#but the explanation I gave was way more eloquent than anything I could normally give on the spot

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

if I had a nickel for every time I had a dream in which I explained how prion diseases work, I'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

#- HK #I don't even remember who I was explaining it to #but the explanation I gave was way more eloquent than anything I could normally give on the spot #apparently I have a latent yet urgent desire to get the word out about prion diseases #speaking of strange recurrences: today I was browsing the kids' section of the bookstore today #and there was a young couple with their little boy (3-4 y/o) #and I overhear the boy go 'mom who is the one who fights?' #and she was like 'in what? in The Princess Bride?' #'yeah which one fights?' #and she goes 'Inigo Montoya? Or Westley?' #which was wild for me bc last night I started an Inigo Montoya drawing for one of y'all #x

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

Cuddle Corner (Part 2)

A long time coming, literally ~5 years, the sequel to the original Cuddle Corner. This one was highly requested on ao3 and ff.net, but honestly? I wanted it just as bad.

This story is dedicated to @fruipit. One because your enthusiasm for the original was so energizing, and two, because I still owe you a larger fic but here I am on the one-year-anniversary of that to offer this one instead xD

Edit: for those who love to favorite and comment: ao3 and ff.net are now available!

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The background buzz of the mall’s food court droned around Anna and Kristoff as they dug into their meals. Work would come calling soon, but it was their lunch break, and the reuben’s they made here were well worth the drive, the parking nightmare, and the overpriced soft drink that came with it.

Kristoff watched Anna. While generally a reserved man, his quiet was different now, observant. After devouring half of his sandwich, the rest remained practically untouched, but Anna was too busy enjoying her food to notice. Too busy that is, until Kristoff cleared his throat.

“I think you should go back.”

Her sandwich stopped halfway to her mouth. "We are not talking about this." "Anna..." Kristoff leaned forward, posture set firm. Anna met his gaze with equal and opposite determination - and to her credit, she gave it her all. But it was like trying to bully a mountain by throwing pebbles, and eventually she closed her eyes, giving in with a measured inhale and exhale. "You know why I can't." "Yeah, so you've told me." "Then you'll have to forgive me for being short," Anna scowled. "I thought I'd made it clear that that could never be allowed to happen again." "So, what?” Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “You're just going to keep yourself on house arrest and never interact with another human being ever again?" Anna put her meal down. Based on the way her stomach was already tightening in knots, she wasn't getting back to it anyway. "Of course not, that's absurd." Kristoff spread his arms, awaiting an explanation. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I care about you, Anna." Kristoff's face softened. "I won't go so far as to say I know how you feel, because I know that I don't and never truly will. But I do know you. And you haven't been yourself since that appointment." Anna stared at the tabletop, arms close to center. "I know you don't want to talk about it," Kristoff continued, "but whatever happened–"

“Nothing happened!” Anna shouted, drawing concerned looks from the other patrons. The words cut like glass. Her throat felt raw, heart bleeding as it pumped jagged pieces through her chest. She drew her hands back even further when Kristoff offered his own from across the table. She couldn’t. Not now.

God, she hated crying.

A foot nudged hers gently. Anna blinked back the tears, remembering where she was and who she was talking to. This was Kristoff, and he knew her better than anyone.

“Anna, you’re hurting.” He tapped his foot on top of hers, doing it again when she remained silent. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but I can’t watch that big goofy heart of yours shrink in on itself any longer.”

He paused and Anna felt the sharp teeth of dread.

“Was it Elsa?”

Anna’s eyes widened. “No! No, Elsa was… Elsa was perfect.”

“You said it reminded you of before.”

“And I stand by that, sort of.” Another nudge and this time Anna tapped Kristoff’s foot back, bringing a smile to his brown eyes. She gave him one of her own, small and weak in comparison. “Elsa was completely professional. We established boundaries and she constantly checked in on me to make sure I was okay. She never did anything without my say-so and she cared about my well-being.” Anna’s expression soured. “Which is exactly where everything went wrong. We hugged, sat together, swapped stories. I felt like I’d known her my whole life! I was even brave enough to put my head in her lap. I got so caught up that I forgot why I can’t do that sort of thing anymore.”

Kristoff offered his hand again and she took it, grateful for his patience. “When that timer went off, everything came flooding back. Everything. Guilt and fear and crushed hope. I threw all of it in her face. Elsa, she... she didn’t deserve that.” Anna’s shoulders dropped with the admission, a weight slipping the ground. She glanced up at Kristoff and shrugged awkwardly. “You know the rest. I’ve avoided talking about it and spent all my free time at home, trying to get my shit together.” She inhaled shakily. “I really thought I was done with this.”

A soothing thumb brushed the back of her hand. She tentatively reached out with her sneaker, warmth softening the sharp edges in her chest when Kristoff bumped her back.

“I’m guessing that means you haven’t called her back, even though you have her card.” Kristoff leaned forward. “You… do still have it?”

Anna nodded. “Right where I left it, stuffed as far down into my jacket pocket as possible.”

“I think you should call her,” He said after a moment of thought.

“Kristoff.” Anna took back her hand, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “I know you’re just trying to help but how many times do I have to say that we, Elsa and I, cannot be a thing? Being ‘a thing’ means spending time together, spending time together means we’ll be affectionate, and being affectionate leads to… more. A-And I can’t give, more.”

“Which is why I’m not suggesting that in the least,” Kristoff replied, face set. “I’m merely saying you call her so she doesn’t think you hate her.”

Ouch. That hurt.

“You’re not the kind of person to wrong someone,” Kristoff continued, “let alone wrong someone and not apologize.” More gently he added, “I know you enjoyed spending time with her, anxiety aside. You’re not even going to give her the chance? Not even to be friends? Professional chums?”

“I don’t know, Kristoff,” Anna crossed her arms. “Are you friends with your therapist?”

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh.”

Kristoff grinned. “You were expecting me to say no, weren’t you?” Anna eyed the rest of her meal by way of answer. “I know she’s not your therapist, and trust me, I understand the urge to keep absolutely everything between you and Elsa professional. But sometimes in a space like that, where it’s just the two of you, you have to be honest too. Sometimes the best way for them to help you is to… well, let them help you.”

“Eloquent.”

“Just another way of saying I’m right, which I will take, thank you.” 

Anna snorted at his antics, smiling a little too. But in the silence that followed the chilling trace of fear wound it’s way under her skin, trailing beneath her bones. She pressed her fingertips to her sternum. Heart and mind said two different things, and it was too soon to decide whether the fleeting spark of hope Kristoff was inspiring would save or destroy her.

“Please,” Kristoff pleaded, “no more of this. However you need to frame it -- for her sake or yours -- make things right with Elsa.” -------------

Anna steeled herself, dial pad staring accusingly when she hesitated again before punching in the number on the card. Her hand shook as she put the phone to her ear. 

She begged for voicemail.

"Hello?” Dammit. “Elsa speaking."

“H-Hey Elsa," she cleared her throat, suddenly hoarse. "It's Anna."

"Anna!" Came the joyful cry, "Wow, Anna I'm... I'm really glad to hear from you." Anna didn't know what to say so she didn't respond. "What can I help you with?"

"I um, I know it’s been forever since we met but I was thinking…” She took a deep breath. She wanted this, didn’t she? “I, wanted to see you again.”

Immediately Anna knew she’d screwed up. “In what way?” Elsa’s voice was dangerously low, cautious in a way that nearly broke Anna’s soft heart. No, not afraid of me, please no.

“As in an appointment,” Anna rushed, backpedaling so fast she felt dizzy.

"Really?” Elsa sounded back to normal, even delightfully surprised. “I mean, of course. That’s why I gave you my number after all.” She laughed, high and breathy. “When would you like to come in?"

Anna hadn't even checked her calendar. Could she be any less prepared? "Um," Anna racked her brain, trying to find an open slot, "how about Saturday?"

"Saturday is good. I have a noon and a four o'clock, whichever works better for you."

"Four is better."

"Great! I'll see you then," Elsa exclaimed. There was a moment of quiet, then, "And hey, Anna?"

Anna swallowed. Elsa's voice had changed again, completely. It was painfully searching, even if Elsa tried to hide with brevity. "Yeah?"

"Thanks... for giving me a second chance."

Elsa hung up, leaving Anna to wonder how she would manage to survive the next three days.

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

The waiting room was all too familiar, despite the fact she hadn't been back in months. The music hadn't changed, the buddha statue was still fat and happy, and the reeds still looked fake. Or real. Or both.

A different receptionist checked her in, all smiles and good smells. Apricot, Anna realized as she found a seat. Easy, considering she was the only one here, but unfortunate, since all she really wanted to do was hide.

But Kristoff was right, this was going to be for the best. Elsa, though they'd only interacted for an hour, deserved much more than Anna’s surprisingly cold shoulder.

"Anna?" Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't heard the door open. She looked up and found a pair of eager blue eyes, tempered in a way they shouldn't be. Too cautious.

She'd been hurt.

Shit.

“I’m–. We… are ready to see you now.” Elsa waved her clipboard. “If you’ll just follow me.” 

Down the hall, past the same differently decorated rooms. Elsa’s open white button-down flared over black jeans as she walked, pale braided hair swinging back and forth delicately. It was nice, Anna thought, all these stark negatives against the baked clay hue of the walls and stained wood of the picture frames. Well, not negatives, Elsa could never be a negative, not like that. Anna was just appreciating the contrast–

She looked up when Elsa coughed. “We’re here,” she said for what must have been the second time. Anna immediately recognized it as the same room they’d been in when she was here last.

“Is this your room then?” she asked, moving inside.

Elsa shook her head. “We get a room assigned at random unless the client specifies. Technically you got the one two doors down but I thought since you knew this one and I didn’t want you to feel…” Her eyes changed, losing their confidence. “Unless you wanted another room, then–”

“Thank you,” Anna stopped her, touched by her concern. “This one is perfect.”

Elsa closed the door and handed over the clipboard. “So. Anna. Sign a few places and we can get started, same as last time.” She froze, searching Anna’s face. “Or not the same since, well…,” she trailed off.

They both looked at the door handle.

Anna swallowed, fighting the anxiety suddenly clogging up her throat. She realized that if this was going to work, she was the one who needed to set expectations too. Anna scribbled her name, then tucked the pen under her thumb and held out her other hand, palm up. “It won’t be the same,” she said with a confidence she was still finding. “It’ll be better.”

She saw Elsa hesitate, meeting Anna’s gaze instead. Her expression was schooled but Anna saw the cheer in her eyes. “That’s cheating,” she replied, humor lending warmth to her voice, “your time hasn’t started.”

“Then let’s start.”

Now Elsa smiled, unfiltered and without shadow.

Elsa set another timer on her phone, laying it down on the table. Caught up by the slowly ticking numbers on the screen, Anna nearly started when Elsa took the hand she’d offered before. Thankfully, Anna turned the reflex into a motion towards the bed. “Shall we?”

Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done to Anna Fields?” She chuckled, but let herself be led across the room.

“Ms. Fields has had a lot of time to think.” Anna settled herself on the side of bed, dropping her purse off her shoulder. “And she’s got some things to say.”

The mattress dipped on her right as Elsa settled next to her. Their hands were still connected. Anna took a deep breath, settling her nerves, “Starting with, ‘I’m sorry’.” Elsa made a humming noise and rubbed her thumb across Anna’s knuckles. “I’m sorry that I left things the way I did, I promise I’m not usually so… volatile. I know I didn’t explode on you or anything but, it must have felt like a switch got flipped. One second perfectly relaxed, the next…” In her mind Anna heard the timer again, felt the tightening pull of her muscles, saw the half remembered steps to the door. Her free hand clenched over her knee. “A-And I wouldn’t look at you, I couldn’t.” She felt Elsa’s eyes on her now, and the irony that Anna was struggling to meet her gaze, still, wasn’t lost on her.

When a few moments passed without either speaking, Elsa shifted, kicking her shoes off and pulling her legs up onto the bed. “I know you have more to say, and I want to hear it. But we are the Cuddle Corner after all. Can we try this?” Elsa moved behind her, then turned her back and sat cross-legged, facing the opposite wall. “I think you’ll like this one,” she said, speaking a little louder so her voice carried. “Just mirror what I’m doing, and rest your back against mine.”

Anna thought about it, but only for a moment before she reoriented herself and slowly eased against Elsa. Then she shifted, straightening her back and sitting up taller. Of course Elsa had good posture. At least, better than her own.

“Relax,” Elsa said calmly, though Anna heard the distinct upward lilt of humor buried in that one word. “And when you’re ready, place the back of your head on mine, too.”

Anna could feel every one of Elsa’s breaths, expanding lightly against her spine. It was distracting, but pleasantly so, soothing and gentle. Finally Anna tilted her head back, looking straight ahead.

“How are you doing?” Elsa asked.

Anna closed her eyes and breathed deep. Her awareness traveled from her head to her center, where things were still a little messy, but more calm than before, quieter. “Better,” she replied honestly.

“Good.” She felt Elsa raise her chin. “Try to keep looking forward. You’ll want to speak to the side or turn your head, to see my facial expressions. But,” she paused. Anna heard the smile step into her voice and she couldn’t help the one that grew to match, “part of this exercise is to trust what you feel and hear coming from the other person, without relying on what you see. Is that still okay?”

Anna straightened again. From the crown of her head to the tips of her toes, she felt a peace steal over her. Maybe it was something about the position, or maybe it was the rhythm of Elsa’s breath. She wrapped that feeling around her like a cloak, snug, overlapping her heart.

In answer, she continued where she left off.

“At the end of last session I… wasn’t myself. I shouldn’t have left like that. Shouldn’t have left you like that. You didn’t deserve it, especially because, well, it wasn’t your fault.” Anna shifted, attempting to look over her shoulder before remembering Elsa’s advice. “I want to make that very clear: you, Elsa? Did nothing wrong. In fact, you did everything right. You just, pah-,” Anna made a little outward motion with her hands, a small explosion, “made everything work, just for a moment.” Anna felt more than heard Elsa’s small giggle against her back and felt her ears get hot. “Yeah I’m, not always the best with words.”

“It’s more common than you think,” Elsa replied. Anna saw her move her hand out of the corner of her eye. “When you can’t see someone it’s normal to raise your voice and use your hands more, since you’re still trying to get your point across with less to work with.” There was that laugh again, hitching against her ribs. “Though I get the feeling you talk with your hands anyway.”

“My family knows not to keep glassware around me after dinner, yes,” Anna snorted. “And Kristoff stocks the break room with extra napkins, just for me.” She rolled her eyes. “Real charmer that one.”

“I think you mentioned this man, Kristoff, the last time you were here too,” Elsa said softly. “He must mean a lot to you.”

“Yeah!” Anna beamed. “He was the first friend I made at my job and now…,” she paused, considering, “well now I think he’s my best friend.” 

Elsa made a noise of curiosity, a little wordless question. “I would have thought he was your brother, the way you sound when you talk about him.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Anna sighed, leaning back into Elsa. “It’s probably because we hug and hold hands and he gives me piggy back rides across the parking lot just for the fun of it. I tried to give him one once and nearly broke my knee. I’m strong, but he’s a mountain man.” Anna laughed to herself. “Actually, people think we’re dating most of the time.”

“Oh?” Elsa sounded genuinely surprised, the sound bouncing high off the walls, “you’re not?”

“Nnnnnope!” Anna replied, popping the ‘p’. “I mean he’s sweet and all: attentive, caring, soft-hearted. Anyone would be lucky to have him. But I’ve never thought of him that way.”

Instantly Anna felt a flush creep up her neck, and she sat forward. “W-Well,” she stammered, “not like that like that, I mean. Sure he can be charming in a rough sort of way sometimes and it feels really nice to be held in his arms because he’s so much bigger than me and yes we buy each other gifts just because we know it’ll make the other person happy b-but… I…” she swallowed, staring at the bed spread past her legs. “N-Not like, the anything that comes after… all that.” Anna fussed with the hair behind her ear, self-conscious. “But I suppose if I had to pick a dude, he’d be really great.”

Anna thought she heard an, “Oh,” from Elsa again but she wasn't sure. She realized they weren’t touching anymore, and in the same heartbeat realized that she’d sort of, almost, accidentally come out to Elsa.

A pit opened in her stomach, enough that her heart dropped just a little, enough for anxiety to find a little home and buzz through her chest.

It was a soft ball, an underhand throw, of a coming out, easily brushed aside or misinterpreted. Elsa was professional, she probably wouldn’t even ask.

Anna really wanted her to ask. But she also really didn’t.

But mostly she just didn’t want Elsa to feel weird about her.

“Anna?”

Elsa was looking at her, over her own shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Anna blinked. “Am I--. Of course I’m okay. Oh, shit,” she scooched backwards until she felt Elsa’s waist again and leaned back, touching her head to Elsa’s. “I left the position, sorry.”

Elsa was quiet for a moment, and Anna swore she could feel Elsa’s thoughts winding themselves down her spine. But Elsa’s next words held only warmth. “It’s more about the exercise than anything else,” she said, and Anna could tell she was still speaking over her shoulder, directly to her. “You can leave it at any time, for any reason. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, promise,” Anna twisted to face Elsa. “I think I’m just really bad at… explaining… myself…”

Elsa’s eyes softened and for a moment Anna couldn’t see anything else. They were so close. She’d turned and now they were breathing the same air. Inches. Centimeters.

He used to call this kissing distance.

“Anna?”

“Yes?” Anna murmured. Every nerve in her body was aware of itself. Her skin prickled with their energy, thorned as a rose.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Ever,” Elsa stated firmly. She leaned back into Anna, the smallest upward turn on her lips. “I don’t need to understand to care.”

But Anna saw that she did understand. And better, that Elsa wasn’t afraid of her, or anything Anna brought with her.

And that was… a lot.

Anna closed her eyes, took a deep breath--

And flopped down against the plush mattress.

She heard Elsa laugh behind her hand as she opened her eyes. “Too much?” Elsa asked, humor making lines around her eyes.

“No, not too much, just,” Anna mulled her words over, “you make it sound so easy. You make this so easy,” Anna gestured with both hands to the space above her head broadly, encapsulating the room and everything in it, physical and immaterial. “I started out apologizing, and those thoughts were all tangled up in my head because I wanted to be sincere and make this time different and it is different, so different, and I guess now I’m just, really… really grateful.”

Elsa nodded as Anna finished. “There’s a part of me that wants to say, ‘Well, it’s my job after all’, but I really am glad that I’ve been able to help, Anna.” She laid herself down too, on her side, propping her head up on her hand. “And in case you’re the kind of person that needs to hear it: I forgive you, Anna, so you don’t need to apologize anymore.”

A great breath washed out of Anna. She stared up at the ceiling, arms outstretched. “Thank you.”

After a brief pause, Elsa replied, “I’d actually already forgiven you, before you got here.”

Anna sat up on her elbows. “What? Why? I hadn’t even said anything yet!”

“It was the fact that you called at all.”

“But--! That doesn’t…”

Elsa held up her hand and shook her head. “You’re overthinking it,” she said gently, “which is alright, since that’s what I pegged you for anyway.”

Anna went to reply but stopped herself, trapping the air in her cheek. Then, she said, “You know, it’s not terribly cuddly to insult your clients, Elsa.”

“Hmm, true,” Elsa acquiesced, though her tone begged to differ. “What I mean is, you struck me as a ‘Thinker’ is all, even on your first visit.”

“A ‘Thinker’?” Elsa nodded again. “Like the guy who sits on a rock all serious-like?”

“Not quite,” Elsa chuckled, “although at times I’m sure that makes for a good analogy. I can explain it for you, but we’re still on your time here.” Elsa sat up, cross-legged, similar to Anna’s first visit. “The last few times I’ve been making the suggestions to help you relax, but I saw you take initiative when you first got here, and I want you to feel like this is your space as well. Now, as much as you’re comfortable, what do you want me to do?”

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Anna gulped. It wasn’t that big of an ask, and it made sense. Boundaries, two sets. A middle ground of mutually agreed upon comfort and engagement. She could do this.

Elsa sat patiently, in no rush at all. Anna looked back up at the ceiling and pondered. Suddenly a phantom feeling stole over her. Another time, another place. Someone warm next to her. A starlit sky above, cold ground below.

“On my stomach,” Anna said out loud. She turned her head and saw Elsa’s bewildered expression. “Sometimes when Kristoff and I hang out we lay on each other, and we’ll put our heads on the other’s belly.” Anna felt her face heat up a little, knowing it sounded more intimate than it really was. At least, not that way, but people usually didn’t believe that. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I can think of another one.”

“Won’t I be too heavy?”

Anna blinked. “Huh?”

“Won’t it hurt?” Elsa rephrased. “Heads weigh more than people think, and stomachs are notoriously soft.”

A beat passed.

Then Anna laughed.

At first it was small, like the quick kind of chortle and dash of amusement from an inside joke, but it rapidly changed to loud, full from her chest laughter, curling her legs towards her ribs in an attempt to contain it. Elsa’s concern was so endearing, and it soothed parts of Anna that were still hidden in the dark, but it was also utterly silly, too.

And that made the last trace of Anna’s trepidation disappear like mist in the morning.

“Notorious is a strong word,” Anna managed past her giggles. “I’m not sure who told you that, but maybe that’s just about your head.” One of Elsa’s eyebrows raised to acknowledge the comment, but as smooth as she tried to pass herself off, Anna could see how her mouth twitched with her own tamped laughter.

“It’s not terribly cuddly to insult your local professional, Anna,” she mimicked, sending Anna back into hysterics.

“I’ll… be fine,” Anna wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye as she flattened out again. “Kristoff is literally twice your size, I think I’ll make it.”

“Okay well,” Elsa lowered herself down, resting the back of her head lightly on Anna’s side with barely any weight at all. “Like this?”

“Yeah except you’re going to put your neck out like that,” Anna teased. “I said it was okay, Elsa. Trust me this time.”

After a moment of hesitation Elsa moved further back until she was fully settled, her shoulders hitting Anna’s hip and lower ribs. She sighed, making a few more adjustments until Anna could tell she was comfortable too.

They breathed in silence for a while, listening to each other. Anna realized she hadn’t eaten in a while and worried, briefly, that her body might make that fact known, but she supposed it wasn’t anything Elsa hadn’t heard before.

“So what were you saying earlier?” Anna re-broached the subject. “About how I… think things too much?”

“It’s not always the amount that you’re thinking,” Elsa chuckled. Anna felt the sound reverberate across her stomach and chest, warm and light. Elsa talked upwards, her head rising and falling in time with Anna’s breathing. “People process things in a lot of different ways, but many find that conceptualizing two categories - Thinking and Feeling - helps them more easily navigate those styles. Some people analyze and scrutinize and run over scenarios from as many angles as they can, and sometimes they do that to an excessive amount, which can cause more anxiety than it reduces. And some people,” she reached out and patted the bedspread. It was probably just to indicate that she was speaking about Anna, like the back to back exercise where they couldn’t see each other, but for some reason Anna reached out too, and put her hand beneath Elsa’s. She heard Elsa smile as she continued explaining, curling their fingers together. “Some people just have emotions that drift and bounce and trace around their body all the time. They’ll sit with a feeling until they’ve experienced all that it can give. Maybe they experience joy that floats them for hours, but they also feel sadness that sinks them into a sea of their own making.” Elsa turned her face towards Anna. “I’m fairly certain you’re the first one.”

“Huh.” Anna thought for a moment, feeling Elsa’s weight with every inhale. “So you’re a Feeler then?”

A smile tugged at Elsa’s lips. “How did you know?”

Anna shrugged. “I didn’t really, I just guessed.” She looked back up, rubbing the back of Elsa’s hand idly with the pad of her thumb. “Although, now that I think about it, you’ve always been thought-ful. Always checking in on me, asking me good questions --those always felt more experienced than logical though, if that makes sense. But the reasoning behind them seems more intuitive, like you just… know.” Anna paused, struck by something. “Actually, I didn’t have the word for it then, but I think I noticed it back when I called you.”

“To… schedule this appointment?” Elsa asked, sounding a little mystified.

“Yeah. It was in the way your voice changed when--,” and now Anna stopped because she felt embarrassment crawling up the nape of her neck. “When I said I wanted to see you again.”

“Oh.” Elsa turned her head to look at Anna. She had the smallest grimace on her face. “Sorry, that was pretty unprofessional of me.”

“On the contrary, I think checking to make sure your clients aren’t developing that kind of attachment to you is probably the most professional thing to do.”

“Well the paperwork helps,” Elsa hummed, “but you’re not wrong. Thankfully I haven’t encountered that problem yet, but I know some co-workers have.”

“It makes sense. I mean, this is the kind of thing most people imagine couples doing.”

Elsa shrugged. “Not everywhere. There are places where this is normal for family and friends, where physical affection isn’t locked behind the potential marital status of the individuals. And frankly, it’s normal here too, but not everyone experiences intimacy the same way.”

Intimacy.

The word clings to Anna’s throat, even though she hadn’t said it. A tightness, a dark line from neck to stomach, pooling invisibly around light Elsa’s hair.

“That’s good!” Anna blustered. “For them I mean, the people who get it. Wait no, not that the people who don’t feel that way are like-- What I mean to say is that that’s good! That people do that, somewhere: here, there, anywhere. I didn’t mean to say that people who don’t are doing bad, just, like, ‘Hey, good for them!’, you know?” She smacked her free hand over her eyes with a groan. “Grammar and statement of purpose have abandoned me. Feel free to tell me to stop talking whenever.” She felt Elsa’s laughter in the bunching of her shoulders against her stomach.

“Thinker,” Elsa chastised warmly.

And then it just became… chatter.

Catching up, laughing at anecdotes, learning about the other. Elsa asked about Anna’s job and Anna responded that she was training some promising new hires who were positively electric about their fields. Anna asked Elsa about her day job, making a mental note to check out a charity event a few blocks from her work. The first appointment seemed like a lifetime ago, and now that the air was clear and they’d settled, a lifetime seemed like just the thing to fill up the room.

Until Elsa scrunched her eyes up and said, “Okay, I think we’ve got to change positions, I’m getting a little dizzy.”

“I get it,” Anna empathized, “it’s the ups and downs. It gets a little disorienting”

“Yeah.” Elsa sat up and blinked hard a few times, her hand splayed out wide on the bed to keep balance. They’d kept them mostly entwined over the last part of their session, but Anna couldn’t help talking with her hands and it turned out that, at times, neither could Elsa.

Anna stretched, feeling like a cat in a sunbeam. She was as comfy as she was last time with her head in Elsa’s lap, but this time she knew the timer couldn’t surprise her. That enough words had passed between them for old wounds to not rear their heads. And while she didn’t anticipate it, for that would mean the end of her time with Elsa (for now), she did acknowledge it’s reality, and she was not afraid.

But she was damn cozy though.

“You look like you could fall asleep right there,” she heard Elsa say above her head. Anna opened her eyes to mirthful blue.

“I think you’re right,” Anna agreed, blocking a yawn with her hand.

“You’re welcome to take a nap. It’s--”

“--More common than you’d think,” Anna recited at the same time, making Elsa hide a smile behind her hand. There was a lot that Anna had learned in her short time here, but mostly that her knowledge of what people did when they felt safe and comforted was different than she’d expected. But it was a good kind of wrong to be, the eye-opening kind. The kind that made your heart feel a little bigger and softer. “You say that a lot.”

“Well it’s true!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Anna held up her hands, placating. “I’m just saying, it’s like your catchphrase.” Anna swept her outstretched arm in an arc, wiggling her fingers, “‘The more you know!’, with Elsa, the Cuddle Expert.”

Elsa bumped her arm. “You’re a tease. But I mean it, you’ve got time. Even if you don’t fall asleep, laying back and relaxing is part of cuddling you know.”

Anna stifled another yawn and turned onto her side. “I’ll at least sleep on top of the covers,” she replied, her voice dropping as she closed her eyes. “That way you don’t have to wash all the sheets.”

“Well they get washed anytime they’re used, and there’s spares in the hall closets but…,” she heard Elsa snicker, “you really think of everything, don’t you?”

“I think that joke has already run its course,” Anna smiled, then patted the open space in front of her invitingly. “C’mon, you might as well get a break too--.”

The bed dipped behind her.

“Well I can at least keep you warm this way; it’s kind of a classic cuddling position.”

The words were joking and light, Elsa’s voice so close to her ear, practically glowing.

“I don’t know who designed these rooms,” the voice continued, “but they let the air blow right above us. It gets incredibly chilly sometimes, and that’s coming from me of all people!” Forearms braced themselves against her spine, legs pressed against the back of her own, and soft exhales tickled the baby hairs at the nape of Anna’s neck.

And suddenly Anna was not at Cuddle Corner.

Her vision tunneled. The opposite wall retreated, backing itself down a long, dark corridor. Her peripherals feathered, the thorned, hyper-awareness from before screeching back, focused on the blazing points of contact between them.

Anna?

Her back was a ramrod, a live wire. When she breathed the air had nowhere to go, her lungs shallow and tight.

Breath on her neck and hands on her shoulders.

“Anna?”

Elsa’s voice.

Anna gasped, air traveling deeper, chest expanding, and the room returned to normal. Anna licked her lips, nerves settling under her skin, buzzing inside her ribs to join the dark feathers still flitting and hovering there.

“Maybe we should switch.” The words were strained but Anna tried to make them sound casual. To make them sound less like they hurt and more like before, just moments before when everything was perfect.

“...Are you sure?” Elsa replied over Anna’s shoulder. She’d moved away, touch gone, leaving phantom prints behind. Anna hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay…”

The bed moved again. A moment later Elsa lowered herself down in front of Anna, facing away. Her braid was pulled over her shoulder, out of reach, exposing the light skin of her neck. Unable to see Elsa’s expression, Anna swallowed the dark, heavy thing inside her throat and attempted to gauge Elsa’s mood through posture alone.

“You can come close,” Elsa said. A simple and straightforward invitation, but Anna thought she heard an edge creep into it, like something was slicing each letter off at the joint.

“R-Right. ‘Cuddle Corner’,” Anna said with feigned cheer, a little fain-fair. She laughed. Elsa laughed.

It was weird.

Slowly, uncertainty running under her palm, Anna reached her arm across Elsa’s chest. Her legs came up under Elsa’s until their bodies were nearly flush. She could smell Elsa’s shampoo, and felt her breathing against the crook of her elbow.

And she could tell immediately that Elsa wasn’t comfortable either.

There was a weight in the room, a miasma escaping the seams between their bodies. It scraped between Anna’s fingers, threatening to lift her hand up entirely, and take it away.  Her eyes unfocused, the lines of Elsa’s body becoming blurred, trembling the way heat makes the air waver and shake.

Elsa turned her head, so Anna could see the barest corner of her eye. “You’re pushing yourself,” she said quietly.

Anna tightened her grip, a wordless promise, but stopped when Elsa flinched. “I’m not.”

I’m not, she told herself. Elsa is a good person. People do this all the time, even friends! This position, spooning… it’s about comfort, not anything else. Just… stop being all up in your head about this.

But Anna could sense herself backpedaling, falling backwards into herself. Right in front of her was the shell of Elsa's ear, the slope of her neck, the curl of her white-blonde hair before it twisted into her braid -- and it made Anna wonder...

Was this... it? Was this what made people fall? A quiet moment, a scrap of skin. Was this enough to make them... feel?

Had it made him feel something, looking at Anna like this?

Warm fingers thread through hers, a bobber dropped into the well of her thoughts. Elsa's hand didn’t hold the sting of fear, and like sunlight on murky water a balm spread at her touch, expanding with each even breath.

But this time, it wasn’t enough.

Anna's thoughts rushed around her head, swirling, clinging, flying like beads snapped away from a string cut under stress. No longer sentences but fragments, worries and doubts in a whirlpool, sucking her down. What hadn't she done? What else could she do? How could she be so cold? Why couldn't she do this, for him? For anyone?

Why wasn't she enough?

The trembling started in her shoulders. She couldn’t stop it anymore than she could stop time. Her arm shook and by the time it reached her wrist Anna silently begged Elsa not to notice.

But of course she did.

Elsa turned in their embrace, her eyes widening for just a moment before she cupped Anna’s face, lightly, so light with her first touches, before brushing away a tear.

Anna hadn’t even realized she was crying.

“It’s okay Anna, you’re safe here.”

Anna hiccuped, her chest stuttering as more tears splashed against Elsa’s thumbs. She found Elsa’s forearms and held her tight, needing something beneath her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely.

Elsa shook her head. “Don’t be. You’ve apologized more than you’ve ever needed.”

Then Elsa’s forehead is nestled against Anna’s own. Anna doesn’t know how to react as Elsa’s eyes slip closed and she breathes slowly, carefully, like she’s counting the second. Anna feels herself matching the time, even as the sobs she harbored keep trying to find a way out. They get smaller, a boulder, then a rock, then a pebble in her lungs. Elsa’s soft exhales washed over Anna’s face, her very presence a well of tranquility, like immersing one’s hand in the cool waters of a brook. Elsa felt like flowing water, a place Anna could lay down the things that dragged her down, setting them adrift, letting the current carry them for a while.

Anna didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Long enough for the tears to start to dry, and the rawness of her throat to begin healing. But it couldn’t last forever.

Again the patter of rain, the rumble of thunder, and the distant, muted buzz of Elsa’s phone vibrating across the room. Anna exhaled a shuddering breath.

“The timer,” she croaked, voice like sludge, addled by tears.

“Ignore it,” Elsa murmured, pressing her face closer.

“B-But it’s over--”

“It’s okay.”

Anna attempted to shake her head, but Elsa merely brushed her cheeks with her thumbs. “You have another client. Another appointment.”

“I don’t.”

“Elsa…”

“Anna.” Elsa opened her eyes.

This close, Anna couldn’t mistake what she saw. Even if she didn’t have a name for it. And maybe there wasn’t a name to call the emotion heavy in Elsa’s eyes -- the eyes of a still-stranger, an almost-friend -- but whatever it was settled the last prickling nerve in Anna’s heart, soothed the last lash in Anna’s memory, and finally let her breathe long enough to listen. “I don’t have another appointment, you were my last for the day. An extra minute isn’t going to hurt anyone.” Elsa watched Anna’s face as she combed stray hairs back behind Anna’s ear. “I don’t want you leaving this place thinking you have to shoulder everything you came in with. It’s okay to leave some of it here, here with me, if that helps.” She smiled, her eyes wet. “It’s my job to make you feel comfortable, relaxed. But I also want you to feel that way, as Elsa, as me. I think you have a lot going on, and I want to help with that if… if you’ll let me.”

This time Anna closed her eyes, overwhelmed again. Unconsciously she leaned more into Elsa’s touch, which was enough for Elsa to continue. “You don’t have to decide today. Just know that I’m here for you, if you need me. But for now just,” and she shrugged, the motion taking Anna’s head with her, causing them both to laugh, “leave the timer be. It’ll take care of itself.”

They stayed like that. The timer silenced itself, and with the quiet came rest. Anna knew she didn’t fall asleep, but she thought she might when Elsa started playing with her hair again. Eventually, Anna knew she had to go and rolled over, sliding her shoes back on her feet. She heard Elsa do the same as Anna gathered her things.

“Should I expect another call?” Anna turned, shouldering her bag. Elsa sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, expectant.

Though she knew her cheeks were already blotchy from tears, Anna felt another emotion color her face, and instead of feathers in her chest there were butterflies in her stomach.

"Yeah," she returned, putting a hand on the back of her neck. "But I think I'm going to have to do some thinking first, again. Which I'm sure you already expected."

"Maybe a little." Elsa tilted her head, never losing her warmth. "But take all the time you need. And talk to others, too. Kristoff seems like a good place to start, if you haven't already."

Anna snorted, feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. "Oh don't worry, I'm sure he's left three voicemails by now wondering how this all went."

"And how did it go?”

Anna beamed. “Better.”

“Such glowing praise,” Elsa teased. “I’ll take it I suppose.”

Anna took a step back, towards the door, then hesitated, and turned back.

"More to say?" Elsa asked.

"Um..." Anna paused, then blushed again. "Actually, I did, but now I can't really find the words. It was ‘thank you’, again, but then there was other stuff and it got a little lost."

Elsa hummed at that, propping her chin up in her hand. "Knowing you, even for a short time, I'm sure they'll work themselves out eventually. Probably with hand motions."

Anna laughed and agreed. "Probably with hand motions. And maybe sound effects."

“You'll have to tell me,” Elsa smiled lightly, showing bright in her eyes. “Next time?”

Anna smiled back. “Next time.”

#please let me edit my tags you pos website >xD #OH I CAN DO IT ON MOBILE BUT NOT DESKTOP 🤣🤣🤣 I hate >xD #[clears throat] .....anyway #Cuddle Corner (Part 2) #my writing #fruipit #Anna #Elsa #not that I’m not confident but fingers crossed that you (and y’all) like it #Client!Anna #Cuddler!Elsa #wow these tags are literally 5 years old WOW #but I’ll add these too: #ace!Anna #asexual!Anna #I’m going to eat now though bc I’m STARVING I skipped dinner to finish this and get it posted #laser focus - but now I hUNGER #time to go eat my fridge

[maryb121813]

Not the only one

Chapter 3

The next day, Ellie's standing outside the student counsel room, clad in her RAD uniform, waiting for Diavolo to summon her.

It doesn't even feel like she left, other demon students that knew her before she left, waved at her, others that joined after her departure, gave her hungry glances till someone smacked them, telling them she's off limits or dare the wrath of the demon brothers and Lord Diavolo himself.

She smiled to herself; RAD life has changed a little since she left. There were now four angels and four human exchange students, seven of them live in Purgatory Hall and one human lives in her former home, hopefully not in her room.

While she was lost in her mind, Barbatos stood next to her just watching her before he made her aware of his presence. He cleared his throat, causing her to jump a little.

"Oh my god Barbatos, you scared me." she said placing her hand on her chest above her heart.

"I'm terribly sorry, Ellie, but my lord has requested your presence but you'll stand in the entry way shadow till he announces you as Lucifer's assistant." he eloquently explained.

She gave a quick nod and followed him down the dark hallway. Her heart was racing at the thought of seeing the guys again especially Mammon. She had so many questions and will get him to spill on why he ghosted her.

Barbatos pulled up his hand, indicting her to stop where she was as he continued inside the room. She could hear Lucifer's deep voice resonate through the room as he scolded one of his brothers.

A shuffling of feet echoed down the hallway followed by Lucifer's voice again. "Mammon where the hell are you going? We're not done here!" Then a door slams.

Ellie was disappointed that she wasn't going to see him but she still had the others to see.

A loud clap made her shake the disappointment from her face and stood a little taller as Diavolo started to speak.

"Don't worry about it Lucifer, you can scold him later."

"More like hung him from the ceiling upside down for the millionth time." giggled Asmo.

"Now on to the final piece of business for the day," Diavolo said with some seriousness. "Lucifer, I know you've been bogged down by work and your brother's shenanigans, so I brought on an assistant to help you for a while."

"Lord Diavolo, you didn't need to do that. I'm perfectly capable of handling my work and my brothers." he stubbornly expressed.

"Sir Lucifer, my Lord has graciously acquired you someone to ease your burden till things settled down. Is it really hard to accept help?" said Barbatos.

"I can't trust anyone with my work, Barbatos." Lucifer deflected.

"Great! I got you someone who you can trust." Diavolo merrily stated. "Barbatos, bring them in."

"Yes, my lord."

Suddenly Barbatos is stand in the doorway looking Ellie with a small smile and waved her in. She took a deep breath and walked through the door. Chairs scrapped against the stone floor and before she could react, Asmo and Belphie almost knock her over in tight embraces, followed by Beel and Levi with a stunned Satan not far behind.

Ellie's eyes started to get hot as tears started to form. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, hoping to keep the tears at bay.

This! This is what I was missing the most. She thought to herself. She may have had family in the human realm but being with these demons felt more like home than her home itself.

It felt like they were hugging her for hours and she was starting to get hot, "Hey guys, all this body heat is making me all hot and sweaty. Can you guys ease up a bit?" she asked while tapping on whichever brother were close to her hands.

The guys reluctantly let her go, each one grumbling that it was long enough.

"Did you just arrive today, Ellie?" asked Satan.

"No, she arrived last night." Asmo cheerfully said.

"WHAT!?!?" shouted Lucifer.

Ellie looked over at Lucifer and Diavolo, who were still sitting in their seats. It seemed like smoke was coming out of Lucifer's ears while he was staring daggers at Diavolo.

"She was brought in last night?" He looked over at his brothers "Who else, in this room, knew she was here besides Asmo?"

Beel and Belphie turned their heads away to look at anything other than Lucifer. Levi's face turned a bright shade of red as he tried to cover his face with his hands and failing miserably. Barbatos held up his hand with a grin.

Ellie could almost see fire burning bright in his eyes as he got angrier. He stood from his seat and when up to Diavolo. He put up his hands like he wanted to strangle the demon lord but he couldn't, so he silently shook his hands and turned away.

He let out a sigh and pinched the bridge with his black gloved hand while closing his eyes, "How did you sneak her in and out, past all of us, at the house?" he asked.

"Oh, I didn't." said Diavolo.

Lucifer's eyes pooped open, "What do you mean? She didn't sleep in her room at the House of Lamentation?"

"No. She slept in one of my rooms in the castle." he smiled.

Everyone can see Lucifer's eye twitch as he grew more annoyed at Divolo's answers. "Then she'll be sleeping at the house tonight." he declared.

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen, Lucifer. She'll be staying with me during her stay. You already have an exchange student staying with you. You guys are more than welcomed to visit her at the castle." Diavolo formally declared.

Lucifer knew he couldn't go against Diavolo's orders. His eye's shifted to his brothers and Ellie, "You are dismissed. Lord Diavolo I would like to discuss matters more in private, if you will."

"No need to tell us twice," said Levi.

Beel lifted Ellie up, princess style, and walked out of the room with the others speed walking behind them. Once they make it outside, to the courtyard, Beel sets her back down on her feet and pulls her into a tight hug. She had to turn her head to the side so as to not be suffocated by Beel’s muscular chest.

“I missed you, Ellie.” he gave her a light squeeze.

Ellie smiled against him and tried to wrap her arms around him, “I missed you too, Beel.”

“Hey, Beel share Ellie. Some of us didn’t get a proper hug from her,” pouted Asmo.

Beel slowly let her go, Asmo then wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, once Beel had stepped away from her.

“Oh, Ellie love, how I missed our daily skin care routines and spa days.” He released her and turned her around to examine her face, “Well look at you, your skin is still pristine, next to me of course.” He giggled

That made her laugh, “Well I didn’t want to let you down and go back to doing nothing.”

“That’s my girl! Now we have to plan a spa day. Oh, oh maybe even a day at the salon too!” Asmo went on and on his in own little world of beauty talk.

She felt a light tap on her shoulder, turning her head, she spots Levi standing behind her. He gave her a shy smile as his cheeks started taking on a pink hue.

“I know I shouldn’t expect anything, especially being a shut-in but I was hoping to-”

She cut him off by giving him a hug. She felt his body shiver as pure bliss flooded his system. “I missed you too, Levi.”

He didn’t get the chance to hug her back as she was pulled away from him and now stood face to face with Belphie. His sleep laden eyes showed love and affection for her. He quickly pulled her into a tight hug, “Now we’re complete again, Ellie.”

Her heart squeezed at his words. She did feel complete again and it took her going back to the human realm to realize it.

“Oi, I still need an explanation on how you guys knew she was coming and I didn’t.” growled Satan.

Belphie let her go, reluctantly. She turned her attention to Satan and gave him her best smile.

“I was going to tell you and these guys didn’t know until last night when I was given word that I was returning. But Barbatos had other plans and decided that we all needed to be surprised on my arrival.”

Her clarification must’ve made him feel better because he rushed to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I thought you left me out of everything.” he whispered.

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, “Never. I’ll always tell you everything.”

He let out a sigh of relief and gave her another squeeze.

“C’mon guys, Hell’s Kitchen’s having a special on hellfire magma cobra steak with Vjedogonia Bile Soup.” said a hungry Beel.

Ellie almost wanted to laugh but this was normal again. “Okay Beel, as long as we can stop at Madam Scream’s. I’ve been craving Hell Cream Cat Tongue Cookies.”

“Deal!”

“I’ll get them for you since you don’t have any Devildom currency on you, right?” asked Satan.

Ellie did a facepalm since she forgot that when she left, she gave her money to Lucifer since she had no use for it in the human realm, “Thank you Satan, I would appreciate that.”

Asmo chimed in, “I want to buy Ellie something too! Let’s stop at Majolish so I can pick out an outfit for her.”

As they walked through town, each one of the boys said they wanted to get her something, but all she wanted right now, was to see the demon of greed.

Just as she was thinking of him, he walked out of Majolish, his one hand heavy with shopping bags. Her heart leapt in her chest and she started to run to him when a very feminine man walked out of the same store and grabbed his hand and planted a kiss on his lips.

To be continued.

#swd obey me #swd mammon #cheating

[erischaos]

the beginning

summary: on your anniversary, you remember how you met Johnny.

words: +1,9k

tags: fluffy

It all started a few years ago, in 2017, when you were doing a part-time job in the SBS radio as the script writer and semi-producer for a new show that was going to take place in march. The only thing that they told you about it was that it was going to be host by two newly debuted idols from a very famous company, a new that made you very excited. A few weeks later a meeting with both of them took place but you had a final exam at uni and you couldn´t attend, which made you a lot more nervous since you still didn’t knew who the idols were, because that information was confidential. The first show came sooner than expected, and as a part of the team you were finally going to met the idols. While you were waiting for them to arrive one of your girl coworkers came to you.

“y/n you can’t imagine how handsome they are” she said, almost screaming “you’re going to die when you see them” you laughed but since you were a little picky you choosed to not take her words too serious. But, oh lord, how wrong you were.

Two tall men came through the door, a blond and a brunette one. You weren’t stupid and you didn’t lived under a rock, but you were distracted enough to not notice the name of the show, which gave away completely the name of the group. A very young Jaehyun and Johnny stood in front of you and introduced themselves to the team.  Jaehyun was pretty, he was a very beautiful man, his kind eyes and his dimples were to die for, but Johnny, he was a different story. He wasn’t just pretty, his particular features left you breathless at first sight, and his aura was captivating and it made your knees weak. You felt embarrassed, he was an idol yes, but first of all he was your new coworker, and you weren’t a teenager anymore.

After all of the formalities the tallest, Johnny, came to you and started to ask a lot of technical stuff and you did your best to explain but damn, you were blown away. His eyes were a beautiful shade of honey and he never cut the visual contact which made you a lot more nervous and flustered. His voice was deep and assertive, it really looked like he knew what he was talking about, it even seemed like he knew more than you. He called his friend and you explained both some things about the script and when the time came they started the show. You were surprise this was their first time, they looked nervous but at the same time they were eloquent and funny. You tried your best to pay attention to your work, because that’s what they were paying you for, not to look at Johnny. But damn, it was hard.

A week passed and the only thing that you did was waiting for the night to see him. You were going mad. He was just a man. An idol, a very handsome and cute, and funny, and kind man, but at the end he was just a man. You realized you were completely fucked up when you started to watch his fancams. I mean, he was famous, talented, successful, and you were a very average looking exchange student who every month struggled with paying the bills. You mentalized yourself, that night you were going to do your work and nothing else, but he made it difficult though, every night before starting he used to talk to you about whatever was on his mind. But this time you were going to stay strong and tell him you had to be focused on your work.

Everything was going fine at first, but Johnny wasn’t going to let you live in peace. Actually, he was going to change your whole life with a single question.

“y/n would you like to take a coffee with me after tonight’s show?” your whole brain shut down. The only thing you could do was to blurt “yes, yes, sure, I would like that a lot” Great, you sounded like a fucking asshole, and a very, very desperate one, congratulations.

You were nervous like you’ve never been in your life. And confused, was this a date? A simple coffee? What did he wanted to talk about? About the radio? Jesus, you haven’t had a date in years. Time passed surprisingly fast for your liking and soon you found yourself on the cafeteria of the building having a decaffeinated cappuccino and listening to him talk about NCT 127 promotions. You weren’t sure if it you passed out from the stress and it was all a dream or if you actually had Johnny Suh talking to you about his day and laughing at your dad jokes.

Soon it became a routine, every night after the show you both went to the cafeteria and talked until late about your childhood, your dreams, your fears, until you had to leave to go to sleep so you didn’t die at uni next morning. Talking to him was effortless, it was like you knew him all your life, he was even better than what you thought, so full of love to give, smart, thoughtful, trustable, caring, so you weren’t surprised when you realized you were in love.  It happened after a little hiatus the program took for a show they had overseas, and when you saw him again for the first time it hit you. He came almost running to you and hugged you tight in front of all the team “I missed you a lot” he said, muffled by your hair. You found yourself breathless once again and mumbled a tiny “me too”. And just like that the realization came: you were deeply and madly in love with Johnny Suh and you wanted him to hold you like that for the rest of your life. You both let go the hug and everybody went back to work, except for you two. “a little bird told me your birthday is in a few days so, I was wondering if instead of a coffee you would like to have dinner with me” you were shooked, if the coffee dates weren’t actually a date, this was. And for your birthday! You were exploding with happiness.

That night also was when the first kiss happened. While the program was going on and Jaehyun was reading some twits from the fans, you and Johnny locked eyes. And it felt different, it wasn’t a simple visual contact, it was filled with a tension of some kind, you could feel it from across the glass and you were sure he was feeling the same too. He went on with the script but he never stopped looking at you and it was getting very intense and it only stopped when it was time for the commercials. Eventually the show ended and like every night you both headed to the elevator to go to the cafeteria floor. Normally being on the elevator with him felt overwhelming but to a normal amount. That time he didn’t even gave you time to feel nervous, as soon as the door closed he roughly leaned his whole body against yours until your back touched the wall, looking at you in the eyes, like if he was asking for your permission, you pushed him down by the nape and connected your lips to his. It was the most intense kiss you ever had, it conveyed so much passion, weeks of holding back now were being unleashed in a single kiss. His lips were heaven and hell, so dangerous but so necessary, like a drug. His hands were all over you and yours were tugging at his perfectly styled hair, now messy. You were forced to stop when the elevator reached its destiny and the door opened but your legs weren’t responding and him didn’t moved either, so you stayed for a few seconds looking at each other, breathing heavily, until you both started laughing and finally came out.

The new routine was making out in every corner of the building everytime you were alone and then go to drink coffee and chat like nothing happened. Like if you weren’t a mess, and like if he hadn’t had to hide a boner everytime. It was surreal.

Since the radio program ended after twelve o’clock you celebrated your birthday along with your coworkers, and when the show ended you went to change your clothes while Johnny waited for you in the hall, downstairs. You wore a red dress and only a red lipstick since you wanted to look good quickly, and let your hair down. When you finally met you noticed he changed his outfit for a more elegant one: black shirt and black pants. You both flustered when you saw each other “you look amazing birthday girl” he flirted with you. “you don’t look that bad yourself JonhD” you said back. “JonhD?”, he asked confused “yes, you know…your name is John and you are a dj” he laughed out loud at your explanation while he helped you to get on the company van. Soon you arrived to a private restaurant, that giving the hour it was supposed to be closed but SM has its ways.

In the middle of it was a table settled for two and Johnny helped pulling your chair like a gentleman. The conversation went very fluid during all the dinner until the champagne arrived. He stopped talking and stared at your eyes, and you realized they got teary so yours did too. He swallowed and spoke “y/n this might sound a little rushed, giving the fact that we only knew eachother two months ago and all that but” he made a pause to breath and you did too “I think I’m in love with you and, I’ll really love to be your boyfriend” a tear fell from his eye. “i know it might be hard because of my work and the fans but I really want you to be my girl” he started to get nervous since you weren’t answering “I fully understand if you don’t want to though”. You couldn’t bring yourself to believe it, but it was real. He was in front of you, looking at your eyes and saying that he loved you. You were paralyzed and the lump in your throat wouldn’t let you speak, but you ignored it and answered.

“John Suh, nothing in this world could make me more happy right now than call you my boyfriend” you grabbed him by his hands and smiled at him “I love you, I truly do”. He left out all the air he was holding and smiled too “thanks god, I though I was going to have to return your gift” he took out of his blazers pocket a medium sized velvet box and handed it to you. “oh Johnny, you shouldn't have brought me anything” he shushed you and looked at you expectantly. Without wasting any more time you opened it and inside of it was a beautiful and delicate heart necklace with both initials and your birthday date, which now was also your anniversary. Needless to say you were speechless.

Even after a year and with him taking a nap in your lap it all still felt like a dream, Johnny declaring himself to you, and now he being your first love and first boyfriend. You gently stroked his hair with one hand at the same time you were playing with your necklace, after a few minutes he slowly woke up and looked at you “nice double chin, baby” he murmured. “I can’t believe that the first thing you do after waking up is making fun of me” he laughed and you lowered your head to kiss him “happy first anniversary headass”. 

Hii!! this is my second scenario ever and since the first one got a lot of notes i decided to write another. its not as good as the first one in my opinion but i had this idea on my mind for a while and i wanted to share it! please if you notice any grammatical error let me know! it means a lot for me if you could like and share<3 

Thank you for reading me and STAY HEALTHY.

#NCT 127 #nct blurb #nct scenario #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct johnny #johnny suh #johnny fluff #johnny seo #johnny scenario #johnny fic #seo youngho #johnny soft hours #johnny suh fluff #nct soft hours #johnny au #nct 127 soft hours

[khhunniewriting]

Apology Necessary (4)

After the last time, Hanbin didn’t know what to expect when he got back to filming. Part of him thought you would quit and the Anti-Couple would be no more. That’s why he was shocked to see you waiting for him inside his dressing room.

When you saw Hanbin freeze at the door you knew you would have to be the first to speak. “Hi...” your greeting was strange and awkward perfectly reflecting how you felt at the moment.

“Hey...” he responded just as awkwardly. 

“The other day I... I talked to YG...” You looked down at your hands as you pulled on the end of your sleeves. Talking to Hanbin normally was harder than you thought it would be. 

Hanbin was still too shocked to act on the opportunity that had presented itself. You were finally acknowledging his presence outside of filming. You had come to him, looked for him, and even waited for him in his dressing room! He had been hoping for a small window of opportunity when you would allow him to speak his mind. Now here it was and he couldn’t say a thing. 

“...and Lisa.”

“What?” Hanbin finally took a few steps closer. A thousand bad thoughts entered his mind when you mentioned his ex. “Why did you want to talk to her?”

“I didn’t but YG wanted to make a point.” After your conversation with YG, you went home with a lot of things on your mind. “What would it take to make the pain go away? That’s what he wanted me to know... I’ll never get over it unless we both say what we wanted to say three years ago.”

Relief washed over him, “I agree.” Every time he tried to talk to you he was ignored, you wouldn’t even look at him. You were finally giving him a chance to talk and he would take it. 

The director’s assistant knocked once before entering in a panic. “Hanbin we can’t find Y/N have you seen-” she stopped when she saw you. “There you are, hope you two weren’t fighting.”

“Just a little,” you joked knowing it was best for her to think that rather than something else.

“We need you to get to the house before Hanbin, the van is waiting outside.”

“I’ll be right there,” you assured her. Once she was out of earshot you went back to your current task. “Can we talk...” you hesitated. You knew today’s filming would end late into the night so there was a good chance he was free but you didn’t want to assume anything. “Maybe after filming ends?”

Hanbin immediately nodded, nothing would make him miss this opportunity. “Yeah, of course.” 

Hanbin stared at you expectantly, a timid smile plastered on his face. The filming had gone exceptionally well. Many of the staff had commented on how much more natural your relationship on-screen had looked.  He looked down at the table where his coffee stood as his only distraction from your stare. 

The silence between you two was uncomfortable but necessary. As you sat back, crossed arms on the table, you thought of what it is you wanted- no- needed to hear form Hanbin. The longer you thought the harder you stared at the idol before you. “Why didn’t you stand up for me?”

“Wha-” his mind had nervously wandered off nearly missing the question.

“When Lisa lied to YG about us dating...” your brow furrowed trying to eloquently form your question but it was just too much for you to say in one breath. “During the whole scandal, you must have had plenty of chances to stop the lies. Why didn’t you?” Again you repeated the most daunting question, “Why didn’t you stand up for me?”

Immediately you felt lighter, your shoulders relaxed and fell making you feel as if you were resting for the first time in years. 

Hanbin was the exact opposite. Before his eyes could do nothing but rest on you and now he could hardly turn in your direction. “I ask myself the same question to this day.”

Of course, he knew the right thing to do back then was to immediately stop the rumor mill. He should have confessed to YG that Lisa was his girlfriend, not you. The people who deserved to lose their careers, their futures, were him and Lisa. Licking his lips he worked up the courage to offer insight into his mind. “At one point I kept saying it was because I loved Lisa too much or that I was just too selfish to risk my own career.”

“So you sat back and watched me burn?” you asked incredulously. For some reason, anger was no longer your dominant emotion. It was pity, resent, and remorse. “All I ever tried to do was live an honest, drama-free life.” Your hands uncrossed, your dominant hand laid flat on the table as you pointed out your life plan . “I kept my social circle small, focused on my future, and stayed out of trouble. My greatest mistake was believing you were my friend.” 

“Y/N I’m sorry. I really was your friend.”

You nodded, “until it became inconvenient for you.” The things he did to you were unforgivable. Never would you have caused so much chaos to an innocent bystander. “I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt our friendship.”

Hanbin shook his head. There was never a time like that.

But it was the only explanation for you. “At some point, I must have done something that caused you to think I was less than Lisa, less than you.”

“I was stupid.” Hanbin reached out to place his hand on top of yours. He needed you to understand how badly everything got taken out of proportion. 

You nodded in agreement. His hand felt warm against yours but it hardly did anything to melt the iciness of your heart. “I realized something after Lisa and YG apologized to me.”

It was true, you wanted to hear Hanbin apologize. You wanted to see him struggle to admit he had been in the wrong. To face you with the same confidence he stood on stage with knowing he had stolen your chance of doing the same. It wasn’t revenge, it was retribution. 

With the calmest of demeanors, you placed your other hand on top of his. Now you cradled his hand in both of yours and genuinely smiled at him. With a sigh, you confessed to him, “I hate you Hanbin.” 

The tears finally spilled over. Their appearance had been long overdue. “Sticks and stones may break my bones but physical wounds heal... but words lay dormant causing emotional wounds that are carried for a lifetime.”

This was not the way Hanbin envisioned the conversation going. For so long he thought if you only gave him a chance, he would surely gain your friendship back.

“Y/N I know I hurt you but you can’t honestly mean that.”

“I can and I do. Hanbin you used me just as much as Lisa did... and for that I hate you.”

The barista came over to apologize and remind you both that the cafe would be closing soon. Thankfully she was older and didn’t recognize either of you. 

WIth a courteous smile, you acknowledged her reminder. “Thank you, we will be going now.” 

The two of you silently walked out- one feeling lighter than when she first entered and the other carried a heavier burden. 

“Y/N,” he called out to you.

“We’re done talking Hanbin.” There was nothing left to say. “I will continue with the show like I promised YG so you don’t have to worry about that. And as soon as filming is over I will go back to my life of seclusion. It will be hard to do that here with all your fans so I’ll move.”

Hanbin bit down his tongue to keep from saying anything else. 

“I hope all your success was worth my pain.”

It wasn’t.

-end-

A/N: Finally I can write this off as finished ^^ Can you tell I kind of rushed it? I sort of forgot exactly how it was going to end but it was always ment to be a sad ending with nothing resolved.

#kpop scenarios #ikon scenarios #b.i scenarios #hanbin scenarios #kim hanbin scenarios #ikon b.i #ikon #kpop #b.i #kim hanbin #hanbin #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

[olicitysecretsanta]

Love Knows No Season, Love Knows No Clime (The Christmas Ornament)

For @foreverfelicityqueen from @allimariexf

Happy holidays to you, Kayla @foreverfelicityqueen!! I wanted to try to incorporate your wishes into this story, which meant going out of my comfort zone! I don’t know if this will be what you imagined, but I had such a fun time writing Tommy and doing the “soulmates” theme - both things I’ve never tried before! Thank you for that! I hope you like the result, which is a little fluffy, a little angsty, a little smutty and a little Hallmark magicky! :D 

Tags: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn/Laurel Lance (implied), Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn, Laurel Lance (mentioned), William Clayton (mentioned), canon compliant, soul mates, christmas! fic, pre-Island, season 2, post-7x09, fluff and smut and light angst, mildly Hallmark-Christmasy, but darker because Arrow

Rating: M

Summary: Christmas magic

_________________________________ December 24, 1996

Oliver found Tommy sitting in the darkened hallway, lit only by the festive lights of the party below.

“Hey.”

Tommy looked up, not bothering to smile. “Hey.”

“Was wondering where you went. Laurel was asking about you.”

Tommy made a face.

Oliver grinned. “What? I think she likes you. What’s so bad about that?” He took a seat on the floor next to his friend.

Tommy lifted an eloquent eyebrow. “She likes you. She only asked about me so she’d have an excuse to talk to you, you know.”

Oliver stared back at his friend for a long moment before looking down with a knowing smile. “Okay, maybe.” He paused and listened to the sounds of music and voices drifting up from below that seemed to belong to another world. “What are you doing up here?”

When Tommy didn’t answer, Oliver gave his shoulder a shove. “Come on, there are a lot of girls down there! And no chaperones. And you were the one who stole the liquor out of your dad’s cabinet to spike the punch, dude!” He raised his eyebrows significantly. “Good job, by the way. But it makes me wonder why you aren’t down there enjoying it.”

Tommy shook his head, clearly in one of his moods. Oliver was used to it. Ever since his mom died and his dad left three years ago, Tommy had become a fixture at the Queen home, and he was more like a brother than a friend to Oliver. Most of the time he was the same old Tommy, fluent in sarcasm, never one to turn down a dare, who didn’t understand the concept of taking things too far. But every once in a while he would go silent and unreachable, and Oliver knew this was one of those times.

“You thinking about your dad? Or your mom?”

“Actually, I was thinking about girls, and then -”

Oliver swung his head around to give Tommy an incredulous look. “You’re up here brooding about girls?”

“Ha! No, not exactly.” The brief smile slid off his face. “I was thinking about girls, and that reminded me.” He drew a pair of objects from where they had been stashed behind him, and Oliver squinted into the darkness to make them out. “My mom gave these to me.”

Oliver looked at his friend, all jokes about sappy heart-shaped Christmas ornaments falling away from his lips.

“Well actually, I found them. The Christmas before she died.” He smiled softly. “I was looking through her closet to see if I could find out which Super Nintendo games she got me -” he met Oliver’s eyes with a grin, “Battletoads and Double Dragon!”

Oliver laughed with Tommy at the memory of the hours they’d spent playing the game, but he knew his friend had more to say, so he stayed silent. The sound of girls shrieking pierced the silence, and Oliver felt a strong sense of missing out on his own party, but he shoved the feeling down and waited for Tommy to continue.

“Instead, I found these ornaments.” He held them up into the dim light so Oliver could inspect them better. There were two of them, identical, each one made of wood and delicately carved into a pair of hearts. The words “My True Love” were painted in the center, with obvious space for two names below it. “She told me one of her patients gave them to her at the clinic. She said he was an artist and that he couldn’t afford to pay her, but he made her these ornaments, and told her….” He frowned slightly, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should continue.

Oliver was intrigued. “He told her what?”

“He told her they were magic.” He rolled his eyes and then looked at Oliver, waiting for judgment.

Oliver suppressed the sarcastic comment he normally would have made, because he could see that the ornaments, the story, the memory meant something to Tommy. Still, he was skeptical. “Magic?” A slightly indulgent smiled played over his lips.

Tommy shook his head, smiling. “I know, I know. It’s dumb.”

“Hey. It’s not dumb. It’s just…magic? What’s so magical about an ornament?”

“Well, according to my mom, you write your name here,” he pointed to the leftmost blank spot on one of the ornaments, “and then on Christmas eve you wish upon a Christmas star -”

“What’s a Christmas star?”

Tommy laughed. “I dunno. A star you see on Christmas? That’s what my mom called it, okay? I mean I know it’s all BS anyway….”

“Hey.” Oliver punched him lightly. “I didn’t say it was BS. What happens next? What are you supposed to wish for?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “It is BS. Sappy love stuff. Okay? You write your name here, and you wish on a star for your one true love to find you. Your soulmate, or some crap like that.” He set the ornaments down and turned to face Oliver. “I thought of them because I was just down there, looking at you. Wondering how you get girls to like you.”

Oliver opened his mouth in surprise, but he felt himself flush with the still-new knowledge that it was true. Girls did like him. Until recently, it had been more of an inconvenience than anything, but more and more lately he found that he didn’t mind, that he liked the attention. “Tommy, you know I -”

“Ollie, it’s fine! It’s not a big deal. I was just thinking about it, and I remembered these ornaments, and it got me thinking about my mom.”

“You know you’re my best friend, right? Girls are just…girls.”

A slow smile spread over Tommy’s face. “Yeah. I know.”

Oliver matched his small smile and picked up one of the ornaments from the floor. “She was a good mom.”

“Thanks. She thought of you like a son too, you know. In fact, she told me this other ornament was for you.”

Oliver ran his thumb over the blank space on the right side of the ornament. “So what’s supposed to happen?”

Tommy spoke carefully, but Oliver heard the note of hope he was clearly trying to hide. “We write our names here. We wish on a star on Christmas eve. We put the ornament away. Then our true love will bring it to us one day, and her name will be written next to ours.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Ollie -”

“Come on, let’s do it! It’s Christmas eve. There’s a bunch of girls down there. Who knows what will happen?”

Tommy grinned at him, not saying thanks for humoring him and not teasing him, but Oliver understood anyway.

They opened the doors of the second floor balcony at the end of the hallway, meeting the freezing, crystal clear night. Situated over six miles from any other civilization, the Queen mansion always had excellent stargazing visibility, and tonight was no exception.

“Oh, crap, we forgot to write our names.”

“Umm. Here, I still have this from when I was writing names on the take-home bags.” He pulled a pen out of his pocket.

“It’s green.”

Oliver shrugged. “It’s festive.”

Tommy took the pen and wrote his name before passing it back to Oliver. “Now we wish.”

Oliver looked at Tommy, trying to match his solemn mood. “Okay. I wish that my one true love will come find me.”

“Yes. And I also wish that my one true love will come find me.”

“And they’ll bring us these ornaments.”

“Yeah.”

Oliver waited a moment, to give the wish time to take effect. “Now what?”

Tommy grinned. “Now we go back to the party and let the girls come to us!”

December 24, 2005

The door to the pool house opened again, the very loud sounds of the party spilling out into the cold night air, but people had been coming and going from the large inground hot tub all night, so Oliver didn’t think anything of it until Tommy rounded the corner and spotted him.

“Hey!”

“Hey.”

“I was looking for you. Kinda surprised to find you alone, though.” He settled into the lounge chair next to Oliver’s. “Laurel asked me to find you. I was prepared to tell her I found you throwing up in the bushes.”

Oliver let his gaze drift over to meet Tommy’s, but he didn’t match his friend’s knowing smile.

Still, Tommy pressed on. “I saw you talking to Rachel Atwell.”

“Who?”

“That redhead, Tanya Ferris’s cousin here on break from Vassar. You know, the one who had her hands up your shirt and her tongue in your mouth?”

“Oh. Her.”

“Yeah, Ollie. Her.”

Oliver felt Tommy waiting for an explanation, but he stayed silent.

“What’s going on, buddy?”

“Do you remember when you found those Christmas ornaments from your mom, the night of my first co-ed Christmas party, when we wished on a star for our true loves?” He had been staring off into the darkness, but after Tommy didn’t say anything for a minute, he looked over to find his friend giving him a strange look.

“Ollie, are you okay?”

“Do you remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. It was a silly thing we did, you were being nice to me about missing my mom and my awkward stage with girls. Thank goodness that’s over, right?”

A smiled flashed over Oliver’s face, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Seriously, buddy, what’s going on?”

“I got kicked out of Princeton.”

Tommy frowned. “That’s what’s bothering you? I mean, not to be insensitive, but you didn’t seem that bothered when you got kicked out of Harvard.”

Oliver shrugged.

“What did Laurel say?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Oh. But -”

Oliver met his friend’s questioning gaze without emotion.

“But wasn’t she transferring to Princeton to be with you?”

Oliver nodded once. “Yep.”

“Okay, okay. No big deal. I’m sure your parents can work something out, get you a second chance or something.”

Oliver’s gaze slid away to focus off into the distance again.  “Did your one true love ever come find you?”

“Ollie. Oliver. Come on, man. That wasn’t real. There’s no such thing as magic.”

“But is there such a thing as true love?”

It was Tommy’s turn to be silent.

“What is love, anyway? Is it like my parents?”

“Man, I don’t know.” For once, there was a note of impatience in his voice. “You tell me. You’re the one of us who’s in a serious, long-term relationship.”

Oliver shook his head, sighing. “I know she makes me feel good about myself, like I’m special. Is that true love? I know that it doesn’t matter how much of a screw-up I am, she always tells me I’m a good person.”

“Yeah, she definitely loves you, Ollie.”

“She caught me cheating on her last month. She walked in on me in my dorm room when she was visiting me on campus.”

“Wait, wait. Let me get this straight: she was staying with you on campus, and you brought someone else to your dorm room?”

Oliver nodded.

“Dude, you have serious balls! Almost like you wanted to get caught!”

Oliver nodded absently. “She was really upset. She screamed at me, stormed off. I found her crying an hour later. But she forgave me, and then we had really great make-up sex.”

Tommy grinned. “Like I said, she really loves you. Nothing you could do would make her leave you.”

Oliver was silent for a long moment. “She’s too good for me.”

Tommy shrugged. “Someday you’ll be good enough for her.” He smiled mischievously. “But maybe not today? You’re still young, dude. Way too young to be worried about settling down just yet, in my opinion. Not when Rachel Atwell is just one hot girl among many, my friend, and you have a 6-years-running Christmas eve streak to maintain. Come on. We’ll go reassure Laurel and make your excuses.”

A slow smile was spreading over his face at the idea. Tommy was right. And besides, how was he ever supposed to know if what he had with Laurel was true love if he didn’t compare her to other girls? “She’s probably going to see through any excuses you come up with.”

“Well thank god she’s forgiving, then.”

December 24, 2013

The sound of the foundry’s door unlocking jolted Oliver out of his thoughts, and he swiveled toward the CC feed to see who was coming to the lair this late on Christmas eve. He felt an involuntary surge of pleasure in his chest as he watched Felicity descend the stairs, but he was used to that. After all, she was his friend.

She stopped short on the last step as she saw him sitting in her chair. “Oh. Hi!”

Oliver smiled and stood up, moving toward her. “Hi.”

They spoke at the same time. “What are you doing here?”

Felicity laughed and looked down.

“I thought you were in Central City.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “I was.” She stepped off the last stair and would have slipped past him, but Oliver reached out and laid his hand on her arm, sensing something was bothering her.

She shook her head, but she didn’t move away. “It’s nothing.”

“Felicity.” He slid his arm up to her shoulder and waited.

She looked up at him with an expression that he couldn’t quite identify. Self deprecation, maybe. “I was at the hospital, with Barry’s foster father and some of his friends, and it was really nice.” She looked down, nodding to herself. “They were all really nice, welcoming. Really awesome people. I was having a good time, but then it occurred to me, these people have a history, they’re a family, you know? And here I am, taking up their time and attention, and they don’t even know me. Don’t really have a reason to. Like, who am I? What am I even doing here?”

“Felicity, you -”

“When Joe West invited me to spend Christmas eve with them, I was really excited.”

“I remember.” He remembered the strange feeling in his chest when she told him about it, too. Remembered how he’d clamped down on that feeling, knowing he had no right to begrudge her a chance to be happy.

“I mean, regardless of the fact that I don’t celebrate Christmas myself, it’s a day when everyone goes off and spends time with their close friends and family, and, I dunno. I thought it would be nice to be a part of that for once.” She looked up at Oliver with sad eyes. “But rather than feeling like I was a part of something, I was reminded how much I don’t belong.”

“Hey.” Oliver squeezed her shoulder with the hand that was still resting there.

“I mean, who am I to Barry, anyway? We only just met when it happened. I’m not really a part of his life at all, definitely not part of his family. I’m not really a part of anyone’s family.”

“Felicity.” He shook her a little, to pull her out of her spiral, and placed his other hand on her shoulder, leaning down so she would focus on him. She met his eyes with a look that made him bite back unbidden words that suddenly threatened to spill out. You’re part of my life. You’re my family. When did that become true? Because he knew instantly and with bone-deep certainty that it was the truth.

She looked back at him for a long moment, and he suspected she could read some of what he didn’t say in his eyes. Eventually she blinked and spoke in a brighter tone, obviously attempting to change the subject. “What about you? I thought you were going to spend Christmas eve with your family?”

Oliver let his hands slide from her shoulders and looked away, vaguely aware that there might be other unexpected truths lurking in his eyes. “I did. I mean, mom and Thea and I had dinner and exchanged gifts, and then Thea went over to Roy’s and my mom went off to do whatever she does, and I came here.”

Felicity stared for a long moment at her chair, where he’d been sitting when she’d entered. “Why here?” She looked up at him suddenly. “You weren’t thinking of going out there, were you? We agreed we’d take tonight off.”

Oliver gave a short laugh. “No, I just….” His eyes also drifted over to her chair. “I guess I just felt more at home here.” And it was true. As much has he had insisted he spend the night with his mom and his sister, the uncomfortable truth was that the people he was closest to, the people who knew him best, were not the ones he’d come home from the island to save, but the ones who had joined him in his crusade.

He felt Felicity move toward him, close enough that her shoulder brushed against his as she came to stand beside him. “Yeah.”

Because of the life that I lead…. His words to Felicity had crystallized what he had realized months ago, that his dangerous life, the risks he took, meant that didn’t have space in his life for a relationship. But what exactly counted as a relationship? Where was the line? He was still allowed to have friends, right?

He was struck with a sudden idea. “Hey. We should get out of here. This is no place to spend Christmas eve.” He looked down to find her staring at him with one eyebrow raised, just as he expected.

“What?”

A tiny smile crept over his face. He would never admit out loud how much he enjoyed surprising her. “Come on. Let’s go see the tree at Nelson Plaza. I haven’t really gotten to see it yet this year.”

“Oliver -”

He heard the protest in her tone, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. So what that he had decided he couldn’t have a life outside of being the Arrow - that he couldn’t risk getting in a romantic relationship. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still be there for his friends, did it? Because Felicity, his team - they were more than friends; they were his family. Wanting Felicity to feel cared for? That was allowed. That was what friends - family - did for one another. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that.

* * * * * * * * * * *

They took his Ducati, and when she wrapped her arms around his waist, he realized they’d never done this before. Never ridden together on his bike. Never gone anywhere socially, just the two of them. That realization, or maybe the feeling of her chest pressed against his back, made his stomach flip with sudden misgivings, but he shoved the feeling down. He wasn’t at risk of going against his vow; he simply cared about her, and that wasn’t the same thing.

She was shivering when she climbed off the bike. “Wow, I really should have brought my heavier coat!”

Oliver began to peel his leather jacket off. “Here -”

“Hey, no! You need that! I’ll be fine.”

On an impulse, he wrapped his arm around her instead, and it wasn’t until he felt her body stiffen for a brief second before relaxing under his touch that he realized that they didn’t do things like that, either. But why shouldn’t they? Wanting someone to be safe and comfortable, that was what friends did, right?

“At least it’s not raining for once. The sky’s so clear I can see the stars.”

Oliver looked up, realizing she was right. He was struck suddenly with the memory of Tommy, of wishing on a Christmas star. Of staring up at the stars on Christmases since then, never quite forgetting the childish wish he had made. He felt a sudden rush of sorrow as he realized that, with his new realization that his life as a vigilante required him to be alone, the part of him that had never given up on the idea of one day finding true love might never get to experience it.

He was lost in his thoughts as they approached Nelson Plaza, until Felicity’s voice broke him out of his memories.

“It’s beautiful. So many thousands of lights.”

It was true. The Nelson Plaza tree gave Rockefeller Center a run for its money, and it was one of the few things of magic and beauty that Oliver remembered from his childhood that still remained. “Have you ever been to the tree-lighting?”

Felicity shook her head, her eyes never leaving the spectacle in front of them.

“We used to come every year when I was a kid. Queen Consolidated is a major sponsor, so my dad and mom would come and be part of the ceremony.” A small sigh escaped him at the memory of simpler times. “I used to feel so proud to be a part of it.”

He felt Felicity’s arm wrap around his back, but she didn’t look away from the tree, giving him the space to speak or remain silent as he chose.

Oliver laughed bitterly. “To think I prided myself on being a Queen. To think I thought that made me better. I had no idea what my family’s true legacy was built on, what it would become.”

Felicity ran her hand soothingly up and down his back, and he closed his eyes, unable to resist taking comfort and pleasure from the touch.

“Your family’s legacy is in your hands now, Oliver. You can make it something to be proud of. You are not your father. Or your mother. You’re better than that.”

He looked down at her, blonde hair glowing in the yellow light, until she returned his gaze. “You really believe that.”

“Of course I do, Oliver. I know you.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know everything.”

“I know you’re not perfect.” She lifted the corner of her mouth in a small smile. “I still haven’t forgiven you for making me your Executive Assistant without asking me.” But her tone suggested she had forgiven him enough to joke about it.

“Felicity, you don’t know the things I -”

“I know enough. You’re not your father, Oliver. You fight for the people in this city.”

Still, he couldn’t let it go. It was true that even though he hadn’t told her much about the five years he was gone, she’d seen enough over the past year to know him at his worst. But something else was still bothering him, a guilt that had been riding him for over a month, that he suddenly needed to expose under the harsh light of truth. “I’m not as unlike my father as you might think.” He held her eyes, making sure she understood he was serious. “He slept with his secretaries, his interns, his…business partners.”

He watched the reference land on her face, watched the veil of disappointment descend. She seemed at a loss for words.

What was he doing? Was he trying to hurt her? Hurt himself? Trying remind her how misplaced her belief in him was? But he knew that most of all, he needed her to have no illusions. For some reason, it was important that he was always, always honest with her. “And I’m sorry. I never meant to be like him, not like that.”

“Oliver, I….” She turned back toward the tree so he couldn’t see her face as she spoke. “You don’t need to apologize to me. You don’t owe me anything. I meant what I said. If anything, you need to apologize to yourself, because you deserve better than her.”  She turned under his arm, and her eyes met his with that earnest look that always convinced him that she saw past all his masks.

He nodded, speaking lowly and held transfixed by her steady gaze. “I know. And that’s why I wanted to apologize to you. Because I know I let you down.”

A slow smile was spreading over her face, and Oliver found himself leaning down, drawing her body closer to his, eyes moving between her eyes and her mouth. Compelled toward her, heart beating in his throat, breath coming faster, not thinking, only feeling, only wanting, in a way he had never let himself want her before.

It was only for a second that seemed to stretch on forever, but then he remembered himself, remembered his promise to himself and to her, and he stopped. He gave her a small smile and a gentle squeeze before leaning away and gazing back at the tree. Because trusting someone, caring for them, needing them to be safe, knowing that they care for you, knowing that they see the real you - separately, those were all acceptable elements of friendship. But all of them together, combined with kissing? It was more than anything he’d ever felt before, for anyone. It was overwhelming, dangerous, and absolutely not something he was allowed to have. Because it was undeniably, dangerously close to love.

He knew she had recognized his intention in his eyes, and he saw something like surprise and then disappointment flit across her face before she, too, masked her emotions, but it didn’t have to mean anything if they didn’t let it, so they both remained quiet for almost a minute, letting the moment slip away.

Still, Oliver was surprised when it was Felicity who broke the silence first.

“Thanks for this. Tonight, I mean. Thanks for bringing me here.”

He turned toward her, and she tilted to meet his eyes with minimal awkwardness.

“I just mean, this is a place you associate with your family, so thanks for sharing it with me.”

“Felicity.” He paused to let the moment gain significance. “You are my family.”

Her eyes widened momentarily, and then she smiled, because they both knew it was true.

“And don’t give up on Barry.” Her smile froze a little, but he carried on. “I know you only just met him, but I can’t imagine a world where his life doesn’t get better for having you in it.”

She huffed out a surprised laugh, then nodded. “Thanks.”

He stepped back, pulling on her arm as he turned back toward the street. “You’re welcome, Felicity.”

December 24, 2018 (morning)

So much had changed in a year, and as much as Oliver tried to be stable, a rock for Felicity and William to lean on, there were times when he was completely caught off guard by how different everything seemed.

The new apartment. Working with the police. Living among the public unmasked as the Green Arrow.

William, older and more mature and with a new layer of wariness in his eyes that wounded Oliver to the core.

Felicity, with new armor and barbs covering bruises that might never completely heal. Bruises that he’d inflicted.

And the world around him on this side of prison, brighter than he remembered, but forever changed, too.

But when he thought of last Christmas, crouched under the threat of the FBI investigation and tainted by the sting of betrayal, he renewed his determination to make this year the best Christmas any of them had ever had. His family deserved it.

He rolled over onto his back, still unused to sleeping on the left side of the bed. It was one of the many small adjustments he’d had to make since being back. Apparently Felicity had slept on his side of the bed the entire time he’d been in Slabside so that by the time he came back, his side had become her side.

“Hey.”

She was also usually awake before him, which was definitely not something he was used to. “Hey.” But at least she was still in bed this morning. Some days he woke to nothing but a cold emptiness next to him, the sheets and blankets barely betraying that a person had been there at all, and those mornings were usually the start of the worst days. Thankfully, that had been happening less and less in the two-ish weeks since reality had been restored. Since he had reassured her that any version of him would love any version of her in any reality, always. He rolled on his side to face her, and his heart sped up at the sight of her.

She smiled at him and lifted her palm to his cheek. “You have that look on your face again.”

Oliver smiled. “Which look?” But he knew which look she meant. It was the look he got every time he wanted to see her and all he had to do was open his eyes to get his wish. It was the look he got when he realized he’d gotten out of the habit of taking her presence for granted.

Instead of answering, she stretched toward him, capturing his lips in a series of soft, open-mouthed kisses, grabbing his chin with one hand and running the other down his chest.

Oliver groaned and ran his hands into her hair, enjoying the sensations sparking as she raked her fingernails along sensitive areas on his body. “God, Felicity.” He leaned slightly back, momentarily breaking away from her kisses so he could see her. Somehow, despite all she had been through, she was more beautiful than he remembered. “How can I love you this much?”

Felicity’s eyes widened in surprise, but before she could say anything, he leaned forward and claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss. She responded instantly, parting her lips and wrapping her arms around him, letting him lower her down on her back.

This was also new. They had always needed each other, loved each other passionately and almost insatiably, or so he had thought. But ever since he’d gotten out of Slabside, it was if they needed physical intimacy more than they needed air. At first he thought it was only because they were substituting sex for difficult conversations, and then he thought it was a way for them to reassure themselves that they loved each other even when all their conversations inevitably led to arguments, but slowly, slowly they were working through their issues, and using words to express not just hurt but love, yet the unrelenting physical need for each other remained.

He met her eyes and she nodded, and it was all the encouragement he needed before he slid inside her. He paused a moment to let her adjust, and to just enjoy the feeling of being this close, his forearms on either side of her head, letting just a little of his weight press her into the mattress the way she liked. He took the opportunity to kiss along her neck and the underside of her jaw.

“Mmm, Oliver.” He felt the vibration of her words under his lips.

“Hmm?”

She ran her hands down his sides and over his ass, accentuating her words with a squeeze that pulled him into her more deeply, “Move.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He began to rock into her, responding to the cues of her hips. Her fingers played over his body, accentuating his pleasure, and she met him kiss for kiss. Lips, tongue, and teeth nipping, exploring, feeling, fast and slow, following and prompting the pace of their bodies.

And this, too, had taken some getting used to. As naturally as sex had always come to them, when they fell into bed again after a prison sentence apart,  Oliver found that it was different, more difficult, than it had been the first time, or than it had been when they’d come together after being broken up for a year and a half. It wasn’t that it wasn’t the best sex they’d ever had, because somehow it was; it was just that their established practices and expectations were different. She was still just as sensitive to his touch as ever, she just wanted him to touch her differently. And he’d found the same went for him. They’d had to relearn each other, and the process had been bittersweet as they discovered new things about each other and realized just how much they had changed. But on the whole, Oliver couldn’t be bothered to dwell on the past. As he had told her at ARGUS, and as he rediscovered in a different way every day, their love could weather any change; the only thing that mattered was that they were together.

He felt his orgasm impending, but he knew Felicity wasn’t quite as close so he pulled away, causing her to whine a little as she chased his mouth as far as she could reach. He looked down at her with a small smile, and eventually she dragged her gaze from his lips to his eyes. “Hey. You wanna get on top?”

She read the meaning behind his words and nodded, a small smile playing over her lips. “Yeah. Normally I’d say what’s the rush, but yeah. Christmas eve and William and everything.”

Oliver’s smile deepened at the thought of all the domestic bliss that awaited them. He pulled out of her, to the accompaniment of groans on both their parts at the loss of contact, and then she was pushing him up and over onto his back with a familiar bossiness that he had missed.

She fit herself over him and sank down with a low moan, letting her breasts brush over his chest as she began to kiss him again, and this time he let his hands explore her body, over her shoulders and down her sides, grasping her hips, over her amazing ass as she rode him, and long before he’d had nearly enough time to enjoy the lines and curves of her body, she was gasping into his mouth, grinding against him and hands cupping the sides of his head as she came, and after that there was no more holding back. He thrust up into her once, twice, before coming into her with his arms wrapped around her entire body, skin against skin, heartbeat against heartbeat, holding her as close as possible, but never close enough.

She was breathing hard, and he kissed the top of her head, over and over, his mind spinning with an emotion that no words could ever contain. Love really was too small a word. “Felicity.” He whispered it into her hair. “Felicity.”

She was boneless against him, but he felt her lips against his neck, brushing against the skin and pressing occasional kisses. “Oliver.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, only a little surprised at the words that had slipped from his lips while he was trying to figure out how best to express the overwhelming amount of love he was feeling.

But Felicity didn’t seem surprised at all, and she paused her kisses only long enough to reply. “I know.”

And for just a little longer before they had to get up, he held her tightly, enjoying the warmth and weight of her body over his, and he found himself once again contemplating the nature of love. He thought he’d figured it out long ago, when he first came to terms with his feelings for Felicity. It wasn’t just about feeling pleasure, or about being adored, or about responsibility. It wasn’t only about trusting and being trusted, about seeing behind masks and being your best self, or about being willing to do anything to protect each other. It was stronger than habit. It was remembering the past but living in the present. And most difficult of all to accept, but also the most powerful, was the realization that it wasn’t conditioned upon peace or comfort. He knew that he and Felicity still had far to go to settle their issues, and they might spend their whole lives untangling this mess and getting into new ones, but that meant that he’d get to spend his whole life untangling messes with Felicity, and that above all was the happiest of ever afters he could imagine.

* * * * * * * * * * * * December 24, 2018 (evening)

“Hey, Oliver?”

There was an odd note in Felicity’s voice, which might have worried him except he could see her by the Christmas tree from his place in the kitchen. He was cooking dinner and she was placing the last of the wrapped presents under the tree. “Yeah?”

“What’s this?”

Oliver glanced at William, who was helping him in the kitchen, but his son just shrugged, so he gave his hands a quick wash and wandered over to Felicity. She was sitting on the floor holding something cupped in her palms. “What’s what?” He crouched down next to her, taking the opportunity to run his fingers through her loose hair.

She looked at him, and her eyes were filled with a strange emotion: a mix of confusion, awe, love, and little bit of apprehension.

“Hey.” His hand instantly moved to cup her face, but she lifted the object and his eyes shifted to see what she was holding. And what he saw made his heart stop.

He hadn’t seen it in over 20 years, but he recognized it instantly. A carved wooden ornament, in the shape of two hearts, with the words “My True Love” painted on it. Below and on the left, written in a childish hand in green pen, “Oliver.” And to the right, in red pen, “Felicity.”

He dragged his eyes away from the ornament to meet her wide eyes. “Where did you get this?”

“It was on the tree. Oliver, this is my handwriting, but I - I didn’t write this. I would have remembered. I’ve never seen this before in my life. Did you put it here?”

Oliver shook his head, and he watched fear become more prominent in her eyes.

“Do you think…?”

“Felicity, no. No. Baby.” He covered the hand that was holding the ornament and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her into him. “It’s okay.”

She relaxed a little in his arms, trusting him. “You know what this is? What is it?”

Oliver grasped for an easy explanation, then laughed lightly when he realized there wasn’t one. He leaned back and looked her in the eyes. “Magic.”

“Magic?” Her tone was mildly exasperated. “Oliver, what does that mean?”

He took the ornament from her, holding it up so they could both examine it. “It’s a long story, one I’ll be happy to tell you.” He laid the ornament carefully on the ground and then took her head in his hands, gently pulling him toward her. “But the moral of the story is that I love you.” His eyes drifted to her lips and he couldn’t resist leaning down to give her one, two soft kisses.

When he leaned back and looked at her again, she was smiling at him indulgently. “Oliver Queen. You are the biggest sap. Sometimes I wonder how you ever had a reputation as a bad boy.”

He smiled into her eyes, both of them knowing that she had made all the difference. “People change, Felicity.”

He watched the reference slide home in her face, but this time she smiled more deeply without a trace of bitterness. Change had always been a part of who they were.

“I love you, Oliver Queen. Love is too small a a word.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he met her halfway.

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity secret santa 2018 #submission

[shewasanamericangirl]

screamin bout zi-o 36

i had fun doing this last week, so let’s make another screencap post! of course, i said that, and then it took several days to upload all the pictures because tumblr just stops fucking working sometimes. anyhoo! it’s yuko kitajima roast hour. image-heavy and spoiler-heavy, naturally.

so ginga blew everyone up and they ran away to a sewer it seems.

honestly that theory makes as much sense as anything else on this booty ass fuckin’ kamen rider show

i was just like...he isn’t

but then he was

swartz: she could step on me in those red pumps and i’d say Thank You

hora: i regret so much right now

uhr: *shonen anime character walking down the street pose*

then over quartzer plays and im starting to feel a little lost because i don’t get to hear about the episode according to woz’s book? hello??

yuko’s still out gettin her spa treatments and shit, god only knows how she got the money for all that, and somehow she never crosses paths with the cops or anyone who recognizes her from the news?? uh

honestly yeah?? a queen deserves to look GOOD. her theme music is eerily sexy, i need an mp3 of it right now

don’t get me wrong, im well aware that swartz is being a suck-up to try and get yuko to help with his plan to seize ginga’s power, but damn im kinda shipping swartz with yuko now too...i mean, he WAS looking at her while doing the sexy ice cream thing last week. what flavor ice cream would yuko be? black cherry chip maybe?

(headcanon: woz tries apple pie ice cream and declares it a crime against both apple pie and ice cream alike--but he still eats the whole coneful)

hora and uhr get ZA WARUDO’D down the stairs by swartz

we were all uhr right here

yeaaaaaah she just doesn’t want to fight ginga

tsukuyomi’s a mood. someone put a band-aid on geiz’s forehead pls

ok woz i get that if you’re looking for a despotic ruler to follow that yuko is likely a better bet than sougo, but you’re missing an important detail: if yuko actually had a shot at becoming queen of everything, she’d already have one of you in tow, and you would most likely hate each other.

...majou means “demon queen” in this case, not “witch”, right?

aaaaaand this...is the moment when yuko started making me very uncomfortable. the way she responds: “yes...i do remember. it’s you.”

and sougo’s face just lights up--my guy, she could so easily be lying. she didn’t say one thing about the band-aid or the playground or anything that’d indicate she’s actually sougo’s crush.

like...if not for the fact that sougo had such a crush on the seifuku girl, it wouldn’t be all that major a memory. it likely wasn’t for the girl in question--just a happy sunny day cheering up a lonely little boy. a beautiful memory, yes...but memories fade.

can someone please explain to me why woz’s characterization is all over the place in kiva arc? are you pro-yuko or anti-yuko, woz? i don’t understand what’s going through his pretty head at all honestly. he gets pretty taciturn in the scenes he’s not inhaling pie, but then at times he seems to think yuko’s cool aaaaaagh i don’t know

junichiro: meowing, just wanted an excuse to cook lots of food

sougo: “yay, uncle’s cooking!”

woz: [deadpan monotone] “yaaaaaaay uncle’s cooking...”

ive had enough of this evil bitch honestly but when she points it’s still Good Shit

ridiculous move name, but also an awesome move name

and turning to stone to heal up while the sun’s clouded over? very cool

denied

i noped so hard at this part. like...i really do feel protective of sougo. yuko doesn’t give a damn about him, she just doesn’t want him to get in her way.

nope. no. nuh uh. you two step away from each other right now.

YOU CANNOT MAKE BABIES WITH AN IDIOT FETUS

ok but in all seriousness, do you want time jackers? because, im calling it now, letting oma zi-o go in raw is how you get time jackers.

yeah im pretty sure miho would’ve kept at it if she’d lived, and yuko...shes not gonna listen to sougo

thank you for the much needed reality check furry man

so she’s a...fu-joshi? 👀

☝☝☝

yuko wears such fabulous shoes

was anyone surprised at this point that yuko was the real killer? i sure wasn’t. not after all the obvious lies.

i love her leitmotif. i need it. where do i download

SHE DIDN’T PROMISE SHIT

hey kids! it’s time for *mashes play button* la-la-la lies! yeah, tell me that you love me! la-la-la-lies! look deep into my eyes! la-la-la-lies! say there’s no one else above me! i’m the king of fools, cuz baby, you’re the queen of actually very hurtful and manipulative lies!

that’s such bullshit

now im the last person to be like “don’t play the dead mommy card”--i practically keep that card in the hello kitty wallet my dead mommy gave me. but i bet you yuko’s mom is just fine (aside from living with the trauma of knowing her daughter’s a murderer and pathological liar).

sougo,,,,,pls

thank you tsukuyomi. god sougo really needs a chaperone with yuko around, he’s way too dumb and thirsty.

GUESS WHO’S BACK. BACK AGAIN. fortunately, it seems swartz and woz have been just standing there watching him for the duration of the rain shower.

lest we forget (because i didn’t screencap it), when zi-o took the brunt of ginga’s attack earlier, it sent him flying. now, that’s a human body, which has some ability to absorb force because it’s mostly pretty soft and fluid. yuko’s manhole cover almost completely absorbed this blast--she barely shifted her weight on impact. is it just that she’s THAT ripped? 

then The Boys rider kick ginga to oblivion. rip ginga, you didn’t have a personality or a character arc, we never even saw you un-transformed--you were just a cool looking plot device with pretty attacks. but for that much, we appreciate you!

swartz looks so pleased with himself. he must not have watched the preview for this episode.

YOINK! gotta love how swartz doesn’t look surprised so much as puzzled.

sure am glad kurowoz took his other self’s advice and kept an eye on swartz

i love it so much how woz just has these magic scarf powers and it needs no explanation? hell, he can fly and time travel and make people fall asleep and he’s super strong too, with no explanation? and he’s the comic relief? ALSO HE’S REALLY HOT? woz is a being to behold honestly

speaking of super strong and really hot, yuko is KILLING IT in that gown. i mean...i guess that’s the intention. killing it. cuz she’s a homicidal maniac. haha.

she’s so good at pointing. yuko could be a prosecutor in shuichi kitaoka: ace attorney. (FUND IT)

yuko throws her manhole cover at the boys (rude!) and next we see geiz holding it. a shame we don’t get to see him snatch it out of midair. or did woz catch it and just hand it to him? we may never know.

zi-o. listen to geiz, zi-o. use the fucking watch. just use the watch, zi-o. you seriously plan on just letting another kiva go on a killing spree? do you not get by now what she’s capable of?

thank goodness zi-o has his retainers to make wise decisions so he doesn’t have to.

please note the placement of mars on ginga woz’s suit. very important.

I Love You

lmao

WHERE IS YOUR MANHOLE COVER NOW

my favorite character gets a beautiful rainbow final attack. i feel so blessed.

i mean...protecting all mankind would probably include protecting them from people like yuko. just sayin.

is it bad of me that my immediate thought right then was “at least woz’s attack wasn’t what did her in.”

this shot, especially in the context of the church, definitely gave me pieta vibes--albeit reversed somewhat.

weirdly enough, woz does an outro instead of an intro this episode.

at this point while watching, i said to shylax “you know what this calls for? pie!” but before i could finish--

--PIE! cmon sougo, it’s time to gobble up your feelings!

fucking woz, i swear, you have pie in your mouth and pie in your right hand and pie on your FACE and when your overlord expresses how miserable he is you just go for his uneaten pie with your empty hand.

...is it normal to eat pie like this in japan? because the only times i’ve seen americans make this much of a mess eating pie is when they’re toddlers.

oh hey, what do you know? looks like sougo’s first love wasn’t a violent crazy person after all. she also wasn’t yuko.

sougo’s just an idiot who will mistake any older woman who rubs him on the chin and calls him cute for his sailor girl.

previews!

i blame joshua kiryu

how eloquently this one line sums up not only kamen rider zi-o but kamen rider decade as well. that’s it, that’s the show. that’s the clusterfuck we will inevitably get whenever toei decides to make a kamen rider crossover.

LOOK AT THIS! TSUKUYOMI REMEMBERED SOMETHING! who is she smiling at? is it her dad? is that swartz behind her?! omg baby tsukuyomi is so CUTE!

“a team”. uh huh. is that what the youth are calling it these days? cuz when i was a wee lass, i believe they called it “fucking”.

so what have we learned this week?

very little about ginga

sougo does not remember faces all that well

before sougo dates ANYONE that person should be fully vetted by junichiro, geiz, tsukuyomi, and woz because CLEARLY HE CANNOT SAFELY CHOOSE A PARTNER FOR HIMSELF

i still really like yuko as a character, if not as a person. same as i enjoy junji ito manga, but would be very upset if most of it happened in real life.

swartz loves a woman who can kick his ass

what the fuck are manhole covers in this world

i can’t wait for baby tsukuyomi flashbacks! that, and more tsukasa.

#kamen rider zi o #drag yuko 2k19

[thehiddenlawyer]

A Brand New (Complete) Doctor Strange Fic!

At the request of @tsukuyomi011, I whipped up some more strange for all y’alls enjoyment!! Because of time constraints on my part, I simply posted all the chapters at once!!

Here, in allllllll it’s glory, Spells and Wild Abandoned Stars!

Summary:  Doctor Malick is giving a lecture in New York at a neurological society function when she sees Doctor Stephen Strange in the crowd. After 20 years of silence, 20 years of no contact between lovers, how did time disappear between them? How did 20 years of distance simply cease its existence with a simple touch of his lips to her cheek, a touch of his hand to hers, a smile? 20 years, and she was under his spell again.

A Taste:

When the lecture was over, Dr. Rayna Malick smiled at her colleagues, nodding her thanks at their applause as she gathered her notes from the lectern, her eyes easily finding him.

In her entire life, she had only ever had one him. A him that she could identify by just those three vague letters, without the necessity to properly identify him using a distinct first and last name. Just…him. Or he, depending on grammatical need.

And he was walking towards her now as she shook hands with the people on the dais, who congratulated her on her talk, on her empowering presence, on the way she had illuminated so much for them about emergency medicine in faraway places, in regions wracked with natural and man-made disasters. She didn’t know how and what she responded with to the people that complimented her, she was sure she said the right things, smiled and nodded the way she was supposed to, her notes clutched in her hands, her smile pasted on her face as he walked towards her. As always, he seemed to suck all the energy out of the room, a walking talking blackhole, she used to call him, because whenever he walked into a room, nothing else existed for her.

He always consumed her, always occupied her, always stretched himself within her very skin and scrambled her thoughts. It was a good thing she hadn’t spotted him during the lecture or he would have made her sound like an incompetent, nervous ass. Or whatever the opposite of accomplished neurosurgeon turned WHO ambassador was these days. Or the simple opposite of a composed, graceful, literate woman.

He turned her into a cavewoman, reduced her down to the most common denominator of biology. She always liked to entertain herself by imagining all her diplomas and commendations burning in a sacrificial pyre in front of him while he looked on imperiously with that tilted chin and big body that exuded arrogance and confidence.

He was a few feet from her now, looking more handsome than she remembered. And she was convinced that it had been impossible for him to look even more tantalizing than he normally did, than he did when she had first known him lifetimes, ages, eons ago. Age had settled into his features with a grace that made her envious, that had her eyes tracing the laugh lines and crow’s feet around his eyes and mouth, that had her looking at the gray at his temples with an appreciative smile. He looked more severe, more austere with the whitened temples, as if his physical form was finally catching up to the brain, the talent that he was known for. And in that black suit that fit his body like a glove, she wondered vaguely if he’d worn black on black because he’d remembered her weakness for it. Or if he’d worn a simple black tie instead of a bowtie because he’d remembered her preference for it.

Stephen Strange was aging like fine wine, and as she stood talking to the head of the neurological society that was throwing this little party, she wondered she looked like to him. Her hair was a deep red now from a bottle, cut short to a manageable length around her shoulders, now pulled back in a professional bun. She wondered if he saw the age lines on her face, saw them through the make-up she’d used to hide them, suddenly feeling shy that day about her age when she’d realized he was going to be at the dinner. Would he see how her body had changed with time, with age, with motherhood? Would he trace her features the way she had his? Would he even notice the black dress she wore with the velvet jacket over it, in her attempt to look elegant when she felt frumpy?

“Dr. Malick,” he grinned, his voice the same, incredibly soothing baritone that lived and breathed in her dreams, that haunted her and woke her up in the middle of the night, aroused beyond explanation, panting for him, and knowing there would never be a substitute for him.

“Stephen,” she grinned, shaking his hand, his long, eloquent fingers swallowing her hand whole, “must we stand on formality?” she murmured, looking into those cat-like, mercurial eyes, that beautiful, chiseled face that she had sketched with her pencil and with her fingertips, her lips, her tongue…so many nights in his arms, so many hours…

“I thought you’d prefer it,” he grinned at her, “if we’re dropping the titles then, I can greet you properly,” his eyes flashed as he leaned down, kissing her cheek even as he held her hand in his. She tried not to moan, not to react, not to weep or turn her face into the familiarity of his lips. How was it possible? After all these years, to still become breathless in his presence, to still remember the texture of his lips?

“That’s better,” she laughed, “how are you, Stephen? I must say, I’m surprised to see you here!”

“I make it a point to come to functions featuring an old friend,” his smile was the same, wondrous to behold, transforming his entire face into light even as it melted his perfect jaw line to multiple chins of mirth.

“Old friends,” she rolled her eyes.

“Polite term,” he grinned.

She vaguely wondered what that impolite term for them would be. Lovers? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? She looked deep into his eyes and couldn’t make herself reduce their relationship to callus words and phrases that didn’t quite reflect what they’d shared. They had been each other’s rock, she knew that, but she’d never fooled herself into thinking they would be anything else. It had been the strangest relationship she could imagine, physically demanding, emotionally taxing and simultaneously satisfying her to her core. But they had lived together with the knowledge that there was a temporariness to everything between them, that the peace they found together was just a brief lapse in judgement.

Her thoughts were momentarily interrupted as a pair of surgeons walked up, introducing themselves and looking at Stephen in wonder. She felt grateful that she could melt into his shadow for just a few moments, knowing that anyone would be overshadowed by the Great Stephen Strange. Rayna didn’t mind standing next to him, listening to the confident way he accepted praise, knowing fully well he deserved every single one and making no qualms about it.

“How do you two know each other?” Dr. Simpson was asking, looking at Rayna.

“We did our residency together at New York Gen under Dr. Walsh,” she answered the elderly surgeon, accepting the glass of wine the waiter offered them.

“I didn’t realize!” Dr. Simpson looked astonished, her eyes on Stephen, and Rayna could relate to the feminine appreciation she saw.

“Rayna was always the better doctor,” Stephen was saying, one hand casually in his pocket, his long fingers wrapped around the squat class of whiskey he’d had the waiter bring him, “always gave me a run for my money. Thank God she didn’t stick around or I’d have serious competition,” they all chuckled at the comment and she saw the astonishment that flared in the eyes of the doctors in the little circle that had convened around them. To think that there was another doctor, another surgeon that Dr. Stephen Strange would admit to being inferior to.

But then, whatever impermanence they’d shared, she could at least say they stripped each other of ego.

Rayna’s thoughts drifted as she listened and responded mechanically to the conversation around her, catching his eye every once in a while, watching those crinkles at the edges of his eyes when he smiled for her, winking at her in the secret way he always did. Back in the old days, he would wink at her like that at parties too, or even while they were in class or at work, and she knew it would mean he was going to catch her alone somewhere and devour her. And oh, how she loved it when he feasted on her.

She remembered their little crappy apartment in New York, the cramped space somehow seeming infinite when he was around, every surface seemed to be covered with medical textbooks and notebooks, a pair of scrubs always on display somewhere, announcing to the world that two medical residents lived there. Rayna, a neat freak, would work tirelessly to make sure their place was clean but it always looked disastrous, an inexplicable, permanent hurricane seemed to live in their place. She remembered the warm nights when she’d be studying outside, sitting on the fire escape, listening to the sounds of the city as she studied and strived, the way he’d crawl nimbly out of the window and sit next to her. She’d always put the book and highlighter away and lean back in his arms, and they’d simply breath together.

Looking back now, older and wiser, with enough life experience under her belt to last a regular person thousands of lifetimes, she realized they’d been happy because they knew it wasn’t going to last between them. They had held each other, made love to each other, breathed for each other with the knowledge that there was an end date. And she’d been the one to say good-bye, signing up with Doctors Without Borders not long after she’d completed her residency, and she would forever remember the way he’d kissed her good-bye at the airport.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked her now, leaning down, his words for her alone, “catch up a little? Talk about the old times? Unless you’re too much of a hot shot right now and can’t be bothered with an old friend.”

Old friend.

She laughed, “sure!” she smiled, “I guess I can make time for you if I must,” she looked at the other doctors they’d been talking, “excuse us.”

*cough @sobeautifullyobsessed cough*

#spells and wild abandoned stars #doctor strange #doctor strange fanfic #doctor strange fanfiction #my writing #stephen strange #stephen strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfiction #pre-Doctor Strange (2016) #OFC #original female character #Doctor Strange x OFC #Rayna and Stephen

[keldae]

Phobia

It was a closely guarded secret that Xaja Taerich, Jedi Battlemaster and Alliance Commander, the Hero of Tython, Outlander, Irritator of Valkorion, Downfall of Two Zakuulan Emperors (to date) and Persistent Thorn In Vaylin’s Side, had three severe phobias. The number of people who knew the specifics of said phobias were limited to a very few certain trusted (or snoopy) individuals.

First, there was the fear of carbonite. Xaja still had nightmares about being trapped in a carbon freezing chamber while still being fully conscious, something that Theron could attest to. Given her past history, it was a perfectly reasonably phobia that mostly everyone in the base had at least a suspicion of. And the first thing Arcann had done when he’d arrived on Odessen and had managed to not get shot by Xaja’s security detail (mostly consisting of her father and brothers) was apologize profusely for his imprisonment of her, even going to his knees. Theron suspected the former Emperor was still apologising, and probably would be for the rest of his life. That was to be expected, as he was pretty sure Xaja hadn’t quite forgiven him for that yet. Theron himself most certainly hadn’t.

Then there was the fear of shock collars and restraints. That had been a fear of Xaja’s from long before Zakuul’s invasion. Theron suspected it’d had something to do with Vitiate’s first imprisonment of her back when her Jedi strike team had been overwhelmed and put under Sith mind control. Xaja had been quite unwilling to talk about it, but Reanden (who’d managed to infiltrate the station where she was being held and eventually helped free her) had hinted at shock collars being used to torture the Jedi prisoners. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it either, and Theron knew better than to push the older spy on the subject.

He’d also learned pretty quickly how little Xaja liked being bound when they were in bed together, no matter what other kinks she might have been interested in. But that was something for another day.

The third phobia was far more mundane, and couldn’t be explained back to any past trauma (that Xaja could recall)- and really, if it was anyone except the Alliance Commander who openly admitted to having this particular fear, there would have been sympathy and understanding from her peers… okay, and probably some merciless teasing. But Xaja firmly believed she had to give off the image of being invulnerable and strong around her alliance members, despite Theron’s insistences to the contrary.

Which was how Theron found himself being urgently summoned to Xaja’s quarters (unofficially known as their quarters) on an otherwise ordinary afternoon about two days after Arcann had defected to Odessen. Brushing off the laughter from Koth at what that ‘urgent summoning’ could possibly be from the pretty Commander, Theron strode out of the war room, turned left down the hallway, and palmed open Xaja’s door without the need for knocking.

Dirtier minds on Odessen might have, upon hearing of the Commander’s midday summoning of her known lover (honestly, the worst-kept secret in Wild Space), imagined the pretty red-haired woman lounging in a seductive pose wearing something less than her normal light armoured uniform. Such minds would have been surprised to see that same Commander, in her normal gear, pressed up against a wall and staring in mute terror at a small dark spot on her couch’s headrest. Theron sighed as he walked up beside his lover and lightly touched her shoulder, making her start. “At least you called me before HK this time?”

“It’s fast,” Xaja whispered, still staring at the offending intrusion without so much as a smile for Theron. “It’s fast and it’s huge and probably toxic and it’s pure evil on eight legs.”

“Ah.” Theron sagely nodded. “Valkorion’s found a new way to torment you, has he?”

Xaja made some sort of strangled whimper that sounded like affirmation, then looked up at Theron with the most pleading expression she could muster. “Kill it? Please?”

As if Theron would have ever been able to deny Xaja anything, even as he sighed and cautiously approached the couch, eyeing the source of his lover’s terror with a glare. “Theron Shan, former Jedi trainee, former top SIS agent, current operations director for the Odessen Alliance, and head of the Commander’s personal Spider Killing Squad,” he said over his shoulder with a chuckle. “I think we might have to talk about a pay raise for my newest job here.”

“Theron!” Xaja didn’t find that half as funny as he did.

“Sorry, love.” Theron slowly removed one of his boots, then resumed his cautious advance toward the couch. The spider shifted slightly, a dark blob against the blues and greys of the fabric. “That’s it, beastie…” Theron muttered under his breath as he slowly lifted his weapon of choice against the spider. What else were boots made for, anyway? “Just stay right there…”

The spider had to have been Force sensitive and aware of Theron’s intentions, because it hauled itself away a nanosecond before Theron’s boot could smush it into an unrecognizable pile of dead arachnid and vanished down the side of the couch.

Xaja emitted a sharp, terrified squeak as she darted further away from her contaminated couch. “Where is it?!”

Theron swore eloquently as he quickly hobbled around the couch, hazel eyes darting around. There- that looked to be a suspiciously spider-like leg halfway under the furniture. Theron stomped down with the foot that wasn’t clad in only an unprotected sock, and growled as the spider retreated further under the couch. “Get back here, you son of a-”

The door slid open, and Lana poked her blonde head in. “Commander, there’s been a- what’s going on?” she asked, observing the scene in front of her.

“Spider,” was all Xaja squeaked out by way of explanation.

Theron heard a sharp intake of breath, and then a noise that sounded suspiciously like Lana had just grabbed Xaja’s arm. The Sith was the only person on the base more afraid of spiders than Xaja was. “What?! Where? Is it dead?!”

“Working on it, ladies!” Theron raised his head and scowled at the wall. “Can one of you get HK? I need that concentrated cleaning solution he had on the Gravestone.”

“Not a flamethrower?” Lana asked.

“It’s the only way to be sure,” Xaja agreed, eyes wide and face pale.

“Hey, I live in this room too, I’d like to keep this furniture intaAAGH!” Theron jumped as the spider picked that moment to run across his sock-clad foot and make a break for safety under Xaja’s bed. Frack this, the spy thought as he dropped his boot and made for a blaster, ignoring both Jedi and Sith screeching behind him as they caught sight of their most feared and hated nemesis.

The spider had almost made it to safety before Theron’s shot at close range nailed it, ending its ability to cause further terror on the base. The spy reholstered his blaster, tugged his boot back on, and turned to exit the room, trying to not shake his head at Xaja and Lana, who were both still clinging to each other and staring at the smoking remains of the offending spider. “You’re welcome,” he said as he let himself out.

Go figure, Arcann and Koth were both right outside the door, both looking alternately like they were sizing each other up for a fight and bewildered at what was going on in the Commander’s quarters. “Was that… blaster fire?” Arcann asked in confusion.

Theron thought about just saying the truth, and then rationalized that Xaja would probably never forgive him for telling Arcann about one of her phobias. “Weapon malfunction,” was all he said.

“... Connected to Lana screaming like a banshee?” Koth craned his head at the door curiously, then looked at Theron with an evil grin. “What kind of weapon malfunction are we talkin’ here? You weren’t summoned very long, after all- OW!”

“Shut up, Koth.” Theron gifted the Zakuulan with a glare as he returned to the war room, hearing Arcann stifle a snort (poorly) and having to endure the curious glances everyone else gave him as he returned to his station. The things I do for her…

His musings were interrupted by Xaja’s loud screech that could be heard quite clearly without the need for a com. “THERON! THERE’S ANOTHER!”

Theron sighed and started walking back to her quarters with snickers from the rest of the command staff echoing behind him, tapping his ear implant to bring up HK’s frequency. “Get to the Commander’s quarters, and bring your favourite spider-killing cleaning solution,” he growled out. “Before she and Lana tear the place apart trying to get rid of all the spiders themselves.”

#otp #Theron Shan x Jedi Knight #Theron Shan #Lana Beniko #Xaja #because spiders are evil #phobia #cross-posted from FFN #swtor #swtor oc #odessen

[dailyhockeyimagines]

anders lee // tinder

requested by @thunder-strome

warnings: none

who: anders lee x reader

premise: just as you are about to give up on online dating, a certain guy comes around and changes things for the better

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Your thumb lingered over the app in your dock until it shook, a small “x” appearing in the corner, inviting you to escape the weird messages and men that came with Tinder. You had already deleted all of the other apps your friends had downloaded on your phone on a whim, but for some reason you were finding it hard to delete Tinder. Maybe it was fate that made up your mind to keep the app that day, or maybe you just didn’t care enough either way, but, no matter the explanation, you were happy that you did.

As a graduate student, time was not your friend. You were just about always writing a paper or handing in some other work for your professor, barely ever making time for the things you loved, like hockey and your friends. So of course you never had time to do the things you didn’t love, like dating per se. It’s not like you really had anything against love it was just that the process of dating was fake and draining to you, so you really couldn’t get behind missing out on a game or a night out with your friends to awkwardly laugh and sip wine with a guy you didn’t know.

Your room mates in your small Brooklyn apartment, as much as you loved them, didn’t understand this. And while they couldn’t force you to go put yourself out there in the real world, they could make an online profile for you on just about every site out there. Could and would.

One Saturday morning, you awoke to dozens of e-mails confirming your accounts from everyone from Match.com to Christian mingle. Before you could yell at your friends, they persuaded you to just try it out. And, yeah, you were a bit curious.

You gave every account a sliver of your time, tossing some out earlier than others, but being disappointed in all of them. Every guy was a cardboard cut out of each other, each pulling stupid pick up lines out of their asses in a futile attempt to get in your pants. Eventually, you were left with just one: Tinder. The easiest and most casual of them all. Also the biggest joke of them all. It was a long shot to expect to find anyone decent on Tinder, but, as an English major, you happened to be a bit more hopeful than most.

You found that your eyes were getting tired as you swiped mindlessly through drunken smiles and mirror selfies. You matched with a few people, but, upon hearing their opening lines, quickly unmatched with them. You were about to give up when one photo stopped you. 

Bright eyes and a kind, familiar smile met you gleefully, as you were mesmerized by the curves under his cheek bones. You knew this boy. You had to have known this boy. He was so familiar... you just couldn’t place it. 

Andrew, 26.

While the age matched up with yours, you couldn’t remember every knowing any Andrews– maybe a drunken college hookup? It was killing you inside, but all you could to do now was swipe right and pray that he would do the same.

The next morning when you wake up, you eagerly (maybe too eagerly) check your notifications to see if you and this Andrew matched. And now, for the moment of truth, you prayed he wasn’t a douche.

You spent a little longer than you cared to admit typing out a message to him, carefully wording eloquent sentences until you deleted it all and sent a hurried:

do I know you??? 

Minutes later, your phone made a short ringing tone that you would soon come to love. 

                                      not yet. but we can change that, if you want to

Okay so you had to admit he was pretty good. It wasn’t inherently sexual but it was still a sexy response. He was clever. You maybe liked him too much already.

maybe I do...

                                      well that’s convenient cause I want to get to know you

You spend another hour or so in your bed, smiling at your phone and his words that make you laugh and warm your heart at the same time. You really liked him already. You had both established that there was never a place in your life where you could have over lapped, but there was still something so familiar about him. 

Eventually your roommates come in, demanding you to explain why you are so blushy all of a sudden, but you refused to tell them. You’d tell them if anything more happened. For now, you two were just talking. 

And talk you did. Basically every waking moment, you were checking your phone and thinking of cute things to say. You two had moved on from texting on the tinder app to actually texting, and, sometimes, talking on the phone or over face time.

You were confident enough in what you had with Andrew that you deleted the app, the last evidence of your friend’s plan of finding you love. They were disappointed when they noticed, but little did they know that for the first time, their love plan may have actually worked. You told them about Andrew out of pity, thriving as they gushed at his sweet texts and cute photos. You were hesitant about showing them at first because you were afraid to admit that they were right, but were happy to have someone to be giddy with about him now.

You especially were excited when you got a package from him in the mail. Your friends gathered around you as you opened it, just as anxious as you about its contents.

Inside the box, you find two front row tickets to the next islanders game and it takes all of your willpower not to scream. It’s okay though, because your friends do it for you. They jump up and down with excitement, feeling particularly accomplished as match makers and self proclaimed bridesmaids for your wedding with Andrew. You roll your eyes at them, but their excitement is what your feeling internally. You had briefly mentioned to Andrew your love of hockey, but you hadn’t expected him to remember. And you had certainly not expected this.

With the tickets is a short note that reads: “I think it’s time for us to finally meet in person...bundle up!”. You fold the note up and shove it in your pocket as you rush to get ready for tonight’s game.

You arrive to the stadium early to wait for him, seeing as you had both of the tickets. The islander fans rush past you, shoving you a bit as they go, but you stand your ground, waiting for Andrew.

A decent chunk of time has passed and you are a little worried about him not showing up, but you hold out acting irrationally and continue waiting, checking your message-less phone frequently.

It’s not until five minutes into the first period that you give up and decide to go in on your own. You are upset– okay, more than upset. You really thought the two of you had something good. But you aren’t one to waste so you decide to watch the game, with or without Andrew.

The seats are incredible, and there are moments where you feel like you are on the ice with the players. The first period so far is tense but scoreless. You would normally be loving everything at the moment, yelling with the crowd and staring intently at the ice, but you were feeling increasingly lonely as the game went on.

Even when the islanders scored, you couldn’t give yourself longer than a moment of happiness before feeling sad again.

You were considering leaving as the announcer yelled the name of the scorer, some player you recognized named Anders Lee.

Before you could turn away, a figure was skating your way, taking off of his helmet, and seemingly pointing at you. And the player was...Andrew? In that moment, it all made sense. That’s why he looked so familiar! Andrew was Anders, a hockey player! He didn’t ditch you at all... he was there all along!

The rest of the game passed quickly, the islanders winning 2-0 against the flyers. You rushed to the locker rooms after the game, waiting for Anders to come out. You didn’t know what to think. On one hand, everything was perfect: you were on the verge of dating a hot hockey player, he didn’t stand you up and he liked you. But on the other hand...he had lied to you. And maybe it was harmless, but you still had trust issues and it seemed like a red flag. 

When he did come out, a grin on his face and a hand running through his wet hair, he came over to hug you. You were excited, as much as he was, but you couldn’t show it yet. You had to figure out what to think.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)? You don’t like my surprise” he said, his voice sounding impossibly cuter in real life than it did over the muffled phone.

“It’s just that Andrew, er, Anders, it’s that you lied to me! How can I trust anything that happened now?” He frowned a little, his eyebrows furrowing together in a way that made him look way more attractive than he deserved to.

“(Y/N), I lied about my name. That’s all. Everything else was real... but I understand that you might not want to start a relationship off a lie. So let’s start over. Hi, I’m Anders. I’m sorry, but do I know you?” he said, his lips turning up into a smile.

You giggle a little at the words, the same ones you had initially sent to him forever ago. 

“Not yet” you say, stepping closer to him. “But we can change that, if you want to”

“I know we just met, but I really want to kiss you” he said, so softly it was almost a whisper.

You close the gap between you two, kissing him softly at first before melting completely into his lips. Kissing him is everything you had imagined it would be and more. Any anger from before had completely dispersed because Anders was right. Other than his name, he was the exact same guy you had messaged. He also happened to play hockey. Either way, Andrew or Anders, he was great, and you weren’t going to walk away.

#anders lee #anders lee imagine #new york islanders #new york islanders hockey #ny islanders #ny islanders hockey #ny islanders imagine #ny islanders imagines #new york islanders imagine #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #imagine #imagines

[squirenonny]

Heith Week - “Hold On” (Part 2)

Day 7: Free Day

This is a continuation of yesterday’s ficlet [link]. Warning for the after effects of serious injury and quite a lot of blood.

[Read on AO3]

Keith sat vigil outside Hunk’s cryopod through the night. The others all tried to pull him away, each with their own approach. Shiro squeezed his shoulder and offered to keep watch while Keith was away, Pidge shuffled their feet and pointed out that they could all see the timer counting down to the end of the healing cycle, Coran tried to physically wrestle him toward the door, and Allura got all stern-faced as she tried to reason with him, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the strain around her eyes and the way she clutched at the collar of her armor.

It was Lance, strangely enough, who convinced Keith to go shower and eat. “You think Hunk would want you starving yourself? You think he wants to wake up to find you moping in a puddle of his blood?”

Lance’s voice cracked on the last word, and he turned, huffing a few breaths as he struggled to regain his composure, and whatever argument Keith might have made evaporated. He glanced once more at Hunk’s still form in the pod—there was entirely too much red, and his skin looked ashen and waxy, and Keith had to turn away before the room started to spin so much he passed out. He caught Shiro’s eye, opened his mouth to ask—to beg—to—

“Go on,” Shiro said, sitting down with his back to Hunk’s pod. “I’ll take my turn until you get back.”

So Keith left, shedding his bloody armor in the med bay so the castle could clean and sanitize it, then staggering back to his room. He collapsed in his shower, sitting beneath the scalding spray. The heat reminded him too much of the feel of Hunk’s blood flowing between his fingers. Hands shaking, he reached up and twisted the knob all the way to the right.

The water turned frigid, shocking the air right out of Keith’s lungs, but he forced himself to stay, scrubbing at his face, at the handful of patches of violet still darkening his arms. As long as he didn’t look right at them, he could almost imagine they were bruises.

Allura had assured him the transformation was temporary, and that it likely would never get worse than this—simply the result of his Quintessence raging out of control. He didn’t understand how, and he doubted any explanation would have sunk in, as messed up as he was right now. So he was glad when the others hadn’t made an issue of it.

Lance came knocking some indeterminate amount of time later, his tentative voice lost to the rush of water. Keith sighed, but forced himself to stand.

“I’m coming, Lance,” he said as he shut off the water. “Give me a minute.”

Keith glanced in the mirror only reluctantly, and breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw he was back to normal. He felt drained, physically and emotionally, and he wasn’t sure how many more minor thorns he could take before the floodgates broke.

When Keith finally pulled on his shirt and ventured out of the bathroom, he found Lance sitting on his bed, a bowl of food goo held loosely in his hands. A second bowl sat on the nightstand. Keith’s stomach turned at the sight, but he grabbed the bowl anyway and sat beside Lance, stirring the goo with his spoon.

“Not hungry?” Lance asked with a weak smile.

Keith shook his head. “I can’t get the image out of my head. It—he… That was a lot of blood.”

It wasn’t just the blood, of course. They’d all seen their fair share of wounds, and more than a few that had gushed. Not even Hunk got this messed up over a little blood anymore. But seeing Hunk like that—limp, eyes unfocused. It was wrong. Viscerally, horrifically wrong. Hunk was life and sunshine and warm smiles. Hunk was a tight hug and encouraging words shouted across a room and a laugh that loosened the stress that always seemed on the verge of strangling.

He wasn’t supposed to look so hollow.

“Thanks,” Lance said. He had a spoonful of goo lifted halfway to his lips. Rather than eat it, though, he just grimaced and lowered it back to the bowl. He looked up, meeting Keith’s eyes. “For getting him out of there.”

“I… Of course,” Keith said. His mind was running too slow to come up with a more eloquent response, and he shoved his spoon into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow as his stomach turned over. “What, you think I would’ve let him die?”

Lance smiled, and Keith’s half-roused anger fizzled out. “I know you wouldn’t.” He took a deep breath, then started eating. He, like Keith, seemed determined to finish as quickly as possible so they could get back to Hunk. But when Keith shoved his empty bowl into the tube that led back down to the kitchens and headed for the door, Lance caught him by the wrist.

Keith turned.

“You want some company tonight?” he asked. “Cause I don’t think I’d be able to sleep, anyway.”

Keith blinked, taking in the redness of Lance’s eyes, the way his damp hair formed furrows. Cautiously, Kieth offered a smile. “Sure,” he said. “I’d like that.”

To his surprise, Keith actually ended up dozing sometime around dawn. The others had stayed for a while, but Allura and Coran had a castle to care for, and Shiro had left when Pidge finally passed out around midnight—early by their standards, but they were all exhausted after the day’s trials. Lance had stayed, though. He’d stayed, and he hadn’t even really tried to talk. Just sat beside Keith at the foot of Hunk’s cryopod and occasionally hummed quietly.

Keith woke to incessant beeping. He jerked, dislodging Lance’s head from his shoulder, and blinked at the iridescent glow of the castle’s lighting.

“Good morning, Three and Four,” Coran chirped, glancing up from the central console.

Lance sat upright, his hair sticking up at odd angles, and yawned. “Wha…?” Suddenly his eyes widened. “Hunk!” He shot to his feet, nearly overbalancing and smashing his face on the floor. Keith stood somewhat more gracefully and helped Lance find his balance, and both turned toward Hunk.

He was looking worlds better than he had last night, his color back to its usual warm bronze, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Keith shot a glance at Coran. “Is he…?”

“Scans look super,” Coran said, beaming. “Should be just about time for him to pop out.”

Shiro, Pidge, and Allura burst in just before the pod gave one final beep. Then the glass flickered and vanished, and Keith surged forward just in time to grab Hunk as he toppled.

“You’re okay,” Keith said, ashamed to hear his voice wavering. “Take it slow.”

Hunk blinked, groaned, then squinted at Keith. “What… Keith?”

Keith smiled, his vision blurring. “Hey.”

“What happened? Was I in the cryopod? Why…?” He paused, eyes focusing. He paled, grasping at his side with the hand that wasn’t squeezing Keith’s shoulder in a death grip.

“You gave us all a scare,” Shiro said gently. “How are you feeling?”

Seeming to realize that he wasn’t bleeding out anymore, Hunk stared around the room. “Fine,” he said. “I’m fine, really.”

Keith snorted, glaring at the floor as his emotions warred in his chest, a tempest threatening to spill out if he let his control slip for an instant. “I thought you were dead,” he said. It sounded like an accusation; he knew this. But he didn’t know how to make it sound like anything else.

Hunk was quiet, and Keith could feel those warm, dark eyes on the top of his head. He didn’t want to meet them, didn’t want to remember the way they’d stared right through him last night as Hunk started to fade. Tremors wracked his body and, struggling just to breathe, Keith buried his face in Hunk’s chest. He didn’t say a word, but Hunk understood what he needed and wrapped his arms around Keith in a warm, secure hold.

“I’m still here.” The words, spoken into Keith’s hair, made his scalp tingle, and he squeezed Hunk around the middle, reminding himself that the worst hadn’t happened. Hunk was okay. Keith wasn’t losing him.

He didn’t look up from Hunk’s chest as the others crowded in to welcome him back to the land of the living, though it meant Lance and Pidge both jostled him. Shiro, at least, was careful to give him space, and the Alteans kept their distance.

Before the relief had fully settled in, Keith found himself stumbling back to Hunk’s room. He still had his arm under Hunk’s shoulder, though he couldn’t have said which of them was supporting the other. The castle seemed to be flying on a tilt, and Keith couldn’t make his hands stop shaking.

They fell into bed together, Keith landing atop Hunk and grunting disapproval as Hunk shifted, leaving a cold emptiness as Keith slid onto the mattress. But Hunk returned a moment later, tugging the blankets up over them, and Keith didn’t care for one second that it was eight o’clock in the morning and training was due to start in an hour. Hunk was here. Hunk was safe.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Keith said. The words came out garbled, muffled by Hunk’s shirt and the steady, grounding pulse of his heartbeat.

Hunk’s chest rose and fell, and he pulled back, ducking his head until Keith had no choice but to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry I worried you,” Hunk said. “If it helps, I always knew you’d get there in time.”

Keith huffed out. His emotions were too much of a mess to decide if he was flattered or exasperated or just so, so tired. He crossed his arms on Hunk’s chest, plastered his best scowl on his face.

“If you ever scare me like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”

Hunk grinned. “Love you too, Keith.”

His hand slid along the back of Keith’s neck, and he pulled him down into a kiss.

#heith week #heithweek2017 #voltron #ch: i know who i am #ch: this kid is a genius #otp: galra keith is way funnier than regular keith

[clonecept-blog]

About Melissa

Leadership isn’t something that people are necessarily born with. Leadership is developed over time; it’s not something that just happens like it does for some people. I think it’s natural to expect the same sort of confidence and ability to lead that Supergirl has but Melissa isn’t her character.

We forget that actors read lines that are written by other people to embody their characters, to look self-assured on screen, but in an unscripted and chaotic environment, they can be just as awkward and inarticulate as any normal human being. How many times have you laid in bed at night, reliving a horrible conversation and wishing you had said some witty and articulate remark you thought of 12 hours later?

In interviews, she almost always lets her cast mates answer the questions unless she’s directly asked. This is especially obvious when Chyler is interviewing or on the panel with her. She’s probably really uncomfortable with interviews. Quite frankly, so would I, given that everything she says has been scrutinized and she’s apparently alienated a lot of people who have judged her based on a sentence or two that may have been misconstrued in a way that was not how she had meant.

I don’t think that she should be judged based on one interview that crashed and burned. Could she have been a better advocate in that conversation? Yes, absolutely. I just don’t think she was well-equipped to take control of the conversation and steer it in a way that people might expect a leader to. She’s also the youngest cast member; given her reluctance in interviews, I don’t think it’s much of a leap to suggest that perhaps she was out of her depth.

And really, controlling your cast mates in cast interviews isn’t necessarily included in the job description. Maybe it should be. But all we see is the “should have, would have, could have,” and it’s not fair to judge someone based on a few awkward actions or words, even if it is on a widely broadcasted media.

I think she commands the respect of her cast mates because of her work ethic. Within the context of the working and set environment, that’s more than enough. She doesn’t need to do anything more. Once you change the context though, everything’s a bit of a toss-up. You can’t really show that you’re “working hard” in an interview where you’re supposed to look like you’re relaxed and chatting.

Regarding the “that’s brave” comment - I don’t think that was meant to be interpreted as her saying that it was brave to mock and invalidate LGBT shippers and viewers. What I do think it was responding to was the ship war between Karamel and Supercorp and the amount of nasty messages that they have received on social media. Was it an ill-advised comment? Yes. Was it a poor choice of words? Definitely.

I know a lot of people dislike Chris’ conduct in interviews. It has always baffled me that they are dating (like, what does she see in him?) but if he makes her happy, then I’m happy for her. I could be reading into things way too much but I think the quote from Perks of Being a Wallflower is really applicable (or I could be giving her too much credit, I don’t know).

We accept the love we think we deserve.

Or you know, maybe it’s just a rebound relationship that isn’t meant to last.

Maybe I’m an apologist. Or maybe I just empathize with her too much. But what this interview indicates to me is that she’s just not a natural leader and she’s got something that she needs to work on. She should be allowed to make mistakes without being vilified for it, particularly when there isn’t any evidence of malicious intent behind anything she said.

The conversation of the interview was incredibly problematic (thank you to the interviewer who gave them an opportunity to redeem themselves which was subsequently derailed horribly) and largely a result of the cast speaking from a place of privilege, ignorance, and a case of foot-in-mouth disease. I hope that she’ll have something more positive to say or an explanation of some sort in the near future to clarify any misunderstandings. Maybe once she gets back to Vancouver, talks to Chyler, consults Katie, etc. and treat this as a learning experience and grow from it.

At the end of the day, Melissa is just a young actor trying to make it in a cut-throat industry without a pre-developed or natural gift for eloquence and poise.

#supergirl #sdcc 2017 #melissa benoist #mtv #interview #don't hate me #be civil #discourse #respect #unpopular opinion #this made more sense in my head

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

An Unpopular Opinion About Oswald Cobblepot

This opinion is not for everyone. I won’t hate you if you don’t read it.

But if you were offended, hurt, or confused by Robin Lord Taylor’s interview where he stated that Oswald couldn’t love? I think this may be worth reading.

First of all, I want to apologize to Robin. Because, at the time, I didn’t know what he meant and leapt to conclusions about why he would say such a thing. I am now reasonably certain Robin was talking about this episode, 3x14 “The Gentle Art of Making Enemies.” The episode we learn that Oswald can’t love. “But he sacrificed himself for Ed!!!” I know, I know... and yes, that is the first step as Oswald begins to understand what love truly is, and not just in Ed’s eyes, but the actual emotional and mental requirements of love. But he doesn’t love Ed. Yet. Robin’s statement, too, should have been amended to say yet, if it helps.

Now please, hear me out, and understand this doesn’t come from a place of hate or retribution. I am not trying to bully Oswald nor anyone who loves or identifies with him. One could call me biased in Ed’s favor, and you’d be right. I will own that, and if you want to discredit what I’m saying based on that, go ahead, but please read to the end first.

I am a devout Nygmobblepot shipper as well as you and I want nothing more than to see this relationship do well and I think it can! I have TREMENDOUS hope for it and I truly believe the show is heading us in that direction, even now. Yes, even now, and I think the events as I describe them here only reinforce that. And the last thing I want to do is label the ship ‘problematic,’ I want it to be healthy. And that’s... why I’m making this post. Because currently their relationship isn’t healthy, yes, even considering Oswald’s sacrifice. But it can be, it REALLY can, and I so want it to be.

So... misgivings and disclaimers out of the way, I’ve given you all the warning I can that this is going to hurt. I'm just going to proceed now.

There’s been some posts going around tumblr that were bothering me. They were gifsets comparing Fish Mooney’s creation speech to Oswald in 3x02 to Oswald’s creation speech to Ed in 3x14. And they bothered me because, while the text might be similar, the intent could not be more diametrically opposed. And, I could be wrong, people might have been spreading them around to see the contrast, but I saw a lot of people treating the speeches as if they were similar, if not identical. I beg your patience to let me disagree with that claim and dissect them for a minute.

Superficially, one can argue that they both use the “I created you” emotional manipulation ploy to save their own skins. As they are both being held at gunpoint at the time. But I don’t think this is true in either case. Fish tells Oswald the truth because she has no reason not to and she is already out of time. Even if Oswald doesn’t shoot her, there’s no guarantee on her lifespan, so what does she have to gain by lying to him? Besides which, if she does die... he is what she leaves behind. And she is, actually, proud of that. In this moment, she accepts him, as her son and heir, and gives him the right to kill her, if he so chooses. She says,

Because you’re mine. You were my umbrella boy, remember? You rubbed my feet when they were tired. And now look at you: the terror of Gotham. Everything I’ve done in my life, possibly the best thing, was turning Oswald Cobblepot into the Penguin. I couldn’t destroy that.

And it’s worth noting that she only says this in response to a direct question, when Oswald demands an explanation for why he’s not dead right now.  She says all of this to wind up at ‘I couldn’t destroy that.’ Now that’s... not why Oswald says what he says.

When I met you, you were a nervous, jittery loser. You were nothing! I created Edward Nygma! And I am the only one in the world who truly sees you as you are, who you can still become. You can’t do this.

Seeing them back to back, free of the heartbreaking images, kinda makes the difference more stark doesn’t it?

First of all, Ed didn’t ask anything, he stated “You killed her, so you die” and this is how Oswald responds. He responds with tearing Ed down, by making him feel small and powerless. By insisting he needs him, that Ed needs Oswald to be powerful, even just to be himself. And it’s significant that Oswald offers this as a defense of why he should live, why Ed shouldn’t kill him.

And true, Fish brings up where Oswald started, her umbrella boy, but NOT to tear him down! She does it to say ‘look how far you’ve come.’ She moves past it to show his progress. Because it’s his PROGRESS she’s proud of, it’s the man he is now that Fish accepts and... in a sense, would die for. Oswald doesn’t do that. He doesn’t get beyond reminding Ed what he was and, pointedly, reminding him who’s responsible for making him more than that. In a way, he’s saying Ed owes him. But he’s definitely saying Ed’s nothing without him.

And that’s not what Fish said. Fish has been gone, out of Oswald’s life for a year, she’s had no hold on him, and she’s remarking on what he’s done in the meantime. When she says ‘I created you’ she means she enabled his becoming, gave him the tools, taught him the steps, then stood back and watched him flourish. True, she was... dead most of that time, but besides the point. She is not making him feel like he owes her, she’s just taking credit, not even credit, pride for her part in him, not the whole, and not his achievements, which are his and his solely. Again, this is not what Oswald does. Oswald brings Ed back to the beginning purely to make him feel like he needs Oswald, purely to manipulate Ed into not shooting him. Oswald isn’t proud of him, at least he doesn’t say so here. Oswald doesn’t laud Ed’s achievements, he doesn’t even mention them. He only says that if Ed wants to continue being whatever he is now, he needs Oswald with him. That’s... that’s not pride. It’s not even healthy as he’s literally saying Ed cannot function independently. Which is patently untrue, as Ed’s run him in circles for the past week.

Just look at where they end. In the end, Fish justifies her OWN inaction and gives Oswald permission to take whatever action he feels is necessary. Oswald, on the other hand, FORBIDS Ed’s action, won’t let Ed decide what’s best for himself, tries to trap him in this manufactured need. Oswald does not accept and has not accepted Ed’s decisions for some time. And that, at the heart of it all, is what Ed is most mad about. Oswald didn’t accept his choice of girlfriend. Oswald didn’t accept how he dealt with his grief. Oswald didn’t accept his resignation. Oswald didn’t accept him WALKING OUT on him. Let’s be real, all Oswald does after that is complain how Ed’s not here, calls him obsessively, and whines about getting him back. Oswald hasn’t accepted a single goddamn decision of Ed’s that he didn’t like, which was... all of them. And sure, any single one of these moments is perhaps trivial, but look at what’s underlying it: Oswald will not accept Ed’s autonomy. And he’s not doing it again here.

Now, HERE it makes sense because, you know, Ed’s gonna kill him. Literally has a gun pointed at his chest and has said many times that... he’s going to kill Oswald. Except... Oswald hasn’t acted in self-preservation for the entire episode. Most notably in JUST the previous scene Oswald completely turns coat on self-preservation and would rather give up his own life than give up Ed. Which complicates things a bit. And that’s what puzzled me about Oswald’s speech on the docks, because normally I’d chalk it up to self-preservation. Only, when Oswald really IS out to save his own skin, he’s a LOT better at it. And it was just proven to us that Oswald in fact isn’t here to save himself. Because he loves Ed. At least, he’d die for him. So, what’s this about? Why would Oswald cut him down like this if he loves him? And he’s not actively trying to survive?

Well, my dear @amaranthineexcuse​ had the answer and so tenderly and eloquently puts it, much better than I ever could have:

Oswald wants to cripple Ed so that he'll stay with him. Oswald is fucking terrified that Ed will leave him. [...] Oswald just proved that he'd destroy either of them to keep Ed. Which Ed rebuffs, thankfully. Oswald 100% doesn't hurt Ed to hurt him; he's not trying to be mean; he cares about Ed and wants him to be safe. He's just overwhelmed and afraid and he ultimately does not think he's worthy of a relationship with a whole Ed. He lashes out. Oswald's a guy with a lot of trauma; people with trauma sometimes do weird shit in personal relationships. Self-sabotage (and the sabotage of people who love and support you) is not outside of the realm of possibility. He's not trying to be an ass, but he is being hurtful.

He's scared, but he's NOT scared of losing his life, he's scared of losing ED.

That... was a revelation to me. Suddenly everything made sense:

THAT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE! THAT EXPLAINS WHY HE'S EMOTIONALLY ABUSIVE AT THE DOCKS! Yes, GOD, that's EXACTLY what he does, the whole time, he wants to be NEEDED, he wants to bind Ed to him through FEAR which is NOT healthy! He FORCES Ed to pull the trigger in doing so. And this DOES mean that Oswald is not stable enough IN HIMSELF, he is not secure enough IN HIMSELF to handle a relationship right now!

My literal, verbatim reaction there ^^;

It explains... so much, it did for me anyway. Why Oswald hasn’t accepted any of Ed’s emotions, even though he’s explicitly declaring them. Why Oswald has been acting scared and desperate, but never moved to save his own life. It wasn’t his life at all he was worried about, it didn’t even occur to him. The thing that scared him... was losing Ed.

And the hilarious, ironic thing is we were told this. When Babs walks in to explain to Ed why his life is terrible, she literally says, “But Ozzie saw you being taken away from him by that bookish vixen.” That fear and jealousy doesn’t stop being real after Isabella’s dead. It extends forward, until now. Oswald continues to operate off the fear that Ed will leave him, that’s why he rejects all of Ed’s decisions that in any way don’t match his own, especially the moves for independence. That’s why Oswald tries to trap him again here. And yes it is motivated by a deep and profound desire to have Ed in his life, which can BECOME love... but isn’t love. Because it denies autonomy. Because it does not accept the choices of your partner. And love does not exist without acceptance. Love is sacrifice. Love is also risk. Oswald has to learn that first, how to accept risk. How to trust and respect Ed.

So... again, I want to apologize, deeply, to Robin who said this from the beginning because he knew. He saw that Oswald didn’t respect Ed, hasn’t learned how to yet. Oswald experiences affection, certainly, he is generous and kind and sweet, but he fails at the fundamentals of any relationship, platonic, romantic, any. Trust and Respect. You can’t have anything else before you have that, much less something as complex, tenuous, and difficult as love. But Oswald is also learning. He’s made the first step, he’s realized not everything can be the way he wants it. Sometimes he has to sacrifice. But now he has to work on seeing Ed as an equal and accepting that love is not about needing each other, but choosing each other. Accepting that Ed is a fully formed and functional human being who is capable of making his own decisions. And there is SO MUCH risk embedded in that. And Oswald’s fear and self-loathing prevents him for accepting it.

And, for the record, you have to accept that before you can accept someone loving you too. Ironically, neither he nor Ed can accept being loved by someone else ^^; They just responded to it in DRASTICALLY different ways. But, even if Ed could and did right now, Oswald would never really internalize it and it would rift the relationship even worse than it is currently frayed.

It may not look great that Ed’s shot Oswald, but Ed has leveled the playing field, or wiped the board. Because he put his foot down, he proved that his decisions have consequences and Oswald can’t just ignore them anymore. He has created the opportunity for them to imagine each other as equals, because Ed is guilty to of imagining not only himself as lesser, but Oswald as greater. They both need to accept Ed’s autonomy and everything that that means. If they can do that, I have every hope and desire that they should be together and work seamlessly to terrorize Gotham.

P. S. Consider this scene:

“I gave you a job!” “I gave you everything!”

ANOTHER person Oswald depended on. ANOTHER person Oswald took, and took, and took from. ANOTHER person Oswald REFUSES to give credit to.

And Ed DID, in PAINFUL, LITERAL ways, give him... everything. That's kinda horrific foreshadowing for what will happen to Ed, since he's taking Butch's place. I thought of that earlier and I... I need to lay down now. Oh. Oh that hurt.

#Gotham spoilers #Oswald Cobblepot #nygmobblepot positivity #It BELONGS in this tag I swear #Just give it a chance #I love Oswald too I promise! #I've just realized something unfortunate #But I think ultimately hopeful! #long post #RLT #Robin Lord Taylor #My deepest apologies sir #I understand now #And you were 100% right #unpopular opinion

[bespectacledyurika]

Just Business, As Usual.

I paced back and forth. Was leaving like that too much? Maybe that was a bad idea, but--I glance across the room at the man on my couch. . .this was probably a worse one.

"Yuri, how about you have a seat. You came so we could talk, not so you could pace. Remember how you get." I shot a slight glare at Daevyn. Who was he to say anything about how I got when he was the one that decided to text me out of the blue demanding that we talk. Talk about what? I wasn't sure if I should be infuriated that he had the gall to come back here or entirely unnerved that he even remembered my details.

Still. . .I'd be lying if I didn't say I still found him the least bit attractive. But--I chose to try and put him off by turning my phone back on to stall. Turning it off hadn't kept him away even the slightest bit like I'd hoped it would. Unfortunately, I was left with a lot of guilt upon seeing the worried texts left on my phone. One in particular that I'd chosen to answer and--

WAIT. FUCK DEME'S AT MY DOOR?!

I flinch at the sound of knocking at my door, inwardly groaning as my attention shifted from the door to the demon on my couch impatiently waiting in the most calm and stoic of manners. While he looked like he'd wait all night, I knew him much better than that.

"Yurrriiiiiii, don't be sketch now."

Daevyn's eyes drifted to the door where Demetri's voice came through before he gave me an almost droll expression and a lifted brow, taking a small puff of his cigarette.

"Well? You aren't going to make your guests wait, now are you?" He crossed his legs and sank back into my couch more, fixing me with a focused expression that sent shivers down my spine.

"Uh--yeah--right.." I felt like a child all over again. I'd lost all sense of confidence and tact as I turned towards the door and pressed against it, breathing for a moment before turning the knob. Very. Slowly.

". . .hey. . .um. . .you need something?" I can practically feel Daevyn watching over my shoulder even if I can't see him and I'm most certainly not about to bring Deme into this.

"Um. Yeah I need something? An explanation maybe." Oh no. Oh no no no, you don't. That is the last thing you need. "What did you mean 'I can't do it'? What's going on?" (Or so I'd like to think, but maybe he did deserve an explanation). Instead, I just gave a slightly sheepish chuckle, opening the door a little wider...just a little bit...and holding the door knob tightly.

"Um--about that--y'know. . .I'll be fine. It's--it's all--" Who was I kidding? That was the biggest crock of shit, especially when Daevyn decided to cut my sentence off.

"Yuri...I haven't got all night." His tone sounded a bit threatening and lethal in the smallest of ways through the rumbling, eloquent accent that highlighted every syllable. "Why don't you be polite and invite your little friend in?" The hair on the back of my neck stood up at his words. It wasn't just at how soothingly dangerous his voice was, but. . .invite him in? Are you serious? I wanted to believe that he couldn't have been serious, but--Daevyn was rarely not serious. However, Deme couldn't have been in his plans. I don't even think they'd met.

"Um. . .you wanna. . .come in?" I swallow hard to try and calm my racing heart. This is bad. This is very bad. But how do I say no? Stepping back a bit more, I open the door enough to seem more inviting even though the look on my face hopefully says something along the lines of ‘You really shouldn't’.

Of course...he doesn’t listen. 

"You have friends over?" Luckily, Demetri was one that could at least talk to someone like he meant them no ill-will, not that it made me feel that much better. "Were we keeping you from somethin' important?"

Daevyn's dark eyes roam over Demetri, scanning him as he takes another puff of his cigarette and uncrosses his legs, waving a hand dismissively. "Nothing too important that Yuri can't allow his friends in his own apartment." There was such a subtle and relaxed formality in his tone that it almost threw me as I closed the door behind Deme.

Standing, Daevyn made his way over and held out a hand. "I don't believe we've officially met. The name's Daevyn Grimaldi." I silently glared at him from behind Deme. How dare he suddenly play nice like nothing is going on. But this was his strong-suit. Bluffing. Unfortunately, he'd be meeting a demon with a similar set of skills.

"We were uh--just...catching up--do you guys want anything? Drinks maybe?" While I sure don't want to leave Deme alone in the living room with Daevyn, luckily the open floor-plan would allow me to still easily view from a distance and I need a little space for some air. Plus, I wasn't sure how long he was gonna play nice or what the act was even for. The latter was probably scarier, in my opinion. 

"Catching up, eh? I can imagine- it's been awhile since I've heard that name. A pleasure to formally make your acquaintance." At least Demetri was good at playing off anything he was thinking. I was even convinced just a little by his show of cordiality and charm. Maybe a little too good. 

"Demetri. I hope my reputation proceeds me as much as yours does." The handshake was mutually made and Daevyn made a wistful expression of thought as he ran the name over his tongue, dropping Deme's hand and placing his own in his pockets. "Demetri...Demetri..." 

"I'll take one." Deme says to me very briefly making an exchange of glances. I'd taken my cue to leave towards the kitchen before Daevyn's reply, but it wasn't that far out of the way of the middle of the living room, just off to Deme's right, and was still easily seen into from the gap between the counter and the cabinets. "Marquette? Yuri has mentioned you a few times. A dealer of souls, so I've heard..." The words roll off his tongue in an almost flattering manner that doesn't seem to quite make his eyes despite the slight twitch of a smirk at the corner of his lips. "I hadn't even realized that I'd obtained a reputation, but I'll gladly take the thought." (I'm internally cussing him out for this comment, not that he's aware.) 

I rummage through my fridge trying to busy myself. I already know that I'm just gonna grab Deme a Sprite, but--there's something so...dangerously charming in Daevyn's voice that makes me not want to go back just yet, taking in all the fresh air the cold refridgerator makes in my face.

"Oh yeah. I heard plenty about your place. Shame I didn't get the chance to visit myself while Yuri coulda still snuck me in, eh?" 

He gave a small nod of agreement, making himself comfortable back on the couch where he'd been seated before Demetri even entered. "Mm, yeah, it is quite the shame. It was definitely one of my finer investments." He sounded like he'd planned on saying just enough without saying too much. Although, I could feel his eyes every so slightly twitch towards the kitchen where I'd realized that I was probably taking way too long.

"What brings you by?"

Thankfully, Deme seemingly pulled his attention for me to stall on the Sprite just a little longer. (I'm so sorry, Pal. I promise, you'll get your Sprite.)

Burning blue irises shifted towards the ceiling for a moment as Daevyn crossed his legs once more and proceeded to think on an answer. Normally, he wasn't one to show any physical signs of thought or a possible bluff--meaning his over-expressiveness had to have been a hoax of its own. "Ah...I'd actually had a business proposition I wanted to run by him." He glanced back at Deme, making a slightly intense eye-lock. "But you know what they say about turning away your houseguests." There was an implication in his tone, a slight twitch in his brows, he wanted it to be known without having to say anything, and Demetri was just the guy to pick up on that. 

Feeling suddenly more concern for Deme than I did when he walked through the door, I grabbed a Sprite from the fridge and shuffled back towards the two of them with it in my hands, unsure if I should cut it to hand it to him with the look lying somewhere underneath Daevyn's usual demeanor.

"Business? Yuri you didn't tell me you were getting into business. Now I'm listening."

Pulling his lips in, Daevyn takes a seemingly slow, almost intimidating drag on his cigarette before letting the smoke out as it makes intricate and alluring waves in the air around him. I nod at Deme in reference to the drink, but it's a very stiff nod and then my whole being tenses at the way the conversation is directed back towards me....as if I'm supposed to answer that.

"Ahah...well that's because um...I didn't want you to worry too much--y'know...as like..." How was I supposed to word this? There was absolutely no way I could be as smooth as either Demetri or Daevyn right now. Maybe in other cases, but this just wasn't one of them. 

"We haven't fully ironed out the details. So they're a bit more on the need-to-know side for the moment." His face clearly finished the sentence with and you don't need to know. Words that hadn't met his eyes which still kept locked on Demetri.

"Um--yeah it uh...it's...a work in...progress." I pat Deme's back, feeling the unease from Daevyn's intensity. "But--maybe I can fill you in more when...we have...something more solid?" I was a shit bluffer, okay? But how does one focus with trained dark eyes in their general direction? "Fair. Fair." Deme straightens himself out. "Surprises are nice too."

I wasn’t entirely sure if Deme believed me or not--I mean, I wouldn’t have--but believing me wasn’t the point. The point was for him to LEAVE. I didn’t like the eyes he was getting. It just felt concerning and unsafe.

“So...tell the other's hi for me?" I offer him a sheepish grin. My eyes plead with his for a moment to go, and not because I want to kick him out, but his safety means a lot to me. 

Deme gives a small waggle of his drink.  "Oh well! I look forward to it. You'll have to keep me in the loop, Yuri! For now I'll leave you both to it. Take care."

While I can't say I was relieved when Deme gave in, Daevyn seemed to relax just an inch at Deme's statement of leaving. It made me feel awful, honestly. I could tell there was something more than discussing our previous relationship from him. So--whatever it was, I wasn't going to hear even a bite of with Demetri still here.

"Yeah--of course." I nod slowly and offer a sympathetic smile as I prepare to show him the door--which just makes the pit in my stomach of guilt even bigger. The face I offer him in return for his caving to leave was more of an I'm sorry than anything else. I mean--I should be scared. I feel like I should be scared. I kind of am scared, but really--I wasn't entirely sure that Deme could do more for me than what I could do for me, and I didn't want him getting mixed up in this.

"Thanks for checking on me..." The reluctance in my voice is heavy as Daevyn chimes in over my shoulder, seemingly pleased but also nonchalant enough about it to not seem like he's flaunting. "We should talk again some time soon, Demetri Marquette." The smooth smirk strings across his lips as he tips his head. 

"You bet." Deme salutes towards Daevyn. If I couldn’t tell there was some sense of worry and suspicion on Demetri’s end, it definitely resonated with the look he gave me just before he left and the almost-demanding hushed statement. "Turn your damn phone on."

And...there he went. 

After I’d closed the door and took my sweet time making it back over to Daevyn who was on the couch barely five feet from me, I locked my hands behind my back and watched him, waiting for him to speak first.

“Now, where were we?” He returned back to some state of normalcy. It definitely wasn’t the affectionately stoic gaze I was used to, but it was more at ease than before.

“Oh--um...you wanted to talk to me?” I tried to pick up with something, anything, because this was nauseating and I wasn’t really sure WHERE we were to begin with aside from my living room which he hadn’t even been invited into. 

“Ah. Yes. That.” He replies dryly with a tongue click as he looks me over. “Have a seat.” (Okay, I swear, I’m not some trained dog or anything okay?) Still...I sit next to him on the couch with a few inches of space between us just in case, glancing at him repeatedly.

His intense blue gaze sears through mine as he slowly leans and closes the space between us, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Hold still.” That dark rumble holds some command over me in my gut and my chest that makes me tense still tighter than usual.

As if I didn’t think him leaning and closing the space between himself and the back of my neck was weird enough, him ripping the bandage so cautiously placed and replaced off of my neck enough to pull hairs and send goosebumps over my skin with the feeling was definitely weird.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one that thought so either. The weird itching on the back of my neck picked up again just a bit after the action and probably from the way he made me on-edge. My shoulders twitched as the skin writhed, but I couldn’t reach to scratch it because he refused to let up his grasp on my shoulder.

Instead, he gripped harder the more I tried to move. “Sit. Still.” Daevyn gritted at me. The tone would’ve been confusingly arousing had he not had me in this strange hold with panic running through me as my skin itched and stung and squirmed.

“Bu-but--! What IS that?! Stop it!!” Oh how I wanted to just throw him across my living room--which I could’ve done, but the look in his eyes when I glanced over my shoulder told me not to and made my stomach drop. He was just so. goddamn. focused. In fact, it made me cease movement entirely just by how intense his stare was.

The cigarette hung loosely between his lips as what felt like a short infinity passed before I could hear just the smallest mutter behind me, but I had no fucking clue what he was saying.

“Omnia cum pretio.”

The only importance this piece of, what I thought to be Latin, held was that the minute he said it, Daevyn’s hand released my shoulder and a horrid screeching emitted from my neck as it hissed enough that I could actually HEAR it. What the flying fuck?!

Next I knew, the pain and itching and stinging was everywhere. Daevyn was standing from his spot on the couch. “It was nice talking to you, Yuri. Keep safe.” I wasn’t even sure what the FUCK that was supposed to mean--KEEP SAFE. I felt like I was burning and being eaten alive at the same time. How?!

And his cheap fucking charm-oozing grin didn’t help as he went up in flames leaving me alone in my living room. Meanwhile--

The feeling didn’t get any better the second he’d left. In fact, it got WORSE. I couldn’t even see what was going on, but I felt the skin on the back of my neck rip open, flesh tearing and causing me to cry out as I fall to the floor after trying to get off my couch, simply giving in and curling up on the floor. Not peacefully. My body twitched and squirmed every time it felt like something bit me or stung or itched but I’d run out of the stamina to really go searching and fight it. All I could do was lie on my side and squirm until things got hazy and the lights fell dark.

So much for talking...

When I awoke, I remember just how badly everything ached--physically, mentally, and emotionally. I was just entirely worn and exhausted with a puddle of blood draping my face, neck, and mussing up my hair--cheek pressed against my wood floor. I wasn’t even sure what time it was. 

Wearily, a hand moved to grab the cellphone that I’d placed in my pocket. Deme wanted updates, right? 

...well I wanted help...so guess that makes us even. Not that fairness even mattered at this point.

#Yurio/Yuri #Story arc #Demetri #Daevyn #this is baaad