#so the note could very well have said things like don’t pursue the rocks. reach out to the neighbors. I love you. I’m proud of you

[fortune-maiden]

Eternally torn between Quirin’s note revealing bits about his past and the DK or cryptically begging Varian to forget about the rocks and take care of himself and be safe

[toru-oikawas-milkbread]

A-Z NSFW Alphabet | Shinsuke Kita

Pairing: Shinsuke Kita x f!reader

Word count: 4.3K

Warnings/contents: Sex, strong language, variety of kinks, 18+

Notes: N O B O D Y can change my mind that this man is a soft-dom. I’m dying on this hill. With that being said, I hope you agree with that statement and like this post 💕

In all of my NSFW posts, all of the characters are 18+! If you would like to see my growing list of other Haikyuu boys whenever I add them, you can follow {this link} to my masterlist!

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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Kita is an aftercare god. He takes such good care of you by getting you into the shower, changing the sheets, putting your blanket in the dryer so that it’s warm when you get into bed, fluffing the pillows up, making sure that you have water on your bedside table, and showering with you if you wanted him to. He would wash your hair and back, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while the warm water slides down your bodies for a few minutes as he softly massages your shoulders. He would help you get dressed, carry you around, and hold you close while he strokes your hair and you try and sleep

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Theirs: He likes his hands. He knows that they’re a bit rough, but they’re also large and always warm enough to warm your chilly hands. He can grope at your chest with his hands, hold your hands in his, cup your face in his hands, and be able to feel you close to him and hold you all because of his hands

Yours: He’s always really liked your breasts. He likes to see your cleavage, and don’t even get him started on when you’re wearing a shirt with no bra and he can see your nipples. He likes to watch them bounce while he’s fucking you. He also enjoys slapping them a little bit to make them bounce and shift inside of your shirt when you’re not wearing a bra. Kita also really enjoys sucking on your nipples and licking up your cleavage while he pushes them together with his hands

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

For the most part, Kita likes to cum inside of you. He doesn’t necessarily care for watching his cum slide down your legs like some of the characters, and he doesn’t really care for cumming on your stomach either. Even if the sheets are being changed, he doesn’t care for making a bigger mess, especially on your body. However, on the rare occurrence that you would slide Kita’s cock between your breasts, he would cum on your chest

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would really like to have sex with you at the beach. The distant sounds of the ocean crashing against the rocks, the sounds of the city at night, just the two of you alone in the sand on a blanket— kissing, feeling each other, pleasuring each other. But he’s never pursued this thought because the beach is a very public area and who knows what might happen. However, if you were to bring this up, it wouldn’t take much convincing on his end

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

You were Kita’s first ever experience. The two of you took things slow and careful, with lots of questions from him and asking for your guidance to make sure that he knew what you liked and didn’t like. He would make sure that you were okay with different things that he tried, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or put you through any pain. He talked with you beforehand to ask about some things you liked so he could hone in on those skills and learn how to make you squirm and squirt around his fingers. He has a very good memory and it didn’t take him long to perfect his skills in the bedroom because he’s very vocal with you

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s always loved missionary. He likes to look at you squirming beneath him and seeing the faces you make as you reach your orgasm around his cock. He likes the ability to kiss you whenever he wants. He likes looking into your eyes and being able to lean down and whisper how much he loves you in your ear. He likes being able to pull back a little bit and watch your breasts bounce along with his movements. He likes to moan in your ear and have you moaning in his while you bury your face into his shoulder. And he especially likes when you wrap your legs around him and keep his body snug against your own. Occasionally he likes to pull back and bring your legs up onto his shoulders. He likes this because he can see even more of you and he still has the ability to lean down to kiss you if he felt like it

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Kita is somewhere between serious and humorous. He likes to make you laugh. He doesn’t want sex to be a serious thing that you can’t still enjoy each others presence in and laugh about silly things like bonking your heads even after how many times you’ve been in bed together. However there are more serious moments where the two of you stare into each others eyes, Kita’s hand holding your own down on the bed as he pushes himself inside of you, but even the serious moments are very loving. There isn’t a time of any day that you aren’t reminded that Kita truthfully and very deeply cares for you

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Nowadays, Kita shaves it all off completely. For a long time he only trimmed it, but one day while he was in the shower he thought that if he was going to be trimming it so short, he might as well go ahead and shave it. He mainly only wanted to see what it would feel like against his clothes, and not to mention you, if he was fully shaved down, and he realized how much better it feels without the hair. He keeps himself very clean, very frequently

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Kita is a very romantic, sweet man. He treasures you above all else, praising you with kisses pressed to each part of your body, a soft tone that makes your heart race and a gentle gaze that makes your cheeks flush hot. He never lets you go a day thinking he could love you any less today than he did yesterday, and he never makes you feel like he won’t love you the same tomorrow. Kita has never once disappointed you, and he doesn’t plan on starting now

J = Jerk off (masterbation headcanon)

If he ever needs to get off that badly that he can’t merely ignore the boner, he has no objections to taking care of the issue himself. He doesn’t like bothering you with sucking him off, however he might occasionally see if you would want to have phone sex. However there is never any pressure because he really can take care of the boner himself

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Light teasing: (Explained further below)

Praising: Kita is constantly praising you. Whether it be for how good you suck on his cock whenever he rarely says yes to you sucking him off or you’re in 69, how good you taste, how cute you are squirming for his tongue and his fingers, how cute it is that you’re so wet and ready for him, how well you take his cock, how good you feel when you’re clenching around him, etc. He also calls you many sweet things in bed. His favorite names to call you are: “Baby” and “My love,” but Kita will also call you “(His) Good girl” sometimes softly in your ear. He’ll call you one of these names while he gently caresses your cheek, telling you that you’re so pretty when you’re taking his cock inside of you

Daddy kink: He’s definitely into being called daddy, but he also wouldn’t ask for it. It was something that he didn’t know he was into until one time the two of you were having sex and it slipped out of your mouth. He wasn’t expecting it and had stopped in shock, asking you what you had just called him. You were extremely embarrassed, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. In that moment, he simply caressed your face and whispered soft assurances that it was okay and that he didn’t mind it, and that you could call him that if you wanted to, but it was something he grew fond of very fast

Very light dumbification: He’s only into this in the sense that he enjoys fucking you until you’re unable to think of anything beside him and how good he feels inside of you. Sometimes he’ll whisper something about how you seem mind-numb around his cock, but he wouldn’t be mean about it. His tone would be gentle as he caressed your cheek, calling you his cute little baby and asking you a question to hear you mumble out an incoherent answer. He loves it when your moaning gets messy and incoherent because then he knows that he’s done his job

Light edging: Kita doesn’t really deny you of what it is that you want and what you’re craving, but he does know when to edge you once or twice before he lets you reach your orgasm because it’s going to make it feel that much better when you do finally cum around his fingers or down into his mouth. It leaves you panting and feels much better than when he just gives it to you. Besides, he can’t lie, listening to you beg for him to let you cum on your own free will makes his cock throb

Squirting: He loves to make you squirt. He enjoys seeing how much he can make you squirt back to back. Once he got the hang of how to make you gush, he started to do it every single time that you were in bed together. He likes to edge you a couple of times and then make you squirt several times in a row. He finds it fascinating to watch, and he also knows that it feels good for you. He really likes it when you squirt around his cock because you squeeze tighter around him and it makes both of you feel good

Overstimulation: There’s nothing more that Kita loves than overstimulating you. Than hearing your moans become a sobbing, incoherent mess. Than feeling your pussy clenching and gushing around his cock until you have nothing left to give him. Than feeling your nails in his back until your fingers are numb and there’s red scratch marks on his skin. Than kissing you sloppily until you’re unable to focus on the kiss and get too lost in how good it feels. Than having you fall asleep quickly in his arms afterwards because you’re exhausted, clean, and satisfied— just like he always intends on leaving you after sex

Clothes: Kita loves to fuck you while you’re wearing his shirts. He thinks that you look so cute— so small in his large shirts, especially the dress shirts that he has. He can leave it unbuttoned on you, this way he can watch your breasts bounce while he’s inside of you and still have the satisfaction of you wearing his shirt. It’s a little reassurance that you’re all his and his alone, especially in the moment. Because your mind isn’t anywhere but him, and he knows that— and in return his mind isn’t anywhere but you

Soft dom: He is a very gentle man. Everything that he does, he does it gently with you. He wouldn’t ever want to hurt you more than how he stretches you out, and when it comes to thoughts of degrading you or calling you a whore, he doesn’t get off. He’s gentle, soft, and loving. Even when it hurts, he tries to take things slow and gentle with you, being as caring as he’s always been. He’s a sweetheart and he loves to praise you. He likes to see you smile when the two of you are in bed, and hearing your laughter only makes it better. He wouldn’t get off to being mean to you or hurting you in any way

Service dom: Kita gets off on getting you off. He wouldn’t care much for you sucking his cock, instead wanting to bury his face between your legs and making you squirm and moan beneath his touch for hours. He would do anything that you liked, within reason. He wants to make you as happy as he can. You would never leave that bedroom unsatisfied— that he makes damn sure of

Somno (sex on a sleeping/sleepy person): It isn’t the most frequent occurrence, but sometimes Kita likes to rub your clit or finger you gently while you’re sleeping to hear your sleepy moans. He would also love to wake you up on the weekend mornings with his face already between your legs. He usually only does it on the weekends, but if you happened to be having a wet dream on a weeknight, sometimes he can’t help himself from pressing a few kisses along your neck and starting to finger you— especially if you were to moan his name in your sleep

Lactophilia: I think that if you had Kita’s baby, he wouldn’t mind at all still sucking on your nipples while you were breastfeeding. He would massage your breasts for you when they were especially tender, watching some milk drip from your nipples and being fascinated by the sight. He’d be curious about how it tasted and ask you if he could taste it, and it just became something that happened sometimes. When you’re in missionary and breastfeeding, he would play with your nipples to make some milk squirt from them

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

#1: Kita likes to have sex in the bedroom above all else. It’s comfortable, close to the bathroom, warm, and he likes to keep pillows beneath your head while the two of you are having sex so that he knows you’re nice and comfortable. He would never let your head hit the wall more than once, if that. He’s a very observant man, and if he thinks that you’re too close to the wall, he’ll put a pillow behind your head for extra assurance that you don’t bonk your head

#2: Kita really likes shower sex. It isn’t as frequent nor would he try and have sex with you every single time that the two of you showered together, but say that the two of you were to finish in the bedroom but you were both willing to go a little longer, he would have no objections to fucking you against the wall. Kita would get down on his knees and eat you out while the warm water ran down your body, and he would actually really like it when you suck on his cock in the shower sometimes

M = Motivation (what turns them on/gets them going?)

Knowing that you’re feeling good is what makes this service dom happy. It’s all he really needs to keep going, hearing your moans and having you tell him that it feels good drives him wild. He loves it when you’re more vocal because it’s extra assurance that you don’t feel pressured into having sex with him— especially when he’s the one who initiates it. He likes to make you squirm beneath him, often times reaching down and rubbing at your clit if you were in the right position

N = No (something they wouldn’t do/turn offs)

Kita wouldn’t do anything too harsh. Very gently degrading you by calling you a slut or a whore (only if you asked him to) would be the worst that he would do. Kita is not into the idea of hurting you, so even if you were into it, he wouldn’t slap you and only gently slap your ass sometimes— but it’s a rare occurrence because in the moment he isn’t thinking about wanting to slap you

O = Oral (preferences in giving/receiving, skill, etc.)

He is very good at oral and he loves to do it. He likes to suck on your clit and finger you until you’re squirting around his fingers and soaking the bed. He also enjoys teasing you with his tongue, eyeing you as he laps at your entrance and occasionally pushing his tongue inside of you. But his favorite thing to do would be edging you once while he’s between your legs and then making you squirt a bunch. He likes it when you pull on his hair and tighten your legs around his head before you reach your orgasm. Another thing that Kita loves is when you sit on his face— not to suck his cock, but so that he can suck on your clit and massage your breasts while he watches your face

It isn’t very important to him if you were to suck his cock or not. He wouldn’t ask for it, and often times would turn you down if you were to ask him if he wanted you to suck it. He’s all about pleasing you, however if you were to not ask and get between his legs, he wouldn’t turn you down. He would hold your hair back so he could look at you, softly moaning and telling you that it feels so good. He really likes how warm your mouth is around his cock, but he can’t wait to get back to pleasuring you again. A good option for him is 69 so that you can suck on his cock while he eats you out, but it’s another thing he often times turns down and tells you to turn around when you sit on his face and go to lean down. He would really like to feel your breasts against his body while he eats you out though

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He always takes it slow and gentle with you. He gives you as long as you need to adjust when he’s inside of you, making sure that you’re comfortable with the position and on the bed before he starts to slowly move inside of you when you tell him that he can. He makes sure that you’re wet enough and he always has lube on hand to make things easier if he’s struggling to get you to a point he deems worthy. He doesn’t want to hurt you in any way, so he takes things very slow and he’s always very sweet

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Kita is not really a fan of quickies. He likes to pleasure you, he likes to get you soaked and ready for him. He doesn’t like to strip off all of your clothes and push himself inside of you right away, he likes to take things slow. He likes to slowly undress you and occasionally slide his own shirt onto you. He likes to kiss and suck on your neck teasingly while he gently rubs at your clit to make you wet. He likes to take his time, he doesn’t like feeling rushed when it comes to pleasing you. However, something he would make an exception for would be if you were in the kitchen after the two of you had already been touching each other on the sofa. He would not mind slowly fucking you while you leaned over the counter while dinner cooked

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He might be willing to try a few new things with you, though nothing too extreme, and if either of you weren’t comfortable with the idea, it’s always easily considered dropped. When the two of you are trying new things, he’s always very vocal. Talking to you and making sure that you’re doing okay, that it isn’t hurting you and that you’re liking it so far. If he senses that you’re uncomfortable, he would stop and ask if you were okay immediately instead of waiting it out to see if you were just adjusting to the new sensation. Most of the time, the two of you stick to what you know

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Kita’s stamina is pretty impressive. He can go about 3-4 rounds depending on the night, eating you out between rounds to give himself a break and to continue pleasuring you until you were an overstimulated mess around him. If you were really in the mood and weren’t done, he could push himself and go 5-6 rounds, but afterwards he would be dead exhausted, and typically the 5th or 6th round happens in the shower so the two of you can get a head start on getting clean

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He isn’t really big on the idea of using things in the bedroom. He likes the way things are— getting you off with his fingers and tongue. He’s proud of the way that he can make you gush around his fingers, and dare he say that it’s given him a bit of an ego. He doesn’t really want the help of a vibrator to make you gush. He thinks he can do it just fine on his own

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kita doesn’t tease you much, only edging you once or twice. He likes to give you what you want. Making you happy makes him happy, it’s always been that way. However he thinks that it is adorable when you beg for him because you don’t have to and he’s going to give you what you want even if you demand it. He wouldn’t stop you from begging if that’s what you wanted to do, but he wouldn’t make you either

V = Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

Kita is very vocal. His moans are typically soft and right by your ear. He’ll give a few scattered grunts and soft groans, though his moans are pretty low and from the back of his throat. His sounds are very consistent in the way that even when he’s cumming he doesn’t get too much louder and his moans don’t get high or whiny. He also talks to you a lot, making sure you’re feeling good, praising you, etc. He likes to keep decently quiet so that he can hear you because it’s something that both gets him off and helps him know that he’s doing good for you

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Kita is a big cuddler. He loves to curl up with you on a rainy day with a good book and just read together. He likes to hold you close every single night in bed. After dinner, the thing that he’s most excited for is to curl up with you on the sofa and watch something or just talk about your separate days. He likes to lay on his back at night and have you laying on your side with one of your legs around his waist, his hand on your thigh and your hand on his chest, softly tracing patterns over his night shirt before you fall asleep with your hand flat on his chest. You relax him after long, stressful days and he only hopes he does the same for you

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Kita’s dick is pretty thick and it stretches you out well. His cock is around 6.6 inches long. Kita is a very clean man, shaving and taking care of himself to make sure that he smells fresh not only for you, but for himself as well. He shaves his balls quite frequently as well. He is also pretty healthy, so his cum wouldn’t have a distinctly gross taste to it, and because it’s so rare that you really get that much in your mouth, it always shocks you by being sort of sweet. Kita is good with his cock, knowing just how deep to push it inside of you at what pace to make you lose your mind around him

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive truthfully isn’t very high. He would have sex with you whenever you asked, however he would only initiate it maybe once or twice a week. Both because he loves to simply curl up with you and enjoy a nice quiet night together where you talk to each other about your new interests and how each others separate days were, but also because he doesn’t want you to think that he’s only in this for your body. As much as he does love having sex with you and he loves pleasuring you, Kita would never want you to feel like anything less than the love of his life and more of a sex object

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t fall asleep until you do. He has no trouble staying awake if you’re struggling, and he’ll do anything he can to help you out. Whether that be getting a small snack because you’re hungry, making you some tea, humming to you and softly rubbing your back while you curled up in his warm arms, or getting up with you to make some tea to help you sleep. He’d whisper sweet words about how much he loves you, sometimes listing off things he loves the most about you before you fall asleep. He’ll also massage your head to help you sleep if you wanted him to, and he loves to hold hands while you’re sleeping together

[masterofmunson]

driver’s license ~ part one

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Summary: Things between you and Harry were going great. That was the case until he blindsided you and broke your heart by leaving you for his co-star. Based off the song Driver’s License by Olivia Rodrigo.

Warnings: language and angst. covid doesn’t exist.

Word Count: 4.4k+

Author’s Note: Here she is! I’m sorry it’s so delayed. School has really been kicking my ass. Consider this my anti-valentine’s day fic. This will be a two or three part mini series, I haven’t decided yet. Please let me know what you think! Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

It felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest. It’d been several weeks since you saw Harry last. He returned to film Don’t Worry Darling and you were left feeling empty and buried yourself in your work. Whatever was happening between you and Harry was up in the air.

You’re friends. You’re the best of friends, at least you were for a while. He wrote a song for you. You kissed him. He kissed you back. You were happy, and then all of a sudden he became a stranger to you. You don’t recognize the person you’ve come to know.

“Harry? I thought you couldn’t take me driving today?” you asked one evening as he stands on your doorstep with slumped shoulders and a nervous gaze. You’d texted him earlier about driving around the area and his answer was short, but not out of the ordinary for him.

Now, staring at him, something was clearly wrong and he looked like he would rather be anywhere than in front of you on your porch. “Is everything alright?”

He lets out a nervous breath and bites the inside of his cheek. You open the door wide enough for him to step inside. He rings his fingers together. “Sorry, I should’ve called,” he said, his eyes roam around the foyer of your apartment.

Your brows knit together. He’s acting strange. He shows up unannounced all the time and it’s never bothered you before. You’re friends and slowly testing the waters to be something more.

“Harry, what’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”

The silence is deafening and it sends a chill down your spine. He looks down at the floor and the lump in your throat grows. You fight back tears. You know exactly what the silence means. He’s having second thoughts about pursuing a relationship with you. Your worst fear is coming true.

“You’re having second thoughts about our relationship, aren’t you?”

Harry swallows hard, nodding slowly. “Sort of. I don’t regret it, and I still very much have feelings for you, but I’ve had time to think. I just don’t think it would be fair to start our relationship right now. I don’t want to distract you from what’s important to you and I have the press tour coming up as well as my tour. I want you to be happy and you won’t see me for months at a time.”

You don’t really know what to say. You want to scream and shout at him. None of that mattered before the two of you kissed. He would see you whenever his schedule allowed and you traveled to see him whenever you could. He was your best friend and you made an effort to make your friendship the way it is.

You’re used to the distance. You’re used to the texts, phone calls, and FaceTiming him. It’s how you stay in touch when you’re thousands of miles apart. Why would it be any different now that you’re together?

You try not to cry. It’s such a piss poor excuse to end things between the two of you. After all you’ve been through together, he’s ending it because he’s scared.

“Are you kidding me, Harry? You’re ending whatever this is because you’re scared? I made the choice to kiss you that night. You made the choice to kiss me back. You’re my best friend. I don’t care about the distance. I want you,” you confessed. A tear falls on your cheek and you turn your head away from him to wipe it away.

Harry sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry. You deserve better. You deserve stability and I can’t give you that, at least not right now.”

You let out a shaky breath to try and mask the sob creeping up your throat. More tears gather in your eyes and against your better judgement, you let Harry reach for your face. His thumb brushes against the shell of your cheek and you lean into his touch. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and you hold the hand pressed against your cheek.

A few tears fall and he gently wipes them with the pad of his finger. You sniff quietly and come to your senses and pull away from him. You wipe your nose and let out an awkward laugh. You rock back on your heels and nod towards the door.

“You should go.”

He nods slowly and walks towards the door. He opens the door and turns to look at you one more time before he leaves. You look away. He’s seen enough. You can’t let him see you break further. It doesn’t matter if he’s your best friend. He’s breaking your heart.

The door shuts behind him and you gasp for air as you let the tears fall. You grab at your shirt and fall to the floor. You bring your knees to your chest and cry and cry.

You never thought the person you loved and cared for the most in the world would be the one to hurt you. He gave you a bad excuse. Why did he change his mind? Was it something you said or did? Was it because you weren’t an A list celebrity? You were just a small time producer working in your family owned studio.

It was by chance that a friendship blossomed with the rock star Harry Styles. His own music producer called in sick one day and you filled in for him. You had been friends ever since and occasionally helped him with music every now and then when you weren’t busy with other clients. It was one of the reasons why you had yet to get your driver's license. You were too busy to take the time to learn and you lived in the city so you didn’t really see a need to get your license. You could Uber or bum rides from your brother to the office if you had to.

Did you read too much into things? Harry had written a song for and about you. He told you that much. It was sweet and romantic. You kissed him and it was reciprocated. You didn’t trick or trap him into doing something he didn’t want to do. He confessed his feelings and then you kissed some more.

How would things pan out between the two of you now that he’d broken things off? You couldn’t go back to how things were before. You can’t forget the way he kissed you. You can’t just forget and ignore the way he made you feel. Maybe he would, you thought bitterly.

Harry was notorious for sweeping things under the rug and acting like nothing happened. If he doesn’t address it, it didn’t happen. You won’t let him do that to you. It’s cruel and painful. It’s pure torture.

Now, several weeks have passed since Harry showed up at your doorstep and broke your heart. Since then, you’ve put distance between the two of you. You don’t go out of your way to reach out to him and if he sends you a message, you take hours to reply. Your older brother Malcolm has taken Harry’s place as your driving instructor and he doesn’t ask what happened and you appreciate it.

It’s still a sore subject and you go out of your way to avoid Harry when you know he’s scheduled to work in one of the studios. Everyone’s noticed the change in behavior but no one asks questions. You keep your head down and busy yourself with work. It keeps you from dwelling on what could’ve been. You don’t have the time for such things at work.

It’s a different story altogether when you’re at home alone. Everything reminds you of Harry and you feel utterly pathetic. You drown your sorrows into cheap wine and poorly written romcoms. It’s easier than doing something stupid like drunk texting him.

Now, in hindsight you definitely shouldn’t have been drinking on a lonely Tuesday night. You hadn’t planned on finishing the bottle, but you lost track of time and soon enough you were opening wine bottle number two and finishing it just as easily as you did the first. You know better than to come into work with a raging hangover, but you couldn’t call off. You had a scheduled client that had been on the books for weeks.

Stumbling into the building, you push your sunglasses up the bridge of your noise and trudge to your office. You turn the lights on and close the curtains. Collapsing into your chair, you groan loudly and pull your water bottle out of your work bag and take a long sip.

There’s a gentle knock on the door and you look at your brother through your sunglasses. He laughs softly and steps inside, shutting the door behind him before taking the seat in front of your desk. He leans back into the seat and playfully kicks his feet up on your office table.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls upon the room and Malcolm drinks his coffee slowly. “Can I ask what happened between you and Harry? Wasn’t he teaching you how to drive?”

The question makes your heart drop deep inside your chest. You figured that Malcolm knew that something had happened between you and Harry. You were never in the office when Harry stopped by. Malcolm knew that you were close with Harry, but he didn’t know the extent of your relationship.

You were still figuring out what to label what the two of you were when Harry broke things off. It was still hush hush and kept between the two of you. Nothing fundamentally changed your relationship with each other. All your friends and family as well as his knew that the two of you were incredibly close. No one would’ve known you were seeing each other.

You let out a deep sigh. You tell him everything. You tell him about the song he wrote for you. You tell him how you kissed. You tell him how you’d been seeing each other, going on dates, and acting as everything was normal for the last few months. You tell him how Harry came to your apartment unannounced one day and completely broke your heart just several weeks earlier.

It’s hard to get through and tell him everything with tears gathering behind the sunglasses on your face. Another wave of silence fills the room and Malcolm sits up in the chair and reaches across the table for your hands. He squeezes your hands firmly and you force a smile on your face.

“I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that,” he said. “When you’ve sobered up, let’s take you to the DMV. I don’t want this rite of passage to be tainted with bad memories. It’s about time you get your license. Your car definitely has a thick layer of dust on it.”

You laugh loudly and pull the sunglasses from your face. You wipe away the last of your tears and nod slowly. Malcolm smiles gently and it makes you feel better almost immediately. You could always count on him to make you feel better about a shitty situation you’re going through.

Several more days pass and you are finally a licensed driver. You feel like you’re on a runners high. Now you understand why Harry and the rest of your friends enjoy driving so much. You feel free driving along the coast as the sun sets every evening. It’s made you much happier in recent days.

At least it did.

It was only a matter of time before something ruined your mood. It had been touch and go in the last few days. You could breathe a little easier knowing that Malcolm knew why you were acting and behaving out of the ordinary. He understood. He’s had his fair share of heartbreaks. You don’t have to bottle it in, not when Malcolm knows and doesn’t judge you for it.

When you come to work several mornings after your trip to the DMV, you’re met with odd looks as you walk towards your office. All eyes are on you and it makes your heart drop.

What happened? Was it your dad? Was it Malcolm?

You hurry into your office and throw your things down and barely register that Malcolm is already in your office. You practically jump out of your skin as he shuts the door behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Malcolm!” you screamed, spinning around and clutching your chest. Your heart races and leaps into your throat. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Malcolm stares at you and frowns apologetically. His face is somber and his posture is rigged. He motions for you to sit down.

“You should sit down.”

You stare at him carefully. You cross your arms over your chest. “What’s going on?”

“Please sit, and then I’ll tell you.”

You huff and roll your eyes at your older brother. You collapse into your chair and motion for him to continue. He lets out a careful breath. “There’s no easy way to say this, and you were going to find out eventually, but somehow TMZ got a hold of private photos of you and Harry together.”

Confusion washes over you. You don’t understand. That doesn’t seem too bad. There’s plenty of photos of the two of you on the internet. It’s an occupational hazard and it’s expected if you’re friends with someone like Harry.

“That doesn’t seem so bad. There’s plenty of photos of us together on the internet. Being photographed together isn’t a crime. We’re close,” you reasoned.

Malcolm noticeably winces and your heart drops inside your chest. “Normally, I would agree, but these are…. different. They’re photos of the two of you kissing at Griffith Observatory.”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh shit.

You and Harry had gone on a date to the observatory just a few days after you kissed and confessed your feelings for one another. It was nearing sunset and it was nearly empty of tourists and locals alike.

You were careful not to draw attention towards yourselves. You were having fun and being silly together. You’d been taking photos together and of each other. An elderly couple even offered to take a few photos of the two of you together.

They were incredibly sweet and thankfully had no idea who Harry was. One of the photos they took was your lockscreen for the longest time. You were happy and full of bliss.

“W-What?” you stuttered in disbelief. “How? That was months ago! We were careful and no one recognized him.”

Malcolm shrugs and it doesn’t make you feel any better. Of course he doesn’t know. “There’s more.”

You groan. Could it get any worse? His fans will destroy you if they haven’t already. You lean back in your chair and Malcolm just stares at you.

“There’s photos of Harry and Olivia Wilde together. He allegedly took her as his plus one to Jeff’s wedding. They’re holding hands and look…. close. There’s rumors that they’ve been dating for the last several weeks.”

A wave of nausea washes over you. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You feel like you’re about to pass out. You feel absolutely disgusted. You don’t know what to say.

You’re hurt and you feel betrayed. Harry had abandoned you when the better option rolled past. His second thoughts about your relationship had nothing to do with the distance or his crazy schedule. It had everything to do with his beautiful, successful co-star and director Olivia Wilde.

It makes you feel sick to your stomach. You’re in no shape to work. You’re a disaster and it feels as if your heart is being stabbed a thousand times.

What happened? What happened to the man you love and who claimed to love you? Someone you love isn't supposed to hurt you the way Harry has. He makes you feel like trash thrown on the side of the road.

You scramble to your feet and hyperventilate as you grab your things from on top of your desk. You race out the door and ignore the stares as you leave the office. You ignore Malcolm shouting after you and climb into your car and take off.

Your grip on the steering wheel is tight and hurts your palms. You ignore how fast you’re going and you drive, and drive, and drive.

Nearly an hour has gone by and you pull off the highway and make the exit towards Newport Beach. You park in an empty lot near the public beach and stare out into the ocean.

You scream in the car. Your hands shake the steering wheel and you cry, and cry, and cry. You feel pathetic and used. How could you ever believe that Harry would ever want to be with someone like you? You’re practically a nobody. It doesn’t matter that your family is in the music industry. You’re not a pop star or an extremely talented director.

Your hands shake and you reach for the tiny, beat up journal tucked away in the bottom of your work bag. You open the door to your car and pop open the trunk. You grab the blanket from the back before locking up and trek up towards the shore.

You sit down in the warm sand and close your eyes. Your shoulders relax as you listen to the crashing waves nearby.

Another wave of tears find their way at the corners of your eyes. This time you don’t try to hold them back.

Your shoulders shake as you cry and you feel utterly defeated. You’ve given Harry way too much power over you. He doesn’t deserve you and you don’t deserve to be treated like someone that can be taken and put back on to a shelf.

You open your journal to a clean page and begin to write. Memories with Harry come to mind and you write, write, write.

“I can’t believe you’re working on Olivia Wilde’s new movie,” you told Harry in awe on the day he broke the news to you. “I mean, I can. It’s just amazing! Just promise me you won’t leave me for your sexy co-star,” you teased.

Harry laughs and kisses the top of your forehead. He gives you a warm and soft kiss to your mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” he whispered. “I’m crazy for you.”

You grin at him and he pulls you closer in the soft sheets of his bed. His touch engulfs you and you sink deeper and deeper into him.

Tears dampen the journal as you write and cry, write and cry. You look away briefly, rubbing at your cheek, ridding it of your tears.

What happened? What went wrong? You loved him with your entire being. Why wasn’t that enough? Why weren’t you enough?

A broken sigh leaves your lips and you turn back to your journal. You write some more. This time, a memory from before the two of you kissed comes to mind.

The two of you sat on top of the hood of his car. The beach is nearly empty as it nears sunset. You eat ice cream and watch the waves crash against the shore. Harry nudges you playfully as takes a spoonful of his strawberry and banana blizzard.

“I think it’s about time you learn how to drive,” he said with a mouthful of food.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. Of course he’d say that. He’s probably sick of being your personal chauffeur and taking you everywhere. You guess it’s time to learn.

“Yeah? Is this your way of telling me that you’re sick of driving me everywhere?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes too and smiled. It made your stomach jump. “Nooooo. I just want you to drive up to my house once in a while. Is that so bad?”

“I guess not. Who do you suggest I should ask to be my teacher?”

You were teasing him. You just wanted to get a rise out of him and it worked. He gasps and shoves you gently. You laughed and he frowned at you.

“If I haven’t made it obvious, I’m teaching you. God knows what’ll happen if you get behind the wheel with anyone else.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. That fucker. He knows exactly what to say to get you to take the bait. You scoffed and finished the rest of your ice cream and Harry does the same.

“I’ll teach you in the parking lot for now.”

By the time you’re done writing, you’ve filled nearly five pages in your journal. Words are scribbled out, phrases reworked and rephrased, lines scratched through a number of stanzas.

It’s painful. It’s sorrow. It’s complete and utter heartbreak. It’s vulnerable and raw. It’s what’s become of your relationship with Harry. It’s beautiful.

You stopped crying a while ago. The remains of your tears stain your cheeks and it doesn’t bother you. You gather your things together and return to your car.

This time as you sit in your car and grab the steering wheel, you don’t scream pathetically or shake the wheel. Instead, you look out at shore, the ache in your heart reduced to a dull throb in your chest.

When you return to the office several days later, you ignore the sea of eyes that follow behind you as you trudge to Malcolm’s office. You’re on a mission and you will see it through.

The door to his office is closed and you quickly push it open. “Hey, Malcolm, I wrote something and I want you to—”

You don’t know what you expected when you opened his office door without knocking. He’s told you countless times to knock before entering, but you’ve never listened. You should probably knock now.

Jeff sits in the chair closest to the door. He turns his head to look at you. He gives a courteous smile. Your heart drops inside your stomach and you slowly close the door.

“What’s going on?”

“I think it’s best if you sit down,” Malcolm said, motioning to the empty seat next to Jeff.

“I think I’m good standing right here,” you replied defiantly, resting your back against the door. You cross your arms over your chest and glare at the two men in front of you. They share a glance before Malcolm looks back at you.

“Jeff and I were just discussing our options on how to handle the PR situation going on with you and Harry.”

You let out a bitter laugh. Since when has any PR stunts ever been handled by Harry or his team? They’re notorious for ignoring it altogether. It’s a part of his brand. His fans even know that he sweeps things under the rug. Why would they want to handle it? Any PR is good PR, according to Jeff at least.

“Since when did you start caring about bad PR, Jeff? It is because I’m a nobody in an industry that only cares about the elite? Or is it because Harry being seen with someone who isn’t a celebrity is bad for his brand?” you asked sarcastically with an eye roll.

You feel a wave of tears threaten to fall at the corners of your eyes. Your chin quivers and you bite the inside of your cheek. Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. You’re done crying over Harry.

“Y/n, that’s not true. He’s in the middle of filming and we’ve carefully made it seem like he’s with Olivia Wilde. It’s to help promote the movie,” Jeff defended.

You click your tongue to the roof of your mouth. “Right, because everything’s about Harry and what’s best for him. Do whatever the fuck you want, just leave me out of it and don’t talk to me again.”

You leave his office and ignore the stares as you leave the building. You can’t be here, not when Jeff is just feet away from you. You’re sad, angry, and hurt. You just want to punch something.

You return to your car and scream in frustration the moment the door shuts. Harry didn’t even come to fix the situation himself. Instead he sent his manager to do all the dirty work for him. He still hasn’t said sorry for the hurt and pain he put you through. You doubt he’d even apologize for the hell you’ll get from his fans.

You drive home and change out of your work attire into comfy pajamas. You settle in front of your piano and mess around with the soundboard nearby that’s connected to your computer before pressing the record button.

It goes on like this for hours. You splice the instruments together, fixing and editing the tempo, sound, and bass here and there. It’s a tedious process, but one you love. You carefully place the headphones over your ears and swallow hard before you begin singing the lyrics on the main track. After you add a variety of harmonies and melodies to give the song more depth.

Then it’s over. The song’s finished and recorded. It’s perfect. It’s everything you imagined it would be when you wrote the lyrics on the beach. It’s vulnerable, but it’s beautiful and it’s you. You didn’t need Malcom’s help to produce the song. You did it all on your own, like always.

You lean back into your chair and stare at the computer file. You couldn’t publish it. It won’t see the light of day. You’re not meant to be singing the songs you write. You’re meant to share and produce them for artists that are infinitely more talented than you. Maybe you could sell the rights to someone like Billie Eilish or Ariana Grande. They could do the song justice.

No. It’s too vulnerable, too you. It’s only meant to be sung by you. It’s yours, no one else’s. You don’t need a second opinion. If things were still good between you and Harry, he would encourage you to release the song.

Maybe that’s why you set up your camera and took photos to create your own album art for the song. Maybe that’s why you watched the file slowly render in Apple Music, ITunes, and Spotify. You hover over the publish tab.

You hesitate. There’s no going back. Once it’s uploaded, there’s no way to delete it. The song is out there forever. People will link it to Harry in a matter of minutes, that much is obvious, but you don’t care. You’re doing this for you and no one else. If Harry could write songs about his exes, so could you.

You click publish, and exhale deeply as the song appears in the system.

There’s no going back.

[jiaraforeverr]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Author's note: Hi everyone! This is my very first fanfic so I would love to hear your thoughts! @arcticaid requested this months ago, I'm so sorry it took so long! I started writing it in May, but honestly forgot about it until after I watched season 2.

You can also find it on Ao3 here!

Pairing: JJ Maybank/Kiara Carrera

Kiara lay awake in the spare bed of the Chateau, the heavy and humid air sticking to her skin and making her whole-body flush with warmth. She could blame her inability to sleep tonight on the typical end of summer North Carolina heat, but there was something else on her mind keeping her up. With all the windows propped open as wide as they would go, she could hear the creaking of the old hammock rocking slowly back and forth, keeping her mind from thinking of anything other than the person she knew was also pretending to be sleeping right now.

A couple hours earlier, Pope had said his final goodbye before getting on the ferry to the mainland, where he would be traveling to UNC Charlotte for his first semester of college. He was finally doing what he was meant to, to pursue the future that his friends have protected and encouraged the last few years. But now he was gone, not coming back to the island for at least a couple months.

And that left Kiara and JJ.

It had been almost two years since the gold summer. Two years since they had last seen John B or Sarah. The loss of their best friend had taken a toll on all of them, but especially JJ. John B had been his brother, the first person he really was able to call family, the first person he felt safe with. Losing him had sent JJ down a dark path filled with alcohol and drugs much stronger than weed. It had taken Kiara and Pope about three months to get him back on track, and luckily that included getting him out of his dad’s house and into the Heyward’s care.

The three of them held onto the Chateau though. No one ever came asking about it, and they never brought it up. Currently, JJ was saving up to officially own it so they would no longer have the constant fear of having the last part of their best friend ripped away from them.

With Pope leaving for college, Kiara was left with the impossible task of deciding what she should be doing now. Much to her parent’s dismay, she had already that college wasn’t what she wanted- at least not right now. She can see herself going in the future, maybe getting a degree in marine biology and opening a conservation center of her own. But that was for later. Now, she knew there were still things she had to do.

Giving up the fight with herself to fall asleep, Kiara sits up in bed, sighing deeply as she presses her hands to her eyes. She could help but think about JJ. She was terrified of what leaving him alone would look like. She couldn’t risk losing another friend. A part of her knew that deep down, she just really didn’t want to leave his side at all.

Things with JJ had always been different than it had been with Pope or John B, but even more so after John B’s disappearance. They had a bond stronger than ever before, and Kiara was unsure how to deal with the feelings that had come along with it. She thinks that they’ve probably always been there in the back of her mind. Every flirty comment or wink JJ had given her growing up had always been accompanied by a small tug in her stomach that she now has a sneaking suspicion wasn’t due to annoyance.

Walking through the empty, quiet house, she took no precautions to avoid the loud floorboards like she normally would, and with an ache in her heart realized it was because no one else was here. As she got closer to the back door, quiet music filled the air, confirming that JJ was most definitely not asleep.

She silently made her way towards the hammock where JJ lay with both eyes closed, but he still opened one eye knowingly as she stopped next to him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” JJ murmurs softly.

“No, I just willingly woke up in the middle of the night for fun,” she responds sarcastically, but with no real bite to it.

“Hmm,” JJ closes his eyes again, “I can’t imagine hating myself that much. What a horrible life you lead.”

“What about you, what’s got you up?” Kiara ignores his quip at her, wanting to get to what was on his mind.

He didn’t respond right away, the silence sitting comfortably between them for a few moments. Kiara reaches down and brushes her fingers softly through his blonde hair, prompting him to finally respond.

“What do we do now Kie?” His whispers, just loud enough so she can hear him.

“What do you mean?” She murmurs back, as if she was afraid speaking too loudly would cause him to retreat back into his mind and close up on her.

“Like, we’re not kids anymore. Pope’s gone, you’ll be outta here traveling the world or whatever soon enough. I just feel like I’ve got nothin’ going for me when everyone else does.”

JJ’s admission makes her heart stop, and her breath catch in her throat. It had been a while since John B’s death, but that in no way meant they were over it. And now JJ was facing the very real possibility that he could be losing his remaining friends as well.

Wordlessly, Kiara reaches down again and gently tugs on JJ’s hand, indicating that she wanted him to get up. Predictably, he groaned in protest, but still slowly pulled himself up from the hammock. They both knew he would do anything she asked of him. Kiara leaned over and slightly turned up the volume of the speaker JJ had set up at the base of the tree. The sound of soft reggae music filled the air making her smile. She didn’t think before stepping closer to JJ so they were chest to chest with their noses just about touching. She wound both arms slowly around his neck securing him to her.

“What are you doing?” JJ asks her, a small smile creeping up on his face as his arms automatically wrap around her waist, closing the small gap between them.

“Dancing,” she responds, burying her nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of the ocean, smoke, and a hint of sweat. She sways their bodies side to side, and feels him drop his head into the top of hers.

“Why are we dancing?” He mumbles, moving his body with hers.

She ignores his question, and just lets the two of them get lost in the soft music and the feeling of being close to one another. A warm breeze rustles the trees above them causing JJ to grip his arms tighter around her. The fairy lights twinkle in the branches, and Kiara thinks to herself ‘how could it get better than this?’

“JJ,” she whispers into his neck, “how could you ever think that I would leave you?”

“Because this isn’t where you belong, Kie. You should be exploring the world, saving the turtles and probably every other animal along the way.”

“I belong where you are,” she says, her voice just loud enough so that he could hear her. “And if I’m leaving the Outer Banks, so are you.”

“There’s nothing out there for me. I’d be dragging you down.”

“You’ve never been out there, how would you know? You could teach surfing lessons and fix boats in a new country every month. We could ride bikes and never have to worry about a car again. Imagine, me and you hitting every country that has an ocean, surfing every wave we can find around the world. John B would be so proud of us.”

Her voice trails off at the mention of their dead best friend, worried she hit a nerve. But JJ just pulls his head away from hers just enough so that he could press his lips softly to her forehead.

“He really would, wouldn’t he?” JJ says with his mouth against her neck now.

“We’ll make it work, J. We always do. I don’t want to do things like travel the world if I’m not doing it with you by my side.”

“When do we leave, captain?” JJ asks jokingly, but in a way that makes her believe he is serious.

“Planning starts bright and early tomorrow, and I think we’d be much more productive if we got some sleep.”

He says nothing in response and the silence sits between them again as they continue to hold each other.

“Can we do this? In every country all over the world?” JJ asks quietly.

“Do what? Dance?”

“No. I- yes. But I mean more like, just like- be together? Like this?”

Kiara didn’t even try to fight the smile that spread across her face at his words. She pressed a kiss on his neck, right below his ear. She knew what their relationship was right now was complicated, but in that moment, nothing made more sense. She was his and he was hers. Simple as that.

“We’ll always be together. We can be like this for the rest of our lives. On our surf trip to every country around the world, and after it and before. I said I’d never leave you, and I meant it.”

[j-amespotter]

★ cardigan - s. b.

“i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.” 

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

x. x. x.

Summary: Your relationship with Sirius is on the rocks, but you loved him and at the end of the day, he was always there. For your own happiness, something had to change. 

Genre/Warnings: angst, alcohol, language, toxic relationship 

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: this took a lot, and i mean a lot of energy. not sure how i feel about it (i am my worst critic) but i really didn’t want a pushover protagonist. ps... communicating with your partner is hot! let me know what you think (and if you think i should make a taglist) :) 

masterlist

“Ravenclaw girl this time. Blonde… I think I recognize her. Couldn’t see the front of her robes, she might be one of the fifth-year prefects. You know I’m terrible with names. Ask James, he finds it hilarious.”

“You should work for the Prophet, Lils,” you said, without looking up from your toast, which was becoming more and more tasteless with every bite. “What were they doing?” 

“Talking,” answered Lily pointedly. “He ended the conversation fairly quickly when he saw me looking, though.” 

You sighed. This discussion was becoming too routine for your liking, most often with Lily, occasionally with Remus. “Well, if they were just talking, then I don’t see the issue. Lily, it is early. We have double Potions this morning. I really don’t want to deal with your weird suspicions about my boyfriend right now.” 

If Lily sensed your underlying irritation, she chose to ignore it. “I just think you deserve better, that’s all. I mean, James–” 

You finally turned and stared defiantly into your best friend’s vibrant green eyes. “Lily, I hate to break it to you, but James is the exception, not the rule. Just because he’s some angel on earth doesn’t mean all boyfriends are like that, and that’s not even considering the fact that he’s been hopelessly in love with you since second year…” 

Huffing, Lily picked at the fruit off of her plate. “Okay, I get it. I won’t bring it up again.” It was sweet how much Lily cared. James doted on her day and night. It would have been easy to forget about her friend’s love-related quandaries. But that was Lily Evans – always considerate of others.

Truthfully, you were tired. You knew what ‘talking’ with Sirius Black entailed. It did not make you feel as secure as you indicated to Lily. As time went on, it was getting increasingly harder to defend Sirius’s overly-careless behavior. If he wasn’t chatting up girls in random corners of the castle, he stood you up on your scheduled study dates in favor of detention with James. There was only a little comfort in the fact that he wasn’t always like this. If he was, would you have even dated him? Deep down, you knew that as much as Sirius was a thrill-chaser, he was incredibly capable of being a loving boyfriend. For that reason alone, you bore the incredibly painful motions of being in a relationship with him. 

He briefly reminded you of his better qualities when you opened your Potions textbook and felt a feathery kiss on your neck. “Guess who?” whispered Sirius sultrily into your ear. 

You couldn’t help the automatic flush that made its way onto your cheeks. “Hmm… is it Remus?” you whispered back, stifling a giggle. 

“Don’t tease,” he grunted before planting a swift kiss on your cheek. He plopped onto the chair next to you and faced you with a lazy grin. “You look disappointed, love. I’m afraid your usual Potions partner is a bit preoccupied at the moment.” He gestured across the room, where you spotted Lily practically hanging off of James’s lap, distracting herself until the start of her favorite class with his lips. 

“They’re hopeless,” you commented airily, in an attempt to disguise your envy. You felt Sirius’s gaze burning into you. “Missed you at breakfast this morning,” you added in a casual tone.

“Oh, well, you know–” 

“No, I don’t know,” you interrupted, bitterness leaking from your clipped voice. You always let Sirius off too easily. “But I certainly can’t wait to hear your ready-made list of vague excuses. Please, do continue.” There. He had it coming. He deserved for you to throw him off track.

“Baby, it was nothing,” assured Sirius rather predictably. “Just Pippa asking for help with Transfiguration. Honest.” He placed a hand on his heart in mock sincerity, which only angered you further. 

Nevertheless, you chose not to argue. He was incredibly brilliant with his words. There was no way he would understand your plight. Instead, you absentmindedly flipped through your Potions textbook as Slughorn finally entered his unruly classroom. 

Sirius seemed uncharacteristically bothered by your lack of response. With a half-glance at James and Lily, he entwined his fingers into yours. “They’re in their honeymoon phase, you know. You really can’t compare.” 

“There is no comparison, Sirius. James prioritizes Lily. I can’t remember the last time you prioritized me,” you whispered. There was a finality in your tone that you hoped he would hear. It was the most you were willing to discuss the matter. 

Sirius Black was a lot of things, least of all oblivious. He gently squeezed your hand. Silently, he slipped his fingers out of yours, choosing to follow your lead and not pursue the issue any further. 

A part of you was proud of the fact that you finally found it in you to voice your concerns to him, but another larger part dreaded the irreversible distance it put between the two of you for the rest of the day. You weren’t necessarily avoiding each other. Though his smiles were significantly more tender, he seemed reluctant to talk, let alone touch you.

Sick of the mental torment you were subjecting yourself to, you stuffed your unfinished Charms essay into your bag and headed to your dormitory, choosing to retire for bed early. Mid-yawn, you spotted a single red rose on your unmade bed. You didn’t have to read the attached note to know who it was from but felt your heart thudding against your chest as you unfolded the small piece of parchment. 

I’m sorry. I love you. 

There was no signature, but you could recognize his meticulously-slanted script anywhere. You stared at the note adoringly before pressing your lips to the corner of the crumply parchment and marking it with the remnants of your lip gloss. 

Suddenly, you were no longer tired. Skipping down the stairs, you found yourself wishing for a certain map that would tell you the exact location of the only person you wanted to see.

Fate seemed to be on your side when you saw him in the common room, his head bowed as if he was praying. “You’re here!” 

He gazed up at you, his shoulders relaxing when he noticed the smile on your face. “I’m really–” 

You didn’t let him finish. You kissed him hard, throwing your arms around his neck. You felt him smile against your lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from him. “Don’t worry about it. I was being silly.” 

Sirius’s grin widened. “You’re quite low maintenance, y’know. I thought it would take at least a week and a hundred roses. And if not roses, then daisies, sunflowers, peonies… I was ready to pull all the stops. For future reference, a good snog is all it takes to win me over.” 

You laughed heartily, though you struggled to keep up with his train of thought. You always appreciated his good-natured ability to poke fun at the gravest circumstances. “I just missed you.” 

“Me too, darling. I’ll do better this time, I promise.” 

☆

True to his word, Sirius showered you with a level of affection that could rival James’s for Lily. He spent every spare moment with you in his bed, sneaking into the kitchen for secret dinners, and pushing you against bookshelves in the back of the library, homework-be-damned.

On Tuesday night, you sat on the Astronomy Tower. You glanced at your watch, realizing that Sirius was nearly an hour late. Your eyelids were drooping shut. It had been a long day. Everything in your brain felt scattered. You could’ve been catching up on the mounds of schoolwork you were now falling behind on. Sirius… Did he say midnight? Did you hear him correctly? Maybe he meant for you to pencil it in. Maybe he was hurt. Was it Remus? You stared at the sky, peering at the crescent shape of the moon. It taunted you. Stop kidding yourself. He’s not coming. 

Just as you were about to call it a night, Sirius stumbled into the Tower and onto the floor. Startled, you helped him up. “There you are! Are you alright? I was so worried… Are you drunk?” 

His grey eyes shone in the soft moonlight. The cloudy expression on his face paired with the sloppy grin he sent your way spoke for him. “Lost track of time… we snuck into Hogsmeade,” he slurred. “Rosmerta slipped us some firewhiskey. Here, I brought us a bottle...” He reached into his robes, only to come out empty-handed. “Uh-oh… finished it. Sorry, baby.”

You processed his words very slowly, realization dawning on you with the weight of heavy bricks. “Un-fucking-believable.” 

“Hey! We’re all of age.” He threw up his hands in surrender and widened his eyes innocently. “Next time, darling. I promise.” 

“It’s not about the fucking drink, Sirius! You’re here so you obviously haven’t forgotten that we had plans tonight! I don’t care if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but you should’ve told me. I’ve been waiting here like an idiot for an hour. I’m exhausted!”

“Told you,” he grumbled, now irritated, “we lost track of time.” 

You stared at him, unable to comprehend his complete shift in attitude. “Whatever,” you said finally. “I’m going to bed.” 

Spinning on your heels, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you prepared to march away from him with your chin up. Before you could take too many steps, however, a firm hand grasped your wrist. The intensity of the force pulling you back to him felt so otherworldly that you could hardly believe it was a wasted Sirius. 

You had a fleeting thought of pushing him away but instead tilted your head so he could pepper kisses onto the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again, between his fluttering pecks along your jawline. 

His lips found yours. His hand released your limp wrist as his fingers gently trailed up your arm. “So beautiful,” he murmured, gazing directly into your eyes. You practically melted as your body fell into his. Like always, his arms were ready to catch you, drunk or otherwise. 

☆

“No Sirius yet?” asked your mother, sipping her drink cheerily.

You refused to look her in the eye in fear of giving something away. “No, not yet. Should be here soon, though.” 

“Better be,” said your father, slipping away from a party guest. “He’ll miss cake.”

It was your parents’ twentieth-anniversary party, an occasion made doubly special as their one and only daughter was now officially a Hogwarts graduate. You had planned the party and made Sirius promise that he would not only attend, but also arrive early to help greet your guests as your boyfriend. 

You knew that your parents did not initially approve of Sirius, but as your relationship strengthened, so did Sirius’s standing in your family. Now, post-Hogwarts, you were desperate to not only show your parents that the two of you were committed to one another but also feel yourself that your love would endure the many challenges of adulthood. 

As the last of your family friends trickled out of your childhood home, you failed to hide your disappointment at his loud absence. Like many months earlier, your mind see-sawed between possibilities, some pathetic, others worrying. You were in the middle of a war, after all. You always believed Sirius’s recklessness would be his downfall. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, your worries subsided when you saw him slip into the parlor with a present in hand and a sheepish smile directed at you and your parents. “Happy anniversary! Sorry I’m late, you won’t believe– hey, where’s the party?” 

“It’s over,” you announced bitterly. 

Your mum and dad sensed the tension and tactfully exited the room. “We saved you some cake, dear,” your mother said to Sirius, after politely thanking him for his present. 

“So,” you started as you heard your parents’ footsteps fade away, “where were you? Actually, don’t answer that. Let me talk first. This was important to me, Sirius. You knew that! What will I say to Mum and Dad? Don’t I matter to you at all? Is it always going to be like this?” 

“Slow down,” whispered Sirius. “I’ll explain everything – just listen! I was with James, okay? We were only mucking around on the bike. I was on the way, I swear! But then these Muggle Aurors – police, they’re called – they started chasing us! We were getting away but these three blokes – Death Eaters – caught up to us. Long story short, we got into quite a scuffle and…” He looked at you in an attempt to gauge your reaction. 

Your mouth hung open as you absorbed his story. Regardless of your anger, he presented a legitimate case for himself that you could not quash. “Death Eaters? Thank Merlin you’re alright. How on earth did you get away?” 

“I’ll tell you everything. Your mum mentioned something about cake?”

You stood on your toes, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his chest. “In the kitchen,” you answered softly. “I wish you would be more careful.” 

He kissed your temple. “Don’t worry,” said Sirius dismissively, “I handled it, didn’t I?” 

☆

“So, what do you think?” 

You and Sirius were standing in the middle of his new studio flat. Primely-located and newly-furnished, it was the picture-perfect bachelor pad. Sirius now had a place to call his own, thanks to a bountiful inheritance from his Uncle Alphard. The walls were bare and the lighting dim, adding an overall sensuality to the atmosphere. 

“It’s nice,” you remarked sincerely, smoothing his plain black bed sheets. You peeked into his wardrobe, smirking to yourself as you noticed it was half-empty. “Lost the rest of your clothes, babe?” 

“No,” answered Sirius quietly. “It’s for you.”

“What is?” 

“The closet space. It’s for your clothes.” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“For when I come to visit,” you amended automatically. 

You turned to see Sirius scratching the back of his head. “No, for when you live here. With me.” 

“W-What?” Your mind was reeling. You leaned against his side table to steady yourself. “Me? Move in with you?” 

“Well… yeah,” said Sirius as he slowly regained his signature confidence. “We’ve been together for ages, seems about right. Besides, James and Lily are getting a place together.” 

You did not understand why you weren’t over the moon. It was what you always wanted from him – a tell-tale symbol of his otherwise-flaky commitment to you, a sign of your sparkling love. It was the beginning of the next chapter of your lives, and you were meant to start it together. On paper, it was perfect. There was no explanation for the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

Suddenly, the words that would never come were on the tip of your tongue. The answer was clear as day. “No.” 

“What?” 

It was an extremely difficult task to catch Sirius Black off-guard, a feat you used to motivate your argument. “No, Sirius. I won’t move in with you.” 

Shock was written all over his face. “What the hell? Why?” 

“Because… you didn’t even ask me!” 

Sirius stared at you blankly for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Alright… (Y/N), will you please do me the honor of sharing an address with me? Is that it, then? Shall I get down on one knee?” 

“No, Sirius. That’s not the point,” you said firmly. “The point is that you didn’t ask me. You just assumed that I would say yes – don’t interrupt. I know we’ve been together for years, but can’t you see? You make me so incredibly happy and yet, so unbelievably unhappy at the same time. You’re so good to me, and then so horrible, and then amazing again… I can hardly keep up anymore. I’m a fucking doormat and I’m sick of it! It’s humiliating. I’m tired of feeling humiliated in front of people I care about. It’s starting to become too high a price of being in love with you.” 

You ended shakily, afraid to look at him. When you dared, you saw him wearing an unfamiliar expression. The silence washed over you both for an eternity. You had the horrible thought that perhaps this was it. Perhaps, you crossed a line. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how broken you both were, how broken you were, and now… well, he couldn’t unsee it now. You were over. Without a word, you headed for the door with your head down.

“Wait,” shouted Sirius hoarsely. “Don’t go. I-I’m not sure what to say to make you stay.”

“Try being honest,” you whispered weakly. 

He swallowed nervously. “Okay, here goes. I know that I haven’t put enough effort into this relationship… I know that. I realize that I take you for granted and that you deserve better. I don’t blame you for thinking that. I would never have blamed you for thinking that. But here’s the truth – I am so far gone when it comes to you, you have no idea. I am so in love with you. I think about you morning, noon, and night. And the thing is, here we are, fighting for Muggles and Muggleborns and the good of the world… but above all, I am so utterly afraid of losing you. I think that’s why, actually. That’s why I keep you at arm’s length. I don’t think I mean to, but it just happens. Because I’ve never met anyone who loves me as much as you do, not even my mother. Especially not my mother. I’m torn between keeping you close and pushing you away because the truth is, you’ll always deserve better than me. And I’ve always been afraid of you realizing that.”

His truth was careful but sincere. Your hand slipped off the doorknob. Still, it was not the first time Sirius had rendered you speechless. “How do I know you mean it? That it’s more than just words to you?”

“Let me prove it to you,” he said meaningfully, grey eyes glistening. 

You took slow steps toward him, and he embraced you with the hope of filling all the gaps he may have left open. “Okay,” you said, your voice muffled into his shirt. “Just… leave the closet half-empty for a little while.” 

[mymoonagedaydream]

Home (Part 1)

Summary: Two years ago, you’d left behind your hometown and the love of your life to pursue your dream career, but returning for Christmas really made you start to second-guess that decision.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: A Christmassy one for ya’ll! This story is inspired by the requests above from @shawnie--jo, thank you for those and for the inspo! I couldn’t fit everything into a oneshot, so this may end up being three or four parts.

---

You stuffed your bag into the overhead locker and collapsed into your seat, completely exhausted.

Some chaos was to be expected when travelling so close to Christmas, but still, you really could've done without the three hour check-in queues and the chorus of screaming babies.

Leaning back in your chair and pulling on your headphones, you squeezed your eyes shut and just tried to think about all the things that would make this journey worth it, all the things you’d missed about Christmas with your parents.

The excitement on their faces as they greet you at the airport, your mother’s incredible home-cooking, your father’s insistence on playing charades three or more times a day. It was your first time visiting home since moving away two years ago, and you wanted the whole cosy, corny nine yards.

There was just one teensy little caveat to your relaxing family holiday- two years away from home meant two years since you'd seen Bucky.

You were childhood sweethearts, head over heels in love with each other for as long as you could remember and best friends for even longer. When you were offered a job across the country, you wanted so much for him to move with you, but he’d already promised his father that he’d take over the family car-repair business. 

It was the most difficult decision of your life, but eventually the two of you agreed there was no choice but to separate. 

Being away from him tore you apart for the first few months, but now you'd finally gotten back on your feet, and you were ready to come face to face with your past again.

Or so you thought.

---

Your parents pulled you into a tight bear-hug as soon as you walked through arrivals, taking your bags, talking your ear off and quickly ushering you to the car.

Amongst all the excited babbling, you just about managed to discern that they’d planned a welcome home party for you that night with half the neighbourhood, an announcement which triggered a mix of dread and excitement to begin churning in your stomach.

You were looking forward to seeing your oldest friend again, you just hoped to god that things wouldn’t be weird or awkward between the two of you.

After a short drive, the car pulled up outside your childhood home. Just seeing it from the outside made you feel all warm and cosy but, as soon as you glanced through the door, those feelings were amplified off the charts. 

The place looked incredible. Your mother had obviously put so much effort into making it look cosy and festive, you even felt yourself tearing up a little when you stepped inside. It was so elaborate, you had half a mind to interrogate her about a possible Christmas with the Kranks scenario going down prior to your arrival, but you decided it was probably best to just keep your mouth shut.

After you’d looked around properly and unpacked, it was only a matter of hours before the first guests started arriving.

You downed two beers to loosen yourself up a little. Each time the bell went, your eyes snapped towards the door, the sound making your heart leap out of your chest. It felt like you were waiting to find out whether that hard mass in the bottom of your stocking was a big-ass diamond or a lump of coal. 

When Bucky finally appeared in the doorway, your jaw almost hit the shag carpet. The last two years had been unreasonably good to him, he looked like James Dean but somehow even more buff. 

The boy you'd left behind had become a man in your absence and sweet Jesus it was really making you feel some kind of way. 

His eyes were frantically scanning the room but he hadn't spotted you yet, so you took the opportunity to sneak up behind him and tap him on the shoulder.

‘Hey, stranger.’

He swivelled round, his eyes lighting up when they met yours. Before he said a word, you were pulled into a tight hug, audibly gasping when you were lifted clean off the ground.

‘Where the hell you been, Lilypad?’

You burst out laughing, remembering falling into a pond on your seventh birthday and him never, ever letting you live down. A wave of happy memories flooded your mind, making you smile widely as he set you down.

‘Still the same old Yucky.’

‘Hey, we agreed you wouldn't call me that anymore.’

‘I'll stop calling you Yucky when you stop calling me Lilypad.’

The corners of his mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. ‘Never.’

And just like that, it felt as though you'd never left.

You were excited to be with your old friend again, you were happy that there seemed to be no awkwardness between the two of you, and you were really doing your very best to suppress all the other intense feelings that had surfaced as soon as he’d walked through the door.

‘Come on, I'll get you a drink.’ You grabbed his arm and dragged him through to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge while he leant against the counter next to you. ‘Are you still working for your dad?’

‘Yep. He's hoping to retire in the next few years, so I'll finally be taking over.’

‘That's so great, you're pretty much set for life with that place.’

He nodded faintly, burying his hands in his pockets and flicking his gaze down to the floor. ‘So how, uh- how long are you back for?’

‘I'm flying back early on the 31st.’

‘You’re not even staying for New Year?’ The hint of disappointment in his voice made you immediately stop what you were doing and look over to him, his face going a little red as he shifted around awkwardly. ‘Ah, I bet you got loads of invites to big, crazy city parties.’

‘If you call staring at a computer screen until 3am and slowly spiralling into madness a party.’

You passed him a beer, his eyes staying fixed on the bottle as he mumbled. ‘All the work will be worth it one day though, right?’

‘I hope so.’

Your eyes locked, a heavy silence falling between you. This was exactly the kind of uncomfortable atmosphere you were dreading.

Panicking a little, you vaguely gestured towards the living room. ‘I should probably, y’know, mingle.’

‘Sure. I'll find you later though Lilypad, we gotta catch up some more.’

You gave him a warm smile and nodded, turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

The next couple of hours seemed to blur together. You made meaningless small-talk with people you barely knew, all the time just thinking about Bucky, about how quickly things had gone from fun and light-hearted to incredibly tense.

You just hoped you could get things back on a good track before you had to leave, losing him completely was the very last thing you wanted.  

Shuffling into the kitchen to grab yourself another drink, you noticed him duck out the back door. He must've hit his socialisation limit. The two of you used to reach that point around the same time at parties, so you'd slink out together and share a cheap cigarette.

Abandoning your freshly opened beer on the counter, you followed him out, finding him tucked away around the side of the house.

‘Right on time.’

His head snapped towards you, the cigarette almost falling from his mouth as he shot you a wide smile. ‘Am I that predictable?’

‘I just know you too well.’

You leant against the wall next to him, hugging your arms tight as you felt yourself start to shiver, cause you were the kind of idiot that went outside in December wearing short-sleeves. Bucky noticed straight away, letting out a gruff chuckle as he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and wrapped it round you.

‘That cushy city life has made you soft.’ He rubbed your arms a little, trying to warm you up, before eventually bringing his hands to rest on your shoulders and fixing his gaze to yours. ‘I'm really glad you're here, Lilypad. I've missed you.’

‘I've missed you too, Buck. I've missed a lot of things about this place.’

‘So why don’t you stay longer?’

‘Believe me, I was lucky to get this much time off.’

His eyes narrowed slightly, a concerned frown spreading over his face as he folded his arms across his chest. ‘Is everything alright? I haven't heard much about this job but so far it's pretty much been all negative.’

‘Oh, I do love it, honestly I-’

‘Why would you even try lying to me? You know I can always tell.’

You couldn’t help cracking a slight smile at his smug expression. He was right, the last time you’d managed to successfully lie to him was in first grade when you told him you didn’t know where his crayon sharpener had gone, knowing full well it was stashed in your pocket.

‘It's just a lot.’ You rubbed your forehead exasperatedly. ‘Apart from the few hours of sleep I get each night, I'm pretty much constantly working. You asked earlier if it was worth it and, to be honest, I really don’t know.’

He nodded faintly, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his foot, before opening his arms towards you.

‘C'mere.’

You didn't hesitate. Launching yourself towards him, you let him enclose you, squeezing your eyes shut and wrapping your arms around his neck.

‘You'll figure it out.’ He mumbled into your neck. ‘You always do.’

‘Thank you, Buck.’

After a minute or so, you both pulled away slightly, stopping when you came face to face. A lot of things about home had slipped your mind whilst you’d been away, but you’d never forgotten how gazing into Bucky’s piercing blue eyes made you feel. 

That feeling had never changed, and you were sure it never would.

You dropped your hands to rest on his shoulders, your eyebrows shooting up when you noticed how rock-hard they were. ‘Jesus, Buck. I’ve only been gone for two years, have you been at the gym that whole time?’

‘Nope, just been working hard at the garage.’ What absolute bullshit. ‘But feel free to keep the compliments coming.’

You smirked and feebly shoved him away, turning to head back inside but stopping suddenly before taking a step. ‘Oh, you better pick that cigarette butt up or my mom will go ape shit.’

‘Good call.’

You slipped through the back door, passing his jacket back when he followed you in. The two of you couldn’t have been out there for more than a few minutes, but it seemed as though the crowd inside had really started thinning out.

Bucky’s parents strolled over when they spotted him, informing him of their intent to leave pretty soon too, so he gave you a long hug goodbye and made you promise that you'd see each other again before the end of the holidays.

The two of you had parted on a good note, which was all you’d wanted going into the party, but now you found that you were pretty keen to squeeze as many more good notes out of these next few days as you could. 

It was probably best not to delve too deeply into the feelings behind that sentiment. So you didn’t. 

You helped your parents tidy up, your eyelids drooping as the exhaustion from a long day of travelling and socialising finally set in. Just as you were about to head upstairs, your mother piped up, using her expertly crafted trying to appear casual despite being really very invested in what I’m asking tone.

‘It must've been nice seeing Bucky again.’

‘Oh yeah, definitely.’

‘He must've changed quite a bit since you were here last.’

You chuckled to yourself. ‘Physically, yeah, but he's still the same goofy dumbass he's always been.’

‘It's always a treat when he pops round, he's such a nice boy.’ A suspicious eyebrow crept up your forehead. ‘And he's still single y'know, he hasn't-’

‘Alright. That's my cue to go to bed.’

Your dad strolled over and gave you a firm pat on the back. ‘Good idea, sweetheart. Get out while you still can.’

‘Thank you. It's nice having one sane parent.’

‘Although, I do have to say, he has been very good to us since-’

‘Dad!’ He raised his arms in surrender, using one hand to zip up his mouth. ‘Lord help me. Goodnight, crazies.’

You quickly escaped up the stairs. Stumbling into your room and pulling on your pyjamas, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in the pillows and letting out a long, exhausted sign.

As you drifted off to sleep, all the stress of the day melted away, leaving a single thought to echo around your mind.

You’d really overestimated how over Bucky you were.

---

Part 2

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---

[btsqualityy]

Heaven Sent; Part 7

Jin x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings: None to note.

Jin did not expect himself to be in this position eight months after the death of his best friend. He hadn’t expected to even lose his best friend in the first place, but he really didn’t expect to have developed such strong feelings for the widow that he left behind either.

He thought that for the circumstances, everything was going as well as it could. You and Jin had been taking things slow but they were still moving along well, Aera was doing good and didn’t seem to mind the increased amount of time that he was spending with the both of them, and Jin wasn’t feeling as guilty about having feelings for you anymore. Well, at least until you started ignoring him.

“It’s been a month and I have no idea what the hell I did,” Jin groaned as he threw himself down onto the sofa at Hobi’s house, where he had met up with his friends for their annual movie night.

“Have you tried talking to her?” Jimin wondered.

“Did you not catch the part where I said that she’s been ignoring me?” Jin scoffed. “And it’s messed up because we were doing good, or at least I thought we were.”

“Well, maybe you should try a little harder,” Jungkook suggested. “It’s obvious that she makes you happy hyung.”

“She does but I can’t and I won’t push her,” Jin stated firmly. “She has enough going on, I can’t push my shit onto her.”

“Hyung, you having feelings and communicating those feelings wouldn’t be pushing them onto her,” Namjoon lightly chastised. “Your feelings are just as valid as hers.”

“But she lost her husband.”

“And you lost a bestfriend,” Hobi interjected. “I know you’re trying to be considerate but don’t discredit your own feelings hyung.”

“It’s different,” Jin tried to say.

“Different relationships maybe, but the pain is the same,” Jimin shrugged. “Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe she’s just now realizing what her having feelings for you means.”

“But that’s still not fair because Jin hyung is hurting the same too,” Jungkook spoke up.

“Have you been honest about your feelings with her hyung?” Hobi questioned and they all looked at Jin. 

“Yeah, but I always hesitate because I don’t want to scare her,” Jin confessed. “And hell, I’m still conflicted about my feelings myself. I really like Y/N-ah. I love spending time with her, she’s funny, she’s so caring, and she’s gorgeous but I can’t help but to feel like I’m sneaking behind my best friend’s back.”

“Hyung, I’m gonna say something and I don’t want you to think that I’m being disrespectful or anything but you need to hear it, alright?” Namjoon said and Jin nodded. “You cannot continue to put the feelings of someone who’s not even here anymore over your own. You deserve to be happy and if Y/N is who makes you happy and she feels the same way, then you have the right to pursue that.”

“But,-” Jin tried to say but Hobi cut him off.

“But nothing,” Hobi cut him off. “Joon-ah’s right. I know it’s hard hyung but from what you told us about him, I truly don’t think Hae-il would be completely against you seeing Y/N. Especially if it meant you caring for her and Aera in his absence.”

“You think?” Jin wondered and they all nodded their heads.

“You have to talk to her hyung,” Namjoon said. “If for nothing else, then for closure for both you and her.”

“Agreed,” Jimin and Jungkook replied at the same time. 

“You guys are right,” Jin sighed. “I’ll talk to her. I just have to....figure out how to do it.”

..................................................

Month eight was admittedly the worst you had felt since Hae-il had first died, and that was saying a lot. Although it was grief that you felt with Hae-il, it was guilt you were feeling with Jin. 

The rational part of you knew that you shouldn’t be avoiding Jin, and you truly didn’t mean to let an entire month pass without talking to him about things. It was just.....easier to continue to put the conversation off rather than face the uncomfortability of having to tell him that you thought the two of you should just go back to being just friends; especially when that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

In order to help get your mind off of things, you had been trying to make sure you spent extra time with Aera. Although she hadn’t explicitly said anything about missing Jin, you knew that she probably did. Also, you just felt like you needed to.

“Can I go play Mommy?” Aera asked excitedly, bouncing up and down as she pointed to the playground. The two of you had been on a walk to go get ice cream, but Aera got distracted by the shouts of the other kids playing. 

“Sure, but only for a few minutes and then we’re gonna go get ice cream, alright?” You told her and she nodded happily before running off. 

“Be careful!” You shouted after her with a small smile, moving over to a nearby bench and sitting down to watch over her. You had only been sitting down for about two minutes before your phone started to ring, so you pulled it out of your pocket and smiled at seeing Yoongi’s name. 

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hey, quick question and please say yes,” Yoongi begged, making you laugh. “You backed up the design plan of that house that we’re working on on your computer right?”

“Yeah, I did,” you said. “But wait, wasn’t Tae supposed to do it?”

“He was but he didn’t and I needed it,” he huffed. “So thank God you thought to back it up because I sure as hell didn’t.”

“Well, you know the password to my computer so knock yourself out,” you shrugged. 

“10 and 7, I’m in,” he announced victoriously. “Thanks Y/N-ah. What are you up to?”

“I was taking Aera out for ice cream but she saw a playground and you know how that went,” you giggled. “So I’m sitting on a bench watching her.”

“Oh yeah, you’re never gonna be able to get her to leave,” he chuckled. “Are you there by yourself?”

“Yoongi,” you groaned, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. 

“I’m just saying Y/N-ah, I wish you’d just talk to that man already,” Yoongi told you. “You’re not making things any easier by avoiding him.”

“I know but I just can’t have that conversation with him,” you admitted. “Feels like I’ve had way too many hard conversations this year.”

“That is very true but you need to do it,” Yoongi replied. “You’re both grown adults and avoiding him would be childish. Besides, we all know the real reason why you won’t talk to him.”

“And what’s that?”

“You still have feelings for him, you just feel bad for having said feelings,” Yoongi stated. “And I could still deck your punk ass mother-in-law for coming at you like that.”

“Yoongi!” You chuckled. “She had a point.”

“Maybe so, but questioning the love that you had for her son wasn’t the way to go about it,” he scoffed. “So like I said, I could still deck her.”

“As tempting as that is, it wouldn’t solve anything,” you giggled.

“You’re right. You going and talking to Jin would do that,” Yoongi said. 

“Yoongi, you know I can’t,-” you began to repeat for what felt like the 1000th time but you were interrupted by a shrill cry of your name.

“Mommy!!!” You heard Aera’s voice scream and your heart instantly leapt up into your throat. 

“Yoongi, I gotta go!” You said, hanging up the phone and jumping up, sprinting over to the playground and leaping down to the sand. You looked around wildly, until another cry of your name made your head whip over to the left where Aera was laying underneath the monkey bars.

“Oh my gosh Aera, are you alright?!” You questioned as you ran up to her, falling onto your knees as you lifted her up and hugged her to your chest.

“I-I f-f-fell off o-o-of the mon-monkey bars,” Aera sobbed into your shirt. 

“Does anything hurt really bad?” You asked her as you began to check her limbs, silently sighing in relief when you didn’t see any signs of major injuries or blood.

“N-Nooo,” she drawled and you knew then that it was probably just the scare of falling that was hurting her more than anything else. 

“Oh Love, it’s ok,” you tried to soothe her, rocking her gently in your arms. “You’re not hurt too bad so it’ll be alright.”

“I want uncle Jinnie,” she sniffled and you froze at her words, not expecting her to say that. However, you quickly recovered.

“How about we get some ice cream like we planned on doing earlier?” You suggested. “You can get two scoops.”

“Really?” She wondered as she looked up at you with teary eyes, and you nodded with a small smile as you reached up to wipe those tears away. 

“Come on Love.”

..................................................

The amazing thing about kids was that it was relatively easy to redirect their attention whenever you wanted to. This time, the medium cup with two scoops of strawberry ice cream did the trick for you, as Aera happily sat at the table with you in the small ice cream shop eating her treat.

“Feeling better?” You wondered after taking a slurp of your own vanilla cone, chuckling at how eagerly Aera nodded her head in response. 

“Yeah, it was scary,” she confessed.

“It was,” you agreed. A few seconds of silence fell over the two of you then, with Aera eating her ice cream and you trying to figure out how to ask her the question that had been floating around in your mind since she fell off of the monkey bars.

“Aera, can I ask you a question?” You wondered, waiting for her head nod before continuing. “Do you miss Jin?”

“Yeah, a lot,” she replied with no hesitation, which instantly made you feel bad. “I miss seeing him.”

“I’m sorry that you haven’t been able to see him more, it’s just....complicated,” you tried to explain to her. 

“Grown up stuff?” She guessed, which made you laugh.

“Yeah Love, grown up stuff,” you confirmed. 

“He reminds me of Daddy,” Aera admitted quietly and your eyes immediately began to get misty with tears.

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “He plays with me and makes me laugh and makes me feel special, like Daddy used to.”

“He does,” you smiled. “Aera, would you mind if Jin was around a lot? Like, all the time?”

“Like how Daddy was?” Aera wondered and you shrugged.

“Kind of,” you nodded.

“I would like it,” she stated firmly. “He’s good and makes us laugh and helps us be happy.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” You sighed, because hearing your daughter’s opinion was the exact push that you needed. “Alright Love, I’m gonna fix it so that he can keep making us happy, ok? I promise.”

[msdanvers]

Apollo x Daphne AU — goddess of music

A gentle breeze touches Lena’s flushed and clammy skin, but it brings no relief – even the air itself is stiflingly hot today. Tree leaves brush against her arms and her cheeks, tickle the soles of her feet, get tangled in her hair. Lena breathes in slowly and lets the scent of the mountains ground her as she makes her way home.

Time has given her the opportunity to memorize the world around her in ways no mortal ever could. She knows the ways rivers flow in winter, after a rainstorm, during a draught. She knows the way they used to flow, and remembers every change. She knows where they end, where they start, when they started.

She would know the way through these mountains blindfolded, on the darkest nights.

Her connection with these forests allows her to notice when something has changed within them – a new presence, or the loss of an old one. Today is one of those moments. Lena isn’t sure what it is. The grass is still scratchy and yellow in the same places as yesterday, still green and soft in others. The cypress trees are still in the same place, and so are the barn owls nesting in their hollows. Even the gray wolves haven’t moved from their resting place since this morning when she left.

Whatever it is, she decides, there is no use dwelling on it now. Lena lets her thoughts drift as she climbs over a fallen tree. Its mossy trunk feels warm on her thighs and hands – familiar, she imagines, like the touch of a lover would feel after centuries of closeness. Intimate, trusting, in a way she herself has never felt with anyone. The thought of it feels familiar even so – she has dreamed of a love like that so often, she can almost feel its warmth.

But romance happens in stories, and a watered-down version of it happens to the other nymphs around her, and nothing like it will ever happen to Lena. She has made peace with that knowledge a long time ago, and if you asked her, she wouldn’t say she’s lonely. Lena treasures the time she spends in solitude, free of judgement and expectations, free of performances. The sweltering heat of today’s noon should be spent just like that, alone.

As she makes her way across a grassy glade, she finally hears the murmur of her river. Lena sighs in relief. She has detested the summer for as long as she can remember, and today’s blinding sun does nothing to change her mind. She can’t wait to dip her tired body in the cold, rushing river water, floating in it with her eyes closed and her mind wandering.

Which is, of course, when she hears it.

Lena stops in her tracks to listen. It’s barely noticeable at first, drowned out by the sounds of singing birds and flowing water, but once she picks it up, it’s unmistakable. Music. Who could it be? Who came to her small corner of the world, only to fill the usual silence with their lyre?  

She starts walking again, a bit quicker this time, frowning as she tries to follow the sound to its source. It’s an instrument she has always enjoyed listening to and yet, Lena realizes the longer she listens, this is like nothing she has ever heard. All the satyrs that have played for her seem like children in comparison, now, like novices trying their hand at an instrument they don’t fully understand. No, this, this is what music is supposed to sound like.

Lena pauses when she catches sight of the river, one hand touching the rough bark of a tree. Her last lingering thoughts of turning the other way slip from her mind the moment she looks upstream, and finds a woman.

On a rock in the middle of the river, with her back to Lena, is the white-dressed and golden-haired lyre player. Sunlight plays with her curls and it almost looks like she’s glowing, like the source of light is not the faraway sun but this woman, playing a melody for herself and the world, unaware of her audience.

Silent, transfixed, Lena walks into the water, barely noting its cool touch as she makes her way upstream.

When the woman stops playing, there is a split second of silence in which Lena realizes there is only a few feet of space between herself and this complete stranger. Is it too late to turn away now? Why did she come this close anyway – could this woman be some kind of siren? Did she walk right into her trap?

Those nervous thoughts are forgotten the moment the woman turns around, lowering her legs into the river with a smile on her face. If she is a siren, Lena finds herself thinking, then let it be so. Let this siren lure her in with the sweetness of her song, let her ship be wrecked in the unforgiving ocean waves. She will not resent her for it.

But, like good things tend to do, the smile on the woman’s face vanishes the moment she lays eyes on Lena. Of course. This is not one of her daydreams, this is reality, in its usual painful bluntness. An all too familiar feeling takes hold of Lena’s heart – if she had to choose a word to describe it, she would say it’s disappointment. It’s deeper than that, though, and more expected.

Lena opens her mouth to say – what, she doesn’t know, but something cruel and yet indifferent enough to get this stranger to leave her alone. She doesn’t get the chance.

A sudden note, strange and off-key, paired with the sound of crushing wood, makes Lena look down at the woman’s hands. Her knuckles are white, and the lyre is completely destroyed. Lena feels her eyes widen at both the loss of such a beautiful instrument and the strength it must have taken to break it so easily. The woman doesn’t even seem to be aware of it, her eyes still focused on Lena.

This time when she studies the stranger’s face, Lena starts to wonder if she was too fast in interpreting her expression. Her smile might have fallen, but it never fell into the uninterested, slightly repulsed look that other nymphs generally give her. What she finds is more like shock, or maybe… awe? Lena feels embarrassed even thinking something as hopeful and desperate as that.

“You broke your lyre,” she says, at loss for anything bright to say.

The woman seems startled at her voice, and for one breathtaking heartbeat, she keeps staring at Lena. Then she looks down at the broken pieces of lyre in her hands. She doesn’t seem too bothered as she lays them down behind her and looks back up. “Hi.”

Lena chuckles. “Hi.”

“You have a leaf stuck in your hair.” The woman blinks after she speaks, like she wasn’t expecting herself to say that either.

“Oh.” Lena combs through her hair quickly, suddenly aware that she spent the morning walking through the forest, and probably looks the part. “Where–” she starts, but when she looks up, she suddenly finds herself face to face with the stranger’s very distracting blue eyes.

“Here,” she answers. The woman’s hand brushes against Lena’s before she runs her fingers through her hair. Lena’s eyes flutter closed unconsciously at the woman’s touch, and she exhales slowly, feeling tension leave her body that she hadn’t even been aware of.

“Look.” Lena opens her eyes to the woman’s radiant smile, and she can’t help but return it. She reaches for the leaf that the woman is holding, accidentally-purposely touching her hand more than necessary in the process.

“Thank you,” she says, unconsciously lowering her voice, and – is that a blush on the woman’s cheeks? “You play beautifully, by the way. Sorry for listening in.”

The woman smiles at her. “Well, I’ve had some practice.” It sounds like she’s joking, but Lena missed the punchline. She smiles back anyway.

“What’s your name?”

“Kara,” the woman answers.

Lena laughs, but her smile vanishes when the woman doesn’t join her. “What?” she says, feeling the leaf slip from her fingers. Water splashes around her thighs as she takes a hurried step back. Oh, no. “Kara?”

The woman nods. “What’s yours?”

“You’re an Olympian,” Lena whispers. It makes sense, in the end. Who else but the Olympian goddess of music, the inventor of the instrument itself, could play the lyre so skillfully? Who else but the goddess of the sun, Zeus’ favored daughter, could have such divine beauty – such entrancing charm?

The stranger before her is no stranger at all, but the twin of Artemis the huntress. She is the goddess that killed the mighty Python, son of Gaia herself.

“Yes. And you must be a naiad. I mean, this is a river, and you are very –” the goddess cuts herself off suddenly, frowning a little. “Are you all right?”

Lena takes another step back, her heart beating in her throat. “Forgive me,” she says. She tries to recall everything she said to Kara. Has she offended the goddess, thinking her just another nymph? Should she have bowed for her, paid her respects, offered her food?

Lena knows enough about the wrath of gods to be cautious.

Zeus pursued a girl, refused to take her ‘no’ for an answer, and in retaliation Hera transformed the girl into a cow and drove her to madness. Artemis was disturbed by an unsuspecting hunter while she was bathing, and he was torn to pieces by his own dogs. Kara herself, joined by her twin sister, had slaughtered all fourteen children of the mother who had dared to insult theirs.

Will Lena become the next name to be whispered around fires, remembered for ages for her misfortune and mistakes?

“You are frightened. Of me.” Lena looks up, but finds no ire in Kara’s eyes.

Surely, that can’t be right. Lena has laughed at her, tried to flirt with her. She can only think of one reason the goddess wouldn’t have minded that, but she doesn’t let herself believe it.

“Forgive me,” she says again, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

“There is nothing to forgive. And I’m not going to hurt you.” Kara gently puts a hand on Lena’s arm. “Look at me? There is nothing to forgive.” Lena can’t believe the goddess of archery is looking so… tender. While looking at her. “Breathe.”

Realizing that she did, indeed, forget to do that, Lena takes a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” Kara laughs.

“Are you sure I haven’t offended you? I didn’t know…”

“I’m sure.” Then she smiles mischievously. “But I could exact my revenge anyway, if that would make you feel better.”

Lena opens her mouth, and gets hit in the face with a splash of water before she can ask questions.

She spits the water out, too startled to react at first. But Kara is biting her lip, clearly trying not to laugh, and a high and nervous giggle escapes Lena’s lips before she can stop it.

Her hand shoots up to her mouth immediately, as if she could still cover up the sound that has already escaped. But Kara bursts out laughing too, loud and lovely, and Lena couldn’t keep a straight face while hearing that if her life depended on it.

“Now, I bet even a water nymph can’t have better aim than me.”

Lena smiles at her, one eyebrow raised. Her hands are already underwater, her muscles already tightened, before she thinks – this is a god, what am I doing? – and redirects the throw downwards at the very last moment. Managing to avoid Kara’s face, unfortunately, has the side-effect of splashing water all over her dress instead.

Kara looks down at the wet linen clinging to her figure, then back up at Lena, who is trying very hard not to look at it. “I must say, I was expecting better.”

Kara has barely finished her sentence when Lena hits her again, square in the face this time. Lena lets out a short, joyous laugh at the shocked expression on Kara’s face. Then, before the goddess can retaliate, she dives into the river and swims away as fast as she can. She feels the water shift behind her and knows she’s being pursued.

The muffled sounds of the underwater world mix with the fast beating of her excited heart as they shoot through the river. The water gets deeper the further she goes, rocks and plants flashing by as she swims and swims and swims. She feels strong and alive and her smile doesn’t fade until she finds her way blocked by a school of fresh-water fish.

Lena doesn’t really feel like swimming into them face-first, so she dives down to the bottom of the river. Her hands disappear in squishy mud before finding solid rock, and she pushes herself upwards again.

But the move slowed her down, and when she looks over her shoulder, a flash of white and gold is all the warning she gets before muscular arms catch her around the waist and a body slams into hers.

She barely has time to register Kara’s closeness before she realizes what’s happening. Kara was coming from beside her, and now they’re going way too fast in what is decidedly not the direction they should be going. They’re headed straight for the shore.

Kara manages to turn Lena around in her arms and pull her close before they collide with the riverside pebbles, spraying them everywhere.

It doesn’t hurt – both her head and her back have somehow made a soft landing, even though Kara ended up on top of her. They’re both panting when she opens her eyes and finds Kara’s face close to hers, her cheeks flushed and her eyes concerned.

“Are you okay?”

Lena nods and smiles. Kara smiles back and they don’t say a word, but then they’re laughing again, uncontrollably and without shame. She doesn’t just hear Kara’s laugh, she feels it, reverberating through the parts of their bodies that are touching.

When Kara wriggles her arms free from under Lena’s body, one of her hands disappears from its place under Lena’s head.

Oh. That explains the lack of pain. Kara must have taken the brunt of the impact.

“Are you okay?” Lena asks, frowning.

“Of course,” Kara answers with a lopsided smile. She is leaning on her forearms, now, hovering over Lena. The sun above her is like a halo, a crown of light that paints the edges of her silhouette golden. Lena breathes in the forest air, the familiar scent of the river joined by an unfamiliar sweetness, a sweetness that must be Kara.

Their bodies are intertwined, the river still flowing past their legs while most of Lena’s body is resting on the sun-warmed shore they crashed into. And most of Kara’s body is resting on Lena, her warmth seeping through the fabric of their clothes.

A drop of water falls from Kara’s nose and lands on Lena’s cheek. Lena chuckles, and Kara smiles with her whole face, her eyes twinkling as she wipes it away with a finger. It’s unnecessary, seeing as Lena’s whole face is still dripping with river water anyway, but she can’t bring herself to care.

Then Kara breathes out and Lena feels it.

The air brushes against her lips, and her eyes flick down to Kara’s mouth. Her heart beats in her chest like it’s trying to escape, and Lena briefly wonders if Kara can feel it too, wonders if some of what she feels is Kara’s heart, not just her own. Then she wonders what it would feel like if Kara were to lean down just a little, what she would taste like if they closed the distance and…

“I’m sorry. I should go,” Kara says.

Lena’s hands slip away from Kara’s waist when she pushes herself up, leaving Lena behind, startled and breathless. Her wet dress feels sticky and cold against her skin in the absence of Kara’s touch, the pebbles in her back suddenly too sharp, the sunlight too bright.

How could she have misread the situation so badly?

Lena sits up too, feeling her whole face flush in embarrassment. She can’t bring herself to look at Kara. She lets her hair fall between them like a shield, and looks down at her fiddling hands instead.

“Can I visit you again?”

Her gaze shoots up when Kara breaks the silence, and she finds the goddess looking at her with a tentative smile.

Lena is silent, stunned, for a long moment. Too long, probably, because Kara nods to herself and starts to get up.

“It was lovely to meet you,” Kara says, and it sounds like a farewell – why does it sound like a farewell?

“Wait,” Lena says softly.

“Don’t worry, it’s all right. I’ll just –” Kara starts walking away, and Lena’s heart skips a beat.

“No, wait!” Lena captures Kara’s hand and she almost forgets how to breathe when Kara’s eyes meet hers. “I’d… love to see you again.”

For a moment, all she hears is the rustling leaves and the river. Kara’s hand is warm and soft and still dripping with river water, and Lena wishes it were hers to hold for as long as it took to dry, and for longer after that.

“Really,” Kara breathes.

“Really.”

Kara breathes out a laugh, and it almost sounds relieved. “Then I’ll see you soon.”

Smiling, Lena squeezes Kara’s hand softly, something fluttering inside of her when Kara squeezes back and strokes the back of her hand with her thumb before letting go. Lena watches her walk away, watches her turn around one last time when she reaches the trees, watches her smile. Then she watches her disappear, like all of this was just another daydream.

But it wasn’t. Lena lifts a hand to her face, touches it where Kara touched her, and sits down slowly. She closes her eyes, and sighs.

[imagine-loki]

Shocking, One shot (TW: Rape/Non-con)

TITLE: Shocking CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One shot AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine when Loki attacks Germany, he is crazed and SO horny. He sees a young woman running away alone, so pursues her to get some action before continuing with his plan… RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: This all happened because of a dream I had… oops! lol.

Warnings: Rape/non-con, sex slave, shock collar.

Loki breathed out deeply, smirking as the mortals around him started running and screaming in terror. He held his head high and headed outside, but out of the corner of his eye he spotted a young woman darting up the side of the building.

His cock twitched, it had been far too long since he’d felt the warmth of a woman. He decided he had time for some fun before continuing on with his plan.

-

She ran up the side of the building, her breathing was heavy as she allowed herself to think… to hope that this was finally her opportunity to get away from her Master. When the strange being in a fancy suit suddenly appeared and started attacking one of the workers inside, everyone erupted into chaos in fear.

It had been the perfect opportunity for her to escape from under the arm of her Master when the crowd surged at them. She’d heard him calling after her, but ignored him and continued running with the crowd in distress.

Now she was on her own, running through the dimly lit alley.

She skidded to a halt near the other end when the man from inside suddenly materialised right on front of her. Her eyes widened in fear and she quickly started backing up as he began to approach her with large steps. When she turned and went to run back the way she came, she stopped dead as he was also there… Glancing back over her shoulder, she thought she was hallucinating as she was seeing double.

He had a wicked look on his face as he closed in on her. Then the one from behind her suddenly grabbed her and forced her against the wall, a hand wrapped around her neck just above her thick collar. The second one disappeared.

‘Well, well, well. What do we have here?’ Loki hummed as he looked her up and down approvingly, licking his lips. He had a crazed look in his eye that made her shake in pure terror.

‘P… please… Please, let me go.’ She cried out quietly.

‘No amount of begging will help you, pet. But I won’t hurt you, don’t worry. You’re far too pretty for that.’ He reached up with his other hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘I will just have my release within you before letting you go… Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you enjoy it too.’ He said sadistically.

Just as Loki was about to tear at her dress, a voice suddenly came from the side of them.

‘Get your hands off her.’

Loki turned his head to the side and sneered at the tall man. He was wearing a dark purple suit, he looked far too calm for Loki’s liking.

‘Why would I take orders from you?’ Loki chuckled.

‘Because she is mine. Let her go.’ Kilgrave snarled, eyeing him carefully.

But his power didn’t seem to work on Loki… Loki felt a weird sensation, he could tell the man had some sort of power, but it was failing on him. He raised an eyebrow and turned to face him fully, letting go of the girl. Though she didn’t move an inch now.

‘Your powers are useless on me.’ Loki growled.

Kilgrave was slightly stunned at first, but he kept cool and stepped a bit closer. ‘Clearly they are. You’re not from around here, are you?’

‘I am Loki, a God. I’ve come to rule your pathetic world. But first, I am going to take my pleasure in your little pet here.’ Loki said as he tilted his head slightly towards her. ‘And there is nothing you shall do to stop me.’

Kilgrave put his hands out to the side. ‘By all means, go ahead and use her. I wouldn’t dare try and stop a God. In-fact, I’d be honoured if you were to use my little slut. It certainly seems like you need release.’ Kilgrave said with a slight frown, motioning towards Loki’s large bulge in his trousers.

Loki cocked his head slightly, wondering if this was some trick.

‘Your powers. What are they?’ Just as he asked that, another woman came running down the alley in fear. But she stopped dead when she saw the three.

She turned and went to run away, but Kilgrave stopped her with a single word.

‘Stop!’ He shouted at her.

She stopped dead.

‘Come here.’ He beckoned her, and without hesitation the woman walked right up to him. Kilgrave grinned and stroked her hair, the woman was trembling in fear and tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t move.

Kilgrave pulled out a small pocket knife and handed it to her. ‘Carve my name into your arm, darling. It’s Kilgrave.’

Loki’s eyes widened slightly, impressed when the woman started doing just that. The pain was evident on her face, but she didn’t stop until his name was permanently on her.

‘Good girl.’ Kilgrave hummed, taking the knife back from her. ‘Now go, get out of my sight.’

The woman then ran away as fast as she could. Kilgrave turned back to Loki, smirking.

‘I can have people do whatever I want.’ Kilgrave said cockily.

‘Impressive… So this girl here, is under your control too?’ Loki asked as he glanced towards her.

‘Not in the same way. She’s a mutant, is immune to my power. But there are other ways to control pretty little things.’ Kilgrave looked at her. ‘Kneel for Loki, pleasure him with your mouth.’

She hesitated, but then Kilgrave reached into his pocket and pulled out a small remote. He pressed the button and suddenly the girl cried out in pain as she was electrocuted by the collar. She spasmed for a moment until she quickly fell down to her knees on front of Loki.

The electric stopped and she didn’t hesitate again to do what Kilgrave said. She unbuckled Loki’s belt and pulled his zipper down, then she reached in and took hold of his cock, pulling him free and stroking him. She leaned in and wrapped her lips around him, slowly sucking him.

Loki let out a moan of pleasure, his eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

Kilgrave watched, pleased. He wasn’t stupid, he could tell Loki was powerful, the fact his powers didn’t work on him was enough of a clue. So instead of trying to anger or make an enemy in him, he decided to win him over. Get on his good side. Perhaps they could help one another out.

Loki reached down and gripped the back of her head, pushing her further down on him. She swallowed around him and did her best not to choke, she knew what would happen if she pulled away or choked too much.

‘Ohhh, yes. She’s wonderful.’ Loki growled, thrusting his hips as he fucked her mouth.

‘She certainly is.’ Kilgrave chuckled and moved in closer, eyeing his girl carefully. ‘Why don’t we go somewhere more comfortable once you’re finished. Then you can really get to know her. And I feel we could perhaps help one another.’

Loki managed to drag his eyes off the girl long enough to look at Kilgrave, he nodded once. Mainly because he wanted to fuck her, he wasn’t fussed about joining forces with anyone. But perhaps his control powers could come in handy.

It wasn’t too long before Loki came, as it had been so long and the girl was doing such a wonderful job, it was one of the most fulfilling orgasms he’d had. Spilling down her throat. But he had too much cum, she couldn’t swallow him all in time and started coughing slightly, some dribbling out down her chin.

That earned her a zap from Kilgrave. She cried out in pain and fell forward slightly against Loki’s thigh, he grabbed her head to steady her. When Kilgrave stopped the shock collar, he reached down and grabbed her upper arm, hauling her up to her feet.

‘You’ll be a good girl and let Loki fuck you, won’t you, pet?’ He growled in her ear, keeping her in tightly against his side.

‘Y… Yes, Master.’ She whispered, eyes down to the ground.

-

Loki found it was a rather good idea going with Kilgrave and the girl. It gave him somewhere safe to lay low for a short while and to have some fun, let off steam.

‘Undress. Show Loki what you’ve got to offer.’ Kilgrave demanded when they went into the bedroom, he sat down on the edge of the bed to watch.

She didn’t hesitate, knowing what would happen if she did. Once her clothes were removed, she put them to the side and kept her hands down at her sides, letting Loki see her.

‘Very nice.’ Loki purred, walking over to her he started pawing at her breasts and brushing his thumbs across her nipples, making her gasp. ‘Very responsive.’ He cooed in delight.

He slid his hand down between her thighs and started touching her, she was slightly wet already. So it didn’t him too long to work her up more. His long fingers slid through her folds and across her clit, making her squeak.

‘I want to see you cum, pet. Let’s see what kind of noises you make.’ He swiftly grabbed her and tossed her onto the bed, climbing over her.

Kilgrave just stayed at the side, watching. Loki wasn’t entirely sure why he was letting another man play with his possession, but in that moment he didn’t care. He wanted inside of her.  

He flipped her over so she was on her stomach. Then he moved between her legs, forcing her apart. Pulling his cock out once more, he lined up with her and wasted no more time before getting his fill of her.

She cried out and grabbed at the sheet beneath her tightly as Loki’s cock slid into her, forcing her body to accommodate his large cock. When he pushed in deep, he slid an arm around her middle and lifted her up more onto her hands and knees before he started rocking into her.

‘That’s it, let the God fuck you like the whore you are.’ Kilgrave sneered from the side, palming at himself through his trousers.

Loki started moving deliberately, enjoying the little whimpers and moans that he pulled from her. He grabbed hold of her hair and tugged her head backwards, growling as he leaned down and nipped at her neck.

‘Fuck, she feels so good.’ Loki grunted, quickening his pace.

She couldn’t stop whining, the way his cock was pistoning into her was almost unbearable. He felt so good, too good. But she did her best to hold off, not wanting to cum. She couldn’t cum…

Loki could tell she was holding back. He thrust harder into her, making sure to grind deep against the spots that he knew would drive her insane. Then when he slid a hand down her front underneath her, between her thighs to rub her clit, she knew it was all over.

‘No!’ She wailed, trying to squirm away from him. But he held her tightly and kept rubbing her clit while he fucked her.

‘You WILL cum for me.’ He demanded gruffly and bit her earlobe.

He hadn’t been sure why she seemed so unwilling to cum. But it all became clear soon enough. He was able to keep chasing her pleasure, fucking and rubbing her so well that she had no other option but to cum all over his cock, squeezing him hard.

That’s when Kilgrave turned on the shock collar again. While she was in the throes of her orgasm, the electricity shot through her, making her body shake even more violently. He could feel the difference on his cock and it made him lose concentration as he thrust into her once more, hard and deep. Then he exploded inside her.

Loki collapsed on top of the girl, only just managing not to crush her. His cock twitched inside her, still lodged deep. She was whimpering softly when Kilgrave turned the collar off.

‘Makes her feel so much better, doesn’t it?’ Kilgrave asked knowingly with a smirk.

Loki managed to roll off her, his cock slipping out from her sopping wet cunt. ‘That is quite incredible.’ He said as he ran his fingers down her spine, making her body jerk slightly, she was over sensitive.

‘Come here.’ Kilgrave patted his thigh.

She managed to pull herself up with shaking arms and crawled to him. He pulled her onto his lap and started petting her hair gently. He looked over at Loki, who was totally blissed out and unable to move as he lay on his side, panting.

‘Do you do that often when she cums?’ He asked after getting his breath back.

‘Every time. She is here for my pleasure, and if her pain adds to that, then she takes it.’ Kilgrave confirmed, giving her bottom a gentle pat, that made her whimper quietly.

After the thorough fucking from Loki, she dozed off to sleep on Kilgrave’s lap while he talked business with Loki. She didn’t care what they were planning, she just wanted to be good and get as less shocks as possible.

She could only hope that one day she would get her chance to escape Kilgrave for good. And not run into a crazed horny God next time.

[soulguardianazeralith]

Guess who found @hermitcraftheadcanons ‘s Scattered Au? This bish. Admittedly, it’s a lot to catch up on but so far I’ve kiiiinda got a good idea of it?

Aaaanyways, I saw somefin that caught my eye and it was Grian’s situation. Stuck in the cold, dying to the cold over and over. Getting saved by Doc. It seemed sad but interesting!

But, at least to me, I feel like it needed a small bit of tension. So here I am! Gonna give out a dumb idea I had! I will note, this Grian isn’t a fox mix or has feathery wings. I kiiinda threw in my own version into the mix- you know what, you’ll see what I mean.

TW/CW: Mentions of death, implied animal death, mentions/visual altered body parts. (I’ll probably add more later if asked to add it)

Hope y’all enjoy. Also I apologize if it ends up being short. Writing isn’t my strong suit. :\

———

The compact snow was deceptively deep, nearly dropping Doc to his knees with each step forwards. Many times he almost even rolled backwards, barely avoiding a long and steep drop to his death. It was a miracle he could even climb this far, or that there was more to still climb. His vision faded for a moment before he jerked back upright, shaking the snow off his back. He couldn’t risk any breaks or to slow down, ‘less he wants to become a Docsicle.

That was in fact, a terrible joke for a terrible moment and even he was aware of it. But the small chuckle meant his lungs were still getting are and he hadn’t gone fully numb yet.

He pulled himself up to the edge of the hill, looking around with shielded eyes. Everything was barren and the only thing even at the peak was a crown of rocky walls encircling a large and flat field of snow. You’d think that this would mean finding Grian would be easy, but with the terrible fog and sharp waves of snow he could barely even see the shadows of said rock walls.

He skirted around the outside of the field, marking each slope down the peak and fully stopping one side due to a frozen over carcass. How anything got to even spawn up here was a mystery, but considering his friend was supposedly in the area it wasn’t unlikely. Still, a llama this far up? It would take an extremely dumb creature to search for food up here. From the corner of his eye, he notices a bit of a shine under the mix of frost and white fur. Slowly, he brushed them back, color fading from his face at the sight.

Well, at least he knew it was a trader llama. What he didn’t really expect were the jagged claw marks buried into the spinal area of the poor thing. Whatever it was, it hadn’t finished the kill properly, as the carcass was still fresh despite the ice and the creature itself only had a bitemark by the base of its neck.

Wait.

Oh no.

He ran toward the center of the field, abandoning the llama. He could faintly see a blood trail leading to a shadowy silhouette, bunched up and moving slightly. Despite how cold his face was, he could smell the fresh scent of a kill in that direction. As he neared, he could recognize a dull but still bright red sweater, tattered in the back. Carefully, he slowed down and approached the person he’d been searching for, his words caught in his throat. He almost doubted himself as he spoke, watching the figure turn to him and hiss at him.

Grian’s body twitched as he positioned himself between Doc and the dead trader, crushing their ribs in the process. It was very clear that he couldn’t actually see Doc with the eyes on his face, but instead had to move his wings at angles to see. The purple eyes sharpened as they locked on the newcomer, making Grian peel off from the kill he’d been feeding on.

Doc didn’t hesitate to run as Grian launched himself at where he’d been standing, a spray of spit and blood splashing the ground around him. He didn’t need to glance back to tell he was being pursued, the loud snarling and crushing of snow behind him was a pretty good sign.

Although it was a bad thought, Doc was kind of glad Grian didn’t spawn somewhere like the end or had an elytra. If his wings had the extra power, he was sure that he’d have already been caught and torn to shreads.

He reached the side of the peak and slipped, sliding down a few yards before rolling out of the way as Grian again threw himself at the spot Doc was last at. When missing his mark, the hermit let out a roar that threatened to send the snow crashing down. The action gave Doc an idea.

One that he might regret later.

“Hey! Over here!”

Grian turned his head sharply to the noise, baring his teeth. He blindly rushed after the target, getting narrowly close to digging his claws into the mad man’s leg as a result for his taunting.

Okay. Maybe don’t do that.

Doc kept his quick pace down the mountain, his adrenaline being the main thing stopping him from falling over and succumbing to the snow. He had to make it to the bottom, or at least to the half way point. On his way up, he’d passed a ravine. If he could make it there, he could maybe live to see another day and risk coming back for Grian when more prepared.

He kept zig zagging through his old footsteps, reaching the drop faster than expected. Quickly, he pulled out a rope and tied it around one of his arms. It was definitely going to hurt, but that would be a problem for future him. He took a few shaky steps back, glanced at Grian rapidly approaching, then sprinted over the ledge, throwing the rope out at a few rocks on the other side.

He screamed in pain as the rope secured in place, his arm dislocating in the process but otherwise he was safe. He spun around as he heard Grian screech, the creature lunging out at him. He succeeded in hooking his claws into his leg, burning the flesh with the terrible coldness from said claws. Doc almost lost his hold on the rope but managed to kick Grian off before he could be taken down with him.

He winced as Grian screamed, landing at the bottom with a loud thud. He was concerned until he saw the other slowly get back up, seemingly unharmed despite the visible broken twist in one of his wings. The two made eye contact for a while before Doc muttered an apology.

Then he screamed as loud as he could.

He forced himself out of the ravine as fast as he could, watching the vibrations of his echo stir the already loose snow from the hill. Almost beautifully, all of it came crashing down in an avalanche, rolling into the ravine and slowly filling it. He didn’t stay to watch it finish, limping quickly back down the mountain. He had to get to Ren. He’d probably get a yelling about the chat, but they could return later.

As soon as he was gone and the avalanche had settled, a bit of snow shifted. A bloodied hand tore out of the top, followed by the rest of the hermit. Grian wheezed and hissed quietly as he adjusted to the different pressure of this lower elevation. Shifting his still working wing, he surveyed the area to look for his quarry.

There. A lone greenish figure moving down the snow. He could also spot a faint trail of smoke dancing up from behind a hill.

The green one can wait.

He was curious about the smoke, and he wondered what, or who, was the cause of it.

Besides.... they might be a better meal to feast on before he finished off the green one.

[hendrickfw]

A ray of hope/LU AU

The end was near. An enormous asteroid, a hundred kilometers wide, was about to impact Earth. The last time it happened was about seven hundred years ago, during the golden years of heroism. A young white duck astronomer wearing a red jacket watched through his telescope, noting the object getting closer to Earth.

-Jet? Please turn off the light and get to sleep.

Jet´s brother, Turbo, was sleeping in a blue pajama. He stood up and walked to his brother.

-I can´t. I´m a witness of a cosmological event never seen before!

-Wait. Space, you mean?

Turbo loved space. He pushed his brother apart and started watching through the telescope. His eyes opened wide at the incredible sight of the rock.

-Guys, someone is trying to sleep here- said Rebel, putting his pillow over his head.

Jet, Turbo, and Rebel were triplets, all brothers of the large Duck family. They lived in Acmetropolis in their uncle´s Nash Duck house. Their mother traveled through all the galaxy, so she rarely was with them. The trio also passed their time with their uncle Ebenezer McDuck.

Rebel went with them after his complaints were unheard. He used some green pajamas. He wasn´t so happy about being out of bed.

-Wow, that´s so cool! You never told me a pink lady was flying over there!- exclaimed Turbo, making Jet curious.

-Pink lady? What are you talking about?

Jet pushed his brother and started watching through the telescope, impressed by the phenomenon before his eyes. A strange pink-dressed woman flying near the asteroid fired some kind of ray to it. The meteor was destroyed, although some debris continued its trajectory to Acmetropolis.

-That´s impossible! That is some abnormal event! How is a woman able to fly? What did she fire? Why...?

-Kids. What are you doing?

Another white duck opened the door. He was Nash, the uncle of the ducklings. He seemed mad after seeing his nephews out of bed late at night.

-Nothing, Uncle Nash- responded the three, hiding the telescope behind them.

-You should be sleeping. Remember that tomorrow we´ll visit your uncle Ebenezer.

-Ok, Uncle Nash- the trio responded again in unison.

The ducklings returned to bed, ready for the next day. Although, the strange event they have just seen got them intrigued.

While they were sleeping, some meteor debris fell to the city with some cosmic energy. Fortunately, it wouldn´t affect any individual. Right?

Acmetropolis University

It was a summer day in the city. The people could feel the heat of the day. There was, at least, one person, or animal, without that kind of problem. He was Tech E. Coyote, a Ph.D. student of the Technology Department of the biggest and most important university in the city.

Tech, as his ancient name suggests, was a coyote with brown fur. His green eyes, concentrated on his latest invention, still showed a wild persona, but also wisdom. He was wearing a lab coat. Despite someone's sound entering into the lab, his concentration didn't leave the device in front of him. Smith Pierce, Tech's professor, entered the lab. The coyote did not hear his presence until he felt someone touch the chair where he was sitting.

“You should rest. We're going to have a meal with the rest of the class at Pizza Fest. You coming?”

“I don't think so, sir. If I want to investigate the astrological phenomenon of the time, I must finish the intercosmic suit.”

Of course, the genius knew about the asteroid in the direction of the planet and wanted to investigate it closely. Very close. Smith, as much as he wanted to convince Tech to get out, knew he wouldn't make it. The professor sighed and walked out.

“If you change your mind, we will be waiting for you. Warner Street corner with Mouse.”

Tech nodded from afar, still adjusting the suit's protection systems. There wasn't much time, as the asteroid would arrive in a few days.

“You know? If you listened to me, I'd introduce you to my friend the roadrunner. Both could complement each other very well in the lab” asked a female voice. Tech had to start paying more attention to his surroundings while he was working.

“The delivery guy? You know I don't trust working with anyone since Casey, Lexi.”

After Smith's departure came Lexi Bunny, a tan fur bunny. She didn't study anything related to science. Instead, she was an athlete. She had been a cheerleader in high school and was now looking to pursue basketball. Despite this, she had taken some physics and engineering courses (specially to learn more about those subjects than his brother) under Tech's mentoring. Since then, they have become good friends, although Tech has had confidence issues.

And that's why Lexi wants to include him in ger close group of friends. In addition to the roadrunner whose name went through Rev, there was his older brother Ace. Rev also claimed to have two friends who would introduce them today. Just the ideal situation to take Tech.

“Today Rev will introduce me and my brother some friends. You should come, it'll be fun.”

“I can't. I have to finish this before I miss the opportunity.”

“Then do it as a favor. Remember the time you...?”

When Lexi pursued an objective, she usually made it. That's what he admired her. Well, he had to admit that, from the few times they'd come out, he'd had more fun than usual. Maybe he'd do the same this time, even though there'd be more people outside of her brother and herself.

“All right, all right. I 'm going. Just help me put some things in store” the most he tried to hide his smile, he just couldn't. He really enjoyed the company of the bunny.

As they both began to pack the objects Tech used, Tech recalled a recent comment from the bunny. That would serve to kill the silence in which they were involved.

“And... are you sure you want to do it?”

“I don't know. It's a big step and, so far, Ace hasn't taken it well.”

“We can postpone it so you can think about it better, discuss it with him and, well, with me. We haven't decided everything.”

“Doesn't it bother you? It's a decision that's yours too.”

“Not at all. I'd rather you be comfortable, specially.”

Lexi felt unsure of the action to take, but at least she was happy to have Tech's support. It was comforting to some extent.

Once they both finished storing everything, they left the University and walked to the city subway, from where they took transportation to downtown. Tech felt somewhat uncomfortable about being in such unhygienic, crowded environments, but at least having Lexi by his side giving him conversation took those thoughts out of his head. Soon they arrived and took to the streets of the metropolis. A short time passed, and they entered the Pizzarriba establishment.

Pizzarriba was a pizza restaurant created in the 21st century, miraculously afloat after losing almost all its establishments to Pizza Fest. Luckily, the original restaurant was still standing. It continued to maintain the same style as in its founding years, specially to attract customers.

Lexi, followed by Tech, walked through the door. It was Tech's first time on the establishment. Lexi quickly ran to one of the tables. Tech recognized her brother, Ace, whose grey fur was unmistakable for the coyote. He wore a jacket and jeans, his typical outfit after finishing his auditions. He was the only one on site, probably saving space for the group. The table was big. How many friends would the roadrunner bring?

- What's up, Doc? Ace asked Tech after hugging and greeting her sister.

-Hi, Ace.

Ace gave room for both of them to sit down. Lexi sat next to him and Tech was left next to her. Before they could start chatting, the three of them heard the door of the restaurant open with an unusual sound of someone talking.

“... a-robot-commissioned-by-my-dad-so-I-had-to-look-for-a-replacement-and-you-know-how-difficult-it-is-to-find-a-modulator-at-the-middle-of-desert-so-I-improvised-putting-together-several-remnants-of-old-inventions-with-something-of-cheese--which-reminds-me-have-you-proven-this-pizza-is-delicious-and-look-there-are-my-friends-hello-Ace-Lexi-and-you-should-be-Tech-is-a-pleasure-Lexi-told-me-a lot-about-you-and-your-inventions-sound-awesome...”

Tech started to feel dizzy. He didn't know what it could be, but it started a little after the roadrunner arrived. By focusing on his problem, he failed to hear the last words of him, at least until Lexi interrupted him.

“Hello Rev. Tech, he is the friend I have told you about.”

Tech tried to return to his posture and reached out to say hello. He didn't expect a loud, quick handshake from the roadrunner. He heard that he continued to speak with the same speed and joviality, which caused the coyote more dizziness. It was nothing to his liking. Rev was the typical roadrunner one could find in the desert, with blue plumage on the body and violet on the tail. He was wearing a sports suit because he probably was used to run a lot. After the introduction, Rev returned with his friends and introduced them.

“He-is-Slam-the-Tasmanian-demon-and-he-is-a-professional-fighter-and-very-good-at-it-I must-admit...”

Slam was a little bigger than the average Tasmanian demon. He was huge in Lexi's opinion, but behind his smile she saw the personality of someone friendly rather than intimidating. They hoped it would, even though Lexi didn't hesitate. Tech failed to understand Slam's growls, but by his raised hand he suspected it was a greeting.

“... and-he-is-Duck-and-between-him-my-brother-Rip-and-I-we-are-best-friends-practically-brothers-or-what-do-you-say?”

The black duck was crossing his arms, without saying a word. Everyone noticed that he looked coldly at Ace, who looked back at him the same way.

“Rev, I didn't know you knew the duck.”

“Umm-yes-why-do-you-know each other?”

"Unfortunately," Duck replied.

"And this got awkward," Tech said louder than he wanted. Slam made sounds agreeing.

The three newcomers sat in front of those who were already there. The large size Slam occupied in the chair explained the size of the reserved table. Lexi was the first to break the tension when she saw Duck's shirt.

“Where did you get that? I've been looking for that shirt for centuries!”

Duck watched his shirt. He changed his expression of discomfort to a smirk. He looked at the bunny pointing at his shirt.

“This shirt? Please, the biggest fans of Duck Dodgers are the only ones who can carry them.”

"I-didn't-know-that-you-were-fan-of-Duck-Dogers-too-Lexi-I-mean-it-is-fantastic-other-thing-that-we-have-in-common.”

“Well, lady, it is your lucky day. I´m the Duck Dodgers fan club leader so I may allow you to join us. Do you know where we are?”

“Please give me something easy. Here was Dodgers' first fight in 2021 during the concert of a famous band of the time.”

“2021? Wasn't he a hero in 2500?” Ace asked, intrigued or her sisters´ knowledge of the character. He knew of her love for the hero, but not how much she had dived into his history.

“Actually, no. It's a common mistake. Duck Dodgers debuted at this restaurant in the 21st century but is best known for his heroics in the 25th century. Besides, it wasn't at a concert by a famous band of the time. The Caballeros were not popular when they played in the incident" corrected Tech. Everyone looked at him and Tech felt uncomfortable. “What? You can't be the only ones interested in superheroes.”

“Told you” bragged Lexi to her brother with a big smirk.

"Sure, I already knew that." Duck bragged too, though everyone distrusted his sincerity.

“Wouldn’t-it-be-amazing-to-have-superpowers-or-what-do-you-think-guys?” Rev asked with his speaking speed. “I-mean-I-already-run-fast-but-I-wouldn´t-be-annoyed-if-I-was-faster-or-which-powers-would-you-guys-like-to-have?”

"Definitely jump higher, be able to reach places I couldn´t." Lexi replied, already knowing the answer.

“Besides the intellect, which I already possess, probably some form of technokinesis. It would be helpful to me when working.” Tech replied, showing off and being honest at the same time.

Slam made incomprehensible sounds to others again, but Rev interpreted them as the ability to eat more.

“I don't want superpowers. With my agility I could kick any thief” said Ace confidently.

“Finally, you share my opinion, Ace. I wouldn't need either. Duck Dodgers never needed. I just need my natural duck strength.” Duck added.

“Where was that strength when you needed my help moving a ladder in the supermarket, Duck?” The others couldn't help but laugh a little bit about the anecdote.

“The ones with wheels to move around, Ace?”

“Nice deduction, Tech.”

"You are despicable..."

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

The afternoon passed quickly and was fun, even for Tech or Duck, who were the most apathic. After eating the pizza and getting to know each other a little better, everyone returned to their homes. Everyone had their own responsibilities to attend.

Rev was the first to get home thanks to his speed, despite being the one who lived the farther away. The roadrunner arrived at his parents' house. Ralph, his father, greeted him immediately, diverting the little attention paid to his son Rip. He asked his favorite son to help him build his new Robo-Amigo as Rip was too "inexperienced" in the robotics area. Without hesitation the roadrunner arrived to the garage, where he began to work.

Slam, after lunch, arrived at the arena where he had a contract to fight. At the moment his fights were against unexperienced players, as his sponsor, Pierre Le Pew, still kept him to fight the great cup champion for later. The demon didn't want to serve just cheap entertainment because he wanted to have fun with the fights, besides being able to have an extra income if it wasn't too much, because the economy wasn't going well lately for him.

Duck came to his apartment, which was extremely messy, with dirty laundry all over the place. It looked like a homeless man lived there. And, honestly, it was near the truth. Despite the ducks´ confident and arrogant behavior, Duck was nothing but a drag on society. Not even that house was his: it was an unpaid hotel room for four months. Duck's life was miserable, and he knew it very well. Only his job of picking up trash from a public pool said it all. Duck threw himself in his bed and looked at a photograph of his adoptive parents, dead at that point. Duck missed them and would do anything to bring them back. It was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Tech returned to college, to the same lab where he spent the rest of the week working. He was already late and had to continue with his armor. He had Lexi's insecurity in mind. The coyote hoped she could solve the problem. But the voice of the roadrunner didn't go out of his mind either. In truth, listening to him speak so much, with that force and speed caused him a terrible headache. He didn't dislike him, on the contrary, they were almost “birds of a feather”, but that voice detail was still there.

Lexi and Ace returned to their apartment. It was humble, the best they could get. With Lexi's scholarship and Ace's salary as a stunt, it was the best they could rent. It was cozy, but Lexi wanted to change. Between the two brothers several discussions had been emerging and Lexi thought the best was to take some time apart. Luckily, she had found support in a coyote, who was willing to share the same roof with her. It was a possible way out.

Ace, meanwhile, was saddened by the constant conflicts with his sister. He understood that she needed her space and was no longer a child, but he was the older brother and their parents had commissioned him to protect her. Was he wrong to want to do his job?

But, despite each other's problems, the same event brought them together. It wasn't their meeting at Pizzarriba. At about 6:30, they all fainted without any apparent explanation. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed and they were taken to the hospital.

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

Some general stuff. This is my AU fanfiction of Loonatics Unleashed where the heroes have some solo adventures before they form the team. This is an awfully done introduction. I don´t really trust my English writing abilities, so please tell me if you find any grammatical mistake. If any hero wants to help me with that part I will not be able of thank you enough.

I finally decided to make it a shared universe with my other fanfiction: Los Tres Caballeros viajan de nuevo. I´m not sure if I´ll use any characters referencing that story because I want to focus on the show cast. For now I just want to put the important pieces on place before starting everything.

And feel free to comment. I´ll try to upload more but, I´m finishing this semester and the exams and essays will take my time. Anyway, for those shippers, I may have some Tech/Lexi at the start but I´ll transition it to Tech/Rev and Danger/Lexi.

I hope you like it and happy weekend to everyone.

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 1 part 1

I’m not quite sure how to begin.

I’m not typically one for journaling but it would appear to be part of the gig, as it were. I found this book—the one I’m writing in, heavy and musty and leather-bound—sitting on the table when I arrived, open to a blank page. There are at least a thousand pages filled before it, and no matter how many blank pages I flip past this one I can’t reach the back cover without closing the book entirely.

Mòrag told me things that present themselves for investigation here tend to be worth exploring, and if my gut tells me what’s right not to stray from its guidance. But I’m getting ahead of myself—you don’t even know who I am.

My name is Fionn Gill, and I’m a witch. I know, I know, but I don’t get into all that “warlock” “wizard” shit. It’s just a way to separate and belittle the same practice based solely on the gender of the practitioner, in my opinion. My specialty lies in potion-making, though I’m not very experienced. I’ve really only just finished my training—I’m from Huntsmanland and they’re not nearly as magically-inclined there as they are in High Rannoc. This is the first part of the country I’ve visited other than my tutor’s homestead and I must say, it hasn’t made the most stellar impression.

My tutor Edith received a letter stating that services would be required in the town of Greenmoor, and since the letter didn’t specify her services, she sent me to take care of it. I don’t know if she expected it to be an indefinite position, but here we are.

I didn’t bring a lot with me—just enough for the journey. It was about all I could carry walking. I arrived in Greenmoor with just about the clothes on my back, hoping they had an apothecary of their own so I could get this over with.

I’ve never really been one for small towns, and nor do they have much love for me. I’ve always thought I was meant for adventure—movement, action, peril, all of it. Small town life just feels so… stagnant. Nothing changes, no one grows or changes or has anything interesting to talk about. It’s enough to drive you mad.

Not to mention the natural suspicion of outsiders. I could see it on Mòrag McKinney’s face, even as she greeted me at the edge of town in her official capacity as mayor. Her hair was done up in a huge bun of thick braids on top of her head—a hairstyle with a formality at odds with her armored clothing.

She seemed surprised when I told her I was the witch. That’s not uncommon—like most intellectual and healing work, witchcraft is traditionally the domain of women. Even in the relatively forward-thinking country of High Rannoc, I tend to get some variation on ‘oh, how progressive!’ when I tell people my vocation. Often if you get a man doing witchcraft, his neighbors will whisper certain things about him. My neighbors back home were whispering those things about me anyway, so that wasn’t much of a hurdle to me.

Mòrag (she insisted I call her by her first name once we’d been properly introduced) gave me a brief tour of Greenmoor. It is, to put it lightly, tiny. I’d estimate a population around fifty. Near everyone has a job that serves an internal function to the community, with maybe the exception of the innkeeper. There are blacksmiths, miners, a carpenter, a tanner… she didn’t indicate any artists or poets or anything of that sort to me, which was disheartening. Even when I thought I would only be here briefly, I was hoping to enjoy the finer things the locals had to offer. The closest this town comes is a library, but I sorely doubt they have any kind of collection of works by local authors.

Mòrag pointed out all the magical resources in town, and some of them impressed me—the lunar tower and ritual circle in particular looked useful. She did not show me any apothecary, and following her aforementioned advice, I took that to mean there wasn’t one. Can’t wait to go out and experience the joys of foraging in the wilderness myself.

Once we’d gone through the entire village, she showed me to the cottage where I’ll be staying. It’s a little ways away from the town proper, down a walking path through some trees. It’s little more than a one-room thing, with only the washroom closed off from the rest of the space. The walls and door are made of dark wood, and the outside still has bark attached in many places. The roof is sloped and overgrown with moss and ivy. Inside the main room there is a bed, a large set of shelves which ought to have reagents and potion-making materials on them but are mostly bare, and a table on which this book sits. The washroom has a tub and a latrine—no plumbing to be found. Out back sits the remains of a garden, only one plot of which looks salvageable. A ways back into the trees there’s a creek. Most of the rest of the clearing is in the early stages of becoming overgrown, with trees and bushes and flowers starting to stretch themselves out and remembering how to be wild.

Mòrag told me the witch who was here before me was a bit of a recluse. No one in town knew very much about her, and she seemed to prefer it that way. They came to her for her healing potions and never made it past small talk and kept inviting her to parties and festivals even though she never attended. And then one day nearly everyone in town woke up with a gift from her—the farmers received her animals, the barkeep her ferments, the innkeeper and bakers her crops. As the townspeople tallied their gifts they realized it amounted to nearly everything she owned. They went together to her cottage to ask her why she’d given it all away, and found her cottage—this cottage—empty. The ensuing search turned up no body, no note, not a shred of evidence to speak of. It was as if she’d disappeared into thin air. As the townsfolk talked and wondered what had happened, they quickly realized no one knew her well enough to provide any real insight. They couldn’t even come to a consensus on what her name was.

They had quickly moved on to discussing the more pressing issue: the town was lacking a healer. The general store owner had worked with my tutor Edith in years prior (Edith loved to tell stories of the time she spent pursuing the culinary arts). Thus, the letter and thus, my presence.

Mòrag told me she hoped I might be more engaged in the community than my predecessor. I decided to refrain from telling her not to get her hopes up, and instead expressed my confusion: I’d thought this was a single gig, that I was to heal someone of their illness and then leave.

She disabused me of that notion with rather more intensity than I think was warranted.

She told me that unless my predecessor reappeared, I was all they had. She said Edith had spoken highly of my abilities in her return letter (I doubted that—Edith never spoke highly of anyone). She told me I would receive a base pay of 20 silver per cure to start, and that if I did the townsfolk well and they grew to like me, they’d most certainly be willing to pay more. She told me that the folks of Greenmoor were good people, even if they were a bit disaster-prone and some of them could make good use of a little more common sense.

And, well, how do you say no to that?

When I asked where I would be getting my materials, she told me the areas surrounding Greenmoor were rich in natural resources. So it will be as I feared. I’m glad I brought my off-road boots.

Mòrag left me to get settled in and I immediately took stock. There are no reagents on the shelves (of course not! Why would there be?), but I did find a cauldron, mortar and pestle, and a copper alembic (which is used for distilling)—so at least once I have the reagents I’ll be able to do some basic cooking with them. I also found a small leather-bound book with vague descriptions of some of the areas surrounding the village. I should be able to cross-reference it with my notes on the environments where useful reagents can be found to make searching for materials a bit less painful.

I pulled a matted tangle of weeds out of the garden plot, but it looks like whatever was planted underneath already shriveled away to nothing. Well, at least the land’s clear now.

One thing that I knew I’d need if I was going to be able to handle this was a familiar. I’ve never been one for conjuration but in this case it’s an unfortunate necessity. I was supposed to be getting one within the next few weeks at Edith’s anyway, and I already knew the process. You’re supposed to have a more experienced witch observe your first time, but that’s just academic formality—there’s nothing actually dangerous about the process.

I found what looks to be a quarter cran basket (was my predecessor into fishing…?) under the bed, and set out around the property collecting small rocks and flowers and toadstools that had the right kinds of vibration. They were for use in the ritual, but also collecting them was a good start to cleaning the property up. Because if I’m going to be living here, it cannot stay looking like this.

I took the basket into the woods near the creek and laid its contents out in a circle as wide as I was tall. Before I placed each one down, I held it for a moment and asked it to help me with my task. Then, I sat in the center of my circle and closed my eyes and tried to meditate. Clearing my head has never been my strong suit, but I’m usually able to fudge the process enough to do what needs doing. This time took a bit longer than usual but eventually I managed. I felt my energy (spirit, consciousness, whatever) radiating out from me, pink and orange and bright and loud, first to the edges of the circle and then beyond. All of it asked a single question and listened for the answer.

The response came from much closer than anticipated, when I felt something small hop onto my knee.

I opened my eyes and looked down to see a frog staring back at me, blinking lazily and making small, guttural noises. Her back was green and rough and slimy. One of her eyes was milky, pointing vaguely off to the left, while the other gazed straight at me. The tips of her toes (three on each foot) edged closer to brown than the rest of her body.

Having clearly presented herself, she now asked if my gut said we would be good partners.

I’ve named her Ailean.

And now here I am, writing all of this down. I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage this every day. Whoever reads this may have to settle for a few times a week. With that said, I do think I’d like to go back and read what my predecessor wrote. Maybe it’ll give a clue as to where she’s gone, and help me escape this position sooner. She seems to have been quite the prolific writer—getting through her logs could take months, especially if the townsfolk keep me particularly busy with their various woes. I’ll have to start reading sooner rather than later.

Speak of the devil, there’s a knock on my door. It hasn’t even been a full day and I might already have my first customer. I’ll finish this later.

⇦●〇●⇨

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 6: End of the Rope

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

Claire was supposed to be looking at charts on the computer in front of her, and she would, of course, right after she finished checking her phone for any messages from Mrs. Lickett.

“Beauchamp!”

Fuck.

“That’s the third time I’ve caught you on your phone. You trying to get fired on your first day?” 

Her supervisor, Doctor Moore, was the most Nurse Ratched type Claire had ever seen in real life: tyrannical and unforgiving. The only difference was the grating nasality of her thick Long Island accent. Claire opened her mouth to defend herself, for the third time, but Ratched cut her off.

“Plenty of other doctors have kids at home, Doctor Beauchamp. Do you see any of the rest of them with their heads buried in their phones like teenagers?”

Claire could feel the tips of her ears growing hot with rage, but she swallowed it down and answered as levelly as possible: “No, Doctor Moore.”

“Get going. Your team is waiting for you.”

Claire exhaled heavily as soon as the tight-faced woman bustled out of the room, clenching her teeth to avoid outwardly groaning.

“The Ratched already on your nerves?”

Claire practically jumped out of her skin. She turned in the swiveling chair to see a kind-faced black man about her age, perhaps a bit older, smiling at her. He was sitting at a computer as well, craning his neck around to look at her. His eyes were dark, but soft.

“Did you read my bloody mind?” Claire stammered, still slightly alarmed.

He gave a short, barking laugh. “Seems I did. Everyone calls her that. Not to her face, mind you.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Claire’s eyes widened at the thought of doing so.

“I’m Joe, Joe Abernathy.” He stood and crossed the room to shake her hand.

“Claire Beauchamp,” Claire returned, taking his hand.

He chuckled as he returned his hand to his side.

“What?” Claire said, face scrunching in suspicion.

“Just thinking about you asking if I read your bloody mind,” he said, flashing his teeth in a wide grin. “I heard you were English, but to hear it is another thing.”

Claire rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress her own smile as she turned back to the computer to complete her given task.

“Kids at home, huh?” His tone was sympathetic, having heard Doctor Moore’s reaming out of Claire.

“Just one,” Claire said. “I’m quite aware there are other parents here,” she continued hotly, though her anger was not directed at the man standing before her. “But I’d like to know how many of them are single parents of a daughter with special needs.”

Joe nodded in quiet understanding. “That must be tough, leaving her all day.”

Claire nodded, fighting the urge to check her phone again. “I’ve never left her alone with a babysitter this long. When I was in school I was still married, so she wasn’t ever alone for too long even though her father was a professor. After the move and the new schedules…I’m just worried.” All the while, Claire kept her eyes on the screen, scanning over charts and making mental notes. “The woman’s a marvel; I wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t. I just can’t help it. She’s nonverbal, my daughter. Autism.”

“Ah.” Joe nodded. “Gotcha.”

“So I just keep waiting for a call that she’s having a meltdown and that even the all-knowing, licensed professional can’t calm her down because she can’t tell her what’s wrong.” Claire shook her head, sighing. “It’s silly, I know.”

“Nah, not at all.” Joe shrugged, keeping his tone casual, but his eyes still shone with sympathy.

“Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload my whole life story on you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I get it. I’ve never personally known anyone with autism, but you see it come in and out of the hospital often enough. It’s scary as hell when there’s something wrong and they can’t tell you, even the verbal ones sometimes.”

“Right.”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry more,” he said quickly. “I’m sure everything is just fine. All I’m saying is I get why you’re worried. And Ratched sure as hell doesn’t. I’d like to tell her to kiss my ass.”

Claire chuckled through her nose, taking note of one more thing on the computer before turning to smile up at him.

“Thanks, Doctor Abernathy.”

“Please, none of that in private.” He waved her off. “Just Joe when there are no patients.”

“Alright, then.” Claire logged off the computer and gathered her things. “Thanks, Joe.”

“No problem. Good luck out there, Lady Jane.”

She paused in the doorway. “What was that?”

He grinned. “One of the other residents called you that. Said your accent sounds like you just had tea with the queen.” He held up his hands, pantomiming holding a teacup and saucer, sticking his pinky out.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” Claire laughed, rolling her eyes as she wrenched the door open.

“Toodle-pip, my lady!” She heard him call behind her.

Christ, was she doomed to have nicknames thrown at her reminding her of her Englishness for all eternity?

Her heart warmed at the thought of that soft Scottish burr saying Sassenach, and more laughter bubbled in her chest at the thought of her newest title.

She supposed she didn’t mind.

——

Claire was dead on her feet by the time eight o’clock rolled around. She briefly glanced back at the hospital in her rear-view mirror as she pulled away, and despite how her head and feet throbbed, she was thrilled at the prospect of every day being like this one.

When she’d done her research on specialities back in the days before med school, she’d read of the unpredictability of Emergency Medicine, of never knowing what kinds of emergencies would burst through the doors at any given moment. The prospect had thrilled her then, and experiencing it first-hand now was even more thrilling. Today alone, she’d saved a man’s finger after a cooking knife incident, put a shoulder back in place, stopped a head wound from bleeding long enough to see the patient into a successful surgery, and saved a pregnant woman and the baby after trauma-induced labor from a car accident.

It was quite a heady feeling.

Despite the thrill, however, there was nothing Claire craved more than the sight of her little girl’s face, the sound of her happy humming to see that Mummy was home.

The whole day had gone by without a hitch, unless Mrs. Lickett was hiding something from her. The only updates she’d gotten were positive ones, prompted by Claire’s frantic “is everything ok??” texts.

Claire had washed up and changed out of her scrubs at the hospital so that she could spend whatever little time was left before Faith’s bedtime with her on the couch, and then she could fully shower and decompress once Faith was asleep.

Claire turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, but before she could take a single step into the living room, a little body was plastered against her legs, wrapping itself tightly around her.

“Hello, baby!” Claire cried out joyously as a buzz of humming filled her ears. “Oh, Mummy missed you so much!” She pried her daughter off her legs and scooped her into her arms, dropping her bag on the porch. Claire held her close, kissing her cheek.

Faith nuzzled her face into Claire’s, rubbing her mother’s cheeks as their foreheads rested together.

“Hello love,” Claire whispered, rocking her gently in the doorway. “I missed you, too, baby. Yes, hello.”

Claire gradually moved them into the apartment, kicking her bag inside and nudging the door shut with her knee.

“Hello, Mrs. Lickett,” Claire said, struggling to meet her eye around Faith’s pawing of her face.

The older woman was smiling warmly. “Hello, Miss Beauchamp.”

“Everything was alright today, then?”

“Sure was,” Mrs. Lickett said. “Faith was a very good girl, right Faith?”

“Is that right, lovie? Were you a good girl for Mrs. Lickett?” Claire shifted her onto one hip and bounced her, eliciting a few giggles. A glance at the telly told her that Finding Nemo was nearing its end; Mrs. Lickett had paused it upon Claire’s arrival.

“How was the first day at the hospital?” Mrs. Lickett said, gathering her things.

“It was…a lot. But good, very good.” Claire crashed on the couch with Faith, trying to settle her and failing. Faith very firmly insisted on remaining in Claire’s lap. “I did miss her very much, though. It’s been a while since I’ve been away from her for so long.” She wrapped her arms around her and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head.

“I understand. I could tell she missed you, too, but I kept her pretty busy.”

“I appreciate that.”

“We started some basic signs today,” Mrs. Lickett beamed. “Might be a while before it registers, but at least she knows now. The more you start using them around her, the better.”

“Right.” Claire nodded. “I’ve been watching those videos you sent me every night.”

“That’s good.”

Faith made a rather indignant noise, pointing toward the telly.

“Somebody wants to get back to her movie,” Mrs. Lickett said.

“Right.” Claire forced a smile. She wanted to stop her from leaving, to sit down at the table and spend the entire night talking about every minute of the entire day, every little accomplishment, everything Faith was learning. But she supposed if she wanted that much involvement, she’d be home with them herself instead of pursuing a career as a full-time physician.

Jesus, Beauchamp. You sound like Frank.

Shuddering at the thought, Claire adjusted Faith so she could watch Mrs. Lickett go. “I’d see you out, but I’m a bit pinned down at the moment.” She gestured with her head to Faith, sitting in her lap and locking her grip on Claire’s arms around her.

“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Say goodnight, Faith,” Claire said, releasing an arm so she could wave to the woman. Faith mimicked her, waving emphatically as Mrs. Lickett shut the door behind her. The second she was gone, Faith groaned again at the telly, and Claire smiled.

“Alright, be patient.” Claire reached for the remote on the coffee table. “I’m quite eager to see if Nemo escapes to the ocean, as well.”

Claire, of course, had the movie memorized, along with the rest of the DVDs in their vast collection. Perhaps it was Faith rubbing off on her, but she didn’t think she’d ever tire of watching them over and over again, especially not if it meant she would always get to spend this time cradling her little girl.

When the movie ended about fifteen minutes later, Faith slipped out of Claire’s lap and waited expectantly by the DVD player. Normally, Faith liked to listen to the music during the ending credits, so Claire didn’t make any moves to take the disc out yet. Only when Faith grunted and started tugging on Claire’s hand did she get the message.

“No music tonight, darling?” she said, puzzled, as she removed the disc and handed the box to Faith to file away. She was buzzing with excitement. Something was up, and Claire was none the wiser. The very second the DVD was away, Faith bolted into her bedroom, leaving Claire bewildered. She’d only just started to get up when Faith returned, holding a pile of colorful paper in her hands.

“What’s this, now?” Claire’s face lit up at the sight of Faith’s toothy grin, holding up the construction paper. Claire could see they were cut into the shape of little fish, and they were plastered with glitter, pompoms, google-eyes, and marker.

“Did you make these, Faith? Did you make these little fishies?” Faith hummed loudly and jumped up and down. “Oh, they’re marvelous, darling! You’re quite the little artist!”

Claire perused every single colorful fish, and she made a note to thank Mrs. Lickett. Arts and crafts were something Claire had never been into as a child herself, and something she didn’t have the time or the creative mind to think of. It was obvious now that Faith adored creating, and Claire wanted to smack herself upside the head for not thinking of it sooner. God bless that Mrs. Lickett.

“No wonder we watched Nemo tonight, hm? Are these Nemo’s little friends, then?” Claire held up a bright pink paper fish and swam it around in the air, much to Faith’s delight. Faith joined in the little game, and though Claire knew that bedtime was rapidly approaching — for both of them — she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

After a few minutes, Claire led Faith into the kitchen so they could use magnets to put the fish on the fridge. Claire let her arrange them to her heart’s content, only leading her into the bathroom when she was satisfied.

Teeth brushed, pajamas donned, Faith tucked in, and nightlight on, Claire finally allowed herself to fully feel the exhaustion of her day. The adrenaline of seeing Faith had kept her wide awake on the drive home, and then actually being with her had chased away any thoughts of sleepiness. Now, she barely had the energy to prepare a shower, and she very well almost crashed into bed, fully dressed. It was sheer willpower that finally got her back into the bathroom. This reminded her that tomorrow was bath night for Faith, and she sent up a brief prayer that she would cooperate for Mrs. Lickett. She’d considered waiting until she got home and just taking her into the shower with her, but that would have interrupted the movie, and God forbid that should happen. But if she’d waited until the movie was over, it would have been too late, and the routine would be disrupted. No, it had to be Mrs. Lickett.

Washed and dressed for bed, Claire was wide awake, despite how weariness was etched into every muscle and bone in her body. She could not stop thinking about all of the silly little things that could go wrong while she was occupied at the hospital, of all the possible triggers for a meltdown that she would not be able to stop. No matter how well today had gone, no matter how wonderful Mrs. Lickett was, she’d never stop worrying. Maybe not never, but it would certainly be a long time. At some point in her fevered, internal ramblings, Claire teetered into oblivion, grateful for whatever sleep she was lucky enough to get before her alarm screamed again.

——

Claire drove home the following Friday, her knuckles white on the steering wheel and her vision blurred with tears. She’d been so damn grateful to clock out at four o’clock, and she’d barely made it out of the locker room without falling apart in front of Joe.

She lost a patient for the first time today. Paul Castano, forty-seven, much too young for the heart attack that killed him.

Claire had been beside herself, and Joe had soothed her, told her there was nothing she could have done.

“Go home and hug your daughter, Lady Jane,” he’d said. “Enjoy the horses. You need it as much as she does right now.”

And, Christ, did she.

Claire hugged Faith just a little too hard for the slightest bit too long when she got home after nearly bursting into tears at Faith’s joy to see her. Faith did not tolerate being held as such for very long, and she squirmed out of Claire’s grasp. Today, not only was Faith happy to see her mother, she was excited: she knew it was horse therapy day.

Seeing Faith so happy to see her and so excited to get to the stables was a welcome distraction from the anguish Claire was feeling. The drive over to the stables was calming as well, though Claire was now paranoid about the change in appointment times. Toni hadn’t called her at all, so she had no reason to believe that the switch hadn’t gone over well. She supposed after the day she’d had, she’d be prone to overthinking just about anything.

Upon arrival, she calmed considerably at seeing Faith’s exuberance, and even laughed when she began tugging on her hand, willing them to get inside faster.

Leave it to you to get me laughing on the worst of days, Faith.

The door to the visitor’s center opened, and Faith began humming loudly.

“There they are, the Beauchamp girls!” Toni greeted warmly.

“Hello, Toni. Say hello to Miss Toni, Faith.”

“Hello, Faith!” Toni called as Faith waved timidly.

Erica was standing by the counter, and she crouched down to greet Faith. “Hello, Princess. I’m so happy to see you again!”

Faith smiled shyly and hid half of her little body behind her mother’s legs.

“I’m gonna take you guys out to the stable today, get her started with the hellos and leading her to the riding hall.” Erica stood up to address Claire. “Jamie will join us when we get there.”

“Alright,” Claire said, exhaling deeply. “Shall we?”

——

Joe had been right. Claire needed that hour at the stables just as much as Faith had. As they were driving home, Claire felt something resembling peace settle in her heart. Faith was humming happily, kicking her legs, waving the newest Minion Happy Meal toy in the air.

She did very well again today. She was gentle with Pippi, she didn’t protest about the helmet, she was attentive to both Erica and Jamie. Claire kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go terribly wrong, but it just never did. Not at the stables, at least.

They arrived home, Faith zipping up the stairs to the front door as usual. Claire was grateful to get to watch an entire movie with Faith tonight, to decompress, to hold her little girl and be soothed by her oblivious, youthful happiness. When they passed through the front door, Claire dumped the contents of her arms onto the couch as usual and started toward the kitchen, but Faith did not follow. 

“Faithie, come on! Don’t you want your chicken?”

Faith didn’t seem to hear her. She lifted Claire’s purse and looked underneath, and then let out a groan.

“What’s the matter darling?”

Faith made a beeline for the front door, and Claire sprinted to lock it, having forgotten to do so upon arriving home.

“No, no, no,” she quickly blocked Faith’s exit. “What are you doing, Faith? What’s wrong?”

Faith began whining and pawing at Claire, hitting her thighs.

“Do not hit, Faith.” Claire crouched down and grabbed her wrists. “What is wrong? Hm? Hungry? Tired? Pain?” She did the signs that she’d learned from the videos Mrs. Lickett had sent. “Can you sign for Mummy? What’s wrong?”

Of course, she couldn’t. It was much too soon for Faith to be carrying out conversation; she’d only just learned any signs at all.

Faith suddenly began wailing.

“Faith, baby, it’s alright, I’m here…” She wrapped her in her arms, but it only lasted for a moment. Faith clawed her way out and began pounding on the door. 

What could possibly be wrong? What was she looking for on the couch…?

Then it dawned on her.

Horsie.

She hadn’t checked to see if Faith was holding the stuffed horse before they left the stables.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Oh, darling, it’s alright!” She stroked her head and tried cupping her cheeks. “Can you look at my eyes, Faith? Faith…it’s alright. We’ll get Horsie back next week. He’ll be alright.”

She was inconsolable.

Claire exhaled heavily and stood up to retrieve the Happy Meal from the coffee table.

“Aren’t you hungry, darling? McDonald’s! Your favorite!” She held the box in front of Faith’s eyes. “Come on, lovie, let’s go eat.”

She reached to grab her hand, but Faith shrieked and pulled back, apparently having no intention of eating a thing until Horsie was returned. She’d be quite hungry by next Friday.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ…” Claire threw the Happy Meal back on the coffee table and ran a hand through her hair.

She needs to eat dinner. I have to make this stop. There has to be something…

“Do you want to watch a movie, lovie? How about Frozen?”

Claire scrambled to get the DVD in, holding her breath until the movie started, praying that she’d be drawn to the screen and sit down to watch quietly, and then she could gradually coax her to eat on the couch.

But she just continued wailing.

Claire knew full well once a meltdown was in motion it had to run its course. And this particular meltdown would not run its course until the missing object in question was found.

But she can’t not eat, she can’t not sleep…

Claire didn’t realize she started crying until it was too late.

It was just too much. She’d held a man’s hand today while he died before her eyes, and then hugged his inconsolable wife while she came to terms with having to tell her children their father wasn’t coming home. And then Claire had come home and sought comfort in her own child, and she’d gotten a bit, but of course it didn’t last long.

She knew by the time she drove back, the stable would be closed, so she could not go and pick it up. She tried calling the stable, but no one answered. Apparently, everyone had already gone home.

Faith gave a particularly loud shriek, and Claire felt all her nerves go shot one by one. Hands trembling she scrolled through her phone for something, anything.

Jamie.

Toni had provided her the stable number, her own number, and Jamie’s number in case the main phone was busy. He’d mentioned that he and the other therapists took turns staying after closing to see to the horses. She threw up a quick prayer before clicking on his contact to start a phone call. Even if he wasn’t the one that had stayed today, perhaps he could tell her who had and give her their number?

As the line rang, she felt surges of panic go through her. Was this even appropriate? To be contacting his personal cell number for something that wasn’t really an emergency?

Faith started pounding on the front door again, screaming her head off all the while.

Claire suddenly didn’t given a fuck about what was appropriate.

——

Jamie was sitting at his kitchen table, enjoying the stir fry he’d made for himself and his usual glass of whisky. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he made a note to check his texts later, but then it kept buzzing. Somebody was calling him.

Curious, he pulled out his phone and saw a number he didn’t recognize.

“Bloody telemarketers,” was his first thought, but the area code was local. Eyes narrowing in curiosity, he swiped up to accept the call, setting his fork down.

"Hallo? Who's this?"

"Uh...hi, Jamie. It's Claire. Claire Beauchamp. From the stables.”

Jamie felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

"Oh...Oh! Uh, hello, Claire. What's uh...what's going on?"

Someone on the other end shrieked, and his stomach lurched.

"Is that Faith? Is she alright?"

"Yes, she's perfectly fine. Physically, at least. She left her horse at the stable, the stuffed one. She's absolutely beside herself and she won't stop crying. Nothing is calming her down, none of her other toys, not putting on a movie or music, not even food.”

Jamie felt his chest tighten. Her voice sounded strained, and she seemed completely frazzled. The second he’d laid eyes on her at the stable today he could tell that something was wrong. It wasn’t the usual sadness he saw in her eyes, it was something different, something visceral. Whatever was happening now was certainly not helping.

“She won't eat, and I know she won't sleep either. I called you because no one was picking up at the stable and I was hoping you'd still be there but just not near the phone?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. Just in the stable. Canna hear the phone," he answered without thinking. What the damned hell are ye doing, lad?

"Oh, thank Christ. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"No," he said quickly. "I'll, uh, I'll bring it to ye."

"What...?"

"Wouldna do fer ye to be drivin' wi' Faith as she is now." Though Jamie was making things up to cover the fact that he was already home, he wasn't entirely wrong. Even if he was at the stable, he wouldn't feel comfortable with Claire driving twenty minutes with a screaming bairn. "Wouldna be safe.”

"But...it's...are you sure...? You wouldn't get in trouble?"

"Nah. I'm sure other therapists have done the same fer some o' their kids." 

Keep digging, James.

"But you haven't done it before?"

"No."

"But others have?"

"Aye." Liar.

"Alright...as long as you're sure it's not inappropriate."

"Only inappropriate if we make it so, Sassenach."

Why the bloody fuck did I say that?

Claire cleared her throat. “Right. So…you’ve got my address from Faith’s file?”

“Aye.”

“So...twenty minutes? Half hour?"

"Aye. Just about."

Idiot. Bloody feckin’ idiot.

"Alright. See you soon."

"Bye, then."

Jamie hung up, threw his phone on the table and slapped an exasperated hand over his face.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What is wrong wi’ ye?”

[allycryz]

41. “Oh, [deity/expletive], do that again.” for Nerys x Emet-Selch

Oh hey it's actually giving me save draft options on asks now! And it ports over the italics!

5.0 Spoilers, set before the Mt. Gulg dungeon. Not sure if this one if canon–figuring some things out about that whole section–but it lives in the Nerys canon.

Rate E for eggsplicit, some angst

He approaches in that insouciant way he likes. Just as he had yesterday at the base of the ladder; with his musings and observations. This time his smile is dangerous and far closer to the Emet of the past few weeks than the almost-vulnerable man who appeared before.

“Well well, look at you.”

Nerys dissipates the spell in her hand, the other curling tighter about her maple stave. It is a beginner's tool, purchased furtively in the Musica Universalis. A far cry from the elm crook she’d carved herself not long before she gave up on conjury.

“He was right,” Emet continues. He comes to a stop before her, standing as she sits on the ground with her back against a large striated boulder. “If I recall…’my beloved is a woman of many talents. Mistress of the Lance, Wielder of the Awl, Goddess of the Needle-’”

“So you were watching.” He opens his mouth to remind her yet again of his proclivities and she waves a hand to forestall it. Miraculously, he allows it. “You’ve been so scarce since we came to Kholusia I feared we’d become too tedious.”

“Your group as a collective? Often. You in particular? Rarely.”

Nerys snorts. “Thank you, you’re too kind.”

Emet continues looming over her with an expectant look. If she stands to meet him it would feel like a concession. Staying where she is...well, it ceded the high ground but is the better option. Especially when he seems to be in one of his fey moods. “You might materialize some time, actually introduce yourself to Haurchefant.”

“All in good time. Especially if you banish the dreadful light from this place.” He flourishes a hand at the horrifically bright sky and it hurts her eyes to follow the gesture. “This place offers very little shade. Inconsiderate of you, not to do all your heroics in Rak’tika.”

This is comfortable ground. Better than him asking about her activities or the strange place they’d been the last time they coupled–he holding her (and Thancred) at arm’s length even as he debauched them thoroughly. “That’s twice now you’ve braved the eldritch light to speak with me. I’m touched.”

“As I said, you are rarely boring. Now back to the matter at hand. Are your magical abilities as strong as your devotion to the Needle and Skillet? I myself have only witnessed your wind cantrips here and there.”

“I’m surprised you can’t tell, with your mastery of the art.”

“Mm. Well you’ve had some training but…” He tuts. “The structure of your magic is–if I may be honest–rather rushed and lacking. What do they teach in Gridania these days?”

“They are fine teachers,” she says with a furrowed brow. “But I decided to pursue the lance instead.”

“Not your taste?”

“Not my strength. Aetherwork yes, spellcasting and shaping no.” She shakes her head. “But I have been ordered to rest so...I thought I’d try it again to kill time.”

Technically the order of events is a little different than what she portrays. Blessedly, Emet takes offense with the latter half of her tale. “Is that what my art is to you, my dear? A distraction for you to while away the hours?"

“Oh no.” Nerys’ lips twitch. “Because that would insult my comrades as well. You deserve only the most custom and tailored attacks on your person.”

“Truly a Warrior and a Saint.” Emet at last takes pity on her squinting eyes and the hand shading against the sun. He sinks into a crouch with his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs. It’s a shame sunlight bothers him because he looks radiant in it. “Set down your stave.”

“I need a conduit.”

“Mm. You are going to support your spell on your own to fully harness your mind to the task. Let us see if that does not help you.”

“Yes, Master Emet-Selch.”

His smile is lascivious. “Would that you called me so when last I ravished you."

“If you manage to get me to cast magic without my stave? I might consider it using it next time.”

“Such little faith,” he purrs. He shifts, resting his hands light upon her outstretched shins. “Go on then.”

Nerys suspects her wind magic is always successful because a dragoon is a creature of the air and its currents. She need only pull from the element wrapped about her. But Emet had come upon her attempting a sleep spell and he will know if she tries something else. The other domains–earth, fire, and so on–are not easy for her either. What can she pull upon without the stave channeling raw elemental magic into resources?

“Was everyone capable of magic?” She asks, buying herself the time to get centered. “Before, when the world was unsundered.”

Surprise flickers over his face a moment. He smooths it over, affecting the mien of an indulgent professor about to lecture. “Essentially, yes. Some excelled more than others, and in Am-...in the city I dwelled, we made especial study of it."

That first syllable reverberates through her. The light is gone, her dilemma is gone, the beginnings of thirst from sitting in the sun fades away–all she wants is to hear the name of the city. And the intensity of that need is greater than she has ever felt in her life, even for a needful being such as herself.

“Tell me-”

“We had different talents to be sure.” Emet continues, the faint presence of steel under his words as he takes control of the conversation. “Hardly any like me, with an affinity for the very lifestream from which I saved your friend. Others could manipulate the elements as easily as they breathed, outclassing your mortal thaumaturges. And some created their own way…”

His eyes go distant. The lecturer, the man determined not to be interrupted, crumbles in reverie. Nerys dares not breathe. This is yet another facet of Emet new to her–softer than that first night, his pale gold eyes warm, his mouth relaxed.

“She married her magic to her affinity for the sword. You might call it red magery but that pales in comparison to what she could do.”

He looks at her but she does not think he sees her. Bit by bit, his eyes focus and he pulls himself back to Kholusia; the hot, dry air; the dazzling sky. “Shame on you, tricking me into waxing poetic to put off demonstrating your magic. Get on with it and perhaps I won’t demand retribution.”

"And your hands? Are those to be a reward?"

"Depending, perhaps. Or a punishment."

Nothing for it. She spikes her aether to start a spell. The magic in the world–she sees it and tugs at it best as she can, providing her own energy when it does not come to her hand. Haurchefant has talked at length about his forays into thaumaturgy. He and Alphinaud oft compare notes about the differences in their spellcasting-

His flexing fingers on her legs make every detail of those talks fly out of her head. What appears in her hands is formless and leaden at the same time, easily dissipated by a gesture–one of his aether hands, she realises. The ones he only brings out for more amorous situations.

“Who was she? The woman who married sword and magic?” Nerys asks, distracting away from her failure.

"Weave a spell correctly and I may tell you more."He leans forward and kisses the tip of her nose. "You my dear, have a brain that craves focus against the tide of thoughts and second guesses. That single-minded determination when you wield a lance...we must find how to get you there with magic."

"It is the vulnerability of it," she says with not a little exasperation. "I cannot snap my fingers and have magic perform my will. I need to stop in the flow of battle to create the spell and hope I am either quick enough or can withstand the blows that come my way."

"Plenty manage and they are not the resilient Warrior of Light or Darkness."

“I’m well aware. You said it yourself–I have a mind given to racing thoughts without something to keep it occupied.”

“Thus our current situation.” His hands creep higher up her leather-clad thighs. “Now...you love when I praise you in the bedroom. But outside of it? The fear of failure oft drives you. Two sides of the precious coin that you are.”

She swallows, trying to pretend he hasn’t read her utterly. And that he isn’t stroking purposefully now, fingertips grazing over the laces of her pants.

“Hm.”

"As always, your eyes give you away." He purrs. "Trying so very hard to not admit how right I am."

“I-I thought-” She widens her legs a hair and those swirling black and purple aether hands pin her thighs in place. “This was a magic lesson.”

"Mastery of magic and the mind are one and the same, hero. It's all about control. Now...if you would please try again…"

She stares into his eyes with her challenge as the magic around her coalesces in her hands. Her triumph lasts all of three seconds before another of those incorporeal hands sinks through her clothes to circle over aching flesh. Nerys’ breath hitches, the spell collapses in on itself in a half-hearted flash of light.

Some of it lingers in the air, making her lips and tongue go numb a few seconds, her eyes droop before she snaps out of it. Nerys manages to frown before his lips are on hers. Nipping lightly at her lower lip. She starts to return the kiss but he pulls back.

“Again,” he says. What feels like the tips of fingers brush against her entrance. “But if you don’t think you can-”

There is no chance of her magic affecting a man of his powers but ferocity propels her. The structure and shape of this iteration has its flaws but it feels like better. It would serve him right if she did put him to sleep and left him here-

Those tantalizing aether fingers press into her, a near-incorporeal thumb ghosts over her center. Nerys rocks against the sensation with a low, helpless sound pouring from her throat.

“Barely passable,” he says. “But a small improvement.”

She reaches for his shoulders, whining when the motion between her legs slows and stops. “Oh gods. Do that again.”

“You would be better served praying to me, my dear.” He laughs. “Though I am no more merciful than your gods or your Hydaelyn. But I do offer an actual path to salvation.”

Nerys tries to cause her own friction and isn’t surprised when more hands arrive to pin her down. He only laughs at her, white teeth gleaming in the bright sun and eyes dark. “I almost want you to fail, pet. You’re quite-”

The magic flashes out of her in a rush, without thought, without concentration, with nothing but instinct. It is the closest magic has ever felt to using her lance The spell is imperfect as always–she sees the poor construction–but it hits him full in the face.

His nose twitches, his eyes blink, he stifles a small yawn. Such a spell is not enough against him but it does something and she laughs aloud in triumph. “Don’t test me, Ha-”

The words catch in her throat with a strange sob. Nerys does not know what she was about to say or where it came from. She does not know why she feels so...disconnected and connected to him all at once.

His gold eyes flash and at once she is beneath him: shoulders pinned under his flesh hands as he straddles her core. The aether fingers flex rhythmically against her skin in time with...his heart? Nerys doesn’t know how she knows that, but she does.

“Emet?” She whispers.

There is a near-terrified look in his eyes. And then he kisses her in answer, a plundering so thorough she almost cannot return it in full. Every time they come together he shows her a new side of himself. This time is no different.

The first time: admiration, affection, desire.

The second time: distance, control.

And now: something raw and needful and the tide of him sweeps over her. She groans as his frantic hands work at her trousers, at the clasps of his robes. The aether between her legs moves with purpose to prepare her for him.

“Open your legs for me,” he hisses and her assent is muffled by another overwhelming kiss. Her body obeys at once, pliant beneath him. Just his urgency alone, the way he commands her, is enough to get her slick even without-

Her head jerks to the side and she curses at the sensation of fingers pumping into her. She expects a laugh but he shushes her instead, stroking her cheek. Pressing gentle lips at her brow even as his aether is replaced by him; hard, needy, filling her.

Emet holds her tight as he thrusts into her; all desperate sounds rather than teasing eloquence. His breath is harsh in her ears, his gloved fingers pressed tight into her skin, and he swallows every one of her desperate noises.

Whatever change has sparked in him, this is no longer about teasing her. He needs her, needs this, and she doesn’t care how this ends for her as long as he is helped-

His hand slips between them as if he hears her thoughts and she chokes on a sob. Shudders beneath the insistent pressure of his hand. It's almost too much to bear. And he does not back away but rocks and touches until she babbles his name–the one she has always called him–and digs her hands into the dirt. He seizes one, gripping it tight as he comes with a broken sound.

Nerys closes her eyes in the aftershocks. Above, the light burns through her eyelids with only his body providing some shade.

“Th-there," says Emet, breath interrupting his words. "A reward for a better spell."

"Emet." He looks so lost. The quip is only so effective without his usual haughty mien. She touches his cheek and he’s the one to close his eyes, as if savoring the feel of her.

He sits up slow. Seizes her hand to kiss the dirt-smudged knuckles. "I've been discourteous, after you told me you're on strict orders to rest. Do forgive me.:”

“Emet,” she says again. “What has you so scared?”

His laugh is soft and humorless. "When you are as old as me, hero, you will be scared of everything."

He does not expand and he sets them to rights with a flicker of magic. Any evidence is gone from her body and the ache of the light feels lessened now, from the cooling touch of his dark aether.

"Nerys," he says and she startles. Has he ever said her name before? Her mind is so overwhelmed by how he says those syllables–it must be the first time. He says her name like a prayer. Perhaps the first one he has offered in eons to someone not Zodiark.

"Nerys," he says again. "Master the light with all the focus in that fierce mind of yours."

“I...will.”

"Good." He stands. "...When I see you again, it will be when the last warden falls."

"I'll see you then," she says with a nod.

He is gone without preamble, without a farewell, without a kiss. And Nerys is left to wonder.

[the-odd-job]

A primeverse drabble of Sideswipe confusing Jack with genders (I guess the kids haven’t yet learned Cybertronians have no concept of genders) and being kinda overpowered, on account of being a Shockwave made supersoldier and all that. Written while half dead and not proofread so I apologize for any and all weirdness and errors.

“I just landed on Earth. I would really appreciate it if you could tell me where the local Autobot base is, before the ‘Cons find me.”

There were some confusing signals here. On one hand the red Cybertronian down on one knee in front of them, smiling an easy, friendly smile, had a high, young, feminine voice, thin waist, and wide hips. But on the other, their facial features weren’t altogether fitting for a female, and their shoulders were broad. It was a confusing dichotomy, when so far all the mecha they’d met had fallen pretty easily in one of two camps: mech, or femme. Male or female, as it was. This one—Sideswipe, they’d introduced themselves—broke the norm set by everyone else, and Jack felt a lot like he shouldn’t even try to fit them to a specific box because really, gender was a complicated thing and not everything fit into neat boxes– “You don’t have the Autobot insignia,” Raf pointed out, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. Jack focused back on the rest of it at that and quickly scanned the red mech’s frame. And it was true, there was no insignia to be found anywhere on her (his?) frame, only an empty space at the center of her chest that looked like it should’ve held an insignia. That was… A little odd. The femme glanced away at that, shifting uneasily. “There were some… Circumstances that forced me to get rid of it. You know, to save my skin,” she shrugged. “What kind of circumstances?” Miko asked, taking a step closer. There was challenge in her voice, demanding answers, an explanation. “It’s war out there,” Sideswipe sighed in answer, looking weary despite her youthful voice. “And you’re not always in the position to fight. I had to pass off as a Neutral for a while, so… Bye bye markings of the faction I actually belong to.” Seemed… Reasonable enough, at least to Jack’s very lacking knowledge of what interstellar politics were like. Or was it intergalactic? He wasn’t quite sure how far their friends had actually come from. Miko frowned, but she didn’t have too much of an argument either. Other concerns existed, though. “How do we know you’re actually an Autobot?” Raf asked. To their surprise, Sideswipe outright laughed at that. It was a pretty pleasant sound. “What else would I be?” she asked, giving them a lopsided smile. And it was true, her bioights and optics were blue, like Autobots’ were, and like Decepticons’ really weren’t. Jack shared a glance with Raf and Miko. They’d still need to talk to their ‘Bots before they could just tell a stranger where the base was, but– A sudden roar of engines was followed by the sounds of three different transformation sequences. “Jack! Raf! Miko! Get away from him!” Bulkhead’s voice rang out behind them and they all turned to look to see their guardians running towards them. Urgent, almost… Fearful? Him? Sideswipe? A soft hiss of pistons had them glancing back at the red mech, who rose back to his pedes. And it was only now that they could really appreciate how tall he was. He towered over Arcee, even over Bumblebee. Only Bulkhead could match his height. All of this… Probably meant Sideswipe wasn’t an Autobot after all. That suspicion was confirmed when the color of his optics suddenly changed, bleeding from blue, to purple, to red. Starting from his helm the color bled along his biolights, blue slowly draining to give way to devilish red. This was bad. “Run. Run!” Jack yelled at his two human friends, urging them both into motion ahead of himself, and together they bolted towards their guardians. And then behind them, coming to a stop only when Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead were all securely between them and Sideswipe. But the red mech didn’t even try to pursue them, merely straightened himself… Lifted his chin. A smile was playing on his lips, and he looked utterly unconcerned with the fact he was outnumbered three to one. “Ha! Sideswipe doesn’t stand a chance! Better run, ‘Con!” Miko whooped. Jack wasn’t so sure, and from the look on his face, neither did Raf. “What are you doing here, Sideswipe?” Arcee asked, snarling. Sideswipe shrugged, closing his optics demurely. “I heard Megatron was here on Earth. Figured the action would be with him.” “Well, you’re not welcome here,” Bulkhead growled, and it was really, really getting to Jack how relaxed Sideswipe remained. He had no right to be in the face of three warriors as skilled as their guardians were. They kicked ‘Con aft on the regular! “That’s just rude,” Sideswipe sighed, deigning to look at the lot of them again. “I think Megatron would disagree.” Three engines revved before the Autobots on the scene attacked. Arms transformed into blasters; Bulkhead went to close the distance for some good old melee pummeling. Sideswipe’s smile never wavered. And yeah, Sideswipe was as tall as Bulkhead was, but he was considerably lighter built. He was no Breakdown. Despite that, the red mech moved to meet Bulkhead’s charge, and… Swords extended from his arms. And kept extending. And kept extending. And kept extending until they almost brushed the ground. It wasn’t the quick shink that the blades of ones like Optimus and Arcee came to play with. This was slow, methodical—for show, almost. Sideswipe deftly avoided the blaster fire aimed at him, reached Bulkhead, and then they clashed. Except, it wasn’t the epic smashdown it was supposed to be. It wasn’t two titans coming to blows. Bulkhead undoubtedly had brute strength on his side, but Sideswipe moved like quicksilver, always staying two steps ahead of Bulkhead’s attacks, always evading every crippling blow he should have taken. And those swords he had… Slag, you’d have thought their length would be a problem, make them unwieldy. But their slow introduction into the battle was nothing but show, he was sure of that much now. Sideswipe proved well enough that he could both extend and retract them in seconds by doing just that. Every time his swords should’ve gotten in the way, they suddenly disappeared, only to reappear a moment later. And more often than not, that ended with cuts on Bulkhead that the green mech couldn’t block because of the unpredictability and sheer speed Sideswipe employed. Arcee joined the fray, and that should have tipped the scales. Arcee was a fast fighter too, and together her and Bulkhead should have had well enough destructive prowess to bring down any common ‘Con. Except Sideswipe wasn’t common, was he? He was like a dancer when he moved between Arcee and Bulkhead, smooth in every motion—blocking, moving out of the way, attacking to a devastating effect. Bumblebee couldn’t get shots in without risking hitting his comrades, so he went melee also. Three on one. For real, in close quarters. And it never stopped looking like Sideswipe had the upper hand. How was he that fast anyway? It looked almost unnatural—until Jack noticed the bit of heated air that accompanied every particularly fast motion.

Could a mech have jets built into them to enhance their movement speed..? Sideswipe never once lost his smile, despite cutting bleeding gashes into their guardians with his blades that appeared and retracted at a punishing pace. Bumblebee’s leg was almost severed. Arcee got a deep cut across her abdomen. Bulkhead was littered with wounds even his armor couldn’t protect him from. Miko didn’t look so confident anymore. In fact, he was pretty sure horror was reflected on all their faces as they watched the slow obliteration of their friends. He wasn’t… Slag, he wasn’t even sure Sideswipe was all that serious. He made it all look so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying.

He was seriously getting worried they were about to watch their guardians get killed, or at the very least, severely incapacitated, but then, a space bridge opened behind them. They glanced over their shoulders to see Optimus walk through the spinning portal, and relief flushed his veins. There was no way even Sideswipe could stand up against Optimus Prime. Right? “Sideswipe,” Optimus rumbled with a clear note of displeasure. The fight broke off, their injured friends retreating a few steps away as the Prime approached. Sideswipe didn’t try to continue the fight and straightened back to his full height, carelessly flicking some energon off the end of his left hand sword. “Optimus. Long time no see,” he smiled, and could he not freaking stop smiling?

“Does Megatron know you’re here?” Optimus asked, coming to stand beside his comrades. The red mech just shrugged, glancing away and rocking on his heels—not answering. What did that mean? That the Decepticons didn’t know about him? Could that mean he could be captured without the ‘Cons being none the wiser to it? Or killed, even? “Sideswipe, I cannot let you harm my soldiers, or the humans,” Optimus said. “I believe you are a threat if left be.” Sideswipe made an amused sound. “Can’t really disagree with that,” he said with a wry grin, and now Jack could get a good look at his fangs. Definitely a Decepticon through and through. How had they gotten fooled even momentarily? “But,” the red mech continued, inspecting his swords, “I can’t just go quietly, can I?” A shiver ran up Jack’s spine at the words. Sideswipe lifted one of his arms, pointing his sword at Optimus. The threat was clear as day. Did that mean Sideswipe was powerful enough to challenge even Optimus? No, not just Optimus, but Optimus, Arcee, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee? That couldn’t be. There was no way that could be. And maybe it wasn’t, because a vortex opened up behind Sideswipe too, and– Through walked a mech with near identical frame design, only this one was colored in bright gold. “I’m not late, am I?” he asked, and if Sideswipe’s voice was high, the new mech’s was deep, rough, traveling to his core and all but shaking it. “There’s two of them?!” Miko whispered urgently, and Jack knew what they all were thinking. If this new arrival was as strong as Sideswipe was appearing... “Not late at all, Sunny,” Sideswipe smiled, glancing at his near-copy when he came next to him. “Not late at all.”

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Some Dime Novel Fate PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Reader REQUEST: Anon sent: “Your writing is really good! If you can, once you’re feeling alright, could you write an arthur x reader where the reader comes back from a job badly injured and Arthur flips while Grimshaw takes care of her/them? ♥️” WARNINGS: Gore, injury. NOTE: Hey, long time no write. However, I got an injury that’s going to leave me laying around a bit, so it gave me enough reason to complete this. Thank you for sending this in, anon! I hope I followed it close enough to your liking. I also kept things gender neutral since it kind of turned out that way, plus I wanted to write another one for a gn!reader for a while now. 

“I’m just thinkin’ this job ain’t a good idea, doesn’t sound like it’s thought out.”

“It doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

“I just gotta bad feeling ‘bout it…”

“You wanna give me a little trust here, Arthur?”

Your knees hit the ground, the pain that ripped through your side causing you to curl in on yourself a little.

It was strange, some parts of you felt numb while others were throbbing with sharp pain. Still, finally, you were where you needed to be. If it was early morning or early evening, you couldn’t really tell, some heavy fog lingering around the path into camp.

You knew you were a sight to see, your clothes stained with dirt and, more concerning, a deep red on the left side of your shirt, drying to your skin where your blood stained fingers touched. That job was terrible, and if you weren’t so exhausted, you might have felt even a little angry about the fact that one of the times you challenged Arthur, he turned out to be right. It had just been some sort of stage, the amount of guards suggested to you not really making you as nervous as you should have been.

Splitting off might have been a mistake, too, considering you had to take matters into your own hands, even when a bullet had ripped into your side and the dead weight of your horse nearly pinned you to the ground. It hadn’t happened too far from camp, thankfully, though the walk back felt like it took forever with your wounds. You had been waiting for the point where your legs gave out, though you were grateful that it wasn’t too far from where you could get help.

With a grunt, you gathered yourself to a stand again, pressing your hand against your injured side as you tried to ignore the world swaying lightly around you. Though, thankfully, you didn’t have to walk too far before you heard a familiar voice.

“Who is that?”

Karen.

“It’s me,” you said, stepping forward as you could see her stepping out from beside a rock. “I’m not...doing too good.”

“Christ…” she replied, lowering her weapon as she stepped toward you, “We was startin’ to get worried. C’mon.”

You accepted her help by pulling your arm over her shoulder, leaning your good side against her own somewhat as you let her help you walk further into camp. The pain was really starting to kick in as a familiar place took the focus away from just moving, each step pulling a sharp pain from the bullet wound. You knew Karen was talking, saying something to you, but it was a little hard to focus.

“Grimshaw! Anybody? Need some help over here,” she called once you could see the tents and wagons.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long before the woman in question seemed to approach you both, much on time as you could feel your body starting to beg you to rest. It was a bad idea, considering your blood stained hand still pressed tightly to your side, dripping into fabric still damp with blood, and most of your weight resting against Karen’s side.

“What the hell happened?”

“I dunno,” Karen replied, helping you find your feet again a bit, “Just came in here, covered in blood.”

“Job went bad…” you started, letting out a heavy breath, “Got shot. It ripped into my side, don’t know if it’s still in there.”

“Well, c’mon,” Grimshaw said, shifting around to your other side. You let out a short yell at the feeling of her pulling your free arm over her shoulder, stretching your side and blossoming a sharp pain. However it seemed like your cries fell on deaf ears in the moment.

“Abigail, we’re going to use your tent,” she continued, seeming to be talking to people around you, but you were focused on keeping your legs moving along with Karen and Susan. “I need somethin’ to treat a gunshot wound and the space and privacy to do it. Oh, and someone please tell Mr. Morgan before he takes off on his own after nothin’.”

The tent offered some small shade from the sun as you were led into it, a small sigh escaping you as you were sat down on the cot in there. It was hard to focus on much, exhaustion ebbing into your bones very quickly now that everything and everybody was familiar to you, much as Susan’s voice was rather stern and urgent. You needed to stay awake for a while longer, if only to make sure she wasn’t working on you while you were passed out and bleeding onto the Marston’s cot.

Maybe if only to see Arthur so you could tell him you should have listened to him.

Thankfully, however, it wasn’t long before Susan was back in the tent in front of you as she worked on removing your shirt enough to get access to the wound. You took in a deep breath, clenching your teeth as she prodded around a moment before she spoke up.

“Well, there’s a wound back here too,” she muttered, “Means nothin’s still in there. I’ll just close them up and hope that’s all you need.”

“...Is Sean okay?” you asked as you reached down a hand to hold the side of your shirt up as Susan worked on getting the sutures ready.

“Oh, that fool is just fine. You’re the only one hurt here.”

That was a bit of a relief at least.

You had split up on the job, hoping to separate and lose those who were pursuing you. However, it seemed like you were the one who got the sharpshooter of the bunch. You could remember the sound and the fire that had ripped into your abdomen at the impact of the bullet, trying to ignore it in favor of continuing to ride on, but the second bullet had your horse falling out from under you.

You hated to think about it--and you didn’t have to.

Fresh pain broke into your thoughts as you felt Grimshaw starting to close up one of the wounds. You let out a low sound, almost a smothered shout held back by your teeth as you tightened your jaw and focused on the tent flaps in front of you. You could feel each one--one, two, three, four…

“This got you any more to the left and this would be beyond any help of mine,” she commented as she finished with the entry wound, “I know you all really do think of me as some doctor, but…”

“Y-You do what you can,” you replied, shifting to turn around so she could start closing up the one on your back.

“Well, least you’re coherent…” she said, making you clench your teeth again at the feeling of the starts of another suture.

“It’s getting hard to be,” you replied--though, the pain was helping in chase off the sleepy feelings but you knew they would be back once she had you bandaged.

“We’re almost done,” she commented, “Though, I would try to hold out a bit so Arthur can see you’re okay. I think he had half the mind to strangle Mr. McGuire in camp when he said you had split up and it had been a couple hours since he’d last seen you…”

“I’m probably going to get some sort of talk too,” you said, trying to keep your voice even as she continued to close your remaining wound, “He’d warned me about the whole thing.”

“Probably should have listened to him…” Susan commented, almost as an aside to herself but it was hard to miss.

You didn’t say anything in reply to that, allowing her to finish up before she was wrapping a bandage around your torso. The treating of it, finally, brought some comfort. It didn’t remove the pain of it, but it was enough to have you relax some as you pulled your shirt back down. Grimshaw got up, muttering something about washing her hands, though it seemed as she was leaving, someone had been walking steadily toward the tent.

Letting out a sigh, you shifted to sit further back on the cot, not wanting to risk laying down at the moment. Your gaze lifted as a familiar face appeared at the tent flaps, the sight of Arthur filling you with a relief you weren’t aware you had been waiting for.

Meant the whole thing was over, or you were out of danger at least.

“Christ…” he muttered, stepping into the tent as you offered him a small grin that didn’t quite touch your eyes. “Scared the hell outta me, darlin’.”

“I know. Grimshaw was pretty quick to send someone to find you before you left on some goose chase…” you replied, gingerly wrapping your arm around your torso somewhat, “Sorry about that.”

“You’re not the one who got away unharmed, runnin’ his way back into camp with his tail between his legs,” Arthur said, shaking his head.

“It’s not Sean’s fault, I was the one who wanted to split up.”

“Then you’re both fools.”

“Yeah, probably,” you replied with a small sigh, fighting back a grimace at the sharp throbbing near your wounds--probably would be bruised to hell in a bit, too. “My horse is gone, too. Nearly got pinned under him and...well, that’s why it took so long to get back here.”

Despite the initial confrontational tone, it was hard to miss the shift in his demeanor as he let out a small sigh through his nose.

“Sorry,” he said, “‘Bout your horse and everythin’ else.”

“...I should have trusted your judgement,” you replied, dropping your gaze somewhat. “Might’ve…”

“I can be wrong,” he stated around a small huff, “Often am. Can’t do nothin’ ‘bout it now, just...you’re alive, that’s all that matters.”

“...Come here,” you said after a moment, gesturing toward yourself lightly with a hand.

You were used to seeing some hesitation from Arthur, and weren’t exactly surprised to see it now. Still, eventually he stepped a little closer toward the cot, holding your hand up somewhat until he caught your meaning as he bent down far enough for you to press a quick kiss to his mouth. It was one you held for a few moments, exhaustion sitting heavily in your actions much as you knew the pain would make for an uncomfortable sleep.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, alright?” you said after you broke away from the kiss, dropping your hand to his shoulder for a moment as he pulled back, “I’ll be more careful.”

Arthur gave a small sound of acceptance from in his chest, stepping back to allow you to try to get comfortable. You weren’t sure if you were staying in the Marston’s tent for the night, but it didn’t seem like anybody was in too much of a rush to get you out.

“Get some rest,” Arthur muttered, the ghost of a grin touching his face, “Knowin’ you, you’re gonna hate bein’ bed ridden tomorrow but ya need it.”

“...Just don’t kill Sean,” you said after a moment, “Tonight, at least. I’m sure he feels plenty guilty about it.”

“No promises.”