#this book sucker punched me in the throat and i did beg for more

[lost-daughter]

Imagine this: A world where the quality of your life is not determined by how much money you have. You do not have to sell your labour to survive. Labour is not tied to capitalism, profit or wage. Borders do not exist; we are free to move without consequence. The nuclear family does not exist; children are raised collectively; reproduction takes on new meanings. In this world, the way we carry out dull domestic labour is transformed and nobody is forced to rely on their partner economically to survive. The principles of transformative justice are used to rectify harm. Critical and comprehensive sex education exists for all from an early age. We are liberated from the gender binary’s strangling grip and the demands it places on our bodies. Sex work does not exist because work does not exist. Education and transport are free, from cradle to grave. We are forced to reckon with and rectify histories of imperialism, colonial exploitation, and warfare collectively. We have freedom to, not just freedom from. Specialist mental health services and community care are integral to our societies. There is no “state” as we know it; nobody dies in “suspicious circumstances” at its hands; no person has to navigate sexism, racism, ableism or homophobia to survive. Detention centres do not exist. Prisons do not exist, nor do the police. The military and their weapons are disbanded across nations. Resources are reorganised to adequately address climate catastrophe. No person is without a home or loving community. We love one another, without possession or exploitation or extraction. We all have enough to eat well due to redistribution of wealth and resource. We all have the means and the environment to make art, if we so wish. All cultural gatekeepers are destroyed. Now imagine this vision not as utopian, but as something well within our reach.

Lola Olufemi, Feminism Interrupted : Disrupting Power

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑨𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒛: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝑭𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓

Warnings: Some suggestive scenes are contained here.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

"Baby....no."

Hongjoong placed a hand in front of his face in an attempt to stop you from kissing him. Prying your hands off his neck, he tried to get you off his lap, but you only whined and clung harder onto him. Hongjoong wasn't very amused.

"Honey this has got to stop sooner or later."

You pouted as you grinded on his lap.

"Joongie.....don't you wanna make a baby with me?"

Hongjoong bit back the moan that got caught in his throat as his hands gripped your hips to keep you from moving.

"Baby stop. I'm not going to give in anytime soon."

"Oh. So you're willing to make Seonghwa a baby but not me?" You huffed and got off his lap, arms crossed as you angrily slumped down on the couch.

Hongjoong sighed as he turned his chair to you. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he silently prayed for help to deal with you.

"Babycakes, you know I love you and I'd adore to see you carry my child.."

Your eyes lit up at his comment.

"But we're too young right now to think about that. Let's wait a few years ok?"

Standing up, he sat down next to you before brushing his nose across your neck. Chuckling lowly, he whispered in your ear:

"And then I promise you, I'll fuck as many babies as you want into you."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa had annoyed you so much with his baby fever that the unthinkable happened:

You yourself caught it. Now you were watching baby videos and reading all about taking care of a baby, even bought a baby book name that surprised even Seonghwa when he found it in your bag.

"Babe? What's this?" He asked as he held the book up.

Walking shyly to him, you startled him by wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your nose against his.

"You win. I want to make a baby with you."

Seonghwa had to hold onto you because he nearly fell down.

"Wait....are you serious? Don't play with me. "

He became ecstatic that you finally gave in. Wasting no time, he hoisted you up and carried you to his room, eager to get started right away. Unfortunately for the both of you, Hongjoong came back early and walked in on you two.

"Ahhhh!"

He screamed as he dashed out of there, covering his eyes and bumping into Jongho who had just came back.

"Oh? I take it Seonghwa Hyung and Y/N are still making a baby? Ok. I'll just leave again."

"They're trying to what?!" Hongjoong marched back into his room, closing the door behind him.

"Well first time Seonghwa is gonna get scolded in Hongjoong's room." Jongho sipped his juice and decided to stay to see how it would unfold.

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yunho didn't know how much more he could take before he snapped. You kept begging him and pestering him with baby related things, and he of course adored kids. But one of you had to be the responsible one and remind the other that you were both too young for kids.

"Kitten, you know as much as I'd love to see you walking around with a swollen belly full of my kids, you know we can't."

You pouted at him and he couldn't help but pout back at you.

"Kitten please don't pout. You know I can't stand to see you sad." He cupped your cheeks and wiggled your face side to side slowly.

Not yet wanting to give up, you made the most adorable puppy eyes you could muster, knowing he was a huge sucker for them. Yunho widened his eyes when he realized what you were doing.

"Kitten- no! Don't do this to me! That's not fair!"

You didn't listen and instead leaned in to place open mouth kisses on the side of his neck, occasionally purring softly. Yunho didn't stand a chance. You were using all his weaknesses to your advantage and he was one thread away from breaking.

Sighing softly, he pulled you away to look at you.

"Ok. We're going to try one time. Just one time! Got it?"

You nodded eagerly and began placing tiny butterfly pecks all over his face.

"Ok ok. But if it doesn't work out, promise you'll drop it." He poked your nose, looking at you with a serious expression to get you to understand.

But deep down, you both knew it wasn't going to be a one time thing only.

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

"Yeosang! I need you to see-"

"Nope!"

Not even giving you a chance to tell him what it was, Yeosang quickly left his seat on the couch and went to the kitchen. It had been like that for the past week, your boyfriend had been avoiding you like you had the plague. You couldn't help but complain.

"You're right honey. You don't have covid. You have something much, much worse."

Leaning in, he gently pinched your nose bridge before whispering:

"Baby fever."

Gasping dramatically, he held a hand over his mouth, pretending to be shocked. You on the other hand, were getting tired of his relentless teasing and ignoring you.

"You're so mean Kang Yeosang!" You stomped away, leaving him there to laugh at how cute you were.

For the next days, you started ignoring Yeosang, instead opting to keep your baby fever to yourself. You were watching a video on your phone. Yeosang had been next to you, wanting your attention, but you refused to budge.

"Baby..." He tried snaking an arm around you.

"Unless you're talking about giving me a baby, I don't want to hear from you."

Scooting away from him, you plopped onto your stomach and resumed watching your video, but not before looking over at Yeosang and saying:

"Jerk."

Yeosang bursted out laughing. He wasn't giving in anytime soon, but he didn't mind you dragging it on. It was much more entertaining than he'd ever believe it would be.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San coughed out some of the food he was eating.

"You wanna what..?" He wanted to make sure he heard you right.

"I want a baby." You happily told him.

San wiped his mouth with a napkin, thinking of what to say next.

"Damn. Baby fever really got you bad didn't it?" He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words to soften what he'd say.

"See Y/N the thing is..."

When he looked up and saw your hopeful eyes and cheerful smile, his words were lost. He hated telling you no, but he had to at this moment. There was no other option. You were both young.

"Honey wouldn't you rather wait?"

You immediately pouted, letting out a tiny whine before perching yourself on his lap.

"No. I want you to get me pregnant. I wanna carry your baby."

San gulped slightly.

"Damn....not gonna lie, you probably would look pretty adorable with the extra weight on you..."

As you leaned in and placed tiny kisses on the corner of his mouth, San could feel his resolve weakening. He couldn't stop thinking about you looking all round and chubby with a swollen belly. And he sucked in a breath when he thought about fucking you raw. He was just about to give in, when he saw Byeol come out.

"Perfect! Honey! Why think about having a baby when we already have one?!"

You looked to where his finger was pointed at and when you saw the feline, you frowned.

"Byeol isn't a baby and she's been mean lately."

San laughed as he got up to retrieve her.

"Nonsense! She is totally a baby and she's the nicest-"

Byeol let out a menacing meow and scratched San's arm to escape his grasp, dashing down the hall.

"Byeol get back here! I am trying to prove a point!"

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

"Mingi....." You walked up to him, hands fumbling with your sleeves.

"Yes love?" His eyes were all on you, waiting for you to say something.

"Can we....can we have a baby?-"

"Oh my God! Yes! Yes! We absolutely can!"

You shrieked softly when he just picked you up and kissed you.

"You know I love kids and I can't wait until we have one of our own."

He started walking to his room to get started, but you two were stopped by the 98 liners.

"Yes you can and you will wait." Hongjoong sternly said.

From that day on, neither of you two were allowed to be alone, the others were afraid the second they let you two out of their sight, you'd be all over each other.

"You guys are mean." You whined, annoyed that you couldn't spend a date night alone with Mingi.

"We're not mean Y/N. We're protecting you both from a horrible decision." Jongho stated.

"Yeah think about it. You really wanna have kids with this?" Yeosang gestured to Mingi.

"Hey!" Mingi smacked him.

"What's wrong with wanting to have babies with Mingi?" You huffed.

"You're dating him! He's practically a baby himself!" San exclaimed.

You and Mingi both looked at each other. You suddenly cooed.

"You are baby!"

Mingi blushed before mimicking baby noises as he raised his fist and cutely punched the air, making you squeal at how cute he was.

"Someone hold me back before I break them both." Jongho stood up.

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung was not having any of your shit. Just because you had baby fever, didn't mean he was gonna let you try and infect him.

"Wooyoung-"

"No!" He'd immediately reply, not wanting to hear anything you said because lately all you talk about is babies.

He even went as far as forbidding you to touch him because he knew you'd try to get in his pants and rile him up. So for safety precautions, he'd carry a spray bottle.

"My sweet and handsome boy-"

You screeched when you felt the spray of cold water on your face.

"Back! Back away! I won't hesitate to bonk you upside the head with it!"

You growled at him before snatching the sprayer away from him and giving him the same treatment.

"Whoah ok! Stop it!"

Wooyoung began screeching as you chased him around the dorm with the bottle. San came in at that moment, looking at you both before taking the water bottle away.

"No weapons in the dorm." He reminded you.

"It was for self defense! This woman is crazy trying to get me to have kids!" Wooyoung exclaimed.

"Well you know what?! Maybe I don't want some loud annoying brat like you as my baby's father.."

You looked over at San and suddenly got an idea. Wooyoung noticed your smirk and did not like it at all.

"Don't. Even. Think. About. It."

You didn't listen though and blurted out:

"San? Wanna be a nice friend and give me a baby?"

San widened his eyes.

"I mean......sure...I guess?"

Wooyoung let out a piercing scream while San covered his ears and went to his room, Wooyoung trailing behind him, accusing him of betraying him and threatening to end their friendship when suddenly he stopped screaming. Wooyoung came back out, a large satisfied smile on his face while San came back out, holding his beloved cat in his hands.

"Here. You can have my baby for a day if you want."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho shook his head yet again.

"Y/N, this has to stop. Baby fever isn't contagious and I'm not going to get it like you did."

You grabbed onto his arm when he tried to walk away.

"But Jongho! I want to have a baby!"

Leaning in, Jongho smiled and winked at you.

"But you already have me. I'm baby."

He laughed at his cute little joke but you weren't. Your arms wrapped around his neck. Jongho sighed, staring straight in your eyes with a serious look to get his point across.

"No means no Y/N."

He got startled when you nuzzled his neck, and tensed up when you began kissing where his mole was.

"Pu-pumpkin...please d-don't do this." Jongho groaned, trying to pry you off him.

He absolutely melted when you began whimpering, not being able to resist the tiny noises escaping from your lips.

"Jongho....please.."

As soon as he heard you begging, he was done. His arms lifted you up and he pressed you against the wall. His lips immediately attached themselves to yours, kissing you hungrily, hands roaming your body.

"Fuck being the baby anymore."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[a-lonely-tatertot]

Kam and physical affection

Wow, anon you can't just give me this and expect me to not write an entire fic about it.

Just Keep Holding Me, Cause This Entire Time You’ve Been My Life Line

a/n: This is what I do instead of my school which I am currently behind in I hope you’re happy probably the fastest I've ever written and posted a fic so eyy, also unlocked spoilers

words: 1715

tw: nothing 

The first time it happened was an accident. The brush of knuckles that sent sparks of adrenaline through Tam’s arm. What the heck? he had thought. 

He had watched Keefe for a while now. How careless he was with his touch. He’d give Sophie hugs and friendly forehead kisses when she was tired. Sophie would lean into his touch. Fitz, Keefe would randomly throw over his shoulder when he was getting too uptight, too Vacker-ish. He bounce around till Fitz was giggling and weakly saying “stop stop” between gasps and everyone knew he really didn’t mean it. Biana he’d give piggyback rides, or catch her when she would dramatically pretend to swoon. They would dance around each other for fun, swinging, dipping, something they had done since they were kids and were not above showing off. When Dex was around Keefe’s arm was always around his shoulder, or he was giving cheek kisses and making Dex’s entire face seem on fire. Linh and Keefe would always greet each other with a hug and Linh lifting Keefe up off the ground for a second. Marella and him traded arm punches, fistbumps, high fives, whatever. Even Stina when she was in a good mood he would rest his head on her’s or link his arm through hers and drag her to some shiny thing he saw. Ever since Tam had known him Keefe was touch. But the one person he never touched was Tam, and Tam couldn’t explain how much he ached for it. 

When their knuckles brushed Tam tried to play it off. Tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped the way his arm buzzed. He just wasn’t used to it okay. But later that afternoon it happened again, and Tam caught Keefe’s gaze knowing he knew exactly what he was feeling. 

-

They were researching for the Neverseen and Tam and Keefe had ended up in the same time slot. Keefe was grabbing a book that was high up and was half climbing the bookcase when, as Tam had warned, he fell backward. Keefe grabbed wildly Tam’s arm and Tam gripped Keefe’s shirt. “Didn’t I tell you this would happen?” Tam scolded him when he caught his breath. 

“Yeah well I had to at least try,” Keefe said. Huffing Tam shook his head but didn’t say anything. Slowly he realized how close they were. How he was touching Keefe. How he couldn’t catch his breath because ancients why did Keefe have to look so good dissolved and grinning? He had probably been holding on for too long by then and he was trying to tell himself to let go but it wasn’t happening because Tam wanted the moment to last forever. But Keefe was noticing. “You can let go now Tammy, I’m not gonna fall over again,” Keefe laughed.

So Tam let go, ignoring how much he didn’t want to. They went to get the ladder and he banished the way he felt from his mind.

-

Keefe was out, Tam wasn’t. Everything in him was awake, screaming, replaying Keefe’s twisted face over and over as the shadowflux entered him. He hated every second. Please let him be okay, Tam begged. Please.

He was cradling Keefe’s head in his hands trying not to cry because that’s not what everyone needed. He needed to be strong, to get them out of there. Sophie said something, said she would get Keefe to Elwin, and all Tam could do was nod. And she was running and he was staring at a crime scene where he was the killer. 

-

Keefe was awake. Keefe was awake. And Tam was standing outside of Elwin’s door. To apologize? To see how he was? To make sure there was still some chance that Keefe would want him in his life? Honestly, Tam had no clue but he was here. Elwin answered the door and smiled softly in a way that tore Tam’s insides to pieces with guilt, before calling out to Keefe. Keefe showed up with a pad and paper and a grin that Tam didn’t know why it was directed at him. 

Shady McSilverbangs! Keefe’s messy handwriting wrote. Tam expected him to be mad, to not want to see him, to throw insults at him through paper. Not to greet him with a smile and a new nickname. 

Suddenly it was just the two of them, and suddenly Tam was getting dragged by his hand up stares to Keefe’s room where Keefe only gave him a second to breathe before he was crushing him in a hug. “Hi,” Tam whispered, arms hesitantly wrapping around Keefe. 

“Hi,” Keefe said so softly Tam thought he imagined it. 

“Everyone said I shouldn’t come, but I was just so scared you would hate me I’m so sorry-” Tam was cut off by Keefe squeezing him lightly.

“I don’t hate you. Not even for a second,” Keefe whispered. “I’ve never hated you.” All Tam could do was nod weakly into Keefe’s shoulder. 

They stayed like that for who knows how long until Keefe pulled away to show him around. They talked for hours, sometimes through paper, sometimes just speaking softly. When Tam went to leave finally, and the sun was starting to sink, Elwin came up to him. 

“I’m glad he talked to you, he’s barely talked at all.” Something like pride swelled up in Tam’s heart as he left.

-

It had been ten months. Ten months since Tam had saw Keefe’s face. He didn’t get a letter like Sophie and he honestly tried not to feel hurt but it didn’t work. Ten month’s later, in the middle of a fight with the Neverseen who, once again, trying to capture them he saw Keefe’s face. At first, he thought it was an illusion, maybe he was just too tired from fighting. Or maybe blood loss? He was bleeding. 

“HAHA SUCKERS THE CAVALRY HAS ARRIVED!” Keefe’s distinct voice shouted from the distance, and Tam couldn’t help but grin as the world seemed to pause in surprise. Someone, probably Fitz or Dex let out a whoop and everything started up again. He was fighting, metal clinks surrounded him, and he could taste copper in his mouth. He pushed and pushed surrounding the figure in front of him in tendrils but there were too many and he was surrounded. 

“Hey Shady looks like you could you some help,” Keefe called. 

“No shit get over here!” Tam called back. They fought on, somehow Keefe had learned to focus his power,  putting the Neverseen around him to sleep. “That’s useful,” Tam noted.

“Yeah. Hey,” Keefe spun around to face him and gripped his arm, “when this is over we need to talk.”

Tam couldn’t help the butterflies in his stomach. Apparently, ten months made everything worse, he cleared his throat, “Yes we definitely need to talk, but I think Sophie deserves an explanation more than me.”

“I’ve been sitting on this for ten months I can only wait so long Tam,” Keefe said something unnameable fulling his eyes for just a second, then he was off and something else was stealing Tam’s attention.

-

Everyone made it out alive, and the Neverseen was crippled in the process. So all and all it was one heck of a win for them. When it was all over and the Neverseen had retreated and Tam got himself out of his daze started to search for Keefe. He found Keefe getting dragged by the ear by Elwin who was happy and very very pissed and was making that very clear. 

It took about an hour for Elwin to get done yelling and checking everyone to make sure they were okay. As soon as Elwin said he was good to go Tam found himself getting dragged by Keefe back into the forest where they had fought. “You better not be trying to kill me,” Tam said acutely aware of how Keefe was holding his hand. Keefe let out a chuckle before turning to face him. 

“Uh no actually,” Keefe started and the first thing Tam noticed was that he was nervous. Why the heck was he nervous. “You know the first thing I noticed when I was in the Forbidden Cities? Well, other than the fact that ice cream is absolutely delicious. I noticed I missed you. I missed our banter, and I miss your smile that you do when you think no one is looking. The way you seemed too short circuit every time anyone seemed to show the smallest bit of affection for you. I even missed your bangs,” Keefe chuckled again and rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. “It took a lot of thinking and a new friend to tell me that I actually had a crush on you, which sent me full throttle into a sexuality crisis so that was fun. Apparently, humans have so many names for that stuff? Yeah well um, I guess what I’m saying is that-” he paused and Tam was thrown into a small rabbit hole of panic and wondering what he was saying. “Tam, I really like you, like ten months pinning and realizing I was so stupid leaving you type of I like you. And if you’d let me I’d really like to be your boyfriend.” Tam’s eyes widened as he tried to process everything. Keefe dropped Tam’s hand like it had burned him, “I mean unless I read everything wrong and you don’t feel like that I’m really sorry I shouldn’t have said that I’m going-”

Tam kissed him. Full throttle kissed him, their teeth clacked and his mouth hurt for a second but when Keefe kissed him back it didn’t matter. He grinned into the smile and let Keefe hoist him up and spin him around like some stupid human romance movie that Sophie had showed him. Not even the fact that their friends had seen them and started clapping and whooping and probably trading money could embarrass him. “So is that a yes?” Keefe asked softly when they stopped for a breath and leaned their foreheads together. 

“No,” he said in complete seriousness and watched as Keefe’s eyes widened. “Yes, it’s a yes you idiot!” 

Keefe let out a startled laugh before kissing him again and a new round of shouts rang out.

[lia-writes]

rose water & cherry lips

pairing: jaskier x reader

a/n: buckle up, because it’s rose water part two. but also, i rewrote this a couple of times and am nervous as heck to post it so hopefully, this sweet little love is enough to satisfy you! 

;

Winter brings about a sense of stillness and the cobbled streets of Novigrad slowly become your home. The life you share with Jaskier becomes quiet – routine, even.  

With the snow, comes new feelings. Foreign in the way they settle in your chest, nestled right up next to your heart.  

He plays for the crowds at a few inns and taverns. Mostly, you join him. His popularity seems to grow larger by the week. The doting women, sniffing into their sleeves or handkerchiefs watch him play with love in their eyes. It makes your heart thumpthump a little harder from across the room each time.

Stolen kisses and chaste touches at your waist had woven itself between you, comfortably. Never any less, but neither of you seemed quite brave enough to take it that one step further. In your head, perhaps. His weight on top of you, beneath the bed covers. A dream that’s woken you in a slight sweat and the need for your hand to dip between your thighs on more than one occasion.

You’re in awfully deep, looking up at him with rose-tinted glasses.  

This time, as the sun begins to sink behind Novigrad’s buildings, Jaskier heads down the street alone toward a large tavern called The Hearthstone. You’re left next to the fire, a new book in one hand and a cup of fine wine in the other.

It’s late when he finishes his performance, plays a round of Gwent and heads home to you.  

Despite the frosted touch to the air, drunk men stumble down the street past him and a pair of ladies' whistle at him from the torch-lit doorway of a brothel.  

He ignores them and presses forward, adjusting the lute’s case on his shoulder and his grip on the bottle of wine he won... or was gifted.

When he arrives back at your door, cheeks flushed and fingers stiff with cold he expects you to be sleeping. So, when he finds you in the bathtub, back to him and the rising steam making your hair curl, the wine bottle almost slips from his hand.  

You throw a glance over your shoulder, cheeks rosy from the bathwater and offer a smile. He tells himself that it’s his return that’s brought the color to your face.  

Placing the bottle of wine on the desk, he sets his lute down and wrings his hands together.

In a good way, you have the ability to make him nervous. You’re the blood within his veins. The ebb and flow of his life force and he, yours. Looking at you then from across the room, his words die in his throat. His complimentary half that makes his love feel whole and needed.

The gentle splishsplash of the water beneath your dancing fingertips draws him closer to you, body lowering to sit on the floor next to the bathtub.  

He reaches out to let his fingertips skim across your arm, up and down and up and down as he gazes at you. “What’s keeping you up?” he asks softly.

“Nothing... Honestly.”

A head tilt and pointed stare from him makes you sigh.

“Okay,” you relent, “I was out at the market earlier today, while you were still sleeping and... I ran into an old friend.”

“Oh?” He expects you to tell him a tale of an old lover from younger years – after all, there was once a time where the two of you were mere strangers.

You shake your head knowingly, “A female friend. We grew up together and when I saw her... On the arm of her husband... she really did seem grown-up.”

He leans forward with his elbow resting on his knee and his chin falling into his palm.  

“It made you feel like you were missing something?”  

“Yes.” Your stare hits him like a sucker punch to the gut.

A gulp.

The pulse in your neck jumps.

“I can’t imagine my life without you,” he begins, eyelashes fluttering with each blink until you reach out to place a finger over his lips. He thinks about letting his tongue dart out to taste you then, the light scent of rose-scented soap on your skin.

“Please, don’t. If this is what you want, then it must be sincere, Jaskier.”

“Well, you certainly make a desperate fool feel loved.”  

He doesn’t understand how this isn’t sincere, surrounded by the entirety of all the love he could possibly offer you.

This is your chance. This is your chance. This is your chance.

“The water’s still warm,” you say after a beat of silence.  

“Changing the subject with your... Temptation?” His eyes drag up your body, mostly hidden beneath the water, cloudy from the soaps you’d used earlier.

Your laughter is soft. The affection that warms his grey eyes darkens with something a little more lustful and you chew at your lower lip.  

His hand leaves your arm to pull his boots off – chucking them across the room toward the door. The jacket he wears follows quickly.  

“My wife...” it’s whispered as he stands to undo his trousers and tug his shirt over his head.  

“Mmmm.” You sigh, quite content with watching him undress.  

The curve of your spine, and the damp tendrils of hair that spill over your shoulders makes him hold his breath as he climbs into the bath to sit behind you.  

It’s easy to settle back against his chest and feel like you’re finally home.  

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says, breath warm and tickling against the back of your neck.  

Letting your fingertips intertwine, you pull his arms from where they rest against the sides of the bath to wrap around your waist beneath the water.

“Just hold me,” you mumble and he tightens his grip on you, heartbeat thumping against your back. He wonders if you can feel it – skin to skin.  

The water cools as the silence between you grows, comfortably.  

"I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. It was entirely accidental.”

He chuckles softly, “you did try and fight it, huh?”  

“I was tired of being lonely I guess.”  

“Is that all?”  

“You were it all, what life had promised me as a young girl, dreaming of her future wedding with her friends.”  

A kiss pressed at the side of your neck.

“You’re too good for me,” between kisses that duck to your shoulder.

“I want you... More than anything I’ve ever wanted,” your head tucks against his chest, eyes gazing up to lock with his.  

Suddenly, the water is boiling.

His hands trail up your sides as he stands then, pulling you to your feet with his grip under your arms.  

Laughter. Loud and filled with the hope that love exists.

You exist.  

And you’re the best life he could ever imagine.  

This entire thing feels so under-rehearsed and your laughter reduces to soft breaths, letting him help you out of the bath, bodies silken from the soapy water and flush against one another.

“Tell me you want this,” he fumbles to find his voice, breath stolen by the look you keep giving him.

“I want more than this,” a quirk of your eyebrow, urges him onward.  

“You kill me, you know that?”

The anticipation fucking kills you, slowly stealing your breath and making your heart jump all at once. Your desire for him is painful, both lodged in your chest and pooling between your legs.

It's you that kisses him first, lips meeting his with foolish energy.  

Jaskier’s hands dance down the length of your spine, nails making your body curve against his. When they round your bottom, you jump and he catches you.

With legs wrapped around his waist, you’re hungry for his touch until he nips at your lower lip.  

“Please don’t rush this, this is something I never get to relive.”  

His next kiss is against your smile and you notice him stumble in the direction of the neatly made bed.  

Your feet touch the ground as he reaches the side, hands remaining around his neck to kiss him again.  

“Are you... begging me to be patient... Jaskier?”  

The weight of his body against yours throws you back onto the bed. When he straddles your thighs, you’re painfully aware of his arousal and you jerk your hips up into him – his groan reverberates against your lips

His hands grasp yours at either side of your head and you swear your knuckles whiten when he rocks himself back against you

“Two can play that game, my dear,”  

You’re about to pull your hands from his to let your nails rake up his back but he holds fast, palms melding to one another.

“Apparently not,” his lips travel downward, along the edge of your jaw and pause to suck a bruise at your pulse point.  

Another impatient buck of your hips has him growl lightly against your skin.

“Jaskier,” a whine, the throb between your legs winding you higher and he shifts to rest his weight between your thighs, knees nudging at the soft skin.

Your legs are quick to wrap around his waist and his eyes draw up to meet you.

Red marks trailed along your collarbone. Another jerk of your hips and the heat coils firmly in your abdomen.  

“You really love me,” he says between kisses at the top of the swell of your chest. Your breath heaves. His lips ghost across your breast, tongue darting out to swirl around your nipple, skin hot beneath his mouth.

“The anticipation is building.” you chuckle softly, hands tightening their hold.  

“I can tell.” He glances at you again, distracted by the adoration in your eyes when you look at him. “Good.”

He kisses down your sternum before untangling one of your hands, letting his hand skim against the dip of your waist.  

You make use of your free hand, nails scraping up his back to make him hum against your other nipple.

“Pretty please?” yeah, you’re begging now.

His hand reaches between the two of you, fingertips smoothing the skin of your inner thigh.  

“Stop... teasing.” you eventually gasp, hand following his, to guide it firmly to the heat of your center.  

“For me, sweetheart?” Jaskier’s eyes meet yours, the look within them a mix between humor and kindness.  

“That’s what you do to me,” you give a crooked smile and he moves back to kiss you. He strokes his finger between your folds, a boyish grin on his face, before settling his thumb at your clit.  

You’re whining against his lips between kisses. He swallows your moans and pitched cries with an eagerness you welcome, hand clutching his desperately

“Gods, I love you,” your chest heaves and he savors the neediness you have for him, dropping his head to lick a bead of sweat from your sternum, “cheeky,” you swat at the back of his head with a giggle.  

After a moment, your hips twitch against his and your eyes flicker to meet his, pupils blown and dark with want.  

A violently passionate kiss later and he drags his hand away from your heat to himself. 

His first thrust is daringly slow and his lips roll into his mouth at the feeling of finally being able to love you so completely.

When your hand comes up to card through his hair, nails light against his scalp he buries his head at your shoulder.  

But still, with your hips rocking to meet his, you’re holding hands. His name on your breath makes him groan into the crook of your neck.

“I’m yours,” Jaskier’s words, sweet like honey at the side of your mouth make your breath hitch. Another rolls of his hips, “...and I love you,”  

The air between you thins, his scent mixing with yours like morning fog.  

Your name, sung like a prayer on repeat when he hits that spot and you tighten around him. Throwing your head back against the pillows, he drops to kiss you hotly down your neck.  

His hand drifts to brush over your clit between thrusts. You’re very much out of your head when your toes curl and your hand grips at his like a lifeline.

It’s a plummet to the high heavens when you finally peak, eyes shut tightly and the taste of him on your lips. Your shuddering pleasure coaxes the height of his own, a choked gasp breaking through a kiss and blood rushing through his head to render him senseless.  

“Iloveyou,Iloveyou,Iloveyou,” over and over with the beat of Jaskier’s heart, his lips at your ear.

After a moment, he kisses your forehead and slips from between your thighs. The smile on your face comes naturally when he rolls onto his side to face you.

Your tongue darts out to savor the aftertaste of him upon your lips and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to pull yourself from his hold.  

A shared glance has you both giving a light laugh and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face -

��Is it fair if I ask you to wed me now?”  

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Dancing In The Dark or Jealous Rage

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage contains potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and smutty content.

Summary: Kirby goes with the girls out to a night club while Roddy is away, jealous escapades ensue after he gets back and hears about her antics.

Kirby's POV:

I woke up the following morning (The 24th) alone, no sign of Rod, I was confused until I saw the clothes laid out and a note on top of my leather jacket.

'I've gone to do some work in Pennsylvania. Don't worry, I'll be back later this week. Love You, Mo Chridhe. Roddy.'

"Mo Chridhe, that's, that is Scots for … yeah, Scots Gaelic for my heart … Aww, Roderick you romantic eejit."

I went about my usual morning routine and the rest of the day was thoroughly uneventful, but the night, oh the night was fun, or at least it was when it started.

Billie had suggested we go out for drinks and have a good time, and so we did.

About three Espresso Martinis in I started to loosen up.

"So," Vickie inquired, "How's Piper?"

"I'm not sayin' nothin'"

"Oh, c'mon Kirbs," Sam begged, "Tell us."

"No, mind your own business."

"Kirbs, ya gotta tell us at some point." Holly added, the alcohol making her New Jersey accent thicker.

"Alright, fine, but don't tell anyone." I warned

They nodded in agreement and let me continue.

"When we came back to New York, we started dating and one thing led to another and we 'made love' but regardless of all that, I think he's the one."

"So, you'll marry him?"

"If he asks, Vic, if he asks."

Holly butted in, "I need to get you around other men, you know, to see if Piper's the real deal."

She took me by the arm and dragged me, drink in hand, over to a gaggle of men, all of whom looked like they were either construction workers or American football players. Holly let go of my arm and sat on one of the guys laps, whispering something I couldn't hear before getting up and walking off.

I felt like a piece of meat being thrown to a pack of tigers, it didn't take long for one of them to take the drink from my hand, place it on the table and lead me to the dancefloor.

Now, you must know, I'm not one for dancing, I'll sway to a relaxed beat or head bang along to some rock but, dancing with someone who I don't know in a provocative way isn't my thing, but without hesitation this guy started hitting on me and trying to get up close and personal.

It took all of my mental strength not to sucker punch the guy in the face and walk back to the hotel, I held out for as long as I could. hours passed without me realising and I had gotten quite tipsy, Vickie walked me back to the hotel and dumped me on the bed in the pitch black of the room, closing the door behind her and her footsteps quickly faded out of hearing range.

The next day (25th January 1984) was much like the previous, get up, morning routine, grab some coffee, wait to see if I had any matches booked, hear nothing from Damien, go out with the girls that night for some 'fun' but to me that 'fun' was ever so slightly turning into heart-breaking torture.

Any time I danced with these random guys in clubs, I wanted to be able to slow dance with Rod, to hold him close to me as the music played in the background. I didn't get as drunk as the night before and got back slightly earlier, trying to call Roddy to hear his voice, but he didn't pick up. I went to sleep alone again and had a nightmare once again.

I woke up on the morning of the Twenty-Sixth to the sound of the door opening and closing, hearing a distinctly Scottish voice whisper out the phrase 'Mo Chridhe'.

"Rod, is that you?"

"I didn't mean to wake ya, it's just, well," His voice faltered, as if he didn't know what to say, "Billie stopped me in the hall and told me everything." He sounded hurt.

"I tried to call ya. I tried to be the first to let you know what we had done." I got up and took my sweat-stained shirt off, tossing it to the floor and heading to the bathroom, still half asleep.

"Ya did? Ya went out and danced with strangers two nights in a row while I was gone and thought a phone call could patch things up?"

That set me off, I rushed out of the bathroom to confront him, "I fucking hated doing it! Both times! I wanted to reel back and sucker punch those bastards in the face! Roderick Piper, would you fucking listen to me! I am your girlfriend! I am YOUR fucking woman! Would you just fu-"

A rough but passionate kiss broke the stingingly lonely silence from him, his hands caressing my arms and holding me close. I hadn't realised I was crying until then, I hadn't realised he had let a few tears slip himself until he pulled away and wiped his eyes.

"I'm sorry I ever brought it up. I know ya wouldn't do anything without a good reason and I'm so, so sorry I left without telling ya before I did."

I sat myself down on the edge of the bed, wiping the tears from my eyes and feeling Rod put his arm over my shoulder.

"Schultz told me to buy you roses, ya know. An' I told him I didn't think ya liked roses, I told him that I thought ya would like chrysanthemums instead."

I let out a small 'uh huh' and Rod continued.

"I also told him that when we got back I was gonna take you out for some blueberry waffles and a hazelnut cappuccino, cause I know how ya like those an' we could be together and just relax an-"

"Roddy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Can you dance?"

"I'm not a great dancer, why?"

"Well, can you just sway to the rhythm of a song?"

"With you, absolutely."

"Thank you, f'anwylyd."

"Anytime, mo chridhe."

He kissed my cheek and my temple, whispering out a gentle 'I'm sorry' before using his other hand to make me face him and kissing me gently but lovingly. He got up, pulling me off the bed and turning the clock radio on and increasing the volume.

"And now, a big hit from last year, this is Big Country with 'In A Big Country'."

'I've never seen you look like this without a reason'

Rod twirled me around in his arms, a smirk already on his face.

'Another promise fallen through'

I could hear Rod mumbling the words in unison with the radio.

'Another season passes by you'

He twirled me back around, stepping closer and intertwining his fingers with mine and curving his other arm around my back.

'I never took the smile away from anybody's face'

Rod had stopped mumbling the words and started humming along.

'And that's a desperate way to look'

The sweet smile on Roddy's face made me smile lovingly in return.

'For someone who is still a child'

He cleared his throat, spinning me away from him before pulling me close to his chest.

"In a big country dreams stay with you" Rod sang in unison with the radio.

"Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside" I joined in.

'Stay alive, here we go'

"I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered" We sang in unison with the radio.

"But you can't stay here with every single hope you had shattered"

"I'm not expecting to grow flowers in a desert"

'But I can live and breathe'

Rod misstepped and fell backwards onto the bed with me landing on his lap.

'And see the sun in wintertime'

"Are ya alright Roddy?"

'In a big country dreams stay with you'

"I'm fine, sweetheart, are you okay?"

'Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside'

"I'm okay. Everything's fine in the world again."

'Stay alive'

I stood up and helped Roddy off the bed, turning the radio down slightly and humming before singing along.

"In a big country dreams stay with you"

Rod soon joined in, going back to a simple two step and trying not to stumble again.

"Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside"

"Stay alive"

"So take that look out of here it doesn't fit you"

"Because it's happened doesn't mean you've been discarded"

"Pull up your head off the floor, come up screaming"

A knock at the door quickly silenced the two of us and Rod turned the radio off completely, giving me a quick kiss on the lips and walking over to answer the door. Upon seeing the frame of the guy leaning against the wall, I sighed heavily and Rod looked between me and this nobody.

"Hey, I was told this was Miss Kay's room, who are you, her brother?"

"Wrong, Idiot. I'm her husband."

I wanted to interrupt Roddy but held my tongue, trusting that he knew what he was doing.

"Yeah, right, small fry, and I'm the Pope, move outta the way." the guy's mood shifted from confusion to anger.

"No really," Roddy pressed, his voice getting more gravelly with rage, "I'm her husband ya slovenly low life, now fuck off before I hurt ya."

The guy got further into Roddy's face, "What are you gonna do, limp dick."

Rod smirked, "Limp dick, huh," He mocked before poking the guy in the eyes, "Bye-Bye, asshole," He finished, slamming the door in the guy's face.

We could both hear the sound of the guy saying 'fuck that' and running down the hall.

"'I'm her husband'?" I raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Well I'm not gonna say 'She's my girlfriend'. Being your husband has more impact."

"Ya could've just called me over and kissed me, Roddy."

"Who was that guy?"

"Some fuck from one of the nights you weren't here. Ugly motherfucker too, surprised he knew where to find me…" I trailed off, knowing exactly who had told him where I was, "That little Greek bitch."

I stormed my way up to the door, only being stopped by Roddy mere seconds before I could leave the room.

"Woah, woah. Calm down there, Giantess. We don't want a massacre now, do we?"

I breathed out a heavy sigh and Rod pulled me into a hug.

"C'mere baby girl," He rubbed his hand up and down my back to soothe me, "Calm down baby, I know it may be aggravating to have someone ya trust try to split up a good thing, but just calm down."

"But she told them where we, or at least I am, Rod. I can't trust her after that. Especially after her trying to set me up with one of the ugliest motherfuckers I've ever seen."

"What about me?" He said pulling away and sitting on the edge of the bed

"Well, you're," I stopped, searching my mind for the right words, "Well, you're just, you are so handsome. You've got the most amazing blue-hazel eyes, and your hair is such a rich brown, and you're built, y'know, your musculature makes you look strong but not intimidating, however that may just be a giant to normal person thing. Oh, and your voice is calming to me, except when you're cutting a promo. I mean I would object to your choice in shirts, but only because the idea of other women seeing how muscular you are through the way your shirts cling to your body gets me a little pissed off."

"I make you get jealous, really?" he teased.

"Don't you dare." I warned, trying to stop him from aggravating me further.

"Does the idea of women fantasising about me gets you riled up with fury?"

"Rod, don't do this."

"Does the idea of me posing with another woman in my arms anger you?"

"Roddy, shut up."

"How about the idea of me kissing another woman while drunk?"

"Roderick. You shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you."

"What if I laid on the beach with just a towel coverin' my crotch, in full view of a bunch of ladies, how does that make you feel."

"I warned you, three times now, don't you go getting me angry, boyo. You'll see how vengeful I can be, Roddy," I pondered for a moment before changing into a knee-length amber coloured dress along with my spiked black heels, my leather jacket and a thin layer of apricot scented lip gloss and headed out, "Bye Roderick."

"Wait no, baby, come back."

I closed the door and fast-walked down the corridor, heading towards the stairwell, hearing Roddy open the door just as I started down the stairs.

He caught up with me about five minutes later, while I was waiting outside, handing me my wallet and pressing a kiss to my cheek, before whispering in my ear.

"I'm sorry I got you jealous, now can we please go out to somewhere, nice."

"If you're so sorry, you won't try that trick again, right?"

"Oh absolutely, I don't want you to do that again."

I kissed him and started walking down the street, Piper's hand just above my ass and his plethora of sweet nothings once again flowing from his lips. We headed out for the evening and by the time we got back to the hotel, a now drunk Roddy laid down and passed out before I even got the chance to kiss him goodnight.

END OF DANCING IN THE DARK or JEALOUS RAGE

[ghostsray]

You are my brother (boogie woogie)

(my first @phicphight 2020 fic! based on @dp-marvel94‘s prompt: “Vlad successfully clones Danny again. When Danny meets this new clone, the boy is nothing like he expects.”)

(word count: 2625) (AO3)

Danny sunk onto his bed, the soft matress feeling like heaven after a long day of school and ghost-fighting. He was so exhausted that he wished nothing would interrupt his brief moment of respite. Thus he released a deep groan when he heard his bedroom door creak open.

"Oh, don't groan at me," his sister said. She entered the room and sat next to him on the bed.

"What do you want, Jazz?" Danny's voice came muffled from where it was buried face down on his bedsheet.

He lifted his head high enough from the bed to see Jazz staring at him with crossed arms. "You could have told me you went to Vlad's," Jazz said.

Danny scowled. "What are you talking about?"

Jazz faltered. "You mean...you didn't?"

"No, of course not. Why the hell would I go to that froot loop's place?" He sat up beside Jazz, who was busy fidgeting.

"I thought he looked like--nevermind. It was probably someone else."

"Who looked like me?"

Jazz pulled out her phone and opened it to a photograph. There was Vlad Masters standing in front of his mansion. By his side was a teenage boy who looked an awful lot like Danny.

"Someone took a photo of the mayor in front of his house with a child," she explained, then hesitated and added, "When someone asked him who it was, he said it was his son."

Danny's face darkened. He took the phone from Jazz and observed the boy in the picture. Although he was dressed more smartly than Danny normally would, there was no denying that they were related. On first glance, he looked identical to Danny: everything from his pale skin and short stature to the way his mouth sloped when he smiled. But after looking at him more closely, he could make out a few minor differences: his black hair was streaked with messy white stripes, his eyes were a shade darker blue than Danny's, and his face was just slightly slimmer. None of that fooled Danny, though. Danielle also looked somewhat different from him, and she was still his genetic clone.

Danny stood up, the day's exhaustion from a minute ago completely forgotten. "I think I need to pay our Uncle Vlad a little visit," he said grimly.

"Wait, now?" Jazz asked just as Danny transformed before her in a flash of light. She shielded her eyes as he changed into ghost form, and when she looked up again, he was already gone.

.

The way to the mayor's mansion was quick. As he flew in Phantom form, Danny kept thinking up insults he would throw at Vlad once he saw him. He slipped intangibly into the building and began to search for the man.

He didn't find Vlad, but he did run into his son.

He was sitting in the library, reading a copy of Dracula. On a regular occasion, Danny would have found it hilarious that the vampire-looking ghost would own the book in his library, but he wasn't feeling very festive at that moment. As he stared invisibly at the boy, Danny couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in his stomach from looking at him. He had spent lots of time with his other clone, Danielle, but she was younger than him, so it didn't bother him that much. This clone in the library was much closer to Danny's age, and therefore, much more similar in appearance. Even with the darker eyes and streaked hair, Danny felt like he was looking in a mirror.

As similar as the clone was in physical appearance, though, Danny would never be caught dead(er) in his clothes. The dude reeked of Vlad's ill-gotten wealth. He wore the kind of polo shirt that only snobby rich kids wore, and his feet were in loafers that Danny could never afford. It was clear that the clone had tried to comb his hair into an orderly position, but just like Danny's hair, it was impossible to tame and was sticking out in various places. Danny thought he even saw him wearing some of Vlad's mascara, but that might have been his imagination.

Once he got over the shock of seeing a wealthier copy of him in person, Danny toughened his expression, floated in front of the clone, and dropped his invisibility. The clone jumped in his chair and nearly dropped his book in surprise.

"Let me guess," Danny drawled. "Daniel Masters?"

There were many different outcomes that Danny could have expected. The clone could have been like Danielle, held under Vlad's control against his will, and begged Danny to help him. Or he could have been the opposite, completely under his evil influence, and released an evil laugh and said something like Yes, it is I, now prepare to die and let me replace you. Or maybe Vlad could have decided not to risk another Danielle incident and hid the fact that he was a clone from him, thus making him deeply confused by the similar-looking ghost in front of him.

What happened was none of the above.

The teenager's eyes lit up, and he exclaimed in a voice full of excitement, "You're Danny! The original!"

Danny faltered for a moment, put off by the sudden admiration in the clone's voice and the smile that had plastered itself onto his face. "Um, yeah," he replied. "And you--"

The clone extended a hand and said, "I'm Daniel--but you already knew that. I also go by the name Niel!"

Danny was so flabbergasted that he shook the hand without thought. "Niel?" he asked.

"N-I-E-L. Daniel, Niel. It's a different pronunciation, but close enough to my written name. Plus, it's not like I want to go around using your name. Well, even though Dad still insists on calling me Daniel because he's boring like that."

"Dad," Danny echoed. "You mean Vlad."

That stupid grin was still on Niel's face as he said, "Yep. He created me, didn't he? By combining your DNA with some of his. Mostly yours, but he said he couldn't get your mid-morph DNA and had to use his own, which was hard because you two are really different and it took him a while to make me, but now I'm here. It makes sense for me to call him Dad. Or Father, but that's boring. I mean, who even uses that word anymore? Fa-ther."

He giggled, and Danny stared. The Fenton struggled to make sense of this clone. He was so...childish. Unlike neither Vlad nor Danny, except maybe for when Danny was six years old and still filled with childish glee. Now that he thought about it, he supposed Niel was technically even younger than that.

As soon as Danny remembered how to speak again, he said, "You're awfully calm about being a clone."

Niel shrugged. "Sure, I was cloned from you, but I like to think I'm still my own person. I mean, I know Dad probably made me to replace you, but that's dumb." His eyes sparkled, and he concluded, "I think we should be brothers."

"Brothers?" Danny asked, then a gear clicked in his brain and he responded, "Hold up, I am not going to live with you and Vlad. We're not brothers."

Niel seemed a little disappointed, but he pressed on. "Why not? We are brothers; our DNA is close enough. Unless you want to call me your son, but that's too weird." (Danny had to agree.) "Anyway, I know you're okay with calling your clones family because you call Danielle your cousin, even though she should be our sister. We should all live together--me, you, Dad, and Danielle, even though I don't know why she ran away exactly, but I'm sure she and Dad can make up."

He seemed so passionate about the idea of living as a family that Danny almost felt bad for bursting his bubble. "Sorry, but my answer is still no," he stated. "I don't know how nice Vlad is to you, but from my experience, he's a terrible dad. You were right about me calling Danielle my cousin, but that's because she didn't have a family after Vlad refused to accept her."

Niel's face scrunched up in confusion. "But...Dad said she left by herself because she was confused about being your clone."

"You must have mixed up confused with abused," Danny replied dryly. "Vlad tried to kill her. He wanted to melt her down to make you."

Niel looked like he was either constipated or in pain. "But--That's not--I mean, he wouldn't--" he stammered. "He's a good father to me!" He finally exclaimed, forgetting his previous statement that no one used the word father. "I'm sure he's changed!"

"Yeah, right," Danny said with a roll of his eyes. "That's about as likely as Mr. Lancer saying a real swear word."

"Who's Mr. Lancer?"

"Unimportant. What I'm saying is, your "Dad" majorly sucks. I'd say no offense, but I mean full offense to Vlad."

Niel gripped the copy of Dracula in his hands until his knuckles turned white. Danny half expected him to either start attacking Danny or to break down crying. However, after a few seconds passed, Niel took a deep breath until he calmed down, then he said, "He'd still be a better parent to you than those Fentons."

Danny snorted. "No doubt. Did Vlad tell you that? I bet he had a lot of words to say about my dad."

"He did," Niel confirmed, "but I don't really care about his petty grudge with Jack. I could tell the portal thing was an accident. It's silly to still hate him for something that happened twenty years ago."

Danny faltered. That wasn't what he expected Niel to say. "Then why..."

"Why?" Niel's dark blue eyes bore into Danny's light blue ones, and he said simply, "They hunt you."

Danny felt like he had been sucker punched in the gut. He swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat. "Ah. That..."

"I watch the news," Niel pressed on, digging the metaphorical dagger deeper into Danny's hide. "They go after you every day. They want to kill you. They say they're going to tear Phantom apart molecule by molecule."

"That's because they don't know it's me," Danny argued weakly.

"Then why don't you tell them?" Before Danny could respond, Niel held up a hand and interrupted, "That was rhetorical. I know why you keep your ghost half a secret. You're scared of them."

Danny balled his hands into fists. "I'm not scared," he growled.

"Really? You seem pretty scared to me."

It was true. Sweat was pouring from his forehead. Danny wiped it away and pressed his lips into a thin line. "I'm not scared," he continued to lie, "and I know they're better parents than Vlad. They may hate Phantom now, but I'll get them to change their minds."

Niel laughed--a villainous laugh that reminded Danny heavily of Vlad. "Yeah, right. The Fentons becoming buddies with Danny Phantom?" He grinned at Danny and added, "What was it you said? That's about as likely as Mr. Lance saying fuck."

"Lancer," Danny corrected.

"Whatever."

Danny glared at Niel, who smiled pleasantly in return. "Join Vlad," Niel told him. "Be my brother. We can keep you away from them, and then you won't have to be scared anymore." Niel frowned slightly and amended, "Well...we'll keep you away from Jack, at least. Dad still has this dumb infatuation with Maddie...but I think he can be content with letting her go if he got you."

Danny's glare melted into something sadder. "Do you really believe that?"

"Yes," Niel answered with conviction. "I'll get Dad to take you away from them. We'll be brothers, and maybe Jazz and Danielle can be our sisters. We'll be a happy family."

Danny's gaze lingered on him a moment longer, then it wandered down to the book he still held with an iron grip. "Niel," Danny called the clone's name hesitantly, then he sighed. "You're too young."

Niel was puzzled by the sudden change in subject, but he told him, "Dad said I'm fourteen. The same age he got the DNA sample from you, even though you're sixteen now."

"Yes, but your literal age is, what, one?" Danny lifted his eyes again to look at Niel as he spoke. "You don't have a lot of experience."

"I have knowledge. I read."

"It's not enough. You haven't spent a lot of time with Vlad; you don't know him like I do. He'll never let go of my mom. Danielle and him will never make up. And I--and Jazz--will never join him because he's a horrible person."

Niel looked like he was one tick away from bursting. "Why not?" he challenged, but he sounded more desperate than mad. "What's so bad about him?"

"Let's see...he's a cheater, a liar, super creepy, and a huge jerk," Danny listed on his fingers. "He kidnapped me, like, twenty times, and he always sends deadly ghosts after me to either kidnap me again, or kill my dad. That's not someone I would ever want to be family with."

Niel's jaw was taut. "So you won't change your mind."

Danny shook his head.

Niel's hands shook as he breathed, but he was eerily calm as he placed his book on a table by his chair and stood up. "Dad told me you wouldn't listen, that you're too stubborn. I guess I should have believed him."

"Niel..."

Niel's face was relaxed as he looked at him, but his eyes burned with dark fire. Suddenly, twin rings of light flashed across his body, transforming him into a ghost.

Though Danny knew that Niel had some of Vlad's genes, that fact was made more obvious in his ghost form. He still looked like Danny and even wore the same black-and-white jumpsuit, but he had blue skin and red eyes like Plasmius. Streaks of black ran across his white hair where the opposite color had been in his human form. He must have inherited his dad's dramatic sense of fashion, because a high-collared, Dracula-esque cape draped over his jumpsuit, similar to the one Vlad wore.

As Danny stared at the ghost before him, he felt a cold spread through his body, and it wasn't his ice core. Niel's form reminded him too much of another ghost who was mostly Danny and a little Vlad. Suddenly, Danny felt less like he was looking in a mirror, and more like he was looking at a younger version of the alternate future self of his that killed his friends.

No, Danny sternly told himself, forcing the panic back down. Niel wasn't Dan. He wasn't a genocidal adult ghost with fiery hair and an icy heart. Niel was just a snobby little rich kid who thought Vlad was the balls and didn't know much about the world. He felt himself relax a bit as he successfully kept himself together, but his hands were still in fists by his sides in case Niel attacked.

"Calm down, brother. I'm not going to fight you," Niel assured him calmly. "At least, not today. Knowing Dad, he'll inevitably make us fight each other someday, unless you change your mind about joining him."

"In his dreams," Danny spat. "Tell him to shove a froot loop up his ass."

Niel sighed, like he was disappointed but not surprised. "Goodbye, Danny," Niel said, and he floated off the floor as he said it. "I'll see you soon."

He abruptly dropped through the floor below and out of sight. Danny turned intangible and followed him, but when he emerged in the mansion's lower floor, Niel was nowhere to be seen.

[ificanwriteiscannon]

Dynasty –Ferdia Walsh-Peelo Imagine

Pictures are not mine, just got them on google and put them together. 

This came to me when wacthing a brazilian soap opera and mathoning Vikings after. Hope it doesnt sucks

ps: english is not my first language so sorry if you find any mistake <3

Warning: talk about reincarnation, past lives and things like that but not too much tho

-x-

It started like a feeling, small butterflies in her stomach. She still remembered the first day she felt it, it was just her first day on set.

“I still can’t believe I’m here Alex” Y\N whispered excitedly to her old friend “That WE are here. It’s what we dreamed, remember?!”

The actor laughed and hugged his friend by his side “Of course I remember Y\N! Who would had thought that we’d be here”

She was the camera assistant and he the actor. It was the begging of their journey and they were at the tv show of the moment.

The scene was to be filmed in the insides of a castle. A scene where Ivar played chess with prince Alfred. The whole situation gave Y\N a sense of familiarity. ‘You’ve been here before. You lived this..’ Something yelled inside her. But still she wasn’t prepared to listen.

It wasn’t until the young actor entered. Her eyes searched for him, but when she localized him she felt disappointed. ‘It is not him’ the same small voice said.

The camera girl played with the book in her hands, the next time it happened.

When she was hired to work at the show something ignited inside her and her curiosity and passion for those old times consumed almost all of her free time. But still, a character seemed to be the point of most interest…

“Lunch break my lady?” Alex. The actor bowed in front of her still in his Ivar clothes. She chuckled. It was amazing how he could go from scary bloody Viking to the small puppy she called friend.

“Sure” Y\N closed her book and left with her belongs getting up from the common area they had for the crew. “So,..” She started while they walked to get their lunch “Have you meet the new addictions to the cast?”

“Why do I always get a feeling you’re waiting for someone?”  Alex raised an eyebrow and the girl rolled her eyes

“Well, you know I’ve always been a sucker for Jonathan Rhys Meyers” She shrugged but he still gave her a suspicious look.

“Why I don’t…” Alex’s voice disappeared from her ears when she found him in the middle of the people. It was a time stopping moment. His gaze was fixed in another actor at his side while the other said something that made him laugh. His laughter died as soon as he found her eyes.. Both trapped in each other, unable to move.

‘Forever and Always, my love’

He broke the trance as he got up, her eyes had gone wild and when he moved to approach, she ran on the opposite direction. Something in him scared her, but still every cell in her body begged that she stayed.

After that encounter she learned that he was the actor that would be playing Alfred, The great. Only her biggest obsession. Alex tried to ask Y\N why she ran without an explanation, but she couldn’t explain. It was just her messed up head, she said.

‘He came back to me’.

A few days passed and Y\N had managed to avoid the actor as far as she could. Still, watching him work proved one of the hardest tasks she had to do. The camera assistant got 3 advertences from her superiors for almost ruining some scenes. His scenes. One of those times, she swore she saw Jennie nudge him and whisper something to Ferdia, and he just blushed. His eyes never left hers.

The next time it happened it came at night at a dream. She had those kind of dreams before but none had felt that real. It was a walk down a garden, or a ride in a horse, but not like this. She could still feel the sweet texture of the white and golden dress between her fingers, her long hair falling in her shoulders and the veil in her head.

“You look beautiful, my love. Not even the brightest star could make you justice” His voice filled her ears while his hands held her against his body. The room was filled with their presence and only the candles illuminated them. His eyes sparkled and the blue pulled and hypnotised her and she felt like falling. But if this was falling, she would do it gladly.

“I love you my king” She half moaned when his lips touched her neck.

“And I you my queen. I shall love until my dying day and beyond..”

Y\N woke up with a gasp and her hand had gone to her chest. Her heart beating at an alarming pace. She didn’t sleep that night.

The next morning she called Rita. An college friend that she remembered talking about reincarnation and stuff like that.. According to her, Y\N was having regressions. Something like reviving something she lived in a past life.

“Well, for all that seems to me Y\N, you and this colleague of yours were married. You should totally talk to him, he is your past life great love. He can be your soulmate! This is totally destiny.. Oh this is so cute, please tell me more!” Y\N rolled her eyes while Rita let out little giggles already planning their spring wedding

“I have to go Rita, thank you for the help, see yaa” Ignoring her old college friend’s protests, she hang up her phone. “Soulmate, my ass” A small knock on the door alarmed her and she jumped in her seat

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” Y\N opened her mouth but her voice kept stuck on her throat “Alex couldn’t make it so he asked me to make you company for lunch. I mean, you d-don’t have to go.. He just said you didn’t like to eat alone and I thought.. I mean,..”

While hearing him stutter Y\N couldn’t help but smile. He was just as nervous around her as she was around him. In that moment she wondered if he also had the strange feelings and dreams she had.

“I would love to have lunch with you Ferdia” She smiled and he accompanied her while extending his hand to help her stand.

Since that lunch the two became incredibly close, to a point where Alex had a best friend\ big brother talk with his colleague. Y\N rolled her eyes at that and repeated the ‘we’re just friends’ excuse that became like a second nature to them. They walked hand in hand, Y\N helped Ferdia with his lines, they messed around in set and Alex even captured a precious moment while they cuddled in one of the sofas in the common area, using the picture as a proof to his point. Jennie declared that her biggest ship was the two of them, making Ferdia’s cheeks rosy while he lowered his gaze. ‘We’re just friends, guys’

“What are we going to watch?” The actor asked coming from his kitchen with a bowl with popcorn in his hands

“Ghost” Y\N replied getting a handful of popcorn

“Oh c’mon Y\N, we need to upgrade our standards here. It’s the third movie night with a cheesy romantic movie”

“Hey!” She punched him in the shoulder and they laughed “I love that movie, ok?”

“I like it too, but you promised a scary movie night” He arched his eyebrow, letting go of the bowl, he tickled her

“OK, OK, OK WE CAN WATCH SOMETHING ELSEE”  Y\N moved trying to escape from his arms. Their laughter died slowly and she found herself under him, trapped. His blue eyes consuming her. “Do you believe in past lives?” Ferdia chuckled sitting back

“From all the things I prepared for to answer you, that was not one of them”

“Sorry, never mind.., let’s just choose another movie ok? How about Nightmare on Elm street?” She tried to get up from the sofa but Ferdia held her wrist

“Can we talk about us?” He seemed unsure, almost as if he was scared to speak

“Us?”

“Look, I know you see me just as a friend, but I..”

“I don’t “ Y\N whispered with her eyes on the ground

“W-what?” The actor closed the small distance between them. He sat closely at her side, his orbs fixed on her, his knees touching hers’.

“I-I don’t see you just as a friend. I never did, I guess.. I just never gave too much thought about it. We do work together after all.. Things could get complicated and..” She could feel her heart beating so fast that hurt her chest. But before she could finish her sentence, Ferdia moved. His hands turned her face to him and caressed her cheeks. Her words died and none came from him either. When the tip of his finger touched her lower lip dedicatedly, she closed her eyes. It felt so familiar. His touch calmed her in a way nothing ever did. She missed this her whole life.

‘You lived this. You loved him. You still love him’

His lips touched hers and what started as an innocent unsure kiss, became heated and passionate. It was like coming home after a long journey.  

“I love you my king” Y\N said when they rested their foreheads against each other after the kiss. Ferdia smiled giving her a small peck on her lips

“And I you my queen”

[veridium]

Ficlet: “Between Friends”

Inquisitor Olivia Sinclair

A snapshot memory from the Lady Inquisitor’s earlier life in the Ostwick Circle with her friends. Rated NSFW for discussion of sexual activities. 

A/N: this was originally intended to be a snapshot in this most recent chapter update of “Fire in Her Mouth,” but I ended up cutting it out. But I thought it would be nice to still share. Enjoy!

--

9:34 Dragon, Ostwick –

            Seven taps on the door. No less, and no more: that is how she knew to scoot her cold feet across the floor to unlock and welcome her visitors. It was the middle of the night during the guard change in the halls – the girls had timed and tracked it down to the minutes as most everyone their age did to outsmart the Templars. Nearly everything they did that was not studying, eating, cleaning, or sleeping required such discretion. The stringency and secrecy kept childish activities -- like sneaking away to bunk with your best friends to giggle and gossip -- exciting even in adulthood. At the age of 20 Olivia had yet to grow tired of hearing the timid taps on the old door, for she knew it meant Theia and Veronica huddled together on the other side. Simple, inexpensively made and shapeless linen night dresses and dark blankets pulled over their heads and shoulders making them look like beggar women coming in from the cold.

Olivia was always the headquartered hideaway: her dormmates were not as socially savvy as Theia’s and Veronica’s were. Or, at least, that is what she said when they asked why they all rolled onto their sides rather than rat them out. Olivia had bartered with them for years, exchanging what she could for their silence: doing their homework for them, providing her notes from lectures and assigned readings, and tutoring whoever needed it. Everyone trusted the Orlesian blonde because everyone had something to lose should they disavow her.

            Climbing into her cot, she and Theia sprawled out while Veronica set out her blanket on the floor. She would feel for any aches or creaks in the wood floor panels in case the Templars had picked up on their trail or their giggling.

            “Tell me everything,” Olivia squealed with delight, rubbing Theia on her shoulder.

            “Oh, come now, it is nothing,” Apprentice Trevelyan replied, hugging her knees to her chest and exposing her feet and ankles.

            “Do not give me that coy act! You were gone for an hour!”

            “Felt like an age, though.” Veronica interjected with a wry grin, sitting on one hip with a knee propped up. “I had to nearly flash the man to get him to keep distracted.”

            Theia choked back a laugh, pressing her fingers to her mouth. Olivia was lit up with wonder. Being a triad often meant two girls were complicit in trouble while the other was kept out for plausible deniability. Two girls’ antics was an anomaly – three was a conspiracy, and Templars already blamed Mages for being inherently duplicitous. Their growing older meant they were less and less able to blame youthful ignorance. Not that they were granted much to begin with in the first place. Faced with them both staring her down, Olivia with sweetness and Veronica with clever expectation, Theia caved.

            “…It was an hour, but she did not last more than 10 minutes.”

            Olivia blushed hot and throwing her hands up. Both her and Veronica went after her, patting and swatting at her. They were piss poor at stifling laughter and ragging. Theia nearly fell off the side of the beg, arms covering her face and top of her head.

            “Stop it, stop! before they catch us.”

            “I cannot believe you!” Olivia scolded, “you told me she was nothing but a girl to cheat off of for examinations.”

            Veronica rolled her eyes, reclining back on her hands when she was done hitting. “Typical.”

            “I thought she was, too! But…what can I say, I…liked her handwriting.”

            “Oh, you!” Olivia hit her again on the side of her thigh. “The poor girl must think you worship her like Andraste and you are just pilfering.”

            “Who said Andraste’s worshippers aren’t pilferers?” Veronica mused, “at least Theia knows where the true booty is.”

            Theia smirked heavy and kicked at Veronica with her foot hanging off the bed. Tucking her chin and appearing demure, she wasn’t convincing any of her friends. This was but another conquest in the long line of tall tales she could divulge at any given moment and have every peer in the room mesmerized with her mastery. The Circle was prohibiting of many things one would consider benign staples to pleasant life. But when enough young Mages saw a mutual benefit in covering for one another’s amorous escapades, especially those that risked no chance of pregnancy, there were ways of circumventing these truths. Theia’s interludes were the work of no less than three other Mage women in concerted effort to cover while her and her tryst had their time. It was a habitual gamble Olivia was seldom tempted to try.

            She sighed and rest her cheek on her bent knee. “What was it like?”

            “Cold.”

            “I mean it!”

            “So do I! The window was open, and she ripped half my gown off. I had her shivering, and she had me shivering. Only one of us was doing it of ecstasy.”

            Veronica shook her head. “When that happens, you stop complaining and make her thighs your ear muffs, you quitter.”

            Olivia raised a brow at her haughty suggestion, and it only went higher when she turned and saw Theia’s guilty expression as she looked down at her lap and bit her lip again.

            “Theia Sofia…” Olivia gasped low.

            “I said she had ripped half my gown off, I never said I did not return the favor…” Theia shimmied her shoulders with bravado. Her dress slid off one and hung loosely, barely tied at the chest as she laid back on the bed fully. She curled her legs up in the air playfully, needling Olivia in the side with her toes.

            “Come on, Olivia…”

            “How clever, together you made one naked woman,” Veronica once again one for the obvious but colorful.

            Olivia was unimpressed as she always tried to be. Something about not wanting to seem naïve, and dreading that it was already in plain sight for her friends to make fun of. Shirking Theia’s tickling toes away she grabbed her feather-stuffed, flat pillow to put against her stomach. She backed herself up against the wall and closed herself off from preeminently from the teasing, all the while Theia had her eyes on her, reading her bashful discomfort with those affectionately seasoned eyes and crooked smile. Theia was always so smooth, so easy on the eyes and the heart. Her stark appearance covered for a personality that was like velveteen: you always wanted to touch her, to be touched by her, whichever got her on your skin.

            “I am…not disagreeing or judging you,” Olivia answered at last, tilting her head. “I am just unaccustomed. By choice, to be sure.”

            “By choice, to be sure,” Veronica mocked Olivia’s Orlesian accent. A boorish caricature, but one that got the joke across. “I’m not about to sit through another hour of sifting through Madame Gem’s smallclothes looking for the key.” She ran her fingers through her hair and let the waves of dark brunette fall around her face and shoulders. Cool and acidic even at the age of eighteen.

            Theia turned her head towards Ro and furrowed her brow in disagreement. “Easy, now. Let her be.”

            “Everyone in the Circle knows to let Madame be,” Veronica countered. “Books and bottles, not bosoms and bottoms. That is what the sing behind her back. We ought to squash it.”

            Olivia inhaled and held her breath against the mention of the unrelenting teasing she had sustained for years since her first days in Ostwick. First, she had been the elitist Orlesian princess, prim and snobby. Then, she was a young hussy when people saw her advance expediently through her class ranks and apprenticeship duties, for surely no young Mage could do so without dealing something out. Then, when those rumors waned, she became a hybrid of the dichotomy: an irreproachable paragon, conservative but tempting. Coveted, but closeted. Having friends who were louder and more apt to answer slander with sucker punches helped.

            She shrugged and pulled her hair over one shoulder. “I don’t mind it. It is hardly consequential. I spend all my time in the library or in the formulas hall, anyway.”

            Theia tucked her chin as she gazed down the other end of the bed at her sweet, fair friend. “Are you certain, Gem?”

            “Yes. The last thing I want is theatrics.”

            “Pfft,” Veronica folded her arms and leaned against the small drawer nightstand accompanying her bed.

            Later that night conversation and shit-shooting gave into sleep. Veronica remained on the floor, ever vigilant for disturbances even when sleep neutralized her senses. She was the first to doze off, while Theia and Olivia shared space in bed and one pillow between both their heads. It was often just so: Veronica, or maybe Roslyn, sleeping soundly while the two of them talked story. There were times when Olivia looked forward to them more than the initial time spent with the entire group.

            “She kissed like a cat licks at cream, I swear,” Theia said as she curled her fingers to her chin. “I was so confused.”

            Olivia scrunched her nose in distaste. “Ugh, I hate the sound of that.”

            “Hate the sound of it? You did not have to endure it.”

            “So, there was nothing redeemable about it? Nothing at all?”

            Theia contorted her mouth to one side of her face as she looked away. Sincere pondering from someone so well-known for her sarcasm. “She has soft hands. And her voice. Her voice is nice…I suppose.”

            Olivia cuddled her head into her pillow. “She snorts when she laughs, I’ve heard her in the study wing.”

            “She does not!”

            “Yes, she does! Like a pig caught with its breeches down!”

            Theia smiled broadly, a breathy laugh harboring itself in the back of her throat. “Is there even such a thing?”

            Shrugging her shoulder, Olivia bit down on her finger nail. “Maybe so, since she sounds like it.”

            “Oh, hush up. You are more venomous than you play.”

            Theia was right. She was always right. Just because Olivia did not open her mouth and show off the perceptive skills she had been raised to sharpen, did not mean that her rhetorical weapons had dulled. Opinions were opinions, with or without expression. But the last thing the world needed was her cunning point of view, especially when Theia and Veronica were so much better at it than she was. Cool and edgy, while she was meek and underwhelming.

            After chuckling a bit, Theia’s smile fell a bit. “Olivia, you know what Veronica said…”

            “Yes? What of it?”

            Theia paused, caution in her eyes where there once was comfortability. “Are you…are you honestly so unaffected by what everyone says?”

            The question was a fair one. Acidic assumptions had tried again and again to condemn Olivia to little more than posh inconsequence. Yet she had prevailed, remaining true to her single-minded goals. Being so consistent would preclude either a dissonant ego or a proficient façade in the face of adversity.

            Olivia’s gaze went in search of any captivating sight while she pondered her response.

            “I…I am. They can think what they wish to. I am doing what I want to be doing.”

            “Yes, but are you not hungering for something? Anything…different?”

            “What do you mean?”

            Theia blinked, her eyes going from Olivia’s lips to her eyes back and forth, fast and fleeting. “Do you not want to be loved?”

            “I am loved, silly,” Olivia rebuked, “by you, and Veronica, and Roslyn…is love not known in ways outside of amorous affection?”

            The conversation paused. Theia looked like she was chewing on something mentally: the way her expression steadied and panicked at the same time, the way she held her clutched hand close to her chin, half-covering her pensive mouth. She clearly did not empathize with Olivia’s indifference. For someone as talented, beautiful, and beguiling as her, it was understandable why she would see what little slice of the world they had as her stomping ground. Even in a Circle tower. A few scant strands of her ice white hair fell a bit more into her face, unkept by her braid.

            “If you ever…” she stopped and blinked nervously. “Look, I…”

            Olivia watched her, nonplussed with her sudden shift in attitude. “What are you saying?”

            “If you…” Theia tried again but stopped herself. She broke her stare, looking down at their knees curled against each other.

            “Spit it out, Theia, before I fall asleep,” Olivia tucked her head against her flattened hands and closed her eyes. This was a time before the nightmares, a time when sleep was trusted. It was all the more decadent when shared with the women who had become her family, even when they wanted to talk her ear off while she drifted into slumber.

            “…If you ever wanted to…to see if you would…if you like women that way. I would…you know.”

            Olivia opened her eyes in a flash, looking as if Theia had chirped like a bird rather than speak.

            “You mean…!?”

            Theia looked like a deer caught by hunters in the field, realizing too late that she was in the path of an arrow. “I…I was just saying, if you desired it to be with someone you trusted. A friend.”

            Olivia scoffed. “Theia, dump out whatever water you have been drinking, because clearly it has you going mad.”

            “I am not mad, I was—”

            “Theia.”

            Olivia stared her down with assurance, even in her softness. She could never rebuke Theia caustically, even when her ideas were absurd. Deep down, Theia always had the best intentions. But she had stepped too far into the sanctum of Olivia’s life she had ensured would never be encroached on. The last thing she needed was to cultivate material for the Circle to further gossip about her. Once more, she had seen what could become of Theia’s lovers and flirtations: the way girls were objectified and demeaned, even when Theia stood up for them. She would not be one of them.

            Seeing the confidence in Olivia’s disposition, Theia backed down. “Forget I ever said anything,” she smirked sorely, “I just wanted to help.”

            “I know you did,” Olivia grinned as she reached and stroked Theia’s forearm. “But, trust me, I have all that I could ever need and want; people can talk all they want, I know they are simply jealous.”

            Theia’s embarrassed look softened then, her face relaxing into restful solace. She nuzzled into the limp pillow and placed her hand on the one Olivia had extended to her.

            “You are right. The measured one, as always,” Theia gave in, closing her eyes and settling in.

            Olivia watched her friend, her protective ally, in all her humble sincerity. Willing to offer herself and her body as if she could legitimize her and defend her in the face of slander. She was worth so much more than a resource.

            They never spoke like that after that night. One would hope it was due to respectful understanding, but like so many things between close friends, the lines were not that clean. Olivia would never know for sure whether it was trust, or the fact that several weeks later a black-haired and eloquent fellow Apprentice by the name of Odessa began her advances. Moves and maneuvers that, strangely, Olivia would not turn away. For some intuitive reason she could not explain, she knew Theia would be upset by it: which is why it took several more weeks and rumors passed through the grapevine for it to come to light at last. By that time, Odessa’s hands had been all over her, deep and direct as they were considerate. Something in the way Theia looked at her changed forever. Womanhood had come calling for the young Foxes.

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 54 - 57

I’m going on vacation for a couple of days so we’ll cover some extra chapters to make up for it.

The last leg of the trek the next morning was the longest yet, Manon thought.

At least we’re in Manon’s POV for now. They’re all still traveling through the marshes.

Dorian Havilliard’s tense tan face

Since when the hell was Dorito tan??

The others were swiftly pulling ahead, but Dorian remained still. Even had the audacity to grip [Manon’s] wrist—hard.

^ me when Dorito lays one slimy finger on my baby Manon

Dorito tells Manon he killed his father and Manon isn’t bothered by it, because y’know, she’s a witch and all. They finally stumble upon the temple that holds the Lock.

When Lysandra’s solitary, swift roar cleaved the air, Aelin murmured to Rowan, “What’s the catch? Where is the catch? It’s too easy.” Indeed, there was nothing and no one here.

Oh, there will be a catch or trap waiting, y’all are just fucking stupid and wouldn’t spot a trap if it punched you in the face.

“I keep a tally, you know, Princess. To remind myself to repay you the next time we’re alone for all the truly wonderful things you say.” [Aelin’s] toes curled in her soggy boots. But she patted [Rowan] on the shoulder, looking him over with absolute irreverence, saying as she walked ahead, “I certainly hope you make me beg for it.”

You two are goddamn disgusting and I hate you. Also, why does Rowboat call her princess when he’s constantly referred to her as his queen before? Consistency who?

Alien asks Manon what the name of her sword is.

“Wind-Cleaver.” Aelin clicked her tongue. “Good name.” “Yours?” “Goldryn.” A slash of iron teeth as they were bared in a half smile. “Not as good a name.”

lmfao roast her

Alien is about to tell Rowboat something, presumably important, but chickens out and says she’ll tell him later. That’s pretty much a guarantee that it’ll bite them in the ass. Anyways, they find a chest on the altar that presumably contains the Lock.

Manon leaned over the chest to study the lid but did not open it. Studying, Aelin realized, the countless Wyrdmarks carved into the stone. Nehemia had known how to use the marks. Had been taught them and was fluent enough in them to have wielded their power. Aelin had never asked how or why or when.

*sobs* these books were so much better when Nehemia was around......

Before they can do anything, Lorass sends them a warning signal that the Ilken are approaching.

Rowan’s throat bobbed, and [Aelin] knew he’d been taking in the horizon and surrounding lands not for any chance of winning the battle that was sure to come, but for any shot at getting her out. Even if the rest of them had to buy her time with their own lives.

I know it’s only logical to try and get the royalty out safely but I’m goddamn sick of everyone being so ready to lay down their lives for Alien, when she wouldn’t lift a single finger to help anyone who doesn’t kiss her ass. Alien is such a goddamn Mary Sue please free me from this hell.

Next chapter starts with Lorass and Elide making a run for it.

Lorcan sent out another flickering blast of his power. Not toward the winged army that raced not too far ahead, but farther—toward wherever Whitethorn and his bitch-queen might be in this festering place. If those ilken reached them long before Lorcan could arrive, that Wyrdkey the bitch carried would be as good as lost.

Oh my goddd, thank you for having someone’s motivation be anything besides hailing Alien as the best queen ever. Lorass, you’re at least interesting and you’re actually improving enough that I can stomach your POVs, plus you might kill Alien off and that’s a major bonus. You are hereby promoted back to Lorcan.

We immediately shift back to Alien and her group of jackasses making a run for it.

And Lorcan … somewhere out there. [Aelin]’d think on that later. At least Fenrys and Gavriel had remained, rather than charging off to fulfill Maeve’s kill order.

Of course they stayed to save your dumb ass rather than fulfill their orders. Of fucking course. Alien suggests she uses the Wyrdkey again and Rowboat gets all pissy, which I kinda understand because the last time Alien used the Wyrdkey she killed a bunch of innocent people, destroyed part of an island, and was possessed by a goddess. She really is fucking stupid.

Aedion let out a low, bitter laugh. “You wanted to send a message to our enemies about your power, Aelin.” (...) Aedion jerked his chin toward the army approaching. “It seems Erawan sent his answer.”

IMPOSSIBLE, ALIEN MAKES A BAD DECISION AND ASSDION IS CALLING HER OUT ON IT??? I know Rowboat is gonna shoot him down but holy shit, Assdion is thinking independently for once in his life! Maybe he’ll be promoted back to Aedion.

Aelin hissed, “You blame me for this?” Aedion’s eyes darkened. “We should have stayed in the North.” “I had no choice, I’ll have you remember.” “You did,” Aedion breathed, none of the others, not even Rowan, stepping in. “You’ve had a choice all along, and you opted to flash your magic around.”

FINISH HER

I am fucking living for this Alien roast tbh, I’d read a whole book of the characters taking shots at her dumb vain ass. That's right Alien, you thought you could kill innocent people for no reason other than to show off and get away with it but you were WRONG BITCH!!! WRONG!!!!!!!

Aedion’s lip curled off his teeth. “This isn’t a game. This is war, and you pushed and pushed Erawan to show his hand. You refused to run your schemes by us first, to let us weigh in, when we have fought wars—”

I LOVE THIS SONG!! I know Assdion has done shit in the past but oh my god, I am living for this redemption!!! Has SJM become self aware and is redeeming her characters last minute??? Even Rowboat thinks her plan is fucking stupid!

Only [Rowan’s] anger was directed at [Aelin]—perhaps more livid than she’d seen him since Mistward.

This is the best chapter no competition, I am loving this Alien roast. I know it probably won’t last but I am crying, finally we’re acknowledging that Alien’s plans are selfish and stupid.

But [Rowan’s] pine-green eyes were bright—almost soft—as he said, “Remember who you are. Every step of the way down, and every step of the way back. Remember who you are. And that you’re mine.”

Now we’re ripping off the Lion King? I mean, I know it’s a semi generic quote but given SJM’s past of ripping off other novels, I wouldn’t be surprised.

The Queen of Flame and Shadow, the Heir of Fire, Aelin of the Wildfire, Fireheart …

I feel like at this point, SJM, you should’ve realized you’ve given Alien waaaaay too many titles, none of which she’s done anything to deserve or earn. Can you say, Mary Sue?

Chapter ends with Alien firing out a huge fire tornado out of her ass that is most certainly going to drain up all of her magic. Gg dumbass, you’re gonna be useless for a few days after this. Fingers crossed that this bites her in the ass afterwards.

Lorcan knew they were still too slow, warning signal or not.

Next chapter opens with Elide and Lorcan again. Lorcan has given her Maeve’s ring to protect her, which is honestly really sweet. Maybe I’ll ship them. Maybe.

Elide staggered one step—one step toward Aelin, a small noise coming out of her.

No please SJM I’m begging you, don’t make Elide into a mindless Alien worshiper like Assdion... please SJM I’m begging.......

“What is … ,” Elide breathed, but Lorcan lunged for her, hurling them to the ground, covering her body with his. He threw a shield over them, plummeting hard and fast into his magic, the drop nearly uncontrolled.

Lorcan puts the safety of Elide over his own need for revenge against Alien. I’ve gripped about his character development before, but it’s probably the only real character arc in this entire novel, so I’ll take it.

There’s a switch to Assdion’s POV, but it lasts for like half a page before it returns to Lorcan. SJM really just wants to splooge over how uhmazing Alien is through Assdion. Gag.

Lorcan watched in silence as Rowan slid a hand over her waist, the other cupping the side of her face, and kissed his queen. Embers stirred her unbound hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed close. A golden crown of flame flickered to life atop Rowan’s head—the twin to the one Lorcan had seen burning that day at Mistward.

Ewwww at least Lorcan is only saying what he’s seeing and not splooging over the shitty Ratlin ship.

Ash continued to fall, clumping on Elide’s silky night-dark hair. [Lorcan] gently picked out a bit, then put a shield over her to keep it from landing on her again.

P-pure...

Anyways Lorcan and Elide decide to stroll on over to say hello to the group of jackasses. Weird, since Elide just pointed Lorcan isn’t on friendly terms with Alien, but eh, maybe he knows they won’t prioritize attacking him due to the circumstances-

Slowly, Lorcan closed in on his prey, too focused on the fire-breathing bitch to notice that Fenrys and Gavriel had vanished from their positions in the reeds.

Oh my god, I...I actually feel... panic! Like, I actually do care about Elide and Lorcan a little bit now? I don’t want them to be hurt? What the fuck, how did you manage this, SJM?

Well, Chapter 57 picks right back up with Elide’s POV.

Elide had never been more aware of her limp. Of her dirty clothes; of her long, unshaped hair; of her small body and lack of any discernible gifts.

Christ I get it SJM, no one is even worthy of getting to lick Alien’s boots, I get it, stop rubbing it in my face.

[Lorcan] said coolly, “It would seem our bargain with each other is about to end anyway. I’ll be sure to explain the terms, don’t worry. I’d hate for them to think you were slumming it with me.”

Aww, Lorcan is putting her needs above his own......

Gav and Fenrys, understandably, attack Lorcan in furry wolf/lion form. Elide pushes him out of the way and one of them bites her arm.

[Lorcan] growled to the lion and the wolf, his shield a swirling, obsidian wind around them, “You’re dead. You’re both dead—”

I’m a sucker for that “Character A doesn’t know how much Character B cares about them until they’re injured and B loses their mind” trope, so I admit I’m warming up to them a tiny bit more.

Lorcan’s onyx eyes were unreadable as he scanned [Elide’s] face. And then he said quietly, “I wanted to go to Perranth with you.” Lorcan dropped the shield.

Damn.. can’t believe SJM’s writing is improving a tiny bit towards the end... it’s rather late, but not completely unwelcomed.

Gav offers to heal Elide while Fenrys and Lorcan wave their dicks around some more at each other. Can’t believe I’m grateful for Rowboat’s presence for once, but he comes to put a stop to the Alpha Male competition. Alien also shows up so SJM can splooge about her via Elide’s POV.

Aelin strode closer, eyes never leaving Elide’s face. Young—she felt so young compared to the woman who approached.

Ain’t they like, the same age, though?

And Elide sobbed as Manon Blackbeak emerged, smiling faintly.

PURE AND WHOLESOME................I hope we get more Elide/Manon interactions.

Fenrys feels legitimately sorry for injuring Elide, and I’m inclined to believe him. She did push Lorcan out of the way of a bite that was intended for him.

“I’m here,” Elide said as Aelin fixed those unnervingly vivid eyes on her, “because of Kaltain Rompier.”

So apparently Kaltain gave Elide the stone because she owed Alien for... giving her a warm cloak. What the fuck? Alien slutshamed Kaltain, insulted her, didn’t bother to free her from prison, did I mentioned she slutshamed her? And Kaltain wants to repay a debt for Alien doing the bare minimum? Fuck outta here with that nonsense.

“M-majesty,” [Elide] stammered, inclining her head. She should really get up. Really stop lying on the ground like a worm. But the cloth and stone still lay in her hand.

Elide, baby, it’s okay. None of these people are worth the dirt on the bottom of your shoe.

[Lorcan] didn’t let go of Elide’s arm, and she tried not to lean into his warmth. Tried not to make it seem like she hadn’t just met her queen, her friend, her court, and … somehow now found Lorcan to be the safest of them all.

Honestly fam, don’t blame you. These people are batshit insane.

“We like to call it ‘territorial male nonsense,’” Aelin confided. “Or ‘territorial Fae bastard’ works just as nicely.” The Fae Prince coughed pointedly behind her.

Unghhh this shit again. We’re almost done, my dudes, we’re almost done....

Lorcan had been willing to die for Elide. Had been willing to put aside his quest for Maeve in order for Elide to live. And had then acted territorial enough to make Rowan wonder if he seemed so ridiculous around Aelin all the time.

How can I hold all this self awareness??? Like what the fuck was SJM high writing this book but sobered up for these final few chapters???

“Aelin can decide what to tell you.” “Such a good dog.” Rowan gave him a lazy smile but refrained from commenting on the delicate, dark-haired young woman who now held Lorcan’s own leash.

Holy fucking shit, SJM really did want these guys to be werewolves.

[imagine-your-way-out]

#9.2 | Hair Down, Man Down | Lafayette x Reader

A/N: I finally finished the roadblock! I'm not so back on track with writing but at least I write again, right? I'm really sorry for making you guys wait.. Hopefully I can finish the part three to this soon. I'm 30% done with it. Warnings: Jackass and creepy Jefferson -—-—- Lafayette wanted to sucker punch himself in the gut. Way to draw out suspicion, he thought sarcastically. The secret he guarded for years was being spilled out. And he, himself, was the cause of it. What. An. Idiot. He needed to keep it a secret. He didn't want to risk anything. So, he asked (more like begged) you to delete the picture. When you had asked why, it sent him into a frenzy. He rambled into almost admitting the truth but thankfully, he caught himself. He tried to let it go. Forget and move on. He calmed himself considerably after a while, more so when you deleted, albeit reluctantly, the picture. Everything was going to be fine now, right? Oh, how wrong he was. - It was days after the accident neither of you wanted to talk about. You brought it up once the day after but Lafayette had just brushed you off. He gave you a clear message he didn't want to talk about it. All evidence that anything had ever happened was the picture. You never did delete that picture. The picture was still saved in your phone, recovered from the recently deleted which Lafayette conveniently forgot. You stared at it, scrutinizing every detail. Lafayette never put his hair down. You always wondered why; it was a good look for him. Currently, you were waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up to head to Alexander and John's apartment to have a movie marathon. Your last class just ended and you were patiently waiting in the college library. Someone suddenly cleared their throat in front of you and you looked up from your phone. Lafayette, wearing a horrendous magenta outfit, towered over you with mischevious eyes and surprisingly with his hair down. You immediately put your phone faced down to not let him see the recovered picture. You grinned and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "So, baby, you finally realized that you also look good with your hair down," you teased. Lafayette stiffened at your touch, not expecting the contact. "What—" "But honestly, where did you get that abhorrent coat? Did Hercules put you up with that? Did he say that that was an 'in' style? Don't listen to him, love, he's just messing with you." You babbled on continuously as you shovelled your books back into your bag. When you stood, Lafayette was still sitting and gaping at you like a fish. "Lafayette?" You look at him worriedly. "Is there something wrong?" When you called him by his name, he was pulled back to reality yet confusion clouded his eyes. "Lafayette?" He echoed slowly. You stared at him weirdly, contemplating on what was peculiar about the situation. A gut feeling told you something was wrong. Then you realized that there were two things you noticed that were different about Lafayette: One, his voice was deeper, richer and velvety. It was different from the usual sweet and soft yet firm tone you always hear. Two, his presence was more haughty and cold. It was suffocating. This was not Lafayette. "I-I'm sorry. I must have mistaken you for someone else," you stuttered, taking a step back. The Lafayette doppelganger immediately gripped your arm to keep you in your place. The action made you tense up and send your brain into panic mode. "Someone else, eh? Certainly, no one else would have the same handsome face as me," he drawled, closing in on your face. His southern accent became apparent and you were more convinced that this was a totally different person. "Please, let go of me." Your voice struggled to keep stable. "And everything was an honest mistake. So, if you will." The hand he was holding your arm with slackened for a miniscule of a second and you used that opportunity to shake yourself out of his grip. You walked away from him, not taking a second glance at the man. But before you reached the library doors, the unpleasantly familiar, strong grip caught you again. You angrily faced him and stared up at him defiantly. "You are too feisty, darlin'," he chuckled. "To apologize for today's encounter, how about I treat you for coffee?" "No thanks," you say quickly, ready to turn back. The mysterious man grabbed you again, a little harsher this time. "Rejecting someone's offer is quite impolite. Did your mother taught you that?" His voice was dangerously low and intimidating. You made an effort not to shrink at his tone. "Yes, but I was also warned not to entertain suspicious men." Your voice didn't waver. "Now, move," you snapped. For more emphasis, you elbowed his ribs as you stomped away from the library. You'll just have to find Lafayette yourself. Outside the library, you inhaled the fresh air. Goodness, that encounter gave you a headdache. You turned to look at the library doors and breathed a sigh of relief that the man didn't follow you out. That man. He certainly did look a good deal like Lafayette. Though personality-wise, they didn't match. Your boyfriend was better in that department. Speaking of which, your phone rang and the caller ID was Lafayette. "Hey," you answered the call. "Hello, mon ange. I will be a bit behind schedule because a professor wants to speak to me. Is it okay if you go with Herc to Alex's?" Lafayette said on the other line. "Yeah, that's fine," you reply. You hear him sigh in relief. "I'm sorry for making you wait, mon ange. I'll make it up for coffee later." "It's okay, darling," you assured. At the mention of coffee, you remember something. "Hey, love, I just had the weirdest encounter," you said. "What is it, mon amour? Was there another guy that asked you for a dollar for a hug?" he chuckled. The sound made your lips quirk up. He never failed to make you smile at any circumstance. "Well, no." You fidget slightly, adjusting your grip on your phone. "There was this guy and he kinda looked like you." "Looked... Like me?" "Not kinda, actually. He practically was a carbon copy of you. I mistook him for you; I even kissed him on the cheek! But, I didn't mean it, love. I'm so sorry—" "Wait, you met a guy—" Lafayette's tone became panicky. "I didn't know it wasn't you! I'm sorry I kissed him, but I swear, it means nothing. Nothing," you assured him. "I don't care about the kiss!" The shrill tone of your boyfriend made you snap your mouth shut. On the other side of the line, you could hear him take deep, ragged breaths. "Love?" you asked tentatively. "Are you alright?" A few seconds of silence were heard before he replied. "I'm fine," he said. "Don't worry about me." He laughed awkwardly. Then he hung up. You stared at your phone in disbelief. What in tarnation just happened?

[yoinkmyheart]

need ur luv

pairing: peter parker x reader word count: 1.6k warnings: angst lol, i don’t think there’s any sm:h spoilers??, prolly swearing but who knows w me. summary: based on ‘need ur luv’ by charlie xcx. reader has been in love with peter parker for as long as she can remember but peter falls in love with a different girl.

a/n: I’m still working on hidden identities dw, i just feel angsty so this happened. not really any dialogue in the beginning but wait around fam. feel free to listen to the song while reading but you don’t have to!

I need your love I need it even when it hurts me

It started when you and Peter were no younger than 8-years old when you moved in next door to the young boy. The first time you saw him, his hair was disheveled and he hid behind his Aunt May.

Even then, you had liked him.

But now? You loved him

The brown eyed, dorky, and a little socially awkward boy had caught your heart and he had it in his grasp too tight for you to slip it out again. His selfless, kind heart and his pure excitement for everything in the world. 

You were the first person he told about his alter-ego, Spiderman. You’d quickly become his nurse, even late into the night. He’d crawl into your room, you’d patch him up and he’d sneak into his room, a window on the right from yours.

It hurt you so much when he’d stumble into your room, banged up, bruised and cut in several places. When you pointed out how much you hated seeing him like this, he’d make an off-handed remark about how, “you should see the other guy.”

Next, Ned found out. It was eventual. The three of you were inseparable. Although, Ned found out by accident. Which gave you hope that Peter could feel the same way towards you. 

After all, he had willingly trusted you with his secret. That had to count for something. Right?

Except. Maybe, it didn’t after all.

Soon after the Liz incident (which had first broke your heart, but watched painfully), Peter had become closer and closer with Michelle Jones. Suddenly, you weren’t Peter’s only best girl friend. 

Which scared you.

I won’t give up I won’t give up, so come and get me  

Soon, Peter’s late night visits to your room were becoming less and less frequent. At first, you thought it was because he finally realized how dangerous being Spiderman was and laid low.

But, you knew he hadn’t because videos of him on YouTube were still steadily being added. Instead, you’d found out through Ned that Peter was going out of his way to go to Michelle after every night of crime-fighting instead of you.

Which broke you in half.

Every lunch time, you realized how closer Michelle and Peter got and that broke you into fours. They would sit next to each other. They would share looks. Even Ned had noticed their increasing closeness.

Boy, you really messed around Put me six feet underground

The following days had been horrible for you. With how much more Peter was occupying your thoughts, you’d been distracted at school and getting less sleep. You couldn’t believe that you were letting a boy distract you.

Envy, jealousy and hurt was taking up every part of you.

Soon, days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into a month. A month of wallowing around, pretending to be fine which actually went fine. You felt pathetic that you’d spent a month, wallowing.

It made you feel even more pathetic when Ned and Peter actually caught on that something was going on. Peter had sat down in front of you, Ned beside you, popping their trays on their table.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?” Ned asked, flashing you a worried smile. 

“Nothing. I’m fine,” You’d looked up at him, and mustered up a small smile.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been so quiet for the past month. The last time you were this quiet Y/N, you had to give away your puppy because our building didn’t allow pets,” Peter said, he had given you a similarly worried smile. 

You waved him off, giving him a bigger smile and a thumbs up before following it up with, “It’s fine! School’s just getting the best of me,”

Some part of you had hoped that they would push it, that they wouldn’t be convinced so you could, maybe, finally tell Peter. But, they had both been convinced and already moved on to the next subject.

“Okay, if you say so. Uh, so… Y/N, how do you feel about Michelle?” He looked towards the front doors, where Michelle was walking from slowly as she had her head in a book.

You felt your heart tighten instantly at this.

Always kick me when I’m down But I’m still driving through your town

“Yeah, she’s great! She’s really nice…” You mumbled, avoiding their gazes, as you poked and prodded the food on your plate. Your throat felt blocked so you chugged water from your water bottle.

“I’m thinking of, uh- asking her to be my girlfriend tonight.”  

You dropped your spoon. You could barely hear Ned’s words of encouragement to Peter from just beside you. Nodding vaguely to pretend your agreement. 

He was thinking of asking her to be his. So he they could be together. As more than friends.

You didn’t know when but when you looked up, Michelle was sitting next to Peter. Her now designated spot. Peter flashed her a smile and they were talking to each other.

“So. Will you come?” Peter asked you, finally shaking you of your stunned phase. You must’ve looked confused because Peter playfully rolled his eyes with you.

“To the movies with us? I can pick you up and we can go together if you like?” Peter finished. You nodded, putting on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. They didn’t realize though.

Try to fake it, I can’t take it

That night, you wore a casual black dress. You sat on your couch, waiting for Peter’s knock. It astounded you that although you had done this a million times, you’d never felt so upset about the prospect of him finally walking through the door.

Because it meant that next time you’d walk in then Peter might be somebody else’s. You realized then and there that you wouldn’t let him get away. You’d tell him. Tonight. This time you weren’t going to chicken out.

Peter’s knock finally came and the sound resonated with your soul. He walked in, dressed nicely, with a button up flannel and jeans. He looked positively excited. His eyes sparkled.

You stood up to meet him, looking down.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

“Peter you can’t do this,” You looked up at him. Dead serious. His smile was fading and the sparkle disappearing in his eyes. Now he looked confused.

“What? Why?” Peter asked, his eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted. He turned and closed the door behind him. Obviously realizing that this was going to be a private conversation.

At the end of this conversation, Peter and you would never be the same way away again. For better or for worst.

“You can’t ask Michelle to be your girlfriend,” You looked up, your eyes already going glossier. He remained silent.

“It’ll break me, Peter. I can’t watch you fall in love with her. I can’t watch your eyes sparkle when you talk about her or talk to her. I can’t bear hearing that you stopped coming to me for help for her. I can’t watch you in detention, enjoying it, with her when you once would be terrified of a detention.” Tears were starting to flow down your cheeks steadily but you kept your eye contact with him, but you weren’t finished yet.

“I can’t hear the excitement in your voice when you talk about her. Or when you have plans with her. I can’t imagine you taking her out on cheesy dates. Or you kissing her upside down really cliche like in your spiderman costume. Or you running to her side to save her as Spiderman.” You continued. Peter clenched his jaw.

“W-what do you mean Y/N?”

Boy you trapped my heart

“God, Peter! I love you!” You practically shouted. Frustrated. 

“I-”  You looked at him hopefully, hoping that he would say it back.

“I can’t say I feel the same way Y/N,” 

I can’t shake it, ‘bout to break into a hundred million parts

Your heart shattered. You felt as if you had just been sucker-punched in the gut. You knew he didn’t feel the same way, but you clung onto the hope for so long that you tricked yourself into believing it before. More and more tears rolled down your cheeks, your vision now blurred.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I really am,” You heard him say. He moved forward to hug you but just as he stepped forward, you stepped backwards. Balling your fists up by your sides, you looked down avoiding his eyes.

His eyes, you knew, that would be filled with pity. He might not have loved you the same way but he still loved you as a sister and it broke him that it was him that did this.

“Just go Pete,” You said so quietly, he might’ve missed it. He didn’t though.

“Y/N-” He stopped when you met his eyes. Your eyes filled with so much tears, and sadness. He had never seen you so upset that it stunned him to silent and he felt his own eyes gloss.

“Go Pete. Please, I beg you don’t make this any worst than it already is,” You turned away, walking towards your room. The front door shut, meaning Peter had left.

I need your love. I don’t want it.

You lay on your bed, hugging yourself into a ball and let the tears flow even free-er. You had lay your heart out in the open and it was shredded.

I need it even when it hurts me.  You really hurt me, baby.

The one person who had made you so happy in the 7 years you knew him, was suddenly the cause of the roaring pain in your heart. The unceasing and relentless pain.

I won’t give up Now, I’m giving up

But you didn’t care. He could cause you pain over and over again but as long as he was still your friend.

I won’t give up, so come and get me Don’t you come and get me, baby.

But then, it hit you. Your chest felt tight. You’d just lost your best friend and first love. You’d lost Peter.

i don’t know how to feel LMAO! this feels really sad to me buttttttt. anywho! thanks for reading! feedback is appreciated and encouraged. xo

tags: @lunastarwatcher ♡

[whoareurl]

Causing Chaos in Pyjamas - 00Q (1/9)

basically sen and galaxy enabled my attention whole ways so here is the beginning of my sick!Q fic which i’ll be crossposting from the forum from now on. but slowly so i don’t overwhelm ur dash omg.

-

Being Quartermaster to 007 was not an easy job at the best of times and this was certainly not the best of times. Today marked the first time Q had ever considered himself sick enough to stay home from work. With a fever above 102 degrees and a voice which begged for rest, Q had sent an encrypted email directly to M and had anxiously awaited the reply which came in the form of Moneypenny checking in to make sure he was, indeed, as ill as he had claimed to be. Satisfied with what she found, Moneypenny had left him to suffer.

Now, curled up in bed and swaddled in every blanket he owned, Q quietly wished for death to take him quickly. His temperature yoyo-ed between sweltering and shivering every few minutes and his sinuses ached with the pressure of his congestion. Honestly, though he prided himself on his vast vocabulary, there was only one word for how Q felt at that moment: shit.

Q’s least favourite thing about this wretched cold by far was the sneezing. He didn’t think he’d mind so much if they just behaved in the way sneezes normally do but these were horrendously stubborn and required a great deal of itchy impatience before they would expel themselves with a force which practically bent Q’s thin body in half (the way it was supposed to bend, of course - ie. forwards from the waist - as anything else would have been cause for concern). Though, he thought as his lungs hacked painfully in his chest, the coughing was probably second on the list of Q’s Least Favourite Cold Symptoms.

“Hhh...eHh…Oh for goodness sahhh…”

Grumbling quietly to himself, Q let out his breath and sniffled miserably, rubbing at his angry nose with his handkerchief. Q had always been partial to handkerchiefs. Though unsanitary, they reminded him of period dramas and Q, though he’d never admit it, was a sucker for period dramas.

Currently, he was watching - or trying to watch; curse this itch! - the 1995 BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice starring the ever beautiful Colin Firth. Oh, the things he would do to that man…

Q’s attention was drawn by a soft meow from beside him just in time to see his black and grey patched cat hop up onto the bed beside him. With a sigh, he reached out to run his hand over C-Sharp’s back, eliciting a small purr of pleasure. C-Sharp moved gracefully up his chest until she could rub the top of her head beneath Q’s chin. He smiled.

“Well,” he muttered hoarsely, running his hand over her back again and using his free hand to rub impatiently at his nose. “I’m glad at least one of us is functional.”

As if replying, C-Sharp gave another meow and hopped onto the pillow beside Q’s head, catching his nose with her tail as she did so. Now, Q certainly wasn’t allergic to cats but his poor nose was already unbearably sensitive and the soft touch was all he needed to tip him over the edge.

“Ehh! Hehtishhoo! Tish! Tsh! Tsshhu! Huh...hhtISHooo!”

Q gave his nose a rough blow into his handkerchief, collapsing back against the pillows, chest heaving with exhaustion. C-Sharp, unfazed by his fit, climbed back into his lap again. He sniffed thickly.

“Thanks,” he said, the congestion blatantly obvious in his voice now. He sighed, triggering a single cough with the threat of more burning in his chest. Today was definitely not a good day.

A sharp knock at the door startled Q from his hazy thoughts. Sleepily, he pushed C-Sharp off to the side and felt around for the remote, retrieving it from a disappearing into a pile of blanket folds, and put the television on pause before stumbling through the living room to the front door. It took his fumbling hands a moment to undo the latch and his brain was so muddled that he didn’t even think to glance at the security monitor on the table next to him before he opened it to reveal-

“Hello Q,” said Bond, flashing a winning smile before swanning into Q’s flat like he lived there.

It took the fevered Quartermaster a good few seconds to catch up. Regaining himself, he shut the door and turned to find Bond, hands in pockets with a smug smile on his face, eyebrows raised at the sight of Q’s red, kitten-covered pyjamas.

“007,” he said with all the dignity he could muster, well aware that his n’s sounded much more like d’s than usual. “What brings you here at-” he glanced at the clock. “Goodness, is it only 11am?”

Given that Q felt as though he’d been sick for at least a week now, he was quite disappointed to find out that he’d only been awake for six hours. Ignoring Q’s dismay, Bond cocked a half smile in his direction.

“I need your help,” he said and Q groaned internally.

“And here I was hoping you were here to wish me well.”

“It’s a cold, Q, you’re hardly dying,” Bond said with an air of exasperation about him. Q rolled his eyes - regretting it when it hurt - and thought about all the ways he could kill Bond to calm himself down. He could feel Bond’s eyes sliding up and down his body and might have flushed from the attention had he not been too exhausted to care about the blanket draped around his shoulders or the sodden handkerchief clutched tight in his other hand or his bare feet on the cold wooden floor.

He sighed. “What do you need?”

“Remember when you told me you could do more damage on your laptop sitting in your pyjamas before your first cup of Earl Grey than I could do in a year in the field?” Bond asked, picking up a pen from Q’s coffee table and examining it with interest. Q thought about telling him it exploded just for the fun of it.

“I recall.”

Bond smirked, looking Q up and down. “Were these the pyjamas you were talking about?”

Q shot him a withering look but he didn’t manage to hold the glare for very long because the ever-present tickle swelled in his nose and he brought up his handkerchief, holding it a few inches from his face while his breath hitched. His eyes watered, forcing themselves shut in response to his twitching nose. He took a deep breath. He almost had it…

“Bless you,” said Bond, just as the tension left Q’s body and the itch lessened until it was back to being just slightly too annoying to ignore.

Shooting a teary glare at Bond, Q sniffed and asked again, “What do you need?”

Bond grew serious, tucking he pen back into the holder - upside down! - and beginning to pace.

“There’s a drug cartel operating in northern Austria. They’ve been active for a while. I’ve tracked them down a few times but now we don’t have time for games.”

Q frowned. “Hostages?”

Bond nodded. “Refugees fleeing Syria following the crisis.”

Q closed his eyes. Hell. “How m-”

“200, probably more,” Bond cut in and something in his voice told Q he was much more disgusted than he let on. “Mostly women and children. Branded. Some already dead.”

Q swallowed thickly, the pressure building in his head again. Using refugees for free labour. It was times like this he was reminded why he got into the secret intelligence business and, as much as it would please him immensely to punch Bond hard in the face, he had to admit that his heart was in the right place. If Bond had a heart, of course. Q still had his money on Bond being an anomaly of science. Certainly, he’d survived several scrapes that should have killed him already - lacking a vital organ didn’t seem out of the question.

Feeling quite unable to stand anymore, Q lowered himself onto the sofa, leaving Bond to pace. Clearly, Bond had a plan or he’d never have come to Q in the first place. Though why on earth he hadn’t gone to M for assistance was a mystery to- oh.

“007,” Q asked weakly. “I’ve been absent for exactly six hours. Pray tell how you managed to get back onto M’s hitlist in that time.”

“Another story for another time, Q,” said Bond cockily and Q didn’t ask again. Truth be told, all this ‘being attentive’ nonsense was starting to make him a little dizzy.

Eyes closed and head resting against the back of the sofa, Q said wearily, “I’ll ask again. What do you need?”

Bond’s silence prompted Q to crack open one eye curiously and, for a moment, Bond looked at him with something like concern but it was gone before Q had a chance to analyse it.

“I need you to do some damage with that laptop,” he said and then smirked. “And look. You’re already in your pyjamas.”

Returning to his list of ways to murder Bond and hide the body, Q shakily stood, leaving his blanket behind, and went back to his bedroom to fetch his laptop. He had intended to bring it back to the living room but he turned to find Bond standing in his bedroom doorway, surveying the mess with barely disguised glee. Q could already tell he was never going to live this down. For someone so pedantic about the cleanliness of his office, he was currently living amid disorganised piles of books and papers.

Clearing his throat for Bond’s attention, he sat back down in his blanket structure (which could easily be classified a small fort) and fired up his laptop. Bond, somewhat awkwardly due to the obstacles, took to pacing Q’s small bedroom in a way which Q might have found infuriating had he had the energy.

After moments, Q turned the screen to show Bond the mugshot of a man with dark skin and a shaved head though his sideburns were still intact. He had a scar running past his nose, barely skimming the corner of his left eye. Q sniffed again, lifting the handkerchief to his nose as he spoke.

“The leader of the ring. I believe you’ve met?”

Bond frowned. “Indeed.”

“Couldn’t find his real name online. Whoever erased him from the internet certainly was thor-uhh’HEHchoo!” Q clamped his handkerchief over his nose, sighing in relief when the tickle eased somewhat. “Excuse me,” he said, just as Bond said, “Gesundheit.”

What had he been talking about? Goodness, this fever was making him slow. Oh. Of course.

“Known simply as B.D.” He finished, forcing the last two letters out before turning away to cough.

“Can you trace him?” Bond asked, earning a pointed look from Q which clearly said do you think I’m an idiot? Raising his arms in mock surrender, Bond turned away. “Just make it quick.”

Q sighed as he plugged the algorithm into his system, frowning when the screen went suddenly black. What? It was only when the red skull popped up in the middle of his screen that he realised he’d been hacked.

“Damn it!” He yelled, the strain tearing at his poor throat. With what little strength his anger brought him, he closed his laptop sharply and pitched forward, handkerchief forgotten.

“EhhtISHHoo! Ishh’hoo!”

“Q?” Bond’s voice demanded attention but Q couldn’t give it to him. He was too busy with-

“hhEHHISHOO!”

“Bless you,” Bond said but Q didn’t have his wits about him enough to appreciate that Bond had switched from his usual Gesundheit to a softer, gentler sound. When he glanced up, Bond was holding out a tissue which Q took gratefully and gave his nose a harsh blow, coughing slightly afterwards. He discarded the tissue in the wastepaper bin.

Bond cautiously crouched next to the bed, forcing Q to meet his eye. “What is it?”

“I- It’s my fault,” Q muttered eventually, feeling drained and defeated. “Someone hacked my system. I- I didn’t see it coming.”

Bond frowned. He looked for a moment like he wanted to say something - perhaps something comforting - but he didn’t. He just frowned and frowned until Q pushed himself shakily to his feet and stumbled back out into the living room. He righted the pen Bond had disturbed earlier and sighed, shivering in just his pyjamas.

“Did they get anything?”

Bond’s voice sounded far away but Q did his best to process it. Did who get anything? From where?

“Um, they- oh,” he began, which was really how he knew he was horribly ill. Q wasn’t one to muddle his words. “I can’t be sure.”

“Worst case scenario?” Bond asked, voice level.

Q sighed. “Locations.”

Bond swore quietly under his breath. “What are the chances?”

“I-” Q started, but stopped when his words caught in his throat.

“Tell me, Q!” Bond said impatiently. “What are the chances they got that information decrypted?”

Q closed his eyes, thinking. “Less than 1%,” he said, suddenly feeling very lightheaded. “If they have that information, they’ll have traced my address first. It’s part of the decryption. It’s tied to...hh...oh snf it’s t-tied to th-the GP-ehh-ehh’TSSHoo! the GPS.”

Q felt Bond’s hand on his arm, steadying him. He nodded his thanks and sat on the arm of the sofa.

“They have your address?” Bond said slowly.

“Possibly,” Q said, sounding much calmer than he felt. “We’ll know soon enough.”

Bond sprang into action then, pushing Q towards the door before he stopped, holding the very confused Quartermaster by the wrist.

“The rest of your equipment,” Bond said. “What have you got here?”

“Not much,” Q sniffled. “The computer systems will have been wiped when they detected the hack. Hard drive has backups.”

Bond was gone in an instant and Q found himself doubled over again, clutching his chest and coughing as he struggled to force air in and out of his lungs. He looked around blearily for his handkerchief but he honestly couldn’t remember when he’d last seen it. Was the room spinning or was he just dizzy? Forgetting completely about the possible impending danger, or perhaps just desperate to rest, Q started towards his bedroom only to be whirled around by Bond and dragged towards the door.

“Where-”

“Wait,” Bond interrupted, leaving Q shivering on the landing while he darted back inside, emerging with the blanket Q had brought to the door with him. Without wasting a moment - not even to explain - he wrapped it around Q’s shoulders and pushed him towards the staircase. “Come on,” he said briskly.

They had navigated only two flights when they heard a crash from above. Q stumbled over the last few steps and let Bond do the work as he was dragged towards the car, barely feeling the cold and damp of the ground outside in his hazy panic. The car revved into life, along with the pounding in Q’s head, and they were in the busy London traffic before Q could even coax out a particularly stubborn sneeze.

[bump-of-whump]

Would you ever continue your story with Yurio having pneumonia? It's soooooo good. Maybe Victor and Yuri come to visit him, much to his displeasure. Either way, keep up the great work. I love your fics!

Sure thing, dude! Thank you so much for your nice words. Here you go, I hope it suffices.

Little over 1k fic commences under the cut.

“Why are you here?” Yuri pokes his head out from his blanket nest to scowl at his unwelcome visitors.

“Be nice!” Lilia snaps, shooting him a fierce warning look as she takes Yuuri’s coat.

“We were worried about you, Yurio.” Viktor clicks his tongue. “Pneumonia can be so serious.”

“Not my name,” Yuri reminds him tartly. “And I could’ve told you that.”

“Don’t mind him, Vitya.” Yakov lowers his book, glancing over from the armchair. “His mood’s even worse than usual.”

“You’d be in a bad mood too if you could barely breathe!” Raising his voice sets off the dormant coughs waiting thick and leaden in Yuri’s chest. He curls his hand over his mouth to muffle it and sits up to help it settle. The familiar pains stab into his lungs, no more pleasant than they were yesterday.

When he coughs his way through to the oxygen on the other side, Lilia has water for him.

“Yeah, that sounds pretty bad.” Yuuri invites himself to the couch much to Yuri’s chagrin, even more brazenly planting his hand right on Yuri’s forehead. An oddly maternal frown creases on his mouth. “You’re really warm too.”

“Hey!” Yuri swats his arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Is he?” Lilia glances over. “Should I get the thermometer? Poor thing’s fever’s been like a rollercoaster. Up and down all night.”

“I just took it about fifteen minutes ago, Lilia,” says Yakov. “No change from breakfast.”

Yuri groans and pulls the blanket over his head. It’s so annoying listening to other people talk about your medical this-and-thats. It’s like rubbing it in your face that you’re sick. Between the constant cough, chest aches, and the stupidly fickle temperature he’s already fully aware of how crappy he feels.

Lilia yanks the blanket down as she winds around the couch.

“Don’t do that. You need as much air as you can get right now.”

“Fuck off,” Yuri mutters tiredly.

Lilia’s eyebrow twitches and and a second later, she lightly bops the back of Yuri’s head.

“Ow!”

“So rude you are.” She shakes her head as she makes her way into the kitchen.

Yuri grumbles under his breathe and rubs the spot.

“You’re not even a little happy to see us?” Viktor invites himself to the couch too, so Yuri’s sandwiched between the pig and the dinosaur.

“No. I wanted to sleep until today was over…”

“You weren’t sleeping when we got here,” Viktor points out.

“I was trying to,” grunts Yuri. He ducks his mouth into his elbow as he starts coughing again, chest crackling with congestion.

Yuuri takes it upon himself to rub Yuri’s back and by the time the teen is through, all the annoyance he might have felt is spent on the increasing soreness of his throat and the residual sticky feeling he gets when he tries to take a deep breath.

“Should you take some medicine for that?” Viktor asks, frowning in concern.

“It’s viral. All I have to take for it is the stupid over the counter crap and Lilia only lets me take it twice a day.”

“If I let you take as much as you wanted, you’d be drinking from the bottle,” Lilia calls over.

“That’s what Viktor does.” Yuuri sighs in disapproval.

“Because that’s what makes it feel better,” Viktor insists. “Let him take some, he’s suffering.”

“He had the correct dosage this morning,” says Lilia. “He’ll suffer more if he doesn’t cough the congestion out.”

Yuri groans, pointedly stuffing another miserable coughing bout into the blanket. Yuuri rubs his back again, hand kneading in small circles until the fit passes.

“Feel better soon,” he says softly. “We should practice together again.”

“Going back to practice the day after tomorrow,” Yuri decisively declares, lifting his head and trying to inhale a full lung. The grip the gunk’s got on his lungs tightens the deeper the breath he takes in, and it ends in another wet cough.

Yakov scoffs. “Oh. And who said that?”

“I did.”

“No.” The older man vigorously shakes his head. “No, three weeks and not a moment sooner.”

“Three weeks!?” Yuri shrieks in disbelief.

“Yes,” his coach continues. “You’ve got double pneumonia, so a week off for each lung.”

“Wait,” Yuri argues. “Okay, first of—“

“And then a third to keep you from overdoing it.” Yakov disregards him.

“That’s stupid! I don’t even think pneumonia works that way!”

“That’s how long you’re going to recover before I let you near that rink, whether you think it’s stupid or not.” Yakov turns away and picks his book up again, evidently not open to negotiation.

“That’s going to destroy me,” whines Yuri. “I’ll fall behind…”

“Don’t worry, Yurio,” Viktor tells him. “Three weeks is nothing. I was out for longer when I hurt my back at your age, and I’m still one of the most famous people in Russia. I’m the most successful skater of my generation, then and now.”

“I don’t think you’re helping,” Yuuri says quickly. “Yurio, you’re— Uh, Yurio?”

Yuri folds forward, sniffling as tears sting the corners of his eyes. He blinks rapidly in an effort to keep them from falling. He feels five instead of fifteen all of a sudden, on the edge of crying and blubbering like this. But suddenly everything is just too much.

Going without seeing Grandpa for so long, being so sick like this, not being allowed to practice for three whole weeks? It suddenly all feels like a huge personal offense against him, this hard sucker punch of circumstance.

He sniffles again and keeps blinking as the sting grows stronger and one tear frees itself. A quiet mewl slips out with it.

“Uh-oh.” Viktor’s hand comes to cradle his forehead. “Think the fever’s getting to him.”

“Leave me alone,” he begs weakly. “I’m tired.”

Viktor withdraws his hand. Yuri’s chest twinges and then he’s coughing once again. He hacks up a storm, coughs harsh and abundant. He pulls a few tissues off the coffee table to expel the nasty blob of phlegm it brings up.

“Cheer up,” Viktor says. “We brought you presents.”

“A present,” Yuuri corrects.

Yuri slowly lifts his head. “Really?”

“Yep.” Yuuri gives him a small, encouraging smile and reaches over the arm of the couch to pick up a plastic bag.

Yuri takes it from him and pulls out a white shirt box. He tips his head as he opens it, blinking the last of the mist out of his eyes. It’s a dark green t-shirt depicting a clouded leopard standing on a branch. Its eyes are huge, tail in the air.

“This is cool,” he admits, brushing his fingers over the graphic.

“We thought you’d like it,” Yuuri says.

“Here, Yuuri.” Viktor reaches across Yuri to give his fiancé the remote. “Find something for us to watch.”

“I’m not going to understand anything I hear,” Yuuri huffs. Yet he takes it anyway and flicks the television on, appearing determined to tackle the challenge.

Viktor gives Yuri a nudge. Yuri glances to him, curiously raising a brow when he puts a finger to his lips. He inclines his head, eyes lowered. Yuri looks down. Peeking out of Viktor’s coat pocket is a glass medicine bottle. Not enough of it is sticking out for Yuri to read the label. Viktor scoots a little closer to him and leans in.  

“Codeine,” he whispers.

Yuri swipes it out of his pocket under the cover of the blanket and mouths a “thanks.”

[forgetwhoyouare-unburdenyourload]

Get Lost in the Pain

       Summary: Jason Dean, or JD for short, has spent years suffering through the journey from high school to high school. All he can trust his the sweet frozen rush of a slurpee and the concrete floors of the local 7-11.

       Warning: Bullying, mentions (but nothing more) of self harm.

       The shrill bell echoed through the halls of the high school, waking poor Jason Dean from his light slumber in geometry. He opened his tired eyes and lifted his head groggily. Everything seemed blurry for a few moments; Random blobs of color passed him by and out of the room. He rubbed his eyes, gave a hefty yawn, and grabbed his satchel from the ground. He was the last person, aside from the teacher, to leave the prison cell one may call a classroom.  

       He tightened his grip on his satchel, burying his head in the collar of his black trench coat. The boy shook is head slowly. As long as he didn’t talk to anyone, no one would notice him. No one noticing him means he wouldn’t get attached. No attachments means no pain when he’d eventually be torn away from this high school and pushed into another one.

       No point. Absolutely no point. He thought to himself. JD looked down the crowded hallway and saw the large, glass front doors. Little shimmers of light sparkled through, welcoming the damaged boy to freedom. All he had to do was get there.

       JD weaved through the ocean of students, putting all his effort to not bring too much attention to himself. As he inched closer to the doors, he could feel the sweet warmth that radiated from outside. He could almost taste the icy treat awaiting for him just down the block. He gave a small smile at the thought of a delicious slurpee.

       However, his close-to-happy thoughts were interrupted by a huge wall of flesh and testosterone slamming into his smaller frame and sending him to the ground. He growled as he looked up at the neanderthals of the school, the violent and raging boys that more resembled apes than anything. They smirked down at their prey, today it being a strange, quiet, and trench-coat wearing sophomore. 

       “Hey, watch where you’re going, Lady-Face!” One of them jabbed.

       “Too busy fantasizing over the boys in the locker room, I suppose,” another remarked.

       “I’m pretty sure I saw him staring at you the other day, Trevor!” This one cracked his knuckles in a feeble attempt to look intimidating to JD. 

       “You wish, meathead...” He said under his breath, however one of the brutes heard the snide comment. 

       “What did you say, freak?” 

       JD smiled as he stood up, brushing himself off. “I said, ‘You wish, meathead.’” His voice dripped with venom as he spat out the last few words. “The only good is knowledge, the only evil is ignorance, my dear friend.” 

       Anger flashed in all three of the boys, just after looks of confusion, as they each started to advance on JD. He gave a dark laugh, awaiting is inevitable doom, when he suddenly heard a rather stern voice from down the hall. “Jason Dean!” Each of the boys stopped what they were doing and looked at the geometry teacher, Mr. Hill. He clutched a leather journal in his right hand, a ruler in his left, and held the book out to the young boy. “You left this in my class. Do try to not forget it again.”

       “Of course, uh, Mr. Hill,” he took the journal and shoved it in his satchel.

       The elderly man nodded his head and looked up, just noticing the other boys. “Is everything alright, young men?” JD turned around and tried his best to suppress his laughter as he saw each of the silent, embarrassed expressions on each of the bullies’ faces. They all nodded quickly just before running off, leaving the teacher and JD alone. “Well, I must be off. I will see you tomorrow, Jason.”

       JD waved a small goodbye as he exited the school, leaving behind the torture of high school and the wonderful escape of the local 7-11.

       The red and blue colors of the slush mixed together into a bright swirl of delicious ice. JD could feel his mouth watering just at the sight of the large Gulp cup. 

       The boy found it ironic that the walls of corporation and corruption made him feel more at home then the place he currently resided in. That the one thing to temporarily fill his empty heart wasn’t his dad or the love of someone, but simply the taste of a slurpee. It was funny and painful all at the same time.

       He capped the cup with a plastic lid and walked over to the counter where he was greeted by an older, scruffier man. The elder looked up from a book he was reading and arched an eyebrow. JD could only sigh in response to the gesture. “Is there something I can help you with, son?” The man croaked.

       JD waved the slurpee in the air happily and muttered, “One for me, please.” The man closed his book and stood up, randomly punching the numbers into the cash register. 

       However, JD’s sense of security soon vanished as he heard three loud and obnoxious voices fill the safe haven. He didn’t even need to glance at the source of the noise, for he was already certain he knew what it was. 

       He begged that they wouldn’t notice him and that he could just pass by without any trouble, however that was way too much to ask for poor and lonely Jason Dean. Pitiful Jason Dean. Pathetic Jason Dean. 

       He could practically feel the ground shake as the three bullies bounded over towards him. “Hey guys, would you check it out. It’s Wednesday Addams!”

       JD inwardly groaned as he felt a meaty arm rest on his neck, slightly choking him. He looked as the elderly man’s eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “That’ll be $1.75, please,” the man’s voice deepened. 

       “Trevor, you know what I’m thinking? We help out the freak,” the brute to JD’s left pulled out his wallet and threw down a twenty dollar bill. “Keep the change, old man.” 

       “Hey, that’s a good idea! Now he can save the money to get new panties for himself,” the other said in a mocking tone. He looked over at the man and gave him a shit-eating grin. “Sir, could you please go see if you have some Corn-Nuts in the back. I didn’t see any on the shelf.”

       “We don’t,” The old man said sternly. 

       The neanderthal narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me, sir, but I would really like some Corn-Nuts. Unless, of course, maybe the small outlet across the street has some. You know, I heard that they would really love a big-time sponsor to get they’re business really rolling. Something my father can especially help with.” The aged man held his stare with the younger boy until he finally left the counter and headed to the back, leaving the teenagers alone. 

       JD bit his cheek in anger, a bad habit he had learned from his mother, and went to grab the slurpee. Yet, poor Jason Dean was not fast enough and the flavorful drink was snatched away by one of the large, meaty hands. JD clenched his fists as he heard the snickering of the three other boys. “Sorry, girly, but I get what I pay for.”

       “I suppose you would know all about that, huh, meathead?” JD couldn’t tell if he was proud for saying such things or regretting them immediately, because before he knew it he was grabbed by the shoulders and slammed into the nearest wall. The air was knocked out of him as his knees gave out on him, sending him to the cold concrete ground. JD already could feel the bruises that were forming on his back and he was certain he’d feel them tomorrow. 

       His home became a dungeon; A torture chamber. Instead of the warm atmosphere or the sweet smell of hot dogs, there was darkness and anxiety suffocating him. Poor Jason Dean. Pitiful Jason Dean. Pathetic Jason Dean. 

       He groaned as he stood up, only to be greeted with the cold touch of dripping slurpee and the piercing sound of malicious laughter. The blue and red ran through his hair, fell down his face, and somehow made it to places even he couldn’t imagine. His eyes burned as the dye made it passed his tightly closed eyelids and his own skin became sticky and uncomfortable. 

       JD bit harder on his cheek to the point where he could taste the blood, but that wasn’t the thing that hurt the most. No, no, what hurt the most for poor Jason Dean was the final shove sending him back to the floor and one of the jocks whispering into his ear, “Why don’t you do us all a favor and just kill yourself...” 

      That stung. No, it did more. It sucker punched him in the gut with a knife. It reached into his throat and grabbed onto his vocal cords and ripped them out with no mercy. It simply told him the truth and he couldn’t handle it. Even though they were only scars, the marks on his wrists began to hurt. His chest became tied to a 2 ton weight. His throat was blocked by a huge dam and the one holding his tears back broke. 

       The old man came back with a bag of Corn-Nuts and saw the scene before him. He felt a fire from within him begin to burn as he marched over to the three boys and practically threw them out. He turned back around and couldn’t help but become absorbed in JD’s sadness. Poor Jason Dean. Pitiful Jason Dean. Pathetic Jason Dean. The man walked over, grabbed some paper towels, and slowly sat down next to him.

       “How are you doing, son?” He idiotically asked. JD resisted a the opportunity to verbally attack the elder, but still scoffed slightly at the comment. The old man picked up on it and shook his head, handing JD the paper towels. “You can have another one if you’d like. On the house.”

       “I sorta lost my appetite,” he mumbled back. The man sighed and scratched the grey stubble that occupied his chin. He nodded and looked towards the door. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I’m out of here next week.”

       “Move around a lot?” The man glanced back.

       “This is high school number four,” JD chuckled. “And still counting.” The two sat there in awkward silence for a couple moments. “I wish I could do something back. Those assholes are the entire reason our society is corrupt. Why people are alone and scared and dead! Those kind of people are just as guilty as any other murderer or-”

       “Now listen here, son. You’re just a high schooler. A kid. You haven’t lived on this here Earth long enough to have the right to judge people, especially in that way. I haven’t even earned that right yet and I may never. Who knows what they’ve been through, who they’ve lost. Who knows how sad or lonely they are,” the man inwardly smacked himself for saying something so heavy to a total stranger.

       “Who cares? Just because you know what pain feels like doesn’t give you the right to be a prick,” JD wiped the last bit of slush on his face. “This world is broken and it’s because of people like them that keep breaking it.” The old man put his hand on JD’s shoulder, making the boy flinch in surprise. The boy closed his eyes, “It’s bad enough I know people don’t love me. I don’t need to be reminded of it constantly by people like them.”

       “I know, I know. I know it seems like that. I know how that feels, but kid, you gotta remember that there is someone out there- no matter who they may be- that loves you. That cares and they will remind you of that every single goddamn day. Okay?”

       “I doubt it...”

       The old man sighed and stood up, offering JD a hand. The boy took it. “Find someone who proves you wrong, kid.” JD arched an eyebrow and watched the strange man walk over to the slurpee machine and fill up a cup. “Care for a hit?” JD nodded and took the cup. “Who needs cocaine when you have this dose of ice, huh?” The two chuckled. 

       “I should go. Homework to do, fathers to deal with, life to hate, you know,” JD said as he walked to the door. 

       “Hey, kid!” The man cried out. JD whipped around. “I always found getting lost in the pain a lot more satisfying then feeling it.” JD glanced at his wrists and gave one final nod before he left. 

       Pathetic Jason Dean. Pitiful Jason Dean. Poor Jason Dean smiled to himself as his brain froze over and caused him to completely forget everything for a few moments.