#turns out it was a lot more work than I anticipated because I forgot Blade's 5th day off takes place *before* Wintersun

[kris-mage-fics]

Wintersun

A short Shepherds of Haven fic that takes place on Wintersun. Some vague spoilers for Chapter 4 and Blade's 5th day off in the Alpha build. Also there's a reference to this bit of a fic I haven't finished, but it's not necessary to understand what's going on.

| Ao3 | rated G | 628 words | Blade/Kyrahlise | under the cut for very light spoilers mentioned above |

"Happy Wintersun," Kyrahlise said as she handed Blade a slim package not much larger than her hand. Neither of them acknowledged the momentary brush of their fingertips.

The gift was neatly wrapped in paper she'd painted with winter berries and small swirls of gold. All tied off with a thin green ribbon salvaged from one of her old dresses. The design was overly flashy for his taste, but she had been too focused on making it pretty and was short on time to repaint something more austere.

Blade raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "You didn't need to," he said, yet she could've sworn his face softened as his eyes traced the designs on the paper.

Kyrah smiled having anticipated he'd say something along those lines. "I'm aware. But I wanted to and thought you might enjoy it."

He looked up from the gift to meet her eyes. "Did you paint this?" Of course he remembered she painted. While in The Reach he'd fussed at her plenty to not paint outside. He trusted her judgment enough to promote her to Captain after a month, yet the cold was somehow too much. He made absolutely no sense.

"Yes," she said in a light tone.

"It's nice." Did Blade's compliment make her feel happy in a way it probably shouldn't? Yes. But she'd take that to her grave before admitting it to anyone.

"Thank you, though I hope you like what's inside more."

Blade's eyes went back to the present he held delicately. She ignored the strange little feeling in her chest when he untied the ribbon and slipped it into a pocket before carefully unfolding the paper. Underneath was a small book of poetry. "You remembered, thank you."

An unusual wave of nerves washed over Kyrahlise. What if he'd read this collection before and hated it? Well, there was no use worrying about it now that the book was in his hands. "Yes, by one of my favorite contemporary poets. Are you familiar with her work?"

"I'm not."

Her smile was tinted with relief. "I hope you find her poetry to your taste."

There was a upward tilt to his lips as he nodded. Kyrah gathered he was thanking her again, but reading his subtle expressions was like cracking a code.

Not that she needed to decipher anything to understand Blade's kindness. He'd always been considerate and respectful towards her. A sharp contrast to how many Norms treated her after she left the Circle. Like when he'd been livid because of what happened in that damned cave, it had filled her with so much warmth. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to have anyone care about her well-being. It was the catalyst for certain feelings towards him being stirred up. Feelings she accepted existed then politely ignored.

Though a recent incident in his room made her question if Blade was really as indifferent to her as he so often appeared.

When Kyrahlise glanced back up at Blade, his eyes were so gentle as they met hers it brought an instinctive smile to her lips. The first time he looked at her like that was when she learned black was the warmest color of all. The way his gaze slowly traced over her face almost felt like a sweet caress that seemed to stop briefly at her lips. But she was likely imagining things again.

A slight frown passed over his face as his free hand twitched, then clenched against his side. He looked at her another moment, gave a hint of a nod and another quick 'thank you' before turning and walking away. When he was out of earshot she sighed. Maybe one day she'd figure out what was really going on inside that inscrutable head of his.

[bloodycassian]

FIRE AND ICE PART TWO - GRIEF

His lack of faith in you seemed to grow with each passing day that you ignored him. He tried bringing you food, tried making jokes. You had a sneaking suspicion he tried to send Mor in to try to talk to you too. But she just read beside you in bed, munching on the plate of cookies he had ordered to your room. 

"I'm not going to say dont be mad it him, but maybe just... hear him out." Mor said, shutting her book. You glared at her. "I know, I know.... but just maybe-"

"He hasn't bothered to apologize. Why would I hear him out when he doesn't even try to hear me out!?" You let her hear the kindling fire that had been building over the last few days. The words came out with precision and cut even her deep. 

"Cassian can be stupid-" 

"He's an idiot." You spat. 

She sighed, and sat up from the pillow stack that you shared. She could see the predator waiting to be released under your skin. And she didn’t want to be the one to let it free. So she went the gentle route. The one she knew would knock you free of the anger. "He wanted to keep you safe." the words hit your weak spot for the male. 

You shoved it away, disregarding the vulnerability. "By shaming me?" She was surprised. Cassian hadn't shown any sign of falseness when she had spoken to him. He had just seemed concerned. You laughed bitterly. "He forgot to mention the part where he guilted me into leaving. He thinks I'm a doll he needs to protect." You cringed away from the words that you knew he saw as being true. The shame filled you further. Like a sinking ship, it only brought you lower and lower. 

She stared at you, those piercing eyes so different from Rhys' bored into you. Her next words were carefully chosen. "Give him.. time." She concluded. You stared after her as she made her way to the door. 

Two days later you had cooled off after a sparring with Feyre and Rhys. As if he had been told of your more pleasant mood, Cassian appeared on your balcony with a bundle of wildflowers and a basket of bath supplies. Your favorites, of course. You didn't hesitate to take them. You gave him a once over - that stupid apologetic half smile he wore dug into your heart. You rolled your eyes at him and turned, heading for the bathroom. 

+

He made love to you that night. Long and slow. apologetic in every way. Sensual, caring and so good. When you woke the next morning, he was gone. Just a note left on your bedside table. 

"Back before lunch" it promised. You sighed and threw it on the floor. The same frustration as before returning to you. The unsatisfied feeling of needing to fight - to get the rage out. To have him just yell at you already. To let the words you knew he wanted to say finally come out. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

The nightmare of those words lingered throughout your slow morning. By lunch there was still no sign of Cassian.

So much for round two.

+

You picked at your dinner impatiently. The various fruits and meats on the table didn't appeal. Especially for such an early dinner. You were hoping to train but Rhys and Azriel weren’t back from their meeting yet, so you decided on a much too early feast for yourself. You couldnt bring yourself to have a bite though. You watched the snowdrifts billow outside the house of wind instead. They flurried down the mountains, shimmering like diamonds in the afternoon light. You could imagine how it sounded rushing down the steep peaks of the mountain. The soft tinkling sound they made when hitting your hair. Your wings flexed involuntarily. 

Mor strode in with a small box in her hands. "Good morning." She chittered, placing the box on the table in front of you. "Whats this?" You asked, skimming a finger over the lid. "A gift." She began walking away without a look back. 

"From?" the box seemed to hum with anticipation. 

"Open it and find out." She called from the doorway. Your stomach suddenly spiked with nerves. 

"For the one you lost. -Cas" 

The one you lost?! The ignorant note made your blood boil. He was the one that had caused you to lose it. You didnt even want the damned gift if he was going to be such an asshole about it. But you couldn't ignore the beauty of the blade that lay before you. Among dark satin lining lay a gorgeous handmade dagger. Black stained metal with a simple leather hilt. Curved at the tip with deadly sharpness. You picked an apple from the table, and tested the knife. 

It sliced through like butter, leaving no jagged edges over the skin of the fruit. You inspected the mark, noting the spot of red on the inside of the apple. Your heart dropped. "Shit." 

You hadn't even felt the cut, the blade was so sharp. You wrapped your loose shirt around the wound on your finger and set the knife back in the box. The blood dripped on the dark lining. Staining the perfection of it. 

+

You sparred with Azriel that evening, working off your frustration with Cassian. He went easy on you, noting the wrapping on your fingers. He didnt ask about it though. The session was more quiet than usual, even for Az. He stopped abruptly mid swing, letting you catch his torso with the training sword. Cassian landed behind you. He had his hands up in defense before you could even open your mouth.  

"You smell like blood." You accused. "And mud." 

"So do you." He gave Azriel a nod, and the shadowsinger excused himself. suspicion grated at your nerves. You set your jaw and put your sword away, ignoring the new blood spots blooming on the bandage. He squinted at it, you cut him off before he could say anything.

"Cassian..." You leveled a look at him. 

He kept his composure, ripping those hazel eyes from your injury. "Dont worry about it. I got it handled."

"You’re half a day late and - wait….Got what handled?!" You squeaked. You disregarded his tardiness all together. The sheepish look on his face said all you needed to know.

You wanted to hear him admit it. That he went and finished the job without you. You needed to hear him admit it. You realised you were tense, waiting to fight. Your wings were tucked in protectively behind you, and your fists clenched at your sides ached.

"Dont-"

"If you say dont worry about it again I am going to throw you off this house." You ground out through your teeth.

He did not laugh, like you would have expected. He just looked away. On the back of his neck you noticed the thin scratches and the dirt that marred his tunic. Your eyes stung with tears. The betrayal hitting you like a ton of bricks. "I did, alright?" He said, voice low. "I took care of it."

"What the fuck, Cassian?!" You exploded, "The bath, the flowers what - so I would be less suspicious?" You recalled the night before, the slow tenderness of him. The 

"What? No - I got that because I love-"

"Dont say its because you love me. You could have been killed. You lied to me." You could feel the blood pounding in your temples, fueling the rage that lashed out. Tears threatened to spill over. 

"I didnt lie!" His voice echoed against the far wall of the training ring. "And you were almost killed too. I couldn't risk that again."

"It wasn't even close to that bad!" You shouted back, not caring how the birds quieted. Your rage matched his, possibly exceeded it at times. You knew that on previous experiences. You'd done a lot more than make nature quiver at the tones you brought. 

"It was bad enough." He said with finality, his tone somber. He leaned against the weapons rack and tapped his toe against it anxiously. You stared him down, daring him to say more. Waiting to strike out against the next words you knew he wanted to say. What you knew he was thinking.

"You're not strong enough on your own."

You didn't need any more of his excuses. You didnt need to hear the words to know that he wanted to say them. You scoffed. It caught his attention. 

"Where are you going?" He asked. A request, not a demand. You didn't oblige him. You just leapt off the side of the the wide cliffside and let your wings pull you up, high into the air. You kept soaring, pushing and pushing until your lungs hurt with the stinging of the air. 

+

Az's cool shadows did not touch you when he landed. The rustling of the long grass around his pants was little more than a whisper. 

"He sent you didnt he?" You wiped your cold nose on your sleeve and attempted to piece yourself together. Things with Cas had gotten just so difficult lately. You didnt know why. He was constantly just... hovering. It made you claustrophobic. You hadn't been forgiving about it either. He wasn't the only one to blame. 

"He didn't..." Azriel stood beside you. You didnt feel his cold eyes that always seemed to pierce into you. You looked up at him to confirm your thoughts, and he was indeed looking over the grand lake you had parked yourself at. Among a valley of trees and violet flowers, the polished surface of the water seemed like a mirror. 

"Then why are you here?" Your words were laced with the venom Cas had left you with.

He was quiet for only a moment, before calmly speaking again. "To make sure you're alright."

"I dont need anyone looking after me. I'm not a child." You spat bitterly. The sunset overhead darkened, slowly making its way down behind the mountains. 

"I know. I came here for myself." His words held no double meaning. No doubt ringing through them. "I wanted to see you." He said simply. He didnt have the arrogant air of someone coming to the rescue. You appreciated that. It took a weight of your chest.

"Why?" You demanded more than asked. You really didnt care what your tone was like. He was the one offering to stay beside you.

He shrugged, and gestured to the large boulder you leaned against. "May I?" He asked. You shrugged back - weakly -, and he sat. You watched the sun disappear completely together. You through clouded, swollen eyes. 

He said nothing, didn't even look at you besides when you choked out a sob. Then his leg was there, subtle and warm. You didn't feel a sting of pride when you leaned against the welcome comfort. He didn't complain when your tears soaked through his pants, or when your cried rocked his body as well. 

[namisthecoolest]

Part II - "One step forward, two steps back."

Gwyn couldn't sleep. How could she after all that has happened ? Mindlessly her hand went to grasp for the necklace but ended up clutching air instead. The tightening in her throat, that she was trying really hard to get rid of, intensified. Mind stilling didn't work and now she lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. She can't stay alone, not with her mind wandering off to places she doesn't want to go. She quickly got up and wore her leathers. That's what she has been doing for the past few months when she waked up breathless with tear stains on her cheeks and a silent scream lodged in her throat. Go up to the House of Wind and train until she's numb of the pain, both physical and emotional one. It was the night of the past years Winter Solstice when the Shadowsinger first found her training in the middle of the night trying to cut the ribbon. That was the first time they had a real conversation rather than him barking orders and teaching her techniques during training.

-------------

When the Shadowsinger landed on the balcony that night Gwyn was surprised because she thought everyone was going to be staying at the High Lord and Ladys river estate. She started apologizing when he cut her off saying he came to retrieve something he left behind. It was like any other night. Her waking up finding herself in darkness and covered in sweat. She didn't think twice before changing and headed up. Every muscle of her body was aching at first but now all is numb and she welcomed it.

"I forgot something. "

She knew he was lying so instead of calling him out she asked, "At two in the morning? "

His eyes shone amusement when he replied with, "I can't sleep without my favorite dagger. "

"A comfort to every growing child. "

They talked a little more before she asked.

"Do you sing?"

Gwyn doesn't know what had posessed her. It could either be the cold got to her head or she was so desperate to divert her mind that she clutched to the first thing she thought of. But it was a question she had in her mind ever since she had heard his title. But that's what it was supposed to be. In her mind not out in the open and especially not in front of HIM. But they were talking and she already asked it and there's no going back so now all she could do is wait for the answer.

He went silent for a second before asking, "Why do you ask? "

"They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing? "

"I am a shadowsinger-It's not a title that someone just made up. "

Well that doesn't answer her question so she shrugged and asked again. "Do you though.... Sing? "

He eyed her peculiarly before the corner of his lips tipped up and let loose a low sound which sounded an awful lot like a laugh. HOLY SHIT SHE MADE THE AZRIEL, SPYMASTER OF THE NIGHT COURT, LAUGH. She was still reeling from her achievement and that's why she could barely register his answer.

"Yes."

Well now she was more curious. She opened her mouth to ask more but was cut short when he corrected her techique on using the blade. Well she couldn't be of blame when all Cassian does nowadays is make googly eyes at Nesta and she said as much to the Shadowsinger, who unsurprisingly agreed. They think they are doing a great job at hiding it but are failing awfully because even a blind person could sense the heat and intensity crackling between them whenever they are near each other.

"Happy Solstice. Don't stay out too much longer. You'll freeze.", he said and left when she nodded and she went back to trying to cut that Motherforbidden ribbon knowing she won't be going back until the heaviness in her heart felt a little lighter.

That night she went back to her dorm later than anticipated. She was on her way up to the priestess's dorm halls when she stopped in her tracks when she thought she heard a familiar voice. She followed the voice to Clotho's desk where she saw the Shadowsinger slide something to Clotho on her desk. She wasn't close enough to hear the whole exchange, but she saw him nodding and then he left. She thought he was probably here for some official business and didn't think much of it. The next day she got the necklace from Clothos with a note saying a friend left it for her. For the first time in a long time the tightness in her chest loosened a bit for her to breathe freely for a few seconds. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever received. A rose pendant that shined every time it moved. So this is what Azriel was doing in the library last night. But he didn't want her to know it was from him. Why? Without thinking much of it she put the necklace on and smiled the whole day.

-----------

Fastening her hair in a braid her eyes caught the black cloak in the corner of her closet. She gulped thinking of the circumstances she and the Shadowsinger had first met and what she had found---NO NO she will not think of it. Her eyes were watering again and so she quickly got out of her room and went up the stairs. When she reached the balcony the sun was already peeking from the horizon. She stared at the sky while it changed its colors in various shades. She took a large breath forcing the fog in her mind to clear.

She had slapped him. For what? Because he had given her a gift meant for another? Fuck. She lost it when she finally processed what Elain was saying last night.

------------------

Elain was staring at something below her face. Her necklace. She smiled remembering who gave it to her and touched the rose.

"Isn't it pretty? " , she asked her still smiling.

"Yes.Very.May I ask how you got it? "

Strange she had thought. Elain and Gwyn never talked. Now all of a sudden she had approached her and asked about the necklace.

"A friend left it for me at the library. " Not the complete truth but if Azriel wanted it to be anonymous and the least she could do is respect his wishes.

"Huh, it looks exactly the same one I had returned to Azriel last Solstice. "

Gwyn's blood went cold. "What? ".She hated how her voice cracked.

"Oh... Azriel had given it to me as a Solstice present. I had returned it of course. But it looks like he found someone else to give it to. "

The necklace suddenly felt like a heavy chain on her neck. Her eyes watered from what?....hurt. The necklace that gave her solace a while ago now was the reason of her heart being gripped painfully. She stood there frozen, until she couldn't take it anymore. Ripping the necklace from her neck she shoved it in Elain's hand who took it with a stone cold face. When she whirled around to leave she came face to face with the cause of her tears. Azriel......how could he do this to her? He gave her a gift as an... afterthought? Someone who would happily take something rejected by another? Someone to be pitied? Is that what he thought of her?. Him standing there with wide eyes didn't help the roaring that grew by the second in her head. She slapped him with all her strength and fled from the spot telling him to never speak to her again.

Mor had found her outside the throne room. She took one look at Gwyn's face and winnowed her back to the library. She was very thankful for her to not question why she was crying. Mor ensured Gwyn had safely reached her dorm and took her leave.

-------------------

Gwyn doesn't know how long she has been staring at the horizon. Apparently long enough for the birds to start chirping and the sun to fully come up. Rubbing her face with her hands she groaned internally. She had lashed at him for something he was not at fault of. It was her fault. She placed her expectations too high for someone like her. A priestess who was violated in ways that cannot be undone and carried baggage more than she can endure. She thought she meant something to the Spymaster of the Night Court. She thought they had been friends after all the late night training sessions they had after the first one and the jabs they threw at eachother every now and then. She was nothing more to him but his student. What was she thinking? Of course he deserved someone like Elain- beautiful, innocent, unstained....perfect. She has to get that through her head. Even if it meant she has to press down her feelings towards him. The ones she would never dare now to indulge in. How was she going to face him now? But she has to try to make things try. After all he still is her trainer and she doesn't want things to be awkward. Determined to set things in their righful place, which also included her expectations which was too high for her own good, she took a deep breath.

"I'm the rock against which the surf crashes ~inhale~ Nothing can break me. ~exhale~ ", she whispered to herself and the world around. With renewed strength she turned around. She let out a humorless laugh and thought the Mother has a wicked sense of humor by---her thoughts came to a sudden halt when she saw HIM standing on top of the stairs, his gaze focused solely on her. She hardened herself.

"Shadowsinger."

[annabethy]

Annabeth making Percy a surprise dinner?

in which Annabeth tries to bake but Percy’s a much better (and entertaining) cook,, percabeth

Percy honestly doesn’t know what to expect at home when his wife stops answering her texts halfway through the day. At first, he chalks it up to her taking a nap, which is understandable considering she’s still recovering from a nasty cold that had her out for a week, but when it stretches hours with no response, he starts to get a bit suspicious.

He goes about his day at work normally, glancing at his phone every couple of minutes in anticipation for a response that never comes. He manages not to get too worried because knowing her, she probably forgot to charge her phone, but it doesn’t stop his leg from bouncing up and down in the driver’s seat of his car.

Percy practically jumps out of the car the second he’s parked and makes his way up to their apartment. There’s not really much going through is head besides him repeating where Annabeth over and over in his head like a broken record. He struggles to unlock the front door, and while he’d like to say it was due to his nerves, it’s much more likely that he is just bad with locks.

When the lock does click open, he is immediately met with the sound of something metal clanging in the kitchen and the distinct smell of smoke.

“Annabeth?”

He shuts the door behind him silently, kicking his shoes off. His footsteps are light against the wooden floor as not to startle her. When he rounds a corner and she comes into sight, there is an image in front of him that makes him want to both laugh and cry.

His kitchen looks like a bomb went off inside of it; there’s flour in every square inch of the room, and he’s pretty sure the counter is going to be permanently stained blue with the amount of food coloring she’s managed to spill. The oven is on, though there’s nothing in it, urging him to believe she may have forgotten she’d turned it on entirely.

Annabeth doesn’t acknowledge his presence, which isn’t a surprise considering the amount of noise she’s making. Percy leans against the wall to watch the scene unravel — Annabeth is wrestling a pile of dough that she clearly hasn’t let rise yet. It’s comical, watching her attempt to bake. She’s never been the best at it so he’s resigned to cooking for the two of them, so when she did take over cooking every once in a while, he couldn’t help but stop and laugh at her in adoration.

She’s with her back to Percy, so he makes to move behind her. If she’s startled when he wraps his arms around her waist, pressing his face between her shoulder blades, she doesn’t let it show.

“Hey,” Percy whispers, pressing his lips right below her ear. The skin is incredibly soft, and he loves the way she smells, so sweet and like herself. “What are you doing?”

She doesn’t answer, instead twisting out of his grasp and smiling innocently. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You mean you’re not destroying our kitchen?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Annabeth looks around the room before looking back at him, as though saying see?

“So we’re not going to talk about your hands stained blue?”

“Uh– no.”

Percy gives her an accusing look.

“I was trying to do something nice for you,” she admits, “but you’re home early and ruined the surprise.”

“Yeah?” He moves to stand in front of her, attempting to corner her against the counter. She protests for a moment before giving in to the kiss he presses to her forehead.

“It didn’t work anyways. I’m not a very good cook.”

“You’re not,” he agrees. Annabeth pouts, and Percy wants to kiss her, so he does.

“Why are you trying to do something nice?”

“Because,” she starts dramatically, slumping into his arms. “You took care of me all last week, which couldn’t have been fun.”

“It was lots of fun,” Percy tells her.

“Absolutely not.”

Percy hums in disagreement. “I get the best snuggles out of you when you’re sick. Otherwise, you’re just mean.”

Annabeth pushes his shoulder lightly. “I’m not mean.”

“Sometimes you’re mean,” he says playfully.

“I don’t think I like being married to you anymore.”

“You love being married to me,” he dismisses, pulling away from their hug. He regrets it a few seconds later, missing the heat of her body against his. “Can I help you finish?”

Annabeth whines. “No. It was supposed to be a surprise, so go do something else while I finish.”

On any other day, he would, but he’s missed her today more than usual. Besides, he’d much rather stay and watch this train wreck unfold in front of his eyes. It’s times like this he loves the most, he thinks, when the two of them get to make a mess with a childlike innocence, just being with one another. That’s what causes him to shake his head and kiss her once more.

“I want to help.”

“You want to help?”

“I love watching you fail at cooking,” he says sweetly, narrowly dodging the flick to the tip of his nose. “Come on. I’ll even clean everything up for you if you let me help.”

Annabeth pretends to think for a minute before stepping onto her tiptoes so she can press a kiss to his lips. “Fine,” she mutters against him, “but the joke’s on you. You were going to be cleaning everything up anyways.”

Percy rolls his eyes, but he can hardly be upset when she’s looking at him with such affection in her eyes.

It doesn’t take long at all before Percy decides to start messing with her. She leans over his shoulder while he begins to mix a bowl of buttercream frosting, and he practically has to shake her off of him. He pretends to be annoyed by the kisses she presses into his neck, the task at hand completely forgotten on her end, but it sends a jolt through him each time she makes contact with his skin. He honestly doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this.

“It needs food coloring,” Annabeth tells him.

“Why don’t you pick a color?” Percy isn’t entirely thinking when he says that. Annabeth takes it as an invitation to pop open the cap to a small glass jar and tip it into the bowl he’s mixing in.

Percy chokes, snatching the food coloring from her fingers. “Annabeth!”

“What?”

He sets the jar aside carefully and shakes his head at her, amused. “You’ve just managed to turn our insides blue for a week.”

“I thought you liked blue.” Percy dips his finger into the bowl, scooping a glob of the deep blue frosting up. He glances at Annabeth, contemplating his next move. She’s looking at him with an emotion he can’t read, and so he looks back to the frosting.

“It’s a pretty color, don’t you think?”

Percy laughs. “You think so?”

“I’m surprised you don’t.”

With that, Percy decides to drag the frosting in a line down her cheek before she gets the chance to move away. It leaves a thick trail of blue that’s no doubt going to be stained on her face for the next day, given the way his finger is colored.

“Percy,” Annabeth threatens. She reaches for the bowl in a sudden movement, but he shoves it away before she gets her hands on any.

“You like the color!” he defends. Annabeth starts moving towards him, and he moves in the opposite direction, attempting to use the island as a barrier between the two of them.

Annabeth just stops and stares at him. It’s not particularly threatening, but it’s calm enough to make him sure that she’s about to make him regret it.

Annabeth points at the ground in front of her. “Come here.”

“I’m good where I am.”

It’s then that she starts towards him again, and he stumbles backwards, stubbing his toe on the corner of the counter. The sharp pain distracts him from the fact that his wife is rapidly approaching, and the next thing he knows, Annabeth is jumping on his back. His knees buckle for a moment before he manages to gain his balance.

Her hand splays across his face as she tries to reach across the counter for the batch of frosting, so Percy does just about everything he can to prevent it. He tries to shake her off, but she just grabs him by the entire face and squishes his cheeks.

“Stop moving,” she scolds, tugging sharply on his hair.

Percy desperately doesn’t want to be turned into a smurf for the next week, but he doesn’t particularly want to drop his wife on the ground either, so he has no choice but to let her crawl across his back for the metal bowl.

“Baby,” Percy breathes out, watching her scoop up a glob of frosting. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I think we both know I do.”

“I promise to be a good boy from now on.”

“Your words mean nothing to me.”

“You won’t do this if you love me.”

Annabeth giggles into his ear, and it’s so cute that he can’t even be mad about what happens next.

She slaps him in the face with a fistful of blue frosting, and it goes in just about every hole on his face. Annabeth’s laughing gleefully in his ear when she slides off his back and admires the work she’s done.

“It’s beautiful,” she says.

Percy wipes his eyes so he can open them without the threat of getting sugar in his eyes. He’s met with her bright smile, her dimples becoming prominent, and he falls in love with her all over again.

“You look good in blue.”

Percy lifts the corners of his mouth, wiggling a finger in her direction. “I think you’d look even better in blue.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Before she can protest, he tugs her back into his arms and smooshes his face against hers. She tries to twist out of his grasp, but he just holds on tighter until she’s laughing to the point that she can’t breathe.

“Now you look good in blue too,” he says. She opens her mouth, about to complain, but then he lowers his lips to her cheek, and her words falter. Her eyes flutter shut as he kisses around her face, peppering featherlight touches everywhere he can reach, before ending against her lips.

“I love you,” he says, “even when you cover me in sticky frosting.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes and kisses his nose. He pulls her in tighter.

“I love you too,” she tells him, “even when you ruin my surprises.

“Oh please. I just made this a moment to remember.”

It’s true, he thinks. It’ll be a pain to clean up, but she looks so happy that he thinks it’s worth it. It’s a memory they’ll pass on and recreate. And maybe, one day… he likes to think that there will be kids that they can bake cookies with. Days spent together filled with laughter and endless love.

Percy’s sure he has a soft smile on his face when Annabeth taps him on the forehead.

“What are you thinking about?”

Percy nudges her nose with his. “Us,” he admits quietly, “baking a few years from now, with one or two kids.”

Annabeth’s smile matches his. “Yeah?”

“And…” Percy bites his lip. “Never mind. It’s silly.”

“Tell me,” she says, eyes sparkling.

“You’re laughing at me,” he complains.

“I’m not laughing at you. I want to know.”

Percy thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. I just love you and us and this.”

Somehow, she knows what he means. She doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t need to. Instead, she just smiles and kisses him like there’s no one else but them.

[vexillumalbum]

Just saw this for mysme, but could I possibly indulge myself and ask for a MLQC headcannon or fic of the boys having a wet dream about MC? Whatever you’re feeling my love ♥️ Thank you for your beautiful work 💕💕

Thank you for your request! I hope this satisfy you haha 

NSFW below

Victor

„Victor~” your voice filled with need was one of the giveaways of how much you wanted him. And when you spread your legs, sitting in front of him on the desk in his office to show him that in the morning you had totally on purpose forgotten to put on your underwear, something inside him cracked and within seconds your skirt was on the floor.

Blood boiled in his veins and was reaching his cock, causing him to lose his temper. You were so beautiful with cheeks tinted a light shade of pink and eyes begging him to fuck you, he was unable to resist you.

A whimper left your plumped lips when cool fingers of one of his hands marveled upon your slick folds while the other hand made a quick work of his belt and zipper. You kissed him, or maybe he kissed you. It didn’t really matter. You were both too lost in a moment to care.

„So good—” Your moan reached his ears drowning his own groan as his hard length disappeared in you. A feeling so heavenly familiar yet excitingly new every single time his cock was enveloped by your heat.

The scent of your arousal - sweat mixed with floral perfumes, your sweet cries of pleasure as he was senselessly pounding into you, your warmth that was so inviting he—

Bzzzt bzzzt bzzzt

Startled, he woke up in his bed, his pajamas disheveled and sheets creased. He turned off the alarm clock, then ran a hand over his face to discover that his forehead was covered with sweat.

A low grumble got out of his chest. He instinctively glanced over to the other side of the bed, where he would normally find your figure sleeping under the covers, but now it wasn't there due to the business trip you were taking. 

Usually he could control himself and his lust, but your absence was taking its toll on him, and he'd had dreams like that for several nights now. 

Ignoring the aching hardness in his pants, he grabbed the phone to see if he had received any messages from you. And when he saw you assured him in one of your text messages that you would be home tonight that day, his member throbbed a bit.

He replied with a simple „I’ll be waiting” but in his head he already saw all the places and positions he would take you in. He had to make you regret leaving him for so long.

But for now his hand had to be enough

Gavin

Too much. 

The sight of your breasts bouncing with every swift move you made, the heavenly sounds escaping your plump lips and the way your warmth welcomed him back with your every move accompanied by his feverish thrusts.

It was all just too much for Gavin.

His large hands caught your hips to encourage you to move more and as his calloused fingers dug harder into your flesh, his name left your mouth making him unable to think properly.

„Gavin!” 

Your hands mindlessly wandered along the edges of his muscles and with every second your nails were digging more and more into officer’s skin leaving moon-shaped marks. He was barely controlling himself, every time you rode him, he would had to hold himself back in order not to finish too early. 

He recognized all the signs that you were close. Your hands clenched into fists on his chest as your eyes rolled back, and your pussy squeezed his cock tighter and tighter with every move. 

He had always thought you were beautiful, but it was in those moments when you were on verge, ready to plunge into the abyss of pleasure, that he considered you the most alluring.

Gavin let himself get lost in pleasure knowing yours would come soon enough and when one of your hands went to grab his hair and tugged lightly he—

Ring ring ring

He sit up frantically trying to stop the noise that caused him to wake up. Because of his actions his phone, still ringing, dropped to the floor making Gavin frown. 

Who was calling him on the early Saturday morning?!

Picking up his phone, and seeing your smiley face along with your name on it, he started panicking a bit vividly remembering his dream. Dude, relax, she doesn’t know

„Gavin? Where are you?” 

„What do you mean?” He asked shifting uncomfortably on the bed. There was a big contrast between your voice in his dream and your voice now but hearing it still made him blush.

„You were supposed to help me with rearranging the living room today! Did you forget?”

Shit, he forgot

„Ugh, no. Of course not. I’m on my way.” He mumbled. „See you soon.” He hung up before you could say anything more as he collapsed on the pillow. Painfully aware of his erection he tried not to think about you but it was too hard. He could make love to you a thousand times before but still be turned on even by smallest things so a dream like that was a lot to handle for him.

He groaned, got up and made himself presentable enough to go to your apartment. On the way out he grabbed a few packs of condoms, you know, just to be prepared in case of… ekhem

Lucien

„Professor, please.” Was the only thing able to be heard in one of the lecture halls one day in the early evening. 

Your body devoid of any clothes was leaning over a large mahogany desk with your ass sticking out in the direction of Lucien, who was sitting in an office chair with a smug grin plastered to his face. His hands folded over his chest as he was watching your curves swaying slightly in anticipation of what’s to come. 

„Naughty girls do not get their treats.” He mused.

„Please! I know I was a bad student falling asleep on your lecture! I’m sorry, now please, please~”

Tired after a long period of teasing from the professor, all you wanted to do was to release the tension he'd been building inside you. But you knew you weren't gonna get what you wanted if you weren't cooperating so you patiently waited for Lucien's next move with your hands clutching the edge of a desk. 

Okay, maybe not so patiently.

You wiggled your ass and arched your back moaning his name. Your juices freely ran down your thighs glistering in the evening light of the setting sun pouring through large windows. A heavenly sight, he would think.

After a moment of silence you heard quiet metal sounds as he was unbuckling his belt and in an instant Lucien’s hands were on your hips. With a delicate kiss between your shoulder blades and a squeeze to your rear, his whole length disappeared inside you. 

The warmth that enveloped his member was addicting and he would never get tired of it. Plunging in and out of you at an insane speed all he wanted to was bring you to your release, that would trigger his and he would spill inside of you or on your ass, he hasn’t decided yet. 

You were close, and he was close and—

Beep beep beep

The sound of his alarm clock has never startled him until now. Usually he would be waking before it even had the chance to start ringing. 

His eyes shot open and for a second he didn’t know if he was still dreaming or not. But the grayish reality brought him back to earth. 

He wasn’t one to like his own dreams, usually they were nightmares, although today he wanted to go back to sleep and finish what he started. Yet, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. 

He reached over to the other side of the bed to hug your body to his chest and leave some butterfly kisses along the back of your neck.

After all, if he couldn't go back to sleep, he’d make his dream come true.

You moaned causing more hot blood run downwards to his member. In that moment he knew he would not let you go until he had you ravished.

„Wake up, butterfly. I think you owe me some apology for falling asleep on my lecture.” He whispered into your ear before grinding into your rear, making you very much awake.

Kiro

The couch in the music studio wasn’t the most comfortable piece of furniture you’ve ever sit on, let alone have been fucked on, but with Kiro every place was good enough to make passionate love. So when Savin left the room with the producer to discuss more details of Kiro’s next album and the blonde send you one of his trademark smiles promising mischief, you knew what you were up to.

Moments later you were pinned to the cushions with your blouse unbuttoned and Kiro’s lips attached to one of your nipples kissing, biting and licking. 

You tried to keep quiet but there was nothing more that your boyfriend loved than your sweet moans so he made everything to make sure you would whimper and whine with his every move. All the people outside the room be damned.

His painfully hard length brushed against your bare thigh and when you buckled your hips to have some sort of friction one of his hands held you in place. He found your pout adorable and sexy at the same time.

„Someone’s impatient.” He sang as he positioned himself in front of your drenched pussy.

„Kiro~”

His thrusts were deep and hard and so so good your eyes were rolling back with each and every one of them. The way you clenched around him caused shivers to his spine.

„I’m close~” you sang, and when you finally reached your peak he found himself unable to control his release further. A few more snaps of his hips and—

Bang bang bang

„Kiro, wake up! You’re gonna be late for your rehearsal!” A voice, one that definitely did not belong to you, was yelling outside his hotel room door. „I’m gonna cut out all of your sweets if you won’t wake up!” Ugh, Savin

„I’m comin’. Give me a few minutes.” His reply was muffled by a pillow he put on his head but somehow his manager still heard him and left him alone. 

Palming himself through his pajama shorts he grabbed his phone and quickly dialed your number hoping you would pick up. And you did after a few signals.

„Kiro? Hello! Are you up?” Your melodious voice was a pleasant sound to his ears. 

„Good morning, Miss Chips.” His usual high voice was lower by a few octaves making you shiver at the other side of the call. „Was I in your dreams last night just as you were in mine? Because I think you should make it up to me for not being able to finish.”

You knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t the first time you and Kiro would have phone sex due to his constant travelling and to be honest every time he called you would wish it was this time of a phone call. 

You rapidly sucked in a breath which made his cock twitched in his pants.

„Oh, Kiro~” Luckily you were still at home, so you had some time for him. 

„I hope you know that when I come back, I won’t let you leave the bed.” He purred into the phone making you wet already. „But for now this has to be enough.”

Shaw

Your mouth around his cock had been his dream ever since the first time he’d seen you. 

Those pink lips stretched out to fit his girth and gentle hands pumping what you couldn't fit - he thought about it at least once a day.

So when one evening you stepped in the shower with him and dropped to your knees, Shaw thought the heavens finally listened to his pleas. 

You started slow, hungrily staring at his member, which gave him a big boost to his ego. You wanted him as much as he wanted you and hell, was he proud of that.

He slipped his hand through your hair and rested his back against the wall, letting the warm water run down his muscles freely.

„C’mon, baby.” With a little encouragement you started licking and sucking at the head. Shaw’s grip in your hair tightened causing you to moan and finally take him all into your mouth. What you couldn’t reach was enveloped in your hand.

Everything about it was perfect. How you were bobbing your head, how you were gagging with his every thrust making your throat squeeze slightly around his cock, how you would hum feeling him getting close. He had no idea where you had learned giving a blowjob so well but he wasn’t the one to complain.

A few more second and he could reach heaven with your lips around him. A few more—

Ding dong ding dong

Oh fuck

So it was a dream after all

He groaned, tossed around the mattress and stretched out before standing up to see who was knocking on his door so early in the morning interrupting his good time. Sharky lying in the corner of the room gave him a look that Shaw could only describe as disgusted, at what the man muttered "What are you staring at?”. 

Ding dong ding dong

He opened the door to reveal your annoyed, a little red face with wide eyes staring at him angrily. 

„Shaw! I’ve been standing here for— Hmph!” He interrupted you with his lips on yours and his hand around your waist pulling your figure into his chest. He didn’t even let you take a breath kissing you hungrily.

He didn’t know why you came to see him probably because you two had agreed to meet on that day and he overslept but he didn’t give a damn. He had a big problem in his pants caused by you and you were the one who was gonna solve it.

He slammed the door, slung you over his shoulder and carried you into the bathroom ignoring your confused screams.”I have to take a shower, right? I just woke up.” He told you with a hint of mischief in his tone and you knew what was going to happen.

Maybe gods did listened to his pleas after all

____________________________________________________

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to read more of my works they are here

[icyberriies]

Forbidden Love

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom’s in love with you, the only problem is you’re dating his best friend.

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Language, unedited

A/N: This is a repost from an all account.

↓↓↓

“I swear to fucking god, I can’t get her out of my head.” Tom swore, shooting at the clay pigeons being launched into the sky. 

“What do you mean?” his brother, Harry, asked. 

“I mean. I go to bed, she’s on my mind. I wake up, she’s on my mind. I’m beating information out of a dickhead, guess fucking what, she’s on my fucking mind. It’s driving me insane.” He sighed, chucking his gun onto the table.

“If you need to, take some time. Travel somewhere. Cross something off your bucket list.” Harry said, earning an eye roll and a huff from his brother.

“I don’t have a bucket list and I don’t want to go anywhere.” Tom snapped. “I want to stop thinking about her.”

“I get that Tom, I really-“

“No you don’t.” Tom interrupted. “You don’t get it. You don't get what’s it’s like to be in love with your best mate’s girlfriend.”

“Shit!” Harry exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were in love with her.”

“Well, I am. Fuck! What do I do?” He shouted.

“Take a break. You’re never going to get over her if you’re constantly around her.”

“But I don’t want to not see her. I want to see her everyday, preferably in my bed in the mornings. If this is all I can get then I’ll take it.” 

“This isn’t going to be good for you, Tom.”

“I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere.”

“If you think that’s best.” 

-----

You arched your back, the muscles stretching in the right way. You rolled over, curling back into Harrison’s side.

“Morning, love.’ He spoke. You only mumbled in response. ‘I forgot you weren’t a morning person.” He chuckled before gently rolling you back over so he could get up. 

“I’ve got to go to work. Will you be okay?” 

“Yeah.’ You sighed. ‘Tom will be here right?” He hummed in agreement. ‘Then I’ll be fine, baby.”

“Ok. Let me know if Tom gets on your nerves.” He teased. 

“I will.” You giggled, pulling the duvet over your head.

Three hours passed when a piercing ring echoed around the room. You pressed the answer button and brought the phone up to your ear, without looking at the ID.

“Hello?” Your voice came out a lot more croaky than you expected so you cleared your throat.

“We need you in your office as soon as possible.” The voice crackled through.

“Why? It’s saturday.” You whined.

“Because we have someone who may know something about the Smith double homicide and robbery.” He answered.

“Oh shit! I’m on my way.” You hung up and got out of bed, throwing on a pair of leggings and one of Harrison’s hoodies. You grabbed a snack from the kitchen and left the house. 

When you got to the office, you were given a run down from the head of the security and ushered into the room.

A half hour later you were annoyed beyond belief. 

“For fucks sake,” you cried, “Just tell me where it is.”

“Never.” The guy spat. 

“Dude.” You sighed. “You’re tied to a chair and you have blood dripping down your face and you think you have the upper hand in this situation. Are you insane?”

“Probably but you still need to try a lot harder than this to get me to talk.” 

“What is it that will get you to talk? Everyone has that weak spot, the thing that gets them to crack. What’s yours?” You asked, running the blade over his thigh, not hard enough to cut.

“You’ll never know.” He hissed.

“Hmmmmm. I wouldn’t be too sure. Take him to the cells.” You instructed the men standing by the door.

“You're too pussy to do anything, huh?”

“No.” You stepped closer to him. “I want you to go crazy from the anticipation. Get him out of my sight.”

You watched the security team drag him out the room, as you wipe your hands clean. Satisfied that no one was nearby, you threw your knife at the wall, the blade getting stuck in the wall.

“Fuck sake.” 

“You might want to be careful, darling.” You knew that voice anywhere.

“Hi Tommy,’ You missed the way his breath hitched at the nickname, ‘Could you grab that for me?” You asked, gesturing to the knife in the wall. You took a second to really look at him, noticing the way his shoulders were slightly hunched and he had a far away look in his warm brown eyes.

He blinked slowly at you, reminding you of an owl, “Pardon?”

“The knife? Could you get it for me please?” He nodded and pulled it out of the wall, handing it back to you. You looked up, noticing the close proximity between the two of you. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“No problem, darling.” Fuck. Why did your heart speed up at that and why were you suddenly nervous.

“I’ve got to go.” You said, wanting to escape the situation.

“Of course,” He stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck. Why did you find that adorable? You got to the door before he spoke up again. ‘Hold up! Will I see you at the party tonight?”

“Of course, Tommy. Harrison’s going so I will too.” Right. Harrison. Your boyfriend.

“Oh right. I’ll see you later.” He sighed.

“Of course.” You left quickly after that. 

Later at the party, Harrison had left you by the bar to talk to someone or other, you kinda zoned out when he told you. You were standing at the bar, ordering a new drink when Tom walked up. 

“How are you? Where’s Harrison?” He asked, leaning over the bar to order a drink. 

“I’m bored, Tom.’ You whined. ‘And he went somewhere to talk to someone.”

“You saying he left you alone?” He asked, tilting his head in the cutest way. **No. You have a boyfriend and you love him.**

“Yup.” You said, popping the p. Tom smiled, finding it adorable. **No. You have a boyfriend and you love him. But I love you.** He was brought out of his thoughts by you. 

“I’m going to he-‘ you started before being interrupted by the DJ. 

“Ok. So. I don’t usually do this but Harrison here,’ he placed his hand on Harrison's shoulder, ‘has a little question he would like to ask his girlfriend. Y/n, can you step forward please?” You start walking towards Harrison. When you reached him the rest of the party guests had formed a circle around the two of you. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now. I've been wanting to do this for ages.’ He knelt down and you covered your mouth, your eyes flicking up to Tom. ‘I had a full speech prepared for this and now I’m here my minds gone blank,’ that prompted a soft chuckle from all of your audience, all except Tom. ‘Y/n. I love you. I’m not going to make this too sappy because I know how much you hate that. I’ve known you were the one for not that long to be honest. I never thought I’d find the one. It was when we were laying in bed and you were doing the crossword in the newspaper, you noticed a spelling mistake. I’d never realised how in love with you I am before that.’ Tom couldn’t take it. He couldn’t stand here listening to his best mate pour his heart out to you, knowing you’ll return the words. “I’ve never felt like this before. So I’m going to bite the bullet and ask you this. Y/n, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me.” The crowd ‘awed’ and you looked up at Tom, who wasn’t where he was last. 

“I- I’m sorry. I can’t.” You heard a collective gasp from the surrounding audience before you turned on your heel and ran out of the hall. 

You pushed open the outside doors to the hall and called a cab, not noticing Tom behind you. By the time you got home, Tom was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. 

“Hey.” You murmured. 

“Hi.’ He sighed, deciding to get it over and done with. He spoke up, feeling his heart shatter. ‘Let’s see the ring then.”

“I didn’t say yes, Tom.” He looked up at you, with his eyebrows furrowed, confusion painting his face.

“I thought you loved him.”

“I thought so to Tom.” You stepped closer, bringing a hand up to his cheek.

“Then why did you say no?” He held your wrist and nuzzled his face into your palm. 

“Because as much as I love Harrison. I’m in love with someone else.” You felt Tom’s breath hitch against your palm. 

**Please know it’s you.** you begged in your head. 

“W-who is it?” **Please be me.** Tom begged in his head, closing his eyes. 

“It’s you. It’s always been you.” His eyes shot open. Neither of you are sure who started leaning in first but the next thing you knew was Toms lips were pressed against yours so perfectly. His lips were surprisingly soft, he tasted like mint and something was so distinctively Tom.

“I love you, Tom.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“I love you too.” He replied, pulling you closer to him. 

“What about Harrison?” He asked, against your lips. 

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. It’s getting late.” You reassured him. 

“I feel bad though.”

“You want me to talk to him now?” You asked, pulling away from his lips. 

“God no. Come to bed.” He started pulling you in the direction of his room. 

“Ok.”

He pushed open his bedroom door with his foot and looked back at you.

“This isn’t a joke between you and Harrison, is it?” He asked,

“God no. Why would you think that?”

“I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t help thinking you knew and you're taking the piss.” He replied. 

“I’m not. This is forever, Tom.”

“And always?” He ducked slightly, placing his forehead on yours.

“Forever and always.” You nodded, pressing your lips to his.

[megalony]

Deadly obsession

This is a new Ben Hardy series requested by the lovely @peterquillzsblog​ I hope you all like it, feedback is always lovely to have.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Ben Hardy masterlist

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) are in a great place in their marriage but (Y/n) starts to get worried when she has a stalker who starts to get very obsessive over her and who seems to know a lot about her.

Enjoy.

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

'Good afternoon, beautiful.'- New number.

(Y/n) hovered her thumb over the keypad on her phone as she debated the message she was reading. If she wasn't sat in the car with Ben right now her first assumption would have been that it was Ben who was texting her from a new number. But considering her husband was sat next to her driving the car, (Y/n) took a good guess that it wasn't him who had messaged her.

She didn't recognise the number and she hadn't made any new friends or colleagues at work. Why was someone messaging her this? Why didn't they put their name at the end of the text since it was a new number?

Pressing her lips together, (Y/n) locked her phone and put it down on her lap with a sigh. Either Sasha had a new number and simply forgot to put her name on the message to say who it was from, or someone had gotten the wrong number and was messaging (Y/n) by mistake. If it was a wrong number they would realise their mistake soon enough, especially if (Y/n) didn't message them back and just ignored the message. But it did sound like something Sasha would say, she always called people honey or lovely or even gorgeous if she really wanted something.

'I hope you have a good day today.'

(Y/n) pulled her lips together as her eyes creased at the corners as she read over the new message. It couldn't be Sasha sending this, (Y/n) was going to see her in five minutes. She wouldn't send a message like this if they were about to meet up unless she was confused or drunk.

But as (Y/n) read over the message again, she couldn't help but allow her lips to pull into a very small smile. Whoever it was who was texting her seemed to be an affectionate person. Of course, (Y/n) had no way of telling if this was a man or a woman, someone young or old, what  kind of personality they had or who they were. But it just seemed like a rather nice thing to say, calling someone beautiful and then making sure they were being thought of.

It almost made (Y/n) feel sad that she wasn't the intended person to receive these messages.

But it wasn't as if (Y/n) really needed someone to send her things like this, she had Ben and she could see and talk to him right now rather than getting a message from him. And (Y/n) knew that Ben was more cheeky rather than loving in the way of his words and texts and calls. He would say sexy instead of beautiful and he would be generally sly and cheeky in the way he said things, he wasn't all that for romance but he was all for winding (Y/n) up and teasing her. That was more fun and comforting to (Y/n) than having someone be too sickly sweet every day.

"What're you smiling at?" Ben's voice pulled (Y/n) out of her thoughts and she turned her head to look at him, smiling wider when she watched his eyes narrow and his lips curl in curiosity.

"Just something Sasha sent me."

"What's she texting you for, you're literally here now."

"You know what she's like. Thanks for the lift." (Y/n) put her phone in her bag which she slung on her shoulder when Ben parked up.

"No problem, enjoy and text me when you need picking up later."

With a lasting smile, (Y/n) leaned across until she was within reach of kissing him, trying not to smile too widely against his lips when she felt his fingers brushing against her neck. Since (Y/n)'s car was being fixed Ben was being her personal taxi for a while and was taking her wherever she needed to be but even when (Y/n) had her car she usually got a lift somewhere with Ben. He was always either going her way or offering since he liked driving and (Y/n) wasn't so keen on driving too far.

(Y/n) playfully rolled her eyes when Ben groaned as she pulled away but the cheeky hint of a smile on his lips made her chest flutter with butterflies. She didn't want to get out of the car but she knew that if she made Sasha wait much longer then she really would start texting or calling to see what was going on.

Barely a second after (Y/n) sat down at the table Sasha was impatiently waiting at, she felt her phone buzz in her bag and her mind instantly clicked to wonder if it was the wrong number messaging her again. (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a bit sad for whoever was messaging her and the person who wasn't getting the messages which were going to (Y/n). The person not getting these messages could be wondering why their friend or relation or partner wasn't talking to them and the poor person was sending all these messages to (Y/n) thinking someone else was reading them.

Ignoring the thoughts for a few moments, (Y/n) leaned over to let Sasha wrap her arms around her and practically squeal in her ear since it had been almost a month since the last time they had met up.

"Finally! I was literally about to ask where you were, it's been far too long. Here, I got you this."

(Y/n) let Sasha almost strangle her in a crushing hug for a few seconds until she finally relented and leaned back in her seat, pushing what looked like a strawberry daiquiri in front of (Y/n) and grabbing her own to take a sip. It was four in the afternoon, it seemed far too early to (Y/n) to be starting on cocktails that (Y/n) just knew Sasha would have ordered with more rum than any other ingredient.

"Sash, isn't it a bit early to start the cocktails?"

"Like we've never started earlier than four in the afternoon, come on it's not like your driving is it? Ben always takes you everywhere." Sasha rose a brow and pushed the drink further over to (Y/n) as she took a rather large sip of her own.

Sasha had dark chocolate brown hair that went in waves and reached her shoulder blades and she had very pale hazel eyes that were almost controlling. She had a button nose and defined cheekbones but she was very tall which made her rather intimidating to a lot of people, even more so when she was challenged in a drinking competition and could drink any opponent under the table.

"I think I'll have a lemonade for now." (Y/n) pushed the drink across the circular table before she slowly motioned her hand to a passing waiter to ask for another drink. She knew well enough to know that if she herself didn't have the cocktail Sasha would soon take it from her so 'it didn't get wasted'.

"Drink it, come on live properly."

"No." (Y/n) laughed through her words before she pulled her phone out from her bag, just wanting to check the message she had gotten to make sure it wasn't her mum or Ben remembering to tell her something.

'Come on beautiful, don't tell me you're ignoring me.'

What was she supposed to do? Send this person a text to say sorry but they clearly had the wrong number? But that would surely lead to a conversation or an awkwardness or an apology and (Y/n) didn't want to deal with that. This person had to realise sooner or later there was a reason they weren't getting a reply. Hopefully they would read over the number they were texting and realise they had messed up, maybe added an eight where there should be a zero or something so simple as that.

She set the phone down on the table before looking back over at Sasha, briefly thanking the waiter who came over with her drink of lemonade which suited (Y/n) a lot more right now than a strong cocktail.

"So, what have a missed, what's going on with you?"

A shy smile came over (Y/n)'s features and she tilted her head down and looked at her drink for a second, wondering if she should say this yet or not in case she jinxed it. But she wanted to share her suspicions with someone and if she didn't tell Sasha now she would be furious later if this turned out to be right and she hadn't been told from the start.

"I..." (Y/n) glanced her eyes down to her phone that buzzed again and lit up but she didn't bother to read whatever the text said, she didn't want to bother with that silly wrong number right now. "I don't know yet so you can't go telling anyone, but I... I might be pregnant."

(Y/n) could feel her cheeks turning red and her foot started to impatiently tap against the floor out of nervous habit. She watched with anticipation as Sasha's mouth opened but no words left her lips, she didn't even look like she was even breathing. Sasha was the first person (Y/n) had confided in about her suspicions but she was the only person (Y/n) wanted to tell right now. She didn't want to tell Ben or their parents and family because it was very early days and if it turns out that she wasn't pregnant she would be getting their hopes up for nothing. But she wanted to confide in someone and it was so easy to talk to Sasha and she would never tell anyone else if it was a secret.

"Might be? Haven't you done a test yet?"

"Not yet, I want to wait a few more weeks to make sure I'm not just really late or something. But I really think I might be."

Telling Ben or her family her suspicions was something (Y/n) just couldn't do in case this was a false alarm or a false positive like it had been once before. She wanted to wait until she was at least two months late so there was less chance of her suspicions being wrong. It felt safer to wait and keep this to herself until she was sure and then take a test.

"Well I bet you are, and you know Ben will be thrilled if you are- speaking of which, is that him blowing up your phone? Just text him back cause he seems needy right now. Oh, and that drink is now mine."

Sasha reached over and took the other daiquiri and lined it up very neatly behind her own that was almost finished but her eyes kept glancing over at (Y/n)'s phone that had gone off three times now in less than ten minutes. She knew that both Ben and (Y/n) would be over the moon if it turned out that (Y/n) was pregnant because for the past few months they had been trying and got one false positive. Sasha herself didn't want kids, she was happy as she was with her husband and no kids but she was praying for (Y/n) to have a baby.

A shiver ran along (Y/n)'s spine when she dared to look over at her phone that did indeed have three new messages all from the same unknown number that had been messaging her for an hour now. Surely they had to get the message that she wasn't going to respond because she didn't know them?

'Come on, stop ignoring me.'

'Have I upset you? I haven't even gotten to see your gorgeous face today, talk to me.'

'Is it because your husband's there?'

Christ, who was this person supposed to be messaging, his lover? Now (Y/n) really did want to know who this was because he sounded desperate and he seemed worried. She was assuming that the person sending the text was a man, it seemed like a man in her mind and it definitely sounded like he was having an affair with someone. He was being sweet or even trying to suck up to someone who might be upset with him and who was married.

(Y/n) felt bad for the person sending all these texts because he was worried he was in some kind of trouble with his friend but she also felt bad for whoever was supposed to be getting these messages.

For all (Y/n) knew the person these texts were intended for was someone who had a one night stand or just a friend who was in love with them who they didn't love back. This person seemed clingy, if it was (Y/n) getting all these messages in less than an hour by someone who didn't like to be ignored she wouldn't be very pleased. Constant messages weren't always caring and loving, they were sometimes desperate and needy and this was clearly a needy sort of person who wanted confirmation and approval.

"Is it Ben?" Sasha's voice pulled (Y/n) out of her thoughts but she didn't know what to say.

This would be a very funny situation to Sasha, she was the kind of person who would either send back inappropriate and explicit messages to lead this person on or she would ring them outright and tell them they had the wrong number. She wouldn't wait and try to ignore them or go over all the messages and fret about what to do or say in response. (Y/n) didn't think it would be a good idea to show these messages to Sasha or tell her she was getting a lot of wrong texts by mistake.

Nor did she really want to lie and say it was Ben messaging her because Sasha knew Ben and he wasn't the type to send so many messages like this unless there was something seriously wrong or he was very pissed about something.

"Uh, no. It's someone from work, she keeps trying to swap shifts with me. It's nothing, I'll turn it off." (Y/n) quickly turned her phone off before she stuffed it back into her bag to try and forget about it. She was here to have a good time with her friend and catch up and have a break from work and everything else, (Y/n) didn't need a random stranger constantly pestering her due to a case of mistaken identity.

They would stop texting her soon enough.

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

"Babe..." Ben tipped his head down so he could whisper the word against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear and he felt the way she shivered against him at the feeling of his breath tickling her skin. He knew she was almost asleep but the shiver told him she wasn't quite asleep yet like he suspected.

His arms tightened around her waist and he slowly feathered his fingers up and down her arm, feeling (Y/n) wriggle a little in his hold. They were laid in bed and (Y/n) was settled between his legs slouched against his chest with her head laid comfortably on his shoulder. She couldn't remember how long they had been like this for but it had to of been a while since she had been drifting in and out of sleep for what felt like hours.

"Baby I have to go to the bathroom, I need to move you." Ben chuckled against her ear when all he got was a very quiet groan in response.

Ben knew they were both comfortable laid as they were but he really had to go to the bathroom and they needed to try and sleep soon if they ever wanted to be up on time in the morning.

Ben sat himself up a bit straighter before he very slowly shifted one foot to the floor and manoeuvred his other leg from behind (Y/n) until he was standing up beside the bed. He smiled fondly at (Y/n) who was like a rag doll in his arms, half asleep and barely conscious at all. With little effort, Ben moved his arms until (Y/n) was laid down on her side against the pillows instead of him so he could disappear for a few minutes.

"Oh, and I think your phone buzzed a second ago, baby." Ben grabbed (Y/n)'s phone and set it on the bed next to her before he left the room.

(Y/n) almost whimpered at how uncomfortable she now felt after leaning against Ben for what had to have been over an hour and now he wasn't here to keep her warm, even if he was only going for a minute or so. When she plucked up the energy to open her eyes the dim light from the tv was far too bright for her tired eyes.

She didn't bother to lift her head when she looked down at her phone, (Y/n) simply brought the phone to her eyes and swiped across to open her messages. Sasha had been messaging her non-stop since she got home but she would have thought she would have gone to bed by now.

It took a few seconds for the words to actually form in front of (Y/n)'s eyes and for her brain to make sense out of them but when she managed to read the message, her body went stiff. She hadn't gotten another message from the wrong number since she turned her phone off at the restaurant earlier and (Y/n) had been praying that he had gotten the message or the realisation that who he was texting was not who he intended his messages to go to.

But it was past midnight and the message that came up was from the wrong number- if she could even call it that anymore.

(Y/n) felt like she couldn't breathe, her lungs were shrivelling up into nothing and her heart started to bash and pulse against her ribs until every fibre and muscle in her body was beating out her heart's erratic rhythm. Quickly locking her phone, (Y/n) pushed her phone until he fell with a thud onto the rug at the side of the bed. She didn't want to look at it anymore, the message was already imprinted on her mind.

'(Y/n), why are you ignoring me?'

It felt like she suffered an electric shock when Ben broke her from her trance by climbing back into bed and sneaking his arm around her waist so he could pull her back against his chest. She desperately hoped he couldn't hear or feel the way her heart was suffering palpitations from the anxiety dwelling in her stomach.

The more the text swirled around her head, the more (Y/n) brought her knees up to her stomach and pushed herself back until Ben was almost engulfing her in his hold. She tugged his arm until it was pinned to her chest and she could tangle her fingers into the groves of his hand and there was no more space between her back and his chest. He was moulded around her form like a smothering blanket in a feeble attempt for (Y/n) to try and make herself feel calm and safe.

But the more every text seemed to repeat in her mind, the more she wanted to curl up and disappear and she knew Ben could tell because he kissed her temple in a way he always did to calm her down.

Who was texting her and how did he know her name?

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 12

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 12: Ella turns her back to Birmingham and stays with Alfie. But there’s still trouble they cannot shake 

         It still surprised Alfie to wake up with Ella in bed with him. Even though it had been nearly nine weeks of the routine. He’d been counting, yes. Because every Saturday morning, when he allowed himself to stay in bed a little longer than usual, he remarked at the sight. The next day would be the ninth Saturday.

           It gave him time to notice certain things about Ella in a setting he hadn’t seen her in before.

           Without fail, she always slept on her side. So there was a fifty percent chance she would be facing him when he woke up. It was one of those mornings. Her hand wedged between her cheek and the pillow, her lips parted slightly as she slept soundly. Her dark hair had grown longer than she usually kept it. It only made sense, she said Ada or Polly usually cut her hair. They always had.

           She’d rotate between wearing her slips to bed and swiping one of Alfie’s freshly laundered shirts. He didn’t complain. He liked the way it overwhelmed her smaller frame, grazing mid-thigh, and the sleeves over her hands if she didn’t roll them up.

           Alfie didn’t complain about a lot of things those nine weeks. It was comforting to have Ella with him. It had blossomed into a strangely domestic scenario. She never left after the night they reunited. She’d simply gone to work the next day and arrived that night with most of her things.

           He didn’t even bat an eye. Because it felt right. More than anything, it was what he craved. The woman he loved always there. Becoming accustomed to her rose and honey perfume and lavender soap, the feminine scents taking a hold of his flat. She arrived home from work far earlier than he did. Sometimes he’d find her in the parlor listening to the radio or already in bed, depending on the time of night.

           Alfie would’ve loved to bury his head in the sand and accept that it was heaven. But he couldn’t. The outside world was still threatening to spill into the quiet home they kept.

           The Shelbys were still in prison and Alfie could see Ella’s hope waning with each passing day. He saw the uneasiness in her eyes. The distrust of everything around her. Her blue eyes always glancing at the quiet telephone or out the window.

           It made Alfie agitated because he couldn’t fulfill her wishes. To make sure her family was spared. The only man who had that power was being an unbearable prick and Alfie was sure he would cause bodily harm the next time their path’s crossed.

           Of course, he wouldn’t. He’d bide his time. Wait for Tommy to make a move. Because there was something the Blinder knew that Alfie didn’t. Something brewing on the horizon and only Tommy was at a high enough point to see what it was. And if it involved Tommy, it involved the entire family whether they liked it or not. That meant Ella so inevitably; Alfie would have to gear up for whatever battle. He wouldn’t let Tommy’s past fuck-ups affect her anymore.

            All he could do was try to win her trust back, even just the little bit he would allow her. Ella had doubled down on her decisions, cozying up in Camden with Alfie. But she listened. Watched. Waited for that sign that something was amiss. Anticipated the next time he would lie or betray her. Maybe he’d lead the police right back to her. Maybe he’d send her back to her brother. She loved him, enough to believe he wouldn’t do such a thing. But there was once a time she thought her own brother would never let his family go to prison.

           As the weeks passed, however, it became increasingly difficult to keep up her guard around him. Not when he was so gentle and cautious around her. With every passing day, she was reminded of why she found him so endearing.

           She’d truly laughed for the first time in what felt like ages because of him. When he scolded Cyril in Russian for snatching half a loaf of bread off the kitchen counter. But only a moment later he was sneaking the mastiff table scraps.

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

           They made love for the first time a few days after the seventh Saturday together.

           Alfie had returned late from work. It wasn’t strange, but Ella was anxious to see him after a long day of work. She stayed up in bed for a bit before she realized she hadn’t left out anything for Alfie to eat.

           Ella wasn’t much of a cook. Not that Alfie seemed to mind much. He often made himself breakfast as he left for work much earlier than she did. And if he did come home early enough for supper, he was more than content with whatever Ella came up with. She learned her way around a kitchen from Polly and Ada. Neither were symbols of a perfect housewife. She certainly could feed a clan of Travelers. Skinning a rabbit seemed much easier than producing grand meals from scratch. It was especially intimidating to consider cooking traditionally Jewish dishes. She thought Alfie might like the gesture, but was terrified to disappoint. How embarrassing would it be to only point out the obvious? That she would never be the Jewish wife his family expected him to have.

           She was ruminating on this occurring fear as she cut up a loaf of bread in the kitchen. Cyril stood by her side, his tail wagging expectantly.

           When the front door opened, he turned and rushed over to greet Alfie. Ella heard the man quietly greet the dog, his heavy boots joined by Cyril’s paws padding on the hallway floor.

           “El?” Alfie looked puzzled to see her still awake.

           “I didn’t really make anything for dinner I…” She turned and gasped.

           He was sporting a black eye that certainly hadn’t been there that morning. He winced, knowing he wouldn’t have been able to hide it from her even if he tried. “Don’t worry, dealt with the fucker who did it.” It was mildly pleasing to know that the man had a bag of bricks tied to his ankle and dropped into the river. Clean cut. No blood. Wasn’t exactly eye for an eye but Alfie didn’t play that way.

           Ella grabbed a cold cloth to give to him. “Put that on it.” She instructed firmly. She had nearly a lifetime’s experience with tending to black eyes both her own and her brothers’.

           “What’re you still doing up, love?” He asked, gently pressing the cloth to his bruised eye.

           “Well, I’d gone out to dinner earlier with Amelia. I completely forgot to make you anything. If you’d like, I could put something together…”

           “Ain’t your job to feed me,” He chuckled and sat down to take off his boots. “Who’da ever thought you’d become such a little domestic mouse after a couple of months?” He teased.

           Ella couldn’t help but smile and walked over to unbutton his waistcoat and kiss his forehead. “Well is Cyril going to take care of you?” She murmured back tauntingly. “Because you’ve got a black eye, love.”

           “In me own fucking house.” He shook his head and playfully grabbed the skirt of her nightgown. “Toying with me in me own house.”

           She giggled and batted his hands away. While leaving the kitchen, she glanced over her shoulder. “Eat something. I’ll draw you a bath. Or would you rather I go to bed?”      

           “Cheeky girl.” He grunted and stood up. “Go on, I’ll be up in a minute.”

           She smiled and headed upstairs.

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

           After a long soak to ease the ache in his body, Alfie dried off and walked into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Ella’s blue eyes followed him across the room as he went to rummage through the dresser.

           Maybe it was just timing, but she’d never seen him so vulnerable. Stripped of all the trappings he used to boost his stature. Never seen the tattoos that crawled over the blade of his shoulder, around the cuff, and onto his chest. Symbols, words, letters she didn’t recognize. Scars etched into several places on his body. A new one shown with every movement of his muscles. Some mildly faded nicks. Others angry and deep-set.

           It was hard to get over how beautiful he was.

           Ella stood from the bed and crossed the floor between them. Alfie heard her shy footsteps on the creaking floor and turned, a shirt in hand. He didn’t speak for a moment and neither did she. Her eyes scanned his torso as if she were cataloging every inch of it.

           Alfie’s breath hitched when she reached up and touched his chest. Her eyes found his again.

           “You’re not meant to have sex ‘fore marriage in your religion.” She clarified without much context.

           He swallowed and shook his head subtly. “No, not really.”

           Her fingertips were light against his skin. “How many women have you slept with?”

           “I uh…” He wasn’t sure what sort of answer she was looking for. But he decided sticking to the truth was ideal. Probably wouldn’t believe him if he testified he was untouched. “Didn’t keep count.”

           Her expression of curiosity didn’t falter. “I’m the last one then.”

           Alfie’s pupils blew wide. The unexpected bout of possessiveness from her was indescribable. It was like a hand reaching right into his chest and clutching at his heart. Without a second to spare, he scooped her up in his arms, hands firm on her thighs. “Ain’t ever made love before. Fucked, sure, but never made love.” He walked her to the bed, her arms and legs wrapping around him tightly. Eyes fixed on him. “So you’d be the first and last woman to claim that prize.” A smirk crossed his lips.

           “Gladly.” She murmured and kissed him without abandon.

           It was like sticking a hand into a fire without getting burned. Ella couldn’t have Alfie close enough. She needed to feel every inch of him against her. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades, clinging to him with every movement.

           With every flex of muscle, they stoked the fire fostered between them. At the peak, Ella cried out and buried her face into his shoulder. She was trembling so badly, Alfie was terrified he’d hurt her.

           When he regained his voice, he drew back and cupped her cheek. “You alright? Did I hurt you?”

           Ella laughed breathlessly and released her grip on him. Her fingers carded through his hair. “The complete opposite.” She captured his lips again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

           She was beautiful. Alfie couldn’t look at her without thinking that. It made his heartache when he woke up to her beside him. As each Saturday passed, he became more and more comfortable with the idea of forever. Forever having her, forever being hers. Used to be he didn’t know what forever was. That was until he found himself in her eyes.

           It was terrifying for a man like him. Someone who didn’t think he deserved forever with someone like her. But she’d firmly rooted herself in his home and his life. And he would never turn her away, not when he knew how devastatingly painful it was.

           So every morning, he kissed her forehead and whispered three words.

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

           Around the twelfth Saturday, Alfie noticed Ella was confining herself. For good reason, she hadn’t been back to Birmingham. But she didn’t roam in London. She’d been keeping herself to Camden much to his surprise. It was nice, she told him about the women she’d met including Ollie’s wife.

           He wasn’t sure if it was a tactic to try and forget her family. It didn’t seem like a healthy strategy but he wasn’t sure how to bring up the matter. Besides, she appeared happy enough. There were always the subtle hints she unwittingly gave up about her worry. But she would brush him off if he ever inquired if she was okay.

           One night, Alfie came home to the house smelling like an actual bakery. Warmth radiated from the kitchen and Ella had the radio loud enough so she could hear it from the parlor.

           He greeted Cyril while hanging his coat up. “What’s she up to then?” He asked the mastiff and followed him into the kitchen.

           Ella was humming along to the music, subtly dancing around the kitchen. She spun back and forth between the counter and the table. Her curls pinned up to accommodate for the longer length they were. She’d fashioned a small scarf into a headband to hold back any stray pieces of hair. She had what appeared to be a new apron tied around her waist and was wearing one of Alfie’s button-down shirts, the sleeves bunched up around her elbows, and a pair of loose-fitting trousers.

           Alfie smiled and snuck up behind her. She shrieked when he tickled her sides. “Alfred Solomons!” She smacked his arm. “Don’t fucking do that when I’ve got a knife in me hand!”

           He laughed and surveyed the scene in front of him. “You baking, love?” There was flour everywhere, even in Ella’s dark hair and across her cheek. The scent of bread also wafted from the oven.

           She pulled a sour face when she sensed the hint of amusement in his voice. “So what if I am?” Her hands went to her hips.

           Alfie wrapped his arms around her waist. “Didn’t think you liked baking, s’all.”

           Ella frowned and slung her arms around his neck. “Not much good at it.” She admitted. “Minnie tried teaching me. Says she’ll teach me how to make Challah.”

           “That’s nice.” He nodded and recognized the name of one of his neighbors down the street. She was one of the women Ella had befriended. “Made a fucking mess but smells good.” He brushed the flour off her cheek and tried to comb it out of her hair.

           She shrugged. “We’ll see how it turns out. Trying to be proper, I s’pose.”

           Alfie’s brow furrowed. “That what this is ‘bout?” He tilted her chin up so she couldn’t avoid eye contact. “Love, you don’t need to do all this. You’re not…” He waved a hand around to find the words. “Don’t need you to be like them.”

           “Like Minnie?”

           “Right. I know that’s not you. Don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, right, if ya just trying to please me. Love you the way you are.”

           Ella stuck out her lower lip, her eyes flicked sheepishly away from his face. “Just thought you’d…I dunno.”

           Alfie reached around her waist to untie the apron, slipping it off and tossing it onto the flour-covered counter. He took her hand and coaxed her into the parlor where the music was loudest.

           She pouted but accepted the gesture and followed him down the hall. Her arms slipped back around him as he pulled her into a slow dance. Her cheek pressed into his shoulder.

           “Me mum, yeah, wanted me to marry a good Jewish woman. Someone to take care of the house, cook Kosher, pop out Jewish babies. If I wanted that, I would’ve tried to find someone like that long time ago, right? But I didn’t because I were looking for you, weren’t I?”

           Ella smiled slightly. “Looking for trouble? ‘Cause that’s all I am.”

           “Trouble or not, you’re fucking worth it, ain’t ya?” He grazed his lips over her temple.

           “Alfie, I’m afraid.” She admitted in a voice just loud enough to hear over the music.

           “Afraid of what, love?”

           She chewed on her lip and listened to his heartbeat for a moment before she answered. “I’m afraid of what’s to come and how it’s gonna affect us. Something’s coming, I know it is.”

           After speaking to Tommy weeks earlier, Alfie agreed with her. There certainly was something in the air. “We’ll be okay.” He murmured. “Won’t let anything happen to you, yeah?”

           “Just want to stay like this.” Uncertainty made her voice waver. “Please let it stay like this, Alfie.”

           He tightened his arms around her to comfort her. “Sh, sh, s’alright. It’ll be alright.”

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

           Every Wednesday afternoon, Ella would travel down the street to Minnie’s flat. There, she would hold tea for the friend group. The location never varied. Minnie was one of the few women in the group who didn’t have children. So the rest of the group took the afternoon as a welcomed break from the kids. Either they were in school, or they would drop them off at a relative’s house for a few hours. Sometimes, they’d bring the kids along, letting them play with toys in Minnie’s parlor while they talked in the adjoining kitchen.

           Ella adored all of the children the women had. Ollie and Elsie had four kids ranging from even to eight months. Ruth had a two-year-old daughter who was her entire world. Annie was pregnant with her first, having only just gotten married. Nora was also pregnant but with her third child, already having two young boys. And finally, Lydia, the oldest of the group, took home the prize of most children with six little ones.

           Every opportunity, Ella took to babysit. She missed her nieces and nephews, wishing she could see them again. It wasn’t their fault the family had been torn apart. She’d made note of Charlie’s birthday and had cried when she realized how long it had been since she’d seen him.

           Still, she kept her sanity despite the seemingly irredeemable loss of her family. The relationships with the Camden women and women from work helped. Along with Alfie, they reminded her that she had a choice of who her family was. Last names didn’t matter one bit.

           On Wednesdays, Ella left work early, freshened up at home and headed over to Minnie’s. Sometimes she brought along baked goods she had tried to make. It was usually just to ask Minnie what she’d done wrong because they didn’t quite taste as good as they did when they’d made the same thing together.

           She adored the small, tight-knit group of women and was grateful they had been so welcoming to her. It did help that most of them were wives of men who worked for Alfie. Some women in Camden would hardly look at Ella not because of her lack of religion, but because of her affiliation with the gangster boss.

           They were quite different from the women she’d been raised with. They were modern women in an orthodox community. Their hair was covered because of their marital status, never wore trousers, they attended temple without fail, and were devoted to their husbands. They were the kind of Jewish women that Alfie’s mother probably wanted him to marry. But times were changing and they’d secured some freedoms. Among friends, they were chatty and loved to have a good laugh. They tittered about topics that most men would deem inappropriate for women. Some even had a good deal to say about the current climate. But it was all good fun.

           They especially liked having Ella around. The Shelby girl was extremely interesting to them both because of her different upbringing and her unorthodox relationship with Alfie. The women were careful not to discuss the Shelby family. Ella had been clear that she no longer associated with them and would rather not go into too much detail about the situation. Minnie, the one closest to Ella, knew a bit more than the rest of the group. Ella had confided in her about the actions Tommy took to get her arrested. Also how her family was still facing the death sentence.

           But they did hawk her about Alfie. Most of them had known him for a very long time but only knew him as the gruff, intimidating man who had violent tendencies towards his enemies and questionable morals. None of them ever expected him to find someone to love.

~~~~~~~~~~~`

           “My mother would always steer me away from him.” Ruth wrapped her hands around the warm teacup. “You should’ve seen him before the war, El, just a troublemaker.”  

           Ella smiled and tried to imagine her Alfie as a young man. Clean-shaven, thin, always scuffed up from a fight or arrest. “Why am I not even surprised?” It was sound. Men like Alfie always got their start on the streets. All of the Shelby children did. The Italians did as well. The rejected bits of society. The bottom of the pyramid, the people the elite snubbed and continued kicking to the dirt. Most took their fate with stride. Others refused to accept it. A poor Jewish boy, a poor Irish Traveler, poor Italian immigrants. They simply kept getting up, dusting themselves off, and raising more and more hell. Louder and louder until they were impossible to ignore.

           “Such a little hellraiser.” Nora agreed. “The police all knew him by first and last name. They knew his mother’s name too.”

           “Do you remember when he came back from France?” Minnie set down a plate stacked with treats.

           “Sure, he came back the same day David did,” Nora answered. “Saw him at the train station. Something different about him, but they all changed when they were over there.” She shrugged.

           Ella nodded, her eyes glancing down at the tea in front of her. She hadn’t noticed how she was absent-mindedly stirring the tea for much longer than needed. “He never even dated anyone?” She wondered. Alfie hadn’t gone into detail about his past relationships. Neither of them had decided it was important enough to discuss. They didn’t realize that neither of them had ever held a serious relationship.

           The women chuckled in response. “There isn’t much dating here,” Elsie explained. “Usually your parents make the arrangement.”

           “Oh…” Ella tilted her head to the side. “That’s usually how gypsy clans do it too.” She admitted and thought about what Alfie had said a while back. About how her brother was ready to offer her up to another family. Maybe one of the Lees or the Youngs.

           “He’s had his good share of fine women from France.” Annie hid her smile into her teacup.

           The women laughed and Ella looked amused. The comment didn’t faze her. “Oh, I’m sure. We’ve had the discussion about our purity. Or lack thereof.”

           They all shared a sly look. “And I’m sure he’s given you the spiel that sex before marriage is never explicitly forbidden in the Torah.” Annie giggled and nudged Ella’s arm.

           Her face turned red. “Well, no he didn’t mention that specifically. Just said it wasn’t really proper.” She shrugged meekly.

           “Alfie does what he likes.” Minnie sighed and shook her head. “He always has, but you’d have to be blind to miss the way he looks at you. Didn’t think he had that sort of affection for anyone.”

           It warmed Ella’s heart to think about the subtle smile he tried to hide whenever he looked her way. Minnie was right; it was damn near impossible to miss the softening of his features, the way his muscles slightly relaxed, and the fondness written in his eyes. “He is much more than his reputation. We’ve had our ups and downs…but he is a good man.” She smiled sheepishly. “I ought to think he likes me if he’s stuck around this long.”

           Ruth chuckled. “Are you mad? He’s crazy for you. Surprised he hasn’t swept you off to get married.”

           Ella tapped her heel against the leg of her chair and clicked her tongue. “Well, since I’m not Jewish…I dunno.” It was so easy to forget the clear lines of division between her and the rest of the Camden community. When they welcomed her with open arms, she could disregard their differences. But something would always pop back up to remind her. “We haven’t spoken about it since I’ve moved here.” She purposefully left out the part when Tommy tried to barter her hand for loyalty.

           Minnie rolled her eyes. “Again, the man does what he likes, love. He’s not exactly what I would call a traditional man.”

           “He’ll probably bribe Rabbi Halberg.” Lydia joked.

           They shared a laugh but Ella shook her head. “No, no, I wouldn’t want to disrespect anyone. We’ll just have to make do I suppose.”

           “His brother married a catholic girl,” Annie recalled. “Before he and Alfie went to fight in France. Actually…no, did Joseph fight in France?”

           Ruth frowned as she searched her memory. “He enlisted far sooner than Alfie did, even before the war started. He was older. I believe he was shipped further East.”

           “Perhaps. Well anyway,” Annie waved off the minor detail. “He met a nurse and married her just months after they met. Don’t believe they had much of a ceremony, just went to the court to have the marriage licensed.”

           “Oh, but what’s the fun in that?” Nora frowned. “I want to dress her up!”

           Ella laughed but cringed a little. It was a nice fantasy, dressed in white, walking down the aisle with flowers and the whole shebang. But it just didn’t seem plausible. Maybe she lost the desire when they argued about it after Tommy’s proposition. Their relationship wasn’t standard so they wouldn’t follow standard procedures. “I don’t think Alfie would want a large ceremony anyway. Besides, I never saw myself as marriage material. Minnie knows, I’m shit at cooking and I’m messier than Alfie and Cyril combined.”

           “He doesn’t want a housewife. Just a wild Shelby girl to call his own.” Nora assured her. “He’ll just want to put a massive rock on your finger and brag about you. He loves you and men in love are very foolish. They’ll act like circus clowns, flipping over backward for your affection. And when they’ve got it, they’ll do everything they can to keep you happy. Not to mention he’ll want to show off a beauty like yourself.”

           The women agreed and teased Ella over her face turning bright pink. “Like Ollie. Elsie, tell her the story.” Ruth prompted.

           Elsie grinned and shook her head. “Talk about a fool. When we met for the first time he was so nervous. I thought he was going to faint!”

           “And your father was afraid he’d made the wrong choice!”

          The women continued on, telling Ella about the first time they'd met their husbands. She smiled and laughed along with them but in the back of her mind, she wondered about what the future held for her and Alfie.

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

           Monday evening, Ella was walking home from work. Alfie wasn’t fond of the arrangement. He offered to have a car pick her up to and from work, but she brushed off his concern. She had to remind him that she’d been walking city streets on her own for a very long time, both Birmingham and London. Safe to say, she won that battle and enjoyed the walk to and from work.    

           It was nearing dusk and it was a mild night out. She was getting close to Camden Town, only a few blocks away from the flat she now called home. It was quiet out, only a few other people making the commute home as well.

           “Miss Shelby!” An unfamiliar voice from behind called her name.        

           Ella paused and turned.

           A man in a nondescript, heavy black coat and derby hat approached her. She didn’t recognize him from anywhere. Not as one of Alfie’s men or a Blinder. If Tommy were having her followed, then they wouldn’t outright address her.

           “Pardon, do I know you?” She kept her guard up, her hand subtly tucking into her coat where her small handgun was kept.

           “We haven’t met before.” He pulled out a badge to show her. “Inspector Ian Blackwell of Scotland Yard.” He introduced himself.

           “Uh-huh.” It didn’t matter whether he was actually from the Yard or pretending to be. Either way, she was wary. “Can I help you with something?”

           “I’m sure you can.” His smile was unnerving. Strangely arrogant and yet secretive. “You’re the younger sister of Arthur, Thomas, and John Shelby? The niece of Mrs. Polly Gray?” He asked.

           “I’ve no ties with my family anymore.” She replied frigidly and kept her distance from him. “I haven’t spoken to any of them in months.”

           “I’m sure you haven’t. All of them were in jail, save for Thomas.” Inspector Blackwell tucked his badge away.

           The corner of Ella’s mouth twitched as she tried to keep her surprise under wraps. “So they’ve been released?”

           “You didn’t know?”

           She wasn’t fooled. That was a tried and true Shelby response to an interrogation. Answer questions with more questions. “If they’re not in prison anymore, Inspector, then why are you so curious about them?”

           He chuckled and stepped towards her. “What about a Mr. Alfie Solomons? What do you know about him?”

           Ella leaned away from him, trying to keep her distance without stepping back. She didn’t want him to know she was uneasy in his presence. “That name is unfamiliar to me.”

           “Really?” An amused glint passed over his face. “Shouldn’t you know the name of the man you’ve been living with for months?”

           “This conversation is over, Mr. Blackwell.” She hissed and went to turn away from him.

           Before she could reach for her pistol, the much bigger man snatched her by the arm. He wrenched her towards him and tilted his head down to whisper in her ear. “I don’t like people like you, Miss Shelby. Think you’re above the law because you’re fucking a gangster. If you make this difficult for me, rest assured I’ll make you pay. Or, you can comply and I’ll spare you.”

           “Or I can shoot you square between the eyes.” She replied in a cold voice. Her blue eyes glared back at him, refusing to show him any fear. “Do you know what’ll happen after that?”

           His jaw clenched but he didn’t respond.

           “I’ll let you know.” Her eyes narrowed. “I shoot you, spray your brains all over the street, leave you to bleed out like the pig you are. No one calls the police. Instead, four men arrive after I’ve gone. Jewish men. Very honorable men. They pick you up and bring you to a bakery down the street. They cut you into pieces, remove your teeth, burn off your fingertips, and pack you up into sacks. Around midnight, they take those sacks to the cut. Weigh them down with bricks. Come morning, there isn’t a trace of you. One could argue you never even existed. Your little friends can come here and ask what happened, but no one will know. You were never here. They’ve never heard of you. Then like that you’ve disappeared.”

           “You bitch…”

           “Thing is, Mr. Blackwell, it doesn’t matter who I’m fucking. Doesn’t matter who my family is. At the end of the day, I’m just as dangerous as they are.”

           “You and your dirty gypsy kin will hang.” The inspector snarled and tightened his grip on her arm.

           “We control the ropes, inspector. We decide who hangs.”

           “Miss Shelby?” One of the young men who worked for Alfie, Ben, was walking down the street. He paused when he saw the woman being accosted by the much taller man. “What’s going on?”

           The inspector loosened his grip and Ella took the opportunity to rip away from him. “This is Scotland Yard business, none of your concern.” He snapped.

           “You’re in Camden, anything ‘round here is Alfie Solomons’s business.” Ben reached a hand towards the gun tucked in his belt. “So I suggest you move along and leave Miss Shelby alone.”

           Blackwell narrowed his eyes but took a step back to show he was surrendering, even for just a moment. “Was only asking her a few questions, I'm well within my rights.”

           Ella moved to stand closer to Ben. “Will you walk me home?” She asked him quietly. Her eyes didn’t move from the detective, making sure he didn’t make any sudden movements.

           “Of course.” Ben nodded and gave the inspector one last glance.

           “I’ll be seeing you again soon, Miss Shelby,” Blackwell said with a hint of malicious glee in his voice. Despite her threats, he gave her a smug smirk before turning to walk away.

           “C’mon, let’s get you to the bakery.” Ben touched her arm to guide her in the opposite direction. “Alfie’ll want to hear what happened right away.”

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

           Alfie was very interested in what the inspector had to say. But he flew into quite a fit before Ella had the chance to give him specifics. Once he heard that Ella had been stopped by someone from Scotland Yard, he dished out orders. Several men were set out to see if they could track down the inspector and others swept out to see if there were any other cops that were unfamiliar to the area.

           “If you find that fucker, you bring him back here so I can deal with him properly,” Alfie demanded before slamming the office door behind him.

           Ella was curled up in his leather chair, concern etched into her face. “Alfie, I didn’t mean to cause all this stir.” She said quietly. "I'm afraid I might've riled him up a little. He wasn't the only one tossing 'round threats." She admitted.

           “No, no.” He shook his head and rounded the desk. “’Nough of that, love. None of this is your fault.” He knelt down in front of her and took her hands. “Did he hurt you at all?”

           She shook her head. “No. He grabbed me but it’s nothing.” Her hand subconsciously rubbed the bruised area on her arm. “He knew about us…knew about my family. Alfie, they’ve been released from prison.”

           His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Must’ve been recent, haven’t heard anything ‘bout that.”

           “Things won’t be able to go back to normal.” Her eyes gazed off, blankly staring at the filing cabinets. “I’m glad they’re safe but…what did Tommy do to get them out of prison? Why did he arrange it all to begin with?”

           “S’pose that’s what that inspector is trying to figure out,” Alfie suggested with a slight shrug. His thumb grazed back and forth over the top of her hand, trying to calm them both down.

           “If the Yard’s questioning me then they’re questioning everyone. I bet they can’t even get to Tommy though.” She muttered. Her brother always had a tendency to avoid consequences.

           It was reasonable to assume Scotland Yard wanted to figure out what went wrong. Wanted to know how the members of the Shelby family just simply walked. But Alfie was not willing to let Tommy involve Ella in his mess again. Even if that meant keeping the Yard away from her. “I’ll handle it, love,” Alfie promised her.

           “This isn’t about you. This is Tommy’s doing, he should have to handle it. I’m sick of feeling the aftershocks of his decisions.”

           He clasped her hands in his. “This Blackwell, he mentioned me too, didn’t he?”

           Ella nodded hesitantly.

           “So then it’s ‘bout me. I’ll handle it.” He insisted firmly, holding her gaze. “El, I know that you’ve lost the trust of everyone including me. ‘N maybe I’ll never win it back. The only thing I can do is show that I’ll take care of you. ‘Cause I will. No matter what I’ll take care of you.”

           She leaned forward to hug him. “I wish I could be different for you.” Her voice broke. The fearlessness she’d shown in front of the inspector was beginning to fade. Those days, there was only one person she showed her vulnerability to. And he was holding her close.

           “Love, I don’t want you to be any different than you are right now.” He murmured.

           Ella buried her face in the crook of his neck, refusing to let go. “If I were different, your life would be so much easier.” She argued glumly.

           “If you were different, yeah, then we wouldn’t have fallen in love. Then me life would be fucking miserable, wouldn’t it?” He stroked her hair back and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Love you just the way you are and that ain’t ever going to change.”

           She whimpered a disagreement but was too tired to fight. Instead, she leaned into his arms, letting him take some of the weight from her shoulders. Her eyes closed and she honed in on his breathing.

           “Don’t worry about this, okay? I’ll take care of everything.”

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye​ @octaviareina​ @mylovelykelsifer​

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[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 8: More Bite than Previously Anticipated

Keith wants his blade back, and he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer!

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Keith’s asleep. Looking at him, he really does look small. Tiny, even. He’s not just short for a Galra, he’s slender, too. Not bulky like the rest of his kind.

It’s kind of adorable.

He just looks so little and soft, dark hair all over the place, all curled up beneath the blankets. A bumblemoth bobs into the room from their open garden, hovering by the Galra’s fluffy ear, and it twitches and flaps at the irritation.

Lance bites back a smile.

He’s only just returned the bumblemoth to the garden, it’s little claws pinching at the cage of his fingers, when Keith sits up. The Galra looks around himself with alarm, not at all familiar with the room yet. It’s only been a movement.

He looks wild. Frightened.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Lance gently sits down on the edge of the bed by Keith’s feet. “It’s alright. It’s just our room. You’re safe-” Lance cuts himself off. That wasn’t true at all.

Keith relaxes, but the tired look in his eyes says that he doesn’t believe Lance’s words either. Their gazes part. Silence drags.

“Lance?”

“Yes?”

“They took my blade. The seamsmaster took my blade and gave it to a guard.”

“We’ll go and retrieve it today,” Lance says immediately.

“We will?” Keith seems surprised, though Lance can’t fathom why.

“Yes. You are a prince now. You order the guards, not the other way around. It’s time they learned that.” Lance heads to the wardrobe and retrieves a set of clothes for Keith, who doesn’t bother to hide his distaste. “I know you don’t like them. We can speak to the seamsmaster today about something special for you.”

“I don’t want to order anyone around... Or be a bother.” Keith pulls his knees up to his chest. Lance walks over and sits back on the bed, still in his nightclothes. He forgot that Keith’s only been a noble for a phoeb.

“Hey, all I meant was that they’re not allowed to treat you like that. All of this is hard enough for you without the guards making it even harder. And you’re not a bother, Keith. Not in the slightest. Actually, Father says your eerily low-maintenance.” Relief floods Keith’s face. “Why are you worried about being a bother?”

“Oh.” Keith’s ears pin back, slightly at an angle. Not angry. Anxious. “It’s nothing. I just had a few health problems as a small kit... It can be burdensome.”

Lance takes a deep breath. “Alright, so if you’re not well, I expect you to tell me so I can make sure you’re taken care of. You mustn’t just grit your teeth and bear it, understand? Your well-being is not burdensome, Keith.”

“How do you-”

“Please. You’re obviously the type to ignore your well-being.” Lance pushes the clothes toward Keith, grinning. “Now come on, we need to get dressed and eat breakfast before I go yelling at the guards. It’s hard work.”

The moment Keith’s back turns, Lance’s smile slips. He can’t help it. What other secrets is Keith hiding? He's so reserved and mysterious. He's been here for almost a movement now, and Lance still knows practically nothing about him.

Breakfast is its usual, lifeless affair, with Alfor and Coran discussing important, peace-keeping diplomacy that Lance isn't welcome to weigh in on and a silent spouse who eats his food and sits still to wait until Lance is finished. The only interaction he gets is a scolding from his father when he brings out his datapad to thank Hunk for the food and tell him that Keith seems to have liked his.

Lance can't wait to do it all again in a few vargas. He almost wishes he could hold court again this quintant as an excuse to skip lunch.

Almost.

Later, he stands before Commander Iverson, arms folded. “I’d like my blade back, please,” Keith murmurs, hands clasped behind his back, the picture of civility and respect. Just like Adam showed him. The commander frowns.

“A luxite blade is not something that should be in the hands of one such as yourself-”

“How about in the hands of a prince, Commander Iverson?” Lance makes no attempt to hide his irritation. His left ear twitches.

The captain scoffs. “This kit is hardly a-”

“ Prince Yorak is my spouse . Do I need to give you a lesson on how royal marriages work, or are you willing to hand it over?”

“I am most certainly not willing.” The commander is seething. His first instinct, Lance knows, is to shield him from his own spouse. It's a difficult situation to navigate. He understands Iverson's position, but the commander's behavior is entirely unacceptable.

Lance’s left ear ticks again. He hates it. “I’ll have you stripped of your post. One word to the king and you’ll spend the rest of your life destitute, I promise you. You and your men are to respect Prince Yorak, and defend him with your life. Such is the pledge you took when my family gave you this station.”

“He is the enemy,” the commander hisses.

Keith snaps, lunges forward, grabs the commander by his cuirass, pulls him down to eye level. The guards flanking their leader don’t move. They know better. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I am not your enemy. I am your charge. The Crown’s most precious treasure. I will provide us with the next king, your heir to the throne. Your duty is to ensure that I live long enough to do so. Now hand over my blade and relearn your place, before I teach you myself.”

The commander wordlessly pulls out a small dagger, offering it to the prince handle first. Keith takes it, slips it into one of the folds of his clothes, regains his composure. “Thank you.”

Keith releases Commander Iverson, who stumbles back with a nasty glare. Keith passively holds out his hand. Lance takes it, letting Keith lead him away.

Keith sighs. It’s not even lunch time and already he’s tired. His head is spinning.

Lance’s head is spinning too, staring wide-eyed at his spouse. Where the quiznak had that come from? Keith must be getting more comfortable here if he feels safe enough to pick fights with the Crown Guard. He never thought he’d see the gruff old commander soil himself, but apparently being lifted from the floor by a Galra that's a dash shorter than himself will do the trick.

“Forgive me. I did not mean to lose my patience. His behavior does not seem appropriate.” Formal, in the presence of the servants and guards.

“It is not.” Lance has no defense for the commander. “It will be dealt with. Well done, though. He should respect you from now on.”

Keith smiles, a little proud of himself. Apparently being a prince means occasionally terrorizing people. He can do that much. “Why doesn’t he respect you?”

“Because I have ensured it.”

Keith notices the hard edge to Lance jaw, chooses not to make any more comments. It must be part of his performance. Instead, he elects to distract the Altean with the first thing that comes to mind. It seems like the spousal thing to do. “So... the bugs in the garden. They’re called buzzlemoths?”

Lance chuckles. “ Bumblemoths. Why?”

“I like them. They’re nice. They don’t bite. At least, not a lot.”

“Things on Daibazaal bite?”

“Most things on Daibazaal bite. Especially the children.” Keith grins, revealing those sharp teeth. Lance laughs. It occurs to Keith that he prefers Lance this way, without the kohl and the paints and all the gold. He still has a few piercings, and a single cuff with chains, but he appears less like an object and more like a person.

A relatively friendly person at that.

“I’m not surprised. Biting seems to be something all small creatures do. Altean infants go through a strictly carnivorous phase, and lose three sets of teeth.”

“Only three?”

Lance stops, turns to his spouse in bafflement. “What do you mean only ?!”

“Try six.”

“SIX?!”

[corpse--diem]

Organ’s Out Of The Bag | Morgan & Erin

Summary: Morgan interrupts Erin at work, eats her organs, and learns about the family trade.  When: Week of 5/4 Featuring: @mor-beck-more-problems​

There wasn’t a “How To Operate An Illegal Organ Trafficking Business For Dummies” book to help Erin work out the best system for organizing and storing frozen organs. Shocker. Buying a second industrial cooler would have been as expensive as it was suspicious, which made trial and error the only real option. It was tedious, and there was probably still a better way, but she’d found her groove. Hollowed, block-like shelving units had been attached to the far end of the wall. Other items were stored on top but she could lift the face of each one, almost like a locker, to fill and empty as needed. Only she knew where the latches were and only she could open it. A small feat, sure, but you had to take your wins where you could get them. Maybe she was finally getting the hang of this? That was a thought that should have sat more uncomfortably on her mind or deterred the smirk on her lips. If she had a spare moment at all, it wasn’t for that kind of introspection. 

With her music loud and her focus set, she made quick work of it. Saran Wrap, label, and onto the next. Just another Tuesday. One more load to go and she could break for dinner. A figure filled the doorway when she turned, startling her backwards while some instinctive part of her reached for the knife in her back pocket. “Jesus Christ, Morgan…” she huffed out, freezing before she pulled out the blade. “You scared the shit out of me. What—“ she narrowed her eyes, her panic doubling in that moment. “You’re not allowed down here.”

After the video incident, Morgan hadn’t expected Erin to be someone who was okay with hanging out with her newly dead and only semi-feeling self. But aside from the body horror, Erin thought she was ‘cool’. Maybe Erin lived with death in a way that kept her from feeling it. Maybe it wasn’t a tar pit for her. Maybe it didn’t even pull, but could just...sit its ass down and let her be. Erin had her life pretty together, right?

Morgan traipsed up the entrance of the Nichols’ house since Erin had said she could just come in, but there was no sign of her, or any life going on in the house. So she turned instead to the lower levels where they had passed through for the ritual. She found her bent over a table with...organs. Bags and bags of organs. Morgan stayed put, hand over her stomach, her mouth watering. At least one of those was a heart, and those were thick enough to remind her of meat sometimes. But there was the whole other question of what they were doing here. Morgan didn’t know a lot about mortuary work, but there were too many different kinds laying around near each other for it to have anything to do with her ‘clients’. And if it wasn’t that, than maybe--

Erin turned just as Morgan reached for a bag of brains and a pair of eyeballs. She smiled, bright and sheepish. “Hi…” She drew out the greeting as long as possible. “We had plans. You said I could come and show you more weird zombie things?” Her gaze slid sideways to the table. Stars, it all looked so good. “I knocked, you didn’t answer,” she went onto explain, popping one of the eyeballs in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “And since I already knew my way around…” She shrugged and swallowed the eyeball, popped the other one into her mouth, doing her damnedest to savor it before she stuffed the whole table into her mouth. “So, anyway, what’s with all the random dead organs on your table?”

Fuck. Erin had completely forgotten about their plans. Not that she wasn’t excited for some extreme body horror and manipulation. Between the lack of sleep, the mimes lurking around every corner, and maintaining her day and night jobs, things were slipping through the cracks. “Sorry,” she shook her head, moving to turn the music off. “I got caught up in--” she started to explain, until she was watching Morgan pop an eyeball into her mouth like she was sampling an appetizer. It wasn’t bad enough that Morgan saw the goods, she had to snack on them too. Five minutes in and she was already out a couple hundred bucks. This was off to a hell of a start. “Stop that!” She ran for the table, collecting the rest of the saran-wrapped organs in her arms. Fuck. Fuck. “I was about to put them away,” she answered, aware that it was more of a nonanswer. “They’re not hors d'oeuvres so can you just--try to refrain?” She huffed, moving to the freezer. Glanced back, unable to feel just a little uncomfortable at the thought of being alone with an apparently snacky zombie. “I thought you just were into brains, anyway?”

Morgan backed away from the table, frowning as she cradled her snacks to her chest. “This is me trying!” She whined, mouth still half full. This wasn’t a good time to wonder if whatever species this had come from actually tasted better than the rabbit eyes she normally had, but the pull in her, the wanting, was so much she closed her eyes to enjoy the last gummy chunks sliding down her throat as she finished it off. “Um, so, funny story? Brains make my world go round, but dead bodies and viscera are like...well I never did even soft drugs when I was alive, but I can’t help myself. I’ve stuck my face straight into a dead baby deer. It’s like true love...in uh, you know, gross...foodie sort of way.” She swallowed the last of the eyeball, feeling embarrassed. Then she remembered that Erin was the one with the zombie buffet on her table. “You never answered my question. What are you doing with the zombie buffet on your table? This doesn’t look all that much like Funeral Director of the Year stuff.” She opened the brain bag and started to munch on that next.

Erin couldn’t help but stare with vague fascination as she watched Morgan explain herself, chewing on a half eaten eyeball. “I’ll try to remember that next time, then,” she winced a little, watching her money go right down Morgan’s throat. Nothing that could be done about it now, anyway. Flustered a little at the question, realizing Morgan wasn’t about to let up. “Well--I was saving that one for you anyway so, please. Enjoy,” she nodded towards the human brain she was already feasting on. A little sarcastic considering she was helping herself again but more genuine than not. Fuck. This wasn’t at all how she’d anticipated this little visit to go. With a long sigh, she pulled her rubber gloves off. “It’s--complicated,” she said hurriedly, clearing her throat. Had she ever actually straight up told anyone about this? Nic, Marley--hell, even Nell just knew. No explanations had been necessary. “And I’m a damn good funeral director. This doesn’t change that.” Her fingers tapped on the silver table and she eyed her carefully. “If I tell you, this stays between us, right?” Morgan was smart enough to probably figure it out at this point, but the assurance didn’t hurt.

Morgan continued to frown, miffed that she was on the pointy end of the sarcasm stick when she had been asked to come. What was she supposed to do, stay at the door all night and go home sad? But Erin seemed frazzled beyond being interrupted. Morgan’s dig at her above-board job proved that too. Morgan was even beginning to feel bad. She tilted her head, trying to get a better read on Erin. “I’m a zombie, Erin. I know all about awkward secrets to keep.” She started to edge closer, plucking a chunk of brain matter off to chew on. And, holy shit, she had to know how long this one had been left sitting and at what temperature, because it made her taste buds melt like burgers used to--but there were more important things to deal with. Erin had some kind of organ stockpiling problem, and maybe a ‘oops my friend knows I’m into some weird, sketchy looking shit’ problem. “If it helps, it looks like you’re running some kind of under the table organ pantry. So either I’m right, and I just made your job easier for you, or I’m wrong, and you have even more reason to correct me. But...you just saw me eat eyeballs and I used to sell people shiny rocks I transmuted out of garbage. I’m really not gonna judge.”

Erin chewed on the inside of her lip as Morgan spoke. Yep. Of course she figured it out. What the fuck else was a mortician doing with a bunch of unlabeled organs saran wrapped in the embalming room? All signs pointed to shady. This was entirely her fault, which bothered her the most about this whole thing. She fucked up. Forgot their plans. Something had to give, eventually. It was bound to. Juggling businesses, murderous mimes and actively trying to not be a shitty friend was a dangerous game. But she trusted Morgan, as much as that was worth. Had to, considering how calmly she was chewing on Mr. “Mr. Reid’s dearly departed brain, after taking out his eyeballs in less than five minutes flat. “Organ harvesting and trafficking, actually,” she corrected her, taking a deep breath after she said the words out loud. Just rip the bandaid off, right? Felt wrong on her tongue for more reasons than she cared to think about. “It’s--” she shook her head, glancing down at the table again for a moment, then forced herself to stare back up at Morgan. Fingers thrumming against the table again, her nerves alight. “My dad got into it before I took the business over and I got stuck with it because he couldn’t handle it. Please believe me when I say this isn’t something I ever wanted.”

Oh. Oh, this was something serious. Was Morgan still a person who knew how to take on serious things with new people? She was feeling okay today. Sort of float-y in a way that made a distant part of her worried, but she wasn’t tired. Not like she was on other days. But this whole—thing Erin was tearsely explaining wasn’t something looked suddenly less like a dirty secret and more like a two ton brick she’d been hauling for too long. Morgan could at least understand that feeling, even if the rest of the situation confused her. “Shit,” she said. “That explains some of the vague trauma you mentioned. I can’t even imagine…” She stepped closer, more confident now that she wasn’t in trouble, “Can ask if—I mean, is it going well? Are you...going to be okay?”

Relief came with the confession like an exhale. A momentary reprieve to that tension knotting in her chest for months now. The inhale felt just as horrible as it always had. The knot settled back where it knew it belonged in Erin’s chest. Morgan wouldn’t judge. She wouldn’t rat her out. But there was something unsafe about having it out in the open like this. A little bit of control was gone and that almost felt worse than the deed itself. “Good as it can be, I guess? It was a little rocky at first but--I’m getting there.” She tossed on a smile, raising a brow at Morgan. “Don’t worry about it. Just try not to eat my merchandise? Those eyeballs you demolished set me back a couple hundred dollars,” she teased, a chuckle in her voice to hide the very real pain there. Dale was a good scapegoat for that kind of thing anyway--the big oaf was as heavy handed as they came. She leaned against the table, glancing between the brain in her hands and Morgan’s gaze. “Is… that your first human brain?”

“Oh. Oh, shit!” Morgan cried, face dropping with dismay. “I really couldn’t help it. That’s not just like, me being weird. I can probably get Deirdre to reimburse you? I don’t have to mention the eyeballs, or the brain, if you don’t want, but I uh...don’t think she’d mind it either.” It was a little too late with the brain, so Morgan took a sheepish dip back into the bag to pull off another chunk. It was halfway up to her mouth when Erin said the word human. Morgan looked down at the brain again. “Oh,” she said, voice squeaking. “So that’s why it tastes so good.” She continued to stare at the brain. From the size of it, she probably should’ve known it wasn’t just some deer. But holy shit. You’d think there’d be fanfare or at least a good shock of agony over baby’s first lite cannibalism. But it had just been a really yummy brain, no more interesting than another until she’d tasted it. “Uh...yeah. If that’s what this is...yeah.” Was it bad, that it didn’t mean anything to her? That the only thought she’d had was how yummy? Sure, deer and raccoon and cow brain were nice. But this was steak. Or cheesecake. For all that it looked the same, the taste was enough to have let her feel good about something while she’d chewed. Then another question came to her. “Not to be gross, but are these...was this…” she jiggled the bag in her hand. “...One of your clients?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Erin finally gave a genuine laugh, shaking her head. Was that one of those zombie quirks? Like how amputated body parts turned to goo? “I actually really was saving that brain for you.” She had to admit, she was a little surprised at Morgan’s hesitation. This was a funeral home. No way she could’ve thought animal brains were more readily available than an actual human’s. Didn’t deter her, she noted, when her fingers dipped back into the bag. “Well,” she said, starting to pull off her blue scrubs, raising a brow. “My clients have some organs to spare. Waste not, want not?” She offered with a shrug. It was more difficult than she anticipated to keep her eyes off of Morgan. She looked the same, and if it wasn’t for the brain food she was gobbling down, it would’ve been impossible to see anything different about her. But she was eating a human brain. She knew what happened to some of the parts that left her basement, but this was the first time she’d witnessed it first hand. “Doesn’t bother you, does it?” Another pause as she tried not to overtly stare anymore. “You know, I swear I didn’t invite you over for this but--if that’s something you think you’d want on a regular basis, I can definitely help you out.”

Morgan looked down at the brain. She was still waiting for the horror to set in, but mostly she was worried what Remmy would say, or Deirdre. She’d only given her animal brains so far, not even an offer or a suggestion of anything else. They wouldn’t blame her for an accident, but liking it, enjoying it---Morgan saw herself split and cracked between two lenses. One monstrous, one that simply was. ‘Don’t eat the humans’ was the number one thing she heard from hunter types. It was even a question she remembered asking herself. Do they eat people? Do they hurt people? As if it made them inherently better, safer, if the answer was “right.” But here she was, some poor guy’s insides already in her stomach. And as much as she was troubled, it took effort to maintain. “B-bother?” She asked. Shrugged. “Does it bother you? You seem pretty chill with me eating in front of you, all things considered. I mean, would you really….supply that sort of thing? For me?”

There was some kind of internal struggle going on behind Morgan’s eyes. Was this weird for her too? She’d been snacking on them like Erin was going out of business. “I don’t know, maybe I should be more bothered,” she shrugged, running a hand through her hair. “But I fished them out of the guy, you know?” Maybe it was like how a butcher didn’t have any trouble selling even the most obscure parts of the cow. In this case, she was simply more familiar with the human body. “Doesn’t bother me,” she confirmed, giving her a smile to cement that. “Brains are a little more expensive, just so you know. But yeah. This is what I do. It wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

“You...did all this yourself? And the guy still looked like himself at the end? With the--” Morgan motioned to her skull. “I’m usually in a weird...zombie haze whenever I’m eating out in the wild, so things like being careful don’t really make it into the thought process. But...bones are hard. If you get it really wrong, you get a bunch of gross pointy bits in the food. Worse than eggshells in your fried rice. What do you do to get to the stuff and humpty-dumpty them back together?” But something else snagged her mind more than her curiosity, pulling her back. “You really mean it? About the not weird and the...supply? Just, you know, for sometimes? Really?” She wondered how expensive Erin was talking here.

“The brain’s usually always taken out during an autopsy, along with the rest of the organs.” Erin explained. “They all get tossed into the visceral bag, which then gets tucked into the stomach cavity. Makes my job easier because then all I have to do is take them out and pack them up.” This would make the whole process way slower and harder if she had to go in every time and dissect them herself, she knew that much. Her brows furrowed at the thought of Morgan out there in the woods, running around and crushing animal skulls. “Yeah, I mean it. Can’t have you out there chasing after squirrels or whatever all the time, right?” Wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. She shrugged. “My boss usually likes to charge a higher fee but I don’t mind cutting costs. For friends,” she smiled.

“Oh, wow. That’s...one way to do it.” Morgan realized with unsettling clarity that she had never thought of the mechanics of death before. When she had lost her parents and her friends, she had been too wrapped up in the loss and unfairness of it to remember there was something practical, even mechanical to death. Even in humans, with the rituals and the preservation that kept the flies and maggots at bay, there was something. A process detached from all that they had meant before the last breath went out. It wasn’t bad, or hurtful, it was simply...after. Morgan came out of her thought to look at Erin, steeped her whole life in this strange, thankless care. It was essential, even as it rattled and stung the rest of the world, her clients. She didn’t even have much of a chip on her shoulder about it, she just continued, and found a way to make “after” work for other people too. Well, maybe not “found,” but she was still at it. And now that the shock of discovery had worn off, she didn’t seem that ashamed about it. A rush of endearment filled her and she ran to Erin, brain still jiggling in the bag and pulled her into a crushing hug. “Thank you, Erin,” she said. “You’re a really good friend, you know that?” She lingered there a moment, trying to fix words to how...fine all of this seemed. Not normal, they wouldn’t be hiding in a basement if it was normal, but fine. She pulled away, backing up to hop on the table, taking another handful of brain. “You wouldn’t have heard from somewhere about how human brains taste, would you? I feel weirdly like...playing board games. And listening to the radio. Like there’s a hockey game on? I don’t like hockey, but if you know where to put one on--” She gave a thumbs up and took another bite of brain. “But, also, I’ve lost my foot like twice this week. If you wanted to check out weird things my bones can do still.”

Erin looked up just in time to brace herself for the shorter woman hurling herself at her. “Oh, you’re--,” she huffed out a laugh, genuinely struggling to catch her breath. For a moment it felt like she had just ran into a wall with arms. “You’re welcome,” she finished, briefly wrapping her arms around her. Morgan was a lot of things Erin was still trying to properly grasp, but she was a good one. Chaotic, but good. That much she did know. She held her hand to her chest when Morgan pulled away, laughing despite herself. “I’ve never thought to ask,” she answered honestly, leaning against the same table Morgan was perched on. “How does it taste?” When she started to prattle on more questions, things so specific to the man in the ziploc bag in her hands, she couldn’t help but stop in her tracks. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly craving a tall, crisp IPA now too?” She asked, glancing back and forth between Morgan and the bag. His widower had carried on about the man’s favorite things to her just that morning before crying into her shoulder. “You don’t mean you’ve literally lost your foot, right?” As soon as she asked the question, she couldn’t help but realize how very wrong she probably was.

Morgan shrugged. “Rich. Like, a good medium-rare burger. Or like, cheesecake? It’s good. Rich. My mouth is literally watering eating it.” She took another bite. “Ew, IPA? No, I mean, I can’t taste anything anymore, but I came from Houston, and our beer culture is way to evolved for an IPA. Are you saying--” She eyed the brain pointedly. “I actually kinda know Mr. What’s-his-name? When I eat him?” She shrugged, a little uncomfortable. Having real, meaningful parts of people in her head wasn’t something she was sure she liked. But stars, whats-his-name tasted good. “Ooh, but actually, I did mean literally.” She kicked off her flats and wiggled her bare toes. “I don’t have anything to break them with, but if you got anything fancy in here, you can knock yourself out. Like--” She pressed them against a chair leg, more and more until they crumbled and bent over in a way toes normally shouldn’t. It was a satisfying sting of pain. She flexed them again and they righted themselves before both their eyes, only a little dislocated, really. She smiled up at Erin, kicking her legs with a little satisfaction. “I mean, when I ran into this scary eye-hands critter, I just lost the whole thing. And with the killer clams. But we’re good as new now!” She looked around the room for wherever Erin kept her music. “I do kinda mean it about hockey though.”

“Mr. Reid drank IPA’s,” Erin corrected, a slow smirk on her lips as she watched her. She didn’t have any particular thoughts about beer. Beer was beer. Some of it was good, some of it was bad, but it all got the job done in the end. She couldn’t help but stare as Morgan seemed to crush her toes, then flexed them back into shape again. “Whoa,” she said in genuine amazement. An idea sparked and she turned, digging into one of the cabinets. “Yeah, over there,” she said, pointing towards a radio across the room. She pulled out one of her biggest, thickest trocars. This wouldn’t hurt her right? Erin smiled, raising a brow. “Hey--can I try something?”

[voidendron]

Story Time

One-Shot, 2′327 Words Star Wars AU

(( the formatting got fucky and hard to read for mobile, can’t get it to fix itself, so reposting as a text post instead of answer in an attempt to get it to work.

set later than previous SW fics where they actually like. can stand each other. it ended up WAY longer than I anticipated, but So. Worth it. It was a lot of fun :D ))

Warnings: Alcohol, Drunkenness (mild), Swearing Characters: Chase Brody, Jackieboy Man, Jameson Jackson, Marvin the Magnificent, Dr. Schneeplestein, Septic Eye Sam

Chase had dropped off a pretty large shipment earlier, which left the cargo bay of his ship with plenty of room. With an empty crate acting as a makeshift table, they all sat around it, some with more distance between them than others. It had been Chase’s idea, because of course it had been.

Jackie was looking at his drink skeptically (probably wondering if Chase had come by it legally or not) while Sam pouted at the fact Marvin wouldn’t let them have any. …Which was funny considering that, while they were the youngest there, they were as much an adult as the rest of them. Jameson had waved off the offer, not wanting to remove his vocoder—vocabulator?—whatever it was; Chase had heard multiple names used for the things.

Chase might have been a little tipsy at that point and he could feel Schneep eyeing him. He was watching himself, though, and at least his astromech could pilot while he was unable.

“Anyway,” the Bothan said as he threw a hand up, “that’s how I accidentally pissed off a governor and got an assassin sent after me!”

Marvin made a noise akin to some sort of hissing laugh. “I think I’ve got more questions than I started with.”

“Yeah…” Jackie took a testing sip of his drink as he leaned back against an empty pallet. “What was that part about getting stuck in the wrong vent again?”

“Doesn’t matter—my time’s up! Who can one-up that?” Chase pulled his best rendition of a grin that he could with a snout full of sharp teeth.

“Eh, I’ll give it a shot.” Marvin adjusted his legs and patted his helmet to make sure it was still resting at his thigh. “This was back when Sami was a teenager, but… Heh. You remember that Acklay?”

The younger Mandalorian immediately perked up and started grinning. “You told that story for weeks after!”

“Hey, that’s where I earned my signet—‘course I’d keep telling it!”

“Acklay…” Jackie rubbed at his chin. “You mean those freaky six-legged buggers that try to spear ya?”

Marvin grinned; his feline fangs were even sharper than Chase’s and glinted in the light from overhead. “Oh, yeah. And those legs are sharp, dammit.” He traced a line over his breastplate up to his shoulder and added, “Got a nasty scar here from it, and proud of it!”

“So what about the Acklay?” Schneep actually…tilted his head a little. God was he expressive for a droid.

“All right. Let’s see if this one-ups Chase’s ship-crash of an experience, huh?” He took a swig of his drink, then settled back comfortably. “I did a lot of our clan’s supply runs—especially if it was into dangerous territory. I had to go to Felucia for some plant. Not a botanist, so don’t remember what it was or what it was used for, but whatever. We needed it and that’s all you need to know about that.

“So, I was searching for this plant, watching my back for dangerous fauna, and then I heard it.” He gnashed his teeth together, making poor Sami jump at the noise. “It was above me, on one of the…root-things all over the place. Just watching me. And the thing was huge. I’d only seen them from a distance until that point, but one good strike would’ve speared one of its legs straight through me.

“When it shifted, the entire root creaked under it. It must’ve been waiting there long before I got there ‘cause there was no way I wouldn’t have heard it walk up there.” He muttered something in Mando’a and chuckled to himself. “So I did what any impulsive Mandalorian would do and started shooting at it.”

Jameson startled Chase—as well as some of the others by the looks of it—when he suddenly piped in. He hadn’t expected the guy to actually listen enough to contribute. “Acklays have exoskeletons. A blaster such as you carry would do little.”

Marvin frowned a little at Jameson, but at least he wasn’t baring his teeth this time. For once? “Yeah. And I remembered that fact only when it lumbered off the damn root and nearly speared me under it.

“That was back before I got my jetpack, and carried a vibroblade instead of my electrostaff.” He patted said weapon where it laid next to him. “So I was stuck on the ground with somethin’ a whole lot faster than me, with more reach, and those fuckers are scary agile, too. I was alone with the only things I’d have a chance with being a few grenades and my blade.”

Jackie arched a brow. “…You say that like ‘a few’ grenades are just a casual thing.”

“Well, yeah. Mandalorians are usually armed to the teeth.”

“Fangs,” Chase corrected with a chuckle. “’Cause you’re a Cathar, so you’ve got fangs.”

Marvin just snorted. “Someone get him to bed—”

“—I’m not that drunk—!”

“—Anyway. So I’ve got this Acklay that’s way bigger than me trying to knock me over, spear me, chomp me, whatever it can. It broke some of my straps, so I was left without a breastplate or right pauldron, lost one of my blasters, I’m dragging my sash in my hands since that got cut, too, and I really wanted to keep my grenades with me, all while I’m trying not to let this thing make a meal of me and it’s screeching in my ear.

“So I’m trying to duck around plants and dive for areas it can’t fit, but it just plows through or destroys them to leave me floundering for a new spot. I can see my ship, but this thing’s driving me farther and farther from it, then I trip, and all I see is one of its legs poised to impale me. I roll, but it still catches me,” he traces the line on his chest again, “so now I’m bleeding, can’t move one arm, and this thing reaches down to chomp me, catches my other pauldron instead and pulls it off so I scramble to my feet.

“I’m covered in mud and pollen and my own blood, my visor’s so filthy I can barely see. I pull a grenade off my sash and activate it, ‘cause at that point I’m thinking I’m about to die and I’m desperate. So I throw the fucker, and the Acklay snatches it out of the air and swallows it.

“Boom. I watched the thing get blown apart, grabbed my stuff and the plant after looking around for it again, and beelined it for my ship.”

Sam shook their head and grinned. “When he got back to camp he was a mess. He was dragging the armor that was pulled off by its straps and had his arm against his chest. His collar bone had been broken and he didn’t even sling his arm! The medical droid scolded him so bad. And the first thing he does? Pull off his helmet, grin a huge grin, and give the plant to our leader all proud of himself!”

“Hey, I had a right to be proud!” Marvin turned to show the marks on his pauldron; sure enough, it was an Acklay head. “That’s how I earned my signet!”

“…Damn.” Chase shook his head. “I’ve heard those things can kill groups of trained soldiers if they’re caught off guard.”

“Impressive,” Schneep agreed. “Very impressive!”

“So. Anyone wanna one-up that?” the Cathar challenged.

Jackie shook his head. “I thought I had a story. No way it tops that.”

“Let’s hear it anyway!” Chase said.

“Yes, please,” the droid agreed.

“Eh. Well.” He rubbed the back of his head. In the dimmed light of the cargo bay, it was almost eerie the way his red eyes glowed as he cast them around the room. “I was in my Y-Wing when Vader joined a battle?”

Chase choked on his drink and was left coughing for a solid thirty seconds. “You survived an encounter with him?!”

“I spotted his TIE from a distance, but it didn’t really…register? that it looked a little different from the rest? Soon as my squad leader saw it, I swear I was gonna go deaf. She flipped. Out. Ordering the squad to retreat immediately. It was right about then that a star destroyer came outta hyperspace.

“We knew that was it. We didn’t have a chance of winning that battle, so we fell back in the hopes of not losing multiple squads.” Jackie frowned. “Half my squad was killed—all good men, friends—when Vader showed up. Pretty sure he’s the one who got to ‘em. I’d never been so terrified.  Heh. And I never even got close to it—just saw it on the other side of the battle. Even now, I don’t think anything’s scared me so damn bad as seein’ that one TIE.

“I wouldn’t fly for days after that, and none of us would shut up about seeing it. We didn’t win that battle, but surviving that sorta encounter at least deserves some bragging rights. Right?”

“Wow!” Sam leaned forward, hands on their knees. “I’ve only ever heard stories of him, but that sounds scary!” They were…grinning, as they said it. Of course they were, Chase thought with a chuckle. He swore those two Mandalorians were addicted to danger. Maybe he was a little, too, but hey.

“Okay, we’ve got a game goin’ now,” Jackie said. “Someone’s gotta go next.”

Schneep shuffled awkwardly, then offered, “I was stolen by pirates?”

“Hey, now.” The Chiss frowned despite the story he’d just told. “We rescued you. Can’t hold that over our heads forever.”

“Oh, no, no!” He put up his hands, shook his head. “You saved me from the third time! But I’ve been stolen before.”

“…Third time?”

“By pirates, yes.”

“That implies you’ve been stolen by things other than pirates, too,” Marvin muttered with a huffed laugh.

“Dude,” Chase grinned, “you’ve got tell us about the first time. Or second—whichever’s more interesting. Please?”

The arms set into Schneep’s back for more fine-tuned work shifted and clattered and his eyes brightened a bit. Maybe he couldn’t make facial expressions, but he had other ways of showing how he felt. It was frankly adorable how expressive he actually was.

“This happened during the Clone Wars. I was a Republic medical droid—”

“I…had forgotten how old you were,” Jameson said.

Jackie scoffed. “You forgot something? You’ve got like. A literal computer attached to your head.”

“It didn’t seem like important information, so I disregarded it.”

“Guys,” Chase scolded, “don’t interrupt him.”

His extra arms fidgeted even as he tried to remain still. “I had been stationed at a small outpost to tend to the Clones there. It was too small and not well-defended—in a very bad location, as well. Very bad planning overall. That is what I was told. Pirates were able to overwhelm it.

“They took hostages, stole the droids and supplies, and fled back to their ship before reinforcements arrived.” He put his hands on his hips like he was disappointed, but also chuckled. “They tried to short me out! But they shocked themselves instead—is very funny to remember. They cursed and jumped around while their little machine zipped and zapped. The astromechs they stole found it hilarious and would not stop chittering!”

Chase laughed. That seemed to make Schneep a little more confident—he wasn’t used to talking so much about himself, it was clear, but the Bothan hoped he would start loosening up like this more often.

“The pirates were incompetent. They overwhelmed the outpost with sheer number and firepower, but I swear, far dumber than a battle droid. The Clones complimented one with insults—right to his face!—and he took it as genuine!

“They floundered around each other like the fish out of water! One accidentally released one of the Clones and the poor man was so confused that he just sat there waiting to be cuffed again, and another nearly shot his buddy while cleaning a blaster and having it go off. It was maddening! They wanted to sell us droids and ransom the Clones, but the truly frustrating part was watching them all be the idiots! I do not even think we were worried for our own well-being they were so nonsensical!”

Most of them were laughing, now. Even Jameson had his head tilted like he just couldn’t make sense of pirates. One of the lights on his AJ^6 was even blinking very, very slowly.

“Dude.” It took Chase a couple tries to actually get any proper words out through snickers, “I’m actually afraid of the answer, but… How badly did you embarrass them to get away?”

The droid cupped his hands over his face and laughed again. “The Clones tricked them into undoing their binds, but they were still locked in the cell. So the astromechs—they ambushed a pirate and stole the key from him!”

“Oh, god. Did they not know how freaking feisty mechs can be?! You don’t tick them off—‘specially not a group of ‘em!”

“Apparently not! They zipped and zapped and pinched until they got the key and released the Clones, and then they took over the ship! The pirates were locked out of the cockpit and the mechs found us the nearest Republic fleet. We all had such a hard time believing it actually happened—and no one would believe us! They could not believe someone could possibly be that incompetent!”

Sami looked like they were having a hard time breathing they were laughing so hard, and both Jackie and Marvin had covered their faces.

“…I think Schneep wins for most entertaining story,” Chase suggested. The others only nodded. “Unless Jameson..?”

“I have nothing interesting to tell.”

“…Oh-kay. Our dear droid with the freakin’ comedy gold of dumb pirate stories wins.”

Schneep clasped his hands together, something in his chest chirping.

[greenninjagal-blog]

White Lily Guardian (pt2)

Summary: Virgil shows up at a funeral for his distance cousin, but someone forgot to tell him Remy named him the next-in-line guardian of his son Thomas. And taking care of a kid might just been the least of Virgil’s problems when Thomas’s (unpleasant) grandmother is in the mix.

Words: 3035

Part One

Featuring: Virgil, kid!Thomas, Emile Picani, and mentions of the dreaded dragon witch and best dad!remy (along with a car crash)

Taglist: @background-noise-headache @prplzorua @pumpkinminette @puns-and-patton 

General Taglist: @felicianoromano @jemthebookworm

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Picani says, with a hint was resentment in his tone, about an hour after Madam Hydrus had removed herself from the property.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, but he agrees with the older man so much its nearly overwhelming. His mind is alarmingly quiet, his shoulders hunched in anticipation for the onslaught of pure, unadulterated panic he knows is coming: it feels a lot like he’s walking right next to a cliffside with a blindfold on—why is he doing this, why can’t he just take the blind fold off, why can’t he just walk away? Or better yet, why can’t he just fall already?

Then Picani will see that he is unfit to be a parent and he’ll be able to move Thomas to the next family member Remy picked out, someone who isn’t that awful snakelike lady that had made Thomas cry so hard. Thomas doesn’t deserve this, any of it.

He didn’t deserve to have his father taken away so suddenly, to have all these people look down on him with pity, to have someone who terrifies him very nearly take him away. He certainly doesn’t deserve to have someone as awful as Virgil come through and try to make up for everything he lost.

Virgil doesn’t even know what kind of person Remy was, much less what kind of dad. Was he the kind that wanted to be involved in every aspect of Thomas’s life? Did he bake cookies in the kitchen and show up to the PTA meetings and brag about how amazing Thomas was until every other parent hated him? Or was he a recluse? Did he let Thomas come to him with questions rather than go asking for them and never respond to teacher emails or show up to meetings because he knew everything that was important about Thomas already?

Virgil looks down at Thomas, who was tucked into his chest. Virgil is by no means the type of guy who works out, but even then, he can still carry Thomas from the front lawn into the house with only a mild amount of strain (Did Remy carry him like that? Oh, fuck, what if he was carrying the kid wrong?). The house is strangely quiet, and tense and the same feeling settles over them like a knife poised just between Virgil’s shoulder blades. Even Thomas’s sobs become breathless hiccups. Picani motions Virgil to follow him up the stairs and he’s struck by the strange amount of familiarity that the man has for this place.

Who was he again?

A lawyer of some sort? Someone who had access to Remy’s will at least.

Virgil doesn’t remember the upstairs of the house, which is really no surprise. He’d never dare exploring a house that wasn’t his even as an adult. There was something about it that his shoulders tense, waiting for someone to pop out of the rooms and ask him what he was doing. Even with Picani leading the way and Thomas in his arms, Virgil could feel the walls judging him.

There are pictures on the walls, but Picani doesn’t bother turning on the lights and its too dark to see what they are. Somehow that doesn’t help Virgil’s anxiety much.

They come to a room which Picani pushes open and turns on the light. Virgil hesitates to follow. He’s not sure why, because the room is far more inviting than the dark, dreary hallway. Thomas buries his head into Virgil’s shoulder, and it’s a little uncomfortable but he can’t bring himself to complain about it.

Inside the room it’s warm—in all senses of the word. Virgil feels like he stepped into a sauna the second his shoes slip through the doorway. It surprises him, slightly, because he hadn’t realized how cold he was until then. Beside that, its decorated like a kid’s paradise: action figures from several cartoons all over the place—some of which Virgil vaguely remembers from years and years ago with a tiny smile—poster from video games and Disney, and a coffee table had construction papers, glitter, and glue. Picani quickly walks to a rather large wooden desk (decorated in children’s crayon drawings of houses and dogs and blobs that probably meant something to a kid somewhere) and rifles through a stack of papers on the top of it.

When he turns back around, he’s holding a packet of papers that makes Virgil’s insides a little squeamish; it looks like a every instructional manual Virgil has ever been handed. Was this “How To Tell When Someone Is an Unfit Parent for Dummies”? Because Virgil could save them both time and just announce to him that he was the least fit person to be taking care of a kid. He had come to the funeral in a rented suit because he didn’t have one himself, there’s still paint on his knuckles that he couldn’t wash off in time for the service, and he forgets to eat at least twice a day.

Virgil’s childhood was limited to the tabulations of his parents’ moods towards him, but even he knows that he couldn’t take care of a small living human being when he could barely take care of himself most days. It isn’t fair to Thomas.

“Oh, uh,” Picani says, and vaguely motions to a couch that was decorated in handmade quilts, “You can, uh, set him down.”

Virgil feels more than stupid as he shuffles towards the couch and juggles the armful of Thomas that he has in order to set him on the couch. Especially when Thomas doesn’t let go of him and instead tightens his arms around Virgil’s neck.

“Don’t!” Thomas gasps between his hiccups.

“Thomas—” Virgil says softly, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right next to you.”

He shakes with his whole body, and for a long moment Virgil worries that Thomas will never let him go again and they’ll be stuck together like a parasite and it’s host.

“Promise?” Thomas’s voice cracks Virgil’s heart right in half. He can feel the shards of it puncturing his lungs.

“How about this, you can hold my hand while we sit, okay?” Virgil suggests even though his own skin feels feverish and his neck itches where Thomas’s wrists had pressed against him. He can’t remember the last time he let someone touch him (it might have been Remy himself for all he knew).

Thomas’s arms move away, slowly, slowly, and then he buries his head in a blanket before Virgil can even see the tear tracks on his bright red cheeks. Virgil sits down right next to him and its only a second more before pudgy little kid fingers squeeze around his.

Virgil glances up at Picani to find the man watching the two of them with a painful smile. He wipes his eye with the sleeve his dress jacket and resets his glasses with a deep breath.

“I’m really sorry you had to find out this way.” He says again. “Remy was going to contact you this weekend to ask your permission, but he insisted that he needed it written legally sooner than that.”

“Why?” Virgil asks and even he isn’t sure what he means. Why did Remy choose him? Why didn’t Remy tell him sooner? Why did Remy get it legal written down in his will before he asked? Why was Virgil so scared right now?

Picani sighs heavily. He taps two fingers on the packet. “I wish I knew, Mr. Quies.”

Virgil flinches at the use of his last name. He never uses it if he can help it; too many bad memories growing up as part of the Quies family. He never fit in with them, never quite lived up to be anything other than a disappointment for his parents, never enjoyed the way it rolled of so many people’s tongues in a derogatory manner. When he had moved out—and away—he had started using the surname Storm. Virgil Storm sounded better, and it didn’t come with emotional baggage.

Virgil makes a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between clearing it and trying to say something but not knowing what. He glances at Thomas.

“Picani—”

“Emile, actually, if you please,” He says with a wince.

“Emile,” Virgil corrects himself, “I don’t—Remy and I—I can’t….” He twists his bangs out of his face just to do something with his hand. The man in the half lenses waits patiently for Virgil to articulate himself. “I’ve never taken care of a kid.”

Thomas squeezes his hand tightly. Virgil thinks he lost feeling in two fingers, but he doesn’t try move.

“I’m not the best fit for Thomas’s caretaker. I didn’t even know Remy. We talked one time when we were kids. Are you sure it was me on that will and not someone else?”

Emile leans back against his desk, still careful not to crush any of the drawings. “I’m honestly not sure I’m the right person to ask. Remy and I were good friends, but even then we didn’t talk about everything. When he announced that he was changing his will to remove me as Thomas’s next-in-line guardian I thought it was a joke--”

Virgil’s stomach drops out at the comment. He feels sick again, the rolling nausea sweeping over him like a wave. That sounded right—all of it sounded right. Virgil didn’t know why someone would joke about that, but Remy had to have been joking because Emile was a well put together man, who Thomas knew better than he knew Virgil.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t.” Emile continues, much like a wrecking ball to the train of thought in Virgil’s head. It leaves his ears ringing.

“What?”

This time Emile looks at him with those dark eyes, “I love Thomas. I really do. But I can’t be his caretaker. I’d lose him.”

“Lose him?” Virgil repeats, remembering every time his parents had forgotten him at the supermarket or in the mall and the weekends were he just didn’t go home and no one was suspicious of it.

“Yes, um,” He fixes his glasses, “Due to a few infractions of the law in my childhood, I can’t legally adopt a child. I can run a therapist office,” He waves a hand around the room, “but I can’t have one of my own. Especially not Thomas.”

Virgil isn’t entirely unsure of what to make of that comment. First off Emile Picani looks a lot like a single breeze might knock him down, and the way he had shriveled up at the sight of Madam Hydrus wasn’t helping his case. However, he was also admitting that he at some point broke several laws? Laws that prevented him from taking care of a kid?

But this was Thomas.

“Madam Hydrus,” Emile says lightly. He picks up a figurine of Ursula from his desk and considers it. “She is Thomas’s mother’s mother. Extremely high class. Had she found out her daughter and Remy had been a thing back from Thomas’s birth, she undoubtedly would have put a stop to it. Her daughter—Thomas’s mother and Remy’s girlfriend at the time—died in childbirth due to a complication. Remy took it hard. Madam Hydrus took it harder.”

Emile sets the figurine back down. “She has been trying to gain custody of Thomas since his birth, declaring Remy an unfit parent. Every other week she had lawyers harassing them. I’m not sure what Thomas’s mother told Remy about her, but Remy refused to let her see him, refused to leave his son’s side when the woman was anywhere near.

“I believe her intention was to keeping sending lawyers in an attempt to run Remy out of money. When he no longer could support a child the judge would have to rule in her favor. However, Remy was a business major who knew how to maintain and predict the stock market.” Emile pauses, “That’s how we met actually. I asked him to help me learn the stock market. I’m a terrible student. But Remy tried, so hard. He was a good person. He really was. When my landlord kicked me out, he immediately offered me a few spare rooms here as long as I paid rent.”

Virgil nods, the sick feeling in his stomach bubbling. Beside him Thomas shifts again, quiet, oh-so-quiet. The warmth of the room makes his dress shirt collar stick to his neck.

“When Thomas turned three, Remy asked me to take guardianship of Thomas should anything happen to him. He was paranoid that Madam Hydrus would get tired of sending lawyers and might escalate to sending not-so-polite people. He wanted to make sure that if he did pass unexpectedly there would be someone else lined up to take in Thomas that was not Madam Hydrus.”

Virgil tenses, “What?”

“He—”

“Are you saying Madam Hydrus paid someone to kill Remy?” Virgil says. Oh, and there’s the panic: his foot has slipped off the steady edge of the metaphorical cliff and Virgil is free falling to his death. His lungs feel two sizes too small for his chest, and all the oxygen in the world doesn’t seem to be able to fill them. He rips his hand from Thomas’s and claws at his collar, struggles with the tie that is acting as a noose around his neck.

Remy was dead—Remy was dead because Madam Hydrus had him killed. Madam Hydrus was the same woman that Virgil just told off and then announced he would be taking in Thomas. What was stopping her from having him killed? Virgil was going to end up dead. By this time next week Virgil would be decorated with white lilies and people would be standing in his living room talking about how sad it was that he was gone.

“Mr. Quies! Virgil!” Emile is suddenly by kneeling by his side, “Virgil I need you to breathe with me. Breathe—In, yes hold it! Out….”

Virgil’s had panic attacks before. They normally leave him curled in the corner of his apartment with his own nails clawing through his hair, and his chest aching from too short of breaths. It’s another reason why he’s not fit to be a parent, because how can he take care of a kid when he can suddenly shut down like this. What if there was an emergency and Virgil wasn’t able to protect Thomas?

“In….” Emile says again, and Virgil strains to force his lungs to follow the instruction. “hold….Out….”

It takes a few minutes to calm him back down. It feels like hours. Actually the whole day has felt like eternity, drawing on and on and on. Virgil is suddenly aware that Emile in kneeling in front of him, speaking soothing words that mean absolutely nothing to him.

Thomas…

Virgil glances to his left where the kid had been, fully expecting Thomas to have bolted the second Virgil started acting weird. But he didn’t. Thomas is sitting there beside him, watery eyes and a nose fully of snot that he wipes on his arm.

“Dad… does that too,” Thomas says, between the sniffles.

Oh good, Virgil shares exactly one thing with Remy and it’s his panic attacks.

“Thomas,” Emile says quietly, “Can you grab a cup of water?”

Virgil has half a mind to tell them he doesn’t need a cup of water (He needs to have a chat with Remy and ask him what the hell he was thinking), but Thomas is already up and dashing out of the room. Virgil sinks back into the couch.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Quies—”

“Virgil.” He rasps out because the name is causing him to flinch and he doesn’t have the energy to suppress it anymore. “Virgil, or Storm, or anything that isn’t that name.”

“Virgil,” Emile nods like it isn’t weird at all, “That was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention to my words. Madam Hydrus did not so anything…illegal. The police found no sign of foul play. Remy was driving on too little sleep and he slid off the road, into a tree.”

Which Virgil had read all about in the obituaries online during the flight here. Which he knew was the truth. Which didn’t stop the feeling in his gut from twisting over and over like some mutant alien parasite.

“Remy was paranoid,” Emile says with a sad frown, “But he made up his mind. He wanted someone he trusted who didn’t have a record that Madam Hydrus could exploit in court.”

“Am I…the only one?” Virgil asks.

Emile makes a face that tells him the answer. Of course, he is. That’s why they’re having this conversation. That’s why it’s Virgil’s name on the will and not anyone else’s.

“He left you most of his finances,” Emile says, “As long as you agree to take care of Thomas.”

“I am the least fit person to take care of any kid, Emile,” Virgil reiterates because all the money in the world won’t change that fact.

Thomas scoots back into the room, with a bathroom cup of water that he’s trying very hard no to spill. He gives it to Virgil, before climbing up on the couch next to him again. Before Virgil knows what he’s doing he runs his hand through Thomas’s hair, and the kid almost flops into him.

Emile watches the entire thing with a miniscule smile on his lips.

“I beg to differ, Virgil,” He says, “I think you are the most fit person.”

Virgil isn’t sure what it is about the other man, about the room, about Thomas, but sitting there, exhausted out of his mind, he thinks that Emile isn’t entire right (because after all Remy was the best person to take care of his kid), but Virgil might just be willing to try.

“I’ll get in contact with Remy’s lawyers.” Emile promises.

Virgil nods to show that he heard, but all he can really focus on is the softness of Thomas hair and the weight of the kid on his shoulder. He sinks back into the couch.

“You should get some sleep.”

Virgil is way ahead of him.

[iwritethat]

Jason Todd: Should’ve

A/N: The perspective fluctuates a bit so I apologise for that, I should be better by now. Regardless, if you want a P2 lemme know~

Warnings: Cursing probably.

>>>>——————————>

~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~

It was an apprehensive stand off and you thanked your lucky stars that whilst cruising these crime ridden streets on your night off you were smart enough to bring your signature bow and arrows.

Not only that but the scarf shielding you from the chilling breeze was enough to conceal your identity too. Not that it mattered, you were attempting to save a life - a scumbag's life but that still didn't give this psychopath the right to play god regardless of the twin guns pointing at you.

Suddenly a familiar vibrant scarlet dropped in close distance making no move to help you.

"Hey Arse, shoot this psycho already would you?!" Your voice frustratingly called, deadly gaze still focussed on the man aiming at you.

"Who you calling psycho? I'm not the one casually carrying a bow and arrows around in the middle of the night!" The idiot returned with a sarcastic tone.

In the midst of all this, the thing that both yourself and your enemy could agree on was that Roy Harper was laughing to himself.

The ginger jogged over to you, pushing down your weapon with a tip of his cap.

"Chill out (Y/n), he's a friend of mine." Your brother like figure happily stated, the other male in proximity cautiously lowering his guns.

"Way to go Roy, now he knows my name!"

"Wait, Roy you know pretty little Katniss over here?" The helmet heads' comment received a growl from you and you lifted your shot again.

"None of your business bucket head."

"You two are more argumentative than me and (Y/n) ever were, but whatever, as the self proclaimed adult we're going home."

Now it was yours and the strangers turn to burst into hysterics at the common interest of Roy Harper's confident words.

"Oh god, you - the adult?!"

"Yeah right Roy!"

Effortlessly, you folded your bow and disarmed to hug Roy Harper and inform him that you were sticking around town for a while so he better make time to meet you.

"What does Green Arrow think of that?" Arsenal responded in a mocking manner.

Not that he could talk, he was once the famous archers protege too and while you were both under his tutelage, a family like bond was forged even after Roy left. But you stayed - to get better and learn from Canary as well as Arrow so you were a finely tuned machine.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him Harper." You playfully grinned whilst punching him in the shoulder.

Roy should've warned you from the start.

.

As you guessed, your plans weren't classified as normal - they were going to be, coffee, sparring, dinner - but crime got in the way. Throughout the two weeks you found yourself fighting alongside the Outlaws and getting acquainted with them. Well, you knew Roy, and Kor'i was lovely but Jason - the alias under the Red Hood seemed great. Maybe more than great.

At this point you were leaning against a counter in one of their safe houses, this time waiting for Roy so you could seriously catch up over breakfast or archery. Alas, Jason Todd walked out into the kitchen first that morning.

The half of you that justified not getting a crush suddenly fizzled out as soon as your unsuspecting gaze fell upon him - without the helmet, or any fabric covering his torso you thought you were in the presence of a war god with the varying degree of scars decorating his skin. Of course, the beautiful toning of his muscles wasn't all that caught your attention, his chiseled jawline and sparkling eyes certainly added to the breathtaking view just as the peculiar white streak stirred interest. Boy was mesmerising and that smirk he wore was hot too and you relaxed further onto the counter with a sigh escaping you.

"Like what you see?"

So hot that you forgot to tear your eyes away out of curtesy but since you'd been caught, honesty seemed like a charming pathway.

"I do actually, you're definitely something without the mask but I'm not here for you." You pushed yourself up, walking past him toward the dart board and plucked a trio of knives from it.

"You sure 'bout that (Y/n)?"

"Yes. I'm here for Roy, as always." The knife flipped in your hands and you threw it directly at the bullseye.

"What's the deal between you two anyways? Are you dating or...?" Jason inquired, gesturing for you to give him a blade.

"Definitely or, we're not dating. Roy's like a brother to me so if you hurt him I'll have no choice but to kick your ass." Your tone was both defensive and amused as your partner took his shot - also proudly hitting the bullseye.

So you continued your little game until Roy emerged rather sceptically to drag you away quite literally.

Roy should've known from that point, he should've told you to back off. Even after you had finished your miniature vacation, you found yourself working with the Outlaws frequently with only mild suspicion from Arrow regarding your uncanny whereabouts and Roy grew more concerned.

.

Now your brother figure Roy Harper, he picked up on the small things. Usually on missions, he was always the Red Hoods' partner but now Jason strangely kept you as close as possible - he portrayed genuine emotion whenever you were remotely hurt, often skidding to your side with gentle touches before scolding you. Jason was there when Roy couldn't be, and as the missions passed; as you were hanging around a lot more - Roy began to see it.

.

Jason Todd loved you.

.

Arsenal knew his best friend, he understood how Jason didn't believe platonic nor romantic love were any different from each other and that deep down he loved the Outlaws and the Batfamily. But you? It was different.

Dick Grayson fell in love too easily and Roy didn't think Jason was capable of falling in love at all but he could see it slowly happening the more time he spent with you. If the protectiveness and both lingering or unnecessary contact didn't give it away then maybe the consistent flirting or literature puns he threw out simply because they made you smile were signs. One look at your smile and Roy's pretty sure he can ask Jason for anything straight afterward - the convenience of sibling bonds.

However, Roy also knew his best friend well enough to know that he'd never act on it and that as soon as he realised he loved you then he'd push you away with no logical explanation whatsoever. He would claim it was to protect you, that everyone around him always gets hurt but it was a complete contrast to your experiences with him so far. Jason wouldn't let anyone harm you, if they managed such a feat no doubt he'd do anything in his power to help you.

In conclusion, the Red Hood would never make a move on you. Not in a million years.

.

In retrospect Roy should've kicked you out of their current shared hideout, told you to get a hotel before Jason offered up his bed, before you grew close enough to share it out of contentment, before Jason started needing your embrace out of habit when he returned 'home' or calling you when you were absent for a week or more. He should've said something - anything.

.

He's seen it all, anticipating only the worst outcome and the only thing interrupting his thoughts was the incessant pounding on his front door. Guilt stirred in the pit of stomach, a gut feeling that something was very wrong and as soon as he caught your broken figure once the door opened everything made sense.

"Roy..." It was a sob, tears cascading down your face as you buried yourself in his chest with ragged breathing and he wasn't even surprised.

.

"I know (Y/n), I know... I should've told you..."

[callioope]

2019 Favorites

Rules: Time to love ourselves! Choose 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, arts, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2019. Tag as many creators as you want to spread the love!

tagged by the awesome @theputterer​! thank you!

HA, well, TBH I saw this meme going around and I was like oh no if someone tags me I’m not going to have anything to list!

It’s true I barely published anything in 2019 -- only one thing on AO3 -- but I did work on a few unpublished projects. So after some serious scrounging, I thought why not share some sneak peeks at what I’ve got cooking in addition to the few items I did publish!

First, what I actually published:

"I hope my love was someone else’s solid ground”

Firelight flickers across the faces around the campsite and the shadows press a little closer. She’s trying not to stare (to make her staring obvious), but as her gaze sweeps over friends it always settles on him. She keeps measuring the distance, counting the steps past Bodhi and Kay or the other way ‘round, past Baze and Chirrut, to the opposite, furthest corner of tonight’s makeshift home. Always when she finds his eyes, they fall a little farther from her.

She sighs and gets up. Waiting never suited her.

I don’t think an album has ever resonated with me as much as Sara Bareilles’ Amidst the Chaos, or a song as much as “Orpheus.” It’s just perfection. The moment I heard it, I thought of Jyn and Cassian, but this song also feels special to me personally as I’ve struggled with OCD and anxiety and have (finally) been going to therapy for it. It felt cathartic to tell a story about healing through Jyn and Cassian, and I just really loved the prose in this one. I haven’t posted it to AO3 yet because I was thinking about expanding it a little first, and then I never got around to it.

Learning Curve  - Chapter 4: Scarif

“You know,” she says, sliding onto his lap, “there are better ways to show your surrender. If you want me to stop talking about work…” She leans down and demonstrates, and kriff, he tastes like the sunlight dancing on his lips, warm and sweet and happy.

“I love listening to you,” he murmurs when she finally pulls away.

She’s just sitting, safe in his arms, but when he looks at her like that, everything just falls out beneath her, and she closes her eyes and grips his shirt and burrows her head against the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Months ago, when she first stepped foot on the tarmac outside the temple, she’d thought she’d spend a semester and go back to Rudrig, that her life would continue on at its boring, lonely pace, that work would perpetually consume her. She’d never suspected she’d run into Cassian (and thank the Force for that; if she’d known he’d be here, she might not have signed up in the first place, might have preferred to avoid the risk of running into him and facing the embarrassment she’d created all those years ago—and she never would have had the chance to move past it).

She’d had no idea what kind of happiness awaited her, how close a call it had been, how she might never have known the joy of eliciting Cassian’s hard-won smile, the anticipation of an imminent kiss, or the simple satisfaction of quiet companionship and unassuming acceptance.

This took entirely longer than it should have, but I was very glad to finally finish it. It was definitely a lot of fun to imagine a galaxy with no Empire, where Palpatine was defeated before he could enact any of his crueler schemes, and to see what this meant for Jyn and Cassian as well as Lyra and Galen. It was also a challenge -- lots of moving chess pieces to account for -- so thank you to my beta and brainstormer @allatariel​!

I do have a couple regrets: namely, that I didn’t split chapter 4 into two parts (it’s just so long! I suppose I could still split it...) and that I hadn’t watched Rebels yet, so I didn’t get a chance to imagine what kind of life the Ghost crew would have had. Maybe someday? 

The Stakes of Star Wars: whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal

As a writer, I frequently struggle with plot. Is it believable? Is it surprising? Is it exciting? Sometimes, it feels like plot is supposed to be what makes a story interesting. What makes for a cool adventure? The prevailing mindset seems to be: how high can you raise the stakes?

But I think over the last few years of writing, I’ve learned something important about the kinds of stories I want to read, and therefore write.

The stakes are important, but only for what they mean to the character.

It has to be personal.

It’s no secret that I hated TLJ. I wasn’t impressed with TROS, either. I think it’s easy (and, admittedly, cathartic) to point blame at one or the other and to write a laundry list of “things didn’t work for me” (which I did for TLJ -- though I only finished and published part of it). When it came to the final installment, I thought it was more fruitful for me to analyze the core of what didn’t work for me overall. I won’t deny there are things I did love about the sequel trilogy, but as a whole, trilogy-spanning story it really fails for me, and this is my attempt at finding out why.

Now, onto the unpublished projects!!!

Untitled “You’ve Got Mail” AU

Somewhere in a far corner of the Outer Rim, off the far reaches of the Perlemian Trade Route, past Felucia, near the Tion Hegemony, a small planet spins on its axis, and a new day starts.

As the sun rises, it conveys a whole palette of colors: rich reds bleeding into the purple and indigo of the fading night, gold light gleaming over the flat fields of blue-green grass spreading out in all directions.

Nothing stirs but a gentle breeze, racing along the grass like a wave; to the naked eye, this area of the planet remains entirely uninhabited.

And that is the point.

To a careful observer, someone with an eye for it, the grassy flatlands and the gentle rolling hills of Skuhl hide something valuable and just as beautiful as its surface. Such an observer could find it: the narrow crack in the ground; the cramped ten-meter vertical descent into the jagged earth; the winding, sloped passage that eventually blooms into a split-level cavern that might fit a squadron of X-Wing fighters—if they had a way in.

As it is, that cavern houses something else: the Skuhl rebel cell.

And in a little area partitioned off by a series of columns, stalactites, and stalagmites on one side and a makeshift counter, sink, and shelving on the others, Jyn Erso wakes to the sound of the caf machine whirring.

Groaning, she lifts her head from the table and blinks in the soft light of a lantern hanging off the shelf behind her.

“Good morning,” Hadder says, from next to the raucous caf machine. “You’ve got a message.”

AHHH I forgot how much I love this AU. I haven’t opened this in a few months. YEAH, I’ve got some purple prose going there, but I was really trying to imitate the opening of You’ve Got Mail, how it pans down into NYC and such. I got really stuck on this trying to write Jyn and Cassian’s correspondence (the whole point TBH, smh). Otherwise, this is all plotted out (again, thanks to the amazing @allatariel​‘s help) and I just need to write it. Currently has 4,294 words.

Fencing AU (Working title is probably “En Garde”)

Jyn holds a blade for the first time when she is eight years old. It’s shiny and makes a fun clang when she smacks Bodhi’s sword. She’s been watching him from the corner, while she waits for Bodhi’s lesson to finish and for Mama and Papa to pick them up from the YMCA. Saw doesn’t teach children, he already explained. Saw wants serious students. 

So Jyn watches Bodhi stand in front of the mirror covering the far wall and watches him hold his blade in different positions (four, six, seven, eight — she heard Saw name each one). She watches him flick his wrist and smack Saw’s blade (beat, she repeats in her head) and watches him turn his wrist and push Saw’s blade away when he attacks first (parry).

She watches this go on for an hour, and afterwards, when Saw looks away to talk to some of the parents, she knicks a spare blade and a spare mask and dares Bodhi to fight her. 

It doesn’t take long for one of the parents to point her out (adults can never be trusted). But she doesn’t see it at first, too busy stabbing Bodhi, or trying to — she’s sure she’s hit him plenty on his arm, because she’s reenacted that laser sword fight from Space Clash enough times to know how it’s done.

“Jyn,” Saw says behind her, “What are you doing?”

She whirls around, staring up at Saw through the grated black mesh of the mask. He’s looking down at her, arms crossed, and he sounds mad. But she doesn’t look away or back down, even though he’s really tall and sometimes the other kids get scared when he’s angry. (She doesn’t. She’s not scared of anything.)

“Fencing,” she says. 

Saw stares back at her for forever, and she gives back an eternity because she plays this game all the time. She can win.

What she doesn’t know then, but Saw does, is that she will win.

He shakes his head. “Not like that,” Saw says.

“But I can fence,” Jyn says, “I can be serious.”

“Serious fencers,” Saw says, “aim for the heart.”

That stops her next words. She glances at Bodhi for a second, who shrugs, and then back at Saw. 

“Ready?” he says, gesturing for them to continue. “Allez!”

Oh, if I had all the time to write, I would finish this before the Olympics... I guess I still have half a year. Maybe it can still happen!! As it is, I don’t actually have much more of this written (just plotted). I fenced for five years at the local YMCA, plus just a little in college (sadly my university didn’t have a team, so I could only fence when I was able to get back home). I miss it dreadfully. Every now and then I dabble in researching clubs down here to fence, but it is so expensive and time consuming. So much to do! So little time! So I thought I’d just write about it to scratch that itch. Basically the gist is that Jyn is an Olympic fencer, and she fences foil (because that was my weapon and I’m incredibly biased) while Cassian fences epee. Aaaand look at that, now I’m rambling on about fencing. (I’d give y’all lessons if I could, do not get me started) On to the next! 

Nat Geo AU

“You seem quiet,” Cassian says quietly, still reading what she’d refer to as a tentative draft of their piece.

She shrugs.

His eyes flick up to her face just briefly and he misreads the regret on her face. “Do you miss it? Your time with Saw?”

She’s startled into a laugh. “You mean war correspondence?”

His nod is almost imperceivable, but he knows she pays close attention.

“No,” she says, perplexed.

“Not as much action out here.”

He’s worried she’s bored. As if she could be, at his side. “I almost had to wrestle a crocodile for your life yesterday.”

He grants her just the tiniest crook of a smile. “I was safe in the boat.”

“That croc was sizing you up,” she says, thinking of a large crocodile that they’d thought had been resting serenely on the river bank, before it suddenly splashed into the water right next to their boat, towards Cassian’s perch at the railing. “I saw the glint in its eye. I know the look.”

“I’m sure you do.” He snorts. Then he gestures towards her pad, where he’s highlighted a phrase. “This one — for the headline.”

She takes it and reads what he’s chosen. “You know it depends on what Kay likes.”

“He’ll like that one.”

The premise is that Jyn and Cassian work for National Geographic (or rather, Rogue Geographic) and are assigned to cover a conservation project headed by Ezra Bridger and the crew aboard the Ghost. I’ve only managed to write an intro scene about Jyn and Cassian finishing up their previous project (entirely, entirely self-indulgent and based on my honeymoon). I was hoping to finish and publish this in January, buuuut I got way distracted by an epic post-war fic that @allatariel​ and I are working on, which I think we may have started plotting in 2019, though I’m not sure -- and at any rate, the NatGeo brings us to six so you’ll just have to wait for the next word on that ;) 

 WELP THAT’S IT. 

Thanks for reading! 

TAGGING: Anyone who reads this and wants to do it. Yeah, you. You who were hoping you got tagged? I’m tagging you. You’re it!

[tiberiusmadhouse]

@thelittlesovietpuppet said: “they’re gonna catch us—” ( - war era!Steve )

     The thought had occurred to him, once. But then he’d weighed the chance of getting caught against the chance that this may be the last time they got to do this. After that rather short pros and cons list, the choice had been damned easy. Of course it had been the same pros and cons list for the last couple months, it was just a question as to what the background noise was. Sometimes it was the wind through the branches of sleeping trees, and sometimes it was the sounds of men writhing in pain when the laudanum wasn’t enough. He could understand the concern, but felt it was worth the risk.

“Then maybe you should keep your damned voice down, Buck.’ Steve muttered as he yanked impatiently at his belt, finally managing to get it undone, and working on the fastening of his slacks. 

     So few moments presented themselves, less with each passing day as he tried to juggle tracking HYDRA maneuvers and planning them. It was a wonder he hadn’t gone absolutely mad in recent days, and now Bucky wanted to talk him out of the one good thing that was going to come out of this war. One stubborn, smart mouthed, James Buchanon Barnes alive.

“Look, if I could have found us a nice little hotel I would have, but this is what we got.’

     He hadn’t meant to snap, really he hadn’t, hands coming to rest against the bunker wall, feeling one of the shelves digging into his shoulder as he sighed as he let his head hang a moment. They could get caught. And it would be bad, very bad, but he needed this, and he knew Bucky did too. A smile, and a quick friendly punch to the upper arm could only do so much, could only ease so much. Lifting his head, he leaned in and kissed Bucky softly, holding his body off him as he tried to say a million things in the small touch. 

     But it wasn’t enough, slowly pressing closer, one of his hands moving to grip the collar of Bucky’s uniform at the neck as he deepened the kiss. There’d been plenty of stolen kisses and all they’d done was made the yearning worse, the need that coiled deep in his belly practically doubling him over as it tightened. And if he muttered a prayer of thanks that Bucky stopped dragging his heels, Steve felt like he was entitled to it, shifting as Bucky pushed to take control of the kiss. 

     The corner of a shelf hanging from the wall caught the side of his head making him curse, and then again when Bucky chuckled against his lips. Steve was still fuming when Bucky gripped his hip to turn him, shooting a glare over his shoulder and a sharp shh to shut him up as the noise seemed to echo. But he forgot to be angry feeling Bucky’s lips on his neck just under his hairline, or the way his hands tugged at his shirt to pull it loose and dip underneath. If they were back home, in that dingy little apartment the two of them scraped and saved to afford, they’d have time for that, and God did he wish they did. 

“C’mon Buck, stop fuckin’ around.’

     Not that he did anything to stop the way Bucky’s hand slid up his stomach to his sternum, couldn’t help the shiver that ran down the length of his spine as blunt nails dragged over his skin before cupping him through the slacks and squeezing. Teeth digging into his forearm, Steve just managed to stifle the moan that had threatened to escape, hips shifting restlessly. He’d always been impatient, but now? Now he was a mess. 

“Bucky... please?’ Reaching down, he shoved at the waistband of his slacks, snarling a curse when the man behind him pinched an exposed cheek. “First you don’t wanna, now you can’t stop actin’ like we got all the time in the world...’

     Teeth scraped over his skin, a huff escaping him as he opened his mouth to remind Bucky of their time restraint before feeling the tip of a finger sliding between his cheeks and pressing gently. It was slick, but not really enough, Steve trying to force himself to relax, pressing back even as Bucky murmured an apology in his ear. It was fine, he was the one who had pushed for this, and he’d known what that was going to mean, he was still getting what he wanted.

     One finger, two, Steve’s nails digging into his forearms as he swallowed a whine at the burn, knowing that if he sounded uncomfortable, Bucky might stop. So instead he rocked back as Bucky thrust his fingers in, feeling the other’s hand smoothing along his back. Times like these, Steve wondered if Bucky somehow thought he was still the fragile punk that used to talk an awful lot of shit that his body couldn’t cash. Because that wasn’t the case anymore. 

“Put a little spit on it, and let’s go.’ He hissed, feeling Bucky carefully adding a third finger. 

     Prep was important, he knew that. This had been his idea, he knew that too. But both of those things were before it had really filtered through that they could get caught at any second. Steven “Impulsive Chaotic Good” Rogers didn’t always have time to think far ahead when he needed something. Not wanted. A craving could be ignored, but a need? He’d move heaven and earth, and only after all that would he notice the consequences. Biting down on his forearm again as Bucky’s fingers twisted to graze the tips over a bundle of nerves that made Steve want to keen. 

     Licking his palm, Steve wrapped a hand around his cock and started pumping slowly, just enough to feel damned good, but not enough to get anywhere with it. A soft kiss against the nape of his neck made him shiver again, this time in anticipation, spit pooling on his tongue that he let fall into his cupped hand to loosely stroke himself. As he began to pick up the pace, he felt Bucky pull his hand away, the other holding his hip and shifting him slightly before feeling the head of Bucky’s cock and letting out a slow breath. 

     Spit really didn’t do a lot, but he didn’t care resting his forehead against his forearm, jerking in sharp tight movements as Bucky slowly slid in until his hips met Steve’s. Fuck... At first he wasn’t sure if he’d have to move himself, or if Bucky would, and then the brunette pulled back slowly before thrusting in. Steve had to admire his caution, because there wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d be able to do the same, pressing back, feeling Bucky flick his fingers sharply on his hip in warning. 

     But he didn’t care about the warning, didn’t care about what it might do to him, these stolen moments were the closest he got to home. Steve could practically smell the rain, taste the dust on his tongue. He even missed that weird stain neither of them could figure out how to get rid of in the kitchen from the previous resident. Pressing back again, insistently, he heard Bucky wipe his hand on his pants before placing it on Steve’s hip as well. 

     Then he was seeing stars, breathing heavily through his nose as he bit down against the noises he could feel climbing up his throat. Nowhere near close, he knew it wouldn’t take much more of the pace Bucky set to get him there. Distantly he could hear voices near the door and then gone, but it didn’t mean anything, letting go of his cock to reach for Bucky’s hand when his rhythm faltered. They were already here, already neck deep to drowning, to hell with whoever might be walking by. 

     So close, his fingers digging into the back of Bucky’s hand before moving back to jerking himself off. He knew when Bucky began to get close by the way he pulled Steve back more than he was thrusting forward, as if he couldn’t get in hard enough, fast enough. Muttering curses under his breath, Steve chased the pleasure he could feel just outside his reach, hips rocking back as Bucky’s snapped forward. So close, so fucking cl- 

     A hoarse noise escaped him, hushed but incredibly loud in the tight quarters, fingers curling on the hand that had been pressing against the wall, mottled as he kept stroking with the other hand until he couldn’t anymore. Behind him he could feel the frantic thrust of Bucky’s hips slowing, forehead resting between Steve’s shoulder blades. It had been dumb, and Bucky had been absolutely right to try and talk him out of it. But it had been a bit of home out here on foreign soil, with men dying every day. It had been a bit of Brooklyn, like those rainy days after Bucky had come home from work on the docks. It was a bit of sanity, and if he had to, Steve would do it again in a heartbeat.

[shanlulu-writing]

Levi x Reader I am all yours - Part 3

So here is the next part. Woohoo! This one has been quite hard to write as my CFS has really kicked in, but its here at least. This one is just filling out the next chapter. I hope you like, please comment and let me know your thoughts. You know I love it when you do. Thank you to all those who have supported me so far in writing this, and I will be back on it as soon as I start feeling better. Much love to you all xxx WARNING - Swearing from the outset. Part 3 “Ahem, Levi. A word.” The kiss stopped, and you turn your head to see Erwin. You watch Levi walk off still giving you an angry glare.

What the actual fuck?

You take a deep sigh of relief as you see them walk away. You needed air, to blow everything that had just happened away and you make your way outside. He kissed you. As in 'full on kissing' kissing, what the hell was that about? Your brain hurt as you try to come up with a reason for the way he was acting. It was so conflicted. On one hand he was a complete fucking maniac, and yet he had tried made sure you were okay in his own weird little way.

Were the rumours right? You couldn't think like that. He had treated you so badly, you couldn't possibly forgive him for what he had done. If you hadn't defended yourself you wouldn't be alive now. You were sure of that.

The wind blew around you as you reach the courtyard. You really should have put your cloak on before you came out. You wrap your arms around you as you walk along the path and you hear the horses whinny as the wind rattles the doors of the stables. You deviate from your undecided destination, and steal yourself inside. It was fairly warm in here, the horses paced around, obviously feeling unsettled. You speak calmly to them, giving each a pat or stroke, and you notice that it seems to soothe them.

Helping them calm down settled your nerves, and you walk past Captain Levi's horse, its dark eyes staring at you blankly. Like owner like horse. You watch him intently, and he whinnies again as another gust bashes against the walls. So it was his horse that was getting all flustered because of the wind. You slowly open the door to his berth, and walk over to him. He was nervous, so you talk to him in hushed tones, sending him reassurance, and you pat his side. He really was a beautiful horse, and definitely cream of the crop. You feel him shivering, and you frown, the horses should have been accustomed to the cold by now, they were bred for it, among other things. Searching round you find his winter coat, throw it over his back and fasten it round his neck. He looks at you and you sense he is thanking you. You were definitely going mad, the horse would start talking to you in a minute. You stroke his mane and pick up a brush and gently groom him.

“Its okay boy, I feel the cold too.” He shakes his head and nibbles at your jacket, you laugh as it takes you by surprise. “Haha, I don't think that's very tasty.” He nuzzles against your side, and you stroke his forehead lovingly. It was true, animals really did know how to make you feel better.

“He likes you.” You look up from where you were standing, and watch as the familiar figure walks towards you.

“Thanks.” You say flatly, not wanting to speak to him. “I hope you had a nice chat with Erwin.”

“I wouldn't call it that. He wasn't very happy, especially when I told him how much trouble you had been.” You pause what you're doing, and glare at him, just fucking typical for him to completely twist things in his favour. You look away from him and keep petting the horse, you weren't going to dignify him with a response. Captain Levi seemed to become annoyed at your silence, but you didn't care, he was not worth the effort. “Tsk. I forgot to mention you have no fucking manners.”

“Okay, did you also mention you have been a complete and utter jerk the past few months, and, oh, that you tried to kill me?” You feel you anger rising again, you had tried so hard to keep it under wraps, but he just knew how to piss you off. He just stares at you his eyes hard, face unmoving and he shrugs.

“That is neither here nor there.”

“You have got a fucking nerve. You treat me like shit for as long as I have been here, punish me at every given opportunity, try to kill me, isolate me from my friends and then on top of that you have the fucking audacity to think you have a right to kiss me. I mean, how fucking dare you!” You shake as the adrenaline rages through your body. Picking up one of the grooming brushes from the shelf you throw it at him, he anticipates your move, and elegantly moves out the way. The brush makes its way to the doorway and narrowly misses the new occupant of the stables.

“Commander Erwin. I-” You quickly apologise before being cut off.

“That is quite enough (last name).” He walks further into the stables and casts Levi a knowing, disdainful glance from the corner of his eye. “I hear that you two have been causing a fair amount of trouble.” You stand there feeling extremely ashamed of yourself, only turning to anger when you see Captain Levi's eyes smirking victoriously. “That includes you Levi. You have been running this poor girl through the ringer. I think the least you can do is apologise, don't you?” The Captain's eyes widen at being openly reprimanded and he looks to Commander Erwin with a look of pure astonishment. Erwin motions to you with his eyes, and you hear Captain Levi growl as he turns back to you.

“I apologise Cadet (Last name)” You hold a smirk back when you notice he said it with gritted teeth; you find it so highly amusing, you have to put a hand over your mouth to cage a laugh. Erwin gives you a sideways smile, he seems to be enjoying this as well.

“Come, Levi. Why so formal? You weren't so proper when you had her pinned up against the wall a few minutes ago.” You choke on air and feel your cheeks burning. Did he really just say that? You dart your eyes to the Captain. You see a faint hue of pink on his cheeks, and he bows his head to cover his eyes.

“Of course, Erwin. (First name), is that adequate?” You can sense from his sullen tone that he was feeling very uncomfortable, you totally knew how that felt. It was strange hearing your name being said by him, you preferred it a lot more to brat or idiot. Why did Erwin draw attention to how he found you? Why did he even mention it? Was it his way of pulling Captain Levi into line? Either way, all of this was a complete revelation to you. The Captain obviously respected Erwin, that much was evident, you didn't think that he would bow down to anyone else like this.

“It will do. Now (last name). I wanted to have a word with you.” You gulp, and nod cautiously. “I hear that you did very well in your training the other day. In fact not only did you best Kirstein, you bested Levi too.” You hear him chuckle.

“I wouldn't say that” Captain Levi retorted.

“I would. From all reports; she was completely incapacitated due to being in a suppressive choke hold, and still managed to disable you. At the end of the day Levi, she was the last one standing, she won that match fair and square.” He looks back to you. “Honestly, I never thought I would see the day that Levi got beaten by one of our new recruits.” This brought a reaction from Levi that was halfway between a scoff, and choking on his own ego. “Either way, due to your impressive display, I wanted to ask you personally for your participation in our next mission.” You eyes widen.

“It is only a small operation, a four man team needs to go one of our outposts, not far from here, and pick up some of Hanji's notes that she left behind from our last mission. It shouldn't pose too much danger, and I am sure that you will be able to handle it. It would also mean that you go into the same ranks as Jaegar, Alert and Kirstein etcetera.”

Your mouth gapes, does this mean you were effectively being promoted from newbie status? There was so much to think about. He was serious, he wanted you to go on a mission, and go out there with the titans. You may even get your wish of being trodden on by a Titan after all.

“I don't think that is such a good idea.” Captain Levi interjects, there is something in his eyes which you cant make out, he seems agitated with the news, and on all accounts, quite panicked. He flits his eyes to you, almost assessing what your answer will be and you just stand there not really sure what to say or do. “She doesn't have enough field training for this!”

“Well, that is the reason why you will be heading the team Levi. However, I do think she is more than capable of holding her own. She has already shown us that she doesn't flinch when it comes to her being face to face with a titan. She has good accuracy with her blades and is one of the better balanced ones with the 3dmg.”

He would be coming with you? You finally thought that you had found safety in Erwin, but he was throwing you out to the wolves again. You sigh and nod, at least he acknowledged your hard work. You watch Captain Levi, was he angry again? You see his fist clench and release again. What was he pissed about now? Because he would be working with you? Or that it had been made official that you beat him in a fight?

“Ah, also, Levi, even though you will be heading this team. I think it would be best to see it as a four man squad, rather than a trio with a leader. I would like to see you go out there as equals, I think after the recent displays, it would be best to show the cadets that you aren't, how did you put it (last name)? Yes that's it, 'a complete jerk'.” You chuckle, something about Erwin saying it, made it even funnier. Captain Levi glares at you from underneath his eyebrows, which you ignore, turning your head to look at anything else.

“Tsk.” Is that all he really had to say? You could see that there was something more going on here. What it was, you were definitely not privy to. Go out as equals? Erwin wanted to make sure that he couldn't use his rank against you? It was a dangerous plan at any rate, you weren't going to be safeguarded by anyone else.

“Commander? Who else will be going on the mission?” You ask meekly. You almost wanted him to say Eren, though in the same breath, maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Eren was so protective, and Captain Levi was so, well... Levi, that there would be more danger from them than the titans.

“I have selected Blouse and Kirstein. They need a little more field experience, but they are solid team themselves. No, Levi; I do not want any more arguments from you. I have already told you once, I will not repeat myself. Do not make me embarrass you further today.”

You watch as Captain Levi drags his teeth over his bottom lip in an attempt to stop himself from snapping back at his Commander. They had obviously had some harsh words when Erwin had dragged him off. The thought of having to spend time with him officially worried you, but orders were orders, and at least you had Sasha and Jean with you.

“One more thing. I think it would be best for both of you to cool off. Stay away from each other for a few days, the mission is in three days time, so try your best to steer clear of each other.” What a strange request, but you felt it was actually a very good idea, it meant you had space to talk and be with your friends and get some sort of normality back before venturing out. Commander Erwin turns on his heels and leaves you alone with Captain Levi.

“Well your horse seems to have calmed down now, so I'll get going.” You walk past him, making your way as quickly as possible. He catches you arm firmly and you turn to him in surprise.

“Don't do anything stupid.” You look at him in puzzlement. “I mean it, Br.... (first name)” He lets go of you and then makes his own way out of the stables leaving you more confused than when you had entered. He had called you by your first name again, you hated to admit it but you rather liked how it sounded coming from him. Strangely it gave you a weird sense of acceptance, even if the first time had been forced and probably meant anything but.

You shut the door behind you and scan the area for your teammates, and find they were sitting in the courtyard chatting. The wind had died down, and the sun was peeking weakly through the clouds. You couldn't help but smile at them, they really had showed you how much they cared, even Mikasa, she had bothered to ponder about a situation you were in and given it real thought. That was something quite phenomenal.

“(first name)!” You hear Armin beckon you over. You make your way over to them, and sit down on the wall just behind them. The faces looking at you were mixed with anticipation and worry, you laugh at your audience.

“You will never guess what happened!” You stop, you weren't going to tell them about the kiss, no way. “I think Erwin ripped Mr Stick-up-his-Ass a new one!” You couldn't help but giggle as you hear the gasps sound around you.

“So what did he say?”

“I didn't hear the actual conversation, but Captain Levi tried to make out that it was me causing all the problems. I don't think Erwin believed him though. They both spoke to me in the stables, and he made the Captain apologise.”

“What?! He knows how?” Sasha squealed, she really was excitable. “What happened next?”

“Please tell me he got kicked by a horse” Eren asked dismissively, you look at him with a heavy heart, he really wasn't happy.

“No Eren, he didn't, something much better. Erwin asked me to go on a mission to pick up Hanji's notes in a four man squad.”

“Yeah, we got told about that last night. Didn't realise you were coming along with us.” Jean commented, seemingly as uninterested as Eren.

“But did he tell you that even though the Captain is coming, he isn't leading us?” That made everyone stop what they were doing and pay undivided attention to you. “He has been told in no uncertain terms that we are to all go as equals.”

“WHAT!?” The chorus was hilarious to your ears.

“You don't mean that he isn't going to be bossing us about all mission?” Sasha asks in disbelief.

“That's exactly what I mean. You have no idea how pissed the Captain was!” You laugh again, the whole situation made you feel like you were soaring through the sky, you felt so happy, you had all your friends around you and you finally have one up on Mr Bipolar.

“I still don't like it. You are going to be alone with him and away from any help, he could easily pull the same stunt over again and leave you out there to die.” You sigh as you notice Eren standing with his arms folded, you hop off the wall and rub his arm. “Eren, it will be okay. I have Jean and Sasha with me. Nothing will happen. I promise.”

“I hope for your sake it doesn't.” You roll your eyes and sit down with Sasha and Jean to talk about the upcoming mission, and go over the details that they had already been given.

~

It had been a long day, and you were curled up in your bed. Most of the girls were already asleep, and you stare blankly at the wall, thinking on everything that had happened. Every reasoning about how the Captain had acted just left more questions, it was hopeless. You shift, tucking your feet further into the covers, when you feel your mattress dip, your covers lift up and someone slip into the bed next to you. You whip your head round in fear, when you see Sasha's familiar face looking at you and you relax.

“Hey. There was something I wanted to ask you.” She whispers in an attempt to not to wake the others. “It feels like you left something out of your story earlier. What was it?” You grimace, you really didn't want to let anyone know what really happened. If she knew and anyone found out you would have to explain something that you didn't understand; not something you wanted to do.

“Sasha, just leave it.” You murmur.

“No, I can tell its eating you up. You gave me your dinner, that's not like you at all.” You sigh, you can see real concern in her eyes, this must be what having a friend feels like.

“Okay. Don't freak out. He kissed me.” She gasps, and you put a finger to your mouth to quiet her. “It was really weird, like he did it because he was so angry with me.” You continue to whisper. “ I don't know why he did it so don't ask me why. Erwin caught us, just before he pulled him aside.”

“Oh my god! I cant believe it.” You try to hush her again.

“You must keep this to yourself. I don't want to have to explain everything to people, so please, please don't say anything!” You can see her eyes shining and her mindless grin even in the darkness.

“I promise, I promise. Did you like it?” You are completely caught off guard with the question. Had you? You had been shocked but you hadn't really given the experience much thought. You could say it was fairly passionate, he was pissed off for one thing, but he had pinned you up against the wall, and had kissed you quite forcefully. You feel your body shiver at the thought and pull the covers over yourself further, hoping it is the cold night air.

“I don't know.” Your brain was desperately trying to keep up with all the thoughts running round your head. On the logical side of your brain you were still angry with the way you had been treated, you were scared of him, and quite rightly. On an emotional level, your thoughts were not so clear, that kiss -even being as rough as it was- had played on your mind since it happened.

“Well either which way, I think he likes you, even if he is really crap expressing it.”

“That's putting it mildly.” You laugh under your breath.

You talk about the impending mission for a little while longer, Sasha retreats to her own bed and as you drift off to sleep your thoughts are filled with the Captain.

~

Three days later....

You had slept badly, your slumber filled with tense dreams that you couldn't remember. You had woken early, and checked that all your belongings were packed. You had dressed and made your way to the stables to check on your horse and load the small bags with your packed items. You munched on the small breakfast that you had prepared for yourself, you were leaving early anyway, and would have missed the morning meal in the mess hall.

You go to sit down by the lake on the far side of the courtyard. It was very quiet, with the odd bird tweeting in the distance. You watch, as the horizon turns from a beautiful orange, to a pale pink as the sun creeps its way up from the land and into the sky. You smile at the sight, it really was quite breath taking. You hear footsteps behind you, but you don't look to see who it is, you didn't care, you were enjoying your view far too much.

“It really makes you feel human doesn't it?” Captain Levi stands beside you; it wasn't really a question, more of a statement. “No matter what happens, the sun will rise and set, completely disregarding the world it shines down on.” You don't answer but you nod. As deep as it was, he was right. Things move on and the world still turns, even if people die.

“What's gotten into you?” You say after a few minutes of silence. “You planning on dying today Captain.”

“Not if I can help it. I would prefer it if you didn't try to kill me with your incompetency on the field.” You growl at the comment, there was really no need for it. Up until this point it had been fairly amicable. Trust him to ruin the moment.

“Well, Levi.” You make a point at disregarding his rank, he wasn't the boss any more, not on this mission any how. “I would hate to be the cause of your death, it would be dreadfully ironic, though wouldn't it? Killed in action by one of your own teammates.” You end the sentence dryly.

“Tsk” You hear his feet shift. “Just because Commander Erwin told you we are equals, doesn't mean that I am not your superior.”

“Whatever Levi! Orders are orders.” You hear the sound of footsteps coming towards you, turning round you spot Jean and Sasha heading for your direction. Sasha looks extremely tired, she must not have slept well either, Jean however looked determined.

“Are we going then?” Jean asks directly to you rather than Levi. You give him a sideways glance and see that he is clenching his teeth again. You nod and get up from your seated position, you make your way over to the stables with the new arrivals, leaving Levi standing at the lake on his own.

“Are your horses ready?” You ask as you saddle your horse and check the reins. They confirm, and you walk your horses out of the stables. Levi passes you without even an acknowledgement , and soon returns with his horse. You walk the horses over to the equipment shed and get your gear together. Nerves start to show in your hands as they shake; were you worried about the mission? Or being on the mission with Levi? You give in trying to figure it out and clap your hands to shake out the trembles.

You gear up and walk outside, and mount your horse, waiting for the others. They soon file out and get on their own horses. Everyone is fairly quiet, Levi, as normal was mute and aloof. You all follow him out of the courtyard and make your way down towards the outpost.

As you ride through, you realise it really was quite beautiful, if you ignored the derelict buildings and eerie quiet. The birds sang as they flew out overhead, the green pastures now wild and unkempt. You ride your horse hard, and you feel all the doubts and anger of the last few months blow away as you speed along. You ride for hours, not daring to stop. You remember in training that you had to be constantly moving, otherwise you may as well be a sitting duck. You contemplate the time when you had witnessed the titans for the first time. They were the stuff of nightmares. No one could imagine something so monstrous, yet here they were destroying humanity with every mouthful. You had managed to take one down, unscathed. Some others in your team however, hadn't been so lucky. You feel your heart pull as you remember your teammates, in pieces. That was not going to happen again, not on your watch!

“Are we far, Levi?” Your legs begin to ache as the horses start to slow down, and you shift uncomfortably in the saddle. Your ride had been clear of any titans, which had been lucky, and you were somewhat relieved.

“No. We should be there shortly.” His voice is short and slightly breathy. You muse he should sound like that more often, his breathing made his words sound a little softer. It suited him. Maybe you should have him chase you round the courtyard before you let him talk to you, he might inadvertently sound nicer.

The horses slow to a trot as you walk through a path with buildings either side. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you become more alert. You can't even hear the birds calling any more. You hear a massive crashing sound to the side of you, your horse bolts down an alleyway to your left when you hear Sasha scream.

You jump off your horse and run back, your horse would be fine, just useless at the moment. You knew something was wrong. As you reach the place you had been before the horse ran, you look up to see a Titan, with Levi firmly in its grasp.

“LEVI!” Your eyes scan the area for the others and notice Sasha pulling an unconscious Jean into a building and Levi's gear crushed on the ground below you. It must have been damaged in the initial blow. Fuck! You fire off your 3dmg, zipping up to the building near the Titan and run across the roof. Your boots pound across the rooftop, tiles slipping from beneath you as your mind runs into overdrive. Blind-siding this monster was the only way you could start on the attack. You hear Levi yell, and see the Titan raising him to its mouth. Adrenaline surges through you, seemingly bringing time to a standstill. The titan's motion seems to blur slightly as you focus, and in that moment you shoot your line to the Titan's arm while slashing frantically, managing to slice the hand off at the wrist, although shattering your blades in the process as they bounce off bone. The Titan howls and swings out with its damaged arm, causing you to lose balance. Your hair whips behind you as you plummet downwards, watching the floor rise up to meet you, and somehow in the nick of time you send out another line and swing out to catch Levi, just before he hits the ground.

Sasha comes out from her hiding place to bundle Levi inside, just one glance shows you he's completely dazed. You grab your next set of blades and whistle through the air back at the titan. Back on the roof, the behemoth ploughs a hand through the slates next to you and takes out part of the roof, almost ripping your feet out from underneath you. With a crack, your next line flies out in desperation, and hooks deeply into the Titan's jaw. You reel yourself in and set off to take the bastard down, knowing timing is everything. You glide around it, readying yourself to strike when it swipes around and catches one of your legs. If it could laugh, you are sure it would have done. You struggle desperately to get free without any luck.

“(FIRST NAME)!!” You hear a voice call your name. Fear stricken, and urgent, it wasn't one you recognised. Taking a quick look down you see Levi, leaning in a door way staring up at you unable to do anything. It was enough to shake you from your stupor and with a single movement you slice through the fingers holding your leg, ripping your uniform on your left shin. You set a line which pierces its shoulder blade and while reeling yourself in, you run up its back. You drag your blades across its skin, and pound them through the flesh at its weak point giving you enough force to hurl yourself to safety. With a pitiful wail, the titan comes smashing to the ground and you remind yourself that oxygen is indeed necessary as you breathe a sigh of relief. You scan the area from your position...

All clear, thank goodness...

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?!” You hear as you put your feet back down on solid ground. Levi, limping slightly, storms up towards you.

“Saving your ass, I think.” You give him a smile, but you realise that he is fuming and your face falls. You didn't get it. You did enough to save everyone, as far as you knew everyone was okay.

“You were being fucking reckless. You seriously are a bloody idiot. I should never have let Erwin put you on this mission!”

“Excuse me! If I hadn't have been here you would have been Titan chow!” You roar back at him. “Dead. You know? As in, not able to be giving me the third degree right now!” You couldn't believe it, what the fuck? Was he really riding your ass because you saved him? What an egotistical prick!

“Levi, she didn't do anything wrong” You notice Jean slowly walking up with a bad cut to his head. Sasha followed quickly behind him. “She saved us all, if she hadn't kept its attention, we'd all be dead.” His voice was cold, and cutting. “And that definitely includes you. Stop being a moronic ass, and let's get the horses and go.”

“Tsk. Fucking brats!” You watch in astonishment as he walks off and picks up his damaged gear. Jean and Sasha walk up behind you as you watch him slink off to find his horse. You were livid, and you turn to them with a look of complete loss.

“What's up with him?” Sasha asks.

“I should have let the Titan eat him. I wont be saving him again, that's for sure.” You reply with malice, not really answering her question.

“There's something not right” You look at Jean with a raised eyebrow. “Well, more than usual, and its all directed at you Mrs Ackerman.” He smirks at you and you roll your eyes.

“Not that shit again.” You walk off to find your horse and sure enough, there he was, still in the alleyway. You walk him back and find Sasha and Jean already mounted on their horses. Patting your horse to reassure him, you saddle up. You trot along the path and find Levi waiting for you, he shoots you a glare and then huffs as he starts off without you.

You ride for another 10 minutes feeling extremely achy and arrive at the outpost. The place is completely deserted, and you carefully make your way to the entrance. You walk the horses around to the old paddock and make sure that they have food and water. Grabbing your belongings from the saddle bags you slowly make your way into the building.

The outpost main building was dusty and dark, and smelt of mould; although fortunately it still seemed sturdy enough to protect the team. You find a place to sit down in what you believed to be some sort of rest room or social quarters. Leaning back in the chair, you sigh as you relax your tired muscles and aching joints. Everything hurt, and on the come down from all the adrenaline, you definitely feel like shit.

“(first name)” Sasha calls though from another room. “I'm just going to take Jean up to the medical room here and get cleaned up.” You hear Jean bitching about her mothering him as their voices get further away... So typically Jean.

“What is it with you?” You don't even bother turning to see who it is, Levi's voice was clearly distinctive. You don't answer, as you know it wasn't really intended as a question. “You have a total disregard for your own safety. You were lucky you didn't die out there.” Even though the words themselves were of concern, his tone was not, he was incredulous.

“Maybe, maybe not, but I didn't and neither did you.” You reply, your voice was curt and you cut yourself short to stop yourself from ranting at him and his stupid attitude.

“Brat, did you ever stop to think that you might be important to people alive?” You scowl at him.

“Well, sure. Everyone is better off being alive.” Your voice is dismissive. What a stupid statement. “But if you dare talk to me like that again, you wont be around to shout at me afterwards!”

“Say that again, Brat! I fucking dare you.” His eyes flashed. You get up out of your chair and walk towards him slowly, preparing yourself.

“Talk to me again and I will shut you up-” You are interrupted as he grabs you and pulls you towards him. “Levi! Don't even think about it!” remembering the last encounter, your left hand whips to your hip, fingers closing around the field knife at your waist.

“Shut up, (First Name) Your leg's bleeding.” He used your name? Wait, what?! You allow yourself to watch as he kneels down, then you see your ripped and heavily bloodied trousers. You had a gash on your right thigh, a fucking big one... How the hell did that happen? Why hadn't you noticed? He examines it and stands up quickly, grabbing your arm and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Hey!”

“We need to clean the wound. You don't want to die of sepsis do you?” His voice may have softened slightly, but that still didn't stop you struggling to get away from him. His arm clamps around you tightly even preventing you from squirming, so you resign yourself to fate. You rest your head in your hand in annoyance as he walks you to the medical room...