#until he got near the bottom and I saw him tilting the mug to try to see the bottom

[thesaltyace]

I finally got to serve a hot drink to a guest in our house with my favorite mug.

Allow me to recreate their experience for you. Imagine it's coffee.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

let me be your ruler.5

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, fingering, treats.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You find more to worry about than just Peter.

Note: We get the long awaited update for mob Peter and I hope you like this twisted little chapter! Tomorrow Zemo and Wednesday the finale of Birch!Loki. I’ll try to keep up with Zemo and go back to an old series and try to pick away more at finish WIPs.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Masterlist

Peter’s intensity did not let up. If anything, he grew more insistent and more suffocating. After the pool, there was the bed, then the shower, then another romp that kept you from logging into your work email. You were sore and drained by the time you laid down, too exhausted to try to wriggle away from him as he joined you and kept his arm over you as you drifted off.

You woke to him drinking coffee and looking out at the lush property. He wore only a pair of short boxers, his muscles lined perfectly along his bent arm and firm stomach. You let out a soft breath and rolled onto your back. 

Your thighs brushed together and made you squirm. You thought once he had his fun, he might let up. You could not predict this man in anything.

“You want a coffee?” he asked as he turned away from the windows, “I’ll send for one. Latte? Mocha?”

“Mmmph,” you grumbled and sat up carefully. 

Those cocktails went down too easy and added to the weight in your head and limbs. The alcohol made him bearable, made your new reality palatable. You were naked still. You held the sheet to your chest and he went to the dresser and pulled out the drawer with his free hand. He dangled the long camisole gown before you as he neared.

“I hate to cover such a pretty woman up but I think we’ve exposed my staff to enough of our fun,” he held the thin straps over a single finger.

You reached for it and he drew it just away from your grasp. He bent and his dark eyes clung to yours, “not a good morning kiss?” he taunted.

You leaned forward and pecked his lips. He purred and stood, draping the silk over your lap.

“So, coffee?” he asked again.

“With just a little milk,” you answered as you pulled on the nightgown and turned your legs over the edge of the bed. Every part of you was stiff, “thank you.”

“You’re learning, princess,” he praised, “such sweet manners.”

You stood and crossed your arms. He chuckled and nudged your chin with his knuckle playfully. He pulled on a robe and knotted it loosely around his body. He went to the door and hit the button right beside the frame. A knock came shortly and he handed over his empty mug and requested one for you.

“I was thinking, we’d extend our stay a while,” he said as he turned back to the room, “I need a break from the city… but if you’re good, I’ll let you invite your friends. They’re nice girls.”

“Is that a suggestion or an order?” you asked dully.

“Both,” he smirked at you as he came closer and wrapped his arms around you, “you’re starting to get it, princess.”

You searched his face and held back a sigh. His brown eyes were smokey as his hands slipped down to your ass.

“I’ll need them around to distract my guests,” he purred.

“Guests?” you turned your arms and planted them firmly against his chest as he bent to kiss your neck. He ignored you easily as he swayed you with him.

“I was woken up early by a call,” he spoke against your skin, his lips sending shivers through you, “we got today and tomorrow, then those two goons will be joining us. I can get away but…” he raised his head and ran his hands up your sides and along your arms, pulled them over his shoulders, “business is business… we can still fit in a little play.”

You stiffened and swallowed. Your brows furrowed and you slanted your lips as you looked past him.

“You mean Bucky?”

“And Steve,” he filled in, “you don’t get one without the other.”

“I thought you guys were all… sorted out,” you said quietly.

“Ah, princess, you don’t know the half of it,” he cooed, “let’s keep it that way. Better for everyone.”

You nodded. He was right, you knew whatever he did was unsavoury and you didn’t need the details. You knew what he was capable of. A flash of fear went through you as you recalled the barrel of his gun pointed at you.

“I don’t wanna do that again, princess,” he uttered as if he could read your mind, “so… let’s not. Give the girls a call.”

A tap came at the door and he parted. He opened it and took the mug from the servant and brought it to you. You took it as the scent promised to fend off the ache behind your eye. You sat in one of the upholstered chairs and took a cautious sip. He watched you with a grin and bit his lip.

“Better finish that fast,” he warned, “coffee stains don’t come easy.”

You eyed him as he pushed open his robe and you saw the bulge twitch in his boxers. You kept your face placid, not wanting to provoke him. What exactly were you holding onto? He already had your whole life in the palm of his hand.

✨

Halle was more than overjoyed to accept your invitation but Molly passed as she wanted to hang out with Charlie. Desiree said it would be good for her as her co-worker turned out to be a total waste of time. 

You hated that you were doing this to your own friends; using them as bait. Peter made it clear that they were welcome only on the condition that they could be an ends to his means. ‘Tell them to bring bikinis’, he insisted before you made the call.

Your second morning at the beach house was just as heavy as the first. The day before was filled with Peter’s incessant touching and another dip in the pool that ended in his delight. The staff was set to cleaning the pool once more in preparation of the guests. You were embarrassed as the servers, cleaners, and chef were all too aware of your activities.

Peter left you after a quick shower and you were thankful for the chance to wash on your own. He pecked your lips as he held his phone to his ear and squeezed your ass before he went. 

You stood beneath the steamy stream of the faucet and melted beneath it. You came out slightly refreshed and wrapped yourself in a plush towel.

You went into the bedroom and sorted through the second drawer as you searched for something more comfortable than showy. There wasn’t much you could categorize as practical. You heard the door creak and didn’t look up as droplets cooled on your arms and you pulled a yellow sun dress out of the closet instead.

“That’s a good colour for you,” the voice made you freeze and you glanced over at the open door. 

You assumed it was Peter or the wind, but the man who filled the doorframe with his thick shoulders, made your chest tight. Bucky stood with his arm against the wood as he leaned nonchalantly and leered at you.

“Wh-when did you get here?” you stuttered as you held your towel tight and shielded yourself with the dress.

“Just a couple minutes ago,” he smiled, “I was just looking for the bathroom but…” he tilted his head as his voice trailed off and his eyes ventured down your body, “...think I found something better.”

“Get out,” you hissed, “or I’ll shout.”

“Why? I’m not doing anything… just watching,” his lips curled lasciviously, “and you are fun to watch.”

“What-- I said, get out, Bucky,” you snarled as you stomped over to him.

You pushed on his thick arm, the muscle firm as it peeked out from beneath his short-sleeve button-up. He didn’t budge as he loomed over you.

“Your man likes to treat me like some errand boy. Sent me off to keep an eye on you. Boring, at first, all those months following you around to cafes and grocery stores,” he reached out and cradled your chin. You tried to pull away but he gripped your jaw firmly and held you in place, “but those things you do when you think you’re all alone… I was tempted to lend a hand but… business.”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you grabbed his wrist and wrenched it away, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about--”

“That little pink dildo, well, not very little is it?” he licked his bottom lip, “I thought he would’ve told you. He’s a careful man. He plans ahead. I respect that, at least.”

“Go!” you shoved him in mortification, “or I’ll scream right now and you know Peter won’t be happy--”

“Calm down, little girl,” he scoffed, “don’t get so worked up. I’m not that stupid…” he squared his jaw and raised a brow wryly, “but he will get careless and I’ll still be watching.”

He winked and turned away slowly. You quickly closed the door as he retreated down the hallway and you locked it with a shaky hand. You staggered back blindly and sat heavily on the cushioned bench at the foot of the bed.

How long had Bucky been hounding you? How long had Peter had his eye on you? Your heart raced at the realisation of how deep in you truly were. You could deal with one, but two? You were well and truly fucked.

✨

You tried to hide in the bedroom until your friend arrived but Peter dragged you out to welcome his guests over breakfast by the pool. You sat quietly and picked at the fruit plate until they excused themselves for more business. You were grateful as you didn’t miss Bucky’s fleeting looks.

Halle and Desiree arrived just after noon. The men were locked away in the parlor so you greeted them as they approached the walk, beach bags on their arms and rolling suitcases bouncing up the stones.

“Oh my god, girl,” Halle chirped, “he sent a car and everything.”

“Thank god, my old piece of shit wouldn’t have made it this far,” Desiree added, “oh, you look so good. I love that dress.”

“Thanks,” you sniffed, “um, I hope you guys don’t mind staying on the second floor. Peter’s staff just got the rooms ready--”

“Staff?” Halle swooned, “you hooked in a real sugar daddy.”

“No, I-- Halle,” you sneered, “it’s not--”

“I’m teasing,” she giggled, “but come on, look at this place.”

“Mm, well there is another hitch,” you said as you led them inside.

Two staff members approached and offered to take their bags. They gave you silent looks of amazement as they handed over their luggage and you rolled your eyes.

“So, what’s the hitch? Don’t tell me the pools out of order,” Desiree whined.

“No, pool’s just been cleaned, but… we have company,” you said tritely, “couple of Peter’s… friends. I’m sure they won’t bother you but--”

“Are they hot?” Halle asked.

“Are you serious?” you blinked.

“I’m so serious. I need to get laid. Bad.”

“And a stranger is the best choice for that?” you scoffed.

“If he’s cute,” she shrugged.

“It’s an important question,” Desiree seconded, “I can’t keep dating boys. You won’t believe what this asshole did.”

“I dunno,” you waved off the question, “how about I show you around first and then we can get to all that later.”

“Ooo, yes,” Halle clapped, “this place is huge.”

“Alright, well, we can’t go in the parlour right now but you won’t really be in there anyway,” you ushered them forward, “the pool’s just through here…”

✨

When at last the girls were settled in, you waited by the pool as they went to change into their suits. You requested some drinks from the staff and thanked them profusely as you felt entirely out of place asking anything of them. The fruity margaritas were left on the round table as you sat in the middle of a lounger.

“Uh, this place is gorgeous,” Halle declared as she came through the sliding doors, “oh my god, are those for us?”

You nodded as she swiped up a drink and sipped noisily from the straw. Desiree took her own but side-eyed Halle, “It’s barely one o’clock, slow down,” she chirped.

“It’s a vacation! Sort of. I had to use sick time for this so no Insta please,” Halle sang, “I can’t wait to get in.”

She set down her glass and strode over to the pool. She slid out of her sandals and dipped her toes in. She surprised you as suddenly she dove in and sent up a splash of water. Desiree giggled as she swallowed her mouthful and placed her drink beside Halle’s and raced over to join her.

You dragged yourself to your feet and sat at the side of the pool with only your legs in the water.

“Come on, don’t be such a party pooper,” Desiree splashed you.

“I’m not, I’m just… all pooled out right now,” you shrugged, “you guys have fun, I’m just happy to have you here.”

It wasn’t a lie. In those last two days when it was just you and Peter, you felt so completely isolated. Even if they were there to act as diversions, you were reassured to have a glimpse of your former life.

“You ladies look like you’re having fun,” Peter’s voice startled you and you looked over your shoulder as he emerged from the house, “drinking already?” He was dressed in his trunks already, “I hope you don’t mind, the guys were hoping to hop in too.”

“The guys,” Halle giggled.

“I told them we had company,” you assured Peter, “and uh, you know Halle, but this is Desiree.”

“A pleasure,” he said as he neared and sat beside you, “why aren’t you in there with them?”

“I will get in, I’m just… enjoying the sun.”

He hummed and put his hand over yours on the rim of the pool, “you okay?” he lowered his voice.

You squinted at him and nodded. He didn’t really care if you weren’t okay. He was only telling you to start acting like it.

You heard the others before they appeared. Peter introduced them as they came out and the girls were all too happy to have them sink into the pool with them. Peter nudged you and you slipped over the edge and he quickly followed. He caught you as you broke the surface and held you to him.

“They’re getting along,” he intoned.

“I still don’t get it,” you pressed against his chest as he waded you over to the other side of the pool, “why do you need them?”

“Part of the deal,” he said, “they want some fun too.”

“What? You mean--”

“The girls seem willing. They’re pretty enough and I wouldn’t say Bucky or Steve are hideous,” Peter chuckled, “it works for everyone.”

“You’re whoring out my friends for a deal?” you spat.

“Now, princess, watch it,” he curled his lip, “I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” he leaned into you and squished you between him and the wall of the pool, “if I was a worse man, I’d just let them have a taste of you… but you’re mine,” he kissed you roughly and drew back, “and so long as you are, you will only be mine. Understood?”

You swallowed and nodded. He relaxed and kept his arm around you as he came parallel to the pool wall and floated beside you. Steve and Desiree were chattering as she came back to the pool with her drink and Halle gabbed on at Bucky but his eyes weren’t on her. He smirked as he watched you and slowly dropped his gaze to your roommate.

“Maybe Bucky will chill out a little,” Peter grumbled as he pushed himself away from the side of the pool.

“Mm, maybe,” you let him pull you with him as he waded around the middle of the pool.

“Don’t worry so much,” he chided.

“How can I not? I hardly know these men and these are my friends, Peter,” you hissed, “I should’ve known.”

“And if you had, you still would have done what I said, princess,” he snipped, “why are you doing this? Everyone’s having fun so join the party.”

You thinned your lips and forced a smile. His eyes narrowed and he latched onto your arm. He pulled you with him to the large round steps along the far corner and you tried not to slip as you climbed out of the water. The others were too distracted to notice and as you glanced back, you found Desiree with her tongue down Steve’s throat.

“You don’t wanna have fun with them,” Peter dragged you into the house, “then we can have some of our own.”

“Not right now, Peter, please--”

“Listen, princess,” he spun and pulled you to him, “you’re not getting this. I’ve been nice. I bring you to my nice house, I send a car for your friends, I get you off… you need to start using that head instead of your mouth…” he eyed your lips, “well, the mouth is good for some things.”

You quivered in disgust and he turned as he forced you further down the hallway. He flung you through the bedroom door and you barely caught yourself on a chair. The door slammed as your damp feet slipped on the floor and you stood to face him.

“I’ve done you all these favours so you can do me one,” he hooked his thumbs in his shorts and pulled them down over the protrusion of his arousal.

You glanced away and he closed the distance between you. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. He kissed you roughly and shoved you away. He stormed over to the bed and flopped down, his cock bobbing as he moved to recline against the pillows and exhaled loudly.

“Well…” he said.

You stared at him and the bitterness laced your muscles. You huffed and walked to the bed slowly. He stroked himself tauntingly as he smirked at you. You put a knee on the bed and braced yourself. There was a moment you were ready to run and not look back, but your friends were in his pool and the vision of his pistol pulsed in your head.

You climbed up and crawled to him. You sat back on your heels, just between his legs and he tutted, “now, princess, don’t give me that look.”

You wiped the anger from your face and closed your eyes. You grasped his dick and his hand fell away. You moved your hand up then down and tamped down your reservations. You bent over him and your lashes fluttered as your lips pressed to his tip. He gasped at the soft sensation and you stretched your lips around him.

He groaned and put his hand on your shoulder as he urged you down. He met the back of your throat and you eased back, wetting his length to ease the tension in your jaw. He gripped the back of your head impatiently and you strained to let him further as he invaded your throat. You gagged and he let you back only for a moment before he forced you back down.

You followed his motion, fast and deep, until the spit dripped down him and across your face. You clung to his thigh as you breathed with each retreat only to be smothered again. Your throat burned as your jaw ached as you kept your tongue firm to his length. The sloppy sucking mingled with his lusty moans and he held your head between both hands as he thrust from below.

He stopped you suddenly. Your head spun as he lifted you off of him and sat up to kiss you messily. He pushed you over as he got to his knees. You fell back and bounced on the bed as he parted your legs, bending on over his as he moved to straddle the other. You laid at an angle as his hand slid up your stomach to your neck.

He squeezed lightly as he pulled aside the crotch of your suit and angled his dick against your cunt. You moaned as he filled you and pressed his thumb to your clit. He kept his hand at your throat as he held you down and jerked his hips sharply. He jolted your body with each decisive thrust as he watched your face.

“You like sucking my dick, princess? Makes you so wet, huh?” he growled.

You grabbed his hand but he only gripped your throat more firmly. He bit down as he sped up, the mattress shaking beneath you with each tilt of his hips. He rammed into you hard and harder, your leg stretched up his torso as he kept astride your other.

He teased and toyed with your clit as he fucked you. You choked out raspy moans as the coil wound tight inside of you and your muscles knotted around him. Your eyes rolled back as you slapped at his bicep and clawed deep into his flesh as you came. You squirmed in your orgasm and he sped up.

He pulled his hand from your throat to hold your leg to his body. He kept playing with your bud as you groped your chest senselessly and your voice rose unrestrained around you. His deep grunt punctuated each airy cry from your lips and the entire bed rocked beneath your bodies.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he snarled, “oh, princess, that’s it.”

He sank deep and pulled his hips back in a series of cruel thrusts that made your hips throb painfully. Your walls squeezed him as you came again and you milked him as he spent himself inside of you. He slowed and stopped as he hung his head and the muscles in his chest and arms tautened.

“Shit,” he breathed and slipped out of you, flinching as his tip brushed against you.

You stayed as you were as he let your leg fall to the bed and he sat between your legs and pushed his hair away from his face. He sighed and shook out his arms as if to free himself of the tension.

“You’re so good, princess,” he felt along your cunt and played with his cum as it seeped from you, “aren’t you?”

✨

Shamefully, you left the room in a new swimsuit. The former was stained from Peter’s punishment and after cleaning up, he forced you out with a fake smile. You emptied your margarita and ordered another with less reticence than before. Steve and Desiree had disappeared as Bucky humoured Halle’s flirting on one of the loungers.

Dinner was awkward enough as you weren’t foolish enough to think that no one noticed or heard your absence. You emptied three more glasses and Peter excused the two of you as he kept you from a fourth. You wobbled back to the room ahead of him and fell onto the bed without changing out of your shorts and shirt.

“You’re mad again?” you bubbled drunkenly.

“You’re drunk,” he said as removed his watch and unbuttoned his shirt, “I don’t like that.”

“You don’t, ha?” you rolled onto your back, “that first night you had no problem feeling me up while I was--”

“Princess,” he snapped, “you can only blame the drink for so much.”

“You’re an ass,” you slurred and turned your back to him.

He huffed and the light went out. You felt the mattress dip behind you as he lowered himself next to you. He was stiff and didn’t try to touch you.

“I should spank you for that,” he muttered, “but you’re so fucking lit you wouldn’t remember it.”

“I feel good,” you murmured, “for once.”

He pinched you and the bed jostled as he rolled onto his side.

“Go to sleep,” he ordered. 

He didn’t need to tell you twice as the alcohol weighted your eyelids and you were soon snoring carelessly into the pillow.

✨

You woke with a start as your stomach churned. It was still late as you clamoured out of the bed and ran for the bathroom. You hugged the bowl as you retched into it. Your body revolted and the alcohol came up with your dinner. 

You shuddered as you caught your breath and flushed. You rinsed your mouth and steady yourself as you veins were thick from excess.

You stumbled back into the bedroom. Peter was asleep. His even breath rasped up into the dark. It was a rare moment of peace unsettled only by the memory of the day. You recalled his reproach before you fell asleep, you knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.

You groaned and crept to the door and let yourself out quietly into the hall. You went to the kitchen, tiptoeing through the dark, and filled a glass with water. You sipped but a noise pricked your ears. You listened as you kept your lips on the rim and drank to ease the fire in your stomach.

You followed the sound until it was too late to retreat. The whimpers and groans mixed and sent a tingle through you as you realised what was happening. You stopped in shock, frozen as you found Bucky and Halle in the immense front room. He had her bent over a round ottoman, her fingers curled at the seam as he rutted into her from behind.

She squealed each thrust as her head hung over the other side of the cushion. “Slow down,” she wisped, “please, I told you-- ugh, I never done it like this be--”

She cried out and bit into the cushion as he slapped her ass and fucked her harder, his other hand stretched between her shoulder blades. You took a step back and the movement caught his eye. He looked up and held your gaze as his face contorted into a sinister grin.

He sped up as he reached to smother her wails and held your gaze. You gripped the glass tightly and trembled as you backed away from the doorway. You spun and raced back to your room and tripped through the door. 

You crashed to the floor and the glass shattered as water splashed around you. Peter sat up with a snort and reached to flip on the lamp at the bedside. 

“What’s going on?” he asked sleepily.

“Just getting water,” you croaked as you sat back on your heels in the midst of the broken glass.

“Shit, did you cut yourself?” he asked as he saw you.

“No, no, I’m okay but-- stay there, you’ll get hurt. I’m close enough, I can… I’ll clean it up… I’m sorry.”

He stared at you and slowly nodded. The anger crinkled in his forehead and you stood carefully.

“So, now we know not to drink like that, huh?” he girded.

“I said, I’m sorry.”

“Mmhmm,” he leaned back against the headboard, “go on, princess, clean up your mess.”

[shah-writes]

an artificially intelligent curse

so i read this article about a man who uses AI to speak with his dead fiancee and i simply cannot stop thinking about it. there’s no MCD in this! but you can find my thoughts at the bottom.

tldr; think AI + Inception + Drarry

“Draco’s dying.”

Ron is Harry’s best friend in the whole world but sometimes he can be a bit daft. 

“No, he’s not,” Harry replies serenely. He’s not. Draco is in the kitchen, wearing the light blue sweater Harry gave him last Christmas and a rosy flush Harry gave him two minutes ago. 

“They think you can help him.” Ron is staring at a point above Harry’s shoulder. Harry shifts slightly to follow Ron’s gaze and finds Draco standing there, levitating three steaming mugs of tea onto the table. 

Except. Except, Draco doesn’t drink tea. He drinks cheap, Instant coffee, a consequence of his time spent working in America. Harry teases him about it all the time. 

There’s a slight thud as two mugs hit the table, the third has vanished. 

Draco settles into a chair. “No tea for me,” he says playfully. There’s a small Statue of Liberty trinket on the bookshelf behind Ron. Harry relaxes. 

“Ron was just telling me a story,” Harry shares.

Draco smiles and leans forward expectantly on the table. It’s a set they thrifted last weekend: one Walnut table and four Cherry chairs— one ingredient away from a meal, Draco had joked. 

“It’s a curse, Harry. ‘Mione figured it out. It’s preying on your memories.”

Harry gives Ron a conciliatory nod and reaches out to brush a dark curl away from Draco’s forehead. Draco has platinum hair, he remembers, as an afterthought. 

The strands shift to a blinding white immediately. Or were they always white? They must have been, Draco would never dye his hair. 

“It’s you, Harry. You’re teaching it how to trap you.”

Harry reluctantly turns back toward Ron. 

“What makes us human?” Ron asks. “Harry, I know you can hear me, you just have to listen. What makes us human?”

“I… I don’t know,” Harry mumbles. 

“Instinct, Harry. Emotion and instinct.”

Ron is sitting on a cushioned armchair and Harry wonders absently where he got it. All Harry has are four Cherry chairs. He nearly expects to see Ron’s chair transform into dark wood. It doesn’t.

“You can’t teach humanity,” Ron continues. “You can teach a Thing how to learn, how to adapt. You can force it to consume everything around it until it knows right from wrong. Until it becomes as intelligent as any of us, but you can never teach it instinct. Look around, Harry, use your instinct.”

There’s a portrait on the wall. Four people. Harry and Draco. An older woman with almond-shaped green eyes and freckles over her nose; an older man with dark skin and Harry’s own unruly hair. 

“Hermione’s calling it an AI-Curse. Artificial Intelligence. It sweeps through your mind quickly and puts together a scenario where you feel comfortable. It’ll get things wrong, of course. It doesn’t know which memories are relevant, which are wrong, which are just daydreams. That’s where you come in. You tell It when it’s wrong and you reward It when it’s right.”

Draco’s sitting still at the table. Harry beckons him over. 

“I love that picture of us,” Draco says happily, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. 

“What is this?”

“Us and your parents, silly.”

“Draco, my parents are dead. They’ve been dead for 27 years.”

Draco blinks. “I know. Do you miss them?”

Harry snaps back to the portrait. His parents have disintegrated out of the frame. 

Ron’s still sitting at the table in his armchair. “Malfoy’s condition is deteriorating. He’s succumbing to the curse. Once he’s given up all of his memories, he’ll die trapped in a fake world of his own design.”

“Stop,” Harry says; and then, “STOP,” louder, facing Ron. Ron doesn’t hear him. Because… because Ron’s not here. Ron and his stubborn, incongruous armchair aren’t here. Harry can hear the humming of Mungo’s Stasis charms echoing somewhere in his mind, the quiet bustle of the hallway, the frantic whispering.  

The only person here is Draco. Draco, who barely ever comes over to Harry’s flat. Draco, who flirts with him over lunches but flinches away when Harry reaches out to sweep his blonde hair off his forehead.

There’s a rosy flush on Draco’s cheeks except Harry’s not the one that gave it to him. Harry’s never kissed Draco; they’re partners and friends and maybe something that transcends description, but not this. Not yet.

“Draco, why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” Draco’s smiling at him, eyes soft. It’s a daydream. Harry swallows down the grief of the realization. 

“We’re not dating, we’re not anything, why are you in my flat?”

Draco freezes. 

“No, no, no, please, no,” Harry’s grasping at him desperately but there’s nothing there. Just pixels floating away from each other, dissolving into the air. 

“NO!” Harry’s kneeling, face hidden in his hands. “No, I can’t do this alone, I can’t, come back… please come back.” He knows it’s impossible; you can’t teach humanity, Ron had said. AI doesn’t understand emotions, won’t bring him back now that it knows he doesn’t belong. 

“They want to Obliviate you,” Ron continues, speaking at Harry’s bedside at Mungo’s, imitated in Harry’s subconscious. 

“What?” Harry turns and scrambles toward Ron.    

“Hermione had a near conniption,” he chuckles. “But it’s the logical solution. The curse absorbs everything you show it and gives it back to you, better and smarter. If there’s no data for it to learn from, then you’re free.”

Harry collapses into the chair beside Ron, mind whirling. The room twists around them. They’re in the Gryffindor Common Room now, Ginny and Hermione near the fireplace, no more Walnut table and Cherry chairs. Except, Molly Weasley’s washing dishes in the corner. No. 

Obediently, Molly Weasley pops away. And then, the room is shifting again. 

“Without memories, the curse will implode into the simplest version of itself: a basic mind trap. Straightforward, simple. The kind that Aurors learn in training.” 

“JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO, RON,” Harry bellows. 

The Burrow. Except, there are two Georges. No. The room glitches and restarts. 

“They won’t try Obliviation with Malfoy. Healers think it’s too late, that he’s too weak even to break out of the simplest version.”

The office and Draco… he’s back. He’s back and alive and leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk, inspecting a takeout box. Yes. 

The room fills in further, encouraged. Case files pile up on Harry’s desk; Draco’s Statue of Liberty trinket is back, in the right place this time; an evidence board on the wall, newspaper clippings, Draco’s neat, white notes, Harry’s scrawl. 

“It’s unethical to deprive him of his memories now.” Ron says. 

Harry inspects the board closely. 7 people dead over 2 months. Inconsistencies in their deaths, but clearly perpetrated by the same actor. A pale blue envelope mailed to each victim. It explodes within minutes of delivery, enveloping its target into a coma.  

Seemingly random victims. A middle-aged mother, an elderly school teacher, a teenager days away from his 15th birthday. Muggles, Purebloods, Half-Bloods, and a Squib. Varying races, different financials. 

“Weird, isn’t it?” Draco’s staring at him. “Almost as if they chose the most diverse targets on purpose.”

Harry turns to him slowly, “Why?”

Draco tosses him an egg roll and shrugs, “Make sure we can’t trace them?” Draco joins him at the board, looks over the victim list.

The first had taken one month to die, slowly incapacitated. The second had taken only half that time, he had perished within two weeks. Faster and faster after that. The latest victim, a five-year old girl, was gone in three days. 

It was the first time, in five years of working together, that Harry saw Draco break down. Crouched outside her Mungo’s room, shivering, quiet; Harry had pulled him up and deposited him home. He came back to work two days later, his clenched jaw and fierce determination lodging itself into Harry’s heart.

Draco’s written a note under her picture: The curse is learning. 

“What is this?”

“You didn’t see the Mungo’s report? They think it’s targeting memories. With each iteration, it’s getting faster and killing quicker. Hermione was telling me about this thing…”

“Artificial Intelligence.”

“Exactly,” Draco smiles, surprised, “it absorbs huge amounts of data until it learns how to adapt to every condition.”

“The diverse victims— someone is teaching it how to learn, adapt to every condition,” Harry repeats. Draco’s standing near his desk again, illuminated by the soft light of his lamp. Soft blonde locks fall into his eyes as he looks over a case file. Harry wonders if this version will flinch away if he reaches out. Wonders if the curse has learned this detail yet. He hopes it hasn’t.

“They’re going to let him die in his own fake world. A peaceful death, they called it.” Ron is still sitting in the corner of the office, in a cushioned armchair.

Harry shakes his head, silently, frantically. There’s a pale blue envelope on Draco’s desk. 

“Draco, what is that?”

Draco looks at the envelope and back at Harry, nonchalant. Then, his face morphs into fear, mirroring Harry’s own expression. It’s the curse, it’s learning. Harry’s teaching it.

“The curse was targeting Malfoy. You were hit since you were in such close proximity, but it's a much weaker variant. You can make it out, Harry. You can help Malfoy navigate out.” Ron says from his corner.

“Harry,” Draco whispers. “What do I do?”

Harry strides forward, takes Draco’s shoulders in his hands. This is real now; Harry remembers this morning. “I’ll come for you, okay? We know what it is now, we’ll figure out how to stop it. Draco, you’ll be fine.”

Draco’s falling now. His eyes are shut, he’s laying on the floor, head tilted toward Harry.

Draco’s dying.

“RON, WHAT DO I DO? TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

Ron’s not in his corner anymore. He’s gone, and so is his armchair, and it’s just Harry alone, in his office, with Draco’s body. 

The room is still filling up around him. Draco’s coffee mug, steaming on his desk. Blank walls slowly plastered over with Auror-standard tan wallpaper. Except. Except, Severus Snape is standing over Draco.

Harry steps closer cautiously, willful not to let the curse know that Snape doesn’t belong. 

“The headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than Potions,” Snape says, looking up at Harry with dark, hooded eyes. 

A memory, then. Out of place, but relevant. Harry remembers Ron’s words: The curse doesn’t know which memories are relevant. It’s guessing, responding to Harry’s needs. It’s helping. 

“Right. You’re right.” Harry says, loud. Snape solidifies, robes saturating darker. 

“Rid your mind of all emotion,” Snape continues. “Empty it, make it blank and calm.”

“Empty it,” Harry whispers. He takes a last look at Draco and closes his eyes. 

He opens them to a plain white room. Nothing on the walls, the floor. Nothing, except a door. A simple mind trap. Harry opens the door.

i just love the idea that the curse helps him get out. since AI is always developed in service to others, i like the idea that even weaponized as a curse, it would still adapt to the needs of its target and help them in any way possible. idk pals!!!! i just have a lot of thoughts about AI, come scream with me about it!!!!!!!

also, if you haven’t already, i would highly recommend reading the article this is based off-- it is fascinating.

[simmerandwrite]

strangers - steve rogers x reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual harassment and non-consensual touching, swearing.

Word count: 4870

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: When your subway ride home takes a turn for the worst, you hope a stranger in a coffee shop will help you out.

Notes: If you saw a snippet of this the other day, here’s the full thing! I wanted to tackle some ‘in need of saving’ tropes and this just sort of happened. I’ve never posted straight up on Tumblr before but I’m a bit lacking in my experience with reader fics, so I figured this was a good place to share it. no beta, any mistakes are my own! If you like it, let me know - thanks for reading!

—

Steve Rogers liked his days off. Not that he had a set schedule week to week anyway but when things aligned correctly, he could do whatever he wanted. No world saving, no training, no report writing, no meetings.

He had scoped out a small little coffee shop in Brooklyn where he liked to spend these quiet afternoons. Usually with a book in hand (he had so many books to catch up on) or some music loaded to his phone (Nat was currently educating him on 90s punk rock) or a notebook and pencil. People watching served as wonderful inspiration to sketch.

He sipped his cappuccino, eyes tipped downward at the book ahead of him on the table. He was interrupted just moments later as someone dropped into the chair across from him.

Now, Steve wasn’t intentionally hiding out at this hole-in-the-wall cafe. But he did put on his laughable disguise still - a beaten up Yankees cap and his prescription-less thick framed glasses. He liked the anonymity. That didn’t always stop people from recognizing him.

As he opened his mouth to question the person who was suddenly joining him for coffee, she slid her phone across the table to him. Her hand shook. His eyebrows flexed into a curious frown as he looked at the screen displaying a plainly typed note:

‘Do you mind if I sit someone is following me home sorry to disturb you’

—

As if your day hadn’t been absolutely terrible enough, you spotted the gremlin of a man on the subway watching you again. You knew he worked somewhere in the same office building as you because he always trailed a few paces behind you when pushing through the revolving doors in the lobby. It wasn’t uncommon to see the same people on the same subway line at the same time every day, but this man’s presence had become an unwanted downside.

He was always there. Worse than that, he seemed to be always watching you. Today, it was even more obvious that he was following you.

When that thought first occurred to you, it had been really easy to shrug off. He was just a guy taking the subway. But when he happened to be on the later train with you one day, an uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach.

And now, as the car was filling up even more after the second stop in DUMBO, he had moved to stand and put himself even closer to you.

You had been going through so many Next Steps. God, that phrase was the bane of your existence. Next steps, next steps..

Maybe you could tell him to fuck off. You could make an appointment with Leanna in HR and see if there is a way to figure out the name of this guy - though he didn’t work for your company so that was likely going to be a dead end. You could start taking the bus to the village before grabbing the train. Maybe you could Uber home some days instead of taking the subway. Not that you could afford that but this guy was..

You stiffened immediately.

This guy was touching you. In the midst of the crowded subway car, he was pressed against you entirely. And was he.. His hips were moving against your leg and.. Wait, that was two hands on your hips now.. Hot breath whispered against your neck and -

Fuck.

You threw yourself through the mob as the train came to a stop. With hurried feet you ran onto the platform and up the stairs, doing your best to weave through the flow of people, like a fish trying to make it upstream. You tried not to be obvious but as you snapped your head over your shoulders to look back, you saw him there again.

He was smirking. No, snarling.

Next steps, next steps.

You joined a sea of people crossing the street, taking your first left to try and steer yourself into a particular direction. You were still a far walk from your apartment but with this man on your heels, you didn’t want to lead him anywhere near there.

You grabbed your phone from your jacket pocket, unlocking it quickly and scrolling through the contacts. Surely there had to be someone you could call but even then, what could they do? Offer advice?

It didn’t occur to you until then but would it be valuable to call the cops?

Despite the late day sunlight, you suddenly felt very aware of the emptiness of the sidewalk on that side street. You needed to be around people. It definitely wasn’t logical to be anywhere near alone with this guy and -

It sounded like his footsteps were getting closer. With a panicked gulp, you yanked on the door of a little hole-in-the-wall cafe. Your eyes scanned the space quickly once you were inside. You probably shouldn’t sit alone, you couldn’t run to the bathroom if you aren’t sure where it is or if you needed a key. There were too many variables.

You needed something. Next steps..

You spotted someone sitting at a small table near the window and without thinking, you sent out a silent prayer to whoever might be listening and you rushed over. The man was clearly alone, a half consumed ceramic mug of coffee sitting to the right of his book.

Swallowing hard, you quickly typed on your phone and slid it across the table to him after you sat. You tried your best to stay very calm and hoped that he would play along. God, what if he didn’t play along and -

Behind you, the door chimed once more and you desperately wanted to see if it was that man - if the gremlin had followed you inside. You clasped your hands together in your lap and forced a smile on as you looked at the stranger sitting across from you.

Despite not knowing him, there was a familiarity about his appearance. Behind his thick glasses, soft blue eyes searched you carefully. His eyes flicked to the screen once more, stiffening in his chair as he looked past you towards the rest of the cafe.

With his right hand, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out a small notebook and a pen. He scribbled something quickly and turned the page towards you.

Are you hurt?

You shook your head quickly. He offered you a tight smile and wrote once more.

Buzzcut, grey jacket?

Your eyes blew open wide and you tilted your head into a nod.

I’m Steve

He flipped the notebook closed and extended his hand across the table, palm facing up. He leaned forward just slightly, meeting your eyes with a reassuring smile. “Play along.”

Your eyes flicked to his hand and you slowly unclamped your own, grabbing his on the table instead. He was doing an impressive job splitting his attention between you and his surroundings, eyes scanning the room. He squeezed your hand very gently, brushing his thumb against your knuckles.

“Tell me about your day.”

You sucked in a hard breath. You weren’t entirely sure what his strategy was but something told you this guy was in your corner. Though despite that, you could feel another set of eyes on you.

“Uh,” you started quietly, letting the air escape your lungs. “Surprisingly, I didn’t think it could get worse before I got on the subway after work. I had a review meeting that was not great and we had a free catered lunch that was not vegetarian friendly. Missed an important email and deadline and… well, here I am whining about it and interrupting your day. Listen, I’m going to-

You moved to stand up but Steve shook his head, grasping your hand. “Give it a few more minutes, I think he’ll give up and leave.”

His words were casual but had an authoritative tone. Once more his eyes left you, looking towards the front of the cafe. He raised his free hand and motioned to one of the baristas. You weren’t certain if this was the type of place who served people at their seats but clearly he had a comfortable rapport as the young girl approached with a warm smile on her face.

“Hey Tia, could I get another?”

“Anything for you?” The barista turned her head as she asked, pony tail moving from side to side.

“Uhm.” You paused and thought. You certainly had no desire to even consider a coffee order when you felt someone’s linger gaze boring into you. “A decaf con panna, if that’s possible.” The girl confirmed it was with a nod then left the table side.

“Con panna?” Steve’s lips pulled into a curious smirk. Something about his smile calmed you.

“Espresso with whipped cream on top,” you answered. “Short and sweet.”

“I’ll have to try that next time.”

Steve sure had a soothing smile. When his thumb stopped tracing against your palm - when did that even start? - you felt an empty sadness about the loss. Wow, what did that even say about your standards when a stranger was brushing his thumb against your hand that you were so grateful for? Well, it was a thousand times better than someone rubbing his -

You winced at the memory, biting down as you clutched your bottom lip between your teeth. Though that shameful feeling hadn’t disappeared, you managed to keep it at bay. But now, it seemed to have left an image you were unable to blink away.

The sweet smell of whipped cream and the shuffling of paper cups broke you from your trance. You reached for your bag to fish out a few dollars but when you looked up, Steve was waving a hand to stop you.

It’s not that you didn’t appreciate his kindness. You did. You really, really did. But given the last half hour, you still had a hard time settling your nervous mind.

“Thanks, Tia.” Steve’s eyes were jumping around the place as the barista grabbed the cash he offered. A loud stomp of footsteps drew their attention as the Subway Gremlin saddled up beside the table.

“Sorry to be a bother, darlin’ - any chance I can borrow your phone?”

You couldn’t help but look at him. Though his words were directed at the barista, he made a point to glance over at you.

You felt Steve’s hands grip yours. When you looked towards him, his eyes were very carefully watching the man. How did he manage to -

“Sorry, we don’t have a dedicated line available to customers.” Tia politely shook her head, pointing towards the door. “There’s a CityBank up the street that can help you, I’m sure.” She shrugged and headed back to the coffee counter.

The man stood still, opening his mouth to argue.

Steve sat back, shoulders broad and steady. “Did you need directions there? I think it’s just two blocks. Maybe 500 paces.” His tone was flat. “Just out the door and you’ll be on your way.”

You kept your eyes on Steve. He kept his stare directed at the man. Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting, the man moved his feet. He turned on his heel, though not before stopping to look at you again.

“I will see you tomorrow, dar-

Steve released your hand and pushed his chair back, standing quickly and grasping the man’s shoulder.

Steve towered over him. “You have five seconds.” The man pulled away from Steve’s grip then finally stomped away. You kept your eyes tightly shut until you heard the chime of the bell indicating the movement of the door. Then, you collapsed onto your arms on the edge of the table.

Steve, meanwhile, headed to the door and kept watch for a few more moments to ensure the man actually departed from the area. Then, he stopped at the counter and exchanged a few words with Tia before returning you.

You were still doing your best to encourage the floor to open up and swallow you whole. How had this even escalated? The worst part was your mind seemed clouded with doubt. This man, you hadn’t even interacted with him before. Why was he suddenly so invested in you? To a point where he might follow you home? Were you just another target or had this been intentional?

You considered yourself a fairly observant person and yet..

You twisted your hands together in your lap and tried to consider what was going to happen now. Next steps, next steps..

“Hey.” Steve returned to his chair. Your eyes flicked up towards him, noticing he was sliding a bottle of water towards you. Your sad little espresso and whipped cream treat was deflated next to it. “Are you okay?”

You reached for the water bottle, twisting the cap open and taking a long drink. “I don’t know.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you shook your head. “No, actually. I’m not. It somehow feels like my skin is on fire and my lungs are failing me and I’m sweaty but I’m not and - and -

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Steve spoke so calmly and evenly. “Just take a slow breath with me, okay?” You closed your eyes once more and followed his instructions as he walked you through a few breathing exercises. “That’s great, you’re doing great-

When he stopped speaking so quickly, you opened one eye to look over at him. His cheeks were a warm shade of pink and his mouth was twisted into a frown. “What?”

“It just occurred to me I didn’t get your name.” He paused, as if to consider his next thought. “Although, given what just happened with that man, you are under no obligation to tell me anything about yourself. I just.. I’d like to help.”

His genuine concern for you was surprising. You allowed a small smile to stretch across your face. “You’re very nice, Steve.”

You gave him your name and he smiled back, repeating it to himself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Your smile turned downwards when you looked towards your phone. “I should probably get going. Again, I’m really sorry for dragging you into this mess but I appreciate the… solace.” You took a deep breath and pushed your chair back, pausing to tip the lukewarm espresso into your mouth. “I owe you one.”

You winced when you heard yourself and sighed. Why did you say that? This stranger, this friendly, broad shouldered, tall, handsome stranger who’s day you interrupted, did not need your weird backhanded flirting. In fact, even though every signal in your brain seemed on edge after, well, everything, the only thing that seemed to ground you now was the kindness of Steve. So you tried to will yourself not to ruin it with any additional commentary.

You weren’t entirely sure what had driven you down this particular street into this particular cafe and towards this particular man. But, you were certainly grateful. “Actually, do they have gift cards here? I’d love to buy you one to say thank you and -

“Are you going to walk? Wherever you’re going right now?” When you looked over, you saw that Steve had stood, too. You saw his eyes move towards the door and the far windows up the street where the man from the subway had gone. “I don’t want to overstep but I hope you’ll let me walk you home. Or far enough away to have cleared his radar.”

“I feel like I’ve already wasted enough of your time, Steve.” You truly felt worse and worse for interrupting his afternoon.

“Please, I insist.” Steve tilted his head, half a smirk on his lips. “You just said you owe me one, so. I’m cashing in the favour.”

“The favour repayment you’re cashing in is.. you doing me another favour? Do you know how favours are supposed to work?” Admittedly, you knew you would feel a lot safer having someone walk home with you. And something about Steve made you feel very secure, his presence like a comforting shield.

“C’mon,” Steve replied with a laugh, nudging his head towards the door.

When you stepped onto the sidewalk, you stopped to think. “Let’s go this way.” You turned to the right and Steve followed, staying on your shoulder closest to the street. You walked in a comfortable silence - which made you nervous at first. Then, as your steps fell into a pattern, the quiet soothed you.

You pushed your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you turned down the next block. You looked over at Steve, who turned his head towards you as you shifted. “You didn’t ask anything else about the man.. Who followed me.”

A quiet hum came from Steve. “I didn’t think I should. You seemed shaken up enough.” He shrugged, peering down at you through his glasses. “If you want to talk about it..”

“I work in this big office building in Midtown. The Clifton building?”

Steve motioned his hand diagonally. “Little bagel place downstairs? That’s right down from The Avengers tower, isn’t it?”

You nodded along. Right. Stark Tower was The Avengers Tower, now. It was the most iconic landmark on that block. “Yes. Actually, I work on the 40th floor, which makes for a great angle to see Iron Man coming in.” Your smile was fleeting when you continued on. “It’s a huge building. I work in human resources for this pharmaceutical company.. But there’s a law firm in there, too. Insurance companies, start ups.. Hundreds of people in and out all day long. Yet, that man on the subway has managed to..” You stopped yourself before your chest got too tight. “Let’s just say I’ve seen him around before.”

“Do you know his name?”

“That’s the thing!” You couldn’t help but laugh now, shaking your head in dumbfounded confusion. “No. I have no idea who he is. But he often gets on the same subway line as me, watches me from across the crowd then today..” You stopped and dragged a hand down your face. “It’s a sad truth but I would say most of my friends have been.. Touched inappropriately on the subway before. I guess it’s a weird right of passage or something..”

“Wait - what?” Steve stopped in his tracks and reached his hand out to grab yours. You stopped and looked up at his eyes, somehow both soft and dark with concern. “He touched you? What do you mean?”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering if his ask was authentic. When you saw the disappointment in his face, eyes flooded with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you realized his reaction was genuine. You opened your mouth to explain but suddenly it seemed impossible to find the words.

Steve let go of your hand as he absorbed your lack of response and reached for his phone. “You can file a police report, right?”

“No, no.” You stopped him, placing your hand on his as he held his phone. “Trust me, that’s just paperwork that goes nowhere. Without the guy's name, absolutely nothing would come from it anyway.” You shook your head. “It’s fine, really. I might just adjust my work hours and change my route home for a few weeks. Maybe he’ll give up.”

Steve muttered something to himself, shaking his head. His face shifted from concern to something else, like his brain was working on a different trail of thoughts. He spoke your name quietly, drawing your attention to him again. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Steve’s kindness was a strange contrast to the entire experience on the subway. How one man could have such questionable intentions while another apologizes with sincerity for it was nearly jarring. Although, it did suddenly occur to you that Steve was just as much of a stranger.

“The worst part is.. men like that sever any opportunity for trust in other people. Especially blind trust. Like me telling you, a stranger, where I work and walking you to where I live. Funny enough though - every wire in my brain should be telling me not to and how it was a bad idea but.. I guess there is something about you.”

Steve sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he considered his response. “When you walked into the coffee shop, you could have asked the barista for help or tried to hide out in the bathroom. But you sat next to me instead. How come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Like I said, there's just something about you, Steve.”

You walked in silence again, feet falling into a pattern once more. The sky was growing darker, the air cooler. After crossing the street again, you looked at him. “How do you feel about Prezio being traded to the Orioles?” You reached out and tipped up the brim of his Yankees hat. “A tragedy, right?”

A quiet laugh escaped him as he tipped his head. “I think it was a huge mistake. Don’t you think we’ve had a hard enough year as it is?” Your silence was filled with baseball talk instead and it seemed to put both of you at ease.

“This is me.” You stopped outside of a short apartment complex, pointing a thumb to the door.

Steve smiled, one hand in the pocket of his jacket as he studied you. Was this it? After the wild rollercoaster of emotions you had spilled onto him in the last hour, parting with nothing else seemed empty. Lacking. He opened his mouth and closed it, once then twice.

Finally, you cut in. “Thanks again, Steve. Really. If you hadn’t played along and scared him away.. well, I’m not sure where I would be right now. It means a lot that you cared enough about a stranger to make sure I was safe.”

Steve sighed out your name. “I’m sorry your barometer for kindness is so low.”

You sighed. “Yeah, me too.” Part of you wanted to do something. Say something else. Linger a tiny bit longer. But your feet shuffled and your hand reached for the door. “Have a good night, Steve.”

—

“I need a favour.”

“Well, good morning to you, sunshine. Did you lock yourself out of your computer again? FRIDAY can help with that.”

“Tony, this is serious.”

“Okay, okay. I recognize that scowl. How can I help you?”

“If I provided you some video footage from a security camera, can we track someone down? Figure out who they are? For full transparency, it’s just a civilian.”

“Sounds like we’re operating outside of the law, Rogers. Can you provide me with more context? I don’t mind the grey area - I just like the drama, too.”

Steve sighed, then reluctantly explained himself. The cafe. Your panicked message. The stalker of a man. The way you dismissed it all as a normal, unfortunate side effect of existing as a woman. His barista friend provided him with camera footage but he wasn’t sure it was enough.

Tony pinched between his eyes. “Men are scum. And I say that as someone in the practice of trying to be better. Recovering scum, if you will. I’ll see what I can do. FRIDAY, how quietly can we get into the security database at the Clifton building?”

—

Although you hadn’t lied to Steve, it occurred to you on your journey home that your guard should remain up. Which is why you had actually allowed him to walk you to your aunt’s apartment, instead of your own. She was happy to see you burst through the door and insisted you stay for dinner. That was a tiny silver lining to the whole mess.

The next day though, the thought of going into work was suffocating. So you opted to spend the day working from home instead, which your boss had been agreeable to, at least. One day rolled into two and you successfully avoided the office building until the following Monday. But then, you needed a plan. Next steps, next steps.

You took an Uber to the office early and left late at the end of the day, leaving out the back stairway and crossing a few blocks to take a different subway line home. It was unfortunate you had to cater your life to the chance you would run into this goon again, but your sense of security was slowly returning. That had to count for something.

Things shifted later that week. There was a sudden new policy sent out to all the staff in your office outlining new building ownership and training about sexual harassment policies.

“It’s a long time coming,” you heard someone mutter out in the elevator as you headed down towards the lobby.

“Guess Tony Stark just wants to own the whole block,” their coworker chirped back, pulling to loosen his tie.

There was even more commotion when you exited the elevator and walked towards the large glass doors. A team of NYPD officers were standing outside, shoving someone in the back of their cruiser. Your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t be certain but from that angle, you certainly recognized the bad buzzcut. Your eyes darted around the lobby anxiously and across the room, a small crowd of suits and officers had formed near..

Tony Stark, himself.

Before you could even try to understand what was going on, you heard someone calling your name. You turned your head and saw someone who looked a lot like -

“Steve?” You took a few steps towards him, pausing to glance from him back at Tony Stark and.. “Oh my god. You’re Steve Rogers. Why didn’t you say something?”

Captain America had walked you home. Hidden behind glasses and a hat. And you always considered yourself observant.

Steve just smirked, shrugging a shoulder. “I didn’t think it was important.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Should I be thanking you for all of this chaos?”

Steve furrowed his brow in mock confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe I’m extrapolating here but the same day my subway stalker gets taken away in cuffs, Stark Industries buys out this building and mandates a new policy and code of conduct.”

Steve pursed his lips, swallowing back a mischievous smirk. “Here’s the thing. It occurred to me that your best choice of action after that day was changing your entire life to avoid that man. And I couldn’t help but think about how broken that system was.”

You sighed. It had occurred to you, too. While you were relieved to shake the man from your trail, your mind considered he would probably turn his attention to someone else. And that wouldn’t be fair.

“Well, Cap. Job well done. That scum of a man had priors in Jersey, too.” Tony Stark himself had walked to where you and Steve stood. His hand clapped on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re at least going to ask her out, right? I mean, I bought an entire building for you - make a move, pal.”

Steve flushed pink and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“I’m getting a bagel. You want a bagel?” Tony raised an eyebrow from you to Steve again, smiling proudly.

“I’m good. I recommend the poppy seed though!” You called as Tony flitted away, narrowly avoiding a proper looking blonde woman who seemed very tired.

You turned your attention back to Steve. “He seems like a lot.”

“He is.” Steve nodded, motioning his hand. “I know it’s only one thing, maybe a ripple in making a difference but.. I’m hoping one less inappropriate person on the subway can give you peace of mind.”

You smiled again. Though you had seen many appearances by Captain America on the news, seeing the man in person was different. It seemed Steve Rogers walked the walk. After parting ways with him before, though he had crossed your mind, you didn’t anticipate your menial issues leading to this.

“Thanks. Really. Even one person makes a difference.” You reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you, Steve.”

“I’m sorry about Tony, though. His comments about asking you out and.. that certainly wasn’t my goal here.”

“I don’t know. You just did me a huge favour getting rid of that gremlin. I think I owe you.”

Steve caught your cheeky smile and stood up a bit straighter. “Well, in that case, the Yankees are playing the Sox tomorrow night. Tony never uses his tickets and the seats aren’t half bad. What do you say?”

“You’re cashing in this favour to take me on a date? Usually people ask for help moving or a ride to the airport or something.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “Sure. I guess you can take me to the game, Steve. If you ask politely, I’ll probably even hold your hand.”

After work the next day, Steve met you outside and you took the subway together to the stadium. You knew this wasn’t the end of it for you or anyone else worried about their personal boundaries being crossed. But, as you gripped the subway pole and your fingers grazed against Steve’s, you could finally breathe again. For the first time in a while, you weren’t anticipating next steps.

It was just you and the kind stranger from the coffee shop.

[fellulahh]

The Point of No Return - Part 2/???, Diavolo x MC x Lucifer

Diavolo on the other hand was intrigued by the curiosity that crossed his mind over the human. He didn’t have a clue about the two pianos.

In fact, he didn’t know if the one in the palace was more superior at all.

-

Sitting once again in front of the piano, MC found herself staring at the keys; excitement filling her body. Ever since leaving the palace the previous night, all she could think of were various pieces she could practice.

Well, that’s not actually true. While she did daydream about the instrument a lot, her mind was also distracted by Lucifer.

When the pair returned back to the House of Lamentation, MC had followed him to his study while the other brothers went to their rooms. She’d noticed how quiet he had been on their journey home and wanted to find out why.

Lucifer hadn’t even realised that MC followed him back to his study. He only noticed he wasn’t alone when he didn’t hear his door shut behind him like usual.

Having observed the silence, Lucifer turned around and was startled to see the human stood in the doorway.

“MC.” He breathed, “you’re following me?”

“Yes.” She answered, stepping forward, “I wanted to speak with you.”

“You’re speaking.” He stated simply, walking toward his desk before taking a seat, “I hope it’s quick - I have lot of paperwork to get through.”

Although it wasn’t out of his character to be dismissive, MC could still sense something deeper to his cold behaviour. Copying his movements and stepping closer to his desk, MC tilted her head.

“I only wanted to see if you’re okay.” She spoke softly, “You’ve seemed quiet ever since dinner.”

“I am merely just tired, MC.” Lucifer palmed her off, his eyes studying the various papers that were in front of him, “I don’t wish for you to be concerned about me - it’s a waste of time.”

“Lord Diavolo said you spoke very kindly of me tonight.” MC changed the subject, not taking her eyes off Lucifer despite him not return the gaze.

She noticed him grow stiff.

“That I did.” He sighed before sitting back. His face softened as he finally met eyes with MC. “You know I love to watch you play.”

“I do.” MC smiled warmly, “You’re the one who encouraged me to do so.”

The smallest of smiles made its wait onto Lucifer’s face but it soon disappeared again as he resumed his previous position; hunched over his desk.

“Yes well...” he mumbled, “It’d be stupid of me not to.”

Scribbling various notes with his fountain pen, Lucifer’s eyebrows knitted as MC remained in front of him. The silence between the two of them was strong; tension vastly growing.

Lucifer could feel the human’s stare on him and he wanted nothing more than for MC to just leave him in peace.

The proud brother had a growing annoyance deep in the pit of his mind that he hadn’t been able to shift since Diavolo took MC away earlier that night. Was it jealousy that he felt?

No, it couldn’t be.

As much as Lucifer told himself it wasn’t jealousy, he couldn’t explain the glare he gave Diavolo that night when he re-entered the room with MC close by. He recognised the smile that the Prince had on his lips. It was the same smile Lucifer had when he first witnessed MC and her musical gift.

Late one evening in one of the classrooms at RAD, Lucifer found himself gripping fists of his hair as he stared at the mountains of work in front of him. Despite arriving earlier than usual that day to plough through his tons of paperwork, it hadn’t seem to have shifted all day. And with the clock ticking, the time getting later and later, the demon found himself growing more and more frustrated.

Taking a deep sigh, he sat back in his chair and reached for his coffee mug. He was startled at how effortless it was to pick it up before quickly realising why; it was empty.

Defeated, his eyes studied the dark, brown ring that circled the bottom of his mug. He’d lost count of how many coffees he’d had that day. Quickly glancing at his watch with his tired eyes, he let out another deep breath.

“One more.” He seethed to himself, pushing himself away from the desk so that he could stand.

Leaving the classroom, Lucifer began descending through the labyrinth of corridors toward the tearoom where he’d make himself another brew.

The building was practically deserted with everyone having gone home. It wasn’t unusual for Lucifer to be the only demon left most nights so he was used to how eerily quiet it was. The only sound that could be heard was the click of his heels against the vinyl floor.

However, on this night, as he entered the millennium wing of RAD, he slowed his steps the moment he walked through the door.

It was no longer silent.

Lucifer was completely startled after realising was he could hear was...music?

‘Who on earth is here so late?’ He questioned to himself before diverting his route rather than continuing to the tearoom.

Marching down the corridor, he followed the noise; adamant on finding out who else was roaming the halls so late at night. He poked his head through every door; his eyes quickly scanning the rooms as he drew closer.

But then he soon became even more curious as he realised what room he was nearing.

For many years RAD had a room that was never used. Why was it never used? Because there was no reason to utilise it! Education in Devildom is strictly about hexes, demon anatomy and other demonic subjects. There was never time for the arts. And that’s exactly why nobody ever used the room abandoned with various instruments; because nobody had the time or care to ever play one.

That is until the human exchange student came along.

Lucifer’s curiosity turned to concern as he wondered who could be in the room. But then, as he stood in the doorway, his heart suddenly thudded in his chest as the very last person he expected to see was sat inside.

“MC...” he whispered to himself.

Not even noticing Lucifer stood nearby, MC’s body swayed as she recalled one of the classical pieces she’d learnt in the human realm; effortlessly playing every single note.

Lucifer had never heard anything like it. In complete awe, he forgot about the work he’d left on his desk and the coffee he’d planned to make. Instead of turning back and returning to his original plans, Lucifer stepped into the room.

His crimson eyes studied MC carefully; noticing the way her eyebrows furrowed and her tongue poked out between her lips as she concentrated.

Noticing something move in the corner of her eyes, MC quickly glanced up and froze when she saw Lucifer. Her body jolted the moment she saw him; startled by his company.

“Christ, Lucifer!” MC breathed when she recognised him, “are you trying to scare the life out of me?”

“Why did you never tell me you could play the piano?” He asked, completely ignoring her previous comment.

“Well this is actually the first time I’ve played in a few years.” MC answered, narrowing her eyes at Lucifer as she was bewildered by his expression. “I got lost trying to find my lecturer’s office today and ended up finding this room instead.”

“Why have you not played in a few years?” He questioned further.

“I don’t know.” MC answered truthfully, “I suppose with working and everything else that comes with growing up, I never found the time to play like I used to as a child.”

Lucifer’s face softened as he blinked. “Mm.” He mumbled with a slight nod of the head. “That’s a shame. Your playing is rather enchanting.”

MC smiled at Lucifer’s unexpected compliment. “Enchanting?” She questioned.

“Yes, enchanting.” He repeated, “I haven’t heard music like that since I was in the celestial realm.”

Just being in MC’s company made Lucifer’s mind ease. Despite the piles of paperwork he still had, he found himself relaxing.

MC found herself blushing as her curious eyes remained of Lucifer. She could read the trouble in his expression.

Suddenly Lucifer became sheepish; not a rare occurrence but certainly an uncommon one.

“Could I perhaps ask something of you?” He questioned.

“What’s that?” MC asked curiously.

“May i bring my work here and listen to you play?” He requested, “it’d seem your melodies have made me think straight for the first time today and may be my only hope of getting through my paperwork.”

The human smiled at his request, to which he returned the gesture. Nobody had ever seem to admire her playing like he’d just expressed.

“Of course.” She beamed.

—

Unable to focus, Lucifer glanced up from his desk and met MC’s concerned eyes.

His expression grew soft as they joined gazes. But being the stubborn demon he is, he soon deprived himself from that little cry coming from his heart. Shutting off, his crimson eyes darkened and he looked down.

“I’m very busy, MC.” He informed her, as he began making more notes, “if there’s nothing else to discuss I must ask that you leave me be.”

MC wasn’t satisfied with their conversation. But nevertheless, she followed his word and turned around; making her way to the door.

Hearing the handle turn, Lucifer quickly glanced up once more; only for a mere second as he watched the human leave.

“My angel of music...” he breathed.

—

Find Part 1 here!

A/N: so now we have some more Luci context! What are your thoughts?

[bluejayblueskies]

agape

n. selfless, sacrificial, and unconditional love; love that motivates action, often for the sake or care of others 

Words: 2.3k Relationship: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood Tags: AU - Tea Shop/Bookstore, Fluff, Asexual Jonathan Sims Warnings: internalized acephobia/biphobia (minor,), fear of homo/ace/transphobia (brief, unfounded)

|| Ao3 ||

.

Martin remembers, with crystal clarity, the first time that he saw Jonathan Sims. Martin’s tea shop opens at seven in the morning to accommodate the morning commuter crowd, but they’re really busiest in the afternoon, which is when most people deign to take a break from whatever work they’ve got for the day.

 Jonathan Sims is not most people. At promptly seven, the jingle of the little bell that Tim had hung over the door once as a joke but that had lingered out of sheer practicality had cut through the gentle humming of the kettle, the small one that Martin preferred in the morning as it took no time at all to heat and the small volume of customers generally didn’t warrant the larger, stainless steel water heaters that sat along the back wall. Martin had had a box of loose-leaf English breakfast in his hand as he turned; he remembers the way the bitter smell of the leaves had mingled with the cool blast of winter air that swept through the door, carrying with it the scent of something acrid and ashy.

 Cigarette smoke, his mind helpfully supplied. Then, Martin’s eyes found the man who had entered the shop, his mouth forming the automatic greeting the bell always elicited from him, a well-trained habit that made him feel not dissimilar to Pavlov’s dog.

 “Welcome to Blackwood Blends! What can I get started for you?”

The man—and the likely source of the burnt smell still lingering in the air—startled slightly at the sound of Martin’s voice, like he hadn’t been expecting to be addressed directly. He was wrapped in a comically large scarf, knit from chunky yarn and laced with warm yellow and midnight black, and he looked like the kind of person who might blow away in the wind if he wasn’t careful. His hair, long and brown, was streaked through with grey and seemed to be fighting a losing battle with the hat that was currently struggling to keep it contained. There were at least two jumpers of startlingly different colors peeking out from underneath a heavy black pea coat that was missing a button near the bottom.

 He was also quite possibly the most beautiful person Martin had ever seen.

 He was there and gone before Martin quite knew what was happening, cradling a steaming travel mug of Ceylon close to his chest like it alone could drive away the January chill, and Martin found himself watching him through the café window as he crossed the street with barely more than a cursory glance in each direction, fumbled with something in his pockets for a moment, and finally vanished into the building across the street.

 Beholding Books & Antiquities, the sign above the door said in curling calligraphy, barely visible from this distance.

 Martin wondered, briefly, if they had poetry.

 Martin knows now that they do, but that the man—whose name, he’d learned on the man’s next visit to the tea shop, is Jon—wrinkles his nose when people purchase them like they’ve caused him some great offense. He knows that Jon never gets the same tea twice in a row, and though he’s cycled through every possible blend that Martin’s shop carries, he’s not a fan of herbals and finds himself returning to earthy greens and floral blacks. (Which, unfortunately, includes oolong, which may be the only kind of tea that Martin can’t stand.) He knows that the bookshop opens at ten in the morning (but that Jon never arrives later than eight) and that unlike the surge of afternoon customers Martin’s shop gets, the bookshop receives a steady trickle of local customers and curious tourists throughout the day.

 He knows that Jon smiles like it’s a secret he can’t quite decide if he wants to share and that Jon’s fingers are warm and soft when they brush against Martin’s as he hands Martin his new purchase and that he might be just a little bit in love with Jon.

 He spends quite a lot of time browsing for books nowadays, to Tim and Sasha’s eternal amusement. But he can’t bring himself to mind.

 Now, the nip of winter air is far behind them, and the lovely warmth of June seeps in through the cracks in the windows and in bursts as the door opens and closes. He always gets more business in winter, when the promised warmth of a cup of tea lures customers in from the cold, but it’s steady enough in the summer. And though Martin’s always been a lover of bulky jumpers and drinks that warm you from the inside out and breath that fogs in winter air, he can’t help but love the onset of summer, because it brings with it June and his favorite yearly tradition: Pride month tea blends.

 Martin finishes scrawling the various specialty drinks onto the chalkboard he keeps propped up on the counter, feeling a little burst of pride at the new tea blends he’s selected for this year. He creates them all himself, making little changes from year to year and brewing cup after cup for Tim and Sasha to try until he thinks they must be sick of tasting ten different versions of fruity Earl Greys. It just feels nice, to put a piece of himself into each cup he makes, and beyond that, the shyly excited looks some customers get when they order a certain blend fills him with a warmth that tingles in his veins for hours after.

 It feels nice, to take care of people this way. To let people find themselves in his tea and to share a bit of himself in kind.

 So when the bell jingles and Martin glances up from the blackboard to see Jon standing just inside the doorway, blinking as his eyes adjust to the dimness of the café, the thrum of affection that always overtakes him when he sees Jon is magnified tenfold, accompanied in equal part by a bite of nervousness. Because, he realizes, for all that he and Jon have talked about their jobs and favorites and hobbies and everything in between, they’ve never talked about this.

 Martin’s never been shy about it. His jacket is plastered with rainbow-striped patches, his bag adorned with enamel pins in purple-black-white-greys and in blue-pink-whites. He knows Jon’s seen them. Jon has to have seen them. He’s just… never mentioned it. And Martin gets the brief, terrifying, and completely unfounded worry that it’s because Jon is bothered by it.

 He shakes the thought off as quickly as it had come. No, he knows Jon. He knows that behind the prickly exterior, Jon is kind—so, so kind, and that he cares more about other people than he lets on. With a small, anxious laugh that Martin barely keeps contained beyond a brief exhalation, Martin realizes that he also knows that Jon is possibly also the most oblivious person Martin knows. It’s infinitely more likely that Jon hasn’t noticed—or has noticed and has decided not to say anything—than that Jon is somehow a completely different person than the one Martin’s gotten to know over the past five months.

 “Are you all right?”

 Martin startles so badly that he drops the chalk. It rolls dangerously close to the edge of the counter before a thin-fingered hand captures it mid-motion and holds it out toward Martin, the dusty white stark against his brown skin. Martin takes the chalk with a sheepish smile and says, “Ah, sorry—got a bit, er. Distracted.” Then, in a quasi-professional voice, because he is at work: “What can I get for you, Jon?”

 Jon doesn’t even glance at the menu; Martin’s almost certain that he has it memorized by now. He taps a finger on the counter, and as he thinks, his eyes wander downward, landing on the chalkboard that’s still laid flat against the counter, the bottom left corner slightly smudged. “Are these new blends?” Jon asks, eyes bright and curious. He tilts his head, trying to see the words better, and Martin quickly stands the chalkboard up on its wooden feet and returns it to its spot on the counter so that it’s easier to read.

 Well, no time like the present, I suppose.

 “They’re, ah, my seasonal blends!” Martin says with a smile he hopes doesn’t look as nervous as it feels. “I always do them in June.” He lets out a little, disarming laugh. “My own way of celebrating Pride month, you know?”

 Jon’s eyes are scanning the chalkboard with an intensity that makes Martin shift from one foot to the other at a pace far too quick to be casual, his hands finding the edge of the counter and gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. He can’t read Jon’s face; there’s something there, just below the surface, but he can’t get a handle on it. It keeps slipping away like wet bar soap when he tries too hard to get a grip on it, and eventually, he just gives up, waiting for Jon to finish with his heartbeat sitting high in his throat.

 Finally, after a period of time that feels just shy of an eternity and certainly too long to have been simply considering the merits of one tea blend over another, Jon looks at Martin with an expression that feels strangely vulnerable. “I… I can’t decide,” he says quietly, like this decision carries the weight of the entire world. He points a thin finger at the middle of the board, where bisexual berry is scrawled in spiraling letters that constitute Martin’s attempt at calligraphy. It’s an herbal blend, with bits of freeze-dried blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries. “I like most of this blend,” he says, “but er. Not on its own?” His finger moves down, nearly smudging the words asexual almond as it comes to rest atop the ingredients below them—Assam tea, almond flavoring, cinnamon sticks, and little white blossoms that Martin includes purely for the visual effect. “Some people think that black tea wouldn’t go well with herbal,” Jon says, studying the board like it has the secret to life itself scrawled upon the dusty black, “but they’re really not that different at all. It’s all tea, and- and liking one kind of tea doesn’t preclude you from liking another kind, right? So asking me to- to decide between one kind of tea and another is—well, it’s just ridiculous. There’s tea that I like and tea that I don’t and I don’t have to pick just one.”

 Jon’s still staring at the blackboard, his forehead creased in what could be concentration but could also be irritation. It’s still early enough that the tea shop is empty save for them; Tim and Sasha don’t come in until after noon as usually, Martin can handle the morning crowds by himself. And Martin is really quite sure that this isn’t about his tea at all. So, in the gentlest tone he can muster, Martin says, “You can order more than one kind of tea, you know.”

 Jon jerks his hand back, almost like he’d forgotten Martin was there. “I—what?”

 Feeling significantly less nervous than before, Martin adjusts the sign so that he can see it better and says, “These are all just suggestions, Jon. Blends that I like and ones that I’ve found that other people like too, but they’re not set in stone—people have all kinds of preferences, and when it comes down to it, it- it’s all just tea.” Then, because apparently he’s feeling bold today: “I- I can make a new blend if you’d like? One that, er.” Just say it, Martin. “One that’s for you, specifically. Whatever you’d like.”

 Jon’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he stares up at Martin, and Martin can’t help but shift nervously under his gaze. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that, that was weird, what a weird thing to say when someone’s coming out to you with bad tea metaphors, fuck fuck—

 “If- if you’d like,” Jon says quietly, slamming Martin’s thought spiral headfirst into a brick wall and nearly knocking him off his feet as he registers that Jon just said yes. “I’d like that. Though I- I do enjoy the flavors of berries and almonds together.” He smiles then, a wry thing that sends Martin’s pulse into the stratosphere and his stomach aflutter with butterflies whose wings gleam an iridescent rainbow against the backs of his eyes. (Not his best bit of poetic imagery, to be true, but he’s a little too busy being utterly in love with Jonathan Sims to think about much else.)

 Martin makes the tea, choosing the black over the herbal because elaborate metaphor or not, Jon really isn’t a fan of herbal teas. Blueberry is a strong enough taste to pair with the bitterness of the black tea and it couples well with almond and cinnamon, creating a flavor profile not unlike that of a blueberry muffin. And because Martin can’t help but think of Jon every time he smells it, he switches out the Assam for a Lapsang Souchong and Earl Grey blend—smoky and floral, smooth enough that it won’t overbalance the other flavors but robust enough to stand out.

 When Jon accepts the mug and takes his first hesitant sip, his face lights up in a way that Martin wants to see all day, every day for the rest of his life. And when Jon smiles at him, says, achingly soft, “Thank you, Martin. I love it,” and cautiously, gently places his hand over Martin’s where it sits on the counter, Martin thinks, for the first time, that maybe he can.

 Wouldn’t that be nice, he thinks. And the smile he gives Jon in return feels like a blank-paged book, waiting to be filled.

[mistymazzello]

Illicit Affairs | chapter 4

Joe Mazzello x Reader

summary-Y/N, a failing actress in New York City, is offered an internship as Joe Mazzello’s assistant on the set of a movie. Her seemingly small crush on her boss could get her into trouble, but what does she have to lose?

word count- 6.1k (i got a little carried away)

warnings- smut, unprotected sex, all that stuff. (by reading on you’re confirming that you’re 18+😳)

a/n- i promise this last week and i’m just now posting it and i’m SO SORRY. pls let me know what you think!

based on illicit affairs by taylor swift

September turned over to October, bringing cold weather and days that slowly became shorter. You were done trying to stop your feelings for Joe, there was no stopping how you tirelessly obsessed over him. It made it worse that it almost, almost felt like he was reciprocating. But still, not quite. 

Joe finally started lightening up on scheduling, giving everyone a few days off every now and then and not having extremely early call times. This meant you weren’t leaving the apartment at 6 in the morning and coming back at 8 anymore, leaving time for you to be around your roommates. Now, did you want that time? Not exactly.

Cameron had hardly spoken two words to you since everything that happened the previous month, leaving an awkward tension always hanging around the apartment. One morning, the sky completely gray, leaving the city shakingly cold, Cameron walked into the kitchen while you stood on the phone as you poured coffee.

You were talking to Julia, who had called you to ask if you had any time to do some of her busy work for her, which you weren’t necessarily sure if you did, but you agreed to anyway. The phone call ended with her making some Fleetwood Mac reference that you didn’t understand, but you laughed either way. You hung up and set your phone down as you slowly stirred your coffee, Cameron sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter.

“Was that the director?” She asked softly.

You looked up, slightly stunned. “Um, no. Producer.” You answered.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What does he want?”

“She just has some things that she needs me to do today.” You said. It was weird that she all of the sudden was trying to talk to you.

“So you like working on the movie then?” She asked.

You blinked. Was she trying to actually talk to you? “Yeah, I love it. I think it’s great.”

She nodded. “You think the movie’s gonna be good?”

You could’ve smiled. This was the first conversation the two of you had in weeks. You had to admit, you missed your best friend. “Yeah, actually it looks really good. I’m excited for it.” 

You pulled another mug from the cupboard and poured the rest of the coffee you had made into it, sliding it across the counter to her. She accepted it, picking it up to wrap her hands around it.

“I’m sorry that I got so mad.” She said, looking into her mug. It was a little late for an apology, but still, you accepted.

“It’s okay. You were upset.” You shrugged. 

She nodded and took a long sip from her coffee, still never looking up to meet your eyes.

“So can we stop being weird now? I miss how things were.” You said, setting your own mug on the counter.

She laughed slightly. “Yes. I was hoping we could stop doing this.” She smiled.

You sighed in relief and finally, things were normal. How they were supposed to be. Things felt more in place than ever as you went to set that day. Today was supposedly going to be very easy, but you had a sneaking suspicion that you were going to be there rather late.

Just as you had suspected, before you knew it, the sky was turning dark. Joe finally called it a day at 8, much to everyone’s relief.

“Go get some sleep, kid.” He hit the back of your head with his clipboard playfully.

“First off, ow.” You laughed, holding your hand to the back of your head.

“Have a good night, Mr. Mazzello.” Beck spoke as he pulled his jacket on.

“You too, Mr. Beck.” He saluted him.

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you wistfully watched him walk away. Why did he have to be so nice to you?

Something you had noticed was how close this cast and crew was. You weren’t as involved in that closeness as you would have liked to be, but you figured it was because you were much younger than all of them, and you were just about at the bottom of the food chain in terms of power.

You saw a few cast members congregating near Joe, so you decided that you weren't going to interrupt to tell Joe goodbye, you figured you could just text him something about heading out instead.

A little ways away from you, Joe saw you waving bye to a few people and his heart sunk. Before thinking, he cut off one of the actors who was talking. “Hey, do you care if I invite Y/N?”

A few people turned around to look in your direction, luckily you had your back turned to them.

“The intern?” One of them asked.

Joe quickly realized how desperate he must have sounded asking like that. “Yeah,” He said, shrugging, “She’s nice, I think you guys would like her.”

He wasn’t lying about that. He knew everyone would like you, and you were nice. But he wanted to invite you because he desperately wanted to spend more time around you, specifically outside of work.

They all agreed, and the conversation moved forward about the bar that they were going to that night. Joe excused himself and jogged over to you, right as you were about to leave. 

You saw him coming out of the corner of your eye and you turned in his direction, smiling. “Hey, I was just about to go.”

Disregarding what you said, he asked, “Me and a few people from the cast are going out for drinks, do you wanna come?”

“Tonight?” You responded, a bit taken back. You were a little too excited to be receiving this offer, but you tried your hardest to conceal the smile that was already on your face.

“Yeah.” He said, “I think we’re just gonna uber there in like 20 minutes.”

You weren’t used to receiving invitations like this, especially since you left college. “Oh.” You said, trying not to sound like a complete spaz. 

“So if you wanna stick around, I can tell you when we’re leaving?” He said, his hands in his pockets as he rocked onto his toes.

“Yeah, sure.” You smiled, wringing your hands together. 

He nodded and looked at the ground. He could hardly believe the way he was acting right now, it reminded him of high school. He was acting like a complete idiot, all because of you. All because of that stupid smile on your face.

“Oh,” he remembered, “and don’t tell Beck. He’s not invited.” He winked before walking away. He really shouldn’t be picking favorites like this, but how could he help it when one of you was a stuck up asshole and the other one was as sweet as you were?

Regardless, you were glad he liked you. It gave you some sort of validation for your feelings, even though deep down, you knew that your crush on him was hopeless.

When you showed up to the bar, it was freezing outside, yet incredibly warm inside. By the time you were shedding your jacket, which was only seconds after sitting down, Joe had ordered shots for everyone, saying that you had to take them in honor of the 12 hour day you had just worked. There were about 11 or 12 of you, spread out between a few booths. The bar wasn’t terribly busy, taken that it was a Wednesday night, but still, this was New York City, so places were always bustling. You were sat by Julia and a few of the other girls, subconsciously clinging to Julias presence like she was your mom. You got talking with a few of them, all of them remarkably talkative. The girl across from you, Charlotte, who was probably the closest to your age out of everyone, began talking to you about the internship.

After you explained the whole situation about how you got the internship, conveniently leaving out the part about Cameron, you were about to ask her about how she had got casted, but she spoke first. “You know, everyone loves you. No offense if he’s your friend, but I think I speak for everyone when I say we prefer you over Beck.”

“Oh, god, he’s not my friend.” You laughed. “He hates me.”

“Oh my god,” Her eyes lit up “He hates me too! I’m always like, dude, you need to calm the fuck down.” She said, picking up her drink to take a sip.

“Me too! He always says I’m unprofessional.” You frowned.

“I think he has some personal issues he needs to sort out.” She said.

“Mommy issues.” Julia piped up before finishing off her glass.

The three of you laughed, the attention shifting swiftly over to the girl sitting next to Charlotte, Lola, who was whispering something in her ear. 

“Oh, god, Lola, don’t be gross.” She groaned.

Lola pulled away and grabbed her drink off the table then looked back at Charlotte. “Wish me luck.” She smiled.

You tilted your head slightly as she stood up from the table, walking slowly over to the bar. Wondering what she needed luck for, you tried not to stare as she approached the bar. You didn’t pay any mind to Joe, who was standing next to her, until she began to talk to him.

Your face flushed as you realized what she was doing. She was trying to flirt with Joe. It wasn’t until you looked back at the table until you realized that Charlotte and Julia were both looking at her, too.

Julia looked back and you exchanged a glance. “Is she...?”

“Trying to sleep with Joe? Yes.” Charlotte said, looking slightly disgusted.

You didn’t say anything as you looked into your drink, swirling the glass around as you contemplated your defeat. She was at least 7 or 8 years older than you, much closer to Joe’s age, an established actress, and much more in his league. All at once, you began to realize how stupid you were for ever thinking you and Joe had something between you. 

“She could get into big trouble for that.” Julia chided. “It’s in the contract that all of you signed. No relationships.”

“Does fucking count as a relationship?” Charlotte set her chin in her palm.

Julia chuckled. “No, I guess not, if it’s not ongoing.”

“Ah, then she has a chance.” Charlotte said, all three of you turning your attention back to the two of them.

Over at the bar, Joe's mind was scrambling. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what Lola was doing. He’d seen it a million times. He wanted to be nice, but he wanted to cut this off before it went any further and he had to reject her. He had been waiting for the right moment to approach you without making it seem like he was hitting on you. He genuinely just wanted to talk to you.

But, as the minutes passed, Lola was not taking any hints. She continued to talk, continued to touch his arm playfully, even though Joe was reciprocating none of it.

Julia ended up leaving within the next 30 minutes, saying something about how her partying days were far behind her. You and Charlotte stayed at the table, ordering drink after drink, giggling as you talked about your past relationships, it almost made you forget about what was going on across the room.

“I have you beat on the worst breakup.” She laughed. “A guy once broke up with me after I flew across the country to see him. On my birthday.”

You gasped dramatically. “No.”

“Yes.” She laughed. “Arguably the worst day of my life.”

The two of you sat, giggly and tipsy, for a few quiet moments. “Why didn’t I know you were so fun?” She asked “I feel like we’ve hardly ever talked before and we’re around each other everyday.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel like a bit of an outsider because I’m so much younger than everyone.” You opened up. If you didn’t have any alcohol in your system, you would have never said this to her.

“Aw,” She frowned “Like I said, Y/N, we all love you. Everyone always mentions how sweet you are.” 

“Really?” You smiled.

‘Yes, really. Especially Joe. He never shuts up about you.” She said. 

You looked into her dark eyes and tilted your head. “What? Really?” Your heart could’ve jumped out of your chest.

“Yeah, he’s always like ‘Oh, I’m gonna wait up for Y/N. Have you seen Y/N yet today? Y/N this, Y/N that” She imitated him, her hands waving around as she did a horrible impression of his voice.

You laughed a little, your smile never faltered. Was she telling the truth? Did he talk about you so much that she had noticed it?

You finally remembered the whole Lola thing, your eyes glancing over the bar. Now they were sitting down, she was leaning over to him, talking, as he took a drink. You sighed and looked back at Charlotte, who was downing the rest of her third or fourth drink.

“I should probably go pull her off of him.” She sighed, her eyes following yours over to the bar. “She’s drunk as fuck, she needs to go home and maybe try again when she’s not wasted.”

She gave you a pat on the head, making you smile, as she stood up. “I’ll see you on Saturday.” She said, giving your head one last pat before walking over to the bar. You watched as she came up behind Lola, resting her hand on her back and giving her a soft smile as she spoke to her. It was obvious that Lola was resisting, but Charlotte was persistent, and she eventually hopped off of her chair and followed her. The two of them waved to you as they walked out of the bar, you gave them a quick grin and waved back. You almost sighed in relief. You had finally made some friends.

Joe was now sitting by himself at the bar, and you alone at the table. As long as you didn’t try anything like Lola did, you didn’t think it would be weird if you went and sat by him. Maybe that was the alcohol talking, but you still got up and walked over to him, pulling the stool out to sit down next to him.

When he had originally heard the stool next to him move, he thought it was just another girl trying to talk to him, and he almost let out an exasperated sigh. But it wasn’t just another girl. It was you. Instead, he sighed in relief.

“Hey, kid.” He said, taking a drink from his beer.

“Hi.” You said, scooting the chair in.

“You have fun?” He asked, setting his beer down to turn to you.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Charlotte’s so nice.”

“Good.” He gave you a closed mouth smile. “I’m glad.”

You realized that you had left your drink back at the table when you all of the sudden had nothing to do with your hands. Joe must have noticed at the same time, because just as you were about to order something, he beat you to it.

“Can we get two shots of fireball?” He asked.

“Oh god.” You set your face in your palm. 

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to drink it.” He said.

“What, you’re going to take both to try and impress me?” You giggled, setting your forearms on the counter.

He shook his head with a small laugh as the bartender handed them over. He set one in front of you and one in front of him.

“Okay.” He started. “Truth or drink.”

“Oh,” You smiled “I can do that.”

“Ladies first.” He smirked, crossing his arms as he looked at you. It almost felt like he was taunting you, his arms almost making you drool as they stretched out his shirt.

You smirked back. Only thinking for a quick moment, you knew what you wanted to ask. “When’s the last time you slept with someone?” You asked, a cocky look on your face. Even if you were crossing a line by asking that, you could hardly care. It felt hotter than it did when you had first gotten there, but that could be coming from the warm feeling in your cheeks from the alcohol. Or because you were blushing. He wasn’t going to answer something like that to you.

He tilted his head slightly, looking at the shot. “Last month?” He estimated. You were a little bit shocked that he answered, and that he didn’t hesitate to do so.

Your eyebrows must have been raised or your eyes must have been wide, because he asked, “What? Did you think I was gonna say 3 years ago?” 

“What? No,” You laughed “I just… who?” You asked, almost out of instinct. Almost out of jealousy.

“Nope. Not your turn.” He shook his head. He leaned closer to you, prompting you to lean closer to him. “If you had to have sex with one guy in this bar, right now, who would it be?” He said, his voice low, even though no one around would be able to hear anyways over the buzz of the crowd. 

You hummed in thought, turning away from him to look around you. “I think…” You started, turning back to lean forward into him “the bartender down at the other end is cute enough?” You lied.

Joe’s jaw clenched. He didn’t know what he expected, but he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Before he could respond, you cleared your throat, unbeknownst to him that you had noticed his reaction. 

“My turn.” You smiled. You went back and forth for a little while longer, desperately trying to ask a question to get the other person to drink, but nothing worked. The bar was loud, there were lots of people around, but still, you could only see each other. You could only feel the way his shoulder was rubbing against yours, you could only smell the whiskey on his breath and you could only think about how much you wanted him right now.

A few rounds later, it was Joe’s turn. He could feel the heat radiating from your face, and he thought your top was ridiculously low cut. Especially when you leaned over the bar. The way your knee would bump his was driving him crazy. It prompted him to come up with this question.

“What’s the oldest you’d be willing to sleep with?” He said, his expression straight and serious.

You reached to rub the back of your neck under your hair as you thought. Your heart began to quicken as you thought of all of the possible responses, until you finally settled on what happened to be one of the most risky answers. “Well,” You began, subconsciously leaning in so you were closer to his face, “How old are you?”

His jaw clenched again, but this time, not out of anger or jealousy. Out of lust and pent up desire.  “Oh,” He said, his hand which was already brushing your knee moved from his leg to ghost over the top of yours. “Is that how it is?” His hand came to rest on your thigh, and he slid it so it was just slightly underneath your skirt on the inside of your thigh. 

“Joe,” You breathed, closing your eyes as you clenched your thighs, trapping his fingertips. 

“Yes?” He spoke softly into your ear, his voice low and sharp.

“Please.” You pouted, still not opening your eyes. His hand was warm on your inner thigh, but not as hot as the heat radiating from under your panties, which you thought Joe could for sure feel.

Just like that, he ripped his hand away from you, earning a whine from your lips as you leaned your head back. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, your eyes watched his hands intently. He pulled out a 50 and tossed it onto the bar, then stood up. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you off your chair. “Let’s go.” He grumbled, lightening his grip on your wrist to let his hand slide into yours. He practically pulled you out of the bar, and even though it was a cool fall night outside, you were still burning up.

He hailed a cab quickly as your head spun by how quickly things had turned. Even though both of you were as horny as you had ever been before, he still opened the taxi door for you. You climbed in, settling in the seat on the opposite side of the door before Joe climbed in, telling the driver his address quickly before moving to the middle seat to immediately grab your inner thigh roughly. Your hand wrapped around his bicep, you squeezed his arm to try and distract yourself from the wetness pooling in your underwear. His grip was deathly and his breathing was harsh as the two of you sat in heated silence. You had to physically try to stop yourself from making any further moves on him, opting to rest your forehead on his shoulder. In a moment of sweetness rather than lust, Joe kissed the top of your head lighty. Although the moment did make your heart melt, you still couldn’t focus on anything other than how badly you needed him.

“How far are we from your apartment?” You lifted your head up to whisper.

“Like 2 minutes.” He said. You let out a low, short groan. 

“I know, baby.” He whispered.

You had decided that this had been the longest two minutes of your life. Between the way Joe’s legs kept twitching, to how his hand was slowly moving up your thigh, riding your skirt up, you were almost on the verge of tears by the time you pulled up to Joe’s apartment. He handed the driver some money, mumbling something about keeping the change as the two of you climbed out.

He grabbed your hand and you both tried not to sprint into the apartment building. The elevator ride was almost as excruciating as the taxi. You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other, his hand moving from the small of your back to squeeze your ass, earning a sharp breath in from you.

He fumbled with the key as he tried to unlock his door as quickly as possible. As if you could get anymore impatient, you were 2 seconds away from ripping the key out of his hands and doing it yourself when he finally opened the door, grabbing you by the fabric of your shirt and pulling you inside. It was pitch black, the only light coming from the city lights outside the windows. Using the grip he had on your shirt to turn you towards him, he pulled you into him. He kissed you messily, slowly backing you up until your back hit the door. It was a mess of clashing teeth and tongue as you desperately kissed each other, all of the pent up desire coming out all at once. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you stood on your toes to kiss him, his hands moving from your hips to your ass. He slid one of his hands down to the underside of your thigh, lifting your leg up so your knee was at his side. He growled into your mouth and you could only manage a whimper, your mind scrambling for a single coherent thought. He lifted his leg slightly to rub against your core, his jeans creating a rough texture. Instinctually, you grinded against his thigh, but your movements were limited as he had you pinned against the door.

He broke away, moving his lips to bite your earlobe. You let out an exhausted moan, dipping your head back to hit the wooden door behind you. He lifted his leg higher at this, almost lifting you off your feet by your core. 

“Joe” You sobbed, your fingers pulling at his hair. You felt him smile against your neck.

He moved his head back up to kiss you again, this time his hands on both sides of your face. This kiss was slower, but just as passionate. He pulled you to the bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights on his way there, opting to find his way in the dark. You already noticed that he had a habit of pulling you by the fabric of your shirt. Something you could definitely get used to.

Once you did make it to the bedroom, he wasted no time pushing you backwards onto the bed. Your back bounced against the mattress and you sat up on your elbows as he crawled on top of you, meeting your lips again. He grabbed both of your hands and held them for a second, then slowly moved them so they were pinned above your head. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was enough to keep you in place. 

He pulled away to hover inches above your face, both of you panting. “I’m gonna ask you this, and I’m only going to ask you this once.” He said darkly, his voice overcome by lust. 

You nodded eagerly, yet still staying silent.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked deeply.

You nearly moaned at the tone of his voice. 

“Need to hear you say it, baby.” He growled.

“Yes” You cried, begging him to do something.

That must have been a tipping point for him, because he let go of your wrists and tugged at the hem of your skirt, pulling it along with your underwear down and off of your legs. He tossed them to the ground and grabbed you by both of your thighs, lowering himself so his head was in between them. 

He groaned as he looked at you, his grip slightly lightening as he admired how wet you already were. He placed a kiss to your lower thigh, looking back up at you. You were splayed out on his bed, your hair hanging in your face, your chest heaving. A sight he could get used to.

From there, he wasted no time diving in between your legs, licking your clit as he wrapped his arms tightly around your thighs, moving your legs so they were over his shoulders.

Your head was spinning as you slammed it back against a pillow on the unmade bed. You were hardly processing what was going on, your vision was blurry and your thoughts all bled together, the only thing you could feel was Joe.

You writhed underneath his touch, bucking your hips. His large hands laid over your stomach, holding you down. “Sit still.” He mumbled against you, the rumble of his voice pulsing through your entire body. You tried to still your hips, unable to stop them from twitching from pleasure. 

His fingertips dug into your thighs as he began holding you tighter and tighter. He only ever touched your clit, only using his tongue, but it was more than enough for you. One of your hands was tangled in his hair, and the other was holding onto the pillow under your head. In the distance, but still at an embarrassingly fast rate, you could feel your orgasm coming on. 

He must have sensed that you were close, or took a hint from the way you swirled your hips and pulled at his hair, because he smirked against you, then immediately pulled his head away.

“Joe” You whined, your grip on his hair loosening quickly.

He shook his head lightly, climbing back on top of you. He put his hands on either side of your head, and admired you under him for a second, even though you looked slightly disappointed. He leaned down to kiss you slowly, taking the feeling in.

As much as he would love to bask in that feeling and kiss you for the rest of eternity, he didn’t know how much longer he could take not fucking you. He pulled your shirt over your head without warning, leaving you in nothing but your bra.

Deciding that the ratio of clothes-taken-off was uneven, you reached for his belt buckle, grabbing him by the back of the neck with your other hand to pull him back down to kiss you. You fumbled with his belt buckle, trying to figure it out how to get it undone with your eyes closed.

Joe sighed into your mouth, pushing your hands away from his belt to do it himself. You giggled slightly, causing him to try and suppress a grin as you kissed. He took his belt off and you heard it hit the hardwood floor, followed by the sound of his pants unzipping. The thought of what you were about to get nearly made your eyes roll back in your head, the wetness spread across your inner thighs only growing.

You pulled the hem of his shirt up, breaking away from the kiss for only a second to allow him to pull it over his head, disregarding it with the rest of your clothes on the floor. Your fingers danced along the waist of his pants for a moment, then you slipped your hand inside. Joe was an extremely smooth kisser, but his rhythm was interrupted when you cupped him over his underwear, making him stifle his movements. You smirked and held him slightly tighter, making his arms nearly buckle as he groaned into you. 

He let your little power trip last for a few more seconds before he grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand away from him. He grabbed your other wrist with the same hand and then held your hands over your head. He let go, but you held your hands where they were as he pulled his pants and boxers off.

Normally, in a situation like this, one you had been in times and times before, you would feel vulnerable. Laying naked on someone else’s bed while they undress, completely and utterly at their demand. But, for some reason, you felt safe and taken care of. You felt so secure in his touches as he set his hand on your thigh, moving himself to settle in between your legs. 

He looked at you, your hands above your head as you looked back at him expectantly. He couldn’t help but pump himself a few times before finally lining himself up to your entrance. He reached up and set a hand by your head, the other holding his shaft. He stalled for a moment, taking time to look down at your pussy, sliding his tip up and down your slit. 

You lifted your hips expecting him to push himself inside of you. “Please.” You whispered. 

He looked back up at you, then leaned over you further, so his face was inches from yours. “Please what, baby?”

You reached up to set a hand on his broad shoulder which was flexed from holding himself up. “Please fuck me.” You begged. 

He chuckled lightly. “Aw, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.” He smiled. He pushed himself into you, and months of tension suddenly came undone. 

He bottomed out, and your grip on his shoulder moved down to dig your nails into his shoulder blade. You shut your eyes and pushed your head further back into his pillow. “Oh my fucking god.” You staggered. 

Joe couldn’t find it in himself to move right away, basking in the feeling of filling you up. He had thought about this exact moment too many times to take it for granted. 

You took the liberty to move your own hips in a circle, causing him to grunt into your ear. He pulled out nearly all the way, then moved back in slowly. 

As much as he wanted to take his time with you, the girl he had been obsessed with for the last 3 months finally underneath him, he began to feel himself losing control. His pace quickened at an insane rate, making you want to cover your mouth to try and stifle the ungodly moans coming out of you. 

He lowered his head into your neck as he moved his hips against yours, making you lean your head back to expose your whole neck to him. 

You felt him bite you softly, making you yelp in surprise. Heart fluttering, your cheeks flushed as he kissed your neck harshly. He began to slam into you harder, moving your whole body with every thrust. Red marks began to form on his back where you had dug all of your nails into his lower back. 

His pace only got rougher and rougher as time went on, only making things more and more passionate. 

“Joe, oh my god, please don’t stop, please please please please.” You rambled out of bliss. The feeling of build-up from earlier made a return as he lifted himself up, his hands on either side of your head. 

He grabbed your thigh and held it up close to his hip, trying to find a better angle for you, he could tell you were close. He realized he had gotten that angle when you yelled out his name, arching your back into him, your voice broken and raspy. 

“You close baby?” He asked his tone unrecognizable from the one you normally knew. 

“Yes” You cried, grabbing into his hair unintentionally. 

He lifted your leg over his shoulder with a grunt, hitting an unimaginable spot. He grabbed your throat to force you to look at him and leaned over you, his nose nearly touching yours. “Come on, give it to me, Y/N.” He growled. 

Your vision went white as your orgasm hit you. Your jaw dropped open as he watched you come undone around him. Your whole body pulsed as you gasped for air. He let you come down from your high, riding it out roughly until your eyes fluttered open again. 

All at once, he pulled out of you and grabbed your ankle, yanking your leg off of his shoulder. He grabbed your hips and flipped you over onto your knees, then grabbed you by a fistful of your hair and pushed your head down into the mattress. He began slamming into you again, the aftershock of your orgasm not even close to being over yet. You couldn’t do anything but let the tears welling in your eyes spillover as you cried his name over and over. 

He pounded into you, his teeth gritted as he pushed your head further down into the bed. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, especially not with you like this. He yanked your hair up and pulled you close to him so he could talk into your ear. 

“Do you know,” He spat with gritted teeth “how long I’ve waited to fuck you like this?” He wrapped an arm around your body to rub circles on your clit, his other hand moving you grab you by the throat again. “Having to see you, every. Fucking. Day. And not being able to have you? I thought I was crazy, Y/N, crazy for wanting to do the things I wanted to do to you. Things like this. But now I can see,” He began losing control of his body, his rhythm slowing as he could feel himself about to come “the feeling was mutual.” 

He came inside of you as your second orgasm hit you out of nowhere, causing you to topple over as his movements slowed, your cum mixing with his. You moaned breathing in and out as he slowly came to a stop. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.” He sighed. 

“Fuck.” He breathed. You sniffed and let out one last sob before he pulled out, causing you to wince. The rest of your body collapsed onto the bed as you panted, trying to catch your breath. He fell onto the bed next to you, the only movement you were able to manage was moving your hands up to wipe the tears off of your face. 

Joe reached over and held you by the hip, pulling you to face him. He wrapped an arm around you to splay a hand in between your shoulder blades and moved the other to cup your cheek. His eyes moved from your eyes to your cheek. He stroked his thumb across your face to wipe the tears from your cheeks, your eyes fluttered shut under his touch. “Are you okay?” He spoke softly. 

“Mhm.” You hummed lightly. You pressed a hand against his chest and moved to set your forehead on his shoulder. He rolled onto his back and you laid your head against his chest as he wrapped his arms completely around you. 

Neither of you said anything, the room silent as your breathing slowly synced together. Joe couldn’t wipe his stupid, blissful smile off of his face as he rubbed your back lightly. 

You couldn’t think about anything other than his heartbeat under your ear. Not the contract you signed, not Lola or Beck, not how much money you had and not how Joe was your boss. You only thought about the heartbeat you heard and the boy who owned it. 

-

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[harrywritingsbyme]

Before You Go

Based off of this ask

Inspo

A/N: this has just about everything you could want in smut. If you’re into it...there’s spitting, slight breeding and daddy kink. Enjoy. 😋 

You knew exactly how to get what you wanted. You knew what’d make Harry go crazy. You knew that if you came downstairs looking the way you were looking, Harry would have no choice but to fuck you on the dining table.

When choosing your outfit for today, you made sure to keep Harry in mind. You were only running errands, but you knew that once you made it down the stairs, you weren’t going anywhere. When picking your outfit for the day, you were swiping through your closet looking for something to wear and you stumbled upon the dress. You knew he liked it, given the fact that when you bought it, he had nothing but positive things to say, and his hands were everywhere.

Before you head downstairs, you make sure to pull it up and down in all the right places. Once you hit the bottom of the steps, you knew what you had to do. You walk over to the kitchen to grab some coffee, making sure to walk right in Harry’s line of view.

As soon as you walked in, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. As soon as he saw you, he saw the dress, and could almost see what was under it. And in the least ‘douchebagey’ way, he was very much enjoying the view.

You heard him clear his throat behind you and you knew it was working. You finished making your coffee and you rounded the kitchen island. Even when you were trying to take control, Harry always had the control. All he had to do way extend his arm out, not even looking away from his book, and he had you coming to him. You placed your coffee mug onto the counter and made your way over to him. Once close enough, his arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer to him. You grip onto his shoulder at the sudden jerk. He doesn’t say anything to you right away he just continues reading. You both continue like this, with him reading, and you not so patiently waiting for him to finish. When he finishes the chapter he closes the book and he pulls his glasses from his face. You mentally pout when he does that because you loved his glasses and you thought he should wear them more often. It made him look more, whats the word…daddy.

He turns his legs out from under the table, he moves you between his spread legs, and you stand in front of him, playing with the curls on the back of his neck. He leans up and you meet his lips for a kiss. You feel his hands squeeze your waist and you whimper into his mouth.

“What’re you doing today baby” he says looking up at your obviously flustered figure. His hands start making the rest of their way down your body, stopping mid thigh.

“Nothing much, just running some errands” you say through your shaky breaths. You feel his hand travel up the back of your dress and he gives your ass a nice squeeze.

“You’re awfully dressed up to just run errands” he says to you calmly. His eyes drifting down to the neckline of your dress where he got the perfect view of the top of your breasts overflowing from your dress. His eyes make their way back up to yours and he tilts his head back slightly, signaling you to bring your lips back. You bring your head back down and his lips are immediately smeared against yours. The hand that was left on your waist and was placed on your inner thigh. You felt him squeeze your inner thigh and you whimpered into his mouth again. His hands glided against you, gripping the entire expanse of your inner thigh, and you felt his brush against your clothed cunt. You felt him where you needed him and you let out a moan. Harry took this opportunity and slipped his tongue past your parted lips. You felt him lick into your mouth and your need for him only grew.

He swiftly pulls you into his lap ands you right on his clothed bulge. At this moment, you were glad that harry opted out of any underwear. You began to rock your hips against him causing him to let out a deep guttural groan. His hands left your thighs, taking claim of your ass instead. He tightly gripped you, stopping your motions. He began pressing you down harder onto him, moving you against him, pressing his cock further into you. You whimper and you pull away from his mouth reluctantly.

“I have to go daddy” you mewl against his lips, with him still moving your body against his cock. He doesn’t respond to you and he continues his actions. He then attaches his lips to the side of your neck. If it was one thing harry was, it was being possessive. He loved marking you, with his mouth, his rings, or his cum. And right now, he wanted to mark you with all three. He begins to suck harder on your skin causing you to whine from the slight pain. He ignores you and continues until he pulls away. He stops moving your hips and he wraps a hand around the side of your neck. He turns your neck into the light to inspect his work. He then rubs his thumb against the darkening mark and you jump at the sting of it. You hear him release a deep chuckle and he goes back in. He licks the spot then blows a little cool air onto it to soothe you. This causes your core to throb 10 times as much. You needed harry so bad.

He plants a kiss at the base of your neck and he wraps you in his arms. He pushes his chair back and hoists you onto the table away from his book and coffee. He pulls you to the edge and stands between your legs. He looks you in your eyes and places his hand on the side of your neck. His thumb pushes against the underside of your chin, tilting your head back.

“Open” you do as you’re told, with your tongue peeking over your bottom lip. You knew what he was going to do next and you wanted it so bad. He leaned down, pursed his lips, and spit right in your mouth. You quickly close your mouth and swallow. You open your mouth for more and he chuckles at your eagerness.

“Such a greedy little thing”he says leaning down to give you more” you swallow moaning at what just happened. His hand leaves your neck once more and goes to your chest. You bite your lip and you watch harry play with your breasts. You moan not only at the feeling of his hands on your body, but at the way his hands engulf anything he touched, especially anything on you.

“I hope you know that you’re not going anywhere until im done fucking you into this table” he says in a nonchalant tone, pushing you back onto the table. He massages your thighs once more before flipping the bottom of your dress up. He knew that you liked when he want into “daddy mode” as you liked to call it. He knew how wet you got when he took control and did what he wanted to you. He spreads your legs further apart, giving him better access to what he would consider your sweet little flower. On any occasion he’d be more than willing to savor in your sweet nectar as he would like to call it.

“Wasn’t planning on it” you say smartly sending him a mischievous smile.

“Good” he slaps your exposed skin and he goes to your panties. He wraps his slim fingers around the waistband and tantalizingly pulls them down your legs, watching your juices spill out of you. From where he was standing, he could smell the musky yet sweet smell of your arousal. He noticed the strings of your arousal connecting from your cunt to your panties and now he needed to feel how wet you were. Once completely off he shoved your panties into the pocket of his joggers saying that he was ‘saving them for later’, in other words, as soon as you walk out of the front door.

His thumb is immediately attached to your warm puffy clit. You moan out into the quiet room around you. It was so quiet in the house that your moan resonated throughout the house.

“Y’so wet f’me baby. Can’t wait until you get my cock all wet” he growls watching your juices drip onto the table

“Please daddy, I need your cock.” You pleaded with him, knowing he loved it when you got desperate and begged him for his cock.

Hearing the need in your voice, he shoves his pants down, stepping out of them, and pulling you to the edge of the table. Without any warning, he pushes his cock into you. You whine at how much he was stretching you out. He didn’t give you anytime to adjust, he immediately started to thrust into you. His hands take claim on your body to keep you still, one on your hip, and the other on one of your unrestricted breasts. He watches how your mouth opens to let out a moan, but nothing comes out. It only fuels his fire when he sees your eyes rolling into the back of your head in pleasure. He begins to piston his hips into yours, the slapping sound of each others skin resonating through the room.

“Doin’ so good for daddy. So tight and wet f’me baby.” he groans, his thrusts only getting harder and faster. All you could do was whimper in response. The feeling of him inside of you so good that you couldn’t form a coherent response. He angled his hips slightly upward, allowing him to continuously hit that soft spongy spot inside of you he was searching forward and you. As soon as you felt him there, you were done for. You were on the edge, about to fall over the edge into an amazing climax. Harry saw how you were responding to him and he began to lean further into you. He skillfully uses the hand that was not on your waist and the pulls your breasts from your dress. He immediately attaches his mouth to you, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipple. He then removes his mouth and and attaches it to your other breast. The feeling of his cock inside of you, hitting your spot over and over again, mixed with the feeling of his wet and warm mouth on you, sent sent you into a frenzy. All of those factors sent you into a blissful orgasm.

He felt you clench around him and he felt his release nearing. He pulls away from your exposed chest and he pounds into you harder if that was even possible, chasing his release. He then presses down into your lower stomach. He feels his cock moving inside of you against his palm. He then looks down and he watches where your bodies met. He then became entranced with the way his cock disappeared into you and he let out the most carnal, animalistic groan you’d ever heard. With that alone, you could’ve cum again.

“Cum daddy” you said through your labored breaths. This was all it took for harry to fall over the edge and cum inside of you. You let out a tired moan when you felt Harrys warm ropes of cum paint your walls. You absolutely loved it when Harry came inside of you. And he loved it just as much as you if not more. Even though he never said it, you knew that he was turned on at the fact that one day, he was going to paint your walls with his cum and well, you know the rest.

He stills inside of you and his head falls onto your chest. You feel his hot breaths fanning across your chest and your hands get tangled in his hair, knowing how much he liked that after sex. As much control as harry thought and knew he had, you knew the power you had too. He lifts his head from off of you and plants a kiss onto the corner of your mouth. He pushes his cock into you once more, pushing his cum deeper into you, making sure as little as possible came out. He grips the base of his cock and he begins to slowly pull out of you. You wince, not in pain but in shock when you felt Harry’s cum begin to pretty much pour out of you. He quickly stops it with his finger, pushing one in to push his cum back inside of you. You moan out, loving the fact that he always made sure to push his cum back into you. He leans down and pulls up his pants with his other hand, delicately tucking himself in, given the fact that he’s still pretty sensitive from your previous activities. He reaches into his pocket and he feels your still substantially wet panties. He chuckles to himself before pulling them out and dangling them on his finger with a smirk on his face. He pulls his finger out of you and it’s drenched him yours and his cum, your lips instinctively part, and he places his finger in your mouth. You make sure to get every drop before he pulls out. “Good girl” he chuckles, softly tapping your cheek

“Now that I think about it, you’re probably gonna need these.” he says, starting to put them onto you. “Gotta keep m’cum inside of yeh, won’t be able to hold it all in by y’self.”

“ Typical harry” you laugh at his antics. “The only place im going now, is upstairs. You tired me out.“ you say lifting your hips slightly when he taps you to pull your panties the rest of the way up.

“Well at least I know I did my job” he chuckles pulling you up and into his chest.

“That you definitely did.” You mumble. All he could do was laugh at your words, mentally patting himself on the back.

“Im serious, I can’t even feel my legs.”

“I love you” he says trying to deflect from what you said.

“If you love me like you say, you’ll carry me back upstairs” you say matter of factly into his chest.

“Anything you want princess” he laughs picking you up and making his way upstairs where you were going to get some much needed sleep.

Masterlist 

[faithbetryin]

Five Hargreeves X Reader | 2

(from my Wattpad: @FaithBeLovly)

Part 2

Pairing: Five Hargreeves X Reader

Word Count: 2,781

You find yourself sitting in front of the tv, watching the news broadcast of what happened at the cafe yesterday. You try to see if any information was said about the boy who saved you- shoved you, mostly. And he spilled scorching hot coffee all over you, but... all in all, he took a bullet while you were just peachy. You bite your nails a bit in nervousness. Hope was still in your mind that he didn't bleed out or get shot again and die or something. You don't get any information from the news channel and turn it off, tossing the remote on the couch as you walk out the door dawning a yellow rain coat and a pair of doc martens.

You walk along the damp sidewalk, stepping in every puddle you pass by. You grind your teeth with stress as you see the cafe not too far down the street. As you come closer, you notice detectives and caution tape surrounding the scene. You figure that whoever was in that van got away. You walk up to the tape and then start to backtrack away from it as you think about your chances of being questioned by gritty detectives if you stuck around in the open. You go towards the back door where you escaped from and try to open it. It was locked. You step back and remember the boy's school jacket. You remember it having some sort of umbrella on the patch on his shirt. It didn't give you any ideas about who the boy was or how to check on him. You walk away from the scene, pulling your hood over your head as it starts to rain again.

You start to wonder if this was just a small miracle, being saved by someone you'd never get to say thank you to. These kinds of things happened all the time right? It was just a world with everyone living their own lives, doing things without reward or consequence. You found the whole situation brave. No boy her age would have that kind of reaction if they were getting shot at. Maybe you were just lucky. Wouldn't it be some shit if you ended up getting shot the next day anyway? The world's cruel like that. An umbrella picture against stained glass windowed doors catches your attention. You walk backwards until you're in front of a big brick building. It seemed eerie and quiet. You see a bronze plaque on the outside of the building. You walk up the short steps to the door and read it, the distressed words engraved on it reading: The Umbrella Academy. You scrunch your nose, not hearing of such a thing. You wonder what kind of thing they teach here. Maybe making umbrellas, I don't fucking know. You look up at the doors in front of you and decide to knock on it with the brass knock-handles built onto it. You wait there for a few long moments, wondering if this place was abandoned or something. It seemed quiet, and dark. To your surprise the door opens slightly. A small eyeball peeks through the crack, a warm elderly man's voice welcoming you. "Can I help you?" The voice says.

You sit there, feeling dumb for not being prepared with something to say. You ask stupidly, "Uh, yes. I-Is this a school? The Umbrella Academy?"  

The voice sighs a little before replying, "I'm afraid it isn't anymore.."

"Oh.. Well do you know anyone who'd wear a uniform from this place or something? Maybe an old student?" The eyes peering out at you get a little bigger. You explain yourself further, "It's just that- I saw someone near here wearing this umbrella symbol on their jacket a-and they got shot trying to save me and I wanted to make sure he was okay." The eyes from within the shadows look down and then back up at you as the voice says through a sigh,

"Five..." The door opens more to reveal a shorter figure- well, a... a fucking monkey. You blink in confusion, but smile a bit to be respectful. He wore a nice formal suit and small little glasses upon his chimpanzee face. He held the door with one chimp hand, the other holding himself up with a wooden cane. He was quite cute actually. Weird, but cute. "I'm so sorry that happened. I'm sure you must be a friend of Five's." You shake your head a little with confusion.

"I'm sorry? Five, you said? Five what?" You were very lost. As per usual. The polite ape in front of you lifts his cane to direct you inside. You reluctantly enter, not even sure what this place is. She wonders if she'll leave looking like a monkey too.

"The young boy in culottes? Tall socks? Well dressed?" He says, starting to wonder if Five might've saved a stranger, which was unusual for him. You nod to him as you walk in, looking around. It was much bigger inside than it appeared from the outside. It had old floors, walls, and set of two staircases leading upstairs somewhere in front of you. The rugs decorating the creaky floor looked antique. You stand in the lobby area, unsure what to do.

"Yeah, that one."

"The name's Five." A voice echoes through the room as the same boy from yesterday was standing across the room with a coffee mug in hand. You were caught off guard. You felt like you were intruding. Your face gets hot with embarrassment. You pick at a loose thread on your jeans as you look at the boy's leg. He had a proper bandage around his leg, the wound appearing fine considering the way he's even standing now. The suited ape closes the door behind you and smiles at the two of you as he waddles away with his cane, leaving us to it. The boy-Five, takes a sip of whatever's in the yellow mug. "You were at the cafe, weren't you? Yeah, the one with a staring problem." You drop your head to look at your shoes as you are ripping at the seams with embarrassment. You take a deep breath of recovery and look back at him, your hands in your pockets to hide the way they were fidgeting. The boy smiles a bit and nods towards the room behind him, motioning that you should follow him. You reluctantly walk over to him and follow him into a large living room/bar area. The wall was decorated with expensive-looking paintings and head mounts of animals. Tall bookcases lined the room. You clear your throat and say nervously as you look around, "Private school much?" Five chuckles into his mug as he takes another sip.

"This isn't a school," he says, clearly enjoying talking to such a lesser knowledgeable individual by the way he smiled widely, his dimples appearing. You make a face. "It's my home." You take a silent breath as you look around with wide eyes. You then shake your head in even more embarrassment as you realize you're intruding his house.

"Sorry- I just thought that-"

"The Umbrella Academy,"  he says with a smile, lifting his mug as if the name was glorious. You realize it's sarcastic praise as he laughs at it afterwards. "Yeah no, this place was home to a brooding rich man who decided to raise 7 children he didn't have time or sympathy for. Although, we did study and go through lectures everyday growing up here." You try to process that whole story as you look at him.

"S-So you have seven siblings?" You start to wonder what they're like and try to imagine what they look like while examining Five.

"Adopted. And always scattered. Hardly in one place." Well there goes trying to imagine his siblings' appearances in comparison to him.

"Oh," You say, feeling overwhelmed with all this information. You shake your head and turn back to him, remembering what you came here to say to him. "I just came to say thanks..." Five lowers his mug down from his thin raspberry-tinted lips without taking a sip. You wait for his delayed response. He eyes you up and down with that serious furrowed eyebrow expression. He has his head tilted to the side a bit, his Adam's apple exposed along his long neck. His hair fell a bit from its swoosh as he tilted his head.

"Didn't need someone getting shot for my messes." he says, his voice serious yet... gentle and sincere. A silence drifts between the two of you as you hold your arm along your side, looking at his leg. He lowers his head a bit to match the way you kept yours low. He catches your eyes and says, "It's fine. I got it patched up." You nod, taking his reassurance as you start to look a little guilty. He sets his coffee mug down on the bar counter and starts walking past you, turning to look at you. "Come on, I have something you might want."

You look at him with uncertainty before nodding and following behind him. You gain some reassurance as he turned to wait for you to catch up to him at the bottom of the steps. He didn't want to leave you alone behind him. You walk up the staircase side by side, holding onto the railing to give your hand something to focus on.

"Why are you nervous?" He asks very calmly. His voice was consistently cool and collected just like his demeanor. Your eyes dart around the stairs underneath you as you try to think of what to say to that. How did he know I'm nervous?  You clear your throat as quietly as you can as you reply shakily,

"A-Anxiety. Kind of my thing I guess..." Five looks at your avoiding face, his brows lowered in a concerned, but understanding way. He keeps walking up the steps.

"Sorry." He says softly. The way his voice left his lips felt like a gentle warm breeze along your ears made you feel warm inside. You shake your head and laugh to diffuse the tension.

"Nothing to be sorry about. It's just something that's wrong with me." As you both reach the top of the steps, he looks at you with his hands in his pockets.

"Not a flaw. A quality." He says, reassuring you once again. You stand there for a moment too long as he walks where he's leading you, leaving you there in your thoughts. You never had anyone say something so honest and constructive like that. You didn't have anyone, really. You realize he's started to walk off and follow behind him quickly. You walk down the hallway past many rooms with closed doors. There were interesting laminated posters with self defense moves printed on them taped along the walls, low to the ground as if they were intended for kids to see. You stand behind Five as he opens his room door. You stand at the doorway respectfully as he walks in and fetches something from his closet. Lots of books and papers decorated the room along with a ridiculous amount of mathematical writing across every inch of the walls. You didn't recognize a single equation.

He comes back to the doorway, holding out a scarf. My scarf.  It was clean, the blood stripped from its fabric. You take it from his hands slowly, your hands barely touching as neither of you let go of the scarf. You look up to find Five's eyes of oceans focused on your face, almost as if they've been gazing at you this whole time. His brows weren't tense anymore while his eyes were gentle. You blush hard, lifting the scarf to your face to hide it. He lets go as you lift it and scratches the back of his head as he looks at the scarf instead of you.

"I thought you might want that back," he says, adjusting his tie. You giggle a little from behind the scarf and move it away as you say,

"It's not even mine." The both of you laugh a little as his eyes widen a bit, a smile on his face. You stole that scarf from a Walmart a few weeks ago. You look down again but then back up at him, feeling more comfortable looking directly at someone- at him. "Thank you anyway."  He nods and leans against the door frame, his hands in his pockets again. Must be a habit.

"So your name is...?"

"Y/N," you say quickly, just realizing you never introduced yourself back to him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you on the edge of your seat to find out," you say, somewhat playfully flirting with him. His dimples jump out at you as he gives you a toothy grin. He scoffs with a slight chuckle.

"You do know you don't have to keep apologizing for everything." He says, his brows raised as he knows he got you there, proving it to him as you blush.

"Sorry-Agh fuck,"

"You did it again."

"I know, I know-" The both of you laugh, his actual laugh very pleasing to listen to. You shake your head and your smile starts to fade. He takes notice as he's now doing that thing where he lowers his head to your eye level and then lifts back up to encourage you to tell him what's wrong. "What was that...?" You ask, "At the cafe?" His smile quickly fades, his expression now that solemn, brooding look.

"Well, I've got a bit of trouble following me around lately." He scratches the back of his head. "Bunch of commission goons here to kill me." Your face immediately turns into concern and confusion.

"Kill you?! So they're gonna be back?"

"Yep," he sighs, lifting up on his toes and then falling back onto his heels. "And they're probably going to be coming after you now." You give him an even more concerned look.

"Me??  Wh- I don't even know what you're talking about! We gotta call the cops or something-"

"Cops are useless and very insignificant to this particular problem." He says. You shake your head and put your face into the scarf, your anxiety kicking up a notch. It feels like a slimy snake trickling up your throat, building pressure in your body. You try to keep it down and breathe heavily into the scarf. He shifts a little as he realizes what's going on with you, moving closer to you. He pulls your hands and scarf down from your face, looking at you. You feel exposed and vulnerable. He holds your arms and shakes them a bit to get you to pay attention.

"Listen to me," You continue to breathe more frequently, your hands shaking a bit. "No one's gonna kill you. You can stay here, I can protect you-"

"Protect me? I can't-"

"Listen, listen- I can. I can protect you. You just gotta calm down for me, alright?" He looks into your eyes, his grip on your arms becoming a little tighter to let you know he's got you. Your eyes dart back and forth across his face before closing, your head nodding quickly as you struggle to breathe regularly. He then puts his hands behind your ears, holding you gently as he tries to get you to focus.

"Breathe, take a deep breath. Come on, breathe." You nod to him to let him know you're trying as you close your eyes and take deep breaths, the break in between breaths letting your nerves calm down, your breathing becoming normal again. "There," he says, his thumb stroking the side of your face. You open your eyes, looking into his eyes. He was so close to you now, your faces inches away from each other. You feel your body relax, your head resting against his hands. You feel the tension between you both, the moment making your heart beat louder in your chest.

"Five has a girlfriend! And she's real! In the flesh!" a voice shrieks from behind them. Five immediately lets go of you and furrows his brows, his face showing complete agitated rage and annoyance. A lanky man in tight, suggestive hippy clothing watches you from the end of the hall.

"KLAUS, you are INCREDIBLY  infuriating!" Five shouts as he warps through a bright blue light, disappearing from in front of you and appearing down the hallway after his brother, Klaus screaming and laughing as he makes a break for it. "I swear, I will kill  you, you idiot!" You smile a little, feeling closer to the boy in culottes.

[jkcreation]

Chapter 1- Let Me Tell You a Story…

Let me tell you about a time when I met a Magic Knight Captain, who, at first glance, was overwhelmingly daunting. For awhile I was working in a popular pub in the capital. From time to time I would see various Magic Knights come into the pub to relax for the evening. Heck, we would even see groups of Magic Knights get together for the sole purpose of trying to get girls at mixers. Usually, it resulted in utter failure, ending in everyone either leaving alone, or a huge bar fight. Magic Knight Captains however, were always a rare sight. After all, out of all the kingdom's residents there are only nine captains. From what I’ve seen and from stories I’ve heard, there seemed to be a common trend that someone associated with the Magic Knights seemed to be an acquired taste.

When I first saw Jack the Ripper, the Magic Knight Captain of the Green Mantises, I won’t lie - he seemed dangerous. The kind of dangerous that if I would make the slightest mistake he would have killed me on the spot. Plus, there were rumours about him that didn't help this visage.

When he entered the pub with long defined strides, he was tall and lean but clearly built. He had shoulder length black hair which was wild and untamed. His shirt barely covered his torso leaving little to the imagination of his abs, which were also very clearly defined. His golden eyes were sharp and focused, while he wore a sinister smile. He wore a green folded half cape adorned with the logo of the Green Mantises with his grimoire holstered behind him.

Taking a deep breath, I shook off the thought of danger, after all he was not in my section so he wasn’t my concern. I looked around to find the waitress that was serving his section, and I found she was tending to some young men at another table who were fawning over her. I recall thinking to myself that she would get to him soon enough, and that he wasn’t my problem. I continued my evening as normal, with frequent glances over in his direction. Every now again I would catch him, staring back at me with a grin plastered on his face, though his eyes were shooting daggers. This caused the hairs at the back of my neck to stand on end. It was intense, having his powerful gaze directed at me. I couldn’t help it. His leering gaze was enough to jumpstart my imagination.

My mind wanders to a place where Jack has me pinned, both hands above my head in only one of his. This seems almost too easy for him, as if he does these sorts of things on the regular. Staring intently at me while I trembled with anticipation of his touch below him. His one hand glided over my exposed skin slowly tracing down between my legs, encircling my clit, teasing me. His face drawing near mine as if he would be breathing in my essence. I begged him for more… Suddenly snapping back to reality, I caught myself staring at him, with heat pooling deep in my center.

‘Oh no, I thought to myself, he hasn’t even been served yet!’ I realized, and was overcome by a sense of panic. There seemed to be a complete lack of service to his table, as there we no drinks or even silverware to be found. I looked around for his server and found her to still be invested at her previous table, I’m guessing she enjoys the attention. I quickly ran over to his table mentally preparing myself for the worst. ‘No wonder he was shooting daggers at me’ I thought as I steadied my breath.

Mustering up my courage, I head over to his table. “Hello sir! Has anyone come to take your order yet?” Surprisingly, I was able to give him a genuine smile with ease. He leaned over the table with a leering gaze.

“Heh, it’s about time! I wanted an ale 20 minutes ago!” He muttered, without enthusiasm. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he inspected me up and down. His long fingers tapped on the tabletop impatiently, and I quickly bowed to him in an apologetic fashion. Peeking up, I thought I could see his eyes trailing to my exposed cleavage.

I hope he likes the view, I wonder how well my breasts would fit in his hands…

“Absolutely, I do apologize about the long wait! I’ll have that drink for you right away.” A smirk crossed his lips, it was kinda cute, if he didn’t look like he wanted to cut me. I quickly ran off to grab his first drink without delay. I wasn’t looking, but I could feel his eyes on my back, and my behind, as I quickly headed to the bar.

Upon returning he seemed somewhat impressed. I quickly handed his drink to him and plucked the mug from my grasp, his fingers feathering mine. His hands were large, strong, and rugged. He drank the ale in one swig, and his long tongue slowly licked up the dribble of alcohol on his chin.

Oh that tongue! I could clearly see myself falling prey to his strong grasp, forcing me to sit on his face as he licks up my nectar, lunging that tongue deep inside. Over, and over, and over until I can’t take it anymore... My breath hitches in my throat as reality hits me.

“Get me another!” he said as he thrusted the mug towards me. His gaze softened ever so slightly as surprise crossed my face.

“Sure thing, I take it you had a rough day today?” I quietly said to him as I grasped the still cool mug from his clutch.

“I didn’t have a bad day, heh heh… I was just really thirsty. In fact, I had a great day, I got to slice up some of my squad who couldn’t make the cut.” He said in a harsh but oddly jovial tone. I couldn’t help but to giggle at the pun. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. A blush bloomed across my cheeks, feeling the heat rising inside I quickly turned around to grab him another drink from the bar, trying to calm myself down.

“Heyyyyy purdy lady...” a drunken man slurred. “How bout you spend some time with me and my boyz, come here sit on my lap.” His strong hand gripped tightly on my wrist, causing me to drop the empty mug in shock.

This was the table that the other waitress had been tending. I use the word ‘tending’ lightly, as she was currently perched on a gentleman’s lap serving drinks.

“Come on, it’ll be more fun if you join us!” The waitress purred.

“Oh no! Please let me go sir, you’re hurting me!” He tightened his grasp and pulled me to sit down on him. I could feel his member press up against me. “Let go of me!”

The other waitress piped up “Oh don’t be like that! You know if you treat these guys right they will give you some good tips!” She giggled as she wiggled further down into her guests lap.

“Yeah, we’ll give you good tips if you help entertain us, your friend can only do so much. I want to feel you squirm on my lap, too.” The brute said in a lecherous tone, as he grabbed tighter and pulled me closer into him. It was so disgusting, I remember closing my eyes so tight trying to pretend this wasn’t actually happening.

“Hey loser! Do you want to see me slice off your hands without cutting the woman? I can promise you it’s really impressive!” Green blades of mana spawn from the Knight Captain's arms and he runs his long tongue across the blade. I looked up at him, right now in this moment I was so thankful he came to my rescue. Or at least part of me was hoping he was coming to my rescue.

“Piss off bean pole, pretty lady’s going to be entertaining me and my lads tonight.” He grabbed even tighter than before as I gasped in pain, it was sure to leave a bruise later.

“Hey man, ya know that’s the Magic Knight Captain, Jack the Ripper… I wouldn’t mess with him, he's crazy.” One of the assailant's comrades chimed in.

“Heh heh, you don’t even seem to be worth slicing up, but it could be a fun challenge to cut you to bits without getting a drop of blood on the girl. Who wants to see me do it? I do like a challenge” Jack gestured to the now silent pub.

Looking up at the Captain, my eyes pleaded for him to get rid of these drunken bastards. I didn’t really care how, I just wanted them gone. It was as if he could read my mind, as he quickly maneuvered towards the man and sliced with extreme precision, leaving only his undergarments. The drunkard pushed me off in a panic and Jack managed to catch me from falling flat on my bottom. The poor excuse of a man clumsily staggered and ran out the door with his friends in tow, leaving the waitress behind scared and confused.

“Th-thank you, s-sir.” My back pressed up so close to his body, I looked back up to him. Noticing that he’s so warm…

His strong arms holding me tight is making my heart beat faster. I could feel my hips grind up into him as he rips down my panties, sliding his cock in from behind me, penetrating my ass leaving me wanting, and soaking wet… CALM DOWN GET OUT OF THE GUTTER YOU’RE WORKING! I internally screamed at myself.

“Don’t mention it, heh heh, it’s too bad I missed his hands.” He seethed. “I would have loved to slice them off, it would have felt so good heh heh.” While it sounded like he was disappointed it didn’t feel like it. “Any blood on you?” He firmly grabbed my chin and inspected my face side to side. Upon not seeing any blood a smile returned to his face. “Your wrists have some bruising.”

“I’m fine….” I responded, I was honestly so disgusted and ashamed that I didn’t do anything to stop the drunk from pushing me against his member, I felt so violated. “It was nothing to worry about, but thank you.” I tried to pass off my most genuine smile I could muster.

“You know… they might come back for you later.” Jack said. The thought hadn’t occurred to me and I could feel the blood drain from my face when he said that.

“You will need to be careful when walking home tonight.” He said earnestly, still holding onto me. It took me a moment to register that I was still in his arms, I pulled myself away from his warm grasp, which left me disappointed.

“I’m off in an hour, if you're still around by then I might just get you a drink as a thank you.” A bright grin lit up his face.

I turned back to continue work, picking up the mug that I had dropped onto the floor. Wiping up the droplets of ale so no one would slip,I wondered if I could engineer a way to fall, preferably into his arms… Bringing the mug to the back, the other waitress that had gotten a little too comfortable at her only table pulled me aside with a sneer.

“You know I was working that table all night! Now because of your stupid stunt they stuffed me with the bill and I got nothing from it!” She berated. “You’re the one who’s going to pay for that table's drinks tonight because you couldn't play nice with those drunks.”

“You know if you did your damned job you would have more than enough tips to cover that. I’m not paying for those disgusting pigs because you want to play as a whore in a brothel.” I growled back, pushing against her clenched fist. “You need to get out of my face, I have people who are hungry and thirsty to take care of. Either you can help me and take care of your section or go home because you're wasting everyone’s time!” I pushed her back, though a little harder than intended, and she fell back into the wall and slid down. She began to cry and pretending to be hurt, ‘Great she’s making a scene’ I thought to myself.

“What is going on here?” I heard the manager's voice and the pit of my stomach sank to the bottom of my feet. This girl had a thing with the bar manager for a while now. I knew that I was done for the moment she ran crying into his arms spewing lies that I attacked her after scaring off a large group of customers and refusing to take responsibility and pay their bill. He turned to me with sheer abhorrence in his eyes.

“You’re fired. Get out of my pub.” He said curtly as she smiled under the crocodile tears streaming down her face.

“Who needs a good worker when you have a good lay right?” I stated plainly as I tossed the manager some coins. “This is for the table with the Green Mantis Captain, it should cover his drinks and one more if you think you’re competent enough to bring him one without falling on his cock too.” I chided.

Making sure to grab my bag before I left, I made a beeline for the door, trying to keep my head held high. I cannot allow myself to show any weakness. I was intentionally avoiding any possible glances with the Magic Knight Captain, as I had promised him to buy him a drink as thanks. But what I didn’t promise was to stay and enjoy the drink with him. Would he even enjoy having me in his presence?

“Leaving so soon? I thought you would buy me a drink heh heh. Don’t tell me you're trying to get out of your promise! If you did, I wouldn’t have to wonder what it would be like to slice up something so innocent. Heh heh heh.” A familiar voice said while looming over me with a large grin plastered across his face and his cheeks rosy from the alcohol.

“I’m sorry about that! My shift finished early tonight, but I did pay for your drinks and one more if you wanted. I just have to go now.” I said faking a smile, as I was trying to keep my injured pride concealed. I turned to walk away towards the door to leave. Opening the door the air outside was cool as it washed over me causing me to shiver. The uniform was short and didn’t provide much in the way of protection from the cold. I wonder what my ass looks like from behind, and if he is paying any attention to my departure.

[crowtrinkets]

New Words

Asra and the Apprentice (during their rehabilitation) take a day trip. The events leave the Apprentice feeling insecure of their speech problems. At this point, the Apprentice can speak only a few words and can walk but does so with a cane. This is the said fic prompt that was keeping me awake at night lol.

Quick warning: Minor assault scene but nothing major or graphic

Word Count:  4560

AsraXGen Neutral Apprentice/Reader 

My eyes flutter open as the sun shines through the window, shielding my eyes from the bright warm light, I sit up. I can hear Asra idly humming in the other room. He must’ve woken up early cause he knew how excited I am. Last night Asra asked me if I wanted to go to the beach. Although I could not physically voice my excitement I enthusiastically nodded telling him I would very much like to go. Ever since I awoke to Asra and Faust not too long ago, nearing a year, give or take, I have struggled to do basic tasks. Since then I have learned to walk, although I use a cane to keep me balanced. And I can speak a few words but I’m still struggling. Asra will read to me some days so I can expand my vocabulary until I can read and speak for myself. It's not easy but I’m eager to learn. I reach over and grab my cane to help me stand, Asra walks in and gives me a smile.

“Well good morning,”

“Hello,” I respond. I can pronounce good, but morning is what always gets me, so we opted that hello can be a place holder for many words. Good morning, hey look over here, welcome back and even goodbye sometimes. I remove the kettle from the stove and carefully pour the hot water into the cups preparing the morning tea Asra and I always have. Once I was strong enough to hold the kettle Asra was always conveniently away when I woke, so that I was the one to make the tea. We both grab our cups and Asra puts out his arm so I can steady myself as we walk to the table. Sitting down I take in the aroma of my drink.

“Tea,” I mumble to myself as I raise the cup to take a sip. Although my vocabulary is short I try to say the few words I can as often as possible as a way to practice.

“So are you sure you still want to go to the beach? The sand might be tricky for you to walk on,” Asra looks at me over the rim of his cup. Although he’s already dressed I can tell he would willingly change back into regular clothes and stay home.

“Asra,” I give him a glare. I spend the majority of my time upstairs alone and engaging in “physical therapy” as Asra calls it. It's boring and I hate it, I want to see more of the city but I can't leave without Asra. If I were to get lost I wouldn’t even be able to ask someone for directions.

“Okay, okay. Beach today it is,” He gives me a quick smile before looking into his cup smile disappearing into the empty mug. I scrunch my brows in worry but before I can call his name, getting his attention he starts. “I’m going to grab some things to bring with us, you go ahead and get dressed,” he then stands and leaves to find some beach-worthy supplies. After putting our cups in the sink, I grab my beach clothes and change behind the partition in the corner. Our home above the shop is small but Asra makes sure I have the privacy I need. Once I'm dressed I put on my cover-up and do up the buttons. I poke my head around the partition but my vision is blocked by.. straw? I hear Asra let out a giggle.

“I got you a hat, it’s a sunny day and we can't do with you getting a sunburn,” I fix the hat so it’s sitting properly on my head and give Asra a look. I’ve never burned while going out, although whether it is due to the fact that I simply don't burn or Asra mothering me I will never know. Asra picks up a bag and I can see a few items poking out. A blanket, a canteen, and what looks like to be some sandwiches. He probably prepared them while I was still asleep.

“Ready to go?” Asra gives me a smile. To which I respond with a nod.

—- As my apprentice and I steadily make our way down the stairs I can't help the impending nervousness that boils in me. Their hands are placed on both my shoulders as I walk in front of them. Their motor skills have improved immensely but walking is still sometimes a struggle for them. We sometimes go to the market but we can only ever be out for about an hour. This is why I make them stay home and do exercises to build their strength. But I could tell being home all day was getting to them. Large crowds make them nervous but one can only spend so long alone especially when they can barely speak or read for entertainment. My nerves begin to grow until I hear their quiet voice in my ear.

“Asra,” I look over my shoulder at them, flushing slightly when I realized we’ve reached the end of the stairs and have been standing there for an awkward amount of time.

“Ah sorry, I was a little lost in thought” I move out of the way so they can walk ahead of me out the door. I follow behind silently.

“Friend okay?” Faust pokes her head from my bag and looks up at me. I give her a short nod and turn around to lock the door of our shop.

“Ok, time to find a gondola,” I turn to walk toward the town square where most of the gondola drivers park but I feel a hand grip my arm stopping me in my tracks.

“Walk?” My apprentice gives me a confused look. I thought I told them last night but I guess it slipped my mind.

“Well, walking on sand is hard enough and I didn't want you to tire yourself out before we got there so taking a gondola most of the way makes sense,” they scrunch their eyebrows and I see their bottom lip poke out slightly. They’re pouting, I could so easily tease them but opt not to.

“Walk!” They wave their cane in the air slightly, signifying they can walk just fine with their cane. But that doesn’t convince me otherwise, I worry they’ll get too tired and we’ll have to take a gondola anyways. I rub my hand on the back on my neck and think for a second.

“How about we take a ride there, but on the way back we can walk, sound good?” They scrunch their nose as they think about my proposition, making a grunted thinking noise before they huff in finality. They give me a distinguished nod acting as though they were not just pouting a second ago.

“Ok, sounds good to me,” they give me a smile and we walk towards the town square. I find a gondola man and drop a few miscellaneous shiny items in their hand, then requesting they take us to the East Docs. The ride is peaceful and quiet, Faust makes her way around my shoulders so she can watch the sights go by just as my apprentice is. Their wide eyes scanning everything we pass by with awe. The East Docs and beach areas are used the most so the lingering ash from the Lazaret was cleaned up, unlike Ash Beach. The east beaches are small but people usually stay away because it's so close to the south end. Hopefully, my apprentice and I can enjoy a peaceful day alone.

Once we reach our destination and exit the gondola my apprentice's face lights up, I rarely see their genuine smile, and when I do it's always a treat. We approach the shore and I scan the area. There are only a few people here, perfect beach day scenario. I see my apprentice step onto the sand and wobble a little, leaning on their cane for stability and I reach out and grab their arm to help. They give me an embarrassed look, it takes every muscle in my body not to make an I told you so face. We back onto the cobblestone and I place my bag down, removing Faust from my shoulders and placing her onto my apprentice's shoulder. Both of them tilt their heads in confusion. I crouch down slightly my back facing my apprentice.

“Get on, I’ll carry you,” I hear a short squeak come from their mouth but before long I feel them climb onto my back. Arms around my neck and legs around my sides, I place my hands on their legs to hold them up. Once I know they're secure I stand up straight feeling them cling to me for dear life, retrieving my bag I waltz out onto the sand carrying my oh-so-precious cargo. —- The last thing I expected out of today was to be on Asra's back. I also did not expect the sand to be so slippery and full of rocks making it hard to balance let alone walk on. I was silently praying thanks that Asra offered to carry me, maybe for more reason than just the one. I'm used to being in such close quarters with him but being on his back I’m realizing how good he smells. He smells like the tea we had this morning and sage with a hint of cinnamon. It’s almost addicting. I poke my head out from his right and I look around. We’re actually at the beach! My heart flutters in excitement as we near closer to the shore.

“Getting excited are we?” I suck in my breath flushing, oh dear, Asra must be able to feel my heart thumping on his back. I nod slowly, the brim of my hat dancing on top of Asra's fluffy curls. He stops walking and looks around. “This spot seems good.” He crouches down again allowing me to climb off his back, his scent leaving with him. I angle my cane to help me standstill as I observe the shore. Asra reaches into his bag and pulls out the blanket, spreading it out onto the ground. Taking my hand he helps me sit and promptly plops himself down next to me. We both let out a sigh as we look out onto the horizon. Asra reaches into his bag and pulls out two sandwiches handing one to me. I put my cane behind us and open my sandwich taking a bite. We sit in silence eating and drinking in our view of the Vesuvian shores. After swallowing my last bite, I lay down on the blanket and stretch my arms above my head. My hand swipes over something other than sand though. I grab it to get a better look, it's a seashell. Or at least part of one, its broken in half but it’s still beautiful regardless. The brown stripes running across remind me of a ribbon I saw once in the market place.

“Found a seashell?” Asra leans over observing my find. I nod and hand it to him. “Yknow we can go look for some more, ahh I don't know if I can carry you and look for seashells at the same time though,” I flush at the thought, I can imagine how ridiculous it would look. “I am also not fond of leaving you alone to go look for some myself...” Asra trails off when an idea strikes me.

“Faust,” I say looking at her as she pokes her head from the sand. Asra looks to her and then me and nods.

“Alright,” he pulls Faust from the sand and holds her up to his face so she can look at him while he speaks. “Ok Faust, I'm giving you an important task, stay here with MC while I look for seashells, protect them from harm,” I chuckle at Asra's theatrics as he hands Faust to me. What could possibly be dangerous about a beach? Asra gets up and jogs down to the shore and I wave as he leaves.

Once Asra leaves I undo my cover-up to let the sun hit my skin, setting it to the side and watching Faust turn it into her bed. I begin to scan the beach, there aren't many people here. I see a small family, two parents, and two children. They run about the shore squealing with excitement. I find myself thinking about family and whether I have one when I feel a headache creep up on me. I shake my head trying to will the pain away. Asra taught me to meditate when I feel a headache coming but sometimes they get too intense and I need Asra's help, and he’s not here right now. I look around the beach again trying to distract my thoughts until my eyes fall upon an island in the distance. I’ve heard people talk about this island, the name escapes me but I know people are scared of it. I can't remember why though. I continue to stare at this island, feeling utterly enamored with it, almost like I can't take my eyes off of it. My headache starts to slowly crawl up the nape of my neck but I can't manage to look away.

“Hey! I'm talking to you!” The voice breaks me from my trance and I look up at the man standing above me. I don’t recognize him. He’s standing very close to me, and he doesn’t seem to be dressed for the beach so what is he doing here?

“H-hello,” I stutter out. He has a nasty look on his face. Something about this man makes me uncomfortable.

“So you can talk, What's a pretty thing like you doing alone here?” He bends down slightly leaning over me even more. My heart starts to pound as I realize, he wants to talk with me. But I can't, I start to frantically look around for Asra until I see him. He’s further down the beach leaning in the water digging in the sand.

“Asra,” I try to shout but my voice is hoarse and quiet.

“Asra?” The man follows my eyes and sees Asra in the distance. “Oh, what is he your boyfriend? Well, he's not a very good one for leaving you all alone,” the man crouches down to my level getting closer to me. “Why don't you ditch him and come with me?” I lean away from the man and slowly shake my head. “What you’re too good for me or something?” The man's voice starts to become more hostile as he leans closer to me. I continue to lean away trying to will my voice into appearing, if I could speak I would tell this man to leave, but I can't and he isn't leaving me alone. I need help. Suddenly he grips my shoulder.

“C’mon can't you speak or something? Don't you know you have to answer someone when they ask you a question?” His grip on my shoulder becomes tighter and it starts to hurt the panic in me starts to swell and I act suddenly.

“No!” I scream and shove him away from me sending him onto his back. The man quickly scrambles to his feet and looks down at me once again. His face is red and his breathing is harsh and heaving.

“Little shit!” In that moment he kicks sand into my face. I start spluttering wiping the sand from my eyes. I feel something cool and silky run over my leg and I hear a scream. I manage to open my eyes and see the man thrashing at Faust who is wrapped around the man's leg, squeezing. My heart starts to race, this man could hurt Faust, my friend, and more importantly Asra's friend. I grab my cane from behind me and sit upon my knees swinging my cane at the man nailing him in the side.

“NO!” I yell once again, I’ve never said that word but my fear trumped any other emotions at that moment. The man falls onto the ground.

—- The waves are cool as they wash over my legs. I’ve managed to find quite a few seashells I'm sure my apprentice will love. I pick up a purple one and place it in my pocket. I look around at the ground again and see possibly the biggest seashell I've seen so far. It's similar to the one they found, white with brown stripes. I'm sure they’d love a complete version. I lean down to grab it but the wave beats me to it bringing it away with the current. At that moment I think I hear something.

“NO!” I stop in my tracks. That wasn’t who I thought it was... was it? No, it wasn’t MC they haven’t been able to pronounce their own name let alone “no”. When they get annoyed they usually say my name in an annoyed tone. I look back at the sand trying to find the shell the wave washed away but then I hear Faust’s voice.

“Friend! Help!” I whip my head around and scan for our spot and I see it. My dear, shy, friendly apprentice, swinging their cane? Onto a man? Are they beating a man up? Panic swells in me and I race up the beach. I can hear them yelling and sobbing “no” as they whack the screaming man senseless, Faust unravels from the man's leg and approaches me, I grab her placing her on my shoulders, and approach the scene.

“Hey, hey!” I grab their cane mid-swing and they flinch facing me. The moment their eyes meet mine however they relax, their eyes red from crying and their breath heaving from swinging. I ignore the man groaning on the ground and keep my apprentice's attention. “What happened,” tears swell their eyes and their voice comes out croaking.

“Faust.... Asra” they point to the man's leg and then point out to where I was standing. Their breathing is heavy and their voice is hoarse. My heart aches to see them so distressed. They grab their shoulder mimic someone tightening their grip. They then grab sand and point to their face with their other hand. I don't know what happened but I think I understand, I hand Faust back to them and look at the man who has now recovered and stands. I glare at him and he stumbles back slightly.

“Don’t you know when someone says no it means no? Get out of here before I call the attention of the guards,” there are no guards in sight but the notion strikes fear in the man who leaves without a word. I crouch down and catch my apprentice by the hand, the moment we meet eyes the tears start flowing, I pull them into an embrace and rub their back shushing comforts into their ear. I watch the man approach the street and flick magic his way, causing him to trip into a large burly man walking in the street. I think he still needs to learn his lesson. I look back at my apprentice pulling away before witnessing the man's unruly fate. They sniffle and look down at Faust who is wrapped around their hand.

“Faust,” they give her chin scratches and look up at me.

“You’re safe now, well maybe you were never in danger, who knew you could swing that cane so hard, maybe you don't need as much physical therapy as much as I thought you did” a snort comes out of them and they try to hide their laughter behind their hand. “Let's go home now” my apprentice nods back at me grabbing my hand as I help them to their feet.

—- Asra folds up the blanket and packs our belongings as I button my coverup. I recount the events that just happened. I may have been able to defend myself but this never would’ve happened if I could just tell that man to piss off. I feel the lump in my throat return. Squeezing the handle of my cane in my hand as I try to bite back my tears.

“All packed up” Asra's voice catches me off guard. He lightly places his hand on my arm and gives me a warm smile. “Hey, you didn't do anything wrong, that man had it coming it was unfortunate he had to face the wrath of MC the mighty warrior equipped with a cane and a fearless snake," Faust pokes her head out from my should and bleps her tongue out at me. I smile at Asra's encouraging words, but I don’t think he understands why I'm really upset. He leans down again so I can climb onto his back and he walks back to the streets setting me down once were on stable ground. Faust climbs from my shoulders and onto Asra's as I walk close to the docs looking for a gondola.

“Hey, I said we could walk home didn't I?” Asra smiles at me reminding me of our deal from this morning. I nod and follow him towards our shop. Our trek back home is quiet, it’s usually quiet due to my lack of speech ability, but it’s especially quiet as we walk along the cobblestone streets. The afternoon sun still illuminates the streets but it slowly falls behind the buildings as we go through the city.

“So you learned a new word today,” Asra catches my attention. Yea I guess I did, and with this new word comes me repeating it whenever possible so it sticks in my brain. I take a deep breath and stop in my tracks. Asra gives me a confused look.

“NOOO-” I yell as loud it as I can. My new word. Asra jumps and puts his hand over my mouth trying to stifle his laughter”

“Mc, please! People are gonna think you're being attacked” he whispers, laughing between words.

“Asra,” I muffle under his hand, poking him in the shoulder. We then hear feet rushing towards us.

“Guards!” Asra picks me uplifting me by the legs, practically throwing me over his shoulder, and my arms find his shoulders, anchoring me in place. He takes off running both of us giggling. Asra runs behind a building and sets me down, peeking around the corner to make sure we weren't followed. I don't understand why he ran, he simply could've explained the situation but I guess his mischievous nature got the best of him. He laughs between breaths. Turning to face me Asra puts his hands on his hips to scold me but his smiles betrays his stern persona.

“Why would you do that? You really are just attracting trouble wherever you go,” Asra's smile is warm. But he’s right. My inability to speak has now become a danger. If Asra could use magic to make me speak I would request it in an instant. But this is something I had to do for myself. I have to be determined and try my hardest. I fiddle with a loose button on my coverup, trying not to recount the panic that swelled in me because I couldn't ask the man to leave. Asra is now giving me a concerned look, I can see the sadness behind his eyes when he looks at me like that.

“I was only kidding MC, I don't think your THAT much of a trouble maker," his attempt at a joke makes the corners of my mouth upturn ever so slightly. "hey how about we get something to eat, maybe soooome” my heart flutters, is he gonna say what I think he is. He taps a finger to his chin pretending to ponder, smirking at the look I give him. “Pumpkin bread?” I nearly jump, nodding so quickly my head may roll off my shoulders. “Well then,” Asra puts his arm out for me to take “shall we?” I grab his arm and we walk toward the marketplace. —- My apprentice and I waltz through our neighborhood arms linked together, and I’m able to carry their weight and keep them balanced, so they rest their cane’s handle on their arm. I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was utterly terrified when I saw the event that took place. I also would be lying if I said I wasn’t proud that they defended themself, especially Faust. When I left them alone I exaggerated my instructions to her but she knew there was a sense of seriousness in my speech. We approach the stand of our favorite baker.

“Well if it isn't Asra and- oh you look a little worse for wear,” I look at our appearance, I guess we do look a little disheveled after our day, scaring off creeps and running from guards. Especially my friend on my arm, sand coating parts of their skin from earlier in the day. Their face still a little puffy from all their crying.

“I think we’re deserving of some tea and pumpkin bread,” the baker gives me a knowing look and turns to fetch us our treats, my apprentice lets go on my arm and steadies their stance with their cane.

“Tea,” they nod and walk over to their usual seat. I sit on the stairs next to their stool. The baker approaches us with two cups and hands us our own respective drinks. I take a sniff of the warm brew. It smells of berries and mint. Taking a long sip I feel my whole body relax. I see my apprentice let the stiffness of their body ease from the corner of my eye as well. The baker returns with two loaves of our favorite pumpkin bread and leans on a table looking us up and down.

“Seems you visited the beaches? Fun day?” My apprentice tenses once again. Taking a slow bite of their bread and nodding slowly. I quickly think of ways to change the subject.

“Yes, ahh yes I actually found quite a few seashells if you’d like to see,” I stand and reach into my pockets pulling out all the shells I collected from the beach and placing them on the table for the baker to peruse. We converse back and forth trying to determine which shell belongs to which sea creature. I can see my apprentice from the corner of my eye, they continue to eat their bread in silence looking down. I can tell they don’t want to be asked about our day. I won't dare ask them to tell me what exactly happened today, but I feel that they are shaken up about more than just what happened. That's when I hear it though. Their small voice uttering something. The baker and I turn towards them in awe as they attempt to speak.

“Puh... pump... kin brrr... brrread,” they look up at us beaming eyes misty. Then they open their mouth again. “Thhh... hank.... yyy- yyyou” I look over at the baker, we come here often so he knows of my apprentice's situation, he wipes a stray tear from his eye and smiles back at them.

“You are very welcome,” the warmness in my heart flutters. Seeing them improve fills me with pride, and it brings me even more joy to see them smile, my dear, kind, friendly apprentice.

[lloydskywalkers]

skywalker syndrome, pt. III

so!! in honor of being shut up inside under pseudo-quarantine in this wonderful day and age, here is an extra-long fic for you guys just because :D

(fiNE it would’ve been this long either way but i have somewhat of an excuse now)

anyways here’s the final part of skywalker syndrome, featuring things actually Getting Better for once! (and on that note i hope you’re all doing alright and keeping safe <3)

So, Lloyd decides later. He probably could’ve handled that better.

But you know what, everyone’s been telling him to open up about stuff. It’s not his fault all that stuff is ugly, and maybe explodes half the power lines on the block.

Lloyd bites his lip harder, and squeezes his eyes shut tight enough to force the welling moisture back. His eyes are sore and puffy enough already, and his head feels like it’s over-stuffed with cotton and ready to explode. More tears are the last thing he needs.

On top of like, everything else. Because not only does Sensei Wu now know that the person who chopped Lloyd’s arm off was, in fact, Lloyd himself, but he’s probably going to tell everyone else that little detail too, and then all of them are going to think Lloyd’s head is — is out of place, except for maybe Nya, until she hears from Sensei Wu about his complete meltdown, and then Lloyd’s going to lose everyone.

Lloyd’s chest hitches. He forces back the wave of nausea, and makes himself look at this analytically. On one hand, it’s a total betrayal that stings maybe a little more than it might have any other time, because he’s been getting hit with a lot of betrayals lately. And while it isn’t exactly unusual in their line of work, it does feel like a little more than usual this month in particular.

On the other hand — which is metal ‘cause it’s Lloyd’s, heh — there’s absolutely nothing left of Lloyd’s respect in the world to stop him from blaring N-pop as loud as his headphones will go while lying at the edge of the roof of their apartment, staring blankly into the nothingness of the night sky as he ignores the drying damp streaks all over his face, instead of going to evening practice like he’s supposed to. So at least that’s a plus.

But on — well, he guesses he needs someone else’s hand, now — he really should have known better than to assume he’d get away with that.

He manages to hear Kai before he sees him, but it’s a near thing. Kai’s footsteps are quiet even when he’s not trying to be, like the rest of them, and even now that Lloyd’s playlist has mellowed off into something quieter and instrumental, he almost misses him closing the rooftop door.

But then Kai comes and sits next to him, right near where Lloyd’s head is lying, and that’s impossible to miss. So Lloyd sucks in a bracing breath and tugs his headphones off, dully figuring that the only way he’s escaping this confrontation is to throw himself off the roof. Which, while admittedly kind of tempting, will probably only make Kai more concerned, and Lloyd’s been doing that enough lately.

He tilts his head, peaking at Kai from the corner of his eyes. Kai’s expression is unreadable, his eyes far away where they fix on the city vista. Lloyd bites his lip. He wants to hold out, to let Kai do the talking — but the anxiety churning in his gut becomes unbearable, so he ends up cracking first.

“Hi,” he croaks, painfully aware of how water-logged his voice still sounds. “I guess you saw the lights go nuclear, then.”

Kai gives a quiet snort. “Kinda hard to miss, bud.”

Lloyd winces, then sneaks another tentative glance at him. He doesn’t look like he thinks Lloyd’s crazy, but Lloyd also has zero luck whatsoever, so he’s not quite letting his guard down yet. “Yeah,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t need to apologize. S’fine with me,” Kai shrugs, like Lloyd didn’t just knock out all the power in their apartment. “Makes things exciting every once in a while, you know?”

“Ha,” Lloyd breathes. “Exciting.”

“Mm-hm,” Kai says, swinging a leg over the edge of the roof, his eyes still on the horizon. Lloyd shifts his head on the paved rooftop, watching as Kai’s leg sways back and forth over the dim city streets below.

“Not as exciting as your conversation with Sensei must’ve been, though.”

Lloyd’s stomach bottoms out, and he goes rigid, before swiftly sitting up. “Y-you heard that?” he manages to squeak out.

Kai shakes his head. “Not all of it. Mostly just raised voices. No one wanted to eavesdrop, or anything.”

Lloyd worries his lip more, feeling sick. That’s not the answer he’s looking for. “But you heard some of it.”

Kai exhales slowly, his shoulders slumping. He finally tears his gaze from the horizon, and faces him. Lloyd wants to duck away, but there’s no recrimination in Kai’s eyes. Just a whole lot of empathy, and doesn’t that make Lloyd want to start crying again.

“Yeah,” he finally sighs. “I heard enough.”

Lloyd bites his lip harder, and turns back to stare across the city, his eyes watering. “Oh,” he breathes.

Because — what else is he supposed to say? Kai, his big brother, who’s always been solid and steady, who’s always followed (well, mostly, but that one time was also Lloyd’s fault) him faithfully — Kai, who works so hard to keep them safe, and has literally bled for this job, got to hear Lloyd screaming about how much he hates being the Green Ninja, the team leader, like a selfish, ungrateful brat.

Kai, who wanted to be the Green Ninja enough to risk his life for it — who probably still wants to be the Green Ninja, somewhere in him, if Lloyd hasn’t totally soured the taste of it by now.

“I didn’t — I didn’t mean—” Lloyd stutters over the words, almost frantically. He’s breathing too fast, talking too fast, but he’s got to — he needs to make Kai understand. “I didn’t really — I love this team, Kai, I do, I love being the Green Ninja, it just — sometimes — and he — he went and—”

“Lloyd — Lloyd, breathe. C’mon, breathe with me.”

Kai’s hands are steady and grounding on his shoulders, even as Lloyd gasps desperately for air, desperately forcing his nerves back under control before the city gets another unexpected power outage.

Finally, Lloyd manages to match his breathing to Kai’s, slow and steady, until the world stops spinning quite as much. He gives a shuddering exhale, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“T-thanks,” he mutters.

Kai stares at him in concern, his eyes darker than usual in the night around them. He draws back a bit, blowing his breath out. Then, laying a hand on Lloyd’s good shoulder, he jerks his head back toward the rooftop exit. “Wanna make hot chocolate?”

Kai, as usual, always knows exactly what to say.

Lloyd nods fervently, following him back down inside with little hesitation. Their apartment’s quiet by now, mostly dark save for the moonlight, as everyone’s probably gone to bed. Lloyd can’t help but be overwhelmingly thankful for this.

The hallway floor they walk across is clean, too, even if the light sockets above are all empty. Someone must’ve swept the glass up, Lloyd thinks with a hot flash of guilt. Kai jabs at the kitchen switch as they leave the hall, and the lights flicker on, leaving Lloyd to blink in confusion.

“Emergency lightbulbs,” Kai says in explanation, with a faint, wry smile. “Zane’s been prepared. We’ve got a backup generator, too.”

“Oh,” Lloyd breathes, his face heating as he lets himself sink into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Well, it’s not like Zane was wrong. Having spare lightbulbs around is probably something Lloyd should start considering anyways, but he’s been thinking he wouldn’t need to worry about that anymore, since his powers were—

Well. ‘Were’ is the key word here. His powers were under control. They’re pretty glaringly not now.

The microwave goes off with a sharp ding, and Lloyd almost jumps from his skin before placing the sound. Kai is pulling two mugs from the microwave, before dumping the little hot chocolate packets in them. Despite himself, Lloyd wrinkles his nose.

“You make hot chocolate like a heathen.”

Kai scoffs quietly. “I make hot chocolate fast. No one’s got time to wait on a kettle. Besides,” he adds. “You’re one to talk. I know this is how you make tea when Sensei’s not around.”

Kai immediately winces at the mention, clearly regretting having brought Wu up. Lloyd’s shoulders tighten, but he forces himself to relax, exhaling slowly through his nose. It’s been long enough since the…argument…that most of his fiery anger has cooled into an aching ball of hurt instead. Which is typical, Lloyd’s garbage at staying that angry for very long, and normally he wishes he was better at it, but now…

There’s a fine thread of shame creeping in there as well, and maybe a little bit of guilt. And Lloyd’s already seen what his anger does. Maybe he can just hold a quiet grudge for a bit, and that’ll make his point.

“Peppermint tea tastes better in the microwave,” Lloyd finally replies, a little sullenly.

Kai snorts. “Zane would be horrified with you.”

“I’m sure he would,” Lloyd says, but the words are too heavy for it to come off like he wanted. Zane would be horrified at him, but not for his tea crimes. Lloyd’s still surprised Kai isn’t horrified at him. Maybe he is, and he’s just biding his time to accuse him, and any minute now—

“Is your arm hurting?”

Lloyd blinks, reorienting himself. “Huh?”

Kai nods his head toward him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Belatedly, Lloyd realizes that he’s been digging his fingers into the groove where the prosthetic connects to his arm, clinging tightly enough that the scarring around it twists. Oh, he thinks blankly. So that’s why it’s starting to ache worse.

Lloyd gingerly peels his fingers from here they’re locked around his arm, wincing as he does. “A-a bit,” he admits. “I probably just made it worse. But uh, hey, I know it definitely works with my powers, now…?”

Kai doesn’t look amused. Lloyd lets his head hang, staring at the ground. He hates this. Normally he’s completely in synch with Kai, to the point where he knows exactly what’s going through his big brother’s head. But right now, uncharacteristically quiet and subdued as Kai is, Lloyd has no idea what the emotion brewing in his eyes might be.

There’s a quiet screech of wood across the floor, and Lloyd looks up to Kai dragging his chair closer, before setting both mugs of hot chocolate on the table in front of them.

“Can I see?” Kai asks, hesitantly. Lloyd pauses for a beat as the question registers, and Kai wrings the edge of one hand with the other. “I just, y’know…heat? It helps, sometimes, with other stuff, so maybe…”

“Oh,” Lloyd blinks. “Oh! Y-yeah, of course.”

Relief flashes across Kai’s face, which Lloyd vaguely notes as weird, before he adjusts his chair again, fingers carefully skirting the raised area of Lloyd’s t-shirt, where the metal edge of his prosthetic is. Lloyd suddenly wants to make another pun, because the silence is a tad too thick, and Kai’s so awfully subdued about everything. And whether he thinks Lloyd’s just an ungrateful brat who’s lost the last of his sanity and should never, ever lead them again or not, Lloyd needs to see something in his expression other than this — this sad kind of hesitance, because it’s not Kai. If he was even yelling at him, that would at least be—

“Let me know if it hurts at all,” Kai murmurs, and Lloyd is vividly reminded of Jay, when he’d looked at his arm. It’s the same tone of voice, all quiet and hesitant like they’re afraid Lloyd’s going to break.

Lloyd doesn’t know if it makes it any better, them thinking he hasn’t already. He’s not sure he even wants to know.

Another beat passes with Kai still unmoving, and Lloyd’s about to grasp at the weakest of puns he’s got before his hands finally knead into the tight muscles of his shoulder, starting high then moving lower, drifting carefully toward the edge of the prosthetic.

Kai lays a gentle hand on the juncture where skin meets metal, and Lloyd feels the slow increase of heat before it settles on something that’s not too hot to burn, but definitely warm. The warmth spreads steadily through the rest of his arm and shoulder, heating the tense muscles in Lloyd’s shoulder, and he feels the rigidness there finally, truly relax, in a way it hasn’t in — well, since he’d lost his arm, probably.

It’s like his shoulders are getting heavier and lighter at the same time, and oh, Lloyd’s forgotten how good Kai was at this. He’s still painfully cautious around the prosthetic, though, and the silence isn’t — it isn’t uncomfortable, per say, but Lloyd knows there’s so much Kai’s thinking but not saying, and he wants to hear it. It’s almost stressing him out, actually. He wants to say something — but Kai’s hand on his shoulder is warm, and slowly but surely that warmth reaches the terrible ache that’s been lingering where the prosthetic connects for so long, and Lloyd almost weeps in relief as the pain ebbs.

“H—they really did a number on you, huh,” Kai hisses sympathetically, as his hand skims the raised, jagged lines of scarring.

Lloyd gives a boneless little shrug, trying to force back anxiety as Kai reminds him of the somewhat important fact that he doesn’t quite know who actually did a number on him. “It’s not that bad,” he mutters. “No need to get so up in arms about it.” There. Finally, a decent pun.

Kai seems to disagree, but the odd coughing noise he makes is close enough to a laugh. “Good to know your sense of humor died when we got yanked out of the realm.”

Against his will, Lloyd’s shoulders stiffen, and his breath hitches. He immediately curses himself, because it was a joke. Kai was just responding to Lloyd’s own horrible pun, and just because he used the word died doesn’t mean he has any idea why that might set Lloyd off, because he was gone before he saw Lloyd crumple to his knees on the sky tram, and he has no idea how loud Nya screamed when she’d heard the news, and he will never know how close Lloyd was to letting himself sink in the river instead and not coming back up, because Kai is tired and hollow-eyed and stressed enough, and Lloyd will not let himself become any more of a burden to him when—

“—Lloyd please, what did I say, come back—”

“Fine!” Lloyd gasps, jerking back from where Kai’s appeared in his face, his eyes wide and frightened. “Fine, I’m fine, I’m sorry, I just—”

Kai doesn’t even have to say anything. He just looks at him, and Lloyd’s words die in his throat. He buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, staring at the floor through his fingers.

Kai is quiet for another minute, then— “You’re really not fooling anyone, you know.”

Lloyd closes his eyes. “Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Kai nods. “You’re giving it your best shot, I’ll give you that. But you’re really not okay, Lloyd.”

“I am,” he says, but it’s wavering.

“Lloyd.” Kai’s tone is just a little too serious, shot with the undercurrent of ‘you’re lying to me right now, and I know it, don’t make me call you out on it’. It makes Lloyd’s stomach twist, because he definitely does not want to talk about it, at all, but also—

Kai was dead. Maybe not for real dead, but Lloyd had thought he was, and that had done — that had done some really bad stuff to his overall emotional state. So hearing that familiar concern now, when he’d recently convinced himself that he’d never hear it again, is a clear sign that this particular conversation isn’t going to end well.

“It’s okay if you’re not alright,” Kai says gently, and oh no, Lloyd’s really going to cry again. “You don’t have to be.”

Cycling through his available role models for defense mechanisms, Lloyd settles on Jay for some reason, and responds with utterly unconvincing babbling. “Well, I mean, I kind of can’t be alright, because, you know, my right arm’s gone—”

Kai chokes, and Lloyd breathes out a laugh. He’s thinking he can just get all the building feelings out that way, but he’s wrong, because two seconds into the laugh it turns into crying instead.

“M’sorry,” he moans, digging the heels of his palms into his welling eyes. “I just — give me a m-minute, I’ll—” his voice cracks traitorously. “I’ll get it together, promise—”

Lloyd grabs for his mug in desperation, hiding his face as he gulps at it — only to choke on how cold the hot chocolate’s gotten.

Kai gives an aggrieved sigh, tugging the mug from Lloyd’s hands and wrapping his own around it where he holds it close to his chest, slowly re-heating it. He stares at the mug for a beat, then looks back to Lloyd, a dangerous kind of fire in his eyes.

“I told you I’d kill him for doing that to you,” he says, his voice deadly low. “I still mean it.”

Lloyd blinks. It takes him a minute, but then—

Oh. Oh, no. Lloyd feels sick. Kai’s given him a way out — he’s given him a perfect way out. But he can’t keep lying to his brother forever.

“I cut it off myself,” he blurts, rushed and out of breathe. “It-it wasn’t my dad. It was me. I cut it off.”

Kai drops the mug. He barely catches it in time, setting it down with a painful, halting slowness on the table. He stares at Lloyd, his mouth opening and closing.

“What?”

“There was a snake,” Lloyd says, and he’s talking too fast now, everything spilling out like a busted dam. “I don’t — I don’t know where from but it — it was like the one that bit my dad, you know? And I was — I was doing fine, I was fine, without my powers and everything, but I was so stupid, Kai, I wasn’t looking and it — it got me, and I—”

He sucks in breath almost desperately, forcing himself to calm down again. Kai is staring at him with wide eyes, his face terribly pale, but he isn’t running away yet. Lloyd still has a chance.

“I would’ve been like him. And I couldn’t,” he continues, fiercely. “I couldn’t turn into him, I wouldn’t. I’m not my dad, so I chose not to be, and I don’t — I don’t regret it.”

There’s really nothing more that he can say, to try and explain it to Kai, other than give him the whole rundown of depressing events, so he falls silent, his words echoing in the quiet of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.”

Kai’s voice is ragged, cracking in the middle, and Lloyd is horrified to hear the wet, sniffled edge.

“What?” Lloyd blinks, taken aback. “No, Kai, this was definitely was my fault—”

“No,” Kai shakes his head, and Lloyd is even further horrified to see the sheen of water building at the edges of his eyes. Kai bites his lip hard enough to bleed, before continuing. “No, that’s not it. I’m sorry, Lloyd. I’m so sorry, I keep — I keep promising I’ll protect you, and I fail, every single time—”

“Kai, no,” Lloyd gapes at him. “No, you don’t. It’s not your fault this keeps happening, you try harder than anyone, and you — you always come through when it matters, you have no idea—”

“No!” Kai snaps, his head whipping up, his eyes wild. “You have no idea! You don’t know, Lloyd, you don’t even know how bad I messed up, when you needed — you don’t know—”

Kai hiccups on a sob, squeezing his eyes shut tight and tilting his head back, like he can physically stop himself from crying that way. “You don’t know. You— you’re what’s important, you and Nya and the guys, and I — Lloyd, I’m sorry—”

Lloyd stares at Kai, his mouth slightly agape. Kai’s trying, he’s trying so hard to stop it, but he’s doing about a good a job as Lloyd’s been at hiding his tears, which is…pretty terrible. And that’s — Kai is crying. Sure, Kai’s emotional, but he doesn’t — he doesn’t let himself cry, certainly not in front of Lloyd. He’s got this annoying thing about always seeming strong, but now he’s apparently run out of strength to keep it up, which kind of just feels like Lloyd’s shoved his heart into blender and hit go, and—

And Lloyd’s just staring at him, like a useless lump. FSM, he’s the worst little brother ever.

Lloyd snaps back into it, immediately crossing the distance that’s left between him and Kai, wrapping his arms around his brother’s middle and comforting him in the only way he’s got left — clinging to him as tightly as he can, like he can squeeze all the sadness out of him or absorb it like osmosis, or something, anything to help Kai like he always helps Lloyd, because—

Oh.

Lloyd speaks up quietly. “You’re really not okay either, Kai.”

Kai gives an awful, half-sobbing laugh. “You don’t say.” He digs his fingers tighter into his hair, eyes squeezing tight, and swears. “—so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall apart like — like—”

Lloyd gently tugs his hands away before he can tear his hair out, and wraps his metal arm around Kai’s shoulder, hoping it’s not painful. “It’s okay,” he tells him. “It’s okay, I promise. It’s okay if you’re not alright, either. It’s not fair to you. Stop holding yourself to some — some impossibly high level, Kai, it’s okay.”

“It’s not—”

“It is. I promise.” Then, exhaling shakily— “I’m sorry I scared you. Both back then, and now. I’m going to be better about that. I’m gonna be stronger.”

Kai gives a watery laugh. “Please. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says, thickly. “You cut off your own arm. How am I ever supposed to top that?”

Lloyd snorts wetly. “Please don’t ever try to,” he says, his voice clogged. “It sucks.”

Kai just gives a choking kind of laugh, before dropping his head onto Lloyd’s shoulder weakly, his breath shuddering out. Lloyd holds him best he can, trying to channel whatever Kai-ness he can into it, because that’s normally what works best on Lloyd.

When the…situations are reversed. Which is…a lot.

But Lloyd can do his part now, hugging Kai as tightly as he can, like it’ll put him back together and keep him there, all the pieces of his big brother that make up one of the strongest people on earth he knows. Like it’ll glue them both back together, somehow, like it’ll fix Lloyd’s arm and Kai’s heart and the whole team and the city and the now-icy cold hot chocolate Lloyd is going to wish he’d gotten to drink later.

Lloyd knows the chances are slim. But for now, at least they can pretend.

And who knows. Maybe it’ll — maybe this will help. Maybe they can duct tape themselves better after this. Who knows.

He got Kai back from the dead. Lloyd’s down for anything — anything — to make sure he stays fine the rest of his life.

************************  

Lloyd never does find out exactly what Kai was trying to apologize for that night. But he’s got a fairly good idea he knows what it is already, and voicing it isn’t gonna help.

But even though they ended up staying up way too late, missed practice the next morning, and totally ruined the hot chocolate with how many times they tried to reheat it, Lloyd thinks it might have worked, a little bit.

He doesn’t feel great about the whole situation with his uncle — pretty awful, actually. Sensei’s been avoiding him now, which works out okay, because Lloyd’s avoiding him, and he’s not sure if this is a good sign or a bad one. But…he feels better, on the whole, than he did. A lot less like his head is coming unscrewed, because if he’s got Nya and Kai sticking by him now, even after everything, then it’s not as hard to believe the rest of the team will, too.

Lloyd’s aware that this is a bad mindset to keep, because it’s not like — it’s not like they’re choosing sides, or anything. He’s not about to start a one-man-war on Sensei Wu just ‘cause he went behind Lloyd’s back and yanked the choice right out of his hands like every other choice his family’s yanked from him, but — but Lloyd’s not Garmadon.

He’s Lloyd, and Lloyd doesn’t storm off to the Underworld or level half the city when things get rough. He sticks it out, because he’s not a venom-devoured drama queen. He made sure of that.

(He doesn’t blow up any palaces or terrorize villages either, or say, wake the dead, because while his coping methods might not be great, at least murder isn’t his go-to resort.)

He does, however, skip practice again, which is quickly becoming an awful habit. But his arm hurts this morning, a bit more than usual because he slept on it wrong, and the idea of getting his butt handed to him in practice over and over again because of it is almost enough to make Lloyd tear up in humiliation all over his cereal.

But he doesn’t, because he’s done crying. He’s done being pathetic and — and a dead weight, and a poor excuse of a leader.

He’s also, like, really done being this dehydrated all the time. It sucks. He’d forgotten the killer headaches it leaves you with.

So Lloyd ignores the alarm going off on his watch and shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth instead, flexing his grip around the pencil he’s doodling over the latest headlines with. He immediately wishes he’d taken the grocery run last evening instead of Zane, because the health cereal he’s picked for them is disgusting, where’s the chocolate—

“Hey, Lloyd.”

Cole’s voice shouldn’t be a surprise, because it’s Cole, non-threat — but it’s been quiet in the apartment this morning, and Lloyd almost has a heart attack on the spot. Instead, he promptly chokes on his cereal, and spends the next half-minute hacking it up and coughing milk from his nose.

“Are you dying?” Cole asks, now standing in front of him, sounding mildly concerned.

“I’m alive,” he wheezes, wiping at his face. “Mos’ly.”

Cole’s lips quirk up in amusement, but he quickly smooths the expression out, nodding at him.

“You busy?”

Lloyd glances at his half-eaten bowl of cereal, then at the half-completed dragon he’d been sketching on the edges of the newspaper, another idea for his arm. “Not really…?”

“Good,” Cole says briskly, tossing his green hoodie toward him. Lloyd yelps, barely managing to catch it with before the jacket meets a soggy fate in his cereal bowl. “Let’s go out, then.”

“Go out — what? Wait Cole, I don’t — Cole!”

Lloyd finally scrambles after his brother, catching him as he swings the door open, half-tangled in his jacket as the right sleeve catches on his prosthetic. “Where are we—” He tugs in frustration at the sleeve. “—going, you’re supposed to be—” Another vicious yank. “—at practice right now.”

“And you’re not?” Cole sounds amused, though, and Lloyd glares at him, one arm pinned behind him by a sleeve, his other arm twisted somewhere over his head, tangled hopelessly in the other sleeve.

Cole bites his lip, an obviously large grin threatening to break out across his face. “Do you need help?”

“Yes,” Lloyd grinds out, his cheeks flaming.

Cole fails at holding back the snicker this time, but Lloyd can forgive it for now, since he also takes pity, untangling Lloyd from his sweatshirt prison. Once Lloyd’s finally figured out how to get his sleeve over the prosthetic — and man, the temptation to hack all the right sleeves off of everything he owns is getting stronger by the day — he follows Cole out their apartment complex, heading off to…wherever, Cole is taking him.

“Out,” Cole shrugs, as they carefully step over another Colossi-sized hole in the street, maneuvering past the chunks of concrete the workers still haven’t cleaned up.

“Yeah, that’s specific,” Lloyd mutters, ducking his head and pulling his hood further over his face as they pass by other pedestrians.

Cole’s got his hood up as well, but he’s always stood out a little more than Lloyd. A little (lot) taller than Lloyd, too, so they still get a few curious looks. Not as many as he’s been used to, though, when he was running around in the blazoned green Resistance gi all the time, so Lloyd will take what he can get.

He’s had enough pitying looks to last him a lifetime, and that was before he showed up on primetime Ninjago City television.

“You’ve been cooped up too long,” Cole says, eyeing him. “You gotta stop hiding away, get back out in the world.”

Lloyd bristles. “I went to the gas station with Kai just the other night!”

“Yeah, at two a.m.” Cole sighs — then yelps as he nearly runs face-first into a broken street light, still dangling by the slimmest of twisted metal. Lloyd breaks into snickers at his expression, and Cole makes a face at him.

“My point is, the city’s not on fire anymore,” Cole continues, and Lloyd’s stomach drops as his voice turns soft. That means he’s probably about to say something like— “No one’s hunting you down anymore, Lloyd. You don’t have to keep hiding.”

Lloyd looks down, kicking at a loose chip of concrete. “Yeah,” he says, dully. “I know.”

He does, really, because no one’s jumped out and threatened to drag him off to his father lately, but it’s just — it’s hard to shake. It’s hard to shake the idea that someone’s out there, eyeing his every move, just waiting to rip his world to pieces. It’s hard to shake the idea that any one of these people could be hiding a knife behind their back, a vendetta behind a smile.

He swallows. “I’m working on it.”

“Yeah,” Cole says, and his voice is downcast now, too. “I guess we all kinda are.”

Lloyd bites his lip. There’s a whole lot of understanding in Cole’s voice, but it figures. They’ve all been hit hard by, well, everything that’s happened recently, but Cole’s always tended to see things the same way Lloyd does — with the eyes of a leader, always planning, always looking ahead, and always looking back on what went wrong. And the way he watches the people around them, with a look in his eyes that’s painfully familiar, says a lot more than anything else.

“But ah, to actually answer the question,” Cole speaks up, a bit hesitantly. “I thought, uh, maybe we could go to the hospital.”

Lloyd blinks rapidly. “The hosp— why?” A spark of irritation flares in his chest. If this is about his arm…he’s told them, many times, that he’d gotten it looked at. Many. Times. There’s nothing else any doctor could do about it that Pixal can’t, because all they can do at this point is prescribe him more pain meds, and Lloyd is getting sick of those, so—

“I was just thinking, maybe you could, uh…visit the kids. If you felt up to it.”

Lloyd pauses full-stop in the street, double-taking. “Why?” Cole turns to him, and he quickly continues. “That’s, I mean — not that I don’t want to visit kids, I-I’d be fine with that, no problem, but like — why would they want to see me? Now?”

Because sure, Lloyd’s always down for visiting kids, especially at the hospital — that’s where he met Nelson. But he also — he hasn’t really been showing up on TV in the….best light, lately. Sure, he gave that one speech, but other than that, the most his name has come up is in direct relation to his father, who very recently destroyed half the city, and probably put a whole lot of people in the hospital.

Besides, Lloyd thinks glumly, his left hand kneading reflexively at his shoulder, clutching the edge of the prosthetic. He’s not exactly an inspirational figure right now, much less a role model. More like a model of exactly how not to live your life—

“Because they’ll want to see you,” Cole shrugs, matter-of-factly. “And ‘cause I think some of them could learn something from you.”

“Learn what?” Lloyd breathes, almost laughing. “Cole, I can’t even teach you guys anything.”

“Okay, one, that’s a lie,” Cole says, firmly. “We learn a lot from you, give yourself some credit. You just have to be at practice for us to learn.”

Lloyd flushes, looking down, but Cole nudges him, forcing his gaze back up.

“And two, you’d be surprised.” A wry smile pulls at the edges of his mouth, before he sighs. “Also, I’m kinda hoping you’ll learn something, too.”

It’s Lloyd’s turn to make a face.“Oh, great. So it’s that kind of visit.”

Cole rolls his eyes. He pauses, his shoulders hunching up a bit, looking hesitant again. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Nah,” Lloyd sighs, heavily. “I’m not gonna turn down visiting kids in the hospital, what kind of monster do you think I am.”

“I don’t,” Cole says, and his eyes are a little too knowing. “But I do think you’re entitled to choose whether you’re up for it or not.”

And oof, there goes Lloyd’s breath whooshing out of his chest again. “How did you—”

“Also,” Cole says, before Lloyd can continue. “You’re entitled to a meltdown every once and a while, too.”

Lloyd goes scarlet. “I — the other night — it was an accident, I just—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cole steamrolls over his stuttering airily. Then, just as casually— “There are always spare lightbulbs in the lower left pantry shelf, by the way. Just in case you ever needed to know.”

“Got it,” Lloyd murmurs, ducking his head.

“And half the city’s transformers already got obliterated by the Colossi, so one patch job isn’t a whole lot. Just in case, you know, someone was thinking of beating themselves up for it. Which they shouldn’t.”

Lloyd’s cheeks are flaming. “I-I got it,” he stammers out. Trying to regain some semblance of composure, because he’s been feeling like a nine year-old again way too many times this week as it is, he clears his throat. “I do want to go. Thank you for — for asking, but I do.”

Cole’s expression lightens in relief. “Good,” he says, clapping him on his left shoulder. “Because I might have already told the hospital we were coming.”

“Of course you did,” Lloyd sighs, as they round another street corner, the hospital coming into view.

“Hey, I happen to know my teammates,” Cole shrugs, grinning. “You’re predictable.”

“Of course I am,” Lloyd groans. “You know, I really…”

Lloyd’s train of thought completely derails and plummets straight off a cliff right then, so he trails off in a strangled silence as his mouth goes bone-dry.

Oh. He’d forgotten the view the hospital gave you, of…certain areas…of the city.

“Lloyd?”

Cole’s voice is muffled, filtered weirdly like it’s underwater. Lloyd’s vision tunnels, seeing but not really seeing as he stares at the blank spot in the horizon. He remembers the building that used to be there, twenty-four stories high and just blocking the corner of the sunset in the evenings. He remembers the last time he saw it standing, from halfway across the city, Skylor unconscious in his arms and his father furious. He remembers watching it fall.

He wonders if they ever found—

“Lloyd?”

Cole’s voice is hesitant, laced with concern. Lloyd blinks wildly, tearing himself from the memory, and shudders.

“Let’s go,” he says, shaking his head, as if he can shake the past off. As if he can shake her off, and everything she’s left him with.

He doubts he ever will, but Cole’s hand on his shoulder as they climb the steps outside is warm and grounding, and a reminder that, at least, she didn’t take everything from him.

The front desk attendant at the hospital lets them through without batting an eye, which is a nice change, Lloyd thinks petulantly to himself. He’s quickly tugged from any more thoughts like that, because Cole drags him straight to the kids’ ward, and Lloyd’s suddenly left desperately trying to remember where, exactly, his everything-is-bright-and-happy expression decided to disappear to, because the kids all light up like fireworks when they see him, and Lloyd’s kind of just staring weakly back.

Cole saves him, stepping in front and greeting the kids with bright enthusiasm, which gives Lloyd enough time to pull himself back together. He manages to stutter out some decently happy stuff, but then the kids start talking about the Resistance, and how awesome he looked on TV, and did he totally kick his father’s butt, and was it so cool getting to fight like that, and they were all rooting for him during the prison fight—

Lloyd’s torn between running for the window, and asking them all who in the world let them watch the prison battle, because he’s pretty sure that was not a kid-friendly kind of thing. Instead, he stammers out that yeah, it was pretty cool, and sure, he kicked his — Garmadon’s butt, all while pulling his sweatshirt sleeve further over his arm as it throbs with the constant, painful reminder that he’s a total fraud.

Cole saves him, once again.

“Hey, guys, we’ve got time to talk to all of you, and — yeah, sure bud, we can sign that for you, but Lloyd wants to talk to a few of your friends in particular, okay?”

Lloyd blinks rapidly as Cole steers him away, his words registering. “Wait, what?” He tries to yank his arm from Cole’s hold. “Cole, wait, who do you want me to — wait, I don’t have anything prepared—”

“You won’t need to,” Cole says firmly, then nods at the kid he’s been dragging him over to. Lloyd glares at Cole, huffing out a sigh before craning around his shoulder.

“I don’t—” Lloyd freezes, his mouth open. He shuts it.

The kid Cole’s been dragging him to is sitting by himself toward the back of the common room. The look in his eyes is eerily familiar, hollow and empty-looking where he’s slumped on the couch. He’s leaning awkwardly to one side, and it takes Lloyd a minute — too long, really — before he spots it.

Oh, Lloyd thinks, his breath whooshing out from his chest. He gets it now.

He ducks out from behind Cole, his feet taking him forward almost unconsciously, and he carefully approaches the kid.

“Hey,” he says gently, going down on a knee in front of the kid. “I like your socks.” He nods at the Starfarer-emblazoned ones he’s got on, where his feet dangle over the couch edge.

The kid looks at him, his eyes widening, then back toward his socks. His eyebrows pull into a sad little glare. “I can’t wear my shoes,” he says, hollowly. “I can’t tie ‘em. Not with my…” He trails off, and turns the glare on the empty sleeve of the hospital gown that hangs from his left shoulder. “My arm,” he finishes, quietly.

Something in Lloyd’s heart twists with painful familiarity. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, ruefully. The kid squints at him, and Lloyd exhales, before tugging the sleeve of his hoodie off. The kid’s eyes go huge, and Lloyd swallows, before continuing, smiling shakily at him. “See? I couldn’t even buckle my armor on the first week, and that was after I got the prosthetic. It’s tough stuff.”

The kid continues to stare at the prosthetic, his eyes looking like they’re about to pop out of his head. “Your arm’s gone,” he whispers. “Just like mine.”

“Yeah,” Lloyd breathes out. He rolls up his sleeve, pointing to the edges of the prosthetic. “Lost it right about…here.”

The kid’s eyes rove over the metal arm, lingering on his and Nya’s designs, before zeroing in on where the scarring starts. “And you’re still a ninja?” The kid’s voice is still hushed, almost awestruck.

“Sure am,” Lloyd says, with a crooked smile. “Team leader and everything.” Even if he’s been a pretty awful one lately, his mind supplies.

The kid’s lips part, and he hesitates before speaking again. “A-and you can still…do all that stuff?” he asks, his voice painfully tentative. “Even with…even with your arm?”

Lloyd’s throat goes tight, but he nods. “Yeah,” he says, thickly. “Yeah, I can — I can still do ninja stuff. Took me a bit, but I can tie my shoes, too. And I can still do, uh, handsprings and everything.”

A myriad of expressions crosses the kid’s face, shock then joy then something a whole lot like hope, and Lloyd suddenly realizes why the empty emotion he’d seen in the kid’s eyes when he walked in looked so familiar. It’s the same hollow look Lloyd’s seen looking back at him in the mirror every stupid day since—

And now it’s gone, replaced by something bright and shining.

“Awesome,” the kid says, his voice hushed and reverent, like Lloyd’s just given him some untold kind of gift.

Lloyd has to swallow again, and blinks frantically. “My — my name’s Lloyd, by the way,” he says, holding his hand out — the left one, so it’s not awkward for the kid. The kid grins, in a way that clearly says, ‘I know, duh, moron’. “What’s yours?”

The kid beams. “Max,” he says, gripping Lloyd’s arm and shaking enthusiastically, wobbling a bit off-balance.

“Nice to meet you, Max,” Lloyd smiles back. Then he goes serious, meeting the kid’s eyes. “Listen. All that stuff — you can do it, too. Tie your shoes and everything. It’ll take a bit, but you can, I promise.”

Max stares at him, listening intently, his eyes bright, and Lloyd suddenly feels a terrible amount of pressure.

“But you—” he falters, then sucks a breath in before continuing. “Don’t do it by yourself, okay? You’ve got — you’ve got family, right?”

He immediately wants to kick himself, because what a stupid question, has Harumi taught him nothing—

The kid nods, and Lloyd exhales heavily in relief. “Okay. Good. Let them help you. Family and friends, and the doctors here — they care about you. So even — even if it feels annoying sometimes, or you start thinking that maybe they just think you’re too weak, you gotta let them help you.”

Lloyd pauses, and thinks of Nya, her snarky humor and unwavering strength, the long nights they’d stay up together as she redesigned his arm. He thinks of Jay, coming up with new puns for him and leaving the pain meds bottle on the lowest shelf. He thinks of Zane, of actually listening to him and adjusting his entire training schedule; of Kai, sitting up all night with him and never holding his outbursts against him. He thinks of Cole, sewing the team back together with infinite patience and dragging him out to the hospital because he knew exactly what Lloyd needed to see.

Lloyd thinks about how completely, utterly terrible his life would be without them.

“‘Cause they care about you, and you — you can do it, but you can’t do it without them. You need people who care about you in your corner, so don’t ever take them for granted.”

Max’s eyes have widened a bit, but he nods. “I won’t,” he says, solemnly.

“Good,” Lloyd says, then smiles wryly. “You’ll get the hang of it a lot faster than I did, at that rate.”

“No way, you’re the Green Ninja,” Max scoffs, and Lloyd snorts despite himself. He shakes his head, turning to exchange looks with Cole—

—only to pause, because Cole’s eyes are horribly shiny, all suspiciously watery as he sniffs a bit.

‘You sap’, Lloyd mouths at him, his eyebrows drawing together in accusation. Cole flashes him a gesture, neatly hidden from the other kids behind his hand, and Lloyd is about to descend on him for the audacity, because he always lectures Lloyd for doing that, when Max is suddenly tugging furiously at his hand.

“Wait, wait, you gotta meet my friend!” he says, bouncing from his seat in reckless energy. Lloyd steadies him as he wobbles, and the kid beams at him. “She lost her leg ‘cause she’s real sick, and she’s been pretty sad about it too, but wait until she sees you—! She’s gonna freak out, come on, come on—”

Lloyd gives a startled laugh, but he lets Max drag him forward, tiny fingers locked around his metal ones. Cole waves to him where he’s on the floor, letting kids climb over all him, and he’s got the worst of knowing smiles on his face as they pass.

Lloyd casts his eyes skyward. Cole’s gonna be so smug about this later, but watching the look on Max’s face as he introduces him to kid after kid, Lloyd really can’t bring himself to mind.

******************

They stay a whole three hours longer than they were supposed to, but Max falls asleep on Lloyd’s shoulder by the time they have to go, so the nurses can’t get too upset about them staying way past visiting hours.

“Because you two were adorable, seriously, it’d be like kicking a puppy. I can’t believe I didn’t get any pictures,” Cole shakes his head, looking disappointed in himself.

“Good,” Lloyd says fervently. “Kai would never let me live it down.”

“Aw, he’d frame it on our wall, though.”

“Yeah, and then I’d never live that down!”

Cole snorts loudly, and Lloyd huffs, bouncing down the steps as they exit the hospital. They fall into comfortable silence for a bit, and Lloyd spares a look at Cole from the corners of his eyes, biting his lip. His good mood is fading as they leave the hospital behind them, stepping out into the city evening, the streetlights just flickering on, bright and shiny as they’ve recently been repaired — reminding him.

“What you said, before we went in,” he finally asks headlong. “About…being entitled to choose, and stuff.” Lloyd swallows, then continues. “Was that, um. Did you happen to maybe, like, hear…”

“You and Sensei Wu’s talk?” Cole finishes with a wince, and uh oh, Lloyd can hear the capital ’T’ emphasis on talk. “Our apartment’s really small, Lloyd.”

Oh, no. “H-how much did you hear?” Lloyd asks, almost afraid of the answer.

Cole carefully avoids his eyes, his mouth titled downwards in guilt. “Kind of…everything?”

He definitely should’ve been afraid of the answer, Lloyd thinks numbly. “But Kai said you only—” he pauses, meeting Cole’s sympathetic gaze. His stomach turns. Oh. “Right. Okay. Kai was just trying to make me feel better.”

“He likes to do that, if you haven’t noticed.”

Lloyd grimaces, feeling a stab of his own guilt. “Yeah."

“He’s not the only one,” Cole says, pointedly. “I didn’t tell you that to make you feel bad. We’d all like you to feel better.”

“Yeah, well—” Lloyd freezes. A thought suddenly hits him, with a swooping kind of horror. If they heard everything, like everything everything—

“Cole, the part when I said — the part where I said I hated this family,” he stammers frantically. “I didn’t mean — I meant my blood one. Only my blood one, I didn’t — you guys are—”

“Lloyd.” Cole’s hand is gentle on his shoulder, halting them where they stand on the empty street that runs along the river. “I get it. And I know you didn’t mean it, about your family. Either of them.”

Lloyd’s mouth turns downward. “You guys are the only family that matters to me,” he says, stiffly.

Bitterly, his mind supplies, not without a sting, and would it shut up, he’s trying to — to emotionally distance himself here—

Cole’s eyes dart away briefly, something immeasurably sad flashing in them, and almost too empathetic.

“Lloyd, you — you have us. You’ll always have us. And I’m not — I’m not saying you should feel one way or another, ‘cause I know you’re hurt. And you have every right to be, that’s very justified.”

Lloyd looks down. “But,” he says, dully.

“But,” Cole exhales. “But lying to yourself can hurt, too. And I know — look, it was super uncool. That was low of him, and undoubtedly in the wrong. We’re all with you on that. But Lloyd, you know he — you know he cares about you, right? He didn’t… he didn’t do it to hurt you. That wasn’t his intention.”

“How do I know,” Lloyd snaps, bitterly. “How am I supposed to know, Cole. How many times am I supposed to tell myself my mom didn’t mean to leave me, my dad didn’t mean to hurt me, my uncle didn’t mean to — to—”

Lloyd breaks off, his stupid traitor eyes threatening to run as he sniffs. He blows his breath out, steadying himself. Cole, wonderful person that he is, does not comment on any of this.

“I’m just tired,” he finally whispers, staring out with hollow eyes on the river, the dark water glinting in the streetlights. Cole’s hand drops onto his shoulder again, and he squeezes once.

“I know, bud,” he says, sounding horribly young and yet so much older than he should, all at the same time. “I know. I am too.”

Lloyd doesn’t say anything to that, but he doesn’t really need to. The silence is enough, for them — it’s always been, with Cole. There are some things you can say, that you can talk out with words or powers or weapons, but there are some things that you just—

You don’t really get it, until you find it in you to call yourself leader. There aren’t exactly words for how it feels like, playing chicken with your friends’ lives and your family’s lives and the entire city and country on the line.

You just…feel tired.

Cole’s breath hitches, and his hand tightens on Lloyd’s shoulder, carefully around the edges of the prosthetic, but not in a way that grates. It’s normal Cole-careful, not the brittle kind scared-careful everyone’s been about it.

“Just…take it from someone who’s let a family argument fester,” he says quietly. “It doesn’t stop hurting. Not until you face it. However that ends is up to you, but. It helps.”

Lloyd swallows, and the river in front of him blurs, the streetlights turning hazy in his vision. He glances at Cole, then finally meets his eyes.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Cole nods. He hesitates, then something in his expression steels.

“And if I’m wrong, I’ll help you sign the — the disownment papers, or whatever, myself,” he adds, suddenly fierce. “You can have my last name, instead. Or Kai and Nya’s, or — or we’ll all mash ours together into some garbled mess that’s yours, and you can have like, five or six whole step-parents, and it’ll be great.”

The laugh that startles out of Lloyd is so unexpected he almost makes himself jump, but it’s genuine. A little wet, maybe, but it’s the staggering feeling of relief Lloyd’s been looking for, been wanting, been needing, and—

“It’s worth it,” he blurts out. “It’s worth being the Green Ninja for you guys alone. I’d do it a hundred times if I just got to have you, because — because—”

“Aw, Lloyd,” Cole says, and he wraps him in a full hug this time. “It doesn’t work like that. You don’t need to be the Green Ninja to have us. You’d still have us if you weren’t. You’d still have us if you were just some bratty little kid we yanked from the street. You’d still have us if you only had one limb left and couldn’t even hold a sword, you’d still—”

“I get it,” Lloyd giggles wetly into Cole’s elbow.

Cole shakes his head, and squeezes Lloyd tightly. “And we’re not planning on quitting anytime soon,” he continues, his voice turning serious, and a little too knowing. “So don’t go selling us short, and think we’d die on one shattered ship. We knew what we were getting into, kiddo. We’ve always known.”

Lloyd sucks in a sharp breath, his heart stuttering. A whole bunch of questions are bubbling up in his chest, but they don’t quite make it through his throat, because it’s closing up again, so he just clings back to Cole and tries not to let his eyes water too much. Oh. Lloyd didn’t even have to tell him. Cole already knew.

That’s Cole for you though, Lloyd guesses.

************************

Lloyd has every intention of talking to Sensei Wu. Really, he does — because for one thing, it's caused a painfully obvious rift in their team dynamic which could get them into serious trouble if another threat breaks out, and going by their track record, that could happen like, tomorrow. And for another, they’re all living in an incredibly cramped apartment right now, and while Lloyd is perfectly fine avoiding his uncle by parkouring around the house like an extreme game of the floor is lava, Nya’s probably getting sick of having to get him unstuck from the air vents, so — confrontation it is.

Except if Lloyd’s going to force himself through the agony of that, he’s going to get it all out of the way at once. Besides, he owes his team an explanation, anyways. Probably…several explanations. A whole lot of words, that’s for sure.

So Lloyd sucks it up, finishes cutting off the sleeve on the right side of his pre-Resistance gi so it actually fits, and for the first time since the guys got back, feels somewhat like a shadow of the leader he’s supposed to be as he calls a team meeting. This brief burst of confidence is thoroughly shot through by Nya, who immediately dubs it the “aha, I see it’s time we all talked our issues out” meeting, but — well, it’s not like she’s wrong.

Besides, they needed it. And in hindsight, Lloyd realizes he’s been worrying about all the wrong things.

“I can’t believe you cut your own arm off and didn’t even like, take the opportunity to make a hundred Star Wars jokes. You realize there’s no escaping the Luke Skywalker jokes now, right?”

“For the last time, Luke didn’t cut his own arm off. I’m way more hard core than he is.”

“Yeah, for a maniac. You’re both on full-time babysitting. We leave for five minutes and you go around losing limbs and breaking arms, huh.”

“I can’t believe we ever mourned your deaths.”

“I can’t believe you thought we were dead and didn’t say anything!”

“He’s right, the psychological trauma stemming from such events could be—”

“If any of you say traumatizing again, I’m using the taser feature on my arm.”

“I can’t believe Nya built that in for you.”

“I can’t believe you let Uncle Wu flirt with some random lady in the First Realm.”

“He wasn’t flirting with her, would you let that drop—”

“Alright, alright! Don’t worry, I’ve hit my limb-it. Heh, get it—”

He’s met with a chorus of groans at that, and Jay chucks a couch cushion at his head. But it brightens the already-lightening mood more, weary sort of grins replacing the solemn expressions that everyone’s been wearing through most of this conversation, so Lloyd counts it as a total success. Even if none of them appreciate real humor, he thinks to himself, miffed.

“Okay, real talk, though,” Cole finally speaks up over the rest of them, as their scattered conversation dies down. He meets Lloyd’s eyes. “If you want us to come with you when you talk with your uncle, we’ll be happy to, you know.”

A tight kind of knot forms in Lloyd’s throat. Your uncle, not Sensei. He’d never dream of asking them to pick a side, but—

“Yeah, we’ve all got your back,” Jay nods, miming a punch at the air, before making a face. “You have like, this really awful habit of going all ‘oh no, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault Sensei Wu, ignore everything I said even though it was super valid’—”

Lloyd chucks the couch cushion back at him. “I do not do that,” he scowls.

Nya cuts him a pointed look. “Yes, you do.”

Lloyd glares back. “Do not.”

“She’s right, you do,” Cole echoes.

“Kinda do, bud,” Kai sighs.

Lloyd looks to Zane, pleading. Zane just shakes his head, pityingly. Lloyd sighs. “No faith in me at all,” he says, forlornly.

“We’ve got total faith in you,” Cole says. “You just need to have faith in yourself.”

Lloyd groans, leaning back so he’s fully sprawled across the living room floor. “You sound like Sensei Wu’s lesson book.”

Nya pokes him in the ribs, and Lloyd jerks away, yelping. “Listen to him, Lloyd. Not that I’m against sudden passionate outbursts, but…healthy talks. We need to work on healthy talks.” Her voice wavers, and Lloyd glances up at her. She looks down, then holds her head up, taking a deep breath.

“Which is why, when this blows over, I’d — I’d like to talk about Nadakhan,” she announces, a little unsteadily, but determined. “For — for real, this time.” She gives Lloyd a shaky smile, and he beams back, trying not to look too shiny-eyed about it. Going by her expression, he’s failed, but she spares him the embarrassment and turns her attention elsewhere. “Jay?”

Jay’s shoulders almost go boneless, and an expression of what could be relief flashes across his face. “I’m down if you are,” he exhales.

“Wait, what exactly are we talking about with Nadakhan, here?” Cole says, suddenly wildly concerned. Lloyd feels a brief spark of victory, and not a small amount of vengefulness at the look on Nya’s face — it’s about time someone else is on the chopping black.

“Nothing,” Jay says, waving his arms. He blinks, then suddenly backtracks. “Wait, I mean — it’s definitely something, but, uh — Nya said later! So we’ll talk later, haha?”

“Jay—”

“Hey,” Kai catches him off to the side, as the others dissolve into bickering. His eyes are serious, but the dark circles aren’t quite as bad. Not as awful as they’ve been, which is the best Lloyd can ask for right now, he guesses. “You’ve got this, no problem,” Kai continues, under his breath so the others can’t hear. “But on the off chance you want out, at any point? All you gotta do is yell for me and I’ll swoop in for you and run, just give the word. We can always work this out another day.”

Lloyd bites his lip, looking down. “I need to talk to him, Kai. I can’t leave it like this forever.”

“Well, yeah,” Kai says, evenly. “Maybe not. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re still Master Lloyd to us. We’ll follow your lead.”

Oh, now he’s done it. Lloyd’s throat goes painfully tight, and his eyes burn as he struggles to swallow back anymore embarrassing displays. “K-kai, you—”

“Please tell me I didn’t make you cry again,” Kai says hurriedly.

Lloyd shakes his head, elbowing him lightly in the side. “I wasn’t gonna cry,” he huffs. “I was just gonna say that I—” Lloyd swallows again, and murmurs, “I really missed you, Kai.”

Then, realizing he sounds entirely too vulnerable right now, he clears his throat and gives Kai a shaky grin. “Especially since now I really need you as my right hand man—”

Kai swats the back of his head, scuffing his hair down. “Lloyd, you’re my brother and I love you, but if you make another horrible arm pun, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Please,” Lloyd snorts. “You didn’t bring me a dragon back. If anyone should be never forgiving anyone, it’s me.”

************************

Lloyd’s not one to let fear get the best of him — for very long — but nothing’s really rooted him to the floor in terror like the sight of his uncle’s closed door has. Well, besides maybe his undead father dangling him off the floor in Kryptarium, or the sight of the Bounty getting crushed to pieces, or the way Skylor had collapsed in his arms, or the sensation of twin points of pain on the back of his hand—

Okay, so maybe fear’s been a pretty big player in his life lately, but still. Lloyd doesn’t let fear win out over him. He shouldn’t let fear win out over him.

Fear isn’t a word where I come from, Lloyd’s mind echoes half-hysterically at him.

Absolutely none of this helps the way his hands tremble violently as he knocks on Sensei’s door.

“Come in.”

Sensei Wu’s voice is quiet and level, no revealing trace of emotion in it. Nausea wells up in Lloyd’s throat, but he swallows it down. Kai’s “all you gotta do is yell for me” lingers in Lloyd’s mind, but he shrugs the thought off. As tempting as it is — Kai snatching him up from this conversation entirely and saving Lloyd a lot of awkward stuttering — he can’t just take the easy way out. Cole’s right — Lloyd needs to face this eventually. Letting things fester never helped anyone.

Harumi drove that one home pretty well.

Sucking in a breath, Lloyd finally pushes the door open, cursing his shaking fingers as they clack on the doorknob. His courage — if he can even call it that — falters, and he keeps his gaze rooted to the ground like it’s the most riveting thing in the room. The familiar smell of incense wafts over him, and Lloyd struggles not to throw up again.

There’s a measured intake of breath, before Sensei Wu exhales quietly. “Lloyd.”

Again, there’s little to no emotion in his voice, just that infuriatingly calm serenity, which is no help at all, because Lloyd has zero clue whether he’s furious with him or just — just disappointed, or something worse. And he’s sure as heck not going to look at his expression to figure it out, because that will require meeting his eyes, and Lloyd would rather combust on the spot.

He’s already faced one family member’s eyes burning in hatred on him. If he has to see Uncle Wu, too — Uncle Wu, who Lloyd’s always thought believed in him from the beginning—

“Sit, please.”

Lloyd shakes his head. He can’t. He’s already losing the battle to nerves, he can’t just — pretend this is another master-student talk. He needs to get it over with now, before he goes to pieces again.

“I…” Lloyd swallows. His mouth is painfully dry, and he still can’t get his hand to stop shaking. The metal one is finally listening to him, at least. He finally forces out a shuddery exhale, then curves his spine into a bow, his head hung low.

“Sensei,” he says, almost proud that his voice only wavers the slightest bit. “I’ve come to apologize for my actions earlier. And my words, I — I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

Sensei Wu is silent. The air is so thick Lloyd almost struggles to breath, and a part of him faintly wonders if the incense hasn’t grown a mind of its own and is actively trying to suffocate him.

“I just — it hurt, when you went behind my back, and I know — I know I’m a mess.” The admission stings, but it’s true. It’s way too true, but that still doesn’t give him the right—

“And I’m trying,” Lloyd continues, his voice cracking in all the worst places. “I’m trying so hard, Sensei Wu, I am, but I can’t — you were gone, and I tried so hard to be the-the leader you would want, I really did, but things just — everything went so wrong, and I—”

Lloyd cuts off, swallowing back a sob. “But I didn’t meant it,” he croaks out. “When I said I hated—”

He doesn’t get to finish that, because he’s suddenly being dragged out of the bow by Sensei Wu, and pulled arms-first into a tight embrace before he even realizes what’s happening. Lloyd’s poor brain short-circuits in surprise, and all he can really do is hang there like a dead fish while Uncle Wu clings to him like he hasn’t since Lloyd was nine.

He might also be crying, maybe, but he’s also in dead-fish-mode, so who knows—

“No, Lloyd,” his uncle says, and there’s an edge of a sob in his words, just like the one Lloyd was choking back earlier. “I am sorry. I am so, so very sorry, not only for going behind your back, but for everything—”

He cuts off, inhaling sharply, and Lloyd stares blankly into his shoulder as his eyes decide to run like a leaky faucet. This is — this is not going according to plan. He’s not prepared for this, he was ready for Uncle Wu to yell at him, to be angry, not—

“And you have every right to be angry with me,” Uncle Wu continues, his hold on Lloyd loosening, but not letting go. “But I must — please, Lloyd, you must know it was never you that I doubted, it was me.”

He takes a ragged breath. “I failed your father, Lloyd,” he says, his voice wet. “I failed him, and I lost him. I failed Morro, and I lost him as well. I’ve failed you too, Lloyd, and I’ve almost lost you far too many times, because of my failures, but I still — I still have you, Lloyd. The idea of losing you, for good, because I was not there when you needed me most—”

Uncle Wu’s holding him tighter again, and his word are finally starting to make sense through the haze that’s fogged up Lloyd’s brain, just in time for him to hear the next part clearly.

“You’re my family, Lloyd,” Uncle Wu rasps, suddenly sounding very old. “And I don’t tell you this as often I should, but you should know how very proud of you I am, and the person you’ve become.”

Lloyd sucks in a shuddering breath, his eyes welling over. Oh. His fingers fist into the fabric of his uncle’s robe, tentatively clutching back.

“You should also know,” Uncle Wu says, his voice wet but steady. “How very much I love you, regardless of what title you choose to bear. You will always be my nephew, no matter what color you wear.”

Oh. Oh, no, here he goes again. Lloyd clutches back tighter, drops his head onto his uncle’s shoulder, and tries very hard not to cry like a total baby.

He’s about five percent successful.

The scent of incense isn’t so suffocating anymore, even if Lloyd can’t breathe through his nose for crying right now. It smells a little more like he remembers, when he was younger.

Like home.

************************

“It can be very hard,” Uncle Wu tells him later, over the light tea he’s made them both. “To love the people in this family.”

“But you do,” Lloyd voices, watching him hesitantly.

“But I do.” Uncle Wu gives a wry breath of laughter. “Not as well as you do, though.”

Lloyd ducks his head, staring into his tea. “I don’t think it helped very much,” he whispers. “Not with…with my father.”

Uncle Wu’s hand is gentle where it rests on his shoulder.

“You have a big heart, Lloyd,” he says, his voice sad. “And that means there is only that much more to break.” He shakes his hand, and Lloyd sways the tiniest bit back and forth. “That does not mean you are any weaker for it, nor that you are wrong.”

Lloyd gives a snort that is definitely not an attempt to hide welling tears again. “Tell that to my father.”

“You should tell him yourself, if you want.”

Lloyd jerks his head up, his eyes widening. “Then…does that mean I’m off the blacklist?” he asks, tentatively. “For the prison?”

Uncle Wu sighs. “If you are certain it will not break your heart anymore,” he says. “Then you may go whenever you wish. I have already removed the block, but…I would ask that you be sure. For your sake, Lloyd.”

Lloyd stares at his hands, the metal one glinting in the dim lamplight. He thinks of cruel words echoing against prison walls, of how his heart had splintered into pieces long before his father had thrown him through that last prison wall, or he’d taken a sword to his own arm. He thinks of the TV broadcasts that Nya and Jay will never be able to wipe completely from the web, no matter how hard they try. He thinks of how his father will never know the pain of his heart splitting into pieces, certainly not for Lloyd, because it’ll never be the same heart Lloyd knew once.

And yet…

One of them is sitting in a cold cell, and one of them is drinking tea with their uncle, with the people they love most a mere room away (or right outside the door, Lloyd’s overbearing-sibling-radar has been acting up).

Lloyd shakes his head. “I don’t break,” he says, firmly.

He won’t. Not this time. Because his father — his real father, the father he loves, who he’d promised he’d live for, even in the depths of the Cursed Realm—

“I’m a Garmadon,” Lloyd says, his voice steady. “I don’t break.”

Uncle Wu is entirely unsuccessful at hiding the teary sort of smile he’s making in his teacup, but Lloyd will give him credit for trying.

************************

It’s easier walking into the prison again, the second time.

Is what Lloyd is going to say, when the others ask him how it went when he gets back. The reality is that Lloyd is every bit as mind-numbingly terrified walking through these stupid doors as he was the first time. Except this time might even be worse, actually, because he misses a step on the way in and almost trips flat on his face, which totally ruins the badass power walk he was trying to do.

It’s not like he’ll ever be able to stride around like his father, anyways, Lloyd thinks dully, even as his face burns. Not when Garmadon’s got about four entire feet and the malevolent energy of Darth Vader on him.

Lloyd spends the next three minutes cursing himself for giving in to the Star Wars references, enough that he almost forgets the growing sense of anxiety writhing in his gut as he hurries through the prison. He doesn’t spare the walls a second glance this time, making a beeline directly for the isolation cell.

He holds his breath, just a tiny bit, as the guard scans him in. He’s almost surprised as he immediately waves him through, but forces himself to shake it off.

He’s not going to walk out of this with crippling trust issues all around. He’s not. Uncle Wu said he’d told them Lloyd could go, so Lloyd trusts him. And Uncle Wu is trusting him not to break down over this, so Lloyd isn’t going to. He’s just gonna have a…a nice little chat, with his father, that’s all. Maybe ask about the impending doomsday stuff he was muttering about, and make sure he isn’t planning to break out. Definitely not going to bring up anything related to Lloyd’s emotional state, that’s for sure.

It’s going to be just fine, Lloyd assures himself, even as his metal fingers twitch, the occasional static of green buzzing between the joints. He needs to keep an eye on that. Nya’s started getting him to run actual tests on it, so he knows the green power works fine with his arm, but still.

It’s the fight that fuels his father, and Lloyd hasn’t needed a lot of encouragement to go off on someone lately.

He shoves those thoughts back as the guard takes him deeper into the prison, the hallways growing darker and narrow. Lloyd has to swallow back a growing sense of claustrophobia the farther they go, his skin crawling as unbidden memories of the fight flicker in the back of his mind.

His hands ball into fists. You’re fine, he tells himself again. This is different. It’s fine.

His power buzzes in the back of his head, as if attempting to voice that it disagrees. Lloyd studiously ignores it, because the guard’s letting him in now, and he’s got a lot more problems to worry about.

Or just one big one, he thinks faintly, staring at his father where he’s illuminated in the middle of the dark room, sitting calmly in his cell as he stares at the ceiling.

For a beat, Lloyd’s rooted to the spot — half from a dizzying sense of nausea, half because he can’t find the walkway they’ve built.

…mostly because he can’t find the walkway they’ve built. Lloyd spends an embarrassing ten seconds thinking that Garmadon’s cell is just floating there, and he’s going to have to holler this conversation back and forth across the dark expanse, before his eyes finally catch on the dim-lit walkway.

No railings, Lloyd notes, and half of him wonders how funny it’d be if, after everything, he accidentally slipped and fell on the way to visit his imprisoned father, and that’s what did him in. It’d be a real spite to Harumi, that’s what—

“I was wondering when you’d come to visit.”

Lloyd swallows at the voice, and forces himself to meet the crimson eyes staring at him, so much like his own.

“Father,” he says in greeting, as tonelessly as possible.

Garmadon scoffs, but he says nothing to refute him. The tiniest embers of hope light in Lloyd’s chest, before he violently smothers them. He’s not here to get hurt again.

His father’s eyes are moving down now, coming to a halt on Lloyd’s prosthetic. Lloyd shifts uncomfortably with the urge to hide it from view, forcing himself to stand steady.

“I never did like snakes,” Garmadon finally says, his voice even, then returns to staring at the ceiling.

Lloyd blinks. That’s it? That’s it. Lloyd’s lost an entire arm and — yeah, Garmadon already got a face-first introduction to the prosthetic back on Borg Tower, but he’d — he’d thought —

Lloyd doesn’t know what he’d thought, actually. He doesn’t have any footing with his father, anymore. He doesn’t know this person like he used to know the father who loved him.

“You said something to me, back on the tower,” Lloyd says, rallying himself. “About how they were coming. I wanted to ask you what you were talking about.”

Garmadon tilts his head, regarding him through slitted eyes. “Why don’t you ask your dear uncle?” he says, derisively. “I’m sure there’s plenty more he knows that he hasn’t told you.”

“Sensei Wu tells me enough,” Lloyd says, flatly. “If something’s coming, he’ll make sure we’re ready.”

“If you are the best he can offer, then you’re already doomed,” Garmadon scoffs.

Lloyd grits his teeth. “And yet,” he says, with forced calm. “I still beat you.”

“Watch yourself, boy,” Garmadon snarls, his teeth glinting. “You won on a technicality. Don’t be so quick to forget how easily I broke you before."

Pitching himself off the walkway is sounding like a better option by the second, which means Lloyd should probably get out of here soon.

“This threat,” he forces out, yanking them back on track. “You keep talking about. Want to share any more on that?”

Garmadon rolls his eyes. “The danger I spoke of has yet to pass,” he says, unconcerned. “I wouldn’t let it worry you and your pathetic friends’ little heads so soon. Like I said, I doubt you could handle it.”

Lloyd stares at him, incredulous. “So what, you’re just going to sit around until it’s here? And do nothing? That’s just going to make — make whatever it is worse.”

Garmadon snorts, his laugh caustic and bitter, but offers nothing else.

Lloyd’s lip curls. “Forget it, then,” he snaps. “If you’re not going to talk about anything useful, I’m not wasting my time on you. I can always come back.”

He means to storm off after that, but his feet falter, and he hesitates. He stares at his father, this hollowed-out version of him slumped in defeat in a prison cell. Something in his chest twists.

This is never what he wanted. He never wanted any of this. Is this what destiny does to them all, then? Chains them to each other until they’ve all brought each other down to their lowest point? Destroys everything thats good about them until there’s nothing but an empty shell left?

The edge of the walkway looms on either side of him, dropping into suffocating darkness. Lloyd balls his hands into fists, and remembers the crushing hopelessness he’d felt as Harumi had laughed at him on the train. It feels a lot like his grandfather’s laughing at him now, watching their stupid family drama play out like the worst kind of tragic soap opera.

Lloyd’s fists tighten. No, he tells himself. No. That’s not what destiny will do to him.  

He’s the one that got away, isn’t he?

Garmadon finally seems to lose patience, his eyes flashing as he stands. “If you’re still here to gloat, boy—”

“I’m my own person, you know,” Lloyd speaks over him, cutting his father off. “I’ve got more than just you. I’m not just some fragment of your broken legacy.”

Garmadon stares back in surprise, but he says nothing.

“But I’m still your son, no matter what you say,” Lloyd continues, his voice steady. “And I’m keeping your name. So deal with it, or whatever.”

And with that, he turns around and paces steadily from the cell, back into the light. He doesn’t look back, not even once.

He can come back later, anyways. But right now, he’s gonna be late for practice.

************************

“—left, he’s on your left, Jay, are you blind?!”

“He’s fast! I don’t see you catching him!”

“That’s ‘cause you’re supposed to be guarding the left, we’re cornering him!”

“On the contrary, you are leaving your right side wide open for me. By my calculations, neither of you will ever corner me.”

“Oh, I’ll show you, tin can—”

Lloyd gives a breathless giggle as he listens in, confident in Zane’s ability to distract Cole and Jay for now. Nya’s still a possible threat, unless she’s going after their flag right now, but Lloyd’s pretty secure in the hiding place they’d picked.

“Head in the game, green machine!”

Lloyd shakes his head, jerking himself back the present at Kai’s whispered hiss. He wobbles precariously from where he’s standing on Kai’s shoulders, throwing his arms out for balance. He glares up at where Cole’s managed to hang their flag, dangling cheerfully from the tree branch far above the ground.

“Give me a sec,” Lloyd hisses back, right arm straining as his fingertips brush the air just below the flag. He scowls, biting back a curse.

“Do not tell me you’re too short to reach,” Kai whispers, before wavering a bit and tightening his hold around Lloyd’s ankles.

Lloyd scowls down at him. “I’m not,” he grumbles. “Just hold on.”

Kai makes an anxious sound. “Lloyd, Nya’s gonna catch on to us any second—”

“Hold on, hold on,” Lloyd mutters, reaching for the prosthetic port. With a click, he detaches the arm and steadies it in his other hand, then hoists it up and neatly catches the edge of their flag with it, knocking it into Kai’s waiting hands.

“Nice!” Kai crows in victory — only to turn to a yelp as Nya comes barreling around the corner, her expression borderline terrifying.

“You’re supposed to be watching our flag!” she roars at Cole and Jay, before diving for them. Lloyd shrieks as Kai launches him from his shoulders, giving a desperate cry of “Run, Lloyd!”

Lloyd flails wildly before managing to hit the ground in a roll, somersaulting once before scrambling to his feet. He spares a moment of memoriam for Kai as Jay tackles him, before being forced to break into a dead sprint as Nya comes in hot on his heels.

“Go, Lloyd!” Zane calls, from where he’s tussling with Cole. “They haven’t found our flag, we can win!”

“Not if I catch him,” Nya hisses, the hair on Lloyd’s neck standing up at how close she is. He puts on a burst of speed, streaking across the grassy field toward their base. Nya’s a blur in the back of his vision as he turns his head, but he might be able to outrun her if—

Lloyd yelps as he’s jerked backwards. “Gotcha!” Nya yells triumphantly as she locks a hand around Lloyd’s right wrist, firmly holding him back.

Lloyd doesn’t hesitate. Shoving the edge of the flag between his teeth, he reaches up and disconnects the prosthetic, shooting forward as Nya’s left stumbling, holding his arm.

“Lloyd Garmadon!” she cries indignantly. “That’s cheating!”

Lloyd cackles wildly as he runs, wavering a bit at he’s thrown off-balance from being one-armed, before quickly adjusting to the weight change and sprinting faster. Nya’s started chasing him again, but it’s too late — she’s lost valuable time, and Lloyd skids over their base line with a whoop.

Kai and Zane burst into cheers as Cole curses, finally letting Zane free from his grasp. Nya slides to a halt beside him where he’s doubled over panting, breathing heavily herself. She’s glaring at him through the sweaty hair that’s hanging in her face, and Lloyd gives her a sunny smile in return.

“You’re a dirty cheater,” she finally huffs.

“No rules in capture the flag against taking your arm off,” he replies, cheerily.

Nya rolls her eyes, but there’s a pull at the edge of her mouth like she’s trying not to smile as she thrusts his prosthetic at him.

“I don’t appreciate you treating my creation like that,” she sniffs.

“Aw, c’mon,” Kai grins, having caught up with them. “That was classic.”

“Yeah, if you’re a cheater,” Jay scowls. “I vote a rematch.”

“What, so you can lose a fifth time?”

“It has not been five times—”

“Yes it has, Zane’s been keeping count.”

“Zane’s a dirty cheater too!”

“How dare you—”

Lloyd snickers as they dissolve into arguing, carefully clicking his arm back into place. There’s still a flicker of pain as he does, but it’s getting easier. It’ll take time, he figures, just like everything else. You can’t fix all your problems in a day, no matter what Uncle Wu’s said before.

But for now, he can play dumb training games with his team. He can forget about whatever threat on the horizon, if only for a moment. Uncle Wu can amend his stance on what counts as training, because this is Lloyd’s turn to lead practice, and if he wants to play capture the flag, then that’s his call. And he can cheat with his arm if he wants to, because the universe can take his arm from him, but it’s not gonna take his ability to be a terrible little brother.

And it’s not going to take the fact that he’s Lloyd Garmadon, either, Lloyd thinks, as he straightens, his arm swinging into place. No one is. Not Harumi, not his own father, not an entire legal team from child protection services like Cole keeps joking (threatening) to call. Lloyd Garmadon is his name, and he’s keeping it.

...arguments could be made, though, for changing it to Lloyd Arm-Is-Gone.

“Lloyd, no.”

“That was awful.”

“You guys just have no taste!”

“We have plenty of taste, but the puns—”

“It’s my missing limb, I choose the coping mechanism.”

“You wanna miss another one, punk?”

“I’d like to see you try. At least I have an excuse for losing capture the flag. Oh wait, we won.”

“Oh, you’re on. Same teams as last time, you better watch your back—”

—yeah. They might not be perfectly fine just yet, but they’re going to be. And no one can take that from them, either.

[hvitserkmarcosource]

The Arrangement

Chapter Eight - Lioness

Warnings: Angst in the beginning, Fluff at the end (Warnings will be updated with each chapter, so make sure you read them!)

Chapter Eight Summary: Hvitserk makes a life changing promise.

Word count: 2,314

Thank you for all of your love and support 🥰

Chapter Seven

Chapter Nine - Coming Soon

................................................

The castle lay like an old man on the hill, the sunlight shone on his, once beautiful, cracked face. Moss clung in the shade of the ancient walls like a scraggly beard. The once proud turrets had crumbled in places giving the impression of battle worn armour. The only part of the castle that was well kept are his doors, still the richest of reds, like a fresh wound seeping blood.

Hvitserk laughs from behind you “Now I understand the red cloak”

You smile and turn to look at him. “It was my Mother’s favorite, Father honored her by making it the Kingdom's color.”

“That is romantic” he observes “What is your favorite?”

You shake your head “I’m not sure, no one has ever asked me”

His arms wrap around you “Then I will keep asking until you choose one”

Your heart starts to race and a pink tint graces your cheeks. Hvitserk can be quite charming when he wants to be. And in this moment you decide that he will inevitably be the death of you.

As the boat draws near your fathers men draw their bows and swords, no doubt thinking you a threat. Until one of them spots you and yells for the rest to let the boat pass.

“Remind me the next time we raid England to wear red-“

You playfully nudge his shoulder, cutting off his sentence.

“What?!” He says in self defense “they just let us through, it’s so much easier than fighting in the water and much less wet.”

“But now you have me, there is no need to raid England when it is half yours. Why would you steal from your own Kingdom?” The question was rhetorical, but you can tell it made him think. Marrying the princess must not have sunken in yet.

If something were to ever happen to your father Hvitserk would be made King and you Queen, your children would be the heirs of this great Kingdom. Your bloodline would rule for a lifetime and never have to raid or plunder another place ever again. War will be over between Scandanivia and England, there will finally be peace.

“The King awaits you Princess, he is in the throne room.” A knight you do not recognize reaches out his hand and helps you off of the boat. “The Pagans will have to remain outside of the walls. Per the King’s wishes”

Hvitserk begins to follow you off of the boat, but the Knight stops him “All of the Pagans must remain outside of the walls.”

You scoff “This is my future husband, Prince Hvitserk, he will not wait outside.”

The Knight looks at you and says timidly “M’lady the King gave strict orders. Only you are allowed inside of the Castle.”

Hvitserk begins to reach for his sword but you stop him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I will speak to my father, he is a difficult man but he will listen to me… you won’t have to wait for long.”

Hvitserk groans in frustration “I don’t like you going in there by yourself”

You smile “This is my home, I will be alright. Please don’t start a war while I’m gone.”

He nods “If you aren’t back by nightfall I will come in after you.”

An ounce of bravery floods through your veins and you do something you wouldn’t normally do, standing on your tiptoes you lean in and kiss his cheek ”It's a deal. I will see you soon.”

When you pull away there is a smirk on his face and you blush, perhaps you’ve made a tiny mistake…

................................................

The king stumbled from his throne and collapsed in front of you, gripping the bottom of your cloak so tight it felt as if it might tear in two. He was a wreck, tears streaming down his wrinkled face. The crown on top of his head tilted and unpolished. No one was allowed in the room with you, not even his counsel. The two of you were alone and now you understand why. Your father didn’t want anyone to see him fall apart.

You kneel with him and take his hand in yours, for the first time you realize just how old he truly is. Frail. “What is it father? Why are you feeling so much sorrow?”

He sniffles and looks up at you “I’ve lost it… all the gold, the stones, your mother's rubies. All of it is gone!”

Your heart drops and you begin to panic “What do you mean you lost it? How could you lose that much, we need it for our people” you drop his hands forcefully and stand up. After everything he’s put you through and he just loses it? You can’t believe it.

He sobs harder “My child we must find a solution-“

“This was the solution! I was the solution! Or do you not remember selling me to the highest bidder!?”

He does not say anything at your outburst, so you continue.

“Do you have any idea what I've had to go through?! What I’ve done! All because you were greedy and selfish! Now you’re telling me you’ve lost it, how? HOW DO YOU LOSE ALL OF THAT!?”

Your father looks up at you, tears in his eyes, and mouth agape.

“Explain yourself father before I walk out of this castle and tell Hvitserk what is happening, I am sure King Ivar would not like that you’ve lost all of his gold so quickly.” You seethe. Disgusted at the man before you and his stupidity.

He clears his throat and stands, taking a deep breath before he says “A dragon egg”

You can’t believe your ears, how could anyone believe what he just said. “A dragon egg?” you repeat

“A man came to me and offered three of them for a price. At first I thought him mad, and then I saw them. My girl, they were giant and colorful. The colors of precious stones, but even more beautiful.. I held them in my arms and could not stop thinking about them. I was hypnotized.”

Scoffing, you sit down on his throne and gesture for him to continue. Your mind so full of worry you aren’t sure if your legs or voice will continue to support you.

“I gave him everything… all of it, every cent, gem, and stone. I needed those dragons- we needed them, the kingdom-“

“WHAT THE KINGDOM NEEDS IS A RULER WHO DOESN'T SPEND THEIR GOLD ON FAIRY TALES!!” You take a deep breath, trying desperately to calm down. He’s still your father after all. “What the Kingdom needs is protection from people like Ivar Lothbrok and now you’ve taken that away from them. You’ve striped them of any security. How could you do that, when they have supported you through everything?”

He looks at you, confusion scanning his face. And then you’ve realized you’ve made a mistake. You spoke about Ivar.

“I may belong to Hvitserk but Ivar is ruthless. He does not care about his brother or me and will come for our Kingdom the first chance he gets. You’ve just given him a reason to come sooner.”

“There is no reason to start a war with me, Ivar and I got along quite well when we were discussing you.”

you laugh “Yes, Ivar was kind to me as well in the beginning. But it was only a show, believe me when I tell you all the stories about Ivar Lothbrok are true.”

A chill runs through the air, goose flesh creeps up on your arms, and the hair at the back of your neck stands on end. Suddenly you feel like you’re being watched. “I will speak with Hvitserk, he is smart and knows his brother best. If he does not have a solution I fear no one will… I have one more question, father.”

He nods “Yes of course, what is it you want to know?”

“What happened to the dragon eggs?”

Once more he hangs his head “It was all a lie. An egg shattered one day, it had fallen and hit the floor. I was expecting to find a body but nothing was inside. It was completely empty. The other two were the same.”

You walk away without saying another word to your father. Feeling betrayed and angry. Angry that he could be so foolish to believe in such things as dragons. Betrayed that he spent all the gold Ivar had given him in return for you… Sick that now your father will have no means to pay an army when Ivar comes for him.

................................................

When the castle begins to fill with Vikings you start to feel uneasy. You are comfortable with Hvitserk but you don’t know these men, more importantly you don’t know their motives for wanting to come along. If what Hvitserk said is true, all of these men could be doing Ivar‘s bidding. They could be scoping out the castle for Ivar, seeing if the information you gave him was the truth.

All of a sudden you get the urge to run, run away from all of this, leave everything behind and start new. Some place where no one knows who you are and can’t force you to betray anyone. A place that is beautiful and not in the midst of war.

Somewhere far away from Vikings and Kings, gold and greed. A place that hasn’t been touched by the foul hands of power hungry men and their ambitions.

But does a place like that really exist? Or is it just another fairytale?

A hand grabs yours and you wonder if the man it belongs to also shares you dreams of a better place. Or is he just like all the rest? Would you grow old with him and watch in silence as he destroys Kingdoms and tears apart families, like your mother watched your father do so many years ago? Would you become numb to all of his crimes?

You hope not.

You hope he shares your need to make this Kingdom a better place. You hope he grows old and happy with you and your children. You hope to tell your grandchildren about the Viking who married a Princess and together they made England a place of sanctuary and peace.

Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Hvitserk pulls you closer and whispers in your ear “What is wrong Princess? You are awfully quiet.”

You sigh and look up at him. “I was only thinking”

He chuckles “Then I am sorry for the interruption, it looked like a wonderful thought.”

“It was, but do not apologize. I find when I talk to you my thoughts only get happier.”

He smiles “I hope you always feel that way.”

You look away from him then, searching the room for your father. When you find him he is face down in a mug of ale, screaming and carrying on like he didn’t just condemn his entire Kingdom to death.

Pointing at your father you whisper to Hvitserk “Do you see my father? He has lost everything, he has destroyed this Kingdom and the people in it. And he celebrates like nothing is wrong, that is because he doesn’t care. So long as he weasels his way into another deal with Ivar, as long as it is favorable to him. Painting my father as the hero, he will be happy. So long as he still has power and that power has the possibility to grow he will be happy. No matter who it crushes in its path…”

You look at Hvitserk then and say aloud “I will always feel happiness when I think of you, for as long as I have breath in my lungs, you will always make me smile. But you must promise me something.”

He nods

“Do not become like him, do not forget about peace and honor. Do not toss aside our people for gold. Please treat them with kindness and help those who are in desperate need. Help me make this a better place.”

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wedding band. “This ring is very special to me, much like the necklace you wore on our first meeting. I do not take my promises lightly, I want you to know that, and I swear on this ring and my arm ring to never be like that man.” He places the ring on your finger and continues “I promise to love and honor you, and your wishes. I promise to protect your people as well as my own and do so with dignity and selflessness. I promise to always make your thoughts of me be filled with laughter and joy. I promise to help you fulfill your dreams for your Kingdom… But most importantly, I promise to be your husband, the father of your children, and the man you wish me to be for as long as you wish me to be. For every passing moment I spend with you I realize I am falling more in love and I do not want to waste more time in not telling you.”

A tear falls from your eye but for the first time in a long time it is not out of sadness. It’s out of love.

“Will you promise to love me Princess? A savage, worthless Viking that does not deserve anyone, let alone a woman like you.”

You nod and let a sob escape, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into an embrace “You are worthy. I do promise, I promise to always love you and stand by your side.”

He rests his head in the crook of your neck and lets out a breath. Saying the three words you never thought you’d hear him say “I love you”

Tag list: @alexhogh7137 @ivarthebloodyking @sfyri @curlyhairedhoseok @mavalenovaninagavi @lol-haha-joke @joebob15274 @itsharleyalb @motherofkattegat @kaitieskidmore1

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 24

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.3k - 4.5k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: idk what to say tbh, not even sure ppl read these notes lol. well, i hope it was an okay chapter?

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : one but i sort of changed it a bit!

Chapter 24 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

We fell asleep together in his bed but I woke up in the middle of the night and stared at him for god knows how long. I didn't want to tell him what I did for many reasons, but mostly because I didn't want him to feel guilty. It was not his fault, he had every right to break up with me if he was not feeling the relationship anymore, and i'm the one who had swallowed those pills. Niall was not to blame and I knew it, but I was scared he'd feel bad if he found out. To imagine being weak like that in front of him was also not something I wanted. I was not really ready to let anyone see me that weak, but I was glad Louis had found me on that night. I was glad I was still there, because it made me realize I had a problem and I was lucky enough to have someone to help me with it.

I brought my hand to Niall's cheek and ran my fingertips on it gently, making him groan low. God I loved him. Just looking at him made me want to throw everything away and give myself to him, but I knew it was a pattern I couldn't fall back into and I had to be careful. Of course I had changed, and I had matured, and learned to love myself the way I was. I had worked on myself to trust me, and trust that I was worthy of love, even Niall's, and that my body didn't define me... but all of this didn't mean that I  didn't question myself sometimes. It didn't mean that I couldn't doubt myself, or that it was easy to resist throwing myself into Niall's arms. I loved him like I have never loved anyone in my life. Did I ever love anyone else in my life?

It took me a while to fall back asleep but when I finally woke up for the second time, I kept my eyes closed and whimpered, reaching out to touch him until I realized he was not in bed with my anymore. I grimaced, my eyes still closed, and forced myself to sit up. It smelled like coffee and I smiled, stretching and opening my eyes before putting sweatpants and his t-shirt on, going to the bathroom and then walking to the kitchen. Niall was there, facing the counter as he was pouring coffee in two mugs and he glanced at me, sending me a smile.

"'Morning, how did you sleep?"

The sound of his voice made my lips curl and I walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and leaning my cheek on his back.

"You weren't there when I woke up." I replied with a pout that he couldn't see.

He laughed. "I'm right here!"

I hugged him tighter and when I loosened my embrace, he pushed the air out of his lungs and laughed again, turning to me and leaning his ass against the counter. My hands reached for the front of his shirt and I got on my tiptoe to reach for his lips. He tasted like coffee and I smiled against his mouth.

"You're on your second cup?" I asked, making him smile more.

"Yea you slept a lot." he pointed out before pressing his lips against mine again. "You seemed tired, I didn't want to wake you up."

I looked into his eyes and a fond smile appeared on my lips. I couldn't tell him I was tired because I spent over an hour staring at him in the middle of the night, could I?

"About last night, I want to thank you for sharing that with me." he said, glancing down before looking right in my eyes. "Thank you for trusting me. I'm so sorry I made you feel like that. I'm so sorry. I knew I had hurt you, but I never thought you were so... sad after I left. I never thought me dating someone else would hurt you that much."

"It wasn't you fault." I replied after breathing it. "It was me. It was my pain, my insecurities. It was my problem and my decision to do that. A bad and wrong one, a decision I'll never make again, but it was no one's fault but mine. You could date whoever you wanted, Niall. You didn't owe me anything."

"I'm still sorry. I'll always take part of the blame for that. But you promised you would never do that anymore, remember?" he added, raising his eyebrows. I just nodded with a soft smile and he smiled back. "Good, just a reminder."

We just looked at each other with loving smiles for a while and I felt something in my stomach. I was not sure if it was love, lust or affection... or maybe all of those feelings at the same time. All I knew was that they were all directed at him.

I felt the fingers of one of his hands run in my hair and smiled more, letting my hands run down his chest as I kept staring in his eyes. I always felt the need to be close to him and touch him and when one of my hands reached his dick, he groaned low and the grip in my hair tightened.

"Don't be a tease, petal." he whispered, making me bite my bottom lip hard.

"I'm always too horny to be a tease, you're the tease."

He chuckled and he pulled gently on his hand, making my head tilt back a bit more as my hand kept stroking his cock slowly over his sweatpants.

"I just think it's been way too long since I put your cock in my mouth, what do you think?" I whispered, sending him an amused smile. "Let me get on my knees for you."

His smile faltered and his eyes roamed on my face for a few seconds before he let go of my hair, his arm falling on his side. Quickly, I took my shirt off and his eyes fell on my breasts, making me hold my breath. It was not my best feature but the way he stared at them avidly made my heart jump in my chest. I let my shirt fall on the floor and got down on it, trying to save the pain on my knees that the cold hard floor could give me. I kept my gaze locked with his again for a few seconds and then looked away, trying to focus on his cock. I pulled his pants and boxers down, feeling my pussy throb at the sight of how hard he was but something else caught my attention. Something was not like it used to be and it had nothing to do with his dick. I frowned but my lips parted and I had to blink a few times to understand what exactly was written.

"Oh my god." I whispered, bringing a finger to it and brushing the tip of it on his skin. "Did you get a fucking tattoo?"

I glanced up and he was looking down at me with a frown. I opened my eyes wide and he grimaced, letting out a low groan.

"Darling, please, can't you see how fucking hard I am?" he pointed out. "You were about to do something?"

"I'm sorry but I can't do anything before I get an explanation.." I admitted with a nervous chuckle. "That's literally my name there?"

"I was drunk, found an old letter you wrote me, decided to get your name tattooed just like you tattooed mine." he explained quickly with a shrug. "Now your mouth? Please?"

My smile grew and I licked my lips. "Why this spot?"

"It was the only spot I could think of that wouldn't be visible for anyone, or almost."

"You... you hate tattoos." I just replied, shaking my head.

"I do not hate tattoos, I just never wanted to get one. I didn't see the appeal. And I still don't." he admitted, staring down at me. "But it's your name, and it's you, and I love you. I don't regret it, and I think it's just.. fair."

I pressed my lips together and swallowed hard, tilting my head. "What a guy wouldn't say to get his cock sucked."

"I mean it, Olivia."

I felt my heart jump in my chest and my gaze moved back to the tattoo on his skin. It was not even swollen anymore but even if it was small, I couldn't pretend it didn't make me feel special.

"Seriously, Nee, I can't see my name written near your cock every single time I give you a blowjob!" I chuckled, half-joking.

"Well, get used to it!"

I laughed a bit louder before realizing he was still just as hard despite the whole discussion we just had and quickly, I brought my mouth closer, running my tongue on his length gently and reaching the base before moving it down to his balls. I heard him groan as I sucked on one and when I moved back to the tip of his cock, I looked up only to see his head had fallen back slightly. He was holding himself with both hands on the counter and I just wrapped my lips on his tip to suck on it. His fingers gripped the counter harder and I grabbed his dick in my hand, pushing his skin and running my tongue between it and his tip. One of his legs tensed and he let out a few curse words in a whisper.

"Don't stop petal." he murmured as I kept doing that for a minute or two before taking him completely in my mouth. "Fuck, I want to cum in your mouth so bad."

He pushed his hips in motion with my head movements and just hearing him groan was making me horny. I kept thinking about the last time we fucked in his kitchen and it made me moan low as I was still sucking him hard. I finally moved away to bring my lips back around one of his balls as I kept stroking his cock harder and when he whispered 'I'm gonna cum', I moved back and stuck my tongue out. He looked down at me and I stared back, making sure the tip of his cock was brushing on my tongue as I jerked him off. It only took a few seconds and when a grunt escaped his lips, my heart jumped in my chest. He came on my tongue and lips, some of his cum also ending on one of my cheeks, and it made me realize how much I had missed pleasuring him.

"Jesus Christ." he whispered, his eyes shut tight. I took him in my mouth again, sucking him gently and slowly as I saw his grip loosen on the counter and his eyes open again. His lips curled into a smirk and he licked his lips. "Oh you look so good like that."

He bent down slightly and gathered the cum on my cheek before bringing it to my lips. I sucked on his finger as he stared at me and when he moved his upper body up again, I got closer and my eyes fell on his tattoo again. Slowly, I brushed my thumb on it and without thinking, I pressed my lips on his skin before getting up. He sent me a fond smile and chuckled as he moved his pants up.

"Did you just kiss my tattoo?"

"I did." I whispered, pressing my lips together.

He bent down and kissed me gently, cupping my face and slipping his tongue in my mouth. It always made me smile how he didn't care that I had his cum in my mouth just a few seconds before, and that he would kiss me anyway without even a second of hesitation.

"I haven't had a blowjob like that in..." he stopped himself and raised his eyebrows before chuckling low. "In over a year."

"Was it worth the wait?" I asked with an amused smile as he grimaced.

"Yes, but please don't make me wait an other year for the next one, okay?"

I laughed and shook my head as he moved his hands around my waist.

"You can always ask." I pointed out with a shrug. "Or, you can grab me by the hair and force me down on your cock."

The way he looked at me with lust made my heart skip a beat and he turned us around so I was leaned against the counter. He didn't say anything, he just slipped his hand in my pants and reached between my legs. He took one and held it up on his hip as I felt his fingers slip inside me.

"That made you so wet, fuck i love that." he admitted low, making my eyes flutter. "I love how much it turns you on to please me."

He started finger fucking me quickly, curling his fingers inside me and I used all my strength to keep my eyes open We looked at each other as he rubbed two of his fingertips on my clit and I held my breath as my lips parted.

"You're gonna cum, yea? I can hear how wet you are." he whispered, bringing his lips closer and brushing them against mine. "Cum darling, cum for me."

I felt an orgasm reach me and my whole body tensed as he moved closer to me, pressing his body on mine, one of his hands still holding my leg and the fingers of the other rubbing my clit as I shook against him. He moved his face in my neck and dug his teeth in my skin, making me quiver even more against him. He kept flicking his fingers on my clit slowly and gently as I came down from my high and brought his lips on mine to kiss me again.

"Next time I'm gonna spend an hour between your legs." he whispered. "I promise."

I smiled and tilted my chin. "You better."

We kept hugging and kissing for a while and I thought about the two mugs waiting for us on the counter before groaning. He moved away and frowned as I raised my nose.

"Now coffee's cold and I have bad news for you."

He frowned too and I bent down to grab my shirt and put it back on. I turned to the coffee pot and decided make fresh coffee before emptying our mugs in the sink. When I turned around, Niall was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and staring at me.

"I have to go back home and pack." I started, making his lips part. "I have a flight for Italy tonight and nothing's ready. I'll be gone for a few days."

"Italy?"

"Yea we're supposed to cast an Italian girl for season 3 and they asked me to go. We have an interview there too and... well, I'm also going to see Dylan."

His face changed and I held my breath, feeling my heart beating hard against my rib cage as I waited for him to say something, anything, that would tell me how he felt. I could read in his face that he was not pleased but I didn't know if it was anger and pain.

"You know what I realized when Heidi sent me that picture of you in a wedding dress?" he asked, making me frown. "I mean, not at first, I was too shocked by how stunning you looked but after an hour or so, it really hit me. It's not you? The big dress, the flowers, the music and thousands of guests with a big wedding cake and your vows in front of everyone?" he paused as I stared at him. "What happened to eloping to Vegas and getting married by Elvis?"

I licked my lips and sighed, tilting my head on the side.

"It was important for Dylan, to do the big thing in front of both our families, and I wanted to make him happy." I explained with a shrug. "I still don't like big weddings."

"So you're going to spend a few days with him?" he just asked after a while.

I didn't want to tell Niall that I was going there mostly to break up with him because I didn't want him to think I did it for him, and I didn't want him to expect anything after that. I was not ready to be with someone else, not even Niall, but it was something I needed to do. I was doing that for me, because I didn't feel ready, because it was not what I wanted anymore. Of course, Niall was part of the equation, but it made me realize that I was not only scared to jump that step, but also that I didn't want to. I loved Dylan, I really did, but things were different, and I was different too. I was a different person than the one I was when I started dating him. I was even a different person than the one I was when he asked me to marry him. I was not even sure why he even wanted to marry me anyway.

"Probably, but I'll mostly be busy with auditions, and he'll be busy with filming his new movie."

I wanted to add a 'don't worry' but I didn't dare. Niall took a few steps to move closer to me and I moved my chin up to hold his gaze.

"We'll text and call each other while I'll be gone?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I'd love to." he confessed, bending down to kiss my lips. "I'm gonna miss you."

                                ---

The flight was horrible and it was probably the worst 13 hours I had to go through in a long time. I grabbed my luggage after waiting for way too long and just as I was about to leave, I got a notification. I almost decided to ignore it but I stopped near a wall, dropping my bags and checking my phone. I smiled when I saw Niall had sent me a video and when I saw him sitting behind his piano, my heart melted. I hit 'play' and bit my bottom lip, leaning against the wall as I turned the volume up.

"Liv, I know you've only been gone for a few hours but I already miss you. So I thought I'd send you this. I hope you remember."

I heard the first few piano notes and I knew what it was. My lips parted and I knew I was going to cry.

“Looking back through changes Where we started from Don’t know about you but I knew it wasn’t wrong You know I kept a place For you in my mind And I know you did the same 'Cause you’re just that kind.

So if we knew all along Why did it take so long? We’ve known since we were young So why did it take so long? You know you make me feel loved Make me feel like I’m home So if we knew all along Why did it take so long?”

I felt tears run down my cheeks as his voice and the melody brought me back to a bar over 2 years ago, when Niall had told me he loved me through this song. I brought my hand to my mouth and remained motionless as I listened to it.

“Moving on You and I started looking back Now we’ve got to make up For all the wasted time You know I’d never let you just walk on by From the day that I met you I knew you’d be mine, yeah.

So if we knew all along Why did it take so long? We’ve known since we were young Why did it take so long? You know you make me feel loved Make me feel like I’m home So if we knew all along Why did it take so long?”

When the bridge started, I let out a short sob but quickly bit my bottom lip. I couldn't start crying here, in public, right? I couldn't just break into tears here because of one song.

“Just started, it’s just started I’m having trouble believing it’s true Just started, just started Now we got nothing to prove."

The chorus played again but it's only when he stopped and turned to the camera on his phone again that my heart completely melted. I let myself slide on the wall until my butt hit the floor.

"I really just wanted you to remember that. To remember that this is the first song I wrote about how much I love you, but it's not the only one, and I won't ever stop writing songs about my love for you."

He paused and looked down before looking up again.

"I love you. Come back to me."

He moved closer to his phone to stop recording but I just stayed there, looking at the static thumbnail of his video, my vision blurry and my heart swollen. I loved him so much I just wanted to turn around and take an other plane to him.

"Are you okay?"

Quickly, I looked up at the voice and blinked a few times only to nod at the security guard that was frowning at me. I must have looked totally desperate because I was pretty sure it was not the first time he saw someone cry at the airport.

"Do you need me to call you a cab or something?"

I sniffed and wiped my tears before quickly getting up. I knew I looked like a mess. That reflected very well how I felt.

"Uhm, no, thank you. There's supposed to be a car waiting for me."

It took me half an hour to reach my hotel and I unpacked a few things. I had brought the stupid pink bear Niall had won for me and put it on the large bed along with one of my pillows before taking my phone to text Dylan. I could feel my heart thump so hard in my chest I felt like I was about to have a heart attack.

"I'm here, we really need to talk."

---

"You can't be serious."

I blinked a few times, staring at Dylan, as he reached for my hands on my lap and I let him take them and squeeze my fingers. I had decided to go see him at his apartment and I couldn't pretend the sight as I was on the road didn't shock me. The sight from his apartment was even prettier and I took a mental note to visit this country again. Perhaps, with Niall?

"I'm.. so sorry." I replied with a frown, looking down at his hands holding mine.

I suddenly felt insecure about my decision. After all, Dylan and I were happy, right? We had been happy since day one. He was a sweetheart, a gentleman and he was funny, and sensitive. He was laid-back, soft, and he was always there for me. He was the first and only person to break my walls after Niall broke my heart and also, and I hated to say it, he has been extremely important in my therapy process. How could I leave someone who literally put me back together and be in love with someone who completely tore me apart?

"Okay, you don't want to get married anymore, I understand." he pointed out, shaking his head slightly. "It was too soon, maybe, I get it. But we don't have to break up.."

I pressed my lips together and looked up at him, trying not to cry.

"We do, we have to." I let out low so my voice wouldn't break. "I'm not into this fully anymore and I don't think you are either."

"I'm just... busy here. I promise I love you just as much as I did, even more. And I miss you all the time, Olivia." he added, moving closer as I finally let tears fall on my cheeks. "Please don't cry babylove."

I closed my eyes at the nickname he always gave me and swallowed to keep the sobs in without much success. I never thought it would be so tough to actually break-up with him but it was. We had history together, and this relationship with him had been more important than any romantic relationship I ever had before, except the one with Niall's.

"I'm gonna ask for a few days off." he continued. "We can spend time here together and just... love each other again. I'm gonna do anything I can to remind you how happy we are together, I swear."

I looked up in his eyes and took my hands to bring them to his face. I shook my head and breathed in before licking my lips.

"You deserve so much better, Dyl." I admitted low even if saying those words hurt like hell. "You deserve so much better than a girl who can't be 100% with you."

His eyes roamed quickly on me and I saw him tear up.

"It's because of him, isn’t it? You're breaking up with me to be with Niall."

"No!" I closed my eyes, trying to keep my voice down. "That's not why I'm breaking up with you, Dylan I just... I can't do this anymore. I don't have a good reason for this. And I know that no matter what happens, I will be the bad guy in your story, and I think it's true. Maybe I'm the mistake you'll always regret, and maybe I'm the toxic girl you'll have fallen for. I'm so sorry to have that role in your life. That's not the part I expected to play, I promise."

"This is not a movie, Olivia." he let out a bit louder. "These are my feelings, they're real! This is my life, our life. Please, don't ruin this."

I felt my heart jump so high in my chest I was going to puke. Didn't I ask Niall the exact same thing when he broke up with me over a year ago? I brought my hands to wipe my own tears and sniffed before swallowing hard. I had to leave. I had to stop this torture, for both of us. I finally got up and he didn't stop me.

"I love you, you know." he just added as I was grabbing my purse. "Don't you love me anymore?"

"I do." I just said, turning to look at him. "That's not the problem, Dyl. And It's no one's fault."

I waited in front of the door and sight.

"Don't worry, I'll find the best Italian girl for the show. You concentrate on your movie, okay?"

"I don't give a fuck about this show anymore. Or that movie, for that matter."

I felt something twist in my chest and breathed in before sighing.

"Yea, me either."

[dilfhanni]

It’s the first case you’re on where the patient doesn't make it.

The outer office felt too quiet. The symptoms written on the board stared back at you and you felt like you were in a fog. You had worked for days on this case, trying to figure out what was wrong with the patient. You had lost sleep and felt like you were losing your intellect, running into roadblocks every step of the way.

It didn’t help that House wanted to find the answer just as badly as everyone else did and that he kept berating every idea that you or anyone else on the team threw out. He was working in the morgue now to run final tests. Anything to solve the puzzle, you thought bitterly.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle not solving the case, you knew you put your all into it and the rest of the team had told you not to be so hard on yourself. They told you that House was just frustrated that he didn’t figure out what was wrong and that he didn’t get to solve his puzzle on time. None of that bothered you, you had dealt with his frustrations and insults and pushing for months now. What bothered you was that this was the first patient you lost and you had been the one forced to do most of the procedures and administer medication.

For some reason, House was being harder on you than usual. But you can’t pretend you didn’t know why. It was because this case scared you and he could sense that. You let your guard down for two seconds during the differential and had a slip of the tongue, mentioning that you felt bad for the woman you were treating. He had looked at you questioningly, pressing you to explain why; but you had given a lame excuse. You told him that you just felt bad that she had so much to deal with and that you were trying to get in touch with your emotions like a normal human.

He had left it alone, but you knew he was trying to figure out what you were really feeling and why you felt that way. That’s why he was so hard on you whenever you gave any input – he was trying to make you crack. You held yourself together until now.

Now, you just felt empty and like the rest of the world was a blur. You didn’t save that woman and, in some odd way, you felt like you didn’t save yourself. You felt like everything was dull and like nothing mattered. You heard someone come into the empty room, flicking the lights on and breaking your train of thought. You looked over to the door to find House standing near the doorway, staring at you with his face pinched in confusion.

“Why aren’t you at home? Case is over.” He walked over to the small kitchenette and poured himself a cup of coffee, avoiding eye contact with you.

“I lost track of time. I guess my brain isn’t working normally after overworking it like that.” You threw out another lame excuse; a lie. You were punishing yourself for your lack of ability. You were too caught up in your head to do much of anything and you knew your brain was working. However, you didn’t know if it was normal. You took in a deep breath and kept your eyes on the whiteboard, your muscles aching and your posture tense.

You could see him turn to look at you out of the corner of your eye and soon enough he was blocking your vision, sitting across from you at the table. He took a sip from his coffee, your eyes following the movement of the mug. You were done with the defenses, if he wanted to question every little reason for your behavior throughout and after this case then you would answer them all. You were tired enough, lying would only exhaust you even more.

“Why did this case bother you so badly? Was it because I was pushing you more than the others? Because if you can’t handle that, then I don’t know how you’ve made it this far.” He set his mug down and started fiddling with his cane, bouncing it up and down a bit. You didn’t have the energy to figure out why he needed so badly to know why this bothered you. “Or was it because you haven’t lost a patient before? Did they not teach you in medical school that people die? Sometimes faster than others and sometimes in worse ways than others, but everybody dies.”

You tilted your head down, looking at your feet through the glass of the table. You knew people died and yet it wasn’t that aspect of this case that bothered you. You just didn’t know how to articulate what the real issue was. You figured it would be best to spit out whatever explanation came to your brain first; maybe that was the most honest one.

“I saw parts of my life in her. I listened to her talk about how shitty her life has been already and that things were just starting to turn around. She was planning a career for herself and she was hopeful and she-“ You shook your head, cutting your rambling off. You couldn’t let yourself delve into your past so easily, so you bit down on your bottom lip hard, the pinching feeling releasing you from the numbness you felt around you for just that moment. Until you got used to the pain and let go; deciding it was better to feel everything in this moment.

“You got personally invested. It happens, I get it. But – the thing that’s interesting me the most right now is – what parts of your life are you hiding? Some secret life-threatening illness that takes a genius and his fellows to figure out that, unlike her, you survived? Do you think because you’re similar to her in any way that you’ll end up like her? Dead with no reason?” He leaned forward, his cane leaning against the chair beside him and his eyes searching every inch of your body that he could. He was looking for a clue; another puzzle to solve. Which reminded him.

“I’m also curious as to why you haven’t asked what I found out in the morgue? I mean, I’m being abnormally nice to you by indulging in your sadness and not just ignoring it. I figured I could at least get some sort of interest from you out of everyone else.” You knew he didn’t have to explain why. He figured you’d be more interested in the answer – like him – because of how hard he had pushed you. Of how many times he rejected your theories and mocked you and made you feel less than.

He was purposeful in his actions, that you knew of. He purposefully talked to you, figuring you’d ask why he had let go of the case so easily. He knew you were more like him than you’d like to admit. You were more like him than Foreman in some ways, and that was something you didn’t know if you were proud of. You did know that you were happy to have some value on the team, someone that the others looked at like House 3.0 (you couldn’t take Foreman’s place of House 2.0).

“I don’t care anymore. She’s dead, you got to solve the puzzle, our lives will go on with the next case and then the next. She’ll be forgotten in a few days and we will be fine.” You got the courage to look up at him and make eye contact, your face pulled into a look of hurt that you were trying so desperately to conceal. You didn’t cry; no, that part came for when you got home and you were completely alone and felt the crushing weight of how heavy this all felt. Of how deeply this affected you over things you thought you had gotten past.

You shifted in your seat, the tension in your body becoming more and more noticeable – so much so that you thought you would never relax again. You decided to take a chance and spill the beans, tell House the truth instead of dancing around it like it would go away with nonexistent magic.

“I didn’t have a life-threatening illness that took an arrogant ass and his more than slightly corrupted fellows to solve just in the nick of time. I’m not spiraling because I think I’ll die within the next week or month or even year for no reason and have no one but one of the miserable doctors on my case feel any sadness over my death. I did however go through the vicious cycle of wanting to off yourself until the only option was a mental institution. I went through the ups of things getting better and thinking that things were finally going my way only for everything to be smashed to pieces.” You took a deep breath, holding it for a few moments because you felt like your lungs were collapsing in on themselves.

You felt too exposed and you knew there was no turning back, the words had already left your mouth and they sat heavy in the air. But you couldn’t leave it at that, you couldn’t let the little bit of information end there, because there was more to it than that. There was more than just this woman’s mental health that you felt connected to. You brought your hand up to your head and ran your fingers through your hair, hoping that you didn’t look as wrecked as you felt.

“I’ve been down those roads more times than I’d like to admit. But I can listen to anyone’s sob story and feel fine; I can keep those memories out of my head. She… She had no one. Everyone left her and she got hit in the fucking face with all of this. I realized I don’t want to be completely alone for the rest of my life, not with how overwhelming it is to be the only one to push yourself to get better. I want someone there with me through the good and the bad and I don’t care what form they come in.” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “I hate how you just… You say things that could be completely in outer space about someone and yet every single time you hit the nail on the head. You’re right, House. I don’t want to end up like her.” You had been watching his face for any kind of reaction, your eyes drifting to the symptoms every now and then as you spoke.

He sat patiently through every word, his eyes never leaving yours and his mouth pulled into a tight line. You knew he was uncomfortable, and you immediately felt guilty for pushing all of that out there to someone who didn’t care or have the capacity to comfort you. His body had now tensed up a bit, his right hand rubbing his thigh and his left hand gripping the handle of the coffee mug just tightly enough for you to notice. He took a minute to think before speaking, something you were grateful for.

“You won’t end up alone. Everyone likes you and they’ll all care whenever you die. I can tell you for a fact that you wouldn’t be in the morgue right now if you were in her place.” He let go of his mug and pushed it to the side a bit, bringing both of his arms up to rest on the tabletop. “I wondered why there were gaps in your medical history. Cuddy didn’t know why there was so much missing either, but now it makes sense.” He held on to that thought and question for another time, right now he was trying to do the right thing. He was trying to be comfort for you because he saw how broken you looked.

“If you ever have some mystery illness in the future, I’ll oversee everything. Obviously, because it’ll no doubt be interesting.” He shrugged as if that was an acceptable reason. But you took it and you gave him a small smile, the world around you slowly losing its fog. You still felt empty and broken, not sure if you could even remember how to get home at this point. Your brain was so exhausted and you just wanted out of this conversation.

It was at that moment that a perfectly timed yawn escaped your lips, your body aching for you to stretch and lay down. To finally get the rest you needed. You watched him glance around the office before standing, grabbing his cane. You assumed he was heading home, so you allowed yourself to stand to do the same, your muscles aching but singing in relief at the same time. You leaned against one of the chairs at the table, your eyes unable to look away from the symptoms again. House cleared his throat a bit and you broke your stare, looking over to where he was standing in the doorway to his office.

“I can drive you home. You shouldn’t be driving so sleep deprived.” His words shocked you a bit but brought a warmth to your body that you didn’t realize you were missing. You nodded slightly and watched as he grabbed his bookbag and keys, your eyelids becoming heavier by the second.

As you two walked to his car in the parking garage, you could feel the chill of winter around you and it was refreshing. In the car, you both were silent after you gave him your address. Although, you thought he would have looked into all of your personal information by now to know it. You could feel your eyes getting heavier and you leaned your head against the window, the cold bringing you into reality and away from what you left behind in the office.

You drifted off to sleep with the thought that maybe House could be your friend. If you two were so much alike then it wouldn’t be so hard and you could even hang out with Wilson, someone you enjoyed being around.

You were just happy that you weren’t alone and that someone cared enough – if that’s what it was – to talk to you. To take you away from your own thoughts and the heaviness you felt throughout the past few days. You didn’t expect it to come from House, maybe Chase or Cameron, but you welcomed it anyway.

[pascalls]

Huzzah! A romance prompt:

Hot Chocolate

I finally wrote something for this and it’s so dumb but I hope you all enjoy it. Featuring Charlie, Sam the Barfly, and Moe (and also Barney a little bit). 

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

With the taste of malt liquor stale on his tongue, Charlie found himself coming back to consciousness, a musky scent filling his nose and making him want to gag. The greasy floor he was laying on was hard and uncomfortable, having left his bones aching and his back feeling like he’d just been hit by a car. His eyes opened, despite his brain not wanting to, and for once, he was thankful that the lighting in Moe’s was subpar, at best. The dusty interior was not an aggravated assault on the senses, but still, he would have liked to have woken up in a bed instead of on the hard tile. 

“Ugh… What time is it,” he groaned, not yet sitting up, but at least trying to peer over to where Moe was hovering, lazily wiping down the bar top with an overused rag. There was no way it was morning yet. Or, at least, it wasn’t past sunrise. Otherwise Moe would be pouring vodka into his bowl of Froot Loops. It didn’t seem like he’d gone to bed yet. 

“Two-thirty,” the bartender responded. He didn’t seem very bothered by the fact that Charlie had passed out on the floor. Not like it was the first time. As of late, the hybrid had a bad habit of finding some kind of substance, chasing it with his body weight in whiskey, and then promptly falling asleep before he could make it back to the reverend’s. “You slept with Barney.”

“I what-?!” Charlie exclaimed, pushing himself up, only to whack his head on the underside of the table he’d holed up under. His ears rang and he groaned again, reaching up to rub at his scalp. Ow.

“Oh. Hah. Sorry. I meant you fell asleep under the table next to Barney.”

Charlie glanced over to see that Moe was correct. Barney had somehow rolled off the bar stool he’d been sitting on a few hours prior, passing out unceremoniously underneath the large circular table that was neighbor to Charlie’s. The hybrid muttered to himself before eventually crawling out from under his sleeping spot, making his way over to the bar to sit and glaring at Moe. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that ever again.”

They weren’t alone. While Barney had opted for a nap, Charlie recognized a few others still lingering in the wee hours of the morning. He assumed both Lenny and Carl had staggered home not too long ago, but both Larry and Sam remained, neither seeming to be very invested in their own consciousness. As was the usual. Charlie’s stare lingered for just a moment before Moe was pulling his attention back. 

“You wanna nightcap?” He asked, already in the process of grabbing a nearby bottle which Charlie quickly refused. His stomach was churning a bit from his previous binge. He didn’t need to lose everything he’d eaten during the day on top of his splitting headache and exhaustion. 

“No, m’fine. I should probably… go before somebody gets on my ass about not being where I need to be.” 

“Alright, but you better not be drivin’.” Moe pointed at the hybrid with a squint; one that Charlie returned in kind.

“I don’t have a car.” 

“I figured you’d steal one.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because that’s what I’d do.”

Rolling his eyes, Charlie scooted off the stool and made his way to the door, passing the other two men briefly and giving them a passing wave. He’d talked to the pair once or twice. They were wordier when they were drunk, but only just so. And somewhere in the back of his mind, Charlie reminded himself, that Sam knew a little more about Charlie by pure happenstance. Thankfully, he’d remained fairly quiet about that too. 

Swinging open the door, Charlie took a few steps outside before he realized - a little too late - that rain was coming down fairly heavily. There was no wind to carry it in one direction or another, the drops simply pouring onto the pavement and soaking Charlie entirely. The hybrid stared dully into the distance. This might as well happen. 

He didn’t move from where he was, just sort of standing there on the sidewalk and feeling his clothes get more and more soaked through. His brain didn’t seem to think that was much of an issue, but his feet refused to carry him in the direction of home. Instead, he continued to stare into nothingness, exhaustion - and a sudden heavy veil of listlessness - keeping him rooted to the spot. Somewhere along the line, he began to realize that his temperature was dropping. That was probably not good. He’d have to fix that before long.

“...You’re gettin’ all wet.”

The voice pulled him back to the present, turning and noticing that Sam and Larry had finally made their way out of Moe’s, presumably to retire for the night before they too passed out next to Barney. Larry was already walking away, his jacket collar pulled up in a fruitless effort to protect him from the rain. Sam, on the other hand, at least had an umbrella keeping him dry as he stared at Charlie with some manner of concern. 

“...Uh. Yeah. I guess I am,” Charlie replied, blinking once or twice and then glancing down at himself. Hm. Well. Yeah. He was wet. Wow.

Sam glanced around briefly before taking a few steps over and placing the umbrella over the both of them. As he spoke, his words slurred, but Charlie didn’t notice over his own foggy state of mind. “You’re not some kinda marine iguana or somethin’ right? I think they like water. Saw it on uh… Mm… That… science… channel once.”

“National Geographic?” Charlie asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Nah…” Sam replied. “ESPN 2.”

The hybrid snorted in amusement. “No. I’m not a marine iguana. I’m just… really drunk, I think.” Among other things. He’d taken some mixture of pills that he would not recommend to anyone else. But they would make their way out of his system eventually. “Uh… Thanks. For the…” He gestured to the umbrella. 

“Honestly, this weather ain’t great for walking. Y’think Moe’s got anything to eat in there?”

Charlie seemed to give that some thought. It was already the middle of the night. And if Lovejoy wasn’t blowing up his phone by now, the chances of him noticing any time before sunrise was slim. He hummed a little under his breath before shrugging. It was probably best he filled his stomach with something other than booze and pills. 

“Let’s ask.”

Sam didn’t need much convincing himself before he moved to keep them marginally dry as they wandered back into the bar. Moe had been in the process of trying to roll Barney over with a broom so he could sweep up underneath him, but glanced up when the door opened again. Charlie shook the water from himself as best as he could, but it was to little avail. He’d probably just need to wait until he was dry.

Closing the umbrella, Sam tossed it against the wall near the door and settled himself back on the stool where he’d been before, Charlie scooting up and onto the one next to him. As long as Barney was passed out, the hybrid took some time to pull off his mask and other effects which were fairly soaked through, placing them on the stool next to him and breathing out a little sigh. Moe had seen him a few times by now. It seemed like more and more people knew what he looked like as time went on. At that particular moment, he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“Tell me you’ve got something to eat,” Charlie asked as Moe drifted back over, looking over the rain-soaked man with some scrutiny. 

“I’ve got uh… Probably some Spam sitting around somewhere. Lemme look.”

“I’m having a hard time turning that down.” Charlie wasn’t going to be picky. And apparently, neither was Sam, as the man said nothing.

Moe disappeared in the back room for a time, clattering around among his shelves and god knew what else. Charlie watched as a roach slid out from the doorway and promptly disappeared into the nearest electrical socket. There was a little buzz, a hiss, and the roach did not re-emerge. The hybrid assumed that whatever it saw in the back room was heinous enough for the little bug to end it all.

“Well lookee here!” Moe proclaimed as he re-emerged, holding a half-empty jug of milk and a bottle of chocolate syrup that looked like it came from the 70’s. “It ain’t Spam, but it’s somethin’, huh? Check this out.”

“Chocolate milk?” Sam asked, staring at the bartender. 

“Nah. Even better.” Moe brought over the ingredients, pouring the milk into a few glasses and squirting the chocolate… syrup (it looked more like sauce at this point) into it soon after. He then held up each mug in turn, using a lighter to heat up the bottom of the glass before plopping a few stale marshmallow Peeps that were sad and dull from their time spent hidden somewhere in the cabinets beneath the bar. Presumably from Easter. ...This past Easter, hopefully.

Pleased with himself, Moe offered two of the glasses to Charlie and Sam who stared at the brown concoction that was making short work of dissolving those Peeps into rainbow mush that floated at the top of the layer of milk. “See? Hot cocoa! PERFECT for them rainy days like this one.” As if to sell the mixture, he took a long swig of his own, choking back the drink with a few hacked coughs and then offering his two patrons a grimacing smile. “Eh? EH?!”

Charlie squinted down at his own before coming to the conclusion that… he really didn’t even care what he put into his own body at this point. And the chocolate DID smell at least a little enticing. So with a little glance at Sam and a shrug, he upended his own into his mouth. It was not great. In fact, one might even say that it was terrible. The milk was absolutely close to spoiling, if not already spoiled, and the Peeps floated around in his mouth in chunky bits. But he downed the drink dutifully. It was warm, if nothing else. And it’d keep him from drifting off into a hypothermic coma. 

“...It’s great, Moe,” Charlie replied once he was able to say anything about it at all. A blatant lie, but the bartender was content with the review. The hybrid just hoped he wouldn’t put it on his ‘menu’ as a permanent addition. 

“Uh… yeah. Really… great.” Sam added, having had a bit of a harder time with his own, but he too didn’t find it very necessary to spoil Moe’s spirits. But the two shared a knowing glance, watching as Moe, triumphant that he’d created something worthwhile for once in his life, scurried off to write down his ‘recipe’. 

Charlie pushed his empty glass away, poking his tongue out a little in disgust. Egh. “We can never tell him.”

Sam did the same with his own, wishing that he’d just ordered another beer instead. “...Yeah, I’m on board with that.” 

“And so the pact is sealed,” Charlie joked, reaching up with a hand to offer his pinky claw to the other. “I would say we should seal it in blood, but I’m already suffering with this aftertaste.” 

Sam offered a little smirk before reaching up to hook his own pinky with Charle’s. “Takin’ it to the grave.” 

Their hands remained touching for a few seconds, a delayed reaction only bringing Charlie’s back to himself after a prolonged met gaze, his eyes flicking away in mild embarrassment. He was drunk. They were both drunk. Reaching up, Charlie absently ran a hand through his hair to try and make it a little more… presentable. He wasn’t sure why. 

Well. He wanted to pretend that he wasn’t sure why.

Moe’s return chased away the moment. He’d come back with more random ‘ingredients’ he’d found in the back storeroom.

Charlie and Sam gave a few little groans. Had Charlie known they’d be given the job as taste-testers, he might have just walked back to Lovejoy’s in the storm. 

But… he wasn’t alone here. Even if he’d never get the taste of stale Peeps off his tongue, he at least felt content with the knowledge that there was a warmth keeping him from drifting too far into the cold loneliness of the rain. 

Yeah. This was better.