#the buttons r different... its like they came into my house while i was on vacation and moved my furniture around....

[karmas-chameleon]

Chapter 8!

It is done

The week passed me by surprisingly quickly. I got von Karma’s computer up and running on Monday, but no sooner had the thing turned on than I was given a suggestion to relocate it. The prosecutor had the idea that I could handle his emails and various other computer-related tasks, giving me some work to do in my official capacity as assistant. I eagerly agreed, and moved everything to my own desk.

My additional duties didn't take too much effort, but I was glad to have something to keep me busy for a small portion of the day. With that, and chatting about little things with von Karma when he wasn't occupied with his own work, Friday came and went before I knew it.

I spent Saturday trying to plan out a date in the park, but didn't have much success. My first idea was bringing a kite to fly, but that required obtaining both a kite and the knowledge of how to fly one. I tried to think about what sort of things von Karma would enjoy - which quickly nixed my next idea of going out to buy picnic supplies. My imagination just wasn't strong enough to picture the prosecutor sitting on a blanket in the grass, eating whatever snacks I could scrounge from my cabinets or the nearest supermarket.

When Sunday afternoon came, I ended up heading to the park with a mostly empty backpack holding only sunscreen and two bottles of water. It was close enough for me to walk there, and the brief journey also helped me make sure I was wearing suitable clothes. A skirt and one of my nicer T-shirts seemed perfect for the summer weather. Provided the date didn't extend into the night like my first visit to the park, I'd remain comfortable.

I stopped at the park entrance, and checked my watch. Just over five minutes early. At least with a date so close to my house, it was difficult to get lost.

I was prepared to wait at least five minutes, but just after I checked the time, I saw a familiar car pull up. Out stepped Manfred von Karma, dressed  more appropriately for the heat than last time - in a white button-down shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and tan slacks. A small leather bag slung across his shoulder completed the look, along with his usual cane. I couldn't help but smile at him in his new outfit. Even when he was dressed more casually, he still looked stylish.

“Good afternoon, Miss Martin,” he said, smiling back at me.

“Afternoon, Mr- er, um-” I stumbled over my words, unsure of exactly how to greet a man who was both my boss and date.

“I think you've earned the right to use my first name by now, hmm?”

“R-right, uh. Manfred.” I let out a nervous laugh. It felt different, calling him by that name. I liked it.

“Shall we?” 

He motioned toward the path leading into the park, and we both set off. Already, I sensed the difference between this visit and my last. From the outskirts of the park I could hear the noise of activity, and just a few steps further I saw the cause. In a wide open field, a couple played with their dog, while on the other side of the path a game of soccer was underway. Even the birds seemed to chirp louder, as though they were having fun too. It was a pleasant Sunday, and neither work nor a horrible crime scene was stopping these people from enjoying it.

I supposed that some of them felt more at ease because of the guilty verdict von Karma won in court. I knew it made me feel better. As the trees grew thicker down the path and we neared the center of the park, I was only slightly afraid that I'd see bloodstains on the pavement.

There were none, of course. Not a single trace remained of the macabre scene that once lay under the trees. Only leaves and shadows covered the ground there, the buzz of police activity replaced by wind whistling through the branches and the faint sounds of people at play. 

“Rather more peaceful now, isn't it?” von Karma remarked.

“Yeah. Um, thanks for that, by the way.”

“Of course.” He gave me a warm smile, and looked over to a nearby bench. “Why don't we rest here for a moment?”

I nodded and followed him there, sitting to his left and setting my backpack beside me as he did the same with his bag and cane. I reached over and got a water bottle out, opening it and offering it to von Karma.

“I brought you some water again. Hope you're thirsty, ‘cause that's about all I've got in here. That and sunscreen, if you need any.”

“Thank you.” He accepted the bottle, took a drink, and handed it back to me. “And I appreciate the offer, but I don't believe I'll require any sunscreen.”

“Did you already put some on at home?”

“No, but I don't-”

I didn't let him finish his sentence before reaching back to my bag and exchanging the bottle of water in my hand for a bottle of lotion.

“You should really use some,” I said, offering it over to a bemused von Karma.

“We're in the shade.”

“Well, right now, yes. But it's a sunny day out. We still have to make the walk out of the park, right? That's five minutes in direct sunlight at least, but if we go to the other end of the park and back, that'll be-”

“I highly doubt I'll burn that quickly.”

“It's not about sunburn,” I insisted, still holding out my sunscreen. “You can still get hurt by the sun without seeing it on your skin. And I don't want you getting hurt.”

He took the bottle from me and looked away, grunting something like ‘thank you’, and started applying the lotion. Fortunately, most of his body was covered by his clothes, so he only had his forearms, neck, and face to work on. I sipped my own water then, slightly worried that I'd bothered him and interrupted the flow of a good date. But I wasn't lying when I said I didn't want him to be hurt by the sun. 

After a minute or two, von Karma handed the sunscreen back to me. “Is that sufficient?” he asked.

I looked at him, frowned, and tapped a spot on my cheek mirroring the streak of white I saw on his face. “You've got a little, uh…”

I shook my head as he reached for the wrong cheek. “Other side.” And again, when he almost touched the right spot, but not quite.

“There,” von Karma said, his expression returned to his typical grumpiness after wiping away half of the smudge.

“Um…there's still just a little-” I mumbled, and wanting to avoid another round of ‘hot and cold’, simply reached over and rubbed in the sunscreen myself. “Here you go. Perfect.”

I saw his eyes widen just as I leaned back, and immediately felt flustered. “Uh, s-sorry. Didn't mean to, um-”

“Don't apologize, Miss Martin,” von Karma smiled. “I simply wasn't expecting you to do such a thing. Doesn't seem quite like the shy woman I dined with before.”

“Oh, w-well, I mean-” I stammered, feeling exactly like I did on that night. “It helps that I knew this was coming, I guess. Had time to plan and stuff. Although I didn't really plan a lot. Drinking water under some trees doesn't make much of a date.”

“What makes a date is the company, I believe. Although, if you'd like to have something more material, I can provide.”

He reached over beside him, into the bag he'd brought, and pulled out a small wooden box which he placed on his lap. The top was decorated with a logo of a flower and some text whose language I could only make an educated guess at. I knew the state had a significant Japanese-speaking population, though I didn't have much experience with them - or with any other part of the population, for that matter.

Von Karma lifted the lid, revealing an array of small flowers. At least, I'd thought they were flowers, until I looked closer and noticed the tiniest of differences between what I saw and an actual blossom. But for a nearly imperceptible change in the way light bounced off the petals, they were perfect replicas.

“Wagashi, I believe they're called,” he said. “Beautiful, aren't they? And fresh. I picked them up just before coming here.”

He raised the box toward me, and I carefully plucked one of the flowers from it. I felt soft in my hand, and even more so in my mouth, as I chewed into it with more than a little sadness over destroying something so beautiful. But I enjoyed the taste just as much - a sweet flavor, but only mildly so, that was more refreshing than most powerfully sugary western desserts. I finished it in a few tiny bites, licked my lips, and smiled.

“That was really good. Where'd you get this stuff?” I asked.

“Just a few miles from here. Not far at all, and not terribly expensive either.” He looked down at the wagashi, then back to me, and seemed to reconsider. “There are shops which sell an even cheaper variety, if you're interested. I can't vouch for the artistic quality of those, though.”

“Mmm,” I nodded, with another flower in my mouth.

“It’s quite fortunate to live near such shops, you know. Many of these sweets have a rather short shelf life, so shipping them is troublesome. You need to enjoy them while they last. Quite like real flowers, aren't they?”

“Mmm-hm,” I nodded vigorously, chewing on my third. After swallowing and noticing I was close to halfway through the box, I looked back at von Karma. “Do you want some of these? Sorry, I don't want to eat all your stuff.”

“I would like some. Unfortunately,” he raised a hand still slightly shiny with lotion, “both my hands seem to be covered in sunscreen, and I'd rather not have traces of it in my food.”

“Oh. Um. Oops.” I glanced away, about to suggest wiping his hand on his pants like I would in such a situation, but thankfully thought better of it. “I could pick them up for you, if you want.”

I looked back to see von Karma considering my proposal, staring down at my hands with pursed lips, and eventually nodding. “That could work, I suppose.”

I picked a flower from the box and lifted it halfway to his head. I paused then, unsure of what to do. I had offered to pick up the food for von Karma, but then what? He couldn't just take it from my hand with his own. That would defeat the purpose of me picking it up for him. So I stared down at my hand, my thoughts temporarily ground to a halt.

I then saw von Karma reach for my hand and cup his own around it, pulling it gently toward him, until he could eat from it. He took a bite, his own hand’s steadiness the only thing that kept mine from trembling. And a second, taking the rest of the wagashi and brushing his lips against my fingertips. Then he let go.

“Thank you, Miss Martin.”

“Uh, y-you want another one?” I asked, already reaching into the box.

He smiled. “If you wouldn't mind.”

I raised his second flower up toward him, a bit higher than the first, but not quite to his lips. I wasn't that brave, not yet. And I wanted to feel his hand around mine, guiding me to him.

It was a feeling as sweet as the wagashi itself. Sweeter, even, more like a western dessert. Powerful, overwhelming, and certainly addictive. I savored each second of contact, going back for another and another until I was stopped.

“There's only one left. Are you sure you don't want it?” von Karma asked.

I looked down at the beautiful petals in my hand. It was the last flower remaining of the lot. I did regret one thing - not taking a picture of all of them when I had the chance - but I didn't regret giving this one up. The memory would last longer than any flower, edible or otherwise.

“You can have it,” I said with a smile, and lifted my hand to his lips.

I managed to get it close enough not to require guidance, but he still touched my hand as he took his second bite. I thought it was meant to steady me, as my hands had a slight tremor to them even on a regular day. But he still held on after the wagashi was all gone.

“Generous as ever,” he said softly, adjusting my hand with his. He raised it up slightly and kissed just below my knuckles - gentle and light, only brushing against my skin with his lips. But as he let go, I still felt my heart flutter and my brain shut down.

“I- wha- …huh?” I managed to babble.

“If Friday was your first date, I assume that would be your first kiss?” Manfred smirked as I nodded wordlessly. “I don't intend to fluster you quite so much, you know. But you do make it rather easy. Here, why don't you just relax and wait for your mental faculties to return?”

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer. For any normal person, in any normal couple, it would've been a comforting gesture - a man holding his partner to calm them. But for me, a person whose face had the power to turn red from a single glance, it was precisely the opposite. If my problem was being overwhelmed by emotion, being pulled into a hug wasn't going to help matters. But Manfred knew that, of course. The old bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“I've often found it amusing to watch defense attorneys stumble over their words in the courtroom. To see their faces red with anger, as they make fools of themselves before the world. It's nice to see, certainly, but this,” he squeezed my shoulder gently, “is far better. After all, I don't believe those attorneys were enjoying it.”

I leaned into him. Into his body, his warmth, his smoky cologne. I couldn't move away if I tried, though I wasn't sure if I was simply unable, or also unwilling. He was comforting and electrifying, relaxing and anxiety inducing, and even though my mind and heart were racing, I couldn't say he was wrong. I was enjoying every second of it.

I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself. I'd take a deep breath, and try to push away any distracting thoughts. How am I going to tell my parents about this? That could wait. Another deep breath, and another thought forced itself into my mind. My muscles are way too tense. He can tell I'm not used to this.

I pulled away from him. He offered little resistance, and I leaned back against the bench, letting my head hang limp. “Someday, I'm…I'm gonna be able to do that without my head feeling like it'll explode,” I muttered.

“It's alright. A bit of awkwardness is perfectly normal for someone with as little experience as yourself.”

“...Yeah,” I said weakly. Though ‘a bit of awkwardness’ felt like a huge understatement, and ‘perfectly normal’ didn't feel like it applied to me in any situation.

“Rest awhile. We can finish our walk whenever you're ready.”

I heard the sound of the wagashi box closing and being put away. Letting out a sigh, I tried to focus onto my surroundings, grounding myself by looking back to the trees. It was still shady and cool in the little clearing, as the leaves above me danced in the breeze.

I sat up straight and took my water bottle from my backpack, getting a quick sip before tucking it back in my bag and zipping it closed. Slinging it over my shoulders, I stood from the bench and turned back.

“Ready to go,” I said with a renewed, somewhat more confident smile.

I watched Manfred stand with the aid of his cane, wondering if I should offer to help, but not getting the chance to act before he stood beside me. He gestured for me to set off, and we both headed down the path leading to the opposite end of the park.

Back under the sun, I had a clearer view of what I'd missed the last time I visited. The rest of the park was about as big as the first half, although large portions of it were taken up by a little pond and a play area, with ducks to the left of me and children to the right. I realized a potential problem with such an arrangement not long after I left the shade, and saw a kid run out of the playground to chase down what appeared to be a terrified duck. 

“I think I like the other side of the park better,” I said. “Much quieter.”

“Did you say something? I can only hear quacking and screaming.”

“Um, nevermind.”

“Pardon?”

I simply shook my head, and we made our way to the edge of the park as quickly as we could. There wasn't much more to see at the end of the path, just another entrance that looked similar to the one we used, and a little area for parking beyond that. The only thing of any note was an oddly dressed man walking by, seemingly with no regard for either weather or basic fashion sense.

I must've stared a half-second too long, as he turned toward us. I averted my eyes then, but it was too late.

“Manny!” the man in orange shouted, making me feel a bit of relief. Whoever it was, they recognized Manfred, not me. Any conversation that resulted from this was officially not my fault.

I heard a groan beside me. “He’s seen us. Turn around, quickly, we might still escape.”

I doubted the efficacy of that idea, considering the man was already halfway to us when I glanced back up. Despite the slightly wild gray hair, he had considerable speed. I didn't get the chance to even look the other way before he reached us.

“Manny!” he exclaimed again, with a clap of his hands. “Good to see you!”

“Hello, Damon,” Manfred grumbled, slowly turning around to face him.

“This a friend of yours?” I asked.

“No.”

“Of course! Why, Manny and I have worked together for years. Decades, even!” He grinned at Manfred, then turned his rosy glasses toward me. “Now, where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself. Damon Gant, District Chief of Police of this lovely city of angels,” he extended a gloved hand for me, “at your service.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you.” I took his hand and felt his firm handshake. He didn't let go immediately, which I supposed was some sort of indication that I should introduce myself. I gave my name, then stumbled slightly on my own title. “I'm Ma- er, Mr. von Karma’s assistant.”

“Is that so?” Gant said, still holding my hand hostage in his vicelike grip. His eyes bored into me as he remained silent, and I couldn't meet his stare for long. Eventually, I glanced down at the ground, and eventually, he let me go.

“Well,” he clapped, “here I thought you were taking the day off, Manny.” I looked up to see Manfred glaring at Gant, who looked cheerful as ever. “But if you're at the park with your assistant, you must be working. That's only logical, wouldn't you say?”

Manfred remained silent, and Gant turned to me. I quickly nodded, not wanting a repeat of his previous staredown. 

“Uh, y-yeah, that makes sense,” I said.

“Jolly! Well, it has been nice meeting you. Unfortunately, I do have business of my own to attend to. But Manny, I must say, congratulations,” he turned to him with a wink, “...on the new work outfit. Looks lovely.”

Gant let out a boisterous laugh, turned around, and jogged off nearly as quickly as he'd arrived. It took me a moment to realize exactly what I'd done, and the consequences of what I'd said.

“He…he knows we're…?” I trailed off, looking at a grumpy Manfred.

“Yes.”

“And…I just told him I'm your assistant.”

“Yes. But he would've found out regardless of what you said. He has his ways of getting information about people.”

“Right. Because he's the chief of police. And now the chief of police knows we're…” I groaned at the pavement.

“He's not going to make any trouble for us because of this, if that's what you're concerned about. Damon isn't the type. He'll just hold onto it, and wave it over my head to annoy me, like he does with his little nicknames.”

“He has other nicknames?”

Manfred scoffed. “The man's practically incapable of calling a person by their real name. I can't tell you how many times I've told him to stop calling me ‘Manny’ at work, it's downright disrespectful, really.”

“Well, there goes my idea for a pet name,” I said with a teasing grin.

“Believe me, there's a world of difference between him calling me that and you doing the same.” He met my grin with a smirk. “I think I might enjoy it, coming from you.”

“O-oh. Well.” I swallowed, trying to push down all my anxiety so I could do what I wanted. What my mind and body cried out for me to do.

I took his hand, and drew closer. “Um, M-Manny,” I mumbled, trying valiantly to shorten the distance between us, “I…uh…”

I couldn't manage it, not on my own. But Manfred took his hand from mine and placed it on my shoulder, pulling us together. I wrapped my arms around him. Though a hug wasn't exactly what I was aiming for, I could happily settle for one.

“I was right, you know,” he said softly. “I enjoy your little pet name quite a bit.”

Then he gave me just what I wanted, pressing a kiss to my forehead and holding me close for a moment longer before letting go. He smiled at me, despite my awkwardness, and inexperience, and difficulty with doing even the most simple things that I wanted to do - all those flaws seemed like nothing to him.

“Have I rendered you speechless again, Miss Martin?”

I simply nodded, and followed him back down the path into the park. But we didn't go far before I reached for his hand again, and held onto it as we walked. 

[juicypassionfruit]

Road Trip

Summary: Y/n and Raab himself are on the way to another one of Bam’s schemes but are interrupted 

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, Unprotected sex

Minors DNI please

A/n: This is my first time writing smut so I'm sorry if its awful. Also I want to apologize for not writing as much. More stuff is on the way! Thank you for the support I appreciate it <3

As the rain hit the window, Y/n watched the droplets race down the glass. It wasn't supposed to be stormy, hell, it wasn't even supposed to rain. She had no choice but to stay inside and wait until it stopped so she and Raab could go meet up with Bam. They weren't given too much information other than, 'Meet us in Atlantic city'. It wasn't a surprise that he planned something last minute and it wasn't really going as planned. "So what're we gonna do, wait it out?" Her eyes moved to Raab who stood behind her, bags in his hand disappointed with the sudden change of plans. "Well, there's nothing else we can do" He shrugged and dropped the luggage onto the ground walking towards the couch to sit down. Agreeing she sat next to him and put on a movie to kill some time while waiting.

Raab and Y/n have lived together for almost a year now. Being roommates was slightly different than spending every second together and even spending the night over at each other's houses. It should've come as no surprise that Raab was pretty messy, but when he left dishes and dirty towels on the bathroom floor she couldn't help but be shocked. Constantly having to tell him to clean up after himself and do his own laundry was annoying but she wouldn't live with anyone else. He was her best friend and no matter how much she wanted to strangle him most of the time Y/n wouldn't have it any other way.

The movie played and the rain died down to only sprinkles. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to leave before it picked back up again. The two rushed to grab their things and got into the car to leave. Raab insisted on driving even though he wasn't the greatest driver. Y/n brought plenty of CDs of her own to play in the car. He always complained when she did this but deep down they both knew he didn't mind her music and would even absently hum or sing it quietly. She rarely would catch him in the act too busy singing and dancing in the passenger seat but when she did she couldn't help but smile to herself. "Nooo not Gwen Stefani!" He groaned. Y/n laughed to herself and continued to play the rest of Spiderwebs before ejecting the CD and putting in another one. The next CD was CKY which Raab was pleased to hear. He nodded his head and sang along.

As they continued to drive the rain picked back up again, annoying but it was drivable. They were making a great time and might even make it around the same time Bam does. It wasn't a race but it was better to be there when he was or else they'd miss out on whatever he had planned for the remainder of the day.

Y/n put in a blank CD with no title or anything, having no idea what it could even be. For all, she knew it could've been more of Raab's music. To her surprise, it was Maroon 5. She opened the glove compartment in front of her hoping to find the track-list so she can skip to the songs she knows. To her luck she did, putting her finger on the next button only once deciding she would let the other songs play. As 'This Love' played the rain began to come down a little too hard for their liking.

"We might have to pull over til it stops 'cause I don't know how much longer I can drive like this" He spoke. Y/n nodded her head in agreement. Raab flicked his signal on and pulled over to the side of the two-lane freeway. He shut it off once he was fully off the road and parked, turning on his hazards so someone would see them. Just in case. The two sat there while the music played. "Well is this fun" Y/n lightly joked earning a smile from Raab, "Dude, this is so fun." They sat there making small talk while the music played.

When their conversation came to an end his heart began to race and his palms became sweaty. Raab was staring at her with admiration. Y/n didn't recognize this look and immediately asked, "What? Is there something on my face?" He laughed and shook his head, "No, you're just so beautiful." His face was hot and his cheeks were pink as he quietly spoke. The sudden boldness surprised both of them. Y/n brushed it off by laughing and looked away from him, "Raab, shut up" He continued to admire her with a goofy grin on his face. "I mean it, Y/n. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

She looked back at him and smiled, "I think you're pretty too" Now Raab was turning away to hide his blush, even though it was too dark to even see. Before either of them could say anything else a flash of lightning lit up the sky. "Oh fuck" He took the words right out of her mouth. Raab started laughing in amazement completely unfazed by the situation. Y/n wasn't usually scared of lightning but only having a car as their protection didn't sit right with her. "I guess I'm not surprised you find this amusing." He does dumb shit for fun she shouldn't be surprised. Her laugh was a little forced as she tried to make light of the situation.

He nudged her shoulder with his fist gently, "Don't tell me you're scared of a little lightning, Y/n." She folded her arms over her chest and gave him an unpleased look. Raab only laughed and jumped in the back seat. "What are you-"

"Come here" His words were soft as he spoke, motioning for her to sit beside him. She clumsily moved next to him. The small space did not help her case. Raab put his arm around her and pulled her in close. "Just relax. We'll be fine." Y/n placed her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, ignoring the bright light and rumbling in the sky.

It was too hard to relax even with Raab humming along to the music and rubbing her back. She abruptly sat up, "This isn't working. Let's play a game or something."

"I have a better idea," She waited for him to explain further but he didn't, "Do you trust me?" Y/n nodded her head and shrugged. Slowly he placed his hands on the sides of her face, making sure she was comfortable with his actions. When there was no hesitation in her face, only widened eyes from shock, he leaned forward, his lips hovering over hers. "Is this okay?" Not trusting her voice she nodded her head.

Raab placed his lips on hers. It was unlike any kiss she's ever had, he was a really good kisser. She had never felt like this while kissing someone, her heart fluttered and she felt fireworks. He was feeling no better than her, he's been dreaming of this moment the moment they became friends. Y/n put her hands on his chest as she deepened the kiss. His rhythm was interrupted as she did so but quickly got back into it. Her hands moved to the back of his neck grabbing the ends of his hair. She was desperate to feel more of him. His touch, his lips. He lightly groaned at the tug, moving his hands to her waist. Without stopping he moved her onto his lap. A smirk grew on her face as she felt his need for her. Y/n started to move her hips back and forth.

"Baby" He moaned and her hips stuttered. She was taken back and pulled away. Breathless with flushed cheeks. Their lips inches away from each other again. The smirk on her face returned when she saw Raab with his head leaned back and his eyes closed breathing heavy. Y/n placed a few kisses along his jaw and slowly went down to his neck, making sure to leave at least one light hickey. Deciding to take charge, Raab placed his lips on her again. Rougher this time. His hands slid up and down her back.

His fingertips lightly tugged the ends of her shirt, silently asking for permission. She pulled away just for a second to discard her shirt and bra. While she took off hers, he slid his off quickly. Raab attached his lips to her neck and slowly went down to her now revealing chest, making sure to mark it up. "I need you, Chris. Please." Y/n begged. He could've finished right then and there. Her pleads were like music to his ears. They both took off their pants and underwear, tossing them to the side.

Not wasting any more time he slowly entered her with a groan. When he bottomed out, he stayed still letting her get used to the feeling (and so he didn't finish too quick). Y/n placed her lips onto his for a quick kiss and started to move up and down, Raab's hands helped guide her. He looked so pretty with his head back, eyes tightened and mouth open. Not to mention the string of moans that came from him. She was brought back to reality when he hit the right spot inside her. "Fuck! Right there, Chris!" How could he not give her what she asked for when she sounded so pretty? He continued at a slightly faster pace making sure to hit the same spot over and over again. The feeling of her clenching around him helped reach him closer and closer to his own high. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

"Me too" After a few more thrusts she reached her climax, saying his name over and over again which caused him to finish inside of her. They sat there for a while catching their breath, her head on his shoulder with her arms wrapped around him. When they finally did, he pulled out and reached over to the closest article of clothing in reach to clean her up with. As they changed back into their clothes, the CD had played every song and was replaying the album. The silence wasn't as awkward with the music playing. The thunder and lightning stopped and the rain was light once again. "Guess I can drive again now" Raab laughed. "Yeah I guess so" She replied with a smile. They jumped back into the front of the first place car, checking their appearance in the mirror and putting themselves back together.

As she touched up her makeup he admired her, wondering why she even bothered with makeup she definitely didn't need it. Without turning her head she noticed him looking at her. "You're staring again" Y/n smiled and put the mirror back up. "I can't help it." Raab lovingly stared at her. In a quick motion, she put both of her hands on the sides of his face and kissed him. "Now c'mon we have to get there asap." He started the car and started to drive again.

After a few hours of driving, they reached their hotel in Atlantic City. Because they were so behind on driving they got there late, missing whatever Bam had planned for that evening. They both got ready for bed and laid on their separate beds.

 "Chris?" Her voice was soft not wanting to wake him if he was already asleep. He hummed as a response, obviously half awake. "Can I sleep next to you?" Raab started to laugh, "C'mere" She got up and made her way to the other side of his bed. He turned to face her, a goofy grin on his face. Y/n knew him well enough to know he was gonna say something stupid. To avoid this she gave him a quick peck on the lips, "Shut up."

He laughed and sighed, "I love you, Y/n"

"I love you too, Chris." He laid on his back pulling her into his chest and falling asleep shortly after. 

[heyitsyn]

Manager!Seijoh IWA ROUTE

a/n: uwuwuwuwuwu my mans iwa chan :’)

IM A SIMP FOR IWAIZUMI HAJIME (27) ATHLETE TRAINER

uwu filo!iwa in this :)

and also, listen to lauv while reading this since i wrote this and that song was playing on repeat O_O and also this song

this is my self-request uwu

HES SUCH A POUTY BABIE BLS LOVE ON HIM

onwards we goooo

hihihihihihi yey im so excited for this yall dont even know

ANYWAYS

so,,,,

when iwa first saw you, he thought you were just a cute little thing

your shorter height, your puffy cheeks, and the wide eyes you had whenever you saw someone, or him, do a really cool spiking move

he initially thought of you as a cute little sister hes never had

ehehe that finna change

then the,,,, bullying thing happened

if youd like to read this part, its right here

when he saw you bloodied, all battered,

dear lordie he was finna break some ankles

ONG I WAS JUST TALKING ABOUT SANGWOO YET HERE I AM

like that image of you will probably stay in his memory until he dies of the ripe age of 200

ngl it kinda traumatized him a little bit of how tired and pained you look with the tears rolling down your face and the blood that was escaping your body through your wounds

god you didnt deserve any of that

you deserved the world and the universe yet some people dared to take away your worth

ooo he was so mad

miyo was,,,, hurt??

can i say that??

i dont wanna,,,, explain bara arms iwa hurting a girl so youre gonna have to imagine that for yourselves

but at the end when they said slap, he didnt just ✨S L A P ✨ her

he ✨ B R O K E   S O M E   A N K L E S ✨

oiks is actually scared of him after that

like oiks had to peel him off of her and towards the infirmary where you and the team were

‘IWAIZUMI HAJIME, STOP!’

oof the first and last time oikawa tooru ever said that full name

he was breathing heavy and he was so ✨ A N G R Y ✨ with what she did to you yet he hears your soft scoldings, telling him off for hurting a girl

he wanted to see you

like right now

iwa tore himself from oikawa’s grasp and ✨ N Y O O M E D ✨ himself to the nurse’s office

there, you sat on the bed with the others scattered either on other beds or on the floor 

you smiled at the sight of him and he walked towards you and engulfed you in his arms

‘youre okay now. im here’

he whispered and you buried your face into his chest, breathing in his unique scent

lavender mixed with peppermint

he refused to leave your side so he ✨ M A D E ✨ some room on the bed beside you to sit and he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you close

you held his hand while oikawa talked to you and as you shamefully bowed your head

but you were forgiven and everything was all good until the third years really got into plan

makki and mattsun promised to handle it all as they had family in the justice field while oikawa would go and get the girl suspended

‘but what about me?! i want-’

‘iwaizumi, you literally hit her. it’d be best if you’re not involved right now as you were the only one who physically touched her in a harmful manner like that’

ong when it come to y/n, the meme team is replaced by the assassin team

he tried to fight but in the end, 3 overpowered 1 and he was forced to sit back and opted to comfort you instead

he made sure you were safe to walk home but that day, you were the one who asked him to spend time with him

just you two

like after seeing him seethingly enter back into the room, you reached out and held his hand in yours, eyes trained on your fingers fiddling with his

‘iwa-san,,,, you said you downloaded the new godzilla movie?’

you whispered but he could still hear you and his heart swelled at your meek voice

‘yea, i did. and my mom bought those chips you like’

your eyes flitted up to meet his eyes and a soft smile spread on your lips and there was this thumping in his heart

maybe that was the first time that iwaizumi hajime felt differently towards you

a smile that seemed to be differently perceived than the rest

and it wasnt for the whole team

it was for him

and him alone

the trek to his house was quiet but you would hum nursery rhymes or the songs you heard earlier in the radio while skipping every few steps and tightly holding on to his hand

iwaizumi’s olive eyes watched you still radiate energy despite being so hurt for a long time

they then trailed to your linked hands and he unintentionally squeezed it, only figuring out he did it when you looked up to him and squeezed it back with a smile

he wanted to do something to make you forget of what happened

he didnt want you to think about the cruelty and pain so he was going to make sure you would continue smiling 

thankfully, his parents werent home so he wouldnt have to explain why he has a bandage-covered girl with him 

iwa led you upstairs to where his room was and your eyes widened when you saw what was inside

tiny action figurines of animes like bakugo from boku no hero academia or a tiny pikachu on his desk

there was a large country flag that you didnt recognize and a few godzilla posters and volleyball players decorating beside it

however, besides those normal things you wouldve expected,

there were many polaroids

polaroid pictures that were everywhere with no specific layout pattern and just placed anywhere that had room

iwa watched as you dazedly walked forward and entered the room to move towards the wall by his desk that had the most pictures against it

from pictures of him and oikawa to the third years to him and his parents or just the sunrise and human silhouettes

your fingers reached forward and traced the picture of him and the third years when they were still first years and took a spontaneous trip to the beach

‘mattsun stole his dad’s car and drove us to the beach without a license’

iwaizumi’s voice answered your questions and you looked back, shimmering eyes

this room,,, wasnt just a normal, teenage boy’s room

this was a room that represented iwaizumi hajime

from his natural character description like his love for volleyball evident in the volleyball player posters to the underneath description that was hidden like his love for godzilla and his love of taking pictures of the people he cares about the most

it was all that made up iwaizumi hajime

your feet took you to stand in front of him, still standing at the doorway, and you stood on your toes to try and be eye-level with him

‘youre really cool, iwa-san’

you whispered and his ears turned red, not from the compliment, but by the close distance between you two

iwa clearedhis throat and ruffled your hair roughly, pushing you down slightly back to the balls of your feet

‘i already knew that, brat. now go and sit over there and be comfortable or whatever while i go get the food’

he hurriedly turned to hide his growing red face but you stopped him

‘iwa-san,,, ano,,, can,, i borrow a hoodie?’

you mumbled, nervously thinking he might refuse 

but he grunted a response, not bothering to turn around

‘take your pick’

you smiled and thanked him before bounding over to the wardrobe that was pushed against the wall across his bed that was against the corner by his window

inside had so many hoodies and there were also shirts that were hung up on the other half

they were all graphic tees that either had american bands or anime or game references

opting for a mint green hoodie that says ‘SONIC NYOOM’, you had an undershirt under your button up and as you slipped the bloodied long sleeve off, he swung the door open, eyes focused on the tray of coke filled glasses

then he looked up and almost dropped it at the sight of you,,, like that

‘OH MY GOD SORRY’

he shrieked and carefully but hurriedly backtracked back to the hallway

ofc you were shocked too but you quickly put the hoodie on and went to get him

iwaizumi’s heart was hammering in his chest and he was VERY red with embarrassment 

how could he see you like that?!

a girl who wasnt his shouldnt be seen like that by his eyes!

a touch on his arm reminded him of his position and he was still holding the tray but it was clear from the liquid in the cups that he was shaking slightly

‘iwa-san, its okay. i still had a shirt on so dont misunderstand’

you reasoned and he nodded, still not looking at you

the beginning of the movie was quite awkward as you both were sitting next to each other on the floor, backs against his mattress while the laptop played godzilla in front of yall

but it seems it was just him who was feeling this way bc you were intrigued at this weird monster that was squshing building under its foot and you continued munching on the food

iwa stood up and coughed

‘im going to take a shower’

you paused it and stared up at him, a chip halfway in your mouth

‘oh? you want me to wait for you?’

he agressively shook his head

‘no! its okay i watched it already. just,,,, watch it’

at the end, his words came out jumbled in his hurry to go and calm his heart down

you shrugged and unpaused the movie to continue watching

iwa spent his time in the shower, thinking and trying to think of stupid thoughts like the time oikawa almost choked on a peanut when they were in middle school to distract him of thoughts of how adorable you were

ONG HE WAS JUST SHOWERING AND INNOCENTLY DOING SHOWER THINGS

‘no, i said she was like a sister to me. and a sister she’ll remain’

okay ngl even though theyre not related, im worried yall would be like ‘iNcESt’ but bls a lot of people have tried to sibling-zoned people yet realized they liked them in THAT way

as he wrapped himself with a towel, he then realized

oh my god he didnt bring clothes

LMAO NOOOO IWAAAAA

iwa frantically looked around and he saw his mother’s sakura themed robe and he paused, arguing silently with him if he should wear it

well, it was either that or he went back into the room and showed you,,,,,, this

sucking in a sharp breath, he kept the towel around his waist and slipped his arms through the tight arm holes and he awkwardly tried to keep it tied since he was so much bigger than his tiny mom

what is happening

you saw the door opening and excitedly turned to tell him about this one scene when your voice died down in your throat at the sight of him 

here was iwaizumi hajime, ultra muscle buff man who gets abs with a simple glance of the gym, wearing an all too-tight pink, cherry blossom print robe that was so tight the tie around it was shaking to keep it together

‘dont’

he whispered and that snapped your remaining surprise to double over in laughter

‘its so cute! iwa-san, youre so cute!’

you shrieked and he growled and hurriedly went to to grab grey sweatpants and a shirt before running straight back to the bathroom

when he finally came back out, his face was still red and he was pouting as he sat next to you back to his seat

he could feel you staring at him while looking constipated as you held your laugh in and the second your eyes met, your giggles fell out

iwa rolled his eyes

‘yes yes let it out’

‘hehe, iwa-san, i didnt know you had that style’

‘it isnt! i didnt want to walk in here practically naked with you in the room!’

he growled and you nodded, still not quite believing it

‘hai hai. just say you like pink, i wont tell’

you waved and iwa felt offended

‘what do you mean ‘hai hai’?! its really not!’

your lips pursed to keep more giggles in and iwa growled again before lunging to grab your sides and tickling you 

of course being careful to not touch your wounds

you shrieked at the ticklish feeling and iwa laughed as you made weak attempts to push him off

‘huh? what was that? whatd you say? cant talk anymore, can ya?’

he teased

‘NO!!!! IWA-SAAAAN!!!!!’

you shouted in between your laughter and he finally let up when you squealed out your apologies and promised to never say it again

you breathed air into your lungs and sat back up to recollect yourselves 

iwa saw the strands that escaped your bun and they were scattered everywhere looking messy with your flushed cheeks and teary eyes

oh my god you were beautiful

he was so happy that you still kept that smile despite what happened and he was going to fight to keep it there

forever

it was about nearly the end when you finally realized how different iwaizumi’s hair looked

‘oi, iwa-san, your hair is not naturally spiky?’

he continued eating the chips while still watching the movie

‘what would you expect? even shittykawa’s hair is like this. did ya know that he wakes up extra early to curl it into that shitty mess?’

your jaw dropped

‘EEEHHHH???!!!!!!!’

later, you asked him how he does his hair for school and he blindly reached for the gel that was resting on his desk before tossing it to you

‘here’

you looked at it and flickered over to his hair and then you had the greatest realization

‘GODZILLA-SAMA!’

you pointed and he stopped eating, turning to give you a confused look

‘ha?’

you shrieked in an another round of laughter

‘IWA-SAN LIKES GODZILLA-SAMA SO MUCH HE DOES HIS HAIR AFTER HIM!!!!’

you doubled over to the floor, clutching your stomach and iwaizumi’s flustered expression made you laugh harder

he knew you were smart but,,, not this smart

you figured out his secret

the secret he’s hidden since he was practically a toddler

even his best friend, the guy hes known since he was born, never made the connection

yet here you are, figuring it out not even a year of knowing him

was this part of the many reasons he,, felt his heart beat for you?

oikawa was relieved that you had the bright twinkle in your eyes the next time he saw you and you were actively talking to iwaizumi in that early morning practice

‘oh? y/n-chan, is iwa-chan your best friend now?’

he tried not to sound jealous for his own best friend’s closeness to you and he added a teasing smile for extra measure

okay that hurted me a bit

iwaizumi snarled and blasted the volleyball towards his face before he could even yell or shout

‘iwa-san, dont do that’

you chided softly, small hands wrapping around his muscly arm

but iwa patted your head

‘deserving people deserve things to happen to them’

you rolled your eyes but smiled at him

‘hai hai’

the next week, iwa still kept a close eye on you in case someone else decided to mess with you 

but you told him that you swear youd tell him if someone did and he trusts you so he backed off a little

one day, he was eating lunch with the other third years in their classroom when you busted through the door, excitedly holding your phone

‘iwa-san! i figured out what country your flag was!’

he was halfway of shoving rice in his mouth when iwa looked at you

‘oh? you couldve just asked me though?’

you pouted and went to pull a chair from another desk to sit beside him

‘nooo. i wanted to work for that information. so you’re from the philippines, iwa-san?’

he nodded proudly

‘yep’

your eyes shone with interest

‘really?! you look japanese so it must be one of your parents. hey, iwa-san, which island are you from? i read about them and they have like 7641 islands-’

the others watched as you read through the article in your phone and iwa wasnt even following your words, instead staring at you with a dazed look and a lovesick smile

mattsun, makki, and oikawa exchanged looks of surprise because in all the years theyve known him especially oikawa, iwa was never interested in girls and such

he was a straight forward man with goals and straight sight to get them done with no distractions like relationships or love

yet here he was

slowly falling in love with you without even knowing he is

he continued to fall with the simplest things about you

from the perfume that you wore everyday to the way you would tuck your hair behind your ear when you were talking to someone

little quirks he used to miss was now being noticed even if you were right behind him and not in his line of vision

now, the boys were starting to see the difference of their precious ace

it was as if when he started to like you, they knew immediately by how he was acting

then one day during practice, you were late and they were all looking around for you and when they couldnt find you, they met back in the gym with nervous looks

iwa was already pacing around, a scary aura radiating off of him, and kindaichi, who went with him to look around the school, warned the others of iwaizumi’s worry

‘he was slamming doors open and he was walking so fast i had to run to even keep up with him’

then you busted through the gym door

you were actually picking up food for the team and sweets and you were held up when makki’s puffs were still being cooked

they rallied around you to make sure you werent hurt and you assured them but iwa pulled them away like picked them up and threw them off to the side and took you in his arms

iwa thought you were hurt and he was so worried something happened to you again

the hug was bone-crushing with how hard he was squeezing you but you felt his worry though and you freed your arms to wrap them around his neck

‘im okay, iwa-san’

you whispered in his ear and he nodded

‘let me hold you for a second’

he mumbled and you nodded

‘oi, theres food in the bags so make sure you eat it all. coach paid for it all so dont leave behind anything’

the mention of the food distracted them from you and iwa and they piled on top of each other to reach their food first

iwa was grateful that you distracted the others from seeing him being vulnerable towards you

‘i thought-’

‘shh,,, you have me right here, right now. safe and sound’

you knew how much seeing you all battered messed him up and his attempt of making you forget about it has been

and his worry of you being gone without no sign of where you went will forever be there and he will always have that thought in the back ofhis mind

the next time you came over, you actually met his parents

since you went home early before, you didnt catch his parents when they came home around 10 minutes after you left

but this time, they were already home with his mom cooking dinner while his father was sitting on the dining chair reading a newspaper

iwa walked through the door, shouting he was home, and you did the same thing to be customary

oof his parents were surprised

his mom turned around to share a look of surprise with her husband

sure they havent seen tooru in a while but they were pretty sure his voice wasnt that high pitched

right?

‘hajime, did you hit tooru so much you ruined his-’

then his mother stopped talking at the sight of you holding iwa’s hand tightly when yall stepped around the corner

you sheepishly smiled at them and bowed your head in greeting

oh my

so this was why iwaizumi hajime-san was really really really handsome

his parents were freaking good looking

like his mother was aphrodite with her flawless melanin skin and doe shaped eyes with a mole under her left eye

and his father was like ares, so handsome yet still manly and his appearance was a special type of good-looking with his buffness and ruffed appearance

‘iwa-san, i didnt know your parents were gods’

you mumbled, still staring at them

iwaizumi choked and coughed, flustered

‘oh my!’

his mother placed a hand over her mouth

‘hello’

his father stood up to walk in front of you and held his hand out

‘i’m hajime’s father’

you let go of hajime’s hand to shake his own with both of your hands

‘really nice to meet you! i’m l/n y/n! seijoh volleyball manager! first year!’

you introduced then stepped aside to fully bow 90 degrees

iwaizumi thought it was so cute of how flustered you were at meeting his parents

‘ay nako! nak, i didnt know you had such a beautiful girlfriend!’

she squealed and hurriedly went to stand in front of you and gently grasped your arms to stand you back straight and took a good look at you

‘youre so beautiful, iha. nice skin, pretty eyes, ang ganda!’

even with your research of tagalog, you didnt quite understand what she was saying

iwa noticed your slightly confused expression and he laughed, tucking his hands in his pockets

‘sorry, my nay speaks in taganese when she gets excited’

‘t-taganese?’

‘tagalog and japanese’

you nodded in understanding

it was time to put your basic reserach to test

‘hello po’

you greeted her and nervously took her hand and pressed the back of it to your forehead before slowly lowering it down and letting go

her wide eyes made you think you did something bad or even offensive!

‘i-i’

‘HAY NAKO, HAJIMEE~!’

she shrieked 

‘YUNG-!!! YUNG-!!!’

okay im terrified

iwa noticed his mother’s malfunction and gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder and veered her back to her kitchen

‘sorry about her, l/n-chan. its just,,,, hajime hasnt brought home a girl before. and you doing that mustve done it in for her’

you worriedly watched hajime calm his mom down with a smile and talking to her hushed

in their perspective,,,

‘shes so nice, nak! marry her, okay? shes very pretty and she made an effort to please your nanay, so go and marry her!’

ohmylord im nervous

initially, iwa only wanted to go and hang out with you and watch a movie

not have a full dinner with his family

lmao i shouldve told you that youve been friends for months now

his mother cooked sinigang and adobo and more filipino dishes, adding even more when she saw you were joining them

the dining table was covered with a large plate full of food and you were so fascinated because this was a side of iwa that you wanted to know more about

‘wow!’

you said, not thinking, at the deep-fried fish that still had its eyeballs intact

iwa genuinely thought you would’ve shyed away from it in disgust but your eyes were glistening with genuine interest

‘iwa-san! youre so lucky you get to eat this stuff!’

you told him, looking over at his direction

while mrs iwaizumi was lading in the soup into the big bowl, mr iwaizumi was sitting at the dining table, watching your interaction and hajime telling you what each food was and your noises of surprise

he watched his son laugh when you said the palabok reminded you of the orange boy hinata 

and he also watched his son look at you so lovestruck and exactly like how he looks at his wife

soon, his mother finished and they rounded the table before saying a quick prayer to bless the food and digging in

‘so, what do you want to start with, iha?’

mrs iwaizumi asked and your wide eyes looked around

‘hm, im not sure. whats your favorite iwa-san?’

you looked to your right towards hajime who was busy eating and stopped before pointing his lips towards a direction

‘that one’

‘hah?’

you asked 

mrs iwaizumi laughed at her son’s actions

‘sorry, l/n-chan, my son has adapted my traits. he was pointing to this, adobo. do you want some?’

‘yes please’

the smell made your mouth water and you started to tuck in

maybe it was your managerial instincts, but you used your napkin to wipe hajime’s lips and he was also used to this and turned his head to make it easier for you then he went to grab the water jug and re-fill your glass

once it was done, you both silently went back to eating

his parents watched his exchange and it was like watching a married couple taking care of each other

‘so, l/n-chan, you said you were their manager’

mr iwaizumi started and you nodded, wiping your lips

‘yes. i have been for a while now and please, call me y/n’

‘hajime actually told us he had a new manager for his team and tooru told us too. but we didnt know you were a girl. its just so interesting for hajime to bring you home as he has never really had any female friends’

mrs iwaizumi’s comment made you chuckle and iwa’s eyes widened in embarassment

‘nay! of course ive had female friends! ive had friends from all genders!’

he reasoned but you teasingly smiled at him

‘ah, im not really surprised. iwa-san doesnt exactly have the appearance that girls are brave enough to approach’

he sent you a betrayed glance

‘hah?! what’s that supposed to mean?!’

you shrugged, going back to your food

‘im just saying that you always have this intense look in your eyes and youre always frowning. but its cute so its fine. and besides, i dont think theyve seen you laugh since you dont really smile a lot, iwa-san’

‘but you’ve seen me smile!’

‘eung. but its only to me. if they knew the stuff i knew like you being a godzilla fan or your collection of succelents, theyd see you like oikawa-san’

‘HAH?! YOU SEE ME LIKE SHITTYKAWA?!’

mrs iwaizumi held her husband’s hand on the table as they watched you both bicker and tease each other with a smile

hajime has always been on the rougher side of things and he doesnt really have many close friends other than the team and even then, tooru is the only one he can really be himself around

yet here you are, bringing out the boy hajime really is and making him laugh, a sound his parents dont really hear outside the house

and your eyes

god, your eyes held admiration, life,,,, and you might not know this yet,, but love

her eyes trailed her son who teasingly headbutted you and you faking a surprise and doing the same

then you heard his father’s cough which brought you back to where you were and the situation and the people that were there

you felt embarrassment creeping up inside you and you bowed

‘im sorry for acting like that, iwaizumi-san. i-’

‘no, dont apologize, darling. please, dont’

her soft smile made the nerves in you ease and hajime’s father winked at him and he knew exactly what his father was trying to say

after dinner, you volunteered to wash the plates but they veered you away from there and towards the living room 

‘oh my god, pops! stop her!’

hajime whined because he knows what his mother was going to do

she was going to show him his baby pictures

you sat on the beige couch and watched as she reached under the coffee table and revealed a few albums that had iwaizumi hajime written on the cover

‘now, y/n-chan, hajime wasnt always this pouty. in fact, he used to always have a smile on his face and laughed at the littlest things! like right here! a leaf fell on him and he-’

stories of his childhood was exchanged throughout the night and you were laughing so hard that tears were falling out of your eyes while hajime wrapped your shoulders with his arm and he would squeeze you tightly whenever you made fun of him

‘oh dear! iwa-san! you-!’

you didnt finished as you continued to laugh and he sighed

‘nay, can we go eat dessert now?’

he asked his mother and she was beginning to feel sorry for him so she smiled and nodded

‘okay. hajime, come help me’

‘iwaizumi-san, i can-’

‘no, y/n-chan. dont you worry your pretty little head about anything and just look through more of these pictures’

hajime followed his mother to their kitchen before she stopped and turned around

his mother’s height was around 5′1 so she had to look up to meet his eyes and her hands were clasped around his biceps

she is definitely beautiful and he cursed at how little he got from his mother other than her skin color

mrs iwaizumi married her husband and immigrated to japan to have a family and your polite action from earlier moved her as she hasnt experienced that in nearly 2 decades

‘nay, shes,,,, just a friend’

he reasoned, a wobbly smile to cover up his want for that title to change

yet mothers def knows best and saw right through it

she gave him a firm look with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips

‘nak, dont lie to yourself. i raised you to never tell a lie and lying to yourself is considered lying to someone. she’s not your KAibigan, shes your kaIBIGan’

now, hajime knew a little bit of tagalog as his mother made sure he was able to at least speak to his relatives back home

so he got a hint of what she was saying yet was confused 

then he realized it

his blush creeped up his neck and he chuckled, ducking his head low to avoid his mother’s eyes

‘nak, listen to me. papunta ka pa lang, pabalik na ako. youre still growing and you may be confused right now, but make sure to think wisely and dont live with regrets. nanay doesnt want you to go through it all by yourself since she knows how hard it was. so please, listen to me and pursue her. shes special, hajime. she makes you so, so happy. i see it in your eyes, her eyes, god has fated you together. i feel it’

now if a filipino mother actually tells their son to go after a girl, thats a pretty big thing as its known that mothers are the hardest to convince and are fiercely protective of their sons, especially if its an only son, but mrs iwaizumi literally tells hajime to go court you because she sees how happy you make him and is willing to let hajime go to you 

definitely his mother’s words stuck to him and as he walked you home, he was busy thinking that he was quiet and you were worried as he would be talking right now

‘iwa-san? you okay?’

you asked and he blinked, taken back to reality from his daydream

‘hm, yea’

he answered to look at you

hes been pining for months now and he slipped his hand into yours, holding it tightly

uwu if you want to see iwa moments with y/n, read through the seijoh manager series as theres a lot of them in there

he wanted you yet, he knew it would be selfish of him to keep you in the future

he would be a college student while you’re in your 2nd year

would you want to be so far away from him?

could you handle it?

‘yanno, iwa-san, your dad told me something interesting’

you suddenly said, squeezing his hand and kicking rocks while looking up at the night sky

‘what was it? something embarrassing?’

he immediately feared that they told you that story when he was still potty training and he fell straight into the toilet 

‘hmm,,, no. he told me that he met your nanay when she was a high school student and he was a in an intern at your lolo’s company’

iwa listened and he had a smile at how you said the tagalog word for grandfather

‘he said she almost ran him over by her bike and she fled but they met again when she visited your lolo. through that, they became friends and then she confessed to him. apparently, he declined because she was younger than him, although just 3 years, and he was leaving for his own country in a few months so he didnt know if she would wait for him’

were,,,, you reading his mind?

iwa knew of his parents story yet with you telling it, it sounded a million times more interesting

‘yet she promised him. thats it, just a promise. that she would remain faithful to him, she would keep herself for him and when she finally graduates, she would go and find him and they could be happy together. he said it was the longest 3 years of his life yet when he saw in the airport, he felt like the wait was worth it. because he gets to hold the embodiment of happiness in his arms for the rest of his life’

you finished and he hummed

‘times have changed, y/n’

‘even you?’

you stopped walking and he naturally stopped too

‘would you wait for me like he did if i promised myself to you? if i promised you that despite the few years of waiting, i would still be yours and remain yours until we’re ready to be together?’

WHAT IS HAPPENING!!!!!!!

iwa’s heart was drumming in his chest and he wanted so desparately to look at you in the eyes but you were making that impossible as your head was bowed and your eyes were fixed on the concrete you both stood on

‘of course, i would’

your head snapped up and e/c clashed with olive eyes 

‘i would wait for you. we may,,, be young right now. and they might think we’re,,, being impulsive. but i dont care. because right now, all that matters, is you and me. we can think about the consequences later, but right now, i just want to kiss you’

he admitted, red ears seen by the moonlight

your body shook

‘do it, no balls’

well,,,, he has the balls

and under the moon, at 8:34 pm, iwaizumi hajime kissed you

OML THIS REMINDS ME OF THAT SEIJOH SHORT WHEN HE WAS TALKING TO OIKAWA AND HIS NEIGHBORS ARE LIKE ‘AH SHITE HERE WE GO AGAIN’

it didnt come as a surprise to the team when yall announced your relationship

well,, you both actually didnt tell them outright until like weeks later

what can you say?

you and iwa are very private people and you dont really like to show off in public

even though yall lit rally are stuck to the hip and he does things that he doesnt even think hes doing but he is totally doing

you were only caught by,,, guess who

mrs iwaizumi

it was weeks when she met up with mrs oikawa bc theyre totally best friends and thats why their sons are best friends

she told her of her son’s girlfriend and how sweet you were and how mrs oikawa should be jealous that her son doesnt have a girlfriend like that and the standards for oikawa’s future girlfriend was raised just by that teasing

oikawa literally came into after school practice after a phone call with his mother, fuming

you were talking to kindaichi and yahaba with iwa beside you, arm around your waist totally not obvious guys

and yall just saw an angry oikawa stomping towards yall

‘y/n-chan, iwa-chan, why the hell did my mom just call me and tell me that im not allowed to bring home a girl if she doesnt have h/c with s/c (skin color) and e/c and h/m (height measurement)?’

you shrugged

‘oikawa-san, i’ve never even met your mom before’

but iwa had a hunch

‘ahh,,,, my mom mustve been bragging to your mom. yanno how they are’

oikawa shot him a disbelieving look

‘IWA-CHAN! ITS BAD ENOUGH THAT YOU GOT A GIRLFRIEND AND I DONT! BUT ITS WORSE THAT YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS AFFECTING MY FUTURE ONE!’

he ranted, completely unaware that he just outed your entire relationship to the team

tbh they werent even surprised

like they were all ‘damn now shes taken. but cant say i didnt see that coming’

they took it pretty well too

they know how iwa is and they literally respect this mans and if anything, out of the whole team, he is the best candidate for your boyfriend

dating iwa is totally normal and yall just have increased touches?? like i dont know how to explain like he’s constantly holding your hand or arm around your waist or shoulder etc

literally nothing changed

you still have dinners at his house and iwa also knows your family and all that

and the most important thing is,

he kept that promise

even when he was literally at the other side of the world,

he still remained yours and you kept your own promise and waited patiently for his return

OOOOO TIMESKIP IWAIZUMI HAJIME (27) ATHLETE TRAINER

a little girl with bouncing dark brown hair was giggling as she maneuvered herself around the tall people

a shout from her parents and little sister was only making her run faster until she crashed into the legs of the person she’s been looking for

his blue jersey was similar to hers and she raised her arms up with a bright smile

‘uncle!’

she yelled and he chuckled before hoisting her up to his arms

‘ah, reyna-chan, didnt mom and dad tell you to wait for them? look! tala-chan is crying because you left her’

she followed his finger to her little sister, who was in her father’s arms, crying and reaching out for her

‘nee-chan!’

she screeched

finally, her parents were there and you were scolding her for running off

‘reyna, just dont do that again’

you said and she nodded, pouting and holding her uncle’s thumb

‘thank you, tooru-san. i dont know what i would do if she got lost’

oikawa grinned then gently patted the hat-covered head of the newborn baby girl that was strapped to your chest

‘hehe, its okay, y/n-chan. after all! uncle is always there to save reyna-chan!’

she shrieked when he held her up and hajime shook his head in his antics

‘where’s the others? i saw them in the stands but-’

he was cut off when he heard the shouts and yells from the other side that could only belong to your boys

‘woooo!!!!’

kindaichi’s voice echoed through the place and mattsuhana were rushing to greet their goddaughters

tala shyly accepted the arms of mattsun while makki was squealing quietly when darna was holding his finger tightly as she slept

‘taka-san, wanna hold her? she’s easier to hold when she’s sleeping’

‘oh can i?’

his eyes held the stars as the 11-month-old raised her fist then lowered it back down, sleep still heavy on her

‘waaa~ darna-chan is growing really quickly’

kunimi whispered, peering over his senpai to look at the baby whos eyes kept fluttering

you chuckled while looking at oikawa and him playfully bouncing reyna

‘tooru-san, congratulations on your win. it seems you’ve beaten hajime this time’

you complimented and the brunette smiled brightly at you, adjusting the little girls in his arms

‘ei, y/n-chan, i’ll beat him next time, and next time and the next time!’

every time he said ‘next’ he gave his goddaughter a kiss on her cheek making her giggle

your husband was pouting at the reminder of japan’s loss and you reached over to wrap your arms around him causing hajime to turn his head away from you

‘aww, my 4th baby is sad now’

you cooed and cupped his face delicately on your hands making him sulk and whine

the others, watching the scene, continue to be surprised at this side of their captain that remains to only be caused by you

‘ugh, nearly a decade later and theyre still sappy’

yahaba gagged and watari slapped his back

‘let them be happy’

‘come on! im in the mood for spaghetti! you like spaghetti, tala-chan?’

‘eung!’

mattsun cheered with kindaichi and she raised her hands to share the same energy

once everyone was situated in a restaurant and ordered, small talks were shared around the table of the past

‘haha, spaghetti is how your baba found out about you, tala-chan’

yahaba’s comment made the walking group laugh at the memory of seeing the video you sent in the seijoh group chat

‘i wanted to be creative with my second child since my firstborn was revealed by this loudmouth’

oikawa winced at the indirect diss at him

‘y/n-chan! i was really excited to find out i was going to be an uncle!’

‘youre already an uncle, bakakawa!’

hajime has toned down the insults to keep it pg for the children

‘but-!’

they started to argue, the oldest daughter looking disinterested as she sees this happening or hearing it whenever her dad and uncle video chat

‘it took me forever to find a ‘prego’ pasta sauce in the grocery store like i dont know why. was there a shortage?’

you complained, remembering the frustration

your fellow first years snickered at you and kindaichi prodded fun at you

‘is that why you just outright told him you were pregnant the day you found out?’

you rolled your eyes and watched makki and mattsun and tala watch the youngest as she wiggled her fists in the air and was awake enough to babble ‘makki’ over and over again

that was her first word and although she is now able to say a few words, she still repeats her first word over and over again

‘we had a fight and it just came out so of course i didnt have time to prepare!’

you defended and hajime finished his antics with oikawa just as you said that

‘what-what was your words again? ‘i really want to push you off the roof right now but i want my baby to meet their bastard father first?’‘

you gasped at that regretful statement and punched him in the arm

‘hajime! stop!’

you whined and covered your face with the sleeves of your his hoodie

‘hehe, y/n, you should do that again’

kyotani teased and you glared at him

‘shut up kyotani’

eyebrows were raised

‘eh? are you more hormonal?’

‘do you realize you already have 3 daughters?’

‘iwaizumi-san really wants to have a volleyball team family’

‘at least wait a year and a half, you animals’

‘so,, like hes that good huh?’

hajime growled and leaned over to intimidate but you snarled and jumped on your feet, being held back by the arms by kindaichi and hajime to stop yourself from leaping across the table to kill yahaba

‘keep talking like shite and i’ll make sure none of you become the godfather of this baby’

okay what

one, did you just curse

and two, this baby?!

‘im big sister again?!’

reyna ruined the surprised silence and then chaos ensued

‘WHAT!’

‘BABY?!’

‘THIS BABY?!’

you just realized what you said and smirked at the chaos you created and sat back down, leaning on the back of the chair and smugly taking a sip of your water

‘oh the power i hold in my hands’

you teased and oikawa pointed at you

‘when! how long!’

you looked at hajime who was so shocked that his eyes glazed over and a passerby wouldve thought he was dead

‘apparently 3 months’

oikawa started counting and his eyes widened at that thought

‘you-! you stayed in argentina! in my house! my house-!’

‘yep. both of them created under your house’

what 

!!!!!

hajime fainted 

oikawa screamed

a/n: okay i admit i got a little too carried away with this one. i just love filo!iwa and this was mostly written in his pov bc cmon we all know we love iwa and fell in love w him the moment we saw him

[akaashisbabygirl]

Words: 2321

Pairings: Sugawara x reader

Warnings: Characters are aged up, dominant Suga, submissive reader, reader is on birth control, oral (giving), restraints (arms and legs), vibrator use, vaginal penetration, slight hair pulling, Suga calling you sweetheart

A/n: holy shit, this is my longest fic yet. I hope everyone is enjoying kinktober so far <3

Sugawara’s kisses were filled with passion and love. His hand on your cheek, holding your soft skin between his thumb and pinky finger. His lips were soft on yours, softer than the feeling of lip balm spreading across your light pink lips. His eyes stared at yours as he pulled away for some air. From the look he wore on his face, you were able to tell that something was up.

Did Suga want to go a little further than usual today? Or maybe he didn’t feel like having sex at all? Or… just maybe, he wanted to try something else.

Suga was nothing like the boy you thought he was when the two of you first met each other. Meeting the quiet, grey haired boy in your first year, you thought he was going to be the quiet type that sits there, plays volleyball and reads books. However, you were wrong. The two of you had started dating halfway through your second year, and only began having sex in your third year. Suga was different to what you expected. Never one would the thought of his freaky side came through to enter your mind.

Not even once.

“Something’s up,” you say, your hand resting on his cheek, “What is it, Kōshi?”

Sugawara was silent for a minute, overthinking his thoughts.

“It’s nothing, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, please. Tell me.”

“It’s nothing you would be into… please, sweetheart, don’t worry about it,” he let a smile fall onto his soft, delicate face.

“You say I wouldn’t be into it… is this something to do with the bedroom?” you ask, curiosity now filling your mind as you wanted to know exactly what he had been thinking about.

“I- yeah…” he admitted.

“Please… tell me,” your thumb began to stroke his face, slowly giving him signs of encouragement.

“I want to try bondage….” He admitted, a slight, rosy, red blush spreading across his cheeks as he admitted the sinful truth.

“Oh…. Bondage…”

“Yes- I’m so sorry. I know it’s kinda weird and stuff for you… we don’t have to do it if you don’t wanna…” he began.

“No… I… um… kinda wanna try it,” you admit.

Suga’s lips formed an ‘o’ shape as the words replayed in his head. You wanted to try bondage?

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you or anything… I- please don’t feel that you have to do this because I would like to, I don’t wanna force you to do anything you don’t want to do!”

“Kōshi… I’m serious. I would like to try it.”

“R-really? You don’t mind if I like… um… tie you up and use toys on you and stuff?” he asked.

“Yes. I would love if you did that actually. I’ve been thinking about it for a while actually. I wanna see your dominant… dominant side,” you giggled.

Suga could only smile at the way you giggled. It gave him courage, knowing that you wanted to try out the same thing as him.

“Okay… let’s do it,” he smiled.

Suga leaned forward, pressing one last kiss to your lips before getting off the bed. His hands pulled one of the spare drawers open – the same drawer where the two of you kept all your toys.

Sitting himself down on the bed, he let the ropes fall onto the bedsheets.

“I’m going to undress you now.”

You nodded sightly, eyes following how Suga’s hands moved to pull your (his) large shirt from your body. Underneath, you wore small shorts, ones which showed off your thighs to his prying eyes. You didn’t wear a bra, mainly because of the fact that you were lounging around the house with your boyfriend. Unbuttoning your shorts, tugging them down your legs, his eyes met with the dark, lace blue panties you wore underneath. His eyes widened – loving the way your panties wrapped around your hips, adding the colour to your beautiful skin.

“I’m going to leave these on,” Suga said, as his fingers traced over the lace of your panties, “Can you turn around for me?”

Being the submissive one in this situation, you complied with his orders. You turned your body around, your back now facing his front. Your eyes watched as Suga left the bed, moving back to the drawer to pick up a few more items. Did he not have everything he wanted? He came back, holding a black cloth in his hands – a blindfold.

“I’m gonna put the blindfold on now,” he said, his hands moving to tuck your hair behind your head. He removed your sight with the blindfold, preventing you from seeing anything else.

“Hands behind your back, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his soft voice ringing in your ear.

You moved your hands behind your back, feeling as how Suga held onto them, crossing them over one another, the feeling of the harsh rope digging into your skin as he tied knots around your wrists, holding them in place tightly. Suga’s hands moved you, so that your back was now resting against the headboard. You felt Suga pull himself from the bed, hearing his faint footsteps walking to the other side of the room. Was he going to get something else to use?

Lost in your thoughts, you felt the bed dip at the bottom, a warm, soft hand moving in between your thighs, separating them lightly.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Your legs spread wide, the wet spot on your panties becoming evident. Suga could tell that you were excited for this – maybe even more excited than he is. He pushed your panties to the side, a low, soft pant leaving your lips as you felt a toy enter your dripping cunt. Suga pulled your panties back over your cunt, hiding it from his eyes. Was it a vibrator?

“Move to your knees,” he commanded, his hands helping you as you tried to pull yourself to your knees.

Sitting on your knees, your hands tied tightly behind your back, a blindfold draped over your eyes, you could only imagine what were to happen next. You felt your body being pushed down onto the bed, Suga’s soft hands coming to your ankles, wrapping the thick rope around your legs, tying them together. A small gasp escaped your lips as you felt his hands move from your legs, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. How did he get there so fast?

“I want you to suck me off, pretty girl,” he mumbled, his thumb beginning to stroke your cheek once again.

How was that possible? He was still fully dressed.

“H-how…” you mumbled out, unable to move your hands from their tight restraints.

“Use your mouth.”

You could see the smirk in his voice. You moved your face closer to him, as his hand helped guide your face down to his waist. Your mouth shakily pulled his pants down his legs. It wasn’t that hard, mainly because he was standing at the edge of the bed. Even though it took a lot of work, and a little help from him, you managed to pull his sweatpants down his legs successfully, a sigh of relief exiting your lips as you heard the soft material drop onto the floor. your face moved back to help pull his boxers off, with his help, of course.

Suga’s hand held onto your face, bringing your lips to meet with his erect cock.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groaned lightly as you wrapped your lips around the tip.

Suga has always been someone who was to let out moans rather than conceal them when the two of you were supported by the four walls of your shared bedroom. His fingers dug into your hair, holding tightly on your soft strands as he directed your mouth to take more of him. Your tongue traced along the vein, having him let a soft moan escape his lips. You desperately tried to wriggle your hands from their restraints – but it was no use. Suga had tied them too tight. Your mind started to wonder around the thoughts of why he placed a toy in you? What was he going to use it for?

Your knees dug into the bed as you heard the small click of what sounded like a button, followed by soft vibrations in your cunt. You let out a moan around his length, causing him to groan out.

“Just like that, pretty girl,” he cooed, his free hand moving to stroke your face softly. You looked absolutely sinful with his length in your mouth.

Your panties were drenched by now, your juices leaking through the thin material, able to feel your arousal on your bent legs. You tried rocking your hips back and forth, trying to get some friction onto your mistreated cunt. Your hips rocked back, meeting the back of your foot, just able to grind your clothed cunt on the body part. A soft moan escaped your lips from the sudden feeling.

“Don’t touch yourself… stop doing that,” Suga commanded, tugging on your hair, a slight whimper leaving your mouth.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” his moans were louder.

He was going to cum soon. Unable to see his face falling apart, you could tell by his moans, which began to steadily increase, a loud groan leaving his lips as he came inside your mouth. Suga pulled his length from your mouth, watching as you swallowed his load, taking in how the leftovers dripped from your mouth, down your shin. He moved his thumb to your lips, cleaning the leftover cum from its resting spot.

“Are you going to cum soon?” he asked, his fingers coming into contact with your hardened nipples.

You moaned out louder, feeling the speed of the vibrator increase. He was also desperate to bring you to your climax.

“Rock your hips for me,” he ordered.

Rocking your hips back and forth once more, your clit was finally able to get some attention it had been longing for. The knot in your lower stomach quickly snapped, your cum rushing like a wave, flooding your panties.

Suga’s hands moved to untie your legs. Your legs were free, however, you weren’t able to love the feeling of your legs able to move properly, because your back now had come into contact with the bed. Suga’s hands tugged your panties down, admiring at the way your cum had already stained the beautiful lace of your panties.

“You’ve made such a mess, haven’t you, sweetheart?” he commented.

His lewd comments could only make you blush in response. You let out a whimper as you felt yourself being positioned from your back onto your knees once more, your face coming into contact with the fluffy pillows which decorated the bed. Suga’s hardened cock rubbed against your drenched folds, his hands coming into contact with your hips, a soft whine leaving his lips as he teased you with the head of his cock. Seconds later, he pushed his cock into you, your walls instantly wrapping tightly around him, as drool began to drip from your lips.

“K-Kōshi,” you moaned into the sheets, as his pain began to steadily grow. One of his hands were holding onto your waist, the other tangled in your hair.

“F-fucking me s-so good, K-Kōshi... ohh,” you felt his cock began to slightly kiss your cervix, sudden pleasure pouring throughout your body.

Your knees were dug into the bedsheets once more, the pain slowly exiting your mind as he made you see stars. His hands gripped your waist tighter, drool now falling from your lips onto the pillows below. Your legs became weak, unable to move on their own. Everything had left your mind, your head now only filled with the magical way Suga was making you feel. The position you were in let him hit deeper than usual, your hands trying to free themselves behind your back. You tried rocking your hips back, your ass high up for him to grab onto as he tore you apart. His hand that held yours behind your back began to move, now tracing your stomach, all the way down to your clit, rubbing on your sensitive bud.

You let out moans of pleasure, the familiar knot in your lower stomach building up once more as your mind went blank. Your mind was empty, now only focusing on the way he made you feel, the way his cock would push past your tight walls, tearing you open, or how the way small moans and pants would escape his lips as he tried to continue with the pace he was setting.

“Fuck- I’m going to c-cum… I’m going to cum,” you announced, your body now losing full control, your moans increasing.

“Cum sweetheart,” he demanded, letting out a soft man as he felt you climax around his length.

Suga wasn’t going to last long now, he always would cum after you. His thrusts became faster, desperate to bring himself to his long awaited climax. Letting out a groan, he came inside of you, painting your walls white with his cum.

Slowly, he pulled out, untying your hands in the process and positioning you, letting your back fall flat against the soft sheets as your hand moved to remove your blindfold. Suga watched as your cum, which was now mixed with his, leak from your fucked out hole, before getting up and making his way over to the bathroom to grab a wet cloth to clean you up.

“Can we… you know, try that again sometime?” you asked Suga as he moved the cloth through your womanhood, cleaning you up as best as he could.

“Of course, sweetheart. Is there anything we could change for next time?” he asked, curious to know what you wanted to add in or take out.

“It was… perfect the way it was, Kōshi. Though, next time, I want to be the dom.”

© all content belongs to akaashisbabygirl 2020, do not repost or change

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 21 - Dearly Departed

Title: Irreverent Pt. 21 - Dearly Departed Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: R Words: 2934

Irreverent Series Masterlist

"You're leaving?" It was Derek who had managed to speak first. The rest of you were still processing what Hotch had said.

"I have been given a temporary assignment in Pakistan by the Director and have been told I have minimal choice in the matter. In the interim, Morgan will be Unit Chief." That's what he'd said. You were pretty sure you'd heard him correctly. On their own each of those words held meaning. But strung together like that and coming from Hotch, they might as well have been gibberish as far as you were concerned.

He looked upset at having to leave. He doesn't want to. You tried telling yourself that. But this was also Hotch. You'd seen him stand up to Strauss on countless occasions for the better of the team. So why was he just going along with this? Why was he abandoning you while you were in the middle of the search for Doyle? What about Emily? What about the team? What about you?

You looked around and saw your thoughts in everyone's mind. Penelope still looked struck. Derek seemed more pissed off than anything else. Spencer looked broken - he'd had it the worst with Emily's death. You knew JJ had been with him a lot the past few days. Even Rossi seemed upset. You wondered if Hotch had bothered telling him first on his own or if this was intended to be dropped on everyone all at once.

You could feel the stillness in your body. You weren't sure what you felt yet. Upset? Abandoned? Angry? All of the above? Hotch was clutching the papers that were undoubtedly his marching orders, tightly in his hand.

"What about Jack, Aaron?" It was Rossi who asked that.

You should move. Say something. But what?

"I've arranged for him to stay with Jess while I'm away. He should be alright there."

JJ was still gone too…Hotch was leaving. You looked around at the rest of the team seated at the table and you could feel Derek shouldering the full weight of what Hotch was asking of him.

You felt Hotch's eyes on you. You still hadn't spoken. What was there to say?

*------------*

You'd kept in touch with Clyde Easter after you guys had released him from detainment. At first you'd reached out to him to tell him about Emily - you felt like he should know. He'd come to the funeral and the two of you had spoken briefly. Before he left, he'd tucked a card with a different number on it in your hand.

The two of you had been corresponding for some months now as he worked Doyle from the Interpol angle. With Hotch gone, Derek had wanted to ramp up the search for Doyle but he'd been shut down by Strauss citing jurisdiction. You were forced to move underground. After months of nothing, Clyde had gotten solid proof that Doyle was moving and there might be a window of opportunity coming up. It was time to bring Derek in.

*------------*

"So let me get this straight, after Strauss shut it down, you took it upon yourself to open communication with Interpol to continue investigating Doyle?" You'd called Rossi and Derek over to your house under the ruse of dinner, feeling it would be safest. After dinner the three of you had sat at your dining room table over drinks, when you'd decided to reveal the true nature of the invite.

"Yes," you replied, standing to grab the file from the back of your hidden wall safe. "Here's everything I have on Doyle. Per Clyde," you note the look Rossi and Derek gave one another when you referred to Easter by his first name, "Doyle has operations underway but he has a visibility issue, forcing him underground for the most part. However, he has a meeting scheduled with his stakeholders for which he has to be present. That's our window of opportunity."

"And you trust Easter?" Rossi had left looking through the file you'd put in front of them to Derek. He chose to watch you instead.

"No, but he has nothing to gain by lying to us about this. He's still on Doyle's list and he would much rather we go after him than have Doyle barging through his front door."

"You should've told us, Y/N." Derek had flipped through the file and confirmed what you'd relayed to them.

"Look, you can choose to be pissed at me for not reading you in earlier, or you can help me go after Doyle." You weren't about to be guilted into feeling bad about how you went about this.

"Help you?" Derek raised his eyebrows at your word choice.

"I'm doing this with or without you."

He scoffed and finished his drink. "Yeah, you and what army?"

"I won't fight with you Derek. You want to be pissed, go be pissed. Break something and get it out. But don't act like you don't want to go after Doyle. You're not upset I did this. You're upset you didn't."

His shoulders tensed, feeling the brunt of your retort. You thought he might lash out at you again, but he seemed to be coming to terms with the situation much faster than you had anticipated.

"We still need to find where the meeting is going to happen."

"All we need in order to do that, is leverage over the right person. I have someone in mind," you responded. You'd thought this through. To the end.

"We need to call Aaron."

*------------*

He'd grown a beard. He was back after seven months and that was the first thing you noticed. What anyone noticed really. Besides that he looked tan and more rugged than usual, though that could be chalked up to the lack of a suit. He was dressed like a civilian. Which made sense. He wasn't SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief. That title was still Derek's. As far as you knew, he was simply SSA Aaron Hotchner, temporarily in Pakistan running a joint task force. If the definition of temporarily had been swapped out with indefinitely, that is.

"Sir, the beard suits you," Penelope had told him in greeting.

"Thank you Garcia." Those were the first words you'd heard from him in seven months.

You hadn't gotten up to greet him. You'd looked up in his direction when he entered and smiled, stifling seven months' worth of anger tight inside. It didn't pass your notice that Spencer hadn't stood up either. At least someone else was also sick of taking the high road. You needed that kind of camaraderie.

"Morgan read me in before I arrived. If you're ready, we can talk through the plan to obtain the meeting location and see how it should be executed." Funny how quickly he fell back into the role of Unit Chief. As if he hadn't absconded the throne.

"It's handled. I'm running point on it. You're welcome to join the others in the van or listen in from here with Garcia."  Your voice came out a little harsher than you'd intended.

He looked a little surprised but quickly recovered and nodded.

*------------*

"Subject is approaching." Spencer's voice came through the earpiece you had on. You were seated at a restaurant downtown, your hands folded in front of you on the white linen tablecloth. You remembered this place from one of the first times your father had visited you whilst you were doing your training at Quantico. He had come to talk you out of it but hadn't been able to resist taking you to a nice meal.

"Hello sister."

Dominic had arrived with his permanently cocky smirk firmly in place. He took off his coat and sat down across from you, unbuttoning the bottom button on his jacket. A waiter arrived to bring him a drink menu. You'd been nursing yours for some time now. After he had ordered, he looked right at you. He was trying to mimic your father's infamous staredowns. It fell flat coming from him. Maybe you had to actually be afraid for it to have its desired affect.

"So, you've finally come to your senses, have you?" He leaned back in his chair as the waiter quickly dropped his drink off.

"How are Katie and Amara?"

His brow furrowed slightly before he answered. "Katie is fine, she sends her regards. Amara is seven now. She's started second grade."

You smiled. It had been some time since you saw your niece. "That's a good age."

"Yeah, she's cute. She made a family tree for class, you know. Made sure to put you on it. Julian too."

"That's sweet," you answered, stirring your drink with the straw provided. "You love Amara, don't you Dom?"

There was a pause before he replied, his brow furrowed more if that were possible. "She's my daughter Y/N. Of course I love her."

"She's your daughter. You wouldn't want any harm to come to her."

His shoulders tensed immediately as he leaned in closely to you across the table. "What the fuck are you trying to say?"

"Just that it is regretful when children get hurt because they become pawns in their parents' wars."

He was still leaning across the table and his next words came out dangerously low. "You think you can just come in here and threaten me? Threaten my family? And you'll get away with it?"

"You have two options Dom. Tell me where Valhalla is meeting his stakeholders."

"Or?"

"I'm sorry, I misspoke. You only have one option. That was it."

"And if I don't comply?"

"There are US Marshalls waiting to escort you home so that you can grab your wife and daughter and pack any personal belongings. They'll take care of you."

"You didn't say what happens if I don't comply."

You looked at him sitting across from you in his expensive suit. Being almost fifteen years older than you, Dominic used to intimidate you. He was never the brother that spoiled you. When you'd been born he'd been a spoiled teenager used to bullying and taking his misplaced anger out on Julian. But your father wouldn't have stood for anyone laying a hand on you (Except him apparently, you thought, thinking back to your last encounter with your father.), so Dominic had tortured you in other ways.

You fixed Dominic with a small smile geared to unnerve him, before answering his question. "Papa used to say that I was the pretty one. Julian was his artist. But you Dom, you were always the smart one, right?"

You stood and retrieved a $100 bill from your pocket and placed it under the drink glass.

"You have fifteen minutes. I'll be outside. Clock's ticking."

*------------*

Hotch and Derek stood next to you as the Marshalls helped your brother into the back of the dark SUV across the street.

"You threatened a child in there, Y/N." His voice was low, and yet still carried the full force of his accusation.

You felt the roiling anger bubbling to the top. He had no right to tell you how to handle this. "I won't make excuses for how I choose to fix the mess you ran away from," your rebuke was at the tip of your tongue and thrown at him before he could prepare for the rally. With that, you turned and left, leaving him to watch you walk back to the van.

*------------*

The following day, Hotch had asked the team to come to the conference room first thing in the morning. When you had walked in, you saw JJ standing in a corner talking to Hotch. You'd smiled at her despite being confused as to why she was there. Once everyone was seated Hotch stood at the front of the room. JJ was standing too. Why was she standing? Why was she here?

With all eyes focused on him, Hotch began speaking. "Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team."

Your mind went faster than he could speak. JJ was there. Seven months ago. When he left. When Emily died. Seven months ago he made a decision. JJ is here. She was at the hospital. Why had she been at the hospital that day?

"She's alive," you expelled, pushing up and away from the table and towards the back of the room, furthest from Hotch and the door, your realization propelling you to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the two people at the front of the room.

"What?" Spencer looked at you as you had interrupted Hotch's speech before it had even started.

"She's alive. Emily's alive. That's it right? That's why we're all here. That's why JJ is here and why she was at the hospital that night. Emily's alive." Your mouth was on autopilot as you spoke. The words had left your mouth before you'd truly understood what they meant yourself. It just…fit. It made sense.

"Y/N, we buried Emily. She's dead." Derek stood to move towards you, as if you were having a mental break.

You ignored him. You only looked at Hotch who had stopped speaking as soon as you'd stood up. Both him and JJ were looking at you in what could only be described as horror. Why they were horrified you didn't know. If anything you should be horrified. What does it say about me that I'm not even horrified at this. It's almost as if you'd seen the lies coming.

"Tell them." Your eyes bored into Hotch's. It was a credit to him that he hadn't looked away yet.

"Yes."

His confirmation was accompanied by the click clacking of familiar heels outside the conference room and then the door opened and there she was. Emily Prentiss. Back from the dead.

Penelope recovered first, leaping up to go hug Emily. She looked well, you noted. She was walking around the room. She'd hugged Hotch and JJ next. Now she'd moved on to Spencer who looked like he should be sedated. She was apologizing to everyone. Derek could barely bring himself to wrap his arms around her. Rossi recovered remarkably. He pulled her in for a hug and even kissed both her cheeks, causing her to laugh. You hadn't heard that laugh in seven months.

She was walking towards you. You felt yourself physically recoil.

"Y/N." JJ was using her mom voice. The voice that told you to be fair and kind and sharing is caring.

"Don't JJ." You turned away from Emily who was standing closest to you, to face the front again where Hotch and JJ stood. The only two people who had known. Who had watched the rest of you fall apart and allowed it to happen. And instead of sticking around to watch the fallout, they'd both been conveniently far away.

"How are we supposed to trust you? Either of you?"

"Y/N, that's not fair." It's the first time Emily had spoken directly to you in seven months.

"You were dead. But he was here. He saw what it did to us and then he just left and the whole time! He knew! He knew how it wrecked us." You voice fluctuated throughout and you were breathing as if you'd just run a marathon.

There was silence and then Derek was standing in front of you, shielding you from the rest. He tucked the strand of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail behind your ear and leaned in to hold you so he could speak and not be heard. "Let's do this later. Eye on the prize, yeah?"

For him, you let it go. You owed him that. Not them.

*------------*

Hotch watched Morgan hold you and the visual was a gut punch.

No one else had said anything. But you were never quite that easy. You'd never once not shared exactly how you felt. Likely a testament to having stifled how you felt for years. After you'd confronted your father it was an awakening. You no longer held your punches and while it had been something Hotch had admired in the past, right now in this moment, when those punches were directed at him, he had to admit there was a downside. Even still, he couldn't help himself from being impressed. This was why he loved you. He no longer actively denied the fact.

Your words hurt more than he let on. He had prepared for Morgan to be pissed and for Reid to fall apart. From you he had hoped for a hug hello for both himself and Emily.

But then he had to remind himself of seven months ago. The hospital had been the last time you'd let him hold you. After that you'd been gone. There hadn't been any light behind your smiles. You hadn't confided in him about how much you missed Emily. Well you'd have to be around to have heard that wouldn't you. His guilty conscience had taken your side and was doing an excellent job beating him up in your silence since Derek had talked you down.

He couldn't deny that he was extremely worried about you. He'd talked to Derek after the Marshalls had picked up your brother but Derek had brushed him off, saying you were doing what had to be done to keep afloat. He wondered if Derek was right. You were treading water to stay afloat because he'd taken the life raft right from under you.

He worried how long you could keep going before the force of the waves drowned you.

[teamdoubleoh]

Rings - 00Q secret marriage AU

pt. 1/2        pt. 2/2

Q and Bond flirt and MI6 ships it. There is a betting pool.

wordcount: 2791

Many thanks to Kira for helping me figure out the ending.

007 and the Quartermaster meet.

Really, the minions should have seen it coming. So should have R and Eve Moneypenny and M and the rest of the double 0s.

Introducing 007 to the Quartermaster had been the simultaneously best and worst decision MI6 had made since the founding of the double-0 program but the meeting of the youngest Quartermaster and the oldest serving Double-0 in the history of MI6 had not only been inevitable; at that point no one had really had any idea of what they were getting into.

Their fist meeting had been witnessed only by R, who was in Q’s ear at the time, and a few minions who kept tabs on the Quartermaster via CCTV, both of which was a plain matter of security.

It had been a smooth affair. Q had been brought to the National Gallery in a standard issue vehicle and entered the building with only a brief glance at the cameras above. He had strolled around for a bit, perfectly anonymous to everyone around him.

Then he had reached the meeting point and 007 had been waiting, ready to receive his papers and equipment.

»…Always makes me feel a bit melancholy. Grand old warship being ominously hauled away to scrap… Inevitability of time, don’t you think? What do you see?«

The cameras hadn’t been able to capture the slyness of the smirk in its entirety, and neither would they catch the cynicism in 007’s voice when he answered,

»A bloody big ship. Excuse me.«

Then Bond had turned away, and it had seemed as though he really was about to leave, had it not been for the very slightest of smiles on his face.

»I’m your new Quartermaster.« Q said, still facing the painting of ›A bloody big ship‹

Bond sat back down.

»You must be joking.«

»Why? Because I’m not wearing a lab coat?«

»Because you still have spots.«

»My complexion is hardly relevant.«

»Your competence is.«

»Age is no guarantee of efficiency.«

»And youth is no guarantee of innovation.«

The whole exchange had been laced with a hint of amusement that went over the heads of the Minions, whose grainy CCTV feeds and earpieces could only pick up so much.

They didn’t catch the glistening of a pair of rings on the Mens ring fingers either.

Later all present observers would agreed that, in retrospect, this was the point from which it had gone downhill. Though ›downhill‹ was the wrong expression entirely, because the Quartermaster and 007 had caught on like a house on fire.

And so it had begun.

When Bond wasn’t on mission he hung around Q-branch and tailed Q. Sometimes he would flirt in his not-so-subtle ways or bring Q fresh cups of earl grey.

Q flirted back be either complaining endlessly about Bond’s tea or not complaining at all, depending on how busy he was.

After a week of this Q branch had opened a betting pool on when and how they’d go on a date.

When Eve first found out she was close to furious - about not being told that is - and regularly joined the Minions on breaks to discuss the latest gossip.

Once Bond had brought Q Indian takeaway after returning from a mission. The wagers rose immediately.

Then Spectre happened. Bond had gone with Madeline and the entirety of Q-Branch and all of the double-0s were ready to murder Bond and incredibly careful around Q.

Q didn’t seem to care that Bond had run off but everyone at MI6 who was at least slightly invested in the matter was secretly convinced he was just putting on a brave face.

A few weeks after Bonds disappearance Eve and R - who was a mother hen to everyone in Q-Branch - told Q that he should just forget Bond; in response Q only looked at them like they’d just told him to get a job at an Internet café and asked what they meant by that.

Eve and R retold the exchange during break and again there was a major shift in the bettings. Not that anyone was having any doubts about the Quartermaster and 007 ending up together, but the predicted time for a first date moved back considerably.

Of course Bond came back eventually, as he always did.

He even brought with him all of his equipment, most of which was intact, including the Aston Martin which sported a new set of scratches but was otherwise fully functioning. When Bond entered Q-Branch - for the first time in six months after dropping of the radar as well as everyone’s favours - Q looked up from his Laptop, smirked at Bond when he laid out the equipment carefully on his desk and said with an eerie lightness in his voice: »Thank god you didn’t ruin the car. I’d hate to rebuild it from scratch again.«

Bond returned the smile and answered in his usual flirtatious tone »Don’t get used to it. I don’t think I’ll do a mission that quiet or extensive ever again.«

Q put his head to one side, and squinted at Bond and mused, »I suppose not, no. Yet another broken record, hm 007?«

Bond considered this for a moment, but refrained from answering and instead took Q’s empty scrabble mug and ventured to the Q-Branch break room to make a new cuppa.

The minions, who had collectively held their breath since 007 had set foot in Q-Branch, exhaled slowly and carefully but didn’t refrain from retelling the situation in vivid, if not dramatic detail to Eve and the agents during lunch.  Eve later told M while delivering files.

Not a full 24 hours after Bond’s return everyone in on the situation had changed their bettings again.

By day three of 007’s - ‘unexpected’ wasn’t the right word, considering the bets had still run high during his time of absence - return, Bond had taken it onto himself to make sure the Quartermaster drank and ate properly and even organised a large couch from one of the waiting rooms to put in Q’s office. He denied that the sudden appearance of a bed substitute had anything to do with him, claiming he wouldn’t care how or where Q spent the night.

His lie would have been more believable had Bond not spent the better part of the last two days trying to convince the Quartermaster to sleep more.

Q only rolled his eyes so far back it looked painful and turned to work on a new project.

Obviously the information on Bond’s exact phrasing was passed around MI6 carefully and was thoroughly discussed during coffee break. By the end of the week everyone at MI6 was convinced Bond had stopped seeing other people altogether in an effort to get the Quartermaster to have dinner with him.

Then Bond was cleared for the field.

While he regularly lost his MI6 issued watches and guns, he always returned whatever communication device he was entrusted with. Q seemed to appreciate this, and always smiled brightly at the agent when he carefully placed the most recent earpiece or radio on Q’s desk. While the betting pool was often reset by a few days or even weeks it was only once after Bonds disappearance, that it was collectively delayed by more than five months.

Five weeks after Bond’s return to MI6, R checked into the google docs spreadsheet that the Minions had created to keep tract of the wagers, only to find that almost everyone had changed their wagers to an average of plus seven months until first date.

Confused she checked the minion group chat and, upon realising that something had happened during her off-shift, got Minion #22, Lake, to summarise why exactly there had been such a massive delay in the predicted dates.

Apparently Bond had come down to Q-Branch after spending his morning at the gym, which was not unusual. He had sported black slacks and a white shirt and the top three buttons had been undone. 

That was unusual. R didn’t think she’d seen 007 without tie ever. 

And Bond had been wearing a necklace, #22 continued, but not any necklace. There’d been a ring on it. It had been a simple gold band, fitted to someone with rather thin fingers in comparison to 007 himself.

The Minions had come to the obvious conclusion; Bond had been married and, whatever had happened to the original wearer of the ring, Bond wasn’t over it.

R contacted Eve Moneypenny.

To the dismay of all of MI6, while Bond kept flirting with Q and regularly fed him take-away, Q didn’t respond to his efforts any different from before. He ate and drank what Bond handed him, and even sometimes took a nap. Not once Q answered Bond’s offers to take him out for dinner with anything but an exasperated sigh.

R didn't get to see the fabled ring until two months later.

Bond was on a mission in Lebanon, trying to seduce a woman who knew something. Getting into the party had been ridiculously easy and within ten minutes of his arrival at the luxurious villa Bond was surrounded by pleasant music, thick red carpets and about two hundred strategically placed candles, that basked the crowd in golden light. 

Bond was currently talking to a grey haired man sporting a white suit, whose tongue had been loosened by the free champagne significantly since the beginning of the event.

When the target entered the room every one present turned to towards her, including Bond. The grey haired man seemed to read his expression all to easily - though admittedly the years as spy had made Bond a formidable actor.

The man took another champagne flute from one of the passing waiters - his fifth - and shook his head at Bond, when he turned back to him. "Oh that is an expression I have seen before." He slurred. 

Bond cocked one eyebrow. 

"That look on your face, Mr. Sterling. Forget it. She doesn't go for men like us."

"Men like us?" Bond asked with an easy smile.

The target was, according to her files, eight years older than him, and the grey haired man was older than her by a few years, so age couldn’t be the deciding factor, and neither could money, as Bond was ‘Mr. Sterling’ tonight. 

The grey-haired man sighed with all the theatrical expertise of a sixth grader. "She likes to go for married men -- Only for married men, ever since her husband died - the third one I mean." He hiccuped.

Q-branch was dead silent.

So was Bond, for a split second.

Then he turned away from his conversational partner and took a step into the crowd.

R, who was on CCTV duty for the night, could see him open his mouth to speak-

"Not a word James." Q unceremoniously cut off what ever Bond might have said. The place had excellent cameras, R found, as she watched Bond smile innocently.

"I don't know whatever you could mean, dear Quartermaster."

Q groaned and shoved up his glasses over his forehead to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Oh, grow up 007 -- Just do it."  

Bond reached in the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a chain with a ring on it.

Judging by the reaction of the minions - a collective intact of breath that was so blatantly obvious that even Q briefly looked up from his laptop in confusion - this was the necklace Bond had been wearing a few months back.

Bond, unaware of the consequences of his actions to the betting pool, opened the chains fastener and pulled the ring off. Then he carefully placed the chain back in his pocket and slipped the ring on his left ring finger where it fit surprisingly well. He straightened his suit jacket and made his way across the room to their target.

The rest of the mission passed in a haze.

Bond seduced the woman, who was convinced that he was a married man and thus more or less openly spilled some secrets MI6 had been after for weeks -- as well as some no one had had any idea about, but they weren’t going to complain about that, were they.

The intel was transmitted via Q-branch to the recipient, 004 - R's fiancé, currently on mission to snuff out a child trafficking ring in the north of the united  States - and Bond, for once perfectly following his orders to return immediately, managed to grab the first plane to England the following morning.

What MI6 personnel found much more interesting than the gathered intel was the fact that not only was Bond apparently over his marriage - or at least had no problem using it to his advantage - but Q had apparently been well aware the spies former engagement.

Within three hours the betting pool was fully reset once again.

Bonds flight -Beirut to London, almost 2000 kilometres -  took four hours which he spent sleeping. When he arrived at Heathrow, still quite tired, he found that Q had already organised a non descriptive silver car to take him back to MI6. Yet, by the time Bond finally reached the steel doors of Q branch it was 10 am and the day shift had taken over again. The only thing he wanted now was a warm bed with a Quartermaster in it, and since Q had worked even longer than he had he woudn’t object to James taking him home. If you asked James he slept way too little anyways.

Bond put his Hand on the scanner to his left and waited till it had picked up his handprint - something Q branch apparently had an obsession with - and stepped through the opening doors.

R sighed. Deeply. She was supposed to be at home by now, enjoying the off time or sleeping, yet here she was, sitting at her desk, working on a project. And it was all Bond's fault.

Well technically.

She just wanted to be present for 007 return - usually the best time to pick up fresh gossip about the Agents budding relationship with the quartermaster. Unfortunately she now could barely keep her eyes open. Time for another coffee then. She stood, cup in hand, when the for opened and Bond strode in. Fucking finally.

As usual Bond went straight for the Quartermasters desk at the back centre of the room where Q was sitting, typing idly away on his sticker covered laptop.  

As usual Q looked up at the sound of Bonds steps on the cold concrete floor, a smile forming on his lips. Since Bond hadn’t been equipped with anything more than a com system for the mission, only carefully placed the small device on Q’s desk.

“You know 007, I might just start equipping you with only a com. At least if I don’t give you any tech, you won’t be able to loose it, hm?”

“Aw Q, you wouldn’t do that to me.” 

Q didn’t answer. 

“Would you?”

Q wasn’t listening. Even from R’s position pretty much all the way across the room it was clear that he was staring at Bonds hand. The one with the Ring on it. 

Now even James noticed that something was amiss. 

Q stood from his chair and extended his hand towards 007. “James, Hand over the Ring.” There was something in his voice that was a perfect mix of annoyance and fondness - which confused R a great deal. 

Bond liftend his hand and pulled the ring off. It must have been a little too tight because he struggled quite a bit before dropping it in Q’s outstretched hand. 

R took a step towards Q’s desk, to have a closer look. By now the attention of the entire room was in Q and 007.

Q rummaged with his free left hand through the pocket of his cardigan and pulled out a gold ring that seemed - to everyones surprise - to be the exact same Bond had just handed him, safe for the size. Bond’s ring was narrower, while Q’s looked like it would fit comfortably on the Quartermaster thumb. 

Q took the larger ring and slipped it onto Bond’s outstretched finger, where it fir perfectly. Bond smiled, not fazed in the least. 

“I was wondering why it was so tight.” 

Q scoffed. “Oh yes, it’s almost as though there was a reason they get fitted, hm?” 

Bond’s smile only widened as he picked up the smaller ring to slip it onto Q’s ring finger, apparently completely unaware of the minions shocked expressions around them. 

“Join me for dinner then, Quartermaster?”

R chocked on air, but Q only rolled his eyes and shut down his laptop, carefully placing it in his messenger bag. 

“James, for the love of god. It’s 10:12 am and I just completed a 38 hour shift.“

Bond’s smirk only grew as he offered his left arm for Q to take. “Bed it is then.”

[ramble-writes]

Love When It Rains. . .

Ah yes... More feelsies Legion stuff, but more Frank! By the title, this is HEAVILY based off from Corpse’s Agoraphobic. I can see within a modern AU that something like this Frank would listen to due to the deep meaning and how the words are, it fits with him, So here it be!

TW: MENTION OF DRUG USAGE

TW: MENTION OF SUICIDE

TW: SUICIDE SCARS

There’s a reason this blog is for 18+

-

Yeah, yeah, hey. Cause I can’t do shit right, I can’t learn my lesson I can’t do shit right, take anti-depressants.

Another day with this family in Ormond. Frank swore the more this family weighs on him and bears down on him that he might as well inhale the anti-depressants he has. It’s tempting, but not as quick. He tries to distract himself via the music playing on his phone. One came on that made him stop. SoundCloud has its funny way with throwing in random suggested songs when his playlist is over, but this one made him stop to listen to it.

Illness and welfare robbed my adolescence My friends probably hate me, can’t answer a message

His phone vibrating caught his attention, making him look. Susie had message the group chat he, her, Julie, and Joey have together. 

‘r u ok?’

He didn’t bother with answering. Didn’t want to. The yelling downstairs and the throbbing in his back from being shoved into the railing of the stairs by accident played vividly in his mind that he couldn’t bring himself to answer. It’s been like that every time this happens. Which is often. He swore by this point the three of them are done with his depressed ass and how he forgets the little things at times. He knows he hates himself over it. Frank’s phone buzzes a few more times, but he ignores it.

Filled with anxiety, always be hidin’ me Fellin’ inadequate’s always what’s driving me

The yelling downstairs died down finally. He would head down to see about getting food, but the fear of one of them saying anything about why he was eating so late made him stay. Plus, the last thing he wanted was for them to see the wrappings around his wrists. Sweaters have been his friend in hiding the bandages that hid the scars there. Some faded, some are pink in coloration, and there was only a couple that were still an angry red. Sometimes just downing pills till he passed out didn’t cut it.

Not a role model, that's not what I strive to be Can't go outside, I'm afraid they be finding me

Frank looked outside at the sound of voices, seeing some older boys in his class walking by. It was good that they didn’t see him move into this house when he was moved to a different house in Ormond. These three usually knew how to find him, knew what pushed his buttons to get him to snap which usually resulted in him getting in trouble. He hated them with a passion, but with his current scars, he had a feeling the bullying would heightened.

Paranoid 'bout my privacy, yeah And they always askin' questions 'bout my face, can't relate Fuckin' caught my own reflection, broke a mirror the other day

That line made him pause in staring out to look at his knuckles. He got yelled at for breaking the mirror when he punched it, but the father still took him to the doctors to get the glass removed. Together, they had replaced the mirror like as if nothing happened. He was forgiven. When he was asked that day on why he did that, he gestured to the scar on his nose, a hidden one in his hair, and faded scars of imprinted nails in his shoulder. A previous family was pretty damn abusive and it was both a mental and physical scar. The father understood then.

Got a lot of bad shit that I'm taking to my grave Got a fuckin' date with death, on house arrest 'til trial date

The door to his room opened up. Frank blinked at seeing Joey, Julie, and Susie there. Julie momentarily averted her eyes from him, which caused for him to let out a quiet ‘ah’ under his breath. They had gotten into an argument a few days ago, and he had almost raised his hand against her. Thankfully, he had stopped himself before hitting her. And the realization hurt terribly that he broke down and just ran. He had cut his wrists that very night...

So I grab the red wine, on rainy days and then I pour it 'Cause I'll age another fuckin' thousand days before I know it

Joey went over to the window seat that Frank is sitting on, plopping himself right next to him. It’s his spot. Next to him has always been his spot while Julie is on the other side. Susie is the one always squished in the middle.

“Audrey wanted us to bring your food up, knowing you haven’t eaten,” Julie said, holding a plate in her hands. Lasagna. A bit of a comfort food for him because it’s something about the warmth with the cheese and the meat and the fact that its a bit gooey that Frank likes it. When she handed him the plate, he pulled his legs in so she could sit down in front of him as he began to eat.

Yeah, I'll spend 'em all inside, waste my time while I'm scrollin' But I love when it rains 'cause I'm agoraphobic

Those heavy clouds started to finally let loose the rain. It patted against the window like the sound of someone dumping beads into a glass vase. When Frank finished eating, Susie had set the plate aside on the desk and sat herself down in front of Joey. All four of them shifted how they sat to be comfortable. Frank leaning on Joey, Susie resting on Joey’s chest, and Julie resting on Frank’s shoulder.

“You didn’t hurt yourself again after that day.. did you?” Julie’s voice was soft as she looks to the wrappings on Frank’s wrists. He didn’t respond and that was all she needed in knowing that he did. She interlocked her fingers with his gently, feeling him tense up momentarily before relaxing under her with a low sigh. This prompted Joey to turn his hand over to lace his own fingers up from behind. Susie finished it by placing her hand on top of the others to hold on.

The contact from the three of them made Frank sigh again, but his chest shuddered as it did. The tears that followed weren’t controlled as he rested his head back on the wall. A squeeze from Julie to reassure him that they’re there for him and he took his time to let out every bit of pain he suffered through his years growing up to now. In all honesty, these three feel like the family he should’ve had growing up.

I'm not okay, I'm not okay I'm not okay, I'm not okay What's the point? I'm not okay What's the point? I'm not okay This shit is fuckin’ difficult. . .

[queenxxxsupreme]

hi!! i love your writing sm and was wondering if i could request something for regis x reader? like maybe regis comforting the reader who is having an anxiety attack? thank u!!:) ps whatever anons are harrassing you should just get the hell out of here, they're immature af. you're amazing, and your writing about secondary characters is what i especially love abt ur account:)

A/N: Hi babe!! I am so so sorry it’s taken me so long to answer this! I’ve never experienced an anxiety attack. I apologize greatly if this is complete trash! I tried to research as much as I could but I know research and actually having one can be very different. 

Warning: anxiety attack, mentions of being robbed

***

You did your best to move quietly out of the bed so as to not disturb the vampire sleeping just next to you. You gently pulled his hands from you, sitting up in the bed and moving to the edge.

His long limbs still reached out for you, fingers tangling in the back of the shirt of his you wore. 

“Where are you going, my love?” He murmured in his sleep-dazed state. 

You looked over your shoulder to see that his eyes were still closed. You could offer him no answer, tears blurring your vision. Your throat was scratchy and it felt as if it was closing up. You couldn’t breathe. You just needed to go, to leave before he witnessed you at your lowest. 

You got out of bed, your feet meeting the cold wooden floor. You hurried to leave, using only what little moonlight came in through the window to guide you out of the room. 

The hall spun as you moved too quickly. Your hand came up to the wall, steadying yourself. You closed your eyes and tried to take a breath in to lessen the lightheadedness you felt. It worked, but only for a moment. 

A dull ache began in your ribs, accompanied by the sensation of pins and needles prickling across your hands and arms. A thin layer of sweat found its way to your skin even though it was a chilly autumn night and the fire in the main room had died down to just burning embers now. 

You pushed the shutters open, allowing a breeze to enter your home. You paused for a moment, finally able to take somewhat of a breath. 

Come on, Y/N. You need to pull yourself together. 

You closed the shutters and locked them tight, then pulled a chair at the table out with the intention of sitting down. However, before you could sit down you had to check all of the windows and the front door to make sure they were locked. 

You didn’t hear the bedroom door creak quietly open, nor did you notice the Higher Vampire lingering in the dark shadows of the hallway. 

He watched you with concerned eyes as you moved across the room from one window to the other, checking and then checking again to make sure they were locked. 

“Y/N?”

His voice made you jump.

“What are you doing, darling?”

“No-Nothing, Regis. Please.” Your voice was hoarse. You kept your back to him, resting your hands on the window sill and hanging your head for a moment. Fuck. “Go back to bed. Go back to bed.”

“Your heart is beating rather unnaturally.” He started to move towards you. When he got into your peripherals, you turned to him, holding your hand up to stop him. 

“Please, Regis.” You begged softly, shaking your head. You couldn’t meet his gaze, so instead you focused on the buttons to his tunic. “I-I don’t want-I can’t have anyone touching me right now.”

His brows were drawn together, concern and worry plastered on his features. 

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He asked softly. 

“I’m fine. Just fine. Please, go to bed.”

“I can’t comfortably leave you out here when your heart is racing so quickly and you’re crying, my dear.” He shook his head. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, bringing your hand up to your eyes.

Now he knows. Now he knows, and there is nothing you can do to fix it. He’s going to think you’re crazy and leave you.

“Did something happen?”

“There…. Something was outside.” You whispered, quickly wiping away your tears. “I heard it. I-I was laying in there with you…. And it was…. Something hit the house. I can’t-I’m scared, Regis.”

“Would you like me to go take a look?” He offered, gesturing to the door. 

“No!” You answered a little too quickly, your hand falling from your face.

“I promise you there is nothing out there that could hurt you, Y/N. I wouldn’t allow it.”

“You can’t stop it.” You shook your head, moving away from him to check the front door. You knew it was locked but the rational part of your brain didn’t have a say in the matter. 

Regis watched helplessly as you checked the door. 

“Tell me what I can do to help you.”

You leaned against the door for a moment, clenching your hands in tight fists by your sides. 

“I-I don’t know.” You admitted. “I can never- I can never stop this. It has to happen.”

“What is this?”

Your eyes closed and you shook your head firmly, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

A few silent minutes passed as Regis waited patiently for you to be able to speak. 

Your head fell forward, chin resting on your shoulder. 

“It’s happened for a while now…. There were bandits who passed by. They came in…. It was dark. So dark. They ransacked my home. Stole things from me. My mother’s jewelry.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Y/N.” Regis took a few steps towards you but then stopped when he remembered that you didn’t want anyone near you. 

“I need you to know.” You spoke. “It happens sometimes. Things build up. They build up and I can’t stop it. I can’t breathe. I can’t- Regis, I can’t breathe.”

Sensing your panic, Regis moved a little closer to you. 

“Do you want me to-,”

Before he could finish his sentence, you were throwing your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck. He carefully wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. He held you firmly for a few moments, trying to calm your shaking body as best as he could. 

“Please sit down, my love.” He gestured to the chair you had pulled out earlier. He guided you to the chair and once you sat down, he moved to kneel between your knees. “Breathe in with me. Can you do that?”

You nodded, eyes finally meeting his. He inhaled slowly and you followed, reaching your hand up to rest on his chest just above his heart. You couldn’t feel it beat but it comforted you, knowing he was there and you could feel him. 

A few more breaths in and out, and you were finally able to breathe. 

Regis brought his hand up to cup your jaw, brushing a few stray tears from your cheek. 

“Would you like me to go outside and look around? Just to give you peace of mind, perhaps?”

You bit your bottom lip, knowing deep down that it was so foolish to be afraid when one of the most powerful creatures on the Continent was with you.

“Please.” You nodded, sniffling.

“Let’s get you into bed, and then I will go.”

You stood up but Regis swept you off your feet, holding you close to him.

“Thank you, Regis.” You murmured.

“Anything for you, my love.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

You were placed down on your side of the bed and then Regis left. You pulled the blankets up over yourself and leaned back against the pillows. 

Anxiously, you waited for your vampire to return. It didn’t take him long to circle the house, ensuring there were no threats nearby. 

“There is a fox out in the garden, but nothing more.” He assured you, climbing into bed next to you. 

“Thank you.” You watched him get comfortable and then you scooted closer to him, tucking yourself into his side. 

His hand rested on the small of your back, tracing circles into your skin. 

“I-I’m sorry you had to see that.” You buried your nose in the side of his neck. “I didn’t want you to see me when that…. happens.” 

“Why?” Regis drew his brows together.

“Because it’s…. I can’t control it. It’s terrible. I just…. didn’t want to scare you away.”

He chuckled softly, kissing your head. 

“My love, I am a vampire. There is very, very little that could scare me. But I don’t believe there is a damned thing on the Continent that could scare me away from you. I love you far too greatly.”

“I love you.” You smiled a little, closing your eyes to try to get some sleep.

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If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[writers-craft]

The Pit of Love

story i wrote for my creative writing class, not gonna re-read it, just gonna post it here because why not

Judith French looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. She looked a mess. Her eyes were red and puffy, for she had been crying just moments prior, and her mascara was smeared down to her cheeks, but her hair still looked nice. A few strands were poking out here and there, and it was damp from the water, but her bun stayed intact, despite all that occurred. And crying only emphasized the blueness in her eyes. It was like looking into the ocean, Len always told her. Blood was leaking from her leg—the one that met with the glass—and the inside of her once blue dress was now stained with blood while the outside had darkened with mud. Her bare feet, one on top of the other, had specks of the lake’s bottoms stuck to them. Heavens, she looked a mess. Evelyn Johnson would surely have a mouthful to say if she saw Judith’s appearance, or maybe this would be the one thing to make her go silent. Keith once said the woman would die talking.

“Where are we going?” she asked the driver, but it was not the driver who looked at her. It was his passenger, the man with the gun, but he spoke no words.

It was a Tuesday, Judith French knew, when she realized she utterly despised her husband. Leonard French worked as a travelling salesman. And he enjoyed buying and selling so much, he did it during his free time too. He often came home to Stony Point with a completely different vehicle from the one he left with. Upon her crash, Judith French briefly wondered what his reaction might be when he learned his precious Volkswagen Sedan was currently sinking to the bottom of the lake. He wanted to sell it to Thomas Richfield, a neighbor two houses over.

Neither the driver nor his friend seemed eager to speak to her, so she opted to look out the window instead. They were going so fast it was difficult to see anything but the blur of the grass. It had gotten so long and green this past month, due to all the rain. She could see cows, too, which meant they were nearing Maxwell’s farm. Evelyn Johnson tried to convince everyone last Christmas that Rey Maxwell killed his wife, who coincidentally was also named Judith, but the people of Stony Point knew Judith Maxwell had been sick for years. It was her time.

Judith French looked to the man who sat between her and Keith and glanced down at his watch. Out of the three of them, the driver, the man with the gun, and the one beside her, the one beside her was the biggest and the nicest of them all. He had been the one who helped her out of the lake. He noticed she was looking at his watch and twisted his arm to give her a better view. His watch told her it was a quarter till six. Len would be expecting his dinner on the kitchen table, but his dinner was at the bottom of the lake with his precious Volkswagen.

She nodded her thanks to the man and went back to looking out the window. They were about to drive past the covered bridge. That awful covered bridge. It was red, or at least it had been before the paint had chipped off. It was mostly brown now, and really quite broken. Most of the wood had been broken apart, leaving gaps all around the bridge. The gaps had mostly been boarded up, though, except for the ones too high to fall from. The roof had gaps in it too, but Stony Point did not bother repairing the holes on the roof. Evelyn Johnson claimed her father was mugged as a boy, but it was during a time when Indians and bandits ran wild. She told Judith French the story the night they met, then several other times after, but assured her that the bridge was safe now.

The children at Stony Point High School called the pit beneath the bridge the Pit of Love. Teens would spend most weekends hanging out underneath it. Len said he and Patty Lesley kissed several times under the bridge senior year. Patty Lesley was now Patty Brown and she worked as a middle school teacher. He assured his wife they only kissed in the pit, and nothing more.

Three men had recently died in the Pit of Love. The first was a stranger. Like Len, he was a traveling salesman. It happened while it was raining, no one saw him.  They found his car a few miles from the bridge with its gas tank on empty and his keys still in the ignition with a few empty liquor bottles in the passenger’s seat. Keith said he must have lost his footing stumbling drunk and fell through one of the gaps. A young couple visiting the pit found him early the next morning.

It certainly was the topic of discussion for a while in Stony Point. Evelyn Johnson enjoyed talking about it, at least. She said the man committed suicide. She claimed his wife wanted to divorce him and he was so distraught he flung himself off the bridge. But people soon got bored of talking about the dead man. They moved on to the next craze, which was the high school’s undefeated football team.

And then Patrick Walter Mathews Jr., high school senior and football champ, was found dead at the bottom of the pit shortly after. She remembered the day exactly, because she and Keith were at a motel the afternoon the boy’s body was found. It was the day when she accidentally smeared lipstick on Keith’s jacket, and Harriett soon after insisted Keith eat lunch at home.

Keith again labeled the death as an unfortunate accident. The whole town followed the Mathews’ to town hall and demanded they repair the gaps in the bridge. And the next day Rey Maxwell and his boys hammred in thick pieces of wood over all the gaps, the ones they could reach. Evelyn Johnson, of course, praised Rey Maxwell’s actions, claiming she always knew he was a good man, and who would ever think such a man could murder his own wife?

Len had been away when all the chaos occurred, even with the salesman. He said he met the travelling salesman at a conference once. At parties he spoke of him as if it were his brother. Judith French knew his real brother died in Normandy in ’44. He raised his glass to the dead man, and everyone followed suit. For the young football star, he offered his condolences for the boy— “Kid had a damn good arm,” he said to Patrick Walter Mathews Sr.—and then Evelyn Johnson pulled out her bible and said a prayer for both man and boy. Everyone bowed their heads and listened to her prayer, except for Judith French. She looked out the window and watched a little blue car speed pass her home.

“Where are we going?” Judith French repeated her words when they drove over the bridge. They rumbled a bit as the tires hit the wooden bridge surface.

The driver, the boy, glanced briefly at her through the mirror. She saw all of them fully after she escaped the sinking Volkswagen and had made it onto dry land. They were all dressed in nice suits. The driver, the boy, was leaning against his vehicle, shiny, black and long—Len would be able to recognize the type, but Judith French did not bother memorizing vehicle like her husband. He was a boy of about seventeen and small for his age. The man who sat beside him now stood in front of him then like he was his guard. The boy whispered something to him and the man with the gun handed him a cigarette from his inside pocket and lit it for him. The man who was currently seated beside Judith French was beside her; he had helped her reach dry land after the crash.

No one said anything again. Keith attempted to, but the dirty handkerchief around his mouth prevented him from saying anything audible. She took a good look at him. He still had not buttoned his shirt since they last parted, half an hour ago. His white undershirt was now stained with his blood. He was sweaty too. He seemed to have a desperation in his eyes, and she wondered if she would die with him, but more importantly she wondered if she wanted to die with him.

She cleared her throat and turned back to the boy: “You’re quite popular here at Stony Point, you know,” she began. The boy did not look up, but she noticed his ears twitch. She heard Keith mumble something again. “You had us all believing those two men were to blame for their own deaths. I’m astonished, really. None of us ever thought anyone here at Stony Point could murdered.” Keith mumbled something again; she suspected he wanted her stop. “But, then there’s the third man in question. You got sloppy with him, didn’t you?”

The man in the passenger’s seat pulled out his gun and pointed it at her. Keith, at that point, was frantic. The man in between Judith French and Keith had to forcibly hold him down to prevent him from tackling the man with the gun. But the bullet in his stomach soon wore him out and he rested his head on the window and shut his eyes.

The boy chuckled and urged the man to lower his gun. “It’s refreshing to be around someone like you again,” said the boy. It was the first time she had heard him speak. His voice was deeper than she expected it to be, and a lot warmer.

“Someone like me?”

“You know, someone who tries to get to the bottom of things. Someone who cares. Someone good.”

She shook her head. “I’m… I’m not good.”

And he glanced up at her again, lingering a bit longer than last time. His eyes were blue, like hers, but his were lighter.

The third man was found dead in the Pit of Love three weeks ago with a bloodied bullet in his head. Like the salesman, a group of teens found him. She was with Keith when he got the call. Harriett and the boys were at her mothers and Len would not be back until that Tuesday, so they had the weekend to be together. He was not planning on working that night, but Judith urged him to take the call, in case it was Harriett.

She had a strange feeling that Harriett, or Len, would burst through the bedroom door at see them. Keith assured her they were safe, but the presence of Harriett or Len did not scare her; it thrilled her. She wanted them to see. She wanted to get caught.

Keith left quickly, and Judith French did not see him again until the following week. Harriett and the boys delayed their return a week, at Keith’s insistence, and Len arrived home the next day. Evelyn Johnson said there was a serial killer on the loose, and everyone believed her. The police blocked the Pit of Love with yellow tape and had a few officers on guard night and day.

No one knew who the third man was, like the salesman at the beginning. He had no identification on him, nor did his killer leave enough of his face to identify it with, but a woman one town over reported her husband missing shortly after the body was found. She identified the clothing on the corpse to be what she last saw her husband wearing.

The whole town was hysterical, including Len. He cancelled his next two business trips to stay and protect his helpless housewife. Harriett and the boys arrived again soon too. Keith said Harriett was growing suspicious. Judith French had mistakenly left her lipstick in one of her drawers. Keith tried to convince Harriett French it was her lipstick, but Harriet and Judith French did not wear the same colored lipstick.

She met Keith each time it was his shift at the Pit of Love. The officers with him would often give them space, turn their heads and pretend their superior was not with the local travel salesman’s wife. Most of the men on the force knew, but during dinner parties and other town functions, they would act oblivious. Judith French wondered if Keith kept their love affairs quiet, too; an unspoken rule between men and the women they betray their wives with. Judith always wondered if Evelyn Johnson was faithful to Rodger. Rodger Johnson went on business trips into Hughes every few months. Keith later told her that he went there to be with prostitutes. He got in trouble with the Hughes police once and Keith had to go bail him out.

She parked the Volkswagen out of sight, hidden behind bushes and a large ad for Chesterfield cigarettes and met Keith under the bridge. The pit was full of old cigarette butts and broken beer bottles, among other things. There was a sitting area made of old tires and boards of wood painted a faded red, most likely the wood from the bridge. Keith laid his jacket down on it to prevent splinters. And they were quiet, like always. The only sound was the occasional car driving over them. When Keith finished, Judith French fixed up her dress and smoothed out her hair, which was hardly disheveled. Then Keith kissed her goodbye and then she drove to the market.

She saw Mrs. Mathews there. Her hair was down, and she had no lipstick, but she seemed in pleasant spirits, despite everything. Judith French talked to her about her youngest, Carol, who would be singing at some recital later in the month, and her middle, Peter, her last boy, who was thinking about trying out for the high school baseball team. They talked as if her eldest had not been murdered a few months ago. And then Mrs. Mathews asked when she and Len were planning on starting their family, and she laughed and told her hopefully soon, like she always did.

It was on her way home when a sudden burst of emotion filled her, and she had to stop and pull over to collect herself. She sat, her forehead against the steering wheel, bawling her eyes out for no other reason than to get the emotion out. She let the tears fall freely, before drying her eyes and continuing her route home. She imagined Len probably listening to the radio or on the phone talking his way into a new sale, whether it be for business or for pleasure. She took a few deep breaths before continuing her drive home.

The boy’s vehicle appeared so quickly; she hardly saw it at first. She kept taking quick peaks at her rearview mirror, attempting to wipe away the smeared mascara. It was on the fourth or fifth wipe when she looked up and noticed the vehicle about to crash into her. She honked, then swerved quickly and drove into the lake. Her car door would not open, so she had to break the window glass with her heel and crawl out. She cut her leg on shuttered glass on her way out. The boy’s vehicle had stopped and reversed as she was climbing out, and the man in the back hurried to her before the vehicle had gone into a complete stop. She wondered if he was the one who persuaded the boy to stop, or if the boy had stopped on his own account.

She remembered yelling at the boy for his reckless driving. The man beside him grabbed his gun, but the boy stopped him from using it. She fell silent at the sight of it and dropped to her knees, her leg stinging as it collided with rocks and dirt, but she did not stay in that position for long. The man who helped her out of the lake, gently guided her back on her feet.

She caught sight of Keith, gagged and bloodied, as he walked her to the vehicle. Keith was leaning on the window, a bloodied handprint beside him, clutching the open wound on his stomach. For a moment she thought him dead until he turned his head to look at her. His eyes popped open and he tried to mutter something. The man with the gun, who had taken his seat in the passenger’s side by then, reached in the back to hit him. The force of the blow made Keith’s head it against the window hard.

The boy did not stop the car again until the sun, now an assortment of reds and yellows, was merging in with the mountains in the distance. They were in a field far away from Stony Point. No cars were in sight. Judith French watched as boy and his guard exited the vehicle and rummaged around the back trunk. They removed a few items, then the man with the gun opened the door on Keith’s side. Keith, too weak to sit up on his own, fell onto the man. The man kicked him away. The boy opened Judith’s side. He held a larger gun than the other man, but instead of pointing it at her, he held it to his side and offered her his hand. She took it.

There was chill in the air. She stepped onto grass that prickled the bottoms of her bare feet. The other man managed to lift Keith up off the ground. He stood as tall as he could, but the wound on his stomach forced him in a hunching position.

The boy let go of Judith French’s hand and lifted up his gun—Len showed her a similar gun in a photograph before they were married. He had called it a Tom gun, she thought. She felt strong hands on her shoulder and she turned to see the larger man holding her steady. The boy aimed the gun at Keith, and he shuffled a few inches backwards, then started mumbling something underneath his mask but he was quickly silence by the bullets passing through his head. He was now on the ground, no longer murmuring. She felt her heart sink as the boy shifted his focus onto her. The man holding her gently guided her next to Keith’s corpse. The boy again lifted his Tom gun.

“How did you kill the first two?” she asked.

The boy did not answer.

“Poison, wasn’t it? I’d use poison,” she said, “or something else to make it seem like an accident. But I think you’re like me.”

He lowered the Tom gun slightly and smiled. “How so?”

“You want to get caught,” she said.

[daredevile]

A Second Here Another Gone

Summary: Blinded by the sweet raptures of a new relationship, Bucky lowers his guard around you - unaware of the real reason you found him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, bit of violence and one swear word

A/N: Hey! I know it’s been over two months since I posted something and I’m sorry! I was working on so many oneshots and never finished one until now. But, I promise I will try to update somewhat regularly from now on! Anyway, this one’s for Ayesha’s [ @browngirlmagic ​] writing challenge and my prompt was ‘Echo’. Please reblog if you like it! :)

An angry crimson. A so-called scarlet elixir of the living trickles from its hearth beneath as if screaming a symbol of horror and impending doom. It surrenders with grace and elegance - a droplet of fresh blood tainting pristine white floors, smearing the Parthenon of life and death with an intensity of wrath and violence and -

"Hey." The sombre tone in his voice draws you into his weary stature. It looks worse than he'd assured over the phone. Raging clusters of purple and blue spread across his arms, broken lip, black eye, his jaw cast a scarlet tint. Not to mention the slight limp he'd tried masking from your stares.

"Thanks for coming so fast. Would've driven myself but..." He motions to the cast around his right arm, a light pink dusting over his cheeks. A nurse approaches him with a sympathetic expression, repeating a list of instructions and medication requirements for a quick recovery. Though you know Bucky's not following a word she's saying - she must've realised it too - giving you a moment for any questions before returning to her station.

The conversation in the car is non-existent, only a couple of instinctive glances towards the rear-view mirror to gauge each other's emotions. Soft tunes twirl in the background, Bucky lowers the volume with a grunt as his muscles sting with the movement. A sigh escapes from his lips, he angles himself towards your concentrated form but, you refuse to meet his gaze.

"Y'know it's not as bad as it looks. Should've seen the other guy." He says with a constrained laugh. An honest attempt to relieve the tensed wind and the crease between your eyebrows, alas, it fails its purpose. He sinks back into the cushioned seat, lingering his eyes over the neon streaks of passing vehicles.

The road seems never-ending, both sides merely converging at a distant imaginary point ahead. The traffic dissolves and scatters into several busy paths as Bucky directs you through far too many left and right turns before arriving at a rather calm and vacant neighbourhood.

Once the engines lull back into a soft purr, you open the passenger door and gently grasp his arms as he lifts himself from the seat. He releases a breath in relief, thankful your silence is replaced by concern. The two flights of stairs is another journey on its own, exchanging mumbles of apologies and groans, even the close proximity of him curves past your thoughts.

Bucky stumbles into his apartment, careful to avoid the loose floorboard right at the entrance - pushing a horrible reminder to the back of his mind - and you follow his footing. A chuckle from him pulls your attention, determined he's capable on his own, he leans away from your hold, mentioning something about taking a shower before retreating into the furthest room.

His house is spotless, every single object kept in a place for swift and efficient access. Somehow he'd made a rather confined area appear more spacious. You notice how foreign and hostile he maintained his home - a supposed personal bubble. His belongings danced around the hazy line between bare essentials and other items. Almost as if he was caught in the process of moving in or ready to move out within a matter of minutes.

A sharp buzz from your phone stops you from observing the rest of the apartment. Without sparing a glimpse at the caller, you swipe the green button. An instant thrust of shouting greets you, attacking your senses with great vigour. And it's patience, you've learned, an offensive strategy to appease the monster into a human you could better tolerate.

"I need time." It's not forceful, however, lacking a timbre of the usual intensity your words uphold. The shouting continues, each syllable seething with fury, demanding more answers while your fist clenches at the vulgar threats he hurls from the other end.

"I need more time."

There's dead silence on both ends. And for a second, you believe that he's accepted the command. As fast as it'd ignited, the little spark of surprise disintegrates when his deep laughter is all that's pounding in your ears.

"You're here!" Bucky says, grinning as he spots you in the balcony, "Thought you left me alone."

His sudden appearance turns your blood cold and you can feel the precise second your heart trips over a beat, shoving the phone back into your pocket. His smile drops, immediately regretting how he entered as soon as he saw the pained expression written all over your features. He sighs when your eyes witness the red wounds and scars - some more jarring than others - scattered across his body.

"Look, I know this isn't a good impression. I don't want you to see me like this, trust me, I wouldn't have called if I had - " A pause. Hesitant as he swallows back the words. "Anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Bucky. This is all just... difficult." He nods, fumbling with the loose bandage tied to his other arm. A smile tugs on your lips at his frustration, you grab the free end and wrap it securely around the wound.

"Could you maybe stay? I mean... if you want to." He struggles to suppress a grin when you look up at his eyes. It's hope that lingers behind them.

"Of course."

But the side where you slept is cold and empty when he wakes up.

---

O N E  W E E K  E A R L I E R

The restaurant was crowded, located right at the heart of the city, overlooking several busy streets that seemed to sink under all the hustle and bustle. The world appeared an innocent umber through the dark hue of your sunglasses, shielding yourself from unwanted enemies. Or so you thought.

Time. Time was precious and no amount of glancing at your watch appeared to have quickened the circular orbit of the dials. But this time, you were unsure - caught between the dichotomous chasm of want and need - a feeling that unsettled you to the core.

"Hope you don't mind, darling." A deep voice came from behind, the drinks spilt over the glasses as he slammed his hand on the table. The elderly couple sitting to your left flinched at his abrupt action. A fake smile was enough to have satisfied them, he returned to face your blank expression.

"So tell me, does it usually take this long or are you fucking him?" It was almost a growl that promptly simmered to a smirk when a waitress passed by, unaware of the evil she'd encountered.

"He'll figure it out, I'm being careful." You said, oblivious to the scorching hot liquid piercing your taste buds. Any shard of fun and pleasure that had emerged from his features earlier crumbled at that very second, he leaned closer and you saw the strain on his face when his jaw clenched. Rumlow was not one to adjust and compensate. You learned that the hard way.

"Listen l/n, I saved you from Volkov 'cause you'd be useful someday. And now you owe me. Gave you a week to do the job, it's been two and I still got nothing. And you know I don't like waiting. Get me the information and finish him or should I remind you what's at stake here."

His voice was dangerously low as if cautious of people overhearing but, you knew it would take mere seconds for the scene to resemble a massacre. Yet, he was right. Your past record highlighted the speed and efficiency of completing assignments - just one hit then delivered to the client and you walked away richer. No hesitation. Unfortunately, this time it was Bucky who had a price on his head and had obtained confidential information.

A folder was thrown at your direction, containing photographs of innocents at different viewpoints through what was unmistakably sniper scopes. Rumlow mimicked the sound of a gun cocking before standing up. He bent down to whisper in your ear, laughing while he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and walked into the sea of people. His last words were all that you breathed.

Barnes or your family.

---

Bucky sidesteps the soldier-like stance of a grumpy looking man, clearing his throat to alleviate the embarrassment of breaking under his penetrating stare. He didn't know what the guy's problem was, Bucky ignores the annoyed tsk that's clearly targetted at him. On any other occasion, a meaningless interaction with strangers would've flown over his head. But, today he's confused. Scared, even.

Less than two weeks ago, he'd encountered and been drawn to an enigma. Strong yet intricately pieced together. Delicate yet resilient. He just couldn't figure it out. After all, he thought everything became normal once he'd spoken and apologised last night. Expecting to be woken up by sunshine and ruffled sheets from a good sleep and you sleeping soundly, but you were gone without a word - and he just doesn't understand.

And now, here he is, shuffling through busy routes to follow a briskly walking figure who's intrigued him for half an hour. They seem to have no destination, simply taking sharp turns and descending into valleys of crowds and streetside markets. In a hurry, Bucky thinks. He picks up his pace, there seem to be fewer people in this area. It's darker and easily hidden between the lanes of houses.

He turns the corner and realises there are no other paths. A dead-end. The figure spins around, eyes flitting around the narrow path. He panics and begins to retreat, but the all-too-familiar cock of the gun stills his movements. Nothing. No moment in his entire life scared him more than the person standing a few steps away -

It's you.

He freezes when your finger curls around the trigger and the innocence in your eyes dissolve. Every single instinct in his body is telling him to run. But he can't. He wants to know more, to know why. And he realises you're thinking the same when your hand begins to tremble.

"Whose orders?"

It's a tone he's never heard before. Cold and detached. A machine programmed to do one's bidding with no second thoughts. He raises both hands, swallowing the agonising feeling latching onto his throat as your grip tightens.

"Don't lie to me, Barnes. Who ordered you to kill me?"

There's no choice. His heart is clawing the insides of his chest, waiting to be free. A whisper is all it takes to conquer your feelings.

"Volkov."

Bucky knows the moment his name is released into the strangling air between you, the gun falters. He sees the rapid and minute shift of your eyes, composing all the information together until -

Your voice staggers, pleading almost. "They have my family, Bucky. He'll kill them if you don't tell me where Volkov is. Rumlow - "

Bucky stops listening. Rumlow, a name he'd left behind, buried within the depths of conscience along with Hydra. He understands your assignment, a simple extract and kill. What Volkov had promised in exchange for your life - Steve's whereabouts - seemed too good to be true, maybe a possible reality in a utopian world. But, this is his life and it's not paradise. He takes a few steps until his hands hover over your gun, angling it towards his heart.

"Then save them."

He whispers the location and you try to zone out, lose control so you don't hear his words. It's too late, two snipers emerge from buildings on command, both taking positions on either side of where you're standing. The chill that runs down Bucky's spine doesn't go unnoticed as he spots the red skull badge on their sleeves. Rumlow knew you wouldn't kill him.

Bucky nudges your chin with the tips of his fingers, reaching into his jacket, he slips his gun into your hands. No words are spoken but you know what has to be done.

Taking a much-needed breath, you pull the trigger at him, not witnessing the wine coloured liquid spreading across his chest instead, taking cover before shooting one of the snipers lurking near a thin pillar. The other one begins firing near the car you are ducking behind. You sprint into his blind spot and kill him with a shot to his head.

Without wasting another second, you spot Bucky clutching his chest in pain. It takes a frozen second for you to dial 911, shaking with dread before Rumlow sends any more of his men and the chances of Bucky surviving vanish. A concerned voice replies to your incohesive string of words, you're barely making sense, the nurse ends the call ensuring 'they're on the way'. Bucky grabs your hand amongst the turmoil, light-headed and pale from the blood seeping through his clothes.

"This isn't goodbye."

And you run.

---

E I G H T  M O N T H S  L A T E R

Even after weeks of desperately searching for him, he was nowhere to be found. You'd gone back to the hospital, the nurse gave you a distressed glance, saying he hadn't mentioned anywhere in particular. That he was gone once discharged.

You didn't give up though - he'd sacrificed himself for your family in a sheer heartbeat. Bucky was the wind to your storm - a second here another gone. He was mysterious beneath the layers of kindness and affection, tender yet deep like the lyrics of a love song - words you've yet to discover, only hoping you weren't wrong.

A few of your old confidantes were able to carry out under-the-ground operations in exchange for Bucky's location: Edinburgh.

Under the chilly winter winds, you walk along the snow-freckled pavement. Sitting at a dark wooden bench inspecting calming patterns of skate lines etched across the river's icy surface, puffs of crisp air revealing themselves as you sigh.

"I was right."

His voice beckons a long-awaited smile on your face. Sharp blue eyes gazing at a few younger skaters wobbling while they glide along. You begin to stammer out an apology, but he shakes his head, still not meeting your eyes.

"You had no choice."

"Did you find him?" You ask eagerly as he takes a seat next to you.

"Pulled a few strings with some old contacts." Bucky turns to face you, a genuine smile he hadn't felt in ages tugs his lips. He takes your gloved hand in his, entangling his fingers with yours with a dazed look washing over his features.

"He's here."

[overlordofawesomeness]

A Man for Himself (Norton xEli)

Genre: Romance, Thriller, Horror, Fantasy

Rating: R-18

Pairing: Norton x Eli | Prospector X Seer

Chapter Trigger Warning/s: N/A

Chapter 3

Darkness. Norton opened his eyes only to witness himself surrounded by darkness. The candle on his helmet barely provided light. It didn't do much of a help. However, upon examining his surroundings, he's able to identify his current location. He's inside a tunnel. And it wasn't an ordinary tunnel. This was the site where the tragedy had taken place.

His chest tightened. Suddenly, Norton felt claustrophobic. He's aware that this was merely a dream, but everything seemed real to him. He could feel the rough floor underneath his boots, the way it ground against his sole as he walked. The air felt damp and smelled like mud, like he was inside an unstable man-made cave that could collapse any second due to heavy rain. They were all too familiar sensations to him.

The tunnel seemed to go on endlessly whichever way he went. He tried to keep himself calm despite having a hard time breathing. Panicking would only burn whatever remaining oxygen he had around him. But then again, this was supposedly a dream. Dreams couldn't hurt him.

After a while of walking, the miner began to pick up his pace until he found himself running at full speed as if something sinister was after him. He dared not look back, afraid to confirm his imagination and be devoured by his fear. Running felt like an eternity to him until he tripped over a rock and fell. Or at least that's what he thought it was. He was out of breath, so he could only manage a soundless gasp when he realized that he'd fallen on a pile of decomposing bodies, their foul smell making it harder for him to breathe. Those were the corpses of the miners.

Norton picked himself up, but he slipped and fell as soon as he got up. He staggered back in panic, a scream he never imagined he'd ever make escaping his throat and echoing throughout the lonely tunnel. As he was trying to process everything, the burn scars on his face and body began to hurt as though they were fresh.

"You belong with us, Norton," said a voice in his head, sounding like it came from the abyss. "You should've died with us."

The miner began shaking, his hands gripping his head as if the action would get rid of the voice all the while kicking at the undead corpses that were starting to crawl towards him.

"No! Leave me alone!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to push the bodies off of him. "It was an accident!"

Yes, it's all an accident.

A corpse that had gaping sockets for its eyes managed to get on top of him and sit on his chest, squeezing the remaining air out of his lungs. In its bony hands was a large chunk of stone. It raised the stone in the air and was about to smash it onto his head when he managed to pull himself back to reality and wake up with a strangled scream.

Norton was drenched in sweat, his hair disheveled and his eyes wide in shock. The dream was over, yet his heart still beat so fast that it almost wanted to escape his ribs. Taking a few deep breaths, he ran his hands over his face and looked to the window. The light shone through its heavy white curtains, illuminating the entirety of the room. Somehow it gave him a sense of safety and security. It's good even though it's false.

"Had an eventful night, eh?"

Norton searched for the source of the voice and spotted the same gray-haired male from last night sitting in his bed across from his. He wouldn't have noticed his roommate's presence if he hadn't said anything.

"Who are you again?" the prospector inquired, blinking away his sleepiness.

"Your resident embalmer," the other responded as he secured his gloves. He seemed to be getting ready to leave. "Your teammates for today came over. They said they wanted to eat breakfast with you before the match," he continued. "I'm Aesop, by the way. I prefer working in peace, so I hope you won't be making noises in your sleep again." He stood up and picked up a case from his bedside table. "Norton, right? Stop living in the past. You're attracting Death. Don't make the same mistakes again."

He never left any room for Norton to respond. He walked out as soon as he finished his quick introduction. Norton figured his roommate wasn't a fan of social interaction. Not like it mattered.

Still groggy from his nightmare, the miner didn't want to waste time overanalyzing Aesop's ominous words. He stood up and took a towel from his drawer. A shower would help on clearing his head.

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Campbell!"

Norton wasn't expecting himself to be invited to a morning tea party when he was told to meet his teammates. There was a stone pavement outside the manor house that led to a large pavilion. A few tables were set up and one of them was occupied by three women wearing fancy clothing. He felt a little underdressed with his dark green button-down and trousers.

The one who greeted him was a brunette wearing a blue hat, a frilly white blouse and a billowy skirt that was just as frilly. Her green eyes shone bright with her cheery smile. Her spirit seemed too high for someone who would be participating in a deadly game.

"Take a seat, please," she invited, standing up from her seat and pulling an empty chair for him, which he found surprising.

So polite. He gladly took the seat and smiled at the expecting faces.

"I'm Emma." She offered her hand and sat down. "And these are Helena and Martha. We'll be your teammates for today."

Norton shook the brunette's hand and scanned the faces of the two other women. One of them was a redhead, wearing a pink hat that resembled a cake with wafer sticks on top of it. Her dress was of the same shade with a mix of pastel green and had frills and ribbons. Overall, Norton had to admit that she's adorable and eye-catching especially when she tried pouring tea into empty air next to a cup in front of her. Hot water was about to spill from the pot when the woman next to her guided her hand in the right direction.

Helena giggled softly. "Oops. Sorry."

Norton didn't notice it earlier; but upon closer look, the girl appeared to have glassy eyes behind her round glasses. She's blind, and the stick that resembled a long lollipop resting against her chair was her cane.

How could a blind person join this game? How could she even decode those machines?

As if sensing his doubt, Emma scooted over and whispered, "Don't worry. Her blindness does not stop her from being an outstanding decoder. She's fast. But, of course, we need to protect her. And that's why we have Martha."

The miner turned his attention to Martha, a well-built woman with a curly side ponytail. Her hair seemed to have been dyed blue to match her clothes. She's wearing a white blouse with frills and a long white pencil skirt with blue stripes. Unlike the two girls, Martha had an air to her that made her different. Perhaps it's the pistol that sat next to her teacup. She seemed to radiate an aura of power and authority. A leader.

Still, Norton wondered why they were all dressed up for a party and why he wasn't given any notice.

"I'll do my best to keep everyone alive." Martha smiled in Helena's way, but the ginger wasn't aware of it. "Especially Helena. We can't lose her, so I'm counting on you to protect her." She faced Norton. "And you. I've heard that you've done a great job on your first match. Don't let us down."

Norton nodded and took a bagel from a woven basket at the center of the table. "I'm not promising anything, but I'll do my best."

He would never promise anything.

Eventually, he started to relax in his seat, enjoying the taste of pastry and sweetened tea. He might as well take his sweet time since he might not be able to get the chance to do it anymore after this.

"Good morning, Mr. Clark! Good morning, Mr. Subedar!" Emma stood up from her seat and waved her hands wildly in the air.

Norton's eyes followed the direction where the cheery girl was looking and found Eli and his grumpy buddy walking their way to the pavilion. Like the girls, they seemed to have received the notice to dress in eye-catching clothing.

Eli was wearing a gold-trimmed robe in a lighter shade of blue. It had patterns that resembled constellations. As if to complement him, Subedar was wearing formal clothes of the same shade. A suit with a hood and ruffles. On top of that, his hair seemed to have been dyed blue as well to match them.

"Aren't they just perfect?" Emma sighed dreamily, her eyes glued to the two men. "I had a chance to be on the same team with them before. They're amazing."

Eli waved back and smiled in their direction momentarily before turning his attention back to Naib. They were headed to a vacant table. Naib didn't seem to like when Norton looked at them as he shot daggers his way and moved to block the view of his partner.

"Hey, Emma." Norton took a sip from his cup. "Who's that guy with Eli?"

He'd already heard about Naib from Eli, but he didn't really know much about him except for the fact that he obviously didn't like Norton.

"That's Mr. Subedar," Emma answered. "He used to be a mercenary from what I've heard. He doesn't really interact with anyone that much except with Mr. Clark. They're always together; so if you want to know more about Mr. Subedar, you may need to ask Mr. Clark himself."

"I see." Norton nodded slowly.

Is he seeing me as a threat to their bond? Now that makes things more interesting.

Two more people joined the two men: William and a woman sitting on his shoulders. She was wearing a headdress that resembled the horns of a goat.

"Is that Fiona?" Norton asked, remembering the name from a conversation he'd heard from the previous night.

Emma nodded. "Ah, yes. Ms. Fiona Gilman."

"She's pretty," the miner commented, studying the woman's features.

Fiona had her red hair tied in a single side braid. She's wearing a purple hood over a black dress that had slits on either side that were too high Norton wondered if she was wearing any underwear. William had to be a saint to be able to endure that.

"Yes, she is," Emma agreed. "Makes us wonder why Mr. Clark still hasn't asked her out yet. We've been rooting for them since both of them get along really well when it comes to mysticism. You should see them when they talk about their gods. It's like we don't exist to them. But it seems like they're not interested in each other. After all, Mr. Subedar is always keeping Mr. Clark to himself."

"I think I understand why," Norton muttered under his breath. "It's not easy to find someone like Eli."

Eli was a gem. And Norton hated that fact.

* * *

Two cipher machines left. The last time Norton encountered someone from his team was when he saw Emma dismantling a rocket chair near a carousel. After that, he never saw any one of them again.

They were at an abandoned theme park. It's a large walled area that was divided in half by a river. Communication was impossible. He only knew that there were only two machines left since he heard multiple popping sounds. As to who the hunter was or where it was, he had no idea.

Inside a large tent, which he assumed to be previously called Circus Hullabaloo because of the sign outside, he was halfway on finishing a machine when tapping sounds caught his attention. He looked up to see that it was Helena limping towards him. Her pastel pink stockings were soaked with blood. There was a clean cut on one of her legs that seemed to have been made by a sharp blade.

"Help," she gasped, catching her breath.

Behind her was a large creature that resembled a large mechanical spider. Its large body was covered with a filthy rag. There were movements from underneath the cloth which made Norton's hair stand on end. Its legs were a combination of ball-jointed doll hands and large metal blades. What made it more hideous was the head that had a face of a marionette doll. It was terrifying.

Norton stepped out of the way when Helena reached her arms out to him. For a moment, he didn't say anything as if he's trying to conceal his presence from the blind girl. He was determined to abandon her; but in the end, he decided to grab her and lift her in his arms. He could've easily left her there, but it would be too cruel to leave a helpless blind girl in danger. He wasn't that remorseless.

One cipher machine popped. One more left. He had a bleeding girl in his arms, and they were both running for their lives.

>

[star-doll-universe]

Michelle Goes to Komugi Island

Whoa, sorry it took so long to get this next part out. I moved to a new city and started a new job, also this turned out way longer than I intended. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and there’s probably going to be one more part after this one. 

I hope you enjoy @one-piece-dumpster-fire ^-^

Part 1    Part 2

With a heavy sigh, Michelle collapsed into the softest armchair in the main study of her and Cracker’s mansion. It gave a knowing chuckle at her obvious fatigue as she snuggled into its plush cushions. Everything seemed to ache, not just her bad leg this time. Who knew planning a wedding would be so exhausting?

Michelle supposed she should have expected this. Between her fiancé and future mother-in-law, deciding on any aspect of the wedding was always a difficult task. After all, they both had such large personalities that were hardly ever agreeable. The only part of her marriage ceremony that Michelle really had any strong opinion on was her dress, and both Big Mom and Cracker had drastically different ideas on what she should wear. Cracker wanted something sleek and sexy while Big Mom wanted a full princess ballgown with lots of details and decorations. She basically wanted her future daughter-in-law to look almost as elaborate as the wedding cake! For her part, Michelle did want to wear something worthy of the event but still with a quiet elegance that would prevent her from looking too over the top. That would undoubtedly not be up to Big Mom’s standards (or sexy enough, as far as Cracker was concerned).

The young woman really did dread the eventual dress shopping she would be doing with Cracker’s full sisters Custard and Angel, knowing full well they would have opinions of their own.

“Hiya, Michelle! Long time no see.” A familiar voice jerked her from her musings, and Michelle glanced up to see the small orange form of Charlotte Spice hovering just outside the study window. She was drifting in midair with her legs crossed and her arms tucked behind her head as though she was lounging on a chair of her own.

Upon seeing her, Michelle hastily sat up. “Oh! Spice, hello! How are you? It has been a while.”

The other woman giggled at her hurried response. “I’m doing well, but you look a little beat. Is wedding planning tiring you out?”

Michelle gave a slightly embarassed smile. “Yeah…I guess I should have expected it to be this taxing, but I hadn’t really considered it.”

“I hear you. I’ve seen my fair share of weddings in my time.” Spice replied as she straightened up and drifted closer to the windowsill. “Anyways, that’s why I’m here. I figured you could use a day off for a bit of R&R!”

Michelle’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?!”

“I was thinking you and I could have a bit of a girl’s day! There’s a new spa that just opened up on one of the islands that I wanted to try, and I figured it would be a great opportunity for you to get some time to relax.”

A spa? Michelle hadn’t been to one of those in a while. It honestly sounded really good right now.

“Alright. That sounds like a great idea,” she eventually agreed. “Are we leaving now?”

“You catch on quick!” Spice held out her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Michelle took it and allowed the other woman to pull her through the window and hold her against her chest, supporting them both while hovering in midair.

After giving her a moment to catch her bearings, Spice took off flying over the streets of Biscuit Island without another word.

Despite Spice’s firm grip, Michelle still clung to her like a lifeline, trying desperately to look anywhere but down. “So where is this new spa, you mentioned?” she shouted over the wind their speed was creating, hoping to distract herself from the great distance between her and the ground.

“It’s on Komugi Island!” Spice replied with a grin, “You know, my older brother Katakuri’s island.”

“Oh yes!” Michelle had a vague idea of what the island was like, although she hadn’t yet visited it.

“That reminds me…” Spice slowed down slightly, which got the other young woman’s attention, “Is it alright with you if I invite another person along for our girl’s day?”

“Oh! Uh…I suppose so. Who is it?”

Spice’s momentary hesitation melted away. “I was going to invite Sakura, Katakuri’s wife! I figured it was a good idea since you guys haven’t met yet. Don’t worry, she’s super nice and honestly like the best person to have a girl’s day out with. I bet you two are going to get along great!”

Michelle couldn’t help but laugh at Spice’s constant enthusiasm. “I certainly hope so.” She did vaguely remember it being mentioned that Katakuri was married, but she didn’t know anything about his wife, or him for that matter. It seemed like Spice’s older brother was a very private person.

“You said Katakuri’s wife was named Sakura, right?” she asked Spice. “What’s she like?”

“She’s very friendly, honestly more so than you might expect,” the other woman replied. “And she’s a whizz in the kitchen! She makes the absolute best pumpkin donuts you’ve ever tasted in your life!” Spice licked her lips at the thought, “I hope she has a fresh batch waiting for us when we get there.”

At that point, they’d reached the harbor where Spice’s boat the Peter Midnight was docked waiting for them. Spice quickly alighted on the deck and finally set Michelle down.

She wobbled a bit on the gently rocking boat, trying to find her footing again. As Michelle looked on, Spice’s body started to glow faintly with a golden light. A moment later, a series of fuzzy flashes sprouted out from her body, separating from her form and taking the shape of exact duplicates of Spice herself. The soul projections then quickly darted around the ship, getting everything ready to cast off.

Michelle wasn’t nearly as freaked out as she’d been the first time she’d seen Spice use this ability, and while the other woman went about getting everything organized, she went over to the bow where the flaming pumpkin figurehead was chuckling to itself and settled in for the journey ahead. She couldn’t help but wonder what the day would bring.

                                                      ~~~

Komugi Island wasn’t quite as flashy as Candy Island had been, but it was still very impressive. The sheer size of the place was a little overwhelming for Michelle. It was said to be one of the larger islands of the Tottoland Archipelago as well as one of the most densely populated.

The young woman quickly followed Spice through the crowded streets of Hakuriki Town, the island’s capitol city. Just like on Candy Island, many of the passerby stopped to address the Sweet Commander with a kind of reverence, bowing deeply or shouting their praises.

Although, many of the civilians seem to recognize Michelle as well. Several pointed and whispered to one another behind their hands. A few offered her warm smiles and friendly waves. It would seem like more and more of Tottoland’s population was recognizing her as a member of the Charlotte Family, a position that demanded respect.

At one point, an overweight, well-dressed man took off his top hat and gave Michelle a lofty bow. She could only offer a nervous smile in return.  

Eventually, Spice managed to lead her away from the downtown district and towards the city’s perimeter. Michelle was rather surprised to find that Katakuri and his wife didn’t live in the epicenter of their ruling island’s capitol. Rather, their massive estate was located a short distance outside of the city, on top of a wooded hill.

Surrounding the massive house, there were dozens of trees, which sang and swayed lazily in the wind, surrounding the large magenta building and providing plenty of privacy. Spice alighted on the grass amongst the small forest, setting Michelle down beside her (her leg had started to act up again while still downtown, so Spice had flown them the rest of the way).

As soon as they appeared in the garden, the trees all started shaking their branches in anxious curiosity while whispering amongst themselves almost as much as the people in downtown.

“You good?” Spice asked when Michelle paused, rubbing her sore hip.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She gave the other woman an apologetic smile. “I think this day was long overdue.”

“I’ll say!” Spice agreed, chipper as ever as she skipped ahead. “Sorry to make you walk so much. Are you better now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” Michelle followed along at a bit slower pace as they approached the gigantic gold and white front door to the mansion. She stared up at the building in awe, her mouth hanging open in spite of herself, as she took in the massive structure. It looked more like a museum than a house! Then again, she supposed it made sense: Katakuri was even taller than Cracker and Persopero, so he would require a larger space.

As Michelle pondered this, Spice jumped up and rapped her knuckles smartly on the door. “Hello~! Anyone home?!” There came no response. She then grasped one of the large golden knockers and tried again, this time producing a near thunderous sound that seemed to echo throughout the mansion’s many rooms and hallways. However, still no one came to the door.

“Maybe you should try the doorbell?” Michelle offered.

“No way. It bites.” Spice pointed to the indicated object mounted beside the door. The little button had a small snarling face and it hissed at Spice and Michelle.

“I guess Katakuri’s out, but I wonder where the servants are.” Spice glanced around, “Well, he doesn’t keep many staff on anyways.” She shrugged, “Come on, we can just go in the back door.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” Michelle asked as Spice hopped off the porch and started making her way around the house.

“Of course! Katakuri doesn’t mind, and I’m sure Sakura left it open.” Spice replied simply. Michelle could hardly argue so she followed as close behind as she could.

It took a few minutes from them to make their way around to the back of the house; however, it wasn’t long before a rich delicious smell wafted through the air towards them.

Spice paused, inhaling deeply. “I was right! Sakura is making her pumpkin donuts!”

“Those smell heavenly,” Michelle exclaimed, feeling her mouth start to water.

“I told you! Sakura makes the best donuts in all of Tottoland. She even puts Streusen to shame. Katakuri swears by it, and he’s something of an expert on the subject.” Spice grinned before taking Michelle’s hand and pulling her to the rest of the way to the back door.

It was indeed propped open with a large stone doorstop that was chanting “Hold the door! Hold the door!” over and over as they passed. Spice wasted no time with stepping over the threshold into the kitchen, and Michelle was pulled along as well.

It was immediately apparent that the kitchen was the most important room in the house, and Michelle was shocked to find that it was even bigger and fancier than the one she had worked with alongside Giuseppe in Cracker’s mansion. The room was long like a bowling alley, and counters and stoves lined either side with dozens of cabinets mounted on the walls above them. Everything was painted in rich browns and cream colors and there were two long tables in the center of the room. Against the back wall, there was a gigantic oven the size of a fireplace that was currently pumping a dense heat into the room as it baked whatever the source of that spicy autumnal aroma was. It was also immediately clear to Michelle that the kitchen was a mess. The countertops and tables were covered in flour and some of what looked to be the purest, brightest sugar she’d ever seen. It almost seemed to sparkle like crystal. There were dozens of mixing bowls filled with the remnants of batter and frosting stacked on the countertops and piled up in the sink along with seemingly hundreds of dirty utensils. Streaks of chocolate and caramel sauce along with small piles of multi-colored sprinkles covered the floors and there was even a splattering of some sticky syrup staining the ceiling as well as a cooking spoon dangling haphazardly from the center of the stain.

Michelle gawked at the scene. Giuseppe would have a fit if he saw the state of this place.

Her attention was soon drawn to the sound of a person rummaging in one of the cabinets on the other side of the kitchen. Her eyes followed the noise and soon spied a large figure crouched down with the open door mostly blocking them from her view as they shuffled through the contents of the cabinet.

“Sakura! Hey!” Spice called, finally letting go of Michelle’s hand and rushing towards the other person, waving her arms.  

At her words, the figure straightened up to her full height. The kitchen suddenly felt a little smaller as Michelle took in the woman before her. She was well over twelve feet tall with a broad, full chest, muscular arms and thick thighs and hips. She had a pretty, yet stern face framed by wavy emerald green hair and accented by sharp, yellow eyes. Although, her most imposing feature was the pair of large white, bull-like horns that were growing out of the top of her head. However, as Michelle looked at her longer, she realized that her somewhat frightening form was shrouded in a rather contrasting color palette: she was clothed from head to toe in different shades of pink: including an intricate bubblegum pink kimono dress with an adorning sash and a paler pink apron covered in more flour and stains. She was also wearing large cherry blossom earrings with matching necklace and rings. Her makeup was intricate and just as “girly” with sparkling eyeshadow and richly colored lips.

The massive woman looked down at the other two, wiping a bit of sugar off her cheek before her eyes instantly lit up. “Spice! Hello!” she exclaimed, speaking with a heavy accent Michelle couldn’t place.

“It’s so good to see you!” Spice laughed as she rushed forward and jumped into the larger woman’s open arms, hugging her around the waist. “It’s been too long.”

“It sure has,” the woman, whom Michelle concluded must be Katakuri’s wife, then glanced back up at her. “This is Cracker’s fiancée then?”

“Yep, this is Michelle,” Spice gestured back to her. “Come on over and say hello.”

“Yeah, I don’t bite,” Katakuri’s wife added, although she bared her rather sharp teeth as she spoke.

With a small amount of caution, Michelle made her way over as the woman bent down to shake her hand. “Charlotte Sakura, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” the smaller woman replied as Sakura shook her whole arm rather than just her hand. As she did so, Michelle noticed that Sakura’s nails were long and sharpened like claws but also painted pastel pink.

At that moment, a loud clatter reverberated across the kitchen, and the three women all turned to see several kitchen item Homies were jumping out of another cabinet and a few of them had knocked some of the baking pans off the table.

Sakura gave a shout and ran over to the mess, waving her arms and yelling at the Homies in an unknown language. Spice laughed as she fretted over the mess, finally shooing the Homies out of the kitchen with a broom.

“Still not used to the Homies, huh?” Spice giggled.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to them.” Sakura spat, “Pesky little yokai.”

“It took me a bit of time to get used to them too,” Michelle admitted.

“Little shits need to stay out of my room,” Sakura grumbled under her breath as she made her way back over to the massive oven. As if on cue, the machine dinged almost as soon as she reached it.

“Yay! Donuts are done!” Spice exclaimed.

Sakura laughed at her sister-in-law’s enthusiasm as she opened the oven door and pulled out a baking pan laden with warm orange-brown donuts. The spicey pumpkin scent filled the room to the brim, and Michelle thought it was absolutely heavenly.

“I’m so excited!” Spice was hovering a few inches off the ground, unable to contain her eagerness.

“Don’t forget they’re very hot,” Sakura reminded her. Despite this statement, she proceeded to pluck the donuts out of their holders with her bare hands and place them on a cooling tray.

“I can cool them down!” Spice offered, bounding over and hovering above the donuts. She sucked in a sharp breath before blowing on the freshly baked sweet. From her mouth came a sudden gust of icy wind that sent chills down Michelle’s spine. The steam from them started to fade almost instantly, and Spice quickly patted one to see if it was still too hot to eat. “That better?”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Impatient as ever.” Michelle then watched, rather startled, as Sakura raised her hand and waved it over the donuts. As she did so, white powder seemed to pour out from her hand like snow comes from a winter cloud and alight on the donuts in a pleasing glaze.

“Whoa…” she whispered.

“I know right,” Spice gave her a knowing smile. “Sakura ate the Sugar-Sugar Fruit. How fitting is that?!”

“It’s what makes my donuts so special,” Sakura agreed with a proud smile, placing one of the aforementioned sweets on a plate and handing it to Michelle. As she turned away, Spice grabbed two more. “Do you want one?”

“Yes, please.” Michelle quickly accepted the offered pastry and took a bite. The flavor that washed over her tongue was heavenly. It was rich and warm and strangely nostalgic in taste, reminding Michelle of cool fall evenings beside a crackling fire. It was near indescribable, there was something distinctive about it that set it apart from most other sweets she’d had in the past.

“Well?” Sakura eagerly asked.

“It’s delicious,” Michelle exclaimed, “I’ve never had anything like it!”

“I’m glad you like them,” Sakura replied, dusting her hands on her apron. “My husband can’t get enough of them.”

“Where is Katakuri?” Spice asked through a mouthful of her third donut.

“Out.” Sakura shrugged. “You know how he is.”

“Speaking of which,” Spice stuffed one more donut in her pocket before turning to the other two, “Shall we get going?”

“Of course! I wanted to try out this new spa for ages!” Sakura exclaimed, quickly hanging up her apron and washing off any lingering sugar or other ingredients from her face and hands. “I need to get my nails done anyways. My cuticles are a mess.”

Michelle couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of this big, scary woman complaining about her nails. She was then rather shocked to see Sakura go into a closet by the door and pull out two massive swords that were each nearly twice as tall as she was. One of them had a gold hilt with spikes jutting out on all sides of the guard and the other had a white sheath and a silver, crescent-shaped guard.

“You’re taking your swords?” Spice inquired, hovering in the air.

“Of course! I never leave home without them.” Sakura replied as she then attached the silver sword to her hip and slung the gold sword over her shoulder. “Alright, let’s be off!”

                                                    ~~~

It was very easy for Michelle to see why Spice and Sakura got along so well. They were both chatterboxes. It didn’t take them long to fall into a face paced conversation, walking side by side as they jabbered away. Or rather, Spice was floating in the air at the level of Sakura’s elbow in order to lessen the absurd height difference a little bit. For her part, Michelle couldn’t help but trail behind, huffing and puffing as she tried to keep up with the speed not only of their walk but also their words.

Spice was enthusiastically describing an incident that occurred in Sweet City, the capitol of Whole Cake Island and in fact all of Tottoland, where a great vat of molasses had exploded and flooded the whole city.

“It made an awful mess and mother was furious, but the citizens had a lot of fun swimming in it,” Spice explained cheerfully as though a gigantic tidal wave of sticky, oozing molasses flooding most of a major city was really no big deal at all.

As far as Sakura was concerned, she bounced off of Spice’s rambling remarks rather effortlessly, although it was already apparent that the “common tongue” was not her first language. She would occasionally slip in and out of the language she’d spoken before in the kitchen, one Michelle neither understood nor recognized, and make exclamations in this strange tongue.

She really did want to ask her about it, but Michelle was having a hard time keeping pace as it was. She was already really out of breath.

“H-Hey!” she called up to Sakura, trying her best to race walk behind her to keep up with her long strides. Sakura and Spice both looked back down at her call. “Y-Your accent, I don’t recognize it. Where are you from?”

Sakura gave her a curious look. “Hey, do you need to take a minute?’

“Huh?” Michelle panted, feeling her face go hot both with exertion and embarrassment. “N-No, I’m fine.”

“Nonsense,” Spice asserted, floating over to her, “Sorry about this, Michelle! I should have had Sakura give you a lift from the start.”

“Th-That’s okay.” Michelle started to protest, but Spice promptly picked her up by the waist and gently floated back up into the air before placing her on Sakura’s broad shoulder. Michelle instinctively grabbed the hilt of Sakura’s large golden sword strapped to her back to steady herself.

“Better?” Spice inquired, floating around the other two women like an energetic bumblebee.

“Uh yeah. This is fine,” Michelle replied, slightly nervous in spite of herself. Sakura was tall; it would be a long way down if she fell.

“I’ve got you.” Michelle looked over to see Sakura smiling at her. Now that she was eye level with her, she could make out her sharp yellow eyes a lot more clearly. There was something strangely familiar about them.

“So, what is it you wanted to ask me?” Sakura inquired.

Michelle blinked. “I was just wondering about your accent. I don’t recognize it. Where are you from?”

Sakura’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she smiled. “Me? I’m from Wano.”

Michelle almost fell off Sakura’s shoulder in the way she gaped at her in shock. “W-What?! Seriously? You mean the Wano Kuni, the kingdom that’s been isolated for almost seven hundred years?!”

Sakura laughed at Michelle’s reaction. “The very same. Is that really so surprising?”

“Well, yeah. I mean people aren’t allowed in or out of that country, right?” This explained why she didn’t recognize the language Sakura was speaking. It was Wanonese, a tongue known only to those native to the Kingdom of Wano.

“That is usually true, but I guess you could say my dad has some influence with the Shogun.” Sakura winked at Michelle, which only confused the other woman more.

“Hey! We’re here!” Spice suddenly piped up, having flown a short way ahead of the other two and was waving her hands frantically, while hovering in midair.

Michelle had become so engrossed with her conversation with Sakura that she hadn’t even noticed they reentered the bustling downtown district of Hakuriki Town. Spice was drifting in part of a massive pink palace-like building that had dozens of multi-colored bubbles drifting out of white spiral-shaped towers jutting out of the twisty cream-colored dome roof.

“Oh wow! It’s so cute!” Sakura exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she took in the impressive structure, all decked out in her favorite color.

Michelle waved aside some of purple bubbles that were floating in the air around them. Her fingers popped one of them as she did so, and the air was instantly filled with the scent of lavender. “Ooh nice.”

“This place looks great!” Spice proclaimed, finally alighting on the ground in front of the door. “Can you fit, Sakura?”

“I might have to duck to get through the door but the inside looks spacious enough,” the taller woman replied as she abruptly reached up and grasped Michelle by the back of her sweater, lifting her off her shoulder and gently setting her down on the ground.

“Thank you,” Michelle whispered before following Spice through the large pink double doors after she pulled them open with the massive handles. Sakura ducked in after them, careful not to brush her horns on the top of the door frame.

The front room of the spa was filled with even more multi-colored bubbles than the outside. The ceiling was high enough to accommodate Sakura, but the bubbles kept popping on her horns, periodically filling the air with

A short, plump receptionist draped in waves of fuchsia fabric greeted the girls on the front desk and quickly beckoned a small group of white and pink clothed employees to usher the into the back room once Spice had signed them in.

The Sweet Commander had to insist on paying, even though the woman urged her not to, saying the spa’s treatment was offered to the Charlotte Family free of charge. However, Spice gave her the money anyways, declaring she wanted to support the business.

The young female attendants in their pink and white candy cane stripe uniforms lead Michelle, Spice and Sakura through the coral pink halls of the spa, lined with rooms on all sides.

The ladies lead them into one of the rooms and directed them to little cubbies where they could put their clothes and shoes and replace them with fluffy white robes and flip flops.

Michelle couldn’t believe how soft the bathrobe was; it felt like she was wrapped in a cloud.

“Sakura, no. You can’t take your swords with you,” Spice was saying to her sister-in-law.

“Why not?!”

“It should be obvious why not!”

Michelle giggled to herself.

                                                              ~~~

The rest of the afternoon was a flurry of steam, soft benches, sweet-smelling perfumes and more colorful bubbles.

The three young women were all given massages and body cleansing treatment. Michelle felt as though she could melt into the table as the masseuse worked at the tense muscles in her back and shoulders. Her bad leg didn’t even seem to be hurting her anymore.

After that, the girls were given some time to unwind in a sauna, which left Michelle feeling nearly boneless if a little stuffy from the steam.

Finally, the last thing on the roster were manicures and pedicures. Michelle picked out a royal purple nail polish for her fingers and toes, a color Cracker had said looked good on her in the past.

Spice choose pumpkin orange of course, and Sakura predictably picked bubblegum pink.

The three girls all sat in large highbacked recliners with soft cushion lining while the workers cleaned their feet with the help of small bubbling tubs mounted on the floor.

Sakura and Spice were once again filling the air with their rigorous flow of conversation. It was almost as erratic and colorful as the clouds of bubbles drifting over their heads. Michelle was more than content just to listen, leaning back in her seat as the employee doing her pedicure rubbed a sweet-smelling cream onto the soles of her feet to smooth out any dry skin.

“Where are you from, Michelle?” Sakura’s voice suddenly jerked the other young woman out of her reverie.

“Huh?”

“Spice tells me you’re not from Tottoland originally,” Sakura elaborated at Michelle’s confused expression.

“Oh. No, I’m not.”

“So where are you from?”

Michelle smiled almost wistfully. “I don’t really have a home country. I was born on a ship on the Grand Line. My parents are merchants, and me and my little brother traveled around with them our entire lives.”

Sakura’s eyes widened. “That’s unbelievable! So, you must have been all over the world, huh?”

Michelle nodded, surprised at the other woman’s enthusiasm. To her, her life had always been her own and had soon grown rather boring, which was why she had decided to settle down in one place in Tottoland. She would sometimes forget that it probably sounded fantastical and strange to other people. “I’ve been through most of the Grand Line and some parts of the New World, also the North Blue a few times.”

Sakura seemed absolutely enthralled. “Can you tell me more about the places you’ve visited?” she inquired, leaning forward slightly in her seat with an earnest smile.

Michelle nodded. “Sure. I can do that.” She was more than willing to indulge the other woman; after all, if Sakura really was from Wano like she mentioned, she probably hadn’t been to many other places growing up. So, Michelle soon found her stride in telling Sakura and Spice stories from her childhood of travelling around with her family. She tried to be as descriptive as possible so as to paint the clearest picture of her “adventures”.

For her part, Sakura listened with rapt attention, her eye shining all the while.

By the time they’d gotten done with their pedicures and manicures and  had moved to sitting at low tables while their fingernails dried under lights, Michelle had pretty much exhausted all of her stores.

Sakura was beaming. “So, you said you have a brother?”

“Yeah, I have a little brother,” Michelle replied, “He’s still a teenager. Do you have any siblings?”

“I do!” Spice piped up, blowing on her pumpkin-colored nails.

“We know,” Sakura shot back with a snort. “I have an older brother. He’s my twin actually.”

“Oh really?” Michelle intrigued.

“Yeah, we’re nearly identical but he doesn’t think so,” Sakura continued, lifting up her own nails to inspect if they were properly dried yet.

As she did so, the sleeve of her fluffy white robe slipped down slightly, and Michelle could make out a large intricate tattoo on the inner forearm of her left arm.

Sakura glance up, catching Michelle staring. “What is it?”

“Oh nothing. I just noticed your tattoo.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah this?” Gently, Sakura pulled down her sleeve further to show the tattoo off better. It was a beautiful piece consisting of a large dragon with glittering azure scales coiled around a phoenix with brilliant multicolored flaming feathers creating a kind of balanced Ying Yang effect.

“Oh wow. So pretty.”

“Thanks.” Sakura smiled proudly, “It’s my parents.”

“Huh?” Michelle glanced back up, confused. “What do you mean?”

“The dragon is my dad and the phoenix is my mom,” Sakura explained, tracing her fingers along the details of her tattoo.

“Who are your parents, Sakura?” Michelle asked innocently, “Do they live here in Tottoland or are they back in Wano?”

“They live in Wano. My dad pretty much runs the place.” Sakura gently folded her arms, looking rather smug.

Michelle’s eyes widened. “Runs Wano?! Who is he? He must be very important.”

Sakura chuckled. “You could say that. My dad’s Kaido.”

CRASH!

“Michelle! Oh my god!” Spice jumped up, quickly flying over to Michelle and helping her off the ground from where she’d fallen out of her chair, scattering the rainbow bubbles.

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” Michelle assured her. “I was just…surprised.” She looked back at Sakura, who was staring at her with a rather amused expression. As she looked at her, really looked at her, she realized why her sharp yellow eyes, almost reptilian in nature, looked so familiar, because she’d seen them staring out at her from a Wanted Poster for man worth over 4 billion berries. Honestly, she supposed the horns would have been enough of a tip off.

Michelle had to laugh. “You’re serious? You’re Kaido’s daughter?!”

“Michelle, quiet!” Spice urged her, glancing over at the spa workers who were all giving them pointed looks. “We’re not supposed to be making too much noise.”

At this, the other young woman felt her face grow warm, realizing that the sound of her falling out of her chair in shock had probably already made enough of a racket.

Sakura stood up. “I think we should get going.”

                                                     ~~~

Before she knew it, Michelle found herself once again on Sakura’s shoulder, walking through the streets of Hakuriki Town with Spice zipping around above their heads. She gripped the fabric of her yukata as tightly as she dared, listening to the almost rhythmic clinking of Sakura’s weapons against her body.

“I didn’t know Kaido had any children….” She finally said.

Sakura barked a laugh. “I surprised you that much, huh? Is it that hard to believe? Big Mom says I look like my father. I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not, but it’s certainly something.”

Michelle glanced around as they walked, seeing people were ducking out of their way to avoid Sakura’s large strides, noticing, as she hadn’t before, the fear on many of their faces accompanying the usual awe and respect for members of the Charlotte Family like Spice and Cracker.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just surprising because Kaido’s a terrifying monster, an Emperor of the Sea rumored to be unkillable and the strongest creature in the world. And you’re just so…” she trailed off as she looked at Sakura.

“Not what you would expect?”

Michelle laughed nervously. “I guess not.”

“I suppose my brother Yamato would fight the mold a little better. I’m bigger than him but he and my dad both like to hit things with heavy clubs. They have that in common, at least.” There was a certain edge to her voice that implied some deeper layers to that statement.

“What’s your mother like then?” Michelle then inquired. She remembered now that Winter and her sisters Crystal and North had discussed meeting Kaido’s wife and that she wasn’t very nice to them.

However, at the mention of her mother, Sakura’s face filled adoration. “My mother is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. She’s well-read and has medical training; she also speaks four languages! She insisted my brother and I learn the Common Tongue before I even came to Tottoland. She’s a powerful force to be reckoned with, although in a different way than my father, and he adores her.”

Michelle was very curious by all of this information. “I’d like to meet her someday.”

Sakura grinned at this. “Maybe you can! When I get to go home to Wano for a visit, maybe I could take you with me! Wouldn’t that be fun?!”

“It sure would be,” Michelle agreed.

“Hey guys! Look at this!” Spice, who had flown a few yards ahead of the other two, was pointing out towards the docks on the edge of the city. The massive main pier was densely packed with a heavy crowd of people all gathered around booths for some kind of festival celebration.

“Oh, it’s a Flour Festival!” Sakura explained as she and Michelle drew closer. “A bunch of the island’s chefs and bakers set up booths to advertise their newest creations. It always turns into quite the party.”

“It looks so fun!” Spice called, turning backflips in midair with excitement. “Let’s go check it out!”

“Sure thing.” Sakura turned to Michelle, “Have you ever had a crepe?”

                                                         ~~~

“I didn’t know these things could be filled with ice cream!” Spice exclaimed, licking a bit of chocolate sauce off her check with her tongue.

“They can be filled with whatever you want,” Sakura replied through a mouthful of her own pastry. “How’s yours, Michelle?”

“Delicious!” Michelle said of her chocolate and strawberry crepe. Who knew pancakes could be made even better?!

The sound of nearby music caught the three women’s attention and they all glanced towards it from where they were sitting on the sea wall at the edge of the pier, surrounded by side eyeing seagulls.

“Sounds like there’s a performance going on,” Sakura mused.

“There’s an ethnic group of nomadic people that travel around Tottoland and do street performances for money,” Spice explained, stuffing the rest of her crepe in her mouth and jumping to her feet. “They do really impressive acrobatic stuff. Let’s go take a look.”

“Sure, sounds fun,” Sakura got up as well before glancing back down at Michelle. “Are you coming?”

“I’ll be with you in a minute. I’m just gonna finish my food first.”

Sakura smirked at her. “Spice moves really fast, huh? It’s almost hard to keep up.”

Michelle laughed. “You got that right.”

“We’ll be over here when you need us,” Sakura continued, gesturing towards the crowd of cheering onlookers, enthusiastically watching the acrobatics of a bunch of brightly dressed people flipping across the pier. “Just look for the horns.” She added, pointing at them.

“I will.” Michelle replied as she watched Sakura walk off towards the dense throng of people, not being nearly as consumed by them as Spice was, her horns were still clearly visible.

With this in mind, the young woman turned back to her crepe and continue happily munching as some of the strawberries giggled, saying it tickled when she speared them with her fork.

A slight breeze drifted off the nearby ocean, gently ruffling her hair and the edges of her dress. It was a lovely day; the sky was a clear cloudless blue and the breeze from the sea was subtle yet refreshing.

A loud explosion suddenly went off directly next to Michelle. A huge, dark shape had smashed into the sea wall with a thunderous crash, shattering the stone and sending dust and bits of debris flying into the air.

Michelel shrieked, her half-eaten food falling from her grasp as she toppled backwards off the sea well. She was suspended in open air for the space of a heartbeat before she hit the moist sand of the beach below the pier.

Shaken, she scrambled to her feet as quickly as her bad leg permitted, reeling as she looked around wildly, shaking wet sand from her hair. A large cannon ball had impeded itself in the sea wall and people beyond the massive hole were running around in a panic just as another cannonball struck one of the brightly colored booths lining the edge of the pier and it burst into flames.

Michelle could feel her blood pounding in her ears, she hadn’t fallen very far so she wasn’t badly injured, but she was struggling to regain proper control of her bad.

The sounds of splashing made her whirl around to see a crowd of people stumbling through the water off of a series of life boats drifting amongst the small waves. They move through the shallow water like zombies, and Michelle felt her heart in her throat as she watched the men stagger towards her. They were all bone thin with sallow grey skin stretched across their inisdes, their eyes were black and hollow, staring almost lifelessly towards her. There was a spark, however, of something savage and wild in those empty eyes. The backdrop to this horrifying display was a large dark pirate ship drifting in harbor a good distance out. It cut through the water like a ghost with ripped sails and a battered hull, it looked like it would fall apart any second like paper mache.

“Who are you?!” Michelle blurted out. “What do you people want?!”

At her words, the one closest to her suddenly latched out and grabbed Michelle by the arm. She felt the cool steel of a cutlass against her throat before she had time to react. “Food…We need food and…and supplies,” he choked out, his voice hoarse like he’d been gargling sea water.

“Give us whatever we ask for or we’ll blow this whole island to smithereens!” added another of the pirates, lifting his own sword over his head but he hardly looked strong enough to wield it.

Michelle felt a slight pang of pity before another cannon ball struck the pier, having been fired from the ghost ship in the distance.

It hit the wood of the pier, splintering one of the supports and sending the whole thing off kilter. More terrified cries came from the crowd above

“Did you hear me, lady!” the man shouted in Michelle’s face, redirecting her attention. “Give us the stuff we need or I’m gonna kill you!” She felt the pressure of his sword at her throat again

“Michelle!” She glanced up at the sound of her name in time to see Sakura drop out of the sky like a bird of prey.

The sound of her sword slice through the air like a lightning strike, and the man holding Michelle fell back with a stream and blood spurting from his chest.

She fell back hard on the wet sand and her body was suddenly eclipsed by Sakura’s massive form standing between her and the attacking men. She had both of her swords drawn, their silver and gold exterior glinting in the late afternoon sun.

Two more of the ragged men lunged at her to avenge their fallen comrade. Sakura’s body hardly seemed to move at all before both men had hit the ground, their blood soaking the sand.

“W-Wait! Stand down!” one of the men further back yelled as more of the ravaged crew rushed her. “That woman is the Oni Princess, the daughter of Kaido. She has a bounty over 1 billion berries!”

Michelle’s jaw dropped in spite of herself, but she quickly regained her wits and scrambled out of the way as Sakura continued to slash at the advancing invader pirates. She flipped over one man’s head as he tried to bring down his axe on top of her, alighting neatly behind him and slicing him in half. Now facing Michelle, she could see the blood splattering Sakura’s pink form, flecks of it hitting her face and she felt more than a little queasy.

“Michelle!” At the sound of her name, she turned to see Spice flying over to her, alighting in the sand beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Michelle had scarcely gotten the confirmation out before Spice had rounded on the invading pirates. “Hey assholes! Eat this!” A ball of flaming golden light strangely shaped like a Jack O’ Lantern suddenly burst from her palm and shot into a small crowd of the ragged pirate crew. It exploded on impact and sent several of them flying backwards. They didn’t get up again. Meanwhile, Sakura continued to cut down more of the attackers one by one, her moves practiced and seemingly effortless.

However, a second later, another cannon ball hit the sand and erupted upon hitting the ground close by, spraying shrapnel and dust everywhere.

“Michelle, get down!” Spice quickly shielded her from the explosion before whirling around on Sakura. “We gotta take out that boat!”

“On it.” The other woman replied simply, having just cut down the last of the attacking pirates. She then turned and held calmly sheathed the smaller silver sword before taking the large gold one in both hands. Poised to strike, she aimed at the ghost ship drifting several yards from the shore, seemingly reading its cannons for another bombardment.

“Shokuryu!” Sakura yelled before bringing the sword down hard, slashing through the air and creating a strangely beautiful golden arc through the air. It rocketed across the shallow waves at breakneck speed before colliding with the ship and cutting it neatly in two. The ship exploded into two large pieces, splintering apart into dozens of others as it hit the waves. More distant screaming could be heard from those left on board as the pieces were slowly consumed by the ocean’s waves and then there was just an eerie silence.

Michelle stared at Sakura as she looked on at the carnage she created, surrounded by the corpses of the ragged pirates. She was breathing heavily, standing with her sword still firmly grasped in both hands and her clothes covered in blood and also staining her face and hands. However, as Michelle looked on she could see that Sakura’s eyes were bright, wild, even feral. She was also grinning broadly from ear to ear.

A shiver passed through the other young woman.

Spice looked at her. “You good?”

Michelle exhaled. “Yeah. I think so.” Still a little shaken, she managed to make it to her feet with only minimal support from Spice.

Meanwhile, Sakura wiped the blood from her sword and slipped it back into it’s sheath on her back. Absentmindedly, she wiped at some of the blood drying on her cheek.

“Sakura!” A deep familiar voice suddenly called out from across the beach.

The three girls all turned towards it to see Katakuri hurrying towards them. He was holding his black trident Mogura tightly in one hand and his half-hidden features were tight with concern.

However, upon seeing him, Sakura’s expression immediately returned to the bright cheerfulness that she had exhibited before the fight. “Katakuri!” she bounded across the beach towards him in two strides, jumping into his arms and causing him to drop his weapon in the sand.

“Sakura-” Katakuri repeated, slightly taken aback as she wrapped her arms around his neck, grinning at him while he supported her by the waist. “Are you alright? You’re covered in-”

“It’s not my blood,” Sakura interrupted. “Don’t worry, we’re all fine. We took care of it.”

“I see.” Katakuri let go of his hold on Sakura and she pulled her hands back from his neck.

“I can handle myself, Katakuri. You keep forgetting that.”

“Oh wow…So Katakuri still can’t see the outcome of events involving Sakura,” Spice whispered from beside Michelle, causing her to turn towards her in surprise. “His future sight is clouded around her.”

Michelle felt a strange feeling as she took this information in, watching Sakura interact with her husband, smiling and laughing as if nothing had happen. She remembered what the invading pirates, who had been ravaged by the New World so much, they had been desperate enough to try and raid an island in Tottoland, had said when they saw Sakura. She was the daughter of Kaido, the Oni Princess with a bounty nearly as big as Katakuri, the strongest Sweet Commander and the most powerful of Big Mom’s many children.

It now made sense to Michelle why Big Mom had wanted Sakura to marry her son. Despite her outward appearance and personality, she was a monster, just like her father.

“Hey! Do you guys wanna stay for dinner!” Sakura called over to Spice and Michelle, jerking the latter out of her thoughts.

“Yeah. Sure!” Spice called back. “That’s okay with you, right Michelle?”

“Yeah, it should be fine. I think I should call Cracker when we get back, so he knows where I am.”

“Awesome! Let’s go!” Sakura grabbed Katakuri’s hand and pulled him past the other two girls towards the steps that lead off the beach and back up onto the street.

“Sorry about how today went,” Spice apologized as she helped Michelle up the steps after them. “I was hoping you would get some time to relax.”

“No! It’s alright. I still had a great day,” Michelle reassured her. “It was a lot of fun hanging out with you two.”

Spice’s expression brightened. “Really? I’m glad.”

As they made it to the top of the steps, Michelle could see that Katakuri was now walking in step beside Sakura, leading her along with his arm wrapped lightly around her waist. She also caught a glimpse of his face, mostly hidden by his scarf and could see that his cheeks were slightly flushed as he listened to Sakura explain the day’s events.

The way he was looking at his wife, even so subtly out of just the corner of his gaze, a warm light could still be seen in his eyes.

Michelle smiled to herself as she and Spice walked along behind them. “Cute.”

 To be continued in “Michelle Goes to Yakigashi Island”

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Saturday 26 May 1838

8

12 ¼

fine morning F61 ½° at 8 ½ am A- went to the cathedral about 8 or after to sketch the interior and returned at 9 35 – I sat writing till 10 – then breakfast – changed our room – from the small one to the next adjoining a large very good room and breakfasting and moving our things till 12 – our garçon Paul Voisin a nice civil good countenanced unmarried aetatis 31 man from Lyons – does not like here – would be glad to be in a private house again – would be glad to go with us – lived 15 years with la marquise de Montague – was then in the army – then not getting a good place at Lyons came to Paris and from there here – in bed at 12 or 2 and up at 4 – so hard a place, nobody could stay long – he makes 800fr. a year – but would rather have less in a different place – had 350 fr. a year with the marquise de M- and livery – she lived in the r. de la université, but is not now in Paris – lives in the country – A- and I out at 12 35 – took a commissionaire to shew us the way, and then sent him home – Mr. Mumm or somebody, a very civil young man, protestant it seemed, and speaking English very fairly – a German shewed us over the cellars, and afterwards shewed us into a large good salon, and gave us champagne and biscuits – the wine Mousseux and very fair but not so good as Moets’ of Epernay in 1833. should I have as good of Moet at 3/. a bottle? ordered a dozen of his 1ere qualité at 4/50 per bottle to be sent off on Monday and would be in Paris on Tuesday or Wednesday to my address rue St. Victor n° 27 à Paris – thought we might get this dozen over to England for Lady Stuart – en petite cadeau – about an hour at the cellars (at Mr. Mumms’) underground and above – 3 stories of cellars to the depth of 36 to 40 ft. ventilated by grates communicating from the bottom cellar to the top – each story divided into separate vaults perhaps the loftiest 7 or 8ft. high in the centre – perhaps 4 or 5 yards wide and 20+ long – in the lowest story 3 men corking – one filling up the bottles – another putting in the cork, and driving it down with a machine (has only had it about 15 months) on the principle of a corn or button-stamping machine, and the 3rd man tying down the corks, (the tightness gained by a small steel thing round which the string is turned and held fast while the other end is pulled tight) – It is not long since everybody left off gaudon (rosin) and covered the corks with lead-paper – a great improvement

Monday 28 May 1838. no good wine in champagne says our landlord of the Ecu at Epernay since the year 1834.

asked for champagne tranquille – cannot have it now – not till next year – not ripe enough now – that of 1834 will not be ripe till next year – taken with the double-incline clearing racks  the bottles ranged in an angle = about 25°? require turning twice a day for 2 or 3 weeks till all the sediment has sunk down to the cork – then the cork taken out (a difficult operation saw it done) and with the cork out gushes the sediment in the froth that escapes and the bottle being refilled is immediately re-corked – vintage in October – wine remains in cash till April May or June – about 6 months – Mr. Mumm has no vineyards of his own – buys the grapes – shewed us his great ton = 19,000 bottles = 70 such casks as we saw lying about – sends wine to America in boxes containing 12 bottles and 50 ditto has a house in London, Francfort and Cologne – Inquired respecting the ventilation of cellars – he said wine should have good pure air – Madeira should be kept warm and may do without air, but good air cannot do it any harm if the temperature be attended to – the breakage of champagne = 50p.c. the time of year now coming on – best to order champagne for a years’ consumption – should not be kept too long – he owned that the Bordeaux wines (Claret) for the English market were mixed with hermitage and brandy – on leaving Mr. Mumms’ at 1 55 sauntered in the little Jardin des Plantes – nothing particular in it – 2 or 3 little  serres, not much in them – then to the Cours the very nice shaded promenades – then Champs Elysées of Rheims – very pretty cool and pleasant (hot and very fine sun today) sat there writing in pencil in my rough note book all the above of today till now 2 ¾ - and then to the cemetery close by – i.e. close by the Porte de Mars leading to Flanders (the gate by which we entered yesterday) and the ‘Mission’ i.e. croix de la mission erected in 1825, and now turned to a monument to the memory of the brave who died fighting for the liberty of France (viz. the revolutions of the 3 days of July 1830) – sometime in the cemetery spite of boiling sun – among the tombeaux and epitaphs one of the latter by a father to the memory of his daughter, Marie Antoniette Sophie l’Inglois decêdée Thursday 5 December 1822 dans sa 21me année – after 10 foregoing lines ends thus

‘ô mon chere enfant, attends en paix

ce père malheureux ! attends-le sous cette terre

Qui d’après un homme religieux et sensible,

‘n’est que la cendre des morts pétrie avec les larmes

de vivans’ pretty idea  

not aware at this moment that the ancien porte de Mars (arc de triomphe of the Romans) was so near

from the cemetery thro’ the streets and marché to the palais archiépiscopale

the archbishop M. le cardinal de Couci set off to Paris a day or 2 before the outburst of the revolution of July 1830, and has never been here since – at Goritz with the ex-royal family – the bishop of Numidie does the duties of the archbishop – the archbishop much regretted – a very good man – did a great deal of good –the palais worth seeing the grande salle surrounded by the pictures of the king crowned here from Clavis downwards very handsome – pity that damp is spoiling some of the pictures e.g. Louis XVI. at the end of  the salle – Charles X. taken away – the picture still in the palais but his place in the salle vacant, and several fleurs de lis here and there defaced – (as also the fleurs de lis on the shield of Louis 15 in the Place royale – how puerile!) – the grande salle 130x36 pieds and height = about 36 pieds up to the square – ceiling domed – large poutres (beams) across the room partly gilt with 2 rings in each beam towards the side of the room for suspending 2 chandeliers – 4 windows on each side the great entrance door by flight of steps from without – 4 doors on the opposite side of the room – the great fire-place at the end of the room and over it St. Remy crowning Clovis – shewn into what Charles x intended turning into the chapel – the painted glass windows put in – but all stopt by the revolution – this place was the palais de justice after the revolution of 1789 and 3 stories of prisonniers were in this very spot – the duke of Orelans was lately at our hotel (the Lyon d’or) but did not see the Palace – no! said I, he is still a Bourbon, and the sight could not be agreeable – from here went home at 4 ½ for A- to have wine and biscuit and then out again at 4 52 and off to the church of St. Remy – a 20 minutes walk and there at 5 ¼ - under repair – expected to be done in 2 years from this time – very curious old church – the whole of the nave boarded off – had been new roofed and now full of workmen – 2 stories of double aisle round the apsis and choir and a narrow gallery above the upper story immediately under the painted windows – do not remember to have seen this sort of 2 storied double-aisle – went up to the upper story – same dimensions apparently even as high as the story below – the vitreaux – (painted glass) – very ancient – date not known – supposed to be as old as the church – evidently very ancient – all the ceilings of aisles and choir stone-work plastered and painted in imitation of brick-work – the new vaulting (new roof of the nave) done in wood – the old stone roof too heavy on the walls – the 2 stories of double aisle run all round the nave too – see as we return, that the new roof is not quite so steep as the old one – as seen from the old walls of the town the eves are all in one line but the ridge of the old roof of the choir is about 3ft. higher than the ridge of the new roof of the nave – just peeped into the nave after having seen the high altar and chasse containing the relies of St. Remy – the chasse of solid silver before the revolution of 1789 – now of cuivre argenté – the relies exposed to the faithful

SH:7/ML/E/21/0110

for 9 days in October every year – the figures round the high altar not finished sculptured at the back because stood originally against a wall – done under the orders of a cardinal of Lorraine 300 or 400 years ago – interesting as representing in marble statues the 6 ecclesiastical and 6 lay paises de France and their officers who assisted at the sacres (coronations) of the kings of France – looking towards the altar

the left

‘Duke de Bourgogne’ holding the crown

D. de Normandie – a standard

D. de Aquitaine – a standard

Comte ‘de champagne’ – a standard

C. de Flandre – the sword

C. de Toulouse – the spurs

the right

archduke de Rheims holding sa croix

Ev. duke de Laon – a crosier et l’ampoule

Ev. d. de Langres – a crosier et containing the oil and sceptre

Ev. comte de Beauvais – a crosier

Ev. c. de Chalons – a crosier and the ring

Ev. c. de Noyon – a crosier et la selle the kings’s saddle

immediately at the back of the altar in the space between the last Evêque and last court is a St. Remy seated in his archiepiscopal robes and mitre teaching Clovis kneeling at his feel and a Diacre or assistant holding the cosier and an open book – Left the church (much interested) at 6 20 – sauntered back along the  boulevard very lately planted with young elms – cart road in the middle and 2 allées (promenades) (old rampart) the Vesle river running close along its foot on the other side the old wall – on our right towards the town, great deal of garden ground – pépinières and sale vegetable gardens – delighted with our walk back – nowhere such good views of the exterior of the cathedral – too short – too lumping as a whole – wants the lantern tower the lengthiness of York minster, and its freedom from flying buttresses at the east end which look like steps to graduate the high roof gently down to the ground – the effect of this is bad – as if the building could not support its height at that end – never travel without a view of York minster – take it all in all, has it an equal in the world? when very near our hotel at 7 the light so beautiful on the cathedral turned into a courtyard for a better view – the gentleman of the house civilly asked us in and the wife shewed us in the garden – she said the effect would be still better in about an hour – she regretted the great numeros of pigeons jackdaws, crows etc that inhabited the exterior of the building – to us these birds give life to the scene and improve the picturesque – she said the crows assembled on the wire all along the ridge of the roof so as sometimes to form an almost continuous line from end to end, and all regularly flew away to les champs at 9pm – as good as a clock for 9pm we inquired about Mr. Mumm as to the street in which he lived – she did not know the name – supposed we had seen the cellars of Mr. Muller or Mr. Roeder (a German we said he spoke English well and was a protestant) – asked who was really the most renommé négociant en vins in Reims – Madame Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin- I said the town was full of dyers – yes! but only 6 or 7 great dyers in the town – It turned out her husband was a dyer and also a wine merchant – she said we ought to see les filatures en laine (woollen spinning mills) – it seems they have power looms here – she says trade has been very bad, but is now reviving or revived and pretty goof again – Had ordered dinner at 7 – not in till 7 ½ - dinner immediately but the lateness an excuse for a bad dinner – no épinards – nothing left – I sent for one mutton cutlet for I had literally nothing but cold fish not eating the bit of beef or the little redone overdone poulet or asparagus – sat over dinner and dessert till 10 – then wrote till 11 – very fine day – F67° at 11 pm

[lady-divine-writes]

Neck Kisses (Rated NC17)

It’s four in the morning, and Crowley wants his husband to come to bed. Aziraphale wants to read, and he’s more than happy to stay on the sofa where he is.

...

Crowley is not pleased with these circumstances. (1279 words)

Inspired by this prompt. Contains non-graphic/implied oral at the very end.

“Urgh! Angel! Noooo!” Crowley steps over the back of the sofa, drops onto a cushion beside Aziraphale, and continues his childish groaning, which seems to come from the pit of his stomach and lasts a good minute-and-a-half. Behind the red canvas cover of his book, Aziraphale snickers, marveling at how this demon, at over six thousand years old, can manage to sound like a grumpy toddler every time he’s the slightest bit inconvenienced. “Are you still reading?”

“Yes, I am.” Aziraphale puts a finger to the last word he read, since Crowley’s whining has the power to make him lose his place.

“Well, would you be willing to stop reading? It’s four in the morning. I’d really like to go to bed.”

“You can go to bed. No one’s stopping you.”

“Yes …” Crowley slides up to Aziraphale’s side. He wraps his left arm around his stomach and his right behind his shoulders, filling up as much of his personal space as possible “… but I need to go to bed with my husband.”

“And why would that make a difference?”

“And why would that make a difference?” Crowley mimics. “Because it’s rather difficult to make love to one’s spouse when they’re fully dressed and in another room.”

“Hmm. I can see where that might be a problem,” Aziraphale agrees, reaching the end of his page and turning it. “All right then. One more chapter and I’ll join you.”

Crowley groans again, but has the courtesy to lean away and not throw a deafening fit right in his angel’s ear.  “That’s what you said five hours ago!”

“I’m sorry! I haven’t read this book in ages and I got sucked into it.”

Crowley grins, nuzzling the soft skin of his angel’s earlobe, breathing hot against his pulse. “I have something you can get sucked into.”

“Very funny.” Aziraphale sniffs, trying to sound unaffected by Crowley’s closeness. “And if you’re referring to what I think you’re referring to, vulgar and immature.”

“Fine,” Crowley grumbles. “But I’m going to sit right here and keep an eye on you. One more chapter you said. That’s all.”

“That’s all,” Aziraphale confirms, and with a nod goes back to reading while Crowley sits silently, head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder, bored out of his gourd after only seventy-three seconds. He sighs dramatically. When Aziraphale doesn’t get the hint, doesn’t simply give in, he sighs again. When that doesn’t affect a change, he says, “While I’m here, would you be willing to tell me what your book’s about?”

Aziraphale snorts. “You want me to tell you what my book is about?”

“Yes.”

“The Red Badge of Courage?”

“Sure.” Crowley shrugs. “I haven’t read it in a while. Refresh my memory.”

“Very well. Why don’t I read to you from this next passage?”

“Sounds fantastic.”

Aziraphale clears his throat, wiggles himself straight, and begins where he left off. “The youth went slowly toward the fire indicated by his departed friend. As he reeled, he bethought him of the welcome his comrades would give him. He had a conviction that he would soon feel in his sore heart the barbed missiles of ridicule. He had no strength to invent a tale; he would be a soft target …”

“Mmm … soft …” Crowley murmurs as he tightens around Aziraphale, snuggling deep into the crook of his neck, whispy strands of his red hair tickling Aziraphale’s chin.

“He made vague plans to go off into the deeper darkness and hide, but they were all destroyed by the voices of exhaustion and pain from his body. His ailments, clamoring, forced him to seek the place of food and rest, at whatever cost …”

Aziraphale feels Crowley readjust, move his right arm till he can massage Aziraphale’s shoulder. He tips his head up, and a third sigh lands against the angel’s neck.

“He swung unsteadily toward the fire. He could see the forms of men throwing black shadows in the red light, and as he went nearer it became known to him in some way that the ground was strewn with sleeping men ...”

“Sleeping men,” Crowley repeats, lips brushing Aziraphale’s skin, placing kisses ever so gently around his jawline. Aziraphale opens his mouth to begin again, but his head swims from the deliberate press of those lips in spots Crowley knows will make Aziraphale fold like a house of cards pitted against a stiff breeze.

“I---is this a thing we do now?” he asks, his voice buzzing against Crowley’s lips.

“Yes,” Crowley whispers. “This is a thing we do now.”

“A-and how long are you going to be doing that?”

“Does it bother you?”

“I-I didn’t say it bothered me,” Aziraphale answers, frustratingly unable to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m simply looking for a timeline.”

“Until I tire of kissing you, or you surrender and come to bed with me. However, I think it’s only fair to warn you that I will never tire of kissing you.”

“Since when have you been fair?”

“Since now.”

“I know what you’re trying to accomplish,” Aziraphale says haughtily, “but this may not inspire me to leave the sofa.”

“We don’t have to leave the sofa.” Crowley unwinds from his husband’s body. He moves Aziraphale slowly, lying him out on the cushions beneath him, resting his head on the overstuffed arm. “In fact, you can keep reading if you’d like.”

“I can?” Aziraphale peers at his husband, perplexed when Crowley starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“A-ha … while I make love to you right here.”

“Oh … well …” Aziraphale squeaks, lifting his book above his husband’s head as Crowley’s body fights for space with Aziraphale’s arms, “that’s very polite of you, I suppose.”

“Go on,” Crowley teases, his mouth making its way over the subtle swells of Aziraphale’s chest, working down towards his waist. “Keep reading. I wanna hear you.”

“Oh. O-okay.” Aziraphale scoots as Crowley shifts, his left knee pressing into the sofa back and his right leg sliding over the side to accommodate his demon lover. He looks back at his book when they’ve both settled, the words blurring then snapping back into focus after every touch of his husband’s lips – an impact tremor caused by Crowley’s mouth against his skin. “Of a sudden he confronted a black and monstrous figure. A rifle barrel caught some glinting beams. "Halt! halt!" He was dismayed for a moment, but he presently thought that he recognized the nervous voice. As he stood tottering before the rifle barrel, he called out: "Why, hello, Wilson, you--you here?"

Aziraphale gasps, shoving those last two words to the back of his throat when Crowley’s teeth tug open the button to his slacks, then pull the zip down.

“The r-rifle was lowered to a position of caution … a-and the loud soldier came slowly forward. He peered into the youth's face.”

Aziraphale re-doubles his efforts, determined to get to the end of this chapter without his husband slipping him up. It’s only a few hundred words after all. What’s a few hundred words? Not a whole page. Barely a swallow.

Swallow, he discovers, is an all too apt description for what Crowley has chosen to do.

"That you, Henry?"

"Yes, it's--it's me."

"Well, well, ol' boy," said the other, "by ginger, I'm glad t' see … I'm glad t' see …”

Softer and softer Aziraphale’s voice becomes, the words drifting from his lips, withering when they come in contact with the air at the caress of his husband’s tongue, the movement of his husband’s throat.

The last Crowley hears of The Red Badge of Courage is the thunk the book makes when it hits the floor.

[willddheartt]

Babylon: Neon Lights | C.H. Chapter Two: Talk Fast

DISCLAIMER: SOME PARTS MIGHT BE R RATED !! Series warnings: Substances (alcohol & cigarettes), Anger (snappy comments), that’s it?? 

Series Masterlist 

June 26th “Hey Ash, what movie should I put on?” I called from his couch  “I don’t know, do you wanna cry or laugh?” He asked, walking in from the kitchen with bowls of snacks.  “Should we ask the others when they get here?”  Ashton shook his head, “They’re late, no choice. Them’s the rules.”  “Okay, you pick,” I shrugged, handing two DVD cases to him  “Definitely 21,” He pointed 

I nodded, putting the disk in the player and waiting for it to read before taking a seat in the white chair to the left of the tv. Ashton pulled the table between, where he sat on the couch and myself so we could both reach the snacks. Just as the previews on the disk started playing the front door opened and we heard Michael yell through the house. “Honey, we’re home”  “What are we watching?” Violet asked, walking in and jumping over the back of the couch to sit in the middle  “You’re late, 21 jump street,” Ashton answered  “Aw, I love that one,” Michael said, grabbing a bag of gummies and sitting on the last seat on the couch, leaving Calum and Luke to the floor cushions. 

“Didn’t we watch this one last time?” Luke asked as he took a seat on the floor, leaning against the couch  “Wasn’t my choice, blame Ash,” I held up my hands  Calum sat next to the chair I sat in and scoffed at my words, “‘Course it's not your fault, never is, hm?” 

I looked down at him from the corner of my eye, shooting him a confused look, but shaking it off and turning my attention back to the television, doing my best to ignore Calum for the rest of the night. The new knowledge that Ashton gets upset when Calum and I bicker, making me more mindful of the situation and the people who are around. Halfway through the movie, I found my eyelids drooping shut as I sank further down in the chair, trying to cover up with my hoodie, but only being left colder. A tap on the side of my leg turned my attention to the floor, Calum handed me the blanket Luke discarded to the side when he first sat down. I muttered a quiet ‘thanks’, barely above a whisper, I wasn’t sure he even heard. 

Friday movie nights at Ashton’s everyone normally stayed over, most of us falling asleep during a movie, and it being too late to drive home by the time we woke up. Ashton's house was covered in mostly white, making even the latest hours of the night look like mid-evening.  It was two, almost three in the morning, I was so thankful I didn’t have work in the morning. I don’t think I could do customer service with two hours of sleep. I shuffled around Ashton’s kitchen, trying to get a glass of water as quiet as possible as to not wake anyone up, and failing.  Another pair of feet shuffled over Ashton’s hardwood floors, coming up behind me. I turned around, being faced with a half-asleep Calum. In the low light of the dark kitchen and his messy hair, it almost looked like I could fall for him. Almost. 

“What are you doing up?” He said coldly, voice raspy and laced with sleep.  I shrugged, sipping on my water to avoid answering him. I didn’t have an answer to why I was up, what? I couldn't sleep? Well no shit. “Ignore me, it's not like I asked you a question or anything,” Calum mumbled to himself as he waited for the glass to fill up “My bad Mr.Hood, do I owe you a reply?” I said innocently, raising my eyebrows trying to look shocked before letting my face fall and eyes roll. 

Calum and I stood in the kitchen in silence, finishing the glasses of water. Sometimes I wished things were different between us. Especially the times when he looked exceptionally attractive, there were times when the thought of hugging or even kissing him wasn’t totally repulsive. 

-

July 1st A new shipment of men's clothing and a bunch of slacking coworkers left me folding and hanging up the new men's dress pants and shirts. Though it wasn't all that bad, the speakers of the tired soundtrack that played day after day were quieter in the men's section, giving me a bit of peace.  I stood back in the dressing rooms, hiding away as I continued to fold the pants, along with any clothing that was left to be put away. 

I just finished the pile of pants and went to start on the mountain of clothing that was left from other customers but noticed a man walking towards me with an arm full of different coloured button-downs. 

“Do you need a dressing room, sir?” I asked, customer service voice showing my fake enthusiasm. “Yeah, please-” The man's nice tone faltered when his face lifted and his eyes met with mine as I stood in front of him.  “Calum, hey,” I said through gritted teeth, and went straight to unlocking the dressing room door.  “Rossa, I didn't know you worked here,” He sounded surprised,  I nodded, “Violet and I have worked here for a while now,” Calum hummed in response, “Just don't make a mess, and think I’ll have to clean it up,” I added before he entered the dressing room.  

There were many questions floating around in my head that I wanted to ask him, but at the same time, I knew we were not the type to talk outside of our mutual friends. I went back to folding clothes in the corner behind a table until Calum stepped out the door of the dressing room in a baby blue short sleeve button down.  “I normally ask the attendants how I look when I’m not sure but I don't know if you can give me an honest opinion,” Calum said nervously.  “Do you mean, can I look past our differences?” I asked, he nodded. “I guess, where I have to be professional,” I said, to anyone else who worked here it sounded like Calum and I were joking around like friends would from the tone of voice I used because I wasn't trying to lose my job over Calum Hood. 

I looked him up and down and motioned for him to do a spin, waiting for him to obey and do a quick twirl so I could see how the shirt fit in the back. I walked up to him, tugging on the sleeves, noticing the shirt was too big and baggy.  “It's too big,” I commented, “For it to fit right you need the size down. Try on something else and I’ll run outback and get you the proper size,” I said  “Don’t bother, it was just a maybe.” He shook his head, waving me off.  “Okay, but it doesn't look bad. The colour is nice.”  Calum nodded and went back into the dressing room, I returned to the table with the pile of clothes. This time I was able to get a few shirts folded before Calum came out. Just as I picked up a shirt to fold he came out in a yellow short sleeve button down, the same style as the blue one. 

“What do you think?” He asked, I had gripped the shirt I picked up tightly, so much so that it would need to be ironed before getting folded, I was sure he noticed the white of my knuckles and the way I swallowed the ball in my throat before speaking. “It's nice,” I nodded, “The yellow looks good with your skin tone.” He spun around to look at himself in the mirror, “Does this one fit right?” I asked “Yeah, it should be my size,”  “It's nice,” I repeated  “Are those your actual thoughts or just something you tell the customers to get them to buy the item?” Calum asked  “It's me putting our past behind us to honestly help you with shirt shopping, it's also me not wanting to lose my job from treating you normally but we’ll look past that,” He rolled his eyes and scoffed at my words,  “Alright,” He nodded 

Moments later Calum came out dressed in the same hoodie he arrived in and handed me the shirts he didn't want, keeping a wine red, forest green and the sunshine yellow one.  “Thanks for the help,” He mumbled  “My pleasure Mr.Hood.” I tipped a pretend hat to him, rolling my eyes at my own actions, “Anyway, if you don't mind me being nosey, Why the nice clothes all the sudden?” 

“Ashtons Birthday needed something nicer.” He shrugged  “What was decided on that? Nobody has told me,”  “Probably because they’re realizing how annoying you are,”  For once I was left almost speechless at something he said, “Ouch, that's low even for you, Calum,” 

The realization at what he said finally rang through his head, and I could have sworn I caught a sliver of guilt on his features.  “The club, Ask Vi, she’ll fill you in.” He mumbled before walking off. 

-

I caught Violet coming to take my place at shift change as  I was on my way to punch out. 

“Violet,” I said, catching her attention, stopping her.  “Hey,” She smiled  “Has Calum been different? Like did something happen or anything?” I asked the comment he made earlier still stuck in the back of my head. Violet shook her head, “Not that I know of, why the sudden interest?”  “He was in today for something, but something he said was just really out there, like worse than our normal bickering, that's all.” I shrugged  “Why? What did he say?” Violet asked  I shook my head, “Doesn’t matter. Probably just Calum being Calum. I'll see ya after work,” 

Calum being Calum, something that never changed. Especially in a few hours. 

Violet and I were having dinner with the boys, as a celebration for Ashton’s birthday without the huge amounts of alcohol. It was just time to spend with close friends at a nice restaurant and talk. Even though we all spent a lot of time together, at one another's houses, it was nice to go out for a change.  Ashton picked the restaurant we were eating at, thankfully it was nothing fancy, and we ended up at a bar-restaurant. With the poot tables and bar on one side and restaurant on the other. The entire night Calum continued to make really low remarks, much like the one he made earlier today, his actions turning me away from wanting to spend time with the rest of the group. 

Excusing myself to get some air, was actually my way of saying I was going to chain smoke two cigarettes quickly to ease the stress. 

The only thing swirling around in my mind, as the second cigarette took the edge off, ‘What did I ever do to Calum that made him so hostile?” 

[asoftervirge]

Of “Love” & Murder (7/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: Logan Oxford: Esteemed Novelist

RATING: PG PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: mentions of Anxiety, Logan being A Nerd, Philosophy Jargon, mentions of a previous Murder, mentions of Poisoning CHAPTER SUMMARY:  Logan tell Patton how he met Virgil.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: And we’re introduced to Logan! :D This chapter is shorter than the Roman introduction, but it should still bring excitement for people to want to learn how xe died. That’s a weird sentence. lol And yes, xe not he. Logan has had a number of changes with this update and I’m very pleased with them, so I hope everyone else is too. Also, this chapter is PG, so that’s good! Have fun reading everyone! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me a Ko-Fi!

Patton squeaked and stood up straighter. For some reason, this person gave off a cold and aloof aura. Much different from the warmth and passion that radiated from Roman.

“You— You must be the second of Virgil’s husbands?”

“Spouses,” the second ghost immediately corrected. His lips curled into a slight scowl. It was pretty intimidating to say the least, especially with how tall he seemed to be. “While I do not completely mind being considered his…’husband,’ I would prefer to be called his spouse. Also my pronouns call be he/him, but I would prefer xe/xyr.”

“O-Oh!” Patton blushed, feeling bad he accidentally misgendered another person. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean—”

“Since this is our first encounter and it was merely an accident, I’ll let it slide.” xe told the confectioner while marching toward him, maintaining a good distance. “However, should we encounter each other again multiple times after this, and you still continue to misuse my pronouns, I can guarantee I will not be so friendly.”

Patton gulped. “Got it.”

Xe held out a hand for him. “Logan Oxford. Esteemed novelist and self-admitted astrophile.”

The confectioner didn’t know what half of those words meant. “U-Uhm,” he shakes Logan’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mx. Oxford.”

“Logan, please. No need for formalities.”

He nodded. Now that he thinks about it, Patton has heard the name Logan Oxford before. His cousin Emile brought xem up a couple of times when he talked about therapy (while still keeping patient confidentiality, obviously). He mentioned how xyr essays were really good, but they seemed a little too…stuffy, for his personal tastes (like most scientists/doctors/philosophers/etc).

Now meeting xem for the first time, he can understand why Emile said that.

While Roman had on very bold, fancy colors: reds and whites and golds, Logan was a stark contrast to that. Similar to his own palette but not quite. Xe had on a dark blue dress coat with a white button-up underneath it, along with black suit pants and dark brown dress shoes. A little bit of gold was on his buttons and cuff links, but other than that, the colors xe wore were predominantly dark.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of differences between he and Logan. The novelist had dark eyes while he had baby blue. Logan had straight, gelled black hair while he had strawberry blonde curls. A medium build with a good amount of muscle as opposed to a soft curvy build with a bit of chub. A sharp face as opposed to a rounded one. Square glasses as opposed to rounded lenses.

Regardless, xe were a very clean-looking individual. Perhaps even handsome in xyr own right, much like Virgil was.

“I suppose you’re wanting to warn me about Virgil too?” he asks.

“Is that not why you’re here?” Logan responds. “Or were you just wanting to put your nose into the affairs of a relatively wealthy man?”

Patton pouted. He didn’t have to be rude about it!

“But yes,” the novelist says immediately after. “I am here to also warn you about the dangers of Mr. Virgil Nyx of 613 Rue Morgue.”

“Well take your time. I’m not here to rush you.”

“I appreciate your concerns, but my past before Mr. Nyx is easy to discuss,” Logan tells him.

The confectioner nods, listening to him attentively.

“Growing up as a child, my father was a firm believer of knowledge,” Xe began. “He always believed that it was an incomparably valuable, multipurpose tool, instrumental in identifying and solving any of the world’s problems.” Dark blue eyes casted themselves over to the books. “One of the things he used to tell me was, “If you are ever worried about getting hurt, then seek knowledge. It is our greatest weapon, and our greatest defense.” And so, with that, my ever-growing thirst began.”

Xe went on, “I scoured for any form of knowledge, be that books or even educative television, wherever I could find it, I absorbed it entirely. I read every book from both my father and Ye Ye, every book from the libraries— primary school, the public one, university— etcetera. All of it was not enough for me. I eventually received my Master’s in Philosophy and a Doctorate in Physics, wishing to expand my love of all things intellect and share it with the world.” He turns back to Patton. “Before my graduation, I had published a few theses that were eventually used at other prestigious universities; and afterward, I had written a book or two, which resulted in my rise to celebrity.”

Patton nodded. Then he asked, “Had you known about Virgil before you met him?”

“I was aware of him, yes.” the novelist’s lips thinned into a firm line. “I had heard about the…supposed suicide of Roman Scarlet, famed Broadway actor and beloved performer of the Storytime lounge. I had also heard of his brother’s desire to take Virgil to court without any proof of murderous intent, I believe he was even in contact with a lawyer despite this.”

The confectioner looked at xem in surprise. “Even when he didn’t have evidence, his brother had contact with a lawyer about wanting to see if Virgil could be charged with murder?”

“Indeed.” Logan nodded. “At first, I read it off as some silly story for revenge, not exactly understanding how that was actually the truth.”

Patton nodded. “So…Did you meet him at a book signing or…?”

Logan didn’t say anything of the longest time. When xe did, it was very vague-sounding. “When I met Virgil…well, let’s just say it was…a strange sense of irony.”

…

If he could, Virgil would have openly spat about how much he did not want to be here. When he became as wealthy as he is, he swore up and down that he would never return to this place, return to the old life he lived before he knew what it was like to have money.

And yet, here he was, walking into a familiar-looking bookstore. The name re-entering his mind like he hadn’t shoved it out oh so many years ago.

Catching his eye was the small clump of beings standing outside its old, paint-chipped door; maybe the line won’t be as long as he thought. However, he quickly (and unfortunately) realized that the clump of people outside stood at the end of a line that snaked through the entire store.

Everyone and their mother apparently wanted to meet Logan Oxford today of all days.

He should’ve expected this, and yet, he didn’t. Idiot.

Actual anxiety slowly began to seize his being as he continued to approach. Everyone seemed to have a book clutched in their hands. Most were the newest release that came just before the holidays, while some seemed to be personally chosen titles by the older audience, and then there were even books of essays that were held and gossiped about by students (or who Virgil assumed to be university students).

By the time the line actually started moving, Virgil felt sweat starting to coat his palms. He let out a noise of annoyance and shoved them into his pockets.

He was not going to let his stupid anxiety ruin this chance for him. He wasn’t!

Walking in, the little jingle of the bell above sounded like the heavy dong of a church one.

Virgil forced himself to look around. This cozy little hellhole remained the same even after almost a decade. (He even forced himself to wonder if the old owner was still here. Probably not. Maybe retired. Or dead.)

The lighting was still bad, but it gave the small interior of the store its warm glow; the carpeting was still old fashioned and had that untraceable smell to it; the chairs scattered about the store were all patchy and worn-down; the wooden tables had scratch marks and random-ass messages that people carved in with pencil; and there were still crazy knickknacks and antiques hanging from the walls or seen from the shelves.

For the widower, this place was a walk-in nightmare, like walking into someone’s grandmother’s house. But for the many customers who come and go daily, it was a little spot of comfort.

Silver-grey eyes eventually found the prize he was looking for.

Logan Oxford sat at a small table with a pen in xyr hand. The writer smiled very thinly up at an admirer as xe handed back their book from across the table.

A thousand little details flooded Virgil’s mind all at once. A full mouth that could be expressive if it wasn’t so clearly behind a reserved wall. A face that was as sharp as Roman’s but it was much more angular. Rich, dark eyes that almost seemed black: dark and mysterious, they looked like they were pulled from the night sky. Slicked back hair that would still be considered neat without all that damn hair gel.

Xe were more than attractive than the widower realized. Perfect for being his next target.

Just before it was his turn, he saw a stand full of Logan’s books, all new and old alike. Making sure no one was looking, he snagged a copy before making his way towards the novelist.

The novelist took the book without even saying anything, not even so much as a polite hello. Xe flipped it open to the first page and started to scribble on the first page with blue ink.

Virgil looked down at the book he grabbed and an idea sparked in his mind. He cleared his throat, but not loud enough to cause a scene. “Mx. Oxford?” he pretended to sound eager. “I know you’ve probably heard this before, but your philosophy essays are so fascinating.”

“You are correct, I have heard it before.” xe said. Dark eyes flashed up at him, a brow quirked and his expression monotone. “Do you have a particular question you’d like to ask me?”

He nodded. “Actually, I do…Do you believe that your field of study has been hindered by the teachings of Aristotle, or are you one of those science-y people who just nod and continuously say he’s right without any substantial proof?”

At that, Logan’s head shot up. “…beg pardon?” Xe were a little stunned by the question being asked of him.

“Do you agree with Aristotle’s teachings, yes or no?” Virgil asked again, a tiny bit amused as he made the novelist react in such a way.

Xe cleared xyr throat, trying to regain some composure. “W-Well,” he stammered. “In the case of Aristotle…the man was usually wrong. A lot. Most of his descriptions of the natural world are some variety of incorrect,” xe tell him. “Looking past his blatant sexism, his understanding of motion and forces is wrong, is astronomy is wrong, a good portion of his biology is busted, and science has in fact suffered for it. For almost 2,000 years to be specific.”

The widower hummed. (Truth be told, he hated philosophy. It was basically a bunch of old guys trying to preach certain ethics and ideologies that would eventually become outdated and criticized.) Nevertheless, he wanted to know what Logan thought about it.

“However,” Logan continued, a glimmer of something sparkling in his eyes. “It wasn’t until the 1800s when the atom was officially declared A Thing, that people began to believe his contemporary, Democritus, as opposed to himself.” Xe snort. “Not to mention, according to Cicero, his prose was apparently a flowing river of gold…when it actually was not. And it was because of him that we not only lost science but also a catastrophic amount of classical literature.”

“So in actuality, his works are basically glorified lecture-notes from his students?” Virgil smirks faintly. “I guess you know now why we should’ve listened to Gorgias instead.”

“Gorgias?” Xe ask, looking at him incredulously. “The man was, excuse my Greek, a pathological pain the ass. He didn’t care for objective truth and stated that everything was a matter of opinion, which was always bendable.”

“Exactly!” Virgil smirks more. “Everything is a construct, therefore we tried and failed. So now all we need to do is to hide under the covers until the sun goes away.” With that, the widower takes his autographed book and begins to leave the store.

“Falsehood!” A screech came from behind him, making him jump. He turns around to see the novelist get up and stride over to him, a sharp look in his eyes. The widower immediately stood straighter. Damn…that glare reminds him of a certain someone that he does not wish to remember right now. “Just because Gorgias was able to obliterate Stephanos of Thebes with straw-man arguments and casual fallacies, does not mean you can, Diogenes the Cynic.”

Virgil blinked. “…Diogenes the Cynic?” he echoed.

“Yes,” Logan says. “A philosopher who believed that all Sophists were liars, the Philosophers were too pretentious, therefore taking immense pleasure in poking fun at their logic.”

The widower pondered thoughtfully. “…yep. That sounds like us just now.” A glint of wicked humor shone in his eyes as Logan just looked done with him. “But in all seriousness, Mx. Oxford. You have to realize that philosophy can be a bit asinine, right?”

Logan stayed silent for a moment before breathing out. “I suppose so,” xe states. “All of the big, complex ideas simply come from those who are fallible and prone to…ridiculousness. For every Plato’s Republic, there is a Diogenes urinating at a banquet table.”

“There you go,” Virgil laughs. “I hope you really didn’t get offended by what I said. I like presenting counterarguments just to see how people react.”

“No harm done. Although I must admit, while I don’t particularly enjoy socializing with others all that much,” Hard same. “I would like to talk to you more. Maybe about science-based media— or whatever it is you’re a fan of?”

Virgil nodded, smirking internally. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I would like to challenge your claims on what you call cognitive distortions. As someone who has generalized anxiety, I wanna know what your psychology thinks about my over-reactionary mind.”

Logan hummed in interest. “Oh? I look forward to it then, Mr…?”

“Nyx. Virgil Nyx.”

“Mr. Nyx.” Named after the Roman Goddess of the Night, the novelist mused. Xe liked it. Xe scribbled something onto the back of a bookmark, handing it to Virgil. “Again, thank you very much for coming and I hope to communicate with you again soon.”

“See ya.”

With a finger salute, Virgil left the bookstore with a sigh of relief. He was quite glad that his anxiety didn’t make him look the a fool and that he was out of that atrocious place. He opened the book and saw the fancy penmanship of the novelist.

On the bookmark, was his phone number.

He smirked. Maybe he did succeed after all…

…

Patton listed as Logan finished telling him about xyr first meeting with Virgil. He had to admit, it was rather nice to not listen to any…graphic details about things he didn’t want to know, even if Roman told him in a vague manner.

“So how did you stay close with Virgil?” he asked, remembering the questions he presented Roman. “You gave him your number; did you call each other on the phone? Or did you both kept meeting at the bookstore.”

Logan shook xyrs head. “No. However, I would invite him out for some coffee if I was in the area. And every time we did so, we would always have little discussions that would turn into…not-so-little discussions after a period of time…”

Patton raised an eyebrow, smiling knowingly.

The novelist scowled. “We did not argue, if that is what you’re thinking! We…debated, that’s much more civil.” The confectioner giggled but allowed him to continue. “And, while I’m not a traditionally…emotional person…it was quite nice to have someone debate on certain subjects with me, even if they tended to hiss at me from time to time.”

Despite this slowly becoming a sad tale, Patton giggled again. He won’t lie, Virgil did act like a cat every once in a while. It was actually kinda cute (you know…despite the fact he murdered three people…).

“I would also take him to any conferences or panels that I would be invited to attend or speak at,” xe told him. “He would act as my plus one, if you will. I must admit, even if I could manage them on my own, it was…almost beneficial for me to have him around during those events.” Xe chuckled. “I say this despite the fact that he detested such things, as they tended to prompt his anxiety and cause him to rudely hiss whenever someone— and I quote— “reached his limits with stupid questions.” Not only that, he was not primarily invested in the actual subjects of said discussions and was more interested in the catering they served.”

That caused Patton to actually laugh. That also seems like something that Virgil would do, though he doesn’t blame him at all. In fact, if he were in his shoes, he would be a bit more curious in the food too.

Logan couldn’t help xyr lips from twitching upwards. “I shall confess, there were times where I myself have agreed with his sentiments.”

Unfortunately, the smiles and laughter had to end at some point.

“But what happened afterward?” Patton eventually asked. “What caused everything to go downhill?”

The little twitch of a smile instantly when back to a frown. The confectioner sees xem turn to grab a book that was suddenly on the table (when did that get there anyhow?). It was a very beautiful looking book: dark indigo in color with a title that he couldn’t quite make out, but he could see Logan’s name at the very top. Xe opened the book, flipping it to the very last pages before handing it to Patton.

‘ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS’ Baby blue eyes skimmed through the short paragraphs of text. Logan gave simple but kind words as xe thanked the people who helped xem achieve such a feat, such as his parents and former professors.

Then he followed to where the novelist had pointed a finger at.

“Lastly, I would like to give acknowledgments to my husband, Virgil Nyx.

While we have not known each other long, and have newly become married, but having your support throughout this journey was momentous for someone like me to complete this project. Your harsh and honest (almost too honest) criticisms of my work were what kept me going to make and achieve better than my means. And while I am not an emotional person, nor do I express my emotions often, I quiet enjoyed having your company while I wrote and rewrote my rough and final drafts… And I must thank you for bring me my favorite green teas and jellied biscuits whenever I hadn’t eaten or drank anything for hours on end.

This is the most I have genuinely praised someone so highly (and also a first), but it cannot be helped. I truly hope you see the appreciation and respect I fester for you.”

Patton couldn’t help but tear up. To Logan, they may appear simple, but they were also so beautiful.

“As you’ve read, by the time I had written my last book, Virgil had become my spouse.” Logan says. “We were married in a simple ceremony. Something that was vastly different from Roman’s grandiose nuptials.”

Patton giggled. It was amusing with how Logan was poking fun at Roman from beyond the grave. (In an almost magical way, he could almost hear an indignant noise in his ear).

“But,” Logan’s face grew sad, almost angry. “That did not last long, unfortunately. I had quickly fallen for Virgil’s rouses like the one before me. And, like him, I was met with an unfortunate end.” A deep, almost tired sigh. “To think, someone like him could have been two steps ahead of me in a metaphorical game of chess…I must say, it was truly a checkmate on his end.”

“Him murdering you, you mean?” Patton asked, fearing the answer Logan will give him. Silence. A very familiar silence.

Then, Logan nodded. “Yes. Although, poisoning is the correct terminology this time around.”