#that led to me getting jumbled up with options as soon as i stepped away from the draft

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Things I have learned today:

Evernote is useful for letting me put multiple versions of drafts and scenes and outlines all in one place, so I can try things out without making a jumbled mess of documents. This is very helpful in the early draft phase when I'm second-guessing everything and want to change things without destroying old versions.

I shouldn't second-guess myself so much. It's good to follow my instincts and let things develop naturally, instead of trying to make everything fit into a certain mold right away.

This especially applies to characters. So what if you don't know your MC? So what if she seems like all your other heroines? Just let her go through the story and then figure out who she is. If you step back for a second and stop being judgemental, you can work with the good in the initial idea instead of muddling everything up by trying to get rid of the bad.

[savagetrickster]

Caffeine Rush (NSFW) | BNHA

anime  |  character:  bnha  |  bakugou katsuki

word count: 17,845

Themes/warnings: 18+, aged-up, praise kink, blowjob, fingering, spanking, overstimulation, swearing, mild degradation, unprotected sex 

The office building that made Ground Zero agency was quiet and still. The appointed office hours were over hours back. 

Most staff had already retired for the day. Among the black, lifeless screens on the desks, only hers stayed running bright and full of words on its screen. 

The cursor behind the word on the tail of her report was left to blink repetitively as she dragged her feet to the pantry. 

Her head felt numb with mental exhaustion as the weight of the nearing deadline reared its ugly head once again as the dreading thought of it reminded her again. The uneasiness and brooding anxiety that it brought about was no help in elevating the stress on her.

Between her heavy thoughts about the report taunting her from her computer screen, her legs brought her to the coffee machine. 

Her hand fell into a mechanical motion as it placed her mug on the dispenser and lifted to press the Espresso option on the LED screen.

This was her third cup...no, fourth. Wait, or was it the sixth? 

It didn’t even matter anymore.

She just needed to get through one more night of slaving away to finish it, and she would be fucking done with this long-due paperwork.

It was stupid of her to procrastinate so much; now she had to pay the price.

In the lonely silence of the pantry, her weary eyes watched the dark coffee dribble over her mug, sending one central ripple across the smooth steaming surface. 

Her hand returned its grip to the handle once again, tugging it out of the dispensing holder. 

A yawn left her as she turned away and instantly greeted with a startled-

“Fuck-” As the coffee in her mug was sent swishing and splashing over its rim as her hand collided into something solid with a curt jerk.

The scalding sting over her hand made her hiss. Her eyes flew up with irritation, her mouth opening to yell.

And she froze.

Then her eyes widened, horror seeping in when she realized she was staring at the angry face of...Ground Zero himself.

Her eyes followed his gaze down to the coffee dripping off his pants.

Well, shit.

A hasty jumble of ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry’ tumbled out of her mouth as she placed down her mug on the countertop behind while her other hand tore a handful of paper towels.

Her knees met as she quickly lowered herself before his stained pants. 

Maybe it was the nights spent over the stupid report. 

Maybe it was the coffee.

It seemed that all common sense or whatever would have kept her from grabbing the front of her boss’s pants had died along with her overworked brain cells.

Her apologies continued stumbling out of her mouth as her hands worked in a hasty pace on his pants, her eyes focused on wiping away the spillage.

Too caught up in her guilt and her panic to realize anything else-

The warmth in her hands was trying to pull away. 

The stuttering mess of curses uttered above her.

The stiffening within her grasp.

He just returned from a long day outside to take some stuff and his craving for the aromatic bitterness of coffee was what brought himself straight to the pantry the moment he stepped through the main door. 

It was absurd to think he would end up being groped by a female employee in the pantry. The brewing words he wanted to yell at the woman with fell at every brisk rub down him. 

Bakugou could feel the resisting voice bubbling in his chest growing quieter at every stroke. 

Fuck. While this was bizarre and all to him, the jolting thrill running up his length sent a delicious chill up his spine. 

A particular thrill of friction brushing over the protruding vein on his clothed erection shook his next breath out of him.

Loud and harsh enough to draw her eyes up to him, her hands pausing.

And was met with a flustered yet irritated face glaring back at her.

Her eyes drifted back to her hands blankly at where her fingers were wrapped around - something was thick and kinda...lengthy. 

In her hands was Ground Zero’s...oh wow.

She always had dirty thoughts about her boss but damn, this was not what she had ever imagined herself doing. 

Along with muscular, lean built and tall stature that could give models a run for their money, the bulge accentuated in his flattering, somewhat fitting pants was a big distraction for the females in his agency...or maybe it was just her. 

Exactly as she had imagined, he was indeed...big in her hands.

And it was...

Her fingers tightened slightly. ...hard.

A responsive jolt accompanied by a hissing curse made her jump, slapping her with a cold splash of realization.

Shit.

That she was on her knees in her company’s pantry, caressing her boss’s cock.

Oh shit.

Her hands flinched away from him as if scalded and her legs scrambled to get her away. A bright, red blush colored the flustered horror on her face.

She was so fired. 

So so FIRED-

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

Her eyes raised to find him looking down at her with a towering glare brimming with impatience and frustration.

“You think you can just get away like this?” 

“I’m so sorr-”

“Weren’t you just fondling with my cock?” His usual husky voice sounded rougher and breathless. “Who the fuck said you can stop?”

She stared, stunned. Wondering whether her ears were failing her as well. 

But clearly they weren’t because she could hear an intriguing strain in his voice.

The struggle in his gruffness and the red eyes prodding into her sent a needy ache within her, feeling a gush of her arousal soaked through her panties underneath her dress.

A slip of her eyes from his face, a shiver ran through her at how his nipples on his well-defined pecs were poking through the tight clad of his hero costume on him. 

Her eyes slipped even lower.

The huge tent prodding through his pants made her eyes waver and her breath quivered through her lips. 

Was she high from all the coffee? Or had she officially gone nuts?

She wasn’t sure what, but she didn’t even want to care.  

The man of her dreams himself was offering himself to her. 

She could feel her body trembling with a strong ache. The long, yearning ache that had followed her through the years and pushed her to join his agency.

An ache to be filled by Bakugou Katsuki, the world’s second strongest man.

An ache to feel him shove his cock into her.

An ache to make her wild thoughts about him come true.

She felt the last straining thread holding herself back snap as her hands flew forward, immediately working on the buckle around his waist.

Her lips were stretched over his leaking cock as soon as it sprang free from his pants. 

The pre-cum spilling over from his swollen tip smeared over her lips as she moaned giddily at the melting heat in her mouth.

The hand tugging harshly onto her hair dug even more pressure into her scalp as a throaty groan joined her muffled moan.

“Ye-Yeah, show me what you’ve got.” 

A grin stretched across Bakugou’s face as he pressed himself harder into her, feeling his cock sink deeper into her warm cavern, her moans spiked with a choke. 

“And I’ll give you a good one later.” 

His hand left her head to join the other clutching onto the edge of the countertop behind her.

Her walls clenched to his words just as her eyes watered at the pressure pressed to the back of her throat.

Fuck, he was as thick as she had guessed. But she had never imagined he would be so...veiny.

She drew back and relished in the heavy pants and moans from above, tracing her tongue daringly across the trails of veins running along with his lengthy girth. 

Her hands raised to join her mouth, adding on with tightening squeeze as she lingered at the tip of his bulging cock. 

A slow, elaborate lick across the weeping slit on it, her throat swallowed with a  deep gulp.

Almost instantly, a dragging grunt rumbled through his body. 

Humming in delight at what she heard, her cheeks hollowed as she started to suckle heatedly over the hot running tip. 

Within the firm grip of her hand, she could feel his thick girth filling up, growing thicker as she welcomed more pre-cum into her.  

The husky moans from above light a smirking glint in her eyes as she reached a hand up his length and clamped over his balls with a teasing curt squeeze.

Immediately, the husky moans from him hitched with a broken grunt. 

Her walls clenched tight at how erotic that sounded.

“Y-You take my cock so well. Do you think you deserve to be fucked by me?”

The small collected pool of her own arousal on the floor beneath her heated cunt was rained upon by another surge as her walls convulsed with need.

“No, I-I don’t,” His stiff cock popped free from her mouth, a slick thread of her saliva remained connected to its flushed, bloated tip. 

“Bu-But Bakugou-sama, you deserve to be inside me.” Her eyes were fogged with hazy heat and her cheeks red. 

Bakugou…

His cock spluttered another rush of pre-cum. 

...-sama?

“I-I’ve been ready for you ever since I laid my eyes on you.” 

His red eyes shook with his expelling breath as a carnal jolt rippled through him, his cock tightening even more with the growing pressure within.

“Strip completely,” His eyes blazed as he spat his order, “Get on that table and show me how much your pussy wants me then.”

Clothes were strewn on the floor in an irregular trail to the broad table sitting in the center of the pantry. 

Propped by her arms behind her, her legs shook with effort to keep her thighs wide apart for him. 

Her heated cunt wouldn’t stop leaking, trickles of her slick fluid continued to join the collected puddle on the table below as the man took his time to approach.

The way his hungry gaze sat fix on her weeping folds stretched wide enough for the chills from the air conditioner to tickle her. 

Red eyes took in the sight before him greedily.

The clench of her eyebrows on her forehead

The way she bit down on her lower lips. 

Her face flushed red and her breasts rising and falling with harsh pants.

And the way her raised thighs were spread wide apart for him.

“Look at you,” Bakugou stopped before her, his lips forming a smug smirk at the sight for the glistening trickles slipping out of her, “...Already dirtying my property with your slutty pussy.” 

Her breathy pants spiked with a moan as he pressed two fingers to her clit, pinching it briefly before moving down.

A gathering of her warm arousal coated his fingers as they ran lightly over her-  

“I haven’t even done shit yet,” -and paused to pry her sopping folds apart. “But fuck, you’re already so wet.”

A gasping whimper puffed out of her as his fingers pushed through the thick coat and into her aching walls. 

The wet, lewd squelch dragged through the air as her wispy whimper rose to a drawn moan at the delicious thrill his fingers made as they bulldozed their way into her sensitive walls.

She found it hard not to stare at the way his erected, weeping cock prodded against his toned stomach. Wondering with a wistful sigh about how it would feel inside her.

“Ba-Bakugou-sama, I-” A rough shove of one more finger into her tore a startled cry through her words. 

“You what?” His lips widened with a grin as his fingers curled and stretched teasingly within her pulsing walls.

“P-Please…” 

Her eyes raised to his, staring back helplessly at the amusement in his dancing red eyes, trying not to give in to her aching desire to return to his cock. “...fuck me.”

Her struggle against her straying eyes was not missed.   

“Aren’t my fingers already doing that?” His knowing grin widened. “Oh you mean...like this?” 

His calloused fingers inside her suddenly sped, thrusting through her walls vigorously.

Gasping moans rode through her throat as fast, furious friction of the loud, lewd squelches accompanying his pumping fingers rubbed the heated air between them frantically.

The building pleasure within her was making her dizzy with euphoric fever as her moans rose. 

Uncontrollable hot tears escaped her dazed, wavering eyes as she watched his fingers work heatedly between her wide opened thighs.

Her walls were convulsing, resonating with her urgent need to release the pent-up pressure inside her. 

Not even coffee could keep her this awake. 

The jolting thrills were shaking her overstimulated body. “Baku-Bakugou-sama, I’m-” 

His fingers were ripped out of her before she could finish. A startled moan elicited out of her at the same time.

The slick threads connecting his fingers to her spilling cunt quivered as Bakugou brought his hand up, his eyes admiring the result of his work with a satisfied glint.

He brought his heavily coated fingers before her panting, parted lips with a smug, intense gaze. 

“Clean up this shit.” His gruff voice was commanding and blunt.

Her lips immediately latched onto his fingers, hastily lapping up her own fluid. It tasted weird on her tongue, but she didn’t bother too much. 

She could feel her body shivering with impatience and frustration. One big gulp down her throat, her eyes raised to him with anticipation, in time to see his hand run over his cock.

“I think it’s time I give you your little reward.” His eyes met hers. “Be grateful that I, Ground Zero, even considered putting my cock inside you.”

“Tha-Thank you, Ground Zero.” Her eyes followed his hand as it slid over his swollen tip. 

“Bakugou-sama suits your mouth better. Eyes up here,” The edge in his voice hardened. Her eyes raised to his obediently. “Thank me properly if you want me inside now.” 

A thrill jolted through her cunt.

Fuck, in her head where her imagination ran wild, he was always the dominating one but witnessing it with her own eyes...Shit, she never knew he could be any more sexier. 

“Thank you, Bakugou-sama.” A sultry purr reverberated in her chest as she sighed giddly at the sinful sight the way his leaking arousal was giving away his own needs for her cunt.

Today was probably by far the best day of her life. The sex gods if there were any, were smiling down on her.

“Now, get down onto the floor on all fours.”

Her slick arousal cascaded down her thighs the moment she eagerly set herself on her knees. Her  softly arched back accentuated her ass as her excitement ran through her throbbing walls.

A shuddering chill ran up her spine at the light brush of his cock across her protruding ass as Bakugou planted himself behind her.

His eyes narrowed at the gap between her thighs.

“Is this how you show me your gratitude?” His hand landed on her butt cheek with a harsh slap. She responded to him with a sharp cry as her body jolted.

“Open wider.” A sharp sting rang across her other butt cheeks as another slap landed.

“...And I’ll fuck you like the little slut you are.” 

His words sounded so...hot to her ears.

With a shivering whimper, she obeyed, lowering herself with forearms propped shakily on the floor beneath her. 

Her butt cheeks spread open as she pushed her thighs apart for him.

His breath shuddered out of him as he watched the quivering threads of her slick fluid stretched, following the widening space between her sopping folds she made from parting herself.

All these...

A strangled groan escaped him. 

...for him.

The tight pressure strained in his bulging girth even more. Fuck, he couldn’t wait anymore.

His hand slipped up her arched back and wrapped itself tightly around the end of her long hair, her back arching even more to his firm grip on her, as his other slathered his needy cock over her dripping slit. 

The delirious whimper shuddering down to her cunt fanned his carnal ache to shove himself in.

The tightening grip on her hair was her only warning before his hip shot forward. His cock plunged through the pouring flow of her arousal and buried completely into her in one powerful rut.

The bright flash of pleasure searing through the sudden big, wide stretch of her cervix forced a choked moan out of her, hot tears spilling out of her widened eyes at how thick he was.

“Fu-Fuck,” A trembling grunt shook out of his lips as he drew himself back through the walls clamped in a vice-like grip around him. “What a tight little bitch you are-”

His cock rammed in one bruising thrust, shoving an instantaneous sharp cry out of her mouth.

More continued to tumble out of her as he continued to hammer into her, his hand tugging harshly onto her hair like it was his rein.

The other hand in a clutching grip on her hip as his cock drove fiercely through her pulsing walls. 

Helpless sobbing moans forced out her mouth at every rough snap of his hip. Her eyes nearly rolled back every time he pounded into her.

A sly grin stretched his panting lips as he thrusted mercilessly into her

“Too much for you?” A slap on her ass drew another cry from her. 

Somewhere between his powerful ruts, his hand had left her hair and joined the other on her hip in a harsh grip. 

His intense gaze glared into her as she staggered weakly on her shaky arms with giddy whimpers and groans. She was a slobbering mess beneath his towering stance.

“Keep up with me.” A growl ripped through his words as he gave her another slap on her ass.

In the smothering heat ramming between her clenching walls, she was beginning to see white flashes behind her fluttering blinks. 

Blazing brighter and brighter as she felt his rushing cock push her fast to the edge. She couldn’t anymore. 

It was too...

“Ba-Bakugou-sama!” 

A tattered shriek broke her voice as a starburst of electrifying ripple shattered through her shaking body, her orgasm instantly flooding his relentless cock with her rich arousal.

The hiss sifted through his gritted teeth as Bakugou bit back a groan at the hot burst and her rapidly gripping walls that were engulfing him greedily.  

Fuck. This was it for him too.

Along with the squeezing tightness around him, the overpowering load in his cock forced the rolls of his hip to grow hectic and furious.

Her fleeting moans joined his breathless groans as he chased his own release with a fervor blazing in his red eyes, ramming hot blistering thrusts into her.

His desperate thrusts were accompanied with slippery, frantic squelches loud enough to mingle with harsh claps of their slapping skin as his hip met with her flushed ass heatedly.

One particularly sharp, powerful thrust forward forced a growling moan shredding through his mouth as his hip snapped into her and buckled erratically.

A loud sultry groan dragged through her throat as she felt the bulging tip of his swollen cock nestle into the deepest part of her with a rough prod. 

The hot burst of his thick rich seed spluttering fiercely inside her made her eyes roll back.  

The back of his muscular thigh clenched as he held his spurting cock snug inside her, expelling a wavering satisfied sigh.

Her dragging groan ended with a delirious whimper as she relished in the warm fullness inside her, her walls stirring their mixed fluid with fluttering clenches.

One thought ran in her hazy head as she crumbled to the floor, amused and amazed.

That she had done it.

Her dreams came true.

That she had actually fucked one of the hottest men alive.

[whittakerjodie]

Heya, I absolutely love your writing! Could I request a 13th doctor x reader with prompts #12 and #25 (from list 5) if that's possible please?

Warnings for extreme angst, blood mention, burn mention. yeah, I went all out on this one. SPOILERS FOR S12

There was a moment, on Gallifrey, with the smoke of your planet burning through your lungs, that you were sure the Doctor wouldn’t go through with it. Your companions sent away, the cybermasters stationary, and the three remaining time lords silent. But the moment did not last long. 

The Master, ever so eager to drag the Doctor down to his depths, commanded her to do it; activate the death particle and wipe out what remained of the time lords, of their shared history. You, too, would disappear with it all. But you were willing to go, if it meant being with the Doctor in such a time. Before the Doctor could go through with it, though, another figure entered. Ko Sharmus, offering to do it for her. Again, you were sure she wouldn’t do it- let someone else take on such a burden for her. Part of you wished she wouldn’t. This was something that, if done, had to be done by her or you- anyone who actually had a stake in the proceedings. Not a bystander, someone who should’ve listened to instructions and been safe. 

Yet, she did. Pulling away from the Master, she ran, like she always did. Hand in hers you followed, despite reluctance, as you always had and always would. Reuniting with the TARDIS was both extremely relieving and questionable. It felt as though you were returning home, to safety and beyond. Simultaneously, though, it felt like you were leaving far too much behind and carrying everything with you all at once. 

The Doctor and you did not speak for several moments, perhaps both acknowledging the conflicting concoction of emotion that sealed your lips shut. She floated over the console, poking and prodding, to mimic a reality in which she actually knew where she was going next. Neither of you knew, and you certainly weren’t expecting what would happen in the next following moments. 

When the Judoon arrived, somehow making their way onto the TARDIS, your first instinct was to step in front of the Doctor. Why you felt like she needed to be protected from them, you had no idea. The Judoon didn’t appreciate this defensive movement. The one on the far right held up a small device, pointing it at you. Before you could properly analyze it and make the necessary precautions, the end of it flashed, and there was no light after that. 

When you woke up, the Doctor was gone. Furious and confused, you worked with the TARDIS controls in a desperate attempt to get a trail on where the judoon had taken her. Unfortunately, it seemed as though their device had knocked you unconscious for quite a while. It had been too much time, and they had travelled too much distance, to properly get any sort of helpful reading. She was just… gone.

 There was only one option remaining to contact her. Neither of you had used it much, being around humans with little to no psychic capabilities. But ever since your recent run in with the Master, you’d utilized it multiple times. You could feel that your skills were sharper and felt that they might be tuned in enough to contact the Doctor wherever she may be. Finding your shared room was the first step. Having a special space that connected the two of you would help your focus. Curled up in bed, head resting against her pillow, you imagined seeing her again. Her voice, her laugh, her being. After a few moments past, you whispered “Contact” 

Despite the series of events that led you up to this moment, you weren’t quite prepared for the chaos that you found. Opening your eyes, you found yourself standing in a room made of rock. You were surprised that you’d managed to connect with anyone, given that you hadn’t even heard a contact in response. If it was the Doctor you connected with, she was in bad enough shape to let you in so easily. 

Sure enough, you turned to find your timelord banging her fists against the walls. Wincing, you watched her fists make contact with the solid rock over, and over, and over, blood staining the surface. 

“Stop!” you yelped, running over to her. Your hands passed through her, and you remembered that you were not actually there to help her. The sensation, though, was enough to make her jump back and swivel on her feet. Meeting her eyes, another piece of you shattered. Her own gaze was wild, afraid, her muscles tensed.

 “Y/n!” She ran closer to you, trying to get a proper grip on you. “Are you actually here, or just an image? Because I’m really tired of asking and really tired of trying to get out of here.” 

“W-well,” You stammered, not sure how to react to her frenzied state. “I mean, I am an image, but-” 

The Doctor made a sound that was almost akin to a growl, returning to pounding against the walls. “Seriously?!” 

“But I’m an actual image, Doctor!” You shouted. “I’m here, in your head, from the TARDIS” She leaned against the rock, shoulders shaking. Concerned, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her as if you could actually do so. Looking closer, you saw that she was laughing, with a few tears to join the cynical sound. “I’m being honest, Doctor. Make proper contact with me, and you’ll see.” 

“I don’t think I can do that,” She said shakily. “I can’t focus on so much at once!”

 “Okay, well, we just need to focus, right? Please, Doctor, I really need to find out where you are and I think we can do that if we can make a proper connection” 

“Focus on what?” She mumbled, sliding to the floor. Using the wall as her support she curled up, facing away from you. “What could I possibly want to focus on right now?” 

“You could focus on me,” You offered quietly, trying to put more effort into your hand stroking her hair, so she could feel it more realistically. All it seemed to do was make her shake harder, retreating into herself. It was almost as if she was trying to get away from you. Throat tight, you whispered: “Doctor?” 

“I saw how disappointed you were,” She admitted, shrugging away from your hand and the psychic comfort it brought. There was a small gasp before she continued, “On Gallifrey, you were..” 

“No, no-” You assured her, but even you weren’t sure of the validity of your words.

 “Please don’t lie to me now,” She cut you off. “I really don’t think I can take more lies” 

Shrinking back in guilty, you whispered: “I’m sorry” 

“ All of the lies, and loss and…” Her words were becoming more jumbled and rushed. “I feel sick…so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest and I can’t think about everything I just have to get out of here-” 

“Hey,” You cut in, trying to pull her to face you. It didn’t work, so you moved to where she could see you. Where she had to look at you, focus on you, hear you. “Stop, okay, just stop for a moment.” 

“You really think I could?” The Doctor bit back, standing and walking to the window. “I can’t stop because I’m here now and I need to leave now.” 

“Well you’re not leaving like this,” You scolded. She turned to you with a fire in her eyes and you knew that you had to find some way to calm her down before it burned through her entirely.

 “Well that’s helpful,” She said sarcastically. Reaching for the bars on the window she quickly pulled back, yelping in pain. You ran to her side, gasping as you saw the burn marks start to appear on her palms. The connection became more strong in your desperation to ease her pain. When you grabbed her hands, it felt as if you were right there with her. 

“Okay, we need to sit and focus for a moment.” The Doctor, exhausted from her attempts to leave and the pain flowing through her, nodded. You both sunk to the floor once again, your arms wrapped around her. 

“I’m just so tired,” She whimpered. “But I can’t be, can I?” 

“Yes, you can, Doctor. You’re allowed rest, reprieve. Especially after what’s happened.” She moved to rest her head against  your chest but passed through you, head hitting the wall with a small thunk. She groaned and you smiled. 

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to do much to get out of here like this,” You told her. “But that doesn’t mean you never will. It just means we need to tackle some other things first.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” She returned, accepting defeat. 

“You have to talk to me, Doctor.” and, much to your satisfaction she did. For a while, she went in circles, and you redirected her back. Soon enough, she came to the biggest peak standing in her way. 

“I worked so hard to bring Gallifrey back. They mistreated me, still, but I still brought them back. And I always imagined, someday, that I could go back too. Just for a little while, and it would be good. And maybe Mi- The Master would be there, changed. Better. All these plans, ideals. Now they’re gone. Now it’s over…I don’t really know what to do.” 

The confession seemed to be somewhat of a relief. She was no longer turned away from you, rather staring at the rock wall ahead of her emptily. 

“You do your best to move on. We all do. Because it’s all that we can do.” 

“I’ve moved on so many times, Y/n. Sometimes I don’t even think I know where I am now.” 

“But you’ll find that place, eventually.” You countered hopefully. “It might take a while, but every time you’ve had to move on, it’s been to a new place, a certain place. What makes you think it’ll be different this time?” 

The Doctor didn’t respond initially, lost in thought. “Not sure.” 

“That’s because there isn’t anything different this time. “ Your head poked upward, towards the door to her cell. In the distance, you could hear noises, footsteps, words. People were coming. Guards perhaps? But surely you had no reason to worry. You weren’t actually there. 

“Psychic activity detected” A low Judoon voice grumbled. Your eyes widened. How could they possibly know? Most importantly: what were they going to do about it? 

“Activating Psychic Barrier” Another voice broke through. The Doctor turned to you, just as alarmed. You only had a few moments remaining. “Listen, Doctor, it’s no different this time, okay? You can move on. You deserve to move on and you have to. I’m- listen, I’m going to find the others, okay? And then we’re going to find-” 

Before you could finish, you found yourself leaping off of the Doctors pillow. Suddenly, your mind was back in your body. Alone in the TARDIS. 

“Contact,” You said into thin air. But there was no sensation, no feeling. Like you’d never reached out at all, you were suddenly cut off from the Doctor entirely. 

[meghanpage]

To the Stars Ch. 1 - Maiden Voyage

Words: 1832

Also on AO3

---

The dock was packed with bodies, all jostling in their queues, voices raised in wonder at the massive ship waiting for them.

The RMS Titanic stood proudly in her moorings, dwarfing the huge crowd waiting to board. Cranes lifted crates and other cargo onto her deck, while first class passengers were escorted up the gangplanks and third class made their way through health inspection. White Star Line porters raised their voices to direct the crowd, checking luggage and welcoming passengers aboard. And through it all, no one could reign in their thrill over the phenomenon of a ship - the biggest ever built, a marvel of engineering.

The nasally toot of a car horn broke through the din of the crowd, warning people to move aside for the trio of cars trundling down the dock. As they rolled to a stop alongside the ship, the driver of the lead vehicle jumped from his seat and hurried around to the side, opening the door and holding out a hand for the passenger.

She took it and stepped gracefully out of the car, onto the wood of the dock. Tilting back her wide brimmed hat, Valentina took her first look at the ship that was to carry her away.

Before this moment, everything had seemed like a far-off idea, just talk and planning. With her father’s death had come the revelation of his debt, and the family fortune had been whittled away. Her sister Eva had decided there was only one thing to do to secure their futures: have Valentina marry, and marry well.

So Valentina had found herself with a ring on her finger. Her grief for her father had lingered, and she felt bitter that she wasn’t given her time to mourn, Eva pushing her to get over it and go socializing as soon as possible. Even so, it had been easier to just play her part, winning over a respectable man and letting her sister handle all the arrangements.

 It didn’t matter that she didn’t truly care for Lucho, that sometimes she could barely stand his presence. She was almost as good at ignoring her own wishes as he was. He was a gentleman of high standing, someone who could secure her and her sister’s futures.

So she had done what she had to, and accepted his proposal. She knew what was to come, but still, it had all felt so distant, more like a rumor of someone else’s life.

But now the  Titanic  was in front of her, and it was all too real.

Someone exited the car behind her, and Valentina looked over to find her fiancé, Lucho, gazing at the ship with pride, as if it was he that had built it.

In the mood to be a bit petulant, Valentina remarked, “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It doesn’t look any bigger than the Mauretania.”

Lucho scoffed. “Don’t be like that, Vale. This is  Titanic! It’s over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania, and much more luxurious.”

Valentina said nothing, letting his adulations of the ship wash over her like so much background noise as she wandered a little ways away. Lucho shook his head, holding out his hand to help the last occupant of the car step out. “Your sister is far too hard to impress, Eva.”

Eva gave him a polite chuckle, her own eyes fixed on the Titanic. “So this is the ship they say is unsinkable,” she said, her voice appraising.

“It is unsinkable,” Lucho stated grandly. “God himself could not sink this ship-”

Valentina was glad when a porter interrupted Lucho about their baggage, letting her take in her surrounding without his grandstanding. She watched as workers loaded luggage onto pallets, as lower class passengers had their heads checked for lice, as people already aboard waved jubilantly from the decks of the ship. All around her in the thronging crowd, voices were raised in excitement at finally boarding the  Titanic .

All she wanted to do was scream. Her father was barely cold in the ground, and here she was, being carted back home with a veritable stranger by her side. She didn’t understand how Eva could even think of leaving the place where León was buried. Still, to ensure her family was taken care of, this was likely the best option she had.

Besides, she was a well-bred lady, and knew she was expected to act like one. She pushed her discomfort down and focused on the moment.

“Chivis, my coat?” she asked the family maidservant, receiving a confirmation as Lucho herded the group towards the loading area. Chivis was an older woman who had worked for the Carvajals for as long as Valentina could remember. She was glad she was there, a familiar face to keep her company.

All too soon they were scaling the gangplank, porters just inside the doors to greet each passenger with a proud smile.

With Eva in front, Lucho to her side, and Lucho’s manservant, Montilla following close behind, Valentina couldn’t shake the feeling she was being led onto the ship in chains.

---

Juliana studied her opponents around their small table, searching their faces for any tell, no matter how fleeting. She kept her own face carefully neutral, despite the way her heart was pounding in her chest. Piled in the center of the table was all the money she owned, down to the last cent. It was a risk, a huge one, but she figured that since she had nothing, she had nothing to lose. Besides, the contents of the pot were well worth the gamble. It was all in, everyone having turned out their pockets. A Swiss army knife and a pocket watch joined the jumble of coins, and on top was the piece that had everyone’s palms sweating - a single steerage ticket for the RMS Titanic.

Juliana discarded a card, hiding a tremble in her fingers as she drew another. Her fate depended on this card. With this draw she could be traveling on the greatest ship the world had ever seen, traveling towards home and her mother’s embrace… or she could lose everything.

As she added the card to her hand, she had to fight to keep a smile from her face. A ten. Paired with her other ten and her trio of threes, she had a full house.

She couldn’t celebrate yet though. She still had to see what the other players had.

“All right, moment of truth,” she said. Someone’s life was about to change, right there in that pub.

She watched as the other revealed their cards one by one. The woman to her left threw hers down with a scowl, showing nothing of worth. The man across the table had nothing as well, leaning back in his chair in defeat.

That only left one player. Juliana’s hear picked up speed once more, threatening to beat out of her chest. One last player, but the most daunting one. As the person who had bet the ticket, he had the most motivation of them all to win it back.

He fixed her with a smug look, and Juliana’s stomach swooped as he laid his cards out.

“Two pair,” she remarked, almost breathless. A two pair. She couldn’t believe it.

She had done it.

Shaking her head contritely, she let out a sigh. “You sure do make it hard,” she told the man. A look of triumph passed over his face, but before he could start celebrating, she continued, “Hard for me to wipe you clean. Full house!”

She slapped her threes over tens on the table, jumping to her feet in victory. The table burst into motion; the man across from her leaped to his feet to check her cards, while the man she had bested slapped his hands to his head, his face painted in stupefaction.

Juliana was unable to stop the laughter that poured from her. She snatched the ticket from the table, holding it high. “I’m going to America!”

“No, lass.” The barkeeper’s voice cut through the din of excitement. “Titanic is going to America. In five minutes.” He pointed his thumb over her shoulder to the wall clock, which showed five minutes to noon.

With a curse, Juliana scrambled to scrape her winnings from the table into her canvas bag. Tossing the bag over her shoulder, she dashed out of the pub and towards the ship. As she sprinted full-tilt down the docks, weaving through the crowd and dodging carts and equipment, she couldn’t help but let out another laugh. She had done it, she had won, and soon she would be riding in high style.

She spotted a gangplank just being pulled away from the ship and put on an extra burst of speed, shouting for the porters to wait.

“I’m a passenger! A passenger!” she called as she rushed to the end of the gangplank, waving her ticket at the porter who was hanging out of the open door in the side of the ship.

He shot her a suspicious look. “Have you been through the inspection queue?”

“Of course,” she lied easily. “Anyways, I’m American.”

The porter hesitated for a moment, but then relented. “Right. Come aboard.”

Juliana jumped the space between the gangplank and the door, giving the porter a quick thanks and hurrying off further into the ship before he could question her further. As she darted through the crowded third class corridors, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

Bypassing her bunk, she raced straight for the upper decks. She found an open spot at the railing and dropped her bag at her feet, leaning out over the top rung.

Breathing hard, she finally let herself take it all in. She was on the  Titanic, the largest and most luxurious ship the world had ever seen. And it was going to take her back home. It had been years since she had seen America - even longer since she had seen her mother. They had kept in touch during Juilana’s travels, but it had been sporadic, and the idea of seeing her ma’s face again made her chest ache. But through an extraordinary stroke of luck, she could now be on her way to do just that, Chino be damned.

She let herself get caught up in the jubilant atmosphere as everyone waved and shouted to those seeing the ship off down at the docks. A wide grin crossed her face, but she didn’t wave - she didn’t know anyone down below, although that wasn’t the point. As the crowd around her called their farewells, she made her own goodbyes to that part of her life. She said goodbye to the rolling British countryside and the twisting streets of Paris, to England, to France, to Spain.

And though she truly would miss her time in Europe, it was time to look out across the sea, to another new chapter in her life.

[fromkaermorhentolettenhove]

Running With The Wolves

Summary: Jaskier’s looking for a night of fun.

Geralt, Lambert, and Eskel are more than happy to oblige.

(Alternatively: Yen makes sure Jaskier doesn’t make too many bad decision in one night)

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Modern AU, First Meetings, Foursome (MMMM), PWP

A/N: the tags on ao3 go into more detail. lmk if i should tag anything else

-

AO3

or

It was Jaskier who had begged to go out, pestering Yennefer until she finally relented and took them to a nearby club. He had entered the club with glee, pointing out several men, but after each and every one appeared to have partners already, Jaskier’s initial happiness soon faded. Now, he was moping about like he had lost his most prized possession. 

“You dragged us all this way just to be sad?” Yennefer glowered over her drink. 

“No,” Jaskier picked his head up from the table. “I just hoped our options wouldn’t be so...sparse.”

The club was packed, but luck wasn’t on Jaskier’s side. Yennefer rolled her eyes, taking a sip as she checked the time. The night was still young and that worried her the most. Yennefer was sure she was going to lose her mind if she didn’t find someone for Jaskier soon.

“Oh! If you’ll excuse me, Yennefer, I’m going to climb that man like a tree.”

Glancing to where Jaskier had already headed towards, she could see a tall man with a serious look. He was muscular, intimidating with a sense of mystery around him, and Yennefer could already see Jaskier’s downfall. Unfortunately, there was no stopping Jaskier once he started.

As Jaskier sidled alongside the man, he put on a sly grin and pointedly took the straw from his drink into his mouth. The man glanced at him, the corner of his mouth quirking but no more than that. 

“What brings you here?” Jaskier asked, staring into the golden eyes that pierced into him. 

“Perhaps the same as you,” the man replied. 

His voice was lower than Jaskier expected and a shiver ran up his spine. “Oh, delightful,” Jaskier purred. “You alone then?”

At this the man shifted, an awkward glance to the side. “No.”

Disappointment twisted Jaskier’s stomach and he didn’t hide his falling expression. “Oh, okay,” Jaskier leaned back ready to excuse himself. 

“Wait,” the man interjected. “I’m here with my friends.”

He gestured to the bar where Jaskier could see two other men with the same physique. They were caught in their own conversation, occasionally looking back at Jaskier and the man he was with, curiosity apparent. 

“We...like to share,” the man spoke, hands wringing. “But if you’d like it to be just you and me, that would be fine as well.”

Jaskier’s mind drew a blank and his mouth dropped open ever so slightly. To be in bed with not one, but three incredible-looking men was making him reel. Doors upon doors were opening up to him and he finally brought himself back into his body. 

“God, all three of you. Please.”

The man let out an amused chuckle, motioning the two men over. They hesitated at first, but soon made their way back, swagger in their steps. 

“This is Eskel and Lambert,” the man introduced, his friends giving little waves to their respective names. “I’m Geralt.”

Jaskier didn’t realize he hadn’t started speaking yet until the three men gave him concerned looks. “Oh, I’m Jaskier. Yes, that’s me.”

The men laughed a little at this and Jaskier couldn’t help but join in. He felt like someone having their first sexual encounter despite the many escapades he had before this moment. All his thoughts were jumbled until an arm wrapped around his shoulder, bringing him back to the reality of the situation. 

“Evening, gentlemen,” Yennefer smiled at the group, tight and on the edge of false. “My friend here thinks more with his cock than his brain so I need to know your intentions.”

“Yen,” Jaskier blushed, but he was thankful for her concern. 

“Well,” Geralt blinked. “We were going to go home. The four of us. If he wanted that.”

Yennefer looked at Jaskier for confirmation. 

“I do. I trust them so far.”

With a sigh, Yennefer dug out her cellphone. “You have my number, but I’ll need all of yours. Names and addresses too. Get together, I’m taking a picture of the three of you.”

The three men were quick to comply, cell phones whipping out, Yennefer barking orders. The one named Eskel scooted away from her as soon as he could and took his place next to Jaskier.

“She always this scary?” he asked as Yennefer continued to interrogate Geralt. 

“You should see her on a bad day,” Jaskier joked. “She means well, though.”

Eskel nodded, thought his stance did not relax. “It’s good you have a friend like that. There were a few times we had taken someone home that we really shouldn’t have. We learned our lesson.”

Jaskier was comforted by this, knowing that the men wanted someone enthusiastic and willing. He had felt at ease from the start, but it was always good to be sure. 

“Alright,” Yennefer patted Jaskier on the shoulder. “Be safe, have fun.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Jaskier gave her a quick hug, laughing as she scowled. 

“I am not your mother, god forbid.”

Jaskier did not miss the small smile on her face as she departed and found himself once again surrounded by the three men. 

“Haven’t heard from you yet, Lambert,” Jaskier grinned. “What do you have to say about all this?”

“Not much,” the man crossed his arms. “Standard procedure.”

Jaskier could see Geralt elbow him in the side. It truly was friendship at its finest as Lambert shoved him back.

“Ignore him. He’s an ass,” Geralt explained, now fighting off Lambert’s taunts with one hand. 

“Yet you all can sleep with each other?” Jaskier couldn’t help quip. 

The three men paused then, awkward shrugs shared between them.

“Well, he’s fine in bed,” Eskel started. “But perhaps you should see for yourself.”

Jaskier turned to Eskel, reaching up and tracing his hand down his shoulder. “Then, we should get going, shouldn’t we?”

The three men stood at attention, waiting for Jaskier to lead the way out of the club. There was an almost feral look on their faces and Jaskier could feel his breathing quicken. They followed behind him single file, Jaskier having to hold back a wide grin at the slight hilarity of the situation, prey being stalked by predators.

“My place is close by,” Geralt motioned when they exited out of the club. 

Jaskier was now fine with taking the rear–in more ways than one–teasing the three men with brushing hands, tugging their hair just so. He could see the fire igniting and his anticipation only grew.

When they reached Geralt’s flat, Jaskier was caught in a hug from behind, arms around his waist. He hummed with delight, reaching up and pulling whoever it was into a deep kiss. 

“Hold on, Lambert,” Geralt ended their kiss all too soon. 

Lambert growled at this, but didn’t let go of Jaskier, who had taken to holding onto Lambert’s hands. When Geralt and Eskel appeared in Jaskier’s line of sight, his knees weakened. 

“Our safeword is Red,” Geralt explained as he reached out, letting his hand trace down Jaskier’s face. “We like things rough, but we want you to feel safe.”

“Oh, I do, darling,” Jaskier gave a lazy grin. “But thank you. I don’t mind things rough.”

This was enough for Lambert, who began to nibble on Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier craned his neck to give him more access, gasping as Lambert bit down harder. 

“Lambert, save some for us,” Eskel scowled. 

Despite being tangled in Lambert, Jaskier found himself being led to a bedroom where a large bed sat in the middle. Jaskier was thrown back onto the mattress and Lambert crawled on top of him while Eskel sat behind his head. 

“Geralt likes to watch first,” Eskel explained as he brushed Jaskier’s hair out of the way. 

He then kissed Jaskier from his position, their mouths awkwardly latching together, but somehow working all the same. Lambert had returned his attention to Jaskier’s neck, sucking some more and leaving new bruises. When Jaskier’s kiss with Eskel broke, he looked over Lambert’s shoulder to see Geralt sitting in a chair, watching the group intently. The stare was electric and Jaskier groaned as Lambert and Eskel trailed their hands along his body. 

Jaskier’s shirt was practically torn off of him and he found his hands pinned up above his head by Eskel. Lambert caressed Jaskier’s chest before taking a nipple into his mouth, his hand pinching the other one. Jaskier moaned, arching into the touch and tugged at the grip on his wrists. He wanted to touch everyone, but being held like this was so exciting too. His cock was tight in his trousers and he followed Lambert’s lead rubbing their erections together. 

Lambert gave Jaskier’s nipple a final lick before moving back up and whispering in his ear. “Here’s how it’s going to go. You’ll make Eskel and me come first. Then Geralt before you’ll be allowed to come.”

Jaskier whimpered at this and vigorously nodded his head. Eskel had taken both of Jaskier’s wrists into one hand and let his other explore where Lambert had just been. His clothed erection was dangerously close to Jaskier’s face and Jaskier craned his neck up to mouth at it. 

Eskel groaned, pushing closer to Jaskier as Lambert took Jaskier’s remaining clothes off. Despite being the only one naked, Jaskier opened his legs wide, wanting the men to see everything. There was an appreciative moan from Lambert, who dove between Jaskier’s legs and took Jaskier’s cock into his mouth. 

Jaskier threw his head back in pleasure, his mouth open in a silent scream. He twisted in Eskel’s grip as Lambert slowly took him in all the way and then held Jaskier’s cock in his hot, wet mouth. 

“Oh, sweet mother of–” Jaskier gasped, his hands suddenly free and falling at his sides. 

His hands twisted in the sheets as Lambert moved up, pleasure washing over him and then he felt the bed shift. Eskel was facing him now, perched over his chest and naked, his cock leaking with precum. Jaskier wasted no time in opening his mouth, his hands braced on Eskel’s hips as the man put his cock in Jaskier’s mouth. Eskel was louder than Lambert, letting his pleasure be known as Jaskier sucked his cock. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” Eskel breathed, his thrusts light as if he were afraid to push Jaskier too much. 

Jaskier took Eskel in further, rougher, to let him know he wanted more and to his relief, Eskel complied. Jaskier moaned around the cock in his mouth, a bit of pride surging through him as Eskel shuddered. It seemed Eskel was close but before he came, he held Jaskier down and pulled out. 

“Not yet,” he panted as he moved off of him and Jaskier pouted at the loss. 

That didn’t last long however as Jaskier found his cock being stroked and then a tightness growing at the base. His mouth went slack as Lambert secured a cock ring in place, a devilish grin on his face. 

“Remember, pet, you’re last.”

Jaskier had a feeling there was more to those words and he keened at the thought of the three men having complete control over him. He followed Lambert’s and Eskel’s guiding hands until he was on his hands and knees, pushed forward ever so slightly so his ass was prominently up in the air. Every part of him shook with delight and he watched as Lambert and Eskel switched places, their hands touching, squeezing him the entire time. Lambert’s cock was slightly bigger than Eskel’s, the tip rubbing against Jaskier’s lips as he kneeled in front of him. Jaskier lapped at the head, grinning as Lambert shot him a look and then, teasingly, Jaskier took the cock into his mouth. Lambert’s impatience took over then and he shoved himself in until Jaskier was taking as much as he could, his throat loosening to accommodate the length. Lambert didn’t pull out all the way as he thrusted and it seemed like he was waiting.

Jaskier soon found out the reason why as Eskel spread his cheeks and leaned in, licking at Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier moaned at the sensation, warming Lambert’s cock in his mouth as the man carded his hand through Jaskier’s hair. 

Eskel’s tongue was soon accompanied by a finger, pressing into Jaskier and stretching him open. Jaskier wanted to say more, but with Lambert’s cock in his mouth, he could only wiggle his hips and make lewd noises from his throat to let Eskel know he was enjoying this. 

“Eager thing, isn’t he?” Lambert spoke as he yanked on Jaskier’s hair, making him look up.

“I saw him first, Lambert, don’t forget that,” Geralt growled from his spot. 

Jaskier could only imagine how Geralt looked now, brooding in his chair. Geralt was watching everything Eskel was doing to Jaskier’s hole and Jaskier felt his cock twitch between his legs. Hearing the snap of a lid, Jaskier moaned around Lambert’s cock still in his mouth, his body more than ready for what would be next.

Two lubed fingers began scissoring him, Eskel’s free hand running down Jaskier’s side. 

“You doing okay, Jaskier?” Eskel asked, his voice grounding Jaskier through all of this. 

Jaskier nodded as best he could. They were being surprisingly gentle compared to other orgies Jaskier had been a part of, but when it was this way, he was able to savor every touch. It turned him on even more and he hollowed his cheeks to tease Lambert some more.

“Let’s make him scream, hm?” Lambert growled, pushing Jaskier until his nose was pressed up against dark, wiry hair. 

Jaskier and Lambert moaned together, Lambert caressing Jaskier’s cheek with a thumb before he pulled his cock back, letting Jaskier’s throat rest, the head still in his mouth. Eskel pushed a third finger into Jaskier and he curled his fingers, just brushing against Jaskier’s prostate. 

Jaskier shook, Lambert’s cock dropping from his mouth as he panted, but Lambert was quick to make Jaskier take his cock again, shoving in without much ceremony. As Lambert fucked Jaskier’s mouth, Eskel lubed up his own cock before entering Jaskier, his softness a stark contrast to Lambert’s harsh thrusting. Jaskier closed his eyes as Eskel pushed in, keeping his mouth slack for Lambert’s cock as his body reeled through the different sensations. Once Eskel was all the way in, he waited a moment for Jaskier to adjust before starting with slow thrusts. 

Jaskier was in another place, lust and ecstasy taking over every sense. He loved being used by Lambert, loved Eskel’s concern, and he couldn’t wait for what Geralt had in store for him.

Just as Eskel began to speed up, Lambert reached his orgasm and he pulled out, spilling all over Jaskier’s hair and face. Jaskier closed his eyes, moaning appreciatively as Lambert gave him a passionate kiss before letting him go. 

Eskel’s hands were gripped tight on Jaskier’s hips, slamming into him while Jaskier now had the freedom to make all the noise he wanted. He fell forward onto his forearms, head falling onto the sheets as he braced himself. Jaskier’s own orgasm was close, but with the ring on, he was denied his release. Jaskier sobbed through the dry orgasm that ripped through him, babbling nonsense as Eskel spilled into him. Once all of his seed was in Jaskier, Eskel pulled out and placed a soft kiss at the base of Jaskier’s spine. 

Collapsing onto the bed, Jaskier writhed as his cock stood proud and red, almost to the point of painful. He reached down between his legs to pleasure himself but his hand was soon pulled away as Geralt, now unclothed as everyone else stood next to the bed, satiated, but a hunger still in their eyes. 

“My turn,” Geralt showed his teeth and Jaskier whimpered, reaching out for him. 

Jaskier gripped tight onto Geralt’s shoulders as the man pushed into him, his hole taking Geralt’s larger cock with ease. He could feel Eskel’s seed spill out of him and this alone brought Jaskier’s cock back to attention.

“Eskel, you getting in on this?” Lambert asked and there was a distant, “No, I just want to watch now.”

Jaskier didn’t know what was going to happen next but then Geralt froze mid-thrust. Eyes snapping open, Jaskier could just make out Lambert’s frame behind Geralt, his hands–Jaskier assumed–spreading Geralt’s cheeks apart.

“Oh,” Jaskier blinked before giving Geralt a grin. 

“If you want to be in Lambert’s spot next time,” Geralt shrugged before ducking his head as Lambert stretched him open. 

Next time. Jaskier’s heart flew knowing that at the very least, Geralt wanted to see him again. Jaskier gave Geralt a smile, not able to do much else in his exhausted state and earned a kiss in return. Their tongues tangled together as they moaned into each other’s mouths before a stuttered breath left Geralt. 

Lambert then thrust his hips forward, causing Geralt to press even further into Jaskier. Groans filled the room, sending Jaskier into yet another dizzying state. He sighed heavily, wanting nothing more than to come as Geralt thrust into him in time with Lambert. Their pace soon picked up and it wasn’t long before Geralt came into Jaskier with a rough moan. Lambert followed a few thrusts after, the two men braced over Jaskier, who was about to cry with need. Here he was, denied his release and Lambert had just orgasmed for the second time. 

“Please,” he begged, his body falling limp. “Please let me come.”

“Of course, love,” Geralt whispered, placing a kiss on Jaskier’s cheek before pulling out of him. 

Jaskier groaned, his hole unable to clench as seed kept spilling out of him. Geralt’s fingers were quick to replace his cock and he took Jaskier’s length into his mouth, taking him all the way to the ring. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier cried, his hands flying to Geralt’s hair. 

He didn’t care how hard he was pulling and it seemed to spur Geralt on faster, rougher. Geralt thrust his fingers with his bobbing head and Jaskier found himself on the edge once again. 

“Geralt, I’m going to–”

With that, Geralt took the ring off before returning his mouth to Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier came with a shout, his orgasm shaking his entire body as Geralt kept pleasuring him until every last drop was milked out. 

Jaskier lay on the bed, dazed, and unwilling to move, only brought out of it as Geralt picked him up and took him into a bathroom just off the bedroom itself. There was a bath with hot water, Lambert and Eskel sitting off to the side with towels wrapped around their waists. It seemed they had already washed and Geralt helped Jaskier into the shower, rinsing the both of them off and helping Jaskier stand. 

“That was amazing,” Jaskier sighed, as the water ran down his body. “What else have you three got up your sleeves?”

Geralt smirked, capturing Jaskier’s lips in a soft kiss. “Well, I did mean what I said. I know Lambert and Eskel would like their own time with you too.”

“Mm, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” Jaskier smiled. 

Once the shower was finished, Geralt brought them to the tub, setting in Jaskier first. Lambert and Eskel were quick to sit on the tub’s edge as Geralt then got in, settling himself between Jaskier’s legs, his back flush against Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier wrapped an arm around Geralt’s shoulders, his free hand reaching for the other men. Lambert and Eskel each took a claim to Jaskier, kissing the skin they could while running their hands along it. 

“Tell me about yourselves. I’m about to fall asleep and I don’t want to miss out on a moment with the three of you,” Jaskier grinned. 

He could feel a rumble from Geralt and felt a sense of pride on making the man laugh. 

“Best start with Eskel,” Lambert volunteered his friend, who glared at him. “He’s the emotional one.”

“At least I have them,” Eskel bit back before turning to Jaskier. “The three of us grew up together and after all these years I still put up with Lambert’s shit.”

“Admirable, really,” Jaskier teased, kissing Lambert’s knuckles when he frowned. 

Geralt sighed and shifted so he was sitting at the other end of the tub and could face all three. “I think it’s somehow worse than having actual brothers.”

“Oh, as if you can say anything, Geralt I-Hide-Everything Rivia,” Eskel retorted and Lambert let out a bark of a laugh. 

The three men began to bicker then, but Jaskier knew there was no malice behind it. It was entertaining, to say the least, and he hid his laughter as best he could as the three seemed to forget they were in the presence of someone else. 

Finally, the three stopped, each giving their apology to Jaskier. 

“It’s fine,” Jaskier waved. “It’s not turning me away, I assure you.”

All three men appeared to light up at this and Jaskier felt very much in the spotlight. He could help but want to goad this on, see what these men were made of. 

“In fact, gentlemen, I want to know just how wild you can get,” Jaskier teased.

Met with three smirks, Jaskier could feel his mind race with excitement. He was in for one hell of a ride.

[haberdashing]

and if that was me, then who am i?

Stranger Martin AU. A young Martin runs away to the Circus.

on AO3

Martin Blackwood was nine years old, and his mother’s health was getting worse by the day, and his father was gone never to return, and his world was crumbling around him. Things he’d taken for granted, responsibilities that he’d figured the adults around him would attend to for him for years to come if not for the rest of his life, were suddenly falling on his shoulders, left undone if he didn’t step up to the plate. He wasn’t working, as it wasn’t exactly an option at his age, but he did just about everything else he could to keep the house up and running. Even then, it seemed like it was never enough, like the perpetual frown on his mother’s face grew deeper by the day.

For all he did, though, Martin was still nine years old, still just a child, still prone to youthful flights of fancy. Perhaps it was little surprise that he spent every minute he wasn’t busy with schoolwork or housework with his nose stuck in a book, desperately longing to escape his reality by delving into another, at least for a little while.

Martin knew well enough, when news got around that a circus was coming to town, that he wouldn’t be able to go. There was too much to do at home, too little money to spare for such luxuries. He still asked his mother, though, despite knowing her answer before he voiced the question. He did want to go, after all, did want to enjoy himself in an evening of pure escapism, and this way it was her word forbidding it, not just simple logic that he could try to weasel his way out of. And it burned, knowing that all the other children would doubtlessly be talking nonstop for weeks about something he would never see, would never be a part of.

As the circus’ performance neared, Martin yearned to find some way to attend the circus, despite all logic, despite his mother’s refusal, despite everything... and something occurred to him.

He’d read more than one story involving children who, when stuck in a living situation they couldn’t tolerate anymore, ran off to join the circus. And technically, his mother had told him not to attend the circus, not to not join it.

It wasn’t fair to his mother, of course, but she seemed unhappy enough regardless, and Martin could swear just the sight of his face made her frown all the greater for some reason, so maybe she’d be better off without him. And then he could start a new life with the circus, one less mundane and brutal than the one he had to face on a daily basis. A win-win situation.

Three days before the circus was set to open, Martin grabbed a handful of his dearest belongings, shoved them into a bag, and sneaked into the circus grounds with them in hand, a mix of anxiety and sheer desperation pushing him onward, fueling every step he took deeper into the heart of the circus.

Opening a random door exposed Martin unexpectedly to a view of the stage, albeit a skewed one, far from the sort of angle an audience would normally get. Even though the circus wasn’t open for business yet, a performance of some sort--a rehearsal, perhaps?--was going on just the same, and Martin was lucky enough to be its only audience member.

Colors and lights and music and movement intermingled until it was hard to say where one part of the action ended and another began. It was a dizzying, dazzling, overwhelming performance, and it was impossible and it was illogical and it was beautiful, and as Martin looked on he knew that he’d made the right move, that somewhere this wonderful must be where he was meant to be.

Martin let out a soft gasp at one point that caught him especially off-guard--something to do with knives, or a tightrope, or maybe both, it all blended together into one strange jumbled blur in his brain--and seconds after, a cold hand pressed against his shoulder.

“Here for a sneak preview?”

Martin turned around. The outlandish and blindingly colorful outfit of the man in front of him marked him as a member of the circus troupe, though Martin couldn’t remember if he’d seen the man before, either when making his way through the circus or when watching the stage.

Did... did he think Martin was just there to get out of paying? Or out of impatience, too eager to see a performance that was just days away anyhow? Because that wasn’t right at all, and he didn’t want that to be the first impression any of the circus members got of him.

“No, no, not like that--I mean, I watched some, I guess, and it was great and all, but--I came here because I want to join you.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You want to join the Circus?”

Martin nodded, desperately, trying to ignore how his hands were shaking, how his vision was blurring with half-stifled tears, how what this strange man decided in the next minute or two might change the course of Martin’s life forever. “I do. I want to be a part of- of all of this. I did before I saw it in action, but even more now. It’s- it’s wonderful, and I want to help make it happen again.”

“Hmm.” The man tapped his fingers against the nearby wall, and Martin flinched a little as the man’s arm drew awkwardly close to him in the process. “That’s a new one.”

Martin hadn’t thought it would be a “new one.” This happened all the time in stories, didn’t it? Were the stories all lies, then?

“Tell you what, how about we go see Nikola.” The words suggested that there was a question involved, that Martin was being given a choice, but between the circus member’s flat tone of voice and the way his fingers curled around Martin’s wrist, Martin was left very sure that he was going to see this Nikola whether he wanted to or not. “Rehearsal’s wrapping up, so she should be free soon, and if anyone’s going to decide if you can stay with us it’s her.”

“A-alright. Sure.” Maybe the choice being offered was a false one, but Martin wanted to make it clear that he was willing to go along with it all, that he wasn’t going to put up a fuss or disobey at the first sign of trouble.

The walk between where Martin had been spying on the stage and where Nikola stood in front of a crowd of circus performers wasn’t long, but it was dizzying just the same. It wasn’t quite like the performance, but just walking through the circus was enough to fill Martin’s head with colors and lights and sounds the likes of which he had never imagined, let alone experienced, before that night.

Martin wasn’t sure whether he’d know which of the people around him were “Nikola” at first, but he figured it out pretty fast. Most of the circus performers seemed normal enough, at least by circus performer standards; sure, they were all strangers, and something about those surrounding him gave Martin a pit in his stomach, but they could easily have been pulled out of one of the storybooks Martin enjoyed so much, the sort of stock characters one would expect to see around a circus. Nikola, on the other hand... well.

She wasn’t actually a mannequin, was she?

No, of course not, that didn’t make sense. Living mannequins were only a thing in stories, and Martin had already learned that stories couldn’t be trusted as guides to reality that easily. It had to be some sort of elaborate make-up that made her look more doll than human. Though why Nikola then had clown make-up over the mannequin make-up was a little confusing... it seemed like one or the other would make more sense than combining the two... but it wasn’t his call to make, of course.

Besides, Martin had already gathered that making sense wasn’t the be-all and end-all here, and that was part of the attraction. Staying home and caring for his ill mother would make sense, but that wasn’t the life Martin wanted to live. The circus promised him so much more.

“Nikola?”

Without warning, the man that had led Martin to Nikola gripped Martin’s wrist hard and used it to hold him up.

“Hey!” Martin did his best to wriggle his way out of the circus member’s grip, but to no avail.

“I found this boy intruding on our property, watching the rehearsal. He says he wants to join the Circus.”

“Oh? How fascinating!” Nikola’s voice was high and energetic, and the bright red lips drawn onto her face didn’t move when she spoke. “Come here, boy.”

The grip on Martin’s wrist loosened as abruptly as it had tightened, and Martin half-walked half-stumbled over to Nikola, shaking out his hand to try and reduce the ache lingering in his wrist from where he’d been held.

“Let me get a closer look...” Nikola’s hand shot out and cupped Martin’s chin, tilting his face so that it was staring up at hers, and her hand felt cold and plastic and lifeless and the feeling of it pressed against his chin made the hairs on Martin’s back stand up straight.

“Do you have any special talents, boy?”

“Um... not really, honestly, but-” Martin could feel his face growing hot. “But I’m a quick learner, and I can do a lot when I put my mind to it, so I’m sure I can help you out somehow!”

“Oh, that’s fine, I’m sure we can find a place for you somewhere.” Nikola withdrew her hand, though Martin still looked up at her, hoping to see some sign in her facial expression that’d give away whether she’d allow him to stay. (No such luck, unfortunately, as her face was utterly still, acting less like make-up over a regular face and more like paint atop a doll.) “I’m Nikola, by the way. I run the Circus these days.”

Martin considered saying that he’d already gathered as much, but decided to stay silent instead.

“And who might you be?”

“I’m...”

Martin hesitated, considering his options. If he just gave his real name out, would they report him to the authorities, send him back to his mother? Even if they didn’t, he was hoping to start a new life here, and did he really want that life to be tied to the same name as his old one? If he was going to reinvent himself, why not go all the way?

If he wasn’t Martin, though, who was he?

Martin’s mind wandered back to all the books he’d read over the years, remembered an old, beaten-up library book about mythology that he’d come back to time and time again, and settled on an answer.

“...Loki. I’m Loki.”

“Wonderful, wonderful! It is a pleasure to meet you, dear Loki!”

He’d realized that he was being tested, before, but hadn’t realized that being asked for his name was part of the test until looking around and seeing the broad smiles on the faces of all the circus performers.

When was the last time he’d seen a sea of smiles like that?

When was the last time he’d seen even a single smile like that, wide and genuine and mirthful?

“I think you’ll fit in just fine here, Loki. Welcome to the Circus!”

Nikola extended her hand, and he took it, and her hand was cold and inhuman but he was surrounded by smiling faces and unnatural beauty and if a cold handshake was the price he had to pay to fit in here, that was a price well worth paying.

Loki looked out at the crowd and gave a smile of his own, weak but passionate.

He’d found a place in the world, now, and he was never looking back.

[meetmeinthematinee]

Unbound -- Chapter 3

Catch up! Chapters 1 & 2 

Demon!John Wick

Warnings: SMUT, consensual choking & demonic threats of violence against a woman.

Note: anything in italics is the demon.  

The skill was all his. His impeccable aim, the ability to sink the knife in exactly when and where he needed to. His will to get up and keep going no matter how hard the take down or how bad the injury. The voice demanded blood and sacrifice and he was compelled to deliver. Unflinchingly. The Ruska Roma hadn’t seen a killer of his caliber in decades. Everyone knew he was talented, even from a young age but no one could have predicted what he’d become. Who he’d become. The quiet and studious boy that was Jardani Jovanovich became John Wick. The Baba Yaga. He bristled at that name when Viggo first called him that. It didn’t take long for it to catch on, for it to be heard and whispered on the streets of New York, Paris, St. Petersburg, Hong Kong. The black stain of death spreading out from underneath his hands wherever he was sent. 

The voice remained a mostly soft, seductive whisper in his ear---as long as he killed. The coins he acquired afforded him the luxury of doing what he wanted. When he wanted. As long as the blood flowed, the demon remained sated. Too long between kills? The whispers turned into growls. Those growls went unheeded? Deep scratches in multiples of three would appear. All over his body. It became a game to him. How long could he go without killing? How much damage would the demon inflict until he caved to it’s will and took another contract to end the unrelenting physical and mental torment? The longest he’d managed was three weeks. By the end of that time he’d felt his grip on reality slipping away. The physical pain he could manage, the scratches would scar over but the constant screaming and wailing and demand to kill any living being that crossed his path became too much. He was scared of losing control entirely and killing someone innocent. If you were in his world, you weren’t innocent. You’d done horrible, dark things. The demon didn’t make any distinctions. It cared for blood and death -- whose it was didn’t matter. But it mattered to him.  

John tried everything to distract himself -- to keep himself sane as the demon stepped up its efforts to control him. Drinking helped to numb the physical pain temporarily but did nothing to quiet the screeching in his head. He’d go to the Limelight or the Tunnel and find himself lost in the crush of bodies and the lights and the loud, driving thump of the bass. He’d find someone to go home with. Someone to focus all his attention on. The feel of their warm body under his, their touch and movements grounded him -- that brief connection and sometimes even tenderness was enough to remind him of his humanity. 

He’d been standing by the bar watching the movements of the crowd when he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Excuse me, I’d like a drink.” She yelled into his ear over the music. He smiled at her. “That’s bold of you.” He said with a shake of his head. She laughed and her eyes lit up. She put her hand firmly on his chest and leaned in to his ear. “I meant I’d like to order a drink, you’re blocking the bar.” “Oh.” He said, as a flush crept across his cheeks. He stepped to the side to give her space at the bar. With her drink in her hand she turned back to John. “You wanna dance?” She asked rolling her hips from side to side in time with the beat. He smiled and hooked his fingers around the neck of his beer. “Yeah.” She didn’t give him time to say anything else before she led him through the crowd. Her fingers entwined with his. He felt a familiar and welcome warmth spread through him as they danced. Their bodies pressed together like pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want another drink?” He asked. She looked down at her empty glass and back at him. He could see her considering her options. She crooked her finger at him and he brought his ear closer to her mouth. “I have drinks at my place, if you want to join me?” He grinned and led her off the crowded dance floor. 

She lived in a 3rd floor walk up. Coincidentally, not too far from the Continental. She unlocked and opened the door and held it open for him to step through. Her place was nicely furnished. John could tell she did quite well for herself -- whatever it was that she did. “Do you want that drink, uh…?” She nervously bit her lower lip. He smirked and looked down at the floor. “John. And yeah, a drink would be nice.” He looked back at her expectantly. “Shelly.” “Shelly.” He said quietly. “Is bourbon ok John?” She asked as she took out two rocks glasses from a cupboard. “I like bourbon.” He said as she poured two generous glasses. She stood in front of him and passed him the glass. “Thanks.” He said, tipping it at her before taking a drink. She grinned at him and slid her free hand around his waist. He pulled her in for a heated kiss. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck. She hummed against his mouth and tightened her grip on his lower back. Her fingers sank below his belt, the material gathered between her fingers as she pulled it up and out of his pants. He turned and pinned her between himself and the kitchen island. She gasped as his lips caressed the curve of her neck and moved upward. John kissed and nipped his way up her neck as she slid her hands up and underneath his shirt. His lips found hers again and she slid her tongue against his. Both of them were out of breath when they pulled away from each other. She finished her drink and John did the same. She pulled him towards her bedroom as soon as he set down his glass. 

Her bedroom was dusty rose and floral with touches of chrome and mirror. The bed piled high with ruffled pillows. He kissed her and walked backwards until her knees hit the edge of the bed. She fell down with a giggle and hoisted herself onto an elbow before grabbing on to John’s belt and using it for leverage to right herself. His smile turned into an open mouthed moan as her nimble fingers undid his belt and fly. She pulled him out of his pants as he held the side of her face and his thumb caressed her cheekbone. “Fuck.” He said softly as she wrapped her soft, plump lips around him and took him as deeply as she could. She moaned in delight at his appreciative sounds. She was good. Really good. He gripped her face tighter until he felt himself almost lose control and he backed away from her. She looked up at him and wiped her mouth. “You’re so beautiful like this.” He breathed out as she shifted on the bed. “Was that ok?” He let out the breath he was holding. “It was amazing. I just want to make sure I take care of you too.” She cocked her head to the side and grinned at him. She stood up and turned her back to him and shimmied her shoulders. “Lil’ help, then?” She asked. He slowly unzipped her dress. Peeling the black lace away from her as he kissed her now bare shoulder. She freed herself from the dress and let it drop to the floor. John slid his large, warm hands over her exposed skin. She turned and smiled widely as she pushed his pants over his hips as he took off his shirt. Everything winding up in a jumbled pile on the floor. 

He pushed her back down on the bed and knelt in front of her. He nudged her legs apart with his body and trailed his fingers slowly up her inner thighs before his mouth followed. She groaned appreciatively as his tongue licked up the length of her. Her fingers tangled into his dark hair as she began to unravel underneath him. Her breaths coming in short gasps as she writhed against his face. “You taste so good. Fuck. So sweet.” He breathed against her cunt. “Don’t stop!” “I don’t plan on it.” He said with a smirk as he wrapped his mouth around her clit. Working it with his tongue as he slid two fingers easily inside her. He held her hips down with one arm as she rode out her orgasm, clenching around his fingers and grinding up against his mouth. Kill her. No one would know. The voice growled in his ear. He pushed the thought away and focused on how she felt under his hands. How she trembled through her aftershocks and smiled with dazed looking eyes. He got up off his knees and flopped down beside her. Catching her lips in a heated kiss. Their tongues sliding against each other as she pulled him on top of her. See how easy? You could smother her. The voice cooed again. John faltered for a moment. Trying desperately to ground himself. Shelly didn’t seem to notice his change in mood as she licked and sucked at his neck and rocked herself against him. She reached between them and stroked him. “Condom?” She asked. He shot her a lopsided grin and nodded. “Yeah.” 

She rolled it onto him and he positioned himself at her entrance. They both moaned as he pressed into her. Not moving his hips until he felt her start to move against him. He used an arm to support himself and cupped her breast with the other. Lowering his head to capture her nipple between his teeth. He wouldn’t last much longer. He could feel himself getting closer and closer with each clench around his cock. She grabbed his hand and placed it over her throat. He looked at her half lidded eyes with surprise in his. “It’s ok. I like it.” She moaned. He wrapped his fingers around the delicate skin of her throat and added a bit of pressure. Look at her! She wants you to! Just kill her. Choke her to death. John could have sworn he felt his fingers tighten without his doing. She moaned appreciatively underneath him completely unaware that anything was going on and he quickly brought his hand away from her neck and shoved it between them. Working his thumb in circles over her clit as she screamed. He snapped his hips against hers a few more times before coming and settling his head against her shoulder, breathing heavily as the demon screamed in his head. As soon as their breathing evened out and returned to normal she sat up. “Hey, I don’t mean to be rude but I have an early day---” John held up his hand. “That’s ok. This was great, you were great---but I should go.” “You’re sure it’s?” “Yeah, it’s fine.” He kissed her on the cheek and then dressed quickly as she pulled on a robe.

He ran down the stairs and out of the building. John wanted to put as much distance between her and him as humanly possible. He knew the price of his standoff with the demon inside him would be an innocent life -- if he held out for much longer. “God fucking damn it!” He whispered harshly as he steadied himself on the brick facade of a building. “God damn them ALL!” No, Jardani -- it’s you. You’re damned. The ghoulish whisper echoed through his mind. He took a deep breath and straightened up. At that moment his pager went off. He knew the code. It was a contract. He made his way to the nearest payphone and called in to the switchboard. “Hello, it’s John Wick---yes---have the details sent to my room please.” There was no point in fighting it anymore. Not at the expense of someone who didn’t deserve to be at the end of his gun. Or knife. Or hands.

Taglist:

@inlovewithliferuiners​ @nnneith​ @xo-dragonette-xo​ @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

@fanficsrusz​ @baphometwolf666​ @sgt-morgan​ @glamorizedtrainwreck​ @mikaneonox​ @paanchu786​

@ficsnroses​ @keanuwwu​ @kathorax​ @beyond-antares​ @themanthemyth-thelegend​ @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day​ @jardani-jovonovich-bitch​ @21stcenturyyfoxx​

[killjoy-loveit]

Reality is Twofold- Pt. 4

A/N: I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality. Honestly… I love this request! It really pulled me in and was like ‘this is how you’re going to write it!’ This is the fourth part, you can find the link to the first three parts (as well as my masterlist links) in the notes. This is the final part!

Request: Yes, hello. I’m coming on anon for this request merely because I’m too shy, but I’d like to request a one shot or scenario - whichever you prefer, please :’) Female reader, any POV that you prefer, with Winner’s Mino, and for the trope - angst/smut, annnnnnnnd a mafia au if you’re okay with that, please and thank you. I’m so sorry if this is a lot; I don’t ever request fics, but I love your writing too much uwu

Word Count: 2,489

Genre: Angst, Mafia AU

*****WARNINGS: Blood, Mentions of Death, Violence (?), Gore (?)*****

     Clothes strewn over the floor joined by numerous belongings, furniture slightly askew from panicked movement. My apartment looks like someone raided it, just leaving things knocked over and slightly damaged in their wake. However this wasn’t caused by another person, rather it’s a mess I’ve created in my panic. A frenzy that couldn’t be contained, not that I even bothered to try. If anyone else had just been through that there’s no way they could manage to calm themselves down. No, a jumbled brain operating with frayed wires would be natural after witnessing that.

     Blood still covered my shirt and, despite having washed my hands until they turned red, it even remained under my nails. It’s been hours since Juwon died in my arms yet it only feels like minutes. Like it was a terrible nightmare, something I might wake up from and everything would be okay. But at the back of my mind I know it’s real. He’s dead and there’s nothing I can do about it. My only option is to run. Run and hope that they won’t look for me. It’s unlikely they’ll let me go without a fight, anyone who knows anything about the family and isn’t with them is considered a threat. Even if I’ve spent my entire life doing everything in my power for them, it wouldn’t matter once I left- I’d only be a target. 

     A harsh knock sounded at my front door. Eyes wide, I lurched forward scrambling to hide my duffel bag before answering the door. It ended up haphazardly shoved in the small linen closet by the living room. I was slightly breathless when I answered the door, hair frazzled and puffy eyes showing the state of disarray I was in. Out of all the people I expected to show up, it wasn’t him. But I couldn’t help but feel my guard crumble a bit just seeing the expression on his face. A mix of sympathy and worry.

     “Mino… What-.” I tried to whisper but my voice broke before I even finished my question. 

     He stepped forward and pulled me into his arms, his voice soft when he spoke. “I heard about your brother and I got worried.” He pulled back slightly, cradling my face in his hands while looking into my eyes. “I needed to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

     Fresh tears stung my eyes. “Not physically.”

     Mino released me, fully stepping into my apartment to shut the door. As he turned back around his eyes widened upon seeing the state of wreckage that’s currently my apartment. “What happened? It looks like a tornado swept through here.”

     “N-Nothing happened. I just… I’m really upset.” I murmur quietly avoiding his gaze.

     “Okay, well I’m not leaving any time soon,” He replies. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be on your own right now.”

     “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me anymore.” I stepped away from him slightly, anxiously looking at him.

     Mino sighs and steps closer to me, his hand reaching out to tip my chin up so that I look at him properly. “Just because I’m upset with you doesn’t mean I stop caring about you. I hate that you’re in pain, that you’re hurting, and I especially hate that there’s not much I can do about it. Something I can do though, is to keep you company. By not letting you cry and wallow on your own.”

     The last strings that were holding me back from fully breaking down snapped. Next thing I know his arms are wrapped around me while my face is buried in his shirt, tears soaking the fabric. Gentle words spoken softly into my hair, hands drawing circles on my back. I don’t know how long it took for him to fully calm me down, only that it was longer than it seemed. And when I finally pulled away from his embrace the need to forget overwhelmed any other emotion. Just something, anything that would make me forget what I’d witnessed. This urge is what led me to kiss him. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, delving into a physical encounter could erase the memory for a while.

     Except I was stopped. Mino pulled back from me, his eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing?”

     “I want to forget,” My hands clutch at his shirt, trying to bring him closer. “Please, please help me forget. Just for a little while.”

     He sighs. “It won’t help. I’m not going to sleep with you when you’re like this,” His voice was filled with an unwavering determination. “I won’t take advantage of you when you’re in such a vulnerable state. I’ll help you through it, but not like that. The next time I sleep with you, it’s going to be when your mind is clear and I know that it’s something you truly want. Not something that just happens spur of the moment when you’re caught up in the adrenaline rush or when you’re trying to forget something.”

     “But-.” 

     Mino cuts me off. “No, what you need right now is rest. I’m going to make you some tea, then you’re going to climb into bed and go to sleep. Alright?”

     I hesitate until I see the look in his eyes that’s daring me to disagree. “Alright.”

     “What is this?” Mino’s voice rumbled lightly.

     Sitting up, I blink at him wearily, brain foggy from waking up suddenly. Confusion filtered across my facet. “What is what?”

     He tosses something onto my bed. “This.” 

     I rub my eyes before turning my focus onto the thing he tossed onto my bed. My mouth parted in shock as I saw my duffel bag filled with clothes and essentials. Although it’s pretty obvious what it’s for, the need to deny it was at the forefront of my mind. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” 

     Mino looks at me suspiciously, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Really? So if I were to unpack everything that’s in here you wouldn’t be upset?” He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath. “What were you thinking? If someone else had come and found this you’d be in danger. How could you put yourself in that situation?”

     The tone of his voice made my lower lip quiver and my eyes begin to tear up. Upon seeing the genuine concern in his face under the mask of anger and frustration, I felt my already damaged walls start to crumble. “I…” Mino reached out and gently grasped my hands. “I can’t do it anymore.” Sobs wracked my body. “It- it’s too much! All the people I’ve watched die because of this stupid way of life. I can’t watch someone else I love die, I just can’t.” My voice cracked on the last sentence and I averted my gaze from him. 

     “Hey, shh,” He soothed, moving to pull me into his arms. His hand smoothed down my back continually as I cried into his chest. “It’s okay.”

     These walls I had up were never meant to bear this much pressure, having them collapse was inevitable. Though I don’t think they could have fallen in the presence of a better person. He held me until I calmed down, the tears and hiccups silenced. Despite the panic simmering deep within my being, he has such a calming effect. 

     “Are you going to stop me?” I ask softly, hands clenching the back of his shirt.

     “No,” Mino replied in the same manner. “But I’m not letting you go alone, I’m coming with you.”

     I pull my head off his chest to look at him. “Why?”

     He didn’t speak for a few minutes. “Did you know I’ve been in love with you for years? You’ve always been so tough, like nothing could ever bother you or get past your shell. But even the toughest person has their vulnerabilities, those moments where they aren’t as strong, and they need someone to lean on. I want to be that person for you.” Sincerity shone in his eyes. “And I know I can be, if you’d only let me.”

     I’m tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of holding myself back from people. Tired of pretending not to care when that’s all I ever seem to do. Tired of letting fear rule my life. And so I said something that I never would have imagined myself saying. Although, I didn’t say it loudly, it was quiet, hushed. “I’ll let you be that person.”

     Yet somehow he heard me. “Thank you.”

     At the time I didn’t know what I was agreeing to, but after a few days to calm down and look back on what I had planned, it was clear I hadn’t been about to make the best decision. I would’ve acted rashly and gotten myself caught in days, if not hours. I would have ended up dead. Letting Mino become the person I could rely on, the person I could be true and honest with, was the right call. He even came up with a plan. It was one that would take time, a long haul of sorts. However, I knew it would be worth it, no matter how long it took.

     Step 1: Convince everyone we were dating seriously, so that the logical conclusion would be for us to move in together. Of all the parts of the plan, this was one of the longest. For months the two of us had to be seen together almost constantly, glued to each others sides in a sense. It was difficult though, after the boss, Mino’s father, found out that we were seeing each other, he tried to put a stop to it. Claiming that he was in the process of setting up an arranged marriage for him, one that would be good for the family. 

     Upon hearing this Mino became infuriated, yelling and threatening his father, all while I sat quietly in a chair, staring at the ground. When I was asked how I felt about hearing that, my thoughts turned to how everything would be meaningless and that I’d never make it out. My answer was only truth, albeit not the entire truth. “My life would be ruined without him.” And it would be, if I’m being completely honest. I haven’t been in the right mindset after Juwon died. I mean, how could I be? My younger brother died in my arms, all because I didn’t get us out of there in time. It was my fault.

     Step 2: Move in together. While it might seem that this would be a big step, it was relatively simple if you factor in the difficulty of the remaining steps. A small house on the outskirts of the city was obtained, it was quaint and adorable. It actually felt like it could have been home, a perfect one at that. If only it didn’t have to hold such a dreadful future. I almost felt bad for the poor house. Almost.

     Step 3: Acquire fake IDs, passports, and birth certificates. Again, this was another particularly simple task, seeing as we both had some shady contacts. Though some extra finagling had to be done in order to work with someone who had no idea who we were. If we worked with someone we knew through the family, it would be easy for them to figure out what we did if they talked. And getting caught isn’t part of the plan. 

     Steps 4 & 5: Slowly liquidate our assets and purchase explosives. Now, the explosives probably seem pretty questionable. However, these are a vital part of our plan. Well, maybe I should say his plan, because it is his plan. Despite it being my idea, or rather, need, to leave, I didn’t exactly help with the planning process. Except financially, since that’s my area of expertise. Back to step 5, the explosives were meant for our house. Yes, the small quaint home we moved into would be blown up at the end of our plan.

     Step 6: Wait for the perfect cadavers. This is probably the worst step, as well as the longest. Since neither him nor I wanted to have anymore blood on our hands, we had to wait until bodies that would match our basic descriptors showed up. It was difficult to say the least, since we were completely on our own for this one. On multiple occasions I had to pass myself off as a student from a University that had a body farm, asking after those who’ve died and donated their bodies to science. Once my false identity was accepted, I was informed by a coroner about two hours away- her name was Lucille- that if anyone came up with the specifics I’d listed, she’d call to let me know.

     Months. We waited for months. And at the most unexpected time, Lucille called. Two people found dead, due to a poisoning, matching our descriptors. Meaning the last step would be put into action tonight. While Mino went out to collect them, I would stay behind and set everything up. 

     Explosives were set up in every room of the house. Our bags were packed, stuffed with essentials and meaningful mementos. It was set up to look like we’d been targeted as a hit. Surely there would be fallout due to our chosen method, but every other method had more faults. Faults that could lead to us, which was something that couldn’t happen. This was the culmination of everything we’d been preparing for. The final step. The end to it all.

     Two hundred feet away our house was on fire. The flames a dark orange, reaching out towards the night sky. Smoke billowed out of the broken windows, the house creaking in a plea for aid- something it would not receive soon enough to be saved. Most people would be in despair upon seeing their home ablaze, though I guess by now it’s obvious I’m not like most people. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. An enormous weight lifted from my shoulders, and the autonomy that came along was astounding. 

     “Come on,” Mino tugged at my hand, bringing my attention to him. “Let’s go before the first responders get here.”

     I blinked at him, a smile slowly working itself on my face. Fire danced in my eyes as I glanced back at the house. “Most things fire touches, it destroys. But for me,” I whisper softly, gaze focused on the tendrils of the flames twisting in the air. “It has brought freedom.”

     Most lives only have one part. Not everyone realizes they can change their paths. To some it seems predetermined, as if they have no choice. We all have a choice. Reality has more than one side, it is twofold. Actually no, it’s boundless in the sides it holds. Fear, that which tends to hold us back, can only be overcome once it’s realized that fear itself is the enemy. There is no freedom where there is no choice.

[fawninhawkins]

self-defense ~ shawn mendes

idea: you were walking home and noticed someone following you, werewolf!shawn teaches you self-defense 

a/n + warnings: i wrote this for my boo @begginyouformendes birthday <33, language, fighting

3264 words

Your pulse raced in your veins as you kept up the steady pace. You were certain you were being pursued. Though you hadn’t seen anyone head on, you kept noticing shadows in your periphery that suddenly disappeared if you ventured to gaze at them.

You’ll be fine Y/N. The house is only two more blocks, and the entire pack is there. You kept trying to calm yourself, but with each faint footstep you became more unsure. Why did you have to be human? Why did you have to be one of the weak ones in the pack?

“Fuck,” You gasped as you fished through your bag, praying your fingers would close around your pepper spray. You increased your speed when you realized the sound of boots slapping on the pavement was suddenly far less masked. Turning around, you finally saw your stalker. He wore a black hoodie pulled over his eyes and grey joggers and even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he could tell you were afraid.

“Back off, dude. I have a weapon.” Your voice quivered as you realized you were quickly running out of options and the only viable ones left were to engage him and hope he left or to run. The vomit-inducing grin that spread his lips told you the former was no longer an option. So you ran.

Your heartbeat pounding in your ears dulled your sense of sound, muffling the mans heavy steps behind you and giving you less of a sense of his proximity. In the back of your mind you noted a sadistic chuckle, he was the predator and you were prey.

“Nowhere to run,” The words were accentuated by grunts. He truly believed he had you cornered. What he didn’t know was that you were headed straight for a fence that had a missing link that led to your pack’s neighborhood.

“Fuck you.” You growled in response. Adrenaline overtook your fear for a moment as you turned to see him following at your heels, you shot through the fence and felt yourself calming as soon as you saw your home.

“Shit.” You heard him curse dejectedly as you joined the safety of your cul-de-sac. One person was walking a dog and you felt relieved to see Teddy in the yard sitting on the front stoop nursing a beer. When you turned around again the man was gone, deterred by the suburban setting and people milling about.

“Teddy,” You called out to her, out of breath. You didn’t bother to slow down, adrenaline still coursing hot through your veins. Once you reached the yard Teddy was up and running towards you. You collided and Teddy held you at arms distance, inspecting you.

“Y/N. What the fuck are you alright? You reek of fear.” Teddy’s voice and facial expression were barren of the usual sarcasm and nonchalance that resided there. Her blueish-gray eyes also went gold as she inspected you.

“No. There was a man following me, he-he chased me here. I only lost him at the fence because he saw people.” You were breathless and panting. Teddy looked you up and down skeptically and you felt the need to add, “Don’t tell Shawn please, at least not yet.”

“I mean he is your mate after all, and the alpha. If anyone can help you and protect you it’s him.” Teddy’s words were rehearsed, the words of a loyal member of the pack. They always deferred to Shawn’s judgement.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it. Can we just get in the house? I’m really uncomfortable.” You admitted. It was alarming to Teddy that you seemed so shaken, you were very much an “alpha’s mate”. You were tough and fierce and kind and caring, but you weren’t often so afraid that you shook.

Teddy nodded and stepped aside, keeping a hand on the small of your back, “Yeah of course. Go ahead.” You avoided her eyes and clambered up the steps and through the door, only feeling the air really reach your lungs once you crossed the threshold.

You discreetly thanked a still concerned Teddy and departed to your shared room with Shawn upstairs, praying that he wouldn’t be anywhere along your way. Your prayers didn’t fall on deaf ears as you finally shed her clothes, they felt contaminated. You needed to shower to shake the feeling that man gave you.

~

The steam filled the ensuite bathroom as you pushed open the glass door of the shower. You hadn’t rid yourself completely of the discomfort the stranger imparted on you, but much of it had dissipated.

“Babe?” You heard Shawn call through the door.

“Yeah?” You returned, wrapping a towel around your damp body and opening the door to find six feet of alpha towering over you. Shawn wore a black Adidas hoodie and gray joggers and his curly brown hair was damp and drooping. He must’ve been out on a run.

“It’s too bad I missed you. If I came home earlier we could’ve saved some water.” Shawn winked at you prompting a rosy blush. Normally, you’d be more suggestive but today you were off your game.

“Sorry, it’s all yours though if you want it.” You gestured toward the sauna behind her and tried to shoot him a smile. Unfortunately, the smile came a beat too late and faltered at the edge of your lips.

“Something’s up.” He stated simply, causing a spike in your heart rate that was impossible to miss. He gazed down at you with a neutral expression, “I’d like to talk to you about whatever is bothering you. Please?” Shawn extended a hand toward the bed and you sighed, knowing you shouldn’t have fooled yourself into thinking you could get by without telling him.

“I can tell you’re holding back, smell me.” You knew he liked to sniff your when he knew you were upset because with his heightened senses he could pick up a lot, “And just say what you need to say, I know you’re biting your tongue.” Your addition caused a flush in his cheeks, knowing his mate knew him too well.

“I could smell the fear on your clothes the second I came in, I figured if I gave you the chance maybe you’d tell me what happened. I don’t want to push you, but-” He leaned in close, “Even now you haven’t lost the fear.” His eyes were dark and serious but his words were soft and pensive.

Shawn may be an alpha but there was a respect for his mate that went beyond his alpha tendencies. So while everyone else should answer to the alpha, the alpha often answers to their mate. The mutual respect was important and it made you feel guilty that you wanted to keep it from him.

“A man followed me home. He, he stayed just out of sight for at least two blocks and then he chased me once I saw him. His intentions were... bad,” You thought of what would have happened if he caught you and shuddered. Shawn let out a deep growl but maintained the concerned look on his face. “Teddy was outside when I got here and she took care of me. I’m fine now.”

“I can have a member of the pack go with you when you need to go places alone. Fuck, I wish I could just stay with you but the club is hosting meetings all week with other pack leaders in the area. I have to be there.” Shawn was trying to problem solve and you could see him doing mental gymnastics to figure out how he could work this out.

“Shawn you have to go to those meetings and you’re going to need the pack to keep up appearances. You can’t appear weak.” You pointed out the flaws in his suggestion quietly. Secretly, you wished he didn’t have those meetings.

“I can’t be with you 24/7 truthfully, though I wish I could.” He dipped his head to yours to rest his sweaty forehead against your clean one. His eyes grew lighter, gaining a golden honey hue but not quite transitioning to his wolf eyes.

“Why don’t you teach me some self-defense? It’s long overdue considering your day job is being a bodyguard to execs.” You pulled away from Shawn and spoke enthusiastically. How had you not thought about this before?

“Mag-” Shawn hesitated, face contorting like a painful thought crossed his mind. You knew he was imagining you having to fight and knew the image would discourage him.

“Look, Shawn. I’m only human, we’re always at risk. The best I can do is be prepared, teach me.” You looked to him expectantly, rising from the bed so he sunk in further.

“Of course I’ll teach you. I just hate the idea of you having to use it.” Shawn stood with you, “Put on some clothes and I’ll show you. First off, you always go for the groin or throat on a man, don’t forget that.”

~

The night of training was long and left you needing a second shower. Shawn ended up getting his wish after all. You mostly just held each other and he spoke soft reassurances into your ear until the smell of fear had washed away from you.

Laying in bed in his arms you felt safe again, “Shawn?” You called quietly into the dark.

“Yeah what’s up bubba?” His words were dripping in drowsiness but he was alert for you, squeezing you gently against him as another affirmation that he was paying attention.

“We’ve never really talked about it much, but it’s rare for alphas to have human mates right?” You spoke clearly, but your words had purpose. He knew this wasn’t your only question.

“Yeah, it’s incredibly rare, why?” Shawn inquired. You could hear the way his ears perked up in his tone.

“What is it like for you? I only know how it was for me. I’d loved boyfriends before but when I met you it was something undeniable. I felt like I could understand you when we weren’t speaking. But people say for a werewolf, it’s stronger, different?” You blurted out the words in a jumble, still trying to get further to your final question.

“Yeah... it’s intense.” He sighed contently and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “You were like a magnet. I needed to be near you. And honestly, it’s like I see you in different colors than I see the rest of the world. Everything with you is more vibrant and strong, colors, emotions, desires, everything.” Shawn motioned with the free hand that wasn’t wrapped around you, trying to find the right words.

“Are you able to know more how I’m feeling than a regular wolf? Teddy picked up on my fear earlier too, but you seemed so on the head with exactly what I was feeling, is there a reason?” You finally begged the question, voice going up at the end with nerves.

“I can’t say for sure. When I smell you it’s nothing different from when Teddy does, except my sense is stronger. But I know what you mean, it’s like I can feel what you’re feeling sometimes, it’s like you’re whispering your inner thoughts to me, but no. I don’t know if it’s because were mates or if it’s because we’ve got such a close relationship.” Shawn’s answer was so thoughtfully crafted that you felt satisfied even if your question wasn’t resolved.

“I love you so much wolfie.” You sighed against his chest as you felt your own swell at the way he spoke about you. Shawn was a special kind of alpha, he was kind and funny, but he was still an alpha and as such often had to be very serious and guarded. You loved that he never treated you like that, he was a soft puppy dog with you. You ran a palm against the sprinkling of hair on his chest and heard his sigh of approval.

“I love you more than you know little one.” He groaned out as you carded a hand through his curls, lightly rubbing his scalp as you went. A small sound almost like a growl, but not quite, slipped from his lips. He was purring, he didn’t do it often, it was a very intimate thing that usually only happened when the two of you were laying bare with each other, vulnerable.

“Mmm,” You hummed happily at the adoring noise, which only made him louder. You drifted into sleep tangled up fully clothed and with his soft purrs, relishing in the intimacy of the moment.

~

Gathering yourself and reviewing what Shawn taught you last night, you began the walk home from work. You were hyper vigilant about every person around you, desperately searching for the asshole who stalked you yesterday. Halfway through the walk, nothing out of the ordinary had happened and you felt a soft buzz buzz in her pocket.

my love: hey bubs, meetings are taking a break. everything ok?

you: yeah no problems so far

my love: so you’re still out?

you: yes, going home now. i’m about halfway

my love: ok just be safe bub ok?

you: ok ☺️

You continued your walk, not facing any issues. You admired the horizon as the sun began to descend, light sunset colors beginning to take effect. You pulled out your headphones and decided you were safe to put them in and enjoy some music. As you rounded the corner and your fence came into sight the same gut-bottoming feeling spread through you.

“Gotcha,” A deep voice spoke right beside you as arms wrapped around your mouth and waist. Your heart rate jumped but you thought of Shawn last night. 

You need to be able to yell, so bite. Hard. If somebody has a hand or arm over your mouth. You did as her memory told, sliding your lips open and chomping down. You tasted blood but you didn’t care as your mouth became free and you cried out.

If you’re arms are pinned down, stomp on one of their feet. It should hurt enough to shock them and possibly give you room to loosen and arm and jam your elbow straight into their gut. You lifted your foot, feeling incredibly thankful that you wore heels today and slammed down. The exact effect worked, you eased one arm out in the moment of pain and shoved your sharp elbow into his gut causing him to release you.

Now once you’re free you can punch their throat with the heel of your palm or kick/knee their groin to further disorient them and give you time to escape. You decided since you had the window you didn’t want to miss your chance and kicked with all your might straight between the asshole’s legs and immediately jammed your palm to his Adam’s apple. He doubled over in pain and you started to run but he recovered too quickly.

“Not so fast little bitch.” He rasped through injured vocal cords. He grasped the back of your shirt and yanked you back toward him where he collapsed over you. Go for the eyes if you have to. You felt his knees pinning your arms to your body and any chance of eye gouging or fighting back went out the window. Fear flooded your system and you squeezed your eyes shut, afraid to see what would happen next.

“Oof.” You heard the wind get knocked out of your attacker and felt his oppressive presence leave your body. You scrambled to the side and leaned against the wall of a nearby building and observed your hero: a big grey and black wolf, Shawn. He scratched the man and bit him and then finally head butt him unconscious. Just as he went for the jugular with his claws, you called to him.

“Shawn wait!” Your voice was shaky but you commanded his attention. “Don’t kill him. Let me call the police, god knows what he’s done to people maybe we can give someone piece of mind that he’s been put away.” The wolf whined but you shook her head softly, “Please?”

Shawn morphed from wolf mostly back to human, he was naked of course but you’d seen him when he transformed. He maintained the fangs, his claws, and the amber eyes. “Are you sure, he was going to hurt you. That fucker doesn’t deserve to live.” His voice was garbled due to his partially inhuman qualities.

“Yeah, lets just call the police and tell them I was being attacked and I got lucky because a wolf showed up. They’ll be confused but who cares?” You still shook a bit from the encounter and Shawn finally took in all that had happened.

“Ok bub, you call but let me walk you home and get you in the house. I’ll tell them I can’t attend the rest of the meetings tonight.” You shook your head profusely at his soft words and his brow furrowed at your odd actions.

“I’m alright, I protected myself well up until the end. He’s out cold and I’m just going to call the police and go home.” You sighed, exhausted.

“I know baby. Let me stay with you because I love you and I’m concerned. Not because I don’t think you can handle yourself. I think you’re badass, but you’re still my entire heart and I need to be with you tonight.” Shawn gently picked up one of your palms and brought it to his lips, a plea in his eyes.

“Why don't you just take me with you to the meetings, I know I’m not a wolf and it can be dangerous but you’ll be there? Let me see you be the incredible alpha you are and be beside you?” Your request was one you’d thought about for awhile. You always wanted to be more involved in the werewolf community because you were mated to one but Shawn kept you separate so that you still had the choice to disconnect before you were thrust too far into the lifestyle.

“You’re right.” He said simply, you blanched at him, having expected him to put up at least a little bit of a fight.

~

After you gave your account to the police they released you to your newly clothed boyfriend, he went home to get a change of clothes while they arrived so he could act like you called him to come get you and he wasn’t previously there.

“Remember, once they see you they’ll know. Werewolves can sense mates, it’s almost like a matching scent. So once you walk in there it will be really hard to ever leave this life.” His words were a warning you didn’t need. And he knew that, but he needed you to know that you always had a choice.

“You’re my mate and I want to be by your side, let’s go.” You nodded toward the door and Shawn pulled it open for you to walk through. The entire bar looked to you as Shawn allowed you to lead him, not undermining him as an alpha but highlighting you as his queen.

The fear and feelings from the traumatic moments earlier in the night didn't leave you but as you sat beside your mate and he negotiated with other alphas and bargained for special herbs and peace treaties you felt a growing sense of serenity. This was his world, and you felt that your show of self-sufficiency earlier was your confirmation that you were tough enough to belong in it.

feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know how it was

[swanandapirate]

A Muted Hue of Grey (2/14) -- CSBB

Summary: Emma Swan liked being a PI in Boston. It was a fun job, she had an okay income and she was a good one at that, so there was no logical reason to try and leave. Except for the fact that she wanted to, so badly. And, when she received a job offer for what seemed to be the opportunity of a lifetime, she did exactly that. Leave. Run. All the way to London. The job was simple: trailing a man called Killian Jones. Easy enough.

Well, until things get complicated, that is.

Rating: M (later mentions of violence, alcohol abuse, and sex)

Wordcount: 4131

Links: ao3 // ff.net // chapter 1 

A/N: Here's chapter two to finally answer those questions of how Emma is going to handle this very inconvenient situation. Though I do have to say that if this cliffhanger was already difficult to handle (looking at you @sambethe 😉) then oooooh boy have I got some things in store for you.

Eternal gratitude to my two favorite internet people in the world: my betas @acourtoftruelove and @ofshipsandswans who turned this jumble of sometimes incoherent words into an actual fic. 

Also major thanks to @shady-swan-jones for her banner and all of the cool art that she is posting and will post!

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

Shit, shit, shit.

There went her cover.

Way to go. She definitely deserved the Private Investigator of the Year award. Stellar work.

Emma opened her mouth and filled her chest with air, only to release it again without an answer.

“Can I help you, lass?”

The question still hung in the air. What should she—could she—even answer?

Jones lowered his eyebrows, not content with the lack of response, of explanation.

The heat of his hand on her felt like it was two hundred degrees, his touch burning through her clothes and onto her skin. It was almost painful for how long it remained there, not moving, not leaving, just comfortably—for him at least—wrapped around her upper arm.

Emma shook her head, trying to shake the feeling of fumbling clumsiness. She smiled, flashing her teeth. “I’m sorry for bumping into you. I don’t know where my head is today.”

He tilted his head and Emma internally berated herself for not being more convincing. For not being more prepared. He was not buying it and that put her in big trouble.

His head remained cocked, his messy eyebrows moving into a frown.

“You’ve been walking behind me for a while, I feel.”

She needed to get out of here, to run as fast and as far as she could. But his hands were still on her, locking her into place, preventing her from dashing away. Running would also completely blow her cover; if he saw her following him again, his suspicion would not only grow but be confirmed and she’d be compromised. How on earth was she going to explain that to her boss?

It was out of the question, for both her own pride and reputation, and for the clause she’d signed as part of her contract. There was no room for failure, only for success, which left one option.

She had to lie. Had no other choice than to think of a plausible cover that would explain it all and maybe take Jones’ wary look away. But what would do the trick?

“I’m sorry?” she said, apologizing for the second time in the span of a minute. Emma grimaced as she realized that too. “It’s just that— I—” Anything, just think of anything. “I have this feeling like I know you and I know that doesn’t condone the stalking but I was trying to figure out why I’m having this feeling. You aren’t a movie star, are you? A famous rock star?”

She was about to continue her list of possible—very impossible—professions he could have but it seemed the two options she’d given him had done their job.

He looked at her dazed.

“I’m guessing that’s a no. I don’t know where I could know you from, if that’s the case. I mean, this is my first time in London and I doubt you spent a lot of time in Boston.”

Take the bait, take the bait.

“I did actually.” Every word came out more surprised than the last. Jones seemed surprised himself. If only he knew.

She was acting and it felt like the fakest thing ever, it felt like she was being obvious, like the over-expressive, melodramatic actors in daytime soaps the moment they discovered their wife had had an affair with their twin brother and she was now pregnant with no idea who the real father was. Shocked .

“What?”

He interpreted the question wrong and completed his own statement.

“Spend a lot of time in Boston.”

“You did? Really?”

Of course, she knew this. She’d memorized his biography, up to every trivial fact like which Bostonian coffeehouse he frequented and what his order consisted of. She even knew where he lived. Close to where she used to. An odd thing their paths never crossed.

“Aye.” Killian slowly nodded. “I lived in Boston up until last year. I moved back a couple of months ago.”

“Huh.” She let her lips form a smile that read something in the lines of this person is currently pleasantly surprised. “Guess it’s not that far-fetched I actually know you from somewhere.”

“I suppose not,” he was forced to agree. “But you don’t seem familiar, if I’m being entirely honest,” he then said apologetically, his lips somewhere between a grimace and a smile.

“I don’t really try to stand out.”

She didn’t like to stand out because it made her job easier, a shadow in the night, a flash of movement during the day; it left her subject unsuspecting, unguarded and it was the easiest way to gain information and to get the job done. She didn’t like to stand out because that’s what led to problems back in the foster system. Standing out led to being singled out, being ostracized from the group. It led to bigger kids stealing her dinner, taking away the few dollar bills she managed to save. In short, it led to heartbreak and hurt. Laying low was a tactic, something ingrained into her being, perhaps that’s why she excelled at doing what she did. Maybe that was why she spent most of her life alone. Not lonely, per se, but alone .

And it was finally something that did not taste bitter in her mouth, that resembled the actual truth. This lying to his face, after the short amount of time she’d done it, was a whole different thing from spying on him from afar. She signed up for the latter, the former wasn’t how she liked to do things, how she liked to handle her work.

Jones’ eyes reflected the rays of light emitted by the sun, flecks of grey standing out in the sea of blue.

In an instant, a moment as fast as a fingersnap, she became aware of their unfortunate placement; it was as badly chosen as the place where the tween had picked out to take her selfie earlier. The irritation Emma had then experienced was now endured by other people, people trying to pass but they could not because of the blockage the two of them were creating. Jones seemed to come to the same realization as he apologetically smiled at some angry-looking people, his right hand delving into his hair to scratch the back of his scalp. Emma mentally added it to her list of information. Killian Jones had a tic, a tic which was quite adorable. She wouldn’t add that last bit to her folder, though.

They looked at each other and the clumsiness of the people swerving left and right, the slight embarrassment due to the angry glares caused them both to hesitantly snicker, a connection forming through the shared amusement.

With resolution and completely in sync, they stepped out of the way, much to the content of the passersby. As soon as they did, the cacophony of the city fell away; only a subdued buzz remained as they fled away towards a small alcove of sorts. It wasn’t more than a glorified dirty corner hidden from view, graffiti sprayed on the otherwise grimy walls, puddles of suspicious substances covering the floor. Not that she was paying attention to those, Killian wasn’t either.

They were only watching each other in almost silence.

It brought a kind of intimacy, let the calm slowly descend onto the two of them. Two new lovers might search it, two experienced ones might treasure it, but Emma and Killian were neither. Far from it even.

They barely knew each other.

He barely knew her, they hadn’t even talked for more than a minute.

So the intimacy was odd. Unsought.

“This is going to sound a bit forward of me,” Killian finally broke the silence, “but would you like to continue this conversation in a place that’s slightly more suitable and reeks slightly less of piss?”

There was no other acceptable answer but yes. Declining would mean she’d rather stay in a shady alley than go somewhere with him. Even though she didn’t really owe him anything and she had every right to say no, it was quite an offensive thing to say. And nothing in his conduct or words had warranted such an insult.

“Yes. To the ‘no piss’ thing,” she specified after a beat.

It may have sounded as a joke, a jest to add amusement but in reality, to Emma there was nothing humorous about it. It was Emma trying to backtrack, recede to a place where it was safe and where she could blend into the shadows again.

Killian perceived it as a joke. He rumbled a laugh before looking over his shoulder, scanning the street for any oncoming groups of tourists or traffic, and, after the briefest brush of his fingers against the edge of her hand, he led the way.

It was accidental, nothing more.

It was just to signal that he was leaving, nothing more.

All things she told herself but failed to convince her, did not manage to omit the tingle in her flesh his touch had generated.

There was no use to think about the reasons behind his actions. She didn’t need to think about it, all she needed to do was follow him, continue and maintain a shallow conversation, end it with a friendly smile and an insincere “I hope we see each other again”, and disappear; never to be seen again, never to encounter each other again. It would require a moment to collect her thoughts and strategize, come up with a new tactic to bring this assignment to a fruitful end but those were worries for later.

The thing she needed to worry about now was how to converse with someone she already knew everything about, someone who wasn’t allowed to know anything about her. It didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for a topic of conversation.

Lost in her own thoughts searching for a subject other than how hot the weather was today, she was too busy to pay attention to her surroundings or Jones. Emma’s absent-mindedness resulted in her not seeing he had stopped moving in front of her and almost running into him again. Jeez, a second time would not only be embarrassing but also a testimony of pure clumsiness.

And she didn’t require any additional unnecessary touches and even more tension, she’d had quite enough of that for one day.

He didn’t speak or explain the sudden emergency brake situation that had just taken place, but twisted to face her. He stared at her. Only stared, his gaze scanning her face. It felt like a judgment, as if he was trying to figure out something but Emma hadn’t the slightest idea what that might be.

“What?” she eventually settled for plain out asking, her curiosity and impatience getting the better of her.

It jostled Jones back to reality, his eyelids moving to blink away the hitch.

“Killian,” he said. “That’s my name.” His head softly shook. “I realized I hadn’t introduced myself yet.”

“Oh!” Yeah, she hadn’t thought about asking his name because she already knew. “Nice to meet you.” Lifting her hand, she extended it towards him but as she did, the urge to retract came instantaneously. What if the feeling she’d tried to shake off earlier returned? This time, she couldn’t hold static energy accountable or pretend it was just an itch. It was too late, however, as Killian’s hand enveloped hers, a flood of warmth following.

She could attribute that to body heat, she supposed.

“I’m Emma.”

She stopped there to retain a kind of simplicity, of mystery. It was better for him not to know a lot about her, but Killian thought differently as he raised his eyebrow and nodded at her to continue.                                                                 

“Emma Swan,” she completed begrudgingly.

The name—her name—brought a smile upon his face and Emma wanted to ask why, wanted to smile along before she remembered. No attachments.

“Swan?” he questioned. “Really?

An affirmative nod.

“What’s yours?” she asked, perfectly aware of how she shouldn’t already know it. But it was the normal thing to do when two strangers met for the first time.

“Jones,” he replied. “Couldn’t be more generic than that. Although, I could be named Killian Smith, but that wouldn’t ring quite as good, I think.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Killian Jones is a good name.”

“So is Emma Swan.”

“Thank you.”

They began walking again, a slow pace and now next to each other instead of Emma letting him leading the way.

“I once knew a chap called BJ Dickerson, that wasn’t a good name.”

“No way,” she said in disbelief and when Killian nodded, she frowned. “Whatever his initials stood for, it could not have been worse than BJ Dickerson.”

“I beg to differ,” he said, trying to suppress his smile. “His parents called him Bachelor-Januarius. He wasn’t even born in January. I don’t think his parents were too fond of him, poor lad.”

Emma couldn’t help herself as she burst into laughter, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. Killian stopped attempting to not laugh, his chuckle joining her giggle, the two sounds blending perfectly. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, she wiped them away with the pad of her thumb as she tried to compose herself and catch her breath.

Once she did and once they focused on walking again instead of laughing, she came to the pathetic conclusion that this was the first time she’d laughed—really genuinely laughed without any inhibitions—in quite some time. Long enough for her not to remember when or where or why. She should’ve expected that to happen seeing that she left all her friends back in the States.

Coming to a halt before a Pret A Manger establishment, Killian gestured with his head to propose entering to which Emma agreed. It was the afternoon, the peak hours of coffee-craving businessmen and women already gone so they were able to sit in a relatively calm environment. A young man greeted them and they both smiled in return.

The table they chose to sit at carried remnants of its previous occupants, some drops and crumbs scattered across its surface. Before sitting down, Killian reached for the napkin dispenser, grabbing two and swiping them across the table, getting rid of the traces and clearing it for them. His prosthetic motioned towards the chair opposite of him, inviting her to take a seat. Before he did too, he searched for a trashcan and disposed of the napkins.

It gave her some time to prepare, to take a calming breath and wipe her sweaty palms across her jeans as she went over the battle strategy again. It was one she was familiar with but it had been some time since she had utilized it, since she needed to. This resembled one of her bailbonds dates. The ones where she had to drag her words through a process of hemming and hawing, giving an altered, watered-down version of the truth while keeping it believable. The purpose now, however, wasn’t to expose the target but to prevent herself from being outed by them.

“Would you like something?” Killian asked with a friendly smile when he returned.

“Umm,” she thought for a second before answering, “A hot chocolate would be fine.”

“Great, I’ll be right back,” he told her.

Another big difference with her past as a bail bondsperson; back then she acted as seductive as possible, bending her body the right way to sit and show off some cleavage, watching her date the right way by batting her eyelashes, pretending to get tipsy after two glasses of red wine (her alcohol tolerance was better than that). But nothing like that now, a hot chocolate was as far from being seductive as it could be.

When the steaming cups—hers the aforementioned hot chocolate, and his a plain cup of coffee—were placed on their table, Emma wondered for a moment why exactly she chose a warm beverage when it was sweltering hot outside. But she had never been the healthy juice cleanse kind of girl and, once she took a hesitant sip and the chocolaty taste coated her tongue, she forgot all about the outside temperatures and could only think of her tastebuds reveling in the taste. It was okay at best but she couldn’t remember the last time she had taken the time to enjoy some.

God, why was she getting emotional about a cup of mediocre hot chocolate.

Killian drank from his cup as well, flinching. It would appear his cup was mediocre at best too. He grabbed the container of sugar that stood on the table and poured some into the black liquid.

“So what did you do back in Boston, if you don’t mind me asking?” Emma asked, the comfortable silence not sitting well with her. It was too comfortable when it should be anything but.

He looked up from his cup of coffee, his expression open and kind, before he answered, “I did technical writing for an engineering firm.”

“Sounds interesting.”

He took a sip, the sugar clearly helping, before he shook his head with a tiny smile.

“It wasn’t,” Killian said, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I quit. I got sick of it all and I needed something new.”

An idea formed in Emma’s thoughts, a lightbulb in the center of her mind that gradually became brighter and brighter until it glowed ever so powerful and made everything so clear. How to respond, what to say, how to proceed.

“What company did you work for?”

She just met the man, some curiosity was allowed, was even expected. Conveniently, that granted her the opportunity to steer the conversation to where she wanted it to go, to subtly guide Killian to a place where her act was believable and unsuspicious. Innocent.

Emma let her head rest on her hand, her chin propped up on her palm and her fingers spreading across the apple of her cheek.

“It was called Spencer Mechanics,” Killian answered.

“Really?” Her eyebrows rose. “I think I just figured out why you seem so familiar.”

Well, she just came up with a story to explain why he seemed so familiar, but semantics. More or less.

“You have? Do share,” he encouraged, slightly leaning closer in intrigue.

“A friend of mine once had a shitty temp job there and I came to her rescue with lunch sometimes. I probably saw you in passing a couple of times. I have a weird memory like that. Don’t ask me what I ate for lunch two days ago, but faces often stick.”

She could see him considering it—her story—for a moment, most likely wondering if it wasn’t too much of a coincidence, but dismissed the matter after having thought about it for a moment of silence.

“I apologize for not remembering yours,” he spoke again. “It’s a face worth remembering.”

Emma suddenly wished she hadn’t ordered a hot beverage but a cool one instead so she could cool her body down, rub the cold condensation against her heated, red cheeks. Why is she getting so flustered over small things and comments? Jesus. She had been flirted with before, so why was Jones different?

The answer wasn’t difficult to find, all she had to do was look up and there it was, visible in the way his eyes exuded sincerity and authenticity and the small smile that followed, as if the comments weren’t made to get something but simply to tell her, to make her aware of how things were from his point of view. A genuine compliment without any ulterior motives. She had to admit that had been rare in her previous experiences.

She didn’t want to be flustered, but she definitely was right this minute and Killian saw it too, a little cocky smirk appearing on his lips and then immediately disappearing again as he widened the distance between them again by leaning against the back of his chair.

“Do you like living in London?”

“I’d say so. Moving here was pretty hectic, however, I’ve been here barely three weeks and there are so many things to take care of.”

Rent, for one; money, her dollars wouldn’t get her far here; transport, she felt the loss of her beloved bug.

“It’s a big transition, isn’t it?” He nodded sympathetically. “I’m from here and it was still quite an adjustment for me.”

“Did you live in the States for long?” she asked before drinking the last of her beverage and placing the cup back on the table.

Seven years.

“About seven years,” he confirmed her information.

“That is a long time.” Her eyebrows shot upwards in something fluctuating between agreement and appreciation.

Killian shrugged before shifting the focus back onto Emma. “How long are you in London for?”

“A couple of months. It all depends on how much my boss likes the work I do.” That was true, Jones just didn’t need to know what exactly it was she did.

“What do you do?”

She should’ve seen that one coming, fuck.

“Oh, I don’t want to bore you with it.”

She waved it away, a fearful smile appearing on her face. It wasn’t more than a slight arch to hide the way she was clenching her jaw.

“You wouldn’t,” he assured her, lowering his head to meet her eyes, a sign he was a good listener, a kind one at that. For once, she wished her date—he wasn’t that but for lack of a better term he was—would only think about himself, talk about himself without asking about her, self-centered and selfish. Killian wasn’t, however. “I’m interested.”

Which was what she needed least, interest. In her and what she did.

“I’m um… what you would call a bail bonds person.”

Killian blinked and shook his head simultaneously, both obvious signs of how he was taken aback by her profession—even though it was her previous one and not her current, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Really?” he asked, yet again confirming his surprise.

Emma couldn’t help that her answer sounded just that little bit prickly. “You sound surprised.”

Her prickliness was justified, though. Because it was getting tedious and monotonous, the misogynistic air that hung around the oh’s and really’s and the you must be joking’s.

Because everyone sounded surprised. Men especially. They thought women weren’t powerful enough, were too emotional to succeed. It was why she was a bailbonds personand not man. She was a woman. And a damn powerful one.

“Only because I’ve never met a bail bonds person before. How on earth could that ever bore me?”

“It all sounds really exciting but in the end it’s more paperwork and boring stake outs than anything else.”

She toyed with the empty cardboard cup of her hot chocolate, her fingernail denting the ridge before letting her hand compress it, until the cup was completely flat.

His eyes fell on the camera now safely stored in its bag and hung across the chair Emma sat on.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt you during one.” His features turned worrisome.

“You didn’t,” she reassured.

Lie.

“I was simply exploring a bit.”

Lie.

“I haven’t had the time yet.”

Truth.

“You’d never come to London before moving here?”

“No,” she admitted, shaking her head. “Sometimes it feels like I have absolutely no idea where I’m going. I’m just following the masses.”

Emma assumed that they knew where they were going—at least vaguely. She just let the stream carry her, calmly floating along and she’d see where she would end up. Killian, however, clearly disagreed.

“You shouldn’t! London is better than the masses make it out to be.”

“If you feel inclined to be my personal tour guide, feel free to,” Emma joked.

“Well, there’s an idea.” Killian smirked.

“I was joking,” she explained, the panic rising inside. She was already regretting her words. Why did she have to say that and give him ideas? “I don’t want to claim any more of your time.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured and Emma wished he didn’t. “I was going to go to the library but I wouldn’t mind taking a stroll about the town.”

A creature of extreme habit and he was altering his routine. Changing something almost set in stone. For her.

She didn’t want to think about what that meant.

They stood up, their chairs scraping against the floor. Killian took Emma’s crushed cup and his own, still in its original state, and threw them into the trash. She smiled to thank him while attempting to get that lightbulb in her head to work again, for it to provide another story she could use to her advantage and get out of this situation. But it stayed completely dark and so she followed him outside.

“Welcome to the real London, Emma Swan.”

In the masses of the crowd, they disappeared together.

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

Fun fact: I actually know someone who is called Januarius and he wasn’t born in January either. I hope you liked it! See you next Thursday!

[afrocentric-divination]

Hi! I've paid. I've been wanting to get a reading from you for a minute. I don't have a boo or anything because in the past I've pretty much just ended up isolating myself from relationships to work and make money. I'm currently transition to a job that better on all fronts, but I may have missed out on some things. So I guess my question is romantically what is going on with me? I'm typically good at getting what I want, but this evades me.

Hey love, thank you for ordering! I’m so glad you decided to let me read for you 🖤

So first off, this reading as a couple of positions and a couple of "free" cards or cards that I interpret intuitively about what their meaning is. Throughout the reading, I will let you know what cards are for what and their position.

The Relationship Now - 2 of Wands

This card is a wonderful card to start with, as you have already mentioned that you are not in a relationship right now, but with this card, it says that there is work being done on both sides. You and this other person are actively thinking about love, even if it leads to dead ends and while it seems tiring to keep going and pursue something that seems like it doesn't align with your life, you both still take a chance every day to keep your heart a little bit open for the other to finally walk in your life. This card is also an encouraging one, telling to keep your head up. That eventually, you will gain the love you seek and that you still have a few steps to take to get what you desire. Some work with yourself needs to happen (and with this other person as well) before a foundation can start, but know that your love is coming. Don't give up hope just yet.

You - 9 of Pentacles, 8 of Swords, Wheel of Fortune

These cards are the “Free” cards as well as the next set of cards below. These cards talk about you and this other potential person and what is going on in you all’s life. 

There is confidence and there is a material life that is comfortable. You are able to get what you need and sometimes what you want. You are happy where you are in regards to your work life and you might even have a stable group of friends and loved ones that support you at all times. In the physical world, it seems like you go it all together, with how you present yourself and how you connect with others. But its the complete opposite in your mind. Your thoughts are always jumbled, they're always going, and it's hard to make sense of how you feel. You may feel from time to time but your mind always over thinks things and it becomes confusing for you to understand who you are and where you stand, regardless of how the outside looks. This unsureness is something that may have gotten in the way of past relationships, something that blocked you from the other persona in what ultimately made the other person frustrated with you. When asked the simple but loaded question, "How do you feel," you could never really answer, or you always used the go-to answer, "I'm good," or, "I'm fine." Over time, you never telling your feelings as you should in a relationship led to you not telling your jumbled thoughts to you not saying anything. The silence then became overshadowing, taking over the relationship and what pushed past lovers away in the end.

That second half was all from the 8 of Swords, but the good things about that card are that it is possible to get out of the problem you have created in your head and ultimately, creating in your real world. And it's really simple. You have to just talk. Tell people how you feel even when you're not certain. Let them into your world and take them on a ride of how your mind works. Opening yourself up is making yourself vulnerable, and while having a perfect a relationship sounds great, it is not realistic. What is realistic is sometimes crying on the shoulder of a loved one because you're confused, or walking back and forth ranting because a relative goes on your nerves, or weighing your options out loud so they know where you stand. You don't have to be as sure and stable in your mind as your public life seems to be. But just like your active in your public life, and active in your mentality, be active in connecting with other mentalities, as connections lead to relationships.

Try practicing with your friends or relatives, as I have a feeling you've also been putting up a facade with them too. Yes, it's going to be nerve racking but if you can't be true to yourself and to the people who love you platonically, how are you to be true to a person you're connected to romantically?

The Wheel of Fortune then let you know that a change is coming. A continuation of the "Relationship Now" card. Just because things are going the way you want them to, doesn't mean that things are going anywhere. You just have to keep riding the wave, keep building yourself and your life. Eventually, you will get to what you seek as the universe hears you. They know what you want Just let them set it up so that it can happen. Eventing doesn't just happen overnight.

Them -  3 of Swords, 8 of Swords, 3 of Cups

These cards are a description of who you possible next lover will be, the one you wish to have a long last relationship with. There is a possibility that you may know this person already, or you might have never seen them a day in your life. Either way, you have to keep your heart open and your eyes even more open.

First, it is obvious that they are coming out of a relationship of their own. A relationship where there were a couple of daggers thrown, and it ended hurting one person more than the other. Words were said, and maybe someone did something that they regretted, but in the end, they had to move on. To them they things kept piling up and getting worse, and they knew it would be better to leave and be sane than to go almost insane trying to mend a relationship that won't last. With this kind of intro, you have to know that the potential love of your life has some trauma with them, some sadness that they held onto, some anger that they probably haven't let go of, and confusion of their own. They will have a wall up, and will slightly resemble you. When you meet them and listen to what they have to say or how they carry on the conversation, it will almost be like looking in the mirror. Just like a person has to be careful with you and listen more than talk back with you because you rarely open up your mind, you will have to b careful with them. Their heart has been damaged and they will not be so inclined to be with you or with anyone romantically.

This is my turn to warn you. Don't be persistent. You are initiating this connection, yes, and you're trying to everything you can to always have a healthy one, but have a healthy relationship with someone means having a healthy relationship with yourself and with boundaries. Don't push them to open with you when they don't want to right away. Show that you're around and that you're always open to hang out, but leave when they show that they don't want to be bothered. A relationship should not be stressed, especially in the beginning. Don't force what isn't there. But, when they do decide to come around, be open to them. Be aware of your limitation as well as their's.

The last card, the 3 of Cups kind of gives a glimpse of where you both might meet at. A party meeting? A gathering? A club? A lounge? A place with all of your friends? Wherever it is, there will be a crowd, you will be enjoying yourself, and you may be even celebrating, hence the party or party like atmosphere.

How Could This Relationship Be? - 8 Of Wands

This relationship can really take off the way you've always wished. It could be exciting, it could be fun, it could be eye-opening. I see travel as being one of the big things between the 2 of you. You guys might end up experiencing the world together, trying new things all the time and being adventurous, even if that means doing so in the comfort of your own town or own state. Every day will never be dull and from the night out to a lazy Sunday evening. You will both encourage the others to always do their best and will never let the other person talk down on themselves. You both know what it means to be confused and unsure in your own respects, and will wish to carry out this relationship as clearly as possible. Nothing will be held back, and if something isn't said at the moment, it will be said later on. A beautiful way to carry out a relationship.

How Can You Get To How Things Could Be? - Emperor

Control. You need control of your thoughts, control of your emotions, and control in your actions. And let me set things clear, I'm not asking you to be perfect in everything you do, but I am asking you to be sure, to be stable, to be methodical. Do not hold yourself back because things are scary. Ride with those feeling of uncertainty and stand tall in your uncertainty. You seem so confident to everyone you come across, learn to hold that same energy within yourself when your alone and when you're in a romantic situation. Vulnerable is incredibly sexy and when given to the right person and give life a beautiful relationship. Don't hold yourself back from what could have been because of your afraid of who you are. Be firm in your power. Even when you're not sure exactly what that power is.

I wish you the best of luck love!

Once again, thank you for ordering, and I hope my words resonated with you. If you have question or concerns please don’t hesitate to PM me.

And for anyone else wanting a reading like this one, know that I have Special February Love Readings going on until the end of the month! Information on those readings are here. Have any questions or concerns? PM me and I will get to you as soon as possible. Or click on the PRICES link below. Until then!

🔮 – PRICES - PAST READINGS - PAYPAL - VENMO - CASHAPP - FACTS & TERMS – 🔮

[fortunatowrites]

One Last Dance

Prompt: A man is going to die soon and turns to the dark arts of magic to resurrect his wife for one last dance.

Ravens sat on the roof of Jenkins’ house, loudly cawing. Within the house, Jenkins solemnly sat in his favorite chair: a large red sofa. The fabric’s color had faded with age and the seams still held together firmly except in a few places.

    He swirled the remaining scotch and ice cubes in his glass with his left hand. Looking over to his right hand, he gazed at the framed photo of his wife. The glass had cracked from when it fell a few days ago; something he interpreted as a sign of her restless spirit. They had been so happy together but a few years ago, right before a grand ball, she got ill. The next month she got sicker. The month after that, she was buried. Now he was beginning to feel ill.

    Jenkins took a swig of scotch. His trade was magic, but he kept to simple spells and tricks. He looked over at a poster of himself in a top hat and suit, surrounded by doves. Jenkins had made a living as a stage magician and was very popular a long time ago. His spellbooks had been gathering dust since the marriage. Not that she disapproved, but he felt more confident with her in his life. He didn’t have to use real magic to give himself fulfillment anymore. On the stage he trusted more of the parlor tricks, but started to attract less crowds. That was fine with him because he had made enough.

    A rifle leaned against the wall across from him. Throwing his head back, he finished his scotch and slammed it down. Jenkins was elderly, but he wasn’t feeble. He could still handle his liquor and needed some liquid courage. Standing up from the chair, the photo still in his other hand, he walked over and grabbed the rifle.

    It was the dead of night and Jenkins crept out onto his lawn. His shoes had large shadows underneath and his footsteps made no noise as he moved through the grass. The work of an enchantment for hunting.

The ravens on his roof were still cawing; another sign. The sign being that they were ravens and not crows; along with their constant cawing. He aimed the rifle and took a deep breath. A raven looked directly at him. Before it could caw, there was a loud bang.

    The bird fell lifelessly to the ground as the others took to the air. Scooping up the corpse and heading back inside, Jenkins began to grab more materials. The shadows around his feet dissipated as he crossed back into the light of his home.

    About an hour later, Jenkins stood in his basement. He was dressed in old stage gear, top hat and cape included. A book that radiated ill feelings sat on a table nearby. Just looking at its strange twisted covers gave the impression that this was a dark book. A bloody sigil was painted on the concrete flooring; it was surrounded by lit candles and strange objects. Jenkins placed the raven’s body in the center and leaned his deceased wife’s picture against it.

    If he was going to leave this life soon, he wanted to make sure he had one last dance with his wife. Even if it meant delving into the darker parts of magic known as necromancy. The signs he had seen led him to believe his wife’s spirit might still be lingering; an urgent issue this dance would solve.

    Jenkins began reading from the book and waving his magic wand around. He spoke the incantations and muttered the spell through an ancient language. The air in his basement somehow grew stiller and the lights began flickering and dimming. The blood on the ground was beginning to glow red. A gust of wind suddenly picked up and the candles got brighter. Other books in the room began to fall off of shelves and slam onto the floor. They flung open and their pages rippled. Jenkins began to chant louder as the wind spun around him, his cape flapping in the wind now.

    The ravens outside began to caw even louder, somehow aware of what was happening below. More ravens flew to the house and began to spiral overhead. The dead raven in the circle began to twitch, its eyes glowing red.

    Cracks began to appear in the ground beneath the sigil, splitting off and spreading out under the sigil. Red light began to pulse through the cracks and illuminated the room. The winds began to slow and a mist ebbed in, hanging over the floor. Some of the mist began to swirl up over the sigil and glowed red. The dead raven hopped up and flew up to Jenkins’ eye level. There it stayed hovering and flapping its wings.

    The raven began to speak, a woman’s voice coming out of its beak.

    “Jenkins?” she asked, the mist forming a spectral image of a woman around the raven.

    “Clarabelle,” he said softly. “I know there are many tricksters through the night that would want this opportunity to get in the material plane. I have placed my wards to keep them out, but I must be certain.”

    “My wise wizard,” she cooed.

    Jenkins teared up at hearing that. She used to refer to him like that whenever he explained his tricks. There was such a kindness in her words that he wanted to just release her spirit right away, but he held on to his resolve.

    “What did I enchant for you?”

    There was a slight giggle before the answer, “You enchanted my heart with your love. That was all the magic I needed in my life.”

    The tears fell as he laughed and choked back a sob. “Oh my darling, how I’ve missed you. Let’s have one last dance,” he said with a smile.

    The spectral mist reached out a hand and he reached forward and grabbed it. Suddenly, the cracks in the floor widened and split open, revealing a large hole into a pit of fire. The mist was blown away as the floor shot hot air upwards. A pulse of pressure went through the room and caused Jenkins to stumble back, gasping. His hand was still holding an invisible presence that began to materialize.

    Jenkins looked to see a large black talon was gripping his arm. The talon was connected to a scaly arm that was materializing back into the hole. The raven stopped hovering over the hole and began to fall, but it exploded into blood and feathers before reaching halfway. The raven’s blood and feathers began to swirl around the arm as something climbed out the hole. Jenkins thought the arm had to be around four and a half feet long to reach so far.

    Another talon reached out of the hole and a beast pulled itself out. It was covered in raven feathers and bones, it seemed to have no neck because its head was just right between its shoulders. If those large spiky lumps could be considered shoulders. Clearly, this was a powerful demon. Too powerful for this ritual.

    “How is this possible, trickster?!” Jenkins shouted angrily, like as if he had caught someone cheating in a game.

    “It’s been a long con to get you to do this ritual during my height of power. This is the week of my crowning as Queen of the Dark Skies,” she answered, the voice of his wife distorted and jumbling against another deep one. “The Ravens pull me through but only during a night like this could I have such a grandiose plan come to fruition. You poor elderly fool. Foolish old man Jenkins.”

    The Queen taunted him as she finally pulled her entire body out of the ground. She looked like if a raven had become an obese person, but with weirdly long arms and stubby legs. A large raven tail seemed to fall behind her like the gown of a dress. She finally released his hand and he fell backwards: greatly to her amusement.

    She scurried away, further into his basement, laughing with a maniacal glee and dark foreboding presence. Jenkins gathered himself and ran for the stairs. The Queen turned around and as his foot was about to land on the first step, she reached out and yanked on his ankle. He fell onto the stairs and let out a yowl of pain. Then he twirled his wand and spoke a magic word, aiming at her hand.

    She flinched as sparks started to pop out from her arm and she howled in pain.

    “Nuisance of a wizard!” she roared as he scrambled up the stairs.

    After reaching the top, he slammed the door shut and drew a sigil on the door with his wand. Six sounds of various locks clicking shut could be heard, despite no physical locks being present on the door. Several seals like this were on the house to keep out bad spirits, but they would thankfully keep her trapped in the house. At least for now.

Jenkins began to cuss and pace around. This Queen had tricked him severely by somehow ebbing her presence into his home and pretending to be his wife.

    Jenkins began to feel ill and had a coughing fit. This time, it felt like something was actually in his throat. After a couple of violent hacks, he coughed up blood and a foreign object. Washing his hands in the kitchen, he saw it was a crooked and large raven feather.

    “She’s…the sickness…” he muttered to himself.

    Rage began to fill him as he paced around the kitchen. She had absolutely played him like a fiddle and he didn’t even know what he could do about it. As he did this, his concentration was broken by a knocking at his door. It was a loud knocking and brief.

    Weighing his options, he decided to answer the door and hope whoever was there wouldn’t ask too many questions about the noise. As he cracked the door open, he realized he was going to be the one with many questions.

    A man was standing at the door with a noose around his neck. The rope hanging from his neck had been cut and hung just past his chest, almost like a crude leash. The man was wearing a leather jacket that looked like it had been through hell and had several questionable stains on it. He was rugged, dirty, and unkempt judging from his look in general. A cracked motorcycle helmet was hiding his face.

    The strangest thing was probably that Jenkins could feel an absolute anger coming from him.

    “Hello, how can I help you this evening?” Jenkins asked politely.

    “You have a demon problem,” spoke a gravelly voice. “I am a demon’s problem.”

    “How did you know?”

    “Ravens.”

    Jenkins poked his head out and looked at the massive flock of ravens that was circling his house. That was an incredibly ill omen. He looked back to the man and realized he was holding up a large dead one in his hand. The creature was somewhat transformed and had more eyes than it should along with tentacles coming out of its back.

    Jenkins was positive this man had simply choked it out and never let go, because the tentacles were limply wrapped around his wrist.

    “Please, come in,” Jenkins said, holding the door open.

    The man grunted and walked inside. As he stepped in, he clenched his fist and the raven creature exploded in a small puff of hellfire. He looked around and immediately went to the basement door. At this point, Jenkins noticed a small chainsaw hanging from his belt.

    “Who are you?”

    “Call me the Emissary of Hell. These demons will never kill me and I’ll never stop killing them.”

    Then he kicked the door right off its hinges and down the steps. Large green sparks of magic shot around the doorway as the sound of invisible lock pieces hitting the floor clattered out. The door toppled town the stairs and there was loud slamming and meaty noises as it crashed into something. The Emissary simply marched down to the basement.

    “Looks like someone’s breached open a hole to their realm of demons,” Jenkins heard the Emissary say. Then he heard the chainsaw rev up.

    “But… my spells…” Jenkins said, staring at the doorway totally confused.

    Down in the basement, there were raven-like imps all over the place. Some of them were just flying around in circles, laughing and cawing. The others were knocking things over and trying to find a way out of the basement. The Queen lifted the door off herself and pointed at the Emissary.

    “Kill him!” she screamed to her raven minions.

    Swinging the chainsaw around, the Emissary began to slice through the horde.

One of them tried to peck him in the face with a beak larger than his muscled forearm, but the Emissary tilted his head a little and dodged. Throwing the chainsaw into a larger raven imp, he then grabbed the one that tried peck him by the neck. Yanking it down to him, the Emissary then savagely punched it several times before headbutting it, exploding the skull into fire and raven feathers.

    The other demon stumbled about with the chainsaw digging into its shoulder. The Emissary charged at him with swift speed and shoved the chainsaw through him, slicing the demon diagonally in half. Another imp tried to leap on his back, but he grabbed it by the foot. Pulling it in front of him, it being the average size of about 3 feet, he dropped the chainsaw and used his other hand to snap it in half over his knee.

    The Queen roared with anger as the Emissary continued to rip and tear through her forces.

    “What foul force did that wizard conjure against me!?” she screamed as she reached out to snatch the chainsaw away.

    “You summoned me,” he said as he used his hands to pound away on another raven imp, until it was a mess of feathers and fire. It didn’t even take ten seconds.

    Though his face was covered by the helmet, the Queen flinched with a feeling that he was smiling underneath it. She tore the chainsaw apart and could swear she heard him laugh as he did the same to another raven imp. She watched in horror as he used the beak he took from one and stabbed a larger imp in the gut. It collapsed and he brought his fists together overhead, bashing down on it.

    Jenkins paced about upstairs, listening to the chaos unfold down there. He began to worry about the Emissary, so he grabbed a book and then looked down the stairwell. The Emissary was beating an imp into feathers and fire with a smaller raven imp. The Queen looked like she was getting ready to charge on him, but then he just stood and pointed at her. Jenkins could almost swear it was a look of terror on her face.

    The Emissary pulled out a double barreled shotgun from underneath his jacket. Jenkins wasn’t sure if the gun had actually been under there or if it was summoned from an enchantment. As the Emissary approached the Queen, Jenkins ran down the stairs and over to the hole in the basement. He began to conjure a spell to seal it.

    The Emissary stopped a couple feet away from the Queen and beckoned her with a crooked finger. The Queen glanced around and then charged at him with her incredible long arms. She tried to swipe at him from the right, but he quickly blasted half her arm away with the shotgun. Raven feathers fell to the floor, to join the bloody mess of feathers that were already piling up.

    She howled with pain and tried to scurry away. The Emissary ran behind her and kept blasting, she had almost nowhere to run. The shots were tearing chunks of her away into fire and feathers. Finally, she huddled in the corner and exploded into a mess of feathers and bright red light. The Emissary turned away as she did so. When he looked back, she was gone but a husk of her former self was still there.

    “She’s taken a new form and thrown some underlings at me,” the Emissary announced.

    Three new raven demons stood before him, twitching with excitement. They were thin black creatures with large beaks and razor sharp teeth. They were hunched over and dragging their claws along the ground, cutting lines into the cement flooring.

    “Do you need help!?” Jenkins shouted as he performed his ritual.

    He heard the sound of two shotgun blasts and something else he wasn’t sure how to describe. A quick glance gave him all the info he needed: two raven demon corpses on the ground and the Emissary physically beating the third with his shotgun.

    Jenkins finished the ritual and the hole sealed itself shut, cement cracking back into place. A raven imp squealed with panic as it rushed over to where the hole had been. It began scratching at the floor frantically before the Emissary’s boot crushed its spine. Jenkins averted his eyes as it was finished and looked back to see the Emissary holding the beak in his hand: a new weapon.

    There was a crash from the kitchen and before Jenkins could say anything, the Emissary leapt onto the stairs and rushed up there. Jenkins quickly tried to follow behind him.

    “Please don’t destroy my house,” he silently pleaded.

    Jenkins came up the stairs to see the Emissary and the Queen locked in combat, hammering away at each other like drunk vikings. The raven beak was sticking out of her neck, but she just kept fighting. She looked like an old witch now, covered in raven feathers and wearing tattered clothing.

    The Queen tugged on his rope and he headbutted her immediately. She fell back onto the sink and he shouldered her in the ribs, also locking his arms around her. Then he suplexed her back into the hallway in front of Jenkins.

    Jenkins watched the Queen’s violent funeral play out. It ended with an explosion of feathers and the Emissary leaving, covered in blood.

    “Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Jenkins asked.

    “I’ll be fine. I feel my pentagram burning, there’s more demons to kill tonight.”

    And with that, he marched off into the night.

    Jenkins looked back the mess in his house and sighed. It was going to be a lot of cleaning, but he learned a hard and valuable lesson. A sense of ease washed over him as he realized the long plan of this Queen had been stopped and his wife avenged. Still, he longed to see her again, but she would have to wait. Then they’d have their one last dance.

[your-brother-crutchie]

Friend of a Friend

“Friend of a friend needs a place to stay before they get evicted.”

Please enjoy this long ass fic that I can’t be bothered to edit because I’m lazy and it’s late.

TW: Mentions of homophobic assault

Spot was busy crushing it at Splatoon when he heard the familiar persistent knocking at his door that usually told him that Davey had arrived. Sighing, he dropped his controller, knowing that that incessant rapping wouldn’t stop until he answered it and deciding to just abandon the group of people that he did not know, to cross the small studio apartment and let the boy in.

As soon as Spot opened the door, Davey launched into it, stepping forwards and passed him into the room, “Hey, so you know, my friend, Jack?” Davey sneered slightly as he looked around him, seeing the unwashed dishes in the sink and the unmade bed behind the lounge area.

Somehow, Spot had managed to wrangle the only studio apartment in his floor so that he was able to be private and secluded. He’d met Davey, another boy on his floor, but hadn’t made any effort to introduce himself to Davey’s friends. The only downside, however, was that studio apartments had two beds in them. Thankfully, though, it was unlikely, at this point in the year, that anyone would move into the halls so Spot was pretty safe.

Nodding briefly, Spot sighed and gestured to the room that Davey had already entered, “Sure, Dave, come on in!” Spot chuckled darkly, swinging the door shut and dropping onto the sofa in the middle of the room, “Yeah, I know of him. Why?”

Davey sighed, picking up a dirty sock that was draped over the back of the sofa and flinging it onto Spot’s bed before sitting himself beside him, “Right, well, his friend lives off-campus but he can’t get the rent anymore so he needs a place to stay before he gets evicted and, since you’re the only one with a spare bed, I told Jack that you’d take him.” He said all of this very quickly, jumbling words together in a way that should have put Spot off the scent.

A quick scoff left Spot as he stared at Davey, trying to figure out what made him think that that was at all acceptable. He didn’t want a roommate, especially one that he didn’t know. He enjoyed his privacy and he hadn’t even introduced himself to the four other people who lived on his floor. Shouldn’t that have been enough of a signal that Spot was not open to ‘making friends.’ He was, technically, allowed to use the kitchen in the common room and hang out in that living space but why would he when he had his own?

“Davey, are you kidding me? I don’t want a roommate!” Spot suddenly launched into action, leaning forwards and tensing his muscles. He knew that he couldn’t threaten Davey, he’d already tried but it would have been nice to be able to back out of this.

As he’d thought, Davey quickly shut him down on that option, “Spot, just don’t question this one, okay? He’s been through too much. It’s too late now, anyway, he’s moving in tomorrow. I’ll be bringing him here in the morning so please be ready.” Davey stared at Spot until he settled back against the sofa in resignation, realising that there would certainly be no budging him.

Spot rolled his eyes, folding his arms and grumbling to himself, “Fine, fuck.” He stood, striding over to the free bed and picking up some hoodies to throw into his wardrobe, “Happy?” A snarl resting on his features, Spot watched Davey as he pulled himself upwards with a sigh.

Nodding, Davey rubbed at his face before heading towards the door, “Peachy. Right, I’ve got to go but, please, be nice to him and tidy up in here.” Opening the door to let himself out, Davey glanced around the room before throwing Spot one last pointed glare and pulling the door closed behind him after returning Spot’s brief wave as a distracted goodbye.

Leaping awake, Spot flung himself upwards as soon as he heard the violent banging on the other side of his door. He sighed, looking around at the tidy studio flat that didn’t even look like it belonged to him anymore and rolling his eyes as soon as he heard Davey’s raised voice, “Fuck’s sake, Spot, I told you I was dropping him off yesterday!”

Spot hauled himself upwards and staggered over towards the door, forgetting to get a t-shirt on his way over and swinging it open before remembering that he was only dressed in sweatpants.

He looked up to see Davey, rolling his eyes as he took in his appearance. Davey was acclimated to Spot greeting him at the door only half-clothed but the boy next to him obviously wasn’t. When Spot glanced across at him, he noticed that the boy was blushing furiously, looking anywhere else as he fiddled with the handle of his pitifully small suitcase.

“Spot, this is Race.” Davey sighed when he realised that Spot wasn’t planning on introducing himself, obviously realising that this was as much of a bad idea as he’d probably expected it to be.

Running his eyes over Race quickly, Spot looked him over before shrugging, trying to keep his quiet approval to himself. At least he was nice to look at. Davey could have dropped someone far worse on him. He looked back up to Davey, sighing when he saw the look on his face and stepping out of the way of the doorframe.

Davey pushed Race forwards gently, taking his suitcase from him and walking him passed Spot and into the room, “I assure you, he’s just always this prickly. It’s not you.” He set Race’s bag down on the freshly made spare bed, nodding in approval as he registered that Spot had tidied up like he’d asked him to. Spot might not have wanted a roommate, but he didn’t want first impressions to show him as a slob, even if he was a bit of one.

The only thing that Spot had forgotten to clean was Race’s nightstand, so Davey swept his general clutter onto the floor with a quick tut. He turned back to Race, who was stood stiffly and awkwardly in the living area, Spot behind him, “Okay, Race, I have to pick Les up from school but I’ll drop by later to make sure you’re settling in and help you unpack.” Davey reached out and led Race carefully by the elbow, as if he was delicate, forwards and over to the bed.

Spot frowned slightly, not understanding the light movements and also thinking over what about what Davey had said was troubling him. It struck him as Davey was almost out of the door, making him swivel to catch him before he left, “Wait, is this a permanent thing now? We’re in halls, he can’t just stay here indefinitely!”

A dangerous glare quickly filled Davey’s face as he tugged on Spot harshly, bringing him out into the hallway and closing the door behind him, “He can because he goes here, too. We spoke to the hall manager and he’s alright with it. What did I tell you about being nice to him?” He shoved Spot backwards lightly, obviously trying to make him realise just how serious he was about this.

“I didn’t know this was forever! I didn’t even have a choice!” Spot tensed his muscles, pulling up and trying to make himself look taller, despite him still being almost a foot taller than him.

Shaking his head in disappointment, Davey turned to walk away and out of their section of the floor, calling over his shoulder, “Too late now.”

Spot scoffed, watching as the boy held his hand up to wave briefly to Spot, never once turning back around to face him. He sighed, rolling his eyes and collecting himself before turning back inside the flat. Race was sitting quietly on the edge of his bed, obviously trying to make himself small as he fiddled nervously with his suitcase.

As he sneered gently to himself, Spot trudged back over to his bed before falling into it and burrowing under the covers, deciding to just go back to sleep and deal with the tense atmosphere when he was actually awake.

A couple of hours later, Spot woke up to a much gentler knocking at his door, yawning and pulling a t-shirt over his head this time. On his trek to the door, he noticed that Race was completely swaddled in his blankets, sleeping and and cocooned almost completely, with his duvet tucked tightly around his body.

Shaking his head in annoyance, Spot turned the handle and pulled the door open to see Davey, “Oh look, it’s you.” He huffed, stepping back into the apartment and letting Davey follow him, “He’s asleep.”

Davey glanced at Race before turning on Spot with a hushed whisper, “What did you do?” He turned Spot by the arm, making him look at him and shake his head at the questioning glare on Davey’s face. Sometimes, just occasionally, Spot wasn’t the root of the problem.

“Nothing! I was asleep and, when I woke up, he was asleep!” Scoffing, Spot dropped onto the sofa, peering over the back of it so that he could watch as Davey looked nervously at the curly-haired boy in his spare bed. Sorry, in his own bed. Spot didn’t have a spare bed anymore because he had a roommate and he had to deal with  another human living with him.

Turning around the sofa and sitting next to Spot cautiously, Davey pursed his lips as he turned back to him, “Why’s he frowning?” He tilted his head in Race’s direction, making Spot look over to see the furrowed lines in his forehead and how he was knitting his eyebrows together.

A shrug rolled across Spot’s shoulders as he gave up, falling back against the sofa and not bothering to watch Race anymore, “I don’t know! Why’s he made a cocoon?” He sighed, reaching across to shove at Davey but looking up when he caught his arm.

Davey looked serious now, really, properly serious, so he sat up slightly to actually listen to what he had to say, “Because he sold most of his stuff for last month’s rent and has been sleeping on a bare, lumpy mattress on the floor until today. Don’t ask what else he had to do for money, I can’t even say it.” His voice broke slightly, making Spot realise that he was completely serious and feel a small twinge in his chest as he glanced nervously back over at Race’s sleeping frame.

“. . . Oh. I didn’t realise it was that bad.” Spot’s mouth fell open slightly as he realised why Davey hadn’t given him a decision, feeling terrible for ever wanting rid of him. He looked back to Race, for the first time really seeing just how defeated he looked. Race looked like he’d been through a lifetime of shit, beaten down and broken and barely able to hold himself upright anymore. Spot barely knew him but he was certain, especially from how Davey cared for the boy, that he didn’t deserve any of it.

Nodding with a sad smile, Davey quickly caught himself and sneered slightly, hardening his expression as he rubbed at his nose, sniffing discreetly, “Well, yeah, it is, so just be nice to him, for fuck’s sake.”

Spot blinked at his language, not really knowing what he’d done to deserve it. Davey only swore when he had reason to. It wasn’t that he was against people using profanities, he just personally didn’t use them a lot, “Davey, Jesus, what’s up with you?” He chuckled softly, quickly stopping himself though as the taller boy dropped his head into his hands.

His voice beginning to raise slightly, it was obvious that Davey was mad about something as he snarled before wiping his hands down his face, “Not love for Jesus, that’s part of it!” When Race stirred slightly, he bit down on his lip and sighed until his body language was much calmer, “Sorry. Les is being bullied at school because he wouldn’t pray with the other kids.” He breathed out shakily, wiping at his eyes as he curled himself up on the sofa and rested against the back of it.

Blowing air out between his parted lips, Spot shook his head as he struggled not to become angry himself. He hated children precisely for the reason that they could be cruel and mean but Davey’s little brother had always been an exception, “Shit, man. That’s hard. Is he okay?”

Davey shook his head slightly, shrugging and sniffing harshly, “I don’t know, he won’t even talk to me about it. The headteacher won’t do anything about it.” He looked up at Spot with a sad smile, looking almost as defeated as Race in that moment.

“Do I need to beat up some children?” Spot’s offer, although he knew it was ludicrous, was partly serious. He’d never actually do it but, if they were his age, there would have been nothing stopping him. He wouldn’t have even asked for Davey’s consent. Spot would not suffer bullies.

Narrowing his eyes and knitting his eyebrows together, Davey shook his head slightly as he did his best not to chuckle, “Uhhh- maybe never say that again if you don’t want to go to jail?” He scoffed, smiling slightly as Spot nodded, “Good. Look, I’ll come back in another hour. Don’t wake him up.” Davey stood, sighing and rubbing at his eyes, flashing one last look at Race before turning and leaving.

It was another half an hour before Race woke up, stirring gently before sitting upright and rubbing at his eyes. He jumped slightly when he looked up to see Spot looking at him, pulling the duvet closer around his body, despite the fact that Spot had scanned the room for clothes and realised that Race had fallen asleep in his t-shirt and jeans from earlier. At first, he’d thought that it couldn’t be comfortable before remembering what Davey had said about where Race had been staying. It must have been more comfortable than that.

“Hey.” Spot offered him a small smile, trying to appear a little friendly, or at least somewhat warmer than he’d come off as that morning. Since Davey had told him what Race had been through, Spot felt awful about ever considering being so cold towards him that it would make him leave. Which he really had considered . . . A lot.

Running his eyes over Spot once, the corner of Race’s lip tugged itself upwards minutely before falling back into place again, “ . . . Hi.” He ran his hands over his face, sighing as he pulled himself to his feet and looked around him properly for the first time. He huffed once in amusement when he saw Spot’s band posters, focussing on them and trying to pick out ones that he liked.

Spot couldn’t hide his bright smile as he realised that they had something in common. This didn’t have to be as painful as he’d expected it to be! He came over to join Race, seeing him studying his As It Is poster, “They’re my favourite band! Look, I’m sorry I was harsh earlier, I was tired. You can stay for as long as you like; whether that’s for the rest of the school year or until you can find something, that’s up to you.” When Race turned to look at him, Spot smiled, trying his best to appear approachable.

He froze, however, when Race teared up slightly. Panic flooded his mind as he realised that he didn’t know what to do but quickly settled when he saw Race’s wide smile, “Thank you.” What shocked Spot the most was that Race lunged forward to hug him. Spot didn’t like physical contact; that was what he told everyone. What he didn’t tell anyone was that, although he wasn’t particularly used to a lot of it, he craved it.

Settling quickly into the hug, Spot relaxed as he held tightly onto Race, already sensing that he was the kind of person that also craved physical reassurance. He found himself drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, breathing in the smell of ginger and lemon coming from Race’s hair and realising that he really didn’t mind it.

The next time something strange happened was almost a whole year later. Spot and Race had become almost ridiculously close. They did everything together and when the university had asked if anyone wanted to share rooms next year, despite there being no reason to anymore, they’d signed up together almost immediately.

Spot had been out with Hawk, a boy that he’d managed to make friends with on his course, with some prompting from Race to make more friends. They’d asked if Race wanted to go with them but he’d said that he was busy working on papers, which was fair enough. He was always shutting himself away these days, or at least for the last week or two. Spot could barely get him to leave the flat and sit in the common area with their friends from their floor (Race had also told him that he needed to make friends with everyone else, so Spot was now friends with Jack, Crutchie, Katherine and Sarah and occasionally used the communal kitchen just to hang out with them).

When Spot returned early, he knew something was deeply wrong as soon as he pushed the door open. He couldn’t see Race but he could hear him and he could hear that he was crying.

Pressing on further into the room, Spot glanced around until he found Race, collapsed in a heap and sobbing on the floor of the kitchenette, “Race?!” Spot rushed over, dropping down quickly and reached out gingerly to see if he could touch him. Often, Race loved being hugged, especially when he wasn’t feeling too great. Occasionally, however, Race wanted Spot nowhere near him. He didn’t know why, he just knew that he did. Race quickly shoved him away, only crying harder as he bundled himself into a tighter ball, “Race, what’s up? What is it?”

Although Race didn’t want to say anything, Spot eventually managed to calm him down enough for him to sit, dead behind the eyes, and tell him what was wrong, “I’m sorry, it’s just- uhm. Fuck. It- it’s a year since- si-ince my brother d- die- died.” Race’s words tripped over each other on their way out, making Spot’s face fall further as he pieced together the timing and why Race had had to move in with him.

“God, Race, I’m so sorry, that’s awful . . . How did he-?” Spot wasn’t sure if he could say it. Not just because it was a horrific thing to have happened but because it was still affecting Race like this. This horrible, ugly crying was caused by some horrible tragedy that shouldn’t have happened, whatever it was, and Spot felt awful even mentioning it, whether he’d goaded Race to tell him or not. He shouldn’t have even asked how it had happened but Spot had a morbid curiosity.

Race sighed, the sobbing slow and more like strangled chokes every so often now. He sniffed, rubbing harshly at his eyes and blinking rapidly, before beginning to explain, “They- uh, they called it a m- mug-ging gone wr- wrong. He- he used to- t- to work so that was how we- we paid the rent. We don’t sp- speak to our parents. When he died, though, they- they took all of the mon-ey he’d saved for us so I had noth- nothing.”

Heart breaking for Race, Spot struggled to hold up his own tough-guy exterior as he watched his roommate crying. He hadn’t missed the way that Race still talked about him in the present tense, even though it had been a whole year. What Race had said about his parents made him physically angry. It made him shake and snarl and want to find them so that he could knock a bit of decency into their thick skulls, “No offence but your parents are fucking arseholes!” He quickly noticed that he was clenching his fist too tightly, releasing his hand and shaking it out as he winced at the sight of the angry little crescents his nails had left.

Nodding, Race sniffed with mock amusement, as if shocked that Spot would think that he might actually be offended by that, “Yeah. You’re right.” He shrugged lightly, more resigned in his sadness than actually sobbing now. There was anger there, deep-rooted anger buried beneath his skin but that was likely to be there for the rest of his life. Spot had never noticed it before but, looking back, it had always been there. Race had always been rundown and exhausted and broken but, underneath it all, he’d always been angry,

“If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you speak to them?” Spot knew that he was treading in uneven waters as he pushed for answers, feeling that he couldn’t properly understand if he didn’t know. However, he knew that Race was just as likely to bite his head off as he was to answer him.

Race glanced across at him, an incredulous expression filling his features as he scoffed, “Because they’re arseholes? Homophobic arseholes.” Spot knew that he didn’t talk to them already, that wasn’t new information. After all, he’d stayed in their room over Christmas break. He’d told Spot that he was leaving to be with his family after him but Spot had come back a day before Christmas to pick something up and found Race still there. He hadn’t asked questions, he’d just taken him home with him for Christmas. His mum hadn’t minded; if anything, she was just happy that Spot finally had a close friend.

The information that Race’s parents were homophobic, however, hit Spot hard, “He was gay?” He figured that it must have been the brother. He must have run away with Race to be free of them and that must have been why he was targeted and why Race had chosen to use the words, ‘they called it.’ Spot had known that it sounded like Race disagreed.

Shaking his head, Race dropped his chin down so that he could hide his face slightly from Spot, “No.” His breath left in a shudder as Race snapped his neck back upright and tried to glance in any direction other than Spot’s.

“What?” Spot narrowed his eyes slightly as he questioned him. He’d been so sure that he was right. After all, he’d had known if Race was gay, they’d shared a room for a year. He would have said something. It wasn’t like Spot talked about his own sexuality at all but Race was a more open person than he was.

Race sighed, letting his head fall into his hands before mumbling the answer into them, “ . . . I’m gay . . . It should have been me.”

His horrified feeling only growing, Spot shook his head quickly and took Race’s face to make him look at him, glad that he didn’t yank himself away this time, “What? No! Absolutely not; it shouldn’t have been you because it shouldn’t have been anyone.” He felt his own eyes beginning to go hot and decided, just for once, he’d let himself be a little emotional. His best friend was telling about how he wished he’d died instead, Spot couldn’t sit stoically through that.

Tugging his chin away carefully, Race finally allowed his body to fall against where Spot was sat beside him, “ . . . They called it a mugging because they didn’t know what to do with the fact that the boys from college thought that Matti was me.”

“What?” Spot’s jaw dropped open, eyes burning as he looked down at where Race was resting against him. He couldn’t believe, not only that the people who’d done it were from their university, but that they’d been after Race. Anyone might have said that he’d got lucky but it didn’t sound like he had.

A sad smile lifted Race’s face for a moment before his attempt buckled. He scrunched his nose up, raising his hands to cover his face as he began to cry once again, “They were targeting me, they just got it wrong. We’re twins- identical.” Race’s crying filled the space once again, his sadness flowing from his chest and draping itself over everything in the room.

Spot let out a shaky breath, struggling to keep it together through Race’s waves of grief flooding over him, “Fuck, Race, that’s awful! I’m so sorry . . . What happened to the boys?” He came back for the question with a quiet tentativeness to his voice, not wanting to upset him but needing to know if he still interacted with them.

“Jail. Hopefully for the rest of their fucking lives.” Race’s anger was there again, bubbling and coming to the surface though still living under his skin. It would never be leaving him and that was quite clear. He would be angry about Matti until he couldn’t feel anything anymore, “Though they are keeping quiet about it because ‘it could ruin their lives’ if they ever get out.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Spot was silent for a moment before speaking up carefully. He couldn’t believe that a court had decided that they had to preserve the integrity of a pair of murderers who’d targeted someone based on their own prejudice. Spot found Race’s hand, lacing their fingers together and breathing out gently, “ . . . Would I have known them?” Part of him didn’t want to know. What if it was someone he’d spoken with?

Race gripped onto Spot’s hand as if it were some sort of lifeline, squeezing his eyes closed and raising their hands to his face so that he could press his knuckle into the space between his eyebrows for comfort, “Do the Delanceys ring a bell?” He let out another horrible shuddering breath as Spot felt his own skin burning with that familiar anger.

He found that he had to let go of Race’s hand, worried that he would hurt him as he felt his fists clenching, “The Delanceys?! They’re on the football team!” He couldn’t even fathom how he’d ever shared a locker room with those people, disgusted that he’d ever been seen chatting with them.

“They were on the football team, what of it?” Race snarled, pulling himself upright and into a stiff and awkward position. He obviously wasn’t particularly interested in discussing them for long. They deserved none of his time and they especially did not deserve any of his time on the anniversary of the day they murdered his brother in an attempt to get him.

Spot’s disbelief echoed through his voice as he shook his head, struggling to keep himself composed and on topic, “I’m quarterback.”

Scoffing, Race snapped away from him, disdain flooding his features as he tensed every muscle, making Spot realise just how lanky he was. He was only an inch taller than him but he had long arms and legs and suddenly might have looked a little threatening if he wasn’t sat in front of Spot, “What’s this got to do with you?! What? You were on the football team with a pair of murderers, boo hoo! Matti is dead and I have to live with that!” He snarled, shoving at Spot violently when he tried to reach across and calm him.

“No, Race- let me explain. I’m bi. I don’t understand why they didn’t say anything to me about it? We were in the same locker room.” Spot shook his head slightly, trying to think of any time when the Delanceys may have showed any sign of bigotry towards him.

Race rolled his eyes, sighing and eventually relaxing back against the kitchen counter, “When was the last time you had a boyfriend?” Spot had a feeling that he understood where this was going.

Thinking back, Spot realised that he really hadn’t had a boyfriend for ages, only one-night hookups that had stopped as soon as Race moved in, “Gosh, years.” He knew where Race was going. This was about visibility. Spot hadn’t had a boyfriend in years, he’d even had a girlfriend or two. He was the quarterback of the college football team and didn’t appear effeminate. If the Delanceys didn’t know, what would they do?

Holding a hand up and giving a pointed nod, Race pressed his lips into a thin line, “Exactly. You don’t ‘look’ gay. They probably didn’t know. Of course, the weird kid who kisses boys on the common is a fair target. Quarterback built like a house is a bit tougher, even if they did know.”

They fell silent for a few minutes as Spot mulled this over, sighing in relief when Race leaned back against him. He eventually turned over onto something that he’d never really forgotten, “ . . . Race, can I ask you something?”

“What?” Looking down at Race made Spot realise just how tired he always was. That little burst of passion about something had exhausted him to the point of slumping against Spot’s shoulder as if he’d just run five marathons. He looked like he’d been through hell and it sounded like it, too.

Spot smiled sadly, letting his arm drape comfortingly around him, “When Davey first brought you here, he said you’d been selling furniture for rent money.” This had been eating at him for months. Occasionally he forgot about it but it never truly went away. It always ate at the back of Spot’s mind, burning when he least expected it to and stopping him from doing anything. When Race nodded for him to continue, Spot sighed, gathering himself before potentially getting himself slapped, “He also said not to ask what else you’d had to do. He said it was so bad that he couldn’t even say it.”

Race was silent, not answering Spot as he glanced down at him, waiting to see if he would say anything, “Race, what is it?” He had a feeling that it was truly as horrible as he’d feared but Spot couldn’t go another day just worrying about him. He needed to know.

Hearing a sniffle, Spot glanced down once more and realised that Race had started crying again, “I- uh. I sold myself.” He let his head fall, obviously horribly ashamed as he turned his face into Spot’s shirt to hide from him.

“Oh, Race.” All of a sudden, Spot was reminded of the first time that he went out with Race. It wasn’t long after Race had moved in in, Spot had dragged him out with Davey and his friends and they went to a club.

Race hadn’t wanted to go to that particular club but they hadn’t listened, making him go anyway. Spot had been getting a drink when he’d turned around to see a man sidling closer to Race. They were arguing and Race was obviously trying to tell him to leave him alone but he wouldn’t listen. The thing that struck him as strange was when the man had slapped some money down onto the table and tried to pull him away with him.

This flared as a warning sign to Spot immediately and he’d strode over there to make the man leave him alone. He’d eventually turned away but Race had looked very distressed for the rest of the evening.

Spot hated the idea of Race ever having to go through anything like that. He was his best friend and he deserved so much better. Race was a wonderful person with a heart of gold who’d been through so much shit and still hadn’t let it shape him. He knew that Race was perfectly capable of protecting himself but, in that moment, Spot vowed that he would protect him from as much shit as possible.

[seventeen-central]

An Ocean Apart- Wonwoo Angst

Request: Hey can i request a wonwoo imagine about a long distance relationship. The girl is an overseas college student in america (currently taking international relations) and wonwoo's an idol so they barely have any time for each other. Thanks

Word Count:1.6 k

Group/Member: Wonwoo of SVT

Summary: Long distance relationships are not like how they are portrayed in the movies, but you found this out the hard way.

Author: Admin Cloud

A/N: I’m really sorry I have not been posting, guys. Band camp is getting super intense and I just never have any free time that can be filled with writing. Please, just stay with me and I promise I will try to post at least once a month!

 “I promise I’ll call you when I land, now I have to go Wonwoo!” You tried to pull your sleeve from Wonwoo’s firm grip for the hundredth time.

 “Just let me have one last hug, Jagi...” He pulled you into his broad shoulders, using his chin to tuck your face into his chest. You felt him inhale; the sweet, floral scent of your perfume filling his nostrils as he tried to memorize the way you smelled.

 “Flight 206 to Boston, Massachusetts is boarding now. Passengers, please head to the entrance with your boarding pass ready.”

 Stiffening in Wonwoo’s arms, you forced your unsteady voice to leave your throat as you attempted to push away from him. 

 “I love you, Wonwoo. See you soon, Babe.” Your voice shook, but you blinked back tears and grabbed the handle of your luggage before planting a soft kiss on Wonwoo’s waiting lips. 

 He was quiet as you turned towards the gate and walked through the cramped doorway, only letting a small sigh out of his mouth before regaining his composure and beginning to somberly walk out of the airport.

 “Andddd... this is my dorm room!” You held up your laptop to the best of your ability so that Wonwoo could see your new home. “I’m alone at the moment, but my roommate should be home in an hour or so to show me around campus.”

 “What is it like in the US of A?” Wonwoo chuckled, pausing to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Does everybody have trucks and shotguns?”

 “Surprisingly, no. Everybody seems pretty nice, and a group of my classmates even volunteered to help me take my luggage up to the dorm.”

 Wonwoo nodded before releasing a drawn out yawn. His body was slumped over a pillow with his head daintily resting on his right hand. “I miss you already, Baby.”

 “I know, I miss you too Wonu~ Just wait for me, I’ll be home by Christmas.” The smile you put on your face was obviously fake, but you didn’t want Wonwoo to witness how truly vulnerable you felt in this strange new country. “I guess I’ll let you sleep now. I love you, Babe.”

 Wonwoo repeated your words in a jumbled mess of words before pressing the ‘End Call’ button, leaving you on your own once again.

 Well, I guess I better get used to sleepy Skype calls...

 “Hey, Y/N, let’s go to that Frat party tonight!” Lily, a girl you had met in your Foreign Studies class, bounded through the front door and fell onto your couch. “I wanna meet some cute boys, and it’s not like you have any homework left since finals just ended.”

 Chewing on the eraser of your pencil, you nervously weighed out your options; You could go to the party and socialize, or you could have a Skype date with Wonwoo. Lily’s offer was appealing, but you knew that you would have to take any opportunity available to speak with your boyfriend.

 “Sorry, I have plans for the evening. Maybe I’ll go bar hopping with you next week, though.” Lily pouted, before sulking towards the door and heading back to her dorm. 

 5:00 PM. Yawning, you reached your arms over your head and looked at your outstretched hands. They would look a lot more normal if Wonwoo were here holding them in his...

 Seething did not even begin to describe how upset you were. It was nearly midnight, and Wonwoo had not even sent you a text to say whether he would still call you or not. Deciding that enough was enough, you led the mouse across your laptop, quickly finding Wonwoo’s Skype and clicking the ‘call’ button.

 It rang for a few moments, before a buffering symbol alerted you that he had accepted your call. You expected to see Wonwoo’s face, but you were instead greeted by a smiling Seungkwan that was angling the webcam towards eleven other boys. Wonwoo was clearly not among the group, causing you to wonder where in the world your recently absent boyfriend was.

 “Hey, Y/N! We haven’t seen you in forever!” The boys hummed in agreement and waved towards the camera. “Why are you calling us?”

 “Well, Wonwoo and I were supposed to have a Skype date but he never called me. I was just wondering if he had forgotten about it or if his internet wasn’t working, but that is clearly not the case considering you were able to answer. Where is he?” Seungkwan glanced nervously at the boys, and you felt pressure beginning to build up in your chest. “He is with you guys, isn’t he?”

 “Well, you see... Wonwoo is out eating lunch with the Stylist-noona’s. There is nothing going on, though! He just wanted to take them out to celebrate the end of promotions!”

 Your face must have visibly darkened, as the boys seemed to thinking very hard about what to say next.

 “We haven’t heard about how you are doing in school yet, Y/N. You aren’t failing any classes, are you?” Jeonghan launched into his motherly-instinct driven conversation, effectively changing the subject to something lighter.

 “Oh, you would not believe the week I have had...”

 Wonwoo ruffled his hair, slipping his shoes off with ease.

 “I brought leftovers if anybody wants something to eat!” As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, twelve pairs of eyes burned into his head. 

 “Why didn’t you call Y/N?” A chill passed through Wonwoo’s spine, emphasizing the guilt that was now gnawing at his stomach.

 “Oh god, that was today! I forgot about it completely. I’ll go call her now.” He sprinted to his room, patting his pockets in search of his phone. He clicked the phone application, and patiently waited to hear your voice signal that both of your phone lines had connected.

 “Hey, this is Y/N. I can’t make it to the phone right now, so leave a message after the beep and I’ll be sure to call you back if I care enough!” beep.

 “Oh, um... it’s me. I mean, it’s Wonwoo. I’m super sorry that I forgot about our Skype date. I promise, I will make it up to you. Call me back soon, baby.” He clicked the red button, dropping his phone onto the empty side of his mattress.

 After hearing the message Wonwoo had left on your phone, you felt the need to call him back as soon as possible. You dialed his number, and the phone only rang a single time before your boyfriend’s anxious voice broke through the obnoxious sound.

 “Y/N? I’m sorry-”

 “Look, Wonwoo, this hurts me a lot but I really need to say it. This, us- it’s just not working. We never talk, and I feel lonely all the time. Do you know how hard it is to see other couples at the campus Christmas parties and have to go back to my dorm while avoiding my roommates and their boyfriends?” The sound of sniffling arose from your side of the line, making Wonwoo’s ears perk at the hint of sadness that was lacing itself through your voice.

 “Y/N, I’ll try harder, I promise. I can’t live without you, baby. I can get you a plane ticket to come back for a bit, and we can make this work.”

 “Wonwoo, we are not breaking up, this is just me taking some time to myself. Just... let me breath!” You sobbed, hanging up the phone and sliding down the edge of your bed onto the carpet.

 You glanced out the window, watching small snowflakes form large hills on the ground outside. The dorm was empty besides you, so you had spent the evening watching old Christmas movies and drinking hot chocolate. What a way to spend the holidays; alone and sad...

 A knock on the door interrupted your bout of self-loathing, causing you to rise from the couch and slip on your fuzzy slippers before going to open the door. The doorknob was freezing when you touched it, but you pushed onwards nonetheless. On the porch sat a large box with a single rose on top. 

 “Hello?” Nobody answered your yell, so you simply shrugged and went to go pick up the box. It was surprisingly heavy, and you quickly realized it would be smarter to open it up on the porch and move it in little by little. You stepped back inside to grab a knife and quickly returned to unseal the top of the large vessel. 

 When you pulled up the cardboard flaps, it was revealed that the box held... two suitcases? A bright green tag was tied around the larger suitcase’s handle, so you turned it over to see what information you could gather. ‘Look up.’

 You peered up into the distance, instantly noticing the familiar brown head of hair that was now sticking up from a pile of snow.

 “Wonwoo?” You shook lightly, partially from cold and shock, before dropping the rose and running towards your loving boyfriend.

 “It’s me, Jagiya. I couldn’t leave you alone this Christmas, especially considering that you have the part of my heart I need to be happy.” He laughed as happy tears ran from your cheeks onto his shoulders.

 “Thank you, Wonwoo. I love you so much!” He rubbed your shoulder, providing warmth to your smaller body as the two of you made your way inside the dorm.

[kiminicricket]

Captured part 3

ok so I’ve been fidgeting with this for weeks and decided to just go ahead and post because i’m frustrating myself so sorry for the long delay and i hope you enjoy...

Part 1 // Part 2

Lorcan paced furiously outside the tent, throwing glaring glances at Manon every few steps. The calm face that the witch currently wore was eerie. Made more so when compared to the flying rage she had been in only moments ago, nails and teeth out, demanding that Yrene remove ‘that abomination’ from Elide and immediately. Yrene had calmly faced her down, ordering everyone out except her assistant so she could work in peace, including Lorcan, leaving him out here, pacing in the mud, waiting for a verdict. And he was not a patient male. He would still be in there with Elide if not for Manon. He threw her another dirty look. Manon glanced up, meeting his scathing stare, and bared her teeth at him. He snarled back at her when Yrene came out of the tent. Both of their attention snapped towards the healer. “Elide is resting. You may see her, but you need to stay calm and quiet.” “How is she? Is she awake?” “Did you get it out?” “Is she going to be ok?” “What was that thing?” Lorcan’s and Manon’s questions spilled over each other in a jumble. Yrene held her hands up, halting their rapidfire questions and led them to the tent. She held it open. “I’ll explain everything inside. She’s awake, and asking for you.” The both straightened, glancing at each other. “Both of you.” Yrene gestured them inside. They sprang forward, eager to see how Elide was faring. Manon paused when she saw her, resting, but still huge. She turned to Yrene, growling. “I told you to get it out!” her voice was low and threatening. Lorcan ignored the two, rounded the other side of the bed and grabbed Elide’s hand. She turned groggy eyes on him but smiled. “You came for me.” She whispered. Lorcan squeezed her hand. “Of course I did. I made you a promise.” “I will always find you.” her eyes fluttered closed and Lorcan raised her hand to kiss it before turning his attention to Manon and Yrene. “… to tell me more about the implants that your witches received.” Yrene was saying. Manon bristled, gesturing to Elide, “You have one right here, just get it out and find out what you need to once she’s safe!” Yrene shook her head, “You said that those things were pure evil, that they were born bad, no hope of redemption, no hope of turning them to good.” Manon raised an eyebrow, waiting for Yrene to continue. “This thing that Elide carries, while it is not exactly compatible with her, it is not pure evil.” “but it is still part evil?” Manon asked flatly. “What is the issue then? Yrene pursed her lips. “All things are born with the capacity for good and evil.” “Not everything.” Yrene sighed, but conceded, “No, I’m sure the implants your witches received were evil, especially since they came from Erawan. But this didn’t. It couldn’t have, Aelin and Rowan took care of him!” “Well what is it then? And why did that scum implant her if not to somehow retaliate?” “I’m not sure. She’s not too far from delivery though.” “Will she survive the delivery?” “All going well, yes.” “And if all does not go well?” Lorcan was very impressed with Yrene’s calm, especially in the face of an angry irontooth. “There is always a chance, even with normal pregnancies, of something going wrong Manon. There is just as much danger at this point - possibly even more - if we extract it.” Manon paused, glancing over at Elide before shaking her head. “I’ve seen this before. That thing needs to come out of her. And now!” “I think Elide needs to hear her options first.” The two turned to Elide, who was again sleeping thanks to the painkiller that Yrene had given her. “When she wakes up again.” Manon conceded.

Elide felt something shift inside her and she woke up. Disorientated, she looked around. It was dark. Manon was draped over a chair in the corner, Lorcan was resting his head on his forearms on the side of her bed, looking strangely peaceful as he slept. She smiled down at him. It didn’t look comfortable at all. She was safe again, except for her stomach, still extended despite the pain thankfully being gone. She glanced over at Manon hoping for an explanation, but the witch was sleeping peacefully. Elide had seen how little Manon usually slept and thought best not to wake her. She watched Lorcan for a moment, his dark hair falling over his face. She reached out to smooth some of the strands back behind his ear. He stirred at the contact, glancing around the room and looking up at her.  “How are you feeling?” Physically, fine, but there was the small question of the monster still being inside of her. She opened her mouth and tried to speak. The words didn’t come. Elide blinked in confusion and tried again. Still nothing. “It’s ok, that’s probably the pain tonic that Yrene gave you.” Lorcan assured her, taking one of her hands in his own. “Take your time.” She tried again, focusing on each word as it came out. “Why is it still inside me?” she managed to whisper, the words slow and slightly slurred. Lorcan’s eyes darkened. “Is it hurting you?” Elide paused to consider. She was tired and groggy and achy, but the agony was gone she could concentrate on things other than the pain. Realising Lorcan was still waiting for an answer, she shook her head. But pain or no pain… “I thought you were… getting it out…” Lorcan nodded, “I know. I was. We will, if you still want that.” Elide shot him a look – why wouldn’t she want that? Lorcan shifted, glancing up as though looking for someone before sighing. “Apparently, it’s not demon spawn. And Yrene said...” Lorcan was still talking about whatever else Yrene had said, but Elide was no longer listening. Not demon spawn? How was that possible? What else could it be? “What is it?” she placed a tentative hand on her stomach and felt it move inside of her again, reacting to her touch. Panic clawed at her, but she forced herself to remain calm – to hear Lorcan out. “They don’t really know. But evidently, it’s not evil.” Elide stared at her stomach for a long time, letting his words and all the possible meanings wash over her. Not evil. The thing she had been implanted with was not evil. Not the same as what the witches had endured. But why had it been so painful? Why had her uncle implanted it if not to try to rebuild the remnants of that wicked army? Eventually she felt Lorcan shift. “I can go get Yrene.” The healer, who would be able to explain everything. Lorcan stood up, but Elide kept a hold of his hand. As much as she wanted answers, she couldn’t bear to be alone right now. Manon was in the corner, but she was asleep. Lorcan bent over her, scanning her face. “What’s wrong?” She shook her head, shrugging and looking away. “I just didn’t want you to go.”

Part 4 will come soon... ish... :D

[lilithhawthorne]

Title: Blood of the Brotherhood Fandom: Mass Effect: Andromeda  Relationship: Sara Ryder x Jaal Rating: M Chapter: 2/? Fandom: ME:A Cross posted on A03 / FFN First // Previous / Next

Huge shout out to @thesassblr for editing and helping to turn some of my weird sentences into real words! 

Snippets of conversation invaded her dreams.

“This is not going as planned.”

She was lost in a cave, or maybe it was a never ending series of tunnels designed to keep her angry and confused. The floor was slick and spotted with puddles, making it difficult for her to keep her footing. The sounds of her feet sloshing as she searched for a way out echoed all around her.

“It was a bad plan to begin with.”

Should she go left or right? Hadn’t she been down this tunnel before? It was dark and she was cold. Her suit had been stripped away piece by piece, leaving her shivering in her thin, Initiative issued uniform. Out of the corner of her eye she tracked the movement of her crew as they followed her. They ghosted through walls or fell through the ground if she tried to reach out to them.

“I told you this was a bad fucking idea,” Liam said. His lips moved out of synch and he smiled.

“And I told you to stand down! If she dies, I swear…“ she couldn’t understand what else Drack meant to say, his words trailing off into a series of elaborate threats.

“She’s not going to die. Thankfully you’re a terrible shot, but you all are driving me mad. I’ll call you as soon as she wakes.” Lexi tapped away at her data pad, not bothering to look up. “That’s it, Ryder,” she cooed, “you’ll be just fine, just fine….”

Darkness and silence welcomed her back into their midst.

Ryder raised a hand to block the light shining in her face.

“Aaaaand she’s awake! Easy now - here, let me help you up.” Rough, cold hands slipped under her arm, helping her to sit up despite the cramp that numbed her right side.

It took a moment for her to adjust to the light, and sitting up straight was a stomach clenching experience in nausea. She counted footsteps as they receded, trying to pull herself out of a fog that clouded every sense. Once the world stopped spinning and she could think beyond her rolling stomach, she assessed her surroundings with a shrewd eye.

First, she noticed how small the room was; crates and boxes were stacked all the way to the ceiling, with some tipped on their side to fill every inch of space. It was an organized mess, everything arranged specifically to leave the center of the room clear.

Second, she noticed the door, only a few strides away from the foot of the cot she was sitting on. The light was green, the hum of power flowing through it just barely audible in the silence.

Third, she noticed the smell and gagged immediately. Her already rolling stomach pitched in protest. It was a thick, ripe smell that was cloying in its overwhelming power. It reminded her of boot camp, about three weeks in, when the smell of everyone’s rank bodies had saturated itself into the walls of the bunker.

Someone laughed, a high pitched laugh that made Ryder think of a storybook princess. “I’m sorry, you’ll get used to it eventually. It always smells like that.”

Ryder swiveled her head to search for the owner of that musical laugh. She locked onto the tail end of a thick, blonde braid and followed it up to the source. A woman stood with only her profile visible, her face intently studying a terminal, her fingers moving tapping a rhythmic pace against the keyboard. Her foot tapped in tune to an unheard song.

Wearing her best stink eye, Ryder cleared her throat, hoping to warrant enough attention that the woman looked at her. All she got was a raised eyebrow and a slight head tilt. “I’m listening,” the woman assured her.

When sulking in the silence warranted no additional response, Ryder gave up and asked a neutral question: “Where am I?”

“You are in my office slash operating room slash med bay.” The woman laughed again and finally turned to face Ryder. Her cheeks and nose were red, like she had recently given them a good scrub and accidentally took a little more off than just dirt. And while her broad shoulders gave a hint of what she used to look like, she had long since withered away, her arms and legs too long and spindly, her collarbone prominently displayed in a loose fitting tank top.

Despite herself, Ryder found it easy to relax in the warmth of those brown eyes and couldn’t help but return the woman’s toothy smile.

Then she remembered the way Jaal’s voice cracked with anguish as he dove from cover, the look of rage on his face a fraction of a second before she felt the hot tendrils of pain.

More than just the memory of pain followed. Gasping for air, her lungs constricting, she struggled to keep from crying out. She ran her hands over her body, exploring her sides and lower back, trying to find a source of the pain.

“Oh, easy there!” The doctor pulled Ryder’s hands away, squeezing them in a grip that felt too strong for such a slender frame. “You’re okay… but I think the sedatives are wearing off. You were shot, do you remember?”

Ryder no longer trusted those eyes. She wrestled her hands free and shoved at the woman hard enough to send her to the ground. “Yeah I remember being shot!” she screeched, her pain and panic mingling to create a toxic feeling that ate away at her composure.

Not willing to lose the advantage, she rolled from the bed and stumbled towards the door. The doctor yelled something, her words too jumbled and rushed to make sense. It was either a plea for Ryder to come back or a plea for help.

“Open you piece of shit!” She pressed against the door, struggling as if she could push herself through solid metal if she only tried hard enough. As soon as there was a space big enough for her to get through she darted out, her knees and elbows banging against the edges of the door as she did. There would be time later to figure out where she was and what she needed to do. Right now she needed a place to hide.

“Not so fast, girly.”

Thick arms wrapped around her hips, her captor hoisting her in the air with not even a grunt to suggest it was difficult. She dug her nails into hairy forearms and braced her feet against the wall, pushing off with as much force as she could manage. Whoever was holding onto her tripped and fell backwards, but their grip was still tight enough that she went with them.

The sensation of skin tearing along her lower back startled her and she felt something warm soak into the fabric of her thin tee. She writhed and gnashed her teeth, clawing at her captor in another attempt to free herself.

“Stop!” The familiar voice of the doctor floated down the hall towards them, her plea almost drowned out by the sound of her feet clunking as she stumbled towards the struggling pair. “You’re going to hurt her Murphy, let her go.”

Murphy did as he was bid, though it was a not so friendly shove that sent her rolling to the ground. “Doc, she nearly broke my neck!” he whined as he climbed to his feet.

“Oh boo hoo,” Ryder mocked as she struggled to find her own footing, backing up to put distance between the two of them. “That’s what you get for grabbing me like that.”

“Oh yeah? Well that’s what ya get fo’ runnin’!”

“Oh, well, I guess that’s what you get for - “

“This conversation is over,” the doctor cut in, inserting herself physically between the two. Ryder had puffed her chest out to make herself look bigger, finally making use of her stink eye. Murphy, who was as thick as a Krogan and likely just as thorny, didn’t look too put out.

The doctor took the time to give them both a withering look before turning her back to Murphy, her focus softening as she looked Ryder up and down. “Did you feel your stitches rip?” she asked, an obvious hint of worry in her voice.

Stubborn and distrustful, Ryder crossed her arms over her chest and scuffed her foot against the ground. “No,” she lied. Like hell she was going to let that woman touch her again.

Clearly not fooled, the other woman merely tilted her head and offered another toothy grin. “That’s good. I was able to staunch the bleeding and we had enough medi-gel to spare that it healed almost completely. It just needed a little help.” She pressed two fingers together to mime skin knitting back together and winked.

“Waste, if ya ask me,” Murphy mumbled behind her.

That was a shared sentiment, although Ryder did a good job of looking offended by the assumption she was a waste. Medi-gel had made up a sizable percentage of packed medical supplies, but the goal had never been to bring enough to sustain the effort, only enough to see them through until they could make more planetside. With a different source of resources to draw from, the Andromeda quick fix gel was sadly lackluster when compared to its predecessor.

“Please, if you would,” the doctor took a step back and motioned for Ryder to follow. “Lonny is waiting for us. He will be able to answer your questions.”

Not waiting for Ryder’s response, the doctor turned on her heel and bustled down the hall, though she slowed down to give Murphy a playful pinch on his arm. As an afterthought she called over her shoulder, “My name is Lia but you can just call me Doc. Everyone does.”

Ryder considered her options. She could try to run again, but the pain in her back was quickly becoming more than a minor annoyance, and it was doubtful she would make it very far. Murphy might not be so gentle next time and he could easily squish her head between his massive, hairy knuckled hands.

On the other hand, she could follow through with the plan that had led her down this road to begin with. It would be in her best interest - both in the short term and if there was ever any hope of there being a long term - to con Lonny into thinking she would be willing to work with them. She started out after Lia, stopping briefly when she crossed paths with Murphy. “Don’t call me girly,” she snapped.

Murphy grunted, keeping his arms crossed and his head low.

Trailing after the fast walking doctor, she committed every turn they took and every door they passed to memory. They had yet to pass by a window, but the floors and walls were too quiet to be a ship, so she knew they had to be grounded.

Lia finally came to a halt and waited patiently for Ryder to catch up. “Now that we’re clear of Murphy, I should tell you that I know your stitches tore. Would you let me look at them, please?” She pulled something out of her pocket that looked like a syringe and balanced it on her open palm. “I only stitched you up because I needed to wait a few hours to administer another one of these, but it’s been long enough that I can give you a quick jab and be done.”

“Jab is a real unfriendly term, Doc,” Ryder said gruffly, her shoulders raised in agitation. “Is that the official medical vernacular?“ Why couldn’t this woman be a normal evil doctor, one that left her bleeding and hurt?  

“Out here it is.” Lia tossed her braid over a shoulder and took a step forward. When Ryder didn’t run or put up her hands for a fight, Lia motioned with fingers for her to spin around.

Ryder did as she was bid and rolled her shirt up to expose her back to an alleged doctor who was approaching with what she claimed to be a canister of medi-gel. Worst case scenario she got stabbed in the spine, but at least then all the confusion about her motives would be resolved.

“This is going to be cold.”

Ryder twitched when she felt Lia’s hand alight on her waist. “Your hands or the gel?”

Lia laughed apologetically while spreading a thin layer of gel over the puckered, angry looking wound. “Both, sorry. Well, that’s done then. You’ll have a scar, I think, but there was no internal bleeding. You’ll be sore for the next few days and you’ll need to - “

More aggressively than needed, Ryder spun around and tugged her shirt back down. She held out a hand to stop Lia and motioned to the door behind her with a jerk of her head. “I don’t need medical advice. Let’s get this over with.”

A flash of - discomfort? regret? Ryder couldn’t name it - crossed Lia’s features before disappearing behind an apple cheeked smile. "Of course. Let’s go see Lonny.”

Turning back towards the door, she pressed her hand against the screen of a terminal, tapping her foot again as she waited for the scan to complete. The door slid open and the two stepped over the threshold, each wearing a similar look of glum foreboding now that they thought the other couldn’t see.

This room at least didn’t smell as bad, though it featured worse company. The short man who had faced off against Ryder was seated at a desk, his deep set eyes already tracking Ryder’s movements towards him. There would be less confusion about his motives concerning her; a pistol took up a corner of desk space, his hands hands folded neatly next to it.

“Ryder,” he said, inclining his head to a chair across from him.

She took his direction and perched on the edge of her seat, feet flat on the ground, elbows on knees.

This room was small too, although poorly lit and nearly empty. Shadows darkened the corners and creeped into the pockets of space between two, waist high lamps. One side of Lonny’s face was dappled with shadows, the poor lighting emphasizing the sharp jut of his cheekbones. Ryder could see a nick over his lip, the only mar on his otherwise smooth, hairless face.

“I think,” he began slowly, “that I should begin by apologizing.”

“Oof, I might need more than that. Are you sorry that you tricked me into landing on an asteroid with a fake distress signal and then tried to kill me, or are you sorry that you shot me and almost killed me?”

“Lia assures me that you were never in any real danger of dying. Nothing vital was hit.” He winced, his words unconvincing even to his own ears. “I don’t have any interest in harming you. What happened was an unfortunate consequence. Our situation has become dire.”

“Excuse me if I find that hard to believe.” Ryder glowered and folded her arms across her chest. “If you really had any interest in ‘working’ with me, you could have approached me like a normal person. I have an email address.”

He shook his head. “That was not an option. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the way things happened.” A terse pause followed and he chewed on his next words before speaking. “The other two made it back to the ship unharmed. I kept my word.”

Relief flooded through her on a current too powerful to hide. When she felt her jaw start to tremble she clenched her teeth, schooling her face back into a mask of disinterest. “I guess I can’t be too upset that you shot me. After all, I didn’t explicitly say that you couldn’t. I should have listed it with my demands. What a learning experience this has all been.”

The carefully constructed air of friendliness that Lonny had colored his tone with leeched away as his face fell into a mask of fury. “You have no idea what we’ve been going through down here!” he hissed at her. “I’m sure Addison and Tann were happy they were able to cast so many of us off the station, it sure cut down on costs.”

“Save your - “

“Shut up!” he roared, rising with such force that his chair shrieked in protest as it scraped across the floor. “You don’t get an opinion on this. You weren’t there, you didn’t see what we did. That hasn’t stopped you from taking up the Nexus’ banner, though, has it?”

He crossed from behind the desk and made his way towards Ryder. Before she could rise and put distance between them, he was standing over her, his hands pressing into her shoulders to hold her in place.

“I’ve been watching you, Pathfinder Ryder.” The word Pathfinder slid off his tongue, his mouth puckering as he tasted how sour the word was. “You’ve brought hope to a lot of people. I think it’s about time you share the vision with us.”

Despite how much she wanted to pull herself free, stand and defend herself, she stayed seated, forcing her body to relax beneath the clap of his hands. She spoke around her clenched teeth, the words hissing in the air. “What do you want? Credits? Supplies? Tann won’t pay for me.”

“I want,” he said with a shake, “hope.”