#then i remember i live in the “good old united estates”

[confidentialartist]

Sometimes, I worry I'm too frugal

But also buying nice things, or even cheap things, makes me feel bad

[cherriemi]

Trivia Night

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

in: reid has always noticed every tiny detail about you, the slight change in your hair or attitude. so when you throw a birthday party and include a trivia game for your unit to learn more about you, spencer gets every question right.

tw: improper capitalization, fluff, non-consensual kiss (let me know if there is anything else!)

a/n: this is my FIRST ff writing in years, so yes it’s bad and yes i’m rusty. please be nice to me :,(

wc: 2.3k

you walked into the office… and he could instantly tell something was off. it didn’t take long until he remembered that your hair was now shorter. you had gotten a haircut and he would be first to comment.

“did you get a haircut y/n?” he asked as you placed your bag on your desk. you nodded, “is it that short??” messing with your hair and seeing if the ends are shorter than you had remembered. “no, i like it.” a smile formed on his face. “thank you.” you looked away, flustered. 

he always noticed changes first. they were compliments, questions of concern. it never weirded you out as he admitted to having an eidetic memory. it just frustrated you that he always knew what was different. 

“i haven’t seen you in red… it compliments your undertones a lot.” 

“your makeup looks different, did you put on eyeliner? i quite like it.” 

“what happened to your finger? be careful next time okay?” 

“let’s get started for our case review.” hotchner poked his head out from the conference room. you grabbed what you needed and head up the steps with reid just behind you.

it was your birthday! you had invited your co-workers as they were the only people you really knew. joining the team only half a year ago, you moved away from your dream location but moved into a better job. 

you anxiously waited for someone to show up. your apartment was decorated, food cooked and the vinyl record playing smooth jazz. one of your favorite records, it was a compilation of a few popular artists and songs. you had found it selling for $2.99 at an estate sale back from your old job. 

you heard a couple voices from outside the door and then a knock. you rushed to the door, checking the peephole. it was hotchner and prentiss. 

the door door swung open, “happy birthday!!” emily prentiss cheerily pulled you in for a hug. hotchner smiled, repeating back what emily said with a back pat. “gifts can go over there.” your hand gestured towards the kitchen island. 

soon enough derek morgan and penelope garcia showed up, then jennifer and rossi. the party already seemed to be starting but you knew someone was missing. spencer reid appeared, exactly 25 minutes later than you had told the group chat. 

“come on reid!” derek and jennifer teased the boy. he was red on the face, a card in one hand and the other holding onto the strap of his messenger bag. he was dressed as he usually was: dress shoes, trousers, and a button up with a vest over. “sorry, i had to take the subway.” he responded. 

you grabbed the card from his hands, “it’s okay reid, go ahead and help yourself.” you set the card on the island as he walked over towards the pots and pans. he helped himself to some chicken and pasta. 

after the eating and cake cutting, it was gift giving time. you opened all the gifts in the kitchen while everyone watched. most of your co-workers gifted you a card with money but penelope had gifted wrapped a gift for you. you torn it open and found a bow ribbon set. you smiled and hugged her. 

you called everyone to the living room. emily, jennifer, penelope and derek had crushed themselves on the loveseat while rossi claimed the single seater you had. you grabbed your two only other chairs and placed them next to where rossi was. hotchner and reid sat in the new present chairs. 

you grabbed your phone which was connected to the tv and opened a slideshow, “y/n’s trivia night.” read rossi.

penelope sat up, “oh i am so good at these!” 

you reached behind the tv and checked for the gift card. “i thought that since i was the newest addition to the team… i would have a trivia game so you could learn more about me!” you pulled out a $50 visa gift card, “i prepared a prize for the 1st place winner… a $50 visa gift card!” everyone cooed at the possibility for a prize. “free money? now i’m in!” rossi joked. 

the first round was a multiple choice section, and each correct answer was worth 1 point. you explained the rules to your co-workers. the first question appeared on the slide. what is y/n’s favorite color? 

C. B. A. A. D. E. B. “the correct answer is B, one point to penelope and reid!” penelope nudged derek as he groaned. you assumed they had argued about your favorite color. 

another question, when is y/n’s birthday?

A. A. A. A. B. D. C. “the correct answer is… C! point to reid!” everyone groaned, especially those at the loveseat. they all answered your trick question, which had the incorrect year. 

you finished out the round 1 questions until everyone noticed a pattern. reid had gotten every single question correct. penelope would be a close second if 6 and 4 were neighbors. then emily and jennifer were tied, hotchner at 5th, rossi at 6th and derek dead last. penelope teased derek after the rankings were called out. 

you introduced round two, a free response round where each question was worth two. you admitted this round had more leeway as you could get 1 point for getting part of the answer but it had to be specific enough to warrant the 2 points. 

this round went by slower. without the help of given answers they had to use their brain power to create an answer. the first question was rough for many. hotchner got the single point for guessing your favorite childhood tv show but reid ultimately got the 2 points for getting the entire title. 

round two was so horrible, you ended up having to provide one hint per person to get points. you would have regretted making it a free response section if reid hadn’t gotten all the questions right again. 

you read the rankings, reid, penelope, hotchner, jennifer, emily, rossi and derek. 

you announced the third and final round. “it’s a single question.” everyone relaxed. “this question is worth double all your points.” everyone sat up. everyone but derek, rossi and emily had a chance to overcome reid, but it all came down to if reid missed the question. 

you read the question. gave them a few minutes as you served more champagne. after the minutes were up you counted down from 3 and had everyone revealed their answers. to everyone’s surprise reid had gotten the answer correct. almost exact to how you worded it on the tv. 

you read the final results. “last place is tied with derek and rossi at 5 points… emily with 8, hotchner with 10, jennifer with 11, penelope with 14 and reid with… 36.” 

derek stood up, “cheaters don’t win!” reid was red at the attention. you pulled the visa gift card and handed it to reid with a smile. penelope clapped for reid and joined jennifer, hotchner and rossi. derek was pouting. “excuse derek, he’s being a jerk.” peneople elbowed derek. 

the party went on for another hour until derek and peneople noted the time. “we have to go y/n, sorryyy.” peneople apologized. you bid them farewell. soon enough emily and jennifer wanted to leave as well. with emily and jennifer leaving, rossi and hotchner left after wishing you happy birthday for the third time. 

you were wrapping the food when reid entered after his bathroom break. “did everyone leave?” he asked. 

“yup, you can leave too… it won’t bug me.” you reassured reid in case he was waiting to leave. 

he approached you in the kitchen. “do you need help?” you looked at him, “if you could wrap the left over pasta, i would appreciate that.” 

he grabbed a sheet a tinfoil and sealed the ends. “could i actually take some of the pasta home?” he asked. you nodded, “of course! take however much you’d like.” you handed him a container. 

he spooned the pasta into the container. “you’re a wonderful cook y/n.” another compliment. 

“thank you,” escaped a smile while you felt your cheeks get warm. you pushed your lower back against the island. reid was taking more pasta. “are you a cheater?” you asked. 

he shut the container before turning around. “i’ve never dated so-“ 

“no i mean the game.” you cut through. he turned red. “how would i cheat?” it was a question of interest. he didn’t know the answer which was out of the norm for him. “i’m just surprised you got a perfect 100 on my trivia game.” 

reid’s mouth turned upwards, “eidetic memory y/n.” the eye contact was too much. “you say that, but can’t tell hotchner when his birthday is.” you rebutted. it was a question that hotchner blurted out during the game. emily prentiss, rossi and even derek knew his birthday but spencer had failed to come up with the correct answer. 

reid was chewing the inside of his mouth. “hotchner is old and uninteresting.” he jabbed at his boss. “and i am?” he nodded. “new people are always more interesting.” 

you had looked away. reid’s eye contact was too much for you. it was odd, he almost never could hold eye contact with anyone on the team but you? come to think of it, this was the first time since being transferred to the BAU that you and reid were alone. whenever the team split, reid was somehow in your group by chance but when it was one on one, you were paired with jennifer or hotchner.

in the beginning hotchner just wanted to get to see your working style and see how you handled people. after the first months, you had built a relationship with jennifer and she always pulled you away. she loved to hear what you thought about the other members, but you never told her the truth about reid. as a new member, it would leave a sour taste in their mouths if you immediately had issues with one member.

it wasn’t an issue though, it was more of an observation. 

he knew when you were born, he knew where you had transferred from, he knew your favorite genre of music and books, and now he knew where you lived. “is everything okay y/n?” reid cut through the silence. 

you realized it had been a couple minutes of silence. you avoided his eye contact and were zoning out. “yes…” you replied. reid stepped closer. “are you sure?” here he was asking you questions. he can sense the change in you. “yes, reid.” you replied. 

reid paused. “i got you a gift,” he dug into his bag, “but i was worried you wouldn’t like it.” he pulled out a small box. one that looked like it would house a necklace. he moved closer to you and reached his arm out. 

you took the box and opened it. inside was a necklace. gold, heart shaped with a beautiful gem in the middle that shined with the kitchen lights. “oh, it’s so pretty reid.” you lifted the necklace out of the box, unclasped it and slipped it on. 

reid analyzed. you could hear his breathing. in and out. in and out. once the necklace was on, reid asked, “does it fit well?” you knew it took a lot of effort, “perfectly.” you mumbled in response. 

reid hadn’t stepped back. you two were closer than ever. his hand brushed against clothing and reached for your chin. he lifted your face to look him in the eye. your cheeks were warming up faster than ever.

you both stayed silent. his hand wrapped around, sitting politely on your cheek. then before you could react, he leaned forward, his lips touching yours. 

at first, you were surprised at the sudden gestures of reid. he was quite germaphobic, refusing to even shake hands. that was your first lesson in the fbi, reid didn’t like being touched. he took the largest step back when you went in for a hand shake and hotchner behind you, “he doesn’t like hand shakes, i should’ve told you that.”

you could not resist. his lips were soft, his hand warmed your cheek and his free arm found it’s way around your waist. your body spoke that he wasn’t being rejected, and he pulled you in closer. 

it felt like the kiss had lasted minutes when he finally pulled back. “sorry,” he apologized, stepping back.

before he could go any further, you grabbed his collar and pulled him into another kiss. now he was surprised but that didn’t last longer than a split second. he cupped your face and kissed you. you opened your mouth slightly and he slipped his tongue inside, feeling around you. he pulled back taking the messenger bag he had donned all night off. returning, he held onto your waist while you reached for the back of his neck. 

everything clicked for you. he remembered all the small and obscure details about you because he was interested in you. when you told reid your favorite color because he noticed the different tops you had of that one color, when you told reid that your birthday was the reason for your favorite season. everytime reid asked you if you had changed your hair or makeup, it was because he had remembered that you keep your hair down and your makeup minimal. 

you pulled back, “you remembered everything about me because you were interested didn’t you.” reid was blushed, you weren’t sure if it was due to the kissing or the comment or maybe he was just hot. “i’m guilty…” he nodded, avoiding eye contact.

you begged reid to tell you the when and why. he was so embarrassed. admitting that he had never had a crush, and he asked hotchner what it meant to have an anxious feeling around a woman. “hotchner laughed at me and said that i was too smart to not know what attraction was.” reid told you. it was safe to say, that reid did not leave your apartment that night– in fact… he stayed the night at your apartment quite often. 

[thetruearchmagos]

Hey pointy hat

Trick🙀 or treat🍭

Hi there, thanks! [Had to work to figure out what this was let me tell ya...]

The generous Magi that I am, I'll keep this a Treat!

So... here's some Worldbuilding;

Author's Post-Writing Notes: To the shock of no one, this piece has gotten a helluva lot longer than I'd originally planned. Honestly, it might've worked as a good Worldbuilding Wednesday post, but oh well. Tagging @athenswrites @hessdalen-globe @caxycreations @theprissythumbelina @thatndginger @imslowlydisintegrating

L'Eglise: The Gollandiac Faithful

Early History

Long before Republic, Empire, or imperial dream, the far flung "Gollandiac" peoples were tied together by their common faith more than anything. Religion, like politics, was in those bygone times a highly localised affair, reliant on what pieces of scripture village or town churches possessed from the holy texts of "Premier Monde".

The Social Institution

As the decades and centuries rolled on, these disjointed and fiercely independent enclaves grew larger, and the role of organised faith grew with them. Not merely places of worship, a community's 'Church' functioned as arbitrators in disputes, keepers of the peace, and often managed pieces of local infrastructure. In a time when the rule of states and kings was weak everywhere beyond sight of their palaces, the church stepped in to provide stability and authority in manner that the ordinary Gollandiac could see and feel in their day to day lives.

The Estates

In the process, the various village and provincial clergy would amass for their parishes great wealth, privilege, and influence. They often side-stepped political regimes and governance to deal directly with their fellow holy men, and indeed many grew to see political authority as simply an obstruction. A parallel economy and system of politics came to be which ingrained itself into the fabric of Gollandiac society deeper than any of its petty kingdoms of the time could, and sovereigns and statesmen knew that they ruled with the consent of their bodies of churches, and would surely fall if they lost it.

To many within it, this arrangement was deemed tolerable, and the Church was often thought of as a steady and calming hand which acted to cool the tempers and avarice of dynastic rulers or other centers of power. While the balance of power would last for centuries, its fall would see the rise of the Goilac Empire, and the unification of the Gollandiac peoples under one King, and one chosen Church.

The Schism

The first cracks in the old ways came with the rise of industry, commerce, and foreign influence into the largely agrarian society of the land. These influences brought about the single greatest movement of humanity Gollandians had ever seen, away from the pastoral country and towards those handful of might cities who sat on the lands natural bounty in coal and iron, or with coastal access to plentiful foreign markets. This period was known to the United Commonwealth as its 8th decade from the signing of its Charter, and the polity's victory over the Fuhrati Empire sent shockwaves across the 12 Worlds. ******

With their flocks much diminished, so went much of the power of those Churches with more agrarian domains. Those in urban centres, on the other hand, were quick to adapt and seize the chance to entrench their influence in this new order, swapping their holdings in farmland or vineyards for foundries, mills, and shipyards. Their wealth and sheer hold on public life would make these institutions key players in the political game to come.

L'Eglise Et L'Etat

While Gollandia had often seen sharp competition between the organs of Church and State, a small handful of shrewd actors in the region's history had at various points seized on the potential offered by mutual collaboration. Of these, Antoine d'Porlanger, scion of the House of Porlanger and ruler of the rapidly industrialising Duchy of Goilac, would be remembered as the most fiercely successful in wielding the tools of faith and state to unite the squabbling continent under his crown.

His house had long fostered amicable relations with the various clergy leadership within their holdings, but Antoine would take a more involved approach than his predecessors. The same political mind that had undone half a dozen plots against his ascension applied itself to the subordination of these holy men to Ducal rule. One the one Antoine used subtle pressure and backroom negotiations to topple those cardinals who undermined his expanding government, while through gifts of wealth and offices of state he won over enough supporters to shore up his internal legitimacy. After all, those were days when the only regular news that rural townsfolk often received from the happenings in the city came from their local priests and word of mouth.

Crusade Royale

With his internal position secure, Antoine turned beyond his Duchy's borders. A self declared believer in the dream of a common and singular Gollandiac people, he was pragmatic enough to know that it would be an uphill struggle against entrenched institutions who abhorred the idea of surrendering their positions and power.

The Duke first sought to win hearts and minds across the Gollandiac lands, especially leveraging his credibility amongst the body faithful. Aside from their organisational independence, it was not uncommon for different church establishments to maintain their own dogma and tenets around the faith. Antoine believed a unified people would need a common nucleus around which an identity could be forged, and a common scripture would serve that purpose well. His sponsorship of various religious schools across the land, operated by his own Duchy's clergy and according to its rulings. Opposition was, subtly but firmly, discouraged. The conflagration that burned down the mountaintop monastery of Courvey Abbey is considered one example, or to the clergy of the time a singularly unfortunate act of God.

The Century Long Trapeze

The Goilac Church would play an integral role in Antoine's quest for holy and national unification, and in that programme's continuation under his successors. That history, however, must wait for another time.

After the consolidation of the Gollandiac peoples under the rule of Goilac, its Church could rest comfortable in its position as a vital arm of the Empire's governance. As the Empire grew to extend its reach beyond the Gollandiac peoples to conquests of others, its clergy would remain a vital connection between the state and its masses.

This privileged arrangement would last for almost a century, but it would not do so unchallenged. The rising institutions of the Empire's bureaucracy would be its first challenger, who preached a more secular approach to statesmanship. More would come. The fabric of Gollandiac society had already changed greatly once so long ago, then in a way that set it on the path of unity and conquest. The second great wave of change and upheaval would take a very different form, where

------

On Terra-Primo Artefacts

One notable item in the Goilac Church is the sacred text known as The True Book, or "Le Vrai Livre". The manuscript is estimated to be at least six centuries old, more ancient than any record of history on the continent and the oldest known bible in the 12 Words. Found on the grounds of the original Mortray Abbey, the text remains the Churches most prized possession, guarded under lock and key in the archives of the rebuilt monastery. With the scripture's age and its consistency with many texts on other Worlds, many content that it is in fact an original, Old World book, making it a major piece of evidence for subscribers to that theory.

------

[xtruss]

Here's This Year's List of the Most Endangered Historic Places in the U.S.

— May 1, 2024 | Neda Ulaby

Built in 1921, the New Salem Baptist Church served Black coal miners and their families in Tams, West Virginia. Cody Straley/WV SHPO/National Trust for Historic Preservation

There's a lonely old church in the mountains of West Virginia that holds a hidden history. Black coal miners in a segregated camp worshipped there starting in the 1920s. Now, the New Salem Baptist Church is listed as one of America's 11 most endangered historic sites.

The National Trust for Historic Preservation has released a list highlighting such places every year since 1988. Carol Quillen is the organization's new president and CEO. Trained as a historian, she was the first female president of Davidson College in North Carolina.

"I studied the past largely through texts, not places," Quillen told NPR. "And the difference between imagining one's relationship to the past through experiencing a place and reading a book in a library is really profound. So I love the way these places, which themselves hold layers and layers of stories, and invite us in the present to connect our stories to the ones these places hold."

Quillen said the push to preserve the New Salem Baptist Church came from a white Catholic woman whose father was the town's milkman. She enlisted not just the descendants of the church's original parishioners but also local ATV riders who could see and admire the church from a mountain trail.

"I love stories like that where a preservation project can mobilize folks who normally wouldn't encounter one another to work together on something significant to all of them," Quillen said. "And in that work, transform what the place can mean."

Black residents of Eatonville, Fla., have been trying to preserve their hometown for decades. One of the first self-governing all-Black towns in the United States, Eatonville was immortalized in the classic 1937 novel Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. The legendary Harlem Renaissance writer and anthropologist once described her hometown as "the city of five lakes, three croquet courts, 300 brown skins, 300 good swimmers, plenty guavas, two schools and no jailhouse."

Top: Hungerford Vocational School students in 1933 in Eatonville, Florida. Preserve the Eatonville Community Archives/National Trust for Historic Preservation

Bottom: Thomas House is the oldest structure in Eatonville and the original site of the St. Lawrence African Methodist Episcopal Church. Melissa Jest/National Trust for Historic Preservation

In a 2015 NPR story reported by Renata Sago, residents dreamed of an Eatonville reborn as a year-round heritage destination and remembered it as a refuge during the days of Jim Crow.

"We didn't lock our doors and kids could go out and play," recalled an elderly resident, Maye Saint Julian. "And everybody knew everybody. And all of these people that we honor so — James Brown, B.B. King, Lionel Hampton — these people came to Eatonville on a regular basis."

Ideally, Eatonville and many other sites on the list, such as the Cindy Walker House, could eventually become better-known cultural destinations. Located in Mexia, Texas, the ramshackle white frame structure was where a remarkable, unsung figure in country music lived for many years. Walker was one of the few female songwriters of her era. She wrote country standards and number one hits for Roy Orbison, Merle Haggard, Elvis Presley and more.

Top: Country singer Cindy Walker's home in Mexia, Texas. Cindy Walker Foundation/National Trust for Historic Preservation

Bottom: Tarps cover hurricane damage on the roof of the Estate Whim Great House. St. Croix Landmarks Society/National Trust for Historic Preservation

After she died in 2006, Walker's house was left abandoned. A handful of fans and heirs formed a foundation in her honor and purchased it in 2022.

"They found all kinds of things there," Quillen said. "They found her typewriter. They found her country music awards. They found songs that no one had ever heard before." One of those songs was a lost demo, called "Tennessee Rain," that can be heard in the audio version of this story.

This press photo of country singer Cindy Walker was among many never-before-seen photos recovered from the home. Cindy Walker Foundation/National Trust for Historic Preservation

Over the past three decades, the National Trust has seen some triumphs with its annual list of endangered places. Dozens of them have been saved, including the Antietam National Battlefield in Maryland, which narrowly missed becoming the site of a shopping mall, and Little Rock Central High School, where young Arkansas students helped overturn a legacy of legal segregation in 1957.

Now established by Congress as a National Historic Site, it's still a working public high school and a center for education about the country's civil rights.

"We don't want to spray these sites with ScotchgarEd, you know, and roll them off," Quillen said. "We really want to reinvigorate them so that they're active, exciting places for people to go so that they can continue to bring people together now and long into the future."

Here are the rest of the endangered historic places on the list this year:

Top: The Hudson-Athens Lighthouse is one of two "middle-of-the-river" lighthouses left standing on the Hudson River. David Oliver/National Trust for Historic Preservation

Bottom: 1st Street is the major thoroughfare in Los Angeles' Little Tokyo. Kristin Fukushima/National Trust for Historic Preservation

Estate Whim Museum, Frederiksted, St. Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands: "Established during the colonization of St. Croix by Denmark, Estate Whim was a plantation producing cotton and sugar for export. The lives and legacies of those enslaved by plantation owners and those who continued to labor there for meager wages for a century after emancipation are inextricably tied to the site, which now hosts a museum, library and archives, and public programming. Repeated hurricanes have damaged many of Estate Whim Museum's historic buildings and structures."

Hudson-Athens Lighthouse, Athens, N.Y.: "Opened in 1874, the Hudson-Athens Lighthouse used to be one of several 'middle-of-the-river' lighthouses on the Hudson River. Now, it's one of only two left standing. However, due to erosion and other preservation challenges, engineering reports indicate the building is at risk of collapse within three years if no action is taken."

Little Tokyo, Los Angeles, Calif.: "Little Tokyo is one of only four remaining Japantowns in the United States and one of the oldest neighborhoods in Los Angeles, but its unique character is endangered by large-scale development and transit projects and displacement of legacy businesses and restaurants."

Top: Minute Men and British reenactors fire a musket salute off the North Bridge at Minute Man National Historical Park. Neil Lynch/National Trust for Historic Preservation

Bottom: Theodore Roosevelt High School in Gary, Ind., in 2015. Tiffany Tolbert/National Trust for Historic Preservation

Minute Man National Historical Park, Walden, and nearby landmarks, Massachusetts: "Minute Man National Historical Park and the nearby areas of Concord, Lexington, Lincoln, and Bedford are home to places of great significance in American history, including Walden Pond and Woods and the preserved homesteads of authors and environmentalists: Little Women's Louisa May Alcott, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Henry David Thoreau. A proposed major expansion of nearby Hanscom Field airport could significantly increase private jet traffic, leading to increased noise, vehicular traffic, and negative environmental and climate impacts."

Roosevelt High School, Gary, Ind.: "Theodore Roosevelt High School in Gary was built in 1930 specifically to serve the educational needs of Black Americans and has graduated notable alumni including professional athletes, well-known actors, and members of The Jackson 5. The school has been unoccupied and deteriorating since 2019."

A view of Sitka Indian Village from across Sitka Harbor, circa 1900-1930. Library of Congress/National Trust for Historic Preservation

The Sitka Tlingit Village in 2024. James Poulson/National Trust for Historic Preservation

Sitka Tlingit Clan Houses, Sitka, Alaska: "The Sitka Tlingit Clan Houses in southeast Alaska are critically important to both the history and the future of the Lingít (commonly spelled in English as "Tlingit"). For many years, the matrilineal clan structure of multigenerational extended families living together in clan houses was discouraged in favor of the Western practice of living with nuclear families. Today, only eight of the original 43 clan houses remain and even fewer still function as clan houses in the traditional way."

Tangier American Legation's main courtyard. Tangier American Legation Institute for Moroccan Studies/National Trust for Historic Preservation

Tangier American Legation, Tangier, Morocco: "In 1821, the Tangier American Legation in Morocco was gifted to the United States by the Moroccan Sultan as a token of friendship, becoming the first American public property located abroad, and subsequently served as a U.S. diplomatic mission for a record 140 years. Now a cultural center, museum, and research library, the Legation is in urgent need of structural stabilization and repairs following the recent collapse of an adjacent building."

A cannon on the Wilderness National Military Park. Lori Coleman/American Battlefield Trust/National Trust for Historic Preservation

Wilderness Battlefield Area, Orange County, Virginia.: "The Battle of the Wilderness marked a pivotal turning point in the Civil War, but today, not all the historically significant landscape is protected. Proposed large new developments, including millions of square feet of industrial data centers and thousands of homes, may negatively impact important historic sites and landscapes and degrade the visitor experience."

[frenchtwistresistance]

One more thing:

The Doylist explanation is likely that LBT was just doing Dixie Carter and Delta Burke’s dynamic from Filthy Rich again and then that petered out because it doesn’t work for Designing Women’s less broad comedy style and more familial dynamic. Sure, they could’ve kept Suzanne being slutty without Julia being straight up mean to her, but it’s my impression that Delta Burke can only play slutty if she’s also catty, so to really achieve the desired effect of them all being friends, they had to dial back that part of the character to play to Delta Burke’s rather limited strengths as an actress (just my theory and no shade to Delta Burke. I love her and what she does well she does excellently but like Julia says, “She does baton because she doesn’t sing” and I’ve watched her short-lived ‘90s country singer sitcom and her singing is very… utilitarian. So what she does not as well she does mediocrely, which is fine, but the writers wrote material that was super funny and that she delivered perfectly that just so happened to not be the within the parameters of the original concept of the character).

🎶Deborah Allen Baby, I Lied🎶 And another thing:

Suzanne is also noticeably more conventionally intelligent in the first couple seasons, throwing out one-liners like, “I see you’ve had another altercation with the public at large,” and knowing facts about AIDS and in the pilot countering Julia’s barbs with bland condescension, like she’s just so above it all. And by the end of season four, she and Charlene are the “dumb busty girls” together (even though Charlene’s characterization never actually changes and she’s never actually written as dumb but Julia and Mary Jo perceive her as less intelligent pretty suddenly and nonsensically, imo).

(There’s no way in the universe Charlene Frazier-Stillfield, notary public, would reasonably lose a trivia game: LBT, I dare you to show us the questions we didn’t see in that Jeopardy game because it had to have been weighted heavily in stuff she’d never been exposed to [somehow?] because this is a woman who has cultivated friendships with at least two billionaires and one president of the United States, knows All the capitals of the world, is studying for her real estate license, remembers detailed plots of 40-year-old movies, reads scientific articles as well as tabloids and a lot of different genres of books, book keeps and files records and updates everyone’s schedules meticulously, and can be fascinated by absolutely anything. But this is a rabbit hole for another day.)

I don’t really have a good Watsonion or Doylist interpretation for either Suzanne’s slow slide to stupidity (with a few wonderful moments of lucidity) or Julia and Mary Jo’s erroneous and frankly out of character assertions about Charlene (they both comment early and often about Charlene’s efficiency and competence and wide breadth of knowledge) except that maybe LBT wanted to shame them and get rid of them.

The way I justify Suzanne’s whole deal in the pilot is that she is really going through it. There is something happening regarding her mental health—maybe she’s depressed because of her most recent divorce. Or she’s still grieving her brother-in-law’s death. Maybe they were close because he was a safe man who didn’t want to have sex with her, who was nice to her, whom she never had to flirt with but could if she wanted to just for the fun of it with no expectations.

Further, she’s not feeling like she’s fitting in at Sugarbakers’ because Mary Jo and Charlene are long-standing best friends and Hayden’s death hit Julia really hard and she’s empty-nesting and she’s kind of taking it out on Suzanne.

So Suzanne’s like… fuck it this is my sexpot era. There are (I’m being generous here) maybe four times through the run of the show that she expresses anything like genuine attraction to men, and the other instances are markedly different than how she implies she and Ted have a lot of sex that she enjoys. For example, the time she and Charlene are into that poster guy. It’s very “he’s so dreamy” school girl crush, and she seems to enjoy the camaraderie of gushing about him with Charlene more than the actual looks of him, which she actually says nothing about.

Yes, she’s seen flirting with men but it’s always very polite and appropriate, no real innuendo except a little with Dash Goff and Jack Dent, both of whom she was married to.

So that pilot and a few references and comments sprinkled throughout season one and two where everyone is working under the assumption that she’s slutty is just so jarring because she just demonstrably is not. Even in the pilot when Mary Jo remarks that Suzanne must’ve been engaged to a lot of men and Julia counters that yes and she’s married them all. Not slut behavior. And then! In the episode about Julia’s son’s girlfriend, Mary Jo says her son heard from a girl in his kindergarten class that if you see somebody naked you have to marry them, and Suzanne says that’s always been her policy! This is early in season one! She’s only been married three times so if she’s having sex with all these men she runs around with, it’s all clothes-on and how likely is that?

Anyway, her whole demeanor is different in the pilot—overtly sexy rather than just attractive and vain and harmlessly flirtatious. Everybody is just a tick off from later, more fully formed characterizations, but she’s the most different and my retcon head canon for it is that she was in a bad place emotionally and not really acting like herself.

I’ve mentioned this in a tag rant before, but one explanation could be that she’s just recently moved back to Atlanta from wherever she was living with husband #3 J. Benton Stonecipher and throwing herself back into Atlanta society to feel normal again and overdoes it and gets a reputation for a while and just kind of goes with it until she gets back to being comfortable with everybody and herself again, especially after becoming better friends with Mary Jo and Charlene (and setting them up with men they really like!).

[looseratinthegarage]

Hi! I've been thinking about this for awhile but how would slashers survive an zombie apocalypse with or without a s/o?

Slashers in a zombie apocalypse

Omg I had sm fun writing this!!

Michael Rz

•Terrified. Undoubtedly. Terrified. But! Would do remarkably well! He’d dig a hole somewhere and call it home.

•he’s a big man so food is an issue. But he manages.

•would have constant adrenaline if he has a s/o. He wants to protect you and keep you safe. If you die, especially if it’s because of him, he’ll…. He’ll walk unarmed into a swarm of zombies and fight them with his bare hands. Once he is inevitably turned, his body will wreak havoc while his mind is finally put to rest.

Michael Og

•lil man would be fine. He’d pick a house to make a base in and board it up.

•if the zombies are drawn to noise he’ll be totally okay. Dude doesn’t speak and is so quiet walking around. There’s no way he’d gain their attention…. Unless his unbathed stench brought them…

•I think he’d kill a bunch of zombies…. and eat them. Therefore turning into one. Unlike someone else on this list, he wasn’t trying to fuck around, he just needed food and went nom nom.

Jason

•Now this one’s interesting! Are we talking about zombie Jason? Or living?

•Zombie Jason is a fucking unit and would turn the most people. The only drawback is he kills extremely violently, he rips his victims apart, aka he makes a lot of crawlers or immobile zombinos.

•Living Jason I think would get very overwhelmed. He’d use his machete and or some sort of long ranged weapon that isn’t a gun.

•He’d do well for a long time, but Pamela would call to him from the other side, but only if he was alone or if y/n had been infected/died. He’d cradle his mom's head and possibly his s/o or a belonging of theirs and bury himself in the earth.

Hewitt Family

•Thomas goes into sheer panic. But less panic when he remembers how far from civilization they live.

•Thomas, Hoyt, and Monty if it’s before that even cut Thomas gave him will work together to make huge scrap metal and wood walls on the perimeter of their property.

•Luda Mae goes up into the attic to find scraps of cloth, old guns, and other helpful stuff. She’ll be handling the house and cooking as she normally does, while Thomas, Hoyt and again, maybe Monty, will patrol the perimeter.

•The tea lady moves into the Hewitt estate, and Henrietta brings her trailer into the encased property.

•they’re very stressed about how they’ll be able to provide food for everyone. They’ll turn one or more of the fields into crop land. Luda Mae, Thomas, Monty, and Henrietta will work the fields as well. Not Hoyt. Never Hoyt. I think he’s worried about breaking a nail.

•Long story short, I think they’ll do very well for themselves.

Sawyer Family (-choptop)

•Almost a complete disaster. Nubbins has a zombie chained up outside, he’s been calling it his gross dog. Drayton and Bubba tried to build a wall around the house, but couldn't do it by themselves. Bubbas panicking because they’ll have to eat his pet chicken. Drayton is taking his stress out on everyone. Grandpa is god knows where, no one’s remembered to check on him.

•Yeah they don’t make it.

Freddy

•he would either do amazing or instantly get turned, no in between.

•I think he’d bite a zombie- “how ya like that bitch” and then turn…. Like an idiot.

•Undead Freddy is far more nightmarish than living Freddy. Yuck!

•or on the other hand would kick some undead ass.

•his powers wouldn’t really help him? If my memory serves me well, the more people fear him, the more power he has. Zombies can’t feel fear, there’s only one thing they think about nom nom. Hence he’d have to use his claws or another weapon.

Yautja

•100% fine. Out of all of the boys, he’s good. Like- he’s going to be completely fine. Bruh doesn’t even live on this planet.

•He’ll make sure there’s not a scratch on his s/o, and gods forbid you get infected he can easily cure you with yautja technology.

•they can’t infect him, cus he’s, ya know, a fucking alien. So even if they do bite him, he’ll just be more pissed off then anything.

•He’s not worried about it, he can hop in his ship and just leave. Depending on your mate, he might let you bring family or close friends with you both. He’s not going to be happy about it. But he’ll allow it. Will also allow pets…..hesitantly….

[formula-what]

Brocedes time line for a very patient anon

Lewis quotes in orange, Nico quotes in pink, everyone else is blue.

okay first some background knowledge:

Nico is rich as fuck. only child, born in Germany, brought up in Monaco. son of world champion Keke Rosberg

Lewis was born on a council estate in Stevenage and his dad had to work multiple jobs for him to start karting

Honestly I think the difference in their backgrounds is one of the things that pushed them together, they were both isolated from the rest of the kids, but I’m keeping this purely facts rather than speculation.

2000

They’re both 15 years old and are karting teammates for MBB (Mercedes Benz McLaren) in Formula A

Robert Kubica: “there was always competition. But they didn’t fight. It was friendly competition. There was always laughing afterwards.” // “they would even have races to eat pizza”

They often shared hotel rooms at the races which was a “scene of many wrestling matches between them”

Dino Chiesa (their karting boss) – “many times I was called by reception about some problem in the room. It might be noise, or they might have broken something. They would never sleep so they were always tired the next morning���

“they both liked ice cream so much, particularly vanilla. During the night they wanted to eat ice cream always, so I had to go out everywhere to find some and keep them happy”

Lewis would often persuade Nico to buy him sweets

They would have competitions over LITERALLY EVERYTHING

Lewis: “we always had great competition whether on the racetrack or computer games or playing football”

“probably the first bit of competition we had was when Nico used to ride a unicycle everywhere so I thought, ‘I’ve got to learn how to ride this unicycle. Ive got to be better than him.’ I spent all my time outside the go-kart learning to ride this unicycle”

Apparently it only took Lewis 2 hours to teach himself how to do it

In maybe 2013 ish (when they were still friends) Lewis reflected with– “I have never laughed so much than when we were racing together. Nico was kicking everyone’s butt at that time. We had so great races together and built a great relationship”

“we were just arriving and enjoying go-karts and eating pizzas every weekend, fighting all the time and just having fun, whereas now it’s all business.”

many times they would talk about what they would do when they got to f1, made plans hoping to be teammates and become world champions together.

“Nico would say ‘when I’m in formula one’ and for me it was always ‘if I ever get to formula one’. Because obviously Nico’s dad was a formula 1 driver- he knew he was going to make it.”

F1

Nico joined f1 in 2006 with williams, Lewis 2007 with McLaren. And man I WISH I knew what went down with this two when Lewis nearly one his rookie season (missing out by one point to mr fernando alonso) and then WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP in his SECOND SEASON (again by one point thank you mr alonso)

2008 Australia

Nicos gets his first podium, and ofc Lewis is there (he won it) and they are jumping around in the cool down room. Just, two kids who are literally living the one thing they have spent their whole lives dreaming about together. Lewis won the championship that year and oh wow I can only imagine their celebrations together.

2013

They’re teammates in Mercedes!!!

Nico: “every other day there are moments or things that pop up and I can smirk and thing, ‘that’s exactly the same as it was 15 years ago’”

2013 Malaysian Grand Prix gets an honourable mention. This is the race with red bulls good old multi 21 but merc also had their own team orders, stopping nico from fighting for his first merc podium, but Lewis disagreed with it so it didn’t really spark that much tension between them- more the team.

2014

the start of the turbo-hybrid era so y’all know this was good in terms of performance.

2014 Bahrain Grand Prix

They were both fighting for the win and had a collision which prompted a “mock fight” in parc ferme after the race (which I really hope there’s a video of).

Turns out, Nico won because he had used engine modes banned by Mercedes to get a power advantage in the closing laps. which kinda pissed Lewis off

2014 Spanish Grand Prix

Lewis’ fourth win in a row and took lead in the championship. They were fighting till literally the last second and Lewis crossed the line 0.6 seconds ahead of Nico, who says he could have passed him with one more lap.

Lewis defended using the same banned engine modes that Nico had used in Bahrain. Yeah.

2014 Monaco Grand Prix

This is IT. This is peak petty bitch. This is the one people still cry about.

It’s the end of Q3, both of them are out on a lap, Nico ahead of lewis. Nico’s already on provisional pole but Lewis is pretty close.

And then,, Nico just,, parks his car?? He says he made a mistake but the guy doesn’t even crash he straight up just,, rolls to a stop into a slip road. So the yellow flags come out forcing Lewis to abort a lap that was in the makings of pole.

The stewards say it was a-okay but Lewis was convinced it was intentional (and let’s be honest, yeah it probably was) and he even claimed that merc’s data proved it. (low key surprised he didn’t just tweet out the telemetry but I guess he got a stern telling off from mclaren last time)

But *this* is when Lewis tells the world that they aren’t friends anymore. An iconic interview.

Nico then wins the race too, ending Lewis’s four win streak and putting Nico in the lead of the championship.

2014 Hungarian Grand Prix

Lewis has an engine failure in quali meaning he starts from the pit lane, but he does good to make his way up the pack but THEN there’s a safety car which puts him ahead of Nico but on a different strategy.

Nico asks if Lewis can let him past as he needs to pit again before the end of the race, which will give him the place back anyways. Lewis straight up refuses, he’s on a role here. He started from last, and Nico started from pole, why should he slow down to let his title rival through.

Mercedes strongly suggest that his blocking fucked up Nicos race but Niki Lauda is on Lewis’ side so he doesn’t get punished (We stan a supportive father figure) even though he did blatantly refuse to be a team player.

And guys, this is the last race before the summer break so you know Nico was left seething for four weeks.

2014 Belgian Grand Prix

Second lap, Nico attempts a clumsy move and there’s contact, giving Hamilton a puncture and knocking him out of the race.

There’s a lot of controversy but basically it turns out he crashed with him intentionally, not backing out of the corner to “prove a point”. Nico ended up finishing second but was punished by the team, forced to apologise, and even booed on the podium.

2014 Abu Dhabi

For some reason it ran for double points?? The first time in History??? But idk???

Lewis had a perfect start and went on to win it and take the title, Nico had a problem and was told to retire the car but he kept going anyway and finished 14th. Nico went into the cool down room to congratulate Lewis on the championship win, which. cute.

Lewis claimed his second championship. Which not only was huge because of the inter team rivalry, but also because of the large gap between his first win. This guy had lost out on winning the championship in his ROOKIE season by ONE POINT, and then WON it in his SECOND season, and then there was like a FIVE YEAR gap before he won it again.

2015

Damnnn this car was fiiiinneeeeeee.

They do more laps in testing than any other car AND do it on a single power unit. And then. Australia. They take a one-two THIRTY FOUR seconds ahead of the third place Ferrari.

2015 Chinese Grand Prix

Nico is second in a one-two but claims that Lewis kept backing him up into Seb, trying to compromise his race (and help out his boyfriend).

Lewis gave zero shits: "It's not my job to look after Nico's race, it's my job to manage the car and bring the car home as healthy and as fast as possible. That's what I did."

2015 U.S. Grand Prix

If Lewis wins here he could also claim the title with three races to spare (you have to remember back then the title fight often went up to the last race so this was pretty cool)

Lewis very aggressively forced Rosberg wide at Turn 1 to claim the lead, and then there was some sexy fighting between the Mercs and Redbull all race. Nico led in the closing stages but made a mistake, running deep into a corner and letting Lewis past with only a handful of laps to go.

Nico finished P2 and had not only lost the race but the championship title. Nico was fuming, saying Lewis’ move at the start was “one step too far”.

This is the infamous cap throw in the cool down room. Lewis throws Nico his P2 hat, Nico straight up yeets it back at him. I tear up just thinking about it. They grow up so fast.

2016

Nico had came so close to winning and I guess this was just, the last straw. All or nothing. This year he literally gave it everything he had. Lewis and him stopped speaking, Nico gave up literally the rest of his life and even stopped sleeping in the same bed as his wife and taking care of his kids, instead spending every moment trying to get into Lewis’ head. Honestly, I think he might be the only one that could beat Lewis. Just because he knew him *so well*. He literally threw away like 16 years of friendship. But also it’s like, he had to be world champion. He *had to*. His dad was champion and his whole life he’s been preparing to win it too. Tough luck that he raced in the same era as Mr. Best Driver The Sport Has Ever Seen.

Nico won the last few races of 2015, and the first four races of 2016. Lewis had a couple car problems and Nico had a good lead on him in the championship.

2016 Spanish Grand Prix

Gentlemen. A short view back to the past. Nico had made a switch error on the formation lap causing the car to go into the wrong engine mode. So he was running a lot slower than Lewis, who was fighting to claim back the lead.

Nico closed the door to keep him back, and Lewis lost control on the grass, and spins into Nico and taking them both out of the race in the first lap. This is probably one of the most iconic crashes. I’m pretty sure there’s a clip of this somewhere in black and white with the titanic music over the top.

Niki Lauda blamed this one on Lewis (I guess even a supportive dad has to be critical sometimes) "Lewis is too aggressive. It is stupid, we could've won this race".

2016 Austrian Grand Prix

Nico had been struggling with a brake issue all race but was still on the way to win it. But in the last lap Lewis had caught him up and gone in for the overtake.

Typical Nico not taking any shit, refusing to be the guy that backs out and they collide. Lewis took the win and a damaged Nico dropped to fourth. From first. In the last lap.

Both of them blamed each other and tired dad team boss Toto Wolff threatened team orders in future races.

The stewards blamed Nico for the incident, issuing him two penalty points for failing to allow "racing room" and causing a collision.

2016 Abu Dhabi

In the final laps of the race, Lewis ignored team-orders from his race engineer and the technical director.

He deliberately slowed and backed Nico into the pack hoping they overtake him, and there would be enough of a points difference to win the title.

Nico finished second and won the title by five points.

And then,,, Nico announced a surprise retirement during the FIA prize giving ceremony.

Lewis’ response:

"This is the first time he's won in 18 years, hence why it was not a surprise that he decided to stop.” (We stan a petty king)

“But he's also got a family to focus on and probably wants to have more children. Formula One takes up so much of your time."

“In terms of missing the rivalry, of course because we started karting when we were 13 and we would always talk about being champions. When I joined this team, Nico was there, which was something we spoke about when we were kids. So it's going to be very, very strange, and, for sure, it will be sad to not have him in the team next year."

And now they are kind of on speaking terms but not really, they are both pretty private but I think they are at the ‘awkward small talk when we run into each other at the supermarket’ stage of the break up.

[bookish-bogwitch]

COC 2021:

The Lost Hours

December 22, nighttime: Simon falls asleep huffing Baz’s pillow on the couch.

December 23, late afternoon: Baz rolls up at Fiona’s flat, made of trouble. (Simon’s whereabouts are unknown at that point.)

But what happened in between? After examining all the evidence, the Snowbaz Investigation Unit has narrowed it down to a few things that could have happened, and one that actually did. Chapter 1 of 3-ish. (AO3.)

Ch. 1: Gifts of the Mages

BAZ

“Will your friend be staying for Christmas, Basilton?” Daphne appears in my bedroom doorway. Snow is back in his room, probably calling Bunce about the wraiths. (It was wrong to give him the only haunted bedroom.)

“I’m not sure, Mum.” Any minute, Snow will remember he hates me and will run for the train.

“Well. I’ll ask Vera to wrap a few things up for him. Just in case.” Daphne keeps a stash of emergency presents—good ones. She hoards cashmere jumpers to complement every eye color, including bog-standard blue.

I wish I had her foresight. Shopping is out of the question; I can’t leave Snow here alone. I’ll have to give him something I already have. But it will look petty to give him some obvious castoff. Especially since he wouldn’t appreciate a perfect necktie if I choked him with it. (I would appreciate if he choked me with a tie.)

What can I give Snow that says I don’t want to kill you, but I’m definitely not in love with you? Something polite. Decent. But ordinary. (He’s extraordinary.)

I’m so fucked.

SIMON

I just realized it’s nearly Christmas. When do the Pitches give gifts? Agatha’s family does Christmas Day, but Penny says hers does Christmas Eve. Tomorrow. If I’m still here, I’ll just be watching while Baz’s family exchanges weird, posh stuff. I would feel like an ass empty-handed—I am guest. Penny always helped me choose a gift for Mrs. Wellbelove when I spent Christmas there.

And I need to give Baz something. Don’t I? Isn’t that what people do? People who live together for years and spend Christmas together and are temporarily not mortal enemies?

Fuck. I can’t go shopping. It would take hours to walk to the village. I don’t dare ask one of Baz’s parents for a ride. I can’t ask Baz. I’ll just come up with something without leaving the estate. And without conjuring, because I’m crap that. And I forgot my wand. I’ll just … make him … a gift? Out of … nature? And … my coat? And … rubbish? Fuck.

BAZ

“Baz! Come and see—What are you doing?”

Snow bursts burst into my room. No knock or anything. As if he’s forgotten we’re not at Watford, that he has his own room here. I’m at my desk, wondering how to wrap his gift. It’s not Christmas yet.

It doesn’t matter.

I sigh. “Happy Christmas, Snow.”

SIMON

Baz hands me a book with a cream-colored necktie looped round it like a ribbon. Guess that’s also for me?

The book looks very old. It’s dark blue, with a gold peacock spreading its tail all over the cover. Its feathers curl down around the swirly lettering. Pride and Prejudice. Penny’s been on me to read it since fifth year. Guess I will, now.

“Thank you, Baz. It’s beautiful.” It is.

“Spare me, Snow.” It sounds like a sneer, but he’s smiling. I am too.

BAZ

Snow’s grin is sheepish and proud at the same time. It’s giving me a sunburn. “I got you something too, Baz.”

“What?” What is happening?

“For Christmas. I got you something for Christmas.”

“Snow, just because we’re on a truce doesn’t mean we give each other little presents now.” I can’t get out of my own way.

“Baz, you literally just gave me a book that probably cost more than everything I own.” I have no idea of its price. I stole it from the British Library when I was fifteen. “Come on. Come see your present.”

He grabs me by the wrist. I let him lead me out. We are almost hand in hand.

We cross the south lawn. We pass through the rose garden—just a thorn garden, in winter—and reach a potting shed at the edge of the wood. Snow grasps the latch, then stops and turns to me.

“I hope you like it. I thought—well.” He’s nervous, but still smiling. “Happy Christmas, Baz.” He’s searching my face as he opens the door.

Simon Snow has caught me a live badger.

[drosera-nepenthes]

A Royal Recluse: Princess Clotilde

Just at the time when, in consequence of the weakness and folly of the republican government, certain French Monarchists are looking to Prince Victor Napoleon Bonaparte as the possible savior of their country, the Prince, whose marriage to Princess Clementina of Belgium recently brought him before the public, was watching by the deathbed of his mother, Princess Clotilde of Savoy, who breathed her last on June 25. The story of this royal lady is a pathetic one and, apart from the interest that is attached to her as the mother of the imperial candidate to the French throne, her personal character was one of rare beauty.

She was the daughter of Victor Emmanuel II, first King of Italy, and of Adelaide, Archduchess of Austria, and was born at Turin on March 2, 1843. Her mother died in 1855, leaving five young children, of whom Clotilde was the eldest, the others being Humbert, the future King of Italy ; Amadeo, Duke of Aosta ; Maria Pia, the queen dowager of Portugal, and a son who died in childhood. The Queen of Sardinia (Victor Emmanuel had not at that time laid violent hands on the independent states of Italy) was an exemplary wife and mother, and her orphan daughters were carefully educated by the attendants whom she had placed about them.

Never was a princess more ruthlessly sacrificed to political interests than the eldest princess of Savoy. When a mere child of sixteen, Clotilde was chosen to cement the alliance between France and Sardinia, and was promised in marriage to Prince Napoleon Jerome, nephew of Napoleon I and first cousin Napoleon III, the reigning sovereign. Princess Clotilde was connected with the Bourbons, her very name was French and was given to her in memory of the French Princess Marie Clotilde, sister of Louis XVI, who married a King of Sardinia ; but allied as she was by close ties of blood to the Bourbons, she had nothing in common with the Bonapartes who occupied their place, and a more ill-assorted couple never existed than the middle-aged, violent, cynical and free-thinking Prince Napoleon and the daughter of the most ancient royal house in Europe, who traditions and surroundings were strictly conservative and religious. Their marriage took place at Turin on January 30, 1859. The bride was sixteen and the bridegroom thirty-seven. He had a handsome presence and was intelligent and well informed and well informed, but neither his private life nor his freely expressed opinions on public matters made him estimable or lovable. His attitude with regard to his cousin, the Emperor, was one of constant opposition, and it was reported that his anti-religious views led him to take part in the banquets organized by a group of free thinkers on Good Friday. Under the Second Empire the French Government was officially Catholic, and Prince Napoleon's hostile and aggressive attitude was pronounced ill-bred, if not worse. Throughout France he was distinctly unpopular.

The young bride, married to this unsympathetic nephew of the great Napoleon, probably had few illusions as to the sum of happiness that awaited her in her new home. There are still some old men living who remember her when she took possession of the Palais Royal, Prince Napoleon's Paris house.: a slight, pale girl, with fluffy, fair hair and bright eyes, not pretty but singularly attractive. Her high breeding stood her in good stead in the somewhat parvenu atmosphere of the Court of the Tuileries, she had a royal dignity all her own, and her simplicity of heart was combined with much quiet firmness. From the first she ordered her life according to the principles in which she had been educated. An early riser, even at the Palais Royal, she gave much time to prayer and to works of mercy, but her piety, says M. Emile Ollivier, a former minister of Napoleon II, “never made her tiresome or intolerant. She believed that the most useful sermon was the practice of the virtues that are taught by faith.” Her husband, although so widely apart from her, acknowledged her goodness. “Clotilde is a saint,” he sometimes said ; “if there were many like her, I believe I myself should end by becoming devout.”

When the disastrous war of 1870 brought terror and shame upon France, the Princess was in Paris. During that fatal month of August every day came news of a fresh defeat, and the revolution that was to break out on the 4th of September was already distinctly perceptible; the infuriated and terrified people made the imperial government responsible for the reverses that so keenly wounded their patriotic pride.

Princess Clotilde was alone at the Palais Royal ; her husband was with the army, her three children she sent to Switzerland, where Prince Napoleon had an estate; but she steadily refused to leave Paris while the Empress Eugénie remained at the Tuileries. There was not much personal sympathy between the two; it was Princess Clotilde's feeling of loyalty that chained her to the post danger as long as there was a semblance of imperial government in Paris.

In vain her husband wrote imperious messages bidding her join her children at Prangins; in vain her father sent the Marquis Spinela to Paris to escort her ; the Princess so yielding in everyday life, was unbending in her decision to remain at the palace as long as the lonely woman at the Tuileries was the nominal ruler of France ; she had shared the splendors of the Empire, and it went against her noble spirit to desert the Empress.

The letter this young woman, a stranger in a strange land, wrote to her father on August 25, 1870, has been quoted by the French papers. It is a right royal letter worthy of the daughter of kings:

“I am a French woman,” she says. “I cannot desert my country. When I married although so young, I knew what I was doing and if I did it, it was because I wished to do so. The interest of my husband, of my children and of my country require that I should remain here. The honor of my name, your honor, my dear father, and that of my country also demand it. Nothing will make me fail in what I believe to be my duty to the end... You know that the house of Savoy and fear have never gone together, and you would not wish that they should meet in my person.”

At last, when the Empress was driven from her palace by the mob, the Princess considered that she was free to follow, but how different was the departure of the two women!

The brilliant and beautiful sovereign, closely disguised, was only able to leave Paris owing to the assistance of her American dentist, Dr. Evans; her young cousin made her exit as a princess. In an open carriage, accompanied by her lady in waiting, she drove to the railway station in broad daylight. The excited people, awed by her courage and dignity, saluted her as she passed out of their sight, a truly royal and saintly figure.

Princess Clotilde lived for some years at Prangins, near Geneva, where she devoted herself to the education of her three children; then, when her husband was allowed to return to France, the difficulties of her married life were such that by mutual consent she retired to the Castle of Moncalieri, near Turin, with her young daughter. Here, in the home of her childhood, she spent nearly forty years. They were years of peace, largely marked by sorrow. Four times only did she emerge from her retreat, once in January 1878, when she heard that her father lay dangerously ill in Rome. She had suffered cruelly from the spoliation of the Holy See by the house of Savoy, and the remembrance of her father's part in the matter prompted her to fly to his bedside. On the way she heard that he was dead, and she sadly returned to Moncalieri. In 1891, she again started for Rome, this time to visit her husband, who lay dying at the Hotel de Russie. Those who saw the Princess during those solemn days can never forget her sweetness, earnestness and gentle patience. What passed between her and Prince Napoleon none can tell, but Cardinal Mermillod a frequent visitor to the sick room, professed himself satisfied, after two private interviews, that the dying man was fully conscious. The Princess, whose married life, it is well known, had been a via crucis, remained near him to the end, praying incessantly for the soul that probably owes its salvation to her intercession. Again in 1903 and in 1904, she left Moncalieri to visit her sister-in-law, Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, whose deathbed she attended.

Her life, as it neared the end became more and more that of a recluse. Her sons lived their own lives in Brussels and in Russia; her daughter, having married a Prince of Savoy, was near to her, and their visits, occasionally brought an element of joy into the silent castle. Last autumn, Prince Victor Napoleon's marriage to the Princess Clémentine of Belgium gladdened his mother's heart. It was celebrated at Moncalieri, and to those who attended the ceremony the most striking figure present was the slight, gray-haired lady, plainly dressed in black, whose eyes had the far-away look of those who are nearing the eternal shore. Even in the days of her youth Princess Clotilde's spirituality struck M. Emile Ollivier. It gave her, he says a singular insight into all questions that touch on right and wrong; she possessed the gifts of the true mystics, “who judge human affairs with a clearness and rectitude born of detachment.” Her chief link with the outer world during the long, silent years of old age was her love for the poor, to whom she gave royally, with a loving kindness that made her gifts more precious. Their grief was great when they heard of her death, and their prayers will follow her remains to the royal mausoleum of La Superga, near Turin, where the daughter of the Sardinian Kings sleeps with her ancestors.

America. United States, America Press, 1911.

[miceenscene]

'tis the damn season

frankie/reader | childhood friends to lovers | pre-canon

wc: 1.8k/2.5k

summary: At one point in your lives, you knew Frankie better than anyone else on earth. When did that change?

warnings: none

an: don't let anyone tell you that second person doesn't work from another character's perspective, least of all yourself while editing

Masterpost | ao3

Chapter 2: Who am I Related to?

December 8, 2012 18:57

Hudson’s was a shitty bar just up highway 210 outside of Fort Bragg, the nearest watering hole to the base as the crow flies.

As a result, it served pretty damn near exclusively military personnel. When it changed ownership about four years back, the new management decided to reflect that and so the place looked like the Fourth of July and Top Gun had thrown up on it. Never mind that Fort Bragg was an Army base. Still, they had cheap booze and greasy food that was far better than the commissary, so it was always busy.

Pope had texted the usual suspects a few hours ago that he was heading to Hudson’s that evening, making Frankie immediately ditch his plans of drinking alone for drinking with Pope and whoever else showed up. Most likely just Benny and Ironhead now that Redfly had semi-retired down to Florida. It was a short drive to the bar from the dorms on base, but it was enough to make Frankie groan and press hands to his lower back as he got out of his car and made his way inside.

Pope was sitting at the bar and didn’t look up from texting on his phone as Frankie gingerly eased into the stool next to him.

“Hey, Fish,” Pope said, rereading the email.

“Hey.” At the bartender’s attention, Frankie pointed to Pope’s beer before daring a slight back stretch.

Pope sent his email and then looked over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just finished PT.”

He chuckled once. “Back still fucked?”

“More tired than fucked anymore,” Frankie managed, shaking his head and wincing. The bartender delivered his beer, and Frankie took a swig. “When did we get old?”

“¿De qué estás hablando ‘nosotros’, viejo?”

Frankie jabbed an elbow and grinned slightly down at his next swig. “Culero.”

“Hey, before everyone gets here–” Pope looked at him, an oddly serious expression on his face for their usual bar. “I found out today you haven’t re-enlisted yet.”

Frankie immediately dropped his gaze to the suddenly very interesting glass in his hand. “Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”

“I’m trying to pull strings to get Benny into our unit full-time. I think he’d fit well with the team. Then Simmons tells me you haven’t signed your new papers yet. So what’s up?”

Frankie glanced over to see Pope still focused on him. “Nothing, nothing. I… I’m still thinking about it.”

He chuckled. “What’s there to think about?”

“We all want out someday, right? If we’re lucky enough to choose when we leave.”

“Yeah, but there’s thinking and thinking.” Pope smacked his shoulder. “What – are you gonna become a real estate agent like Redfly?”

No. Definitely not. Even just the idea of shilling condos was enough to make Frankie’s eyes glaze over. But still–

“Real estate agents make more money than we do.”

Pope made a considering face for a moment then brushed it off. “Yeah, but you’d miss it. You’re like me. We like the rush.”

Frankie nodded slightly. This is why he was still just thinking about it. It wasn’t a small thing to walk away from fourteen years with the Army. Especially since everyone knew the retirement benefits were absolute shit until you hit twenty. But he could already tell, he didn’t have another six years in him. He wasn’t even sure he had another deployment.

“You know the deadline’s New Year’s, right?” Pope said, cutting through his thoughts.

“Yeah, I know. I have some leave I have to take before the year’s out anyway.”

Pope nodded. “Good. Clear your head, get some perspective. See how fucking boring civvy life is, and then come back Jan 2 and join my team.”

Frankie smiled wryly; Pope always could make anything sound easy. “Something like that.”

“You have holiday plans then?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

Frankie sucked in breath. “I guess I’ll go back to my parents’. My mom’s been wanting me to visit for a while now.”

“How long’s it been?”

“I saw them in DC last summer, but I haven’t been back home… since I joined Delta.”

“Remind me where they’re at.”

“Up north. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Still in the same house I grew up in.” He could picture the wreath on the door, the twinkling lights his dad always strung across the front fence every December. A matching set used to be hung on the fence exactly opposite across the street. Who lived there now, he wondered. Would they put the tree in the front window too?

“Soldier coming home for Christmas. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“Fuck you,” Frankie replied as the others finally arrived.

--

Frankie got his answer as he ducked out the front door of his parent’s house about a week later. His breath immediately fogged as he sucked in a few calming breaths of night air, the pressure in his head slowly levelling. Out in the still darkness, the noise level coming from the living room was finally manageable. Inside, with all of his cousins and his aunts and uncles and the music and everyone talking over each other and the heater set far too high for the number of people inside– he… he just needed a break.

Seven hours was a decent stint for his first day. He’d be around longer tomorrow. Wading in. That was the key. Because he was now the kind of person that had to treat time with his family like running a marathon. Apparently.

He walked down to the twinkling front fence, making a mental note to shovel the front walk tomorrow, and stopped. The house across the street – your house, as it would forever be in his mind – was completely dark. A small sign posted in the front yard announced some sort of home refurbishment company was going to be arriving soon. No doubt they would come in, strip away wallpaper and old tile and heart to paint it all beige and granite for the quick resell.

He hadn’t had the heart to ask his mother yet how long the house hadn’t belonged to your family. No need for another reminder of how much time had passed, how much he’d missed. He had more than enough already.

The front door opened behind him, casting a temporary warm glow across the dark snow, and his dad stepped out, pipe in hand. He meandered down the front steps to join Frankie at the gate, puffing a few times before speaking.

He shook his head. “It’d break his heart to see it so empty, but I understand why she sold,” he said, looking at the forlorn house with him.

“How long ago?” Frankie asked.

“Few months. Not too long after the funeral.” Dad looked his way for a moment. “I’ll give it ten minutes before I tell your mother you left.”

“I… thanks,” he replied weakly.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back.”

Dad nodded slowly, leaving just the pipe smoke wafting between them for a minute. “Take it slow, no need to rush.”

“Thanks.” He stepped through the gate, fishing in his pocket for his car keys.

“Francisco,” he said, making Frankie stop and look at him. “We’re glad you’re back.”

Frankie just nodded and went to his car. Even though he couldn’t bear another minute in the noisy press of his loved ones, the idea of going back to his lonely hotel room was truly abysmal. So after some finagling with the ignition, he started the engine and headed to the one bar he’d ever been to in his hometown.

--

There were Christmas lights in the window and a dancing Santa on the bar as Frankie walked in. Some sort of forcibly cheery holiday classic played over the speakers tucked between quirky memorabilia that hung over every square inch of wall space. And even though public smoking had been outlawed by the state well over a decade ago, cigarette stench had sunk into the very foundation of the place.

It was nothing like Frankie remembered. But it would do.

Eyes automatically sweeping across the moderately busy room for a Thursday night, he headed for a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender came by. It was just one step up from swill, but comfortably numbing in its mediocrity. He looked across the room again, checking for familiar faces this time and finding none. No surprise there. A decade was a long time, and really he hadn’t been around too much for the years before that too.

There were couples on dates here, friend groups, some sort of girls’ night happening in the corner, a few loners like him hovering at the bar. Most everyone was smiling, talking, laughing so hard their whole bodies shook. A whole world of Normal. And Frankie was a tourist.

Pope was right. He couldn’t go back to this. He couldn’t make it through one whole day with blood relatives anymore. What was he thinking? That he could just settle into a normal life like the last decade of his work was nothing? Get a 9-to-5 and a mortgage and a girl – not that he’d ever had too much luck in that department. Especially when there was one girl that eclipsed all others, and he didn’t even know her phone number any more.

The door opened, making the Santa on the bar dance, and every thought in Frankie’s head immediately stopped. His eyes drew wide as he stared, jaw barely restrained from slapping against his chest. Was it really – course it was, there wasn’t anyone else it could be. A whole century could pass, and he’d still know that face.

It was you.

Live, in the flesh you. Cheeks pinked from the wind, haloed by the street lights outside, wrapped in a truly astonishing number of woolen layers. Not a half-remembered fantasy, but Real and breathing and even more beautiful than his memory had claimed.

He watched you shake a few flurries out of your hair and stomp the excess snow off your boots, shutting the door behind you as you waved to the bartender. Your gaze swung across the bar, completely skimming past him, and landed on the girls’ night in the corner. You smiled. He stared.

You began to head over to the people you were obviously here to meet. On nothing but pure instinct, he immediately got out of his stool and followed you. Falling into step behind you, he stretched a hand forward to hook a few fingers inside your elbow.

You looked back at him, and for a heart-breaking breath there was no recognition in your eyes.

Till he gave you a half-smile and said, “Hey Bo.”

You blinked, mouth dropping open. “Frankie?” you asked.

He nodded.

Your astonishment ballooned so wide it froze your whole face solid for a moment. Then you laughed, out of far more shock than amusement, and gave him a smile all his own. “Oh my god!! You’re here!”

You immediately wrapped him in a hug. And though it took him a moment to return it, for the first time in ten whole years, he was home.

Chapter 3: Not my Homeland Anymore

taglist: @kelenloth ; @darnitdraco ; @gracie7209 ; @616wilsons ; @icanbeyourjedi ; @astroboots ;

[grlwtskulltattoo]

Fall For You - Chapter 4

Characters - Jax Teller x OFC (Katrina)

Summary - Katrina leaves an abuse relationship and heads home after finding out about her father’s passing. Old feelings come back to the surface for a person from her past. Story will follow the events of the show as much as possible. How might have Jax’s story changed with a different woman in his life.

Word Count - 8152

Warnings - NSFW, Hardcore Smut, Violence, Angst, Adult Language, Dark Themes, Fluff, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Accident, Mentions of Physical and Emotional Abuse, Self-Harm. Drinking.

Will add to the warnings as the story progresses. Warnings cover the whole series. Some parts will be more mild than others.

A/N - Feedback is welcomed and encouraged, and may help motivate me to continue. All mistakes are my own. If you would like to be tagged in future parts, please send me an ask to be added to the list.

I know this chapter has been a long time coming. Just took me awhile to get the pieces to fit into the right place. I can only hope that I did it justice. This chapter ended up being twice as long as I expected. I hope that helps make up for the long ass wait…. Oh and there is an added bonus at the end of the chapter…..Smut….If you’re into that kind of thing. I apologize in advance if it sucks…. Been a long time since I’ve written steamy sex scenes. Thanks for following along on this crazy ride.

Katrina spent the week following her father’s funeral preparing the house to put up for sale. She had no desire to continue living in the house that harbored so many bad memories. Her only regret is that bad memories out weigh the good ones involving her mom. She went through all of her father’s belongings. She saved the important stuff, family mementos that mainly involved her mom, some things from her father’s past that she’s curious about, and some items from her childhood. She was surprised to find a shoebox in her closet filled with notes that her, Jax and Opie passed to each other in school. She knew that she should throw them away, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. The stuff she didn’t want to keep was piled up in the driveway under the carport beside the garage for the local thrift store to pick up.

She is leaving the furniture in the house at the recommendation of the Realtor. He told Katrina that having furniture in the house gives potential buyers a better idea of the size of the rooms. Katrina doesn’t really care either way, the furniture will be donated as soon as the house sells. The old Dodge Challenger in the garage Katrina plans to keep. Even if she has to rent a storage unit to store it in until she finds a new place to call home. She is only keeping the bare necessities in the house for her to use until she leaves.

She has to admit that she’s a little relieved that she hasn’t had any unexpected guests. Everything has been pretty quiet since the funeral, other than the explosion that occurred the night before last, on the outskirts of town. She can’t help but wonder if Samcro was somehow involved with it. Maybe that was why Jax hasn’t tried to stop by.

Katrina spent some time pouring over the old photos in her father’s stuff. On the back of the photo of him dressed in Native American regalia was written “Pine Ridge Res”. She wondered if maybe his family lived on the reservation. Maybe she had an aunt or uncle still living there. She was seriously considering taking a drive up there to investigate. Hopefully learn more about his past, so maybe she can understand why he became such a bitter asshole of a father. South Dakota might also be a good place to get a fresh start, away from Charming and far away from Vince.

Katrina puts the photos in an envelope and places it with her duffle in her bedroom. She fixes herself something to eat once she realizes that it’s already evening time. While she is eating, she thinks about the meal Gemma prepared for the dinner after her father’s funeral. She still feels a little guilty for leaving the way that she did. Gemma has a good heart, and has always treated Katrina like family, even if she has a tendency to meddle. Katrina knows in her heart it wouldn't feel right to just leave town without expressing her gratitude to Gemma for all of her help. Once Katrina finishes eating, she cleans up then grabs her jacket. She’s getting a little stir crazy at the house and decides to head over to TM to see if Gemma is still there working in the office. It’s getting a little late, but she remembers Gemma used to work all hours of the day and evening depending on how busy they were.

As Katrina rode her Harley to the shop she knew she was taking a chance on running into Jax. Hopefully he’ll be out doing club stuff, and won’t notice her there. When she pulled into the parking lot at Teller Morrow it was mostly empty save a couple cars and bikes. She parks her bike near the office, relieved to see Gemma’s car parked near the door. When Katrina turns off her bike, she’s surprised that there’s no loud rowdy music coming from the clubhouse. It’s actually pretty quiet. There is light filtering from the office window, so she’s fairly confident that Gemma’s inside. Katrina quietly walks inside the open door, catching Gemma off guard.

“Hey baby, what brings you by?” Gemma asks with concern in her voice. Katrina notices that Gemma looks tired, like the weight of the world is resting on her shoulders.

“I wanted to apologize for leaving the dinner the way I did last week. I feel really bad about it, especially after everything you did to help. I think all the emotions were getting to me, and it was hard listening to all the stories about my father.” Katrina sincerely expresses to Gemma.

Gemma gestures to the chair next to desk, and Katrina takes a seat. “That’s ok baby, I know how hard it is to lose someone. It can take a minute to process everything going on. How are you doing now?” Gemma asks while lightly rubbing Katrina’s arm that is resting on the corner of her desk.

“Better. I cleaned out the rest of the house, got it listed with a real estate agent.” Katrina replies.

Gemma looks a little surprised. “So I guess that means you’re not planning on sticking around.”

Katrina can hear the disappointment in Gemma’s voice. “I don’t belong in Charming anymore. Never really did. I’ll probably stick around for a little bit to make sure everything goes ok with the showings of the house. Then I’m probably gonna take off.”

Gemma shakes her head at Katrina’s first comment. “You’ve always belonged here, Kat. I know Jax and Opie have missed you. I’ve missed you. You were like the daughter I never had. Don’t ever feel like you don’t belong here. You’re family.” Gemma looks Katrina straight in the eyes as she grips her arm.

Katrina sighs as she looks away. If only Gemma knew the truth about her father, maybe she’d understand why this town carried so many bad memories for her. Not to mention the whole Jax and Tara thing. “How are things going here? The clubhouse is pretty quiet.” Katrina asks trying to change the subject.

Gemma loosens her grip on Katrina’s arm. “Been a busy last few days. The club’s dealing with a Mayan problem. Jax’s junkie whore of an ex-wife, Wendy, just gave birth to his son. We don’t know yet if the baby is going to make it. He was born 10 weeks premature with a tear in his abdomen and the family flaw. I just got back to the office after spending a few hours trying to straighten up Jax’s house from the mess his ex left.” Gemma grabs a cigarette from her pack on the desk and lights it.

Katrina is in shock. She didn’t know Jax had an ex-wife and a newborn baby. “Wow. I had no idea.” She’s a little surprised that he was involved with a different women. She had alway imagined that he’d be married to Tara.

“Yeah, it’s been a little crazy around here.” Gemma sighs. “Jax won’t see his son in the hospital. Something about not wanting to get attached incase he doesn’t make it. Which is bullshit, he just doesn’t want to get his heart broken.” Gemma looks at Katrina with a pleading look in her eyes. “Do you think you could talk to him?” Gemma asks hopeful.

Katrina feels uncomfortable with the request. “I don’t know about that.” She tries to decline gently, shaking her head.

“Please, Kat. He won’t listen to me. You and him were so close. Maybe he’ll listen to you.” Gemma pleads.

Ugg. It was the last thing Katrina wanted to do. Get in the middle of family drama. She really doesn't feel it’s her place to get involved, especially since she’s been gone for so long. She’s not as close to Jax as she used to be. She has been trying to avoid that. But seeing Gemma upset breaks her heart. “Ok. I’ll try to talk to him. I can’t make any guarantees that he’ll listen though.” Katrina reluctantly agrees.

“Thank you, Kat. He’s in the clubhouse.” Gemma looks relieved.

Oh shit, right now? Katrina wasn’t expecting to have to do it so soon. She was hoping to have the night to think about how to approach Jax. Katrina reluctantly gets out of her seat followed by Gemma. Gemma takes Katrina in her arms and gives her a little squeeze. “Thank you baby.” Gemma whispers in her ear.

Katrina gives Gemma a light pat on the back before walking out of the office. As she walks to towards the clubhouse she takes deep breaths of the cool evening air trying to steel her nerves. Mentally preparing herself for all the questions she’s sure to get bombarded with. When she enters the clubhouse, all the memories of her, Jax and Opie running around came flooding back to her. It was where she had her first shot of whiskey on a dare, learned to play poker, rocked out to loud music, and almost had her first kiss. It felt like home.

It was pretty quiet inside the clubhouse, with the exception of music playing at a low volume. She was surprised that there was no one there besides Jax. She spotted him at one of the tables, lost in thought and milking a bottle of whiskey. “So I hear congratulations are in order.” Katrina startles Jax from his drink.

Jax looks up in surprise at the intrusion. “You must have been talking to mom.” He sourly replies.

“Jackson Teller, a father.” Katrina teases him as she nears the table.

“Yeah, for how long.” Jax grumbles.

“Your mom said that you haven’t seen your son yet. Why not?” She asks as she takes a seat at the table across from Jax. She notices the sadness in his eyes at the question.

“Don’t really want my heart broken.” Jax replies, staring at the amber liquid in his glass.

“Yeah, she mentioned the heart defect and stomach issues. Something about a junkie whore. Regardless of that, if it was my son, I would be spending every second I could with him.” Katrina tries to encourage him. “Besides that, he’s got a tough as nails father, so he’s gonna be a little fighter. He’ll pull through.”

Jax smiles a little at that last comment. “So what brings you by? Besides doing mom’s dirty work.”

Katrina knows Jax is trying to change the subject. At least she can tell Gemma she tried. “I came by to apologize to your mom about leaving the dinner early after the funeral.”

Jax nods his head softly. “Yeah, everyone was disappointed you left.” Especially me.

“I thought I could handle hearing the stories about my father, but it got to be a little too much to handle at that moment. Brought up a lot of memories.” Bad memories.

“So where have you been for the last 11 years.” Jax asks pointedly.

And so it begins. Katrina can’t help but wonder if it’s too late to walk out the door. She knew Jax was going to have questions, and she had really hoped to avoid them. She gets up from the table to grab herself a shot glass and a coke from the bar, before returning to her seat. This conversation is going to require an excessive amount of alcohol. She grabs the bottle of whiskey sitting in front of Jax and pours herself a shot. Katrina quickly downs the shot, welcoming the burn of the amber liquid as it travels down her throat. She then takes a sip of the coke to calm the burn. Jax patiently waits for her response, taking a drag from the cigarette in his hand.

“When I left Charming, I bought a bus ticket to Vegas. I got a job working at a casino restaurant as a server, and then I found myself an apartment. I became really good friends with a tattoo artist at a parlor in the casino. He let me apprentice under him and has been teaching my how to tattoo and the ins and outs of the business. One day, I hope to have my own shop.” Katrina decides to leave out the part about Vince.

Jax is surprised. The club has a charter in Vegas that he’s visited numerous times over the years. If only he had known Kat was there too. He might have been able to convince her to come home sooner. At the very least, been able to visit her. He’s missed his best friend. When Katrina left, it hurt more than when Tara left for school. It wasn’t until she left that he realized how wrong he was for not pursuing a relationship with her, despite his fears.

“I have to say, I’m a bit surprised that you and Tara aren’t married with a few little ones running around. And what’s this about a ‘junkie whore’?” Katrina asks. Turn about is fair play.

Jax lets out a soft sigh. “Tara left shortly after you did. She went to the university to become a doctor. Then she went out to Chicago to intern at a hospital. She begged me to go with her. To get out of this ‘cess pool of a town’, but Charming is my home. She was pissed that I prospected into the club with Opie, even though it’s what I always wanted. To follow in my father’s footsteps, and be a part of the club that he helped build. We fought about our futures, more than we got along. We started to grow distant from each other. I wasn’t to heartbroken when she left, like I thought I would be. I was more upset about you leaving than her, even though mom blames her for breaking my heart.” Jax confesses. “Tara just recently returned home and is working at St. Thomas hospital.”

Katrina shakes her head, not surprised about Tara trying to change Jax. She had tried to warn him when they were teenagers, but she had alway felt her comments fell on deaf ears. Some people have to learn the hard way. Katrina pours herself another shot and quickly downs it.

“The junkie whore is my ex-wife, Wendy. She was a club hang-around. Her and I started spending a lot of time together. For me, it was about fighting the loneliness I felt after you left. I never really loved her. We got married a few years ago. She started using drugs, so we grew apart. Separated for awhile. Then she got clean, and did a stint in rehab. We tried to make things work again and got back together. That’s when she got pregnant with my son. Things just didn’t line up for us. I wasn’t happy, so we started growing distant again. I filed for divorce a few months ago. Told her I’d help pay the doctor bills for the pregnancy. Haven’t heard from her in a while. Apparently she started using again even though she was pregnant. Mom went over to our house yesterday and found her passed out on the kitchen floor, bleeding between her legs, with a needle stuck in between her fingers. Mom rushed her to the hospital where they preformed an emergency c-section. My son was born 10 weeks premature with a tear in his abdomen and the family flaw. He only has a 20% chance of survival. I should have kept a closer eye on them, maybe this wouldn't have happened” Jax replies with regret heavy in his voice.

“You can’t blame yourself. If she wanted the drugs bad enough, there’s nothing you could have done to stop her. She would have found a way.” Katrina tries to alleviate some of his guilt.

“That may be so, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I did beat the shit out of the dealer that has been supplying her with the poison. Wendy apologized for what she did and promised that she’s going to get clean, but it’s going to take some time to rebuild that trust. I think she’s more worried about being charged with fetal abuse, then she is about our son. If Gemma has her way, Wendy won’t be a part of our son’s life. I can’t say I disagree with mom on that.” Jax has a defeated look on his face as he pours himself another shot.

Katrina matches Jax’s shot with one of her own. She’s starting to feel a buzz from the alcohol, but she’s not sure if it’s enough to get through the questions that she knows are coming. She isn’t slurring her speech yet, but it is getting a little easier to talk. It almost feels like old times, chatting with her best friend… almost.

“So… Why did you leave town, without so much as a goodbye?” Jax asks while looking directly into Katrina’s eyes. He sees a momentary flash of pain cross Kat’s face.

There it is. The million dollar question. The one she was hoping to avoid. All the pain and bad memories came flashing back to the forefront of her mind. She knew deep down Jax has a right to know, but it didn’t make it any easier. She can’t help but fear that once he knows the truth about her father, he’ll look at her differently. With pity, or guilt for not realizing what was going on and stopping it. She doesn’t want him to feel sorry for her, she fought her own way out and it made her stronger.

Kat pours herself another shot and takes a sip of it before answering him. “One of the reasons I left was to get away from my abusive asshole of a father. Shortly after my mom died, my father started to become distant to me. It was like the sight of me reminded him of what he lost. Almost like he blamed me for her death, even though she died from cancer. He would loose his temper over the smallest things. That lead to him breaking things around the house. If there were dirty dishes left in the sink, he would throw them across the room shattering them against the wall. If I left my backpack on the floor after school, he’d toss it. He started punching holes in the walls, kicking down doors. After while the only thing that seemed to calm him was liquor. As soon as he arrived home from work he’d grab a beer from the fridge, sometimes a couple of them. When the beer started losing its effectiveness he started drinking more hard liquor and getting into drug use. That’s when I started to become his punching bag. If I got in his way he’d hit or kick me. If he felt I was talking back to him he’d slap me across my face. He told me I was worthless, that I was no better than garbage, and that he couldn’t wait until I was no longer his problem.”

Katrina lightly rubbed the small row of scars near wrist with her thumb, slightly hidden by the skeleton torso tattoo on her forearm. She remembers the pain she felt inside from her father’s words and the relief she felt cutting herself with the small knife she kept in her pocket. She never cut herself deep enough for there to be very much blood, just enough for the physical pain of the blade sliding across her skin to distract her from the pain in her heart.

She glances at Jax’s face and sees the shock and anger in his eyes. Before she continues, she grabs a cigarette from the pack on the table, lights it, then takes a deep drag off it to calm her nerves.”That’s why I used to wear long sleeve shirts and jeans in the middle of summer. To hide all the bruises and scratches on my arms and legs. I stayed out as late as possible with you and Opie, hoping that my father would be passed out before I got home. Some times I’d get lucky and he’d be asleep on the couch, other times I was greeted with him calling me a slut or a whore for staying out so late with the guys. I tried to avoid him as much as possible. When it got closer to graduation I started planning my escape. I saved as much money as I could from my after school job, and used it to buy a bus ticket. I just always seemed to be in the way. So when I got old enough, I got out of the way”

"Why didn't you say something? Tell us that was going on.” Jax is heartbroken and angry to find out that his best friend had been suffering and he did nothing to stop it. He remembered the nights when he, Katrina and Opie hung out. Remembered her reluctance to go home when Gemma said it was time to get ready for bed. Or the nights Katrina begged him to hang out for just one more hour, even though it was already getting pretty late.

"What? So that you could 'save me'. I didn't want your pity or for you to feel sorry for me. I didn't need you to fight my battles.” Katrina defends her silence on the matter, a hint of scorn in her voice.

"So you run away instead? Leave behind every one you've ever known. The people that love and care about you." Jax accuses her, the hurt evident in his eyes.

"Seems to me like you were busy loving someone else." Katrina mumbles under her breath.

Jax gives Katrina a confused look. He wasn’t sure he heard her right, but he had a feeling she was referring to his relationship with Tara. “Now that your father is gone, are you planning on sticking around Charming?” Jax asks, hopeful that there may be an opportunity for them to spend more time together. To reconnect.

Katrina sighs before downing the rest of her shot. “I put the house on the market. The stuff I plan on keeping I’m going to get a storage unit for until I find a new place. I’m not planning on going back to Vegas, but I am thinking of heading north. Maybe towards the Dakotas.” She sees the disappointment on Jax’s face.

“I was kind of hoping that you were going to stick around for a bit.” So maybe I could change your mind about leaving. Jax feels crestfallen, his heart is pounding in fear that she’ll leave and he’ll never get a chance to find out if they would be good together. Ever since Katrina returned to Charming, the what if’s and should’ve beens have been plaguing Jax’s mind. He knows now that it was a mistake hooking up with Tara back in high school. It should have been Kat. She always understood him, never made him feel that he had to choose between her or the club. Things might have been so different for both of them.

“I was going to stick around for maybe another week or two, just to make sure there are no problems with showing the house. Incase something major needs to be fixed.” Katrina reassures Jax, although, by the look of his face he’s not.

“So are you seeing anyone?” Jax isn’t sure he really wants to know the answer, but he can’t help himself. He has to know if she’s involved with another man. If there is even the slightest chance he can convince her to stay.

“I was, but it’s over now.” She really doesn’t want to elaborate on her relationship with Vince, and she hopes that answer is enough to appease Jax.

Jax feels a flicker of hope. “You said your dad was one of the reasons why you left, were there any other reasons?” Despite what Kat was going through with her dad treating her like shit, Jax still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that she would just leave. Without any warning or even a goodbye. They were best friends. He has never felt as close to another person as he did her, and for her to disappear the way she did, crushed him. He has a feeling there is more to the story.

Katrina groans inwardly at the question, but at this point, with the alcohol coursing through her veins she feels there is no point in holding back. She has already confessed one of her darkest secrets by revealing her past with her father, what’s one more secret. It’s not like it can change the past.

“The other reason I left was because it killed me seeing you and Tara together. I’ve had feelings for you since we were kids. I thought as we grew up and got older those feelings would change, but they never did. I was in love with you and it broke my heart seeing you with her.” Katrina confesses feeling extremely exposed. She just laid her heart and soul on the table.

Jax is blown away by her answer. He feels a sense of relief that she shares his feelings. He knew she cared about him when they were younger, but he always felt that she probably cared about him in a sort of brother sister way. To find out that she was in love with him made his heart soar, and gave him even more hope that there is a chance they could be together. If he can convince her to stay and give them a chance. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt?” Jax asks, even though he can guess her answer.

“I was afraid you didn't feel the same way towards me, and it would just come across as jealously towards Tara. That it would change the way you felt around me, the way you acted around me. I was afraid of losing my best friend.” Katrina admits.

Jax feels like a dumbass now. All this time wasted that they could have been together. If they wouldn’t have been so afraid to tell each other. “I also have something to confess. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Since we were kids.”

Katrina looks at Jax with surprise on her face. She never expected to hear those words come out of his mouth. Maybe he didn’t mean it. Maybe it was the whiskey talking. "So why didn't you ever tell me how you felt?" Katrina asks, genuinely intrigued.

"Because I was terrified that if or when I fucked things up between us, I would not only lose the woman I loved, but I'd also lose my best friend. It wasn’t until after you left that I realized the mistake I made. And I lost you anyways." Jax admits, his voice filled with sadness and regret.

“If you had feelings for me, then why did you hook up with Tara?” Katrina asks in confusion.

“I had some feelings for Tara, but I don’t think I was ever truly in love with her. She was more of a distraction from my feelings for you. Same with Wendy. Every time I was with them, it was your face I saw.” Jax feels a little weird for revealing that part, but it was the truth. Every woman he’s been with he pictured Kat’s face. Wished it was her, he was with.

“When you were dating Tara, I always felt invisible to you. I felt like you saw me as just one of the guys. You started to become distant to me, so I started spending more time with Opie. It seemed like every time you paid even a little bit of attention to me, Tara would snatch it away. It got to the point, where I started avoiding you, to keep myself from getting hurt.” Katrina confesses.

Jax winces at her words. He hates himself for how he hurt her, even though that was never his intention. In his mind, he was trying to protect her and their friendship, by avoiding what his heart yearned for. “I am so sorry, Kat. I never meant to hurt you. I was just trying to bury my feelings for you because I was afraid. I was afraid you didn’t feel the same way towards me and I’d ruin our friendship. I didn’t want to lose you. You have no idea how much I regret those decisions.” Jax sincerely apologizes. He takes Katrina’s hand into his and looks into her eyes. The years of pain and hurt shine in her eyes and he feels heartbroken that he caused some of that pain.

“Yeah, well, that’s all in the past.” Katrina tries to brush it off. She still feels the sting of all those memories, even if it feels like a lifetime ago.

“What if we gave us a shot?” Jax asks, hopefulness in voice. He has vowed to himself that if the opportunity ever came up to be with Kat, that he wouldn’t hesitate.

Katrina looks at Jax in surprise at his question. She feels butterflies in her stomach at the prospect of finally getting what she had always wanted. To finally be with the man that she has been in love with most of her life, but another part of her feels cautious. “I don’t know, Jax. A lot has changed since we were kids. We’re not the same people we were back then. We’ve both changed. Hell, you’re a father now, and VP of SAMCRO.” Katrina is trying to rationalize in her head why this is a bad idea, even though her heart is pounding with excitement. The alcohol running through her veins isn't helping the situation.

“Come on Kat. We both have feelings for each other. I know the first time I laid eyes on you, when you got back into town, I felt butterflies in my stomach. All of those old feelings I had for you came rushing back. I can’t stop thinking about you, and how much I want you in my life.” Jax pleads with her. He has never wanted something as bad as this. To make a life with Kat by his side.

Katrina hesitates to give Jax an answer. This isn’t something to just rush into, especially with her alcohol hazed brain. She needs some time to think this through. She is supposed to be getting out of Charming, not tying herself down. She can’t help but be concerned about Vince. What if he tries to track her down. As much as she hopes that he’ll take the hint, that she’s not coming back, she can’t help but fear that he won’t be so willing to let her go. Even though she has no doubt that Jax will do everything in his power to protect her, she doesn’t feel it should have to be his problem.

“Jax, it’s not that easy. We both have other things going on in our lives. There’s no guarantee that us being together will even work.” Katrina tries to dissuade him. She doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something that may just be a pipe dream.

“At least we could try. If it doesn’t work then so be it, but I can’t live with the what ifs and could have beens without at least giving it a chance.” Jax tries his best to convince her. If he has to get down on his knees and beg he’s not afraid to do it.

“Maybe we should think this though. Preferably when we’re both not drunk.” A part of Kat wants to say yes….god yes… but she also doesn’t want to agree to something she might regret.

Jax is a little disappointed in Kat’s hesitation, but at least she hasn't said no yet. There may be hope.

Katrina gets up from her chair, her legs feel a bit wobbly. “I should probably head home, it’s getting late.”

“Like hell, you are” Jax replies a little too sharply, while grabbing the keys to her bike off the table. He rises from his seat to face her.

Katrina stares daggers at Jax, a little miffed at his tone. If he thinks he can control her and what she does, he’s got another think coming.

Jax quickly realizes how that came across. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out that way. It’s just, we’ve both been drinking…a lot. You’ve pretty much matched me shot for shot. I wouldn’t feel safe getting on my bike right now, and I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to either. I’d hate to wake up in the morning, and find out that you wrapped your bike around a tree or something. You should probably crash here tonight.” Jax tries to explain.

Katrina is a little relieved at Jax explanation. It makes sense, although she’s not sure its a great idea to spend the night at the club house.

Jax approaches Kat, the draw of being near her to great to deny. He gently places his hand on her check, the memory of the bruise around her eye flashes across his mind. His thumb lightly caresses her check bone, but when there is no flinch from her, he is relieved that the wound has healed. He still feels that flash of anger that anyone would dare to raise a hand to her. He slowly lowers his lips to hers, aching to feel their softness against his. He has longed to kiss her for as long as he can remember.

Katrina is a little nervous at Jax’s closeness, but her body is quick to respond despite the warnings in her mind. When she feels Jax’s lips against hers an excitement courses through her veins. The feel of his velvety lips against hers was almost as intoxicating as the whiskey they have been drinking. Jax’s hands start slowly sliding down Katrina’s neck then around to her back, where he gently coaxes her into an embrace. Her body melds to his like it was made for it.

As the kiss deepens, warning bells go off in Katrina’s head. Her rational mind warns her that she should stop this from going any further, but years of pent up longing urge her to keep going. Katrina is swept up in the smells of leather, smoke and light cologne, with a hint of vanilla that seemed uniquely Jax. Before she realizes what is happening, she feels Jax’s hands lightly caress the sides of her breasts before traveling down her waist to rest on her hips. He draws her hips in closer to his and she can feel the evidence of his arousal. His breathing gets heavier, and Katrina feels the butterflies in her stomach.

Even though in her mind she knew this was a bad idea, Jax was like a drug, and she was jonesing for a hit. There was a passion between her and Jax that she had never felt with Vince. Maybe it was because it had been building since their youth. The feelings they had been holding back finally able to be explored. Katrina gives as much as she takes, returning Jax’s kiss with a fever of her own. She lightly rubs the tip of her tongue on Jax’s lips until he grants her access to his mouth. She hears his groan as he starts grinding his erection into her stomach. Jax starts guiding her to his dorm room without breaking the kiss. By the time they enter the room, they are both breathing heavily. Jax kicks the door shut with his foot, not wanting to break contact with Kat.

Katrina reaches for Jax’s belt intent on releasing it as she starts to kneel down in front of him. Jax grabs her arms and lifts her back up. “As much as I’d love to see your beautiful face going down on me, I want tonight to be all about you. I want to show you how strong my feelings are for you.” Jax expresses to her.

This is a new experience for Katrina, and she can’t help but feel a little excited about it. When she was with Vince, it was all about what he wanted and how he wanted it. Often times it seemed their lovemaking was very one sided, with her left feeling unsatisfied. Like she was just a toy for his pleasure.

Jax cups Katrina’s face and gives her another soul searing kiss. She can’t get enough of the taste and feel of his lips on hers. His hands wander down to the hem of her shirt and he gently lifts it up. They break the kiss long enough to get the shirt over her head. Jax then goes after Katrina’s belt, pulling it loose from its buckle, then he quickly releases the button on her dark jeans. He slowly slides her jeans down her legs then ghosts his fingers over her panty clad pussy. He smiles when he hears her sharp intake of breath. Katrina toes off her boots then slides the jeans off the rest of the way.

Jax takes a step back to take in Kat’s beauty while he kicks off his own shoes. Her black bra and panties compliment her tanned skin. He takes off his kutte and drapes it over the back of a nearby chair. The question of whether Katrina has more ink finally being answered. He has seen the tattoos on her arms, but now he’s seeing a large dreamcatcher on one of her sides and a colorful feather on the other. There is a black crow with a purple background on her collarbone and an angry wolf surrounded by roses on her thigh. He can’t help but admire the art adorning her body and is surprised that he finds himself getting even more aroused seeing it.

Jax guides Katrina to the bed where she sits on the edge and watches as he removes his pants and white t-shirt. He tosses them onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Jax approaches her in just his boxers not bothering to hide the fact that his cock is straining against the material. He tilts her face up for a quick kiss before his lips and tongue start wandering down her neck. He can’t help himself as he leaves a small hickey just above her collarbone. Jax caresses her breasts over the fabric of her bra, before reaching around to unclasp it and watching in awe as her perfect breasts are exposed. He takes one nipple into his mouth sucking and using his tongue to tease it into a peak, while he lightly caresses the other bud. His gently pinches and rolls her exposed nipple with his calloused fingers until it hardens and becomes sensitive. He then laves the other nipple with his tongue, sucking until he feels Kat squirm. Kat feels a tingling sensation travel from her stomach to her core. She can feel wetness gathering in her panties.

Jax lightly pushes on Katrina’s shoulders, encouraging her to lay back on the bed. Settling between her thighs he continues to lavish her body with attention, kissing and licking his way down to her panties. He starts rubbing her clit lightly through her underwear, just enough to cause her to squirm towards his hand. Her breathing becomes erratic, hitching every time his fingers touches the right spot. He can sense a bit of frustration from her at his teasing, causing his lips to curl into a smirk. Finally Jax runs his fingers along the top edge of her panties, slowly pulling them down her thighs, and leaving a trail of kisses and licks in their wake.

That first flick of Jax’s tongue on Katrina’s clit causes an explosion of sensations coursing through her body. She can’t remember the last time someone went down on her, making this time feel like the first time. Jax’s warm breath, and the feel of his whiskers rubbing on her most sensitive area threatening to send her over the edge. Jax can sense her body tensing up, like a coil ready to snap, so he starts kissing the inside of her thighs to give her a chance calm. Once her breathing returns to some semblance of normal he focuses his attention back on her core. The light ghosting of his tongue in her folds and around that little bundle of nerves feels like heaven to Kat. It doesn’t last long though. Jax quickly starts licking and sucking her bud like a man starved for water.

“God baby, you taste like honey to me, and I can’t get enough.” Jax praises her between breaths, as he laps up her juices.

It takes everything inside of Kat not to lose control. She runs her fingers through Jax’s hair as he continues his assault on her clit. His tongue then prodding her slit, going directly to the source of her sweetness. Katrina’s moans increase, and Jax’s name becomes a silent prayer. She then feels his finger teasing at her entrance. Lightly caressing through her folds, gathering moisture before sliding the slender digit inside her. He pumps his finger in and out, surprised at how tight she is. The feeling of her walls clenching on his finger sending a fresh surge of arousal straight to his already straining cock. He could tell the tip of it was already leaking pre-cum. Jax adds another finger inside her to help prepare her for what’s to come. He twists his fingers around and starts doing a come hither motion. Jax quickly finds that little bundle of nerves inside her that will probably be her undoing. He can feel her clench around his fingers and her thighs start to squeeze. Kat starts pulling his hair as he continues licking her clit and rubbing that hidden gem inside her. He can tell Kat is getting close to her release by her ragged breathing and the tightening of her muscles.

“Fuck, Jax, don’t stop.” Katrina manages between shuddering breaths. She can feel the knots in her stomach unraveling. Her impending orgasm right on the cusp of sending her over the edge. Her moans get louder the closer she gets.

“It’s ok baby, you can let go.” Jax encourages her. “Cum for me. Give me some more of that sweet nectar.”

That is her undoing. Jax’s husky voice beckoning her to release the flood gates. Wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over her. Her vision starts to fade and she is seeing stars. Her body shudders and her juices dribble straight into Jax’s waiting mouth. Jax laps every bit of it up as he slows the movement of his fingers. He tries to ease her down from her climax before removing his fingers.

When Kat’s breathing returns to normal she looks down at Jax’s smiling face. The evidence of her release glistening on he mustache and beard. Jax gently withdraws his fingers from inside her pussy, and she instantly feels a void. “I need you inside me.” There is a hunger in her eyes as Kat pleads to Jax. She wants…no needs, more.

Jax stands up and removes his boxers, finally unleashing the beast. Katrina is a little taken back by the size of his cock. She had no idea he was packing that much heat. Explains the loose fitting jeans. She feels a rush of excitement, and maybe a little bit of fear that it’s going to hurt. Jax sees her concern and reminds himself to take it slow, give her some time to adjust. She is nothing like the crow-eaters he’s fucked, girls that have taken so many dicks it a wonder they can feel anything.

“Do you have a condom?” Katrina timidly asks, suddenly nervous. Jax has already produced one son, she doesn’t want to take any chances that tonights actions result in another.

“Yeah, I do.” Jax can’t help but feel a little bummed about not being able to experience her pussy bareback, but he understands. He reaches into the nightstand drawer and pulls out a little foil package. Katrina watches in fascination as he tears it open with his teeth and pulls out the rubber. Jax strokes his straining cock a couple times then rolls the condom down from the tip to the base.

Katrina scoots up the bed giving Jax room to join her. He settles between her legs and pulls her face in for another passionate kiss. He then guides his cock to her core rubbing the head along her folds, gathering her wetness to help ease his passage. He lines himself up and slowly pushes his cock into her wet slit, going an inch at a time. He slowly rocks his hips back and forth, gaining an inch each time he pushes forward. When he finally bottoms out, he pauses for a moment, giving Kat time to adjust to his girth. When Jax stops, Katrina releases the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She has never felt this full before. There is a slight burning from the stretch in her pussy, as well as an intense pleasure at the fullness.

“Relax your muscles, baby. It’ll help.” Jax whispers in her ear, concern in his tone.

After a few calming breaths, Kat feels ready for him to start moving again. She tilts her pelvis towards him, and then gives him a slight nod. Jax sets a slow pace at the beginning. The feeling of her tight, constricting walls threatening to send him over the edge. He feels like a damn teenager, ready to blow his load after only a few quick pumps. It takes every ounce of his control to prevent that from happening.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight.” Jax whispers almost reverently. He’s trying to stay in control, but he feels it slipping fast as he picks up the pace. Thrusting in and out, fast and faster. His balls crashing against her ass, as her walls clench around him. The tip of his cock brushing against her cervix each time he bottoms out.

Katrina feels the knot in her stomach growing. Every time Jax trusts into her pussy a tingle travels down her spine and straight into her core. She can feel her climax quickly approaching. She wraps her arms around his chest, her nails digging into his back. The moans coming from her mouth getting louder and louder each time his cock brushes against her sweet spot.

Jax can feel her tightening around him, and he knows he’s not going to be able to last much longer. “It’s ok, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Jax reaches down to her clit, rubbing circles over it with his thumb.

Katrina is plunging over the edge as another intense orgasm rips through her body. Every nerve ending in her body is tingling as her juices coat Jax’s dick and balls. She clings to Jax’s body as she rides out the high. Jax follows her after a few more thrusts, a wave of euphoria washing over his body as his cock releases rope after rope of warm cum. Jax collapses next to her on the bed, then he draws her into his embrace. His twitching cock still nestled in her depths. They both lay there for a moment trying to catch their breath.

“That was amazing.” Jax says in awe, his breathing still labored. His fantasies of her never even coming close to the bliss he just experienced.

Katrina nods her agreement, exhaustion claiming her body. She nestles into Jax’s warmth as he squeezes her against him. Jax kisses the top of her head, as a feeling of contentment washes over him. He doesn’t want this night to end.

After a few minutes the twitching of Jax’s cock subsides and it begins to soften. He wraps his hand around the base of it to hold the condom in place as he withdraws it from Kat’s warm depths. Even as sleep starts to claim Kat, she can’t help the groan that escapes her mouth at the loss of the fullness in her pussy. Jax chuckles a little at the pout now gracing her face. He disposes of the condom in the trash, before heading into the bathroom to clean up. Once he is done cleaning himself, he returns to the bed with a warm washcloth to gently clean Kat. She flinches a little when he wipes around her sensitive bud. He has no doubt that she’s going to be a little sore tomorrow. When he finishes with the washcloth, he tosses it into a nearby laundry basket, before turning off the light. He climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers over them. Katrina seeks out his warmth again, resting her head on his chest as his arm wraps around her back drawing her close. Sleep quickly claims both of them.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Tagging: @momc95  @jerseynurse82

[kerie-prince]

We’re Worlds Apart (1)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj/Muggle fem!reader

Post-Battle of Hogwarts

warnings: language

series m.list | general m.list

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

(gif cred)

"They want... me?"

Draco Malfoy sat across his supervisor in his office at St. Mungos. His eyes widened at the offer he was given.

"Well Mr. Malfoy, you've certainly shown us around here that you do well at your job. If I must say so myself, I believe you're ready for the job," his boss has explained. Draco had recently finished his Fellowship and became a remarkable Healer. So much so that the Santa Marie Hospital for Maj Persons in Buffalo, New York contacted his supervisor to offer him a position as Head Healer. It was an incredible opportunity, one that a person could only dream of.

Draco sat still in his chair, shocked that of all Healers from his department, Santa Marie wanted him. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco was determined to change the views people had of him. He was no longer the prejudice prat that he was at school. Draco Lucius Malfoy is now a matured, capable young man. He worked hard and was proud that he did everything on his own. No help from daddy dearest, no pressure of the Malfoy name. It was all him.

"I would love to take this job. When would I start?"

Draco finished filing his paperwork at the Ministry of Magic that was to be sent to the Magical Congress of the United States containing his work permit and all the necessary identification. Walking around London, he grew excited about it. It was a feeling he hadn't felt since he got his letter for Hogwarts.

The next thing he has left to do was to find housing. There was an office located in Diagon Alley that specialized in international real estate. Draco walked into the brightly lit office. Much to his surprise, Daphne Greengrass stood at the reception desk.

"Well, well. Long time no see, Malfoy," she said with a smile on her lips. He was quite relieved to see a familiar face. "Good to see you too, Daph. I'm checking in to see Ms. Moreau. I'm moving to America soon." Daphne was both shocked and impressed that Draco would be making such a big move. They chatted momentarily about the reason for him moving and she congratulated him. Soon enough, the real estate agent walked out and called Draco into her office.

She sat at her desk and gestured for him to take the seat opposite her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy."

"The feeling is mutual, Ms. Moreau," Draco had slightly bowed his head.

"Please, call me Gwen," she smiled as she reached to shake his hand, "I see from your paperwork that you're moving to America, correct?" he nodded his head in response. "Fantastic! Now, looking at the locations for Buffalo, we have quite a bit of selections from houses to flats. Of course, in America they're called 'apartments'. With your budget, you would be able to get this nice house that is just a 10 minute drive to the Apparition office to Santa Marie's." She showed Draco pictures of the house. It was quaint. An all white, one story house that had three bedrooms, a lifted porch, small kitchen, two bathrooms, trimmed green grass in front and a dark stained wooden fence that went around the house. Draco nearly fell in love with it. Its contrast to the Malfoy Manor was warm and inviting.

Gwen had shown him pictures of the other places she had gathered for him, but none of them peeked his interest as the first house did. It was quite silly as he thought about it. Most likely, he would be working long hours at the hospital to even be able to appreciate the home. It made more sense to get an apartment as he would most likely just use the space to sleep and eat. But the house was begging for him to live there. After about an hour long session, Draco made his final decision on the small house.

"Excellent choice, I had hoped you'd love it. Now, before I contact the sellers about your offer, I must let you know this before you sign anything," Draco shifted in his seat. Of course there had to be a catch. A house this perfect needed one thing to go wrong. Was it busted windows? A terrible neighborhood? Shitty pipelines? He nodded for her to continue.

"This is an integrated neighborhood. Both muggles and wizards live around and you might not know which are which for a while." Muggles. He sat in silence, staring down at the photos of the house. Did he really want a muggle neighbor? No, you're past this Draco thought. The old Draco wouldn't even give the place a second thought. But he wasn't him anymore. "I don't care. I'll take it."

—

You woke up in the morning, stretching your arms and legs out of the thick blanket. It was currently 8:47 am, your alarm clock beside you still had 13 minutes to alert you to wake up. Deciding to just get a head start on the day, you walked into the your bathroom and started your shower. The water was at the hottest you took and you went about your daily routine. You said your repeated incantations in the shower as you lathered yourself with soap:

Water, water, wash away. Water, water, cleanse today.

Walking out your shower, you grabbed your towel and recited the next spell as you dried yourself:

By the earth in the soap,

by the air in the steam,

by the fire that heats the water,

by the water that cleanses,

I am cleansed, clean, and ready for the day.

When you were 12 years old, you used to watch your grandmother perform Wicca in her bedroom. Your mother didn't particularly join in on the belief, but also didn't oppose to you starting alongside your grandmother when you turned 18. Now, you were almost 26 and still kept on the same practices.

On the contrary to people's interpretation or views of witchcraft, you called yourself a White Witch; someone who performs good magick upon selfless reasons. You never hexed anyone nor wished any ill fate. The Laws of Nature was surely watching at all times and if you did, expect to get the same fate but in threefold. Not that you even had any reason to do such things, anyways.

After getting ready, you grabbed your bag, keys — which held a protection charm — and went on your way to work. Your cat sat in her tower located in your living room and she watched you walk out. Getting into your car, you noticed movement next door. A big, moving truck was parked and a crew of movers carried furniture into the house. Finally, someone new you thought.

Feeling nosy, you sat patiently to figure out who it was moving next door. Was it a family? An elderly couple? Maybe newlyweds. Right when you were about to pull out of your driveway, a handsome blond stepped out of the house guiding the movers where things were going to be placed. You couldn't hear his voice, but could tell from the distance that it had to be attractive.

He looked around the street and caught you starting from your car. You hesitantly raised your hand to wave at him but was cut off by a man walking up to him with a clipboard gesturing where to sign. You looked at the time on your watch and nearly panicked at how the time passed, leaving you with only 15 minutes to get to work. Hauling ass, your car let a screech out as your foot punched the gas pedal. You'll be able to introduce yourself later, Y/N.

—

A few days passed and Draco was headed for the Apparition office to his new workplace. He had leased a new car to drive there. According to the Magical Congress, wizards and witches that lived in integrated neighborhoods must check in at Apparition offices to not raise suspicions from No-Maj. Seemed quite silly at first, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. He remembers the first time he went to Diagon Alley with his father through the Leaky Cauldron, finding it hidden with a wall that required taps against it. Behind it, a magical alley hidden from muggles.

He pulled into the office building lot with ease. It was clean on the outside and had a sign on top that only read MCA Co,. At the front door, there was a pin pad with numbers on it that kept it locked. Draco pulled the paper from his pocket and dialed the number. The door made a clicking noise which signaled that it was unlocked.

In the front was a young man sat at a reception desk typing away onto a computer. It was a strange sight for Draco as he's never seen one before. He walked up to the desk and waited for the person to acknowledge him.

"Hello, sir. Welcome to the Magical Congress' Apparition Office. May I see your ID pass, please?"!the accent was unfamiliar to Draco, but he nonetheless reached for the pass clipped to his trousers and gave it to the receptionist. He scanned the pass, handed it back to Draco and raised up from his chair to guide Draco to the door which had a direct line to the hospital. "Have a good day, sir!" were his last words before he went back to his desk.

Draco looked at the address once more before appariting into Santa Marie's. Here goes nothing.

—

It was a long day at the office. Setting up appointments with new clients, greeting all the new people he'd be working with, and a surprise welcome party to end it. Everyone he met had different variations of American accents. Some from Chicago, some from California, and some from the native state of New York.

A man by the name of Ian Parker helped Draco navigate around the building. Draco was quite relieved to hear that Ian had lived close by, just two blocks and a turn away. They had lunch together and talked about just simple things about each other. It felt nice to meet somebody and they not know who you are and things you've done in the past.

Once he got home, the first thing Draco did was start to run the shower, gathering his sleepwear as the water heated up. Not meaning to, Draco noticed how his bedroom window had perfect view of yours. To him, it was extremely odd.

You had faux vines that curled around your four-poster bed, a couple of plants that hung against the wall and posters of movies that Draco knows for a fact he's never seen in his life. You walked into your room and went up to a small drawer and dug through it. After a few seconds, you grabbed out some incense sticks, lit them and stood them on the stand that laid on your dresser. Afterwards, you sat on the floor with your legs crossed and started taking deep breaths.

Draco caught himself staring for too long and was about to head into the shower until he saw movement from the corner of his eye. There you sat, but this time, you held items in your hands. One held what Draco thought to be just some colorful rocks. The other hand held a bundle of herbs on fire at the tips. Your lips moved and it had Draco curious. Your hand with the herbs moved in a specific pattern, creating smoke around you. Once you finished, you set the rocks and herbs down at a table and left the room. That was odd. Draco thought. He passed it off and went on about his night.

—

"It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen. And trust me when I say that Hogwarts has its fair shares of odd moments," Draco sat in the break room with Ian and two other people, Ashley and Blaine. They laughed at the description Draco had of you and settled after Ian began his explanation.

"It seems that your No-Maj neighbor is considered a Wiccan." What in Merlin's name is that?

"Pardon? What's do you mean?"

"It's what they call witchcraft," Ashley added, "it became a popular thing after the Salem Witch Trials. Of course, there's no real magic to it like what we can do, but they nonetheless believe it works."

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. Muggles are trying to be witches? This was probably the last thing he ever thought he would hear. Inside, a familiar feeling had ignited. A feeling he had, or he supposed still had, for a certain species. He didn't like it but to find out that what he is had become a fantasy to be was upsetting. He was born into this life, not them. Not you.

—

It had been a really nice day at work. People had been kind and you sold out of a new oil you made. As you entered your home, your cat ran up to your legs and purred against you. You smile down at her and made your way to prepare your dinners.

She nibbled away at her bowl and you watched in content.

Outside, you heard a car pulling in. It's probably him. You peaked out the window in the living room and your guess was correct. He stepped out of a black car and walked to his door. You tried catching his attention by waving your arms about, hoping he glanced your way. When he did, you waved excitedly to him.

He stared at you with a straight face, no hint of any feeling. It was odd, people usually like you and wave back but this guy was just looking at you. Not doing anything. You looked around to see if there was something behind you, only to look back and see that he was gone. Ooo...kay?

You grabbed your sweater and decided to introduce yourself to your new neighbor. It had been almost a week and it seemed that he still hadn't acquainted himself to anyone on the street. The cool, spring breeze sent a pleasant chill down your spine as you walked on the sidewalk.

Once you stepped in front his door, you knocked three times. No answer. Three more times. No answer. The lights that were on had turned off and curtains had been shut in almost a blink of an eye. He had made it clear that he was not in a mood to talk to anyone. It slightly hurt your feelings, but you told yourself to not dwell on it. He's just tired from work. Just then, an idea popped in your mind as you headed back home.

—

"Stupid fucking muggle clock," Draco cursed as he was running around his bedroom getting dressed. He overslept by an hour and had 10 minutes to be in the Apparition office to go to work. Damn American laws.

He grabbed an apple, not his usual sour green one but a sweet red one this time, grabbed his bag and ran for the front door. Something taped to the door caught his attention and he halted his movements. It seemed to have been a note someone left. He unfolded the paper and read it to himself;

Hello! My name's Y/N and I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood! I hope we can become good friends~ if there's anything you need or if you'd ever like to get acquainted over coffee, please feel free to knock on my door! It'd be nice to get to know you :)

At the bottom of the note was a small drawing of a witches pointed hat and Draco immediately knew who left the note. Almost on instinct, the note caught on fire in his hands and the ashes fell to the ground. He dusted his hand off and went to work. As if we would ever become friends.

—

next chp

taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter

[tomurasprincess]

Wraith’s Touch (Yandere Ghost Shigaraki x Reader)

Pairing: Shigaraki x Reader Triggers: Noncon, dubcon, somnophilia, voyeurism, choking, death, yandere. This is seriously dark, so beware. Word Count: 8.5k Note: I blame Cadence for making me thirsty for this idea.

~~~~

There was something creepy about the house, you thought, for what felt like the 50th time today.  It was a large, sprawling Victorian style estate, an old house even by your grandmother’s standards.  She had lived there alone for years and had refused to move, and she never would tell you why.  

You had stayed there before on summer break, when you were a teenager.  Although you always adored your grandmother, something about the house itself was unsettling.  You felt like you were being constantly watched, felt like things would move around in places where you did not think you had moved them.  You thought you saw shadows out of the corners of your eyes, heard strange voices in the middle of the night.

Your grandmother insisted nothing was wrong, that you were simply being paranoid and that she had never experienced anything like what you were describing.  You tried very hard to believe her, but it was hard to do that when you saw the worried look in her eyes, the tremble in her voice when she tried to say everything was okay.  Ultimately, she made an excuse of you needing to leave quickly, that something had come up.  So you had found somewhere else and hadn’t really seen her much after that.

She had died unexpectedly around a month ago, and with no other family to inherit her house and belongings, you were the one chosen to handle everything.  You hadn’t been quite as close to your grandmother since that summer at her house, a fact that you bitterly resented now.  But anytime you had tried to make plans to come visit, she would always tell you she was too busy and that you’d find another time to get together.

And now you were being willed her house, the one that had so many good memories of your grandmother, but also many unsettling ones.  You wish you could be going back to the house in better circumstances.

You lived 2 hours away from where the house was, and it made no sense to continue to stay there and make the drive every day as you sorted through everything in the house.  You had broken your lease, explaining about the death, and although your landlord wasn’t happy, he at least wasn’t angry.  

Now you are standing outside with a moving van, reminiscing about your past in this house. You sigh and shake your head, before going around to open the back of the van.  Your belongings all fit into one small van, since you didn’t have a ton of room in your old apartment. You had left a few things, mostly old furniture, back at the apartment for other people to take if they wanted.  This house was huge, and had enough furniture that you wouldn’t need all of your old stuff.

You grab a few boxes from the back of the van and walk to the front door before setting them aside to pull out the keys from your pocket.  You take a deep breath before putting the key in the lock and turning it, stepping into the house for the first time in several years.  

The feeling of being watched has not gone away since you were last here, the entire entryway feeling just a bit too claustrophobic. The air temperature of the house is cold, your breath puffing out in white clouds. Great, you think to yourself, I bet the air conditioning and heating unit is broken.  Will have to remember to call a repairman tomorrow.

You let out a sigh and pick the boxes back up, carrying them into the house. You tried to be efficient with the packing, marking all of the boxes according to what room they went on.  These boxes all went to whatever room you would choose as your bedroom.

Your grandmother’s room was technically the master bedroom of the house, but you don’t feel comfortable sleeping in there.  So you go down the hall from where her old bedroom was located, and open up the door to where you used to stay.  

The room was very similar looking to when you were there before, all the knick knacks and personal items still displayed around the room. The bed was neatly made, and the dresser still had a few small items of clothing that you had forgotten from when you left.

The one difference about the room was how oppressive the air is.  It seems to beat down on you, making the room feel like it’s closing in.   You had experienced some weird feelings in the house before, but never anything like this. You’re being ridiculous, you scold yourself. This is just a house, and you’re simply missing your grandma.

You shake your head at your thoughts and place the boxes down in the room, before turning around and walking to the door.  

As you reach for the doorknob, you hear a strange noise. You whirl your head around, looking through the room again but you see nothing.  Old houses make strange noises, you reason with yourself.

And yet you could have sworn it sounded like soft laughter.

~~~~

You collapse in an exhausted heap on the couch. You have finished moving and unpacking the boxes containing your own stuff, and you have started to go through your grandmother’s.

You haven’t even fully re-explored the house yet, and you still have so much to go through. It is much too large for you to consider living in permanently, and you intend to simply sell the house and buy a more modest one with the money from the sale and your inheritance.

But your grandmother had lived here for years, and the house had the accumulation of all that time of collecting items and knick knacks. It was going to take so long for you to go through everything, sorting what to keep and what to sell.

You want to get through this as quickly as possible. The house remains unsettling, and it only seemed to get worse. The atmosphere was still so heavy, almost like a physical presence beating down on you.  

The air conditioning and heating repairmen had shown up, only to find nothing wrong. But the house still had strange cold spots throughout, with no explanation for it.

You see shadows out of the corner of your eye, shadows that look people shaped. But when you turn your head around, you see nothing.

Sometimes you think you hear voices, laughter, coming from the dark places deep within the house. It is terrifying, despite how much you try to convince yourself that it’s just the noises of an old house settling.

The final straw was when you were standing on your tiptoes, trying to reach a box from a high shelf. You almost had it when you heard it. A soft whisper in your ear, one that almost sounded like the word “mine.”  And then a cold caress, wrapping around your waist.

You startled so hard that you pulled the box entirely off the shelf, leaving it to fall to the floor and smash the contents into pieces. It scared you down to the bones, despite your efforts to rationalize it, to make logical sense of it.

You are so scared, in fact, that you have invited your pro-hero friend to stay the night. He laughed at your fears, promising there was nothing wrong, and that he would be glad to stay with you.

You always had a bit of a crush on him, but it had never amounted to anything.  He was busy with his pro-hero job, and you lived a bit too far away for the two of you to see much of each other.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. Finally, you think, he’s running late. You hurry to the door and open it to the face of your friend. He smiles and holds out fast food.

“I figured you were hungry,” he says, before walking into the house.

“I owe you,” you reply, “this house is creepier than I remember.”

“There's nothing wrong, you’re just a scaredy cat with a weak quirk. That’s why I’m here.”

You roll your eyes at his arrogance about his quirk, as you lead him to the room you’ve been using as the living area.

A few hours later, and you find yourself feeling just a bit better about everything.  Nothing has happened since your friend arrived, and even the atmosphere has gotten less heavy.  You’re both curled up on the couch, stuffed full of food and talking about mindless topics. You’re starting to feel just a bit silly about the whole thing, and you tell him so.

“I told you so,” he chuckles, “anyone would go a bit stir crazy in this house.  Plus, you’re still grieving.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”  You’re surprised when he scoots closer to you and puts an arm around you, and even more surprised when he grabs your chin to pull you in for a kiss.  

You stiffen up for a single second, before melting into the kiss, scooting even closer to him as he wraps his arm around you.

He pulls you into his lap so that he can settle you in between his legs, deepening the kiss as you wrap your arms around him to tangle your hands into his hair.

He grabs your hips, pushing you down onto the hardness you can feel in his pants. The friction of it has you gasping and grinding down harder, trying to get friction on your clit.

He reaches down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it off of you before kissing a line down the column of your neck and occasionally sucking at the skin.  

You are just starting to get into when it abruptly stops. You glance down at him only to see his eyes blown wide open, staring at something behind you. You turn around to look and see an antique mirror.

You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he lets out a scream and shoves you off his lap. You land on the floor in a dazed heap. “Oh god, the mirror, look at the mirror!,” his voice comes out in a purely panicked tone.

You glance back and still see only a mirror. “It’s just a mirror, I don’t see anything.”

“...you don’t see him?”

“See who? You’re not making any sense!”

“There’s a man,”  he whispers in a low tone, like he thought the man would hear him, “and he looks so pissed.”

“You just saw a shadow of something,” you try to soothe him, “there’s nothing there.”

“HE’S THERE.” You jump as his voice suddenly gets louder. “Oh fuck, he’s…!”  His voice rises into a scream before cutting off. He turns around and starts to run.

You jump up from the floor to follow him and try to calm him back down, but you discover he’s gone already as you see the front door wide open. “So much for the big, tough hero,” you mutter to yourself.

You walk back to the living room to take one last look at the mirror. You still see nothing, and yet a shiver runs down your back as you feel like someone is staring at you. And that someone is darkly amused.

~~~~

You wake up slowly, rolling over onto your other side with full intention of falling back to sleep. But you realize something feels weird. Everything feels hazy, like this is no longer your world.  You open your eyes and look around, only to be shocked by what you see.

Your bedroom is entirely different.  It simultaneously looks newer than the room you went to sleep in, but also significantly more old fashioned.  Like you were shot back into the past of the house.

The room feels heavy and oppressive, and you feel the telltale weight of someone watching you that you’ve felt ever since you came back to the house.  This time though, the energy feels eager, gleefully malicious.  Like it’s won something.

You startle a bit when you notice another significant difference to the room.  There is no door.  No windows.  The places where they’re supposed to be are nothing but blank walls.  No way out of this room.

It’s with that discovery that the realization finally hits you.  A dream, you think, I’m simply dreaming.  A vivid dream, you reason with yourself, but still ultimately a dream.  You relax a bit with this knowledge, until a shimmer appears beside you.  

You spin your head around in time to see a man materialize out of nowhere, right beside the bed.  He is on the tall side, with light blue hair that almost appears silver and eyes that are a striking red.  He’s wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, with red shoes.  He has his hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, although for some reason his pinkies are sticking out of the side of the pocket. He looks strangely indistinct, blurry around the edges, almost as if he’s see-through and not truly part of this world.

You glance up into his red eyes and are frightened by what you see in their depths.  There’s a darkness there, a terrible obsession you can barely even comprehend. Just a dream, you remind yourself, whoever this is can’t do anything.

“Just a dream, huh?”  His face breaks out into a smirk.  Your heart drops into your stomach as you realize he read your mind.  Of course he can read your mind, you reprimand yourself, this is your own dream in your own head.

“Does this feel like a dream?”  He reaches towards you, ice cold fingers trailing up your arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake.  It feels incredibly real, and you shiver a bit at the contact.  You wonder why you’re dreaming about someone you have never met.  And why it feels like you know this man anyway, on a deep level beyond anything you have ever felt.

“Because you do know me.”  His fingers slide even further up your arm, reaching your face.  He grabs your chin and leans in.  

You try to pull away from his hand, to shake your head no, but he simply tightens his grip. “You’re wrong, I don’t know you,” you hiss out, “so I don’t even know why I’m dreaming about you.”

“My name is Tomura Shigaraki.” The name strikes a cord within you, as if you knew it already, as if you’ve waited your whole life simply to hear it again. “And I have waited for you for a long time.”

He leans in to capture your lips with his own, surprising you with how cold his mouth is as he forces his tongue into your mouth before you can protest.  It’s a sloppy, possessive kiss, more about claiming than any sense of romance.  He pulls away from the kiss. 

“You’re here because you belong to me,” he whispers, only to begin kissing down your jawline, planting open mouth kisses down your neck.  “And you have been from the second I saw you.”

He licks and bites at your collarbones, before finally getting to the point where your nightshirt covers your skin.  He grabs the front with his hand, and you watch in horror as it begins to turn to ash, flecks of it flying away.  You notice he used all five of his fingers, and suddenly realize why he had been keeping his pinkies up.

He goes further down, kissing and licking down your chest, before getting to your breasts.  He kneads one in his hand, pinching the nipple between his fingers, before taking the other nipple into his mouth and sucking.  He switches off, taking the other nipple into his mouth also, sucking and twisting them until they’re both hard.  

He reaches for your pajama pants, grabbing and decaying them like he did your top.  You wear no bra or panties for bed, so you’re left bare and exposed to him.  He chuckles darkly as his fingers run lower, swiping down your folds.  “You’re so wet for me, pet,” he purrs into your ear, “it seems you missed me just as much as I missed you.”  You feel like you should be embarrassed, but it seems silly to be embarrassed in your own dream.

He laughs before leaning back just enough to pull his hoodie over his head, tossing it aside.  His pants and shoes follow quickly, and you can’t help but glance down.  He is impressively thick, and already painfully hard, a bead of pre-cum already at the tip.

If this is a dream, you reason with yourself, then there’s really nothing wrong enjoying this, now is there?  A smirk graces Shigaraki’s face.  “You’re right, pet,” he coos, “it’s just a dream, so enjoy the pleasure.”

He grabs your thighs tightly, this time with his middle fingers raised, squeezing down so hard that you know there would be bruises if this wasn’t a dream.  He spreads them apart roughly, before glancing down to look at your now exposed pussy.  Now you do feel embarrassment, squirming a bit to try and close your legs, but he only digs his fingers even harder into the skin of your thighs.

“Don’t try to hide from me,” he growls in warning, before diving into your pussy with his tongue.  He licks all the way up your folds, taking a hand and spreading them apart.  He pushes his tongue up into your passage, tongue fucking you as his nose nudges against your clit and causing you to squirm.  

“Please,” you whine, as you push into him harder, seeking more stimulation, which he’s quick to give to you.  

He wastes no time collecting your slick with two of his fingers, pushing them into you roughly.  The cold of his fingers inside of you causes you to gasp. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking as his tongue presses down hard on it.  You let out a mewl, feeling your end approaching fast.  It’s like everything feels so much sharper in this dream, as if you feel even more than usual.  

He curves his fingers up, brushing against that spongy spot inside of you, and that’s enough to push you over the edge. You gasp as you clench down hard around his fingers, and Shigaraki doesn’t stop his relentless movements.  He continues to suck your clit through your orgasm, tasting your release on his tongue as his fingers drill into your now soaking pussy.  He coaxes you into a second directly after your first, causing you to squeal and go limp as your head falls back onto your pillow.

“Such a good girl for me.” He sits up with a dark smile on his face.  “But since we’re so familiar with each other now, why don’t you call me Tomura?”  You lift your head up and glance at him, but he’s simply giving you a neutral look while waiting for your response.  You see no harm in it, so you shrug.  “I guess I can do that.”

His eyes flash as he hears you agree, and a smile crosses his face.  “Good, because I want that name to be the one you scream once I’m inside of you.”  You shiver at his words, excitement rising up in you.  Sad that it’s been so long since you’ve gotten laid that you’re excited for dream sex, you muse to yourself.  You hear a snicker from beside you and choose to ignore it.

You feel the bed sink down a little, as Tomura climbs into bed with you.  He puts one hand on each side of your head, straddling you on the bed.  You are surprised to see that he looks more solid, less as if you can see all the way through him.  

He leans down to claim your mouth again, this kiss no less passionate than the last one.  He kisses you as if he means to dominate your mouth with his own, hand coming up to tighten slightly on your throat.

He nudges your legs a bit further apart with his thigh before settling himself fully in between them.  He reaches between your bodies to pump his painfully hard cock in his fist, rubbing it up your soaking folds to nudge against your tender clit.  “Tell me you want it, pet,” he whispers in your ear.  

You let out a loud whine, trying to grind yourself down on his cock.  He responds by grabbing your waist tightly, holding you firmly in place.  “I can stay here forever until you beg,” a dark look crosses his face, “what about you?”

You whimper and push against his hold, still trying to impale yourself on him to get some relief for your aching pussy.  “You’re so needy.”  He leans down to nip at your neck, causing you to lift up your chin to give him better access. “I can help you with that.”  He begins to suck on your skin, hard enough that it would leave hickies in any other circumstance.

He reaches down to your soaked folds, collecting your juices and using them to rub tight circles across your clit.  You let out a moan of pleasure at finally getting his fingers where you want them.  You let out a long, plaintive whine when he stops suddenly. “Please,” you finally open your mouth to say.

“Please, what,” he smirks, “I don’t know what you want unless you tell me.”

“Please touch me again,” you try to rub yourself against his fingers to get more stimulation. He completely pulls away, only to start trailing his fingers down your thigh.  “Is this where you want to be touched?”

“No,” you plead, “please touch my pussy.  I need you to fuck me.”

His hand continues to trail down your thighs, further away from your heated core.  “Hmm, do you think that’s good enough, pet?”  

You wrack your brain for what answer he is looking for, before finally settling on “please Tomura, I want you.”  For a second, his gaze turns satisfied, calculating, and his shape seems to get even more solid than it was earlier.  

You start to wonder why, before he begins to push his length into you, as cold as the rest of him. Then all thoughts are lost by the startling feeling of the cold against your warm walls, the contrast feeling amazing inside of you.  You let out a loud mewl at his thickness stretching your pussy out, as he sinks inch by inch inside you.  

He lets out a groan of pleasure as he fully sheathes himself inside you, giving a slight pause to kiss down your neck and allow you to adjust to his size.  He begins at a slow pace, until he feels you wrap your legs around his back, trying to get him to move faster inside of you.  “I need more, Tomura, please,” you beg. 

“Who am I to deny you when you beg so cutely,” he chuckles as his pace increases, hips slamming against yours.  He leans down to nibble and bite at your nipples as he tweaks the other one between his fingers, alternating between them.  

He reaches one hand between your body to start rubbing your clit, causing you to clench hard around his length.  “Fuck, you’re tight,” he curses under his breath as he continues to move inside you.

He lifts your hips up a bit to change angle as he continues to slam into you, seeking that spot that he knows will make you come undone around his cock.  The sound of skin slapping against skin and your gasps and moans fill the room.  

He reaches down to grip your neck without even slowing his pace inside you, still in that same hold he’s been using, with his middle finger raised from your neck. “Admit that you’re mine,” he growls darkly. Your eyes widen at the possessiveness in his tone, a sliver of unease running down your back.  You shake your head no, only for him to slam into you all the way to the cervix, pleasure and pain warring inside you.

You begin to feel the room get colder, dropping degree after degree and causing you to shiver from the cold. His grin turns menacing as he puts more pressure on your neck, making it hard to breathe but not enough to cut your air off completely.  “Say it,” he hisses, “tell me you’re mine.” One hand of yours flies up to his, intending to try and pry him off.  The room starts to spin from lack of oxygen, and you beat your fist against his chest.  

He loosens his grip just enough for you to take a huge gasping breath of air.  When you say nothing, he moves to put his hands back around your neck.  “Wait” you shout.  He pauses, his expression turning predatory as he waits for your next words.  

Even if this is simply a dream, you can feel the sense of danger from admitting this.  You don’t know where this certainty comes from, but you can feel it down to your bones.  But you also feel the danger of not admitting it.  The two desires war within you, fighting to be the victor.

“I’m yours, Tomura,” you breathed out.  His red eyes flash with delight, with a sense of dark triumph that makes you instantly regret your decision to say the words.  

“Finally,” he snarled as his hips begin to snap into you again. He is even harder and rougher than before, his hands gripping you tightly as he fucks you with wild abandon.  Two fingers reach down to press hard on your clit and you feel another orgasm approaching quickly.

“I want you to say my name as you cum around my cock,” he growls as he changes his angle slightly, the new position causing you to let out a wail as you tighten hard on his cock and dig your heels into his back.  

“Fuck, Tomura” you cry out, as liquid fire courses through you.  His hips stutter at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around his cock, and he reaches his own end, cold seed flooding into your womb.  

You both lay there for a second, trying to catch your breath, when you hear the distant sound of an alarm blaring.  He lets out a dangerous growl, clutching you to his chest as if he could prevent the alarm from taking you away from him.  “You won’t be getting away from me much longer,” is the last thing you hear before you wake up.

~~~~

You sit bolt upright in bed gasping, still throbbing from the remnants of an orgasm. Your eyes dart around the room, looking for Tomura, only to find nothing.  The room is empty, looking the same as it did before you went to sleep.  The doors and windows are back, and the suffocating presence you felt before has lessened.  

God, that was one intense dream.  You had never had such a lucid dream before, one that felt so completely real that it was hard to come to terms with it now that you are awake.  You roll over to turn your blaring alarm off and wince in pain. You feel strangely sore, as if you slept wrong in the night.  Feeling sweaty and gross, you let out a deep sigh and get up to take a shower.  

After your shower, you go back into your bedroom to get dressed.  You glance at the floor length mirror as you walk past, before doing a double take and turning back around to look again.  You startle a bit when you see that your neck is covered in bruises and hickies.  You think back to your friend during your makeout session the other night, and mentally curse him for getting too rough.  

But as you glance down, you also see handprints on the side of both of your hips.  You stare at them for a long time, trying to place what happened.  The asshole grabbed me pretty hard when he threw me off him the other night, you reason.  He obviously must have been too rough, and you resolve to admonish him later on the whole incident.  You give a silent nod to yourself, confident in your reasoning.

If only you could forget that the handprint bruises have a single finger not visible on your skin.

~~~~

That day passes uneventfully, although you can’t stop thinking of the dream you had.  Or the bruises on your neck.  Or the handprints with only 4 fingers.  You know you’re being ridiculous, that you have a logical explanation for the whole thing.  But that doesn’t stop the anxiety, the worry, from building up in you.

You are also unable to reach your friend in order to give him the chewing out that he is desperately owed.  You can’t figure out if he’s ignoring you, or just busy, but you’re getting absolutely no response.  

You resolve to work on the house more, to distract yourself. You are still going from room to room, organizing things, separating things into keep piles, donation piles, and trash piles. You have finally worked your way into your grandma’s office and library, a place you were never able to go into before.

You stare in wonder the first time you go through those doors, unable to figure out where to look first.  The room is huge, and filled with floor to ceiling books. An ornate, antique looking desk sits in the back of the room, and the windows to the left side of the desk let in the sunlight so that the room doesn’t feel overly dark.

I really wish she had let me come in here before, you think, because this room is absolutely amazing.  And then reality hits you, as you let out a groan. It’s also going to take me forever to look through all this.

You venture around the library and see a varied mix of books.  There is everything from classic literature and non-fiction textbooks to romance and murder mysteries.  But then you come to a strange section, closest to her desk. It’s full of books about witchcraft and spells, ghosts and demons, books with titles you can’t even begin to understand and that only hurt your head to try.  It’s confusing to you why your grandma would even have some of these books, but you suppose she has a little of everything in this library.  

You head to the desk, sitting down in the chair before opening up the drawers. Sitting in the top of the first drawer you open are two things. One is a plain spiral bound notebook. The other is a book about ghosts.  Specifically, about how to banish them.  The book has clearly been well used, the spine well broken in and several bookmarks still inside.

You pause for a second before opening the notebook to the first page. In it, you find a detailed recounting of the malevolent spirit living within the house. Your own grandma’s account. You can barely comprehend everything, so many details and actions taken.

And then you come across the entry around the time of your visit years ago. You read about your grandma’s fear of you being there. The increasing obsession the ghost, Tomura Shigaraki, had of you. And her final decision to send you back, away from the ghost.

This information answers some questions and raises so many more. Your grandma was a witch. Ghosts and spirits exist. And one is obsessed with you. So obsessed, in fact, that your grandma feared for you to the point that she barely had anything to do with you after that.  You wonder if she felt that staying away from you was for your own protection.

You pick the book up about banishment, hoping to find more answers, and open it to one of the bookmarks.  Inside is a detailed banishment and saging ritual, used to weaken ghosts.  Turning a few pages back, you look to see if it mentions what signs you should be watching for, any hints that you have a ghost obsessed with you. You don’t doubt what you read from your grandma, but a part of you is still in denial, hoping that this is all an elaborate story.

You finally find the correct page and do some reading.  Unexplained sounds and feelings, check. Seeing things that aren’t there, check.  Your heart stops for a second at the next section.  Strange and intense dreams, including ones of a sexual nature.  Definite check.  Unexplained marks and bruises on your body.

You stop reading at that point, thinking back to the dream.  The bruises. Those handprints.  The raised fingers.  You feel a chill run down your spine, the room getting noticeably colder.  No matter how much you try to rationalize it, something feels off about the whole thing.  You turn the page back to the description of the saging, and it looks easy enough for you to handle.  And really, what can it hurt?

~~~~

You glance around at the circle of objects you had laid out around you.  You feel like you should be feeling very silly right now.  But you just don’t.  There is this sense of impending doom you have in your bones, and yet not enough to blatantly run from the house.  You have obligations here, a responsibility to your grandma.  Even if this is you being silly, it will hopefully give you peace of mind.

You had found plenty of sage and salt in one of your grandmother’s cupboards. You had opened up the majority of the windows that could actually be opened so that energy could leave, and also to air the house out from the sage. You had laid out and started lighting some white candles throughout the house.  And you had a bowl to catch the ash from the burning sage stick, and another bowl filled with salt.

You read in the book that you needed to light the sage and walk from room to room with it, spreading the smoke around and paying special attention to outer walls of the house where negative energy could come in.  The book also said that spreading a line of salt around entryways and windows also helped to keep things out.  

You decide to start in your bedroom, since that’s where the most extreme of the incidents happened.  You have candles lit and salt laid in there already, so all you need is to light the sage and say the words.

As you go to grab the lighter, the lights of the house start to flicker, and the atmosphere in the air grows heavy and intense.  You feel like someone is staring right into you, all the way down to your soul, and that they are not pleased.  The entire house seems to take on a life of its own, as if furious with what you’re about to do.

Before you have a chance to panic, you light the sage.  You move all the way around the room, holding the sage up to the corners of the room, and you feel the pressure lessen just a bit. "I cast the circle thrice about to keep the evil spirits out,” you begin to say, in as powerful of a voice as you can muster.  

You leave the bedroom, going room to room in the upstairs part of the house, making sure no part is untouched.  “Earth, Wind, Fire and Sea.”  The furious stare is lessening and the house itself seems to be settling.

Finally, you make your way downstairs to the front entrance, the last place of the house that you haven’t gone through.  You spread the smoke of the sage around this area as well, before finally saying the words to close things out.  “As I will so, mote it be!"  You put the sage out.

It feels like everything stops all at once. You hear an anguished scream coming from the living room, and you quickly rush that way. In the mirror your friend saw him in before, you now see him too.

He’s wearing the same outfit he was in your dream, but there is no sense of the smug, triumphant man you felt. Instead, he looks furious. Clawing at the inside of the mirror like he is in pain. And then he suddenly starts to fade, getting more and more see through until he finally vanishes entirely.  

And then suddenly, the house feels like a house again. No presence, no pressure, no eyes feeling like they’re watching you.  You breathe a sigh of relief as you realize that it worked.  The house has never felt so light, so clear the entire time you’ve been here.

It seems to have taken a lot out of you however, leaving you feeling exhausted and hungry. You quickly make something to eat before heading to bed.

Good, you think to yourself as you walk up the stairs to your bedroom. Whatever this was is over now and I can finally finish things here in peace.  He’s gone.

~~~~

You wake up slowly, feeling strangely weak and groggy.  Something feels wrong, and you try to pinpoint what it is. You recall doing the saging ritual, feeling like it worked, before fixing yourself some quick dinner and heading to bed.  Everything seemed fine when you went to sleep.

You try to get up, to look around, but you find that you can’t move at all.  Panic hits as you try desperately to move something, anything.  But you are completely paralyzed.  Your head throbs and the room seems to spin the harder you try to move.

You attempt to slow your breathing, to concentrate and think through your situation, and then you notice it.  You went to sleep curled up on your side, as usual, but you’re not laying like that anymore.  You’re on all fours on the bed, head pressed down against the mattress, back arching upwards.  

You feel movement from behind you, and you find that you are able to lift your head just enough to glance back.  Instinctively, you know what you’re going to see.  Who you’re going to see.

Dawning horror rises in you as your fears are confirmed, that the movement behind you is coming from the man of your dream, Tomura Shigaraki, and that he is buried to the hilt inside you.  You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat as you feel yourself clenching around the hard cock that is stretching you out.

“Ah, finally awake?  Took you long enough, he chuckles maliciously.  “The man of your dream, huh?” He pulls all the way out of you, only to slam roughly back in, wrenching a scream from you.  “Sounds so romantic.”  

He leans in to whisper a question into your ear.  “Want to know a secret?”  You want so badly to tell him no, to wake up from this nightmare, but you know there is no option.

“It was never a dream, my little plaything.”  His tone is so full of sinister glee that you find yourself shivering.

You feel overwhelmed that this has already happened once before, that you were too stupid to realize it was never simply a dream.  

He grabs your hips roughly and begins to set a slow pace inside you.  “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it,” he hisses out, “like you didn’t beg me to fuck you.”

Shame burns your face, and you bury your face into the pillow to try and hide your sobs.  But Shigaraki simply coils his fingers inside your hair and jerks backwards.  The action forces your back to arch, his cock burying even deeper inside you.

Despite yourself, you feel heat pooling in your core from his rough handling and the feeling of his thick cock sliding against your inner walls.  

You let out a broken moan as he speeds up, his hips snapping into your backside, balls smacking against your clit and filling the room with the wet noises of skin slapping against skin.  A coil inside you is building, and you want more than anything to squirm away.  But there is no give in whatever power he has you under, and you’re forced to simply take the pleasure.  

He runs a cold hand up and down your back, digging nails into the skin as the other hand trails around to where your bodies are joined.  He begins to furiously rub your clit, tight and fast circles that leave you gasping and gripping at the bed sheets under your hands.  

You feel your juices dripping from you, drenching his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your quivering cunt.  Being unable to move is only heightening all of your other senses, and you can feel every vein on the cock inside you.

You feel yourself rapidly tightening up, your orgasm quickly approaching. You let out a loud whine as you find yourself pushing back against him, seeking more friction in spite of yourself.  

“You’re about to cum, aren’t you?” He barks out a laugh. “Do it then, cum all over my cock.”

At his words, you instantly cum hard, as if your body is obeying his command. He fucks you through your orgasm before pulling out and flipping you over.

He pulls you into his lap before entering you again as your pussy is still fluttering around his cock. This new position lets him thrust up into you, the new angle causing him to slam into a spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

His pace doesn’t even slow as he begins to kiss at your neck, nipping and sucking hard as he leaves bruises down the column of your neck. His fingers begin to stroke your aching clit yet again, and you let out a shameless moan.

“Please stop,” you whimper, “too sensitive.”  You feel wrung out, the room seeming to spin just a bit, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

He ignores you, gripping your hips to hold you in place as he pounds into you. You glance down at the cock disappearing inside you, and you flush with embarrassment as you see that his length is glistening with your juices.

His pace becomes erratic, thrusts starting to stutter, and you know that he’s getting close too. “Mine, mine, mine,” he chants as he finally finishes inside you with a loud groan. The feeling of cold spreading through your core is enough to push you over yet again, and you collapse against his shoulder in sheer exhaustion.

Tears run down your face as you ask him the question you’ve been wondering. “I thought I banished you.”

His chest rumbles with his laughter. “No, little plaything. Your grandmother was a powerful witch and knew what she was doing.”  You stiffen up at his words.

He leans down to lick at the shell of your ear. “You, however, are weak and know nothing.”

“But then, why did you…” you trail off as it finally hits you. You let out a choked sob. “You were faking it.”

He simply smirked at you. You suddenly can’t breathe. The room is spinning even more, your head feeling like it’s going to split open. You push away from him and are surprised when he lets you.

You back away slowly, grabbing your pajamas from the floor and throwing them on. You keep an eye on him the entire time, but he doesn’t move. He simply looks at you.

You don’t know why he’s simply letting you and you don’t care. You turn around and start running.

Fuck the house, you thought, fuck your stuff, fuck everything.  You have to get out while you still can.  You don’t know what else Shigaraki will do to you if you stay.  And...your poor grandmother.  Now you know why she never moved out of the house. She stayed here for years to protect people, to protect you.

You don’t take time to pack things.  In a blind panic, you run through the hallways of the house, down the stairs, making a beeline to the door.  The headache you were feeling from before intensifies.  As you make it to the final stair, a wave of weakness and dizziness overcomes you.  You barely keep yourself upright as you grip the banister.  You push yourself to the wall, using it to prop yourself up, as you take two more steps.

But the weakness is too much, and your knees buckle.  You fall to the floor hard, the room spinning around you wildly.  Oh god, what’s wrong with me?  You begin to panic, trying to take huge gulps of air, but breathing has become so hard.

You can’t let this stop you from getting out of the house, you have to get out now. You roll yourself over onto your stomach, determined to drag yourself to the door if need be.

And then you see him.  Shigaraki.  He appears more solid than earlier, leaning against a doorframe with the biggest triumphant smirk you have ever seen on his face.

“Not feeling so good, are we?”

You freeze in your quest to drag yourself up as you stare at him.  He begins to walk towards you, slowly, deliberately, Making you feel like prey.  Like you’re being hunted

“What did you do to me?” you whisper in fear.  You know deep down what is happening to you, but you don’t truly want to admit it.  Want to be in denial.  Want him to tell you nothing is wrong.

He lets out a twisted laugh, ignoring your question entirely.  “Do you know how boring it was, with nothing but that pathetic old woman to keep me company for years?  She was just familiar enough with poltergeists to guard against me, but not enough to banish me entirely.”

You had no idea your grandmother knew anything at all about spirits until you found all those books in her library, read her notes.  You certainly hadn’t.

“But then you showed up at her doorstep, needing a place to stay. You intrigued me from the start.  A naive little thing who had no idea what she was stepping into. And your grandmother knew that. She knew I was becoming obsessed. That I wanted to corrupt you.”

Corrupt you, you think dimly, thinking of the event just earlier. The one that started your mad dash to get out of the house.  Waking up and being unable to move. Held down by his power and forced to feel pleasure you didn’t want as he took you. You shiver at the thought, revulsion and lust warring with each other.

“That’s why she sent you away from me. And that’s why I killed her.”

It feels like your heart stops beating for a second. Tears start flowing from your eyes and running down your face.  “...You killed her?  She died because of me?” 

Your muscles cramp harshly, causing you to let out a sharp gasp of pain.  You try to scoot back from the malignant ghost that is approaching you, the murderous ghost that took the last of your family from you. But you’re too tired and too dizzy to manage it.  You lay your head back against the floor.

“Yeah, I killed her,”  he lets out a harsh laugh. “And yeah, that’s why she died. I warned her of the consequences of what would happen if she didn’t bring you back.  She didn’t listen.”

A haze is descending over your eyes. Everything is becoming distant, except for Shigaraki’s form, his voice, his words.

“And then, after what I did to get you back here, you were going to try and get rid of me,” he growls in a low, dangerous tone.  “You don’t seem to understand that you belong to me.”

He approaches where you lay, immobilized, unable to do anything but watch as he slowly sits down on the floor beside you.  He reaches over, grabbing your body and situating it into his lap in a princess carry.  

Your muscles convulse, your head spins, and you find yourself whimpering from the pain.  He grins as he runs his fingers through your hair, making his way down your jawline to cup your face.  

“You’re dying, little pet.  And quickly, at that.  The things you can find in old houses is truly amazing.  Like the arsenic I found in a forgotten corner of the basement.”

Your veins turn to ice, the haze clouding your mind lifting just a bit.  The terror pushes all other emotions out, as if you’re a being of pure fear and panic, as if you’ve never known anything else.  

Your eyes widen and you try to shake your head, before the dizziness forces you to stop.  “No no no, please no.  Please tell me you’re joking, trying to scare me.”

He huffs out a soft laugh. “Would I joke about this?  It’s true. I sensed you might do something stupid and I was right. I slipped the poison into your food after you tried to weaken me.”

You try to push away, to get out of his arms, but you’re too weak. He simply puts a bit more pressure into his hold to keep you in place. The mere effort is enough to leave you panting for breath.

“What do you mean to accomplish?  If I’m dead…”. Your stomach cramps again, harder this time, and your sentence cuts out in a pained gasp.

He gives a truly wicked laugh, and his lips curl up in a smirk. “If you’re dead, you’re trapped here. Just like I am.”

More tears roll down your face. “I don’t wanna die,” you whimper, “and I don’t want to be stuck here with you.”  It’s hard to keep your eyes open any more. They begin to slowly close as the room darkens.

He shifts you further into his lap, stroking his hands through your hair and kissing the tears running down your face. The gentle gesture is so at odds with the fact that he’s the one killing you.

“You have no choice in the matter,” he chuckles, “it’s happening whether you want it or not. It was only a matter of time anyway, you just sped up my timeline.”

Your muscles begin to seize up, and seeking some sort of comfort from the pain, you turn your head into the chest of your murderer. “I hate you,” you whimper, before grasping his hoodie, burying your face into it to muffle your crying.

His arms wrap around you more solidly, hand coming around the back of your head to cradle it.  “That’s okay, pet. I have all the time in the world to make you love me.”  The last thing you hear before your eyes close for the final time is Shigaraki whispering in your ear “after all, we’ll be together forever.”

~~~~ 

Tag: @monst, @secondhand-trash, @animewh0re, @thewheezingwyvern, @legend-of-frost, @mothwithteeth​, @mhafanfics19​, @kazooli​, @lildreamer93​, @yaoyorozuwrites​, @dee-madwriter​

[anjanettexcordonia]

Secrets

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir A/U

Rating/Triggers: Mature (18+); domestic violence

Pairings: Drake x MC, Liam x MC (kinda) 

Word count: 1254 (+/-)

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors. 

A/N: I have been on a hiatus due to personal circumstances (Dumpster Fire 2021 comin at ya) but this is hopefully my comeback! Thanks for sticking with me! 

Disclaimer: Some characters & some scenes belong to Pixelberry. I have been working on this on and off since November 2020. Hope ya enjoy. 

Tags: If you would like to be added or removed please let me know. 

HUGE SHOUT OUT TO @txemrn (without her I would have never finished) & @jessiembruno for pre-reading (even if you don’t remember) 

Chapter 1

Liam sat alone at a small circular table with high backed cushioned stools in a pizzeria in New York City. He couldn’t ever visit New York without having an authentic slice of New York style pizza. He sat staring out the large picture window at the snow falling steadily. A large greasy slice of in front of him. He was consumed in his own feelings of loneliness and isolation when the silhouette of a figure caught his attention standing on the sidewalk. He squinted his eyes to try to get a better view through the falling snow. Liam watched as a petite raven haired woman with a white pea coat wrapped tightly around her attempted to hail a cab in front of the shop. A cab flew by her and spewed snow at her causing her to slip on the icy sidewalk beneath her. Liam jumped from his table and ran out the front door of the restaurant to help her. 

“Miss, are you okay?” Liam asked as he held out his hand to the beautiful dark haired woman. 

“Oh... uh... I’m fine. Thank you, uh, thank you for your help sir.” 

The woman replied brushing her long blue black tendrils from her face. She attempted to pull herself from the ground unsuccessfully without taking his hand. Liam hoisted her up by her elbow anyway. 

“I’m Liam.” His bright blue eyes shown through the moonlight drawing Alexa into them.

Alexa took a step back avoiding eye contact. “Liam, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Liam nodded his head with a warm smile. A megawatt smile that would make any girl's heart skip a beat. Alexa’s breath hitched at the crooked smile he gave her. 

“Goodbye then.” Alexa turned and walked away in the opposite direction. 

Liam was intrigued by the woman. He felt a strange tingle down his spine when his eyes met hers. Those eyes. He had never seen anything like them. One eye a golden honey, the other ice blue with flecks of grey. He hoped to see her again; but, in this bustling city with the population of almost half of his small Mediterranean country, what were the chances of that? 

 Liam stood in silence, staring up at the Statue of Liberty. She was a beacon of freedom he could never fully grasp. At home, he was Heir Apparent to the throne of an absolute monarchy; his citizens kissed his feet in belief his bloodline was touched by God, like most kings of the past.  Unlike in his country, the United States of America, where every citizen was free to choose. Free to elect their leaders. Free to not feel the pressures of leading a country from birth. He hoped to be a good king one day. He hoped to establish a balance of power within his country without undermining its traditions. He hoped to lead his country to a constitutional monarchy, not absolute. He envied this country that was built on freedom. Who would he have been born here? Who would he be without the crown? He thought back to his childhood friend, the only American he really knew. He had met American diplomats, sure, but never knew much about them. Those mismatched eyes flash in his mind. The shiny dark curls that framed those beautiful eyes hidden deep in his mind. 

“Sir?” 

A voice startled Liam breaking his thoughts and snapping him back to reality. 

“Bastien?” 

Liam’s head of security had slinked from the shadows. 

“We found him, sir. I’ve contacted his secretary. Dinner is scheduled for tomorrow night.” The guard spoke in a stern yet soft voice. 

“Thank you, Bastien.” Liam’s thoughts returned to his former friend. 

Drake Walker was his best friend. They grew up together until Drake went off to college in America. Drake's mother was an American and his father was Cordonian. His father was a top military general in the King’s Guard. Jackson Walker, Drake’s father, was killed in the line of duty and his mother and sister went back to America after his tragic loss. They had promised to stay in touch after Drake left. Time ticked by and communication had dwindled. It had been five years since they had last spoken. Last Liam knew, Drake was still in New York. He had become a big shot real estate developer living on the Upper East Side. Bastien had tried to contact Drake after an assassination attempt on Liam’s life, but Drake never returned the call. 

Across town, Alexa was feeling anxious after her encounter with the kind stranger, Liam. If she had been seen conversing with a handsome man or any man for that matter her husband would not be happy, especially as handsome as he was. His smile and bright eyes flashed through her mind. She was rushing to get home before her husband. He wouldn’t be happy if she were late. Punctuality was very important to him, but only when it came to her. 

Alexa made it home just in the nick of time. She let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t home yet. She was hoping he would be late. Alexa winced, peeling her coat from her limbs. She hung her coat on the coat rack. She threw her snow covered boots in the hall closet. She felt a stinging pain in her back when she bent down. She lifted her shirt in the hallway mirror and saw a bright purple bruise from her fall forming. Fuck, he will have questions if he sees this.. 

“Alexa, where are you?” 

She heard the front door open and keys being tossed furiously on the entry table. 

“Hello, dear,” Alexa rounded the hallway to the living room. “Um, how--how was your day?” she stutters. 

“It was fine,” he answered coldly, his gaze glued to his phone. “I received a strange phone call on my way home.” 

“Oh?” Alexa felt her heart begin to race. Surely no one saw me. “From who?”

He scoffs. “An old friend from childhood would like to have dinner tomorrow night. 6pm sharp. Nobu.” He kicks off his shoes as he feverishly texts on his cell. “You will meet me there. Do not dress too provocatively. And try  not to embarrass me this time.” She could sense the aggravation in her husband’s voice. “I’m going to change and go out. Don’t wait up.” 

Alexa stared at her feet as she nodded her head complacently.

The next evening, Alexa stared at herself in the mirror in a black chiffon dress with plunging neckline and strappy Christian Louboutins. Her long dark hair flowed in loose curls down her back. She was already dreading this dinner. She knew her husband would find something she did to humiliate him;she would regret it later. She arrived promptly at the upscale restaurant. Her husband was waiting with the maitre’d for her. He forced a smile. 

“Alexa,” he placed his hand on her lower back. Her skin crawled at the feel of his hand “Do not embarrass me,” he whispered as he guided her to the private table. 

“Drake,” the man at the table said warmly. 

“Rhys, so good to see you,” Drake said in a tone Alexa didn’t recognize. His tone was calm and smooth. 

“And who’s this?” The warm baritone voice of her husband’s childhood friend asked. 

“This is my wife Alexa Walker. Lex, this is Liam.” 

Alexa’s head immediately snapped up at the name. Liam immediately recognized her unique eyes, an instant connection flowed through the room, almost tangible.

Domestic Abuse Hotline: 1.800.799.SAFE

[sunsoothed]

lightness

jang hanseo character study kinda fic i promised. i'm not sure if this is a character study anymore. i have no idea what this became. anyway! i wanted to explore hanseo and give him a bit of a backstory, so here it is!

*deep breath* content warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, physical abuse, blood, injury, canonical character death (not hanseo), recreational drug use, underage drug use, implied drug abuse

word count: 1866

read on ao3

hope you like it!

-

When Jang Hanseo is seven, he is acquainted with elder brother. Regal; nine-years-old and already hunting.

He still hides behind their father with him when he pretends to be terrified of the sound of gunfire.

Hanseo says nothing. He never brings up how his brother had thrown the bloodied rabbit and his rifle to the servant attending him, never brings up how thoroughly he washed his hands to hide the evidence of his independence from his father.

Never brings up how his brother assessed him with just a look and nothing more.

The first words Jang Hanseo’s brother says to him are as follows:

“Don’t call me hyung.”

Jang Hanseo blinks, traces his eyes over the leather of his brother’s jacket, over the blood that drips from his gloves, over the rifle he holds in his hands. He smiles.

“Okay, hyung-nim!”

A scoff, but some appraisal. Jang Hanseo doesn’t understand the half-smile he receives that autumn afternoon, but he remembers it until he beats his brother with a hockey stick, striking his head trice ‘til he’s out and his back once just for good measure, just to see the blood coming up to his mouth for him to choke on.

-

The first time his brother hits him, Jang Hanseo is eight. The ice rink is dark, and his brother is more geared up than he is.

Jang Hanseo misses thrice, scores once. He is rewarded with a swipe of the hockey stick on the back of his calf, and he thinks it is a game.

For that, he is rewarded with his first broken bone and a seared memory of a hand heavy on his throat. A laugh without mercy.

-

When Jang Hanseo is thirteen, he is offered alcohol at a party his father is hosting.

He declined, having seen first-hand what alcohol does to you, what a rage it puts his father in as he breaks porcelain, the scar he left on his mother’s cheek that lasted till the day she died.

-

When Jang Hanseo is fourteen, his brother kills four people. Classmates, he tells him, when he comes home with red speckled on his face. They weren’t worthy of being my classmates.

-

Jang Hanseo celebrates his fifteenth birthday with the diagnosis of his brother being a psychopath and accidentally tearing open the letter of a one-way ticket to the United States.

Instead of cake, he consumes his own blood, and instead of a pat on the back, he has a dislocated shoulder.

When he wakes a day later hooked to an IV, his brother is gone. The phantom of his laugh lives on, searing long into Hanseo’s conscience.

-

At fifteen-and-a-half, his father sends Hanseo to his grandmother’s for the summer. His father is undergoing a trial, on the charges of bribery, abetting murder, and perjury. With one son shipped off to the States and another to Jeju Island, he has no pawns he will feel ill about sacrificing. It’s not that he loves them. It’s that letting your son die because the ransom money you can very well afford would require you to take some shares out, and that’s too tedious of a process to go through.

So Jang Hanseo boards the short flight, stares out of the window for the longest one hour and fifteen minutes of his life so far. He’s never met his grandmother.

He wonders if she’s like his father, knowing she’s raised him, or if she’s worse.

She’s leagues different from anyone in his family.

Halmeoni scans him up and down when the driver drops him off at her estate. At the front door itself, she says, “We have a lot of fixing-up to do.”

It leaves an impression, that’s for sure.

-

The best summer of his life, Hanseo learns how to uproot weeds and catch a chicken without screaming like his life was being threatened. His halmeoni owns a farm, some 150 acres of greenery and animal and mansion.

Halmeoni teaches him first how to eat well, how to fill his plate and not feel bad about it, how to overeat and regret it. Halmeoni teaches him second that he is the most important person to himself; never his father, and not his hyung-nim.

Halmeoni teaches him third that he has no one else in the world but himself.

This, Jang Hanseo remembers the most.

(But his brother’s —)

-

With his brother’s absence, an anxiety sets into Hanseo’s veins so intensely that upon looking up his symptoms, he sees words like psychosis and personality disorder and promptly closes his laptop shut.

Unbidden, but not unwelcome, he remembers the rages his father fell into. He remembers the embers of gold in those small wide glasses that abeoji owned, remembers the crates of bottles that they used to have moved into the house. He also recalls the putrid smoke that used to emerge from the study. The smell of something burnt and something that made him cough so hard it alerted his father of his presence.

It’s in the boys washroom that he smells the scent again. By the open window, out curls smoke.

Jang Hanseo catches the eye of the assailant. Oh Yeonwoo will get him into this mess and then out. He will be Hanseo’s first true friend.

-

Jang Hanseo tries it for the first time on the terrace of the school. One joint between the two of them and nothing but heaving coughs from him until he learns how to take air after smoke and allow its natural passage back up. The joint is over by then, and Hanseo feels nothing.

Yeonwoo bumps their shoulders together, carelessly tossing the filter over the railing of the terrace. “You’ll get the hang of it,” He assures. “I didn’t even make it after a couple of joints, so you’re doing better than me already.”

Hanseo lends him a half-smile. Better than him, he thinks. When have I ever been better than anyone?

“Hanseo-yah, what’re you thinking with that scowl, hm?” Yeonwoo bumps their shoulders together again. “You’re so scary when you space out.”

“I am?”

Yeonwoo nods again. Hanseo notes something hazy in his eyes, something completely unguarded in his demeanour. He blinks cautiously.

“Hanseo-yah,” Yeonwoo whines, “Stop staring at me.”

“I’m not,” He replies. “Are —” Are you okay? Hanseo was going to ask. Stupid. Yeonwoo has settled against his shoulder now, humming some tune. He stretches his legs out in front of him and sways his feet to the rhythm. He seems better than okay.

So this is what it does, Hanseo thinks. Lightness. He wants to be light.

-

And so, Jang Hanseo, age sixteen, falls into something whose magnitude he cannot guess. Addiction is only the half of it. The other half had started the day Yeonwoo showed him something called shotgunning, which had taken his first kiss and his first experience with intoxication whose harm had lasted longer than its euphoria.

When he lies beside Yeonwoo, all too hot and all too cold, unable to distinguish which fingers are his when they hold hands, he finds it. The lightness. When Yeonwoo turns and exhales into his neck, prickling sweat and prickling hair to stand on edge, Hanseo smiles.

And when Hanseo wakes up, the dread in his gut is deeper than it’s ever been.

(— his brother’s —)

-

So it seems that boys with no family and boys with brothers who know nothing but violence and boys with a terrible, terrible blankness to them can also, by some grace of humanity, fall in love. And so it seems, as Hanseo feels the telltale thumping of his heart and lightness in his abdomen, that Yeonwoo will keep having this effect on him.

Subtlety, Yeonwoo tells him, the afternoon they sit on the roof and stare at the sky and at the smoke. Subtlety will let you get away with everything.

Subtle touches, then. Hanseo’s fingers lingering a moment too long on Yeonwoo’s arm, Hanseo’s hand firm between his shoulder blades. Subtle words, and subtle smiles, and subtle smoke between their mouths as they chase lightness.

Subtle kisses, too, when Hanseo feels he can see his own eyes in Yeonwoo’s, when Hanseo still finds the thrill of sealing his lips with Yeonwoo’s to be a minefield of his own feelings. Subtle kisses that Yeonwoo always blackens — drags them down into teeth and tongue and desire. Hanseo doesn’t know, then, that this is what differentiates them. What puts him on a curved, unshapely parabola and Yeonwoo on a straight line.

Feral, Hanseo once thinks, his gaze only slightly unclouded, as Yeonwoo bites at his lips, his neck. Feral, in the way he never kisses to coax Hanseo’s mouth open; never to cherish feeling. Only to chase after something so much deeper.

-

At seventeen, Jang Hanseo implodes from heartbreak.

Transfer student. Short, ebony hair, in that oh-so-timeless straight bob. He has a nice smile, even Hanseo can tell, and he has a charming walk. He’s also assigned a seat beside him. This, of all things, was the catalyst.

Yeonwoo didn’t want to kiss him anymore. Yeonwoo wanted to smoke with him, but Yeonwoo also bought a new companion along with him. Yeonwoo, it seemed, never wanted what Hanseo did. Yeonwoo, it seemed, never felt the way Hanseo did.

Hanseo knows that he knew, somewhere, beneath what his world had become, that this would not stand for long. Its foundations were, in the end, smoke.

-

But it does not surprise him, Hanseo thinks, seventeen and a quarter, something vile in his veins. It does not surprise him that he’s here.

His head hits, dully, the floor under him. He laughs. And he laughs some more, as the world turns from dust to sky to ocean. And he waits for the servants to find him in his father’s study.

-

They tell him that he’s lucky, later, in the hospital. Jang Hanseo thinks this is what death feels like, on the verge of eighteen. He states blinking at the ceiling. Hospital rooms are white on all six sides, and heaven is supposed to be white on all six sides as well. He wants to laugh, so he does.

And it hurts.

Hanseo stops laughing.

(— his brother’s laugh —)

-

Hanseo laughs. Ten years past, ten years perished, Hanseo laughs until his heart hurts. His brother’s heart is still beating. His blood is still warm, the three hits to his head and one to his back hadn’t kept him down. Hanseo laughs as the blood splatters on his face, sprinkled red on his chin and lips, a sprinkled red dancing in his eyes as he brings the hockey stick down, down, down.

For everything Hanseok has made him — less, more, just enough. For all these little things that had changed Hanseo more than broken bones could. For lost love. For things that weren’t, in the end, Hanseok’s fault.

Hanseo beats him till his heart stops fighting back and the blood pooled in his mouth flows quietly. Till Hanseo feels no fight left in him, and then some, till the exhaustion in him takes over.

Hanseo slumps over his brother’s dead body, and Hanseo laughs.

(But his brother’s laugh will always be louder.)

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted to You

Part II: All Along the Watch Tower

Summary/Reader’s Notes: In this part the boys head to Columbia to do some reconnaissance. They all find out why they are really there and as expected...Frankie does not handle it well. There will obviously be more ‘reader’ centric parts as time goes on. I thrive for your thoughts and comments. **Shout out to @rae-gar-targaryen​ for being an amazing person and helping me with translations. The italics are either Spanish, with the translations in ( ) or they are the boys talking over the coms as a reminder that they are spread out and not near one another--let me know if that reads okay or if there is a better way to do the Spanish/English in the paragraphs.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Pope’s sister!Reader Word Count: 5k (this is a theme...) Warnings/rating: R/18+ Language, derogatory language, STRONG kidnapping elements, blood, violence, execution/death, general Frankie DISTRESS. Angst, Bro Hugs, Man tears, TOM. (I am in pain after this. Please give me your feelings)

Part I 

MASTERLIST

Seventeen thousand dollars for one week of reconnaissance wasn't anything to shake a stick at. And Frankie was almost ashamed to say when Pope told them that was the initial pay out, they all jumped on it without knowing many details. Times were tough. Tom was going through a divorce, paying two mortgages, and scraping by as a piss-poor real estate agent. And in the words of Pope, the real crime was that he had been shot for his country five times and couldn't afford to send his daughters to college. Will was still giving pep talks, to kids barely old enough to drink, through the recruiting agency and traveled so much settling down and having a family wasn't an option. Benny was street brawling in a cage every Friday night for what he could make playing penny slots up at the casino. And Frankie--well, Frankie drifted from one job to the next, never having a job long enough to get basic health insurance and pay for anything that would help the nightmares he had every night. So, maybe it wasn't all that sad when the four of them jumped at the idea of making five figures for a week of work. 

They had each packed a bag and flown over the borde into Columbia where they spent the first day letting Pope show them around and talk about the terror that narcos like Lorea was unleashing on the country. He laid it on pretty thick when honestly, he didn't need to. They were already there. No backing out now. 

Somewhere on the outskirts of the city Pope had a storage unit that was basically full of everything they would ever need for recon work. They loaded up on assault rifles and ammunition, radio communication tools, med kits, binoculars and scopes, hell, he even had fucking night vision goggles for each of them. Pope tossed Frankie a bulletproof vest and he strapped it on, still looking at the impressive wall to wall unit of tactical gear. He knew he had been after Lorea for three years, but this was excessive, especially if it had all been paid for by the Columbian government. 

As far as the four of them knew, this mission was off the grid. Pope had cut a deal with local authorities and had intel that Lorea had about seventy-five million dollars of drug money holed up in the middle of the fucking jungle. If they decided to take the job after the recon, well, they got to keep twenty five percent of it. Frankie couldn't even begin to think what he would do with that kind of money. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something Pope wasn't telling them. He spent the majority of the first leg of the trip waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. 

“Holy shit,” Will whistled as Pope showed them the storage unit. “Where did you get all of this, man?”

“I told you,” Pope said, tossing a vest at the blond. “I’ve been after this guy for three years. The Columbian government is extremely motivated--if I say I need it, it shows up within a week or two.” 

Benny picked up one of the assault rifles and flipped it over in his hand, examining the mag chamber and nodding. “Must be nice.”

“Listen,” Pope stopped digging through the supplies and looked at them. “I need to know you guys are sure about this. Lorea isn’t in some hole in the jungle--it’s a mansion. We’re talking guards, barbed wire fencing, security cameras. That’s why the reccie is so important.”

“We get it, man,” Tom said holding out his hand. “It’s serious shit. Now give me my com.” Tom held out his hand and Pope put a radio and earpiece in his palm. And that was that. They were all in.

The next day the five of them were in the thick of it. Frankie moved slowly through the trees, big, lush green leaves slid along his arms and torso as he stepped carefully through the mud and sticks. His steel-toed boots were quiet enough for this terrain but he kept his eyes peeled for any trip wires or trigger cameras. 

Will walked alongside him, mirroring his footsteps with about ten feet between them as they swept a path towards the chain link fence that surrounded the perimeter. Pope and Tom had set up a vantage point on the hill, using binoculars to walk them through the path and tell them what they were up against. 

It was humid as fuck and his shirt clung to his back and he felt a bead of sweat start to drip down from the brim of his hat. As he smacked a mosquito off of his arm he remembered there was a reason he had moved back to Texas.

“What are we lookin’ at, Cat?” Tom said over the radio and his voice came clearly into Frankie’s ear.

“I got two guards by the south end.” He clicked the button on his headset and kept moving.

“Looks like I got one by the gate,” Will confirmed. “How reliable is this informant, Pope?”

“She’s good for her intel.” Pope answered simply.

Pope’s informant was a local, who apparently had been feeding him information off the grid for a ticket out of the country and a small cut of the money they recovered. Apparently she drove a van onto the base like clockwork to deliver loads of Lorea’s cash. Some of the guys, mainly Tom, figured the intel was bullshit and Pope was too trusting because he had most likely been balls-deep in this broad. But if Pope trusted her, then so did Frankie.

“Yeah, that means she’s smokin’ hot.” Benny said, from his spot on the north side of the Mansion. “Blonde or Brunette? I’m trying to paint a picture here while I sweat my ass off in these fuckin’ trees.”

“Fuck off,” Pope said flatly.

“Keep the radios clear, assholes,” Tom said with annoyance in his voice. “Focus.”

Frankie walked a few more feet, making sure he stayed in the cover of the foliage as he peered through the links. And clear as day he saw their first issue. A young girl, probably about ten years old, ran past one of the guards chasing after a soccer ball, before a young boy stole it from her and they ran back into the house. 

“Shit.” He cursed. “Pope, we got kids here. Does he have kids living here with him? Because if he does that complicates things and that is not what I signed up for.” 

“The family’s not the problem,” Pope’s voice came through his ear. “They’re the answer.”

“Why?” Frankie felt the anger in his voice but he couldn’t stop it. He did not sign up to hurt kids. Drug lords? Sure. Their guards? Absolutely. If it shot at him then he would shoot back--but kids did not fit that criteria. 

“Church.” Pope said like that answered everything and the rest of them waited in silence for him to continue. “Lorea is very devout. Every Sunday morning he sends three guards to the six AM service. When they get back, he sends the rest of the team with his family down to mass. That leaves him and three guards in that house. That’s our way in.” 

“Why would he do that?” Will said.

“Worried about someone taking his kids,” Pope shrugged. “And he never leaves his money.” There was a pause over the radio before Pope continued, “Plus--I don’t think he expects anyone to actually have the balls to try and rob him.”

“What does that say about us?” Will said, approaching the fence line and looking through a few of the slats. “Shit…”

“What do ya got, Will?” Tom said over the com and everyone waited with baited breath. 

“I got an execution about to go down.”

Silence was over the coms as they all waited to hear more details. Frankie lowered his binoculars and stepped carefully over the fallen branches on the forest floor. Once he was next to Will, he peered through the slats in the worn down boards that leaned against the fence. Sure enough, there were a handful of men on their knees in the dirt, burlap bags over their heads as one of Lorea’s henchmen pressed the barrel of a handgun to the back of their skull. 

“Fuck,” Frankie whispered, shaking his head. 

Will closed his eyes as the first shot rang out and the man at the beginning of the line fell to his knees in a splatter of his own blood and brain matter. “Not our place, man.” The blond whispered and he was right. Going in there to stop whatever was happening would do nothing but get them killed. 

That’s when they heard the screaming.

“No!” her voice rang out as another shot echoed in the courtyard of the mansion and the second hostage fell beside the first. "¡Pare! ¡Pare, por favor-- no hicimos nada! Déjame ir."  Maybe if you tried Spanish they would listen to you, but you doubted it. (“Stop! Stop--please, we didn’t do anything--let me go!)

Frankie felt his stomach drop to his feet. He knew that voice. He would be able to pick her voice out of a crowd anywhere. He had heard her happy. He had heard her sad. He knew the way she whispered sweet nothings in his ear. However, what he had never heard was the near hysterical level of fear that her voice held now. 

“What the fuck?” Will whispered as realization dawned on him too and the pair watched another of Lorea’s lackies pull you from the van screaming and kicking as hard as you could. 

Your blindfold had fallen off in the transport from the city to the jungle in the middle of nowhere and although your hands were still zip tied in front of you, that didn’t stop you from trying like hell to get away. The burly bald man that pulled you from the van wrapped a large arm around your chest and picked you up off the ground. You continued to scream as they shot another one of your crew in the execution line and finally your assailant put his hand over your mouth. 

“(Y/n)...” Frankie wanted to puke. Your screams cut through him like a knife. The physical pain he felt in his chest as he watched you with wide eyes was almost too much to bear. His feet started to walk him toward the gate before he even realized he was moving.

“Cat!” Will hissed, getting up from his hiding spot and grabbing him by the back of the shirt. 

“Let me go--” Frankie tried to shove him off, keeping his voice down as much as he could. His hands shook, his knees felt like they were going to give out, but he had to get to you. His body was moving faster than his brain was processing. Why the fuck were you here? Here of all places.

Will tightened his grip and pulled him back down to his crouched hiding position. “You walk in there now, you’re dead and so is she!” Will all but begged him to listen to reason. “I don’t know why she’s here but at least she’s alive.”

Frankie held his jaw tight as he looked at Will and then back to the fence. 

“Pope,” Benny said over the radio from his vantage point. “Did you know she was here?” 

The radio stayed silent. Frankie put one knee on the ground to balance himself. He bit his lip and nodded to Will. He would stay put for now. But if they tried to kneel you down in the execution line, he was going in--with or without the others. 

As the bald man put his hand over your mouth you did the only thing you could think of and bit down hard on his fingers, driving your heel backwards against his shin. He dropped you like you had burned him and you stumbled, catching yourself on your bound hands before getting back up and trying to run. 

“Cuca!” the man cursed, shaking his hand out and quickly lunging to grab you by the hair. When you tried to kick him again he spun you around and back handed you across the face.

You hit the ground hard, a small cry coming from the back of your throat as your face hit the dirt. You could already feel the twinge in your lip and taste pennies on your tongue as you spat a small bit of blood onto the gravel. Hoping that you could close your eyes and this would all have been a dream, that's what you did. The fucker had hit you hard enough that you coughed, a hollow ache settling in your chest as you fought to not let yourself cry. 

A smaller man exited the van and saw what was happening and slapped the bald lackie on the back of his head. "No dañe la mercancía!" (Don’t damage the merchandise)

"Esta puta necesita un bozal." The bald man spat back as he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet. (This bitch needs a muzzle)

“Lorea estará muy enojado…” The smaller man scoffed and waved off the bald man, heading back across the yard. (Lorea is going to be upset.)

Cunt. Merchandise. Bitch. Frankie listened to them degrade you and he felt the bile rise up in the back of his throat. He wanted to kill each and every one of them. No. Not just kill. He wanted to make them suffer. He wanted to smash that bastard's head against the bricks over and over until he could never lay another finger on you, or anyone else, ever again. He wanted to shove the barrel of his own gun inside that prick's mouth and pull the trigger until there was nothing left of his skull but a handful of teeth. 

Frankie started to move forward again and Will grabbed him before he could get more than a couple of steps. 

"Frankie!" He all but pleaded as Frankie tried to fight his grip with a grunt and they both struggled in the leaves. Will put his arms around the other man's shoulders in sort of a modified choke hold and kept him stationary.

"You gotta let me go man--they’re gonna hurt her." Frankie tried desperately. His throat was tight, his heart was pumping way too fast, he couldn't just sit here. "I have to go get her--"

"I can't do that, brother," Will shook his head and tightened his grip ever so slightly. "It's a death sentence and you know it. We gotta regroup. Come up with a plan. We'll get her--I promise."

Frankie watched helplessly as they took you inside the mansion and out of his sight. Two years. It had been almost two years since he had seen your beautiful face. Two years since that night after playing pool at that dive bar on the outskirts of Dallas. Two years since he had smelled your skin or tasted your lips and yet there you were--just as goddamn beautiful as he always remembered and he couldn't get to you. 

"Whatta ya want to do, Pope?" Benny's voice came over the coms and brought them all back to their present task. "You're running this shit show."

"Meet back at the trailhead entrance. We'll go over everything and come up with a plan." Pope's voice said much too calmly in response and Frankie hated him for it. 

He knew. He had known from the minute he showed his face back in Texas that you were here. He had lied to his friends and worst of all he had lied to Frankie. But why? Pope knew better than any of them how close Frankie was to you--that you were special to him. 

He jerked his arms free from Will's grasp and stood up. He wouldn't do anything rash, he needed time to think. Ripping his hat off and squeezing the bill in his hand he cursed quietly and ruffled his own hair furiously. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" He growled as he started back towards the rendezvous point, not bothering to look or even care where he was going. He ripped the com from his ear and let it hang useless from the collar of his shirt.

“We need to get the fuck out of this jungle.” Will watched him go and squeezed the button on his radio again. "Cat's not doing so hot, man."

"Yeah, no shit." Benny retorted. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Easy, smartass,” Will warned.

"Don't let him go in that house and blow our cover." Tom said, flatly. As if he really thought Will would be stupid enough to let such a thing happen.

"Way ahead of you." Will snapped back before getting up to follow his friend back through the trees.

---

The five of them drove from the mansion in silence. By the time the Jeep crawled its way out of the rough terrain of the jungle the sun had already set. Crickets were starting to chirp and a few fireflies speckled the tall grasses on the sides of the road as dusk took over. Will drove with Pope in the passenger seat and Frankie in the back, purposely putting distance between the two men for the ride to the small village that they were staying at. 

No one said anything until Will parked the car in the gravel in front of a dive bar and all four doors opened as they climbed out. Before any of them could blink, Frankie walked around the car and grabbed Pope by the lapels of his button up shirt and slammed him back against the side of the Jeep. 

“Fish!” Will said, but Pope held up his hand and waved the blond off as he winced. Frankie had had the entire drive to stew about this and he more than deserved whatever he had to say. 

“You knew,” Frankie grit his teeth and got close to Pope’s face. “You fucking knew she was here and you said nothing!” 

“Is that true, Pope?” Benny asked, sticking a cigarette behind his ear. 

“Yeah,” Pope whispered and nodded his head. 

“Why?” Frankie hissed and pulled him forward slightly, pushing him back against the jeep again, not bothering to be gentle about it. “Why wouldn’t you fucking tell us, man? Why wouldn’t you tell me??”

Frankie couldn’t keep his voice from cracking at the end and at this point he didn’t care. The thought of you in the hands of a Columbian drug lord was something he could barely fathom. Were you scared? Of course you were. Had Lorea let any of his guys touch you? Hurt you more than he had seen in the driveway? There wasn’t a way for him to tell you that they were coming to get you. You were alone--and he couldn’t do a damn thing. 

“I needed to know that you guys were in this because you wanted to be--not because you would feel guilty if you said no. This is dangerous. We have no support. No back up. No med e-vac. We are on our own.” He said each word pointedly, looking from Frankie to the other guys individually before back to the man in front of him. “I needed to know that you accepted that because you wanted to and not just because my little sister was in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Frankie, laughed bitterly and shook his head. “You’re something else, Santiago. A flat tire is trouble. Getting laid off is trouble--she could have been killed.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Pope bit back, finally raising his voice a little. “Do you think this has been easy for me? That’s (y/n) in there! I’m her brother! I’m the one that chose the dangerous career--she was supposed to be safe!”

“How long have you known?” Tom asked.

“A few days,” Pope said, quietly. “I knew she was in the area because we were supposed to meet up. When she never showed the locals said Lorea had ambushed a group of Americans--journalists, a couple doctors. I tracked the ping off of her cell for a day, but then I lost it. I knew he had to have her.”

“Goddamn,” Tom said, shaking his head.

“I knew I needed help,” Pope looked back up at them. “And if I use any of the guys down here, Lorea will get whiff of this thing and he will be gone--and so will she.”

“Whose money is it?” Tom asked and Pope looked at him with a carefully blank face.

“It’s complicated. You were paid through a third party LLC--”

“Ehhh, it’s not that complicated. A hundred thousand dollars for a recon--,” Tom said sarcastically. “Whose money is it, Pope?”

Pope sighed and shook his head. “It’s my money.”

“Hijo de puta,” Frankie cursed and let out a pissed off chuckle. (Son of a bitch)

“That doesn’t change anything!” Pope tried but none of them were having it.

“Of course it does!” Will said, letting his voice get louder for the first time that night. “You thought you had to pay us to--” He stopped himself and took a deep breath.

Frankie eased his grip on the other man’s shirt a little bit and bit his lip. His chest ached. His heart felt hollow between his ribs and he wished the rock that was sitting in his throat would go away and let him take a deep breath as well. 

“How could you think that we would have said ‘no’?” Will asked. “We care about her too--she’s your family.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you the truth!” Pope pointed at him and squared his jaw. “If it was personal you all would have followed me blindly and I needed it to be your own choice.”

“You’re an idiot, Pope,” Benny said less tactfully and Will elbowed him in the ribs.

Pope wasn’t listening to them. He was focused on his best friend and he said the only thing he could think of. “I’m sorry, Frankie.” He was sorry, more than he could express. He didn’t want to be doing this, to see the people he cared about most going through this shit-storm. But they were here and it was up to him to get everybody out safe. 

Frankie released him abruptly letting Pope fall back against the Jeep and leaving his shirt wrinkled from his white-knuckled grip. He shook his head and rubbed a large hand over his eyes and down his face. “I need a minute.” He kept his voice low, trying to keep his emotions at bay as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walked off into the dark of the parking lot, focusing on nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other. 

The four of them were left in silence as they watched him go. 

“So, what about the money?” Tom finally spoke and Benny chuckled.

“Fuck you, man,” Will shook his head and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ll go see if he’s okay.” He nodded in the direction Frankie went before walking away.

Pope rubbed the back of the neck and nodded. He looked back at Tom. “The intel on the money is still valid. Lorea is still running a fully operational drug business. It’s just an added bonus to if we can pull this off.”

“Good,” Tom nodded and crossed his arms. He jerked his head over towards the patio of the bar. “Come on. You owe us a drink and we need to come up with a plan.”

---

Frankie put the cigarette between his lips and flicked it to life with his metal lighter. He inhaled deeply, pocketing the metal square and closing his eyes to rub them furiously with the back of his hand. What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to wait all night before they loaded up and headed out?

He thought about the last time he saw you. I missed you. He always missed you. The way you said his name, the way you smelled, the way your arms wrapped around his waist as you laid your head against his chest--he missed it all. 

“Shit,” he cursed quietly, moving the cigarette from his lips so he could wipe the couple of tears that had fallen off of his cheeks. 

“Cat?” Will asked, and Frankie stayed facing away from him.

“Yeah?” he said with a clearing of his throat, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Will.

“You okay?” Will asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, yeah,” Frankie nodded, taking another drag off of his smoke and blowing it back out through his nose. “I’m great.” His tone was hateful, but he couldn’t make it sound any other way and Will knew it wasn’t directed at him. 

“She’s gonna be okay, man--”

“Is she?” He angrily threw his cigarette onto the ground and twisted it under his boot. “How long have we been doing this? How long have we gone after guys like him?”

“Frankie--”

He took a step closer to Will and pointed his finger into his chest but Will stayed perfectly still. “Guys like Lorea do whatever the fuck they want until guys like us stop him. They take and they take and he has her! Why? Why did it have to be her?”

Will swallowed hard as he watched Frankie’s eyes get wider. It may have been the middle of the night, but the light of the crescent moon couldn’t hide the water that was pooling at the edge of his eyes. Will’s own heart broke for the desperate man in front of him. Of course he cared for you, too, but it was nothing compared to the torch that Frankie held for you. They all knew that. 

“What if he hurts her?” Frankie, dragged his hand down his mouth and rubbed his jaw, trying to steady his shaking words. “What if--”

“We can’t think like that. You cannot think like that.” Will shook his head and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’re going to go in that fucking mansion tomorrow and we are not leaving without her. I promise you that.”

“What if he’s already killed her? And I never got to--” Frankie bit his lip and looked out into the street with a shake of his head. “And I never got to--” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t put into words all of the things that he never got to do when it came to you. And now, for the life of him, he could not come up with a single thing that was so important that it had stood between the two of you all of these years. He closed his eyes and fell silent, not even resisting when Will pulled him into a vice-like embrace and clapped him on the shoulder a few times. 

“We’re gonna get her back. And you’re going to tell her everything you’re thinking. Okay?” Will lowered his voice and squeezed Frankie’s shoulders in support. All Frankie could do was nod and hope he was right.

--

TAG LIST: Let me know if you want to be tagged or if I missed you!

@irishleesh93 @ripleyafterdark @lokiaddicted @winters-buck​ @stevieharrrr​ @zeldasayer​ @rae-gar-targaryen​ @thebakerstboyskeeper @bookshelvesandteacups @honestlystop @seawhisperer @huliabitch @phoenixhalliwell @roxypeanut @mrsparknuts @domino-oh-damn @wickedfrsgrl @cloud-of-roses @arrowswithwifi thinemineours @sgtpenny @xxlovingfandomsxx @scorpionsandhoney @honeybeeespeaks @lukesrighthand