open and then closed a moment later, a woman in her early sixties stepping out into the hall pushing a cleaning cart. She paused when she saw you, suspicious because she knew every single person that lived or worked on the first ten floors and she had never once seen you before.

You cleared your throat, forcing a smile that you hoped didn’t appear guilty. “Hello! My, uhm… friend lives here but he kind of overworked himself and passed out, would it be possible to open the door for me so I can put him to bed?”

For a moment, she just stood there, her narrowed eyes darting between you and the navy haired male, and then without a word, she pulled a set of keys from her pocket, approaching the door. You stepped back to give her room, wishing she would move a little bit faster because you didn’t know how much longer your arms would hold up.

When she finally got the door open, she paused, her narrowed eyes returning to your face. You shifted awkwardly, feeling as if she were looking into your very soul. Finally, her lips parted and she said in a raspy voice, “Take care of that idiotic blueberry.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as she returned to her cart and continued down the hall, knocking on the next door down before entering. ‘What a strange woman.’ You shook your head, stepping into the cool apartment. It was fairly modern, with very little decorations – and the few posters that he did have were all volleyball related. There was a small hallway just inside the door that opened up into a large area, the kitchen on the left with a small island and the living room on the right. The general colors of the place were white and grey, with a couple of other neutral or dark tones splashed in here and there. Beyond the kitchen was a short hallway that held three doors and since the first door was cracked open, you checked that one first.

‘Score!’ You grinned, stepping into the room and using your elbow to flip the switch, bathing the room with a soft yellow glow. Unlike the other room, his bedroom featured dark blues and greys, his sheets the same color as his hair. You gently laid him down, releasing a sigh of relief for your arms, which shook lightly from the horror that they had been subjected to. ‘Now I can leave and get back to work,’ you thought, turning toward the door, but something made you pause and look back at him. His breathing was heavy, mouth parted because he couldn’t get air through his nose. His face was a deep shade of red, a thin sheen of sweat dripping down his skin. You honestly felt bad just leaving him like that. ‘Damn you, Y/N, and your empathy!’

With a groan of frustration, you left the room to search the bathroom for a thermometer, but there was none there. Instead, you grabbed a washcloth from the rack bolted to the wall and headed into the kitchen, running it under cold water before wringing it out. You checked the cabinets and then the drawers, finally finding the thermometer in the junk drawer. You took the cap off, running it under hot water for a moment before drying it with a paper towel and heading back to his bedroom.

First, you folded the towel and set it across his forehead before carefully setting the tip of the thermometer into his mouth, forcing his mouth closed until it started to beep. ‘103° F… damn. I can’t really do anything until he wakes up.’

The phone within his coat pocket started to buzz loudly, making the boy stir in his sleep, a groan leaving his lips. You pulled the phone from his pocket, seeing the name Sawako Akimi flashing across the screen. Your thumb lowered only to lift again as you debated on whether or not to answer the phone, but then it stopped ringing, only for a text message to come through from the same person.

• ‘Where in the world are you, Tobio?’

You frowned at the use of his first name, but you knew it made sense that he would have a girlfriend considering how attractive and successful he is at such a young age. Before you could reply to the message and explain the situation, she continued.

• ‘You’re missing your interview! Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to secure this for you?’

• ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this to me. The looks these people are giving me!’

• ‘If you’re playing volleyball at the Y again, I swear, Tobio!’

Taking a breath, you started to type out a message before she could send another. ‘Hello there, my name is Y/N and I apologize for messaging you like this but I thought you should know that Kageyama-san is currently sleeping. I’m his uber driver and he passed out in the backseat of my car, he’s got the flue, I think. I brought him back to his room and I’m going to leave now, but I thought you should know :)’

She responded instantly.

• ‘Who the hell are you? Is this a joke?’

• ‘Who do you think you are using his phone?’

• ‘Don’t you dare move, I’ve called the cops! You’re going to be arrested for breaking and entering, stalking, plus assault! Checkmate, sweetheart. You fans are so disgusting, honestly.’

Your heart started to race within your chest at the words and you quickly tapped the power button to turn off the screen, setting it onto the bedside table. ‘Shit, what am I supposed to do? I should leave, but… won’t that make me look guilty? There’s no way to prove my story, though…’

Kageyama shifted, his eyes fluttering open. His body felt sore and heavy, as if he had been hit by a truck and he could’t recall where he last was. He could feel his sweaty body beneath his clothing, feel the burn in his nose when he tried to breathe through his nostrils. As he forced himself into a sitting position, his stomach churned and he slapped his hand over his mouth, bolting from the bed to rush to the bathroom where he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

You frowned as you came up behind him, softly rubbing his back to try and soothe him as he dry heaved. Though the thought of being arrested for trying to help worried you, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him alone when he was feeling so ill. ‘I am so going to regret this. What if I get fired? Shit.’

Kageyama pushed himself up until his back hit the side of the tub, rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were half-lidded as they stared at you, clouded with misery. “Why…” his voice was hoarse and raw as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “Why are you here?”

“You passed out in my car,” you explained with a frown. “What were you thinking, trying to go to an interview when you’re sick? I know I have no right to lecture you, but that was really stupid.”

His eyes widened at the mention of the interview and he groaned, letting his head fall backward. “Shit… the interview…”

“Yeah, about that -”

A loud banging echoed throughout the suite, followed by a loud male voice. “Police! Open up!”

You gave him a sheepish smile before standing up and heading to the door, pulling it open. Two officers stood on the other side of the door, looking at you suspiciously. “Hello, please come in.”

“We’re looking for Kageyama Tobio, the owner of this suite.” The first officer, Karaki, didn’t spare you a glance as he looked around the suite, looking for anything out of place.

“He’s in the bathroom -”

“And who are you?” The second office, Akimaru, eyed you suspiciously, his hand on his belt.

“My name is L/N F/N and I -”

“Did you get them, officers?!” A woman came rushing through the door, breathing heavily. Her eyes landed on you and she scowled angrily. “What are you waiting for? Arrest them! They entered this apartment illegally!”

“Calm down, ma’am,” Akimaru commented, holding his hands up when she tried to get closer to you. “We have to assess the situation.”

“Assess the – are you stupid? They are clearly a fan trying to take advantage of Tobio! I demand you arrest them!”

“Umm, I was just trying to help,” you sweatdropped, holding up your hands in surrender.

“That’s what they all say!” She scowled, putting her hand on her hip. “Fans always believe they are helping, but they are only helping themselves!”

You scowled, starting to feel annoyed by this screeching woman. “I am not his fan, I don’t even follow volleyball!”

“Yeah, right!”

“Will you stop screaming,” Kageyama slowly shuffled into the room, arm across his stomach. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Tobio!” She rushed past the cops, pulling the taller male into a hug that he clearly didn’t want, his nose scrunching up. “Don’t worry, this psycho will be arrested for what they’ve done to you.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing her back with more effort than usual because of his weakened state. “Y/N isn’t going anywhere.” His eyes turned to the cops. “My name is Kageyama Tobio and I asked them over to take care of me while I’m sick.”

“Why are you lying for them?” The woman huffed. “I have the messages for pro -”

“Please go away, Sawako-san. I’m not in the mood for your theatrics. I’m going back to bed.” His dark eyes met yours and he reached out to you, waving his hand. You took the hint, following him back into the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I’m sorry about all this…”

Kageyama fell onto the bed with a groan, his half-lidded eyes landing on you. “S’fine. Thank you… for helping me.”

You smiled softly, picking up the damp rag that had fallen to the end of the bed when he sat up, gently placing it on the back of his neck which elicited a soft sigh from his lips. “You’re welcome, Kageyama-san.”

His eyes slid closed as sleep started to tug at his consciousness. His words were soft, barely audible, and you had to take a minute to process them because of that. When they finally registered, though, you couldn’t help the smile that came to your lips.

“Call me… Tobio…”

You gently brushed the hair away from his eyes. “Rest well… Tobio.”

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[wevegottogetaway]

Whirlwind Part II - Bora

DAY 2

Echoes are bouncing within the sturdy walls of the San Diego Marine Corps Air Station's main hangar. Blackshoes are in the middle of pre-flight logistics runs and equipment set-up before the launch of Top Gun program's first training mission. Aircrafts are being carefully escorted outside towards the runway, the sound of their roaring turbines whelming Harry's ears but he doesn't let that disturb his self-reflecting musings. His body is leant on the metallic hinges of the warehouse's entrance as his absentminded gaze doesn't shift from the take-off runway.

He is about an hour early but the upcoming events of the day have had him on edge since he reluctantly draped the cool bedsheets off his body that morning. How could he possibly get a wink of sleep knowing he was, at last, going back amongst the clouds for the first time since the accident? For the first time without his best friend. For the first time without is partner by his side (or rather behind him) watching out for hidden threats and targets in line. Jonathan had always had his back but from this day forward Harry would have to rely on Aella to keep them both safe.

He doesn't know what to make of that, what to make of her. There is no questioning her skills and capability, one could never join this program without those...but two highly proficient flyers don't necessarily equal one flawless unit. Especially since they know so little of each other. Be that as it may, the fellowship that binds two pilots flying the same aircraft is indispensable to their success and in those life-of-deaths seconds, when it feels like the sky is closing in on them and the next move can make or break them, it all comes down to one thing: the entrustment between him and her.

And he wants to. Wants to take his trust out from the jetted pocket of his uniform, lay it on the palm of her hand and enclose her fingers around it to keep secure. But it doesn't work like that, does it? Trust is not so much a choice as it is a spontaneous feeling immune to rational thinking. And for a reason he doesn't want to mull over too much, Harry can't help but feel wary of her in a way. He's seen her fire; the night before last when she made a fool out of their most redoubtable opponent. Recognized the same flame that used to inhabit his best friend's eyes and make him the warmest being Harry ever got to be around. It doesn't sway him as much as it scares him. Fierceness is a good trait in the Navy world, but too much of it can be deceitful. Harry experienced it first-hand.

He doesn't dwell on it too much for now though, and makes his way to the back of the warehouse where his "classmates" have started to huddle while waiting for the superiors. Most of the promotion is there, the usual inner-groups appearing clearly to Harry as his eyes takes in the scene: herdsman Rex and his sheeps on one side while the other crews enjoy one last round of banter before their sternness is summoned for the first mission of the program.

Harry takes note of Aella's absence just as someone calls out to him. "Styles!" It's his callsign tumbling out of Dean Marshall's mouth. Harry used to have another, but the only person who was allowed to make use of that one special letter, is no longer able to claim it.

Dean and his partner Emmet Iggersman - or as they are commonly addressed to on base, Dazzler and Tigger - complete the other half of Harry and Aella's team. The four of them fly in tandem to form a section and hopefully fulfill the missions' objectives before the others do. Harry has flown many a time with these two guys and he's glad he'll be able to count on them as well should his new pairing go south.

"Hey Daz, how's it goin' ?" his greeting is followed by a good-natured handshake.

"S' goin' awesome, thanks for asking! My boy just started walking like a penguin on steroids right before I left. I swear the little champ is takin' the helm to keep his mum on her toes while his father's gone!" The proud smirk teasing Dazzler's lips triggers a contagious chuckle from his peers as they all take in the sheer bliss coloring the new-dad's face.

"That's grand man! Send my prayers to Catherine, sounds like she might need it, yeah?"

"Will do Styles, but enough 'bout me, how are you holdin' up? I can't deal fo' you man, what with Fox gone and this new partner thing..." There's a painful tug at Harry's chest at the utterance of Jonathan's callsign, the nickname born from his tangerine-like hair though Harry always believed it was more reference to his best-friend incredibly cunning mind. He ignores it in favor of a more tempered and diplomatic answer than what his heart was crying out.

"It'll be an adjustment fo' sure, yeah. But overall I'm just glad to be back in the game"

"As we all are Styl-" Tigger has just placed a comforting hand on Harry's broad shoulder when he is interrupted by none other than Rex's disdainful voice.

"Hey girls! How's the BFFs reunion going?"

Dazzler doesn't hesitate before stepping forward and firing back "Just about a punch away from properly kickin'off. Why? are you offerin'?"

"Wooo I'm shaking" Rex replies with a fake tremor. Then he seems to spot something - or rather someone - coming up behind Harry and Tigger. It's Aella, head kept down as to not attract any attention. She's seen the despicable man interacting with her new crew so she tries to reach the makeshift classroom (mostly just chairs aligned in a couple of rows in the middle of a hangar) as inconspicuously as possible. The déjà-vu impression is not lost on her.

"There she is!" Aella tilts her head up, knowing she's busted. "Miss James Bond Girl in the flesh! C'mere sweetheart, come show these suckers who wears the pants in this team!" The disdain within her levels up a notch (as if possible) but Aella doesn't know what she hates the most about this nonsense. The fact he is ridiculing her once again or the fact he acts like none of the after James-Bond-Girl-debacle two nights ago ever happened. As if she didn't put him in his place like the badass she is.

Or maybe it's the affectionate pet-name coming out of his repugnant lips and directed to her... Anyway, she doesn't have the time to prepare a comeback before a second round is launched, this time at her new partner.

"Better watch it Styles! Next thing you know you'll be the one in the freakin' kitchen..."

"Cut it out, Rex-" Harry starts defending his team but a stern and humorless voice overpowers his.

"I don't reckon anyone asked for your moronic opinions. So please pack your ignorant bullshit away and leave us the fuck alone" She keeps her countenance as she tells him off but Rex is not budging an inch and neither is the insolent smirk hung on his face.

"Damn Harry, quite the mouthy one you have here. Sure you can handle her?"

"For Christ's sake, please shut the hell up and go back where you came from Rex or by God I swear I won't hesitate to have you weep on the floor for your momma like a baby, again."

"Again?" Dazzler perks up with a smiling frown just as Rex's smugness fades away to be replaced by unadulterated contempt.

"You're delusional if you think I can be scared of you Lonethorne" he spats out while backing away, head up mighty high. "Stupid cunts" he adds under his breath as he turns around to rejoin his buddies.

Aella knows she's worked herself up but she can't help but call out to him one more time. "Oh and Rex?... How's the hand doing?" He doesn't give her the curtesy of a respond but Aella is satisfied with the flare of his nose and the twitch in his eye.

Meanwhile the three men still at her sides are left speechless, Dazzler and Tigger still processing the heated exchange while Harry seems lost in his own thoughts.

She'd done it again. Let the fire out and turned Rex's crudeness into ashes before they could scar her skin. There was no attempt of taming the beast before she went in guns blazing. That didn't help assuage his worries one bit. She's too impulsive is playing in his head over and over like a broken record. Because while Harry agrees Rex is the worst kinds of knobheads, he's always believed responding to antagonization was pointless. Better to look the other way and let the jerk waste his energy on petty words that will never reach aim. And because all in all, there are dogfighters, but that endeavor is reserved in the air, not on land.

"My my, darling. You just pimped the shit out of the least pimpable man on base. I think I'm in awe." Dazzler says after regaining his senses.

"Please don't call me darling" Aella retorts softly as she knows he doesn't mean it in any condescending way.

"Sorry. Aella, is it?"

"Yeah, that's me. And you are...?"

"Dazzler, so very nice to meet you" he smiles widely accepting her handshake offer. "And just a heads-up dear Aella. After you tell me all about weeping Rex, you and I are gonna be besties, I can feel it" She chuckles lightly as his enthusiasm and decides she'll not only welcome his affection but also return it. Before she can reciprocate the sentiment however, the room falls suddenly quiet and a second later the reason, or rather 4 reasons, come into her view: Commander Berks, Lieutenant Rogers and two other officers that have yet to be introduced.

"Morning everyone, I can tell some of you over-indulged in Induction Rave. If you could put the same amount of devotion you put at getting faced into your training, I would be eternally grateful." Berks earns himself a full house of laughters, before compelling the room back to sobriety. "Time to be serious now. ACM training was not invented to entertain you and make you look pretty up there. As an era where the potential of confrontation is constantly rising, air combat excellence is now more than ever a vital technique to the protection of our country. And don't you forget that: you are above all defenders of the nation. Not heroes, not athletes. I say again: protectors. Best be at you sharpest then." The Commander pauses after his inspiring tirade.

"Now, let's talk about this first assignment. Just plain good old-fashioned dogfighting to give you guys a foretaste of what's coming. Today it's gonna be 4 units at a time against 4 of ours. Your goal is to target any one of the instructors' units while trying not to be shot yourself. I'll say it now, we won't go easy on you. This exercise is meant as an assessment of your current skills, so don't get too cocky up there, just do your ex-Commanders honor. First one to reach its target or last one to be shot wins the mission. Remember, there is no points for second place in this program." He pauses and starts grinning. "Show me what you got."

With that Aella tries a small glance in Harry's direction but his eyes are fixed towards the horizon with a permanent frown shrouding their luminescence. She sighs.

Fully equipped of her G-suit, helmet and headset, Aella is making the last adjustments on her seat at the back of the cockpit. She's not unfamiliar with the radar intercept officer position though she's usually the one at the commands. She's also used to flying alone.

The panel in front of her intimidatingly takes up all her front view with a couple of screens and numerous switches and tuners. Her perspective is limited to a peripheral vision on both sides of the cockpit but she wouldn't be relying on a full panorama to spot target and threats anyway. No her job is to accurately keep tract of all flying elements within the largest range and most anticipated time possible. There's no point in crying out for enemy presence when they're already at your six and firing away... Along with relaying their position to Harry, Aella can also suggest tactical maneuvers based on the predictions she draws from the opponents' moves.

Speaking of Harry, they haven't exchanged a word since their brief introduction two days ago. Now they're both tightly harnessed to their seat about to navigate a near-thirty-tons engine beyond the speed of sound. Aella's never been a religious one but as the technician gives her one last thumb up to signal their operational status, she's praying to all deities that the awkwardness between them on land is nothing but the result of a subliminal force destined to counterbalance their incredible chemistry in the air.

The canopy of the cockpit locks them into silence before Harry speaks up. "All good?" The mediocre quality of the microphone's transducer makes his voice even raspier than usual through the headset tucked over Aella's ears.

"Yeah all good. You?"

"Same."

She thinks their conversation is over but then she hears a hushed voice. "Let's kick the tires and light the fires." She figures it was more so for his own benefit though, so she doesn't comment.

All too soon they're propelled forward, backs pinned to their seats because of the tremendous speed pressure. It can be a small-scale body trauma for some but Aella has never felt more comfortable. A tingle of the fingertips later, they are welcomed in an infinite azure dotted by a few scarce clouds, the runway long gone behind them. Both pilots enjoy a couple peaceful seconds to take in their new panorama and then they snap: it begins.

"I've got a six strobe. I think he's locked on us." Aella starts reading out the incoming movements entering her radar scope.

With a switch on his radio transmitter, Harry reaches out to Dazzler and Tigger as they are flying in a parallel tandem alongside them. "Tigger, you spot it?"

"Positive. It's Rogers, looks like he's a single." Tigger who endorses the same role as Aella quickly reports, before she pitches back in for a few more precisions.

"Contact at 900 knots closure. He's gaining speed."

"Daz, it's split time." Harry announces.

"Copy that Styles."

After Dazzler's approval, the two aircrafts are both sharply veering outwards in a defensive split, leaving a Y-shaped trail of smoke after them. The move comes through as the chaser is contrived to choose one direction to follow, but to Harry's dismay they get the short end of the stick.

"Rogers coming left, eight o'clock high." Aella signals immediately.

The scenery below them is a mix of wild purples and pale magentas, with fields-worth of lavender adorning the dry soil so characteristic of Californian lands. Peace and nature prevail on these grounds slightly remote from the bustling life of the city but the same cannot be said ten-thousand feet above where Harry is caught in a tedious game of zig-zag trying to escape his pursuer.

"He's tailing us. Watch your six!" her pulse quickens every time Rogers' unit manages to lock its position right behind them. There is no more vulnerable position for a pilot than to have an enemy flying at their six. It usually means incoming fire. It's why Harry is relentlessly jerking the TomCat in a rapid and unpredictable manner, the constant change in direction making it near-impossible for Rogers to lock, aim and shoot them.

"No shit Sherlock, why d'you think I'm jinxing so much?" Harry is starting to see spots on his peripheral vision from the gravitational pull, and he can only hope his tailgater is experiencing the same. Beads of sweat dotting his hairline and starting to dribble along his temples but it doesn't put a damper on his concentration. He can't relent or he becomes an exposed target.

"Goddamn, he's not budgin.'" Harry tries with all his might to leave his frustration out of the cockpit but the situation is not looking up.

"You got new contact ahead, 2 o'clock." Aella perks up at the discovery.

"Imma bit preoccupied with Rogers up my ass, if you haven't noticed." She should have known pointing out a potential target while they were heavily pursued themselves was not what Harry wanted to hear, but she already had a plan all mapped out. That's what Aella is best at after-all: reading a situation and coming up with a strategy in .2 second flat, no reflexion needed, just the numbers, the physics and the sky on her side.

"I didn't mean it as a target. You can use them as a shield if you keep Rogers high enough right before making a dive under them." She explains her vision to him, desperately wishing she could be the one on the front executing it.

"He'll just go above and back to tailgating us."

"Not if you barrel-roll right after the contact, he'll just overshoot." His lack of response betrays his skepticism so she insists further, brushing off the way he's second-guessing her.

"At the least, it'll give you leeway and buy you some time." This time her argument weights enough to tip his scale in favor of her plan.

"'lright then." Harry reluctantly agrees, tilting his chin slightly to the side as if he couldn't believe himself he was going through with her move. "'s gonna be snug timing."

"Just trust my cue." Aella's words are left hanging between them like a desperate echo thrown in an empty ravine. Does he trust her? Does she? It's definitely not the moment to reflect on it, much less have a discussion about it, but neither of them are oblivious to the eerie silence filling up their space like a faux smile greeting a bad joke. Then the aircraft is once again yanked to a blunt left and Aella is snapped out of it.

"That's it. Target at 1 mile abeam 40° on your right." She's got the fellow fighter in her line of view, both on the radar and through the bulletproof glass of the cockpit's canopy. "Keep high, keep high...3, 2, 1, drop!" Harry immediately complies, the aircraft nearly skimming the underbelly of its twin above, before shooting right back upwards, nose pointing at the sun. The trajectory describes a half loop leaving them upside-down for a milli second before Harry rolls them back to normal, in the end effectively realizing a vertical U-turn. Rogers skillfully avoids a fetal collision with the third wheeler but doesn't anticipate Harry's sudden volte-face, in accordance with Aella's prognosis.

"Fuck, we're losin' airspeed." Because of such a twist of direction, they are indeed relegated to a lesser speed which Harry is not too enchanted about.

"He's losing some too." Aella reasons, before jumping to another matter. "2 incoming bogies ahead. I think it's Berks tailing Dazzler." She's barely finished her sentence that two familiar aircrafts flash passed them at such high speed, Harry has to crane his neck backwards to watch his friends in the same predicament he was mere seconds ago.

"I have to cover them." His instinct takes over.

"Fly your needles Harry, it's too late for them." Aella objects to it straight away. Her mind is unbiased, she knows going for them would be pointless.

"Like hell I'm gonna sit tight, they need cover." Harry's voice is categoric like he couldn't ever fathom a world where he would leave his friends stranded for the sake of a mission.

"They already lost, Berks' gonna turn for us now."

"You don't know that." He replies adamantly despite her warning.

"Except I do. Daz was loosing speed, it's over for them." Now she's the one trying to stifle her frustration with all her might. She just wishes he would listen, but instead they're doing yet another 180 to follow Dazzler's trail to the rescue. She has no choice but to adapt and keep calling the positions.

"Contact ahead, four hundred, coming down. He's gonna turn."

"Not if I nail 'im first." If she weren't so bitter about being ignored, she might find his determination admirable. Admittedly she can't deny Harry is an amazing pilot, as are proof his excellent accuracy in space and timing as well as the ease with which he performs each maneuver. But alas, the git won't take her words for it, no matter how knowledgable she is. Talk about eyes rolling...

Meanwhile, Harry is desperately trying to aim for the TomCat launched in his direction, but his opponent is using the same tricks he used against Rogers.

"Shit, 's not stable enough to fire." Aella can't believe he has to audacity to groan about it to her. DIdn't she warn him?

Any shot is missed as the two aircrafts cross trajectories, nearly grazing each other

"Don't lag, he's gonna come around high at your five." Instead of commenting on his failed attempt, she communicates her best educated guess.

"How'dya figure?"

"Cause he was lagging too." Her retorts are getting sharper and drier as her annoyance grows the more he questions her. Her eyes take a rest from the screens on her panel to lay on the Californian landscape flowing passed them. They've wandered quite the distance away from the base, the relatively greener scenery of the seafront giving way to a craggy turf redder and drier by the meter.

"Fuck." Harry suddenly swears, the quality of his voice could rival the roughness of the ground Aella was just observing, and she's effectively brought back into focus.

"Damn it, I told you!" She indulges with an expletive of her own once she spots the fast-approaching signal of Berks unit on her AMDR (Air and Missile Defense Radar).

"The fucker got in my blind spot, I'm doin' my best." Harry is quick to defend himself but the damage is done: they're being chased down once again.

Aella thinks she's starting to reach her disgruntlement threshold. The fact Harry isn't much receptive to her ideas doesn't alleviate her growing frustration at her lack of control over the damn carrier. "Well step up before we get wiped." She spits.

"I swear to God Aella, now's really not the time"

"If you just listened to me for- Watch out! At your six, closing fast!" She desperately wants to tell him off. Wishes she could go on a rant about how much of a dismissing jerk is being, but her duties reins her in when a loud signal starts beeping frantically on her board. Berks is locked at their six, a press of a finger away from shooting them.

"I hear that" Harry grunts as he gives a sharp jerk at the control stick in order to dodge Berks' line of fire. He keeps jinxing the aircraft in all axis but Berks follows suit and matches all his moves.

"He's too fast, I can't get out of his fire range." Harry's heartbeat skyrockets as the situation becomes more dire by the second. He doesn't know how long he can maintain the zig-zagging going, for the sake of both his energy and the carrier's. Abrupt moves are what's currently keeping them safe but these are sadly the greediest in kerosene.

Then all hell breaks loose when Aella is hit by one of her craziest ideas.

"Try a complete thrust reversal of the turbofan engines."

"' the fuck?! Are you nuts?! It'll send us spiraling." Harry's livid. He knew it. He fucking knew she was impulsive and reckless on the edges. She held to much fire in her hands for him to put his trust in them like he wanted to.

"Precisely." His harsh reaction doesn't deter her confidence. "If you're out of control, he can't anticipate your moves, can he?"

"Are you even listening to yourself? That's a stupid idea if I ever heard one."

"It's not. You just have to switch back off the burners for a sec and you'll get the control back."

"And what if I don't?" She knows her calculations are foolproof but Harry won't have any of it. He can't think past the boldness and near-arrogance of it all.

"You will, just trust me." Once again, the words leave a bitter taste in her mouth, even more so because she knows he won't likely follow through with it.

"That's suicide mission Aella. I'm not doing it, that's final." The last two words are categorical, a way for him to officially close the conversation.

"Damn it!"

The theory of it was beautiful really, but Harry thinks in practical and surefire moves he knows won't send him six feet under before his time. Aella, on the other hand, has always relied on her infallible knowledge of astrophysics to enhance her flying experience. She's followed the same motto ever since she stumbled across a quote that inspired her beyond grasp. It goes something like "aviation records don't fall until someone is willing to mortgage the present for the future." And while she would never even entertain the idea of a reckless and immature move, her self-taught philosophy gave her access to a whole world of potential tricks most pilot couldn't even conceptualize.

Aella is in the middle of an attempt at regulating her breathing when she starts noticing the spinning arrow on her altimeter. Her head swiftly tilts to the side to get a brief snapshot of the crimson soil of San Diego's wasteland. They must be pretty far in the land if the upcoming sierra of rocky mounts is anything to go by. That's not what is retaining Aella's attention. No, she's more puzzled by the lack of space between her and the ground, the carrier grazing over pebbly elevations and lorn cactuses.

"Flathatting? That's your idea? Christ Harry, the trees won't save your ass." She figures if he doesn't bother being civil then she should drop her filter too.

"Leave it Aella. Just do your job."

"I'm trying!" She fires back.

"Just trust me on this."

Blank.

"Fuck you Harry, that's a two-way street." She's actually fuming. He had the balls to call her out on trust when he hasn't been returning the same courtesy. If she had the time to worry further about it now, Aella would be questioning if coming to Top Gun and partnering with Harry was really a life-changing opportunity. So far, she's had very few upgrades from the grim world she's been privy too.

"There's a split trail 3 miles ahead on the left." She was under the impression they'd stop talking in tacit consent but the rasp of Harry's voice through her headphones is no mirage. "I can lose him there. Can you read the positions please?"

She's tempted to give him the silent treatment but the fervid pilot in her wouldn't let her jeopardize a mission on such petty grounds. At least he was polite about his request this time. "He's closing on 300, nose up. Going by 800 knots."

"Roger that" Probably the closest thing to a thank you she'll get from him.

They're currently speeding through a gorge, tall cliffs of maroon stone fencing them on either side. Aella starts to question Harry's move as it restrains their room for maneuver but then he makes an extremely obtuse left turn and she gets it. The intimidating mount on their left actually split into two narrow canyons. At the speed they were going, one is most likely to take the second channel whose angle isn't as sharp as the one Harry chose. Only someone with previous knowledge of the surroundings would know how to successfully make that turn. It's then Aella realizes Harry has more insight on the environs than he lets on. His trick proves to be conclusive as Berks falls into the trap and enters the other passage.

"He's out."Aella simply confirms, before Harry veers upwards and back towards the base.

"Hunky-Dory." He utters in the same whispered manner he used before their take-off. "Now let's bug the fuck outta here."

The moment she has her two feet on the tarmac, Aella is scurrying over to a furious-looking Harry. Nostrils flaring, daggers in the eyes, they're both squaring their shoulders once nose to nose, or rather nose to collarbone. She doesn't give him the time to even part his lips before she's jabbing her pointer finger at his taunt chest.

"You prick! I got better things to do than to fill some empty space at the back of your stupid plane. If you don't want my insight you can shove it where the sun doesn't shine."

"Insight? You call that insight?!" He starts laughing jeeringly. "'s fuckin' madness is what it was. I can't believe I passed the mission with someone like you!" Harry doesn't even care to temper his disdain anymore. He's seen enough to make up his mind about her. He doesn't like her. Doesn't want to find out about the person inside because he doesn't like the pilot that she is. It reminds him to much of futile losses and irreparable hurt.

"Someone like me?" Aella's face turns sour and if it didn't make her look so sentimental, her eyes would be hosting a few pearls. She really thought he wasn't like those sexist jerks back home. Maybe not the warmest but at least respectful of her talent enough to appreciate her place in the Navy. Now she hates herself for entertaining the fantasy of ever having an ally flying by her side. "You're an asshole Harry, and certainly no better than Rex." Then before he can reply she storms off, too angered not to lose her wits.

And really, her last words don't sit well with Harry, because he knows she's not referring to the jerk's flying skills.

[redcrossroads]

Alone Is In The Past Family Is Now

@plaidsleep I’m your secret santa for @dgmsecretsanta2k19! Your prompts were a godsend and I hope you’ll enjoy what I wrote. I wish you a Merry Christmas and hope you’ll have fun reading this~.

Also, lots of gratitude for the wonderful team hosting this event! Happy holidays everyone!

Summary: It’s Wisely’s first Christmas with his family since reincarnating. They’re a noisy bunch of eccentrics and while he loves them he’s not a fan of enduring the Christmas party Sheryl will force them to attend. Having accepted his fate as he doesn’t find any excuses believable enough to explain his absence, he doesn’t expect Tyki to kidnap him straight out of bed first thing in the morning.

„What’s the point of this?”

Snow crunching underneath his boots Wisely makes a face when smoke is blown into his face. The smell of tabaco is sharp in his nose, his sense dialed up quite a notch due to his genes. Another sharp breeze of icy wind ruffles his hair and he mourns the loss of his scarf shielding his forehead from the cold in this weather.

“Can’t you guess, Mister Lack of Privacy?”

“I don’t need to guess.”

He huffs as he tugs his hands into his pockets. Eying the people pushing past them with thin veiled annoyance. The thoughts tumbling inside the minds of these simpletons are nothing but a headache in the making. Huddling a step closer to the Tyki in hope of distancing himself from the on slaughter of people Wisely lets his lips curl into a smirk as he glances up at the man busy sucking smoke into his lungs.

“It’s not like you’re difficult to read. Your mind is an open book to everybody willing to take a look with barely any words written on the pages.”

“Careful now. I’m not above leaving you out here to fend for yourself.”

It’s a half-hearted warning at best. But it’s one Wisely choses to heed for once. After all the trouble the man went through to get him up and dressed for the weather without anyone noticing them sneaking away for the day when Sheryl would be out for blood since they would miss the Christmas ball he’s planned is enough of a gesture of kindness to mind his manners for now.

He’s grateful for every second he’s away from all the horrid Christmas singing Road will force the family to take part in. Itchy clothing far too formal for his tastes and Sheryl insisting he’d dance with Road to represent the family while ignoring the deafening noise of the upper class and the girls making eyes at him.

Tyki could have went out without him in the first place. Which of course doesn’t mean Wisely won’t be throwing him under the buss if his adoptive father comes looking. Or worse if Road came looking for them. Shuddering at the thought of what would be another tantrum of the painful sort, he tries to block out these thoughts.

“Are you cold?”

Tyki blinks, glancing down at him with outright amusement tugging up the corners of his mouth. The cigarette hangs between his lips, burning away in the cold winter air.

“No, just thought of what Road will do when she finds out we went to the Christmas market without her.”

Wisely grins when Tyki ends up choking on an inhale of smoke, thumping him on the back. He gets a glower in return before an arm pulls him closer around the shoulders, pulling him into a headlock as Tyki rubs his knuckles viciously over his head. He yelps in protest at the rough treatment of his hair, feeling the sting of his scalp.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

“Not so funny now, is it genius?”

Tyki drawls out as he lets up with his fist. The smug grin on his pale face tinted with blotches of pink from the cold is an irritating thing to see.

“Didn’t see that coming, huh?”

“Bugger off!”

Puffing out his cheeks Wisely scowls. The arm settling loosely around his shoulders is a comfortable weight but he has half a mind to shrug it off to show his displeasure. He glares at the people daring to send them dirty looks, wishing he could melt what little amount of brain they had without attracting attention.

“Next time I’m going to blurt out your embarrassing thoughts to everybody at the dinner table. Every single one. No matter how vile or dirty they are.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’m not ashamed by pleasure.”

Tyki winks, taking out his cigarette before flicking it into the snow.

“I’ll tell Desire you love him. I wonder how he would react if I tell him how much his little brother thinks about getting his hugs—”

Tyki’s smile slips from his face. Dread in its former place. “You wouldn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

Wisely’s grin is full of teeth. Tyki shakes his head, shuddering at the thought as he steers them into another direction. They take the left turn at the cross road, the Christmas lights getting brighter as decoration fills up the streets beyond the single lights they passed.

Ribbons of red hung upon small trees lining up the sidewalk into the market place. Ornaments of golden paper hung from the branches, flickering in the bright lights of the street lamp. A large tree stood in the middle of the place with a golden star at the top and little angels of wax fastened upon the pine needles. The bustling of people marching from one booth to another made the place seem crowded. Children were laughing, running around while throwing snow as they sung off-key Christmas songs and lullabies to the wind. The smell of sweetness coming from the central is drawing people in like moths to a flame.

Tyki lights up another cigarette.

“I’d say stay close to me so you don’t get lost but I doubt I’d be able to lose you with what you’re wearing.”

Frowning as he glanced down at his outfit Wisely raised a brow.

„Got a problem?“

„No,“

Tyki makes a face, lips curling as he blows out a cloud of smoke into the air.

“As long as I don’t have to wear one. I’m all for not giving a shit about appearances but that’s where I draw a line.”

“You’re just jealous the Earl made mine with more care than yours.”

The sweater is a deep forest green, knitted by the Earl. In the middle of the chest is a replica of his demon eye in monochrome colors while small pieces of glitter were stuck onto the center. It’s warm and comfortable and it’s the first piece of clothing made for him by another person.

He wears it with pride.

“It’s hideous.” Tyki says, disgust wrinkling his nose and Wisely sticks out his tongue as they observe the people wandering about.

“It’s perfect.”

He’d never make the Earl sad by refusing to wear his gifts. The others ought to follow his example. It’s not as if the twins could look any more horrid with their makeup than they do now.

“Fine, fine.”

Flicking away ash as he draws his arm away from Wisely’s shoulder to brush his hair away from his face with his free hand, Tyki holds out his hand.

“Let’s go. We can’t stay in one place for long.”

“Really?”

Letting out a sigh Wisely narrows his eyes at the offered hand but takes it into his own nonetheless. Lean fingers curl around his own with surprising strength before their joint hands are tugged into the pocket of Tyki’s coat to keep them warm.

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re my nephew. Can’t have you running off now, can I?”

Not waiting for an answer Tyki drags him towards the masses of noisy people buzzing around not unlike a stingy wasp out for a fight. Wisely scowls as people brush past him, their shoulders nudging him to make space for themselves. Giving them the evil eye, he tries to block out the mindless noise.

“We should buy some sweets for Road.”

He offers, squinting at one of the booths selling candy. Knowing her it’d make little difference to the crime they committed in not taking her along with them but her temper tantrum of violence would be softened a bit with the peace offering. Perhaps enough bribery will get the job of distraction done and he’ll manage to make it to the Earl’s bed to hide for a nap.

“Good thinking. I knew I took you along for a reason.”

The praise falls flat in the face of teasing. Not appreciating being treated like a dog Wisely digs his nails into Tyki’s palm hidden from view and relishes in the wince the man gives.

“More like dragged me straight out of bed to kidnap me.”

He mumbles into his scarf warped around his neck instead of his head knowing a turban would attract too many stares in the streets.

People would take a second glance at that, but not at a starving child begging in the streets.

Humans really are the worst sort of sinners.

His line of thought is interrupted as Tyki rolls his eyes, tugging him to stand in line at one of the booths. The chatter around them fades into static noise as he focuses his attention on Tyki’s voice.

“By the time you managed to get your ass out of bed Sheryl would be breathing down our neck.”

“That didn’t mean you had to yell to wake me up.”

The perks of having a soundproof room for his headaches could also be a curse. Wisely’s not planning on letting go of that. As soon as the holidays are over, he’ll get revenge.

“Be thankful I didn’t pour water over your head.”

Wisely opens his mouth to reply but their conversation is cut short as they’re at the front of the line. Tyki buys a variety of sweets, from chocolates to Christmas crackers and roasted almonds and cookies.

“Do you want anything?”

“Not from here.”

The plump man behind the counter twitches at his rudeness but doesn’t comment on it as Tyki stuffs the package of sweets into his other pocket and walks off with him in tow.

Snow beings to fall and the children near them stopping in their giggling to shriek in excitement.

Wisely grimaces at the sound.

“C’mon, let me treat you to some hot chocolate.”

Tyki seems to notice his worsening mood and the beginning of the headache forming. Offering no protest Wisely finds himself holding a steaming cup of pure sweetness as the woman behind the counter of another booth coos at the apparent act of kindness.

“Is that your son?”

“Afraid not, Miss. He’s my nephew.”

Tyki sighs as he crushes the butt of his cigarette with his boot, looking like he mourns the loss of nicotine on his tongue. Wisely scowls, sullenly sipping on his drink as he watches Tyki lean against the counter to chat up the woman.

Cupping both hands around the hot cup, he buries his nose into his scarf, narrowing his eyes in impatience.

He manages another five minutes as he lets the chocolate coat his tongue and chase away the chill of winter before the high sound the woman produces with her laughter grates on his nerves and he clears his throat. The snow flakes landing inside his cup make the appeal of a hot drink tasteless.

“You’re wasting your time, uncle, not only is she married and thinking about cheating on her husband, she’s also got another guy on the side. I doubt you’d want to catch the disease she’s worrying about either.”

“Why you little—”

“Alright! That’s enough, let’s go.”

Tyki spins him around, taking his shoulders before shoving him as far from the spluttering women yelling curses their way as he can. Cup flying from his hands Wisely lets himself be pushed along a safe distance until he digs in his heels.

“You’re annoying when you’re grumpy.”

“Your flirting is tacky. You could have done that at the party as well. But you dragged me out into the cold with the promise of a good time. All I see are noisy brats.”

Tyki frowns, still holding him at the shoulders but facing him now. They ignore the curious glances from the passersby with ease. His brows furrowing as he looms close before he nods and pulls away.

“Do you have the medicine from the Earl with you?”

“No,”

Wisely whines, the throbbing of his skull not easing up with all the noise around. He tugs at Tyki’s coat sleeve.

“You dragged me out the door before I could get them.”

It’s no secret he’s prone to headaches with his demon eye. But unlike last time, this one came didn’t come from a fight but from an overload of mindless information spinning around his ears. The cold doesn’t help. He wants his bed, warm and save and quiet. Maybe with the Earl’s squishy form hugging him close. It’s been far too long since he’s had this family, so he’s not ashamed off his neediness.

Even if it can be a bit too much from time to time. He’s getting used to the new personalities trying not to get them mixed up with the old ones he knows and the fact he was the last to join the party of their siblinghood stings inside his chest.

“I guess this time I’ll take the blame. Is there anything I can do?”

While the question sounds exasperated Tyki’s eyes are a soft amber, the frown on his face full of barely concealed concern as he reaches out to brush off the snow on his shoulders and head. Hands running through his hair, gently messaging the scalp, it does little to help with the sharp pang of pain inside his mind.

“Got the short end of the stick as the only Noah likely to suffer from headaches of all things.”

“—Then again, maybe I should’ve asked before I dragged him along.”

“Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise…”

“…wanted him to have a good time.”

“Instead of hiding away and boring himself to death at some sleazy party—”

“Can’t stay holed up in his room all the time—”

“Not really. I’ll let you know if I can think of something that’ll work other than the Earl’s medicine.”

He offers a wry smile, cheeks flushing a bit at the thoughts he’s read. Warmth chases away the biting cold and gratitude blooms in his chest at the thought of no longer having to spent his time rotting away on the streets. Tyki blinks at the change in his mood, narrowing his eyes before he grins.

Wisely startles as he’s pulled along the streets with no warning. They leave the Christmas market behind in favor of Tyki dragging him along and for a moment, he thinks Tyki must have seen Road or another member of the family to flee at such a quick pace.

It’s not the case when Tyki takes a sharp turn after several streets, drags him forward and trips him face first into a pile of snow.

“Cold things can cure headaches, don’t they?”

Throwing a snowball in Tyki’s laughing face is Wisely’s answer. His laughter is cut off as he gets a mouthful of snow and Wisely doesn’t hesitate in scooping up another one to hurl it at the man. It hits him in the throat. Tyki hisses at the sharp sting of frost before he offers a feral grin.

“You’re going to regret that.”

It’s a threat and the next snowball Wisely throws goes straight through the man.

“Shit.”

Tyki chuckles, eyes gleaming as they crinkle with mischief. A grin stretches across his face from ear to ear and Wisely flinches at the sight.

“Oh yes. Let’s see how this will work out for you, smartass.”

“Hold on, that’s cheating!”

Wisely is running across the open field they managed to find, scarf becoming loose and flying over one shoulder in the breeze. Warm puffs of air cloud his vision as he pants from the exercise, cursing as he hears the crunching of footsteps in the snow behind him come near.

“Too bad for you I’m an expert cheater.”

Tyki shouts, tackling him into the snow. Wisely shrieks as he faceplants into the coldness. Tyki’s weight on his back is heavy and warm and no matter how hard Wisely buckles and tries to crawl away the man doesn’t move an inch. He kicks out when a hand dumps snow on his head, rubbing it in as his face is pressed onto the ground.

“Get off me!”

“Or what?”

Good question. Wisely grunts as snow slides down on his back.

“I’ll make your head explode!”

Tyki pauses. His voice is uncertain when he speaks and Wisely doesn’t have to try to read his thought to deduce what he’s thinking.

The weight on his back shifts nervously. “Can you actually do that?”

“Are you willing to find out?”

He spits out through clenched teeth, lashing out with a fist. He gets Tyki right in the side of his throat. The man chokes, hands flying up to shield his neck as he topples off of Wisely’s back to the side. Rolling over, so he’s lying on his back he waits until Tyki’s wheezing for air is down to normal breathing again.

Minutes pass as they lay in the snow, letting it soak through their ruined coats. Over their heads is a blanket of grey, shielding what little sun might’ve shined through the dark clouds from sight. Snow continues to drift to earth, melting upon making contact with their skin as they breath invisible clouds of hot air into the early morning breeze. Their chests rising with each beat of their former excitement of a chase.

Wisely nudges Tyki’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

Tyki asks, pursing his lips as he turns his head. His hair is curling at the edges, framing his face in a wild fashion from the row they had. Pale skin pink and glossy from the water of melted snow he looks like a drowned cat with the way he blinks the flakes from his eyes, some clinging to his hair.

There’s a limit to obviousness…and you’ve surpassed it Joyd.

“I’m not spelling it out for you if you can’t figure it out yourself.”

Sitting up Wisely brushes the snow from his clothes. His sweater and coat clings to his back and the sensation of drenched clothes on his skin is disgusting. He wrinkles his nose as he stands.

“Not sharing what you know kind of makes you useless.”

Tyki grumbles as he picks himself up but there’s no bite behind his words.

“Sheryl will have a fit when he sees us like this.”

“I hope you haven’t crushed the candy for Road in your fall. She won’t be pleased if you did.”

Tyki blanches, checking his pockets with an urgency lacking all of his fine grace. Wisely smirks when the cursing starts, watching the man pick out crumbles of cookies with a look of pure terror on his face.

“Shit. I’ve got no money left.”

“That’s too bad. Good luck in telling her what happened.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he rushes down the street. He ignores Tyki’s shouting as he runs back to the main street, pushing past the people with barely a glance to see if Tyki is following.

His priority is getting to safety. His advantage is he knows Desire will look for Joyd first, which will give him additional time to make it to the Earl’s bed. A safe heaven where no fighting shall take place. An unspoken rule nobody dared to break.

Too bad Tyki won’t make it there in time.

Hours later under the bright lights of Desire’s over the top decorations with Road in his arms swaying to the beat of one of the cheesy Christmas songs she’s taken a liking to, red dress swaying from side to side, he sees Tyki walk in with a suit. His face twists into a grimace when Road winks and he scurries out of sight. Despite hating the formal clothes he wears, the people chattering around him, the stuffy hot air and the loudness of the obnoxious orchesta shattering his eardrums Wisely finds himself smiling.

“What’s up with that? You hate parties.”

Road’s eyes are brighter than the lights illuminating the room, a thing only happiness manages to capture and bring forth on her face. Wisely shrugs, smile stuck to his face as he sighs.

“Don’t make me answer questions you already know the answer to. It’s exhausting and you’re the only one here who knows anything aside from me. Playing dumb is more Joyd’s thing.”

“Already choose a favorite, I see.”

Road chuckles, lips twisting into a smirk that has him fearing she’ll stomp on his feet despite having the ability to see it coming.

“Tyki is rather endearing. I’m sure he’ll be willing to sneak away with you as soon as Daddy will leave him out of sight. I might be willing to distract him for you.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Wisely.”

She chides as the music comes to a stop. Not giving him the chance to make a choice she drags him away from the dance floor, heels clacking with every step.

“I like seeing you happy. Family is special, you know?”

Standing on her tip toes, she plants a kiss on his cheek leaving a bright red mark before she skips ahead and clings to Sheryl’s arm. Tyki glances up and when their eyes meet Wisely rubs at his forehead, gesturing towards the double doors across the room with his head and gets a grin in return.

“Come Daddy, dance with me! Wisely isn’t feeling well!”

“Of course, my dear!”

Road’s a horrible liar, Wisely thinks fondly as Tyki plays along and they flee out the double doors so he might get some fresh air to feel better.

In the last few years he’s never felt happier.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

See You in New York (part two)

A/N: The two week wait to see you again is up and Logan is thrilled to be in the Big Apple with you. (and I’m thrilled to write about it.) This boy’s got it bad. And no one’s going to feel unkissed after this part. 

Word Count: 5,220

*part one and the intro to this series services no longer required are available on my masterlist*

The alarm blared on the bedside table, bright red numbers flashing 5:45 am. Normally, he’d turn his alarm off on the weekends, enjoying the opportunity to sleep in, rolling in the sheets and pulling them up over his head to guard his closed eyes from the rising sun. But on Saturday, his first morning in New York, Logan was lying in bed, awake and alert a full twelve minutes before the buzzer sounded. City noise could be heard through the thick window panes, even up at the penthouse level. Buses, taxis and delivery vans crawled across the asphalt below, engines groaning and horns honking, trying to dislodge themselves from the traffic that had already begun to clog up the roads.  Wide awake in the city that never sleeps, Logan sighed to himself. An involuntary smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and he laughed, dragging his palm over his face. I’m in deep trouble.

He leaned over onto his side and silenced the alarm, grabbing the remote that controlled the drapes. Sitting up against the oversized pillows, he pressed the button that operated window coverings and watched as they slid open, the pleats sweeping the hardwood floor as the bright white morning light came into the room. Logan looked out over the city- your city- and excitement rose in his chest all over again at the thought of spending so much time with you. It was the same wave of adrenaline that he got when he boarded the plane at LAX, when he stepped off of it at LaGuardia, and when his lips finally touched yours, the faint flavor of your vanilla coffee creamer teasing his tongue. He ran it over his bottom lip as though he could still feel yours pressed there, and tossed the remote into the down duvet where it disappeared in a cloud of white blankets and sheets with a soft thud. Deep, deep trouble. 

Combing his hand through his hair, Logan blew out a breath, recalling the way you wound your fingers through it the night before. In the two weeks since you’d left California, Logan had spent more and more time thinking about you and how it would feel to finally get you as close as he wanted, to finally fill his hands with your curves and cover your lips with his. He thought about what it would be like to have someone in his arms that actually cared about him; someone who he’d admitted that he was falling for. Falling hard and fast. He thought about how you were the first person he’d allowed himself to think about this way.

Sitting up in bed, he pulled the sheets back to swing his legs over the side, planting his feet on the plush area rug. His hair fell free over his forehead as he stood, acknowledging the slight tenting in his boxer briefs with a shake of his head and a laughing sigh. Hard and fast alright. He gingerly strode over to his luggage and rifled through it to find a pair of loose fitting black basketball shorts and a dark gray tee. He pulled them on and grabbed a pair of socks and his sneakers, his phone, earbuds and room key, and headed for the gym to work off some of his excitement.  

But after two sets of push ups, dips, crunches and mountain climbers, Logan found that his morning workout routine was only fueling his thoughts. Every time he bent his elbows to 90 degrees, he saw your smile as you looked sideways at him, walking through the airport. Each time he lifted himself, locking his arms, he felt your forearm pressed against his, your fingers twined together. He recounted the entire evening with every curl, lift and press; your hand in his as you waited at baggage claim, the weight and warmth of it traveling through his veins and finding its way to his heart, the easy, comfortable way you chatted about your day and asked questions about his flight as though this were the hundredth time you’d met him at the arrivals gate. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel, grinning like a fool in the mirror as he replayed the moment that he told you he’d changed his reservation from the Four Seasons downtown to the Conrad, right in The Battery.

..  .. ..  .. ..  

“Alright, that all your luggage?” You motioned to the carry-on he had on his shoulder as well as the small, sleek black hard shell suitcase equipped with wheels and a pull handle, taking your phone from your pocket and Logan nodded. “I’ll call a ride. Four Seasons, right?” You hadn’t looked up from the app, tapping buttons to enter the destination when his hand covered your screen, fingers closing around your phone.

“Conrad,” he corrected you, smirk lifting one side of his mouth before his tongue came out to glide over his lips. He watched your eyes widen, delighting in the surprise that his change of plans had put there. “It’s closer. Closer to you, and you’re why I’m here. Don’t wanna sit in traffic for half an hour every time I’m gonna see you.” Don’t want to waste a second.

You bit your bottom lip before breaking into a smile, your eyes locked on his. “Good call, Delos,” you said, winking at him and pulling your phone back from his grasp to enter the new destination. You finalized the ride order and shoved your phone back in your pocket. “ETA says 5 minutes,” you told him, “We should head towards the pick-up spot.”

“After you,” he answered, trailing his suitcase behind him as you started walking. He reached for your hand with his free one, feeling your startled jump as he took it, enjoying the way your palm melded with his and the little tug you gave him.

“Oh, by the way,” you looked sideways at him as he fell into step next to you. He watched as the airflow from the pressurized doors that lead outside lifted a few strands of your hair as you walked through them, your fingers flying up to tuck it back into place. “Cynthia approved my time off request for Monday.” That’s good…because I have plans for you on Monday. Logan squeezed your hand as you continued.  “I stayed late today, finished up a few reports, switched some things on my schedule…but I know it’s your last day here and,” you shrugged, coming to a stop along the sidewalk where the designated Uber pick-up sign indicated. It’s not my last day anymore but I’ll take all the time I can get. “I wanted to make the most of it. Make the most of my time,” you rose up on your toes to meet his lips with yours and it was his turn to be caught off guard. “With you.” You ran your fingers through his hair before dropping flat to your feet again.

Logan caught your hand on its way back to your side, kissing your palm and grinning against your skin. “Good,” he said. Cause I want every minute. “More time for this.” Setting his suitcase down and letting the carry-on slump off of his shoulder to sit on top of the larger luggage, he slid one hand around to the back of your neck, right at the base of your skull. The other pulled your hand until your chest was pressed against his, releasing his grip as your palm landed on his hip. The city lights blinked and flashed, neons in every color, arrows and marquis highlighting restaurants, theatres, businesses and attractions, the sounds of cars and crowds filling the night. But it all faded as Logan kissed you for a second time, feeling you respond with just as much hunger. He’d kissed countless sets of lips, held innumerable bodies close to his, shared breath with men and women, humans and Hosts. But never had it been as thrilling, as satisfying, as right as it felt with you. Never had anyone kissed him back with anything more than lust or their own personal pleasure on their mind. But you’d spent six months getting to know him on a much deeper level than any of his former flings, and when you kissed him he felt a rush that was entirely new to him. This time he let both of his hands frame your face as his lips parted yours, tongue slipping into your mouth, taking it further than the first one had gone. It was next to impossible, but he stopped himself again from letting it progress passed the point of decency, even though he was certain he’d just found the last addiction he’d ever be at the mercy of. Take it slow, Delos, he reminded himself as he exhaled through his nose and peeled himself away from you. “More time to get to know you,” he said against your lips. Every part, every inch.

You sighed, dreamily. “More of that sounds good to me, Logan,” you leaned into his shoulder as his arm came around you, and he was again struck by how different it felt to have you this close to him after keeping you at such a distance for so long.

The urban symphony of screeching brakes, wailing sirens and groaning bus engines picked back up as a black sedan pulled up right in front of where you were standing. You confirmed that it was your ride, the driver hopping out and hurrying around to take Logan’s bags, stowing them in the trunk. Logan opened the back door for you, his hand automatically going to your elbow to help you in. You scooted across the seat as he got in next to you, his arm going around your shoulders to bring you close again as you beamed at him. Can’t get enough of that.

Once the driver had confirmed your destination and made the obligatory small talk, he turned the radio up a few notches and left the two of you in peace for the rest of the 38 minute drive through Manhattan. You looked over at him, and even though it was almost 10pm, he saw the shine in your eyes as you smiled, cutting through the darkness. “Hey,” you said softly, “I’m really glad you’re here, Logan.”

He felt his heart flip, a warm wave crashing through his chest, and he almost laughed at himself for how easily you affected him. “Me too,” he trailed his fingers up and down your tricep, soaking up every bit of contact that he could. “I could barely concentrate in my meetings this morning…almost cancelled them to get here sooner.” But I changed my travel plans enough already.

You blew out a laugh with a playful role of your eyes. “I’m sure whoever the meeting was with was glad that you didn’t cancel.”

He wrinkled his nose and curled his upper lip. “It was just a few other executives, different divisions. Can’t stand most of them to be honest with you.”

You reached up to touch the tip of his nose and he relaxed, the look of disgust vanishing under your touch. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Only sometimes,” he made to bite your finger as you laughed again, giving him a light smack on the arm. Only when it comes to you.  

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand, concealing a small yawn, grinning through it and apologizing. “C’mon, you’re not being a buzzkill already, are you?” He teased, turning to tuck the bridge of his nose against your temple before dragging it up until he replaced it with his lips, leaving a light peck there. The scent of your hair nearly overwhelmed him, and he took advantage of your yawn to inhale deeply.

“Some of us aren’t on West Coast Time, Delos, and some of us have been up since before the sun,” you reminded him, swallowing another yawn. Lips pressed together, you were determined not to let it out. Logan smiled, feeling his eyes shrink behind his cheeks. 

“Well I won’t keep you out too late tonight, promise.” Tomorrow though, that’s another story. “Think you can make it through a nightcap, killjoy?” 

Before you could answer, another yawn broke free pulling a genuine laugh from Logan that you joined in on once you’d sucked up more oxygen. “Yeah,” you nodded through your laughter. “Yeah I think I can stick it out.”

“What a trooper.”  

..  .. ..  .. ..  

After an hour in the gym, Logan headed back upstairs, sweat soaked towel slung around his neck and over both shoulders. The lobby was relatively quiet, just a few front desk employees and one or two exhausted souls on the hunt for coffee. Logan nodded and offered a polite “Good morning” to the few people that he passed as he made his way to the elevator. As he reached for the button to bring him to the penthouse level, the sound of high heels clicking against the floor caught his ear, followed by a frantic female voice.

“Wait! Hold it, please!”

Logan quickly pressed the hold button to suspend the doors as the owner of the voice came around the corner and into view. She was young: mid-twenties, average height and a slim waist with curves above and below it. Her red lips were perfectly painted, wavy hair swept off to one shoulder to show off a stunning pair of diamond stud earrings. Wearing a tight blue pencil skirt with a sheer white top and toting a leather briefcase, it was clear that she was dressed for work. On a Saturday… that’s dedication. She spilled into the elevator, nearly out of breath from her sprint through the lobby, and stopped breathing altogether when she laid her eyes on Logan.

“Oh!” She squeaked in surprise, gaze trailing up his long frame. “Thank you, I-“ she stuttered, openly staring as her eyes traveled up to his chest and the outline of the muscles that were visible beneath his shirt. “I’m running late and waiting for the elevator would…” she blew out a breath that turned into a nervous laugh. “You saved me!”

Damsel in distress. Logan had her pegged the moment he heard her heels down the hall, but her dramatics and the wide eyed way she was regarding him like some white knight in a fairy tale confirmed his diagnosis. “Don’t mention it,” he said with a smile, despite the inward roll of his eyes. “What floor?” He pointed to the circular buttons, the 15 already lit up.

Her eyes flicked to the keypad, noticing which floor he’d selected. “Twelve please,” she licked her lips and smiled while Logan nodded and pressed the number 12. “Thanks,” she said, smoothing her skirt out, hands lingering longer than necessary on her hips as she did. The elevator car started to move and Logan adjusted his stance to accommodate the shift in balance, the damsel reaching for the hand rail, just an inch or so shy of where his hand was. “I have this meeting this morning for a case I’m working on. I’m really nervous about it, I’m new to the office and I want to do everything right.” She batted her long lashes and pressed her lips together to plump them. Trying too hard isn’t the way to do things right. “Left my laptop plugged in to charge in my room and, well… if you hadn’t stopped the elevator, I’d probably miss my meeting and,” she sighed, another half laugh. “Anyway, I’m Kylie,” she stuck her hand out as she introduced herself.

“Logan, nice to meet you,” he took her hand and shook it once, immediately letting go even though she kept his palm in hers for a fraction longer. This elevator can’t move quickly enough. “Good luck with your meeting, Kylie.” He gave her a closed lipped smile as the lights above the door showed floor 8-9-10.

“Thanks,” she leaned against the railing, her shirtsleeve brushing against his arm. He avoided contact by gripping the towel around his neck, eyes darting up to the numbers. Let’s go, come on. The old Logan would have either told her to fuck off or pressed the stop button and fucked her right there between the 11th and 12th floors. But after working with you to improve his image, he found that the old Logan wasn’t who he wanted to be anymore, even if the niceties were sometimes inconvenient. “Hey, maybe I’ll see you around, Logan. Maybe we can get a drink later tonight after my meetings?” The door slid open but she didn’t move, just blinked at him as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

Logan cleared his throat. Absolutely fucking not. “I’m actually seeing someone, so I’m going to have to pass on that drink. But thanks for the offer. Have a nice day.” He kept his lips in a firm line as he looked from her to the open doors. Reluctantly, she returned the sentiment and exited the elevator, shooting him one last look over her shoulder. The doors closed leaving Logan alone again and he sighed, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, could she be more desperate?” he mumbled to himself, half amused with Kylie’s clear attempts to get in his pants, half amused with how much he’d changed. The doors opened again on the 15th floor and he exited, still shaking his head.

He let himself back into his room, setting his card key down on the small coffee table in the sitting area before heading for the shower. He tossed the sweaty towel on the bathroom floor, letting it smack against the tile as he peeled his gym clothes off and kicked them off to the side. Logan reached into the stall to turn on the water, and waited a few seconds for it to heat up before stepping under the rainfall showerhead. He stretched his back until he felt a small pop with the release of a knot, then stepped into the stall, the warm water washing away the sweat and all remaining residue of the elevator interaction with Kylie. As the droplets ran between his shoulder blades and soaked his hair, his thoughts returned again to you and the events of the previous night.

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

The driver pulled up in front of the impressive red brick building, the chrome colored marquis and large letters boasting the hotel’s name vibrantly lit against the night. Logan got out of the car first, offering you his hand as the driver scurried to the trunk to grab his bags. Your fingers were light on his palm as he helped you out onto the sidewalk, giving you a grin as you closed the car door behind you. “Thanks,” you said, mirroring his grin. He answered by bringing your hand to his lips with a wink as the driver set his luggage on the curb.

Logan reluctantly pulled his focus from you and turned to the driver, pulling a $50 bill out of his wallet and handing it to the wide eyed man who sputtered with gratitude before getting back into his vehicle. He turned back to you, offering his hand again, linking his fingers with yours. “Shall we?” He cocked his head towards the doors and you nodded as he picked up his bags. A uniformed employee sprang to open the doors for the two of you, welcoming you to The Conrad, and Logan felt a rush of excitement, the whole trip becoming more real now that he was inside the hotel with you by his side. He turned to face you, dropping your hand and placing both of his on your shoulders, letting them run down your arms. “I’m gonna go check in and get rid of these,” he shrugged towards the bag on his shoulder and the one at his feet. “Why don’t you wait for me at the bar, and I’ll be right there.”

“Sounds good, Logan, see you in a minute,” you turned to head for the stairs that lead up to the bar but he pulled your wrist, spinning you back into him and causing a tingling laugh to spill from your soul and your free hand to fall to his chest. It brightened his heart.

“I’ll be quick,” he promised, voice low as he stroked the inside of your wrist with the pads of his fingers, locking his eyes on yours. Now that he could look at you the way he wanted, could touch you and feel your body against his own, could intoxicate himself with your lips and tongue, he didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not even for a few minutes. But he hadn’t told you about his extended stay yet, and he wanted it to be a surprise so he let go of your wrist and swallowed as he watched you head towards the staircase before making his way to the front desk for check-in.  He turned his bags over to the bellhop, along with another fifty from his wallet before following in the direction you’d just gone in.

Atrio, the hotel bar, was situated a few floors up, and he took the stairs two at a time in some places, long legs trying to get him back to you as quickly as possible. As he reached the entry, he undid the button on his jacket and his focus fell on you. You were sitting at the bar, your back turned to the entrance, and he took a moment to drink in the sight of you beneath the low lights. He saw your shoulders shake as you laughed at something the bartender said, the man passing two darkly colored cocktails to you as you thanked him. You stirred one with the small plastic garnish skewer as you turned slowly towards where he stood, smile brightening your face with more light than the bulbs hanging overhead. Logan’s heart beat out of rhythm as he walked over to you. This is really happening. We’re really… this is real. Miraculously, he kept completely cool, pulling out the chair beside you and leaning in to leave a quick kiss to your cheek. “Hey, stranger,” he said. “You come here often?”

You laughed as he sat down, passing him his drink. “Once before, but I’ve never seen you here.” Biting your lip you looked up at him through your lashes. “Guess it’s my lucky night.” You couldn’t keep up the façade any longer, breaking into a laugh that curved your lips around the sound.  

Logan took the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours against the cool rim of the glass. “Nah, I’m the lucky one,” he said, lifting his glass. “To New York,” he toasted. To you.

“New York,” you said, clinking your glass to his and taking a sip.

Logan did the same, the rich flavor of bourbon mixing with berries, mint and a slight hint of almond. That’s fantastic. “What are we drinking?” he asked you.

“In honor of your change in reservations,” you pointed to the menu at the cocktail labeled The Battery and Logan chuckled.  

“How apropos,” he responded. “Hope you didn’t mind that I didn’t tell you about the change in plans,” he shrugged. “Wanted to surprise you.” I have a few more up my sleeve, too.

“It’s okay, Logan, I like surprises…good ones,” you clarified and he chuckled again.

“Noted.” That’s one thing I didn’t know before today. “So, I was thinking,” you set your drink down on the square napkin in front of you, eyes on him and arms folded over the bar top. “You know a lot more about me than I know about you.” You nodded, raising your eyebrow. “Well I wanna change that, level the playing field so to speak.” You laughed with a small shake of your head. “What? You got a whole file on me and all my secrets,” he raised his glass to his lips, eyeing you over the top of it. “I wanna know you as well as you know me.” And then some.     

“Seems fair, Delos,” you turned in your seat so that your body was squared with him and perpendicular to the bar. “But let’s make it fun.” Your eyes twinkled mischievously and he had to hold back a groan at the thought of how much fun he wanted to have with you. “I’ll tell you three things about me, and you tell me which one is a lie.”

“Alright,” Logan ran his bottom teeth along his lip. “Let her rip.” He took another sip of his drink as you thoughtfully looked up at the ceiling, trying to come up with your three statements.

“Okay, got it.” You took a drink, licking the spare drops from your lip, causing Logan to wonder how much better it tasted on your skin. “I have two younger brothers, I’ve never been out of the country, and my favorite holiday is the Fourth of July.” You pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes.

“Really?” Logan sat back in his chair, casually leaning his elbow against the seat. “You’ve never been out of the country?”

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. “That was… how did you…”

Logan laughed. “I’ve always been able to tell when people are lying, and that one was definitely the lie. So what’s your favorite foreign city?”

“Barcelona,” you answered, and he nodded appreciatively, telling you that he loved it there as well. He asked you about your brothers and about your favorite way to celebrate the 4th, both of you taking periodic sips from your drinks.

“Okay, round two,” he said, “try to gimme a hard one this time.”

“A challenge, Delos?” You asked, finishing your beverage. “Alright. Let’s see you figure this one out.” You shook your hair back from your shoulders and he caught the scent of your shampoo on the air. This is already a challenge. He was having a hard time keeping his hands and lips to himself, fighting with himself about taking you upstairs and learning different kinds of things. “I did a triathlon for charity, I broke my hand punching my sister’s ex in the face,” Logan’s eyes lit up in an amused fashion at that one. “And I’m allergic to peanuts.”

“Oof, peanuts, that’s a tough one,” he said, expertly picking one of the truths off without having to think. He eyed you carefully as he finished his drink. “I’m curious what your sister’s ex did to get punched. But you don’t strike me as a swimmer, so the triathlon is out.”

“How are you so good at this?” You laughed, looking down at your empty glasses.

He shrugged. “Just one of my many talents, I guess.”

You rolled your eyes. God I can’t get enough of that. When you were working for him, the roll of your eyes or the suggestion of something he didn’t want to do annoyed him in that it didn’t annoy him at all. And now, he was looking for ways to make you roll your eyes because he liked what it did to him. The bartender came by and asked if you wanted another round.

“What do you think, Logan?” You looked to him for an answer.

Yes. I don’t want the night to end yet. But you yawned again, and he looked down at his watch, the hands pointing towards 12. “As much as I wanna keep picking out your lies,” he scrunched his nose as he smiled. “I think I better get you home before you pass out on the bar.” You smacked his knee as you tried and failed to stifle another yawn. He placed his card on the bar and the bartender took it, running the payment and handing it back to Logan who signed it without looking, leaving a 100% tip.

You stood from your seat and Logan did the same, reaching for your hand the moment that you were both up and out of your chairs. It had only been a few hours, but he was already more used to the feel of your palm pressed to his than he should be. “Can I walk you home?” he asked, “It’s late and-“

You nodded, rising on your toes to kiss him like you had earlier in the night. “What a gentleman,” you said against the corner of his mouth. He grinned and let go of your hand to slip his arm around your waist, leading you out of the bar and back down the mahogany staircase.

Once the two of you stepped outside, Logan turned to you. “You’re gonna have to lead the way here.”

“No problem,” you smiled. “This way,” you said, tilting your head in the direction of the waterfront. “Let’s walk passed the park.”

The way was lined with well-manicured shrubs and a fence, the river visible passed the waterfront park. Lights in shades of pastels in the distance caught Logan’s attention. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

“Oh!” You smiled at him, pressing closer with excitement. “We can go there tomorrow. That’s the Sea Glass carousel, it’s beautiful, one of my favorite things in The Battery. Instead of horses, they’re all fish and the whole thing is encased in glass and… well, you’ll see.”

He smiled and squeezed you closer. “Can’t wait.”

The walk was quick, just a few minutes, and before you knew it you were standing in front of your building. “Well, this is me,” you said, opening your arms wide. Before you could drop them he stepped closer, sliding his arms beneath yours and pulling you into a tight hug.

He could feel your heart beat against his own chest, and the uneven rhythm made his soar. “I’m looking forward to the next few days with you,” he said, one hand sliding up between your shoulder blades, the other pressed to the small of your back. “Thank you, for saying yes.”

“That makes two of us, Logan,” you whispered into his shirt. “And of course I said yes, I…”

He gave a squeeze to cut you off, sensing that you were about to say something a little too serious for the sidewalk. He pressed his lips to the top of your head and rubbed both hands over your back, indicating the end of the embrace. “I’ll see you bright and early, okay? I want to take you for breakfast, I…” he looked down at his shoes before looking back up and meeting your eyes. “You said once that there’s a French Bakery around here that you liked so I looked it up and… Can you meet me there at 8 tomorrow?”

Your shocked expression was more than enough to promise the sweetest dreams. “You remembered…” Of course I did. “Yeah… yeah, I’ll see you at 8. Goodnight, Logan.”

“Goodnight, buzzkill,” he leaned down and gave you a quick kiss. Ending it was the hardest thing he’d done since getting clean, but he did. Tomorrow's gonna be even better. He watched you disappear into your building before turning back towards the hotel. The stars weren’t visible in the sky behind the pollution of the city lights, but he felt them beneath his feet as he headed back to The Conrad. I am in trouble.    

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@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @belladonnarey @ymariejp @obscurilicious @songtoyou @gollyderek @traeumerinwitzhelden @breanime @drinix 

If you’d like to be added or removed just let me know! :) 

[ill-skillsgard]

I’m sorry this is so late, but I hope it’s good enough that you’ll forgive me. Love you bunches, doll, and hope you’ve had a great day! 💜💙💜

She stormed out of the bar and turned the corner, away from curious eyes. So fed up with bullshit and drama and feeling undervalued, she swore this would be the last fucking time he made her cry. Tears of anger, but still...he wouldn’t win again.

“Hey,” a gentle voice spoke up from behind a cloud of smoke. “You okay?”

She dabbed at her eyes and glared into the relative darkness. “No.” She was not about to put up with some random dude hitting on her in an alley, or worse. Not any time, but especially not tonight, and if this guy thought he was going to try anything, he was going to leave without important pieces. She squared her shoulders as his silhouette moved closer, her bravado dropping just a notch when she realized just how tall he was.

But then he stepped into the ring of faint orange light from the lamp high above their heads, and she relaxed a little. She’d seen him a few different nights now, his friends seemingly on the same circuit of clubs as hers. He was hard to miss, and not just because of his height, but because of his intense stare and his high cheekbones that always caught the party lights in just that way, how he looked dangerous one moment and then his smile lit up his face and erased all inklings of anything sinister. He was beautiful, plain and simple.

“Can I help you find someone?” he asked, tossing his cigarette and exhaling into the breeze, waving a hand to help further clear the smoke before he came closer.

She noted how he shoved his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders, carried himself in as non-threatening a way as he possibly could. “Definitely not,” she answered. The only person inside that she knew was the man she’d just dumped. For good, this time. She eyed the stranger. “I’ve seen you around a lot.”

He nodded. “I’ve seen you, too.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Usually arguing with some guy who always checks out other women when he thinks you’re not looking.”

She swallowed. “Yeah. Well. Not anymore.”

He tilted his head. “You gouge his eyes out?”

The absurdity of the question made her burst into unexpected laughter, and then that smile of his softened his features. “No! But only because there were so many witnesses.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Smart woman.” He leaned on his hip against the wall. “I can wait with you for a ride. If you want. Or I can just piss off.” He shrugged a shoulder.

Her bottom lip slid between her teeth and she couldn’t stop staring. “Actually, I...never mind.”

“What?” he urged.

“It’s just...it’s my birthday,” she said faintly. “And it’s been a really shitty day and an even worse night, and if you could just....” She looked away and shook her head. You’ve lost it. You’ve officially lost it.

But he had moved closer, and his fingers lightly brushed her arm. “If I could just what?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “Kiss me?”

He chuckled lowly, and her cheeks burned, but when she turned to go, he stopped her, one long arm across her line of vision, his hand pressed against the brick wall. “Just a kiss?”

She braved a look into his eyes, and what she found there made her shiver. He was still smiling, but it had grown a bit devilish. “What else would you...?”

It was his turn for his eyes to drink her in, and he didn’t seem to feel any shame when that look ran up and down and landed first on her chest and then her lips before returning to her eyes. “I could fuck you. Right here. Because a guy like that?” He nodded to the general direction of the bar and, presumably, her ex still somewhere inside it. “There’s no way he’s fucking you like you deserve.”

She gasped involuntarily. He wasn’t wrong, this gorgeous stranger. But should she? Could she? The warmth between her thighs said yes.

Fuck it all. It was her birthday.

She paused for another moment, taking a deep breath, his scent filling her head, something sultry and sharp and masculine. She nodded.

She felt his fingers at her chin, turning her head and angling it upward. “I’m going to need a little more than that.”

She forced her eyes open and wet her lips. “Yes.”

“Yes what, birthday girl?”

She shivered again. “I want you to fuck me.”

He dipped his head, his green eyes barely visible beneath his brows in this light, but she felt the power of them all the same.

And then she was moving, as if willed by some telekinetic force at his command, backed up against the wall and facing him. His lips brushed hers once, gently, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Tell me what you want for your birthday,” he whispered.

She let out the slightest of whimpers. “Take me,” she said, not wanting to overthink it. “Hard and fast.” Her fingers had found their way to his shirt, curling into the expensive material. “I want it dirty. I don’t want to feel this...this...” She huffed. “I want to feel good and used. Can you do that for me?”

Another quiet chuckle, and his thumb ran over her bottom lip, pressing at its center. “It’s your day. I’m just here to serve.” He crowded her space until their bodies were flush, and then his gentle seduction was over. His hand was beneath her dress, causing the total ruination of her panties before ripping them off completely, two long digits reaching a place inside her she’d only ever found by herself.

“Mm, you’re wound so tight, little girl,” he murmured. “He really hasn’t been treating you right, has he?”

She could barely form thoughts, let alone coherent words, so she clung to his shoulders in response. Her legs were beginning to tremble, her hips rolling to his hand, chasing more. And just when she thought he might allow her to tumble over into oblivion, he pulled away, shoving his slick fingers into her mouth. She groaned around them and sucked eagerly, until he took that away from her, too.

She pushed at his chest in frustration, though it had no effect on him. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

He smirked at her. “Turn around.” When she didn’t immediately comply, he spun her himself, hiking up her skirt and sliding his thigh between her legs. He kicked a large cinderblock beneath her. “Hop up, my naughty little bunny,” he urged, and she did, balancing precariously on the hunk of cement until his body against hers was there to support her fully. It gave him the extra few inches in height he needed to allow him to do what he needed to do.

Her fingers found rough holds in the brick as she heard the jingle of his belt, the metal of his zipper, the sound of a wrapper being torn open. She rested her forehead against the cool surface, her mind racing.

But not for long. Because then his fingers were back on her clit, checking to make sure she was still ready. He nipped at her ear. “Happy birthday.”

And then he pushed inside of her, giving her barely enough time to adjust before he began to pump into her. Her eyes fell closed and she arched her back. He was far more skilled than she would have hoped some random alley fuck would be. He was quickly climbing the ranks to the top of her list, and he rose higher and higher with every thrust, every pinch of her ass, every flex of his fingers around her neck.

“What the fuck?!”

Her eyes snapped open and she let out a cry that was a mix of undeniable pleasure and surprise.

But the man currently wrecking her pussy didn’t flinch. “That him?” he growled.

She nodded, wanting to stop, and yet some wild, enraged part of her didn’t dare. Her ex moved closer.

“You fucking slut!” And he kicked an empty beer bottle into the opposite wall.

She winced, but still, she didn’t stop.

“Don’t mind him, kitten. He’s just pissed because he’s never made you this wet. Never fucked you like this. You wouldn’t dare risk this for his pathetic dick, hm?”

The way her ex’s cheeks puffed in and out, the way she knew everything this stranger had said was true, the way she felt that maybe her ex needed to know he was hardly the sex stud he thought he was, that’s why she didn’t stop. She felt herself slowly beginning to milk the cock still pistoning deep inside her.

“Fuck you, asshole! You can have her, she’s a whiny piece of—“

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? Fuck, baby, I feel you, squeezing me.” Another sharp smack to her ass and a tug at her neck. “You like that. You like him watching me fuck you. You want him to see what I’m doing to you. You want him to know that hot little cunt is never going to be satisfied by him again.”

“Oh, god,” she whined, her eyes closing and her nails scraping against the bricks.

“There it is,” he panted. “That’s it, little one.”

She let go and came so hard she felt tingling in her fingers and toes. She didn’t hold back, letting her cries out as if they were all alone, with no one around for miles.

By the time she opened her eyes again, her ex was stomping back toward the street. Maybe she should have felt embarrassed or guilty. But she didn’t. She felt oddly energized, despite the rush that was seeping out of her bloodstream.

He pulled out of her and helped her from her makeshift stool before tossing his condom in a nearby dumpster and righting his clothes.

She fixed her skirt, but she didn’t even see where her underwear had landed. She smoothed a hand through her hair and looked up at him. “Um...did you...?”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. I didn’t do it for me.”

“I could—“

“It’s your birthday,” he said, closing his fingers gently around her wrist when she reached for his belt. “It’s not about me.”

She fidgeted. “Maybe I want to,” she said quietly. “Maybe I’m not done.” She decided to go for broke, because what did she have to lose? “If it’s all about me, then what I want for the rest of my birthday is you.”

He chuckled again and nodded, fingers trailing from her wrist to her hand and sliding between hers. “Alright then, princess.” He lifted his chin. “Let’s go get some food in you. Your birthday won’t be over for another few hours, and you’ll need your strength.”

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                                       Hades, the God of the Underworld,                                           whose origins stem from Ancient Greece.                                        He is now a medical examiner for the MPPD.

FC NAME/GROUP:  Ju Jihoon, actor. GOD NAME: Hades PANTHEON:  Greek OCCUPATION: Medical Examiner at the MPPD HEIGHT: 188 cm DEFINING FEATURES: droopy left eye, multiple notch scars on face.

PERSONALITY: Hades is essentially a recluse, and only spends time outside of his apartment at work, or perhaps a bar or a restaurant. He’s a bit curt towards people, trying to limit as much interaction as possible, However, he seems completely fine at conversing with people, even going as far as teasing them and having a good laugh, but yet he just prefers brooding on his own. Hades is strict and stern, he views the world around him objectively and rarely lets emotion get the better of him. Though he does not often show that he cares, Hades is often more concerned with other people’s well being and less his. He’s not motivated by much and passively goes along with the flow instead of taking matters into his own hands. He’s also affectionate with loved ones and has a flair for the dramatics.

HISTORY:

I.

He does not remember much about his birth except for his older sister calling to him, there is nothing to remember. He is engulfed by his father who feared that his children would some day kill him, so his father attempts to kill his own children instead. Hades waits in the darkness as more siblings join with he and Hestia in Cronus’ stomach, it feels like an eternity before he’s regurgitated back into sunlight and sees with siblings for the first time, war declared on Cronus and the Titans. Hades proves his worth; his strength is equal to the rest of his brothers, but yet he lacked luck. Hades is ambitious, he did not want to be restricted to the underworld. But yet, he lacks conviction and did not wish for another bloodbath, so Hades takes his lot and rules everything under the ground, in the crevasses of the earth. It’s not as bad as he had imagined, he has all the lush vegetation and ore on his side.

II.

Hades falls in love with a young goddess and tricks her into living with him. He treats her well, but she is unhappy without her mother. Demeter is angry, she and Hades fight and Demeter neglects the land. Hades alone could not make the ground fertile without her help, so they compromise. Persephone lives with Hades in his realm at the end of the harvest for four months til it is warm outside again, every year without fail. Hades is not well-liked, but he is respected. Hades never leaves his home and watches as the world crumbles in the world up above, with petty fights amongst gods and men. He doesn’t complain, it’s more subjects for his kingdom, welcomed through the gates of the Underworld.

III.

Hell is Hades’ new name, the world is not it once was. Hades used to be respected, but now he’s feared. Priests tell the world that Hell is cruel and that one should return to God. Less souls cross the Styx, the dead tell him that souls no longer return to the earth but go towards the sky, an untouchable place even the god of the sky can’t touch. Only the grave sinners walk in, condemned to be thrown in the pits of Tartarus, the true hell. He lets his wife go, she does not deserve the slander.

IV.

The world is boring. There’s no amusement. Repetitive bloodbaths borne from petty fights, Hades has seen it all.  The underworld becomes a democracy, Hades has stepped down as ruler, there was nothing to rule anyways. Even so, he would always be the dead’s king. Cerberus is sleeping, he has become small, there is no longer anything to guard. Hades picks up his beloved hound and climbs up to the gates of his home, and does not look back. The light above is blinding.

V.

Hades travels the world with Cerberus, disguised as three dogs. He often moves in the dead of the night, or under the cover of the clouds. The sunshine was no longer beautiful to him, it was starting to get on his nerves, really. The dead and the dying to speak to him, afraid. He tells them that death is not to be feared. Death was gentle; death was up to karmic retribution. Over the course of his travails, Hades takes on the visage of a mortal dubbed the Prince of the Undead, gone too soon for his fleeting life. A shame really, the God thinks he would have made a fine ruler. The dead whisper to him about a city akin to Olympus, where god and demigod cohabitate, he would be lying if he didn’t miss being able to interact with his kind terribly. His sights are set on Mount Phoenix.

POWERS: Compared to his fellow gods and goddesses, Hades has much less powers, but yet feared for his strength. His most notable power is invisibility, unseen to the eye of mortals. He can see and speak to the dead. As king of the underworld, he has complete control over his realm, and assigns chosen ones to judicial and democratic duties that are much more menial. However, for special occasions in which Hades himself was the judge of the dead, he demonstrated the ability to completely erase a dead soul¹ or erase a living person’s memory², but he does not often do so unless angered. The territory comes with land and its ores, and so he shares the power of the earth’s fertility with Persephone and Demeter. He is the omniscient observer and can discern truth and trickery.

¹ myth of Orpheus ² myth of Pirithous

STRENGTHS:

Genuinely altruistic

Observing people quietly. Some call it spying. He likes to call it “being attentive”.

Practical

WEAKNESSES:

Stubborn, it’s a family trait if he’s being honest.

Absolutely cannot stand deceit, though he never tells the entire truth either. But at least he’s honest.

Sunlight. It hurts his eyes and irritates his skin.

His ex-wife.

[nightashes]

Beside the Mountain Lies Magic - Chapter 6

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Warnings: Slight blood mention. Sword fighting. 

Summary: Roman chases after Patton as they both run to meet the Ya-Te-Veo

A/N: Just a reminder that I love all my readers! :P

Ao3

September 22nd 2:42 pm

Roman was pretty sure the baker was insane. He was currently chasing the madman down as they raced through the woods. The loud banging of his armor echoed through the forest, the weight threatening to slow him down. Years of training allowed him to keep Patton within eyesight, despite the baker being much lighter of foot. The knight refused to lose sight of him. If the fool were to reach the tree without Roman, it could mean death. He charges after him, the underbrush tugging at his legs, fighting his progress. Patton seems to know where he is going as he leaps through the crowded forest. A fierce energy pushing him forward. The baker barrels through an opening in the trees and immediately drops from view.

Roman slows down his sprint enough to withdraw his sword as he cautiously approaches. The trees open up to reveal a small clearing overtaken by a single massive tree unlike any he had ever seen before. It’s roots cover the ground upon which Patton is sprawled across, his foot hooked into a thick notch of root. The beast hovers menacingly over the baker. Thick green branches that seem to be hissing in warning, waving viciously through the air. A single limb leans away from the rest, reaching out towards Patton. It stalks towards the fallen man, the baker crouching on his knees as he searches the root covered ground for his glasses.

A large shout is torn from the knight’s throat. Roman leaps over Patton, slashing the branch in two. The surviving half recoils close to the trunk, as the other vine-like branches violently start whipping across the clearing towards where Roman now stands, protectively guarding Patton. His sword glints in the sunlight, as he swings, lopping off another limb and ducking beneath the fierce clubbing of a third. The hissing has turned into a roaring grind of gravel, punctuated with the sounds of whipping and thumping. Both sword and vines swing through the air to meet in combat. Roman is holding his own, he fights back against the branches, stepping across the clearing as he cuts off one more. A vine thumps across Roman’s chest plate, before he swings down, slashing through it effortlessly. He steps back as a branch flies past his face, leaving a shallow cut across his cheek. Roman fights his way through the clearing and towards the Ya-Te-Veo. The vines have almost all begun to retreat to the trunk. Curling up around themselves. The tree knows it can’t fight back. But Roman wasn’t done. Coming up to the tree he begins slashing off each rolled up vine. One after another. Chopping through the vines as they writhe against the trunk. He slices through them as Patton’s voice tries to break through his thoughts.

“Roman!” The baker cries out.

The Knight carries on until there is nothing but the trunk left behind. Roman can now see that at the center of the tree is a large cavity. Peering down into the darkness, he makes out the shape of bones hidden in the shadows of the crevice. The fire in his veins ignites, as he sits to work on the trunk. He has lost all sense as he raises his sword over his head and swings down. Again. And again.

He can hear Patton behind him. Yelling at him to stop. And he knows if Logan, his mentor, were here, he’d be disappointed in his lack of control and furious at Roman for blunting his sword to cut open a trunk. But he can’t stop, not until there is nothing left. He swings again and again. Thrusting his sword deeper and deeper into the thick bark of the trunk. He strikes again and again. Creating a gaping wedge splitting open the front of the tree as begins to run out of steam. Panting, he can go no further. The ache in his hands becomes too much. The knight hears Patton approach him from behind. His soft steps come to a stop beside him.

“This thing would have killed you. Why did you run off?” Roman speaks softly.

Patton remains silent. Standing there, staring at the broken up tree. His mouth hangs open in horror at the devastation wrought to the beast. Roman huffs. He grabs a cloth and quickly wipes down his blade before roughly sheathing it. He would give the blade more attention later, but for now he remembered the antidote. Removing the pouch from his belt, he turns to Patton. “Are you injured? Did it scratch you at all?”

Patton continues to stare in shock, his face red from dried tears. When had he been crying? “Patton!” Roman shouts to grab his attention. “This is important. Did it scratch you?”

Patton still refusing to speak, shakes his head numbly. Stepping in front of the baker, he begins scanning his body. The knight does not spot anything, and without invading Patton’s personal space that is the best he can do. The baker appears to be in shock. He may not react well to Roman touching him. Roman sighs before uncorking the vial, a small thing full of a brownish-green liquid. He drains it quickly, grunting at the flavor. It tastes almost like grass.

He looks over at the crippled tree and then back at Patton, staring blankly ahead with a look of complete devastation. “Patton. I think it’s best if you go back into town and visit the physician. Tell him you were in the clearing of the Ya-Te-Veo. He should be able to make sure that you are truly unharmed. He’s a good man. He’ll take care of you.”

Patton’s eyes tear away from the tree at the mention of the physician. hTears falling freely down his face. The man covers his mouth as his wails rip through the air.

“Patton…” The knight reaches out, trying and hoping to comfort him. The baker only jerks away stumbling backwards. He turns back towards town and without another word begins to walk out of the clearing, stumbling slightly over the large roots of the tree. His muffled sobs breaking out between his hands.

Roman watches him go. He wants to go after him. But there is something more he must do. He has to make sure that the tree won’t grow back. And so he sits to work collecting kindling, setting it up at the base of the new opening in the trunk.

He manages to get a large fire going, the wet wood of the tree creating a dense cloud of smoke covering the clearing and obscuring the brutal destruction of the wicked beast. Roman stands there watching the flames lick across the bark.The heat continues to grow in intensity, Roman wipes the sweat from his brow while he watches. Despite everything he was proud of himself. He had finally completed his first quest. The Ya-Te-Veo was dead.

taglist: @stop-it-anxiety @sandersidesandcoffee

[gaiyofanfiction]

The Stray District - Chapter 4

Stray Kids Gang!Au

Lee Know x Reader

Drama

A/N: I don’t have much to say other than the fic starts to pick up. This is kinda a short chapter, I’m sorry. Please enjoy!

Warnings: PG13. Violence and Seductive Themes (Nothing sexual that crosses a line for underage idols.)

Disclaimer: This is pure fiction. All artists named in this fic are given a fake personality by me. This does not in any means reflect on the individual idol or groups. To my knowledge, they are all sweet, amazing people that wouldn’t hurt a fly.

~~~

“Well, if it isn't Bang Chan himself.”

The Computer Specialist sets a hard glare onto his face, lightly tugging at his restraints. It was hard for Bang Chan to hate anything, but god, did he hate everything about you.

“Ms. Y/N. What an unpleasant surprise,” he growls.

You saunter up to the restrained boy and lean forward, tilting your head. “So I hear you laid a hand on my baby brother, hm?”

The boy smirks, chuckling. “Oh, did we? Hm, can't recall.”

You glare at the boy, your anger raising. “Oh, you're not in the position to be snarky with me, Chris.” You emphasize his real name.

It was his turn to glare at you. “What the hell do you want with me, Y/N? Why am I here?”

You trail a finger over his shoulder as you walk around him. You drape your arms over his shoulders, your head next to his.

“Isn't it obvious? I need you to tell me where your little hideout is. I'd like to get my revenge for my little brother.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, like I'm going to tell you. Why would I put Lee Know in danger?”

You whisper into his ear, “Pretty please, my dear Chris?”

He laughs, raising a brow. “You may be able to seduce Jisung and affect Hyunjin with your ways, but I'm not as easily swayed.”

You smirk, knowing exactly how to sway the older male. All you need to do is turn it up a notch. You walk around, a finger still running along his shoulders. You swing your leg over his lap, sitting down, straddling him. He looks a little surprised but not quite phased yet.

“Tell me where your hideout is, baby.”

You lean over, your lips ghosting over his. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, playing with his hair. He stares down at your lips, his breathing becoming heavy. He may not have a crush on you like Jisung, but he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't attracted to you.

“Pretty please tell me, my lovely Chris.”

You whisper, your lips just barely touching his. You run your fingers down his arms, a cold shiver running down his spine. You look directly into his eyes, which have now clouded over with nothing but pure lust. He leans forward, trying to catch you in a kiss, but you put a finger to his chest and push him back against the chair. You giggle, gripping his biceps so hard, making a groan push past his lips. He's starting to pull at his restraints, wanting to touch you. To feel you.

“I could give you anything you want if you could just tell me.”

Your fingers travel down his arms to his thighs, brushing them over his groin. He's going wild at your touch, his eyes hooded, a low growl coming from him.

“So, are you going to tell me or do I need to-” you lean over to place a feathery kiss onto his shoulder, your hot breath making him once again growl into your ear. “-continue?”

“F-Fine! I'll tell you! It's near where we found I.N. There's a flower shop that is just a front for the hideout. You'll find the entrance in the basement.”

A grin spreads across your face in triumph. You tilt Chan's head up, leaning on for a kiss but quickly changing direction, giving him one on the cheek instead.

“Thank, babes.”

You pat his head and climb off his lap. His look of pure lust changes to shock and then into one of pure hatred.

“Once I get out of these ropes, you are so fucking dead.”

You wave your hand nonchalantly. “Yeah, yeah whatever you say.”

You point to Woojin. “You, stay here and watch this lovely boy.” You turn to Felix, “You, my dear, are coming with me. Let's finish this once and for all.”

Woojin stops you, a hand on your arm. “Are you sure you don't want me to come with? Are you going to be able to handle it, just the two of you?”

You pat his hand. “Don’t worry, Felix and I can handle ourselves.”

Despite his worries, he nods curtly and turns back to the pissed off Stray Kid. “Looks like it's just you and me, lover boy.”

“Fucking bite me.”

~~~

You walk out the door, Felix close behind. Grabbing your two pistols and setting them into your garter holsters, the two of you make your way out of the hideout. The cold, night air hits you, making you regret wearing short shorts and a tank. However, you have other things to worry about.

“What's the plan, boss?” Felix catches up to you quickly.

Without a glance his direction, you respond. “We should be able to get in with no problems. As long as we encounter each member one by one until we make it to the snake’s room. If we're lucky, Jisung and Changbin haven't arrived back at the hideout yet.”

After a short time walking down the almost pitch black streets, the two of you make it to the dimly lit flower shop.

Before the two of you are able to break in, you're grabbed by the waist and pulled up against a hard body, a knife to your throat.

“Y/N!” Felix tells, automatically going into fight mode.

He doesn't get very far before he hears the cocking of a gun, making him freeze instantly.

“Ah ah. I wouldn't move if I were you.”

You hear the sound of Hyunjin’s voice to your left. If you weren't held by knife point, you would have turned to him. That's when you see Changbin come up behind Felix, grasping his arms and holding them tightly behind his back.

‘If Hyunjin is to my left and Changbin is in front of me, that means…’

“Han,” you speak thru clenched teeth. Han tightens his grip on you when his name exits your mouth.

“My dear, Y/N.” He chuckles, speaking with a low tone into your ear.

“What's going on here?” Your voice comes out calmer than you feel.

“We've come to take you back with us, little dove.”

“You're out of your damn minds if you think I'm going anywhere with you three.” You grit your teeth, pissed you got yourself into this situation.

“Oh, you're coming with us alright.” Hyunjin aims the gun at your head. “I will not hesitate to hurt you if necessary.”

You roll your eyes with a scoff. “No, you won't. I know for a fact that Minho wouldn't allow you to hurt me in any way.”

Hyunjin chuckles, “You're right.” He slowly changes the positioning of the pointed gun from you to Felix. “But he never said anything about your members. If you don't come with us, I'll shoot little Yongbok here straight through the head.”

Your eyes widen, fear taking hold of you. “Don’t you dare hurt him!” You struggle in Jisung's grasp but it's to no avail. As much as you hate to admit it, he's much stronger than you.

“Make your decision by the count of three.” You watch as he takes a step closer to your bodyguard. “One.” He places the barrel of the gun against Felix's head. “Two.” His finger starts to pull the trigger.

“No! Stop!” You shriek. Defeated, you lower your head. “I'll go with you. Just please, let him go.”

Felix's eyes widen in fear. “No, you can't! I promised you I'd give my life for yours and I've accepted that!”

Hyunjin walks over to you, taking your chin his hands, forcing you to look at him. “If you can get him to leave right now, I'll let him live.”

“Felix go back home.”

“No! I'm not going to leave you here!”

Your voice changes into a business like tone. “Felix, go back home! That's an order! I'll be fine.”

Felix rips his body away from Changbin. He looks at you once more, eyes glistening with tears. He takes off into the night, leaving you in the hands of the three dangerous boys.

“That's a good choice, Y/N.” Jisung speaks softly into your ear. You suddenly feel a wet cloth cover your nose and mouth. “Sorry, love. But you'll need to be put to sleep till we get you back home.”

Breathing in the toxic fumes, your body falls limp and your consciousness falls deep into darkness.

~~~

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