#well I didn’t do too shabby anyways

[muteddaydreams]

thinking abt how in my physics 1 class in college how everyone would cheat on every single test while my prof would hold a big ole magazine up in front of his face

[caitlynprotector]

I was supposed to work on my essay but I wrote 2k words of childhood Caitvi AU instead welp

(takes place after the explosion in Jayce's lab)

“Down the corridor,” Grayson says in her rough, though not unkind voice, “last door to the right. And do me a favour, young Violet,”

Vi raises one of her eyebrows while she tries not to flinch at the use of her full name. She doesn’t even like it when her family calls her that but the Sheriff of Piltover? That’s so much worse. 

“Try to be kind. Young Kiramman has had a rough couple of days so she might be snappish towards you.”

The young girl scoffs, “So she can be a pain in my ass but I have to play nice?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, already done with this entire stunt, “Great.”

Surprisingly, Grayson doesn’t fall for the bait. She merely huffs, more to herself than Vi. 

“Considering that you and your little group are particularly at fault for her stay here, I think she has every right to be a little crass towards you.”

“Then why do I even have to go talk to her in the first place?” She isn’t whining per se, voicing her complains does not count as whining. ”She probably won’t accept my apology anyway.” 

All of this is just. so. stupid. 

“That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t deserve to hear it,” Grayson gently persists, “And now go. The sooner you go, the sooner you can leave.”

Well, Vi can’t argue with that logic, although she makes sure to groan extra loudly as she turns around and begins her own personal walk of shame. She knows that Grayson is right but that doesn’t make it any less humiliating. 

Groveling at some piltie princess’ feet and begging her for forgiveness? No one in the undercity is every going to let her live this down if they find out. And they will find out since Mylo, that stupid blabber mouth, knows that she’s currently topside. All of this just to keep the rest of them out of trouble. 

The worst part is that Caitlyn Kiramman is probably completely fine and only staying this long in the hospital so her councilor mom can gain some sympathy points. 

Then again, Vander must know more than she does and he wouldn’t have made her go all the way topside if it was nothing. 

--

“You’re going to visit the Kirammans and apologize.”

Vi blinks slowly once. Twice. She waits for the punchline of the joke but nothing else follows Vander’s insane request. 

“You want me to apologize to some rich Piltie counciler for blowing up one shabby lab?” He’s got to be kidding. “Why? It’s not like they can’t afford to buy ten more of those They probably wouldn’t even have noticed if the enforcers hadn’t made such a big deal out of it.”

“You’re not apologizing to Cassandra Kiramman,” Vander sighs and for the first time, Vi can see his age in his wrinkled brow and tired eyes. “You’re going to apologize to their daughter, Caitlyn.” 

Vi frowns, “Daughter?” She didn’t know the Kirammans had a daughter. “Why the hell should I talk to their daughter?” 

“Because Sheriff Grayson has told me that she’s been in the hospital since your little stunt topside.”

She stops pacing, her feet rooted to the old carpet as her blood runs cold. 

Shit. 

-- 

Vi shivers as she remembers the serious look on her father’s face. No matter how much she disagrees with this, she’ll make sure to see it trough. At least it increases the odds of Powder and the rest of her siblings getting out of this without any further consequences. 

Even if it means begging Caitlyn Kiramman for forgiveness. 

“Wasn’t even my fault,” she mumbles to herself while knocking her shoulder into the door leading to Kiramman’s room. “If whoever was working there could have just secured their shit a little bet--” 

She stops dead in her tracks as she passes the threshold and entres the hospital room. It looks glamorous with it’s pretty windows and high ceiling, more glamorous than any room Vi has ever been in down in the Undercity. She’d gag if her attention wasn’t immediately drawn to something else. 

The figure in the middle of a way too pompous bed (considering this is a stupid hospital) is turned away from her, a clean, white blanked pulled all the way up to its chin. Honestly, it looks like whoever is lying there is doing their best to hide from… something. 

Suddenly, Vi feels nervous. 

“Uh,” she starts to stutter out, only now realising that maybe she should have rehearsed this beforehand, “are--” 

“Go away.” Oh, wow. Posh. Very posh and positively miserable. Shit. “I already told you I’m not hungry. Just leave me alone.” 

“I’m not a nurse. I’m here to… uhm,” How does she even begin this conversation? “Are you Caitlyn Kiramman?” 

The figure in the bed doesn’t move and for a second, Vi debates whether it would be okay if she just turned around and left. But Grayson is probably still waiting at the end of the corridor, as if the city doesn’t need its sheriff to actually do something useful. 

She takes a deep breath and takes a step closer towards the bed, “Listen, I’m here to apologize. About that accident the other day?” Silence. “It was my… it was me and my friends who kind of, uh, broke into that place?” 

It’s so awkward talking to a lump of blue hair but Vi doesn’t have another choice so she takes a deep breath and continues. 

Just get through it and leave. 

“Anyway, we didn’t know that there was some dangerous stuff in there and we didn’t mean to cause any harm. Obviously.” No reaction, still. “So… I’m sorry,” she finishes lamely and waits. She waits for… something. Anything. 

Isn’t she worth an answer at least? Typical Piltie.

“So yeah, that’s-”

“Get out.” 

Vi grits her teeth, her hands balling into fists at the dismissive tone from the other girl.

“Come on, at least let me-”

“I said leave,” the girl repeats, though her voice has gone from sad to angry. It does little to keep Vi’s own rising temper at bay. 

“You won’t even let me say my piece?” Her words have a cutting edge to them, though there is nothing she can do about that. “Didn’t expect anything less from some piltie prince-”

Her insult is interrupted by the sound of rustling sheets and high-pitched yelling, “I said leave! Haven’t you done enough to me?!” 

With a still half-opened mouth, Vi finds herself staring at the heavy breathing form of Caitlyn Kiramman. Or most of her, considering that there is a thick bandage covering half her face, including her left eye. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck has she done? 

She doesn’t respond straight away as her eyes roam the girl’s form. She’s dressed in a simple clean, white gown. Nothing fancy, nothing pretty and yet Vi suddenly feels self-concious abotu her own appearance. She’s well aware of the specks of dirt, blood and whatever else covering her clothes, as well as her hair. It’s nothing like the long, pretty flow of blue that’s framing Caitlyn’s face quite nicely. 

“I…” The words die in her mouth. There are tears forming in the girl’s eye and she looks seconds away from falling apart right there in her fancy bed. “I’m really sor-”

“Don’t.” The venom in her words enough for Vi to take a step back. “Do not say that you’re sorry again when you’re not.”

“I am!”

“I don’t believe you. What is it you said? Piltie princess?” Caitlyn scoffs, her hand coming up to rub aggressive at her good eye. “Oh yes, I’m sure you’re very sorry for being caught. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.” There is a pause but Vi can’t find any words to stop her rant. “So just… leave me alone. I don’t want to speak to you.”

It’s the dismissal that Vi has been waiting for. She can just turn and leave, be done with it. She can leave and never has see Caitlyn Kiramman again. It’s what she’s hoped for. 

Then why can’t she bring herself to do just that?

“I…” Leaving doesn’t feel right. Leaving feels wrong. 

In the end, that choice isn’t for her to decide. 

The door behind her flings open, causing Vi to spin around. She’s met with the imposing statue of a man in a doctor’s coat, his short and styled hair a perfect match to Caitlyn’s. Vi feels her stomach sink as the realisation kicks in. 

“Who are you? What are you doing in my daughter’s room?” 

“I’m here to talk to her,” she manages to stammer out, “To apologize for-”

“I want her to go! You too!” Caitlyn sounds nearly hysterical at this point, “I want you all to just leave me alone!”

Grayson, thankfully chooses that moment to appear behind Mr. Kiramman and save her from any further embarrassment, “I apologize, young Kiramman. We’ll take our leave immediately to let you get some rest.”

Vi is still turned away from Caitlyn but judging by the way her father tenses as he looks at his daughter, she figures that the sheriff’s words were chosen poorly.

“I don’t need rest, I need to get out of here!” Her voice sounds watery. It shouldn’t bother Vi. 

It does. 

“Caitlyn-”

“No, you and mom just don’t want me back home because I look like a freak now!” 

It’s clear that this conversation isn’t for her ears anymore and Grayson must agree because she reaches for her and gently begins to pull her out of the room. Vi is helpless to do anything but look back and stare at the hunched over figure on the bed and the man who is desperately trying to comfort her with hushed words that she can’t make out.

Grayson closes the door and gives them the privacy they need. 

They begin to walk away from the room in silence, Vi with her head low and way too many thoughts swirling around in her head. 

She doesn’t even attempt to speak until they are almost at the entrance of the hospital, “She didn’t want my apology.” 

Saying it doesn’t give her the satisfaction she hoped it would. Nor does the thought of never seeing Caitlyn Kiramman again. 

[fanfic-compass]

~Deal?~

Alastor X Reader

Summary: You're the newest Overlord and meet Alastor at a Meeting, tempting him to offer you a deal.

Word count: 1.3K

It was your first overlord meeting. Nobody knew who you were when you suddenly appeared in hell and killed a man who was coming just a little too close. Little did you know you killed an overlord on your very first day in hell but that asshole deserved it with the way he was trying to touch you and talking you into becoming a porn star.

Anyways, as soon as you killed that guy you felt a weird tingling sensation as if you could feel power running through your veins. And then you started your own little business in hell by building a casino. Who doesn’t like to gamble? And soon your casino attracted thousands of visitors every week and thanks to some of them being completely delusional with their stakes you also got many of their souls.

And then you got an invitation to a meeting of all the overlords of hell. You were excited and curious to see what they had to discuss and who they were. You stepped into a dark alley and you immediately stated questioning whether or not everything was just some prank or revenge. They alley looked so dark and shabby but then you saw another man. He was much taller than you, wore an elegant red coat and a monocle and he had red and black hair. But what you definitely saw first was the big smile on his face that showed his sharp teeth and simply looked creepy. For a moment he looked into what appeared to be a surveillance camera and then he got into an elevator. After carefully watching him you decided to follow him and see where he would go.

So you got into the elevator too and when you stepped out you found yourself in a big hallway with many other people. There were more elevators than you could see on the outside and so you couldn’t help but wonder where they all came from. But you did notice that they were all walking in the same direction and so you simply followed them into a big meeting room. There was a large table in the middle with many different people around it. When you stepped closer you were immediately greeted by a woman you’ve seen before, her name was Carmilla Carmine. You knew she was selling weapons but other than that she was a mystery to you. However she seemed rather friendly.

“Ah, our newest addition. Take a seat.” She gestured for you to sit down somewhere which you quickly did. You sat next to a woman who introduced herself as Rosie and you went along really well. She told you about the tasty side of cannibalism and invited you to come over to have a cup of tea. You agreed, although you were kinda scared that you were her next meal. When you wanted to ask her something again you heard someone clearing their throat which made you turn around in shock. And then you stared into the face of none other than the man you saw at the elevator earlier with his smile that sent shivers down your spine.

“Excuse me, my dear but you’re sitting in my seat. So would you please move?” He said, sounding awfully polite and not once dropping that smile.

You quickly wanted to move, scared of what he would be able to do if you didn’t but before you could get up, Carmilla spoke up.

“Brave words for someone we haven’t seen in seven years, Alastor.”

“Well yes, I have been absent for some time, I’m sure you’ve all been missing me, wondering where I am.”

“Not really.” Carmilla answered bluntly.

Somehow you could see that Alastor didn’t like the fact that she didn’t really care but yet his smile didn’t drop a bit which was honestly impressive and a bit scary too.

“But welcome back anyways. However you will simply have to find another seat if yours is taken.”

“Oh, I can move, no problem.” You offered, standing up but you were quickly pulled back onto your seat by Rosie.

“Don’t you worry, darling.” She said. “Alastor can find another seat.”

Shortly after that the meeting started. It was quite boring business about extermination day and you had to admit you weren’t really interested in all that. So after the meeting you quickly made your way out and went back home.

You were exhausted from your day so you quickly headed off to bed and fell asleep. In the middle of the night though you quickly got woken up again by weird noises. You got out of bed and investigated when you suddenly saw a figure standing in the corner of your bedroom, staring right at you.

“Hello?” You asked, trying to hide the fear in your voice.

The person stepped into the light and you saw that it was Alastor.

“Hello, my darling.” He said in his charming voice that carried a heavy radio static.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?”

“Well, I noticed you at the meeting today and I was absolutely intrigued by you. What a stunning young lady you are, down here in hell and immediately an overlord. Not many people got so high so quickly. Nobody except me actually.”

You knew his story, Rosie told you after the meeting. He was the radio demon who broadcasted the screams of everyone who tried to harm him.

“I know about you.” You told him.

“Very well, my dear. Then you are aware what I am capable of doing once you get in my way.” His smile grew a bit.

“I do not plan to get in your way. I am running my casino, I have my fair share of souls, I’m happy.”

“I don’t believe you are. Which is why I am here.”

“To kill me and broadcast my screams? Am I too powerful for your liking?”

Alastor laughed. “Oh no, darling. You are perfectly powerful. In fact I came to offer you a deal: We will combine our power to become the most feared pair in hell. We would be working closely together to get everyone under our command.”

It did sound tempting. “And how will I know once we did that you won’t kill me to have everything for yourself?”

Alastor chuckled. “That’s part of the deal, if one of us dies, the other one dies too.”

“That sounds too good to be so simple. So tell me, what do you want in return?” You knew that a deal would never be so easy. A deal always had a catch.

“We will work closely together, we will be partners. Not just in the conventional way like two business partners.”

Ohhhhh, you understood. But he didn’t seem like the type of man who cared about something like that. And Alastor must have noticed that because he quickly started explaining.

“You see, I was enraptured by you today. How you weren’t scared, how you didn’t care and the fact that you’re so powerful after such a short time… truly inspiring, darling. So what do you say? You will be mine and I will be yours… I’ll give you twelve hours to think about it.”

With that he was gone as quickly as he came, leaving you speechless and confused. You started thinking about it and finally made a decision. In the morning you walked o his radio station where you knocked on the door and were quickly greeted by a smiling Alastor. You didn’t need to say a word before he stormed towards you and kissed you fiercely.

The feeling of his lips on yours was a new sensation and you were startled for a moment before melting into him. He held you tightly but he didn’t force you into any position, he was a gentleman after all. After a moment he pulled away and grinned.

“I assume we have a deal?” He asked and without letting you answer he kissed you once again, sealing the deal.

[luffyvace]

Aizawa crush headcanons

”aizawa crush headcanons, but like make him realize he’s in love with you at the end, so that like, he can do something about it or he can’t ignore it”

asked by a good friend of mine irl. she didn’t mention gender so i’m going with afab since i haven’t written for that yet ♡

(ps i’m not going to mention what type of person he would like unless you req that i want to keep this as neutral as possible)

aizawa having a crush on you means finding cats to take care of together

it means warm, comfortable, solidarity silence

he would still be himself around you for sure, he would want you to like him for who he is

changing himself is too much effort. if you don’t like him back he’ll have to move on whether it hurts or not

people still need teaching and saving after all and the world isn’t going to stop just for him

being a realist he’s aware of that

but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to clean up if you go out somewhere together (prior to dating, first impressions are everything)

he wouldn’t be afraid to tell you like it is if you ask for his opinion,

in his eyes sugarcoating things aren’t going to help you

but he wouldn’t necessarily be as harsh on you as he is on his students or mic

to woo you he wouldn’t really do anything above and beyond

he acknowledges that he likes you but he doesn’t want to waste time if his crush on you doesn’t blossom into something bigger

so instead of going all out he relies on things like little compliments, little favors and quality time

examples;

”you don’t look half bad today l/n”

”not too shabby, i guess” *combs hand through hair* (yeah that’s another thing, he’ll do little gestures to sway you but we’ll dabble into that more later)

”you smell fresh, that’s a nice aroma”

for little favors……

you: “ahh crap i left my keys in my car”

him: *magically knows a way to open locked out cars* you: *clearly having a rough day* him: *opens a window for you to vent* you: “awww man the last of ____ is sold out!”

him: “hmm..well, i’ll keep an eye out for when it’s back in stock” *the very next day* “oh yeah turns out i already had one i just forgot, here you can have it”

im not lying he actually did have one and forgot

as far as quality time:

inviting each other over for movie nights (he always falls alseep so you get most of the popcorn- 🎉 unless it’s his favorite movie- then he stays up eyes red and all, while sucking nothing out of an empty juicy box)

although movie night only happens when your closer friends though- he keeps his friend circle small because anyone could betray him and he doesn’t like people (he doesn’t hate them either he just stays to himself)

quality time for him can also be texting and checking up on each other

it doesn’t always have to be physical for him to feel appreciated

if YOU want to sway HIM though

get him a cat

self explanatory

but you can also listen to him when he talks, shoulder massages (only when your real close tho), give it to him straight.. definitely don’t be phony…and yeah!

pretty much be yourself

if he doesn’t fall for you himself there’s no way to convince him to

and if he falls for you it’s not for any facade you put on

its for your real true self

your personality.

he accepts your flaws and who you are but he will talk to you about bettering yourself a few times if they’re really bad and habitual (which he’s perfect if you have low self esteem because he’ll help you realize you might be overthinking and underestimating yourself, bringing you back to reality like the realist he is)

he’s not necessarily judgmental though

i feel like the part of him that’s not afraid to tell it like it is, is being misunderstood as him being judgmental

anyway that’s for when he has a crush on you

now its time for love

😍

okay so what (for), when, where and why right?

(“what about who? 🤓☝️“ YOU, FOOL!)

so what (for):

i dabbled in this okay? he loves your personality

for your flaws, your strengths, your weaknesses, your IQ (high or low), your fears

he loves everything about you

when?:

probably when you guys are pretty close

not him and mic close

but y’all have been friends for some time now

i say a couple of months

he doesn’t fall fast

maybe first though, if you an oblivious typa person

where (does he realize);

he was probably sitting on his couch after dinner, waiting for his shower to get hot, snug as a bug in his sleeping bag, drinkin a juicy box.

see the vision?

okay

so he was thinkin n thinkin n thinkin…

about you.

wait.

about you

why was he thinking so much about you.

omg wait..

he just remembered..

your beautiful smile (don’t care if it’s crooked, missing teeth, over/underbite- it’s GOREGEOUS)

your beautiful hair

your beautiful eyes

your personality

he realized he was thinking about you so much because…

he loves you

sits there head empty for a hot minute…

then falls asleep..

(rip water bill- shower still running)

why?:

wym why he fell in love? your YOU!!

your amazing even if he doesn’t say it all the time

or even if you don’t think it

even if no else thinks it!

someone does!

him!

he’s not the type of person to romanticize the person he loves

but he does accept you!

but as i said he loves you most for personality!

purely, truly—you

now let’s dabble back into the little gestures he’ll do to sway you once he realizes he loves you

for one like i said he’ll comb his hair in his fingers

and if he sees you find that attractive he’ll do it a little more around you

now keep in mind

your special

he doesn’t go around doing things like that for just anyone

no matter how small the change if it’s not beneficial he won’t do it

but this is beneficial

because he’s trying to court you ;)

he loves you, and he wants you to love him back now :)

but anyways

back on topic

he’ll also shrink his personal bubble around you

so now you can;

stand a little closer than normal

brush your fingers together

have your arms side by side

touch knees together when sitting

lay your head in his lap during movie night and he won’t say anything

(he wouldn’t pet your head but he’s not going to move you either)

rest your head on his shoulder as he does stuff/work (usually in private like when he’s planning his lessons on weekends)

speaking of that you can now come over unannounced and he’ll be glad to see you, ask you about your day, etc

back on topic to gestures he does,

his favors can get more personal,

like if you need to run errands but aren’t feeling well he’ll go shopping for you

(although i will say he doesn’t like shopping and has no idea what brands of products you normally buy he’ll do it to help you out)

he’ll also feel comfortable putting his arm on your shoulder (not around, on)

the gestures aren’t a lot because he isn’t the most cuddly guy (in my realistic headcanons)

but they mean something to you

AN: i tried to write canon aizawa more than fanon because it’s better that way to me but if anyone wants a little more cuddly/fanon aizawa i’d be happy to give it to them

i’m really happy with the way this turned out so i hope everyone can enjoy as well

ps: if you want specifically how he asks you out id love to do that (i might do it anyways 😋)

[aziraphales-library]

first off TYSM FOR THIS ACC AHH ITS BEEN SO HELPFULL <3

do you know any fics with touch-starved Crowley struggling to get used to the amount of affection Aziraphale shows him?

anyways love you all byee

We have a #touch starved tag that you will want to check out! Here are more fics to add to the collection...

Demons need hugs too by apeiiron (NR)

The thought of losing Aziraphale, his one constant, his one love, his everything, is too much to bear. Crowley wants to hold him more than anything, but he's too intimidated by the what-ifs to try. Aziraphale did it for him.

My Dear and Only Love by Sarah_hadeschild (G)

“I like your hands,” he said, plainly. Aziraphale huffed out a laugh. “Do you?” “‘Always have.” Aziraphale regarded him for a moment as recognition dawned on him. The things was, Crowley loved to grandstand. He loved to act braver than he was— more callous. That way, when things went awry, he had no one to blame for it but himself. Aziraphale knew this. And because of it, he knew that if he didn’t look out for Crowley’s heart, then no one would. AKA Thanks to a well-timed Valentine's gift, a touch-starved Crowley is about to get everything he desires. Well, almost everything.

Charred Feathers by KannaOphelia (T)

The wings burst through, a flurry of feathers and ripping fabric. “Damn. Thought they’d be enough room. That was a Tom Ford under-vest, would have cost me eighty quid if I’d actually bought it.” “Of course you stole it, you vile fiend,” Aziraphale said automatically, staring at Crowley’s well-groomed wings. They were black, and tidy, but it wasn’t a pure, midnight black. More a very dark, almost shabby grey, for all their beautiful condition. He was beginning to have a horrible suspicion about those wings. He reached out, and very gently brushed his fingertips through one, not letting any healing power through yet. “Made it. Y’know.” Crowley mimed snapping his fingers. “You’re wearing knock-off flannels?” Aziraphale demanded, tone high with outrage. He let his other hand come to the other wing, stepping closer, as Crowley snorted with laughter. Aziraphale had been right. Crowley’s feathers were smooth and perfect and undamaged, and at the same time, they were charred black by fire.

The Touch of Your Hand by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

After a moment of casual contact in Rome, Crowley realizes that he’s touch-starved. He dreams about holding Aziraphale’s hand or—even better—hugging him. But Aziraphale is an angel, and Crowley is a demon. And demons don’t deserve hand holding or hugs…do they?

Velocity by dragon_with_a_teacup (T)

Aziraphale can sense Affection whenever that emotion is near. Yet he has never looked for it within himself whenever Crowley is near. It should be impossible, an angel feeling such things for a demon; why, then, would it have occurred to him to look? Why would he have thought to analyze his bond with Crowley—a bond forged throughout the centuries through a convenient work arrangement—for anything beyond mere camaraderie? Yet now, his favorite angelic ability turns inward for the first time, and at last, he sees: He’s been such a fool.

An Exercise In Trust by organizechaos (T)

It’s been eleven years since Armageddon and Heaven and Hell have been conspiring to restart it. Meanwhile, Aziraphale and Crowley moved in together, got married, and are overall really happy. When their former bosses finally confront them — attacking with an object that will take centuries worth of memories from the ineffable pair — something goes a little wrong in the process… Crowley takes the full hit. (Basically, it’s just about +37,000 words worth of Crowley being a confused mess at why Aziraphale’s finally reciprocating his love)

- Mod D

[kaigarax]

"Anyways, I'm Falling In Love With You."

Sabito x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love by overcoming your preconceived notions of someone."

My Dearest,

I don’t do well in cold temperatures and I get sick easily. But I love autumn, even if this marks the end of another year of you being gone. Another autumn without you.

Yours Truly

---

Sabito was surprised when he heard the familiar sound of steel on ice when he entered the rink.

Of course, it was obvious that you would hear the sound of skates in an ice rink but this late at night? It wasn’t usual. Especially because the season for skaters had just started. Most skaters (hockey, figure and speed alike) only made it to the rink during the necessary practice times and gradually ramped it up as the season progressed. So to hear the sound of someone upon the ice this late at night was a pleasant surprise.

Sabito himself had been forced to head back to the rink after forgetting his bag. He usually would have left it but he’d forgotten his phone charger in the bag and wasn’t in the mood to play chicken with his phone’s battery.

So, after grabbing his bag, Sabito slowly made his way to the rink curious to see who was eager enough to find themselves on the ice this early into the season. While he did want to head home and soak in a nice long bath his curiosity won over. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d miss out on much soaking if he was to peek his head into the rink and see who was there.

It could have been a hockey player for all he knew, trying to get some shots up after a shabby practice. Or maybe one of the speed skaters trying to break in a new pair of skates for the season.

It wasn’t.

Sabito wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not to see you on the ice.

You were one of the newer skaters to the scene, seemingly taking the world by storm two years ago. From what Sabito had heard, you’d originally only come in as a replacement skater partner for one of the skaters that had gotten injured and surprised everyone by stealing the gold with your youthful charm and ultimately the starter position. Every tournament after that was an exciting opportunity to see how you’d one up yourself.

It was a shame that your partner would have to retire after only skating with you for a year and a half.

Well, it was a shame for you.

You kind of remind Sabito of a young child as he watches you skate. Filled with so much innocence and passion as you take to the ice.

Sabito, up to this point, hasn’t actually watched you skate. Of course he’s seen you skate through brief glances and highlights that they occasionally play on the television but he’s never actually stopped and waited to watch you skate before like he’s doing right now. Your movements are more fluid than he thought they were and the way you build up to your jumps is a little unorthodox but it seems to work as you soar through the air and spin.

A figure skater through and through.

“Oh, Sabito!” You jump slightly when you spot him leaning against the wall near the edge of the ice, watching you, “I didn’t notice. How long have you been there?”

Sabito feels a smile tug at the corner of his lips as he watches you skate towards him with a polite smile, “not long.”

Your cheeks flush, though from Sabito’s gaze or the cool air of the rink Sabito isn’t all too sure, “oh, do you want to skate?”

“Oh, no.” Sabito briefly looks down to the skates in his bag, “I just came back because I forgot my bag when I left earlier. I wasn’t expecting for anyone other than the janitor and security to be here.”

“The janitor crew usually finishes up around eight forty five.”

“And you’re still here?”

“Yeah.”

“Even after the coach told you to head home and to let your muscles rest?”

“You won’t snitch on me, will you? Coach said that I’ll be banned from late evening practice if she catches me skating late at night again.”

Your words bring a chuckle to Sabito’s lips, “and yet you’re still here?” From the fact that you’re here often enough to know when the janitorial staff usually finish up to the momentary panic you get when you discuss not being able to skate is more than enough for Sabito to tell how passionate you are about your profession.

You sheepishly scratch the back of your neck in response, “coach has a date tonight and the security staff and janitor crew like me enough to not tell coach.”

Sabito grins teasingly, “I suppose I won’t tell the coach.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” You smile brightly in response, “I’d be devastated if I got banned from practices again.”

“You love figure skating that much?” Sabito asks, a brow raised.

“Mm,” you give a little twirl as you ponder softly, “something like that.”

“I’m jealous.”

“Jealous?” You skate towards the railing separating the two of you lean against it, “why would you be jealous? We’re basically in the same position.”

Sabito finds your naive attitude strangely endearing, “there’s not many people that have as much as a passion for skating as you do. It’s honestly admirable.”

“Thank you,” you blush brightly looking away with an embarrassed smile on your face, “so are you planning to stay for a little while longer?”

“Well, I was planning on going home but I won’t mind staying a little longer.”

“Really?” You beam, “would you want to skate with me? There’s a few moves that I want to find out and I can’t really do them without a partner. I mean, you don’t have to skate with me if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you or anything but I would definitely be eternally grateful to you.”

Sabito feels as though his heart’s stopped as look at him eagerly, “you want me to skate with you?”

“Definitely! I watched you and your partner last year! The two of you were so in sync with one another! I could definitely feel the chemistry everytime you two took to the ice together. And the way you hold her so gently really goes to show how much the two of you trust one another while on the ice.” You blush as if suddenly realising what you’ve said.

Sabito’s own cheeks are flushed bright red as he stares at you.

He’d always thought you were a bit full of yourself if not a little aloof and standoffish when you talked to other figure skaters. But now, looking at you gushing and beaming over the simplest of things, Sabito feels as if his initial judgements might’ve been too harsh. Right now, you seem more like a playful and excitable girl that’s in love with figure skating instead of the stuck up prodigy that he’s pegged you to be up until now.

“Alright,” Sabito sighs as he takes a seat and begins to lace up his skates despite all of his muscles screaming for him to take a break, “I’ll skate with you.”

“Really!”

“But only for a bit.”

“Sounds good to me.” You say before skating off in excitement.

You twirl around on the ice in excitement that has Sabito chuckling slightly in amusement. He doubts he’s ever seen anyone as excited to skate as you.

How had he gotten such an impression of you in the first place? Sabito finds himself feeling a little bad for how bad he had thought of you before with most of his opinions and thoughts coming from what he had heard others say about you. It didn’t help that the impression you gave off to others was more rude and arrogant than the socially awkward person that Sabito saw you as now.

Slowly, after some brief stretching, Sabito steps out onto the ice, his skates fully laced up and his jacket left tossed on the ground.

You skate towards Sabito smoothly when you notice him, reminding him more of an eager puppy.

It’s cute.

You’re cute.

“What’re you thinking about trying out?” Sabito asks.

“Hmm, nothing too difficult. Maybe we could try out a few side by side jumps and…” you trail off.

“And?”

“A death spiral?”

Sabito laughs, “a death spiral? I thought you said you wanted to do something easy.”

“Okay, you’re right.” You blush brightly, “that was stupid. But we can try some side by side jumps, right?”

“Sure,” Sabito smiles softly, “let’s try it out.”

“I’m surprised you decided to skate with me.” You say, skating backwards as Sabito begins to find his bearings. He skates forward as he begins his usual warmups. Sabito finds it a little annoying how easy you make it seem as you traverse the rink as if it’s your second home but pushes his annoyance away. It’s not a feeling befitting of a man. Or just any person in general.

Sabito laughs, “what kind of man would I be if I were to deny a request from a young woman in need?”

You hum contemplatively, “I didn’t think you’d liked me very much.”

Sabito’s expression falters for a moment.

You weren’t exactly wrong.

He, truthfully, wasn’t your biggest fan. Not just had you come out of nowhere but you were three years his junior in terms of skating and a few more younger than him in age. It was honestly a little infuriating how someone so young and green could suddenly come up and win something he had been trying to win for ages.

Not only had Sabito taken silver in the doubles skating competition the year you won gold but his partner had subsequently chosen to retire after watching you skate. Sure, she was a few years past her prime but it was honestly a little infuriating that all those chemistry bonding practices had gone to waste. Now Sabito was left struggling to find someone to partner up with him in time for them to both develop chemistry and a good routine.

“I…” Sabito trails off.

You laugh softly, as you continue to skate backwards, “right on the money, huh?”

“You’re different.” Sabito says suddenly.

“Hm?” You tilt your head to the side cutely, “I’m different?”

“You’re different from when you’re on the ice to when you’re not.”

“Oh. Thank you?”

“You’re kind of like a child trying to impress their crush when you’re on the ice.”

You blush brightly in response, almost stumbling over yourself, “pardon?”

“You’re a lot brighter while on the ice. You command a lot more attention and have a larger presence in general.”

“A larger presence?”

“Um,” Sabito feels his cheeks heat up, “I guess it’s kind of like you shine while skating.”

“Thank you,” you smile brightly, “you’re the second person to have told me that.”

His treacherous heart skips a beat at your smile and he hopes you don’t notice the sweat in his hands as he gives you a nice and simple twirl.

The touch between the two of you feels almost electric and the movements come so nice and easily. Sabito wonders if this is how skating with another person is supposed to feel. He’s skated with many other people but nothing has ever felt quite like this. He suddenly finds himself understanding why the skating world seems so enamoured with you. Not just does everything feel suddenly easier but Sabito feels as though the world is at his fingertips.

“So,” Sabito begins, feeling butterflies begin to rouse in his stomach, “how has finding a new figure skating partner been?”

“Oh,” you look down to the ice, your face flushed red slightly, “it’s been going. How has it been going for you? You recently just got partnered up with…”

“We tried a few practices together,” Sabito begins, “but it ended up not working out very well.”

“No?”

“Yeah. We just didn’t really have a lot of chemistry with each other.”

You smile, “well I’m sure you’ll find someone that meshes well with you.”

Sabito twirls you around before pulling you close, “yeah.”

You look up at him surprised at his sudden movements.

“Have I ever told you that I think you’re pretty?” Sabito asks suddenly as he leans in close.

“Ah, no,” you look away with flushed cheeks and this time he’s sure isn’t because of the cold or you bring out of breath, “I don’t think so.”

“Well you are.”

“You’re pretty too.”

Sabito laughs, “ah, thank you~”

---

After an hour of skating with you Sabito relearns why it’s so important for athletes to take breaks. He most definitely is going to be sore beyond belief tomorrow morning. Despite only doing simple exercises you really managed to push him to the max with how you challenged him to increase the velocity or his turns to the frequency in which he completed his jumps.

He could definitely see why it was so hard for you to find someone to partner up with.

Despite being well intentioned you had the tendency to push people past their limits. And with how bright eyed you were, it made it difficult to say no. Not that Sabito would ever say no. He wouldn’t be able to call himself a man if he backed down from a challenge.

But his body would definitely be screaming at him later.

But how could he have known that he’d end up delaying his cool bath by an hour?

You, on the other hand, looked like you could keep skating forever. Not physically, of course, but even then Sabito suspected if anyone could it would have been you.

“So,” Sabito leaned against the wall, watching as you slowly unlaced your skates (having already unlaced his own a few minutes earlier), “do you want to grab a bite to eat with me?” Your lack of an immediate response caused Sabito to second guess himself, suddenly feeling embarrassed as he watched you slowly unlace your skates. Sabito begins to ramble in hopes of making himself look like less of a fool, “I mean, you definitely don't have to if you don’t want to. I totally get it. There’s not a lot of places open right now and it’s not like we’re that close anyways. I could end up being a total weirdo. Not that I am a weirdo of course it’s just that-”

You cut him off with a small laugh, “don’t worry. I don’t think you’re a weirdo, I was just a little lost in my own thoughts. I’d love to go out to eat. What did you have in mind?”

“Well there’s the bar down the street that serves food if you’re up for it. Or there’s truck food if you’re up for it. I know that truck food isn’t actually good for your diet but…”

“Take me wherever you’d like.” You smile in a way that makes Sabito’s heart start to race, “I’m not a picky eater. You should pick the place we go out since you’re the one that agreed to skate with me despite being sore.”

“You noticed?”

You tilt your head to the side, “don’t most people?”

“No,” Sabito laughs heartily, “definitely not. Just you, sweetheart.”

You blush brightly in response, “is it weird?”

“No. I actually find it rather endearing.”

You visibly brighten at his words.

“It’s pretty neat that you notice those kinds of things about the person you’re skating with. I’m sure whoever your skating partner ends up being will be a very lucky person. You’re a gold medalist afterall” Sabito added, nudging you playfully as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m sure whoever your partner ends up being will be really lucky too!” You say, “you’re a… silver medalist?”

“Wow.” Sabito says dryly, a smile on his face, “way to rub it in.”

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it! I really do think you’re an incredible skater!”

“I’m only teasing, sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

Sabito nudges you lightly again before opening the door to the building and letting you out before him, “so do you have early morning practice tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “you?”

“Mhm. Do you wanna partner up with me tomorrow?”

“Really?” You practically bounce in excitement, “you want to partner up with me?”

“Well it’s certainly worth a try, right? We did well today so I don’t see any harm in seeing how we mesh tomorrow.”

“You won’t tell the coach about tonight though, right?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head off, sweetheart. I won’t.”

“Oh, thank goodness! The last thing I need to do is be banned from the ice again.”

“The season just began.”

“Well you never know,” you begin, “last time it was nearing competition time when the coach banned me from the night hours on the ice because I wanted to switch up the ending of the routine.”

“I mean, that’s kind of reasonable.”

You pout, “you’re supposed to be on my side, Sabito.”

“I am,” he chuckles, “I just also happen to see reason.”

“I’m reasonable.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

“I am!” You exclaim, crossing your arms like an angry child.

“Anyways,” Sabito smiles warmly, “I’m falling in love with you.”

Fall in love by overcoming your preconceived notions of someone.

---

Her: Are you sure you love me?

[slythepuffle]

Here’s a one-shot inspired by @dismissivedestroyer’s Dexter Lives AU! I hope I’m doing it justice. I’m planning on doing one for Tender Treats too if this one does well. Set during Unwanted Guest. TW for Demonic Possession and Demonic Throw-Up

Lila struggled against the grasp of the possessed exterminator, wheezing and gasping as the air was squeezed from her lungs. He was saying something about – Killing her and leaving her alive, somehow – when she heard the door open and she could feel a spark of hope – Maybe this person could help?

“MOM!” her son’s voice cried out, and her hope dropped, replaced with panic. She opened an eye, looking at the door where her son and his friend stood. They were both grinning happily, having not yet realized the carnage inside the house. “Can we–?”

He trailed off, taking a moment to take in the whole scene – His mom, being held up in the air by what appeared to be a floating yellow demon, with broken wood and glass shards scattered across the floor. “Uhhh…”

“K-Kids!” she called, hoping the pause would give them time to go and get help. She didn’t get the chance to, as she was suddenly thrown away as the demon snarled, “You two! You–!”

It went on a rant about being left in the attic for two years – Oh, so that’s what was making those sounds – but she wasn’t really paying attention to it. She was desperately trying to find something that would help – A weapon, a phone, a distraction, anything that could be helpful – when she saw the pieces of her ruler.

She had used it to try and fight the demonic being earlier, but it hadn’t really helped, resulting in it breaking into two pieces. An idea popped into her head, and she hastily rearranged the pieces, whirling back to where the demon hovered over the two boys. She shouted, accidentally interrupting the boys arguing, “T-The power of Christ compels you!”

“We are having an exorcism!” the two boys cheered once they saw what she had made, the argument already forgotten. It was a very badly made cross, both pieces shaking as she held it up in the air. The demon whirled around, eyes narrowed as it considered the terrified woman and her shabby defense.

“You think that’s going to work on me?” it snarled, flexing the dangerous yellow claws at the tips of the gloved hands. Lila, though terrified, glared back, commanding in a less shaky tone. “Get out of that body! It’s not yours! The power of Christ compels you!”

It sneered, advancing on her, before suddenly pausing. It could feel the body’s stomach suddenly churning, an almost sickly feeling rising up the throat. It growled under his breath – So the cross did work. Very weakly, but still. Bah, this isn’t worth it. It needed more strength. Perhaps a new host as well.

It turned back to the two boys, who were happily singing back Lila’s words, unaware of their danger. Both or either would do – They were chaotic little brats that could be useful to its endeavors. They owed it anyway – They were the ones who summoned it, so now they had to be the ones who dealt with it.

The woman behind it was still chanting, using her semi-functional cross as it glared at the smiling, oblivious boys. It snarled and then shot out of the body, a black sludge firing out of the mask’s nozzle and straight for them–

That’s when Dexter woke up.

~~~~

Now, Dexter had no idea what the fuck just happened.

The last thing he remembered was being in the attic, preparing a trap for the little pest hiding in the nice lady’s house, when he suddenly turned around and jumped by what appeared to be a red demon.

He was an exterminator, not a priest. The hell was he supposed to do against it?!

Dexter would worry about that later. Right now though, he was focused on the disgusting, sticky feeling coating the inside of his mask and clinging to his throat, choking him. He gasped and heaved, fingers clawing at the base of his neck as he tried to take off his mask. He was able to get it off, and threw it off to the side somewhere, hacking out the sludge-like substance from his throat.

He could feel someone hitting his back, most likely trying to help him out, while also spewing out panicked and hurried apologies. He didn’t focus on that, eyes still squeezed shut, wheezing as he digested the events that had just gone down. The person hitting his back stopped, helping him to his feet and leading him somewhere else.

“I’m so so sorry about that!” Lila continued, her expression guilty as she led Dexter over to the kitchen and helped sit him down in a seat. He continued coughing, listening as she limped towards the fridge and poured a glass of water, pressing it into his hand. “Here, drink this, it will help.”

“Hey, Mom!” a kid in a skeleton costume – Wasn’t it June? – yelled, poking into the kitchen. Another kid poked his head in, this one wearing a pumpkin costume. “Can we watch something?”

“Sure, kids!” she replied, still looking at Dexter with a motherly look of worry. It reminded him of his own mom – Geez, he needed to call her after this, she was probably worried out of her mind. He realized that she was waiting for him to drink, and he quickly took a sip of water, almost sighing in relief as the liquid passed through his throat. Right, manners. He still had those. 

“T-Thank you, ma’am,” he mumbled, scratching at his face with his other hand. He felt a bit naked without his mask, but he had no idea where he had thrown it in the living room. She beamed at him and he glanced away, sipping at the water again. “It’s no problem! I hope you’re feeling alright, I really am sorry for what happened, I had no idea that it wasn’t a rat up there–”

“It’s fine, ma’am,” he interrupted, not wanting her to continue rambling. “At least it’s gone now, right?”

She nodded, reassured at the moment, before bustling around the kitchen, leaving him to quietly and awkwardly sip at his water. Well, this was an incredibly weird and rather fucked up day. But at least he’s still alive! He couldn’t wait to go home and–

His vision was suddenly filled with white and orange, two pairs of eyes blinking at him. “Hi!”

“Holy–!” Dexter leaped back, biting back the curse that lingered on his tongue. Children. He didn’t have much exchanges with them and he was a bit wary of interacting with them, more for their sake than for his. Especially given his… thoughts…

He blinked at them, awkwardly silent, and they blinked back, still smiling innocently. “Uhh… hi?”

“Do you want to watch with us, Not-Moloch?” the skeleton kid chirped. He tilted his head, eyebrows creased in confusion. “Uhhh… I’m Dexter. Not… not-moloch?”

“Oh,” the skeleton kid said simply. The pumpkin kid grinned at him. “I am Pump! This is Skid. Do you want to watch with us, Dexter?”

“Uhhhh.” He glanced back at Lila. She still seemed preoccupied, doing whatever she was doing in the kitchen. His eyes darted back to the children, still beaming at him brightly, waiting for his answer. Damnit, he couldn’t say no when they looked at him like that– “Sure?”

The two children cheered, taking him by his gloved hands and dragging him to the living room. He nearly tripped over himself with how fast they were pulling him, and let out a small ‘oomph’ when the two of them pushed him onto the couch. He let them, watching them silently as they took places on the floor to continue watching.

“Hey, Mr. Dexter?” the skeleton kid – Skid – suddenly asked, drawing his attention. “What were you doing in my house?”

“Oh – I’m an exterminator. Your mom asked me to get rid of a rat in your attic,” he mumbled in response, fidgeting in his place on the couch. The two turned to look at him with unblinking gazes, unnerving him slightly, before Pump asked, “How do you get rid of rats?”

Dexter blinked. That’s… not what he was expecting to be asked. “Uhh… Well, before I can get rid of them, first I have to catch them. There are a lot of different ways, but I prefer using insect traps. They tend to work better than the usual mouse traps because of the sticky layer. Makes it a lot harder to move.” 

The exterminator’s tone took on a bit of cheeriness as he continued, relaxing on the couch. “I’ll lay them out on the floor and add some cheese to it, to lure the rats in. When they step on the trap to try and get the cheese, they won’t be able to escape, no matter how hard they try. Then I take the rat and I–”

He cut himself off. He was rambling, and he knew if he were to continue he would scare them. He waited for them to go silent, to look away from him and go back to watching TV or–

“That sounds so cool!” Pump cheered, grinning as he looked at Skid, who nodded in agreement with a similar look on his face. “It’s super spooky! What else do you do?”

Dexter stared at them, confused. What? They… weren’t weirded out by it? He scanned their expression again, expecting disgust or worry or something else generally negative, only to see nothing but eager curiosity. They… really weren’t afraid. They were actually excited, judging by their expressions.

He opened his mouth to say something. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again, but was interrupted by Lila coming in. She was smiling, holding a plate of snacks and placing it down in front of them. “Here you are! Sorry for the wait, kiddos. Oh! Dexter, here’s your mask.”

She handed said mask to him, continuing to speak as he absently thumbed at the rubber. “I decided to clean it up for you, seeing as there was still some of that nasty sludge on the inside for you. Hope it helps.”

“Thank you very much, ma’am,” he mumbled, briefly peering into the mask. She really did clean it. That was… nice of her. She smiled at him. “It’s no problem! And you don’t have to call me ma’am. You can just call me Lila!”

“Uhh… Alright then, ma– Miss Lila,” Dexter corrected, slipping on his mask. He felt more comfortable with it on rather than off. Even if these people were really nice and actually seemed interested in what he was saying or doing– He abruptly stood up, causing the two kids to look up from their snacks.

“Is something wrong, Dexter?” Lila asked in concern, but he quickly shook his head in response. Putting on a chipper tone, he answered, “Everything’s great Miss Lila! But I’m afraid that I have to go. A lot of jobs, you know?”

That was a lie. This was his last job of the day and he doubted that anyone would need his services this late at night. In truth, he just wanted to go over and analyze the day by himself, without confusing distractions. The children let out a bout of complaints over it, wanting to hear more about his job, but Lila shushed them. “Now, now kids, we don’t want Mr. Dexter to get in trouble, do we?”

Skid and Pump shook their heads immediately. She nodded, and then guided Dexter to the door, digging through her pockets as she did. “Thank you again for your help tonight. I know it wasn’t exactly your normal job.”

She opened up the door and he stepped out, pointedly looking away from the sky. Lila stayed at the door, but offered her hand out to him and– Wow that was a lot of cash. “Here’s your payment!”

“I–I can’t take this!” Dexter spluttered, trying to push it back into her hands. But she shook her head, pressing it into his hands. “Tonight was a lot and I insist you get paid double for your troubles.”

Dexter tried to protest, but Lila wasn’t taking no for an answer, so he gave up. Pocketing the money, he smiled at her weakly. “Thank you for your hospitality tonight, Miss Lila.”

She nodded, smiling. “Of course! If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.”

The two kids suddenly popped out from behind her, shooting him wide happy grins. 

“Come back soon!” Pump chirped. Skid nodded happily, adding, “Yeah! Tell us more spooky facts next time!”

Dexter swallowed, returning their enthusiasm with a weak grin and nod. “A-Alright, kids. See you!”

He stumbled down to his truck, settling in before driving off with a wave to the house. Today was… definitely something. But, despite the whole ‘demonic possession’ situation, he didn’t mind it. Thinking back on it, the memories of their kindness lingering in his mind, made him smile. 

Yeah, he didn’t mind it at all.

[saxamophone]

wip snip

Thanks to @academicdisasterfic for tagging me in their laugh-out-loud-i'm-deceased wip snip (Bottoms x Drarry, swoon).

I'm in the middle of three things right now. There's The Big Thing (wip snip below, you can skip the rest of this paragraph if you want) that I needed a break from. I'm at the dreaded halfway point were plot lines need to start actually making sense, and wanted to clear the cobwebs by writing some fun little side fics. Under 5k. Sexy. Easy. Next thing I know, I'm 10k deep in a Dreville fic about them falling in love and a Drarry hookup piece that somehow has me researching the cult of Apollo, Ezekiel's descriptions of angels, the Green Man, and Beltane rituals. Like, can't everyone just f**k in peace?

Anyway, The Big Thing is a Wolfstar fic ---Aftermath of October 31, 1981, Remus gets Harry and, whoops, Regulus is alive and supposed to help him. They hate each other, but maybe they can get along well enough to break Sirius out of prison. Maybe.

Also f**k Dumbledore.

Opening bit:

“No.” Remus tries to close the door.  “Remus,” he says kindly, and it’s almost more than he can bear.  “Go away,” Remus grits out, pushing the door, and it won’t close. It won’t budge, and Dumbledore isn’t even holding it open on his side of the jamb. He didn’t say a spell either, the fucker, and the door is stuck open, unmoving, and nothing Remus does will change it unless Dumbledore wants it to change.  He realises in this moment that the door is a metaphor for his whole miserable life, stuck where Albus Dumbledore decides, but he can’t address that right now. It’s too much to contemplate after everything else, so he decides the least he can do is close the fucking door.  Remus throws his shoulder into it. He’s always strong, but his strength will increase as the frost moon approaches. His tall, lanky build belies the monster beneath.    “Remus,” Dumbledore says again quietly.  Remus ignores him and throws his shoulder into the door. The fucking door that won’t fucking close. He slams his shoulder into it so hard the frame rattles, grunting at the blow.  “Go away,” he growls. He feels it, the wolf inside. Always lurking but more insistent now. Since everything. “Go away!” Remus shouts and smashes into the door, almost splitting it. It hurts, but it feels good, too.  The damaged door still doesn’t move, and Remus is properly angry now. He’s been numb for days, ever since he found out…ever since…he squeezes his eyes closed and tries to shut out the memory of finding out about James and Lily and Peter. And— “No!” he bellows, and he’s about to give the door one great shove when, suddenly, he’s yanked back as if an invisible rope is attached to his spine. He scrabbles for purchase, trying to grab hold of the hall table or the reception archway. He can’t get a hand on anything before he finds himself deposited on a sagging floral sofa, sitting upright but unable to move, arms pinned to his sides.  Dumbledore glides into the room after him, and Remus can hear the front door close with an offensive little click. He tries to wriggle out of whatever invisible binds he’s in and can’t. His wand is in his back pocket, useless.  He scowls as Dumbledore sits in a chair across from him, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. His blue eyes are red-rimmed behind his half-moon glasses, and he’s wearing a Muggle suit—brown plaid print and a bit shabby, a bit too large on Dumbledore’s thin frame. And that’s when it hits Remus—All of this is true. It’s not some nightmare he’s lived in for the last five days like he keeps hoping.

Five days. He’s been cooped up here in Milton Keynes, waiting for five fucking days. His arrival triggered the mora protocol when he opened the door. The protocol that meant they were compromised and to stay put. Don’t move. The Order will be in touch. And finally, after five days, Frank Longbottom showed up, his big eyes sad, and his voice low. He’d told Remus what had happened, and it didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be real. It was all a big mistake. Someone had made a mistake.  But he’s immobile on an ugly floral sofa, and he knows. It’s all real, and it happened, and it’s still happening, and Albus Dumbledore is wearing a brown plaid Muggle suit, and Remus’s life as he knows it is over. 

Tagging @geesenoises @citrusses @tackytigerfic @arminaa8 @maesterchill @romaine2424 @skeptiquex if you have anything you'd like to share! No pressure!

[recoveringdreamer]

TIMING: current LOCATION: mini golf course (probably not haunted?) PARTIES: @debauchfairy & @recoveringdreamer SUMMARY: felix and kieran embark on a minigolf date. the whole 'cursed to speak in rhymes' things threatens to make it go... less than great. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

When they were a kid, before their father moved them into the woods and the whole world had changed, Felix got it into their head that they wanted to learn how to juggle. They’d gathered all the oranges from the kitchen — their sister wouldn’t let them use her softballs — and began tossing them up into the air, confident that this would be easy for them. And when every single orange dropped to the ground and rolled away, bruised and dirty, they’d realized that ‘catlike reflexes’ might have been just a little overstated.

They’d never gotten much better at juggling. It wasn’t just oranges they struggled with, either; it was kind of everything. Literal juggling, like with the oranges, but metaphorical juggling, too. They struggled to maintain a personal life alongside their ‘career,’ had a hard time remembering to do simple things like respond to messages and make plans. And they were starting to get better at it, they really were… but then they got cursed. With rhymes.

Classic. 

Still, they were determined not to break the plans they’d made with Kieran, because they liked Kieran. He was cool and fun and confident, and sometimes hanging out with him made Felix feel cool and fun and confident, too. They just had to hope he wouldn’t notice the whole rhyming thing. Maybe it wasn’t as noticeable as they thought it was! Maybe they could keep it on the DL. Maybe.

“Hey, Kieran,” they greeted with a smile as he approached. “How have you been, man?”

—

Mini golf was a first. Kieran didn’t mind - for someone who had already blown through a lot of different firsts, it was always a nice change. Sure, maybe not the thrilling environment he was used to but the weather wasn’t too shabby and there was a general sense of enjoyment at this place. Pure and innocent, sure, but invigorating all the same. And turning down Felix’s idea while trying to build a rapport was definitely the wrong way to go. Why exactly that was his mission, to get to know someone who held back on their whims (well, mostly) and had the self-esteem of an orange, Kieran wasn’t quite sure. There was something there, buried deeper, maybe. 

And besides, why did anyone do anything? For the hell of it felt like a good enough reason. 

He’d dressed down for today, as much as he could anyway, well aware that the tight black pants flattered him. Plus, it was sunny out so no one could blame him for leaving a few buttons open on the soft lemon striped shirt. With the watch and shoes that could probably pay this place’s entire salary for a week, Kieran didn’t exactly fit in but that was never the intention. Standing out was so much better. 

Felix trotted inside, already looking much less nervous than last time, and Kieran returned the smile - even if a quirked eyebrow accompanied it at the greeting. “Hey yourself… dude,” he replied, a slight chuckle in his voice. Not exactly a greeting fit for someone who had done the things Kieran had done to Felix last time, but he digressed. “Fair warning, I have never done this before and if I don’t instantly excel at it, I might get a bit moody.”

—

Kieran looked nice, and Felix was beginning to get the impression that he just kind of always did. Felix felt underdressed by comparison, their rumpled button-up and black jeans having felt appropriate when they’d dressed in the corner of the boiler room but a little less than what they probably should have gone with. They almost apologized, but they stopped themself. Kieran, they thought, didn’t want that from them. That was part of what they liked about Kieran. He just wanted them to be comfortable.

Which… Felix rarely was, these days. Or any days, really, but especially these ones. Between the boiler room and the whole rhyme curse hanging over his head, comfort was pretty far in the rear view mirror. This seemed proven when Kieran responded to their greeting with a similarly strange one, and Felix shifted their weight. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to make things weird,” they said, smiling and rubbing awkwardly at the back of their neck. “I just started talking, and all my thoughts kind of… disappeared. That happens a lot. Smooth, I am not.” Aaaand now they were talking like Yoda! This definitely proved the ‘not smooth’ point. They didn’t even think they could blame it on the curse — Felix was just like this. Awkward. Uncomfortable. Bad at conversation.

But, hey, things moved forward. Kieran had never played mini golf and Felix had, and maybe that meant they’d be on something resembling equal footing here. “I could teach you how to play,” they offered. “I mean, you probably know, but — god, I have no idea what I’m trying to say. I’m sorry, I guess we both know I’m not great at… this. The whole thing’s kind of hit or miss.”

—

Compared to their last meeting, Felix instantly seemed more vocal. A sign of decreased tension, sure, except… Kieran’s head was cocked, an expression of mixed amusement and confusion on his face. There hadn’t been that much rhyming last time, that much he was sure of. Shit, not any rhyming once you discounted the singing. If this was a way to stave off nerves which honestly, who got more nervous after they’d been intimate - it was indeed a weird one. In their defense, the faun was a force to be reckoned with and stranger behavior had occurred. Kieran didn’t mind oddballs, at least they were interesting but he did wonder how long it would take for the rhyming to get old. Maybe they’d simmer down once the initial nerves wore off. One way to find out. 

“I can be smooth enough for the both of us,” Kieran decided, slinging an arm around Felix’s waist to lead them inside. At least he wasn’t bored. Yet. This was an… interesting place for a second date, Kieran thought as a depressed looking teenager handed over some clubs and very colorful golf balls, seeming about as confused about their presence here as the faun was. Holding out the golf balls for Felix to pick a color, Kieran swung the flimsy club lazily as they walked towards the first hole pointed out to them. A child holding an ice cream currently fighting for its life, half of it spread over the child’s fingers and face, approached at record speed and he made sure to avoid contact and then some. That was not the kind of sticky he went for. 

“Alright, show me how it’s done,” he encouraged with a lazy smile, letting Felix take charge on the first hole, amidst the fake grass and slightly worn down wooden decorations. 

—

Kieran didn’t call out the strange verbal tick, and Felix was glad for it. They were nervous enough without having to explain the stupidity with which they’d gotten themself cursed by buying an ugly orange egg. They didn’t think Kieran would laugh in their face or anything — they liked to think he’d proven himself to be too kind for something like that — but they were a little worried he might think they were stupid. Not loudly, not in a cruel way, but in the privacy of his own mind. It wouldn’t be a terrible thing to think, Felix thought. It was mostly true, anyway. 

They smiled, a little of that relief shining through, as Kieran announced that he’d handle the ‘smooth’ part of the evening. “Well, that’s a relief,” Felix chuckled, some of the tension falling out of their shoulders. “Otherwise, this would probably be brief.” They collected the clubs from the bored employee, flashing a small, grateful smile. As Kieran held out the balls, Felix picked the blue one and made their way towards the first hole.

They’d read online that mini golf was a good ‘activity date.’ According to the internet, ‘activity dates’ were the best kind for two people only just beginning to get to know one another. Dinner could be filled with too many awkward silences, while movies had the opposite problem of limited communication. Activity dates, according to the article Felix pored over at two in the morning half-panicked, allowed you to both avoid awkward silences and still carry on a conversation. 

Felix had not been cursed with rhymes when they’d decided that carrying on a conversation was important. Maybe if they had been, they’d have gone with the movie. 

“Okay!” Felix came to a stop at the tee-off point, holding their club a little too tightly. “Let’s play! So, um, you want to hold your club just like this.” He demonstrated, loosening the grip a little and standing carefully. It should be noted, perhaps, that while Felix had played mini golf before, it had been a while. They weren’t really an expert, even if they knew more than Kieran did. Still, they’d watched a dozen YouTube videos in the hours leading up to the agreed upon time to meet Kieran, so they thought they would be fine. “And it’s okay if you miss! You might not hit it every time, and that’s totally fine.” They reared back carefully, then moved their club forward to hit the ball and send it rolling in a straight line towards the hole. It circled the hole, but didn’t go in. Felix was a little disappointed. They liked to think Kieran would have been impressed with a hole-in-one.

“So, that’s how you start,” they announced. “And I… don’t really have any more wisdom to impart. So, um, it’s your turn! I guess… you can show me how well you learn.” The small smile that accompanied the poor attempt at flirting might have been more charming, Felix thought, without the rhyming curse.

Ah, well. So it went.

—

They really were precious. The thought was somewhere between genuinely appreciative and a bit patronizing, the smile on his face mirroring that. Kieran couldn’t imagine going through life with the confidence of a dirty rug but there was something interesting about simply… observing it. Curiosity had brought him back, too - part of him wanted to understand why Felix was that way, not to mention if it had anything to do with the scars his fingers had traced along last time. All of that was irrespective of the feeding. Felix was an easy feed but then again, so were a lot of other people. Whatever, he didn’t care to look much deeper into it, much too focused on Felix explaining the concept of golf to him like he was a small child. Again, precious. And a solid distraction from the rhyming still taking place.

“I’m usually more of a teacher,” Kieran replied without missing a beat, smile much brighter than Felix’s and accompanied with a wink. He took his position, glancing over at Felix with an expression of ‘I’m honestly not sure why I’m here but I guess I’m amused by it’, before taking his shot. The ball veered, bonking straight into one of the wooden blocks successfully acting as a barrier, and rolled back to about a single foot from where it had started. He cocked an eyebrow, turning back to his date with a look of bemused offense. “Think I need some more hands-on tutoring.”

—

This was actually going really, really well, Felix thought. Kieran hadn’t mentioned the rhyming curse at all. It was like he didn’t even notice! The relief was just a little overwhelming, to the point that it almost certainly showed in the balam’s bright grin. But, they thought, Kieran probably wouldn’t care much about that, either. Kieran was laid back and cool, two things which Felix was decidedly not. It added a certain layer of comfort to the whole exchange, made it a little easier for Felix to relax. 

They let out a little laugh at Kieran’s wink, ears burning just a little. But, whereas that feeling usually came with the mocking jeers of the handlers at the Grit Pit, today’s variety was more of a pleasant thing. Felix didn’t mind it much. Watching Kieran’s ball go wide, Felix tried not to laugh. “Okay, so maybe it’s a little harder than it looks,” they allowed. “But, hey, as far as first tries go, I think that’s one for the books! I could… give you a little more help, if that’s okay? Uh, you know, stand behind you and guide your arms like… a total cliche.” 

—

Felix was enjoying themselves, obviously, Kieran was a delight but… the faun wasn’t hating this, either. Sure, this was much more toned down than his usual scene and filled with rhyming and he was definitely wondering if this place was too family friendly to serve some cocktails. But it wasn’t the worst. Felix was cute and happy and would provide for a decent snack later on but for now, Kieran would be damned if he was going to suck at something as simple as mini golf. 

“I don’t mind a cliche if it comes with physical contact,” Kieran hummed with a grin, reaching down to reset the colorful ball before gesturing for Felix to make good on their suggestion. “You know,” he started as the other got into position, letting them rearrange his grip on the comically small golf club. “I am going to have to ask about the rhyming at some point. Much too curious not to.” It felt safer to ask while there was no eye contact, while Felix wasn’t being scrutinized by what some people had described as an intimidating gaze. Kieran couldn’t help that he had gorgeous yet intense eyes. 

—

Sliding up behind Kieran, Felix tried to pretend that they were… smooth and unflappable instead of themself. But Kieran had made it clear that he didn’t mind Felix being themself, and they tried to remind themself of as much as they wrapped their arms around him and placed their hands on top of his. Was this okay, or was it awkward? What was Kieran thinking now? Part of Felix wished they knew, another part was too afraid to ask.

They concentrated on the club, shifting Kieran’s hands into position and gently pulling his arms back to prepare a put. And then, Kieran mentioned the rhyming, and Felix fumbled. They accidentally swung their hands — and Kieran’s by extension — forward a little too hard, sending the ball flying up and out, over the barrier. “I was… kind of hoping you hadn’t noticed it,” they admitted, almost sheepishly. “That was probably kind of stupid on my part, I’ll admit. Um, would you believe me if I said I was cursed? I’m still trying to figure out how to get it reversed.”

—

The ball bounced away pathetically, slowing to a stopway outside of the course. So maybe distracting the supposed teacher was not the way to go if Kieran wanted the stupid ball to go where it was supposed to. “If there’s one thing I do, dear Felix, it’s notice things,” he explained calmly, slipping his hands out from under Felix’s to turn and face them, palms resting on their hips as he cocked his head. A curse? Had some fae with a twisted sense of humor and penchant for literal word games gotten to Felix? Maybe it wasn’t surprising that they would be easily snatched into a bind - Kieran could have wrapped the other up in promise after promise with all the thank yous and less than careful wording. Kieran didn’t because he was nice. Mostly. 

“I believe you,” Kieran replied without hesitation, both because it was believable and also since Felix had no reason to lie. He wasn’t even sure they could lie properly and if they could, why lie about this? One hand moved to gently tilt Felix’s chin up, to make that sheepish gaze meet his own. “Do you know how? Or who?” he pushed, wondering if there was someone out there that needed to be told to back off. At least while Kieran was still interested. “It’s impressive, don’t get me wrong, but I definitely liked you better without the rhymes.”

—

Of course Kieran had noticed. It wasn’t as if the rhyming was a subtle thing, though part of Felix wondered if they could have made it more subtle if they were a little smarter. Maybe if they knew more words, if they were more creative, if they weren’t as stupid as they were… Of course, if they weren’t as stupid as they were, they probably wouldn’t have been cursed to begin with, would they? This was the sort of thing that didn’t happen to people with more… awareness. Sure, a few others had been caught up in it, but only because Felix had taken too long to figure out what was causing it, or because Felix hadn’t been able to get a warning out in time to keep them from cursing themselves, too. 

At least Kieran didn’t think they were lying about the cause. Relief flooded through them, and they offered him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks,” they murmured, looking him in the eye as he tilted their head up. “I was worried you might think it was a prank.” That wasn’t something they’d do to Kieran, or to anyone, really. Pranks, to Felix, often felt cruel, even when they weren’t intended to be so. “I think it’s less of a who and more of a what. I mean, I guess there could be someone behind it, but…” They trailed off with a shrug. “I bought an… egg thing at a thrift store. Um, I just moved into a new space, and I was trying to brighten it up a little more. But I knew the woman who was running the thrift store, and I guess I panicked? So I grabbed the first thing I saw, paid for it, and vanished. But I guess anyone who touches this egg gets the curse. And, like, it could definitely be worse! Mostly, it’s just annoying. But it’s not like it’s sending me out to do destroying?” That one wasn’t even grammatically correct, was it? Felix winced a little, offering Kieran a smile that, this time, was almost apologetic. “I like me better without the rhyming, too. But I’m glad it doesn’t… bother you.”

—

Felix looked a bit pained at having been caught out, or maybe just to be cursed in the first place, and it really was impossible not to feel some empathy for them. Normally, people made their own messes and Kieran was more than happy to scoff and imagine the situation could have been avoided with some smarter decision making - hypocritical beyond belief, Kieran was not known for his sensible choices. Somehow, Felix managed to inspire just that bit of pity and it was only mildly patronizing. Partly, the faun was curious about this mystery ex who was presumably responsible for all this damage and he wondered how much of it could be undone with the right kind of attention. Humans were mostly disposable, sure, but Kieran couldn’t imagine going out of his way to break one down into the nervous wreck that was Felix. What the hell was there to gain from that?

“I find it very hard to imagine you pulling a prank,” Kieran mused, making a mental note to have a chat with Felix about the endless thank-yous at a later time. Even though it seemed their current predicament had nothing to do with a fae bind. Kieran’s eyebrows raised at the description of this cursed egg, unable to resist an amused smile. As far as curses went, it definitely could have been worse. “Yes, suppose we should all be grateful that you’re not out doing destroying,” he teased, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous notion that something as trivial as this would be enough to knock Kieran off kilter. 

“I can put up with it until you find a way to break the curse,” he assured Felix. “And if it does start to bother me, there are ways to pass the time that don’t involve as much speaking.” With a grin, Kieran ducked his head for a kiss, pulling Felix closer and allowing himself a bit of feeding - like a reward for all the nice and reassuring things he’d blabbered out in the last few minutes. And it was sure to reset Felix’s nerves, too. Aware of a few disapproving stares from frigid parents on other parts of the course, Kieran finally pulled away, grin still firmly in place. “Now, are you going to help me get that ridiculously colorful ball where it belongs?”

—

“If I wanted to, I could definitely pull off a prank,” Felix protested, feeling a little lighter now. It took some time for them to feel secure around a person, but Kieran had done a pretty good job in lowering their defenses. It was easier to be more themself with someone who reassured them that themself wasn’t a bad thing to be. “I bet, if I really wanted to, I could rob a bank. Not that I would. But, you know, I think I could.” They thought of the pixies they’d encountered, the ones that had… attempted to rob the bank with Felix and Van as their witnesses. If nothing else, Felix thought he’d be a lot more successful than they were, even if that wasn’t really saying much.

Of course, they had a few… extras that Kieran was unaware of. If some curse had implored them towards destruction instead of rhyming, Felix knew they were capable of a lot more than it might outwardly seem. The jaguar had proven more than once that he could be a dangerous thing, and control was already harder to manage than Felix would like for it to be. If something took away that control entirely, made it dependent on some outside force… They were lucky, really, that the curse they’d been saddled with was such a silly one. A lot of people were lucky for that.

Their smile softened a little as Kieran reassured them again, claiming that he could handle the rhyming. “If it gets to be too much, I wouldn’t blame you for taking a break,” they said, not wanting him to feel obligated to stick to something they might not really want. “I mean, I know there’s probably only so much a person can take. I thought it was fun at first. But… I’m definitely ready to have it reversed.” They flushed a little at the mention of other things they could be doing, Kieran’s lips pressing quickly against theirs the only thing that prevented another bout of awkward, rhyming rambling. When he pulled away, they grinned, letting out a breathless laugh. “Um, yes!” They agreed. “I think we need to hit it… a little less?” They fetched the ball, bringing it back over and setting it down once more. With a little more confidence than before, they wrapped their arms around Kieran to guide him into a more controlled put.

—

The insistence that they could pull off a prank had Kieran smiling which escalated into a chuckle when prank became bank robbery. “Definitely call me if you decide to rob a bank, then. I would love to see that.” Of course, bank robberies necessitated scaring people, making them uncomfortable and frightened on purpose and that was probably what would hold Felix back more than the whole ‘being illegal’ part of a bank robbery ever would. Kieran couldn’t help but wonder how time consuming it was to go through life constantly wondering how everyone else was feeling. And not even for a less than selfless reason like how Kieran was currently making sure his companion had a nice time. 

Which, for anyone wondering, was clearly working if Felix’s flushed face and unguarded grin were anything to go off. Like an eager puppy, Felix bounced off to retrieve the ball, which did seem fair seeing as they had been the one to whack it out of the course. With the whole rhyming debacle put to rest for now, Felix immediately seemed less tense, even managing to guide Kieran into putting the ball to just a few inches away from the hole. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Kieran cheered, the feeling of accomplishment more prominent than he’d expected since said accomplishment was rolling colorful balls into holes. Yes, he liked to make it known that he could make any situation fun but as Kieran watched Felix make their way down towards the hole to finish their shot, he found that a surprisingly low amount of effort was needed to make this… pleasant. Probably had more to do with the promise of less mundane things later on. Surely. “We still haven’t discussed possible rewards for the winner,” Kieran mused as he joined Felix by the first hole, gently nudging his own ball down it. “I’m feeling like I might have some beginner’s luck after all.”

[sunnikos]

Day 2: Dancing

Hello! I am participating in Bsd Rarepair Week 2024. It’s kinda open-ended, mostly because I want to be sure I can complete my other WIP’s.

Anyway, this is day 2, enjoy!

@bsd-rarepair-week-2024

Pairing: Oda x Kouyou

Content Warnings: None

Word Count: 809

| Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 |

It is certainly not unusual to see the lovely Kouyou at a gala. It is, however, rare to see Oda Sakunosuke at such an event. Glamourous refreshments decorate a table, but they sit uneaten. The Demon Prodigy can’t ruin this display, what with his mission having drawn him out of the city. A shabby suit paired some stubble, that’s Oda for you. He didn’t bother to shave, or even wash out the curry stain on his dress shirt.

Unkempt is almost a brand for him. Dazai would call it cozy, Kouyou might describe it as eccentric if she’s in a good mood.

The gala is in full swing. Or it would be, if only the dance floor wasn’t devoid of life. As it is now, the party is incomplete.

Mori, as he does, makes an order for the attendees of the event to populate the dance floor. It’s made to sound like an invitation, but Mori is Mori. He will make the entire room uncomfortable with a tight grip on his glass before he invites his people to do something. No, this is an order. A low rank like him would do well to listen. The floor is scuff-free and shiny. He could eat his meal off this floor and avoid the sick feeling he gets every time he tests Dazai’s latest experiment with cooking.

He is still taking in the finer details of the floor when an elegant and traditional kimono graces his vision.

“Executive Ozaki.” he greets with a bow.

“Sakunosuke,” she returns, “would you be so kind as to join me for a dance?”

Right, as an executive, she is just as required to follow Mori’s order as he is. If not moreso, as a highup representative of the mafia.

Oda nods his head and holds out a hand for her. A few seconds in, and the executive can’t seem to keep her thoughts from bursting out.

“I don’t understand how you can put up with that brat.” Kouyou sneers as she’s led backwards.

Oda chuckles, her hand in his, “He’s still a child; what more do you expect?”

One-step-step, two-step-step, three-step-step.

“I was brought into the Port Mafia as a child too, you know,” a twirl, so gentle she almost forgets her thoughts, “and I was still leagues more respectful.”

Another chuckle, “Well, unfortunately for you, Mori finds Dazai’s behavior..” he mulls it over, “refreshing.”

“Not forever; he’s bound to get tired of that urchin’s insolence eventually.”

“Perhaps,” he guides her into a tender dip, “but I don’t think that will be that last we hear of our ‘Demon Prodigy’.”

“Please do not place such a curse on us,” she begins as they pull apart. The song ends and they bow at one another pleasantly, “I shiver at the thought.” she finishes.

Oda pulls a shy smile to his face, “It’s just a feeling I have; I’ll see you around, Executive Ozaki.”

The woman looks miffed before puffing and accepting his departure with a nod.

Transferring Oda under Executive Ozaki wouldn’t make sense. And yet, Oda finds himself doing her favors. He’s aquainted with her girls. He’s brought many men in for questioning. This is the reality of a Port Mafia grunt who does not kill. Menial tasks and odd favors. He says favors because he’s not exactly compensated for the extra running around. There’s no bonus for someone like him. He’s made his peace with it.

Dazai loves to complain about his good friend’s lack of free time. Oda didn’t have much in the first place, but now he’s all booked out. He’s got useless missions keeping him occupied for the next month. Yikes. After all that sidework, Oda eventually finds himself ordered to tea with the very cause of his rapid loss of respite.

It should be tense. It would be, if Oda really cared. He respects Kouyou a great deal, but this is as informal as it gets. She means to take his time, and maybe pick his brain. A graceful sip interrupts their silence, and is accentuated with the clacking of porcelan.

She looks at him, a coy mirth in her eyes, “How have you been adjusting to the extra workload?”

“It was a bit rough at first, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Excellent.”

“So,” he glances around before settling his attention back on Kouyou, ”why am I really here?”

Kouyou rolls her eyes, “Can’t you ever play along?”

“I don’t care to, so?”

“You intrigue me. Tell me, why do you refuse to kill?”

“That’s kind of personal, don’t you think?”

“Everything is personal when you’re doing business in blood.”

“Fair enough.”

“So?” another sip.

“I can’t be the man I want to be if I kill.”

“You’ve killed in the past.”

“I know.”

“Hmph. Tell me something I don’t know, Sakunosuke.”

Oda smiles, but it’s a small thing, “Sure.”

[egittae]

21th of Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1135

Well, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this.

An old song and dance by now in his mind, revolving around the same topic, questions and answers each time only to reach a conclusion that too wasn’t new.

The impossibility that was his revival, that it could mean- why did it even happen. Days where he spent thinking if this was an act of defiance against the Goddess where he ripped the pen from her hands and continued to write page after page in the book that was his life long after the epilogue had been completed, or if perhaps this was part of her plan all along and she simply chose to give him a second chance as there was something out there he had yet to do, and he could only truly die after he sees it done.

In both cases, the result too led to a wall. If he defied the Goddess, how come she hasn’t dragged him back to death yet? If this was her intention, then how come people much more significant than him- literal saints and greater kings and queens from the past, weren’t offered the same grace?

Sitting down on his bed, holding the shabby paper calendar he had on his desk, his eyes remained fixated on the date, moon and year. The number almost alien to his brain as it didn’t match any of the couple of memories it was able to gather.

Almost half a decade had passed.

Half a decade in which he didn’t exist. He wasn’t asleep or lost, just ceased. Only to return now, his organism seemingly unbothered by the fact he should’ve rotted away and become one with nature at this point- instead, it kept going. It wasn’t perfect, Lambert could tell whatever it was that happened to him did take a toll on his general health, but he was still alive and surprisingly healthy for a man that had been dead for years now.

The conversation he had with Matthias earlier, one he had actually thought to himself a couple of times before, returned to his mind. Lambert should be completing fifty years of age now- but how can he, when at least four of these years were lost? Was he fifty, or forty-six? Such a simple and almost stupid question to be stressing over, but one that sent his mind into absolute disarray because it was the most real proof of how abhorrent his situation was. Lambert could just say whatever number he wanted if others asked, but in the end he knew, in his own mind, that he…didn’t know the real answer.

Wallowing would only get him so far, in the end. Putting the calendar aside with a sigh and leaning on his elbows against his thighs, he stared at nothing in particular. It was only then that he figured- perhaps, the best way to approach his dilemma.

He closed his eyes, falling back into the fairly disorganized archive of memories that was his mind- searching for nothing specific but a key moment all the same. What he found were not one, but multiple short instances- all spoken in the tone of a joke, never taking the situation too seriously. He didn’t have to.

Lambert! Get down from that tree, you dumb arse- you will fall and split your head open! Have some more faith in me, will you? I can just walk it off anyway! Not if you die! Then I’ll get to not only walk it off but also haunt you!

–

And what would you do then? If you were to fall in combat. I have taken more than enough precautions for that to not be the case- and in the odd chance it does, I do have contingency plans on paper. Is that so… Yes. But please, Krima. Have more faith in me, will you? I am not so careless. Besides, I am not in the mood to let the Goddess drag me away so soon! I will just have a talk with her and she will let me go. Lambert, do not joke about this! Oh, you dummy…

–

If you were to die and then come back, what would you do? Haunt my brother. Stop always saying you’ll haunt people, Your Highness! Every single time! Hehe, that is the fun part, is it not? Hmm… It would feel creepy, wouldn’t it? Imagine, being fully aware that you’re a ghost…or an undead-! I think…I would feel really powerful.  Eh? Yeah, it would feel powerful, would it not? To meet the end, and then go back from it. The one boundary no warrior has ever gotten back from! The coolest king ever! I think I would wear that with pride.  With pride…

–

Maybe, instead of letting it plague his thoughts so much, he should just wear his defiance of death with pride. As his younger self, many years ago, would've wished.

[thomine]

through thick and thin

mika x reader, 600 words

mika hides a secret from his brother. it involves bikes, gangs, and the person who saved him—you.

general audiences. biker gangs, a little bit of delinquent vibes from reader, slightly dystopia vibes, not proofread

notes: work tag :: biker au (day 18 of au august 2023)

The television in the living of Mika and his brother’s shabby shared apartment plays the news. The audio glitches and the colours are off—not that it matters. All the news has to say is how bike gangs erect fear and discord, what’s new? Perhaps the name of the bike gang that caught the spotlight of news reporters. Favonius.

“They’re activities have spiked as of late,” Huffman says while wearing his police attire. Its cleanliness gives it a certain glow in the dim apartment, the only light coming from the television’s flicker. He sighs and ruffles with Mika’s hair. “If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have to work overtime.”

Mika remains quiet.

When Huffman waves goodbye and the door closes behind him, Mika starts the countdown in his head. At the 10-minute mark, he takes his newly bought helmet stuffed under his bed and switches off the television. Swiftly, he heads to the ground floor and wears his hood over his head.

“Pst,” a voice calls from one of the alleyways. Mika walks on. His small statue and quiet personality make him anything but a person of interest. The hood was just to prevent his brother’s hawk gaze from seeing him—in case Huffman has not left the area.

The sound comes again. Curious, Mika looks at who might be hiding in the shadows.

You are there, leaning against the wall.

“Took you long enough to notice me,” you tease. “Varka won’t be pleased that we’re late, and it’s your first day as well.”

“You’re here to… pick me up?” Mika asks in a whisper. “You didn’t have to. Now you’ll be late too.”

“Don’t sweat it. Boss had a quick look at your profile, and he seems to take a liking towards you. We’ll be fine. It’s just not nice to keep me waiting, don’t you think?” You hook your arm around his shoulders. Mika hopes you don’t feel the heat that clusters on his face. Other than his brother, he’s not used to close contact.

“Either way,” you add, “Although we all answer to Varka, since I saved you and recruited you, you’re technically under me too. Wanted a nice second impression to greet you before you meet Varka and officially join our team.”

Case 321: Huffman arrested a man for a long list of crimes. He was part of a large criminal organisation—Mika learned from Favonius—and that was why after he was arrested, people tracked Mika down in hopes to return with a hostage.

Mika’s not sure what else can be a cooler first impression than drifting through alleyways and charismatically announcing take my hand as he laid on the floor, cornered by thugs. He’ll never forget it if that concerns you.

“Anyways, you’re right. I’m glad I’m here to pick you up. Considering your unique situation because of your… close relations, I guess I should ensure you don’t get busted before your first day even starts.”

“I know my way around,” he says, hoping his timid voice does not betray his intention to make himself seem… less timid. The fact the criminal organisation thought he was an easy target grated on his nerves. He didn’t want to be the damsel in distress.

“I don’t see a reason to disagree.” You point him up and down. “You’re here in one piece. But it doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

You’re about to sit on the bike but don’t.

“Oh, right, I forgot to say I’m also here to test you in advance. Not Varka’s command, he’s not that strict. Just something I want to know…”

Mika sees the way your eyes glint at the sight of his shiney helmet in his hands. You throw him something. He almost stumbles when he catches it. It’s a key.

“Do you know how to ride a bike?”

Mika gulps. It’s just like riding a bicycle, is it not?

author's note: i initially wanted to keep this story to at most 100 words, but i couldn't really find the words for it, so it became 600 words, whoop

[starset21]

Disclaimer: I only own my original characters, I've done some research but there will likely be Navy/military inaccuracies, and I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under @.itswildflower

A/N: This story is heavily inspired by the hallmark movie of the same title and is very self-indulgent. I'm also trying a different format than I'm used to using so it may change in the future chapters.

Looking for the other chapters? U.S.S. Christmas Masterlist 

Summary: The final day of the tiger cruise is being wrapped up and its time to say goodbye.

Chapter 6: Disembarking

“Kate, how is the article coming along?” Ron asked as they were decorating some Christmas ornaments.

“Um, unfortunately, it's not coming along as easily as I had hoped, but it's been a fun adventure and… Jake's been amazing,” she told him.

“Jake?” Jackson asked in a teasing tone.

“Wonderful. It's been, uh… Enlightening,” he told them.

“Well, I'm glad to hear it. And I hope everybody enjoyed the cruise,” Ron told them.

“This time with my kids… was just the best Christmas gift,” Elizabeth told him.

“That makes me happy. Family is everything,” Ron said, a bright smile on his face.

“Apologies. I need to excuse myself,” Jake told them, standing up.

“Work?”

“Just a few lists I need to double-check. Excuse me,” Jake smiled before walking off.

“A toast. To friends… Family… And Christmas!” Ron added.

“Cheers, Merry Christmas!” they all echoed. 

“Merry Christmas! Ho ho ho ho ho ho!”

They all turned to see Santa walk over to one of the chairs.

“Yay, Santa's here!” some kids cheer.

The Santa adjusted his beard just enough for them to see it was Jake. Kate laughed and he sent her a wink.

“Oh ho ho! Merry Christmas! Come on, kids, line up in a single-file line, everyone can see Santa,” Jake bellowed.

“You are a miracle worker,” Ron smiled, turning to Kate.

“Me?”

Ron nodded. “What happened on that trip to New York?” he asked.

“Oh. Um, we just talked a lot about the past and the future, and... I reminded Jake what makes Christmas so special,” Kate told him truthfully.

“Well… He seems very happy,” Ron nodded, turning back to the ornament he was working on. 

Later that night Kate stood up in the crows nest, getting some air.

“I told you that first night I met you I can be spontaneous,” Jake said, coming to lean against the railing beside her, his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Yeah, you did. And I was wrong about you. Where'd you get that belly, anyway?” Kate asked, looking out at the water.

“Two life preservers, remember?” Jake laughed.

“Oh… Good use of a flotation device,” Kate shook her head. Jake pulled his hands out of his pockets and with it came a very glittery snowflake.

“Yeah, and sparkles. Tons and... tons of sparkles. Voilà. Not too shabby, huh?” he asked, handing it to her.

“It’s beautiful Jake…” she trailed off as little white things began floating down around them.

“Is... is it...?” she asked.

“Snow. It's the perfect night,” Jake told her.

“Absolutely… Perfect,” Kate echoed.

Jake took a step closer to her. He was never one for the romantic aspects of relationships, he was always so career driven, but with her, it was like he was an entirely new person. He would not lie and say he didn’t enjoy being this new guy, one who could open up and express his thoughts to her, watching him quietly. He leaned in and Kate did too. But before her lips could do more than brush his, she pulled away.

“Jake, this isn't a good idea,” she muttered before taking a step away from him.

“Why not?” he asks.

“I think you're so great, but whatever this is here on the ship, it's… It's not gonna work back home. I… I'm so sorry. I should go,” she tells him, turning and walking away.

“Kate, don't…” Jake trailed off but she was already gone. 

“Tigers, thank you for joining us on our 4-day cruise of the eastern seaboard. It's been a pleasure having you onboard, and we wish you the merriest of christmases,” the intercom clicked off after they had docked.

“Sayonara, ladies, Jackson, Have a wonderful Christmas. I'm off to Aspen to meet the rest of my family,” Charlotte told them.

“It's been real, Charlotte,” Kate told her, shaking her hand.

“Real fun,” she smiled and nodded before heading off with her brother.

“Oh! We just had the best time, Ron. Thank you,” Elizabeth gushed.

“You're welcome. And I hope I wake up to your article Christmas day,” Ron directed to Kate.

“I hope so too,” she told him. “I thought Jake would have shown up to say goodbye, but… Well, Merry Christmas, ladies,” Ron told them.

“You too, Ron. Merry Christmas.” Kate grabbed her bag and they were about to head out when they heard heavy footsteps coming from behind them. 

“Kate! I'm so glad I caught you before you left!” Nick exclaimed.

“We'll get the bags to the car. Do you have the keys?” Jackson asked their mom.

“My brother found a Jonah William who was a pilot on the polaris in 1965,” Nick hurriedly told her.

“That's amazing! What about the records? I thought we needed a freedom of information request.”

“Turns out he was awarded the Navy cross for extraordinary heroism. He shot down three enemy aircraft in Vietnam, and that makes him a person of exceptional prominence, which is an exception to the rule of releasing records to the public without a formal request,” Nick told her.

“That's so amazing. So where is he now?” Kate bit her lip in anticipation.

“He went back to Vietnam in 1967 and, sadly, went missing in action,” Nick told her and Kate frowned.

“Oh. Did they ever find him?” she asked.

“It's complicated. While Jonah was Mia, there was a fire at the VA storage facility in Missouri which houses the records. The strange part is, after the fire, the trail goes cold. My brother couldn't find any more from military records.” Kate’s head dropped.

“So we don't even know if he's alive?” she sighed.

“Okay. Well, I have his name, I can do my own search. Thanks Nick.”

Nick nodded. “Well, I hope it works out. Good luck,” he tells her.

“Thanks.”

Kate turned to leave but Jake walked out just as she did.

“Merry Christmas, Jake,” she said quietly.

“Merry Christmas, Kate.”

Kate swallowed, looking up at him.

“You stay safe, okay?” she asked and Jake nodded.

Kate nodded once more before heading off the ship. 

[puella-peanut]

If Alpha Twig got Omega Danny pregnant in high school, do you think they would have stayed together? How would their families react?

Well well...depending on how much I want to be nice or mean to Danny-boy and Terry, the scenarios could vary. Since I have a similar ask for this scenario but that Anon wanted fluff, this one will be on the angsty side (sorry, Danny-boy). Heads up for underage Daniel, Omega-sexism, me making Danny suffer, and super bastard boyfriend psycho Terry (as well as his shitty father). 

.

.

.

—By early February, as soon as his Ma leaves, Daniel spends nearly every morning before school resting his cheek against the cool porcelain toilet in the bathroom he shares with his Ma in their shabby apartment. He turned 15 in December, still looks like 12—he’s just a kid, a pup, a freshman, and now he’s...

Daniel can’t even finish the thought. ('Cause he promised Ma, Madonna bless her, he’d be good here in Omega-friendly California, stay outta trouble. That’s why she allowed him to go to one of these progressive Integrated Schools instead of a mediocre Omega Government-Funded Institution.) And he’d been so happy, so excited—and now he’s in the worst trouble of his life. Daniel’s eyes fill. What on earth is he gonna tell his Ma? What on earth is he gonna tell...

...Terry?

(The ridiculously handsome, popular Alpha who’d graciously invited Daniel to his Christmas party at the fancy loft in upscale LA, a week before Christmas break, and Daniel had innocently gone along, totally flattered that his crush since the very first day of school in August had asked...him! Poor, plain, and little almost-15-year-old Daniel LaRusso! And Terry had been tall and dashing and seductive—giving Daniel all of his undivided attention, and then his first taste of champagne, and a bit later his first kiss. And then real late that very evening his first...well, everything.) 

Daniel had lost a lot that night, more than he knew at the moment, and had woken up alone, and sore, and frightened—and with an aching head in a guest bedroom instead of Terry’s apartment-sized bedroom. A Beta maid had offered him breakfast, but he’d turned the lavish tray down, mortified, and left immediately once he found his clothes neatly folded and freshened up on the vanity’s chair. He hadn’t seen Terry. (He'd...wanted to.)

Ma had been more worried than angry, and had fussed over him when he’d returned with a feeble lie. Luckily he was wearing a turtleneck sweater, so she didn’t see the bruises and bite marks on his neck and shoulder, and the matching hand-shaped bruises on his wrists. And she didn't have a clue about the mouth-shaped-marks on his chest, his inner thighs. Thank the Alpha up above. Anyways, he’d moped over Christmas not feeling himself, and daydreaming about Terry, wishing he would call, and not thinking too much on why he didn’t. 

But after a holiday that was anything but merry, Terry didn’t even spare him a passing glance when school started again on the 3rd. That first day back without a single word or look of acknowledgement from the Alpha had crushed Daniel, deeply, and he’d cried a little in the bathroom after he’d thrown up all his lunch. So he ended up being not only heartbroken, but ill for the new year. Go figure. 

I think in this one, Anon, Terry is a Senior. He’s wealthy, spoiled, and a playboy—he has time to fuck around with many a pretty Omega, but no time to stick around for one. Terry’s going places, you see, he’s a brainy and bookish scholar despite the lecherous side; he has been accepted to several of the Ivy League Alpha-Only universities of Yale, Columbia, Harvard; maybe even to schools abroad like Oxford—he can’t be having a fucking pup now. 

(Why Alpha above, he could’ve shaken the boy as he’d stuttered and stumbled through telling Terry about his...condition in a classroom in a lonely part of the school. Wanted to, badly, when the kid had started crying these great hulking sobs that shook his body, looking so small and delicate and fragile—and giving off such terrified pheromones that it made Terry’s stomach roll with...with he didn’t even know what. He didn’t even respond to the boy’s pitiful pleading, just left him there all crumpled and blotchy on the floor in the too-big red sweater Terry had ripped off him that night in December...only now with endless tears running down his face. But Terry could smell it on him, easy, like Alphas could of the Omegas they’d knotted up. He was reeking of it. Those pregnancy pheromones, his and the kid’s mixed together, tangled up in a knot...)

...He gets his father, the Alpha Silver-senior, to hush this nonsense all up, threaten the kid and his mother if they retaliate (not that Betas, and especially Omegas, had much of a percentage, if any, of winning a lawsuit against an Alpha). And Silver sr. does, because his only child (a strapping boy, an Alpha! How proud is he!) is set to take over the legendary Silver business, and needs to keep the connections, name, and social hierarchy a fancy university will maintain for him—not the shame a penniless, pregnant Omega and bastard puppy will bring. Why, what a pity they outlawed the Breeding Farms a century ago—he’d have that Omega slut banished there instead. He wishes Terrance had been more discreet, true—but then there’s that ridiculous Alpha bragging pride that his son knocked up an untouched 14 year old Omega at, what, only 18? A proper Alpha already! He signs the papers with a flourish, plans out the monthly fee—measured in accordance, of course, if the child comes out an Alpha (wonderful, but doubtful), a Beta (boring), or an Omega (vermin). He chides Terrance with a good laugh over their favorite Irish whiskey and imported Cuban cigars, and doesn’t give the matter a second thought. Margaret will oversee the little monthly problem. Now, back to securing that fantastic deal with that German company...

(Anyway, Anon, Terry did think that Danny-boy had been quite the little darling, probably the prettiest Omega Terry ever saw—but that means nothing, really, since the kid was only good for an (admittedly excellent) fuck, and it had been great fun taking his first time. Oh, he’d seen the way the boy’s big eyes had looked shyly his way after that night when they passed each other in the school corridors between classes they never shared—and he’d paid no heed outside of scoffing once he’d passed. What, did the kid think Terry would date him or something, that they’d be official? That Terry’d give him his varsity jacket, like how Johnny had given his to his Omega girl, Betsy? Did the boy really think Terry would love him? Omegas these days. Ridiculous.)

Father transfers the boy to another school, Omega only, and not that dreadful like most of those were—really, the boy should thank him on bended knee!—so he can have the pup like he wants (why not just terminate the blasted thing?), and complete his education. It’s more than many an Omega usually gets, since the discomfort of unshared Heats, the high-percentage fail rate of suppressants, and the sheer yearning of wanting an Alpha to fuck and mate them make many drop-out young. And they’re pressured anyway, to find an Alpha, and get married off as soon as possible, even as young as 13 if they start their Heats early—something which the Government always turned a blind eye to, even here in progressive California. After all, Omegas don’t need to have brains, just spread their dainty legs and pump out pups. Easy peasy. 

So, Terry feels good about the...situation. Mostly. There’s a niggling sensation there, something that feels like it’s pressing on a bruise that Terry doesn’t even know he has. No matter, it’ll pass. He’ll ring up his Alpha pals, Johnny, Ponytail, and Mikey—it’ll make for an amusing yarn to share over dinner and bourbon (and maybe a couple Omega whores if he can bribe Milos to get them for Pony and Mike, since John got boring once he started mooning over Betsy). 

Terry only just wishes he could get the kid out of his memory, damn it. Why, the way he’d caught Terry’s eye since the school year had started, tiny little fluffy-haired brunette—like he’d been tailored just for Terry’s personal tastes. The sweet, addictive scent of him when Terry had bumped into him between classes, once, twice, thrice on purpose—before casually asking him to his party. And when he’d shown up, all in over his head and cutely thanking Terry for the invite—Terry had been ridiculously charmed, deciding then and there that the kid was his that night. (Who cared that he was 14-looking-12? Society didn’t give a flying fuck about Omega-rights and nor did Terry, though both pretended they did.) Anyway, he knew he’d decided rightly when, later on, his mouth had watered like never before to stake his claim on that mating gland when the kid had curled up in his lap away from prying eyes, tipsy and adorable. Or how gorgeous those brown eyes were, especially when they’d looked shyly up at him with such tender affection that Terry had carried him off then and there to his bedroom. The flushed cheeks, the plump mouth moving naively against his own. It was nearly too much. And those sweet, if surprised, sobs of pleasure when he’d...

Shit, he needs another fucking drink. 

So what happens next, Anon?

Daniel has the pup, of course—an Omega he names Samantha. And he loves her from the moment she’s placed screaming in his exhausted arms. Adores her instantly, perhaps even more than usual, because she has her father’s wavy dark hair, and his bright blue eyes...

...Daniel manages to get through school until 18, finding it tremendously difficult to balance studying, and a part time job, and a puppy, but he pushes through it, sometimes on three hours of sleep a night, determined. And maybe a little bit angry (and a lot hurt). The meagre monthly stipend he receives from Terry’s father for having an Omega puppy covers some of Sam’s expenses, and that’s a blessing regardless, because she’ll have it until she has her Omega coming of age at 16, when the dole will stop. It’s not that bad, he supposes wistfully sometimes when Sam’s asleep, and his homework is completed, and it’s just him and his lonesome thoughts. 

(Not that bad even if it does sting that Terry’s never bothered to contact them, or that he hasn’t seen the Alpha since he was pulled out of that school early March. Just to have one more look at him, that’s all he wanted. For old times sake...)

As for Ma, well she's eternally disappointed in him, of course, even though Daniel tries his very best. But she left New Jersey to give him a better life, a better chance across the country where Omegas were allowed to flourish—and what did he do to repay her just a few months later? Oh, she loves Sammy very much and helps take care of her, but something breaks down in their relationship, and Daniel simply doesn’t have the tools to fix it. So when, at 18, Daniel and little Sam relocate to the Bronx for a charity-organized paid training position for single-parent Omegas it’s with a strange, if bittersweet, relief on both sides of the parting. 

But he’s grateful to be trained as a mechanic, a position Omegas aren’t usually taught, nor hired to be in. But Daniel’s a fighter, he fought for equal-opportunity job rights, fought for his little Sam, for himself. He won’t let his past hurt him. He’s gonna move on. Maybe the progressive, Omega-friendly New York City is where he’s meant to be. 

And for a while he’s right, Anon, because now, at 20, he’s respected at his job, and makes a decent living. He’s even landed a good-looking 30 year old blond fighter pilot in the Alpha Armed Forces (the AAF) named Johnny. They’re living together, and Johnny popped the question a little while ago. Daniel’s now got a nice little ring on his finger, and Johnny’s even tried to Claim him, but for some reason it didn’t take...

Whatever. Johnny doesn’t care that the Claim didn’t hold, or that Daniel has had a pup with another Alpha. Sammy likes him, he’s got a steady job, he makes Daniel laugh nearly as much as they bicker, and okay, okay—it’s so very nice to be petted, and cuddled, and wanted, and have his natural Omega urges satisfied. Oh, Daniel likes Johnny very much. (Maybe one day he’ll even love him.)

So, overall, things are going well!

...Until it doesn’t, Anon, because one day, Daniel finds himself adding the finishing touches to a gorgeous vintage black convertible with red leather insides that some fool rear-ended. A classic make like this would cost a pretty penny; whatever Alpha owns this (and of course it’s an Alpha)—is filthy, disgustingly rich. 

He should have known then, should have realized before the owner showed up, before the long stride of expensive dress shoes was heard echoing off the concrete floors. Before that familiar scent of bourbon and cigar smoke hit his nose.

But Daniel doesn’t, so when Terry Silver—wealthier, taller, and more dashing than ever—shows up, Daniel finds himself backing up against the car he just polished, so many emotions tangled up in his stomach it’ll take years to pull them apart, if ever. 

Terry’s polite, charming, sophisticated. But the years have sharpened him like a knife, making his smile at once captivating and deadly. He tells Daniel in a friendly manner how he’s very recently become the head of his family’s company, now that his father’s finally passed. That he’s the one who sent Daniel the latest monthly stipend for Sam seeing that Margaret was dismissed immediately after the funeral. That he’s known the exact whereabouts of Daniel and Samantha for two weeks now, since the day his father died. 

Terry tells him, still grinning even while Daniel’s hands start shaking—of the fact that his convertible landing in Daniel’s bodyshop was not a stroke of luck, but rather a set-up. A plan not only for Terry’s personal amusement, but also to soothe his rage—to observe Danny at work, see how an Omega got by at a (haha!) paying job. A job which he, sweet Danny-boy, should never have been fucking trained for in the first place, which he should never have been working at. Or working, whatsoever. 

That Terry knows—and here his blue eyes grow so cold when he glances in utter disgust at the simple engagement ring that they look like ice—about Johnny. About their wedding plans. About the failed Claiming. 

And lastly, lastly because this is all not enough of shock for one day, for one life—

—the reason, Terry says as lightly as if he were mentioning the weather, the Claiming failed from that subpar fool of an Alpha is because you’ve already been Claimed, sweetheart. Since that night when you were 14. For several years now, you’ve been mine. And, Danny-boy, darling—you didn’t even suspect a thing. 

Daniel can’t breathe, can’t think. Can’t do anything except put up his hands defensively as Terry steps in close, crowding Daniel against the convertible, the knots of his spine shoved hard enough against the polished metal to be sore for days. 

Terry’s shadow towers over Daniel, and his hands hold his wrists so tightly that he wraps them in bruises just as he did all those years ago. Daniel whimpers in pain, in fear, in terrified confusion at how quickly his life has turned upside down again—and Terry’s smile broadens as he grinds Daniel’s wrist bones painfully.

All these years, Terry whispers in his ear, I couldn't get you out of my fucking mind. It was like having a fever that never got better. I had to make it better; I had to get better, Danny-boy. My father, curse him, wouldn't have it. He thought it was nonsense, that it would run its course, and when it didn't, he took great care to keep any and all information about you and my pup away from me. Margaret helped. And I waited, waited until he dropped dead by either my hand or fate, and everything he owned and signed and kept hidden—became mine. Though you, Terry says kissing the top of his head tenderly, have always been. 

He takes Daniel in his arms, rests his head against his chest, against his heartbeat. Chuckles when he feels the tremors going through Daniel's body. 

Terry gives Daniel an ultimatum: Daniel and Sam can go back with him to LA on his private plane, latest by tomorrow night—or he takes Sam with him in the next hour, and Daniel will never see her again, he’ll make sure of it. What's Daniel going to do, anyways? A working-class Omega who got knocked up at 14, attempt to go up against an Alpha, a Silver? Oh, sweetheart. How you make me laugh! 

And it's bullshit, total bullshit in every way because of course there's only one solution. There's no way Daniel would ever leave his little girl, and Terry knows this. He's always known this. It's the ace up his sleeve. 

So he wipes the tear that falls down Daniel’s cheek almost gently, letting his thumb linger on Daniel’s wobbling bottom lip. There’s a hunger in his eyes, a possessive desire. A cold-blooded triumph. 

“Well, Danny-boy?” he says fondly. 

[husbandomail-archive]

Deuce Spade + "Honey, I'm home"

“—can I stay here tonight?”

It was a common question now, and didn’t startle you quite as much as the first time he’d asked. Deuce was always showing up at your little Ramshackle dorm, his uniform mussed, an unzipped bag thrown over his shoulder because he knew you’d say yes. And you did, every time— you’d let out a very heavy and very fake sigh, but move aside anyways to make room in the narrow hallway for the broad-shouldered boy.

Something seemed… off. The air around him was electric, and Deuce’s handsome face was dark with an emotion that wasn’t familiar on a boy like him. He was quiet as he dropped his bag on the kitchen counter and climbed up onto his favorite stool.

“How’re we supposed to feed three people so last-minute?” Grim yowled up at you from his spot on the floor; you barely glanced at him as you took Deuce’s uniform jacket and hung it on the coat rack.

“We’re not feeding three people, Grim,” you said, “I’m feeding two people and a cat.”

Deuce snorted at that, and relief fluttered in your chest. He wasn’t the type to talk about his feelings, so you weren’t going to pry into whatever had him down, but— if he could laugh at something like that, he would be fine.

One week later, there was a familiar knock at your door. You were sprawled out on the floor of your bedroom, which happened to be right over the rickety porch; popping your head out the open window, you waved at Deuce, who grinned back up at you.

“Can I come in?”

“It’s unlocked!”

You heard the door swing open and then it slammed shut hard enough to shake the frame. Heavy footsteps came crashing up the old stairs; it wasn’t long before Deuce was collapsing on your bedroom floor beside you, textbooks and handwritten notes spilling out of his backpack.

“So for Alchemy,” he started before he’d even kicked his shoes off, “I didn’t understand the end of today’s lecture— can I copy your notes?”

“Copyin’ ‘em won’t help,” you chided as you rolled over, “because I didn’t get it either. I picked up this library book Trey suggested, though—”

Deuce sighed and ran a hand through his hair, only to make a face when he realized he was still wearing his uniform gloves. Strands of deep blue clung to the fabric, static continuing to spike them up like a boy from the manga on your shelves. “Would you believe me if I told you I can’t read?”

“Nice try, Spade.”

It was about another week before your Heartslabyul friend returned to Ramshackle. You were stretched out on the shabby couch that’d been left in the dorm when you arrived; you’d caught some kind of cold, and laying on the thin, hard cushions was doing nothing for the ache in your neck. Grim had dropped a bottle of thick syrupy medicine into your hand that morning, and since you’d taken it, you’d been too dazed to do anything but stare at the ceiling—

“Honey, I’m home.”

Stare at the ceiling and hallucinate Deuce’s voice, apparently.

“—hey, did you hear me?”

You blinked, forcing yourself upright because your body ached too much to twist and glance over your shoulder. Deuce was standing in the doorway, kicking his shoes off as one hand delved into the plastic bag he carried. “Ace said you weren’t feeling well, so I—”

“What did you say before?”

He paused, hesitant to repeat himself. But only for a moment.

“Said honey, I’m home.”

[breakerwhiskey]

053 - FIFTY-THREE

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

Week 11 - Breaker Whiskey

[click, static] [beeps] [click, static] Yeah, okay, I guess I really had given up trying to be subtle about it. [click, static]

You didn’t put a question mark at the end, but I’m going to assume it’s a question anyway—or, asking for confirmation at least.

I’m glad you’re okay—thanks for sending me something, even if I’m not totally sure what to say in response. I’ve never really, um...talked about this. At least not to anyone not in it with me.

[click, static]

But, yes, I was an art thief. I mean, that’s the easiest way to describe it anyway. And, you know, it wasn’t always art-art— like with Sylvia, it was sometimes antiques and what-not. I’m sure you’re wondering how I got into it when I’m clearly not an art connoisseur and the answer is really

that I fell backwards into it. To finish my story from the other day, I guess, and completely incriminate myself I met Pete trying to rob him of some jewelry he’d robbed from some Park Ave fat cat—that was mainly my thing at the time. Burglary. Um, I didn’t—when I got to New York, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, so I got a job at a hardware store in a really nice part of town and that led to me doing in home repairs for some folks in the neighborhood and...well, you fix enough wall sconces in five bedroom apartments while you’re living with four other people in a shitty downtown box and you start to have some feelings about some things.

I am as good at breaking things as I am at fixing them, so it was easy for me to get into empty apartments, into locked drawers or safes and it was easy for me to case a place if I was already there doing repairs—

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God, it’s weird to talk about this out loud and on a public frequency. I don’t know what you might be thinking of me, finding out I’m some kind of common criminal, but I never stole from anyone who really needed it. I always tried to make sure to leave alone the stuff that seemed like it might have real sentimental value to, but of course you can never really tell—

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Anyway, Pete—rather than punching me in the jaw for trying to rob him, he offered me a job. He said he liked the way I had broken in, leaving no trace. He needed a yeggman—um, a safecracker—and I wasn’t too shabby at it, even as inexperienced as I was. So that’s what I did.

[click, static]

I was twenty-two years old and I’d been in New York for all of...eighteen months? And I had somehow fallen in with one of the best thieves in a city filled to the brim with expert criminals.

Up until I got stuck with Harry for half a decade, I had pretty good luck with the people I fell in with.

And now I’ve got you, Birdie—or, I hope I do, after all this. So I think my luck is turning back around.

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