#the black phone also gets extra points of favor with me for the scene the main character was watching my favorite william castle movie lol

[varilien]

@azurecitrus OKAY THIS MOVIE ABSOLUTELY BROKE MY HEART AND I GOT CARRIED AWAY THANK YOU FOR THE REC LMAOOO

reminded me of a dream i had once, about vash and wolfwood being schoolkids together and wolfwood scaring off all of vash's bullies,,

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

A Pure Soul: Nearly Taken (Yandere!Wanda Maximoff x ADD!autistic!reader)

*Not my GIF.

Summary: The day (y/n) comes back to the compound after being told all those nasty things takes a toll on their mental health and self-esteem. Unfortunately it gets to a point that Wanda hoped it would NEVER reach.

Request?: Still none.

Word Count: 3,456

Warnings: Ableism, eugenics mention, r-word slur, attempted suicide, attempted overdose, hurt and comfort.

Notes: This is a sort of “in-between scene” from “A Pure Soul.” The rate of suicide is 3 times higher in autistic people because of the world’s lack of understanding and willingness to accommodate us. Plus being told the world would be better off without you, along with people looking for ways to make sure we’re not born....that’s gonna take a toll. So it makes sense for these feelings to emerge.

=============================================

You know that the world isn’t very kind to the disabled.

You know that the world wishes people like you wouldn’t exist.

But that doesn’t make what happened hurt any less.

You were out shopping when you ran into your best friend from high school. Except....this friend wasn’t the same as you knew them. No, instead they showed you their true colors.

“Oh hey, (y/n),” they said.

Tone has never been your specialty.

“Hey!” you exclaimed happily as you were looking through the books at your local bookstore. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! How are you?”

“Better. How’s the treatment coming along?”

This confused you.

“Treatment?”

They nodded.

“For that disease you call autism.”

This struck a chord, and it struck HARD. How could they say something like that?!

“D-disease?!”

They smirked.

“I mean, it just makes us humans lives harder to be around your kind.”

What?!

“What the hell’s gotten into you?!” you exclaimed. “I thought you were my best friend!”

“Oh?”

They pretended to wrack their brain.

“Oh! Yeah, I was such a great actor in that part. I should get an Oscar. Here’s the tea; I lost a bet and had to be your best friend for those four hellish years. I can’t believe they wanted me to suffer that much.”

Your heart began to crack. It was all....an act?

“You took my high school years away from me, made me miserable. I could’ve won prom royalty, but no one voted for me because I associated myself with your species. I’m glad you’re out of my life now. You’re nothing but a burden and the world would be so much better off without you. Why not do us that favor?”

Your heart shattered. You were so plagued with shock that you didn’t notice them push you to the ground and spit on you before walking away with a satisfied chuckle. For the next few minutes, you couldn’t say or do anything. You were just frozen to the spot, their words bouncing around your head.

Finally you were able to feel both the physical and emotional pain. Pursing your lips, you got up, kept your head down, and quickly left the bookstore, trying not to let the tears fall.

===============================================

In the elevator, heading up to your floor, you can barely form a new thought. All you can think of is that hurtful interaction. 

Burden, your kind, your species, disease....

It all hurt. 

And the worst part is that you can’t help but think that they’re right.

But your thoughts are jolted by the elevator bell. As usual you find the Avengers hanging out in the lounge. Nat and Clint are chatting with Wanda. Tony and Peter are working on homework. You can barely see what the others are doing. 

Almost instantly, Wanda’s eye falls on you. She has a smile on her face, but it falls when she sees you, as she instantly knows that something is wrong. 

“(Y/N)!” she whispers worried.

She rushes over and gives you a gentle hug, but you practically squeeze the life out of her. The other Avengers also come to your aid. 

“What happened?” Wanda asks you.

You gulp as she and Nat lead you to the couch.

“I....” you begin as you sit down. “I was out shopping....and I ran into my best friend from high school....”

You tell them the entire interaction. Shocked looks are nearly all around by the end.

“That’s seriously messed up,” Nat says in a mix of disgust and anger.

The others nod in agreement, except for Wanda. Instead she begins to tear up. 

“My sweet angel,” she weeps softly as she hugs you closer and pets your head. “Oh, my sweet, sweet angel. None of what they said is true, not one bit of it. You’re an absolute joy to have around and you’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met. You bring so much to the Avengers and to our lives. Autism is not a disease. It’s a part of who you are, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“Wanda’s right,” Peter nods. “You’re wonderful, (y/n). You’re one of the best friends I could ever ask for.”

“And you bring a lot of new perspectives,” Nat adds. “You came into our lives when we needed you the most, especially Wanda.”

They all take turns giving you words of comfort and encouragement as well as letting you cry. Wanda stays the closest to you, to no one’s surprise, hugging you tightly. Her embrace is exactly what you need right now; so warm and loving. 

Tony, though not the most emotional person, does feel sympathetic and even angered at the person who said that to you; even though you’re on the opposite side of the Accords, he decides to get your favorite food for dinner. It’s not the greatest gesture of sympathy, but it’s definitely something. After that, you take a nice, warm shower and get into some fresh, soft pajamas. Wanda’s waiting for you in your bedroom, and surprises you with some soft socks that match your pajamas.

“I removed the fabric tags too,” she tells you.

Your heart melts a bit more for her. How someone as kind, attentive, and loving as her could ever be considered a terrible person is beyond you. You let her put them on your feet and they feel amazing. You wriggle your toes in them, smiling. 

“You like them?” she asks you.

“I love them,” you giggle before turning to Wanda. “And I love you.”

She smiles and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“I love you too, my angel.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night together, cuddling up close with one another, watching sitcoms, singing quietly. You doze off in her arms.....

But that doesn’t mean it’s over.....

==============================================

You’re not someone who easily forgets how things make you feel, and what that person said still makes you feel like shit. Now whenever you go out, you’re worried that you’re going to run into them. You keep your guard up and walk as quickly as you can. Every outing feels like a fight for survival, but you try to stay strong so that you don’t bother the others. You try to keep a smile on your face. You need to be strong.....

.....But even the strong reach their limits.

It’s a little after you found out they became catatonic. You’re at a coffee shop, nearly empty, when someone else walks in. It’s a friend of that person. You keep your head low as they place their order; four cups of black coffee, extra hot. Your anxiety is increasing, but you don’t want this person to think you’re weak. You keep your back to them, hearing the door open again. 

The other person is called for their order. Maybe you can finally get out of here.

The next thing you know, you feel something steaming hot being poured down the back of your shirt, on your head, thrown in your face, (which you luckily cover most of with your arms) and splattered on your arms and legs. Standing up, you cry out in pain as you whirl around to see 4 people from high school, among them the friend of your former best friend.

“It’s your fault my best friend can’t function, you retard!” the friend snaps as they push you around roughly.

“No one wants you on this planet,” spits another.

“You’re nothing but a parasite!”

“You just weigh people down!”

“You’re an embarrassment to society!”

“Why don’t you just end this?”

“It’ll be better that way!”

“Your birth was a mistake!”

By this time, you’re hardly a thread’s width away from a meltdown and you look at the cashier for help, but nothing. You try to take out your phone to call for help, but you end up slipping on the coffee, falling to the ground hard and in an odd position, hearing a crack. Pain surges through your body as you look at your arms; burn marks are beginning to form.

After they kick at you for a bit and spit on you, they leave. You look up at the cashier. 

“Why....didn’t you help?” you whimper with a whistle in your voice.

No answer. 

They don’t help you up either. Crawling to the door, you use a nearby booth to bring yourself back up to your feet. Suddenly you feel an intense surge of pain in your left leg, and not just from the burns. You look to see that it’s swollen and turning reddish-purple. You reach into your coat and get out your phone only to discover that it’s dead. Wanda’s going to be worried sick....you hate making her worry, and she’s been worried sick these last few weeks to the point where it’s taking a toll on her; so on the way back, you decide to take one worry out of her life for good.

======================

It’s dark when you get back to the compound. And lucky for you, the elevator is closed for repairs. You limp up the stairs, finally reaching the compound. As quiet as a dust mite, you open the door, biting down on your lips to keep yourself from crying out in pain; unfortunately, your lips took some burn damage as well. Limping to the bathroom, you shut and lock the door. You search the medicine cabinet and find some pills.

“This should do the trick,” you whisper.

You try to quietly position yourself on the floor so that you won’t hit your head. You want to be able to pass as peacefully as possible. But something gives in your left leg and you fall, letting out a loud cry of agony. Realizing your mistake, you quickly fiddle with the lid of the bottle as you hear footsteps rush in. You finally get the lid open and begin to pour out the whole bottle into your hand, hoping to get it in in time--

Click!

The lock turns scarlet, clicks, and the door swings opens. 

“(Y/N)!”

A terrified Wanda immediately snatches the pills and bottle from you with her powers. She makes them disappear before heading to your side, tears already flowing from her eyes.

“My sweet angel.....” she squeaks as she kneels in front of you gently taking ahold of your hands. “I didn’t realize you were feeling this terrible. I’m so sorry things have reached this point.”

You look away guiltily. 

“No, I’m sorry....it’s my fault. I never said....anything. You....you’ve been so stressed these past few weeks....all of you. I didn’t want to make it worse on you, so....I just kept quiet.”

Wanda shakes her head.

“You have nothing to apologize for, (y/n). It can be scary, but there’s no shame in reaching out. We all need help sometimes.”

Other footsteps rush in.

“What happened?” Nat asks. “Did (y/n)---?”

“Almost,” Wanda gulps. “We need to get them to the emergency room.”

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Are you fine?” Wanda asks.

You realize that it’s pointless to lie, and you shake your head.

“No, I’m not....”

“Then we need to take you to the emergency room.....”

That’s when she sees the burns and leg.

“Especially to treat these.....what happened?”

As they carry you to the car, you tell them about the run-in at the coffee shop, them pouring the hot coffee on you, how they were telling you all of these things, how the cashier did nothing to help, how you heard that crack. Both of them are disgusted and horrified at those monsters.

“I don’t care what they say,” Nat tells you as they get you inside. “I’m glad that you’re here.”

“I am too,” Wanda agrees as she gets in the front seat. “We’re here for you.”

“But.....my autism.....”

Wanda gently takes ahold of your fingers, careful to avoid the burns.

“My angel.....I can only imagine how isolating it feels to be in a world that’s not made for you, but your autism is part of who you are. It’s what makes you unique. If the world refuses to accommodate for people like you on their own, we’ll help them to see that they need to, and we’ll help advocate with you.”

Nat nods as she starts the car up and the three of you head for the ER.

“I....I feel selfish worrying you like this and even attempting....I just thought....you’ve been so stressed and I thought it’d be better to take one worry out of your life.”

“You have nothing to feel selfish about,” Wanda assures you. “What you did wasn’t selfish. You’re in pain, and wanting to do something to stop that pain isn’t selfish. But there are better ways to deal with the pain, and I want to help you with those. (Y/N), I can say with 100% certainty that I’m glad to have you in my life, through the good and the bad.”

Tears flow down your face as the three of you silently drive to the ER.

=============================================

It takes several hours for you to be treated, along with a few more hours of consultation for your mental health. Some of the burns are treated through surgery, so you have to stay for a little over a week to make sure you recover and stabilize. Your leg is put in a cast, and Wanda comes to visit you everyday. You feel much better with her and Nat.

A psychologist comes in to discuss a safety plan with you. You decided to ask Wanda if she’d come and discuss it with them. She said yes and Nat also decided to help. You all work out what works in terms of coping mechanisms, people you can talk to, calming techniques, etc,. The psychologist also recommends regular counseling. Wanda asks if there are any remote options for counseling, as it’s going to be difficult for you to get there with your leg, (Also, she’s a little worried that the therapist might try to take you away from her, but she does show concern for your leg) and to her relief, there is. 

You’re discharged after about a week, but you’re not to be left alone for a few days to another week or two, just to be sure. Well, it’s more of Wanda’s recommendation than psychologist’s orders, but the psychologist also thinks that that could be a good idea. You’re not really complaining; it’s more time to spend with Wanda. And she’s certainly not complaining either.

For that time, especially, she makes sure you know that you’re loved, wanted, valued. She practically dotes on you; as if she hadn’t been doting on you before, she’s especially pampering you now. The other Avengers also get the 411, and decide to help. If you need pain or sleep medications, one of them brings the proper dose to you. They take turns spending time with you and getting to know you more. If they need to go out on a mission, Wanda volunteers to stay with you, but if she’s absolutely needed there, she entrusts your care to Vision, a robot who’s exceptionally caring. You and Wanda regularly discuss possibly adding him to the relationship, but you’re not sure if she’s being serious or not. 

On one night, Wanda’s caring for you. After applying the prescribed cream on your burns, she helps you find an oversized t-shirt to wear as PJs. 

“This one’s softer than the others,” you note.

“I went looking for a shirt with a softer material than normal,” she tells you as she prepares a small dose of melatonin for you, one that you’ve been taking to combat the nightmares of those events in the hospital. “I know how much it tends to make you feel discomforted if there is one. I also made sure it was a tagless shirt.”

You smile and sigh.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve an angel like you, Wanda,” you tell her.

Hearing this she smiles and blushes.

“If anyone’s the angel, it’s you,” she says as she gives you the melatonin. “You’ve been there for me even when I’m at my absolute worst.”

“So have you.”

You take the melatonin before Wanda brings you your toothbrush and toothpaste. You brush thoroughly before spitting it into a cup that Wanda disposes of. 

“You know, I could go to the bathroom and do this myself,” you tell her kindly.

“I know,” she sighs. “I’m just worried, my angel.”

“What if I wash my face tonight with the door open?” you suggest.

Wanda gives this a little thought and nods. 

“I can work with that.”

Using your crutches, you walk to the bathroom where you sit on a stool in front of the sink. You wash and dry your face before heading to the bed with Wanda helping you get tucked in.

“You’re seriously an angel,” you tell her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone outside of my family that’s been as concerned about my well-being as you.”

“And you’re too sweet,” she smiles again as she finishes getting ready for bed herself. “If anyone’s the undeserving, I don’t deserve you.”

“No, it’s the other way around,” you say.

“No, I’m certain I’m right.”

You giggle.

“Wanda, if we try to prove one right over the other, we’ll be going at this all night.”

She smiles as she goes over to the other side of the bed. 

“Well, I know you’re an angel,” she tells you as she gets under the covers. “You came to me in a dark time, and you shone a beam of sunlight through the shadow.”

The two of you look at each other as the fairy lights hang above you. Of course you’re looking at the bridge of her nose, but you can’t help but glance up at her eyes a few times; one time they catch you, and they are stunning. They’re like emeralds to you; vivid, entrancing, mystical. Just a single glance, and you know there’s so much to know about, so much to discover, and you become lost in them. 

“I’m so proud of you, (y/n).”

Wanda’s gentle voice echoes against your eardrums and dances around your mind, soothing you into drifting even more. But then she boops you on the nose, making it twitch like a bunny’s and snapping you out of your trance.

“Huh?” you ask, looking lost.

Wanda giggles.

“You are too cute,” she tells you. “I was saying that I’m so proud of you for pushing through all of this. It’s not the easiest thing to do, and.....well.....I’m glad you’re still alive, my sweet little sunbeam.”

You blush upon hearing this and turn away, but Wanda gently redirects your face forward.

“There’s no need to hide, my angel. I want to see your lovely face.”

At that moment, you begin to feel drowsy and bring yourself closer to her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough, Wanda,” you sigh.

She brings you in closer and you melt into her embrace.

“Being with you, and you being safe and happy and alive.....that’s the only thank you I need.”

Leaning in, she kisses you gently on your forehead and you shyly return one on her cheek. 

“Goodnight, my angel,” she tells you as she brushes a strand of hair out of your way.

“Wait,” you say as she turns to switch the lights off. “Will....will you sing me those lullabies again? Please?”

“Of course,” she smiles. 

Turning the lights off, she returns to embrace you and softly sings the Sokovian lullabies her parents used to sing to her. As you drift off to sleep, you don’t know what’s going on in her mind. What’s going on with her mind? Her master plan, of course. Tonight’s the night she will finish what she started. Those monsters at the coffee shop messed with the wrong person. For the past few nights, she’s been paying them visits, doing the same things she did with your former best friend, and sending subconscious suggestions for them to gather in one place, thinking they’d be safer together. And now they have.

Tonight she’s going to make sure their minds are gone for good, but not before making them feel the pain and agony she imagines you felt. Her anger with them is in full throttle, so it’s going to be even worse for them. Telekinesis, fear projection, hypnosis, inducing extreme fear, she’ll do whatever she has to. Wanda will not leave until they’re nothing more than hollow husks, shadows of their former selves. With how they’d been acting on those nights, and how much Wanda has done so far, it won’t take too long. 

Because no one-and she means no one-gets away with hurting her precious angel.......ever.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story." 

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

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[octupus-on-the-moon]

A plan

~Yeah, took longer then expected, but i´ll update regulary from now on. The ending is bad i will change that later. Anyway i hope you guys enjoy it~

《 Previous -- Masterlist -- Next 》

Sixth part of a nightmare

Word count: 1566

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Mental health issues 

Bucky and y/n spend the rest of the day planning how they would get to the documents of Mr. Belove. They seemed to start enjoying each other’s company. With every laugh and teasing comment, the loneliness that surrounded both faded.

“Wait a minute, won´t your father… Belove… whatever, won´t he suspect something if you don´t come home tonight?” Bucky asked from the floor. He was sitting in front of a hand painted ground-plan, looking up to y/n. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, childly swinging her feet, chewing on a lollipop.

“No, he isn´t that overprotective. I told him I met some old friend from high school and that we have a lot to catch up. Then I wrote Lisa, the woman that helps me out in the house, to pack some things and bring them to me. Don´t worry I told her to wait for me three blocks from here” y/n explained proud of her foresight.

“You really thought of everything?” Barnes praised her, tilting his head a little to the side. “I like that. You can have the bed by the way. I sleep on the floor anyway” Y/n feet stopped “Are you okey?” He frowned. Her proud expression froze. “Did I say something wrong?” Bucky added, surprising himself with a worried tone in his voice.

“No. No. It´s fine. You just reminded me of someone” She excused herself hasty. Followed by a broad smile, that didn´t reach her eyes “However, do we go over the plan again?”

 The first problem, was that her father never left the house. He spends most of the time in his office or in the library, near the office. The only moment the bureau was completely unsupervised, not counting the security system, was while breakfast, dinner, late at night or on Friday afternoon; The only day of the week he would leave the house to play golf for a few hours. Barnes and y/n decided to do the-not-actually-a-break-in that day.

The second problem only concerned Bucky. It consisted in him needing to ask Sam for another favor…  

 “It´s easy.” Barnes began “You come home from your lecture at 12 pm, then you take lunch with him. He goes off to play golf at 1:30 pm. I turn of the security system at 1:40 pm. You slip into his office and get the documents of the vault. Then we meet at the gate 2 pm sharp. If something goes wrong, we meet at 3 pm here.” He finished with his everlasting, impenetrable face.

“Sounds solid.” Her phone vibrated. “My package arrived” Y/n announced while looking at her phone. “I´ll go get it. I´ll be back in 20. Don´t do anything fun without me” and she left.

 Barnes sat still for a few moments. He was thinking. Since she arrived this morning, something inside him had changed. But what was it? Bucky questioned himself. Then he realized that he had not thought of his anger about Sam, Steve and the shield. Also, his Yori-problem, all the guilt, slid into the background. Today Bucky had laughed and smiled more than he had since 1944. Now that he was there all alone, the silences came back. He felt the void, with all his worries, slowly approaching him.

“It’s the quietest most personal hell” Dr. Raynor´s voice echoed in his mind. Maybe she was right, he thought.

Someone knocked. Barnes rushed to the door. Anything was better now. Better than that awful silence. He threw the door open, just to find Yori standing right in front of him, with a pretty displeased face.

“What about dinner James? We said 6, it´s almost 7” Nakajima complained immediately.

“Oh. Dammit. I am so sorry. I forgot. It´s just. I had a crazy day. And I have a guest.”

“A girl?”

“No! Yes. But not like that. You know what. Just come in” Yori was all smiles as he passed by Bucky, who was desperate by his sudden change of mood.

“Who is she?” Nakajima queried. He was calmly crossing the short corridor, while Barnes closed the door. Bucky´s face went blank, as it occurred him. The report was laying on the counter.

“Ehhh. She. I mean. We” Bucky stuttered as he hurried into the kitchen to collect all the papers “We are coworkers. But she has a problem in her house and is staying a few days with me” He lied after stuffing the papers into an old black backpack, casually leaning against the sink. “She should be back any moment, then we can decide over dinner” Yori looked disappointed, but his face lit up a little after a second.

“James”

“Yeah?”

“You only have one bed” a suggestive smirk appeared on Nakajima´s face. If you looked close enough you could watch Barnes´s cheeks turn red. What did he do to deserve the day of today? He asked. Probably annoy his therapist and not follow the three holy rules, Bucky answered himself, but he won´t change it in the future.

“I will sleep on the floor”

“That´s not comfortable.”

“I know but I can´t share the bed with a stranger Yori”

“Did not mean that. I have two thin extra mattresses. You can have one, till she´s home again” Nakajima offered all serious again. Barnes first reaction would have been to reject his suggestion, but if he did that, he would need to explain why he wanted to sleep on the floor so bad. Or Nakajima would misinterpret Bucky´s intention with y/n.

“That would be great, thank you”

“No problem.”

Silence. Again. But it did not last long. Although Yori preferred not to talk, he felt that something was up. James was usually a very calm guy, but now he was wriggling around impatiently. So Nakajima started to tell about his day. Barnes listen attentively, while making some tea. Grateful not to be surrounded by silence.  

 “James? I´m back” y/n interrupted them. “I thought we could order pizza” Her voice lowered at the end of the sentences, as she turned around the corner seeing Barnes and Nakajima. “Oh! Hello, I`m y/n.” She introduced herself, reaching her free hand towards Yori. The other one was holding a grey sports bag.

“Yori Nakajima a pleasure to meet you” The little grey man replied, accepting her hand.

“The pleasure is all mine Mr. Nakajima. I didn´t know you were expecting someone today” Y/n said, first addressing Yori and then Bucky.

“Yori is my neighbor. We eat sometimes together, but I forgot that we agreed for dinner tonight” Barnes explained a little insecure, because he didn´t know if it was okey for her, sharing dinner with Yori. Nakajima was silently observing the interaction between both.

“Oh, but he can stay for the pizza don’t?” y/n asked Bucky with pleading puppy eyes. Something about that look made him feel warm inside.

“Yes of course.” Barnes agreed with a little smile, that only Yori seemed to notice. Approving whatever kind of relationship these two had, with a knowing look.

“Mr. Nakajima, what kind of pizza do you like?”

 Mr. Nakajima liked the classic New York-style pizza and enjoyed the red wine, Barnes found in one of the mostly empty cupboards of his kitchen.

“James you are really in need of some furniture” Y/n commented from a wooden chair. Yori was comfortably seated on the little armchair, even though he struggled a little reaching for his wine glass on the floor. Meanwhile Bucky was standing near the counter.

“I never planned to have people over and I´m almost never at home, so what´s the point of buying furniture”

“I live alone, but at least I have a table to sit on” Yori added while he balanced the plate on his knees reaching for the glass on the ground.

“Yeah, where do you eat usually? On the floor?” Y/n teased him grinning, before she took a bite of her pizza. Barnes shifted his weight on the left side, uncomfortable with all the questions.

“I never eat at home, cooking for myself isn´t worth it and if I order something I just sit on the floor or in the armchair” Bucky justified his meager living, shrugging and nodding towards Yori. Who just shook his head, amused, about the poor argument. This drew y/n attention to him.

“Mr. Nakajima you said you lived alone. Do you not have any family? Children?” She asked curiously. Regretting once again talking so thoughtlessly, as Yori´s face turned expressionless. Scared of breaking the silence. Y/n looked up to Bucky for help. But he was starring down at his pizza, lost in his own thoughts, which didn´t seem to be pleasant either. “I´m sorry if I did say something wrong. I didn´t know…” Nakajima took a deep breath, so she interrupted herself.

“It´s fine, as you said, you didn´t know. My wife died many years ago giving birth to my firstborn son.” Yori started talking calmly. “My son died a few years ago in a shooting. Since then, I´m alone. James moved here some months ago and spends some time with me. A girl, from the sushi restaurant around the corner, also keeps an eye on me, but that´s it.”

It took a while and an empty wine bottle to restore the relaxed atmosphere. The day ended with a more or less intense card game. After Bucky brought the mattress from Yori´s apartment to his empty livingroom. 

All rights reserved.

Ps. Yeah, i broke my own heart with the dinner scene

《 Previous -- Masterlist -- Next 》

[plaidbooks]

Red

A/N: Hey, remember that made-up fic title game where I made this up and then an anon asked for it and I said I was already kinda working on it? No? Me either. But here’s a fic about Rafael being kidnapped. I’ve always wanted to write a darker fic where reader gets to go ham, so I did! I also love the idea of shooting someone while they’re posturing, and hate that it doesn’t happen in shows/movies. Lemme know if you want a part 2 or not!

Edit: I forgot to mention that this is dedicated to @prurientpuddlejumper, who wanted so bad for me to stab Rafi

Tags: kidnapping, murder/death, guns, whump (but not really until the end?), allusions to torture by knife/stabbings

Words: 3890

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @barbasimp @dianilaws @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

“Rafi, what the hell is this?” you asked, arms crossed, and eyes narrowed. You were inside his office at One Hogan Place—what was a happy surprise was slowly turning into something more—glaring at the desk. Everything was in its place, undisturbed, except for an open letter laying innocently on the wood. You couldn’t see the handwritten words, but you could make out the crest that acted as a signature—the emblem of the BX9 gang. You had seen it multiple times in your career as detective in Manhattan’s homicide department, usually spray painted at a crime scene, or tattooed on a member. Or carved into someone skin with a dull knife in more extreme cases.

Rafael came up behind you, glancing over your shoulder at his desk. He sighed. “Just a thinly veiled threat, hermosa. Nothing to worry about—”

“Nothing to worry about?” you spat. “BX9 is threatening you and there’s nothing to worry about?”

He grimaced at your tone. “Cariño, they’ve been threatening me since I became an ADA—it’s background noise at this point.” He kissed your cheek, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I promise you; it’s fine.”

You melted against his solid chest, but you didn’t uncross your arms. “It doesn’t feel fine, Raf…what if something happens? What are they even threatening you about?”

His lips moved to your neck, kissing the soft skin just below your ear. “Remember that conviction I got last week on Alfonse Romero? Well, he was a high-ranking member of the BX9…. They want him released,” he explained.

“That’s…a serious threat, Raf,” you murmured back. You moved your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck as your body started to relax under his touch. “Do I need to have unis watching you?”

Rafael bit down on your neck and you let out a whimper. “No, and I don’t want to talk about this right now. Right now, I just want you,” he whispered, kissing and sucking at you. He was impossible to resist, and you let him push you towards his desk, his hands groping at you.

 ******************

Ever since you learned your husband was coming under threats, you started wearing your vest everywhere under your shirt, just in case. BX9 were ruthless, and it wouldn’t surprise you if they went after you to hurt Rafael, whether you were a detective or not—they didn’t have qualms about killing cops. You wanted Rafael to wear a vest under his suits as well, but he refused, thinking it ridiculous. Even so, you snagged one that was his size from the department, and headed home, intending to force it on him. You’d rather him safe, if uncomfortable, than dead; fuck his pride. It was the weekend, so he was off, relaxing on the couch last you saw him that morning.

The elevator doors dinged open and you walk towards your shared loft but stop short. Even from here, you could see that the door is slightly open, the wood in the frame splintered. Your heart in your throat, you hurry to the door, unholstering your gun as you go. You push the door open, aiming you gun inside.

“Rafael?” you called out, taking a few steps in. The coatrack by the door has been knocked over, and there’s flecks of red on the carpet. Blood. Rage and fear coursed through you, and it’s with shaky hands that you step over it, moving through the quiet loft, searching every room. But there’s no sign of anyone there. Holstering your gun, you looked for something, anything, that could be a clue as to where they took him. There was no doubt in your mind as to who took him, and you closed your eyes, sending a silent prayer that he was still alive, fear and nausea overtaking you for just a moment before you shoved it down.

There was a piece of paper on the coffee table in the living room, and you could see the familiar crest of BX9. You glanced over it, your eyes scanning it quickly as you read it once, twice, your breath coming in sharper as you absorbed the words.

“Release our Captain Romero to us by 9am tomorrow morning, and we’ll trade back the lawyer. Fail to give us Romero, and you’ll find the lawyer’s corpse. -BX9”

You clenched your hands into fists. The good news was that Rafael was alive. The bad news was there was absolutely no way you could get Romero released, especially by 9am…it was already 1pm—you had less than 24 hours. There was an address at the end of the note; the meeting place for the exchange. You snapped a picture of it on your phone, then left the loft. You had some favors to call in, but one thought kept coming back to you; if there was so much as a scratch on Rafael Barba, you were going to kill everyone involved.

 *********************

“BX9 owns this warehouse,” one of your informants, Johnny, relayed to you. “I’ve seen a couple guys going in and out recently.”

You nodded. “But you didn’t see the ADA?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “But I did find a back door that seemed unguarded.”

That caught your attention. “Show me.”

It was 10pm, and your resolve had only hardened with the passing time. You had less than 12 hours to find your husband. After going to the meeting place and finding it deserted, you had sent out every druggie and rat that owed you a favor to track down BX9 hubs. You had then busied yourself with gearing up—making sure your vest was on tight, your ammo in your handgun full, an extra clip on your hip. You also grabbed your trusty pocketknife, and finished your ensemble with a fully-loaded, pump-action shotgun strapped to your back. You didn’t plan on taking hostages—BX9 would extend the same curtesy to you. It was all about who could pull the trigger faster. And you didn’t plan on losing.

Olivia Benson, head of Manhattan’s SVU, who Rafael worked with constantly and considered a friend, had tried to contact you after finding your home broken into, but you had ignored her calls. No distractions. You were going to find Rafael, and there was going to be hell to pay. There was a good chance you were going to lose your shield for this, but you didn’t care. You just didn’t want to drag anyone else into this. If you lost your job protecting your husband, then so be it. You didn’t need the self-righteous Lieutenant, nor her loyal lapdogs, holding you back.

 *****************

The warehouse seemed dark, abandoned…except for the one or two men in black, trying to look nondescript. They were doing inconspicuous laps around the place, or would lean against the front of the building, smoking. It made sense why the back door was unguarded, though—the warehouse was on the harbor, the back of the building against the water. You’d have to swim to get there. Not a problem.

“Thank you, Johnny,” you murmured. “Keep your eyes open for other hotspots, in case he’s not here.” He nodded, and you waved your hand, dismissing him. You were on a separate pier, gazing across the black waters to the warehouse that most likely held Rafael. As Johnny left, you looked around, trying to see if there was an easier solution than swimming; it was already 40 degrees outside, and the cool breeze would chill you to the bone if you were wet. Plus, you had your gun and a shotgun slung across your back that wouldn’t work if waterlogged.

Luckily, you found a small, rubber raft attached to a boat, oars laying on the deck next to it. You grabbed an oar, gently tossing it down to the raft below, then climbed down the ladder. One foot in the raft and taking out your pocketknife, you quickly cut through the ropes that tied the raft to the boat, then fully sat down inside. Silently, you paddled against the light current, heading towards the back of the warehouse. The two men never thought to check the water, their vigil consisting of only the front doors. It was an almost 30-minute fight across such a small expanse of water, your arms burning as you made it to the other side, but you felt none of it, your anger fueling you.

You carefully climbed up the ladder onto the pier, heading to the back door on silent feet. The door was locked, and you squatted by the locking mechanism. You popped open your pocketknife, shoving it into the keyhole. You fiddled with it, jerking it this way and that, trying to brute force your way in—you didn’t have anything else to pick the lock…besides the shotgun on your back. But that wasn’t really silent.

With a satisfying click, the keyhole turned. You tried the doorknob, and it turned, opening the door as the blade of your knife snapped inside the keyhole. Glancing at your broken pocketknife, you closed it, tucking it back into your pocket before entering the warehouse. A broken knife is still a sharp object, and the blade was still good for cutting ropes or tape.

It was silent inside as you crept along, gun held at the ready. You weren’t nervous, you weren’t sad. All you felt was a cold, simmering rage that was barely being contained within you…and the smallest kernel of fear that Rafael may be severely injured or worse. If he was truly dead, then—no, you wouldn’t finish that thought. He couldn’t be dead. You weren’t quite sure what you’d do if he was, and that scared you more than anything. But you took that fear and shoved it deep within yourself, letting anger and instinct take over. There’d be plenty of time for fear and stress later.

Gun drawn, you made your way down a hallway of open doors, the rooms small and empty, when you heard a muffled groan from behind a closed door. You holstered your gun, taking out the shotgun—if this room was like the others you had passed, it was small enough for the shotgun.

Holding the shotgun at the ready, you made your way to the door, then knocked harshly, taking a step back and aiming. As the door opened, you looked a member of the BX9 in the face before you pulled the trigger, blasting him backwards.

“What the fuck?” a voice yelled from inside the room. You kicked the door open, and it bounced off the dead man’s leg. You wedged your foot against the bottom of it, propping it open, and shoved the barrel of the shotgun towards the other man standing there. He jumped back in shock and fear, putting his hands up, a bloody knife falling from his hand and clattering to the floor. Between you was a man strapped to a chair, his back to you. But one look told you it wasn’t Rafael—he had blonde hair and his shoulders weren’t as broad. The man in the chair let out another groan, but you didn’t look away from the other BX9 member.

“Where’s Rafael Barba being held?” you asked, voice dangerous.

“Yo, he’s the one we tradin’ for Romero, right?” The man asked, voice shaky.

You gripped the shotgun tighter. “You have until the count of three to give me a location. One—”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t part o’ that hit! I was here, with—”

“Two—”

“I…I can find out! Lemme just text Jose—”

“Three.” You pulled the trigger, the shotgun blast deafening in the small room and silencing the man, splattering his blood on the wall behind him. You moved into the room, squatting down and reaching into the second dead man’s pocket, pulling out his cell. It was an old flip phone—a burner cell—so you didn’t need him to unlock it for you. You thumbed through the contacts until you found Jose, shooting him a text, asking for Rafael’s location. As you went to leave the room, you glanced at the poor man slumped in the chair, whimpering and groaning in pain. Using the burner cell, you called 911, requesting an ambulance, before leaving the warehouse. If Rafael was in the same shape as that man…you were already clenching your fists in rage.

 ****************

Jose didn’t text you back until almost 6am. Needless to say, you were furious, waiting for information, checking other BX9 hotspots, but finding no hint of Rafael there. At least he gave you an address instead of wondering why you were asking questions. So, with less than 3 hours remaining, you made your way to the destination, shotgun on your back and handgun on your hip. You felt no exhaustion from the sleepless night, having kept busy searching the city for your husband, your anger fueling you like gas to a flame.

You were across the street from where Jose had told you; it was an empty lot, a chain-link fence surrounding it, a rusted-out shipping container in the far end. Either Jose had completely fucked you, or they were in that shipping container. The only problem with the second option was that if you shot your gun—either one—inside there, you’d probably burst everyone’s eardrums, including your own…and Rafael’s, if he was indeed in there. But how to lure them out?

You made your way through the gate, your eyes never leaving the shipping crate. The opening was facing you; even though you could only see darkness inside with the barely rising sun casting shadows, you were sure they could see you just fine.

“I got your Captain out here,” you lied, your voice echoing along the buildings. “Show me the counselor.”

You heard scuffling inside, and a low voice saying, “go check,” before a man stepped out into the light.

“Where’s Romero?” he asked gruffly, coming to stand in front of you.

“Safe. Where’s Rafael?” you shot back, flexing your hands. The man had a gun in his waistband, but you knew you could draw faster.

“Safe,” he parroted back. “Show me Romero, and I’ll show you the lawyer.”

You stared at each other for a long time, sizing each other up. His hand twitched and you drew your gun, shooting him once in the chest. He had only made it halfway to his waistband before he was falling to the ground. You heard a scrambling inside the crate, and you aimed at the opening, waiting.

“Show me the ADA,” you called. “Or you all die.” You didn’t know how many there were, but you were following your own rationale—they wouldn’t fire a gun inside the container. Though there was still the option of stabbing Rafael…and you were praying they wouldn’t give up a chance at getting Romero back that easily by killing him.

A burly looking man came lumbering into the open, but you paid him no attention, your eyes instead locked on the man he was half-dragging with him. Rafael looked barely conscious, blood leaking from his temple and nose, his polo shirt torn and splattered with red. It looked like he had multiple stab wounds and cuts, and his legs were shaky beneath him. You clenched your teeth, your heart in your throat, but you didn’t lower your arm, gun still aimed at the man. You were seeing red as your eyes went to the gun pressed against the side of Rafael’s lolling head, then back to the man holding him up.

“Drop your gun, or he dies,” the man commanded.

A rush of adrenaline pumped through you, but you willed yourself to stay calm, unblinking as you stared the man down, unmoving. “I’m only going to say this once; let my husband go, or I’ll make you let him go,” you muttered, voice barely audible.

The man laughed. “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do—” He was cut off as you pulled the trigger, hitting him between the eyes. As he fell backwards, Rafael stumbled forward, his legs buckling beneath him. You rushed forward, dropping your gun and catching him as he fell to his knees.

“Babe, look at me, are you okay? We gotta get you to a hospital,” you murmured, all the anger and rage that had filled you for the past day instantly leaving you. All you felt now was concern for your husband, and a profound relief that he was alive…plus an all-encompassing exhaustion that quickly filled in where the anger had left. You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you through fluttering eyelids.

“…[y/n]? Wh-what happened?... I’m so tired…” Rafael mumbled, unable to keep his eyes open.

“Stay with me, baby,” you replied, suddenly afraid that he may not survive. You pulled out your phone with one hand, calling 911 for an ambulance, while lifting his shirt with your other hand, checking his injuries. He had various cuts and stabs on his torso, but they all seemed old, the blood dried. You grit your teeth as fleeting anger washed through you once more, wishing you left the bastards alive so that you could shoot them again.

Helping Rafael to his feet, you half-walked, half-dragged him out of the lot, laying him on the cool concrete. You murmured encouragement to him while waiting for the ambulance, trying to keep him conscious, your heart straining. The police showed up first—someone must’ve called in the gunshots. You flashed your badge, telling them that the two dead were with BX9 and were killed in self-defense. Not a full lie, but you also weren’t telling them the full truth, either. They didn’t ask too many questions, and you surrendered the shotgun instantly, your handgun laying in the lot still.

The ambulance finally came just as Rafael lost consciousness. You waved the paramedics over, watching with bated breath as they loaded him onto a gurney.

“I’m riding with him,” you said, climbing into the ambulance with your husband, clutching his hand.

 ***************

Rafael slowly awoke a few hours after being admitted to the hospital, his hand still clutched in yours. You had yet to contact SVU—or IAB, for that matter—wanting to let Rafael and yourself relax before being subjected to all the visitors, all the questions. The various cuts and stab wounds were shallow, and only a few needed stitches. Thankfully, he didn’t have anything too serious done to him physically—probably because they were afraid that they wouldn’t get Romero back if they fucked Rafael up too much.

“Hey, honey. How’re you feeling?” you asked, voice soft.

He blinked groggily, eyes slightly unfocused. “Like I was hit repeatedly by a car,” he groaned, trying to sit up.

“Relax, dear. Don’t strain yourself,” you said, but he didn’t stop. So, rolling your eyes at his stubbornness, you helped him sit up.

Once up, you poured him some water, then helped him lift the cup to his mouth. “What happened? I…I remember getting attacked from behind at home. They knocked me out…and then I woke up in a metal room…” he trailed off, and you could see the pain in his eyes.

“I found you in a storage container in an empty lot—they wanted to trade you for Romero,” you explained, eyes hard. You both fell to silence for a moment before you said quietly, “if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. You know I won’t judge you.”

Rafael was silent for a long time, eyes downcast. He wasn’t one to talk freely about his emotions or thoughts—something that you learned to live with—but he was getting better about it with you. “When he stabbed me the first time, all I could think about was you…about how I was never going to see you again. I was sure I was going to die in that box….” Tears clouded his vision, and your heart shattered. “They didn’t tell me why I was there, why they took me. I…I didn’t know what was happening—”

“It’s okay, baby; you’re safe now,” you muttered, squeezing his hand. “I got you.”

Rafael sniffled. “I…should’ve listened to you about the threats. You were right—I should’ve had protection—”

“It’s in the past, Rafi. We can’t change it now.” It broke your heart to see Rafael like this, so shaken up. “Besides, I don’t think the BX9 are going to come anywhere near you anytime soon.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Why not? You didn’t give them Romero, did you?”

“Of course not. But….” You weren’t positive how to tell him, but you also couldn’t lie to him. “I was so…enraged when I found you were taken…. In the process of tracking you down, I may have…taken out some members….”

Rafael blinked at you. “You…you killed people?”

“Technically, yes, I did. But—”

“Are you crazy? How have you not been arrested yet? What’s going to happen—”

“Calm down, Raf. They were all done in self-defense. I won’t be arrested…though, I may lose my shield for it,” you explained.

Rafael fell back into silence as he thought about this. You were a little embarrassed about it, guilty because you knew how he felt about murder. But you wouldn’t feel bad about protecting your husband, and that’s what you had been doing. You weren’t sure how IAB would come at you, though, but you also weren’t too worried about it; you were a decorated detective with a clean record. Plus, there were no witnesses to what happened…except that one man in the warehouse. There would definitely be questions about why you left him strapped to a chair, bleeding out. And you didn’t think it would go to trial, but you were already wondering if “not guilty by mental defect” applied, since you were out of your mind with worry and rage at Rafael being abducted.

You shook yourself, pushing all that from your mind. “I do still want to have some protection put on you…just for a little, okay?”

Rafael nodded vaguely, gaze not quite meeting your eyes. “How long am I stuck here for?”

“I’m…not sure, but it shouldn’t be too much longer. They were waiting for you to wake up, but your injuries aren’t severe…. Speaking of, did you want me to find a—a therapist—”

“Absolutely not. I’m fine,” Rafael cut you off. You figured as much; he’d never admit something wrong with his mind, even when he had tough cases wearing him down for weeks, months. He just powers through it; that was his way. But you were afraid that this time may be different…for both of you.

You squeezed his hand once more, and his eyes softened as he looked at you. “Okay, love. Let me go find your nurse, see if I can take you home. I’m making you your favorite dinner tonight, and then we are sleeping in.”

Rafael gave you a soft smile, bringing your hand up, his lips brushing your knuckles lightly. “Thank you, mi amor. Te amo.”

“Te amo, Guapo,” you replied, standing and making your way out the door, reluctant to leave him alone, to take your eyes off him, even for a second. But Rafael was safe…for now…as safe as he could be.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 42 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hello darlings! The saga continues… Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Pearl’s eye started to wander and Violet set out on a quest to truly prove herself.

This Chapter: Aiden struggles with envy, Adore learns something extremely disturbing about her girlfriend, and Violet makes a friend in the park.

***

“Oof!” Katya held the sweater she was knitting in front of her face, blocking the view of the TV. “Oh god, that scene gets me every time.”

“I can see why this is one of your favorites.” Violet smiled, her pencil paused on her sketchpad as she watched Nancy’s powertrip, The Craft a surprisingly good film.

They were sitting on the couch in Trixie, Katya and Pearl’s apartment, Katya sending Violet a text if she wanted to come down and watch a movie.

Violet had learned early on that Katya despised people who were on their phones while watching movies, but that crafts were allowed, which was probably also why Katya had asked her specifically since Max was out of town. Pearl, Kim and Shangela were all on the no movies list, while Trixie was apparently walking on ‘thin fucking ice’ as Katya herself had said.

“I was a witch once.” Katya smiled, going back to the pink sweater with purple clouds she was knitting, the size of it making it clear that it was for Trixie. “Who doesn’t like a side of blood magic?”

Violet smiled, shaking her head as she turned her attention halfway back to her sketch, her hand doodling flowers along the lapel of the jacket she was working on.

***

“Kiara?”

Aiden was having a perfectly good day until she came over.

It was a little after lunch, the cafeteria serving the chicken he liked. He’d been working on some sketches, fairly satisfied with his progress so far, the days going by so fast.

He was on track to have almost 10 different looks finished by the end of the day when they had to turn them in, and so he was certain that he’d be getting into the Spring collection.

He had been perfecting a sleeve, when his pleasant thoughts had been rudely interrupted by Violet’s voice, as she approached their station to talk to Kiara.

“Hi,” Violet was holding a black portfolio in her hands, her pink nails tapping on the black vinyl. She was wearing a pair of black high waisted pants, a belt cinching in her waist and a long sleeved silk top. “I was wondering if I could see what you were working on for the Spring prêt-à-porter collection?”

“Sure? Kiara looked surprised, but she still grabbed her own stack of sketches, Kiara one of the few designers that still preferred to do everything by hand. “Why?

“I heard that you’re doing a jacket,” Violet put her portfolio down, “and I’m thinking of doing a jacket, so I just want to make sure we’re not submitting the same thing.”

Of course Violet was thinking of submitting a jacket.

“Scared of the competition Chachki?” Aiden was about to reach for his own sketch, his centerpiece for his spring submissions a jacket as well.

“No?” Violet looked at Aiden, her big brown eyes unblinking. “Why would I be?”

Aiden was about to open his mouth to respond when he realized that there was no point, his hand falling down.

That girl was just so incredibly condescending, and he hated her for it.

“Here we go.” Kiara said, gesturing to her sketches, tapping on the 3 versions of the jacket that she was going to submit.

“Hmm.” Violet peered at them, nodding. “Good. We’re not doing the same at all.”

“I showed you mine. Are you gonna show me yours?” Kiara asked, and Violet giggled, pulling out her own sketches.

“Deal,” she said, flipping open the portfolio.

As curious as he was, Aiden decided not to look, burying his head in his own work, now more determined than ever to get that jacket spot.

***

“Babyyy, pay attention to meeee,” Adore whined, tugging on Pearl’s top, attempting to nuzzle into her neck as they were on the bed. Pearl had invited her over for dinner, but the second they’d finished Katya’s famous twice-baked potatoes and garlic chicken (and several bottles of wine), she’d pulled out her laptop and begun working on content for Galactica’s new website.

Adore had never seen Pearl work after hours before. She was slightly shocked to see her do any real work, to be honest, imagining her position at Galactica to be purely schmoozing with brand reps and taking high-profile selfies at fancy events.

“Sorry, I have to finish this shit tonight.” Pearl finished the last of her wine and pressed a quick kiss to Adore’s forehead before going back to her computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard, Pearl actually typing at a surprisingly impressive speed.

“But…” Adore knew she was being a brat, but really, what was Pearl’s rush to finish something this late anyway? Would anyone even be ready to receive it? “Please-”

“Dore,” Pearl sighed, actually looking down at her. “I need to turn it into the site designers before midnight tonight. I thought I’d have time at work, but there was an influencer emergency and you know how those bitches get.”

Adore didn’t, in fact, know how influencers got, the realization that she knew absolutely nothing about Pearl’s work slowly creeping over her.

“I tried asking for extra time, but Fame said no.” Pearl pressed space, her short nails clacking against the black keys of her Macbook. “And unfortunately, eating her pussy right now for a favor is out of the question.” Pearl huffed. “Believe me. I tried.”

“What?” Adore’s hand froze on Pearl’s waist. “You tried what?”

“Eating her pussy?”

Adore sat up, rocking the bed. “Pearl!”

“What? You know that me and Fame used to hook up. We’ve done it for years.” Pearl turned to her with a curious expression. “They didn’t tell you?” Pearl raised a brow. “Huh.” She bit her lip, going back to her laptop. “I thought for sure they would when they were all freaked out about us getting together.”

“They?” Adore asked, trying to keep her voice from getting shrill.  “Who is they?”

“Fame mostly” Pearl shrugged, “but I thought Bianca would have had something to say.”

“Wait, so...sorry.” Adore squeezed her eyes shut, trying to clear her mind before asking, “You and Fame used to hook up, and Bianca knew about it?”

“I assumed? I don’t know for sure, but why else would your sister hate me?” Pearl paused typing, a cheshire grin on her face. “I’m delightful.”

Adore could feel her heart pounding in her throat.

“And you… You were gonna...you were gonna cheat on me with her?”

“Cheat? Wha - No!” Pearl closed her laptop, putting it to the side before she turned to Adore, shaking her head. “I’m not cheating.”

“It sure as shit sounds like it.”

“We never talked about being exclusive? So I just figured…” Pearl shrugged, and Adore wanted to hit her. “You’re a really cool girl, and I thought you didn’t care about stuff like that.”

“Well…” Adore’s mind raced. She’d been so ready to get angry, throw an absolute fit, but Pearl calling her cool was having the effect of pouring aloe onto inflamed skin. “I mean...I guess that’s true, we never talked about it.”

“It’s 2014. Everyone who’s not an absolute square is open these days,” Pearl continued.

“Is that… I mean, so…” Adore swallowed hard. “So you want an open relationship?”

“I’m not running around town fucking everyone I meet, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just think like… We know how we feel about each other? So why worry about oppressive hetero-normative rules?” Pearl punctuated her question with a charming smile, and Adore could feel herself melting.

“Yeah, that...makes sense.”

“See, this is why you’re the fucking best.” Pearl closed her laptop and kissed Adore gently, cradling her head, and every last ounce of anger dissipated into thin air.

Well...anger at Pearl, anyway. She’d deal with Miss Goddamn Fame and her traitorous sister tomorrow.

“Don’t you need to work?” Adore asked, pressing into Pearl’s embrace.

“I’ll go in early tomorrow,” Pearl said, moving her lips to Adore’s neck.

Adore sighed happily, lavishing the attention, sure that being with Pearl was worth it.

***

Courtney had gotten to the office before 6 am to prepare for the Friday design meeting--organizing the nearly 400 sketches into categories, making scans and copies and mounting the originals on card stock, each one numbered for easy reference. In the end, she had a tabbed binder for each of the attendees with high-quality copies, just barely finishing by the time Miss Fame strolled in at 9:30.

They’d been at it for awhile now, and what had begun as an orderly review with everyone on the same page had devolved into chaos, tension high as people defended their opinions. She stood in the corner of the conference room, feet already aching in her 4-inch heels, trying to follow the rapid-fire conversation, Raja and Trixie bickering about pant length and Pearl tearing out the pages she didn’t like, tossing them to the floor.

“This skirt on 42 is nice, but it looks complicated. How much would it cost to manufacture it?” Pearl passed a sketch to Bendela, who was the head of the tailoring department.

Bendela examined it closely, before proclaiming, “At least $700.”

Pearl pulled it out of her hands, dropping it on the floor with the other rejects. “Bye!”

“Well, hey now…” Alyssa flipped to the same sketch in her own binder. “Maybe it wouldn’t work for the stores, but it’s still good. Could we save it for a potential runway look?”

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Sure, but that’s not what we’re doing today.”

“Why don’t we put it aside and give Jovan some notes for runway?” Trixie suggested.

“That’s literally what I just said,” Alyssa snapped.

“I know, I’m agreeing with you!” Trixie exclaimed, handing her a fresh Red Bull. “Here, have some more gogo juice.”

“I really like this top on 27, but it would have to be a bit shorter to work with the other separates,” Alaska drawled, and Raja nodded, jotting down a note on the corresponding page of her binder.

“Yes, it’s pretty. What do you think, Fame?” asked Raja.

“It would be pretty, if it wasn’t in this disgusting color,” Fame said.

“Non-disgusting color coming right up!” Trixie said cheerfully, scribbling a note on the page.

“Trixie, I do not appreciate your tone.”

“Sorry Miss. You want to see something great? Check out Maxwell’s suit options. Starting on 104. He really outdid himself this year.” Trixie let out a loud chef’s kiss.

“Awww, thanks coach!” Maxwell said.

Courtney shifted, stretching a little, and noticed that Miss Fame had finished her coffee. Relieved for an excuse to move, she slipped from the meeting, grabbing her coat on the way to the elevators. She got Fame’s usual order as quickly as possible, along with her preferred apple cinnamon muffin to have on stand-by in case her blood sugar was having its usual pre-lunch dip, and returned to the 25th floor, shocked at the face that greeted her in the lobby when the elevator doors opened.

“Adore?”

“Courtney! Thank god. This bitch wouldn’t let me into Fame’s office-” Adore gestured towards Roxy, irritated, who gave her an equally dirty look in return, “And I need to talk to her.”

“Well…” Courtney beeped her access card, shooting Roxy an apologetic smile and saying, “Thanks, I got it.”

Once inside, she tossed her coat over her chair and turned back to Adore, who was rattling the doorknob of Fame’s office like a crazy person, pounding on the door.

“Fame? Fame, open up!”

“Adore…” Courtney touched her lightly on the shoulder. “She’s not in there. She’s in a meeting, with like, the whole senior design and marketing teams right now, and-”

“Well, I need to talk to her, right away.” Adore was clearly agitated.

“Are you okay? Can I-”

“No! I’m obviously not okay! I need to talk to her, now-”

“Okay. You wanna wait here until they break for lunch?” Courtney asked. “I can’t really ask her to leave without-”

“No, I want to talk to her. If you don’t want to interrupt, I will. I don’t give a shit about her meeting.” Adore charged forward, and Courtney caught her by the shoulders.

“Wait! Okay, I’ll tell her you’re here and that it’s urgent. Please, just…”

Adore seemed to begrudgingly accept this plan, crossing her arms and sitting on the edge of Courtney’s desk. “Two minutes and then I’m coming in.”

Courtney took a deep breath and made her way towards the conference room, trying not to wring her hands on the way. She was worried for whatever was making Adore so upset, but she also couldn’t help but roll her eyes a little at her demanding attitude. It wasn’t something that reared its head terribly often, but when it did...hoo boy. Spoiled brat Adore was by far the worst version of Adore--petulant, entitled, unyielding. Courtney prayed that she would get through this tantrum without a scene.  

Courtney re-entered the conference room, handing Miss Fame her coffee and then turning to a fresh page in her notebook and scribbling out a note, trying to be as concise as possible.

Adore Delano here. Very upset. Needs to talk. Says it’s urgent.

She underlined “urgent” before showing it to her boss, hoping that she wouldn’t get scolded for her friend’s behavior.

Fame glanced at the note and then stood up, clearing her throat.

“I have to go attend to a family matter,” she announced, “but I’ll be back shortly.” She gestured vaguely to the empty chair beside her seat, indicating that Courtney should stay and take notes.

Courtney quickly sat down, pulling over Miss Fame’s binder.

***

When Miss Fame entered her office suite, Adore was there, pacing around. She looked physically fine, which was a relief, but Fame was still concerned, knowing that Adore wouldn’t come to her, not in the middle of the day like this, unless something terrible had happened.

“Hello darling, what on earth is going on-”

“Don’t fucking darling me!” Adore snapped, catching her off guard, and Fame took a deep breath, opening her door to her office and ushering Adore inside before firmly shutting it. For one thing, it would give them some privacy. And for another, it would make sure that no one passing by saw Adore’s messy hair and booty shorts.

“Is anybody hurt?”

“Fuck you!”

Fame sighed, locking the door. If she was going to screech like a maniac, they may as well have as much soundproofing as possible.

“Now, Adore-” Fame began, but Adore immediately interrupted.

“What the fuck do I have to do for y’all to stop treating me like a fucking child?!” Adore burst out, and Fame couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“A child? Since I was at your 15th birthday, I don’t think that’s very fair-”

“Don’t change the subject!” Adore shouted, looking genuinely upset, her hand shaking.

“What is the subject, dearheart?” Fame took a step forward, but Adore stepped back. Fame could feel her panic rising, wondering if something was actually wrong with Bianca, if anyone had gotten hurt. “I think we missed a step here-”

“Pearl! Pearl, is the fucking subject!” Adore jabbed a finger against her chest, Fame looking down.

“Adore!” No one had done that to Fame since she was a child, the action incredibly upsetting and weird.

“Specifically,” Adore poked her, “you,” poke “fucking her.” Adore looked up, her eyes filled with anger. “Is that clear enough?”

“Oh.” Fame’s heart sank, the secret apparently out. The last thing she ever wanted was for Adore to get hurt, but here they were. “How did you…” Fame looked over her shoulder, making sure the door was locked, hoping that Courtney was still in the conference room.

“Look at me!”

“How did you find out about this-”

“Pearl told me!”

Fuck.

“She apparently thought that you’d told me already.”

“Good god.” Fame closed her eyes briefly, cursing herself for not being more explicit with Pearl back in September. “She really shouldn’t have done that.”

“She?!” Adore yelled. “Why didn’t you? Why do you all fucking tiptoe around, protect me like I��m a goddamn infant?!”

“Adore-”

“I’m 24 fucking years old! Half of your employees are younger than me, and I know for a fact that you don’t treat them like delicate little babies-”

“Please. Calm down, I don’t-” Fame held up her hands. “Please.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You want the truth? The grown-up truth?”

“Yes!”

“Me not telling you about my…” Fame made a vague gesture, “history with Pearl. That wasn’t to protect you. That was to protect myself.”

“What…” Adore looked momentarily thrown by this, her anger replaced with confusion, and Fame pulled her onto the sofa, taking the opportunity to grasp one of her hands.

“She’s my employee, Adore.” Fame rubbed her thumb over Adore’s hand, gently caressing it. “We may have had an understanding between us, but…” Fame sighed. “Nobody else would--could understand.”

“You mean like your husband?” Adore shot back, face twisting once more into anger. “I can’t believe you would cheat on him, that you would-”

“I would never ‘cheat’ on Patrick. He knows everything. You don’t need to worry about my marriage. But I mean that if my...Interests came out publicly, it would be very damaging to my professional reputation. That’s what I feared.”

“And you didn’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust anybody with things like this, Adore. So instead of telling you, I just...broke things off with her, and made sure she knew how much I love you. That I would be very angry if she mistreated you.”

Adore bit her lip, taking in what Fame had said, her blue eyes misty. “You went behind my back and told my girlfriend to be nice, or she’d be in trouble? Don’t you see how fucked up that is?”

“I’m sorry. It was a bad decision, but it wasn’t because I was trying to baby you. It was...it doesn’t matter. I can see now that I should have told you instead.”

“Yes. But…” Adore sighed. “I guess I understand why you didn’t.”

“I’m glad,” Fame said. “Thank you for that.”

She pulled Adore close, hugging her tightly, trying to show how sorry she was. When Bianca had taken custody of Adore nearly ten years earlier, Fame felt like she shared the responsibility to look out for her.

She knew, of course, that sometimes that meant that she was overprotective, and maybe even patronizing, but she couldn’t help it: Adore would always be a sweet baby to her, someone who had been through hell far too young, who deserved to be a bit spoiled and sheltered.

“There’s one more thing I need to know,” Adore said, still chewing on her lip.

“What is it?”

“Does my sister know?”

Fame took a deep breath, tucking a lock of Adore’s fading purple hair behind her ear. “She does. But she’s the only one. Besides Patrick. And now you. And she promised me, swore on her life, that she’d never tell.”

“Hmm.”

***

“We’ll get the results tomorrow, and it isn’t that I’m like, nervous nervous, I just hope I have done a good enough job-”

Sutan smiled as he listened to Violet chat, the fact that she was actually sharing her honest feelings about Galactica’s prêt-à-porter collection feeling like a big deal.

Sutan had asked Violet out for lunch since he was already in midtown for a meeting, the two of them now walking hand in hand around Central Park, Sutan drinking coffee while Violet was sipping on tea. The air was crisp, Autumn leaves covering the ground, the people of New York taking in the beautiful day.

“Sutan!” Sutan felt a pull on his hand, Violet stopping dead in her tracks. “Sutan, look!”

He turned his head, not even registering what was happening before Violet had shoved her tea and bag into his arms, letting go of him to make a beeline towards a couple that were walking a small dog.

“Excuse me-” Violet cleared her throat, catching the couple’s attention. “Can I pet your dog? Please?”

“Of course!”

The couple smiled, and Sutan watched as Violet crouched down on the ground, quickly taking off her gloves and handing them to Sutan so the pug could sniff her fingers.

“Hey there, hello gorgeous, hi,” Violet smiled, her hand soon running over the puppy’s head, scratching it behind the ears. “That’s it, that’s a good boy.”

Sutan tilted his head. He had never seen Violet interact with a pet before, and somehow, he had assumed that she would be either a pet hater or a cat person, but she looked genuinely happy, and completely in love with the dog.

“What’s his name?”

“Dough. It’s his first trip to Central Park, he’s been looking forward to it all week.”

“Really?” Violet looked up, her smile never wavering as she chatted with the couple about the dog. “Oh Sutan, look how cute he is.”

“He’s very-”

“Who’s a good boy?” Violet grinned, cutting off Sutan as she scratched the pug’s chin. “Who’s a good boy?”

Sutan took a sip of his coffee, hiding a grin as Violet’s bag dug into the crock of his elbow. He had never seen Violet so willingly talk to strangers, had never seen her be so overly excited about anything that wasn’t related to fashion. He took another sip, pocketing Violet’s gloves as he watched her play with the dog, a sense of calm washing over him as Violet made Dough chase his own tail.

[ducktracy]

185. porky’s hero agency (1937)

release date: december 4th, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: bob clampett

starring: mel blanc (porky, emperor jones), tedd pierce (gorgon, assistant), sara berner (porky’s mom)

the final porky cartoon for 1937, and what a busy year it’s been for him! hard to believe he had an entirely different voice, look, and demeanor just 8 months prior. even then, his character still had much to explore, as we see here—in this cartoon, he’s cast as a child again. curiously, bob clampett is often credited as the one who refined his personality into the one we know today (he did give him his iconic suit and tie), but, like everything else, it was more of a collaborative exploration by all of the directors.

the title card is one of the more interesting title cards in the warner bros. repertoire—it’s a photo of a porky statuette! bob clampett would make several statues during his time at WB and distribute them to his top animators. while the statue in the credits is painted over, you can view an unpainted model here!

here, porky dreams of the wonders of ancient greece, prancing around as the mythological messenger parkykarkus. however, a gorgon has her sights set on turning him into stone, and it requires some quick thinking from porky to weasel his way out of this mess.

bobe cannon animates the expositional sequence, with porky propped up in bed, sucked into a giant book full of greek myths. his mother (offscreen) tells him it’s time to go to sleep, but porky objects, protesting that he was just at the exciting part. cannon’s animation is easy to spot with his trademark buck teeth, yet the gestures he gives porky--finger points, turning the page, etc.--give him a nice dose of youthful energy as he recaps the story, telling tales of gorgons and “great great great” greek heroes.

nevertheless, a disembodied hand turns out the light, dismissing porky’s protests. he heaves a resigned sigh, lamenting how he wishes he could be a great greek hero. 

the cartoon doesn’t make any attempts to keep the dream sequence a surprise--instead, the face of the book’s cover takes up the entire screen, the pillars emblazoned on the front melting to life as we fade into ancient greece. and, as to be expected, our favorite porcine hero proudly stands in front of the building, proudly advertising “HERO FOR HIRE AGENCY -- PORKYKARKUS PROP.”

porkykarkus is a play on parkykarkus (”park your carcass”), a character on eddie cantor’s radio show “the chase & sanborn hour”. truck into porky’s services as he narrates over the specials:

“has anybody any eh-deh-deah-deah-dragons you want seh-seh-sleh-slay-slaye--rubbed out? or maybe ya have some, uh, fair meh-mai-meh-maide--honeys ya want rescued! it’s a peh-pleasure. is your daughter safe? phone eh-peh-porkykarkus at olympia 2222!”

porky’s narration, as always, is fun to listen to, and the physical advertisement has its own charm and appeal, with discounts and deals on certain rescues. not only that, but it’s a damn smart way to save money, having just the narration over the still frame. smart thinking!

conveniently, porky gets a phone call, sparking the tried and true “gear up for a big sprint but merely tinker on over to your destination” gag. as porky answers the phone, filling us in by repeating the hidden dialogue from the other line, we find out it’s the emperor--he wants one hero to go.

chuck jones’ layouts stick out quite strongly throughout this cartoon, especially in the human designs. porky’s statue of mercury is no exception--the bulbous nose and rounded body construction are all surefire trademarks of his work. porky grabs the messenger’s hat and winged shoes from the statue, never once taking a beat to stop as he hobbles along, dressing as he prepares to head out. woodblock sounds simulate the sound of his hooves clopping, but also add an extra jaunty jive to the merry score of “have you got any castles?” in the background, the cartoon’s motif. it would also be a merry melody courtesy of frank tashlin not even a year later.

with that, porky takes off, soaring in the skies like a pro with his winged shoes. if the scene wasn’t appealing enough with the overhead layouts, the animation of porky steadying himself is wonderfully smooth and fun--the cherry on top. he circles the palace where the emperor is located, swooping down to his destination. complete with airplane sound effects, of course.

“howdy, empy!” another bulbous-nosed jones character silences porky from behind his armchair. emperor jones (boy, who could that name reference, i wonder?) speaks in a ridiculously hilarious dialect, completed with a thick accent: “shh! i’m making a fireside chat with my sheeps!” his voice then slips into a rooseveltian draw as he coos “my friends, grecians and customers, this is emperor jones speaking...”

pan to the audience, which consists of a sea of smiling statues. this entire speech sequence is wonderful--not only is his terrible grammar terribly amusing, (”statistics show... what last season at this time was population in greece from 6,000 with 500 with 54 people, with 17 statues.”) but little touches such as one of the audience statues roasting marshmallows and later a hotdog over the fireplace, the emperor making his audience clap by pulling on ropes tied to their arms, and so forth make the entire charade highly amusing with lots of details to look out for. porky standing idly in the background, awkwardly fidgeting as he tries not to intrude is a great little piece of character animation as well.

the emperor gives the skinny, all while chowing down on a hotdog: a gorgon has been turning more and more people into statues, and they need a hero to steal her life-restoring needle in order to turn all of the statues back into humans again. the hero he has in mind is, of course, porky, who bashfully accepts the offer. when the emperor asks those in favor to raise their right hand, he pulls on a lever that causes all of the statues to raise their hands in unison, including a hand on a nearby clock. with a handshake, empy concludes “it’s a deal!”

one of the most impressive pieces of animation in the cartoon (i actually dedicated an entire drawing to it!) is when the emperor sends porky on his way, who waves goodbye as he flies through the air with his winged shoes. just as he tips his hat, he knocks into a pillar, which sends him tumbling upside down, but still airborne. the wings on his shoes form hands as they shake their fists in the glory of the good landing, with porky flashing a cheeky grin to the audience before spiraling lower in the air, regaining his balance, and barreling onward towards a smoldering volcano. the animation is full of life and character--though porky is consistently jolly in the B&W clampett cartoons, the grin towards the camera as he prides himself in his save is a great little touch of personality. slowly but surely, bits of character are now becoming more defined.

a gag that took me just now to recognize it--porky swoops into the heart of the volcano, where we spot the source of the black fumes pouring out the top: the gorgon statue factory. a merry score of “you’ve got something there” serves as some easy listening as we’re treated to a sign gag:

outside of the factory is a human picket fence, comprised of familiar faces: statues of bobe cannon, norm mccabe, john carey, bob clampett himself and chuck jones surround the area. directly outside of the factory is the frozen statue of a salesman with his foot in the door--the joke is not only amusing, but the pose is quite strong and readable, too. though nowhere near the dynamism of frank tashlin’s poses in the mid ‘40s, clampett’s poses in this cartoon are quite defined and exaggerated for the time period. this is especially sharp in the scenes with the emperor.

porky knocks on the door held ajar by the ceramic statue’s foot, holding out an envelope. “telegram for the guh-geh-gee-geh-gee-gor-geh--” a hand snags the envelope out of porky’s grip, causing him to mutter “aww, nuh-neh-nee-nuh-neh-neh-nut--shucks,” a phrase he echoed in clampett’s previous entry, rover’s rival.

we transition to the inside of the factory, where we see the gorgon herself, positioned in front of a camera, awaiting to take “pictures” of her models. tedd pierce voices the gorgon, whose vocal stylings are a parody of tizzie lish, bill comstock’s character on al pearce and his gang. interestingly, the cartoon before this, the woods are full of cuckoos, featured a caricature of lish as well, also voiced by pierce. 

clampett and pierce’s comedic timing is sharp--not nearly as sharp as tashlin’s timing in the woods are full of cuckoos, but abundantly amusing nonetheless. the gorgon asks for a boy--”a sorta young-ish one”--and in comes a decrepit old man who can hardly hold himself up. the gorgon waits for the man to assume his position on the podium where his picture will be taken, singing a pitchy rendition of “am i in love?“, another homage to the characteristics displayed by lish’s character on the radio.

the gorgon snaps her photo, which turns the shaky old man into a stone statue at once, cheekily labeled “ANTIQUE --  $60,000 (P.S.: 000,000)” before he’s yanked off of the podium with a cane. 

“now let’s try a group picture.” you know it’s a ‘30s cartoon if the three stooges come waddling in--they made their caricatured, cartoon debut in the 1934 film the miller’s daughter, notorious for being chuck jones’ first animation credit. as expected, they all beat the tar out of each other while on the podium, rendered immobile only through the power of medusa’s camera. they turn into the three wise monkeys, labeled “3 MONKEYS OF JAPAN -- MADE IN GREECE”. 

norm mccabe’s animation is easy to spot in the next scene with porky, characterized by his signature double eyebrows. porky knocks on a door, parroting a favorite catchphrase from the al pearce show that frequented many a clampett cartoon: “i hope she’s eh-eh-at home, i hope, i hope, i hope, i hope, i hope...”

porky shakes the hand of the assistant, unfortunately a blackface caricature (save for the voice, who is just tedd pierce speaking in a deep, suave voice) as he greets “welcome, stranger. won’t you come in?” before porky has time to answer, he’s yanked through the iron bars of the door and placed neatly in line for the photoshoot, where he peeks through the door to see the action inside.

a pile of men form a pyramid, where the camera turns them into a literal statue of a pyramid, with some slight imperfections. “aw, shucks!” laments the gorgon. “you moved!” she approaches them with her life restoring needle, allowing the men to form into the proper position, maintaining good balance. she gets her “genuine egyptian statue”, quipping “ought to make a handy paperweight!”

the assistant informs porky that he’s next. porky backs up anxiously, echoing a short-lived catchphrase of his from the joe dougherty era: “nuh-neh-no! eh-nn-nee-no! a-a thousand times no!” the decision to make his thoughts visible (his head is slapped onto that of a piggy bank’s) is playful, and also reflects just how big of an influence comics had on bob clampett’s work: comic artists such as milt gross and george lichty have been cited by clampett as inspirations. the george lichty influence is definitely noticeable in rod scribner’s animation under bob clampett, as we’ll discover in the coming years.

in the midst of his panic, porky backs into a statue of "dick a. powello” (dick powell and apollo), causing it to break. but, rather than fuss over the mess, porky uses the opportunity to hatch an idea instead.

in comes strolling porky, concealed by powello’s upper body and a blankett hiding his hooves. the triumphant score of “he was her man” and the gorgon’s smitten woos makes the scene hilarious as is, but the blanket falling off and revealing porky’s pudgy little hooves is the icing on the comedic cake.

porky perches himself on a conveniently placed couch, where the gorgon approaches him. “pardon me, is this seat taken?” she doesn’t wait a wink before snuggling right up to him, a heart symbolizing her affections popping in the air. though clampett would play with typography at times and maintain an overarchingly jovial mood to his cartoons, it’s an odd thing to see him play with comic-like visuals in this manner, such as porky physically envisioning himself as a piggy bank or the heart from the gorgon. i wish he had done it more in this nature!

with the gorgon too close for comfort, porky uses this as an opportunity to grab the gorgon’s life-restoring needle, dangling from her neck and lying against her body. it wouldn’t be a clampett cartoon without sexual innuendos--porky reaches aimlessly around for the needle, prompting the gorgon to let out a shriek, cooing “why, mr. a POWELLo!” 

she smothers the ceramic head in kisses, giving him a nice lipstick finish to boot as she pretends the statue has given her a ring. her ecstasy is hilarious and WONDERFULLY conveyed through strong, rubbery poses worth freeze-framing. picturing porky’s befuddlement is another humor within itself. 

finally, porky’s disguise is revealed when the gorgon literally crushes the statue in an embrace, stone crumbling around him as he desperately slips out of her grip. as the gorgon makes threats to call the cops, reciting the WB favorite catchphrase of “calling all cars! calling all cars!”, porky makes with the needle and jabs it in various statues, warning them “uh-geh-uh-get goin’! i-i-eh-it’s the guh-geh-geh-eh-geh-gorgon!”

as the gorgon chases porky with her camera, he continues to revive a barrage of statues: the antique, the famed discus thrower (who throws himself out of the scene rather than the discus), the man from the end of the trail statue, who exits riding his horse like a merry go round (a nod to friz freleng’s sweet sioux), a woman who marches off with popeye’s forearms--note the bobe cannon statue in the back here--and a mermaid who unzips her fin and makes a run for it. the highlight of the entire montage is when porky approaches two temples (the two of them together labeled “shirley temple”) and injects the needle into them, prompting the temples to use their pillars as legs and run for the hills.

the chase reaches its climax as the gorgon pursues porky with a movie camera, turning the crank ferociously as she runs. her plan works--porky slows down, freezing in mid-air as the gorgon cries “hold it!” thus, the gorgon pins porky to the ground, who tries his hardest to fight back, but ultimately flailing around as she commands him to open his eyes.  

we melt into the present, where we find porky’s mother in place of the gorgon, telling him softly to wake up. he does so, after she pries one of his eyes opens. relieved that it was all a dream, he embraces his mother, prompting a happy end and an iris out.

this cartoon has a soft spot in my heart--it was one of the first LT cartoons i saw on this whole venture. i thought i was the smartest person alive, understanding the three stooges, popeye, and shirley temple references. who knew just how much i had (and still have!) to learn! though even without my sentimental biases, this still stands as a very good cartoon.

as i mentioned previously, the poses in this are full of elasticity and energy, especially in the emperor and the gorgon. porky does a very nice job as well--little pieces of animation such as him fidgeting awkwardly while the emperor rambles on, swinging from side to side as he’s offered the job to be a hero, etc. etc. are full of charm and character. while his personality isn’t the most electric in comparison to characters like bugs and daffy, it’s the little things like these that really make porky stand out. with him, a little subtlety goes a long way, and that’s why he’s one of my favorites. he’s so reserved in comparison to such a wild cast of characters that his timidness actually shines through and sets him apart! (though, on the other hand, he can still have quite the personality, as we’ll discover!)

personally, the only gripes i have with this cartoon is the blackface caricatured assistant (which, in comparison to some cartoons we’ve seen and still have yet to see, is relatively mild, but uncomfortable nonetheless). the jokes, while corny at times, still hit, the animation is full of life and vigor, and the short as a whole has a lot of charm, whimsy, and personality. it has my seal of approval! go check it out!

link!

[bonesgadh]

My thoughts on the final season of Orange is the New Black:

Obviously, some heavy spoilers below:

If you ask me, Piper’s storyline outside Litchfield was, for the most part, a complete waste of time. Instead of having her getting stoned with her brother or going to that pointless retreat, why didn’t they have her doing something productive like helping other former inmates or writing her book?

Speaking of the book, I’m high-key disappointed they gave the memoir storyline to Judy fucking King. Call me cheesy but I was looking forward to the show ending with Piper writing her book just like she said she would in season 6. Such a missed opportunity.

I really, really wanted Taystee to be cleared of Piscatella’s murder. I don’t understand why they gave so much importance to Suzanne writting what really happened and Taystee showing the text to her lawyer if it wasn’t going to make a difference in the end. Chekhov’s gun, anyone?

I’m so relieved she didn’t kill herself. I guess as long as there’s life there’s hope fucking Cindy will confess the truth and justice will be served. In the meantime, I was happy Taystee found a new meaning to her life and decided to help other inmates have a better shot at rebuilding their lives after prison.

Daddy’s death caught me by surprise. That said, I didn’t notice her absence at all for the reminder of the season. I guess she was a one-hit wonder character.

I have the feeling they had no idea what to do with Frieda so they just had her do weird stuff like accumulating trash. 

Thank Christ they got rid of Badison so early in the season. Cringiest, most annoying character in the history of television.

Aleida is so stupid lmao. I get she wanted to protect her daughter from that pedophile but she fucked up. I was rooting for her to rebuild her life and I was disappointed at her.

I liked Suzanne coming to terms with her sentence and being more comfortable around people and making new friends. It’s what she deserves.

Why is Cesar out of jail? Didn’t Aleida say he was supposed to stay there until he was an old man?

So Yadriel isn’t Pepa’s biological father?

Shani, man. Her relationship with Nicky was so cute and you could tell she was different from Nicky’s other flings. She didn’t act like a stallion around her, she was sweet and considerate with her and her backstory was very sad. I’m pissed they weren’t endgame because they made such a good couple.

There was no need to kill off Lorna’s baby. That was unnecessary roughness.

What happened to Maritza left me devastated. That final sequence of her getting into the plane and all the other women who were deported as well slowly disappearing until there was no one left gave me fucking chills. It was tough to watch but it had to be done to make a point of how a good portion of the immigrants who get deported are young adults who have never lived anywhere else besides the US, but still they are not considered citizens.

I absolutely adore Fig. Her character development was one of the best in the show. Also I LOVE HER RELATIONSHIP WITH CAPUTO OMG.

Piper’s sister-in-law is annoying af. I bet she is one of those anti-vaccinations freaks.

Alex looked so damn hot in her flashback oh my god. 

Goodall is adorable! For real, what a gorgeous baby.

I was not expecting CO Fischer to make a comeback.

Healy is still a piece of shit.

I can understand why Piper developed feelings for Zelda. She represented the potential life she could lead now that she was a free woman, the opportunity to start over and leave prison behind (like Sophia advised her to). However, there wasn’t anything exciting about being with her, it was way too safe and that’s the exact opposite of what she had with Alex. 

Polly is even more annoying than she was before but Larry didn’t get on my nerves this time around, which surprised me. Maybe because his little prep talk is what pushed Piper to follow Alex to Ohio or maybe it was the nostalgia. Idk, but they brought him back in a nice way.

I felt really bad for Vinnie. He wasn’t only grieving for his son but he also had to see Lorna fall into that complete state of denial.

Sophia’s comeback was everything. She looked like a goddess and she seemed so happy and in control of her life. I thought we wouldn’t see her again after she got released from prison but I’m glad they managed to bring her back even for a couple of scenes.

Totally random statement but Piper looked very attractive at the benefit gala and the morning after. I don’t know if it was the hair or the way they did her eyes but she was smoking hot.

Danielle Brooks is the best actress in the show. Don’t @ me.

McCullough is the archetype of the psycho ex. I legit thought she was going to shoot Piper when she confronted her at her house.

Alex knows Piper so damn well. She is aware of the fact that Piper tends to run away from stuff when things get complicated and her choosing to have an affair with McCullough was her way to try to protect herself. Then again, I really thought they had moved on from that phase. 

Fig lying about being pregnant to help that woman get an abortion was such a strong moment. Also her calling out the double-standard of the guard who was opposed to the woman aborting but wanted her to get deported? Legends only.

Lorna is such a racist but I can’t bring myself to dislike her. If anything I’ve always felt a bit sorry for her.

Linda is such a bitch.

Tamika was the only warden who actually cared about making a difference. I’m sad she got fired because of something that wasn’t even her fault but her good deeds made a profound impact.

McCullough is so damn unstable but I can’t blame her for developing such strong feelings for Alex. She’s quite irresistible.

Alex acting all unattached and cold as she was breaking up with Piper was painful to watch. I knew it wasn’t real but for a hot second I thought that was it for them. 

The ICE storyline was out-of-this-world amazing. So powerful and brilliantly done, quintessential OITNB.

If you had told me six years ago I would cry like a baby with Pennsatucky’s death I would have laughed at you.

But for real, POOR PENNSATUCKY. I’m sorry she had to die for Taystee to stay alive.

Because of the ‘a fan-favorite character dies in the final episode to mark the end of the show’ trope I had the feeling they were going to kill either Red, Alex or Taystee. I was legit surprised when the final death was revealed to be Pennsatucky.

That Poussey flashback had me in tears.

Alex and Nicky’s goodbye scene was so sweet and I love they talked about eventually reuniting. They were my brotp.

What Larry told Piper when she visited him at his place was very interesting. When Piper told him she loved Alex he told her he believed her, but that he also thought she loved what Alex represented. I believe that was true at some point—well, for most of the series—and, unconsciously, Piper believed that as well. But, if anything, what they went through in season 7 helped Piper realize she did want to be with Alex. The extra limb analogy was amazing and I don’t think Jenji could have picked a better way to explain their relationship.

Hellman is the new warden? Gross.

My favorite part about the old inmates’ cameos was that they were shown doing the same stuff they did in Litchfield: Boo being tired of everyone’s bullshit, Yoga giving the mandala talk to new inmates, Gina feeling exasperated and Norma calming her down, Watson running and Alison checking her time, Angie and Leanne being stupid, Brook mooning over stuff.

I only missed two characters making a cameo: Sister Ingalls and Miss Claudette. I know most fans wanted to see Bennett again but fuck that coward.

Also wtf happened to Bayley? I kinda wanted to know.

Karla’s story broke my heart. I’m glad they included her character because her story is the story of millions of immigrants that are separated from their children, forced to return to their home countries and endure harsh conditions while trying to make their way back to the US.

Blanca really went out there and said “fuck it” to the american dream, didn’t she? In my opinion she had the best ending out of all the characters. I’m so happy she reunited with Diablo and is ready to live her life with him at last. My girl deserved it.

Maria’s storyline was so ‘meh’. It was way too similar to her season 6 storyline.

My mom Gloria had the second best ending. I was afraid they were going to punish her because of the phone thing but thankfully asshole Luschek finally did something right. I was rooting for her to have a happy ending and I’m glad she got it.

Also was that little girl living with Gloria and her kids her granddaughter? Because she was definitely younger than her sons but Gloria’s flashback stated her daughters are older, so I’m confused.

I really need to know if Aleida killed Daya. I hate it was left so open.

Flaca choosing to help immigrants was so sweet. I bet one of the reasons she did it was to stop them from suffering Maritza’s fate.

Fig and Caputo are adopting!

Cindy did not deserve a good ending after she ruined Taystee’s life. That made me so angry. I was really hoping she would confess the truth.

In the end, McCullough made Alex a favor by having her transferred to Ohio. She went back to minimum security, she was with friends and people she knew and far away from all the crap in max.

What happened to Red and Lorna was devastating. Red losing her identity and her memory was so tragic because of what a badass she was. Also I knew Lorna would lose it after her son’s death but it was heartbreaking. They deserved better.

It sucks balls Nicky lost every person who was important to her but despite that I liked her ending because, even though she suffered heartbreak after heartbreak, she found a way to keep herself sober and now she will help others the way Red helped her. It was the best way she could honor her.

Despite literally everyone around Piper advising her to leave Alex behind and forget about her (from her parole officer to her dad to Larry to Sophia) the fact that she chose to follow Alex to Ohio was a pleasant surprise to me. It showed her growth and how much she really wanted to be with Alex, and that she was not a mistake in her life but her life. I was never a Vauseman shipper but even I knew they had to be endgame, any other ending wouldn’t have made any sense. I feel bad for the shippers because it was a very tough season for them but love prevailed, so congrats.

I didn’t catch the Piper Kerman cameo until I saw someone mentioned it on twitter. That was so cool! Also I don’t know if this was intentional but I liked the visual parallel between Larry Smith & Piper and Piper Kerman & Alex. Larry waited for Piper for as long as she was in jail and never abandoned her, so I choose to believe Kenji and Co. are hinting at Piper doing the same thing for Alex.

It was a good decision to show us a glimpse of Piper’s new life. She has a stable job, a new home, she is studying about criminal law and using her time in a productive way, and also she looks happier than we ever saw her.

In conclusion, I liked the season very much. Orange is one of my favorite shows and I think they ended it in a very nice way. It was very well executed and, unlike other final seasons I have watched over the years, it never felt rushed to me. It was the best season in at least a couple of years and I’m in love with the series finale, I stand by my original statement that it is the best one I have ever seen.

I give it a solid B+, four-out-of-five stars, 8.5 out of 10.

Orange forever, indeed.

[voltage-vixen]

MC Gifting the Evolvers Chocolate

Valentine’s Day Countdown--- Day 3

AO3

Prologue: After a spending a LONG night baking the perfect chocolate hearts to celebrate Valentine’s Day, MC is finally ready to share them with her boyfriend.

However, she was bummed to later find out that her guy was stuck at work. Nevertheless, she was more determined than ever to share her tasty treats with her guy, so she decided to pay him a quick visit on the job.

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

Victor: MC knocked on the door to Victor’s office, and cautiously trudged inside when she didn’t hear any response.

“Victor?”

She approached his desk and tried to take a quick peek at the black planner he had left out, until Goldman came charging in, wearing a panicked expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to miss your arrival-oh, it’s only you MC! You have no idea how glad I am to see you here,” Goldman sighed in relief.

“Hi Goldman! I know Victor had mentioned he was going to be in and out of meetings all day today, but I wanted to stop by and drop off some of the chocolate I made for him.”

MC noticed Goldman gazing longingly at the box of chocolates in her hands, and she generously offered the box to him.

“Would you like a piece? I made plenty of extras,” MC assured.

Goldman’s eyes lit up at the prospect, but then hurriedly shook his head.

“I appreciate the offer, but sadly I must decline. The boss probably wouldn’t be happy about that,” he sadly murmured.

MC couldn’t stand to see Goldman look so pitiful. She opened the box and started to hand him a piece.

“Don’t worry, it can be our little secret,” she promised.

MC reached over and was about to place the chocolate in his open hand, until a loud voice boomed throughout the room.

“I know you’re a dummy, but you really wouldn’t be that big of an idiot to give something that rightfully belongs to me away, now would you?”

Flinching because she recognized the voice, MC turned to see Victor standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, and not looking very amused.

“I swear I didn’t take a single bite!” Goldman cowered, before fleeing out the doorway and leaving MC alone with the furious CEO.

“Victor, you’re here! I made something for you,” MC chirped, trying her best to ignore the death glare Victor was shooting her.

She slowly walked over and held out the box of chocolates.

“I worked really hard on them. I hope they taste good!” MC prodded encouragingly.

Victor sighed and dubiously grabbed a piece.

“Is this even edible? Am I going to be poisoned if I eat this?” Victor sneered, while holding the chocolate up closer to his face to examine it.

“Hey!” MC pouted. “If you’re going to insult my chocolate, then I’m sure Goldman would be more than happy to take it off your hands.”

MC went to snatch the chocolate away, but Victor quickly popped it into his mouth.

“Not bad,” he complimented. “A bit dry, but still passable considering you were the one who made it.”

He patted MC’s head, and shared a small smile with her.

“Thank you for not killing me with your cooking. Your skills still have a long way to go, and I would graciously volunteer to share a few pointers with you,” Victor prompted.

Victor glanced at the clock on the wall and turned to leave his office.

“I’m due for another meeting, but you better answer your phone when I call you later,” he gruffly ordered.

“And, MC?”

He paused before disappearing down the hallway and faced his girlfriend.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Lucien: MC was in the bathroom brushing her teeth, when she heard the doorbell ring.

Who could that be?

Rushing to finish brushing, she raced over to answer the door, and was shocked to see Lucien standing there. MC stood there gaping at her unexpected visitor, until Lucien gently moved her aside and walked into her apartment.

“I hope you don’t mind my unannounced visit,” he commented. “Since today is Valentine’s Day, I had a theory you would be stopping by, so I thought I would make things easier on you. Was my hypothesis correct?”

Lucien’s gaze drifted over to the plate of chocolate MC had left out on her table. MC saw he noticed her homemade treats, and she rushed over to cover them.

“I’m sorry, I was planning on wrapping them before I came over,” she explained.

Just as MC was about hide the chocolate, Lucien swiped the plate from her grasp.

“Making me wait at this point would be just be plain cruel,” Lucien provoked. “Such cruelty should be punished accordingly. I propose that you feed me each one of the chocolates until I am fully satisfied.”

Lucien used his teeth to grab one of the chocolates, and then dropped it into MC’s open hand. She gulped as she felt Lucien’s tongue deliberately lick her hand, before scooping up the small piece of chocolate. Amused by MC’s flustered reaction, Lucien chuckled and reluctantly pulled away. MC wiped her hand with a towel, and Lucien admired the way her bows creased when she pouted.

“It seems that you have learned your lesson for now,” he crooned. “Perhaps I shall return after my time in the lab, and continue our little session?”

“Ugh, y-yeah! I mean, I would very much like that,” MC muttered, feeling the blush form on her face.

“Silly girl,” Lucien chortled. “Make sure you’re ready for me later. And get plenty of rest in the meantime. I can’t promise that your punishment is going to be an easy one.”

Kiro: “Ah! What are you doing?” MC cried out, as someone suddenly yanked her into a storage closet.

“Shh! Miss Chips, it’s just me!” Kiro beamed brightly at his confused girlfriend. “I didn’t want my manager to see you, so I decided that we would have an adventure and sneak away together!”

Kiro’s cheeks abruptly turned pink, and he awkwardly scratched the back of his head while gesturing towards the bag MC was holding.

“Also, I figured you might have a special treat for me since today is Valentine’s Day,” the superstar shyly admitted.

MC giggled at how cute Kiro was when he was bashful, and restlessly pacing around in suspense for his chocolates. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, MC swiftly rummaged through her bag until she came across the neatly decorated gift bag that contained his chocolates.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she professed.

Wasting no time, Kiro quickly tore into the bag, and immediately shoved the chocolatey goodness into his mouth.

“Oh my god, this tastes so good!” Kiro exclaimed, while still happily chomping down on his dessert. “I can feel the chocolate melting in my mouth. You’re an incredible cook, Miss Chips!”

Kiro swallowed the last of the treat, and then threw his arms around MC.

“Thank you for such a wonderful gift,” he murmured.

MC blushed as Kiro placed a sweet peck on the tip of her nose. He was about to kiss her more thoroughly, until they heard a knock on the door.

“Kiro? Are you trying to hide from me again?”

MC heard his manager sigh in exasperation, as Kiro covered her mouth with one of his hands.

“I swear, I don’t know what I’m going to do with him,” the manager mumbled.

The pair heard his footsteps grow fainter, and Kiro finally uncovered her mouth.

“I should probably be getting back now but do me a favor and keep tonight open! I’m going to make sure I wrap everything up here at a decent time, and then I’m yours for the rest of the evening. I pinky promise.”

Gavin: “Alright everyone, I’m leaving now,” MC called out to her colleagues.

“Where are you going, boss? Do you have a hot date or something?” Kiki teased.

“Um, no! I just need to drop something off to a certain someone that I cannot name at this time,” MC stammered, trying to cover the redness of her cheeks.

The truth was that MC was going to drop by the police station to surprise Gavin with her chocolates. NOT that she was going to share that information with anyone else! MC would never hear the end of it if she did!

“Look at her face! She totally has a date,” Willow retorted, wanting to join in on the fun of the commotion.

MC looked to Anna for help, but groaned when she saw her snickering in the corner. She was about to lecture her team of employees, when Minor suddenly jumped in front of her.

“MC! I arranged it so you don’t even have to leave! That “certain someone” should be here ANY minute now,” Minor babbled in excitement.

As if on cue, there was a loud bang at the window, and Gavin immediately came racing straight towards MC.

“What happened?! Are you hurt at all?” Gavin desperately questioned, while grabbing the sides of MC’s arms.

“I’m fine! Seriously, I’m fine! Nothing happened,” MC reassured, as she gently pat the top of Gavin’s head.

Gavin took a step back, and MC saw the mixture of both relief and astonishment on his face.

“Thank god,” Gavin muttered. “But then that means…….”

Gavin turned to face Minor, who was now trembling and trying to walk backwards away from the enraged evolver.

“Dude, I can explain! I only wanted you to come see MC, so I MAY have embellished a story to make you rush over here sooner,” Minor stuttered. “Please don’t hurt me!”

Starting to grow concerned for Minor’s safety, MC reached over to tug on Gavin’s hand, and dragged him over to her desk.

“Gavin, you can’t kill Minor! I have something to give you instead, that I think you’re going really enjoy,” MC beckoned.

Grabbing the container she stored the chocolates in, MC timidly handed him the treats she made.

“For me?” Gavin asked, blushing at the thought of her coworkers watching this scene take place.

MC nodded, and impatiently watched while Gavin unwrapped the gift. Gavin tossed the wrapping paper to the side and began to eat the chocolates.

“Hmm, this is delicious,” he uttered.

Seeming to forget that they were in MC’s workplace, he reached over to press his forehead against hers. His thumb massaged a small circle on her cheek, and he brushed her hair to the side of her face.

“Thank you very much,” Gavin breathed. “You always know how to make me happy. Although even your presence alone is more than enough of a gift.”

Gavin was about to lean in and kiss her, but the sound of cheering interrupted him.

“Don’t stop on our account!” Kiki obnoxiously giggled, along with the rest of the office.

“That’s enough,” MC scolded, while leading Gavin over to the door. “Everyone, get back to work!’

“Sorry about all of this,” the producer apologized. “Can I make it up to you after you finish work?”

Smiling, Gavin folded his arms across his chest.

“I would love that. I’ll give you a call when I’m finished up at the station,” Gavin promised, before making his exit, leaving the pair wishing for the rest of the day to go by quickly.

@agustd54, @firepurplestar, @n3vereding16

[spriggan-tail]

Big Bang Event!

This amazing story was written by the talented @superfreakerz! It was super fun working together to make this piece (with @ccrispy modding us :P) ! We hope you enjoy it :)  @nalugruviaevents

Modern/Comedy

Summary: Lucy goes to throw eggs at her ex's house and finds some else is already doing it. She joins the strange, pink-haired boy and gets to know him in the process.

________________________________________________________________ “Run!” 

 Lucy parked down the street, just for safe measure.  Taking a deep breath, she threw her black hoodie on to cover her golden locks of hair, which would only serve to help identify her if left exposed.  She couldn’t have that happen.  Not when what she was doing was technically illegal.

Stashing her wallet in the glovebox, she grabbed the carton of eggs that was sitting on the passenger seat.  She turned on her phone’s flashlight, for she needed to make sure she got the right house.  Taking another deep breath to calm her jittery nerves, the girl mustered up some courage before swinging the car door open and heading out into the night. 

Lucy Heartfilia was a good person.  More than good, actually. She was exceptional.  She had straight A’s, never missed a class, and spread kindness through every person she met.  But tonight, she was going to channel her inner rebel for some revenge.  Tonight, she was going to egg someone’s house.

Not just anyone’s house.  Her ex-boyfriend’s house.  The sleazy dude deserved it after everything he had done. 

Clutching the carton of eggs to her chest, Lucy kept looking over her shoulder to make sure that nobody was around.  It was nearly two in the morning, so the chances of someone going on a stroll were slim to none.  So far, the odds were in her favor.

As Lucy approached the correct house at the corner of the street, her heart dropped to her stomach as she saw someone else.  They were clad in similar clothing as her, black sweats and a black hoodie that shadowed over their face and hid their features. 

Lucy stopped in her tracks.  What kind of person goes out at that time of night in all black clothing?  Only murderers do that!

Then again, I’m out here…”

But that was different.  She was there for justice!  This person, she had no idea what they were doing. 

Swallowing thickly, the girl was about to turn and head back to her car.  Perhaps she could get revenge a different way.  A less dangerous way that wouldn’t get her in trouble.

But then the person turned towards her.

Lucy stifled a scream, willing her legs to turn back and run.  To just run to her car and get the hell out of there. 

“Shit,” she heard the person mutter.  It was a boy judging from their voice. 

Lucy shivered in her spot, sweat dripping down her face.  Her stomach felt like a washing machine as the person began to walk towards her.  Unfortunately, Lucy wasn’t a fight or flight type of person.  She was the kind of person who froze in times like these.  All she could do was watch as the boy approached. 

He stopped just in front of her.  Lucy couldn’t make out any of his features thanks to it being nearly pitch black, along with his hoodie shadowing over his face. 

Great, if he hurts me, now I won’t be able to identify him.”

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut.  If the guy was going to kill her, she’d rather not watch.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, shocking her.

Lucy opened her eyes, peering at him again.  At his rude tone of voice, the fear that had consumed her before was replaced with irritation.  Glaring back at him, she shot back, “Who the hell are you?”

“That’s none of your business!” the boy replied, looking over his shoulders.  “Just get the hell out of here!  And don’t tell anyone you saw someone here!”

“So you are a killer?” Lucy asked, her brows drooping in concern as she took a fearful step back.

“What the hell?  Of course I’m not a killer!  Why would you think that?”

“You just said-!”

“I’m not a killer!  I’m just egging someone’s house!”

Lucy closed her mouth, her eyes growing wide.  Sure enough, glancing down at his hands, she found an egg resting in one of them rather than the gun she was imagining.

“No way,” she breathed out.  “Me too.”

“What?”

“Me too!”  Lucy showed him the carton of eggs. 

“No way!  That’s awesome!”

Lucy pointed her flashlight at the house she was going to target.  There were already some egg remnants splattered over the wood frames.  She turned towards him.

“Wait, why are you egging this house?  Do you know Dan too?” she asked.

“Nope.  I lost a bet and as punishment, I’m supposed to egg this entire street and try not to get caught.”

“Well, you chose a stupid time to do that then.”

“Oi!  You’re out here too, you know!”

“That’s because I know Dan and his schedule.  He’s out right now. But with everyone else, I’m sure they’ll be home sleeping, and throwing an egg at their house will just wake them up.  You need to do it while they’re at work.”

The boy brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing it as he gave an awkward chuckle.  “Huh.  Guess I didn’t think about that.”  He glanced towards the house.  “So, wanna join me?”

“Okay!”

Lucy set down the carton of eggs on the pavement.  Opening it, she grabbed some ammunition.  Her heart pounded in her chest, a wave of excitement rushing over her.  She’d never done anything like this before, and once she was done, she was never going to do it again.  It just wasn’t her scene.

Looking over her shoulders to make sure nobody else was around, the girl chucked an egg at Dan’s house, wincing as she heard it crack against his door.  It was fun, but also terrifying at the same time.  It was exhilarating.

A giddy laugh slipped past the girl’s lips as she covered her mouth with her hands. 

“Wow.  This is actually kind of fun,” she said, turning towards her partner in crime.

“It is, huh?” he replied.  He threw an egg at the house again.  “So, what’s your name?”

“Why?”

“I’d like to know who I’m breaking the law with.”

She giggled.  “I’m Lucy.  And you are?”

“Natsu!  Nice to meet ya, Luigi!”

“It’s Lucy!”

“Yeah, yeah.  Lucy, Luigi, sounds the same to me.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Shut up.”  Grabbing another egg, she furrowed her brows as she threw it as hard as she could at the door.  It landed on the doorknob, bringing a grin to her face.  Next time Dan went to open his door, his hand would land on the slimy yolk.  “He deserves it.”

“So, why’re you egging this dude’s house?” Natsu asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

Lucy shrugged.  “He deserves it.”

“What’d he do?”

“He’s my ex.  He cheated on me.”

“Oh.  Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Lucy replied, waving him off.  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed he cheated on me.  You shouldn’t cheat on anyone.  But we weren’t together that long so it doesn’t sting that much.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Natsu asked.

“Because the girl he cheated on me with is a girl I know from school.  She’s one of the sweetest girls I know, and once she found out he was cheating on the both of us, she was devastated.  Turns out they were together longer than we were, so her feelings ran pretty deep.  I’m doing this for her.  She didn’t ask me to, but the guy deserves it.”

“He sure does,” Natsu replied, throwing three eggs at once.  All of them landed on the window.  “You don’t think he’ll blame you for it if he calls the cops?”

“If he does, I’ll just tell them I saw you doing it.”

“Oi!  That’s just evil!”

“I’m kidding!” Lucy replied, followed by a soft giggle.  “Dan won’t go to the cops.  He hates them. Not to mention there are a lot of people that hate him, he won't be able to pin it on me.”

“Hope you’re right about that,” Natsu replied.  “I can’t afford a ticket, and I especially can’t afford goin’ to jail over a few eggs.”

A content silence fell over the two as they continued to throw eggs at the house.  Every crack against the wood frames made Lucy feel a little bit better.  She’d never been cheated on before now, but it wasn’t a good feeling, no matter how serious she was with Dan.  Revenge was sweet.

And enacting her plan of revenge with an interesting guy at her side was just extra icing on the cake.

“So, do you go to school?” Natsu asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, I go to Magnolia University,” she answered.

“Same here!  Whatcha majoring in?”

“Creative Writing.  What about you?”

“I’m a STEM major.”

“Seriously?”  Lucy turned towards him, her mouth parted wide.  “You don’t strike me as the type.”

“How so?” Natsu asked with a chuckle.

“Well, I just figured STEM majors are stuck studying all the time and not out breaking the law.”

“Ehh, well, studying’s not really my thing.  Breaking the law usually isn’t either, but dares and bets are.  I’m just really good at math and science, and my friend told me I should just get my major and then I’ll be able to get any job I want.”

“Sounds smart enough.”

“What about you?  You write stories?”

Warmth traveled to Lucy’s cheeks.  “Uhh, yeah.”

“You should let me read one!”

Lucy arched a brow.  Was he implying that he wanted to hang out after this whole fiasco?  Her blush deepened.  She wouldn’t oppose to that.  However…

“Nope.  My friend is going to be my first reader,” she said.  Picking up another egg, she aimed for a part of Dan’s house that hadn’t been marked yet.  “But if you want, I can lend you some other books that I like.”

“Nah,” Natsu replied with a shrug.  “I’m not really into reading.  I just wanted to read yours.”

Lucy was glad that it was dark out.  Otherwise, her tomato-red face would have been visible.  

“W-Well, too bad.”  She chucked another egg.  “So, what was that bet you lost anyways?”

Natsu snorted.  “I was at the pub with my friends- you know the one downtown, Fairy Tail?  I was there and my friend Gray dared me to get this one girl’s number.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged.  “Somethin’ about my eating habits disgusted her, so she turned me down.”

“Eating habits?” Lucy thought, trying to imagine someone with bad enough table manners that would prevent them from getting a date.  “I’m sorry you got turned down.”

“Ehh, I’m not,” he replied.  “I wouldn’t wanna go on a date just because of some bet anyways.  Especially with some random girl I don’t even know.”  He turned to her, and the only thing she could see beneath his hoodie was a wide grin.  “Thanks to me losin’ that bet, I got to meet you and end up egging this guy’s house!”

A bright smile spread across her face.  “Then I’m happy you lost.  Now I have a partner in crime.  Literally.”

“Yep!  How old is my partner in crime, by the way?”

“Twenty.  What about you?”

“Twenty-one.  Ha, I’m older!”

Lucy nudged him playfully.  “Don’t get so cocky, it’s only by one year.”

“Listen, kid-!”

Lucy slapped his arm.  “I’m not a kid!”

Natsu cackled, his mischievous laughter filling the air.  Lucy couldn’t help but join in, his laughter contagious.  It wasn’t too high, nor too low.  It was just right.

Talking to Natsu was easy.  Even though they knew next to nothing about each other, she felt like she had known him her whole life.  He was down-to-earth, funny, and had a personality that made her want to get to know him even better.

She hoped he would ask her out by the end of the night.

As Lucy was about to throw another egg, a blinding light appeared as a car turned the corner right next to them.  Squinting at the car, her stomach dropped to the ground as she recognized it to belong to a certain ex of hers.  

“Shit,” Lucy muttered.  “That’s Dan.”

“What!?” Natsu replied, whipping his head towards the car, in which a man started to climb out.  

“Who are you guys?” Dan asked, taking slow step towards them.  “Wait, are those eggs?  Are you egging my house?”

“What do we do?” Natsu whispered to her.

“It’s simple,” she replied.  “Run!”

Grabbing his hand, she made a dash towards the end of the street.  Turned out she could be a flight kind of person as long as she had someone with her. Her heart thrashed around in her chest, partly due to the warm hand locked with hers, but mainly because of the man that was chasing after them.  At least Dan wasn’t much of a runner.

“Where are we going?” Natsu asked.

“My car!  We’re getting the hell out of here!” she answered.  “There it is!”

Reaching the car, Lucy let go of his hand to go to the driver’s door.  She unlocked the car for them, sliding into her seat and locking the doors once Natsu was settled.  She could see Dan charging towards the car in the rearview mirror.  Her hands shook trying to jiggle the key into the ignition before Dan reached them, otherwise he would recognize her.  

“Uhh, feel free to speed it up!” Natsu exclaimed.

“I’m trying!  My hand won’t stop shaking!” she shot back.

Natsu groaned before taking her hand in his.  His large hand covered her smaller one, guiding it steadily towards the ignition.  Once it was in, she quickly turned  key, bringing the car to life.  

“Let’s go!” Lucy shouted, flooring it just as Dan reached the bumper.  The tires screeched across the pavement as the two made their escape.  As Dan’s form slowly started to disappear from the rearview mirror, a boisterous laugh slipped past her lips in excitement.  “We did it, Natsu!  We-!”  

Glancing over at the boy, she found him slouched over and giving hushed groans and occasional whimpers.  

“Natsu?” she asked, her voice laced in concern.  “What’s wrong?”

“Motion… sickness,” he answered, followed by another whimper.

Lucy blanched.  “Motion sickness?  Are you serious?”  He nodded. “That is the lamest thing I have ever heard.”

“Shut up.”

Lucy turned on the carlight to see how he was holding up.  Glancing over at him, she could see that his face was pale and dotted with sweat beneath his hood.  His cheeks were puffed out, a sign that he was going to throw up any second.

A shrill squeal escaped Lucy’s mouth as she shoved her hand against Natsu’s cheek and pushed him towards the window.

“Don’t throw up in my car!” she shouted.

Rolling down the window, she peeked at Natsu and watched as he stuck his head out the window.  His hood flew back in the wind, revealing pink tufts of hair.  Her eyes went wide, her mouth parting slightly.

“You have pink hair,” she said absentmindedly.

“Yeah,” Natsu grumbled in reply.  His voice was strained from his sickness.  “Probably another reason I got turned down for that date.  People aren’t really a fan.”

“I-I like it.”

“You do?” he asked, turning to look at her.

Lucy nodded, ignoring the blush rising to her cheeks.  “Pink is my favorite color.”

Natsu’s lips twitched upwards into a small smile.  “What about you?  I haven’t had the chance to get a good look at you yet. Are you bald or something?”

“Oh, right.  And no I'm not bald, idiot.”  Lucy brought her hand up to her hood before taking it off.  Natsu’s eyes went wide.  “Yeah, I’m just a blonde.”  She’d heard enough blonde jokes to last a lifetime.  She figured he might as well get them out now.

“Your hair isn’t just blonde.  It’s golden!”

She flushed, keeping her eyes on the road.  “Th-Thanks.  So, where do you live?  I need your address so I can drop you off.”

Natsu opened his mouth to reply when his eyes grew to the size of golf-balls.  Shoving his head out the window, he hurled what felt like all of his insides.  Lucy screamed.

“You actually barfed!  It’s illegal to throw up out of a car window while driving!” she cried.

“Well then…  that’s two illegal things we did tonight,” Natsu replied, his head hanging out the window.

“Forget it!  I’ll just bring you over to my place!”

“Wow, Luce.  Shouldn’t you at least ask me on a date first?”

“Don’t joke about dates after throwing up!”

They drove in a content silence until Natsu spoke next. 

“You know, I never finished my punishment for the bet,” he stated.

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked, peeking at him.

“I was supposed to egg the entire street, but we only got Dan’s.”

“Who cares?  I think egging one house is good enough!  I’m sure your friends will understand.”

“Nope.  They won’t.  Only way I can think of getting out of another punishment is managing to get a date like I was supposed to.”

Lucy glanced towards him.  “Oh?  With that girl from before?”

Natsu rubbed the back of his head, his cheeks starting to match his hair.  “I’m sure they’d accept any girl.  So, what do you say?  Wanna go on a date, Luce?”

Lucy’s cheeks were set ablaze.  “A-Are you serious?”

“Yeah of course.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I don’t want to go on a date just to get you out of your punishment.”

Natsu sighed, running a hand through his hair.  “Luuucy!  That was just my attempt to be smooth and you ruined it!  Of course that’s not why I’m asking you out, weirdo!”

“Oh.  Then yes!  I’d love to go on a date with you, Natsu.”

The two shared an eager grin.  Their night was crazy, to say the least.  To think that such a good thing could come out of getting cheated on and losing a bet made them think that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

[tsukoyomi-fumikage]

Movie Night (Mul-Ships)

Not exactly a fanfic I’m proud of, but it possesses a lot of fluffy-good shit. Movie night at the UA Dorms! 

Ships: Denki X Shinso, Jiro X Momo, Shoji X Tokoyami X Koda, Bakugou X Kirishima, Izuku X Todoroki

Now I don’t ship DenkiXShinso, JiroXMomo or IzukuXTodoroki, but I really don’t mind writing fanfiction for them all! (Plus the pairing ShouTokoKoda, I’ve never done that before, but I sort of ship it) This was my first attempt at writing these lot. 

.

Denki Kaminari was beyond excited - Tonight, to celebrate moving in together in the new school dorms, they'd began a new tradition: Movie night! Everyone in class 1-A was invited and somehow, just somehow, the blond had managed to get permission for Shinso to come along to the party. It was going to be so fun!

"Would you stop jumping around?" Came the tired voice of his boyfriend, Hitoshi. The purple-haired teen was sorting out the fixed positions of where everyone would sit for the movie, laying out blankets on the floor to better comfort those sitting on the slightly tough carpet. "Can you help? I don't know who to put here." He pointed at the end of the sofa. "I don't exactly know who's couples in this damn household."

The Class 1-A member looked at the spot. "Hmm, Shoji, Tokoyami and Koji will fit in there." He declared simply before turning to set out the bowls of popcorn. "They can snuggle up - it'll be cute."

"Koji and Shoji I can imagine being boyfriends, but Tokoyami as well?" Shinso gave a low whistle, laying a black blanket down and adorning it with blue pillows. "Damn."

Denki giggled, applying each area with a practically full bowl of sweets and a bowl of snacks. "Yeah but they're so cute together it's unreal."

"We're cute together." The mind-controlling-quirk user whined, brushing back his hair. "Who should sit next to them?"

"Probably Bakugou and Kirishima. Putting the angry-Pomeranian next to the chill kids will be good for the lives of the rest of us. Besides-" He smiled, chucking a pillow in his boyfriends direction and hitting him square on the back of the head. "It means they can smooch and not have to worry about people saying anything."

"You're disgusting...." He seemed as if he wanted to say more, but instead Hitoshi shook his head and went over to the movie selections, rummaging through them quietly.

"We can smooch too if you want!" Kaminari sing-songed. The general-studies student blushed madly, trying to hide his face among the films. "Aw, so cute!" Shinso refused to look at the other boy, but had to agree the idea sounded nice.

"Shut it, Pikachu!" He groaned, trying to sound annoyed. "Let's just find a movie."

.

"Do you know what movie we're watching?" Kirishima asked from Bakugou's bed, watching as the student paced around the room, trying to find his phone. "I hope it's an action or something - ooh, horror sounds good too!"

Katsuki stopped to look at his boyfriend. "It's stupid, that's why I'm trying to find my phone, so I don't have to watch this bullshit."

The hardening-hero pouted in annoyance, sitting up and crossing his arms over his chest. "Oi, that's no way to take a movie night! It's supposed to be fun!" Kirishima was slowly easing towards his best card - "Do it for me?"

They made eye contact just as the older student finally found his phone, and Bakugou snorted. "Fuckin' fine." He dropped the electronic for extra measure. "Only because I love you though." Walking over to the red-haired teen, he sat down besides him, pulling him into a tight hug and pressing his lips dominantly on Kirishima's neck. "You owe me." He growled out.

"I know I do - now let's go!"

.

"Couldn't this have been tomorrow?" Tokoyami yawned, hands raising to his beak embarrassingly. "I'd much rather sleep."

Koji and Shoji looked at their smallest boyfriend, and the feather-headed boy saw the concern in their eyes. "I just had rough hero-work studies." He supplied, stretching tiredly. "But 'm also in dire need of something to do as well."

The pair knew they couldn't ask about the studies as everything was all confidential information that they understood couldn't be shared with them. 'It must be hard working with Hawks' Koda signed, smiling at the dark-quirk user. 'He's such a fast hero.'

"You aren't wrong there." Shoji chuckled, turning away from the two to grab his sleeveless pajama top, quickly changing out of his regular shirt in favor for this one. "Hawks is an amazing hero though, so it must feel great to study him in person."

"It is." He agreed quietly, nodding along and sitting himself on Mezo's bed, curling his legs underneath him. "Anywho, the movie... I think it's going to be a horror - aren't Shinso and Kaminari picking? Definitely a horror." Everyone voiced their agreements with a low hum. It just made sense.

By the end of the conversation, the tallest had changed out of his usual clothing and he transformed a tentacle into a mouth to smile at his boyfriends. "Let's go then - I'm all done now."

.

"You excited, babe?"

Jiro couldn't help but blush at the nickname. "Yeah I am." She confessed, not able to hide the thought of being able to watch a movie with all of her classmates - it in itself sounded like a movie. "I'm good to go, how about you?"

Momo was currently going through drawer after drawer trying to find something suitable to wear. "I think I've found something good, but maybe it's too laid-back for a movie night. Help me?"

The smaller girl jumped off of the school desk situated in the corner, coming up to the younger and looking at the clothing choice. It was a soft red cotton top combined with a dark black pair of joggers and some animal socks. Jiro nodded approvingly. "It looks fine, don't worry. Have you never been to a movie night before? It's supposed to be laid back and chill."

Yaoyorozu smiled softly. "I don't normally watch movies - I prefer books and things much more classical." Her black hair bobbed as she leaned down to pick the clothes up before making her way to her personal bathroom. "Be back in a second." She winked.

"I hope it's some form of musical." She rambled on as her girlfriend got changed. "Or like, a horror film - I haven't seen a horror film in ages!"

"Me too!" Came the muffle from the other room, and the door swung open revealing the teen in her comfy clothes, holding neatly folded regular clothes. Placing them down, she grabbed her phone and then Jiro's hand. "Let's go then!"

.

Midoriya knocked on his boyfriends door, hearing a small 'come in'. Turning the nob, he pushed open the door and leaned against it, eyeing the half cold, half hot hero as he fumbled with his hoodie sleeves, not quite sure whether to pull them down or keep them up. "Are you serious, Todoroki?" He giggled, eyes shining. "You're worried about hoodie sleeves?"

"Yeah." Came the confused voice of his lover. His red and white hair was mixed in the middle as he ran a hand through it, sighing. "I'm just a little nervous." He admitted, smiling sheepishly. "Should I be?"

"What, no, no!" The once quirkless hero gave a smile at the younger. "It's honestly fine, don't worry - movie nights are fun."

Todoroki finally left the sleeves down, walking up to the green-haired teen and placing a kiss on his nose. "You know best." He drawled out, taking his slightly hold hands in his left hand, warming them instantly. "Shall we go, my prince?"

"Oh my God don't call me that!" Deku screeched with embarrassment, hiding his face into the taller's chest. "You're so ridiculous!" He whined, but none the less held his hand as they walked down the corridor to the stairs.

"You love me really."

He sighed. "I do..."

.

"Who's ready for movie night!" Screamed Sero, clutching the remote as he slumped on the sofa next to Ojiro. The tailed-man covered his left ear from the sound of the deafening scream.

"Jesus dude, you just deafened me!"

Tokoyami piped up from the other side of the room. "Me too!"

Bakugou stormed into the room with kirishima trailing behind him. "And me too, you jackass, Present-Mic wannabe." Everyone burst into laughter at the scene. Hanto sunk into the couch, grinning awkwardly. "What movie we watchin' anyway?"

The blond-haired boy that was Denki stood up, coughing in a way that seemed as if he was about to give a toast. "So, ladies and gentlemen." He bowed at his audience - the only person who was finding this amusing was his boyfriend, so no claps bounced back from the crowd. "Ouch, tough crowd - anyway, we're watching IT."

"Called it!" Sato called from where he was sat, raising his arms up and high-fiving Mina, who was grinning like an idiot. "Hagakure you owe me two thousand and five yen!"

"Aw c'mon!"

.

Fumikage was curled up in Shoji's many arms by the time all the murder and actual horror began. Despite the screams emmiting from the TV, the student just turned his body around and pressed his beak tiredly into the teens shirt. "'M goin' to sleep." He slurred, feeling Mezo chuckle against him. "Wake me if somethin' happens."

By the time the smallest had actually drifted off, Koda caught sight of what had happened. "Is he asleep?" Came a small squeak - it was far too dark to sign to his boyfriends, so he knew he had to talk. Shoji lowered his arms a little to reveal the soft-feathered boy cradled in his arms. "Awww."

"How are you finding the movie, Koda?" The taller asked, shifting Fumikage slightly so they both wouldn't get sore. "Not too scary for you, right?"

The Ani-Voice hero shook his head, grinning shyly before turning back to look at the screen. "I'm all good - it's only a little bit scary."

Making another tentacle and changing it into a hand, he slipped it into Koda's own, and watched as Koji jumped before settling and leaning closer to the taller teenager. "Thanks." He whispered.

.

"Ey, Tokoyami is out cold." Denki couldn't hold back the snicker as he leaned against the back of the sofa and his boyfriend collectively. "Guess the horror doesn't scare him that much."

"To be totally honest with you." Shinso didn't looked impressed either. "I thought the movie was supposed to be better."

Kaminari gaped at the purple-haired male. "I'm not wrong - I mean, look at him! He's a clown!"

A sudden rough chuckle cut them off of their thoughts. Bakugou's blond hair flopped loosely as he jolted himself into the conversation. "I agree but shut the fuck up you mind-controlling bastard and you too, dunce-face."

Raising his hands in a silent surrender, the younger smiled in a way he hoped looked non threatening and civilized - he would rather not start a fight. "Alright, alright."

.

"Dude, did you have to do that?" Kirishima was curled up against Bakugou's side, resting his head on his shoulder as he watched the movie. "I was all comfy till you moved."

"Sorry." Katsuki grumbled. "Those idiots deserved telling off - who talks during a movie?"

Ejiro deadpanned, lifting his face to look him straight in the eye. "When we went for our first movie date you yammered on throughout the whole thing, man. And even now you're talking over it!"

Luckily the darkness hid his blush as his boyfriend yabbered on about his behavior towards others and how he did the 'same exact thing as them'. "Alright, I get it!" He snapped and Kirishima grinned, softly poofing his head back onto his shoulder.

"Good, that was getting boring. I love you though~"

"Love you too." He grumbled, voice dripping with sarcasim that obviously meant nothing to the younger as he wrapped his arms around the blond happily.

"Oh mon ami that was gorgeous." The sparkly-hero whispered from the floor, eyes twinkling up at them and mouth stretched in its usual v-shaped smile.

"Shut the fuck up, Aoyama."

.

Jiro was around seventy percent sure Yaoyorozu was asleep from the way her body was slumped against her, heavy and warm. Her breathing was soft and gentle, and the smaller had to try and conceal the squeal of 'Oh my God she's so cute!' .

"To answer your question, yes." Ojiro smiled down at her and she looked up at him, startled at first. "She is asleep."

Hagakure giggled from the other side of the music-loving student. "I can take a photo if you want!"

Although the purple-haired girl thought that maybe Momo didn't want that, she had to give in - Momo had so many photos of her that it just seemed fair. The invisible girl quickly snapped a photo with the flash on, momentarily blinking everyone there. Someone groaned in annoyance off to their far right, and it happened to wake the sleeping student up from her small nap.

She took one look at the giggling girl holding a phone and an embarrassed Jiro and put together the story of what just happened quite quickly. "I'm going to kill you, Haga'." She said sweetly, pursing her lips at the woman that she couldn't even see. "Just you wait."

"You can try!"

.

"What are they even talking about, they do realize this is a movie night right? Not some girls photo-snapping night." Shoto asked quietly from where he was positioned, laying on the back of the couch, knees slightly bent to accompany the weight that was his boyfriend's head.

"It's just them being funny." Izuku said, chuckling at his lovers annoyed confusion. "Just ignore them, Todoroki. Look-" He pointed to the screen which was turned on its side for him considering he was laying sideways. "-The kids are gonna try kill Pennywise."

"Not a smart move." Iida said from besides them, pushing his glasses up. "I would have just called the police." He declared. Shoji laughed from behind them.

"I don't think that's how it works in the movies, Tenya." He spoke softly, as to not wake the slumbering people around him - Koji had only just fallen asleep, and Tokoyami was well out of it now. "It's for effect."

Shoto sighed. "But still, they could've brought more than a couple of lousy axes and a bat." Waving his hands around slightly, he mimicked their horrible fighting. "Ahh, take this, Pennywise! - So stupid."

"They are called the losers club, ribbit." Supplied Asui from the front of the couple. She smiled back at them: "Only makes sense they fight like losers too." Before turning back to the screen excitedly.

The rest of the fight was held in silence until it was confirmed the losers won - "You've got to be shitting me, that clown is so weak!" Screamed Bakugou, making everyone jump about five miles in the air. It was so loud it even woke Tokoyami's Dark Shadow up - the quirk popped out of the body in pure shock.

"Yo, dude, what the fuck I was sleeping."

They all started at the shadow, then burst out laughing. This had to happen more often.

[xiumin-on-this-shit]

A Few Good Men (Part 3 of The Good Girl Series) Ch 1: A Favor

“Do you really think you going out is a good idea?” My brother hums. He is leaning in my doorway, missing a shirt as always. I ignore him as I pull my curls into a bun, focused on making myself somewhat presentable for the first time in months. Leggings and a t-shirt seem like my best option at the moment, even after a week of being cleared, everything hurts. Wonho sighs as he comes over and pushes me to sit down on my bed. He grumbles under his breath as he grabs a pair of my leggings, without hesitation he helps me put them on before setting out in search for at t-shirt. “I’m driving you there.”

I roll my eyes at him, but lift my arms when he yanks my shirt over my head, “Feeling protective today Oppa?”

He glares at me, “You know damn well we all are. You are lucky it’s me who came up and not Jooheon, he’s down stairs ready to call Haneul to tell her to fuck off.”

“I’ve been stuck inside for seven months. I need to get out and stretch, I need to go work.”

“You were in a coma for six of those months and we took you on walks so you wouldn’t get so pale. Wheeling you around like a dead body was not as easy as you would think.”

I can’t help but crack a smile, “I appreciate that and the videos Shownu took were great.”

“Yea, yea,” He sits next to me for a moment, “Thanks for not dying by the way. I don’t think any of us could have handled you not coming home.”

“If this is your attempt at convincing me to stay home you need to do better.”

“I could call Dad.”

“I dare you,” An evil grin spreads across my face, “Call him and tell him Haneul asked for me to stop in for a little bit and you don’t want me to go. It’s not like she is our top customer or anything.”

He sighs again, “I’m driving.”

“Great cause I still can’t. Appreciate the shirt by the way, nice touch,” I laugh as I stare down at our generic t-shirt for the company. It’s royal blue with large white letters that spell Don’t shoot the messenger. Wonho just chuckles as he makes quick work of my socks and runners.

“You good to go down the stairs?”

“I’ll work on that while you get yourself dressed.”

“You sure?”

I nod, shooing him away, “I’ll get one of the others to help.” He listens after a few empty threats, leaving me to my own devices. Standing on too thin legs I make my way across my room and into the hall after him. I am breathless by the time I reach the stairs. Without much thought I plop down on the metal stairs and scoot down with a solid grip on the railing. IM is waiting at the bottom patiently, a small, proud smile on his face.

“All the way down, look at you,” He offers me a hand to get back on my feet. “You heading out?”

“Yep, I’ll only be gone for a little bit. Haneul just wants to check in after everything.”

“She has been extra nice since your shooting,” He points out as he escorts me towards the garage door.

“She feels responsible for me, she’s been like that since we met. I’m sure she’s just going to give me a check up and send me home with a blessing.”

“Let’s hope it’s just that,” Wonho chimes in as he joins us. “Are you feeling like a car or a motorcycle?”

“Motorcycle!”

IM scoffs, “Why do even bother asking?”

We all head into the garage, IM hands me my red leather jacket while Wonho pulls his own black one on. He climbs on the bike and offers me a hand to climb on behind.

“Be safe, okay?” IM warns as he hands us our helmets.

I tsk, “You guys worrying is going to jinx me.”

“I’ll be there the whole time, nothing will happen to her on my watch,” The other man does little to offer our brother comfort. I just roll my eyes at them as I pull my helmet on, hiding my small smile, thankful for their concern. “Ready?” Wonho’s voice echoes through the Bluetooth in my helmet.

I tighten my hold around his waist, putting little effort to hold myself on the gas tank, “Yep!”

IM opens the small garage door, allowing us to zoom out and into the small parking lot outside of the shop. We are buzzed through the tall bar wire fence before we are able to make it to the street. It’s an amazing feeling to have the world rush pass me, the night lights just neon blurs in my peripheral. The ride isn’t that long, Wonho pulls in front of the luxurious looking club and parks his bike there. A valet comes up to us but my brother shoots him away.

“We are just going to be here for a minute,” He tells the other man, “Haneul is just checking in.”

The man nods and quickly escorts us to the door. Hyolyn is there picking at her nails, her eyes shift up to find us standing in the door way and widen almost comically. “The great Natasha lives!” With that she charges at me, nearly taking me to the ground, “I’ve missed that sweet face of yours!”

I smile as I accept her hug, “I’ve missed you too.”

“Hey, hey, hey, get your grubby hands off her,” Wonho easily peels the girl off of me, ignoring her whines and kicks. “We are here to see the boss lady and that’s it.”

“Since when have you been such a mama bear? What happened to your companies ‘you are on your own’ motto?’

I raise my brows at her, “You are a year and a half behind, don’t be stupid.”

Her pout falters as a guilty look settles over her features, “Sorry. Come on, I’ll bring you to her.”

“You good to walk all the way back there?” Wonho questions as we begin the long track into the club.

I nod, “We are going into the lions den, gotta keep a brave face.”

Things are in full throttle with girls all over the place, men young and old alike chasing after them. My brother is hot on my heels the moment he catches sight of a man eyeing me up even in my condition. I let him puff his chest and glare the man down. We reach the door to the back and my whole body is asking me to stop. I’m so tired but I’m this far, I can make it down the hall without collapsing, at least I think I can. Many of the girls wandering through the halls greet me with beautiful smiles, a few offer hugs, some attempt to chat but my brother makes them move along as politely as he can, which isn’t polite at all but I let it slide. My legs are going to give out any moment and I would prefer not to cause a scene.

When we arrive at Haneul’s office Hyolyn knocks once before letting herself in. The moment we step inside Wonho scoops me up to dump me in one of the comfortable chairs in front of Haneul’s desk.

“Can you get her some water?” He all but demands from Hyolyn.

“Please don’t raise your voice at my girls,” A voice warns from behind a room divider near the back corner of the room. Wonho tenses as he crouches down close to me, now using me as a shield to hide from the fierce woman. The tanned goddess comes out with a tray in her hands and a smile on her beautiful face. She clicks over to me in her heels, her black wavy locks bounce with every step against her back. In leather pants and a fire engine red silk blouse, she looks like the boss she is. Her warm brown eyes find my own, her smile becomes more genuine as she sets the tray on her desk and comes to greet me, “How is my favorite little bird doing?”

I chuckle at the old nickname, “I’ve been better but I’ve also been worse.”

“Have your brothers been taking good care of you since your dad has been out? I talked to him earlier today on the phone, he’s upset he couldn’t join us today.”

“Yea, when he got your call last week about that meeting in the states he didn’t think he would be gone this long but those guys there are spoiling him rotten with information. He said he should have your moneys worth when he get home later this week.”

She beams at me, “I can’t wait. Now enough about him, how is your physical therapy going? Do you need anything that I can get you?”

“She’s fine,” Wonho mumbles next to me, earning himself a deadly glare.

“I’m fine, really,” I answer before he can earn her true wrath. “The boy have been great, the doctor visits have been great, therapy has been great. Thank you again for paying for the bills, you did not have to do that. We have more than enough to cover them.”

“So do I. Spending money on my friend is worth every penny. I am just happy you are still kicking, I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to my little bird.” She strokes my head fondly, “I’m still so sorry about this whole thing but I really need a favor.”

I raise my brows at that, “A favor? I know I said I’m fine but I can’t even walk a city block without having to take a break, I can’t go on a job just yet.”

“Wonho, could you step out with Hyolyn for a moment while we chat?”

“No thanks,” He quickly responds.

“I’ll be fine,” I pat his arm reassuringly, “Plus I’m pretty sure I saw Seungcheol oppa out there working. Go harass him for a while.”

It takes a few tugs from Hyolyn to get my brother out of the room, “I’ll be right out here if you need me!” He shouts as she gets him out the door, closing it behind him.

“So what’s this favor?”

She smiles softly, “How about some tea first?” The Latin woman pulls away to return to her desk, she pours me a cup of tea and adds a little sugar and honey before handing it off to me. Leaning against the desk she stares down at me, “I have these friends who lost the person they care about almost a year ago. I am partly the reason she left, so my dear friend is extremely upset with me.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, I was wondering if you would do me the biggest favor and spend a little time with him and one of his brothers.”

“Why me?” I question.

“Drink some of your tea before it gets cold,” she tells me first. She waits until I take a few sips, “You look a lot like the girl. It might help them get some rest if they spend some time with you.”

I hold the cup out to her, “No thank you. Can you please get Wonho oppa? I’m ready to go.”

“Drink, please, I’m not done talking.” She gently shoved it back at me.

I begrudgingly take a big drink in hopes of finishing it and leaving, “I won’t do it. I love you Unni and I appreciate everything you do for me but I can’t do that. Ask me for anything else and you’ve got it.”

“This is the only thing I need. I swear it won’t be anything sexual. Just let them hug you and maybe sleep next to you for a bit. I know you don’t want to, I know the bad memories are all coming back but it won’t be like that. You have my word. They just need a moment of peace, can you please do that for me?”

I want to leave. I want my brother to come and take me home so I don’t have to leave ever again. My hands are shaking, Hanuel silently urges me to drink the last of my tea before taking the clattering cup and saucer away. She set that aside, crouches down in front of me and rubs my knees in a attempt to calm the shakes that erupt through my body. Part of me feels as if I have to say yes, Hanuel got me to where I am now, I should be able to do this favor for her.

“I can’t.”

“It’s okay little bird,” she moves to hug me, resting my head in the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you upset. Just breath okay? You should feel okay in a minute.”

My toes are tingling. Then my fingers are, panic attempts to set in but is pushed away by a sudden sense of calm. The shaking stops.

I choke out a cry as realization creeps in.

“You didn’t.” I hope and pray she didn’t do this to me but the familiar feeling of a sedative cocktail begins to buzz through my whole body. I choke out a cry as the world begins to go fuzzy. “No, no, no! I don’t want to go to sleep!”

She just shushes me, my body slowly going numb, “It okay, it’s okay, you’ll just take a good rest and then everything should be fine. You’ll do so good.”

“Please don’t make me,” my words begin slurring together.

Haneul ignores my pleas, kissing the top of my head and rocking me gently back and forth. She mumbles under her breath to me as everything fades away, “Everything will be okay little bird.”

[warriorofdragons]

Light in the Dark Chapter 1: Call for Help

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: blood, language, hospital scenes

Hands shaking you scroll through your phone looking for the new contact you had created. Finding it you tap on it and then pause. Staring at the number on your screen labeled MTF you exhale shakily.

This was a last resort.

There’s no telling if they’d even actually help you. But you’re running out of time. You tap the number and hold the phone up to your ear. You listen to the dial tone and spare a glance at your right side. Crimson is seeping through your clothes and coating your hand as you try to staunch the blood. Struggling to keep your eyes open, you draw in a shaky breath and silently plead for someone, anyone to pick up.

                                                        *******

Kandomere was busy looking over the case file with his team. Trying to piece together what little they knew about this Bright and where to find her based on her last known location.

A week and a half they’ve been on the hunt.

And a week and a half it’s been raining almost non-stop with no signs of slowing. The only solid evidence they have to go on is the security footage and eyewitness testimony from a convenience store. Two gunmen had attempted to rob the orcish store clerk when she had intervened. Using magic she had easily disarmed them, forcing them to flee. The store clerk in his testimony had said that he had demanded that she leave, having become frightened of her and even threatened to call the Magic Task Force on her. To which he inevitably did. She had fled the scene before agents could arrive to apprehend her and little has been seen of her since. They didn’t even have a name to go with this mystery woman.

But Kandomere had a theory that the change in weather was connected to her. And him and Montehugh were now in the process of cross-referencing weather patterns with possible sightings.

“The storm did pick up over in this area, after that one lady called in,” Montehugh offers. “It did, but it also picked up over here at about the same time,” Kandomere countered pointing to the map. “Yeah and there’s no way she could’ve gotten there that fast,” Montehugh sighed, “I mean unless she used magic.”

Kandomere shrugged, “It’s possible.” This was getting nowhere.

Frustrated he took to pacing the room. The human agents ducked their heads attempting to busy themselves with their work, with Montehugh being the only exception, as their boss stalked around the room. He knew it was because they did not wish to incur his wrath.

Running his fingers through his hair he sighed, perhaps he had been wrong about this human’s connection to the storm.

He was seldom wrong. But there simply wasn’t enough information to formulate a solid theory. The trail was growing cold, he could feel it, and he hated it when a trail went cold. Very few people have ever managed to elude him.

Still, he needed something; anything that would help him find her, even just a name would be enough.

A phone rings interrupting his thoughts.

Montehugh sighs and picks up the phone,  “Hello?”

Kandomere looks over to where his partner is seated.

“I have information on the Bright you’re looking for,” he hears a woman’s voice say on the other end. Kandomere gestures for Montehugh to hand him the phone. Without saying another word to the woman, he stands and crosses the room, Kandomere meets him halfway and Montehugh passes the phone to the elf.

“Hello?” he says.

A pause. Then a soft, “Hey.”

“You said you have information on a Bright?” Kandomere continues.

“Yeah I do, you’re talking to her,” she says coyly.

His eyes widen and he quickly snaps at the other agents in the room signaling for them to start tracing the call. They hurriedly move to follow his order. Kandomere resumes his pacing; he has to keep her talking.

“Is that so? What’s your name?” he asks.

“What’s yours?” she counters.

Now staring out the rain battered window, he doesn’t miss her flirtatious tone.

“Kandomere. My name is Kandomere,” he offers unable to resist being a little flirtatious himself.

“Kandomere,” she tastes it. “That’s a nice name,” she whispers.

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smile, and he pivots to walk back and forth in front of the window.

“Now what’s your name?” he asks. She tells him. The elf points across the room and Montehugh listening in on the conversation is already jotting it down.

“Now, you wouldn’t mind telling me where you are?” he questions.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she responds.

He sighs, so now she’s going to be difficult. “I would love to know where you are?” he asks, pouring it on extra thick this time trying to get her to take the bait.

“Kandomere dear, you and I both know you’re tracing this call,” she says softly.

He straightens. “I need to know where you are, darling.”

“I’m sure you do,” she replies.

He’s done playing this game.

”Listen-“ he begins angrily, before a pained sound from the other end stops him. He listens intently to the sound of ragged breathing, “Hello? Are you still there?” he asks the anger in his voice now gone.

A shaky intake of breath, “Kandomere…could…could you do me a favor?” she asks, voice wavering. “And get here before I bleed out.”

Jaw clenched he looks to Montehugh, who gives a thumbs up. They got the location. Turning his attention back to her, “Hang on alright, I’ll get a medical team to you shortly,” he says softly. “We know where you are now.”

“H-Hurry,” she says and then the line goes dead.

Moving quickly, him and Montehugh waste no time gathering the necessary teams along with the medical team he promised and head to the source of the call. Upon arriving where the call originated, he orders the teams to spread out and search for her in the parking garage she’s holed up in. Eventually they do find her, propped up against a wall in one of the stairwells. He doesn’t actually see her until the medical team has placed her on a stretcher.

And he smells her before he sees her.

The scent of blood is overwhelming. Watching them approach, her face is pale and if the bloodstains on her clothing are any indication, she has a nasty gash on her right side. She’s still breathing but it’s labored and slow. As she’s carried past him, her eyelids flutter open and her eyes meet his.

And then the medics load her into the ambulance and shut the door. Turning on his heel, he walks back to the car with Montehugh in tow.

He’d wanted to find her, but not like this.

Opening the car door, he shakes his head. He can’t lose another one.

                                                    *******

“Alright Doc whattya got for us?” Montehugh asks upon entering the room. Dr. Kim looks up from her paperwork, “Ah Special Agent Kandomere, Agent Montehugh,” she greets them both with a nod. Kandomere nods back. The human woman is in her mid fifties and dressed in her post-op attire. Her black hair is streaked with silver and tied back in a short ponytail. She stands and hands the elf the paperwork. Flipping through it he gives it a cursory glance: broken ribs, mild burns on the knees and legs, bruising and abrasions on her left arm, and a large laceration on her right side likely from a…he raises his brows.

“A large unidentified creature?” Kandomere questions.

“Mmhm,” she nods.

“How big we talkin’ Doc?” Montehugh asks. “Like a manticore?”

“A gryphon?” Kandomere suggests.

She shakes her head, “Bigger.”

“What’s bigger than a gryphon?” Montehugh demanded, looking to Kandomere.

“Are you certain?” the elf inquired.

“Honestly it’s hard to say, whatever struck her came at her from a downward angle. So it was either flying or standing at a much taller height than her,” she explains.

“What makes you think it’s not a gryphon then?” Montehugh questioned.

“Gryphons usually prefer to pick up their prey and drop it from a great height. Not only are her legs not broken there’s no wounds on her shoulders or back indicative of a gryphon attempting to lift her off the ground,” Dr. Kim continues. “No, this is only a partial claw mark.”

“If it’s only a partial claw mark, then how did she survive?” Kandomere muses.

“That’s a question you need to ask her,” she replies.

“There is something else I wanted to bring to your attention,” she says pointing to the paperwork in his hands. “There’s bruises and scratch marks on her left arm,” she states.

“From the creature?” Kandomere proposed.

“No, a person,” she responds.

“Defensive wounds,” Montehugh guessed.

“Someone a lot stronger than her tried to drag her by her arm,” Dr. Kim responds. “And based on the bruising, the broken ribs, the burns, and the laceration all of these injuries happened concurrently the night before you brought her in,” she finishes.

“Fuck! What happened to her from a week and half ago at the convenience store to when we found her?” Montehugh implored, turning to the elf.

“Well, hopefully she’ll be able to tell us,” Kandomere says. “When she wakes up.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” he says. She nods.

The elf turns to leave and then stops. He flips through the paperwork again; there was the mention of burns on her legs if she had fallen during the struggle…

“Dr. Kim?” he asks.

“Yes,” she replies.

“Would a dragon be large enough?” he questions.

She thinks for a moment, “Why yes it would,” she responds.

“Thank you, that will be all,” he says and he turns and walks out of the room. Montehugh joins him and as they walk down the hallway, “You don’t think he could’ve done it? Do you?” he asks. Kandomere considers that for a moment, “It’s unlikely, I see no reason he would suddenly go rogue.”

The dragon in question is of course, The L.A. Dragon, affectionately dubbed that name and an assortment of other nicknames by the people of Los Angeles. He had been living in this region long before the city was ever built and was well over five hundred years old. There were even more than a few occasions where he had defended the city itself. Whether it was fighting sea monsters that had wandered in from the coast or chasing off smaller magical creatures attempting to nest in the city such as wyverns or chimeras. He had no interest in involving himself in the personal affairs of the people who lived in the city, of course. But L.A. was part of his territory and he would defend his territory.

“What about his mate?” Montehugh challenged.

His mate.

She had only lived here for the past fifty years or so after coming down from the north, but at this time of year… “No, she’s shown signs of nesting,” he states, shaking his head. “She wouldn’t leave the eggs.”

“Well, what if our Bright was somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be…” Montehugh offered. Kandomere knits his brows together, thinking of the possibility. The dragons would definitely attack her if she had entered their lair. “Perhaps…” he mused. But then again no one would have ever heard from her again. It’s not the sort of situation most people would survive Bright or not. “Perhaps not.”

The armed guards lining the wall outside the room where their Bright is being kept straighten at the sight of Kandomere’s and Montehugh’s approach. Without breaking stride, the elf gives them a cursory glance before entering the room. Despite the fact that there are multiple beds lining the wall next to the windows they’re all empty, save for one. Kandomere slows down as he approaches her. He can hear the beeping from the heart rate monitor and the sound of her quiet breathing. Kandomere is more than aware of how dangerous magic is and of how dangerous those are who wield it. He stops at the foot of the bed. But like this?

Like this she looks weak and helpless. And in a way she is.

She had called the MTF. Had asked him for help.

And he was doing everything in his power to make sure she would recover but…was it enough?

Montehugh sighed and shook his head. And then there was silence again.

Wait, silence?

The elf walks over to the darkened window to peer outside. Night had fallen but that wasn’t a problem for his keen eyesight. The sky was still cloudy but there was not a single drop of rain. Turning to look at his partner, “It’s stopped raining,” he notes.

Montehugh looks up to the window and then down at the woman in the bed.

“Shit! It’s ‘cause she’s out,” he exclaims.

“Yes,” Kandomere agrees nodding.

“Heh, you were right,” Montehugh says.

The elf moves to walk past her bed again but stops. Looking down at her, his eyes move to her hand. He places his left hand over her right one. Her skin feels cold and he’s not certain if that’s because it’s exposed or if it’s an indication of her condition. He remembers the first human Bright he had encountered, twenty years ago. He couldn’t save him when the Inferni…when Leilah…

He closes his eyes.

He had failed to do his job then, but he would not fail now. He opens his eyes and looks toward her face. Besides, he had met another human Bright recently and if he could survive all that he went through in a single night then surely she could.

If there was one trait about humans he could admire it was their tenacity.

They persevere. They keep fighting. No matter how hard it gets, or how strong their opponent is.

“Hey, boss?” Montehugh says.

“Hm?” Kandomere looks at him.

His partner is giving him a weird look and when the man’s eyes dart from him to her hand, he understands why.

Absentmindly, he had started stroking her hand with his thumb. He lets go and then tucks her hand under the blanket, mindful of the restraints, and walks back over to his partner.

“We should let her rest,” Kandomere remarks.

“Yeah,” Montehugh says side eyeing the elf.

And then Kandomere walks out of the room with Montehugh following slowly behind.

                                                       *******

Hearing a commotion down the hall, he realizes it’s coming from the medical bay. Quickly he makes his way towards where they’re keeping their newfound Bright. Upon entering he sees that there’s half a dozen armed guards sprawled out on the floor attempting to stand. And one of the medics is doing chest compressions on the Bright while two others scramble to move equipment from one of the other beds. The medics then roll a new defibrillator over to her and one of them removes the hospital gown. Using gel and placing the pads, “Clear,” one of them says and places the defibrillator paddles on the pads. Kandomere stares in horror as the first attempt doesn’t work nor the second attempt. But with the third the heart rate becomes steady.

Kandomere takes a breath and regains his composure. Turning his attention to the armed guards who’ve managed to stand at this point, “WHAT? HAPPENED?” he demands.

“Sir, she woke up,” one of the men says stepping forward. “And then she cast a spell.”

Montehugh having finally caught up enters the room and with a huff, “What happened?”

The elf folds his hands behind his back, “That’s exactly what I was about to find out.”

He notices out of the corner of his eye the medic who did the chest compressions approach him. Turning to face him he dips his head down and stares at him.

“Sir, the anesthesia wore off sooner than we expected. She shouldn’t have woke up for at least several more hours,” he explains.

The elf raises his head slightly indicating for the man to continue. “And sir, she was…she was fairly lucid. She was able to ask where she was and what she was doing here,” he said.

Kandomere’s eyes dart from the medic to the woman and then back. “Did she say anything else?” he asks.

The medic seems to think for a moment, “Yes, she overheard part of a conversation where you were mentioned by name. And in response she said and I quote, ‘Kandomere, that’s a nice name.’ ”

Kandomere and Montehugh exchange glances.

The medic shakes his head, “She was calm the entire time and then she tried to pick up her arm and saw the restraints. She had a panic attack, started hyperventilating, I almost had her calmed down and then they showed up,” he says pointing at the armed agents. “The moment she spotted them her eyes started glowing, so of course they start yelling and pointing their guns at her. Then she spoke something I didn’t understand and they all flew off the floor,” he says gesturing upwards.

“Could you repeat what word she said?” Kandomere asks.

The medic repeats it, he mispronounces it clearly, but that’s because it’s ancient Övüsi. The word meant, “to float.” A levitation spell.

“And then?” the elf asks. “What happened to send her into cardiac arrest?”

The man exhales, “A surge of energy from her fried all the equipment in her vicinity. And then she fell unconscious and went into cardiac arrest. That’s why we had to get equipment from the other side of the room.” The other medics nod in response.

Kandomere looks out the window, “Are you sure it wasn’t the storm somehow?” he asks.

“The what?” the medic asks following the elf’s gaze. Shaking his head in disbelief, “I- No, the energy came from her. I saw it.”

The elf then turns to the armed agents, “Are any of you injured?”

The agent who spoke earlier looks around to the others and after a few shakes of his fellows’ heads he replies, “No.”

“Then you are to return to your posts,” he says sternly, glaring at them.

“Yes, sir,” the agent replied. And with that the men filed out of the room.

With their patient in a stable condition the medics set to work moving aside the broken medical equipment and putting replacements from the other beds in their stead.

As Kandomere focuses his attention back to the woman he slowly approaches her side. Smelling burnt leather, his attention turns to the restraint hanging from the bed. Picking it up he examines what remains of it and he sees that a portion of it has been burnt through. Letting it hang limply, he then grasps her hand in his and lifts it up. Thumbing over her wrist he notes that her skin is unbroken. Gently placing her hand back down, his eyes trail over her unconscious form. The medics had recovered her with the blanket from the bed after the danger had passed. And closing his eyes he now simply listens to the sound of her gentle breathing and the rain falling against the window. The rain.

Opening his eyes, the elf fixes his gaze out the window. The sky was dark once more and rain fell heavily onto the ground below. The weather had been fluctuating these past couple of days. And it had been fluctuating with her health. Reaching down he brushes some of the hair out of her face; he blinks a few times and then he turns away.

“Notify me immediately when she awakens,” he says to the medical staff.

“Yes, sir,” they respond.

Nodding Kandomere walks past Montehugh, who’s been silently watching him this whole time. Moving to follow him, Montehugh waits until they’re out of the room and striding back down the hallway before speaking.

“You know, boss, I’ve noticed you act kinda strange around human Brights, even for you. Is there uh... a reason for that?” Montehugh asks.

The elf glances sidelong at his companion. “They’re rarer than elven Brights. And I only seem to meet them when they’re in mortal peril.” He can tell even from his periphery vision that his partner is less than satisfied with his answer, but Kandomere doesn’t care to elaborate any further at the moment. And ultimately Montehugh decides not to press him for more information. And the two of them continue down the hallway in silence.

[kinoalyse]

10 Photography Tips for Bloggers

LEARN PHOTOGRAPHY BASICS

There are hundreds of thousands of blogs out there that offer the basics of photography but the reason this stands out is because there is a surprising lack of quality photography across travel blogs. Therefore, one way to shine among the crowd is by showcasing your photography. First, explore the "Exposure Triangle," which is the relationship between aperture, shutter speed, and ISO. There's no shame in using automatic but sometimes a scene needs your assistance, such as a bright sky against architecture or a prop (wine bottles, ice cream, etc.).

Perfect Sky But... This isn't a terrible mid-range exposure but if you point your lens to the sky (or "expose for the sky"), the sky will be prefect but your architecture might be too dark for us to recover in post.

Perfect Interior, But... With an automatic camera, if you point your lens at the interior, this is what it will produce: perfect interior with a blown out sky that's impossible to recover. An automatic camera automatically exposes for where your lens is pointing. For the advanced, if you move your exposure square, it will expose where that square is when you lightly press the shutter. By learning how to use your camera more effectively, you can produce better work that stands out. If there's demand, I'm happy to write a quick and easily digested blog about photography basics. Leave a comment below or Tweet me if that would be helpful.

EXPLORE DIFFERENT GENRES

Second, what is the theme of your blog? If it's quite specific, such as food around the world, consider the different angles you can take to tell the story of that food. What of the chefs, the building, where the food comes from? To illustrate, a typical food blog features the food and wine placed on their table: food photography. However, if you want to tell a different story and, again, offer a fresh perspective, start exploring different genres of photography. In order to photograph the chefs, one would want to dabble in portraiture or street photography. Furthermore, to tell the story of a restaurant with a history, consider architectural photography.

Night Changing the time that you shoot can completely diversify your portfolio and is more visually interesting.

Portraiture Portraiture helps blogger to pull readers into their story. See Using Human Elements for more information.

Architecture Architecture connects readers to where you are and the people who inhabit the location. Always tell a story.

Take Notes

Travel takes a lot out of us. As you shoot, remember to take notes of your experiences, especially as you move: one city contains any number of photographic features in different sectors and you may not realize you've changed locations. Take notes of your surroundings to make sure you aren't misleading your readers and especially in case you decide to make money with stock photography in the future. https://vimeo.com/286921266

Tell a Story

Telling a story requires creativity and a willingness to explore different shooting methods. For example, street photographers use a method called "shooting from the hip." Instead of shooting from a standing position, the camera is placed near their hip to not only give their photos a different angle, but the camera is less obvious. In this photo, I had visited a city with a couple of famous landmarks and decided to skip them entirely in favor of exploration. I later realized that this town had been devastated by an earthquake years prior. At first glance, this is just an archway with a window reflecting the sunset. I wanted to invite the viewer to look closer for the story, the acorns littering the ground, unkept foliage, cracks in the stone. It becomes quite clear that this section of the city hasn't been maintained by citizens in years.

Leave White Space

White space is empty space within your photo, perfect for banner backgrounds because it lacks 'business' against your font. Play attention to white space while you shoot. skeleton plans, open schedules

plan flexibly

The rewards for patience is often worth the story itself. Be patient if your sunrise isn't incredible. Stay another half-hour in case the rain lets up. Flexibility in photography means using the unexpected to your advantage. Planning a vacation and having an open mind is totally different from patience in photography. When you plan your locations, remember that the weather, people, situations are not always as expected. Use these 'problems' to tell a story.

Use A Human element

Thank you to CrossroadAdventure for the question! A human element adds relatability to your scene. First, let's observe an ice cream cone in front of a famous landmark.  keep to your tone

Photographer: WeNeal's Photography and Retouching Alongside the right blog tone, this is a genuinely effective photo. Additionally, there is consideration for the framing and elements: they've gone with pastel nails and vibrant ice cream colors along with framing the fountain behind them. Coupled with the correct tone of a blog, this photo can be especially effective: it communicates a story in front of a famous destination and two people enjoying their cloudless afternoon. A human element also adds scale. Without the photoshopped man in the background would you look twice at this photo? A viewer has no concept of how large the driftwood and bushes are nor the rock in the background. Further, it was shot wide angle so scale is already an illusion. Placing a human element psychologically brings the viewer in. Simultaneously, a human element invites them to look again, even search for more easter eggs (hidden elements). This also means people stay on my website longer. My visitor retention skyrockets when I add something relatable. I have a lot to say about props: for more depth, Using Human Elements discusses more on the stereotypes of photography and how you should plan your own photos. Create Scale

Edit consistently

In addition to sticking to your tone, you should edit your photos within one blog post identically and within the blog itself, similarly. In the gallery below, two of the photos match styles. The other two were edited as I continued to learn and, as such, lack a cohesive style. Look specifically at the blues. The first and second photos were edited with the same saturation and hue of blue in Lightroom. The third has intense, saturated cyan and more rusty yellows. Finally, the last photo has darker blues and far less vibrant than the others. Much like the tone of your text, don't stray from a specific style in a single post.

get creative with props and people

perspective Change the angle. Crouch, look up/down, creative placement that isn't from a standing position

light Look for interesting light such as bokeh, light filtering through the trees, and soft reflections off glass.

composition Find interesting foreground and background placement where your subjects can interact.

BEST CAMERAS FOR BLOGGERS

Until I am blue in the face: the camera does not contribute to the artistry of photography until the mind behind it understands how to use their camera as an intended tool. However, some cameras do make layman lives easier.  Here is what I recommend for different types of bloggers - thank you to Dancing Pandas for the question! Cheap powerhouse: Canon G7 X Mark II

This is my vlogging camera, nearly four years old and is still kicking after moving around the US and overseas multiple times. Not only is the camera itself small and lightweight, the batteries and chargers are as well. It takes gorgeous photos, has stabilization for video, and a wide range of automatic features, such as timelapses and night photography. For the layman and especially for the price, this camera is a dream. Compact DSLR: CANON REBEL T6

My first DSLR camera was the Canon Rebel T2i, my first truly daunting purchase. The T6 is a better camera and less expensive. It takes quality photos and has features like wifi connectivity, creative tools like HDR, and great autofocus. It has similar power to more expensive cameras without the weight and complexity, although the crop censor is something to consider. The Rebel line continues to impress. ACtion Camera: GoPro Hero 7 BLack

The GoPro is a huge contender. For action without quality sacrifice, 4k video, voice commands, automatic HDR photography, timelapse and hyperlapse photography, wifi-enabled... I envy you if you've got this mounted. I can't wait to see what they do next: GoPro created one smart camera for any situation I could dream of finding myself in. The best part: it's relatively cheap compared to any other cameras on this list. Best mirrorless: Sony A7 II

Although there is a newer Mark III model out, I think it has an overwhelming amount of bells and whistles. This version remains one of the best mirrorless, lightweight cameras on the market. It is able to automatically shoot simple, automatic photography but the moment you decide to really get into shooting, it also comes ready with professional features. It's the middle ground between professional and hobbyist. Phone photography: Samsung Galaxy S10+

At the end of the day, the best camera is the one you have with you. Camera photography is no joke. Samsung's Galaxy S10+ features a wide angle lens (equivalent to 12mm) and crazy manual control you usually only get from a paid app otherwise. This also means control over your focus. Want dreamy backgrounds? You got it. Insane zoom? Comes standard. It also takes full 1080 60FPS video for that extra bang for your buck. BEST DRONE: DJI Mavic Air

If you don't have a drone can you even come to the photographers' table these days? DJI has made droning more accessible than ever through their Spark and Mavic Air. I recommend the Air specifically for professional bloggers as it is lightweight and compact, contains a wealth of features (timelapse, tracking, full HDR, even filters!), and comes with everything you need to get started. Quality drone photography and video? Look no further. DJI Mavic Air. If you want more of me or my work: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook | Art Industry Read the full article

[dreamwritesimagines]

Bad Habit 8 - Riverside [Billy Russo x Reader]

A.N.: Your feedback means so much to me, my lovelies! <3 Thank you, and merry Christmas! <3 

Characters: Billy Russo x Reader, Karen Page, Frank Castle, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson

Summary: Pinky promises are meant to be kept.

Click here for: Bad Habit 1, Bad Habit 2, Bad Habit 3  Bad Habit 4 Bad Habit 5 Bad Habit 6 Bad Habit 7

Click here to see the playlist for the first 4 parts!

Warning: Explicit language, cussing, mentions of sex, kissing.

Word Count: 4286

Please tell me what you think

Gif’s not mine!

You’d had your fair share of tense moments in your life. Incidents involving your brother, incidents involving confrontation, and everything between them, they all had made you feel like you were about to pass out from nervousness, but waiting for Matt in a questioning room took the cake.

And when he actually walked in, your head spun from the sudden relief.

“Matt!”

Matt shot the police a curt smile, “May I have a word with my client, officer?”

The police eyed you up and down and pushed his chair back, then left the room while you ran your fingers through your hair, bouncing your leg. Matt heaved a sigh as he heard the door close.

“Please tell me you didn’t say anything.”

You shook your head, then scowled at yourself in your head.

“No.”

“Did you sign anything?”

“I know what not to do.” You muttered, “No. I just waited for you.”

“Thank God…” Matt muttered and crossed his arms, “Karen and Foggy are outside by the way. He’s speaking to the cops and she says she will kill you with your own gun as soon as you walk outside.”

“Because I haven’t suffered enough today?”

“Well, it is still afternoon,” he stated and ran a hand over his face, “We leave you alone for like 5 minutes and you start shooting guns? Seriously?”

“I didn’t shoot anything!” You lowered your voice, “Besides, what the fuck happened to lawyer-client professionalism?”

“You don’t pay me.”

“I got you a round of shots last night, you ungrateful asshole.”

“Also, your fleeing the scene doesn’t exactly help.”

“I didn’t flee!”

“Usually, after an accident you wait for the police.”

“Oh really, Matty? You wait for the police?” You mimicked his deep voice, “It’s Hell’s Kitchen, who the fuck cares about that shit anymore?! New York has been invaded by the fucking aliens twice by now, Devil of Hell’s Kitchen runs around and saves people at night, there is a superhero in every corner and people flip over a gun shot? Jesus, priorities!” You leaned back, sulking, “Wasn’t even my gun.”

Matt closed his eyes, “I know you think it makes it better, but it actually makes it worse,” he said “Are you telling me you fired a gun you weren’t even allowed to have with you in the first place?”

“I didn’t fire shit!” You lowered your voice and Matt frowned,

“I don’t get it.”

“I-“ You cleared your throat, “I-um… someone was trying to hurt me last night.”

“Who?”

You bit inside your cheek, scratching at the table and Matt made a face as if he could hear it.

“Y/N,” he insisted, “Who?”

“My brother.”

Matt paused “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“That would be because I wish I didn’t have a brother.” You mumbled and he drummed his fingertips on the table,

“Care to elaborate?”

You covered your face with your hands, then rubbed at your eyes, “Well …” You looked at him, “Okay, so, long story short. I have a brother, who’s a very, very dangerous psycho. He set up this mechanism in my apartment which looked like a booby trap and it’d basically… It’d shoot me as soon as I opened my door. But um… thankfully Billy was there, so the bullet didn’t hit me.” You pulled at your sleeves, “I can’t go to prison, Matt, I haven’t even watched Orange Is The New Black yet!”

That seemed to make him smile but only for a moment, “So no one was hurt?”

“No, it hit the wall.” You flinched in your chair as the door opened but Foggy walked inside.

“Any problems?”

Matt shook his head, “What are they saying?”

“I have some good news and some bad news.” Foggy said, “Good news is that, they’re gonna let you go. You’re welcome.”

You let out a breath and leaned your head to the table, “Can anyone else hear the Hallelujah Chorus, or is it just me?”

“Bad news…” Foggy trailed off, making you raise your head, “Now you’re also in debt to the police department.”

“Oh Jesus…”

“And um… You might want to pick up some extra shift at the café.” He put the document in front of you and you skimmed the lines, your eyes widening as you saw the number.

“Oh fuck!”

“That’s what irresponsibility gets you.”

Matt shook his head again, “Wasn’t her fault.” He muttered as you picked up the pen and signed the paper.

“Now, can we leave?”

After leaving the police station you decided you at least owed your friends a cup of coffee, so you, Foggy, Matt and Karen -who was still stubbornly glaring at you- made your way into the café. Vicky ran to you and hugged you tight.

“Vicky- Vicky my stitches-“ You coughed and she pulled back, her eyes filled with tears.

“I thought you’d get a life sentence!”

Foggy turned to stare at her, then elbowed Matt who looked like he was ready to burst into a laughter. Karen crossed her arms, biting inside her cheek.

“Vicky, you do know I didn’t kill anyone?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her.” Liz said after squeezing your arm in an assuring manner, “You okay?”

You nodded, “Is the boss here?”

“Nope. Sit down, I’ll bring you all coffee.”

Matt smiled at her politely and he and Foggy sat down, while Karen looked at you silently, her brows raised.

“Okay, let’s just get coffee and then you can fuck me up.” You said as you both sat down. Karen clicked her tongue.

“So let me get this straight.” She started, “You got attacked, -again, if I may add-, and after you got attacked, you decided your house wasn’t safe anymore-“

“It’ll be safe once I get the door fixed,” You said and Foggy got his phone out of his pocket and started typing something.

“On it. I know a guy who owes me a favor.”

“And then,” Karen continued as if no one had cut her off, “Then instead of calling me- your best friend- you decided to go and crash at a guy’s place whom you’ve known for a little over a week?”

“Um…” You swallowed and turned to Matt, “A little help here?”

“You’re on your own.”

“Shit- Okay, Karen-“ You took a deep breath, “I know how that sounds like and in my defense...” You cleared your throat, “He seduced me with his hair and his facial hair.”

Karen rolled her eyes, “You know what, I’m gonna shoot you and this time you could just crawl your way to Billy’s apartment, since he’s the guy-“

“Oh my God, I was almost shot, okay, show some compassion woman!”

“And I had to learn about you getting arrested from your friend, not from you-“

“What the fuck was I supposed to do, Karen? Was I supposed to text “Tfw police comes to pick you up, hashtag yolo?”

Karen raised her brows, “Yeah? What did you text Billy when we left the police station?”

You sulked, “Straight outta prison, hashtag badass.” You muttered and Matt snorted,

“One would think you weren’t shaking in fear when I walked inside.”

“Do you have any idea about how I felt?!” Karen snapped as Foggy slid down in his chair, his shoulders silently shaking with laughter. “You don’t go to a stranger’s house after you almost get shot, you come to your best friend-“

“My best friend would drag me to a hospital-“

“Fuck yeah I would drag you to a hospital, because that’s where people go when they get hurt!” She lowered her voice, “They don’t go to a guy’s house to play doctor.”

“She has a point.”

“Whose side are you on?!”

“Hers.” Both Matt and Foggy pointed at Karen, who looked smug and leaned back, you on the other hand crossed your arms.

“Fine, Karen, I’ll crawl and bleed on your couch the next time I get shot, I promise.” You muttered and turned to Matt and Foggy, “Thanks for saving my ass today, traitors.”

Matt waved a hand dismissively “I’m pretty sure you can pay us with shots.”

You snorted, “I’ll be lucky to have money to get food.” You grumbled and Karen’s frown deepened.

“What?”

“I’m supposed to pay this huge amount of money, because of the whole getting arrested thing also, I should just find a dead animal and leave it at my neighbor’s doorstep for intimidation like we do in Chicago, snitches get stitches-“

“I don’t really think that’s a thing, what part of Chicago did you use to live in?”

“Dangerous part of Chicago.” You answered Foggy and he shrugged,

“Why don’t you ask fancy boy?”

You snorted, “I’d rather shoot myself. Do you guys know any loan sharks?”

“Not funny.” Karen said as Vicky walked to your table with coffee cups.

“There you go.”

“Thank you.” Matt said politely and you took your cup, then took a sip.

“You’re feeling alright?”

“Prison changes a person, Vicky.”

“You stayed in custody for two hours.” Foggy commented and as if on cue, your phone started ringing. You lowered your glances to see Billy’s name flashing across your screen and you took a deep breath, then took the phone to your ear.

“You’re speaking to Al Capone?”

Karen rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly and Billy heaved a sigh.

“I can’t tell if you’re serious or not on the phone, what’s going on?”

“Got arrested.” You sipped your coffee and Billy paused,

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you want me to make you an offer you can’t refuse?”

“I’m gonna be so pissed if I find a horse head in my apartment.” He said, “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“I left you alone for about an hour,” Billy stated incredulously. “How did you get arrested in an hour? For what?!”

“Discharge of arms last night.”

He groaned, “Fuck…”

You bit on your lip, trying to keep your mind off the gutter “Yeah so, I’m like extra dangerous now.”

“You’re extra ridiculous, that’s what you are.”

“Boy you’re really pushing your luck with the horse head-“

“Where are you? I’m sending a lawyer-“

“No need, we handled it.”

“We handled it?”

“Yeah, Matt and Foggy saved my ass.”

There was a pause and he clicked his tongue, “Did they?”

You nodded, “Anyway, I was gonna ask you out tonight. My treat, even if I can’t actually afford it. Consider it my thanks for last night.”

Foggy’s head shot up and he made a face, “Oh wow.”

You flipped him, “So?”

“Sure,” Billy’s voice was distant for some reason, “I could be a bit late though, is that okay?”

“Oh yeah, no problem, I can start before you.”

“Great. Will Matt be accompanying you until I get there?”

You pulled your brows together, “Huh?”

“Never mind.”  He said, “Listen, gotta catch a meeting, send me the address.” With that, he hung up and you stared at the phone, frowning.

“The hell just happened?”

You drummed your fingernails on the counter of the bar, playing with your phone. You were already on your third drink and somehow, it didn’t help the way you felt. You had no idea why Billy had reacted that way, but you could already tell that you didn’t like it.

As soon as you finished your drink and put the glass on table, somebody took the seat beside you.

“Hi.”

Great. Now you had another problem.

“Hello.” You smiled politely before turning back to your phone but the guy didn’t seem to take the hint.

“What’re you drinking?”

“Nothing special.” You said curtly and he smiled slightly.

“I’m Lucas, and you are?”

“Not interested.”  

“You’re this rude to everyone who’s nice to you? Wouldn’t kill you to smile.”

That got you to raise your head from the phone and you glared at him, “Buddy, I don’t know you, okay? I’m waiting for someone, so please…” You waved a hand dismissively and he shrugged.

“Just trying to make conversation.”

“I’d try my luck somewhere else.”

“Maybe I’m nice once you get to know me.”

“Jesus Christ-“ You started but before you could say anything else, your phone started ringing. It was a number you didn’t know so you frowned slightly, automatically distracted from the guy, and you held the phone in your hand for a couple of seconds before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hi sis.”

And just like that, all the buzz in your head was gone. Your breathing got way faster as you felt the familiar panic filling your system and you stood up from the seat, suddenly it had become way too hard to breathe in the bar. You pushed open the door and walked outside, holding the phone tightly in your hand.

“You still there?” The familiar drawl made you grit your teeth and you kept walking without knowing where you’d end up, in hopes to find somewhere calmer and more silent.

“Yeah. I’m here, asshole.”

“Good. Missed me?”

You stayed silent and leaned your head back to the brick wall of the alley, taking a deep breath.

He wasn’t here. And you were completely safe.

“The fuck you want?”

“That’s no way to talk to your brother.”

“You know what, I’m getting really tired of this shit where everyone tells me how to talk to someone. The fuck do you want?”

“I waited for you.” His voice was enough to send a chill down your spine, “In the hospital. You didn’t show up.”

“Yeah, sorry your plan for shooting me didn’t work exactly the way you thought it would.”

“Courtesy of your boyfriend I’m sure.”

Your grip around the phone tightened and he chuckled.

“What? Didn’t think I’d find out? I’m offended, my baby sis not telling me shit about her man. I should get to know him to see if he’s a good fit-“

“You don’t get close to him, dickhead,” You tried to keep your voice stable even if your eyes were already filled with tears, “You hear? If you do, I swear to God-“

“What?” his voice was taunting, “You’ll do what, lil sis?”

You only paused for a second,

“I will end you.”

“See, that might not work the way you want.”

You gulped and tried to see through the haze of anger and panic, and bit inside your cheek, ignoring the burning in your eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice came out as a whisper and you heard his chuckle before he took a deep breath.

“Told you,” he said, “Family over everything, sis.”

With that, he hung up and you looked at the screen, trying to pull yourself together and dug your fingernails into your palms, closing your eyes for a second.

No. It wasn’t the time for this.

You were gonna go inside, and have some fun with Billy and everything would be fine-

“Hey.”

Or not.

You threw your head back, adrenaline still pulsing through your veins and turned around to look at Lucas, who had his hands in his pockets, watching you.

“You seem stressed.”

“Jesus, what is this, a joke?” You snapped, “Dude, get the fucking clue, not interested.” You took a step to walk past him but before you could, he grabbed your arm, smiling at you.

You should’ve been scared. You knew you were supposed to be scared, but somehow, as the anger filled your veins, you were way too furious to feel any fear.

“Let go of my arm before you lose that hand.”

“Or what?”

Before you could open your mouth, your fist had already flown forward and as soon as he stumbled back, someone yanked him from behind and turned him around before punching him hard.

“Can’t say she didn’t warn you.” He said calmly as Lucas tried to find his balance, and lunged himself at Billy, but even you could tell it was a lost fight even before it began. Billy grabbed his wrist and twisted his hand before the sickening crack reached your ears and Lucas let out a scream of pain, which made you smile only for a second before you snapped out of it, shocked at yourself.

You couldn’t. You weren’t supposed to find this satisfactory in any way.

“Billy- stop, okay, enough-”

He didn’t seem to hear you, instead he threw another punch at Lucas and you heard another crack, then saw the blood coming out of Lucas’s nose before he gripped it tight.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry-“

“Doesn’t work like that, asshole.” He threw him towards the brick wall and Lucas hit the wall like a rag doll before he stumbled on his steps, still trying to find his balance before you got between him and Billy and Lucas used that opportunity to run away from him, getting out of the alley as fast as he could.

“Get out of the way.”

“No!” You snapped at him, “You need to stop- that’s- that’s enough.”

He turned to look at you, and you could see the wild fire burning in his dark eyes as he panted.

“That’s enough?” He repeated, his voice barely holding back his anger, “Do you have any idea what that fucker-“

“I know, okay? It’s not the first time, won’t be the last, but listen to me- Billy!” You raised your voice as he took a step and you pressed your hand to his chest, feeling his fast heart beat against your palm, “I’m fine.”

“Y/N-“

“Just some creepy guy, being creepy. Okay? I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

“Like fuck nothing happened, I’m gonna-“

“You’re gonna do nothing.”

“I’m gonna kill him-” he tried to walk past you but you pushed him back.

“I don’t have any idea about how conjugal visits work in New York, so you’re gonna chill the fuck down!”

But your snapping at him seemed to have no power on him, because he turned his back to pace in the alley, running a hand through his slicked back hair, breathing hard as if he didn’t know how to come back down from the high the anger gave him. It was as if it was all out of his control and you were witnessing a side of him neither you, nor he had any idea about how to keep in check.

And it was all too much. It was as if your brain had suddenly gone numb, all the panic, all the fear, everything was swallowed by this strange feeling that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I-I don’t want you to leave, okay?” Your voice dropped a bit “Screw the guy, and stay, for me.”

Billy turned to look at you as you walked to him, and cupped his cheek.

“Please?” Your hand balled up into a fist as you held his shirt and stood on your tiptoes, planting a soft kiss to his lips, then wrapped your arms around his neck, scratching the back of his neck slowly. You let out a soft whine when he pressed you against the wall and pulled you into a deep kiss, your hands slipping to his chest.

“Y/N-“ He let out a breath when he pulled back, sounding physically hurt from being unable to decide what to do, and when you looked up at him, you were sure that your pupils were as wide as his, as if you both were high on something.

He held you tight on the back of your neck, the darkness in his eyes focused on you.

“You want me to stay?” he asked hoarsely, and you gulped, then nodded fervently as soon as it dawned on you.

Desire.

That was what you felt. That was what suffocated every other feeling in your mind. You couldn’t even think about anything else anymore, not the threats coming closer, not the asshole from the bar, nothing.  All you could feel was that you needed him, with you. In any way possible.

In a very specific way if possible, thank you very much.

“And then what?”

Your eyes snapped up to his, to see the gleam in them “W-What?”

“I can stay here…” He taunted, “But what do you want me to do?”

You were at lost for words, especially when he planted a kiss to your neck, holding you still. You arched your back, pressing your body against his without knowing what the hell you were doing.

“Billy-“

“What do you want us to do, Y/N?” Billy insisted and you tried to speak through the haze in your brain.

“An-anything?” You offered shakily, making him chuckle.

“Anything?” he repeated and you nodded, trying to silence the voice in your mind saying; Not anything, I don’t want to do ‘anything’ in a dark alley. Your hormones turned out to be stronger than your ration so you just waited until Billy spoke again

“So if I told you…” he dragged his fingertips on your arm “That I want to have you right here, right now…?”

“Billy-“ That didn’t come out as a sob, nope, not at all. His hands went under your shirt to feel your skin against his fingertips, but as soon as his grip tightened around your waist, pain shot through your wound and you held your breath, a yelp of pain escaping from your lips. That seemed to have the same effect on him as fire, because he pulled back as if you burned him.

“You okay? Did I hurt you?”

You tried to catch your breath and shook your head,

“No, not you- the stitches hurt.”

He nodded curtly and licked his lips, as if trying to control himself.

“I-um…” For the first time since you’ve met him, he stammered, “Do you want to go inside?”

That made you snap out of the bliss and you thought for a second, remembering why you were outside. Your hand involuntarily went to your pocket to check your phone as the panic dawned on you once again, out of nowhere and you shook your head.

“I need some fresh air.” You said, “Walk with me?”

Your walk to riverside was silent. Billy seemed to understand when you wanted to talk and when you didn’t, because he didn’t even open his mouth to attempt to start a conversation. When you reached the bench by the riverside, you uncapped your beer that you both had got on the way, and took a sip as you sat down. Billy sat down next to you and you inhaled the cold breeze, leaning forward, resting your elbows on your knees.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.”

You took another sip from your beer, and gulped, biting inside your cheek. You could feel the burning behind your eyes but you blinked fast, desperate to keep the tears at bay, at least until you were done saying what you needed to say.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” You started, “I told you I left Chicago because me and my brother had a fight. It’s actually… It’s a lot complicated than that.”

He nodded silently, waiting for you to keep going.

“My brother, he’s-“ You cleared your throat, “I don’t need to tell you he’s dangerous. I think you’ve seen that. What you haven’t seen is…that little booby trap? That’s just the beginning of what he could do.”

“To you?”

“To anyone.” You stated and licked your lips, “But yeah. Especially to me.”

“Why?”

A bitter chuckle escaped from your lips as the cold breeze whipped your hair, and you swirled the liquid in the bottle, deep in thought.

“I’ve done something bad,” You said slowly, “At least… at least he thinks it’s bad. And then all hell broke loose.” You kept your eyes on the calm, still water. “The reason why I left Chicago wasn’t our argument. It was because of his revenge. I had this… I had this boyfriend.” You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, “Around the time I did what I did. My brother hurt him, very badly. In front of me.”

Billy frowned, “What did you do?”

You bit on your lip hard, ignoring his question,

“So um… I wanted to say-“ You tried to keep your voice from cracking, “This is, uh- This is my heads up. I’m in some really fucked up shit, so if you wanted-“ You forced yourself to shrug, “If it’s too much for you, you could leave. No hard feelings, I promise.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, and shook his head,

“I’m not leaving.”

“Are you listening to me? I’m dangerous-“

“No, I am listening to you. I just find it ironic that you beat me to it.”

You blinked dumbly “What?”

“This whole speech.” He waved a hand, “Never occurred to you, not even once, did it? That I might be bad for you?”

“I’m not talking about heartbreak.”

“Neither am I,” his voice was way too calm and you turned to look at him, “You really think you’re the only one with enemies here?”

That caused you to fall silent, and you licked your lips, looking him deep in the eye.

“You have enemies?”

He nodded and sipped his own beer,

“Yeah. I’ve got quite a lot, to be honest. And I’m planning to make more.”

“You’re planning to make more enemies.” You repeated, confused, “Why?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the river,

“So, the same thing goes for you,” he stated, “You could leave. No hard feelings.”

For some reason, you could feel the goose bumps rising on your arm and a cold feeling running down your spine, but you ignored it and held out your pinky.

“I won’t if you won’t.”

That seemed to make him smile slightly and he eyed you up and down before entwining his finger with yours.

“Deal.”

Part 9 is up! 

[theolddarkmachine]

Sheith + witches

+

We Are the Weirdos, Mister

A thrum of something a lot like adrenaline cascaded through his veins, screaming at him to turn back now, but all he could think about was how fluidly Keith’s hand had moved as it had arced through the air, and the crystal gem cut of his face.

Really, if Shiro was smart, he would run now.

He would get out before something bad could happen. Something that would get him caught. Something like—

The sharp staccato sound of his text tone shattered the almost unnatural quiet around him and the shack, shaking him loose of whatever spell it had cast on him as his eyes widened. With a small, strangled sound, Shiro thrust his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled the offending piece of technology from where it sat nestled against his hip.

Its light nearly blinded him as he looked down at the screen to see a single message from one ‘Lancey Lance’ stretched across it.

hey dude wut r u up to

Something told him his friend wouldn’t really like the answer to that question. Shaking his head slowly as he flicked his phone to silent, Shiro pushed it deep into his pocket and looked up only to choke on the sudden crash of his heart against his tonsils.

Keith was no longer in the shack.

AO3

A/N: @ movie studios, hire me to write your thinly plotted witch movie that’s just an excuse to make two guys kiss. kudos to you if you know where the title is from

***********************

Black, more black, and a hint of red leather.

Those were the three things Shiro first noticed about the lithe student on the other side of the cafeteria as he walked towards the courtyard with his tray clutched in his hands. Black draping cardigan over a black tank, paired with torn black jeans and red leather Docs. It was a look very unfitting for the small desert town.

Hell, it didn’t fit in the city that he’d just moved in from.

In fact, it looked like something picked for an alternative fashion line during fashion week.

And with a face like that, Shiro wouldn’t have been shocked if he had been meant for a runway too.

“Who is that?” He breathed as his fingers twitched around the soggy burger the school system had deemed safe for the youths of the future to consume. Tracking each step as the other high schooler pushed the door open with his hip and stepped outside, he barely noticed the annoyed sound his companion made in the back of his throat.

“That?” Lance— or as he had gracefully called himself The Best Welcoming Committee This Side of Paradise— said with something that sounded a lot like vehemency. He turned to Shiro with his own hamburger poised halfway to his mouth, bite aborted in favor of answering.

“The mullet wearing wannabe bad boy?” He quirked a brow over a dark blue eye as he carefully put the wilting patty down on his tray. “That who?”

It wasn’t a description he would have used. He was thinking more along the lines of striking force, but that might have been too much to admit on his first day.

Nodding instead, Shiro continued to watch as the mysterious who in question made his way to an empty seat in the courtyard. His onyx hair caught the light of the sun as he looked around as if checking the area before he planted himself at the table directly across from where they sat.

“That,” he emphasized as he wrinkled his nose, “is Keith. And we don’t talk to that.”

The we he stressed with extra weight and a shifting hand between the both of them.

“Why?” Shiro asked, still unable to pull his silvered gaze away as Keith looked around once more before he slowly waved a hand over the top of his tray. Looking now, he could see the rings that circled his fingers and caught the light, blinding him momentarily with a quick flash.

Beside him, Lance shook his head.

“Because that,” he said, turning the word into something made entirely of hard edges and points, “is trouble.”

Then, as if he could hear them, Keith looked up.

Catching Shiro’s stare through the glass that separated them, he held it with an intensity that made his bones soften before he cocked his head in silent question. An electric sting ran across his chest, searing his skin and turning his cheeks bright with heat as he found himself unable to look away.

Trouble, his mind screamed.

Slow like spilling honey and just as sweet, a smile worked itself across Keith’s mouth as he tilted his chin upwards quickly in all knowing acknowledgement.

Yeah, Shiro thought as he finally averted his eyes, swallowing a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding.

He could see that.

***

He lives in some little shack in the desert, if you can believe that, Lance had said shortly after Shiro had finally gotten his heart rate under control again.

Seriously, Shiro, buddy. He keeps to himself, so don’t even try. Trust me.

He’s a prick.

Everything Lance had said about the stranger was a riptide in his mind, grabbing all Shiro’s other thoughts and drowning them so that all that was left in their place was that smile and the self assured nod.

Something about the way Lance had described Keith hadn’t quite lined up with what Shiro had seen that first day, or any of the following days for the rest of the week. Every description he gave was mired in insult that, as far as he could tell, was undeserving and altogether false.

The only thing that seemed to be accurate was the title of trouble, but he hadn’t quite yet figured out if that was because of how deadly the sharp lines of his face were, or because of the way Shiro’s heart would forget how to beat whenever their eyes would meet.

An annoying little voice at the back of him mind reminded him of the likelihood of both.

Sighing loudly, Shiro thrust his hands further into the pockets of his jacket as he hunched his shoulders up towards his ears in a vain attempt to protect them from the cold night air.

He hadn’t been planning on looking for the shack, but curiosity for things unknown had always been his downfall.

After all, that very curiosity had been why he’d moved to the middle of the desert in the first place.

Shiro was in love with space, and all the things that were still left to be discovered of its unending stretch of dark sky and blinding stars, and Garrison High was the highest ranking STEM school in the nation. Almost all students that attended the school in some capacity ended up at Garrison University, which boasted the highest number of graduates accepted into NASA.

His curiosity was why he jumped at the chance to attend the Garrison for his senior year.

And now that curiosity was why he was lost in the middle of the night looking for Keith’s shack.

You can’t miss it. It’s right at the base of the plateau and the literal only thing out there, man.

Lance’s voice taunted him with the simple instructions that wrapped themselves around his brain stem as he stepped over the sun baked earth and dried vegetation.

“Can’t miss it, my ass,” he drawled under his breath as he continued forward, his path lit by nothing else but the moon above. Bathing the otherwise colorful desert with its cool light, the scene before him was turned monochromatic and otherworldly. The cold bite that edged everything before him in silver sent a hush of goosebumps running along his skin.

Normally, he would find the moonlight beautiful, but tonight it glowed with something sinister. Something that felt all to ready to eat him alive.

Of course, maybe that was just him being on edge.

Being lost in the desert could do that to a person after all.

“Dammit!” He hissed in frustration as he stopped, throwing his head back to look upwards towards the night sky, pinpointing Pegasus as he breathed. The stars at least, were there to offer him some kind of solace.

Dragging his gaze between the stars that made up the constellation, he repeated the pattern until he felt his breathing calm and his heartbeat slow.

He really should give up.

It had been an embarrassing amount of time since he’d left his hover bike on the main road and defeat was tainting his mood with a roiling darkness much like the shadows stretched across the desert before him.

Even if he found the shack at this point, what would he even do? Keith would inevitably want to know what he was doing there, and something told him that I was drawn to you was only acceptable in young adult supernatural romances.

Shiro wasn’t even entirely sure what caused the pull festering deep within his gut that fought to drag him to Keith like he was the sun and he as nothing more than a planet caught in his orbit. Worst still that it was an unavoidable thing. He had no more say in the matter than anything else that was inevitable.

He was caught in Keith’s orbit, and after a week of watching him at school, he’d learned that any and all attempts to exit the continuous spin was met with nothing but failure.

Worst still, was the fact that he didn’t even want to be free of it, because while he pushed against the distinct pull, he also knew that he still needed to know more.

More, more, more.

Of course, he probably could have stood to wait until the following Monday during actual school.

But hey, he never said he was perfect.

Setting his jaw with new resolve, Shiro gave Pegasus one last pass before he turned his gaze back towards the ground just as a breeze shuffled the brush around his feet and set his hair dancing across his vision.

There, just in the distance, enveloped in a soft golden glow emanating from within, was the shack.

How? He thought as he stared openly at the old wood of the exterior, mouth slightly agape at the obvious nature of the dilapidated structure straight ahead from where he stood. A ripple of unease flashed down his spine as he blinked against the vision of the shack.

It hadn’t been there moments ago, that he knew for a fact.

Even with the cover of night, the moon had lit the barren landscape enough that even if the light had previously been off, he would have been able to make out its silhouette at the base of the plateau.

Just where Lance had said it would be.

Stumbling across the expanse that stood between him and the small home, he picked through a particularly large bush, cringing at the loud snaps of brittle twigs that punctuated the otherwise silent night but still unable to stop.

There it was again, that unavoidable pull as if his limbs were tied to strings and he wasn’t the one in control of them. Biting at the inside of his cheek, he moved until he stood just at the foot of the barely there patio connected to the front of the shack.

Why do you even care so much? That damned small voice asked, sounding more and more like Lance with each question of his intentions.

The easiest answer would be that he just wanted to form his own opinions on Keith. He’d never been one for rumors or obvious biases, having found himself on the receiving end the high school microscope before. It was easy when you were the new kid with a flashy metal arm to end up the focus point of bathroom gossip, and he hated it. He was more than his accident and more than his cybernetic arm in the same way he was certain Keith was more than a troublesome teen with “greasy” hair.

Shiro had seen his hair, and it was far from greasy.

It looked feather soft and exactly like the kind of hair he would love to run his fingers through.

Or, something like that.

Which, led him to the real, more complicated answer. An answer that was nestled deep within his chest with a beat of its own. An answer that seemed to flair up with an unknown heat whenever he saw Keith sit in the same spot each day during lunch, alone and with that secret smile he flashed his way whenever he caught him staring.

For the sake of his own sanity though, he’d stick with the easy one.

Dragging a steadying breath through his front teeth, Shiro took the two small steps in one, careful to distribute his weight across the balls of his feet as he slowly eased himself across the rickety patio and settled in a crouch at the windowsill.

Peeking over the top of the cracking wood, his gaze fell on the interior of the shack. Spanning the space of a single room, it was filled by a sparse table and even sparser bed tucked in the corner, and standing between the two, was Keith.

Dressed in his usual black, the darkness was offset by the bright red leather strap that hung loosely from within the collar of his worn v-neck. Head turned down to the table and something he couldn’t quite see from where he was perched, Keith dragged his bottom lip between his teeth as he quickly raised a hand. Silver caught the light of the fire illuminating the space as he drove a dagger down with a loud thudding noise.

Shit, Shiro thought as he watched Keith shake the hair out of his eyes as his arm moved, pushing and pulling the blade through whatever was on the table.

A thrum of something a lot like adrenaline cascaded through his veins, screaming at him to turn back now, but all he could think about was how fluidly Keith’s hand had moved as it had arced through the air, and the crystal gem cut of his face.

Really, if Shiro was smart, he would run now.

He would get out before something bad could happen. Something that would get him caught. Something like—

The sharp staccato sound of his text tone shattered the almost unnatural quiet around him and the shack, shaking him loose of whatever spell it had cast on him as his eyes widened. With a small, strangled sound, Shiro thrust his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled the offending piece of technology from where it sat nestled against his hip.

Its light nearly blinded him as he looked down at the screen to see a single message from one ‘Lancey Lance’ stretched across it.

hey dude wut r u up to

Something told him his friend wouldn’t really like the answer to that question. Shaking his head slowly as he flicked his phone to silent, Shiro pushed it deep into his pocket and looked up only to choke on the sudden crash of his heart against his tonsils.

Keith was no longer in the shack.

“Didn’t anyone teach you that it isn’t polite to show up unannounced?” A voice like thick smoke growled at his ear as he felt the soft bite of metal at his throat. It was somehow exactly how he would imagine Keith’s voice, and yet nothing like it at all as his brain heaved itself into overtime in an attempt to catalogue the exact timbre of it.

The rational part of his brain told him to be afraid.

The less rational, and much larger part, tried to pinpoint where exactly Keith’s voice landed between smoldering embers and ash.

“So what trick were you planning?” Keith continued, exasperation quelling the growl in his words. Something about the way he said it made it sound like this wasn’t the first time he’d had uninvited visitors. It was a thought that soured all the words he’d heard from his classmate further.

Loner.

Greasy.

Hothead.

Shiro’s throat rubbed against the edge of the blade as he carefully swallowed the bitter taste that had coated his tongue.

“Trick?” He finally said, raising his arms slowly in a sign of surrender. After a momentary pause, he felt the dagger pull away. Waiting just a beat longer, Shiro turned over his shoulder to face Keith, maintaining his crouched position.

Looking up at him, he saw the way the light from inside danced across his eyes, turning them an almost unnatural shade of purple that sent a fluttering rush through his gut.

“I wasn’t planning any tricks,” Shiro continued, arms still raised as he let his gaze wander down the slim, neat trim of his waist and over the long line of his legs before snapping back up in time to see his eyes widen.

“You,” Keith said, the word a single hush of barely there breath as he looked down at him with something that looked a lot like recognition mixing in the mauve of his gaze.

Under different circumstances, Shiro might have even felt a pang of elation roll out across his chest and muting the solid beat of his heart.

Raising his brows in silent question, he drew his arms back down as he slowly shifted his weight and began to rise. Unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, he began to speak once more, turning his tone soft.

“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t me—”

The sharp crack of splintering wood cut off his words as the porch buckled beneath Shiro’s foot, sending pricks of biting pain up his shin as his leg crashed through it. Eyes widening as everything around him tilted with the loss of balance, his fingers closed around air as he descended backwards in near slow motion.

He watched as Keith’s mouth moved around a silent word as he thrust his hand out. A single flash of something warm danced along his sternum as his fingers brushed across his chest, not quite catching his shirt before Shiro hit the ground.

There was a sting at the base of his skull that rattled his teeth, and then everything went black.

***

Consciousness came back to Shiro in soft ebbing waves of warmth that washed out across his skin and turned the backs of his eyelids the same soft shade of Lake Hillier. It was slow and graceful and unlike he’d imagined from years of media and action movies.

Where was the sudden crash that jolted him upright in bed with a heaving gasp?

Instead, he was met with a soft waking that settled him atop a feathery bed, and surrounded by the scent of heated spices and drying earth.

Breathing in deeply, Shiro carefully opened his eyes to a dark wood ceiling lined by even darker timber. Thick twine wrapped around the beams above him, carefully suspending various plants that were unlike anything he’d seen out in the desert.

Or in any terrain he’d been in for that matter.

Purple and yellow and red, they created a kaleidoscope of color against his vision as it focused itself to a point of clarity.

Where am I? He thought carefully, wincing slightly at the spasm of pain that rocked through his skull, reverberating outward from a single point at its base. The last thing he’d remembered was the desert, and a text message, and a pair of eyes that captured the depth of the universe itself.

Oh, right.

“How are you feeling?” Keith’s voice was tight, pulling Shiro’s attention from the items above and to the side where he stood once more at the table he’d been at before the intrusion. Scattered across the scarred and stained table top, were decimated plants and several small glass vials, each filled with what looked a lot like ground petals. He watched for a moment, filing away the quick flash of Keith’s rings as he roughly chopped at the plants on the table.

Each movement of the blade was a graceful slice across the vegetation, and even though he knew he should be frightened with the knowledge of that same blade against his throat, Shiro couldn’t help but think Keith’s finesse was something of a mastered skill.

It was beautiful.

“I’m feeling like,” Shiro started as he pushed himself upright and slung his legs over the edge of the bed, biting down the woozy feeling that tilted the room before him on its axis as he rubbed at the back of his neck with a wince.

“Feeling like I just fell through a porch.”

His laugh sounded more like a wheeze as he tried to turn the statement into the joke. It was met with a glint of fire filled amethyst as Keith’s eyes snapped up to look at him, his mouth turned into a harsh line as he flipped the knife in his palm and succinctly thrust its tip into the wood of his table.

A fierce edge filled his presence with all the force of a tempest, supplying Shiro with one, single word.

Trouble.

“Look, I can pay for the repair—” He began, stumbling over his words as he dragged his arms up once more in surrender, only to be cut off.

“I don’t care about the porch,” Keith’s tone was clipped as he placed the palms of his hands on the table before him, leaning over slightly as he eyed his unwelcome guest. “That’s fixed already.”

“Fixed?” Shiro’s brows drew together in question as he felt his chest tug forward. Setting his forearms across his knees, he cocked his head to the side. “How?”

A small scoff parted Keith’s lips as he rolled his eyes, removing one of his hands and waving it to and fro as if that was some answer. After a moment of silence because no, it wasn’t, he spoke.

“Magic.”

The syllables were hard and blunt, filled with an obviousness that teetered dangerously close to sarcasm, but never quite tipped over the apex. It was a joke, Shiro knew, yet he still felt a featherlight touch trace the shape of his spine.

“What—”

“Why are you here?” Keith cut off, tone defensive as the line of his shoulders hardened beneath the weight of something Shiro couldn’t know. Beneath the burr of it, he could hear small fractures that threatened to snap beneath it. His gaze was cold, tightened at the edges in a momentary lapse that left him reeling.

Then, almost as soon as the mask had fit itself across Keith’s face, it was gone, replaced by a look of blatant curiosity.

“You shouldn’t be able to see me,” he said softly, the thought laced with the thrum of information he wasn’t privy to as Keith spoke the words to himself.

It was an impossible statement that didn’t make sense to Shiro in any capacity. Of course he could see Keith.

How could he not?

With his dark hair like charred ember and his fierce eyes that captured the magnitude of the Northern Lights, he was a presence that demanded to be seen.

After all, wasn’t that really why Shiro was there? Because he had seen Keith?

He had seen him, and now he couldn’t find it in himself to look away.

“What?” He repeated, not entirely sure the amount of air behind the word would push it across the space between them as he watched Keith move forward slowly. Each step was a fluid motion, something like smoke across water that entranced him.

Reaching out carefully, he brushed at the strands of his bangs with a quick flick of his fingertips, careful not to actual touch Shiro’s skin as he bit down on the meat of his full bottom lip.

“My spells don’t seem to work on you, Takashi Shirogane,” Keith mused, rolling his name of his tongue with care. It was wrapped in the plush of something sweet, as if it anything else might shatter it.

Butterflies danced along the ribs that caged them, tickling his insides as his mind emptied of all thought but the sound of his name on the other student’s tongue.

“You know my name?” Shiro asked dumbly as a clever smirk edged its way across Keith’s face.

“Just like you know mine,” he said matter-of-factly, shrugging the statement to the side as pink bloomed across Shiro’s cheeks. A moment’s hesitation stood between them as Keith’s hand remained suspended like a bridge between their being. It was in that pause that Shiro’s mind caught up with everything Keith had actually said.

Spells?

Trouble, his mind replied.

“What do you mean by spells?” The question crumpled the edges of Keith’s grin as he stepped back. Eyeing Shiro thoughtfully, a silence fell across the small shack that was marred by the small pops and cracks of the fire lighting the room.

Contemplation turned Keith’s gaze dark as he searched for something only he would know. Moments passed in a slow, aching crawl before Keith sighed lowly, shoulders deflating slightly before pulling back in set determination.

Flicking a wrist out towards the fire, Shiro started when it flared and engulfed the edges of the barely there fireplace. His eyes widened when he realized that though the flames licked across the wood there, it didn’t catch to burn.

“I’m a witch,” Keith said, voice growing huskier with truth.

Only, truth couldn’t have been what it was. Could it?

The heat of something entirely separate of the fire burned against his skin as Shiro’s eyes darted around the shack, looking for an anchor point before his mind ran away from him.

Images flashed across his mind’s eye, splashing scenes of Keith at lunch, the shack and the fire against his vision in a quick flush of color and light.

Then, they were gone, leaving a single word in their wake.

Trouble.

“Shit,” he managed, head snapping away from the bright point of the fire to Keith as he leant back against the table and crossed his arms over his chest. It was a hardened pose made all the more obvious by his feigned nonchalance as he returned the stare.

At the back of his mind, the small voice reminded him that he should be scared. That magic and witches were an impossible thing. Yet all Shiro could seem to focus on was the way the light danced across Keith’s features, turning them almost alien in their beauty.

He was nothing but sharp lines and edges befitting that of a hard cut diamond.

“Nothing major, mind you,” Keith hummed, keeping his voice light though the thrum of adrenaline coursing through hims was all too apparent by the way his arms twitched around him.

“I dabble in some minor spells only. Stuff like charms to keep people away,” he said it with a pointed look accompanied with a sharper smile before he continued his list.

“Some healing medicine for some of the older folks in town who used to visit my mom. A couple things to make the cafeteria food edible.”

Rolling his shoulder into a shrug, Keith shifted his weight further back onto the table until he was sitting on it. There was a pause as he dragged another thoughtful look down Shiro’s frame, leaving behind the static feel of electricity that danced along its tracks as the air grew heavy with anticipation.

Suspending itself over them, the pause finally snapped beneath the weight of the sharp sound of air being dragged through Shiro’s teeth.

Before him, he watched as Keith’s limbs relaxed as his eyes burned with decision as his mouth parted around a husking laugh.

“Maybe even a love spell or two,” he soothed as his mirth turned wicked and sharp.

That look radiated a heat that melted Shiro’s insides, turning him pliant to the surreal nature of the situation. Somewhere deep within him, he recognized the teasing that colored the statement something bright. Keith was making a joke at his expense, only it fell flat if only because at this rate, Shiro didn’t think he’d even need to use magic to ensnare him.

The power of his lightning storm eyes was honestly enough.

“Yeah?” Shiro asked, ignoring how breathless he sounded as he tried to swallow around the bursting heat radiating through his chest. It blistered the back of his skin, threatening to peel it from the bone with the gaze that was carving him up alive.

It was a heat that he wouldn’t mind burning in, whether it was magic or otherwise. Pressing forward slightly, his forearms protested against the bite of his kneecaps into the meat of his arm.

“And how do you cast one of those?”

Eyes growing wide at the question, Keith’s lips parted with silent words as Shiro stood from the bed, led by the tug of gravity radiating from his core.

Trouble, his voice screamed as he stepped forward.

Trouble, it screamed with another.

Trouble.

Their chests heaved as he entered Keith’s space, his amethyst eyes watching him warily as he closed the distance that had separated them.

Somewhere buried deep within himself, he knew he should run.

Magic wasn’t real, neither were witches and spells, but in that moment, he just really couldn’t bring himself to care.

Because this close, Keith was so much more stunning than he’d even gathered from passing glances and lunchtime stares. This close, he could see the freckled constellations that marked the sun-kissed bridge of his nose, and the dark flecks that punctuated the otherwise fathomless depths of his eyes.

This close, he could feel the heat of the wildfire that was trapped beneath the Keith’s skin.

“You really want to know?” He breathed, eyes catching light as they flickered down to his lips and hovering there for just a moment too long before returning to capture Shiro’s silvered gaze.

“Yes.” Fingers twitching slightly, Shiro reached his hand up, pausing for a barely there moment before he swept a soft, dark wave behind the curl of his ear. The soft brush of the pads of his fingers on the tip of Keith’s ear sent a quake thrumming through his veins.

“Show me some magic.”

So he did.

Curling his fingers into the fabric of Shiro’s jacket, he pulled him forward with a jerk. Teeth clicking together with the sudden motion, he shuffled forward between Keith’s legs, settling his palms on either side of the table as he pushed into it.

Light sparkled around all Keith’s hard edges, turning them into something sweet and tangible as he licked a teasing line across Shiro’s bottom lip. Lightning sizzled and cracked down his veins, curling his fingers into the wood of the table as he opened into the kiss with a breathy sound. The heat of it weighed down on him, pressing down against his core and against his lungs, quelling the air that had once been there until pricks of stars colored the backs of his eyelids like monochromatic fireworks.

Magic. The word was quiet, a mere suggestion of a thought as Keith stole all else from him with the press of his lips and heated palm over his heart.

Maybe it wasn’t the same kind that Keith was talking about, but it was magic all the same in how the gravity between them hung tight to his limbs, pulling him in and refusing to let him go.

With a soft moan, Shiro pulled back, a small grin hooking his lips upward as Keith followed. Eyes half lidded and mouth parted around a breath, he couldn’t help the faint thought that told him he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

“Wow,” he said inelegantly, as if that could properly convey the way his heart was heaving itself wildly against his chest or the way his skin prickled with the sharp sting of want. Keith drew his gaze upwards, swallowing thickly as his hand twitched where it was still wrapped tightly in the front of his shirt.

“Magical enough for you?” It would have had all the bite of teasing if it had had enough air to back it up.

“Does this mean I’m under your spell now?” Shiro smiled, sliding a palm from the table and up the line of Keith’s arm, tracking it over the bone of his shoulder and neck until it lay against the strong flat of his jaw. In one sweeping motion, he brushed his thumb across his cheekbone, earning a low chuckle as Keith shook his head.

“No,” he said lowly. “The spell isn’t completed yet.”

There was an underlying roughness to his voice that made his stomach twist with something like molten expectation.

“What’s left?”

Shiro watched helplessly as the starlit smile returned, turning Keith’s features mischievous as he looked up through his lashes. A coolness spread over his chest as he finally let go of his shirt, turning his hand over so he could crook his forefinger in a slowed motion.

His breath was warm against Shiro’s ear as he leant down, his lips barely brushing against his skin as he spoke, each word sending popping sparks of something altogether enchanting down his spine.

“To complete the spell, you’ll have to buy me dinner.”

Then, he laughed. It was loud and smoky, filled with joy as he pressed his palm to Shiro’s chest once more as he pushed back and rolled his head back with glee. It was a sight that kicked something loose beneath Keith’s fingers and Shiro wasn’t entirely sure he was being truthful about it not being completed because in that moment, he was sure that laugh was a sound he would gladly listen to forever.

Because that, is trouble.

Lance’s voice reminded him, completely unbidden as Shiro leant down to capture the last dregs of Keith’s laugh between his lips.

No, he thought as he smiled into the pressure, curling his fingers into the soft hair at the base of Keith’s skull.

Keith wasn’t trouble.

He was magic.

And Shiro was in for one hell of a school year.

******************************