#the side eye she sometimes gives Max and reporters makes me giggle

[fcb-mv33]

When some English reporter gets a little to close to your boy😭

[miraculouswolf99]

The Language of Flowers

I love Chloe Salt and while this is not the most action-packed of one-shots, I hope you all appreciate the effort that I did to research each and every meaning of the flowers.

*****

Lyon and Vallia Garden.

The first, a teen that would be described as having a heart of ice and a gaze that could freeze you solid. His twin sister, on the other hand, was pretty much said to be a flower garden made human with tree sap instead of blood.

Yet the two stuck to each other as if they were one of those pairs of conjoined twins. The two were opposites in personality, style, and even how they talk. But even then, they were as close as a brother and sister could be.

Nobody in Ms.Bustier's really had any idea about the two foreign students in their class. Of course, they knew that it was part of a program for students of different countries to experience other cultures. But it was almost like having two ghosts in class. They would come and go each day, silent as ever, and it was like they were never there at all.

There wasn't really much of a problem with them, especially since the first day they were there was pretty much the only time they had ever spoken. But they spoke only to give the class brat, Chloe, a good tongue lashing that they all thought she deserved when she tried to make the two as submissive to her as Sabrina. But since then, the two were so silent that most people that were not in the classroom thought that they were mute.

"They two of them are such a mystery," Nino says, a lot of the class hanging out in the classroom during a break since an akuma attack was recently stopped.

The twins were not in the room for reasons no one else knew.

"A mystery wrapped in an enigma and stuffed into a riddle," Alya added, the reporter in her really frustrated.

"They are not as bad as you guys think," Adrien tells them, a bit tired after his fight as Cat Noir.

"How can you be so sure," Alix crosses her arms. "They don't talk to anyone but each other and never in a language we understand."

"I've seen Lyon at his archery practice sometimes when Kagami and I are at fencing," Adrien says. "He probably just has high expectations expected of him like Kagami and me."

"It is probably the same for Vallia, as well, then," Marinette agreed.

"They could, at least, make an effort with us," Kim said.

"My calculations say that there is a less than five percent chance that the two will speak with any of us," Max says.

"They need to learn their places," Chloe sneered. "Bowing at my feet."

"Why are you even here, Chloe," Alya put her hands on her hips. "Everything that ever comes out of your mouth is about as trashy as that dumpster akuma last week."

It had been a garbage man that was having a bad day. Apparently, his daughter was sick, his partner in the truck would not stop singing opera, and then one grosser bags he was trying to put in the truck ripped open. All that combined made him a prime target for Hawkmoth. Luckily, Ladybug, Cat Noir, White Wolf, and Beautifly managed to stop him from turning Paris into one giant landfill. Which, ironically, was his villain name. Landfill.

"My father will hear about..." Chloe tried.

"Shut up, Chloe," Marinette yelled. "Maybe the reason they don't talk to us is that they think we are all just as under your pathetic thumb as Sabrina."

"I'd rather be turned back into Timebreaker than be her minion," Alix stated.

"Adrikins, you going to let them talk to me like that," Chloe tried to whine.

For once, Adrien didn't even try to defend her. He turned away from her, shaking his head. To say that the young model was sick of her never-changing attitude would be the understatement of the century. He did a lot of thinking after the Despair Bear incident. Chloe would never change how she was. She has gotten away with it for too long to ever even want to change. She especially didn't change after being turned into Queen Wasp not too long ago.

"They've only been here for a little over two weeks," Marinette reminded them. "Maybe they just need more time to adjust."

"Having friends would help them adjust, girl," Alya put her hand on her best friend's shoulder.

"There is an 86.5 percent chance of them adjusting better with friends by their side," Max said, Markov floating by his head.

The class would have talked more, but they heard the sounds of two people chattering away in a foreign language coming toward the classroom. And since Lila was still MIA since her first day in class, that meant that it had to be the twins. Everyone quickly scrambled to get into their seats and not look like they had a class meeting without the entire class.

When Lyon and Vallia walked in, the silence that had fallen over the classroom seemed to be a lot worse than being caught in a class meeting. But the Greek twins simply walked to their seats in the back and sat down for class to start up again.

"Vríkate ta sostá louloúdia," Lyon whispered to his sister. Translated: Did you find the right flowers.

"Me píre lígo, allá to ékana," Vallia whispered back. Translated: Took me a while, but I did.

The two silently had smirks on their faces.

*****

The next day, the class was unbelievably shocked by what they saw when they walked into the classroom. There were bunches of flowers on all of their desks. A different flower was on each of them. No two desks had the same flower. Except that Ms.Bustier's desk seemed to have a flower bunch with one of each blossom in it.

"Geia," the Greek twins greeted them, standing at the front of the classroom.

Most of the class was too shocked by the flowers to notice that the two of them had actually talked to them.

"Was there some type of flower akuma and we didn't know about it," Alya looked disappointed that she might have missed an akuma attack for her blog.

"Pardon," Lyon crossed his arms.

The class suddenly realized that the twins were talking to them. The two of them were also each holding a few roses in their hands.

"Are you two actually talking to us," Alix asked.

"Eínai tóso dýskolo na eísai oraía," Lyon says to his sister. Translation: They make it so hard to be nice.

"Páre, aderfí," Vallia responded. Translation: Behave, brother.

"Class, sit down," Ms.Bustier instructed. "Lyon and Vallia have some things that they have collecting in order to share with us."

"Flowers," Max asked, confused.

"We basically grew up surrounded by nature," Vallia says. "Plants can be a language all on their own. You just have to know how to use them."

Lyon took a small sniff of the roses he was holding.

"Take roses, for example," he said. "They perfectly describe us. Roses are said to represent people that are quiet and traditional. Quite fitting for the two of us, isn't it."

The class all sat down in their respected seats. Adrien and Marinette were probably the most interested ones of the class, even if they were all curious. Except for Chloe, of course.

"We spent these last couple of weeks getting to know you guys from a distance," Vallia explained. "It is one of our family traditions to give flowers to someone when they enter the family. By marriage or birth."

"We decided to take that tradition and make a classroom version of it," Lyon says. "Each of you has been given flowers that match your personalities. It took us a while to find the right ones and get them here. Luckily, we have a very wide range of flora at our family sanctuary."

"You spent over two weeks getting us flowers," Alix raised her eyebrow.

"Can there really be a flower for each of us," Mylene wondered out loud.

"You have them all in front of you," Lyon looked a little annoyed.

Vallia did have to admit that she was a tab annoyed as well. While they did not know just how much nature meant to them as a part of their lives, the doubt was still annoying.

"We figured this would show that we are more than two foreigners that like to keep to themselves," Vallia says.

"Keep in mind that I still like to keep to myself most of the time," Lyon said, Vallia knowing how much her brother likes the quiet.

"So, what do these flowers mean," Adrien asks.

To his surprise, neither of the twins pulled out a list or anything that could help them remember all the information. They must really know their stuff.

"We can start with Mylene," Vallia says, the small girl blushing. "We gave her peony flowers. They represent those that are kind and also like small gestures."

Ivan was particularly shocked by that. He had only gotten together with Mylene because she read his song as a poem after his second time being akumatized as Stone Heart. She was not up for the big-time rock and roll version he wrote it as, and just liked it as a simple poem or soft song.

"Ivan's was simpler to find," Lyon said. "The carnation flower has always been used to describe down-to-earth people. Ones that are very grounded."

The other members of Kitty Section looked at Ivan, knowing how that was very true. Ivan had always been the first to calm down any fame that might go to their heads after the Captain Hardrock incident and their performance. Well, after Luka that is. Juleka's brother was basically a saint when it came to being cool, calm, and collected.

"We chose poppies for Alix," Vallia explained the red flowers in front of the skater. "The traits that they represent are those that are creative and bold."

That was definitely Alix to a "T." Her art was a mix of both since she did spraypaint street art. And her natural athletic abilities did make her do some pretty bold things.

"Max and Kim, I thought, were the easiest to match," Lyon said. "Max has the aster flower, which represents those that are smart and devoted. Kim has hydrangeas, for those that are athletic and team players."

The class was starting to see just how much the two had worked on their "project."

"I, personally, liked to say that I enjoyed finding flowers for Rose and Juleka," Vallia smiled. "Mostly because I am holding one of their names."

That got a giggle out of the pink-dressed blond and an eye roll from Lyon.

"Get on with it, Vallia," Lyon says. "We still have actual classes to attend, sister."

The class had to hide groans, especially since Bustier was in the room and they did not want to insult her by accident.

"Fine," Vallia sighed. "I thought that tulips matched Rose because they are for the bright and cheerful. Juleka's are also my personal favorite flower, the lily. They are for ones that are quiet but also inspirational to others."

Juleka tried to hide her face in her hands, knowing that she was blushing. Rose was over the moon, for herself and her best friend. If there was any flower that was spot on for anyone in the class, it would be the one that Rose got.

"Nathaniel and Adrien ended up having the flowers that tie as my favorite," Lyon admitted. "I chose the iris for Nathaniel because it is a flower for daydreamers and the imaginative. Orchids are Adrien's because they represent those that are sophisticated, refined, but have good hearts."

Both mentioned boys blushed. While Adrien did have more friends than Nath, both of them were naturally quiet and not used to such praise. Yes, Adrien is a model, but it be a miracle to hear any sort of praise from his father. And Nath was only just starting to come out of his shell thanks to Marinette.

"Sabrina was a tad bit more difficult to match," Vallia almost did not want to admit. "But when you learn about who she is, she is optimistic and also tends to be a morning person. Those are the traits of the daisy."

Sabrina was shocked, as were most of the class. As usual, Chloe didn't care. She had been sneering at the flowers in front of her since she had sat down. Sabrina was internally jumping up and down in excitement. No one had ever tried to get to know her, especially after she became friends with Chloe.

"Alya is a very modern person while Nino also very much in the tech universe, so they were also a little difficult to translate to our olden tradition," Lyon says. "But we did think that Alya best matched with the daffodil. It represents those that are very social and also love friends and family. Nino's flower is the sunflower, a blossom for the warm and those that tend to be very happy-go-lucky."

Both of those descriptions perfectly matched the two. Alya was probably the most social person in the entire school. She had to be to run Paris's most popular blog.

"I thought that Marinette's was very much telling about who she is," Vallia says, Marinette a little embarrassed. "The calla lily is for hardworking people, but also represents people that can be said to be quite rare as well."

Marinette was now bright red as she hid her face in her arms, Alya patting her back. But you could see the look on the blogger's face that she was enjoying someone telling Marinette how special she was. The girl was too humble for her own good.

"And last, Chloe," Lyon did not look happy about it being his turn to talk when it came time to tell the brat about her flower.

"Saving the best for last," the blond ruined the nice moment the twins had created. "About time you two start giving me the respect I deserve."

That was when Lyon got the most ice-cold look on his face that the class had ever seen. Rose even shivered a little bit, as if she was actually cold from the look he gave the brat.

Adrien remembered seeing him give that look only once more. It was last week when he was at a photoshoot after school. Lyon and Vallia had been in the same park as the shoot and had heard the photographer becoming rather aggressive with him. After a few words about acting like a model should and not a teenage boy, Lyon got in the photographer's face and gave him that very look. He had not said one word, but that look was enough to make the man weak in the knees. He had not spoken to Adrien again the entire shoot and a different photographer was assigned to him soon after that day.

"Alright, here is what your flower says about you," Lyon's voice could freeze the Atlantic. "The gardenia flower represents those that like living in a life of luxury. Those that like the lifestyle of the one percent..."

Chloe seemed to be happy with that, but Lyon almost smugly popped her bubble.

"Basically, it's the flower for spoiled brats that need to get taught the meaning of the word 'no," he finished.

[evera6234]

Gotham’s Salty WIP: Chapter II

CHAPTER I

RATING: T (Teen for cursing and stuff, this may change)

SUMMARY: 

Basically, the typical Daminette with a bit of lime and spice. Borderline crack fic bc i cant without humor. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng goes to Gotham whilst carrying three years worth of emotional baggage, what she does with it, we don't know. Does she lug it around? Probably. Does she kick it off a skyscraper? Not probable, but maybe. Does she use it to drop kick an unsuspecting liar. Most definitely.                ~~~> EDITED BY OLLIETHETURTLE ON AO3

Transferred from AO3. 

Lemme know if u wanna be tagged

   “Yeah, your signatures don’t line up…” says the man at the front desk. “You said your name was… Lila Rossi, right? I’m looking for a... Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

   “Present,” an amused Marinette announces.

   “No! There must have been a mistake. I personally talked to Brucie and his 4 sons, Jason Grayson, Tim Todd, Dick Drake and my precious Damibear!”

   “Yeah no. That 100% didn’t happen. 100%,” the somewhat peeved front desk attendant grins.

   “How dare you talk to Lila like that! What’s your name? Give me your manager's number!” Alya fumes in a french accent (A/N: total karen moment intentionally placed). 

   “My name is Andrew Winston, and my supervisor….”

   “Hey Andrew, what’s poppin!” says a voice. After observation one could say that said voice comes from a tall muscular man, with a white streak in his hair, wearing a leather jacket.

   “My blood vessels, Jason. My blood vessels. Why are you here? You weren’t supposed to be here today.”

    “Yeah, Dick broke his arm yesterday at home. He fell down the stairs. And since I am such an amazing brother, I decided that I would fill in for him today!”

   “You were forced,” concludes Andrew as he scratches out Lila’s name off the previously mentioned thicc stack of papers with a black marker. 

   “Yup.”

   “This is the class you are supposed to caddy around WE. And they seem to be a bit peeved right now.”

   Jason sighs, “Ok. what’s the issue…”

   “They are saying that Lila Rossi, here” Andrew points to Lila, then looks down at his notes “says she spoke to a Brucie, a Jason Grayson, a Tim Todd, a Dick Drake and her precious Damibear to set up this field trip. My info here says that a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng set this trip up but they don’t believe me.” Andrew nonchalantly continues “Speaking of which, Marinette please sign on all the starred lines. Lila and her friend already filled out everything else.”

   “Tim Todd!” Jason chokes. 

¬`

   The tour had slowed down in the corridors of Wayne Enterprises as Jason let the students go on a quick bathroom and water break. Lila had left for the bathroom, and it is safe to say that Marinette learnt her lesson to avoid bathroom confrontations with Lila. They were never fun, and right now she doesn’t think she can handle a wet shirt in winter. 

   “Really, Marinette. You take credit for all of Lila’s hard work,” says Kim passing by.

   “Do you have any idea how hard Lila worked on this, and you know she hardly has any time to spare.” Max pitches in. 

   “Yeah. Lila worked so fucking hard concocting the names Jason Grayson, Tim Todd and Dick Drake. Sounds like the revamped cast to The Three Stooges,” Chloe crackles giggling.

   “I sure wonder how Tim Todd and Jason Grayson are today? Are they well?” Marinette questions sarcastically.

   “Absolutely fucking amazing after hearing that!” Jason wheezes, overhearing the conversation. Jason gave Marinette a knowing look that confirmed an earlier inference. This Jason was Jason Todd. This was priceless. 

   Adrien’s eyes narrow on his angered face. “What was she doing.” “She promised to take the high road.” “She only needs me, I’m her best friend.” He watched the situation from a distance, unnoticed by Marinette. But as sly he is, he did not slip Jason’s radar. 

¬

   “So y’all, 1:30pm. That means, Lunch time!  Right and you’ll be at the cafeteria, I’ll be joining you guy in about 15 minutes. So fuel up. Remember to show your IDs, lunch is on the house! Bon appetit!” Jason cheerfully announced as bows dramatically (like actors at the end of a play) and he turns around.

   A bit into lunch Mrs. Bustier came up to Marinette and Chloe’s table. “Marinette, can I talk to you?” asks Mrs. Bustier. 

  “Can I come too, Mrs. Bustier?” asks Chloe suspiciously

   “No, Chloe. This is just in between Marinette and I, sorry.” Mrs. Bustier replies sternly.

   “It’s okay, Chloe. I’ll be fine,” reassured the ladybug holder, squeezing the bee holder’s hand.

   “Ok, fine. Let me know if something happens.” Then Chloe leans in to whisper to Marinette, “Audio record it, just in case.” Marinette nods. 

   “Ok, Mrs. Bustier. I’m coming!” replies the bluenette happily as she follows Mrs. Bustier away from the crowd. 

   Adrien, from his table with Nino, Alya and Lila watched, “Hey guys, I need to go to the bathroom,” he said before standing up.

¬

  “Marinette you should be setting an example for the class. What you did today, making fun of Lila was wrong,” Mrs. Bustier frowned. “You of all people know Lila's condition and you should be more accepting of her.” Disappointed, Mrs. Bustier continues, “I expect you to apologize to her before we head back to the hotel.”

   “With all respect, no thank you. I will not apologize for my actions,” Marinette sternly begins. “Does the school have any medical record of her illness?” Marinette asks. “Why should I allow her to take credit for my hard work? And why do I have to be the model student who is obligated to be kind to everyone, when no one ever is to me?” Marinette, now more frustrated than before, questions the teacher. She felt a storm of emotion begin to stir. 

   “Because you are the class representative! It is your responsibility to lead the class with your example! Lila is a student with needs, she needs to feel accepted by all her classmates and it is your job to fulfill her needs.”

   “I’m sorry Mrs. Bustier, but sometimes I can’t shove a square in a circle. Sometimes I can’t do things. Lila is lying, and I can’t lie with her. I will not lie.i will not pretend to like her. And why must I be responsible for all the students in class, but receive no respect for it. Receive nothing but hate and insults. How is that fair for me?” Tears begin to collect in Marinette’s eyes. Mrs. Bustier, for the longest time, has been one of Marinette’s favourite teachers. The fact that right now Mrs. Bustier, couldn’t give less of a shit about her feeling hurt. 

   “I understand but what about Lila’s feelings? I cannot let you bully Lila. You are being selfish right now, I never thought you could act like this. I am disappointed in you.” Mrs. Bustier finishes as she walks away. 

   “What about MY feelings. What about me, what’s so wrong with me being selfish every once in a while. Have you ever looked into my family’s bullying complaints against Lila? What about me?” Marinette cries  desperately, as Mrs. Bustier walks away. “Why is everyone ignoring me?”

   “The real question here is, why are you ignoring me?” growled a voice from behind Marinette. “I thought you promised me to take the high road.” Marinette’s eyes widen as she realizes who’s talking to her. 

   “I never promised, Adrien. Not once. I can’t keep silent and alone for longer.”

   “You are not alone, you have me. And I even LET you talk with Chloe.”

   “Yes, I have Chloe and thank you your majesty for letting me communicate with another human being. And no, Adrien I do not have you,” Marinette raises her voice. “Lila has you, you only talk to me in secret. You let Lila lie, you let her hang off your pretty model arms when she wills. You are and were never on my side.”

   “So you really are jealous?”

   Marinette, delirious with anger frustration, her voice laced with contempt, “No, never.” 

   He looks down at Marinette and smiles “Stop lying Marinette.” 

   “I’m not.” Adrien looks back at Marinette, as if he knows something as he too stalks away. “I’M NOT!” Marinette yells. 

¬

   “So she said that she talked to Brucie, Jason Grayson, Tim Todd, a Dick Drake and her precious Damibear!” Jason nearly on his side from laughing too hard. 

   “DAMIBEAR!” Tim howled in laughter, with his hands wrapped around his torso to somehow hold his ribcage together. Both brother’s are laughing their asses off in Tim’s office.

   “I KNOW!”

   “Are we gonna tell him?” Tim begins to ask before he interrupts himself, “No! We are not. What we are going to do is call him that and let him figure it out, sooner or later he will meet the class and when he does…”

   Jason let the scenario Tim described play in his head, “YES! You now speak my wavelength, to be honest maybe Lila wasn’t lying. You may be a Todd.”

   “No fucking way am I one. By the way, you should check on the class, how long has it been since you left them?”

   “Shit! Twenty minutes! Farewell, dear Replacement.”

   “Have fun, report back on any juicy lies, specifically ones about sweet baby Damibear or even Brucie.” 

¬

   “What the fuck was that?” thought Jason as he heard two people arguing in a secluded hallway, “Marinette?” he thought when he saw the girl, immediately putting a name to the face. But he didn’t know the boy. Jason whipped out his phone and quickly took a picture of the situation, making sure to get a clear shot of the boy’s face. For research purposes.

Gunz Blazin: Hey Tim Todd

Gunz Blazin:  Can you gimme a background check for this guy 

(*attaches a cropped image of the mystery boy’s face*) 

Boy Wonder: ???Tim Todd???

Replacement: I gotchu fam. 

Boy Wonder: ???fam???

Boy Wonder: ???

Boy Wonder: Can I be a Todd too

Replacement: No you're a Drake 

   Jason heard a voice coming from behind him, “That’s Adrien Agreste.” 

   Jason turns his head to look at the boy again and hears more of the conversation. He turns back and she’s a tall-ish blonde girl with blue eyes. “You are? Marinette’s friend?”

   “Yes.”

   “And he is not Marinette’s friend?”

   “He absolutely is not Marinette’s friend. He’s the ass-hat who thinks he owns Marinette. Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?”

   “Yes.”

   “What if I just break his nose a little.” (Requested by Ollietheturtle, my new dear editor)

   “As an employee of Wayne Enterprises, I’m supposed to say no, but in all honestly I kinda wanna do that myself…”

¬

TAG LIST: @jeminiikrystal @demonicbusiness @i-am-ironic @woe-is-me0 @miracleofadisaster @clumsy-owl-4178 @onmywaytoloveyou

[aperrywilliams]

A Normal Conversation Ch17 (Spencer Reid x Maxine Brenner)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

Ch01 Ch02 Ch03 Ch04 Ch05 Ch06 Ch07 Ch08 Ch09 Ch10 Ch11 Ch12 Ch13 Ch14 Ch15 Ch16 Ch17

———————

Summary: Spencer and Max spend time together and explore more about the things they enjoy together. Some news at the end can be worrisome.

Word Count: 4844.

Rating: Mature. Some smut. Fluff. Angst.

Warnings: Penetrative sex, cursing.

A/N: It has been a while without publishing a new chapter. But here we are again. This is my baby, I couldn't leave it alone.

——————–

Chapter 17: Who am I speaking to?

They held each other for a while, until Max was already much quieter. The tears had stopped falling.

"Thanks, I really feel better," said Max, breaking the embrace and leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Glad to hear that," Spencer said smiling.

“Yes, you were right. I needed to get it out." Max rubbed her eyes and wiped the last traces of tears from her cheeks. "It's not that I haven't done it before, but there are times when I remember and I can't stop the tears..."

"You don't have to apologize for that."

"Really, thanks Spencer". Max gave Reid a kiss on the cheek and turned to wash the mugs and plates that were in the sink. Spencer stood for a few moments wondering if it was a good time or not to go home. He felt that Max needed her space even though he didn't want to leave her alone, especially after seeing her previous state of vulnerability. Reid wondered if it was convenient to talk about something else or just leave. The least he wanted to do at that moment was make her uncomfortable. At last he decided to speak.

"Are you sleepy? If you want to sleep, I can go home. So I let you rest…”. Spencer said as he started to button his shirt. Max wiped her hands on one of the towels on the counter and turned to look at him.

"Not. I'm not sleepy. And not. I don't want you to go home,” said Max as she approached Spencer looking for him to look at her. She took one of his hands and squeezed it gently.

"Okay... so... do you want us to talk about something?"

"Not... really, I think we talked enough... or at least I talked enough..." Max put her arms around his neck and sought his lips to catch them in a deep kiss which Spencer responded with more intensity than he expected, clutching her hips. When they parted they looked at each other with a smile. "Spencer, everything I said before is true, but there is something I missed adding..."

"What you missed?" Reid asked as he ran fingers of one of his hands through her hair and the other stroked her cheek.

"I couldn't have thought of just having casual sex with you...". Max said as her fingers played with one of the buttons on his shirt.

"No? Why not?" Spencer asked curiously.

"Because from the day I met you I knew that I wanted you just for myself...". Max started unbuttoning his 'recently buttoned' shirt, as he cupped her cheeks with both hands and leaned down to kiss her. The idea of going to his place was gone in seconds as they began to kiss fiercely. Max with her hands on his bare chest traced pats that drew whimpers from both of them. He lifted her with his arms and sat her on the table to level her height. He pulled out his shirt first and then untied the lace of her robe, dropped it on the table. Reid paused a moment so that he could gaze at her nudity.

"I don't know how you do it... but look what you do to me..." Spencer said as he buried his mouth on her neck and taking one of her hands guided her to touch his obvious erection.

"I'm not going to complain about that..." Max said giggling as she unbuttoned his slacks, which slid down to the floor along with his boxers.

"Neither do I..." he said groaning at the touch of her hands. "Tell me what you want?"

"I want you to fuck me right here and right now...". Max said with visible excitement.

They could both tell that while it wasn't a very comfortable place to have sex, the scene they imagined was erotic enough not to give it a try. And they managed to make it work. After some awkward movements, which included a kick from Spencer to the table and Max's near fall from the edge of the table, they managed to find a position that provided sufficient balance. Holding Max's hips with his hands and hers around his neck with Max’s head back, they increased their rhythm, as well as the moans and words of adoration between them.

“Oh… fuck. More. Harder. Faster. Like that... oh Spencer... " said Max moaning and panting.

"Yes, say my name Max... I want to hear it ... say it…". Spencer replied while his thrusts increased in speed.

"Spencer... babe... uhhh... yeah, like this... Spencer... go on... fuck...". Max was engulfed in pleasure

"Fuck Max...". Spencer could barely articulate a coherent sentence.

"I'm so close Spencer... fuck ... I'm going to cum".

"Do it... cum for me... that’s right baby... fuck... fuck..."

It wasn't long until they were both lost in the heights of an orgasm that hit them almost at the same time. Barely able to breathe, they let out one last groan that echoed off the kitchen walls. With a little more awareness of time and space, Spencer rose, carefully picking Max up from the table and carrying her into the bedroom. He gently laid her on the bed while he went to the bathroom. When he returned Max had not moved from where he had left her. He came over and lay down beside her. Breathing more normally, they stared at the ceiling.

"So just for you, huh?" Spencer said after a while.

"Is it too much to ask?" asked Max laughing.

"In this minute you could ask me for anything and I could not refuse ...". They both laughed. They didn't even want to see the clock, but they could have bet it was early morning. They covered themselves with the sheets and the comforter. Max lay on her side, turning her back to Spencer, who hugged her from behind and placed a kiss on her neck, while tracing strokes on her arm.

"You drive me crazy, you know that right?" Spencer whispered in her ear.

"Now I know. And I assure you that you will not get rid of me so easily Dr. Reid," said Max smiling as she stretched to get comfortable under the covers.

It wasn't long until they were both sound asleep.

The next morning the ringing of Spencer's phone on the nightstand woke them both up. Not yet fully awake, he picked up the phone and saw it was Garcia. "You must be kidding...?" he said just before answering. Max turned to him rubbing her eyes and seeing how after a snort he answered the call.

"Reid… Penelope, did something happen?"

“Good morning, Boy Wonder. I know it's Saturday and it's early ... "

"Please, tell me we don't have a case..." Spencer said as he rubbed his eyes.

“No, no… is not that. But I need to locate Rossi and he doesn't answer my calls”.

"Okay... Rossi? What's wrong?... and why me...?"

“You were the one who saw him last yesterday. I thought you might know something about his plans for today..."

"No, I don't know anything about him... only that he was going to his place... he didn't tell me if he was going to the cabin today... did you call Kristal?"

"No. I didn’t. I can't explain, but I can only tell you that he asked me for a favor and I need to report some things to him. He explicitly asked me not to involve anyone else…”. By now Spencer was up and out of bed and into his boxers. Max looked at him curiously when she saw how he frowned.

"It's because of Lynch… right?" Spencer interrupted.

"Reid don't make me talk, please ... just if you talk to him, tell him I need him to call me" Penelope said quickly.

"Okay. If I'm lucky I'll let you know…"

“Thanks genius boy. Give my regards to Max"

"Uhm? How ...?"

“I know you are there with her. I called you at your place first and you didn't answer me. Since it's Saturday and the time, I don't think you're anywhere else. Give her my regards and I hope we can see each other later"

"Okay ... I'll tell her". Spencer said still confused, hanging up. Max, already more awake, was looking at him curiously.

"Something happened?". Max asked seeing how Spencer was still standing next to the bed.

“Nothing happened… yet, I think. It was Penelope. She sent you greetings, by the way. For some reason she knew I was here…”. Spencer said, shaking his head and sitting down on the bed next to Max.

“Penelope is adorable. And she cares a lot for all of you," said Max as her hand began to gently caress Spencer's back tracing circles on it.

“Yeah, she is a great woman. We have known each other for many years and she has always been for everyone..."

"But you were worried, what did she say?... you have a frown," asked Max.

“She was trying to talk to Dave. I think… they are doing an independent investigation of a case that we still have open… one of the difficult ones… and very personal for Rossi”.

"And you're worried about him ..." Max said. Spencer nodded.

"Yes, I know what it feels like when a case touches you personally..." he said scratching his head.

“Maybe… all of you need to spend more time outside of work. You are all friends, you need to be distracted from the things you do and see every day... surely that does not help to solve a case, but at least help to pause and talk about what is happening to you...". Spencer crawled into bed again, sitting with his back on the backrest.

"It's difficult to do that sometimes... but in general, it's Rossi himself who invites us to his house... well, mansion... from time to time..."

"And don't you meet somewhere else... go out to other places? Do other things?"

"We have gone where Matt’s, where Luke’s... where Penelope’s... where JJ’s... it's not the usual, but sometimes it happens..."

"And in your place?". Spencer thought for a moment.

“Eh… I don't think I've ever planned something like that in my place… I mean, they know where I live… they have visited me… but doing 'something'… I think never did. Well, it's not Rossi' yard either…”. Spencer said with a shrug.

"Okay, your home is not a mansion... but intention is what counts, right?"

“I hadn't really thought about it… we've always relied on Penelope and Rossi for our activities outside of work…” Spencer mused.

"It is not bad give back sometimes...". Max leaned in to give Spencer a kiss. "Good morning, by the way."

"Good morning..." Spencer replied returning the kiss gently.

“I'll go to the shower and make breakfast. Think about what you want to do today, because if you think I will let you go home now, you are wrong”. Giving him another kiss, she got up from the bed.

After Max got dressed, Spencer asked if she could go get his travel bag that was in the trunk with his clothes while he showered. They ate breakfast while going through the newspaper Max received every day. They agreed to go to the National Gallery of Art, which while they both knew, Max knew it would have a new exhibit she was interested in seeing. Spencer agreed. Then they would have time to walk for a bit before lunch. The day was clear but a little colder than usual.

They toured the exhibition in as much detail as possible for a few hours. Spencer asked Max questions about some of the things they saw, to which Max tried to give as much detail as possible, at least what she knew. There were very striking paintings which caught Spencer's attention. "Surely you are not a lover of modern art" Max said laughing at one point. "Not much really" was his reply. They both looked relaxed and it was noticeable they enjoyed that time in each other's company. Max was happy to be able to talk about the things she liked without having to hold back or see any disgusted or bored face. For his part, Spencer was pleased to see someone as passionate about something as Max was at that minute. In addition, he liked to learn new things and thanks to his memory, he knew that he could retain them without major problem.

After leaving the exhibition they walked through the surrounding streets and found themselves in a park which they decided to cross to continue their conversation. In addition to commenting on what he had seen in the museum, Spencer gave her details of things he had seen in other places. Some of them had been discussed on their first date night, others were new to Max, so she took the opportunity to ask all the questions that appeared to him. During their walk they found a place that caught their attention for lunch. At lunch Max got a call from his dad.

"Dad? Hi..."

“Max, I was just calling you to see if you would come tonight or tomorrow. Michelle just called me and Sammy will come for dinner today, in case you prefer to come today instead of tomorrow"

"Yes of course. I thought tomorrow was better, but if Michelle is going to be with Sammy, I'd rather go today"

"Okay. See you in a few hours then"

"Yes, bye dad. I love you". Max hang up and left her cell phone on the table. “It was my dad. I was thinking of going to see them tomorrow, but I'm going to dinner today and seeing Sammy... I thought maybe... you could come with me"

“Max, I'd like to… but I promised my mom to be with her today before bedtime. I’m sorry…"

"Okay, don't apologize" Max said giving him a smile. "You can come with me another day."

"Of course"

After lunch, they walked past a photography exhibition and they decided to visit for a while. They walked holding hands while they recognized some of the photographs and discussed them.

“I think you might like this one. It dates from 1942, World War II, collective chaos and this farm in the middle of a field. It contrasts with the smoke from the surrounding sectors, after a bombing…” said Max as she pointed to one of the photographs at Spencer.

“It is impressive how it seems to be an oasis among all the disaster that surrounds it. It's really good,” Spencer said, coming closer to look at the details in the photograph.

“There are several with the same contrast. The first time I saw it my skin crawled, really”. Spencer was so focused on seeing the image that he didn't notice Max had pulled out his cell phone and was taking a picture of him.

"What?..." Spencer asked, realizing what Max had done.

"I needed to capture that face". Max said smiling.

"My face?" Spencer asked curiously.

“Yeah, that adorable face immersed in wonder and concentration. Besides, I don't have any photos of you and unlike you, I don't have an eidetic memory”. Spencer couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay. It seems fair to me"

"Can I be more daring still?". Max asked

"More…?"

"Sure... how about a photo of both of us?"

"Selfie style?". Spencer asked with a frown. Max nodded. “I think just for you I would make an exception. Not that I really like the idea..."

"Come on... give me something for when you're on your cases trips... please?"

"Okay... but just for you, okay?"

"Don't worry, I won't share it with anyone. Just as I am not going to share you with anyone either" said Max joking.

Spencer hugged Max as she positioned the phone to try to capture both faces. Unfortunately her short arms didn't help with the perfect angle. Spencer, realizing it, took the cell phone himself and pushed it away to improve the angle. He pressed the button and the photo was captured. Max took advantage of their closeness to lift her face and search for Spencer's lips with hers. Eyes closed and kissing, Spencer pushed the same button again. Another photograph was stored on the phone.

"Thank you". Max whispered.

"Just for you". Reid replied giving Max a peck in her lips.

The afternoon had passed quite quickly and it was nearing time for their family obligations. Spencer took Max back to her apartment. He parked the car outside the main entrance.

"Can we talk tomorrow?" asked Max.

"Of course. Give my regards to your dad, Eloise, Michelle and Sammy"

“Sure I will. Have a good afternoon with your mom"

"Thank you. I hope I can take you one of these days, of course, if you want to go. She will surely like you"

“Do you think so? You must be the most important thing for her. I don't think it's easy to please when it comes to you” said Max laughing.

"You please me... that should be enough." Spencer leaned down and lifting her chin let their lips meet gently. Letting out a sigh, Max clung to the lapel of his jacket to keep from breaking the kiss. As they pulled away they both sighed.

"Would you believe me if I told you that you have me as a teenager?... what did you do to me Dr. Reid?"

"I think the same as you to me... Miss Brenner." After a short kiss, Max quickly got out of the car.

"I will not risk staying here forever... although I would like... now, go" said Max smiling and closing the car door.

Although they spoke on the phone on Sunday, they could not see each other until a few days later. After two cases in a row out of town, Spencer had arrived at his apartment exhausted. He remembered that Max had her last interview at the Smithsonian and they should be about to give her the final answer. He picked up the phone and called her while he was lying on his couch after throwing his shoes on the floor.

"Hey how are you?". Spencer said.

“Hey… what a surprise. Well... are you out yet?"

“No, I just arrived. I'm in the apartment. Do you want to come?... I would offer to go but I don't think I can move anymore. I'm lying on the couch and I don't have the energy for anything else…”.

"I would love to. But can it be later? I have to pick up Sammy from a schoolmate and take him back home. Do you think could be later?"

"Yes of course. I can order something for dinner"

"It would be perfect ... see you later then..."

"Max!, wait... did they call you from...?". Spencer was interrupted by Max.

"I have no news yet... well, I'll tell you more details later, okay?".

"Yes of course. I’ll wait for you". Spencer replied.

It was after 8:00 p.m. when Spencer felt two knocks on the door. He had already received the food he ordered, so it was surely Max. He got up from the couch and opened the door.

"Hey! Handsome”. Max greeted.

"Hello gorgeous. What have you got there?" Spencer asked pointing to a paper bag that Max was holding in one of her arms.

"Something for dinner," Max replied, as she got in the apartment. Spencer closed the door and took her free hand pulling it up to his body and leaning in to kiss her.

"I missed you". Spencer said after breaking the kiss but still hugging her.

"I missed you too". Max whispered back.

"If you want I can show you right now how much I missed you these days...". Spencer whispered playfully searching Max's neck with his lips.

“Uhm… tempting. But… let's have dinner first,” Max answered, letting go of Spencer's arms and walking to the kitchen. "Besides... I have news for you." Spencer looked at her confused. Max smiled and pulled a bottle of wine out of the paper bag. "I got the job!".

"Max! You didn't want to say anything to me on the phone when I asked…". Spencer reproached as he walked into the kitchen as well.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Max replied.

“This is excellent news! I knew you would get it...". Spencer said as he grabbed Max's waist and plastered a kiss to the base of her neck.

"Thank you for having faith in me"

"I didn’t hesitate for a minute"

"That's why we should celebrate" Max said as she opened the bottle of wine. Spencer prepared the plates and they went to the table for dinner.

After dinner they both sat on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. Despite talking a lot at dinner, Max was quietly watching Spencer rambling about the importance of music in the development of modern psychology. Reid, even though the enthusiasm in his speak, could notice Max's silence.

"I'm rambling again, right?" Max, realizing that Spencer had stopped speaking, rushed to reply.

"No, it's okay. You were developing an idea... "

"And you were in outer space..." Spencer said with a frown.

"Sorry, I got a little distracted..." Max apologized.

"Don’t apologize. What happens?... because something happens”. Reid had his eyes fixed on Max studying her reactions.

"Is this what you get when your boyfriend is a profiler?..." Max tried to joke, avoiding a conversation she didn't want to have.

"You don't have to be a profiler to know that something is happening..."

"Yes it's true. But I don't know what to answer you…”. Max shrugged.

"The truth, for example?..."

“It would be easy if I really knew what's wrong with me. But it’s not so clear to me…”. Max took a sip of her wine.

"We can try to figure it out together..." Spencer offered taking a sip of his wine as well. Max let out a sigh.

"Okay... this will come out spontaneously, so don't expect some sort of order in my ideas..."

"Too many warnings Max…" Spencer tried to joke, which brought a little smile to Max.

“I know I should be happy. I am. I got the job I wanted, my family is fine, I have a loving, attentive and attractive boyfriend who drives me crazy…”. Spencer blushed a little and smiled. “It's true! Don't be humble with me Dr. Reid, ok?. But well, despite all that I feel anxious. I'm having strange dreams, nightmares. It's like from one moment to the next I'm going to lose all the good things I have in my life now. I'm scared. And I don’t know why. I don't see any signs that anything is going to happen… I don't know. But I think about it and I don't like it. What if they call me tomorrow and tell me it was a mistake and I don't have the job? What if after I finish talking you want to break up with me because you think I'm crazy?... ". Max finished speaking and took the last sip of wine left in her glass. "I'm silly, I know. I shouldn't even be talking to you about all this…”. Max complained.

"Hey... don't say that." Spencer took Max's empty glass and set it along with his on the coffee table. He sat closer to Max and took her hands. “You are not crazy for sharing your fears with me. And no, I'm not going to break up with you for this…”. A smile crossed Spencer's face.

“I'm not used to feeling good about things that happen in my life. That's why I think all the time that I'll lose everything from one moment to the next… it's stupid…”. Max confessed.

“I don't know if it's exactly the same, but I think I've felt that way more than once. Too good to be true, right?... And I'm not just talking about your attractive and loving boyfriend...”. Max started laughing as she shook her head. “No, but seriously. I think you are afraid to enjoy the things that are happening to you. And that makes you feel guilty. But you shouldn't! Max… you have right to do and live life as you want to. And enjoy it. There's nothing wrong with that,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, I know. And I really want to. Moreover, we shouldn't even be talking about this right now… ”. Max released Reid's hands and sought his hug snuggling. “I'll stop my silliness. Now I want to enjoy being with you. Had I told you that I missed you these days?" Max said as she dropped into Spencer's embrace.

“Yes, but it doesn't bother me you remind me. I missed you too". Max raised her head to look at him.

"Show me" she said intensifying her gaze on him and biting her lower lip trying to contain a mischievous smile.

"With pleasure". Spencer leaned down and caught her lips in a long, intense kiss. When they pulled away they were both breathing heavily.

"Uhmm ... I’m not sure if you missed me as much as you say..." Max teased.

"Am I not?... well... let's fix this to make it clear." With that said, Reid suddenly got up from the couch and picked up Max, taking her in his arms and leading her to his bedroom.

"Spencer! What are you doing? Where are you taking me?..." Max said giggling.

"Where I could show you the evidence to prove my point" Reid sentenced with a mischievous smile on his face.

After that night, several days passed where Max and Spencer couldn't see each other. Max, on the one hand, left things in order at school after having notified that she was leaving her job. Between that and the training days at the Smithsonian, the hours of the day slipped by quickly. Meanwhile Spencer came and went from the city according to the cases that were arriving at the BAU. Despite this, they both managed to talk on the phone for even a few minutes during the nights. That, in addition to the messages between them in the day.

In one of the messages Max received, Spencer told her they were in a difficult case and it might take him more days to get back than he thought. Two days after that message they talked on the phone for a while and Max noticed Spencer was exhausted. Max let him know her concern about how his voice sounded on the phone to which Spencer replied not to worry about him, that he would probably end the case that day since they had a solid clue as to where the unsub was. He promised as soon as he got home he would sleep a whole day to recover.

The next night came and Spencer hadn't texted during the day or called Max. Thinking for a moment, Max was going to call him but stopped when she remembered perhaps Spencer had arrived home and was recovering his lost sleep, just as he had promised the night before. Still impatient, she didn’t want to be an alarmist and went to sleep.

The morning after, Max woke up and the first thing she looked at was her phone to see if she had any messages from Spencer. Nothing. She saw the clock and it was still early. It was possible Reid was still sleeping. Max got up and started her day like any other. Among her activities was to collect the last things she had at school and begin to prepare the materials she would take to her new work place from the following week.

When Max got back to her apartment checked the clock and it was almost lunchtime. No notification on her phone. That was weird already. Although Spencer might be exhausted, it was difficult for him to be sleeping at that hour. So she decided to call him. The first call was unsuccessful. The phone rang until it threw up voicemail. Tried a second time with the same result. At the third call there was finally an answer. Max was quick to speak.

"Wow, I was scared that you didn't answer the phone... I knew you would arrive exhausted, but not enough to sleep until this hour...". Max was interrupted by a voice on the other end of the line.

"Max?" The voice wasn't Spencer's, but it sounded familiar.

"Yes... who am I speaking to? I'm trying to locate Spencer...". Max's head began to spin rapidly thinking of all the possibilities why Spencer wasn't the one answering her call.

"I'm Penelope... we met a while ago..." said the voice on the other end of the line. There Max recognized that it was Garcia, Spencer's co-worker.

"Hi Penelope. Is Spencer there with you…?”. Max thought they were at the BAU and her genius boyfriend had left his phone forgotten.

"Max... no, he is here... but he can't... we're in the hospital... Spencer is injured and unconscious...". Max froze upon hearing Garcia's words. Apparently one of her nightmares was coming true in that precisely moment.

——————–

[just-some-random-blogger]

Noona, You're So Pretty

SHINee + TVXQ! Lee Taemin x Actress!Reader Characters: Park Seo Joon, Choi Minho, Shim Changmin (MAX), Lee Taemin Summary: You were a big time Hallyu sweetheart. Having garnered the attention of the masses with your debut role as a high school student with the ability to talk to animals, everyone fell in love with your bubbly and quirky personality, including Shinee's maknae, Lee Taemin. And for the most part, Taemin thinks he can stand a chance with you, except--oh no, he thinks you *may* not like younger guys and your new co-star, Park Seo Joon, seems a little too taken with you. Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Fluff, pining, typos etc.

A/N: i hope four years is okay w/u.

Two more questions.

It was my turn to chose. My co-actor, hair slicked back, snug in a cashmere top, nodded my way. The act was so simple, and yet I could practically hear the swoons of the ladies in the audience. Who could blame them, Park Seo-joon was a dashing and hardworking man.

There were flashes of light from the photographers. I tried not to squint and insyead smile softly in order to look flattering in the photos. I nodded at the man, who stood up and presented his question.

"You've done a handful of notable projects since your debut in 'Sounds of the Animals'. From then to now, what is your secret to being so graciously recieved by the public? And what can we expect in the future?"

I nod upon hearing this and break into a smile. It was so flattering that from all the questions we were asked about this drama at hand, people were interested in my career in particular.

I clear my throat and move closer to the mic, "Uh, firstly, thank you for being interested in me and for saying that I am graciously recieved by the public." 

I break into a chuckle, Seo-joon beside me cracks a smile too. 

"Although, I will admit I don't have a secret," I say in an unsure tone. "Hmmm, I believe I am just really blessed because I am able to do what I love and have people behind me help me and shape me into being the best I can be." I say and turn to the rest of the panel with my other co-stars, writers, and director.

"If anything, the secret is a good team. Having such great people behind us is what really makes a drama, or any project, successful and well-recieved."

I look around the reporters and watch them nod. I end my reply, "As for the future, I can't really say. I hope to keep working hard. But, er, right now, I am hoping and beckoning everyone to watch 'Replay'. We worked very hard on it and it was so much fun and such an honor to work with everyone here. Please watch it diligently and stay tuned til the end."

There was a bustle between the reporters. The flashing camera lights broke out again, and I allowed the man next to you to choose whomever he wanted.

Last question.

Seo-joon points, and the woman wastes no time, "you said a while ago that during the filming of this drama, you two got very close because you would go working out together. Besides this, what else do you two do together outside of work?"

No, there was nothing physical about my role in the drama. I just grew to like working out, and I had to because, well, I needed to keep my physique up, you know.

I turn to the man beside me and he turns to me as well. For a moment we stay quiet, as if doing so would make an answer come out of nowhere.

"Well," he starts looking at me as if the answer was on my cheeks. I hold back a laugh ad shrug, answering for him, "we eat a lot."

The room breaks into laughter.

"He treats the cast and crew to soju from time to time," another of our co-stars point out. "Seo-joon is good at keeping his alcohol."

Seo-joon sudenly remembers something, "Actually, sometimes Shinee's Choi Minho would work out with us." Minho and him were friends because they were in a drama called Hwarang before. (Legit they are, it's really good, you should watch it)

I raise my brows and nod. Seo-joon continues, mentioning my name, "TVXQ's Shim Changmin would sometimes he'd work out too." I was friends Changmin because we worked on a drama together. "And one time, she, myself, Minho, Changmin drank together--"

My eyes suddenly widen, realizing where this is going.

"--and she--" Seo-joon chuckles out.

I but in and punch his shoulder, "ya oppa!"

"--got drunk and started crying."

The room laughs and I feel my face burn. I groan and start hammering Seo-joon's shoulder, but he only bends his neck to the side, pulling away slightly, and laughs. He even continues on mimicking me, apparently.

"Ahoohoohoooo, I'm so happy to be friends with you guys. You are all so great. And so, so handsome."

I jump out of my seat and stand, "YA SHI--" I then clench my teeth and playfully place my hands the man's neck. I laugh, pull away, and sit back down. At this point, the entire room is awake with giggles. Truth be told, I wasn't really embarrassed. I just like making people laugh.

I blow are between my pouted lips and exaggeratedly whine, "Oppa, you are clearly the worst."

The man who was a year older than me basked in satisfaction, "Ye, but you still love me."

Later that day, you and Seo-joon attended a party celebrating the airing of Replay, hosted by the TV network the drama was being aired on. Many came up to you and congratulated you. Some shook your hand, others asked for a selfie. A smaller portion asked for an autograph, and your relationship status was Seo-joon.

You were in the midst of finishing a conversation with some producers when a hand came to your shoulder, followed by the greetigs of a tall man. He spoke ypur name fondly, and you broke into a pleased smile, "Changmin oppa!"

We share a quick hug and I can't help but flutter at his expression. "Congratulations on your show!" the man in a plaid, grey suit speaks with his hand on my shoulder. He pulls away and continues, "I heard the ratings are expected to go through the roof."

I chuckled and shook my head, "I can only hope so."

"Yaahhhh, you're Hallyu's sweetheart. Don't worry about."

I give a smile at his reassurance and decide to change the topic, "You here alone, oppa, or do you have a hot date?" I wiggle my brows.

Changmin shakes his head and rolls his eyes, "Well, I recall you drunkenly admitting Minho is handsome, so..."

"Ya!" I raise, "I'd admit Minho is handsome regardless of my sobriety."

Changmin snorts, "speaking of."

"Noona!"

"Minho-ya!" I coo and welcome the younger man's embrace. I chuckle and cling onto his green sweater when he squeezes tightly and pushes slightly forward. 

"Ya!" Changmin scolds his dongsaeng and I can't stop laughing. "It's as if you haven't seen her in years."

Minho has a mischevious glint in his eyes. "Noona, you're so pretty," he notes, making me chuckle and Changmin snort.

"Thay's the title of his debut song," Changmin mutters to me, making me nod,

"Actually," Minho cocks his head to the side, "its english title is Replay."

My lips form a please o-shape, "Ya, you should perform that for me then!"

"No way," Minho says, "but our maknae might." The man then moves to his side to reveal a lanky man in a loose button down. "Lee Taemin," Minho introduces. The said man chuckles sweetly with his cresent shaped eyes. "Annyeonghaseyo," he greets bowing his head.

I smile back and mimic his actions.

"I've been a big admirer of yours since Sounds of the Animals. I couldn't stop watching it because I just loved the idea of being able to talk to animals."

"Wah, thank you so much," I clap my hands together and bow my head at him.

"That, and I also think noona is super pretty," Taemin says in a gradual chuckle.

The four of us break into a laugh. Changmin and Minho embrace each other in amusement. Minho is losing his mind with his distinctive high-pitched laughter, and Changmin's nose is scrunched up in glee. "Ya, I think we're just gonna get a drink," Minho says, rasing a hand. Changmin pat's Taemin's shoulder and at this point it's so painfully obvious that this was all a setup.

Taemin and I turn to each other. He chuckles to me again, "Minho's really loud."

"I know. It makes working out with him really fun."

We shuffle from where we stand and Taemin moves a bit closer, "Honestly, I don't like working out, but I would if it was with you."

I can't help but laugh and cover my face at his blatant but smooth flirting. I shake my head and feel my face wrap in warmth.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't do it like them. I don't lift heavy weights or anything. I just do what they consider a warm-up you know. The treadmill runs, which I love because I get to listen to a lot of music, and then like stretching, push-ups, sit-ups, nothing that actually requires gym equipment to be honest."

He hums, "my work-out is dance."

"Oh, no, no, I know that. I may have watched a lot of your performances during my breaks."

Taemin's face lights up upon hearing this, "For real?"

"Yeah," I nod, "you are really good at dancing. Honestly good isn't even the word. I'm good at dancing, you're on a whole 'nother level."

He claps his hands, eye crinkling, "Well then noona has to show me her moves!"

"No way, you rascal!" I shake my head profusely.

"Nooo, come on dance with me!"

"And embarrass myself in yet another dance battle with an SM artist? No way! I already did that with Changmin oppa. Besides, I might break a hip! I'm too old to be your dance partner."

Taemin tilts his head to that, and takes the statement as a double meaning. Did you not like younger guys?

I hear someone call my name. I whip my head to the direction of the voice and see that it's Seo-joon, holding two flutes of champagne.

"Oppa," I smile when he comes over. He smiles as well and hands me one of the glasses, "I got you a drink."

I look at it and take it from him with a quick thank you. He smiles down at me and moves some stray strand of hair on the side of my face away. "Joon-hee PD-nim was looking for you a while ago."

"Really? Where is she? What'd she say?"

"You look really sexy in that dress," he says, turning from his glass to me. I snort and feel my cheels burn. "Ya, oppa!" I snarl and hit his shoulder repeatedly.

Seo-joon laughs and gives me an amused side eye.

As he and I share a laugh, and then I notice Taemin's awkward expression and remember he was begging me to dance with him. My laughter faded and I nudged the chuckling Seo-joon, "Ya oppa, this is Shinee's Lee Taemin."

"Ah," Seo-joon nods and turns to the shorter man, "you're the maknae right?"

Taemin turns to him and nods, chuckling, "Ye."

"Sorry, I didn't get you a drink. I didn't know you were here."

"Ah, no, it's okay."

"Do you want mine? I haven't drank from it."

Taemim raises his hands and shakes it, "no, no, no, I'm fine."

Seo-joon purses his lips, nods and turns to me, "I guess I'll drink it then." His lips connect with the rim, and his tongue darts out afterward. A moment passes and there is an awkward silence between us. Both Seo-joon and Taemin turn to me and open their my to speak up.

I look between then and they turn to each other.

Seo-joon motions, "Please, continue."

"No, it's aright you can go first."

"No, but you were talking to her first, before I came here, so you go."

Taemin agrees with his reasoning. "Noona," he calls, "Minho hyung told me that you really like cupcakes."

I hum and nod in agreement.

Taemin smiles brightly like a while ago again, "well I got you one." He chuckles and I knit my brows upon hearing that. I look at him and purse my lips, but when he stick his hand in his pocket and pulls something, I realize what he means.

My jaw drops into a pleased smile and he dangles a small cupcake key chain in front of me. I smile at the sight of it, "Wah, that's for me"

"Yes," he says simply and grabs my free hand suddenly, placing it on my palm. I smile and feel my neck heat up at his action.

Seo-joon takes a sip on hs  drink again and looks between us. He chuckles lowly and turns over his shoulder.

"Thank you so much, Taemin. You didn't have to get me anything though."

"No, I wanted to though, so please use it well."

Seo-joon speaks up, "Ye, well, I just wanted to say that we were invited to dinner next friday. Are you going to attend?"

"Ah," I nod, knowing it was a company gathering, "sure. Are you?"

Seo-joon nods simply. "Well," he gestures his head to the side, "there's someone calling me. I'll see you later."

I nod and Seo-joon places a hand on my shoulder. He then turns Taemin and gives him a polite smile and bow before going off.

Taemin purses his lips and sighs, "Seo-joon-ssi is nice."

I turn to Taemin and nod, "He is. He's a very good co-worker. Very hard working."

Taemin hums, "You seem to like him very much."

I feel the suggestiveness in his statement, but I ignore it and snort, "Well, he's pretty annoying sometimes, but you learn to love him."

"... he seems to very mucn like you too. Like... a woman."

My lips part at his words, and the next thing I know I'm at a loss for words. When I feel my face heat up, I chuckle and turn away, "Aye, it's not like that. We're just realy close because we worked together as lovers. He's really like my older brother though."

Taemin decides to believe it and breaks into a wide grin, "Really. What a relief."

My brows quirk up at that, "Why is that?"

"Because I really wanted to ask you out."

My lips part again, but this time I break into a big smile. I chuckle and take a sip on my drink for the first time. "I like how you're really confident."

Taemin's shoulders shake and she smile, "Does that mean you want to get cupcakes with me sometime?"

"Hmm," my eyes crinkle, "well, if you bought me such a cute keychain of one, then I suppose I wouldn't regret it."

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[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Right-Side Up AU, Part Three: It’s the End of the World {AO3} {tumblr} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Nineteen → The Hospital

“I mean, you have to admit, from a technical standpoint,” Dustin said, “It’s an engineering marvel.” 

“How?” Steve asked, glancing over at him. “There’s no fire exits, no stairs-” 

“It all looks the same, too.” Will sighed. 

They’d been wandering the tunnels for hours. Dustin glanced over at Will, a bit concerned; he hadn’t said anything about feeling Mike’s presence- or anyone else’s, for that matter- since the elevator. He hoped nothing happened, and Mike could track them soon. 

“I don’t think this tunnel was designed for walking.” Robin said, glancing around. “Perfect for transporting cargo, sure. You drop the crates in the elevator, deliver the package, nobody’s the wiser.” 

“You think they built this whole mall just so they could transport that green poison?” Steve asked. 

“I very seriously doubt it’s something as boring as poison.” Dustin said. “It’s gotta be much more valuable.” 

“Like Promethium?” Robin asked. 

Will shrugged. “Maybe.” 

“What the hell is promethium?” Steve glared over at them. 

“It’s what Victor Stone’s dad used to make Cyborg’s bionic and cybernetic components.” Robin said. 

“Oh, thank God, it’s a comic thing.” Steve sighed. “I thought it was some other lab shit you hadn’t told me.” 

“I think we got most of it down.” Dustin said. “Will, anything you can think of?” 

Will shrugged. “Robin, do you believe us yet?” 

“I think I’m still processing.” Robin admitted. 

“But what I’m saying is,” Dustin said, “The green stuff is probably being used to make something, or power something.” 

“You think it’s a weapon?” Will asked. 

“Maybe.” 

“So we’re walking towards a nuclear weapon.” Steve nodded. “That’d be great.” 

“But if they’re building something, why here?” Robin asked. “I mean, it’s Hawkins. We’re a rest stop on the way to DisneyWorld at best.” 

Will flinched, stopping dead in his tracks. “Dustin?” 

“What?” Dustin’s eyes widened. “Is something wrong?” 

Will shivered a little. “You… you know how we thought that this all…” he gestured through the tunnel, “Might have something to do with us?” 

“With the Lab and our powers, yeah.” Dustin nodded. 

“What if… what if we were on the right track, but still… wrong?” 

“You’re losing us, buddy.” Steve said. 

Will opened his mouth, then shuddered again and shut his eyes. Dustin quickly ran over, putting his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “Will? Breathe. Breathe, okay? We’re okay.” 

“Maybe not for long.” Will shivered, before reaching up and grabbing one of Dustin’s hands. “Dustin… what if it’s the Gate?” 

Dustin froze. “Wh- no. No, Mike closed that.” 

“Maybe they want him to reopen it.” Will started shaking harder. “What if they’re after him? And I told him to come get us! I’m so stupid! Dustin, what-” 

“Calm down. Calm down. Just breathe. Everything’s gonna be okay. Alright. We’re gonna solve this. We’ll fix it. Look at me. Look at me.” 

Will finally met Dustin’s eyes, and after a moment, he took a deep breath. “One, two, three…” he began counting, under his breath. 

“Four, five, six.” Dustin nodded, speaking with him for a moment. 

“What are they doing?” Robin hesitantly asked Steve, eyes wide. 

“Seven, eight, nine…”

“It’s a calming-down thing.” Steve explained quickly, before making a shushing motion. 

“Ten, eleven…” 

“Me.” Will said. 

“You.” Dustin nodded, smiling. 

Will paused, then smiled, too. “Seven, Kali, Lucas, you-” 

“Me!” 

“Mike, me.” 

“Mike, you!” 

Will giggled, and Dustin slowly moved his hands off of his shoulders, though he kept one locked with Will’s, letting their interlocking fingers swing at their sides. 

“And, hey,” Dustin breathed, “If it’s the Gate, we’ll take care of it. It won’t happen again.” 

“Not again.” Will nodded. 

The two of them then turned to the older teenagers. Steve looked Will over quickly to make sure his panic had ceased, before shooting them a thumbs-up. Robin, meanwhile, was staring hard at them. 

“So… you’re serious about this shit.” she said. “The superpowers, the Lab, the other dimension-” 

“Yep.” Dustin nodded. 

“Oh my God.” Robin ran a hand through her hair. “Holy shit. And Mike and Lucas-” 

“They’re our brothers, yeah.” Will nodded. 

Dustin’s heart skipped a beat, and without thinking he said, “Well, I mean, it’s not- we’re not, like, really brothers, just-” 

Will turned to him, a spark of fear in his eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, it’s just-” 

“We’re not really brothers?” 

“I mean- we’re not, like, siblings, you know? We’re not related, and- and it’s not even like El and Max-” 

“Do you not like me?” 

“No! I mean, yes, I mean- of course I like you-” 

“Then why aren’t we brothers?” 

“Steve,” Robin said, “Please control your kids, we need to find an escape route before we starve to death.” 

“Okay, boys,” Steve said, holding up his hands to get their attention, “We do not have time for drama when the world’s gonna end, okay? Just get along and talk your issues out later.” 

“We don’t have issues!” Dustin tried. “I just-” 

Robin held up a hand to silence them, and then they all heard a faint mumble from her bag. She slid it off and opened it, pulling out the walkie-talkie they’d used to talk to Holly earlier; she held up the receiver, and then they heard it. 

“That’s the message.” Will said. “Russian. There it is.” 

“Wherever that broadcast is coming from-” Dustin began. 

“It’s close.” Robin nodded. “Meaning whatever’s going on-” 

“It’s close.” 

“Well, and, also, we can reach the signal that goes to the surface and contact a rescue team.” 

“And then we can stop Mike from coming.” Will said. 

Robin nodded. “Come on, let’s go.” 

Joyce pulled into the hospital, turning the car off as she parked. “Everyone alive?”

“More alive than we would be if Nancy was driving.” Mike said, smiling a little. 

The group walked in, then, with Hopper in the lead, glancing back to make sure everyone stayed together and didn’t wander off, as several of them were apt to do. Max kept grabbing onto El’s arm, who kept looking up at her Dad to make sure he was alright. Joyce shepherded Mike and Lucas in front of her, and as she put a hand on their shoulders, she noticed that Lucas was tensing up, and Mike was starting to shake.

They entered the cold, white hospital, and Joyce realized what was probably worrying them. She whispered, “Hey, are you two gonna be okay?” 

Lucas nodded, grabbing Mike’s hand. “It’s different enough.” 

“Yeah. Different enough.” Mike muttered, running his free hand through his hair. 

They walked up past the front desk, where the receptionist was on the phone; they thought this might be lucky, until she stood up and said, “Now, wait a moment, who are you?” 

They froze, glancing at each other. Hopper moved forwards and said, “Listen-” 

“No, don’t.” Joyce whispered to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. She guessed that playing the police card right now wouldn’t do them any favors, considering how ticked off this woman looked and how Hopper’d probably been reported by now. 

“Hi.” she said, smiling a bit awkwardly. “Um, we’re- we’re here to visit my Aunt. Doris Driscoll? We- we heard she was sick.” the woman looked over her shoulder suspiciously, and Joyce said, “Um, this is my… my family.” 

The woman looked to Lucas, who waved and said helpfully, “I’m adopted.” 

“Well, I’m sorry, miss, but the hospital rules are two visitors at a time.” 

“Uh, if we could just-” 

“Two at a time.” 

Joyce inhaled sharply, but they didn’t have time to argue. She spun on her heel and said, “Okay, who wants to visit Aunt Doris first?” 

“Feel like it should be Dad.” El said, rocking slightly on her feet. “Since he’s, you know…” she waited until the secretary went back to her phone, and then whispered, “The police officer detective guy. He’ll know where to look.” 

“I don’t want to split up again.” Joyce sighed. “Maybe you can sneak after us?” 

“Doubt that’ll work.” Max sighed, crossing her arms. “Look, we’ll stay down here in the waiting area. You run up, set her loose, we’ll follow you out. Meet you in the car if need be.” 

Joyce sighed, turning to Hopper. He shrugged and said, “If you kids’ll be okay.” 

“We’ll be fine, Dad. We can take care of ourselves.” El smiled, before lightly punching his shoulder. “Let’s find the Mind Flayer, eh?” 

El and Lucas stood by the vending machine, as El showed him how to work it. “You put the quarter in,” she said, “And you press- D3, that’ll get us the KitKat. And then it just- son of a bitch!” 

The machine had whirled a little, and then gotten stuck. El kicked it, groaning. “Come on, you piece of shit!” 

“You said it dropped the food out for you.” 

“It does.” El sighed. “Sometimes it gets stuck. Help me hit it, might rattle it enough.” 

Lucas pushed it a little, and El continued kicking. Their assault on the vending machine only went on for a little while, though, as after a second, there was a slight vibration which made them step back, and then several bars and bags of candy burst forward, dropping from the door and towards the slot. 

They glanced at each other, and then over towards the magazine table, where Mike and Max were sitting. Mike was looking over, and quickly wiped his nose. 

Lucas shot him a thumbs-up and then went to grab the candy. El stiffened slightly, then said, “Thanks?” 

Mike nodded. 

El knelt by the candy, and as they collected it, Lucas said, “Max likes the chocolate, can you hand me that?” 

“Yeah, though she’s really into skittles.” 

“Yeah, I know, but she likes chocolate too, and I wanna give her something.” 

“Lucas, we’re waiting for my Dad and Will’s mom to release a possessed crazy lady,” El said, “Now’s not the time for gifts.” 

“But- do you think she’s still mad at me? I think she was mad about me telling Mike about Billy.” 

“She’s gotten over it by now, we’ve more important things to deal with.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want her mad at me.” 

El sighed, then glanced to Max, who was boredly tossing a magazine back on the table. “You like her, right?” 

“I like all of you.” 

“Lucas, be serious.” El sat cross-legged on the floor, dumping her candy stash on her lap, looking over at him. “You know she’s got a crush on you. And you’ve got a crush on her.” 

“Crush?” 

“I know for a fact you know what that word means. Stop playing obtuse. Just ask her out. I mean, maybe not while we’re watching the world end, but like- just let her know.” 

Lucas bit his lip. 

“Come on. You guys like each other. Just… talk it out.” 

“It’s not… like that.” 

“Lucas-” 

“It’s just…” Lucas sighed, then sat across from El, holding out his shirt to dump his candy into. “It’s not like you and Mike.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“I mean- we’ve only known each other a few months. You… you and Mike met and trusted each other and called for three-hundred fifty three days and always hang out and…” Lucas sighed. “I don’t understand things she says and things happening around me and I can’t- I sometimes think I’ll never understand and she… she deserves someone- and… and Mike and I both tend to protect. He thinks he has to protect everyone but I’m the shield, I’m the one who always kept us safe. And… and I don’t know if I can keep her safe. I want her to be safe so bad but she’s…” 

“Wild?” El guessed. “Untameable? Impulsive?” 

“I don’t know the word.” Lucas said. “I… I guess the word is Max. She’s… she’s free and strong but- but when things scare her, I don’t know how to help.” 

“You can figure it out.” El reached out, grabbing his hand. “Lucas, we’re fourteen. We can and will fuck up. Say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing- but we’ve got time. This isn’t the Lab. You can figure things out without getting hurt.” She flinched slightly. “I mean, yeah, monster from another dimension possessing her shit stepbrother, but… when that’s not happening, you can work it out. Hell, you can fucking ask her what she needs. You like spending time with her, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And being with her makes you happy?” 

“Really happy.” 

“Well, guess what?” El said. “She’s happy to be with you. So, go over there, give her the candy. I think this stressful-ass situation basically has granted you an olive branch.” 

“A… what?” 

“Just go, loverboy.” El giggled. “And do yourself a favor, do not follow Steve’s girl advice.” 

“Um, okay?” Lucas slowly stood, his arms still full of candy. “What about-” 

“I’ll talk to Mike, so it won’t be awkward or anything.” El said. “You go.” 

As she stood, and Lucas started walking over, El glanced over to Mike and sighed. She felt the candy in her hands, and wondered if maybe he’d given her an olive branch, too. She walked over, and said, “Hey, Mike, come here a sec, let’s sort through this?” 

Mike nodded, and they moved to the side-chairs, dumping the bags and bars out. She glanced over her shoulder, to see Lucas sitting beside Max, and then turned back to Mike, taking a deep breath. “Mike?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Look, I… I do trust you, okay? I believe in you-” 

“Is this about my powers?” 

“I just want to say- I’m just worried.” El said. She sighed, and looked over to him. “I really… really don’t want you getting hurt. Because you’re the bravest, kindest, sweetest, most wonderful person I know, and if anything happens to you I-” she shut her eyes. “Look-” 

“El,” Mike said, and he slowly sat down on a chair, staring at nothing. “El, I… I think you’re the coolest person in the world. And I have to protect you- and Lucas, and Max, and Dustin and Will and- and everyone. I have this… I can do these things, I should be able to use them to- and now the Shadow is doing this because I didn’t do a good enough job closing the Gate-” 

“This is not your fault, Michael Wheeler.” El said. She slid onto the seat next to him, grabbing his hand. “Look at me. Not the Gate, not the Monster, nothing. Who made you open the Gate?” 

Mike sighed. “Papa. And the Bad Men.” 

“And who’s the one eating people?” 

“Demogorgon.” 

“It’s not you. It was never you.” El sighed. “If I had that power, and they’d kidnapped me, the same thing would happen.” 

Mike’s eyes hardened, and he squeezed her palm. “If they took you, I’d rip the lab apart brick by brick.” 

El smiled, and then said, “And if someone takes you away, I’ll do the same, powers or no powers.” 

He smiled, and then looked over at Max and Lucas. “El? Are they okay?” 

“Hey.” Lucas said. 

“Hey.” Max said. 

They sat beside each other as Mike and El left, and then Lucas handed out a fistful of candy. “Do you want some?” 

“Uh, sure.” Max glanced over at him, holding out her hand. 

He put some Skittles packs onto her open palm, and said, “El said you have an olive branch.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know.” Lucas bit his lip. “I was hoping you knew?” 

Max thought a moment, and then laughed a little. “El, oh my God.” 

“What is it?” 

“An olive branch is a symbol of peace after anger.” Max said, swiveling around in the chair to face him, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. “And I’m not mad.” 

“You were before.” 

“Well, a lot has happened. Put things in perspective.” Max sighed. “I just… didn’t want to believe Billy could be-” she shut her eyes. “Did I tell you that he’s been my stepbrother since I was… maybe around six?” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. He’s… basically my brother.” Max sighed. “Even if he only acts like it sometimes.” 

“He hurt you.” 

“People hurt each other.” Max whispered. “And… and people hurt him.” 

“People hurt me.” Lucas said. “And you. And we’re not hurting anyone else.” 

Max sighed. “I guess. I just… it used to be easier.” 

“Easier?” 

“Hating him. Just pure hate. Not thinking about… his feelings. Especially when he’s a sexist, racist piece of-” Max cut herself off. “I just… maybe it’s the two years he was gone. Maybe it numbed me. Or maybe I got older and realized things were happening to him, too. And… and seeing him get exorcized- or attempted, it- I know how it feels, to have that thing inside you. Rotting, spreading… making you do things… and then you’re burning…” 

She shivered and then put her head in her hands. Lucas grabbed her arms in a gesture of comfort, and she laid her head on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” 

“No.” she admitted. “No, I’m not okay. I- I want to hate him.” 

“Max…” 

Lucas glanced back, to see that Mike and El were looking over at them. Mike started standing up, about to come over. He sighed, and said, “Max, we’re all here for you.” 

“I know…” 

Mike and El started over, and Max must have heard them, cause she pulled away a little, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She glanced over, and El said, “Is everything okay? We can go back if-” 

“No, I…” Max swiveled a bit, so she could face them all. “I wanna talk to Mike and Lucas about…” she sighed. “This is gonna sound really bad.” 

“Say whatever you need.” Lucas said carefully. 

Max looked down at her lap, and then said, “Do you ever miss Brenner?” 

El stiffened, and Lucas flinched. Mike clenched his fists, about to answer a resounding no, but before he could, Lucas asked, “Why?” 

Max hugged herself. “Because… I know he was a dick. He was the worst, he kidnapped and tortured you and- but… but he was your Dad, for a long time.” 

“He was never our Dad.” Mike said. “Dads take care of you.” 

“But you thought he did.” Max turned to him, and he noticed her eyes had gone a bit red. “He raised you. And… do you ever… do you ever think of good things about him and then- and then feel bad because he sucked?” 

Lucas bit his lip, and then said, “When I was younger, he used to do nursery rhymes with me. And he brought me books when the other scientists told him it wouldn’t do anything, it would just make me… restless. He taught me how to read.” he smiled a little, and then frowned a lot. “I forgot about that. But… you’re right. It’s… complicated.” 

Mike wasn’t meeting any of their eyes, but then he whispered, “We had a clapping game. And he gave me… these headphones, for when the alarms went off and I was in my room. And the noise got too loud.” He shook his head. “But that doesn’t make up for anything. And he’s gone, so-” 

“But…” Max shivered. “Is it bad if you miss him?” 

El squeezed Mike’s hand, and then said, “Max, what’re you getting at?” 

“I… it’s hard. To remember that… the same guy who broke my skateboard and pulled my hair… he also taught me basketball, and told me when Neil was getting drunk so I could go to El’s. And he also… he took me swimming and tried to show me how to surf while we were in California and I’d cheer him on, but then he also tried to keep me from having friends, and wanted me to be miserable.” She started rocking back-and-forth in her seat, the words rushing out. “He called me so many things, and- and I’d yell back, and then he’d- he’d throw me into the wall, and say it was my fault for disrespecting- and then I’d see the same thing happen to him, when he talked back to Neil. I hid his cigarettes for him and he convinced Mom that going to the Arcade wasn’t bad for me. And then he’d lock me out of the house and forget to pick me up and get blackout drunk and I’d have to climb in a window or sleep on the porch. We’d patch each other up, and then I’d have to listen to him and Neil talk horribly at the dinner table about- about anyone different from them. And I knew they meant it and it was awful, I wanted to throw up, I still do.” 

Lucas squeezed her arm as she kept going. “And I know he hurt me but… but sometimes he’d stand between me and Neil, or make excuses for why I was late, and I’d feel so confused because he’d hit me and scream at me and make me feel like garbage, and I know he’s not a good person at all… but then he’d still be nice sometimes. And… and I just don’t know what’s worse.” 

“Max…” 

“What’s worse? To…” Max finally burst into tears. “To cry over a monster, or not to mourn your big brother?” 

Lucas moved out of his chair, and jumped onto Max’s so that he could pull her into a tight hug. El and Mike moved forwards, too, all hugging her close as she tried to calm herself down. 

“It’s okay.” Lucas said. 

“We get it.” El muttered. 

When they pulled away, Mike grabbed Max’s hands, and waited until she looked at him, and then he said, “It’s okay to be sad.” 

“But-” 

“And…” Mike swallowed, and then said, “Sometimes I… I miss people and things I shouldn’t. But I still miss them.” 

Lucas nodded, as Max let out a small smile. “So, we’re all fucked up?” 

“All fucked up.” Mike nodded. 

They smiled, but just as they did, El heard a distant, muffled sound of a door slamming. 

She whipped around, and felt a dread start to rise in her. 

“Guys?” 

The elevator dinged, and as the door opened, Joyce said, “How exactly are we going to do this?” 

“Well,” Hopper said, looking down the halls for the right door, “I was thinking we open the door, and tell her to take us to the fucking shadow bitch or I shoot her in the fucking head.” 

“Hop.” 

“I mean, hopefully she’ll be up for it.” 

“You can’t just… waltz in there and expect her to be able to escape without a plan!” 

“I have a plan. Let her escape.” 

Joyce glanced nervously at a flashing light above them. “Why do I still hang out with you?” 

“Because we have no choice.” Hopper found the door, and threw it open, slight panic and impatience clouding emboldening him. “Rise and shine, Driscoll! We’ve got a- oh shit.” 

Joyce followed him in and quickly saw what there was to oh shit about. Driscoll’s bed was empty, the covers in disarray, and there was an overturned pot of flowers on the bedside table. 

“Where is she?” Joyce said. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Is this the right room?” 

Hopper moved to a file on the table, flipping it open. “Either it is or her medical history’s been dropped in some other patient’s room. I don’t see her getting released on here.” 

“Did she-” Joyce began. 

Then they heard a chilling voice behind them. “She’s gone home.” 

The two whipped around, to see Tom Holloway standing in the hall, cocking his head slightly to watch them. He raised a hand, dripping with thick, red blood, and then he smiled, “Nice of you to bring us our prize.” 

He grabbed the door and swung it shut. Hopper instantly shouted and ran for it, only to find it was stuck- something had been jammed against it. 

“Hopper, what did that mean?” Joyce said, even as she knew what that meant. “What did that mean?” 

“It means we need to get the hell out of here!” Hopper stepped back, and now the fear was showing. “We need to break down this door, now! Now!” 

El stood, creeping a bit towards the noise. Mike quickly followed her, and Max and Lucas at his heels, grabbing each other’s hands. El peered around a corner, and thought she saw a flash of a leg as someone disappeared behind a door swinging shut- the stairwell. Were those the pants that Joyce had been wearing? 

“Ms Byers?” she called. 

No response.

“Should we go after her?” Max asked carefully, still wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Maybe they need help.” 

“We shouldn’t be sitting here anyway.” Mike muttered, bouncing his leg. “We should be helping.” 

“We don’t want to get separated, and they told us to wait here.” Lucas said. 

El took a deep breath, and then said, “Party vote. All in favor of following someone who might be Ms Byers up the stairs?” 

Max and Mike raised their hands. Lucas sighed and then raised his. 

“Unanimous then.” El said. She gestured, and they moved to the stairwell. Max held open the door for them, and they went up, listening for the sound of footsteps above them- while they were too far behind to see who they were following, a mistake they should have noted, they could hear her traveling, and eventually they heard a door swing open and shut. El judged the distance and then took them to the door that the woman had likely disappeared into. 

Once they got in the hall, though, Max froze, standing stock-still, and then she doubled over. 

“Max!” El ran over, grabbing her sister’s shoulders, while Lucas let out a startled yell and put an arm around her, trying to help her up. “Max, what-” 

“He’s here.” Max said, her voice raspy as more tears sprang to her eyes. “He’s here.” 

“Well,” said a bright voice, “What are you kids doing here?” 

They turned, and saw Heather Holloway watching them, a smirk at the corner of her mouth and suspicious red stains up her arms. 

She looked straight to Mike and said, “Hello, Eleven.”

[imagines-dreams]

Tony’s Suit - Tony Stark Imagine

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Endgame spoilers, if that still applies, and mentions and nods to PTSD, anxiety, and death

Summary: The night before you have to time travel to save the world, you’re up checking everyone’s equipment. Your husband’s included. But something’s not quite right.

Word Count: 1784

Notes: I wrote this in an hour and didn’t edit it but I have feelings about that interview and this is how I deal with them so.... enjoy!

For once in your life, you were the one working well into the night and your husband was sound asleep. To be fair, he had stayed up for the past few nights, working on this time travel thing and finding out where the infinity stones were before the big day. 

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply. 

The more you thought about the next day, the more anxious you got. The Avengers were going to attempt time travel and maybe save the half of the universe you lost. You had only one shot, and lord knows it doesn’t always work out for the heroes.

You shook your head. No, you couldn’t think about that. Those thoughts were for tomorrow. Not now.

Now, you were checking equipment and suits, adding upgrades where you could. Ordering Friday to strengthen Steve’s suit, it had been worn and torn a bit. Restocking Clint’s arrows and telling any awake employees to find as many as they could. Never hurt to bring extra.

Then, yours. Tony told you that he had checked yours and his already, but it couldn’t hurt to double check. It wasn’t like you were going to sleep anyway.

You checked the stats on your Rescue suit. Not too bad. A bit much on the defense system, but you couldn’t complain. Tony built the suit for you, his wife, after all. You wouldn’t expect anything less. You recalibrated the suit, made sure you were comfortable moving around in it and got familiar with the different weapons before stepping out and smiling at it. 

Tony really outdoes himself sometimes.

Then, to his suit and that damn gauntlet. 

Tony had improved his suits since the Mark 1. From new foot thrusters to nanotech, your brain kept telling you that you wouldn’t be able to improve the gauntlet or the suit. You knew you were smart, but Tony smart? Nah, that was his thing. 

So surely, his suit would be fine.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to check. 

Gauntlet held up to what it should. It was the best he could build. Sturdy, dense, it was the best iron glove anyone could get that gives enough stretch and flexibility to snap and strength to at least hold off some damage from five infinity stones.

You nodded and put it away.

Tony’s suit. The Iron Man Mark something. 

…

Those numbers… They couldn’t be right. You ran them again. 

…

The same numbers.

You couldn’t be doing this right. You gulped. “Friday?”

“Mrs. Stark, the Captain America suit has been upgraded according to your specifications, and all of Black Widow’s-”

“Yes, thank you, but can you run stats on this suit?”

“Would you like me to bring up the numbers Mr. Stark recorded?”

“No.” No, you didn’t trust Tony’s written numbers. Not when he knew you could find them. “No, Friday, scan this suit, the one in front of me, and give me its current stats.”

“Mrs. Stark-”

“Now, Friday.”

“Right away, Miss.” The numbers appeared in front of you. Same damn numbers. 

You rubbed your eyes. Maybe you were just sleep deprived. Maybe you were hallucinating. Not enough food or water. You were just paranoid. That had to be it. 

“Friday, bring up Rescue’s stats, please.”

They appeared side by side with Tony’s.

Tony’s weapons and power were maxed out. Every weapon he could make nanotech was integrated into the suit. You could wave your hand, and it would become a tank.

But those numbers didn’t surprise you.

It was his defense systems. If Friday ran the numbers correctly, and she always did, your suit had a 7000% more effective defense system than Tony’s. He had a shield, sure, a good shield, yes, but the rest of it? 

Thanos tore the last model apart, and this suit in front of you was even weaker than that one. If he had to face Thanos, which all of you would have to do inevitably, he would be going in guns blazing. Nothing else. Just offense. Until he…

“Friday!” your voice pierced the night air, and if you listened carefully, everything inside the compound went still. “Wake Tony the fuck up and tell him to come here.”

“Should I tell him why you’re requesting this?”

“No.” You sniffed and wiped your eyes. “He’ll find out.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt so much that the soft cotton had become rough between your fingers. Your heart pounded against your chest, and the blood in your head rushed to accommodate the racing thoughts you couldn’t stop. 

Tony knew what tomorrow was. He knew that he was going to time travel and face Thanos again. He knew that. 

So why the fuck did he not upgrade his suit accordingly?

A part of you knew why. The sad, depressing, pessimistic side of you knew exactly why. It was the part of you that saw Tony threaten a terrorist on live television. It was the part of you that saw all the unread protocols and safety precautions. It was the part of you that knew it was Tony who flew into that damn wormhole, even though the footage was still gritty and the reporters said An unknown hero appears to have flown into a hole in the sky with a missile or bomb of some sorts.

God, you loved Tony. He was your everything, and every time he did something like that, something like not even caring to up the defenses on his suit, he never realized that he was carving out your heart. 

The worst part is, he wasn’t doing it selfishly. He was doing it for the greater good. For other people. For the people he loves and for the people he doesn’t know. For the world.

He just never realized that he was your world.

“Babe, I thought you insisted on having bedtimes?” He laughed but stopped. There was a silent pause, and you knew he saw the holograms and the statistics, and he knew you knew. He knew, and his first reaction was to bite his lip and sigh. “(Y/n)-”

“No.” You shook your head and turned to face him. “No, you don’t get to talk.” You wiped your nose and pointed at the numbers. “Seven thousand percent, Tony? Seven thousand? All the guns and whistles and a fucking tank, and no defense system.”

“I have a shield.”

“You have a thin wall of metal to protect you.”

“And that’s all that I need!”

“You need?” You laughed. 

“Yes!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve fought these guys before, I know what I need.”

You shook your head. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t lie. Not to you, (Y/n).”

“Yes, you do. Right now, you’re lying to me and to yourself, because, Tony, when you say that a sheet of metal is all you need to defend yourself against a titan who could get six infinity stones along with his alien army, what you’re really saying is that you don’t need to…” You couldn’t say it. You covered your mouth, and tears sprung in your eyes. 

Tony’s eyes suddenly went soft. He reached out to you, ready to pull you into a hug, let you cry, and bring you back to bed where the nightmares of tomorrow wouldn’t touch you.

Instead of falling right back into him, you shove him away. “No.” You sniffed. “No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to decide that the world is more important than you.” You took a deep breath tilted your head back. “God, Tony, the world doesn’t deserve you.” You smiled at him, tears in your eyes and nose stuffed, and you could see the tears and disbelief in his eyes. 

“Whatever it takes,” he whispered. “I need to do everything I can. If I don’t,” he shrugged, “then it’s on me.”

You bit your lip. You’ve been with Tony for years. You’ve been with the Avengers for years, and you know that no matter what you say, they always blame themselves. 

Still, you shoved your doubts and experience away and reached out to cradle his cheeks. “No, it’s not. It’s not all on you.” You rubbed patterns into his stubble and skin as if trying to ingrain your message there. You pressed a kiss on the corner of his lips and wrapped your arms around him. You heard the thrumming of his heartbeat, almost like a lullaby, a song you could sing no matter how long it’s been since you last heard it.

And when he wrapped his arms around you and his warmth surround you, you were back home. 

You giggled against his chest. “This, right here, is what I love.” You looked up at him and smiled. “Whether you like it or not, I love you, and, yes, I care about the universe and about the people we save, but I care about you more.” You patted his chest, right over his heart. “And if the universe offered me everyone in exchange for this, I wouldn’t take it.

“And I know that you’re already conflicted. You care so much about the world and that you feel like you owe it something. And I know I won’t be able to convince you otherwise, but let me just say, that you, Anthony Edward Stark, mechanic, nerd, husband, father, you are my world.” You shrugged. “So, if you’re not going to upgrade your suit, you better be damn sure that I will. Cause, Tony, you weren’t able to build a shield around the world.” You brushed away his tears. “But I will build a shield around mine.” 

You smiled up at him, kissed him, and went back to his suit. “Friday, analyze Rescue and bring up the defense mechanisms and protocols on the screen.”

“Of course, Mrs. Stark.”

Line after line of data and protocol appeared in front of you. You stared at it for a second before pointing at a line you were unfamiliar with. 

Tony smiled. “Friday, make copies of all compatible defense protocols from Rescue and transfer said copies into Mark 85.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Tony stood next to you and smiled. “If we’re gonna update my suit, we’ll need some coffee.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“No.” He pulled you closer and kissed your head. “Thank you.” 

Two days later, when Tony woke up in the Avengers compound, he was missing an arm, and his shoulder was a bit stiff, but you were right there, smiling and crying and kissing his face over and over again until finally settling on resting your forehead on his. 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep.

You laughed. “Told you so.”

[softuris]

nightmare on neibolt street || epilogue

beverly marsh origin story

bill + mike + richie + ben + eddie + stan

—this chapter includes mature content including blood and a lil violence ! please proceed accordingly—

🌱ART BY @mikeshoneyc0mb !! they worked so hard on the art for this series so give them a follow🌿

—————————————————————

By the age of 16, Beverly Marsh knew better than to continue to believe what doctors have been telling her for years. She had chronic Atopic Dermatitis, AKA eczema. But typically eczema doesn’t make your skin fall off in chunks. Beverly knew better. She was dying from the outside in.

She also knew better than to let anyone at school know. Her scars never faded, but instead got bigger. Scabs grew thicker and her patience got thinner. Long sleeves and jeans were always in style for Beverly.

Besides her condition, Beverly was normal. Her academics never suffered, and she was as social as a butterfly. No one had to know.

It was June 17, 2014 when she made her first visit to Dr. Rogan, a world renowned Dermatology. He promised to fix her, make her feel better. To this day, Beverly tries to forget what took place in that office.

Dr. Rogan was no more than a curious bastard, using Beverly like a lab rat. His tests including pooring chemicals that were unknown to Beverly on her wounds, ripping skin off prematurely, and worst of all, sewing her skin back on.

Her parents stopped sending her to school because, for lack of a better word, they were cowardly; Too scared to ask for help, to report their daughter’s abuse.

Doodling became her hobby, using Dr. Rogan’s pens to draw on her arms and legs, and anywhere to make herself comfortable.

Beverly remained his test subject for 2 years. Side effects such as vomitting, rotting skin, and sore limbs became everyday occurences by the time she was 16. Her face was dark, sunken in, and her limbs bent in unnatural ways. Beverly was dying.

Her parents became restless and unsatisified with Rogan’s work. For this they left Beverly, and moved across the country without her. Beverly was forgetting what loved felt like. She forgot the look of her face, freckles and all, without the large scars and scabs.

Above all, Beverly was naive.

“Am I pretty?” she would ask Rogan.

To that Rogan chuckled. “You’re my creation. Of course you are.”

This always left her perplexed. She wasn’t getting the answer she was asking for. She wanted to be feel better about herself with these visits, but she soon became aware she wasn’t.

Understanding why her parents left took a long time for her to comprehend. She was a monster. Scary. Even Rogan believed so, however he was the only one who claimed she still be beautiful. So she stayed.

“You are beautiful. You are my creation.”

“I made you. You are everything.”

While these words sometimes made her feel better, his abuse always left her empty.

Upon turning 16, Beverly took it upon herself to embrace the horrid: To express herself for what she was; Scary. She spent time at the parks, scaring the children and sometimes adults. However it was never enough. It never sat well.l that this was her. It never sat well that she liked it either.

Her efforts to scare everyone in her path stopped at Rogan. He scared her.

This made her upset. Beverly decided she wasn’t peak until she scared him. Made him uncomfortable. So she began seeking out the perfect plan to terrify her way out of his abuse.

———

“Beverly, darling, are you ready for your new procedure?” Rogan said, stretching the paper over the exam table for Beverly to sit upon.

Beverly nodded.

“Today, we’re going to try sewing you up with—,” Rogan paused, carting a metal cart to his side, “Non-organic matter.”

Beverly swallowed. “Like metal?”

Laughing, Rogan tapped her knee. “No no! Like synthetic fabric, my dear. Patch you up with something that won’t rot.”

He laughed again and suddenly Beverly couldn’t help the smile herself. After all, she hid a surgical knife, she has swiped from the visit, behind her back, firmly clenched in her peeling fist.

Rogan stopped laughing. “Are you ready?”

Beverly was used to the pain, but something about this in the back of her brain told her this would be the last procedure. When Rogan stuck her with the first needle, she immediately giggled. She wasn’t feel especially joyful, just full of emotions that had been repressed since she had first started visiting Dr. Rogan.

With each pluck and pulling of the needle weaving through her skin, she relaxed further, letting the pain completely disapate. Her only focus became her attempt of scaring him.

“Doctor,” Beverly spoke innocently. Her grip on the knife tightened as he looked up at her from his work on her legs.

“What is it?”

She paused. This line, these next few words would be memorable to her. The final boss.

“You might want to start running,” she spoke a little quiter, a big wide smile growing on her face.

“Huh?”

Beverly snapped her arm back around, the knife pointed at Rogan’s neck. Her arm shook as she held eye contact. “I said you better run.”

Eyes wide and fearful, Rogan set the needle and thread on the metal cart beside him, and slowly lift his hands up. “Where did you get that?”

Beverly chuckled menically. “I swiped it from my last procedure,” she hissed, pulling at the thread on the side of her neck until they snapped, letting part of her rotted neck slide out from it’s place like a puzzle piece and her head tilted from the unevenness.

“Fuck.”

“You made me the shoes....” she hissed. “I might as well step into them”

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean?” Rogan growled through gritted teeth.

“Fucking. Run.”

Rogan kicked out his legs, letting the swivel stool he sat on to carry him towards the door swiftly. In one sharp movement, Beverly slips off the exam table and starts toward Rogan, who is fumbling with the door handle.

“Scared, Doctor?” Beverly chuckles, holding the knife with furvor.

With shaking hands Rogan opens the door, and begins running through the halls of the empty hospital office. What had he done? What had he created?

Looking back over his shoulder Beverly is chasing him, her hospital gown billowing behind her with each step of her scarred bare feet. His heart was pounding, but he knew where he’d go: The front desk. It has a lock, and if he’s able to get there with time to spare he’ll be safe to grab a scissors to defend himself.

“Where you going, Doc?” Beverly sings behind him, menically. “Hm?”

He approaches the door and all but bursts through, slamming the door on Beverly before she is able to get to him. Throwing himself against the desk, he searches the desk for scissors, an envelope opener, staple remover, anything. His heart begins to slow when his fingers find a pair of green scissors but is quickly changed when he hears Beverly laughter from behind the door.

“Can’t hide forever, yeah. This is what you wanted, ahah. You did this to yourself,” she growled, pressing her ear to the door to listen for sounds of escape. “You scared yet, Doc?”

Adrenaline was coursing through Rogan. In his mind, his creation was betraying him. With sheer force, Rogan kicks down the office door just barely missing Beverly. He swings his weapon at her like an eagle, for her to swing forward as well nicking his forearm heftily. Rogan side steps away from a wall, awaiting her next strike on for her to kick right between his legs. With a loud groan, Rogan falls to the floor.

“Should’ve stayed runnin’,” she smiled, leaning over a defenseless Rogan.

Im an attempt to discuss the situation, Rogan lifts his arm, only for Beverly to pine it back to the ground, her body hovering his like a vicious wolf. “You won’t take anything else from me,” she hisses, before smiling aggresively. With quick hands, Rogan pulls at the stitches on her arm with haste, loosening the support between arm and torso. “No! No no!” she screams, scrunching her face up in anger. “You fucker!”

Rogan grabs hold of her loose arm then, and completley tears it from her torso. With a harsh inhale of air, Beverly falls to the floor beside the man she hunted seconds earlier.

“You shit!” he shouts, kicking her weak body away from his own. He sits against the hospital wall, desperately covering the large gash in his arm. Blood spills between his fingers as he sucks in another breath. He then decided to finish it. Destroy his creation. Destroy this—

Brat.

With hasty arms and rapid breaths, Rogan grabs hold of the scissors once in his hand, and staggers toward Beverly. Her rotted arm lays feet away from her, and her face is sunken in more than usual. His hurtful eyes, Rogan begins crying.

Beverly knows he doesn’t feel sympathy for her. Only his creation.

Bullshit.

As much as she wants to teach him a lesson, there isn’t anything she can do anymore. Slowly, she presses her eyes shut, bracing for the impending strike of her dcotor’s hands.

But then she doesn’t feel it, and instead hears a groan and a body falling in front of hers. Gently, she opens her eyes and see’s a boy. He is a muscular black boy, probably around her age, with eyes redder than her hair. In his hands, his mouth is bloody before he swipes his sleeve across his face. He wore a black cloak, black slacks, and white collared shirt. He was chilling, frightening, and though her heart was pounding from her encounter with Rogan, she was scared. Even then, she could tell this stranger was like her.

“Can you move?” he asked, holding a hand out to her.

Beverly just stared up at him, tears beginning to form in her own eyes.

The boy swallowed. His eyes found her arm beside her, and picked it up gently. “Is this yours?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Can you move?” he asked again, holding a hand out, and keeping the arm in his other hand. Reaching back out to him, Beverly shuddered. His hands were cold as ice, but something about him was warm. “I’m Mike,” he smiled, with teeth whiter than snow.

“Beverly.”

“Let’s get you out of here, Beverly.”

—————————————————————

taglist: @svsoftie @umm-whatthefuck @sadgayascendingbears @gothicbyers @strangerthanyou011 @m-m-m-max @mxckshit @hannarudick @finnyboywolfhard @sedanleystanley @heyspacecadett @tiny-tea @noahschnapp @eyeroll-uris @sophie-needs-help @jxckandrson @pigeondust

[boxoftheskyking]

Stranger things: Steve holds a pot luck fourth of July barbeque for the gang, everyone forgets to bring something except Jonathan, and El/Jane, who brings a shit ton of eggos. Jonathan and Steve finally reconcile, the party™ man the grill and somehow only burn half the things, and pizza is ordered by the only responsible person there. Star wars: Rose and the people she tazed before Finn got to her. Or the five times Leia was impressively patient and diplomatic, and the one time she wasn't.

Thank you for the prompt! As always I am going to take a teaspoon of it and then run into an entirely different direction, with much love and affection for you.

Here’s some Stranger Things, Steve POV, OT3

—-

Steve, if pressed, would say that they are fine. Him, Nancy, and Jonathan. He’d say they’d reached an understanding, and he isn’t angry and he doesn’t get acid reflux when he sees her kiss Jonathan’s cheek at his locker before heading off the class. He’s eating and sleeping just fine.

Not that anyone would press, as he doesn’t really have, well. Friends. Anymore. Besides the two of them and their gaggle of almost-freshman disasters.

A few weeks after the Whole Thing (the Will-is-Possessed, Dustin-Has-a-Pet-Monster, Dustin-is-Surprisingly-Okay, Eleven-is-Back, Mad-Max-is-Almost-Eleven-Level-Scary, The-World-Almost-Ended Thing), Jonathan cornered him outside the bathroom and said, “Look, man, I’m sorry about how it all went down.”

Steve had blinked at him and said, “I think it all went remarkably well, considering. Miraculous, some might say. Straight up Deus Ex Madonna or whatever—”

“No, I—” Jonathan cut him off, then looked down at his feet like he regretted it. “Machina. I’m not talking about all the, the that, I mean me and Nancy.”

Steve’s stomach lurched up, sending that burning feeling up behind his ribs.

“Oh. Right.”

“We should have talked to you. Or Nancy should have and then I should have waited. It’s just with everything—You know. It was kind of a now or never thing and then—”

“I really don’t need to hear this,” Steve said quickly, and Jonathan flinched. “I mean, it’s fine. You don’t owe me anything. I’d say treat her well, but I know you will, and if you don’t she’s perfectly capable of, you know.” He mimed a shotgun, making a dumb little pew sound. It sounded more like a Star Wars blaster than a shotgun, and he felt ridiculous. 

“Okay. Yeah.” Jonathan jerked a little, almost like he was putting out his hand to shake, but didn’t complete the action.

“Yeah.” 

They stared at each other for a minute, and then Jonathan started to turn away. Possessed by God knew what, Steve said, “It’s probably for the best, anyway. I should be focusing on school. Stuff. School stuff.”

Jonathan looked confused, but he wasn’t walking away.

“I’m not doing well.” He had no idea why he was still talking. “Like, at all. So. More time to study.”

After about a hundred years of Jonathan staring wordlessly at him, Steve finally turned on his heel.

“Great, okay, bye.”

“Hey!” 

Steve stopped but didn’t turn around.

“You can study with us, if you want. Sometime.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

And then Steve had fled.

It had turned into the occasional study session in the library, followed by a more regular meeting at the Byers house. After everything they’d gone through there, it was surprisingly comfortable, and he didn’t feel suffocated by their—whatever. Relationship. Love. Chemistry. Whatever. Not all the time, anyway.

Surprising himself—but not Nancy—he didn’t graduate at the very bottom of his class. He got in to Roane County Tech— “Everyone gets in, Nance.” “That is not true, Steve, and you should be proud of yourself” —which means he can still live in town and work for his dad while taking care of his generals. That’s the plan anyway.

And now the summer’s started and he’s feeling like he has to do something to memorialize the end of the most fucked up chapter of his young life. Hopefully.

So, a Fourth of July barbecue. Two years ago, it would have been the event of the summer, everyone who was everyone from Hawkins High, including alum, would have come out, and there’d be people from towns up to an hour away.

And now it’s Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids. There isn’t any spiked punch, just sodas and iced tea and a shit ton of Cheetos. 

Jonathan has brought nothing but his camera, though Steve saw him tuck a brown bag away beneath his chair. Mrs. Wheeler sent Nancy and Mike with a pan of hot dish which looks like death but mostly tastes like cheese and gravy. 

Dustin is helping Eleven cook Eggos on the grill, because that’s what normal looks like these days. Lucas tried to fight him for the role of “Grill Master” when it came to burgers and hot dogs, but Max had snatched the tongs away at the last second and proven herself to be more than competent. 

(About a month ago, Steve had a run in with Billy in the school parking lot that he thought was going to turn ugly. Before any blood was spilled, Max had zoomed up, kicked her skateboard up into her hands and glared her brother down. “Steve counts as one of my friends, asshole,” she’d growled, and Billy had spit on Steve’s shoes and taken off.

“Still scared of you, huh?”

Max looked around, then leaned in and said quietly, “Wanna know how I do it?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Every time he starts acting like too much of an asswipe, I wait til he gets really drunk and passes out, and then I sneak into his bedroom and I stand at the end of his bed with my hair all—” she shakes her head so her face is mostly hidden— “and I just point at him and stand super still. And then, Mike gave me this toy he has, this really sick raptor, and when you pull on it’s leg it screeches. So I do that so he wakes up and go all uggghhhhh.” She twists her head and bugs out her eyes, and Steve has to admit it’s creepy as hell.

“That’s fucking disturbing,” he says.

She grins. “He thinks it’s a nightmare. He’s had night terrors for ages.”

Steve wonders if the rest of the kids appreciate how lucky they are to have her on their side.)

Will and Mike are playing some variation of rock-paper-scissors that involves a weird amount of hopping around on one foot and yelling.

Every time he loses, Will gives a delighted little giggle that carries all the way into the house. It makes Steve grin every time. He doesn’t know the little guy very well, but it sure is nice to hear him sounding like a normal thirteen year old.

It’s also nice to see Jonathan’s private little smile every time he hears it.

Steve catches Nancy’s eye just then, and there’s something in her face that tells him she’s noticed him noticing Jonathan. She’s cocks her head thoughtfully, and Steve strategically retreats to the kitchen. He takes a few minutes with his head in the freezer before opening the fridge to grab a beer.

“Whatcha doing?” Dustin asks, and Steve just about throws his beer across the room.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Sorry. Whatcha doing? Can I have one?”

“No, you can’t have a beer.”

“Aw, come on, it’s not like I’m driving.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “No, dumbass.”

Dustin sighs. “Fine. I hope you’re prepared for a bunch of really sugared up and caffeinated kids, though. Because I for one have had six Diet Cokes and I’m not ready to quit.”

“If you have to puke, use the bathroom.”

Steve ruffles his hair and heads back out to the pool.

“Alcohol is a depressant, Steve! You’ll be wishing I was drunk in about an hour, mark my words.”

“Alcohol?” Jonathan is suddenly right at his elbow, and he just about has a heart attack for the second time in as many minutes. Jonathan doesn’t seem to notice, instead snapping a picture of Eleven tripping Lucas into the pool.

“Want a beer?”

Jonathan grins at him. “I can do you one better,” he says. “Think the kids will be okay for a while?”

Steve looks over the group, catching Nancy’s eye and jerking his head towards the house. 

“Hey, little shits!” he yells. “Adults are going inside. No drowning, no wandering in the woods, no setting shit on fire.”

“Okay!” Will shouts back before cannon ball-ing into the pool.

“El,” Steve says. “You’re in charge. Any nonsense, you come find us. Deal?”

She nods seriously at him, and he can’t not smile and give her a little salute.

What Jonathan has is a bottle of Vodka and one of club soda.

“It’s from that Baumann guy. The reporter who broke the story about Barbara. Well, the fake story.”

“Hey, man, I look no horses in the mouth.” Internally, he kicks himself. There’s something about Jonathan Byers that turns him into a complete idiot.

Nancy comes into the den with three glasses and sets herself down beside them, the last corner of their weirdo triangle.

They toast each other wordlessly, grinning at each other after the first burning sip.

“Damn, Wheeler. You make ‘em strong.”

Nancy blushes, but then takes a long swallow without breaking eye contact. Steve’s brain misses a step, free falls.

As Steve is pouring each of them a second drink, he notices Nancy and Jonathan having some kind of wordless conversation. The beer and vodka mix with the acid in his stomach and he doesn’t look up at them after handing back the glasses. He’s about to say something about checking on the kids when Nancy reaches out and puts a hand on his knee.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hey, Nancy,” he says, and waves, because he is an idiot.

“We were thinking. And talking. Have been talking. For a while.”

“A long while,” Jonathan pipes up. 

Steve looks down at Nancy’s hands. He knows how long they’ve been talking, because he knows how long they’ve been dating, and he really doesn’t need to hear about it.

“Something isn’t right,” Nancy says, and that makes him look up.

“What, like with Will? Eleven? Is that fucking—” he doesn’t realize he’s halfway to his feet until he feels Jonathan’s hand wrap around his wrist and tug him back down.

“No, man, nothing like that. Sorry. That’s not what she means.”

“I mean with us. There’s something not right with me and Jonathan.”

Steve stares at her. There’s no way they’re coming to him for relationship advice. Nancy’s reckless and Jonathan’s a spaz but they’re not cruel, they’ve never been intentionally hurtful. He can’t think of a thing to say, but he must get his point across because Nancy’s face crumples.

“I’m doing it all wrong. I’m saying it wrong. Jonathan, say something.”

Steve suddenly realizes that Jonathan hasn’t let go of his wrist. He looks up, and Jonathan is staring at him, brows furrowed, like he’s trying to read his mind, or figure out some kind of code, or maybe like he’s taking a photo in his head, taking note of the light and shadow and the way Steve’s heart has started bleeding out through his eyes. 

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but he shifts his hand down to clasp Steve’s fingers. Steve looks down at it, dumbly. Jonathan shifts again, sliding his fingers in between Steve’s, locking them together, palm to palm.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and his voice is dry and scratchy.

“I— Um, okay,” Steve says. 

Nancy moves her hand up from his knee, flattening her palm over his thigh. He looks up at her, then over at Jonathan, then down at both their hands.

“Wait. What?” He feels like he’s on the precipice of something, like he’s taking a timed exam and he knows he could figure out the answer if he just had more time, if he could just be in a quiet room by himself, not listening to twenty-five pencils scratching and the clock ticking and the teacher tapping her heel against the leg of her chair. 

Nancy takes a deep breath and slides her hand up to his hip, then up under his shirt. He stops breathing.

“Okay?” she asks.

“I— I’m not hurt.” He’s not sure why he says it. But he can’t think of a reason for her to— for them to— unless. “I’m fine. Guys, you don’t have to worry about me, I’m—”

Nancy lurches forward and kisses him.

For the first and only time in his life, he doesn’t kiss Nancy Wheeler back. She pulls away and her face is burning red. 

“Do you want—” she starts, then turns to Jonathan. 

Jonathan’s mouth is open, gaping, and his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip and Steve suddenly has something wrapped around his lungs. Maybe the monsters are back, maybe something’s behind him and has just punctured through the center of him, maybe he’s been dead for months and is only just getting the memo.

And then Jonathan is kissing him, and is still holding his hand, and he tastes like vodka and ketchup and something suddenly, finally, slots into place. Steve opens his mouth, probably to say something stupid like “Aha,” or maybe “Eureka” or “Holy goddamn shit,” but Jonathan slips his tongue into his mouth and he can’t say anything but a groan in the back of his throat.

When they break apart, Steve is pretty sure he’s having a heart attack. He can’t seem to catch his breath, and his mouth feels wet and warm and Nancy is smiling at him so widely and simply, no disappointment and no secrets and no shame at all, just happiness. 

And Steve says, broken and quiet and way too exposed, “Really?”

And Nancy tackles him to the ground, kissing his cheek and his neck and giggling into his ear, “Yes, yes, Steve, yes.” And Jonathan still has his hand, and he let’s himself be pulled down next to them, laughing, with his hair in his eyes. And somehow Steve has an armful of each of them and he shuts his eyes and breathes in, full and healthy and strong, it feels like, for the very first time.

[purrincess-chat]

Fluff Month Catch-UP NLS 16-22

Get ready for a lot of updates lol @miraculousfluffmonth

FF | AO3

Day 16

“Look Juleka,” Rose said cheerfully, and Juleka turned to face her only to duck awkwardly as Rose situated a flower crown in her hair. “I made one for each of us because the flowers are so pretty today.”

Juleka smiled, admiring her reflection in her small mirror. Rose would think of something this cute.

“Smile!” She sang, leaning in closer and holding out her phone.

Juleka’s picture curse had long been broken, and out of all the selfies they’d taken since, this one was probably her favorite.

FF | AO3

Day 17

Working at a coffee shop had seemed easy to Alix Kubdel, that is, until she became the head manager of one. She hadn’t exactly intended for it to happen when she started working there, but the owner like the way she took charge, so after several months she found herself with a fancy new apron and a nametag that had ‘manager’ printed over her name. It wasn’t so bad, and she thoroughly enjoyed kicking out customers who were too disgruntled for her liking; though, she was growing increasingly more annoyed with one of their new hires who kept making passes at her.

“Hey, short stuff, way to handle that customer back there,” He smarmed, leaning against the counter with a sly grin.

“Don’t call me that,” She said flatly, wiping up the counter. “And stop slacking off.”

“So, what do you do when you’re not at work?”

Alix took a deep breath and turned to face him.

“Look, I know I may not look like much, but I’m your boss, so quit the chatter and get back to work,” She scolded with a menacing glare for good measure. It did her no good as the boy, Kim his name tag read, only chuckled.

“You look fine to me,” He winked, and she felt her cheeks darken.

“I will fire you,” She threatened, but he seemed to sense the emptiness of it.

“Can you see the sparks flying between us too?”

“Kim!” She stomped a foot, and he leaned down to her level with a smirk.

“Yes?” Her fists shook at her sides as she fought for the right words. She hated to admit that his admiring gaze made her heart skip a few beats.

Crap.

“Go…clean the lobby.” She pointed a finger, and Kim’s gaze followed it.

“Can do, boss.” He saluted, adding in an extra wink as he passed her to grab the broom and a wet rag.

As she straightened up the register, she noticed that Kim had left a strip of receipt paper with his number scrawled across it, and her lip twitched a little as she stared down at it. Glancing at the lobby to ensure his back was to her, she carefully slipped it inside her pocket and sighed.

Stupid cute, new employee.

FF | AO3

Day 18

Kim sat back with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest as Max won yet another round of Ultimate Mecha Strike. Sometimes he didn’t know why he bothered to play with him, but he knew it was good practice for Max even if Kim sucked.  

“Another victory secured,” Max beamed, adjusting his glasses. He noticed Kim’s sour expression and frowned. “Why so glum, Kim?”

“It’s just not very fun when you lose all the time,” Kim said, picking at the controller.

“Oh…” Max slumped a little, pursing his lips. “We don’t have to play if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine. I know you’re having fun.” Kim waved it away.

“I am, but isn’t the point of spending time together that we both have fun?” Max turned to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“So, what do you wanna do?” Kim asked.

“I have an idea for something we are both good at…” Max smirked, and Kim gave him a quizzical frown, though he caught on as Max leaned in and pressed his lips to Kim’s gently.

Kim had to admit, Max had a way of making it up to him, and this activity was definitely way more fun.

FF | AO3

Day 19

Max had always felt a sort of connection to Kim that he couldn’t quite explain. From the very moment they met, something about Kim drew Max in, and it seemed the feeling was mutual because they became fast friends. People often gave them strange looks as they were a rather unlikely pair, but despite everything, they got along swimmingly. It wasn’t until they got a little older that Max began to realize that his feelings for his best friend extended beyond what he had always thought, and each time they saw each other, he grew more anxious to know if Kim felt the same way.

One afternoon, he finally felt he mustered up the courage when Kim was over to play games and watch cartoons. His hands felt clammy, and he felt his heart beating a mile a minute in his chest. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and shakily addressed Kim.

“Hey…Kim?”

“Yeah, bro?” His friend cocked a brow in response, glancing away from the TV to give Max his full attention.

“You and I are best friends, right?” He continued, shifting a little as Kim gave him an inquisitive look.

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Well, friends can tell each other anything, right?” Kim straightened a little and scooted closer.

“Is everything alright, Max? Do I need to rough someone up-”

“No!” Max cut in, clearing his throat and straightening his glasses. “I just…I wanted to say that lately, I’ve noticed that I think about you a lot, a-and I have pondered the reasoning behind that and come to the conclusion that I’ve developed feelings for you that extend beyond our friendship.”

“What do you mean?” Kim asked, eyebrows creasing a little, and Max curled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

“I love you,” Max said boldly, and Kim’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I’ve come to realize that I have always loved you. Ever since we met, I felt something for you that I couldn’t explain, but now I know that I care about you deeply, and whenever I see you, my chest feels so tight and-”

Kim cut him off with his lips, and Max gasped in shock but soon melted into Kim’s arms. The kiss was soft, and as Max pressed closer, he could feel Kim’s heart pounding just as fast as his own. When they finally pulled away, their eyes locked, and Kim smiled warmly.

“I love you too, Max,” He whispered. “Always.”

FF | AO3

Day 20

“Are you sure this will work?” Lila asked skeptically as Kim set their trap above the door.

“Totally. Alix won’t even see it coming,” Kim assured her, hopping off the chair with a grin.

“Won’t see what coming?”

They spun around to see Nino gazing at them curiously. Nervous glances passed between them and the bucket of water perched over the door, and just as Nino opened his mouth to speak, Kim took Lila’s hand and shoved past him.

“Run!”

Nino watched as they raced up the hall, snickering amongst themselves, and rolled his eyes. He supposed of all the things he could have caught them doing, pulling a prank on Alix was preferable.

FF | AO3

Day 21

“I miss you,” Alya pouted late one night, staring at her computer screen where Nino was eating lunch.  

“I know, but I’m only here for a few more months before I get a break to come and see you,” He offered, but Alya didn’t find comfort in it.

“For like a week then you have to go back to LA for eight more months until they wrap up filming,” She said pointedly.

“Yeah…” Nino pursed his lips guiltily. “Ya know, if you moved out here, we could be together more often. Being a director’s assistant means I’m gonna be over here a lot, so…why don’t we just make that leap?”

“Seriously? And leave Paris?” She scoffed.

“Well, Mari and Adrien are travelling all the time for her work, and I’m always in LA…maybe it’s time, Al. It’s not like you couldn’t find things to report in your online journal in Hollywood, ya know.”

Alya pursed her lips in thought.

“I can introduce you to celebrities. At that she smiled.

“Deal.”

FF | AO3

Day 22

Marinette was late. Again. If she didn’t make it to class in the next two minutes, she would get another letter sent home to her parents, and they’d likely ground her.

Darting around a corner, she collided with Nino, toppling them both over to the floor. Wincing, she sat up and found her gaze locked with his, and she offered an apologetic smile.

“Whoops! Sorry, Nino!” She said, standing up and helping him to his feet.

“Don’t sweat it, Mari. I know you’re a walking disaster waiting to happen,” He teased, jabbing her side and throwing an arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to class and make sure you don’t plow anyone else over.”

Marinette giggled and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Fair enough.”

[briannasroger]

Hackers and Hijinks (ch.1)

pairing: nalu words: ~4200 rated T for language probs.  note: don’t steal if you can avoid it, kids~ also, decided to publish this on a whim. next update? idk, but I know this won’t be very long. Four chapters max.  read on ff.net. 

summary: There’s thieves and then there’s Thieves. Know the distinction because while thieves might steal your pants, Thieves will ruin your life. Lucy Heartfilia, solo hacker code-name Ashley, has no reason to ruin anyone’s life till her odd new team takes up a job a little too close. 

-- aka the leverage au no one asked for --

Her computer was a beaten up old thing that Lucy had built from scratch and when she turned it on, it gave an awful sort of roar before she tapped the tower with her toes gently. It spluttered and then calmed to a low hum as it began to boot up. She straightened up, stretching her arms as she waltzed to the fridge on the other side of her apartment. It would take a gracious minute for Crux to load up and her stomach ached for sustenance after the lackluster food of her last job. Chips and bottled soda were useful in moderation, but for three days while she tried to crack a code that was prehistoric was disgusting. She pat her stomach, grimacing, as she resolved to do a few extra sit-ups in her workout regnum -- whenever she got around to doing that, of course. It was like they expected her figure to stay this way through vigorous workouts rather than healthy eating choices.

She considered cereal, just to be lazy and rush back to her computer, but Crux was still humming, the noise similar to a snore, and it was still on the logo screen. Perfect. It left plenty of time for her to make some scrambled eggs and toast. She mouthed a song as she made her food and when it was done a few minutes later, she deposited it onto a paper plate and made her way back to her desktop.

"Good job, Crux," she said, setting her plate aside to free her hands. Old Crux wasn't useful for missions on the go; it was too heavy and complicated for travel, but most of her work from home was done on Crux. With its extensive passwords designed to give her system time to delete anything and everything if someone didn't type one of the passwords right, it was the safest place in the world for her to keep record of things without fear of someone getting a hold of it.

All prepared, Lucy munched on some of her eggs, opening a document to write on and adding some information from her last job. Nobody required her reports, but she kept careful track of everything she did, from who sent her the job (Nab) to how much she got for it (10,000 jewel) to what she had to do (hack into some CEO's computer and send along the incriminating files to his now ex-wife's new business and then erasing all of it from existence) to how long it had taken (roughly three days, most of which had been spent erasing all of it from some websites that pushed her from performing a slightly illegal act to an entirely illegal act).

It wasn't a fun objective, but the jewel was worth it, especially since her rent was coming up soon. Very soon, she thought with a grimace, her eyes falling to the calendar where one week from today was circled in green ink. She didn't have quite enough and she didn't know if there was anything else for her to do in that short amount of time. Hacking wasn't as easy as it looked on television -- it required dedication, patience,

Lucy tapped her nails on the desk, shoveling a bite of eggs into her mouth, doing a mental tally of how much she had received in the last few weeks. Definitely, definitely -- one of her jobs had paid her quite a bit to hack to disable a security system long enough for one of their hand-selected thieves to steal a priceless harp and run for it. Lucy pumped the air, relieved, and whirled around in her seat to face Plue, a medium sized, white haired dog that eyed her with something like amusement. "Ugh, can you imagine if I hadn't done that job? I was worried about working with someone, but without it, I would be about 10,000 jewel short!"

Plue barked and then growled.

She frowned, turning in her seat to face him. "No, she didn't, I think I would remember that, Plue!"

He growled again.

"Definitely not, she wouldn't- OH NO, SHE DID!" Lucy eyes had landed on the computer screen, where her meticulous notes told her plain as day where a 35,000-jewel job was dropped down to 15,000. In the notes along the side, she could read the simple IDIOT in green text in a tab labeled notes. Lucy dropped her forehead onto the table, narrowly avoiding a collision course with her plate of eggs and wailed. "She only paid me half!"

Plue wagged his tail.

Lucy shot him a look. "Don't look so smug. If I get kicked out, so do you."

He whined.

"That's what I thought. C'mon, buddy, we're going for a walk and we need to move fast."

...

If there was one thing that Lucy hated about her lifestyle -- other than the fact that it was entirely unethical -- was how little she could predict the shortcomings for it. Nobody told her the day she ran away from her father would end up with her put those long hours spent learning the craft under a hand-selected tutor's eyes to good use, but not by creating top of the line security in a constantly changing market. No, she was using every skill and bit of knowledge to worm her way through each of those security measures her father loved. It was a fun job usually, her own pickiness kept her from straying too far down the wrong moral spectrum, but the money was few and far between no matter what she did.

It, perhaps, didn't help that her job had very specific requirements. She was a hacker, damn it, not the person who handled fighting people like a beater and not adept at adopting personas like a grifter and she couldn't pull off the dedication of a thief. Even in this technological age, most jobs required something of the other three and Lucy didn't really want to learn how to do any of them. Well, not to the same extent as others who fine-tuned the craft as well as she did hacking.

Sometimes she wondered if the lifestyle change from heiress to Thief (capital T because it wasn't the same thing as thief), but then she imagined her father fuming in his large, loveless manor as he tried to keep her betrothed in the dark and the hassle was worth the freedom.

"Come on, Plue, we're almost there," she said, trying to sound cheerful for both their sake's as she led him down a dimly lit street at midnight.

The cobbled road was worn and cracked, making her stumble often in her haste, but she didn’t notice as she picked her up again, eyes focused on an ugly, green-bricked building across the street. A rickety sign of florescent red hung from proclaimed it to be the tavern Twilight Ogre. It was a sign of her desperation that she made a beeline for the door, grimacing at the custom ogre head they had for a handle. She shoved it open, the creak of the doors like a gunshot, but nobody heard over the blaring sound of some sport playing on a television in the corner. The tavern was at full capacity for a Wednesday night, but all the better for her, that would mean her target was nearby. The woman only ever came in when the place was busy.

Her eyes narrowed, fingers fisting around Plue’s leash when he strained, lips curling up in a snarl at another patron’s barking dog. A dog easily twice his size; no doubt it would be taller than her on its hindlegs. If she hadn’t been terrified at the idea of wandering down a dark street with only mace and some rudimentary self-defense skills, she wouldn’t have even brought him. The other dogs would eat Plue in a heartbeat. She pulled him away, heading for a slightly less busy corner of the tavern and crouched to rub his head, murmuring soothing words till his growls dropped to a whine.

“I know, buddy, but we’re desperate,” she said, giggling when he licked her face. She shoved him away after a final pat and straightened. She scanned the crowd, passing over the woman in the corner till the sequin on her blue bikini flashed under the lights very briefly. It was just enough to draw Lucy’s attention back to her and grin. The woman smiled back, tightening a jacket over her top once more as Lucy stepped around a few people to reach her.

“People are going to ask questions if you keep showing up here,” the woman said, nursing a glass of booze. She was average height with wavy brown hair and dark eyes. Though the smile on her face was a picture of innocence, the tilt of her head suggested thoughtfulness. Like an animal examining a new threat. “I thought you didn’t want part of this mess?”

“I don’t. Whatever you and your team are trying to do with this place is up to you, I already gave you the files,” Lucy replied exasperated. “I’m not here as competition, Cana”

Cana’s face lit up. “Well, you never know these days, I heard just the other day that the Thunder Legion cut ties with the rest of their team.” Lucy bit her tongue, trying not to get drawn into the gossip. Then, satisfied that Lucy wouldn’t be stepping in on the current job, Cana leaned forward to say, “Even heard that Phantom Lord is heading this way.”

Unable to resist, Lucy dropped into the booth beside her. Plue’s leash was loose in her hand and any other time, she would worry, but he settled himself on her feet protectively beneath the table and stared out. “No way?” She asked, gaping. “They haven’t been seen this far north since-- “

“Since that whole issue with their element team getting their asses handed to them,” Cana said, smug. Her plans were the ones that lead them to it and Lucy didn’t bother piping in about her own contribution. There were some secrets that she would take to the grave and her ties with Phantom Lord was one of them. “They must have finished licking their wounds and are looking for new territory in Bosco.”

“Or maybe a job?”

“Nah, there’s too many people out here with game already and most of us know what they can do, nobody is stupid enough to call for them. Maybe desperate, but I haven’t heard anything like that, they would have gone snooping around somewhere for me to hear,” she said, tapping the table thoughtfully. “Bosco seems like the best bet, they lost too many good players to try again and nobody is going to trust a leader that loses his entire crew.”

“True,” Lucy agreed. Then she shook her head. “I’m not here to gossip!”

“Figured, you would have been more interested in the first bit. What are you here for?”

Lucy bit her lip. It was one thing to have the epiphany in her apartment among the comfort of her home and the desperation to keep things the way they were, but in the bar, confronting her, felt a little like Lucy was selling her soul to the devil. But then it would surely be a death sentence to end up on the streets now when her father’s nose poked out of every other sanctuary. Mind made up, she settled her hands in her lap beneath the table to hide the nervous fidgeting. “I… need a job.”

Cana grimaced, lowering her drink to the table. “I don’t have any for you right now, I’d have to take a look. And I can’t ditch this job for another day or two at the soonest, maybe a week at the most.” Lucy didn’t believe in teams, but contacts were a different story. The only way to make it anywhere in the world – whether that be the vapid politics of her father’s world or the morally questionably portion of Lucy’s – was to know people.

Lucy and Cana’s friendship extended to any last-minute hacking that Cana needed at the drop of a hat and Cana passing along jobs that her own team wasn’t doing or planning to do. They were both runaways, she figured that was why they got along so well, even Cana didn’t necessarily know about the similar stories between them.

“Next week would be too late. My rent is due soon and I’d still need time to do the actual job,” Lucy whined. “You don’t have anything?”

For a moment, Cana’s face was hard and unrelenting, but then a shadow passed over her face and she grimaced, ducking her head down. “I do, but you’re not going to like it.”

Lucy slumped. “I’m desperate, but I’m still not going to become a murderer.”

“What? No! We’re Thieves, not death dealers and I wouldn’t recommend a job that bad,” Cana said, aghast. “I meant that I have a team in need of a hacker since their last one ran for it again -- and you’d be perfect for this job.”

Again? How many hackers did this team lose on a daily basis? Wait…  

“A team?” Lucy’s brow furrowed. The last one she worked on was the whole reason she was stuck here, groveling for help, and she certainly didn’t want a repeat of that mess. …you’re not going to like it. She froze, eyes widening. “Oh, no, please don’t tell me it isn’t— “

“Yup.”

How desperate was she?

Beneath the table, Plue whined and she groaned, knowing the answer.  “Shit. Fine. Whatever. What’s the job?”

…

Meetings were, in her opinion, one of the worst parts of the job. First impressions were crucial and a bad one could make or break a job when it came to meeting clients – no one wanted to add a hacker that looked as though a strong wind would knock them over, not unless they had the notoriety of Levy McGarden, a hacker who was as deadly as she was small.

First impressions were easy with clients, she had managed to charm enough of them for the brief moments of speaking that she didn’t worry. But a team? People she would be working with for an indefinite amount of time?

She blew a curled strand of blonde hair out of her face, waiting for the rest of her team to arrive. After leaving Cana the night before, she had hurried home to set up a go-bag and Plue for a few days with her neighbor before collapsing in an uneasy sleep, waiting for Cana to send her the meeting spot. She had thought going to sleep at 7pm had been early, but when the text came at midnight to meet them after dawn at the port south of the city, she had been grateful for the extra sleep.

Not so much for the rush job to get herself ready to meet them with a portion of her gear in tow. With first impressions on the mind, Lucy had curled her hair and dabbled in her too expensive for daily use make-up before tossing on a yellow jean skirt, a fitted green tank-top, and her favorite pair of brown boots. Cute yet casual and - the most important part - easy enough to sprint in. She didn’t think Cana would set her up, but she hadn’t made it this far by being so trusting.

When half an hour passed without anyone’s arrival, Lucy almost bolted with that exact panic in mind. She held herself in place, poise in her stance, hiding the rising anxiety when the murmur of voices echoed in her ears.

Good news: Cana wasn’t setting her up.

Bad news: Cana hadn’t been joking when she said her team was with him.

“Hey, I know you!” He said, a fanged grin on his face as he left behind a scowling dark-haired man. “Not sure where. Have you stolen from me before?”

“No.”

“Have I stolen from you?”

“In a way,” she answered honestly, crossing her arms. “And I was hoping Cana was joking when she said it was you.” Her sigh made the other man laugh.

“Cool,” he laughed. “No hard feelings?”

She didn’t reply. It wasn’t the first time she had worked with Natsu Dragneel – it wasn’t even the first time she had worked with him this month. A note labeled idiot stood out in her mind, though it was hard to attach that thought with the cheerful smile on his face.

It was her first time seeing him in person rather than through pictures. He was taller than her by quite a few inches with the muscles and build of someone who could easily be a beater and she admittedly found it hard to focus when he wore a vest instead of a shirt, exposing his toned stomach to the world. She tore her gaze away, narrowing her eyes on his hair instead. It was a bright pink, spiked away from his green eyes – it was the exact opposite look for someone who was a thief. Maybe that was why he sucked at it so much, she thought, remembering her docked pay.

She added, “It makes sense that I’m working with you since it’s your fault I’m in this mess anyway.”

Natsu blinked. “Eh?”

“We worked on the harp case together. You know, the one where you went against the plan. I’m short on rent now,” she said, rubbing her face.

“No way. That was you?”

“How do you remember me but not from where? There were pictures of the team before you signed on!”

“I didn’t look at it much, I was more focused on getting the harp,” he admitted, scratching his chin.

“As lovely as this reunion is, we should get down to business, we’re already running low on time and I’d rather figure this out before we get on the train,” cut in the other man. Lucy blinked, remembering the other two. The man who spoke was easily the tallest of the team, seeming to stare down at them with narrowed blue eyes and an icy frown on his face. As though he could think of better place to be than here. A woman wearing a bullet-proof vest and a skirt stood beside him, a cool look on her face and a cascade of scarlet hair falling down her back.

“Fine, fine,” said Natsu. “That’s Gray and that’s Erza, they’ll be working with us on this job as well.”

Lucy froze in place. The name Gray wasn’t as familiar to her, but Erza Scarlet was a legend in her own right and it took everything in Lucy’s power not to squeal at the sight of her. She settled on a dazzling smile, hoping to convey her admiration for the woman in her handshake. Erza returned it firmly, crushing her fingers, and Lucy hid a wince, wondering what she had done to offend her already.

Then Erza smiled, a bright beautiful thing that transformed her entire face. It was hard to imagine that someone who looked so kind could beat up a squad of 100 men by herself. “We’re happy to be working with you, welcome to the team,” said Erza, releasing her hand. “I’m afraid I didn’t have time to ask Cana your name?”

“Pleasure. I’m Ashley,” Lucy said, the lie falling from her lip easily. It’s easier to use her middle name than trust them with her secret. They were thieves -- wshe didn’t know the price they would need to give her up, but she knew everyone had one. She shook her fingers, trying to regain feeling. “So, what are we doing? I wasn’t really told anything about the plan other than the fact that we aren’t going to murder anyone.”

“With Erza here, that might be a little unlikely to hope,” Gray muttered to Natsu, who nodded vigorously before seeming to realize who spoke. Lucy ignored them as they began scowling at each other, focusing on Erza instead.

“I need you to dig up everything you can on a man named Jiemma,” Erza instructed, sinking down onto the bench beside her while Lucy unfolded a notepad for notes. “We don’t know much about him, not even a last name, but he’s the current guild leader for Sabertooth.”

Lucy’s pen jolted, a blob of ink streaking across the page. Sabertooth was a well-known law firm on the outside, but everyone who was anyone knew it acted as a base of operation for a group of freelancers who did any number of jobs for money. Some within the bounds of the law, some not. It wasn’t unlike Fairy Tail, another group of freelancers, who specialized more in stealing back from other thieves; they were a bunch of Robin Hood’s. It was a mentality that Lucy could appreciate after escaping from her father’s uncompromising will, but a naïve one. People didn’t just join Fairy Tail, nobody even knew where they were headquartered. Hell, she didn’t even know people in Fairy Tail, she had only ever seen their calling card once.  

But Sabertooth… They were the only guild to be out in the open and it was well-known who the mastermind behind it was.

Lucy found her words. “How? I thought the leader was someone named Eucliffe.”

The smile dropped from Natsu’s face like a stone. The group shared an indescribable look, communicating silently with their eyes and Lucy glanced away from the uncomfortable team moment. She was aware, now more than ever, that they had been a team together for a while. Her contribution was last minute and in the dark. Her only job was to hack, to give them information – it didn’t matter who the mark was or why they were after them either.

“Never mind,” Lucy started, raising her notepad again to continue the debriefing, but Natsu cut across her.

“Sting’s the client, we’re here to clear his name and prove that Jiemma is a crackpot old fool before word gets out too far,” he explained slowly, adjusting a checkered scarf around his neck. Briefly, she caught glimpse of a large, faded scar that stretched from one half to the other, like a botched beheading, before it was covered once more. She forgot about it in the next second, biting back the urge to ask what Sting’s charges were, but half afraid that they would deny her the knowledge. Natsu, unnoticing or uncaring, continued, “It would be bad if people found out he wasn’t the master anymore.”

“Bad is an understatement,” Gray said, kicking at the ground, his hands shoved into his pocket. “Sabertooth takes the heat off all the other guilds, nobody is going to look any deeper than them if another calling card comes up, but if Jiemma changes the game for the worse like he is then people are going to dig more.” Lucy felt cold just listening to him speak; she wouldn’t be in any danger from Sabertooth, her work was too independent, but the worry in his words, so different than the emotionless drivel of his introduction, made her feel as though a target was growing on her back by the second.

“Which is why we need to know everything about him,” interrupted Erza, punching her hand into the bench. Lucy swallowed her yelp as the wood splintered under Erza’s attack in a shower of shards, but Erza paid no more mind to it than her companions. “The only other thing we know about him is a connection to Jose Porla.”

Lucy stilled, a blot growing on her paper beneath Jose’s name, trying hard to keep the shock from showing on her face. At this rate, her page would be less notes and more of an artistic statement.

Erza brushed the dust from her gloves. Like Natsu, she seemed oblivious to Lucy’s reaction. “Eucliffe reported that he saw them hanging around together often before his fall. They were last seen in Crocus, which is where we’re heading together on the next train. How soon can you dig up everything on Jiemma and Jose?”

Lucy cleared her throat in an attempt to appear casual and hoped that Gray, with his narrowed eyes, would fall for it as easily as his companions. “Jiemma might take a little while, he might be the master of Sabertooth, but if this is recent, then he likely won’t be in any of their official files yet. I’ll need to do an independent search from the get-go. Jose Porla though… I actually know him already,” she said, her words growing sheepish when Erza frowned. Natsu’s mouth hung open, but she couldn’t tell if he was paying attention to their conversation or not.

“How?” Gray asked skeptically.

“I’ve done a job involving him before that went south, before Cana’s team took him down,” she lied, shrugging her shoulders. Gray nodded, placated. “It’s been a while, a year or two, so I’ll double check what I know, but he was quite comfortable the last time I saw him and he isn’t the type to change his routine.” Her fingers tightened around the pen, but she forced them to relax. No need to broadcast that her last encounter with Jose Porla had been only a week before she had changed her identity from Lucy Heartfilia, heiress, to Ashley, hacker.

Natsu’s eyes were too excited for her comfort. “What do you know?”

“Too much to tell you before the train gets here. You know, it’s a good thing we’re going to Crocus already. He’s based in Oaktown, but he’ll be in Crocus for business around this time, most of his type are. Might be able to take them both down before the day is up.” And she wondered, briefly, if Cana knew a lot more about Lucy than she ever confessed. After all, who would be more perfect for a job involving Jose Porla than the girl who ruined his life?

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Crush - Chapter 19. The Ainsworth Project

Pairing: Eric/OC *Abbey* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M - slight trigger warning.

A memory from Eric’s past plays tricks on him. And it’s all about the girl, Abbey Ainsworth.

A/N: Okay, so this is the second to last chapter, guys. The last will be half the size of the norm, if that. Eeeppp. Thank you for reading.

Tags:  @iammarylastar  @badassbaker @pathybo@mimigemrose@frecklefaceb  @beltz2016  @ariwolff14 @lauraaan182 @kenzieam @tigpooh67@elaacreditava@equalstrashflavoredtrash@murmelinchen @feminamortem

Eric reads through the status report of the conditions of the Mess Hall. It's not an important job, nor urgent, but it still needs to be done. Now that they are back at Dauntless for the time being, he takes the opportunity to delete tedious tasks.

That is why he sits up against the headboard of his bed, one leg thrown out of the sheets as he smiles to the paper, wondering what Abbey's getting up to. He can't concentrate.

"Whatever the fuck you're doing down there, stop." He can just see the top of Abbey's head appear from the end of the bed as she tries to keep low, grunting as she does.

One line on the report annoys him more than the rest. "The seating arrangement?" he says exasperatedly. "A suggestion to rearrange the seating arrangement in the Mess Hall… Can you believe this shit?" He flicks the paper agitatedly and also annoyed Abbey still hasn't joined him back at his side.

Slowly she begins rising from the floor, a stern look on her face, dressed in his jacket. "Can you believe this shit!" she tries to mock his voice, failing miserably.

"What the…" Eric loses his trail of thought completely. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What are you doing, initiate?" She begins smiling, but it soon drops when his face doesn't change and she shrugs almost apologetically. "C'mon, it's funny. I'm being you."

"Well, that wasn't obvious."

Abbey grabs the opening to his jacket, pulling it further open to expose her breasts to him. "Oops." She turns around, flashing her ass from underneath it. "Oops. I guess Eric didn't put on his underwear tod-"

Eric's fast, jumping up to grab the back of his jacket and pull her down. "It's disturbingly pleasant," he hisses. "Stop it."

"You like it." She bites her lip, staring up at him from her wrong-way, upside-down angle. She looks goofy like this. "Admit it that it thrills you."

Eric rolls his eyes as he sits back in the same position as before, picking up the papers. "Go play dolls or something." He huffs when she begins straddling him, still wearing his jacket. "Abbey-"

"Play with me." His eyes flicker up past the sheets in his hand, trying to keep his cool. He's read the same line twice. "This little free hand here…" She takes it, manipulating his fingers to move down the inside of her leg. Eric furiously tries to keep reading. "…likes to keep warm, right, about, there…" She's right, she is delightfully warm and sticky as she presses his fingers to her clit, grinding herself along it until his tips slick across her hole. She pulls his hand back, bringing it up to her mouth, and sucks on his finger.

Eric loses the will to read. He drops the paper to one side, pulling her down until she's completely horizontal across his lap with her ass sticking up in the air. He grabs an ass cheek, pushing his fingers inside her. She arches up, looking up at him through her hair. This thrills him way more than her stupid little games; the control he feels, and her vulnerability.

Abbey's hips begin to jump but he pushes heavily down on her lower back to keep her in place, rather enjoying himself and getting carried away with the sounds she's making. He alternates between fast and slow, sometimes pulling his fingers completely out and palming her. With his own burning arousal pricking up painfully against her body across him, he loses the will to not fuck her.

Eric rolls her off and she begins opening her mouth to complain until he looms over her from behind, ripping the jacket frantically from her body in an utter state of emergency. Her legs part, the plump ass arching back up for him. The first thrust into an anticipating pussy was always the most satisfying. She mewls, and he shuts her up by pushing her head into the covers, using her hair to yank it back up. She begins giggling. "Fuck you," he tells her. "I have work to do."

"You're a busy man." With Eric's lips running across her shoulder blades at his set rhythm, it begins slowing to something far more loving. She can hear his breath leisurely change to a pleasant groan, a hand snaking around her to grab her breast. They weren't playing or just fucking, he was making love to her now – heavy-handed love, and she relished in it, in the same way he worshiped her body.

An eternity would never be long enough with him. Abbey smiles on the thought briefly, then lets her mind go, giving herself to him.

Max watches Eric and Abbey approach, hand in hand, in a humorous conversation by the looks of things as she swings their arms, her head falling back in laughter. Eric only acknowledges his waiting presence outside the Mess Hall when they get within a few feet.

"Hey, Maxy."

Max just frowns at Abbey, glancing at Eric in an unsaid 'Can we talk alone?' and a half 'What the fuck?'

"Hey, Ab's, why don't you go in ahead and I'll catch you up. I got some stuff to run through with… Maxy." Eric smirks at him.

"Sure. But I have to say, you look really well, Max." Max can't help but lift his cheeks as she gives him a blossoming smile before leaving him and Eric alone.

When she's entered the Mess Hall, Max punches Eric's upper arm. "Maxy?"

"I don't know, old man."

"Listen, I did manage to get some insight on Jeanine like you asked. Apparently, her sister's daughter is diabetic and I can bet that Jeanine has every intention of trying to rectify that, hence her interest. But at the same time, this is Jeanine we're talking about. Fuck knows what goes through her mind."

Eric scoffs to himself. "Seems like everyone around here has got hidden weaknesses." His tone is almost suggestive about what he and Abbey saw back at the barn. He still hadn't mentioned it yet. It really wasn't that much of a surprise. But Johanna… Oh, Johanna, he was going to make her sweat.

Max's eyes narrow only slightly. "Yeah, seems it. You still going to Erudite… without Abbey?"

Eric purses his lips, looking back to the Mess Hall doors as he shifts closer, lowering his voice. "I was going to go and kick up a shit storm. But, for once in my life, I don't want to lie… not to Abbey. If I go there and don't tell her and she finds out…"

"She'll think you'll be sabotaging," Max nods in understanding. "It's a sensitive issue, man. I wish I was wise to give you something useful, but I'm not."

"I know Jeanine is going to try and class Abbey as Divergent. She just fed her a bunch of lies about disproving it so she gets what she wants and then has something over me."

"I wouldn't worry about that. You have plenty of people here who would stand up and testify the obvious that she ain't." Max puts a hand on Eric's shoulder, motioning for them to go into the Mess Hall.

"Makes you think though, doesn't it?" Eric suddenly states, confliction etching onto his face. "What if everything we've known is wrong?"

"This is deep, man."

"What if there were people exactly like Abbey and I killed them?"

"You have to learn to live with the blood on your hands." Max shrugs, "I have."

Eric gnaws his cheek, not saying anymore as they share a small moment wordlessly. Eventually, he gives up the brain ache and follows Max into the Mess Hall. Abbey's sitting with Lauren, talking between themselves and he sits down next to her, watching as Abbey attentively listens to Lauren giving a complete rundown of Luka's embarrassing behavior. They eat together relatively content and then leave as a group.

"You're a bastard, you know," Lauren thumps Eric's arm. "I could have done without Mess Hall inquiries."

Abbey begins smiling, talking as if she was to a child. "Did you pass that to Lauren?"She implicates him completely.

"It might've fallen out of my folder when strolling by your office at some point today." His eyes glint mischievously.

"Well, no more accidental on purpose work. I got old shit I'm still covering from the wall. That's where half my afternoon is going." Lauren rolls her eyes.

"Are you telling me what to-"

Lauren interrupts him, shifting attitude into her hip. "Damn right, I'm telling you…" Everything on her drops as she glances over his shoulder. "Erm…"

Abbey's wandered over to a woman and small girl of possibly five or six. She's crouched down to the girl's level and it looks like she has been crying as she rubs her eyes and nods to something Abbey says. When Eric gets there, the little girl shrinks away.

"Oh no, don't be afraid. This is Eric. He is my husband." The little girl thinks over what Abbey said. Eventually, she steps forward and twirls a piece of Abbey's hair in her hand. "What is your name?"

"Sum-mer."

"You are very pretty, Summer." Abbey peers up to the woman standing next to her. "Just like your Mommy."

The lady scoffs. "I'm not her mother."

"Oh, sorry."

"Summer doesn't have parent's." The bluntness of her approach to the subject shocks Abbey to stand. "She's been orphaned for a few years now."

"Does she stay with you?" Abbey asks, feeling Eric touch her waist gently from behind her.

"No, at the small institution for children in similar circumstances like Summer. We have about a hundred children at the moment between newborn to ten, then from there they board at the education center."

"That's terrible. At Amity, the children join other families."

The lady laughs. "We are not Amity. Our influx varies year to year, depending if some of the mothers would like their children back after certain positions."

"I-I don't understand."

"Children aren't convenient."

Abbey's almost speechless. "I… I was told population is key. How can they be inconvenient?" She looks at Eric accusingly as if he already knew this. But he knew nothing and keeps his face passive.

"Maybe to the other factions. Especially to Amity. But here in Dauntless, we are a warrior faction. This is what people choose when they join this faction. They risk their lives… and sometimes those people don't come home. Other instances would be unwanted children. Life moves fast here."

"How can you…" Abbey peers down to the little girl's face. "How can you say that in front of her?"

"Summer already knows her parents are not coming back for her. Most of the children know the deal."

Abbey frowns harshly. "The deal?" Eric places a hand on her shoulder, trying to pull her back. "Please, don't tell me you know anything about this, Eric."

"I don't have the faintest. It's not something I deal with. And it's time we left so they can get on, Abbey." As he pulls her away, Abbey looks longingly over her shoulder, the same time the little girl does before they disappear down one of the countless Dauntless tunnels.

Abbey's not the same for a few days after. Eric notices the considerate expression whenever she thought she wasn't being watched; her eyebrows pulled together and the way her top lip would ever so slightly pout further than the bottom when she was really lost.

Abbey sent off a sample of blood works to Erudite under one of Eric's conditions that he didn't want Jeanine's poison messing with her mind again. Her protection laid in Dauntless. She was better here with him. But when she doesn't find the humor in him pulling out her ponytail one night, he begins to feel dejected.

She hadn't even slept with him since.

"Ab's, why don't you come to the training room with me tonight?" he suggests, kind of missing her stupid and sometimes irritating company.

"No thanks. I'm just going to take a shower and go to bed in a bit." Eric doesn't bother pestering or asking again, only double-taking on his hoodie swamping her frame and the way she knots her hair in some sort of bun on her head.

He knows though, when she's ready, she'll talk.

A week passes. Eric comes home to Abbey lying on the bed with a book in hand, and he throws down a blue folder next to her.

"What's this?" Her name is on the front when she turns it over and she peers between it and Eric for a moment.

"Your results." Eric stands in the same position, waiting patiently. He didn't know how she was going to react having been so quiet lately and seemingly troubled. It actually made his heart flutter slightly with nerves and his palms feeling sticky.

"Did you… read it?" She tilts her head. "Or is that a silly question?"

Eric sits on the bed next to her, sighing as he does. "Ab's, listen-"

Abbey scoffs, "It didn't work, did it?" She picks at her hoodie, pulling the strings on the front tighter, shaking her head disappointedly.

"In basic terms, the serums do work on you but your body flushes it from your system much faster than an average person before letting any of its productive effects take place. The same reaction your body has to medications and… other imbalances. But it can't cure, not genetic or natural illnesses." He reaches over and cups her face, leaning to kiss her quickly, feeling the small tremble within her lips. "You're a first. Maybe that would explain your extreme hangovers…" Eric smiles at her. "And if it makes you feel better, you're still special to me." His tone is playful, trying to lighten the mood.

"So, does this make me Divergent?"

Eric sighs. "Jeanine will think so."

Abbey stands up from the bed, moving towards the window while hugging her arms to herself. "You want to shoot me now or later?"

"That's just Jeanine, Ab's. There's confliction because your effects can be temporarily passed on, unlike Divergents… It's not even in the same league."

"I was valuable to her when she thought that I'd be able to help her find stupid cures. Now I'm not, I'm labeled as something that could have me killed."

"Nobody is going to touch you," Eric tries to comfort her, walking up slowly behind her as she turns towards him.

"I guess that means I can forget Jeanine helping us?" Eric looks to the ground under her scrutiny. "Good."

A frown begins forming along Eric's brows and he studies her quickly, completely confused. "You've lost me, Ab's."

"I understand now. I believe, Eric."

Eric thinks she's suddenly lost her mind. "If this is going to be some Amity bullshit-"

"Just listen." She takes his hands, leading him back towards the bed and the book she was studying, along with a notepad he'd overlooked. "Everything that has happened, has led me back here. I'm fighting nature, nature who is trying to point me towards something. And I believe I've found it."

"So, this is what you've been up to."

"Not at first, I couldn't think straight after that awful woman and Summer. And then it dawned on me. I've been studying the effects of long-term damage of parentless children…" As she talks, Eric watches her face light up, the way her features come to life, the flutter of her eyelashes as she skims through her notes. "The damage is lasting, creating significant problems through teens making most not follow their aptitude test and staying on at Dauntless regardless of what it says… Half of which these problems pass onto adulthood, creating a whole circle of reoccurring events of unstable homes… And this is just Dauntless alone."

"That's life," Eric says bluntly.

"No, baby, it's not." Abbey stands while shaking her head, beginning to pace in front of him. "My whole life in Amity I've nourished. I'm a florist. It's what I do. I've been granted an issue that affects me having my own children. I bump into you, two weeks before I'm due to marry someone else. I end up marrying you and being here at Dauntless. It's-"

"Fate," Eric mumbles.

"What?"

"Just something I thought of." Eric tries to brush it off.

"And then you ask me to rethink my job role so I can be at Dauntless." She hits the side of her hand against her other palm, sitting back down next to him almost breathless. "I know what I want to do."

"Abbey, have you really thought long enough over this? This isn't an 'in the moment' thing?"

"No, Eric. I'm one hundred percent certain." She takes his hand in hers. "Here's me saying I will never have any children of my own, but the fact is, the more I can help here, the more I affect their lives positively, the more children I've given my heart to is more than I can give to any single child alone. To me, that's being a mother."

"Careful, your Erudite is showing."

Abbey's nose scrunches up. "Did you know Johanna originated from Dauntless?"

Eric shakes his head, snorting. "You got all this information from Max." But to be fair, he had guessed her origin before just from the small flame the old wench held.

"He's a retired leader. He knew more than you because he was one of those children."

Eric kicks his boots off, scooting further onto the bed to lie back. "Tell me everything." As she begins her run-down, Eric pulls out his phone while she's deep in her explanation, texting Four his already typed message.

'Printouts of all Abbey's medical records brought to me. Wipe all knowledge and block Erudite from accessing Abbey's files.' Better safe than sorry.

The Mess Hall is a rambunctious place at the best of times but filled with Eric and Abbey and their friends placed around them, it makes it a hundred times worse.

"Eric just kicked my ass for ten weeks. I was sure he absolutely despised the ground I walked on," Luka explains.

"Erm, he did," Lauren begins laughing as Luka throws lettuce at her, nudging Eric who smiles to himself.

"Still do."

"Ah, c'mon, after everything I've done for you?" Luka holds his hands out wide at Eric's provoking.

Abbey stops eating, resting on her arm and speaks politely. "So how did you reverse this unexplained hatred?" Only for a second Abbey catches Eric's eye, her gentle smile warm as she played along.

"I told him the best joke ever, half way between him scolding me at ever approaching him and Lauren. By the way, Lauren liked me at this point."

Lauren shrugs at everyone, focussing on Abbey for the emphasis. "He could down a shot."

"Eric was the touchy one…" Luka's still talking as a Dauntless guard rushes into the Mess Hall, locating Eric quickly.

Abbey is pulled from the conversation just by the urgency and the sudden furious look flashing on Eric's face as he glances at her. He stands abruptly, the same as Lauren and the others like they all knew the drill, and they follow Eric out.

It seems the rest of Dauntless also wanted to see what was going on, The Pit dropping deadly quiet, and Abbey only picks up pieces of the conversation Eric has already jumped full ship on. "Who let you in? Why are you here?" she hears him ask. She can barely hear Jeanine's voice while pushing through the bodies, eventually catching up with Lauren and the thick-skulled twins on the edge of the man-made crowd that's gathered.

Jeanine addresses the crowd, a small group of her own guards standing around her. "I have a request for an arrest under the circumstances of possible Divergence."

Abbey steps forward even though Lauren tries to stop her. "Abbey, wait!" But she's too quick and Jeanine's eyes latch onto her instantly.

"The tests, that I volunteered for, prove the serums work on me, I just can't tolerate them. You're confusing the attributes of Divergence." Eventually, she comes to stand beside Eric while he sighs, obviously wishing she stayed hidden. But she had had enough of hiding. "You want me for nothing more than to experiment on, on an already outlandish hope you can cure your niece, and that has already been proved that I can't. So, the next viable thing to do is kill what you don't know." Abbey puts her hand in Eric's, speaking more to him than anything now. "We don't do that anymore."

Jeanine's face drops. "Perhaps you might want to put a leash on your little lapdog, Eric. She's showing you up." She looks to the tip of his boot and back, but he doesn't move, and she shifts uneasily in his threatening silence. Dauntless watch her with hungry eyes.

Taking an exaggerated inhale of breath, Eric pouts at Jeanine. "You know, I don't know how much clearer I can make things to you. As if my blatant ignorance wasn't enough, or the fact I haven't replied to any of your exponential reports for weeks, what's it going to take for you to realize that Dauntless don't take orders from Erudite."

"You're infringing on the laws, Eric. You will lose your position for deliberately disregarding the rules, especially to a member of authority like myself."

Eric smirks dangerously at Jeanine. "I'm infringing on nothing. This arrest is for an inaptly selfish reason, proved by your own studies that she isn't Divergent."

"The arrest still stands. And you can say goodbye to Leadership should you defy me further."

Eric kisses his teeth. "You see, that threat doesn't sit well with me. In fact, your entire presence in front of me, accusing my wife, in front of my faction, standing there like you have every right to, doesn't sit well with me, at all."

"Try and intimidate me all you like, but she's under arrest until we've completed our investigation," Jeanine says smugly. "A bunch of bloods is far from the real thing. I need a full body exam. And also without the threat of the details being blocked, Eric."

"You are such a liar!" Abbey's words echo, expressed simply but innocently, and Eric puts his arm out to push her back. "She gave false hope. She told me herself she didn't think I was. Why? Why are you doing this?"

"You are a threat to society. We don't fully understand what this is or what this means. You are dangerous." Jeanine turns to the Dauntless watching. "We let one slip through and this is what happens. Anarchy."

"Cut your bullshit, Jeanine," Eric spits. "She isn't going anywhere. Now show yourselves out before I kick you out myself."

"If she wasn't a pretty face, able to hop into your bed, would we be right here, right now? Or would she already be long dead the moment you found out?" Jeanine brings up an electronic pad, beginning to skim through it idly. "Perhaps we should just wait until you get bored." She tilts her head mockingly, eyes still glued to the device in her hand. "You and I both know your bloodline is going to end with her and your patience is thin."

Eric sees Abbey step forward, but Jeanine doesn't. She lands a perfect fist to Jeanine's nose, everything she knew taught by Eric himself. His grin only widens while he crosses his arms, even when her guards raise their weapons and the Dauntless raise theirs in return. It's a total showdown, but Eric's more fascinated at the ferocity of Abbey. It must have hurt, she hides it well.

Jeanine pants in shock as drops of her blood leave her nose, staining her white blouse between her jacket, dripping to the points of her stilettos. "You incessant little bitch!"

"That is for preying on people's weaknesses!"

"I've ordered for you to arrest her! Arrest her, now!" Jeanine points to Abbey hysterically, but nobody moves. Somebody laughs. Eric guessed it was Luka. "I'll arrest her myself!" Jeanine grabs Abbey's wrist, pulling her forward. This was probably her sense of pride taking over her logic, a little trait him and Abbey still shared even now from their Erudite days.

Jeanine doesn't get to pull her far, Abbey throws back her arm, releasing her hold and making Jeanine stumble. "You are the one who is dangerous!" Abbey tells her sternly.

"Give it up, Jeanine. Your showcase of power ends here. And I think it's about time you scampered back to Erudite." Eric tries in vain to hide his humor.

"You'll regret this."

Regret. The cataclysmic bunch of words Eric held deep within him that played fruitfully through his vast relationship with Abbey. But this time, it was different. He wasn't going to regret anything. They knew the truth. He knew Jeanine just wanted leverage over him, her theatrics in Dauntless only to try and gain back something she lost from Dauntless months ago when they hid away and complained when the factionless was so close to shattering Dauntless. Maybe she would've even rejoiced it now if that did happen by the look on her face.

"Oh, I don't think I will." He directs a sharp glare to her guards. "Put your Dauntless assembled guns down, or be shot." Then he's back on Jeanine, a glint of utter repugnance slipping across his smile. "Take your briefly trained Dauntless guards back to Erudite. Read through your notes on divergence to remind yourself. And prepare for a long and lengthy debate on whether Dauntless will ever be prepared to cooperate with Erudite again. We will be waiting with anticipation for our monthly medical supplies as arranged, and if you shall falter, don't think we won't take what we need. After all, we are the muscle of this society."

"Are you… are you threatening me?" Jeanine asks incredulously.

"I think you have forgotten who you are talking to. I am Eric Coulter. The leader of the Warrior faction. The leader of Dauntless. And she…" he looks to Abbey. "Is my wife. Write that in your fucking notes." He snaps from the calm façade, grabbing Jeanine's jacket and dragging her across The Pit to the entrance. "You fuck with her, you fuck with me," he hisses only to her. "And that stands for anything related to us. It would be in your best interests to abide by my rules." The doors of the entrance are opened for them, one of the guards saluting Jeanine with a 'Good day, Ma'am.'

"Am I making myself clear?" Eric demands rather than asks as Jeanine clutters outside the doors, regaining her composure, haughtily pulling her jacket back over her shoulders.

Jeanine looks between the multiple faces watching her, every one of them scowling directly at her. She could almost hear the ghostly growl of the faction reverberating in utter loathing of her presence, feeling like the walls of Dauntless were beginning to close in on around her.

But most of all, she notices Abbey come to stand by Eric, crossing her arms with an eyebrow raised in question. Her warm and living supply of antidote to the serums, so close, but now completely untouchable. The work she had tried to conclude on her blood works was now lost. Her new discovery will never be claimed or known. All of those thoughts flashed in front of her eyes, and she blinks them away. After all, she was Erudite, and they were supposed to be smart.

"Yes."

The infirmary nurse wraps Abbey's bruised hand, getting the all clear she hadn't done any major damage. Eric enters the room when the nurse leaves, coming to stand directly in front of her as she sat on the edge of the cot. "Abbey-"

"What Jeanine said, hasn't affected me," she shakes her head with the words, peering down to her lap. "Don't worry."

"That's… that's not quite what I was going to say. I was just wondering if one night you, maybe, wanted to do a few rounds with me? Because that was seriously-"

She thumps him with her good hand. "You are so full of shit."

"My wife hit Jeanine and cracked her face. No man in their right mind wouldn't find that even a little arousing."

"You were great," she smiles up at him, brushing off his advances.

"I was great? She chats shit and threatens to arrest you and I was great? Plus, I'm kind of trying to hit on you under these difficult circumstances if you haven't noticed."

"You always had great timing. And your attempts are terrible. I noticed but didn't want to encourage." She grins up at him but it falters when he slips a hand over her cheek and cups her face.

"Perhaps I should be blunter?" He smirks.

She tries to shrug nonchalantly. "Perhaps…"

"Let me take you home so you can sit on my dick, Abbey."

"That's blunt… but no details. My interest is only half sparked." Eric begins leaning in closer, her head falling back in his hands.

Eric licks his lips and her eyes follow him. "You want me to go into details?"

"Right now, I just want you to kiss me because you look beautiful like this."

He chuckles at her airy voice. "Mood killer."

Eric likes their new arrangement better than he thought he would. At night they would now cook together after he got back from work. He would usually cook – remembering back to the burnt bacon and eggs she once did for him as kids.

On the side next to him, Abbey would sit on the counter, rambling away, eating the food before it was ready or adding spice as they went. Sometimes they would talk about his work, sometimes they would talk about hers. Sometimes he couldn't even remember what they had spoken about. Sometimes he burnt the food because they got a little distracted. - Her fault.

But he knew more than he let on, making sure to keep an eye on her productivity and her piqued interest, acting like he didn't know.

"There's no technical name for it yet. Amity is pretty interested in finding a polite term to call it." What Abbey was talking about, was the children being fostered to families in the wide-open space of Amity, to have a fitting childhood rather than kept by blunt women in the back of the dark tunnels of Dauntless – the main thing she despised. They have their aptitude the same as everybody else at sixteen, and chose with a free mind at eighteen, encouraged and uninfluenced as possible by whatever faction. It was their choice.

In between times, Abbey was working in the education center with the older children that were there, and some agreed to try Amity. The ones that didn't, or couldn't because of health or complicated family matters, she visited every day.

It had filled a hole for them both…

But Summer was her favorite, she spoke about her often. And the day she went to Amity, Abbey cried openly in front of him after work, literally. She had stumbled in, stared at him for a moment, and then walked into his chest and stayed there until she was calm enough to explain.

"What about, 'for the love of Abbey'?" Eric suggests, smiling, and she hits him, grabbing the spoon and dipping into the tomato sauce to try it. "Ok, flower girl? Flower power?"

"You're not helping." She sips from the spoon. "This is good, Eric. Can you hurry it up though, I'm starving."

"Patience is a virtue, Abbey Coulter."

"It'll be Ainsworth soon after I divorce your ass for not feeding me."

The thought hits him. "Why don't you call it the Ainsworth project? Or act, or movement, scheme, whatever?"

"It's a little self-indulgent don't you think?"

"No other fucker did it. No other fucked cared," he shrugs, yanking the spoon back off her to stir the sauce.

"Not Coulter?" she asks meekly. "You don't want to be recognized?"

"Ainsworth has more of a ring to it. Plus, it's the Ainsworth in you that's gone ahead and done this. Only someone like you would."

"Like me?" she questions, and it stops him, turning to frown at her.

"You want me to spill some gushing poem lyrics or something that's sickly sweet?" She scrunches her nose up and pretends to gag. Thank god she didn't say yes, he knew none. "Okay then, just accept you're special." He pats the top of her head sarcastically, but she doesn't detest.

"The Ainsworth project…" she murmurs under her breath, getting a feel for the words. "Yeah, I like that…"

[kaoruyogi]

How to Win Wars and Influence Nobles (Ch. 10)

Rating: E for Explicit/NSFW Content! (Eventually)

Check it out on AO3!

You’d think a video game lawyer could just drop into a pseudo-medieval universe filled with magic and demons and be totally okay with it, right?

Nah.

In the wake of her brother, Spencer’s, disappearance, Belle dropped into Thedas with luggage, but without a clue. After a brief but memorable panic attack, she resolved to be the best goddamn lawyer Thedas had ever seen. Even if she was the only goddamn lawyer Thedas had ever seen. And even if that obstinate asshole, Cullen, wouldn’t stop giving her the side-eye every time she walked into a room…Or every time he walked into a room with her in it…Or every time they walked into a room together…Or–Fuck it. You get it.

Chapter 10: Run to Her

Cullen,

It seems your informants were correct. There is evidence of red lyrium smuggling in the Emerald Graves that points to a source in Emprise Du Lion. We will be heading there on our way back to Skyhold. One of the letters also mentioned Samson, and though I think it unlikely we will locate him in a quarry in the snow, I will be sure to keep you informed as to what we find.

Max

PS: How is Josephine?

Inquisit Max,

Thank you for your report. I must admit I am pleased to learn that Leliana is not the only one in Skyhold capable of uncovering important information. I agree that it is unlikely you will find Samson in Emprise Du Lion. He was never one for the cold. However, I am concerned as to what you will find there. Reports from the area have been muddled, at best.

Commander Cullen Rutherford

PS: Josephine is well. She left angrily for Val Royeaux just after you did, but she came back in good spirits. Of course, she also has Belle to keep her company and aid her in her work. They have taken to speaking to each other in Antivan, and I confess that I now find it rather unsettling when they laugh.

 Cullen,

The Red Templar presence in Emprise Du Lion is almost overwhelming. They are posted along every route from the town of Sahrnia to the quarry, according to the scouts here. It probably also has something to do with the fact that there is red lyrium sprouting up from the ground just about EVERYWHERE. It’s been enough to make us all a little nauseous and lightheaded, which has made fighting and closing the rifts (it feels like there are a hundred) that much more difficult. We’re destroying as many veins as we can, but the stuff just seems to be multiplying.

It does not help me to remember that we must soon return to Adamant in the Western Approach to deal with the Grey Wardens and their blood magic rituals. All of Thedas seems to have lost its collective mind.

Max

PS: Don’t worry about Belle and Josie. I’m sure all they’re talking about is how devilishly handsome and surprisingly good with a sword I am.

 Iqu Max,

It is troubling to hear of the volume of red lyrium in Emprise Du Lion. Dagna’s theory is that it grows in places where the veil is thin and thins it further, which would explain the number of rifts. Please make sure to take all necessary precautions, and rest when rest is needed.

Everyone here is working to prepare for our march on Adamant, and Leliana has already dispatched several waves of scouts. I have taken the liberty of sending a number of troops ahead to Griffon Wing Keep to meet with Knight-Captain Rylen and train for the potential battle to come. Josephine and Belle have been reaching out to any nobility with access to troops or siege weapons, and have been successful in gaining numerous pledges for support. I hope to have made you more comfortable in continuing your work in the Emprise without concerning yourself with the tasks ahead.

Commander Cullen

PS: The Antivan-speaking ladies giggled like teenagers when I walked into Josephine’s office yesterday. My worry only continues to mount.

 Cullen,

Thank you for all your efforts, including trying to stop referring to me as “Inquisitor” all the time. It is much appreciated.

As you suspected, Samson has been ordering nearly all of the red lyrium from the Sahrnia quarry. Unfortunately, they were also testing it on a number of captives they managed to purchase from Mistress Poulin. We took her into the custody of the Inquisition and set as many people free as we could, but some succumbed to the poisoning shortly thereafter. In any case, Samson has been ordering the red lyrium shipments for delivery to a place called the Shrine of Dumat. Since I don’t know where that is, and since we’re fairly close to home, I shall be returning to Skyhold before we embark in an attempt to capture or kill Samson. I’ll see you in a few days.

Max

PS: I’m sure Belle and Josie aren’t up to anything nefarious, but make sure to lock your office doors when you’re out.

Cullen read over Max’s final letter. A headache was forming behind his eyes. Headaches formed behind his eyes every time he heard or read or thought about red lyrium. It made him sweat and remember lyrium’s sweet song and wonder what red lyrium sounded like inside one’s body. He had heard that it sounded louder and more inviting, that it was warm and burned the blood. That was a sensation he did not need.

His withdrawal symptoms had ebbed, but they had by no means ceased. The nightmares continued their little torments. They plagued him with dreams of horrors that turned into memories of horrors that did not fade or vanish for weeks. He still woke in pools of his own sweat, though the sometimes nightly evidence of his withdrawal had all but stopped overflowing into his days.

Everything but the headaches. They ground dull pain into his forehead and his temples and the backs of his eyes for hours at a time. They were worse when he had to train with the Inquisition’s Templars, who had lyrium flowing and singing strong and proud and tempting in their veins. He tried to limit his time to the Knight-Captains, allowing them to train the knights and recruits, as much as it pained him to give up his leadership to them.

Max’s letters worried Cullen. The amount of red lyrium sprouting from the earth and from the Red Templars in Emprise Du Lion and the effect it had on those who would be unsusceptible to the effects of ordinary lyrium spoke to its power. Cullen would be exposed to it again soon enough. There was no way he would be left at Skyhold while Samson was being captured or killed. He had to be there. He also had to survive it.

Cullen took little solaces where he could. He and Belle were friends, a thought that brought him insurmountable happiness in the moments he felt most low. They rarely argued, and when they did, she never stormed off. She stayed and discussed their disagreement with a level head until they were both satisfied. It was hard for her sometimes, as it was for him. He had seen her clench her fists a time or two.

He also got to be close to her. He got to touch her, in fact. It was always as her mock-attacker, and she always quivered and trembled against him, but he would take any contact he could get. That she still seemed scared enough to shake like that was puzzling, though she denied being afraid every time.

He would miss seeing and touching and hearing her while he was away. Max would be back that night, and they would likely undertake their journey to the Shrine of Dumat within the following days. Scouts had already gone and sent word back as to the Shrine’s precise location, and Max did not like to get comfortable at home when he knew he would have to leave again. He did not require the same commitment from his inner circle. He would be sure to leave Blackwall, Cole, and Varric behind when he and Cullen left for the Shrine, and had already sent word for Sera, Dorian, and Iron Bull to prepare for the journey. Max’s guard, including Spencer, would stay with him.

It pained Cullen to know that Belle would be without her brother and some of her closest friends while he was gone. She would still have Josephine and Leliana and that healer, Eudora, with whom she’d become so friendly. He supposed she would have them with her when everyone left for Adamant, too. The thought gave him little comfort.

She came to see him in his office that afternoon. Orlesian and Fereldan nobility were in residence at Skyhold, so she wore clothes designed by the same Rivaini tailor that had created her now bloodied and ruined ballgown. Cullen did not pretend to understand a single thing about fashion, let alone Rivaini fashion, but he could not fathom why every Rivaini woman he’d ever met had been so exposed. When Belle walked into his office that afternoon, it became clear. It was the doing of the lecherous tailors.

Belle wore a long, loose tunic of rich blue that made her look like a wildfire at midnight. The neckline sank down deep between her breasts, and would have been deeper if not for a flimsy cord woven from side to side into more flesh exposing gaps. Her golden and silvery charms hung there, pointing their misshapen hands down to the obvious cleavage between the pale swell of her bosom. She was an instant and welcome distraction with a smile on her face.

“How are you today, Commander?” she asked, rounding his desk and perching her backside on a little spot he’d begun to leave empty just for that purpose.

“I’m alright. I have a bit of a headache, but I am otherwise well.” Cullen did his best to look past her breasts and at her face. He failed for about two seconds.

“How could you not have a headache, sitting here in the fucking dark and reading people’s gross handwriting all goddamn day?” Her fingertips shuffled a small stack of paper in idle little circles. “You need to knock out one of these walls and let some light in. Get a big, pretty window.” A wistful sigh emanated from her nose. He wanted to slide his hand up her thigh and under her tunic and make her sigh again.

“Perhaps,” he said, “though I would feel less secure in leaving requisitions and reports out while I was away.”

Belle laughed her easy laugh, throwing her head back and exposing the curve of her throat and those pointed canines. “Because some asshole is just going to dangle themselves six thousand feet above the ground to see that we need more iron?” Her nose crinkled and her eyes closed, and she laughed again.

She made Cullen laugh in answer. “People have tried more daring things for less important information than that, Belle.”

“Well, what you call daring, I call fucking stupid.” She patted him on his plated shoulder as she stood. A silent panic fell over him when he realized she was leaving. His heart began to pound. His stomach went cold. His thighs ached with the adrenaline rush that demanded action. She paused beside him, stopping the heart she made beat for her. “Hey, how—Um—How did you…”

“How did I what?” He struggled not to sound too eager or too afraid or too disinterested.

“Nevermind. It’s nothing. I just came by to check in on you,” she said, walking back to the other side of his desk. “You should take care of that headache. Take a nap or something. I’ll see you tonight for the homecoming.” She waved over her shoulder as she walked away, the sway of her hips leaving him enthralled and crestfallen in equal measure. What had she wanted to ask him?

He did see her that night at the homecoming, as she’d become so fond of calling it. Belle stood between him and Josephine, who stood beside Leliana on the landing of the main stairway. He could have sworn he smelled the fruit and lily scent of Belle’s hair, a scent to which he had become addicted since they began training together. He had inhaled it over and over under the guise of exertion. His new intoxicant.

Belle hugged her brother tight. Then, as was her way, she moved on to hug Max. She said her soft words to the two of them before greeting everyone else, as she always did. Cullen longed to know what she said to them. He pulled Spencer aside for a moment.

“What is it, Commander?”

“What does Belle say to you and the Inquisitor when you return to Skyhold?” Cullen knew the question was reckless. It was made more reckless by asking it to Belle’s one confidant.

But Spencer smiled—such a different smile than his sister’s. “She always says, ‘Thank God my boys are home with me in one piece.’”

“Thank you Dolan,” said Cullen. “I appreciate your candor.”

“Anytime, Commander.” With that, Spencer walked off toward the barracks to bathe and eat, but not before patting Cullen on the back as he passed. It was a confounding gesture that bordered on impropriety and insubordination. It also provided a strange sort of comfort.

“Thank God my boys are home with me in one piece.” It was such a small thing, yet it was immense and warm and lovely. Belle loved her brother with her whole heart, and she had extended that love to Max. To her, the Inquisitor was family. She was unhesitant and unrepentant with her love such that she spread it about her with open arms and wide smiles.

To Cullen’s surprise, Belle hugged him before he left with the others two days later. She squeezed her brother and said something in his ear. Then she squeezed Max and said something in his ear. When she came to Cullen, he was certain she would pat him on the arm or keep a respectful distance between them while she said her polite farewells. But she stood up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. He cursed his armor for keeping the feeling of her chin off his shoulder. He cursed his mantle for keeping the feeling of her breath off his neck. He cursed his gloves for keeping the feeling of the ends of her hair off his fingertips as he held her to him, full of trepidation and awe.

She was substantial in his arms. No wisp or waif of a woman, she felt full and whole and warm and real. There was a kind of softness to her that made him want to squeeze her closer, to wrap her up in his body. The hourglass that time and nature had made of her figure would have made it easy.

“Be safe,” said Belle into his ear.

“I will try,” said Cullen into her hair.

She dropped onto her heels once more, though she held his head in her hands. It was a gesture of intimacy and familiarity he had known only twice before. She smiled that crooked smile of hers, the left side rising more than the right. She said, “Do or do not, there is no try,” and puffed out a short laugh, her ocean and bronze eyes still locked on his gaze.

He tried to smile back, and he thought perhaps he did. He was terrified. She terrified him in a way that was foreign and incomprehensible to him. He had never been so afraid not to return home from battle. He was pledged to the Templars at thirteen, and had been instructed to be brave and courageous in the face of fear and death. He had cowered before, and felt fear and mistrust before, and he had acted in self-defense and with reckless disregard for the lives and souls of those he perceived as threats before. He had never, in all his life, been afraid of not coming home.

But he had never had anything to which he must return. Or anyone. Perhaps she was not his to return to, but his mind screamed that he must. He must come home to her.

He would come home to her.

*****

The Shrine of Dumat was a far and horrible place surrounded by sand and the stench of old death. Cullen heard and felt the red lyrium from miles away, and it filled him with dread. There had to be a mountain of it to hear it from such a distance. He was dizzy and sweating and nauseated before they reached the front gate. Max ordered his personal guard to stay out of the Shrine and keep watch, and seemed to take silent note of Cullen’s condition before opening the large gate.

Once inside, they saw the mountain of red lyrium he’d feared would be there. It sprang up from the stone and the earth in jutting crags that glowed and boiled the air within the walls. It also sprang up from the flesh and armor of the Red Templars lying in wait for the Inquisitor’s arrival. Cullen fought against them among some of the most skilled warriors he’d ever had the privilege to know. Sera was raucous and boisterous, and her arrows hummed and whistled through the air before striking their death-dealing blows. Dorian and Max used fire and lighting to disintegrate the Red Templars, leaving  small piles of smoldering ash with each graceful swing of their staves. Iron Bull bowled through enemies, shattering bone and red lyrium with his body and his war hammer.

The blood of one of the Red Templars splashed on Cullen’s neck during the fight. It seared his flesh and stopped his breath and made him vomit on the stone ground. He maintained only enough wherewithal to wipe the tainted blood off with a discarded rag before it burned into his windpipe. His skin blistered but did not break. This did not happen to anyone else when the blood touched them.

Inside the Shrine proper, not one breath of air was safe from the fire that had been set or from the sound and scent and sting of the blighted lyrium. It was no more a song than a cacophony of screams was a song, and it shrieked and clawed at him to succumb. He could barely hear the sound of Maddox’s dying voice telling him that Samson had fled, that the Red Templars had stayed behind and died so their corrupted leader could escape. The din of the lyrium in Cullen’s addled mind only served to enhance his confusion at the loyalty of Samson’s men. They followed him and died for him so he could help to destroy the world.

Cullen recalled the last time he had followed someone with such blind faith and obedience. He vomited again.

Bull slung Maddox’s lifeless corpse—that was all he was now, a corpse—over his shoulder and hauled him out of the burning building. Cullen’s guilt, the burn on his neck, and the screeching song of the red lyrium made it difficult for him to see or think or breathe as they left. They fled the collapsing Shrine with naught but the corpse that was once a tranquil that was once a man in love and a handful of tools. No Samson. Only death and destruction. Nothing new for Cullen.

He vomited three more times over the next few days as they traveled back to Skyhold. He could still hear that twisted song ringing, ringing, ringing in his ears and parching his throat. He could scarcely eat for the tune in his head. Dorian, Sera, Bull, Max, and even Spencer took turns asking after him and bringing him snacks. He did what he always did and told them he was fine and turned them away.  

He was not fine. He was spun up and tired and he ached. He ached in every way a man can ache. His mind and body and heart and soul were sore and wanting. He could not wait any longer to return to Skyhold—to return to Belle.

*****

Belle took Cullen up in an embrace again when their group returned several evenings later. She hugged her brother. She hugged Max. She hugged Cullen. “Thank God my boys are home with me in one piece,” she said to the three of them. She had included Cullen in her deific and divine gratitude, and his heart swelled up in his chest. It was almost enough to alleviate the nausea and the still-searing pain in his neck.

She tilted his head to the side before she went on to embrace Dorian, Sera, and Bull. She examined the mark on his neck with a critical gaze. “Is this a chemical burn?” she asked. “How did this happen?”

“Blood from one of the Red Templars,” said Cullen. “I did not know it could happen, and I was careless.”

She clicked her tongue in three little tsks and smirked at him. “You can’t be careless when you have no fucking clue how to be careful.” She shook her head and dropped her gaze a bit, smiling to herself. Maker, but she was beautiful. “Promise me you’ll have Eudora look at that after you change your clothes.”

“After I change?”

Her teeth peeked out from between her dusky lips. “You’re still covered in blood, and you stink. Change your clothes, have a bath—but be careful of that—” She pointed to his neck. “—and then go see Eudora. I’ll let her know to expect you.”

Cullen felt a smirk creep up his lips. “I did not know I’d relinquished my power to give orders here.”

“You didn’t. I just borrowed it for a sec. You can have it back after you go see Eudora. I’m keeping it until then.”

“Alright.”

“Well? Go on, then! Chop, chop! Scoot!” Belle shooed him away by flailing her arms in the direction of his quarters.

She was right. His mantle and breeches reeked of blood and filth, and he reeked as a result of wearing them for days. He divested himself of this rancid clothes and donned a new pair of breeches and a soft tunic. He did his best to hurry down to the laundry to give them his soiled garments before he had a chance to impart his stench on the clothes he was wearing, then rushed to the baths.

She was also right about the bath. The warm water helped to soothe his aching muscles and wash away the grit, visible and invisible. It was a catharsis of a kind to cleanse himself, body and soul. He lingered in the water, which was unlike him, but he needed the time to think. He needed to think about the Inquisition, about Maddox and Samson, about Knight-Commander Meredith, and about the man he had become. He thought about the man he hoped to be and the man he must be. He thought about the man his family believed him to be and the man he wanted them to know. He thought about the man Belle saw when she looked at him. He wondered whether she saw a friend or a foe, a brother or a brother in arms, family or a lover.

It did him no good to think on such things. For the moment, he was the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces. It was all the man he was meant to be until Corypheus was dead. He told himself this over and over as he dried and dressed, and continued to recite it as he walked down to the healers’ rooms to see Eudora.

She howled a bit when she saw the wound on his neck. “Whoo-oo, Commander! That is a nasty looking burn!” With her index and middle fingers, she tilted his head in a way that was just gentle enough to bely her no-nonsense demeanor. He liked her for that. She had a crassness about her that was comfortable and homey. “How’d you come by this, then?”

“It happened when I was struck by blood with red lyrium in it. Belle called it a ‘chemical burn.’”

Eudora scoffed and rolled her eyes. “That girl. Thinks she knows everything, that one. But she’s daft where it counts. I’ve a salve that should fix this right as rain in two or three days, since I know you hate when I use magic on you. And drink this down for the lyrium nausea.” She passed him a little vial of purple liquid.

Cullen shot the healer a suspicious look as he drank down the vial’s foul contents and as she turned to take a jar that was filled with a rather disgusting green ooze off the shelf. “What you mean ‘she’s daft where it counts?’”

She snorted, handing him the grotesque jar. “Fool girl can’t even see you’re arse over eyeballs blind in love with her.”

He froze where he stood. Caught. His jaw set itself in a hard line, and he glared at her. “What?”

Eudora’s expression shifted from just amused to amused and sly. “Don’t tell me you’re daft too, Commander. It doesn’t become your fine face and those bright eyes of yours.”

“I—She—I—” He could feel the heat suffuse over his cheeks and ears, drowning out any semblance of reason or human speech.

Eudora laughed her husky laugh, long and uninhibited. “You’re both up your own arses! Look, Commander, I have been around too long and seen too much to watch this foolishness of yours continue. We are in the middle of a war. Any and all of us could be blown to the Void at any moment. If you waste any more of the time either of you have, mark me, you’ll regret it for the rest of your days.”

Cullen was struck as dumb as the healer seemed to think him. “What is it that you suggest I do, then?”

“Andraste’s tits, man! Go to her and tell her! It’s well after suppertime, and I’m sure someone as in love with her as you so obviously are would know exactly where she’d be about now. So go there. Run to her, and tell her everything.”

He was still stunned and still frozen. His body warred with his heart and his mind, and his legs refused to move as a result. “I—”

“Go!” Eudora flung her arms out at him. When he did not move, she did it again. “Get out of here and go!”

Cullen wanted to say something before he turned and left, but a “thank you” seemed both insufficient and unwarranted. “Alright” would have been pointless. “Yes, ser” was wildly inappropriate. So he just left without another word.

He sprinted up the nearest staircase to the battlements, charging through the doors of every unoccupied room on the way back to his tower. Belle would be in her quarters at this time of night. She never stayed out long past the first hour after supper. Maker’s breath, Eudora had been right. He did know where Belle would be. As he barged through one door of his tower and set down his jar of green ooze, he hoped the healer had also been right about this course of action.

He would run to her. He would run to her and give her his heart and let her do what she pleased with it. Anything was preferable to ignorance. He passed through the door opposite the one he’d entered, keeping Belle’s tower in his unblinking sight. If she scorned him, he could banish her from his thoughts. If she embraced him, he would bask in the warmth of her affections. His heartbeat outpaced his footsteps two-fold. This was terrifying. This was utterly terrifying. He had faced down blood mages and apostates and Red Templars and Archdemons for Andraste’s sake, and this was more terrifying than all of them combined.

Cullen stopped in front of the thick wooden door that stood between him and the woman with whom he was arse over eyeballs blind in love, as their friend had so uniquely phrased it. His momentum rocked him back and forth from his toes to his heels, and he paused there. A final wave of terror washed over him, making his every breath shallow and weak and setting his hands to trembling at his sides. He commanded the largest standing army in Thedas, and he was crumbling outside the door of just one astonishing woman. When his nerves had released him enough, he did something he never did.

He knocked.

*****

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch Pt 3

Alright. This is a bit on the shorter side but it’s mostly angry smut so maybe that makes up for it?

As per request :3 @beautifulramblingbrains and @beltz2016

PART ONE    PART TWO 

Warning: contains language, violence, smut and… violent smut

It’s astonishing how the initiates behave like blind monkeys in a ball pit during training but seem to be able to do just fine when they get into a fight while unsupervised. Two boys, Erudite and Candor, are busy reconstructing their faces when we walk in and for once Eric has to shove his way through the crowd instead of watching it part for him. Nobody really breaks up fights here unless it’s getting too close to losing a member over a cup of chocolate pudding, but these aren’t members,  they’re initiates. There is no emotional attachment whatsoever and the morbid curiosity we all have has time to shine. Humans are extremely fucked up, if you think about it, I had months to reflect on that.

I grab the Erudite by the hair and yank his head down while simultaneously kicking the legs out from under him so I can straddle his back, pinning his arms down with my knees. Thanks to the shock of someone actually knowing how to hurt him he doesn’t put up much of a fight, even after he is pinned and had time to process what I did to him. It gives me plenty of time to watch Eric handle the Candor, who is so in the zone that he’s trying to take on a Dauntless leader. Again, we seem to get not only the brave but also the reckless and that usually equals stupidity. Eric sighs, dodges a sloppy punch with barely any effort and draws his fist back to knock the guy out with a punch to the face. And he didn’t even put much weight behind the movement, which in turn doesn’t help the fact that I am still soaking wet. Moments like this fascinate me because he is always so calm and controlled but if you look closely you can see the turmoil behind his eyes. Not just controlled anger, which is a beautiful sight to behold all on it’s own. He would have been a perfect Erudite and sometimes I do wonder how he ended up here, in spite of the obvious embodiment of what Dauntless now stands for. And why that Matthews woman was so interested in him. Still is. 

Maybe I’ll ask him one day.

After I’m done beating the shit out of him for leaving it up to me to figure out why the hell those two were fighting, he has to go visit his old faction and cozy up to their leader. During my time as ambassador I only had two official visits to the brainy faction, both things Eric couldn’t be bothered with. The other times he took care of matters and I have to say that I wasn’t really eager to deal with that woman - she doesn’t like me, and the dislike is mutual. She once alluded to me being a possible distraction for him and she does not appreciate any kinks in her well manicured plans. I laughed at her and left, because there is absolutely nothing on this forsaken planet that can stop Eric once he is set in motion. It’s one of the things I admire about him.

“So,” I spit, walking in front of the Candor with my hands folded behind my back, which seems to be an automatic leader gesture, “care to enlighten me why you thought it would be a good idea to try and murder your fellow initiate? A very pathetic attempt, may I add, but one nonetheless.”

The Candor is still beyond pissed, which is why I decided to interrogate him first, while the anger is still fresh. Once he had time to cool down and the anger turned sour he’ll just turn into a sarcastic little shit and I really don’t feel like slapping him around much today. I’m saving that for Eric.

“He was talking shit about my sister,” he growls and I stop in my tracks, unable to keep myself from shooting him an incredulous look. What exactly is it about faction before blood that these morons don’t understand? Every damn year someone is howling about their damn family like they’re all special little babies that don’t actually have to listen to a single damn thing we have been telling them and it drives me insane. This faction is far from perfect but if these inbred degenerates come in and refuse to even try we might as well throw in the towel and pick up a nice little retirement hobby. Maybe Eric can crochet or do a little bit of woodwork. I know he’d tell me he has some wood for me to work on because all men are secretly twelve.

But back to the task at hand. I chew the guy out for his transgressions and leave him to the kitchen staff for some serious cleaning duties,  I know that the place needs it badly. The Erudite fucktard can go clean toilets across the compound and that leaves me facing a wall of reports when I get back to my office. I could swear I heard Max giggle through the door of his office. He’s dead.

It’s way past ten and I’m in the middle of a little cardio on the living room floor when I hear the door. I’m not even bothering to acknowledge his presence because I’m still pissed, but if there’s something Eric hates it’s being ignored. Or disrespected. Or losing. Or people who lack ambition. Meatloaf Fridays. The list could go on and on.

I’m on all fours, pumping my right leg up and down in spite of the way my body screams at me. Pain can go suck it, I will win this. A different kind of pain digs into my hips and pulls me back against him, which is his way of demanding my undivided attention. I snarl and kick his thigh, which should hurt even though I’m barefoot. With a grunt his grip on my hips tightens and he lifts me up to turn me over, which I gladly accommodate, my legs wrap around his neck and I squeeze my thighs together, trapping his head. If I thought I had him I’m way too cocky and need a reality check, because he grins wolfishly and nips at me, grazing my clit with his teeth through the thin fabric of my shorts.

Using my abdominal muscles I push my upper body upwards, not my best move because my crotch is now pressed right against his face and Eric lazily trails his tongue over the fabric, causing it to soak through in mere moments which admittedly is not all him. My hands lift to yank at his hair but he knows what I’m up to and grabs my wrists, pinning then to my sides.  As far as brute strength goes he is always winning, especially right now, and he knows it. Suddenly the world around me tilts and because I was distracted by his mouth I’m not prepared for my impact on the floor. It stuns me for a few moments while I try to breathe and that’s all it takes for him to shred the shorts that I just bought.

With an angry growl I kick at his chest and send him on his ass, he didn’t exactly go flying but that’ll have to do for now. I pounce after him and twist his shirt collar just to cut off the circulation a little. My other hand reaches under me to find his damn zipper but he decided that I had enough time to enjoy myself and stands up,  his arm wrapped around me tightly.  Before I can bite at his neck more than once he turns me around and holds me in place by wrapping his arm around my throat, so if I struggle too much I’m cutting off all circulation and I can’t breathe. I still twist and kick, he slips his hands beneath my legs, humming appreciatively at the fact that even my thighs are slick and wet by now.

“How come you get so violent and wet at the same time, hm. Almost as if you’re some sick little bitch that gets off on it.”

Eric runs a wet finger over my lips, spreading my own juices across my mouth. I growl and bite his finger, hard, and he chuckles but I can feel his cock twitch where it’s pressed against my ass.

“Takes one to know one,” I grind out between gritted teeth, I’m angry because he so easily pins me, even though I know it’s due to my injuries, lack of training and malnutrition. He seems to really enjoy himself though, I suspect there aren’t that many women who can keep up with him even if they want to. I hear the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor and it sends a shiver of pleasure through me. That belt has played quite the role in our relationship so far… 

My moment comes when he pulls off his shirt, his grip on me loosens enough for me to twist around and jab him in the ribs. Using my full weight I push him down and he hisses when he tumbles backwards and pulls me with him so I’m straddling his lap. One quick snap of both our hips, perfectly synchronized, and he’s inside me. It’s almost eerie, sometimes, to see how we seem to think the same things, at the same time and then act the same way. It’s probably where the secret twin rumor comes from.

Not willing to give in to him so easily I bury my hand in his hair and yank, wanting to expose his throat to my teeth, but before I can lean forward his hand wraps around my throat and he squeezes. We stare each other down, I’m pulling, he’s squeezing and I rock my hips against his in a frantic rhythm, knowing that the release I’m looking for will be just as violent as this is right now. And oh so satisfying.

My muscles tighten around him and Eric hisses, his grip around my throat slipping slightly. It’s those little moments where his control slips that I’m looking for, that I absolutely fucking live for, because I know that he hates it when it happens. And maybe, just maybe, I’m arrogant enough to firmly believe that I’m the only one that’s capable of doing this to him.

We’re both slick with sweat and my skin slides against his, I let the nails of my free hand rake down his throat since he won’t let me bite him. His hand tightens again and my vision begins to blur around the edges, just slightly. Eric knows exactly how much pressure to use and when to stop, and I hate to admit it but it’s fucking hot. Just a little more and I gasp, I’m not sure if it’s the lack of air or the orgasm that suddenly slams my body out of this world that is responsible for my temporary loss of vision, but I don’t care at all. I want to scream but I can’t, all that comes out around the pressure of his hand is low and strangled and I’m vaguely aware of my nails digging into his throat. As I come down and my tensed up muscles begin to relax so does his hand around my neck and I take a deep, shuddering breath, moaning again as my lungs fill. I look at him, his eyes never left mine for one second since I slid on his cock and I grin, lifting my hand from his neck to my mouth to suck on every single finger to clean them, I did draw a little blood. Eric shudders and grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my bruised flesh once more. He keeps me down and grinds me against him, once, twice, before he stills and bites down on my shoulder with a guttural sound that makes me smile.

Without a word I get up and gather the tattered remains of my clothes, that I just bought by the way, and head for the bathroom, absolutely intending to lock the door on him. I’m still angry at him for disappearing to Erudite once more and for generally being an asshole, even though I can’t really fault him for the latter without being a complete hypocrite.

“Have you been to the infirmary yet?”

To my credit… I manage not to stop dead in my tracks, I manage to hide my shock fairly well and I keep walking away from him.

“You know that I haven’t, you’re keeping tabs on me. I’m going tomorrow, want to come watch them make sure you can’t knock me up?”

Eric mutters something I can’t understand and I roll my eyes, which he can’t see so it’s purely for my own pleasure. What an idiot. I slam the bathroom door shut behind me and make sure to lock it so he can’t follow me into the shower. Serves him right. I’ll probably pay for it once I get out, but that’s a risk I am more than willing to take.

PART FOUR

[jedifighterpilot2727]

Coffee for a Friend

I’d Watch My World Burn Just to See You Smile Ch. 2 So I got some awesome feedback on the first chapter, so I decided to turn this into a multi-chap slow burn.  Mostly from Lena's POV but some from Kara's as the need arises! I have the basic plot planned out, and it should go up pretty quickly *knock on wood*. The anger I feel towards the Supergirl Writers' room is fueling me lol. i hope you guys enjoy! side note - this shouldn't impact Eyes Like Kryptonite too much I still plan on filling prompts pretty regularly!

Any feedback is good feedback!

Read it on AO3- http://archiveofourown.org/works/9574310/chapters/21718151

“Ms. Luthor.”

Jess’ voice sounded through the intercom, startling Lena from her morning reports.

“Kara Danvers is on her way in to see you."

She barely had time get out a “Thank you, Jess” before Kara was bursting in the door, all smiles.

“Good morning, Kara.” She stood from her chair, slightly caught off guard by the reporter’s sudden arrival.

“Good morning, Lena."

She looked well rested for someone who had had a max of four hours of sleep the night before - although Lena supposed that alien physiology might be at least partly to blame for that. Her hair was pulled back in a half ponytail and her glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose. She was wearing a sleeveless dress that Lena tried not to pay much attention to, for her own sake.

“What brings you to L-Corp this morning?"

“Oh!” Kara jolts, like Lena’s startled her, before stepping forward and passing Lena one of the cups of coffee she’s holding.

“I brought you some coffee! Caramel macchiato, right?"

Lena nods and takes a sip, sighing as the warm liquid hits her tongue.

“Perfect, thank you.”

Kara smiles in return, but she looks a little unsure of herself.

“Umm, I just - I wanted to thank you, for last night. I was having a really rough time and I showed up here with no warning after practically ignoring you for two weeks.” Kara looks down at the floor, the hand that isn’t holding her coffee coming up to adjust her glasses.

“I’m sorry for that, by the way, the uhh, the ignoring thing.” She looks up then, blue eyes locking with Lena’s. “It’s no excuse, but I was so worried about you, with your mother’s plan and I told them you were good, that you wouldn’t help her-"

Lena felt a tension she didn’t know she was holding release.

Kara had believed her.

Kara had full confidence in her desire to do good.

Kara had defended her.

“-and then it looked like you were helping her, and the missile, and then I thought it was all over but it wasn’t; because you-“ She waved a hand helplessly, jaw quivering. “I know that I’m rambling, but what I’m trying to say, is thank you. Thank you for being you, and not giving into your mother. And I’m so sorry that I let my fear and insecurities get in the way of telling you sooner. I really hope that you’ll let me make it up to you."

Her heart feels so full, because she can’t remember a time that anyone’s ever apologized to her for - well - anything, and that fact that Kara’s here, now, in her office saying these things almost makes up for all the hurt she’s felt in these past two weeks.

“And how exactly did you plan on making it up to me?” She can’t stop the way her lips quirk upwards in a half smile.

“Well, I want to start by being a better friend, if that’s something you’re okay with it."

Lena almost sighs in relief.

“I’m more than okay with it; I think we could both use a good friend."

Kara smiles, and it’s like Lena added a new window to her office with how much sunshine sparkles in it.

“Would you maybe want to have a movie night with me then?"

“Movie night?” She quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah, just movies and dinner and popcorn and snacks at my place."

"Dinner, popcorn and snacks? Are you having a party?" She teases and Kara blushes.

“Well, sometimes other people are there, but lately it’s just been me.” She can see the pain written on Kara’s face and she resists the urge to question, instead asking -

“What do you need me to bring?"

“Oh! Nothing! Just yourself! And wine, if you want it, I think Alex drank the last bottle I had."

“Wine and myself it is then! What time should I be there?"

“Seven?"

“Sounds fantastic."

“You’re coming?” Kara seems a little bit shocked and Lena laughs.

“This may come as a surprise, but I’m actually a bit of a movie buff."

“Really?” Kara’s eyes crinkle at the edges, and Lena thinks it may be the cutest thing she’s seen.

“Really."

“Any requests then?"

“Have you seen Star Wars?"

Kara looks embarrassed.

“Actually, I have not - despite the bajillion times Winn had tried to get me to."

“You’re literally -“ she lowers her voice to a whisper, “- an alien; and you’ve never seen Star Wars?!"

“Nope.”

“That’s it then, we’re watching Star Wars tonight. I’ll bring my box set."

“You have the box set?"

Lena nods.

“So you’re even more of a geek than I thought! Do you have a pocket protector I can borrow?"

Lena pretends to look through her desk drawers.

“Nope, seems I’m all out, I should get another bulk shipment in on Friday if you can wait that long."

Kara snorts out a laugh, one that shakes her whole body and Lena can’t help but giggle with her.

“Oh, about the umm alien thing. . .” Kara’s voice is serious and Lena tries not to let it dampen her mood - she knows what this is about.

“Kara, I know I caught you off guard last night, and that wasn’t my intention. I can go back to pretending like I’m unaware of your extra-curricular activities."

“No! That’s not what I was trying to say! I just . . . wanted to apologize for not telling you sooner.  It’s not that I don’t trust you; it’s just - well Alex kind of freaks out when people find out I’m . . .” She lowers her voice. “. . .Supergirl. I’m glad that you know, it makes things easier, not having to hide it."

“I can’t imagine having a secret that big. It must be hard to hide away a part of yourself like that."

“Friends make it easier."

“Friends.” She repeats with a smile, one that Kara returns.

“Speaking of friends, I think I owe an apology to some of mine. I’ve been thinking about what you said last night, and I totally over reacted on James and Winn. They deserve my support and let’s face it, their chances are better if I work with them instead of against them."

“They’re lucky to have a friend like you."

“I’m lucky to have a friend like you.” Kara beams, fidgeting with her glasses again. "I should go, but I’ll see you tonight?"

“I’ll be there.” She promises, and Kara’s gone with a wave and a smile.

Oh god, this girl was going to kill her.

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

Kara’s heart is lighter than it has been in an long time as she flies towards the DEO.

She had forgotten how nice it felt just spend time with a friend and talk things out. No obligations, no pressure of anything more, just full and honest support. Lena had made her feel so much better about things, and she hadn’t been lying about the potstickers either.

Her stomach grumbles at the thought of food, and she makes a mental note to stop for a snack on her way back to CatCo as she lands lightly through the DEO aerial entrance, startled but glad to see James and Winn huddled over one of the computers at the command center.

Looks like she was going to get to talk to them sooner than she thought.

“Hey guys."

They turn, faces guarded, and Winn gives her a small wave before they go back to what they were doing.

“Can we talk?” She tries again.

“Is there anything for us to talk about?” James’ voice is laced with hurt and she winces.

“I need to apologize, actually."

They turn back toward her, Winn in his chair and James taking a seat on the edge of the desk.

“It wasn’t cool that you guys lied to me about the guardian, and frankly I’m still a little upset; but I was talking to Lena last night - "

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Winn holds up a hand. "Lena Luthor?!”

She gave him a pointed look before continuing.

“Lena was saying how I should trust you guys to take care of yourselves and each other and that I shouldn’t let my fear  of you getting hurt ruin our friendship. Not when you’re trying to do something so noble."

“That’s actually really good advice.” Winn observes, looking rightfully scolded.

“So I’m here to say that . . . I support you. And James, if you ever want to train in the Kryptonite room with me . . . I’d be honored."

“I’ll take you up on that.” He promises, before shooting a look at Winn. “And we’re sorry we didn’t tell you about Guardian. We shouldn’t have let it go on as long as it did."

She can almost physically feel the weight being lifted off of her shoulders and she grins, spreading her arms wide.

“Hug it out?"

“Awww yeah! Super friends hugs!” Winn pumps his fist before gathering her and James up in a bear hug. “The troublesome trio is back in business, baby!"

“Troublesome trio?” James sounds skeptical, his chin knocking Kara’s head as he speaks.

“Hey, I couldn’t think of any good ’t’ words okay? Cut me a break, I’m not getting a lot of sleep."

“Aww, poor baby! Vigilante work keeping you up at night.” Kara ruffles Winn’s hair as she pushes them away, grinning.

“Hey! Hey! The hair! The hair!” Win bats her hand away and she laughs.

“Speaking of vigilante work, wanna help us out tonight?” James offers hopefully.

“I can’t, I have plans."

“Plans?"

She starts walking backwards toward the entrance - she does not want to have to get into her friendship with Lena with them; not when they’ve just patched things up.

“Yep! But tomorrow maybe?"

“Tomorrow! Definitely!” Winn shouts after her as she shoots towards the sky.

Things were definitely looking up.

[too-young-to-die-blog1]

Major Quest: Round the World in 80 Days

Who: Bridget Miranda, Ezekiel Frank, Maxine Wilkins

Tagged: @ineverunderstoodanything @cleaveittobridget​

Word Count: 4455

Warnings: None

Maxine: Hatun Stronghold. That was the name the NPC mentioned to the other player, so this was where Maxine wanted to go. Sadly, her absolute lack of both gaming experience and sense of direction caused her to get lost shortly after she started her journey with the obstacle of finding a party of three to actually do the quest ever so present. She looked around herself for a second, looking out for the next best person that looked like someone who actually knew stuff about gaming, spotting a person that might just fit that description. She took a deep breath and then another before building up enough courage to walk up to them. “Excuse me?”, her voice sounded quiet and almost shaky with nervousness, making her feel even younger than she was. “I- I'm on my way to Hatun Stronghold and I'm afraid I got a bit lost. You don't happen to know the fastest way to get there, do you?”

Ezekiel: Hearing the squeak of a voice behind him, Ezekiel turned around to meet the newcomer with a smile. "Headed out to find the translation of the newest Dungeon Clue are you?" he stated in as warm a voice as he could manage amidst eating. He quickly tried to tidy his appearance, swiping the crumbs from his beard and straightening in his chair. The last thing he needed was someone assuming he was a wild-born. "Bridget and I just found it in the message boards, its been puzzling everyone," nudging the woman seated next to him pouring over her menu. He pulled open a the message board, displaying the image of the script, then pulling up the map and pointing to a corner, "I think the place is here, based on all the tags that are flooding that direction. You can join us if you wish, we were just abut to head out."

Bridget: Bridget yelped out an "ow!" when she was nudged, only to look up and realize that they may actually be able to form a whole party. That was good because it seemed like everyone else knew each other and quickly paired up. Bridget had been standing around reading the message board for a long while before the other two came around. Bridget was glad to find a party for this quest because it would likely be long and take forever, plus with the whole you die here you actually die thing, she wasn't exactly looking forward to battling monsters. "Yeah, you're free to join us" Bridget answered "We need three people for a party."

Maxine: Maxine nodded affirmatively at the mans question. Surprised that he seemed to be a lot nicer than what she expected based on looks alone, she even mustered a small smile. The offer to actually join their party came unexpected as she carefully listened to the directions he gave her. Startled, her mouth opened and closed for a few times. "I- uh. That- That would be great actually." Another smile genuine smile settled on her face. "Party of three it is then. I'm Max by the way."

Ezekiel: "Well meet, Max, I am Ezekiel." Ezekiel lifted himself from his chair, scattering his meal into pixels while he did so. He turned towards the door and motioned for Bridget to go first saying, "Take the lead, we'll be right behind you. Let nothing cross our path!" Having found a group not out for someone's blood for once, Ezekiel was determined to keep this fortune rolling.

Bridget: "Bridget" she answered simply before nodding towards Ezekiel and heading out the door. She brought up her map for a moment before she began to head towards the Hatun Stronghold. Looking behind her, Bridget said for the others to hear "We have a lot of traveling to do. So best get to it while we can, before the quest runs out and we've traveled all over the place for nothing." She barely checked to see if they were following her, walking briskly as to keep them on their feet and moving. They would have to move fast if they wanted to complete the quest in time.

Maxine: Keeping in step with Bridget wasn't easy and had Maxine follow her at that uncomfortable pace that was just too fast for walking, yet not quite fast enough for a slow jog. "So we just go to the stronghold, ask the guards about the note and that's it?", she asked, a somewhat confused look on her face. It would definitely take some time for her to get used to this whole quest system.

Ezekiel: "That's how it would go if you read the npc messages. But most just hit the skip button and follow the new quest marker," Ezekiel replied, easily keeping pace with Bridget. This is nothing compared to morning Parade inspection, he thought. "Honestly, my guess is that we'll have to travel to several spots, classic 'ancient prophecy' stuff." Ezekiel kept his eyes to the side of the road, the discussion boards had been on fire with reports of scuffles across the floor, apparently this quest was worth something to a lot of people.

Bridget: "What he said" Bridget answered "We'll likely figure it out as we go along but it won't be much different then any other quest." She shrugged, keeping her eyes on anyone they passed who might look like they were interested in their conversation. You could never be too careful in this game, especially given the circumstances. "We should probably at least skim what the NPCs say, just in case there's some important information. You have no idea how many times I have gone back and forth places in a MMORPG trying to figure out what to do next, when if I just read the NPC log, I would've known what to do next."

Maxine: She just nodded along to their explanations, pretending like most of what they were saying basically sounded like a foreign language to her. "So you two do this a lot, play games like these?", she asked curiously, hoping that she wasn't overstepping any lines by bringing up their real life. "You sure seem to know what you're talking about." The more people they passed, the more Maxime wondered how long "a lot of traveling" as Bridget called it would take.

Ezekiel: "When I was in the States, yeah. Hard to play while I was on active duty, but I made due with the pen & paper stuff." Judging by the question, he assumed she didn't play that much, that and the fact she wasn't watching the other players that heavily. "MMO's are a hard genre to get into, and an even harder one to get out of, no pun intended. My sis put a couple hundred hours into one and still never finished, granted she spent more time buying clothes than fighting bosses."

Bridget: "Oh yeah," Bridget nodded, still walking as fast as she could manage "I practically grew up playing games like this. It's in my DNA." Bridget was a little worried about the other's inexperience but she wouldn't say anything. You had to learn somehow and Bridget wished she had found someone who was willing to help her learn when she was first started out instead of just calling her a newbie and ignoring her. Gamers could be so mean sometimes. "I don't think they're that hard, honestly. Pretty fun if you think about it. But I guess they're not for everyone."

Maxine: Maxine listened to their stories with an interested look on her face she wasn't surprised by their past experience considering the way they moved around as if this was nothing different than what they would do on any other afternoon. "I'm not sure if it'll be something for me. This the first time I've played anything and so far I can't really say I'm a fan." When the gamr maker and his little drath mechanics crossed her mind, she pulled a pained looking face

Ezekiel: Seeing the worried look on her face, Ezekiel slowed his pace a bit and places a hand on Max's shoulder. "Whether in here, or in the real world, there will always be things that are...unfriendly. Humanity never got where it was dwelling on its fears, and you would not have made it this far if you let those fears shackle you. Besides, this is a video game, there's always a way to beat a video game." He flashed a wide smile at Max and gave her a gentle shove to help close the gap between her and Bridget before turning his gaze to the ceiling briefly.

Bridget: Bridget turned while still walking full force to notice that her party had slowed. She could understand why Maxine would be upset about the whole situation; it must suck to try out a game for the first time and then get stuck in some sort of weird death machine. But still, Bridget didn't see any reason to dwell on things that you couldn't change. So instead, she pressed forward and kept walking. She brought her map up again and realized that where they needed to head was an island. This immediately raised a thousand questions in her mind. How would they get there? Was there some sort of transportation? And most importantly, did it work the same as a normal MMORPG? Would they simply click on a NPC and instantly travel there or would they have to endure the process like in real life? This whole business was giving her a headache and it made her walk even faster. Turning to the others as she walked, Bridget said "Well apparently where we're headed is an island. So I hope you brought your lifevests."

Maxine: Startled by the sudden touch, Max jumped slightly, but quickly found it to be more comforting than anything else. There's always a way to beat a video game. This she would try to remember. "Thank you," she said warmly, almost giggling when Ezekiel shoved her forward. She glanced over Bridget's shoulder, trying to catch a look at the map. "An island? So what do we do, rent a boat?"

Ezekiel: "Finally, some good news!" He quickly jogged forward to look at the map, using his hand to measure distance like a compass. "That's not too far of a journey, maybe a day or so if the weather holds. If we could grab a small schooner or a skiff we'll make great time, since the ferries are always skirting around to the side." The grin on Ezekiel's face could not be bigger, he hadn't been able to sail for nearly 5 months before entering D.I. His pace quickened severely.

Bridget: Bridget looked at Ezekiel like he was growing an alien out of his head. "You a sailor?" She asked, curious. She had no idea what a schooner or a skiff was but if this guy knew what he was talking about, she would gladly let him figure it out. Bridget was never too fond of the ocean, even though she lived pretty close to one. She had no idea if they had to rent a boat or how any of it worked. She was severely missing the way a real MMORPG worked, where she would just click on a NPC and it would magically whisk her off to an island. Instead she had to figure out where a boat was and actually ride in it.

Maxine: "Well, someone's getting excited," Max said, a soft laughter in her voice. The look on Bridget's face was calming, letting her know that she wasn't the only one who had no idea what he was talking about. "So what's the new plan then? Find a harbour, find a ship and see how things are working out from there?" She wasn't the type for this kind of stuff. Just with winging it has never seemed to be sufficient. She would rather spend hours and hours planning something out, taking every detail into consideration, but right now this really didn't seem to be an option. It seemed like they actually had to improvise.

Ezekiel: "One step at a time. Once we get to the harbor, we can assess our situation. If there isn't a cheap way to cross aside from the ferry, my idea is to commandeer a smaller vessel so that we can avoid the massive throng of players heading that way." He kept his eyes  fixed on the horizon, taking a long whiff of the air. "You can already smell the salt!" The faster we get to a ship, he pondered, the better chance we can find a secluded spot to plan our route entirely.

Bridget: "Sounds good to me" Bridget answered. She preferred to plan things out as she went along and changed it as she saw fit. It was easier that way, especially in a game where you could die by making the wrong choice. Bridget just laughed at Ezekiel's enthusiasm and shrugged towards Maxine. At least he was enthusiastic about it and seemed to know what he was talking about. When Ezekiel mentioned being able to smell the salt air, Bridget turned to him and said "Can you really smell it? I mean, you have to think that your body is not actually here. It's where you linked up to. So you could be locked inside a one-bedroom apartment, far away from any ocean, and yet you can smell it. Pretty trippy, huh?"

Maxine: "That's the plan, then," Maxine nodded, somewhat defeated. Improvisation seemed to be key here and that would be something what would take quite some time for her to get used to. At least she could remind herself that Ezekiel actually knew what he was doing to comfort herself. She couldn't help but pull a face at Bridget's explanation. She wasn't wrong, obviously, but exactly that was the problem. Despite the obvious reality of their current situation, she still liked to remind herself that she wasn't lifelessly lying around in some arcade in Bristol while being stuck in some kind of video game limbo. "That's a pretty grim thought, don't you think?"

Ezekiel: "Just because it may seem dull, doesn't mean it still isn't wonderful. This place gives people a second chance that might be otherwise impossible," states Ezekiel flatly, absentmindedly rubbing his right as he says so. "And as for the salt, it doesn't matter whether I'm smelling it out the window in Juneau, or smelling it here just over the hill. It let's me know I'm alive, that I am able to do something." He stops shirt just after saying this, seeing the massive crowd around the docks.

Bridget: Bridget took both of their answers in stride. "Well, exactly. It is beautiful. And amazing how fully immersed we are in the game. You can literally smell the ocean. I'll take that over my shitty life anyday. Except for the whole you die here, you die in real life thing, you have to admit that this is a pretty steller concept. It's a gamer's dream come true." She meant every word of it and hand't even considered the idea that there might be people out there unable to do certain things in real life, who were now able to do those things in this game. Shame about the whole killing you thing. Bridget follows Ezekiel's lead and looks to notice the massive crowd standing around the docks. "Looks like we're not the only ones on the quest." She said before turning to Ezekiel "So what was that about the skip or crooner or whatever? You know how to make the boat-thing go into the water and make it go to the island?"

Ezekiel: Ezekiel scanned the edge of the small village, looking for a corner of the dock that wasn't filled with players. He saw one pier of to the left that was fairly deserted, aside from an elderly man who looked to be fishing. "I suggest we head over there, see if we can't persuade that man to lend us a boat, if he has one." He kept glancing toward the flock of people by the ferries. He hoped they could get out of the harbor before some of them tried to chase them down for a free ride. "If I walk up to him, can you two keep an eye on the pack over there? No need for us to turn into another ferry."

Maxine: Maxine decided to stay quiet. This was not her place to prove a point and ruining other people's happiness wasn't something she took an interest in. Instead she decided to let them enjoy their "second chance". For her, it was nothing but a curse. She should be studying for her A levels and filling out college applications right now, but instead everything she worked hard for all her life seemed to be just slipping through her fingers.

The view of the crowded docks didn't exactly add to her already barely there optimism either. Unsure of what to do now, she gave Ezekiel and Bridget a questioning look, hoping that one of them had a plan and Ezekiel delivered. "Sure, no problem. We'll keep watch," she said, giving a small nod before ah started observing the crowd.

Ezekiel: "Alright, try to stay behind cover is possible, and give me a warning only if it is dire, otherwise I'll have to break the conversation with the npc." With that said, Ezekiel started walking towards the fisherman, taking care to walk slowly and keep from drawing attention. Upon reaching the old man, Ezekiel tapped on his shoulder asking, "got a sec to chat old timer?" "Wanting to perfect your cast are ya? Well sit down and I'll teach you a thing or two," triggering a fishing skill tutorial. This was obviously the wrong guy to talk to.

Bridget: Bridget shrugged at Maxine before finding a tree to sit under and watching the crowd. They were all standing in line to presumably hitch a ride to the island. Bridget did her best to listen but most people were talking in hushed whispers or not talking at all. She hoped Ezekiel knew what he was doing because otherwise they would have to find another way to the island and time was running out. Bridget was pretty awkward in life and friendships weren't really her thing, so instead of attempting to talk to Maxine, she just stayed quiet and waited for Ezekiel's return.

Maxine: Maxine gave a weak smile in return for Bridget's shrug, but preferred to stand rather than sitting down next to her, hoping that Ezekiel wouldn't take too long. She tried her best to stay focused on the crowd but found herself distracted by the uneasy silence between her and the other woman quickly. "Do you like sailing?", she asked after clearing her throat, a poor attempt to start some small talk.

Ezekiel: "No no no, I don't a tutori..." Ezekiel spattered as the old man began his very in-depth guide to fishing. Well, at least he could use the cover to inspect the ships. Most of the smaller ships were rowboats, which would not help with speed, not to mention he would probably have to do most of the rowing. Ezekiel did spot one small skiff with a mast about 50 yards away. He decided he could make a break for it and start untying, once the tutorial ended...

Bridget: Bridget's attention was brought to Maxine as she appeared to try to start some small talk. Bridget politely smiled and answered "Can't say that I do, actually. The beach is my enemy." She lifted up her freckled skin and pointed to her ginger hair as if that was explanation enough before adding "I bake like a lobster. It's not a very pretty sight." She laughed, making sure to keep an eye out on the crowd. She squinted to look for Ezekiel, who seemed to be stuck in a NPC dialogue. She hoped it was going well. "What about you, much of a sailor?"

Maxine: Maxine laughed genuinely at Bridget's explanation. "Yeah, I get that," she said, motioning at her own fiery red hair. "No, not really. Sailing is kind of a big thing in my hometown. My father always tried to take me when I was a kid, but I never really go the hang of it." She shrugged slightly. Squinting she followed the other woman's gaze to where Ezekiel was still talking to the old man. "You think he's right?", she wondered out loud.

Ezekiel: After finishing the tutorial, Ezekiel didn't bother putting away the fishing rod, instead using it to help his guise as a player not on the current quest. He approached  the boat, finding another rod, some rope, a set of oars, and what looked like a basic tackle and aid kit. Ezekiel glanced around quickly to make sure no one had followed, then set to untying the yardline and anchor hoist. Just as he finished, he quickly flashed a gesture to the others waiting in the trees, then he started pushing the boat from the pier.

Bridget: Bridget laughed, taking her mind and eyes away from the crowd and Ezekiel for just a moment. "Well I guess we're about to have our own personal sailing lesson. Sucks that we can't have a loading screen. Instead we have to actually deal with this." She then looked down at her pale and freckly skin "Hope sunburn isn't a thing here..." before she looked up to notice Ezekiel gesturing towards them and pushing a boat into the water. Bridget said "Sink or swim time" before getting up to head as discretely as possible towards Ezekiel and the boat.

Maxine: "Well, let's hope we'll get to the other side safe then. Sailing is a lot harder than it looks." She pulled a face before looking up, blinking into the bright sunlight. This sure did feel real. "I'm afraid it might just be." Looking over to where Ezekiel was launching the boat, he gave the other woman a firm nod before heading down to the pier. "What took you so long?", Max asked with a teasing smirk.

Ezekiel: "Sorry, old guy was a fishing skill tutor, nothing I could do." Ezekiel breathed while hurriedly tying and untying knots. " Watch your heads with the Boom, and can someone grab the rudder?" The beam on the bottom of the sail swung wide across the boat as Ezekiel pointed to the level at the back of the small ship. Ezekiel glanced at the receding sun and asked "So who is gonna take first watch with me? I'm gonna need someone on the rudder all night if we plan on being there tomorrow afternoon. The other can use the small cabin to get some rest."

Bridget: Bridget followed Maxine to where Ezekiel was spouting off some more boat lingo. She stood there for a moment--perplexed--before eventualy getting into the boat and shrugging at the other woman. Bridget wasn't really tired so she decided to volunteer. "Sure, I'll do the watch thing. How long do you think it's going to take us to get there? There aren't any sea monsters out here or anything, right?"

Maxine: Maxine furrowed her brow, frantically trying to remember what her father told her about boats when she was little. She gave Bridget a thankful look, obviously relieved when she volunteered. "Sea monsters? You think there are sea monsters in this game?" Saying she was concerned was an understatement at this point, looking straight up frightened as she climed on board.

Ezekiel: "Alright, that should do it," mused Ezekiel as the sail filled with wind and the boat lurched forward. Ezekiel took a step back to admire his handy work before replying, "I wouldn't worry about sea monsters, the only place I've heard they exist is in an Atlantis-like quest, but you need to be able to breathe under water before the quest will allow you to start. What I would worry about is another group of players, but no one on shore seems to know how to swim." With that said, Ezekiel sat down on the side railing and started mulling over the map.

Bridget: "Well that's good." Bridget responded about the sea monsters. She wasn't ready to be drowned and/or eaten today. When the boat moved, Bridget wasn't sitting and she nearly fell out on her way down. "Jesus!" She yelled "I don't think we'll have to worry about anything with that kind of driving...er, sailing." She had hoped that the others knew what they were doing because Bridget was making it up as she went along.

Maxine: Maxine gave the sail a content look. It seemed like for now things were going good, yet she decided to keep quiet about that, trying not to jinx it. "Watch out!", she gasped, instinctively grabbing Bridget's wrist when she threatened to fall overboard. "Are you okay?" She looked over to the shore after giving Bridget a quick concerned look, just now noticing how fast they were going, judging by how far away it was already.

Ezekiel: Ezekiel had a look of contempt on his face. Based on how little wind they could feel, he estimated that they shouldn't even be moving a quarter of their current speed. "Judging by our unnatural speed, you two don't have very long to come up with our next step. We will mostly get there well before dawn breaks." Ezekiel then set to scavenging around the boat, seeing if there was anything else on board worth taking longterm.

Bridget: Bridget could do nothing more but nod in response, glad that someone cared about her wellbeing. Bridget liked to think she had a plan, but really she didn't; she was making it up as she went along. She would likely figure it out as she got there and go from there. The boat was moving a rapid speed and Ezekiel noted that it was much faster than it needed to be. "Well good, at least we won't be stuck on this boat for long..."

Maxine: "That's good, isn't it? The faster we get there, the faster we can finish this quest," Maxine offered with a shrug. To be honest, she didn't have a next step prepared. To her, it was almost a miracle that she made it this far in the first place. "So once we're in Hatun, all we need is to find a guard and ask for a translation, right?"

Ezekiel: "That's what I'm assuming." Ezekiel leveled the small telescope he found below deck at the horizon. He couldn't see anything aside from one of the npc ferries, which wasn't saying much considering how dark it was. "Either of you hungry? I've got to use the fish I caught it that tutorial before it rots."

Bridget: "That's true" Bridget nodded, hoping that they could complete the quest in time although the outcome wasn't looking good. They had started too late. "Yep, I guess just find a guard and get a translation on this thing." Bridget shrugged. When fish was mentioned, she nodded "I'm always hungry. What kind of fish is it?"