#the one with his hair swept back with a hairband...........

[raapija]

Sequel to Fernando's football career:

[123pixieaod]

pilot!Max x backpacker!Daniel 👨‍✈️✈️💼

Part One; Part Two; Part Three; Part Four; Part Five;

"What do you mean the bus is full?" Lando barks, arms crossed.

The driver doesn't reply. He just stares Lando down, no doubt taking in their fifty pound differences.

"I don't think you understand", Sebastian wades in, clamping a hand on Lando's shoulder as if to hold him back. "We're the crew."

"The crew", the man repeats, the same way Max might repeat Lando's declaration that he should fly the plane today, or Sebastian's musings that he might retire next year. Yeah, right. The crew.

"I'm the captain", Sebastian begins in his soft, soothing tone. "This is -"

"The captain?" The driver sneers, looking at Sebastian's dirty sneakers and lanky blonde hair swept out of his face by a faded hairband. He looks more in place in a 1980's Wimbeldon final then 2am in the airport carpark, desperately trying to charm his way onto the last bus which would get them to Dublin on time.

"Max is my Second Officer," Sebastian continues on, German accent rising and falling like the rolling hills Max loves to look down on. "And Lando here is our flight engineer".

Max catches Lando eye, who clearly is trying not to look chuffed with himself. He hasn't formally been told he's passed his exam to graduate from cadet to flight engineer. Well, there goes that surprise.

The driver's lip sneers, beady eyes regarding the three of them. To be honest, Max can't exactly fault his suspicions. None of them look like high-flighing pilots at Formula One Wings airline. Sebastian, as Max has already gone over, looks like somewhere between a 1980s Wimbledon champion or 1980s pornstar, but either way, not this side of the 21st century. Lando, in his designer joggers and baggy Tee, looks like some frat guy who got lost in a game of beer pong and somehow ended up in the back-arse of Europe. And Max just looks... boring, he supposes. More suited behind a computer, sat at a desk for the rest of his life. Earth-child, not sky-bound.

"If we miss the flight we're meant to be captaining because the plane got diverted to another airport but some driver doesn't believe our story, I doubt F1 wings will be pleased," Lando says, wielding his 'a year at my private school costs the same as your house' tone. Thank fuck he's picked up enough self-preservation to resist doing it around Max.

The driver's lips thin. Lando smirks and even Sabatian looks pleased. After a beat, they go onto the bus.

-

Sebastian and Lando, the bastards, grab the two free seats beside each other. They manage to give Max a sympathetic look as he rolls his eyes, stumbling done the thin bus aisle to find one final seat free. He's lugging his backpack, packed neatly the night before with his uniform and the still untouched "Flying High: Top 100 Lifelessons From Pilots!" book his dad got him for Christmas.

The bus driver jolts the bus forward, clearly intend on at least giving Max mild concussion for all the hassle he's caused him. Max staggers, grabbing blindly at the chair rests and corner of suitcases precariously balanced down the aisle.

He can only just make out the vaguest sizes and shapes in the darkness, and it takes him far longer than he would like to admit to finally find the free chair. A guy is slumped at the window seat, his legs stretched over the seat beside him, feet dangling of the edge. Max tries to gently wake him, but when the bus driver takes a roundabout with aggression that seems a tad overzealous and Max only just keeps his balance, he roughly shakes the guys' shoulders.

"Hey", he hisses. "Move."

The guy makes a wonderfully undignified "whhugh?" sound before hastily sitting upright, swinging his legs back. Max quickly slides into the free seat just as the driver takes a gentle curve in the road like he's in the Mad Max franchise.

"Fucking hell this driver " the man whispers as Max tries to clip in his seat belt in the dark.

"Sorry", the man tries again. "Didn't mean to conk out on you. Just the fucking change of departure is really the last thing I need," he laughs, a soft, musical sound. Max turns his head, but can only just make out the darkness of his body, the vaguest shape of him. No distinguishable features, no personable details. Just a shadow and the faintest hint of sandlewood and a soft, accented voice.

"Tell me about it," Max says, looking down at his lap. He pressed his fingertips to his sleeve, grounding the lack of visibility in touch.

"What do you think happened?"

"Air traffick control in France unexpectedly hindered the current schedule of the Irish long-haul flights, thus forcing all previous departures around the country to be moved to Dublin." He recites it perfectly, the impersonal email they were all sent one hour ago still fresh in his mind. Fucking French traffick control, fucking up Max’s sleep schedule, like he has fuck all to do with their pay.

The guy exhales. "Well, a little warning would've been nice. I had to sell an arm and a leg to try and get a ticket which would get me to Dublin airport in time. Do you think F1 wings will compensate us?"

Max shrugs, even though the guy can't see him. "Probably not. But who knows, maybe the cabin crew will be late too, and there'll be no pilots around to fly anyway.'

The guy snorts. "Yeah right, as if F1 Wings doesn't send like private drivers or jets or something for their pilots when shit like this happens."

Max smiles in the darkness. F1 Wings couldn't really give a shit about their pilots. They only care if something goes wrong or something goes right - complaints of misconduct, a heroic save, anything beyond the usual and then F1 Wings care. They'll care if him, Sebastian and Lando don't get to Dublin in time for the scheduled departure of their flight. Even though the airline barely lifted a finger to help them, if something goes wrong, then Max knows for sure who'll get the blame.

"So where are you flying to?" The man asks after a beat. Max is surprised, the guy sounds tired, and Max had just assumed he'd go straight back to sleep.

"Qatar," he answers honestly, and then man huffs a soft laugh.

"No way! Me too, at 7, right?" Even though its a question, he doesn't leave time for Max to answer. "What are the chances! What are you going for Qatar for?"

"Work", Max states. He's learned it's just easier not to tell people he's a pilot in scenarios like these. They ask questions he probably shouldn't answer (like why he wanted to become a pilot), request for better meals (as if he has an iota of influence on the catering of the flight), or simply just talking his ear off about their flight simulator game they play at home. It's easier to just be a nobody.

"Sick", the man says, enthuasm undeterred by Max's sparse responses. "I have a layover there for 5 hours, and then flying on to Vietnam."

Max nods. He's flown that run a few times, but mainly under Sebastian's mentorship when he was still a cadet.

"You going home from there?" He asks, and the man makes a questioning noise.

"To Australia?" Max amends.

"Oh, yeah no. Maybe after Asia, but probs not," for the first time, his tone is more somber. He doesn't offer any explanation, and Max knows better then to ask.

"I mean, I know my accent is pretty clear cut," he laughs, momentary beat of quietness quickly shunned. "But your accent is less so. German?"

"Dutch."

"Ah, my second guess!" The man says, and Max can hear his smile.

"I'm Max", Max blurts out before he can doubt himself.

"Daniel," the stranger-no-more says. Something moves against Max's knee, and the man - Daniel - huffs another soft laugh.

"Sorry, I'm looking for your hand to shake."

Part Two!

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Nine

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.3k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @legolasbadass @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Thankfully, the sun broke through the clouds and the brisk wind swept the storms out overnight. Nina lifted her face to the warm rays as she emerged from the damp cave. The chills were gone. She’d actually slept fairly well. And now they were very near the base of the mountains on eastern side. With any luck, the worst of the journey was behind them. 

The dull thud of boots on damp earth reached her ears and she turned as Thorin stepped out into the sunlight alongside her. “How do you fare this morning, Miss Nina?”

“I’m dry. And warm finally.” She held out his oilskin. “And I thank you for this.”

“Of course.”

“Is Dwalin joining us sometime this morning?”

To her surprise, he smiled. “I see you feel the same hostility toward him as he does you.”

She shrugged. “I give as good as I get.”

“As I said, he takes his duty seriously.”

“And as I told him last eve, if I’d wanted you dead, you’d both be dead by now.”

“Last eve?” Thorin’s smile faded. “When did you tell him this?”

“While you were brooding over here.”

“Brooding?” He glanced over in the direction she pointed. “I was not brooding.”

“If you say so, but it certainly looked that way.” She lifted her bedroll and moved to her pony to fasten it to the saddle. “What was on your mind?”

“Nothing you need worry about.”

“Ahh… you keep your brooding to yourself. Good.” She swung up onto the pony’s back.

“I do not brood.”

“Thorin, you were staring off into the dark forever.” She affixed him with a long look. “That’s brooding.”

“I was thinking.”

“You were brooding. It’s all right. You can admit it.”

He scowled. “There is nothing to admit. Dwalin! Where are you?”

“I’m coming. No need to holler at me, ye know.” Dwalin emerged from the cave, what remained of his dark hair poked up at odd angles and dark smudges shadowed below his eyes. He looked as if he’d been awake all night and she wondered if it was because he had himself convinced she was going to run them both through while they slept.

“No offense, but you look awful,” Thorin told him bluntly.

“Thank ye. I appreciate that.”

“Did you not sleep?”

“No, if ye must know. I didn’t.” Dwalin climbed into his saddle and there was no mistaking the darkness in his glare as he turned it on her. “Someone had to keep watch.”

“Keep watch?” Thorin swung up into his saddle and gathered the reins. “Over what? There was no one to worry about.”

“Aye, there was one.” Dwalin bobbed his head in her direction. 

Thorin glanced at her, then rolled his eyes. “Have you gone mad, Dwalin? I thought you were  joking, Miss Nina. You really told him that?”

She shrugged. “I did, yes. And it’s true. I’ve had plenty of opportunity to do you both harm and yet,” she shot Dwalin a pointed look, “you’re both fine. It’s almost as if someone has misjudged me and isn’t man enough to admit it.”

She didn't wait for either of them to respond, but clicked her tongue against her teeth and guided her pony back toward the road, smiling as she heard Thorin growl, “Would you stop already?”

Her smile faded then as Dwalin replied, “I’ll do no such thing. Perhaps you are swayed by a pretty face, Thorin. But I can promise you, I am not and I dinna trust her. Something is off. I just cannot put my finger on what that something is.”

“That something is that you’re letting your imagination run wild with you, my friend.” 

“We shall see.”

“We shall, indeed.” 

With a quickened clop of hooves, Thorin and his pony caught up to her. “I should apologize for him.”

“There’s no need,” she told him, shaking her head as she met his gaze. “I understand it. As you said, he takes his duties seriously. And it takes far more than that to get under my skin.”

“Just the same—”

“I expect no less from your bodyguard.” She smiled, glancing over her shoulder to find Dwalin directly behind her, his scowl firmly in place. “And besides, he doesn’t frighten me.”

She turned back to Thorin. “And he will eat his words when you both return to Erebor alive and well and in one piece. But, if he’s nice, I might let him season them first.”

“What was that?” Dwalin called back. “What did ye say?”

“She said you don't frighten her.”

“Don’t frighten her, eh? Well, she hadn’t given me a reason to. Yet.”

Nina bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Enough.” A heavy sigh wove through Thorin’s voice. “Let’s move, shall we? We still have to reach the river and cross it before we reach Mirkwood’s border.”

He didn't wait for either of them to answer, but urged his pony onward and she and Dwalin fell into step as well. 

All in all, it was a mostly pleasant morning and by the time they reached the Anduin River, the sun was high overhead, drying out most of the narrow, rutted road. 

At the river itself, there was no bridge but Thorin led the way to the Old Ford, where they could cross. Although she’d heard of it, Nina had never seen this crossing of large, flat rocks and she hesitated at the river’s edge. 

“What is the matter?”

She looked up at Dwalin, ahead of her now, and said, “I know it’s safe, but…”

For the first time since meeting him, Dwalin’s eyes were not frosty slivers of blue-gray ice. “Ye can cross. Ye saw Thorin do it.”

Idiocy swirled through her. “I know, but I cannot seem to make myself understand.”

He sighed as he swung down from his pony and holding the reins in one hand, came up to catch her pony by its halter. “Just sit back,” he said, urging her pony to move. He walked between them, the ford just barely wide enough, and when they reached the other side, he said, “Shall we keep moving?”

Thorin arched a single brow, but all he said was, “It’s probably best.”

And so on they went. The trees of Mirkwood appeared on the horizon, dark and almost foreboding. Thorin led them from the main road, to what he called ‘the elf-path’ which appeared to be so narrow and overgrown, surely it would be impassable. 

However, it must have been an enchanted road, for once they were upon it, the overgrowth appeared to have receded and although it grew no wider, the ruts and divots smoothed out a bit. 

The air felt different as they drew near the wood that was so thick, the trees appeared to form actual walls and as the sky grew softly purple and stars sparkled against it, an elf with long, sleek dark hair held away from his angular face with a band of gold and twigs, appeared as if from nowhere.

“Kindly state your business.”

Thorin remained in his saddle. “Tell His Highness King Thorin of Erebor has arrived with two guests. Lord Elrond should have sent word of our arrival.”

The elf bobbed his head. “He has, yes.” He looked from Thorin to Dwalin and when his gaze alit on her, a strange chill rippled through her. The elf’s eyes briefly widened, but then just as quickly returned to normal as he said, “If you will but follow me.”

Three more elves appeared and for a moment, Nina thought they were about to be taken as prisoners, but then Thorin swung from his saddle and Dwalin did the same. Both dwarves surrendered their ponies and, feeling a bit foolish from her paranoid thoughts, she did the same, offering up a wan smile at the elf who reached for her reins. “Thank you.”

“Of course. But,” he nodded toward the retreating dwarves, “you should catch up with your party. These woods are not safe at night.”

“Thank you again.” She stepped around her pony, paused to give its velvety nose a quick scritch, then hurried to catch up with the others before she became lost. 

Although she had heard of Mirkwood, she’d never been near it, never mind inside it, and it was like being lost in the thickest, densest, most uncomfortable forest imaginable. Leaves rustled from unseen creatures passing through, and although there were familiar sounds, every now and then, she’d hear something that just sounded… off… She couldn't explain it, but just felt it. As a result, she kept a close eye on Thorin, almost wishing she could slip her hand into his, as if that would protect her from this foreboding wood.

But that was silly. He wouldn’t protect her, even if she needed it. He was most likely just as suspicious of her as Dwalin was, for he would no doubt certainly trust his lieutenant’s caution. 

The path they walked along was narrow, strewn with crispy brown dead leaves and underbrush, twisted roots of trees that also looked half-dead rose marred the earth and the air was heavy with the scent of wet leaves. Nina felt as if her every step was being watched from something hidden amongst the trees and bushes, but whatever it was, it camouflaged itself perfectly, for all she saw were those trees and vines and felled limbs and logs.

A soft gold light appeared at the far end of the path and as they crossed over a swiftly moving stream, some of the heaviness left the air. They passed beneath an arch of elegantly entwined branches and vines and the heaviness vanished completely as a door swung shut behind them. 

The elf at the head of the line led them along an open wooded walkway and Nina tried not to look to either side, for it was a sheer drop into darkness and each time her gaze wandered that way, she stumbled. She would have fallen the final time, if Dwalin had not snagged her arm as she pitched forward.

“Take care,” he growled, righting her. “I dinna know what is to be found in those depths.”

Her stomach pitched as she nodded. “I know. I beg your pardon.”

“Dinna look down.”

“I’m trying not to,” she gritted, her jaw clenched as the urge to to do just that swept though her again.

With a gusty sigh, Dwalin caught her around the waist and pulled her almost flush against him. “Keep up.”

“I will.” She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

He grunted in return and as they came off the walkway and into an elegant throne room, he released her. “I think yer safe now.”

“Again, thank you.” She righted herself as Thorin moved closer to an elaborate dais of of woven vines and wood made to look very much like one of the trees around them. It was at least fifteen feet above them, possibly more, and at the summit, atop a throne of woven vines embedded with amber and tiger’s eye, sat Thranduíl, the elvenking of Mirkwood, his sleek, white blonde hair streaming down over his shoulders, held in place by an equally elaborate crown of the now-familiar vines and encrusted with glittering topazes, amber, and tiger’s eye. 

“Thorin!” Thranduíl’s low velvety voice echoed throughout the chamber as the king rose from his seat and slowly made his way down to them. “I trust you had no trouble on your journey?”

“Nothing worse than terrible weather, thank Mahal,” he replied. “I look forward to sleeping in a real bed.”

“I’ll wager you do,” Thranduíl replied with a grin. “I have chambers readied for you, and of course a hot meal, if you are hungry.”

“It would not be turned away, no,” Thorin said, glancing at her and then Dwalin. “And I think it safe to say I speak for all of us.”

“Then, Neston, please show our guests to their chambers. Supper will be at half-eight.”

The elf who had shown them to the throne room bobbed his head. “Aye, my lord.” Then to them, he said, “Follow me, please.”

Nina tried not to stare, fought not to gape about at the rustic beauty of Mirkwood. Spring was in the air, and the trees were coming back to life in bursts of green and brilliant colors like the snowy white flowers on the weeping cherry trees, or the deep plum leaves of the maple trees. Along the walkway, shrubbery bloomed as well, as did flowers of all ilks. For so long, Mirkwood had been dying and filled with decay, at least, according to the stories her mother used to tell her and her sister at bedtime. But now? The wood seemed to be coming alive once more and Nina couldn’t help but drink in the beauty. Such a far cry from the rundown and ramshackle houses that rose above the canals of Esgaroth. 

Thorin and Dwalin were shown to their chambers, and Neston offered up a serene smile as he paused beside a third door, at the far end of the walkway. “Please let me know if you require anything, my lady.”

“Thank you.”

He pushed open the door, then pulled it shut behind her and as she sank back against it, a peaceful silence settled about her, one she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She let herself savor the silence a bit longer, then moved to unload her sword and her pack.

Her room opened onto a peaceful garden, and as she strolled out into it and settled on the wide rail of woven vines, a heavy sigh rose to her lips. Leaning her head back against a woven pillar, she let her eyes close. She had set out with one purpose—to hunt Thorin Oakenshield down and make him pay for what he did. That was it. And she fully intended to do just that.

But…

You will do this, you ninny.

Her gaze went to her sword, resting against the wall just inside the doorway. She’d been so certain she’d be able to just kill him and be done with it. 

Trouble was, she didn't expect him to be so… so…

He wasn't the arrogant, singleminded, greedy dwarf who’d unleashed a dragon upon them any longer. In the short time she’d been with him, she saw a different dwarf from that one, and now her plans weren’t quite so clear cut.

A gentle knock came at her door. “Miss Nina?”

Speak of the devil. “Come in.”

The door opened without a sound and a few minutes later, he stepped out onto the terrace. “I’ve come to see if you wish to go to supper with me and Dwalin?”

“I’m not very hungry, truth be told.”

He moved closer. “You haven’t eaten much since we left Rivendell.”

“I don't eat much to begin with.” She shrugged as she rose from her perch. “That’s what happens when you live as I do. You learn to live with little.”

“But this evening, you do not have to live with little.”

“I know.” She smiled up at him. “But, I’m honestly not very hungry. You and Dwalin should go and enjoy. I only wish to sleep.”

“That I understand.”

“You did not seem to have much trouble sleeping, though.”

“I hide it well.” He moved by her to stand at the ledge overlooking the foliage. “But I haven’t slept much in quite some time.”

“Why?”

“Many reasons.” He leaned slightly forward, bracing his fists on the woven vines. “Over the last two years, since I set out with the Company—you’ve heard me mention them, I assume?”

“Yes. They traveled with you when you set out to retake your home.”

“Yes, well… it led to things I had not expected and I did things I ordinarily would not.”

Her heart sped up at those words and without thinking, she moved closer to him. She had to be careful here, lest she give herself away. “Things?”

He nodded, but lifted his head to stare out into the thickening darkness. As much as she wanted to repeat herself, to get him to continue, she clenched her hands into fists at her sides, her fingernails biting into her palms as she struggled to remain quiet.

A low sigh leaked through his teeth as he slowly turned toward her. “Things. I—I went a bit mad, I suppose. No, not a bit. I went mad. Mad with greed. Mad with blood lust. And I hurt many along the way.”

She swallowed hard at the soft sorrow in his voice, at the hints of pain clouding his pale blue eyes. This was her chance. She could make up an excuse to go inside, grab her sword and be done with it. 

It would never be easier than now.

But she couldn’t. Instead, she looked up at him and without thinking, let her hand come to rest against his upper arm. “Why?”

“When a dragon claims a treasure and sleeps on it for as long as Smaug slept on the treasure hoard of Erebor, it taints the treasure and… dragon sickness is a powerful thing, Miss Nina. And few come out from it. I’m not at all certain how I did, but… I’ve spent the last year trying to make amends for what I’d done. I’ve helped the people of Dale and those of Esgaroth.”

“What?” She fought to keep the astonishment from her voice, but she had no idea he’d done anything but destroy her home and her family and friends.

His smile was sheepish. “I’d given my word to share the treasure of Erebor with them if they would aid us with food and supplies to get us to Erebor. And then the sickness took hold and I turned my back on them.

“So, when I emerged from the sickness, I intended to make things right, but then I was wounded in battle with orcs and that put me on my back for months. So, now, I’m still making amends. As per the last missive I received from Erebor, both Esgaroth and Dale are well on their way to being restored to their former glory.”

“Do you meant to tell me, you are rebuilding both cities?”

He nodded slowly. “I am, yes. It’s been interesting, as I am not accustomed to working so closely with Men, but Bard has turned out to be a decent enough fellow, so I think I’ve chosen wisely.”

Her mouth went dry at his words, her heart hammering her ribs with enough force that it sent the blood pounding through her temples as well. That was the very last thing she ever expected him to say and for a moment, hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She swallowed hard, fighting to blink them back. “You—you are rebuilding… and the people? Have you helped them as well?”

“Absolutely.” He bobbed his head, even as his brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“It just… I remember hearing about the Mad King Under the Mountain but not much else.”

“The Mad King.” He offered up another sheepish smile. “That moniker fit me perfectly and was much deserved. But yes, I have done whatever I could. There is still much to be done, but as long as I am king, they will be looked after until the rebuilding is complete.”

“That… that’s kind of you.” 

“Kind? I suppose it could be, but I do it not out of altruism, but to assuage my own guilt, I suppose. I ruined many lives when we drove Smaug out of Erebor. And although unleashing him upon Esgaroth was never my intention, it was still my fault. And because of that, it was up to me to honor my word. So, that’s what I’ve been doing. 

“But tell me something,” he continued, drawing himself up to his full height, which was several inches taller than her, “why did you not tell me you were from Esgaroth?”

[queen-scribbles]

how about close and/or tug, for the Wayhaven pair of your choosing (or anyone else you'd like 😉)

*shows up nine months later with Dunkin and fic*

Close fill for Mallory/Adam, post-book 3 (grab your popcorn) ---

Pulling Punches

Mallory had thought she timed it right to be the only one in the training room.

She'd thought wrong.

"Agent," Adam greeted her, only half turning from the dummy he was practicing against.

"Only when I'm on duty," Mallory muttered as she shrugged off her jacket and started to wrap her hands. The annoyance was more at herself for guessing wrong--and the odd leap her heart did seeing him here--than him for the greeting.

"Which is, in a sense, all times," Adam countered, completing his turn toward her and clasping his hands behind his back. "Would you care for a partner, Mallory?"

She crossed her arms at the deliberate pause before he said her name. "For sparring, or did you have something else in mind?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched, the only reaction to her verbal jab. "Sparring, of course. That is why we're both here, is it not?"

"I wouldn't want to keep you, if you were finishing."

"I'm hardly worn out," Adam said, glint of amusement in his eyes. And it was true; however long he'd been at this, there was only a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, faint stains dampening the back of his t-shirt. He wasn't even out of breath. "And I would do what I can to assist you."

She did prefer sparring with an opponent to hitting a punching bag. More fun if she had to strategize and react. And she'd never gotten to hit Bobby after he broke her heart.

Of course, given how their last few training sessions had gone, she wouldn't get to really hit Adam, either. But maybe just trying would be cathartic. Wasn't like she'd hurt him even if she did land a punch.

It annoyed her how much that last point mattered.

"Yeah, alright," Mallory nodded, reaching up to check the hairband around her bun was secure. "Ready?"

"When you are," Adam said, inclining his head.

She sized him up and lunged forward, already swinging. It wasn't surprising when he knocked away both the punch and its follow-up. But he also dodged the sweep at his ankles she'd been trying to distract him from.

"Very good." A genuine smile curved his lips. "So long as you don't overextend yourself, such a combination is a smart choice. Keep your opponent's attention divided."

Something prickled in her chest at him talking like an instructor, detached, when he was--and should be--so much more to her. "Creating weaknesses to exploit?"

She kicked at the back of his knee, pivoted and felt her elbow strike glance off his ribs as he twisted out of the way.

"Or take advantage of exisiting ones." He raised an arm to deflect a punch, swept her feet using the momentum.

Mallory hit the mats, growled as she rolled back to her feet, immediately ducking under a kick. "And that's why you try not to have- any-." She punctuated the words with two more swings. Adam was silent, but Mallory was pretty damn sure it wasn't through any luck or skill of her own that both hits connected with his abdomen. "Trying to avoid getting hurt?"

Like you hurt me. She only just kept from saying it.

"To protect myself and others, yes," Adam said, blocking her next strike easily. "I have a responsibility to the team." He twisted to pin her arm behind her. "I cannot--"

"Show weakness?" Mallory bit out, swiveling in the heartbeat his grip loosened to pull free. She slammed the heel of her hand up into his shoulder joint, hoping to unbalance him.

She didn't. "Have them," Adam corrected.

Mallory snorted and huffed loose tendril of hair out of her face. "Well, that's bull. I know you care about the team, or protecting us wouldn't mean so much." She swung, he dodged. "Are you you trying to tell me Mason and Felix aren't weaknesses, by that metric?" Another swing, deflected this time, and she gave a breathless, sardonic laugh. "Hell, you've been best friends with Nate for three bloody centuries, Adam. D'you really expect me to believe it wouldn't hurt you if something happened to him?!" She kicked at his hip and almost fell when he braced to take it rather than avoid as she'd anticipated.

Adam caught her ankle. "That is not the same," he bit out, tugging on her leg just enough to unbalance her.

She hit the mats with a curse, tasted blood from biting her lip as she sprang back to her feet. "How?"

She knew, and if he said it, God help her, she was going to punch him in the face.

A strange vulnerability flickered in Adam's eyes, chest heaving with a breath. "He is not mortal, Mallory. None of them are."

"And I'm not fragile!!" she spat, launching herself at him again.

He caught the punch, easily keeping her at arms' length as he swiveled. "Yes, you are." The words were steady, implacable, and just a hint pained. "Compared to us, you are."

"And yet I'm still bloody here!" She tugged on the trapped wrist, swung with the other hand when he didn't let go. "Despite the danger, despite the fact you can be the most arrogant, condescending, stubborn--"

"Stubborn?" Adam interjected, giving her a significant look as he caught her other wrist in the same hand as well.

"Guess we're made for each other," Mallory retorted, yanking her hands free. He let her. "Except in that case, you're being stubborn in the wrong direction. I thought fear made us fighters, so why are you giving up so easily?!"

Rather than swing at him, she crowded into his space, breathing hard, as she made the demand. It hung in the air as Adam ran a gaze over her, as a muscle in his jaw twitched when that gaze lingered on her lips before returning to her eyes. As he held her gaze for several long seconds.

"Because I have already lost everything once," he finally said, level, quiet. Hollow. "I would not care do it again."

She swallowed hard, Tu omnia burning bright in her thoughts.

'You are everything'.

But she was not letting it go. He didn't get to break both their hearts and pretend it was the right thing, the noble thing, to do.

"So you're going to lose it to surrendering instead?" Mallory said bluntly, rolling her shoulders as she stepped back to resume sparring.

Adam's jaw tightened. "I am not-"

"You are!" She brought her hands up, fingers curling. "You're giving up even if I haven't!"

He frowned, emotion gleaming in his eyes. "You don't know what it feels like, Mallory, I cannot allow--"

"Don't tell me what to do!!" she yelled, frustration boiling over in a wild punch. "Just b'cause you don't want to fight f--" Another punch.

Adam caught both, one wrist in each hand, grip gentle but unyielding "I have seen the cost of fighting to follow my emotions. I would spare you that." He swept her feet from under her, following down to pin her to the mat, one knee by her hip and a hand still around each wrist. "My parents, my brothers, my sister, my friends, everything." He held her gaze, both breathing hard. "I have borne that for nine hundred years. But if I allow... us and something happened to you..." His gaze wandered her face, unfathomably sad when it met hers once again. "That I could not bear for nine minutes, let alone nine hundred years."

Mallory was silent as the words washed over her, as she caught the spark of pain and fear in his eyes. "I understand what you lost. That it hurts." She pushed herself up on her elbows, wrists still pinned, until mere centimeters separated them. "But I love you, Adam du Mortain. I am not going to stop because you're afraid..." A deep breath, the words shaking as they whisked against his skin. "...and I don't think you will, either."

He stared at her for so long she half-expected him to kiss her. Was more than half tempted to kiss him. But he pushed away, releasing her.

"It is too great a risk," he said softly, fingers tracing through the air a whisper from the edge of her jaw. This is... just for show...

"Have you forgotten how much I like risk?" Mallory challenged with a snort as she pushed to her feet. For once taller than him as he remained sitting cross-legged on the mat. "However much there is, it's worth it to me. I'm in love with you and you can't stop me. Denying that only hurts both of us." She moved to pick up her jacket and take a drink of water, swallowing hard around the lump in her throat. "Just keep that in mind."

And she strode from the room without looking back.

[the-fiction-witch]

Big Sister

Media TMR AU

Characters Newt & Sonya (Siblings)

Couple Newt X Thomas (Offscreen)

Rating Adorable 

Concept Coming Out 

I was kinda nervous as I sat on my bed. I had tried to ignore it but these things can't be swept under the rug as much as dad would like them to be. They were fighting but that was pretty normal now, dad had been working every hour he could trying to get his work more funding from the company but it wasn't going well, he hadn't been around much lately and I think that didn't help things. 

My big brother has been a little reckless lately sneaking out and getting into a lot of trouble. 

I was honestly worried about him honestly Whenever he wasn't sneaking out with his friends he often would be locked in his room doing bad things. I know he's been struggling a lot and didn't help dad pull him out of the therapy he's been in since he was fourteen. Dad eventually gave up for today and went to work, I waited a while before nervously going downstairs where newt stood in his usual jeans, brown boots, and long stained grey hoodie he was making himself a glass of orange juice and I quickly noticed the toilet roll around his ear 

"Hey newt," I smiled 

"What do you want Sonya?" He sighed 

"Just wanted some juice" I said so he grabbed a cup and poured me my own "what did you do to your ear?" 

"What do you care?" 

'"just curious"

"Tried piercing it. It didn't go well" 

"What did you use?"

"Needle?"

"Your a dumb ass"

"I know." 

"You want help cleaning it up?"

"Sure" he sighed we took our juice and went up to my room I let him sit on the stool and I peeled the layers of bloody toilet roll from his ear having to pick some off with tweezers given it had stuck to him so badly, I cleaned his ear up and made sure to rinse it with some cleaning solution giving him a little bandage 

"There, look after it" I told him

"Thanks Sonya"

"Your welcome. What's been up you and dad's ass lately anyway?"

"It's complicated"

"You know you can tell me anything newt. I'm not gonna tell on you"

"Yeah, look how well that worked last time" he says going to leave but I held his arm

"Newt I had to. You can tell me anything, our secrets but I wasn't going to keep quiet to dad about you hurting yourself" 

"And you wonder why I don't tell you things" he snapped leaving and going back to his own room slamming the door. 

I was careful and slow mostly because I know I'd hurt him, but I did my best to just make moments to spend with him. He is my brother after all. I made sure we had a conversation everyday even if it was just about milk? Or class? Or laundry? Anything at all just to make sure he felt he could talk to me like he had an opening if he wanted to talk about anything bothering him. And eventually it became routine that we'd sit together in my room and chat about things mostly unimportant but the odd thing would stumble in of importance.

"What is his problem?"

"I don't know. He just doesn't like Tommy" he sighed sitting on my bed often texting on his phone 

"I mean he's kinda dumb" I laughed sitting doing my skincare with my hairband in my hair 

"He is. But hes fun" he shrugs 

"Newt? Do you… like Tommy?"

"...... Honestly?"

"Yeah"

"Kinda. I don't know. It's… hard to explain"  

"Well I'm all ears"

"I like Tommy I really do. I mean he is utter chaos but I really like him."

"But?"

"But? I've had girlfriends before"

"So? You could be bi"

"No. That doesn't feel right"

"Well what does feel right?"

"...I think I'm gay. I think. But I liked girls before? Kinda?"

"When you dated Maggie? Did you really like her? Or were you dating her because you kinda felt like you had to"

"I guess the second one. I only asked her to the summer dance because I didn't want to go on my own. I think I liked her but I think I might have just kinda been going through the motions"

"Newt it's okay not to keep all need to try different things before we figure out what suits us just because you dated Maggie doesn't mean you're not gay. You just were figuring yourself out" 

"But what will people say?"

"Newt, do you think you're gay?"

"yesh"

"Then that's it. Doesn't matter what people think"

"What about dad?"

".... I think. Let him figure it out. You didn't have to tell him you where straight" 

"True. You think Tommy might be into me?"

"Newt? Didn't me make out with you last week"

"We were playing chicken"

"Did you like making out with him?"

"...kinda" he blushed 

"Then go for it worse thing he can say is no"

"Your right" he says hopping off my bed "thanks Sonya"

"No worries Newtie" I smiled giving him a hug 

“Bugger off” he playfully shoves heading back to his own room.

I sat putting my hair into plaits before bed when the door knocked. I knew it couldn’t be my dad given he was at work “Yeah newt?”

“Hi” He says sheepishly coming into my room “Can Uhhh Can I come in?”

“Sure,” I nodded. He came in and sat on my bed, seeming nervous holding his sleeves “Are you okay?”

“Just uhhh dealing with some stuff” He says

“You wanna talk?”

“That Okay?”

“Of course, Talk as much as you need to”

“Well, I’ve been feeling really weird lately. I can- stop thinking. I feel like I’ve been on a depressive spiral for months like… I live two lives, you know. one outside my room and one in my room.” He explained “I feel like I’m hiding so much and it takes so much effort to hide everything and I’m just so fucking tired.” 

“What do you think is that's been making you feel like this?” 

“I don’t think I know. I’ve been thinking about this alot.” 

“Well what is it that's been making you feel like this?” 

“For a while I just thought I was kinda weird, The guys were constantly talking about girls and I just never felt like I had anything to contribute to the conversation and even when I did try It just felt so forced. When me and Maggie were a thing I thought maybe I’m just young and awkward it would come in time but… it never really did.” He explained “When I met Tommy I felt a bit better, Like I didn’t have to hide quite so much from him. When I came out to him it felt really good but something still kinda felt off. I tell Tommy alot but… not everything.” he says “But as things went on, and we started talking about stuff, and he showed me some things but everything just kinda felt weird” he explained “But everything was going okay until a couple weeks ago”

“What happened?”

“Well…” he blushed a little. “Me and Tommy got a little… Physical. And I liked it. I really really did! But… I came home and just kinda laid there. I felt really strange about it all”

“Strange how?”

“Like… I had just told him the biggest lie of my life” 

“A lie? About what?”

“I- I don’t think I’m gay sonya” 

“Really? I thought you really liked tommy?”

“I do.”

“I thought you weren’t really into girls?”

“I’m not.”

“Then newt, if you don’t think you're gay? What do you think?” 

“I think… I, Feel like a girl.” 

“What?”

“I feel, like a stranger in my body. Like outside of my room I’m playing a character on a stage. And I only really feel like me locked in my room” 

“How long have you felt like this?”

“... I think I’ve always felt like this. Just haven’t really put the feelings into words until now”

“Okay, so what do you wanna do about it?" 

I couldn't be happier sitting on my little chair at my vanity with newt beside me I was helping with makeup, contouring and which brushes to use for what "what does Tommy think about all this?"

"He thinks it's cute, he just gets annoyed when I have too much foundation on it rubs on his shirt"

"Are you using setting spray?"

'....no"

".... Do so"

"Will it help?"

"Yeah it steps stuff going on trips around your face"

"Ooohh I need that then my foundation tends to melt off for some reason" 

"I think that's too heavy for you"

"Well any lighter it does not cover" 

"Then use the spray it'll help" 

"Thanks" 

"Are you changing your name?"

"I don't know, do I need to?"

"Will still being called newt not make you feel weird?"

"Not really. Girl in aliens called newt"

"...true. it is kinda gender neutral I guess. But won't it confuse people?"

"I don't think so, one less thing people need to remember that's changed"

"Good point. Might make it easier for some people" 

"It's fine Tommy calls me a pet name anyway"

"Awwww what does he call you"

"Secret"

"Come on"

"He calls me darling"

'awwww that's so cute" 

"Right all done. I do okay?"

"Your eyeliner is a bit wonky but knowone ever gets them perfect"

"That it?"

"That's my only notes"

"Thanks Sonya" newt gave me a big hug squeezing me tight 

"Your welcome newt, it was fun"

"I imagine it's a lot of fun for you, kinda like you get the sister you always wanted" 

"No, I always had my big sister" I smiled hugging newt tight

"Thank you Sonya"

"Your welcome,"

 Newt got up and went to the door I thought to go off to bed but I noticed something

"newt I love you but your not borrowing my new dress"

"but it's my size and looks so much better on me"

"no!"

"fine. Then you'd not borrowing my jeans"

"but-"

"nope!" Newt says scampering to bed.

[cd-head]

“we don’t even know what redd is!”

thats what repeated through red’s minds most night as his hands shook, as the bottle was cold on his skin and the moon was hidden by the clouds in the sky and no stars managed to glow in the night. the of the clearing flashed before his eyes.

he could still feel the cold air of it, the strain in his legs, the emptiness in his heart from apo’s death that still dug, but was buried a bit more. the memories wrapped their arms around him and pulled him under the boiling water, but he didn’t want to drown.

red’s body moved on his own, the armor clicks didn’t even echo in his mind like it always has. the sword was coarse under his hand and the straps of the shield clung to his lower arm, didn’t process the cold night air breathing down his clothes.

the cold was so different than the heat in the cell. the armor shuffled on his skin the same though, his hair sticking to the back of his neck as he gripped the sword tighter as he walked.

//

owen’s face was orange in the lighting of the lava as he stood in the cell, ironic honestly. how this man was called part of the fruit trio. the heat made even the demon’s blood boil in it.

“red you need to trust me.”

“you see owen.. there’s something… kinda controversial about….. trust here.”

“and what’s that?”

red felt owen’s eyes watch him as his mask was pulled off, revealing his pointed ears. revealing the horns that pressed against his hair and the eyes that were almost cat like.

“…. you’re…. you’re one of them.” 

the heat followed him and so did the screams of owen, rattling him deep to his bones as he was called a monster.

red wondered if that’s the last thing owen called apo before he killed him. a monster.. hm. apo was far from that. red though? maybe it fit.

//

the grass crunched underneath each footstep, his body moving on it’s own like a puppet with no master to control his strings. someone moved. two someones. a demon with a red hairband chatting lively as he walked with a man with hair so white it almost glowed in the slight moonlight.

mapicc and ro.

he heard mapicc call out to him, a taunt on the mans tongue but red was all too alert. all too on edge as his sword swept forward and pointed at the other demon’s chest who stumbled back in shock.

hands that glowed purple grasped at the swords blade and shoved to point at the ground as ro stepped in front of mapicc, a fire burning in his eyes.

it was funny honestly. how much they sometimes reminded him of apo and himself. the same protectiveness, the same need to keep them safe.

“alright, thats enough, man. back off.” ro’s words were as sharp as venom. ever the poet.

red had said those same words once, had gripped his own hands - although the ones holding red’s sword were as magic as the glow in ro’s eyes - onto a blade and shoved it down with a growl.

//

“alright, thats enough, man. back off- no actually. fuck off.” red hissed, gripping the silver blade tightly in his gloved fists. as if threatening to crack the metal out of pure spite.

oeca had rolled his eyes, yanking his sword back and running off with words that red couldn’t remember. buried in the haze of the maze, buried with oeca’s young rotting body. never to make it past sixteen.

a hand squeezed red’s shoulder, gentle and soft as ever as a smile met his eyes and apo’s hand drooped down to fall back at his side as he walked away with words of promise. something about how red shouldn’t always be so protective of him, that red can let his guard down.

red shouldntve let his guard down, because he later found himself staring at the skull in the maze with small red horns peeking out and alcohol with a mix of salted tears down red’s throat.

//

red couldn’t help the soft smile that came over his features, not noticing the glance ro and mapicc shot each other before ro stumbled back in shock (or was it pain? perhaps both.) as the sword was ripped out of his grasp.

red purposefully ignored the purple blood on the blades. ignored how mapicc muttered something to ro, couldn’t hear as ro whispered back with a wince.

“sorry. i.. got lost in my mind. memories, y’know?”

neither of the two answered for a bit before mapicc sighed and with a arm wrapped around ro’s shoulder (it made him look shorter than he was. something panged deep in red’s chest.) as he smirked at red, ever so cocky. “it’s fine! just next time don’t try to kill me, perhaps?”

“yeah, yeah. sorry dude.”

ro didn’t utter a word as red smiled weakly at them before he walked away from the duo. they went back to talking.

mapicc’s not the brightest and yet he didn’t utter a word about red when he considered him far enough.

the man seemed exhausted. dead on his own feet. there was a glaze in his eyes. and mapicc’s feet (with ro trailing behind.) led him to find ash.

red didn’t question why ash showed up at his base the next day. didn’t ask how ash knew the flashbacks were bad again. didn’t question anything as his head laid on the other’s man chest and safety flooded him.

he was fine.

well. he wasn’t.

but he was for now, until the next night. but it’s fine.

lifesteal may be deadly, but it has ash. and the people know to get him when red gets that look.

writing prompt for a writing prompt ?

BET

your prompt isssss

“alright, that’s enough, man. back off.”

[iamyoursimper]

I'm finally back baby! Sorry for the long wait y'all

Octavinelle edition ✨

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

2 kids ( girl, boy)

The eldest has azul's cool light-gray, hip-length, soft and wavy hair, with a black hairband on top of her head. Her eyes are a caramel brown color. A small beauty mark rests below her lip on the left side of her face. She almost always wears her rectangular half rim glasses with a gray frame. She is a tall, fair-skinned young lady, with a modest smile and calculating gaze.

The youngest has Mc's/Yuu's black, short, neat, side swept hair, with a cool light-gray tint color below. A small beauty mark rests below his lip on the left side of his face. He is a tall, fair-skinned young man with a warm and polite smile. He is often seen helping his sister expand her " business ".

Jade Leech 🦈 ( Plz bear with me)

5 kids ( girl, triplet boys, girl)

The eldest has jades teal,short,pixie cut hair, with black strands at the tip of her hair. She has bright yellow eyes. She usually wears one elegant colored jade and silver flowered ear clip with three silver and jade ovaloid dangling off of it, on her right ear. She is a fair-skinned young lady, with a height considerably taller than her other peers. She usually has a polite and gentle smile. Her teeth, when shown , are sharp. She is usually seen gathering herbs ans mushrooms.

The second child [ triplet a ] has Mc's/Yuu's black, armpit length hair, with teal highlights hair tip, long curtain style bangs that fall over his face . His hair is tied into a low ponytail. He has nut-brown eyes. His appearance mirrors that of his triplet brothers . He usually wears one lip to ear cuff chain on his right ear, along with some spiky helix piercings, and hollow circle ear pierces. Along with an idustrial key design chain piercing, several hoop earrings , a moon shaped piercing on the tragus, and a pearl piercing on the conch on his left ear. He usually wears a chain ring bracelet on his left hand. His eyes angle upwards, he is a fair-skinned young man, with a height considerably taller than his other peers. He usually has a polite smile on his face. His teeth, when shown , are sharp. He is usually seen cleaning his brothers messes.

The third child [ triplet b ] has Mc's/Yuu's black, neck-length, neat, nape hidden undercut, with teal highlights, two long, side-parted , side bangs. He has a short, straight-cut , messy bangs. All his hair is gathered in the mid-section part of his head. His eyes are a complete heterochromia , with his right eye being bright yellow, and his left eye being nut-brown. His appearance mirrors that of his triplet brothers. He usually wears one dangling red and blue-green earring on his right ear. His eyes angle upwards, he is a fair-skinned young man, with a height considerably taller than his other peers. He is seen with a bright and mischievous smile. His teeth, when shown, are very sharp.

The fourth child [ triplet c ] has Mc's/Yuu's black, neck-length, neat, nape hidden undercut, with teal highlights, two long, side-parted , side bangs. He has a short, straight-cut , messy bangs. All his hair is gathered in the mid-section part of his head. His eyes are a complete heterochromia , with his left eye being bright yellow, and his right eye being nut-brown. His appearance mirrors that of his triplet brothers. He usually wears one dangling red and blue-green earring on his left ear. His eyes angle upwards, he is a fair-skinned young man, with a height considerably taller than his other peers. He is shown with a friendly and mischievous smile. His teeth, when shown, are very sharp. He is usually seen beating duelling students that has sparked his interest .

The youngest has jades teal, bra-strap length, wavy and silky bouncy hair. Average length bangs, and two long side-parted side bangs with a streak of dark-gray hair. Her hair is tied into a two low ponytails, with two big black ribbons tied to them. She has bright amber eyes. She usually wears one cute and stylish wollen beret on top of her head . She is a fair-skinned young lady, with a height considerably taller than her other peers. She usually wears a cute and polite smile. Her teeth, when shown, are very sharp.

Floyd Leech 🦈

3 kids ( twin girls, boy)

The eldest [twin a ] has Floyd's teal, mid-length, silky and wavy, loose side dutch/french side braided hair, with a small black ribbon attach to it. Average length bangs, and two, long side-parted bangs, with a streak of dark-gray hair. She has bright yellow eyes. She usually wears one of her sisters homemade seashell bracelet on her left hand. She is a fair-skinned young lady, with a height considerably taller than her peers. She is usually seen with a wide, sharp-toothed grin.

The second child [ twin b ] has Floyd's teal, mid-length, silky and wavy hair, and has the mid portion of her hair loosely braided and tied together with a black ribbon. Average length bangs, and two, long side-parted bangs, with a streak of dark-gray hair. She has bright yellow eyes. She usually wears one of her sisters homemade seashell bracelet on her right hand. She is a fair-skinned young lady, with a height considerably taller than her peers. She is usually seen with a wide, sharp-toothed grin.

The youngest has Mc's/Yuu's black, short, and fluffy hair. Average length bangs , the hair closer to his neck fades into a lighter teal. He has bright yellow eyes. He usually wears a spiky black collar choker . His eyes angle downwards , he is a fair-skinned young man, with a height considerably taller than his peers. He is usually seen with a polite and calming smile. His teeth, when shown, are very sharp.

[hualianff]

How To Piss Off Your Boss

Chef HC AU

A few months ago, by some miracle, Hai Ye successfully earned a position at Crimson Embers–a lavish dining establishment serving an array of traditional dishes from different regions. It has outstanding reviews praising the exquisite interior, seasonally rotating menu, and delicious food.

It’s been HY's goal since entering culinary school to work in a kitchen with other professionals who have the same visions as him when it comes to cooking. After completing his studies and working in a small restaurant in his hometown for five years, HY finally gets to pursue his dream in the big city.

Crimson Embers opens at 3 p.m. and closes at 10 p.m. Only seven hours of business, and yet, it’s one of the most popular upscale restaurants in the region. Reservations line up months ahead of time; walk-ins are still encouraged too because of how spacious the establishment is. Those seven hours are one of the most stressful shifts HY has had the experience of working in. He’s very proud of the work he does, as a cook and as a collective whole with the kitchen too.

On a regular Monday, everyone arrives for their shift three hours ahead of opening to prepare the fresh ingredients, sauces, meats, drinks, etc. The sight of the CEO of Crimson Embers, Hua Cheng, cleaning the already spotless counters greets them when they arrive in the kitchens. Apparently, HC has decided to not only visit this particular branch for the week but also take on the head chef’s duties and monitor the workers himself. 

All the cooks rush to throw on their aprons, tie back their hair, and wash their hands. HY follows his colleagues, blood pounding in his ears as his nerves threaten to get the best of him. Everyone naturally forms a line in front of the longest counter to stand at attention as HC waits expectantly at the front of the kitchen. 

“Everyone, it’s been a while since my last visit. I see some familiar faces-“ HC’s eye flickers down the line, landing on HY, whose posture is as straight as a rod. “-and some new faces. Regardless, I welcome you guys to another day of hard work, teamwork, and top-notch cooking. Every single one of you is here for a reason. This team may be smaller than others, however, you guys are just as capable of serving the best foods in the country and ensuring excellent customer service.”

HC shrugs off his maple-red long coat to reveal a chef’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. HY spots a hint of tattoos peeking underneath the sleeves, intrigued. HC doesn’t exactly portray the image of a CEO in the restaurant industry. He’s relatively young, long hair swept back into a braid, inked up, and with an eyepatch to top the look. HY has nothing but admiration for him.

“Let’s do a great job today. Let’s do our best,” HC says resolutely. He slams his palm down onto the counter with a loud thud! “Begin.”

“Understood!” Every cook shouts in unison, then scrambles to their stations to rapidly food prep for the night shift.

The hours leading up to the restaurant’s opening are a bit maddening. Everyone is on their best behavior, zoned in on their work under their CEO’s watchful gaze. As soon as customers start filtering in, the impending shitshow is set to begin. All the employees have arrived, including the servers who zip in and out of the kitchen doors like a hoard of worker bees. 

HC is very firm and direct with his orders. His voice, though not the loudest, holds the most power, which he wields as an experienced leader to run things smoothly. Unfortunately, when it gets extremely busy during the night, the head server requests HY to leave the kitchen to seat people because the other servers are busy, and HY has almost a decade of serving knowledge under his belt.

When HY walks to the entrance, there’s a man at the front of the line, dressed in plain black jeans and a white, long-sleeved turtleneck. His long hair is neatly tied back into a low ponytail, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. His outfit is simple in style, but he pulls it off exquisitely. HY swallows nervously before asking if the man has a reservation.

“No, I don’t. Though I was hoping I could get a table for two?” The stranger asks with kind eyes. The glasses don’t do anything to obscure how vibrant they shine in the bold lighting of the restaurant. 

“O-of course. Right away, sir,” HY replies. The man in white smiles warmly and HY’s heart skips a beat. He gestures for the stranger to follow him, leading the guest to a quiet corner near the window. Luckily, since it’s only the man and whoever he’s dining with tonight, a small table was readily available. 

“Can I get you started with anything to drink?” HY politely asks. The handsome man quickly looks over the drinks menu. The strands of hair too short to be contained by the hairband fall to frame the man’s face. He quickly tucks them behind his ear, then points to one of the cheapest options. 

“I think the Makgeolli will do. It’s my partner’s favorite,” the man orders. HY enthusiastically nods. 

“I’ll have that out right away, sir.”

“By the way, is the owner free? Hua Cheng?” The man inquires. He crosses his legs in an elegant display that shows off their muscles and length, straining against the jeans’ fabric. HY tries not to stare as the man’s glasses slide down his nose a bit, to which he pushes them back up with a flick of his slender fingers.

“Hua Cheng is here, yes. But he's very busy,” HY informs apologetically. “I’m not sure he has time at the moment.”

The man tilts his head, looking slightly puzzled. For a brief second, he looks as if he’s analyzing HY’s appearance. After an understanding nod, the man relents his question.

“No worries. Thank you for seating me,” the man says, maintaining his mellow tone. HY bends at his waist in a half-bow, then heads back into the kitchens. He has to go back to his station to add the finishing seasonings on the meats–not before informing a server of a guest who requires Makgeolli.

“A full bottle,” HY adds. Just to be generous. No one thinks anything of it.

Ten minutes pass as the kitchen is bustling with bodies moving in all directions and the chopping of knives on cutting boards. That is, until the head server bursts through the doors with an ultra-panicked expression on her face.

“Why did nobody tell me Xie-xiansheng is here!?”

The chaos in the kitchen comes to a dead stop: mid-slice, mid-fry, mid-mix, mid-squeeze. Everyone stares blankly at the head server, who waves her arms towards the dining area with wild eyes.

“Xie-xiansheng is out there right now, sitting ALONE, and just ordered the special meal he and Hua Lao Ban always share,” she frantically rushes out. This snaps several workers out of their shock. 

“Oh shit-“

“Xie-xiansheng has been here the entire time and we didn’t know-!?”

“Someone get Hua Lao Ban-“

“NO! Don’t get him yet, otherwise he’ll skin our asses alive!”

“Fuck, put the special at the top of the list- go go GO!”

HY’s mind spins with the casual conversations he overheard about HC’s partner. He doesn't know much besides how many find HC’s husband to be exceptionally kind and beautiful. HY hasn’t even had the chance to look at a picture of XL, much less meet him since HY has started working at Crimson Embers.

Wait a damn minute.

Was that man he seated…HC’s husband?

HY feels like throwing up upon realizing he had unknowingly signed his death wish. 

“Why the hell is no one working? Do you not see the crowd of guests out there waiting for their food?” An authoritative voice barks, entering from the back of the kitchen, holding up three plates of exquisite, garnished roasted duck. HC walks through the kitchen with his shoulders set back in confidence, his tall height bearing over the other cooks. “Everyone, get back to work! NOW!”

Before anyone can stop him, HC exits through the kitchen doors to the dining lobby, serving the dishes to the guests himself. The employees look at each other with fearful expressions. Their hearts have nearly stopped beating in their chests, HY’s heart skipping a beat for a whole other reason now. 

They are so screwed.

《II》

[saxxxology]

Keep it Cool (oneshot)

The air conditioning in the bunker goes out, and Sam’s choice of cool clothing is nothing but a distraction to you. 

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Native American!Reader WARNINGS: smut and all the deliciousness that comes with it NOTE: This fic was originally co-written with @kittenofdoomage​. It is also 18+ only. Do not save or repost my work without my consent.

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The air conditioning in the bunker sucked. Being underground, the place usually stayed colder, enough that in the winter you had to get the heater working, but for some reason, the summer heat had infected every single room. All you could do was put on deodorant, get the fans going, and stock up on ice water.

Dean was good at staying cool, proudly displaying his glorious bowlegs as he ambled around in just a pair of boxers and a tee shirt. Sam, on the other hand, had a much more interesting alternative to staying cool.

Walking around shirtless in just a ratty pair of gray sweatpants was his way of keeping the heat off, which did absolutely nothing to help your own temperature regulation. 

You were in the kitchen, trying to fix yet another a fan you’d found in the basement and wearing nothing but a baggy tee shirt and cotton panties when Sam strolled in, those damn sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was sweating like a pig, and you watched as he grabbed a bottle of ice water from the fridge and tilted his head back to down almost half of it in four long, deep gulps. He poured the rest over the back of his neck and shoulders, not caring as it splattered to the concrete floor.

“How in the hell can you exercise in this?” You asked, watching as the wind from the fan already on the table blew his hair back. “It’s almost ninety in here, Sam.”

“Gotta keep in shape,” he replied simply, “routine is everything.”

“Routine can go fuck itself when it’s this hot,” you returned. “You could get heatstroke.”

He shrugged and pulled the waistband of his sweats up, which did nothing as they simply sagged back down around the V in his hips. “I know my limits,” he said. “What are you up to?”

“Trying to fix this fan,” you muttered irritably, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his back flexed as he pulled a hairband from around his wrist and swept his long, coppery locks into a knot on top of his head. “Got all the dust out of it, now I just have to get it working.”

“Need help?” He ran a palm over the four-day stubble on his jaw. “I got time on my hands.”

You swallowed thickly and shook your head. The last thing you needed was Sam distracting you. “No thanks… it won’t take long.”

Sam offered a kind smile that was quickly betrayed by the twinkle in his eye. “‘Kay then. Call me if you need anything.”

An hour later and you still hadn’t got the damn thing to work. Sam wandered back into the kitchen as you—still not wearing any pants—called it names. He smirked at your indignation with the technology and leaned on the table once again, those powerful biceps now only a foot away from your face.

“You sure you don’t need help?”

The fan had you in a mood already, and Sam’s playful little smirk just rubbed you the wrong way. “Fuck you,” you mumbled, glaring at the failed project on the table.

Sam rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight, just enough that you could see the thick length of his dick hidden beneath the thin, gray fabric of his sweats. He was all sweaty and shiny and perfect; you could smell the musk seeping from every pore. 

“Well, I said I’d help,” he replied and your back went straight. “You look like you could relax a little.”

It seemed like all of the oxygen went out of the room as you turned to him, taking in the lewd smirk on his face. He was looking at you with lidded eyes, giving them the impression of total blackness and a shiver ran down your spine, pooling into your core with an unbearable heat. He’d never been like this in all the years you’d known him; the sweet, soft-eyed Sam you knew was gone within seconds, replaced by a feral, lust-filled man that was this close to fucking you silly.

You inhaled sharply, trying not to let him get the better of you. Sure, a good, dirty fuck sounded incredible, especially with a man like Sam, but the two of you were supposed to be just friends...

He shifted and you swallowed, lifting you head when he stood straight. God, he managed to make the room look smaller when he stood his full height, all flexing muscles and tanned skin.

“When do you get time to sunbathe?” you blurted out, nerves forcing your brain into the wrong gear entirely.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “That’s where you went with that?”

“Sorry.” Your cheeks burned out of pure shame as you stood up and walked to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “It’s just… you’re really tanned and it’s distracting.”

“Am I?” He looked down at his bare chest, purposefully rolling his shoulders to show off the wide, muscular expanse of his chest, and you moaned without restraint. Sam was smirking again when he looked up, eyeing you hungrily. “You’re really tense, Y/N,” he murmured, stepping a little bit closer.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Sam?” you asked, horrified at how girly and wispy your voice sounded.

Sam laughed, backing you against the table, only inches separating you. “Is it working?”

You shivered as the heat of his skin filled the space between your bodies. His scent was intoxicating, the sweet, honey-like perfume clouding every breath you took until you were literally breathing Sam in. You whined, almost stomping your foot at how infuriatingly seductive this God of a man was.

“Yeah,” you whimpered, “yeah, it is.”

His fingers grazed your cheek, and just like that you were gone. You stretched up, practically begging him to kiss you, and he obliged without hesitation. His lips were full and warm, and his stubble was delightfully scratchy. His hands promptly slid down your back to grab handfuls of your ass, and you gasped when he pulled you flush against him. The thick line of his cock pressed against your belly, held back only by the thin fabric of his sweats. His index fingers slid down between your thighs, pressing against the damp fabric covering your pussy. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathed, “could just slide right up inside you, huh?” An indiscernible sound left your mouth. Grinning wickedly, Sam took your hand, guiding it to his cock, and you squeezed through the cloth, feeling him twitch in your fingertips. “Come here, baby girl.”

You gasped as he hauled you off the floor and slung you easily over his shoulder. Long strides carried you swiftly down the hallway, reaching his room in no time at all, and the second the door was locked he dumped you on the bed, crawling on top of you and watching your thighs press together in an effort to seek relief. He took advantage of your positioning to hood his fingers in your panties, pulling them down and tossing them off the edge of the bed. You eagerly stripped off your shirt, feeling cool air from the single fan on the nightstand wash over your sweat-dotted skin, and Sam growled at the sight of your pert nipples, practically begging to be sucked on.

“Sam, please,” you whimpered, reaching for him.

“Ah ah ah,” he teased, “not yet. I want you to see what I’ve been doing while I think about you.”

You moaned when he rolled to lie on his back beside you, slowly pushing his sweats down until his cock sprang free. He was huge, the tip almost reaching his navel, and if anything, your pussy only grew wetter thinking about what he’d look like stretching your walls out.

“Fuck,” you breathed, reaching out to try and touch him. Sam took your hand and guided it down between your own legs. 

“If you need to touch something, touch yourself,” he directed with a dark smirk. “Hands off until I say so.”

You obeyed, watching him grip the base of his dick in one hand while massaging the shaft with the other, long up-and-down strokes causing the muscles in his forearm to flex deliciously. He let out a sharp huff and groaned, his lips parted as his back arched off the bed. “Shit,” he panted, turning his head to kiss you, “touch yourself, baby, show me how needy you are.”

Again, you obeyed, rolling your clit under your middle and index fingers as Sam stroked himself. A bread of clear precum dripped from his slit, falling in a thin, clear strand down to land on the smooth skin of his lower belly. He pumped himself harder, spreading his legs and bending his knees so he could thrust up into his grip.

“I bet your pussy’s better than this,” he muttered, chest heaving with exertion, “look at what you do to me, baby, you’re such a fuckin’ turn-on.”

You moaned louder, keeping your fingers working on your clit as Sam bucked his hips up. “Sam…”

“Lemme taste you,” he said breathlessly, reaching for your hand and pulling it from between your legs. He greedily sucked your fingers between his lips and sighed, sliding his tongue across the slick pads of your fingers, moaning at the taste. “God,” he gasped once he’d gotten as much as he could, “come here.”

Sam hauled you into his lap, arranging your legs on either side of his hips. His cock pressed at your entrance, and without even a consideration of birth control, you rolled your hips, letting the thick, warm head of him slide inside. 

A gutteral shout left his lips, and you felt him throb excitedly as you sank down even more. Sam pressed his shaking fingers into your waist, holding you as you started to ride… or tried to. You’d never ridden anyone so long, so thick, and you found that it was more difficult to keep him inside you than you thought as your inner muscles clenched and pushed around him. He made it easier by holding his cock at your entrance as you adjusted, your arousal aiding you as you slid down even more until you could practically feel him in your belly, but even then, he was just so big.

“Thatta girl,” he urged, staring up at you. His bun had come partially undone, and strands of hair were stick to his forehead and neck, the combination of that with his scruff utterly mouthwatering. He craned his neck up, wrapping his lips around one pert little nipple, and you cried out as his teeth scraped the soft flesh of your breast.

“Sam, I can’t,” you shook your head, inhaling sharply when he throbbed again, “you’re too big, you need to—”

Your words choked off into a loud scream as Sam wrapped his arms around you, pulled you down until he was crushing you against his chest, and started thrusting madly into you. The thick, heavy heat of him repeatedly punching into your cunt was more than you could handle, and your next breath was ragged with pleasure. Sam held you tightly as you writhed against him, his own growls and grunts matching yours in volume and intensity.

“That’s it,” he snarled, “that’s it, baby, take it all.”

He rolled, pushing you onto your back and holding himself over you. The angle of his cock changed, and you felt him slam into your sweet spot. Tears bloomed in your eyes, and Sam only chuckled between breathy groans as you held onto him for dear life.

“S-Sam,” you stammered, “fuck, I can’t take it—”

“Yeah, you can.” He pressed a sloppy, scratchy kiss to the side of your neck and tugged your hair, exposing your throat for him to lick and suck at.

The next cry of his name turned into a rough sob, and when his teeth caught the soft skin under your chin, you almost lost control. Sam only thrust faster, pressing his knees into the mattress in order to shove his entire weight forward. Your bodies were coated with sweat, and as a rush of heat bloomed between your thighs, you realized that he was making you squirt. He felt the rush of liquid, the sudden, frantic spasming of your pussy, and his forearm came up, landing on the mattress over your shoulder and caging you in underneath him. 

“God, that’s fuckin’ nice,” he panted, staring down at you as his bony hips continued to slap against yours, “always thought you’d be a cute squirter.”

You shuddered and arched up, your breasts and stomach rubbing against Sam’s hot, firm skin. Your nails dug into his arms, and you cried out again when he gave another sharp thrust, forcing more slick to gush from your wrecked pussy.

“Yeah, look at that,” Sam nibbled at your jaw and resumed his brutal, animalistic pace, not caring as you clawed at his back and clenched your thighs around his waist. “Such a needy little cunt.”

You whimpered when he reached up to grab the headboard, his cock now impossibly deep inside you as he used the heavy wood as leverage. “Sam, p-please—”

“Please what?” He growled into your ear and practically crushed you beneath him, using his entire body to hold you down while he fucked you. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

You choked on your next words as he shoved his cock in deep and held himself there. “I n-need to come…”

Sam smirked down at you, watching as your eyes rolled back in your head. He was so deep inside you he could feel your cervix against the tip of his cock. “Oh, baby, you don’t need to ask permission.”

He growled into your ear, the primal sound sending a bolt of arousal straight down to your core. His hips jerked as he steadily worked himself back to his rhythm, and you held onto his arms, your vision going white.

“Gonna come,” you gasped, “gonna come, Sam…”

Your mouth opened in a silent scream as your orgasm slammed into you, only made more intense by the second as Sam twisted his hips, grinding his body into yours so perfectly you felt like you were melting around him. You might as well have been; the room was already sweltering.

You were barely able to think straight as you came down from your climax. Sam was grunting like an animal, his hips bucking furiously as his cock swelled, throbbed, and poured into you. His cum dripped around the edges of his cock, sliding down the curve of your ass to pool underneath you. 

No man you’d ever been with had come that much.

Finally, he fell away with a groan, his cock slipping from your folds. You felt the warm rush of his cum inside you and moaned at the feeling of it dripping out. Sam’s chest was heaving with exertion, and you heard him clear his throat.

“You okay?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” He swallowed. “So… that happened.”

You laughed at his sudden awkwardness. “It did. It was good.”

He looked at you. “It was?”

“You made me squirt,” you said, blushing. “I made a mess.”

“Uh, more like we made a mess,” Sam corrected you, rolling onto his side and looking down at the mess between your legs. “I’m gonna need new sheets.”

You giggled and ran your fingers over the scruff on his jaw. “And I’m gonna need an ice bath.”

Sam chuckled and trailed his lips over your jaw. “I might join you on that one.”

You were just about to deepen the kiss when a fist pounded on the door. In the minutes of your frantic coupling, you’d forgotten about the other inhabitant of the bunker. 

“If you don’t mind,” Dean called grumpily, “you could keep it down next time!”

“Sorry!” You called back, grinning nevertheless as Sam slid an arm around your waist and pulled you close. 

“You’re not sorry at all,” he teased, nuzzling your jaw with the tip of his perfect, pointy nose.

You shook your head and laughed as he kissed your neck. “Nope. Not one bit.”

Likes don’t spread my work - please reblog & comment if you enjoyed reading this :)

[sir-adamus]

so, after making some changes, struggling to find character allusions and having to rename one of the team members so i’d have an initial i can fit into a reasonable-ish team name, i have the concept descriptions of this RWBY fan-team down, below the cut, i give you Team HRTS - i am open to any feedback on these:

Team HRTS are a “technically-graduated” Huntress team operating out of Vale; they had rushed back to the school from a mission as the attack began, arriving at the city far too late to do anything but help pick up the pieces.

After a hasty, informal graduation from Acting Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch, they’re taking to their roles as Huntresses in a world now fumbling in the dark, no matter how futile it seems right now.

Alice Heddwyn – Leader, based on Alice in Wonderland. Rabbit Faunus. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Vorpal Blade” – Sword – fitted with grooves that slot different combinations of Dust types in depending on the mode, mode is selected by twisting the handle in combinations only Alice knows. Examples: “Snicker-Snack” mode – Default, no Dust. “Frumious” mode – Fire and Rock Dust. “Slithy” mode – Water and Gravity Dust. “Tulgey” mode – Plant and Wind Dust. “Mimsy” mode – Electricity Dust. Alice utilises a fast series of swings, dealing physical and elemental damage to wear down her opponents defenses.

Semblance: “Wonderland” – by expending Aura, Alice can summon an “imaginary friend” (similar to Weiss’s summons) that acts as an autonomous entity on the battlefield. Only one friend can be summoned at a time, cannot split into multiple entities, and as Alice is not directly in control of the friends, she must be careful who she picks as they may prove to be more a hindrance than a help. Risk factor: if she gets too carried away with her imagination, her Aura drains faster. Optimal usage is in small bursts rather than a continuous battlefield presence.

Personality: Charismatic, friendly and airy (in general, weird girl energy), able to balance the personalities within her team and respond to feedback from her teammates. Has a notable childish streak (she sometimes talks to her imaginary friends, so she seems weird to other people but – understandably – the line where she ends and the imaginary friends her Semblance manifests, and how sapient they are on their own, is blurry), and can be quite stubborn, especially towards authority figures when she believes she knows better. Quite talkative and blunt.

Appearance: Long, white rabbit ears. Short, platinum blonde hair – “punky” hairstyle? Blue eyes. Freckles and a tan due to outdoorsy nature. Shortest member of her team at 5’4’’. Outfit: Azure blue hairband. Blue combat skort (with pockets). White belt – pocket-watch hanging from it (gift/memento from a parent referencing the White Rabbit?) and Pumpkin Pete keychain. Wears black knee and wrist support braces and blue fingerless gloves. Black combat boots with blue lining/laces and cute white bows on the back. White tank top, black high collar crop puffer jacket (blue interior lining, stripes down the arms and accents), sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

Aura Colour: White

Emblem: Keyhole shape - splashed on the back of her jacket in white.

Background: Alice is the daughter of a Faunus and a human – her human parent is from the wealthier side of Vale (befitting the crown imagery and also alluding to original Alice being kind of upper class), she grew up in a large home in Vale, filled with extended family (some of whom she’s not entirely sure she’s actually related to), full of eccentricity and play; encouraging her wild imagination. She wanted to be a Huntress due to her imaginative spirit and romantic ideals about adventures and heroism. Initially she was quite a socially awkward, isolated loner outside of her home as she was often singled out as the weird kid (if she wasn’t being targeted for being a Faunus), while she studied at Pharos Academy, so initially it took a while for her to open up and rely on her team, at which point her more extroverted tendencies became apparent.

Rowena Argentum – based on Treasure Island. Human. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Flint and Bones” - Twin pistols that can combine and extend into an anti-material rifle (“The Captain”) – this mode has a lot of recoil, so Rowena’s prosthetic leg can double as a mount for it for long range shots.

Semblance: None – her Semblance was stolen not long after it unlocked when she was young, as collateral following a hit job by the assassin Marcus Black.

Personality: Cheerful and perhaps overly friendly, Rowena maintains a humble and optimistic outlook, sharing Alice’s eagerness for adventure. Unlike Alice, however, Rowena masks a hard edge, brought on by a life living unprotected by the Kingdoms; she’s an impressive liar, excellent at gathering information and pickpocketing. She has a vengeful streak and her impulsiveness often gets her into trouble, though it has tempered over the years.

Appearance: Long, loose green hair and coal-black irises. 5’8’’. She has a few scars on her arms and face from a rough life outside the Kingdoms, one notable one being a scar extending from the left edge of her mouth in a jagged “smile”. Rowena lost her left leg in the same incident she lost her Semblance; it has since been replaced with a simple prosthesis that she has modified to double as a mount for The Captain. She has a pirate aesthetic, wearing a loose blouse under a long double-breasted coat-jacket. Under her jacket she wears suspenders, which have the holsters for Flint and Bones attached. She wears several belts around her waist, loose-fitting trousers tucked into knee-high buckle boots. Colour scheme primarily green and silver.

Aura Colour: Silver

Emblem: A stylised Hawk from a top-down view, with its wings spread; worn on her belt buckle and tattooed on her right wrist.

Background: Rowena grew up outside the protection of the Kingdoms, hailing from a small seaside town. She saw numerous bandits and pirates coming through town on a daily basis, and would often be regaled with stories of swashbuckling adventure by the friendlier visitors. Until the day came that a notorious pirate made port in the town, and the place was set ablaze after his subsequent assassination by Marcus Black. Rowena’s Semblance was unlocked in the panic, only to be immediately stolen by Marcus on his way through, endangering the child’s life as her home burned around her, and the Grimm set in. She lost her leg as a result. Determined to never let this happen anywhere else, she dedicated her life to becoming a Huntress, traveling all over (including some time spent in Kuchinashi) and fighting to survive, learning whatever skills she had to until she was old enough to take the exam at Beacon Academy – and keeping an ear to the ground in case a certain assassin ever showed his face again.

Titania Ianthe – based on the Fairy Queen. Human. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Graviton Reign” – Glaive weapon, reach for crowd control. Contains a mechanism which uses Gravity Dust inside the blade, furthering crowd control ability, either with repulsing strikes or anchoring opponents as they are swept away.

Semblance: “Attraction” – Titania emits a low-level psychic field that makes everyone and everything pay attention to her. Effect is passive and subtle most of the time, but she can use her Aura to concentrate the effect as a pulse in battle (extending the radius of her Area of Effect to 15 meters); drawing aggro from people and Grimm alike.

Personality: Aloof, confident and proud, Titania didn’t come to Beacon to make friends, but there she found a family. Titania has a lot of walls up, and is often frustrated that her teammates seem determined to clamber over every single one. Despite her exasperation though, she loves her team and would do anything for them, even if it means administering some tough love once in a while. She has difficulty in social situations, and has a tendency to try and shoulder too much responsibility at once. She is also sometimes insecure, due to the nature of her Semblance, whether anyone truly likes her.

Appearance: Wavy, shoulder length dark brown hair, pinned back so it won’t get in her eyes. Dark purple eyes. She has light brown skin, a toned, athletic physique and is noted as the most beautiful of her team. Tallest member of the team at 6’2’’. Outfit: Wears a purple and black sleeveless, hooded top (hood is usually kept up). Black, segmented armoured bracers with silver accents over black gloves. A loose, knee-length faded purple skirt over biker shorts. Heeled black boots with purple laces and zippers.

Aura Colour: Purple

Emblem: A tiara with a large central peak – shaped with interwoven lines and swirls

Background: Titania hails from Vacuo, originally from a small community near the edge of the Kingdom. She grew up hearing old stories about famous Huntsmen and Huntresses, especially enamoured with legendary Huntresses like Opal or the Grimm Reaper. Eager to see the world beyond the sands, and assured in herself that she would one day be talked about in stories too, she trained to fight, traveling to Vale where she could begin her legend. She quickly found recognition and popularity at Beacon; she just wishes people would stop asking her out on dates.

Sable Dunscaith – based on Scáthach. Human. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Nightfall Breach” – a spear with multiple configurations. Its compact form can fire crossbow bolts (charged with explosive Dust) out of the spear tip. The default form functions as a regular spear weapon and can be thrown as a javelin – the spearhead has a hidden function, releasing explosive barbs for additional damage after making contact. The pole-vault form is exactly what it says on the tin, extending out and allowing Sable to pole-vault over or across obstacles, retracting rapidly to allow for aerial manoeuvres whilst she’s in the air. She can also throw Nightfall Breach as a javelin, and relies on martial arts training until she can retrieve it.

Semblance: “Phantom” – able to utilise any shadow within a 40-foot radius as a portal as long as she is stood within the shadow (and it isn’t her own) – she can then appear from any shadow of her choosing (the further away, the higher the cost on her Aura). She can also utilise portals at a distance by throwing objects, such as Nightfall Breach, giving her an advantage in combat by making her hard to predict. Her Semblance’s effectiveness is drastically increased at night, but incredibly diminished in wide open areas, especially during the day when there’s little to cast shadows.

Personality: In contrast to her gloomy appearance, Sable is as much of an excitable nerd as her leader, as well as the de facto team mom. Sable is often on the side-lines in conversations, which suits her just fine, but she’s always watching out for everyone and there to lend a supportive hand when it’s needed. In spite of her quiet appearance, she’s also a bit of a prankster and can be very competitive, especially when her twin is involved. Her calm, warm demeanour however masks a fiery and brutal warrior with a number of tricks up her sleeve that let her control the flow of battle while maintaining a sharp degree of unpredictability.

Appearance: Red hair kept in a short ponytail. Vivid crimson eyes. Pale complexion. In general, she has a very Gothic aesthetic. 5’11’’. Outfit: Sable dresses in mainly black with some silver accents. She wears a long, fishtail coat with a fur-lined collar, long trousers and fur-lined heeled boots.

Aura Colour: Black

Emblem: A Castle – embroidered in silver on the back of her coat.

Background: Sable grew up on the island of Patch off the coast of Vale, and like many, attended Signal Academy in hopes of one day being accepted into Beacon – being a Huntress like her mother and grandmother was the dream. Sable’s twin, Astrid, determined to outshine her, followed her on this path, becoming a rival that pushes Sable to become ever stronger. When initiation put them each on different teams, this rivalry grew even fiercer; now in their fourth year and on the cusp of becoming fully licensed Huntresses, tensions between the twins are edging towards a fever pitch.

[corruptedconfessions]

Hi :D! Could I ask for yandere shinsou being walked in on (by his own darling) him putting things putting things on his shrine for darling?

As per usual im not super proud of my own writing but I hope you enjoy it none the less! Sorry again for the wait! Uni and depression has been kicking my ass loll

Also! A little warning! While this one still is gender neutral like most of my works some of the clothing mentioned is generally feminine. That’s kinda the idea I had and I ran with it! 

He had been careless. 

Normally he was ever so careful to make sure that he was behind locked closed doors before he would open his closet door, revealing the towering shrine, what was once a little shelf now turning into a full floor to ceiling display. He had everything, He had managed to get a blown up version of your school picture, lovingly framed in the middle, surrounded by flowers he changed frequently and your favorite scented candles. It had been long enough his little shrine had a wide variety of...collectibles of you.  

What had started as a discarded eraser, forgotten hairband, crumpled up paper you had thrown away had quickly grown into more...intimate things. Over the two years of your friendship with him he had managed to steal several articles of clothing, some Chapstick you used (it felt glorious against his lips, an indirect kiss that left him shuttering and hard every time), even a few strands of your hair that he had stolen from the salon when you had gotten a haircut. That one was his pride and joy, it had been hard to sweep in and steal some hair without you or the hairdresser noticing before it was swept away. 

You had been getting suspicious of so many things disappearing from your life, though. Started confiding in him with fears of a stalker, telling him about your favorite things disappearing, items like perfume and Chapstick disappearing faster than you could replace them. He had soothed your anxieties, promising you were just being forgetful, but also saying he would keep an eye out for you, promising he would tell you if he saw anything suspicious. 

The guilt of scaring you had kept him at bay for awhile. He had enough things covered in your scent, enough things your lips had touched that he was sure he could hold himself back for your sake. You two were practically glued at the hip now days anyways, and the real thing was always much better than the weak items he substituted when you insisted on going out with...others. Honestly he didn’t understand why you couldn’t just stay with him!

He had been doing so well, able to hold back the urges to swipe stuff as you looked away, smiling softly at you as he handed you whatever you had accidentally dropped instead of stowing it in his hoodie pocket before you noticed.   

But then he was tempted with a prize he couldn’t resist. 

It had been a normal evening, he had been sitting on your bed, watching you ramble and flit around the room, freaking out and chattering about something or another. Honestly he couldn’t quite remember, too mesmerized watching the way your face lit up when you grinned, or how your eyebrows would furrow together whenever your tone turned more annoyed. You were always so breath taking, always making his hands itch with the urge to reach out and just touch you. To feel your warm skin under his touch, to watch your face as you reacted to him instead of all those useless idiots you insisted on being around. 

There had been a knock at your door and much to his annoyance you had ignored his insistence to ignore it and ran off to go answer the door, stepping out into the hall and leaving him to his own stewing thoughts. 

It really wasn’t his fault! You had left him alone for so long...and you had just left them laying out, peaking out from under your bed tauntingly, like a prize you had left for him to find. Like you were asking for him to take them, to have this new souvenir of you....it had been so long. He had held himself back from taking things...

It was only logical he rewarded himself for his efforts right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shinsou’s hands shook as he hooked his thumbs under each side of your panties, holding them up in front of him as he drank in the sight of them with a flushed face. So this is what you...

The blush that dusted across his face darkened as he shifted, making the bulge straining against his tight jeans all the more obvious and painful. Hesitant eyes shifted between your panties and his jeans, his hand twitching as he hesitated. 

He could...

No. 

Right now he had bigger things to focus on. Like finding a place to put this new important addition before you came over to meet him for dinner. It was such a shame that the guy you had originally made the reservations for had ghosted you...but he would always be there to pick up the pieces

That reminded him to make sure you didn’t look in the freezer until he had time to run to the store and get more acid...

Shaking away his distracted thoughts his eyes roamed over his shrine, still holding your panties high in the air. Perhaps he should move the flowers and lay it in front of your photo...It would make a wonderful centerpiece. 

“Shinsou! Sorry I let myself in using my key! You’d never guess what-”

The purple haired male froze when you suddenly barged into his room, freezing at the sight of him kneeling in front of his closet, holding up the panties like some sort of offering. 

“Are those my- What is...”

His hands started to shake as he watched the color drain from your face as your eyes roamed over his shrine, taking in every excruciating detail of it. 

“No- Wait, y/n , I can explain!”

He was immediately spurred into action as you took a nervous step back, shaking and dumbstruck as you took in the sight in front of you. Everything you had lost, everything Shinsou had comforted telling you you had misplaced was right there, hanging around a picture of your face in your best friends closet. 

“W-what the fuck!”

Fully prepared to turn and leave a yelp was pulled out of you as muscled arms quickly wrapped around you, restraining your arms to your sides, panties still clutched tightly in one fist. 

“This isn’t what it looks like!”

For once the calm and collected, almost apathetic hero looked panicked, eyes wide as he shook even as he restrained you easily, ignoring your thrashing as if you were nothing more than a baby bird hitting his chest. 

“Y/n!” You shook your head angrily, jerking in his touch as you hissed at him, tears burning in your eyes. 

“Don’t touch me, pervert! Let go of me!!”

A part of you warmed in pride as the male visibly flinched at the insult. Good. He deserved to feel guilty for being such a creep! You glared directly up into his gaze, unwilling to step down from this challenge even as he easily held you tight against him.

And so you watched as panic and guilt melted away into something...darker. With a deep breath even the shaking stopped, hands now easily pinning you against him as an arm moved to hold you in a chokehold, forearm pressing into your throat. 

“Shin-sou?”

Your hands darted up to claw at his wrist as he frowned down at you, somehow looking so sad despite the empty apathetic eyes that stared down into yours even as tears started streaming down your face. 

“I’m sorry...I can’t have you leave after this. Don’t worry, I’ve done this before. You’re just going to take a little nap until I can decide what to do with you...”

His voice was soft as he hushed you, whispering soft comforts, barely audible over the sounds of your own ragged breaths and choking. 

Everything faded to black. 

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (XXVII)

Chapter 27: Sunflowers And Peonies

Here we go with a new chapter! It's pretty long, because I chose not to split it into two shorter parts.

I'm going to drive you absolutely nuts with this chapter. I know it. I do hope that you come screaming at me after you've read this. Please, do come screaming at me, because I am screaming at myself too.

The last scene of this chapter is actually the first thing I wrote for this story three months ago, so it's a bit weird to finally being able to post it. What a long journey we've made…

So… in this chapter, we'll have… fluff, more fluff, and the beginning of some angst and probably a nervous breakdown (at least, from my end)... enjoy :)

I hope you like this chapter. Please, tell me what you think about it!

Word Count: 6197

You couldn't believe that it was today.

You were finally opening your shop!

Gareth, Jas and Harry had prepared a little party, where they would invite some of your friends, apparently. You weren't sure what was going to happen, they only told you to dress nice for the day. And if you were grateful for the kind gesture, you had to admit that you were already stressed and excited enough by the actual opening of your shop without wondering about what your friends would have prepared for the evening.

Your alarm-clock rang at 6 am, which would allow you to get ready, grab a quick breakfast and get the last of the deliveries before the big opening. You still had a few things to add inside the shop, a few flowers to re-organize and bouquets to make after your midnight thoughts, and you would be ready to open at 9.

But surprises started as soon as you woke up. Indeed, you hurried to turn off your alarm clock, wanting to avoid to wake up your boyfriend, but when you turned in the bed to check if he was still asleep, his side of the bed was empty.

You frowned hard, wondering where he was. You walked around the flat, but he wasn't there.

Instead, you found a note left on the kitchen table, along with a cup of coffee and some toasts ready for you.

 I'll see you at the shop.

Enjoy a good breakfast.

Love you x

 You smiled, reading the note a few times while you hurried to eat your food. You had no idea what was going on, but you couldn't wait to find out.

Jas and Harry had told you to dress nice for your first day, and as you opened the door of your closet, there was no doubt in your mind as to what you should wear.

The burgundy suit Harry had bought for you was suspended there in all its glory. And maybe it was too much and didn't fit to work in a flower shop, but you didn't really care. You wanted to wear it for your big day. It would give you the confidence that you needed to hold up throughout the day. Besides, it would remind you of Harry…

You showered and got dressed, hurrying to get ready to arrive early at your shop.

You found a second surprise that made your jaw drop when you entered your shop at 7:30 : Jasmine, Gareth and Harry were there.

They were finishing to set up your shop, they had clearly picked up the flowers you were supposed to get before the opening, and Harry and Jas were even making bouquets.

"What…?"

Your jaw was dropped, and you couldn't find the strength in you to close your mouth again. Instead, you just walked inside the shop, and your friends turned towards you as they heard the bell on your door ringing.

"Ha! There she is!" Harry exclaimed, putting down the roses he was assembling.

"What are you all doing here?" you asked, still shocked. "I though we would see each other tonight…"

"We came to help, obviously!" Jasmine answered as if it were the dumbest question of all.

"But… it's so early…"

"We thought that we could get a head-start, so you won't have to rush this morning," Gareth answered with a smile.

"You can spend time making your bouquets, and take a good coffee with us to relax before you open!" Jasmine added with a nod. "Everything else is ready!"

You were on the verge of tears, and opened your arms for a group hug that your friends were happy to give you.

"Thank you all so much, for all you've done for me."

"Nonsense! We only give you a little hand here and there." Harry laughed.

He hoped you couldn't hear how fast his heart was beating in his chest. You were wearing the suit, and he wasn't certain to be able to survive the day with you looking as beautiful as this…

He had noticed as well that his necklace was secured around your neck, as always, and the thought made him smile.

"So, what do we do, boss?" Harry asked as you eventually released your friends.

You swept away the tears that had gathered at the corner of your eyes.

"Well… If you've picked up the flowers I needed, then we should finish the bouquets for today, and then get the stalls ready outside."

"You've got it, boss!" Harry nodded solemnly, before hurrying to the back of the shop with a ridiculous fast walk that didn't fail to make you laugh. Jasmine followed him, laughing at his antics as well.

"Thank you for all this," you told your boyfriend as you the two of you were alone in your shop. But he shook his head, looking down at his feet.

"I wish I had organized all this, but it wasn't my idea," he admitted, and the confession had a bitter taste on his tongue. He was an honest man though, he couldn't simply lie to you, even if he didn't like the truth.

"Really? I thought it was you."

"No, it was Harry's idea."

"Really?" you asked, your eyes wandering away from Gareth to the door behind which Harry had just disappeared.

"Yeah, he planned the party for tonight too."

"Did he?"

Gareth nodded.

"He wanted to make it special for you. Sometimes, I reckon it's a bit too much. But I can't deny it was a good idea."

You had a dreamy smile on your face as you still stared at the door, your mind straying away, and Gareth hated to see this look on your face because of someone who wasn't him.

And sometimes, he wondered if you realized that your features adorned such expression. He wondered if you did it on purpose or if you didn't even notice. He reckoned it was most probably the second option though, and it was even worse.

And sometimes he asked himself an even more painful question, and wondered if you looked at him the same when he couldn't see you.

But he pushed the question away every time. You were with him, so it had to mean that he was the one you really wanted, right?

"You're wearing the suit," he pointed out. "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you," you grinned, spinning before him to show off your clothes, your attention finally settling back upon him.

"Harry was right to buy it for you."

"Yes, he was."

"Alright, boss! We've made some bouquets already, come and be the judge!" Harry merrily cried, coming back inside the shop with more flowers in his arms that he set on the counter. He was wearing one of his TPWK jumpers, and he looked a little dishevelled so early in the morning. He looked comfy and domestic. You wanted to hold onto him and bury your face in his shoulder for the rest of the day…

"Obviously, I've made the best ones," he grinned, turning all cheeky, which made Jasmine roll her eyes and cross her arms before her chest.

"In your wildest dreams. I'm obviously more skilled in decoration than you!"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me right."

"Now, Y/N, you have to set this right."

"What about me?" Gareth protested, pointing at his bouquets.

You winced at the sight, knowing that you would have to make them again. Luckily, your boyfriend had only made 3.

"You know, baby… You're very good at renovating buildings and stuff but… flowers really aren't your thing…"

"Don't I get extra points as your boyfriend?!"

"No, but you can get kisses!"

He exploded with laughter, and leaned to give your lips a peck.

Harry looked away, the muscle of his jaw making a jump.

"I think it's better. Alright then, who between these two is the best florist?"

You judged the bouquets your best friends had made, and you had to admit that they were good enough to be sold.

"I still think that… Jasmine wins."

"YES!"

"No!" Harry dramatically protested, grabbing his chest right where his heart was in fake betrayal.

"I told you!" Jasmine sang a couple of times in victory.

"But yours are great too, Harry!" you reassured him, but it wasn't enough.

"All these efforts for nothing… Come on then, tell us what to do."

You walked around the counter, giving a boop to the little sprout of hair he had gathered on the top of his head with one of your old hairbands you had forgotten at his place, and then dropped a sweet kiss to his cheek, which made him grin like an idiot and fiercely blush. He turned around to hide his reaction, faking to gather more flowers.

The four of you prepared some bouquets for a while, before gathering around a warm cup of coffee and just chatting, waiting for the time for your shop to open.

Until it was 9 am, and Harry insisted on filming you with his phone while you turned the sign on your front door from closed to open.

"Done," you said, a grin spreading across your lips while your heart pounded in your chest.

It was done indeed. You finally had your own flower shop…

Your friends clapped, and cheered for you, and you thanked them, shying away before all this attention.

"We're gonna leave you to it, now. We need to go to work too… or well, except for him, of course," Jas said, and she playfully pointed at Harry, who merely rolled his eyes in response. "We'll see you tonight for the party!"

Gareth and Jasmine left, hurrying to their workplace, but Harry lingered for a little longer.

"Do you need anything else? You want me to stay?" he offered as only the two of you remained in your shop.

"No, I'm fine. Besides, I'm sure you're needed at the studio. You have to prepare your first single, right? It's gonna drop soon!"

"Yeah… I guess you're right."

"I can't wait to listen to it. Is it about me?" you asked, nudging him as you laughed.

"Why would it be?" he replied, teasing you, although he was flushed again, all the way up to the top of his ears.

"Don't you remember? That day when you bit your tongue, you told me you wrote tons of songs about me!"

"Did I say that?"

"You did!"

"Well, I was high… that's why…"

"No, I'm sure you weren't lying! When your album is ready and I can finally listen to it, you'll have to tell me which songs are about me," you added, biting on your lower lip, which made his heart dance in his chest to a tempo that was way too fast to his liking.

But he shook his head, his heart growing heavier and slower again. He gave you a smile that he couldn't turn into a happy one.

"I can't do that."

"Why not?" you frowned.

Of course, he couldn't tell you. How could he?

Because then you would find out that almost all of them are about you. And they're about the fact that I love you.

"Wouldn't want your head to get too big, now, would we?" he joked, but he was terrible at hiding the pain that made his shoulders drop.

"Hey, are you okay?" you asked with a frown, resting a soothing hand on his arm, and he couldn't help it when he leaned into your touch. His body just reacted to you this way: eagerly, almost desperately, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Yeah, sure. Just… a bit stressed out. I feel like I still need a couple of songs for the album, it's still a bit off for now."

You gave him a bright smile.

"Well, you still have a little time. I'm sure you'll find just the songs that you need. I believe in you."

Hearing you say this made him want to cry. Not out of sadness this time, but because he was overwhelmed. You were always there for him, always encouraging him to be himself. He had grown more comfortable in his own skin over the past few years, and he knew that it was partly thanks to you and the way you accepted him for who he truly was, so fully, without any attempt to change him. And hearing you say that you believed in him, with such a proud light glimmering in your eyes… it was all that mattered to him, really.

"Thanks. I'm very proud of you, you know? About your shop, and everything you do. I'm proud of you, Y/N. You deserve all this. You deserve all the happiness in the world."

You couldn't help but hug him, thus hiding the way a few tears threatened to escape your eyes now.

After a couple of minutes, you finally broke away, and Harry gave you a warm smile, although his eyes were still wet with withheld tears.

"See you tonight at the party, then?"

"Sure, see you tonight!"

"Good luck for today!"

"Thank you! You too!"

He gave you an adorable little wave as he opened the door and walked out of your shop.

The party was amazing.

Harry had a talent for planning those, you had to admit it. Your friends and some of your former colleagues had been invited. It wasn't such a big crowd, but Harry had still booked an entire restaurant by the beaches of Malibu for the event, and there was music and cocktails and good food, and you were surrounded by people you loved. And it was an amazing feeling.

Your first day at the shop had gone by without any problem. You had had a few clients, who seemed satisfied by the bouquets you made for them, and that was all you could ask for, really. You knew it would take a few weeks, perhaps even months, for your shop to really take off and be full of clients, but you were optimistic.

The night had fallen upon L.A, lighting up the streets with electric lights and the sky with burning stars. It was the very beginning of fall already, and the air was a little chilly in the evening, although it was still L.A, and the temperatures were still gentle.

All evening long, Harry had never managed to focus on anything or anyone but you. He was beginning to be worried that his gesture would soon be noticed.

He couldn't help it though. There you were, looking like a dream in this suit he had bought for you, his necklace shining around your neck, a smile never leaving your lips and your eyes shining in the dim lights. You were talking with everyone, jumping from a group to another, and he was so happy to see you like this. You were happy, and so he was too.

Gareth had spent most of the evening by your side, but he was talking with some of your friends sitting at a table for now, while you laughed with Jasmine and some of your former colleagues from Mary's shop.

Alcohol was blurring Harry's senses and thoughts a little by now, and he decided it was enough for one night. It was your party, and he didn't want to get fully drunk. There was no way he would end this night that was dedicated to you by needing you to bring him home. So, he put down his glass on one of the tables, and merely leaned against the wall behind him, staring at you and trying as hard as he could to carve in his memory the image of you laughing.

His daydreaming was interrupted by Jasmine standing up on one of the tables though, and shouting to get everybody's attention.

She clearly had less self-control than Harry and was already drunk. She had a microphone in her hand, although he had no idea where she had found it.

"Everyone! I would like to say a few words about Y/N here, if you don't mind! I'd like to make a toast!" Jasmine said, rising her glass above her head. "Y/N! You are a real pain in the arse! But you're my best friend, and the most supportive and inspiring person I know. And I'll always consider myself extremely lucky to have you as my best friend. I'm so happy for you. Congratulations on this big achievement. To Y/N!"

"To Y/N!" the crowd cheered before drinking for the toast, and you waited for Jasmine to climb down the table to give her a giant hug, laughing at her silliness.

"I would also like to ask someone else to say a few words," Jasmine went on, capturing once more the attention of the crowd. "Because this party wasn't my idea. And I reckon that the one responsible for tonight should say a few words. Ladies and gents, give it up for Harry!"

Harry let out a nervous laugh, his hand flying to his face in embarrassment, but everyone was chanting his name by now, waiting for him to speak, so he had no choice but to walk over to Jasmine and take the microphone too.

He rested his free hand on his hip, his rings shimmering in the yellow light of the restaurant. He heaved a sigh.

"Well… hum… I didn't think there would be a speech. So… that's gonna be a disaster, for sure."

Everyone laughed, and you hid your eyes behind your hands, but only for a few seconds. You couldn't stay for too long without looking at him.

He had changed from his comfy outfit he wore in the morning for some Gucci clothes of his own. He was wearing these white, high-waisted and large pants you loved so much on him, a dark shirt and a pearl necklace. It seemed to be his new accessory these days, that he wore every chance he got, and you reckoned the pearls suited him so well indeed. He looked stunningly handsome tonight…

Harry cleared his throat.

"Hum… Y/N… what can I say? I'm extremely happy for you that your shop is finally open. I'm very proud of your achievement. And I'm not saying that just because it means that I'm finally going to be able to sleep on Sunday mornings as I don't have to paint your shop anymore…"

A new wave of laughter erupted throughout the little crowd, and he waited for it to die out before resuming his speech. His green eyes captured your gaze, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to look away now. His eyes were traps you never failed to fall into, and once you were imprisoned inside of them, Harry was the only one who could set you free by looking away first.

"No, if I'm so happy it's because… I don't think I know someone more deserving than you. You are the kindest, most generous and… the most hard-working person I know, and I reckon that in the world we live in, it just feels right that for once it pays off to be a good person. It's inspiring to see you achieving your goal after working so hard to reach it, and all I can wish now is for your shop to be a stunning success. Although, to be honest, I have no doubt that it will be nothing less. To Sunflowers and Peonies!"

All your guests repeated the toast and cheered and drank, while you were hugging Harry tightly in your arms.

"Thank you," you whispered, in his ear, and he felt the tear that ran across your cheek wet his neck as you snuggled closer into his chest. "Nice speech. You're sure you hadn't prepared one?"

"Jas surprised me. Remind me to get my revenge the next time I can humiliate her."

You exchanged a smile as you broke apart, and after so many emotions and a little bit too much of liquor in your system, you longed for some fresh air.

"Would you mind taking a walk with me?" you offered him, and Harry eagerly nodded.

Gareth saw the two of you leaving, but he didn't stop you. He felt his heart grow heavier, but he pushed the thought aside. He trusted you enough, after all. Instead of following you, he resumed his conversation and didn't wonder about you again.

You walked with Harry for a while, holding your jacket closer to you as the ocean wind was cool against you. Autumn was most definitely coming, even on the sunny beaches of California.

You remained wrapped in silence as you walked alongside the lazy waves. The salty air seemed to expand your lungs to allow you to breathe deeper than normal. It felt soothing, to be out there, with the rhythm of the waves by your side, and the foam shining softly under the moonlight.

Both you and Harry took your shoes off after only a few minutes, and you walked barefoot in the wet sand, the rough grains tickling your toes.

You didn't reckon that any of you needed to speak. Being in each other's nearness was enough. You felt his presence by your side, and it was just what you needed.

His fingers brushed yours a couple of times, but he didn't dare to hold your hand. He reckoned that it would be too dangerous to play at. But the third time you felt his fingertips brush the back of your fingers, you were the one to reach to hold back his hand as it moved away again. You held hands for the rest of your walk, two silent silhouettes who felt like they were home as they wandered aimlessly by the seaside, under the silvery moon.

You turned back towards the party after a while, but as you reached the restaurant again, you didn't want to go back inside just yet, so you offered to sit down on the edge of the water instead, across from the restaurant. Harry didn't bother to answer, merely guiding you to the edge of the foaming waves and sitting down by your side. You finally released his fingers to play with a seashell that laid, empty and abandoned, on the sand where you sat down. While you played with the pearly object, Harry looked at you… or rather… he admired you.

And the stars seemed brighter when you were here.

Harry had no other way to describe how he felt at that moment. Sitting by your side on the beach, silver moon up in the heavens along with scattered stars, the soft whisper of waves brushing the sand and the distant laughs of the party still raging in the restaurant. It was a lovely evening indeed, but you simply made it… better. Brighter.

And for a moment, he forgot you didn't feel the same. That you had someone else. That your heart belonged to another.

For just a flickering moment, just an instant, he didn't feel guilty for loving you as ardently as he did. Your features revealed by the lights from the restaurant behind the two of you and the almost-full moon, your hair bathed in the same shy light, the ghost of a smile on your lips, your naked feet in the water… For once, he allowed himself to sink in the sight of you. To simply stare at you, take you in, to treasure the memory and never forget what you looked like under the moon tonight.

It had been years. Years of friendship, and years of him loving you in silence, from afar, too scared to break what he has with you if he reached for something more. Years of trusting you with everything but the truth about his feelings for you, years of you trusting him just the same, years of you supporting him and him encouraging you.

And there you were now.

Sitting on a beach in Malibu, a little tipsy under the moon, with salty waves tickling your toes, and your dreams in your hands. You had your own flower shop now. His solo career was a stunning success. And after all this time, you were still around. What else could he have been asking for?

He bit his tongue before the answer could form in his mind.

"It's such a lovely night," you sighed, tearing him out of his thoughts.

"It is," he nodded, looking up at the stars.

"When are you going home? Will you leave L.A to see your family before you release your first single?"

"It doesn't matter," he pushed your question away. "Not right now."

You let your head fall on his shoulder. A simple gesture you had made a thousand times before, but it still brought a smile to his lips every time. He looked for your hand between the two of you, fingers navigating against the soft sand until he could wrap his fingers around yours. This time, he was the one bold enough to hold your hand. His rings were cold against your skin, but the familiar feeling was reassuring.

The air smelt of seaweeds, salt and stars, and as the wind blew around your two frames, it carried the scent of a distant bonfire too. Its light was visible on your right, a distant red spot down the beach. From time to time, dark silhouettes seemed to block parts of its flames, and you wondered if people were dancing there.

"I don't want tonight to end," you whispered, your voice barely loud enough for Harry to hear.

"Me neither," he admitted.

"But you're going to release your album in just a few months! And I'm finally going to be able to listen to it! These are good things to look forward to!"

He hummed in agreement, but shook his head all the same.

"Still… I don't want tomorrow to be here just yet."

He threw his head back towards the sky, and it felt like the stars were calling your name.

"I want to stay like this, just you and me, for a little longer," he went on in a whisper. "It's nice."

Your eyes drifted back towards the distant bonfire, and the silhouettes moving around it. You wanted to be like them: dancing forms against the flames, without a worry or a care in the world. Without hesitation on how you felt about your best friend, without worry about your shop, without sadness at the thought of Harry who might be leaving soon for England, and for a tour around the globe in a few months. You wanted to be a shadow dancing against golden flames, mingled with embers floating towards the stars. Maybe then, you'd forget all that your mind couldn't seem able to push to the side. Maybe then, your heart would not ache the way it did now.

You had to try, at least.

"I want to dance."

The words left your lips without you really thinking them, and Harry turned to you with an eyebrow raising in surprise.

"Now? Here?" he asked.

You lifted your head and nodded, turning to him with a small smile.

"Let's dance. We haven't danced in ages."

He let out a laugh and shrugged.

"Okay."

He took his phone out of his pocket while rising to his feet, offering you his other hand to help you stand as well.

"What music do you want?" he asked, but you shrugged, letting him choose.

"Not something too… jumpy."

"Jumpy?" he mocked with a grin.

"You know what I mean," you rolled your eyes, but couldn't refrain your own smile.

He went through the music on his phone, and stumbled on a song that made his heart ache. He remembered that night as if it were the day before. He couldn't believe it had been more so long that you had travelled all the way to Jamaica just to see him...

He selected the song and put down the phone in the sand, safe from the waves that still went to rest on your feet.

The first notes of Girl Crush rang in the air, and you stared at him intensely. It seemed that the space around you had filled with electricity, that strings had appeared to connect the two of you.

He took a step towards you and offered you his open hand.

"Well, you asked for a calm one, didn't you?" he gave you a smile, but you could read something more in his green eyes. There was something anxious in his gaze, something that looked almost like fear.

He had learned long ago to hide his nerves because of his job. After all, he had to fool thousands of people that being on stage was as easy for him as breathing. He was so good by now at hiding how he truly felt. And now, only a few people who knew him more than well could have caught a glimpse of how terrified he was at the idea of you rejecting him.

But you took his hand, and took a step towards him as well, meeting him halfway.

He wrapped his arm around you, while you rested your hand on his shoulder, and you began to dance.

Light from the house where your friends were partying, and the moon and stars shedding their pale light to glimmer on the ocean, the scent of the waves and your feet moving in the water that went up to your ankles sometimes made the moment ethereal. Under your feet, the sand was soft and moved with the rising tide.

It felt as if the world was just the two of you for now. You moved closer to each other without even noticing your movement, and before you knew what you were doing, Harry's cheek rested against your temple.

You had closed your eyes, but Harry was looking down at your joined hands. The lyrics were stirring something inside of him, something so fundamentally painful, so earnest and raw that he was struggling to breathe. Because it was true… that song was all he wanted. Oh, if only your hands could stay like this: holding to never let go.

You started to softly hum along the melody, and he finally closed his eyes, letting your voice soothe him, heal his aching heart.

Eventually, he started to sing along as well, voice low and only a whisper, so close to your ear that you could feel his breath against your skin, which sent shivers all over your spine.

I don't get no sleep, I don't get no peace

You noticed how he changed the lyrics, and it made your heart stop, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. He tightened his hold as he spoke the words that echoed too much with his own heart for his liking.

Thinking about him under your bedsheets

But he went on as if nothing had happened, and you thought that perhaps it didn’t mean a thing. You felt guilty for even imagining something for a second. After all, you had a boyfriend, and it wasn't the man dancing with you now.

Why wasn't he dancing with you now, actually?

The way that she's whispering

The way that she's pulling you in

Your hand moved from his shoulder to the nape his neck, fingers passing the collar of his shirt to lose their tips in his hair. His skin was warm against your hand, and his hair as soft as you imagined they would be.

Lord knows I've tried

I can't get her off my mind

Somehow your heads had turned slightly, so he could rest his forehead against yours, your noses brushing against each other. He tightened his hold on you again, and there was no space left between your two bodies anymore.

If you could barely breathe, you also felt completely safe in his arms.

If his heart was pounding, he also felt like he was exactly where he belonged.

I wanna taste her lips

Yeah, 'cause they taste like you

His voice was still nothing more than a deep whisper, but you had fallen silent again. Every word he let out made you feel his breath against your lips.

I want to drown myself in a bottle of her perfume

I want her long blond hair

You pulled away just enough to open your eyes and look at him, and he did the same in response.

I want her magic touch

His voice broke at the end of the next verse, and the pain in his voice and his green eyes were too real for him to be merely singing someone else's words.

Yeah, 'cause maybe then

You'd want me just as much

He couldn't let out another sound, and merely stared at you. The song went on, but none of you really paid any attention to it anymore. You stopped swaying, but kept on holding onto him, and he didn't release you either.

You noticed that he was out of breath, you noticed that he glanced down at your lips before forcing his eyes back on yours.

And he should have stopped himself the same way he had stopped himself dozens of times before. He should have thought about your boyfriend, how you deserved better than your best friend messing up completely. But as he looked in your eyes, he couldn't think about anything but you.

So, this time, he leaned to gently rest his lips against yours.

His gesture was hesitant and shy, and he remained motionless, merely brushing his lips against yours, waiting for your reaction. And if he were honest with himself, he was waiting for you to push him away.

But instead, you moved closer to press your lips against his more firmly, and he could have sworn that his heart had burst into a sun right there and then.

His hand left yours to cup your jaw, his palm moving to your cheek and fingertips reaching your hair. Your own hand found a place to rest against his heart. You could feel the organ beating so fast in his chest…

The music died out, but none of you paid any attention to it. Instead, it was only the soft sound of the ocean and the party up the beach again. Harry reckoned that the world could have collapsed around him and he wouldn’t have noticed anything.

Because he was kissing you, and it felt right. Never before had he done anything that felt so right. Only music, maybe, made him feel this way: like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, that he was meant to be where he stood.

And you would have been lying if you said that you didn't feel the same about him.

It was soft and loving. There was no better word to describe your first kiss. It was a little desperate too. But most of all, it was a mess of tangled shaky breaths, and trembling lips pressed together and closing on each other, and gentle touches, and shy tongues meeting halfway. It was an imperfect gesture turned into a tender perfection.

And never before had any of you felt so overwhelmed by a simple kiss.

You eventually broke away, stunned, out of breath, keeping your eyes closed for a moment longer in an attempt to compose yourselves. But your heart was doing all these strange things in your chest, and Harry's hands were shaking. Harry rested his forehead against yours, keeping you close to him and hoping that somehow, the dream would linger just for a little longer.

But you had to open your eyes again eventually. You had to stare back at Harry's green eyes as they filled with unspoken questions, and you had to bring the rest of the world back into your focus.

And in this world you had forgotten for a moment was your boyfriend, and your thoughts quickly drifted towards him.

And you were not this kind of person…

Harry seemed to read your thoughts in the fear that slowly grew on your features, and he panicked at the thought of losing you.

He dropped his hands to his sides and took a step back.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out. "I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have done that."

But you shook your head because… because you knew he didn't really mean it. You knew he wanted to kiss you. You knew now that you weren't the only one who was lost with feelings. But you had a boyfriend, and if there was one thing that you weren't, it was a woman who would cheat, no matter if Harry was your best friend, no matter that your feelings for him were unclear, or that clearly his feelings were just as blurry as yours. None of it mattered.

You were with Gareth, and that was the only important thing.

You didn't say a word and merely turned towards the restaurant again and hurried back to the party.

Harry didn't try to hold you back. He didn't call after you, nor did he follow you to the party. Instead, he remained motionless on the beach, realizing that this time, he might have lost you for good.

*******************************************************

Taglist :  @ponycake27​ @horsesreign​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​ @stuckupstucky​@snek-shit​ @suchatinyinfinity​@i-padfootblack-things​  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​@jigsawlover10​ @emyyjemyy​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters​ @staringmoony​@madamrogers​ @cronias13​​ @stylesfics-xx​ @mellamolayla​ @mariaenchanted​

[middleearthpixie]

Seven Days ~ Chapter Twenty-Eight

Firefighter Frerin Durin died in a fire set deliberately. But after he helps his brother, Thorin find happiness, Frerin is offered a second chance. He has to prove himself worthy by righting the one major wrong in his life. Otherwise, history will repeat and he will die for good this time. The catch? He has seven days in which to do this and isn’t even certain what his major wrong is.

At least, he doesn’t know for long. 

Syd Prescott has known Frerin since high school. She spent one night with him and then he vanished from her life. Now, he claims he wants to make it up to her, to right was he realizes was his major wrong. But can she trust him? And can he prove to her that she can before it’s too late? 

Pairing: Modern!Frerin x OFC Syd Prescott

Characters: Frerin, Syd, 

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.7K

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

December 15th

Wednesday 

Syd stood in the doorway of her bedroom, just watching as Frerin swept his long sleeved tee shirt over his head. His back was to her and she couldn't help but just… admire… the layer of muscle sculpted across that back, across his shoulders. A sigh rose to her lips at the way his hair just brushed along his nape. It needed a trim, but she wouldn’t complain. She liked it longer, wavier. 

She’d never felt for any one what she felt for him and in some ways, that scared her. She knew she could trust him, but at the same time, she knew Tori was out there somewhere, just biding her time until she could somehow bring him back to the other side with her. Syd couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let it happen.

“I know you’re there,” he said without turning around. “What’s up, Syd?”

“Nothing. I’m just… admiring the view.”

He turned toward her then, reminding her that the view was impressive all around. Because he was absolutely impressive from head to toe. But then he scowled. “Syd.”

“What? I am. You’re cute, Mr. Durin.”

“Cute?”

“Yeah. Cute.”

He folded his arms, leveling her with a long look. “Give over, Syd. What’s going on?”

“I can’t think the boyfriend is cute?”

That earned her a smile even as his eyes remained serious. “I thought you thought calling me the boyfriend was, and I quote, so seventh grade, end quote.”

“It is. But it makes you happy.”

“Syd.”

She crossed over to slip her arms about his waist and peered up at him. She knew she had to tell him what she and Gram planned, and she knew he wouldn’t like it. She couldn't even guarantee he’d agree to it, but that was really immaterial. They were doing what they planned, whether he agreed or not. 

That in mind, she eased one hand free to bring it up to the nazar, nestled in the hollow of his neck. “We have to talk, like I said earlier.”

“It’s about Tori, isn’t it?” His voice went somewhat flat. “And whatever you and your grandmother were huddled up discussing.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Syd,” a sigh worked into his voice as he drew back and stepped away from her, “why do I think I am not going to like this?”

“Because you probably won’t. But, you will agree to it, because you love me and you trust me, right?”

“Syd.”

“Right?”

He rubbed his face with both hands, then promptly raked them through his hair. “Fuck.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Yes, Syd. I will because yes, I do, and yes, I do. But—”

“No,” she interrupted softly, shaking her head, “no but, it’s yes or no and even if it is no, we’re doing it anyway because we have to.”

“And Gram is on aboard with whatever it is.”

“She is. Frerin, it’s the only way either of us can think of to get rid of her for good.”

“And if it goes wrong?”

“It shouldn’t.”

“But it might.”

“It might, yes.”

He sank against the dresser, arms folded, expression grim. “And I don't get a choice or a say.”

“No. Not this time.”

“Syd.”

“But when it’s over and everything is fine, I promise not to say I told you so and we can run off to Aruba and get married and maybe never come back.”

“You promise?”

She nodded. “I promise.”

He stared at her a long moment, then a heavy sigh worked its way up from the soles of his feet as he reached for the hoodie draped across the foot of her bed and dragged it on over his head. “Okay. I’m in, whatever it is.”

****

Frerin scowled, shaking his head. “No. Forget it. I take it back. I’m not going along with this.”

“You don't have a choice,” Syd told him.

“The fuck I don’t. No fucking way, Syd. This is stupid.” He shoved up from his chair and stalked across the kitchen to the back door, which opened with a creak and slammed with a satisfying rattle of glass panes.

He thumped down the three steps to ground level and didn't look back as he marched across the back yard to the line of white pine and blue spruce trees separating the Prescotts from their neighbor. It was freezing cold out, and there was still at least three inches of snow on the ground, but Frerin didn't care. He just needed to be out in the cold, in the icy fresh air. Fury bubbled through him with enough heat, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see the snow around his feet melt. 

Syd couldn't be serious in asking him to do what she suggested. She just couldn't be. And yet, he knew she was just as serious as she sounded. And she honestly thought he’d want any part of it. 

The door opened and his gut kinked as Gram came down the steps, wrapped in a long, dark gray woolen cloak. Her silver hair, normally kept neatly pulled away from her face, was loose and for a moment, as the wind blew and swept it out behind her, it reminded him of angel’s wings.

“If Syd sent you out here to change my mind,” he told her gruffly, “tell her it won’t work.”

“She isn’t interested in changing your mind, Frerin,” she told him, her voice calm and even as she joined him at the trees. “She doesn’t need your permission.”

“You’re going to let this happen? You’re going to let her do this? What if she’s wrong?”

“I am, and I am, and we have to hope she isn’t.”

“We have to hope—are you kidding me? No,” he shook his head, “I want no part of this, Mrs. Prescott. It’s insane. I’m not letting her… letting her fucking kill herself to do this.”

“You came back,” Gram pointed out calmly. “And there is no reason why she would not be given the same chance.”

“And if she isn’t?”

“She is willing to make that sacrifice if it means you’ll be safe. And that’s why she will be given the same chance.”

“And you’re okay with this?”

“Okay with it?” Gram shook her head. “No. I’m not. But I trust her. I’ve known these girls since before they were born, Frerin. I nurtured them and honed their gifts and I know them better than their parents knew them, better than they know themselves. And I trust her.”

“Mrs. Prescott, if it goes wrong and she doesn’t come back…” Frerin’s throat tightened as he glanced toward the house. He could just make out Syd’s silhouette at the kitchen window and to his horror, his eyes stung at the sight of her. “I can’t take that chance.”

“Frerin, you are not being given a choice.” Gram’s hands came to rest on his shoulders and he almost winced as her fingers tightened against him. “You have to trust her. You keep saying she can trust you, it’s time for you to believe that same about her.”

“I do trust her. But this is so fuck—sorry, so final if it goes wrong.”

“I know.” Gram shook her head. “So you have to hope it doesn’t.”

“I can’t do that.” He looked from the house to her once more. “I’m trained to be prepared for anything before I go in. Hope for the best isn’t in my bag of tricks.”

“And what happens if it goes to hell, like the warehouse fire that almost killed you?” 

Her voice was barely audible, but her words were like a slap in the face. “I know what you’re doing, what you’re going to say and—”

“You gave Syd your mask even though you’ve been trained to not give it up, to take your chances on getting the person out in time because if you both end up with smoke inhalation, you’ve cost two lives. Yet, you gave her your mask and I’ll wager you didn't think twice about it.”

“She wasn't breathing.”

“And it ended up with you almost dying a second time.”

“This is different.”

“This is the same. Only now she’s giving you her mask. And you will take it.” Gram’s fingers eased on him and it might have only been his imagination, but the nazar seemed warmer against his skin. “And when this is over, the two of you will begin your life together, without that… bitch hovering in the shadows.”

He smiled then. “Language, Mrs. Prescott.”

“I’m old,” she told him, “I’ve earned the right.”

As her hands fell away from him, he reached up to rake his fingers through his hair. “I’m not good at sitting back and hoping for the best. I put out the fires, I don't sit back and wait for someone else to do it for me.”

“This time, you have to.”

He met her eyes. They were brilliant blue, sharp and clear, and another oath bubbled to his lips, but this time, he kept it at bay even as he shook his head. “I don't like this.”

“I don’t, either,” she admitted softly. “But, this is how it has to be.”

The kitchen door opened and he didn't have to look to know Syd stood on the small back porch. Even with his back to her, he had the perfect view of her—the wind ruffling through her beautiful dark red hair, her turquoise eyes serious, and he could even see her worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, as he’d seen her do more than once since he told her the truth about what happened to him.

The thought of her putting herself in danger, of putting herself in Tori’s path, scared him to his core. He would rather die himself a third time than to see any harm come to Syd, and he was terrified that the harm that was about to befall would not be able to be undone. He had no guarantee. She had no guarantee. 

She could only hope.

Snow crunched softly and he turned to see her striding toward him, her expression serious. She glanced at her grandmother as she reached them. “Can you give us a minute, Gram?”

Gram nodded. “Of course. We’ll go whenever you’re ready.”

Syd managed a slight smile. “Thanks.”

Gram caught Frerin’s hand to give it a hard squeeze, one that almost made him wince, it was so tight, and then made her way back to the house, leaving him to gaze down at Syd. Christ, he wished he had the words to tell her exactly how he felt about her, because it wasn’t anything he’d ever felt for anyone else. It was more than what he’d felt as a horny teenager. More than what he’d felt as a horny adult last summer. 

“I love you.” It was so fucking lame, but it was the best he could do, and without thinking, he brought his hands up to cup her face. “And you better come back.”

“I will.” She laid her hands over his, her eyes closing briefly as his thumbs grazed along her cheeks. And when they opened again, he was blown away by how beautiful her eyes were—he’d never seen eyes the color of hers, the perfect blend of sea and sky. 

“If you don’t,” he told her softly, “I’m coming after you and I will find you.”

“Frerin, you have to trust me.”

“I do. It’s Tori I don't trust.”

“I don’t, either. And I’ve planned for that. I’ll be okay.” She swallowed hard and his heart skipped a beat as she cleared her throat then and added, “But, if I don’t—”

“No,” he cut her off, shaking his head, “you aren’t saying this, honey. You are coming back because I really don't think the Big Guy will be happy to see me in the state I’ll be when I get there. You’re coming back and we’re going to Aruba and we are not leaving until you’re my wife. Got it?”

Her eyes grew shimmery. “Frerin, you have to listen to me, okay? If something goes wrong—”

“Syd—”

“If it goes wrong,” she broke in, her voice soft, but firm, “I don't want you dwelling on it, okay? You have to promise me, you’ll go on and let yourself fall in love again. I don't want you to be alone and I don't want you to be unhappy.”

He shook his head. “I can’t top you, Syd. You’ve ruined me for any other woman. So, you better come back, or I’m dying a monk.”

“Frerin.”

“I swear to Christ, the only sex I’ll have is with myself.”

“Frerin.”

“You’re coming back.”

“I know.” She nodded. “If only to keep you from jerking it clean off in the next year.”

Despite his black thoughts and the sense of foreboding creeping in from all sides, he smiled. “Deal.”

Her hands slid down along his arms, and she shifted to then ease her arms about his waist. He folded his arms about her, gathering her close, and when she gazed up at him, his heart stopped beating for a moment at the emotion in her eyes. “I love you, Frerin.”

“I love you, too, Sydney.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He smiled and bent to her, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss that he felt clear through to the center of his being. She leaned into him, her arms slipping around his waist, and as she pressed flush against him, heat shot through him. 

The wind kicked up then, and as darkness crept in, the air grew frostier. Frerin closed his eyes as Syd pulled away and tucked her head against his chest. More than anything, he wished they didn't have to do this, that he could just keep her right where she was, safe in his arms.

But, he couldn’t. As much as he hated to admit it, Syd’s plan was the only thing that stood a chance of working. The margin of error was beyond razor thin, the stakes too great to think about.

They had no choice and he hated that almost as much. Syd sighed softly, her, “What are you thinking about?” as soft as the wind about them.

“I’m thinking I wish this was already over and we knew how it ended.”

She lifted her head to gaze up at him. “It will be soon and everything will be all right.”

“I sure as shit hope so, Syd.”

She nodded. “It will be.”

The kitchen door opened then and Gram called, “You should both come inside before you catch pneumonia.”

“She’s probably right,” he said, taking a step back. “When do we put this into motion?”

“Gram and I are heading up to the mall in a little while. I figure Christina will be suspicious, but her curiosity will get the better of her. At least, I hope it does.”

“And I just sit here and wait and hope for the best.”

His gut kinked as she slowly nodded. “Yeah.”

“Syd.”

“I know. It sucks. But when it’s over, Aruba, a wedding, and then a wedding night.”

He managed a weak grin. “Sure, Syd.”

“Trust me, okay?”

“I do. I know it doesn’t look like I do, but I do. I’m just…” He hesitated, drew in a slow breath, and exhaled it even more slowly. “I’m scared, Syd.”

“Yeah, me, too.” She caught him by the hand and tightened her fingers about his. “This time tomorrow, this will all be over. Like Scarlett O’Hara said, soon this will all be over and we can go back to Tara.”

“Who?”

He grinned as she rolled her eyes at him. “Frerin.”

“What? I’m serious.”

She tugged on his hand and he reluctantly let her lead them back to the house, where Gram was waiting with her car keys in her hand. Frerin tried to ignore how his gut kinked and roiled and threatened to revolt on him as Syd turned to him, brushed his lips with a light kiss, whispered, “I love you,” and then was gone out the front door. 

[echodrops]

Home and a Half Pidge Headcanons

An ask I got yesterday reminded me that I never posted the HaaH headcanons for Pidge like I promised, so here they are! (I’ll answer the actual ask as soon as I can with some new material instead of headcanons I already had written... oops...)

Anyway, without further ado, some headcanons for Pidge related to my fic Home and a Half!

Pidge:

- Grew up in the picture of the nuclear family: mom, dad, two kids, dog, nice upper-middle-class house in a quiet neighborhood, dinner on the table at 7:30pm on the dot… Of all the paladins, Pidge had the most stable and “average” childhood… at least on paper.

 - In reality, there is not a single person in the Holt family who isn’t eccentric as fuck. Grandma Holt? May or may not still be an active intelligence agent for MI6. The dog? Woofs in Morse code. Auntie Ariana? Has actually seen the Jersey Devil. Colleen Holt? Has killed a man. If you ask Pidge, she’ll say that her upbringing was perfectly normal and she’ll genuinely mean it, but this is a consequence Pidge having no idea what “normal” even means.

 Rest under the read more to save your dash:

- Not actually a girly-girl when she was young. Although they’re eight years apart and thus unlikely to be mistaken for one another, very early on Pidge got frustrated by how similar she and Matt look, and she definitely did not want to wear his tacky hand-me-down clothes, so she pitched a royal fit and insisted on wearing dresses and hairbands so that her family would have to buy Pidge all her own things. (They probably would have bought them anyway if she’d just asked calmly, but Pidge was three at the time, and they were all very impressed by her grasp of cause and effect.)

 - Of course, when Matt disappeared on the ill-fated Kerberos trip, those tacky hand-me-downs ended up being some of the most important items in Pidge’s life. Even outside of infiltrating Garrison, wearing Matt’s old clothes was one of the few comforts Pidge would allow herself—when she cut her hair and put on his baggy shirts, for a second, looking in a mirror, she could almost convince herself he was still there—

 - Pidge has no intention of changing the way she dresses or styles her appearance until she’s reunited with Matt and her father. After that? Well, they may not be the coolest looking things ever, but Matt does have a point that baggy t-shirts are very comfy…

 - And okay, because I’m sure everyone expected this headcanon first: Pidge and gender is a surprisingly uncomplicated subject. Side note before I go further: I’m sure everyone has their own headcanons for this and none of what I say here should be taken as rejecting or invalidating any other fan’s views on Pidge. The only thing invalid in the Voltron fandom is canon. Anyway, I personally like to imagine that Pidge is very ambivalent on gender. There is so much else going on—the war, Sam and Matt being missing, freaking giant robot space cats—that sitting down and sorting out the question of “Do I identify as male, female, nonbinary, or anything else?” is just really, really low on Pidge’s to do list. Pidge thinks of Pidge as “Pidge” and even that’s rare because Pidge doesn’t sit around thinking about herself or what other people think of her.

 - In fact, what strangers think is, in general, extremely low on Pidge’s radar. Although she used to be more self-conscious due to bullying from both classmates and her teachers, the combination of her parents’ consistent support and Matt’s… extreme tactics (“I’m telling you Pigeon, nanobots in their lunches will solve all your problems.” “That’s illegal, Matt.” “Nothing is illegal until you get caught.”) Pidge (mostly) overcame the phase of being affected by other people’s opinions. Who cares what strangers think? Absolutely none of them will ever be even close to as smart and talented as her family anyway. (My IQ is three times yours, your argument about my gender is literally invalid.)

 - By the way, I’m using “her” simply because that’s what I’m used to seeing in the fandom and to keep the fic and headcanons consistent, but in the functional world of HaaH, Pidge answers to any pronouns and doesn’t have a preference for any set in particular over others. In fact, Pidge is used to going by different sets of pronouns coming from different people, and might be “he” to one person, “she” to another, and “they” to yet someone else. Pidge is just… Pidge.

 - Again, with the war and Voltron and missing family and literally everything else going on--and the fact Pidge is far more practical than all of the rest of her fellow Team Voltron members combined--she isn’t wasting time and energy doing something as troublesome as falling in love with an alien. (“Keith, can’t your melodrama wait until after we win the war?” “My drama waits for no man.” “Then please explain how you and Lance manage to engage in synchronized dumb-fuckery at least three times a week.”) Eventually, after life has settled down and Pidge has had some time to think about it, she’ll realize that the reason she somehow managed to avoid any romantic entanglements in space isn’t because she’s just much more mature than her teammates (although this might be true)—it’s that she’s just not really interested in romantic engagements with anybody, period. 

 - Pidge’s one true love is discovery; she feels far more passionate about knowledge and learning new things, encountering new puzzles, and grasping new concepts than she does about anything else. In between all her creations and codes and experiments and observations, it just doesn’t feel like there’s room—or that there needs to be room—for a romantic relationship with a real person.

 - Pidge will make room for friends though, if and when they insist on worming their ways into her life. She tends to be a fairly private person who has never really had a large friend group (back on Earth, before Garrison, there wasn’t anyone but Matt and her parents who really understood her, and she didn’t have much in common to discuss with children her own age), but once someone earns Pidge’s trust, she does open up and form close bonds and she will give her all to help and be there for her few, but close, friends.

 - Meeting Hunk at Garrison was a huge revelation. Up to that point in Pidge’s life she had never really met any young person outside her own family with a soaring genius-level IQ that was a match for her own. Although she and Hunk bicker frequently because their approaches to science are extremely different, she’s still over-the-moon to have someone who doesn’t stare at her like she’s talking gibberish whenever she goes off on one of her tangents.

 - If you ask Pidge, she will violently swear up and down that Lance never and in. no. way. reminds her of Matt, fills in for Matt in the lame-older-brother role, or helps her miss her brother just a little bit less. That did not happen, never had a chance of happening, what are you even talking about—

 - But if you ask about Shiro, she will be flat-out honest and admit she totally thinks of him as Space Dad. It’s not her fault. Shiro literally hero worships Sam Holt (still to this day!!) and may or may not have taken on more of his mentor’s mannerisms in order to fill the leadership role for Team Voltron. Sometimes Shiro will say or do something and Pidge will be absolutely dumb-struck because he got that from my dad is an actual thing she has to deal with.

- “Pidge” is actually a derivative of “Pigeon.” Everyone in the Holt family has a bird-based code name. Mr. Holt is Eagle Two.

 - People often get the impression that Pidge is scatterbrained because she can talk about ten different things at once and pounces on leaps in her own logic that other people just can’t follow, but her thoughts and speech are very organized. It’s not her fault you couldn’t understand her system of organization if you tried.

 - Put Pidge on the spot on a subject she doesn’t know, though, and watch the awkward jump right out. (“Oh, you meant the pop band Galileo, not the person. You know, that’s really an easy mistake to make. You can hardly blame me when you stop to consider all the similarities between modern chord progression and the trajectory of supermassive objects like—”)

 - And if it’s not awkward, it’s defensive. Pidge may be hyper-intelligent, but she’s still very, very young, and it’s hard not to get snappish when challenged by people whose opinions she really does care about. She has a far quicker temper than Matt (who is a “revenge is a dish best served cold” champion), a trait she shares with their mother. Colleen, in turn, blames it on her having been born in New Jersey. Pidge has flipped so many tables on the Castleship that Coran and Lance eventually went around and bolted them all down.

 - Do not even so much as hint that Sam and Matt Holt might be dead instead of just missing in space. Keith is still scared after his last attempt at reasoning with Pidge about her family’s fate.

 - Has a bad hoarding habit. Back on Earth she had her parents there to insist she clean her room at least once a week, but in space, things are getting a bit crazy. The Castleship closets and cabinets can hyper-condense their contents and she’s STILL running out of room for all the neat doodads and parts and scientific wonders she finds on their adventures across the galaxy. Is definitely in the “Look, there’s still a mostly clear path to the door; it’s fineee” category. It’s not like she finds it hard to let things go once she’s gotten attached to them or anything. Nope. Definitely not.

 - Pidge’s mess is absolutely of the “everything has a proper place” type though. Move anything with her name on it and you will feel her wrath.

- As the only one of the Earth paladins to have technology on her when they were unexpectedly swept off to war, everyone on the ship relies on Pidge’s laptop for their monthly dose of Earth nostalgia. Good thing for them Pidge and Matt’s pirating skills put Pirate Bay to shame, and she’s got basically every Earth movie from 1980 to the present. She even has every episode of the timeless classic F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (Keith hates that show with a burning passion that even he cannot explain.)

 - Speaking of technology Pidge had on Earth—every single person in the Holt family is (and has been for decades) aware of the existence of aliens. Pidge’s family tree has been involved in communications, radio wave technology, and interpreting space observations since those fields were first invented. When Earth first identified patterns of waves that obviously corresponded to alien communications going on outside Earth’s galaxy, Pidge’s great- great- grandfather was there. When world governments covered up the discovery, he was the loudest voice of dissent. Since then, the Holt family has been deeply involved in military and space operations across several countries, operating from within an oppressive system they fundamentally disagree with, using their positions of authority to monitor the Milky Way and beyond, keeping tabs on what the aliens might be saying—and what messages Earth might be inadvertently sending back.

 - Of course this is top secret work—secret even from the Garrison and government where the Holts were employed. Other kids learn how to play piano and soccer; Pidge and Matt learned how to hack virtually impenetrable military databases and hide their data behind uncrackable ciphers instead.

 - But the Kerberos Mission was supposed to be safe. They’d all monitored the chatter so closely—there hadn’t been anything hostile anywhere even near Earth’s galaxy, no sign at all of any technologically advanced race like the Galra in years and nothing about one little Earth mission that would disturb any other intergalactic travelers anyway… Why would they...

 - Pidge is surprisingly athletic for a self-professed nerd. With youthful energy to burn and a family to save, Pidge took to Allura and Coran’s intense Altean training like a duck to water, and while she’s not quite Shiro or Keith when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, she can definitely holds up better than Hunk or Lance.

 - Favorite color is actually yellow, and if Green wasn’t totally The Coolest™ lion, she’d be sort of salty about Hunk getting the Yellow Lion instead.

 - Absolutely capable of cursing up a blue storm, and hasn’t been friends with Hunk quite long enough yet to remember to censor herself around him all the time like Lance does with his “Holy crow!”s. She’s trying, dammit!

 - Big on pets. Gets attached to pet-shaped creatures (whether living or robotic) very easily. 110% kept the space caterpillars, who live happily free-roaming the piles of space junk in her bedroom. The space caterpillars and the space mice do not get along, however, as the space mice do not take well to having their status as the favored fuzzy team mascot squad threatened. In their micro-Cold War, which is occurring without any of the ship’s humanoid occupants being aware, the space caterpillars are currently winning.

 - The caterpillars’ names are Copernicus, Kepler, and Newton.

 - Remember that one post about Lance drawing angry brows on the space caterpillar and siccing it on Keith? I very much accept that as canon. Pidge was Not Happy™ when she found out what Lance had done and she is NOT letting anyone else near her caterpillars again any time soon. Is very, very careful not to let Niresh see the space caterpillars so that they don’t end up stolen right from under her nose.

 - Speaking of the kids, Pidge is super awkward with them and skedaddles at the first sign of tears. Next to Allura, there is probably not any member of the team worse suited to babysitting duty. That said, as someone who has lost members of her family in the war, Pidge is probably the member of the team who most directly understands Dulsara’s anger and the children’s loss. That doesn’t mean she’s really ready to let herself sympathize with the Galra though, at least not until she finds her own family first.

- Pulls all the most bullshit moves in Monsters and Mana. Whenever the team reminiscences on the truly legendary moments from their campaigns, somehow Pidge is the star in all of them.

And that’s all I’ve got for now!

[maraudererasmut]

Black and White (Part XXII)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX | Part XX | Part XXI | Part XXII | Part XXIII | Part XXIV | Part XXV

((This one is a long one!! I’m sorry for posting so many in such a short period of time... I was just so excited, I couldn’t help myself!))

((TW: Drinking))

Remus dug through his tiny closet, searching for something— anything — that he could get away with wearing to the Halloween party.

There would be other artists there, so he couldn’t just show up without a costume. Lily had insisted that whatever he wore would be fine, but she also emphasized the fact that many of her friends would be dressing up.

There would also be professionals at the party, other gallerists and wealthy individuals— people that James knew and was friends with. Remus knew he couldn’t get away with some crazy outfit; he needed to look at least somewhat presentable, in case he had the opportunity to discuss his art career.

After significantly longer than he would care to admit, Remus finally settled on a fitting outfit; it was just costume enough to appease both crowds. He grabbed his coat and scarf and headed out of his flat, mentally preparing himself for the arduous task of pretending to be friendly.

When Remus arrived, there were pumpkin decorations scattered about the front yard and little strings of lights adorning the door. There was a warm glow pouring out the window, with shadows passing by every once in a while. As Remus approached the house, he could hear the low murmur of people talking and pop music playing in the background.

Ding dong.

Remus patiently waited, clutching a cheap bottle of wine nervously in his hands.

The door swung open and he was greeted by Lily, wearing an absurd amount of makeup. She had little brown freckles drawn on over her already freckled face, with a large black painted nose and white highlights on her cheeks and forehead. Her auburn hair was let down over her shoulders, and she had a headband with animal ears protruding from it. She wore a chocolate brown dress with a white belt and little black mittens. Remus couldn’t help but smile at his friend as he took in her home-made costume.

“What’re you supposed to be?” Lily teased as she gave Remus a once-over.

“I’m a werewolf,” he answered matter-of-factly. He turned his body around to show the little grey tuft of fur that protruded from his trousers. “See? I’ve got a tail and everything.”

Lily let out a joyful laugh and rolled her eyes.

“That is so low-effort, Remus! You’re just wearing your suit!”

“I have ears,” he said with a mock pout, pointing to two balls of fur that he had managed to fasten to his head somehow. “Anyway, not like your costume is more complicated. What are you supposed to be, anyway?”

Lily put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow at Remus.

“I’m a doe. Duh. I’ve got a tail too, you know.” She turned around and wiggled her bum slightly, and Remus had to remind himself that Lily was James’ wife and that he needed to not be staring at her tail. As Lily turned back to face Remus, her smile grew wider. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here.”

Remus lifted his bottle of wine and gave a nervous smile.

“Thanks for having me. This is for you guys… I’m sorry it’s not much…”

“Oh, Remus! You didn’t have to bring anything!” Lily took the wine from Remus’ hands before wrapping him in a hug. “Thank you! That’s so sweet. You… You really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Remus said, returning her hug. “But I wanted to.”

“Thanks…”

Lily pulled away and beaconed Remus inside. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath in order to mentally prepare himself. When he opened them, he gave Lily a grimace and followed her into the house.

The combination of guests attending the party was eclectic, to say the least.

From what Remus could tell, there were people from all walks of life filling James and Lily's home. The house was large— larger than any house Remus had been inside— and every room Remus could see had people in it. There were men in suits laughing over beers, there were people in eccentric costumes filling cups with punch, there were people on sofas, people in chairs, people standing, people walking around.

In fact, some of the people drifting through the house were holding trays filled with tiny appetizers. At first, Remus had assumed they were in costume, but he quickly realized that they were actual servers doing their actual jobs. Remus had to bite his tongue to keep from making a snarky comment at Lily.

"Welcome to our place!" Lily beamed. "Make yourself comfortable, Remus. Let us know if you need anything."

Remus responded with a stiff nod before Lily walked away to socialize with her other party guests. The artist glanced around and found himself a corner that seemed unoccupied.

"Remus!"

Remus looked up to find James walking towards him with open arms. He had face paint and clothing to match Lily's, but his headband had antlers in addition to ears. Remus smiled at his expressive friend and allowed himself to be scooped into an aggressive hug.

"Hey, James."

"I'm so glad you came! I was worried you weren't going to make it, especially when Lily said you were hesitant on coming. I'm glad you're here!"

"Thanks," Remus mumbled, pulling himself out of James' death grip. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Of course!" James' hand landed on Remus' shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. He looked Remus over and cocked at eyebrow. "Where's your costume?"

Remus rolled his eyes and gave a half-turn, showing James the back of his trousers.

"I've got a tail," he offered with a shrug.

"My god, the two of you! Learn to live a little!"

Remus furrowed his brow and was about to question what James meant when he was cut off by Lily's voice calling for her husband.

"Ah, duty calls!" James gave Remus' shoulder another affectionate squeeze before he sauntered off to join his wife. Remus was left alone with a bemused smile, pondering their peculiar interaction.

One of the waitstaff passed by Remus and offered him a strange concoction in a glass; seemingly some kind of Halloween beverage. With a shrug and a you only live once attitude, Remus accepted it. It was sweet and strong, a dangerous combination for an alcoholic drink.

"Evening, Mr. Lupin."

Remus turned around to find Sirius Black standing behind him, perfectly straight posture, chin lifted ever so slightly, arms tucked behind his back. The gallery owner had a wry grin on his face and his silvery blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Back to last names, I see," Remus teased, taking a deep swig of his drink and hoping for the alcohol to help relax him.

"Where's your costume?" Sirius asked, positioning himself beside Remus and staring out at the crowd of people that was steadily growing in size.

"Where's yours?" Remus retorted, mirroring Sirius' position, standing shoulder to shoulder with the other man.

Sirius was wearing an all black suit, complete with a black shirt and a black tie. He had his hair down, falling loosely across his shoulders, swept away from his face with a hairband, which had a pair of furry black ears. Like Remus, Sirius had a tail attached to his trousers, which the artist pointedly tried not to notice.

"I'm a dog," Sirius said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So I've heard," Remus retorted with a smirk. "But what's your costume?"

Sirius let out a bright, cheery laugh, garnering the attention of other party goers. It swooped through Remus and made his stomach drop, and the artist couldn't help but blush. Sirius' laugh was infectious, and Remus chuckled along.

"Sirius!"

Both men glanced across the room, where Dorcas was waving with a broad grin spread across their face. Sirius cocked an eyebrow and gave a nonchalant shrug, offering Remus an almost-apologetic smile.

"Duty calls," the gallery owner said, before nodding towards his friend.

"Go schmooze. I'll be fine here with my…" Remus raised his empty glass pointedly. "Whatever this is."

With a flash of a grin that seemed like it was reserved just for Remus, Sirius nodded his head and turned around. He swept across the room, offering people polite smiles and happy greetings. Remus thought back to the first night that he met Sirius, the way he commanded a room, the magnitude of his presence. This was the same Sirius— the gallery owner who knew how to chat people up and win over their hearts.

As impressed as Remus was, the soft-spoken Sirius from their intimate talk in the gallery was the artist's favourite version of the man.

——-

As the evening went on, Remus found that Lily was right— though he'd be damned if he ever told her that himself. Lily's friends from school did have a lot in common with Remus, and he enjoyed mocking the contemporary art scene alongside them.

They were quirky individuals, exactly the type of people that Remus had imagined he'd meet at art school, all wearing elaborate costumes with hand-made elements. They had a lot to talk about, constantly bickering over each other and chiming in with their thoughts. It was surprisingly fun, and Remus felt a pang of jealousy as he reminded himself that this wasn't real, that these weren't his actual friends. They were just being polite because they knew he was friends with Lily.

Remus brought his drink to his mouth and took a deep swig, vaguely wondering in the back of his mind if this was his fourth or fifth glass of mystery-halloween-drink. By the time glass four-or-five was finished, Remus was starting to feel noticeably dizzy; he bid the other artists goodbye and set out to find a glass of water.

He ended up nearly bumping into one.

"Remus!"

The artist glanced up and found himself staring into two pools of molten silver, shimmering in the sparkling Halloween decorations. He smiled at them, adamantly refusing to look away. Silvery blue was officially his new favourite colour.

"Remus, are you okay?"

Remus reached out a hand and pressed it into a black lapel. The fabric was so soft, he couldn't help but run his fingers across it.

"Yeah, 'm fine," Remus said with a relaxed grin. It was true. He was fine. For the first time in weeks, he was fine. He wasn't thinking about his art, he wasn't worried about his emotions, he was simply relishing the feeling of being buzzed, the slight numbness in his fingertips, the way the room seemed to shift and spin as he moved. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm… I'm fine?"

Remus felt two surprisingly strong hands brace against his arms, and he leaned into the touch, his fingers still grazing soft material.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Remus nodded aggressively, immediately regretting that decision. The room was feeling quite dizzy.

"Let's get you some water…"

Remus felt himself being guided across the room, he felt pressure on the small of his back, an open palm, fingers spread out. He liked that feeling.

Before he realized what was happening, Remus was in a kitchen, waitstaff dutifully ignoring him and the tall, handsome man beside him. He heard a sink running and felt a cool glass being forced into his hands.

"Drink," a voice commanded gently. Remus lifted the glass to his lips and dutifully did what he was told. He had enough wits about him to know that he needed water.

When Remus finished the contents of the glass, he felt it lifted from his hands and heard the soft klink of it being placed on the counter. He smiled, internally grateful for being helped. For some reason, the room refused to sit still, and he wasn't sure if he would have succeeded at pouring water by himself.

Remus glanced up into the silvery eyes and smiled. They were really pretty.

“What are?”

Remus furrowed his brow, confused at the question.

“Wha—?”

“What are really pretty?”

Remus blinked, staring at Sirius, vaguely wondering what his lips would taste like.

“Iunno…” Remus slurred, hardly paying attention to what he was saying. Why was Sirius so close to him? Why was he getting closer?

“Remus?”

Remus felt a hand grip his arm, giving a squeeze. The fabric under Remus’ fingers was so soft, and there was suddenly a bunch of it in his grip. Sirius’ face was closer than it had been a moment ago, but Remus couldn’t tell which one of them was moving.

“You’re so drunk right now...” Sirius had a smirk spread across his face and Remus hated it. It was the same smirk he had every time Remus did something awkward or embarrassing. It was the same smirk that Remus desperately wanted to get rid of.

“You wipe that smirk off your face, or I’m gonna wipe it off for you,” Remus muttered threateningly with a cheeky grin of his own. Sirius cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to say I’d like to see you try.

Before he knew what was happening, Remus’s lips pressed themselves against Sirius’. They were rough and chapped and it was barely a graze, but Remus’ stomach was exploding and his fingers were tingling and the room was spinning and he thought his heart might actually burst.

When Remus pulled away, he noticed the stunned expression on Sirius’ face, his lips slightly parted. For the first time since meeting the gallery owner, the man didn’t have a witty comeback. Instead, he moved forward, capturing Remus’ mouth with his own, moving his lips in time with the artist’s.

Remus closed his eyes. He felt a hand snake its way around him, grasping at his side. He felt his hands raise up of their own accord, weaving through soft, velvety locks, loose strands of hair tangled in his fingers. He felt Sirius’ hand in his curls, a thumb tracing along his cheek.

Then everything ended.

Sirius pulled away, the magic disappearing with him, and Remus desperately wanted it to return.

“I— I shouldn’t have done that,” Sirius murmured, taking a step back, putting distance between Remus’ body and his own. “You’re not thinking straight… I shouldn’t… I’m sorry, Remus.”

Come back!

Remus didn’t want the kiss to end. He didn’t want any of this to end. He wanted Sirius’ mouth and his lips and his tongue and his hands and suddenly everything was gone. He didn’t know what was happening, all he knew was that he was standing alone in the kitchen, wondering where Sirius was, wondering why he was there, wondering what to do.

Remus turned around and noticed a tray of mystery drinks. He needed one. He took it. It tasted so sweet, he could drink it all night. It was so good, and it made everything feel a little better...

[ericsonclan]

Gallop Into Our Hearts

Summary: James and Jesse get ready to play Barbie Horse Adventures after losing a bet to Violet and Prisha.

Word Count: 1388

Read on AO3:

Jesse and James were silent as they stared at the copy of Barbie Horse Adventures: Wild Horse Rescue. “Well, we have to play it,” Jesse picked up the PS2 controller and handed it to his boyfriend.

“Oh, we should take a picture as proof when we get it set up.” James rummaged around for his phone and placed it beside him.

“Yeah, or Prisha will say we bullshitted this whole thing,” Jesse pushed his long hair behind his head and continued to work on setting up the game on the TV. He couldn’t believe they had lost a bet with Violet and Prisha. Jesse internally kicked himself for betting on the wrong person. He should’ve known when it came to Sophie and Renata getting swept up in a prank that Renata would be the one to get caught.

But he didn’t choose that. James and him bet that Sophie would get caught for the prank. It was a series of pranks against Louis. Minnie had caught Renata in the midst of putting a whoopie cushion on Louis’ chair. It was just Jesse’s rotten luck that Sophie got caught seconds afterwards placing a trap that would make a pie fly forward and hit someone square in the face when they walked into the room. Sophie moved the strings needed and made sure there was extra whipped cream on top of the pie. The redhead had worked to time it perfectly; Louis was set to take his break any moment now but he had gotten distracted by Clementine so he wasn’t the one to trigger it.

Brody had triggered the trap instead. But because Sophie had placed it to hit Louis’ face it flew over Brody’s head and whacked Mitch who had come to surprise Brody with lunch. Brody scolded Sophie before laughing at Mitch’s pie splattered face and rushing off with him to help clean up. James and Jesse had lost the bet fair and square and now they had to play this game. Jesse’s hair fell in front of his face again. He grumbled as he rose and gathered his hair up. Taking the hairband off his wrist, Jesse quickly put his hair up into a man bun and resumed his task. James paused what he was doing for a second, distracted by the sight of Jesse in a manbun. His heart lightly fluttered and he looked down at the controller when Jesse glanced up.

“I think I got it set up,” Jesse pressed the power button then moved back to sit on the couch with his love. Soon the Playstation 2 booted up and the image of a forest in Playstation 2 graphics appeared on the screen. A bunny hopped forward and a happy smile appeared on James’ face.

“Aww, a bunny,” James looked over at his boyfriend with a soft expression. Soon the bunny was startled though as Barbie rode forward on her horse. The birds flew away due to the sound and Barbie charged forth on her steed, jumping over a fallen log. She pulled on the reins of her horse and stopped, smiling towards the camera. Seconds later the title screen appeared.

“Hi, welcome to Barbie’s Horse Adventures: Wild Horse Rescue!” Barbie’s bubbly voice appeared. Jesse looked at the screen with a small frown. He had no idea what to expect but he had to at least try to remain positive. There would be horses in this game and James was beside him. James seemed to sense Jesse’s mood and gently gave his hand a squeeze when suddenly Theodore appeared. The sphynx cat extended his body out with a stretch then reached up and looked for a potential cuddle spot.

“Hey, Theo. Come give Jesse some cuddles,” James patted Jesse’s leg and the cat hopped up and moseyed over. Curling up, Theodore immediately settled down in Jesse’s lap. Jesse gave his cat a few pats then looked back up at the screen. James scooted closer and gently placed his head on Jesse’s shoulder. Taking out his camera, he took a selfie of the two of them then a picture of the TV screen. With a few taps of his fingers, James sent off the text to Prisha to give proof that they were playing the game.

“Okay, let's start our horse adventures,” James excitedly spoke in his whisper-like voice. Jesse gave a small smile and pressed the start button. After a few seconds of loading the screen showed Barbie driving towards the stables with her friends. All of them talked excitedly about horseback riding together. The voice acting wasn’t the best but it didn’t surprise Jesse since it was a PS2 Barbie game. Barbie drove forward and was quickly greeted by the lady of the stables. She had gray hair and reddish eyes.

“Watch, she’s going to be the villain of this game,” Jesse joked and looked over at his boyfriend. James gave a gentle laugh.

“I don’t think there will really be any villains in this game,” James was soon proven wrong, however, when a storm struck and all the horses had escaped.

“I guess the storm was the villain all along,” Jesse commented then felt his heart beat quicken when James softly wrapped his arm around Jesse’s.

“Well, we’re gonna rescue all the horses!” James declared loudly. His boyfriend’s enthusiasm seemed to infect Jesse who smiled and started to get really into the game.

After picking out Barbie’s outfit they worked to design a horse. They ended up with a deep chestnut horse with a long light mane and beautiful dark hooves. After that was done the tutorial was next and both James and Jesse were itching to be done with that stuff so they could go on adventures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jesse ignored the lady’s instructions and tried to blast through them so they could go on the trails. It took another minute or two before the lady gave the all clear and Jesse pushed the analog stick forward towards the trails. Immediately James and Jesse got caught up in the game. Both of them wanted to check every single inch of the land while galloping on their horse. Jesse quickly shifted and sat at front of the couch to get a bit closer to the TV while James picked up Theo and placed the sphynx cat onto his lap.

“Jesse, could I braid your hair for a little bit?” James whispered in his love’s ear, tickling it.

“Sure, go for it,” Jesse smiled up at James then resumed his quest of collecting all the floating silver heart coins scattered around the area. James carefully undid Jesse’s man bun and began to run his fingers through Jesse’s hair. After a few seconds he slowly began to braid his boyfriend's hair while watching him play the game.

“Oh, oh! Jesse!” James pointed excitedly at the screen where a gray foal was chilling behind a gate.

“I see it, baby,” Jesse guided the horse forward a little ways then hopped off and opened up the gate. Jesse was soon guiding the foal over to a spot for one of Barbie’s friends to pick it up.

“We did it!” James locked eyes with Jesse and the two shared a smile. Leaning forward Jesse stole a quick, tender kiss then continued to play the game. The two continued to play the game, letting time slip away as they saved more horses, fed skunks to snatch keys and got all the silver heart coins they could find.

“Your braid is done,” James leaned forward and placed a warm kiss on his love’s shoulder. The romantic gesture made Jesse’s heart pitter patter. Quickly the couple’s attention returned to the game as Theodore slept peacefully in James’ lap. Before they knew it evening had arrived and they had to put down the game. Double checking that their progress had been saved, Jesse and James turned off the console and wandered into the kitchen.

“I’ll have dinner ready shortly,” James tied his cooking apron on then captured Jesse’s lips in a soft kiss before turning his attention to dinner.

“I’ll keep you company,” Jesse took a seat and the two began to gush about their favorite parts of the game. Both of them talked happily; they clearly couldn’t wait until they could go on another horse adventure with Barbie.