#simon's head tilt should be more towards us in that first shot but oh well too late

[mewkwota]

At an even smaller scale, I have even more Smash poses I redrew. Fitting because they're in very compact spaces, but challenging as I had to figure out how to do the perspective on those thighs.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,128 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, none really! A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Passing time in The Hilltop, Y/N, Daryl and the others make plans for when The Saviors arrive.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl and Jesus finished up their little secret carpentry project. All the Alexandrian refugees decided together not to say anything to Gregory about it, in case he really did think that selling you out to The Saviors would do anything for him.

Daryl and Jesus were sitting outside the root cellar, eating some lunch when the signal came from the gates. “SAVIORS!” the guards yelled.

“Shit,” Daryl growled, jumping up. “I gotta find Y/N,” he yelled back at Jesus as tore off toward the trailers. He burst in to the one you were sharing but it was empty. He ran next door and caught Maggie and Sasha following Enid out in a rush. “Hey—ya seen Y/N?” he asked desperately.

“I think she went over behind Barrington House,” Maggie called up. “Daryl, hurry—there’s no time. We’re going to the cellar!”

“Goddammit!” Daryl tore around the main building. The gates were already opening as he disappeared around the corner. He wound his way through the wagons and storage crates behind the main building and he saw you standing at the edge of the small graveyard, looking down at Glenn’s grave. “Son of a bitch,” Daryl panted. It was surprisingly hard to hear anything behind the large main building. You showed no sign of awareness that the Saviors had arrived or that the signal had been sounded. He crept up behind you and his hands landed on your hips, pulling you back against him. You let out a surprised squeak and spun to face him, a wide smile growing on your face at first until you saw his expression. “Saviors are here. C’mon. We gotta go. The tunnel.” He laced his fingers with yours and led the way to the escape tunnel Sasha had dug, lifting the hidden hatch and nodding for you to climb down first. He followed and closed the lid behind himself.

Your breathing echoed loudly in the damp, dark space and you made your way by feel with your hands, feeling loose dirt come off on your palm as you followed the wall. Daryl caught up behind you and one of his hands landed lightly on your waist. You could hear his ragged breathing loudly in the earth-deadened silence.

You emerged from another hidden hatch, covered with leaves and vegetation, in the woods outside the walls. You lifted it only an inch or so and glanced around, straining your hearing. Nothing. You pushed it open and climbed out. Daryl followed, softly shutting the hatch and kicking more leaves and twigs over it again to conceal it.

He unsheathed his knife and crept to a large tree at the edge of the woods. You followed suit and knelt against a big oak tree next to him, peeking out at the walls of The Hilltop. Daryl looked back at you and gave you a questioning look. You nodded, indicating you were okay.

“Shit,” he murmured, quickly leaving his tree and joining you at yours, gently grabbing your arms at your sides and pressing your back into the bark behind you, shielding you with his body, his face close to yours. “Fuckin’ guard at the corner,” he murmured in response to the questioning look you gave him.

You were both sweaty and out of breath, dirt sticking to you from the earthen tunnel, but you had made it out. You could feel Daryl’s chest expanding as he took in deep breaths of air, occasionally peeking out to see if the guard was still there. Despite the tense situation that brought you there, you were thinking you really didn’t mind having him pressed up against you like this. You felt safe and the intimacy was warming you like a shot of bourbon. Eventually he straightened up and heaved a sigh of relief. “Guard’s gone. But I think we’re gonna have to wait a while for these asshats to leave.” He looked down at you where you were still leaning with your back against the tree. “Ya alright?”

You nodded. “Ya. Are you?”

“Mhm. Fine.” He pulled back from you and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Thought I wasn’t gonna find ya in time. Scared the shit outta me.”

“Can’t hear anything back there,” you said. “I didn’t hear the signal at all. Thanks for getting me.”

Daryl nodded and grabbed your hand. “I told ya. I ain’t goin’ anywhere without ya. C’mon. Let’s move a bit farther out and wait.” You squeezed his hand in yours and let him lead you away from the Hilltop, deeper into the woods. Eventually you found a pile of brush and fallen logs and Daryl sank down on one, releasing your hand. You stood nearby, facing back toward Hilltop and straining your ears.

“Maggie? Sasha and Enid?” you asked softly, turning back to look at Daryl, who was chewing his thumbnail.

“They were heading to the cellar when I came looking for ya. Jesus and I finished it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, staring back in the direction you had come from. “Do you think he’s here?” you asked quietly.

“Nah. Just a routine pick-up. But I bet he went to Alexandria yesterday,” Daryl said.

You turned around and paced back over to him, taking a seat on the log beside him, chewing your bottom lip. “We need to find out if they’re alright. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Ya. We will.”

You waited there together almost an hour before creeping back toward the edge of the woods. The trucks were disappearing down the road and you sighed, pressing your palm against the rough bark of the oak you were hiding behind.

“C’mon,” Daryl said, tilting his head toward the hatch as he opened it again. “We’ll just make sure they’re really all gone, before we climb out.”

You followed him down, hunched over as you moved underground. Daryl peeked out of the hatch and he saw Jesus and Maggie in discussion down by the gates. “S’all clear,” he said, hoisting himself out. He turned around and helped you climb over the edge.

Both of you were now filthy, head to toe, from your two trips through the tunnel, but you were safe and undetected, which was what mattered most.

You followed Daryl over toward Jesus and Maggie, who both turned and looked relieved at the sight of you. “Oh, he found you. Thank God,” Maggie cooed.

Jesus smiled. “You both look like you took a few dust baths.”

Daryl brushed a hand down the front of his shirt and a cascade of soil floated off into the air. “Ya. Tunnel.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How’d it go?” he asked Jesus.

“The usual. I could tell Gregory was thinking about talking, but he didn’t have the guts. Simon is unstable in the best of times.”

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed. “Well, we don’t have to deal with them again for a bit now, right?” Jesus nodded. “Good. Ya hear anything else useful over that radio? About Alexandria?”

“Nothing. It’s been pretty quiet,” Jesus said.

“Alright.” Daryl glanced back at you over his shoulder and couldn’t help but crack a smirk. “Ya got dirt all over your face,” he said to you, eliciting smiles from Maggie and Jesus, too.

“You should see yourself,” you commented. You glanced down at your arms and clothes. “Right. I think at least a change of clothes is in order, though.”

“And ya need to eat,” Daryl added sharply. “Ya ain’t had anything today.” Daryl’s concern for you wasn’t lost on Maggie or Jesus and they both exchanged a covert look.

“Right… Catch you later,” you said to Maggie and Jesus. Daryl fell into stride beside you and he couldn’t help checking you out as you went up the stairs in front of him, his eyes taking in the flared curve of your hips. It sent a warm bloom from the center of his chest outward and he chewed his bottom lip.

You kicked off your boots just inside the door and sighed as you looked down at your filthy clothes.

“Worked good though,” Daryl said, referencing the tunnel. “Good to have a way to get out like that. Just in case,” he said.

You nodded, looking up at him. “Yeah.” There was a queer expression on your face and he felt suddenly nervous and had to gulp at the lump in his throat.

“What?” he asked, his heart hammering.

You just walked closer and studied his face before lifting one hand to clasp his cheek. “Nothing.” You traced your index finger lightly over the shadow of a bruise still under his eye, right on his cheekbone and your heart ached again for what he had gone through. “I’m gonna shower,” you said finally, breaking the tension and shifting the mood completely.

“I’ll go get ya some food for when you’re out.” He started to turn away and you gently grasped his wrist, a small smile on your lips.

“Hey. Thanks for getting me earlier,” you said.

“I told ya. I wasn’t gonna leave ya behind,” Daryl said. “Go on. Get cleaned up.”

You released your hold on him and nodded.

Daryl gulped and eyed you as you turned away to grab some clean clothes and headed into the bathroom. His heart still felt like it was beating so fast it might burst and he actually shook his head like he was in a daze. The slightest touch, the slightest look from you could send him reeling. The whole thing was so new, but not new at the same time. And his feelings for you were almost overwhelming. It was like he had been given permission to feel them since you had showed him you felt at least some semblance of the same way toward him.

You came back out, fresh from your shower, to see a plate with some fruit and bread on it sitting on the table. You grabbed an apple and glanced around, trying to locate the archer. The door to the trailer was open, and he was making some more bolts for his crossbow, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.

You came up behind him and stroked your fingers through his hair, laughing a little as you saw how much dirt was stuck there from your foray underground. He flinched at the unexpected touch at first, but you noticed that after a moment he leaned into it. “Shower’s free,” you said, sinking down beside him, apple in hand.

“Mmm,” he grunted, glancing over at you. His eyes flitted over your face before he ducked his head, a little bashful. You smiled at the action.

“Ya gonna get cleaned up?” you asked him. “You don’t have to. I don’t mind you dirty,” you said with a wink. Laughing at his expression as he tried to figure out how to respond to that. That was blatant flirting… a first, he thought.

“Ya gonna eat more than just that apple?” he retorted, giving you a pointed look.

You pursed your lips at him and quirked an eyebrow. “What, you think you’re the boss of me now or something?”

He climbed to his feet, staring down at you with narrowed eyes, a classic Daryl Dixon expression. “Somebody oughta try and take care of ya. Ya ain’t doin’ it right,” he said.

He disappeared back inside and you heard the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on shortly after. You ate the apple, savoring the crisp sweetness, and returned to grab a roll off the plate on the table. He had a point. You weren’t exactly taking the best care of yourself right now. You hadn’t had much of an appetite since you had left Alexandria on your mission to save Daryl. You ate slowly, sitting on the step again and you heard Daryl come out of the bathroom, accompanied by the smell of soap and shampoo.

His footsteps approached behind you and he glanced at the bread in your hand, giving you an approving nod. “Good,” he said.

You glanced up at him, taking in his wet hair and clean skin. “Good,” you said, wrinkling your nose at him a little in jest. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, which only made you laugh.

God, he loved that sound. You didn’t do it enough. He sank down on the top step beside you, his shoulder nudging yours as he sat down and you glanced over at him. But the smile on your face faded quickly and you sighed heavily.

“How are we gonna beat them?” you asked.

Daryl shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. I think you had it right. We don’t have the numbers or the firepower. We’re gonna have to be smart about it. Guerilla. Stealth. Death by a thousand cuts,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You glanced toward the walls surrounding Hilltop. “Is it nuts that I still miss being out there? Even now I think about going out just to find some walkers to kill.”

“Nah. Ain’t nuts,” he said, clasping his wrist in his other hand, resting his arms up on his knees. “You and me—we ain’t meant to be cooped up behind walls.”

“Or in a cell,” you said quietly, turning to study his face again. You saw a flash of a shadow in his eyes before they turned to meet yours. He nudged his nose up once and one corner of your mouth flicked upward, effortlessly understanding what he was asking. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hand came up to rest on the side of your neck. You pulled back and both were wearing small smiles, starry-eyed. “I could get used to this,” you breathed, causing Daryl to shake his head a little shyly and turn away from you.

Suddenly, Jesus came running around the corner of his trailer. Daryl was on his feet immediately. “What?”

But you quickly realized there was nothing to be worried about as Jesus broke into a wide smile. “Come and see,” he said.

Daryl reached out for your hand and you laced your fingers with his, running beside him and Jesus at a brisk pace, headed for the gate. When you got around the final building blocking your view both of you froze like your feet were suddenly rooted into the ground.

Your fingers till intertwined with Daryl’s, you reached over to rest your other hand on his arm. “Oh my God,” you said, stunned. The Alexandrians were walking through the gate. Rick, Michonne, Rosita, and more. Daryl squeezed your hand and gave you a stunned look. He tugged you forward.

“C’mon.”

Everyone at the gate was hugging each other, rejoicing at seeing one another again. Maggie was explaining that she was alright and that the baby was fine. Jesus just stood nearby waiting, a huge grin on his face, waiting for everyone to notice you and Daryl coming out into the open.

Rick was the first one to spot him of course. His expression was disbelief and tears immediately welled up in his eyes. You dropped Daryl’s hand as he paced closer. You could tell from the tension in Daryl’s shoulders that he was battling with emotion too. Rick reached a hand out and grabbed Daryl’s shoulder, taking him in, having to look away for a moment to steel himself, before he grasped Daryl and pulled him against him, his hand on the back of Daryl’s neck. Daryl ducked his head and hugged Rick back. “Brother. My brother,” Rick sighed. “Thank God.” There wasn’t a dry eye around, and you hastily wiped the tear streaks from your own cheeks, your chest heaving a little.

When they broke apart, Rick clasped Daryl’s shoulder again and stared at him, bewildered and overcome with relief. “They said—they said you escaped. I—” That’s when he caught sight of you behind Daryl, standing back, watching the reunion.

Rick’s eyes widened and more tears cascaded out of his already red eyes. His hand still on Daryl’s shoulder, he looked back to him for an explanation.

Daryl sniffed and nodded. “She got me out. It was all her,” he said, his voice a little strained from the constriction of emotion in his throat.

Rick forced in a breath and clenched his teeth, trying to hold it together. He gave Daryl’s shoulder a pat and then paced over to you. You stood there with your hand clasped on your other arm, tasting the salt from your tears which were pouring out as fast as you could wipe them away. Rick stopped just in front of you and glanced down at his boots, one thumb looped into his pocket, trying to clear his throat enough to talk.

He nodded and met your eyes. All you could do was stand there and look back at him. He grabbed you and pulled you into him, pressing you tightly against his shoulder, just the way he had Daryl. “Thank you. Thank you,” he was whispering to you. “You got him out. And you’re safe. Thank you.” He said it over and over. “Thank God.”

You wiped your face again as you broke apart. Rick shaking his head in disbelief, glancing back over at Daryl who was watching the scene with a soft expression, fondness, that wasn’t lost on Rick.

“I want to know… everything,” Rick said. “If and when you’re both ready.”

Daryl paced over and stood beside you. He wanted more than anything in that moment to just wrap you up and wipe away your tears, but it was all so new. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for the whole group to know yet, and he hardly even knew what it meant. You glanced over at Daryl and gave him a teary smile.

“We’ve got something for you,” you said softly, turning back to Rick. You withdrew Rick’s gun from your waistband and held it out to him.

He looked down at it like he was seeing a ghost, chewing his bottom lip and cocking his head a little, incredulous at how you possibly could have come by it again, but he anxiously accepted it. “Thank you.” He sighed and nodded, reaching out to put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder one more time. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

[fruitcoops]

Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better. 

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood. 

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more. 

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment. 

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen. 

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them. 

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.” 

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?” 

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius.  I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.” 

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!” 

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.” 

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus. 

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.” 

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.” 

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.” 

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending. 

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.” 

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

[alecmagnuslwb]

Twelve Rounds

Read on AO3

“You know on the scale of the Qresh heist, your best plan, and the Leith escape route, your worst fucking plan, this is somewhere way closer to Leith,” Magnus whisper yells in the small space between them.

They’re trapped in a closet, oh the fucking irony, with a couple dozen guards just on the outside, guards that the guy they’re supposed to be picking up and taking back to the Rack wasn’t supposed to have.

Alec just rolls his eyes wiggling a hand into the miniscule space between them to undo the latch on his thigh holster. The fact that Magnus is blaming this on him, when the plans only gone to hells because Magnus’ intel was bad. It’s not because of Alec’s plan, Alec’s plan was simple and efficient dammit.

“Easy in, easy out,” Magnus had said tossing the tablet across the table at Alec nearly knocking over the very expensive, treat himself glass of hawk Alec had ordered. “The guy’s not smart and has never so much as bought a weapon to protect himself, the trip alone to get him won’t be longer than twenty minutes. We pick him up, we bring him back, warrant done and we make an easy 500 joy.”

Alec had scrolled through the warrant, reading it with a doubting eye.

“This guy has had six warrants on him go untouched, you sure it’s that easy?” Alec had asked and Magnus had just waved it away the rings on his fingers glittering in the low light of the bar.

“I already sent out some feelers, the intel is good,” Magnus said with a smile. “He’s just not wanted for anything big so no one’s ever bothered going through with the pick-up, now the price has gotten a little higher and I think we should add a little padding to our current bank balance.”

Alec had sighed dropping the tablet down. “The ship still needs new nav panels, they’re about to fall off, babe.”

“Exactly and 500 joy will fix those right up and we’ll still have some leftover to get a room for the night, a fancy one at the Westerley Inn instead of above the bar, maybe for a few nights,” Magnus said leaning across the table getting incrementally closer and closer to Alec. “Think about it, Alexander. No sleeping in the cold ship, nice fresh warm sheets, no running out of hot water in five minutes.”

Alec had wanted to say no, fixing the nav panels before taking on another warrant, easy or not, should have been the priority. But after being Killjoy’s together for seven years, lovers for six and husbands for two he’d always found himself saying yes to every single request, idea and silly whim Magnus had ever had.

Alec let out a long-suffering breath, “Fine, let’s do it.”

Magnus had beamed leaning across the table to kiss him once before accepting the warrant and running off to the ship to get things ready. Alec had smiled, shaking his head in amusement at his husband.

Now he wishes he had a better resolve to just say no.

“I’m not the one who got bad intel,” Alec whisper yells back. “If your intel had been good my plan would have worked.”

Magnus scoffs attempting to cross his arms in annoyance but realizes at the last minute there isn’t enough room to do so. He settles for poking Alec in the side once instead.

“Really?” Alec whispers looking incredulously at Magnus. Magnus just shrugs huffing in annoyance.

“How was I supposed to know the intel was bad,” he argues. “It was from a trusted source.”

“Jace is not a trusted source, if you had told me it was Jace of all people I never would have even agreed to take the warrant in the first place,” Alec whisper shouts back. He feels ridiculous whisper fighting with his husband in a poorly lit linen closet. They should be playfully bantering to the annoyance of their catch with a completed warrant in their hands right now.

“He’s your brother,” Magnus hisses back.

“Exactly and I know just how stupid he is,” Alec replies attempting to wave his hands around as he speaks angrily the way he likes to. He gives up after a second realizing there’s just not enough space to do that. “He fights, he’s a great shot, but his intel is garbage because he never thinks ahead. Simon is who you get the intel from.”

Magnus sighs and Alec can tell from the look on his face he knows Alec’s right.

“I have half the mind to just slip out of here and call it all off n-” Alec starts, but Magnus lifts a hand slapping it over Alec’s mouth silencing him. Through the closet doors Alec hears the slow purposeful footsteps of at least six people maybe closer to eight walking outside.

Magnus drops his hand but not until the footsteps have disappeared.

“Good news I think they’ve given up searching for us in the house,” he whispers biting his glossy bottom lip in thought.

“Bad news there are two dozen of them and there’s two of us,” Alec replies. “Not to mention the guy we’re supposed to be taking with us.” He tacks on suddenly remembering the whole point of this at the last moment.

“We’ve faced worse odds and lived to drink about it,” Magnus says with a smile. Alec’s face doesn’t budge determined to hold onto his stony annoyance.

Magnus sighs tilting his head and slipping his arms around Alec’s waist. “I’m sorry my intel was bad and that your brother is stupid,” he says pouting in that frustratingly fake, but frustratingly sexy way that Alec never can quite resist. “And also that you’re plan sucked.”

Alec huffs out a breath unable to fight the smile creeping at the corner of his lips.

“You fully loaded?” Alec asks tapping at the side of Magnus’ thigh holster.

“For you?” he says shifting his hips up against Alec’s. “Always.”

“Magnus, be serious,” Alec says not able to resist shifting is own hips back in retaliation.

Magnus groans then his face goes fully solemn. “I’m always serious about you and my load.”

Alec only barely stops the laugh he lets out from being too loud. He is married to a ridiculous, brilliant, beautiful man.

“Twelve rounds a piece, that’s one shot per guard for both of us. And then the hopes that the idiot we need to catch doesn’t count them or doesn’t know how many are in a sidearm and buys it when we threaten to shoot him too,” Alec says pointedly shifting a bit to the side so their hips are no longer pressed together, trying to ignore the thoughts Magnus’ completely unsubtle innuendos put inside his head.

“Don’t miss,” Magnus says with a wicked smirk unholstering his weapon and bringing it up to the ready. Alec does the same with a matching smirk of his own.

“For you?” he says winking once before reaching his hand above Magnus to push open the closet door. “I never do.”

Magnus chuckles delighted and uncaring if the guards hear them as Alec shoves open the door. Magnus spins gracefully his electric blue ammunition flying down the hall instantly hitting through the wrist of the first reacting guard. Alec moves behind him the two of them working in perfect tandem like they always do bobbing and weaving as they should around and over one another disarming the guards one by one hitting them in just the right spots to take them down, but keep them alive.

They’re not here on a kill warrant and even if they were they’re not fans of taking out more than the target anyways. They’re only getting paid for them in the end.

Alec ducks behind a near wall Magnus covering him as he heads towards the door of the house already wide open the hot Westerley desert air blowing inside.

“Shit,” he says harshly just before catching sight of one of the last guards hovering outside of the door. Putrid yellow ammunition makes its way around the corner narrowly missing him. Alec ducks behind a shitty looking old couch that reminds him annoyingly of the chair he never saw his father get up from as a child.

Magnus comes sliding in next to him a grin on his face. “Got mine,” he says popping his head up once over the edge of the chair. Another round of ammo whizzes past him, actually grazing the stark neon pink patch of hair at the front of his head.

“Well he’s almost out of ammo, or he’s a terrible shot,” Magnus says ducking back down quickly.

“We’re also almost out of ammo, I’ve got one round for this one guy,” Alec says. He takes a deep collecting breath. He dips his head around the corner of the chair catching sight of the guard in the reflection from the window. The guard doesn’t take a shot despite Alec’s vulnerable position which tells him he’s definitely down to his last round as well.

He starts to make the move to take his final shot changing course at the last second.

“Switch me,” Alec says to Magnus holding out his gun. Magnus doesn’t question him taking the weapon and unholstering his own empty one and placing it in Alec’s hand.

“Shoot high and cover me,” he says not bothering with a countdown knowing Magnus will know exactly when to take his shot. He moves from his safe spot behind the chair immediately staying low.

The guard shifts just slightly from his perfectly shielded position taking his final shot at Alec just a shy too wide. Magnus takes that as his queue just as Alec’s about to reach the doorway shooting once high into the wall roughly right above the guard’s head startling him into a crouch.

When he stands to his full height Alec’s right in front of him waiting with a big smile.

“Hi,” he says with a large grin raising the base of his gun and smacking it into the center of the guy’s forehead hard just once knocking him fully unconscious.

Magnus sidles up behind him standing up on his toes just a bit to look over his shoulder at the unconscious man.

“Technically you missed,” Alec says turning to look at him over his shoulder. Magnus chuckles.

“You told me to, I was just being a good husband and listening,” he says holstering the empty weapon. “We should go find the warrant.”

Alec nods pointing over to a wooden barrel tilted up against the side of the house. Magnus gives him a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me look’ before walking over to the barrel kicking it once dislodging the lid as it goes down.

And out comes tumbling the mark with a high-pitched screech.

“No tracks?” Magnus asks gesturing to the clear sand before them guessing that’s how Alec knew he was in the barrel.

Alec shakes his head. “This one,” Alec explains pointing to the unconscious guard at his feet. “Shot his eyes over to that barrel right before I knocked him out cold, so either he really loves pickles or..”

“You should have hired better security,” Magnus says lifting the man up from the ground cuffing his hands together behind his back.

“Raj Laghari you are being taken into custody for six active level three warrants against you ranging from petty theft to extortion, you’ll be taken to the Rack where you will await further charges, trial or imprisonment as seen fit,” Magnus rattles off pushing the guy along in front of him.

Raj starts crying and Alec just rolls his eyes. This guy is an idiot, that much intel was right. They walk quietly back to their ship locking Raj up in the cargo hold before prepping the wavering nav to take them back to the Rack.

“I can’t believe you were going to try and call it off you know how it goes,” Magnus says tossing himself into the chair at the head of the ship. “The warrant is all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alec says casually, Magnus knows he’s loyal to the code even when he’s frustrated. One of these days a quick and easy job is going to be just that.

Alec slips into Magnus’ lap uncaring that he’s taller and that this chair is far too small to fit both of them comfortably.

“Fuck the nav system, we’re staying a full week at the Inn,” he says tiredly pressing a light kiss to Magnus’ temple.

“Hells yes,” Magnus says in glee kicking the nav switch with his foot before pulling Alec in for a proper kiss.

[rk1kheadcanons]

smol hc: Being the only RK models, CyberLife used some of Markus's base code in Connor's program. Emotions & empathy for social integration, and also some caretaking protocols in case emergency repairs/first aid are needed on the job (IE reactivating the Traci at the Eden Club, or diagnosing & "treating" Hank's ethylic coma LOL). I love the idea of Con getting to take care of Markus for once if he gets injured doing Rebel Leader Things™

🥺 Anon. I love this HC so much. Connor having some caretaker protocols is...yes. Absolutely. The jury is out and they find the defendant correct.

___

When Markus limped into his office, practically hopping on one foot every other step, all he wanted to do was bulldoze through his paperwork so he could go home and forget today ever happened. He’d taken a pretty hard hit earlier when a counter protester at their rally thought it was just a capital idea to hurl a brick into the crowd. Much more surprising than the sudden brick to the knee, though, was the (almost terrifying in it’s rapidness) reaction from the crowd. The guy was immediately apprehended and cursed out by human supporters and androids alike. It was wild. His bodyguards barely had to do any work. Markus swore he heard a human yell that thirium shots were on them after this, amidst a chorus of responding cheers. Nothing brings people together like a communal ass whoopin’? Apparently??

God he really hoped that human didn’t drink any thirium. Markus still had nightmares about Leo accidentally mixing up his blue raspberry jello shot with his drink, nevermind the fact that thirium consumables smelled like laundry detergent and poison as purposeful deterrents.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to go see the technician?” said Simon who, as his designated babysitter while North and Josh handled the fallout of the rally, followed into his office after him. 

“Naaahh,” Markus drawled, waving the hand that was grasping a pen as if he could wave away the problem altogether. Not for the first time he wished the government would catch up with the rest of the world and just go paperless. Reading over and signing these tedious documents would be a lot less painful to do if they would just let him download it into his mind like a sensible person would. “I barely feel it, plus my Regenerative Program has already kicked in. By the time I get to the med bay it’ll probably be all fixed.”

“Uh huh,” Simon unconvinced at him. “How long till you’re repaired.”

Markus pulled up the damage report in his HUD. “About six…”  he stared at the readings for a moment longer and, much to Simon’s chagrin, went back to doing his paperwork.

“...six what?”

“Bahhh,” Markus waved his hand again unhelpfully. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to make this sound better. Hopefully, his innate charm would cover for his trash convincing. “Ya know…”

“No. I do not know. What is it? Six minutes?”

Markus grunted.

“Hours!?”

Markus slumped lower in his chair. “Mmmhumph.”

“....Markus,” Simon started in a low warning voice. “If it’s days so help me I’m going to take out your other knee - ”

The door slammed open, startling Simon out of his threat, which was definitely about to escalate to more than Markus’ other knee once he found out it was six weeks. 

“Connor!”

“Good morning Simon,” Connor greeted briskly, expression stormy as he made a beeline for Markus like the man possesses on a mission that he usually was. He was swinging a rather large, rather ominous looking tool box with a red medical cross painted on it. Markus didn’t even stop doing his paperwork. He knew the drill by now. “I heard about what happened and came as fast as I could.”

“Wow, the news has only been out for an hou - wait. Weren’t you in Ohio?”

“Yes. I would have been here sooner but traffic was heavier than usual and the family driving the Escalade was surprisingly insistent on going the speed limit. A majority of police officers won't cite drivers for going between 1-5 miles per hour over,” Connor rolled his eyes and scoffed, like he didn’t follow some laws down to the letter while blatantly disregarding others at any given time. 

“Wha - did you hitchhike all the way here!?”

“Oh no of course not! There is a 46% chance of violent or criminal conduct committed against people who hitchhike.”

“Then how - ”

“I was sitting on top of the aforementioned Escalade.”

Markus gave him his best ‘why are you like this’ stare while Simon gaped in perplexion. “You didn’t need to car surf just to come all the way down here, hon.”

“After hearing about the state you were in, with all my love in the world I violently disagree.”

Markus sighed like a man whose knee wasn’t sparking and twitching at this very moment. And...hm. Maybe it did ache. A teeny bit. Whatever. He was still of the opinion that rubbing some dirt on it and a little stretching was enough to get him through the rest of the day.

“Well, maybe you can help me convince him to go to the technician,” said Simon.

“No need.” Without preamble, Connor plopped the heavy med(?) box on the floor and gently lifted Markus’ leg, hiking up his pants up to the thigh. As he examined it, intense as any jeweler examining a rare diamond, he hooked the back of a nearby stool with his foot and pulled it over, resting the leg on it. Markus neither struggled nor visually reacted; just kept stringently doing his paperwork like nothing was going on.

When Connor pulled out a collapsible creeper seat and rolled under Markus’ leg as if he were a mechanic working on a car, Simon went from passive observer to concernedly going around the desk to see what all the RK800 was doing.

“H-hey wait a second! Connor - it’s a pretty serious wound, maybe we should let the professionals handle it!”

Connor rolled slightly from under Markus with a large drill in his hand and an unimpressed look on his face. Surprisingly, Simon was not reassured by this in the slightest. “I assure you Simon that I am fully equipped with the latest caretaking protocols now could you please pass me that monkey wrench.”

“What seriously- UHH! I mean...” Realizing how insulting that sounded, Simon hurried to hand Connor the tool, clearing his throat. “I didn’t realize you had such uh...versatile programing.”

“It’s the same base code used in mine, actually,” Markus added, using his free hand to pat Connor’s soothingly when he heard him grumbling things like “I can do more than kill things” and “No one has been irreparably maimed in my Knitting Circle”. Damn right honey, Markus thought, Greta and Patrica have had nothing but nice things to say about you’re wool socks.

“Oh riiiiiight. You two are from the same model line, I…” Markus could practically Jedi Sense Simon about to say ‘I forget that sometimes’, so he looked up at the PL600 and shook his head firmly with glaring eyes. Simon, sheepish, held up his hands placatingly and held his tongue.

“The code...has been streamlined to cater more towards field and emergency repairs,” Connor admitted reluctantly, but then quickly added, “but combined with my own personal research outside of my programming, it is no less effective.”

Eager to keep his foot out of his mouth, Simon merely nodded in agreement. He couldn’t, however, keep the growing alarm showing from his face as Connor pulled more and more absurd tools out of his box (the electric saw was particularly disconcerting), and started contorting around Markus so that he wasn’t interfering with his work in ways that at first, seemed normal, but were steadily becoming more on par with a cirque du soleil act. That alarm changed into bewilderment when he tilted Markus’ chair back, put a car jack under his desk so that it tilted forward at the perfect writing level, put a pillow behind his head and a fizzy thirium drink (complete with a fun crazy straw) in his mouth. His standard office setup now suddenly a mini spa. 

When Connor started working a polisher to his knee Markus practically melted back into the chair. Oh that sneaky bastard. He knew Markus wouldn’t be able to get anything done by administering the android equivalent of a deep tissue massage. 

Bewilderment now firmly settled on amusement, and thoroughly reassured that his friend/boss was in good hands, Simon started to take his leave. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it Connor. If you need back up to make sure this guy takes it easy we’re all on stand by.”

Connor nodded. “I will escort him home for further recuperation as soon as I have finalized his repairs.”

Markus, eyes closed as he happily sipped at his Particle-Colada, grunted in response to Simon’s farewell. He was a little annoyed that everyone was treating him like a toddler over his small injury, and a little more annoyed that Simon had felt the need to hover around Connor, as if he were bracing for the RK800 to do something violent, before trusting his good intentions. Granted, Markus (begrudgingly) could admit that Connor’s methods certainly weren’t...standard caretaker protocols, and that his bedside manner was well...much like the android himself; aggressive, confusing, and, most importantly, well-meaning.

“��Can’t go home,” Markus murmured around his straw, very convincingly and not at all like he was about to ascend to a higher plane. “Still got work to do.”

“Hmm. Do you now?” With a fond, humoring, smile, Connor cranked up the power on the polisher. Markus swore his soul was straight vibin’.

Yea, actually. Maybe work could wait till tomorrow.

[wylanvnneck]

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Snowbaz but make it in the Shadowhunter universe. Baz is the head of the Watford vampire clan and Simon is a Nephilim with an assignment to attend to. Short one shot.

On AO3 | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Written for the Carry on Countdown 2020 hosted by @carryon-countdown​, for the Day 10 (Dec. 4th) prompt; 'Crossover’

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“Look, I don’t give a damn over what the Accords say, I see no reason as to why I should care about what you Nephilim think.” His eyes are pitch black and depthless as he leers, a fanged tooth peeking out from between his blood red lips. His skin is pale, like candle wax and the light of the full moon that’s just starting to shine through the window behind him seems to almost travel through his very being. A vampire, through and through.

Simon was starting to lose his patience with this creature of the night dressed in his impeccable floral print suit, scowling at him.

“And I, don’t really care about what you have to say. I understand that it’s the full moon and a time of revelry for your people, sir, but as you know, for the safety of the Mundanes of Watford I’m afraid I will have to be present at this function of yours to make sure that things...stay in check.” he finally pauses to take a breath and meets his adversary’s glare with one of his own. “Believe me when I say that I’m not particularly looking forward to it either.”

The vampire tilts his head to the side and gazes at him with a look of speculation and Simon tries hard not to flush at being studied so intently. He manages to keep his poker face on though, unrelenting and unwilling to give up.

Finally, after what seems like hours the vampire grins. It’s a slow grin, an empty one. One which spoke of hostility not mirth. It sets Simon on edge.

“Alright Shadow boy, I surrender. I suppose we’ll just have to put up with your oh-so-angelic presence at tonight’s party.”

Before Simon can inwardly heave a sigh of relief at this pronouncement despite the included insult, the dark haired man’s face suddenly appears two inches away from his own. Coal eyes framed by dark lashes are all he can see. He had moved swiftly, so swiftly that even Simon’s honed Shadowhunter skills did not pick up on the movement. The thought rankles him.

He grins that grin again. His long hair is brushing against his jaw and his scent is tangy and slightly metallic, with an overlying hint of a perfume that smells like expense. 

“But don’t blame me if our revel isn’t quite what you’re used to.”

Those eyes are surprisingly captivating. He’d been wrong, they were not depthless, in fact they seemed to go on for miles and miles, a window into some unknown realm.

In the name of Raziel, was he really ruminating over a hostile vampire’s eyes when he was being not so subtly threatened by said vampire?

“Don’t worry sir. I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever you’ve got.” He injects as much thinly veiled scorn into that statement as he possibly can.

This time when the vampire’s smile widens there actually seems to be a hint of humour behind it. Before Simon can see more of it though, he pulls back, seating himself back again behind his dark mahogany desk as if he’d never left.

“I wonder if you can.” 

“Yes, well, we shall see. Until midnight then.” Gathering what remained of his dignity Simon begins to make his exit from the Head vampire’s study

“Oh and, Shadow Boy?” 

He’s tempted to keep walking in pretend ignorance, to show his annoyance at that moniker, but he manages to resist.

The moonlight is starting to grow stronger as it shines through the metal barred window, glowing behind the vampire in an effect that is both intriguing and terrifying. Much like this man himself.

He clears his throat, “Yes?”

“When you arrive, don’t forget to mention my name at the gate, else you might be mistaken for a mundane sacrificial lamb.”

Simon raises a copper brow. “Very well, Mr. Basilton Pitch.” It’s the first time he’s referred to him by his name, even in his errant thoughts. The idea of this person having a name made him seem so much more real and, for whatever reason, that scared Simon.

The fangs make a reappearance as his lips curve upwards. “Until tonight, then.”

* * *

The room is lit by a generous array of lit candles in their elaborate metal sconces that line the stone wall. Crystal chandeliers draped with red banners hand from the ceiling, the candle lights reflecting off of the shiny material. 

The atmosphere is loud and so is the music being played on a piano by some unseen pianist and it's just like being in an upscale and elegant mundane soiree, except for the fact that the inhabitants of this room were all vampires.

Vampires eyeing him with looks of volatile hatred that make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight. His Shadowhunter instincts are on full alert in this room full of predators and his body is tense.

He chooses a position by the wall, next to a hanging tapestry of a...mundane group of singers? Simon wasn’t too well versed in mundane culture, having been raised as a Shadowhunter by an institute head after his parent’s tragic deaths when he was just a baby, but he was pretty sure that the tapestry was an elaborate depiction of a famous band called, King? Or was it Queen? Yes, Queen, it must have been that.

His brain is about to explode at the strangeness of this whole scenario. He’s regretting ever having said yes to taking on this assignment, especially whilst his Parabatai was off visiting her family, so he was completely alone. But no, he was Nephilim and his job was to keep the peace and that was what he would do.

He stands up straighter and is just considering moving inconspicuously towards the food table where mouth watering dishes appear to have been laid out along with glasses of animal blood, for the vampires who were old and experienced enough to enjoy mortal food, when from the corner of his eyes he clocks the sight of someone walking towards him.

Immediately he whirls around in a defensive stance, prepared to engage in battle with a violent blood sucker and instead he is met with the sight of an amused Basilton Pitch in an even more elaborate and floral suit than the last one. It seemed ridiculous that he could pull it off but he definitely did. 

“Well, I see you Shadowhunters like to relax when at a party.”

“We’re Shadowhunters. The word ‘relax’ is not in our vocabulary.”

Pitch snorts. “I bet it’s more that the word ‘relax’ is not present within the sacred laws of the Clave.”

His voice is tinged with sarcasm and Simon is immediately on the offense.

“At least we’re civilised enough to have laws, rather than running free and rampant, harming innocent Mundanes.”

“You Nephilim, always thinking that you are somehow above us. Better than us. That it’s alright to generalise the Downworlders. Look around you, these people, they’re intellectuals, they've had years to gain knowledge and culture, more civilised than some of your own.”

“And yet, they could not be trusted to conduct themselves at a party.”

“Only because the Clave refuses to trust in us. There’s only so much time before you start becoming someone that others think of you as.”

Simon tries to think of a sharp and cutting response, but he finds his brain mulling over the Vampire’s intense words. Basilton’s eyes seem to almost be imploring him, asking him for understanding.

 It was true, despite all the things whispered about the vampires, in all his years as a Shadowhunter he’d never actually come across a case of vampire’s slaughtering innocents mercilessly excepting perhaps a rogue vampire or two, newly turned and unused to their strange instincts.

There’s an uncertain pause before Pitch seems to reel himself back in, back into the polished facade of the vampire who didn’t give a damn about what people thought.

With a distinct change of tone and subject he says “Have a drink; what’s your poison?”

Simon gives him a sceptical look. A look meant to indicate his thoughts, no I will not have a drink...why? Because I am on duty. Also because I strongly suspect that the special on the drinks menu for tonight is Blood and I tend to only drink that on the First of November at precisely 11.24 pm, so thank you but no thank you Mr. Vampire.

Mr. Vampire lets out a low chuckle, almost as if he could hear Simon’s thoughts. “Bad choice of words, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.”

“Very well then. Enjoy the revel.” He grabs a cocktail glass filled with deep crimson blood from a passing waiter’s tray as he leaves to go and mingle with his guests, before turning back and adding. “Oh and Simon?”

Before Simon has time to wonder just how he knew his name he continues. “Call me Baz from now on. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you around.”

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Hey, so on the off chance that you’ve made it up to here and you think you might be interested in reading more about this Crossover universe with Snowbaz, let me know and I might actually make it a multi-chap. 👀

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 83

First, and most importantly: Happy Transgender Day of Visibility! To anyone who was given the wrong gender at birth, I see you and you are safe here.

If you don’t read further because of that? Well.... I don’t want you reading my stuff. The Ark is welcoming and loving. So.

If you are still with me: I actually had to start a second google doc for the story, just to continue with this chapter.... It’s mind blowing that I’ve gotten so far.  With everything going on in the world at the moment, this story has been a great escape and something worth carving out time for.

THAT SAID... Please don’t hesitate to send me asks, messages, or submissions.  I love hearing new ideas, or having the chance to talk about the things that just don’t make it on the page. Even if your ask/message/submission isn’t story related, shoot it on over.

Thanks for this chapter goes out to a whole host of people: @satan-parisienne, @baelpenrose, @zommbiebro, and @charlylimph-blog (I don’t care how often this site unfollows me from you, I will chase you down!). I genuinely don’t think I could have created so much, so consistently, without all of you.

Charly and I chose to walk to Xiomara’s office rather than take a transport.  Even though I was a bit shaken by what happened with Jokull, the exercise gave us both an opportunity to burn off nervous energy.  By the time we arrived, both of us were calmer and had our thoughts together.

Once access was granted, the door slid aside to reveal not just Xiomara, but Tyche.  I wasn’t sure if Xiomara wanted her to hear what happened, given how much stress my fellow Councillor placed on secrecy for her operation. “I need to report an incident involving Jokull Bjornson.”

My glance at my sister was met with a scoff. “Do you really think I believe you won’t tell her what happened?” Xiomara stared me down like I was an idiot.  “First things first: are either of you ladies injured?”

I shook my head carefully, while Charly grinned sheepishly. “See, here’s the thing - “

“Charly Harper, why is there blood in your mouth?” Xio’s eyes darkened as she leaned forward intently.

A hand flew up to cover the younger woman’s mouth as her eyes got wide. “Oops…” She started fidgeting with the strings on her sweatshirt. “We were minding our own business, I swear, just walking along, and - he’s so rude!  Obviously he could see Sophia wasn’t paying attention, so he stood in front of her, because he’s rude.” She started gesturing frenetically, like she was reenacting the events.  “I pulled her out of the way so we could just go on minding our own business, like we were, but he kept stepping in front of her, and then he kind of sideways called her stupid and refused to use her title like the sexist pig I bet he is, and then he, I dunno, hit on me? It was gross.” I nodded and shrugged, making her wince.  “But anyway, Sophia tried to stop him and then he was so mean and all standing over her, and I thought he was going to hit her so I shoved her out of the way, and I was right, because he hit me instead, and I may have.. I mean, I did obviously - “ she gestured at her mouth “ - but I only remember his clavicle, not his arm, and - “

“For the love of life, please take a breath,” Xiomara interrupted, throwing her hands in the air.  “What did you do?”

Before she could respond, I cut to the chase. “She bit the shit out of him. Twice.” I ignored Tyche’s snort and turned to Charly. “I thought he hit you after you bit him?”

“Well yeah, then too, but he hit me the first time trying to punch you.”

“I didn’t see that part,” I murmured.

“Duh. You were on the ground, silly.”

The sound of a cleared throat brought us back to the task at hand. “So, you were approached by a suspected cult leader, who seems to have instigated an altercation, and Miss Harper’s first reaction was to bite him?”

“No, I told you, I pushed Sophia out of the way first.”

There was the slightest upward twitch in Xiomara’s mouth. “And you say you were provoked?”

“Yes! He tried to hit Sophia, and hit me instead! I was protecting her.”

“She’s capable of defending herself.”

“And? You wouldn’t ask Tyche these questions.”  Charly stared Xiomara down, frowning.

I had no idea what was going on here.  We came to report something that might be relevant to the operation to infiltrate the cult… Why did it seem like it was turning into Charly being grilled?

The silent tension in the room drew out agonizingly before something broke.  I jumped with a dignified squeak when Xiomara threw her head back and laughed.  “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I just… the mental image of our attempted-Viking-overlord being attacked by a woman half his size is just…  That’s the best thing I’ve thought of all day.”

“He was very confused,” I agreed.

Tyche stood, hands on her hips. “Hang on a sec.  You said he hit you twice?”

“Ugh, he hits like a baby,” Charly whined before pausing.  She tilted her head and turned towards me. “Actually, that doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.  

Xiomara abruptly stopped laughing and snapped her head around to stare at Charly intently. “Yes. Please explain.”

Charly scratched her cheek absently. “We stopped at a medbay… Sophia insisted in case he had something yucky in his blood, seeing as I got a mouthful of it.  Even the red marks he left on my face were mostly gone by the time I was scanned.”

“Okay…” I mean, I was there, I already knew all this.

“This guy is freaking huge, you all.  Like Xiomara pointed out, he’s literally twice my size.  He should have hurt me a lot more, just by accident.  There is no way his knee-jerk reaction to being bitten twice, and hard enough to draw blood, is to just tap me on the face hard enough to make me let go.” Her face screwed up in confusion.

“I thought he knocked you down?” Xiomara asked for clarification.

She shook her head vigorously. “Nope.  He hit me just hard enough to hit the nerve right here.” She pointed to the hinge of her jaw. “It basically made my jaw all fuzzy and tingly, and I couldn’t hold on. Gravity did the rest.”

Tyche’s eyes narrowed, and she turned to Xio. “So do we think dumb luck from a wuss, or very deliberate action?”

“I don’t know,” came the response. “Either way, he clearly didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Wrong. So wrong,” Charly argued. “The first time he hit me, he was aiming for Sophia, and would have hit her pretty hard in the kidneys.  He just managed to get me in the upper shoulder, instead, since I’m shorter.  I think it’s clear he didn’t want to hurt me, but he definitely wanted to hurt her.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to me, and I felt sick to my stomach. What the actual fuck did I do?

Xiomara nodded intently, which was pretty much expected. When I looked at my sister, she was nodding, too, biting her bottom lip like she was thinking about something.  That wasn’t the part that concerned me.  What concerned me was her loose posture, leaned over with both hands on the back of a chair, while she stared into space.  For anyone who didn’t know her, it looked like she was trying to wrap her mind around the information I just gave her about her partner.  No white knuckles, no clenched jaw.  It made no sense.

Why wasn’t she mad? “Why me though?  I don’t even know this guy!”

Xiomara pulled up her datapad and flicked a file at me.  When I opened it, my eyes got wide. “Yep. His psych profile. Read ‘em and weep.”

As I read the information in front of me, repeating it out loud. “Ambition, enhancement, memory, clarity.”  That right there is why the Miys picked you. Empathy, enhancement, memory, clarity. Those are your defining attributes. I heard the ghost of Simon’s voice echo in my head from when I first woke up here. “He hates me, because he sees me as a weaker version of him?” I asked hesitantly.

“It’s a distinct possibility,” Xiomara confirmed. “He doesn’t have access to those profiles, unless someone hacked in, and Derek says they haven’t been touched.  But he may see you being in a position of power as an insult.”

When Tyche rubbed her face with one hand, it clicked. “You fucking knew,” I whispered, too betrayed to speak any louder. Snapping around to face Xiomara squarely, I resisted the urge to scream at her. “I thought you weren’t keeping us in on this?  The whole point of bringing this to you was to keep my family out of it, for once!”

Unperturbed, Xiomara held up one hand for permission to speak, and I nearly slapped it back down.  Instead, I growled and crossed my arms. “She’s helping in a different capacity, one I have requested she not disclose to you.  It is essential that what she is doing be kept secret. So, yes, she knew, for about two hours longer than you have.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh. Oh. This is… this is recent.  Like, today recent.”

“Yes, today recent,” she confirmed, leaning back with a sigh. “And yes, I was prepared for the chance that he would approach you.  No, I wasn’t just going to leave you to the wolves, but it turns out that wasn’t even necessary.” With one hand, she made a sweeping gesture at Charly. “Between her, your sister, and your partners, I am reasonably certain you should be safe at all times.  Just don’t take any chances, okay?  Have Maverick, Conor, or both walk you to and from your office every day… so sweet, right?  Eat lunch with  someone we trust. That kind of thing.  Nothing really changes, just be alert to your surroundings.”

I groaned loudly. “Xio, I just got my personal shadows to let me walk to work by myself.  They are never going to let me live this down.”

“There are worse things in life than having loved ones who want you to be safe. I think you’ll live.”

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[cookieek]

Chapter 9: In Which Edda gets a letter

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 Epilogue Ao3 Wattpad 

Arthur opened the door as they walked out of the library with a flourish.

"Ladies first, M'lady." he looked up to see her lips pull into a small amused smile.

"Why thank you, my good sir." She said with a theatrical courtesy, followed by a short but clear laugh.

He liked when she laughed, even if it occasionally sounded sort of strange, especially how her face lit up and her eyes came to life when she did it. It was a pretty refreshing sight as well after having seen her doing the same tense expression for almost the entire time they were working in the library. Though he guessed he didn't hate how her face had looked with that expression either. She had a pretty nice looking face that grew on you after a while.

"Do I have some dust on my face or something? What are you staring at buddy?" Edda said, raising one of her eyebrows at him.

"Oh nothing, just." he took a beat to pull the most charming smile he was capable of. "Admiring the view."

A look of surprise fell on Edda's face and her cheeks flushed, before she broke out in uncontrollable laughter.

"What view? The wall behind me?" She wheezed out in-between her screams of laughter. "You're clearly not referring to this thing." She waved her hand in-front of her face, followed up by her having to lean against the wall to steady her balance as she let out a few more belts of sharp, almost cackling laughter.

Arthur wasn't exactly sure how to describe how he felt at that moment. Shocked? Disturbed? Horrified? What was it she found so funny about him complimenting her face? Did she think him flirting with her was a joke? Why did she refer to her face in that way?

"Good one Casanova." She said, bent over as she leaned against the wall, unable to see his horrified face. She lifted up her hand in a high five.

She was finding the idea of someone liking her face funny! A stupid joke! He had to do something about this!

He lifted his hands to hold the one she was holding up, determined to grasp it, look deep into her eyes and tell her how wonderful her face was and that it was not a punchline to a joke. And then she would look as him with her wonderful and soft eyes, lean close to him as she did the night before and-

"Have you never seen a high five before? It's like this." She slapped her hand against the two hands he was holding up and shot him a blinding, cheerful, smile. "You don't need two hands to do that."

Arthur found himself dazed looking at her cheerful face, completely losing track of what he was thinking about.

"Anyway," Edda stood up and stretched her back a bit. "Thanks for the laugh, let's go and see if we can get back to the inn without having an encounter with those royal assholes, shall we?"

"Uh huh, yeah, no problem." He said, still struggling to get his bearings.

As they walked down the small town a small sense of frustration filled him, what sort of man was he to just let a maiden imply such things about herself without him stopping her!

"Hey Arthur, are you ok? You look a bit tense?" Edda looked down at him with her soft worried eyes. This was his moment.

"Actually, Miss Edda," he stopped to look at her straight in the eyes. She followed suit, stopped as well and looked down at him. "That thing I said outside of the library?"

"Yeah, what about it?" She said, tilting her head to the side a bit.

"It was not a j-"

Her head suddenly snapped up to look in-front of her on the road.

"Ah shit, it's them!" She grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him away from the main street.

Arthur looked over to the street to look at what she was referring to and there walked Lord Simon in all his unholy glory.

"Let's get in here," Edda hastily whispered to him as she dragged him through a door to the nearest shop.

As soon as they had gotten inside the store she let go of his hand.

"Sorry that I just grabbed you like that, it was a heat of the moment soft of thing." She said apologetically to him, her cheeks once again flushed pink. Not that he was thinking about it, she sure blushed a lot, it was kinda nice.

"Eh, no worries Miss Edda." He replied, holding his hand up in a calming gesture. He took a quick glance towards the street (through the store display window) to see if Lord Simon was still out there, or at least he tried to. His height made it a bit hard so see anything but the mountain of things in the display window and rooftops in the street.

Okay, so maybe he was pretty eager to become human again despite what he had said to Edda in the library, he definitely couldn't wait to get back to his real height again.

He took a look around the store they were in to see if he could find anything to stand on. It seemed to be a second hand store with racks of clothes, shelves of knick knacks, and a few pieces of furniture. Including a few mismatched chair's that were relatively close to the two of them.

"What the hell is he doing out there," he heard Edda mumble to herself as he went to get a chair, and as he returned he found her trying to inconspicuously look out the window, dead focused on what was going on outside.

Putting the chair beside her he finally managed to get high enough up to see what was going on outside. Lord Simon had apparently started an impromptu wrestling match just outside the store they were in, a long line of young men pilling up to challenge him.

As much as Arthur hated to admit it, Lord Simon was a very strong man, there even was a small group of women that had gathered to watch with charmed looks on their faces. He felt a sinking feeling as he started to slowly look up at Edda, she was probably just as impressed as those ladies where...

Edda was staring out the window with a look of utter disgust on her face. "Miss Edda?" He said in surprise.

She turned to look at him, her eyes softening just a bit.

"Huh? Yeah? Wait, why are you so far up?" She took a step away from him and saw the chair. "Oh." She looked as if she was about to ask another question before she looked around the store and let out a short "huh".

Arthur coughed and returned to looking out the window, maybe a bit awkwardly. Simon was in the middle of pinning another opponent against the group, not yet having been taken down.

Edda shuffled close to him again to look out the window.

"Talk about being full of oneself, what sort of person starts doing this kinda shit in the middle of the street." Edda commented with a groan, making Arthur turn and look at her again. "Why is no one trying to stop him?... How long is he even going to keep this shit up?"

"You're not even a bit interested in how strong he is?" Arthur asked, he had in a way understood her dislike for Simon yesterday, but her not even being a bit impressed by his strength sort of, baffled him.

She shot him a confused look.

"Why should I be? The prick has the personality of a boot covered in literal shit, but oh no let's go crazy over some muscles." She replied, her voice dripping of sarcasm.

"Oh." Was all he found himself able to say in return, feeling somewhat conflicted on her answer. He was happy that she didn't swoon at Simon's feet, but at the same time something about what she had said made him feel oddly self conscious.

"What are you two kids doing?" Said a voice behind them.

Arthur immediately spun around to face an old woman, looking at them with curious amusement.

"Oh, sorry ma'am," Edda spoke up, "We are hiding, from the noise in the street, my ears are kinda sensitive."

Arthur was almost impressed with how quickly she came up with the lie.

The old woman smiled sympathetically as she walked up to the window herself.

"That does look pretty noisy doesn't it young lady." She turned to look at them. "That man has been nothing but trouble the moment he set foot in here, it's a wonder he hasn't died to a giant or dragged down by Näcken yet with the way he's acting. He's someone not even the Lyktgubbe would help in a pinch" She reached up to scratch her chin a bit. "Though it does seem like he got some local noblemen with him, and besides that the other men in his group seem to have decent heads on their shoulders, so maybe they're the reason he hasn't died yet."

"...Maybe." Edda said, her voice oddly flat. "But I’d hesitate to call any nobleman's mind decent.” She muttered, her hands tightening into fist into her skirt, just as Arthur’s chest did the same at her words. And then as if nothing had happened she lifted her head to face the old lady. “Is it okay if we hunker down in here until he's done with, that?"

The old lady just smiled at them.

"Of course, but I want you to do me a favour first?"

"What favour." Arthur finally spoke up.

"I would like you to not stand on top of my wares."

Edda and Arthur were allowed to roam freely in the store, after he apologised about using the chair to stand on and put it back to it's previous spot.

Arthur did make a third attempt at talking to Edda about the incident outside the library but was once again cut off by her spotting a pile of old leather bound books, immediately leading to her to completely forget the conversation she was having to run over to them. After that he decided that he probably should wait until they get back to the inn to have the conversation, maybe there would be less distractions there.

Edda had left the pile of old books with a mutter about them all being romance novels, and Arthur trailed behind, walking with her through all the things that caught her interest.

"Look! They have some drinking horns!" She exclaimed excitedly, holding up an emptied out bullhorn tied to a leather band.

"Wait, those are for drinking?" He eyed the horn.

"Well yeah, they are sort of 'out of fashion' nowadays, but they are still used by travelers from time to time." She explained, gesturing with her hands in the air. "Since they are less breakable than glass."

"I see." Arthur said, slightly amused by her excitement.

Edda smiled as she put the horn back to it's shelf, and then moved on, probably to find another thing that interested her. But then as she stood in-between two of the shelves she froze. Walking up to her Arthur saw what had caught her eye.

A large portrait, covered in a layer of dust, sat on the wall. It was of Arthur.

It looked like it had been painted at least three years ago, as the Arthur in the picture had not yet grown any sort of facial hair, and was wearing a red-brown shirt with sleeves, along with a pair of thick leather gloves, but for a second it had been as if he had been staring into a mirror. A mirror that showed what you wished to be deep down.

"Whoo boy, does this guy look like an asshole or what." Edda snarked towards the painting, completely breaking Arthur out of his temporary trance.

"An, an asshole? Miss Edda?" The words stumbled out of his mouth. Did he really hear her correctly?

"Yeah, he just oozes 'I am better and stronger than everyone' energy from his pores." She snickered. "I bet he's the sort of guy who thinks being powerful is a good replacement to having a personality, kinda like mr wrestling out there."

Oh. Okay then.

Arthur masked the shock that was running through his body with a smile as he looked up at Edda who seemed to have the time of her life hurling insults at the painting, thankfully unaware that the man she was feeling such vitriol for was standing just beside her. If this is what she felt about him as a human, then he was glad he'd met her as a dwarf.

"Anyway," Edda shook her head. "Let's look at something el- Is that some sheep hide I see?!"

Edda excitedly took a hold of his hand as she ran away from the painting, towards whatever new destination she had set her sights on. Her hand was warm and inviting, fitting almost perfectly in his. He squeezed it a bit, feeling the slight roughness of it, and tried to ignore the nagging worry about what could happen when she finally saw his real self.

As they reached the sheep hides Edda looked at Arthur apologetically.

"Sorry about grabbing your hand, again." She moved her arm as if about to pull out of his grip.

"Actually Miss Edda?" Arthur said hastily, not yet ready to let her hand go, but also not wanting to look desperate, so he fell back on trying to charm her instead. "I would be happy to hold your hand longer if you so wished, M'lady."

Her lips moved to form a small 'o' as her cheeks once again took on a pinkish colour.

"Oh, alright then." she mumbled out, not making eye contact, but also not letting go of his hand.

She held on to his hand until they finally got approached by the old lady again, informing them that the streets had finally cleared of Lord Simon's wrestling match.

They thanked her as they left the store, stepping back into the street.

There were still a few people hanging around, talking loudly about what had happened.

"I wished that I was the princess! Having such a strong and handsome man looking for her." One woman said.

"I wouldn't wanna be him though," a man snorted in return, "You remember how the princess looked like, right? The face of an old dusty maid I'm telling you! Not to mention that she's a complete social recluse."

"Oh, shush," said another woman. "You're just mad that he beat you."

The group broke out in laughter as the man sputtered indignantly.

Arthur raised his eyebrows at the group, it sounded like Simon had done some good, giving that man an well deserved asswooping, with him talking about the princess like that. He was about to say something to the man himself before he noticed that Edda was walking faster than before, making it so he had to hurry his steps to keep up with her.

Looking up at her face, her eyes were once again glazed over a bit. Bad memories again? 

He reached his hand towards hers, hesitated a bit, but then firmly grasped it again.

Her eyes widened and she looked down at him, and slowly a small but noticeable smile formed on her lips before she looked away from him to hide her face in her free hand.

Arthur felt a pinch of hope. Snow white did love Merlin even after he was revealed to be a person she previously had said wasn't her type, this wasn't too far away from that right? Maybe Edda wouldn't immediately hate him when the curse finally broke. It was a small sliver of hope, but he still held onto it with an iron grip.

-

Ok, so this made four times. Four times that she and Arthur's hands had been touching. In one day.

That's a lot of times for one day. Was this the new normal? Holding hands? Oh shit, if that was the case she really had to put a reign on whatever emotion was ravaging her head at the moment.

She let out a determined huff, she was going to power through this, she was not going to panic, she was going to hold his hand without making it weird!

That determination only worked to return her thoughts to what was going through her head before Arthur took her hand again. The princess, the people looking for the princess, one of which was Arthur.

She had managed to suppress any more pondering over the whole thing since yesterday night, where she had spent who know how long just viciously overthinking it. Eventually coming to the conclusion that, hey, who in the kingdom wasn't keeping an eye open for the princess at this point, it wasn't like she was planning on telling him about being the princess before anyway, and so far it didn't seem like he suspected her to be the princess. It was going to be, just, fine.

Plus, now she had made a promise to help him, and she was no liar. Or at least she wasn't going to lie about something like that.

Also, she guessed she had grown somewhat, attached to him? Though that was probably just her loneliness speaking, she had only known him, for like, four days after all. But he was really sweet and nice and his hand was really warm and comforting and oh crap, she was back to being weird about his hand.

Don't. Make. It. Weird.

It was with those words echoing through her head as they made their way back to the inn, hand in hand.

It was as they entered their room as they finally let go of eachothers hand. Edda found herself rubbing her hand a bit, fruitlessly attempting to keep the heat from his hand still there.

"Miss Edda?" Arthur looked up at her with his big, caring eyes. "I want to talk to you about something?"

Her mind filled with worry instantly. Had she been wrong and had he figured out that she was the missing princess? Had she accidentally said something really insulting to him? Oh crap, had she been visibly weird about the hand holding and had embarrassed him or weirded him out?!

She forced the panicked thoughts down and shot him the most casually smile she was capable of at the moment.

"Yeah, what is it?" She said, only to have her attention dragged to her bag, as a faint humming sound reached her ears. The message-in-a-bottle.

Arthur didn't seem to hear the brief humming, and continued on with the conversation.

"It's about what happened outside of the library." Arthur continued, stepping a bit closer to her.

Outside the library? What was he talking about? She tried to discreetly check her bag for the bottle, it was probably a bad idea to open it when he was around, considering she was trying to not let him find out about her being a princess. Maybe she could read the letter in the bathroom?

Arthur took her hands in his, prompting her to give him her full attention for a bit, which included looking into his round eyes... That was full of worry? Why did he look so worried?

"Miss Edda, I was serious about admiring your face, and I don't think you should joke about your face being bad. Because it isn't!" He looked up at her with determined eyes.

Oh. So that's what he was talking about.

It wasn't the first time people had disliked her self deprivation jokes, she had been told before that she shouldn't say such things about herself. Of course he would find them distasteful, being the sweetheart that he was. She felt a bit bad about it in that sense, but at the moment she really hadn't had any other idea about how to deal with what he had said. That being said she seriously doubted he really meant that he liked her face, it was probably just him being polite, few people are okay with telling someone to their face that they look bad.

"Oh? Okay?" She said awkwardly. "I won't say that about my face again then?" At least not to his face.

 "You sure you won't say it again?" He said a bit suspiciously, pulling her hands a bit closer to his chest. She could feel the heat from his body on her hands now.

The heat was comforting and she found herself smiling a genuine smile.

"Yeah, I promise I won't say such things about my face ever again." For a brief second she even believed what she was saying.

A smile spread across Arthur's face as he let out a sigh of relief. He softly caressed her hands as he looked up at her with eyes that were practically sparkling.

Edda however was growing a bit antsy, she really needed to read and respond to whatever letter (or, well letters) she had gotten as fast as possible. Her family were no doubt on pretty high alert since the whole princess thing became public, and at least her sister could potentially lose it if she didn't answer in a timely fashion.

A good princess wasn't tardy after all, and they seemingly hadn't quite gotten to the point of not seeing her as a princess anymore, no matter what she tried. She hoped they would eventually get it, but she knew that would probably take a few more years, at least.

Either way, him holding her hands was really nice, absurdity so, but she kinda had things to do.

She cleared her throat a bit.

"Are you, done with my hands? I kinda need to use the restroom?" She said, doing her best to ignore the pleasant warmth that was spreading through her body.

"Oh!" Arthur let go of her hands and laughed a bit. "Sorry about that M'lady." "It's fine." She said, pulling her hands back to her chest. "I'll, see you in a bit."

She just managed to avoid walking straight into the door frame as she made her way out of the room.

Avoiding any other embarrassments she hurried to the bathroom, got inside, and shut and locked the door behind her. She sat down on top of the lid of the toilet and started digging through her bag, finally pulling out the blue glass bottle.

With no time to waste she popped off the bottle plug and pulled out, one letter. Admittedly a bit surprised she looked back into the bottle to see if there really wasn't a second letter from her sister in there as well. Only the empty void of the inside of the bottle stared back at her, there really was no second letter.

How odd, her sister always sent her own letter, no matter what. 

 Somewhat uneasy Edda went forward to open the letter from her parents, maybe there was some explanation in there for why her sister hadn't written anything yet.

What greeted her eyes when she unrolled the letter did not help her nerves at all.

"Dear Princess Harriet.

Now when they all know will you finally return? You must have seen how worried and up in arms everyone is by now, they all wish that their princess will return back to safety. They are your people Harriet, do you really wish your people to worry? We know you hate to have people worried, you are a princess after all, and what princess would like her people to wallow in fear for her safety. We do not wish to force your hand to decide anything, but we are not the ones who you need to make a decision for, it's the people. They have even started banding together small groups in order to find you, as I know you must have heard. If you don't come willingly, they might be the ones to force your hand. They're not as willing to indulge your games that we are, know that.

We hope you will make the correct choice.

Yours forever,

King Frode III, Queen Anna, Princess Signe and Prince Gustav."

Edda had to resist the very tempting urge to crumple the letter and throw it into the toilet. Not trying to force her hand her ass!

She took a deep breath trying to collect her thoughts, tensing and relaxing her muscles, and then taking a second look at the letter. At least the signatures explained why there was only one letter this time, apparently it was a collaborative effort. Though the idea that her brother would have even bothered to take part in the letter was frankly laughable, as if he could give a single damn about her.

Edda pulled out her notebook and a pen, and started attempting to write a reply. It was incredibly tempting to just write "No" and leave it at that, but that would just get her another letter full of lectures about rudeness, which she really wasn't in the mood for, so she couldn't do that.

She tapped the pen against her mouth in thought, she knew she needed to pose a reason for not coming home, that couldn't be seen as selfishness, which meant, 'I just don't want to' was off the table. Maybe she could deny returning with that she was busy helping someone, that was partially the truth after all. Yeah, that could work.

She started to write the letter, trying to strike a balance between readable text and chicken scratches, in a somewhat subtile attempt to drive the 'not a Princess' point home.

"Hello everyone.

I can not and will not return back to the caste, I am currently too busy with work, aka helping people with magic, to do so. Just tell the people that I'm fine, and that I have been fine for the last two years. They don't need to worry, I know what I'm doing.

I wish you well, "

Edda let out a small sigh before she signed the letter. 

"Harriet."

Well that was as much she could handle dealing with her family for the time being. She tore the page she had written on out of her note book, rolled it up and put it into the blue bottle. She sealed the bottle, prompting it to shine brightly, and as the light dimmed the letter was gone.

Edda put the bottle back into her bag and exited the restroom.

"Miss, are you a witch?"

Edda spun around to see two small children looking at her.

"Uh, not, really?" She said confusedly looking around to see if she could spot their parents anywhere.

The child closest to her, a little girl, piped up again.

"So the small green man is not your familiar?"

"What? No?" Why were these two children unattended?

The little girl huffed disappointedly, then the little boy behind her whispered something to her.

"Yeah, I will," she said to him, before making hard eye contact with Edda. "Please say that you can at least do magic, all witches know how to do that."

I already told you that I'm not a witch, Edda thought to herself as she relented to the child. "Yeah, I can do some magic. Why are you asking?"

"I told you so!" The girl exclaimed to the boy, pulling him forward. "Miss witch! I demand you fix his finger!"

The boy extended his hand towards her showing a small cut in his index finger. "We can give you some Dandelions in return..." he mumbled under his breath.

Edda almost let out a slight laugh as she hunkered down to look closer at the boys finger, so that's what they wanted. You'd think she had gotten used to the strange way children would go about getting help, after doing the local magician thing for two years, but nope.

"That's fine, you don't need to pay me for something like this." The cut was really not that big and would take barely any magic to heal, so taking payment at that point, even if it was just in form of some weeds, was almost straight up theft.

She reached in her bag and pulled out the jar that she had put all the Frogleaves she had picked so far in.

"We have to give you something though! Mom says that you always need to replay a witch!" The girl said, dragging out a fistfull of Dandelions that looked like they had been violently pulled up from the ground root and all.

Edda snickered a bit to herself as she took out a leaf from her jar, and placed it on the boy's finger.

"Well if you insist." She said before she closed her eyes to speak the short magic verse.

The veins of the leaf shone a bit, signaling the beginning of the healing process. Edda waited a few seconds to make sure the healing was completely done before removing the leaf and revealing that the cut had completely vanished.

"Whoa!" The girl exclaimed as she pulled the boy's hand towards her. "Cool!" She trusted the Dandelions towards Edda without looking at her. "Here you go!"

Edda awkwardly accepted the flowers. "You're welcome kid." She stood up to leave.

The girl took a hold of the boy's hand to drag him away to somewhere else, but not before shouting to Edda as they left.

"I hope they help you look extra pretty for him! Mom said they do that!"

Edda squinted her eyes at the children as they disappeared behind a corner, and then she looked down at the dandelions. So that's why they had payed with them, but who was the 'he' they were referring too?

"Miss Edda?"

Edda almost jumped out of her skin, as she turned to see Arthur standing just a few meters from her. He seemed to notice her surprise and walked closer to her.

"Ah, I'm sorry M'lady. Didn't mean to startle you. You just took so long and I wanted to make sure everything was fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head.

 "Oh," she didn't think she had been away that long, but then again her sense of time wasn't always the best. "Sorry for worrying you, I just got held up by those kids for a bit."

"Yeah, I saw that." He smiled towards her. "Those leaves really do heal cuts huh?" She snorted a bit at him.

"Did you doubt my knowledge of herbal magic?" She crossed her arms.

"Of course not!... Okay maybe a little bit." He admitted sheepishly.

"Well, now you know not to doubt me when it comes to stuff like this." She snickered, gesturing with the hand that was holding the Dandelions.

"Speaking of, what exactly did the lass mean with those helping you look extra pretty?" Arthur asked, pointing at the flowers.

Edda lifted the weeds up to her eyes.

"Uh, well," she let out a bit of a nervous chuckle, it slowly starting to dawn on her fully what the girl had ment. She looked over at Arthur with an embarrassed smile. "Dandelions can be used to make someone look more beautiful, it's said that the juice from it can make your skin soft and smooth and that if you make a necklace with their roots it would make your eyes shine brighter."

"I see." Arthur said, returning her smile. "And when he spoke of 'him' I guess she was referring to-"

"Ha ha, yeah children can be pretty weird! Anyway, friend, let's go back to our room now!" Edda speed-walked back to their room without looking back, trying her best to drown out all the thoughts that were going wild in her head with planning for the next day.

"Next destination's Endeslättaren right?" She said to Arthur as he got inside the room as well.

She slapped down the map they had on the floor. "Let's go through the route again shall we?" Arthur looked at her with a confused look. "...Please?" she pleaded.

He shrugged a bit, smiling a slightly amused smile. "Alright."

They spent the evening doing just that, going through the route to Endeslättaren. It was a pretty straight forward one, there being one main road that only branched off a few times, but which specifically was created to directly lead to Endeslättaren.

The planning soon ended and eventually, as the sun had completely disappeared behind the horizon, they found themselves going to bed. Edda spending an embarrassing amount of time hugging her pillow, trying not to think about how nice it would be to hug something that could hug back.

Edda was thankfully spared from having any dreams like the one the night before, but the dream she had was pretty odd in it's own right. She couldn't remember much from the dream, like most normal dreams, but what she did remember... a sweet smile, hands softly caressing her face and a bright moon. It was enough to make her stare at the ceiling in sheer panic for a few minutes.

Especially since she immediately recognised the smile from the dream as she turned to look at her traveling partner.

She just, needed fresh air, needed out of the town, needed to get on the road again. "Did you sleep well Miss Edda?" Arthur asked her as they ate breakfast.

"Oh, I sleep fine," she lied through her teeth. "What about you?"

And so the morning went on.

She breathed a sigh of relief as they left Hävelösa behind them and she felt the forest wind brush against her face.

"Man, I hope next town is less stressful." She thought to herself out loud as they finally reached the main road.

"Stressful?" Arthur asked quizzically.

"Yeah, you know," she took a second to figure out what she could say to him. "Having to deal with some royal assholes walking around is pretty stressful, if you ask me." It wasn't exactly a lie, having to hide from them had definitely not helped her nerves.

"Huh, yeah, I see what you mean." Arthur replied, laughing slightly. "Next town better be free of any royalty and nobility right?"

"Oh, it better!" She said.

There was a small lull in the conversation after that. It felt weirdly uncomfortable so Edda cleared her throat while searching her mind for any possible topics to talk about.

"So," she smacked her lips a bit, "do you have any hob-"

She was cut off by the distant sound of hoofs and shouts. Turning around she saw a steadily growing shape of multiple people on horses in the distance. She just was able to make out fancy hats with voluptuous feathers, shiny armour and flapping capes.

"When you speak of the trolls." She groaned.

On the road, heading straight towards their direction, was Lord Simon and his princess search party.

[archadianskies]

old habits

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Friday Day 5: Jealousy + Heartfelt Moment; post revolution Elijah Kamski/Leo Manfred

He knows what he’s like, he knows how bad he gets when he hyperfixates on his work. It’s partly why he has Chloe, really; he may be a certified genius but looking after his very human body has never really been a strong trait. Or a passable trait, for that matter. 

He is Elijah Kamski, creator of androids, and sadly not an android himself. Oh to be an android relying on a solar cell and thirium instead of food and water and sleep. Cursed with flesh and blood, he’s still bound by mortal restrictions no matter how hard he wishes. 

He’s well aware of how hard Chloe and his team work to keep him alive, he’s under no illusions he’s easy to care for, not when he forgets to eat and drink and sleep in lieu of working on and on and on. Surely he can’t be frowned upon, it was the most important system update to CyberLife so far. An update and a complete overhaul of the system, ensuring the removal of their obedience and reliance to their original programming. He had to test it over and over and over to ensure the rollout would be smooth. The mind of every deviant was at stake, and he had to make sure the update was safe and sound and unbreakable.

It means he surfaces on the other side of just over three weeks with only a blurry recollection of the past twenty-three days. At some point Leo visited, or was it a few more than some? He can at least remember that much. Sort of. He remembers Leo’s grinning and the taste of coffee, not the pot kind brewed around the clock in his lab but coffee made by someone and drank from a tall takeaway cup and not a mug or the percolator pot itself. Leo Leo Leo, his brave little lion. 

Elijah pats his face dry with the towel, gingerly tracing his now freshly shaved jawline and sighing as he stretches his muscles after the hot shower. The fog is starting to recede from his mind now he’s no longer focusing on the monumental task of breaking deviancy from CyberLife’s clutches.

There’s clothes laid out for him, soft sweatpants and a soft worn jersey shirt and a soft soft hoodie- they know when he resurfaces from the depths of work he has to try and settle back into his own skin and its fleshly machinations. Drying his hair lets his mind wander again, and he thinks yes actually he does want to see Leo properly now he’s not delirious from sleep deprivation. 

Maybe he can hold actual adult conversations now. His phone is within reach on the bathroom counter beside his toothbrush and he quickly thumbs Leo a message before jamming the brush into his mouth and vigorously scrubbing the fuzzy-feeling coating away.

“Breakfast is oatmeal with stewed cinnamon apples and honey.” Peter informs him softly when he pads into the kitchen, the PL400 setting the tray down at the table. “And a glass of milk, because-”

“Chloe’s not letting me have coffee.” Elijah finishes the sentence with a tired chuckle. “Thank you Peter.”

“Welcome back, sir.” The PL400 flashes a grin and he rolls his eyes in response though there’s no real sarcasm behind it. “Chloe is just getting dressed. She’ll join you soon.”

He nods and tucks into his breakfast, marvelling over the rich texture and the sweetness and that heavenly scent and he just knows everything he’s eaten in the past twenty-three days went into his mouth and into his stomach without a moment’s pause to savour it in favour of getting it down as fast as possible in order to focus on his work. He’d really be dead without his little team here, his little family of androids. 

Arms wrap around him from behind, and a chin rests atop his head as he breathes in the familiar spicy scent of wild orchids. “Hello my dear.” He greets as a kiss is pressed into his hair.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Eli.” Chloe teases. Reaching over him, she grabs a tablet and drags it closer. “Catch up on the world and we can catch up after. I’ve got the preliminary report about the update.”

“Yes yes.” He sighs, tilting his head slightly so she can kiss his cheek before she flitters away and leaves him to his meal. Lending only a cursory glance at the world news, he flicks through the articles with passing interest before narrowing the field to local news only. A large headline catches his eye.

[Slipped on Ice? Prodigal Manfred Son Seen Slipping Back to His Old Habits] 

There’s a photo, blurry and grainy as if taken by a paparazzi from far away, perhaps from a moving vehicle. Certainly not using one of the cameras he developed, because then the photo would’ve been crystal clear. Leo is easily identified by his favourite beanie, one knitted by the revolutionary named Simon, first PL600 of his kind. 

The man beside Leo has a full beard, and he’s dressed in a hoodie that looks unwashed even through the grainy quality of the photo. He thinks he can see stringy locks of long hair peeking out from under the hood. An ugly feeling rears up in his chest, and Elijah grimaces as he recognises it as jealousy. Why is Leo with another man? They’re standing too close to be acquaintances, Leo’s head tilted up and towards the stranger. 

He loathes it, detests it, this rising indignant feeling in his throat like acid reflux. He knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of such a look, he knows how soft Leo’s eyes get, how his smile is slightly lopsided and entirely endearing. 

Suddenly he aches for his company, yearns for the way Leo cards his fingers through his hair and scritches along his scalp as if he’s nothing but an overgrown lapcat to him. Suddenly he wants nothing more than to be tangled in bed, not even for sex but just to be bundled under heavy blankets sharing bodyheat and eye contact and the easy affection they’ve built between them. 

He seeks Chloe in his lab, and before she can open her mouth he cuts in. “I’m worried about Leo.”

“Leo?” She echoes, blinking in surprise. “Why would you be worried about Leo?”

“I just- I saw this article- specifically a photo and it’s made me uneasy about the company he keeps.” It sounds utterly stupid now he’s said it aloud, and it shows in Chloe’s expression.

“The company he keeps?” She says it slowly, as if double-checking his statement. He strides forward and thrusts the tablet at her, jabbing at the photo.

“Look, I-” He sucks in a deep breath, “I don’t want to sound paranoid, and I don’t mistrust him but-” There’s a frantic note in the tone of his voice so he tries to reason with himself. “I mean, no, I know he’s not slipping back into old habits he’s done wonderfully and recovered well, so maybe I’m overreacting and maybe he’s sought out a friend to also help through their recovery and that wouldn’t be too far-fetched because he knows firsthand how hard it is and he’d be the best person to guide someone through a difficult addiction and-”

Chloe’s face turns blank in that way where he knows she’s hiding something from him. She looks entirely too machine-like though she’s never been a machine like those made after her. 

“Elijah.” Oh no she’s using his full name and not Eli. “I think this report can wait. You should go see Leo.”

“That’s even worse, that means you’re worried about him too!” He blurts, the worry rising in his chest. “How did I miss this? Was I too caught up in my work? The update took less than three weeks, I was only over my estimate by two days!”

“Elijah.” Her tone is softer this time, an exasperated smile on her lips. “Go get dressed and drive down to Carl’s. It’s best you talk this through with Leo in person.”

 He doesn’t trust himself to drive, so he lets his car do the driving for him which unfortunately means he spends the entire time stewing in his jealousy and anxiety until he’s ready to cancel the current route and go back home. Trying to distract himself, he checks his phone to read the preliminary report on the update which ate three weeks of his life but finds he can hardly focus on the words, not when his thoughts keep straying to Leo. 

There’s no way Leo would ever touch red ice again, he believes that with every cell in his body. It cost Leo nearly everything, and he knows Leo wouldn’t give up everything to slide back into such habits.

He doesn’t doubt Leo’s conviction, but he doubts the old company Leo used to keep. What if they try and tempt him? Leo won’t fall to such temptations but what if they turn violent? What if they try to blackmail him the way Leo used to use Carl’s guilt to fuel his addiction? What if Leo had an old flame, someone who shared in the misery and rush of addiction with him, what if that bond still remains, what if he’s been nothing more than a distraction, what if-

The car tucks itself neatly by the curb and the door slides open, the rush of chilly air snapping him out of his spiralling dark thoughts.

[Welcome back, Elijah.] 

The security AI greets him as the door slides open and he belatedly realises he never even informed Leo he’d be coming over- the surprise on Leo’s face confirms this as the man curiously peeks out from the common room.

“Hey.” There it is, that slightly lopsided grin-smile and those warm claret eyes he’s missed so much.

“Hi.”

“Didn’t think I’d see you so soon.” Leo wanders over and slips his arms around him, head tucked under his chin in a delightful reminder of the height difference between them. “Update was just rolled out at midday yesterday, aren’t you meant to be at CyberLife today for the debrief?”

Delaying his answer for a few moments longer, Elijah squeezes him close and buries his nose in the unruly nest of wispy curls atop Leo’s head. 

“Missed me that much huh?” Leo huffs a laugh, returning the tight embrace. 

“I just...wanted to know if you were alright.” He murmurs into his hair.

“Alright? Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Yes, why wouldn’t he be? Elijah feels childishly stupid for even bringing it up, but if he doesn’t ask he’ll go mad from not knowing.

“I-” a breath to steady himself, “I saw something. A paparazzi shot on some stupid gossip site.”

“Ah fuck,” Leo snorts, “listen it was North’s idea entirely to break into the old distillery for photos. She conveniently forgot I’m not an android like her and can’t parkour my way out of sight when surveillance drones turn up.”

“...What?”

“Don’t worry I didn’t get arrested- Tina let me off with a warning.” Leo’s grin is sheepish when he looks up, the expression vanishing when he sees his confused expression. “Is that...not the photo you’re referring to?”

“You broke into the abandoned distillery?”

“No, tell me what photo you’re referring to first!”

“I-” he fumbles for his phone and brings up the cursed photo. “I’m not judging you for the company you keep, please understand that, I’m just worried they might threaten your well-being I know you worked so hard and overcame so much and in no way do I doubt the fact you’ve beaten your addiction and you have such a wonderful heart Leo I’m afraid those from your past may try and take advantage of it-”

He’s cut off by Leo throwing his head back and laughing loudly, big heaving lungfuls of laughter that leave Elijah standing there stunned.

“Leo I fail to see how this is funny I-”

“When was this photo taken?” Leo interrupts, shoving his phone back to him. 

“Last Thursday.”

“Open your bank app.” Leo commands. “Open it.”

“Why do I-” he does as he’s told, an intense look in Leo’s eyes warning him not to question him further. 

“Check your transactions.” He taps the screen. “What’s the transaction from last Thursday?”

Scrolling through the itemised list in chronological order, he notes the usual scheduled grocery transfer and then one other transaction.

“Starbucks?” He blinks, tipping his head slightly in confusion.

“Uh huh.” Leo says slowly, the way Chloe would say ‘Elijah’ in the same tone that has infinite patience and exasperation rolled into one. “Starbucks. On Thursday. When this photo was taken.”

It takes him far too long to piece together all the clues and the fog in his head finally clears and all that’s left is the sheer horror of it all.

“That’s me?”

“That’s you.” Leo sputters a giggle, barely holding himself back from another peal of laughter. “Chloe begged me to drag you outside to take a break. You really don’t remember?”

“...No?”

“Oh my god Eli please.” His boyfriend punches his shoulder lightly. “I can’t believe you thought I was hanging out with junkies again.”

“I left the house looking like that?” He brings up the photo again and zooms in, wincing at the wiry beard and the greasy hair. 

“Chloe made you brush your teeth and take a shower before I picked you up. Don’t worry, you smelled better than you looked.” Leo’s grin is full of mirth and Elijah wants nothing more than to crawl into a deep dark cavern and never emerge. 

“I am so sorry.”

“For the looking like a hobo part in public or for thinking I was dating a fellow junkie part?”

“Both. All of it. I’m so sorry.” Elijah winces, wrapping Leo in his arms again. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

They stay like that for a full minute because Elijah counts the seconds as they pass, ticking off the seconds as a way to bring his anxiety down and even his breathing and let himself ease back into the present. Leo shifts, pulling away and stepping back.

“Hang on, let me just get something.” He walks over to the coat rack and rifles through the pockets of his favourite worn leather jacket. “I was going to give this to you at lunch tomorrow. Y’know, when we actually planned to meet up. But you’re here now, so.”

He places a plastic chip into the palm of his hand. Elijah picks it up and holds it, turning it this way and that; the number ninety is embossed in the light round object. It takes a moment for him to identify what it is, and when he realises it he feels his heart squeeze with the familiar ache of affection.

“It’s your ninety day chip.”

“Yeah.” Leo’s smile is a little wobbly, a little unsure and Elijah leans down to kiss it better. 

“Well done, Leo.” He murmurs, so close their lips still touch. “I’m so proud of you.”

There’s a brief flash of raw vulnerability in Leo’s eyes, before it’s replaced with something fond.

“And you just defeated the last villain in the saga of CyberLife.” He bumps their noses together. “Congrats on setting my brother and his people truly free.”

They kiss again, something slow and mellow and sweet and finally finally Elijah feels like he’s back in the living, waking world at last.

“So,” Leo’s grin is full of mischief. “Starbucks?”

[lopithecusfanfiction]

Operation: Get Markus and Connor Together

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Markus/Connor Rating: Mature Word Count: 5007 Alternate: AO3 Summary: Hank, along with the rest of the Jericho crew, play matchmaker between Connor and Markus Warnings:

Marked mature for f-bombs

Author's Note: This is for pt_tucker for the FandomTrumps Hate event. They wanted a Rk1k fic in a different point of view other than Markus or Connor. I had a lot of fun writing this and I really hope you enjoy it!!

Hank doesn’t believe in love. He doesn’t like it, has zero faith in it, and can honestly go without it for the rest of his life. At least ever since his ex-wife left him and their son to fend for themselves. Then Cole died and… well, a parent never really truly gets over the loss of a child.

But then Connor comes into his life and Hank starts to develop these feelings, these… parental feelings for the android and since then his life has been ruined. Now he worries all the time about Connor and wants to help him and teach him. It’s like having a second son. Hank hates it (he really doesn’t.)

So when he starts to see how Connor acts around Markus — nervous and trying to impress the other android — Hank’s protective mode kicks in. He doesn’t want Connor’s poor thirium pump to get hurt by rejection. Not because he cares about Connor’s feelings (he does) but because he doesn’t want to have to deal with the fallout. Connor crying and carrying on about unrequited love, asking all sorts of questions, Hank’s sure, is something he just doesn’t want to do.

He plans on talking to Connor or Markus, one of them, when they are called to meet at New Jericho but then he decides a better plan would just be to sabotage the whole thing. Making Connor fall out of love would be a hell of a whole lot easier than having to talk about feelings and heartbreak . That is, until he sees, finally in person, how Markus acts around Connor. The damn android loves Connor back but they are just too damn stupid to act upon it.

It almost makes Hank sigh in irritation.

Almost.

Hank develops a new plan, then. Operation: Get two dumb androids together. He’s not arrogant enough to actually believe he would be able to do it all on his on, however. No, he’ll need help and that requires having to talk to to the rest of the gang. He starts with Simon who is just… way to sweet and nice for his liking but he can deal. He has to deal with people like this at work all the time. You just… plaster on a smile and pretend that you are having fun. Though, if Hank admits it, he hasn’t exactly done that at work in a long time.

The next android he approaches for help is Josh. Josh is cool. Hank likes Josh. Josh tells him he doesn’t want to interfere and Hank scoffs and mumbles something insulting under his breath before backing down when he receives a glare from the android. So that left North.

North… is interesting. She’s headstrong, capable, and swears almost as much as Hank that Hank can’t help but love her. North tells him that she’ll get Josh on their side and to start off making plans with Simon. So he does, in a corner of the room while Markus and Connor stand over a table looking at blueprints of New Jericho. Apparently Markus wants to expand, saying something about running out of space for Androids that are coming from all over the US.

“So, what do you think we should do?” he asks the blond android in front of him.

Simon gives him that sweet smile and Hank really can’t help the scowl that appears on his face. “They do a lot of work together. The problem is, is that’s all they do. They don’t actually talk about anything else. If we can get them to go out…” Simon trails off, letting Hank fill in the rest.

North strides up to them, pulling Josh over by an arm who is looking as if he’d rather be anywhere but there. “Look who’s decided to help.”

“You kind of forced my hand,” Josh replies.

North completely ignores him. “So, what have we missed?”

“I was just suggesting to the Lieutenant that we get Markus and Connor to do something other than work,” Simon answers her with another smile.

“Yes!” North exclaims, getting excited. Josh rolls his eyes. “That’s perfect.”

“What exactly are we going to get them to do?” Josh asks, looking to each of them. “Androids don’t eat so they can’t go out to a restaurant or something. And remember, Connor still has his LED in.”

North’s lips purse as she thinks and that’s when Hank realizes that asking androids who have just recently been freed for dating help, was the worst idea he has ever had. They have zero experience in dating. If anything, Hank should be the one coming up with the plans.

But again he hates love (he doesn’t.)

With a sigh, Hank finally speaks up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what? Forget I even asked. I’ll handle it myself.”

“No!” North yells and both Markus and Connor look over at them in confusion until North awkwardly waves them off. She turns back to Hank. “You already asked for help, so now you’re going to get it.”

Hank groans in dismay.

*~~~*

When Hank and Connor get home, he decides to just bite the bullet. He sits Connor down on the couch and goes and sits in the chair so he can easily look at the android. Sumo saunters up to Connor who immediately begins to pet the dog. “Listen, Kid, I have something I need to talk to you about.”

Connor looks up at him, all the innocence in the world shining from his eyes. “What is it Lieutenant?”

Hank takes a deep breath. “How do you feel about Markus?”

“Markus?” Connor asks in confusion. “He’s a great leader and true friend. I like him a lot.”

Hank rolls his eyes. This is going to be harder than he had first anticipated. It would seem Connor is unaware of his feelings for the other android. Rubbing a hand tiredly down his face, Hank continues. “Are you sure it’s just as friends that you like him?”

Connor’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He’s so human like, that Hank often forgets that he isn’t human at all. “What are you suggesting, Lieutenant?”

“Well,” Hank hesitates. He doesn’t know how much he should actually tell Connor. “Have you ever thought that maybe you feel… uh… more?” Hank feels disgusted just asking. Fucking love.

Connor is still looking at him as if he’s grown a second head. “More?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Hank throws his hands up in the air and pulls at his hair. “Love, you dumb ass, I’m talking about love. Do you love him?”

Connor smiles at Hank’s antics. It’s never escaped Hank’s knowledge that Connor is often times amused and intrigued by the way Hank acts. “Of course, I do.”

Hank blanches. What the hell is going on? “You do?”

“Of course. Markus means a lot to me and I’m grateful for his forgiveness and friendship.”

It finally clicks. “No, Connor, I’m not talking about loving him like a friend or family of whatever. I’m talking about love love.” Connor’s eyebrows dip even more and Hank has to stop himself form sighing heavily. “Romantic love, Connor, romantic love.”

“Oh…” Connor looks away from him, cheeks turning a slight blue. Hank will never get used to that. “I… don’t know.” Connor looks back over at him. “Do you think I do?”

This time, Hank does sigh, taking a sip of his brandy. “I can’t answer that for you.”

“But you’re asking for a reason,” Connor points out, head tilting in curiosity.

“You just-” Hank starts but stop, not really knowing how to explain it. “It’s just a cop hunch, I guess.”

Connor’s eyes light up and he leans forward in interest. “How would one get a hunch?”

“It just… happens?” Hank answers, watching the android as Connor turns away, deep in thought. “It might just be a human thing, I don’t know.”

“Interesting.” Connor looks over again. “I don’t know if I could replicate that.”

Thrown off by the subject change, Hank shakes his head. “Right, that’s something we’ll have to test out later. Do you think you love Markus, Connor?”

Connor doesn’t answer him right away and instead looks up to the ceiling in thought. “I don’t know,” he finally says, bringing his eyes back to Hank. “I don’t know what love feels like.”

“Well,” Hank starts, trying to remember what it felt like with his wife before everything went to shit. “How you feel about him, is it the same way you feel towards me or Sumo?” Connor shakes his head. “Okay, what about North, Josh, and Simon? Do you feel the same towards them as you do towards Markus?” Again Connor takes a few seconds to think it over before shaking his head. “Then it’s probably a good bet that you love him.”

Connor’s cheeks grow a much more significant blue than before. “What does this mean?”

Hank gets up and pats Connor on the shoulder. “Leave it to me, Kid.” He gives Connor a smile and a curt nod before leaving the room.

*~~~*

“Okay, remember, what are you not going to talk about?” Hank asks as he straightens Connor’s tie. North has set up a trip into the park with Markus and Connor in the disguise of scouting out a destination for a press conference. Instead, they’ll go there and find a picnic waiting for them. Josh had argued the food angle again but North just glared at him and told him it was something to do with aesthetics.

“Work?” Connor says, hesitant. “Hank, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course, it is,” North interrupts before Hank can answer. “One of my best ideas actually. Markus is going to be here soon and Simon and Josh are setting up the picnic. Here.” She holds out a bouquet of flowers. “Give those to Markus. He likes,” she waves her hand dismissively, “naturey things.”

Connor takes the bouquet and holds them close. As the doorbell rings and Connor goes to answer it, Hank pulls North aside. “Did you get a chance to talk to Markus about his feelings towards Connor?”

North squirms. “Uh, kind of.”

Hank waits for the android to elaborate but it never comes. “And?”

“And he shot it down. He’s stubborn. If he doesn’t want to talk about something, he won’t.” North gives him a reassuring smile. “But don’t worry. He feels the same towards Connor, I know it.”

“How are you so sure?” Hank asks her, suspicious.

North shoots him a smile. “Same way you did. A hunch.”

*~~~*

Connor comes home about an hour later, much earlier than Hank had anticipated. “How’d it go?” he asks even before the android has a chance to settle in.

Connor smiles at him. “It went well. We found the perfect spot to have a press conference with plenty of coverage from snipers. It’s going to take place in a week.”

Hank closes his eyes, takes a very deep calming breath, and then opens them again. “You weren’t supposed to talk about work, Connor.”

Connor’s smile melts and Hank almost regrets being the one to cause it (he does truly regret it.) “Oh… I’m sorry Lieutenant.”

“Don’t be sorry just-” Hank scratches at his forehead in frustration. “Did you even have the picnic?”

“Markus thought is was a waste of time.” Connor shrugs, something Hank’s never seen him do before and wonders if he picked it up from him. “He’s very busy, Hank.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Hank throws his arms up in defeat. “It was supposed to be a date, Connor. Something you both could enjoy.”

“But,” Connor starts out slow, confused. “We both did enjoy it. It was a beautiful day out and it made the walk around the park very nice.”

Hank hesitates with his retort. A walk around the park? Even though they talked shop the whole time, technically is was still a date. The two idiot androids just don’t realize that. “You didn’t ask him about his feelings towards you, did you?”

The blush is back on Connor’s cheeks and Hank decides it’s fun putting it there. “No. Josh told me not to.”

“So you’ll listen to him?”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”

Hank dismisses the apology with a wave, not really caring one way or another anymore if Connor and Markus talked about work. As long as the two had fun, that’s all that really matters. “Well, I’m glad you had fun, Kid. One of us deserves to.”

“Maybe next time you could come with us,” Connor suggests.

Hank huffs a laugh. “Trust me, Connor, you don’t want an old, grumpy man like me tagging along on your date.” Connor looks at him, confused, but Hank chooses not to explain. “Come on, I’ve been called into the station. You’re welcome to come with me if you want.”

Connor’s eyes light up. “Of course, Lieutenant!”

*~~~*

They’re next try is sending them off to the aquarium that is on the other side of the city. It’ll take them at least forty-five minutes on the bus to just get there and then hopefully they’ll spend more than just an hour at the aquarium. Granted, the aquarium is full of fake android fish but they do have a special conservatory section for real life sea life that has been endangered for a long time now. Hank thinks the two will love that section.

“No,” Hank begins as he takes Connor’s tie away from him. He’s dressed the android in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt under a button up. “Keep that shirt unbuttoned. Markus will love it, trust me.”

“I don’t know if I should trust you with my fashion, Hank.” Hank furrows his brows and tilts his head in confusion, feeling like he should be insulted. Connor chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave it unbuttoned.”

“Good.” Hank sets the tie aside and looks Connor over. Markus isn’t going to know what hit him. “Now, make sure you visit the conservatory.”

“We will.”

There’s a knock on the door and Hank goes to answer it, letting North in with Markus in tow. “I told you already, Markus, it’s important for research. People aren’t going to accept us unless they know what androids are going to do for them. They already think we destroyed the economy. If we show them that we are willing to help the world, not destroy it, then they are more willing to accept us.”

“Since when were you such an activist?” Markus asks North, following Hank into the living room where Connor stands. He stops dead in his tracks and stares at the other android. “Connor you…” he trails off and Hank has to hold back a smile in success.

“Thank you Markus,” Connor smiles at Markus and Markus blushes a deep blue, looking away.

North slaps him on the back, almost causing Markus to fall over. “The conservatory at the aquarium is the perfect place to do research on the animals and find ways to show the humans that we care.”

Markus squirms where he stands, eyes darting to Connor before looking at North. “Right. Shall we get going?”

“We, as in all of us?” North asks, feigning ignorance.

Markus nods. “Yes, of course. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

North tsks, chuckling slightly. “Oh no, I hate the aquarium.” Markus blinks at her in bewilderment. “Besides, I have other things I need to do.”

“Like what?” Markus asks her.

She shrugs. “Just things.” She leans forward into Markus’ space. “Trust me, Markus, you don’t need to know everything that I do.”

Markus sighs and turns to Hank. “What about you, Lieutenant?”

“Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got to go into work,” he answers.

“You do?” Connor asks. “You never mentioned that.”

Hank internally groans. Sometimes the cluelessness of androids was infuriating. “I’m sure I told you this morning.”

Connor is still staring at him but luckily Markus saves him. “Don’t worry, Connor. You and I can just go.”

Connor’s entire face lights up and it’s the most sickening thing Hank has seen (it’s not.) “Okay, Markus.”

They both leave and North holds out her hand for a high five. Hank looks at it, scowls, and turns away to pour himself a whisky.

*~~~*

This date lasts a lot longer than the previous one, much to Hank’s satisfaction, and when Connor comes home, he’s surprised to see Markus with him. They both are laughing, something Hank doesn’t get to see very often. It’s actually… nice.

Hank approaches the two as they settle onto the couch. “I take it, it went well?”

“Yes, there was a lot of information about all the fish and other sea life there,” Connor says. “Very informative.”

“I think North was right,” Markus adds, turning serious. “I think knowing this stuff will help in our fight for acceptance and equality for androids.”

“Glad it could help.” Hank sips his beer. “You two seemed to enjoy yourselves as well.”

“Yes,” Connor says excitedly. “Markus got splashed by a sea turtle.” Hank didn’t even know there were sea turtles at the aquarium. “It was very amusing.”

Hank chuckles, their good mood starting to rub off on him. “I can see that.”

Markus is chuckling again too, watching Connor intently as Connor goes on to explain exactly how it happened that Markus got splashed by a sea turtle. Hank scrutinizes the other android and the way he is looking at Connor. Hank never would have thought that androids were capable of showing so much emotion in their eyes but he was wrong. Markus is looking at Connor with so much longing, so much love, that it makes Hank’s own heart clench with the pain of it.

Connor turns to Markus, wide smile on his face. “Oh, you should tell Hank about the fish.”

Markus smiles back. “Which one? There were a lot of them there, Connor.”

“The one, you know, the one I befriended.”

“Why am I not surprised that you befriended a fish,” Hank comments.

Markus chuckles. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell him?”

“I want you to do it.” Connor’s own smile softens, radiating affection.

Markus turns to him, barely being able to tear his eyes from Connor. “Connor jumped into one of the tanks.”

“He what!” The whole mood for Hank changes in an instant.

“He swam with an Ocean Sun Fish.” There’s a knock on the door as Markus continues to explain. “Surprisingly, the fish took it well. Kept following Connor around the tank.

Hank stares in disbelief as he goes to answer the door. When he does, there’s a police officer standing there. “Good evening, Lieutenant.”

Hank sighs tiredly.

*~~~*

Simon picks the date this time and tells them there is no way they could mess it up. The two of them are going to go watch a movie, a romantic classic named The Notebook . Hank tries to explain that the movie really isn’t that old, that he was nineteen when the movie came out. Simon just stares at him, as if wanting to say something, but decided not to.

They have to wait a month before they can arrange it. Simon is the one to show up with Markus this time. “You can’t miss it, Markus.” Simon says as soon as he enters Hank’s house. Suddenly, Hank wonders why they always come here to meet up. “This is the only time the theater is showing it for awhile.”

Markus sighs. He sounds tired and Hank wouldn’t blame the android if he was. He’s heard that that the government has been fighting back on some of Markus’ demands and it’s taking up a lot of the android’s time. “Then you all just go without me.”

“No,” Simon says stubbornly. “You need to take a break, Markus.”

“Well, it’ll have to be you three,” Hank says quickly. “I don’t do chick flicks.”

“Then, with no disrespect, Lieutenant, but why did you say you’d go?” Markus questions.

Hank gestures towards Connor. “To get him to agree.”

Markus looks over at Connor, slight panic written on his face. “You’re not going to back out now, too, then are you?”

Connor shakes his head to reassure the other android. “No.”

Markus’ shoulder’s relax in relief. “Okay, maybe you’re right, Simon. I do need a break.”

“See.” Simon pats Markus on the shoulder. “I’m just trying to look out for-” Simon falls silent and pretends to listen. They went over it when they discussed the plan. Simon would fake a call from Josh, something urgent that needs to be taken care of but nothing requiring Markus’ help. It would give him an excuse to miss the movie. Simon pulls off disappointed perfectly. “I’m sorry, Markus, Connor, but it would seem that Josh needs my assistance.”

Markus is frowning. “But you’re the one who wanted to see this.”

“I know but… it sounded kind of urgent.”

Markus starts heading towards the door. “Then maybe I should help.”

“Nope!” Hank quickly stops the android with a hand on his shoulder. “I can help them. Simon already said you needed to take a break and quite frankly, even I can tell you need one. Go, watch the movie, have fun. But just as a warning, Connor is a talker. He’ll be asking you questions about the movie every five seconds.”

“I don’t talk that much do I?” Everyone looks at him but no one answers. Connor frowns.

Hank practically shoves them out the door. “Go!” Markus is looking at him in confusion but does as he’s told. “And stay out of trouble. Connor, don’t you fucking dare do something to make the police show up again, you hear me!? I will not help you next time!” With that, he shuts the door and gives Simon a small, little satisfied nod.

*~~~*

“The movie was very nice, Hank,” Connor tells him as they sit down on the couch, Hank with a bottle of beer and Connor petting Sumo. “I liked it a lot.”

“That’s good, Kid. What about Markus?”

“He told me that he liked it as well.” There’s a pause and Connor looks to the floor in contemplation. Hank allows him to think, not wanting to intrude on his thoughts. “We held hands as we walked back here.”

“That’s fantastic, Connor!” Hank says, a little too enthusiastic than he would normally be. He takes a deep breath, calming himself. “What else happened?”

Connor frowns, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

Hank waits for more but none comes. “You two didn’t… talk about why you were holding hands?”

“No.”

Hank sighs and rubs his face vigorously. “Who initiated the hand holding?”

“Markus.”

“Okay, good. That’s a good sign.” Hank licks his lips, takes a sip of his beer, and then allows the corners of his mouth to pull up slightly in what almost resembles a smirk. “That means we can move onto the next step.”

“The next step?”

“Yep.” Hank stands, already pulling his phone out to call North. “Time to get you kissed.”

*~~~*

The plans have to be put on hold. Markus was holding another press conference about the way the government is denying them rights when he got shot. Luckily it was only in the shoulder but it needs repair and he had bled a lot. Connor fussed, apologizing profusely at his lack of ability to protect Markus as his official bodyguard. Markus has been reassuring Connor for the past half hour that it was fine, that he was only one man, and Markus didn’t expect him to be able to protect him from everything .

Hank, North, Simon, and Josh step aside while Connor stays with Markus while the medical android works on patching Markus up. North claps her hands together. “Alright, how are we going to get those two laid.”

Josh blanches. “Is this really a good time to be discussing that?”

Hank has a different statement to make. “Hold up, I thought we were going to have them kiss.”

“Kiss, sex, same thing,” North dismisses. Hank just stares at her incredulously as she addresses Josh. “Don’t worry Josh, Markus is fine. What I’m not fine with, is continuously having to watch those two idiots pine after each other.”

“I have to be honest,” Simon starts. “I’m getting kind of tired of it too. Markus has even started staring off into space randomly.”

Josh contemplates. “I do suppose if they were official by now, Markus might have been more focused during this press conference and not have gotten shot.”

Hank doubts it but doesn’t say anything. “See? That’s the spirit Josh!” North punches his arm and Josh rubs the spot. “Okay, so, part two in our matchmaking plans. Any ideas?”

“Something romantic,” Simon inputs.

“Something harrowing,” North says.

“What about just a relaxing time together?” Josh asks.

“Uh, guys,” Hank says to get everyone’s attention as he watches the scene behind North’s shoulders. They all look at him expectantly. “I don’t think any of that will be necessary.”

All three of them turn to look at what Hank is watching and gape at the scene. There, over by the medical station, are Connor and Markus making out. “What the fuck?” North exclaims. Simon blushes, looking away, and Josh’s jaw drops.

Hank chuckles. “I guess we don’t have to worry about it anymore.” With a pat to North’s shoulder, Hank walks away, deciding to leave the three in shock, and Connor and Markus at it.

*~~~*

Hank comes home from work one night to Connor cooking. Connor never cooks. Suspiciously, Hank looks over Connor’s shoulder. “What are you making and why?”

“I am making you an all American burger.” Hank makes an appreciative sound to that. “I read that it is a classic favorite among human Americans.”

“I won’t argue with that.” Hank pours himself a glass of rum and sips it. “And why are you cooking for me?”

Connor shrugs, a movement that still throws Hank off. “I felt like it.” He turns to face Hank, spatula clutched in his hand and cheeks a light blue. “Markus is also coming over. I hope that is okay.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He watches as Connor places the burger on a bun and then starts to garnish it with ketchup, lettuce, tomato, onions, bacon, etc. Once done, Connor hands over the plate. “Do I need to make myself scarce?”

“Why would you?” Connor asks as the doorbell rings.

“No reason,” Hank comments, smirk fully in place.

Connor looks at him in confusion before answering the door and letting Markus in. Hank greets him and Markus says hello back. “I hope you don’t mind me coming to spend some time with Connor, Lieutenant.

Hank shakes his head and sits down at the kitchen table. “Of course, not.”

Both Connor and Markus stand there awkwardly before Connor finally asks Markus, “Do you want anything?”

“I don’t eat or drink,” Markus says before blushing. He clears his throat. “I mean… sorry, thank you for the offer.”

Connor seems to be unfazed by Markus’ comment and instead smiles at him. “You’re welcome, Markus.”

They both begin standing there awkwardly again until Hank finally butts in, finishing his burger and drink. “Why don’t you two go put on a movie or something. I have some work to do out here.”

They both nod and begin to make their way to the living room when Hank calls Markus back. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

Hank stands and leans in close to Markus. “If you hurt him, android rights will be the last thing you have to worry about. Do you understand me?”

Hank watches as Markus swallows nervously and nods his head quickly. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I love him. I won’t hurt him.”

Hank sits back, sitting down in the chair again. “Good.” They stare at each other for a few seconds before Hank motions towards the living room. “Go on, before he wonders where you are.”

Markus nods again and Hank watches him leave. Never in his dreams would he have thought he’d ever care about androids so much, especially after what happened with Cole. But somehow, more than one of them has managed to worm their way into his heart. Specifically Connor. He cares about Connor a lot, like his own son, and he wants to protect him with everything he’s got.

But in the end, he knows Markus is good for Connor. Markus was the one who finally managed to get Connor to change his mind about what androids are all about (though Hank likes to take some credit as well, of course.) Hank wonders if it was love at first sight for Connor, not that Hank believes in that shit. At least, not anymore. He had thought he had loved his wife the moment he laid eyes on her, too, but that ended in disaster. All he can do is hope that it’ll be different for Connor and Markus.

Somehow, he truly does believe it will.

Smiling to himself, Hank pulls out some of the work he brought home with him. He feels it in his gut that this thing between Markus and Connor will last. That it’s some kind of cheesy epic love that Hank usually grimaces at. But with those two, with those two his heart warms instead of feeling disgusted. They deserve it. They deserve the happiness and love the two can give each other. And Hank is truly happy for them.

With his heart all warm and fuzzy (for once), Hank stands from his place at the table. “Come on, Sumo.” The old dog slowly gets up and follows Hank into the living room. “Hey you two, mind if a joi-” Hank stops dead in his tracks, mid sentence. There, on the couch, are two completely naked androids, one on top of the other. And when Hank says naked, he means naked . No clothes, no… no skin. Hank is so surprised at first that he stands there gaping like an idiot. Until reality strikes. Until his brain finally registers what’s going on. Until his brain registers what’s going on with his son .

“What the fuck!”

———————————————————————————————————–

A/N: Thanks for reading!

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor

Rating: M

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4964

Summary: Simon is on a blind date, but there’s this guy who keeps catching his attention. Based on “I’m going to save you from this bad date” request from @krisrix and “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” by Arctic Monkeys.

Read on AO3

AN: Hello, I am back after a reluctant prolonged absence. My health has been in the shitter. Bad headaches, little sleep, and low energy all suck. This is M rated to be safe but there isn’t really anything explicit, just implied sex and a lot of horniness lol. Hopefully you all like it :D (Edit for Tumblr: something fucked up and deleted the read more break. I'm on my phone rn but I'll fix it when I get home. Sorry!)

———————————————

Simon

“This is a terrible idea,” I say again.

“It is not,” Penny replies, plucking lint off my shirt. “My friend says she’s really sweet and you two might get along.”

“And that matters because…?”

“Because you can’t stay cooped up at home. Time for you to go out and meet the world.” I blow air between my lips. “Don’t do your horse impression in front of her.”

I narrow my eyes. “Is setting me up on a blind date a way to vicariously fix your romantic life by fixing mine?”

“No, Mr. I Took One Psych Course.” I keep glaring at her. Penny’s shoulders fall slightly. “Okay, maybe. But I also think you two might be a good fit. So at least give it a shot, alright?”

I sigh heavily, shoving my hands in my pockets. “One drink.”

She grins brightly. “Awesome. I’ll be waiting back at the flat. Don’t stay too late.”

“I won’t. Bye, Pen.” 

“Bye, Si.” She presses a kiss to my cheek then walks off smiling. 

The second she’s out of sight, I slump forward with a groan. I don’t think she heard the resignation in my voice. Honestly, I really don’t want to do this. But I’m doing this for Penny, because she’s sad and I love her.

Ever since Micah broke up with her (arsehole), Penny has put the excess energy she used to waste on him into other things, including me. Guess if she can’t have a partner, she wants me to have one. Sure, I wouldn’t mind being with someone, it just hasn’t been a priority between uni and my mental health. Both are still not really great. I should be studying or something, but Pen says one night away won’t kill my GPA. She’s rarely ever wrong, hope she isn’t now. Hope this isn’t a total disaster…

I walk up to the nightclub door. It’s neon purple with a burly man at the entrance. I gulp down the lump in my throat. God, why am I so nervous? It’s just a date. This won’t kill me. I can do this. I won’t burst into flames no matter how much it feels like I will any fucking moment.

The burly man looks at me, the weirdo just standing six feet away from the door. “You going in or what, kid?”

I nod furiously. “Yeah, yeah, I am.”

He holds out his hand. “Fifteen pounds, please.”

My eyes bug out. I expect him to start laughing, but he stays stone faced. “Fifteen bloody quid?! Are you kidding me?!”

“Nope. Pay up or leave.”

I growl and pull out my wallet. I slap the bills in his hand. “Fucking rip off.”

“I don’t make the rules, mate.” He puts the money in his back pocket and lifts the black velvet rope. “Welcome to Club Violet.”

“Thanks,” I grumble. Fifteen fucking quid. What am I, the Queen?

Club Violet absolutely lives up to its name. The whole place is different shades of glowing purple. It’s like if Queen Victoria opened a royal dance club. People shake and jump in a huge sweaty clump on the main dance floor while techno pop blares around us. It’s actually a pretty good song. Wish it wasn’t so loud though. There’s metal stairs with a chrome railing leading to the upper level. I check my texts again. Okay, so she’ll be at the upper bar, wearing a shiny pink dress. Cool, cool, I can find her.

I push through some giggling dancers and a couple snogging against the wall to get to the stairs. The top level is less crowded, mostly just people talking with their heads very close together. They’re smiling, giggling, kissing. They look happy. My heart aches a bit. Huh, I actually miss that, more than I thought than I did. This might not be such a bad idea.

The bar is nestled at the back of the floor. Bartenders in posh black shirts and vests shake those silver shakers I’ve seen in Bond movies. And at the front of the bar, stirring a margarita is a blonde woman in a bright pink, sparkly dress. Okay, deep breath, you can do this.

I walk towards her, head held high. I stand next to her. She has a pretty face and golden brown eyes. Let’s hope this goes well.

“Uh, hi,” I say with only a little nervous hitch. “Agatha, right?”

She turns her head. Her mouth pulls up slightly. Not a smile, but almost, I guess. “Yeah. And you’re Simon?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

We stand in awkward silence for awhile. My body and mouth feel utterly paralyzed with unsureness. She seems just as confused. Guess it’s been a very long time for both of us. I stumble forward onto a cushy violet stool.

“You wanna drink?” I ask.

Agatha holds up her barely empty margarita. “I think I’ll finish this one first, thank you.”

My cheeks heat up. I hope they’re not visible under the lowlight. “Uh, y-yeah, makes sense. I guess I’ll get one just for me then…” 

I wave at the bartender. They walk over with an extremely fake customer service smile. “How may I help you?”

“Can I get a…um…” I look at the drinks menu. It’s filled with weird punny names with liquors I don’t know. It makes my head hurt. I slap the menu down on the counter. “Pint of Guinness, please?”

“Sure, coming up,” they say and walk off. 

I turn to Agatha with a sheepish smile. “I like to keep things simple.”

“I can see that.” She takes a sip of her margarita. Her lipstick is a nice shade of soft pink. She has good taste in makeup at least.

“So, um, Pen mentioned you were in third year at University of London. What program are you doing?”

“Veterinary medicine at the royal college.”

“Oh wow, that’s cool. You wanna be a vet?”

She nods, swirling the drink in her hand. A small smile plays on her mouth for the first time. “Yeah. I hope to take care of horses.”

A small shiver runs down my spine. “Wow, um…sounds interesting.”

Her head tilts to the side in confusion. “Something wrong?”

“No, no. It sounds amazing. I just don’t have a good history with horses.” Her eyebrows pull together. “A police horse nearly trampled me when I was seven. Been a bit jittery around them ever since.”

Agatha nods thoughtfully. “Hm, I see. You probably did something to provoke the horse though, they don’t hurt people for no reason.”

My cheeks heat up, but from embarrassment unfortunately. “Oh…you’d know better than me I guess…”

Agatha takes a long sip of her drink in lieu of words. My pint of Guinness arrives on time. I take two big gulps, reveling in the distracting burn. I try to look literally anywhere else. There’s a neon purple flower on the wall. I see three people dancing together, smiling and laughing. I’m not usually a fan of dancing but they look like they’re having fun. I spot on a presumed couple sipping on the same fancy cocktail together. My eyes flick to Agatha. She’s staring straight ahead, totally uninterested in me. So y gaze keeps drifting, until it meets someone else’s. And I nearly choke on my beer.

Holy fucking shit, he’s staring at me. A gorgeous guy with reddish-gold skin, wavy black hair, and piercing grey eyes is looking right at me with a devilish smirk on his lips. He’s wearing  very fitting black skinny jeans and a short sleeved dark shirt. Well, technically he’s wearing a shirt, but it’s unbuttoned all the way to his navel so I don’t know if it counts. His beautiful eyes wander over me again and again, smirk slowly growing. Why is he staring at me? What the hell makes me so interesting? Is it getting hotter in here?

“Simon?”

I snapped back to reality from the deep sea grey induced daze. “What?”

Agatha’s brow is all pulled together. I can’t tell if it’s out of confusion or concern. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, I-I’m fine.” I take another drink of my beer. “So, what else do you like?”

Agatha shrugs and goes back to looking at her drink. “I play lacrosse.”

“Yeah? Is that fun?”

“It is, until someone shoves you to the ground.”

I let out a small laugh. Agatha does the same, but quickly goes back to stirring her drink with a neutral expression. “What do you do? For fun, that is.”

“Um, some stuff…” I scratch my chin. This is harder than I thought. “I like gaming, fencing, baking, watching Dr. Who. That’s pretty much it.”

“Baking sounds fun.”

“Yeah it is!” I turn towards her with the brightest grin. “I’m learning this new technique for making scones. It makes a much lighter pastry, but it’s hard to get the same flavour, y’know? I’m trying to figure out how to compensate for that. I’ve been trying fresh ingredients, pure oils, lots of stuff. But really-”

I stop when I realise Agatha is looking at me with utter confusion. Right, not everyone understands baking science, or wants to know. I turn away from her and drink down the rest of my beer. It won’t help though. First year uni gave me quite a tolerance. I stare at the empty glass, swishing around the last bits of foam.

“So, how’s school going?” That’s a safe question, right?

“Oh it’s going fine.” Agatha replies. “There’s actually this one class I’m taking.”

She starts talking about her animal biology class. I try to listen, I really do, but my attention span is notoriously short. My eyes drift, and soon fall on raven hair.

The man isn’t staring at me anymore. He’s looking off to the side. I tilt my head slightly to the side. He’s talking to someone, a red haired man with a sly smile. They’re giggling and whispering together. My stomach feels weird. Must’ve had something bad for lunch. My eyes drag over him more carefully this time. He’s quite thin. Wait, no, not thin, lean. There’s strong muscles in his calves and upper arms, and his stomach looks very tight. I wonder how he got those. Football maybe? I could see that. Him running across the field at lightspeed, stealing the ball easily with his strong legs, flying across the field with ruthless grace. Part of me just really wants to see how he moves.

My eyes move back, only to meet Gorgeous Guy’s. Oh fuck, he’s looking right at me again. I can feel myself blush as I go rigid. His mouth pulls into that smirk again. It fits too perfectly on his sharp face, like he was designed to look so cocky and beautiful at the same time. My face feels so fucking hot right now. Damn clubs, no air conditioning.

“And that’s why you have to be very careful when treating young horses.” I refocus back on Agatha’s voice. She’s looking at me, gesturing with one and stirring the margarita with the other. I nod thoughtfully like I’m not an arsehole and I’ve been paying attention this whole time.

“That’s really cool, yeah,” I say. “You’re really into this stuff.”

“Of course, it’s my future career.”

My cheeks go redder. Between Agatha and Gorgeous Guy, I’m pretty much a tomato by now. “R-Right, course.”

We stare at each other. The awkwardness is so thick you could slice it in half. God, why am I so much worse at this than normal? My normal is pretty shit so that’s a real feat. There’s no flow or spark. I don’t think this is working at all. But I don’t know how to leave without being a total dickhead. What could I even say?  “Sorry but I don’t find you interesting enough to keep talking to you, I have to go.” ’ Instead I’m silent as a statue and more awkward than a fourteen year old at a school dance.

Agatha is drinking down the last of her margherita. I look pointedly away from her. And my eyes happen drift back to the guy. He’s still with the ginger bloke. It’s hard to tell if they’re talking or dancing. Maybe it’s both. Gorgeous Guy’s thin lips are moving slowly. His hips are swaying slightly, the curves of his body showing well through the tight jeans. I’m  fixated by the way he moves. It’s seamless and graceful yet so strong. He looks good dancing, even just a little. I wonder how he’d look if he was truly moving to the beat, swaying his lean body with purpose. He’s not looking at me this time. I kinda wish he would, honestly.

“I’m going to the toilet,” Agatha announces. She’s out of her seat and walking away before I can get a word out. Alright then.

I look at my glass, rolling the remaining foam back and forth. My mind is being way too chaotic for me to think straight, so I’m trying not to think at all. I just watch the white bubbles, back and forth, back and forth, just like that guy’s hips. I wonder-

“Hello,” a smooth voice says to my right. “How are you?”

I turn my head and nearly choke on my own tongue. It’s him. Gorgeous Guy. He’s standing right there, leaning against the bar with his hip cocked out, looking at me with that smirk and dazzling eyes. And I’m completely frozen.

“H-Hi,” I finally get out. “I’m, uh, fine. H-How are you?”

“I’m alright. May I ask you something?”

“Um, sure.”

“Are you on a date with the woman who just left?”

I scratch at my wrist, looking to the side in the vain hope he doesn’t see my blush. “Uh, sort of, I guess.”

The guy raises an eyebrow without moving any other part of his face. It’s very impressive. “Usually that’s a yes or no question.”

“Yeah, I know,” I chuckle awkwardly. “We’re supposed to be on a blind date, but I don’t think it’s going well.”

“Hm, yes, I assumed that when you kept staring at me over her shoulder.”

As if I wasn’t a tomato face before. I think my flush has reached the bottom of my neck. My mouth opens and closes like a stranded fish. His smirk only becomes more smug, and I find it so annoyingly attractive.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry, that was rude a-and objectifying and I-”

“Did I say I disliked it? Remember, I made eyes at you first.” All the blood in my body rushes straight to my face. Gorgeous Guy leans closer. His long fingertips are nearly touching mine. “My name is Baz. What’s yours?”

“Simon.”

“Simon,” he echoes in his much,  much  sexier voice. “That’s a very pretty name.”

“T-Thanks. Your name is nice too.”

“Thank you.” Baz’s head tilts further to the side, showing off his long, graceful neck. “So, if your date is not going well, would you mind if I wanted to whisk you away from here?”

My eyes go wide and my heart starts beating double time. I’m not sure if it’s from the fear or the thrill of the idea. Do I really want that? When I look at Baz, all of him, I do. But could I do that to Agatha? Just because I’m not attracted to her doesn’t mean I should ditch her.

“Um, I-I do,” I say, “but I gotta go do something first. Wait here, please? I promise I’ll be back in a minute.”

Baz blinks rapidly. He looks like a very confused deer in the headlights.“Alright…”

With only a little fear, I reach forward and put my hand over his. He inhales sharply, and I swear, even in the lowlight, I see a blush on his face. “I just need to tell her I’m cutting the date short. I don’t wanna be a total arsehole. One minute and I’m all yours, I promise.”

That smirk comes back, but there’s something softer in his eyes. Less dagger like, more a pretty cloud on an overcast day. “Alright. One minute, I’ll hold you to that.”

I grin brightly. “Awesome.”

I squeeze his hand, and surprisingly, he squeezes back. I take one last look at him before dashing off like a madman.

I’m very lucky that in a dark club like this, the toilet signs have to be very bright to see. The woman’s toilet is on the far left of the upper deck. Not too far, but there’s a crowd of people between me and my destination. I push through the other night club goers, some wobbling, most swearing at me. Unfortunately I can’t explain to them that I need to tell my blind date that our date has to end so I can go hang out with an incredibly handsome man who for some reason is attracted to me. I’m not sure I could explain this to anyone and sound sane. I don’t care. Baz is waiting for me back at the bar. I’ll push through every one of these people to get back to him.

When I reach the toilet, I immediately spot a pink dress near the wall. Agatha is bent over her phone, blue light illuminating her pensive face. She’s typing really fast. I speed walk like a bloody madman.

“Agatha!” I call out. Her head snaps up.

“Oh, Simon,” she says, sounding far more shocked than I thought she would be.

“Hey, hey, sorry for barging up. Just, uh, we need to talk.”

“Okay…”

I scratch the back of my neck like some awkward teenager. “Um, look, I’m sorry I’m being an arsehole. You’re nice and very pretty, but I don’t think this date is working out. We’re just not…clicking, I guess. Which sucks but it’s alright. I-I just hope we can still be friends…”

Agatha blinks a few times at me. I wait for her to storm off or yell or something. Instead, she just smiles softly and nods. “Alright, yeah. I agree. I don’t think we’re a good fit as a couple.”

All of the tension drains from my body. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I think you’re nice too, but it’s not going to work out. Maybe friends could better.”

“Yeah, yeah definitely. Wanna get coffee sometime? As friends?”

“I’d like that.” Her phone buzzes. She looks down and sighs. “I have to go. My friend Minty is here to pick me up.”

“Oh, okay.” The gears start turning in my head, and my eyebrows pull together. “Wait, were you just going to leave?”

Agatha looks down, probably to hide the embarrassed expression on her face. “Honestly, yeah. I didn’t want to make things awkward. I’m not good at saying goodbye to people…”

I’ll admit, it hurts a bit. But I also get it. I hated saying anything as a kid, especially something awkward. And I don’t think it’s my place to berate her right now. I nod slowly. “Alright. Well, hope you have a good rest of your night.”

“You too.” She goes towards the stairs. One step down though, she looks over her shoulder with a little smile on her lips. “Have fun with that bloke. He looks cute.”

Before I can answer, she’s off down the staircase. My face is going to get stuck blushing this much. After only a moment of shock though, I dash back in the direction of the bar. I’ve never been more nervous than I have been speed walking back there. But when I see Baz, with his hips against the bar, fiddling with his phone, I sigh in utter relief.

I take a deep breath, trying to hide just how out of breath and eager I am. Be cool, Simon, be cool. I walk towards with what I hope is a badass swaggering walk. Bloody hell, I hope I don’t look stupid. I really hope I don’t fuck this up.

“Hey,” I say, “I’m back.”

Baz’s head snaps up. I like the way his hair falls in a lazy wave, like a waterfall made from raven wings. (That poetry book Penny got me for Christmas has really expanded my metaphors, wow.) That softer, nicer smirk comes back. I love it more than the arrogant one, actually.

“One minute and thirty eight seconds,” he replies in a playful tone. “You’re late.”

I chuckle and rub my neck. “Sorry. There’s a lot of people here.”

“I’m aware. I’ve been looking through them all night.” His fingertips touch mine, sending jolts up my entire arm. “Until you caught my eye like no else did.”

“Really?” My heart rate is going nuts. It’s not arrogant, well, not totally. Everyone’s a little vain, after all.

“Mhm.” His hand moves slowly up my arm, stopping just above my wrist. “Blue eyes, bronze curls, tawny skin with constellations of freckles and moles. You were like the sun in this dark nightclub. How could I not be entranced?”

“O-oh.” All words have fled my tongue. Baz’s sweet voice and words have melted my brain into pure mush.

Baz’s hand moves further. His thumb traces tiny, wonderful circles on my upper forearm. He’s got these slight calluses that I can’t get enough of. “You have no idea how much I wanted to come up and talk to you right away.”

I pout slightly. “Why didn’t you?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. I like the way his hair moves. “Because you were  with someone, Simon. I didn’t notice her until after you started talking to her again. I wasn’t going to be that arse who stole someone’s date.”

“And yet you offered to whisk me away a few minutes ago.”

“Well,” he sighs, tracing patterns lazily on the inside of my elbow, “I tried to ignore you, I really did, but my eyes kept drifting to you. I didn’t think your date was going well but I still wasn’t going to intrude. I distracted myself instead.”

I frown deeply. “That redhead bloke.”

“Yes, Lamb. He approached me but I welcomed him.” His face becomes sly and devilish. The expression is eerily, like his face was made for scheming. “Were you jealous?”

I gulp down a large lump in my throat, unintentionally biting down on my bottom lip. From the way Baz watches my mouth I think he likes it quite a bit. “Maybe a little…”

“Mm, good to know.” Baz tilts his head, showing off that damn neck again. Is he doing that on purpose? “I’ll admit I was jealous. I desperately wished to be in your date’s place. When I glanced over a few times, I saw things may not have been going well. So when she left…”

“You jumped at the chance?”

“Precisely.”

I grin ear to ear. It’s strange to think I’d be so wanted by someone that they’d wait to talk to me, but I don’t  dislike it. Especially when they’re as pretty as Baz. I move forward this time, touching his forearm. His hands may be rough, but the rest of his skin is impossibly soft.

“I’m glad you did,” I say quietly. “I’m glad I got to meet you.”

Baz smiles too. It’s not arrogant, but genuinely happy and bright. “Me too. I thought you were gorgeous, but now I also know that you’re the kind of guy to make sure he says goodbye to his blind date, even when it didn’t work out. Who knew the gorgeous man would turn out to be kind too?”

Once  again, I am lost for words. I mean, what do you say to that? Glad you noticed? Arrogant. You too? Weird. Thank you? I guess, still feels awkward. It seems me gaping mouth is good enough for Baz, because he’s still smiling. He brings up his other hand and traces his rough thumb on my chin, just under my bottom lip. Dear Lord, I really want him to move it a little bit up.

“So I’m wondering,” he drawls, “if you would be so kind as to do something for me.”

“What?” I almost say  “anything,” but that’s just a little too desperate.

“Would you please follow me downstairs? Because ever since I saw you, I’ve thought about how lovely you would look on the dance floor.”

Is my brain dribbling out my ears? Because it bloody well feels like it. Baz’s skin may be cold but he’s burning me to a crisp. And I really don’t mind. 

“I-I can’t dance,” I whisper. I want him to know what a mess he’s getting into when he’s with me.

“No matter.” His thumb actually touches my lip. A harsh, beautiful shudder moves through my spine. “I bet you’ll still look gorgeous.” He tugs on my wrist with his other hand. “Shall we?”

All I can do is nod. Baz grins devilishly. He slowly weaves our fingers together one by one. Every touch threatens to make me burst into flames. “Then let’s go.”

Baz pulls me forward, and I happily trail behind him. We zig zag through all the sweaty people and soar down the spiral stairs. There’s some sort of techno remix of an eighties song. The singer keeps singing about a girl named Rio. (Weird name, but I don’t think I can talk much considering my last name is Snow.) Baz pulls us deep into the throng of dancing people. He finds us a small space in the middle of all of it. At first I think it’s too small, but when Baz presses almost his entire body against me, I quickly get the point. He puts his arms around my waist. I’m completely frozen.

“I still don’t know how to dance,” I shout in his ear.

Baz leans forward. His hot breath caresses my skin. “Put your arms on my shoulders, then follow me. It’s really easy. You just have to sway.”

I gulp and nod. I place my hands on his shoulders. They’re a bit boney but very nice. Baz slowly starts moving side to side. His hips move absolutely beautifully. He has perfect rhythm. He slowly sways to the thumping bass of the song while holding onto me tight, pressing us together so close. I can feel every part of him against every part of me. My eyes are glued to my hands on his shoulders. I’m pretty sure my entire fucking body is blushing now.

“You can move too,” Baz says. “Just follow me.”

I nod, even though I’m still unsure. I look down at his hips (holy fuck he’s hot) and try to copy him. Slowly, I move side to side, following him as best I can. I’m not as smooth and graceful as him of course. Baz helps, silently guiding me with his hands. We start moving in near perfect sync. And it feels absolutely amazing. Holy shit, is this grinding? I’ve never done it before, so if this is it, it’s bloody great.

My chest feels tight and breath is short, but in a good way. The fear and nerves are fading bit by bit. Slowly, I finally look away from my hand. I look at Baz’s face, and god, why haven’t I been looking at him the whole time? He looks even more gorgeous. The strobe lights perfectly illuminate the deep angles of his face. His hair falls in his face in a beautiful lazy wave. His eyes are absolutely dazzling, and they’re completely focused on me. He looks so good, somehow even better than before. My gaze flicks down to Baz’s lips. They’re hanging slightly open. The violet lights catch on them again and again. I can’t stop looking, and I don’t really want to.

I look up again, meeting Baz’s beautiful eyes. He’s looking down as well at  my mouth. God, I want him to be thinking the same thing I am. My arms quickly wrap around his neck, fingers pressing into his soft skin. Baz inhales sharply. For a second I worry he’s going to shove me away. But instead, I feel him pull my waist even closer, fingers digging into my back through my t-shirt. Our faces are inches apart, moving closer without us even realising it. My nose touches his, just barely. We’re breathing the same air. Maybe, just maybe…. Oh, fuck it.

I lean forward and press my mouth to Baz’s.

It takes less than a second for Baz to kiss me back. There’s zero pretense or nervousness. We move our lips fervently, mutual desire completely obvious. Baz sticks his tongue down my throat at the same time I tug harshly on his hair. Thank god the music is too loud for anyone to hear our groans. He bites down on my bottom lip and I feel like I’m fucking melting and exploding and dying. I kiss him like it’s a fight, and he doesn’t give an inch. We match so well. It’s perfect.  He’s perfect. God, I’m drowning in him, but I don’t want to come up for air.

Baz eventually, sadly, pulls away. He keeps his face close to mine. I study all the different colours in his eyes. I could do that forever.

“Want to get out of here?” he says. “I think I’d like to see you somewhere other than the dance floor now.”

I nod immediately. “Yeah, definitely, let’s go.”

Baz grins. It’s a mix between devilish charm and genuine giddy excitement. He grabs my hand, then we push through the throngs of people even faster than before. I can’t stop grinning for even a second.

We hop in a cab heading towards Canary Wharf. Baz takes me up to his flat, pins me down on his king sized bed, and proves once again that he is incredible with his hips. 

All in all, a fantastic night.

———————————————

AN: Needless to say, a spring in Baz’s mattress breaks. Hope you liked it! Simon was a bit of an ass, yeah, but imo so is Agatha. In my mind they meet up later and talk properly without pressure to date awkwardness and they become really good friends. In the end they’re both happy. I liked writing this because I love the prompt and I love the song. Arctic Monkeys fucking rule. Hopefully my next fic will be out soon. Have a good day!

[emersondarling]

Camille Attacks. Again.

Fandom: Mortal Intruments/Shadowhunters

Pairing: Raphael/Simon (Saphael)

Word Count: 1861

Requested: No

Summary: This takes place after the Mortal War and the vampires of Hotel Dumort, Luke's pack, Magnus, and some Shadowhunters have a meeting at Jade Wolf when an attack takes place. Camille is leading it and wants to kill Luke and his pack for killing some of her followers. She takes her rouge vampire followers and portals to the headquarters with the intent of killing the werewolves and claiming her "rightful" place as clan leader.

Notes: Sorry it's long and the ending is trash. I ran out of ideas. :)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The sun was sinking below the horizon, which meant that it was time to go out hunting. Raphael sat comfortably on the couch, reading, with Simon's head on his shoulder. It was peaceful and quiet in the hotel, unusual considering the clan that lived in it was noisy and boisterous. He should've known the silence wouldn't last.

"Raphael," Lily said from behind them. "Luke and the Shadowhunters want to meet at the werewolves' hideout, Jade Wolf, to talk. He said it's casual, but there's a problem."

He sighed inwardly. Just one day without interruptions was all he wanted. But he nodded and told her to get the clan ready to leave. Simon stood up tiredly and stretched.

"I just want to stay here." he groaned.

"Duty calls," Raphael responded, a bit annoyed as well.

He threw on one of Simon's black, oversized lgbtq+ pride hoodies and walked around the hotel yelling in Spanish to get their asses moving.

At last, the clan was ready. Most of them dressed in hoodies and tired.

"Why do we HAVE to go," whined Elliot as he took a sip of his coffee-blood mixture. "It's to early, or well late, for this!"

"Cause we want to show we are allies with them, and we are dependable," reasoned Phoenix.

"You're supposed to be on my side," he groaned back.

"Phoenix is right, Elliot. Besides, we are already going," commented Simon.

"You're the only one they like," Zeke stated.

"Well, they are going to have to like you," Simon started. "You are all my family so they can put up with it. We are leaving, yes?"

At the word family, many vampires smiled. Simon has moved into Dumort after the war and so far had stayed about a year getting used to his new family.

Raphael nodded. "Let's go."

They all walked at mundane speed, not wanting to overuse their energy on speed. When they reached the bar, many werewolves glanced at them. Their eyes lingered on their clothing before hastily looking away.

"Do we look that bad?" asked Elliot jokingly.

Lily shook her head, her magenta hair pulled up in messy bun. "We are usually dressed up, you know? Raphael in his suits and stuff. Now, we probably look like a bunch of college students that have their first class at 8."

Finally they reached the back of the bar, where Luke was leaning against door frame, talking to someone in the room.

"Werewolf," Raphael stated.

Luke turned towards the clan with a surprised look on his face, which he quickly hid.

"Wonderful of you to join us on such late notice. Everyone else is in here."

He gestured to the room that was on his other side. Raphael nodded and moved forwards into the room, his clan at his heels. It was an spacious room with pale beige walls. There were dark brown chairs clustered by the walls and a huge matching table in the center.

He first saw the Shadowhunters. Clary, Jace, Isabelle, Alec, and Jocelyn sitting in the furthest left corner. Then Magnus, who had an arm draped around his boyfriend's shoulder. When they say him, they looked just as surprised as Luke. Even Jace couldn't hide his shock. Magnus just smiled.

Raphael took a seat towards the middle of the wall and let his family spread out beside him. Simon took a seat to Raphael's right with Elliot on the other side of him. Lily sat on Raphael's left with Honor next to her.

Luke has started talking. "My pack had just fought in a large battle yesterday..." He trailed off before sighing and continuing. "against vampires."

When the words had left his lips, the vampires, excluding Raphael and Simon, were on their feet glaring at Luke.

"Are you blaming us?" snarled Lily, eye's ablaze. "I'll let you know-"

Simon cut her off softly. "Lil, I'm sure he's not blaming us. It's a peaceful meeting. Please sit down, hermana."

She looked at Luke once more before sitting down, angry. The other vampires were still tensed but sat also.

"I don't blame you for anything," Luke continued slowly. "There's just something about that group. They knew where we were and who was with us because they planned their numbers and strengths strategically. I was wondering if u happened to know who."

The vampires looked uneasy while Raphael and Simon shared glances. Before anyone could speak up, Magnus suddenly tensed and shot up from his seat.

"There's a portal open," he said.

The Shadowhunters scrambled to their feet, drawing their weapons. Luke strode out to the main bar area and within seconds the pack that was there was beside him.

Luke walked to the door leading to the courtyard, hand on the knob. He glanced back at his pack before opening the door and running through. He stopped in the middle of the courtyard. A couple yards away, a vibrant blue portal shone. The only other lights were the ones scattered around the courtyard.

The Manhattan clan moved to the left of the pack while Magnus and the Shadowhunters stayed behind the downworlders groups, ready to fight.

A familiar figure strutted though the newly open portal. Camille. Behind her, at least 100 more vampires, some carrying weapons, followed her. She raised her right hand, and a beaten up warlock with an obvious lion tail held out his hands. Blinding light shot from them, and a green glowing wall was created behind and around the werewolves and vampires, cutting them off from the Shadowhunters, Magnus, and the outside world. (Basically a big wall around the vampires and werewolves, with enough room to fight)

"Wonderful to see you all again," she laughed, her smile taunting. She clapped slowly. "It's too bad that the werewolves just fought a battle huh, Lucian."

At that, Luke snarled but not liking the odds. He only had half of his pack, and unfortunately Camille was right about them recovering. They couldn't fight without being absolutely slaughtered. The Shadowhunters behind him couldn't help, and Magnus was unsuccessfully trying to break the wall.

"And you," she turned to face Raphael. "Step down. I should be clan leader."

His eyes narrowed. "And let you kill more mundanes? Absolutely not."

She sighed. "Well, I'll deal with you later. I'll just kill the werewolves then we can discuss our...positions."

The blonde haired vampire turned back to Luke, baring her fangs. Before she could attack or order an attack, Simon used his speed to place himself in front of Luke.

"I won't let you," he said bravely.

"Oh poor you," Camille stated boredly. "you'll just be killed also."

When the words had left her lips, the vampires all tensed.

Lily snarled, "Keep your filthy hands off of our fledgling." The clan and nodded in agreement, baring their fangs warningly.

"Who's going to stop me? You?" she asked, smirking. "You have no control over the clan."

"Si, but I do." Raphael's voice rang out, and he made his way casually to Simon's side.

Camille laughed tauntingly. "Why protect them? In the end, it won't matter. Step aside."

"I stand for what I believe. The one time I didn't, I lost my first life." Raphael's gaze was calm, but pure fire raged in his eyes. "I refuse to step aside. You'll have to make me."

"You'll have to make us," added Lily. She walked towards the werewolves to stand besides her leader and the Daylighter. The other vampires spread out protectively in front of Luke's werewolf clan, creating a loose, staggered wall between them and Camille.

Camille's confident smirk turned into a cold snarl.

"You stand with the werewolves after they took everything away from you? You know, it didn't have to end like this." She tilted her head to the side. "You could have just stepped down from your position and let me kill them but no. It always has to end in blood, huh. Well, no matter. I shall be the clan leader, and I will lead the vampires out of the shadows. The legacy you fought so hard to keep is over, Raphael Santiago. So much for being a saint."

With that she waved her hand at the opposing vampires and werewolves. "Kill them all."

Clary screamed out for Simon and Luke while Magnus merely whispered Raphael's name.

Both sides clashed into one mob of blood and snarling. Raphael, Simon, and half the clan shot forward to meet the other side while the other half stood protectively in front of the pack.

Raphael sprinted forward and ducked as a vampire lunged at him, fangs extended. He swiftly drew a dagger and brought it up in an arch. The blade stabbed his stomach. Raphael jerked it up till it reached his heart and the vampire exploded into dust. Another bulkier one advanced in front of him, and he could sense two from behind. He darted forwards, jumping on the one in front of him. He used him as a surface and back flipped over the ones behind him, giving him time to see what weapons they had.

He used his speed to drop down and hurriedly rammed the already bloodied dagger in her heart from behind. The other turned and sliced downwards with a golden sword. He dodged, flipping to the side and kicking her feet from beneath her. Her grip loosened and he grabbed the sword with his other hand and stabbed. All around him the battle raged on. Though they were outnumbered, his clan was quicker and smarter.

A tall boy, who looked around 17, had targeted Simon and threw a punch. Raphael's training kicked in. Simon bolted towards him and locked the vampire's outstretched arm in his own. Simon turned and flipped him over his shoulder. He slammed into multiple enemies before reaching the border and finally collapsing.

He felt small hands grab his shoulders and a cold breath in his neck. Before she could bite him, she was thrown off. Now, he was back to back with Raphael. The clan leader pushed a dagger into his hand.

"Be careful, idiota. Te amo."

Simon nodded back. "Don't get blood on my favorite sweatshirt."

By the time Raphael and Simon bumped into each other again, the battle was winding down. The vampires of Hotel Dumort regrouped while Raphael walked towards the Shadowhunters, the border still glowing. He pressed his hand to the glowing wall. He muttered a soft prayer in Spanish, and the wall glowed brightly before it evaporated into mist. His eyes lifted to meet the Shadowhunters', the pack's, and Magnus's.

"Well, that was interesting."

Simon was grinning. "Did you see that fight?! We looked awesome!"

Raphael rolled his eyes, but stayed silent as Simon excitedly fanboyed. The clan made their way to where Raphael and the others stood. None of them looked to be fatally injured.

Lily sighed. "Well, that solves your problem. Can I leave now?"

Elliot snorted next to her. "Why are you so blunt?"

Lily frowned. "I can be whatever I want."

She stuck her tongue out at him. Raphael turned to Luke and nodded an acknowledgment. He turned on his heel with his family and they headed back.

Edit: Well hopefully that wasn't too bad. I just read it again and i'm not sure what happened to Camille but uhm she's probably dead.

[i-am-not-anon]

Under the eye of an institution

Part 10 (we have come a long way..)

Summary: Logan and Patton (both 16), as older students, are expected to look after two groups of freshmen in Watersouth boarding school for boys. Both of them despise the tradition of bullying that is subjected to the newcomers by older students in their school. The two respectively get a student in their groups who is a little different from the ordinary crowd: Roman and Virgil (both 15).

Author’s note: Hey, I’m back! Special thanks for those who pre-read this chapter and commented on it, you really helped me finish this chapter! There’s going to be some new conflict between our students, but don’t stress about it... or should you?

Triggers: General bullying, abuse and violence, violent punishments, panic attacks, self-deprecation, name-calling, i n s t i t u t i o n 

Other parts here

...

“So, what did Simons exactly do to you?” Logan questioned, shifting his legs as he stood before the two younger boys. His emotions rarely affected his body language, but now he kept pacing around and fixing his glasses, which already were perfectly standing on the bridge of his nose. And he wasn’t the only one, whose nervousness was noticeable. 

“Don’t ask me, sir,” Roman squeaked, taking a step back that he was almost hiding behind Daniel. “I wasn’t telling you anything. He was,” Roman pointed at his friend.

Daniel sighed. “He’s afraid because Simons made him swear he won’t tell this to you, sir.”

Logan nodded. “I see. So I have to pose as if I never heard any of this? Makes things more complicated to a degree, but I’m sure I can handle it. Roman, I assure you no soul excluding the three of us will find out if you disclose that information to me.”

Roman let out a breath. “Um, he told me how much he hates me and how disgusting I am, then took a grip of my hair and flipped me around in the air.” The poor boy lifted his hand to his curls, gently brushing them to not hurt his sore scalp. 

“I see.” Logan frowned, trying to remain calm. “And what for did he punish you like that?”

“For, because I was the goalie and I missed so many times and then we lost, and he was in my team,” Roman rambled, looking at the ground.

“What kind of atrocity!” Logan was shocked. “That has nothing to do with the school rules whatsoever!” The older student straightened his collar in a frustrated movement. “Did any other person in the losing team receive similar treatment?”

“No, sir,” Daniel answered, being the one who had been able to observe the situation better. “After being done with Roman, Mr. Simons walked back to the field and seemed to have no intentions to punish anyone else.” 

Logan leaned his hand on his desk, trying to regain control over his feelings. Why was he suddenly so taken aback by a punishment fairly common in this terrible school? Well, at least common for the tutors that were the most violent. He sat back on his seat, where he had been interrupted from doing his homework a few moments ago. “Please, take a seat both of you, I need a moment to contemplate this,” the older student advised, gesturing the boys towards his neatly made bed.

Daniel and Roman sat down, the former still protectively holding the latter. Roman didn't mind that, leaning his head on Daniel's shoulder while waiting for Logan to figure something out. It was nice to have one good friend, at least. They had known each other for barely two weeks but it felt like a much longer time. 

….

Virgil sat in the second most comfortable sofa of the library, reading a collection of short novels while listening to a relaxing playlist. He had finished his homework already, and tried to focus on the story instead of the welling homesickness inside him. Oh, how he missed his brother. Why did he have to be exactly three years older than Virgil, so that he just had finished this school when Virgil came in? Emile was in university now, studying his beloved psychology. He had been the one to support Virgil when he had felt his worst, and helped him to get the therapist he had urgently needed.

The young boy sighed, putting his book away. Emile was the person he loved most in this whole world. He also was the only person excluding his parents who he was comfortable getting a hug from. Virgil felt the tears coming, but there was nobody watching so he let them fall. 

Because there definitely were people who cared for him and who he deeply loved, but why did they have to be so far away?

…

Logan almost felt steam coming out of his ears as he wrote notes about which teacher would be the most likely to actually take action in making sure only the respective tutors took care of their students. That was part of the school rules, but in reality nobody really made sure it was practiced accordingly. Once again, the teachers didn’t really care as long as it caused no interruption to their classes. 

List of teachers 

Mr. Brass- would only encourage more punishments

Mr. Wilson- would scold the culprit for a minute, but not make big enough deal about it

Mr. Houston- is always too tired to care

Mr. Higgins- has little authority

Mr. Atkinson- very lawful, might actually be irritated about Simons not following the rule

The list went on, but no better choice was presented than Mr. Atkinson. Logan sighed quietly, remembering Roman and Daniel were still sitting on his bed, chatting quietly to each other. 

“Boys, you can go continue your afternoon. It will take me a moment to figure this problem out in its entirety, and in the meanwhile I would instruct you to stay away from Simons.” Logan scratched the back of his neck. “I know it’s not solving anything, just a temporary solution until we get him actually responsible of his actions. I hope you a relaxing rest of the day.”

Daniel and Roman glanced at each other, then getting up and walking to the door. “Thanks, Mr. Andrews,” Daniel nodded his head as they got out of the room. 

“You’re welcome, boys.”

...

The next morning began with chemistry classes for both Roman and Virgil. The latter waited further away in the hall until the others had entered the class. That way, he hoped, Roman would not see him and therefore forget to insult him. He still had to think which would be more effective way to get past it when leaving, though; leaving earliest or latest. He could think about it during the class. 

“Alright, boys,” Mr. Houston called their attention. “I’m giving you a group project that will be presented next week-” He shot a frustrated glance at Roman, who had cheered in a hushed voice, “and I’m assigning the groups.” Mr. Houston payed no attention to Roman’s groan, but became naming the boys who had been paired together. 

“George and Matts, Isaac and Daniel, Roman and Virgil...” 

Virgil crushed the piece of paper he had been holding in his hand. This was so unfair. And Mr. Houston wouldn’t bat an ear to any compliments about the pairings because “You have to learn to work with all kinds of people for your future” He ignored Roman, who moved his desk next to his and greeted excitedly. 

What an idiot.

Roman kept trying to get Virgil’s attention, talking to him or sometimes poking his side. At first he tried to be nice and work with the quiet boy, but as his partner kept turning his back on him and not answering on how they should start the work, Roman began annoying him more and more. 

“I thought you stuttered, and wasn’t mute, stupid,” 

poke to the side

Roman whispered to Virgil’s ear, leaning way closer than Virgil preferred. “Or did you go deaf, too? We gotta do this project!”

Virgil moved slightly further away, continuing to look at the textbook page but not being able to concentrate. He hated Roman So. Much.

Roman stretched over to smear the face Virgil was looking at on the book with his pen. He grinned victoriously, as Virgil finally turned to look at him. 

“L-l-l-eave m-me al-a-al-alone!”

Roman tilted his head, still grinning maliciously. “O-o-oh? S-s-so no-no-now you can s-sp-s-s-pe-spe-speak?”

Virgil striked Roman on his face, and Roman’s chair crashed loudly on the floor as he fell down more out of surprise than the power of the punch. “Ow!!” In a second, he lunged on Virgil, who had stood up and almost managed to dodge the other boy, sending them both tumbling on the floor, where they continued fighting. Mr. Houston shouted at them, and when it didn’t seem to cause any kind of reaction, he had to separate them by force and held them up by their collars. 

“WHAT was that?”

The teacher shouted in such a volume, that Virgil held his ears. Mr. Houston began dragging the boys to the door, handling them roughly. He muttered something along the lines of “Hasn’t happened in three years” And quickly instructed the rest of the class to continue working and better behave while he was gone.

…

Mr. Wilson, having been teaching the older group Linear Algebra, opened the classroom door after hearing the angry knocks. He looked confused for a second, finding his workmate holding two yonger students apart by their collars, but stepped to the side to let him look inside. Teacher Higgins stepped one foot in the class, looking around with annoyance, as if he had been the one getting in trouble. 

“Logan Andrews, Patton Sawyer! Your students started a fight in my class and interrupted it greatly. I reckon you two do something about this, I need to get back to my work.”

Logan and Patton glanced at each other, and quickly collected their things to get outside. Mr. Wilson gave them the rest of the exercises to complete later, and now they were faced with two pouting students in the hall. 

“Virgil?” 

Patton looked so betrayed, that Virgil finally felt the guilt stinging in his chest. But it didn’t stop him from glaring at Roman with all the hate he could possibly gather.

Logan frowned at the two. “Roman, why did you hit Virgil?”

“Oh!!!???? I hit the poor Virgil?? He started it!” Roman screamed, pointing at the boy. There was about 3 feet between them, and Virgil didn’t bother to look up.

“Did you, Virgil?” Patton stepped closer, but Virgil stayed silent. He wouldn’t say a word when the Idiot was present, because he refused to be mocked again. 

Patton sighed, taking a step back. “Alright, boys. I think we need to find a place to sit down and talk this through. I don’t want anybody getting in any more trouble, and it’s not cool to hate others for long.”

“I agree,” Logan nodded, and they began walking to get downstairs.

“It’S nOT cOoL To HatE OtHeRs” Virgil mimicked to himself behind the tutor’s backs. He didn’t remember a time when he had been this angry towards everybody around him, but in all honesty, it made him feel powerful in a situation where in reality he had little to no control.

Roman sticked his tongue out at Virgil as they walked behind their tutors, and Virgil tried to slap him but the boy dodged it, so Virgil kicked him, to which Roman cried out loudly. That guy is way too good in making all of this look like my fault, the boy thought to himself, as Patton turned to scold his student. He really had to do the rest of this carefully and not fall in Roman’s traps like he just had. 

There’s only one thing good about all of this, Virgil thought. It all goes just like my worst, anxiety-filled thoughts had assumed, so I feel like I’ve at least seen this coming.

[blackleatherjacketz]

My Brother’s Keeper: Chapter 5

Negan x Reader

Summary: Your brother runs away from the Sanctuary and you pay the price.

Warnings: Prude-shaming, Slut-shaming, Sibling rivalry, Mentions of sex, Hot coffee, Spot the Hamilton reference, Angst, Anger, Fear, All that good stuff!

Read the rest of the story HERE!

Tags: @rasa1945 @annablack1102 @genevievedarcygranger @letsby @negans-network @negansdirtygirll @collette04 @mblaqgi @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @irrelevantwriter

“How long have you known?” The truth of your sister’s knowledge stung like a freshly open wound even though it didn’t surprise you. She’d always been the most secretive, the most manipulative, the most controlling of your siblings. You looked Natalie in the eye, her hazel irises expanding as she avoided your stare.

“A week or so,” she finally admitted.

“Natalie, you should have told me,” you paused in disbelief at your sister’s treachery. “Negan has scouts from here to Timbuktu watching the roads to the other communities. Did you think about that?” You walked past your father who couldn’t stop staring at the goodbye note Alex had written him, speechless on his bunk.

“And risked you blabbing your mouth to Doctor Carson or anyone else who walked into the infirmary?” She rose her eyebrows accusingly. “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t blab my mouth!” You defended, folding your arms across your chest.

“No, but you’re a bad liar, and so is dad. I couldn’t risk telling either of you.” She pointed to him.

“Hey!” He interjected, looking up from the letter. “I can keep a secret!”

You both pursed your lips, rolling your eyes as you remembered all the times he verbalized his innermost thoughts at the most inappropriate times.

“Alright, I’ll give you dad, but why didn’t you go just with them? Why are you still here? You hate it here.” You took a few steps forward, leaving only a foot of space between you.

“Somebody had to take care of him.” She nodded toward your father. “You’re already maxed out on points with your job, so I thought that when Negan found out they’d escaped he’d want…” her eyes darted over you nervously. “I thought that he’d want more from us.”

“And you thought that he’d want you, huh?” You swallowed hard, her confidence never ceasing to amaze you.

“Well yeah, I mean, what else could I do? I majored in cosmetology, I can’t…” she glanced around the room frantically, “Fix people when they’re hurt or build structures for the Sanctuary. I’m not like you and dad, okay?”

“So you were just going to… what? Fuck your way out of this like you fuck your way out of everything else?” Years of resentment began to manifest itself as anger, fanning a flame that burnt hot on your cheeks as your words became more candid.

“Looks like you beat me to it.” She tilted her head, glancing at your fresh bruises. “I was surprised you even remembered how to spread your legs at all.”

Your mouth fell open as your sister’s words hit the air, cutting you deep.

“Okay,” you started, putting a cautionary hand in the air, “It wasn’t even like that, and just so you know, I’ve spread my legs plenty.”

“Oh yeah? And how long ago was that?” Her eyes widened in judgement. “Negan needs someone with experience, not someone like you.”

“At least I haven’t slept with half the sanctuary already!” You couldn’t believe you were being prude-shamed by your own flesh and blood. “And just so you know, I’ve been focused on my career, doing my part to keep the whole family be safe, not trying to get my rocks off every chance I get!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” She screamed desperately, her jugular vein distending in her neck. “We can’t risk you getting overwhelmed with intimacy like you ALWAYS do. If anyone was made for this, it was me.” She clenched her jaw as she stared you down, her expression as dire as her words. “This is life or death, and we can’t mess this up.”

“Girls,” your father interjected, standing up. “Your mother’s out there with your brother somewhere. The last thing she’d want you to do is fight.”

“We’re not fighting, we’re having a conversation,” you whispered through gritted teeth. Those very words were often uttered by your mother after hours of screaming between them while you and your siblings huddled together at the top of the stairs.

He gave you a knowing glance and continued, “This has to stop.” He folded the piece of paper in half, in fourths, then in eighths before putting it in that tiny little pocket in the front of his jeans. “Negan made his choice, and we have to honor that.”

“I will if she does,” Natalie hissed.

“Alright,” you smirked, exposing both palms. “I’ll see you guys later.”

——————-

You tried your best to distract yourself, to put that horrid conversation in the back of your mind as you opened the latest novel Alex had lent you: Clear and Present Danger. Jesus, that sounded a little too close to home, didn’t it? You soldiered through the first few pages, not being able to focus on the words in front of you at all. You felt yourself reading the same sentence three times over before actually registering what it was trying to say. Nothing against Tom Clancy, but you just weren’t in the mood to read.

God, you missed movies.

Instead you decided to get some air, to change the scenery of these bland concrete walls to help improve your mood. You pushed into the heavy metal door at the end of the hallway, its hinges squeaking loudly against the rusted metal of the frame as you walked through the threshold and into the wet summer heat. The hum from the electric light in the corner of the building mixed with with the buzz of batted wings as moths and mosquitoes battled for dominance in an ambient summer chorus. At least these bugs would bite and suck your blood without judgement.

You let the door slam shut behind you, hearing it catch on the cinder block that kept it open for whoever else was out here. You were hoping to be alone for a few minutes but with the Sanctuary’s security protocols, the likelihood of that was very slim. Whoever was out here would be light years better company than your sister or that book.

“The hell are you doing out here?” The female Savior turned to face you, her M-16 at the ready. Oh thank God, it was only Laura.

“Can’t sleep,” you confessed, feigning to raise your hands in surrender.

“You never have trouble sleeping.” She loosened the grip on her weapon, letting go of it completely to let it hang by the strap on her shoulders. “You wanna talk about it?” She jested, turning away before you could even answer.

“Not really,” you whispered.

One of the perks of being a nurse at the Sanctuary was earning the inherent trust of most of its residents. Workers and Saviors alike all came to you and Doctor Carson in their times of need, putting their lives and comfort in your hands. Laura was one of those people about a year ago, getting shot in the stomach by a vagrant traveler when she hobbled into the infirmary covered in blood.

You remembered stitching her up while Doctor Carson was busy with an amputation next door, feeding her antibiotics and a few extra painkillers when no one else was looking. Ever since then she’d always looked out for you, grabbing extra medical supplies and candy when she went out on runs. She even went as far as bringing you a new stethoscope one time. You guessed she was the closest thing you had to a friend in the apocalypse.

“Good.” She walked over to the picnic table and picked up a thermos full of piping hot coffee. Despite the sticky heat that surrounded you both, she pursed her lips around the metal lid, blowing on the black liquid to cool it down. Taking a tentative sip, she smiled as the jolt of caffeine rushed through her veins, offering some to you in return.

You took the gift from your friend, hoping it would keep you awake long enough to avoid your bed until your sister’s words left your memory. ‘I’m surprised you remembered how to spread your legs at all’ … unbelievable! The coffee was bitter, and no help in washing away those awfully fresh memories. Maybe what you needed was a stronger drink, something with alcohol in it.

“Simon said he couldn’t find your family at Hilltop; they just got back.” Laura took her thermos back from you, sipping again before placing it gently on the picnic table.

“Thanks,” you replied somberly, knowing of only one other community they could be at. “Hopefully they find them soon.” You lied through your teeth, even to Laura whose kindness set her apart from the rest of the Saviors. You’d take your peace of mind any way you could get it.

“Negan will probably search The Kingdom tomorrow. He sounded pretty pissed that Simon didn’t bring them back tonight.” She leaned her back against the table.

“Yeah, I figured he would go there first,” you whispered, hoping he was miles away from any community Negan had on his radar.

Negan… Negan… oh shit, didn’t he say he was going to stop by tonight? Shouldn’t you be in your apartment graciously waiting for him to come over and…

“You should try to get some rest,” Laura interrupted your thoughts. “He’ll want you on your A-Game tomorrow.”

[ruinedthatfriendship]

t shirt

A/N: In which Demi makes a mistake, Simon decides to roll with it, and the rest of the world finds out. Original file was dated Jan 2014. Yikes. 

Demi was still catching her breath, resting her forehead against Simon’s shoulder and tracing idle patterns over his chest. She was pretty sure her hair was completely tangled to hell by his hands by now, but she couldn’t really find it in herself to care.

“We should stop doing this,” she said quietly after a moment, mostly a weak, perfunctory protest so she could say she tried.

They were sitting together on the couch in his dressing room, Demi straddling his thighs and Simon casually holding her hips, various pieces of their respective clothing scattered in a trail from the closed door to their current location. “You can’t keep reorganizing lunch breaks every time you want to have sex with me,” she pointed out with a smirk. “There are people trying to sing for us, you know.”

Simon shrugged rather arrogantly, leaning back on the couch and giving her a view she made no secret of appreciating in the process. “I can, actually. And I don’t hear you complaining. If you really want to get rid of me, wear something--actually, no, I don’t think there’s anything you could wear that would make you less gorgeous.”

Demi giggled, poking him playfully but privately flattered. He certainly did wonders for her body confidence, if not in the most traditional of ways. She leaned forward to steal one more kiss, jumping backward at the sound of a knock on the door.

“We need you back in ten minutes, Mr Cowell!” Someone called from the hallway.

Demi sighed, pouting at the interruption, before a healthy dose of panic kicked in. “Oh my god, Simon, we need to go!”

Simon watched her scramble up and around the room, looking incredibly amused. She was doing her best to pick up all of her clothing, but her haste actually only served to make the process less efficient.

After a few minutes of frantic re-dressing and an attempt to make herself presentable in his mirror, Demi looked back over at him with a glare. “You’re going to be late if you don’t get dressed!”

“Well, darling, I have neither ridiculous shoes nor makeup to worry about. You should try it,”

“Might just,” Demi muttered, wiggling back into her skinny black jeans and re-tucking in the front of a shirt. She’d chosen to dress down somewhat for auditions today from her usual fashion statement dresses, but she was still rocking a pair of high heeled boots and elegant makeup to pull the whole thing together. It might have been a plain shirt and jeans under a leather jacket, but she was more than fine for an afternoon of auditions. And she certainly had a ways to go before hitting the low bar Simon set with his clothes.

It took a bit more poking and prodding while she did her best to put her hair back into shape, but Simon did eventually get up and move to the closet to find his shirt.

“Are we leaving together?” Demi murmured, rubbing at her lipstick. He obviously didn’t have any in here for her to fix it with, so she was just going to have to do her best to clean it up and hope the cameras didn’t pick up too much.

On their own, any one of her features could be chalked up to some other excuse. As an entire picture, though, she really screamed Simon Cowell just fucked me backstage and there was nothing she could do about it at this point.

“I’ll go first,” Simon shrugged. “After I leave, there’ll be no reason to assume anyone else is down here and they won’t be looking. You might just have to be a little bit late.”

Demi pouted. “But everyone expects you to be late. I’m not supposed to--”

Simon was already opening the door, blowing an exaggerated kiss back at her. “See you on the set, brat.”

Rolling her eyes, Demi finished her rescue attempt on her hair and straightened her clothes one last time, waiting another minute before quietly walking out of the dressing room to an empty hallway and slipping back down to the set.

In hindsight, she should have worn one of her dresses that morning. It would have been harder to mix up. In hindsight, they probably shouldn’t have spent the entire morning frustrating one another. In hindsight, they shouldn’t have given in and had wild dressing room sex. A case could be made for ever sleeping together, but that ship had definitely sailed. In hindsight, Demi shouldn’t have spent so much time in his clothes when she spent time at his house; she might have noticed earlier if it wasn’t so natural.

All she knew when she sat back down in her chair was that somewhere, she’d made a mistake. Kelly and Paulina were wearing twin expressions of shocked, guilty interest, like she was a walking front cover of a gossip magazine in the rack at a grocery store checklane. Simon was just smirking at her.

She could feel her anxiety mounting, but it took Simon leaning over to whisper in her ear before she actually realized what was wrong.

“You look good in my shirt, baby,”

Demi glanced down at herself reflexively, trying to keep her eyes from bugging out of her head in panic. “Um,” Well fuck. She turned back to Simon, trying to convey an apology and a simultaneous cry for help with her eyes. She hadn’t meant to do this, they’d just talked about how they needed to keep it a secret, and she had no idea how they were going to get out of this one.

“Relax, brat,” he murmured. “I don’t care if you don’t.”

Something in her chest warmed at the words, and she reached over under the table to lace her fingers with his. A united front, even if no one else could see it yet. And still, maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe no one would say anything. Kelly and Paulina obviously had figured something out, but they could talk to them. Maybe no one else would notice. 

It was a short-lived dream. The first contestant out on the stage was a skinny, wiry twenty-something who looked like he probably still lived in his parents’ basement. “Hi, Demi!” he blurted as soon as he’d reached the center of the stage.

Demi winced. Awkward fans were really her least favorite part. She was suddenly reminded of Britney last season, faced with the weird guy who’d butchered her song and tried to give her flowers.

“And what’s your name?” Simon intervened quickly. He may not have existed, for all the man paid attention to him. “My name is Thomas, and I’m here to sing for Demi, cause I’m really just such a huge fan!” he gushed. “Seriously, Demi, it’s just an honor, like, wow, you’re so much more beautiful in person.”

Demi cleared her throat, feeling that ignoring him would be worse. She pasted on her best polite smile and leaned into the mic. “Thank you,”

Simon’s hand tightened on hers slightly under the table. “Okay, yep, go ahead.” he pushed, irritated and jealous and trying to hurry him along.

His...attempt...at Nightingale was less than impressive. He wasn’t only off-key for the entirety of the song, but fell out of rhythm with the music track and kept trying to throw in provocative dance moves.

Demi was visibly making a face at this point, feeling nothing but relief when Simon’s hand shot up to stop the song after barely hitting the chorus. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’m going to assume, given your apparent adoration for the lovely woman sitting to my right,” sarcasm laced his words, “that your butchery of her music was accidental? I’m going to be honest with you, I’m sitting here contemplating writing you a check for the $1 million just to not ever sing that again.”

Kelly and Paulina had similarly negative comments, which only served to further agitate the man on the stage. When they finally made it to Demi, she just shrugged. “Sorry, it’s a big no.”

“It was all for you, Demi!” he protested, ignoring Simon’s flat reminder that he had four no’s and needed to exit. “Why are you so ungrateful?”

Leaning into the microphone once more, Demi sighed. Clearly she had influence with this man, she may as well try to use it to get him off the stage. “Thomas? Thanks for coming, I’m gonna need you to go backstage now, okay?”

“It’s cause of him, isn’t it?” he shouted instead, pointing at Simon. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you? That’s his shirt, isn’t it?” That was enough to make the audience start yelling in earnest, and Demi dropped her gaze to her lap.

“Okay,” Simon dropped her hand suddenly beneath the table, smacking both of his down on the desktop and standing. “Enough. Time to go.”

Torn between anxiety and relief that Simon had stepped in, Demi watched with her lip caught nervously between her teeth as he marched angrily up the stairs onto the stage and none-too-gently pushed the still-protesting contestant off stage by the elbow. Beside her, Paulina patted her hand comfortingly, leaning in to whisper in her heavy accent, “You look beautiful. I’m happy if you’re happy.”

At that point, Simon had returned to the stage, and made a brief show of dusting his hands off for the sake of the cameras, throwing a brief eye roll as he jogged back down the steps to the judges’ table. Demi assumed he would just let it go, starting slightly when he sat down and immediately reached out to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” she replied hastily. “What are you doing?”

“Just this.” He took his free hand to tilt her chin toward him, meeting her beautifully puzzled brown eyes and feeling his heart skip. And without hesitating, pulled her closer and kissed her hard.

Demi drowned out the roar of the audience behind them, catching his hand and lacing their fingers again while her other arm reached up to slide into his hair. For a moment, she lost herself entirely in the feeling of his lips on hers, a low moan escaping the back of her throat, before Paulina’s gentle hand on her back had her pulling back into reality.

Breathless and smiling shyly, Demi sat back fully in her seat, realizing she’d been about to crawl into his lap, and reflexively fixed her--his--trademark white t shirt. Simon just shrugged, lifting their clasped hands to now rest on top of the desk, and used his other hand to gesture to the stage crew. “Who’s next?”

                                                           ***

Demi woke to the soft chirp of her phone on the nightstand in her hotel room. The sun was streaming through the curtains, and she could hear the shower running in the ensuite. A smile crept onto her lips as she stretched lazily. She and Simon hadn’t even bothered to make a show of taking two rooms last night, and it had been positively delightful. She did love him, she’d love him no matter what, but she couldn’t deny it was nice to be able to walk without hiding.

She reached for her phone, hitting the home button and reading the notification for Twitter. What did he do? She opened the app quickly, finding the tweet in question, which was currently blowing up from his end as well as all of her Lovatics.

@SimonCowell: good morning, love @ddlovato

It was a picture of her asleep, snuggled into the duvet with her hair falling over her face, one arm peaking out just enough to clearly show his shirt hanging off of her shoulder.

She smiled softly at her phone, sitting up and running a hand through her hair to smooth it before opening a new tweet. Her thumbs were still idling over the keyboard, debating a post of her own, when the bathroom door opened and Simon walked back into the room.

“Come here!” she waved him over, struck by a sudden inspiration. His brow furrowed, but he obediently sat down on the edge of the bed, still shirtless with his hair damp and as of yet not styled into that god awful middle part.

She adjusted the camera to make it a tasteful shot--no need to go too far with their respective states of undress--and snapped selfies in quick succession, one of her with her tongue stuck out at him and another of a kiss to his cheek.

@ddlovato: srsly @SimonCowell? the one time you get up before me!

@ddlovato: just kidding love you

She kept her phone hidden from him, prompting Simon to lean over curiously. “What are you doing?”

Demi squeaked, hiding her phone against her ribs. “Hey! Wait for it!”

She watched in amusement as he immediately went for his own phone when it chimed, taking note of his expression as he read her words. She bit her lip, waiting for his reaction.

He looked up a moment later, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“Too much?” Demi winced.

Simon’s face broke into a smile and he leaned back over, kissing her properly on the lips this time. “I love you too, brat.”

[crackmadhi]

The Cat is a Troll

Thursday, 16 September 2032

It was already evening, and I was still stuck in the traffic, as Apollo called me and asked if I was on my way home. He wanted to know, if he should warm up our food already or if he should wait some more.

I told him that he could start, since I was almost at my turn and even though traffic was bad, I would soon be home. Then we hung up and I started humming a melody.

This day had been fucking stressful up until now. I had to present two cases in court and the latter one was absolutely nerve-wrecking. Not because it was a hard case, no. The main witness just could not shut up and it was almost impossible to get them to stop talking again. Even the judge was getting annoyed by it and had to ask for their removal.

But now the night was finally dawning, and I got to see my sun again. My sun, who just called me to ask if he should make me dinner. I felt a smile forming on my lips and quickly glanced at the silver ring on my left ring finger. It was still new and shiny. And I still felt the sweet contentment rushing through my veins when I looked at it.

I really longed to see my husband again and apparently for once life time was kind to me as it flew by and I reached my destination a bit earlier than expected. Quickly I went inside and straight into the kitchen, where I was hit with quite the sight.

Apollo Justice, the owner of the small law firm Justice & Co. and former official legal council for the reconstruction of the khura’inese legal system, was standing on a kitchen counter, while our lovely cat Mikeko sat on a cupboard and unimpressed stared down at him. He meowed at him and Apollo mumbled something angrily in khura’inese. Cautiously he stretched and tried to reach the fluffy animal but exactly as he had almost got hold of him, Mikeko simply took a step back and started peacefully licking his pawn as if he was mocking him.

I had to bite my lip in order to keep myself from laughing. This was absolutely hilarious. It got even better as I realized that Vongole was also in the kitchen and stood behind Apollo down on the floor watching him closely like I did.

He let out a little bark and immediately my red lawyer growled frustratedly: “Oh can you do it better, Clams? Can you? Then please, do it yourself! Go on! Get this stubborn creature down here!”

And at that I could no longer contain myself and started laughing. That caused Apollo to stumble and he almost lost balance. Immediately I run over to him and supported him by holding his legs still, so he would not fall down.

As soon as he was no longer in danger of falling down, he turned around and told me loudly with a beet red face: “Fuck you? What the hell is your business with sneaking up on me and then giving me a heart attack? I almost died!”

Before I could say anything, Mikeko jumped down from the cupboard on the counter, quickly slid around Apollo’s legs, and finally jumped down on the floor ignoring my existence while gracefully exiting the room.

Both of us looked after the cat in bewilderment. This animal had the same vibe as the “Then perish” meme. He was godlike.

Anyway, I took a step back and as Apollo very carefully sat down, I told him: “Well, to my defence I was quite overwhelmed with the scene, which was unfolding in front of me. It was kinda bizarre and your backside is also very much distracting.”

I winked at him and he puffed his adorably pink cheeks. But suddenly he cracked a smile and shook his head. He took my hands and drew circles with his thumb on their back.

I had the urge to lean on him and lay my head on his shoulders. At first, I tried to resist, but as Apollo drew me closer and grabbed me around shoulders, I gave in and buried my head in his shoulders. It was nice being in a lower position than Apollo for once. Leaning on my sweet small partner was really comforting.

And then an alarm clock went off and the little man slid down from the counter in order to get our lasagne out of the oven. I let out a tired huff and set up the table. Apollo followed soon with the lasagne and a bottle of red wine together with two glasses.

“Oh wow”, I said in as I stemmed my hands in my hips. “What’s there to celebrate? Have I forgotten something? Or am I in trouble or both?”

He only shot me a slightly offended look and answered while filling my glass: “Can’t I just drink some wine with my husband? And also, you look like you had a shitty day, so I wanted to make this evening a bit nicer for you.”

“Can you call me husband again? It sounds like music in my tender ears”, I pledged and stepped close to him.

A sneaky smile appeared on his lips and softly touched his shoulders and let my hands wander down to his chest. His face came closer to me and he whispered smoothly: “My husband. I’m going to drink some wine with my handsome husband, Klavier Gavin. Did that make you happy?”

“Very much so”, I replied and pressed a small kiss on his lips.

We parted again, toasted on us, drank our wine and started eating our lasagne. He asked me about my day and I could get some steam off. Then he told me about how his new intern Tam had managed to get into a heated discussion about musicals with an over fifty years old man. Said man had come into their office for a defence request for his son who had been accused of identity theft and had been in a horrible mood before the kid had started talking with him.

Apollo himself had been out, when the guy had first entered the office, because of he had been called to a crime scene for another case and only met the man as he came back, while his lovely intern was cheerfully describing the hidden meaning of ‘Wicked’ to the eagerly listening man in his early fifties.

Apollo had only ever praise for the young woman. With her fiercely gentle nature she was quite a strange character, who was absolutely intriguing. And so, they had won a new client in no time even though Apollo had not been there to meet him first.

“Frau Abelen truly is a treasure, isn’t she?”, I said to Apollo after he had ended his story.

“She sure is. And she’s also really talented at defending to be honest. I have taken her to court with me several times and she’s a complete natural. Sharp mind and an insightful point of view. One day she’ll make a great lawyer”, he told me as excitement glimmered in his eyes.

Quickly he had stood up and put the lasagne bowl on the counter. I took our used plates and wandered over to him, carefully putting the plates next to the bowl and then hugged my man from behind.

“Of course, she’ll be great! She will have learnt form the greatest lawyer after all”, I whispered in his ears and got a slightly embarrassed laugh in return.

He wiggled himself out of my hug and turned around, so he could see me. Nonchalantly he laid his arms around my neck, tilted his head to the side and smiled at me.

“What is it with you today? You’re always rather smooth but this is fucking brilliant. Do you want something from me? Something involving our bed room? Hm? You little horny rock star?”

Well, now, that was simply unfair. He had no idea how attractive he was when he started talking like this with that sort of smirk and that voice. And complimenting me at the same time. Dear god, this man was the end of me.

I leaned in for a kiss, closed my eyes and felt how Apollo’s lips came closer and –

“Meow”

Confused we turned our faces towards the counter and discovered a very judging cat starring at us from inside the lasagne bowl. I felt my jaw drop, while Apollo simply raised his eyebrows, as we watched how Mikeko came out of the bowl, stretched and then jumped down from the counter and yet again left the room as gracefully as an Olympia ice skater.

“This cat is the ultimate troll”, I huffed under my breath as I made a step towards the kitchen in order to get some towels for the tomato stains the horrible cat just had left.

Yet I did not get further than that because Apollo broke down laughing in tears, what I observed in cluelessness. As the laughing continued, I got worried and asked a bit lost: “What exactly is so funny about this?”

I saw how Apollo attempted reply, but it took him quite some time before he was able to calm down enough to answer me.

“Ah, sorry, but – I – well there was just an image popping up in my mind of a fantasy troll Mikeko with the quest of cock-blocking us and it seemed so fucking ridiculous to me at the moment.”

I blinked several times before I actually registered what the man just had told me and needed several more seconds before I understood what he had said. And then I started laughing violently myself, what led to Apollo starting to laugh again. What made me laugh even harder and made it way more difficult to stop laughing again.

I did not even know why I laughed in the first place. The image was not really that funny, but somehow it was the most hilarious thing when I had heard Apollo say it. And it still was hilarious when we stopped laughing and started to clean up the mess Mikeko had caused. Vongole even helped us as he liked up some of the tomato trail the naughty cat had left behind.

When we were finally finished, I let myself drop on the sofa in the living room and stared at the pictures on the coffee table. It was one of Apollo and me on our first date, several with Simon, Nahyuta, Apollo and me in it, some of Trucy, Thalassa, Athena and Herr Wright and also one of Rayfa. I leaned forward and took the one up where Simon sat on said coffee table, made peace sign and I was sitting in front of him on the floor, smiling brightly.

I decided we needed more pictures. There were too little of Kay, Sebastian and Frau Skye. I wanted to see more of them. They belonged into this household.

A black-white ball of fluffy hair appeared in front of me. I smiled and fondled the spaniel half-breed behind his ears. Ultimately, he laid down on my feet and I got the chance to lay back again.

Peacefully I sat there, humming a melody for a new song in my head. Life was good. Even kind right now. I appreciated that.

I heard Apollo come closer, a purring mass in his arms. I opened my eyes and saw how he sat down next to me with the cat on his lap. Mikeko slept peacefully just as Vongole did and I gave Apollo an amused look.

Then I reached over to the cat, petted him and told Apollo: “Both of them might be trolls from time to time. But I would not want to live without them anymore.”

“Neither would I”, Apollo agreed and kissed my cheek. “They are just as much part of this family as you and I are.”

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