#:: and then they just kept pulling open this door panel thing on the wall there??::

[defunct-disney]

Space Mountain and part of the old people mover track

While a lot of elements of space mountain need a refresh (please Disney update the queue video) I think that the building is so iconic and beautiful… especially since it isn’t the bronze that it was from my childhood (shout out to that weird pseudo-steampunk phase Tomorrowland went through)

The peoplemover track from that angle on the other hand… Something about it makes me think of an old office building or something, it’s probably the windows and the way they are kinda tinted and discolored.

#Tomorrowland #disneyland #defunct #::and also kinda I guess:: #not defunct #peoplemover #peoplemover track #space mountain #defunct photopass #::also fun fact when I took these photos there were kids in that center helipad area:: #:: that were just allowed to run around by their parents and they were climbing on the planters:: #:: and then they just kept pulling open this door panel thing on the wall there??:: #::and their parents didn’t stop them??? it was wild::

[blindmagdalena]

The Drug In Me Is You

18+ 3.2k vampire!homelander x supe f!reader. dacryphilia, noncon, p-in-v, blood drinking, possessive homelander, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac, cunnilingus, fingering, kidnapping, reader is held captive, gaslighting, abuse. dead dove!

Ever since Homelander got his cold dead hands on you, you've been the answer to his every prayer. You exist solely for him, kept safe in his home, delicious to the point where he refuses any blood that isn't yours. He isn't conscious of the extent he's grown to rely on you until the day he comes home to find you gone.

written for Monsterlander Mania! thank you @staarboyyy for the incredible vamplander gif. 🖤

There are few things that Homelander despises more in this world than summer. While the heat doesn’t bother him even beneath the thick layers of his suit, the rest of the world isn’t so lucky.

The meet and greets are by far the worst; a crowded collection of sweaty bodies piling in against one another like directed cattle, stewing in their own filth just long enough to reek of their own humanity by the time they’re touching him with clammy hands.

He’s never more grateful for his suit–especially his gloves–than during these occasions.

On top of that, these sardine can buildings become an echoing cacophony of juicy, throbbing hearts, every single one of them pounding in eager anticipation. Indoor events are better for blocking out the sun, but worse for every other aspect when it comes to his senses.

By the end of the day, his skull is throbbing and his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He needs quiet. He needs home. He needs to eat.

It’s dark by the time he lands on his balcony, the hour late. While he does prefer flying at night, he doesn’t like coming home so late. He tugs off his glove to use the thumbpad, which unlocks his automatic door. Stepping inside, he then hits a switch that triggers his blackout blinds to close behind him alongside the door.

“What a fucking day,” he grouses, making his way to the kitchen. “Twelve hours of this shit. I hate summer,” he says, tossing both of his gloves onto the kitchen counter. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a dark, thick green slurry in a tall lidded cup. It’s packed full of everything he both needs and likes, but perhaps most important is the iron content.

He goes through a fair amount of that.

“But I’m glad I’m home,” he says, carrying both beverages to his bedroom. “Because it looks like someone didn’t drink their shake.”

Homelander stops dead in his tracks, staring blankly at his empty bed. Standing perfectly still, he listens for the familiar cadence of your breath. The beat of your heart. Anything to tell him where the fuck you are. When he hears nothing, he drops the drinks unceremoniously to the floor and spins on his heel, instantly tearing through the penthouse.

He doesn’t smell blood or death, but the thought of you dead seizes him anyways, hurling him instantly into a panic. He scans through every wall and ceiling, but you’re not here. He calls your name, shouting it down each hall, but he’s met only with the reverberations of his own distraught voice.

At the front door, Homelander moves to input the code to open it, but halts abruptly. The panel is green. It hasn’t locked. Pulling it open, a thin piece of plastic falls away from the mechanism. It had been blocking the lock from securing.

Wednesday is grocery day, he recalls distantly. A staff member came to restock the fridge. They must have had the door propped open, and you…

Left. 

You left.

Homelander rips the door open, nearly yanking it off the hinges, and storms down the hall, fangs bared. You must have waited until it was late and the guard presence was scarce, otherwise someone would have reported you. You can’t have gone far.

When Vought realized that the continued development of Homelander’s powers came with a particular quirk that necessitated the consumption of human blood, they began the process of ensuring he always had a steady supply to keep him from eating his adoring fans. He never really cared about where the blood came from until he tasted yours.

Yours was special. It did something no one else’s ever had; it made him feel alive. He could taste the world in ways he never could before, and if he drank enough, he swore he could feel his heart start to beat. None of the scientists knew why. It didn’t matter to him. From that point on, he wasn’t interested in drinking from anyone other than you.

That was when he decided to keep you close at hand. Cut out the middleman.

You belong to him, and you have for months. He’s taken the utmost care of you, ensuring that you could have everything you need within the confines of his penthouse. The finest foods, every form of entertainment one could dream of, exquisite service at your fingertips and most compellingly of all, the love and adoration of the world’s greatest hero.  

So why the fuck would you leave?

Homelander rips through the tower. He’s furious, wounded and hungry. Those few security guards smart enough to get out of his way evade his rampage while a couple of unlucky ones wind up with their own personal craters in various walls.

He can smell the intoxicating allure of you trailing a path through the halls, but the combination of his hunger and his rage makes following it disorienting. He’s in no condition to hunt–he’s become sickeningly complacent in your time together, more reliant on you than he ever would have admitted freely. He’s grown to love the wait, letting himself feel his hunger so that you taste all the sweeter on his tongue.

Now the churn of it in his gut burns like fire.

Nevertheless, he is relentless, and within minutes he finds you in the garden just outside the tower, locked in by looming steel gates. You aren’t even properly dressed, garbed only in the thin loungewear he keeps you in, barefoot and combing your fingers through a tall hedge full of flowers just beginning to wither, their pink petals curled and browning.

You don’t even notice him until he’s upon you, snatching your wrist and whirling you around so sharply, the hedge behind you drops its wilting petals in a flurry. He must be a fearsome sight if your expression is anything to go by, your eyes wide and panicstricken.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hisses through his teeth, fangs fully protracted. You take a breath to speak, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He jostles you by your shoulders to cut you off, fingers biting into your arms.  “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

Your pulse is racing. He can hear it, feel it in your wrist beneath his thumb. The sound of it is nearly enough to throw him to the ground, to shred the thin veneer of humanity he wears and give in to the bloodlust. His thumbnail tilts ever so slightly, biting a crescent mark into the supple flesh of your wrist. Never have you felt more tender in his hands. Never has he come so close to tearing you apart.

One slip, and you would be spilling red all over his tongue. 

“I just–” you begin, but he pulls you sharply up into his arms, seething so furiously that he can’t stand to hear you speak. He’s too far gone. Too fucking hungry.

“We’ll talk at home,” he grits out, and with a sonic boom that rips the remaining blossoms from the hedge in a flurry, he launches into the sky, purposefully flying too fast to allow for conversation. He holds you to his chest as tightly as he dares, landing back on his balcony with a thud. He uses the thumbpad and damn near tears the door off the hinges pulling it open. 

Homelander doesn’t have time to waste. You bounce a few times with the way he drops you onto the bed. Glancing up, he catches sight of himself in the myriad of mirrors. No wonder you looked at him the way you did. He looks crazed, lips parted around his fangs, his usual bright blue eyes shining pure crimson.  

It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything will be fine after this.

You scramble up the bed, moving backwards on your hands, but he catches you by the ankle and yanks you back down it, climbing on top of you with a frustrated noise that fades off into a sigh. “Y’see what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and frayed. You yelp when he rips your shirt clean apart, exposing your top half completely.  Your skin is adorned beautifully with the history of your night.

You bruise easily for a supe. Your blood just loves to rush to the surface for him, vessels full and bursting under his grip. The memory of inflicting these marks is so intoxicating that even in his frenzy he can’t help but lean down and drag his tongue over one of the bruises that mottle the pretty skin of your chest. Under his tongue, you feel like ripe fruit yearning to be bitten into.

“Please, Homelander, stop,” you plead prettily. He can hear your tears in the tremble of your voice, practically taste the salt in the air.

Good, he thinks viciously. Cry. Regret. Never do this to me again.

“Played a dangerous game tonight, sweetheart,” he tells you, that pet name dripping with affection and venom in equal measure. He forces your legs apart and settles between them, tearing what little clothing remains on your body like paper and tossing it aside. He presses his palms down against your thighs, and the heat of you compared to the chill of his fingers nearly burns. He pushes your legs up and apart, soaking in the sweet smell of your cunt.

Sex and feeding have always gone hand in hand for Homelander. Vought tried for years to satiate him with plastic blood bags and artificial alternatives, but it never fed him the way a meal he could fuck does. Still, all of them paled in comparison to you. Your inner thighs are a mixture of both new and faded punctures that dot your body in matching pairs, scars that he hopes never fade. They mark you as his.

Neither of you will ever settle for another ever again. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, please–please let me explain,” you weep, trying to squirm out of his grasp. With a predatory growl he yanks you back into place, unwilling to listen.

The hunger is driving him to madness. He can feel your pulse like it’s his own, the sound of it thundering in his ears until it threatens to split his skull in half. His nails bite into your skin while he leans in, deaf to your begging as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth wide, sinking his fangs into the soft, succulent meat of your inner thigh.

Your blood spills into his mouth like rich ambrosia. He moans loudly, losing himself to the taste and the heat. Your blood is transcendent, going beyond nourishment. Your pulse reminds his heart to beat. The more he drinks, the more the warmth of you fills his frigid body, thawing out his sanity alongside it. Your heat courses steadily through him, the fervor of it vanishing that nauseating pound from his skull until the only throb he’s left with is the one between his legs.

He sucks in a wet breath when he breaks away from you, panting his delirious pleasure. There’s nothing in this world than the high that comes after being satiated from a frenzy. It’s like he’s floating, his tongue and throat tingling with your sweet nectar.

He isn’t the only one tingling. He can smell the heady musk of your arousal. Your fearful tears are no match for the effect his bite has on your body, how his saliva mingles with your blood and makes you ache for him.

Without his hunger deafening him to the world, he can focus again. He takes a moment to lap at where he’s bitten you, cleaning up the blood that dripped from the wounds. He trails his blood-warmed tongue inward, far from placated. 

He pins your thighs down flush to the bed and nestles into the sweet core of you, plunging his tongue eagerly into your cunt. Your body jolts, but he holds you steady, eagerly swirling his tongue, collecting the taste of you to drink down. He sucks hungrily at your clit, pulling off of it with wet little pops, kissing and licking and sucking until you’re writhing beneath him for all the right reasons.

Devouring you like this is working him back up into a different kind of frenzy. He slips one finger into you, then two, mouthing your clit while he fucks you with his fingers, coaxing more and more from you. Your walls feel so fucking soft and velvety around his fingers, and his need to feel you quivering around his cock is rapidly outpacing his hunger for the taste of your cunt. With one last deep plunge of his tongue, he lifts himself over you, reaching down to hurriedly unclasp his belt, staring down at you with lust glazed eyes.

You’re a mess. Your whole body is flushed with heat, and you’ve barely stopped moaning since he bit you. He’s heard the effects of his bite described like a fever, a delirious experience that robs you of your senses and leaves you desperate for more, for anything of him. Even so, you haven’t stopped crying. It makes you look sweet. Vulnerable. Fucking delicious.

“Mmm, you’re pretty when you cry, baby,” he says, running his tongue along his teeth, over the sharp juts of his fangs. He gets his cock free and adjusts himself between your legs, laying over you. “This your way of saying sorry? Because it’s working,” he tells you, bracing one hand on the bed next to you while he uses the other to hold the base of his cock, dragging the head of it up and down through the wet mess of your pretty pussy lips. “Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart. Be good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, nuzzling at your throat.

Opening his mouth, Homelander bites into your neck at the same time he thrusts forward, letting out a muffled, ragged moan as he sinks into you on both fronts, shuddering with how fucking good it feels, tight and wet and hot as sin. Between that and the fresh rush of your blood down his throat, he ascends to a state of goddamn euphoria.

You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a moan. He drinks you up, savors the sound of you as much as he does the taste. He snaps his hips, wastes no time fucking you deep, holding you still with the lock of his jaw while he pounds you into the mattress.

“Oh, ffffuck,” he groans, lips bloodied. He laps at the blood on your neck, the sound of it as wet as his cock hammering your cunt with the relentlessness of a machine, utterly inhuman in the way he takes you. “So good to me, aren’t you? Feeding me, taking me. Mmm, fuck, m’close,” he says, nuzzling at your skin, enamored with the warmth of you.

With the ravenous insanity of his bloodlust fading, his thrusts become less brutal. He hikes your thigh over his hip and holds it there, sliding into a rhythm that’s something closer to making love. Your cunt quivers all around him, and by the noises you’re making he knows you’re electrified, out of your mind with the haze of pleasure that his bite induces. “M’gonna take care of you, too. You know that, don’t you? Yeah, y’do, and you won’t ever fucking leave me again. Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he pants, mouthing at the shell of your ear.

It’s a lie. He knows what he would do. He would punish any world that dared take you from him. The thought alone would be enough to enrage him all over were he not so deeply soothed by your iron on his tongue and your soft body giving into him. If he had breath to give, it would be stolen by the way you seize up against him, orgasm taking hold of you like a possession, capturing your voice and rolling your eyes heavenward.

This is love. This undying hunger, this obsessive compulsion to keep you close. He craves you not just for the ambrosial taste of your blood, but for your soft lips against his and the timbre of your voice. He brought you into his life to satiate his bloodlust, but never could he have fathomed the greater emptiness that you would fill. Knowing you were here waiting for him has made him understand for the first time in his life what it means to come home.

He’ll ruin you before he loses you.

Homelander comes with a low, wrecked moan, kissing you fervently as he stops to empty himself into you as deeply as possible, forehead pressed to yours.

You’re panting, letting out pitchy little wisps of sound with every breath. He gently kisses them from your lips, hushing you. “S’alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, licking the salt of your tears from his lips. He cups the other side of your face and strokes it with his thumb. You’re shaking all over. He slips an arm around you to draw you close, to comfort you as you come down from your high. “Ssshhhh. Everything’s alright. M’right here, and I love you.”

That wrings a tight little sob out of you. He smiles, dazed on his own lingering ecstasy. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “Can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, wandering alone in the dark like that,” he says, stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Just happy I found you before anything happened to you.”

What if someone else had found you like that? Confused and vulnerable. He would have found you eventually, but had anyone been unlucky enough to lay their hands on you before then, they wouldn’t have hands for much longer. He kisses you again, firmer, possessive. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Gingerly, he slips from the wet heat of your body and adjusts himself, getting you both situated under the covers. He spends a while soothing you, rubbing your back while you lay in his arms, kissing the top of your head every so often.

“You alright?” He asks eventually. You aren’t shaking anymore, but you haven’t said a word. It makes him a touch… anxious.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not very convincing, but he wants to believe it enough that he accepts the answer anyways.

“Good,” he purrs, slipping his hand over the back of your neck. His fingertips brush your menagerie of scars, each bite a reminder of how thoroughly you have allowed him to love you. “That’s my good girl. I love you,” he says with a smile, tipping your head back to kiss your lips.

He waits.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I love you, too,” you finally respond.

His smile broadens. He draws you closer to him, listening to the lively thrum of your body. You are the warmth in his own veins, the beat of his heart.  This, too, is love. Kissed lips, bitten limbs, hungering teeth and bodies intertwined. It’s sweeter than anything he has ever known. The need in him is a monstrous thing, he knows. He hadn’t known how monstrous it was until he thought–even for a moment–that he’d lost you.

It won’t happen again.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #terato #vampire x reader #monster romance #monster x human #it's late af but i FINALLY wrote vamplander!!!! special shoutout to non and calli for helping me with this one #my writing #dark fic

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.3 K Warnings: ANGST! Prompt: Vixen tries to survive in the snow while Remus desperatly tries to find her. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 46: Comfortably Numb

Well, hold on, my darling This mess was yours Now your mess is mine

You had woken up hastily after seeing Nina, your eyes snapping open in hopes she really was there, but there was no one, just more snow, gently falling on top of the white layer already covering most of the fields. Your eyes started to close again until you felt something on your nose, you opened your eyes only to see a blue butterfly. 

But here? In the snow? You wondered as you saw its wings bat desperate, tired, and cold. You could feel the crisp taping of paper-like, frozen delicate things against your cheek and lashes, urging you to open your eyes back up, to wake up and fight. 

You moved your hand towards your face and the butterfly gingerly jumped to your finger, “You must be cold,” you whispered. You felt cold too, although it wasn’t as cold as before. In truth you were so tired and numb, you barely registered how cold it was until you felt her wings flapping against your cheeks. 

“If I had my wand I could make us a fire,” you said, “but that was taken away from me, to help someone who helped me get here… You can stay by me if you want…” you added as you let your hand fall on your lap carefully. The small butterfly flapped their wings again, desperate to get your attention. 

“Not warm enough, is it?” You asked and sighed. “I’ll try to get us there then,” you said as you pointed at the shack, you knew it would be warm. It was hard to get up, the stunning spell and how tired you were at this point had taken a toll on you. Your movements were strained and languid, it took you a full minute to stand. The butterfly kept flying around you, desperate. You extended your hand to help and she flew towards your shoulder, sitting just over the sleeve of your dress. 

Oh right, you were only wearing a dress, perhaps that was the reason it was so cold. You managed to walk all the way to the door, with a slow and steady pace, but once you reached, the door wouldn’t budge. It was firmly closed, and you didn’t have your wand to pry it open, you didn’t even have the penknife you had made for Sirius. You leaned your back against the doorframe, you felt so tired. 

“Looks like we’re staying out here, Blue,” you said as you looked at the butterfly, who flew rapidly towards your face in response. You sighed, “You wouldn’t make it, would you?” you asked and pushed yourself off the door, searching for another way in. That’s when you spotted one of the crossed-out windows. Perhaps if I try hard enough…

You used the walls to step down from the stairs and walked towards the window. It was covered with wood, but one of the slabs seemed at least slightly rotten, so you grabbed that one, ignoring the splinters digging into your palms and pulled. 

Nothing happened. You frowned, took a deep breath and pulled again. There was a creaking sound, but the wood was still firmly glued to the side panels of the window. You nodded, hyping yourself up as you tried again. One, two, three, PULL! 

The piece of wood came along with you as you stumbled back a good few steps. You looked at it and smiled, throwing the wood on the floor and leaning against the window. It was still as messy as you remembered, but the clouding against the window meant it was warm. You grabbed a fist full of the flowy fabric of your dress and punched on the window, you felt it shatter as your fist went through the crystal. When you pulled your hand back you allowed your dress and the tiny shards of glass to fall onto the snow. 

You turned around and pushed your hand towards the butterfly. She placed herself in the middle of your palm and you carefully brought her inside. She seemed even more active once inside the warmer climate and you smiled. At least you could save a butterfly. 

You swallowed again and tried to pull the wood slab just over the one you had managed to rip out earlier but it was useless, the wood wasn’t as putrid as the other one, and it was firmly nailed onto the window. You huffed and tried again, but the result was the same. The butterfly seemed to be flying desperately as it watched you struggle.  You sighed after trying one more time and allowed yourself to fall on the floor, your eyes closed when you felt the flapping of the wings against your cheeks again.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you stared at it. “Go back inside, it’s warm, you’ll diе out here.” 

The butterfly stubbornly flew around you. It couldn’t talk, but if it did, you’d imagine it would be telling you the same thing you were trying to tell it. You sighed and stood up, helping her back inside. “I’ll find safety,” you promised as you looked at her. “But you need to stay inside.” 

The butterfly refused. You carefully hurled her back inside. It wasn’t easy but you were gentle enough not to hurt her. Once she was inside you dug down and grabbed some snow, attempting to close the hole you’d made with it. You dragged the snow from the sides of the sill and pressed them against the opened area, ignoring the sharp pain when a shard of glass dug into the side of your palm. Or perhaps it was more than one, your hand was too numb to feel it all. 

Once you made sure the butterfly wouldn’t be able to follow, you took a deep breath and focused on the snow. You used a similar spell to the one you had used on the snow fight, but rather than a projectile, you used the same type of magic to make sure the snow wouldn’t melt for a while. The butterfly was fluttering madly inside, as if desperate to come back out. 

“It’s all right,” you reassured, “I’ll find a way to safety, I promise.” You smiled faintly and then turned around. If you couldn’t get inside the shack, then the closest way to safety was through the forest. You weren’t scared, you knew the most dangerous thing that roamed it already, and he wasn’t around tonight. 

You looked up at the sky, the stars were impossibly bright, and the moon was waning. The path towards the forest was dark, but illuminated enough for you to see your way. You took in a deep cold breath and decided that if you’d have to get to the castle either way, you might as well do it now. 

The snow was hard and freezing, your feet hurt as you tried to raise them so you were pretty much dragging them through the thick and cold snow. With no shoes, they felt colder than ever, you could barely feel them at this point, but you kept walking. 

You fell more than once, but the ghost memory of the Blue flapping her wings against your cheeks got you to stand again. To keep walking, to keep fighting. But the castle seemed so far away, and the cold snow appeared as a welcoming blanket every time you stumbled onto it again. It was tempting, awfully tempting to just allow yourself to fall on it, to let it slowly drape over you and to become numb, not only your body, but your mind as well. 

When would they find you if you did? In a week when they realised you were gone? In a month when other animals dug you out of the snow desperate for something to eat? In months? After the weather grew warm and the insects had made your skin their home. You wished you could shudder at the sombre thoughts, but the snow still looked beguiling. 

Perhaps she would wash away your thoughts, perhaps she’d get rid of the pain inside like she had done with the one outside. The soft, white blanket, ready to wrap itself around you until you were completely swallowed by it, until you were one with it, and nothing more. 

But the memory of the butterfly got you up again, you’d have to go back to help her out, if you stayed in the snow, then she would stay in the shack, and the two of you would be nothing more than a memory. 

Remus had run to the Whomping Willow the second he pocketed the mirror. He didn’t even bother hiding the fact that he was going out at night, he didn’t sneak out, he didn’t care if he got detention, he didn’t care if he got expelled. Not after what Sirius had told him. Not after hearing how you were sitting on the snow, with your eyes closing and with the same cold he felt, so heavy around him. The snow was falling so hard he couldn’t see more than a few metres ahead, and he was scared. 

No, Remus was terrified, as terrified as he had been that night you’d discovered he was a Werewolf, as terrified as he was when he saw you fall from your broom back at the game, as terrified as that night you insisted on turning into Vixen alongside the rest of the Marauders to be with Moony.

He had been terrified of losing you then, and he was hysterical over feeling the exact same way now. He sprinted towards the tree, not thinking twice if he would get hit by one of its branches as he ducked and jumped to get to the hole. He slid down and ran, so fast his legs cried for him to stop, his heart drumming in his ears and his breath short. It took some time, but when he finally made it, when he found the door, he busted it open and walked inside. He didn’t waste time, walking towards the entrance and using his wand to open the door. 

“Sirius said you’d be there,” he whispered as he looked at the empty fence. The snow had already covered your tracks, but he could smell the same urgent, scared and terrified scent of you he was already familiar with. He looked around and spotted the wood slab you had ripped from the window. He could smell bIood on it and he cringed, taking it in his hands only to spot small droplets of it over the sides. He winced at the thought of you hurting yourself and then dropped the wood and looked around again. The snow, being so thick, had easily erased your steps, but even if he couldn’t see, he could smell. 

His senses weren’t as keen as they were close to the moon, he wasn’t as good at tracking as Moony was, but if there was a time to take advantage of his abilities, it was now. He closed his eyes and focused on you. It was hard at first, the snow was thick and cold and his nose was freezing, but he managed to spot you, a trace of you. When he opened his eyes again, they were way more golden than normal, and he sprinted towards the source of the smell. He ran, ignoring the snow that had slipped inside his Converse, ignoring the complaints of his bones. The moon had been only days ago and he was still rather sore, but he ran.

By the time he spotted a faint dark dot in the distance, he was already panting, but he pushed through and sprinted all the way to you. By the time he reached you, you were kneeling on the floor, slow breaths and looking up, attempting to stand again. He kneeled in front of you and took you a minute to really see him, thinking for a moment it was just another game your mind was playing on you. 

“Rem?” you asked, voice cracked and barely a whisper. 

“Merlin, you’re all right,” he said as he dragged you towards him. You weren’t all right. You felt as cold as the place surrounding you. Remus panicked as he held you close to him. And he took off the coat he was wearing to wrap it around you. 

“No, it’s cold, you use it,” you slurred as you shivered. Remus gave you a sympathetic look. 

“I’m going to carry you, I think I can apparate you back in the Shack,” he explained. 

“It’s closed, can’t open it…” you said as you shook your head, not quite thinking. “Must get to the castle, it’s safe,” you said, you had told yourself that over and over again as you walked, you were merely repeating it now. Not even thinking Remus could probably crank the door open if he wanted to.

“You don’t have your wand?” he said as he pulled you up from the floor and slung one of your arms around his shoulder. You shook your head in response. “I’m going to pick you up now,” he added as he passed his arm under your legs and pulled you up with ease. “I have my wand,” he added reassuringly, handing it over to you, he knew it would make you feel better.  

And then he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and concentrating on the Shack. The shape of the walls, the window covered by wooden slabs, the run-down chimney and the scuffed floors, once the image was neat enough, he followed Dumbledore’s instructions, the world dissolved around him only for him to appear in the shack. The first thing he did was let you down on the floor carefully and make sure he hadn’t accidentally splinched you. 

“You alright? Anything hurts?” He asked as he placed his hands on your face to check on you. They were warm and kind, incredibly reassuring to your still-fuzzy mind. You couldn’t have been dreaming that, could you? 

You focused your gaze on his, still rather dazed and shook your head. He placed his hand over yours and took hold of the wand, closing the door with a short wave of it and then turning the fire to help the room heat up slowly. 

He took a look at you, your skin was dull with the cold, the colour fading and stale. Remus carried you again and dragged you towards the room, the torn sheets from a few nights back were still on the bed and he sat you there slowly. He asked you a few questions, and you responded automatically, too numb to think properly. 

“Luv, you’re not even listening to me,” he complained as he pulled your face into your hands. You blinked and tried to focus on him again. 

“Sorry,” you mustered. 

He sighed. “Listen, I’m going to give you my jumper, and then I’ll check your hands up. We need to warm you up slowly, okay?” 

“It is cold,” you responded as your teeth clung together. 

Remus took off his jumper and helped you put it on top of your dress. The dress was cold, but he used a spell to have it warm up slowly as he laid you on the bed. “Is it better?” 

You nodded, jaw still quivering from the cold. Remus took a short breath and pulled your hands towards his. Some of the splinters of wood were still stuck in your hand and he was careful as he started to remove them. Your hands were cold and he could see small –now melting– crystals of bIood attached to certain sections of your palm.  When he was done, he used a spell to aid the healing process, your hands had just started to get their warmth back when he heard a heavy breath coming from you. 

You had fallen asleep. Peaceful, but still shivering. He frowned and pulled the mirror from his pocket. Sirius, taking the wand from the bed and using it to send to shine a light, Sirius instantly peaked his head on the other side. 

“How is she? Is she okay?” Sirius mouthed desperately. 

Remus smiled and nodded, showing him your sleeping figure. “She’s cold,” he explained. “I’m trying to warm her up.” 

“Hug her!” Sirius said instantly. “Cuddle her! You’re always warm!” Remus gave him a questioning look. “You always cuddle her, it’s no different.” 

It was very different. Remus had never cuddled you without Sirius in the bed too. James beside Sirius nodded supportingly. He didn’t see the issue, he’d cuddle you if it was necessary. Of course, James saw you as a friend and nothing more. 

Remus nodded and left the mirror on the table, promising the boys he’ll talk to them later, with the radio to explain it all better. Then he leaned onto the edge of the bed. “Little Witch,” he called softly. 

You didn’t react, eyes still closed and breathing slow. He placed a hand on your face, it was warmer, but still colder than it should be. He played with a bit of your hair and placed it behind your ear, allowing his fingers to brush over your face, “Little Witch,” he called again. 

You were beautiful, even in the cold, even with the shivers, Remus thought you looked stunning. He wondered how you must have looked when you stepped into that party, with your hair perfectly arranged and your makeup freshly done, definitely a sight to behold. And then he sighed, here he was ogling at you while his best friend –your boyfriend– was at home, worried for his girlfriend. Asking him to cuddle you, and yet he felt doing so would be akin to betrayal, just because of how much he liked you. 

“Little Witch,” he said again, this time you hummed, your eyes opening slightly, unfocused. “I think I should cuddle you to warm you up faster, is that okay?” 

“It is always okay for you to cuddle me,” you responded, not quite thinking, and closing your eyes again before you noticed the blush on Remus’ cheeks. You couldn’t have meant that, or perhaps you did, in which case you really thought of him as your closest friend, which in turn, made him feel even worse. 

Remus carefully climbed onto the bed and under the covers. He was on the side, and hesitated a little before leaning in to cuddle you. Most of the time, it was you and Sirius that leaned into him, not the other way around. He never wanted to seem invasive, and he really only moved you around when you were Vixen. It was easier to think of the two of you as different entities instead of the same.

But you leaned back to him almost instantly, allowing your head to rest on one of his arms and pulling the other one around you. You seemed a lot more comfortable, the shivering reducing significantly. It took a minute for Remus to untense, but eventually, he relaxed on to you, even daring to bring you closer as he rubbed his hand over your clothed arm to try and warm you up faster with the friction. Eventually, he too fell asleep. 

When he opened his eyes again, you weren’t there. He stood up in an instant, terrified you had been a dream, that he hadn’t found you in the snow and that for some twisted reason, you were still out there freezing. But then he spotted the silhouette of a shadow, and he looked ahead. Crouched, looking impossibly small, you sat next to the fire, using a poker to liven up the flames, arm wrapped around your legs and using both his jumper and his coat to warm yourself up. He couldn’t see your face, but the way you were breathing… it looked like you had been crying. 

He pulled the covers off of him and dragged them alongside himself as he sat next to you. He didn’t make a sound as he placed the covers around the two of you, and he hesitated before placing his hand on your forehead, then allowing it to slide down your cheek, and letting his thumb brush under your chin. You were a lot warmer now.

You didn’t react, you allowed him to touch you as you continued to stare at the fire. The dancing flames reflecting onto your glassy eyes. 

Your temperature had risen, the cold was no longer clouding your mind, and you had struggled to hold back the tears for at least half an hour before you decided to step out of bed, hoping not to wake Remus up with your sobs. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, not after what you’d done, after what you’d caused. You didn’t deserve to cry.

“Little Witch?” Remus asked, tilting his head to the side when you attempted to blink back some tears. 

You swallowed thickly, did you even deserve such an endearing nickname? 

“Hey,” he leaned a little closer, placing a hand on your shoulder, you avoided his gaze, how interesting did the dancing flames seem, with their hues of yellow, red and bright white, with the sparkling bits floating off until they disappeared, with the ash of the wood piling at the bottom. It clearly hadn’t been cleared in a while. 

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Love, whatever happened, I won’t judge you, you know that, right?” 

It was as if he had guessed your thoughts, Remus had always been incredibly perceptive, you sometimes underestimated just how much. But Remus understood, he understood exactly what you were feeling because he had played the scenario where he accidentally hurt those he loved over and over again in his brain for years. 

And while he didn’t know much, Sirius did tell him about the fire and about your mother’s passing.

He was looking at you with such a kind-hearted look, trusting and kind. Like he would give you the world if you asked –he would– and you couldn’t help but break. You disliked being vulnerable, you hated having to show said vulnerability, but with Remus looking at you like that, with the night you’d had, perhaps allowing yourself to cry in front of your best friend wouldn’t be so bad. You knew Remus wouldn’t judge you, at least not for crying. 

“Love?” he asked, you sobbed. Your face slowly scrunching up as you sniffed. It was hard to breathe as you opened your mouth to take in some air and then you sobbed again. 

“I kiIled them,” you said, barely managing to open your eyes to look at Remus straight in the face. You wanted to see his reaction, half expecting him to pull back, to look at you in disgust, to recoil from you and to leave you crying alone in the room. A part of you wanted that, the part that wanted to cry and break everything, the one that needed to be alone. 

But Remus didn’t do any of those things, instead, he opened his arms and wrapped them around you, bringing you closer to him, “I don’t care,” he said honestly. 

You sobbed, and pulled back to look at him, “I kiIIed them, Remus!” you repeated, louder now. “My mum and Nina, they’re both dеad because of me!” 

You felt Remus’ breath slow down as he tightened his arms around you and dragged you back into the hug. He didn’t know about Nina. “Did you want to kiIl them?” he asked simply. He wouldn’t have pushed you away even if you had.

“No,” you said in a whisper. 

“Then it was an accident.” 

You sniffed, trying to push him off, but he tightened his grip around you, not allowing you to snap out of his embrace. “But I still caused their dеaths! I’m a murderer!” 

“I don’t care,” he repeated as he pushed you even closer to him. “I wouldn’t even care if you had done it on purpose, that would just mean they gave you a reason.” You sobbed, allowing the tears to slide down your cheeks, wetting the soft cotton shirt he wore. You didn’t realise it then, but it was the Sex Pistols shirt you had sent him as a gift. 

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, you don’t need to tell me anything at all,” he said softly as he brushed his hand on your back and pulled you even closer, so close you ended up sitting on his lap as you leaned into him and cried. “But I’m here, darling. I’m here and you can cry with me all you need.” 

You had no idea how comforting it could be to cry with someone, you had always done it alone. But Remus was soft and reassuring, whispering calming words into your ears as he continued to brush his hands on you. Over your back, on your head, almost like he did when you were Vixen, but with more purpose now, it wasn’t about making Vixen get the smell of the pack, it wasn’t about making her warm, it was about making you warm. 

He was hugging you consciously,  brushing his hands over your body in an attempt to make you feel solace, and while his touch didn’t have the amnesiac ability the Lethe offered –and that you might have gladly drunk that night– he did offer a comfort like you hadn’t experienced in your life. Crying into Remus’ arms was like crying in a bed of soft, feathery clouds. Like the angels had come down to earth to commiserate you and absolve you of your wrongdoings. 

It was also comforting to know that no matter what, you had someone on your side. You had lost your father that night, you had kiIled your mother and your friend had diеd trying to protect you, even though Barty and Evan helped you escape, you had never felt so immeasurably lonely as you had while you tried to help that small butterfly, or when you had walked towards the castle, your feet on the cold snow feeling number as the minutes passed by. 

And then you ended up with Remus, hugging you and whispering how things would be all right, how Sirius and James had been worried and how happy they had been when he showed them you were all right. That no matter what you did, he wouldn’t leave, that Sirius wouldn’t leave and that your friends would be there for you. That you were part of them, and not even dеath herself could change that. 

You cried in your best friend’s arms until you ran out of tears. You told him in between sobs what had happened, and he had patiently listened to your rambling as he continued to hold you. He would tighten his grip when your breath ran short and your tears grew thick. Only to let it loose and look at your face when you relaxed into him again. He was warm, the cold you had felt initially almost completely forgotten in his embrace. 

“Thank you,” you whispered after a while, after telling him everything that had happened and after realising that, even then, he wouldn’t leave. 

“There’s nothing to thank me for, my love,” he said and dragged you closer to him. If anything, it should be him the one thanking you, for letting yourself be vulnerable in front of him, for trusting him enough to let him hold you and to cry into his arms. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, because holding you so tight shouldn’t make him feel as satisfied as he did, not when the reason he held you was how desperate and sad you were. 

And he felt your anguish, and he felt your pain, but that didn’t stop that small, touch-starved part of him from loving the fact that it was him the one that got to comfort you. That you clung to him for dear life, not to Sirius, not to anyone else.  

It was when your breath finally steadiеd that he realised you had fallen asleep again. He smiled and brought you back onto the bed. Cleaning the remaining salty water from your cheeks as he brushed your hair and accommodated you again. Your eyes were slightly swollen, you certainly looked like you had been crying, but he was sure Sirius would still be worried. 

He called him through the mirror again, he wrote a short note, telling him about you waking up and about being very upset, that you had been the one to cause the Fiendfyre and that you were very tired. That you were finally warmer and that he’d see if it was possible to call him later when you both went back to the castle.  

Sirius was a lot more relaxed now, especially when he saw Remus lying next to you in the bed. You had cuddled against the boy in the same way you cuddled to Sirius sometimes. He thought it was endearing, even if you were hugging someone else. It made him a lot more relaxed to think you weren’t alone, he had been alone many times. And you were with Remus, big strong and calm Remus, everything would be all right. 

By the time you woke up again, there was light filtering through the slab-covered windows. Beams of bright yellow reflected onto the worn-out floors, you looked at it for a minute, enjoying the warmth and almost pushing yourself back against the firm figure behind you. It was comfortable, peaceful, and reassuring, you realised there was an arm around you as well, keeping you close to them and to their warmth. 

You looked at the spores floating in the light beams, dusty, you thought as you stared, it took you a moment to really gather where you were, who you were with and how you’d ended up there. You had slept, you had slept a lot and yet you felt tired. The toll of the previous night, the weight of your now dried tears, still heavy in your mind. 

Did you want to cry again? Did you even deserve to?

What else could you do if not that? 

“You’re awake?” Remus’ groggy voice asked from behind as he brushed a piece of hair off your face, immeasurably soft and tender. 

“I was trying to convince myself it all had been a nightmare,” you replied with a sad, breathy laugh. 

Remus shook his head, “You’re in a better mood, I see.” 

“At least I’m not out there freezing anymore…” There was a bit of silence, and then your brain started working again. 

Wait a minute… how did he find you? 

You turned around hastily, Remus almost pulled back from how close your face was to his now, but he stayed where he was, he didn’t want to push you away by making any harsh movements. 

“How did you… How did you know I needed help?” 

“Sirius,” Remus admitted. You frowned, it still made no sense. Remus looked at you and then down at your neck, he could see the map charm hanging inside the necklace Sirius had given you. He picked it up and carefully rubbed his thumb over the original charm, “I think it has to do with this.” 

You looked at his hands with a frown, the charm looked much smaller in his hands than it did in yours, “The necklace from El Maleficio?” 

“I suppose Sirius never got around to telling you?” You gave him a confused look in response. “He’s got a burn on his hand, the moment he touched it, something happened, the man in the store said it was connected to him now, he assumed it was some sort of bIood magic or something.” You listened to him attentively as he continued, “he had an awful nightmare, he was seeing everything from your point of view.” 

You swallowed, “So… he knows everything…” you said, there was a horrified expression on your face, as if Sirius knowing would be the end of your relationship. 

“He asked me to get you after he saw Barty use the stunning spell,” Remus added. “He was worried.” 

“Worried? Not angry not–” 

Remus shook his head, knowing exactly what you meant. “You couldn’t get rid of us even if you went all Grindelwald, Little Witch.” 

“Merlin, I’d hope you would get rid of me if I went all Grindelwald,” you replied almost instantly. Still, the sentiment was nice, to know that you’d have them on your side, both Remus and Sirius, no matter what. You were lucky to have a boyfriend and a best friend like that. 

“Maybe lock you up in a cage until you reassessed your choices,” Remus joked as he turned to look at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to just stare into your eyes like he had been doing much longer without leaning in to kiss you. Oh, how he craved your lips sometimes. You shoved him lightly on the side and he made a rather exaggerated sound of pain. 

“Drama queen,” you said as you shoved him again. He shook his head and laughed, now you too turned to look at the ceiling. It was as worn as the floor, some of the paint peeling, some of it scratched and broken. You assumed that it had been Moony. 

There was a comfortable silence surrounding the two of you. You were warm as you lay close to him, but more than that, you felt safe. As if, now that you were with Remus, there was no danger, nothing could touch you in the small bubble inside the Shrieking Shack. You weren’t sure you wanted to step out, to face the real world. 

Would there be consequences? Would you be criminally charged? Could they even criminally charge you with all the things you had seen them do? 

“Sirius will probably want to speak to you,” Remus said. “I got him a radio for Christmas, there’s another one in our room, and we also use the mirror to see each other.” 

“You made holoprojectors? Like in Star Wars?” you asked curiously, turning your face to look at Remus’.

“Kind of,” he replied. “It’s not exactly the same, we don’t have holographic projections of each other but–” 

“–I bet you could do it!” you interrupted, “there’s bound to be a way in which you can use magic to make holoprojectors happen… at least until science catches up.” 

Remus knew what you were doing, you were completely avoiding the topic of last night, leaving it in the back of your mind, trying to ignore it. If you didn’t pay attention to it then, it couldn’t have been real. 

He wasn’t sure if he should let you, you had cried so much earlier, and while he loved to be the one to hold you, that didn’t stop the pressure in his chest as he saw you struggle. He didn’t want you to cry because it pained him to see you like that. 

“I assume we could,” he conceded. Perhaps he could let you ignore it for a little longer, for as long as you needed. You probably still had to process all of it. And there was a lot to process. You had told him everything, from the start of the night to the end of it, albeit in between sobs and sniffles, he had a pretty strong picture of all of it, perhaps stronger than Sirius’ who had lived part of it alongside you. 

After all, he had heard your feelings, not just seen what had happened. He knew what Evan and Barty had done for you, which had been perhaps the most surprising thing of the night, the fact that either of them had some sense of debt and that Evan felt he owed you something for not telling the truth to his father, which had just been basic human decency. 

“Do you want to go back to the castle?” he asked. 

“No,” you said honestly and pulled the raggedy covers over your head, they still kind of smelled like Padfoot, Vixen and Moony, that too was comforting. 

“You want some chocolate?” he asked. 

You peeked your head from the covers to look at him, your nose still covered but your eyes wide open and looking straight at him as you nodded. 

“You’re hungry, then?” 

You sighed and nodded. You weren’t sure you were in the mood to eat, but the rumbling in your stomach said otherwise. The toll of magic used the previous night was finally hitting you, and as your body worked to fill you with magic again, the used-up energy showed in the form of hunger, and meat craving. 

That craving had been gone for a while, the longer time you spent with Rem the more it seemed to go away, but today it had come back and it had come back strong. You wondered if it had to do with how much of your magic you had used up, or perhaps it was the moon, or Remus also wanted meat and he was projecting that onto you. 

If he had been the one to scratch you, did it make sense? There was not enough information on werewolves. 

“Then we must go to the castle.” 

You pulled the covers over your face again and dramatically buried your head in his chest. “No, Remus,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt. “Just give me the chocolate.” 

“I have no chocolate.” You dug your hand in his pocket. There was an empty wrapper. “Oi!” he complained as he squirmed to the side. 

Did he really have no chocolate? That was impossible. You didn’t really care much for his complaint and leaned a little closer, resting your elbow on top of him to check the other pocket. There was a folded piece of paper and nothing else. You placed the paper back in the spot and pulled the covers to look at him, still leaning half of your body on his. 

He had that very smug expression on his face that clearly said ‘I told you so’. 

“Are you done manhandling me?” he asked calmly. 

“No,” you said as you tried to lift him up to check his back pocket, but he didn’t budge. 

“There is no chocolate,” he repeated. “I have some in the castle, though.”

“Why do you insist on taking me there?” you asked with a pout, now letting your arms and head lay close to his sternum. 

“Because Pomfrey is there,” he said honestly. “You should get checked.” 

Your face turned cold, emotionless even. The little bubble you had allowed yourself to rest in completely bursting at the thought of going to the infirmary. Of getting checked, because last night had been real, because last night you had almost diеd frozen in the snow and then earlier attacked by Lucius or perhaps tortured by Bellatrix. 

“It’s okay,” Remus said kindly, resisting the urge to place his hand on your head and play with your hair reassuringly, “She won’t ask questions, she’ll just make sure you’re okay.” 

You took a slow controlled breath, your eyes watering as you avoided Remus’s gaze for a second, turning back to look at him as you wet your lips, they were dry and chapped from how much you’d cried. Going out seemed like an immense effort, like stepping back into reality and into the war. You’d have to talk to Dumbledore, or at least to Nightshade, you had to tell them about the dinner and about all the people you’d seen there. You couldn’t be sure if they were all dеatheaters, but they had definitely been accessories to the crimes committed. 

Should you let the papers know? Would they even care?

There were about a million things swinging inside your head and you were aware that you couldn’t just stay cooped up in Remus’ arms and ignore everything completely, but that didn’t make it any less tempting. Perhaps Remus was a lot more like the Lethe than you originally thought, not because he made you forget everything that’s happened, but because his company offered a solace enough to cloud those thoughts out of your mind. 

Ironically, there was nothing more calming than your friend the werewolf. Perhaps he was so calm and collected because he was a werewolf, spending all of his life with the goal of keeping his temper down and maintaining it in check. Like Bruce Banner, who was the calmest of superheroes (when he wasn’t the Hulk).

“Can we eat first and go to Pomfrey later?” 

“No,” Remus said simply. You pouted in response. “Not even with that pretty pout of yours, sweetheart, it is non-negotiable.” 

“But Remus I–” 

“You can have a chocolate first,” he said as he lifted his hips slightly and handed over a small bar of chocolate. 

You gasped as he passed it over to you, “You said there was no chocolate.” 

Remus shrugged in response and broke off a piece of the chocolate in your hands, bringing it to his mouth and plopping it in. You laid your head on his chest again and bit off a piece yourself. You still didn’t want to go, you wanted to stay in the bubble, but bubbles were beautiful because they were ephemeral. 

They were meant to burst and sparkle leaving traces of soapy water on the floor. And that’s exactly what you had to do now. You closed your eyes before standing up. You didn’t feel as sore as you thought you would, but when you stepped down on the floor you couldn’t stop the hiss that erupted from your mouth. Remus threw you a worried glance as he sat up on the bed “What is it?” 

You pulled your feet up to your knee, there were blisters, and peeling skin, like you had been burned. Of course, you had been walking with no shoes. You had gotten badly ice burned. Your knees weren’t much better either. You hadn’t noticed since your dress covered most of them, and the emotional pain had been much worse than the physical one last night but they were also scuffed, a section already getting a scab while the other was just badly bruised. 

Remus leaned over your shoulder to take a better look, “And you wanted to eat first.” 

“I’m still hungry,” you said, trying to distract yourself with Remus’ calming smell instead of thinking about how you’d gotten those. Probably when Bella stunned you and–

“Can you walk?” 

“Of course I can walk,” you responded as you stood up. Did it hurt? Hell-a-fucking-lot. Could you manage? Well, you’d have to.

“Sure?” 

“Very,” you responded, avoiding gritting your teeth against one another completely.

You wished you had your wand, perhaps you could use some pain reliever spell or something. Remus stood up and put on his boots. You handed him his jumper and coat, he returned the latter one to you “Keep it, it’s cold outside.”

In reality, Remus was the last person to want to burst the bubble you’d created. If it was on him, he’d have stayed with you in the Shack ‘til the end of time. He loved how much closer you had veered to him, while during the night it had been for warmth, once awake he knew it was you, purposely laying your head on his chest and digging through his pockets.

He was also happy to see you. Or at least glimpses of you, not that broken, and terrified version of you he’d met the last night. He loved both the same, but there was nothing more heart-wrenching than your sobs and nothing more warming than your laughs, even if they were still slightly strained.  

You put the coat on and the two of you walked towards the door and entered into the hallway. The sprinkle of soapy water falling as you both stepped into the dark. The beautiful, and warm environment instantly switched for the colder and unforgiving passageway you’d have to walk through to get to castle grounds.

Bring me to your house and tell me "Sorry for the mess", hey, I don't mind You're talking in your sleep, out of time Well, you still make sense to me, your mess is mine

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: I feel like I've had you guys at the edge of your seats for two weeks and now you can finally breath. Gosh, Remus is insanly sweet~ How can I manifest a person like this in my life?

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[kelcemenow]

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 9.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 2056

Warnings A little bit of strong language and a little bit of angst.

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I’ve tried my best with this one! “I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!”

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

Your feet pounded the damp pavement, the earthy scent of rainfall thick in the air. You weren't 100% sure what you were going to say when you saw Travis, or even why you were heading to his place, but you figured the walk would help set your thoughts straight.

You pressed the heel of your palm to your forehead, closing your eyes for a second as you waited at the crosswalk, letting the traffic sounds of the street fade into the back of your mind. You had only known Travis for a couple of weeks, a handful of dates summarising what was still a very early relationship. If it could even be classed as a relationship.

He was charming, he was kind and gave you all of the attention that you could ever want.

But your lives were completely different.

Travis would spend his days giving interviews, recording his popular podcast and managing his successful and varied career and would spend his evenings in bars and clubs, being photographed rubbing shoulders with other well-known and high profile celebrities in designer outfits. You spent your days in overalls fixing cars and your evenings trying to clean the motor oil from your hair.

As the rain began to fall heavier, you pulled your sweatshirt hood over your head, pulling the edges of the fabric hard and clinging to them as if it was only thing holding you together. You checked the street signs ahead of you and continued in your way, staring down at the pavement to avoid to heavy raindrops that were falling hard from the gray sky above you.

The streets became quieter and the houses began to look bigger and more expensive. Travis' neighbourhood was quaint and humble, but still impressive, the sidewalks edged with a neat line of trees. You pulled your phone from your sweatshirt pocket, checking the address again and trying to focus on the house numbers as the raindrops built up onto the top of your cheeks.

You squinted further up the road to a house slightly set back from the sidewalk, large with brown roof tiles and a wide road that led to a double doored entrance. Nervously, you fidgeted with your fingers as you approached the house. You noticed a few vehicles scattered around the driveway and a well kept garden that looped around the property. Your wet hands rubbed against your soaked sweatshirt as you tentatively approached the door, your eyes fixated on the frosted glass panels. As your feet reached the top of the handful of stone steps, your heart instantly began beating faster and faster. Quickly clearing your throat, your shaking hands knocked firmly on the door and your chest swelled as you took a slow and deep breath.

Footsteps grew louder on the other side of the door and before you had chance to change your mind and turn away, the door opened and a blonde woman sporting glasses and a tight, black dress stared blankly at you. Your eyes darted to the house number that was displayed on the wall next to you and then towards your phone screen, confirming that you were at the correct house.

"Uhhh...sorry. I thought this...I mean-I'm sorry." You mumbled as you began to turn around, your chest filling with embarrassment. Of course he was seeing someone else.

"Y/N?" A voice called out.

You glanced around over your shoulder to see Travis making his way through a small gathering of people towards the doorway.

You smiled meekly, making uncomfortable eye contact with the group, "Travis? Sorry...I-"

"What are you doing here?"

You exhaled an awkward laugh and shook your head, "I don't really know."

His eyebrows lowered as he reached for your hands, "Is everything okay?"

You watched as his thumbs ran over the damp skin on back of your oil marked hands before looking up to see the pristine and glamourous blonde woman leaning on the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. You opened your mouth to speak but Travis ushered you away from the house.

"I'm filming a piece for Jason's documentary." He nodded towards the house and your eyes followed to see the crew of people looking in your direction. Lights and cameras were scattered around the room and a man appeared in the doorway holding a clipboard.

Your hands flew to your face, your wet hair plastered over your forehead, "I'm so stupid. You're so right, what am I doing here?"

Travis' lips curled downwards, his expression confused and mystified, before he smiled and pulled you closer to him, "It's fine, just come in. I'll get you some dry clothes and we can hang as soon as it's finished?"

"No, this is ridiculous." You shook your head and stepped away from Travis' grasp, "Thank you Travis, but I am so stupid."

He reached out for you again, "Why do you keep saying that? It's not a big deal?"

You retreated from him, stepping carefully down the remaining steps as you avoided eye contact with Travis, "I am so sorry I bothered you, Travis."

You pulled your sweatshirt hood tighter around your head, muffling whatever Travis called out to you and power walked away from the house, a mixture of raindrops and tears staining your cheeks.

______________________________________________________________

"Ahh...fuck!" You winced, sucking the air into your mouth through your teeth. Looking at your red fingertip, you noticed a small purple welt beginning to form thanks to the bolt that slipped from your grip.

You rolled your eyes, gripping your injured digit before leaning down back under the hood of the classic white Camaro that you were currently working on. It had been a week since you had seen Travis and in an attempt to forget about the situation, you had thrown yourself into your work, spending every hour you could at the garage.

As you brought your finger to your mouth to stem the blood that had started to emerge, you felt the car dip as someone rested their weight against the door.

"You need a break."

You tipped your head to see your Dad using a cloth to clean some oil from a large wrench. Bowing your head back down, you wiped your finger on your overalls and continued working, "No, I need to finish this turbo."

"I could take a look at it, if you want?" His voice was thick with concern.

Gripping the bolt again, you grimaced as the pressure caused a sharp pain to rush to your small injury, "I'm perfectly capable of doing it by myself."

Your Dad chuckled at your independence, a trait he had always admired, "I didn't say you weren't."

You stayed silent, aside from a short sigh when you had eventually managed to tighten the bolt adequately.

"Has he contacted you?"

"Dad-"

"No, Sport. Here me out."

You emerged from the hood, dropping it closed and walking to the open drivers side door as your Dad followed you around the vehicle.

"Has he contacted you?"

"Yes, he has. Every day this week, not that it matters." You said as you started the car, hearing the gentle purr of the engine.

"Okay." Your Dad pursed his lips and nodded his head slowly, "Look, I've never been the type of Father to tell you what to do, and I'm not about to start now. But I do think you're letting something really good go." He turned to walk away before stopping himself, "And I'm not just saying that because it's Travis Kelce."

You smiled and watched through the car windshield window as he strolled back into the garage office, his high pitched whistle fading from your ears.

______________________________________________________________

It was late and the garage was silent, aside from the occasional car passing by on the street. You dumped a handful of dirty rags into the hamper next to the office door and reached for the light switch, immersing the room into darkness.

You used the small amount of light beaming in from the office window to guide yourself to the large gray roller door that filled the wall. Turning the small metal key in the lock, you watched as the door began to descend. It had almost fully closed when you heard the sound of a car engine over the sound of the door motor. Beams of light peeped from underneath the bottom of door, brightness spilling out onto the smooth concrete floor.

You rolled your eyes and turned the key in the opposite direction, squinting and shielding your eyes from the gleam of the headlamps, "I'm sorry, buddy. We're closed...we actually closed a few hours ago."

A large figure stepped out of the vehicle but you struggled to identify it.

"Dude, did you not hear me?"

"Oh, I heard you." A familiar voice echoed in your ears, "But I ain't here for a service."

"Travis?"

As he stepped closer to you, the lights illuminated his face which was uncharacteristically covered in black smears. His usually pristine denim jeans were ripped in several places and a clear oily handprint was slapped across the right thigh. Your eyes drifted upwards to see his white t-shirt coated in stains of varying shapes, colours and sizes. He grinned at you, picking up a rag from the floor that you had missed and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Need some help?"

You narrowed your eyes, a small smirk growing on your face, "From you?

Travis looked around the room and shrugged his shoulders, glancing at the numerous cars and tools, "I could learn?"

"Travis, what are you-"

Before you had chance to finish your sentence, he stepped forward quickly and kissed you, his arms snaking around your waist. You melted into his hold, allowing his soft lips to move across yours and your hands to float up to the sides of his face. His thick stubble prickled against your fingertips, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you just as it did the first time.

He pulled away from you slowly, studying your expression, "Sorry, I just had to do that."

Your eyes drifted to the floor before closing shut whilst you took a deep breath. You focused in on the butterflies that were dancing in your stomach, trying to find the words that you wanted to say.

"You didn't reply to any of my messages."

His eyes were full of hurt and confusion and you suddenly felt a pang of guilt fill your chest, "I know. I needed to think."

One of Travis' hands ran up your side to cup your cheek, "About what? About us?"

"Yeah." You sighed, "I just don't know if we fit right. Although, I must say, you'd fit in here looking like that."

His eyes glinted, "You see? If I can fit in your world, you can certainly fit in mine."

You looked up, "I don't know if I can do it. The photographers, the online comments, I like my privacy, Travis."

"What online comments?"

"I saw something on Instagram, there was a photo of us and people...people had a lot to say about our relationship...or whatever it is." Tears began to pool against your lower lashes.

Travis held onto you tighter, "You shouldn't read that shit. I sure as hell don't! People are assholes, baby."

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against Travis' warm chest.

He continued, his large hand stroking the back of your head, "And if you want privacy, we can do that. You have the right to live your life however you want to, but I want you in mine."

Your heart jumped, a sudden overwhelm of emotion flooding you. You lifted up your head and breathed a laugh as a couple of tears ran down your cheeks, "I want you in my life too."

Travis' eyes creased into nothing, his smile as wide as it could possibly be, "So, that's settled then? Now, which of these car's needs my expertise?"

You threw your head back as you howled with laughter, throwing your arms around his neck and allowing him to take your weight. Your feet lifted from the ground and your lips crashed against his, this time a much deeper and passionate kiss, his fingers sinking into your flesh as if he never wanted to let go. Without breaking contact, you reached across and turned the key, shutting out the outside world.

______________________________________________________________

And it's done! This one has been my Everest! But thank you to everyone for their encouraging words and positivity! I hope this final chapter lives up to expectation!

I'll be scouring through my requests now and looking at doing some one-shots in the next few weeks to hopefully clear the list that has built up! I'll put a post out when my requests are open again!

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Even Deeper Waters | Yandere Merman (Part 2)

“Alright boys let’s get our old cruiser moving!” 

“Aye Aye!” 

The muffled sounds of yelling men rang through your ears along with various pounding of boots sending vibrations along the surface you lied against. You felt yourself moving. Swaying like a baby in a swing, you almost succumbed to sleep’s seductive pull at your eye-lids. Trying to settle once more you found yourself nuzzling against something firm…and….cold. It was then that a painful stab of pain climbed up your spine that had you snapping up to nurse the boney system. Only to bring another flash of pain as you smashed your head against a similar surface. You blinked your eyes with vengeance, desperately trying to make out your assailant only to just barely register the badly lit environment. 

A small eye-sized window let the smallest beam of natural light illuminate the steely quarters you were kept in. Showing the metal bunk beds hanging along, its very close together walls spread apart just wide enough for a knobless door. Metallic and unlabeled all you could make out was a panel, a dip in the surface of an otherwise blank door. 

Squinting your eye with great difficulty you eyed the contrasting textures of blue rapidly moving, told apart by the splotches of fluffy white wisps and flying birds.

“The…ocean?” 

You cringed at the hoarseness of your voice, rubbing at your throat as you collected your thoughts. The memories of Vain and the fear pumping your heart, had you stilling in disbelief. 

Was it real? 

That he killed all the staff of the Aquatic center? That he feasted on humans in general? And that he had full intentions of bringing you to wherever he was from? 

It couldn’t have been a dream. The pinpointed pain in your arm said so. Recalling the spine that sneakily shot out from under his skin to inject you with something. A shiver ran up your back, making you rub at sore spot with defeat. 

What now?

The sound of multiple metal clicks from behind the door had you sitting up straight. Wondering if it’d be Vain to release you or some old-fashioned pirate; at this point either was expected. When the door swung open it revealed a grimy man scanning the small room before landing on you. With a sniff he waved to someone beyond, an exhausted look on his face.

“Come on then your cargo is awake.” 

His accented voice called to the mysterious person who seemed to make a face as the round-bellied man stayed perched in the door way. With a groan the man moved revealing an uncannily familiar face. 

“My darling! I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Va-”

“Shhh I know your throat hurts just give me a second.” 

He shuffled some things in his hands: a thermos, a container, and a rag. Too bewildered to process anything you watch him, almost frantically, put the other items down to open the thermos. You reached for it only for him to move over them to hold your chin as he made you drink. His quick movements bypassed your own, leaving you to flounder and focus on guzzling the drink down. 

“That’s it baby! Good job.”

You hated the way he said that, looking up at him with a glare. He continued to smile down at you, eyes squinted in a sadistic fashion. Wordlessly you both seem to make the connection of the roles reversed; one of you giddy at the thought and the other disgusted. 

You finished the drink, unable to actually pull away as he moved his hold from your chin to your head. Forced to drink so fast you barely registered what it was you were drinking, only able to lick your lips in an attempt to recall the flavor. Opening your mouth to question him you were stopped by him shoving food into your mouth. Similarly he hand fed you the finger friendly food gleefully swatting your fighting hands and letting his finger dance around your lips. 

With a full belly you sat back, finally registering the non-human humming in satisfaction. He looked different. His face was softer. Plump around the cheeks and hair much longer than before. It meant he had eaten well and could avoid being directly recognized. Convenient for man eating merman.+

“What is–”

“Are ya done?! I’m getting tired of your lovey-dovey crap!” 

The  man had crossed his arms and puffed his chest as if Vain was already protesting. Vain wasn’t even looking at him when his pleased smile dropped and his eyes narrowed in a deadly glare. 

“Right, right. Sorry to hold you Captain, you have a whole ship to command.”

Before following the grumbling human he flashed you a smile; a smile that showed a minor resemblance to pinchers he used to threatened you with before.

“Rest easy (Y/n) we’ll be home soon.”

At the sound of the metal door slamming and locking you were once again encapsulated in near darkness. Forced to succumb to the tiredness only food brings, you settled into the uncomfy frame, dwelling on those words before drifting off. 

‘Home, huh?’

____________________________________________________________

Something must have been in that food. 

Or maybe it was the drink he was so insistent that you finish. It might’ve been unintentional, to have a meal that had your whole body aching while having you fade in an out from a restless sleep. Plagued with nightmares of your time with the captive-mermaid Vain and your imagination’s retelling of your coworker’s end. Only this time, you couldn’t sit up and clutched your pillow in the comfort of your room. No you were in a cold, uncomfortable cell, unable to even hold yourself to rock yourself back to sleep. The only comfort you had was the apparent rocking of the ship.

The strange swaying of a boat on ocean waves could be equated to the comfort of a rocking babe or by the drunken driving of car in wild winds. Teetering between soothing and anxiety-inducing you didn’t fight your eyelids shutting in the darkness of the cell. Like a weighted ball and chain your consciousness began to slip, dipping deeper into the realm of sleep despite the outlying factors. The rocking. The muffled shouts. The roaring waves. 

It didn’t stop you from falling asleep once more.

________________________________________________

When you awoke again the aching in your limbs had subsided and you were able to sit up. Still feeling a haze of tiredness you hazingly collected the remnants of your spotted memory. Sluggishly you stood, leaning on the bunked beds to the small space of wall. You looked out the eyeglass, taking in the cloudless blue sky against the dark moving waters of the ocean. Blinking away from the myriad of blue you turned around, straightening up when you registered the crack in the door.

“V-vain?”

You couldn’t imagine this was done on purpose by the grody Captain who snarked about ‘not messing with the cargo.’ No doubt a strict but crooked sailor that was keen on getting paid, he reminded you of the executives at your job. Who would sooner put their life on the line then sully the ‘integrity’ of their objectives. Which fanned the festering nervousness in the deepness of your gut. 

With hesitation you stepped out only now registering the creaking wood against your bare feet. Leaning against the walls of the ship’s hull, scanning for any signs of life, you focused on the light coming from a swinging door. Finding no one it only urged you further to the light. Climbing the stairwell you couldn’t help but squint at the sudden exposure to the sun. Holding your hand up to shield your eyes as you scanned for some sign of life. Dropping your hand as you enjoyed the salty sea breeze, letting your eyes close as you relished in the sun’s heat.

“Ah I’m glad to see you up, I honestly didn’t expect you’ll be able to move.”

You turned swiftly fully aware of that inspid voice only to step back at his appearance.

He was a foot taller, his hair longer, and his skin had a tint of blue. His teeth were much sharper, making for a smile that was more intimidating then anything. 

“...You ate again didn’t you?”

He chuckled holding a finger to his chin, “Was it that obvious?”

He hopped a little, making you flinch. He laughed again stepping closer to you and you stepped back, bumping into the railing of the sailboat. Finned arms caged you in purposefully squeezing himself against your person, giving you a ghastly whiff of his breath. 

“How have you been feeling? Ready to go home?”

“H-home?”

“My home…our home silly-darling!” 

“Is that–”, you looked over your shoulder at the waving water.

A deep trill or something reverberated from his chest, feeling it within your own. Moving closer to you, you turned from him leaning as close as you could to the railing, unintentionally urging the Mer-man to tighten his hold around you. He put his head on your shoulder looking at your eyes as you glared at the sea. 

“It is.”

“But I can’t breathe underwater, you'll kill me…Is that what you wanted?”

He took a deep inhale against your skin, leaving you no room to pull away as he peppered your neck with kisses.

“Of course not, you’re ready enough.”

“W-what?!”

Before you could say anymore he easily wrapped his hands around your waist launching you into the water. Naturally you flailed in an attempt to tread but you weren’t aware of how hard it was to do that. Reaching out to the smiling Vain it wasn’t long before you fell under the water’s surface. Expecting to feel water feel your lungs you didn’t fight closing your eyes as you lost sight of the sun’s rays reaching through the water.

‘Hold on?’

You weren’t dead. You could breath. You could see. 

You attempted to move around but your legs and arms weren’t much help. Especially not in comparison to Vain who dived in with tails and dorsal fins swimming towards you with ease.

“Come on, (Y/n). You didn’t think I’d let you die like that easily, did you? You’re mine darling and I said we were going home…didn’t I?”

#yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere merman #yandere mermaid #yandere merman x reader #yandere merman oc #yandere story #yandere merman part 2 #Maybe I'll continue this one after all

[resident-mercie]

Leon S. Kennedy Smut One-Shot - The Shooting Range (NSFW).

➵ The mission to find Baby Eagle is exhausting, but respite reveals itself in an incredibly out-of-place room.

author's note: GN!reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

"Holy fucking shit." I sigh, absolutely exhausted, reloading my handgun as a way to take my mind off of the failure of a mission we'd endured so far. No sign of "Baby Eagle", but plenty of signs pointing towards some freaky biohazard shit. Seriously, you could NOT pay me enough to stay in this profession. I fancy an early retirement if I make it out of all this alive.

"You alright?" My fiancé cracks a slight smile, but still wearing a weary expression synonymous with my own.

Thank god he's here, my one little breath of sanity in a world of consuming chaos. Leon S. Kennedy. Met at training, glued to each other's sides ever since. In a world so rife with confusion and uncertainty, he was the one thing that kept me grounded.

"Yeah." I plaster a weak smile on my face, wiping the sweat from my brow. The area seemed safe, for now, dimly illuminated by a violet light. In all honesty, I hadn't really taken in my surroundings until now, one of the sparse moments of calm on this mission. A cavern that reeked of petrichor and stagnant water, the only sound being a water droplet falling from a stalagmite suspended from the ceiling. "In all honesty though, I'd kill for a hot meal right about now."

Kennedy gave a weary smile, nodding slightly in agreement. We were exhausted, but had made hardly any progress to show for the lethargy we felt.

"Sorry to interrupt, strangers—"

Emerging from the familiar violet light, has a merchant we'd gotten used to seeing throughout our journey. There was something eerily mysterious about him in comparison to the other humans we'd met here so far, but an ally is an ally, we didn't have the time to question it.

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but see that lift over there? Should take you to a place where you can have a little break."

"Sounds sinister." Leon scoffed. "What's in it for you if we take a break and go in that lift?"

"It's good to know your own limits." The merchant chuckled. While his mouth remained covered with a violet cloth, you could see the grin in his eyes. "Wouldn't want you dying out there. Means I'd lose my two most loyal customers, heh heh."

"He's right, Leon." I plead, taking his hand. "A little rest will do us some good."

"I guess you're right." He smiles, intertwining his fingers with mine. Gesturing towards the lift with his free hand, Leon ensured that this would take us to a quiet space.

"Of course." The merchant nodded, his eyes grinning once again. "Have fun up there, strangers."

Offering a smile to the merchant, I stepped into the lift, Leon behind me. The doors closed behind us, and for the first time in a very long while, it was just the two of us.

"How are you holding up, honestly?" Leon gave a gentle smile, running his fingertips with care over the lacerations my body had endured on our journey thus far.

"I'm fine, honest!" I laugh, taking his hand. "Just a little sleepy. And hungry. I could really go for a three course meal right now."

Leon chuckled, looking down at his shoes. "When we get out of this dump, I'll take you anywhere you want, my dear. I love you. And we'll get through this, together."

I blush a little – despite the length of our relationship, I always melted a little when he called me dear, honey, sweetheart. He could wrap me around his finger that way, if he wanted to. I place my head against his chest, as he took me in an embrace, thinking about if only this moment could possibly last forever.

The lift jolted, ringing out with a little bell sound as the door pulled itself open, revealing the most opulent – and admittedly, incredibly out of place – room beyond the threshold.

"What the hell is this?"

The walls consisted of wood panelling, painted black, and adorned with decadent gold lining, where burgundy curtains were suspended from the ceiling in an asymmetrical pattern. The furniture, not arranged in any particular way, was comprised of dark oak wood, burgundy upholstery that matched the curtains, and litten golden decals that were a little scratched and scuffed.

"Whatever the hell it is, it's respite." I smile, taking a place on the couch, and relishing in its comfort. God, how I missed my bed at home. How it was so comfortable, moulding to my shape, and the way the pillows and bedsheets smelt like Leon's cologne.

"You've got that right." Leon took a seat next to me, and out of routine, I laid my head on his chest.

"I've missed this. I've missed you." I sigh, curling up close to him, looking up to his face with a sad smile.

"Me too." He sighed, before leaning in, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. He reminded me of cinnamon sugar, and I couldn't help but place my hand near the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss. I wanted everything to stay like this forever, his lips against mine, feeling the passion build between us. "I've missed you so fucking much."

It may sound silly to some, but these missions feel like your humanity is ripped away from you. In missions like these, Leon isn't my fiancé, and I'm not his – we're each other's means of survival. So to be able to be intimate together like this? Heavenly.

"There's something I want us to do." Leon whispered, placing a kiss on my jawline, leading to my neck. "I need you to undress. If that's okay."

I nod, hurriedly getting out of my seat, and sliding my clothes off in sheer excitement – jacket, body armour, shirt, trousers, boots – everything, until I stood facing him in solely my underwear. I could see Leon drinking in my image, a mixture of admiration and lust, blushing at he watched every inch of me.

He slid his own jacket off, and came towards me, before putting his brown aviator jacket around me.

"You'll need to wear this." He smiled, unbuckling his trouser belt, as I snuggled into his jacket, relishing in the way the fur interior felt against my skin. "I love you so fucking much." He whispered, clearly desperate to take me right there and then.

I press my lips against his again, groaning a little in the pleasure, as I felt Leon's hands slip under the jacket, groping at my chest in an almost pleading way. We were both desperate, after all. Pinching a nipple, I whimper under his touch, feeling my arousal growing.

He carries me over to the burgundy couch in one deft movement, laying me down on my back, his jacket wrapped around my body lazily. I feel my breathing hitch as I feel my hands near my sex, a shy moan escaping my lips and he begins to touch my most sensitive areas. His touch was dominant yet tender, being able to see from the look in his eyes alone that your pleasure was just as arousing for him as it was for me – after all, satisfaction was Leon's prime goal.

He found his way on top of me now, almost unable to restrain himself from leaving kisses across my body, blushing when a moan escapes my mouth after he places more kisses on my neck, nearly writhing in arousal now.

"I'm ready when you are, my love." He whispers, the desperation evident in his voice.

"I'm ready, Leon." I whisper in reply. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

With an elegant thrust, I feel his cock inside of me, throwing my head involuntarily back in ecstasy. God, how I'd been waiting for this. His thrusts started gentle and slow at first, taking my hands in his, but a slow rhythm was clearly unbearable for him. He was desperate for this release, and so was I, nearly aching for his touch. We craved one another. Our bodies, our scents, our presence.

His rhythm began to quicken, and I couldn't help but arch my back in pleasure, every buck and thrust from Leon causing my body to quiver more. I couldn't help but whimper, trying my best to stop myself from cumming so early, but feeling the sensation of Leon throb inside of me was near unbearable.

Leon groaned under his breath, the pleasure clearly having snuck up on him too, his thrusts quickly becoming more erratic as he struggled to contain himself. My eyes rolled back in ecstasy, right as Leon hit just the right spot, my whimpers becoming louder, as it was impossible to stop myself from cumming in such a way. I was desperate, needy, feeling myself clench around his cock in my own pleasure.

Leon's own orgasm soon ensued, with a breathy "fuck" escaping his lips, pressing himself desperately against me, as if he didn't want the moment to end at all. He pulled out, leaving me full of his cum, running down my legs, and staining the burgundy couch underneath me. I was still panting, wanting to relive the moment so badly.

Leon placed a gentle kiss on my lips, his face mirroring my exact thought – how unfortunate it was that our moment of respite was over. There was no use complaining, we did have a mission to attend to after all – but it wouldn't be long until we craved each other's touch in such a way again.

#resident evil #fanfic #fanfiction #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic

[yourbestpalpercy]

Well, this was a weird dream…

At the moment, Pal was speaking to a strange android that was waay too intrusive about Pal being human. Pal had to fight the thoughts of tearing the thing apart with his wires. “Please stop!” Pal hissed, slapping the Tartar’s hand rather aggressively. “I hate being touched…” Pal hissed.

The android, Tartar, moved his hand away. “So, where’d you come from?” It asked, brushing off what Pal said. “I’m from Maine! Welton, Maine…” Pal took a few quick steps away from Tartar. “HA! Maine’s been underwater for exactly 11,067 years! It was actually one of the first places to go under!”

“Then explain how exactly I’m here!” Pal tightly grabbed Tartar’s hand when he went to poke his head band. “And stop. Touching. Me.” Tartar yanked his hand away.

“Hm, maybe you should recount the events before arriving here?” Tartar tilted his head roughly.

“Well, I remember creating a machine…one of my Tamaz entered it while I wasn’t looking and- wait! Wait! D-Did you see a particularly lanky, black creature with the body of a tamagotchi by any chance??” Pal’s tail flicked free, the tip shaking quickly behind him.

“Tama..gotchi creature? Uhm, I think I saw something simil- Is that a tail!?” Tartar shouted, suddenly with disgust in his voice.

“Huh?” Pal glanced back before shoving his tail back away, “Uh- no?? Not at all! Just a stray cable,” Pal smiled a fake smile.

“Likely story, I saw that! It was moving like a tail!” Tartar glared into Pal’s eyes.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“You do though.”

“Are you sure it was a tail though? It’s awfully dark here.”

“I’m very sure! That was a tail!”

“Hmmm…nope! I don’t think it was.”

Tartar suddenly grabbed Pal by his shoulders and shook him, “You’re not human-...what are you…?” He coldly asked, grabbing Pal even tighter.

“I-I-I wouldn’t assume-!” Pal hissed when Tartar suddenly dug his claws into Pal’s shoulder, drawing some green blood and covering his hand.

“And what’s this, hm? I know humans better than anyone. They don’t have green blood…”

“What- what makes you think that?” Pal pulled away from Tartar and tried to stop the bleeding before it healed up quickly.

“Your blood stopped quicker than it’s supposed to…hm..” Tartar suddenly slashed Pal’s chest, causing more of that green blood to stain his claws. The green light that came from the blood was enough to allow Tartar to see Pal’s quick healing.

“...fast healing, impressive…” Pal suddenly attempted to run away when Tartar stepped on his tail and grabbed him. “I hope you don’t mind. I just need a little bit of this…” Pal spun around quickly and dug his black claws into Tartar’s horn. “LET ME GO!” A wire erupted from Pal’s back now to shove Tartar away from him.

Tartar grabbed Pal tighter before snapping his fingers. Some strange, purple sparks started to shoot from a panel on the back of his head as Pal kept shoving and trying to push and wriggle his way out of Tartar’s grasp. His crank started spinning fast. “YOU AIN’T THE FIRST CRAZY AI I’VE FOUGHT AND YOU WON’T BE LAST I BEAT!”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll win this!” Tartar bit down on Pal’s wires and continued to hold him in place. Pal could hear something coming but couldn’t quite make out what until Tartar opened a door and flung the inventor inside. Instantly, his eyes filled with colors before the platform raised, bringing him to a container.

“Kids! Seriously, so annoying…” Tartar grumbled and crossed his arms.

“I’M 30 YEARS OLD! I HAVE A DRIVER’S LICENSE, YOU JERK!” Pal screamed, slamming his fists on the glass.

“It still counts!” Tartar hissed back before staring at the buttons before him. “Now, let’s see here…”

“Is this a f*cking blender!?” Pal kicked at the walls of the container.

“Correct! Have fun while I extract the blood I need, you mimic…” Tartar leaned on the button. “While your death rapidly approaches, you tell me about this other world, will you? The one with humans!” Tartar smiled sickeningly.

“I’m not a mimic! I did, truly, use to be human! I’m not telling you what changed though!” Pal was cut off- oh, sorry, cut up rather quickly afterwards.

“Huh, oh well, you are rather tiny…” Tartar mumbled, disappointed until Pal shot up from the blood inside the blender, fully reformed.

“Oh! How pleasant!” Tartar smiled excitedly, “You reformed!”

“Of course I did! I can’t die! I’ve tried so–!”

Tartar pressed the button again, cutting Pal up again before he reformed and now tried to keep himself above the green blood.

“You’re psychotic!”

“STOP THAT!”

“IT DOESN’T HURT BUT–!”

By the time the blender was full, Pal was pulling himself out of the blender and coughing up his own blood. “W-W-W-Was that necessary…??” Pal hacked before Tartar picked him up, grinning and giggling.

“Very necessary. See, you’re actually worth something. You’re playing a valuable role in my experiments. This blood could be extremely useful…if the effect applies to everything else!”

Wires suddenly exploded from Pal’s back, holding Tartar still. Pal wasted no time slamming Tartar into the blender and submerging him. “Asshole! Now then, I’m going to go find Tamalanki IN PEACE!” Pal closed the blender afterwards so Tartar would have a harder time chasing him.

“Jesus…!” Pal grabbed the bridge of his nose before a portal reformed before him and pulled him in. Guess that happened to TamaLanki too because when Pal reawoke in his warehouse, TamaLanki was rambling on about what happened to him to the other Tamaz…

#playtimewithpercy #prequel AU #this is so self indulgent #commander tartar #splatoon tartar #playtime with percy #pal percy #splatoon #pwpau #pwp au #playtime with percy au

[fatgumsurpremacy-remastered]

It Takes Time to Sew a Doll Yan. Vox x CIS. FEM Reader

It Takes Time to Sew a Doll Yan. Vox x CIS. FEM Reader Pt 1.5 [Lunch Hour]

Warnings; Confinement, chasing, obsessive thoughts, yandere tendencies, Vox yelling at his employees, possible descriptions of body horror, foul language, misogyny, yelling, verbal threats, violent urges, electric shock.

Pt [1]

To my besties: @bloodypeachblog @omniuravity

Vox’s offices were the usual, sterile white one would expect from most office buildings- with a splash of black, blue, and red here and there. Modern art strung along the walls; some flecks of colour in the carpet here and there. But most of the time it was just the glaring white of each and every thing.

It felt like an asylum. But his main rooms were a cool black, with Cyan strip lighting.

Vox knew that if he kept her in the main waiting areas she might just run away- he might not ever be able to get to her again. She could run off with someone else and get in trouble or die-

No. He wouldn’t allow that.

He instead smiled politely and apolozed has he wheeled her around- everywhere.

They were the talk of the office as those murmurs from the morning turned to gasps of awe when they passed.

“Now this is conference room 2-b where we do star cast interviews and little company debreifs-“ he shook his head, “Well- I say WE I mean my employees. We as a company.” He knelt down, shaking the chair and looking at the disinterested face of his captive audience. “As a unit.”

She turned her face up in complete dissatisfaction, the gaze of a migrane clear in her eyes and the way she refused to speak. Vox cringed a bit at that. Laughing and clapping his hands he decided to wheel the chair further down the hall, paying no attention to the looks he was receiving from his employees. Kicking open a door his own little waiting area was on display. 4th office B, for potential client interviews. It was possibly the coziest- well insulated- and protected rooms.

The air was cold and the only light came from the blue of an idle computer and a small fish tank. Vox picked the woman up from her chair to a more comfortable couch, smiling as she instantly nestled in. There was a pause when he opened his mouth, and nothing came out. He just shut it again and nodded, rocking on his feet before swaying a bit.

“I hope you enjoy the room, I designed it myself.” Suddenly his bow tie was in desperate need of attention as he pulled on it, looking to every inch of the room but the one she sat in.

“It’s bland.” Shot through the heart. “You’d think if you had the money you’d at least get a bookshelf with books and not just a fish tank with a broken fm radio.”

“Listen-“ he said sharply- voice nearly peeking but calmed by the static on his tone, “you’re a guest but that doesn’t mean I don’t have limits.”

“You could let me go.” She snapped right back before getting a quilt from Vox’s office chair thrown over her face.

He pointed at her. Menace in his gaze locked onto her eyes as she glared back into his own. “Don’t speak to me like that.” The panels at the top of the room shook menacingly as electricity popped somehweee else. “You’re allowed to be mad, you’re not allowed to act out of line. Capiche?” Tilting his head he hoped he wouldn’t have to strain this situation more, and sighed when she didn’t back down in the slightest.

“Look-“ blue tipped fingers pressed flat against his face as he tried to pinch his temple, the other hand came up to run a hand through his no- hair. “I want to run through some legal stuff, make sure this is covered and you get compensated fairly because I don’t think we want to go to court now do we?”

Shaking no-

“Good! See- we’re on the same side here. Neither of us want messy little lawyers getting in our way, it’s the whole reason they’re down here- Off topic- I don’t have time enough in the day to deal with that. Sooo until then I need you to stay-'' his hands pointy the ground as she slowly backs away. “Here. Alright? Don’t make me get security.” With about a half a step forward he got on one knee, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

“I will be back.”

The door shut as he tried to rally the thoughts in his head. There was too much to do to think about a coincidence. And that was ALL that this was. A coincidence.

A small, menial event in the breadth of his long long afterlife. He could get through it! He’d done it in the past he’d do it again.

Or so he thought.

Meeting after interview, after press conference later he found himself spacey- monitor occasionally actively disengaging back to his idle motion picture.

He forced himself to stay awake. Plugged himself into every outlet he could, but something gnawed at him even as he sat on charge- gaining energy. Was she ok? Did she eat? He didn’t give her anything it’s stupid to think she ate anything, but he couldn’t leave her with nothing—

He ripped himself from the wall and clung to the sides of his head for dear life, huffing angrily as he attempted to recollect himself.

***

“You don’t need to resort to that sir!” Elliot yelled, bounding down the hallway after his boss as he clung to the tablet in his off arm. “I can see if maintenance will run a reboot on your main mon-!” Vox cut him off- pinching the fish sinners lips to keep them shut.

“Just— keep everyone calm until I can get transferred over, ok? And cancel my three o clock I have a special guest who I’ve got to cater to.” A quick zap sent Vox into his office, where he trudged over to that trusty spare. His old cathode head. Many memories, much better thought processing given there wasn’t 50 thousand plus apps inside of his brain at any given time.

Today he’d go classy, if only to grant him some sanity amongst the chaos of the morning.

When he slipped his head off his neck he grunted- not accustomed to doing it himself- but he pushed through, taking the box head and slamming it down on the stump of his neck with a click. In an instant the current from his monitor traveled up his claws, through his veins and back into the old tubing of his old head. He groaned in relief when the old screen buzzed- black and white back into life. Sound hazy around him as static played faintly at the top of his mind.

“Much better-“

Running his hand along the wall he attempted to transport himself but ended up ramming his head into the wall. He cursed and rubbed the side, hoping the plastic didn’t crack. But of course it didn’t. It was covered by a hard wood panel. The smirk on his face was small but satisfied as he pushed the heavy doors open instead, earning a shocked gasp from the cleaning lady outside the door.

“Scuzi!” He said with a laugh, putting a hand on her side to get past her as she gawked. Half of the staff had never even seen his old face, but that wasn’t a shock to him. He’d laid off a good portion of his old staff due to their censorship policies back in the 70’s. All for a partnership.

He scoffed at the thought, tapping his foot the moment he pressed the button for the elevator. When it opened he stepped in quick, looking in a circle for the right button, tatting a tune in search.

“A tut tut tut tuuu ah floor two!” Quickly he pressed it, and the doors shut silently. Pleased he whistled out a faint tune to keep himself company, enjoying the serenity of quiet. He didn’t really enjoy the buzz that came with his screen but he could deal so long as it didn’t make him sound like HIM. Vox shivered a bit, expelling the thoughts from his head. There was barely a recollection as to why he came down to the second floor before he realized the entire floor was quiet, stock still and hunched over their computers. He entered slowly and frowned a bit, before standing up taller on the center and putting his hands on his hips.

“Hey fellas.”

The office greeted him in scattered ways, each tone displaying a bit of hesitancy in doing so, heads still kept shoved into their screens.

“What’s goin’ on… what’s happening?” His tone was cheerful but his face was speculative as he scanned the area.

“Everything cool?”

No employee spoke and chills ran down his spine. He shook his head to the side and ran a hand down his face.

“Come on guys! Was NO ONE watching the fucking door? Did no one seem to think- hey- this woman seems important, maybe Ill look up from my computer- FOR THREE SECONDS- to- '' in his rage he watched all the faces pop up like meerkats from their desks and he rapidly waved his hands down. “No no! By all means- keep working. Not like what I did fucking mattered when I was taking EXPLICIT MEASURES to keep someone here!” They all turned their heads down. And he stormed away, backing up at the end of the room, he swept a point across the room.

“All your pay is getting cut-” groans rung out from every corner of the room, some people slamming their fists on their desks or putting their head in their hands. “Fucking, lazy-ass millenials. STUPID-” He muttered, wildly gesturing as he paced the halls, turning around and flipping shit over when he couldn't find her.

“FUCK-” another trashcan went whizzing down the hallway and three armed guards appeared with a whistle. “Spread out and find the bitch. I want her BACK here by 2:45. If you dont Im having your asses expedited to Val.” The guards turned to one another, grimaces across their faces as they stood still. Vox grabbed one by the collar, standing tip-toe to get in his face. “GOOO already get out- are you listening???”

***

“Let me the fuck go! Your boss already said he didn't need me… here..” Vox stood with a stone cold expression on his face, arms crossed in annoyance, desperately trying not to just take his hand and-

“I was worried sick!” Vox squeaked out, rushing over and taking her from the guards arms, holding her limply in his grasp. He brushed hair from her face, looking over her with horrified arms. “You left even though I said not to– what if you would have gotten killed, or picked up or or- I don't know.” A gasp, he took a breath and tried to recollect himself. “Im glad youre ok-”

“Let me go you sick bastard!” She pushed against his face, wriggling around in his arms as he watched in a feigned look of surprise. He cooed fakely, shushing her and pushing her other hand away when she tried to reach up again. Her final attempt ended with him grabbing her forearm and staring her straight in the face.

“Stop, stop it, stop- look at me. Look-” He pressed his head against her forehead as she tried to pull back. “You're being belligerent, you need to stop.” The guards left them to do what they needed to as Vox ushered her by the arm over her head and into a smaller meeting room nearby.

When they entered and he locked the door he allowed her to break away, growling in fury (rightfully so). Disinterested, he watched her pull at her head before turning to him. He didn’t do anything but raise an eyebrow as she shook a finger at him, body tense. Admittedly when she shoved him he was surprised but he shoved her right back.

She seemed shocked before he stood above her.

“Do not act that way with me. I could’ve let those men do away with you instead. Would you have liked that? To be thrown out and abused at the hands of jack offs who don’t understand you?”

“You’re crazy!”

“Maybe!” He asserted, pulling her up by the shoulder and shaking her so she’d face him. “But maybe that keeps you safe, because any other person who would DARE, to push me would be strung and shot with a smile.”

A bell rung elsewhere and he turned his head in its direction.

“Sit down-“ he said, shoving her in a seat and pointing. “I’m calling lunch in, you’re going to eat and we’re going to have a lovely little meal together. Are. We. clear?”

In a snap the walls around the room transformed, changing into a cushy upper class living room pulled from the 1950s. She looked around, holding onto the plush red seat beneath her.

“This is sick.”

“Manners.” A zap was sent through the floor and up into the chair, causing her to pull her arms back and gasp in shock. “If you want lunch you’re going to have to behave. If not I’ll have to eat alone.” He tilted his head to the side. “Neither of us want that, and my faculty definitely doesn’t want that so, don’t paint a bigger red mark on your back.”

“I thought you didn’t want me.”

“Legalities remember”

“What’s with the setup then?” She retorted, gesturing to the room now.

“It’s more comfortable.” He lied, crossing one leg over another before pulling a newspaper out from his suit jacket and opening it flippantly.

She sat restlessly.

“So you’re going to pull me in and not talk to me?”

“Hmm? Im sorry doll I cant hear you from over here, you’re going to have to get closer.”

#Vox x Reader #yandere vox x reader #Vox x female Reader #yandere Vox x female Reader #vox x cis!fem reader #yandere Vox x cis!fem reader #Tw: depictions of violence #Tw: depictions of misogyny #yandere vox fanfic #ITTSD pt2

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 24

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (OFC. But you do not have to read the others in the series to understand this fic.)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @themaradwrites @munstysmind @thebejeweledwatercat @fanficanatic-tw @asirensrage @kmc1989 @karimac @theesirenteller @residentdormouse @alisbackalleybbq @ninjasawakenedmystar @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @occommunity

Warnings: profanity, (very minimal) gun violence, (brief mention) blood, (minor) physical violence (I mean, the guy's a mercenary, mmmkay)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/132270193

My tag list is OPEN. Please just let me know if you'd like to be added :)

******

As smoke billows heavily from the garbage room and fire alarms blare, he leads her down the hall; a firm, protective hand on the back of her neck as they blend seamlessly into the steady flow of guests that head for the closest stairwell. Taking an alternate route would have caused too much suspicion; The Continental’s clientele well-versed in how to be deceptive and how to spot those guilty of the same. The majority is immensely loyal to Winston; with eyes that are forever curious and peeled and ears that are always open and lurking for even the smallest hint of trouble.

Drawing attention is the last thing he wants; keeping his rifle pressed tightly against his side as he makes random, mundane small talk with a clearly nervous and fearful Esme. Knowing that his voice -if kept low and steady and reassuring- is enough to calm her down and keep her focused; needing both his presence and the security and the confidence that he’s always been able to instil in her. Using both words and the pressure on her neck to keep her moving; encouraging her to match his slow and steady gait as opposed to adopting anything more frantic and hurried.

The growing crowd notices nothing amiss; intently focused on the reality of their situation as opposed to what others are doing around them. Chattering and grumbling to one another in a mixture of confusion, slight concern, and immense annoyance; questioning the cause of the fire and bemoaning disrupted naps and schedules as they pull on sweaters and overcoats. He never makes eye contact; his hand slipping from the nape of Esme’s neck to the small of her back as he steers her towards the stairwell. Pausing to hold the door open for others; accepting the words of appreciation tossed in his direction and returning them with nothing more than a simple nod. And when the last person begins making their way down the stairs, he lingers briefly on the threshold; waiting until the others are a flight below before turning on his heel and quietly closing the door behind him.

Fishing the lone key from his jacket pocket, he jams it into the control box and turns it all the way to the left; the toe of a filthy, well-worn combat boot rhythmically tapping against immaculate, gleaming marble as they wait for the elevator to reach their floor. Beside him, Esme nervously rocks back and forth on her heels and chews anxiously on the inside of her cheek; her eyes fearful, her complexion a washed out, almost sickly gray. Taking advantage of the lull in activity, he reaches out to gently tug on her hair; shooting her a wink and flashing a brief yet reassuring smile when she glances up at him.

The lift noisily rumbles to a stop, and as the door opens, he moves his hand to the small of her back; applying firm yet gentle pressure as he encourages her to step on, then directs her to stand against the side wall. Out of sight in case an employee beckons the elevator from another floor; wanting to avoid both a confrontation and the chance of her impending departure getting back to Winston.

He shoves the key into the control panel; holding it in place as his free hand activates the two-way radio clipped to his vest. “We’re in the elevator now. Heading to the basement, level one.”

“Copy,” Nik responds. “We’re right behind you; southwest stairwell, seventh floor.”

“Any word from Wick? About the outside?”

“He’s stationed across the street. Taken up position on the roof. His people are here; fire trucks out front, men inside checking the situation, evacuating people. Should make it easier for you to get around.”

“Armoured car?”

“ETA three minutes. It’ll be waiting for you.”

“How much time do I have?”

“Fourteen minutes. Before the hotel’s security system goes back online.”

Esme urgently tugs on his sleeve, whispering: “Ask about Millie” when he glances down at her.

“Have you heard from Alcott? About how things went?”

“They made it safely out of and away from the building. Met no resistance. They’re at the designated spot; Wick will join them once you and Esme are away from the building and you give the all-clear.”

“Millie?”

“I’m assuming she’s fine. Alcott didn’t say otherwise. No news is good news.”

“What about Winston? Any sign of him?”

“Not that I was told. I know that doesn’t exactly fill you with a sense of confidence…”

“I’ll handle him. If I have to.”

“Tyler…”

“We talked about this. You know where I stand. I’ll handle him.” Releasing the comms button on his transmitter, he gives Esme a small yet reassuring smile. “She’s good. They didn’t have any problems getting outta here. They’re a few blocks away, waiting on us to get the fuck out. And to pick up Wick.”

Esme breathes an audible sigh of relief. “I’ve just been so worried about her. She’s just so sensitive, you know? I know she’s tough and resilient, and she’s crazy smart, but she’s still just a little girl. It’s always just been her and I, and it was hard enough telling her that she couldn’t come with us, never mind sending her with someone else.”

“I don’t necessarily like the idea of her with other people, either. But it was the right decision to make; if things go wrong, at least she isn’t around to suffer because of it. And like you said, she’s in great hands.”

“I don’t trust many people when it comes to her. I wouldn’t send her with just anyone.”

“I know. I trust your instincts. And your choices. I wouldn’t have gone along with it if I didn’t.”

“I just didn’t want you to think that I’m neglectful or thoughtless or that I just leave her with random people. I just…”

“I don’t think any of those things. I never would. You did the right thing for Millie. Do you really think I would have gone along with it if I didn’t think that?”

Esme shakes her head.

“Stop doubting yourself. You’re a good mum, Me. You’re an amazing mum. You’ve done right by her. And I know it wasn’t easy; doing it all yourself. There’s no doubting how much you love her. How you’ve devoted your entire life to her.”

“She’s my baby. She became my entire world. And if anything happens to her…”

“Listen to me.” Laying a hand on the back of her neck, he firmly squeezes. “Nothing is going to happen to her. Alcott will make sure of that. She’s safe. And you’ll see her soon. I promise.”

“You’re not worried about her? Or scared or…”

“You kidding? I’m scared shitless. But I know she’s gonna be alright. She’s with people that would do anything to protect her. I wouldn’t have gone along with sending her with them if I didn’t truly believe that. Now…” He re-checks the tightness on her vest. “...what I need you to do is just breathe. Stay calm, keep your eyes and your ears open, and let me know if something doesn’t feel right. Okay?”

She nods.

“You just gotta breathe, Esme. Just breathe and trust me.”

“I do. I DO trust you.”

Patting down the pockets on her coat, he reaches into the left one and removes a black, purple and pink striped beanie. Gently slipping the garment onto her head and then giving her a wink as he tugs it down over her ears. “It’s cold out.”

She manages a smile; briefly leaning her body into his before once again issuing a long, heavy sigh. “Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“You KNOW.”

“What YOU know is that I hate when you talk in riddles.”

“You’re not going to go after him, are you? Winston?”

“Not intentionally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You either are, or you aren’t. What…?”

“I’m not going looking for him. That’s not what I’m here for. I’m not going to search the place; hunt him down like a rabid dog. Even if it IS what he deserves.”

“But?”

“If he tries to stop me from getting you out of here, then I’ll deal with him.”

“Tyler..”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want hear about the fucking rules of this place; how they're the only thing separating us from the animals. Or whatever bullshit he likes to preach. And I especially don’t want to hear about The High Table. Those fuckers have caused enough damage and enough problems to last a lifetime.”

“They are not the people you want to piss off. Haven’t you learned that by now? That they’re not the type of people you want to cross? After everything they did five years ago…”

“I already talked to Nik. If it comes to having to kill Winston and live with The High Table on my ass, she and Yaz will make sure you and Millie were kept safe. Taken care of.”

“So we basically just go back to the way things were? You in one place, us in the other?”

“If it has to be that way, then…”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. Five years wasn’t enough? I realize that was all my fault, and I can’t go back and make a different decision; I can’t ever erase what I did or make things right. But we just found each other again. After YEARS apart. And Millie just finally got her dad. And you’re willing to just say ‘fuck it’ and throw all that away?”

“I don’t want to fight. Especially right now. I don’t…”

“I’m not trying to fight. I’m trying to make sense of it. We are so close to having everything we wanted. Everything we should have gotten five years ago. And yet, you’re okay with losing that? For a second time? I don’t…”

“I’m not okay with anything. It’s not like I want to throw it away. It’s not like I love the idea of things going back to the way they were and…”

“You can’t retaliate. I know you’re pissed off; about that sniper coming after you and putting Millie in danger. And I know you hate this weird, gross obsession that Winston has when it comes to me. Believe me, I don’t particularly like the thought of it either. I understand why you’d want revenge. Part of me wants it to. But to go against The High Table and put a target right on your back…”

“I don’t care about me. If it comes down to protecting you…”

“You think it’s caring about me to put yourself in danger like that? Do you think that’s caring about Millie? You think we want you having to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?”

“Don’t I already do that?”

“Trust me when I say this, Tyler: there isn’t anyone you’ve gone against that is as vicious and cold-blooded and unforgiving as The High Table. They won’t just kill you. That’s going easy on someone, as far as they’re concerned. They will make you suffer. They will abuse you and torture you until you’re begging them to put a bullet in your head. Even then, that won’t even be enough. They’ll stop and give you a few days rest and then start all over again. And that will last weeks. Maybe months. Maybe even years. Do you think I want that? Them doing things to you? I already saved you from that shit once. Don’t make me do it again.”

“Don’t threaten me with that. Don’t…”

“I’m not threatening you. I’m begging you. Please don’t go after him. Don’t let him reel in you like that. He wants you to react. He wants you to snap and do something drastic because he knows he can’t bring you down any other way. None of his threats have worked. Offering you money didn’t work. The sniper didn’t get the job done. And he’s not going to get his own hands dirty. He wants you to draw blood on Continental grounds so that The High Table will come for you. How can you not see that? That he will do whatever he has to ruin everything. To ruin YOU. Don’t fall for his shit. You are way too smart for that.”

“I can’t let him hurt you. I can’t let ANYONE hurt you. And if he gets in my way…”

“If you’re not going to think of yourself, at least think of me. And Millie. We NEED you. We’ve always needed you.”

“You’ve already done almost five years on your own. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. If you have to…”

“It isn’t about ‘having to.’ It’s about not WANTING to. I don’t want to do this alone anymore. I didn’t want to do it alone the first time! I am begging you, Tyler. Don’t do this to me. To Millie. To US. Please don’t.”

“What am I supposed to do? If he tries to stop us? If he won’t let me take you out of here. How am I supposed to handle that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t…”

“Well, you better figure it out fast.” He glances up at the illuminated numbers above the elevator doors. “Because we have two floors to go and if we step out there without a fucking plan…”

“I don’t know. I don’t…” Briefly closing her eyes, Esme takes in a long, quivering breath. “...I’m just begging you not to kill him. I’m not saying you can’t defend me. Or yourself. He won’t break the rules; he’s not going to draw blood on Continental grounds.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. He’s not above The High Table. NO ONE is. He breaks one of their golden rules, and they WILL punish him. They will strip him of his management, deconsecrate this place, and allow it to become a bloodbath in here. He knows it, and he won’t even chance it. The power that comes with running The Continental and being in The High Table’s good graces are what matters most to him.”

“You’re sure of that.”

“I’ve spent enough time here…enough time around Winston…to know what he treasures most of all. And it isn’t me. It’s power. He won’t risk losing that. Not even for you.”

“So we just talk it out? What do we do? If he tries to stop us? You better hurry, Esme. Because once those doors open…”

“You just can’t draw blood. You can threaten him. You can rough him up. You just can’t kill him. You find another way to handle things. You’re smarter than you think, Tyler. Way smarter. If anyone can handle Winston and play him at his own game, it’s you.”

“So I’m allowed to at least beat the shit out of him?”

“Within reason. If you start, you have to know when to stop. Don’t cross a line you can’t cross back over. That’s all I’m asking. Because I love you, and I need you. And I’m trying to protect you. So just please…PLEASE…remember who you’re dealing with and what he wants from you. And DON’T give it to him.”

Tyler nods slowly as he considers her words, then lays a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him. Covering her mouth with his in a long, deep kiss that lasts until a melodic tone announces that the elevator has reached its final destination. Pulling away, a gloved hand tightly squeezes her neck. g “We’re going to be alright.”

“Stronger together than we are apart.”

“Yeah…” He offers a slow yet shaky grin. “...we are.”

*****

The rifle moves slowly; controlled by a steady and confident grip as it makes sweeping passes over closed doors, hidden alcoves, and empty hallways. The silence within the bowels and dark recesses of The Continental deafening; exacerbating the sound of every breath they take and the brush of their soles against the cement floor. Coming to an abrupt halt when voices puncture the stillness; muffled conversations within the laundry room as employees shut down equipment and prepared to evacuate the building. And when they grow louder and closer, and he hears the faint squeak of an opening door, he mutters a "fuck...fuck....FUCK" and seizes her by the front of her vest; quickly and aggressively dragging her into an alcove. His back pressed against the wall as he pulls her much smaller and lighter body into his; a forearm draped across her collarbone and a hand covering her mouth in order to ensure her silence.

When the threat passes, he issues a sigh of relief; an arm ushering her behind him as they once more continue their journey. Vaguely aware of the hold she has on his jacket; her footfalls light and quiet as opposed to his awkward, shuffling gait. His weight and size proving to be detrimental; creating unwanted noise that seems to echo throughout the basement and bounce off the surrounding walls. And they’re fifty yards away from freedom when it happens; an unmarked door tossed open, followed by cocky, smirking Winston stepping out into the hall.

“You really didn’t think you’d get away with this, did you? That I wouldn’t catch wind of your little plan? That someone wouldn’t give you away? Not very smart, are you.”

“Stay back,” Tyler warns. “Don’t come any closer. Don’t…”

“You came into my home, where you’re certainly not welcome, and proceeded to ignore every rule laid out in front of you. Not to mention disrespected not only me, The Continental itself, but all of those who seek and take refuge here. Just who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the one that’s getting Esme out of here. Away from you. Out from under your thumb. It’s over, Winston. She’s not yours to protect. She never was.”

“You seem to forget that if it weren’t for me, she’d be long dead. And so would your child. In fact, that little one would have never even been born. She exists BECAUSE of me. Because I opened my doors to her mother. Because I gave her a safe haven. Which is something you couldn’t do. Something you’ll NEVER be able to do.”

“I’m going to need you to take a couple of steps back. ‘Cause if you come any closer to her…”

“In case you haven’t noticed by now, Mister Rake, you don’t intimidate me. Not in the slightest. I’m not threatened by you, nor am I scared of you. And I certainly don’t respect you.”

“Never thought I’d say this, but we actually have something in common. Because I feel the exact same way about you.”

“You are under MY roof. This is my home. My KINGDOM. Mine and mine alone. I certainly didn’t want you here; your type is never welcome at The Continental. And believe me, I did everything in my power to prevent you from even stepping foot in this city, never mind this establishment. But even I have my limits. My weaknesses. I admit that I DID succumb to her…how should I put this…feminine wiles.”

Esme hurries out from her ‘safe place’; managing half a step before finding herself blocked by his much larger, heavier body. “And what the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?

“Get back,” Tyler orders, using a forearm to once more tuck her behind him. “Don’t engage. Don’t even look at him. Just stay right there and keep quiet.”

“You know exactly what that means,” Winston informs her. “You have an uncanny ability; the gift of being able to manipulate people into doing exactly what you want. A well-placed smile or pout. Those big, dark eyes. That ‘damsel in distress’ air that you so easily adopt. Even those well versed in your true self fall for it; strong, noble men that never crack under pressure, never break a sweat under even the most dire of circumstances. You act shy and coy and sweet and…”

“That’s not true. I’ve never acted like that. Not with you. Not with ANYONE.”

“You’ve made a living…and a very lucrative one at that… doing those very things. Isn’t that why you’re here in the first place? Why you needed my help? My protection? For years you’ve conned the very best; talked and flirted and lied and…if I may be so bold…even whored…”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Tyler snarls. “Don’t you EVER…”

“... your way into their good graces. Their lives. Their BEDS. How long have you gotten away with it? How many men HAVE you fooled? How many have fallen in love with you, only to have their entire world crumble underneath them?”

“Those were jobs,” Esme argues. “Nothing more. Nothing less. That’s all they were. I never…”

“Never what? Meant to take things that far? Use them in ways that go far beyond your job description? You can’t tell me that Alessio was the first that you devoted so much time and energy to. Eight months. Nearly three-quarters of a year. You became part of his family and even accepted his proposal. You allowed him to raise your daughter, you…”

“He treated Millie like complete and utter shit! Like she was subhuman. He wanted to send her away! To boarding school! A four-year-old! A baby! He…”

“And just who enabled his behaviour? Who allowed him to be around the child? Who was so desperate to have a father in their daughter’s life that…”

“You fucking asshole!” Esme lunges forward; immediately finding herself snagged by the hood on her jacket and aggressively yanked backwards.

“Stop!” Tyler orders. “Just stop. This is what he wants. He wants us to react. Lash out. Do something stupid. So just get behind me and stay there. And don’t say another goddamn word!”

“That’s Millie he’s talking about! My daughter! OUR daughter! She’s just a little girl. A baby. She…”

“He’s using her to get to you. To get to US. Now just get behind me and stay there. And keep quiet. Got it?”

“But…”

“Got it?”

She tearfully nods, then obediently tucks herself behind him.

“You are noble.” Winston addresses Tyler. “I will give you that. Perhaps not the most intelligent, but…”

“I’m only going to tell you once. Get out of the way.”

“So gallant. So eager to protect And so damn devoted. To a fault, even. Do you not see what she’s doing to you? The pattern? Isn’t this how it all began? You protecting her? SAVING her?”

“Winston, back away. Before…”

“Before what?” The older man chuckles. “Before NOTHING. Are you that oblivious? To how you’re being played? Not just once, but TWICE?”

“I’m not taking the bait. I know what you want from me. You want me to snap. You want to be able to paint me as unstable. Unhinged. An unnecessary threat. You want to be able to tell everyone that you acted in self-defence. That I had no reason to act the way I did. You want to be able to kill me; break all the High Tables rules. And then get away with it by making up some bullshit on how it was justified.”

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are more intelligent than I give you credit for.”

“It’s not going to work, Winston. No matter what you say or do. I’ve had much worse said to me. DONE to me. By WAY better.”

“She’s using you, Mister Rake. Just like she used you in Dhaka. She has no morals. She doesn’t care who she hurts. She brings men like you…like US…to our knees. She…”

“You and I? We are nothing alike.”

“We are EXACTLY alike. As much as it pains me to admit it. She’s conned us both. Used us. Manipulated us. Only with you, she got away with it TWICE.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You know nothing; about Esme and I and what went down between us and Dhaka.”

“Word travels fast in the circle. You should know that by now. You should also know that you’re the laughing stock. Everyone talks about it. About YOU. You may be a hero. You may be a legend. But you’re also a damn fool.”

“I’m only going to tell you once more, Winston. Get out of my way. You either move on your own, or I do it for you. And you don’t want that, believe me.”

“I’ll tell you something else. What happened two days ago? In your room? It’s the last time I hire an outsider. To get a job done. It was simple; I told them who the target was and exactly where to find him. Yet here you are. Standing in front of me. Still breathing. You’re a hard one to kill, Mister Rake.”

“I fucking knew it. As soon as it happened. I knew you were behind it. Why? Of all places to try and take me out, why there? With Millie in the room? She’s a baby. MY baby. Why…?”

“Unfortunately, when it comes to war, there’s always collateral damage.”

The rage is overwhelming. All consuming. And in one quick movement, he drives the butt end of his rifle into the side of Winston’s face; the older man roaring in both surprise and pain as he drops into a bloody heap. Blood thunders in his ears as he tosses the weapon aside and then stalks towards his prey; placing a knee in the middle of the other man’s chest as he changes his method of attack. Restoring to using his fists; raining punches down on Winston’s already battered head and face. Oblivious to Esme's initial orders and then her desperate pleas for him to stop; ignoring her as she attempts -in vain- to pull him away. Unable to control either strength or aggression, he pushes her away; causing her to lose her balance and fall heavily onto her rear in the middle of the dirty floor.

“Tyler! No!” As he reaches for his rifle, she scrambles to her knees and then her feet; rushing towards him in a frantic attempt to yank the weapon from his hands. Both arms wrapping around one of his as he places the muzzle against Winston’s forehead, finger poised on the trigger. “Tyler! Stop! Please don’t do this! Don’t…!”

“Just step away, Esme. That’s all you gotta do. Just step away.”

“Please don’t,” she tearfully pleads. “You don’t want to do this. It’s not worth it. HE’S not worth it.”

“You heard what he said. It WAS him. That tried to kill me. Millie was right there. She was in the room. That sniper aimed right at her.”

“Tyler, this isn’t what Millie would want. You kept her safe, yeah? You made sure nothing happened to her. You SAVED her. She’s alive because of you. And she’s waiting for us. She’s waiting for YOU. Her dad. She needs you, okay? She’s always needed you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t make that happen. That I kept her from you. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I never meant for it to get this far.”

“You have nothing to do with this. With HIM. So just step away and…”

“You and Millie just found each other. After all this time. You get to be a father again. And she finally gets her dad. The one she’s been asking about. Don’t rob her of that, okay? Don’t rob her of you. I already did. Don’t you do it to her, too.”

“Esme…”

“I can’t let you do that to her. I just can’t.”

“He deserves it. For him to have his head fucking blown off..”

“Maybe he does. But I don’t want you to be the one who does it. We are so close. To having everything we ever wanted. Please don’t throw that away. Please don’t throw ME away.”

Initially pressing the muzzle harder against Winston’s head, he finally relents, index finger slipping off the trigger as he backs away. And while Winston stumbles to his feet, Tyler once more takes hold of Esme’s hand and guides her behind him.

The older man smirks; using his tie and the sleeve of his suit jacket to clear the blood and sweat from his face. “You realize you just signed your death warrant. Both of yours, for that matter. You drew blood on Continental grounds. That’s rule one: no business is to be conducted on company property.”

“Just let us go, Winston,” Esme attempts to reason with him, struggling to remain calm despite the hammering in both chest and head. “It doesn’t have to go any further than this. It doesn’t have to escalate. Just let us go.”

“You know that can’t happen. It WON’T happen. I was never going to let either of you escape. The child, yes. She has many people who love her. Who will gladly step up and take care of her in your absence.”

“You’re going to kill both of us? Is that it? That was always your plan?”

“I’m not going to kill you. Why would I waste such a wonderful, beautiful asset? I’m not a stupid man, Esme. Don’t treat me as such.”

“When I told you I was hiring Tyler, and you agreed to let him into The Continental, you told me you’d let us go. That we’d be free to just walk out of here. You PROMISED me.”

“Well, you see, my love, like you, I too have to lie from time to time. To get my way.”

“You’re fucking crazy. Why would I ever stay here with you? Why would I want to? Especially after all of this. You think I’d just forgive you? For everything you’ve done? For keeping my daughter from me? For killing Tyler? You think I’d just learn to be okay with all of that?”

“I can have your daughter brought back. At any time. All you have to do is ask nicely and…”

“And do as I’m told? Is that what you were going to say? All I would have to do is be a quiet, obedient, submissive little thing, is that it? Play along? Be a trophy for you; someone you could parade around? Show off? Feed your ego? Cure your limp dick? Is THAT what you were going to say?”

“You are a feisty one. Always have been. I can give you a life. A very good one at that. You’ll never want for nothing. There’s nothing I can’t give you. Why won’t you let me do that? Give you the world? Why…?”

“I would rather put a bullet in my fucking brain than spend another minute here with you.”

“You’ll learn to love it. Life here. Where you’re safe.”

“I’m not staying here. So you’re going to have to kill me, too. Because I’ll do it myself. I’ll find a way. I will NOT be some toy for you.”

“But you’ll be one for him? Some ‘no one’. You’ll accept a life with THAT? Over one with me?”

Esme remains defiant. “I’d rather be his whore than your wife.”

“You really would choose him? An alcoholic, drug-addicted mercenary who abandoned his dying child?”

“Don’t talk about him like that.” Her hand disappears underneath the hem of her jacket; fingertips brushing against the handle of the Glock. “Don’t EVER talk about him like that. Don’t even say his name.”

“I don’t know who is more blind. Him or you. He can’t see what you’re doing to him, and you can’t see him for who he truly is. A nobody. No more than some two-bit thug who…”

“Winston, I am warning you. DON’T talk about him like that.”

“You’re more foolish than he is. You realize that, don’t you? The fact you would turn down a life with me for a pathetic, miserable existence with him? He doesn’t deserve you. Don’t you see that? He’ll never change. This is who he will always be. He’ll never give this up. This life. Not for you, not for your daughter. You can’t change him. You can’t save him. No matter how desperately you want to.”

Slipping the gun from its holster, she removes it from under her coat before either man has a chance to stop her.

Winston gives a mocking chuckle.. “And what are you going to do with that, little one? What…?”

“It’s not what I’m going to do. It’s what YOU’RE going to do.”

“And that would be?”

“You’re going to let us out of here. You’re going to keep your promise. Or I will put a bullet in your fucking skull.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Like I told Alessio earlier. I don’t bluff.”

Behind her, the doors to the kitchen swing open, and she quickly pivots; training the gun on the figure that strides into the hallway.

“Miss Drummond,” Both Charon’s voice and eyes are soft. Reassuring. Kind. And he holds his hands up in a plea for peace, signifying to both Esme and Tyler that he poses no threat. “If you would be so inclined as to hand me your weapon.”

“I can’t. Not unless he lets us go. He’s going to kill Tyler. And keep me here. Away from Millie. He’s…”

“He’s going to do no such thing,” Charon assures her and slowly reaches for the weapon; giving a calm, gentle smile as he gingerly plucks it from her hand. “You’re safe. You’re BOTH safe. No ill is going to come to either of you.”

“But he said…”

“What he said doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to happen to you. Either of you. You’re going to walk out of here. Together. And you’re going to be reunited with your little girl. Very soon.”

“It was him, you know. That hired that sniper. To kill Tyler. He didn’t care that Millie was there. She could have been killed, too. And he didn’t even give a shit. That’s my little girl. My baby. And he didn’t even care.”

“I know. Of his involvement. The news of such I didn’t learn until this morning. But she is safe now. She’s away from here. This place. This life. And if you want to see her again…”

“It’ll never happen,” Winston interjects. “My people are already on their way. They’ll be here in minutes. So I suggest…” He glances at Esme, then at Tyler. “...that if you have anything to say to each other, you do it now. Or you won’t get the chance.”

“There is NO ONE coming,” Charon informs him. “There is no cavalry.”

“I called them myself.”

“As did I. After you hung up. It’s been called off. And they’re free to go.”

“You can’t make that decision. You…”

“No. But The High Table can. You’re not the only one with friends in power, sir.”

“You’re lying. You’re…”

“I NEVER lie. You should be expecting a visit from The Adjudicator. The High Table was very concerned that you hired someone to do business on Continental grounds. Not even you are above the rules.”

“First Jonathan, now you? Charon, how could you? Betray me like this? After everything we’ve been through. The years we’ve spent together. The battles we faced. All the things I’ve done for you. And THIS is how you repay me? This…”

“THIS is the right thing to do. Now…” He regards Esme over the top rim of his glasses, then holds out the Glock. “...you can be trusted with this? Rule number one…”

“I can be trusted.”

“Good. Now I suggest you leave. The way you have planned. I will meet up with you. At the airport.”

“You’re coming with us? Why? Why are you…?”

“I’m merely tagging along. To make sure you get to your destination. Safely. But if something does happen in the meantime…” Cradling her face in his palms, Charo presses a kiss to each of her cheeks. “...it has been a pleasure, Miss Drummond.”

As tears well in her eyes, she stands on her tiptoes and embraces him tightly. “Thank you. Not just for this. For EVERYTHING”

“I have very much enjoyed your company. And your friendship.”

Shouldering his rifle, Tyler plucks the Glock from Esme’s hand and slips it into the waistband of his pants, then wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her tight against him. He gives Charon an appreciative nod. “Thank you.”

“We will see each other soon, Mister Rake.”

“I hope so.” He begins leading a trembling and terrified Esme away. “I really fucking hope so.”

******

As an armoured SUV waits for them outside the shipping and receiving, Tyler’s eyes quickly scan the immediate buildings for any sign of trouble; any figures lurking in open windows or within the shallow recesses of doors. And when he’s certain it’s safe, he jumps off the platform and then turns to assist Esme. His arms outstretched and waiting for her to make her move; easily and effortlessly catching her and then placing her on the ground. Holding her securely by the wrist as he pulls her in the direction of the vehicle; opening the door with one hand, the other shielding the top of her head from coming in contact with the frame. And he waits until she buckles herself in before shutting the door and hurrying for the driver’s side; slipping behind the wheel and throwing down the overhead visor, allowing the keys to fall into his lap.

“Well…” He guns the ignition. “...that went to shit.”

Esme attempts an apology. And an explanation. “I’m sorry. He just knew exactly what buttons to push. First talking about Millie, then about you. I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t hear another word. He just kept going and going, and I just snapped and…”

“What did I tell you? About listening to me? About never second-guessing a goddamn thing?”

“I just couldn’t listen to it. As if admitting to being the one to hire the sniper wasn’t enough…”

“Esme, I told you to stay quiet. To not engage with him. And I didn’t tell you just once. I told you multiple times. To just shut up and get behind me and let me do my job. Why don’t you listen to me? Why can’t you just do what you’re told? Why…?”

“He just got to me. It was just too much. I can usually handle what people say about me. And I don’t really care that he called me a whore and…:

“I sure as hell fucking cared.”

“...and accused me of being a liar and manipulator. Because I WAS those things. When it came to the job. I DID do those things. I did lie, and I did manipulate people.”

“It was always a means to an end. You did what you had to do. It was work. That’s it.”

“He said the exact same things Gaspar did. About me. About US. About how I used you to get out of Dhaka. And that’s not true. I didn’t lie to you, and I didn’t manipulate you. And I didn’t use you.”

“I know that. I…”

“Everything that happened between us, everything we said to each other, everything we planned? It was all real. Every second, every word. None of that was fake. And for TWO people to insist on it?”

“If I didn’t believe it then, what the hell makes you think I’m going to believe it now? I don’t give a fuck what Gaspar said. And I sure as hell don’t give a shit about anything that came out of Winston’s mouth. I was there too, Esme. In Dhaka. In that hotel room. And it all felt real. It never felt anything BUT real.”

“I just wanted to make sure, that’s all. That you know that none of what Winston said is true and that….”

“Esme, I KNOW. I’ve ALWAYS known.”

“And then when he started in on Millie and then you…”

“Listen, as much as I would love to be able to just sit here and unpack all of this with you and assure you that everything is okay…that WE’RE okay…I can’t do it. Maybe later, but not right now. I need to get us the fuck out of here. Away from this place and out of this city. Out of this COUNTRY. So I’m going to need you to let this shit go. For now. Okay?”

She nods.

“I also need you to toe the fucking line. Because back there? With Winston? That almost ended very badly. And I don’t want to have to deal with something like that again. So, please…I am begging you…listen to me. Do as I say. Got it?”

Tears well in her eyes as both chin and lower lip tremble. “Got it.”

“And please don’t do that. Cry. Because I can’t deal with that right now. I can’t be who you need me to be when you’re this upset and close to freaking out. You hired me to do a job, yeah?”

She nods.

“Then let me do it. Or we are NOT going to get out here. Cooperate. Please.”

“I will. I just…”

“No more. No more talking about this. Just sit there and be quiet and…” His words trail off as his SAT phone vibrates within the confines of the inner pocket of his jacket. And he mutters a ‘fuck me’ as he pulls it out and jams an index finger into the ‘talk’ icon.“What?!”

“Where the hell are you?” Nik inquires. “We’ve been waiting here. At the rendezvous site. Where…?”

“I got a little held up.”

“A little?”

“We’re on our way now. Be there shortly.”

“You’re fifteen minutes past the deadline. Of when the security systems came back on line. Why haven’t you been answering me? On your radio? Did something happen to it or…?”

“I turned it off. In the basement.”

“Tyler…”

“Look, we had an issue, alright?”

“What kind of issue?”

“One I don’t have time to explain. I’m trying to fucking drive!”

“Do I need to remind you who's in charge? Who your boss is? Who gives you orders and signs your paycheck? Do I..?”

“Fuck off, Nik!” He barks, then hangs up and tosses the phone onto the dashboard; unleashing a host of profanities when it bounces off and falls to the floor at Esme’s feet.

Chewing anxiously on her bottom lip, she glances over at him, then down at the cell. And she strains against her seat belt as she leans over to pick it up; placing it in the hands-free holder clipped to the dashboard.

For several minutes, they remain in silence as they make their escape; grateful for the clear and easy path created by the slew of emergency vehicles provided by Wick’s men. To the untrained eye, the FDNY badges and logos seem legit; boldly plastered on the handful of engines and SUVs that not only keep the street directly in front of The Continental car and pedestrian free, but have succeeded in closing down all intersections within a three block radius in each direction.

The closer they get to their meet-up point, the more steady and confident his nerves become. With the confrontation with Winston now pushed onto the back burner, it makes room for cautious optimism; allowing himself to think of not only being reunited with Millie, but of finally being able to start his life -as a partner, soon-to-be husband, and a father- in his homeland. He’s anxious to share the things he loves with his little girl; already dreaming of teaching her to surf and taking her camping and fishing and dirt bike riding. Witnessing as she thrives and grows and gets accustomed to life ‘down under’; making friends and falling in love with the people and the wildlife and taking on an accent.

It’s those thoughts that release the last of the tension in his shoulders and jaw, feeling remarkably lighter as he glances over at Esme; watching as she nervously chews on the inside of her cheek and fidgets with the ties on either side of her hat. He regrets how harsh he’d been with her; the aggression he displayed, and the way he’d barked at her and ordered her around. Lowering himself to reprimanding her as if she were nothing more than a petulant child.

Dropping one of his hands from the steering wheel, he gently sweeps dirt and debris off the thighs of her jeans. “You’re not hurt are you?”

She glances over; a quizzical frown knitting her brows together.

“I didn’t mean to push you as hard as I did. I just meant to get you out of the way. I didn’t…”

“It wasn’t THAT hard. You didn’t hurt me. I just lost my balance. I…”

“That was a pretty hard fall. I didn’t…”

“Tyler…” She grabs a hold of his hand before he can remove it from her leg; managing a smile as she tightly squeezes. “...I’m fine. Honest. Remember when I talked about being thicker too?”

“Oh fuck, not this again…”

“Most of that thickness is in my ass. I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, it’s just made your ass even better. And it was pretty awesome before, so…”

“And you excuse me of unprofessional talk?” she teases. “Aren’t you supposed to be the mature and sensible one in this situation?”

“Fuck mature and sensible. You talking about your ass being thicker? All I can think about is that saying. About ‘more cushion for the pushin’.”

“You are nothing if not predictable,” she chides and releases his hand. “I KNEW as soon as I mentioned my ass, your mind would go there. Right into the gutter.”

“I was a total prick back there. I didn’t…”

“You weren’t. You…”

“No. I was. I shouldn’t have talked to you like I did. You didn’t deserve that. You…”

“You had every right to. I haven’t exactly been the most cooperative client, have I?”

“You’ve been a challenge. I thought maybe the last five years might have calmed you down; gotten you over that whole ‘I listen to no man’ stage.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I tend to listen to you more than other men.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That’s not saying much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. That I just didn’t shut up and do what I was told. I didn’t exactly follow my own advice, did I? About not letting Winston get under our skin.”

“No, you did not.”

“Like I said, I don’t really care what people say about me. I’ve been called way worse by way better. But when he brought up Millie and then started threatening you and talking all kinds shit about you…”

“I’m a big boy, Esme. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You DO need me. In more ways than you’ve ever been willing to admit. I may not be able to protect you the same way you do with me, but I can still have your back. Defend you. Take care of you.”

“And I’m still going to tell you that you don’t need to.”

“We’re going to have to come to some sort of impasse, Tae. Because…” She pauses when she sees the slow, almost boyish grin that spreads across his face. “...what? What’s that little smile for?”

“Nothing. I just haven’t heard you call me that in a long time. I missed it.”

Smiling, she reaches out and rubs his thigh, then squeezes his knee. “I missed saying it.”

“You gotta promise me that you’ll try and rein it in. How much you worry about me. Want to take care of me.”

“You know that’s impossible. It’s just who I am. Who I’ve ALWAYS been. When it comes to you. I’ve always cared too much and worried too much. That’s not going to change, you know. So I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree. About whether or not you need to be protected or not.”

“As long as you promise you won’t go too Mother Hen on me. You know I can’t handle it when you start that babying shit.”

“You are so full of it. You like it when I baby you. I mean, who else is going to put up with you when you’ve got the man flu? You’d probably drive other women completely crazy. They wouldn’t know how to handle you. You’d break them for sure.”

“Well, your sister always was amazed about how I managed to never break YOU in half.”

“I’m made of tough stuff, I guess. Momma didn’t raise a quitter. Or a coward." Yanking off her beanie, she smoothes down her hair and fixes her ponytail. “Did you know? About Charon? That he was part of all this?”

“All I knew was that Nik had someone on the inside. Who got her the blueprints of the hotel, security codes, and all kinds of info. I never would have thought it would be him, though.”

“What do you think made him turn? Against Winston?”

“You heard him; he said it was just the right thing to do. What happened the other day probably pushed him over the edge; the sniper even going after Millie.”

“You never told me that. That they intentionally targeted her.”

“I didn’t see a need to. There was no reason to upset you more than you already were.”

“That must have been terrifying. It’s one thing for people to come after you; you’re used to it. But for them to go after her?”

“I handled it. I did what I had to do. To keep her from getting hurt. But if I ever find exactly WHO pulled that trigger…”

“I give you full permission to shoot them in the head. After you torture them. Slowly and extremely painfully. Do you think he’s going to be okay? Charon? Winston isn’t going to take this lying down; he’s going to view it as a massive betrayal.”

“Winston isn’t dumb enough to try anything. Charon’s got The High Table on his side. Which means, in some weird, fucked up way, they’re on our side too.”

“Better than having to worry about them coming after us. Let’s just hope we never have to call in any favours. Rely on them for anything. Because if I ever have to resort to THAT…”

It happens quickly. Leaving no time to time to react or prepare for impact. The roar of an engine, the glare of headlights cutting through the thin veil of fog, the screeching of brakes. Safety and security suddenly and brutally ripped away; bodies violently jostled within the confines of the SUV as horns blare, glass shatters, and metal crunches and crumbles.

And then, silence.

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake #Extraction/John Wick crossover

[mytheoristavenue]

@mytheoristavenue, can you do a one shot about Donatello stopped having feelings for April after being heartbroken and vowed never to fall in love again, please?

Sure, thanks for the ask!

TMNT 2012 Donatello x Reader - Tough Love

Warnings: Claustrophobia, angst

Summary: You and Donatello get trapped in a security office together, and you take the opportunity to pry as to why he doesn't like you.

You smiled, excited. Splinter had finally granted you permission to go out on a mission with the turtles, feeling you were ready for field work. You giggled as Mikey bowed to you, allowing you to ascend the ladder leading to the surface before him.

The NYC streets suddenly felt more dangerous as you pulled yourself up into the fog that had settled on the wet pavement. You stared for a moment, still halfway out of the pothole.. "Uh, Mamas? Could you move?" A voice called form beneath you startled you out of your trance.

"Oh crap, yeah. Sorry, Mikey." you smiled nervously, climbing out and watching him ascend.

Upon Leo's instruction, you all made your way to TCRI, believing that the Kraang was planning something big. Arriving after a small trek, the leader in blue directing his troupe through the building. “Alright, guys, here’s the plan.” He began quietly. “The bulk of the Kraang are going to under that dome right there,” he explained, pointing to a large dome window with light pouring out of it. “We need to find out what’s in that room, which means we’ll need to hack our way into it. Raph, Mickey and I are going to break into that room after Donnie unlocks it, that way we can try and take out as many droids as we can. Then we’ll all investigate together.”

As Leo finished his speech, Donatello produced a map of the building, explaining which routes everyone would take to get to their positions. You tried listening as intently as you could, but you couldn’t help but feel left out. “Um, Leo,” you piped up, shyly. “What should I do?” You wished you had a shell to crawl into when you noticed the spiteful glare on Don’s face for interrupting him.

“Oh, my bad, (Y/N), I’m still not used to you being with us. You’ll go with Donnie to hack the security system.” he replied with a kind smile. 

“Oh no,” the brown eyed turtle intervened, stubbornly crossing his arms. “Not happening. She’ll just get in my way. I’ll go alone.”

“This is not up for negotiation.” Leo clarified. “She’s going with you, you won’t be any help to us if you get attacked while you’re doing your thing.” You felt so awkward having the boys fight over you. To be honest, you weren’t thrilled to he on Donnie’s team either. He was mean to you and you were never able to do right by him. Finally your partner rolled his eyes and begrudgingly agreed, grunting.

You all broke off into your respective teams when you reached the base of the building. “Just follow me, and stay out of my way.” Don snapped at you harshly as the pair of you began to scale the building. Once close enough to the floor on which the security office lied, he used a small glass cutter to trace out an opening on a large window, before gently setting the cut-out against the floor. You crawled in after him, tripping over the cut-out, and knocking over a desk chair in the process. Donnie whipped around shushing you. “What are you doing, are you trying to get us killed?” he hissed.

“I-I’m sorry, I tripped.” you replied shamefully, dusting yourself off and following him out of the room. The pair of you snuck through the florescent hallway, flattening against the walls to avoid capture. Finally, Donnie found the correct room, easily hacking the keypad and opening the door. You follow him into the room, gazing around at the multiple cameras and controls. The purple clad turtle cracked his knuckles, sitting down in the office chair, before rolling up to the panel to begin his work. 

Flattened against the door, you diligently kept look out to the tune of keys clacking under your partner’s fingertips. Donatello let out a victorious chuckle as the large computer screen in front of him turned green, allowing him access to the manual override. Ringing Leo up on his T-Phone, he notified him that security measures would fall soon, and that he’d only have a short window of opportunity to enter the secret room. Once his older brother confirmed that he understood, Don finished the process of override.

Suddenly, his confident smile fell, as the two exits on either side of the office were barricaded by steel bay doors, the control panel retreated into a crevice in the wall, and a automated voice that said, “ Security override complete. Office lockdown initiated.” 

Donatello began to panic as the lowlight in the room gave way to a red, alerting hue, reaching out  to press as many buttons as he could before the panel fully retracted. After this, he resorted to brute force, joining you in trying to break down the door, but to no avail. “What’s happening?” you asked, concerned for your safety. 

“We’re locked in here until the security system repairs itself. “ he explained frantically, pulling put his phone again tot try to contact Leo. He growled in frustration as his signal failed over and over again, static playing on the screen. “Great, and we’ve got no signal. We’re trapped.”

You slid down the wall to a sit. This was definitely not ideal. Donnie, on the other hand paced back and forth, wracking his brain to find a different solution. Finally, he stopped, dramatically laying out on the floor. “We’ll get out soon when the security goes back online, right?” you asked optimistically. 

“Yeah,” he replied, rolling his eyes and sitting up. “But who knows how long that’ll be, plus when it does, we'll be ambushed.”

“So we’ll fight ‘em off, big deal.” you shrugged with a confident smile. “We got this.”

“You mean I’ll fight them off.” he scoffed, hurting your feelings a bit. 

You huffed, puffing out your cheeks. “I can fight, I’m a ninja too!” you argued. 

“You’re not a ninja. You been training for a few months, that doesn’t mean you’re actually competent enough to be in real combat.”

“Obviously I’m good enough if Splinter let me go out. And besides, Leo told me to help fight off the Kraang if they attack you.”

“Well,” Don sighed tiredly. “Splinter has been wrong before, and Leo just didn’t feel like babysitting you, so he made me do it.” You fell quiet after that, deeply hurt by his words. You hugged your knees, turning away from him. 

“At least I didn’t get us locked in here. That was all you, dude.” A bit of time passed, your insults slowly eating at each other as you sat in silence. “You know,” you piped up, sharply. “You have no reason to be as mean to me as you are. I never did anything to you.”

“Oh, grow up, I’m not mean to you.” Don spat back. “You’re just annoying, you get on my nerves.”

“How?!” you shouted, finally turning back to him, standing and dramatically flailing your arms. “All I do is try to avoid you, I tiptoe around you so I don’t piss you off. I’ve never been anything but kind to you, and all you are is cruel!”

Donatello’s facial expression shifted from annoyance to hurt. “I-I’m not cruel.” he reassured himself. “I’m not cruel!”

“I can’t recall anything nice that you’ve ever said to me.” you snarl, crossing your arms as he stands to his feet as well. 

“Bullshit, I say nice things to you all the time.” he defended himself proximately. “I could compliment you if I wanted to!”

“Oh, yeah?” you laugh ironically. “Do it, then! Try to say anything about me that’s not a blatant insult!”

“You make me smile!” he finally shouted, ironically spitefully. “I smile a lot thinking about some of the things you’ve said. You’re nice to be around.”

You had to admit, you were shocked. “You really mean that?” you asked, shyly as he nodded embarrassed. “Donnie...?” you began, feeling the need to get to the bottom of these hard feelings. “Why don’t you like me?”

“I do like you.” he said flatly. “That’s the problem. I don’t want anything to do with you, but I like you.”

“What do you mean...?” you asked , a little hurt and very confused. 

“After April,” he began with a heavy sigh, sitting down beside you, patting the floor beside him for you to sit with him. “I decided that I was content with being alone. I decided too good to fall in love again, that I was worth more than getting my heart broken again. But then you showed up. I tried really hard to ignore you and deny that I had feelings for you, but it’s hard, ya know?”

“You have feelings for me?” you asked, a hint of wonder in your voice.

“I do. And it pains me everyday. That’s why I’m so cruel to you. I thought that if I was mean enough, you’d just leave me alone, and I’d get over you, but it hasn’t worked yet.” He confessed, hanging his head in shame, waiting for your response. Instead, he got your cold hands cupping his cheeks, pulling him into a needy kiss. He was shocked, to say the least, and his heart pounded in his chest. Just as he felt your lips begin to pull away form lack of reception, he grabbed your shoulders, eagerly kissing back. 

When he finally pulled away, you panted from lack of air. “I like you too.” you breathed. “I really do.” As you leaned back into him, the lights begin to fade back into their original color, and the voice came over the intercom again.

“Security system online. Office lockdown lifted.” Withy that, the bay doors began to roll up, exposing the exits to the pair of you. From beyond the doors, you both can hear robotic chattering approaching quickly. Donatello glanced at you, jumping up. 

“You ready to kick some ass?” he asked with a confident smile, which widened when you nodded. He snuck you a peck on the cheek, fulling you up with him as you took a defensive stance. 

“Let’s do it.”

#tmnt donatello #donatello #donatello hamato #donatello x reader #tmnt donnie 2012 #tmnt #TMNT 2012 #tmnt donatello 2012 #ask #answered ask #requests #follower request #requests open

[siremasterlawrence]

Lawrence’s Puppet’s

Part 1

Chris Evans is one day away from his next project a return to a new Marvel Studios run project and he is not truly too excited about the anxiety that comes with it.

I have manage to follow follow his girlfriend to his home in to the secretly kept house as the car parks and exit out match each of her steps.

Chris holds the door open for her pulling her in to a sweet kiss, with smirk in the back of him I place a tiny mind control chip in to the back of his head.

The chip melts in to the back of neck sinking in deep under it washing through his system to flush in to his blood stream I knew that I and him.

His girlfriend reacts fast as he freezes with no effort and is totally under my control now and she attempts to make an escape.

I smirk flipping Chris completely off then open the panel of the house shutting every thing down including the doors and the lights.

Chris Evans mind is transporting into a mind enhancing computer system I have created in spite of it all.

I glee with excitement as my cell vibrates out of control alerting me to the beginning process.

Chris eyes roll back into their sockets, body slumps falling in to the wall, and drool falls

on to his cheek.

“Tsk…tsk…tsk…you can’t escape and Chris is mine now.”

“Why are you doing this to us?”

“Oh! I don’t want you”

“Wait! What?”

“Ssssshhhhhh….take a deep breath”

“Nnnnoooo….aaaahhhhh!”

“You will never remember any of this by the morning.”

“It will all but a dream”

“Just your paranoia.”

His girlfriend is in for a shock lifting a tall spray canister in her face backing her up to the wall.

The canister shook in my hand then my tiny finger pressing the tip of it letting the fog of aerosol go in to the air.

It hit his face head on she sneezes out loud soon their eyes falls deep a sleep closing as she slump on the door.

She fell forward in to my arms as I lay her on to the floor leaving her to fall in to a deep lifeless state.

I pick up both arms dragging her into the end of the hallway her body shifts out till her shadows over the cast the grounds of his home.

I take her keys out placing her in the car then snap my finger as she and the rest of the people in his life disappear forever all time.

I open my cell phone typing in my password to see type screen blow up showcasing all of the transactions.

His brain function, heart rate and more so o can be aware of his health I can’t stop my mind of lusting after him.

I hear a huge bing telling me he is ready at last inside my home Chris the puppet wakes up staring mindlessly at the wall.

“Perfect! If I have my way and I already do my dear Chris.”

“Rise from your comatose state indulge my place.”

“Walk to me my love, and forget the entirety of the world you live in.”

“Stand next to me, say good by to your world.”

“BYE!”

“Mwahahahahaha”

“Soon we will arise once more”

“You will be my main and private attraction”

“Sir Yes Sir”

Twenty hours later I walk in to pitch black room slamming the door to see a solo light raining down on Chris Evans tied to a chair.

“Wake up!”

“Snap”

“Master Lawrence “

“It’s show time”

“Sir Yes Sir”

Part 2

Sebastian Stan woke up in strange bedroom in a unfamiliar location overlooking bright blue guise of the ocean.

Panic set in racing towards the door he jolt up at the knob turning forcing him to back up to his surprise.

Captain America himself dances in the room Chris Evans in just a sexy male maids outfit showing off his skin.

He smirks grabbing his crotch then moving to him, Sebastian some how for no reason at all is sort of transfixed by the event.

Chris does a spin then with a hand and leg latches on to Sebastian shoving him to the chair.

He sits on his lap doing a lap dance throbs are hard and tense seducing him in to boiling mess.

Chris kissed him slowly exciting him up his hand hits his chest placing the device on him letting it sink.

Sebastian can no longer think one thing in that mindless fogged up brain of his is what lucky man.

Sebastian cannot feel the connection of skin wire or machine entangling with sweat and bones brainwashing him.

“Hello everyone! My name is Chris E and my Master has a show for you.”

“Sit back and relax “

“If you want a private show fork over the doe”

“Give it up for Sebastian “

“He is out for lunch at the moment “

“He will join us soon”

“Until then let’s play with his body”

“Hell! Yeah”

“One at a time”

“Master Lawrence will be proud”

“Careful don’t ruin it “

“You buy the merchandise you break”

“Look at him”

“A bitch in heat”

“Can I fuck him?”

“I want him raw”

“I’ll cook him with my cock”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

One man losses his marbles races up the staircase by passing everyone grabbing hold of him.

Yanking him up by the collar the man wraps his body over him getting hands his hand slips in to his pants.

“I’ve been waiting for you “

“I must have you”

“Cough it up “

“Or what ?”

“Pay to use “

“He is Master Lawrence property “

“Fuck that!”

“Move it”

“Fine”

“Baz sit down”

“Everyone out”

“Master! Will be displeased”

“Ummm… Master Lawrence “

“Oh! You are awake”

The end

#chris evans #sebastian stan #total power exchange #hypnosis #Lawrence’s puppets

[nuggsmum]

Nuggs! Always happy to slide into your asks! Coincidentally I'm missing your leading men something fierce today 🥺

How would a coffee shop meet up between Sy from Applewine Valley, Auggie from Unexpected and Walter from The Light look like?

🥺👉👈 (no pressure to answer it feel free to ignore)

Love ya!

Ohhhhh. Ok ok ok. I did a thing. Thanks for the prompt baby… I was kinda missing my guys too 🖤 thanks for distracting me - I needed it today 😘

It’s short, it’s stupid, it’s not edited. 🥰

Swirls of powdery snow skirted across Main Street, the frigid temperature outside clashing with the heat from the ovens out back causing the tall windows of The Burnt Biscuit to fog over.

Cassie was filling the glass case with pastries and donuts for the early morning crowd that was due to start arriving in the next hour or so, snow or no snow, these guys never missed their morning coffee and breakfast on their way to work.

Smiling to herself, she reflected on how the years had changed her life. Four kids, a successful bakery and a new identity. It was never where she thought she’d be. It was never what she’d have dreamed she needed.

The love of her life could be heard in the kitchen, muttering about almost being out of chocolate chips.

“I put some on the order last week, they should be in tomorrow.” Cassie called absentmindedly rearranging the donuts.

“You’re the best, Princess.” He called.

A smile froze on her lips as the front door opened. It was too early for customers. Everyone in town knew they didn’t open the doors until five, even if they were left unlocked.

Two men stood just inside the door. Two very large men. Two men who looked oddly familiar but she couldn’t place it. One shook the snow from his curly hair as he looked around the shop, while the other dusted off his close shaven head, staring right at her.

“Sorry to intrude on you so early, ma’am.” The short haired man said, the drawl of his Texas accent floating over her like honey. “We’re looking for August.”

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

“Just a second.” Cassie said quietly as she turned and walked as normal as she could manage through the double swinging doors into the kitchen.

“Just like I imagined she’d look like from the way he talked about her.” Murmured the other, his British accent as smooth as the Texans.

Fear crept through her as her imagination ran wild.

Are they the bad guys? The ones that August had mentioned so many years ago… the ones he said could use me against him? I thought all this was over.

August stood completely still, his hand hovering over the oven handle, watching his wife as she stopped just inside the door and sank against the wall, staring at him like a deer in headlights.

“They’re here.” She breathed, tears brimming the corners of her eyes.

His heart quickened as he stalked to the cabinet he kept the muffin tins in. Flipping the side panel open, his hand wrapped around the gun he’d kept there for the last eight years. It wasn’t lost on him how it felt like the touch of an old, forgotten and unwanted lover. A shudder ran down his spine at how at home it felt in his hand despite his repulsion to the weapon. He’d put this life behind him, even though he’d never stopped being vigilant. His wife and children were everything he’d never let himself want, and now that he had them, he would burn the world he’d saved to keep them safe.

“Stay here.” He whispered to Cassie, pulling her to his chest and kissing her one last time, just in case.

Stepping through the door, gun raised and finger on the hair trigger, his breath left his body in one relieved sigh and couldn’t help but crack a sideways smile at the sight that greeted him.

“You could have called, you bastards.” He growled, the gun falling to his side as he lowered his hand.

The man with the closely shaven head turned to the curly haired man with a smirk.

“Gun drawn, ready to shoot us between the eyes. You owe me twenty bucks, Walter.” He laughed when August rolled his eyes.

“No, you said twenty bucks he shoots us. No shots fired, you owe me twenty dollars, Sy.” Walter murmured. “Will you please tell your wife that she can put down her gun?”

“You really did stumble on the perfect woman for you, didn’t you?” Sy laughed glancing over his shoulder.

August looked at him quizzically then followed Syverson’s gaze to the front window, where Cassie stood, a small pistol trained on his cousins.

“That’s my girl.” He chuckled, his sideways grin stretching the scars on his face taut.

“I guess we were all lucky in that way.” Walter mused as August gestured for Cassie to come inside.

Sheepishly, she poked her head in the door.

“Sorry.” She muttered.

“Come here, Sweetheart.” August pulled her to his side.

“Cassie, my cousins Walter Marshall and John Syverson.”

“Jack.” Corrected Syverson. “Or just Sy.”

“We used to call him junior when we were kids and it always made him cry and and punch us in the face. Or try.” Walter laughed.

“Only because my mom hated it and I didn’t want her to hear it.” He growled, looking like he was about to rip the curly hair off Walter’s head.

“Nothing wrong with being protective of your mother.” Cassie said quietly, looking up at August, thinking of what he had done for his own mother. She could help but note a different kind of smile on his face than she’d ever seen there before. This was a happy part of his past. He loved his cousins, it was clear.

Syverson nodded at her and winked.

“Why don’t I get you all something to eat and some coffee?” She offered, wanting to let her husband spend time with his cousins.

Once the three large men were settled into the small office in the back, coffees and an assortment of pastries and breads on the desk, August swung the door shut as more of the staff began arrived for the morning rush.

“Do I want to know why you didn’t mention this?” Walter gestured at the side of his face.

August sighed.

“Don’t pry, you big ninny.” Sy bumped his shoulder into Walters.

“We don’t keep secrets.” Walter said quietly.

“Oh, we don’t?” August snapped, his steel blue eyes meeting his cousins matching ones. “Care to explain why you didn’t call when you went off after your fathers killers? Just stole a fucking boat and sailed off to your death?”

Walter looked away, guilt eating at him. “There wasn’t time.”

“Hey. It’s over now.” Sy said sternly, effectively cutting through the tension.

“I could have helped.” August continued.

Walter shook his head.

“No, your wife was eight months pregnant with your, what? Third kid?”

Sy nodded, “And Izzy was laid up on bed rest with the twins. Same excuse he gave me.”

“You both had finally found your lives. Settled down. I wasn’t going to risk that for a fools mission. I didn’t have anything so it wasn’t really and issue.”

“And look how that turned out.” August’s sideways smile made Walter blush a little.

“Yeah.” He muttered sheepishly. “Though the honeymoon is certainly over. Irene threw a book at my head when I told her I was going to see my cousins.”

“Why?” August looked surprised. To hear his cousin talk about his new wife, she was sweetness personified. A veritable angel.

“She was mad I didn’t tell her I had cousins.” He shrugged.

“Understandable.” Sy chuckled. “Izzy was pissed too. She only knows about my dads side.”

“There’s enough of them to test anyone’s memory.” Walter laughed.

“Yeah. Like rabbits, runs on both sides apparently. How many are you at now? Five?” August glanced at Sy.

“Well… might be six. Izzy was throwing up yesterday morning. But that might have just been the dead mouse the cat dragged in.” He grinned.

“So are we going to skirt around the reason you two decided to darken my doorstep instead of just messaging me as normal?” August asked, sipping his coffee and watching as his cousins exchanged a dark look.

Walter sighed and gestured for Syverson to spill the beans.

“It’s about Gramps.”

August narrowed his eyes.

“He’s dead. Has been for thirty years. What kind of death trap suicide treasure hunt did he leave for us?”

“That’s the thing. He’s not dead.” Water tossed a folder onto the desk, a photo of their maternal grandfather, absent father of their mothers, in his prime sliding out of the dossier and settling in front of them. “And from what I understand the old bastard is in deep trouble.”

#Henry cavill #august Walker #Walter marshall #syverson #a short piece of shit ditzel #like a Drabble but #not #it distracted me #thanks baby 🖤🖤

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 40: Gifts

It had been just under a month since I had bonded with Uroboros. The undying Hadean-level heat finally died down about a week ago and Albert's touch stopped feeling like in inside walls of a walk-in freezer.

He had taken to the Angelis virus perfectly hardly any changes except his skin tone was just a tad paler and his hair was slightly brighter as well. He stood on the balcony of our apartment. With a book in his hand, he stood out looking at the horizon. 

I sighed, I looked over at the calendar noticing the date. It was the twenty-fifth, back before we had taken our separate routes we had spent this day in the past with William and his family. My after my mother passed Chris and Claire busied themselves with either volunteer work or staying on their military base around the holidays.

Albert walked in and saw my cloudy eyes. He places his book on the left-hand side table and walks to the closet.

"I have something for you dearheart." He said walking over to the wall away from the bathroom door. He removed his glove and pressed his wedding ring on the black pad attached to the wall. A secret panel was unlatched and opened up.

"These are some relics from our past I couldn't just let go of. I was planning on giving you this sooner but your body was so hot from binding with Uroboros that I decided it was a better idea to wait. There is also something I couldn't risk Sergei taking after you told me how much it meant to you." He said pulling out a small old fruit-patterned suitcase that we had bought for our honeymoon tour of the Mediterranean.

"Wow! Now that old thing brings back some memories!" I chuckle my eyes brightening a bit at the sight of that.

He set it on the bed and unzipped the old case. The zipper broke off from the track likely due to the lack of use from over the years. Rust is prevalent on the zipper. He pulls out a box wrapped in a plastic bag. He removed the broken suitcase from my sight more than likely in the kitchen. When he walked back in he smiled and removed his sunglasses setting them on top of his book.

"Go ahead open up the package, my lotus." He said sitting next to me on the bed.

With a smile and a sigh, I ripped open the vacuum-sealed bag. Upon pulling out the box I noticed it had a familiar scent to it. It reminded me of our bedroom back in Raccoon City.

I opened the top and nearly cried when I pulled it away. It was our old sky blue and gold cotton comforter. William and Anette had bought it for us for our wedding. It was in just as good shape as the last day Albert and I had slept under it. I stuck my hands into the soft slightly scratchy only to find an even more scratchy material.

"What's this?" I ask slowly pulling out a neatly folded light yellow knitted square. At the moment I saw it, my heart nearly stopped. Yet another item I had thought Sergei destroyed. It was the baby blanket my great-aunt on my mother's side had knitted for me as a baby. I kept it with me even when I went to the Umbrella management training facility. Anette found the fact I kept a hold of it weird but Wesk never did.

"I still remember the day you told me about it, dearheart." He said removing the box and bag from the bed while pulling me and the blankets up to his chest, "The day that one girl tripped you down the stairs and you ended up breaking Marcus's favorite vase. He gave you the worst verbal lashing anyone there had seen. We were just friends at the time but I knew I had to do something."

Tears dripped down my eyes, "Yeah, I heard you told Marcus what had happened.  While I was let go from being sent on dish duty I still remember that bitch being there until she snuck into the leech lab." I said with a sigh bringing up the small knitted blanket to my face.

"I meant when I came to your dorm that night. You were sobbing and holding that blanket up to your lovely face much like you are doing right now. Do you remember what I said to you when you told me it was your baby blanket?" He asked stroking my hair and placing it behind my ear.

I had to think for a moment but slowly the memory haze cleared away and that moment became recognizable again, "How could I not? We shared our first kiss just after you had told me. You said 'Tabitha, it is okay to hold on to the past. We need the past to make a stronger better future. I don't think having a cherished item holds you back but rather it helps move you forward.'"

I looked up at Albert to see a nostalgic smile gracing his lips, "And that is when you planted a small kiss on my lips. It stunned me that you would be so bold as you were very much sheltered by your family."

"Yeah well, I have you still even after all the time apart, we fit together like gears in a clock," I whispered kissing the shell of his ear.

"Given the date, I do have something else for you my precious lotus," Albert said but I pressed my right index finger to his lips.

"And I have something for you as well my treasure but this is not the place. If you would please follow me." I said as my comms choker vibrated.

"Pheonix here," I answered.

"What is taking you so long? I had everything set up like thirty minutes ago and you know I don't like waiting," Gale said in a grumpy voice.

"I was just heading down with him now," I answered clicking off my comm, "Grab what you got me, and let's go."

Albert just shook his head and walked over to the secret panel closet. He grabbed a black large attache case that had two fairly durable locks on it. I smile walking over to my closet. I put on a flowy blue and white dress that covers my feet along with white flats.  I pulled out a snowflake necklace that I had stashed in my pack when I first got captured by Albert.

"Who's necklace is that my lotus?" He asked looking at me in the mirror.

"It was Alistar's. I sent her family this pendant in ninety- two when I was on the run from Umbrella with our second child. She was wearing it the day she died." I said hugging Wesk as he held the white sapphire snowflake in his hand.

"She would have reminded you of a snow-white lily, she was so pure and innocent. Even stained in blood she was as innocent as a turtle dove." I whisper as I head towards our private elevator.

"Wasn't that the name you had chosen for her if you had kept her?" He asked as he grabbed his trench coat from the coat rack in our kitchen.

I smiled and gently brushed the falling strands of hair out of his face, "I'm surprised you remember that."

"Of course, I would dearheart. She was our first after all." He called the elevator and we got on soon after. Albert brushed his hand against my own. He wasn't wearing his gloves for once. His face while stoic radiated an air of serene peace.

"Something caught your eye dearheart?" He smirked turning towards me.

I smiled, "Just you, my god."

He laughed as he pulled me close and kissed my neck, "You are so precious to me, my lotus. I never wish to lose you."

"Merry Christmas Albert," I whispered.

"Merry Christmas Tabitha." He said into my neck.

The elevator door opened and Jill was waiting for us. She was wearing a red sweater with a green overcoat and white leggings. She greeted us with a smile on her face. She wasn't acting I noticed.

"Come on you two. We were waiting for you." She giggled and took the weapon case from Wesker. She started to walk towards the library as Albert had a confused look on his face.

"We? Who did you gather? Excella is not here and most of the staff are B.O.Ws." Albert asked.

"Just some people that matter to us, well more me but you need to expand your horizons my treasure. Some social interaction would be good for you." I said as we arrived at the massive library.

Jill scanned my keycard and the sliding steel door opened revealing a small festive gathering. Gale sitting on a leather sofa next to an ornately decorated Christmas tree. Arjuna standing at the gift table. Steve and Nighthawk are drinking cider next to the fireplace. Irving was drunk and talking to a column.

Jill dropped the black attache case off at the table and then sat down next to Gale, kissing him on the cheek. A light blush grew on his face as he sipped at his vodka cranberry. Jill just chuckled taking a glass of French champagne.

I smiled up at Albert who looked stunned at the small gathering. He shook his head slightly and then looked down at me with the smallest smile I'd seen from him. Clearly trying to hide some emotion.

"However did you plan this without my knowledge dearheart? I'm awake nearly twenty-four-seven save for the times I rest next to you for a few hours. Even then you are normally by my side so how?" He purred in my ear.

"Simple, I did it the same way I'm planning our vow renewal. Alistar programmed White Queen to manage Pheonix Corps. in my absence. That included charity balls and galas as well as small parties for the facility. To do it without you noticing all I had to do was keep an eye on you, my love, and turn up the charm a bit.

Albert chuckled, "You would be an amazing field operative if I were to ever need one but I will tell you this I had planned on at least bringing out Archer for the holidays."

I burst out laughing happily, "That explains why he said that this co aligns with his plans. But at minimum, I'm twice the agent than Ms. Wong is."

"Indeed you are." He said pulling me close.

Albert and I kissed. He walked over to the black leather armchair and grabbed a bottle of Johnnie's blue label. He poured himself a glass on the rocks and relaxed on the chair.

Arjuna walked up and hugged me. He was in his Phoenix Corps. management attire. I was happy he was able to come normally I had the lodge running over Christmas but this year I wanted to give my employees time with their families.

"It's good to see you, Tabitha" Arjuna said with a smile his hair back to being a solid black.

"And it is great to see you, my dear. How are things at home?" I asked floofing his silky hair.

"Things are running smoothly. Billy has taken up more of a managerial role and is the one in charge while I am away. I also brought a batch of viral stabilizing pills and activators just in case you ran out of stock." He smiled and walked toward the grand piano in the center of the room.

I watched as Albert stood up as well and joined him.

"Do you know how to play Arjuna?" Albert asked as he sat down on the bench, his glass of high-quality scotch in hand.

"Yes, it just has been a while, sir," Arjuna said with a slight bow.

"No need for such formality with me, your mother is my wife, and while we haven't bonded in the little time we have had. I do care for you." Wesker said motioning for him to sit next to him.

"Thank you, but still I will address you as sir till I feel comfortable around you," Arjuna said sitting next to him.

"Understandable, now do you know how to play any Christmas music?" Albert asked and Arjuna reluctantly shook his head no.

"I only know a partial of Carol of the Bells. The only song I really know is Moonlight Sonata I learned it for Tabitha."  Juna said earning a chuckle from Wesker.

"Her favorite classical piece. Then take the lead," Wesker said taking a sip of his scotch.

Arjuna started to play and then Albert followed suit. The music of the grand piano danced through the air. The sound sends shivers down my spine. Two of my favorite men playing one of my favorite classical pieces. I couldn't help but smile not letting the negative thoughts of Umbrella ruin this lovely moment.

Jill and Gale kind of cringed at the memories this song brought up. Yet the memories of the mansion incident seemed so far away to me.

"Even after everything that's happened, I can't help but feel nostalgic when I hear this song." I sigh walking up behind my two lovely men.

When they finished playing I pulled them into a warm embrace, "You both were amazing."

"Thanks, ma I enjoyed myself." Arjuna smiled standing up from the piano.

"Tabitha dearheart, I do believe people are ready to exchange gifts," Albert said taking a sip of his scotch. I knew this was difficult for him. He had so many unresolved traumas from the holidays. I was working through them the last few years before the mansion incident. Namely in S.T.A.R.S. but those are memories for another time.

"I'll help pass out the presents then," I said as Jill and Steve walked up to help me.

"Let me do the heavy lifting! Steve said quickly taking the heavy boxes.

"Whoa! OK! Seesh! CALM down, Steve." Me and Jill laughed as I grabbed Albert's presents from the table where they were stashed.

The sorting went swiftly and easily. Not to my surprise Jill and I had the most gifts. She had about two more than me, I would say.

"Alrighty, ladies first," Irving laughed and I rolled my eyes smiling as Jill opened a blue and silver box.

"I wonder who this is from... T." She jeered with a smirk.

I simply stuck out my tongue and Albert rolled his eyes sipping his drink. I doubted he'd get drunk but it was nice for there to be similarities to the past.

Jill smiled as she pulled out a lockpick set that had blue grips and a star on the end of the handle.

"These are nice T. Thank you." Jill smiled setting the case down.

"Now it's your turn boss lady," Gale said his hair slicked back, "the black and red box is from me open it."

"Alright, thanks, Gale." I smiled opening the box, and a gentle smile graced my lips, "These are nice, Gale. Are they corrective?"

"Same prescription and same color just stronger and less likely to fall off your face when in combat," Gale said kissing Jill on the cheek.

I pulled out the black pair of shades with purple lenses. There was an etching of a silver phoenix on the arms. I slide them on and the bright lights dim. The subtle headache that was growing quickly faded.

Quickly we went through the gifts. There was a wide variety of objects were given. From Wesker receiving a watch from Nighthawk and Arjuna. Arjuna finally told us that they were together and had just celebrated their six-month anniversary. I felt proud they had the confidence to tell us.

Irving got a couple of nice dress shirts and a decent-sized leather briefcase. Steve was hard to shop for but was still a kid so I got him a new deck of cards and a guitar similar to Chris's old acoustic one. Gale and Jill exchanged the most gifts with each other. They were mostly small bits and bobs but they had one gift each that they had put work into. Jill got Gale a necklace that matched hers.

"Something is written on it," Gale asked looking at the back of the pendant, "My sniper."

"Something to remind you of me when we are apart," Jill said smiling.

"We had the same idea then, " Gale said as Jill opened her black and red box.

Jill pulled out a leather bracelet that had a gold plate on the front with a lock pick etched into it, "I'm giving you the key to my heart Jill, like I should have when we were in S.T.A.R.S."  Gale smiled.

They hugged and gently kissed each other. When they did, I snuggled into Wesker's chest on the leather couch. I handed Albert a manilla envelope. He looked confused as he sat up and opened it. He pulled out pictures of a young man who was sixteen at this time. He had red-brown hair similar to Claire's and Albert's stormy blue eyes.

"I don't understand dearheart. Who is this young man?" Albert asked stroking my hair gently.

"One of my old contacts, the man who trained me. Hunk was his codename. I had him do some searching as a favor. The name of the lady who I left our son with was Reina Mueller. She was a dear friend of mine. That young man is her only child, the one she adopted in ninety-two. That young man is currently being trained as a Merc. He is being trained by the Grim Reaper himself. That young man's name is Jake Mueller." I said taking a glass of sparkling pear cider from a nearby table, "That's our son, Albert. I know we have that mission in Europe coming up. After we had completed it, I found some lodging. I booked it with Pheonix Corps. Resources and we are attending his mother's funeral. She died of a rare form of lymphoma. We are going to meet Jake."

"You have been quite busy dear lotus. I'm afraid my gift pales in comparison." Albert said unlocking the weapon case in front of me.

"I doubt that my love.  You know I'd cherish anything you'd give me. " I kiss Albert's cheek in a gentle manner

"I know dearheart. I just like making you say that." Albert smirked pulling out a fifty-cal-looking rifle decorated in black snake scale. The scope could switch between thermal, night vision, and regular sights, "I call this rifle scorpion. It can be charged by your electrical prowess. It is semi-automatic and fully modded for maximum damage. It's also lightweight and compact with minimum recoil. It's an anti-B.O.W. gun."

"I love it Wesk. I was always a lock-on kind of gal, not a spread-spray-and-pray kind." I joked around but it was a seriously nice sniper rifle, "Looks like I may be retiring my bow here soon."

"Alright I do believe that is all the presents let's start to pack it in and..." Arjuna started to say when Steve walked up and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Not quite arjuna I still have one gift left and it's for Wesker and Tabitha." He smiled.

"Well, what is it, Steve?" I asked curiously very much confused.

There were no more boxes or envelopes.  So what gift did he have for us? I glanced up at Albert. He wore his usual stoic expression but there was curiosity in his eyes.

Steve pulled out his laptop and went into the medical records portion of the U.M.F.014. White Queen appeared on his screen and smiled.

"Greetings Dr. Burnside, would you like to continue where we were last viewing?" She asked.

"Yes, I would White Queen and blow the image to full-screen," Steve said handing me and Albert the laptop as an image of an ultrasound was pulled up.

"I ran your blood work when you came in to see if you and Uroboros were properly bonded. while that came out with resounding positivity another thing came up. By the time I returned to my office, you were asleep pretty heavily on the medical bed. So I had to check the results and this is what I found." Steve said as tears started to well up in my eyes.

There were three small shapes hugging the walls of my womb. How far along was I? Albert held me close I felt his smile in my hair. We were pregnant and we were going to have triplets. This explained the bouts of nausea I had been having and the extreme exhaustion.

"From my knowledge based on the blood tests and the ultrasound, you are about six to seven weeks along. It seems you have succeeded in your side project." Steve smiled closing the laptop.

"Well, I'll be damned! Congratulations you two. Looks like I get to be a cool uncle after all." Gale laughed kissing Jill.

I started laughing as well pressing my cheek into Albert's chest. Parents, we would be parents.  Tears streamed down my face.

"Tabitha my dear lotus, this is the best Christmas I have had, and something tells me the next ones will just be even better," Albert said kissing me.

"Merry Christmas everyone!" I shouted out and smiled brightly.

This has been one hell of a year.

Hey everyone slifarianhawk here and Merry Christmas to all. Spend time with your loved ones and enjoy them. I'll be on a brief holiday till the new year so I can spend some much-needed time with my partners (I'm in a trouple ^^) and I love all of ya'll. My name is Silfarianhawk and I'm not so far away.

#albert wesker #resident evil #wesker #wesker x reader #wesker x oc #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x oc #re wesker #resident evil wesker

[fanfoolishness]

Guide (Jedi: Survivor)

Cal struggles with painful flashbacks from the last time he rode in an escape pod, and tries to find a way out, back through his memories. Cal x PTSD, Order 66 flashbacks, Jedi: Survivor spoilers, angst, coping. Thank you to @stardustandash for the encouragement! And thanks to this scene for the subtle reminder that Cal's PTSD continues to affect him. ~1100 words.

-

Cal stared at the bay of escape pods, the area still pristine despite the fact the Lucrehulk’s wreck rested in the dankest swamp he’d ever encountered.  Rows of panels in sterile white and gray loomed ahead of him.  He took a deep breath.

Republic or Separatist, there were some ways that all Clone Wars ships looked the same.

“Safest way outta here,” said Bode, flashing a grin.  

Cal looked away.  “You sure about that?” His chest tightened, heart rate climbing steadily.  He tried to ignore the feeling.  You’re fine.  It’s fine.

“No,” Bode shrugged, looking calm and unflappable as ever.  But why shouldn’t he be?  The pods should clear them of the wreckage, get them back to town sooner and safer than trying to get Zee through the swamplands.  It was a good idea.  

So why did Cal feel like he was getting into a coffin?

“Okay then,” Cal said stiffly.  He paced back and forth in front of the pod door. It was a narrow space, but he rounded it three times before the door slid open.

Zee’s head swiveled back and forth between him and Bode.  “You seem nervous,” she said brightly, then turned to Bode. “I’m going with him.”

Damn it, Zee.

“Hop aboard, Zee,” Bode said, ushering her safely into the pod.  He gave Cal a funny look that broke into a smile.  “See you at the outpost.”

Cal nodded, swallowing.  “Yup, I’m coming.”

The open door yawned before him.  He climbed inside, smelling duraplast, transparisteel, stale mechanical air.   For a moment, he thought he caught a whiff of blaster scorch, but the pod was unblemished.  It had clearly never seen battle.  Not like --

He sank down onto the seat, knowing he had only a moment before launch.  BD-1 clambered up to the seat beside him, peering up at him in concern.  Funny.  Bode hadn’t seemed to notice he was off at all, but both the droids knew.  

Not that there was anything to know.  It was just old baggage, wasn’t it?  Nothing to be afraid of, or at least, that was what he kept trying to tell himself.

Cal pulled the restraints over his lap and buckled them, pressing back stiffly against the seat.  “I hate these things,” he admitted to BD.  He waited, tense.

The pod jerked heavily in its launch, and Cal’s fingers gripped the seat, tightening until they shook.  He breathed faster, sharp shallow breaths.  This is different.  This is Koboh.  We’re heading back to the outpost.  Nobody’s after us -- we’re safe -- I’m safe --

But the pod lurched and rumbled.  “I knew it,” he muttered, cold dread seeping into him.  The turbulence hurled him forward.  He was thrown back hard into his seat, slamming against the wall, head cracking against the hard surface.  He flung his arms up over his face to brace himself, screwing his eyes shut -- and he was thirteen again.  

It was too much.  Master Tapal’s powerful lightsaber, too big and heavy for Cal’s small hands.  Cal’s cheek and neck, throbbing from a blaster bolt; his lungs burning for air after the running, after the smoke.  His heart, beating frantic and painful in his chest -- the disbelief, the confusion, the fear --

I’m safe --

Master Tapal’s eyes clouded, forever opened -- his strong, brave, wise face slack in death -- and Cal sobbing like he had never wept before, the cries tearing themselves out of his chest and mouth with a violence that scared him --

I’m -- I’m --

The escape pod jolting and sputtering around them, slamming Cal into his master’s body -- he scrabbled for the Force, tried to hold onto it, to hold onto his master -- but the connection hurt like it never had before, a wound that filled him up, that threatened to tear him apart --

No --

And then, lost in the pain, he could hear her.  Cere’s voice, steady and calm, a different memory opening up and washing out the terror of that last, awful day.  

Cere, sitting on the bunk across from him in the Mantis, her face filled with compassion after waking him from a nightmare --

Cere reaching out, taking his trembling hands in hers, and the Force a shimmering bridge between them --

Cere, patient and gentle -- “Breathe, Cal.  Reach out, and find the Force.  Trust in it to guide you through.”

He breathed.  In, and out.  In.  And out.  Cere’s encouragement echoed in his head.

A memory is only that.  You are stronger than memory, Cal.  Let the Force guide you back to Now.  I know you can do this.

He reached for the Force, desperately and clumsily at first, but then the connection strengthened, smoothed, became as natural as breathing.  It was here, here in this escape pod fired from the Lucrehulk; it surrounded the pod and BD-1, reflected ripples and waves from the viscid bog; he sensed people down below, creatures stirring in the muck, plants clinging to the jutting rock, earthen spires and wafting winds.  It was here, in him, in the blood carried through his veins, nerves innervating muscle and flesh, bones keeping him braced in his seat, heart and mind filled with a fear that was slowly, slowly fading.  

Trust only in the Force.

Cal shakily lowered his arms, still working at keeping his breathing under control.  He looked around, half-dazed.  The pod shuddered to a stop around him, and BD beeped and burbled at him in concern.  

Cal blinked.  I’m here.  I’m safe.

The Force is with me.

He unbuckled his restraints, hands wavering only a little on the buckle.  He got to his feet unsteadily, and BD leaped to his shoulder, settling into his familiar spot.  Cal took a few steps, feeling slightly better with each one.  He slammed the hatch controls and the door opened.  

The familiar sight of the misty bog greeted him, and Cal inhaled, only grimacing slightly at its foul, fetid stench.  Right now, he’d take any smell over the stale air in the pod.

“Remind me to never do that again,” Cal said to BD, taking another deep breath.  

He brushed the hair out of his eyes and fixed his attention on a path out of the muck.  A few leaps here, a grapple there, a brief wade through the bog…  He had this.  At least here he’d have more control of his journey, propelled by the Force and by his own body.  A much better option.

He spared one last glance at the escape pod.  Thanks for getting me out of my head, Cere.  Maybe he’d tell her, next time he saw her on Jedha, how she’d helped him.  How her teachings had always helped him.  The gratitude settled into his chest, a far more welcome feeling than the fear that had crippled him a few moments earlier.

“You ready for a ride, Beedee?  Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Brrroop,” BD trilled, excited.  The little guy did love Cal’s tricks; he wondered if that daredevil nature was something that had always been in his programming, or if it was something BD had picked up from his time with Cal.  Cal smiled a little at the thought.  It was a good one.

Yeah.  He was okay.  

Cal flung himself forward into the air, and the Force was waiting for him.

#cal kestis #cal x ptsd #cere junda #jedi: survivor spoilers #jedi: survivor #jedi survivor spoilers #jedi survivor #my jedi fic #jedi: survivor fanfiction

[demonsanddemogorgons]

Sunny in Philadelphia - A Joseph Quinn Story (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2 - The Wait

The two of you headed up to the show floor to have a look around, but you were pretty distracted by the thought of what was hiding in your pocket.

"We've walked past like 5 tables that had Stranger Things stuff and you haven't even noticed. Girl, just text him," Rachel said, stopping you in the walkway.

"And look desperate? No way."

"He's Joseph fucking Quinn. And he pursued you. What the hell are you waiting for?"

"Well, if it's a prank I don't know if I want to know. I'm afraid."

"You're being ridiculous, Mack. It's NOT a prank. You saw the lady from the photo booth who handed it to you. She was on official business for sure," she replied with a giggle at her own joke.

"Well, you know he's busy as hell today. He has to fit 3 days' worth of people in because he couldn't be here the whole weekend. Who knows if he will even respond today," you justified, still scared of the outcome.

"Ok, so? He can text you back tomorrow if he's busy today. Besides, he's a man. He already showed interest in you. I bet he's watching his phone like a hawk every chance he gets to look at it. He WILL text back, I know it. DO IT."

You sighed, knowing she wasn't going to drop it at this point. You walked over to a side wall of the show room that was less crowded and pulled out the note and your phone. You glanced around to make sure no one was looking and began adding the number to your contacts. Just to be safe and preserve his anonymity from anyone who may catch a glimpse at your phone screen, you put it under J with a bat and guitar emoji. You shoved the note back in your pocket and opened your messages app. A small sigh snuck its way out of your lungs, your body's attempt to relieve some of your anxiety. Here it goes.

Hey, Joe. It's the girl in the white dress.

Ugh, that sounded stupid. Backspace. After thinking and typing and backspacing and thinking and typing and backspacing, you eventually settled on a text, and tried to make yourself seem confident. After all, he went to the effort to have someone track you down.

Hey, it's the "absolutely beautiful" blonde with black glasses and white dress. You're not so bad yourself.

You smiled to yourself as you hit send. Rachel squealed at your sudden demonstration of confidence and put her hands on your shoulders.

"And now we wait. Let's go grab some lunch before the Q&A panel," she said, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the door. Anyone who didn't know you may have thought the two of you were a lesbian couple, but you both liked it that way. Kept people on their toes.

You and Rachel left the convention center and walked a block up the street to the Hard Rock Café. You ordered and waited for the food to come. Seconds felt like hours and you found yourself playing with your own fingers in anxiousness.

"Hey, it's been like a half an hour. Give it some time," she tried to encourage you.

"I know. It's just now I'm going to be worried waiting for it all day, or possibly longer," you replied as the waitress came to the table with your food. You tried to distract yourself with your salad and the loud music in the restaurant but it didn't really work. Every time your phone would vibrate you would jump and grab it only to see a Facebook notification or a message from your other friend, who sent you a collection of Tik Tok videos every day. You wanted so badly to tell her to lay off for the day so you won't have a stroke, but you knew you couldn't explain. Not yet anyway.

"Like you said, he's really busy today. It will happen."

You were so thankful in that moment that she was here with you instead of you coming to the convention alone. You would be an absolute mess right now if you were by yourself. You finished your food, paid, and headed back to the convention center. You got in line for the panel and it looked like people had already been waiting there for hours to get a good seat. You didn't really care where you sat, you were just glad to be there. You never really traveled far from home other than for family vacations. You lived 4 hours from Philly, and the furthest you had ever traveled by yourself was the 2-hour drive to Pittsburgh. This type of thing wasn't something you did often so you were glad to get what you could.

The doors to the panel hall opened and people flooded inside. When you finally got a seat, it was way off to the left away from the stage, but not everyone got seats so you considered yourself fortunate. After everyone was seated, the announcer came out and introduced Joseph Quinn and Grace Van Dien. The two of them walked on stage and sat on the couch, Joe on the right and Grace on the left. The questions started from the announcer and you listened intently, admiring Joe from afar. The questions and answers started drowning out, and all of your focus was on Joe, just looking at him – his shaggy curly hair he was growing out to film the new Gladiator movie, his black t-shirt and leather jacket, his brown eyes that you could still manage to see from that far away. JEEZUMS. This man wanted you? YOU? You once again felt small all of a sudden and unconfident.

There's no way. Me? Out of all these people here? Yeah right. You thought to yourself, psyching yourself out again that it could have possibly been a prank. It was too good to be true. But that's when something happened. You were staring at Joe, your expression a bit depressed as these questioning thoughts were running through your head, when he caught a glimpse at you through the crowd. At first you weren't sure he as looking at you or someone else, but his eyes locked with yours for what felt like minutes but was more like seconds. You continued to look at him, still in disbelief that he was in fact looking at you. You were proven wrong when he let a small smirk show on his lips and winked. Just then, you KNEW he was looking at you, from all the way across the room. HOW?! How did he find you in this huge crowd? You blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling back and biting your bottom lip a little. You saw his smile grow at the sight.

A question from the announcer pulled his attention away from you, and you exhaled, realizing that you weren't breathing that whole time. You turned to face Rachel who was already looking at you with wide eyes and a smile. You didn't even have to ask. You knew she had seen that whole silent interaction.

"Yeah, he's DEFINITELY going to text you," she whispered in your ear, earning a smile and rosy cheeks from you. The rest of the panel went by in a blur. You were too busy thinking about what just happened to pay much attention. The announcer finished up and dismissed Joe and Grace. As Joe was walking off stage, you saw him pulling his phone out of his pocket just before he disappeared behind the curtain.

"Oh my God, he's checking his phone!" you whisper-shouted to Rachel. She smirked in response.

"Told you."

Story Master List

#joseph quinn #Joe Quinn #joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn rpf #fanfic #fan fiction #eddie munson #stranger things #real person fiction #fluff #convention #writing

[cherrygorilla]

The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 2)

Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne - 4:53

Yes, it is a ridiculous amount of time since I last posted anything to do with this (or anything at all really), but I've been dying to write for this story again, so I thought it would be a good way to help me get my groove back. Plus, I wanted to wait until Camp Wanamaker was done before I went back to working on Acting School Drop Out (because I feel like I might be able to use some stuff that's been mentioned in the next part lol). So, after months and months of uni stress that's kept me away from my google doc, here's the next installment of the story that's kept me going through it all.

Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!

Heavy eyelids dropped over a pair of umber eyes trying, and failing, to focus on the computer screen in front of them. Whilst the radio often felt like Butchy's only co-worker, today it just seemed to be functioning as a lullaby machine - and the smooth, fade-out ending of Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman' just proved the point further. One second he was staring blankly at a page of pixelated text on a fuzzy screen, and then the next thing he knew he was drooling into the palm of his hand and almost falling off his chair at the sound of a car racing past his window. 

It's not even that he was tired - it was barely even 11am for Christ's sake - he was just so bored his brain was shutting down from lack of stimulation. And considering the latest turn of events, his body wasn't far behind. The roaring engine disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the incessant ticking of the plastic wall clock in its place. It didn't matter what kind of car it was, or where the hell it was going; all Butchy knew was that he wanted to be in it. Hopefully travelling far, far away from this crappy, dead-end town, and this shoe box of an office, that was more dust than desk, and smelled like a wet rat. 

Begrudgingly, he gathered himself together and finished typing out the latest file he'd been working on - something about trespassing in the old steel mill, he didn't care enough to look into the details. Tipping his head back, he rubbed his palms across his eyes, trying to press as hard as he could to draw some sort of alertness to the forefront of his mind. If anything, it just made him more tired.

One glance across his desk let his gaze settle on the dorky Star Wars mug Royce and Bentley had gifted him on his last birthday, and for the first time since he'd slumped in the splitting leather swivel-chair that morning, a ghost of a smile graced his features. He took a swig and drained the mug of the last of its contents: bitter, room-temperature coffee. Wincing at the taste, he picked up the next file to work on, but swiftly dropped it in favour of refilling his mug. After all, the walk to the coffee pot in the main office was the only change of scenery he got all day. Sometimes he watered the dying yucca plant beside him with the rancid liquid just so that he had an excuse to get away from his desk.

The tapping of keyboards and mumblings of the same, tedious phone calls he overheard every day met Butchy's ears as he lumbered down the hall and pushed open the office door. Lurking behind the frosted panel, caked in as much dust as the rest of the building, was the rag-tag reception team, consisting of three women Butchy had absolutely no intention of even looking at, let alone speaking to. He'd given up trying to make conversation with his co-workers pretty quickly after every meagre attempt on his end had been ignored. Most shifts passed without him uttering a single word. However, Lela ditching his ride that morning must have thrown him off more than he realised, because this shift was about to become an anomaly. 

"So I said to him: If you know so much about the damn sausages, why don't you cook 'em yourself?" 

"I bet he knows a lot about one kind of sausage."

"Oh Jen, pull your mind out of the gutter, you sound like a teenager."

"She practically still is one."

"I'm right though, aren't I?"

A strained sigh slipped past Butchy's lips before he could stop it. The nasal drones from the women behind him were enough to make his eye twitch at the best of times, but the added scraping of Jennifer's nail file made it inevitable. Before he could short-circuit altogether though, one of the adjoining doors to the main office was pushed open, and the conversation unfolding behind it immediately caught his attention. 

Heaving a sigh that put the young trainee's to shame, the fourth, and final receptionist, led the charge into the room - two officers hot on her heels. "Well, you'll just have to go alone then, won't you, gentlemen?" 

"We can't just 'go alone', the chief's the only one that goes on solo investigations. What if it's dangerous? What if we need back-up?"

"And what, pray tell, Officer Reynolds, is so 'dangerous' about a broken store window?"

"Well from the sounds of things it's a pretty clear-cut robbery. What if the culprit's still on the scene? What if he's armed?"

"Why are you assumin' it's a 'he'?" Jennifer piped up with a smirk, punctuating her question by blowing the acrylic dust from the tip of her nail. 

As expected, neither officer batted an eyelid at her interruption. 

"We got the call last night. You've got a higher chance of him sticking the damn window back together."

"But what if it's like that time when Old Man McRoberts'-"

"Enough, boys. I don't want to hear it," she finally snapped, slamming the stack of paperwork down on her desk so hard it even made her glasses chain quiver. Turning to the pair with her hands planted firmly on her hips, she continued. "Callahan, you're on patrol with Officer Powell; Reynolds, you're investigating that store window. Alone."

"But Fran, that never-"

"No, I don't want to hear another word. You're going solo, Reynolds, and that's that." 

"...Uh, I could go with you."

The whole office fell silent. Even Jennifer's nail file seemed to pause for thought. But all too soon, six pairs of eyes fell on Butchy, whose grip on his mug instinctively tightened under their bemused glares. He couldn't exactly blame them; even he couldn't believe that he'd dared to speak - let alone suggest such a thing. But then again, this was a perfect opportunity - perhaps the only opportunity he'd get (at least for the foreseeable future) to prove himself a worthy member of the team. Being stuck behind a computer screen all day was getting him nowhere - in fact, he was pretty sure he had even less respect now than when he'd first set foot through the door over a month ago. But working on a case, a real case, meant he could put all the skills he'd learnt in his training to the test - show everyone that potential he'd promised in his interview. This could be the making of Officer Bandoni. This could be his ticket out of that godawful, stuffy office. This could be-

"Oh my god, look at his face; he's serious."

God, he hated Jennifer. But he hated that cackling laugh of hers even more. 

"Jennifer," Linda, the crotchety receptionist to her left, scolded. If Butchy hadn't known better, with her brusque, hushed tone and sharp glare from over the top of her tortoise shell glasses, he'd have thought the woman was her mother. 

"Yeah right," Officer Callahan snorted. But a pause, followed by a brief glance in the new recruit's direction soon had his confidence faltering. "I- Oh…" 

"Hey, cut him some slack, Jen; the kid's still learning the ropes," Officer Reynolds piped up, ignoring Officer Callahan's attempts to hide his smirk by smoothing out his moustache, and instead sending the smarmy receptionist a blasé, yet stern frown. "Of course he wasn't being serious."

"Actually, I was," Butchy corrected. He set his mug down and stood his ground opposite the two officers, gently nudging his chin up and puffing out his chest in an attempt to outwardly show some of the confidence he was so desperately trying to scrounge together. At least that would help to mask the stubborn rage bubbling away in the pit of his stomach. The staff's dismissiveness was frustrating enough on its own, but being reduced to a 'kid' was downright infuriating. 'Kids' did not single-handedly raise their little sister. 'Kids' did not give up their weekends to go and work in a shitty garage for two bucks an hour all throughout high school just so they could have food on the table. 'Kids' did not shoulder the responsibility of four adults after stepping up to parent, not only his own sister, but the three boys next door too. Butchy hadn't felt like a 'kid' in years. He had always been the oldest - the most mature, the most dependable, the most capable… So for these six adults, who had barely given him the time of day in the month he'd been working with them, to stand there and tell him he was nothing more than a 'kid'...it was insulting. And he was determined to prove them wrong. "If you need another officer for back-up, and no one else is free, then why can't I go with you?" 

"Well, for one, you're not an officer-"

All Reynolds had to do was hold up a hand for Callahan to snuff out his snickers. "Because you haven't finished your training yet, son," he plainly explained. At least his withering look was softened by a bored tone. 

"But I've aced every part of the course I've completed so far," Butchy argued. "And this could be a chance for me to learn on the job, out in the field-"

"Son, let it go."

"You said, yourself, that I've got potential. Why can't I just show you-?"

"Look, kid, you're not ready - you won't be for a long time. I admire the optimism but we've gotta look at the facts here. And truth is: the dirt on Callahan's shoe's got more experience walkin' 'round a crime scene than you do. I know you want to get out of the office and get a taste of the action, but I can't work the case and babysit you at the same time. It's just not realistic."

'Babysit'? Butchy could feel the word in the palm of his hand as he clenched his fingers into a fist around it, crushing it, along with all its juvenile connotations. "I'm not a 'kid', I'm eighteen years old," he insisted, choosing his words and tone very carefully as he fought not to lose his cool. 

"Yeah, and I'm not a chainsmoker neither," Jennifer sniggered, appearing to have swapped her nail file for a cigarette during the confrontation. She took a long drag as her, deep, carob eyes latched onto his, lashes sprawling across a rough sea of streaky kohl, before letting the smoke leak out through her crimson-painted smirk. 

Butchy didn't know what was more nauseating: her attitude or the stench of tobacco hanging in the air. 

Officer Reynolds let out an exasperated sigh that soon stole back the trainee's glare though. "That's all well and good, but it's not gonna change my mind. You need more experience before you go out in the field, Bandoni," he explained, with an expression that told Butchy he was well-weary of the conversation now. "You can't learn to run before you learn to walk. It's just not realistic - if anything, it's naïve."

"But how am I supposed to get more experience when I'm stuck behind a desk all day?" 

Butchy's question was shot down though as the pair of officers crossed the room to the office's main door, back to their usual routine of barely acknowledging his existence. "If I'm not back by two for your CPR training, Officer Powell will handle it, okay?" Reynolds said as he plucked his hat from the coat stand in the corner and secured it atop his head of thinning, taupe hair. Knowing the new recruit wouldn't be satisfied with any answer he could give him, he'd just decided to brush the question aside altogether. 

And knowing that defiance, and further provoking, would get him nowhere, Butchy finally relaxed his hand, and gave a stiff nod. He silently watched the officers announce their departure to the room and felt his shoulders slump in defeat, his chest aching with betrayal. Officer Reynolds was supposed to be his mentor, the one who would take him under his wing as he learned the ropes - and yet he'd kicked him to the curb and spat in his face the one time he'd tried to do the right thing. At least that's how it felt to him anyway. 

"Bye boys," Jennifer trilled with a flirty giggle as the office door closed behind them. Tapping the ash from the end of her cigarette, she turned her vampish smirk to Butchy. "Nice little show there, Bandoni. And there I was thinking today was gonna be boring." 

Butchy's frown deepened as her scornful laughter battered his ears. The thick-headed she-devil wasn't worth his breath though - even the sickened huff that escaped his throat felt like a waste. His fingers once again closed, although this time they at least found the warm ceramic of his mug beneath them. Letting the heat seep into his skin, he took a deep breath in through his nose and tried to focus on anything else other than the anger boiling in his chest. At least the Star Wars mug, and the memory of receiving it, gave him something to anchor himself to: a way to discharge all the bitter resentment that had been steadily building for weeks, but had finally come to an ugly head. One more snarky comment from Danielle and he'd have hurled the coffee at her sloppy up-do, he knew it - he could feel himself teetering on the brink. 

And yet, a friendly hand in the centre of his back was all it took to draw him back from the edge. "I should be thanking you," Fran said with a sympathetic chuckle, and roll of her eyes at the officers' expense. "I thought they'd never leave."

Managing a weak, but grateful smile to the receptionist, Butchy finally picked his mug up from the drink station and took his leave before he could draw any more unwanted attention to himself. Jennifer's squawking voice still rang in his ears as his footsteps pounded down the hall, desperate (for once) to shut himself away in his office. At least in there he knew he was safe from further embarrassment, even if the only thing waiting for him was a stack of files on petty traffic crimes. Apparently reading about speeding fines and parking tickets was all the excitement his life could afford him for the time being. But, for once, he actually found some comfort in that. 

"Well, Wuthering Heights, you were fun while you lasted, but I am not going to miss you," Vivien snorted, holding the worn paperback out in front of her, as if to address it like an old friend. 

The gentle chuckles that bounced the soft, chocolate brown curls beside her set her innocent little middle-school heart aflutter, and she caught herself clamping her lips shut in case it tried to escape. Craving the thrill of that sensation again, she snatched a shy glance in his direction before plastering the jovial grin back on her face. "Thank you for the 'A' though, Emily." 

"What are you thanking her for? We did all the hard work," Royce scoffed. "I wrote so many notes on the moors I'm pretty sure I almost gave myself Carpal Tunnel."

A snicker crinkled the brunette's nose. "Well you do have the neater handwriting."

"And you have all the good ideas," Royce chuckled, praying desperately that the prickling he felt across his cheeks wasn't what he thought it was. 

Stopping in front of a set of painted metal doors, Vivien turned to him with a disapproving frown. "Not all the good ideas." 

"Fine… most then."

Whilst Royce may have been able to keep his blush at bay, Vivien felt hers raging like a wildfire as she downplayed his compliment with an affectionate eye-roll and pushed her way out into the crisp autumn air of the Hawkins Middle parking lot. Hopefully a bracing breeze like the one that smacked her across the face the second she set foot onto the asphalt would help her systems stop running on overdrive, because right now she felt like a live wire about to catch light. One wrong move from Royce and he'd be fried to a crisp. 

Wrapping her free hand around the forearm that flanked him, protecting his arm from being barbecued should he decide to fondly bump her as they fell into stride once more, Vivien, composure regained, offered him a smile. "I guess that makes us a pretty good team then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," he agreed, holding her gaze for a beat and letting the sincerity of the moment swell alongside the tingly, warm feeling spreading through his chest. "...And we've got the A to prove it." Terrified by the sensation, he snorted out a laugh that shattered the tenderness of the moment just as awkwardly as how he almost tripped over his own feet because he was spending more time looking at Vivien and her freaking dimples than where he was walking. Damn his stupid hand-me-down sneakers from Miles and their stupidly long laces.

More awkward, cheerful chuckles tumbled from the middle schoolers' lips as Royce steadied himself again and they made their way over to the cluster of trees by the soccer field. It didn't take Vivien long to break the comfortable silence that had fallen over them though. "I don't know what we're going to do with ourselves now that project's finished; it completely took over our lives for like two whole weeks there."

"I'm sure we'll find something."

But Royce's laidback grin was the complete antithesis of Vivien's tense shoulders and skittish gaze. Then again, he had no idea what she was planning, or what her skating friends had been begging her to do for weeks. 

It couldn't be that hard, right? It was just one little question. She asked him questions all the time, this one didn't need to be any different. And besides, there wasn't really anything Vivien felt as though she couldn't talk to Royce about; he was her best friend, he was always her first port of call for anything that was bothering her - well, unless it was about something like her period; that was strictly for her mom…

But this was just a question: one that could very well have been asked without another thought had she not attached all the extra weight to it in her mind. And yet here she was, fighting her own tongue, trying to persuade it to recite the script she'd meticulously planned out in her head the night before, because for some reason it wasn't convinced by her promised ability to brush the sentiment off as 'just a friend thing' should Royce take it badly. And neither was her mind, really. 

Realistically though, what was the worst thing that could happen if he had a weird reaction? It's not like a meteor would crash out of the sky and strike them both down or anything, no matter how much she may want it to in the moment - she knew; she'd checked and it wasn't the right time of year for it. The worst that could happen is things might be a little awkward between them for a couple days, right? He wouldn't- 

-Actually, scratch that. Vivien didn't want to think about it. 

"Well, actually…" she began, before she could talk herself out of it any further. 

Vivien felt Royce's gaze land on her the second she stopped to clear her throat, which had become inexplicably scratchy ever since those last words had left it, clearly so reluctant to be said they'd dug their heels in the entire journey out into the cool, October air. And as soon as it did, it felt as though all her sweat glands released at once, adding a glistening sheen to her already crimson skin. Horrified, Vivien kept her gaze on the ground a few paces ahead of her to avoid having to find out if Royce had realised, and pushed her round, silver-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose in an attempt to shield herself from further embarrassment as a result of her thirteen-year-old hormones wreaking havoc in her own body. 

Fearing that the longer she dragged this on, the more her subconscious would betray her, she swallowed her nerves and ploughed ahead. "Do you remember how you missed out on going to watch The NeverEnding Story this summer because you had to spend your ticket money on a new wheel for your bike?"

In her periphery, Vivien saw Royce's hand shift up to play with the fraying fabric of his backpack strap. He only ever did that when he felt uncomfortable. She didn't even have to look at him to confirm it either, the pause before he responded told her almost as much as his tone of voice did. 

"...Yeah, but what does that-?"

"Hey nerds!" 

Despite their disdain for the term, both Vivien and Royce's heads whipped around to try to locate the source of the voice, mentally cursing themselves for even acknowledging that the phrase could have been used to refer to them, let alone responding to it. But as green and brown eyes scanned a sparse sea of middle schoolers, searching for signs of anyone with ill-intent, they came up short. 

"Over here!"

The voice, carried on the wind, drew the pair's gazes to a figure, practically standing on the bench of a rotting, wooden picnic table to try to grab their attention and their disgruntled grumblings fell from their lips within seconds of one another, replaced by fond sighs. 

Bentley waved the duo towards him so spectacularly that, for all they knew, he could have been directing a plane to land. And whilst Vivien couldn't help but smile at the blond's boundless energy, she also couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with how easily Royce shelved their conversation by letting out an almost relieved: "Duty calls."

"Yeah," Vivien agreed with a forced smile and a breathy, awkward laugh to match his. Although it dropped from her face the second he turned his back to head over to the shaded seating area. 

Once he was a good few paces ahead of her, and she was sure he was out of earshot, Vivien let out a frustrated huff, so hot she was surprised it didn't steam up her glasses. "Goddammit, Bentley," she muttered, shoving her library copy of Wuthering Heights into her backpack as she started trudging along behind Royce. "I almost got through it all that time."

But Bentley was none the wiser to Vivien's grand plans; too excited by his own news to consider that the pair may have been busy. And besides, the easygoing grin his older brother shot him as he approached made him none the wiser. 

"You've gotta come up with something better to call us, Benny," Royce said, fondly shaking his head as he climbed the last few steps of the hill leading up to the picnic table, adorned by Bentley's friends, the contents of at least three up-turned pencil cases, and enough sheets of paper to paper mache a small child. Thankfully, the table was sheltered from the worst of the breeze, so the most that a stray gust could do was flutter the edges beneath the various, makeshift paperweights (dog-eared textbooks and unopened juice boxes) strewn across the splintering surface.

"Why? You are 'nerds'," the boy laughed as he bounced back down into his spot on the bench seat beside August. 

"We are not," Royce protested.

"It got you to come over here, didn't it?" Bentley replied with a cheesy smirk. 

Royce let out a slightly bitter sigh as he fumbled through a response. "Well- yeah, but it's… demeaning." 

"Then why'd you respond to it?" Kona snorted, apparently more focused on selecting the right shade of crayon than bothering to look Royce in the eye as she insulted him. 

The bluntness of the eleven-year-old's comment drew a snort of laughter from him before he could stop it, whether it was in amusement or incredulity though he'd never know. But the smile that threatened to envelop his disapproving frown stayed firmly in place as he said, "Because I'm so used to everyone else calling us it, that's why. And you shouldn't be contributing to the problem anyway; I thought we were all on the same side here."

"You calling us nerds, RJ?" Zack piped up with a challenging quirk of his eyebrow. 

"Pot calls the kettle black," Royce smirked.

"White boy says what now?" Zack retorted with a confused frown that soon gave way to a mischievous grin the second that Royce rolled his eyes and playfully ruffled his hair, insisting through shared laughter that the boy knew what he meant. 

"What are you guys doing up here?" Vivien asked with a breathy laugh of her own as she arrived at the picnic table and caught the end of the boys' friendly roughhousing.

"Having fun until you nerds showed up," Zack scoffed as he shoved Royce's chest in an attempt to get the older boy away from him. But the bubbling giggles that tumbled from his lips as Royce expressed his disdain for the name once more told everyone all they needed to know about how much he enjoyed the brunet's company - proved even further when he resorted to wrapping his arms around his torso and tackling him into a hug from his spot on the bench. 

"Looks like it," Vivien noted with a bemused chuckle. "What's all this then? You writing out your own comic book or something?" she continued, gesturing to the vast collection of paper spread out before the quartet. 

"We're designing our characters for this cool new game Gus brought in," Bentley raved, holding up his sheet of paper for Vivien to see. "Look at my guy, he's got a wand that's disguised as a paintbrush and this magic flute that lets him talk to animals." 

"Damn, Benny, that's so cool," she grinned, marvelling at the artwork with almost as much care as the blond put into creating it. 

"And look, here's the one I'm doing for Gus," Bentley continued, shuffling the papers around until he selected the right one. 

"You didn't want to draw out your own?" Vivien asked the boy, whose sandy blond eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. 

"Nah; Ben's better at art," August admitted, only glancing up from his work to shoot his oblivious friend a shy smile. "And I enjoy the planning part of it more anyway," he went on to explain. "So he's doing the drawing, and I'm filling out his character sheet for him." 

"Yeah, 'cause there was no way I was gonna be able to deal with all that," Bentley snorted.

"This looks like a lot of work for just one game," Vivien noted, inching another piece of paper towards her and finding it covered from top to bottom in meticulously written words, numbers, and the occasional, scribbled doodle. 

"Tell me about it," Kona scoffed. "I feel like we got extra math homework with this stupid number system we've got to work off of," she added with a huff that blew a straw strand of hair away from her eyes. Begrudgingly tapping the open, yellowing pages of an intricately illustrated book with the end of a pencil, she brought the thirteen-year-old's gaze to the table she was drawing from. 

"You guys are willingly doing math over lunch and you're calling us nerds?" Royce asked with a teasing incredulity that earned him further, playful bickering from Zack. 

"So what do you do with all this when you've created your characters then?" Vivien continued, feeling a fond smile tugging at her lips as Royce's unbridled laughter tickled her ears. Fighting the urge to swat the imagined sensation away, she focused her attention on the other children at the table. "What's this dorky wizard math game called?" 

"Dungeons and Dragons," Bentley explained.

Vivien’s ears perked up. “Dungeons and Dragons? That weird roleplaying game Riven plays with his sweaty high school friends?” 

“Who’s Riven?” Kona asked.

“My skating partner,” Vivien said, throwing the explanation away like a used napkin so that she could get back to the main point at hand. 

“Ew, so is he like your boyfriend then?” Kona teased with a devilish wiggle of her eyebrows. 

“No!” Vivien blurted, maybe a little too quickly if everyone turning to look at her was anything to go by. "No, not like… It's just- He's like my brother, ok?" she hurriedly tried to explain, trying to ignore the bile now creeping at the back of her throat the very thought alone had placed there. 

"Ok," Kona snorted, smirking to herself as she caught Royce's shoulders slump in relief in her periphery. Making the ninth-graders squirm was a favourite pastime of hers, and lately, all this girlfriend-boyfriend talk around them, despite making her want to hurl, had been a homerun every time. 

"I didn’t know Riven played DnD,” Bentley piped up, earning himself a grateful smile from Vivien for taking some of the heat off her. 

“Neither did I until he made us switch our practice days so that he could go play pretend with a bunch of dorks out the back of Eddie 'the freak' Munson's trailer."

"Riven's in that weird Hellraiser club?" Royce asked, bushy eyebrow raised in disbelief. 

"My sister says they're all devil worshippers," Zack mumbled.

"It's Hellfire," Vivien corrected. "And they're not devil worshippers - well, Riven's not anyway. As far as I know they're just losers in matching shirts who play make believe like they're still in first grade."

"It's more than just playing make believe," August dared to pipe up with a somewhat defensive frown, immediately toying with the corner of Bentley's character sheet the second the group's attention landed on him. A sideways glance in the blond's direction earned him a reassuring smile that breathed some much needed confidence into his lungs, and as he released it, he said, "There's this whole world you can build your own stories around with all these super detailed characters and a bunch of lore you can discover. I spent my whole weekend reading through the books my cousin gave me and that doesn't even cover half of it. It's like one big choose-your-own adventure story, but everyone gets a say in what happens, and gets to feel like they're a part of it."

A beaming grin and steel blue eyes, sparkling with excitement, found Royce with startling ease. "Doesn't that sound cool?!" Bentley enthused.

"...It actually does," Royce admitted, even surprising himself with his answer. 

"Hear that, Auggie? You didn't even have to mention dragons to convince someone that time," Kona snickered, firing the curly haired boy beside her a smirk. 

"Whatever," Zack scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You thought they sounded cool too," he added with an accusatory nudge of the blonde's elbow that had her cursing him under her breath for making her pencil skim across the page. 

Ignoring his friends' sibling-like arguing, so used to it by now that it honestly would have been stranger to acknowledge it, Bentley kept his attention, and his toothy grin, focused on his older brother. "I knew you'd like it! You're always borrowing those old fantasy books from the library and writing your own versions of them."

"Well- yeah, ok, but what does that have to do with this?" Royce stuttered, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment despite Vivien's small, amused smile. 

"Well this is just like that! Gus wrote out our first campaign all by himself," Bentley gushed before leaning into the shying blond beside him. "That's like the story, right?" he checked in a hushed tone. And after receiving a confirmatory nod, he turned back to Royce with renewed enthusiasm. "The plot, the monsters, the bonus quests - he came up with it all!" 

Bentley pushed a stack of papers towards his brother, bound by treasury tags and bearing enough ink to have drained an entire pack of ballpoint pens. "Holy shit," Royce breathed as he picked it up and began flipping through the makeshift book, becoming more and more stunned with every turn of a page. "You wrote this whole thing by yourself?" he asked August, who timidly nodded. "In one weekend?" Again, the boy nodded, this time a little more eagerly. And Royce could see why. "...Wow," he marvelled, smiling as he watched the younger boy swell with pride. "This is really impressive, August."

"You put some serious work into this, huh?" Vivien noted.

"Yeah, I guess," August admitted as his steadily reddening cheeks were pulled aside by an appreciative grin. "It's not like I minded though," he went on to hurriedly explain. "It all came together pretty quickly once I got into it. Plus it gave me an excuse to shut myself up in my room away from my stuffy aunt and that stupid dog she carries around in her purse," he added, earning himself a bright laugh from Bentley that completely stalled his train of thought. Luckily, it was nothing that clearing his throat and refocusing his gaze on the blond's character sheet couldn't fix though. "I guess I just thought it would be something fun for us all to do together, you know?"

"Yeah, it sure sounds like it," Vivien said with a warm smile. But there was still a little, nagging thought hammering away at the back of her head, and she feared that if she didn't use this opportunity of an out as her last-ditch attempt at getting Royce alone before the end of the school day then that nagging thought would break right through her skull and puncture her brain with its pesky little pickaxe. And she needed all the brainpower she could muster to get through this, so she did not want to take any risks. "Anyway," she continued, snagging the attention of the table of eleven-year-olds as she clapped her hands together. "We'd better let you guys get back to planning. We wouldn't want to be the reason for you guys delaying your first adventure now, would we?" she asked rhetorically, firing a knowing look across at Royce that was not-so-subtly hidden behind a theatrical grin.

If Royce picked up on the intensity behind Vivien's gaze though, he didn't show it, instead remaining as blissfully oblivious as he always seemed to be when it came to her intentions as he took his turn to offer a fond smile to the table of his brother's friends. "You'll have to let us know how it goes," he said, before adding with a chuckle: "I'm invested now; it sounds awesome."

Breathing out a sigh of relief between her teeth as Royce rounded the picnic table to join her, Vivien kept her almost clown-like smile plastered to her face as she thanked whatever great powers were at work for making Royce ever so slightly more perceptive than the other, gormless teenage boys in their class. But just as she was inching her way back down the hill, and readying her opening line for the brunet once they were out of earshot of the eager little gremlins, one of them piped up with a perfectly pointed pin to burst her bubble. 

"Why don't you just play with us then?" 

Bentley's wide-eyed, hopeful grin was the only thing keeping Vivien from snatching up Kona's muddy jump rope and strangling him with it. Besides the years upon years of sibling-like friendship, obviously.

Forcing out a strained laugh, she managed a tight, "It's alright, Benny, we don't want to crash your fun." 

"You're not crashing anything; we want you to join in. Right, guys?" 

Ok, so Bentley can't read social cues… Good to know. 

It would have made things a hell of a lot easier if Vivien could have known about that before she set the wheels of her master plan into motion though, because right now she felt like they were so out of sync they were about to derail the handcar she'd strapped this grand idea of hers to. But even if she could have brought herself to get mad at Bentley, Zack jumped to the blond's defence before she even had the chance. 

"Yeah, we're gonna need all the help we can get because Kona can't add up for shit and I'm not about to let my guy Omar Scale Crusher die after I've spent all this time working out his stats."

"I can't add up for shit?! What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who got put in Math 2!"

"Only for a week! And I totally got a better grade than you on that test last week."

"No you didn't!"

"Did too!"

"Bite me!" 

As the pair energetically bickered about Zack's accusations, which Kona steadfastly claimed were built on entirely false foundations, Vivien found her frustration with the picnic table occupants crumbling away. After all, they weren't to know that she'd been practising for this lunchtime conversation with Royce for weeks. How could they? The only others she'd confided in were her three skating friends and the balding Big Bird stuffed animal from the end of her bed that had taken on the role of Royce during her many rehearsals. And she couldn't blame them for their excitement over the game either; even she had to admit that it sounded pretty cool. Plus, after hearing Riven rhapsodise about Hellfire's epic campaigns for weeks now, she was starting to get a little curious about the game and how it was played. 

"Omar Scale Crusher, huh?" she eventually chuckled, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Zack that soon ground his and Kona's squabbling to a halt. "How'd you come up with that?" 

"Isn't it sick? Auggie had this big list of names with cool meanings to help us decide."

After shuffling through the endless sheets of paper around him, August found the right one and went on to explain for a very enthusiastic Zack: "Omar means 'one who has a long life'."

"Yeah, so he'd better live up to his damn name! I'm not planning this whole thing out to have him die in the first round," he declared with a hearty laugh, before tagging on: "Plus my uncle's called Omar and he's awesome."

Vivien couldn't help her snort of laughter at the blunt innocence. "Very creative," she noted. "What is he then? Like a viking or something?"

"No, he's a wizard," Zack stated matter-of-factly. "'Cause why would I bother using a sword when I could just kill an enemy with magic?" 

"How come your guy's holding a sword then?" 

Royce's frank delivery, from over the younger boy's shoulder, had a laugh spurting from between Vivien's lips before she could stop it. And Bentley, August, and Kona were all quick to follow suit. 

However, as to be expected, the brash brunet soon scrambled a retaliation. "Well I'd still want one for backup."

"No duh," Kona chuckled as she finished shading in the metallic sheath of the dagger her character clutched in a leather clad fist. "Magic or not, you still need a weapon."

"Is your character a wizard too then?" Vivien asked Kona, but the incredulous snort the blonde let out could have told her all she needed to know on its own.

"No, Andromeda doesn't need to rely on magic to keep herself out of danger; her dexterity's off the charts." 

Before another argument could break out between Zack and Kona as a result of her roundabout dig at him, August decided to speak for the table. "Zack’s our mage, Kona's our thief, Ben's our Bard and my guy's a ranger."

"But you're the dungeon master too, right?" Bentley checked, mischievous blue eyes peeking out from beneath furrowed bows. 

August's own eyes were drawn to Bentley's the second that he'd opened his mouth, but the smirk tugging at his friend's lips was what captured his attention. "What's so funny?" he challenged through a chuckle that coaxed one out of Bentley too. "You don't think I could be a dungeon master?"

"I never said that," Bentley laughed. But the look the boys shared meant they both knew that's what his tone had implied.

"You didn't have to."

"Well can you blame me? It just sounds so menacing and scary. I know you read all those horror books and stuff, but come on, you're about as intimidating as Winnie the Pooh - who, last time I checked, was still tucked under your comforter next to your pillow and your old baby blanket."

Jaw dropped in incredulity, August lightly elbowed Bentley in the ribs. "I can so be intimidating," he retorted. But if he was pretending to be mad at the boy, his true feelings were soon revealed by the smile he couldn't seem to keep off his face.

"Yeah, well, we've yet to see it," Kona bluntly noted, which once again set Royce and Vivien off giggling at the sixth graders. 

"You sound like you've got a pretty well-rounded group then," Royce carried on, drawing the conversation back to August's point from earlier. "Are there even any roles left for us? Or are we going to have to start doubling up?"

"You can double up if you want, but there's still a bunch of classes that haven't been picked yet," August explained, flipping through the large book spread out before him until he got to the right page. "We've not got a druid, a cleric, or a fighter."

"What does a fighter do?" Royce asked.

"Fighters are weapons-oriented warriors, who fight using skill, strategy, and tactics," August recited from his handbook, bringing the group's attention to the detailed illustration of an armoured swordsman, wielding what looked to be an incredibly heavy shield with almost no effort at all.

The second Vivien's eyes met the page she knew it was game over; her imagination kicked into overdrive and tossed all other thoughts about how she could have been spending this lunchtime to the curb. Racing at a million miles an hour, her brain plucked ideas from seemingly thin air and began piecing together a muscular young woman, strong enough to knock an ox clean off its feet in one quick shove, although you'd never know it since her frame was cleverly disguised in roughened leather padding, tarnished silver armour, and rich, violet robes fashioned into a sort of cape. Her face was weathered, but kind, and her vibrant, emerald eyes sparkled with determination, and the promise of adventure. Like the picture in August's book, the woman carried a large, battle-scarred sword by its ornate handle, and kept a hefty shield vigilantly by her side, painted in, again, deep shades of indigo, violet, and the blood of her enemies, naturally. She also had a quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder though, nestled beside a crossbow, just peeking out from behind a head of flowing, chestnut locks. The heroine had no time for preening, so her hair was tousled with grease and grime from combatting the elements on her journeys, but as it fluttered in the wind, it was kept away from her face by intricate braids, weighed down by silver rings and stolen jewels of amethyst and topaz. She smiled at Vivien from the forefront of her mind, as if marking her territory there, and Vivien felt her heart skip a beat as she breathed out a quiet, and hopefully nonchalant: "Hmm…cool."

"That sounds like a good one for you, Viv. Strategy and tactics? You're great with planning stuff out," Royce noted. But one glance in her direction and his face broke into a knowing smile the second he clocked her eyes, glazed over in thought, and lips, parted in awe. 

"Yeah, and look, you'd make a great cleric," Bentley continued, pulling Royce's gaze away from Vivien, albeit reluctantly. Flipping the page of August's handbook, he excitedly tapped at a drawing of a tall man, draped in heavy, fur pelts and bronzed chainmail. A glowing staff was held in one hand, and a massive axe was thrown over his shoulder as though it weighed no more than a sack of flour. 

"Clerics are versatile figures, both capable in combat and skilled in the use of divine magic," August recited from the page after a light, nudge from Bentley. "They're also powerful healers."

"See? That's perfect for you! You're always helping patch us up if we fall off our bikes," Bentley enthused, undeterred by the amused chuckles that his brother unleashed as a result of what he thought was an adorably innocent explanation. 

"Yeah, and we could use a healer on our team, especially with those two and their lack of impulse control," August snorted as he gestured to Kona and Zack, who jumped at the chance to express their indignation. 

As the group of friends returned to jovially bickering amongst themselves, Royce and Vivien's minds were quietly whirring with ideas. Ideas which, upon glancing at one another, they soon realised were all too perfectly aligned. 

"What do you say then, losers?" Kona finally asked once she'd finished fighting her ground against the boys, snapping the eighth-graders out of their heads and bringing them back to reality with a knowing smirk. "Are you playing with us or not?"

Royce, as always, left the decision to Vivien. But the hopeful glimmer in his caramel eyes, paired with her own, itching curiosity made that decision all too easy. And besides, even if she wasn't spending time alone with Royce, she was still spending time with him. And that was good enough for her.

…For now. 

"Well… I guess one game couldn't hurt, right?" she said with a smirk that soon broke out into a grin as Bentley's face lit up like a firework display. And it only grew when she glanced across at Royce for one last confirmation that she'd made the right decision, only to find him beaming with almost as much enthusiasm as his brother. 

If this nerdy little game brought Royce this much joy, and was even half as much fun as it sounded, then Vivien knew it would be worth another few hours of crippling anxiety. Besides, she hoped that she could immerse herself in the story so much that she'd forget all about her predicament with the brunet anyway. But as they took their places at the picnic table, and Royce's sneaker brushing against her shin shot a jolt of adrenaline up her leg with such a force that she almost jumped straight back out of her seat, she knew that that was just wishful thinking. Covering up the brief waver in her cool, confident exterior with a quiet cough, she tried to refocus her mind on the endless streams of information August was unleashing on the pair of them.

"-and so the group our characters all belong to is called The Circle of the Emerald Torches, but part of the first campaign is about how we get our name, so I'll explain more about that later. Before you start, and before I give you your character sheets though, if you want to be in our party then you'll need to recite the Oath of Noble Heroes so that we know you're serious about this."

"Don't worry, we had to do it too. But it's so cool, you'll love it! And then there's a declaration of loyalty for you to sign somewhere too," Bentley tagged on before the boys started animatedly babbling amongst themselves about the ins and outs of their party's rules again. 

Shaking his head at the pair, Royce took the opportunity of them being distracted to lean over to Vivien and teasingly chuckle, "What the hell have you just gotten us into?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the boy, knowing that his enthusiasm for the game was a major driving factor in her decision to play, and that he was also well-aware of that fact, she looked him square in the face and hid her smirk behind a deadly serious, blank expression, "I'm pretty sure we just joined a cult." 

American History, Volume 2, lay open on page 38. And it had laid there like that for the past 45 minutes, having been abandoned by its current owner almost as soon as it had been removed from their backpack. Because instead of completing the assigned history homework, the desk's occupant was using their study hall period much more wisely: by shredding a solo, courtesy of Ozzy Osbourne, on possibly the most prestigious instrument of all: the air guitar.

Ethan's eyes slid shut, and a blissful smile curled his lips as he mashed the volume button on his Walkman with practised ease. Bar after bar of 'Crazy Train' pounded through his skull at a staggering volume, rattling what little of his brain was left in the mostly vacant space between his ears, helped along by the bopping of his head in time with the song's beat. When his fingers weren't plucking out riffs on imaginary strings, they were banging out the drumline on a drum kit that was just as real as his Gibson SG. And all the while, he was passionately miming the lyrics for his audience of the pencil shavings and dust mites that hugged the wall beside his desk. 

He felt the music in his bones. The bass line pumped through his veins. Every note that was played resonated through the chambers of his heart until it felt like the song was as much a part of him as his left arm. And the deeper he let himself sink into the music, the less aware of his surroundings he became - or the less he cared to remember them anyway. Until a sharp elbow to the ribs shattered his rockstar illusions, that is. 

Bleary brown eyes met earnest, steel blue, and held nothing but confusion for the several seconds it took him to realise that Miles’ mouth was moving without making a sound. 

“What?” Ethan bellowed, prying a wailing headphone speaker away from his ears as he leaned closer to the exasperated brunet. 

“Jesus, man!” Miles exclaimed under his breath as he reached across to his friend’s Walkman to frantically turn the volume down. “Are you trying to blow your eardrums out or something?” 

“That would be pretty metal, so maybe,” Ethan chuckled, entirely unphased. But Miles’ disapproving frown soon had him rolling out an explanation. “You’ve got a front row seat for my biggest show yet and you’re choosing to lecture me about volume control? I can care about my hearing when I’m in the retirement home.”

“You’ll be lucky if you make it to a retirement home," Miles snorted. "You've got the survival skills of a two dollar house plant."

Instead of arguing back, or even rolling his eyes at his best friend's dig, Ethan just continued chuckling along in agreement as he slid his headphones down to rest around his neck - still blaring out Ozzy Osbourne's vocals, although they were only just audible over the hubbub of chatter and laughter that filled the rest of the classroom. "What were you saying before anyway?" he went on to ask. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah, the answer to number four."

"Pfft, you think I've even made it past one?" Ethan guffawed, astonished and highly amused that Miles thought highly enough of him to assume he hadn't been shirking his responsibilities all afternoon. "I've got no fucking clue. What chapter are we on again? Abraham Lincoln?"

The mix of despair and disbelief Ethan was faced with when he glanced back across at Miles told him his guess might not have been as accurate as he'd pitched it to be. "...Are we not on Abraham Lincoln?"

"We haven't done Abraham Lincoln since freshman year," Miles deadpanned before letting out a chuckle of his own. "When was the last time you actually paid attention in one of Mr Bishop's classes?"

"Probably freshman year," Ethan noted with a laugh, slumping back in his seat and starting to rock on the back two legs of the flimsy, plastic chair. "I think the only chance I've got at retaining any of the information in that textbook for this month's pop quiz is if I eat it."

The look of reproach Miles shot the carefree stoner could have fooled any passerby into thinking that he was the boy's father, but he blamed that on the past however many years of having to act as a sole parental figure for two young boys - who, on several occasions, had actually proved to be far more mature than the lank-haired brunet before him. More often than not, Ethan felt like a third child he had to keep alive. And somehow, his lack of height was not one of the driving factors behind that reasoning.

"Oh come on, don't give me that look," Ethan groaned, ever the resentful teenager in their relationship. "You've not exactly been Mr Studious yourself today."

"What are you talking about?" 

"Well you've been stuck on that same question for the last twenty minutes 'cause you keep making goo-goo eyes at you know who," Ethan smirked as Miles' eyes widened in horror and his forehead started to prickle with sweat. 

"No I don't," he indignantly tried.

"I thought you said you were over her," Ethan teased.

"I am! It's not like that anyway," Miles muttered, then added. "And it's not been twenty minutes."

"It totally has."

"How the hell would you know? You've been listening to Motorhead since we sat down."

"Yeah but my fuckin' eyes still work," Ethan snorted, hitting Miles with a loving grin that had him rolling his eyes before Ethan had even finished his sentence. And yet, the boy's frustration did nothing to deter him from probing further. "What's the stalking for this time then? You know, if you're not trying to get in her pants anymore." 

Miles was at as much of a loss as Ethan. His eyes found the head of bouncing, blonde curls with almost no effort at all (likely a result of an entire study hall period of practice), searching for some sort of answer. But all he found was a dull, fluttering in his chest. 

Even the giddy, lovestruck butterfly that had been trapped in there for months seemed to have admitted defeat. 

Still, his gaze never wavered. He watched airy laughter spill from her glossy lips, and her nose crinkle beneath brilliantly blue eyes, framed by thick, black lashes and copious amounts of mascara. Whilst before, Miles could have eaten through a movie theatre's entire popcorn supply and still want to look just a little longer, in that moment he just felt empty. And that’s when he realised it wasn't actually Carrie herself that was occupying his mind, it was everyone else around her, and how she was treating them. Plucking a proudly presented flyer for a house party from one, impishly teasing another, waving at Sharon Frye on her way out the door, firing a flirty wink in jest at Steve Harrington after giggling at one of his jokes…

Miles was certain she'd looked at every other person in that room at least once since their study hall period had begun, and yet the closest her eyes had ventured over to him was when she glanced at the clock on the wall. Every thought in his head was plagued by her smile, or her voice, or her laugh… Had he ever even crossed her mind? 

"Do you think she actually cares about us?"

Miles hadn't been able to bring himself to tear his forlorn gaze from the blonde in question, but that didn't stop Ethan from snorting out an answer. "Well yeah, I'd hope so; we spend enough time with her." 

"Not by choice," Miles huffed. 

“Well she talks to us now, and that’s more than we could have said before we worked with her, so that’s got to count for something,” Ethan chuckled. “But if this is about what I think it’s about, then she absolutely cares about you, dude. Like way more than the rest of us.”

“You really think so?” 

“Dude, it’s like you two are glued at the hip. I can’t get you away from each other for shit once we close every night,” Ethan replied. And when Miles still looked unsure, he added, “Why else do you think I always get stuck cleaning the kitchen with Mick? She hates my guts!”

“No she does not,” Miles softly chuckled.

“Well I definitely don’t think she likes me, not like Carrie likes you anyway,” he retorted with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows. “I’m telling you, man. There’s something there. There’s no way she’d laugh at your crappy jokes like she does if she didn’t at least have a little interest in you - I don’t care if Mick thinks it’s bullshit, I know I’m right.”

Miles just rolled his eyes, but a hopeful smile desperately pulled at his lips, no matter how many times he tried to dismiss it. “I don’t know, I think she probably just does it to be nice,” he mused, watching as Carrie animatedly responded to Rachel Price before turning back to resume her conversation with the girl sat beside her - the very girl that Miles still had an irrepressible urge to swap lives with: Juliet Harmon. Now faced with nothing but the back of her head, he quickly lost interest in the view. “…She seems to act like that with most people.”

“She definitely does not, man. Why do you think the entire marching band is scared to look her in the eye? She’s like one of the biggest bitches in school,” Ethan scoffed. But he paused when he realised Miles wasn’t laughing along with him. “Why does it matter how she acts around other people anyway?” 

“It doesn’t,” Miles huffed. “…Not really.” 

But the second he dared to make eye contact with his oldest friend, the floodgates opened and the truth came tumbling out. 

“I just…feel stupid for letting her get in my head, and for actually thinking that we had something special - that I was somehow different to all the other idiots who throw themselves at her to get a second of her attention. But here I am, thinking about her constantly, hanging onto every interaction we have like my fucking life depends on it, only for her to… Ugh, I don't know. I just…don't want it all to not mean anything to her, when it means so much to me - no matter how much I try to convince myself it doesn't. I mean, yeah, she's nice to me at work - really nice - but she barely even acknowledges me outside of All Skate… It's like I don't even exist, like she doesn't even realise I'm there. And it makes me feel like shit."

"She barely acknowledges anyone," Ethan absentmindedly mused. "I wouldn't take it personally."

"That's a lot easier said than done," Miles huffed dejectedly. There was something freeing about Ethan's nonchalance over Miles' feelings though; it made them feel less suffocating. And whilst he still felt entirely hopeless about the situation, he did feel a little bit of the pressure ease off as he rested his chin on his hand and let his mind start to wander. "...You think she actually considers us friends?"

"Sure; she calls us her work friends all the time."

"No but like her actual friends," Miles clarified. 

"Dude, I don't fucking know; the female mind is a mystery to me at the best of times, but hers is on a whole other level," Ethan scoffed in incredulity. "Do you not remember that like thirty minute debate I had with her about diet sodas? Actual insanity.”

Miles' quiet chuckling as he reminisced about what had started as an innocent question, yet progressed to a full-blown screaming match, with each participant equally as confused and frustrated as the other, was soon silenced by Ethan's next prompt though. "I know a way you can find out though…"

"...No!" 

"Oh come on, man. Don't be a sissy. It'll be so easy. And then you can stop getting hung up on all these bogus hypotheticals."

Miles' initial horror slowly dissipated as Ethan's reasoning started to lure out a far greater force from its hiding place in the corner of his brain: his curiosity. "...You really think I can just go up and talk to her? In class?" he asked, as his eyes once again found that jumble of golden curls. 

"Sure, why not? It's only study hall." 

Again, Ethan's nonchalance, which was only heightened by the fact that he was trying to balance a pen on his curled upper lip as he responded, did far more for Miles' confidence than any pep talk of his own could have. And besides, maybe he was onto something - maybe it really was that simple; it always was in his world. 

"It wouldn't be weird?" Miles double-checked. 

"Why would it be weird? All you're gonna do is talk to her. And we already established you two are friends, so what could go wrong?" 

Miles shuddered at the very thought. "So much."

Ethan glanced across at him, ready to fire out further encouragement like a sixth grader with a penchant for making spitballs, but when he clocked his friend's nervous fidgeting, he reconsidered his situation and gained a little clarity. "Ok…yeah, fine, stuff could go wrong. But are you gonna die?" he proposed.

"No," Miles begrudgingly mumbled.

"Are you gonna break something?"

"No, but-"

"Then how bad can it be?" Ethan cut in with a lopsided, optimistic grin before Miles could tie himself up in any more self-conscious knots. "Just get over there and scratch that itch that's been bugging you for weeks; it's not gonna stop until you do. And you'll feel so much better after."

It took Miles by surprise every time it happened, but yet again, it seemed as though Ethan might actually be…right. This question of Carrie's loyalty had been eating away at him for weeks now. And, as he'd stressed earlier, it was making him feel shittier and shittier with every day he let it drag on. Asking her outright was a definite way to get his answer… It was just going to require him growing some balls, as anything to do with All Skate's resident disc jockey apparently made his own shrink to the size of peas.

"...Just walk over and talk to her?" Miles checked. Although, between us, he was just stalling to give himself more time to muster some courage.

"Yeah, as a friend," Ethan confirmed. 

"You really think I can pull that off?" Miles asked with a dubious, but hopeful quirk of his eyebrow that had Ethan melting like a bomb pop that had been left out in the 4th of July sun.

"Absolutely," he grinned, totally enamoured by his friend's giddy trepidation, and the promise of a relationship he so steadfastly defended. "She's got a major soft spot for you, man. I see it like every night," he went on to reassure. "There's no way she's gonna blow you off. You'll be fine."

And as a result of that dopey grin, complemented by the ratty, chestnut locks, and vacant, dark chocolate eyes… Miles believed him. 

"...Ok, I'm going in," he breathed through a determined smile. 

"Atta boy," Ethan chuckled, fist-bumping Miles before tipping his chair back onto all four of its legs again, as though to signal the resolution of their predicament. "Go scratch that itch," he added, finishing their little handshake with a bolstering point before lifting his headphones back over his ears and disappearing back into his wildest rock star fantasies - totally oblivious to the disaster about to unfold right behind him as Miles took a deep breath and waded into the wild, uncharted waters of the female mindset. 

"So now that we know that y=7, we plug that into this side of the function, that we've already simplified, to give us this…which then means that we can carry this over here, giving us x=3." 

…Silence.

"Right?" Juliet checked, although the satisfied smile that had settled on her carnation pink lips as soon as she finished the sum was beginning to falter into one of desperation as she turned to her tutee. "Did you follow along ok that time?"

But all Juliet was met with was a glassy stare and an infatuated grin, smushed between two fists as its owner rested their chin on their palms. "You're so smart, Julie," Carrie breathed. 

Juliet just rolled her eyes, although she did little to hide the bashful blush tickling her cheeks. “Never mind that, did you understand how I worked it out that time?” 

"...Kind of?" Carrie tried, offering a lopsided, hopeful grin to try to lessen the blow.

If Juliet's exasperated huff was anything to go by though: it didn't work. But her frustration dissolved the second that she met Carrie's gaze. "Where did I lose you?" she asked with a gentle, patient sigh. 

"The whole reversing the function bit," Carrie admitted as she bit her lip and braced herself for Juliet's reaction. Although the blonde's expression never wavered, the dismay that flashed in her eyes soon had Carrie barrelling through an explanation. "I swear I was getting it before that this time, but then it all started to sound like you were talking in another language, and then I got distracted by that pretty way you write out the 'x' again, and then I just…"

"...Stopped listening all together?" Juliet teasingly offered with a fond smirk.

Carrie scoffed in mock-defence. "No, I listened the whole time, I just stopped taking it in," she went on to clarify. But as soon as she drew a giggle from Juliet's lips she melted into that same infatuated grin from earlier as she admitted, "I'd never stop listening to you. You know I could listen to you talk for hours."

"Even about algebra?" Juliet teasingly tested with an affectionate smile of her own. 

"Of course about algebra," Carrie gushed with a glittering honesty that soon had Juliet giggling again. "Believe it or not, this is the most I've ever understood a math module," she carried on, straightening up in her seat to help give her point a little more credibility, before tagging on a jovial, "And it's all thanks to you, smarty pants."

"Would you stop calling me that? It's so lame," Juliet protested, hiding her smile behind a frank eye roll. "And besides, I'm not that smart." 

"You so are; you're like the smartest person I know," Carrie gushed, never one to let her friends downplay their successes, much to Juliet's disgruntlement. The blonde's frown didn't deter Carrie from continuing to lovingly babble straight through her stream of consciousness though. "That brain of yours has to be huge - no wonder you get headaches all the time, it's because it doesn't have enough space in there."

Carrie's knack for making herself giggle never failed to make Juliet smile, but yet again she found herself trying to cover it up with a bashful roll of her hazel irises as she let out a sigh and attempted to get their conversation back on track. "You wanna try another question then?" 

"Don't try to change the subject," Carrie fired back with a mischievous grin. 

"I'm not, you are!" Juliet retorted, biting back an incredulous laugh. "We're supposed to be doing algebra, not Juliet 101."

Carrie's mischievous grin only broadened. "Now that's a class I might actually get an A in."

Rolling her eyes for the third time at her best friend's antics, Juliet teasingly tried, "What? Not an A+?"

"Maybe," Carrie smirked. "But then again, I might get distracted by my teacher." Her wiggling eyebrows soon had Juliet reprimanding her and attempting to draw her focus back to her school work, but Carrie's mind was already wandering off too far down a different path altogether. "...Do you think you'd ever wanna be a doctor, Julie?" 

The comment, that fell slap-bang in the middle of Juliet's offer to rewrite the steps of the previous algebra equation, baffled her into silence - so taken aback by the suggestion that she almost thought she'd misheard the golden-haired girl. "What? No," she spluttered, looking at Carrie as though she'd just sprouted a third nose. "Where did that come from?"

Juliet's confusion didn't seem to faze Carrie though, because her dreamy smile stuck it out through her whole, rambling explanation. "I don't know, I just figured you should use your big brain for a job one day. You know, like one that actually actually makes you think instead of just like a working a cash register, or stacking books or something. And you need to be super smart to be a doctor, so…"

Juliet was quick to shoot down Carrie's optimistic grin. "I do not have what it takes to be a doctor, trust me."

"Sure you do," Carrie defended. "I'd let you be my doctor."

"Oh well then hand me my diploma," Juliet sarcastically replied, once more fondly rolling her eyes and chuckling at her best friend's enamoured stare and incessant bolstering. 

"I'm serious," Carrie pressed on though, determined to get through to Juliet despite her doubtful smirk. "I'd trust you with my life, you know I would. I'd let you save my life any day of the week," she grinned. But, after giggling to herself and absentmindedly twirling her pencil between her fingers, when she finally latched onto Juliet's hazel gaze again, only to find it significantly less jovial, it was her turn to express her confusion. "What? You don't believe me?" she teasingly challenged, with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

But Juliet still didn't seem to be in the mood to joke back, as her lips fell in line with the horizon and her gaze darted to Carrie's right before finding her again. 

Ok, now Carrie was really confused. 

"Huh?" she murmured, clearly not as in tune with her best friend's thoughts as she assumed she was. 

However, this time, Juliet flicked her eyes to Carrie's right with a touch more resolve, and paired it with a slight, but very purposeful nod of her head in the same direction. And finally, Carrie seemed to get the message. 

Following Juliet's line of sight, Carrie turned to look over her shoulder, only to find herself face to face with a person that almost caught her off guard as much as Juliet's sudden shift in dynamic had. "Oh," was the first word to jump from her lips, startling her back into what Juliet lovingly dubbed as 'show-mode' as she rolled her shoulders back and fixed a brilliant smile to her face. "Hey, Miles."

The second that Carrie acknowledged Miles, any confidence he'd managed to trick himself into conjuring fled. And whilst he had a Herculean urge to do the same, he too plastered what he hoped was a convincing smile to his face as he finished his approach to the blondes' shared desk. "Hey, Carrie," he said, breathing a sigh of relief for even managing to get the words out. And yet, he still pushed a little further to add, with a nod of acknowledgement too, "Juliet." 

The entertained smirk that started pulling at the corner of Juliet's lips in response caught him off guard, and he felt his stomach gently clench in defence. But he chose to ignore it, returning his gaze to Carrie's bright smile - its familiarity putting him back at ease and igniting that usual fire in his chest that sent warmth spreading throughout his- 

Wait, why was she turning back around? 

"Right, where were we?" Carrie said, dazzling Juliet with a grin as she readied her pencil on the page. "I've got a good feeling about this next one; I think if you just take it slow-."

"Ahem," Juliet interrupted. Her gaze caught Carrie's once again and held onto it for a beat before she tilted her head forwards, signalling with her eyes that there was still something - or rather, someone - behind her. The confusion, almost disbelief, swimming in Carrie's eyes made Juliet have to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing, and locking onto Miles' look of bewildered dismay just made it even harder. But luckily, Carrie was quickly able to decipher her visual message once again, with little prompting this time.

Turning around to find that, to her surprise, Miles hadn't just been greeting her as he passed by her desk, he was, in fact, standing there - well, expectantly shuffling from foot to foot anyway - Carrie remounted her smile. Although now, Miles realised, it wasn't so welcoming. It felt almost…uncomfortable.  

"Oh, sorry. Did you want something?" she offered. 

He did - desperately so. And yet, he felt as though the sudden shift in tone had already started to write out his answer. 

The hairs on the back of his neck started to twitch as the walls of his stomach steadily closed in tighter. But, determined to stand by his heart, and prove to himself (and Mick) that his feelings weren't all built on fantasies he'd created in his head, he brushed the unease away and stood his ground. "No, not really. I just thought I'd…stop by…see how it's going."

Carrie's smile faltered again, giving way to further confusion. "...See how what's going?"

"...Study hall?" Miles said. But the response came out as more of a question than an answer, which he supposed was down to the fact that he wasn't even sure of it himself. And despite his hopeful grin, which he feared was now looking more like a grimace, he couldn't seem to stop trying to rub the growing discomfort from the back of his neck. 

God, he hoped that he didn't have any sweat stains. 

"Oh, uh, it's going fine," Carrie politely replied. Although her awkward fidgeting with her pencil's eraser told a different story. "We're just going through the algebra homework."

It was weird; it wasn't as though the conversation was making her seem 'off', it was like…the very fact he was talking to her was so distracting she couldn't settle. She was the centre of Miles' universe. And apparently he was just an asteroid in hers: a misshapen hunk of space rock, hurtling past in the blink of an eye, and completely blindsiding her with his very insignificant existence. 

A fellow asteroid must have collided with him at some point, because he could feel this weird twinge in his chest, by his heart, almost as though the impact had chipped a corner off. He swallowed thickly, pushing the creeping discomfort away. "The one for Mr Moreno's class?" 

"Mhm," Carrie confirmed with a nod. 

"Oh, nice…" Miles trailed off with an awkward chuckle and what he feared was now looking like a rather desperate smile. And he was sure his expression only got worse when his gaze was pulled off-course by Juliet, who gave him a look that made him want to give up altogether. How her hazel irises had managed to harness the ability to hiss 'you are totally blowing this' in his ear, he had no idea. And yet, the urge to prove her (and everyone else) wrong gave him the motivation to plough on. "Well, if you still need any help with it later, I don't mind going through some of the answers with you at wo-"

"It's alright," Carrie bluntly cut in, slicing out a chunk of Miles' self-esteem as she did so. "Julie's got it covered," she added, turning to dazzle the blonde with a brilliant grin. 

By the time that grin made its way around to Miles though, it felt cold. And it seemed suppressed, like she hadn't really wanted him to see it. What he feared was the beginnings of a smirk were tugging at the corners of her lips too. And whilst he wanted to believe that it wasn't at his expense - some cruel inside joke the pair of blondes had whispered with their oh-so talkative eyes in the second that Carrie's back was turned - something in the pit of his stomach told him otherwise. 

"Thanks though," Carrie lazily tacked on, with a brightness in her tone that just felt hollow to Miles now. 

"No problem," he breathed. But there was a problem, and he was staring right at her.

Miles tried to find it in him to mean the smile he sent her, but he just couldn't. Somehow, what was supposed to have been a simple conversation between 'friends' had left him feeling more insecure than ever. Why was she so difficult to talk to? And was she making it so difficult? If they'd been at All Skate, cleaning the rink after their shift, he'd have had no trouble talking to her - their conversations flowed like the Mississippi River when it was just the two of them. And yet here, he felt like he was trying to coax water out of a rusty garden tap in the peak of a summer drought. 

He couldn't find the words to piece together what he wanted to ask - he didn't think such a sentence existed, not one that he could construct anyway. Carrie seemed hellbent on getting rid of him, which did nothing for his creeping fear that she was only nice to him at work because she had no other option for company. And the damn heat radiating from Juliet's pitying smirk had so much sweat running down his back he contemplated running to the nearest bathroom to wring out his underwear. 

And somehow, those glittering, sky blue eyes of hers still threw him a line - a glimmer of hope to cling to. After all, she'd surprised him before - countless times - maybe she'd be able to do it again.

Just as Miles was moving to open his mouth to try one last time though, he was beaten to it. 

"Was there anything else you wanted? Or was that it?" 

Any hopes of a redemption for the blonde were snatched from Miles' grasp, and the reality of it felt like a punch to the gut. Thoroughly deflated, he accepted his fate with a heavy sigh. It may not have been the outcome he wanted, but at least he had an answer now, and there was a silver lining to that, he supposed. 

"...No," he breathed through a forlorn, but relieved smile. "That was…that was all."

Miles felt he must have imagined the concern that flickered in Carrie's gaze - wishful thinking, he supposed - because the airy giggle and laidback grin she flashed him certainly didn't marry up with it. "Oh, alright then. See you later!" she chirped with a wave as he started the walk of shame back to his desk. Again, just as he was turning back to offer a farewell of his own though, she managed to get her words in first. "Don't forget your thick socks."

Miles stopped in his tracks. Now he was more confused than ever. The cheeky glint in her eyes, the knowing smile, the reference to a throwaway joke from their closing shift last night… Everything he'd just come to terms with about her vehement disinterest in him had been called into question with those five, simple words, and a wink that just about made his heart stop.

…Maybe she did really care after all. 

With his heart leaping up from its dejected slumber, Miles shot her a grateful smile and chuckled an earnest, "I won't." Breathing out a contented sigh, mind already racing with ways to talk to her about this more that evening, Miles finally felt his shoulders relax as he raised the hand that had been rubbing the back of his neck his whole time. "See you la-"

Nevermind, she'd already turned around to talk to Juliet again. 

Again the brunet was flummoxed. The only thing he felt truly confident about as he slunk back to his desk was the very thing he'd been warned of before wading into that mess: the female mind was a mystery. And he had never felt further from figuring it out.

Turning back to Juliet, Carrie couldn't help but shake her head and chuckle under her breath. "That was weird," she noted, tilting her head in the direction of her retreating co-worker.

But Juliet's eyes had never left the bumbling brunet. "Mmm… He's kind of cute," she mused. Although her prompting smirk was lost on her tutee, since her sapphire gaze was immediately pulled to the back of Miles' head.  

"Yeah." Carrie's breathed response fell from her lips with startling ease, so much so that it even surprised herself. Hoping to catch it before it slipped into Juliet's ears though, she shook the starry-eyed gaze from her head and scrambled together a cover-up. "Uh, yeah? I can try to set the two of you up if you want. You know, put in a good word at work and stuff." 

If she expected Juliet to accept her optimistic offer with open arms though, she was soon proved wrong.

"Yeah something tells me he's not interested in me," she snorted.

Carrie looked at her, perplexed. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't he be? You're like a total babe."

"Oh come on, Carrie. Please tell me you know that he's got a major crush on you," Juliet said with an almost disapproving frown. "Like major major."

Carrie scoffed at the accusation. "It's not major," she tried, rolling her eyes in a further attempt to downplay the gravity of what Juliet was implying. 

"Carrie," Juliet pressed as she knitted her brows. "The guy could barely speak."

Caving under the blonde's hardened gaze, Carrie let out a resentful huff. "Ok fine, so he's got a little crush," she finally conceded. "What's so bad about that? It's not like anything's gonna happen; he knows I've got a boyfriend."

"Mhm… And what does Eric have to say about Miles?"

Carrie rolled her eyes so hard Juliet thought for a second that they might never come back down again. "Why does it matter?" she groaned, her skin prickling with irritation. 

"Well he's not exactly got the best track record when it comes to being understanding about you hanging out with other guys," Juliet sighed, with a sneaking suspicion that her tutee's frustration had been triggered by the mention of her boyfriend's name alone: a welcome sign that their relationship was as healthy as ever. Not.

Carrie scoffed as a bitter scowl settled into place. "It's not like I'm 'hanging out with him', we just work together. I barely talk to him during my shift anyway, only when we're clearing stuff up at the end."

"Oh yeah?" Juliet started, curiosity piqued. "And what happens then?"

"Nothing!" Carrie insisted. "We just talk - you know me, I can't keep my mouth shut even when I want to, so of course I'm gonna talk to the guy." Letting out a sigh to try to blow off some steam, she softened under Juliet's gaze and allowed the blonde to lead her through her haze of thoughts. And if Juliet's gentle nudge in the right direction wasn't already enough to do the trick, one glance at Miles' retreating form completely burst the dam. "We've been talking for like the whole last hour of every shift since I started - about school, movies, whatever really - it's like the only thing in that dump that's worth sticking around for. I kind of just did it because I was bored out of my mind at the start, but turns out he's actually really fun, and sweet too - you wouldn't believe some of the stuff he does for his little brothers, Julie; I've literally gone and cried in the break room before after he was telling me about it. It's that cute." 

"You cry at everything," Juliet countered with a fond, teasing chuckle. 

"Oh come on, not everything," Carrie retorted. Naively hoping that their conversation on the matter had ended there, she let her eyes settle on Juliet's again, only for them to inch open the floodgates once more with a simple bat of her lashes and a tilt of her head. "We just talk and…goof around," she tentatively began - defensive, despite her nonchalance. "You know, make each other laugh about weird things customers have said, or stupid things we did. It's not like we're fooling around or anything. And before you say it, because I know that face: no, I am not leading him on. It's all totally platonic, I swear."

"Ok…" Juliet softly trailed off, taking a moment to choose her words before raising her next point. "Does Miles know it's all 'totally platonic'?"

Carrie let out a groan of despair, as she always did when her best friend lovingly lectured her. "I don't know, Jules. I'm not a mindreader. He's not grabbed my ass or spiked my water bottle, if that's what you're getting at," she grumbled, before promising, "I've got it all under control, I swear."

Somehow, Juliet didn't seem to be buying it; as impervious to Carrie's confident charm as ever. 

"So Eric's totally chill about this whole thing with Miles?" she tested, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow.  

"He knows I work with him…" Carrie mumbled.

Juliet nodded understandingly - almost too understandingly - in Carrie's periphery. 

"...And does he know how he makes you feel?"

Daring to challenge Juliet's calculated point with ignorant defiance, Carrie whirled around to meet the blonde's smug expression with a gasp of indignation, and an argument that fell away the second she realised that she didn't have a single word in her head to back it up with. Admitting defeat, she sighed and let her body slump, along with her hopes of her vindication in her best friend's hazel eyes. "Ok, yeah, fine. I know Miles has a crush on me," she confessed. Although the guilt laced into her words steadily morphed into hurt the more she tried to defend herself. "And yeah, I do lean into it sometimes because it makes me feel good about myself. Is that really so bad? Is it such a bad thing to want someone to be extra nice to you for once? Or to give you some positive attention?" 

"No, of course not," Juliet assured, assuming a fierce determination of her own. "I just think your boyfriend should be able to do all those things and more, and clearly he's not."

Carrie sighed, exhausted by the very thought of him. "This isn't about Eric."

Juliet sighed back, exasperated by her best friend's submissiveness, especially when she was usually so domineering. "How can you still want to defend him, Carrie?"

"Because, I love him, Julie," Carrie replied, finally finding the contented smile the thought of him should have immediately slapped on her face. "And because he's a good guy."

"Really? Because he's been nothing but a dick to you lately," Juliet flatly countered, hoping that with a little pushing her friend would see sense. 

"We've just had a couple of arguments, it's not a big deal," Carrie casually defended. "And they're all resolved now, so I don't know what you still have to complain about."

"Just because you had make-up sex does not mean that the problems were resolved," Juliet rolled her eyes before fixing the golden-haired girl with a more earnest look. "Did he actually apologise this time?"

"We talked it out first-"

"Did he apologise?"

Carrie squirmed under Juliet's gaze before muttering a reluctant, "No."

"Ugh," Juliet groaned, rolling her eyes again as she wound up to unleash a rant she'd been working up to for weeks. But, to her dismay, Carrie's defences beat her to it.

"Neither of us did, really. We just agreed to forget it and move on."

"How is that resolving anything?" Juliet asked with an annoyed frown that Carrie was starting to take personally. 

"Well I hadn't thought about it until now, so it must have at least kind of worked," she attempted to justify. 

But Juliet's nettled scoff told her that her stance on the matter wasn't budging. "You and Eric might as well speak two different languages; I've seen a pig and a fly communicate better than you two." 

The comment drew a giggle from Carrie's lips before she could stop it. "Don't try to distract me with your cute, Southern lingo," she said as the amused smile settled on her face and she affectionately bumped her friend's arm - the act bringing both their tempers back down to Earth. Before Juliet could launch into another lecture though, Carrie hoped to diffuse the situation once and for all. "Anyway, we worked it all out and everything's back to normal," she said. Although Juliet's questioning glance made her correct herself, "Better than normal. In fact, we're going to go look for Halloween costumes together this weekend," she finished with an optimistic grin. 

Now that was an improvement. For the first time since they'd sat down, Juliet found herself pleasantly surprised. "The Barbie and Ken costume's back on? I'm impressed. You two really must be getting along." Knowing how excited Carrie had been about the idea, she couldn't help but smile at the prospect of it finally coming into fruition. 

"Oh no, the Ken idea's long gone. I think he's going as a firefighter or something now."

Juliet's optimism shattered in a split second, and yet she stayed frozen in place, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "...You're kidding, right?"

"No, but I don't really mind. I'll just find something else to go as," Carrie sighed through a small, indifferent smile. If she'd spotted the disgust hidden in Juliet's eyes after her last revelation, she chose to ignore it. "It'll be fun getting to plan out my own costume anyway; I've got so many more options now. And plus, the Barbie one was only gonna be a pain in the ass to-"

"You're not even doing a couples one?" Juliet asked, far too concerned with what she was learning to care about hearing out Carrie's excuses. 

"He thinks couples costumes are lame," she explained with a huff. "Or at least that's what Adam told him anyway. He said he wanted to just do his own thing."

"But Carrie, you've been excited about doing a joint costume with him for like a whole year."

"So?" Carrie asked, with an eyebrow quirk of her own, shoving the accusation aside as though she was kicking an ice cube under the refrigerator. "It's just a dumb Halloween party, it doesn't matter what we wear; everyone will probably be too drunk to even pay attention anyway."

"Yeah, but it matters that he doesn't care about stuff that's important to you. He never has, and it's selfish, Carrie - super selfish…" Juliet trailed off with a frustrated sigh, praying that she might finally get the ditzy DJ to see sense. "You need to stop defending his shitty behaviour."

"And do what?" Carrie mumbled, unknowingly giving Juliet just what she wanted: a chance to unleash her anger with the infantile blond bozo and the mockery of a relationship he had roped her best friend into.

"Hold him accountable," she urged, hazel eyes blazing with passion. "Relationships should not have to revolve around making excuses and placating your partner with blow jobs - it's a fucking joke. I don't care about all the 'good times' you guys have, or all the memories you've made; the way you've been treating each other lately is appalling, and you deserve way better," she said, pausing to let Carrie absorb everything she'd just thrown at her before delivering the finishing blow. "And I know you know that too, because you're already looking for it in someone else."

Carrie's blood stilled in her veins. Sometimes it scared her how deeply Juliet understood her, and other times it felt comforting. This was not one of those times. 

She took in a slow, shuddering breath as Juliet's words seeped into her skin, carrying a deep sense of guilt with them. As much as she wanted to denounce Juliet's observations and stand by her own, joyously declaring her undying love for her boyfriend at the top of her lungs…her mouth made no attempt to move from its crestfallen frown. It couldn't, because she knew she was wrong. 

The despondency in the blonde's vacant, blue eyes soon drew Juliet down from her soap box though. This time she approached with a gentle, almost apologetic, smile as she entwined their fingers and began rubbing circles into the back of her tanned hand with the pad of her thumb. "I just want what's best for you, Car," she quietly promised. 

"I know," Carrie murmured, mustering a grateful smile as she squeezed her hand back, as though to say a 'thank you' her mouth wasn't quite ready to commit to yet. "I'm fine, Julie, I swear," she went on to profess. But when she started to get a sneaking suspicion that the statement wasn't all that convincing, she decided to switch up her tactic. "Now can we please get back to algebra?" 

The genuine laughter that tumbled from Juliet's lips was music to Carrie's ears. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say," Juliet chuckled as she picked up her pencil again. 

"I'll do anything to get us talking about something else," Carrie admitted with a woeful chuckle of her own. "And besides, I think I've got a better chance of wrapping my head around this than anything to do with my love life at the moment."

"Boyfriends suck, huh?" Juliet snorted with a knowing smirk.

"Try all boys suck," Carrie countered with a smirk of her own, at last feeling as though some of her signature confidence was leaching back into her frame. Although the pair's giggles took a few seconds to die back down, a mischievous glint remained in Carrie's eyes before she let them glaze over in thought. Mind idly wandering down untrodden paths, a wistful sigh escaped alongside a rogue proposal. "Wouldn't it make life so much easier if we could take them out of the equation altogether?"

Carrie was too lost in thought to notice, but the words that left her mouth forced an entire systems reboot in Juliet's brain. She had to do a double take, certain that she must have misheard her, or had at least missed the joking undertone. But no, the glassy, pensive blue irises held nothing but sincerity. And that confused Juliet more than ever. Her mind whirred with possible explanations for the brainless musings that definitely didn't sound as though they came from a girl in a committed, heterosexual relationship, but before she dared to question her on any, a tanned hand, the size of a frying pan, pulled her prospective interview subject right out of her seat. 

Carrie's eyes widened as she was whisked into a pair of cotton-clad arms the size of tree trunks, hardly able to catch her breath before it was being exchanged for someone else's. A faintly stubbled smile pressed into hers several times before she fully regained her bearings and was able to catch the frying pan hand from travelling too far south of her waist. "Eric," she giggled once she finally managed to inch their lips far enough apart to mumble a greeting against his skin. A subsequent flurry of kisses kept her from elaborating any further though. It was a wonder they didn't pass out from lack of air. 

"Hi, beautiful," he eventually greeted with a smitten grin. But their lips didn't stay apart for long as the dopey quarterback seemed hellbent on keeping his coated in his girlfriend's saliva. "You have a good study hall?" he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against hers. His roaming fingers shattered any hope of his interest in her life being genuine though.

Even if Carrie had wanted to answer Eric's question, his tongue was shoved so far down her throat she couldn't get her words out. "Eric," she finally gasped, jerking her head back from his with a breathy laugh as she felt his thumb start to lift the hem of her cheerleading skirt. "You're gonna get us both detention." 

"I can't help it," he chuckled, pulling her back towards him for another seemingly endless stream of kisses. "I missed you." And whilst a stupefied grin played at his constantly interlocking lips, something didn't feel quite right with Carrie. Her kisses were lazy, almost reluctant, and whilst her body normally felt like putty between his palms, today it felt…stiff. She seemed distracted. And because Eric's head was only ever swimming with thoughts of her, this worried him. "Hey," he gently prompted, nudging her chin with his knuckle to bring her gaze up to meet his. "Everything ok?"

Carrie's breath stuck in her throat, too scared of getting caught in the crossfire of two sets of brown eyes to dare to leave. Eric's sat beneath a pair of thick, furrowed brows, marred with insecure concern, and she could feel Juliet's boring holes into the back of her skull, begging her to remember everything they’d just spoken about. Tensions were high in her usually spacious brain - thoughts flying back and forth too quickly for her to make sense of as she tried to let her conscience guide her in the right direction. And although she felt herself inching towards a blonde ponytail-bolstered confession, her conscience's valiant efforts were all for naught. Carrie's fingers found purchase in the bristly blond hairs at the nape of Eric's neck, her cheeks were dusted in the scent of spearmint and the sweaty must from his football helmet. The profound warmth of his embrace seeped into her bones, and she curled up into it like a cat in the glow of fireplace embers - helpless to resist. "Everything's great," she promised, drawn in by the comfort of familiarity. "I just missed you too."

Disappointed, but not surprised by her best friend's decision, Juliet sighed as she tore her gaze away from the stomach-churning couple and began gathering together her and Carrie's things. She'd get through to her eventually, she had faith in the pit of her steadily grumbling gut. She just needed to be patient…or to find something that could drive a wedge between them once and for all.

"Ethan!" 

The pint-size pothead almost jumped out of his skin at the barked greeting, which actually felt more like an accusation than a 'hello'. He didn't know what was more offensive, the girl's tone or the fact that she'd interrupted his concert-for-one. 

"Jesus, Mick! You scared the shit outta me!" he cried. 

Rolling her eyes, Mick let go of the headphone speaker she'd had to pry away from Ethan's ear after he'd blatantly ignored her fifth call of his name, letting it thwack the side of his head. The look on his face as he recoiled in bewilderment did have a faint smile tugging at her lips though. But it soon disappeared when he slumped back in his seat and readied himself to tune her out again. 

Moving to stand in front of his desk, Mick didn't give him a chance. "Where's Miles?" 

"What?" Ethan squeaked.

"Where's Miles?" she reiterated, crossing her arms across her chest and nodding at the empty seat beside him.

"He's talking to Carrie," he revealed with a blasé wave of his hand in the vague direction of the pair.

Even with AC/DC blasting through his headphones, Ethan swore he heard Mick's face crack.

"He's doing what now?" she demanded, flames roaring in the mahogany logs that made up her irises. 

"He's just asking her something, it's no big deal," Ethan said - although his attempts to reassure the brunette were ham-handed at best given his lazy grin and total lack of concern. 

This was further backed up by Mick's growing urge to strangle him. "Can I not trust you to do anything?" she hissed. 

"What did I do?" Ethan squawked in indignation.

"Nothing - that's the problem! All you had to do was keep his mind off her-" 

"I don't know what fucking mind-control powers you think I've got, Mick, but that was a bogus plan in the first place."

"Oh so what? You just weren't gonna go along with it at all?" Mick scoffed. "I just said to try to keep him distracted."

"And I tried, so I don't know what you're getting all pissy at me for," Ethan retorted. "What's so wrong with him talking to her anyway? I thought 'working through your feelings' was supposed to be a good thing."

Scowling at him for using her own advice against her, she snapped, "Talking to her is not helping him distance himself from her." But when her eyes scanned the room for that familiar mop of coffee brown hair, the sight it settled on made her heart drop to her collegiate green Campuses. "And neither is a run-in with Eric Brennan."

Trailing back to his seat, muttering to himself about the mystifying female mindset and what the hell all of that could have meant, Miles soon realised he wasn't looking where he was going when he collided with what felt like a wall of meat. 

"Shit, sorry," he muttered.

When he looked up and saw who it was that had almost knocked him off his feet though, he realised his assumption hadn't been too far off.

"Woah, watch it, man," Eric guffawed.

The amused twinkle in his eye, and the smirk that blossomed as soon as his gaze landed on him, made Miles' stomach twist. Something told him that this interaction wasn't going to be nearly as quick as he'd hoped. 

"Miles, right?" Eric went on to ask, eyebrow cocked in recognition. 

"Uh, yeah," Miles stammered, although he was more confused than concerned at this point. 

"Why you in such a hurry, bud? You got somewhere to be?" he continued, a charming smirk still sitting proudly on his chiselled jaw. 

"I'm just going back to my seat."

"Oh yeah?" Eric probed, steadily turning up the pressure. "And why were you out of it?"

Miles immediately regretted the exasperated huff that fell from his lips, but he couldn't help his frustration. "Why does it matter?" 

To Miles' surprise, the jock didn't snap back at his remark - there was no sign of meat-headed defensiveness at all. Instead, the guy just laughed. "It doesn't," he reassured with a jovial smile. "I just thought I'd ask 'cause, you know, from here it kind of looked like you were going over there to talk to my girlfriend." 

Any relief that jovial smile had filled Miles with steadily leaked out as Eric's words sunk in. "I was just asking her about our work schedule," he explained with a careful, albeit tight smile of his own. 

"Yeah?" Eric tested.

"...Yeah," Miles confirmed. Although he could feel his bravery slowly shrinking under the hulking weight of Eric's arched eyebrow, he stood his ground, hoping that a nonchalant tone and a set of squared shoulders was enough to convince the dopey blond.

"Oh well, that's a relief," he said with another booming guffaw. Miles' wishes were seemingly granted as the warning smirk slipped from Eric's face, replaced with a laidback grin. "There I was thinking you might have been trying to make a move on her or something."

Miles managed to eke out a chuckle, more at his own expense than anything. "I wouldn't do that, man," he promised through a freshly starched smile. "I know you're both very happy together."

Eric's shit-eating grin must have been powered by at least three AAs with the way it lit up his face. "That we are, my man," he proudly proclaimed. "And that's good to hear 'cause I know you spend a lot of time with her at the end of your shifts, and she says you two get along super well, so I'd hate to think that you were getting the wrong idea or-"

"Not at all," Miles assured, cutting the blond off before he could drive the knife any further into his chest. Fixing a plastic smile to his face to cover up the wistful sigh that escaped between his teeth, he delivered an admittedly painful, "We're just friends."

Eric's rich brown eyes seemed to scan every inch of Miles for any sign of a lie before he proceeded, and the brunet's lack of acting skills left him squirming like a worm on a hook as a result. But the satisfied grin that soon surfaced, dropping the tensed shoulders to help it rise, told Miles the quarterback probably needed an eye test. 

"Good," Eric said with a contented sigh. "'Cause you and I both know that it'd be stupid to think anything else, right?" he went on to cockily taunt. "Like, no offence, but she'd have to be fucking insane to choose you over me… Right, Miles?" 

Although his ego was severely bruised, to save his face from meeting the same fate, Miles forced himself to maintain a smile, albeit reluctantly. "Right," he confirmed.

"That's what I thought," Eric smirked, finally satisfied that Miles had taken enough of an emotional pounding if his lazy grin and affectionate arm bump was anything to go by. "Alright, nice talk, bro. I might catch you tonight if I drop by to see her, ok?"

"I'll be there," Miles verified with a strained sigh. Finally daring to drop his gaze from the sturdy blond, he made his escape without so much as a goodbye.  

Apparently Eric thought he could take a little advice on the road with him though. 

"Remember, watch yourself, Murphy," he hollered.

But the words didn't even register with Miles, because the swift shove between his shoulder blades was so jarring his entire focus was dragged to keeping himself upright. 

Miles kept his eyes trained on the scuffed linoleum as he hastily lumbered back over to his desk, cheeks burning with self-hatred as he tried to push Eric’s no doubt smirking face out of his mind. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar voice that he finally dared to lift his head again. 

“Are you ok?” Mick asked, expression overrun with an almost frantic concern. “What was that about?”

“I’m fine,” Miles brushed off, retrieving his threadbare backpack from its spot, slumped on the floor in one swoop. Haphazardly shoving the books from his desk into the main compartment, he mumbled a quick, “Can we just go?” 

But Ethan’s glassy-eyed intrigue held him firmly in place. “Yo, what happened, man? Did he bust you for flirting with her?” 

“No,” Miles sighed, wearily shaking his head at the stoner’s excitement. 

“Did you flirt with her?” he pressed. 

"No, I just- ugh," Miles huffed, quickly giving up on trying to explain the situation he didn't even fully understand himself. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go."

"I told you to just forget about her," Mick sighed. 

"Yeah, well, that's a lot easier said than done, Mick," Miles retorted, returning her disapproving frown with a defensive one of his own. 

"Did you at least get some closure?" Ethan offered as he rose from his desk - partly from curiosity, partly to try to prove a point to Mick. 

Whilst Miles' tongue instinctively prepared to shoot Ethan's optimism down, his brain jumped in to tell it to hold fire. And after a few, brief seconds recalling the interaction, his answer soon changed. "Actually, I kind of did," he admitted with a chuckle of incredulity. 

"You gonna try to talk about it more with her tonight then?" Ethan asked, smirking to himself at Mick's look of disbelief. 

"Fuck no," Miles snorted with a nonchalance that took both of his friends by surprise. "I just want to forget it ever happened- just…move on."

"From her?" Mick asked, trying to hide the hopeful edge in her tone with a gentle smile.

Sparing the blonde in question one last glance over his shoulder, only to catch the tail end of her and Eric getting pulled up for their excessive PDA by their (up until now) entirely uninterested study hall supervisor, he let out a wistful sigh. A chorus of voices swelled in his head - Mick's, Ethan's, Carrie's, Eric's - each one telling a different side to the same story. He couldn't have picked one to listen to if he'd tried. So, in the end, his own took over, steering his heart down a path that promised the least damage in the long term, and that Carrie's indifferent dismissal of him had already forged in his mind. "...That's the goal."

#I know this part may seem a little boring because there's so much talking and so little 'doing' #but i promise that these conversations are all setting important foundations for stuff further down the line #you'll just have to trust me for now though #plus a lot of *interesting* dynamics are established in this part #*wink wink* #and get excited because in the next part we're heading back to All Skate #and the *real* action's finally going to start kicking off... #also I'm super sorry about being so inconsistent with my posts #finding time to write over the past few months with my crazy schedule and pretty poor mental health has been virtually impossible #but I really want to be better about that by the time I go back to uni in september #so hopefully I can find more time for myself and get some real progress made on this story and ASDO #anyway i've rambled too much #i'll let you go but I hope you enjoyed the chapter #and i hope it was a nice surprise after all the chaos you've been going through lately <3 #p.s. i know the order of things gets a bit weird at the end but I didn't know how else to write it without it sounding super choppy #basically eric bumps into miles before he goes over to greet her after class #his whole chat with miles is happening whilst carrie's having her little heart to heart with juliet #just thought i'd mention it because I wasn't sure how clear it was and my 2am brain is not a trustworthy resource