#the seat of the cushioned office chair she sat in

[cognitiveinequality]

when you want to go to sleep but there is An Odor in the room

[stellar-skyy]

hello dear <3 i was thinking an iced hibiscus tea for arlecchino, perhaps? feel free to decide the specifics and details on this one hehe

“i have an order ready for arlecchino! an iced hibiscus tea, for arlecchino!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: Arlecchino's child is struggling, but she is there to reassure them. ii. CWS & NOTES: no warnings applicable. platonic arlecchino & gn!reader. house of the hearth!reader. angst & hurt/comfort. 1.5k words. iii. A/N: the way i ran to get this order done- THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO WRITE THIS ILY /p

It was a cold day in the House of the Hearth when Arlecchino called upon one of her children for nothing more than a simple chat.

One of the unspoken rules of the House was that the most leisurely of discussions were only a preface to something deeper; layers of ulterior motives hidden underneath an innocent invite for tea. Some children had never glimpsed the privilege of being summoned to her office, while others found themselves carving a dent into her seat cushions with the number of times they sat in them. But one thing remained unchanging with every visit: their Father would send for them with a purpose, and they would not leave until it was fulfilled.

When [Name] received word that they were to visit Arlecchino’s office at 7:00pm sharp, their first instinct was dread; for the dozens of possible reasons for them being the one to be called upon. Musing upon the ‘why’s shifted their mood from the dull thrum of anxiety to sweeping waves of confusion. As far as they were concerned, they had no due cause for such a meeting with the Director herself; no failed missions to be reprimanded over, no shady plots of subterfuge to be exposed. They weren’t any rowdier or more troublesome than any other of the children, so the list of matters that would merit a visit was short.

Still, they knew better than to avoid the call. 7:00pm, they stood outside the office, hand poised over the door. They closed their eyes, knocking on it sharply and wincing at the echo that reverberated off the walls.

Three short raps. A smooth, calm voice, from inside the room: “Come in.”

The doorhandle creaked loudly as it turned. The door was old, and rather heavy, so it took a gentle shove to push it fully open to reveal the neat, cozy office inside.

“Ah, [Name], you’ve arrived.” Arlecchino greeted them as they entered. She was seated behind her desk as she usually was, with a full tea-set in front of her. As they slowly approached, she motioned towards the plush chairs opposite her. “Please, take a seat. I have been waiting for you.”

They quickly settled into the closest chair, hands folded in their lap. The room was quiet and cold; enough to send an uncomfortable prickle down their spine. Arlecchino paid no mind to their uneasiness; her hands were busy deftly arranging the teacups on the tray. Once she was satisfied with their placement, she then moved to pick up the teapot.

“I have some new tea from Liyue,” she hummed, gently tipping the teapot to let the dark red drink fill one cup, then two. Steam rose from each, cutting through the chill of her office. “Hibiscus. It’s quite sour, but I have added a spoonful of honey and sugar to the brew to sweeten it.”

She held one of the teacups out, and they clasped both hands around it with a murmured thanks. As they moved to take it from her, the side of their palm brushed against her fingers—icy cold, enough to make them shiver with a single touch.

“Your night has been well, I am assuming?” Arlecchino asked, taking a sip from her cup.

“Yes,” they murmur, bringing the tea to their lips. It was hot, but just enough not to burn their tongue. The honey she had added did little to mask the sour taste of the hibiscus, but it created a lightly sweet aftertaste that was pleasant enough to warrant a second sip.

“And your days, how have they been?”

They frowned, scanning her expression for any hint of what she wanted. She was clearly speaking to them in search of something, even if she didn’t say it aloud. A mission report, perhaps? They had already submitted the paper copy to her desk, but if she had missed it, or it had gotten lost with the rest of the paperwork handed in that day, she could be waiting for them to recount the mission directly.

“I returned from the mission you sent me on,” they blurted out. “I… it was a success, mostly. No casualties. Minimal injuries. And I also—”

“No need for a summary, I’ve read your report.” Arlecchino cut them off smoothly. “I want to know how you are, not how your mission went.”

They almost choked on their tea. Arlecchino raised an eyebrow at their sudden lack of composure, and they hurriedly covered it up with a half-hearted cough. “S-Sorry… you want to know how I have been… feeling?”

“That is correct.”

The air was thick with silence and the bitter smell of hibiscus, until they blurted out a quick “Fine! I’ve been fine, thank you.”

“Fine?”

“Fine, yes.”

“Interesting. I have been hearing curious things,” Arlecchino said casually. “Some of your siblings seem to have noticed a change in your behaviour. You aren’t sleeping as well, your mood has been significantly worse, you haven’t been joining during social activities. There is clearly something wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” they said weakly. Their feeble attempt at normalcy was nowhere near convincing enough to fool her, and they knew it. They were a passable liar in the best of circumstances, but she was the one person who would always be able to see right through them.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

They couldn’t look at her. One look into those sharp eyes, one wrong word and they would crumble right there in her office. They had to keep it together for as long as it took to convince Arlecchino they were alright and be dismissed from her office. They only needed to hold back the burning behind their eyes until they were far away from Arlecchino and her pressing words and bitter tea, and could quietly fall apart.

She was waiting for an answer, but they could hardly breathe through the lump in their throat, let alone formulate a response. If she stopped now, saw them for what they were—a lost cause—and gave up, it would be fine. But instead:

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, and something inside them snapped.

Tears burst from their eyes, spilling over their cheeks and down their face. They gasped, choking back a cry, holding a fist to their mouth to stop the hiccupping and wheezing breaths.

“I’m sorry,” they sniffled, rather pathetically. They kept their head ducked down low, unable to bring themself to look up into her undeniable face of disapproval. If they were any stronger, they could grit their teeth and make up a spiel about how they would do better next time, but instead they had to cry.

Now, not only were they going to be reprimanded for letting their emotions affect their work, they would be scolded for crying as well.

“Now, there is no need for crying.” Arlecchino stood, scraping her chair against the floor. They flinched away from the jarring sound, shrinking inwards with their tear-streaked face hidden in their hands. As much as they tried to stop them, the tears kept flowing into their palms. The walls were shifting closer with each second, and the thick scent of the tea filled their lungs until it choked them with that cloyingly bittersweet scent—

They jumped, as something cold touched their fingers. Their hands were carefully pried away from their face, revealing Arlecchino kneeling in front of them, with an unusually concerned expression on her face.

“I’m not upset with you, dear.” She said gently. “If that is why you are apologising.”

“You’re not?” they asked slowly. It had to have been a lie, but with how softly she said it, a part of them couldn’t help but wish it was true.

“Of course I’m not. But do you know why I’m not upset with you?” she asked. Hesitantly, they shook their head. “I’m not upset in the slightest, because I know whatever is clouding you is something that you will work through. You will emerge the victor of this battle, no matter what it is.”

They made a strangled sound, and felt a new wave of tears form. Arlecchino sighed, pulling them to their feet and against her chest.

“You are strong,” she said softly, carding her fingers through their hair. “You are capable. You are able to overcome whatever hardships you are facing, no matter how much they wear on you.”

She kissed their temple, her cool lips feeling almost warm pressed to their skin. While she lingered there, she whispered to them, softer than a mother’s touch. “You are strong enough to face this on your own, but even if you aren’t you will always have me here behind you.”

Their hands stretched out to grab the back of her jacket, shuddering out a breath. If Arlecchino minded their teary face being pressed against the front of her clothing, she didn’t comment on it; she only murmured more reassurances as she held them close.

“Just breathe, dear.” She whispered. “You’re going to be okay.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[ultralightpoe]

Full House - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Wow. I think I went too far with these, lmao.

Word Count: 5,258

Warnings: Dad!Eddie. That's it.

Description: Stepdad!Eddie and his girls that gives nothing but Uncle Jesse Vibes.

Part ll HERE

(Thank you for the gif @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal )

Enjoy!

(Eddie is not the step dad, he is the dad that stepped up)

Eddie Munson was many things in life. 

Triple senior, Satanic Freak, Dungeon Master, High School Graduate, Vecna survivor, Waynes son, and now Mechanic shop owner. But his favorite title came by accident, a truly brilliant accident of course. 

Nancy and Steve had planned a vacation for themselves, the first vacation they had since the birth of their adorable son Edward…..okay they named their kid Vince but Eddie thought that name was ugly and had spent the past 5 years continuously mocking them over it. So, in everything Eddie, he had named him Edward Jr. this week. 

Anyways, Nancy and Steve were having a very lovely trip at Niagara Falls while the rest of the group watched little man. While Eddie was at work Joyce Byers took him, and when Eddie had gigs Dustin took him and they ‘studied’ together which meant Dustin used him as an excuse to play games rather than study for his senior year. 

It was all going splendidly, until Eddie got a call in the middle of his work shift telling him that he would have to go down to the school immediately since Edward Jr -Vincent, had gotten into a little bit of a fight. 

So Eddie booked it, still in his greased out mechanic suit, a bandana on his head and the biggest concern that Steve’s kid would be kicked out of his school while he was away. What had he done to the kids? Had he broken their noses? Made them bleed?

Here was the problem, Eddie forgot that he was talking about Steve Harrington's kid, so when he arrived at the school to see his nephew bleeding and whimpering he realized the mistake. Vinny had gotten beat up, not the other way. 

“What happened, bud? Who did this to you?” Eddie was gonna fuck a kid up, he was gonna scalp someones son. He was going to absolutely annihilate some random ass boy. 

His nephew whimpers, using the back of his hand to wipe away a fresh tear as Eddie takes a gentle hand to assess the damage. “L/n….” 

Eddie was gonna kill this L/n punk. “What’d he do? He been bullying you?”

“You must be Mr. Harrington.” A saccharine voice fills the air, drawing his attention up to an older woman with narrowed eyes. 

“No, I’m Vinny’s uncle actually. Eddie Munson.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand which the woman glares at, and he realizes then that he was still covered in grease. So he pulls his hand back, embarrassed and nervous. “Sorry about that, rushed from work-”

“Never mind that. Let’s go.” The teacher nods her head. “You too Vincent.”

Eddie, now partially annoyed by the use of his nephews full name in such a tone, grabs his hand into his own and follows the old bat into the office where two more three more figures sit. The sight before him makes him stop, blinking slowly as a heat crosses his skin. 

Was he blushing? Shit, he was. 

Sat in the chair is the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with a small baby in her lap and a small girl softly crying sitting on the edge of the chair, hiding half her face in the womans shoulder. 

“Have a seat Mr. Minson.” The old bat snaps, moving around the desk to sit in the cushioned chair. 

“Munson.” Eddie corrects, sitting in the chair beside yours while trying to keep it cool. Vinny takes the arm of the chair, holding onto some of the fabric of Eddie’s jumpsuit tightly. The woman blatantly ignores him as she shuffles around some of the papers on her desk. So Eddie turns to you slowly, holding out his hand again. “Eddie Munson.”

“Y/n L/n.” You smile, taking his hand in your own. “I am so sorry about your son-”

“I prefer the parents not to talk until I explain.” Old bat snaps out making Eddie sit up straighter. “I brought you both in here because it seems that Motley has violently assaulted Vinn-”

“ASSAULTED?! They are 5!” You snap out as the girl, Motley, begins crying which leads the little baby in your lap to start crying as well. And right on cue Vinny himself starts crying. 

“Woah woah woah.” Eddie starts, pulling his nephew closer. “Bud, why don’t you explain what happened here?”

“She hit me!”

“He pushed me!”

“And then she bit me!”

“He pulled my hair!”

“Okay, ease it up.” You sigh, rubbing Motley’s back in soothing circles. “I am so sorry about your son, and I will totally get if you’re upset but they are 5 and I don’t really know about the assault word-”

“Miss. L/n.” Old bat interrupts but Eddie shakes his head. He will just handle this just as Nancy liked to parent. 

“What can make this better, huh Vinny? Like your dad always says, an apology?”

“Y-yeah….” Vinny whimpers which makes Eddie smile and imitate the whimper voice. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you can apologize, Motley?” You ask and Motley sticks out her tongue to Vinny.  Eddie tries to hold in his laugh at this, the little metal head was not backing down. “Motley.”

“Fine. I’m sorry Vincent.” She snaps out. “But the next time you pull my hair-”

“I think we got it.” Eddie laughs, picking his nephew up. “Let’s go get some ice cream and forget all about it.”

He smiles at the principal before tearing out of the room, keeping Vinny held above the ground as he rushes out of the school. He is rushing too fast to hear you calling behind him, until they make it out of the school. 

“Wait! Sir-” He turns, blushing wildly as he attempts a smile. You smile back, still holding the little baby in your arms and Motleys hand. “I am so sorry about all of that. Motley has been a bit…. Aggressive since her dad left. How about we all go get ice cream and it’ll be on me today?”

And then Eddie, as terrible as it is, gets excited. That meant your single, single and very pretty. So he smiles. “Sounds metal to me.”

The giggle that escaped Motley makes him happy. 

Soon enough Eddie found his entire world wrapped around his three ladies. You, the little 5 year old named Motley and the little baby Ziggy. (Both named after rock music. You don’t like it then name em something else.) 

His life did an entire tilt and he found himself going from the freak to being ‘Daddy Eddie’ as his girls liked to call him. 

- 

“Lemme get the straight.” Eddie starts, holding up one finger and leaning back as he takes in the scene before him, Motley covered head to toe in flour and smiling from ear to ear. “The bag of flour just happened to knock down from the shelf and fall on you?”

“Yup.” The girl nods, still smiling. 

“And you don’t know how the step stool got there?”

“It was there when I walked by.” She shrugs. 

“I see. And you didn’t know that we hid the cookies on that shelf?”

“You do?!” She feigns shock, bringing both hands up to slap her cheeks. “What a coincidently.”

“Yeahhhhh. What a coincidently.” He imitates, bringing his own hands up to slap his cheeks in shock, trying very hard not to laugh at this entire thing. From her covered in flour, or her grammar and especially not the innocent act. Do not laugh. Do not laugh.

  “Motley! What did you do?!” You cry, coming into the kitchen in the pajama shorts Eddie loved so much, to see your daughter covered in your flour. 

You had both been in bed…..snuggling….. When you heard the sound of bowls falling. 

“I am innocent!” Motley cries, waving her hands like she truly could not believe you would think it was her. 

“She’s innocent!” Eddie follows, doing the same as her. “Tell her you want a lawyer, Mot.”

“Motley, do not-”

“I want a lawn mower!” She snaps out before you could warn her away from it. The room falls silent for a second after her words slip out and both you and Eddie try to control yourselves, but before you know it you are cracking up. 

Tears springing from your eyes as you cackle, Eddie finds himself using one arm to lean against the wall as his other arm holds his ribs, pained to be laughing so hard. 

“What’s so funny?” Motley asks, a puff of flour blowing out as she giggles herself which just sends you and Eddie into yet another laughing fit.  “Mama! Daddy Eddie!” 

“What Mot?” You laugh, swiping the tears from your eyes. 

“You’re being mean!” “Aww, we’re sorry Motty.” Eddie coos, moving closer as you do as well. Before she knows it you are both launching to hug and kiss at her, covering both of you with flour as she giggles and screams to escape. 

Eddie steals her another cookie before you take her to the bathroom to shower her off, you both lay with her to read for bed before you lead him back to your room, taking a shower together before going to bed yourselves. 

- 

Eddie was completely at peace, laying on the couch after a long day at work, with Ziggy laying on his chest slobbering all over his shirt. Motley laid on his legs, her head shoved between his hip and the couch as she snored away. 

They were sick, and you were in the kitchen making some chicken soup. Eddie had been in charge of getting them showered and ready for dinner, the only problem was the steam from the shower had cleared their noses which meant about 10 minutes of getting them both to blow into a tissue. And by the time that was done all their energy was gone, so he led them to the couch to lay with them and try to ease their whimpers. 

They passed out soon after and he was trapped in a pile of heat from their fevers and their slobbering snores. But he was at ease right here, their warmth making him just as tired. One hand rubbing Ziggy’s back while making sure she didn’t roll off his chest while the other hand slowly rubbed Motley's scalp. 

Before he knew it he slowly began falling asleep himself, and by the time he woke up he felt your fingers rubbing his forehead very very softly, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“Do you want me to grab them?” You whisper, which makes him shake his head. 

“Let em sleep, they don’t feel good.” He whispers back, turning bleary eyes to Ziggy who was currently crawling her way up his chest, she whimpers and whines until she is able to put her mouth around his nose. The gums touch his skin as she sucks on his nose, and he laughs slowly. “Apparently she is teething too.”

“I’ll go grab her ice pack.” You laugh, moving to the kitchen to grab it as Motley wakes up. 

“Daddy…. I hurt.” She whines and he nods, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the couch to give her room to get up, she does and quickly crawls until her head is in his lap. 

“You want some soup? Huh pretty girl? Maybe we can listen to Elvis before bed.” He offers, watching a small smile break out on her face that she tries to hide. Eddie teases her by leaning to see it and laughing when she covers her mouth. Then he pulls out the big guns, taking up the Elvis voice as he stares at her. “Let’s go eat some soup sweetie pie.”

“Hunka hunka burning love!” She giggles, jumping up to dash to the kitchen, when she passes you she nearly knocks you over but you manage to lean out of the way just in time. 

“What’s the rush?”

“Promised her Elvis after dinner.” Elvis was the king of rock, which albeit wasn’t the rock that Eddie liked, but Motley had grown overly obsessed with him lately and he was cool with that. Anything his girl wanted. 

- 

Blurb song inspo hereeeee . 

The opening of King Creole began, Motley stood on yours and Eddie's bed wearing his sunglasses and his leather jacket. She held a ukulele he had found from a garage sale, and thought it was the perfect size for her to play guitar. 

Ziggy stood on the ground, using his nightstand to help herself stand as she swung her butt up and down to the music. 

Eddie stood by the bed, with his guitar in both hands as Elvis Presley's song blasted through the speaker, wearing his newer leather jacket and a random pair of shades he found on the dresser that he was sure belonged to you.  Motley giggles loudly as Eddie sings the lyrics, playing his guitar to it as Motley pretends to play guitar as well. 

You were at the store and Eddie was supposed to be practicing for his gig coming up, and when you left he had Ziggy set up in her little play crib before Motley came in with the leather jacket on. One thing led to another and they all were playing along. 

“There’s a man in New Orleans who plays rock n roll!” Eddie sings, leaning in at the same time Motley does so their noses press together and then leaning back as she does and shimmying their shoulders. 

They sing and scream, dancing along as you pull back into the driveway. When you come in to get his help to carry in the groceries you are surprised by the loud music, even more surprised by the Elvis playing with the Metal twist to it. 

“Eds?” You call from the door, watching both him and your daughter shimmy their butts to you as they sing before you lean and stop the music which makes them both twist quickly to find you. 

“MAMA!” Motley cries, excitement crossing her face as she whips his glasses off, dropping the ukelele on the bed and launching into your arms. “Daddy Eddie was teaching me guitar!”

“I see that.” You laugh, keeping a hold of her as you lean to kiss Eddie, laughing when you see him in a pair of overly feminine glasses. “Nice look baby.”

“I thought they were very metal.” He laughs, kissing your lips softly, holding your jaw before Motley groans out a ‘ewwwww’.

“Did you like the music?” You laugh, looking down at her. “Even Daddy’s guitar.”

“He made the song better!” She laughs before you set her down. 

“Go get ready. We are having Vinny and his parents over.” At your words she groans, rolling her eyes which makes Eddie laugh out and reach a ringed hand to pull one of her pigtails lightly. 

“What’s with the attitude, pretty girl? Your rock n’ roll career is already getting to you?” He laughs, leaning to kiss her cheek before sliding off his jacket, moving to pick Ziggy up and make his way down the hall as his baby girl giggles happily. 

“I hateeeee Vinny.” Motley groans, following behind and snatching the chain that hangs from his pants to slow him down. “Daddy Eddie, pweaseeee.”

“Ohhhh, not the puppy eyes!” He whines, looking up to the ceiling. 

“No!” You call, covering her eyes. “Not this time.”

- 

Eddie sat on the floor of the living room with his back to the couch, water dripping from his hair onto his exposed chest as Motley sat behind him taking a brush through his hair over and over. He wore a towel around his hips, keeping him covered waist down but all his tattoos exposed as rubbed lotion on them, allowing Motley to have fun playing makeover with his hair. 

You sat near him, your feet in his lap as you read through a book you have promised yourself you would finish for months now.. Ziggy played with her toy blocks near as well, babbling along to the movie that played on the tv. 

Nights like this were perfect, no hustle and bustle and he got to spend time with his favorite girls. 

He rubbed some lotion on the bat tattoos, not really paying attention to what was happening around him only to be interrupted by a sharp gasp falling from your lips. Instantly he is sitting up grunting a bit when the brush Motley was holding puls his hair. 

“What? What’s wrong?” “Ziggy is-” But he already sees her, wobbling as she tries to stand without using anything to help her, blabbering quickly. Excitement courses through him as he sits up, Motley giggling behind him. 

It takes her a moment but she stands, turning to you and Eddie with a tiny smile. “Come here. Come of Stardust.”

Eddie coos gently and Ziggy wobbles, moving to take a step before landing on her butt. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay baby. Try again.” You coo, reaching your arms out. Ziggy giggles and picks herself up again, and once again she tries to take a step. Then, still giggling, she walks. 

Clumsy and heavy, she takes step after step until she falls into Eddie’s arms while everyone coos around her. 

“Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles and Eddie’s heart stops. Oh my god. 

“Did she just….” He gasps out as you tear up beside him. 

“Mix your name and daddy as her first word. Indeed she did.” You laugh, moving forward to kiss his cheek as he pulls Ziggy in to kiss her face all over.  

“THAT’S MY GIRL!”

- 

Eddie was beginning to get a little pissed off, his body thrumming with it as he watches his girls very closely. He keeps a firm hold on the neck of his guitar to fight the urge to punch someone in the face. 

That someone was Gareth. 

His band hadn’t had much exposure to kids, he knew this. The closest any of them had been to a kid was Jeff’s sister and she was only 2 years younger than her brother. So when Eddie had introduced his girls to them they hadn’t really known what to do. But he assumed they would get used to it by now. 

But his friends hadn’t. In Fact they did nothing but complain when Eddie showed up to band rehearsal with Ziggy on his arm and Motley's hand held within his own. She twisted his rings around, smiling from ear to ear when they walked up to the boys. 

Motley had been worried and had taken far too long to pick an outfit since she wanted to look as cool as Daddy Eddie and his friends. She ended up choosing the Hellfire shirt Dustin had made for her 6th birthday and his older jacket, she even let him braid her hair. And when they walked up she gave them a well rehearsed devil look, even sticking her tongue out just like Eddie does whenever she is throwing a fit. 

The only problem was Gareth and Paul both groaned outwardly, Jeff was the only one that seemed to try and smile, shaking his hand in an awkward wave. Eddie, now irritated and tense simply explains “Y/n had to go and help Nancy with something, I offered to take the angels.”

“Of course you did.” Paul scoffs, turning to grab a beer from the fridge with Gareth and Jeff in tow. Eddie bends down so he was level with Motley, rubbing her arm. 

“Don’t take those geeks to heart, yeah? They’re just nervous. You scare them.” He smiles which makes her smile. 

“It’s okay Daddy Eddie. Papa never liked when I bothered him either. We’ll stay out of the way.” She shrugs, kissing his cheek and taking her chalk set to the sidewalk before he places Ziggy on the couch. 

The papa comment unnerved him and he was already defensive. He didn’t like that they were in a situation that they could remotely compare to their deadbeat dad. It made him sad. 

They start practicing, but soon enough Motley is running up and dancing around in the garage as they play. “PLAY TIFFANY!” 

“Whose that?” Jeff asks, covered in sweat. 

“Please tell me it’s not that teenager that sings ‘I think we’re-’” Just as Gareth starts groaning, Motley begins singing and dancing to it. 

‘Ithinkwe’realonenow. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around!”

“Stop stop stop!” Paul snaps. “This is band practice. You can’t just-”

“I think we should play it.” Jeff smiles. “You have the tape Eddie?”

Of course he had the tape, it was Motley's favorite song at the moment. So, with a deep sigh since he already knew he would get shit for it he pulls the tape from his pocket, holding it in the air between two fingers. 

Gareth sighs, snatching it from him and taking it to the stereo system. 

An hour later and many snide comments, Eddie was about to lose it.  Motley had, at some point, gotten a little upset and chose to sit on the couch with Ziggy who was beginning to get whiny and sad. She hadn’t napped all day and Eddie knew it was time to call it a day before he punched one of his friends. 

“I think I’m gonna get the little ones home.” He mumbles, grabbing the tape from the speaker and putting it in the case as he looks over to where his girls were. Ziggy had her pre-cry face on and Motley was half asleep in the cushions. Eddie shuddered at the thought of how many times Gareth had sex on that thing. 

“Next time don’t bring the rugrats and we can practice actual music.” Gareth scoffs and that tight string in Eddie finally snapped. He pushes closer to his friend, getting in his face as one hand snatches itself in his shirt tightly and in a threatening way, his other hand holding the tape up to his friend's face. 

“THIS IS MUSIC!” He screams, eyes wild before he shoves his friend back and takes a deep breath, turning to where his daughters sit. “Come on, pretty babies. Let’s go make dinner.”

He scoops Ziggy up, then Motley, casting one more glare to his friends before walking off. 

- 

“I cannot believe they would be such assholes. To MY nieces.” Steve scoffs, hands on his hips as he stands next to Eddie. Tonight was the school recital, so both of them were dressed up to attend. 

Steve had dressed himself in a button up with a nice sweater, making sure to match Nancy who was carrying their 3rd kid, the blue of the dress making her light up. Meanwhile Eddie chose a button up with his leather jacket, or well Motley had demanded he wear the leather jacket because it was a part of the look. 

 You, as per usual, looked truly stunning. He made sure to keep a hand on your hip or the small of your back to make sure everyone knew you were with him, that’s right. Eddie the freak munson had the hottest woman around and two of the prettiest and most talented daughters in the world. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Eddie sighs. “Talking to my girls like that?”

“They are just jackasses who can’t even play guitar.” Steve scoffs once more, looking past Eddie to check the door. “Ah, there they are. DUSTIN! ERICA!”

Dustin spots them, smiling as he holds Erica’s hand and shuffles closer to them. “Is Mike coming?”

“No. He has a date to make El jealous.” Nancy laughs. 

“Where is El tonight?”

“Going out with Max.” Nancy explains, and Eddie feels you tense under his hand. He casts you a quick look to make sure you’re okay, watching Ziggy lay her head on your chest as she plays with your necklace. 

“You good?” 

“Yup.” Your answer is clipped, and Ziggy lifts her head up to copy you with a ‘yupyup.’

“Where’s Lucas?” Steve asks Erica, leaning to kiss her forehead. 

“He had an away game. Asked us to film it.”

“Then asked me to stop dating his sister.” Dustin laughs which makes Steve and Eddie break out in their own fit of laughter. 

“Da-Ed-ay.” Ziggy giggles, reaching for him so he grabs her quickly, kissing her lips to make her happy. 

“I’m sorry? Did she just mix daddy and Eddie?” Steve gasps and Eddie shrugs. 

“I’m telling ya, my girls are geniuses.” He smiles, leading you into the auditorium so watch Motley's recital. 

He sits with Ziggy on his lap, holding your hand tightly in his own as Steve pulls out a camera and squats in the aisle to film everything. 

Motley and Vinny come up to do their dance, the audience laughing loudly when Motley steps on Vinnys foot after he tries to trip her. They both blush, Vinny takes a bow and Motley holds up a rock sign, which makes Eddie cheer loudly and stand up to yell for her. 

- 

Song Inspo for this blurb hereeeeee 

“Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take her.” Eddie sings, holding Ziggy on his shoulders easily as he dances with you. The Hawaiian shirt you picked out for him is light on his skin as the sun beats down on you both, the sweat from the day sticking to him. 

This was the fourth of July celebration, everyone in the group met at the beach to enjoy the day…… which meant Steve had shown up at 4 am to save the spot. Eddie had already applied sunscreen onto Motley and Ziggy twice, you had done it three times and you both were still scared that the girls would burn. 

You had gotten Ziggy the cutest toddler beach outfit, that included a purple swimsuit; hat; and sunglasses. And his baby girl looked absolutely rocking. 

Then Motley got her very own swimsuit, inspired by her favorite artist of the time Tiffany, and Eddie (who had been practicing braiding hair for weeks, your scalp was sore.) had put her hair into two pleats that she had proudly shown to her Aunt Robin who had spent the next 30 minutes complimenting her favorite niece. 

“Daddy Eddie! Come swim!” She yells out, running up to him. “Puh-lease!”

Now here was the problem, Eddie hated showing his abdomen in front of his friends. It was easy for Steve, who liked to say the scarring was Tom Cruise's amount of cool. Eddie however had never shown them how disgusting his scars were. 

“Daddy daddy daddy.” She calls, jumping up and down as Vinny dashes past to get to Dustin. “We’re gonna play chicken and I need my daddy.”

“Maybe Uncle Lucas can help you.” He mumbles, squatting down with Ziggy still on his shoulders, the toddler pulling at his hair sharply as she blubbers. 

“I don’t want Uncle Lucas. I want my daddy! Only you can help me!” She cries, grabbing his arms. His heart melts, and he tries to smile. 

“Okay pretty girl. Let me get Ziggy settled.” He sighs and she lights up, dashing to go tell Vinny as Eddie moves to hand you Ziggy. 

“I’m gonna help El set out the food. Be careful.” You mumble, leaning to kiss his lips before moving to the table as Ziggy waves over your shoulder. Eddie takes his shirt off, rubbing his abdomen in worry as he makes his way to the water where Motley now stood. 

“See?! My daddy has cool ass scars because he’s awesome and he’s gonna kick your slimy little ass.” Motley brags to Dustin, who stares at her with wide eyes that make Eddie laugh. 

“Language, pretty girl.”

“Sorry.” She blushes, turning back to Dustin. “My daddy has sick scars and he’s gonna beat your toothless ass.”

“Woah.”

And suddenly Eddie felt a little better about his scars, smiling from ear to ear as he lifted Motley up, dashing into the water to help her win a game of chicken.

- 

Thanksgiving was spent at yours and Eddies house, after hours in the kitchen and a quick fit from Motley you had fully prepped the table. 

Now everyone sat around it, trying not to laugh as Dustin tries to convince you to eat the mac n cheese he made, practically shoving the spoon in your mouth. 

“No! I eat that and I die!” You laugh, slapping the spoon away. 

“Who would take care of the kids?” Jonathan gasps in fake astonishment. “Me right?”

“You’d only get the kids if Lucas died.” You shrug which makes Lucas smile in triumph.

“I knew it-”

“And you only get my girls if Erica dies.” Eddie interrupts. “And that’s if Dustin is dead.”

A laugh tears from your throat as Dustin claps, but you’re quick to stop him. “And that’s if Steve is dead.”

“And if Steve has them then Nancy is dead.” Eddie laughs. 

“Who has to die for me to get them?!” Mike asks, face red and puffy. El laughs and Max rolls her eyes. 

“Let me guess, if Nancy has them then I am dead?” Max scoffs, and you go a bit tense. 

“Well in this entire hypothesis that means I am dead, so that’s a bit mean.” Eddie giggles. “Because if my girl is dead then they go to me.”

“No they wouldn’t.” Max laughs, which makes the table go a little quiet. “They’d go to their dad.”

“What?” Eddie asks as Motley giggles out a “PAPA!”

He turns to you, eyes wide. “That true?”

“Technically yes.” You mumble out, looking extremely guilty. “But only because-”

Eddie doesn’t want to hear anymore, he slams his silverware down and storms down the hall, slamming the door loudly. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry-” Max starts, only to have you glare at her and move to grab Ziggy. 

- 

It had been a week since Eddie talked to you, he slept on the couch and only talked to the girls. The only communication he had with you was through the girls, and that was it. 

He made them pancakes, and took them to school and daycare. 

Right now he sat in Ziggys nursery as he tried to get her ready for the day, her only in a diaper as he sat in front of her. 

“Aw, come on. Gimme a smile, little baby.” He coos, wiggling his shoulders. “It’s such a cute dress and you know you want to wear it. Huh?”

“No, Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles. “Wuv yu.”

“Aww. I wuv yu too.” He laughs. “In fact I love you THIS MUCH!”

He opens his arms out wide which makes her giggle. “How much do you love me?”

“Dis Muck.” She giggles, opening her own arms wide. 

“Our arms are open, we gotta hug.” He laughs, pulling her in quickly which makes her scream and giggle, pushing him away as he kisses her stomach over and over. 

“PAPA IS HERE!” Motley screams from the living room which makes Eddie whip his head around to the door that had been closed. 

What? “MOMMY! MOMMY MOMMY! IT’S PAPA!” 

Eddie stands up quickly, Ziggy in his arms as he swings the door open, meeting your shocked face as you come up the stairs. 

“Did she say-?” He starts.

“I’m hoping not.” But as you are saying it there is a knock on the front door. So Eddie makes his way to the living room with Ziggy in his arms as you run to catch Motley before she answers the door. 

Choosing to do it yourself, Eddie watches with his heart in his stomach as the door swings open and he is met with-

No.Fucking. Way.

Part ll HERE

(Would y'all want a part 2? If you send in requests for blurbs or scenarios of Eddie and the girls I will 100% write them. Send em in.)

Taglist:: (let me know if you want to be removed)

@localemofreak @paradise-summertime @jenniquinn @eddiesxangel

[aviiarie]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ REASSURANCE platonic arlecchino & reader !

synopsis. arlecchino's child is struggling, but she is there to reassure them. contents. PLATONIC. house of the hearth!reader. gn!reader. they/them pronouns used. hurt/comfort. 1.5k words. notes. repost from my old blog! only a few more of this series to go :')

It was a cold day in the House of the Hearth when Arlecchino called upon one of her children for nothing more than a simple chat.

One of the unspoken rules of the House was that the most leisurely of discussions were only a preface to something deeper; layers of ulterior motives hidden underneath an innocent invite for tea. Some children had never glimpsed the privilege of being summoned to her office, while others found themselves carving a dent into her seat cushions with the number of times they sat in them. But one thing remained unchanging with every visit: their Father would send for them with a purpose, and they would not leave until it was fulfilled.

When [Name] received word that they were to visit Arlecchino’s office at 7:00pm sharp, their first instinct was dread; for the dozens of possible reasons for them being the one to be called upon. Musing upon the ‘why’s shifted their mood from the dull thrum of anxiety to sweeping waves of confusion. As far as they were concerned, they had no due cause for such a meeting with the Director herself; no failed missions to be reprimanded over, no shady plots of subterfuge to be exposed. They weren’t any rowdier or more troublesome than any other of the children, so the list of matters that would merit a visit was short.

Still, they knew better than to avoid the call. 7:00pm, they stood outside the office, hand poised over the door. They closed their eyes, knocking on it sharply and wincing at the echo that reverberated off the walls.

Three short raps. A smooth, calm voice, from inside the room: “Come in.”

The doorhandle creaked loudly as it turned. The door was old, and rather heavy, so it took a gentle shove to push it fully open to reveal the neat, cozy office inside.

“Ah, [Name], you’ve arrived.” Arlecchino greeted them as they entered. She was seated behind her desk as she usually was, with a full tea-set in front of her. As they slowly approached, she motioned towards the plush chairs opposite her. “Please, take a seat. I have been waiting for you.”

They quickly settled into the closest chair, hands folded in their lap. The room was quiet and cold; enough to send an uncomfortable prickle down their spine. Arlecchino paid no mind to their uneasiness; her hands were busy deftly arranging the teacups on the tray. Once she was satisfied with their placement, she then moved to pick up the teapot.

“I have some new tea from Liyue,” she hummed, gently tipping the teapot to let the dark red drink fill one cup, then two. Steam rose from each, cutting through the chill of her office. “Hibiscus. It’s quite sour, but I have added a spoonful of honey and sugar to the brew to sweeten it.”

She held one of the teacups out, and they clasped both hands around it with a murmured thanks. As they moved to take it from her, the side of their palm brushed against her fingers—icy cold, enough to make them shiver with a single touch.

“Your night has been well, I am assuming?” Arlecchino asked, taking a sip from her cup.

“Yes,” they murmur, bringing the tea to their lips. It was hot, but just enough not to burn their tongue. The honey she had added did little to mask the sour taste of the hibiscus, but it created a lightly sweet aftertaste that was pleasant enough to warrant a second sip.

“And your days, how have they been?”

They frowned, scanning her expression for any hint of what she wanted. She was clearly speaking to them in search of something, even if she didn’t say it aloud. A mission report, perhaps? They had already submitted the paper copy to her desk, but if she had missed it, or it had gotten lost with the rest of the paperwork handed in that day, she could be waiting for them to recount the mission directly.

“I returned from the mission you sent me on,” they blurted out. “I… it was a success, mostly. No casualties. Minimal injuries. And I also—”

“No need for a summary, I’ve read your report.” Arlecchino cut them off smoothly. “I want to know how you are, not how your mission went.”

They almost choked on their tea. Arlecchino raised an eyebrow at their sudden lack of composure, and they hurriedly covered it up with a half-hearted cough. “S-Sorry… you want to know how I have been… feeling?”

“That is correct.”

The air was thick with silence and the bitter smell of hibiscus, until they blurted out a quick “Fine! I’ve been fine, thank you.”

“Fine?”

“Fine, yes.”

“Interesting. I have been hearing curious things,” Arlecchino said casually. “Some of your siblings seem to have noticed a change in your behaviour. You aren’t sleeping as well, your mood has been significantly worse, you haven’t been joining during social activities. There is clearly something wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” they said weakly. Their feeble attempt at normalcy was nowhere near convincing enough to fool her, and they knew it. They were a passable liar in the best of circumstances, but she was the one person who would always be able to see right through them.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

They couldn’t look at her. One look into those sharp eyes, one wrong word and they would crumble right there in her office. They had to keep it together for as long as it took to convince Arlecchino they were alright and be dismissed from her office. They only needed to hold back the burning behind their eyes until they were far away from Arlecchino and her pressing words and bitter tea, and could quietly fall apart.

She was waiting for an answer, but they could hardly breathe through the lump in their throat, let alone formulate a response. If she stopped now, saw them for what they were—a lost cause—and gave up, it would be fine. But instead:

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, and something inside them snapped.

Tears burst from their eyes, spilling over their cheeks and down their face. They gasped, choking back a cry, holding a fist to their mouth to stop the hiccupping and wheezing breaths.

“I’m sorry,” they sniffled, rather pathetically. They kept their head ducked down low, unable to bring themself to look up into her undeniable face of disapproval. If they were any stronger, they could grit their teeth and make up a spiel about how they would do better next time, but instead they had to cry.

Now, not only were they going to be reprimanded for letting their emotions affect their work, they would be scolded for crying as well.

“Now, there is no need for crying.” Arlecchino stood, scraping her chair against the floor. They flinched away from the jarring sound, shrinking inwards with their tear-streaked face hidden in their hands. As much as they tried to stop them, the tears kept flowing into their palms. The walls were shifting closer with each second, and the thick scent of the tea filled their lungs until it choked them with that cloyingly bittersweet scent—

They jumped, as something cold touched their fingers. Their hands were carefully pried away from their face, revealing Arlecchino kneeling in front of them, with an unusually concerned expression on her face.

“I’m not upset with you, dear.” She said gently. “If that is why you are apologising.”

“You’re not?” they asked slowly. It had to have been a lie, but with how softly she said it, a part of them couldn’t help but wish it was true.

“Of course I’m not. But do you know why I’m not upset with you?” she asked. Hesitantly, they shook their head. “I’m not upset in the slightest, because I know whatever is clouding you is something that you will work through. You will emerge the victor of this battle, no matter what it is.”

They made a strangled sound, and felt a new wave of tears form. Arlecchino sighed, pulling them to their feet and against her chest.

“You are strong,” she said softly, carding her fingers through their hair. “You are capable. You are able to overcome whatever hardships you are facing, no matter how much they wear on you.”

She kissed their temple, her cool lips feeling almost warm pressed to their skin. While she lingered there, she whispered to them, softer than a mother’s touch. “You are strong enough to face this on your own, but even if you aren’t you will always have me here behind you.”

Their hands stretched out to grab the back of her jacket, shuddering out a breath. If Arlecchino minded their teary face being pressed against the front of her clothing, she didn’t comment on it; she only murmured more reassurances as she held them close.

“Just breathe, dear.” She whispered. “You’re going to be okay.”

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

[crazypersonslayy]

[Lessons in love] Severus Snape x Prof!Reader

~~Part 1

Summary: Y/N is the Herbology professor who has worked in Hogwarts for a few years since Professor Sprout retired. She has never really interacted with Snape, until Dumbledore assigns the both of them to work on combined lesson courses to improve student engagement. Things seem professional, maybe with a hint of unspoken attraction simmering beneath the surface. Until one thing leads to another.

A/N: Sorry if some facts about HP is not the most accurate, I haven't read/watched it in a few years 😅 Also please let me know of areas for improvement, this is my first fanfic

~~

She was never one to be fond of the Potions Master, finding his demeanor to be rather scary, unapproachable, but nonetheless mysterious. Despite that she has been a professor for a while, they haven't a conversation beyond anything but polite "good morning"s. And sometimes he doesn't even return it, nonchalantly acknowledging her with a curt nod, and just like that he's gone within the blink of an eye, his long coat swooshing behind him. They've shared a few stolen glances during dinner, but neither of them brought it up, merely brushing it off as a coincidence.

She couldn't get over his mysterious personality, wanting to dig deeper, wanting to learn more about him. She knew he was a past Death Eater, and she knew about his love for Lily, his broken heart, his entire being shredded and torn to pieces by her death. She ached to have a proper conversation with him like he did with Minerva and the other professors, but just didn't have the courage to. After all, she was not a Griffindor.

"Y/N, Severus," She was snapped out of her daze by the familiar, kind voice of the Headmaster, "I apologize for disturbing your dinner, but could the both of you follow me to my office? I have something to discuss." Snape, who sat two seats away from her, took a last sip of his wine and stood up from his seat. Y/N took it as a queue to get up too. She wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin and stood up. Her eyebrows knitted together, what on earth could Dumblemore possibly want with the both of them, surely he could've just called them separately? How odd. She shook away her thoughts, following behind the two men as they exited the great hall.

She struggled to keep up with Snape's long strides, descending down the stairs carefully to not trip over her own feet while trying to match his pace. Dumbledore was quite ahead of them, his white hair glimmering under the candlelight that lit up the ancient halls. She would never get over how magical and magnificent the castle looked at night, and the stars that hung across the sky, reminding of her youth at Hogwarts, when she used to sneak out to the Quidditch field at night with her friends to stargaze and have heart-to-heart talks.

Enough of the sentimental talk, she snapped out of her daze, and couldn't help but realise that she had caught up to Snape, they were almost walking side by side. "But I haven't walked any faster.." She thought. Then it struck her "He couldn't have slowed down for me..right?" She looked up at him, catching a glimpse of his crooked nose when he turned his head ever so slightly towards her, eyes darting to her figure and returning to look straight ahead within a second.

The corner of her mouth curled slightly, maybe his heart wasn't that cold after all.

~~

The pair entered the Headmaster's office, each taking a seat in front of his desk. She slumped ever so slightly into the soft cushioned chair, while Snape sat halfway in the chair with a rigid upright posture, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sure the both of you are wondering why I you're here. Well, to put things simple, I need the both of you to work together," Dumbledore stated simply, as if it wasn't that big of a deal at all. Snape let out a strangled "What?". Y/N was taken aback, why would they ever need to work together? Potions and Herbology are two completely different subjects.

Before she could retaliate, Dumbledore put up a hand in silence. She nervously bit her lip waiting for him to continue. "I apologize for the suddeness, but Minerva and I have discussed this. The older 6th and 7th year students, despite not choosing to further their studies for NEWTs in these two subjects, still lack foundation abilities. We found that it is still preferred by employers to have knowledge in these subjects beyond the OWLs. Hence we think that it is necessary to provide compulsory combined potions and herbology lessons for students. I know these aren't the best circumstances for the both of you, but I do hope I can get your understanding and cooperation."

Her mouth dropped in shock. Her, the kind, patient Herbology professor who is loved and adored by students. And Snape, the moody and fierce Potions Master known "affectionately" as the Dungeon Bat? Them working together? Teaching together? Not in a million years. And Snape surely felt the same through how tight his jaw was clenched.

She sighed, there was no way they would be able to do this, and she hesitated before speaking, "Sir, are you absolutely sure there are no other arrangements that can be made? I will be glad to do group or individual tutoring after school-hours or on weekends." Dumbledore glanced at her above his crescent-shaped glasses and sighed, "I'm deeply sorry Y/N, we do not want to take away any more of these students' time to revise for their upcoming tests. The only solution is to squeeze in an hour and a half of combined lessons in the afternoons." She slumped even more into the chair, and closed her eyes tightly despite feeling Snape's intense gaze on her. She wanted to dissapitate into the air, dissapear off the face of the Earth.

"I know how difficult it is to plan combined subject lessons, and I will increase your salaries accordingly". Her eyes shot open. It wouldn't hurt to send some extra money to her parents back home, they were saving up for a trip to Italy anyway. He got her good. "Okay", she replied, defeated. Snape merely nodded, and she noticed a slight frown that appeared between his eyebrows.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

~~End

Part 2 will be up soon!

[jpitha]

Curiosity

Captain Benimen grabbed the arms of his chair tightly as the gravity struggled to keep up with the twirling and twisting, the ducking and juking his ship was doing to try and avoid the missiles, energy weapons, and slugs being thrown at them.

"Stupid humans! Why did I even agree to this?" He shouts, as a rippling thump runs along the spine of his ship and makes the deck plates rattle.

"To be fair Captain Benimen, we're not the ones shooting." Keli, one of the human engineers brought over by HIDA and the Coalition was also gripping the bottom of her fold-out chair tightly. Human ships have belts in the seats to keep you in place during high maneuvers; there is no such luxury on the Sefigan's ship. "You aren't going to return fire?"

She had a point. It wasn't human pirates that were attacking his ship and attempting to disable his newly installed Flipwarp drive, still he was never one to stop when he had a good rant going.

"It doesn't matter! The moment you show up, trouble follows close behind. Besides, we can't return fire, we have no weapons. Sensors!" he barked, "Who are these pirates anyway?"

The officer at the sensor suite station is barely holding on as the ship bucks and moves. The screen is vibrating so much they can barely read it. "Uh, it might be Whitetail, Captain. It's tough to tell while we're dodging them."

"Whitetail?! What are they doing way out here?" Captain Benimen starts gesturing with his hands as he's yelling, but a bump causes him to lift out of his seat and he scrambles to grab the arms again. "I don't care who it is, Flipwarp us out of here, we'll outrun them." He turns to Keli "Your upgrade had better work."

"Flipping now, Captain" Helm reports, and the ship is suddenly encased in the prismatic field of their new Flipwarp drive and the shaking stops.

Benimen nods to himself and his fur lowers. "Good. Now that that's settled, we can figure out-" Another series of heavy thumps is felt through the deck. There's a puff of atmosphere, and they can all hear the muffled cries of an alarm and the pressure doors slamming shut through the ship. "Ancestors! What was that?"

"Sir! It appears that Whitetail followed our Flipwarp signal and is giving chase. They're behind us!" The sensor suite officer's voice is tinged with panic.

Automatically Benimen looked behind. All he could see was the rear of the Command Deck, and he swore softly. Turning back to the screen in the front, he could see the outline of another ship behind them, also encased in a prismatic field soaring through Flipspace. "How are they doing that? How can they track us?" He turned to Keli. "Do you know?"

Keli looked up at the ceiling in thought for a moment. As she did, she blinked and stared at the lights. "That's not right..." Looking around, she strode over to the wall behind the captain and ran her hand along a seam. She followed it to the door out of Command. "What the..." She stood up and walked over to the helm station. "Can I check something out for a moment please?"

"O-of course, go ahead." The officer stood, and Keli sat, wincing at the chair made for smaller and more cushioned bodies. She started tapping at the panels.

"Ancestors..." she tapped, frowned, tapped some more. There was a sound like someone banging pots and pans under water.

"They're still firing." The sensor officer replied, glancing up at Captain Benimen, their eyes flicking between him and Keli.

"Keli? Anything you'd wish to share with us during our last few moments alive?" Even in the middle of the battle Captain Benimen made time for sarcasm.

Keli waved him off and touched something near her ear. "Greg, come up to Command, you need to see this."

A few seconds later, a human walked in, wearing an armored pressure suit. The command crew swiveled to look as he clanged in and they all looked worried. Greg lifted his helmet. "Some of the ship is in vacuum, that's why I'm in the suit. The Fire teams are working on securing the area and making safe passage from aft to fore." He walked over to Keli. "What's wrong?"

"Look at this, can you see the lockout here? Keli pointed at something on the back of the station. "Look here too, I think this was added later." She ducked under the station and swore. "This was retrofitted! Captain, who did you buy this ship from?"

"Er, it was my Father's ship, and before that, his Uncle's." Captain Benimen's claws slid in and out of their sheaths in irritation. "It's been in our family for more than one hundred solar years. Why does this matter? We're being shot at, if you have forgotten."

"It matters, Captain, because you seem to have a ship made out of another ship." She pointed up. "Greg, look up, what do you see?"

It was difficult to look up in a pressure suit. Greg had to lean back and crane his neck. Almost as soon as he did he said "Those aren't Sefigan lights."

"Exactly! Check out the rear panel behind the Captain too. That's not made of vremnian, it's a different alloy. I'd bet thirty stars that it's polychroma."

Greg smiled. "I'll take your word for it Keli. It's interesting, but I don't see how this will help us."

Keli gestured with her hands and opened her mouth and closed it once or twice. She was having trouble with her words. "This means that it's not a Sef ship, they bought it and retrofitted it centuries ago. They would have most likely bought it from the Draeden."

"I'll take your word for it, Keli, starship history is your hobby, not mine."

"No no! The Draeden were notorious for arming everything. They were more paranoid than we were! So if we can find where they dummied out the old systems and shunt some power to them..."

"Then we can reactivate the Draeden weapons? Keli that's insane. If they're still here, they're under tons of hull and even if they were exposed they haven't been powered in a couple of centuries."

Keli crossed her arms. Another brace of shots punctuated her pose. "So you'd rather get disabled, boarded and killed - if we're lucky?"

Greg sighed. He bent over and with a thrumming woosh, his suit opened like a flower and he stepped out. "What do I need to do?"

She pointed over towards sensors. "Check that wall, look for hatches, panels, anything. She tapped the comm on her wrist and clinked it against Greg's head. "Here's an update to your translator overlay, you should be able to read Draeden; they're old enough they didn't speak Belanic."

While Greg searches, Keli returns to the helm station and crawled underneath. Captain Benimen could only watch as she started ripping fistfulls of wire out from under the station, and the acrid smell of burning insulation filled the deck.

"Keli! Cease this at once! Stop trying to destroy my ship!"

She slid out from underneath and threw a card at him. "I'm sorry, Captain, I'm in command now." And then went back under the helm station and ripped more wires.

Captain Benamin read the card. In no uncertain terms it told him that Keli had the full backing of the Coalition to do anything and everything to continue her mission - including taking command. On the back was the sigil and signatures of all ten administrators. He held the card as if it would burn him, and sat, defeated.

Suddenly as Keli was ripping wires, there was an alarm that sounded on the deck. It was... different. The crew hadn't heard this one before. It sounded older, more crackly, more warbling.

And the voice wasn't speaking Belanic.

"Got it!" Keli sat up in triumph, and her finger started dancing over the screens. "Greg, did you find it yet?"

"Find what, I've been tapping an- oh!" As he was talking, Greg heard the tone of the panel change. He pushed hard, and it popped open, sliding back on very old gas shocks. Inside were two very large levers, caked in dust and grease. Above them was a sign written in the dotted slashed text of ancient Draeden. As Greg focused on it, his overlay translated the text. 'Manual Override.' "Keli, I found some levers marked Manual Override."

"Yes! Those are the ones. When I say, pull them out, twist the handles 180 and push them back, hard. I'm doing to drop us out of Flipwarp in three... two...now"

With an uncharacteristic shudder, the ship fell out of Flip space and was in regular space again. A moment later the Whitetail ship appeared next to them, and began to fire.

"Now Greg!"

Greg heaved on the levers and they came out of the panel with a heavy clang. He turned the wide handles on the end 180 degrees and bending down, pushed them back into the cabinet until they clacked home.

As he finished, the ancient alarm changed. It went from a high warbling tone to a faster, more insistent tone. A voice in a calm, authoritative voice said something and after a moment repeated it. Another beat, and the ever present noise of the ship, the HVAC, the reactors, everything went silent. Even the gravity turned off, and everyone started to rise from their seat awkwardly.

Benimen began to spin slowly in the air. "I swear on the dust of my ancestors human, if you have broken my ship I will-" he started, but then Keli glared at him. Some very ancient part of his brain reacted to her predatory glare and he stopped. Sefigans were omnivores on their original world, but they tended to be opportunistic. They didn't hunt unless that was the only option. His ancient brain knew what a hunter looked like and knew he shouldn't antagonize one.

After three heartbeats, there was a series of sharp clangs running the length of the ship, starting in the front and headed aft. Following that, the noise of the ship started to return, but the reactor sounded different, angrier. The gravity turned on and everyone fell back into their seats. Benimen landed hard on his bottom.

"Captain! We're..." Sensors looked at their screens and boggled. "Captain, we're splitting off from our ship."

"We're what?" He stood up and ran over to the sensor officer. Sure enough, what looked like the cargo bay, the rear maintenance garage and the hangar was floating away. Luckily the crew quarters, the reactor and the front portion of the ship was still intact. They didn't loose anyone when the ship peeled away.

Keli looked over and pointed. "Greg!"

Greg turned and next to the panel where the manual override levers were, another panel spun around. This had a series of screens and levers, all slightly grimy. He concentrated on the text and his overlay translated.

"Weapons suite."

****

"Pow! Zap! Just like that! I would not have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it, but luckily for you, I was." Benimen nodded to himself and took another sip of his drink.

The bartender made a face. "So you're telling us that your creaky old cargo ship that you got from your father was secretly a Draeden-"

"-a group we hadn't heard anything from in nigh on four centuries." the Innari next to Benimen helpfully added.

"Yes thank you Ki. Your ship was decretly a Draeden frigate this whole time, and you never figured it out?"

"Well, I got the ship from my Da, right? He showed me how to work it and that was that. I never dug into it because I didn't need to. I hauled cargo, and it did that well." Benimen's excitement was diminished with the words from the bartender. He did have a point after all.

"But Beni, you didn't even have the curiosity to learn about your own ship?"

"Dammit Rai what do you want me to say? That I was an idiot and never learned more about my ship and it's history? Why would I do that. Why would I learn about the history of a spanner, or a welder, or a compensator?"

"Because sometimes, you learn interesting things." Keli said, walking into the bar. She was dressed in the sharply tailored black uniforms of HIDA now instead of her grubby coveralls. Her long hair was tied back into a simple ponytail and she was grinning. "Benimen, I was coming by to say thank you for letting me take control, and to apologize for breaking your cargo ship."

The Rai and Ki stared at Keli in shock, and then turned to Benimen "You were telling the truth?" they said in unison.

Benimen grunted and took another sip of his drink. "Course I was."

"Captain Benimen, on behalf of HIDA, I am offering you recompense in the form of three hundred thousand stars. That should be suitable to repair and refit your ship, yes?" She handed him a pad and sure enough, he was now three hundred thousand stars richer. The sigil of the Coalition was at the bottom of the document, certifying it as genuine.

He slid off his barstool and stood before Keli. "Keli - I should say, Agent Keli, I thank you for this." He saluted sharply, Sefigan style, with both his paws across his chest with his claws extended. Keli returned the salute, human style. Business concluded, she turned to leave.

"I'm sorry, Agent, Keli?" Benimen called after her.

She turned. "Keli is fine, Captain."

His ears waggled. "Then you have earned the right to use my family name. Call me Hamin. I am wondering though... I've heard that HIDA hires non-humans. Do you have a need for a captain who has recently come into a frigate and some money that could be used to fit it out?"

Keli stood with her hands on her hips, and looked him up and down. "Well Hamin. That all depends. Why don't you come with me, and we'll see what's what."

[myfictionaldreams]

To the question about moving in with mafia Steve:

Did she had a space or place that she really liked? Like the Libary or the fireplace?

If she does… would Steve find her there often? 🥺

Aww, I actually love this question (thank you for asking it!) This all takes place following the fic 'Last Hope' from my Mafia!Stucky series.

It was difficult at first, the realisation of the previous day's actions had caused tears to fall, and thankfully Bucky was able to handle the cleanup from the events of ‘last hope’, so Steve could stay with her. The entire first day was spent in bed, aching from the fighting that had occurred but also the fucking which was actually a way that she used to distract herself. She was sore from her first time, but that didn’t mean that Steve didn’t use his mouth or fingers to make her cum multiple times until she was a wet puddle in the middle of his bed.

Once she made it out of the bedroom, it took a few hours to find her way around without Steve’s directions. It was odd for her to now call this new building her home but it also strangely felt right.

The first week was honestly a mix between grieving her past life, celebrating her new one and attempting to build it. This included meeting new members of the gang, understanding their job roles and where she would come into play regarding this but that was a decision for another time. Especially when she realised she couldn’t just wear Steve’s clothes for the rest of her life and he promptly treated her to a shopping spree that had even the shop owners’ eyes bulging with the amount of money Steve was willing to spend on his girl.

Once she became used to her new home, there were a few places that she’d like to be to unwind and create a safe space. Baking special treats for the gang members soon won her good graces into Bucky’s books as he was soon begging her to cook something new each and every time he saw her. She liked to also spend time in the garden however the weather was becoming more chilled so inside was where she spent most of her time.

In the new relationship, she didn’t want to be away from the safety that Steve provided, so one day, she followed him into his at-home office which was lavish and yet homely, decorations and warm colours greeting her on entry. Steve showed her to one of the quant little armchairs that faced his desk, a velvet cushioned seat with a plump decorative pillow.

She chose the chair on the left and hugged the pillow to her chest, idly chatting away with Steve about who was on the pictures on his walls. This continued for hours, and she even managed to doze off in the chair, she found it that comfortable. For the next few days, she returned to the chair, sometimes with a book in hand or a freshly baked pastry, as she enjoyed simply just being in Steve’s company.

Steve was enjoying it just as much and liked that he could keep an eye on her whilst doing all the admin that came with being the boss. Once, Bucky arrived at the home, the three of them walked up to Steve’s office, where he sat in the left armchair.

“Buck, sit in the other chair”, Steve mumbled under his breath without a single thought, talking as if on instinct that even seeing someone else in that chair just wasn’t right.

Bucky didn’t question the motives and simply stood, and sat in the other chair so she could quickly plop into the seat that was officially hers. Eventually, it became her safe space. If she was feeling overwhelmed with the life changes or needed to vent to Steve in some way, she could come to her chair. Even when he wasn’t home, she could sit in the office, some quiet music and a fluffy blanket and curl up into it, hugging the pillow until Steve came home and he could sit on the floor beside her and ask if everything was ok.

It was a big adjustment moving in with Steve however, it was one that she never regretted, and she was just lucky that the home and he, was so easy to fall in love with.

[kusagrasskusa]

An Eye for an Eye, ‘Til the World goes Blind

Chapter 2- A Date

Intro, Cha1, Cha2, Cha 3, Cha4, (Other chapters since it takes to long to link everything lol)

Guys I PROMISE the next chapter is gonna be WAY more interesting!

It was strange how each time, the victims seemed to resemble her and her brother.

Y/N shuddered, wrapping her arms around her torso and leaning back in her chair. “Gosh, that’s scaring me haha,” she softly joked to herself, “it almost makes me feel like they’re looking for…” Her voice trailed off as she squinted out her dark window, seeing her reflection faintly. She watched stiffly as it almost looked like her reflection was moving, morphed even, ever so slightly.

She slowly pushed herself off her seat and stepped closer to the window. Her heart began beating heavily as she ambled forward and lifted her hands to feel the window. A whiteness suddenly became more visible around her reflection’s face that began to take a form of its own the closer she got. Dark spots, an outline of a tall body, and a white blank face. As soon as she realized there was a person- or a thing- outside her window, her head began to buzz as she stepped back in horror.

But by then it was too late, for its long arms reached through the window, grabbing her by the neck. The broken window cut her all over as it violently pulled her outside, its grip around her throat too strong for her to breathe, let alone scream. It began to tear at her flesh and rip her apart but there was nothing she could do as it

“Bah!” Y/N yelled out loud as she jolted her head off her desk, looking around her office. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she heaved, searching around the room for the monster that killed her. She turned her seat towards her window, seeing the curtains pulled over it and untouched. Her buzzing head made her groan in pain as she thought.

Was that all just a dream?

2:17, the clock in the corner of the computer screen read brightly. I must have fallen asleep, she thought as she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. I must have seen too much death for a day.

After a quick shower, change of clothes, and the most needed sleep ever, the next day came. Finals were starting for her college classes before winter vacation- something she studied enough to understand and pass without much problem.

As she sat up from bed, Y/N pouted her lip tiredly and whimpered. “Just two more days,” she whispered to herself as she looked around her small bedroom. Images flashed of the events of last night in her head, replaying again and again questioningly. If that was a nightmare, which it was considering she didn’t really die, then when did she fall asleep?

As quickly as she got ready for bed, she got ready for the day. Wearing her cute new boots with fur, cute pants and shirt, along with her fluffy coat, she was ready to blow these next two days of finals away! And on special days when she needed an extra boost, she had a bus bring her to a coffee shop right down the street from her college.

She was lucky enough that the university was so close to her apartment building, let alone that it had the greatest coffee shop about 5 minutes away. The familiar smell washed her stress away as she stepped inside the little shop, seeing the regulars she’d seen so many times.

Finally, she thought as she sat down with her cup of coffee in her hand, sipping away at the lovely flavor. The cushions of the seats were soft and comfortable- and the smell and quietness of the place was perfect for her to get a little extra practice in before her finals.

The little bell above the door rang, alerting it had been opened. Mindlessly, Y/N glanced upwards at the arrival of a new customer before looking back at the little laptop that she brought- just to look back up at the man who walked in.

Brown hair with sideburns, and dark eyes that quickly encaptured her. He wore a thick, unzipped brown jacket over a red plaid flannel that was sticking out from the jacket, and regular blue jeans with work boots. He was rather attractive; although he appeared a little stressed from the seriousness of his face.

Y/N curved her lips into a sly smile, looking back at her computer as the man walked to the counter to order his coffee. She kept on glancing over at him; like a normal young girl, she couldn’t help but pay attention whenever she saw an attractive guy nearby. This guy was tall, broad, looked strong, and looked like a hard worker. Not to mention when he turned to face her with those deep, cold yet alluring brown eyes-

Lost in a daydream, she didn’t notice right away that the guy turned to look at her. “Oh,” she whispered, breaking her haze as she shook her head. Blush rushed to her face as she looked back at her little laptop. Okay, that was a little embarrassing, she thought to herself.

Moments later, she heard loud footsteps approach her in the familiar heavy sound of workboots. “Hey,” a deep voice said, “mind if I sit here with you?”

“Oh, um,” Y/N blushed more vibrantly, her apparent nervousness doing nothing to hide itself from plain sight. There was an attractive southern twang in his deep voice- something that made her stomach knot up and her chest warm and heavy as the sound blessed her ears. “Yeah, go ahead,” she smiled nervously.

He had a slight smile on his face as he sat down, a hot cup of coffee in his hand as he took a sip. “So,” he started, “what’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?”

“Heh heh, well, I have finals for my college today and tomorrow, so I’m just getting a little bit of practice in beforehand,” she explained, instinctively staring deeply into his eyes as her head hung a little low and her finger intertwined in her hair. “What’s a handsome guy like you doing ‘round these parts?”

“Just spendin’ some time on a business trip,” he looked to the side, his welcoming smile like a bright light: something directly in her eyes that she just couldn’t block out.

Something about the way he smiled and the way his eyes were; they were different. Alluring for sure, as well as handsome, but something felt misplaced in the comfort of the dark colors that looked back at her. His eyes held no life; yet, at the same time, they held an attractiveness. And his smile felt the same; lifeless, yet ingenuous. A weird paradoxical mix; one that she just couldn’t put her finger on and be completely sure about.

“Oh yeah? Where do you work?” She asked, breaking her eyes from his dark ones. As she did, she noticed how fast her heart was beating. How heavily her body tensed and pulsed.

Similar to the fight or flight response to danger, in a way.

“I’m an internet installer so I gotta move around a lot to help clients.” He dryly said, as if it was something that he wasn’t particularly interested in.

Y/N nodded her head lightly before taking another sip of her coffee. There was an awkward silence for a minute, where the two avoided eye contact and just drank their coffees.

“Say,” the man said, breaking the silence. “Since I’m new here, would you wanna show me ‘round sometime? I can give you my number if that’s all good for you.”

“Oh, of course, for sure!” Y/N smiled, nodding her head as she grabbed her phone from her back pocket and opened it. The good old Samsung Epic 4G (Sprint)- the 2010 version of the new iPhone 15, with a pull-out keyboard. She handed her phone to the man, who quickly input her number and sent himself a text.

She smiled widely as he handed her phone back, his soft smile making her chest feel all warm and heavy again. “So, what should I call you, stranger? I’m Y/N,” she said, taking another sip of her coffee to hide her childish smile. Like a middle school girl hiding her smile from her crush with her hand.

“Well, Y/N,” he started, taking the final sip of his coffee. “You can call me Tim.”

The bell rang as usual, citing the end of the first part of the finals. Y/N stretched her limbs as she stepped off the campus finally, a satisfied feeling running through her body knowing she was almost done with school for winter vacation. Although she’d likely spend her whole winter break focused on the LadyLane Massacres.

Her walk back to her apartment was like normal: quiet, iPod connected to her earbuds for music as she listened to the latest music of the era. Staind, Seether, Slipknot, Rhianna, Bruno Mars- all the good stuff.

Despite the time reading 6pm, it was already starting to get dark now that the cold weather had been coming in. The sun was barely hanging over the trees as she walked down the sidewalk near the wooded area, which cast her in darkness as the shades of the thickly placed trees covered her.

It somehow reminded her of the darkness of her room whenever she had that dream. How hasn’t she noticed the darkness crawl on her walls as she approached that monster outside?

Moreover, it made her think of the darkness in her room that she hadn’t noticed before as she was checking the images of the victims. Did all those girls really look like her? Or did her dream make them look that way?

The lights in that room were bright, so why does she remember seeing a trail of darkness every time she looked away?

Y/N winced, stopping in her tracks and placing her hand on her forehead. Damn, it felt like a bullet just shot her in the head with how bad a buzzing migraine just hit her out of nowhere. She closed her eyes tightly and whimpered silently in pain as she stumbled back. “Fuck,” she mumbled, as it began to pulse increasingly in powerful waves of pain.

It wasn’t like the area was particularly dangerous. Hearing a snap somewhere in the woods wouldn’t normally cause concern if there hadn’t been a sting on her back. The sting of when you know someone’s watching you.

How hadn’t she noticed that one either?

“Okay,” Y/N mumbled as she spun around, quickening her pace as she trailed forward and faster down the sidewalk. She scanned around the forest, to all sides around her, not seeing a single person or animal. “Why has today been so…”

A snap came from a branch in the woods. Y/N turned her head in that direction, seeing nothing but darkness in the forest. Maybe it was because her migraine had her vision blurry that she couldn’t see anything. But it’d make more sense for the blackness of the forest to blind her from whatever was out there.

But, the sun was just out a few seconds ago. How did it get so fucking dark so fast?

Her heart sped up as she turned all around her, noticing the darkness fall over the melted snow patched on the grass. The empty streets, bright street lamps, and nobody else in sight. Y/N gulped, feeling a sense of fight or flight rise in her body as she looked all around, cautiously stepping forward in a careful walk. Her lips parted as her breathing got heavier.

Eyes were stinging her from all around, and she could feel it. What the fuck was happening? She began to run in the direction of her home. Danger was all around and her senses could feel it.

The clicking of footsteps seemed to echo behind her.

That was probably the fastest she ever ran home. Slamming her apartment door behind her back as she ran in, she breathed heavily as her back slid against the door.

“What the fuck just happened?” she asked herself as she heaved. With a shaky hand, Y/N pulled out her phone to call her brother and tell him about the weird experience she just had. But as she went to pull up her brother’s contact, she couldn’t help but notice Tim had texted her.

Tim: Hey this is Tim btw. I just wanted to say u looked very pretty this morning.

Tim: If ur free tonight, would u want to get dinner?

Blush spread across her face as she read the texts, some of her frustrations melting away in an instant. Biting her lower lip, she pulled out the side keyboard and wrote back a response.

You: Yeah sure. What time?

Y/N stood up, taking off her shoes at the door and getting changed into something more comfy for the time being. Last night and the moments prior left her feeling a little nauseated. So, she walked into the darkness by a forest during the daylight, before getting a headache that made her close her eyes tight, suddenly it was nighttime, she felt a paranoia she had never felt, ran away, heard footsteps behind her- and all that after she started thinking about her nightmare and the cases?

Weird coincidence.

A sudden ding on her phone broke her from her daydream, pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind as she rushed to grab her phone.

Tim: If ur ready by 8:20, I can take u to this nice place I saw recently

Y/N looked at the time, reading 7:46 on the clock.

She could have sworn that almost 15 minutes ago, on her walk home, it was 6. How the fuck did an hour and a half pass during a 15-minute walk?

You: Sure :) Ill be ready.

Surely a nice time with an attractive guy will help clear her mind. Naively, like a normal girl her age, she just smiled and blushed as she reread his text again and again. She had 45 minutes to get ready for her new date! Sending over her address, and smiled as she jumped off the bed and ran to get ready.

And after her date, she’s gonna find out who had the audacity to follow her. She had access to more than her brother’s case info after all.

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 38

It had been a couple of weeks since school returned after the easter holidays, all of the students and the teachers were nice and refreshed after some well-deserved time off.

One Friday afternoon, after classes ended, a vampire student called Mandy went to see Chris at his office.

‘Come in.’ Chris called through his office door.

Mandy entered, and Chris could instantly tell there was something wrong, she looked very antsy and irritable.

‘Mandy. Is everything ok?’ He asked with a frown.

‘I uhm… I need help.’ She said quietly.

‘Help with what? Take a seat.’ Chris motioned to the chair opposite his desk and he closed his laptop.

Mandy sat down and took a moment before speaking further, she was fiddling with her hands as she spoke. ‘I really want to hunt, I’m craving for blood… but my parents keep telling me to go to the blood bank. But I just… I want to hunt, I feel like I need to. Can you help me? Please?’ She pleaded him, the desperation was evident in her voice.

Chris grinned widely. ‘You’ve come to the right person. Of course, I can. It’s good that there are still young vampires like yourself that have that traditional instinct of wanting to hunt the proper way, the real way.’

That night, Chris had arranged to meet Mandy in the city. It was quite late, so plenty of opportunities with drunken humans making their way home after a night out would be present. They made their way down a quieter street, and saw a couple walking further ahead of them, clearly they'd been drinking.

Mandy was desperate to go for it, to finally feed from a human and get blood. She was about to chase after the two humans, but Chris grabbed her arm to stop her.

‘No, you have to wait and pick the right one. You don’t want to attack if there’s more than one, you go for someone that’s on their own. Follow them, wait until they’re somewhere nice and secluded.’ He said firmly and tried to lead her in a different direction to look for someone else.

‘I’m hungry!’ Mandy snarled, her fangs emerged and her eyes were turning red.

‘I know, but you need to learn to control yourself, or you’ll only end up getting into trouble. Or worse, killed. Now behave and do as you’re told, or’ Chris couldn’t finish what he was saying as Mandy tore herself away from him and ran after the couple she’d had her eye on with a snarl.

‘Mandy!’ Chris roared at her, but she was in a frenzied state and ignored him.

Chris hissed angrily as he watched the scene unfold on front of him. It was a disaster, Mandy went for the woman’s neck but the man turned on her and started punching her to get off his girlfriend, who began screaming hysterically. Mandy tried biting them both, she did get a bite into the woman’s arm but she couldn’t handle two of them.

She got beaten up quite badly when the man got hold of her properly, as Mandy wasn’t that strong of a vampire yet. Chris ended up having to go over when Mandy fell to the ground and was getting kicked. Chris quickly hypnotised the two humans to make them forget about the incident, then he grabbed Mandy and tossed her over his shoulder.

He levitated up off the street, onto the top of the nearest building, just in time as some more people came running after hearing the humans scream.

Chris leapt down the other side, onto the next street, which was where Loki stayed. He didn’t really want to get Loki involved, but he was closest and Mandy was in pretty bad shape, so he had no choice.

Chris rushed to Loki’s house and banged on the door.

When Loki answered, he was about to ask what the hell Chris was doing here, when he noticed their student over his shoulder.

‘What have you done to her?’ Loki yelled at him.

‘Always assume the worst of me, don’t you?’ Chris snapped back at him. ‘Can we come in? She needs help. Call dad!’

‘Come in.’ Loki snarled and stepped backwards to let them through.

Claire was shocked when Chris and Mandy came into the living room. She grabbed cushions and put them at one side of the sofa, for Chris to place her down.

‘I think her ribs are broken.’ Chris said as Loki quickly called Lucius.

‘Can’t you fix her?’ Loki barked at him while he waited for Lucius to answer.

‘You know it doesn’t work like that.’ Chris snapped. ‘What do you expect me to do, tear her flesh open and drool all over her ribs? We need dad to stabilise her before getting her to the hospital.’

Loki glared at him, then spoke to Lucius who finally answered his phone. It was a short call, Loki hung up and walked over closer to them.

‘He’s on his way.’

‘Good.’ Chris said as he ran a hand down his face.

‘What the fuck happened?’ Loki asked, hands on his hips.

‘She came to me for help. She wanted to go hunting, so I took her out. She couldn’t control herself though, wasn’t listening to me and tried to attack a couple.’ Chris said angrily.

‘WHAT? You took her hunting? How stupid can you be?’ Loki yelled at him.

‘She didn’t want to go to the blood banks. She said she was desperate to hunt. It’s about time more young vampires want to carry on the traditional ways. It’s not my fault that she couldn’t control herself though, she wouldn’t bloody listen to me.’

Claire comforted Mandy as best she could while the brothers argued. Mandy kept groaning in pain, she was sweating badly, too.

Lucius arrived very quickly, he gave Mandy some medicine which calmed her down almost instantly. Chris had to explain what happened again, and Lucius was more understanding than Loki was.

‘She was born a vampire, mother and father are vampires, correct?’ Lucius asked.

Loki nodded in response.

‘It’s more difficult for the pure-blooded vampires, their instincts do tend to be stronger at first, when they come of age and start craving blood. I’ve found it’s becoming worse than previous years, they just can’t control themselves the same. It sounds like she would have gone out hunting herself anyway, which could’ve ended up fatal for her. So it’s good that she went to Chris, that he could stop her from being harmed further.’ Lucius explained calmly.

‘He should’ve stopped her from attacking them in the first place.’ Loki growled.

‘Well… Sometimes the young ones need a good hard wake up call like this. She certainly won’t be rushing to attack like that again, she will likely listen next time.’ Lucius said, much to Loki’s annoyance.

Chris smirked a little at Loki.

‘I’ll get her fixed up, don’t worry. She’s going to be fine.’ Lucius assured them as he scooped Mandy up carefully into his arms.

Loki and Claire saw Lucius and Chris to the door. Lucius took Mandy straight to the hospital, Chris turned into a bat and flew off before Loki could say anything further. Loki was just glad to get Chris out of his house.

When Loki slammed the door shut, Claire knew she was going to need to try and help calm him down.

‘I know you’re angry at Chris, but like Lucius said. At least she went to someone for help, it would’ve been much worse if she had been on her own.’ Claire said softly as she wrapped her arms around his arm.

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. ‘I know… I just wish she had come to any of us other teachers instead. Why go to him?’

‘I think everyone knows that Chris is more… traditional. If the young vampires are wanting to go that way too, of course they’re going to go to him.’

‘She’s learned a hard lesson tonight, that’s for sure.’ Loki sighed as he let Claire drag him through to the living room.

‘I’d say so.’ Claire nodded in agreement as they sat down on the sofa, back to watching TV before they’d been interrupted.

Though Claire could tell Loki was still annoyed, he was just staring at the TV, barely even blinking. His leg was bobbing up and down, and he had his hand up at his mouth, which she knew meant he was deep in thought.

‘Hey… let me help you forget about tonight.’ Claire suggested as she quickly hauled off her leggings and knickers in one go, then she straddled over him. Which snapped him out of his trance and very quickly got his attention.

Loki smirked as she reached down and unbuckled his belt, then slowly undid his zipper. He reached out to stroke her hair while she pulled his cock out and gave him a few strokes to get him nice and hard.

‘I was planning to watch this show… but I think you’ve got a much more exciting idea.’ Loki teased.

Claire lifted herself up and lined his cock up with her. She was aroused just enough, she was almost always ready for Loki whenever he wanted. Though there was a very slight tugging sensation as she slowly sank down onto him, feeling him stretch her wide open and fill her.

She let out a shaky breath as she sank down fully onto him, she paused to let her body adjust. Loki slid his fingers slowly through her hair.

‘Mmm… maybe you could still watch your show?’ Claire suggested as she slid her arms around him and put her head on his shoulder, nuzzling in against his neck.

‘Ohh, you’re going to be my cockwarmer, are you?’ Loki growled and slid his hand under her top to stroke up and down her spine, making her tremble. He felt her body clench around him too at his words.

Claire nodded against him and squirmed a little.

‘How long will you last before you break?’ Loki whispered with a smirk.

‘Before I break? You’ll be first to break.’ Claire said as she turned to face him more and leaned back a little.

‘Oh you think so, hmm?’ Loki moved his hips upwards just ever so slightly, making her whine. ‘I rest my case.’ He grinned widely.

‘No cheating.’ Claire hummed against him.

Loki chuckled and just continued stroking her back as he tried to focus on the programme. He was torn though. On the one hand, it felt so good and intimate just having Claire cockwarming him, part of him felt like he could just stay like that all night. On the other hand, it was so difficult not to move, not to just start thrusting up into her. It was a delightful kind of torture that was messing with his mind.

Claire felt exactly the same. She loved being connected with him in that way, having him inside of her and filling her so nicely felt heavenly, but there was a torturous aspect to it. Her body just loved being stretched around him and being so full, the feeling alone was enough to give her so much pleasure.

Even if Loki hadn’t been able to completely focus on his show, Claire certainly got him to forget about his argument with Chris.

Every now and then, he felt her clenching ever so slightly around him, making him growl and tighten his hold on her. ‘I know what you’re doing, little minx. I can feel every single movement while buried inside of you like this.’

That caused Claire to shiver and squeeze around him even more, making him chuckle.

‘Now you’re cheating.’ She whined against his neck.

‘Me? You’re the one squeezing me.’ Loki rumbled.

‘You’re making noises and speaking. That’s cheating.’

‘Speaking?’ Loki laughed.

‘Yeah. Your voice is sexy. So just speaking is cheating.’

Loki laughed again and slid his fingers through her hair, he then pulled harder on some strands, making her moan as he tugged her head backwards so he could dip down and suckle on her neck. His teeth grazed across her skin, making her tremble some more.

He swore he could feel her trying to push down even further, as if trying to get him deeper than he already was, which was impossible.

‘Please, Loki.’ She whined breathlessly.

‘Do you give in?’ He growled over her skin.

Claire nodded quickly.

‘Very well…’ Loki gripped her ass and lifted her up slightly, then brought her down on him again. It was no surprise to either of them that it only took a few thrusts before they both came together, Loki emptied deep inside her as she came on his cock at the same time.

They both moaned together and kissed roughly, their tongues moved together sloppily as they panted against one another.

‘We need to do this more often.’ Loki hummed.

‘Definitely.’ Claire nodded eagerly as she collapsed against him.

[gazsluckyhat]

Sunday Worship

One - Lilies

Had this in my Ideas for a while lol

Sasha has a thing for accents. Always had. Maybe mutton chops too, and cigars.

or

Sunday's are for worship.

The clock on the wall in the briefing room showed ten when the Captain of the American team walked in. He had a RedBull in one hand and a sandwich in the other. Price scoffs at this. A fucking sandwich. He's rolling his eyes and looking around at the other people sat around the table. His own team standing with him in the back of the room. The group laid out in front of him were simple, everyday soldiers that handled everyday missions. He was only here in this room to get interduced and be shown his new office. He had no need to be here listening to the shit show he knew was about to happen. But thankfully is saved by the sudden appearance of what can only be described as a angel.

"Thought you were gonna start without me, huh?" She's strutting towards the captain, files in hand. The captain putting his hands up and taking the empty seat at the table. Price can't help but stare, hard not to really. She was beautiful. Dark hair done up in some artsy way, a pink shirt tucked into black slacks and finished with a pair of heels, that did nothing, she still would've only come to his chin.

"Meeting started at ten chica." Someone calls out. She's rolling brown eyes and setting the files down.

"Well maybe if captain underpants over there could do his own paperwork, I'd be here a little sooner." The group laughs.

"Why would I do it when I have a pretty little thing like you?" He's cooing at her, but shes flipping him off. Price has no idea what's going on. This wasn't how any of the teams he'd ever been on acted. Yeah, they joked and picked but this was different.

"Well this 'pretty little thing' doesn't work for you anymore, Will." He's rolling his eyes. "I've been transferred to unit 141."

"Who the hell is that?" She's groaning.

"Use your context clues Connor. They're right behind you." And eyes are on them. Her eyes are on them. A pretty little smile knocking the breath outta Price. "Everyone, meet Captain John Price of the SAS.

Lieutenant  Ghost, Sargent Kyle Garrick, and Sargent Johnny MacTavish." Connor, at least he thinks its him, watches them for beat longer than the rest. Seemingly studying them more.

"Ghost? That your legal name?" He's spouting out with a chuckle, eyes landing on the angel. She's having none of it though, easily coming behind him and setting her hands on his shoulders.

"Wouldn't tease someone with twice the body count as you honey." She says it in his ear, but loud enough for them to hear, sending a wink towards Ghost. And Price feels the jealousy burn in his chest, chides himself on the fact he doesn't even know her. Worst of all? He's now her boss. Wildly inappropriate. But isn't that the exciting part? He's shooing it out of his head instantly, no place or time for that. She points to the files and then the captain. "Have fun, I left instructions on your desk.""If you'll follow me I'll show you to your office." Then she's turning around and Jesus, the back view is just as pretty as the front.

The only sound as they follow behind her is the sound of her heels clicking on the floor. She waves and smiles as they pass a couple of people.

"Don't think I caught your name lassie." Johnny strides to her side, shooting her his best smile. John can't help the feeling bubbling up in his chest. But the angel just smiles and gives her name.

"Sasha." She pushes open a door and waves them in. "This is your stop." There's five desks scattered around. The one closest to the door is decorated. A flowerily mat is set under the keyboard. A vase full up lilies and a little bowl full of candy sit on the edge. The chair is different then the rest. It's bigger, has more cushion then the others. Clearly belongs to her.

"Are those your favorite?" Kyle asks fingering one of the flowers. She sends him another award winning smile.

"Yes. My father used to always bring them to me on special occasions." She grabs some papers off her desk and hands then to John. "These are just some notes and paperwork for the transfer, Captain. I've laid out any new rules and important information in the notes for you."

"You didn't have to." He says as he takes the paperwork from her, fingers brushing hers. He tries to steady his heartrate as the spark runs up his arm.

"Hush, Captain. It's nothing. You should see how I had to baby talk Will to get him to understand anything." She's waving a hand at the door. "Swear he's only Captain because he's a man."

"I promise you won't have to 'baby talk' me, love." She smiles.

"Oh I know that Captain. I've read your file." She flits to her desk, grabbing several things from the drawer. She starts at Johnny first, hands him a baggie before moving to Kyle. "Here's some things to make the transition a little better." She hands Kyle some protein bars, his eyes widening.

"You were a little tougher Lieutenant." Still, the baggie she hands Ghost is full of candy. And not just any candy but his favorite. Johnny is laughing, his baggie full of Scottish snacks. She saves John for last, her smile wide as she steps in front of him. She hands him a bottle of bourbon. He stutters.

"I don't really drink but my research says this is the good stuff, so I hope you enjoy." And she's stepping back to her desk. They are stuck in place.

"Think 'm in love." She laughs this crystal clear laugh that causes John's heart to skip a beat. Johnny smiles at her.

"Well thank you. Your desks have your nameplates on it and are already stocked with supplies. Kyle, I got the special pens you like as well." John decides then and there he loves America.

[henrypreppy]

Not Quite Nepotism

I made it through to the final interview. I needed this job, and since there was a huge influx of accounting grads, I thought my chances were slim. The first few interviews turned out to be mostly small talk and some experience questions. All of it was simple and easy. My family was all the way back in New York, and I came to Texas for a new start and a job lead. I was new. No one knew me, so there wasn't much I could talk about locally, but the managers seemed to like my disposition at the very least. Though, I had a feeling the final interview with the owner of the bank was going to be much harder.

I showed up like every other interview dressed sharply, a neat charcoal suit, white dress shirt, black tasseled loafers, and a burnt orange tie—I knew the owner was a longhorns fan.

I walked somewhat stiffly up to the receptionist and told her I was here for the interview with Mr. Richardson. She smiled warmly, "So, you're the one he's been so excited about! Let me tell him you're here and get you a keycard for the elevator. His office is on the top floor."

I didn't think I was a hotshot or anything, but apparently word had traveled up to the head honcho.

The receptionist grabbed a card from the drawer and dialed an extension on the phone before saying “He’s here.” She handed me a keycard for the elevator with a wink and said "He's ready for you now. Top floor. Good luck!”

I got in the elevator and tapped the card to the reader. I pressed the button to take me to the fifth floor. The doors closed, and I took the brief moment to make sure my appearance was neat in the reflective metal. My black hair looked immaculate with comb lines forming a neat side part. I took a few deep breaths after checking my hair, and before I knew it. I was at the top.

The doors opened, and I realized… His office wasn't ON the top floor. It WAS the top floor. I stepped out, and was greeted immediately by the smell of a citrusy cologne as I advanced toward him. Mr. Richardson, a rather portly man in a navy three piece suit, sat before me. His grey hair was in a neat side part that looked very thick for his other aged features. He spoke in a slow emphatic drawl: “Mr. Matthews! What a pleasure it is to finally meet’cha! My cohorts have told me quite a lot about’cha, son!"

He rose from behind his mahogany desk and extended his hand for a handshake. I took it, feeling his powerful grip on my hands as my eyes locked with his. Confidently, if not overconfidently, I replied "The pleasure is all mine! This is quite an office you have here."

He chuckled softly, "Well, it took a long time to build up. Please, have a seat."

I took a seat on the rather robust office chair opposite his, resting my arms firmly on the thick, cushioned rests. "Thank you," I said politely. As he sat opposite me, I could notice a thick sheen coming from the top of his grey hair. He seemed to have no sideburns either—an odd style choice, but I wasn’t there to question style; I had a mission.

I must have been looking too long, as he almost comically eyed me up and down in an over-exaggerated manner. I let out a nervous giggle as I realized. Ceasing to over-act, his expression turned serious. "I'll cut straight to the chase, son. From everything I've heard about’cha, I think you'll do real nice here with me. I trust those underneath me. They’re a helluva team.”

I was put off slightly by the boldness of his statement, but managed another "Thank you, sir."

With a slight smile, he taunted, “But…” He licked his lips like a wolf eyeing its prey. “Let me get one last look at’cha before yer career with me really gets started.”

With a snap and a few ripped arm hairs, restraints sprang from the armrests and held my arms to the chair. One ankle, being close to one of the legs of the chair, was caught as well. I began to panic and flail my free leg as I heard swift footsteps behind me. I turned my head as much as I could and caught a glimpse of two men in black business suits rushing up from behind the chair.

Mr. Richardson smiled even wider, speaking even slower: "Don't you worry, son. Your career has just begun."

I felt a sharp pain in my neck and everything faded to black. The last thing in sight was the glare from Mr. Richardson's grey hair.

…

I awoke in a dark room, unable to move my arms, legs, or head. All I could do was look forward. There seemed to be whispers in the background, though I could not make out what they were saying. Then, there was a small sting toward the front of my head as the dark room was briefly lit by a pinkish light. It startled me at first, but the stings kept coming and eventually my head became numb from pain. The flashes came to a steady rhythm, and slowly I could make out a something in front of me. It was the silhouette of a person.

Slowly, I could make out more details, and it looked like just a head with hair, but only on the top. It was light, but not quite white. After a few minutes, the flashes stopped. My head felt warm, and the room smelled like something burning.

A bright spotlight came from overhead and illuminated what I saw in brief flashes: a grey toupee on a wooden head form. It looked like Mr. Richardson's hair. I examined it briefly.

Then, I heard a slight hissing noise, as if gas was escaping from a pipe and was instantly flooded with euphoria. All I could do was look at the toupee before me. Blood rushed from my throbbing head to my member; it felt amazing; it felt erotic; it felt wrong in some ways. Soon after, I blacked out from the rush.

…

I awoke once again, feeling exhausted, unwilling to struggle to move. The room was dark once again, and the whispers seemed louder, and I could make out a few words. "Lionel Richardson…" "Bank manager…" "Tradition…" "Junior…" The words rolled around in my head at random intervals. When I finally started to hear them clearer, the stinging on my head started again; this time it was closer to the crest of my head. This time, the flashes lasted longer and were accompanied by more intense pain.

As the flashes accompanied stinging, I saw there was something else in front of me: Two cylinders. It continued, and I could see curves in them. The bottom of each one was flared and darker, and there appeared to be a line that separated the dark underneath from the paleness above. A faint glimmer of metal and a dark stripe caught my eye above that. I struggled to focus on it. Finally, I was able to understand what I was looking at. They were legs. The stinging stopped. The smell was far more pungent than last time, and the pain on my head persisted much more.

Then, the spotlight came on once again, illuminating a pair of wooden leg forms wearing dark socks and black leather sock garters with a silver metal clip.

Once I comprehended what I saw, the hissing began again and I was sent into euphoria staring at the socks and garters. My cock grew forcibly in response and even my nipples became erect. I lasted longer before passing out, but eventually the gleam of the silver clips on the garters faded from my hazy vision.

…

I have no idea how long I was out, but when I came to, the voices around me no longer sounded like whispers. I could make them out clearly, but it sounded like I was in a crowded room. I heard full sentences. "I am Lionel Richardson." "I am the regional bank manager." "I value tradition." "My dad calls me Junior." "I love my family."

The room was still dark, and I knew what was coming: another round of stings on my scalp and flashing lights. This time, the stings felt like they were on the back of my head, past the crest. The pain was very intense, and the scent was recognizable immediately. My penis betrayed me ahead of time and swelled in expectation of the erotic rush.

At first, the flashes revealed very little, other than something broad and white. Slowly, more details emerged and I could see what looked like a white tank top and briefs in front of me. The flashing and stinging suddenly became more rapid, almost like a strobe. The pain moved from the back of my head to the front over and over. It was excruciating. Just like before, though, it stopped, but only after light tears formed in my eyes from pain. Even my cock, eager for release, shrank from the discomfort.

The spotlight came on, and the object was revealed. It was a mannequin form wearing a tight, white a-shirt tucked into a pair of high-rise white briefs. As I examined the shirt and underwear further, I saw letters on the waist of the briefs: LR. I could see small ridges in the fabric of the shirt, as I began to hear the hissing.

The voices suddenly fell silent and my privates rose once again to full attention.

Then, I heard Mr. Richardson's voice clear as a bell: "A man should always dress traditionally, Junior."

A rush came over me, as endorphins flooded my system again.

He repeated: "A man should always dress traditionally, Junior." This time, it rang in my head.

As I fought to maintain consciousness, it changed: "You're nothing without your hair, son…"

It echoed in my head, ingraining the phrase on my horny mind as my eyes closed and time passed once again.

…

When I woke up this time, there were no voices. The room was bright, illuminated by an overhead light this time. I could feel something cold and smooth around my neck, but I could move my head this time. I looked around the room and saw only a dresser in the corner, and a full length mirror in front of me. On top of the dresser sat a wooden head with the grey toupee I saw in what seemed like a dream. I saw myself in the mirror, now pudgy, slightly erect, a metal collar around my neck, and fully nude. My head was bald with only a black fringe of hair around the sides. I understood what had been done. My hair was removed. Finally, I heard his voice again. “Get up, and get dressed, Junior.”

The restrains on my arms, legs, and chest were released. I sat forward with a gasp, and felt freedom for the first time in ages. I stood up, but my legs felt weak and shaky from lack of use. I looked behind me to see a metal chair with restraints fully opened. There seemed to be no door to the room behind me either.

I felt a strong shock from the collar I was wearing and heard him repeat: "Get up and get dressed, Junior."

Caught off guard, I stumbled from the pain. I nearly fell, but caught myself on the edge of the dresser. I took a deep breath and stood straight up. I reached for the top drawer and pulled it open with a slow creak. Inside were many pairs of white briefs, monogrammed "LR," ribbed white a-shirts, black socks that had a slight sheen to them, and three pairs of sock garters.

Feeling a slight chill, I decided to cover up my manhood with the briefs first. They were crisp and starched with a rise that I was sure could pass belly button. As I pulled the briefs up, I heard the hissing of gas again. I prepared to lose consciousness again, but the hissing only lasted for a moment; it was euphoria once again, albeit briefly as the waistband grasped my midsection tightly, leaving a clear silhouette of my enlivened tool.

Next, I reached for the a-shirt. Unaccustomed to wearing them, I thought it would be uncomfortable, but I pulled my arms through, and felt warmer once again.

I reached for the socks, but felt a shock from the collar before I could grab them.

I heard him say once more "A man should always dress TRADITIONALLY, Junior."

I was confused. I WAS dressing traditionally. I reached for the socks again, confused. Another shock.

He said, "A man must always be tucked and tidy, son." I understood what he meant as I glanced at my untucked shirt. I slid the bottom of the a-shirt into the high waist of my briefs, smoothing it out all the way around. It did little to hide my erect nipples, which rubbed the ribbed garment with pleasure.

A brief hiss, and another small rush.

I reached for the socks slower this time and felt the silky fabric as I finally made contact. I knelt down to place the first one on my foot and relished the smooth knit working its way up my leg to my calf. I had never worn socks like this before. They felt very nice. I slipped the other one on and enjoyed the feeling once more. Expecting another rush, I took a deep inhale and received nothing but air. I felt strangely frustrated, but intuited that there was more.

I looked to the garters and it clicked. I took the first one, wrapping it around my calf and clipping it to my sock. I cinched it tight and pulled the sock up taut. I repeated the process again, and when the sock was properly supported, I stood up. Another hiss of gas entered the room, and I was feeling great. I wiggled my toes as one hand drifted to my nipple and the other toward my cock. I thought to myself, “Is this what luxury underwear is like? It feels amazing. It feels so—“

"Now look at yourself, son.” Mr. Richardson interrupted. “This is how a man should dress."

I moved my hands away from my body in embarrassment. I walked to the mirror and took a long look at myself. I looked old and stodgy, like I was ripped out of some old sitcom.

"Look at your hair, Junior."

I stared at my pale, bald head glistening in the light.

"You're nothing without your hair, son."

His statement seemed to elude me as I looked at myself. Then, a small shock started from the collar. Very light, but persistent. I snapped out of my disbelief, and looked to the dresser once more to see the toupee sitting on the head form.

He repeated: "You're nothing without your hair, son." The shocking became worse, more painful.

I began to make my way to the dresser as he repeated once again and the shocks became nearly debilitating. Nearly within reach, he repeated one last time before I passed out from the pain, the object of reprieve inches my fingertips.

…

I awoke again in the chair, fully restrained, lights off, and head throbbing. I felt a ringing in my ears as a screen turned on in front of me. It showed a picture of Mr. Richardson; the image flickered every few seconds or so.

A small gust of air hit me, and I was taken back in my mind to the smell of his office when I had first walked in. This must have been his cologne. It smelled of light citrus and teakwood.

Then, the hissing began, and I felt the rush again, just breathing in the scent as my body responded.

I focused on the screen while taking it all in. The flickering seemed to speed up, as the word "FATHER" slowly crept into my vision and overtook the image of Mr. Richardson. It slowly faded away, as I was hit with another puff of air—more citrus and wood. The hissing began and continued this time until I passed out in euphoria some minutes or hours later, staring at Mr. Richardson's picture, "FATHER" creeping back into it all, as I faded to black. This time, I think I understood.

…

I awoke again, the room lit like before. The collar was around my neck again, and I could look around once more. I saw myself naked again and felt embarrassed, my face flushing slightly.

On queue, I heard him say "Get up and get dressed, Junior."

I was freed from my confines once again, and felt a strong shock after getting up.

He spoke: "Please respond to me when I speak to you, son."

I let out a meek, hoarse "Sorry, sir."

Another shock. "Please address me by who I am, not just 'sir.'"

"Sorry… dad?"

Another shock, but less intense. I clear my throat and muster a normal speaking voice: "Sorry, Father."

"Apology accepted, Junior, now please get dressed." He sounded almost heartfelt, but entirely formal.

I walked to the dresser again, finding a bottle of cologne labelled "LR" next to the head form this time.

I got dressed again, not waiting for the rush that he gave me for a good performance. My cock grew as I began the process: Briefs. A-shirt. Tuck it in. Socks. Garters. Then, I reached for the toupee—another shock of moderate intensity.

"Please go take a look at yourself, Junior."

I walked to the mirror once more and took myself in.

He encouraged me, "That is how a man ought to properly dress, but you're nothing without your hair son." The persistent shock began again, as I made my way to the grey toupee.

Instead of repeating, he said, "Don't you agree, Junior?"

The shock intensified until I yelp, "Yes, Father!"

The intensity lessened only slightly as he inquired, "Yes, Father, what?"

I hesitated, and the shocking swelled once again. "Yes, Father, I'm nothing without my hair!"

The shocking went down once again as I touched my hands to the grey toupee. I slowly raised it to my head and placed it on. It slid ever-so-slightly, but the shocking completely ceased.

Instinctively, I walked to the mirror once again to adjust my toupee. I cringed slightly at the grey toupee contrasting with my remaining fringe of black hair. I began shifting around the strands of fake hair with my hands, forming a rough side part that fails to blend in with my dark hair.

Father lauded me, "Very good, Junior! Now you're wearing it like your old man! Aren't you glad to have one just like me?"

"Yes, Father.” A shock. "I'm nothing without my hair."

Father responded, "Thank you, son! Now why don't you put on some cologne and make yourself presentable." I walked back to the dresser and sprayed some cologne on my wrists, neck, and toupee. Citrus and teakwood, just like Father.

The gas finally hissed in, and I felt the similar euphoric rush I felt when I have behaved correctly. A small wet spot began to form in the briefs as I stared at myself in the mirror, smelled the cologne, and passed out in ecstasy, my unsecured toupee falling inches from my head.

…

I was roused from my stupor by the sound of muffled crashes and booms. It was coming from outside the room. I was confused. The voice continued telling me who I am as the noises came closer. The lights were off and I was restrained still. I was confused. What was going on?

I heard a faint yell from outside the room: “Hallway clear, proceeding forward!”

Sweat dripped down my neck, and I began to struggle against the restraints. I wasn’t who the voices were saying I was. I was being held. The situation began to click for me. Rescue was on the way!

A light emerged from behind me as a door behind me was opened.

“Hold!” I heard an authoritative man shout as footsteps approached me from behind.

“Hello?” I questioned in a daze.

“There’s a guy in here,” the man boomed before trodding over to my front. Several sets of footsteps followed behind him.

They were clad in S.W.A.T. body armor and riot helmets. One of them removed his helmet, revealing a young but severe face and buzzcut. “Waco PD. Sgt. Mathers. Who are you?”

A softer “The fuck is this shit?” could be heard from another man, acknowledging the situation and the voice speaking in the background.

I was flustered, unsure of what to say. “I-I’m-I… Help me,” is all I could muster.

“Are you being held captive?” He questioned directly.

“Yes… Father!” I eeked, the ‘father’ leaving my lips involuntarily.

“He’s the one. Help me get him out of here,” he commanded to the men behind him.

The men started to work on the restraints as he turned to me: “I ain’t’cher daddy, boy. Now, identify yourself!”

“Li-Lio-I’on’t know.” I slurred madly.

The man held his hand up, signaling the men to stop. He seemed exasperated: “Clearly.”

The men stopped working on the restraints and backed away, their heads shaking almost dejectedly. I was even more confused. Were they here to rescue me?

The man stood straight and broadcasted, “Assessment failed. Recommending more extreme measures.” The lights cut on as the men began to exit as the unmasked one shook his head. He turned to me and said didactically “You’ll only feel good when you accept who you are.” He took a syringe from his vest pocket, flicked it twice and pressed it into my neck with a sting before walking off.

I was betrayed, crazed, confused, and hopeless as I struggled to keep my eyes open. I listened to the voice declaring “I am Lionel Richardson Junior” as I passed out.

…

“Wakey wakey, Junior,” I heard a familiar voice say as I struggled to open my eyes. I was still fully restrained, but the overhead lights were on. My whole body was sore—especially my head and groin. I finally opened them fully and was greeted with Mr. Richardson in front of me. He was dressed in a navy pinstripe three-piece suit with a red paisley necktie. My eyes immediately drifted to his silver hairpiece. He reeked of his expensive cologne, but it seemed comforting.

“There we are,” He said with a grin as my eyes finally met his. “Do you finally understand who you are?” he patronized.

“Yes… Father,” I hesitated.

“That doesn’t sound very confident. Richardsons are nothing if not confident, Junior.”

“Yes, Father,” I repeated without delay.

“Good, Junior. What is your name?” He asked deliberately.

“Lionel Richardson Junior,” I replied weakly.

“Once more with vigor, son,” He urged.

“Lionel Richardson Junior,” I stated at a normal volume.

“Good, son. Now get dressed,” he demanded.

My penis grew automatically at his approval. He moved to the side, and the restraints were released. I could see myself already in the mirror. I had gotten even fatter—not quite to fath-uh-Mr. Richardson’s proportions, but a definitive gut now hung over my substantial thighs. I groaned as I got up and pondered whether or not to make a move for him as I stood. As the thought emerged, a striking pain rapped my head. I reeled back into the seat.

“Precautions have been taken, Junior. You’d never disobey father, would you?” He challenged.

“No, father,” I said dejectedly before standing up again. “I apologize, father,” left my lips robotically as I moved toward the dresser. I had not intended to speak, nor to obey so quickly.

“Apology accepted, Junior. Now get dressed.”

It was hard for me to think of anything but obedience to him. I pulled open the top drawer to the dresser again and took the now-larger “LR” monogrammed briefs out. As I stepped into them, I felt a tingling sensation within my genitals, as if teasing an orgasm. I pulled them up to my belly button, and the sensation felt nearer and nearer to release but never came. It drove me mad to be so close to such pleasure, and I began to paw at my crotch though the briefs.

My father delivered a swift slap to my face. “How unsightly, Junior. Please, control ya’self and get dressed.”

I shook myself, still on the edge of nirvana, and slung the a-shirt over my head, immediately tucking it in to the briefs. My spine tingled and toes curled, as release felt nearer and nearer. I knew what came next. With haste, I grabbed the dark silken socks and pulled them over my feet, eager to fasten them in place with the garters. I let out a slight moan as I clipped each sock into place.

“Good, my boy. It feels good to be a Richardson, doesn’t it?” My father cooed.

“Yes, Father,” is all I could think to say, lost in the pleasure of it all.

“Now look at’cha’self,” he rang. “What’re we missin’?”

My eyes glanced between the mirror and the toupee repeatedly. I knew what was missing. I was lost in the thought of the pleasure that would come from placing the toupee on my head before he prodded: “Answer me, Junior.” The pain in my head began again.

“I’m nothing without my hair, Father!” I declared, the pain receding.

I approached the toupee on the form with a “Very good, son,” from Father. The tingling in my groin intensified as my hands touched the toupee. I lifted it onto my head with a moan. As my head made contact with the piece, a tingle went down my spine to my groin; I thought orgasm was near, but it never came no matter how much I adjusted my hair in a craze.

“Calm down, Junior. Let’cha father help ya’. Com’ere.” He beckoned me to the seat that restrained me for so long. “Let me show ya’.”

I did not have time to think before I moved in hope of release. I sat down and stared at Father’s hair in the mirror as he came around behind me. He took the toupee off of my head and removed tape from his jacket before applying it to the inside of the toupee and rolling the piece back onto my head.

“That should hold it in place now. Let’s get’cha lookin’ right like yer ol’ dad.” He removed a brush from his jacket as well before styling the toupee. As he dragged the brush through my hair, I could feel the tape pulling at my scalp. Even that felt erotic on my denuded pate. I cooed after each pass with the brush, watching him groom me. With several more strokes through my hair, my father had it looking just like his, save the ring of black hair surrounding the piece.

He put the brush back in his pocket and placed his hands on my shoulders. His palms electrified me and pushed me closer to the precipice without allowing any release. “Lookin’ better already, son. Whaddya’ think?”

“It’s perfect, Father!” I groaned in ecstasy, reaching for my hair.

“Now, now, son. Don’t want to mess it up now, do we?”

“No, Father,” I agreed.

“Exactly,” he stated with a smirk. “Now put’cher cologne on ’n wait for me here. I have a surprise I’m sure you’ll love.”

“Of course, father,” I said formally. I walked toward the dresser as he walked to the back of the room. As I sprayed the comforting Richardson aphrodisiac on my neck and wrists, I glanced behind to see a crack form in the wall behind the chair. The crack parted farther into a doorway as my father walked toward it, and into a hallway. The door stayed open as I applied the cologne and relished the scent.

I stepped back to the mirror, admiring my appearance once again. The more I looked, the more pleasurable it felt: the high briefs, that did little to hide my engorged, leaking member; the undershirt, that coaxed my nipples to the size of dimes; the silky socks that caressed my toes and calves; the sock garters that kept them taut and gripped my legs; and especially the toupee that covered my baldness and finished the family resemblance.

Eventually, my eyes fell to the door reflected in the mirror. The vague thoughts of making a run for it were met with the pain of the harshest migraine I could have imagined. Respite only came as I focused on obedience and my appearance; the pleasure soon followed, forcing a smile onto my face as I pawed at myself in privacy.

After a moment to myself, I heard the hard clacking of Father’s footsteps approaching and stood straight up, locking eyes with myself in the mirror. He approached from behind carrying several bagged hangers and a shoe box.

“Are ya’ ready, son?” He teased.

“Yes, Father.”

“Good!” He said, placing the hanger bags down on the dresser and removing a pair of pleated, navy pinstripe trousers. “These are for you,” he said cheerily. They were a matching pair to his own.

He handed them to me with a smile and I stepped into them hungrily, pulling the wool up to my bellybutton. Next, he handed me a white dress shirt with French cuffs and watched as I pulled my arms through and buttoned the buttons. Before I could finish, he reminded me “Tucked and tidy, son!”

I tucked the shirt in as he fished out a pair of gold cufflinks. I caught a good look at the engraving on them as he handed them to me: “Jr.” I blushed and fastened them with confused erotic pride. Next came the red suspenders that he fastened to my pants personally, peeling back my waistline to button them to my pants underneath. The braces pulled my pants up even higher, leaving a bulge for each of my balls—eager for release—visible.

He then pulled out a pair of shiny black penny loafers from the box he brought. He set them out before me with an expectant smile. I stepped into them, the luxurious socks sliding smoothly against the leather of the shoes. As my heels hit the insoles, a puff of pleasure emanated from the shoes like a wave until it hit my groin. Once again, release did not come, but I was desperate for more.

Father then revealed a red paisley bow tie. The pattern was the same as his necktie. “Like father, like son,” he teased before draping the silk around my neck and buttoning my collar button. He deftly tied it on me, and I nearly felt complete.

He took the last garment from the bag, a navy pinstripe jacket, matching his. “Arms out, Junior,” he commanded. I obeyed. My arms slid through the luxurious lining, and my hands and cuffs emerged at the end. He buttoned the top button before standing back to admire his work.

I looked at him, then at my reflection as a grand smile appeared on his face. A similar smile formed on mine. My cock was throbbing, aching for release and satisfaction as I looked at the two of us. “Wow!” Was all I could manage to say.

“Wow, indeed, Junior,” he punctuated. “Wow indeed.” He approached me and leaned in for a hug. The scent of his cologne and the feel of his his body against mine sent me reeling. I would do anything for this man. I would do anything for my father.

He rubbed my back with his hand as he embraced me, and I felt secure. The sense of danger I developed over the period had faded. He pulled back with a smile and locked eyes with me.

“What’s yer name, son?” He asked.

"I am Lionel Richardson, Jr.”

“What do ya’ do for a living?” He continued.

"I am the regional bank manager."

“What’s important to ya’?”

"I value tradition,” I said, as my balls began to churn like never before.

“Do ya’ have any nicknames?”

“My dad calls me Junior." It became hard to maintain my composure as the line of questions came.

“Is there anything else I should know about you?” His smile grew.

"I love my family." Everything became clear with this statement.

His smirk evolved into a wide grin: “I know the whole interview process was a bit of a formality, Son, but thank ya’ for goin’ through the steps with me. Consider ya’self promoted officially.”

I was in ecstasy. “Thank you, Father.”

“No. Thank you, Junior. You’ve grown up quite a bit at college.”

We paused momentarily, a tear of pleasure forming in my eye. He continued: “I’m proud of ya’, son. Real proud.”

His words echoed in my head and went straight to my core. A tingling emanated from the back of my neck and from my feet. The sensations met at my groin as I convulsed in pleasure. Stream after stream erupted from my cock as I fell back into the chair that once restrained me. The pleasure continued pulse after pulse as I soaked my briefs and then my suit pants with semen. I panted heavily, focused on my father’s proud face and shiny toupee as I passed out in pleasure.

…

The alarm clock blared. I was disoriented. My eyes opened and I found myself in a luxurious bedroom. I slammed my hand onto the clock, silencing the cacophony. I groaned, rubbed my eyes, and threw the silky sheets off. I was free? It felt normal. Was it all a dream?

I rubbed my bald crown, and heard a call from outside the room: “Get up and get dressed, Junior!” It was my father. I felt a slight pain in my head before I got up. I went to my antique wooden dresser and proceeded as I always did: White monogrammed briefs pulled up to my bellybutton; a ribbed white tank tucked into them; black silk socks, fastened by garters. I went to the en suite bathroom and looked at myself. I felt good and looked good. My cock grew within my briefs—morning wood, I thought.

I placed the tape in my grey toupee and placed it on my head. There was a light contrast from my black fringe, but there was some greying; no one would notice. I spritzed myself with cologne, taking a big inhale before walking to the closet. A charcoal grey suit would do for today, and an orange bow tie, I decided.

I got dressed quickly. My father was waiting. The growth in my groin could not be taken care of this morning, unfortunately. Pleated pants, white shirt, navy suspenders, black tassel loafers, burnt orange bow, jacket, and ready to go.

I emerged from my room and was immediately greeted by my father. He wore a charcoal suit and orange necktie today. We were nearly identical again. “Junior! I was just about to pop in and check on ya’. Ready to head in? I’ve got an intern pickin’ up breakfast this mornin’.”

“Yes, Father. I’m excited for my first day in the position.” I said giddily, but automatically.

“Great! I already got that corner office on the fourth floor cleared out for ya’. Make the best of it,” he advised.

We went downstairs past our housekeeper who waved us off and into a black car. A stern looking young man in a buzz cut opened the door and ushered us in. The drive was short, and uneventful. When we arrived at the office, the receptionist greeted us, welcomed me back from college, and passed me a wink as we walked toward the elevator. I pressed my keycard to the reader with a sense of deja vu as I examined my hair in the reflective elevator door. It was good to be the owner’s son.

[celestialship]

A Job Offer

Megan is having a slow day at work when she gets a strange visitor.

word count: 1,884

content warning: none

Megan was beginning to regret this counseling degree.

Here she was, a jujutsu sorcerer with the power to manipulate electricity - capable of forming entire storms with her fingertips - and what was she doing with that power? Sitting behind a desk in an office at a middle school, tapping her digits on the mahogany and watching sparks of electricity hop from finger to finger in an attempt to combat her boredom. With how little the staff, as well as the students, cared about her position at this school, it was difficult to motivate herself to get any work done. Reach out to a teacher to discuss a child’s IEP just to be told “I don’t do that in my classroom?” Call a troubled kid in to ask about his behaviors, just to get hit with a poorly done “deez nuts” joke? Forget it.

Absentmindedly Megan pulled at their dark green cardigan, just to get shocked by the electricity they were generating. “Ow,” they muttered, more so in reaction than genuine pain. Megan pulled at their wavy dark brown hair in an attempt to smooth out any static. They glanced over to the ticking clock on the cinder block wall painted prison gray. 1:15. There were still about two hours left of the school day. And it was dragging.

She groaned to herself at the thought of sitting in front of a computer for two more hours and then some, but her thoughts were cut off at the sound of her door opening. Megan flinched, not expecting the sudden noise. “Miss Lea? You have a visitor!” The shrill voice of the office secretary called from down the hallway, clearly trying to intercept before the visitor stepped in so she could say she gave Megan a heads-up. Barely.

Into the office entered a man that Megan had certainly never seen before. Tall with a lean, muscular build, the most notable feature about him was the fact that Megan could not see his eyes. Rather, his eyes were covered by a black blindfold. His blindfold pushed his snow-white hair up into a spiky appearance. He wore an all black outfit with a slight purple hue, and as he stepped into the room, he seemed to know exactly where he was going despite being unable to see. 

Whenever something - or someone - odd came up in Megan’s life, they chalked it up to that side of herself that many were not aware of; the side of them that belonged to the world of jujutsu sorcery. So when a man came in wearing a blindfold and didn’t hit his shin on one of the chairs in front of Megan’s desk as he approached, they assumed he must have been from the world their secret life dwelled in. And sure enough, when Megan narrowed their dark eyes to try and concentrate, to sense if this man put off any cursed energy, what Megan got back was an abundance of it. So much so that Megan temporarily wondered if there was some kind of jujutsu god that they had not gotten the memo about - and in this office?

“Mind if I sit down, Miss Lea?” The man had an ornery tone as he did not wait for an answer, and sat down in one of the two cushion seats in front of Megan’s desk. He gave a playful smile, which Megan returned with a look of scrutiny. 

“Depends. What brings you into my office?” With the amount of cursed energy this man was putting off, and with Megan’s avoidance of the sorcery side of her life, she was immediately suspicious. Under her desk, Megan rubbed her fingers together and felt the electricity begin to spark.

“Whoa, ready to fight already? They were right about you.” His voice was full of amusement, and Megan glanced down at the electricity growing in her palms. How did he know? His eyes were behind a blindfold and her hand was behind her desk. How did he “see” her electricity? 

“Who is ‘they’?” Megan shot back, keeping her electricity sparking despite the stranger’s callout. “Matter of fact, who are you?”

The man groaned and leaned back in his chair. “I forgot, you Americans, you’re so out of touch with things in the jujutsu world. Otherwise, you definitely would have heard of me.”

“So enlighten me.”

“Satoru Gojo. Teacher at Jujutsu High in Tokyo. Special grade. Nice to meet you.” He sat up as he introduced himself.

Satoru Gojo. The name echoed in Megan’s brain as she racked for where she had heard it before. Despite her disconnect from the jujutsu world, she still knew who this was. Anyone in the jujutsu world would know Satoru Gojo - “special grade” was an understatement. This was the man who had been born with a combination of cursed techniques not seen in hundreds of years.

It also explained how he could see Megan’s use of their cursed technique, even behind a blindfold and them being behind a desk. “You’re the Six Eyes guy,” Megan said. 

“Six Eyes, and Limitless, thank you very much. So you have heard of me.” The smirk on his face immediately made Megan regret letting him know he was notable. She knew this type of guy. Self-important. Arrogant. Famously difficult to get a word in with during meetings.

“So what is Satoru Gojo doing in an American middle school?” Megan inquired.

“Oh, well, that’s simple. I’m here for you!”

Megan stared in disbelief. “...For me?”

“For you.”

Megan could not believe that someone sent Satoru Gojo here to kill her. She wasn’t even that important. How the hell was she going to take this guy in a school? Nonetheless, Megan allowed her electricity to crackle, jumping across her body, sparking from her eyes–

“Whoa, whoa, not like that!” Gojo put his hands up defensively. “Put the lightning down, miss. You’re supposed to be a counselor, aren’t you? Let’s not jump to fighting, now!”

“How do you know who I am?” Megan stood up from her chair, not letting her guard down. Unfortunately, Gojo did not look very intimidated. At the most, he appeared inconvenienced. Megan could almost hear his eyes roll as he stood up in return.

“I have my resources, I have my people. Stop shooting your sparks and let’s talk like adults, hm?”

They had to admit, they did not want to fight the world’s strongest sorcerer. Especially considering if - when - they lost, the middle schoolers would never let them hear the end of it. Reluctantly, Megan allowed her cursed technique to mellow out, allowing her eyes to return to their normal color of dark brown.

“Good girl. Now we’re getting somewhere!” He clapped his hands together enthusiastically. Megan scoffed at his demeanor, this grown man acting like this. “You really do have a unique power.”

“Tell me what you want.” Megan bristled, not trying to linger on niceties. 

Gojo sighed. “Well…Jujutsu High needs a guidance counselor.”

Silence hung in the air for a few beats.

“...A guidance counselor?” Megan echoed.

“Desperately.”

“...And you don’t have anyone qualified in Japan?”

“Oh, I’m sure we do. But I wanted you.” Gojo smiled, and leaned over the desk towards Megan. She froze, not wanting to step back for fear of appearing easily intimidated or frightened. However, the sorcerer’s face was leaning much closer, bordering on uncomfortably so. She could see every detail of his face, and caught herself thinking, he certainly isn’t unattractive. Megan immediately tried to dismiss the thought, wanting to combat the heat rising in her face. But it didn’t help that at this point, Megan could almost feel his breath on her. What is he doing?

“Hmm, yeah. I think you’ll do great. I can feel your power.” He grinned, and Megan was unsure of where to look as he examined her up close. What did it matter how close he was, anyway? He had the Six Eyes technique, not to mention a blindfold on.

“You can feel it while not being in my personal space, y’know.”

Gojo leaned back right away. “Guess I don’t want to risk the sparks, huh?” he chuckled. 

“Right. Now tell me - why me?”

His smile fell a little, and he recollected himself. “Well, there was word of a jujutsu sorcerer in America who could create storms. Possibly hurricanes.” As he said this, Megan knew this was an exaggerated rumor; she had not yet created a hurricane, but he didn’t need to know that. “We don’t have any sorcerers like that in Japan. And when I found out that this sorcerer also held a degree in counseling, I thought – how perfect! Mental health is something that is really overlooked in jujutsu society, and the kiddos at Jujutsu High could really use the help. Y’know, I’d really like you to take a look at Megumi. There’s always been something weird about that kid–”

“Hold on, slow down.” Megan waved her hands in an attempt to get his attention from his monologue. “You’d have me relocate from the United States to Japan? How soon?”

“Like, tomorrow.”

Megan blinked. “I’m sorry, tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow! We really need someone ASAP.”

She scoffed. “I can’t just uproot my entire life for you and your high school in Japan.”

“How about just for me?” He grinned, but this grin fell when he saw Megan’s expression did not change. He cleared his throat. “Okay - well, how about this. I can offer money.”

“I think offering your employees a salary is the bare minimum,” Megan scoffed, crossing her arms.

“More money than you’re making here,” Gojo clarified. “I know your salary here is barely a livable wage. I can offer more than that, and benefits.”

“Let me see a figure.”

Gojo reached into his pocket and produced a phone, and began tapping his long fingers on the screen. Megan stood a bit awkwardly, watching him as he worked to pull something up. After a little bit, he turned the screen around to show Megan the number. “I converted it to US dollars so you’d understand the amount.”

The figure that Satoru Gojo shared with Megan was one that she doubted she’d be able to amount to in ten years as a middle school counselor. Megan knew her expression looked a little dumbfounded, because Gojo appeared a bit too satisfied at her reaction judging by his sly grin.

Megan would have to be stupid not to accept the offer. With this money they would never have to worry about bills. And where Megan lived, there was not a lot to keep them around. Their job was shit, none of their friends or family lived nearby, and they were burnt out and in need of change. Quitting this position was a long time coming - Megan just never expected the next opportunity to walk right into their office.

Besides, if Megan really had as much potential as Satoru Gojo suggested, it was something to explore, not hide away. Megan was neglecting a part of herself that was fundamentally her. To work somewhere that paid well, had benefits, made her feel secure, and allowed her to explore this part of herself…

“When do we leave?”

Gojo put the phone back in his pocket, maintaining a satisfied smirk. “Tomorrow at nine in the morning. Let your coworkers know you won’t be here.”

[billiedeansbitch]

𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

note: so if you're wonder why it seems like a different account I deleted my previous blog accidentally.

warning/s: SMUT. NSFW

It was lunch when your phone pinged denoting a text message.

Come to my office, it read. It was immediately followed by NOW.

Without hesitating, you typed your response: on my way.

There was this odd excitement pounding in your chest as you shuffle in your purse for bills to pay your share.

Receiving a message such as bizarre and out of nowhere like this could only mean two things these days, (one) Larissa's erotic desires had won the best of her and (two) Wednesday gad gotten into her nerves. Much to your amusement about the Principal being beyond vexed by the young girl, you wholeheartedly prefer the former option.

The food in your plate was barely cold, meaning it had only been served, five minutes ago in fact. You drank some cold water and wiped your lips before pushing back the chair, standing up, your colleagues looked at you in confusion.

"I'm sorry but I have to go." They didn't make any queries as to why you had to leave so sudden. After bidding quick goodbye, you had left.

Be there in twenty. It was the last message you sent before starting the engine of your car.

The drive from Jericho to Nevermore usually took thirty minutes to forty-five, but that was when you had Larissa sitting in the passenger's seat. Without her, you confidently could make it in twenty, unless God would intervene with your plans...

Fortunately he did not, not today. You made it as promised in twenty minutes and fifty-five seconds.

In haste, you almost forgot the box of cupcakes you ordered prior to getting lunch. It was Larissa's favourite.

Upon reaching the front of her office, you could already hear the heavy stomps her footsteps made, she was pacing. With furrowed brows, you entered, and found her in front of the fireplace with a glass of bourbon in hand and it was only midday.

You shut the door, removed your coat and placed the box on her desk. Still not getting an idea why would the headmistress call you in her office in the middle of fucking lunch.

Larissa Weems only watched you, sipping the liquid in her hand casually. You eyed her with a cocked brow, "Should I sit?"

She irritatedly sighed to herself, "Yes, yes of course. Take a seat, please." and you did, you boldly sat in her office chair. Comfortably nesting in the cushioned seat, your palms feeling in the lavish texture of the arm rest.

Larissa was taken, unaccustomed to the behaviour you exhibited. It was so unlike you to be...cocky.

You looked so perfect in her chair, nonetheless. She almost wanted to straddle your lap and take you right there but her mind was too clouded with something else. She decided her desire could wait.

"Wednesday broke in in the Gates' mansion." She started through gritted teeth. You didn't say anything, instead you merely gave her a nod for her to continue. You knew it was the preamble to a long speech of how frustrated she was with the young Addams so you braced yourself, gathered your thoughts and slid them in a bottle.

Somehow, despite your best efforts to listen, she had lost you within the next five minutes.

You couldn't shake how her dress hugged her curves and muscles in the most delicious way. How it accentuated her broad shoulders and showcased her back. She looked phenomenal. You couldn't help yourself from the sins you were ready to commit in the next few minutes.

Abruptly, you interrupted her mid-ranting with a question that stunned her and made her face flushed, "Are you wearing knickers?" It wasn't just the question itself that surprised her, more than that it was the way you delivered the question as if you were only inquiring about the weather, so fucking innocent and smooth.

For the whole span of time she was pacing in front of her desk, your eyes had been, well, fixated on her bum. There was no visible sign of anything underneath the fabric and it had been rattling your mind.

She huffed, "Why of course!" her tone a little too defensive in your ears.

Her blush spread down to her chest and up to her ears when she caught your gaze lingering on her body. The chills she felt wasn't uncomfortable.

There was something in your eyes that just scream how much you wanted her right now and she liked it. She loved the idea of you being so disoriented because you couldn't stop thinking about her. She indulged in the notion of you incapable of looking away from her. Fuck, this was making her wet.

Your head tilted to the side, "Come sit on my lap, Larissa."

"What? Don't be ridiculous. I'd crush you with my weight." although Larissa had countless thoughts of slipping over your lap while kissing you senseless she hadn't actually done it. Not once. Always too afraid to be too much.

"Sit on my lap, Larissa." It came out firmer with a tone that wouldn't entertain any of her further objections.

"Right here, baby." you added while motioning on your lap.

She did, tentatively, but she finally climbed your lap. You hummed, displaying the satisfaction on your face with the grin on your lips. You had your hands brushing the sides of her thighs, her arms looped around your neck.

Her eyes were searching for any discomfort, ears attentive to the sounds you made. She didn't want to hurt you.

"Good girl. Now tell me what bra are you wearing?"

You felt her stiffened under you touch, "I'm not wearing one." sated, your hand surged for the clothed nipple, pinching it between your thumb and index finger.

She hissed but her body arched, encouraging you for more before her forehead was pressed on the crook of your neck.

You moaned, it was dirty and loud. "You always smell so good." She smelled of floral and vanilla, with a hint of sweat, altogether it made your heart swoon.

Larissa didn't understand your fascination with her scent, she would always make ridiculous statements to invalidate your words but none seemed to make any impact.

"It makes me want to fuck you." she then felt your hands creeping up to her ass and squeezing the flesh with both hands making her body jolt toward to your front once more.

Your breath was hot on her neck, "Can I fuck you right here, Larissa? Would that be alright?" as soon as it was finished, the tip of your tongue ran a long stripe to the length of her neck up to the sensitive spot under her left ear.

She couldn't help herself but reward you with a gut-twisting whimper. "Is that a yes, my love?" She nodded with enthusiasm, "Yes, yes, please." Her frustration over Wednesday Addams was washed off but her overwhelming need for you.

With her consent, you launched forward and kissed her, sweet and messy with frantic hands moving to push the dress up her thighs. She helped by lifting her body a tad bit. Soon your hand was skimming on the insides of her thighs, lavishing the heat that was radiating off her skin.

Larissa bucked her hips, eager to be touched, to be worshiped by your skilled hands. She wanted to melt from your touch, be fucked with total abandon like she always dreamed of. She wanted to surrender herself to you.

"Fuck me. Come on, what are you waiting for?"

The moment your fingertips met the bare lips of her cunt, you let out a groan and went toward Larissa's shoulder, giving her a playful bite. She lied. She wasn't wearing anything underneath her dress. Not anything. The knowledge that she had been walking around this morning without underwear made you almost growl.

For a fraction of second you swore she flashed you a smirk before it contorted into desire filled expression. How long had she been trying to orchestrate this?

Her hands automatically gripped your shoulder blades, steadying herself while she grind herself against your fingers, coaxing you to slide your fingers up her cunt and fill her in. She was aching, her walls were gripping around nothing, she needed you bad.

You complied, not making her wait any further, and slip two fingers in with so much ease at how drenched she was. "God, yes." She had her head thrown back, displaying the expanse of skin you could devour so you did, kissing and lapping on the skin, leaving bites along her neck down to her chest.

The squelching sound filled the room together with the whimpers and moans the spilled her swollen lips. God, she loved having you inside her, feeling you curl your fingers and forcing the length of your digits up into her. You kept thrusting into her, she kept taking you in, slamming herself down your fingers, and before she knew it, she was trembling, the ache between her legs was melting her bones.

"Come on, keep those strong legs open for me." You said, swirling your tongue around her earlobe, "I can't. I can't take it anymore." She was panting and tired.

"You can. You will take me." She nodded but she wasn't sure, she just wanted to pleasure you.

"Good girl." You pecked her cheeks, a sweet gesture, and fucked her senseless even more.

She came hard and loud, everything about her was flushed, even her cunt.

You weren't done yet, but you gave her some time to gather herself and breathe. You took the moment to kiss her lightly, feel her skin against your fingers tip, and wiped the sweat off her brow.

"You look so beautiful." She leaned to your touch, your thumb caressing her cheekbone while you cupped her face tenderly. "And well fucked. But I'm not done yet, baby. Do you think you can come for me one more time?"

God, her senses spiked again, she knew she was well spent but she was greedy so she gave you a weak nod. The smile on your lips told her it was all going to be worth it.

The time your lips met hers she initiated it. Both of her hands were cupping your face, your body bent down to match her height as she was now sitting on her chair and you were standing up between her legs.

While busy tasting her mouth and playing with her tongue, your deft hands were taking pleasure at how soft her pert breasts were. They weren't big but they were sublime, enough to make you drool at how pink and big her nipples were.

"That's it, yes, guide my face where you want me." Later you met with her nipples, your knees touching the carpeted floor.

She was looking down at you, a hand on your cheek and the other on your shoulder, "Easy, love." While you suckled and nipped on her breasts like it was the only thing keeping you alive. Perhaps it was.

Larissa's eyes rolled to the back of her head once she felt your mouth on her core, her hand grabbed the back of your head.

The stimulation from before was breathtakingly good, so good that the aftershocks helped her this time to come faster, your tongue thrusting in as far as you could with your jaw aching, your thumbs holding the lips of her cunt open for you. And she watched you with intent while you fucked over and over again, this time with your sweet tongue.

Her finger weaved through your hair and pulled you, her muscles were twitching, it was too much but you forced her a little more. "Ugh, fuck, baby! I'm coming. I'm coming, (y/n)."

You stayed in between her thighs for a while, and Larissa remained seated, one leg propped up your shoulder still. Both of you were trying to recover as much as energy you could.

"Do you have any idea how amazing you look right now?" your eyes were shameless as they shift from her face to her throbbing cunt, flushed from all the fucking and sucking you did. "Your cunt was better than my lunch." And you winked at her before standing up on your feet, your knees popping.

Larissa still hadn't moved, she didn't want to. She couldn't even bring herself to speak. All she wanted to do was lie in bed and sleep.

You chuckled at the lack of response when you were trying to give her the dress you peeled off from her.

"You took it off me, you should put it back on."

"Okay, fine. But come and stand up please."

"I don't want to."

You walked to her, leaning to place a kiss on her forehead, "But you have to, darling. You need to."

"Maybe not." And smiled, all upper teeth showing before she pulled you into her lap and smothered you with kisses. "Larissa!" you yelped, feeling her tickle you sides and nuzzle her face to your most sensitive spots making you giggle more.

"I love you, Larissa."

"I love you, too."

"Now let's have lunch. I'm absolutely famished." And you said this at three in the fucking afternoon.

Larissa couldn't agree more as hunger settled quick in her stomach.

[chioneeirwen]

The Search...

Chione had spent days trying to find a contract to hire. And still, no one bit the bait. Groaning, she threw the files of these missing men on her desk, littering the already disorganized mess she made. 

“Ugh… I’m just about to look for these damned fools myself. How has NO ONE taken the bait for gil? It seems like no one cares about workers anymore. Especially if they’re not wealthy, with gold lining their pockets.” Chione spat in annoyance. She was clueless about what to do next. And, of course, since she earned the rank of Lieutenant at the Barracks, everyone was too afraid of her to even speak to her. Another sigh left her lips as she pushed away from her desk, her back hitting the cushioned seat behind her. Her arm bent, and her forefinger and middle finger rested at her temple to ease the pressure that was building behind her eyes from reading too much in such piss-poor lighting. Eventually, she stood and picked up the papers and put them back in a neat pile before placing them back into their folder and putting them in the safe that was embedded into the stone wall behind her desk. Clearing her desk completely, she sighed before approaching a small servant’s cart, taking a wine glass, flipping it over, and pouring crimson liquid into the container. She returned to her office chair, her mind clouded by those people who went missing. 

“Twelve hear me… Please let these people be safe…” Chione whispered to the cold air, earning silence as her response. She relaxed, practically melting into the seat, taking a drink from the wine glass. Another sigh left her nostrils. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear a rap at her door before hearing the hinges squeak. Looking up, she sees she’s met with her maid, Teagan. “Oh, Teagan! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you knock. Please come in,” Chione invited with a pleasant smile. Teagan returned her smile and entered Chione’s chambers fully, the room feeling homey and clean. 

“What can I do for you this evening, Teagan? It is rather late, and I figured you and the rest of the household would be asleep by now,” Chione said, straightening in her seat and trying to remain proper in front of her attendant. 

“I’m sorry for the late intrusion, Milady,” Teagan began, bowing swiftly in greeting. 

“No need to apologize! Is something amiss?” Teagan pulled a missive from her coat and handed it to Chione. “I think someone answered your bounty, milady…” Chione stood from her leather-cushioned armchair, and gently took the letter from Teagan’s grasp and used a small blade to open the parchment. Inside was indeed a response, but the name was unfamiliar to her. Chione looked back up at her maid, who was lightly playing with her fingers.

“Thank you for delivering this to me, Teag… Did someone give this to you, or was it dropped off?” She questioned as she placed the missive back on her desk. The maid shook her head, “I didn’t see anyone when I heard the knock on the door. I came down the stairs from my bed chambers, walked to the door, and saw this missive jammed in the door frame. It looked like whoever responded didn’t want to be seen or spoken to. I opened the front door and looked around but didn’t see anyone.” 

Chione sat back in her chair and pondered, her fingers touching her palm, her thumb and forefinger resting against her chin. After sitting there silently, Teagan clears her throat and pulls the Lady out of thought. “A-Also, Milady, I wanted to congratulate you on your promotion to Lieutenant. You are more than deserving of this promotion and its power.” Teagan said with a simpered smile. Chione looks up at her and responds with a smile. “Thank you, Teagan. Your kindness is appreciated.” She finishes with a grin. 

The tall elezen man stood in a dark alleyway of a noble home he’d known since he could walk on his own two feet. Their families history running long and deep that their parents pushed for the young woman and man to become quick friends and possibly mates. However, at a young age, Hex found himself annoyed of the young girl and was quick to push her to the ground and pull at her hair in passing. 

Even in Sharlayan he continued to be her bully, but that one fateful Starlight Celebration and he was without a family to celebrate with, he found Chione standing amongst others before inserting himself. The years hadn’t been kind between them, but for that celebration she was his salvation. Since then, he’s held a certain soft spot when it came to her, but of course he wouldn’t admit it. 

Now that he’d seen her missive, searching for her men, he found himself answering her call while standing silently in the shadows of the dark cold night. Silently cursing himself on his decision to answer, he was close to leaving when he saw her window light still on that he found himself scaling the walls and up the window where he’d find himself perched all those years before. 

Hex listened to the conversation and waited for the maid to leave. When she did, he reached for the window to see if she left it unlocked like she did before, and to his surprise, it was open. Pushing it open slowly, he stepped through the window frame, his soft leather padding of his boot hitting the floorboards bringing in a slight chill to the otherwise warm room. 

“Long time no see, kitten.” Hex spoke in a soft and low baritone. 

“Sleep well, Teag… I’ll see you bright and early in the morning,” Chione said, a warm smile tugging her lips. Teagan bowed graciously. “Goodnight, Milady.” 

Chione nodded, and Teagan left. Hearing the hinges creak to a close, Chione let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding in. Soon, she felt a draft and a slight shiver ran up her spine. Standing from her seat, she pulled her linen robe around her torso and slid her slippers back onto her feet before walking towards her window when that all too familiar voice echoed into her ears again. Looking at her window, she saw the tall Elezen man lean against the wall beside the now-closed pane.

“Silas…” Chione gaped in surprise, feeling a little revealing in front of the man she hadn’t seen in almost a decade. The memories of her bully becoming her lover in an all too quick time, just for it all to wash away. And now the man she thought she’d never see again was standing in front of her with an all too familiar smirk, and the bass in his voice sent a chill up her spine. “What are you doing here?” Chione questioned as she pulled her garments closer to her body. 

“It appears you got my missive.” Silas pushed himself from the window pane and walked towards her slowly. For someone who hated the cold he definitely wasn’t dressed for a cold winter night in Coerthas. Home to his father, Chione and himself, once upon a time. 

“And it appears congratulations are in order, Lieutenant.” Silas said lowering himself to meet her gaze with a slight tilt to his head and a smirk on his lips. He wore nothing but a leather jacket, pants, and a thin pair of gloves. Silas pulled one glove from his hand, and if allowed he’d reach over to line his fingers against the lapels of her linen robe. 

Silas kept his eyes on where his hand was placed before he slowly retracted and raised that same hand to brush his grey hair back. His red unusual eyes glistened in the soft light when he turned his gaze back down to her. 

“Your bounty,” Silas started off by saying and giving a brief pause. “You’re losing men and no one is willing to search for them?” He asked going straight to business to distract himself from his wandering mind. 

His mind kept going back to their brief romance. How stupidly infatuated with her but his own mistake causing them to argue and ultimately ending their romance. Again Silas removed his gaze to distract himself further, allowing her the time to give more information on the men she’d lost and about the bounty itself. 

Chione’s eyes glared slightly at the male in front of her as he told her about the anonymous letter. Her breath hitched in her throat as he reached to touch her, but only pinching the folds of the collar on her robe, her nerves shot. Feeling the warmth from his fingers behind the only layer of clothing between them, she began to get butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Watching him as he pulled his hand away to brush the soft hair she once used to play with out of his face.

“Thank you,” Chione responded quickly, hearing him congratulate her on her promotion. “But you’re the one who responded to my message? Why would you want to help me? I thought you had other things to worry about,” she said, trying to sound dismissive toward the man. She returned to her desk and grabbed her wine, which she took a rather large drink from—another sigh leaving her small frame. 

“I haven’t seen or heard from you in over a decade, and THIS is how you choose to rekindle the friendship? A silly message response?” Chione said with a tinge of sadness as she turned back to look at Silas, her baby blues piercing his crimson eyes. Sighing, she rolled her eyes and returned to her desk chair, sitting down, her hands resting over her face. The blonde-haired woman was shocked. She couldn’t even describe her feelings as Silas stood in her bed chambers. 

“What you can say, kitten is thank you, Silas for helping me.” He followed after her, his boots loose of any snow that had stuck to the soles, now leaving wet traces in his wake. 

Silas stopped as she poured herself some wine and sighed as she returned to her desk chair. A sight to behold. He told himself. And once again he was cursing his mind for how quick it was to wander to their shared past. 

Instead of arguing with her, at least for that moment he leaned down and tilted her chin up with his thumb and index finger. “Allow me to start over.” Silas whispered. 

“Hello, Chione, it’s been a while, did you miss me, my kitten?” His voice lowered now that he was face to face with her. 

Chione’s breath hitched in her throat. Hearing him tease her over her reaction to him showing up at her home in Coerthas, where the weather was harsh and extremely cold, the blonde-haired woman looked up slightly, seeing him approach her massive desk. Hearing his words, she put her head down again, still shocked about him showing up. Chione suddenly felt soft, yet cool skin touch her face before her head moved slightly to look up at the tall man. His words were like a song, sending palpitating beats through her heart. Her blue orbs watered slightly. 

“Of course I missed you… You left me alone after I found you with a girl who absolutely despised me. You cheated on me, then degraded me to your friends while the same bitch was on your arm like a trophy… And here I am, feeling conflicted because you want to apologize.” She paused, the water in her eyes causing her vision to blur. “And you want to ‘start over?’ What am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to feel?” Chione whispered, pulling her face away from his digits. Standing up, she finished her glass and placed it on the dark oak desk—a heavy sigh leaving her body. 

“How many times are you going to put me through the mental stress..?” Chione whispers, turning to look up at Silas. Hurt evident in her facial features. 

            “I would've killed for you to love me, but it was always me getting bullied instead. Or you yanking on my hair and shoving me… Whereas, I would and always did bend over backwards for you and put you on such a high pedestal…” Chione spoke softly, her emotions getting to her.

Silas was never overly confident when it came to Chione. As a child he’d argue that he couldn’t stand her because their families placed too much expectation on them to be friends and later mates if they chose to do so. He hated how much he loved the colour of her eyes, almost muttering under his breath that he could drown in them, of course never loud enough for her to hear, perhaps except the one time he said it out loud. While they welled up with water, he wanted to wipe them away but before he could, she had already turned her head away from him. 

Chione always knew how to pull herself away from him, protecting not only herself but her heart too. And there was little reason why she should trust him when all he’d done was hurt her. Whether it was physical or even mentally. Silas was hardly the good man his family hoped he’d be. Her words were like different knives, stabbing into him. Each word true. He did wrap his arms around a girl, but the cheating, he took no part in. Truth be told, he teased the girl relentlessly in a bid to see who could get her more interested in him only to reject her later. Silas stooped low when she brought up Chione. The girl hated her for some unknown reason and likely took in the fact that he too used to feel the same.

A silly game he and his friends played but never wanted to when it came to Chione. But she wouldn’t believe him, not after this long. It’s been a decade since. While she got up to stand, his shoulder brushed against hers and he stayed leaning forward while reflecting on his past actions. 

“You know I never wanted to hurt you.” His voice low and sorrowful. “Not in that way, but you wouldn’t understand.” Silas finally stood and turned to face her. His ungloved hand reaching out for her again but this time he stopped himself from touching her. 

Silas’ hand fell to his side, his fingers lightly tapping against his leg like he used to do as a child whenever he was lost in thought. He couldn’t exactly tell her that he wanted to be everything he wasn’t, for her. To be worthy of her affections and partner. But just like before, he was stopping himself from telling her more than he had to. 

“I didn’t come here to bring you duress, I saw your bounty and wanted to help. As a member of the Kane family, even… unofficially and even if I’d been disowned, I can still help.” Silas deflected. “Our families as far as I know still have some sort of relationship.”

When Silas left the first time and after hurting Chione, he argued with his father that sent waves of shock throughout the noble house as well as the rest of Ishgard. Not only did his father disown him, but Silas was no where to be seen. He’d heard that the house was in chaos, a promise of marriage and proposal rumours circulated but with Silas gone and Silas Sr’s lips tight. The rumours became baseless and the house carried on as usual, just without the sole heir. 

“If you wish for me to leave, then I can go. Is me being here worth that to you?” Silas inquired, this time looking into her eyes. His fingers still tapping lightly at his leg. 

Chione turned to face Silas again, her eyes still full of tears and her lip quivered slightly.

“No, I don’t want you to leave. But hearing you say you never wanted to hurt me and that I don’t understand? What do I not understand? What you did was awful… Tell me to my face that you didn’t cheat on me. That’s all everyone spoke about after we broke up.” Chione said, the hurt in her features evident. She approached Silas with vigor, her feet still silent against the floorboards, taking his hand to stop his tapping, knowing that was a habit he’d had since she had known him. Looking up at his features, she couldn’t help but think about their past together. How he used to push her around, pull her braid, and or made her feel inferior. Her blonde waves cloaked her shoulders as her long curtain-like bangs framed her face. Her baby blues burning holes into the right side of his face, pleading silently to look at her. 

“I appreciate you wanting to help me… I’m sorry for not expressing my gratitude. I just—you weren’t the person I was expecting to answer my missive about my workers going missing. Baurendouin barely gave me anything to go off on besides them not showing up to work.” Chione said, a sigh leaving her as she rested her head against his shoulder. His smell was calming to her, his presence feeling like home to her, too. 

“The bounty price is 400k in gil. Thank you for lending me your help. If you’d like, I can come with you, so you don’t freeze to death.” She said quietly, a slight giggle leaving her lips. “Cause we all know how much you hate the cold.” 

“You didn’t answer me, is me being here worth that mental stress to you?” Silas asked feeling her warm hand take his. His hand moved instinctively and his fingers were soon wrapped around hers. 

Silas gently lifted her arm and placed her hand against his cold cheek before softly kissing it and moving his lips down to her wrist. His free hand wrapped around her waist loosely while he gazed down at her. He couldn’t help but think of how much shorter she was than him. When they first started to hang out he’d rest his arm on the top of her head before wrapping it over her shoulders. 

“I didn’t cheat on you Chione, my kitten. Not once. Not ever. It was a stupid game.” His brows furrowed as he closed his eyes. Muttering the same words of it only being a game. “I agreed to set her up with the boys. Make her trust me, make her… fall for me, before I blindsided her and my friends with our relationship.” Silas whispered kissing her wrist again with his cold lips. 

Finally, Silas opened his eyes and he looked down at her again. Her tone was light but serious as she explained what Baurendouin said about the missing men. While holding her in that position he wondered who the men were and why they hadn’t come out to work. Even wondering if they had too much to drink and didn’t show up the next day because of a hangover. But a hangover wouldn’t last for days. 

Silas chuckled lightly putting her hand just over his heart. “I don’t need the gil, use it for the families, they’ll need it more than I ever would. Besides my father left me a hefty sum to leave until I got my ass screwed on right. His words, not mine.” The comment about him hating the cold was true. He used to argue with his mother when he had to come home to see his father.

Sometimes he’d take it out on Chione if she was nearby. But during that one Starlight Celebration, she was his warmth and he stuck to her like glue. At least one part of him was touching her at all times. Silas shook his head, his top teeth biting softly at his bottom lip while a soft chuckle escaped him again. “Are you going to keep me warm at night? Sliding into my bedroll, huddling close to me by the fire?”

Listening to him talk, she couldn’t help but sigh when the part about the girl who hated her came up again. Realization hit her hard when Silas spoke about the messed-up game he started with his friends. 

“If you didn’t cheat on me, then why did everyone tell me you did, Silas?” she questioned him, lightly gripping his shirt, still feeling the lingering touches of his lips against her skin. “Why did you do that to the girl? She didn't deserve that just because she didn’t like me.” Chione was blindsided when Silas said that. She paused as he continued to speak, telling her about his father, the man who used to watch them grow up together while spending days away from Sharlayan. Looking up at him, she sighed, a slight smirk tugging at her lips as he teased her again. 

“I doubt you’ll deny me, anyway, Si-Si. You’d kill to have me that close to you again. Besides, it’s been a while since you last had a competition with me to see who was the better swordsman.” She teased him as she let go of his shirt to go sit by the fireplace. Sitting down on the soft white carpet, she stared into the flames as they danced their erotic dance for her. 

“It’s killing me that all the memories of us came flooding back the minute I heard your voice again, but I need to focus on House Eirwen and the factories I manage. I need to focus on finding those poor workers who disappeared. I’ll need to talk with Baurendouin again and have him give me the emergency link pearls of the people who are missing… Can I rely on your blade again, Silas?” Chione asked as she lifted her head to look at him from across her bedroom.

“Chione,” Silas said her name in a more serious tone. “Didn’t my father send word that I’ve been disowned?” In truth, Silas wasn’t sure if that was public knowledge. His mother hardly said anything to him when it came to his father. And in return, he didn’t ask. Neither did he ask about the affairs of the house, nor its occupants. When she gripped his shirt lightly he glanced down at the way her fingers curled around the fabric for a moment before turning his attention back to her. 

“The day after… after our fight, I was told to leave. As for that girl, she deserved far worse than what I was planning on doing with her. She’d of course done a lot worse things to you if I hadn’t intervened. Not only did I threaten her, I threatened her family too.” Silas sighed letting go of her hand to rub his face. He didn’t think he’d have to explain his past actions, yet here he was. Trying to justify and explain them to her. 

Si-Si. Now that was a name he hadn’t heard in so long. There were at least a handful of people that he spoke to regularly who didn’t know him by the moniker, Hex. So when she said her old nickname for him, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling gently and following after her in front of the fireplace. Silas removed his leather jacket, exposing a form-fitted black turtleneck with a silver chain. 

He sat down beside her, dropping his jacket at his side and softly extended his fingers out to the flame. Both of his arms are on each side of his knees. “I would,” Silas whispered. His tone, was low and soft as he spoke. “Kill… I mean. If that’s what it took for us to start over again, I’d do it.”

“By the twelve…” He whispered again, this time dropping his head between his knees. “This is why I’ve avoided you for over a decade, I knew just being near you, I’d melt.” Silas chuckled lightly and lifted his head. While Chione spoke, Silas turned to look over at her. The flames of the fire cast shadows on her face as she spoke. Her blue eyes filled with emotion as she spoke about her people, and how she had to focus on her house. 

He knew what that meant. There was no room for him in her life, at least not at that moment. “This Baurendouin, would he have a file of the people missing? Address, family? That sort of thing.” Silas distracted himself from what she’d just said, but he nodded slowly. A low self-deprecating laugh escaped him soon after, “You may. I’ll help you, I already answered your missive, did I not?”

Chione smiled at him and reached for his slender hand. She scaled his frame with intent and interest.

“No, no one told us anything about you being disowned and disappearing. We haven’t heard anything from the Kane family since we called off our relationship. After that, I’ve just been focusing on business with my manufactory and discussing business for trading with my cousin, Vahalia Cress. I run Eirwen Steel and Stone now in my father's stead since he’s a Temple Knight under Lord Commander Aymeric.” Chione said, reaching to touch Silas’s hand softly.

“And now, knowing that you were disowned by your father,” she pauses, sighing and lowering her head in sadness. “It’s hard to even continue speaking with them.” Chione finishes, tightening her grip slightly on his hand and scooting her small frame over to him, leaning her head against his shoulder, a heavy breath escaping her nostrils, feeling exasperated from the events of her evening. 

“Well, difficult for me anyway, to speak to your parents.” 

“Where are you staying? I can have you stay here with me if you’d like, and we can go over a plan for tomorrow morning since I have to go to the factory and do my daily check-ups for my foremen.” She whispered as she stared at the flames, slightly embarrassed that she had opened her door to him. The blonde-haired woman couldn’t deny the feelings she had for him still. They were the complete opposite of each other but also felt equal—one. 

“Then we’ll be able to speak with Baurendouin. If the daft man shows his face.” Chione scolds in jest.

Silas looked towards her with a surprised expression. From what his mother said, it’s been announced that he was removed from society and disowned. Or at least some variation of that. A wave of confusion went through him as he wondered what his father was thinking. His fingers drummed lightly against his knee as he was lost in thought but made sure to listen to her. 

Vahalia, that name was familiar to him. She was part of the Cress family and a cousin to Chione. He’d only seen her a handful of times as their friends never collided with one another so he truthfully didn’t know much about her other than the few times he’d seen her. “It appears I’ve been away for too long if you’re the one running the Eirwen Steel and Stone now.” He laughed lightly shaking his head. 

“You know how the old farts in this part of the world are.” Silas laughed. “You do something wrong and you’re quickly dismissed. Now if I were half the man they thought I’d be, then that would be a different story. But I am not.” He smiled looking into the dancing flames. 

His body slowly began to warm up by the time Chione asked where he was spending the night. “Ahh, truthfully I was planning on leaving through the aetheryte and deal with the sickness afterwards before returning. I hardly have the supplies and clothing needed to weather the cold.” 

Silas leaned his head towards her as she rested her head on his shoulder. “If that’s your way of asking me to stay kitten I will. Are you offering your bed to me, or are you going to make me stay in the guest quarters?” He reached over to take her chin, but this time more gently as he tilted her head up. 

Silas stalling as he wondered if kissing her would be too much, but he leaned forward leaving just barely enough room between them. Her breath tasted like the wine she’d just drank and he wondered what the rest of her tasted, especially after all this time. “Slap or hit me if I’m being too forward.” His tone low and soft. 

Chione’s face flushed in embarrassment, but she nodded in agreement about the older Elezen in charge, feeling his fingers delicately take her chin. Their eyes met. The tension between the two was undeniable, and it felt like they started where they left off, minus Silas tormenting her. 

“I–I think it might be too early for that, Silas…” she stuttered; feeling like the cliche school girl all over again. Her heart was about to burst. If it beat any harder and louder the man before her was bound to hear it himself. 

“But I won’t strike you for it, that’s just silly.” Chione finished as she tried to clear her throat and pull away, but found herself still staring. His red orbs captivated her. Her toes becoming a little too warm as they sat by the fire in her room. Enjoying his presence was something she was always catching herself liking. The blonde woman snickered to herself as his question finally hit her. 

“I’d only offer my couch in my room to you for right now. You have to earn my affections before you jump into my bed, sir.” she jested as she nudged him slightly, finally able to pull her eyes from his. Sighing, the blonde-haired woman stretched her arms above her head, the sleeves of her robe riding up her biceps, showing slight muscle in her slender frame, and yawned. Fixing her lounge pants and tank top, she shivered slightly. 

“I can’t believe you pulled the same shit you did when we were kids. Climbing the wall like an Opo-Opo. What is up with that?” Chione laughed as she watched him, sensing the wheels in his head turning.

Silas groaned slightly and used his now free hand to cup the side of his face. “You are… something.” He muttered wanting to torment her further. So he did, he gently pushed her down into the plush carpet and wiggled himself in between her legs while his arm rested beside her head. 

“Will you strike me now?” Silas asked lightly trailing his finger on her exposed thigh. He leaned down and gently left a wake of kisses on her collarbone, neck and jaw before pulling away. Waves of desire nearly took over when he remembered that this wasn’t what he wanted either. This time he wanted to do something right and so he pulled himself off her and just knelt there, still in between her legs. 

“Perhaps an inn would be safest.” Silas chuckled lifting her back up to sit. “I can always climb back down like an Opo-Opo.” He laughed again, this time with her while she got up to get herself ready for bed. “Or… the sofa can work too.” A soft groan left him while he laid on top of the carpet, his eyes fixated on the ceiling above. 

“So tomorrow, we’ll head over to the factory then?” Silas inquired, wanting to follow up on what she said before. 

Chione gasped lightly as the tall male worked his way in between her legs, his question ringing in her ears as he peppered her chest, neck, and jaw with soft wet kisses. Her mind was so fuzzy from his touch before he stopped and pulled away. Champagne-colored hair plummed behind her head as she opened her eyes, unbeknownst to her that she had closed them the second he closed the gap between their bodies. Her feelings being pulled in every direction. Looking up at him, her blue orbs searching his crimson ones for any inkling of his actions. Chione knew better than to make a man kiss and tell, knowing that wasn’t how most men operated. 

“No, I will not hit you, you masochist,” Chione laughed as she took his hands to help her sit back up straight. “But yes, if things did go from there, an inn would be our best bet until I bought my own land.” 

Standing on her feet as Silas rolled onto his back, to stare at the ceiling, Chione walked to her bathroom as he jested with her about being called a small lemur. She stepped into her bathroom and wet her toothbrush as the silvery-haired Elezen asked her a question regarding their day tomorrow.

“Yes, I need to check on my Foremen and how things are running while short-staffed. Baurendouin better be there tomorrow, or I’ll blow a fuse.” She called, toothpaste slathered everywhere as she cleaned her teeth. With a hefty spit, she spat the remaining toothpaste into the washbasin as she rinsed the bristles of the toothbrush under the cool water before leaning down and gathering some of the liquid in her mouth to swish around and remove any loose gunk she might’ve missed. Reaching for her brush, she began to gently brush her hair as she walked to the threshold of her bathroom door, watching the man lay on her carpet, the steady rise and fall of his chest calming her. Thoughts ravaged her mind about what her parents might think, seeing Silas come back into the picture. Coming home. Chione’s father adored Silas and always viewed him as the “son he never had.” A soft simple smile tugged at the corners of her nude lips, the light tugging of knots not phasing her. As she finished she looked back at Silas, her eyebrow raised slightly. A low chuckle left her and she walked to her bed that sat in the corner of her spacious room. Pulling the blankets back; she readied herself for bed. Pulling a pillow and a heavy blanket off her bed, she placed them on the couch. 

“Here you go, if you need clothes I can call for Belmont?” Chione said as she sat down on her bed.

While Chione got herself ready for bed, Silas’ mind reeled on the fact he had nearly had his way with her. Both of his hands lifted as he pressed both palms against his face, trying to think of anything disgusting to stop his lower half from rising any higher. When the splashes of water came from the bathroom, he peeked through his fingers and watched as the curls from her head draped over her shoulders. Again, he was thinking of how soft her skin felt against his lips and he quickly covered his eyes again. 

Old, wrinkley, nuns… old, wrinkley nuns… nuns… Chione in a nun dress… Chione in a sexy… nun dress. No! Twelves above strike me now. Old wrinkley nuns! Old wrinkley stinky nuns! Silas chanted in his mind until he heard the water stop. 

Everything she’s said was lost to him and his mind as he propped himself up on his elbows. For once he felt relieved that she couldn’t see the flush on his cheeks. “I don’t need any, unless you’d feel more comfortable I’m clothed from head to toe after, well…” Silas chuckled sitting himself up to hide what was going on in his pants. 

He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it from his shoulders exposing his upper frame. There were multiple scars from his life out in the open world. Stories he’d likely have to tell her sometime if she ever asked about them. While she brought over the pillow and blanket, he at least calmed down enough that he could stand and unbutton his pants but stopped before looking at her.

“Think I can wear just my underclothes for bed, kitten? Or would you be more comfortable if I wore pants?” He asked, wondering what she'd be most comfortable with.

Chione watched him as he began to remove his articles of clothing. Exposing his torso to her, she saw the multitude of scars on his skin. Knowing better than to reopen old wounds, she’d badger him about those stories in the future, knowing full well it would take a miracle now for him to disappear from her life. 

“No, I don’t mind if you sleep in your underwear,” She spoke softly, her heart skipping a beat at her old nickname. Kitten. It made her feel cherished in a way. Loved. But Chione had different priorities now than a school crush… Or did she?  She tried to deny any and all feelings for that boy since he bullied her throughout their lives together. But that Starlight Celebration that they shared together all those years ago still clouded her mind every time she caught herself staring off into the aether. Chione shielded her eyes to give him privacy and he finished removing his clothes and lied down on the couch. The soft fleece quilt covering him. Remembering she still had her articles of clothing on she stood and turned her back to him, giving herself the little privacy she could. The sheer midnight blue robe gently slid off her back, hanging it on the hook by her bed. She wore shorts that were black and a lighter Dragoon-ish blue-colored tanktop. With nimble fingers, she pulled her champagne-colored hair into a messy bun atop her head before sliding into the sheets of her bed, covering her petite body. 

“Goodnight, Si-Si… I’ll see you in the morning,” Chione whispered as the two drifted off to sleep.

@vahalia-cress @hex-xiv

[knightinkosherarmour]

Technoarcheologist and Inquisitor

Aboard the Ark Mechanicus Deimos’s Cog the living quarters of the current head of the First Deimos Explorator Fleet was not which one would expect out of the living quarters of a tech priest. By and large the quarters are separated into two different sections, one of them was exactly what you would expect machines and incense and work tables and private spaces for veneration stretched out for hundreds of square meters, it was a private site of innovation and as well held a small meeting space where senior tech priests of the fleets synod or Skitarii Marshals could meet personally with Fabricator Minoris Technoarcheologist Magos Domina Aleph-Gimmel Bellerov-2.0. there was even space enough for the head of the accompanying chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, Artificer Siderénia Teleiótita, to sit comfortably. Accompanying Admiral Ezekiel Bendavid of an Imperial flotilla similarly had a designated if auster chair.

The other half however of Aleph-Gimmel’s private quarters seem to be something straight out of the second millennia in Old Earth. Still covered in icons of the Machine God this section of rooms seemed almost comfortable. At Great expense it had been covered in wood paneling, as well as seats made with cushions for both baseline humans and rather augmented tech priests to be able to longue. Aleph-Gimmel also personally oversaw the construction of a kitchen and accompanying amsec cellar room as well as room for dining. Strangest of all rooms in an almost a mirror to the rest station on the other half of these quarters where she could simply plug in and rejuvenate there was a classic four-poster terran bed and private study.

Aleph-Gimmel only let a select few into that last space. She had learned the importance of being able to cater both to her own tastes and guests while serving as a diplomat for her fleet.

Today however was a much more informal situation. However it was just as important, if not more.

Aleph-Gimmel sat at the head of the dining table. Her chair was specially crafted in order to accommodate her panoply of augmentations and exploratory machines attached to her back and wired into her head. She had retained the use of her digestive system exclusively for nights like this, otherwise it was possible for her to gain nutrients the same way as many tech priests, through intravenous methods.

As she waited, she looked down at her glass of Squire’s Rest Amsec. She was running through the calculations in her head for the first time this person meeting her in this room would be thrown off take priests normally did not keep such quarters however that may not last the entire night. This was going to be a meeting not formally not between the leaders of any such organizations supposedly between friends. If she could be said to have such. The viscosity of the amsec was 0.2, well with acceptable parameters. Her emotional regulator let her know that neurotransmitters flagging the feeling of emotion of anxiety were being generated. She flagged them for destruction.

Another alert buzzed through her noospheric sensors that the doors to this room were being opened.

The figure that emerged into the room was wearing black armor, as well as standard imperial uniform that was issued usually to its officers of the highest order. Her skin was dark and beautiful. It was marred only by an ocular implant and scarring around it. Most glaring however was a chain around the figure's neck.

An Inquisitorial rosette in gleaming gold and silver hung from it.

Her grey eyes looked down at Aleph-Gimmel and the matching set of plates at the tail end of the table and decanter ready to be poured. “Fabricator Minoris Technoarcheologist Magos Domina Aleph-Gimmel Bellerov-2.0.”

With that she stood up and gave a small bow. “Inquisitor Seraph Seraphdottior, please take your seat. I have arranged for this dinner for you.” The magi’s voice though organic was carefully modulated. Ste similarly kept a small non threatening smile upon the her face. If she were to leave this meeting alive it would take every ounce of her expertise.

Sera looked around the room covered in itchings of cogwheels and skulls on the wood. She then pulled out the seat and sat in it. “You've made quite the renovations since Omega… what did you tell the Greater Deimosian Synod? She died in battle?”

The artificial vox box that Aleph-Gimmel had installed in herself played out a recording of the message sent out. “As a result of the battle that has taken place on Erophant III, Fabricator Minoris Magos Domina Omega Bellerov-1.0 has died and the Fleet Synod of Deimos’s First Fleet has elected to select myself, Fabricator Minoris Technoarcheologist Magos Domina Aleph-Gimmel Bellerov-2.0 to be her successor in leading the fleet amongst the mysteries of the Omnissiah. Erophant III has been liberated.” A moment passed and then once more with her organic voice, “The first course is coming! I do hope you enjoy these Ultramarian cheeses, Inquisitor, they were selected at great expense.”

A pair of servitors walked into the room, each carrying platters. They had implants that made them seem like they had been specially designed for serving dinners. Sera’s icy eyes seemed to take note of them before the platter was placed between the two in the table. Aleph-Gimmel reached out with her unaugmented hand to grab some of the food. Her hand though unaugmented was still covered in jet black mechanistic tattoos.

After a period of silence The Inquisitor once more broke it. “Do you understand why I'm here, Magos?” Sera, even as the tech priest was eating happily and taking the occasional sip of fine amsec, have not touched a single plate and was instead standing still and grim as a statue in an ecclesiarchical nave.

“For dinner?” It was halfway between a joke and a sarcastic common calculated just well enough to make The Inquisitor smile or even laugh perhaps this would put her at ease.

It did not.

Sera Seraphdottior picked up the knife set beside her for later in the meal. “I am well aware of the corruption that ran through your fleet. And I'm here to ensure that it has been purged and removed. Omega Bellerov-1.0’s taint by Khorne it's not as secret as you made it out to be. I will be allowed full inspection of your facilities I tell you only now Magos, as a favor due to our previous engagements. I will be beginning with your Metallica Class Factoryships”

Aleph-Gimmel remembered well the time that she'd run across the Inquisitor before and a happily aided her with whatever was needed. “I can assure you that any sympathizers or others corrupted were swiftly launched into the Erophant System’s star.” To continue nibbling on a piece of cheese as she spoke. The next course was due to begin both of their plates, one well used one utterly empty, removed and replaced with another set of fine China similarly emblazoned with the symbols of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

“You are indeed credit to Deimos and Mars Aleph, however,” she looked around the room. “Keep your eccentricities in line. I would hate for them to develop down a similarly destructive path. You already have an abnormal taste for luxury.”

“I can assure you that my devotion to the Omnissiah, The Emperor On Earth, The Motive Force, and Machine God is total and utter.” It came out far angrier and stronger than she had intended but Aleph-Gimmel would not take such accusations lying down. She was the leader of a Synod for the Emperor's sake!

“Good.” The rest of the dinner concluded in silence neither wishing to speak more.

Inquisitor Sera Seraphdottior left, and her ship detached itself from Deimos’s Cog.

Aleph-Gimmel slumped down the back of her chair. She sent out a summons to trustworthy Skitarii Marshall, there was much to be done.

[unculturedmamoswine]

Forduary 2024 Week 2, College and Researcher Years

Woo, my second Forduary fill for this year! Ford gets some bad news and feels some type of way about it. This fic is Ford/Fiddleford/Emma-May. Also, warning for offscreen minor character death.

The first person Ford told was his boss. He felt pretty alright about it. Almost normal. It wasn’t that real to him yet, he explained, so it was probably fine if he worked his shift. (He shouldn’t be telling Pat first, he thought. It was a big deal, right? So he should have told someone else first, someone who mattered more to him.)

He stood in the shabby but quite clean lobby of the old movie theater and explained his older brother to Pat.

“I don’t know why I brought it up,” Ford added, gesticulating more vigorously than usual. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have. I just found out, but I had to work so I came here. You know that.” He snatched his hands back, clenching his fists. 

He felt oddly ashamed, as if he was overreacting, but he wasn’t. He was barely reacting at all. He was fine.

Pat’s mouth sagged open oddly. His flat brows crinkled up. “Oh, that’s god-awful, Stanford I’m so sorry. How old was he?” “Why does that matter?” Ford asked, confused.

Pat, as people loved to do, interpreted his direct and simple question to instead mean something Ford hadn’t actually said. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter at all, right? He was too young either way.” 

Either what way? Either was a word you only used when presenting two options. What two options was Pat imagining? That Shermie either had or had not been a specific age?

For some reason Pat touched Ford, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. Ford had worked at this movie theater for his entire college career so far, and Pat had never touched him before. Maybe he was making a pass. Maybe he knew that Ford was a queer now, that he was some kind of weirdo with a girlfriend and a boyfriend. (Shermie would never know, now, never find out. Ford would never have to wonder if he’d be renounced by his cool, distant older brother.)

“You shouldn’t work right now, kid.” Pat always called him kid. Him, and anyone who was either under the age of forty or who worked for him. Ford was ‘kid’. Emma-May was ‘kid’. Even Eustace, who was around Pat’s age, was ‘kid’.

“Sherman always called us kid,” Ford reported, as if the part of his brain that worked his mouth was determined to make Pat think that he was entirely unfit to work. “Me and my brother. I mean, my other brother, the one who’s not dead. As far as I know.” As his humiliation mounted, a nervous grin broke out across Ford’s face. Pat took his other shoulder. He looked kind of creeped out, and also quite sad.

“Stanford, go sit in the office. I’ll call Emma-May for you, okay?”

Ford did as he was told and sat in Pat’s shitty little windowless office for a good thirty seconds, then sprang up and paced as well as he could around the small space. The only thing he’d ever liked about the office was the row of velvet chairs that lined one short wall. Three chairs, all bolted together. They had come out of the theater during a renovation. Ford crouched by them and ran his finger over the worn velvet of a seat cushion, dragging a track into the surface and smoothing it away again and again.

By the time Emma-May got there, Ford was sitting in the chair. He didn’t want to be, but it had occurred to him that finding him crouched on the floor stroking a chair would alarm Emmy and make her think he was more upset than he was.

“Hey, Ford.” She was standing in the doorway, holding her bag. Fiddleford was just behind her. He should have been in class. Ford couldn’t think how he’d come to be there. 

Fiddleford’s eyes were huge and concerned. Emmy’s hands were tight on the strap of her bag.

They looked at him, and he stood up for lack of anything better to do. “Hi,” he said. It was less a response to Em, and more a place to start from. He had to say something. Ford wondered if they even knew what had happened. “My brother…” he didn’t know how to say it, which was stupid. He was in Vietnam. Now he’s nowhere. Just say that.

Emmy and Fidds stayed back as if afraid to touch him, but gentle Southern words of condolence came tumbling out of both their mouths. Ford bobbed his head agreeably and followed them out of Pat’s office. Pat was standing there with his hands on his hips. 

“Go back to school, Ford.” Pat said. “You can’t work like this.” Ford looked at Emmy. She wasn’t dressed for work. “Who’s taking my shift?” After he said the words, he realized that he should have instead argued that he could work. He didn’t want to go back to his dorm and do nothing, just sit there on his bed.

“It’s slow. All the movies coming out these days are piping hot buckets of piss anyway,” Pat said. (This was a joke. Pat loved to say that he, like everyone who loved movies, hated movies.) “I can do it all tonight. Heck, take the rest of the week, too; Eustace wants more hours, so don’t worry about it, kid.” Ford couldn’t afford not to work for the whole week, but the way that knowledge connected to the words needed to express it seemed fuzzy. He couldn’t quite imagine getting the words out from wherever they were hiding and putting them out into the air for Pat to hear. It was like he was a long way away from the conversation he was ostensibly a part of.

While Ford tried to sort out his mind, Emma-May and Fiddleford and Pat muttered around him, their words dark and fleeting, fluttering around Ford’s head without seeming to make it into his ears.

“Hey, buddy.” Fiddleford put his hands in his overall pockets and kicked gently at Ford’s shoe. “Let’s get outta here, okay? Emmy and me’ll take you back to our room. Or we could go for a walk, or invent some kinda doohickey or…” he trailed off helplessly. Hunched his shoulders and tapped his foot. Trying to figure out how to act in this situation, with Ford completely useless before him, was obviously a significant stressor for Fiddleford. Ford could sympathize.

“Come on, boys. Let’s get out of here. Thanks a bunch, Pat,” Emma-May gave Pat a closemouthed smile.

“Take care, you three.” Ford heard Pat heave an immense sigh as they left.

-

Fiddleford and Emma-May clustered around him on the sidewalk immediately outside the theater. The sky was gray. Brittle maple leaves fluttered past and wet ones clogged the gutter. Ford stared down at them.

“When did you eat last, Ford?” Emma-May asked. He wondered if she and Fiddleford would think he was avoiding looking at them. He wasn’t. It just felt nice to stare at the pile of leaves. It seemed like it would be hard to look up.

“I had lunch.” It felt good to give a good answer that he knew they would approve of.

“So then let’s go back to ours, huh? Someplace outta this wind.” Fiddleford’s voice was gratingly gentle. He made little flapping gestures with his hands as if trying to startle birds into flight.

Ford had thought to work his entire shift. He had thought that it would be 1) doable and 2) possibly a relief, that it would be nice to have something to do, a set of tasks to complete and limited, set interactions with strangers and coworkers. He felt he ought to be annoyed by Fiddleford and Emma-May’s presence and their making his decisions for him, but the opposite was true. It was an unexpected relief to have them there to decide where to go and what to do. 

On the walk back to campus Emmy took his hand, squeezing gently. It would have elated him under other circumstances, to hold her hand in public. Now he was just grateful to have a point of contact with anyone or anything.

At an intersection, when Ford nearly walked distractedly into traffic, Fiddleford rested a hand on his shoulder, only letting go when the signal changed, pushing gently to get Ford to take a step.

He thought about Shermie’s wedding. He’d been ten. Stan had been talking about his own future wife, who would be a babe, a real knockout. Shermie had rolled his eyes and told them both that what you really should look for in a wife was a woman you could stand to be around all the time.

“Someone you can trust, and who doesn’t drive you fucking crazy,” Shermie had said. “That’s what makes a keeper.” He’d flicked his match away and taken a drag on his cigarette. He’d seemed so grown-up, an unachievable exemplar of adulthood. Ford and Stanley had hung on his every word.

They hadn’t seen a lot of him after that, some years only at Passover. He had the good sense to move a long drive away from their parents’ house, and he was busy with work and fathering his kids, and then he was gone. And now, Ford was bumping along between two people who thought he was an only child up until an hour ago, and who must have been sure he truly was one now.

“– can finagle us a rudimentary sorta phase modulator if I put my mind to it,” Fiddleford was saying. Ford realized that they had almost made it, well, home for lack of a better word. “Don’t think I ain’t seen the look you get in your eye when you talk about all those physics classes you can’t fit in your schedule,” Fiddleford went on. Ford looked at him. Fiddleford smiled back, a strained and unpleasant expression that Ford didn’t want to see. He looked back at his feet.

“Anyhow,” Fiddleford went on haltingly. “I bet even if you can’t work those classes in, we can get a little independent study done, don’t even worry about that, okay?” Fiddleford shifted closer to Ford as a few other students passed down the narrow concrete strip that kept them all out of the thick campus mud.

At the entrance to their dorm hall, Ford summoned up the wherewithal to hand over his keys to Fiddleford. He glanced up at the feeling of rain beginning to spatter against his cheek. Then he looked around himself, frowning. “Where’s Emma-May?” he asked.

Fiddleford glanced at him sharply, then quickly smoothed over his expression. “Liquor store,” he said shortly.

“I didn’t hear,” mumbled Ford unnecessarily.

“Yeah,” Fiddleford said. “Don’t sweat it, Stanford.” He put his hand lightly between Ford’s shoulder blades to usher him into the building. He was being quite a bit more physical than usual. Ford wondered if it was subconscious or an intentional choice made in an attempt to make Ford feel better. It sort of worked, but also highlighted just how bizarre and completely unreal this entire day felt.

Back in their room, Ford and Fiddleford stood between their beds silently. Ford stared at his desk, while Fiddleford stared at him. He wished they still had somewhere to walk, or do, really any small task to accomplish.

“Emmy only went to Marv’s,” Fiddleford said finally. “She won’t be too long.” “Maybe you two should– or I should– I could go somewhere else tonight.” This was the wrong thing to say, but he was saying it anyway, apparently. “I’m not going to be…” Ford coughed out a laugh, hands moving restlessly through the air. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing,” he said, trying for a self-effacing smile. He felt like he was doing a bad impersonation of himself. It was all wrong, he couldn’t say anything that he meant to, not really.

“You really shouldn’t be alone right now, I reckon,” Fiddleford said, scratching vigorously at the back of his neck. “And I’m. Jeez. I’m just really sorry about your brother, Ford.” His face flushed and he screwed up one eye in a half wince that was so quintessentially Fiddleford, even as Ford felt so unlike Stanford. At least one of them could still play their part.

“I haven’t seen him in a long time,” Ford reported numbly, as if that could possibly be an adequate response.

Fiddleford bit his lip. What Fiddleford must be thinking hit Ford all of a sudden, hard and fast like a sucker punch: now I never will. I’ll never see him again. Ford’s breath caught, and for a second he wondered if he was going to completely fall apart.

“I–” Ford clenched his fists. He wanted to turn away from Fiddleford but it would be too obvious what he was doing. He could handle this. He could master himself, he could.

“Honey,” Fiddleford said, stepping closer to him. Fidds had never called him that before. Everything between him and Fidds and Emma-May was still too new. It was all too much. Why had Sherman had to be killed right when he was embarking on some completely crazy attempt at dating two people at once? Ford barked out a laugh, incredulous and completely inappropriate.

Fiddleford’s face crumpled. He reached out a hand, resting it on Ford’s shoulder in a way that was somehow completely incompatible with heterosexuality. (And Ford could be sure of that. He’d made an informal study of which actions, gestures, and mannerisms could be plausibly passed off as normal for all of his life.) He leaned marginally into Fiddleford’s hand. It was the way it cupped his shoulder, Ford thought. A couple of months ago, if Fiddleford were to put his hand on Ford’s shoulder like this, it would be a harder grip, not this half-caress. Yes. Yes, that was it.

“Hey.” Fiddleford put his free hand on Ford’s neck. His sweetly concerned expression was now just inches from Ford’s face. He kissed Ford then, a fleeting thing that probably shouldn’t have surprised him. “You in there? You’re freakin’ me out a little, I don’t mind telling you.”

Fiddleford’s hand started to lift from Ford’s neck. Ford grasped it, knowing Fiddleford wouldn’t judge him for wanting to maintain that point of contact. “I’m going to be fine,” he told Fiddleford, who nodded with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. Of course you will. Why dont’cha sit down, though?”

Ford didn’t want to, but he thought that arguing over this would make him seem irrational, even if he was perfectly comfortable standing. So he sat on his bed and kicked his shoes off. He even leaned back against the wall casually, the picture of a person reacting normally to a stressful situation, he thought.

He didn’t have to think of anything to say: there was the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall, then Emmy walked through the door, kicking it shut behind her. She wasn’t supposed to be in here, of course, but she had Fiddleford’s key. Also, almost nobody at Backupsmore gave much of a shit about anything that went on here, Ford had found.

Fiddleford turned to Emmy to take her bags and they exchanged a look before Emma-May’s gaze turned to Ford.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” Ford said back.

“Got us some supplies,” she said, rummaging through one of her bags. It clinked. “Beer, chips. Apples in case we get a wild hair to be healthy. Don’t really know why Marv sells apples but there we are.” Emma-May pulled three beers out of the bag and popped the caps off one at a time on Ford’s iron bed frame.

Fiddleford and Emma-May settled on either side of him, legs sticking out across Ford’s bed just as his did. Emmy handed him a beer. Ford held it with both hands. He’d never drunk with Shermie. He couldn’t imagine Sherman would have had a problem with his underage drinking, but there was never a time when Sherman, winking conspiratorially, snuck him and Stanley a couple of beers after dinner.

Ford took a swig from his beer, and then another. The sooner he was in an altered state the better. Emma-May leaned her head against his. Fiddleford rested a hand on Ford’s thigh. It should all feel like too much, but it was just enough. He should talk to them, repay their kindness with some kind of reassurance or at least an acknowledgement that he wasn’t completely out to lunch.

“Tell us something about him,” said Emma-May. “Just one thing.”

“It won’t help,” Ford dismissed her. He peeled back the label on his beer, tugging it so that the lines of glue on the brown bottle were exposed.

“No. But g’head and tell us anyway, Fiddy and me are dying of boredom over here.” Ford and Fiddleford both snorted.

“You got a real way with words, Em.” Fiddleford took a swig to drown his snickering.

“He was a lot older,” Ford said, cutting through Emmy’s and Fiddleford’s raised spirits. “He would’ve been thirty in the spring.” Ford took a breath. It was hard, like a hand had gripped him by the throat. “I knew, intellectually, that he might not come back, but I didn’t…” He took another wheezing breath. “I didn’t believe it.” He pulled his knees up and pressed his forehead against them. He wanted to hide from Fiddleford and Emma-May, who kept shifting even closer, as if they thought they could possibly protect him from the fact that his family was (once again) never going to be the same.

Ford tilted his head back, eyes screwed shut so that he didn’t have to see Fiddleford’s sorrowful expression, or Emmy’s worry. He held his bottle to his mouth and gulped down his beer. “I need another one,” he said. The bottle in his hand disappeared and was replaced by Fiddleford’s already half-finished beer.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say,” Ford said thickly. Fiddleford sighed and clambered off the bed.

“Nothin’, if you don’t want. There’s time for that later, I reckon. Drink your beer.” There was a crack as Fidds opened another one.

“He’s right.” Emma-May wrapped her arms around Stanford and squeezed. “Let’s get drunk and maybe we’ll have us a little cry. Boys only like to cry when they drink.” She kissed Ford’s cheek, nudging his glasses off-center. Ford laughed unsteadily.

“Oh, yeah,” he choked out. “We love it.” He opened his bleary eyes and glanced between his… well, between Fidds and Emmy. “Just don’t let me embarrass myself or do anything too stupid.” He swigged Fiddleford’s beer.

Their responses overlapped: “When’ve I ever stopped you doin’ something stupid?” and “Whatever you do, we won’t tell.”

Ford didn’t have another smile in him, but he said, honestly, “Good to know you’re both there for me.”