#why do a take like a week to finish one measly drawing these days that's crazy 😔

[wattemeer]

whateverrrrrrr /goes insane//

[say-hwaet]

High Sierra: A Red Dead Redemption Story

Chapter 10: Taking a Gamble Author's note: Sorry this took so long! I've been pretty busy with another fic, but I'm back to working on the rewrite of this fanfiction! I will try to post more regularly now and hopefully, it will be finished before too long. It is a shorter fic by nature, so it should be easy peasy. Summary: After Eliza shared her conversation she had with Edith, Arthur tries to dive deeper into all of the clues he has gathered.

A couple of weeks have passed since Eliza shared her findings with Arthur. Upon learning of her discovery, he decided to do some more digging of his own and has successfully recovered pieces over the last few days. Maybe nothing substantial when standing alone, but when put all together, it might mean something.

What used to be drawings in his sketchbook have since been replaced with hypotheses and clues, all of which have begun to form a coherent picture, hinting at a larger conspiracy than either Eliza or Arthur initially suspected. Each scribbled note and hastily drawn line connects back to one person, in ways both direct and unsettlingly tangential. Lying across his wooden desk in his office, the sketchbook seems to hold more questions than answers.

He feels like he’s been reviewing all of the information for hours, but the pieces of the puzzle are finally starting to connect in his mind. Thomas Downes and Leigh Gray, both victims of the mysterious killings, have something in common--they had both taken a loan from the infamous loan shark, Leopold Strauss. The more he thinks about it, the more this revelation sends shivers down Arthur's spine.

“It can’t just be ideas anymore,” he says out loud to himself. “Gotta put in the leg work now.”

Determined to uncover the truth, Arthur knows what he needs to do. Finding evidence against Strauss won’t be easy, as the man seems to operate under the radar.

Arthur isn’t a fan of technology, but when finishing reports and logging the k9 program’s spending and progress, he has had to, regrettably, use his office computer. For the past few days, once he is off duty, he has scoured the internet for any information, but it seems that he keeps coming up on empty. This is one of those nights.

He thought that this time would be different, maybe something would come up that wasn’t uploaded before. But one doesn’t become a good loan shark by letting information slip on the internet. Maybe he’ll have to resort to the old-fashioned way: by word of mouth or paper.

He leans forward on his desk, resting his elbows on the surface. His eyes look away from the glaring bright screen of his computer to a framed picture of his son, holding his first fish he ever caught. Brook trout are pretty measly on the fisherman’s scale, but the pride in his son’s eyes that day, the way his small hands struggled to hold it steady for the camera, seemed to Arthur like he had caught a great whale. It's moments like these that remind him why he fights so hard, why every dark forest and every hidden truth must be illuminated—not just for himself or the potential victims, but for his son and the future he will inherit. If this world could be a little less murky, a little more just, then all the sleepless nights and haunting uncertainties would be worth it.

“Where else can I try…?” he asks himself. He isn’t a detective, not in the typical LA Noire sense. This isn’t an urban crime. Things aren’t documented in the same fashion.

He looks toward the door and a thought occurs to him.

The file room. Any criminal activity that is not logged in the database, it would be in there.

His gaze returns to the computer with renewed determination. Arthur stands up, pulls on his coat, and decides it's time to take the risk.

He steps out of his office, looking down the dimly lit hallway. He hadn't realized how late it is, and is relieved that no one is around.

Even so, silence is key. Stepping out of his office, he closes the door behind him and walks down the narrow hallway.

He feels like a criminal, his steps light and his eyes vigilant. It would be convenient if Charles were with him now, that way someone could stand and watch.

Arthur discreetly enters the file room, hoping to find something that will connect the dots. As he rummages through the records, the door creaks open, and Captain Monroe steps inside, his stern expression fixed on Arthur.

"What are you doing here after hours, Morgan?" Captain Monroe's voice echoes through the room.

Arthur hurriedly turns around, startled. "Oh, Captain Monroe! I was just...erm...organizing some files," he stammers, trying to feign innocence.

Captain Monroe's eyes narrow suspiciously. "Organizing files, huh? Seems a bit late for that, don't you think?"

Arthur knows he has to tread carefully. "I was just trying to be more efficient, sir. Thought I could get ahead on some paperwork," he offers, praying his excuse would be enough.

Captain Monroe walks a steady pace closer to Arthur, eyeing him suspiciously. "Is that so? Well, it seems more like you were searching for something specific. Care to enlighten me?"

"No, Captain. I swear, just routine paperwork. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Captain Monroe leans in closer, his voice low and sincere. "Arthur, I have known you for a long time. I can sense when something is not right. If you're hiding something, I suggest you come clean."

Arthur feels his body want to move away, but he remains planted. "Captain, I assure you, there's nothing to come clean about. I was just curious about these files. That's all."

Captain Monroe lets out a deep breath, crossing his arms. "Morgan, I've heard some rumors about you poking your nose where it doesn't belong. It seems you've got an unhealthy fixation on these accidents."

Arthur's heart pounds in his chest. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn't anticipated this level of scrutiny. However, he can’t back down now, not when he has finally found some leads. Perhaps, the captain will help him.

"Captain, I believe there's something more to these deaths. Both Downes and Gray are dead within days of each other and both had taken a loan from Leopold Strauss. It can't be a coincidence."

Captain Monroe scoffs, his disbelief evident. "I understand your concern, Morgan, but let the justice system handle it. You're a game warden, not a detective. That is what the Special Operations Unit is for."

Arthur's frustration boils, but he bites his tongue, trying to retain a semblance of professionalism. "With all due respect, Captain, I don't think that Warden Barnes and his team aren't bein’ as thorough as they should be. Don't you think we owe it to these victims to dig deeper? They deserve more than just bein’ dismissed as accidents."

Arthur can see the cognitive dissonance in the captain’s eyes, struggling with keeping it by the book or going on a limb. He bites the skin off of his lower lip, his eyes cast downward for a moment. Arthur holds onto the hope that he’s made a point, maybe Captain Monroe will agree to help him.

Then, after a moment longer, the captain sighs and meets Arthur’s gaze. "Arthur, you've always been an overachiever. Always wanting to be some kind of hero. Do you think you can play detective just because you have a hunch?"

What a blow, but he can’t give up.

Arthur takes a step towards Captain Monroe, lifting his hands in an open gesture. "Captain, I'm not tryin’ to play the hero. I genuinely believe these deaths are linked. I think we owe it to the victims to pursue this further."

Captain Monroe leans in, a stern look on his face. "Loyalties, Arthur. Where do your loyalties lie? With the law, or with anarchy? Are you trying to prove yourself for that promotion you've always wanted?"

Arthur's eyebrows furrow. He's not getting through to the Captain, and it frustrates him. "This ain’t about the promotion! I'm telling you the truth. I want to make a difference and protect the innocent. That is what we all swore to do. But I can't do it alone. I need your help."

Captain Monroe leans back, his tone cold. "I have faith in the justice system, Arthur. That's where this belongs. We investigate poaching and hunting accidents, not supposed conspiracies. Let the system do its job."

"But what if the system fails, Captain? What if there's somethin' bigger at play here? Can't we at least look into it? For the victims' sake?" Arthur makes one desperate plea. He knows that challenging the authority of the captain is risky, but he isn’t one to let things go, not when lives are involved.

Captain Monroe is quiet for a moment before speaking. "No, Morgan. I won't entertain your fantasies. You're straying from your duty. Don't let your ambition blind you. Stick to your duties. Drop this investigation immediately."

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken consequences. Arthur knows in his heart that he can’t stand idly by, waiting for justice to take its course. Lives are at stake, and he can’t let any more innocent blood be shed.

Without another word, Arthur gathers himself and walks out of the file room. He knows what he has to do: he has to take matters into his own hands. The law may be blind, but he isn’t going to let evil roam free, even if he doesn’t have help from Captain Monroe.

***

Fumbling for his keys, Arthur finally unlocks his car and lets himself in the driver’s seat. He lets out a deep exhale as his eyes are cast upon the empty parking lot. Well, except for Captain Monroe’s vehicle.

He needs to keep going. He needs to find different connections.

Who knows people? Who has a way to find out the inner workings? Who knows their way through money?

He turns on the ignition and lets the car idle for a moment.

Then it occurs to him.

Dutch. Dutch and is charismatic air. While he doesn’t want to question Dutch’s business practices, there have been times when his connections have appeared to be…problematic.

Eliza had always doubted Dutch’s motivations whenever Arthur would come over and share the next big idea the music manager was coming up with. “Where does he get all of his money?” she would ask. “It can’t just come out of thin air.”

Maybe there is more to it than Arthur realized.

The car is warmed up, so Arthur puts it in drive and pulls out of the parking lot.

It is pitch black, with not even a single star in the sky. Arthur is no stranger to night driving, and he keeps his eyes alert and watchful, looking for reflecting eyes on the sides of the road. One can never know when a raccoon or lone buck gets the urge to run out into the open road.

And as his eyes scan the view in front of him, he takes a glance at the rearview mirror.

And sees a pair of headlights.

It is hard to get a view of the car, but he knows well enough that they aren’t headlights of any vehicle he recognizes.

It could be someone heading home, like he is.

But this is an unutilized road, especially at this hour.

He can’t just jump to conclusions like this, that would make him too paranoid.

He needs to test his theories. Seeing another road, he makes a quick right without signaling his direction.

If the car behind him mirrors his actions, then there's no doubt — he's being followed. His grip tightens on the steering wheel, fingers pale with the pressure. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. If they are following him, what do they want? Information? To talk to him?

He isn’t so sure he wants to know.

The headlights behind him turn as well, confirming his suspicion. Arthur's jaw sets firm, a blend of fear and determination stiffening his posture. This isn't good. He knows it ain't just paranoia now; someone's got their sights set on him, but for what?

The road ahead is less traveled, canopied by trees and an old fence line that lines the sides of the road. This could be someone’s farm or ranchland, no one is sure to spot him or hear him should something go wrong.

He pushes harder on the gas, picking up speed.

The winding road stretches ahead, shadows playing tricks with Arthur's vision as he navigates sharp turns and uneven surfaces. His heart pounds like a drum in his chest, echoing the thumping of the tires over the gravel. He squints to keep the tailing vehicle in his rearview mirror, watching every move it makes with hawk-like precision. The road narrows, branches scraping against the sides of his truck as he barrels down the path that seems more suited for a horse than a motor vehicle.

That’s when the headlights draw closer and the bumper makes contact with the back of his car.

The jolt sends a shudder through the frame of Arthur's SUV, his pulse racing in tandem with the engine's roar. He grips the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white as he tries to maintain control. The impact wasn't strong enough to disable his vehicle, but it's clear that whoever is behind him isn't just trying to send a message; they are trying to force him off the road.

Arthur's mind races as he considers his options. He could try to outrun them, but with the road getting rougher and his SUV already taking a hit, that might lead to disaster. Alternatively, he could stop and confront them, but that's a risk he's not sure he can afford with everything that's hanging in the balance. Isaac's face flashes in his mind, a sharp reminder that he’s got more than just his own life to consider.

With a gritted determination, Arthur slows his pace slightly, planning his next move. His eyes catch a glimpse of a small clearing just ahead, to the right of the road—a potential spot to maneuver and confront his pursuer under more controlled circumstances. He steels himself, sucking in a sharp breath as he prepares for whatever comes next.

As he approaches the clearing, Arthur abruptly cuts the wheel, steering his SUV off the road and into the clearing, ramming through some old barbed wire. He hears it scratch the side of his car, but he can’t focus on that now. As he tries to navigate the escape off-road, his eyes go back to his rearview mirror.

The headlights are still there.

He curses under his breath. How can he shake them? He wants to think this is just intimidation, but it almost seems that they are trying to accomplish more than that.

The ground beneath his SUV rattles and bounces, soft dirt kicking up behind as he maneuvers through the clearing. Grass and wild brush clutch at the tires, attempting to slow him down, but Arthur's resolve is forged in steel. He presses harder on the accelerator, the engine growling like a caged beast eager for release. In the chaos of movement, his mind reels back to his rodeo days with Hosea, who always said, "Keep your head when all about are losing theirs." But right now, the distant memory can barely pierce the fog of his adrenaline.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur spots an opportunity—a narrow path veering left, and an old farm truck is coming from the opposite direction. It will be cutting it close, but if he times it right, he will lose his assailant.

The farm truck is laden with hay, and it trundles slowly along the path, unaware of the drama unfolding fast toward it. Arthur’s pulse throbs in his ears as he calculates the timing, steering his SUV so it slips behind the truck just as they pass a thick copse of trees, effectively blocking him from view.

His heart hammers against his ribs, loud in the sudden silence as he waits, hidden by the hay-laden truck and the dense foliage. He quickly turns off his lights for a moment, driving blind but slowing down just enough. He peers through a gap in the tree branches, eyes squinting as he scans for any sign of the headlights that have been dogging him. Seconds tick by, each one stretched thin like a wire pulled taut. Then, relief washes over Arthur as the headlights don’t reappear from behind the cover of trees and truck. He lets out a long, shuddering breath he didn't realize he was holding, his hands trembling on the wheel.

Now, hidden away in this makeshift refuge, Arthur allows himself a moment to think, his mind racing as fast as his heart. He knows that he must figure out who is chasing him and why. His life as a game warden has taught him to be watchful, to notice the out-of-place details that might have been ignored by even the most avid of outdoorsmen.

And there is no doubt in his mind that whoever was behind that wheel, is also connected to the two murders.

After waiting for almost thirty minutes, he relaxes his grip on the steering wheel, and gets back on the road to drive home.

Come morning, he has to pay a social call to Mr. Van Der Linde.

***

The morning sun casts a golden glow upon the small city of Pine Crest, nestled in the heart of High Sierra. Arthur walks with purpose towards the old Victorian house that serves as Dutch Van Der Linde's office. His heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and determination, he is on a mission to uncover the truth behind the mysterious killings that plagued the state he loves. And after last night, he is more convinced than ever that it is more than what the media or even Captain Monroe seems to believe.

He walks up the steps calmly, as though he didn’t just get accosted by an unknown vehicle last night. He turns to look at the beaten-up car over his shoulder. He really wishes he had driven his truck this morning, but he has to take it to the Call Me Uncle’s auto body shop, anyway.

He exhales, running a hand down his face, and reaches for the door. Letting himself inside, he closes the door quietly behind him. The entire house has been remodeled to function as a business establishment while keeping that old Victorian charm. Steadying himself, he looks ahead to his secretary at the front desk and they smile at each other. She knows who he is and is already picking up her phone to let Dutch know.

As he turns to absentmindedly peruse, a familiar figure catches the corner of his eye.

It is Mary. She is standing in the corner of the waiting room with a tablet and stylus in her hand, writing something.

Her shiny, dark hair cascades down her shoulders, contrasting against her fair skin. In a moment of hesitation, Arthur's mind swirls with bittersweet memories of their past. He hasn’t seen her hair like that since they were teenagers. He can still recall the nights they spent stargazing, promising each other forever.

And just as he is about to turn back around and leave, she lifts her head from her tablet and their eyes meet.

"Arthur!" Marcy calls out, her voice laced with a mix of joy and longing. She hurries over to him, as fast as she can in that narrow pencil skirt she wears. The pearls strung about her neck catch the light from the window, making her look like the queen of Sheba.

Startled, Arthur just looks at her. "Mary," he murmurs, caught off guard by her excitement. The unresolved emotions between them strain the air, like a taut wire ready to snap.

Mary locks her tablet and holds it close to her chest, her eyes never leaving him. "I've been waiting for you. It's been a while since we last talked, and I thought we could catch up over dinner tonight."

His heart twists in his chest, torn between the turbulent memories of their past and the tangled web of the present. "Mary, I–" he begins, only to be interrupted by her persistent pleading.

"Please, Arthur." she implores, her voice tinged with a mix of desperation and longing. “I…I really want to talk to you.”

Right. That’s all she wants to do is talk. It seems that is all they ever do is talk, but nothing is really ever said. What is this all for? What is the goal? How can he get his mind made up when all is ever done is talk?

No, he can’t do this. He doesn’t have time for words. Every second that goes by is a second wasted in not solving these two murders. His own problems will just have to wait.

Arthur's gaze flickers with regret as he struggles to find the right words. "Mary, I am knee-deep in somethin’ right now. I can't explain it, but it's very important."

Mary's eyes soften, a hint of confusion glimmering in their depths. "I'm not sure I understand."

He shakes his head. "Like I said, it is too difficult to explain."

Her smile fades, but just as quickly as it left it reappears, her eyelashes fluttering past her sparkling irises. "You can explain it to me over dinner then," she offers.

Arthur hesitates, his mind racing with thoughts of his investigation and the danger lurking in the shadows. He has to let her down gently, lest they make a scene in front of Dutch’s secretary. "Mary, I appreciate the offer, but I can’t think about dinners right now. It just isn't the right time."

Mary's face contorts with determination as she leans in closer, her voice pleading and desperate. "Please, Arthur," she implores, her eyes searching his for any sign of remorse. "You promised you would call me, but you never did." Her words are laced with disappointment and a touch of anger, betraying the hurt she feels from being ignored by someone she thought still cared.

Before Arthur can respond, the door to Dutch's office swings open, revealing the aging manager of the country rock band. Dutch is impeccably styled, his charming smile painting an illusion of success.

He couldn’t have come at a better time. Arthur lets out a sigh of relief and Mary catches it, looking at him with a pinched brow.

"Arthur!" Dutch exclaims jovially, and once within arm’s reach, he grips Arthur in a bone-crushing embrace. "I was just on the phone talking to John about the tour. We're goin’ to take the high country by storm!" He steps aside, motioning for Arthur to come into the office. “Why don’t we talk about it?”

Arthur nods. “Shoah, Dutch.”

Mary steps forward, raising a forefinger. “Mr. Van Der Linde—”

“In a minute, Mary.” Disregarding Mrs. Linton, Dutch leads Arthur towards his office. Arthur doesn’t look back at Mary; he already knows the expression on her face. They step right through the threshold and Dutch closes the door behind them, leaving Mary to her own thoughts.

“Make yourself comfortable, son,” Dutch says warmly as he removes his hand from Arthur’s shoulder and makes his way back to his desk. Arthur pauses in his steps to refamiliarize himself with Dutch’s office.

Inside, the office exudes an old-world charm. Faded photographs adorned the walls, capturing moments of triumph and camaraderie. Dutch smiles at Arthur, the lines etched on his face told tales of a life lived on the edge, of risks taken for the sake of adventure. Arthur respected him, and admired him, but also saw the vulnerability that lay beneath the charming facade.

"How's Annabelle, Dutch?" Arthur asks, lifting up an old figurine off of Dutch's desk.

"Oh, still visiting her sister," he sighs.

"So that make-up artiste must be doing a marvelous job."

"Molly? Sure. Marvelous woman. Can do that cat eye like no one else can."

Arthur forces a smile, the weight of his discovery heavy on his shoulders. He needs answers and Dutch has always seemed to have the uncanny ability to know everyone. Seizing the opportunity, Arthur now searches for a moment to broach the topic that lingered in the air like an unsolved mystery. But he needs to appeal to the man’s ego first.

“So business must be real good then, huh?”

Dutch studies the game warden with a raised brow. “I suppose.”

“Must take a lot of footwork to get a business like yours off the ground, right?”

Dutch slowly sits down in his leather chair. “Sure.”

“And a lot of networking? Even if the people ain’t in the same business as you?”

There is a sudden silence in the room and Dutch’s gaze narrows. “Arthur, what the hell are you getting at?”

Arthur finally sets that ridiculous trinket back on Dutch’s desk and rests both hands on its edge, casting a serious gaze. "Dutch, do you know anything about a man named Leopold Strauss?" he asks, his voice laced with both curiosity and suspicion.

Dutch's eyes flicker with a hint of unease, his jovial facade slipping for a moment. "Strauss? Why do you ask, old friend?"

Arthur takes a deep breath, his heart pounding. "I've been investigating a series of killings linked to him, Dutch. The victims, Mr. Downes and Leigh Gray, both had connections to Strauss."

A fire ignites in Dutch's eyes, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "Arthur, you're playing with fire here. Strauss is not someone you want to mess with. Trust. Me."

But Arthur's resolve only strengthens, fueled by the knowledge of Strauss' true nature. "Dutch, I've uncovered something dark about him. Those two people who borrowed from him? They ended up dead," he emphasizes, a tremor of anger and fear running through his body.

Dutch’s eyes widen. "Dead?"

"Yes, Dutch. Haven't you seen the news?”

“Yes, I’ve seen the news! But they’ve all been saying—!”

Arthur cuts him off, laying out the truth bare. “Those deaths weren't accidents." There is a dead pause, only the sound of Dutch’s antique grandfather clock ticking rhythmically in the silence. “Someone doesn’t want folk to know, and I am determined to find out why.”

Dutch shakes his head. “You’re just a game warden. You aren’t the FBI or…or some other highfalutin detective agency.”

“Someone tried to kill me last night.”

Dutch looks back up at Arthur, his mouth agape. “What?”

“You heard me. A dark car chased me. Ran me off the road. Someone wants me either dead or to stop lookin’ into this. Well, I don’t want there to be another victim. And if Strauss is part of it, I need to talk to him and find out who is all on his list.”

Dutch becomes quiet, his fingertips pressed together as his elbows rest on the top of his desk. Arthur slowly rises to a standing position, eyeing him carefully.

Dutch's chair screeches as he abruptly stands up and paces around the room, his movements tense and agitated. Arthur's eyes track him, a sense of unease growing in his gut as he waits for Dutch to speak.

With a frustrated sigh, Dutch runs a hand through his hair, revealing the weight of his own dark secrets etched on his face like deep scars. The tension in the room thickens with each passing moment, until it feels suffocating and unbearable.

"Arthur, I have a confession to make," Dutch begins with a trembling voice, his face pale and tense with regret. "I...I also took a loan from Strauss." As their eyes lock, Arthur's heart drops and his mind races with alarm. "I'm financially ruined, and I've been desperately relying on John's music just to stay afloat." His words hang heavy in the air as they both come to terms with the crushing weight of their dire situation.

Arthur's heart sinks. This revelation strikes him like a blow to the gut. If Dutch has been involved with Strauss, that means that he, too, could become a victim of this dark web of deceit. He wrestles with this knowledge, now also knowing that he’s been taking advantage of John for who knows how long. And Dutch still lives lavishly. All the parties, promos, hiring Mary, all of it has been riding on John and his recent success.

However, even with all of that, Dutch is still in danger and could still share the same fate as the two others, if his theory is correct about the connection to Strauss. Arthur can’t allow that to happen. He has a responsibility to protect his friend. It was what he swore to do when he became a game warden.

His brow pinches as he looks at the bankrupt manager, shaking his head softly. "Why, Dutch?"

Dutch's face twists in a mix of guilt and vulnerability. He looks down at the floor, fumbling for an answer. "Arthur, I...I couldn't see another way out. We needed money, and Leopold offered it to me. I...I took the loan, hoping I could turn things around. John has worked hard to get the band going."

“You’re damned right, he has…” Arthur says sharply but as he looks into Dutch’s eyes, he knows that he already recognizes that. Arthur lets out a deep exhale and goes to Dutch, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You should have trusted us, Dutch. We would have found a way, all of us. Now you could be in danger."

Dutch sighs, nodding his head. "I know, Arthur, and I'm sorry. Please, don't speak of this John. He doesn't need to carry the burden of my mistakes."

Arthur thinks for a moment, weighing his options. It won’t do John any good to know, at least right now. The priority is to get Dutch off of Strauss’ list and see if this theory even holds any weight. There will be a time of confessions and redemption later.

After a minute later, Arthur sighs and nods his head."Alright, Dutch, I'll keep your secret," he answers firmly. "But you're coming with me to confront Strauss. I'll protect your family, no matter the cost."

Dutch nods, a sense of relief coming over him. "Agreed, Arthur. Thank you." Arthur removes his hand from Dutch’s shoulder. “When are you going?”

Arthur doesn’t take but a second to answer. “Right now.”

Dutch nods, his charismatic and confident gaze returning. “Alright. Let’s go.”

As Arthur and Dutch leave the office, Arthur avoids meeting Mary's gaze. He can feel her eyes on him, filled with disappointment and hurt. But he knows her well enough to know that their story is far from over. The tension between them crackles like electricity, every word left unsaid hanging in the air. A part of him wants to turn back, to apologize and make things right. But another part of him knows it's too late for that. The sun continues its path across the sky, casting a warm glow over the street as Dutch and Arthur step outside, his mind lost in thoughts about what could have been.

A loud snort from Dutch interrupts his thoughts. “My god, Arthur, what the hell happened to your car?”

“The detour I had to take last night remember?” He walks around to the driver's side. “Just get in.”

And Dutch, while not being above poverty, reluctantly gets in and they drive off to pay a visit to Leopold Strauss.

Tag Requests:

@moeitsu @photo1030 @cassietrn

[buckysgoldenheart]

Unexpectedly Bitten

Vampire!Henry Cavill x Reader

Part 1 of 6 (or 7)

SO...I watched 30 Days of Night, and somehow I got to this. The plots are nothing alike and the vampires in the movie are creepy, but I figured Henry would obviously be a hot one, thus this mess was born!

This is a Vampire!Henry x Reader story where each chapter, while chronological, is a different conversation or event during the course of their evolving relationship. But we kinda just jump right in. 

Summary: Your ex gets into some trouble with Vampires, and his mistakes lead the bloodsuckers back to you. After seeing you, one vampire gets a little attached and he’s taking his time deciding what he plans to do with you, but whatever it is, you’re not afraid. In fact, you might just be a little attached to him too. 

Warnings: cursing, smut, violence. (Count on spelling mistakes or repeating words too often. it’s very likely.)

-----

Part 1: When Idiots Make Deals

Words: 1330

There was one thing everyone in your town knew: Don’t made deals with Vampires. It was an unspoken rule, a law to some. Werewolves, fine. They keep their word, and a deal with them is an honorable one through and through. Demons, wraiths, witches, The Devil—literally, anything would be better than a Vampire. But some still get entangled with them, though it never ends well. It’s as if they forget the odds of surviving these agreements. Vampires often ask for difficult things, and if you can’t deliver, you die.

Now, there was one other thing you always knew: Your ex was an idiot. An idiot who made idiotic choices and got his idiotic ass in heaps of trouble. So, when he pounded on your door in the middle of the night, sweating and panting, it was clear he’d, once again, fucked up.

“Close the door. Close the door,” Jason bolted into your apartment on shaky steps, fisting his fingers in his ash blond hair as if to tug out the strands.

“It’s one a.m., Jason.” You yawned. “What have you done now?”

He looked at you nervously, and said, “Ah, look, Y/N, I fucked up.” Shocker, you thought. “I, uh, made a deal.”

“And didn’t hold up your end again? Oh, boy, consider me stunned. Who’d you piss of this time? Another wraith?”

Jason swallowed and shook his head.

Your eyebrows scrunched together. Jason didn’t usually venture outside of wraith deals, or the occasional werewolf, but werewolves were not nearly as threatening. “Demon?”

He shook his head again, and your arms rose before they flopped back down to your sides.

“Well, witches are far and few between, and I doubt you met The Devil, so what else—” You paused, your eyes widening as Jason winced. “Have you lost your goddamn mind!”

“It was a good deal, ok? I thought I had it in the bag.”

Your heartbeat doubled in speed. “What did you promise them, Jason?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, and his palm pulled away glistening with sweat. “Just a bit of daytime shit.”

“Bodies?” Your voice rose. Women often had to be on the lookout during the day with extra caution. It was easier to lure prey when the sun was out. Centuries old half-vampires could survive in the sun for some time, so it was they, or a rare dealmaker, who tracked females to hand over to their superiors. As it was, three women on average went missing every week.

“They mentioned something about needing a few extra for some big boss or whatever. It’s some sacrificial shit.”

“They told you their plans?” You asked skeptically. If they told him their secrets, then they probably planned to kill him anyway.

“I overheard.”

“And you ran out of time?”

He dragged a hand down his face. “Deadline was yesterday.”

“God damn it, Jason! So, you came here?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go!”

“You don’t have anywhere to go because you keep trying to hide out in people’s houses after you fuck up! Now, get out!” You snapped, pointing at the door. “You’re going to get me killed. It’s only a matter of time before—”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before your door slammed open and a dark silhouette illuminated by the hallway lighting filled the space. A second later, your head shot to the swooshing sound of a window being shoved up just enough for a figure to easily slip through.

This was exactly how these things--failed deals with vampires--went down. You’d heard the rumors, which you took with a grain of salt considering survivors of this same situation did not exist to confirm or deny them. But this was certainly close enough to the tales you’d heard as a child. You, of course, wouldn’t survive to confirm or deny the rumors and tales either.

The men stepped forward, closing in on you and Jason with each step, effectively trapping you. Though it was not like you would bother trying to run. They were practically twice the size of Jason. Taller, broader, stronger, and as their faces unveiled under the glow of your lamp, you noticed, insanely more attractive. Beautiful even. They were chiseled like gods, but all full-vampires were heard to be. A trick to draw pathetic humans in. After all, average people are drawn to two things in life: sex and beauty. Vampires embodied both more than any human could, even on their best day.

Before you could stare much more, you were gripped harshly by the arm and thrown to the side like a dirty dishtowel. Your body slammed hard enough into the wall to create a small dent and it jostled your brain in its skull, dizzying you enough that you could barely make out the threatening conversation yards away from you.

“Why must they always fail us?” A dark-haired vampire said to a blond. “It’s very disappointing.”

“They just don’t have it in them.”

The dark one tsked as he walked around Jason in a slow circle, sizing him up. “We give them a chance to prove themselves. They ask for whatever we can provide and all we ask in return is a few measly bodies.” He stopped his trail when he was in front of Jason again, then leaned down the five inches necessary for them to be eyelevel. “We could have had respect for you. But now what are you more than a meal, hmm?”

“G-Give me a-another day,” Jason stuttered, his whole body visibly trembling.

“That’s not how this works, blood-bag,” The blond said as he crossed his arms. “One chance, only.”

“W-What about her? You can have her!”

You did your best to lift your head only to be met with three sets of eyes on your face. One pair a glowing gray-blue. One, a dull, dark green. And the last, a cerulean so intensely bright they practically burned through your own. 

Yet, those ones were soft as they scanned your features, stopping at your lips a moment longer before looking back at your ex. “We asked for three.”

“I-I can get you two more by tomorrow, I swear.” Jason’s lip quivered like the pitiful rat he was, and if you had your full strength, you’d have run up and throttled him for trading you like meat. But your body ached, and your brain was still fuzzy from knocking your head into plaster.

The vampire huffed out a deep breath, shaking his head and crossing his toned arms. “I don’t know what it is,” He said. “But I just don’t trust you.” Then he looked past Jason’s head, nodding to his friend. You jolted at the sound of bone snapping, and watched, somehow calm, as Jason’s lifeless body fell at the feet of the blond. But the view was blocked moments later when the dark-haired vampire crouched in front of your exhausted, crumpled body. He was so much more beautiful up close, and you couldn’t seem to pay attention to anything other than how perfect he was. 

He studied every bit of you in silence until his friend interrupted. “So are we taking her, Henry, or is she to be a dead duck like this one,” The friend asked, then lightly kicked at Jason’s limp body.

“No need for her to die. She’s just an innocent bystander,” The vampire, Henry, said. You liked his name, it somehow suit him. You liked his voice more. He reached forward and grabbed a tip of your hair, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger before letting go, then hummed and ran a knuckle down your cheek. “You want to come home with me, Little Lamb?”

Despite how it should have been, panic alarms did not go off in your head, but you still said, as dignified as you could, “No.”

He sighed and cocked his head. “That was not the answer I was hoping for. Unfortunately, Lamb, what you want makes little difference to me.”

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

Tags: @meganwinchester1999 @dani-si @agniavateira @tumblnewby @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity @aquariuslavenderhoney @harrysthiccthighss​

[nohoney]

You and Me (And Him)

notes: Part 2 of the Us Series, also posted on my ao3

characters: Dabi/Touya Todoroki, Takami Keigo/Hawks

warnings: 18+, drug use, toxic relationships, open relationships, angsty-ish, threesome

summary: 

“If this happens… will it be just sex or will it be more?”

Golden eyes stare back at you. “It can be whatever you want it to be (Name).”

You scrutinize him under your gaze for a little bit, silent for a few moments before asking, “Will you kiss me?”

“Of course.”

Touya had introduced you to Keigo when your relationship was just two months old. You remember being astounded by his eyes at first, they were so bright and friendly as opposed to Touya’s which were piercing and intimidating. Keigo was such an easy going guy, his manner of speaking and his certain lilts when he talked made you feel comfortable immediately despite how nervous you were at first. He fit easily into your life, a friend that you knew you could rely on for almost anything.

Where Touya was apathetic and aloof, Keigo was magnetic and charming.

It was a wonder how those two got along, you had to figure that the ‘opposites attract’ concept worked out for them. You’re not certain what the turning point was in their relationship that Keigo received permission to address Touya by his birth name, but obviously it meant a lot to your boyfriend and Keigo seemed touch to be apart of his inner circle. Aside from pills they ingested and the powders they snorted that bonded them together, they had a genuine friendship.

It goes to say that Touya and Keigo are close, and they’re close enough where apparently there’s an option of sharing you between the two of them.

“I gave you permission to fuck who you want doll, Keigo is not the worst person you could choose. In fact, I’d like it if he were the one to keep you warm for me.”

You liked to believe that you and Keigo had a strictly platonic friendship, but Touya had essentially ruined that perspective for you now.

Had Keigo always felt that way from the very start or was it gradual during your budding friendship? Did he want to be your second boyfriend or was he looking for something a little more casual?

Those were all important questions but there was one that you needed answered first before you did anything with Keigo.

You were working up the nerve to ask Touya this ever since that day when he fucked you while Keigo was right beside you. He sat on the edge of his couch with his laptop on the coffee table, reading over an article needed for one of his classes. Drug dealer aside, he was actually a good student, breezing through his classes easily. Though you know that the only reason why he would finish up so quickly was so that it wouldn’t interfere as much with his dealing. As opposed to Keigo who liked to sit down and really make sure that he retained the knowledge.

“Touya, can I ask you something?” you ask from your end of the couch, shifting your feet towards Touya until they were on his lap. He props your feet in his lap and he strokes his hands over your shins and calves, his expression bored but attentive as he turns to look at you. “That thing you said before about Keigo wanting to… do stuff with me. You weren’t just saying that so that I’d bother you less when you go out right?”

When you go out and sell to your whores. You want to add that part but you know it’s best not to bring it up; you’ve already had this conversation with him and it’s too soon to open it back up again.

“I said it because I know that Keigo will treat you right doll. I trust him and I know that he’d be good to you.” Touya answers honestly.

“You’re good to me.” you tease, lightly nudging your foot up into his hand.

Touya smirks at you and crawls his way over to your side of the sofa. He moves to make you sit on his lap, your legs straddling him as he leans back against the sofa. Your hands touch his shoulders before drawing down, your index fingers tracing his chest beneath the white, sleeveless shirt that he’s wearing. “I’m fucking great to you doll. I’m so fucking great to you that I wouldn’t mind if you fucked my closest friend.”

You grind down on Touya’s lap, his cock stirring beneath the dark sweats that he’s wearing and moan when he thrusts up into you. Ghosting your lips over his, you tease him just a little bit when he tries to go in for a kiss and pull back with a giggle. Touya isn’t having it though, putting his hand on the back of your neck and keeping you in place so that he can go in for a proper kiss. You like when he asserts himself like this over you and renders you helpless before him, it gets you going. “I wouldn’t mind if you fucked me right now baby.” you purr.

The discussion is tabled for now as you ride Touya’s cock and he leaves you a shaking mess afterwards.

Keigo comes to the Touya’s apartment later on during the week. You walk in after finishing up at your part time job to see them splitting an eightball between the two of them at the dinner table. You’d never done more than a gram of coke before and even then you usually split up that gram with one another person. “Geez, what’s the special occasion?” you ask as you set your purse down and shrug off your sweater.

“Nothing in particular, just thought of relaxing today.” Touya answers as if it’s the normal thing in the world. Relaxing with a six pack of beers with the boys, that’s normal; relaxing with an eightball of cocaine with the boys, that’s not.

But this is your life with Touya as your boyfriend and as long as he or Keigo don’t overdose on you, then everything should be fine. You know that this definitely is not their first time and you once again remind yourself about the gap between you and the boys.

“Dove, do you want a line?” Keigo asks as he uses a credit card to cut three white lines on the surface of one of the dinner plates. You don’t think it’s really a question because he pretty much made a third one anyway for you to take. He’s waving you over, an expectant smile on his face that you can’t bring yourself to say no to. Instead of sitting in the chair next to him, Keigo pulls you onto his lap instead and hands you a rolled up bill.

Just one line. you think to yourself as you inhale the powder through the bill.

That one line ends up becoming ten instead, very measly compared to the boys but considered a lot for yourself.

Touya and Keigo pretty much polish off the rest of the eightball and talk amongst themselves at the dining table still while you moved yourself over to the couch. Laying on your stomach and facing away from the boys, you idly scroll through your social media on your phone to keep yourself entertained. Your brain is a little wired so you’re just waiting for the coke to pass through your system and then you can sleep properly. From behind, a hand goes underneath your shirt and slowly smooths up your spine. It feels pleasant and your body shudders in response, pushing back against the hand as a silent beg for more. You’re surprised that Touya is massaging you, most of the time he tends to just skim the tips of his fingers all over your back until you fall asleep. Deft fingers press into the right spots on your back and you can’t help but let out a quiet moan along with a whined out, “Thank you baby.”

“You’re welcome dove.”

You turn back to see that Keigo had been the one massaging you while Touya just remained at the table, watching from his seat with eyes full of mirth and a grin to match.

How blatant of the both of them.

And that’s only the beginning.

Every instance Keigo is in your presence, he begins to invade your personal space more often and pushes the boundaries of your friendship into something more. Touches to your waist or the small of your back, quick pecks to your cheek or your lips, sometimes putting his hand on your thigh, even his pet names become a little more affectionate like little dove or songbird. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable per se but you’ve yet to really come to a conclusion about what you want to do about him.

You know that if you don’t say anything about it, if you don’t verbalize a ‘no’ or ‘stop’, Keigo’s just going to keep on going. After all, if you don’t stop one's actions they assume that it’s okay to keep on going and possibly to do more.

It appears that Touya’s getting a little impatient with your inaction, confronting you about it after fucking in the backseat of his car one day.

“So are you going to let Keigo smash or what (Name)?”

“I… don’t know. You and me and him, don't you think it will be weird?”

"Only if you make it weird."

You lay naked together rather comfortably despite the small space, your cheek resting against his chest where his heart is beating so close to your ear while he’s petting your head. It’s quiet between the two of you, just trying to catch your breath before having to get dressed and dropped off to your own bed. You want to be in Touya’s bed or have him sleep in yours, but he has a drop off to replenish his inventory later on and wants you where he knows you’re safe. It’s sweet how he doesn’t risk you like that, he only allows you to know so much. Maybe that’s part of the reason why he’s pushing Keigo onto you, to keep an eye on you when he’s not able to.

Touya loves having you in his sights, doesn’t like when you stray too far from him, even if he doesn’t show it on his face. You know by his tells, squeezed just a little too tight in a hug or the constant question he asks just right before you leave ‘are you sure?’ or the way his jaw clenches just a smidge too tight when you want to sleep in your own bed instead of his.

He pats the back of your head twice to let you know to get up.

Touya’s quicker to get dressed and you move to the side so that he can crawl to the driver’s side first. You’re still pulling on your pants when you feel his large hand wrap around your bicep to get your attention. “Baby?”

“If you don’t want to do anything with Keigo, that’s fine (Name). The least you can do is to tell him to stop flirting if you’re not interested though.” Touya tells you, a hint of irritation behind his tone. You don’t get to say anything else as he crawls to get to the driver’s seat and starts up the car. “Come on, I can’t be late.”

You sleep alone in your bed that night, thinking about you and Keigo and Touya.

A few more days pass before you finally give an answer.

Touya holds you from behind, his arm curled around your waist and his face nuzzled against the back of your head, he’s resting in your bed peacefully after a long night of being up. It’s getting close to noon and you’ve pretty much skipped your classes for the day because his hold on you is iron tight. He’s still fast asleep but you’re wide awake and desperate to use the bathroom to pee so you try to wriggle out of his hold. The movement disgruntles Touya but he releases you to flop on his back to continue sleeping.

You relieve yourself and wash your hands in the sink, glancing up at the mirror to check your complexion briefly before walking back into your room. Touya always looks most peaceful when he’s asleep, not like the bored expression he’s always sporting on his face whenever he’s out in public. You get back in the bed, not with the intention to sleep more, but you just want to be close to your boyfriend just a little bit longer. Reaching a hand out to massage his scalp, your fingers are brushing through his hair and he groans under your touch. You hold in a giggle as Touya sticks his hand down his boxer briefs, just letting his hand rest on his soft cock and doing nothing else but continuing to sleep.

“Touya? Touya, it’s almost noon.” you call out to him.

“… Doll.” he grunts out, slightly annoyed at being woken up.

“You want something to eat? You hungry?”

Touya just dismissively waves his other hand at you, the one that’s not shoved into his underwear.

“Okay, I’ll just make something so that you can have the leftovers later on and I want to have a proper threesome with Keigo.” The last part you just quickly blurted out to get it out of the way.

There… said it, finally told him what I want to do.

He’s silent for a few seconds before he opens his eyes to look at you. “It can just be you and him doll, I’m not making it a requirement for me to be there.”

“I know but I was thinking about it and I think I just want to officially induct Keigo by having a proper threesome.”

Touya pulls his hand out from his underwear and pats his thigh, signaling you to come sit on his lap. He puts his hands on your hips as you sit on his cock, his thumbs teasing the hem of your panties and has you grinding slightly on him. “You want Keigo to stuff your mouth while I drill this slutty pussy? Or I can fuck your face instead and he can go balls deep in you? How about double penetration? You love it when I play with your ass while I fuck up your pussy with my cock. I think it’d be nice to cream you in both of your holes. Or maybe we’ll just cum on your sexy body together. Last time he came on your tits, you have no idea how wild that drove him.”

“Okay, you sound way more excited for it than I am.” you laugh as you take Touya’s hands off your hips and lace your fingers together. “But yeah, I want to do this… with Keigo.”

“Alright doll but you have to be the one to tell him.”

And so you do later on that day, Touya smacks your ass on the way out of his apartment as you go to meet up with Keigo. He gives you a shit eating grin as he watches you walk away, proud that he can see the slight limp in your step.

So you sit with Keigo at a booth in back inside a cafe as he tells you about his week; he’s always busy in between his classes, completing his lab work, studying and tutoring. You’ve realized very early on that he likes to be a busy person, he likes keeps his scheduled jam packed sometimes. Yet he handles the load of all his responsibilities with ease, like he’s barely trying and that it’s as easy as hanging up a shirt and moving onto the next. You’re certain that if you even attempted to imitate his lifestyle that you wouldn’t be able to handle it as well and just burn out.

It could be the Adderall that Touya supplied to Keigo that helped him sometimes, but even without it he still held himself together rather well.

You’re trying to find the right way to tell Keigo, wondering what’s a smooth transition into telling him-

“Let’s have another threesome.”

Way to be fucking smooth!

Keigo was in the middle of telling you about this plant nursery he thought you’d like when you interrupted him. His golden eyes are set wide in surprise, as if someone had put him on pause and he’s waiting to be set right again. He’s still for a few seconds when he finally blinks and looks at you.

Golden eyes just stare at you and you’re squirming under his gaze.

Maybe I waited too long and he’s not interested anymore?

“Aw dove, you realize how cute you look right now? You’re like a shy schoolgirl asking to hold hands for the very first time.” Keigo coos at you, leaning his cheek into the palm of his hand and smiling. “You sure you want to? I’m also okay if you want nothing to change between us, I love being your friend.”

“A friend who wants to fuck you.” You remember Touya’s words from that time.

You nod your head and reach for his hand to take it in yours. “I just have to know something. I already asked Touya but I need to hear this from the only person I know that probably knows him the best. You’ll be honest with me, won’t you?”

Keigo’s hands are warm as he gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Of course (Name).”

“It’s just, you know, the whole thing with Touya and the other girls that he does his business with… I’m not accepting it still, I guess I’m just letting it happen because he insists that I’m the only one that gets all this special treatment from and I’m believing him for the time being. I just wanted it to be me and him, just us, and now there’s you. I just need to know that he’s not proposing us, this arrangement, so that I’ll harass him less when he goes to see them.”

Despite the arrangement of bringing Keigo in, no matter what your relationship with Touya comes first. It still bothers you when he goes out to the others and you do your best to not let your jealously show, there’s no point in having consistent arguments about it. But you can’t help the paranoia in your heart that he only proposed this so that you don’t have a reason to bother him. As long as you have someone else to sleep with then Touya can continue doing what he’s doing, that’s what you think.

Keigo sighs as he holds your hands in his, his thumb gently rubbing over your knuckles. “Don’t tell him that I told you this but there used to be more girls before you came along.”

Your jaw clenches.

“How many of them do you know of at the moment?” Keigo asks.

“Three or four I think.” you answer.

“It used to be eight. After he met you, he pretty much cut that list down to half.”

Your heart twists at the truth but it still changes nothing. “So I’m supposed to feel grateful that he liked me enough to only keep half the whores he still wants to fuck? He says that I’m his number one but what happens when he ends up liking whore #4 more? Am I just going to get bumped down the list? Am I just whore #1 for the time being?”

Keigo scratches the back of his head and seems a bit reluctant all of a sudden but he continues to speak to ease your doubts. “It’s not like that dove, it really isn’t. Touya’s never been the best with confronting his feelings but I see how he cares for you. I know to you it seems like he still has whores he wants to hang onto, but in reality he’s been slowly letting go so that he can focus on you. I can’t tell you when the others will be gone but all I know is that you’re his priority. This is new for Touya, he’s never had a real relationship before you. All he’s ever had is just a casual thing—hell the girls that he’s sold to, you can’t even call it casual, it’s just-”

“Business.” Touya’s used that word plenty of times.

You already had a feeling that he had commitment issues, it’s obvious in the way he keeps you around but still sees the others.

“I remember how upset Touya was when you left that one time to sleep with someone else because you were angry at him. I’d never seen him get so upset over anyone else (Name), it’s just been you. The feelings he has for you, it's intense.”

“My question still isn’t answered Keigo: does Touya only want this to happen so that I’ll bother him less when he goes out? Like it’s okay for him to go out and get his dick wet, struggling with whatever feelings he has for us, while I’m wetting yours? Is it just easier for him knowing a friend is plowing me instead of a stranger? It just all seems so convenient for him.”

Keigo’s posture stiffens a little bit. “He knows that he’s the one who proposed it but he didn’t want to backtrack and change his mind once he realized that you shouldn’t be a random whore for someone else to use as they please… ironic coming from the guy that uses random whores as he pleases. He feels you only deserve to get fucked by people who love you, those were his words.”

“I trust him and I know he’d be good to you.”

Whoa… love? No one said anything about love.

Touya tells you how much he loves your pussy, he’s never said himself that he loves you. And Keigo? He just said not too long about that he loves being your friend…

“Wait, did Touya actually say that he loves me? What kind of love are we talking about?”

Keigo’s golden eyes briefly widen in surprise before realizing that he might have said too much, speaking of things that Touya told him he wasn’t ready to talk about with you just yet. “I… shit, I wasn’t supposed to say that… uh fuck I can’t really speak for Touya.” Keigo curses and takes his hand back, scrunching his hand in his blond hair and looks down in embarrassment. “He’s going to kill me.”

What happened to just proposing a simple threesome? You didn’t realize that all these feelings were going to be involved when you were going to talk to him today.

“Keigo, you are being honest with me though right? You’re not lying?”

Golden eyes look up at you, full of conviction. “I could never lie to you (Name).”

You hate that Touya still sees his other whores, he sells to them and fucks them. It didn’t matter that it’s been impersonal this entire time with the others, it just hurt that you couldn’t have all of him. And yet Keigo’s admission had just changed everything, all with just one four letter word, that apparently Touya was more wrapped around your finger than you thought. The situation itself is still twisted but you’re not trying to escape it. Instead you sink deeper and deeper into it.

"Did Touya say he loves me?" you ask, not surprised that your question is met with silence. It's clear that Keigo wasn't supposed to mention that to you at all. "Do you believe what he said? That I should only be fucked by people who love me? Do you love me Keigo and is that love the same as Touya's?"

His eyes betray nothing, now set on remaining mum when it comes to this topic it seems. His silence is an answer in of itself, though it's not exactly a clear one. You won't waste anymore time asking these questions, you set out here with a mission. “If this happens… will it be just sex or will it be more?”

Golden eyes stare back at you. “It can be whatever you want it to be (Name).”

You scrutinize him under your gaze for a little bit, silent for a few moments before asking, “Will you kiss me?”

“Of course.”

The kiss is nothing like the one at the house party when the two of you were rolling on ecstasy. There’s no enhanced euphoria to make it better or any other substance to get in the way of what it is; just a tender, chaste kiss. Luckily you two are seated in the back so there’s no one around to witness this, not like at the house party with so many people around. Even when you pull back, Keigo still leans forward to pepper your face with little pecks here and there.

You’re leading Keigo by the hand back to Touya’s place, the door already unlocked for you since you know he wasn’t going out today anyway. He’s emerging from his bedroom and grins at you when he sees you holding Keigo’s hand. A knowing grin comes onto his face as he leans against the wall, looking you up and down.

“Uh where should we do this?” you ask, squeezing Keigo’s hand and shifting your weight from one leg to the other in nervousness.

Touya approaches you and kisses your forehead before taking your other hand in his own. “Well what’s a place to have a ‘proper threesome’ doll? Just the bedroom? Last time we fucked on a couch so I think it’ll do just fine this time as well.”

“A proper threesome? Is that what you called it songbird? That’s so cute.” Keigo laughs and nuzzles his head against yours. “Though I can’t disagree, I didn’t really do anything to you.”

“Hey, I offered at the time and you said no.” Touya banters with Keigo as he leads you to the couch, having you sit down on it first. “You can’t really say that you weren’t given a chance.”

Keigo simply shrugs his shoulders in response before looking down at you. You sit way too stiff on the couch, back as straight as an arrow and your brows crinkled with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. He reaches a hand towards you and pats the top of your head, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing against your scalp and massaging to get you to relax. He thinks how cute you are, acting like as if he hadn’t already seen you naked and what you look like when you’re getting railed. He’s just excited to be able to play with you with his own hands this time, manipulating your pleasures to his own tastes while coordinating with Touya.

“What are you acting like such a virgin for? Keigo already knows what you look liked when you’re getting fucked. No need to be shy.” Touya quips at you and chuckles at how you hide your face in your hands. “Quit it doll, you’re not so innocent. He’s seen it and I’ve seen it, now be a good girl and take off your clothes.”

Touya speaks in that tone when there’s no room for argument, that you dare not talk back or else you’re going to get a punishment. And normally you love to test his patience when he speaks to you in that manner, you know he loves it when you get all bratty with him but with Keigo present you’re a little bit more reluctant to be so cheeky. So you follow directions and reach towards your pants zipper to get your bottoms off first but then Keigo catches your wrist in his hand.

“Wait, I want to undress her.” Keigo announces.

Touya allows it with a passive wave of his hand.

So Keigo kneels down to do the job himself, taking his time and touching you appreciatively while you look away from his gaze. It reminds you of when you tried undressing yourself at the house party when you were rolling to jump into a pool and he caught you just in time, helping poor little you dress back up because you shouldn’t have been trying to get naked with a bunch of strangers around you. Your face is warm as the tips of his fingers skim across your naked skin, completely in the nude and absolutely self conscious as your hands go up to cover your breasts.

Keigo gently pulls your hands away and asks Touya, “Was she this shy with you the first time?”

“Tch, shy? She’s the one that had me by the cock the first time we fucked, bratty little thing pretty much demanded that I blow her back out.” Touya chuckled as he pet the top of your head before lifting your head up. “Isn’t that right doll? You remember?”

You nodded as the memory resurfaced into your mind.

“So why so shy now dove?” Keigo asks as he sheds his shirt and moves to undo his belt buckle.

“It’s different, you’re a friend Keigo. And I’ve never pleased two guys at the same time.”

Touya just merely whips off his own shirt and palms his erection through his sweatpants. “You don’t have to worry about anything (Name). There’s nothing different about sex when there’s an additional person. Keigo’s got plenty of experience in this, he’s been to a few orgies and a gangbang once.”

You whipped your head back to look at Keigo who merely just scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Hehe, there’s no need to tell her that Touya. But things will be fine dove, we know you trust us. Remember what I said earlier?”

“Y-Yeah… I remember.”

They love you… though you’re not sure what the extent of their love is for you. It’s dangerous to confuse possession for love and that’s the feeling that you get from the both of them. The logical side of you is very aware of this fact and yet you ignore it once more. Love or not, this isn’t exactly your ideal relationship but you’re not quite willing to walk away just yet.

“Can you kiss me Keigo?” you ask, figuring that you might as well just start off.

“Of course songbird.” he says as he pulls you up from the couch and leans down to kiss you. He wastes no time in gliding his tongue against the seam of your soft lips, drawing a quiet moan from you. Keigo is definitely a gentle kisser, or at least for now he’s being gentle, and any nervousness you felt washed away in the tender way he held you in his arms. Keigo’s erection pokes at your thigh and you move one hand in between your bodies to hold it in your hand. You didn’t get a good look at it last time but from the feel of it you can tell it’s a bit smoother compared to Touya’s, a prominent vein underneath as you skim the tips of your fingers over it.

“Get on your knees doll, show Keigo how good you are with that mouth.”

Sinking to your knees, you get a good look at Keigo’s cock; it’s a pretty pink color that’s a little flushed at the tip and the length is close to Touya’s though skinnier in girth. You give it a few experimental pumps in your hand before dipping your head down to take him into your mouth. The taste is a little musty but that’s to be expected when your genitals just sit in your pants all day and it doesn’t bother you at all. His cock glides smoothly over your tongue and when it hits the back of your throat, you moan around it before pulling back with an audible pop.

“You’re looking at my cock like you’re in love with it dove.” Keigo teases. He expects you to quip back at him but you merely open your mouth and stick your tongue out, a quiet ‘ahh’ from you makes his spine tingle. “Eager girl.”

Touya watches you as you swallow Keigo into your eager mouth, your eyes looking up at him and meeting his golden gaze. Watching you on your knees for someone else is getting him hard as fuck, fisting his cock in his hand and proud that you’ve let go of your inhibitions. There was no reason for you to be so shy earlier, Touya knew that you’d relax instantly with Keigo; he always had a charm about him that made everyone comfortable once they met him.

Still though, you’re his girl and he does feel a bit left out so he takes you by the back of your head and directs you to go down on him instead. Touya sees how enthused you are at the familiarity of having his cock in your mouth and how you look up into his own eyes. You’re stroking Keigo with one of your hands while the other plays with your clit messily, all the while you’re smoothly sucking him off; you’re his slutty little multi-tasker. Back and forth you trade off between Keigo and Touya’s cocks and having completely forgotten how shy you were from before. You suppose that Touya’s words from before actually ring true.

Hands go underneath your armpits and you’re lifted to sit on the couch, ass hanging off the edge with your legs held open and leaning back on your elbows for support. You barely get a word in when Keigo smoothly slides down to his knees and proceeds to eat you out like he’s the hungriest man in the world and the first meal he’s given is absolute ambrosia. He’s fucking good with his mouth, a goddamn expert as his tongue flicks over the petals of your pussy, you can’t help but wonder if he got so good from those apparent orgies that Touya said that Keigo attended previously.

Touya has one leg kneeled on the couch and is balanced with one foot on the floor as he watches once again from the sidelines for a brief moment. He thinks of all the times the two of you had sex in front of a mirror, watching your reflection as he railed you on his cock and keeping his eyes forward rather than on you. It’s different to see you in this perspective, being touched by someone else and hearing you moan for his closest friend. If you were moaning for anyone else, if Keigo wasn’t the one Touya had chosen, he’d go crazy with jealousy. He thinks of the scumbag men he’d seen eye you up and down when you weren’t looking, how he knows that they would see you as just a hole to fuck rather than a precious gem to treasure. They wouldn’t cherish you like he did, wouldn’t appreciate you the way Touya does, the things he’d do for you he knows that no other man would. Keigo is the only person he would trust to lavish you with all the affection you deserve.

She’s mine. Touya thinks before looking at Keigo. She’s ours.

You’re obedient when Touya reaches a hand forward, his thumb pressing against your plush bottom lip before you take it into your mouth. Keigo’s teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue and has two fingers moving inside you, golden eyes set on you as you look up at Touya. Your eyes are fluttering though, struggling to keep them focused as his fingers steal your concentration by finding your g-spot and dragging the pads of his fingers down before repeating the motion. A drawn out groan rumbles out from your pretty mouth and you drop your head back.

“She just came.” Keigo states as he withdraws his fingers from you and licks up your juices. “You enjoy yourself songbird?”

You answer with a tired nod of your head.

Keigo chuckles quietly, rubbing his hand on your thigh before looking to Touya. “Does she need a minute?”

“No, she can keep going." Touya kneels down to you and kisses you briefly, waking you from your orgasm-induced stupor as you reach up to touch the back of his neck and kiss you deeper. You and him are lip-locked as Keigo kisses up your body, focusing on your breasts as the pads of his fingers press into your hipbones and make you shiver under his touch. You think that maybe Touya was right from before, that sex isn’t that much different when you have another person around. Kissing is still the same, blowjobs are more or less the same, so is being eaten out, but you’re getting twice the pleasure and excitement.

One hand reaches down and scrunches through Keigo’s blond hair, soft tresses glide through your fingers and you’re reminded of the last time you rolled. His hair was just as soft when you had first kissed him at the party and you think briefly about what kind of shampoo and conditioner he uses to keep his hair so soft, maybe he uses hair masks and stuff like those internet hair recipes for it to feel so nice. So you grab a handful of it and pull his head back, giggling when he grunts and the faint hiss of, “Naughty little dove…”

Touya moves aside to make way for Keigo as he slides up to kiss you once again. In the midst of it, you feel the blunt head of his cock push against your entrance. You won’t dare break from the kiss from Keigo and you blindly reach for Touya’s hand, which he takes and holds it gently. There’s more nudging against your pussy and you think of that song that you’ve heard circulating on the internet, a specific lyric that you think is a fitting theme for tonight: I wanna ruin our friendship.

You could change your mind, tell Keigo to get off you and make Touya back off as well.

“I’m going to put it in now, okay?”

But you won’t tell them to, you decided you want this.

You think of your come down from when you rolled last and how this is almost the same situation except that Keigo is the one to fuck you while Touya sits nearby with his cock in his hand. So you brace one hand on Keigo’s shoulder and widen your legs for him, looking between turquoise eyes of your boyfriend and the golden ones of your friend. “Take his cock doll, fulfill Keigo’s fantasy and let him wreck you.”

It must be Keigo’s eagerness to have been wanting to fuck you since you met because he wastes no time in pummeling his cock into you. He’s not as rough as Touya but there’s definitely enthusiasm in his movements, his eyes entranced on your tits as they bounce with the momentum of his thrusts. Touya has your hand on his cock and makes you jerk him off, calling you a pretty, dirty whore and you vocalize your agreements.

“Fuck she’s such a slut!” Keigo says more to himself rather than Touya. He grabs a handful of your hair in his hand and yanks it back, making you gasp as your neck is exposed and he leans forward to bite down on your soft flesh. This is everything he dreamed of and more, of course the real you is far better than the nights he spent imagining what you would be like with his dick in his hand. Touya is his friend and he always painted a pretty picture with his words whenever he felt like bragging about good at sex he was, which was all the fucking time, but Keigo knew that you were different the more Touya kept on referring back to you before the relationship was official, knowing more about your pussy first before actually learning about who you were.

Touya used to get nudes pretty frequently from some of his former whores, some quick spank material before deleting it but you were different. Whatever you sent to Touya, whether innocent or not so innocent, you got your own personal folder with your name on it and if he was feeling a little generous, he’d show his friend. So Keigo pretty much knew what you looked like naked by the time the two of you were introduced but you didn’t have to know that.

So here you are, naked and getting railed on his cock right with his very own eyes.

No more digital or imaginary substitutions, Keigo was getting the real thing now.

“Hands and knees, I want her sucking me off.”

Pushed into the desired position, your hands brace the armrest of the couch to steady yourself, seeing as you’re about to get fucked from both ends. Keigo’s hips slap against you in a steady and firm rhythm while Touya gags you on his cock. Fingernails dig into the surface of the couch and you strain to look up as you’re getting face fucked. Porn makes having a threesome look so easy and fluid but you’re struggling a little bit with the different rhythms from one end compared to the other. It’s hard to concentrate on sucking Touya off as Keigo fucks you from behind, neither one of them wanting to give you a break.

It’s a struggle but you don’t want to stop.

“Open your mouth wider.” Touya commands and you happily obey. His cock is soaked in your spit so it glides smoothly into your mouth and with practiced eased you deep throat him. Every thrust Keigo delivers, it makes you bump forward slightly but it doesn’t deter you from doing the best you can with a cock in your mouth. Their praises mix together and it makes you feel heady, you want to be good for them and hear more of ‘good girl’ and ‘that’s right songbird’.

And then Keigo yanks you away from Touya, laying flat on your back on the couch and he pushes back inside you with your legs pushed to your chest. You want to look into his eyes, take a dip in those honey-colored windows to his soul and hold his gaze while he practically ravages your pussy. You’re sure that his gaze is as intense as the fucking that he’s giving you, so intense that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and you can’t look him in the eyes like you want. So instead you’re fucked stupid by Keigo and can barely muster any praises back to him like ‘you fuck me so good’ and shit like that.

It’s okay because Touya can do the talking anyway.

“Look at you doll, looks like you’re losing it over his cock. You’re such a good little whore right now, you make me proud.” Touya strokes his cock in one hand while the other reaches down and lovingly strokes your hair. “You wanna let Keigo fuck you from now on? You wanna be with the both of us?”

“Wan’ you both… yes, want you two!” you groan out and reach one hand up to touch Touya’s wrist. “Ungh, fuck!”

“Shit, I’m going to cum!” Keigo hisses as he sloppily fucks into you before pulling out and cumming all over your tits. Warm splatters of liquid fall onto your chest as you cum as well, finally able to look at Keigo from your vantage point but disappointed that he didn’t cum inside you. “Fucking hell… baby bird…”

Ah, you’ve unlocked a new pet name.

There’s no break for you as Touya takes you back, sitting on the couch and putting you in his lap. You groan at the familiar stretch of his cock slipping inside you, you’re a leaking mess as Touya fucks his hips up into your pussy. You’re getting fucked in his lap, clutching onto his shoulders and moving in practiced sync. Normally you’d get lost looking into turquoise blue eyes but you look to the side to see Keigo leaning against the arm rest and catching his breath.

Touya’s hands cuff underneath your ass and gives support as you ride him, his mouth pressed into your neck as he gives you wet kisses all the while Keigo sits back and watches. It’s different and new and you’re not necessarily sure how this may turn out for you in the end. Your conversation from earlier rings in your mind and your mind sobers briefly at the recollection of it: “He feels you only deserve to get fucked by people who love you, those were his words.”

Love… you’re still trying to fathom it.

Wanting to just have sex was one thing, adding love into the mix was another. It should make you sit down and consider what the fallout may be but the thought of Touya being in love with you, being just too shy or obstinate to bare himself open, it made your heart flutter in the same way he wouldn’t allow you to call him Dabi anymore. And Keigo too, a selfish part of you wanted to indulge yourself silly on these two men who apparently didn’t like the idea of relinquishing you to just anyone.

Don’t be a whore for anyone else but us.

“Look here doll.”

You look away from Keigo and look to Touya instead, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him. Contrary to how he may seem, Touya loved to kiss you during sex. It drives him wild every single time, especially when you’d scrunch a handful of his hair in your hand and tugged on his roots. He curses at you and gives a sharp smack to your ass, a guttural growl rumbling in his chest as he asserts control over you. All you can do is manage to hold onto his shoulders as he presses you to sit back against the couch and fucks into your already sensitive pussy, so he’s not necessarily surprised when you cum on his cock. He reaches down to overstimulate you by toying with your clit and you practically lose it, sobbing as you cum more for him.

When you peer up at Touya, you can tell by the way his brows are pinched that he’s about to cum. You beg for him to cum inside you like he always does, you’re anticipating it. Instead he pulls out and makes you kneel on the floor, Keigo coming to his side with his cock in his hand; you hadn’t even realized that he got hard again. “Open wide sweetheart.” Touya tells you.

So you do, your eyes on the boys as the cum all over your face and your tits, mixed drops catching on your tongue as you’re coated in hot cum. When they’re both thoroughly tapped out, you smear it all over your chest and giggle how they both groan at the sight of you. “Mm… I loved it!”

“Glad you did baby bird.” Keigo leans down to kiss your temple while Touya kisses your cheek. “As pretty as you look with our cum all over you, why don’t you go wash up?”

No arguments there, dried cum isn’t exactly the greatest feeling in the world especially since you were showered in so much of it. So you get up and walk in the direction of the bathroom but turn back briefly and lean against the wall. “Hey.” you call out and they both look to you. “I’m happy that that we did this. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this, I want you to know that.”

You’re tempted to put out a simple ‘love you’ just to see what Touya’s reaction would be, but you think it’s best to not breach that subject for now. If it were still just you and him, then you probably would have put it out there but the addition of Keigo changes it a bit so you have to reevaluate the pace of the relationship. It’s a whole mess, that much is certain, but you want to stay with Touya. You wonder how much poking and prodding you can get from Keigo to reveal more. You feel a certain sense of pride that apparently he’s never devoted himself to anyone else until you came along, though if it weren’t for Keigo accidentally revealing such precious information then you never would have known in the first place, if not this soon in the relationship. For the time being, you just blow an air kiss and leave to go clean up.

Under the shower spray, you think hard about you, Touya and Keigo. “Eight girls… he used to see eight fucking girls!” you mutter to yourself. It sort of figures that Touya had that many whores but you had no clue that the number was so high before you came along. You still get mad when he comes to you smelling like them, you won’t even let him get near you unless he washes up first and he’ll always cater to you afterwards. Just because Keigo is included now doesn’t mean the jealousy won’t stop, it just means that now he provides a distraction when Touya goes out and wrestles with his commitment issues while balls deep in other girls.

But if what Keigo says is true that Touya loves you then you can hold out until you can draw that confession out of him.

━━━━✧

Part 3 of the Us Series: Do It For Me

[brokenbeskar]

Interception

Chapter Four of Memories Reforged (Din Djarin x Reader) 

Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: Karga had warned that the two of you would have to work together to catch this bounty, but who knew working together would be so difficult?

Warnings: some canon typical violence, but nothing else! 

A/N: This chapter was a STRUGGLE to write, but I have been so excited for it! I hope my hard work payed off and you all enjoy it!

Sixty thousand credits. Sixty thousand credits. You have to keep repeating it to yourself as you scan through the passing crowd on one of the lower levels of Galactic City. Taking bounties on Coruscant was never easy, and quite honestly it was beyond exhausting. Thousands of city blocks stacked on top of eachother and spanning the entire length of the planet made it that much easier for bounties to blend in and hide. You and the mandalorian had decided to split up to cover more ground, but even between the two of you it could take weeks to finally find your quarry, and that was time you didn’t have. 

So here you were, on a vantage point scanning the streets below you on the west end, looking for any sign of your bounty. Nothing...nothing...nope...still nothing. A lot of the passersby were shady, as to be expected, but not who you're looking for. The lower you got in Galactic City, the more crime ridden and poverty stricken it became, a prime place for spice runners and black market trades. Which is exactly why you were looking here. 

The bounty you’re after, Kargra warned that the two of you would have to work together to catch her, and you know why. Her name was Yanu Nuld. This particular bounty was a renowned thief. She was known for pulling off incredibly risky heists but somehow managing to never get caught. She was incredibly cunning and deceitful. Known for convincing others to help her only to leave them abandoned and easily caught with nothing in return. All of the intel gathered on her was information happily given up from those scorned by her mendacious ways. Above all though, she was incredibly smart, a master evader. The price on her head was only as high as it was because of how many failed attempts there have been made to capture her. 

Yanu was clearly a thrill seeker. Hearing how high stakes her last few heists were, you wonder if she’s getting bored. It was no wonder she was here on Coruscant, there were plenty of valuables to go after, and with the thriving black market beneath your feet, she could easily make more than a few credits in one evening alone. That can’t be why she's here though, no-- she has to be after something bigger. She’s not here for some measly credits and you know it. That would be too easy for her, she needs something more exciting, more risky, more fun. What though? You didn’t intend to find out, just grab her and go as fast as possible. Sixty thousand credits were on the line here, and maker, you needed them. She was just a way to get you one step closer to your new ship. 

As you’re scanning the crowd you notice a familiar, irritating gleam of metal. You huff angrily and activate the commlink in your helmet. The two of you had synced them up before you split up to communicate, but clearly there wasn’t enough of that going on.

“What are you doing here?” You bark out through the comm, and you see him immediately look up to your vantage point as if you had shouted it over the crowd. 

“Looking for the bounty.” He deadpans and it infuriates you, you roll your eyes under your helmet. 

“Stand up at the cantina not work out for you, shiny?” A mocking tone was oozing from your voice before you suddenly changed your demeanor and snapped out at him, “We agreed I would take the west end, and you would take east.” 

“I finished sweeping the east end, she's not there.” 

“Well I don’t need you to double check my work.” you spit out bitterly at him. How he managed to constantly get on your nerves was a skill of its own. You try to push your irritation aside to focus on the bounty you still had zero leads on. “I’m assuming since you’re here you didn’t get anything good from the jeweler?”

There's a long pause on his end before he replies, “I didn’t speak to the jeweler.” He says it slowly, drawing it out. He sounds almost as irritated as you. 

“What do you mean, you didn’t speak to them?” You speak out through your clenched jaw. Your irritation is much more obvious than his, but you can’t help it. 

“You never asked me to.” it’s true, you didn’t, but you thought it should have been obvious when you told him you thought they might have some information. 

“Dank farrik! Fine!” You spit through the comm and jump down onto the dirty street below you, heading off in the direction of the jeweler. “Just keep doing whatever you’re doing. Let me know if you get anything.” You switch off the comm before he can say anything else.

You’re grumbling angrily under your breath as you trudge through the dirty streets. You and the mandalorian had been constantly getting into each other's way, you don’t work well together at all. It’s not like you don’t know how to work with others. Kriff, you got into this profession with a partner, working with someone else should be more natural to you than it would be alone. Something about this mandalorian however, was making this job far more difficult than it already was.

 Since you landed he’s been getting on your nerves. The both of you couldn't agree on anything, you are uncoordinated together, pushing each other away like opposing magnets. At the same time however, you kept getting in each other's way as if you were being drawn together-- like magnets. You would go to question someone, only to find he was already there with the same idea. You would go to search a new area, only to see his damned shiny armor somewhere close by. The both of you even physically collided with each other once rounding the same corner. You were seriously only one more run-in away from locking him back in his ship and finishing this job yourself. 

You pull out your tracking fob and hold it out in front of you to see if you can get anything, but the beeping is still just as steady as it has always been. She must be screwing with you on purpose, running in circles around the same block. At least you know she's still in the area. You keep walking, sweeping the fob in front of you to see if you pick up anything new, but you feel someone watching you. You feel it on the back of your neck, like electricity running through the air. You look to your right where you feel it, and see someone dart into the darkness. 

Interesting...

Pocketing your fob you decide to investigate. 

You step down a couple steps into the dark alley and change the setting on your helmet’s display to look for footprints. Bingo, bright red and clear as day. You follow them with your visor, whoever it was, they were running when you caught sight of them. You can tell based on the spacing of their prints and just how far they went considering you just saw them a minute ago. Walking along with them, you keep your eyes peeled, scanning your surroundings with your visor, looking for anything out of place. You’re just hoping this isn’t a trap. 

You follow them down the dark and damp alleyway, until the footprints your tracking come to a halt. It’s like whoever you were tracking simply disappeared. You look up and around the buildings next to you, whoever it was had clearly taken higher ground. You spot them on the heat signature, crouched on a ledge. 

“Do I have business with you?” You call up to them, letting them know you can definitely see them. 

“Should have expected a mandalorian to find me that easily.” They jump down from their ledge and saunter over a few steps closer to you, but make a point to keep their distance. You can’t exactly get a good look at them, their hooded robes concealing most of their features. 

You can’t help but scoff, “You say that as if that wasn’t the most obvious hiding spot. Too predictable. Now what’s your business with me.” 

“I have...information.” They seem to hesitate with their offer, but it causes you to tilt your helmet up in interest, so they continue, they’re voice dropping in volume, barely above a whisper, “I know the bounty you’re after.” oh now this was interesting. Definitely not what you were expecting, and you have a pretty good feeling it could be a trap, but maybe that's exactly what you needed.

“I’m interested,” You admit, “What can you offer me?” 

“Not so fast, I need something in return--in exchange. I need you to guarantee my safety.” They seem rushed, on edge.

“Your safety? From what?” You tilt your helmet at them quizzically. 

“From her. And--and I want to walk away with my record clean. I don’t want anyone to know I’m involved.” They were definitely panicked, there's an urgency in their voice, a sort of desperation.

“I can’t do anything about your record, but I have no bounty on your head so you're free to leave this planet, I won't stop you. Though I’m curious, why do you need protection from my bounty?” You relax your stance slightly, shifting your weight to one leg, but keep your shoulders square.

“Listen, Yanu...she’s dangerous. I thought I knew what I was doing getting caught up with her, but when I found out there was a mandalorian holding her puck--,” They cut themselves off and shake their head slightly, “look, doesn’t matter, this ended up being more than what I signed up for. She’s acting careless, like she wants to get caught--and I for one, don’t want to end up frozen in carbonite next to her....or worse…” They trail off at the thought of what their fate could be at the hands of a mandalorian, despite you not even really being one. There's no bounty on their head, at least not one that belongs to you, so for all you care you would shoot them without hesitation if they got in your way. And you get the feeling they know it. 

“How’d you know I was after her?” You rest your hands on your belt as you continue to question them. So far their story makes sense, but you’re checking for holes. Any little hint that something doesn't add up. 

“We saw you. Two days ago, maybe three hundred levels up. She knew immediately you were looking for her. ‘only a matter of time,’ she said.” The stranger in front of you shakes their head to themselves before continuing, “I didn’t believe her until I saw you interrogating some shopkeep and I saw your puck light up.” They swallow harshly, hard enough you can hear it, “She told me not to worry about it, and I didn’t...until she changed the plan. Look, what she’s planning is insane, and I want out. I tried talking her out of it, but she won’t budge. I feel like she’s left me no other choice. If she finds out I came to you, she’ll--she’ll kill me.” Their voice cracks at the end and you can tell they’re being sincere. 

They’ve so far only mentioned you though, they must not know about your mandalorian hunting partner. You want to ask, but know better of it. You don’t want to risk giving up any information that you could use to your advantage instead.

“So why did you come to me then?” You tilt your helmet curiously with your question. Truly it made no sense. “Why didn’t you just hitch a ride off this planet as soon as you got the chance? No reason for you to be helping me.” “Well I -- she…it’s--” They struggle immensely trying to explain, and it immediately puts you on high alert. This was it, that hole in their story you were looking for. The confirmation you needed that this was a set up. A trap. 

“Spit it out then.” You punch out the words through your modulator more aggressively than you intend. You hope it’s taken as a warning, a warning that you know exactly what they’re up to. And with the way they snap their gaze to you, you’re sure they get the message. 

“Look, it's not what you think,” They wave a hand dismissively. 

“What is it then?” 

“It’s complicated…” 

“Oh I bet it is. Now tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you here and now, you’re wasting my time.” You move a hand to the blaster in the holster on your thigh.

“Wait hold on! You aren’t listening, I told you it’s not like that--” 

“Well you better start explaining, and quickly, because I’m losing my patience.” 

“I…I--I love her, okay?” They blurt it out in a panic and it takes you by surprise. There was nothing in the galaxy that could have prepared you for that one. Of all the things they could have possibly said, that was definitely not what you were expecting. They hang their head defeatedly, “I love her...but--but she doesn’t--not me. She doesn’t even care about me, I’m nothing more than bantha fodder to her.” They scoff and shake their head, “She was willing to put my life at risk just so she could have a good time…” 

“So you came to me as a sort of...revenge?” You tilt your helmet inquisitively. You’re trying so hard not to let the amusement drip from your voice. This was clearly very serious to them, but this all feels so childish to you. This whole situation was borderline hilarious. 

“Do you want the information or not?” They cross their arms in front of their chest. You beckon them to continue with a slight wave of your hand, and settle both of yours back onto your belt. They give you a determined nod before they start spilling everything. 

“She's going to intercept a trade, some kind of rare crystal--I don’t really know what they are, but I know they’re probably worth more than double the beskar on your shoulders.” “Clearly that's an exaggeration.” You scoff. Beskar, mandalorian iron, was one of the most legendary metals in the galaxy. To imply these “crystals” were worth double? Hearsay. “It’s not. Like I told you, I don’t know a lot, but I guess they were stolen after the fall of the Jedi Temple. I don’t even know where she got the information about the trade, they’re keeping the whole thing incredibly confidential.” The stranger keeps their own voice down, as quiet as they can while they explain this to you. You don’t know much about jedi, honestly you don’t know anything. Whatever these crystals were, they weren’t important to you, but you realize why your bounty has an interest in them, if what your hearing is true. 

You take a step closer to the stranger in front of you, “Tell me everything you know about the trade.” And they do, they spill everything they know. It’s not a lot, but it’s everything you need. 

“Some kind of black market trade to a private client--I don’t know anything about the guy, but that doesn't matter. They’re doing the exchange on the upper levels tomorrow night. Some kind of hotel or something-- it’s big, real fancy. I’ll give you the coordinates. The crystals are in a case. Yanu is planning on intercepting before the case trades hands. I don’t know exactly how she’s planning to pull it off, but you’ll see her. She's...hard to miss.” The stranger trails off before giving you the coordinates, which you punch into your vanbrance so you can find the location later. 

“Thank you.” You nod to them, “You better get going, get off this planet and find somewhere to hang low for awhile.” 

“I plan on it.” They toss back at you and begin to head off in their own direction, before pausing and looking over their shoulder, “Be careful, Yanu is dangerous. Even for a mandalorian.” And with that, they continue on their way without looking back. 

You wait for them to leave, watch them disappear behind a building, and then wait a few seconds more before you activate the comm on your helmet. 

“Hey, shiny. You there?” You call out through the static of the comm. 

“You find something?” His voice rings back to you through the static.

“Yeah. Got some information, bounty’s going to intercept a trade. Some kind of rare crystal or something.” Maker, just repeating this stuff out loud sounds so ridiculous. Maybe you did get conned. 

“Rare crystals? You got that from the jeweler?” He sounds dubious, but intrigued. How were you even going to begin to explain the situation to this tin can.  

“It’s a long story. Rendezvous back at the ship, I’ll fill you in.” 

“Copy.” You hear his end of the comm click off and you begin your trek back to the ship. 

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

You’re perched up high in the immaculate hotel lobby, somewhere high on one of the various balconies, out of view from the bustling travelers beneath you. To call this a hotel lobby felt...disingenuous. Truly it was something else. Yeah it was the main lobby and lounge for a hotel, but it was unbelievably fancy. Marble, decorated flooring, chandeliers, huge windows, decor unmatched by anything on the lower levels. Large and impressive staircases surrounding both sides of the main desk area, It even sported a small cocktail bar in the lounge area. Staying here alone was a symbol of status, and it showed. 

The patrons below were just as decorated as the impressive area around them. Flashy jewelry and flowing fabrics. It always felt strange, seeing the stark disconnect between classes especially since the fall of the empire, and even more so especially on Coruscant. The glittering and extravagant spectacle of it all, it felt so fake to you. You knew the harsh realities of the galaxy, that no amount of glistening gems or extravagance could cover up. 

“You sure this isn’t a trap?” The mandalorian’s voice crackles over your helmet’s comm. 

“No, but it’s the best chance we got.” You admit. It could very well be a trap, a set up, but that was a risk you were willing to take. Even if this wasn’t a trap, you know she probably knows you're here. 

You couldn’t see your mandalorian hunting partner from where you were, he's perched up somewhere away from you, watching the lounge area through his pulse rifle scope. Where though? You have no idea. you both agreed it would be best if he stayed out of sight, since as far as you knew, your bounty was only aware of you, and only you. If you have even the slightest chance of catching her off guard, you definitely want to use that to your advantage. 

You notice down below a well dressed Pantoran gentleman leaning against a wall. Nothing outwardly paints him as suspicious, but with the way he’s scanning the crowd, and seems to be lingering for no reason catches your attention. Not to mention the fact that you somehow didn’t even notice him walk in. You continue to watch him. He adjusts his clothes, crosses his arms, shifts his weight from one leg to the other, nothing odd or alarming--until you see him fiddle with something on his wrist and hold it up to his face. 

You click a switch on the side of your helmet to zoom in, focusing on him. Oh yeah, he was definitely speaking into a comm unit. You glance down a little lower, and notice the hint of a holster under his jacket, only revealed when the edge of his jacket rides up when he speaks into his wrist. Now he definitely looks suspicious. 

“Hey, you see that Pantoran over there by the window?” You ask over the comm, hoping the mandalorian notices the same thing you do. 

“Yeah. He’s got a friend at the bar.” you look over, and sure enough, another well dressed man is sitting at the bar, speaking into his wrist. Sitting at the bar, but no drink. A pretty big red flag for you. He was much bigger than the one leaning against a wall across the lobby, built, and clearly strong. 

“Extra security, you think?” You ask.

“Probably something like that.” You can hear him shift slightly over the comm, as he adjusts his position. 

“No case though. Might be the buyer.” You know the mandalorian you're working with is probably thinking the same thing. At this point you're just trying to make conversation. Not that the silence bothered you at all. It was just...habit? It’s been  a long time since you worked with anyone else, but your old habits still get kicked up every now and again. When you and your late husband would go on hunts together, there wasn’t a second of silence between the two of you. It definitely made the job a lot more enjoyable, when the conversations weren’t just strategy and business, but they were filled with playful banter and jokes too. You can't help the snort you let out when you remember the dumbest joke he once told you.

“What’s so funny?” The mandalorian’s gruff voice asks through the static. 

“It’s--,” You shake your head lightly and let out another breathy chuckle, “Here, how do you unlock doors on Kashyyyk?” 

“Is that really what your laughing at right---” 

“A woo-kiee. Get it?” You cut him off, and immediately laugh at how ridiculous it is. Hearing his sigh over the comm only makes it that much better. You remember your response being about the same when you heard it for the first time. 

“Hey, pay attention. I got eyes on the case.” he cuts in through your chuckling sternly, and it snaps you back to reality. 

You peer down below you, and there, coming through the entrance. Another well dressed man is striding through, a shining silver case at his side. The man at the bar stands, and the one leaning against the wall, begins to make his stride to meet the one with the case. Bingo. That's the trade. You’re searching all over for your bounty, but you don’t see her anywhere. Did she abandon her heist? Did she decide it wasn’t worth it with you after her? Her partner, the one you met in the alley yesterday, told you she would be hard to miss, so why is it you’re not seeing her? The closer together the two men get to exchanging the case the faster your thoughts are racing. 

Then suddenly they all come to a halt when a deafening blaster shot zips through the crowd from seemingly nowhere, immediately there are panicked screams and the man holding the case drops to the ground in an instant. 

Suddenly, it’s chaos. 

Patrons of the hotel lobby are scrambling all over, every which way, screams echoing through the shimmering entryway as disorder reigns beneath you. Did...did the mandalorian just shoot him? 

“What the kriff are you doing?!” You shout over the comm, while you quickly scramble to jump over the banister of the balcony you’re on. You aren’t sure why your first instinct is to go for the case, but it is. You’re rushing down to the ground level, trying not to get caught up in the swarm of panicked people surrounding you. 

“Wasn’t me.” You hear the shuffle over the comm as he starts to make his move. Well if it wasn’t him then that must mean--she was here.

You keep pushing your way through the crowd the best you can, picking up the pace at the realization that your bounty is close-- when another blast rings through the air. You hear a thud, and see the man who was at the bar earlier on the floor, face down. Between people, you barely catch sight of the silver case lying on the floor next to him. You get shoved harshly from someone on your left, it knocks you off balance for just a second, and when you get your footing back, you finally see her. 

It's quick, she darts in to grab the case, picking it up off the floor without a break in her step. And then she's sprinting. You immediately start to sprint after her, aggressively shoving anyone out of your way as you chase her. Luckily she's easy to spot, her partner was right, she's hard to miss. Her bright pink skin, fiery red hair, and even brighter jumpsuit stood out easily in the crowd. 

“She’s on the move!” You struggle to get the words out as you fight through the sea of people all swarming to escape the turmoil. There's a break in the crowd, and you use it as an opportunity to close as much space between you and her as possible. She glances back at you over her shoulder and gives you a smirk, before she whips out her blaster and fires twice at you. 

Sparks erupt as it hits you once in the chest, and again in the shoulder, the brutal force of it causes you to lose your footing and stumble. The beskar protects you, but the impact is still hard and painful. You quickly try to shake it off and continue on your pursuit, the adrenaline from the chase making the pain dull quicker than it would otherwise, but then another shot, in the same shoulder, combined with someone colliding into you at the same time, and you fall to the ground with a rough grunt through your helmet. You can’t see anything but strangers’ feet passing by you, kriff you need to get it together, and quickly. You cannot let her escape. The shock from the blast still rings through your whole arm, your fingers are tingly and numb, pins and needles stabbing into you while you try to pick yourself off the ground as quickly as you can. You try to ignore it but--maker, the sharpness radiating from it was serious. 

You hear another blast just as you get to your feet, immediately followed by the loud crash of glass shattering. You look up ahead of you just in time to watch your bounty jump through the now shattered window, as glass continues to fall around her and all over the lobby. Light catches every tiny shard causing it to glitter as if it were part of the expensive decor. You rush your way over to the destroyed window and peer down, to watch as she takes off in a speeder, case in hand. 

“Dank farrik!,” you shout out through clenched teeth, and angrily pound your fist into the edge of the window. You drop down from the open window onto the balcony beneath you with an aggressive THUNK. “She got away, she's heading towards the port on a speeder.” 

“I’m on it.” Is all he says back to you. You’re about to ask for an explanation, but you don’t end up needing to, because you see him soar into that direction. The lights from the city reflect off his armour as he bolts through the air with his rising phoenix. Well, that definitely wasn’t fair.

 You’re desperately trying to come up with a plan, there's no way you can catch up to her in time on foot-- 

But then, you have the most stupid, most crazy, most riduclous idea you think you have ever come up with. 

You look over the railing of the balcony and take a deep breath. Fuck, you were really going to do this weren’t you? 

Yep. 

You hold your breath when you jump off, your heart jumping to your throat, as you fall through the air.

 You roughly catch onto the side of a speeder passing underneath you, and it dips dramatically with your weight. The person driving makes a loud noise in distress and you fear your going to pull the whole thing right out of the air. Your grip is slipping from your left hand as you struggle to keep hold, your feet dangling in the air below you. Speeders are zipping past you, beeping loudly as they pass your disruption. You’re terrified you're going to fall.

This was it. This was by far the dumbest thing you could have possibly done. 

“Sixty thousand credits...sixty thousand credits...sixty thousand kriffing! credits!” You’re repeating the amount over and over to yourself through gritted teeth as you attempt to haul yourself up over the side of the speeder. You get one arm hooked firmly over the side of the passenger door, and you're struggling to pull your legs up, when the driver shouts at you in some foreign language you don't understand. They swerve viciously to the right and the sudden shift in force causes you to slip, smacking the bottom of your helmet against the side of the door. 

“Cut that out!” You shout angrily at them and you attempt to pull yourself up again, ignoring them as they continue to shout at you panicked and angry. They jerk the speeder again, even harsher this time, and you get whipped back against the side of it, causing you to lose grip in your left hand and let go of the side of it. Now you’re barely hanging on with one hand, struggling to keep your grip while you dangle in the air as the driver speeds up and continues to veer dramatically to shake you off. Other neighboring speeders beep loudly and swerve dangerously close to your flailing limbs, the rush of air from them passing by only making holding on that much more difficult. If you don’t fall off this thing, you’re definitely getting hit by a different one. 

One more rough jolt from the diver and your gloved hand can’t hold on any longer. Wind rushes from your lungs as you start to fall, but you quickly hit the whipcord thrower on your vambrace, and a long length of fibercord shoots out above you, just barely grappling onto the bottom of the speeder you just fell from. The driver yells loudly as the whole speeder tips sharply with the sudden yank of your cord. The sudden halt from the cord pulling taut, yanks you aggressively, and combined with the weight of your beskar helmet, sends a sharp pain through your neck and makes you dizzy. 

You shake your head, and try to straighten up, gripping the fibercord with both hands, only to be met head on with blinding headlights from an oncoming speeder. Your breath catches in your throat as you brace for the oncoming impact, the blaring beep ringing through your helmet--but the speeder manages to swerve away from you just in the nick of time, causing your fibercord to sway, swinging you along with it as your grip on for dear life.

You clench your jaw tight as you haul yourself up, climbing the fibercord attached to your wrist, slowly reeling yourself closer and closer to the speeder above you. Some bounty hunter you were. The mandalorian probably had no trouble flying off after your bounty with his jetpack, and here you were swinging wildly from some poor soul’s speeder like an absolute fool. 

You continue to haul your way up until you get to the end of your fibercord, and grab back onto the side of the speeder, wasting no time to haul yourself up and over the side of it before there's any further mishaps. The diver continues to yell at you loudly in their forien language, fear lining every inch of it. You grunt as you finally make it into the passenger’s seat, and they start shouting at you louder, growing more and more desperate to shoo you off.

“Let me drive.” You gruff out, ignoring what you assume to be their pleas. Only, they don't move, just continue to shout at you, and honestly you’re getting irritated. You’ve wasted enough time dealing with this, you need to catch up to the mandalorian and your bounty--quickly. 

You pull out your blaster and point it at them. The driver shuts their mouth immediately at the sight of the blaster and you can see them gulp harshly. “Move...Let. me. drive.” You enunciate every word, dropping your voice to a threatening level. They make a small noise of distress before nodding once. Good, they understand basic. Or at the very least, they understand the blaster. You grab onto the steering controls with one hand and you awkwardly and unceremoniously trade places with the driver. 

“Hold on tight.” you shout over to your unwilling passenger. The second you get a firm hold of the controls, you immediately accelerate, speeding up as fast as the small civilian speeder would go. You can hear the driver next to you muttering what you assume to be prayers under their breath, while they clutch to their seat with all of their strength. They gasp and cry out every time you make a risky maneuver. You're pretty sure you break every flying law Coruscant has, as you zip through lanes of traffic, cutting through with no regard to anyone else flying around you. The aggravated beeps of other drivers fall on deaf ears. You can’t be bothered, you need to catch up. 

You see the mandalorian first, following close behind the bounty, dodging the occasional blaster fire she shoots out blindly at him. She's heading right for the dock, she must have a ship lined up and ready to go. Maybe if you’re quick enough you can cut her off from the front. The mandalorian was already right behind her, it was the perfect plan. There's no way she could escape if you pull this off. You quickly veer the speeder to the side and make your way to the opposite side of the dock, picking up as much speed as you can. 

The driver in your passenger seat screams as you come barreling down towards the platform of the dock without slowing down. You pull up tight on the controls and level out the best you can, scraping the bottom of the speeder as you slide along the platform. Sparks fly around you, before you come to a sharp halt. You immediately jump out over the side, and start sprinting in the direction of your bounty without a word to the driver. 

You can’t see your bounty yet, or the mandalorian for that matter, there's too much clutter along the platform. Crates, supply lifts, workers, and ships are scattered all over, but you know what direction she was heading, so you don’t stop running. Picking up as much speed as you possibly can, blaster in hand, you’re ready. You will not let anything stand in your way. 

There was no way she was going to escape. 

You hear blaster fire to your left, and see worker droids fleeing the area. You round a corner around a large stack of supply crates when you finally catch sight of her in a wide open landing area. Her neon jumpsuit makes her easy to spot from the rest of the clutter. She doesn’t seem to notice you as she continues sprinting towards what you assume to be her ship, case still in hand, firing behind her at what you can only expect to be your mandalorian hunting partner.

This was it, this was your chance. Your blood is rushing in your ears, you’re locked onto her, the only thing you’re focused on as you continue to barrel towards her. She was close enough, you could catch her by surprise and tackle her to the ground, and the mandalorian could catch up to support. No mistakes--no hesitation--you have to go for it--

But as soon as you take the leap--

PANG 

Your vision goes black, a deafening ring goes echoing through your helmet that shifts into a horrible, loud, and awful white noise. 

Then, a pain. An absolutely excruciating, sharp, pounding pain, surrounding your entire head. The pressure feels unbearable, the ache searing behind your eyes. Your wincing at the pain only causing it to grow. 

You groan gruffly as things slowly come back to you one at a time. You flex your fingers and find them pressed against some kind of metal beneath you--you were facedown on the ground. How did you end up on the ground? You go to lift yourself up, but your vision is blurry and fading in and out. You manage to sit up slightly, and it takes you a minute to realize he's shouting at you. 

“Get up! She’s getting away, we gotta get back to the ship.” He grabs you by your arm and roughly helps you to your feet. But? You’re so confused, what just happened? Your head is still pounding, and you feel like you could fall over any second, but you try your best to keep steady. 

“Wh-...what happened?” You barely manage to get the words out as the both of you start to run towards your ship. There’s no way it was the quarry...was it? She wasn’t even looking at you, she didn’t even see you. Right? 

“You ran into my line of fire, now keep up or we’ll lose her!” he shouts over his shoulder to you, over the noise of the bustling dock. Wait...ran into his line of fire? The realization hits you like a ton of duracrete. 

“You kriffing shot me?!” The anger building in your chest sobers you up almost instantly. This idiot actually shot you! You would have had the bounty, she was right there. You practically had her in your grasp, but this absolute, bantha brained--bucket headed---fool, let her get away because he SHOT YOU in the back of the head. 

“You jumped in my line of fire.” He snaps back angrily at you. He sounds just as furious as you are. Not sure why--he's not the one that got shot in the back of the head. 

“You idiot! You’re lucky I'm wearing beskar, you could have killed me!” You’re shouting only increasing in both volume and fury as the two of you make it to the ship. The mandalorian hits a control on his vambrace to lower the ramp as you approach. 

“No, I think you’re lucky you’re wearing beskar.” He challenges, as he quickly makes his way up the ramp and through the hull. Oh you’re gonna kill him. Snap his neck and grab the bounty yourself. 

“Are you really that dim?!” You stomp through the hull right behind him, shouting up the ladder as he climbs to get to the cockpit, “Do you not look where you’re shooting? I can’t believe my bounty is getting away, because you shot me! Like a dumbass!” You grip the rungs of the ladder with such force and you stomp your way up, pure resentment filling every single movement as you make it up to the cockpit, “You kriffing moof milker!” 

He’s ignoring you now. Slamming down buttons and initiating take off as quickly as he can in hopes of catching up to the bounty as you continue to sling insults at him. You angrily sit in the copilot’s seat and buckle in as the ship begins to ascend. 

“I nearly had her! You tin-headed moron!” Despite the quietness inside the ship compared to the dock outside, you’re still shouting at him just as loud. Your irritation for this man is at an all time high, and that's saying something considering how often he seems to bring you to the edge of murder on the daily. All of the times he had gotten in your way this entire hunt, all of the times you felt like he was slowing you down, all of the times you felt like you were better off doing things yourself, and now this? Ohhh you hate him. You cannot wait to capture this bounty, collect your reward, and be on your way. You relish the day you get to turn away and never see this shiny mandalorian ever again.

The ship jerks roughly as the mandalorian rushes the ship through the air, twisting and turning wildly to avoid colliding with the heavy air traffic of Coruscant. Struggling to catch up with your bounty’s ship as it barrels towards the atmosphere. Every rough jolt of the ship only feeds into your seething rage. 

“Kriff! Did a wampa teach you to fly? Get it together, dumbass!”  He continues to ignore you as he flies, like he can’t even hear you, and maker, it pisses you off. The two of you are gaining on the bounty’s ship, quickly closing the distance between her ship and yours. She’s barely managing to dodge around other ships making their way through air traffic, before  it looks like she's going to directly collide with one. She doesn’t slow down and she accelerates towards it, until she fires. Blasting right through the ship and flying through the smoke and debris. 

The mandalorian tries his best to swerve out of the way of oncoming debris, jerking roughly to one side, which sends you slamming into the side console despite your seatbelt, but a large chunk still collides with the side of the ship. It’s like deja-vu when the ship gets knocked over in air, the rough shaking and awful clang of metal on metal, alarms blaring deafeningly, reminding you of your wreck nearly a week ago.

“IDIOT!” You shriek over blaring alarms as the mandalorian struggles to get the ship to straighten back out in the air. “Are you trying to kill us?! First you shoot me, and now you’re trying to get us stranded on Coruscant! Do you know how much repairs cost on this maker forsaken planet?!” The ship is rattling violently as he attempts to break through the atmosphere after the quarry, and you’re not sure you’re going to make it. “How did I end up stuck working a job with such a blurg-brained-no-good discount droid?!” You have to shout even louder to even be slightly audible over the blaring alarms, and brutal clunking and rattling of the ship, as she struggles and groans to break the atmosphere. 

You are almost positive the whole thing is going to come apart before you can make it into open space, but much to your surprise, the ship manages to stay together and make it through the atmosphere--just in time to watch your bounty jump into hyperspace. The stretch and blink of her ship disappearing is the final blow to your already shattered mood. 

“Farrik!” You shout and slam your fist into your armrest. You turn to face the mandalorian next to you, with every intention of flinging more insults his way, when you see him furiously flicking controls on the pain panel. There’s no way--he's not actually planning on trying to make the jump is he? This ship is on the verge of falling apart, you won’t make it. This whole ship will be ripped to shreds with you still in it. 

“What are you doing?! We won’t make it! You’re gonna kill us!” Your shouts fall on deaf ears, with the way he’s ignoring you it’s like you haven't said anything at all, like you aren’t even there. You watch in horror as he tightly takes hold of the controls and pulls back, forcing the ship to make the jump. You hold your breath, and the ship jolts and rattles violently, as stars start to smear past the cockpit viewport. Ear-splitting alarms still echoing throughout the ship, as you somehow make your way into hyperspace-- 

That is until you’re being ripped right back out. The whole ship jerks forward with such force that both you and the mandalorian end up colliding with the control panel with an accompanying grunt. You hear a bunch of things shift in the ship's hull and you pray to the maker the kid is okay in there. You come to a sudden halt and everything in the ship powers down, until you are left floating, sitting in the cockpit in complete darkness, minus a few red emergency lights. There's a slow whirr of all the ship's machinery powering down, until there's nothing. Complete silence fills the cockpit. 

“You…,” You start to break the silence, starting off quietly, barely above a murmur, until you gradually raise your volume back to an aggravated yell, “You absolute MORON! Bantha fodder! Moof-milking asshole!” 

He says nothing, continues to ignore you as if you don’t even exist as he slowly gets up from the pilots seat and goes to open a panel in the back of the cockpit. 

You murmur to yourself again, pressing one of your hands to the front of your visor in pure exasperation,“Di’kut…,” You shake your head, before turning to shout at him again, “Di’kutla!” The mandalorian flinches slightly, so subtly you think your eyes might be playing tricks on you in the dark. Oh, but that fuels you, all it took was that slight movement, and you know that must have struck him differently. 

You’re not fluent in Mando’a by any means, but you know what you learned from your late husband. And insults were his favorite. They were the first thing you learned, and the thing you’re most familiar with. And now that you know those might actually affect the idiot you're working with? You start throwing out every insult you know, “Utreekov shabiir!” Empty headed screw up, “Gar mirsh solus!” you’re a dumbass, “Di’kut!” Idiot. You say each one with such a passion, because maker knows you mean it. 

After messing with the control panel, the lights come back on, and you hear the low hum of machinery powering back up. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he walks back over to his seat and starts flicking switches to power up the ships thrusters. 

“We’re going to have to stop on the next closest planet for repairs.” He finally speaks up, but it's your turn to ignore him. You’re furious, this was the worst hunting experience you have ever had, and it was all his fault. Your bounty was long gone by now, probably halfway across the galaxy. All that time on Coruscant? Wasted. He doesn’t say anything when he gets up again and leaves you alone in the cockpit, probably to go check on the kid. 

You sit there alone angrily staring out as the ship slowly crawls its way along the stars. Seething in your own frustration. At this point, you don’t know if you’ll be able to make it to the next closest planet without killing him first. You hate him, you absolutely hate that shiny, tin-brained, fool of a mandalorian.  *** Previous - MASTER - Next 

[jewel-s-blog]

I gotta bad habit - mafia!au

mafia member!jeno x y/n!reader

Warnings: mentions of death, dramatic arrest, brief suggestive content

WC: 4,244

1% fluff, 99% purified angst

What happens to your quickly progressing romance with mafia member!Jeno when you find out about the truth to who he really is? And what exactly happened in your past that makes the choice to leave or stay so difficult? Most of all, when it comes to falling in love with a member of the mafia, does it really matter what you decide?  

“Don’t go.” You begged after he kissed you gently with your face between his palms. Jeno chuckles at the pout on your lips before placing another quick peck.

“I’ll be back soon baby, I promise.”

“No…” You whine when he finally pushes himself away and sits up from the bed.

There’s not much you can say that will keep him from leaving, that much you already know. So your eyes just follow him as he starts picking up his clothes from the floor and hastily puts them on.

Jeno always did this to you. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a sweet guy, or uncaring, or anything bad really. In fact, Lee Jeno was truly one of the warmest people you knew in this town, and he made sure to show you every chance he got. The only catch was that he never had many chances. He would show up randomly, after weeks of disappearing, and then profess how much he’d missed seeing you. It didn’t help that each visit would be during ungodly hours of the night, which put you even more on edge considering the sketchy neighborhood you lived in and answering the door for anybody was always a risk. On top of that, you’d always thought that if he had really missed you so much, then why’d he keep ghosting you only to show up again days, weeks, or even months later? The answer? Jeno was a creature of habit. And so were you. Just as you were his habit, he was yours. And as you would soon come to find out, he was a bad one.

When he finished pulling his jumper over his head, he was fully dressed again. Clad in black skinny jeans and a black jumper, the sight of Jeno’s all black attire was something you’d grown accustomed to. It was his uniform of sorts—something you had learned after noticing the repetitive color scheme. But still, you admire how riveting he looked, and the thought of how it may be awhile before you’d be able to see him again floods your mind.

“Please,” you plead, “can’t you just stay tonight?”

Initially, you’d thought that this time would be different. Jeno usually had the decency to at least call or text before showing up at your place, most likely to make sure you were actually home. But tonight, he’d really just shown up out of the blue. No call, no text, just came knocking at nearly 2 in the morning. The rational side of you was nervous to answer the door at such a time, but the other not-so-rational-side had an inkling that it would be him standing outside your door, even if you hadn’t heard from him for a good three weeks. 

Nonetheless, when you unlocked and unchained your beaten door, the sight of a rather frantic-looking Lee Jeno caught you by surprise. His eyes were bold, a stark change from the crescents that he adorned for majority of your time spent together. It looked like he was out of breath, as if he’d sprinted all the way to stand before you. You didn’t know exactly what to expect when you opened the door that night, but the words “I love you” falling from Jeno’s lips were definitely not on the list of possibilities you’d had in mind.

It was far different from the usual proclamation of having “missed you like crazy,” or “I really need[ed to see] you.” Of course he did end up saying those things to you at one point in the night, but never before were these phrases led by his profession of love.

And yet, here you were again, watching as he got ready to leave after letting him use you and your bed for a measly hour.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he finishes up his belt, “I really would stay if I could.” His hands drop to his sides as he watches you sit up with the duvet securely pulled to cover your upper body. “Baby, you have no idea how badly I want to get back in bed with you right now,” he sighs.

“Then just stay,” you try to reason.

Reaching out your hands to pull him back to bed only slightly works as he does crouch over to retake your face in his hands and kiss you. But he doesn’t actually sit back on the bed, knowing that if he did, he would have trouble getting out of it again. Instead he opts to repeat the three words that he had greeted you with earlier that night.

“I love you,” he says with closed eyes and his forehead leaning against yours, “I mean it.” You can feel his thumbs caressing delicately along your jawbone, with the remainder of his large hands lightly resting on either side of your neck. 

Things sure do feel different tonight in comparison to your previous rendezvous. If you were to be entirely honest, you did notice little changes each time he came back to see you. A lingering kiss before leaving. Or him having a flower in hand when you opened the door to greet him in the early hours of the morning. You had a feeling things were starting to change, but with the gaps that Jeno left you, nothing was ever certain with him. It was better not to assume things—safer. Perhaps that is why you are still so taken aback by his words as he continues holding you so, waiting for a response. 

You hadn’t said it back to him yet, but it was mainly due to the fact that you hardly had the chance considering his mouth was on yours the moment he walked through your door. But in this moment, you desperately want to say it back. So you take a deep breath, leaning back into him and brushing your nose against his before whispering,

“I love—” 

Just as you begin to reciprocate his feelings, a loud knock resounds through the apartment. And before you can say anything else, there is another loud knocking—no, pounding—on your old door. At the alarming sound, your face pulls away from Jeno’s, much to his dismay. While your body becomes tense at the thought of someone other than Jeno knocking at your door at this hour, he seems much more collected than you.

His hands draw your face to look back at him, and he’s kissing you again. He kisses you so hard that you’re sure it will bruise nicely tomorrow. But you don’t have the luxury of closing your eyes to enjoy the moment as your mind is now racing with thoughts of who could possibly be banging so harshly at the wooden threshold to your apartment if it weren’t Jeno.

“I love you so much,” he says again, a little harsher this time staring into your widened eyes.

Then another loud bang. The sound manages to tear Jeno’s attention from you for a second, and next thing you know he’s throwing your own clothes at you.

“Quickly. Put these on,” he whisper-yells at you, tossing your pajama shorts and T-shirt on your lap.

“Wha-? Jeno, what’s going—?” He doesn’t let you finish your question. 

“Now, ____. Put your clothes on NOW.” His voice is stern, and the boldness in his eyes returns, making your stomach flip and your hands fumble for your shorts.

“Jeno! What is going on?!” you whisper back as you hurriedly pull your shorts on under the blanket. Ignoring your question again and not happy that your upper half is still exposed, Jeno takes it upon himself to yank your raggedy shirt over your head before trying to force it down.

“I got it, Jeno.” You huff, trying to grab the ends of the shirt from his rough hands. “I said, I got it!” The frustration in your voice is all too clear and the situation only grows more tense when you hear a booming voice from behind your apartment door.

“This is the police! Open up!”

In that moment, Jeno notices the shift from frustration to confusion and ultimately shock settling over your features. Your eyes are wide again, and you can’t bring yourself to do more than stare up at the man before you, questioning everything that’s happened in the time you’ve known him.

“Jeno…” you barely say his name.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he replies to you lowly, voice much softer than before, and picks you up from the bed. You feel the strength of his arms as they wrap around your waist to pull your body to his. He’s about to say something else before getting cut off again from the voice outside.

“Police! Open up now! Final warning!”

“Don’t. Move.” He says to you before reluctantly releasing his grip on your waist and leaving your bedroom to reach the front door. For a second your feet are glued to the bedroom carpet, trying to process what he’d just asked of you.

Of course you don’t listen and instead you follow him out as quickly as he had left. But not before Jeno is swinging the door open to reveal exactly what the loud voice had announced moments ago. From there, everything happens so fast that time starts to blur.

There are two officers with guns facing into the apartment and are trained directly at Jeno. Two more police officers cross through your apartment’s entrance and you freeze in the living room when they each grab Jeno by the arms to yank them behind his back. Seeing this, your feet automatically start shuffling you closer, and a near-cry escapes your throat.

“What is this?! What is going on?!”

“Lee Jeno, you are under arrest for aiding in an armed robbery…” one of the other officers begins citing Jeno’s reasons for arrest followed by his rights as he sheaths his gun back in its holster, but his voice is overwhelmed by your much louder one. You don’t know why your first instinct is to defend a man whom you knew almost nothing about other than the menial details he entrusted you with, but you do it anyway.

“Under arrest?!” You practically scream in disbelief. “There has to be a mistake! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

There are warm pools forming in your eyes and they threaten to leak when his eyes meet yours. Having spun him around to handcuff his wrists, Jeno was now facing directly at you under the grip of his two arresting officers. You shakily inhale at the sight—the sight of the man who had just confessed his love to you being arrested for reasons you knew not of.

You’re not sure what comes over you to make you rush toward him, but one second you’re in the middle of your living room and in the next, two police officers are struggling to keep you away from being with the one person you needed to get answers from.

The worst part of it all is that you have this horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach that you may never get any answers from him. So you scream and thrash out, breaking yourself free for just a moment so that you can cup his face just as he did to yours when he told you that he loved you. You should have known the moment you opened the door to him tonight that things were going to be different. You should have known that when his first words to you were “I love you,” that there had to be a reason. You notice as his own eyes grow watery, but the time you have is cut short because you only see his face for a second before you feel your own hands being pulled behind you.

Refusing to let yourself be pulled any further, you let your body fall to the ground and continue watching as he also struggles to do anything to get closer to you. Jeno’s wild eyes are fixated at your broken form on the floor, before calling to you.

“Baby, remember what I said. Everything’s gonna be o-kay,” he says strained against the forces pulling his body backward. Soon the officers have managed to drag him out the door, and before you can lose sight of him a cry flies from your lips.

“No!” is all that you can manage while trying to stand yourself up to follow him. But the hands pushing you down are much too strong against your smaller frame, and your knees hit harshly back down to the hardwood flooring. Another cry rips through your throat, not from the pain in your knees, but from the agony you feel tightening around your chest.

Jeno can’t see you anymore, but he still hears the pain in your cry when you fall back to the ground. His eyes are no longer wild, but squeezed shut in frustration. Few tears fall freely down his high cheekbones when he calls through the hallway, “I’ll be back soon baby, I promise!” His voice reaches your ears, and you think about how he’d said the exact same words not too long ago, but this time you knew they felt…different…like he really did mean it. 

Other than a few more grunts from his struggles down the hallway, you don’t hear any more from him that night. Instead, the only sound you can hear is the one of your own ragged breathing. There are warm streaks running down to your chin, and you all but collapse in on yourself at the exhaustion your body feels from the whirlwind of events the early hours of the morning has brought.

What brings you back to the reality of still having two officers standing above you, is the crackling noise of their radios. You never could understand what was said through those things, and with the state you were in now, there was no way you could even try to make out what was coming out of them. Instead you try to steady your breathing, collecting your mind as you sniff back the loose tears. 

“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to cooperate. Can you do that?” The female officer on your right leans down, trying to read body language since your face is pressed into the ground. 

You take a moment before nodding and sitting up. Your breathing has somewhat steadied, and you’ve managed to cease any more onslaught of tears. From there you listen to what the officers have to say to you. And from there, you learn a lot more about Lee Jeno in a few sentences from these strangers than the man himself had ever cared to tell you. 

And it is why you find yourself, six weeks later, looking at the very same man through a thick plexi-glass while holding a call-booth style phone to your ear. 

“Hey baby.” The smile that normally had you falling for Jeno every second of everyday was finally beaming brightly in front of you after more than a month. It wasn’t the longest period of time that you went without being able to catch a glimpse of it, but it sure had you feeling different this time around. 

Unsure of what to say, you just keep looking at him through the glass. It was the first time you’d ever seen him wearing glasses and from what you could tell, they were pretty thick ones. They looked strangely fitting on his handsome face, somehow making him appear even kinder than you once believed him to be.  However, it wasn’t only the glasses Jeno wore that made him seem out of place from the memories you had of him. 

Orange is not a color you were used to seeing him in, especially since you’d never seen him in any color other than black. This new sight before you strikes a chord and you can already feel your tear ducts ready to burst. You can’t breath, and his smile is disappearing as soon as he sees your face in the beginning stages of a sob.

“Baby…wait, don’t—don’t cry. I’m so happy to see you. You have no idea.” He offers a chuckle to try and lift the mood. 

But he misunderstands. You’re not about to cry because you’re sad. You want to cry because of how frustrated and upset you are. 

“You…lied to me.” In the time that Jeno was being indicted, you couldn’t meet with him. You weren’t immediate family or his attorney, so it was hard to find a way to see him any sooner. 

Over the six weeks you couldn’t see him, a lot of thoughts crossed your mind. After learning about his true “profession,” a hefty chunk of you wanted to swear on your mother’s grave to never see Jeno again. You knew what people like him were capable of. You’d seen it with your own eyes on the day that everything you loved was cruelly ripped away from you. No sane person would want to be in a relationship with someone who did the things Jeno did on the regular. 

And you were in a really tough spot now, because no matter how much your friends counseled you to “stay away from him ___,” you struggled to let go. Before, you had cut out any possible dangers in your life to protect the remaining things you loved. But how could you do that now, when the one person you had come to love most was also the one thing you vowed to never get involved with. The wild mix of emotions left you entirely drained most nights, but sleep never came to you, which only succeeded in giving you even more time to stew in your thoughts of anger, heartbreak, and confliction. All those sleepless nights are what culminated the four words you spoke to him through the clunky telephone.

“No, no. Baby, I didn’t lie to you.” At your accusation, his face drops again and he starts shaking his head vigorously. “I—I was only trying to protect you,” he stammers.

“But you knew about everything. I told you everything.” Jeno knew about your past and your fears. You’d told them to him when he would come on nights that you were feeling extra paranoid and had near panic attacks when he came knocking. “And don’t call me that. I’m not your child,” you practically spit at his already hurt-looking face. 

“Okay,” he seems slightly shaken by your curt request, “___……that’s exactly why I couldn’t tell you. I only wanted to keep you safe…” 

“Keep me safe? Safe?! It never occurred to you that you were the one putting me in danger?!” The thoughts you held onto for the past six weeks were finally becoming verbalized. But your incredulous tone only sparked further passion in his own response. 

“Of course it occurred to me ___!” His free hand clenched into a fist and fell onto the table just in front of him. You felt the intensity of the action as the table top that was shared on both sides of the glass vibrated accordingly. “That’s why I tried so hard to keep my distance from you! Why do you think I would go months without seeing you?”

And that’s when you really connected the pieces. Back when you were stewing in thoughts, it didn’t occur to you that his absences were explained in his effort to protect you. You’d figured that they were all because of his “duties” and unspoken jobs that he was always gone or too busy. 

“Lee, wrap it up.” A nearby guard states, and Jeno briefly looks away to quickly nod back in acknowledgement. 

But the conversation had died. And you no longer had it in you to dig any further into the man that was Lee Jeno. You just wanted to keep the memory of the Lee Jeno that you ignorantly held before this all happened. Knowing more would only make the decision you were about to make that much harder. Still, he does his best to open you up to him in the little time he has left. But your answers fall short, eyes never really meeting his. So he sighs, knowing that whatever he said next would likely be the closing to today’s exchange.

“I’ll see you again soon, right?”

“Hmm.” You don’t nod or look up, but just hum softly back to him. He waits for something more, and when he’s met with silence he prods,

“Come back soon, okay?”

“M’kay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

There’s a pause before he asks, “Hey baby?”

Jeno’s question has you needing to take a breath, even if it is embarrassingly shaky. 

“Yes?” You finally find it in yourself to lift your eyes as you whisper back to him. 

“I love you.” The corners of his lips turn up slightly, but the smile fails to reach his eyes.

Nothing could possibly stop the nearly silent cry that comes out when your mouth opens next. You drop the telephone and use your hands to cover the bottom half of your face. But it does little to cover the tears that are finally falling from the corners of your eyes.

The two of you sit there with him watching you quietly weep, but then you look away. And as if on cue, the prison guard comes up behind Jeno saying, “Time to go.”

“Just one more second.” Jeno doesn’t look in the direction of the voice behind him, and instead keeps his focus fixed on you. But the guard is already grabbing the telephone out of Jeno’s hand and placing it back on the receiver. 

“You’ve used up all your time for the month already. Limit the people who visit you next time.” The guards’ words are indifferent, and he positions himself to begin escorting Jeno back to the cells. 

Limit what people? you think to yourself. How many other people had come to see him already? You should’ve guessed that his “co-workers” might have dropped by as soon as he was able to have visitors, or maybe another woman even. Nothing was ever official between the two of you anyway. But the way he acts now unfortunately makes you believe the latter scenario to be unlikely. 

“Wait, please.” He begs, but a hand grips under his arm to lift him from the seat on the other side of the glass. “I just need one more second.” Jeno’s index finger is extended, showing that he just needed a spare moment more. 

“Sorry, I already gave more time than I should’ve. And there are other inmates waiting.” Watching this exchange, you see reality and remember that you’ve already made up your mind. It would be now or never.

“…I love you.” You finally whisper back. And immediately, you wish you’d said it earlier. 

Because Jeno can’t hear it. Nor does he see it, because he’s too busy trying to fight off the hands attempting to get him standing. Everything you hear from the other side is muffled, but you can still feel the distress linger in his words. 

The guard on your side of the glass comes behind you as well, and also tells you that it’s time to go. When you don’t hesitate to stand up to leave, you can hear him yelling “Wait!” from the other side. But rather than staying to witness the scene he was causing, you opt to turn away and head for the exit door. You didn’t want anyone here, especially him, to see you more broken than you already were. 

So you leave without so much as a ‘goodbye’. 

Little did Jeno know, that would be the last time he saw you. Little did he know, you wouldn’t keep your promise. That you wouldn’t come back to see him. He waited, but you never showed. Not after a week, or a month, or even a year.

Because if there was one thing you feared most in life, it would be losing everything you had to a criminal. Your city was full of them. And you despised each and every one. He was no exception. They’d taken everything from you once before, and you were certain to never let it happen again. You’d used to agonize every time a knock came to your door, remembering that was how you’d lost everything and everyone you once had. 

For a while, having Jeno meant that most knocks would come from him on the nights he decided to grace you with his presence. But it was so foolish of you to never realize that he was the one you should’ve been afraid of standing behind your door all along.

Now it is years later. And you have not once seen or heard from him again, but you still have a fear. You fear that one day there will come a knock. A knock on the door to your new apartment. A knock on the door to your new apartment that he’s somehow found. A knock that you fear you will answer despite your better judgment. A knock you will stupidly answer and let into your life all over again simply because he’d finally come to you even when you failed to go to him. A knock from Lee Jeno.

You knew it would come, because it always did.

No matter how long he disappeared for, he had promised you he’d come back.

And even if you’d broken yours, you knew that a man like Jeno would never break his promises.

a/n: Hello readers! Happy Jeno day! I’m sorry if this is a bit belated for some readers as I’m located in PST and did a final edit last minute. This is purely a work of fiction and the characterizations aren’t 100% pulled from Jeno himself (we all know he’s literally a fluffball) but are simply based off an idea. I apologize if there are any errors or typos, it’s 3am and I have a quiz in a few hours to prepare for. As always, feedback is welcome! If you love angst as much as I love writing it, I hope this was satisfctory <3 xoxo, jewel

[mackwritess]

Westwood Road

Word count: 3k+

Summary: It’s your average high school romance. The boy meets a girl who accepts him despite his hidden secret, and in turn he changes her. But what happens when she’s got her own little secret?

A/N: Hi! This story represents a lot of milestones for me as this is both my first commission and my first attempt at romance! I hope you like it!

He’s running late. It’s a character flaw of his, really. A problem he’s never been able to correct, no matter how many alarms he set to go off in time. This time though, it isn’t just some unimportant thing he’s late for, oh no.

Today, he’s meeting her parents.

He takes a sharp turn down her street, the street people normally avoid. He doesn’t have time to think about the warnings he’s gotten about this old gravel road. He has somewhere to be.

He finally decides to slow down a bit in order to ensure he doesn’t pass up his destination by mistake. Slowing down to what feels like a snail’s pace, he pays close attention to each disheveled home he passes by, looking out for the house that was described to him.

Luckily, he didn’t have to look particularly hard, as she was standing outside the very place he was looking for, waiting for him to arrive.

He slows his vehicle to a stop and jumps out immediately, trying to make up every second he may have lost. Running over to where she stands, he tries to rush out an apology, explaining his situation. Instead of lashing out as he fears, she offers him a serene, almost eerie, smile. She assures him he’s right on time, and takes his hand to lead him inside.

~

How they met was something straight out of a romantic comedy.

He was running late, of course, to a special event at his local video game store. He insists it’s not his fault this time, really, it’s not. He’s got a reputation to uphold, he can’t be caught hanging out with a bunch of people who’ve never even been to prom without a group of friends rather than a date, he rationalizes. He’s ducking around corners and hiding behind telephone poles in a borderline cartoonish manner, hoping he won’t run into someone from school, specifically anyone he’s on a team with.

After finally arriving at the store, he can finally drop his elaborate manner of movement, certain that he’ll run into no trouble here. Upon arrival, he spots the table set up for the event he’s attending, already surrounded by others who are there for the same reason he is. He scans the scene quickly, looking for a place to sit, and his eyes find an empty seat next to a girl.

He thinks nothing of it and takes a seat next to her, offering her a small smile when he does. It’s only when she turns to look at him that he realizes he knows her from somewhere. Perhaps he’s seen her in the store before, though he isn’t quite sure.

Today’s event is for a game tournament. It’s a relatively popular game, if the attendance of this event is anything to go by. After the order of the tournament is decided, he’s careful not to take his eyes off his other opponents' game play, hoping to catch on to any tricks they may have.

The girl he had sat next to doesn’t appear to have any particular strategy. Unlike her more animated competitors, she remains calm, her expression blank.

Eventually, after making his way up the tournament bracket, he finds himself facing her in the final. He’s nervous, having been unable to learn anything about her potential, but can tell that she’s skilled.

“I’m nervous,” she says suddenly, “You’re really good.”

He’s caught off guard. She hasn’t spoken a word this entire time, and he’s certain he’s only gotten this far by luck. All he can do is offer her a sheepish smile, before the game begins.

He’s feeling a little misled by the time their turn concludes. Not only was he utterly destroyed, but their match was the shortest out of all the others, lasting a measly two minutes. She’s given her prize, a gift card to be used in the store, and immediately stands from her seat, presumably to begin her shopping with her newly earned funds.

He finds himself following after her, not to berate her or accuse her of cheating like some people his age might do, but rather to ask how the hell she managed to do what she did in such a fashion. He finds her looking at the old used games, likely because of their relatively low price range compared to the rest of the items in the store.

He’s unsure how to approach her, the first time he’s ever been nervous about such a thing. He can’t quite place it, but something about her is making him feel sheepish and insecure in a way. It’s when he finally decides what he’ll start with, a simple “hello” that he sees her pick up an old game he recalls from childhood. Immediately, he calls out to her, seeming to startle her, and explains the relationship he has with the game.

“It’s one of the first games I ever owned,” he elaborates. “I’ve never even gotten to complete it. Haven’t seen the cartridge in years.”

The girl seems to consider his words. “What if I let you borrow it? After I’m done with it, of course.”

He lights up at her offer. “I would love that!” He says, albeit a little loudly, attracting the attention of other patrons in the store. Taking note, he lowers his voice. “But how would I know to get it back from you, and how would I return it?”

“Well, it is the twenty-first century after all. I could just give you my number.” He cringes at himself, realizing how clueless he must seem.

“Right, yea, we could do that.” He moves to take her phone to enter his number before pausing. “Wait. Do you mind keeping this a secret?”

“I mean, sure,” she says, clearly confused by his odd request, “Can I ask why?”

“No one knows I do things like this, it’s a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. If people found out, my reputation would be ruined.” He expects her to get angry. To tell him he has no respect for the hobby or the people who play professionally.

Instead, she laughs.

“What year is this? Dude, everyone plays video games these days. What, do you think you’re gonna get bullied if you tell your friends you like Mario?” She laughs again, and he decides he likes the sound of it.

“It’s a long story, alright? Just promise me you won’t say anything,” he says, trying to preserve what little dignity he has left after today.

“Fine, fine. I’ll keep your dirty little secret,” she says. She hands him his phone, and he quickly inputs his name and number. Upon finishing, he looks up and hands the phone back to her. Though, he’s afraid to make eye contact, so instead he finds himself watching the fly that seems to have appeared out of nowhere.

“How long do you think it’ll take for you to finish?” He asks, trying to shift the conversation back.

“Not sure,” she says with a shrug. “I’ve never played, could be weeks, months even. But I’ll get back to you as soon as I finish.” He nods, already eager to talk to her again.

Three days later, he receives a message.

~

What had begun as a simple exchange had quickly turned into a friendship between the two of them. The two of them clicked better than he had ever expected. Upon talking more to her, he realizes she looked familiar because they have a few classes together. He worries that she’ll be upset that he didn’t know her, but instead she laughs it off.

They’ve made it a weekly tradition now to meet once every week at the game store where they first met. They talk about their favorite releases, look at new equipment that the store has gotten in, and comb over the clearance section, hoping to get their hands on a cheap game or two.

This time, though, his luck appears to have run out.

The two of them are making their way around the store, looking for a particular pair of headphones that professional gamers swear is the best product in the business. Upon examining them, deciding they won’t look at the price tag just yet, he hears a familiar voice call out his name.

He looks up, and is met with the confused expression of his teammate.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I’m looking for some game for my brother, he’s got his heart set on it so I’m getting it as a Christmas gift. What are you doing here?”

He stutters, trying to come up with an explanation, when she peers from behind him to see what the sudden commotion is about.

“It’s a game store, can’t you read?” She asks, obviously irritated by the interruption. “Why don’t you look for what you came here for and mind your business?”

He’s shocked by her sudden outburst, and when he turns to look at her, she’s back to browsing the shelves as if nothing happened.

“You’re here with her too? Man, you really must be desperate for something to do,” the other boy responds, unphased by her words.

“What’s wrong with her?” He lets slip immediately, wanting to return the favor.

“You’re telling me you haven’t heard? She lives on Westwood Road. You know, that old freaky abandoned road at the edge of town?”

“So what?”

“What do you mean, so what?” The boy balks. “That place is haunted, no sane person would ever live there, besides, even ignoring the fact that she’s probably some undead weirdo, this place is for nerds.”

He moves to say something, but a fearful expression briefly moves past the other boy’s face, and he’s backing away.

“You know what? Forget it. I won’t tell anyone I saw you, just keep that freak away from me.” He turns around and quickly moves to another part of the store.

“Well,” she says, drawing his attention back to her, “that was something.”

He profusely apologizes to her, which she brushes off and insists is fine. She continues her shopping, deciding she’ll buy the overpriced headset she’s heard so much, and he asks when he’ll be allowed to borrow them.

~

It had been a few months since the incident, and rather than growing farther apart like he feared, they’d actually grown much closer. They spend almost every day together now, whether it be just goofing off or working on school assignments together. With spring break underway, today is one of their goofing off days.

He decides that today he’s going to ask her to go to prom with him.

He doesn’t really have a plan, deciding he’ll keep it simple and wing it rather than some big display of affection. He’ll wait for the right moment, and then he’ll ask her and hope he doesn’t get rejected.

They’re at a local diner now, having decided after last time that if they get confronted again that they can handle it. He’s listening to her explain the plot of a game she’s been struggling with lately. She’s clearly frustrated, having never struggled with a game before, and he finds it endearing.

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asks, not realizing he’s said anything until she stops ranting, a shocked expression appearing on her face.

“What did you just say?”

“I was just thinking, since we’ve been hanging out so much. I don’t know, I don’t really talk to any other girls and I really like spending time with you and I just thought-“

She cuts off his rambling by throwing a napkin at his face, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Relax, already. I just wanted to see you freak out a little,” she chuckles lightly. “I’d love to go with you.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, pulling another laugh from her.

“I really thought you’d reject me for a second there.”

“Do you really take me as being that heartless?”

“Heartless isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Intimidating?”

“That’s the one.”

They continue to talk for hours on end, until the street lights outside the diner turn on. Another fly appears in his field of vision, though his focus this time is entirely on her.

~

“What are you smiling about?” She asks, having stopped at her front door, waiting for him to snap back from whatever thought he was having.

“Remember prom?” She laughs immediately.

“Yea, how could I forget the wonky chocolate fountain they had that got all over everyone’s clothes?”

“I still can’t believe I talked you into going to an after party.”

“Listen, I heard there was a pool, I wasn’t about to say no.”

The two of them laugh again, reminiscing on the night they decided to make their relationship official.

“C’mon,” she says, suddenly much quieter, “let’s head in.”

He follows her through the door, and is met with a surprisingly nice house compared to the disheveled appearance. There’s a few paintings hung up on the wall, and an old fireplace lit in the living room.

He makes his way through the house, curiosity overtaking his thoughts that he may be acting a bit rude for digging around. He finds a decently sized kitchen, and a dining room straight out of a centuries old painting.

While he looks around, she’s following him slowly, hoping the old furniture is enough to distract him from her presence. She lifts the weapon above her head and, right as he moves to turn around, brings it down on his head.

~

He wakes up after what feels like days, when in reality it’s only been about an hour. His head is throbbing, and when he tries to move, he finds himself unable to, his hands having been tied behind him. He’s in a dark room, barely able to see anything as his visions adjusts to the lack of light. The smell of sulfur invades his nostrils, worsening his headache.

“You’re awake, I see. I thought you’d be out for at least another hour or two.”

He hears her voice before he sees her. When she steps forward, he notices something is different. Her demeanor has changed, and he finds himself sitting up in the chair he’s tied to.

“What happened? Where are we? Are you okay?”

“How sweet, you’re worried about me?” She sighs, “Don’t do that, my dear boy. You’re starting to make me feel a little bad for what’s about to happen.”

He’s about to ask her what she means, when she speaks again.

“Oh, have you not figured it out yet? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. This has been one of my most successful catches, after all.”

“Catches?” He asked, still not understanding.

“Must I explain everything?” She shrugs. “Fine, I suppose I can tell you how you’ll be dying.” His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to scream when she interrupts him. “Don’t bother, we’re underground. No one will hear you.”

“What the hell is going on? Who are you?”

“I have many names. It’d be easier if you think of me as the one I already gave you.”

“Why am I tied up? What are you doing?”

“Well in order to get to that, we’ll have to start from the beginning, wouldn’t you agree?” He doesn’t respond. “Why don’t we play a little game? Did you notice anything strange when we first met?”

He thinks back. Nothing particular stands out to him, except for one thing.

“There was a fly, that was pretty weird.” He finds himself laughing, despite his situation. “I was too afraid to look at you, so I watched the fly.”

“Judging by the way you’re laughing right now, I assume you don’t know what this means.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“Anything else you noticed? A certain smell perhaps?”

“Sulfur. I smell sulfur.” She says nothing. He’s deep in thought. “So you’re a demon?”

“Ding ding ding! Smart boy, I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“Why me? Why did it have to be me?”

“Oh, it’s nothing personal, really. You just seemed the perfect target. Looks like I was right.” Again, she’s met with silence. “I know it’s hard for you to accept, but I never loved you. You’re a food source for me, nothing more.” Still, he says nothing.

“So now what happens? You eat my soul or something?” He asks, finally.

“Precisely! And since you’ve won the game, I've decided to let you have your last words. Go ahead.” He looks her directly in the eye.

“You’re lying.”

“W-what?” She stutters, caught off guard. “I’m not lying, why else do you think your loud friend ran off that day?”

“No no, I believe that you’re a demon. What I don’t believe is that you never loved me.” It’s her turn to stay silent. Taking note, he continues. “It’s not hard to tell when feelings are real, and yours clearly were, whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”

“They weren’t!” She yells, beginning to shake.

“Now that I think about it, I’ve heard of your kind before. Your death relates to lost love, and now you live as a demon, breaking hearts and feeding on the souls because this is how you survive. How you get your revenge.”

“Stop it,” she screams, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you love me, really, but I know you no choice.” She’s crying now. All she can do is shake her head violently in denial. “But it’s okay. Because I still love you. And I forgive you.”

~

She leaves the house covered in his blood. She found herself unable to consume his soul, as even after all she’d done, she was still unable to break him. Out of anger, and sadness, she had ripped him apart, leaving his body scattered across the room.

For years, she’s been living on this road. She’d never encountered any problems, and she never had to think too much about what she would ultimately end up doing to her victims. This time was different.

She was suddenly disgusted with herself, after doing what she’d done to so many people. Maybe she’d find some other way to sustain herself. Perhaps one day, she’d reunite with him, one day when she felt she was worthy of a love so pure.

For now, though, she would leave Westwood Road, and start somewhere new.

[mypassionfortrash]

Nothing Serious (Parts 7 & 8)

SUMMARY: You and Roger decide to make a go of it and behave ‘like a normal couple’ in the wake of The Sun running a damning exposé on Roger’s love life and his divorce – and your disastrous attempts at dating other people. He also drunkenly makes you an offer you find hard to refuse.

Roger Taylor x Reader; Modern AU; Strictly 18+

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NOTES: Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on this; I honestly didn’t think anyone still gave a shit about my fics anymore, so I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Again, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

[Part 7]

The morning after that awful date, you and Roger decided to – in his words – “Make a go of it.”

This meant him sleeping over at your place every other night. According to Roger, this was to avoid rousing suspicions. But actually, Roger just loved being around you.

Your habit of neglecting your dishwashing duties didn’t bother him. And you couldn’t care less that he was more of a morning person than you; you enjoyed lying in bed, listening to him singing Taylor Swift in the shower. His day didn’t start until his bandmates kicked into action, so with time to spare, he always made you breakfast in bed, and packed you lunches to take to work. He insisted. When he learned that you always skipped breakfast, he was dismayed. This became a habit for him, looking after you. Mornings, evenings, everything, ran like clockwork.

Even sex.

That promise Roger made in Ibiza about teaching you a thing or two? That was long gone. Tamed and domesticated,  he loved missionary and whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he pumped you full of baby batter on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays – with double helpings on Saturdays. And neither of you minded. 

What your sex life lacked in kink and depravity, it made up for in a kind of intimacy that you doubted you’d find elsewhere.

So that was love. Finally.

A fortnight on from the Night of Terrible Dates, a sunny Sunday morning, Roger slid out of bed. He fumbled in the dull orange glow, tugging on a pair of jeans and a tattered t-shirt; he didn’t bother to comb his hair. It didn’t matter. He was only going to the end of the street to bring you your Sunday coffee. A proper one. 

Roger gently kissed your forehead and left you in a sweaty heap in bed. 

You shot him a dumb, delirious smile, watching him leave and trying to psyche yourself up for the notion of getting out of bed. You only knew one move in the bedroom, but you sure knew how to tucker yourself out, you huffed to yourself.

You got up, slipping on one of Roger’s t-shirts. Then you padded through to the bathroom. Your makeup from the night before had burrowed into caked lines around your eyes, and your foundation flaked around your nose. Drawing your cheeks up into a measly grin, you assessed the damage. And wondered how Roger put up with seeing your ugly mug in the morning.

You had no idea how he did it.

You got a bit carried away, though, feeling the last of Roger’s seed dribble down your thigh. Staring down at the offending swimmers in disgust, you fumbled for some loo roll to dispose of them once and for all.

Above the flush of the toilet, you heard the door slam. Roger was home. And it made your heart race. Kind of like the way dogs get excited to see their owners when they come home from work. You laughed at the thought. 

“Hey, Roger… Am I a pug or a lab?” you asked, watching as he slipped off his shoes.

“Huh?” he asked, turning around. He looked gormless, peering at you through his glasses with his mouth hanging open.

“I was thinking,” you began, throwing your arms around him, almost sending your coffees flying, “About how excited I get when you come home. I’m like a dog that gets all hyper over seeing its owner.”

“Right?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“So I was wondering whether I’m a pug or a labrador. What do you think?”

He narrowed his eyes, a goofy smirk spreading over his lips. “I think you’re more of a terrier. Small and yappy.”

“Well, in that case,” you pouted, crossing your arms. “You’re a chihuahua.”

“Very funny. We all know I’m more cat than dog,” he quipped. When he safely managed to remove you from him, avoiding any spills, he made his way into the living room and slapped a newspaper down on the coffee table.

The bold, red stripe at the top made your heartbeat accelerate. “What are you buying that muck for?”

“Brian texted me this morning. Dom’s told them everything. That Charlotte girl’s sold her story. And they have eyewitness accounts of how I forced a crying girl out of the toilets in a French restaurant two weeks ago.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, folding your arms and trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“All of it,” you said. “This is just our luck, isn’t it? The girls at work are constantly pestering me for information about you and I don’t even know what to tell them anymore. They know more about us than we know about each other.”

“How are we supposed to be a normal couple if this is going to keep happening?”

And then a lightbulb dinged above your head. Your eyes lit up as you threw yourself on to Roger’s lap. “Why don’t we do that?”

“Do what?” Roger asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Be a normal couple. Keep our noses clean. Do everything normal couples do.”

Roger tucked strands of your hair behind your ear as a smile broke across his face again. “How do you propose we do that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. See our friends. And if they talk, they talk. We need to be careful about what we say, though. But it might go well for us.”

Roger nodded, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “This could definitely work. But if we fuck up, they’ll never stop hounding us.”

“It’ll die down soon, though, won’t it?”

“I wouldn’t be so certain. Remember, I’m going to Montreux at the end of the month. So, you’re on your own if anything goes wrong.”

Feeling defeated, you sighed. That had slipped your mind. He’d be gone for two months. Maybe even more if arguments got the better of his bandmates.

Roger stroked the base of your back. “I’m only thinking about you,” he said, his baby blue eyes turning more and more watery. “I want you to be safe and for no one to bother you. And if anything else got out, how are you going to take it?”

You cupped Roger’s face in your hands. Your noses touched and your bodies pressed together.

“We’re going to need to get your friends on board,” he sighed, twirling strands of your hair around his fingers. 

“Do you want to meet them?” you asked.

“It can’t hurt, can it?”

A week later, you and Roger sat in his Panamera outside your building. It looked so out of place parked on a rammed residential street; it belonged outside a mansion or an opulent Notting Hill townhouse. You were dressed to the nines, poised for Roger to meet all of your coupled off and drowse-inducingly dull friends. He vibrated with nervous energy, but that much you could deduce from how he talked.

“Now tell me again what I’m not supposed to say to Cassie?”

“Don’t crack dead baby jokes in front of her. I, personally love them. But her and whatshisface have been trying for over a year and they’re looking at IVF now, which is going to wipe them out. She’s had like three miscarriages.”

“Got it,” Roger nodded, chewing his lip. “So is there anyone going tonight that’s actually… you know… fun? Do they have a sense of humour?”

You shook your head, loathe to admit that these people were your friends. You collected them back when they were much more adventurous; in high school when the only things that bothered you were which Charlie body spray your mum was going to buy you that week, or how you were going to score a packet of cigs on your lunch break. Now they were all paired off with kids. Some of them dropped out of uni when they met ‘the one.’ Some of them didn’t even make it to uni. “None of them are particularly funny. Their humour got dumped out of their uteruses.”

“Right,” Roger said, starting the car. “This is going to be a long night.”

“I’ve got a bottle of fizz in the fridge for when we get back. Thought we’d need it.”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“What? The mild drink problem or the disdain for boring people?”

“Mild? I’ve seen how much you swallow on a school night.”

“Impress my pals and I’ll swallow more than a bottle of prosecco.”

“You mean, you’re actually going to shove the whole bottle down your neck? Now that, I need to see.”

You and Roger sat side by side as your friends grilled you. It felt like you were on trial. They asked him everything. Why he got divorced. Why he was on Tinder. Why you. And then. The question of your thirteen year age gap came up.

It was Grace. The gossip. She leaned over the table, as far as she could, with eyes bulging out of her head. Her stubby fingers gripped her glass of gin and tonic. 

“So, he’s so much older than you,” she guffawed, darting her eyes between you and Roger. “Bet it turns him on.”

Roger’s fingers found their way to your lap, and tangled with your own, locking your hands together. “Actually,” Roger began, glancing at you, “I think she’s lovely. She could be twenty-four or eighty-four and I’d still adore her.” When he finished that sentence, he looked so proud of himself – flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. He gave your hand another squeeze.

But that wasn’t the answer Grace the Gossip was looking for. “Oh, come on! I’ve heard you like shagging younger women.” Then she turned her attention to you, jabbing her finger at you. “And don’t pretend you don’t like him because he’s famous and rich.”

“What are you?” Roger asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like one of those rats working for the red-tops. Are you?”

“Come on, that’s enough. Both of you,” Jade said, trying to mediate.

“No, I want to hear Grace’s answer, actually,” you piped up. You and Roger exchanged smug looks, while Grace rolled her eyes.

She sighed. “I’m curious. There are plenty of men out there your age. And there are plenty of girls out there Roger’s age. Thirteen years is a lot.”

You sensed Roger slumping in his chair beside you; you felt his disappointment.

“I don’t fucking know, Geraldine–”

“It’s Grace, actually.”

“I don’t give a fuck. We’re both bloody adults and as far as I’m concerned, your mate’s more mature than most people my age.” He looked at you, visibly annoyed. “Are we done here, can we go home?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you huffed, looking around at your friends. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves, by the way. All of you. You’re all coupled up and you constantly tell me that I should be too. And now I am–”

“It’s not that,” Lily – the mouthpiece – interrupted. “It’s him.”

“And that you met him on Tinder,” Jade added.

You regained your composure, painfully aware that your friends were beyond seeing sense. “And now that I am,” you seethed, “You don’t have it in you to be happy for me.”

“We are,” Cassie, the doormat, cooed.

“Is it because I’m not stupid enough to get myself pregnant within two weeks of meeting someone new?” you asked, glaring at Grace. “Or that I haven’t had to give up my career for a man?” you continued, shooting daggers at Cassie. “Or perhaps it’s because my boyfriend isn’t a fucking deadbeat?” you concluded, directing that remark at Lily and Jade.

Your friends looked at each other in stunned silence.

Lily slapped her hand on her husband’s. “He’s not a deadbeat. I mean he’s quiet, but at least I know when he gets bored, he’s sensible enough not to trade me in for a younger model.”

Cassie was next to refute your claim: “I quit my job by choice. He got a better job and he supports us both. I’m happy.”

James, her husband, nodded.

“Well, if you’d like to keep lying to yourselves, then I’m sorry but I’m out of here. I don’t have the patience for this,” you announced, throwing down you and Roger’s share of the bill, plus a tip. You got to your feet, stretching out your hand which Roger gladly took. “We’re going home.” You cast an eye over the stunned table. “And if any of you want to apologise, remember what you did wrong before you go bashing us. We’re happy. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. And if you were any kind of friends, you’d support that.”

Your friends said nothing as you and Roger stormed out of the restaurant at breakneck speed. But when the pair of you got to the front door, Roger mumbled something, staring straight on ahead.

You didn’t quite catch it, so you leaned in closer to him. “What was that, Roggie?”

“You were amazing,” he repeated with a faint simper on his lips.

You gave his hand another fleeting squeeze, feeling a swell of pride in your chest. “So were you.”

When you were safely inside Roger’s car, you both sank with relief. “That was a nightmare, wasn’t it?” Roger said.

“Yup.”

“Suppose that’ll end up in The Sun?”

You turned in your seat to face him, wearing a serious expression. “Hope not.”

“You never know who to trust,” he warned, speeding off in the direction of home.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the journey back. Choosing to drown out the thought of your horrible evening, he turned his playlist up. The one he made for you. And belted no less than five love songs at you on the journey.

It earned a few cautious laughs from you, too. But the seed of doubt grew in your mind. What if you couldn’t trust your friends anymore?

The pensive silence stuck around like a bad smell well until you arrived home. You stood in the hall with your back to Roger as he shuffled your coat off your body and hung it up.

Then his arms snaked around your waist, his chin propped on your shoulder. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Kitten. Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

You exhaled, turning towards him. Your eyes had gone glassy and your lips curved into a frown. “It’s been a bad night, hasn’t it?” you lamented. 

“It’s not gone that badly,” Roger reasoned.

“Yeah, but what if they hate me now?”

“They can’t possibly hate you.”

“Why?”

“Because… it’s…” Roger paused, shrugging, “Illegal?”

You rolled your eyes and stormed into the kitchen in search of something to take the edge off. “That’s the best you can do?” you asked opening the fridge and plucking out the bottle.

“You know what I mean,” Roger said, trailing behind you. “You’re lovely. And an amazing friend. They should be lucky to have you. And if they can’t see that, then I’m sorry, but they were never your friends to begin with.”

You grimaced, slapping the bottle down on the countertop. A deluge of sadness dropped on to your body like a lead balloon. “I’m twenty-four and I’m back at square one when it comes to friends,” you squeaked, leaning against the counter. The tears weren’t far off; you could feel the warmth burning your eyes. Not wanting Roger to see you in this state again, you bowed your head. Of course, it made the tears fall faster. “This is fucking awful.”

“Hey,” he said in a low, warm voice. “You’ve still got years to meet new people. And makeup with everyone else. You’ve got me. And Freddie was saying the other day, he’d love to meet you. He knows a few characters. You’re only twenty-four. It doesn’t matter.”

But it did.

Roger wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head against your shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure they’ll come round.”

Your whole body shook with grief as Roger held you close. “It feels like it is.”

The following day, you woke up to the sound of the intercom ripping through your empty flat. Your eyes shot open as you turned over, clawing at the empty space in your bed in search of Roger.

You heaved yourself on to your feet and padded through to the door, picking up the receiver. “Hello?” you spat.

“Hello, my love,” a sort of familiar voice beamed. “Is that Roger’s lovely girlfriend there?”

Your stomach sank. Surely Roger wasn’t behind all of this?

“Well, is it?” he pressed.

“Uh, yeah. Come on up.” You smacked the receiver down and sped through to your bedroom, slipping into more modest attire. With any luck, you thought, you might be able to brush your teeth before your guest arrived. But you were wrong.

Three loud knocks boomed into your home as you pulled on one of Roger’s shirts, earning a pained sigh from you.

And then another three while you hurried back to answer the door.

“Alright, alright! Hold your bloody horses,” you hissed. When you flung open the door, you found Freddie standing in the hall. He looked inconspicuous in his leather jacket and ripped up jeans, aside from the bottle of Moët he clutched. “Christ, it’s ten in the morning,” you remarked.

“I know,” he grinned, looking pleased with himself. “Aren’t you going to let me in, dear? This bottle’s getting warm and we can’t have that!”

You shuffled aside, allowing Freddie to barge in. “Make yourself at home,” you hummed, throwing your arm out in the general direction of your humble abode.

Freddie sashayed through to the kitchen like a wrecking ball through your lazy Sunday morning. “Roger says you were very down last night.”

“Oh, did he now,” you shrugged, following him. “Suppose he sent you here to make me feel better, then?”

He threw himself into a chair at your kitchen table. “No,” he began, popping open the champagne. “I’m here to talk to you about planning a party, my dear.” He held up the bottle, silently asking for glasses.

“A party?” You threw open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice; you couldn’t stomach straight champagne this early in the morning. “What kind of party?”

“Oh, I love mimosas,” he smirked. “Get some glasses and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Already ahead of you.” You opened the cupboard where all the glasses went to die and pulled out two mismatched flutes. You slid them across the table towards Freddie – along with the orange juice – and he got pouring the drinks.

“Well,” he began, placing your glass in front of you. “I’m sure you know, it’s Roger’s birthday next week?” It was more of a question than an explanation.

You nodded in response.

“Well, I thought it might be a nice idea, as one of Roger’s best friends, and you, as Roger’s very beautiful lady friend, to organise a party for him. It’d be nice to celebrate, and it’d be lovely for you to meet everyone. How does that sound?” Freddie asked with a manic look in his eyes.

You knocked back your mimosa in one swift gulp and sighed. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Freddie excitedly clapped his hands together. “Excellent! I was hoping we could have it at my house. I have a few ideas for the cake, too! And invites! Yes, I’ve drawn these up,” Freddie rambled, scooting over towards you and whipping out his phone to show you some crisp, white invites with gold borders and greenery around the edges. “What do you think?”

“They’re beautiful!” you smiled. “I’m not sure they’re very Roger, though.”

A mischievous smirk emerged from beneath his moustache. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s make it filthy.”

[Part 8]

“I don’t see why we can’t stay at home and celebrate with a take away,” Roger grumbled, staring out of the window of the car.

“I  thought it’d be nice to get a bite to eat somewhere nice,” you explained, brushing your fingers against his thigh.

The sweltering July evening seemed never-ending and the sun still hung high, even though the clock approached nine.

It was weather for light linen shirts and cropped jeans and sunglasses, hair that smelled like the beach and tanned skin on display. It suited Roger down to a tee, you thought, as your eyes wandered. He scratched at the undersides of his arms, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Then, slipping his hand beneath his shirt collar, he sighed as he rubbed his aching shoulders. “But I love your cooking.”

“Would it stun you to know that I’m sick of cooking?”

Roger’s lips curled into a smile as he shook his head. “But it’s my birthday. It’s as good as steak and blowjob day.”

“Well, you can eat some nice steak tonight and I’ll give you a blowie later. How does that sound?”

“Oh, alright!”

The pair of you went back to absentmindedly staring out the windows, every now and again, reaching across the seat to touch hands. The nerves in your stomach brewed, wondering what he would make of the party you and Freddie planned. 

“Hang on?” Roger said, edging forward in his seat as he peered out the window. “Where are we going again?”

“For dinner, Roggie,” you stated. “Why?”

“Why are we going to Freddie’s?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Fred recently.”

“And what of it?”

“You’ve been planning something, haven’t you?” Roger asked, his voice streaked with giddiness.

“No!”

“Why are we pulling up in front of Fred’s house then?”

“We’re going to pop in and see him so he can wish you a happy birthday.”

“Oh great!” Roger tutted mockingly. “That’s half the night wasted then. No blowjobs for me.”

“Don’t be like that,” you scolded. You reached into your bag and handed the fare to the driver, then you both stepped out on to the street outside Garden Lodge.

“This better be quick! I’m fucking starving,” Roger warned, rubbing his tummy.

You knew how grumpy he could be when he was in the throes of hunger and you hoped the catering and free booze would be enough to sustain him through the night. But there was one thing you were certain of: Roger loved a good party. “Come on,” you urged, grabbing his hand and tugging him in the direction of the large wooden door that insulated the mansion within. You jabbed your finger against the intercom. “Fred? We’re here!”

Fred’s laughter came over the intercom, and then he finally spoke. “Come in, darlings!”

You and Roger exchanged puzzled looks at how jovial he sounded, but then you shrugged and pushed open the gate.

“SURPRISE!”

The garden was packed with anyone who was anyone in the music business. Producers, musicians, even actors and actresses, and models, too. They had all assembled to celebrate Roger’s birthday. You were certain Roger hadn’t even met half of the guests – most of them looked like Freddie’s circle.

Roger laughed nervously as he took in the sight of the garden, decked out with strings of twinkling gold lights and picnic benches. And then, his face settled into a look of wonder, eyeing the waitresses in knee high boots and leather bikinis, doling out canapés. One tall and stony looking blonde thrust flutes of champagne into your hands, and a friendlier flame-haired floozy moseyed up to you and Roger, popping tiny cherry pies into your mouths. “Good?” she purred, relishing how flustered Roger became.

Roger mumbled enthusiastically, catching crumbs that tumbled from his mouth. He had turned a delightful shade of pink as he took in his surroundings. He shuffled up the garden path towards a pair of oversized inflatable legs, spread eagled. Between them, in lieu of the female anatomy, was the door to Freddie’s house. Roger marvelled at them, open mouthed.

From the crowd, ever the perfect hostess, Freddie emerged with a cake. You and him had spent days in bakeries all over London, sampling their wares. But you had finally decided on one. Two glorious mounds of chocolate cake, moulded into an ample bosom, complete with a set of erect, rosebud nipples. The number 38 blazed away beside it. The throng surrounding Roger erupted into a bout of ‘happy birthday.’

Roger looked at you, bewildered and wondering what part you played in this, but you nodded towards his cake.

Roger was always the life and soul of the party, and it didn’t take him long to bust a few moves that you feared might seriously injure him. After all, 38 was two years shy of forty. And that would be really old.

You admired him from one of the picnic benches, as you drained another glass of champagne. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and you felt completely at home and relaxed on the sidelines. Until Freddie burst into view, dragging none other than Elton John with him.

“My dear, there’s someone I need you to meet!” he beamed, throwing a rather drunk Elton down opposite you. “This is Elton!”

Elton waved and nodded, giving you a quiet, “Hi.”

“Elton, this is Roger’s girlfriend, isn’t she a peach?”

“She’s lovely, yeah!”

“I’m going to leave you two to get acquainted,” Freddie cooed, wandering off to pester someone else.

Unsure of what to say to Elton, you searched your brain for something, anything, to make inroads into a conversation with him. “So,” you began, dragging out that vowel. “How do you know Fred?”

“Me and Fred go way back! All the way to the nineties, would you believe? Back when I was practically bald. You probably don’t remember that, though,” he slurred. “How old are you again?”

“Twenty-four,” you mumbled.

Elton’s eyes bulged. “I knew Roger liked them young, but you’re half his bloody age! I heard you met on Tinder, too? Bold move on Roger’s part!”

“Yeah, he was telling me about some of the experiences he’d had before he met me,” you laughed. “Must’ve been desperate. Hence why he set the bar this low.”

“Oh not at all,” Elton said, flapping his hands. “It’s  nice to see him with a girl who doesn’t look like she’s in it for the money. God knows, that’s all Roger’s got going for him.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know about that.” You glanced over at Freddie and Roger, who were huddled in a corner of the garden, blathering away at each other like a pair of gossiping old biddies. You loved the way Roger laughed with his entire body when Freddie presumably told him a dirty joke and the way Freddie’s eyes bulged when he embellished his stories with theatrical action. “He’s kind and does everything he can to drag me out of my shell. And he doesn’t seem to mind that my friends hate him or that the world feels like we shouldn’t be together. He’s always so positive. I love that.”

“So you’re smitten, then?” Elton said, leaning in. “And you’re serious?”

Your cheeks burned as an awkward smile cracked over your features. “I think so,” you said, nodding with youthful enthusiasm.

“Well, you’re absolutely lovely,” Elton said, grabbing your hands and speaking to you with the wisdom of an old babushka. “I hope this works. Because you clearly make each other happy. And don’t let anyone or anything, take that away from you. Fred and I know what it’s like, having everyone out to get you.”

On the other side of the garden, Roger was busy gushing to Freddie about his party. He had already sunk a bottle of champagne all to himself, and, having loosened up, he was prepared to tell anyone who would listen how glad he was to be spending his thirty-eighth birthday, surrounded ‘by people he cared about.’

“This is so different from last year,” he smiled, looking out at the partygoers. “And it’s the first birthday in a while that I’ve actually been happy. Remember how Dom and I used argue at these things?” He turned to Freddie, looking bleary eyed. “I  love her, Fred. I fucking love her.”

“I know you do,” Freddie said, linking his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “This was all her idea, you know? The legs and everything. I think she knows you better than I do!”

He shook his head, wearing a cute, dumb expression. “I think she gets me. And to think she thought she wouldn’t be enough for me.”

“Nonsense!” Freddie exclaimed, slapping Roger’s arm in a ‘fuck off’ kind of way. “Why ever would that beautiful thing think that?!”

“She was nervous because she’d never really seriously dated anyone before. And then I went and told her how many women I’d slept with. And she got cold feet.”

“Did you tell her how many men you’ve shagged too?”

“Fuck off,” Roger said bashfully. “I mean it, though. I could definitely see myself really making a go of it with her.”

“She loves you very much,” Freddie explained, bolstering his friend. “She told me you make her a nice breakfast every day before she goes to work and that you have her lunch packed for her. Sounds like you bloody well do everything for her. Spoilt little thing.”

“I just worry about her,” Roger admitted, crossing his arms. “Sometimes, when you look at someone, do you ever  see that tiny flicker of sadness there in their eyes? And then you promise yourself, you’ll never allow it to really get a grip on them? Because I see that all the time. I want to look after her. I never ever felt that way about Dominique.”

Freddie glanced at his best friend. “You did all those years ago. I remember you used to make any excuse to see her. Hell, you even sprawled yourself across her desk in Richard’s office one Monday morning, a big fucking rose between your teeth.”

“But this is different.”

“How?”

“I thought I wanted sex and filth and something to take my mind off the whole bloody thing. All that excitement you get when you first meet someone and you fall for them. But I don’t. I don’t have that with her,” he slurred, gluing his eyes to you and only you.

“What do you have? A sore arse? I bet she’s good with a strap.”

“No.” Roger glared at Freddie. “I have this overwhelming need to protect her, like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Does she know that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well you should tell her before you go to Montreux.”

Roger’s eyes widened. “Fuck. That’s soon, isn’t it? Why – has she told you anything?”

Freddie shrugged. “It’s not really my place to say.”

“But she did tell you something…”

“Yes and no.”

“What is it then?”

“I think she’s worried it might be a bit too soon for you to be apart.”

“And she told you that, did she?” he asked with a pout. 

“Not in so many words. But yes.”

“Do you think I should invite her out?” he asked, turning his head to look at Freddie again. “To Montreux?”

Freddie’s eyes widened as soon as he heard Roger’s plan. “That’s a bloody wonderful idea! I’m planning on bringing my new man, Jim out with me. He could probably do with the company when I’m holed up in the studio with you.”

“You think so?” Roger asked, patting his hand on Freddie’s shoulder.

“I think you should go and ask her now!”

Roger stood up straight and puffed out his chest like a great, brave emperor penguin, ready to journey across a continent. “I think I will!”

“Go get her, tiger!” Freddie called, sending all eyes at the party on to Roger as he staggered up the garden.

You were still deep in conversation with Elton, but silence fell as Roger approached.

“Does he look drunk to you?” Elton asked.

“He looks fucking wasted.”

Roger wore that dreamy look in his eye that could make you do anything, even if he was three sheets to the wind. When he arrived at the table, he almost fell over as he leaned forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Hello, birthday boy!” you cooed. “I see you’re having a good night!”

“Elton, my man!” Roger exclaimed making finger guns at him. “I’m gonna need some alone time with my woman. Can I steal her away?” he slurred.

“Excuse me?” you blinked. “Your woman?”

Roger flung himself down beside you and put his arm around you. “Sorry. What I meant to say is, I’d like some alone time with this absolutely delectable creature, where I shall seek to woo her with my potent, sexual allure,” he elaborated, dragging his palm down his exposed torso.

You gave Roger a glare that told him he was done for, and, not wanting to attract further attention, took his hand. You led him up between the pair of giant inflatable legs, through the vagina, and into Freddie’s kitchen. Much to your annoyance, there was a crowd of kitchen dwellers dotted around the room, so you continued your journey, further into Freddie’s not-so-humble abode. “Come on,” you said, pulling Roger up the spiral staircase in the hall. “There’s bound to be a room up here for us.”

“Oh, we’re going upstairs,” he purred, giving his eyebrows a knowing wiggle. “I know what that means.”

You continued to lead him by the hand through the tastefully decorated hallway, until you reached what Freddie liked to call the ‘Pink Room.’ You and Roger entered and stood in silence in the middle of the room, gawking at each other.

Roger obviously found the situation hilarious as he searched for something to focus on to take his mind off the fit of giggles that simmered away under his dishevelled exterior. His shoulders bobbed every now and again when a small laugh escaped.

“What’s so funny, Roggie?”

“It’s nothing, sorry.”

You crossed your arms and tilted your head, gauging how drunk your boyfriend was. “It’s something.”

“No, I’m thinking about how we’re gonna shag in Fred’s house.”

“We’re not going to shag in Freddie’s house, Roggie. At least not until you’ve sobered up and told me what you wanted to tell me in the garden.”

Roger’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as soon as he remembered why he wanted to get you alone. Then he nodded. He shuffled his feet as he looked at the floor to pluck the words out of his champagne-addled brain. “Fred and I were talking,” he began.

“Uh huh?” you urged him on, crossing your arms. 

“And we were talking…” He continued, his eyes rolling up in his head as he still wore that boyish, naughty expression.

“You were talking and…”

“Well, all the other guys are bringing their girlfriends, and Freddie’s got his new boyfriend and I was wondering, if…”

Unable to contain your annoyance for Roger’s penchant for trailing off mid sentence, you erupted: “For goodness sake, Roger, spit it out!”

Roger puffed out his cheeks at your sudden outburst and exhaled. “Do you want to come to Montreux with us?”

Roger’s proposal came as such a shock to you that you had to stumble around to find a place to sit. Eventually, you found a dusty pink chaise longue that overlooked the garden and flopped on top of it. “Jesus,” you muttered.

Roger dropped to his knees and shuffled over to you, pouting and silently attempting to convince you that this was a good idea for both of you.

“How long do you want me out there for?”

“However long you’d like. Montreux’s really beautiful. We could maybe even stay there?” Roger begged, clasping your hand in his. Shimmering gold flecks from the lights in the garden danced in his tired eyes. “I’d love it if you came with me.”

“It’s a big ask,” you sighed, leaning your forehead against his. “I’ve got work to think about. I can’t just quit. I don’t want to be like my friends.”

“I’ll look after you, though. And you’ve got all of us. We’re a family.”

“I don’t know, Roger,” you admitted. “I think I’m gonna need some time to think about this. I can’t get up and leave. It’s not that easy.”

Roger’s entire body deflated right in front of you, his disappointment palpable as he slouched. “Take as long as you need, Kitten,” he said. His tone became measured and calm now; the sparkle and optimism had disappeared. “Even if you’re able to come out  for a day or two, it’d be better than nothing. I’m gonna miss looking after you when I’m out there.”

“I’ll let you know how I feel in the morning. More importantly, how are you feeling?”

“I’m a bit drunk,” Roger spluttered. “But I’ve enjoyed myself.”

“You’ve had a good birthday?”

He nodded with enthusiasm. “Best birthday in years. And I’ve got you to thank for that,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You make me so fucking happy.”

The pair of you scrambled to your feet, your arms enveloping his body. Your head rested against his chest, so close you could hear his heart racing and his lungs slowly sucking in air as you danced together in the window of the Pink Room, and gazed down at the party below. “I love you, Roggie,” you whispered, burying your nose against his shirt to inhale his scent. 

“I love you too, Kitten.”

“How about we head home? Hm?” you asked looking up at him.

He swept the hair out of your face with a contented, heavy lidded smile. “That’s a fantastic idea,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ll even bring you a nice breakfast in bed to thank you for this in the morning.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The following morning, you felt the bed dip beside you and the soft, warm sound of Roger’s voice. Bliss. Turning on to your back, you stretched letting all the tensed muscles in your body unfurl and your bones crack back into place with a groan. “Morning, Roggie,” you purred with your eyes still closed.

“Morning, Kitten,” he said. 

You could see the smile behind his words inside your mind. And you could also smell bacon. Your eyes flicked open to find him wafting a bacon roll right under your nose.

“Knew that would wake you up in no time,” he grinned, pulling the duvet over both of your bodies. “I’ve made you some tea, too.”

You grabbed the cup from Roger’s hands and took a swig like it was the holy grail. Your mouth was so dry from all the alcohol the night before that you almost finished the cup in one big gulp. “Thank you,” you sighed, sitting the cup down on your nightstand. Then you went back to the most important meal of the day.

Roger took small bites of his own, in between stroking your hair and admiring you in the golden rays cracking through the blinds. “Did you sleep well, Kitten?” he asked.

You gave a contented groan. “Like a log – how about you?” you asked, curling yourself against his body. “Hungover?”

“No,” he mused, “I feel good.”

“You look tired.”

“I am a bit, but that’s nothing a little siesta can’t fix,” he sighed.

But there was something off. You could tell Roger was holding something back; his body was tense and he had a habit of moving his lips to start a sentence with no sound coming from them when he was too apprehensive about asking you something. Then you remembered his proposition from the night before.

“About last night–” you both began in unison.

“You first,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically coy.

“No, no… you asked the question.”

Roger sucked his lips together, and stayed silent for a moment. Then the lightbulb pinged above his head. “I know I asked you to come over to Montreux, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure to go. You’ve got a life here. You can’t abandon that. I was a bit drunk and over excited.”

“It’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. “I  need to see how many holidays I can realistically take off work this summer.”

Roger nodded. “Ok. I’m not going to pester you about it,  have a think. It might do you the world of good to go out there.”

You gave a haughty laugh, still feeling raw from the invasion of your privacy back in Ibiza. “What like it did when we spent that weekend at the villa?” you asked.

Roger’s features fell. “I’m trying to do what’s best for us. Montreux’s not like Ibiza at all. Fuck, no one even knows where Montreux is. No one pesters us there. Not even Freddie.” He sounded hurt. “Please think about it.”

And then your phone rang. Convenient timing, if only to prevent an argument. You fumbled around on your nightstand for your phone and looked at the screen. It was Jade. “What the fuck does she want?” you mumbled to yourself.

“Who?” Roger asked, peering over your shoulder. Then he scowled in disgust. “Her?”

“Should I answer it?” you asked, glancing up at Roger.

“It’s up to you.”

You answered the call, putting Jade on speaker for Roger to hear. “What do you want?”

“Please don’t read The Sun today,” Jade said, sounding panicked.

Roger sat upright, looking puzzled.

“Why?” you asked, feeling a pit of dread growing larger and larger with every passing second. “What have they done now?”

“Just don’t read it, please.” She repeated her plea with more desperation. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? What for? What have you done?”

Roger tapped away on his own phone and then showed you the screen. On the homepage of The Sun’s website, there were a series of articles about you and Roger. One about Charlotte and Lewis. Blurry phone photos of Roger leading you out of La Rouvenaz after your date from hell. A photo of Roger’s ex wife, with the headline: “Dominique Taylor: My Side of the Story.” And another headline. “Pals Spill the Beans on Queen Drummer’s New Squeeze.”

By the time you had finished reading everything on the page, you could hear Jade whimpering on the other end of the line.

“You fucking bitch,” Roger hissed. “You snake. How much did they pay you?”

“Please,” Jade cried. “I’m so sorry. They got it out of me without me knowing I–”

“I want to know how much they paid you!”

“Ten grand.”

Too stunned to speak, Roger verbalised exactly what was on the tip of your tongue. “Ten grand? Is that how much your best mate’s worth?”

“If I could  come over and explain, I could make things–”

Without saying a word, you hung up. Still in a state of shock, you took Roger’s phone and began at the very top of the page, scanning every single article for opinions on everything from how much you weighed to what you wore. All of your friends had something to say. Some of them even surrendered photos of you from your school days, back when the gang was much more close knit – before life got in the way of your friendships. You were too exhausted to shed tears. Too humiliated to want to set foot in the office again. You turned to Roger, whose eyes had clouded over as he seethed. “Montreux doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all,” you said.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“I think you’re probably the only person that actually cares about me at this point.”

“I hope I’m worth it.”

Realising what was at stake, you spent the rest of your Sunday preparing yourself for Monday. You drafted your letter of resignation, organised boxes to empty the contents of your desk into, and you had packed a suitcase with  enough to get by in Montreux until you found your feet. 

The next morning, you and Roger sat in his car outside your office building in silence.

“Just remember, I’m out here,” Roger said quietly, stroking circles above your knee.

You took a series of deep breaths, doubting your ability to march into the office and drop the letter on your boss’ desk. “All I need to do, is give Stephen the letter, clear my desk and then we can go.” You nodded, walking yourself through the perfectly plotted road map in your brain. “What if someone stops me?” you groaned, throwing your head back against the headrest. “I don’t know if I could face the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Just tell them it’s a family emergency and that you don’t want to deal with it right now.”

“But you’re better at these things than I am. You only have to breathe their air and people like you.”

“What do you care if those idiots like you?” he snorted. Then he grabbed your shoulders, ready for another one of his world class pep talks. “You’re never going to see them again. And if they talk to the papers, you’re not going to be in the bloody country to read it. You’re gonna be chilling on a lakeside promenade, with a cocktail in your hand, enjoying night after night of boring missionary sex with me, your adoring and very rich boyfriend. You’re better than that fucking dump behind you and you know it!”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you reluctantly agreed. Staring down that the carefully typed and labelled letter in your hands, you huffed. “Guess I’m gonna have to do this now, before everyone else arrives.”

“You’ve got…” Roger paused, looking at his watch. “Five minutes, to complete your mission, Agent Kitten. Good luck.”

You chuckled and grabbed the boxes in the footwell. 

The walk into your poky marketing agency went well. Your legs managed to function and your head stayed high as you sauntered through the doors one final time. The nerves dissipated as you entered the office, weaving your way through the gigantic fishbowl, looking at all the soulless drones, sitting at their desks, tapping away at their keyboards on the company’s next big brand project. And you knew, in that moment, how much you hated it. 

That swell of hatred spurred you on as you stopped by your desk to dump the boxes. Of course, Steph and Cheryl looked up from their computer screens with raised eyebrows.

“What are those for?” Steph asked.

“Nothing,” you spat, turning on your heel towards your boss’ office.

He sat in a glass room at the far end of the main office. He loved to look out on his sea of minions and watch them waste their lives while he collected a vastly overinflated salary that said more about his greed than his talent or work ethic.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you realised his office was empty. You were able to slip inside his glass tank and pop the envelope on his desk, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders once and for all.

Mission accomplished.

Time to clear your desk.

Like a panther on a hunt, you slunk back to your desk undetected, and cleared your personal belongings away, erasing the two years of your life you had spent at this very spot. You removed the photos of your friends from the grey partition boards, and ripped them up. You safely stowed your collection of cacti and succulents in one box. Then you moved on to your drawers; rifling through them for the essentials.

It astounded you how much crap you accumulated in two years. But then, you couldn’t remember the last time you tossed anything out. There were spare packets of star shaped confetti from your first Christmas party, birthday cards, five half empty jars of instant coffee, not to mention a stack of unfinished notebooks and pens in abundance. Knowing where your real priorities lay, you scooped up the bundle of notebooks and pens and dumped them alongside your plants.

You eyed your prized possessions with overwhelming satisfaction. Standing there with your hands on your hips, you realised that you managed this with no resistance from your co-workers. Until Steph lingered beside you.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked, jabbing her finger painfully into your arm. “You’re leaving and you didn’t tell us! Did you get the sack?” she prodded.

“No, it’s an urgent family thing abroad that I need to get to. I don’t now when I’ll be back,” you bumbled, trying to remember the spiel Roger taught you, for use in emergencies. 

“Won’t you have time for drinks?” Cheryl piped up, peering over the partition.

“I’m afraid not,” you said, shaking your head in an attempt to sound disappointed. Inside you were elated. “I need to be at the airport in an hour. Flight takes off soon.” And with that, you grabbed your belongings and headed for the door as fast as your legs could carry you.

But then, your boss slipped through, his face falling when he saw the box in your arms. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back to your desk, I haven’t given you permission to leave.”

You barged past him. His mistake for holding to door open for you, you thought. You could still hear him bellowing down the corridor as you headed for the exit. “Fuck you, Stephen!” you roared, throwing up the middle finger behind you.

Roger was waiting for you as you practically ran to his car. He stood, leaning against it. Sunglasses on, sleeves rolled up, pushing his thick, messy mane out of his face. “How’d it go, Kitten?” he asked, taking the box from you and looking inside at your loot.

“It was amazing,” you wheezed, realising how cathartic the experience was for you. “Threw my boss the middle finger as I left. It felt so fucking good. Better than sex. Better than driving one of your cars. I can’t even describe it,” you wittered as Roger put your box in the boot.

He closed it and turned to you, a smile trying to burst from his lips. “I’m really fucking proud of you.”

“So, now we go to the airport?” you asked, pressing your toe into the pavement.

“To the airport,” Roger grinned, getting back into the car.

“I’ve always wondered,” you pondered as the car hurtled down the motorway, “what happens when you leave the car at the airport?”

“I’m not leaving the car at the airport. Some poor intern at the label is going to come and collect it, and they’re going to put it into storage for me for when I make my return. Whenever that’ll be.”

“Right,” you sighed, remembering that you had a flat to empty. “And what about my place?”

“That’s easy. We can get some removal men in when we get to Montreux and they’ll put all your stuff into storage with my car. For when you make your return!” he explained excitedly. “Whenever that’ll be!”

“Fuck. We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” you sighed.

“Yeah!” Roger grinned, his eyebrows peeking out from the rims of his shades. “We really are!”

Just like the first time you and Roger boarded a plane together, your stomach stretched itself tight with apprehension. But that wasn’t to say you didn’t feel like you were making the right choice. Roger made you happy, you thought as he led you across the tarmac towards the small private plane. When you got inside, you realised it was exactly the same one as before and again, you took care not to touch anything, for fear that some other couple had done exactly what you and Roger had done between your trip to Ibiza and now. 

You and Roger plonked yourselves down next to each other on the leather sofa as stewardesses flocked to you, offering canapés and flutes of champagne. Something to make the flight to Geneva go in  a  bit faster.

The plane took off, and the pair of you watched like excited children as clouds shrouded the plane, and then dissipated just as fast, leaving you soaring through the air, high above home and not knowing when you’ll ever return.

“Should we put on some music?” Roger murmured, twirling stands of your hair around his fingers. “Spice things up a bit?”

“What like last time?”

He grinned, looking utterly irresistible with his half-buttoned shirt and his dark sunglasses. “Exactly like last time. But better.”

You watched from the sofa as Roger got to his feet and wandered over to the stereo.

“Taylor Swift?”

“Nah.”

“Springsteen?”

“We always listen to Springsteen.”

“I know,” Roger giggled, waggling his finger in the air. “I’ve got just the song for this occasion.” 

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to hit play on his phone.

The first few bars of ‘Danger Zone,’ boomed through the speakers, sending you into a fit of giggles. But nothing could prepare you for what came next as Roger moved towards you, swaying every part of his body to the beat.

“What are you doing?” you laughed.

“Just sit back, relax,” Roger said, turning away from you. He batted his hips from side to side, bending over to give you an unrestricted view of his bottom as he wiggled and writhed. “And enjoy the view.”

>>NEXT>>

[cyborgsquirrel]

Sanctuary: Chapter 19

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters

Tuesday, 5th October 1971, 4:30 pm

Remus left the hospital wing and headed straight for Gryffindor tower. He was still a little sore from his transformation, but there was no way he was going to admit that to Madam Pomfrey. Knowing her, she would keep him in for an extra night, and he wanted to see his friends too much for that. He had information they needed to know. 

Before leaving, though, he had asked her about the mystery of his full-moon symptoms starting so much earlier than normal, and she had put it down to how much he was using his magic every day. It was nice to have an answer, but, on this occasion, he hoped she was wrong. If she was right, it meant three full days of pain every month instead of one. Although, when he really thought about it, he had to admit, if he were forced to choose between Hogwarts and less pain, he would choose Hogwarts. Even if it meant pain all day every day, he would choose Hogwarts.

He clambered through the portrait hole, dashed across the common room (as much as he could dash with his aching joints, other people would probably call it a meander), and up the stairs to the dorm.

He burst into the room with an excited, ‘Guys, I’ve figured it out!’ kicking the door closed behind him, crossing the room and dropping his bag on his bed.

‘Figured what out?’ James asked, leaping off his bed and jumping around, apparently caught up in the excitement.

‘Hello, Remus. And how are you feeling?’ Sirius asked from where he was lounging on his bed and writing in his journal.

Remus turned to face Sirius. ‘I’m all better now, thank you. Nothing to worry about.’ He turned back to James, who was still bouncing on his toes waiting for the news. ‘I’ve figured out how to make everyone burp bubbles.’

‘Yes!’ James punched the air. ‘You are the best researcher a team of magical mischief-makers could ever ask for! How do we do it?’

Remus smiled. He had been hoping the news would be sufficient distraction to keep them from asking questions about his hospital stay. It looked like it was working.

‘The belch powder uses delayed transfiguration, like on the robes the Marauder did. So all we have to do is add an extra layer and set it to be triggered two seconds after the first layer.’

‘And you know how to do that?’ Peter asked.

‘Yes, it’s really easy. I can show you.’

Sirius closed his journal and placed it gently on the bed next to him, stood up in a single, graceful movement and sauntered over to him. ‘Hmm,’ he said, looking Remus right in the eyes. ‘I think I know your secret.’

Remus’ blood went cold.

 -o-o-o-o-

 ‘Hmm, I think I know your secret.’

Remus’ face went white. Shit. That was an epically piss-poor choice of words. Sirius hurried to finish before Remus did something ridiculously stupid, like outing himself by shouting, “I’m not a werewolf.”

‘You’re the Hogwarts Marauder,’ he said, pointing at him.

‘What?’ James said.

Sirius turned to James to explain his theory. And to take the attention off of Remus, who seemed to be struggling to catch his breath. ‘He has regular access to the laundry,’ he said, ticking each point off on his fingers. ‘He has apparently used delayed transfiguration before because he knows it’s “easy.” And he somehow knows the Marauder used delayed transfiguration to do the robe trick. He is amazingly good at transfiguration, as if he’s had lots of extra practice. And I’m pretty sure he was lying when he said he’d never altered a spell before. Therefore, I conclude, he is the Marauder.’

James’ eyes went wide, and he turned to Remus. ‘Is he right? Are you the Marauder?’

Remus seemed to have regained control of his lungs and he nodded. ‘Yeah. You got me, Sirius. It was me.’

‘That is so bloody brilliant!’ James said, returning to bouncing like an over-excited squirrel. ‘We can all be The Marauders! It’s much easier to say than magical mischief-makers. Oh, I wish we’d known before the niffler hunt. We could have used it for our team name.’

‘Breathe, James,’ Sirius said, laughing.

‘That was awesome, Remus. I really liked the lion,’ Peter said.

‘Thanks, Pete. I can make you another one if you like?’

Peter grinned. ‘Yes, please!’

James suddenly stopped bouncing. ‘If we’re going to be a club, we need rules and stuff.’

Remus frowned. ‘We’re a club now?’

‘Hell yeah, we’re a club!’ Sirius said.

James ran over to his trunk and pulled out another brand new notebook with a beautiful red dragon-hide cover, before sitting at the head of his bed cross-legged and patting the mattress in front of him. ‘Come on.’

Sirius and Peter were quick to pile on, but Remus hesitated. Sirius shuffled further over to make more room for him. ‘Come on, mate. You’re safe with us.’

Remus climbed onto the bed with extreme caution, sitting himself right on the edge. He was in danger of falling off, but Sirius didn’t want to push him. The full moon was only last night. Speaking of which…

‘Oh, if this is our first club meeting, then we should have chocolate,’ he said, before climbing carefully off the bed and going to his trunk to fetch the extra-large box of chocolate frogs he’d ordered ready for today. Fancy expensive chocolates were delicious, but right now Remus needed quantity, not quality, and he figured he’d be willing to eat more if they were cheap ones.

Sirius plonked the box in the middle of James’ bed and climbed back on.

James raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Are we ready now?’ 

‘Not quite,’ Sirius said. He ripped the box open, took out four chocolate frogs, throwing one to each of them and ripping the fourth open, before taking a bite. ‘Now we’re ready.’

James chuckled and shook his head. Ignoring his chocolate frog, he placed the notebook on top of the box in the middle of the bed. ‘This book comes with a built-in notice-me-not charm. If we all channel our magic into it and then activate the charm, we’ll be the only ones who see it.’

Sirius frowned at James. ‘Are you telling me you’ve had a way to pass notes in class without being seen this whole time and you never said?’

James gaped at him. ‘I never even thought of that.’

‘Idiot,’ Sirius said, cuffing James around the back of the head.

James scowled at him but didn’t argue. ‘Yeah, alright. Get your wands out then.’

They all took out their wands and channelled their magic into the notebook before James activated the charm. He opened the notebook to the first page and wrote  “The Marauders” across the top, followed by their names in a list.

‘We need to pick roles,’ James said. ‘I’m the ideas man, and Remus is obviously Chief of Research. Sirius?’

Sirius grinned. ‘I’m the charm.’

‘Why exactly do we need charm?’

‘To charm our way out of detention, of course. Minnie loves me.’

‘Hmm. We’ll come back to you. Peter?’

Peter shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m not really any good at anything.’

‘You’re great at potions. You’ve stopped me killing myself at least twice,’ Remus said.

‘And we’re all very grateful for that,’ Sirius said, nodding.

‘Chief Potioneer,’ James said, writing it down next to Peter’s name.

‘If Remus and Peter are both Chiefs, then we should be too,’ Sirius said. ‘You can be Chief Imaginator. And I’ll be Chief… Um.’

‘Artist?’ Remus suggested.

‘Excellent idea.’ James wrote both the titles next to their names and turned the page. He wrote Marauders Code along the top of the new page and looked back up.

‘Rules?’

Sirius grinned. ‘All feast days are Marauder celebrations and should be marked as such with Mischief.’

James pointed his quill at him. ‘Nice!’

‘All Marauder Mischief should be harmless and fun for everyone,’ Remus said before taking a large bite from his third chocolate frog. 

‘Unless we’re getting revenge,’ James said.

‘That’s not mischief,’ Remus said with a shrug. ‘It’s revenge.’

‘Good point.’ James wrote it down.

‘Marauders always keep each other’s secrets,’ Peter said.

‘But are not obligated to reveal their secrets before they’re ready,’ Sirius added quickly, making extra sure he wouldn’t look at Remus when he said it by reaching for another chocolate frog.

‘Rule, and amendment, accepted,’ James said.

‘Ooh, Marauders always come before girls,’ Sirius said.

James rolled his eyes. ‘Obviously.’ He wrote it down anyway.

‘A Marauder will always come to a fellow Marauder’s aid,’ Peter said.

‘That really goes without saying, doesn’t it?’ James said. ‘But I’ll write it down anyway.’

None of them could think of any other rules, so James put the notebook away, and they spent the rest of the evening stuffing their faces with chocolate and making more plans for Halloween. Remus was given a new research assignment, trying to find the recipe for the animation potion they had used before, and Sirius was delegated the task of drawing the most realistic picture of a bat he could manage. 

 -o-o-o-o-

 They didn’t find time to practise the mass delayed-transfiguration until Saturday. Remus had still been exhausted from the moon on Wednesday and spent the whole afternoon asleep, and it was far too much work to bother starting during a measly hour-long free period. Thursday evening, Remus and Sirius had Art Club, and Friday evening, they had all agreed they were too tired.

Remus sat his students down in a line on the floor and gave them each a bowl he’d borrowed from the kitchen that morning.

‘I want you to find your magical core and channel your magic into the bowl, just like we did with the notebook,’ he said.

He watched as they all placed their wand tips on their bowls and closed their eyes, and he knew it was working when the hairs on his arms stood on end. 

‘Good. Now’—he handed each of them a chocolate frog wrapper he had saved for the lesson—‘I want you to turn your wrapper pink.’

They frowned at him but did as they were told.

‘What was the point in that?’ James asked. ‘We’ve been able to do that for weeks.’

‘Because you have to do what you just did at the same time as channelling your magic and speaking the incantations for the delayed transfiguration, the timing charm and my combining spell.’

‘I thought you said it was easy,’ Sirius said.

Remus shrugged. ‘It is. You just have to focus.’

‘I can’t focus on that many things at once. I can barely focus on one thing.’

‘I found it easiest if you start channelling first, before focusing on your target and intent. Once you have your magic flowing, it’s fairly easy to turn your attention to something else while it continues in the background. We can work on adding the incantations when you get the hang of the first part.’

‘Okay,’ Sirius said, still sounding sceptical.

‘So, start channelling your magic. Once it’s flowing into the bowl, create your mental images of the pink wrapper and whatever colour you want to turn it. And if you think you’re ready, say the incantation for the delayed transfiguration.  Moratus Mutatio . You’ll need to channel for about twenty seconds to change the wrapper.’ 

‘Moratus Mutatio,’ they all repeated before beginning the task.

James was the first to open his eyes. He grinned at Remus but didn’t speak, obviously knowing better than to break his friends’ concentration. Peter was next. He looked around and seemed surprised to see Sirius was still trying. Looking at Remus, he raised his eyebrows, jerked his head towards Sirius and raised his fists in the air as if celebrating a victory. It took all of Remus’ self-control not to laugh. Sirius didn’t take much longer, opening his eyes about thirty seconds after Peter and glancing to the others. 

‘Dammit, I’m last,’ he said with a huff. 

‘It’s not a competition, Sirius,’ Remus said. 

‘Everything,’ Sirius said, ‘is a competition.’

Remus rolled his eyes. ‘If you say so. Let’s see if you all managed it, shall we? Drop your wrappers into your bowl.’

They did so and all three of them changed. James’ turned Gryffindor red, Peter’s turned white and Sirius’ turned blue with bright orange spots. 

‘No wonder you took longer,’ Remus said. ‘Why did you bother with spots?��

Sirius shrugged. ‘If you’re going to do something, might as well do it properly.’

Remus laughed. ‘Well, I guess if everything’s a competition you won this round. Ten points to Gryffindor.’

‘If only you  could  hand out points,’ James said. 

Remus was finding he quite enjoyed teaching. He got a thrill of excitement when they managed to achieve something under his guidance.

‘What’s next?’ Peter asked.

‘Next, you need to learn the timing charm. I tested it with defodio, but we probably shouldn’t damage anything in here. You all have the hang of Wingardium Leviosa, right?’ They all nodded, so Remus continued, ‘Great, I want you to cast the timing charm on your wrapper followed by wingardium leviosa. After you cast the levitation charm, you’ll need to move your wand in the path you want it to travel. The timing charm is  Statuto tempus.’

They all followed his instructions to the letter. Remus was a little surprised that James and Sirius were being so attentive. They never paid that much attention in class. But he supposed this was for fun, so it was far more important than class in their minds. 

Sirius and James succeeded on their first attempt. Peter took a few tries, but it was only a couple of minutes before his wrapper was floating around the room with James’ and Sirius’, seemingly of their own accord.

‘We have got to use this for Halloween. We can make the candles do a dance,’ James said.

‘That will take forever to set up,’ Remus said.

James rolled his eyes. ‘So? We can do it over a few nights if necessary.’

‘Alright, we’ll talk about that later. We’re on the last step now. Basically, do exactly what you did before but add the timing charm and my combination spell. The full incantation will be  Statuto tempus et magicae simulio moratus mutatio.’

‘Merlin’s ragged and pointy hat, that’s a lot to remember,’ Sirius said. ‘How in Godric’s name did you manage to do all that?’

Remus considered the question. He hadn’t really found it that difficult. But why was that?

‘I think it might be the meditation.’

Sirius frowned. ‘The what?’

‘It’s a muggle thing. My mum bought me a book about it a few months before we started school. It helps me control my temper, but it’s improved my focus too.’

Sirius looked interested. ‘I could use a little help with that too. How does it work?’ 

‘It’s a lot of breathing and visualising stuff in your mind. I could teach you?’ 

‘It’s a date,’ Sirius said, winking and making him blush. Again. Goddammit. He really needed to stop reacting like that. 

Sirius smirked at him.

They went over the incantation several times until they all had it memorised before they tried it. Remus told them to set their timing charm for eleven o’clock. An hour would be long enough for them to get it done, he thought.

James finished first, again, after thirty minutes of trying, Sirius came second this time, finishing ten minutes after James and beating Peter by a full five minutes. They sat in silence, waiting for him to open his eyes. Sirius kept pulling faces, trying to make them laugh until Remus scowled at him to make him stop.

They dropped their chocolate wrappers into their bowls, and while they waited to see if they had been successful, they returned to the discussion of the dancing candles. 

‘It could be dangerous,’ Remus said. ‘If someone got in the way, they could be burnt or even catch fire.’

‘That would be bad. We’d be expelled for sure,’ Peter said. 

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ James said. ‘I think we need to add that to your Marauder role. Remus Lupin, Chief Researcher and Safety Monitor.’

Remus bowed. ‘I graciously accept.’

‘Excellent, I’ll write it in the book later. So, Maraudering Chief of Research and Safety, how do we do the dancing candles without hurting anyone?’

‘Hmm, some kind of shield charm around the candles? That would stop anyone getting hit by molten wax, too.’

Sirius frowned. ‘That sounds pretty advanced.’

Remus nodded. ‘The basic personal shield charm is a second-year spell, I think. But we wouldn’t need anything that powerful for this. It only needs to stop fire and solid objects, not magic. I’ll have a look next time I’m in the library.’

‘Which will probably be later today, right?’ Sirius asked, laughing.

Remus refused to be embarrassed by his dedication to schoolwork. They wouldn’t be able to understand why it meant so much to him, so he couldn’t blame them for finding his behaviour strange but he wouldn’t hide it. 

‘Probably,’ he agreed. ‘I want to look up some things for the cockatrice essay,’

When eleven o’clock came, all three wrappers changed colour. James’ was gold this time, Sirius had gone for purple and Peter’s was black.

‘Well done,’ Remus said. ‘I can’t believe you all got the hang of it so fast.’

Sirius winked at him. ‘You’re just an amazing teacher, Remus.’

‘That might be a part of it,’ Remus said, feeling his face heating up again. He was going to end up permanently red at this rate.

They practised a few more times, trying out more complex transfigurations and working their way up to creating bubbles. They took a break for lunch, and the other Marauders joined Remus in the kitchen, where Remus taught them the theory of turning a gas into a liquid, as they wouldn’t be covering it in class until November. Peter picked it up surprisingly quickly, and Remus wondered if it was the informal setting putting him more at ease. The classroom environment didn’t work for everyone. 

By two o’clock, they were all happily transfiguring pockets of air in the room into bubbles of various sizes, and the dormitory was filled with them.

‘I think you’re ready,’ Remus said, with a wide smile. 

James fetched the belch powder his dad had sent him, and they settled down to complete the mammoth task. They would need to channel for an hour to be sure there was enough magic in the bowls to work on each grain of powder. 

 -o-o-o-o-

 The following Tuesday, after lunch, Sirius was lounging on his bed in the dorm, chatting with James and Peter while they waited for their spells to activate. They had been practising the timed levitation charm for Halloween, and there were a number of items placed strategically around the room.

 ‘Only four more days until we find out what’s behind the locked door,’ Sirius said.

James was sitting up on his bed, tossing a balled up pair of socks back and forth across the room with Peter. ‘I know. I can’t wait. What do you reckon it is? I bet it's something awesome.’

‘This is Hogwarts, mate. It could literally be anything.’

They all looked over when the door burst open and an out of breath Remus rushed through it.

‘I’ve found the recipe!’ he said, collapsing on his bed.

James perked up. ‘For the animation potion? No way!’ 

Remus sat up. ‘Yes. I still don’t see how we can use it, though. We don’t want to ruin the feast by making the tables gallop off again.’

‘Give it to our Chief Potioneer. He’s going to see what he can do with it.’

Remus stood up and took three steps across the room towards Peter when all of a sudden various items around the room rose into the air and converged on him.

‘Oh shit! Remus, duck!’ Sirius cried.

Remus didn’t need telling twice. He dropped to the floor and rolled onto his back to watch as the quills, socks, screwed up balls of parchment, and potions bottles carried out an elaborate dance above his head.

He pointed at one particular item. ‘That quill is out of time with the others.’

Sirius threw his pillow at him. ‘Shut up, it was our first attempt.’

Remus arched his head back to look at him. ‘Really? Well, in that case, it’s very impressive. Well done.’

A couple of minutes later, it was safe for Remus to stand back up, and he handed the recipe he’d copied from the library book to Peter, who looked it over with a frown. 

‘This is pretty straightforward,’ he said after a couple of minutes. ‘If I substitute a couple of items and add in a targeting charm at the end, we can make it so it only animates the bats. We’ll need to add one of them to the potion so it knows what to target.’ He looked up from the parchment. ‘It’ll take two full days to brew though.’

‘We’ll have to do it in here over the weekend,’ Sirius said.

‘But what if they do a dorm check and catch us? We’d get in serious trouble for brewing in the dorm,’ Peter said.

‘If one of us stays in the room at all times, we can avoid dorm checks. The house-elves don’t come in if the room’s occupied,’ James said.

Remus looked at him. ‘How do you know that?’

James grinned. ‘My dad told me. He thought it was important information every boy should be aware of.’

Sirius laughed. ‘I kind of love your dad.’

‘Strange. I kind of love him too,’ James said with a chuckle. ‘He would adore you. You should come over in the summer holidays. All of you. We can have a Marauder sleepover or something.’

Yeah. That wasn’t going to happen, Sirius thought. No way his parents were going to let him out of the house that summer. 

‘I can practically see you thinking, Sirius. You can’t possibly believe your mother is daft enough to refuse an official invitation from House Potter? That would be social suicide.’

He was right. She’d be furious about it, of course, but she’d have no choice but to let him go. Sirius grinned. ‘It’ll be brilliant!’

‘Yeah, it will! Peter, you in?’ James said. 

‘Definitely. I’m sure my mum won’t mind.’

‘Remus?’

Sirius glanced over. Remus was biting his lip. He knew what the problem was; he wouldn’t be able to say yes unless he knew exactly what day it was going to be.

‘I’ll have to ask my mum. But I’d like to come if she lets me.’

Translation: I want to come, but only if it’s not a full moon.

Sirius decided then and there to make sure the get together happened when it wasn’t a full moon so Remus could be there. It wouldn’t be a Marauder sleepover without the original Marauder, after all.

 -o-o-o-o-

 Two days later, after Potions had ended, Remus waited for the rest of the students to clear out before making his way to the front of the class.

‘Excuse me, Professor. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about the uses of dragon blood in potions?’ 

Slughorn looked up from the essay he was marking. ‘Of course, my boy. What is it you’d like to know?’

‘Well, I was thinking about its use in healing potions. Could it be mixed with dittany to make its effects stronger?’

Peter had told him to ask that. Apparently dittany and dragon’s blood were an explosive combination.

‘Oh, Merlin, no! That’s a terrible idea. Dragon’s blood is very volatile, and it dislikes dittany immensely. Don’t ever combine them.’

Remus nodded. ‘Understood, sir.’

‘Do you have an interest in potions?’

Remus shrugged. ‘It’s more an interest in healing, really. You may have noticed I’m not particularly adept with a cauldron.’

‘Well, you’ll need at least a little competency with potions to get into the healers’ program at St Mungos. But I may be able to help you with that. I have a few connections in the trainee intake department. Why don’t you come to my party this Saturday, and I’ll see what I can do for you? You’re friends with Black, Potter and Pettigrew aren’t you?’ 

Remus nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Invite them along too. It starts at seven pm in the room next door to this one.’

‘I will, sir. Thank you.’

‘Not at all. Have a lovely evening, Mister Lupin.’

‘You too, sir’ Remus said, hurrying from the room and hoping he had kept Slughorn talking for long enough.

James, Sirius and Peter were waiting for him outside and gave him a thumbs up. They had got what they needed for the potion. Excellent.

 -o-o-o-o-  

 The Official Marauders Notebook

The Marauders

James Potter - Chief Imaginator and Lily Evans Stalker

Sirius Black - Chief Artist and Charmer of Teachers

Remus Lupin - Chief Researcher and Safety Monitor and Chocolate Eating Genius

Peter Pettigrew - Chief Potioneer and Master of Food Procurement

  The Marauders Code

- All feast days are Marauder celebrations and should be marked as such with Mischief

- All Marauder Mischief should be harmless and fun for everyone

- Marauders always keep each other’s secrets but are not obligated to reveal their secrets before they’re ready

- Marauders always come before girls

- A Marauder will always come to a fellow Marauders aid

- The Chief Imaginator is responsible for providing all Marauders with daily chocolate and must give compliments to them once every hour.

  6th October

The crossed-out sections were added in permanent ink at some point during the night when all NORMAL people were sleeping, and they do not count. The main suspect is one Sirius Black, who is giggling like a girl. - James Potter Chief Imaginator and Lily Evans Stalker.

  7th October

Sirius! Stop adding things to the Official Marauder Notebook or I’ll kick you out of the club! - James Potter Chief Imaginator and Lily Evans Stalker.

 8th October 1:23 am

James! Never! And I don’t giggle like a girl. My laugh is deep and manly. - Sirius Black Chief Artist and Charmer of Teachers.

 Monday 11th October 11:45 am

  Chief Imaginator to Chief Researcher, Gods Transfiguration theory is boring, have you had any luck finding that recipe yet?

No, I’m going to look tomorrow afternoon. And it’s not boring; it’s important. Especially if you want to be able to change, oh I don’t know, bubbles into bats? -  Chief Researcher and Safety Monitor.

You have to sign your messages so we know who it’s from. I did it for you this time. And you make a good point, I will try to pay attention. - Chief Imaginator

You know who it’s from, James. I passed it to you. And you’re not doing a very good job of paying attention. I saw you flicking bits of parchment at Snape. -  Chief Researcher and Safety Monitor.

They were drawings of his ugly nose. I think he appreciated them. Please sign your name. For me? - Chief Imaginator.

I will if you do your work - Remus

Fine! - Chief Imaginator.

 Thursday 14th October, 3:00 pm

 Remus, we need you to distract Slughorn after class. Can you talk to him about something? - James.

Sure, how long do you need? - Remus.

Long enough to sneak into his office and grab some ingredients. - James.

Ask him about mixing dragon’s blood and dittany, he’ll be horrified - Peter.

Why, what does it do? - Remus.

Let’s just say they’re an explosive combination - Peter.

Peter, you’re giving me ideas - Sirius.

Sirius, as Marauder Safety Monitor, I forbid you to blow up the school - Remus.

Remus, you spoil all my fun :( - Sirius.

Chapter 20

[ashleyswrittenwords]

How To Be A Queen [Part 7]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Warning: None

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Part 1

How To Be A Queen

I woke up this morning with a stumble in my step and a desperation to eat more than any lady should. Today, I reminded myself, I am not a lady. Or royalty, or anything of the sort. I was Zelda. Just like yesterday, and just like tomorrow. Zelda.

I fumbled around the pockets of the trousers I wore for the last week and after blindly patting around I procured a thin leather strap. I was not in the mood to even attempt to style the rat's nest that sat on my scalp, instead settling with combing the more obvious bits of hair and tying up the rest in a rather messy bun. I peered into the dresser mirror. My eyes weren't even all the way open. The nest on my head was smoother, but easily resembled a pile of hay. Oh, well.

A glitter on my finger caught my attention. On my middle finger was a gold band. It was simple, as it was supposed to be. I was gifted it on my 13th birthday. It was supposed to symbolize my sincerity and purity. On the night of my wedding there is a ring ceremony of switching it to my ring finger. Which, in all honesty, was pointless. It just screams out to everyone that I got laid. I pursed my lips. I had forgotten to leave it when I left. There was no point in having it now.

There was a quiet tap at the door. It shuttered as it slid open.

"Oh, good. You're awake. One of the girls prepared breakfast. I've also brought a change of traveler's clothes."

Impa closed the door behind her, giving one disapproving look at my hair. "You look like you've never been near a marbled floor in your life."

"Oh good, that was the look I was going for actually."

She shook her head and pulled a chair up, "I do suppose you've never had the chance to get ready by yourself before. Sit child."

I followed suit and sat. Impa pulled the leather strap from my hair with ease and my hair sprang into frizzy mess once more. "Now follow me in the mirror, Zelda," she began taking my hair into her hands and narrated a process of how to properly style one's hair without an extra pair of hands. After a few minutes of struggling and strained fingers I managed to do a proper bun that satisfied the Sheikah woman.

"Just because you've been traveling with a man doesn't mean you need to get ready like one," she muttered, handing me a set of clothes she had brought in. "Nor should you wear their clothes."

I laughed at her sincerity and thanked her. She rambled a little bit about the village and how cold the winter would be as I undressed myself.

"They're saying it will be one of the coldest winters in years, Zelda. I think if you are going to Hateno like Link had told me you should leave today before nightfall if you want to beat the snowfall."

As my head popped through the thin first cotton layer I looked at her in disbelief, "Today? But I'd like to spend more time here. With you."

She shook her head with a smile, "I'm afraid the goddesses haven't deemed it so. These are the perfect conditions for a blizzard. And whenever we have a large snowfall, the mountain passes get blocked for days. Unfortunately, I wouldn't want to risk Link and yourself being stuck here when a whole world awaits you."

I scowled, "Rubbish."

Despite my sour mood, the clothes fit like a glove. There were two long white layers with a pattered black and green bodice that laced in the front. I held the laces in my hand and looked up at my host with a light blush, "I'm sorry, could you help me? I've never tied a bodice before."

Breakfast was divine. I ate canned peaches and strawberries with porridge, and though it wasn't my usual favorite from Castletown it was a welcomed treat. A tea pot was set down by a girl who Impa had said was a priestess in training. I smiled and thanked her. It steamed through the spout and I looked just beyond it at a blond headed man already asking for a third helping. The girl giggled at his aloof grin and took the bowl away from him with a red face.

"Have you no shame, Captain?" Impa addressed him.

"I'm afraid not, ma'am," he answered easily.

Impa let out a "Hmph!" and turned to me, "I attempted to teach him basic etiquettes before you were his charge."

"You were?" I looked over at Link, who in turn held a grin.

"An emphasis on attempted."

No wonder they were so comfortable together. Impa nodded, "Your father had asked me to vet him before his promotion. As you can see his mannerisms weren't what won me over."

"It's okay, Lady Impa, you don't have to tell her it was my charm."

Impa failed to hide a smile, "It certainly was not."

I laughed. "I don't think it was all for naught, I don't think he spoke more than a sentence to me the first two years."

"Is that right?" Impa asked, "Probably a good thing, if you ask me. Once you start getting him to talk about himself he doesn't shut up."

"That's not true!" He said. Much to my amusement, I watched Link and Impa bicker from my seat. I could only listen with a smile. For some reason, I enjoyed this. It differed greatly to the silent meals in the great hall, but it was welcomed. I giggled at one of Impa's retorts. The uneasiness between Link and I had apparently been dissolved. The possibility of it resurfacing once we leave today made me nervous, but I pushed it aside finding them looking at me. Link had just finished his question. Embarrassed, my cheeks warmed, "I beg your pardon?"

"See!" Impa interjected, "Impeccable manners. You could actually learn by example."

Link half acknowledged her with a smile and looked back at me with concern creeping into his voice, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" I said while I messed with what remained in my bowl as a measly attempt to distract myself from the way he looked at me.

"I'm sorry you have to leave so soon, Zelda," Impa said gently. I shook my head, "It's not your fault. I'm not upset."

I shrugged, glancing at Link, "We can always come back, right?"

"Don't look at me, Princess," he said, laughing a bit at my question, "I'm just along for the ride."

"And my door is always open for you, Zelda."

I felt suddenly bashful, "Thank you."

The outdoor air was a shock to my system. I had been spoiled the last day with a warm bed. I tried to engulf myself with the coat I was given. It was grey and lined with fur on the inside. Someone lifted the hood and let it drop over my head, dipping in front of my face. I saw Link kneel in front of me with a broad grin, "You ready?" A boyish excitement peeked through, making me smile without my meaning to.

I watched him wait for my response. "Oh!" I scrambled, "Where is Impa?"

"Behind you," she responded. I spun around and gave her a tight hug.

"You're coming back," she said as a statement, not as a suggestion. I nodded eagerly. "Good," she hugged me back, her voice dipping into a more professional tone, "We need to talk about how you will address your court."

"I know," I said pulling away. She was right. I was thankful to have someone like Impa there to help. It made me feel less alone. With a bout of waving, we parted. I rushed to catch up with Link's long strides. It had snowed overnight and the inches of snow crunched under our feet. I wished I could say goodbye to Rivka and her mother, but it seemed it wasn't meant to be. Perhaps next time we were in the area.

"Where to next?" Link said as we entered the mountain pass.

I looked at him weird, "Hateno. Where else were you thinking?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, "It'll be underwhelming compared to everything."

"Doubtful." A gust of wind came through the pass and I gasped as the hood flew off, letting the cold hit my face and neck. "Keep your hood up, it would suck if you get sick," he said, adjusting his own. Tufts of blond hair overflowed from his dark coat.

I held onto my hood as another gust blew past us, it was almost violent. I wonder what would've happened if we stayed longer than we should have. Despite the chill, I was entranced by how much heavy snow changed the scenery. Plants and grass that were poking from the ground when we arrived was now deeply entrenched in snow. The trees that loomed over us were skeletons. It was quiet other than the crunch of snow under our feet. The depth had gotten so deep that I opted to tail behind Link and follow his footsteps. Every now and again he would look back to check if I was still there. And each time I would smile because I didn't know what else to do when I looked at him.

It took us longer to get through the trail than we expected. If I had to guess maybe two hours compared to the hour long ascension. We took a path that led us farther south. The mountains opened and not long after were in the distance behind us.

"I didn't get Aryll anything."

"Hm?" I was pulled out of my thoughts and saw Link debating something in his head. The snow wasn't as heavy here so I hurried to walk alongside my guide.

"I didn't get a souvenir for my sister. She'll be mad."

"Well, what do you usually get her?"

Link paused, "Girl stuff. From Castletown. I've bought a gown for her before - of course it didn't fit. A necklace for her birthday. I think one time I bought her a diary. She never used it."

"Oh," I pondered, "What does she like?"

"Girl things."

I blinked, my eyebrows drawing together, "Like what?"

He shrugged, "Hair and jewelry or something. She doesn't really express much interest in anything other than astronomy, but she already has a telescope."

"She likes jewelry?"

"Yeah, but we never really could afford anything growing up. I think Aryll was forced to grow out of that interest."

I pulled at a band around my middle finger, "Here, give her this."

I held out my palm. It was my gold ring. "Zelda," Link sounded surprised, "I can't just take this."

"Why not? It's nothing special. I only wear it on formal occasions."

"You know why," he shook his head, "It'd be wrong for me to give away my charge's purity ring."

My cheeks reddened, "Don't say it like that. It's not- We aren't-"

I was lost for words as unnecessary imagery rushed through my head.

He raised his eyebrows at me in a knowing expression, "See?" I mumbled my frustration away and glanced at our bag on his back.

"What?" He said, noticing the smile playing on my lips.

"During the era of the Middle Kingdoms, wives would give their husbands the rings after," I wiggled my eyebrows, "you know."

Link's face went blank and he looked at me strangely. I expected a response attune to "Go on…", but he didn't say anything.

"Sooo," I prolonged the 'o', "We just have to find someone to marry me and then he can give you the ring."

"Yeah, no," he rolled his eyes as I began laughing.

"Why not? I think it's a fool-proof plan! It'll totally get the heat off your back."

"Sure, let's go back and get ahold of that one guy from the ball," he said, taking long strides. I picked up my pace, unbelievably amused by my own banter. My face scrunched up. "I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole."

"I wouldn't let you come within one-hundred feet of him!" Link exclaimed, "Hylia willing."

I beamed, forgetting completely about the cold. My face dropped as I remembered something. "Link! Stop I need to get something."

Link did and I took the moment to reach into it, rummaging around. It was forcefully pulled low by my weight.

"Ow, quit it," he said, kneeling slightly. "I'm not a pack mule, Highness."

I flicked him in the head, "I told you to stop calling me that, Pack Mule."

"Um, it's Sir Pack Mule to you. I was knighted by you-"

"Aha!" I yelled out, producing an ivory comb from the bag. "Give her this."

I made sure to bring a comb when we left Impa's house, and they were like the ones from the castle. It was made from ivory and fine-toothed, on the handle was a delicately carved flower. If Aryll wanted to, I suppose it could be used as decoration .

"Where did you get that?"

"Impa's house. Don't worry, I asked to steal it."

Link took it out of my hand gingerly. "I think Aryll will love it."

"Really?" I grinned. He nodded, lingering a bit. "Come on, we'll get off track."

I complied. We walked further and eventually we reached a bridge. The lake was frozen over to the point where I thought it was a field of white, it wasn't until I heard water was when I questioned Link about it.

"Lake Siela is known for freezing only the over the top," he had told me, "A lot of travelers have fallen through and died because of it. People think the water is just warm enough from the hot springs runoff that only the surface is affected. Others think the lake is cursed."

"What do you think?"

"I think we should walk over the bridge instead."

As we were reaching it, we noticed a woman standing around.

Was she… singing to her horse?

"Link," I whispered aggressively, "That's the same woman from the campfire."

"From Kakariko?"

"No, the stable."

He grew quiet. I looked up and he had a set expression on his face. Somehow, I could tell that he was debating if we should turn back. I wasn't so alarmed by her presence, but Link's reaction when he saw her that night unnerved me. I had thought it was because it was the first person I spoke to since leaving the castle, but he didn't act the same at the village. Something was wrong.

"I'm sure she's fine, though," I said more to assure myself.

"Your ring."

"What about it?" I thumbed the side of the band. I felt him move closer and my heart jumped when we brushed sides. Hot fingers interlaced with my own and my cheeks flushed. My brain stopped working. All I knew was that Link was warm and he smelled good. With that thought being processed properly, I realized how strange it would be to say that aloud. "Switch it to your ring finger," he finally whispered. It sounded like he knelt to my ear to say that. His voice was low, but my stomach seemed to drop lower.

"O-Oh."

Suddenly I was aware of how I was walking, how my hair looked, how my frigid hands were starting to sweat, how I was breathing, amongst other things. Despite it all, I unfortunately took my hand away from Link and switched the ring before unceremoniously slipping it back into place. My breath was uneven as he tightened his hold.

Thirty yards turned into fifteen and then into five.

"Hello there!" Link bellowed, he sounded completely different from before. I tried searching for a word to describe it and quickly settled on jovial. In some respect, with the same assertiveness as Uncle.

She turned towards us as if she was expecting company. "Well! What a coincidence to see this happy couple again!" Her eyes were the same piercing color. I hadn't noticed her tan skin that night, but it's deep complexion contrasted perfectly to the winter wonderland around her. Her cheekbones being more extenuated. It occurred to me that she may not be Hylian as I had assumed earlier. However, she wasn't tall like a Gerudo. My thoughts were put to rest as her eyes scanned me. I smiled politely despite feeling violated by her gaze. I involuntarily squeezed Link's hand, feeling reprieve when I felt him return the pressure.

"I thought you two were engaged!" She gasped audibly. My heart jumped.

"You caught us!" Link laughed, it sounded foreign to my ears, "We got eloped in Kakariko."

"How romantic!" She smiled widely. I smiled back, hugging his arm.

If you're going to play the part… at least make it convincing, right?

"We'd love to stay and chat, but I'm afraid we'll miss our honeymoon. Happy Midwinter!" He said bowing his head and pushed against me to start walking. Admittingly I almost tripped on my own feet but was saved by lumber support.

"And what is this lovely budding family called?" She called behind us.

"We're the Foresters," he said, glancing over his shoulder.

[mobius-prime]

151. Sonic the Hedgehog #85

The Big Payback

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Frank Gagliardo

So Eggman is quite peeved that Sonic stopped his plans to destroy Station Square via ancient water monster. However, he has a plan to get back at Sonic - and as with many of his previous plans, it involves a robotic duplicate of his archnemesis…

Sonic and the Freedom Fighters are in Station Square, which is in the midst of trying to clean up the mess left by the attack, being thanked and awarded by the mayor for saving their city. Suddenly, the ceremony is interrupted by the appearance of Silver Sonic II, which is significantly smaller in size than its original counterpart.

Sonic leads his robotic nemesis on a wild goose chase across the city to draw fire away from the innocents at the ceremony. Big snags Silver Sonic II's leg with his fishing rod, and Tails tries to attack it while it's stuck, but he gets knocked aside into Big as the mecha breaks free and continues its pursuit of its quarry. Sonic and it finally crash through a window into the ground level of a building that's been structurally compromised by the flood, something Silver Sonic II uses to its advantage.

The building falls on top of them both, and Eggman, watching from his base, cackles, knowing that Silver Sonic II is sturdy enough to survive such an impact. The Freedom Fighters desperately dig into the rubble only to find a hole in the ground beneath it, indicating that Sonic dug his way to safety through the ground. As he pops back out and continues to fight the robot, Nicole, Sally and Nate try to discern its potential weaknesses.

Damn, if Eggman somehow found an infinite power supply, why did he waste it on one measly little robot? You'd think he'd insert that into an Ultimate Annihilator Mk. II or something and get to work erasing existence. Sonic is shaken free from Silver Sonic II midair, and when Tails catches him, Silver Sonic II straight up jettisons his own foot into Tails' head as payback. Sonic becomes enraged at seeing his friend knocked out by the long-range kick, and this gives him enough strength to deal the final blow against his foe.

What indeed? Eggman certainly doesn't seem too fazed by Silver Sonic II's loss, as he installed a homing beacon in it for this very possibility, and intends to simply wait until the Freedom Fighters leave the city unattended and then waltz in to fix up his robot and get to conquerin'. However, the Freedom Fighters certainly don't seem too worried, leaving the city after saying goodbye to Big, who's heading back to the Mysterious Cat Country with Froggy in tow, and they hop in their aircraft only for it to immediately begin to careen out of control.

Sally orders Sonic and Tails to do some reconnaissance for signs of life nearby (why, I have no idea - they crashed like not even a mile from Station Square from the looks of it), and shoots Amy down when she tries to ask to go along. Nate, inspecting the damage, finds it to be the result of sabotage, and while he worries about who may have done it (the idea that it may have been, you know, Eggman, or the robot they were just fighting, doesn't seem to cross his mind), Eggman himself waltzes straight into the city like he didn't just try to murder everyone in it. Somehow he doesn't get immediately arrested on the street, and instead he finds his robot as planned - only Silver Sonic II is already repaired, and has been reprogrammed by Nate to serve as Station Square's loyal protector from now on! That's actually some damn good thinking on his part. Amusingly, Eggman races out with his former creation on his heels while shouting that "Payback is such a glitch!" which is maybe the closest this comic has come to actually swearing so far.

Home & Back

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils/Colors: Diamond Rose Studios

The art in this issue is really bizarre, for some reason - it's credited in its entirety to "Diamond Rose Studios," without elaborating on who actually worked on what, and the art style, particularly the shading, is pretty noticeably different from the style of other artists for the comic. If anything, it comes across much more like amateur work you might find on DeviantArt rather than official art for a licensed video game comic. But hey, it's not bad art, so no real problem here. Oh, and Rotor's finally back! It's been so long since we've seen him… *checks back* twenty-four issues, in fact! We unfortunately find him now in a nasty predicament - his bathysphere is taking on water fast, and he's not having any success radioing for help. He thinks back on how his last few months have been - shortly after he left to find his family, he indeed found them safe and sound with the help of the Arctic Freedom Fighters.

This issue seems to take place just shortly after Eggman's return, because Rotor recounts how just recently his family all fell under the mind control spell again, once more trying to kill him and forcing him to run for his life in his bathysphere, which was then damaged, leaving him stranded in his current predicament. Honestly, I have to point out right now that the timeline of these early eras is aaaall over the place. Issues are constantly throwing out random amounts of time, claiming that X amount of months have passed between this event and that event, only to claim a different amount of time between similar events over here and there. I mean, I got the initial impression that Robotnik had only died a maximum of maybe five months before Eggman's arrival, and yet here Rotor is claiming it had been nearly a year? Then on top of that he apparently spent months hanging out with his family in the North Sea, easily making it over a year since Robotnik's death - and yet the timeline of StH#72 and beyond clearly indicates that mere days passed in between his leaving and Eggman's return, yet here he is, claiming to have spent months with his family unmarred by any negative circumstances. Even if you argue that maybe the mind control was a delayed effect and only started back up right around now during the Chaos fiasco, the early issues of this era seem to indicate that not more than a few weeks have passed between Eggman's arrival and the Sonic Adventure adaption - this is his first evil world domination plot since his return, after all. What I'm saying is that the amounts of time that various issues claim have passed between most of these key events just don't line up with each other at all, so you really have to take any character's claim of months or years between events with a gigantic grain of salt. I don't know why they didn't put more effort into maintaining a consistent "schedule" if you will of events, if only for consistency's sake, but then again this bothers me probably more than most, just because I have a strong need for narrative consistency in my own stories. It's just another one of those odd plot holes that we kind of have to ignore to get anywhere.

Rotor, having finished with his chronologically-impossible recounting of previous events, realizes that the water leaking into his bathysphere is coming entirely too close to a mass of live wires, and makes the decision to abandon ship, preferring to risk a long swim back to the surface.

Well, at least these friendly fellas have got his back. Hopefully we'll see more of him back with the main Freedom Fighter chapter soon, because having him head off to find his family honestly felt like an excuse to just get rid of him as a character for a while, and I resent that, because Rotor is a big chubby bro and we deserve to see more of him being a badass sweetheart.

[danganxastrologyimagines]

“How would the DR2 react to their s/o finding a two person bike and suggest to ride it around the island?”

Hajime Hinata:

You were walking along the beach with Hajime, fingers intertwined as you lovingly looked up to your boyfriend. The sunset complimented his smile, as your hands slowly swayed with one another.

You look over to the path, and you see a two-person bike.

“Hajime, look.” You hush, pointing over at the vehicle. “We should go on it!”

The boy looks over to the bike, before pulling you over to the bike.

Chiaki Nanami:

Chiaki was sleeping in her room, exhausted from the day you spent with each other.

You, being the more adventurous one, explored the island in more depth.

Eventually, you make a discovery. A date idea.

More specifically, this idea was riding a two-person bike with your girlfriend. You would take the front seat, letting Chiaki cycle without the responsibility of steering the bike.

You run over to Chiaki’s house, knocking on the door before running in to tell Chiaki about your discovery. You look over to her bed, and she’s rubbing her eyes as she slowly got up from her hibernation.

“Chiaki, can we cycle with each other tomorrow?” You beamed at her. “I found a bike that has two seats on it!”

“Ah, that sounds fun…I think…” Chiaki lets out with a light blush illuminating her face, before falling asleep again.

Nagito Komaeda:

Nagito likely was the person to spy it.

He really REALLY wanted to go on the bike, but he didn’t want to force you, nor anyone else, to ride with him.

“Hey.” You interrupt his inner thoughts. He looks over to you to see what you were going to come out with.

“Wanna go for a ride? I noticed you were eyeing up that bike over there.” You joke, enveloping his arm with your arms.

“I mean, I would like to.” Nagito begins. “But trash like me sh-“

You drag him over to the bike.

“Stop with the ‘trash’ rants.” You state. “Now, do you want the front or the back?”

Sonia Nevermind:

The moment you spy the bike, you’re running over to the bike. Poor Sonia was struggling to keep up with your steps, flailing her limbs around.

“S/O, what happened my dear?” Sonia demanded.

“I saw this bike, and it looked like something you’d like to try out!” You retorted.

Sonia looks over at the bike, her eyes lighting up.

“Ah! This reminds me of those old-fashioned romance movies where a romantic couple ride on it lovingly.” Sonia sighs out. She’s staring at it in awe.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu:

The yakuza was escorting you to a place you wanted to show him.

Why did you drag him out of nowhere? He was walking along side you, watching out for any potential danger.

You stop at a bike.

“Is a bike that mysterious to you, S/O?” Fuyuhiko blandly questioned.

“It’s not the bike itself that I wanted you to see! I want to ride it with you!” You respond, pointing over at the two seats located on the bike.

Fuyuhiko stares at the bike for a minute, making you feel uneasy.

“I-I mean, if you don’t want to that’s fine as well…” You sadly admit to him.

You begin to walk away, but Fuyuhiko grabs your hand, pulling you over to the bike.

Akane Owari:

You were doing laps around the island with Nekomaru and Akane.

After 5 laps, you took a liking to a bike that you spotted. The reason the bike was one you’d like was because it had two seats – you could share the ride with someone else.

You had Akane in mind.

You didn’t even realise that you stopped in your tracks to admire the bike until Akane speaks up.

“I like that bike as well, s/o!” Akane was ecstatic that you found the bike.

“Wanna go for a ride?” You blurt out, smiling at Akane.

“Sure! Nekomaru, can the both of us go now, or do we have to complete the task?”

Nekomaru was about to debate against the action, until he saw the looks on the both of your faces. Both of you looked so excited, happy that you could even find a bike like this one.

“Go ahead!” He responds. “We can do a contest where people go into teams to see who can do the most laps around the island in ten minutes!” He blurts out as you’re both running towards the bike.

Kazuichi Souda:

When you ask Kazuichi if he wanted to ride the bike with you, he’s looking at you like you were trying to prank him.

“I’m not falling for this one.” Kazuichi tried to go against the idea of finding a bike he never even saw on the island.

“No, there really is a bike we can both ride on! Follow!” You cheered, walking with newly found motivation within your legs.

He does follow you, as he had nothing to do. On top of this, he was wanting to know if there was, in fact, a bike like the one you described.

Finding the bike, he’s staring at it in awe.

“Can we go on it?” He admits, laughing at the realisation that he thought you were lying when it was a real thing on the island.

Peko Pekoyama:

Peko looked down, and you couldn’t really figure out what made her feel upset.

So being the loving person you are, you invite her out to a bike ride.

She doesn’t really say much when you’re wrapping your arm around her waist.

But when she does get to the bike, she looks really happy. Contempt with the situation you’ve offered her, she happily goes to the front seat to steer you along the island with the help of your legs.

Nekomaru Nidai:

You spy the bike, and you want to ask Nekomaru to come with you to travel using the two-person bike.

But when you get to him, you get nervous.

“Speak up, S/O!” Nekomaru projects. “You have to speak to start going after your dreams and desires!”

That made you even more nervous. You were blushing profusely, while stuttering out what you had in mind.

“Ah, is it about that bike I’ve been interested in?” Nekomaru questioned.

You nod.

“Well let’s make your desire to ride the bike into a reality!” He finishes, initiating a race between the two of you to the bike.

Hiyoko Saonji:

She wanted to do something romantic with you, but you were too oblivious to her changed attitude around places she wanted to stop at. You thought she didn’t want to be in the places she got quiet and flustered around, but she wanted you to be more lovey dovey with her.

When she caught you looking at the bike in question, she had enough of your actions.

“C’mon, let’s do something fun for a change.” She whines, while dragging you along with her.

You smile to yourself, and you let her chose who sat at the front and back of the bike, as well as the route.

Teruteru Hanumura:

When you found the bike, you decide to ask him if he could ride with you.

“Ohohoho, so you’re ready to go up a level in our relationship, cher!” He excitedly pondered.

“Uh, no…” You try to explain. “I found a bike, and I thought that you’d like to ride it with me!”

He does agree, but then he discovers that his legs couldn’t reach the pedals.

So the ride consisted of you being at the front and escorting Tertuteru through the island, while Tertuteru was shouting out sexual comments to people passing by.

Mikan Tsumiki:

Mikan wouldn’t really be honest with what she wanted when you guys were hanging out, and you noticed how many times she looked at places that would have had romantic undertones.

When you asked her if she wanted to go, she got nervous and said that you wouldn’t have to do so. She looked really scared, almost like she was preparing for you to abuse her like other people did in the past.

So when you guided her to a bike, she squealed with happiness before quickly apologising for her actions.

“Mikan, ride with me, please.” You smile at her, easing her into the situation. “I want to make you feel loved.” You finish, caressing her hand.

You look up at her face, and she’s smirking with a heavy blush on her face.

“I-I would love to!” She beams.

Byakuya Twogami:

He would try to keep up his façade of Togami, let’s be honest.

When you look at the bike, he already knows what you wanted to go on it with him.

“Ah, so you want to ride a measly bike with me, I see…” he retorts. “Well, I must escort my lover through the island, so I suppose I must do so!

Mahiru Koizumi:

Mahiru was complaining about the lack of inspiration to take more pictures that she was proud of. The island got boring for her after the first week of being there.

So when you find the bike, you hurry Mahiru over to the bike, allowing her to make a decision based on viewing the vehicle.

She makes a proposal to you. You would take the front seat and guide her around the island, while she would take pictures from the bike.

Gundham Tanaka:

You wanted to catch Gundham off-guard, but nothing really worked. The closest you got to him breaking his character was when you were hardcore flirting with him while giving multiple sensual body signals implying you wanted something else. Even then, all you really got was him nudging his scarf up, hiding his prominent blush from your moves.

Aha, you struck gold! A bicycle made for two!

You were walking with Gundham, and he didn’t seem to notice the presence of the bike. Almost like he didn’t want to draw too much attention to the bike itself.

“My dark lord of the underworld,” You whispered to the Sagittarius, making him stop in his tracks. “Wanna ride?”

You heard the poor guy whimpering, so you look up to see what face he was making.

You managed to make him so flustered that he’s nervously shaking, while stuttering out something you couldn’t hear. Maybe you went TOO far with this plan.

“Over there’s a bike that both of us can ride on.” You finish your request. “It would allow you to declare war on this island!”

Gundham slowly looks over, to see the bike you were questioning. He stopped stuttering, and he managed to calm down his shuddering. He’s got a hint of excitement in his eyes, and he’s unable to hide this.

Ibuki Mioda:

Let’s be honest, Ibuki would have seen the bike long before you knew it was present.

How did you not see the two-seated bicycle that was stretched out on the island? It practically stuck out like a sore thumb, but it didn’t seem like it was used.

“Ibuki discovered a bike we can enjoy a ride on!” Ibuki declared, running towards you with a smile. “Ibuki thinks that Ibuki could find more inspiration for writing new songs based on the excitement!” She finishes, dragging you along while skipping before you could go against the action.

You didn’t want to go against the action – Ibuki was clearly excited, and you also wanted to enjoy a ride around the place to take your mind off the killing game for a while.

[melforbes]

the beast, fast asleep

“dick clark’s dead,” she said that morning as she made them both eggs over-easy. “he can’t be on his own show, so why call it dick clark’s new year’s eve?”

though he doubted she had the title correct, there was no point in correcting her, or if there was a point, the point was the same as finding meaning in why some truck cut in front of him when he was trying to get gas or why the measly town nearby had grown so overcrowded that he hadn’t managed to get her belated christmas present, a book he’d completely forgotten she’d asked for, before the end of the year. in the end, he only had to wait for the gas, and after he’d admitted to his forgetfulness and ultimate inability, she shrugged it all off and put the book in her amazon cart, letting him press the purchase button because she knew it would help him keep thoughts of inadequacy at bay.

“tradition, i guess,” mulder gave, taking his first sip of coffee. “i’m out of ideas for plans otherwise.”

at this point, he was so accustomed to such admittances that he wondered when they would start to feel far-out again. at the beginning of the year, he had been fighting back tears in front of his therapist, but now, scully would wake in the early hours of the morning to find him facing away from her, only his position acting as a shield, his cries obvious but gambling: he wouldn’t wake her but would ask for comfort if, through his not holding back, she heard him, woke, and inquired. it would be one thing if he knew he wasn’t trying, but he now had regimens in every part of his life, from the internet to sex to whether or not he was to leave the house, which, more often than not, he was to do. the only time he’d missed biweekly therapy had been when he’d taken scully on an ill-fated ski trip in the adirondacks, a tweaked knee leaving them holed up in a shared cabin airbnb with a pair of athletic couples who left their expensive yoga mats sprawled out on the hearthstones because, apparently, it was all more authentic that way, a spiritual practice next the quintessential introductory biology question: is fire alive, or is it not? 

sometimes, his therapist told him to take into account that simply getting through the day, even if he drank or binge-ate or pushed scully away or hurt himself, was better than the alternative, but it was hard to see everyone else and still understand that his efforts were, in fact, efforts. one notification saying that scully had added a stanford-educated doctor as a facebook friend, and he would find himself dissecting his education, his employment, his pile of dishes in the sink, the dust piling on top of a self-help book borrowed from his therapist. with the internet and with large-scale communication, people became global citizens as soon as they logged on for the first time, and with the depression, the latent post-traumatic stress, and the malaise that had followed him for so long that it had become a constant companion, he found the responsibility of reacting to every piece of news, trying to better himself, and making sure that he left the world better than he found it was a heavier weight than he could carry.

“are you trying your best right now?” his therapist would ask.

“yes, of course i am,” he would defend. “does it seem like i’m not?”

“no, no,” she would say, shaking her head. “i know how hard you’ve worked, and i know your persistence has been challenging and, in the end, productive. i’m more curious as to why you need to defend that you’re doing all you can.”

on that, he would draw a blank, maybe shrug, say, “childhood things, i suppose. perfectionism tends to be the go-to blame.”

and his therapist would give a little tight-lipped smile. he could only imagine how challenging it was to counsel a fellow psychologist, a playmaker who knew her moves possibly even before she did. 

“do you think dana is doing her best?” his therapist would ask.

“yes,” he would say without a doubt. scully was seeing a therapist as well, a different one in the city. every other week, she would come home late on wednesday night feeling sometimes triumphant, sometimes haggard, and he would meet her at the doorway with a kiss and with dinner on the table. he’d watched the shifts within her over time, how she would breathe into their fights or speak her mind with quiet, fearful vulnerability, unafraid of him but terrified of herself. he hoped - and figured - there would be a day when they could share such little tells with each other, a measurement of progress, compassion of spirit, and pure respect. 

“do you think she thinks you’re doing your best?” his therapist would ask.

“yes,” he would say again without hesitation, for scully had expressed that to him enough times to make him feel secure in such an answer 

“if you know that you’re both doing your best, then what else is there that you need to know?” his therapist would ask. “why does it matter what anyone else does or thinks?”

so, it felt like defeat to lack new year’s plans, but he knew that, come the new year, he would need to work on that. he didn’t understand the finite feeling of a year, for midnight would pass, the ball would drop, kisses would be had, and everyone would sluggishly make their ways to work on the 2nd, cast out of the liminal holiday haze, ready for what always ended up being an awkward and uncomfortable january. by february, resolutions would prove to have been pointless to make, and around valentine’s day, he would need to admit that to himself, and all in all, the year’s end was as relieving as the end of a college semester: though introductory psychology i was over, and though he was a hell yeah, winter break! kind of excited about that, introductory psychology ii was only three weeks away. a new year didn’t end his struggles or make his pain go away, nor did it bring him happiness or a sense of accomplishment. he didn’t quite feel dread, but he felt ambivalence, boredom; he didn’t see the point of celebrating a hard year, then finding excitement in the uncertainty of a new one.

“i’m glad we don’t have plans,” she said, plating eggs. “i’d really like to stay home.”

“is there something good to watch on netflix?” he asked, unsure of whether he was making conversation or grasping at straws, vulnerability straws, a sense that he needed to know exactly which title in the horror-slash-science-fiction section would be recommended for them based on his recent rewatch of zombeavers and her eye-rolled agreement two weeks earlier that gremlins was, in fact, a christmas movie in order to be the proper man-of-the-house that she’d never asked him to be. 

“i don’t know,” she brushed off. “want to find something while i finish off some work this afternoon?”

in the end, his task had been meaningless, a title intended to keep them up until midnight leading to them both falling asleep fifteen minutes in, and by the time he woke, the television had long ago dulled its screen, and against him on the couch, she slept, her ponytail tickling his arm, her glasses still on. from where he lay, he could just see the time on his watch, an hour past midnight, and uncomfortably, he tensed. they’d missed the changeover, the first minute of a most uncertain year. they’d missed it in the early 2000s, during their separation, a few times because she’d had to work, but they’d never missed it during a new year’s eve spent together. 

should he wake her? he wasn’t sure he saw the point now that the hour had passed, but he found himself floundering in this uncharted territory, this new place where everything was the same though he wanted it to be so different. against his better judgement, he nudged her, whispered her name, and she shifted awake, nestled closer to him on the couch.

“i didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she gave groggily, eyes still closed.

“we missed the new year, scully,” he said anxiously. “we missed it by a whole hour.” 

peeking down at his watch, she admitted, “we did.”

“i didn’t mean to-”

“you owe me a kiss.”

tiredly, she scooted up against his chest, her face coming so close that their noses could almost touch. her glasses started slipping down her nose.

“first one of the year,” she said, a soft smile on her lips. “make it good.”

without thinking, he cupped her cheek for balance, kissed her without poise or grace or anything else that adorned the new year’s kisses of every hallmark movie she let play in the background of their holiday festivities. by the end, he figured her glasses had left a scratch on his cheek, but in the dark, he knew she wouldn’t be able to tell. 

“happy new year, mulder,” she said softly, nestling back into her spot against his chest. “i love you.”

“love you too,” he gave, and when she managed to fall back asleep, glasses still on, uncomfortable couch cushions be damned, he figured one awkward kiss an hour after midnight was more than good enough. 

[accidental-ducky]

Cogsworth’s Coming Out

Cogsworth raises his chin as he’d been taught to, turns on his heel, grabs the front of Lumière’s jacket, and yanks him in for a sound kiss on the lips. It was confident and all the things Cogsworth wasn’t yet feeling, but then Lumière was returning it just as passionately and he felt a warmth flood through him like he’d never experienced before.

The day Henri Cogsworth finally came out to his wife has become a legend in Villeneuve and a source of motivation for the younger children who witnessed it (“If Cogsworth can come out to the Wicked Witch, then I can give my speech in front of my class”). In fact, it seemed the only person who never talked about it afterwards was the ex-wife herself.

It was a bright day in early July when it happened, Cogsworth blushing a tomato red when his irritating (dear) friend pressed a loud smack on Cogsworth’s cheek right in the middle of a coffee shop. Lumière had seen nothing wrong with the gesture, always an overly affectionate type when it came to the people he cared about. Cogsworth happened to be the exact opposite, his mustache twitching as he fought back a tirade full of reasons why the blond should keep his hands (and lips) to himself.

Unfortunately, the top of that tirade was the fact that Cogsworth craved those kisses more each and every time he received one.

He couldn’t help it, tried to fight those urges since he was married, but it was growing impossible. Not only did he have Lumière leaning against him and planting those damnable kisses against his cheeks, he also had the beautiful Plumette doing the very same thing. It wasn’t fair! How was any person supposed to remain loyal to a woman they haven’t loved in over twenty years, let alone one that viewed affection of any type as tiresome? Cogsworth felt as though his mind would explode from the conundrum soon.

He sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out slowly, turning his gaze towards the window instead of lingering on the way the sunlight turned Lumière’s hair golden or the way Plumette was giving him one of those smiles that made everything pale in comparison. And once again, the planets seemed to have aligned to curse his day because, waiting for him just outside the window he was seated next to, Stanley and LeFou were laughing about something and their baby girl was spinning to make the skirt of her dress fan out around her.

Damn happy couples.

Just one break, that’s all he wanted, one measly break where these feelings didn’t have him all turned around. Was it too much to ask for in the long run? For crying out loud, he spent ten years as a clock, fought in a battle against people that were three times his size, and had waddled his way up several flights of stairs only to be told that his young master wouldn’t participate in the actual fighting. The least God could do was either make these feelings go away or let his wife be chased out of town by an angry mob. Then again, the last angry mob was defeated by a bunch of sentient furniture, so maybe not.

He turns again and is startled when Plumette reaches out to capture his hands in hers, that breathtaking smile aimed his way. When he looks back a few years down the road, he realizes that this was the moment when his life began to change and regained that sense of self that he had lost the day after his marriage. Because, in that moment, Lumière wrapped a strong arm about his shoulders and Cogsworth felt his grasp on control slip.

“That’s it,” he nearly shouts, scooting forcibly until his friend falls from the booth. “I’ve had it!”

“Had what,” Lumière asks incredulously. “Where are you going, mon ami?”

“To end this blasted marriage once and for all!” Cogsworth storms out of the coffee shop with his hands fisted at his sides and arms pumping furiously as he went. His friends come chasing after him and he can hear a murmured conversation between the pair and the Beaumont family.

“I gotta see this,” he heard LeFou shout soon afterwards. “This is the most exciting thing that’s happened around here since Mo said his first word!” Cogsworth’s lips twitch in a grin that he was attempting to stifle, remembering the Prince’s face when his son had pointed right at him and proudly proclaimed him to be an avocado. It had been LeFou’s fault and Belle had taken to calling Adam an avocado at law for an entire month after the incident. The young master still blushed whenever he heard the word.

As he makes his way through the village, a crowd began to gather behind him as the others explained what was going on. By the time he actually made it to his wife’s place of business—a clothing boutique run by Stanley’s own younger sister—only a few members of the crowd could actually fit inside and, even then, Elise Beaumont’s glare was enough to have several of those people backing out again.

“What’s goin’ on,” the blonde demands, hands on her hips. She didn’t take well to any kind of negative attention when it came to her store (that was drilled into everyone’s head after she smacked a sexist customer with a very thick dictionary).

“I need to have an important conversation with my…” He trails off a moment as his blue eyes land on the thin, gangly woman currently holding an armful of homemade trousers. “….Wife. Is that quite alright, Miss Beaumont?” Elise looks to Clothilde first, then shrugs at the older woman’s curt nod.

“Make it quick or I’ll sic my niece on you.” She picks said little girl up a moment later, the three year old fitting snuggly on her hip. It’s then that Cogsworth notices Lumière, Plumette, Stanley, and LeFou were standing a few feet away just inside the store and half the village were waiting outside with the royal family pressing their noses against the glass of the door. So much for those etiquette lessons I gave the Adam. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the gazes burning holes in his back, he faces the woman he’s been married to for God only knows how long at this point.

“Clothilde, what are your feelings towards me?”

“You’re my husband,” she says, brows furrowed.

“Yes, but how do you feel? Do you even love me?”

“Would I have married you if I didn’t love you? What’s all this about and why is the Prince’s breath fogging up the door I’ve just washed?” She sends a pointed glare at the young man, but it doesn’t hold a candle to Beatrice Pott’s.

“I used to love you, used to think you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” She puffs up like a proud peacock, and he was able to catch a glance of the smiling girl he used to know. That was long before the Curse was cast, back when their worries were less and pre-sliced bread was never thought of. “But then you showed your true colors a few weeks afterwards, I learned you’d married me because of my position in the castle. I didn’t want to believe it at first, Clothilde, but you remained callous even after I became human again.”

“That’s not—”

“Please let me finish while I have the nerve to do so. You are abusive to children, you look down on our sweet Princess, and just yesterday I heard you calling Plumette a strumpet under your breath.” There’s an audible gasp and then he could hear the sounds of Stanley and LeFou attempted to hold back Cogsworth’s friends. “Insulting my friends is where I draw the line! I want a divorce and I want it right this minute!”

“And who do you think will put up with you like I have all these years, Henri,” she demands, hands on her hips. “You’re pompous, arrogant, and you have the largest stick I’ve ever seen surgically embedded in your backside.” She looked pleased with herself now, like she had won some kind of battle. Cogsworth raises his chin as he’d been taught to, turns on his heel, grabs the front of Lumière’s jacket, and yanks him in for a sound kiss on the lips. It was confident and all the things Cogsworth wasn’t yet feeling, but then Lumière was returning it just as passionately and he felt a warmth flood through him like he’d never experienced before.

He was panting when he pulled Plumette for the same treatment, the younger woman pressing her warm palms against his cheeks, a reassuring, grounding touch as he worked through the initial fear of rejection and embarrassment. Cogsworth wasn’t the type to cause a spectacle, but this one had been a long time in coming. When he pulls back again, panting as his two friends stand protectively on either side of him, he’s able to make out the mortified expression on Clothilde’s face.

“Well now,” Plumette states with a devilish smile,” I think that answers your question, Madame.”

“Yes,” Lumière states with a firm nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I believe I’ll treat my boyfriend and girlfriend to some lunch.” Lumière turns with a hair flip and leads the way outside, the crowd parting like the Red Sea did for Moses as they passed. “I knew you’d come around if I gave you enough hints.”

And, for the first time in years, Cogsworth grinned for all to see when he felt two arms looped around his waist.

[startrek-z]

STZ V: Part 7

There was a quiet knocking at the door. He didn’t open his eyes just yet, still dazed and half asleep. His body felt heavy and relaxed; part of him doubted he was capable of movement. The sound of footsteps told him his roommate was back, and going to answer the door. “Is Link here? I heard about–” “Shh, he’s asleep,” Jeremy muttered in a hushed voice.

Melissa’s voice continued, though in a quieter tone. “I heard about what happened. Is he  alright?” “Think so. I mean, they didn’t keep him, so…” “Well,” Melissa’s voice trailed awkwardly. “It’s just about dinner time; do you suppose we should wake him up?” There was a pause. “…nah; I’d hate to wake him up now. This is probably the most sleep I’ve seen him get all semester.” Link smiled wanly at that–he was probably afraid of getting hit again, too. He heard the door close, and silence enveloped the room. He opened his eyes a little, still feeling groggy, and blinked in shock at the digital clock beside his bed; he’d been asleep for a solid seven hours. After a moment he rolled over onto his back and blinked drowsily up at the ceiling. “I should get my assignments done,” he thought out loud, before forcing himself to sit up and get out of bed. He slipped a baggy sweater on over his bare chest, band sat down to work. His focus started to wander about an hour into his Warp Physics assignment. Eventually he zoned out completely, his mind blank as he doodled on a spare sheet in his notebook. “Wow, you’re good,” said a voice from behind. The Hylian jumped about a foot in the air, his heart beating painfully in his chest through his fright. He felt as though he’d been woken up from a deep sleep; just how long had he been spaced out like that? “Sorry man, didn’t mean to scare you,” Jeremy apologized, though he was grinning with amusement. Link sat back, taking deep breath to calm his racing heart. Meanwhile he glanced down at his notebook, surprised at the detailed sketches littering the page. A rather accurate picture of the Master Sword ran down the center, and on either side of it, randomly placed sketches of Kokiri, Zora, Gorons, and random objects flooded the paper. “I didn’t know you could draw,” Jeremy remarked, staring down at the pictures as well. “Neither did I …” Link murmured in awe. Jeremy filled Link in on what he had missed, before the Hylian settled and finished his work. Link yawned and moved to get back into bed, but hesitated. Should he take another pill? Dr. Tam had said only one–did he mean one at a time, or once a day? After thinking it over, the Hylian decided it would be alright. Being awake meant that the first one should’ve worn off, so taking another for the night shouldn’t hurt. With that in mind, he swallowed the medication and crawled back into bed, looking forward to a full night of sleep. *** Much to the Link’s dismay, the news of his “episode” had spread like fire through the academy. The following day of classes was utter torture, and his better-than-average hearing didn’t help. He heard all sorts of rumors being passed between peers as he walked by. As much as he wanted to explain what had really happened, he kept his mouth shut. Self defense class was the worst. Though he felt more alert and focused, he couldn’t help but notice the weary glances he got from his fellow cadets. He even caught the instructor watching him a bit closer than normal. The class seemed to drag longer than usual, and he was beyond relieved when it finally ended. “No worries, man. Vacation’s in a bit–after that, no one will remember,” Jeremy   reassured him that night at dinner. Link nodded a little, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Here’s hoping I can last that long,” he muttered, only half serious. Jeremy grinned; it seemed his roommate was finally coming around. “Actually,” Link continued, “When is vacation?”  The human paused to think. “Let me see…this is the seventh week right? So that means our first break is in…” he started to count on his fingers, “Three…No. Four more weeks…I think.”   Link groaned. “That’s forever!” he sighed, “Are they really gonna talk about it for that long?!”     Jeremy laughed. “Probably. But I wouldn’t  freak out over it. I’m sure someone else will do something even more weird or stupid before then, and everyone will forget about your little…episode.” He gave his roommate an encouraging smile.   “I hope your right.” The Hylian murmured softly.  “So what are you gonna  do for break? Got somewhere special to go or see?” Jeremy asked giving him a playful nudge and a wink.   “Er..no,” Link replied a bit confused by his roommate’s weird behavior. “What do you mean ‘go’?” “ Oh, the campus closes for a couple of weeks and all us cadets get to go home for a while. You know to see the folks and all that good stuff.”   Link flinched. He wasn’t like the other cadets, he didn’t have a home left to go back too. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do!?’ he wondered. ‘Where can I go?’   The human watched the Hylian’s face with curiosity and kind of guessed at his thoughts. “Don’t worry about it man, you’ve got plenty of time figure out what you want to do. Hey, worst come worst you can come and stay back in old Dakota with me; my folks won’t care.” He shrugged and game him an evil smile.    “Thanks Jeremy,” the other boy smiled back, “I might have to take you up on that offer…” ‘At least I have someplace to go,’ Link mused, but he really didn’t want to take Jeremy’s offer. He feared becoming a burden and risking the loss of his only 'friend’ at the academy.   Uncannily the human boy grinned again and said, “What are friends for?”   Link only continued to smile at him. ‘I wouldn’t know,’ he thought sullenly, ‘or at least I didn’t until I met you…and I’m still not all that sure about it.’                                 ***    The rest of the week went by quickly, and Link was finding that thanks to the pills and the wonderful sleep they brought him, he was doing better in all his classes and even beginning to enjoy a select few.    Sometimes it still puzzled him why he had to take that class in Astrobotany; it had nothing to do with fighting or security protocols. The hand to hand class and the one on the history of weapons-which he had found most interesting and had written the highest scoring paper in the class- those made sense for him to learn. But plants? That was a Sulu thing and he really wanted nothing to do with it! How it would serve him later on in his career he hadn’t the slightest clue, but when he had complained to Jeremy his roommate had given him a knowing look and only said, “All information can potentially be used to save the lives of your men…or even yourself.” But that just sounded like claptrap the human had heard in some command class and Link felt it was an inadequate answer.    Of course Friday’s last class had to be a self defense class, the second and last one of the week, and as was common now he felt the eyes of the other cadets on him constantly, and those of the Commander as well. It seemed like she would never stop glancing over at him as he and his partner pantomimed their sets. Her expression… well it was hard to tell what exactly  her gaze said, but to Link it seemed like pity there on her normally blank face, and it bothered him more than anything else.       After class he was in a foul mood and he stalked back silently to his room and flopped down on his bed violently. Jeremy looked up from his books, he had been at a special seminar for command candidates and had missed the self defense class. “Was it still that bad?” he asked.   “Yes,” Link muttered. “They all stared at me again…and the Commander won’t stop looking at me weird.”    The human rested his chin on his hand and appraised his friend. “Remember what I said, they’ll all forget about it eventually…”   The Hylian sighed deeply; he was starting to doubt they ever would.     “You know what, lets go out tomorrow,” the human suggested. “…pardon?” the other asked, misinterpreting.   “Oh come on man! Grow up!” Jeremy groaned, “Tomorrows Saturday right?”    “Yeah.”     “So…lets go and bum around the city for the day. I mean San Francisco is a really cool place. There’s China Town and The Hill and I’ve always wanted to see the historic Wharf district…you know down where they still fish in boats like from the 1800’s?”   Link smiled despite himself. ‘you know Jeremy you could have been a decent sales man…you can sell just about anything,’ The humans excitement was infectious. “Alright…It sounds like fun I guess. Sulu did mention that the restaurants in China Town were good.”   “Awesome!”  Jeremy exclaimed. “This will be fun I promise!” He was practically dancing around the room.   “Gee, I had no idea it meant so much to you,” Link laughed watching his antics. He had to admit a day on the town might be good to help him escape from all the stares of class mates and the monotony of day to day Academy living. Besides, how could he not  have fun with Jeremy? Fun was his middle name, or so he claimed. *** “You sure you’re not still hungry?” Jeremy asked for maybe the fourth time that evening. The day had been a success, as far as the human was concerned. As the day had gone on, his friend seemed to have come around a little. He’d even been sure that the boy had truly smiled on several occasions. But come dinner, Link had eaten little more than a measly appetizer before stating that he was full and refusing to eat any more. “Yes, I’m sure…thanks anyway,” Link reassured calmly. Now, as the stars began appearing in the sky, the Hylian had seemed to descend back into his depressingly solemn and quiet behavior. It was starting to worry him. They’d been walking in silence for quarter of an hour, heading for the academy, when Link suddenly stopped, listening. Jeremy paused and gave his friend a questioning look. “What is it?” he asked. The other boy didn’t answer. Sapphire eyes gazed into a darkened alleyway to their right. Jeremy watched perplexed as Link started walking towards it. “Link?” His only reply was a raised hand, a gesture for silence. Jeremy continued to watch uneasily as his friend disappeared into the shadows. After a few moments, he started to take uncertain steps towards the alley. “Hey, c’mon man…this isn’t funny.” “It’s not really supposed to be,” replied a somewhat amused voice. The Hylian came back into the light, a black form cradled in his arms. “Dude, what is that…?” Jeremy asked. The creature turned its head toward him, ears perking forward. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Link asked, holding out the cat a little for the human to see. “She must be a stray, she’s kind of underweight, and she doesn’t have a collar.” Jeremy eyed it uncertainly. “Yeah, yeah…put it back and let’s go home.” “She’s coming with us,” Link said. “What? Link, are you nuts? You know animals are against the academy regulations!” The Hylian sighed, looking down at the feline. “Captain Kirk didn’t really give a damn about the rules, from my understanding.” Jeremy had no reply for that. He stared, wanting to argue, but his desire to be like his idol prevented him from doing so. The longer he stalled, the more he noticed the light in his roommate’s eyes. Link looked genuinely happy holding the creature close to his chest, gently scratching beneath its chin. The unusual display of affection tipped the scales. “Alright, alright…but if anyone even suspects what’s going on, it goes!” “Agreed,” Link said, smiling as he continued to spoil the filthy feline. Smudges of black had already been smeared on the Hylian’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. Thankfully, the academy was fairly quiet by the time they got back. After making a stop at the local pet store, the pair carefully smuggled in everything they’d brought back that night. They managed to make it into their room without being seen. “Could you set up the litter box, Jeremy? I’m gonna try and get her cleaned up,” Link said quietly. “Um, sure…” About a half hour later, Jeremy had finished setting everything up, from the litter box to the food dish and a scratching post, just in time to watch Link come out from the bathroom holding a very white cat. “Damn, and I thought it was black,” he murmured in surprise. “I know…she was filthy,” Link agreed, still rubbing a dry towel over the feline’s short fur. She was completely white, save for a few scattered black spots and the black tip on her tail. “What are you gonna name it?” the human asked. “Don’t know yet,” Link replied thoughtfully. He couldn’t see to settle on a name for the feline. Most of the names that came to mind were from his past…people from Hyrule, but he was hesitant to create such a lasting reminder. Jeremy watched his roommate curiously. He could almost see the clouds of thought rolling through the boy’s eyes. Why was he being so hesitant? “I’ll just have to sleep on it,” Link announced, setting the cat down as he went to straighten his bed. “It’s getting late, anyways,” he stated quietly, before swallowing one of the pills. In minutes he was passed out under the covers, and Jeremy could only shake his head in fond exasperation as the newest addition to their room curled up against the Hylian’s chest to sleep as well.

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[insiderlinuxtk-blog]

Google's first phone makes Siri look trivial

Android has dependably been a wreck.

Its most noteworthy quality — the openness and capacity for any telephone creator to uninhibitedly receive and adjust the product — is additionally its most noteworthy shortcoming. It has brought on fracture, spotty or missed updates, and significant security concerns. After such a long time, the organizations that make Android telephones have hinted at no tidying things up.

So Google chose to settle the catastrophe it made.

The Pixel, the primary cell phone outlined by Google starting from the earliest stage, is the counteractant to the vast majority of Android's issues. The telephone, which begins at $649 and goes at a bargain this week, highlights Google's aspiration to reclaim control of Android lastly demonstrate it can be a streamlined and simple to-utilize stage.

Furthermore, it worked.

The Pixel is a magnificent telephone, and it's what Android ought to have been from the earliest starting point. Google has at last made sense of that it's not quite recently enough to make extraordinary programming. You likewise need to combine it with brilliant equipment. Yes, that ought to be self-evident. Furthermore, yes, that has been Apple's logic for a considerable length of time. In any case, it's reality.

Google additionally has a noteworthy preferred standpoint over Apple. It has dependably been exceptional at programming and administrations, and nothing demonstrates that more than Google Assistant, the new computerized partner that lives inside the Pixel and future Google-made items like the Google Home speaker.

The Pixel telephone is an essence of a future in which equipment matters less and the counterfeit consciousness that forces it outweighs everything else. Furthermore, nobody is better situated to exploit that future right now than Google.

'Alright Google, when's my next flight?'

The new Google Assistant capacities a considerable measure like Siri. Tap and hold the home catch, and the Assistant flies up to ask what you require.

Google Assistant pulls data from all that you do in Google's administrations, from Search to Gmail to Calendar to Photos. The more Google administrations you utilize, the better Assistant progresses toward becoming at helping you.

My most loved case in the course of recent days: I asked Assistant when my next flight was and it gave me the appropriate response, finish with the Delta flight number and booked departure time. I never enlightened Google concerning my flight. It just knew in light of the affirmation email Delta sent me when I booked.

That is only one small illustration, yet it's a vital one. Right hand is sufficiently keen to comprehend setting over an assortment of administrations to get you that one thing you need. It's stunning and supernatural when it works, and it's quite recently the initial phase in Google's aspiration to make a customized Google for everybody. It's not there yet, but rather subsequent to going through a couple days with Assistant and the Pixel, I can advise Google is better prepared to make AI work for clients than whatever other organization.

Aide's abilities are so expansive and differed that it's difficult to show them all here. I haven't verged on opening everything Assistant can do, yet I was routinely astounded at whatever point I concocted something new to inquire.

Pull up the photographs I took from my most recent excursion to San Francisco. Done. Give me the speediest course home. Done. Remind me to visit with my manager when I get the chance to work tomorrow. Done. Play that Calvin Harris and Rihanna melody. Done.

At that point there's the capacity to take advantage of Google's endless learning of the web and convey answers to the inquiries you inquire. What time is the following presidential open deliberation? Did the Jets win? Are there any great ramen eateries close me, and would I be able to get a reservation?

I could continue forever, however you likely get the thought. Google has several billions of answers signed into its framework, and it can pull considerably more from trusted sources like Wikipedia if it's puzzled. It's quite often ready to get you what you're searching for, however I experienced some uncommon cases in which it would pull up a standard rundown of Google query items.

What's more, when you couple Assistant with Google Now, Google's proactive aide that conveys data and alarms in view of what Google thinks about you, the Pixel transforms into something other than a telephone that reacts to your swipes and taps. The Pixel is continually working for you, conveying what you need before you even know you need it.

Apple ought to be humiliated that Siri, which had a five-year head begin on Google Assistant, is no place close as fit.

Still, there were a few defects with Assistant. It could send messages and instant messages however couldn't read ones sent to me (a component that ought to come soon). It likewise couldn't disclose to me when my next Amazon request was relied upon to arrive, despite the fact that that data showed up in Google Now. Those things can without much of a stretch be settled after some time, and Assistant will keep on getting more brilliant and learn new abilities the more individuals utilize it.

There are likewise some undeniable security concerns. Right hand is so great since it knows such a great amount about you. So you have to a released a bit of yourself and have an abnormal state of trust that Google won't abuse or mishandle all that individual data that makes Assistant work so well. It will probably frighten away a few people, and I don't reprimand them for it. However, for me, it's a reasonable cost to pay for an apparatus that makes my life so substantially less demanding.

Android culminated

The other advantage to the Pixel is Android. This isn't the changed Android you've encountered on telephones from Samsung or LG. It's "immaculate" Android, conveyed the way Google planned it. What's more, it's outrageously great.

This most recent adaptation is called Nougat, and it brandishes a perfect plan and all the standard elements you'd anticipate from a top of the line telephone.

Be that as it may, the genuine reward is that Pixel will be the main telephone that gets new forms of Android when they are accessible. That is practically inconceivable for Android gadgets. Indeed, even the Nexus telephones Google has helped different makers create throughout the years have attempted to convey auspicious updates.

The Pixel accompanies the guarantee that you are purchasing a telephone that will keep on improving after some time. It's one of the greatest things keeping clients bolted into the iPhone, and it's invigorating to see that at last come to Android. Finally, Android at long last feels comparable to iOS. The following incredible test will be to extend that logic to whatever is left of the Android biological community, however I'm not extremely hopeful that can happen. Starting now and into the foreseeable future, in the event that you need the best of Android, your most logical option will be to purchase a telephone straight from Google.

Simply one more telephone

The equipment is effortlessly the slightest energizing part about the Pixel. Everything here is entirely standard. It comes in two sizes, one with a 5-inch screen and a "XL" display with a 5.5-inch screen. There's a unique finger impression sensor, a super-sharp screen, quick charging (in the event that you utilize the included divider plug), and a standard earphone jack.

That doesn't make the equipment awful. It just demonstrates that the genuine draw of the Pixel originates from the product.

In any case, the Pixel is missing two components that are getting to be plainly standard in premium telephones: remote charging and water resistance. Nor is an absolute necessity have, yet in the event that Google is making you pay this much for a telephone, it would have been pleasant to incorporate something to that effect.

The outline is additionally shockingly like that of the iPhone 7, to such an extent that one of my partners thought I had two iPhones sitting around my work area when he took a fast look. It's additionally discernibly thicker, which is likely why Google could boast that the Pixel doesn't have an unattractive camera knock.

That is the really disillusioning thing about the Pixel's equipment. The iPhone 7 configuration as of now feels dated, and it's much more terrible that Google acquired so intensely from it. I would have gotten a kick out of the chance to see some innovativeness outline savvy.

All things considered, the camera stands out. I'm not sufficiently sure to back Google's claim that the Pixel has the best cell phone camera ever, however it's certainly up there. Similarly as with everything about the Pixel, some additional AI is incorporated with the camera, for this situation to help you locate the absolute best when you take a few in succession. You won't be disillusioned.

Shockingly better: Google will give you boundless capacity for all your high-determination pictures brought with the Pixel, an appreciated treat when Apple gives you just a couple of measly gigs of free iCloud stockpiling.

Conclusion

The Pixel is the best of Android and the best contrasting option to the iPhone. It's additionally only an initial step as Google quickens its equipment desire and considers improvement important interestingly. Google is at last prepared to drive Android forward and do it right, and the Pixel is an astounding begin.

Equipment is simple. Anybody can make a truly decent telephone nowadays and even do it for as little as possible. The genuine test is making the telephone support you through AI and other valuable administrations. The Pixel is evidence Google isn't simply up for that test. It can beat the opposition on the main attempt.