#she might have been wearing pants in her first appearance; I lost my copy in the fire. but the vibe was very much Not This

[marzipanandminutiae]

just saw fanart of a female character whose fashion sense is described in canon as "Pre-Raphaelite" (this gets explored in depth because having clothing that makes her feel comfortable is against her parents' wishes)...wearing jeans and a motorcycle jacket

not to be all "let women be feminine!!!!" but this really seems sort of Girl Can Only Be Badass In Pants, to a ridiculous degree

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 3

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 3.4K

**read this first!**a/n: be sure to read the newspaper article at the end of Jimin’s POV, it’s important to the story! if you’re unable to see the words b/c they’re too small, please comment/let me know and I’ll fix it! If you’re on mobile, you should be able to click on it and flip it to horizontal. That should make it easier to read.

Chapter 3. Fake Smile

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Jimin fiddles with a loose thread hanging off the end of his sleeve, minding his business as hushed staff members bustle around the room. He’s wearing a pristine white jacket over his button down shirt. It feels like it’s been years since he’s last dressed up for anything.

“Ok, we’re ready to go,” someone in the distance says. Jimin sits up a little straighter, trying his best to look overjoyed to be here. A familiar makeup artist rushes forward, dabbing at his face and giving him a warm look.

“Oh, let me get this for you,” she mumbles, noticing the loose thread that Jimin keeps twisting and pulling. Taking a pair of small scissors from the bag around her waist, she goes to cut the string.

Jimin tenses up, a strangled noise coming from his throat. “No, leave it,” he mumbles. The makeup artist doesn’t hear him, thinking he’s just being polite.

Suddenly Jimin jumps up, backing away as fast as he can. “Leave it be!” He sobs, bringing his hand close to his chest.

Everyone freezes, looking to the idol with a mixture of worry and confusion. The makeup artist from before is the first one to put two and two together, bowing low and profusely apologizing.

It takes a few minutes for Jimin to come back to his senses, finally going through some breathing exercises and assuring the worried staff that he’s fine. When he finally settles back on the stool, the same makeup artist hurries over, keeping her eyes averted as she hurriedly touches up his makeup.

The guilt hits Jimin like a brick wall. “I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes perfectly reflecting how horrible he feels for his outburst. “You just took me by surprise. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault,” the young woman mumbles. “I should have known better.”

Before Jimin can respond, the woman scurries away and it’s time for Jimin to film his short message to be shown at the concert.

Jimin has worn a few fake smiles in his lifetime, however as he lies straight to the camera, claiming that his muscle spasms have returned and that he’s working toward a speedy recovery, he can’t recall the lies ever hurting this much.

“Please wait for me,” Jimin says, his close-lipped smile hopefully countering the look in his eyes. “Enjoy the concert! Fighting!” He goes to raise his hand in a fist, but stops as he catches sight of his red thread in his peripheral.

Once the video is cut and Jimin is given the OK to head out, he slips out of the room immediately. A part of him would love to just go ahead and disappear into one of the empty rooms within the Bighit building, but he knows that he has to attend the meeting that Bang Sihyuk called for him and all the members.

By the time he makes it into the conference room everyone else is already there. He feels a bit more relieved when he enters the room and they don’t immediately halt in their conversation. Instead, Taehyung pulls Jimin to sit down beside him, giving him a boxy smile.

“Alright,” Bang Sihyuk sits at the head of the table with a soft look in his eye. “Are we ready?”

A round of agreement goes around the table, Jimin folding his hands on the table and doing his best to keep his eyes on the wall behind Hobi’s head. He definitely was aware of the line of red threads that trailed into the conference room, fighting the pang of hurt that was bound to arise.

The meeting starts off normally enough, going over a quick review of their upcoming schedule and making sure everything is prepared for their next concerts in Japan. The boys occasionally make comments or express concerns with the schedule, and everyone works together to resolve any issues that may arise.

For the first time all week, Jimin feels...normal.

That feeling comes crashing down when Bang Sihyuk’s voice rings out, calling Jimin’s name.

“We have a few options for how we can move forward,” he begins. “But I just want you to keep in mind that we’re in this together. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” Jimin mumbles.

Sitting back, Bang Sihyuk claps his hands. “That being said, we have a few options. I’m not sure what you would feel best about, so please weigh in with your opinion.”

With that being said the entire room begins to delve into the separate ideas. Of course the company sending out a statement is one of the first ideas to be discussed, however Jimin can’t shake the uneasy feeling that accompanies it.

“I know that we can’t just pretend that nothing happened,” Jimin states, sitting forward in his seat. “But isn’t there a way that we could just...I don’t know…” He trails off, unsure of what he was even trying to say in the first place.

Namjoon, who Jimin notices hasn’t even looked at him in the eye during this entire meeting, clears his throat. “We can always just take the ‘no comment’ route. I mean, there’s sure to be a lot of rumors that accompany that, but there’s going to be rumors no matter what.”

“No comment?”

Bang Sihyuk nods. “That’s basically just us refusing to ever shed light on the situation. Honestly...we might have to take that route anyway, because we really don’t know what happened. Instead of scrambling for some sort of explanation, we could just allow people to wonder. I’m not sure if Jimin would feel comfortable with-”

“Sounds great.”

All eyes turn to Jimin, who is sitting on the edge of his seat, fiddling with the severed thread.

“What?”

Jimin shrugs. “Like Namjoon said; there’s going to be rumors no matter what. Let them wonder. Frankly the idea of offering up some sort of patched together explanation every time people ask me about this,” he holds up his hand for emphasis, “sounds exhausting and never ending. Which, all of this will be, but I’d like to just keep this for myself.”

It’s quiet for a moment while everyone takes in this information, and Jimin waits with bated breath for the verdict. In the end, it’s Jungkook who ventures to speak first.

“I think you have a point,” he says, shooting his friend an understanding look. “People are going to be asking about it nonstop and spreading rumors, so I’d feel better if what we answer is on our terms. People can so easily twist our responses.”

After a couple more minutes of discussion and debate, they settle it. Deciding to take the ‘no comment’ route for now, Jimin feels a wave of relief come over him. Namjoon, too, appears to be relieved with this decision.

Once the meeting is over, Jimin doesn’t miss the way Namjoon practically hurtles out of the room.

“Where’s he headed to?” He asks the others. Jin shrugs.

“I think he said he had to meet with Chung-hei.”

There’s a pang of pain at the mention of Namjoon’s soulmate, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as it might have the day before. “Oh.” Before the others can dive in to make him feel better, Jimin changes the subject. “Have you guys already eaten?”

Taehyung’s eyes light up at the possibility of his best friend joining in on a meal with them. “Nope. Let’s go!”

The boys surround Jimin as they head down into the small cafeteria area, a few staff wandering around. The makeup artist from this morning keeps her head down, shooting Jimin a sheepish smile before scampering off. Jimin winces, recalling the events of the morning. How he’d lost complete control-

“Who even reads the paper anymore?” Jungkook asks aloud, grabbing an abandoned article from off a table. “I didn’t realize that they still delivered hard copies.”

Jimin wanders over, forcing a half-smile to his face. “Is it a real newspaper?” Before he can grab it, Jungkook drops the paper almost as though it burned his skin.

“Er, no,” he stutters out, earning a confused look from everyone around the table. “I think it’s a fake, I’ll just throw it away-”

Jimin reaches out and grabs the newspaper before Jungkook can do anything, eyes widening as they glance over the front page. Everyone else gathers around, falling eerily quiet. In the end, it’s Taehyung who breaks the silence. 

“I’m sure it’s just some dumb misunderstanding,” he mumbles. “You know how reporters get.”

Jimin can hardly find it in himself to nod, rereading the article again and again. 

For the first time in his life, Jimin wishes that the gossip column were true.

✂

Typically, the second I’m done with work, I do my best to not think of bread for the rest of the day. Today, however, is different.

My tiny apartment has been transformed, the kitchen dusted over with a thin layer of flour. On the counter sits an old wooden slab, a chunk of dough sitting atop it. And then there’s me.

Hands cracked to oblivion, hair pulled back in what can only be identified as a bird’s nest, panting as I flatten the dough again and again. It’s the same process that I’ve been doing for years, my shoulders hardly aching anymore with the constant practice.

Punch.

Press.

Repeat.

The sound of me beating the dough to a pulp is ringing in my ears, and when I finally step back with a huff, it takes me a moment to hear something scratching at the door. Shaking my head to rid myself of the ringing noise, I listen closer.

“Who’s there?”

A quick glance out the window shows my empty porch, however the scratching continues. Now that it’s steadily growing darker, I can’t tell if there’s anything out there.

Am I being haunted? Is this my punishment for cutting the thread?

Slowly, I open the door, wincing at the white mark I leave behind from my flour-heavy hands. “Hello?”

I get a meow in response.

Looking down, I meet eyes with a pristine white cat that sits on its back legs and looks up at me with unwavering annoyance.

“What?” I ask the cat, that simply blinks up at me. “What are you so annoyed about? You’re the one that knocked, not me.”

Nearly rolling its light colored eyes at me, the cat stretches before looking back up expectantly. From the white fur that doesn’t have a single spec of dirt, to the look it’s giving me, I feel like I just stumbled upon the queen’s cat.

“By all means, come in,” I croon, stepping aside and watching with no small amount of amusement as the cat leaps inside. It immediately heads toward the couch, jumping atop it. “Make yourself comfortable,” I mumble.

Ignoring my visitor for now, I go back to the counter and stare down at the dough. I’ve been kneading this for a while now, it’s flat enough that it might never rise. That’s not what I got it for, though. There’s already some bread baking in the oven.

Half-heartedly throwing one fist at it, I find that I’ve completely lost any energy. Instead I just stare down at the wooden slab, and wonder.

It’s the same thing that I’ve been wondering about all day. My thoughts go in endless circles, always coming back around to the same thing.

Park Jimin.

After Chung-hei appeared at the shop a couple of days ago, I’ve been unable to stop thinking about what I’ve done. When I told her my reasoning, recalling the awful experience she had and admitting that I was a coward and didn’t want to go through the same thing, Chung-hei looked at me with something akin to realization.

“Jolie,” she had muttered, stopping me from hitting the dough again. “You know that he would love you, right? You’re enough. More than enough.”

Which led me to this moment, pulling out the wooden slab and spending my entire evening beating some dough and trying to beat out my emotions as well. It still hasn’t worked.

“What’s your name?”

The cat’s ears twitch a little at my sudden question, however it just continues to stare at me like I might be insane. Judging from my recent actions, I’d say it isn’t wrong.

“Are you planning on staying the night, or…?”

A swish of its tail and the cat is sinking lower into the couch.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Finally abandoning the dough and washing my hands off, I meander over to my new roommate. “What should I call you? I have a feeling you won’t take kindly to just being called ‘cat’, right?”

The cat gives me a death glare, confirming my suspicions.

“That’s what I thought,” I say, raising my hands in innocence. Settling down beside the white cat, I admire its fur. “But I wonder why you’re here? You look like you’re well taken care of. And no collar?” Hesitantly reaching out, I double check that there is no collar hidden in its long fur. “Don’t think so. I’ll let you stay the night,” I concede. “But tomorrow you’ve got to find your way back home, ok?”

The cat swivels its head to look at me, looking offended that I would even say such a thing. It lets out a woeful mewl.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” Another mewl. “Huh.”

Running my hands through its long fur, I lean my head against the wall, watching the evening turn darker and darker. The cat also joins me in my silent watch, never moving an inch as it emits a soft pur.

“I’m lost, too.” The words tumble from my mouth, a little broken. I keep my eyes ahead, watching the outside as though it will disappear at any given moment.

From the corner of my eye I see a bundle of white fur scooting toward me until the cat lumbers up into my lap. Chuckling through the unshed tears, I sniffle and adjust so we’re both comfortable.

“Should I call you ‘L’ for lost?” I ask abestmindely. I nearly jolt out of my skin when the cat hisses up at me. “Ok, ok. You’re a lady, I get it. What about ‘Elle’? You know, e-l-l-e. That’s like a princess name. Very pretty. We’ll be the only ones that know what it really means. ‘Elle’ for lost.”

I receive no further objections.

Snuggling down into the sofa, I keep my eyes open for as long as I can until they drift shut against my will.

✂

When I awake, the world is still dark. Not unusual, considering that I tend to wake up around this time everyday, but something is off-

“Elle!”

The cat in question jumps off my lap, bolting toward the door. Groaning, I rub at the back of my neck.

“Good morning. What time is it?” A quick peek at my phone that’s nearly dead has me groaning a second time. It’s already time to get up. Waddling toward the bathroom, a loud meow makes me pause.

“What?” Elle scratches a little at the door, giving me a withering gaze. “Oh. Right.” I hurry over to open the door. “Well, thanks for visiting, feel free- aaand she’s gone.”

Laughing quietly to myself, I head into the bathroom to get ready. Making sure to not even look at the mirror until I’ve scrubbed my face, I get straight to it.

I’m nearly running late when I finally leave my apartment, but thankfully the shop isn’t far from here. It allows me to walk there most mornings.

The world is still asleep as I walk down the street, admiring the dull grays and blues of the early morning. There’s a hint of a chill in the air, but it’s nothing that a brisk walk won’t take care of.

It’s in these moments of quiet that I feel like the world is pressing down on me so heavily. Unafraid of people gawking and seeing my cut thread, I let my hands hang out of my pockets.

There’s nothing to be afraid of this early in the morning. It’s only when the sun begins to rise is when trouble begins to stir up. So I take advantage of the peace that settles over me as I make my way to work. No doubt my shoulders will resent me a bit today as I spent all of my free time yesterday beating dough.

As the sleepy world continues in its quiet vigil, my thoughts return to the exchange I had with Chung-hei a couple of days ago.

“You told me you wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”

Chung-hei sighs, suddenly looking utterly exhausted. “I was foolish. It sucked, of course it did. Suddenly I had a target on my back. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what-”

“The only way I was able to get through that and am still able to, is because of the people I have surrounding me. I have you! I have Namjoon! As far as I’m concerned, that’s all I really need. It was difficult, but I learned to quit worrying so much about what other people expected or wanted from me. I know who I love, and that’s all that matters.”

“Good morning sleepy-head.”

Nearly jumping into the street, I can’t help but yell a little as Chung-hei appears before me. She’s standing in front of the shop, a sly smile on her face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, clutching my chest. “Why are you trying to scare me so much?”

My friend laughs. “It’s too fun, honestly. What? I can’t come to visit you at work anymore?”

“Weren’t you just here a couple of days ago?”

Chung-hei clears her throat. “Ah. Right.” She rubs at her arms. “Should we go inside, then? Fire up the oven? It’s chilly.”

Giving her a long look, I glance down at my thread. Despite being fully aware of my decision, it still shocks me a bit whenever I see the frayed end. Still a dull red, the thread looks so out of place now.

“Sure, I guess.” I grab my key out of my pocket, heading toward the front door. “Actually, I could use some help. I think I nearly beat the life out of some dough yesterday, I can hardly move my arms now.”

“Yeah. Namjoon can help.”

I stop with the door halfways open. “What do you-” Glancing over my shoulder, I nearly lose all ability to speak as I watch my friend rounding the corner of the building with none other than Kim Namjoon in tow.

He’s taller than I imagined.

And somehow able to make me what to run for the hills.

I stare at the man, forgetting all sort of courtesy or manners as he looks down at the ground sheepishly. Slowly, I turn to my friend.

“What.”

Chung-hei has the good sense to look a little apologetic. “I...you never got to meet him.”

I stare at her a moment longer, struggling to read whatever emotions are in her eyes. My heart catches in my throat. “He knows, doesn’t he.”

At this, Namjoon looks up with wide eyes. He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.

“Don’t even try to lie,” I hiss out. “I’ve known your soulmate for much longer than you have, and I can tell when she’s trying to fix all my problems. Looks like she brought some help from the outside this time.”

Namjoon’s mouth snaps shut, but he doesn’t lower his gaze. I turn back to Chung-hei, who looks like she’s fighting against chewing me out for insulting her soulmate. Despite feeling a little bad for being so rude, I can’t help the anger that boils inside me.

My best friend, I realize, is no longer my confidant. It’s something I thought of before. Once we found our soulmates, it was only a matter of time before those roles shifted. However it doesn’t stop the pain that comes with seeing it firsthand.

The urge to turn and lock them out of the shop is overwhelming, but I stand still for a moment longer. The blue of the early morning is turning gray, almost matching the dark circles under Namjoon’s eyes. I see now just how much he must have gone through to get here.

Regardless of the circumstances, I still cherish my friendship with Chung-hei. Years of experiences and heartbreak can’t get washed away so easily.

“Can you work the dough?” I ask a little roughly, fighting against the lump in my throat. Namjoon blinks, looking shocked.

“Ah, see. I told you she’d come around.” Chung-hei drawls, grinning at me. I can’t quite find it in me to return her smile just yet. “I’ll help him,” she promises.

Sighing, I nod. “Come in, then. I hope you can talk and work at the same time. I have a feeling you prepared a speech.”

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[the-hopeless-haze]

Someone to Pull You Up Short, to Put You Through Hell (Being Alive Chapter 6)

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A/N: Okay this is over 8k words. Sorry? But it’s got everything: angst, fluff, smut... so there’s a reason this got away from me. This is also my submission to @thefanficfaerie​ ‘s DW quote challenge: I had #49 “Never trust a hug. It’s just a way to hide your face.” 

CW: Smut as aforementioned. This is NSFW!

Where the hell had you been hiding that dress? It was a simple green number that clung tantalizingly close to the curve of your breasts and waist, and then flared slightly to rest at a slightly inappropriate length, halfway down your thigh, about three or four inches of fabric past your ass. Rafael would definitely question taking you home to his mother in a skirt that short. It was strange, seeing you wear this because you often dressed conservatively. Hell, Liv showed more cleavage than you did on a day to day to basis.

But your legs in that dress, lengthened by a simple pair of black heeled sandals... his breath caught in his throat as you walked into the bar with Carisi and he never was able to fully exhale because you kept flitting around, barely paying attention to him. And it was hell, watching you play pool with Carisi against Nick and Amanda, Carisi’s body flush against yours as he helped you set up your shot.

“You okay, there, Rafael?” Liv asks.

“Mm,” he responds, barely looking at her, eyeing you across the bar. You were taunting Amanda; he could tell by your facial expression as she was setting up her cue stick. He’s pulled up short by how young you look; god, you really were a kid compared to him, weren’t you?

“I know the verdict didn’t go the way any of us wanted it to,” she says, but his mind is so far removed from anything that might have happened at the courthouse today. “But try to relax.”

“I’m relaxed,” he murmurs. Figures she would think he was tense because of work. A few months ago, that would’ve been what was running through his mind while he nursed his drink. But now, work stayed at the courthouse and his office because he had you to put him through hell when he was outside of it.

“Sure,” Olivia says sarcastically, but she follows his gaze, and his pulse quickens once she sees that you’re right in the line of it. “You squeeze that glass any tighter and it’s going to break.”

Rafael sighs, looking down at the glass of scotch in his hand. He downs the rest of it, rolling his eyes.

“(Y/n) looks nice tonight, hmm?” Olivia asks, a glint in her brown eyes that makes him wonder if feigning innocence is even worth it.

“She always looks nice,” he says, deciding to play into it since he had no other cards left. But you don’t look “nice”, you look fucking delicious, and “nice” is an understatement if there ever was one. Anyone in this bar would think going home with you was akin to winning the lottery.

But you’d go home with him, at the end of the night, or at least... he thinks.

You’re still leaning against Carisi even though there’s no real reason to now, and he tries not to think of how much sense you two would make as a couple but ultimately fails. Sure, Carisi had never been married either, but he was also almost ten years younger than Rafael. He was taller, fitter, maybe more attractive, and he was a detective and there was no sticky situation with the DA that would have to be sorted out if you two got serious. The two of you were always attached at the hip whenever he stops by the precinct, but now you’re attached by more than even that, what with hands on shoulders and backs pressed against chests.

As a complete shock to absolutely no one, you and Carisi end up losing the game of pool and have to buy the next round. You were tipsier than he’d ever seen you, your face flushed from the copious amounts of alcohol in your system. Amanda, the awful influence she is, evidently talked you into doing shots with her earlier in the evening, and you kept sucking down cocktails afterward.

Rafael himself is feeling the effects of the scotch more tonight. He’s honestly lost count of how many he’s had, and seeing you in that dress had him inebriated already, but he’s feeling particularly woozy and melancholy as you come back over with another old fashioned, the amber liquid sloshing around in the glass. You slide in the booth next to him, maybe a little too close for appearances’ sake. Carisi sidles in after you, saying something in your ear that you laugh loudly at.

“I don’t think he’d appreciate it,” you say. Were you two talking about him? Son of a bitch.

“I think we should order an appetizer,” Olivia says, her tone concerned. “You need to sober up a little, (y/n).”

“I’m fine,” you protest.

“You could barely walk over here,” Rafael says, and you raise an eyebrow. “You either have to eat something or slow down.”

“Okay, Padre,” you snicker. “What do you suggest we get, then?”

“I’ve been dying for a quesadilla,” Rollins says before Rafael can answer. “I’ll split one with you.”

“Deal.”

Rafael is startled when he feels your foot against his. Then he thinks his heart might stop as you slide upward, past his ankle, your toes getting caught in the hem of his dress pants to touch the bare skin of his calf. Were you really going to do this here? He catches your eyes and he knows by the glint in them that yes, yes you were. If this night wasn’t hell already...

Your hand comes to his knee, and you’re nodding at something Nick just said, biting into your quesadilla. And your hand slides higher up his left thigh, halfway, before sliding back down to his knee. You do this a couple more times, tantalizing slow, your hand coming up a little higher each time before it makes its descent.

Just as your hand reaches the apex of his thigh, he grabs it and pulls it away. The last thing he needs is a hard-on in front of all of SVU, and while he’d need a little more attention to get there it was best to stop you while you were ahead. Your lips form a devilish smirk as you sip from your glass, but you take the hint and keep your hands to yourself.

Rafael will be damned if you think you’re the only one allowed to play, and if it weren’t for the few drinks loosening him up he would’ve never even thought about it, but your legs in that dress... tentatively, he takes his left hand and places it on your right knee, squeezing tight enough to leave the imprint of his fingers and he edges up against the soft skin of your thigh until he reaches the hem of your skirt, and then travels back down, copying your ministrations from earlier. You don’t stop him as he rides the fabric up a little the next time his hand meets your inner thigh, his fingertips touching the hemline of your panties, and his breath catches in his throat not for the first time that night. You were wet. You couldn’t seriously want him to do this? Not here? Rafael had never been an exhibitionist but he’d be a goddamn liar if he said this wasn’t turning him on. Ultimately, he errs on the side of caution. He wasn’t going to take advantage of you when you were this drunk and he isn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of giving Carisi a free show, either. Rafael cannot wait to get the fuck out of this bar.

The conversation splits into fragments, Olivia and Rollins chatting about some new store that opened up while Fin and Amaro rehash the case again. Neither discussion sounds particularly interesting to Rafael, and he turns to you, but you’re deep in a tête-à-tête with Carisi.

“You’re the best partner I’ve had, (y/n),” Carisi says.

“Mm. You too.”

“You just saying that, doll?”

You giggle. “No.”

“I mean it, though. I’ve had bad luck with partners... and squads.”

“Poor baby.”

He chuckles, rubbing your arm and pulling you closer to him. “Not anymore. Manhattan’s a good fit. We've got a good squad here, a good ADA, and you. Best pardna in the world."

"Aww, you're too sweet," you slur.

“No one’s as sweet as you, doll.”

You crinkle your nose and laugh. “Does that ever work, Sonny?”

“Sometimes,” he chuckles. “It doesn’t work on you?”

“You wish,” you tease. “But no.”

“Anyway...Nah, I mean, you saw it. No one liked me when I first got here except you.”

"It was because of the mustache.”

"Now you're being mean."

"Sorry, baby, but you know that mustache was awful.”

“Okay. Maybe. But... all my other partners, I mean, not that it lasted long, but none of them ever wanted to talk to me and got aggravated with me. You and I, though? We’re the dream team. And I just want you to know I really appreciate you.”

“I appreciate you, too, honey. So much," you say and you press your lips against the side of Carisi's mouth. You would’ve kissed him on the lips if you weren’t so drunk that you missed.

The hell you have condemned him to now is ultimately ten times worse than the hell he'd put himself through earlier. Before it was only speculation, but now? That was it. You were going to leave him. Of course you would. That’s how the story always went from the start, and that’s how you would go, too. Instead of Alex, you’d leave him for Carisi, and he’d have to spend every day a living hell, watching the two of you at the precinct the same way he had to watch Alex and Yelina together. Who was he to think you would be any different?

Carisi's face reddens in the dim light of the bar and he laughs. "Jesus, someone needs to tap you out, huh?"

“Probably,” you slur, nestling yourself against his shoulder. “I can’t remember the last time I drank this much.”

“No more then.”

“Whatever you say, honey,” you murmur, and you kiss his cheek again, the print of your lipstick visible on Carisi’s face.

Rafael can’t stand it anymore, can’t stand the way the two of you are already all over each other. Couldn’t you have talked to him first before you decided you wanted to drape yourself on another man? Even Yelina had that decency!

If he thought he disliked Carisi before, he hates the man now as he kisses the top of your head, smiling down at you.

“I’m calling it a night,” Rafael announces abruptly, standing up just as quickly, grabbing his suit jacket and his briefcase. “Goodnight, all of you.”

Just as he reaches the door, Rollins catches him by the shoulder. “Aren’t you going to make sure your girlfriend gets home safe, Barba?”

What, were you going to send Amanda over to add insult to injury now? Fuck this. He’s far too old to be playing these games, and he should’ve fucking known better to get involved with you.

“Fuck off,” he snaps. “You know she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Hostile, much? Bet you wish she was,” she teases.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “What do you want?”

“Listen, it’s just... you live the closest to (y/n), right?” Amanda asks, knowing damn well that’s not the case. “Well... you know she’s had a few more than she should have. So could you please take her home?”

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, he sighs and nods. He can’t be that much of an asshole even if he’s hurt right now. “Alright. I’ll get us a cab.”

“Thank you, Barba. Been a real pleasure,” she says, smiling brightly. “Keep your hands to yourself, though. She probably won’t remember it tomorrow.”

He steps out into the humid August night, a slight breeze in the air indicating fall was on the way. Irritation seeps through his veins as multiple cabs drive by that he could’ve caught, but you must have been too busy giving your goodbyes to your new lover. Jesus Christ, could Rafael be any more self-pitying? It was time to start getting over you and start getting used to the sentence of being single again.

You head out a few minutes later, stumbling in your heels. He catches you but maintains a distance. His only goal was to get you home because even though he hates you right now, he hates the thought of what could happen to you inebriated in this city at this hour more. You were already a file on someone’s desk. He didn’t want you to be one on his.

You smile widely up at him, your eyes glassy as marbles, and you kiss him full on the lips. He doesn’t kiss back, only shrugs you off him, heading toward the street and hailing a cab.

“Rafi, baby, why don’t you wanna kiss me?” you whine. “Wanted to kiss you all night. Want your hands all over me. Remember earlier? Please, baby.”

“You were kissing someone else,” he snaps harshly.

“What? No, I wasn’t,” you say, furrowing your brow, swaying a little.

“I refuse to believe you’re that drunk that you don’t remember what happened minutes ago,” he says as a cab pulls over. Rafael opens the door. “Get in.”

“No, honey, what are you talking about? I didn’t kiss anyone. Don’t wanna kiss anyone but you,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. The cab driver tsks, rolling his eyes.

“Get in the goddamn cab, (y/n),” Rafael says sternly. “You need to go home. We’re done.”

You don’t say anything, but he sees your face fall as you nod and oblige, staggering into the backseat of the cab. Rafael follows, closing the door behind him, telling the driver your address. It’s silent for a few moments until you turn to him. He can’t make out much in the muted lighting of the cab but he knows you’re on the brink of tears; your lower lip trembles and your eyes are glassier than they were outside the bar. “Rafi, baby, ‘m sorry. I don’ know what I did but I'm sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Like you don’t know what you did! You were all over Carisi all night!” he barks, and he’s startled by how guilty he feels when you finally do break out into hysterical tears. He’d known you were drunk, sure, but maybe you really were that intoxicated that you didn’t know why he was upset until now.

“Sonny and I are friends, Rafi. I don’t want to be with him. I only want to be with you,” you stutter in between sobs, grabbing his collar. “I’m sorry for...whatever you thought, but it’s not like that.”

There you are again, tugging on heartstrings he didn’t know he had as you tug on the fabric of his shirt. The pang in his chest now tells him no, that you weren’t done even if he wanted nothing more than to escape this hell you were putting him through. “Can you stop?” he says gently. “Stop crying. Shh.”

“But you’re mad at me,” you whine. “I don’t want you to be mad.”

“Then why would you do that?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t wanna pay too much attention to you because you don’t want them to know about us.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to make out with Carisi!”

“I didn’t. I know I would never do that. I love... I love being with you, Rafi, honey, and I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You sniffle and try to stop crying, snuggling against him the way he ached for you to at the bar. Ultimately he’s struck by how much you care and how much he cares in return. For all his talk of not wanting to get too close he sure as hell didn’t like the idea of you getting close to anyone else, either. And living like that wasn’t fair to either of you, was it? He’s reached an impasse. Either he has to stop keeping you at a distance or stop keeping you at all.

“Do you really wanna end it? Please don’t. I’m sorry. Please, Rafi,” you beg.

“You kissed him,” Rafael says irritably.

“Oh really? You’re acting like I fucked him in front of the whole bar. I kissed his cheek!”

“So you do remember.”

“But I don’t understand why you’re that mad! It doesn’t mean anything! We’re just friends!”

“Like I’ve never heard that one before,” he scoffs. “What were you trying to do? Hm? Make me jealous? Well, you can fuck right off with that, (y/n).”

“I wouldn’t do that! Why are you being such a jerk, Rafael?”

“Why are you acting like a goddamn child?” he asks and immediately regrets it as you start crying again. You’re not uncontrollable anymore, but you’re clearly hurt and you shrug away from him.

“I’m drunk and so are you,” you hiss. “So maybe we shouldn’t talk until the morning before we say more things we can’t take back.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” he sighs tiredly.

Despite arguing professionally, Rafael could never win interpersonal spats, so he stopped trying. And some of his partners took it as if he didn’t bother to argue, then he didn’t truly care. One time his mother told him, “Buena suerte, mi hijo, if you think you can find somebody that doesn’t put you through hell,” after he’d ended yet another fling because they’d gotten into a fight Rafael didn’t see the point in resolving. Why should he make himself miserable because she felt slighted? Why should he have to apologize for saying words in anger that he obviously didn’t mean? Why should he have to give up any of his comforts for the other person? Why should you have to fight at all? Little disagreements were fine, he’d had those with you about cases and such, but there was no harm done in those. You both got over them and kissed and made up. But here and now, you were both hurt by each other’s words and actions, and there were tally marks etched on the chalkboard for a score to be kept between the two of you. Who would come out the victor? One of you would win, and the other would have to lick their wounds.

He’d seen it so many times before, his mother cowering down in front of his father, admitting fault and crying to herself as she did laundry or cooked. She always took the blame, even though he clearly was at fault in being the aggressor.

Suddenly, he realizes with horror that he is taking the role of his father in this situation. How many times had his father come home drunk, reeking of beer and cigarettes, hurling baseless accusations at his mother that she had been sleeping around? One time he had even asked if Rafael was his own son, which, nice try—Rafael was the spitting image of the elder Barba—but how different was Rafael right now? What was Rafael doing now other than fabricating stories in his head and reading more into looks and touches than he should have?

Jesus, he was far too drunk himself to be thinking about this now. All he wants is to go home.

But you don’t let him.

He walks you up to your apartment, and you leave the door open. “Please come in,” you say. “I don’t wanna talk tonight. Please just come to bed.”

“But—“

“Don’t argue with me anymore tonight. Save it for tomorrow,” you whine, slipping out of your heels, damn near falling until he catches you. “I don’t care what you say to me, Rafael, but I’m telling you neither of us is leaving. What we have is too good and you know it. No one’s going anywhere, honey. So come to bed. We'll figure it out tomorrow."

What a series of bold statements coming from the mouth that drank half her weight in liquor. He’s dumbfounded by how confident you are in them, but he supposes maybe it’s the alcohol itself that's giving you this unshakeable nerve.

Rafael can't help it, and he tightens his grip on your waist and kisses you harshly, tasting the sweetness of the orange and bitterness of the whiskey and the hints of salsa on your tongue as one of his hands threads in your hair. "You're mine," he growls.

"When did I ever say I wanted to be anyone else's?"

That's right, you hadn't. He’d only assumed, like the complete asshole he is.

-----

The light from your bedroom window bleeds in, waking Rafael up hours before he wanted to. It wasn’t often he had a Saturday he could sleep in and usually he took advantage of it, but your apartment is far too warm and he can't stay asleep. Memories of last night come back in fragments, and if the aching of his head is any indication, he had a few more than he should have last night. By the time you wake up, he's worried himself into oblivion. Were you going to smarten up and leave him?

“Mm. Good morning,” you say, looking up at him. “I’m never drinking again.”

Rafael chuckles. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Don’t talk so loud,” you whine.

“Do you...remember last night?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. Are you still mad at me?”

“A little. But I’d understand if you were mad at me too. And I—“

“Okay. No. I need coffee first.”

“Mm. Woman after my own heart,” he says, and you smile, but it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. Had he already lost you?

You’re still clad in that goddamn dress as you get up, but it’s lost the glitter and glamor from last night, as now it’s wrinkled and askew, the fabric clinging to your right hip and giving him a peek of your ass before you pull it down on your way to open your bedroom door. You might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, even though you’re hungover, even though you have mascara tear-stained under your eyes, even though you’re both upset with each other. And isn’t that worth holding onto, even if you had your own circle of hell reserved just for him?

After both of you clean yourselves up a little, you’re brewing coffee and swallowing pills to relieve the aching in your heads. You lean against your counter, and Rafael stands awkwardly in the middle of your kitchen, stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

“Okay. So talk,” you say, handing him a mug when the coffee is done.

“I suppose I should apologize,” he says, sipping his coffee, wincing at the acidity. "My accusations were out of line. But you can’t be hanging off Carisi if we're going to do this. I'm not watching that.”

“Hanging off Sonny? Really?”

Rafael rolls his eyes. “What do you call it, then?”

“I was...maybe a tad more affectionate than was appropriate, Rafael, I’ll give you that. But Sonny’s my partner, honey. And I’m not going to stop being friends with him because it makes you uncomfortable that we’re that close.”

“I didn’t say that, did I? I’m not going to control that. But cool it with the kissing, okay? And you leaning up against him all the time, the flirting, all that bullshit? You’re not single just because they don’t know about us.”

You look at him, stunned. “I didn’t know you cared that much.”

“What?”

“You always seem so distant. I really didn’t think you got jealous like that,” you say, shrugging.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs. “I just don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“Mm.”

“You’re leading him on whether you realize it or not,” Rafael says. “So cut it out.”

“I am not leading him on, Rafael! Jesus Christ. You’re friends with Olivia. I don’t say shit.”

“Last time I checked I didn’t kiss her and drape myself all over her last night, did I?”

“Well, whatever. To be fair, I think we both know I wouldn't have been so affectionate if I was sober. I get like that when I'm drunk," you say, your face flushing. "I'd have kissed Amanda too if I was sitting near her.”

"Maybe you shouldn't drink so much, then."

"Maybe not. Trust me, I'm feeling it right now."

"I bet you are."

You grimace, rolling your eyes as you gulp your coffee. “Why did you have to go there, though? Threaten to end it? Jesus, I know you were drunk, too, but... that was completely unfair.”

"I know,” Rafael says, sighing. “I just...”

"Why can't you just admit that you hurt, Rafi?" you ask suddenly.

"W-what?" he stutters. "What does that even mean?"

"I know I don't know all your ex-lovers' names or even how many there are. And I don't need to know. But I know it wasn't just Yelina that hurt you and you need to stop letting that get in the way of us. I haven’t left yet. I’m still here. Rafael, I'm begging you: can you stop thinking of all the ways this can go wrong and just let it be? Jesus, I can feel the pounding in your head sometimes. You need to relax. Entiendes?”

“(Y/n)... I...” he trails off, at a loss for words.

“You don’t have to say anything. Come here,” you say, and you put your coffee down, hugging him tightly. “I know where all of that came from last night, and I get it. You’re in pain; anyone can see that, Rafi. But I’m not going to be punished for crimes I didn’t commit.”

“Of course not,” he murmurs as you pull away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re forgiven. Just relax, honey.”

Rafael reaches back for you, hugging you close, not so much because he needs the support but so you don’t see how close he is to tears. It’s something his abuelo used to say, something Rafael never quite understood when he was little: “Never trust a hug. It’s just a way to hide your face.”

Sure, he was mostly joking when he said it, because one of Rafael’s younger cousins, Néstor, was infamous for stealing jewelry from his abuelita, and he’d always hug his accuser so they didn’t see his guilty smirk. But in hindsight, he thinks maybe his grandfather was also warning him about his mother’s favorite defense mechanism - whenever Rafael asked about the screaming between her and his father, she’d give him the tightest hugs, and he’d hear her sniffling in his ear, but he never did see her cry.

Well. He understands it perfectly well now, because god forbid you see him this emotional over this. Rafael still isn’t used to this tenderness - is this what being loved feels like? It’s been so long, he doesn’t remember. Or maybe this was this just a conniving way for you to put him through hell? Get him to trust you, maybe even love you, only to pull the rug out from under his feet?

Could you really be that cruel?

“Rafi, you okay?” your voice cuts through; like it always does.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t let you go until the heat behind his eyes fades, until he can make himself force a smile.

——

You are a fucking tease. He wonders how any man ever put up with it, although he thinks he may be the first man you reserved this torture for, and maybe he should be more flattered, that you feel this comfortable with him. But this? This was the very definition of cruelty. Apparently what you had done at the bar had only been a prequel to the hell you had in store for him.

He wants to quit his job if only to get away from you. He doesn't think he can handle it anymore.

You’d said that when you were ready to have sex, he’d know. Never in a million years did he think this was what you meant.

"You have sauce on your tie," you tell him as you're walking up to the courthouse. "I have that stain remover stuff in my purse. Let me take care of it."

"Oh, no, I know better than that," he laughs, but it's really not funny at all. "I have to present my case in fifteen minutes."

"That's enough time," you protest. "Come on, you really want to go up there with tomato sauce on your tie?"

He rolls his eyes, stopping you short by gripping your upper arm. "Given the choice between a stain and a raging hard-on, I'll take the stain," he growls in your ear. "I'm not playing your game today."

"Rafi..." you whine, and he hates you. He thought whining would be a turnoff, would be too juvenile but fuck, it goes right through him and shoves him right through the gates of hell, where he belongs. “Who said anything about that? I was just going to help you. Didn’t know you got excited from stain removal. I’ll bring you my laundry if you ever want to do it.”

"Shut up," he chastises, then looks down at his...spotless tie. He doesn't know what he expected. "Nice fabrication."

"I wasn't under oath," you say, blushing a little. He remembers the last time you'd told a little white lie a week ago, told him his suspenders weren't fastened correctly, and under the guise of helping him you'd gotten him completely riled, like he was twenty years younger, kissing him and feeling him up until he damn near took you on the couch in his office.

And then you left.

What the hell kind of game were you playing?

“I’m still charging you with perjury,” he snaps back, still holding your arm. “What was your plan, hm?”

“I plead the fifth,” you say, a brilliant grin playing on your strawberry lips. He wants to kiss you so bad, it takes all his strength not to.

“Of course you do, niñita.”

“I’m no little girl,” you say, stepping closer. He’s all too aware the two of you are outside the courthouse and the last thing he needs is for press or defense to see the two of you. He’s thankful he’s not on a high profile case.

“No, maybe not. But you’re definitely a bad one,” he says, letting go of your arm.

“Well, maybe you’ll have to punish me, papi,” you whisper, and then you’re leaning up to kiss him. A shiver runs down his spine - who had ever been able to get a reaction out of him like that? - and he damn near ravishes you right there.

But he can’t. He has five minutes now.

He pulls away, reluctantly, taking your hands from his shoulders and squeezing them in his own. “You’re awful,” he mutters, looking into your eyes. “Straight from the womb of Lilith.”

“Ooh. You wound me,” you say sarcastically as he lets you go and starts walking up the courthouse steps. You follow, and once you get to the courtroom you say, “Go get em, tigre.” And then you wink, straightening his tie.

“Do you ever stop, mujer?” he asks, exasperated.

“No rest for the wicked,” you snicker, pecking him on the lips.

He hates you so goddamn much.

---

“I’m working, (y/n),” Rafael mutters.

“You’re always working. You shouldn’t have taken on that other A.D.A.’s cases too. You deserve a break, honey. Let me give you one,” you say, moving closer to press your lips to his jaw. “We don’t have to go out tonight. I can cook something later.”

“What did I buy that dress for then, hmm?” Rafael wasn’t exactly in the habit of gifting things, but after seeing you in that green dress he decided you needed one like that in every color, and he started with a deep red number that he left by the door for you when you walked in his apartment. And, just like the green one, it caught his eye and pulled him from his work whenever you so much as moved.

“I think it’d look better on the floor,” you murmur. “Don’t you?”

“You’re killing me, (y/n),” he groans as he meets your eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I told you not to question me, Rafael—“

“Yes. I know. But I still want your consent.”

“So you are going to stop working?” you purr.

He chuckles. “You let me finish this paragraph and I’ll give you the attention you so clearly crave.”

“How long is that going to take, hm?”

“A lot longer if you keep talking,” Rafael snarks.

“Fine,” you say, and he foolishly thinks that is that, but you have other ideas, as always. Your lips attach to his jaw again, and normally he’d be able to work through that, but one of your hands slips down to stroke his thigh and he can’t even remember who this fucking email was for, never mind what it was about.

“You know it isn’t funny, right?” he asks, glaring at you.

“What, Rafi?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“Teasing me like that,” he says, finally closing the computer and placing it on the end table. He grabs you by the waist and pulls you on top of him, relishing in your squeal of surprise.

You laugh, squirming against his grip on you. He doesn’t let you get away, and pulls you down to kiss you roughly, his tongue dragging against yours as his hands tangle in your hair.

“You’re an awful woman.”

“Mm...so you’ve said,” you say, looking up at him, lust-blown pupils so wide that only a thin ring of iris can be seen. “What are you going to do about it?”

He doesn’t say anything, just kisses you deeply, again and again, moaning softly as he thrusts his clothed cock against you. “Mm, feel me? That’s what you’ve done to me all week.”

“What about what you do to me, papi?” You whimper. “How am I supposed to control myself, mm?”

“Talk about it,” he says, running his hands over your breasts. “Tell me, niñita, and maybe I’ll go easy on you. Make me a deal, cariño.”

“Mm. Love when you talk to me in Spanish,” you say huskily, leaning down to kiss him, trailing down his neck. “Mm, and then when you’re concentrating, you’ll cross your arms across your chest, and your sleeves are rolled up, and mm, all the muscles in your forearms flex, and I can see the veins in your hands bulge as you click your pen open and closed. Amanda makes fun of me for staring, but how can I help it, papi? And don’t even get me started on the suspenders, mm, love to pull on them when we’re alone in your office. Love when you kiss me like I’m your last meal on death row.”

He meets your eyes as you lift your head back up, groaning softly. God, hearing you put a voice to it... and then he kisses you just like that, letting go of any reservations he once had, his hands pulling up your dress as he rolls his hips against yours. “Mm, you’ve been a bad girl, though,” he whispers against your lips. “Letting them know you stare when we’re supposed to be working...”

“I can’t help it, papi,” you say pitifully, trying to grind against him and ultimately failing due to his grip on you.

He chuckles, pecking your lips. “So what do you want? I’ll give you whatever you want if you plead guilty.”

“Guilty to what?”

“Oh, you know what,” he says, running his hands over your now-bare thighs, squeezing your ass lightly, earning a moan from you. “Being a tease. Pulling me up short when I’m trying to work and putting me through hell with teasing me all week. What's your plea, niñita? We both know you're guilty, but I need you to admit it."

"Mm, and if I don't?" you ask, starting to unbutton his suit jacket before he takes your hands in one of his to stop you.

"Then I bring you back to your place."

“You drive a hard bargain, counselor,” you say, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Mm. I plead guilty to being so attractive that my boyfriend can’t keep his dirty hands off me when we’re supposed to be working,” you tease, smiling cheekily. You were like him, in some ways, sometimes, that brass ego shining through. Rafael knows more than anyone, though, that brass egos always serve to cover up deeper insecurities.

He laughs, drawing himself back to the present, kissing up your jawline to your ear, only to whisper, “Not what I said. Now, do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Your whole body shudders against him, and you suck in a breath as he sucks at your pulse point, your heartbeat racing wildly against his tongue. “Fine. I plead guilty to being a tease. Now for god’s sake, do something else, Rafi,” you whine. “Wanna feel you. Want you to make me feel good.”

“I think we need a change in location,” he says, more to himself than you, and carries you off to the bedroom, flicking on the light before laying you on the bed gently. You were a vision, that tight scarlet dress bundled up at your hips, giving him a peek of the black panties you wore underneath. He takes his suit jacket off, kicks off his shoes, staring at you the whole time. You stare back, blushing at the intensity of his gaze.

"Rafi," you whine. "Come over here."

He laughs. "Miss me already?"

"Need you."

"Well..you can't have these heels on my bed," he says, helping you take them off and then massaging up your legs until his hands are at the precipice of your thighs, your breathing rate audibly increasing as he reaches higher.

"Rafi. Please," you groan as he makes eye contact with you, starting to kiss back down all the skin he just touched. "Who's the tease now?"

"Oh, absolutely still you."

"Objection."

He chuckles against your thigh. "Yeah. See, the difference is I'm going to come back up here and give you what you want. You just leave after you rile me up."

"I had to go back to work,” you protest.

“Mm.”

“Are you actually mad at me? I can stop—“

“Oh, don’t you dare stop,” he says, kissing back up your other leg. “I get splitting headaches, and the interruptions help some.”

“Yeah, the aching goes somewhere else, huh?”

He chuckles. “Guess you could say that.”

“I didn’t want... I didn’t want the first time we had sex to be in the office,” you say. “I’m sorry if that’s what you thought—“

“No, I understand,” he nods, coming back up to kiss you on the lips gently. “I get it. I don’t want to pressure you. I don’t feel like I’m owed anything. Okay?”

“Okay,” you say, kissing him again. “I want to, now, though.”

“Ask and ye shall receive, princesa,” he says, riding up your dress even more to reveal a few inches of your stomach, kissing down to the hemline of your panties before taking them off. “Hermosa,” he breathes, staring at your pussy, already visibly slick from arousal. “Is it okay if I go down on you?”

“By all means,” you say. “If you want to.”

“Of course I want to,” he murmurs.

His tongue delves in, tasting you for the first time. You’re quiet at first, tentative, but as he starts to eat you out the way he kisses you: like a man on death row, as you had quipped, your moans become a chorus to edge him on. He teases you too, purposefully moving away from spots you’re more vocal at, only to be met by your fingers running through his hair and pulling at him, in any attempt to get him back over there. He can’t help but let out soft moans every time you pull hard. His hands reach up to squeeze your hips, and every so often he’ll look up to see your chest heaving, your face flushed. Sometimes your eyes would flutter close as you’d let out a moan, tugging at his hair. He can feel strands against his forehead - you’d broken through the gel he’d put in this morning. “(Y/n),” he grunts, slipping two fingers into you as his tongue swirls around your clit. “Mm, tan dulce...such a pretty cunt. Who are you so wet for? Hm?”

“Ohhhhh, fuck,” you moan, rolling your hips in a vain attempt to ride his fingers. “I think you can make a pretty good guess.”

“No,” he growls. “Tell me. Or I’ll stop.”

And to prove his point, he does - and he knows he’s being mean, verging on cruel, but there’s something about the way you’ve teased him all week that makes him think you’ll respond in kind to his edging. Besides, seeing you beg for him? His cock swells at the mere thought, never mind you actually doing it.

“Rafi, I was so close,” you whine.

“Then be a good girl and tell me who brought you there,” he whispers, his lips searing hot against your hipbone as he pulls his fingers out of you slowly.

“Fuck, fuck, it’s you, Rafael. Only you,” you say desperately, evidently realizing he’s serious. “Please. Please don’t stop.”

“Mm. Buena niña,” he murmurs, and with that he plunges his fingers back into your heat, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit. “Didn’t take long for you to beg. Such a good girl, (y/n), just for me.”

You whimper, rolling your hips. “Need your tongue. Please.”

Rafael chuckles, but he obliges, swirling his tongue around your clit again and again as he scissors his fingers in and out of you.

“Rafi—I— I’m close,” you choke out as his tongue flicks over your clit a few times in quick succession.

“Good girl. Come for me,” he says, and he knows you’ve let go once your legs start shaking and your hand clenches into a fist in his hair. He laps up whatever you give him, his tongue licking broad strokes, and he has half a mind to think he brought you over the edge again.

Once he’s done, he comes back to kiss you, his tongue against yours, and you moan at the taste of yourself from his lips. “Rafi. Want you.”

“Fucking insatiable,” he chuckles. “Mm. Then why don’t you undress me?”

You reach up and make quick work of his tie, but the buttons on his waistcoat prove to be more difficult. “Oh my god, Rafi, I’m going to rip this fucking thing. You had to wear a three-piece today?”

“If you rip this, I’ll never speak to you again,” he says, half-kidding. “Maybe if you calmed down... what do you need?”

“I want to be good for you,” you murmur. “I don’t have the kind of experience you have and I—“

“Are you fucking serious right now?” he cuts you off and grabs your hand, placing it on his clothed, swollen cock. “You feel what you do to me even when you’re fumbling with my clothes?”

Your tongue darts out to lick your lips, as you keep eye contact with him and palm him through his pants, and he groans, pulling you on his lap and kissing you, harder than he thinks he’s kissed anyone in his life, or at least anyone recently. He finishes the buttons on his vest and unclips his suspenders, kissing you the whole time, and he helps you lift your dress over your head, unclasping your bra and cupping your breasts in his palms, running his thumbs over your nipples, relishing in how you shuddered at his touch. You help him shrug his dress shirt off his shoulders, and he lifts your hips to push two of his fingers in you. You whimper in his ear, probably still sensitive from coming so soon before.

“You still have too many clothes on, Rafi,” you protest, running your hands up his undershirt. God, your hands were smoldering against his chest. He doesn’t say anything as you pull the fabric of the shirt up. He knows he’s under your mercy now, and if he’s being honest, he likes the constant relinquishing and then gaining of control more than he thought he would.

Your hands run over his nipples a little too long, causing his breath to catch, and he tries not to let out a moan but he ultimately fails. You noticed everything, anyway. He would’ve been found out at some point.

“Mm? You like that?”

He nods wordlessly, and you lift the shirt over his head.

“Help me get those pants off you and I’ll give you what you want, papi,” you purr in his ear.

"What I want is to be in you,” he murmurs, as you pull down the zipper and unbutton them. Rafael places you on the bed gently, deciding to take them off himself and his boxers follow suit.

"What the hell, Rafael?" you ask, blushing.

"What?" he asks, suddenly self-concious.

"L-like no one ever told you that you’re packing," you stammer. "Now I know where that ego comes from."

"Shut up, (y/n)," he laughs, relaxing a little, and comes to lie down next to you again, kissing you gently, his cock throbbing painfully with anticipation. Then, you run your hands over his chest again, and pinch his nipples lightly, and he's a mess, moaning your name, running his hands up and down your waist as he comes to lie on his back.

"Mm, now I know what to do to get what I want," you giggle, your hair falling in your face and -- oh, your tongue swirls over his left one and every nerve ending in his body is on fire. This, the culmination to the hell week, it might be too much. He might actually die right here.

"(Y/n), please," he begs.

"What?" you ask, moving your mouth to the other nipple and your hand moves down to his cock, stroking him gently.

"You need--oh fuck, (y/n), fuck,” he pants. Not many coherent thoughts run through his head at this point.

"Words, Rafael," you say, your voice lowering an octave.

"I-- you need to stop, (y/n). Too good. Need to be in you now or I won't last," he chokes out.

You oblige. "We'll save that for another day," you chuckle, lying down next to him. "How do you want me?"

"Too many ways to count. But... do you want to ride me?”

“Sure, but you need to help me out first. It’s been a while,” you say, blushing.

"Anything you need," he says gently, motioning for you to lie on your back, his tip teasing at your clit before he pushes himself into you, a few inches and you're already whimpering. "You good?"

"Yeah. You can keep going."

Your hair is splayed across his pillow, your breasts tantalize him with each breath...god, he was never going to be able to get this sight out of his head. He's stopped short for a moment, looking at you. You look up at him and smile, and he smiles back, an intimacy there that’s maybe unprecedented.

It takes a few minutes before he bottoms out fully, your walls quivering against him.

“Mm, fuck, Rafi,” you moan, running your fingers over his nipples again, bucking your hips against his. His lips attach to your neck, sucking gently on your left side, careful not to leave a mark. “Help me get on top.”

He does as you say, and you’re tentative at first, needing some encouragement from him, but your body knows what it’s doing. He’s so horny and strung out from the week that anything could bring him over the edge.

It’s his fucking nipples that threaten to do it again, though, and he knows they’re going to be sore tomorrow from all your rough ministrations. He never had a woman be so enthusiastic about playing with them before, and it’s just another way you drive him absolutely insane.

“(Y/n), fuck!” he groans. “You have to stop.”

You pout, drawing your hands away from him, quickening your pace. He leans forward to press his thumb against your clit, eliciting his name from your lips over and over again.

“Mm. Take my cock so well, bebita, mm, buena niña,” he says under his breath. “Such a good girl for me. Mm. Come on. Get off on my cock.”

He meets you thrust for thrust now, and he can feel it before you can, your walls tighten against him, and in seconds he has you flipped over, driving into you brutally from that angle as you fall apart, high-pitched moans and heavy breaths falling from your kiss-bruised lips.

The clenching of your walls is enough to drive him over the edge, and he bites at your shoulder without thinking, the feeling too much as he spills himself into you. “Such a good girl,” he whispers, kissing and licking at the bite mark. “Mm... fuck.”

"Mm, try not to think about that when we're at work," you laugh and he groans, flopping down on the mattress, his face pressing into the pillow.

"You are going to be the death of me, cariño," Rafael says, laughing too.

But oh, what a way to go to hell.

Tags: @caked-crusader​ @thatesqcrush​ @law-nerd105​ 

Want to be added to my tags? Let me know!

Next Chapter

Also I’d really appreciate feedback on this one since it’s my first time posting smut and I’m nervous ahhaha lol

[theglguidetowebcomics]

Full review: Girly

What’s Pink, insane, NSFW, hilarious, and somehow heartwarming at points? This comic is a ride and a half, and I’m genuinely surprised more people haven’t heard of this one… I’ve been wanting to talk about this one for a WHILE. 

So let’s talk about the elephant in this room… Because I think it just ate someone’s couch. 

Slightly NSFW review with spoilers below.

Girly, by Jackie Lesnick was a webcomic that ran between 2003 and 2010, (and really has some of those early webcomic hallmarks). Its monochromatic pink, vertical, with a poppy early cartoon feel. It’s also listed as a romantic comedy, which is… correct, but cuts a whole lot of what makes this comic good, short. 

This review was always going to be one of the 4 I really struggled with. And not just because I lost it the first time without a back up in a code glitch, got distracted by a pandemic, then procrastinated my way to finally making a second version in my new backup folder… No, well also yes but no. This was a comic I read when I was younger (and should NOT have read  when I was younger), and have always had a soft spot for. I’ll admit as much as this comic has its flaws or weird moments or just weirdness in general, its one of the few comics I’ve found myself rereading in its entirety more than once. And no matter how much I know it's coming, find myself sobbing, uncontrollably, at the final panel. There’s surprisingly a lot of heart in this comic, and a whole lot of honesty in just the direction the author took this weird little thing. But, first let me take of those rose tinted glasses as much as I can… (actually that might not work too well with a pink comic seriously whats with all these early 2000s lesbian comics being PINK?). And give this old comic a look and a bit of a dust. but , first...

Sex.

Getting to the point - page 3 of “Girly”

Girly is a NSFW comic. It’s not shy about it either. It hits the audience (and the main character) over the head with it literally in the first pages. It has sex positive characters, a sex positive world, some characters with… sex powers almost, and Dildos, a whole lot of dildos. Some even with smiley faces on them. It’s a pretty unavoidable part of the comic that makes up a large core of it’s humour and is baked into its wacky world. So if that’s not your thing, and it’s not really skippable in this case, you won’t like this comic.

But, if you’re alright with that part of it this might just be a hidden gem. Moving on.

Art

Artwork is always interesting in webcomics. They’re usually one man shows, have a weird niche / strong influences, and or usually go on massive journeys as the art improves. Girly is no different here. 

Girly starts out rough. Some poses are wonky and its a bit scratchy. Technically speaking it has a few issues, which is fine. Its a free webcomic, from the 2000s that didn't copy and paste faces. (Won’t name names, you know who you are). You can’t be too harsh on a free comic, though.

However, what the art style does, even early on is set the style and feel of the comic. Anime inspired faces, bold outlines, and blocky silhouettes that were really popular with 90’s and 2000s cartoons. It has a newspaper, manga comedy strip vertical style, too. It fits the style of story well as a poppy wacky story. It's the perfect art style it could take.

Its rough in the beginning, but moves on from its scratchy days, to loose pen brush, to finally a polished free hand poppy style. It gets more technically advanced as it goes along, but it keeps its core style throughout. It’s fun, a little unhinged, and just pares perfectly.

The one issue I have with the art is it comes off as a bit cramped. It certainly matches the energy of the story, but it also feels like it doesn't let the characters have any breathing room in the frame. It comes off as squashed, and can make some character poses hard to read. That’s the only complaint I can find though. The issue even fixes itself later in the story, but just very very close to the end. It looks great there, but the majority of the comic is a little cramped. Still that’s just a small complaint.

Nitpicking here but some panels need a lil more room

This a humour comic foremost. It's the biggest part of what makes Girly specifically Girly.

Humour

The humour is mostly wacky nonsense, playing off its insane characters, physics defying world, everything being dialed up to 11. It also works a lot like satire, poking at what influences it, and playing with cinematic expectations. The first page has Otra shooting someone into space on a rocket because they annoyed them, the first “adventure” the character’s go on is stealing everyone’s pants because they couldn’t find anything else to do. Then there’s the kidnapping adventures, knight trials, and slice of life shenanigans that happen. All of it as wacky as the last. I haven’t really found any other lesbian comics like it. Its not everyone’s tastes, but it is certainly unique.

If you’re into a willy wonka tunnel of over the top characters and plots, you’ll like Girly.

Characters

Girl is a LONG comic, it ran for 7 years. The art evolved, the story writing, jokes, and themes along with it. It was originally meant to run for only 50 strips... and it ended up with 764. 

so, there’s a lot to unpack.

Firstly, the premise of the story is somewhat simple. It focuses on Otra. The kinda straight man to the entire universe. She starts out almost depressed, out of place, and bored of the wacky inhabitants of her world. Until one of those wacky residents smacks her over the head with a giant dildo and won’t leave her alone for the next 7 years of run time. 

What follows is the sullen Otra being pulled around by the always cheery and zany nonsensical Winter as the sidekick for bizarre adventures. Otra’s depressive grounded view keeps the bizarreness funny, while Winter cuts through her negative attitude and causes a lot of the over the top plot. Leaving Otra to warm up to the world, and Winter to get less reckless as they balance eachother out. It’s a fun dynamic, and works as an emotional core of the story. No matter how weird the plot and rules of the world are, their relationship keeps the story somewhat focused and rewarding to see develop.

An example of bold wacky character designs from even early on

The comic isn’t just about them, though. As an ensemble comic there's plenty of side characters that go through arcs and beats as well. From el chubacabre, the man that woman find so irresistible that they sleep with him as soon as they see him; detective Clapjaw the street wise detective who is very bad at his job; Officer Hipbone and police guy from the cute P D; captain fist the ever popular bad at his job superhero who gets all the credit; the news reporter obsessed with captain fist; the woman with babies; Steak;  the elephants that just… appear and eat buildings; among many many others. A lot of whom also have nicely written character arcs and depth in later chapters. Many of the character however are simple and remain simple, which isn’t a bad thing. For such a large cast, having a diverse range of strange characters with strong identities and looks even if a bit simple stops it from getting bogged down. It strikes a good balance. Plus there’s plenty enough of characters with more depth later on. 

 All the character’s are insane, and over the top in a way that really sets up the world they live in and how it works... as dysfunctional as it is. There’s something very Cartoon Network about all the characters, but with some wider influences. something about  dumb characters, with very specific goals and quirks that work on their own physics to feed into the high energy insanity of the world. Its entertaining to read, and leads to a weirdly charming feel of the comic. 

Story and plot

For the bit people actually want to know about. What is it about?

Just a little bit of influences...

For the style itself the comic comes off as a mix between early 2000s slice of life-y anime, 2000s cartoon Network, and a dose of 2000s webcomic sarcastic action/adventure flare. It definitely has one of the most pronounced styles that I’ve seen, and even if it's very much a webcomic of it’s time it also goes a bit beyond that into something that feels personal to the author and honest. Its a batshit comic. But, it wears its influences on it’s sleeve and really plays with tropes and ideas the author found engaging at the time. It somehow comes off as refreshing in just how willing it is to go weird or niche for no other reason but because it wants to. It's what I appreciate most about the comic. It’s honest.

The overarching story of the comic is without a doubt about Otra and winter growing together as people. But with a comic that’s run for 7 years a little bit more happens in the journey, at least you hope it would. Girly runs on chapters, 15 in total (with 15 having sub chapters due to being the story’s climax), and each one of those chapters follows a different plot or adventure with Otra’s and Winter’s developing relationship gluing them together. 

The plots themselves are wild and vary a bit in quality. But for a long comic that’s understandable and expected. They go from solving elephant problems, super villains, body swapping, fantasy parodies, and all sorts of strange things. Sometimes a few plots drag and a few character arcs feel a bit bland. It still manages to be entertaining all the way through though. The plots themselves work to get the character’s to play off each other and explore the strange world it takes place in. Exploring evil teddy bears, or an entire town devoted to cheap gags. No matter what, all the plots work in fleshing out the world and pushing character’s out of their comfort zone or forcing them to change. There are some that are less fun than others, but none of them manage to be boring or useless. Which for a long comic such as this, is quite an achievement.

Conclusion

Girly is a hidden gem, Its an insane sex positive comic. A loose style and even looser physics. It’s bold and unabashedly itself. But, at its core it's about the love story of Winter, the wacky insane woman needing to slow down and open up, and Otra, a sullen woman who’s deemed herself only worthy of being on the outskirts of society. It’s two people growing together in a world that’s up to its ears in care bears, sentient dildos, earth shattering cloning, and jabs at 2000’s paste it comics. And somehow it all sticks together.

The characters resonated, at least with me, which may be the nostalgia talking. But by the end of the comic I can’t help but  think back on how long it took them to get there. The bits that made me laugh (a lot of them), the stupid parts, and the character’s arcs, as over the top they could be at times.  It may not everyone’s cup of tea. But it has a lot of heart at its core. (If you get past all the dildos). 

For all it’s flaws and weird bits. I still find myself going back to Girly. 

Maybe now, some more people will too.

[crearuru]

Bravely Default II, Martha x Adelle Chapter 1?

Spoilers for Chapter 3 through the end of the game chapter 6. Word count: 3,113. A lot. Like a lot. I'd count but tumblr wont let me copy paste the whole thing at once and its 4 am

Everyone knows Rhimedhal's winters are colder than the deepest ocean, and that the freezing winds could cut with a fury matching the most skilled skilled of mages. Of course, reading about it was one thing, but to a certain fairy from as sheltered and temperate an environment as Mag Mell, the thought to dress properly for the cold came far too late.

I knew it would be cold, but this is just ridiculous! If my wings were out they'd freeze before I could even get off the ground... Adelle pondered if keeping her disguise intact was worth the freezing cold. Surely, no one being around would allow her to drop her guard... but could she ever truly know who was watching? She'd set out to find her sister knowing she would need to lay low, but dressed for warmth as she was, and with such low visibility, she admitted she desperately needed shelter. She couldn't risk alienating herself from any nearby humans who might spot her braving the storm.

Even the monsters are hunkered down, she thought bitterly to herself. And where was this Rhimedhal town supposed to be, anyways? Surely she should've reached it by now... But she had to keep moving. Had to find somewhere to rest. The wind buffeted her, the ice it carried leaving shallow slices across her exposed midsection. The blizzard had arrived so suddenly, and her memory of the beautiful, gentle snowy night that it interrupted was far from a priority now. Leaving the Wayward Woods was something she needed to do, for her sister, but it was too late to return and beg for more supplies. She wondered how she would ever find those flowers she promised to bring back for her dear friend if she froze out here.

Is that... A cave? A section of darkness ahead, when the blinding white snow clung to everything else brought Adelle's heart a renewed vigor. She would not fall so soon into her journey, not to something as simple as the weather. As she tucked into the Serpent's Grotto, she lit a small fire and set up a tent. She would need to hunker down until the storm passed, which could take anywhere from hours... to weeks. As she regained feeling in her extremities, she realized the wind would blow out her fire if she did not go deeper.... and monsters within the cave may ambush her if she did not take caution. But first... she needed rest. Just an hour or two, and she would be fine. She wasn't in direct path of the wind, for she was behind an outcropping in the cave. She had some time to recover before pressing on.

And so, Adelle slept. Cold, hungry, and exhausted... But not alone. She dreamt of brown hair, of eyes locked upon her with a determination that matched her own, of flashes of silver and pink just out of the fire's light...

And the subject of these dreams knew she was there. Martha had asked Master Gwidyion if someone was coming, and he more than confirmed it. But was the stranger friend, or foe? That is what Martha set to find out. As she prowled the Grotto, her jaw firmly set, her eyes sharp and focused, she wondered if this visitor understood the ground upon which they trespassed. Were they here for the Lord of Dragons? To help? To harm? Master Gwydion had been sick for a while, and Martha worried he may not have much time left. Gwilym was next to inherit the position, but he was young. Needed time. Martha had served Master Gwydion for most of her life, as did her father before her, and his father, and so on. To neglect opportunities to extend his time on Excillant would just not do.

Having taken care of a few troublesome spirits, Martha reached the entrance to the cave. She saw a gray haired girl, in blue and grey, around her age, who she was surprised to see had not succumbed to the cold. Wearing a short shirt and loose pants in a blizzard? Sure, Martha wasn't exactly the picture of bundling up right now, but that was the result of the Dragoon asterisk! She wouldn't leave her midsection exposed to the cold if she weren't the Dragoon guardian, especially not going out into the blizzard full force. Looking closer, she noticed the girl was cut up something awful. The ice in the air had done quite the number on her face and torso. Foe or not, Martha knew she wouldn't likely make it without treatment. Not without some severe frostbite, at least. Eyeing the girl curiously, she picked her up and set her upon her broad shoulder. They would both do nicely with a warm cup of the good stuff in Gwydion's chambers. Then maybe she could ask about the intent behind her trespass.

Adelle opened her eyes to a brightly lit room, filled with greenery, sunlight coming in from the top of the chamber. It was so... warm. She smiled for a moment, content and warm, before feeling the bandages upon her face and stomach.

"Where... Where am I?" Adelle wasn't really expecting an answer, but she heard a calm, regal voice echo in her head.

"You are safe, child of... No? How very... interesting..." Looking up, Adelle saw a massive, silvery dragon, looking down upon her with piercing, yet gentle, red eyes. He seemed almost to take up the whole chamber, and yet he did not feel imposing. The weariness in his voice softened his aura considerably. Her mouth agape, she patted herself along her upper and lower back, wanting to ensure her wings were still hidden. After reassuring herself she would have felt herself revert to her true form, she turned her gaze back to the dragon. "Are you a..."

Martha, piping up from beside the massive beast, let out a quick laugh. "A dragon? Why yes, he is. This is Master Gwydion, and I am his guardian and caretaker, Martha." The brunette smiled, and despite the protective aura seemingly emitting off her, it was a kind and sincere one. But there was an edge to her voice as she continued, "You are trespassing on sacred ground. None are permitted here, in order to keep Master Gwydion, Lord of Dragons, Lord of Rhimedhal safe. State your business, or I'm afraid my act of bandaging your wounds may go to waste."

So it was Martha that bandaged these... Adelle idly traced her fingers along a particularly long stretch of red on her bandaged torso. She must have got cut up worse than she had thought from that ice. "I thought dragons were supposed to be creatures of myths to-" she caught herself. She did not want to find out if humans still carried murderous intent towards her kind. She had heard they would lie, cheat, betray and attack. But this one had bandaged her wounds...? "I thought dragons were supposed to be creatures of myth."

Gwydion's laughter rang through the chamber. There was no malice in it; it was a laugh like that of one who has reconnected with a long lost friend. "I am not the only one here who could claim connection to myth! But, I shall keep this secret for the time being."

Shit, Adelle thought, he's onto me. But at least... she turned her head to look at the woman beside the massive dragon. She definitely appeared to be human. The village fairies had told her that humans had "genders"; "males" were broad and deep of voice, "females" supposedly higher and... Well, there were many differences purported between the two. Adelle observed Martha's strong arms, her tender grip on her spear, the sparkle in her eyes. She couldn't see anything that would help her confirm or deny the accounts of the village fairies. "Men" were "he", "women" were "she"... Maybe asking along those lines would help her keep things straight for maintaining cover.

"Martha?" The brunette looked deep into Adelle, unblinking pools of emerald green. There was caution given towards the fairy in disguise, although she of course had no reason to believe Adelle was anything other than human. Rather, she suspected her motives for coming here. Perhaps there may be something she could do to-

"Martha!"

Martha snapped out of her brainstorming of ways to prove good or ill will for a moment. Her gaze had been returned this whole time.

"Yes?" She asked Adelle through her teeth. Surely no one would come to kill the Lord of Dragons without so much as a winter coat, right? But that brings up the question of what kind of person could make it this far into the Rhimedhal region without freezing to death or prepping properly. The girl's fortitude was certainly-

"Are you-" Adelle caught herself. She needed to phrase this in a way that wouldn't make her look like someone who doesn't know what a "woman" is. "What are your pronouns?"

Martha took a moment to process this. Just what kind of girl gets all cut up in the ice and wind, collapses on sacred and forbidden ground, gets brought to see a dragon, a DRAGON, a deity on earth, and takes the time to ask someone's pronouns before addressing any of the above! Was she trying to strike a nerve? Had she simply forgotten to shave? Martha knew the Dragoon outfit might make her look like a tryhard, some had gone so far as to whisper she was a... a... there were some rather unkind statements going around about her appearance since she'd been dressed in Dragoon, but she was a priest! ....a priest... Right. And should priests not assume sincerity until proven otherwise?

Martha took a breath, then let out a long, slow exhale. "I appreciate your consideration in not assuming. It's quite... modern of you. But, as I've drilled into the townsfolks' heads already, I am a woman. She/her is fine... What about yours? And your name? I can hardly dance around saying it forever."

Adelle was no better off than she had been before. She knew fairies couldn't tell men and women apart, but had she commited a faux pas? Maybe humans and gender weren't so straightforward as the texts implied. Gender was certainly seeming more and more to be more trouble than it was worth. She looked herself over, then at Martha. They both had similar figures, would it be a mistake to use she/her as well? Fairies had "Queens", and "Ladies", which texts about humans her sister Edna had shown her seemed to line up with she/her. She'd planned to go by that set since she set out, but seeing a human be so testy about it was giving her second thoughts.

"My name is Adelle. I am... also a woman. She/her is what I use as well." Phew. Nailed it. Martha's face had softened, and her cover wasn't blown.

Martha was perplexed. Something about Adelle's response gave her pause, but she was at least glad that she hadn't been incorrectly assuming. Those who live in Dragon's Grotto should not throw stones.

"So, Adelle... What business leaves one so woefully unprepared for the cold as yourself frozen half to death on the Lord of Dragon's doorstep? Why didn't you go to town first, or button up?"

There it was. Her first test of her cover story. Heavens only knew how the human would react if she found out Adelle was a fairy.

"I'm... A travelling mercenary. I'm looking for my sister, Edna. She ran off from our hometown, and stole some... very important town heirlooms. Leaving town is not something one normally does, but I needed to track her down. I need answers."

That should be good enough for Martha, right? Adelle stared intently at her, just waiting to see how she took the bait. She hated lying, but... There was a lot more in her future. She would just have to suck it up. She noticed the light shift as she looked over Martha, the twinkle gleaming off her armor, the tail protruding from her back that swayed as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, the tone to her voice that reminded her of the wind through holes in trees, or water running down the river, the way her emerald eyes looked like the bottom of her favorite crystal clear, mossy lake. She looked so much... prettier, than she expected humans to be. Humans were supposed to be scary, and while this one had indeed made implications of a threat, she had not attacked. She had even bandaged Adelle's wounds...

"Adelle, are you listening?" Adelle snapped out of her trance. "What, Martha? I just responded, d-didn't I?"

Martha shook her head, her long brown hair falling in front of her face, obscuring a soft grin. "I said, what hometown would leave you unprepared for the cold? You could have frozen to death."

"We're... An isolationist town. Not on any map. We stay in one place, so I was not expecting the cold to be so... Penetrating. Reading about it is different than the real thing.

"What do you mean, reading about it? Have you never seen snow before?"

"No, I'd only ever read about it."

Martha's heart sank for the poor girl. The snow and cold were bitter, and deadly if not respected, but to live a life without snow... Without seeing the mountains in spring, as the snow atop the permafrost melts and feeds small rivers... It simply would not do.

"That settles it. As soon as this blizzard ends, I need you to do me a favor."

Adelle hesitated. She really needed to get back to finding her sister. There's no telling what could go wrong if she couldn't track down the asterisks. Though, Martha's outfit seemed familiar somehow...

"I need you to go east, and collect some herbs for Master Gwydion. His health is fading, and these herbs can extend his time left on this plane. But if you bring them back, we will each bestow upon you a favor.

Gwydion spoke, softly but firmly: "I believe I know the service you wish me to provide, Martha. I can provide it. Adelle, if you can bring me these herbs, I will have enough strength left in me to scout for the potential whereabouts of your sister. There are some familiar feelings your presence brings that reminds me of Martha. I'm certain your sister will provide that same trace."

Martha was unsure of the "energy" her Master was talking about, but she did feel an attachment to Adelle. She was quite pretty, yes, but it was more than that. Her asterisk... Adelle and the Dragoon asterisk both gave Martha a sense of.... she.... she couldn't find the words for it. She had guarded Gwydion for years, for juuuuust under a couple decades, even, but the Asterisk was a recent acquisition. The Archbishop had given it to her just a half year ago, and it had given her a sense of self that mere satisfaction with one's purpose could not.

"Master Gwydion is correct, for the part I know he can provide. But I have something to provide as well. If you retrieve the herbs we need, I will show you a beautiful sight. You must see the snow from the way I can see it."

Adelle was confused. The way she could see it?

"And until the blizzard dies down... I hope you don't mind me offering, well, your own offering, but i rummaged through your tent before bringing you in here, and well... I saw you brought firewine."

Damn it! Adelle cursed herself. She knew she should've remembered to take a swig before passing out. No wonder she looked and felt so cold. Not to understate how cold it was outside, but firewine definitely would've helped warm her up inside the cave.

"Would it be alright if we shared a bottle? I see you've definitely stocked your supplies before this journey, oh ho ho!" Martha winked as she said this, to indicate the teasing nature. She... Some part of her wished to extend goodwill towards this trespasser. She had not yet made a move of hostility to Gwydion, nor his son sleeping near his tail, and she was, frankly, dying for company. Tending to the dragons was her life's work, and she would not trade it for the world, but living on sacred ground was terribly stifling to one's social life. The pleasures of the flesh, such as fine food, wine, even the touch of another human's hand on hers... She missed them. If only she knew Adelle wasn't a human, ah?

Adelle's stomach rumbled. She was cold, but no longer freezing. The innermost chamber of the cave was warm enough to support plants, but the chill from her stint outside had yet to fully leave her. She dreaded to think of what she might let slip after partaking, buuuuuut.... It was good to get some practice in. If she really planned on getting work to support her sister-hunt, she would need to get as much practice in with humans as possible.

"What the hell, sure. To a hopefully well spent winter?"

"To a winter well spent, indeed." Martha began to pour them each a glass, and they began to dine. There was fresh meat, berries, fruit, and edible flowers (Martha understood the meat, but wondered how anything else could be this fresh at this time of year). A few glasses in, they both loosened their tongues some. Martha told of the years spent training for the role of Guardian from a young age, and Adelle came up with fantastical stories about the escapades of her and her best friend from Mag Mell... She of course left out any identifying details of fairy status, or names. Flight stories were out as well. Humans walked everywhere. It was slow and exhausting. They dranks and sang, ate, partook in games, danced... and danced, and danced, and danced. There was something about their eyes meeting, the tipsy laughs they shared... Adelle thought that maybe humans aren't as scary as they were led to believe. She knew her sister loved humans, and she could see why. Spinning Martha around until she got dizzy was a real hoot. But when the night was done, they did not retire to bed, so much as fall down one after the other, asleep. Gwylim tried to wrest at least Martha to her usual patch of moss, but they had collapsed over one another and were snoring soundly. Surely, if Martha had reservations about Adelle, they would be gone on the morrow.

[marvelslut16]

The Pirate’s Princess

Pairing: Harry Hook x reader part 1

Soulmate AU

Synopsis: Everyone in Auradon had soulmates, (Y/N)’s twin Ben found his when he brought kids over from the Isle. (Y/N)’s compass pointed at the Isle as well. So what happens when she goes over there to bring Mal back and she finds the one she’s destined to be with? Will the pirate and the princess find a happy ending, or will they be ripped apart?

Word count: 3021

Warnings: One or two swear words I guess.

Soulmate Au

Everyone in Auradon has a soulmate, the problem is that not all of them meet. A compass appears on one's arm on their fifteenth birthday. The arrow will point in the direction of the person’s soulmate without fail, even if it’s always pointing at the Isle of the Lost. like mine always has. 

When Ben first decided to bring kids over from the Isle, I was in full support. I gave him the idea when we were kids. So, naturally I defended his plan to our parents, which ultimately convinced them that it was an alright plan. I was always the strategic twin, the one that thought everything through and had about five backup plans for everything. I even plan out how conversations will go before they happen, just so I know how to respond.

 But the problem with Ben’s plan was that he stopped after the first group of kids, he found his soulmate. He found Mal, and he seemed to forget that there were so many other children on the Isle that were suffering and wanted a better life. I’m sure if Ben knew my soulmate was over there still he would have continued to bring more kids over, but he didn’t know. No one knew, I was always so sure that there would be an uproar if both the Prince and Princess had soulmates from the Isle. So I told no one, not Ben and not Audrey, my best friend. 

My infatuation with the Isle always ran deeper than everyone else. Audrey detested everyone that was on it, Ben wanted to save the kids after we turned fifteen, but I was always obsessed with it. Even before my Compass appeared. Maybe I’m too trusting, but I think they’ve been punished enough on the Isle. 

“Ben, you promised you would bring more kids over,” I reminded him as we sat in his study.

“I know, but it’s harder than it looks,” Ben sighs, running a hand through his hair.  

Ben-” I was cut off by a knock on the door. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Evie smiles apologetically. “But Ben, it’s Mal. She went back to the Isle.”

“It’s all my fault!” my twin exclaims. “I-I blew it. She’d been under so much pressure lately, and instead of being understanding, I just went all Beast on her. I have to go there and apologize. I have to go there and- and beg her to come back.”

“Ben, you’ll never find her,” Evie frowns. “You need to know how the Isle and how it works and...you have to take me with you.”

“Yes!” Ben exclaims causing me to frown at him. Seeing my look he adds, “Uh are you sure?”

“Yeah. She is my best friend and we'll bring the boys too, because there's safety in numbers, and none of us is really too popular over there right now,” I can hear how nervous she sounds.

“Thank you!” Ben smiles. 

“I’m going too,” I interject.

“No! (Y/N) you are staying right here where it’s safe,” Ben growls.

“I can handle it Ben, I’m better at sword fighting than you. I can take care of myself over there. Plus I’ve always wanted to see it...”

“She already looks the part Ben,” Evie refers to my outfit. I’m wearing a blue leather jacket with a Gold rose on the back. There’s a little golden crown shaped pin on the front. I also have on yellow leather pants with blue zippers on them, and lastly black combat boots. Evie obviously supplied me with the outfit, my style has always been more edgy than regal. 

“Just,” Ben sighs. “Stay behind me and don’t talk to anyone.” 

“I can’t promise either of those things,” I smirk.

“But let's get two things straight,” Evie looks pointedly at Ben. “You have to promise me that I won't get stuck there again. And there's no way you're going looking like that.” I giggle as I follow the two to Evies dorm where Ben can change into more appropriate clothes. 

“How do you do this every day?” Ben asks as he pulls his leather pants to make them looser around his thighs.  

“Beauty is pain,” I laugh at my older, by two minutes, brother. “You get used to it, I promise.” 

Ben, Evie, Jay, Carlos, and I all pile into the limo and head for the Isle. I eagerly stare out the window as we get closer to said Isle, but my excitement soon turns into sadness. The four never wanted to speak of their time on the Isle, and now I really understand why. Everything is dirty, broken, and run down, no wonder the people here are so cruel. I would be too if I was forced to live in these conditions. Dad could have, and should have, done better. These are still his people, evil pasts or not. 

“I’m so sorry we didn’t take better care of you guys or the Isle,” I frown as I look over at Evie. She smiles and wraps her arm around my shoulders, pulling me into her side. 

“You didn’t know (Y/N/N). I know for a fact that if you did, you would have done something to help us.” 

--

Evie, Carlos, and Jay are telling Ben and I how to act on the Isle. Well, mainly Ben- I’m not clueless. 

“Okay, thanks,” Ben smiles. 

“Don’t say thank you,” I sigh as I bump into him while walking past. “And keep in eye on your wallet.”

 Ben starts checking his pockets and freaking out when he can’t find the wallet. “Guy’s it’s gone,” he freaks out as Jay smirks at me. 

“Missing this?” I smirk, holding his wallet between my first and middle fingers. He tries to snatch it out of my hands, but I move it out of the way. “Seriously Ben, you need to watch yourself.” 

The three villian kids demonstrate what they want Ben to act like on the Isle, and he manages to follow along. He even steals something from each of them, which is totally crazy. Ben struts off in front of us, humming in pride at his success. That is, until he bumps right into someone. And that someone happens to be Gil, Gaston’s youngest son, who recognizes us all. We escape Gil, and finally make it to where Mal is hiding out, Ben goes up to her alone. 

While Evie, Carlos, and Jay go and talk with themselves, I stare down at my compass. A compass that’s moving more than it ever has, and it fills me with hope. I might actually get to catch a glimpse of my soulmate, or maybe even meet them!

“How’d it go?” I ask when Ben comes back down.

“She’s not coming back,” his face falls. I immediately pull him into a hug and hold him tight. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Evie says firmly. 

We all watch Evie intently, so intently that we don’t notice been leaving.

“Where’s Ben?” I ask nervously.  We all start calling for Ben as a figure starts to approach us. 

“Ben, don’t scare us like that,” Evie scolds. 

“That’s not Ben,” I murmur, he isn’t carrying himself the right way. He fits in too much with the Isle to be Ben.

“Don’t scare ye?” the teen asks.”But that’s my specialty.” Jay quickly and discreetly pushes me behind him. 

The three start asking this guy, Harry apparently, where Ben is. But I can’t focus on what they’re saying. I’m too engrossed by Harry, his hook on his hand, his red jacket that fits him surprisingly well, the eyeliner that he can somehow pull off, and his ocean blue eyes. There’s a spark of familiarity that runs through me. I nervously look down at my arm, the arrow is pointing right at Harry. 

“And if you want to see him again,” Harry smirks. “Have Mal come to the Chip Shoppe tonight.

Alone. Uma wants a little visit.”

“Or you can give us Ben back now, it could really save your ego. Seeing as how I will take your ass down in a fight,” I smirk. 

“And who are you little lassie?” Harry runs his hook over my jaw. “You almost look like ye fit in here.”

“What’s it to you?” I raise an eyebrow. 

“I like to know the names of people that dare challenge me,” he smiles. 

“(Y/N).”

“A pretty name for a pretty girl. So why’s the Princess slumming it here on the Isle,” Harry asks. 

“I’ve always wanted to see it,” I shrug. 

“So your first stop was to get your hair colored?” he wraps a strand of my hair around his hook. 

“Uh, no. This is my natural hair,” he gives me a disbelieving look. I mean if I were him, I would too. Mom and dad have always made me wear a (Y/H/C) wig to hide my natural golden blonde hair with blue tips. None of the other royals stand out as much as I would if I showed my hair along with my style choices. I’ve heard the rumors at school saying I belong on the Isle, the hair would only make it worse. 

“Well I like it better than the boring color they make you wear over there,” Harry leans in and our noses bump.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply breathily. 

“Get your hands off of her,” Jay growls, finally snapping out of his shock at our interaction.

“I wouldn’t dream of hurtin’ her,” Harry caresses my cheek with his hook one last time. “I’ll be back for ye.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I smile as he walks away. 

“What just happened?” Evie asks.

“I found him,” I breathe. “My soulmate.” 

The three share a look before dragging me up to see Mal. 

“What’s up with her?” Mal asks after a while of me sitting around and not interacting with the group. 

“She had a surprise encounter with her soulmate,” Evie sighs.

“Well which Prince is he?” Mal smirks. “It’ll take a lot to handle all of her personality.”

“Harry Hook,” Carlos mumbles.

“Wait what?” Mal looks concerned now. 

“He was different with her,” Jay adds. “Genuine.”

-- 

Mal met with Uma earlier, and she made a deal with her to give her Fairy Godmother’s wand in order to get Ben back. Carlos and Jay went back to Auradon to 3D print a copy of the wand, and picked up Lonnie along the way. Evie, Mal, and I made smoke bombs at the hair salon to distract the pirates later. Now we’re on the way to actually confront said pirates, I have butterflies in my stomach. I’m worried that Ben will have been injured, and I’m excited to see Harry again. 

We walk up to the ship and confront the pirates, Harry is staring right at me. I give him a little smile as I take my place behind Mal. Mal and Uma start fighting causing me to roll my eyes. 

“Uma, give us Ben back and you can come with us,” I try to convince her.

“You’re brother already tried that Princess,” she laughs, causing all of the pirates but Harry to join in.

“Yeah, well I’ve been the one bugging him for months to bring more of you over. And it was my idea to begin with. Let him go and you and two of your men can join us on the limo back.”

“Nice try sweetheart,” she chuckles again.

“C’mon Harry,” I turn to him with a pleading look. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Come back with us, with me.” 

“(Y/N)-” Harry starts.

“Enough!” Uma cuts in. “Give me the wand.”

And Mal does, but Uma quickly figures out that it’s fake and fighting starts. I quickly grab a sword and I defend myself, never attacking any of the pirates. All they want is a better life, and I can’t hold that against them. 

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Jay dropping Harry’s hook into the water. I gasp and push back harder at the pirate I’m fighting, so I can head over to Harry. I’m heading towards him when I watch him pump into the water to save that stupid hook. “Harry!” I shout as I start running towards him.

Harry pops back up and clings onto the side of the deck, I quickly pull him up and into a hug. The action shocks both of us, but he soon reciprocates and holds me close. Something about being in his arms makes me feel safe, it feels like home. 

“I’ll be with ye before ye know it Princess,” Harry promises, pulling back and putting the red scarf from around his waist, around my neck. “Now you need to go.”

“Bye Harry,” I frown and walk towards the tunnel that leads to our limo. I send him one last sad glance as I make my way through, his sad eyes are staring straight into my soul. And with that, I walk away.  

I jump into the limo and seat myself in the corner, a single tear slips from my eye as we drive away from Harry. 

“(Y/N)-” Evie starts. 

“I really don’t want to talk about it E,” she frowns at my response. 

“Talk about what?” Ben looks away from Mal. I ignore him as I stare down at the damn compass on my arm. When I was a kid, I always imagined that it would bring me so much joy, not the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. 

“She had to leave her soulmate on the Isle,” Mal says lowly. 

“Not that it’s surprisingly,” I laugh humorously. “We should have known since we were kids, it explains my personality Ben.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowns. 

“You may be sorry, but we both know you won’t do anything to bring Harry over,” I lash out at him.

“It’s Harry?” he bellows. 

“Yeah dad,” I glare. “It’s Harry Hook, deal with it” 

--

There’s a knock on my door around thirty minutes after we get back to Auradon. I groan as I reluctantly open the door, where I come face to face with Evie. 

“I made a little change to your dress,” she beams. I raise an eyebrow in confusion. 

“What was wrong with it before?” I ask. 

“This look seems more fitting. I kept the high-low skirt and the corset,” she smiles. “But I changed the rest.”

“Evie did you make a whole new dress?” I frown.

“No, I had a different top option for you, so I switched it out. And Mal helped me change the color a little,” she winks. 

Before I can respond, she pulls the dress off of the rack that’s sitting behind her. My once blue and gold dress is simplistic black and white. The top is a white off the shoulder top, the skirt is high-low with black and white stripes in a diagonal pattern, and the corset is black and laces up in the front. “It looks like a pirate dress from stories I read as a kid,” I breathe as I run my hand over the skirt. 

“Well don’t just stand there! Go try it on!” Evie bounces in excitement. 

I quickly run into the bathroom and put it on, it fits like a glove. “Evie, it’s perfect,” I smile as I walk out of the bathroom.

“We can’t forget the boots,” she smiles holding up authentic pirate boots. “I may or may not have gotten them on the Isle when you weren’t paying attention.”

“You’re the best Evie!” I smile as I pull her into a hug.

“It’s just missing one last touch,” I follow her gaze to where Harry’s scarf was thrown on my bed earlier. I walk over and grab, deciding to copy him, I tie the scarf around my waist.

“Perfect,” Evie grins.  

--

“What are you wearing?” mom asks through a fake smile as soon as I step onto the deck of the ship. 

“A dress?” I ask sarcastically.  

“You look like a pirate,” dad grimaces.

“Well I like it,” I frown. “And what’s wrong with pirates?”

“Their evil,” mom frowns.

“You can’t possibly know how every last pirate acts,” my frown deepens.

“And why aren’t you wearing your wig?” Dad’s voice raises a tad.

“I’m sick of pretending to be someone that I’m not, this is me. Accept it or don’t,” I walk over to where Jay and Lonnie are standing. 

Like all things recently, the cotillion doesn’t go smoothly. Uma found Mals spellbook and dove out before the barrier closed, and she spelled Ben like Mal did six months ago (when Ben was in slight denial over who his soulmate was). Mal saves him with true love's kiss, blah blah blah. That stupid love shit that they are lucky enough to have. 

Uma runs to the edge of the boat and jumps over. “Uma!” I scream as I frantically search the water for her. I gasp, along with everyone else, when she resurfaces as a sea witch like her mother. 

“I’m digging the new look (Y/N), the scarf looks authentic,” she smirks and winks. “You look more real than we’ve ever seen you over there on the Isle.”

“Thanks Uma,” I smile down at her. “The offer still stands, ya know. You, Gil, and Harry could all have a place here, help us bring more kids over.”

“If you were the Queen then maybe I would, you’re the only genuine royal,” she shoots Ben a look. 

Mal turns into a dragon, did anyone know she could do that? She spits fire at Uma, who backs away laughing. Ben, being the new reckless him, roars and jumps in the water to be between them. He tries to convince her to stay and help, way to steal my idea again bro. Uma gives Ben his ring back, before swimming away. Uma turns around on last time and nods at me before disappearing.  

As the party dances and celebrates, I head to the edge of the boat and look out to the Isle, will I ever see Harry again?

Part 2

[aggieadventuress]

I’m Okay, I Promise. Except I’m Lying.

by @aggieadventuress for @romeoandjulietyouwish for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark

Summary: 5 times Peter told Tony he didn’t want to be touched +1 time Tony didn’t listen.

Read on ao3:

Peter jolted awake in bed, panting from the adrenaline of his nightmare and soaked with sweat. He tried to orient himself but he hadn’t smacked his head on the top bunk like normal and clearly this wasn’t his bed, it was too soft. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the city outside their apartment walls and he felt completely lost for a few moments before realizing that he was in the guest bedroom at Mr. Stark's lake house. Because it had been 5 years, and he didn’t have a set of bunk beds in their apartment in Queens. Because May didn’t live in that apartment anymore, she lived in Manhattan. With Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark’s head of security but more importantly, her boyfriend.

He was staying at the lake house for the summer while May and Happy were off on some relief worker trip. As bad as things were in New York after the second snap, a lot of countries were even worse off and May, ever the philanthropist, had to help. She originally wasn't going to go when her hospital brought up the opportunity, worried about Peter, but he assured her he would be fine because he didn't want to stand in the way of her helping people who really needed it. He was fine, or was at least close to fine. Or, he was getting to be close to fine.

Peter could not let himself spiral further into his state of panic, it was hard enough to breathe already, he needed to focus on doing that right now. He stared down into his lap, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. In and out, that’s all he needed to do.

Peter was so focused on controlling his breathing that he didn’t hear the creak of the door as someone walked into his bedroom. He felt the dip of the bed next to him though and turned his head to the side to verify who he already knew it was.

Mr. Stark was wearing plaid pajama pants and a worn AC/DC shirt and had clearly actually been asleep, which was so different from the man Peter had known before the snap. Before Mr. Stark would have been wide awake, wired on caffeine and inventing something crazy in his lab, but that just showed how much had changed.

Before either of them had time to speak, a bleary-eyed Morgan appeared in the doorway.

“Peter? Daddy? Are you okay?” Morgan asked, drowsily rubbing a fist at one of her eyes still half-asleep.

“I’m fine Morgs, I’m sorry for waking you up,” Peter replied, his stomach clenching with guilt for disturbing her.

“You didn’t wake me up, Daddy did. He was being loud in the hallway talking to Friday so I wanted to see,” Morgan said.

That didn’t make Peter feel much better, because whether he had directly woken Morgan or Friday and Tony had woken her up while discussing him, which is what he assumed would have been happening, it was still his fault.

Morgan came into the room and crawled up on the bed on the side of Peter that Tony wasn’t occupying. “Did you have a bad dream?” She asked innocently and then without waiting for a response, “I have bad dreams sometimes. You should ask daddy for a hug. That will fix it.” Morgan spoke pragmatically as if the solution to all of Peter’s problems was that simple.

“Kids right, I’ve been known to have pretty spectacular hugs. Can scare away all of the monsters within a three-mile radius,” Tony deadpanned, but his tone was betrayed by the small smile on his face.

Morgan nodded vehemently in agreement with her dad’s statement. “It’s true,” she added seriously, “I’ve never once seen a monster while daddy was holding me. I’ve never even felt scared if I was in his arms.”

“I have,” Peter muttered under his breath, thinking it was too quiet to hear and still staring at his sheets so he didn’t see the absolutely crestfallen look on Tony’s face at his confession. Tony knew immediately what Peter was talking about. The kid had dissolved in his arms on an alien planet and no amount of hugging would ever make the fear from that memory go away.

“Could I at least try?” Tony asked, moving in for a hug, but pausing when Peter flinched and moved away from him.

“No thanks. I mean, I’d rather you didn’t…I mean, I’m fine. I really don’t want a hug right now. I actually could use a little bit of space. A few minutes, just to myself. Please.”

Tony dropped his arms slowly to his sides and stood from the bed. “Of course, whatever you need Peter. But it’s a standing offer, free hugs whenever you want them. Day or night. It’s the same for Morgan, I’m always available.

Peter nodded but his gaze had returned to his lap. Tony reached out a hand as if to pat him on the shoulder but then thought better of it. He wasn’t a psychologist but after all of the trauma Peter had been through, he figured it was a completely valid response to want space right now. He needed to respect that, as much as it killed him to watch his kid suffer. He just wanted to pull him into his arms and hold him tight until all of his pain melted away, but that wasn’t an option if it wasn’t what Peter wanted.

“Well, I’m going to take the princess…” Tony started to say.

“I was promoted to Prime Minister daddy, you know that,” Morgan interrupted exasperated.

“Sorry, of course. I am going to take the Prime Minister back to her own bed now, do you think you can try to get back to sleep?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded into his lap again and Tony couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped him seeing how dejected Peter was.

“Right,” He said, not believing Peter for a second, “well if you can’t, let me know and we can watch a movie or something. I hear 2 am is the best time to watch Star Wars.” When even that didn’t elicit more than a grunt of response, he knew it was time to let it go and give Peter the space he so clearly wanted.

“Come along Madame Prime Minister,” Tony said, scooping Morgan into his arms and carrying her through the door.

“I answer to your Royal Lordship now,” Peter heard Morgan explain from the hallway on the way back to her room.

“I’ve been thinking that I should take over the world. I think people would be a lot happier as my royal subjects then they are right now. And Gerald has said he would be my Vice Queen and I think he’d do a pretty good job. Mommy can be an advisor and I think you would make a very good royal train conductor. Did you know that an engineer is another word for a train conductor?”

“Thanks, Morgana, but I think you should wait until your a little older to start planning your world domination. Mull it over a bit more. It’d be awfully time consuming and I don’t know that you’d have time to host your famous tea parties.”

“Your probably right. I’m much too busy to be a ruler right now.”

Peter lay back in his bed, still wide-awake, staring at his ceiling and listening to the conversation Tony and Morgan were having as the man tried to put her back to bed. He ached to let the man hold him and comfort him like he did Morgan. He wanted to let his mentor wrap his arms around him like some sort of shield from the realities of the world. But he couldn’t have that. He was too broken and too damaged to let Tony touch him - to let anyone touch him right now. If he gave in and let Tony hold him, Peter knew that little bit of comfort would make him fall apart and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to put himself back together again.

He was caught up in his own self deprecating thoughts and didn’t immediately notice when Tony reappeared in his doorway.

“So what’s the plan, sleep or movie? I am absolutely down for either,” Tony offered quietly.

“I’ll just go back to sleep I think. Thanks for the offer though,” Peter answered, exhaustion making his voice sound hoarse.

Tony looked at him appraisingly, seemingly trying to decide if he was going to let this go or if he was going to push the issue. “Okay, well if you need anything, just come get me, or if you don’t want to, ask Friday. I don’t usually sleep much anyway so don’t worry that you might wake me, I’ll probably be working or something anyway,” Tony tried to comfort Peter, but he saw through the offer. He knew Tony actually did sleep now that he had his own kid and a somewhat normal life, but he appreciated that the lie was supposed to help ease his guilt.

Tony hesitated in the doorway and then turned to go. He stopped a few steps into the hallway and turned back to look at Peter. Peter met his eyes for the first time that night.

“Peter, you can talk to me about anything,” Mr. Stark’s voice was pleading, “You know that, right?”

Peter nodded and then moved to lay back down under his covers and added, “I’m okay, I promise.”

- 2 -

It was Friday and Peter had been at the lake house for five days and hadn’t slept through the night for any of them. He had explicitly told Friday not to inform Mr. Stark when he had a nightmare but either she hadn’t listened, or the man had some sort of sixth sense because he would always come. Before Peter could orient himself and catch his breath, Mr. Stark would be there. They had fallen into a routine of sorts; the man would sit next to him in silence for a few minutes while Peter collected himself. If Peter was having a lot of trouble, Mr. Stark would breathe really deeply, slowly, encouraging Peter to copy him. Once he had calmed down a bit, Mr. Stark would ask him if he wanted to talk and Peter would always say no. After the second night when Mr. Stark had tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Peter had violently flinched away and ended up tumbling out of his bed, Mr. Stark had kept his distance. Peter wanted to scream in frustration at how much he wanted to give in and just accept a stupid hug, but he couldn’t. Mr. Stark would always offer to stay with him or to go down to the living room or something, but Peter always sent him away, and the man always reluctantly listened.

Apparently, Friday night was movie night, and Morgan had made it very clear that his participation was not optional, no matter how exhausted he was, so that is how Peter found himself standing just outside the living room on the verge of a complete panic attack. The Starks were all sitting on the couch, Morgan between Pepper and Tony, and they had clearly left a space for him on Tony’s other side. Fortunately, everyone was focused forward on the television discussing the movie selection so no one noticed Peter staring at the couch and having an internal freak-out about whether or not he could actually handle sitting that close to Mr. Stark.

Finally, he decided to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the room and made to walk over there. His movement caught Tony’s eye.

“Hey kid, come sit with us,” he offered, patting the empty cushion next to him.

“Yah Petey, come sit with us,” Morgan echoed.

“No thank Morgs,” Peter opted to respond to her instead of Tony, hoping it would be easier. “I take up a lot of space so I’m going to claim this whole chair for myself.”

Morgan squinted her eyes and stared at him as if trying to assess if this was an acceptable explanation or if she found his “a lot of space” determination to be accurate. He must have passed her inspection because she didn’t look happy, but she eventually nodded and turned back toward the TV.

Tony was not so easy to appease and the man stared at Peter with a questioning look in his eyes. Peter wanted to tell him that he was afraid to sit next to him in case he relaxed too much and fell asleep. He was afraid that if he curled up in that corner of the couch, so close to the protective embrace of his mentor, he might be able to breathe a little better and abate his anxiety just for a bit. If he let himself sleep, he would dream, and if he dreamt, he’d be on Titan again and he just couldn’t handle it right now. He had adjusted to the near constant state of tension in his body and knew better than to all of a sudden let himself relax.

He broke eye contact with Mr. Stark, settled into the arm chair, and turned to face the TV. Now that he was seated Morgan instructed Friday, “Play the Incredibles, Friday!” And the movie started.

Peter could barely focus on the screen because he was so tired. Despite his distance, he could hear the comforting, steady beating of Mr. Stark’s heart underneath the noise of the movie. Combined with the dim lighting in the room and the very comfortable chair he was curled up in, keeping his eyes open was a battle. Each blink lasted a bit longer than the one before until his eyes slid shut and stayed closed.

The moment he drifted to sleep in the Stark’s living room, he ‘awoke’ in the dark void of the soul stone. Alone. Completely alone. The nightmare tormented him with the feeling of dust coating his nose and mouth, with the sticky heat from his suit and with the familiar panic of being lost and abandoned in a sea of nothing. He had no concept of how much time passed in his dream, but in the midst of the nothingness, he felt an arm beneath his knees and another under his back, and then he was being lifted in the air. Peter abruptly awoke from his dream and jerked away from whatever was holding him and tumbled to the ground, his head smacking into the wooden floor with a loud ‘crack.’

“Christ kid, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Tony dropped to his knees next to Peter, his hands reaching out for the boy to check for injuries before he stopped himself and put them up in the air in front of him as if to show he meant no harm. “The movie was over and you were asleep. You’ve looked so tired lately and I didn’t want to wake you. I was just going to carry you up to your own bed. I thought that would be more comfortable. Pepper just took Morgan upstairs. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize you were having a nightmare. Although I should have guessed.” Tony said the last part more to himself.

Peter was still lying on the ground but pushed himself up so he was resting on his elbows. “It’s not your fault. Thanks for waking me, I can take myself to bed though,” Peter said and then pushed himself the rest of the way up. He swayed on his feet for a few moments and Tony’s hand hovered just below his elbow, ready to catch him, but he regained his balance after a moment.

“Peter,” Tony’s voice sounded desperate as he pled with Peter, “I want to help you. I know that you have been through so much, so much more than anyone should ever have to go through, please. Talk to me, let me help.”

Peter shook his head and started to walk toward the stairs, to go upstairs and lie awake in his own bed since he was certain there would be no sleeping for the rest of the night. “I appreciate it Mr. Stark, but I just need sleep, that’s all. Nothing wrong.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark started again but Peter didn’t allow the man to continue. He glanced behind him before continuing upstairs and assured Tony, “I’m okay, I promise.”

- 3 -

Morgan spent all of breakfast on Saturday pestering Tony about going down to the lake to swim because it was a "bazillion and six degrees daddy" and she absolutely wouldn't survive the heat. Tony had protested that he had work to do, and as much as he'd like to go swimming, she would have to wait until later that afternoon so that he could watch her.

Peter was passively listening to their conversation, picking at the waffles on his plate, so exhausted that he didn't even feel hungry. Tony had been eyeing his still very-full plate but so far had not commented on it.

"I can take her," Peter heard himself offering, not entirely sure what compelled him to say that.

Tony looked at him with surprise, "Are you sure? You don't have to, she won't actually die, I assure you."

"Sure," Peter said. He had made the offer and Morgan had perked up considerably from her moping at his suggestion, he wasn't going to back out on her now. It wasn't her fault that he couldn't sleep and that he constantly felt like there was electricity running through his body from persistent anxiety.

"Daddy!" Tony was standing in the kitchen and heard his daughters scream coming from down by the lake. He dropped the plate he was holding and didn't even register as it shattered on the ground next to him, he was already out the door and running down to the dock.

He was pressing buttons on his watch, calling a medical suit to himself in preparation for whatever he was about to encounter. He wouldn't even let himself think of what could be waiting for him and all the hazards that swimming in the lake presented.

His heartbeat slowed just slightly as he approached the dock and saw both his kids were safely on dry land, alleviating his deepest fear that he had refused to admit, that he would find one of his kids drowning in the lake because he had been too 'busy' to come down here with them. He would never forgive himself it that ever happened and vowed that no one would go near the water again without him present. Him and a suit standing by for whatever emergency might present itself. He could plan for all that later though, right now he needed to determine what had caused his daughter panic.

As soon as Morgan caught sight of him, she ran to meet him and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward Peter. There were tear tracks running down her face and she was hiccupping through her own sobs.

"Something is wrong with Petey," she cried, "I asked him to jump off the dock with me and then as soon as we got in the water he started freaking out. He pulled us both out and he's just been sitting there crying and breathing real hard. He won't answer me and he pushed me when I tried to hug him," Morgan sobbed even harder.

"It's okay," Tony tried to soothe as they came up next to Peter, "Can you please go wait for me on the porch Morgs? I don't want you near the water and I want to be able to help Peter without worrying."

Morgan nodded, though she seemed uneasy about leaving Peter.

"Mommy is on her way home," Tony soothed her. Pepper would have gotten a notification as soon as he activated a medic suit and would probably be flying home in her own as they spoke.

“In fact," Tony thought, "Why don't you take my phone and call Mommy and talk to her. She is headed back but might be a little bit worried and will want to hear from you that you are okay." Tony pulled his phone out, Friday would have already let Pepper know everyone was okay, but it couldn’t hurt. Morgan took the phone and looked at Peter's trembling form with fear in her eyes before running toward the cabin.

With one less thing to worry about, Tony turned to the shaking kid in front of him. For the most part, Peter sat motionless except for the trembling in his shoulders. Not wanting to startle him, Tony moved around to get in front of him and in his line of sight before getting down on his knees to be on eye level.

His heart broke as he took in the sopping wet hair on Peter's head and the lake water mixing with tears as it dripped down his face.

"Hey Pete," He tried to be as gentle as possible, "are you with me? Can you tell me where you are?"

Peter continued to just stare directly ahead, eyes glazed over, not really looking at Tony, but past him and over the water. Tony very slowly reached out to place a hand on Peter's shoulder, but as soon as he made contact, Peter jolted into awareness and practically leapt backward to get away from him. Tony saw the glazed over look had been replaced with wild-eyed terror and he sat motionless, hands held up in front of him trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, waiting for Peter to recognize his surroundings.

After a few moments, the heaving breaths in Peter's chest slowed and his gaze stopped wandering around and settled on Tony.

"Hey bud, Are you with me now?" Tony tried again, keeping his voice soft and slowly lowering his hands, keeping them in view still in an attempt to be as non-threatening as possible.

Peter waited a moment, giving Tony an assessing gaze before nodding almost imperceptibly.

"That's really good. Can you help me understand what happened?" Tony cajoled.

Peter paused again before shaking his head and then softly adding, "I'm fine."

Tony had to hold back a snort at such a blatant lie from the kid, but it wouldn't do him any good to make Peter feel belittled.

"Is Morgan okay? I didn't mean to scare her," Peter added, finally looking up to meet Tony's eye.

"Morgan is completely fine. She just wanted to make sure you were okay. She's with Pepper."

Peter wasn't completely sure how it had happened, but the moment his feet his the water he was back in the lake, wrapped in a parachute and drowning. His brain stopped working but some instinct kicked in and the next thing he knew he was pulling himself and Morgan out of the lake, much to Morgan's displeasure.

"Petey, why'd we get out?" Morgan asked, the pout on her face evidence in her voice.

Peter tried to reply to her but all that came out was a wheezing breath and then he wasn't sitting on the dock anymore. He was drowning again or floating in nothingness as dust. His body was on fire from the pain of turning to dust, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen. He was too far gone to hear Morgan screaming for her dad. It wasn't until he felt the hand on his shoulder that he came back to awareness and jumped back out of reach of whoever might be trying to hurt him. He looked around frantically to make sure Morgan wasn't nearby and in any danger from this attacker but eventually his gaze settled on Tony and he realized that the threat was all in his head. He should have known that his spidey-sense would have warned him if there was a true threat and it had been nearly silent since he'd arrived here. The buzz of his anxiety was his only companion right now.

He registered it was Tony in front of him and felt an overwhelming urge to just run and collapse into his arms and let his mentor comfort him, but he couldn't. He craved the comfort he knew Tony would provide, but he couldn't accept it. He was so on edge, he was terrified of letting the man get close only for Peter to panic and lash out and hurt him. So he tried to push him away physically and emotionally. It was better for them both that way.

"Let's get you warmed up," Tony said, holding out a hand to help Peter up, but the kid ignored him and stood, somewhat shakily on his own. They walked up toward the house together, Tony keeping one hand behind Peter, making sure not to touch him but wanting to be prepared if he stumbled. When they got inside Tony led Peter upstairs to his and Pepper's room. Peter hesitated in the doorway before following him in. He pulled out the fluffiest towels that they had and draped one around Peter's shoulders. He made to use the other to towel off the kid's hair, but as soon as Peter registered his intent, he was ducked out of the way.

"I can do that," Peter said. Tony wanted to scream but held it back and tried to keep his face neutral.

"Are you sure? Because I really don't mind," Tony tried one last time.

"Yes," Peter said vehemently.

Tony relinquished the towel and stood back as helplessly as Peter dried his curls somewhat awkwardly with one towel while trying to hold the other one around his shoulders. Tony finally decided he needed to be helpful and went to get some warm clothes out of Peter's room. The kid still didn't have very much, and Tony made a mental note to order him more clothes, before returning to his own room to supplement the kid's things with his own sweat pants and hoodie.

He held out the clothes to Peter once it was clear the kid had accomplished all he was going to getting dry by himself and Peter disappeared into the bathroom to change. Tony sat down on the bed while he waited.

When Peter reappeared looking even younger than he was, if that was possible, wearing Tony's clothes, Tony tried to bring up the conversation again.

"Hey, kid. We don't have to talk about it, but if you want to, I'm here. There's nothing to be ashamed of, you have been so brave and you have every right to get a little freaked out by the water," Tony tried to start the conversation. But Peter wasn't having it.

Peter shook his head no and replied, "I'm okay, I promise,"

- 4 -

It was July before he knew it and a month had passed at the lake. Peter was actually enjoying his time at the lake - playing with Morgan, working on tech with Tony, having family dinners - but he still couldn’t sleep and he still couldn't get to close to his mentor without feeling like he was going to dissolve. Tony knew something was wrong and kept trying to broach the subject, but Peter refused to talk about it and Tony never got frustrated or pushed him. He steadily reminded him that he wasn't going anywhere and would be there when Peter was ready to talk.

Peter felt on edge the whole day and couldn’t pinpoint why. He tried to push it aside and enjoy the hamburgers they grilled and the shortcake that Pepper had baked. As darkness fell, they moved from the patio table down to some lounge chairs facing the lake and settled in for the show.

The first firework burst in the sky just a moment before the noise of the explosion. That almost unnoticeable delay between the speed of light and the speed of sound. It was there though, a fraction of a second for Peter to enjoy the beauty of the firework before the sound caused his head to erupt into pain and his mind to start spiraling into the bad place.

All of a sudden he was no longer at the lake, he was on a battlefield, fighting against aliens who they had already lost to once. There was a cacophony of violence around him and Peter couldn’t stop to process it because he had to keep fighting. His life and half of the population of the world depended on it.

More fireworks went off and Peter collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself with his head between his knees and his hands clawing at his ears trying to block out some of the sounds. A hand reached out to touch him and it felt like fire coming in contact with his skin. His senses were out of control and he could count the fibers in the shirt he was wearing and the blades of grass beneath his legs. He heard screaming and then realized that the noise was coming from him.

Peter fought against the stars in his vision, trying not to pass out from the pain in his head, and then something metal brushed his hair and a helmet was placed over his head. Immediately, the world dulled. The noise of the fireworks was muffled, the light from the moon and the fireworks was dimmed to nearly black. Peter let out a shuddering breath, trying to get ahold of himself and then slowly lifted his eyes, looking through the lenses of the iron man helmet to see Tony squatting in front of him with a look of panic on his face. When Tony realized that Peter was looking at him, he mimed standing up and going into the house and then tilted his head at Peter to make it a question. Peter nodded, which felt odd in the bulky helmet and painfully got to his feet. Mr. Stark didn’t try to help him after his touch had elicited such a pained scream earlier, but he hovered close by in case he was needed.

Slowly, they made their way back into the house, Peter flinching every time another firework went off despite the silencing effects of the helmet. Once they were through the door Tony led him down the hall to the room he was staying in and then directly into the closet. Peter wasn’t sure why, but noticed the complete darkness of the space and thought it was as good of a place as any. Out of nowhere Mr. Stark produced a set of noise-canceling headphones and a pair of very dark sunglasses and held them out to Peter. Peter didn’t look forward to removing the helmet but knew it would be more comfortable to have the headphones on. The less coming into contact with his skin, the better.

Slowly he lifted the helmet, surprised how well the closet was blocking the noise, though it was still too much to hear. Quickly, he exchanged the helmet for the headphones and the glasses and settled them on his face. Then he sunk down to the floor, curling back in on himself and trying to touch as little as possible to his skin.

He couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes. The salt burned on his oversensitive skin but that did nothing to stop him. He just kept his head down let himself silently cry. He wanted nothing more than to let Tony shield him from all the noise and light and fear, he knew being touched would be excruciating. Instead, they just sat there in darkness for what seemed like hours. Eventually, Peter’s senses dulled back to a more manageable state and after looking to Tony for confirmation that the outside world would be quiet, Peter eased the headphones off his head and was met with blessed silence.

“Hey,” Tony spoke so quietly that Peter wouldn’t have been able to hear him without his enhancements, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Peter answered automatically.

“Kid,” Tony tried again, still gentle but clearly not believing him, “after everything that has happened, I should have thought about the effect explosions might have. That’s on me. Your response was valid and I’m sorry to have triggered that. If you want to talk about it, with me, or even with someone else,” Tony tried to offer but Peter cut him off.

“It isn’t anything big, it was just a lot for my senses. Enhanced hearing and whatnot,” Peter tried to justify, seeing the incredulous look on Mr. Stark's face but knowing the man wouldn't openly challenge him on this. He was pretty sure Mr. Stark saw right through him, but he wasn't ready to admit to anything yet. “I don’t need to talk about it. I’m okay, I promise.”

- 5 -

Pepper and Tony were both tied up on phone calls and Peter had offered to make Morgan lunch. Morgan had begged him to let her help and he had thought asking her to pick out some fruit to go with her sandwich wouldn't be so bad. He should have realized that any kid of Tony's would go the extra mile and end up in trouble, and instead of deciding on a fruit, Morgan had retrieved an apple from the counter and somehow got ahold of a knife and was attempting to cut it herself. Peter could swear his back was only turned for a second and next thing he knew, she had climbed onto the counter and was waving the knife around the air pretending it was a sword and apple in front of her was an unruly subject of the crown being beheaded (he thought he heard her use the word guillotine but couldn't be sure and had no idea where she would have picked it up but chose to let that part go for nowHey Morgs, you aren't supposed to be using a knife," Peter tried to keep his voice calm and friendly, not wanting to be mean or to startle Morgan.

"Oops," Morgan looked at him sheepishly, obviously knowing she was doing something she wasn't supposed to.

"Hand it over kid," he said, holding out a hand for the knife. Morgan moved to give it to him but then there was a loud thud from upstairs. She whipped around to try and see the origin of the noise, and her sudden movement caused the knife to cut right through Peter's forearm.

He hissed out a breath at the sting which drew Morgans attention. She gasped when she saw what she had done and immediately dropped the knife, letting it fall to the floor, thankfully missing impaling Peter's foot by a couple of inches.

“I'm so sorry Petey," Morgan wailed, "I didn't mean to hurt you.”

"It's okay, Morgan. I'm fine, just a little scratch," Peter tried to console her while he wrapped a kitchen towel around his arm to staunch the flow of blood. Before he could figure out what the logical next step was, Tony appeared in the doorway, probably having heard Morgan's cries from upstairs. He had walked around the corner, still partially listening to someone on the phone, but the moment his eyes landed on Peter and countertop that was pretty well covered with blood, the phone slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"What happened!" Tony asked, moving quickly toward the two of them and eyeing Morgan up-and-down to check for injuries. Once he determined that her tears were only from emotional distress and not from physical harm, he moved his attention to Peter.

"Little mishap. It's my fault, I wasn't paying close enough attention. I'm so sorry," Peter stumbled over his words, trying to apologize for letting Morgan get her hands on a knife and putting her in harm's way.

Tony had been looking around the room for something and when his eyes landed on the bloody knife on the floor by Peter's foot. He looked between the knife and Peter's arm.

"Did your sister STAB you?" Tony asked, sounding confused and terrified as he looked between the knife and Morgan.

Peter was too out of it from blood loss and shock to even register that Tony had referred to Morgan as his sister, "No!" he exclaimed, "it was an accident."

Tony shook his head, "we will talk about this later. I want to hear the whole story," he said, more to Morgan than Peter, and she just nodded her head, tears still streaming down her face.

"Come on Pete, let's move up to the bathroom, that's where the first-aid kit is. Are you feeling light-headed? Can you walk okay? You can sit here, I can bring it down maybe. This is a lot of blood..." Tony trailed off, seeming to debate with himself if Peter was fit to walk.

"It's fine. I don't want to get blood on the carpets though," Peter replied, even though he was starting to feel a bit light-headed, he wasn't going to admit to it.

"I don't give a damn about the carpets, Peter. The very bottom of the list of things I care about actually. I was debating getting rid of them just because. I hope you get blood on them honestly, it would give me a good excuse," Tony half-joked, but he was still looking worried.

Tony reached out to put a hand on Peter's non-injured arm and to help him upstairs, but Peter instinctively moved away from the man before he could touch him. It was just a habit at this point.

"Right," Tony said, more to himself than to Peter, when he realized the kid wasn't going to let him help. "At least let me walk behind you so I can catch you if you pass out,"

Peter tried to determine if the man was joking, but the look on his face told him it was a serious request. Peter nodded and started to walk out of the kitchen, Mr. Stark following closely behind him.

At that moment, Pepper came around the corner, apparently having taken notice of the commotion in the kitchen. She quickly and silently assessed the situation before swooping in and picking Morgan up from the middle of the mess on the counter.

"Do you need any help," She asked Tony, there were unspoken questions hanging in her voice, but she wasn't going to pry while Peter was actively bleeding.

"I think we can manage," Tony replied, keeping his eyes on Peter.

"Okay, just yell if you need anything," She said, "I'm going to give Morgan a bath."

Peter continued out of the kitchen and up the stairs, using all of his energy to keep from swaying too much or from giving in and passing out. After what felt like an eternity, per Tony's instructions, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the Stark's master bathroom. He wanted to feel awkward to be in their room again, but he was fully distracted by his arm.

Tony fetched the first aid kit from under the cabinets and knelt down in front of Peter.

"Can I take the towel off and get a better look," Tony asked.

"Um, I can unwrap it," Peter offered, moving to do it himself.

Tony hissed when the last layer of towel came away and he could see the angry cut running up his arm.

"She really got you good there kid. I think you might need stitches," He mused.

"It's not as bad as it looked," Peter defended. "Besides, I heal fast."

Tony shook his head, "I still think you need stitches. We have everything to do it here so we don't even have to go to the hospital. Rhodey put as all through field-medic training. I can do them for you.”

Peter waited for Tony to finish and then gave a firm, "No. I can do it myself if I need to. I've done it plenty of time."

Tony just stared at him, seemingly unsure of what to say. "What do you mean you've done it plenty of times? When have you been stitching yourself up???" he finally asked.

Peter shrugged, wincing when it pulled at his cut, "I was out doing the hero thing before I met you. And you can learn just about anything on YouTube these days."

Tony looked horrified at the idea of a fourteen-year-old Peter stitching himself up after a rough patrol. "Are you sure you won't let me help?" he tried, "I promise I'll be gentle."

"No. I can do it." Peter said resolutely. Tony gave in and started taking things out of the kit and handing them to Peter. Disinfectant, gauze, a numbing gel that Peter was certain would accomplish nothing but that he used just to appease the other man. Finally everything was clean and Tony hesitantly handed over the suture kit.

"I really don't like this kid. Can we just go to the hospital instead? Or I can call Rhodey or Bruce or something?" He tried one last time.

"It's fine Mr. Stark, I can do it," Peter assured him.

Tony sat stoically while Peter sewed up his cut, flinching every time the needle pierced his skin as though it was him getting the stitches. Peter made quick work of the injury and was soon accepting a bandage from Tony and binding up his injury.

"Look, good as new," Peter said lightly, trying to alleviate that tension that had settled over the room while he worked.

Tony examined him closely, seeming to search Peter's face, but for what, he didn't know.

"Okay, how about we head down to the living room. You need to eat something for your spidey-metabolism and I don't want you taking pain meds on an empty stomach."

Peter stood from the tub and swayed a bit when he got to his feet. Mr. Stark moved to help him but stopped just short. "Can I help, please?" Tony asked.

Peter shook his head no. "I can walk on my own. I'm okay, I promise."

+1

Tony was growing increasingly concerned. Watching Peter fighting to pull himself out of panic attacks without accepting any help was torture. The kid was 15 but had been through more trauma than most adults and Tony just desperately wanted Peter to let him be a parent and help bear that burden for him.

He was so conflicted as to where the line fell between giving Peter the space he needed and following his cues as to what would be helpful versus seeing where it wasn't working anymore and he had to play the adult card and step in. Peter had been fighting this battle by himself for over a month and if the kid didn’t start to get some real sleep, Tony was going to have to call in Dr. Cho or Bruce to work on some drugs for him because he was dead on his feet.

Mind made up, Tony set out to look for Peter. He found him sitting at the end of the dock, feet dangling over the water, staring out at the horizon, and walked out to join him. He knew Peter could hear him approach but the kid was either too caught up in his own thoughts to notice, or he just didn’t care, because he didn’t make any move to acknowledge Tony’s presence. Tony took a lack of rejection as an invitation to join him and sat down next to his kid, leaving a few inches between them. He turned so he was sitting cross-legged facing Peter, with the water off to his side.

“Kid, whatever it is that you think you have to handle on your own, you don’t,” Tony started, pleading in his voice, “I would do anything for you. I would go through it all a hundred times so that you wouldn’t have to experience any of it once, but I can’t do that. And it kills me to watch you suffer alone,” Tony’s voice cracked and he felt his own tears falling now, “I am begging you, Peter, if you won’t let me in for yourself, please, do it for me. I need you to let me help you.”

Peter shook his head ‘no.’ He was still looking out over the water but spoke softly, “You don’t understand, I can’t. I can’t talk to you, I can’t let you touch me, I can’t let you help. I just can’t.” Peter’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Just leave me alone. That’s what I need right now.”

Tony’s heart broke into even more pieces if that was even possible. For a moment he wrestled with the idea of giving in to Peter, of listening to the kid's plea for space and respecting that, but despite what Peter was saying, Tony knew that wasn’t what he actually needed.

“I am not going anywhere, kid. Please. You don’t have to talk to me right now, but can I please at least give you a hug?” Tony ached to hug his kid after letting Peter push him away for so long.

Peter shook his head almost imperceptibly. He finally turned his head and met Tony’s gaze, each one staring into the other's tear-filled eyes until Peter finally broke eye contact. His head fell forward, chin to chest, and gut-wrenching sobs wracked his frame. Tony almost joined him in sobbing, he was so at a loss as to what to do, but then very slowly, he leaned in. He gave Peter time to push him away, he had heard the kids say he didn’t want a hug with his words and Tony didn’t believe that was actually what he wanted, but he still moved at a glacial pace. It felt like an eternity, but the kid’s forehead was finally resting on Tony’s chest and he couldn’t take it anymore. Tony placed one hand on the back of his kid’s head, holding him against his chest, and he wrapped his other arm around him and pulled Peter firmly into his lap. Peter didn’t pull away. He melted into the embrace and started to sob even harder. Tony held him tightly, running his fingers through the boy's curls and gently started rocking back and forth.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, clutching each other, Peter sobbing loudly while Tony had silent tears streaming down his own face. Finally, Peter’s sobs slowed and he lifted his own tear-stained eyes to meet Tony’s, not moving from the man’s embrace.

“Tony,” Peter’s voice broke saying his name, “I think I need help.

Tony hugged Peter tighter if that was possible. “Okay,” he replied, his own voice thick with tears, “whatever you need, I am here.

“I’m so tired. I just want to sleep without having nightmares and not be afraid anymore,” Peter sniffed as he spoke, he was no longer sobbing but tears were still flowing freely down his face.

“I will never let anything else happen to you if I can help it. I know I can’t protect you from everything, but I swear I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” Tony told him.

Peter nodded, “I feel like I’ll be afraid forever,” he confessed.

Tony hugged him tighter, “I know it feels like that but, but you have to trust me that eventually, you’ll be okay. I promise.”

[funesgoal]

Undercover | Will Halstead (part 2)

Pairing: Will Halstead x Ruzek!reader

Word count: 1,777

Summary: Y/N is Adam Ruzek's sister but she is also very good at being undercover. Her aptitudes are very good for a cop, except she isn't one. One night she chooses the erroneous target and everything starts to go wrong.

Warnings: none.

Part 1

The Chicago police intelligence unit used to catch every criminal that it set out to catch. The other officers thought it was easy, but they never saw the work before the arrest. Searching for information, gathering facts, talking to informants. None of the superiors took into consideration their hard work, which was not done alone. Each and every one of the detectives in charge of Sergeant Voight put in their greatest effort to make the teamwork pay off.

But on this particular day, Detective Jay Halstead could not concentrate. His phone kept vibrating in his pants pocket, and that was something everyone had noticed.

"Halstead, are you with us?" Voight's gaze settled on him.

"Of course, sergeant."

"Well, tell that to your cell phone."

The boy's face turned red instantly because of the embarrassment he felt about being exposed by the boss, in front of all his buddies. He took out his smartphone and hid it under his desk, ready to kill the one who kept calling.

He was surprised to see that it was his brother Will.

«Stop bothering» He wrote the text as fast as he could and sent it. He immediately got a response.

«We need to talk. NOW. »

Millions of ideas crossed his mind about what might be happening and none of them was good. It could be his father. Will wouldn't bother him if it wasn't something important. He knew very well that he was at his workplace.

His thoughts must have been transferred to his face because when he raised his head, everyone, in the room was looking at him.

"Jay, do you need to go outside?" This time Voight wasn't being ironic, he was being supportive. The ex-soldier nodded to go somewhere away from the rest. "Thank you, sergeant" he said.

Once alone, he started calling.

"Will" his voice came out like a sigh as soon as his brother answered the call, "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I don't know" he answered. Jay didn't know how to interpret his tone of voice. "I'm so angry, how could I be so stupid!"

"Wait, wait" he tried to calm him down. "What are you talking about?"

The man on the other end of the line kept yelling things the detective couldn't understand. He asked him to calm down, one more time. "I have to tell you everything."

"It's all right."

"I've been robbed" there was a deep silence on the call. "Not on the street, not in the hospital. In my house. By a girl I met in a club."

Jay rolled his eyes. "I really can't believe you called me to talk about this. Report the lost property and get over it. It'll give you experience."

"You don't get it. It wasn't just a robbery. It was all planned, Jay. She injected me with some kind of substance to put me to sleep. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. She's turned the whole department upside down."

The detective didn't even let him finish. "It's okay. We're working on a case now but when you finish your shift at the hospital come down to the station so we can try to reconstruct his face and get an arrest warrant. Are you happy with that?"

"I don't know" Will finished the call and of course he wasn't happy with his brother's response. Meanwhile, he went back to Voight and the rest of the team.

Erin Lindsey was standing in front of the board. The images that were on it had been taped there a few minutes ago. "Julio Mamani. He belongs to the Latin Gods. We've seen him and his people before, but they had always gone unnoticed. They've cooperated with the police a few times." She said, pointing to the man in the first photo.

She stepped forward and pointed to the next photo. "Andrés Rivera. He has worked with the Latin Gods, but he separated from them in 2016. Our informants say Mamani and Rivera had fought and Mamani forced him out of Chicago. But one of Antonio's informants claims she's seen him come back."

"Do you trust her, Antonio?" Hank asked the dark-haired detective.

He nodded. "She's never lied to me. Her information has always been true."

"The question is, why is Rivera back right now?" continued Erin, trying to develop the information as clearly as possible. "If he left almost without a fight before, what's so important that he came back to face Mamani?"

Adam Ruzek stepped forward so that he could ask. "And why do we think Rivera came back for Mamani? I mean, maybe he forgot something the last time he was in Chicago."

"We know from this" She pointed to a picture with very low quality. The first thing you saw at first glance was the pixels. You could see that it was a cargo truck. The second thing you could see was the kilos of cocaine that the members of Latin Gods were taking out of the truck. "This image was obtained by Mouse from the security camera of a nearby pharmacy. All this cocaine, we could count at least 20 kilos, belonged to Rivera. He's been smuggling it into Chicago's Mamani areas for at least three years."

"We think Rivera's back to take down Mamani" Antonio stood up and joined Erin. "We're not sure, as I said, it's a theory."

Olinsky, from his hidden desk, made an important point. "And if Rivera ends up with Mamani, a gang fight will break out."

"Exactly" Erin finished. "And we can't let that happen."

Hank Voight nodded. He stood up, ready to give the orders.

"Halstead and Lindsay, find out everything you can about Rivera. I want to know every step he's taken in the last four years" the sergeant pointed them out. Then he turned to Ruzek and Atwater. "You two concentrate on Mamani. Find out about the places he usually hangs out. If Rivera goes looking for him, he'll probably do the same. Al, come with me."

Sergeant Platt appeared in the room accompanied by a red-haired man. He was wearing medical clothing and his face was unsettled.

"Halstead, your brother is here," said the woman, then she turned and walked out.

"Yes, thank you, sergeant."

Will Halstead joined his brother. He welcomed him with a smile, mocking him. "So... How are you?"

"Stop mocking me, Jay. I'm telling you, I'm serious. "

They weren't alone in the room. Erin Lindsey and Kevin Atwater were with the brothers. They both said hello, curious to know what was going on. It was the woman who asked first. Jay went ahead and answered.

"My brother had a problem with a girl."

"It wasn't my problem!"

"Atwater, how many girls you meet in bars do you take home?"

He didn't want to answer, but he didn't have time because Will beat him to it.

"I met this girl at a club, we had a couple of drinks and went to my apartment. I woke up today with the whole place a mess and no credit cards. I took a blood test" he pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket. "She injected me with midazolam."

"That's what you get for wanting to take every woman you see to the bed" he went back to bother him. "Kevin, could you help us make a portrait of her?"

Atwater nodded and got on with it. Erin took her notebook. "Tell us everything you remember about her."

"She was blonde, long hair, brown eyes. She must have been in her twenties, twenty-two. She was British. She said she arrived in Chicago just yesterday."

The woman was writing while the man was drawing on the tablet. Jay looked at him to ask him a question. "Did she tell you her name? Anything about where she was staying?"

Will snorted. He put his hands to his head, slowly denying. "She told me to call her «Agatha Christie» "

Then Jay and Kevin broke up in a fit of laughter. So much that Atwater had to put the tablet down to keep it from slipping out of his hands. Lindsey didn't copy them, though. "Come on, Erin. Don't pretend you're not amused."

"I am not really," she said, rereading her notes over and over again. "She just got to Chicago and the first thing she does is go to a club and make out with a guy?"

"That may not be your type, Erin, but hers is."

The woman bit her lower lip. She shook her head. "No, all of this is odd to me."

Atwater got in the way. "What do you think? Looked like her?" He showed him what the picture looked like. Will pointed out a couple of details and after the corrections, the man was sure of the picture.

"Yes, it looks like her" he suddenly seemed to remember something. He put his hand in one pocket and tried to find something, but without success, and then he went back to the other one.

Ruzek entered the room. He had a folder full of papers and looked ecstatic. "Hey, you won't believe what Mouse and I... Oh, hi, Will!" He walked over to the others and handed out different papers to the three detectives. "Well, what Mouse and I discovered. Every Friday night Mamani and a good number of the Latin Gods go to the West Meigs Casino. Apparently, they frequent certain prostitutes, one of whom is an informant for Antonio, which would serve as a starting point for us to go undercover."

"Great job, Ruzek" Kevin congratulated him.

"Wait, I haven't said the hard part yet. Mamani will be in a special room at the casino. The police could ask for a warrant, but, obviously, the Latin Gods wouldn't go if we did that. So, Mouse is trying to get away in and-What... How...Where did you get that, Will?"

Ruzek pointed to his right hand. The surgeon raised it in the air, showing what was in it.

"The girl left it at my house. She probably dropped it while she was putting away the money she stole from me."

"What are you talking about?" He said, but then he left his question behind. "You know what, never mind. That's a ticket to Room 11! Where Mamani will be!" the excitement was in the man's voice. "I have no idea how you got it, but now we just have to make enough copies. I'll go tell Mouse to do it. You're a genius, Will!"

Erin took one look at Jay. "You still think she had nothing to do with it?"

[ciestessde]

NOT My Hero Academia: Part 1 -- Ch.3

The door to the warehouse slammed shut behind Izuku. At first glance, it looked empty. But he knew better than to judge that by appearance. Master wouldn’t have called him to an empty building. Izuku walked to the center of the large room without hesitation or fear. In the center was a couple of chairs and a desk -- with a copy of his exam results on it. ‘But… how did Master get those…?’

“You placed in the top ten. Well done.”

Izuku startled, but recovered quickly. Master seemed to love appearing from nowhere almost as much as taking up the entire room with his presence. “Thank you, sir!” “Have a seat.”

They sat down, facing each other, and Master grabbed the papers, seeming to inspect them. His lack of eyes never seemed to influence his vision. Once again, Izuku wondered what the man’s quirk was. “Ninth place, 23 villain points and 30 rescue points… Could’ve been better, but still an impressive feat with only the staff,” he set the papers back down, “I am pleased.”

Izuku was practically glowing with pride.

“But that’s not all I brought you here to discuss.” Master picked up a different paper -- an acceptance letter. Izuku couldn’t see who’s it was. “It seems All Might will be teaching at U.A.” Izuku’s expression flattened. “... Shouldn’t you feel excited? The Number One Hero will be teaching you, after all.”

“I…” Izuku looked down and fiddled with the edge of his shirt. “I’m not sure how to feel.” He looked back up at Master, “I know he saved me and all. He’s saved so many people! All Might… he’s amazing! It’s just…” His gaze dropped to the floor again. “After what he said, I… I just don’t know…” his hands clenched around the fabric, “-how to feel about him anymore.”

“Hm. It’s understandable. He did try to crush your dream, after all. Saying you couldn’t be a hero without a quirk; as though it’s their quirks that make them special, even though only four out of five people have one.” “He meant well, though. He just wanted to keep me safe!” “And you wanted to help keep others safe.” “...”

“... Well, I’m sure you’ll learn a lot from him.” “Yeah…” “Speaking of which, you have almost an entire month before the start of term, and you can’t afford to stop improving. Your training regimen will continue as before.” “Yes, Master!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

SPRING

“Izuku! Have you got your pocket tissues?!” “Yeah.” “And your handkerchief?! Have you got that?!” “Yes!! I’ve got it! No time. Gotta hurry…” Izuku shoved the last of his supplies into his bag.

He was nervous. ‘I wish Master would let me sleep with that plant in my room every night…’ He threw his bag over his shoulder, paused to give his mom a kiss on the cheek, then moved toward the door. ‘But I guess there must be a good reason for it-’

“Izuku!” “-Huh?” Izuku paused, his hand on the doorknob. His mom looked at him, teary eyed. “… You look great.”

“...!” He straightened, slightly more confident. And grinned. “Thanks… See you later! Love you!”

‘I still can barely believe I made it into U.A.… I wonder who my classmates will be… ‘… I hope Kacchan and I are in the same class.’

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kacchan had cornered him after class when he’d found out they’d both made it in. Yelled at him about how he’d “torn his grand plans to shreds” of being the “first and only” of their school’s students to make it into U.A.. “Thought I told you to go somewhere else!” He’d said, pinning Izuku to a wall.

Even Izuku couldn’t believe what he did next. … No. What he couldn’t believe… was that he’d put up with Kacchan’s behavior this long.

Izuku twisted out of Kacchan’s grip and pinned him to the wall. Kacchan stayed frozen in shock for a couple seconds, and Izuku let go before he regained his senses. Standing tall, fists clenched, Izuku said, “I earned my place just like you did!” Kacchan spun around with a growl, his palms smoking. But Izuku had refused to flinch. “Mas-Someone told me… That I could become a hero…! Th-that’s why… I’m… I’M GONNA BE HERE NO MATTER WHAT!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He’d gotten his wish; when he arrived in the classroom he saw Kacchan being confronted by a serious-looking student. He decided to ignore them, but before turning to his desk, he heard a voice call from behind him. “Ah! That curly hair! The plain-looking boy!!” It was the cute girl!

And without the plants calming effect to help him… ‘She’s too cute in that uniform!!’

Izuku was sweating, trying very hard not to look at the cute girl who was way too close -- and talking to him, what was she saying-?! -And why did he have to be sweating so much!!

Thankfully he was saved by an unusual arrival. “If you’re here to socialize, then get out.” They were all caught off-guard by the… sleeping bag the man was wearing.

But they didn’t have long to dwell over it. This man, it turned out, was their homeroom teacher, Mr. Shota Aizawa. And the first thing he did (aside from chide them for taking so long to quiet down) was order them to change into their gym uniforms and head out to the grounds.

So he could test their quirks.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

‘I hope this batch is better than last year’s…’ I thought as I watched the students line up.

I started my explanation of the day’s activities by listing off the “standard no-quirks-allowed” gym tests. No need to go into detail -- the students already knew them. “This country still insists on prohibiting quirks when calculating the averages of those records,” I explained, “It’s not rational. The department of education is just procrastinating.”

I picked a student suited to the task -- “Bakugo” -- and ordered him to throw a softball, using his quirk however he liked, as long as he didn’t leave the circle I’d placed him in. And, of course, he was able to throw it MUCH farther using his quirk than when not using it. “It’s important for us to know our limits. That’s the first rational step to figuring out what kind of heroes you’ll be.”

The other students got excited at the idea of freely using their quirks. ‘Typical. Just like last year.’ Annoyed by their exclamations and carefree attitudes, I dropped the bomb: “Right. “The one with the lowest score across all eight events will be judged hopeless…

“… and will be expelled.” Uraraka, who was standing right next to that quirkless kid, exclaimed, “The lowest scorer will be expelled…? It’s only the first day! I mean, even if it weren’t… That’s totally unfair!” The faces of the students behind her mirrored that sentiment.

‘Jeez… “Unfair,” huh? Time to burst their bubbles.’ “Natural disasters… highway pileups… rampaging villains… Calamity is always right around the corner. I’d say Japan is full of unfair things. Heroes are the ones who correct all that unfairness.”

I brushed the hair out of my eyes, sighing. ‘I can’t believe I have to explain this every year.’ “If you were hoping to spend your evenings hanging out at McDonald’s… I’m sorry to tell you that for the next three years -- U.A. will run you through the wringer.“

‘Still… Seeing them overcome these obstacles… ‘That feeling of pride is why I’m still a teacher.’

I curled my finger in a “come here” gesture. “That’s Plus Ultra. Use your strength to overcome it all. Bring it.”

The rest of the students weren’t discouraged by my harsh words. Rather, I could feel them growing even more restless and determined. Even the most nervous of the bunch were starting to get fired up…! ‘There’s hope for these kids yet. Now…’ “The demonstration is over. But before we begin… Izuku Midoriya.”

The boy jumped at the realization that I was staring right at him. “That ridiculous entrance exam… Completely irrational when you consider someone like you got in.” ‘Still… It’s impressive that the kid DID manage to get in without a quirk. But, regardless of how hard he tries, I know what experience has taught me…’ “… With no quirk, you’ll only end up inconveniencing those around you when they inevitably have to step in to help. And this is a school, not a playground for you to pretend to be All Might.”

Narrowing my eyes, I exclaimed, harsh though it was, "Izuku Midoriya. You cannot become a hero without a quirk.”

There was a tense silence. Then I sighed, ”But what the hell. Give it a shot. I’m just telling you now, no one’s going to change the rules for you.

“Now, let’s get this over with.”

.

Inside, I wondered, ‘Will he give it his all and go down swinging…? Or shrink away from the challenge and end up with the lowest score…?’

If he fought for it, maybe…? ‘... No. Either way, I doubt he stands a chance. Still, it’s impressive he even made it in.’

But… As I watched the students -- waited to see how creatively (or not) they decided to use their abilities…

‘Huh… ‘Midoriya is actually…?’

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Izuku was in the warehouse, jumping through portal-after-portal. Or rather…

“When you panic, you lose. When you get lost in thought, you lose,” Kurogiri-sensei said. Izuku lunged again, but in vain -- he went barreling through yet another portal. Instead of the book in Kurogiri-sensei’s hand, he was met with the hard, cement floor.

Izuku got up to try again, but Kurogiri-sensei held up his hand. Izuku stopped in his tracks, panting, his hands on his knees. “The key is finding that balance between driving emotion and cool-headed logic. Use the fear and turn it into energy. Then find the paths to victory that are available to you, and focus on one of them. If that path gets cut off, simply turn to the next.

“But most of all…” Kurogiri-sensei put a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, lifting him from his crouch and meeting his eyes. “… Just breath.”

After a few moments, Izuku’s breathing evened out and the boy stood up straight.

“Good. Now…” Kurogiri held the book out once more -- and opened a myriad of portals around the warehouse, “Take the book. I won’t move.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At first, Izuku had panicked. He had no quirk, so how was he supposed to-?! -But Kurogiri-sensei’s lessons came back to him.

And Izuku took a deep breath. ‘Mr. Aizawa said he wouldn’t change the rules for me, after all.’ He let the breath out slowly.

He didn’t need to win. He just- ‘-I just need… to not have the lowest score…!’

…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

… “Moving along. Time for the results. Your total scores simply reflect your performance in each of the events. Explaining the process would be a waste of time, so all you get are the final rankings.

“And I wasn’t lying about expelling someone.” Many of the students looked tense, uncertain about their results.

I clicked a button on the remote in my hand, and a hologram appeared displaying the students’ scores. Instant relief. Midoriya, I noticed, looked ready to collapse at the sight of the number “16” next to his name.

Relief… for all but one. “Minoru Mineta.” There was a shuffling of students, and a short purple boy came to the front. He was crying, but I ignored it. “Go to the Principals office. They’ll know why you’re there. The rest of you, we’re done here. Your documents about the curriculum and such are back in the classroom. Give them a look.”

And without another word, I walked away.

.

After seeing Midoriya’s performance, I was conflicted. Had I made the right decision? ‘That kid… He doesn’t… have no chance, I suppose. He did perform better than some of the others, and they showed promise. I can’t ignore that.

‘Still… Should I have just cut him loose anyway?

‘After all… ‘There’s nothing crueler than letting someone chase their half-baked dreams.’

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

[Beginning]

[Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

The person who’s doing the podfic for “Phantasma Magica” has agreed to make an audiobook for my original book “Crossroad of Infinity”!!! (They’ve also given me permission to share their name, now. She’s “Em” from ShadowQuillsInk – one of the editors of CofI.) Look forward to that, and THANK YOU EM!!! T^T

Also, if you’re a writer or other indie creator, go give my editors a look. They’re making this community of indie creators to help each other grow and stuff. Here's their website. They’re calling themselves “ShadowQuillsInk”

[mightbeawriter1]

Starting a new story about Ella and Azrael's friendship. Hope it turns out okay.

Sanctuary

The silence is broken only by the raspy panting of her breathing and the slow agonized squeal of one of the tires that was still barely turning. The sides of the old station wagon press close around her as she dangles upside down, held in place by her lap belt but unable to see to the front of the vehicle where her parents had been laughing just a moment ago.

"Mami? Papá?" Ella cries breathlessly, struggling to turn and see them. There is no answer, and she desperately tries not to think about why that might be. She can feel her rapid heartbeats pounding in her fingertips, and then a rushing in her ears as darkness wraps around her once more. When she wakes, the awful squealing has stopped and there's a girl with a sad expression below her, sitting on what used to be the ceiling of the car. She's confused for a moment, because she definitely hadn't been in the car with them before. She has short, dark hair, enormous glasses that magnify her expressive eyes, and is wearing a funky assortment of mismatched clothes that the eight-year-old Ella can't help but admire.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" She asks groggily. Her head feels a bit achy and fuzzy, like that time Jay dared her to hold a handstand for half an hour and she threw up on his shoes once she stood up.

"Ummm, hi?" The sad-looking girl seems surprised to be noticed, looking around as though Ella might be talking to someone else. Ella thinks to herself that even her voice sounds a little sad, and wishes she could give her a hug. "I'm, uh, Az- you know what? Call me Rae-Rae. That's what my favorite brother used to call me."

"Rae-Rae's a funny name." Ella rubs her eyes tiredly.

"Oh, yeah? What's yours then?" she challenges. 

"I'm Ella. Ella Lopez." The girl twists to look toward the front of the car.

"Oh, hey Ella, dont turn around just now, okay? Just, um, talk with me for a little bit, huh?" She gives Ella a big smile and starts to reach for her hand but quickly pulls back.

"My head feels funny. I want my Mami." Tears start to leak from the corners of her eyes and tickle uncomfortably as they trace up her forehead and into her hairline.

"I know kiddo, but... She's not here. Maybe we can try to get you out of this thing, huh? I don't think humans are supposed to be upside down for this long. Can you reach the ceiling with your hands?" 

Ella's arms are already extended that direction, and with a little stretching, she finds that she can. Rae-Rae instructs her to brace with one hand, unbuckle the belt with the other and brace until her feet meet the ground.

"Almost like a cartwheel!" Ella declares proudly once she is crouching next to the older girl. Ella has been trying very hard to succeed in a cartwheel for months now. Ricardo has been relentless in teasing her for her inability to perfect it. She starts to launch forward to throw her arms around the older girl at her almost-cartwheel-success, but the other girl flinches away.

"Yeah, you nailed it, girl!" Rae-Rae applauds awkwardly. "Let's, uh, head toward the back there and crawl out through the window, okay kiddo?"

"My name's Ella." Ella reminds her, noticing that Rae-Rae has been very careful to keep between her line of sight to the driver's and passenger's seats, and diligently remembers not to think about why that might be. She turns quietly, waddles crouched across the ceiling of the car and squeezes out the shattered back window and into the ravaged grassy ravine where the car rests. Rae-Rae follows after her, and leads her a little distance away before settling down cross legged in the grass. Ella sits nearby with her knees pressed against her chest, tiny arms wrapped tightly around them.

"What do we do now?" Ella asks quietly, sounding lost. Her fingers worry the shiny cross around her neck that had been a gift from her parents for her eighth birthday, just a few weeks ago. Rae-Rae's eyes are drawn to the movement.

"Well, I guess now we wait for someone to come and help."

"My parents." Ella sniffles quietly, her eyes burning. "They didn't make it. Did they?"

"Ella..." The older girl hesitates. "I'm really sorry, but they didn't. They crossed over safely, and they'll be waiting for you in Heaven, but you can't be with them right now. They love you so much, but they were so happy that you were safe."

The tears are back now, and Ella sobs into her knees as she rocks herself. Azrael sits in silence and watches her, compassion lighting her dark eyes. Once the initial storm of tears passes and Ella's breathing has almost returned to normal, she peeks up from her huddled position to see Azrael leaning back, staring at the brilliant stars above. Ella copies her, gazing into that infinite velvety blackness sparkling with flickering pinpoints of light.

"My favorite big brother used to tell me stories about the stars, you know." Rae-Rae says conversationally, her voice still tinged with that ever-present sadness. "How they were created. How they burn, and expand, and collapse. We used to just talk about everything. And nothing. And it was amazing." 

Ella wipes her nose with her jacket sleeve. "You don't talk anymore?" Her voice is quavery, but she seizes the distraction from her overwhelming grief with both hands.

"Well...no." Rae-Rae shifts uncomfortably. "We kind of, can't talk anymore."

"Why not? What happened? Don't you miss talking to him?" Ella scoots closer to the strange girl, wanting to offer comfort, but unsure how.

"Jeez Louise, of course I do! But, I can't talk to him. Because... He had to leave home, and I can't go visit him." Her gaze is fixed on a blue wildflower in front of her left foot.

"Why can't you visit him? Or why can't he come visit you?"

 "He and my Dad don't get along anymore, so we just can't-"

"That's not fair!" Ella interrupts, pushing to her feet at the injustice. "You shouldn't have to lose your brother just because of a fight with your dad!" She starts again to offer a hug to the girl, who she is already starting to think of as a friend, but Rae-Rae flinches back again, more violently this time.

"You're... You're right, Ella, but... It's probably too late now anyway." The last part of that was quiet, probably meant to be aimed at herself.

"What do you mean too late? What happened?"

"Uh... I'm a ghost." The last words fall from Rae-Rae's mouth in a burst of speed. Ella's reddened eyes widen until they seem to fill her entire face.

"You're a ghost? How come I can see you, why can you talk to me?"

"I'm not sure. You must be special, Ella." A small smile flickers across the young girl's tear stained face. Shouting voices drift to them through the still night air, and red and blue lights start to reflect over the lip of the ravine. "I think your cavalry has arrived, Ella, so I've got to go. I'm glad I got to meet you. Smell ya later, Lopez."

"Rae-Rae?" The girl whispers, "Thank you for helping me." But when she turns, the ghost is gone.

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

The first few months after the accident were full of tears, nightmares, and arguments. The rescuers had launched a search for the girl Ella described to them, but she wasn't found. Abuelita moved into the house with Ella and her brothers and was slowly imposing a new normal over the household. There was a lot less laughing, and a lot more praying now.

Ella is playing in her room, setting up an obstacle course for the spider that lives in the top pane of her window. She hasn't figured out yet how she's going to get the spider to do the obstacle course, but she saw a movie once that said, "If you build it, they will come," so she wants to test that theory. She hears a soft whooshing noise, and looks up from the tiny balance beam

"Whatcha doing, Lopez?" A familiar voice asks quietly, and there is Rae-Rae sitting across the course from her.

"Rae-Rae!" Ella exclaims excitedly, "I was starting to think I wouldn't see you again! I told the rescue people about you, but they couldn't find you!" She launches toward her friend for a hug.

The girl is suddenly across the room, but gives her a warm smile. "Ghost, remember? You can't touch me. Nobody can see me, and I officially don't exist."

Ella looks offended. "You exist! You're my friend!" Her chin juts stubbornly. "I didn't care what those doctors said."

"Doctors? Why, where you hurt in the crash?" Rae-Rae looks anxious

"I wasn't hurt," her bright eyes darken a little. "But there were four of them. For therapy."

"Four?"

"Uh-huh. They kept sending new ones."

"Why?"

"I kept biting them." The older girl's eyes widen behind her thick glasses at Ella's matter of fact confession. "They kept telling me you weren't real."

"Wow, Ella, that's..." The ghost appears lost for words. "That really stinks. Since I'm kind of not real, I guess they're not completely wrong, ya know?"

"You are TOO real, or else how could you be here talking to me? You wouldn't have a brother if you weren't real."

"I guess you've got me there," Rae-Rae chuckles. "If Lu is real, then I must be, too."

"I was thinking about that," Ella leans forward and whispers conspiratorially. "If you want, I can write a letter to your brother for you! Just tell me what you want me to write and I'll mail it for you!" The little girl looks very proud of her solution to her friend's problem.

"Oh hey, Ella, that's super sweet, but," the ghost's gaze fixes on the tiny spider-size monkey bars in the course. "I don't know Lu's address. I'm pretty sure he doesn't get mail where he is, anyway. What are you building here?"

Ella's a little disappointed that her letter idea can't help her friend, but gladly launches into a detailed description of Frank the spider and his obstacle course. Rae-Rae asks good questions and pays close attention to the girl's ideas, even offering up some of her own. When Abuelita calls up the stairs that dinner is ready, Ella turns to answer her. When she turns back, a breeze fans her face and her friend has disappeared again.

"Bye, Rae-Rae. Thanks for coming to see me!" Ella whispers, then heads downstairs, her ponytail bobbing happily behind her.

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

[goodnightallwhites]

Dark Times: Cuz Sonia by Zenalite

Chapter 1 - Sonia Life could be strange. Growing up, people taught me that it was better to appear strong than weak, and that strength was the only way to get what you wanted. There were so many cringy scenes in middle-school where this failed to bring results. One time a classmate had asked me if she could copy the answers from my homework; I told her sure, so long as she let me kiss her. She rolled her eyes and walked her sweet young ass away while my male buddies laughed and congratulated me. When the weakest guy in our class gave her his homework, we called him out and mocked him, but our cutie responded by giving him a quick peck on the cheek when it was over. I remember burning with rage at the thought that some spineless little shit felt her lips while I, who was daring as I was told I should be, was left a kissless virgin. It never occurred to me to use the same strategy. That I later met Lara in high school and watched her slowly succumb to wanting to black cock addiction to the point that I held her as a party as they stole her virginity before my eyes was pure chance. These things were accepted because I loved Laura and was afraid to lose her, not because of some grand plan. When Yennefer approached me and told me she wanted Lara to share me so I could be her boyfriend too, the entire thing blew my mind. Somehow, I, the loyal cuck that put up with everything, was the last boyfriend standing while the others got kicked to the curb. Through my selfless devotion to Lara, I not only solidified her love for me, but won the affection of the most popular ice queen in school. Even though none of them fucked me or would fuck me, there were butterflies of good feeling flying all around me. Scratch that, it felt amazing. Any fucking loser could go out and buy pussy with a few bucks, and there were plenty of dumb guys born with big cocks that could get a girl wet and willing for half an hour while they fucked only to face her cool disdain afterwards. I was loved. I was wanted. Of course, it did feel bad to think that I might not fuck any of them, but it was an okay sacrifice. It certainly helped that they wanted to fuck black guys and only black guys. On one hand, I wasn’t and could never be black, so there was no need to feel like I failed in any way. On the other hand, these girls were objectifying these poor black studs to such an extent that they spoke of them more like toys than people. It was all a little racist, but… There’s no way I’m going to call Lara or Yenn racists to their face. As I said before, Yennefer told me that she wanted me, and that Lara needed to accept that a great cuck like me needed to be shared, at least with the top bitch if not the entire school. It would’ve been nice if Yenn went and delivered this message herself; instead, she was sending me out there to get devoured if things went wrong. Lara opened the door for me dressed only in a pair of ripped denim shorts and a crop top. The frayed bits from the jeans brushed tantalizingly against her smooth and tan legs as she moved idly and the perfect outline of her breasts showing through the thin fabric of the top. A sexy smile played over her lips as the brown eyes settled on me. “Mr. Boyfriend, I presume? Where are my flowers?” “In my pants.” Lara burst with laughter, not expecting the wild card response. “That’s rich.” Then, her features softened and lost all tension. With a low whisper, she grabbed my hand with welcome gentleness and said, “Come inside, baby, I missed you.” She went barefoot over the polished floor of her living room, the muscles working along her long and tone legs as she dragged me along, those perky and soft breasts swaying enticingly under the crop top. Unlike Yennefer’s strong scent of lilac and gooseberries, Lara’s was understated, fresh and a little metallic. We headed into her room and she locked the door. “My parents might be home soon.” Some soft rap music played from her laptop resting in bed. I took note of the printer at the lying in the middle of the floor and the new images that were going up on her wall. All of them were pics of black guys or white girls, at times together, most of them captioned in the most overt way possible. One showed a blonde girl wearing a Swedish flag tee and surrounded by bare-chested dark-skinned guys: EUROPE IS IS GETTING BLACKED. Another was just a close-up of a girl’s sweaty abs: WORK HARD FOR BBC. Lara drank in my reaction. Her blood rushed just from looking at them, and her hands went absentmindedly over her nipples as they started nudging through. “Well? Do you like them?” “I do…” I made myself say, though it was strange. The political ones were especially strong. “Though maybe they’re a little” - her eyebrows began to rise suspiciously as the words left my mouth - “direct?” Lara watched me closely, then leaned in and let her hot breath fill my ear. “I am very direct. Mostly.” A giggle came out of her, then she grabbed the laptop and flashed a picture on screen, showing a white girl holding hands with a skinny white guy as she kissed a really buff black bull that must have been in his forties. Under it, Lara had written: BREEDING READY. “How about this one? Good enough?” She found it hard to take her eyes off of the image. “Uh. It’s nice.” “Oh, fuck off! Be honest with me! I’ll tell you what…” Her finger came up to her lower lip and moved across it. “If you give me a better one, I’ll give you a reward.” A reward? Well… “How about HER HAPPINESS COMES FIRST?” Lara thought about it then bobbed her head happily and giggled. “That’s great. I love that.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she made the edit, then our creation slithered out of the printer and across the floor like eldritch baby. My beautiful girlfriend grabbed it and pinned it to the wall next to the others. “There we go! Now, about your reward…” Lara turned around and came towards me slowly, swaying her hips in a sensual way while her fingers circled caresses around her toned tummy. Close enough that her breasts almost pushed into me, though she made a point not to engage in any physical contact. “Do you think I’m breeding ready?” As my eyes went over her wide hips and jiggling breasts: “Definitely.” “I could get pregnant even today. Can you imagine? I’d make a baby for us. A strong black baby, of course, the only type that’s worth having. Would you like that? Would you like to know your girl is carrying a superior man’s child?” She took my hand and placed it over the hot flesh of her stomach, letting me feel the silky skin and the hard abs flexing under it. “Can you imagine cuddling me to sleep as a black baby is growing inside of me, sweetheart?” She brought her braid around and stroked it suggestively as I melted under her unbearably hot gaze. Suddenly, Lara stepped back and grinned, as I was left trembling with arousal from her words. “Got you.” It was funny to her, but scary to me. In a matter of seconds she managed to take me to an entirely different place. Surely I wouldn’t have wanted another guy to really make her pregnant. But all it took to make me feel like that's what I wanted most in the world were a couple of well-placed words. “I--” Her phone rang before I could speak. Lara spoke to her mother quickly and politely, then hang up and cursed. “Fuck. Honey, you need to go. My mom’s coming. We’ll talk later.” And just like that, with questions in my head and an unbearable erection, she threw me out of her apartment, even before I could deliver Yenn’s message. She can’t say I didn’t try.   It’s time to unwind, I thought. But as soon as I got home, Mom came and told me in a hush-hush manner that my cousin came over and that she was resting in my room. “Be nice to her, she’s having a rough patch.” My cousin Sonia and I weren’t very close. We had been once upon a time, eons ago, but then she moved away with the rest of her family. I still remembered the clumsy way we parted ways when she left home, with her refusing to come out of the car to say goodbye. I only saw the back of her ginger head through the window. Of course, we talked since then, but it always felt like talking to a stranger… So, why did she come here today? The door to my room opened soundlessly, and Sonia was just there… sleeping on the bed. The way her hip rose in the air was as a mountain, the light jeans stretched to their utmost as she bent towards my view. Despite the larger-than-life rounded fat ass in front of me, her waist was small, and her lower half bent almost entirely out of view so that it was all one could see from the door. I gulped. “Sonia?” She exhaled softly. “Cuz? Is that you?” “It is.” Her head came around, just enough that one of her bright aqua eyes connected with me and realized her huge butt was lewdly directed right at my face. Blushing, she sat up and awkwardly played it off by toying with her fingers. “Sorry about that…” But now I could see her chest and the extreme way the ribs of her green sweater stretched across it. God, how big had she gotten since I last saw her? Even with as thicc as she was, those cowtits were massive... “Sorry to pop in like this.” “No worries, I’m happy to see you.” Sonia seemed weirded out by that. “You are? But we barely talk… Listen, I wanted to ask you something: Do you think I’m a good person?” “S-Sure,” I quickly voiced. “Why wouldn’t you be?” “You know I’ve been dating this guy for a while now… and I think I screwed it all up. He had this friend he said was platonic, his best friend, but I made him break off all contact with her. Then it turned out he was talking with her after all, and so I followed them.” “You followed them?” “To prove that he was lying! But I didn’t get the reaction I wanted… He was just… He cried, Cuz. He said I made him break the heart of his best friend. And she called me a bitch. And so…” And so she came to me to make her feel better about her shitty behavior. Six years we didn’t speak, and now this?... I did my part. I weaved her a version about how he should have been honest from the start or explained his position better, and how I always knew she was good and honest. It was enough to make tears well in her eyes and get her to smile. “Oh, Cuz, you’re so nice to me… You always knew how to make me feel better. I missed that. A lot.” As she spoke, I couldn’t help but wonder how big those jugs on her chest were. They were at least three times bigger than Lara’s - simply gigantic. And none of it was there when I saw her just a few summers ago. The words BREEDING READY from before came to mind, and all I could imagine was a black baby suckling from each one of those milkers. “Hey… You aren’t staring at my boobs, are you? Hehe!~ Don’t worry, everyone does it. Even old grannies.” Her hands came around them as if they were her babies. “You need strong hands just to lift them up.” “Black hands.” My reply wasn’t even conscious. I just spoke. “Huh? Come again?” I couldn’t believe what came out of my mouth. “Nothing, nothing! I was muttering to myself.” But seriously, it was undeniable that she would have looked perfect getting blacked. All those soft white folds enveloping a big black cock, that ginger hair getting pulled on by strong dark hands… “Was your boyfriend white?” Sonia thought about that. “I mean, yeah. Why do you ask?” I shrugged. “A lot of girls in my school date black guys.” “Really? Oh, wow. I could never do that!” The way she said it sounded so amazed and confident that there wasn’t a doubt in my mind she meant it: the idea of dating a black guy hadn’t even occurred to her. “I don’t really think I’d feel comfortable, you know?” “Dating someone that isn’t a pale ginger?” Sonia smirked. “No, you idiot! Dating a person that’s, you know… God, don’t make me say it. I feel bad saying it. But black guys aren’t exactly my type, let’s put it that way.” The almost completely unveiled racism combined with my antipathy towards her coming all this way just to use me made me want to see her punished and blacked. Hard. “Why don’t we go out?” “Hmmm? Go out? Where to?” “Let’s find you a boyfriend.” “Hahaha! You aren’t serious, are you? You’re crazy, Cuz. I don’t even have good clothes.” “You look fucking amazing already. Come on.” Sonia lowered her head shyly, so far down it was almost in her boobs. “You keep complimenting me, I’m gonna die. But okay. Let’s do it!” Before that, I needed to make a call. I left her in the room and headed to the bathroom, then scrolled with shaky fingers for Yennefer’s name. It rang a couple of times, then it said busy. Busy? Seriously… As I stared at the screen at the denied call, I suddenly saw my face reflected back. She was video calling me. Oh god… Her pale and dark-haired form materialized on my screen. She wore a shiny robe and was brushing her hair. “Why, hello darling. You’re a fast little worker bee, aren’t you? I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Has dear sweet Lara seen come to terms with the new way things will work from now on?” “Uhhh… I’m working on it,” I said optimistically. Yenn stared right into the camera so I could feel her icy stare and sighed. “Disappointing, yet predictable. What would you like from me? I hope you aren’t begging for a show, I’m quite dressed and ready for my beauty sleep.” “Uh, no, no, no…” Her eyes narrowed threateningly. “I mean, I would LOVE that, but no… I wanted your help. You see my cousin’s over and I thought I would, uh…” “Initiate her in the Dark Arts?” “Something like that, yeah.” “And she’s come to our church begging for our teachings, or are you seeking the BBC version of a koan to force enlightenment upon her?” “Whatever the second is, probably.” Yenner smiled affably. “You are endearingly stupid, do you know that?” “Yes.” “Now, now.” She raised a finger in warning. “Vanity does not suit a man. Anyway, I suppose I can arrange this for you. I am very generous. Get your delightful cousin, I’ll send you an address soon enough.” “Thank you, Yennefer.” A smirk. She reached so far back with her brush that the robe began to open, showing a glimpse of-- Call ended. Sonia and I snuck out before my mom became aware. I only called her once we were at the bus station, pretending that Sonia insisted I go and that I had no choice. Meanwhile, Yenn sent me an address that appeared to be closeby. Standing there at the bus station by herself, my ginger cousin looked oddly vulnerable. She seemed very conscious of her bovine ass and breasts and the way everyone stared at her over them. A few girls that were trying to show cleavage by squeezing together some breasts that were baby-sized gave her genuinely hateful looks. “I hope that place we’re going to is more friendly…” I was worried Yenn would send us to some seedy club, but it turned out to be some teenage meeting spot, a book store turned cafe after 5 p.m. where people could take books out and read them while drinking. Sonia loved it, and we sat there for a whole two hours while I wondered if I had gotten the place wrong. “This is great, you know!~” She smiled happily as she flipped through another book she found. “Going out was a great idea. Not many boyfriends here though, except maybe the ones in these pages.” There was nothing to do but pay and make our way back home. Yennefer, what the hell? It was as we were chatting and walking up towards the bus stop that three guys got in our way. They looked like proper thugs, with face tats and golden teeth that flashed while they spoke. I said black guys, not fucking criminals, Yenn. “The fuck do we have here?” one of them said, circling around Sonia. “Ginger meat.” Another rubbed his palms together eagerly, then pulled on his crotch. “Looks tasty.” Sonia’s gaping eyes glanced at me as the three walled her in and started groping her, tugging at her tight sweater, palming her huge ass cheek, and running their dark fingers through her ginger hair. The few white guys that passed us by pretended not to see it and kept going like proper cucks. “Leave me alone…” said Sonia breathlessly. “I’ll call the police. Cuz!” I raised the phone to give the impression, at least, until one of them yelled at me to put it down or get my ass beaten down. I was beginning to question whether or not these people had anything to do with Yennefer at all. Could they have just been random guys? A bit suspicious… “Seriously…” Sonia tried again, her voice breaking down. One of the guys reached up and got a feel of her breasts, sinking his fingers into the warm folds of the plump flesh. “Goddamn,” he drawled. “These are some monster tits on you, aren’t they? We should inspect these. Make sure you don’t have breast cancer.” “I don’t!...” It was too late for her to fight back, as they were already pulling her after them. Whatever fight there was in Sonia evaporated pretty quickly when facing three black guys with arms about as thick as her waist. What kind of girl could have fought just one of them, let alone three? “Cuz! Do something!” she yelled. “What’s he gonna do?” one of the guys asked, laughing. That was true, I wasn’t about to do much of anything, except follow along and see where this led. They took her down an alley and then up a set of stairs that led to an apartment. They got her in the living room and locked the door, then threw her on the sofa as they took off their tops. Even my cousin, as strongly as she must have felt against the idea of being taken like this for the first time, took a moment to stare at the rippling musculature of their glistening and tattooed chests. Already, their dicks were so hard that they were outlined down the side of their pants, twitching ready. To my surprise, they didn’t rip her clothes off. In fact, despite all their big talk about how they were going to inspect her and so on, patting her down and feeling her up through her clothes was the most of what they seemed to be doing. Sonia looked away as they explored every curvy of her body, moaning each time they squeezed too hard on her. One of them came and dropped down on the sofa and pulled her in his lap, while the other two flanked Sonia. “Such a pretty ginger slut,” the one to her left said, coiling some of her ginger hair around his dark finger. “Uhm…” Though she appeared distressed, it was clear that the all the touching and attention affected her body on a deep primordial level. Not only were her cheeks a deep red, but her eyes were fluttering and her chest heaved with her heated, breathless inhalations. “Cuz?”...” said a lone whisper, but she wasn’t even looking at me. Only at the strong black bulls surrounding her that were ready to put her in her place. The guys took her pale hands and brought them down to their dicks as they throbbed through their pants, snaking so far down their thighs that even I found myself hypnotized. I watched dumbfounded as Sonia’s expression went from one of excitement, to pure shock as her fingertips explored the length and shape of their powerful shafts. “You like that?” they asked her. “You feel that thing under you?”  The guy she was sitting on started moving his hips and grinding her ass back and forth over his dick, slowly moving her back and forth while she jumped each time his dick hit her crotch. I could only wonder what her parents or boyfriend might have seen if they saw her being slutted up like this. Her mind was being warped in real time, and I could see the enchanted smile that started curling her as she took in the true size and might of those big black cocks. Her palms started moving by themselves over the shafts; at the same time, her own hips started rocking and helping the bull under her. Turned on by her new show of interest, the studs plunged their hands into her doughy breasts, each one kneading a different part, their strong fingers abusing the soft teenage tits of this breeding snowfunny as her white cousin watched helplessly. At some point one must have accidentally pinched one of her nipples, because Sonia threw her head back in pure pleasure and cooed submissively. The guy under her grinned, flashing his golden teeth. “You like that, bitch?” The aqua eyes looked to me for a brief second, as if seeking my approval. “I love it,” she confessed, still blushing wildly with shame, but completely unable to help herself. From the exhilarated way she sought to touch their cocks, it was crystal clear that the drugging effect of BBC lured her in. Her eyes went from one dick to another, gaping and unable to look away. “They’re getting bigger!” Sonia was awestruck. “No shit.” My cousin bit her tongue, then the wet mouth opened instinctively. “Can I see?...” she whispered, as if hoping no one could hear that. “What was that?” asked the guy under her. “N-Nothing,” stammered Sonia. The thugs brofisted each other and laughed it up. “You hear that, bro? She wants to see your dick.” The more I watched these guys, the more I realized there was something off about them. They were just so… stereotypically thuggish. There was an unreality about their behavior that went at odds with the mild manner in which they conducted themselves. The black guy under her yanked her head back by the hair and looked her in the eyes. “Well? Did he hear it right? You want us to get our dicks out and fuck you?” Sonia hesitated for a second. But it was only a second. A clear gulp went down her throat. “Yes.” The thug shook her. “Say it, you dumb white bitch. I want to hear it.” The obscene cowtits trembled on her chest. “I want to see your dick.” “My black dick.” Sonia’s eyes closed and she took a deep breath. “I want to see your black dick. Please,” she added. “Please? Well, ain’t you fuckin’ thoughtful. On your knees.” “Huh?” Before she could follow any order, the thug threw her to the ground and stood up before her, ordering her to kneel. “On your fucking knees, bitch! Now! Don’t you fucking hear me?” Sonia did as told and got down in a position of total submission, presenting herself as her hands were folded in her lap. “Please, sir…” He grabbed her by the ginger locks and came close enough that the outline of his big black cock twitching in his pants was right in her face. “Why don’t you kiss my dick? Show me how much you like it.” This time, there was no lag between his order and her actions. As if she were planning to do it all along, the full lips puckered up and landed right on the shaft, not just once, but many times over, delivering kisses so gentle they could have been meant for a lifelong lover. Even her tongue came out to lick it up and down, not caring it was trapped behind a layer of fabric. The thug laughed grimly, then pressed her face against his dick gleefully. I watched my racist cousin smile happily as she got her nose and mouth rubbed against his black cock. Yenn, you delivered… “Please, sir, just let me see it… Please…” she begged, as obedient as any worshiper now. How she went from a kidnapped victim to a cockcrazed slut in less than fifteen minutes was pure magic. He snorted and pushed her away. “Fuck no. Dumb white bitch. You think I’d waste my energy with you? We’re done here. Come on, get the fuck out of here.” Before Sonia could wipe the shock off her ashen face, he started kicking at her to get out, finally grabbing her by the hair and to shove her out the door like unwelcome trash. I was left behind, and once the door closed, the thug came over to me and spoke casually: “Okay, I think we’re done here,” he said, in a totally different voice. “Are we good?” “Uhm. I’m not sure?...” “Yenn said she needed a bit of a push... so, we got her there, right?” The other two started removing the gold off their teeth and wiping off the face tats. Wow. It had all been a sham? The guy watched me impatiently. “Well?” “Yes, you did great…” “That’s wonderful.” He put his hands together and bowed ever so slightly. “Thanks. So how would you rate my performance, on a scale of one to ten?” “Oh my god,” the other two said, dropping their thuggish voices as well. “Leave the kid alone, man, he’s not here to rate your acting. Performance, he says.” They snorted. “You haven’t gotten a role in two months.” “If this wasn’t a role, then I guess I won’t share the pay, huh? Anyway, you should go now. Tell our friend things went well, I could use the boost.” I came out of the apartment amazed at their and Yenn’s professionalism, and found a dismayed Sonia waiting for me. “Jesus!” She ran over and hugged me, and I could feel the warm breasts pressing into me. “I thought they were going to hurt you.” “Thankfully not.” She took a step aside and pushed her hair back, avoiding eye contact. “What happened in there… You know that was just acting, right? I was just trying to avoid getting raped or worse.” There was no way that was the truth of it. Even if she played it up, she definitely got excited by them… she still was, as could be seen from the glazed eyes and the shivers that kept passing through her. Yenn, you should’ve told them to go the whole way... As we went back home, I could tell her mind was elsewhere. “You said… those girls at your school only date black guys?” she asked me once we were back on the bus, going home. “Most of them.” “Huh.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “None of them got hurt?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hurt? Why would they get hurt? How racist are you, Cuz?” “Not racist! I’m just wary of new things, that’s all. But that’s… that’s good to hear.” For someone that had just been kidnapped and molested by black thugs, at least as far as she was aware, this was a very sudden change of heart in the opposite direction. “Maybe one day I’ll give it a shot.” I felt like toying with her further. “You just have to be careful.” “Careful?” Sonia blinked anxiously. “Of what?” “You know…” I kept my voice low as other passengers crowded around us. “That.” “I don’t know,” whispered Sonia harshly. “Tell me!” “I mean, you saw it even tonight. Black guys have cocks so big that they’re incomparable to tiny white pencil dicks. Most girls can’t take that. Some of them like serving as cocksleeves, sure, but it will still tear you apart and ruin you. These bulls will fuck you so hard that you scream and lose your voice. You won’t even be able to walk or talk after they’re done with you. You’ll just be a shivering hot mess. And the best ones get so many girls that they have no long term interests. All they’ll do is break you, put a black baby inside of you, and then throw you away like a used rag.” I could almost see the whole scene playing out in her head through the small movements of her face. At the end she just looked inwards, licking and biting her lip. I felt proud, pulling the same trick on her that Lara did on me, though I was getting aroused as well.. “Sounds awful,” she whispered, not even there with me anymore. Sonia was in her mind now, getting destroyed by black cock. In the span of a single evening, my “cuz” was turned into yet another BBC slut. I did this, I realized. Pride swelled in my heart.

[haifengg]

The Dutch Room - Chapter 5

Find all chapters here!

The people working at Panoma were as different as they could possibly be. There were only a few things they all had in common and one of these things was the love for Barbara. Pretty much every Panoma employee was coming here at least twice a week and it wasn’t just because the place was run by their close friend Taeil but also because Taeil was offering the two most appealing things humankind knew about: Booze and Girls.

Even though the ladder only appeared to about 95% of Panama's personnel, at least one half of the 5% was a regular at Barbara herself and June was in no way inferior to her male colleagues.

Perhaps she liked Barbara for other reasons than maybe Doyoung or Johnny but she liked it. The money they spend on girls, she invested in drinks. Every time she came here she remembered how important this was to her. Just like now.

Taeil was part of the Panoma team from the very beginning. In fact he had already been there when June joined the company so wasn’t really able to tell how he got there or what he was doing before he became a male madam. All she knew was that the lady who used to run the place was the actual Barbara but she never got to meet her just once.

That in mind June sometimes wondered what the place had looked like before it was passed on to her friend. The premises were located on the first floor above a copy shop a few blocks from their office. Which made it reachable and a place to go for a drink after work. Or for something else to do after work.

Taeil once told her that he refurbished the whole space except the bar. According to him it was hard to arrange the counter, drinks and shelves in an actually effective way and when he first started working here it was the first thing catching his attention: How easy it was to operate behind the counter and how everything was at the most ideal place possible. So he decided to keep it this way and it remains the same until today.

“I heard you helped out the big boss.” June stated, sitting on one of the high stools, stirring in her drink.

Taeil just showed up again after picking something off the floor. “Pardon me?”

She chuckled. “I said: I heard you helped out Jaehyun with something?”

He grinned. “Please, you don’t need to act as if you don’t know. I’m aware he’s telling you everything.”

June shrugged. “Not everything.”

“You know, even though Doyoung is officially his boy for everything and Johnny’s acting as his right hand, you’re the one he tells things.”

“Speaking of which-” June turned around as she spotted Doyoung from the corner of her eye. “There is our boy for everything!”

She grinned at him widely, watching him approaching with a woman closely following him.

“How’s it going pal?” June asked and thrived on the annoyed look he responded with.

Doyoung might not like being teased but if he would be serious about that he surely wouldn’t make it so damn easy for her.

“You do remember you have work tomorrow? That means getting out of bed on time.” She reminded him, her voice raised, as they walked past her.

Doyoung didn’t stop as he answered “You just go fuck yourself.” and disappeared with his usual hostess to the usual room.

June scoffed and mumbled into her glass “I would still be doing a better job than any guy I had lately.”

Taeil laughed. The Panoma people not just became friends to him, after years of being loyal customers, but some of them turned this place into his home away from home. And June was one of the people he got so close with he would consider her a sister.

“To answer your question: Yes I did.”

She looked up. “Did what?”

Taeil sighed and leaned forward. “I helped out Jaeyhun with this problem of yours.”

“So I was right. He didn’t tell me anything but I had a feeling.”

“Someone had to. Your boyfriend left quite a void we had to fill. That was some hell of a talk we had the other day and I’m glad we came up with something.”

June’s lively vibes died the second Taeil not only mentioned Lucas but also called him her boyfriend. She hated it when people knew better and still don’t care.

“He wasn’t my boyfriend. How many times do I have to tell you? I thought you would especially get it.”

“Why?” Taeil scoffed and handed a drink to one of his employees. The woman had just walked up to the bar and left with the drinks in her hand, without wasting a thought about the two of them or what they were talking about. “Because I own and run a hostess bar I would know about you don’t catch feelings for anyone?”

“Yes?”

“Honey, exactly because I do what I do and see what I see I know how it looks like.”

Now it was her turn to scoff. “And that makes you an expert about what I feel?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just that I saw how you were letting yourself go just a little bit. People who didn’t know you wouldn’t have noticed.”

“But you do know me, huh?”

He smiled. “I imagine I know you quite well. I learned a lot about you the past few years and I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Well”, June said and chugged the last bit of her drink: “I’m sorry to tell you you’re mistaken if you think i could actually have cared about Lucas.”

She got up and grabbed her purse. “The only thing I cared about by that time was how the hell we were going to fix the catastrophe he caused and how we would be able to pull off everything we’ve worked for. To think a man - no - a fling was more important to me than the actual cause is foolish of you and you should know better. Good night.”

***

He dearly enjoyed her presence.

In this place of dozens of women it seemed to him as if she was the only sane one.

Compared to some of her coworkers she wasn’t actually pretty in a way which only meant she wasn’t hitting every single beauty standard society had come up with.

But she was ticking all the correct boxes for him. Her face was symmetrical but it looked like someone started to draw a portrait with a lot of motivation but lost track halfway through the process. And she knew that.

But instead of trying to cover it up or undergo plastic surgery she wore it with pride. Anong was never wearing heavy make-up and at some point Doyoung wasn’t sure if she even knew how to put it on.

In any case: He prefered her this way. Natural and approachable.

He was seeing her for almost 2 years every time he visited Barbara and he enjoyed her company up to this day. She made sure to always book the very same room beforehand when she knew he was visiting. Anong could sense how important consistency was to him.

“You know I’m discreet.” She said carefully and sat up. Anong never bothered to cover up her chest with the sheets or anything. Doyoung had once asked her about it and by that time she just laughed it off, replying that he had seen it anyway so why bother? Doyoung nodded at her question, calmly smiling and responded: “I know. That’s why I like you.”

“And you also know I am not into gossip. At all.”

He nodded again. “I know.” By now he could sense something was weighing heavy on her shoulders and he was impressed how well she hid the entire time they spent together this evening.

Anong rubbed her arm and avoided his eyes for a sheer second before taking the courage to ask:

“I am not asking this for myself but” She looked up meeting his gaze. “why has Lucas not been around for a while?”

Doyoung pushed parts of the sheets aside to sit up a little bit more straight. “What do you mean exactly?”

She tugged her hair behind her ears with both hands and took a deep breath.

"I'm asking this for two of the other girls. They are worried.”

“Honestly” He put up his hands. “I don’t know anything about his habits and who he is seeing.”

Anong sighed. She could sense how his mood changed, even though his face didn’t and immediately regretted having brought it up. But she had no choice.

“That’s not what I mean. You know some of us have children who they have to provide for. Those girls, the ones he was seeing, they’re struggling. So bad. And I need to tell them something. They know I am seeing you regularly so they keep asking me. They are my friends, please.”

The bagging tone rang out and made Doyoung get up and reach for his clothes.

“I can’t tell you anything about work.” He said terse as he pulled up his pants.

“I know but -"

“I can’t tell you anything about work.” He repeated with more emphasis and turned around. “If I were them I wouldn’t wait for him, there are plenty of other men out there.”

Anong looked him directly in the eye and understood what he was saying to her even if he didn’t exactly put it into words. She also knew that he wasn’t mad at her in any way. He understood she had to ask and she understood that he couldn’t talk about it. His job was at stake. Maybe more.

She watched him putting on his remaining clothes and eventually got up on her knees to check his tie. The rooms at Barbara didn’t have any mirrors for some weird reason so this became their little ritual because he hated looking sloppy.

As he walked up to the door she carefully asked: “You got nothing to do with it, right?”

Doyoung turned around, one hand on the door nod. “You know what I do for a living.” Then he paused, taking in the picture of the naked woman sitting on the disarranged sheets. This flawed woman that eventually got under his skin without him planning on it.

“You’re not one of the ones with children, right?”

Anong smiled softly. “You know what I do for a living.”

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[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 167:  The Good Doctor

The morning after Jefferson and his daughter arrived, they left. Just as the sun was coming up, he heard them stir from their rooms, pack the little they'd brought with them, and leave without saying good-bye to him and, apparently, to Belle as well. For when he sat down to breakfast that morning, and Belle brought their food, he noted four plates instead of her usual two.

"My, my, my…are we eating for two?" he questioned.

"I figured our guests would be hungry and might be joining us."

"They won't be," he informed her as she set his plate down in front of him. "They left early this morning, long before you rose. I'm afraid it's just the two of us again."

He watched carefully as she let out a breath that almost looked relieved. Not exactly what he would have expected to see on her face, especially now that she wasn't permitted to go back to the village to meet new strangers. But then she smiled and shrugged.

"It's not the worst thing in the world…" she muttered before taking her seat.

No, it wasn't, and that was exactly why he was leaving. He informed her then that he was planning on being out of town for a couple of days and would be back when his business concluded. She'd asked where he was going, he was helpless to joke with her about how she'd have to wait to find out with her next book. He couldn't leave soon enough. Because the truth was that he'd spent the night thinking about it, thinking about her, and he'd come to a conclusion. He had to do something. The way he saw it, he had two options. The first nearly brought him to tears. He could send her away. How many times had he been back to that option? How many times had he considered it? And how many times had it always fallen through because he didn't want to do it? Because he couldn't imagine his life in this castle now without her? He was losing count. And now he could add another tick to that tally. He couldn't do it. The idea of separating from her, of sending her away, never checking in on her…it was too painful to ever allow him to follow through, at least never completely.

And so there was one last option-Jefferson's idea. No, he hadn't named it in so many words, but he knew the man well enough to understand what he'd been hinting at the night they'd talked. Go to this place called "England", find the man, Dr. Jekyll, see if he'd perfected his serum. If he had, he'd use it. Control over his inner beast, that was what he needed. He needed to bring the Dark One closer to the surface. He felt strongly that whatever he felt for her was a human reaction, but the Dark One, if he could be given more control, wouldn't let himself be drawn to her as he was. The Dark One wouldn't feel such weakness as the human did. That was, of course, only a theory, one he hoped he'd get the opportunity to discuss with the doctor. So, after telling Belle he was leaving, he let a small amount of the liquid Jefferson had poured out for him hit the floor. A portal opened, and he jumped into a world that was quiet unlike what he was used to; streets lined with stone instead of dirt, black efficient carriages, men with tall hats and strange jackets and pants. At least the women wore clothes that looked familiar…more or less. Their dresses-

To his right, a woman screamed. He whipped around, trying to figure out what she might have been looking at, but when he turned, he found that it was him. He was the reason. Her eyes bulging as she stared at him, pointed, and then drew her hands back and let loose another ear-piercing scream like she'd just seen a ghost or a dragon or some monster from the depths of an ocean. He disappeared. It wasn't as easy as it always was, an indication that though magic existed in this realm it was weak, similar to what he'd encountered in the Land Without Color. He'd have to use what he had sparingly. Of course, the irony of it was that in order to do his hunting for Jekyll, he was about to use a great deal of it to hide his appearance and himself from the citizens of this world, at least until he found the doctor.

It took him two days. Two solid days of exploration, hiding, wandering, sneaking in and out of places to get his answers. In the end, he'd found him because someone he'd passed on the street muttered his name, the name Doctor Jekyll. If he'd heard him right, the man was working with him. He promptly followed the man to a place called "hospital," where he found people wandering the halls without clothes. Men were tied to beds in one wing with thick leather straps. Some of them were lost in a stupor; others thrashed about screaming obscenities as women and men dressed in white ignored them as if it happened every day! That was where the man on the street worked. It was also, apparently, where Doctor Jekyll worked. He wasn't what he expected.

After two days of searching only finding him with a little luck, he'd already put together that he wasn't well known, something that didn't bode well for the potion-serum. Jekyll was a doctor, it seemed, but not a paid one. He volunteered at the asylum. Following him around all day told him that he was no more or less talented than the other doctors around him. A scrawny thing, standing just a bit taller than he was, he was pale in a sickly way with a stench that made him think the only thing he excelled at was perspiration. If he were to touch him, he imagined his skin would be quite clammy. He had straight sandy hair too long to be short and too short to be long. He wore thin round glasses, had a face only a mother would love, and noted that the clothes he wore were hardly what the rich of this world were wearing.

He followed him home that night, sneaking in through the door behind him. He intended to sneak up on him in his home, but when he arrived he saw that "home" was more laboratory than dwelling. There was a small cot off to one side, and a rack of clothing mostly copies of what he wore now just in different shades, though he noted that when he arrived home, he pulled off a few of his "finer" things and began to dress, allowing him to explore his "home" a bit more. There was a fire in the grate and a couch on the far side, but those were the most "homey" accommodations he saw. It reminded him of his tower. Aside from those few comforts he was surrounded by flasks and baubles and beakers, holding liquids of various colors in numerous quantities. He'd meant to speak to him, talk to him about what Jefferson had told him about, but before he could, the door to his apartments opened. A woman strode in as if she was at home, and Jekyll barely blinked an eye. A wife? He saw no ring on her finger, though perhaps this was a world that didn't follow that tradition.

"Thank you for arranging this, Mary," he stuttered out as she fixed the odd-looking stock around his neck.

Bow tie. The Seer whispered.

What an odd thing to wear…and "bow tie"…he supposed he could see where the "bow" part came from, but the "tie" bit was a mystery.

"I-I can't tell you how much this means to me."

How had he been able to guess he'd be one to stutter? Still, their interaction at least gave him something useable. She wasn't a wife. His tone was too strained. He was more comfortable with Belle in the room than Jekyll was with…Mary, was it? However, the way Jekyll's heart raced as she touched him certainly suggested that she meant more than friend. But hers didn't. Her pulse was even and calm, there wasn't a hit of desire in her smell which suggested to him that she didn't feel the same way about him that he did about her. Unrequited love. It made this interesting, no matter how much it was threatening to ruin his own life.

"There's no need to be nervous," she responded to his pathetic stuttering. "Father's going to love your work!"

As if on cue, the door opened again and this time a man a few inches shorter than Jekyll entered.

He recognized him. He'd been lurking around this strange place for days, and he'd seen this man before. Very few individuals in this place stood out, but he did because of what he'd caught him doing. He'd seen him with a woman late last night in an ally outside of the Science Academy. He'd been with that woman in such a way that even he thought it was dirty. Fortunately, he'd arrived on the tail end of their dalliances and when they were done, they'd talked about going to a ball tonight. They'd joked about passing each other in the night and having another little tryst before it all began, when her husband got in and she could easily wander away from him and he could wander away from his wife. "There's another lovely little alleyway outside the Science Academy that should keep us in shadow. All the world shall see, and none shall know." As much as it had made him gag, the woman seemed interested. Exhibitionists…what a terrible little fetish and yet…it was something to keep in mind.

He watched as pleasantries were exchanged between Mary, Jekyll, and her father who was called Dr. Lyndgate before he questioned "Now, what's so important I had to be pulled away from scotch and cards at the Academy?"

He snickered...it wasn't just scotch and cards he was missing, he was certain.

"Ah! Allow me to show you, right over here," Jekyll motioned. "This serum, once perfected, will be capable of separating a man's personality in two and dividing the higher, more noble aspects of his nature from the primitive beast of which every man is born."

"Intriguing."

Intriguing, indeed. It was perfect. A more perfect night to spy he could not have chosen. For now, he had no need to interrogate the man before him, just listen to his presentation on a serum, which, he noted, was still not done. Jefferson said it was missing something. He rather agreed. He was certain that he could provide that "little something" just as he'd given a "little something" to his other doctor-friend, the question was, what would he do if the serum worked?

"Imagine if man were in control of the beast within, rather than slave to it!"

"How can you be certain your serum wouldn't make things worse?"

"It can't get any worse for Henry's patients," Mary explained. "They have no hope at all."

"Dr. Lyndgate, if I had the Scientific Academy behind my work-"

"So that's what this is about, you want me to grant you membership to the academy!"

"Well-"

"I'm afraid I can't offer it. Your work is dangerous! Good evening, Dr. Jekyll! Come, Mary!"

Well…that had escalated quickly.

The girl looked back and forth between the doctor and her father before crying, "I'm sorry" and chasing after her father. And then…something interesting.

Jekyll's heart began to race, he watched as he began to huff and puff so hard he wondered if he might blow the fire out, but instead he picked up one of his beakers and threw it into the fire so that it exploded. It was then that he strode over to the window and peered out at it. Oh, that was very interesting. What had Jefferson said? He was a man at war with himself. Oh, he may say he wanted that serum for his patients, but he wondered if there wasn't someone else he wanted it for.

[evalinkatrineberg]

Book Club?

A/N: Thank you @ladyreggiewright for a fun rp! Who would’ve thought that Reggie and Evalin would get along so well?! 

The words in the french textbook on the table in front of me were starting to blur at this point. How long had I been in the library now? Four hours? Five? I had lost track, and was too scared to look at my watch to check. This was ridiculous. I had grown up bilingual. Learning a third language shouldn’t be a difficult task for me to accomplish, and yet, French grammar was throwing me for a loop. What language needed five past tenses? It was excessive, in my opinion.

I rubbed my eyes, forcing them to focus on the words printed in the book once again. Behind me, I could hear footsteps approaching, the sound of someone's shoes hitting the floor reverberating through the nearly empty library. Whoever it was stopped two chairs over from where I was sitting, and curiosity got the better of me. Tucking my loose hair behind my ears, I looked up.

It was Reggie Wright. That was one name I couldn’t forget. When discussing the other Selected girls before I came here, Lydia and June had both been extremely eager to share their opinions on what they were sure the other girls would be like. They ended up coming to the same conclusions for most of the Selected, but Reggie had become a point of contention between the two of them. Lydia had insisted that Reggie must be a haughty know-it-all, citing many photos of her not smiling, and her job at a law firm - a home for the hoity-toity folk, as Lydia called it - as proof. June had disagreed, arguing that Reggie and I were actually probably quite similar, which seemed like a logical theory to me. She had pulled up some instagram fan account of some sort dedicated to Reggie, which was filled with pictures of her doing normal, everyday things, along with many photos of her smiling. She had a really nice smile, I had to admit.

I caught Reggie’s eye as she took her seat, flashing her a grin before turning back to my notes. Where was I? Right, past tenses. Why were there so many?

Reggie cleared her throat, pulling my focus back to her again. She was wearing a casual dress, with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. When she saw she had my attention, she asked, “Making progress?”

I glared at my book. The truth of the matter was I had been making progress, up until I had hit these past tenses. French vocabulary wasn’t particularly challenging, considering the Latin roots of many of the words, which made me grateful that so much terminology in biology was rooted in Latin. However, I’d been struggling with the past tenses for a few days now, which wasn’t ideal, to say the least. “A bit,” I finally answered. “Not as much as I’d like.”

Reggie hummed thoughtfully for a moment, opening her own book and clicking her pen. She looked away from me, and began to pick up my own pen, confident that that was to be the sum of our interaction. She didn’t strike me as a particularly talkative person.

“Anything in particular you’re studying?”

Oh, so she does want to have a conversation, then.

“French,” I answered. “I thought it might prove useful - more useful than my Swendish, at least. What about you? What brings you here?” I lifted my gaze to meet hers.

She flipped up the cover of the book she had just placed on the table and replied, “Discourse on Inequality.” I felt the color rising to my cheeks as she leaned over, inspecting my own notes and book. “French, huh? I consider it to be useful in my life so far.”

My brain put two and two together in that moment, and I realized that this could be a golden opportunity. Not only could I possibly find myself another friendly face around here, but maybe she’d be willing to help me out as well. “You speak it, then? Could I ask you a question about the past tense forms of verbs, then?”

With a sigh, she straightened her posture in her chair, clicking her pen as she turned towards me. “If you must.”

Perfect. “What’s the difference between the passé antérieur and the imparfait?” I put my pen down on top of my notebook before adding, “Why would you use one over the other?”

“The passé antérieur is not something you’d have to concern yourself with.” I found myself blinking as she spoke. Her pronunciation of the words was absolutely flawless. How long had she been speaking French? With a frown, she continued, “It’s hardly ever used in speaking. Sometimes, it’s used in old literary texts, however even natives don’t use it.”

Well, shit. What had I even been studying then? The textbook I had found must have been outdated. I dared to consider how much of the rest of what I had been learning might be unnecessary as well, but then dismissed the thought. Better to be over-prepared than underprepared, I supposed. Raising my eyebrows, I picked up my pen and drew a line through my notes on the passé antérieur, glad that in the very least, I wouldn’t have to waste time rewriting them later. “I see. Thank you.” I met her gaze once again, and added, “Is there something I can help you with in return?”

At my question, she started to scoff, and I felt my heart drop in my chest a bit. It appeared that Lydia had been right after all. “I doubt,” Reggie began, trailing off as she narrowed her eyes at me. “Wait, you’re the biology student, correct?”

Well, this was a twist. I wasn’t surprised that Reggie knew who I was, considering how much I and the other girls I had spoken to had prepared ourselves on information about the other girls here, but the fact that she had chosen to identify me but that one aspect of myself was intriguing to me. It really shouldn’t have been, if I was being honest, since studying biology was, admittedly, my defining character trait for most of my life, but Reggie struck me as the kind of person who would memorize names, faces, castes, and provinces before anything else.

I smiled in response. “Yes, that’s me.”

At that, she leaned in, extending her hand towards me, a polite smile plastered on her face. A job interview smile, is what I’d always referred to that expression as. It was almost like I was sitting at the lab table with a new coworker. In fact, I half expected someone to walk in and ask us if we wanted coffee or water.

“I’m Reggie,” she stated. “Nice to meet you, first of all.”

I mirrored her expression, extending my hand and shaking hers. God, the mannerisms, in combination with the outfit I had worn - black dress pants with a red blouse - really hit home the sensation of being back at work. Yet, this time when I thought about the lab, I wasn’t overwhelmed by butterflies in my stomach or a lump forming in my throat, but rather a sense of warmth that seemed to center me, grounding me in the moment. I could get used to this.

“Yes, you’re the political science student from Hansport, correct? I’m Evalin. It’s nice to meet you, too.” I withdrew my hand, reaching over to pick up my pen, which I then tapped against my chin. “So, what can I help you with?”

She nodded, raising both of her eyebrows, as if she might be surprised that I actually knew something about her. Odd. I found myself wondering who she had spoken to before this. Were there girls here who didn’t obsess over who they’d be spending the next few months of their lives with before they came here? I couldn’t fathom the idea.

“Well,” she began, “it’s been brought to my attention that I lack some knowledge on nature.” A grimace flashed across her face, and she cleared her throat before continuing. “Anyway, ecology being quite a broad field, perhaps you have some recommendations for me for some general information.”

Nature? Really? Of all things, why did she need more information on nature? Then again, who was I to stop her from learning more about anything. Maybe if she became interested enough in the subject, we could discuss it together. My main interest might be in cellular biology, but it had been so long since I’d talked to anyone about anything science related, that I’d take whatever I could get.

I hummed thoughtfully, continuing to tap my pen against my chin as I wracked my brain for titles she might find useful. “I believe I can. Are you looking for information about ecosystems, or something more along the lines of conservation or biodiversity?” I offered her an apologetic smile before adding, “Ecology is a broad field.”

She frowned, flipping through her notes for a moment before turning back to face me, her expression entirely serious. “Both. Both would be good.”

“Well,” I began, collecting my thoughts, “The Theory of Ecology by Mark Vellend might be a good place to start. Walden by Henry David Thoreau is probably right up your alley, too.” After a moment, I added, “I also have a book that I brought from home called Elements of Ecology that’s pretty comprehensive, but it’s a little dry. It definitely teaches a lot, though.” I narrowed my eyes. This might be my opportunity to learn a little more, too. Sure, she wasn’t a university professor, but she definitely appeared to be knowledgeable about political science. “Do you have any recommendations for someone who might be interested in learning more about political science, but is new to it?”

“Excellent.” She scribbled something down in her notebook, before looking back at me and blinking a couple of times. “Give me a moment.” I watched as she walked around some of the shelves, pausing to pull one off the shelf every now and then. When she was satisfied with her work, she returned to the table, placing five books down in front of me with a small smile. I decided then that I liked this side of Reggie. I was half tempted to ask her if she wanted to start a book club, considering the exchange of materials that was already happening.

Slow down. You’ve only just met her.

I returned her smile. “Thank you. I could give you my copy of Elements if Ecology, if you want. I actually think I might have it in my bag.” I reached down for my backpack, which was at my feet, leaning against the chair. It didn’t take me long to find the book. It was rather bulky, and hard to miss.

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “That would certainly be appreciated, yes. I will treat it with care, of course.”

I smiled at her, quickly pulling out some old note pages I had stored in the cover of the book before handing it over to her. “I have no doubts that you will. Keep it as long as you need.”

“Thank you, that is,” she paused for a moment, before finishing with, “kind.” She took the book, smiling politely as she quickly read the cover and walked back to her chair, sitting back down. After looking the book over some more and shaking her head, she turned back to me, inclining her head slightly. “So, you take this Selection serious enough to study for it, I see.”

“Well, I don’t want to look like a fool next to people like you, or Jen Li,” I admitted, shaking my head. “Biology may have provided me with the skills I need to be successful in a variety of fields, but it hasn’t provided me with the specialized knowledge for any settings outside of the lab.”

She held her head a little higher as she replied, “Good. Not all the girls mind looking like a fool, I suppose.” There was the Reggie Lydia seemed to expect, again. I couldn’t help but think about the other girls I had spoken to, and felt a pang of regret for not sticking up for them. Reggie, however, let out a short sigh, and then smiled at me once again. “I’m sure that with your academic background, you’ll catch up, even outside of a lab.”

I smiled a little wider at that. It was almost like being praised by a professor. “Thank you. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with ecology, either. It’s quite conceptual, in comparison to other subjects within biology, and intersects with various social sciences.”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure I’ll manage, thank you.” Again, she carefully lifted the cover of the book, checking the contents with a look of almost apprehension, a frown growing across her face. She turned back to me then, and asked, “Are you enjoying your stay?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately. It wasn’t a lie, but so much had happened, it was hard to pinpoint exactly how everything had left me feeling. I had discovered that it was easier to just focus on the highlights of being here. “Everybody has been kind so far, and the grounds themselves are amazing. There’s so many nice running trails, and between that, the gardens, and the access to the library, what more could I ask for, really?” I finished with a smile. “What about you?”

“I am,” she replied, though she was frowning. “It is challenging in terms of time management, but definitely a lot of new experiences.”

“Yeah,” I echoed in agreement, my eyes going a little wide as I shook my head. With a sigh, I continued, “I can relate to that. I never would have experienced even a quarter of what I’ve experienced here at home. I presume you’ve had some interesting meetings as well, then?”

She pursed her lips, but then said, “Interesting, yes, that’s probably the best way to describe them.” With a sideways glance at me, she added, “The prince is interesting as well.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?” I’d hardly been able to get more than a scripted nicety out of him. What had she discussed with him? “You must have had a much more scintillating discussion than he and I did.”

To my surprise, she shook her head, frowning. “I’m not sure scintillating is the right word,” she admitted. “Only time will tell how this Selection will progress, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “that’s for sure.” I felt my phone vibrate in my bag, and looked down at my watch, frowning when I realized what time it was. Seven hours. I had been in this library for seven whole hours. What was I doing? “Anyways, thank you for your help, but I actually have to go. I promised my sister I’d call her five minutes from now.” A lie. The buzzing of my phone in my bag was almost certainly Lydia calling me repeatedly for not calling her earlier, like I had said I would.

Reggie seemed not to notice, thankfully, and simply checked her own watch, nodding along. “Yes, of course. Thank you again. I’ll return it as soon as possible,” she finished, tapping my book for good measure.

“It was nice talking to you, Reggie,” I replied with a smile as I packed up my belongings, beginning to make my way down the hall. I wondered if she could see my bag vibrating. Maybe she’d just assume that my sister was impatient, and had called early. That would be ideal.

“Likewise,” I heard Reggie call from behind me as I made my way into the hallway.

I couldn’t help but smile as I made my way towards my room. Talking to Reggie had been nice, familiar, in a way that talking to the other girls had not. I’d have to seek her out again at some point, but right now, I had to hightail it back to my room, before Lydia screamed at me loud enough to burst my eardrums. I almost couldn’t wait to tell her that she had been wrong. Reggie was nice, and helpful, and I appreciated that.

[camryndaytona]

Cassandra Clare

Cassandra Clare is one of the most popular and successful young adult authors of today, however, a huge percentage of her fans have no idea of her past where she was know more for her bullying than her writing. I started this as a post on my “You Should Know” instagram, but eventually it got way too big and I had to create a post for it as well.

Terms to Know

Big Name Fan

Or “BNF” is an old term mostly used during the early 2000s, before ff.net or AO3.

They were the biggest names in fandom, producing the most popular art or fanfics.

Getting on the wrong side of a BNF could lock you out from the entire fandom, as you would be blocked from any forum they (or they friends) moderated.

The Inner Circle

In the early 2000s the Harry Potter fandom was essentially ruled by the Inner Circle. 

Although most of the Inner Circle changed constantly due to fandom drama and scandals, one member stayed for almost it’s entire duration: Cassie Claire

ff.net

Fanfiction.net

One of the early and most popular sites for hosting fanfiction.

The Draco Trilogy

Draco Dormiens

Author’s Summary: When an accident in Potions class turns Harry into Draco and Draco into Harry, each is trapped playing the part of the other. Romance, mistaken identities, Really Cunning Plans, evil bake sales, a love triangle, and snogs galore.

Draco Sinister

Author’s Summary: When Hermione is kidnapped, Harry and Draco must team up to rescue her from a thousand-year-old evil that threatens the entire wizarding world. Cursed demon swords, love potions, time travel, dementors, flying dragons, Draco wears leather, and everybody dies at least once. Except when they don’t.

It is notable for being the source of the Draco in Leather Pants trope as well as the catalyst for the Cassandra Claire plagiarism wank.

Draco Veritas

Author’s Summary: The sequel to Draco Sinister, featuring winter at Hogwarts, snogging, Quidditch, mysterious things and Rhysenn Malfoy.

Why was the Trilogy so popular?

As most people in fandom probably know, there’s usually two subsets of shippers: gay and straight (please note that, back in the early 2000s, there was still a lot of homophobia, and the heterosexual ships were undeniably more popular for that reason).

Since The Draco Trilogy had both Draco/Hermione and a lot of Harry/Draco subtext, fans of both ships flocked to the fic.

The Plagiarism 

Although she’d done it all along, it wasn’t until the second fanfic, Draco Sinister, that fans began to catch on. What was “it?”

Cassie including a lot of quotations from other work. And I mean a LOT. She lifted entire conversations and paragraphs from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Black Adder, Red Dwarf, and Terry Pratchett. At first she didn’t even mention this “inspiration,” so everyone assumed that this wit was all hers.

Once she was called out, she put a standard disclaimer at the top of her work, which was worded to imply that she might have borrowed a few, small quotes here and there, not that she was taking paragraphs and scenes. When she was called out for her continued plagiarism she switched to claiming that she “forgot” what her sources were.

Finally a former fan called Avocado got tired of it and reported her to ff.net. Within a day her works were taken down.

Predictably the fandom melted down over this and accusations began to fly. Cassie used her status as a BNF to ban anyone mildly critical of her from any message board or mailing list. A friend of Cassie’s claimed to be a real life lawyer and harrassed young fans with seemingly legal threats. There are even threats of people calling the police in an early form of “swatting.” Cassie tried to get a “hater” kicked out of university for “hacking” her and a REAL lawyer had to be involved before Cassie admitting to making it all up.

After all that began to die down, as she was working on the third installment of the trilogy, Cassie began accusing her friend and fellow BNF, Aja, of plagiarizing her. When that failed to incite the anger she wanted against Aja, Cassie began to claim that Aja was posting leaked spoilers for the Draco Trilogy. This infighting between the two lead to the collapse of The Inner Circle.

Laptop Gate

Although the third part of the Trilogy wasn’t as popular as the first two, due to the plagiarism scandal, it still racked up a ton of views when she began posting it. So when there was a potential threat to the continuation of the saga, readers were horrified.

This potential threat was a break in and the loss of Cassie’s computer.

Almost immediately after the robbery was announced Cassie’s lawyer friend (who was also her roommate) popped up again. This time, they were raising money to replace the laptops of Cassie and her roommates that had been stolen in the break in. Any extra money from the fundraiser would go to some vaguely mentioned charity.

Divisive comments poured in.

Some people expressed frustration that more “meaningful” fundraisers (like someone who had lost everything in a fire) didn’t get anywhere near as much attention and support.

Fans were even less happy when no proof was provided of either the break in or the charitable donation of excess funds (which was reported to be over $10,000).

When called out they changed the subject and posted links to another fan that was also fundraising (although they never posted any charity before or after, even when asked to do so the lawyer friend claimed to be “too busy” to share a link).

Published Works

After enjoying her celebrity as the Queen of Fanfiction, it’s no surprise that Cassie decided to venture into actual, original published works.

Except they weren’t that original, because it’s Cassie and she really, really seems to like “borrowing” from herself and others.

Let’s start with some name changes

Cassie

Cassandra Claire (with an i) is her fanfiction name

Cassandra Clare (without an i) is her published name

You may be surprised by how well this name change suited her. For a long time, before exposes began to be posted, you could google her published name without finding out about her history in fandom. Additionally, some of her victims from her fanfic days read her published books without realizing who the author actually was (until they started to recognize the quotes and paragraphs that she’d lifted straight from her fanfiction)

Her Writing

“Mortal Instruments” is Cassie’s Ginny/Ron incest romance fanfiction.

“The Mortal Instruments” is Cassie’s published work, about two fake siblings who fall in love with each other.

Similarities to Harry Potter

Now I haven’t read Mortal Instruments or The Mortal Instruments so I’ll let someone who has read them both do some explaining:

When I opened the book, I knew that Clary was Ginny. Alec was Harry. Isabelle was Clare’s version of Blaise (who back then was not officially male or female, and could therefore be interpreted by fandom either way). Valentine was a strange mixture of Lucius and Voldemort. And Jace, of course, was undeniably Draco.

Jace is so Draco, in fact, that it’s impossible to see him as his own character. The way Clare characterizes Jace is the exact same way she characterized her Draco. They share lines (the ones she didn’t steal from Buffy, of course), they share nervous tics, they share appearances, and they even share memories. The second I read the scene in which Jace tells Clary the story about the boy and the falcon, I felt an unpleasant jolt of recognition: that story is one Draco tells in one of the Draco Trilogy installments. I couldn’t remember which one. I couldn’t even remember who Draco told it to (Harry? Ginny? Hermione?). But I knew it was if not word for word taken from her fanfiction, it was very, very close.

Yikes. That’s a lot of similarities.

The same person I quoted about went on to say that the fanfiction was still much better than her published work, and that she’d rather re-read the fanfic than the non-fanfic.

Sherrilyn Kenyon and Dark Hunters

Almost immediately after The Mortal Instruments (the non-fanfic one) became popular, Sherrilyn Kenyon slapped it with a lawsuit for copying her urban fantasy series, Dark Hunters.

Kenyon fans attacked Claire fans, Cassie’s history was brought to light, and Cassie got to pull out her favorite argument “you hate me because I’m Jewish.” Which is interesting, because I’ve been working on this for two weeks, and I only just learned that she’s Jewish when I read about her accusing others of anti-Semitism.

Now as Cassie apologists will tell you, Kenyon did ultimately lose that suit, but it’s really, really starting to get repetitive over here.

I’ll borrow a quote from Ryan Givens, “If you meet an asshole in the morning, you met an asshole. If you meet assholes all day, you’re the asshole.” Or in this case, maybe you’re the plagiarist.

Common Questions

Has Cassie apologized for this?

She did occasionally

Has Cassie changed?

My opinion is no. She’s not.

Let’s see, as the “Queen of YA Literature” she has:

used Copy Right strikes to prevent people from calling out problematic passages in her books

sent her fans after critics

posted a hilariously ironic blog about cyber bullying

attacked her OWN FANS because they didn’t like the ending of a book

currently complains about people posting her real name (which is Judith Rumelt, in case you wanted to know) despite her own history of publishing people’s actual phone numbers online

Calls critics anti-Semetic while having this quote in her book

Claims that she was threatened when someone called her friend an “ignorant duck” 

Loves Token Minorities

Wrote a questionable almost rape

My Thoughts

I don’t like Cassie.

I really don’t.

And look, I’m not saying that Cassie is a narcissist, but here’s a fun little saying called The Narcissist’s Prayer:

That didn’t happen. And if it did, it wasn’t that bad. And if it was, that’s not a big deal. And if it is, that’s not my fault. And if it was, I didn’t mean it. And if I did… You deserved it.

Does any of that sound familiar, because it should. It’s basically Cassie’s text book responce of “avoid admitting fault until there’s too much proof, say I didn’t do it on purpose, blame someone else, claim to be the victim, find another person to accuse of drama.”

Now I’m going to again quote from ProblematicYA because I absolutely love their writing. In this quote, they’re talking about how all of Cassie’s books, even those set in different times or cities, follow the same pattern. Non-Shadowhunter meets Shadowhunter (who is basically Draco).

So what’s really my problem? My problem is the fact that Cassandra Clare is a marginally talented writer who has one story and one cast of characters up her sleeve, and yet somehow she’s sold millions and millions of books based on this. My problem is the fact that Cassandra Clare’s Mortal Instruments series was partially copied from her fanfiction trilogy, which copied a plethora of other authors, not even including J.K. Rowling, who provided her with the characters, premise, and setting for her beloved trilogy. My problem is the fact that Cassandra Clare is in the authorly equivalent of a time loop, and has come full circle. My problem is the fact that Cassandra Clare is, in essence, writing fanfiction of her own work, and it is getting published and she is getting paid bank for it, when other far more original and talented authors are getting absolutely nothing for their hard work. I may despise Stephenie Meyer and the world she’s created, but at least Twilight and its accompanying works are her own original product; at least she deserves to reap the benefits of the crazy fandom she’s inspired.

Look. I don’t believe in dredging up ancient history just to hurt people. Shit we did when we were teens shouldn’t be held against us as adults. People grow and change a lot from what they were as teens.

But bitch, you actually have to GROW AND CHANGE. And Cassie hasn’t.

Also, try actually apologizing for what you’ve done instead of silencing critics.

Sources and More Information

As always, I love, love, love fanlore and I linked to many of their articles throughout this post.

A user on the HobbyDrama subreddit made a great write up called The Cassandra Cla(i)re Saga.

ProblematicYA wrote several amazing articles on the subject:

Why I Have A Problem With Cassandra Clare and Why You Should Too

anti-bullying ya queen cassandra clare is a massive bully. water also wet.

They also have an entire tag dedicated to Cassie

Alli6 wrote Things you should Know

Cassandra Clare, Rape Culture, and the Oft-Forgotten Metaphor by The Book Lantern.

SnarkTheater also has pages of things tagged as Cassie Claire, including chapter by chapter break downs of the books.

source http://camryndaytona.com/2020/06/cassandra-clare?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=cassandra-clare

[fairymadnessyeah]

Birthday Boys

Chapter 2: The reunion

Warning: Angst, mentions of Blood, past abuse and street violence.

Chapter 2 of 4? (I honestly don’t know how long this shit might end up)

Read it on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/53109988?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_275346271

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The week had passed too fast and not fast enough. The three sibbling felt like they were going up on a roller coaster and when they reached the drop, they knew it could either go great or bad. 

Fuyumi, always the optimistic, was basically shaking with excitement since Saturday. She had watched every single video Tomura had uploaded ever and sent to their group chat a couple of videos of Touya appearing in the background. She also checked constantly on their instagram account. She was acting like a teenager with a new phone. 

Natsuo, on the other hand, was looking more scared as the days went by. At first, he was mad. Why hadn’t Touya came himself? Why did he have to send his roommate? Did he even want to come back? He stopped being mad after, surprisingly, a call with Shouto. Apearently, Fuyumi had voice her concerns to Shou about him and the little shit called him. Shouto just told him that if he didn’t want to go, he didn’t have to and him, being the loving and caring big brother that he was, told him to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. The conversation ended with Shouto asking him if he was really ready to lose Touya again.

After that, Natsou sucked up his pride and decided to copy Fuyumi’s actions and learn everything he could about “Dabi”. Unlike Fuyumi, he found a lot more than her. He found out he presented his new art every friday on the bar from the card and you could book an appointment with him; that he knew a make-up instagramer by the name of Toga-chan; and that he had made some graffities around town under an alias. 

His life had been pretty decent. And when he arrived at that conclusion, he knew his answer. 

No. He wasn’t ready to let him go again.

But what if Touya didn’t want to come back? What if, he didn’t want to be found?

The youngest sibbling was trying to hold it together. Unknown to his other sibblings, he had had a relationship with Touya. It was based on secrets, yeah. But it was their secret. It was a secret, that Touya hid him everytime he could. It was a secret, that Touya would tend to his wounds when Fuyumi and Mom couldn’t. It was a secret, that every night Touya would stay with him till he fell asleep. It was a secret, that everytime they were made to train together Touya would never hurt him even if it meant receiving father’s hate afterwards. It was a secret, that one morning, as he woke up, he saw Touya grab his thing and walk out the door and did nothing to stop him. 

When Fuyumi dropped him at UA, he felt like he could breath again. It was like being back on their father’s house. His relationship with Touya was secret from his father because he didn’t want to get hurt and it was secret from his sibblings because he didn’t want to hurt them. How would they react if they knew that he was the reason Touya left? (He was pretty sure if Touya hadn’t cared so much about him, his father would have left him alone) What would they think if they learnt that he just let him walk away? That he said nothing to stop him? That he didn’t cry for him to stay or even asked him why he was leaving?

He just recently started to spend time with his sibblings, he didn’t want to lose them, too.

On Friday, when Fuyumi came to pick him up. He couldn’t hold it anymore. He didn’t want to keep secrets from his sibblings. He wanted them to be a happy family. So he told Fuyumi on the car and then Natsuo on the apartment. 

Fuyumi took it well albeit sad, she told him she knew what Touya did for him and that she was happy he had happy memories to remember him by. Natsuo took it better, he reasured him that it wasn’t his fault Touya left, their dad was the problem and that he knew Touya visited him at night since he was look out for dad.

The next day, they were tense all the day. At eight, they were all showered and ready to go to the grill. They all got in the car and went in silence. The place looked like a ‘50′s dinner from western movies, and not many people were there. There were only a car and a motorbike parked outside, not including theirs.

Entering the place, they saw them on the third booth, Shigaraki and Touya were sitting together. He was there. He was really there. All tattooed and pierced and brused. Wearing a white t-shirt and black pants with a black jacket. And when he noticed them he chocked on what he was eating which made Tomura turn and see them. 

There was a sort of pause between them, as if that exact moment became trapped in time. They were realizing now that all this time there was this invisible leash tied around the three younger sibbling that prevented them from reaching their big brother, but now, it was broken, cut. It wasn’t there. There was still a sort of tension. One that screamed danger and worriness. 

“TOUYAAAA!!!!”

Fuyumi moved first. She threw herself at the older man and started full out crying and repeating his name. That snapped the other two out of their trance. Natsuo and Shoto followed Fuyumi and went to Touya´s other side, Shigaraki had moved to let them into the booth. Touya didn’t move, nor did he return the hug back.

With Fuyumi on his left, Shouto on his right and Natsuo sandwiching all of them together, the first thing they heard their brother say after 10 years of not seeing him and beliving he was dead was: “What the fuck are you doing here?”

They all let go of him and Fuyumi answered him. “Your roommate, Shigaraki contacted us...”

“What!?” Touya shouted at Shigaraki.

“Touya, It´s fine.” Natsuo said as he tried to calm him. “Dad is...”

“Shut up!” He screamed again looking at Natsuo for a moments to then turn back to his roomamate. “You called them!? Contacted them!?” Shigaraki nodded slowly while the other three only watched as their brother lost it. “And in what fucking moments did I ever showed any sign of wanting to see them again? IT’S BEEN TEN YEARS, TENKO. IF I WANTED TO SEE THEM AGAIN, I WOULD’VE DONE IT MYSELF!”

With that, he stood up and forcefully left the booth. He grabbed two helmets that were in the seats behind them and stormed out. Shigaraki followed him, calling his name. “Touya, WAIT!”

Fuyumi was crying, Natsuo too and Shouto looked through the window as his brother and Shigaraki screamed for a while until Touya left in the motorbike they saw on the parking lot. 

Shigaraki returned to a table with three crying sibblings. The girl was crying heavy tears, the young one rubbed a couple of drops before they had a chance to fall and the middle one was covering his eyes but you could notice the wet path of tears going through his face.

“Sorry” Shigaraki said. “I didn’t know he would react like that.”

Fuyumi took a deep breath and turned to Tomura. “It’s fine. Thanks to you, we know he is alive and...”

“Why did you contact us?” Shouto interrupted her and rudely asked the grey haired man. “He is obviously okay without us... so why call us?”

Shigaraki sat in the booth again and signed the waitress for the check. “Even if he wants to deny it, he does want you back in his life. A couple of years ago, your brother needed money to open up his tattoo shop and he asked a... very bad guy for a loan. He ended up in a gang and did a bunch of crimes for it. The guy is in jail now, but he is afraid that if he gets out and seaches for revenge, or if any other enemy he made wants to hurt him, you wil be in the middle of the crossfire.”

The waitress gave Tomura his check and after paying, they all went out of the dinner. Fuyumi, that noticed her brother had left Shigaraki stranded, offered to drive him home. After a little of convincing, Tomura accepted, and they all got in the car. 

Shouto, that was in the back with Tomura broke the silence after a while.

“How did you meet Touya?” He asked.

Shigaraki answered without looking at him, still staring out the window. “The same way we met all of our friends. We were all part of the gang. I was there first.”

“Who did you work for?” He asked again

Tomura looked at him for a moment and then went back to the window. Without blinking, he answered “One for all”

The car stopped abruptly at a red light, making a screching sound. Natsuo and Shouto were staring at him with their eyes wide while Fuyumi apologised and started moving again when the light changed to green.

One for all was the ruler of all the underground and black market of Japan. He had been for many years since the name One for all was a tittle passed down from one person to the other. He was the most dangerous man alive. You had to be desperate to seek him out and once you owed him something, you were in his net forever. And a couple of months back, the current holder was arrested. He took down almost all of down town Kamino with him, but he was lock down for good.

“Wha...How did you ended up with him?” Natsuo asked this time. His voice barely a whisper, as if afraid the man itself would be summoned by saying his name.

“Nothing. I was his heir.” They all gasped. “My grandmother came closer than anyone to bring him down. So, he killed my whole family as a message and took me to become the next One for all.”

“Shigaraki...”Fuyumi started to talk but he stopped her.

“It’s in the past now. I moved on. Touya helped me a lot with that. He showed me how to live and let me see how much I was being controlled by him. I still can’t belive he’s my boyfriend. For now” He whispered the last part. The sibbling didn’t know what happened when he was outside with Touya, what they said to each other, but by his tone, it was not good.

They arrived at Tomura’s home. Fuyumi thanked him again for what he did for them, and asked him if he could please take care of Touya. Shigaraki nodded and left the car. He noticed that once he came out of the vehicole, the light from their bedroom turned off. Touya could act as a hardass all he wanted, but on the inside he was a softie. He waved the Todoroki´s goodbye and watched as they drove away.

‘Well, that ended expectacularly’ He thought as he climbed the fire escape. He sent Kurogiri a text, telling him that they weren’t going to make it to the bar and that they would explain to the gang tomorrow.

As he stood in the hallway, he noticed the couch had a pillow and a thick blanket. He tried to open the door to the bedroom and found it locked. Sighting, he knocked on it but got no responce from inside.

“Are we really not gonna talk about this?” He asked as he leaned into the door. He didn’t get a responce again. “Fine.” 

He grabbed the pillow and the blanket and went to his filming room. He could understand not wanting to see him and vanishing him to the couch, but that thing was torture to sleep in without his boyfriend´s warm body there.

That night was a long one for both of them. Tomura trying to sleep with guilt and without his personal heater (A.K.A his boyfriend) and Dabi crying himself to sleep. Because right now, he felt like the guy that couldn’t do anything against his father to save his family, like the kid that ran away to save his skin and only his, like the teenager that spent his first night as a runaway sleeping in the train station’s bathroom. That night he felt like Touya again. 

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The three sibblings, after dropping Shigaraki, went to a drive-through nearby and then went home. They food was flavourless. Or at least it felt that way.

This Saturday, Natsuo went back to campus. He didn’t care about the time and Fuyumi didn’t make a fuss about it. She understood that he needed time. They all did. So while she cleaned, Natsuo took his things and left. Fuyumi only told him to text her when he got there.

Shouto went to his room and simply laid in his bed starring at his ceiling. He used to do this when he waited for Touya when he was a child. The moment Touya came throught his door, he used to belive everything was going to be okay, better. It was now a habbit of his. He remembers, the first night after Touya left, he waited all night for him.

He never came.

After what felt like an eternity, Shouto got up and went to the kitchen to... he didn’t know what for. But he needed to do something. Anything.

The kitchen wasn’t empty though. Fuyumi was sitting in the floor crying against the fridge while she holded a small muffin with a lit up candle. She was sobbing, tears falling heavily onto the floor and her clothes. It was a quiet cry. But the Todoroki family had long ago learnt that was the best way to cry in a house so cold and deathly quiet like theirs. Guess moving out of there didn’t exactly stopped it.

“Happy Birthday, Touya” Fuyumi said between sobs and blew out the candle.

Shouto enterred the kitchen and sat down next to his sister, pulling her into a hug. The two cried together and for the first time ever since they moved to the apartment, the two, brother and sister, felt like they were chocking.

They felt as if they weren’t in the apartment anymore. They were back in that house, where all family dinners were awkard and silent, where the walls had screams stucked on them, where blood and tears had stained the floor permanently.

The place where in the end, only Shouto and Fuyumi were left. No family, no happiness, no hope. Only them and the echoes of boots stomping on the tatami floor.

They were there crying, alone, scared. For that moment, they felt as if they were waiting for the inevitable. For Enji to appear through the door.