#i wanted to kill myself like fifteen minutes ago but now I’m full of warm soup and everything is okay .

[bat-losers-inc]

Song of Cassandra: Chapter 2

Warnings: Family Drama, Family Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Baggage, and Child Neglect

Summary: What is Batman without a Robin? Everyone in the family makes jokes about the ‘dead robins club’, but Dick and Jason really do have measures set in place for the day Bruce loses sight of what’s really important. They won’t let Bruce sacrifice another Robin for the cause, even if that means separating Robin from Batman for good.

Pairings: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

                            _____________________________________

Half a year later saw them performing a feat of brotherly bonding he’d never imagined possible: robbing Penguin together.

They’d left the Tricorner district behind in a streak of burnt rubber and a barrage of gunfire and ditched the getaway van in Chinatown at the first available 24-hour parking facility on the other side of the bridge. It was slower going on foot, but Chinatown’s busy night scene, combined with the heavy triad presence in this district, would make Penguin’s men hesitate before going in guns blazing. That was all the time they needed to slip away unseen.

Now, as they emerged from the darkness of the parking deck, Dick yanked the balaclava off his head. He grunted something unintelligible as he shouldered his way through the cluster of pedestrians that crowded the sidewalk.

“What?” asked Jason, pulling his own half-mask down from around his neck and jogging to catch up.

“I said, you’re a real bastard. You promised me this was would be easy!”

Jason glanced at him. He wanted to be sympathetic but he just couldn’t when Dick was glaring at him with that staticky mop of hair. He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice when he replied, “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t leave a paper trail! This is about as easy as stealing from Penguin’s bagman gets.”

In truth, he thought they were complaining just for the sake of complaining. After six months they both knew that pulling off this heist was less a matter of choice and more a matter of necessity. Failure meant returning to the storage locker Dick had procured outside of Port Adams and staring down their measly little bat-trust-fund: six safehouses, fifteen rolls of Kevlar fabric, a small arsenal, twenty-seven contacts typed into a Word document, and $5,025 split five ways. But what use would kevlar suits be if their siblings couldn’t afford to keep a roof over their heads? No, without the cash it was worth fuck-all.

Dick looked like he wanted to argue the point further but at that moment a convoy of police vehicles shot past them, sirens wailing and horns blaring loud enough to deafen a person. No doubt by now Penguin’s men had informed their boss about the botched exchange and pinned the blame on their nearest rivals, the Ghost Dragons. If that was the case, then Chinatown was a powder keg ready to explode into a minor gang war at any moment.

A flash of light reflected off the windows of a nearby apartment building. Jason stepped in between two parked cars to get a better look and found himself staring up at the cloud-heavy night sky illuminated in the glow of the bat signal.

He gripped the heavy duffel bag full of stolen cash closer to his chest like he expected Gotham’s dark knight to swoop down at any moment and tear it from his shoulder.

“Hey,” Dick tugged at his arm. “time to go.”

Batman was on the way and like the best of Gotham’s criminals, Jason and Dick made themselves scarce.

It took nearly forty minutes and three subway lines to make their way back to the self-storage facility. By then a pale glow had crept up from the horizon and spread across the water. Around them, the street lights began to shut off one after another. In the distance, Jason could just make out a tugboat as it pushed a barge out towards the open ocean.

By the time Dick pulled the storage locker door down behind them, they were tired-eyed and footsore.

Jason threw the duffel bag onto a table and propped himself against it as he fished one-handed under his t-shirt to undo the straps of his protective vest. He sighed in relief as the weight lifted off his shoulders. “How the hell did you stand wearing these things when you were on the force? Even with the undershirt, the chaffing is god-awful.”

“You get used to it,” Dick replied, making quick work of removing his own gear.

Jason doubted it but he was too tired to argue his point further. Instead, he found the six-pack that he’d stashed under the table earlier that day and snapped off a can.

“Heads up,” he called, as he pitched a can underhand to Dick who caught it against his chest.

Dick held it up for inspection. “Warm beer. What I’ve always wanted.”

“Oh shut up and celebrate with me, you asshole.”

He extended his arm across the table. Dick knocked beer cans with him and completely failed at hiding the shy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though god bless him he tried. “Cheers.”

Jason watched him crack open the top and chuckled as he hurriedly slurped at the foam that erupted over the rim. He knew that this morally gray lifestyle didn’t come easy to Dick but he couldn’t deny that he was happy he had stuck around with him for this long. He didn’t dare to say it out loud, but they actually made good partners.

He took a long drink from his own beer can before putting it aside. “Ok, come on. The faster we count this cash the sooner we can go to bed.”

Jason upturned the duffel bags, sending stacks of cash sliding out onto the metal tabletop while Dick pulled the banknote counter from the corner and lugged the machine up next to the pile. Together they started slipping the currency bands loose and feeding the stacks of cash into the machine, watching eagerly as the sum continued to tick upwards.

“Soo…” Jason drummed his thumbs on the table as the numbers continued to flash on the small screen, “How are things going with you and Babs?”

“What?” Dick’s eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m a little curious about what she thinks you do when you’re out late all the time… also, I’m bored.”

“You’re weird, is what you are.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Seriously? We’ve only spent the past six months together moonlighting as vigilante survivalists and I can’t ask one time how your love life is going.”

“No, no. Sorry, you’re right.” Dick held up a hand. “I told her I’ve been helping you out with an undercover case for a couple of months now. Said I owed you a favor.”

Jason grinned at him. “Well, that’s not a lie. Quite a few actually, but who’s counting.”

Dick punched him in the shoulder. “Actually, I should call her. Reassure her you didn’t get me killed before she calls in a search party.”

Jason chuckled and went back to the task of feeding bills into the machine as Dick rummaged through the backpack and fished out his phone.

“Hey, uhh...”

Jason glanced up and took in Dick’s furrowed expression as he stared down at his phone. He put down the stack of cash he was holding. “What’s the matter?”

“Something happened while we were out. I — shit I don’t know how to explain it but I’ve got like 15 missed messages from Barbara and Alfred. Did you bring your phone with you?”

Jason grabbed his backpack where his own phone was stashed and opened it to find a similar mass of missed calls and incoherently excited messages cluttering the screen. Some of the numbers he recognized, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred were all saved in his phone, but a few were from unknown senders. If he had to venture some guesses he’d say Cass, Duke… maybe Harper? Fuck, he never realized this many bat brats had his number. “I don’t get it… something about Tim? What about hell?”

“I’m calling Babs.”

Jason was aware of how uncomfortably loud their breathing sounded in the small storage locker as they stood around the table waiting for Dick’s call to connect.

“Dick?” Barbara’s voice asked loudly through the speaker. “Thank God! Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling you.”

“Sorry, undercover mission, remember? What’s the big emergency? I didn’t get anything from Bruce.”

“You need to get back to the manor. Bruce found Tim!”

That didn’t make any sense. “What? You mean Bruce found Tim’s remains?”

Jason smacked his arm. “His remains? Are you fucking serious? What remains could Bruce possibly find after a death like that?”

“I don’t know, bone fragments—”

Dick’s argument sounded flimsy the moment it left his mouth and they both knew it. Jason just really hated to be the one who had to say it.

“If the heat from that explosion didn’t finish him off entirely then the pounding impact of like a hundred thousand missiles definitely did in whatever remains might have been left.”

“Guys—” called Babs.

“Oh, so you’re a forensic scientist now? You don’t know that—“

“Yes, I do!” He slammed a hand down on the table, his anger flaring. He really couldn’t do this backslide back into denial with Dick again. “There’s a reason we buried an empty box. Tim is literally dust in the wind.”

“Jesus Christ!” Barbara’s voice erupted loudly through the speakerphone. “Kill it with the broody back and forth already and actually listen to me, would you? I’m not talking about bone fragments or anything like that. I’m saying Bruce found Tim. Tim! He’s alive.”

Jason met Dick’s eyes over the phone, confusion written as starkly across Dick’s face as it must have been on his own. “What? I— What?”

“I really don’t understand it all myself. But Tim said he’s been held captive by Mr. Oz in another dimension for this whole time. Can you believe it? All this time we thought he was dead and...”

Jason didn’t catch that last bit. He was too busy bent over the table as all the blood rushed to his head.

He was gonna hurl. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

They’d all given up on the hope of Tim miraculously surviving a long time ago and this sudden news felt like he was experiencing emotional whiplash. This had to be some kind of sick joke or a trick... a doppelganger sent by the newest enemy on the rise against Batman.

Dick’s thoughts were apparently spiraling in the same direction as his own for he ran a hand roughly across his mouth and asked, “You saw him yourself? You’re sure it’s him, our Tim?”

But it wasn’t a big cosmic joke. As much as Jason couldn’t believe it, it wasn’t and that was made clear with every new piece of information Babs gave them.

“Yes, he was standing right in front of me only an hour ago — crying and hugging everyone.”

Dick turned to look at Jason, but he was already rounding the table and yanking Dick into a bruising hug.

“He’s alive,” Dick cried into the shoulder of his t-shirt. His voice overflowed with the most contagiously hysterical mixture of joy. Jason laughed through his own tears. “You bet your ass he is!”

He couldn’t explain what had come over him. He and Dick had never really been close — and they definitely weren’t huggers — but the last few months had been so full of this gnawing air of anxiety — their family continuing to fracture, the resources running dry — that the full realization was starting to hit them that this plan might have been formed too late to do any real good. They could feel the clock running out and they were both expecting the other shoe to drop any day now but then out of the blue… this.

Dick pushed away from him suddenly and wiped at his eyes.

“Uh…” he tried to clear his throat. “We, uh, we should get back to the cave and go see him for ourselves. Babs, he still there, right?”

“Yeah, Bruce is debriefing him.”

And just like that, Jason’s joy seized painfully in his chest. It hurt the way a seatbelt does in a car crash, knocking the air out of your lungs and bringing you up short. He watched Dick rush around him, grabbing up his belongings in a disorganized fashion.

“Dick, I can’t come with you.”

“What?” Dick asked, breathless. He turned back from the door. “Yes, you can. C’mon, get your stuff, the money can wait till tomorrow.”

Jason shook his head. Fuck, how the hell was he supposed to explain this to him without looking like the one asshole member of this family who didn’t want to visit his little brother recently brought back from the dead.

Dick paused, his hand dropping from the door handle. “What? Because of what happened between you and Bruce?”

I was a fool for ever believing in you. Even now Bruce’s words lingered at the back of his head. An invisible brand that still held its heat.

“Jason, I know what went down between you and Bruce was… heavy, to say the least, but you’re still family. You do know that, right? You’re still my family and if you want to see Tim, Bruce can do fuck-all to stop it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jason could only huff a sad laugh at that because God did he want to believe that too, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Tim would always be his family, but Bruce… he’d crossed a point of no return with Bruce on the night that the fortress was destroyed. The violence of his assault had done more than break a few bones— it had finally shattered that last shred of trust he’d stupidly harbored in him that when push came to shove Bruce would value the son over the soldier. I broke his rules for the last time and now he sees me as nothing more than an unredeemable criminal that escaped Batman’s justice. One of his little soldiers gone AWOL.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… I can’t face him yet— I—” he trailed off. He’d been laying low since his return to Gotham, but even still Jason thought the only reason he’d survived this long was because Bruce was too consumed with Tim’s death to spend a spare thought on him. He wasn’t ready to walk into that cave tonight and find out what would happen now that Tim was back in the picture and Bruce’s anger focused back on him.

It felt like a horrible selfish thing to think about saving his own skin when his little brother had come back from the dead, but as his eyes lingered at the collection of items piled around the storage locker he was reminded that no one was going to do it for him. After all, that was how this plan had all started right? Someone had to be the one to craft the safety net for the next Robin to fall of Batman’s mighty pedestal.

“You should go. Tell Tim I’m glad he inherited my cockroach-like ability to not stay dead.”

“Jason…” Dick twisted the jacket he held in his hands.

“Go.” It came out sharper than he’d intended, despite his best efforts to push his emotions down. He was quick to try to smooth it over with a tight smile that he knew fooled neither of them. “I’ll stop by his apartment tomorrow once all the hype has died down. Besides, someone needs to finish up here.”

He nodded at the banknote counter.

The one thing he’d always valued about Dick, more than his caring nature, was that he knew when to stop pushing an issue.

“Alright,” Dick shifted his grip on his jacket again. His phone was chiming once more in the back pocket of his jeans. No doubt another family member asking where he was. “I’ll call you tomorrow to check in.”

“Sure.”

After the door to the storage locker fell shut, Jason let his gaze travel around the room again. So Tim was back, alive and well as far as any of them were concerned. A nagging part of Jason’s mind wondered worriedly if gaining him back would slowly undo all the plans they had made together. Would Dick continue to worry about the next crisis to befall their little family or would Tim’s return renew his neverending faith in the impossible until he eventually forgot what it was that drove him to his breaking point?

Jason picked up another stack of banknotes and slid it into the machine. As the numbers continued to rise once more he did his best to prepare himself for the idea that he would be alone in this mission once more. Another bitter pill to swallow but he couldn’t do it. It lodged itself raw and unpleasant at the back of his throat.

#song of cassandra #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #hurt comfort #brotherly bonding #bruce wayne a+ parenting #emotional abuse #emotional whump #nightwing #red hood #robin #spoiler #Red Robin #DC comics #batman #My writing #LittleDarlingXOX

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch3: Chicken wings and Confessions.

Chapter Summary: Fliss heads to Frank and Mary’s for a cookout, and they both learn a little bit more about the other’s troubled past.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Talks of domestic violence and suicide.

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Again, as you will all know I’m a Brit so apologies if too much British horsey lingo slips into this…ASK away if you don’t understand. Tagging all my SSB/CSI readers…if you want in or off the list PLEASE just tell me.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 2

“Frank goes out most Fridays, but Saturday we hang out.” Mary explained about her weekends to Fliss as she sat on the chair with her juice box. Mary had finished her riding lesson roughly fifteen minutes ago and they were now sat in Fliss’ office waiting for Frank to finish working on the tractor. Fliss had noticed instantly that Mary’s demeanour around the two other girls on her lesson had changed, she had become a lot more introvert. Almost like the children bored her so to speak.

It had surprised Fliss a little, as normally it was the other way round, kids happy to be outgoing with people their own age and more reserved with grown-ups. But she had ignored it and introduced the three girls to one another, simply carrying on as normal. Mary had completely focussed on her riding, not really speaking to the other kids and Fliss was starting to understand now why Frank thought she needed to socially interact a little more with children.

“That’s cool.” Fliss smiled. “So what are you doing tonight then?”

“He said he was gonna do a BBQ.” Mary looked at her. “Roberta’s coming over. She’s our neighbour. She turns up uninvited all the time so Frank said we might as well ask her if she wanted to come as she’d just rock up anyway.”

Fliss grinned “Is Frank any good with BBQs?”

“He BBQs better than he cooks.” Mary answered and Fliss chuckled. “But that’s because it’s not really cooking is it? It’s just heating meat to a temperature so that all the bacteria is killed.”

“Talking about me again?” Frank leaned in the doorway of the office, wiping his hands on an old rag and Fliss looked up, smiling at him.

“Mary was just telling me about your cooking.”

Frank snorted “Yeah it’s not much to write home about.”

“It’s bad.” Mary grimaced. “Unless you get it out of a jar.”

At that Fliss tipped her head back in a loud laugh. “Oh God!”

Frank shook his head smiling to himself before he changed the subject. “Tractor’s all done.”

“You, Sailor, are a God send.” she smiled “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing” Frank shook his head “I had the parts lying around so…”

Fliss frowned, before she smirked at him, “Okay then, today’s lesson is on me again.”

Frank looked away shaking his head before he turned back, smiling “That’s how it is?”

“That’s how it is.” she nodded.

“Alright, quid-pro-quo.” he shrugged, tucking the rag he had been using into his back pocket.

“What are you doing tonight?” Mary asked and Fliss smiled.

“Well my Mum and Dad are away so I have the house to myself. I’ll probably grab a beer, lay by the pool for a bit and then…”

“You have a pool?” Mary’s eyes widened, cutting her off.

“My mum and dad do.”

“That’s so cool.” Mary looked at Frank “Why can’t we have a pool?”

“We do.”

“A communal one.” Mary rolled her eyes. “A private one is way better.”

“Yeah, well, sorry life is such a disappointment to you.” Frank looked at her, Mary pouted a little at him and Fliss smiled at the easy to-and-froing that was going on between the two. “And here’s another disappointment, time to go.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve taken up enough of Miss Gallagher’s…”

“Fliss, please.”

“Fliss’ time, and I need to get to the store if you wanna eat anything tonight.”

Mary grumbled but stood up and trudged slowly towards the door.

“Before you go do you wanna book in for next week?” Fliss asked.

“You gonna let me pay for that one?” Frank looked at her.

“Depends if I find anything else for you to fix.” she shot back, Frank snorted and shook his head. “Same time?”

He nodded “That’s great, thanks.”

“No problem.”

She bid them both goodbye and Frank and Mary made their way to the truck, Frank’s hand dropping to the back of Mary’s head as they walked, keeping her from diverting her attention as she spotted Joanne bringing in one of the horses from the pasture.

“Do you not think Miss Gallagher might be lonely?” Mary asked Frank suddenly.

“Lonely?”  Frank looked at her, “Why do you think she might be lonely?”

“Because she’s on her own, at home.” Mary shrugged

“She lives near her parents.” Frank replied.

“Yeah but her parents have been away since Tuesday. And she told me that she doesn’t have a lot of friends round here.”

“Neither do you.” Frank looked at Mary.

Mary scoffed “I have you and Roberta, and Fred.”

“Well then Fliss has her family, her horses.”

“But why not us?”

“I’m not following?” Frank shook his head. “I mean why can’t we be her friends?”

“Well, we are.” he said, “Sorta, anyway.”

“So why doesn’t she come round tonight as well?”

“Well, I…” Frank paused and looked up. He’d only know the woman a week but he couldn’t deny he liked her company. They’d chatted over text most nights since, and in person it was just as easy to talk to her as it was behind a phone screen, but he didn’t know her in any detail… well, not yet anyway. He was hoping he would in time, because he found her a breath of fresh air to be around. She was someone who didn’t know anything about him, his life. She took him for who he was and he liked that.

Taking a breath he looked back down at Mary. “You think she’d wanna come?”

Mary shrugged before she hopped round to the other side of the truck.  Frank patted the roof and leaned through the open window of the driver’s side. “Wait her a minute.” he instructed, before he turned and walked back onto the yard.

“Fliss?” he called and she turned to face him.

“Forget something?” she asked, smiling.

“No, well kinda, look. If you want, and that’s only if, there’s no obligation at all but you’re welcome to join us tonight.”

“When I said I was alone, I wasn’t angling for an invite.” she explained and Frank shook his head.

“No, I know…” he assured her “But the offer’s there if you fancy it. Although my limits are burgers, sausages and steak.”

“No chicken wings?” she frowned “What kind of sorry ass BBQ is that?”

“You want chicken wings, you can bring them.” he laughed.

She looked at him for a second before she smiled “Alright, deal.”

“Say about half five? Will you be done here or…”

“I can get one of the girls to close up.” she smiled. “Half five is fine.”

“Ok, well I’ll text you the address.” he said with a nod “It’s not hard to find, we live near the dock not far from St Pete’s beach. It’s the little trailer-slash-prefab park.”

He paused, waiting for the usual judgmental look that came whenever he explained where he lived but it never arrived. Instead, Fliss smiled and nodded.

“Near the dock huh?” she grinned “That’s pretty cool.”

“Well it means the commute to work is acceptable” he shrugged and Fliss laughed.

“I bet the views are amazing.”

“Well, sadly we only have a single storey apartment so can’t see much.”

“Shame.” Fliss nodded. “I could quite happily lose a day watching sailors.”

There was a pause as Frank arched an eyebrow, as she held his gaze, smirking a little and he found his neck and cheeks going warm.

Was she flirting with him?

“Unfortunately you’ll have to make do with me.” He replied, testing the water.

“Yeah, that is a bummer.” She sighed. “Not sure how I’ll cope.”

There was a twinkle in her eye and Frank shook his head, giving a little chuckle.

Yup, definitely flirting.

“Okay, so I guess I’ll see you later.” He asked and she nodded, smiling.

“Yeah, you will.”

***** “Hi guys!” Fliss waved at the screen as her mom and dad squeezed in to say hello.

“Hey Titch!” her Dad grinned back “How’s it going? Burnt the house down yet?” “Yeah, fire brigade are dealing with it now” she rolled her eyes. “How’s Seattle?”

“Hot, like muggy hot, and full of people.” her dad grimaced and she heard her mum tssk in the background before she too appeared on the screen.

“Ignore him!”  Verity appeared on the screen, smiling “It’s wonderful!”

“Hmmmm” Bill rolled his eyes “I tell you what won’t be wonderful, my bank statement when I get it. You’ve hit every shop going.”

Fliss laughed as her parents began to bicker affectionately.

“So what are you up to tonight?” Verity turned to her daughter “Making the most of the peace and quiet?”

“Actually I’m going out.” she said, ignoring but not missing, the surprised look her parents exchanged. “Well, to a BBQ”

“A BBQ?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, Frank and Mary invited me so,” she shrugged, “I thought it beat sitting at home alone.”

Another significant look was exchanged between the parents.

“Oh and he fixed the tractor” Fliss said, in a hope that would divert her Dad’s attention. Luckily for her, Bill was a tactful man and could recognise when she was trying to change the subject so, to avoid her mother digging further, he took the initiative and began to ask her a few questions about it, which she answered as best she could. The call lasted for another ten minutes or so before the oven sounded, telling her the marinated chicken wings she had cooked to take with her were ready so she bid them both goodbye, promising to be at the airport to pick them up the following evening, and headed into the kitchen.

Once the wings were out cooling, she took a shower then set about trying to decide what to wear. Her stomach was churning a little, she was nervous for a number of reasons, the main one being she actually kinda liked Frank. He was easy to talk with, funny, flirty and even better to look at. Fliss had never imagined post her husband she’d ever feel as comfortable with a man so easily as she had with Frank, which could only be a good sign, right?

In the end she settled on a pair of cut-off jeans which grazed her ankles, a pair of brown, strappy flat sandals and a light green checked sleeveless button down. She kept her make up light, and pulled her long hair back into a loose bun. Once she had made sure the dogs were okay she grabbed the chicken wings and the beer she had also bought to take with her, double checked the directions and set off.

It wasn’t a long drive to the park Frank and Mary lived on. Fliss slowed down carefully, looking for the number she had been given and soon spotted Frank’s truck parked up in a space just off the little road. She stopped her Jeep behind it and clambered out, only to be almost bowled over by a flurry of blonde hair.

“Hi!” Mary said, giving her a hug. Fliss chuckled and bent down to hug her back.

“Mary you saw me like a few hours ago.” she laughed.

“I know but, I’m glad you came.” she beamed, letting go. Mary then reached down to pick up a ginger one-eyed cat which was following her. “This is Fred.” “Nice to meet you Fred.” Fliss grinned, giving the cat a scratch behind his ear.

“Mary for God’s sake give it a moment before you start bugging her half to death.” Frank’s voice sounded and Fliss looked up, smiling at him as he appeared from the side of the house. Fliss gave him the once over from behind her sunglasses. He was dressed in a pair of light blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a pair of grubby white sneakers. As he crossed the lawn area towards them, he gave Fliss a smile which made her stomach twist and to distract herself she turned and opened the passenger side of the car, reaching in for the ceramic dish covered in foil

“You told me to bring chicken wings.” she smiled as she handed him the dish “I also brought beer.”

Frank laughed and shook his head “I wasn’t being serious…”

“Well, I did them anyway. And they’re already cooked so you just need to char them. No chance of food poisoning.”

“Good to know.” Frank nodded, before he gestured with his head “You err, wanna come in?”

Fliss looked over to their apartment and nodded. “Sure.”

Together they walked round to the back of the house and up a set of steps into a small kitchen.

“I’ll show you round!” Mary said, grabbing her hand. Fliss let the girl lead her into the main room of the house.

She looked around smiling softly, taking it all in. It was small, cluttered and packed with personal touches which gave it a homely feel. A small desk in the corner by another door, which she assumed led to a bedroom, which was loaded with books and school supplies. Underneath a window sat a small leather couch, and the walls were adorned a slightly shabby light coloured wooden panelling which gave the place the feel of a beach hut. It might not have been fancy, but it was nice, the vibe was good and Fliss could tell this was a home that saw a lot of love. And she instantly felt at ease.  

“Probably not what you’re used to huh?” Frank watched her as she looked around, suddenly a little conscious that she was more than likely coming from a fairly opulent background with the job she did and her family and sporting heritage.

“No, but,” she smiled at him,“I love it, feels like a home.”

“It’s not much but it does us.” Frank smiled at her comment as he moved back to the fridge. “Beer or…”

“Yeah, beer’s good.” she followed him back to the kitchen, standing in the doorway and nodding to the carrier bag of bottles she had put on the table.

“You know you didn’t need to bring any more.” he said, as he glanced inside it “I got plenty”

“I’m sure you do but my Mum always told me it was polite to take something with me when I go to someone’s for dinner.”

Frank smiled and began to place the bottles in the fridge before he pulled out two already chilled Bud Light and flipped the tops off before passing her one.

“Thanks” she smiled.

Mary walked past the pair of them, Fred shooting ahead of her as she tossed a ping pong ball into the grass of the yard and, with the hand that had just grabbed his aviators off the table, Frank gestured after her, questioningly. Fliss nodded and they stepped back outside onto the lawn area, where a BBQ and a small table and a few chairs sat were set up.

Fliss took a seat as Mary flopped onto a beanbag to their left on the grass.

“Frank bought the special burgers” she stated “Said if we had company that wasn’t just Roberta we should wheel out the good stuff.”

Frank groaned at his niece as he slid on his sunglasses. “Mary.”

“What?” she asked, and Fliss laughed.

“I’m glad you think I’m worthy of good burgers” she teased, and Frank noticed the corners of her eyes that weren’t hidden by her Oakley’s crinkling up as she smiled.

“And I’m offended to know I’m not.” A voice said, and Frank jumped slightly. Fliss turned to see a kindly faced black woman with chin lengthy curly dark hair rounding the side of the house. Mary jumped up to give her a hug and the woman greeted her before she smiled at Fliss who had stood up.

“You must be Fliss.”

“Roberta, yeah?” Fliss asked nodding as she shook the ladies hand “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Same here.” The woman nodded before she turned to Frank. “You going to get me a beer?”

“Get one yourself.” Frank shot back “Make yourself at home. You usually do.”

Fliss grinned as Roberta aimed a slap to his head and he dodged the hit as if he knew it was coming. Which he probably did, Fliss realised. There was a comfortable familiarity between the two of them, a mother-son kind of vibe, even if Frank was trying to be all gruff about it.

Roberta came back and dropped into a chair and they all settled into a comfortable chat. Roberta asked Fliss questions about her Yard, Mary interjecting comments here and there as Frank stood by the grill observing their food. Any tension that Fliss had been feeling quickly evaporated as she became even more comfortable in her surroundings, and she happily chatted away, instantly warming to Roberta as well. She told them about her brother, Steve and his twin boys Charlie and Joel who were both Mary’s age, where she was from in England, and her parents, revealing to Frank’s surprise that Bill wasn’t actually her biological father.

“I didn’t know that.” Frank looked at her.

“Why would you?” Fliss shrugged “It’s not important really. My actual dad left my mum before she had me and then he died when I was four months old. I never met him. Bill brought me up from the age of 2 and adopted me when he married mum, so he is my dad, in everything but blood.”

“You said they were out of town?” Roberta asked. “Anywhere nice?”

“Seattle.” Fliss smiled “Mum’s always wanted to go and, well last year they didn’t get much chance to travel what with everything that was going on so they’re just starting to get round to it. Kinda strange them not being here, it’s the first time since I’ve been in Florida that they haven’t.”

She pondered that for a moment, her nails lightly tapping on her beer bottle before she gave a grin and looked up at Frank. “I face timed them before. Their reaction when I told them I wasn’t simply sitting at home tonight like a total loser was priceless. I thought Mum was going to tell me to give her a ring when I got back home safely.”

Frank gave a little laugh and was about to reply when Mary cut in.

“Why’s that? You’re a grown up.”

Frank rolled his eyes at Mary’s nosey demeanour but Fliss didn’t seem to mind.

"Well like I told you, hun, I don't really have many friends here so I don’t go out a lot” Fliss shrugged "I only really know the guys from the yard and a few people through my parents. My friends are all in the UK, even the people I knew in Boston were more…” she trailed off before she took a breath and smiled “Well, I left them all behind when I moved."

"Well now you got us, right Frank?" Mary said simply as she sat on the large bean bag as she tossed a ping pong ball for Fred who obligingly chased it across the lawn.

"Sure does." Frank smiled, apologetically. “And we’re kinda hard to shake off. "

"Like a dose of the clap." Roberta dropped her voice so only Fliss and Frank could hear. Fliss choked on her beer, sputtering a laugh as Frank flipped the woman off.

"Fuck you" 

Fliss wiped the beer she had slopped onto the front of her blouse, taking a little longer than she needed as her eyes had watered up at the sudden sentiment of the moment. She had only known Frank and Mary a week, yet here she was in their home as if she’d known them forever. Friendship was something she had been aching to feel again for months and now she found herself suddenly surrounded by it and she was a little overwhelmed, but in a good way.

When she finally looked up, Frank was surprised to see there was a shine in her eyes as they had watered over. He shot her a wink, tactful enough not to mention it and then asked her if she would mind grabbing him a beer from the fridge whilst he kept an eye on the steaks, giving her chance to escape and compose herself. She shot him a grateful nod and headed inside, taking a deep breath.

“She alright?” Robert asked, standing up and moving to the grill “She looked a little upset.”

Frank shrugged, focussing on the grill before he looked at Roberta “Think I should go after her?”

Roberta shot him a look as if he had just asked the most stupid question in the world. “Dur.”

“Watch that.” he instructed, handing Roberta the tongs before he headed inside and Fliss turned to look at him, gesturing to the beer on the side.

“Was just about to try and find the bottle opener.” She spoke quietly and, reaching into his pocket Frank handed it to her and smiled.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, before she took a deep breath. “It’s just, well, I’ve not done anything like this in a while, other than with my family so…” “Overwhelming?” he smiled softly and she gave a little shrug.

“A little, maybe. But it’s nice.”

“You might not be saying that when you taste my cooking.” Frank deadpanned and Fliss laughed, following him back outside.

******

To Frank’s delight the food was actually pretty damned good. Roberta had brought a potato salad with her and everything got eaten, there wasn’t a scrap left which was why he and Fliss were now sat on the chairs in the garden, Fliss groaning about being in a food coma. Roberta had left half an hour ago and Mary was now flat out on the bean bag, covered by a fleece blanket. Frank had moved the grill away and lit the small portable fire pit before he had retrieved another blanket for Fliss and himself from the stash down the side of the sofa.

Their conversation had turned to Frank’s work and he was telling Fliss about some of the people he had met, the pair of them giggling as he spoke about a real stuck up couple he had fixed a boat for, who had then only gone and crashed it into the side of another boat on the first day of them taking it back out.

“What a waste.” Fliss laughed, “All your hard work gone up in smoke.”

“Well I got paid.” Frank shrugged “And it was a nice boat to drive”

“Sail.” Fliss corrected him and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm as much of a sailor as you are a cowgirl."

Fliss grinned as she took another swig from her beer bottle before she turned to him, the reflection of the fire pit flashing in her eyes. “Well, if the boots fit" Frank laughed "Do you actually have a pair of cowboy boots?"

"I used to." She took a deep breath. "I spent a week in Texas one summer on a ranch, just to try my hand at Western riding. They gave me a pair of boots and a hat when I left. And then my husband burned them one night after I was late home, also breaking three of my Pandora bracelets that I spent years collecting charms for because I also brought back the wrong brand of coffee.”

Frank bowed his head.

"Sorry." Fliss sighed. "That kinda killed the conversation didn't it?"

Frank shook his head softly "In all honesty I was just thinking about what a prick he is. Something I'll never understand, a man laying hands on a woman."

"I tried to understand it for years." Fliss bit her lip. “Even after he was sent down I still wonder sometimes what I did to make him behave like that but I know it’s him with the problem not me." she paused and shook her head again “I have no idea why I’m telling you all this, sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” Frank looked at her. “Like I said the other night, I’m a good listener.”

“Yeah, you are. You don’t talk much though.” she looked at him.

“What do you think I’m doing now?”

“That’s not what I mean.” she looked at him. “Just a pity I can’t google you like you did to me.” Frank took a deep breath and grimaced as he looked at her “My dad told me” she smiled.

“Yeah, sorry about that, Mary was curious”

“Its fine.” she sighed. “How much did you read?”

“Not much.” He replied honestly. “It isn’t really any of our business.”

“I wish most people thought like that.” She picked at the label on her bottle. “It attracted a lot of interest amongst the circuit. The main reason I left Boston was to get away from all of it but it seems it just follows me all over.”

“Well, no matter how much you try and leave the past behind it always has a habit of catching up on you.” Frank spoke, glancing at Mary. He hesitated before he turned to Fliss.

“Give me your phone.”

“My phone?” she frowned, reaching into her pocket. “I’m not…”

“Well, you might not be able to google me, specifically, but you can google my story.” He said as she unlocked it. “I’d do it but my phone isn’t geared for that type of thing, not really.”

She swiped at a screen then handed it to him where he hesitated for a second. Was he really sure he wanted to do this?

He supposed it was only fair so he typed in what he wanted before holding it out to her.

“The first day we met you asked me what I was running from.” He took a deep breath as Fliss took the phone from him with a questioning look before she glanced down at the article on display.

It was from the Boston Herald.com and her eyes were immediately drawn to the black and white picture of a pretty woman with short, light hair. She was the double of Mary. Across the top the headline read “A Mind for math: Is Diane Adler the missing female variable that finally solves the Navier-Stokes Equation?”

“That’s my sister.” Frank supplied “Mary’s mom. She was basically a genius. The Navier–Stokes equation they’re talking about, well, it’s of huge interest in a purely mathematical sense. It hasn’t yet been proven whether solutions always exist in three dimensions and, if they do exist, whether they are smooth or…”

“You’ve lost me.” Fliss shrugged “I was an English major, numbers and maths really not my strong point.”

Frank chuckled “Sorry, force of habit.” he smiled as Fliss handed him the phone back.

“So, what happened to her?” Fliss asked softly. “I mean, I figure something must have for you to end up with Mary but…”

“She killed herself.”

“Shit.” Fliss sighed, “I’m sorry Frank.”

He took a deep breath. “She was only 27. I was running late for a date of all things. She just showed up, on my doorstep. And she never did that unannounced, and more to the point she never simply showed up with Mary either.” Frank swallowed and Fliss waited patiently for him to continue. “She said she needed to talk. I told her I would talk to her when I got back and I left. I mean, couldn’t be late for a date could I? God forbid it damage my chances of getting’ laid.” Fliss noticed the bitter edge in his voice as he continued “Came home that night. Mary was on the couch…and I found Diane on the bathroom floor.”

Fliss gently touched his arm “Frank, there’s no way you could have known.”

“But I should have.” Frank shook his head, his voice soft. “She was my little sister, you know, I was two years older than her and when my Dad died but I promised then I’d always look after her but…”He shook his head. “Anyway, when she died as soon as I could we moved here. Fast forward 6 and a half years and, well, we’re still here.”

“I take it Mary’s father isn’t about?”

Frank snorted “No.”

“And your mom?”

“She turned her back on Diane when she got pregnant. Didn’t fit with her plan. That’s part of the reason I moved Mary and me here. She’s a very exacting woman, uncompromising, very British.”

At that Fliss raised an eyebrow and Frank looked at her, suddenly realising what he had said. 

“She’s from England.” he added, and Fliss smiled. “She hated the fact I gave up my job and, well we don’t speak.”

“What did you do before becoming a Sailor?” Fliss smiled and Frank chuckled slightly.

“I was an assistant professor at Boston University” he said. “Philosophy.”

“Wow.” Fliss smiled “That’s pretty smart.”

“You sound surprised?” he looked at her

“No, not at all.” Fliss protested.

He smiled again, “You know, sometimes I see so much of Diane in Mary, and she’s just a child. She comes out with stuff that’s way beyond her years. I mean earlier this week she asked me what I thought Executive Order 13769 was going to mean for all those refugees being refused entry…what seven year old talks about stuff like that?”

“A very smart one.” Fliss replied

“Exactly.” Frank nodded “I don’t want that life for her, the pressure associated with being a childhood genius like Diane was. Which is why she’s going to a normal school in September, where she’ll hopefully learn how to be a kid.”

Fliss looked at him.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice it before when she was with the other kids on the lesson.” Frank eyed her and Fliss looked down a little “See, she doesn’t know how to a normal seven year old, well, very rarely anyway. In fact the only time I’ve seen it recently is when she’s at the yard with you.

“She’s just a little socially awkward, that’s nothing to worry about.” Fliss looked at him.

“But I do worry.” Frank sighed

“Yeah, because you care.” Fliss said gently, her hand falling to his arm. “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself and her. She’s a good kid.”

“Yeah, considering I brought her up.” Frank chuckled.

“I think you’ve done a good job so far.” Fliss shrugged “It can’t have been easy.”

“Still isn’t” Frank sighed. “It’s not how I envisaged my life panning out that’s for sure.”

“Tell me about it.” Fliss snorted “If you’d have told me ten years ago that by the time I was thirty-three I’d have had my dreams cut short at the age of twenty-eight, then divorced after being hospitalised by the very man I moved thousands of miles to be with by the age of thirty-two, I’d probably have laughed but here we are.”

“He hospitalised you?” Frank frowned, suddenly feeling an inexplicable surge of anger towards this fucker, one which he really shouldn't feel so strongly considering he had known Fliss for all of a week.

“Did you not read that bit?”

Frank shook his head “No I stopped reading after it mentioned domestic abuse. Like I said, none of our business.”

“He wanted us to have a baby and frankly the thought of bringing a kid up, with him, in that environment…so when I found out I was pregnant I got rid of it. He found out and he beat me so hard he broke three of my ribs, ruptured my spleen and fractured my eye socket. I was in hospital for over a week.” 

“Shit, Fliss, I had no idea…”

She waved his apology away “In a sick, twisted way I’m almost glad it happened. It was the final push I needed to leave him for good. Wasn’t easy mind, I was low. Very low for a while and when the trial was going on…” she stopped again and shook her head “You know he plea bargained? Pleaded guilty to a lesser level of assault and got four years last summer. He’ll be out next June I expect if he applies for parole, which he will because, well, that’s John all over.”

“Fucker.” Frank bit out between gritted teeth.

“Yeah, well it’s behind me now.” she shrugged “I’m in a good place. I’m happy, my business is taking off and it’s a job I love. I have my family and, well, some friends.”

Frank smiled and nodded “What Roberta said before is true you know. We’re harder to get rid of than an STD.”

Fliss laughed loudly and drained her beer bottle “Well I’m glad to hear it, because I kinda like you Sailor.”

“Back at you Cowgirl.”

They changed the subject then, Fliss talking about her horses, in particular her chestnut mare that was her pride and joy, and then when Mary stirred Frank glanced at his watch and realised it was past midnight. He didn’t want to kick Fliss out but when he stood saying he should get the little girl in bed, Fliss nodded and agreed she should be going as it was late.

Frank told her to wait whilst he swept Mary up and carried her into the house before he came back out to walk her down to her car.

“We should do this again.” Fliss offered, “Only this time you can come to me. Although I’m a better cook than BBQ chef.”

“You’re on.” Frank said, “Although don’t mention it to Mary. It’s all I’ll hear about.” Fliss grinned and then leaned up on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Frank. I had a lovely evening.”

He smiled as she climbed into her car and as she set off he tossed a hand at the tailgate as she rounded the corner. Once she was out of view, he turned and headed back inside, contemplating the evening. The chat had been hard going in some places, he hadn’t told anyone about Diane in a long time. Hell, Mary didn’t know a lot about her mother, he tried to keep her sheltered but he knew that as she grew older that was going to get harder to do and justify. With that in mind, he knew exactly how much it must have taken Fliss to open up the way she did.

It left him with a puzzlingly warm feeling in his chest, one he couldn’t really explain. And he had a feeling it was to do with the fact that he actually wanted to spend time with the woman and get to know her, instead of simply fucking her into his mattress.

Yup, for the first time in his life, Frank realised he’d extended an offer of no strings attached friendship to a woman.

And he couldn’t deny, it was nice.

**** Chapter 4

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

[crookswithbooks]

How To Seduce A Talking Cat

Day Ten - Bean helps Elfo come up with strategies on how to seduce their favorite demon and Elfo himself continues to be awkward and terrible at most everything.               

Waking up in a pool of sunlight was usually an enjoyable experience for the demon, but in the wintertime the reflections off the snow were enough that he was practically blinded when he first opened his eyes. Luci slowly uncurled from his position on the windowsill, stretching out his back. What he was not expecting was to be met with the waiting eyes of Elfo, head tilted slightly as he watched him.

Luci stifled a strangled yelp, quickly straightening out. “Okay dude, super creepy.”

“You know you look just like a cat when you sleep,” Elfo told him as the demon hopped off the windowsill. “I half expected you to start purring.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m not a cat,” he grumbled, his tail curling in annoyance. “I’m a demon and I’d kill your parents for half a corn chip.”

“But you don’t like corn chips.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t get it.”

Teasing Elfo was a gamble each time. Sometimes it was as easy as calling him short and sometimes the meaning of his words flew completely over the elf’s head. “You know Elfo, it’s amazing how you’re even less fun in the morning than all the other times of the day. It’s almost impressive in a way.”

“Thank you!”

Luci scampered out the door to go find some drunk scholb to torment, grumbling something about early mornings and annoying elves.

Elfo sighed, flopping back down on the bed. Bean was curled up on her side, having passed out soundly after last night’s shenanigans. Her hair formed a tangled mat around her head and she snored quietly. There had been moments when the sight of her would have set Elfo’s heart aflutter. It still sort of did. Now though, he found his attentions were held by another, more antagonistic force.

“Have you ever been in love?” Elfo asked her distractedly, watching the doorway where Luci’s form had been moments before.

“Mmm… love…” Bean’s murmurings were almost unintelligible, her barely conscious mind slurring her words. “Warm hands… why yes I will join you in your chambers tonight…”

“Like, genuine love,” Elfo continued, oblivious to the fact that Bean was clearly not listening. “Love where you would do anything just to get them to notice you?”

“Do anything…” Bean snorted, pulling her pillow in close so that she was practically straddling the material. “You can do whatever you want to me…”

“But the thing is, the person in question’s not good for you. Like, objectively speaking, just a terrible influence and not a good person to boot. Yet all the same you can’t help falling for their infuriating charms.”

“Boots…” Bean muttered, finding herself more and more awake with every second. “Am I wearing boots in bed?” She kicked them off, groaning as she sat up.

Elfo’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh my goodness. I’m in love with Luci.”

“What?”

Elfo slid off the bed, pressing his hands to the side of his head. “I can’t believe I never realized it before. I just assumed those fluttery feelings in my stomach were hatred, but then I realized they were the same feelings I used to get when I looked at you and I just—”

“Hold up a second,” Bean interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him. This was not the kind of news you wanted sprung on you while dealing with a hangover. “You’re in love with Luci? Luci? The demon? My demon? In love?”

“I think so!” Elfo gnawed on his lip anxiously, not interpreting Bean’s distress. “I mean, now that I think about it, the signs are pretty obvious. I love hanging out with him, whenever he makes fun of me I get all hot and bothered, and sometimes when I look at him I find myself thinking he’s… cute? Like, these aren’t friend feelings, are they?”

“How long have you been in love with Luci?” Bean exclaimed, lost and bewildered at the turn the conversation was taking. “How did I miss this? And why Luci? And why you?”

“I don’t know, a couple months now,” Elfo said in answer to her first question. “At least I think so. It’s hard to pin down. I mean, I’ve always sort of felt this way, if I really track it back, but it’s only recently that I started to be fully aware of it.”

“Am I losing my touch?” Bean gasped. “My best friends were in love and I never realized. I can’t believe it.” She grabbed Elfo’s arm, momentarily pulling him out of his funk and forcing him to look at her. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Elfo shrugged uncomfortably, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I don’t know… I was thinking I would just pine endlessly now that I know how I feel and prolong the inevitable rejection.”

“No, no, no!” It was possibly due to the seven beers she had drunk last night, but Bean found herself weirdly invested in this newfound realization of Elfo’s. She had always found it difficult to navigate her own love life so focusing on someone else’s was a welcome distraction. “You have to tell him.”

Elfo snorted, a derisive noise that shot down any possibility of acceptance. “Please. There is no way that he feels the same way. Luci’s a demon. I’m… well, me. It wouldn’t work.”

Bean folded her legs under her, gripping her hands in concentration. “There’s got to be something…” She racked her brain, digging through her hangover for ideas. After a couple minutes of her doing this and Elfo waiting unimpressed, her eyes shot open with excitement. “I got it! Mistletoe!”

“What?” Elfo frowned. “You want me to grow mistletoe?”

“No stupid.” She stood up, pacing back and forth. “You find a way to get both you and Luci under the mistletoe at the same time, and then once you’ve kissed him you can confess your undying love for him. It’ll be perfect. It always works in those books Derek is constantly reading. I only know because sometimes I use the pages to smoke drugs and accidentally catch glimpses of the words.”

“I don’t know…” Elfo said skeptically. “Who’s to say Luci will even follow the rules of mistletoe? He doesn’t seem like the rule-following type.”

Bean waved a hand, dismissing the idea before it could even take form. “He will.”

“How do you know?”

Bean didn’t answer and Elfo reluctantly followed her as she continued to go through several ideas for their plan.

A day later, Elfo sat at the table in the grand hall with a glass of beer and a stomach full of nerves. Operation Luci-Under-The-Mistletoe was ago, or LUTM as Bean has so affectionately named it. Above him was a mistletoe tied to the rafters. The beer had been Bean’s suggestion, the idea being that Luci would be unable to resist the alcohol and would be forced to sit next to him.

He had been waiting there for nearly fifteen minutes before Luci finally wandered back into the castle. He slipped in through the crack in the doorway, eyes widening as he caught sight of Elfo nervously gripping a glass of shoddy beer. “Oh. Elfo. Hey.”

“Luci!” Elfo exclaimed a bit too loudly. Now that he had named his feelings he found it harder to be around the demon without being awkward. Luci raised an eyebrow and he flushed. “Hey there... bud… how’s your day been?”

“Great. Set two children on fire in front of their parents.” Luci crawled onto the bench, far enough away that he wasn’t technically under the mistletoe. “They screamed for a long time. A couple of times the fire went out and I had to re-light it which was troublesome, but such is the sacrifices I make for art.”

“Geez,” Elfo muttered, queasy just at the thought of it. Of all the people he had to fall for, it had to be a demon. “That sounds… terrible.”

“It was,” Luci agreed dreamily.

“Hey,” Elfo said casually, twisting the bottle on the table in what he hoped was an inconspicuous motion. “I was just getting ready to down a couple of cold ones if you wanted to maybe join me?” He threw in the maybe despite himself, nerves getting the best of him.

Luci examined the cracked bottle containing clearly not cold beer. “Yeah… so, as fun as that sounds, I’m actually good. I was getting ready to go get baked and yell at people in the streets, though, if you wanted to come with me?”

“Sure,” Elfo agreed miserably, setting the bottle back down a little too hard on the table. Plan #1 was a bust, which meant it was back to the drawing board for him.

 A couple days later and Elfo sat loosely tied to the throne with a mistletoe hung directly above him, waiting for Luci to come back from breakfast. The plan now was that Luci would try to help him out and as soon as he was close enough Elfo would slip the knots and kiss him. Elfo was skeptical about the plan as it required Luci wanting to help anyone, but Bean was confident in this one so he went with it. He twisted against the chair, the hard wood digging into his back uncomfortably.

Luci’s amusement when he finally found him was unending and Elfo almost wanted to die right then and there, mistletoe be damned.

“Wow,” Luci whistled appreciatively, circling him. “Just wow. Who did you say did this to you again?”

“The kids from the village,” Elfo muttered under his breath, repeating the words Bean had instructed him to say. It was all the more embarrassing due to the plausibility of the situation. “Could you possibly help me out of here?”

“And you’re really stuck?” Luci clarified, just standing there and, more importantly, not helping him. “Like, you can’t get out at all?”

“No,” Elfo assured him in what he hoped was a convincing lie.

Luci examined him for a moment longer, clearly deciding the truth of the statement. Finally he shrugged, walking towards the still open door.

“W-Wait!” Elfo cried out in a panic, wanting to rush after him but not wanting to give away the fact that he wasn’t really stuck. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to help me?”

“It seems like you’re really stuck in there,” Luci said over his shoulder, strolling out the doorway. “Why would I ruin such a perfect oppurtunity?”

Seconds later he was gone and Elfo slumped against the rope, defeated yet again.

 His third try was a last-ditch attempt and one that he wasn’t proud of by any definition of the word. Tied to the front of his hat was a sprig of mistletoe, making it impossible for anyone to get close to him without being in range of the plant. It was obvious and mortifying if anyone saw him—which, if Bean’s plan was to work, they would have to. Specifically Luci.

Luci took one look at him and burst into laughter, doubling over in amusement. Elfo blushed furiously, bristling at the reaction. “Oh my god, Elfo, man, this is just so desperate. What lady is ever going to want to kiss you with that on your head?”

Elfo didn’t even bother to come up with a response, ripping the hat off and throwing it to the ground. He stormed off, Luci’s laughter echoing down the halls after him.

 Eventually, Elfo was forced to resign himself to the facts. Luci didn’t want to kiss him; that much was obvious. And no amount of tricks, clever ploys, or traditional plants were going to change that. The sooner he allowed himself to accept that, the sooner he could get over the stinging phase of rejection.

He sat curled up in the windowsill of Bean’s room, the place where this whole stupid charade had begun. His knees were pulled up to his chest and in one hand he held a piece of mistletoe, glaring at it with as much hatred as he could muster.

“Stupid plant,” he muttered angrily, crushing it between his fingers. “Stupid Bean, stupid Luci, stupid feelings—”

“Are you talking to yourself again?”

He jumped at the sound of Luci’s voice. He shoved the mistletoe behind him quickly; there was no way he would be able to deal with the embarrassment of Luci catching him holding it.

“No,” he protested, wishing for once that Luci would just go away. As always, Luci ignored his wishes and hopped up on the windowsill opposite him, examining him curiously. “Why are you here? Don’t you have more important things to be doing?”

“Not really. I just finished poisoning the local drinking water, so my schedule’s clear for the next couple hours.” Luci watched him for a moment before his tail snapped out suddenly and snatched the mistletoe from behind Elfo’s back. Elfo gasped, shooting out a hand to retrieve it but it was already too late. Luci smiled, holding up the mistletoe in both their line of sight. “Thinking of kissing someone, huh?”

“I…” Elfo struggled to come up with a convincing story, but between all the plans he and Bean had come up with lately, not to mention his inherently guilty conscious, he found himself all out of lies. “I was, yeah. But they don’t want to kiss me back.”

“How do you know that? Did they tell you?”

“No,” Elfo admitted. “But they don’t have to. They’re super cool and mysterious and I’m… you know.”

“Elfo?”

“Exactly.”

His head drooped in misery. A couple seconds later, however, he felt a soft hand grip his chin and tilt it upwards. He found Luci standing next to him, the mistletoe held squarely over them by his tail. Elfo gaped at the sight, glancing between it and Luci’s face. “But—I thought—”

“I knew what you were trying to do,” Luci admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve known since the beginning. I just thought I shouldn’t give the win to you that easy. And I have to say, it was fun messing with you. Sorry about that. by the way. Bad habits, demon and all that.”

“So then you…” Elfo struggled to deal with the information he was being handed. “You knew that I liked you and you weren’t disgusted?”

“Of course not,” Luci snorted. “Do you know how many things I’ve been with on this planet? You’re hardly the most revolting thing.”

“Thanks,” Elfo said dryly.

“You know what I mean.”

“So you, too…?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Luci snapped, and if Elfo didn’t know better he could have sworn he spotted a faint blush on the demon’s cheeks. He wiggled the mistletoe then, a mischievous look entering his eyes. “Now, I believe I owe you something?”

Kissing Luci was never something Elfo would imagine in even his wildest of dreams, but life, as he quickly found out, was full of surprises. Normally, Elfo was not that fond of surprises, but in this case he decided to make an exception.

#disenchantment #elfo #luci #bean #elfo x luci #twelve days of ficmas #fanfiction

[octalove]

VII: By Invitation Only

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader and Jason go undercover in a Mafia den. Part one, two, three, four, five, and six.

My mind buzzed with the sights and sounds of Little Italy. Boots scuffing sidewalk, and the persistent hum of the moving parts within the heart of the city. Quiet, serious conversations mumbled low between men of business, and enthused gossip among thick-accented women at every café and park. The ever-present stream of conversation in the townhouses and shops was exciting. I fell in seamlessly to the strange mix of wealth among poverty, the stringent immigrant culture surpassing both.

The mission itself was straightforward- the kind of business I actually didn’t expect the Red Hood to bother with himself. He got some info from one of his contacts, Giuseppe Bianchi, whose job was to, according to Jason, “sing like a fuckin’ canary”. Bianchi informed him a week ago that one Adriano Cliffs was trying to strike a deal between two mafia families under Red Hood’s control. It was in the realm of real estate; ‘property’ investments that were actually investments into the nefarious affairs that would be taking place on said properties. According to Bianchi, moving chemicals. Red Hood didn’t care about chemicals; it was part of drug trade or domestic biowarfare or what have you, but it was the principle of them moving under his nose. Trying to grub up some deals he wasn’t a part of.

“With the mafia,” He said. “You give ‘em an inch, they take the whole fuckin’ county.” Thus, our job was to go to a dinner party, unassuming guests, and try to figure out who else was involved, so Red Hood could later pay them a visit.

I didn’t ask if he’d kill them.

I had the invitations in my clutch; beautiful little parchment cards with gold lettering. Thank you, Bianchi. There was a stark contrast between going on a mission in my Batgirl suit, and going on one in a green silk dress. I had no trouble dressing the part of the socialite- and apparently Jason didn’t either. He wore a red satin dress shirt, unbuttoned to feature a plunging neckline, paired with a black blazer that had an asymmetric stand collar. Frankly, I was impressed. It looked better than the suits Bruce used to put him in.

The location of the party was a quaint little townhouse nestled in upper Luskan Square. The building was all cream paint and red brick, with pretty green vines cascading from window planters. I could hear music from inside; raspy strings and jaunty horns in a dixieland, swinging tempo.

The two mafia families were Pellegrino and D’amici; two bloodlines that were previously in a feud so contentious that 1/4 of Gotham City Morgue was full of its casualties at any given time. All that until around four months ago when Kane Pellegrino married Penelope D’amici like something straight out of Romeo and Juliet, but with more guns, cocaine and happy endings.

Jason leaned over to me as we approached, whispering lowly in my ear, “The matriarch- Olivier D’amici- she’s a touch odd. Paranoid. Just keep her busy durin’ the party, and I’ll do the rest. Cliffs should be here, too.” I nodded, and flashed a blue-ribbon smile at the doorman.

“Invitations?” He asked. I gave him the cards, and after a brief inspection, he nodded. We entered the foyer, welcomed by the smell of warm food and laughter. The living room was lit by an elegant and tasteful chandelier. It had a more antique and eclectic charm than the manor’s modern refine. Able to attract less attention if we split up, Jason vanished into dining room while I stayed in the living area, mumbling the occasional polite “excuse me” as I tried to make it seem as though I were a frequent guest of mafia dens. I looked around for a woman matching Olivier D’amici’s description- old, blonde, haggish. I silently kicked myself for not asking Jason to be more specific, because as it turns out, old, blonde and haggish was the memo for tonight’s event.

“Oof-“ I smacked right into what felt like a brick wall in a Versace suit. At least, I was right about the suit. I looked up to see a man of about forty peering down at me. His hair was a rusted gold, and he sported magnificently manicured facial hair- it made him appear very leonine.

“My apologies, dear.”

“Oh, it was my fault. I should be the one apologizing.” I said, suddenly nervous with the idea of being roped into a conversation. I was a fighter, not a liar. He chuckled, took a drink of his undisturbed wine.

“That’s sweet of you. It’s refreshing to find someone around here that isn’t too stubborn for their own good.” He said. “You aren’t from one of the families, are you? I don’t know that I’ve seen you around before.”

“I’m a friend of Penelope’s.” I quickly supplied the lie. Something like surprise flashed in his blue eyes, before his face steeled back agreeably.

“I see.”

“I was actually just looking for her. You wouldn’t happen to know where...?” I trailed off as he nodded his head, gesturing to the opposite corner, where a beautiful olive-skinned brunette appeared to be object of adoration in a small circle of people. I’d never actually seen her before- anyone who entered to living room would’ve notice her immediately.

“Oh!” I laughed. “I don’t know how I missed her! Please, excuse me.”

I took my time inching through the crowd, stalling. But the man didn’t take his gaze off of me until I reached Penelope D’amici, and her pool of admirers. Damn. He was going to keep watching until I talked to her. It would be utterly obvious it was an introduction and not an anticipated reunion. I took a deep breath and dug in my heels.

If you’re going to lie, I could hear Bruce’s voice in my mind. Dedicate yourself to it.

“Penelope!” I called. She turned, planting her stunning, doey brown eyes on me. I pressed a couple friendly kisses to her cheeks.

“Hello!” She said, clearly inured in the art of greeting. I stole a glance to the man, who had moved along just as Penelope gave me a politely curious look.

“Have we- um,” She looked so apologetic, I almost felt bad.

“Louise Casteñes?” I said encouragingly, giving her my fake name. “We met at the wedding.” Penelope’s face went a shade of pink, and she gave me a bashful laugh.

“Oh- the wedding was quite the evening, I’m really sorry if I forgot. You must think I’m so rude.”

“Oh, it was months ago, no need to feel bad.” I offered.

“I saw you talking to Mr. Cliffs. Are you two familiar?” I blinked. Adriano Cliffs. The man trying to sabotage Red Hood- and now was suspicious of me within fifteen minutes of the party. Good fucking going.

“Not really, I just accidentally ran into him. I’m lucky he didn’t spill his wine.” I replied. Penelope laughed, the sound like wind chimes.

“If you asked my grandmother,“ She said. “She’d say he’d deserve it.”

“Olivier, right? Your grandmother?” Penelope nodded.

“Did you meet her at the wedding as well?”

“I didn’t get the chance, I’m afraid.”

Her face lit up and she looped her arm in mine. Together we waltzed through the bodies and expensive antique furniture into the dining room. Jason was nowhere to be seen; he must have begun his hunt for information.

“Oh, you have to meet her! She’s the host.” Once away from the crowd, she leaned close in cospiracy, and added. “And I need an excuse to get away from those people. Looks like you’re my savior tonight.” She winked, and I laughed as she pulled me into a small, secluded reading room.

Olivier D’amici was- well- old, blonde, and haggish. She had pale skin like worn leather and powdery makeup, but her fashionable ensemble of emerald green silk and sapphire jewelry was stylish and unconventionally attractive. She was like a peacock personified. She was indeed a touch odd, and more than a touch paranoid- though not of me. After thirty minutes cradled in scandalous conversation about everything from the horderves to Kane Pellegrino’s bedroom habits, I learned that Olivier stuck her poignantly upturned nose away from the likes of Adriano Cliffs and his slimy business deals. She made no mention of Red Hood, but complained in great detail that real estate competition between the Pellegrinos and D’amicis was a problem solved by the marriage and that was that. Cliffs had been pestering her for months, but she wouldn’t sign a thing. When thirty minutes turned into an hour, I finally caught Jason’s face amidst the party. I hadn’t expected the following relief that washed over me as I excused myself.

We reconvened, settling on a chaise in the lounge.

“I got everything I need.” He said simply, with no further indulgence as to what he’d been up to for the past two and a half hours. I lowered my voice as I updated him on my end.

“Olivier doesn’t want to work with Cliffs- she thinks he wants to break up the families again. Penelope’s marriage was bad for his business.”

Jason nodded thoughtfully. “Good work, little bird.”

“She’s nice.” I added.

“Hm?”

“Penelope. She’s nice. And innocent.”

A beat passed before Jason sighed lightly, and leaned close, eyes moving across the crowd.

“You see that woman over there?” I followed his gaze to a pudgy, but frail woman in a wheelchair who had to be in her late eighties. Her purple blouse was adorned with a matching silk bow on the neckline, as she smiled as she cupped the face of a young boy. A grandchild, perhaps.

“Pepper de LeShapelle.” Jason’s lips grazed my ear for the closeness of them. “If the D’amicis enlist the help of some third party goons- guys just tryin’ to whip up some extra cash, feed their families- and those guys wind up in Finger River afterward, de LeShapelle signed the order. She pays the legal team, too. Been doing it since the eighties.” My gaze fell away from her. “Nobody’s innocent here, dollface. If Penelope is now- which I doubt- she won’t be in a couple years. Maybe she won’t gun anyone down, but she’ll sure as hell be signing the orders for somebody else to do it. That’s D’amici tradition.” I didn’t respond, letting my silence speak for itself. I still couldn’t get the picture of Red Hood pointing a gun at Penelope out of my head.

“Andre! Come, come.” A voice interrupted my thoughts. Jason turned and gave a charming smile to a man with a thick accent in a monochrome black suit. “Pardon, my dear, but I must steal your companion for a moment.” He addressed me. I smiled agreeably.

“He’s all yours.”

Jason- Andre, as it were- left in a blur of suits and pocket watches, and I wandered around the townhouse for a while, busying myself with scones and inspecting baby pictures until ten minutes passed, and the air began to dizzy me.

Nights in Gotham were always pretty; the shadows filled all the cracks and made the flaws too dark to see. In Little Italy, the view from the balcony was particularly breathtaking, with colors like oil paints against a dusk canvas. Stars hung low in the fading light, competing with the twinkling lights of the city below. I could see a ferry steaming along in Finger River. The shade of blue made me realize how the chaos had worn on me. Stepping onto the terrace was a cool and much-needed repose.

After a while, footsteps sounded behind me. They were heavy and relaxed; lazy strides that could only be Jason’s. He was intimidating in his armor, lurching into a fight with fistfuls of firepower and that daunting stance he always took. But somehow, he was more intimidating here, out of his element, with wine and music and satin blouses, affluent society moving around him like water in a stream. He was uncharacteristically poised to pretend. In a fight, I could see the anger, the strain, the stubborn willfulness in the way he trusted completely the momentum of his own body. He was a great combatant, but I knew his moves. I always knew what he wanted. Here, even though I could see his face, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Everyone was his enemy, everyone was his friend. He could smile at a mafia goon and scowl at servant, and feel the exact opposite way. I felt like he was always lying.

Jason sauntered over and leaned against the Romanesque stone railing. He smelled like cologne and wine, and in fact tipped his glass to his lips for a sip.

“Hope it wasn’t too overwhelmin’.” He muttered, eyes falling on the city. He looked apologetic- but perhaps it was the lighting.

“No, it’s fine. I just needed some air.”

Something like glass breaking sounded from inside, followed by a chorus of laughter. He glanced back, amusement dancing on his lips. I wondered if he’d rather be back there; he did so seem to love the fray.

I ran a finger across a crack in the railing. Dick would have loved to know I’d attended a party with the upper echelon of mafia society. I thought I’d remembered a stupid story about his escapades with congressman’s daughter at the G.C. Opera House.

“What’s wrong?” Jason’s low voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked at him, surprised at the expression of interest he wore. I hesitated, shifting my weight as I stalled. Of course I didn’t want to tell him I’d been thinking of Dick.

“It’s stupid.” A beat.

“Yeah? Tell me anyway.” He said, with some finality. Again, I paused.

“Go on, little bird.” He said, drawing almost imperceptibly nearer, dipping his head close, drawing a line between ourselves and the mansionful of strangers. “Tell me.”

I was agonizingly aware of the modest inches between us. “My moms… they loved to travel. Everywhere they went, they always did something- something memorable. They were the life of the party, everywhere. They had a lot of stories.”

He didn’t say anything. It made me nervous, so I kept going to fill the silence.

“They probably came to Little Italy a lot. Probably before I was born. Ma used to tease me, because I never did anything. Or went anywhere. I just studied and… stayed home.”

More silence. I didn’t even want to look at him. He was the Red fucking Hood and I was telling him about my dead moms like he was alcoholics anonymous.

“I can’t help but feel like… I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t disappointing them, really. But I keep thinking how happy and proud they’d be now if they… if I could tell them all the stories I have now.” I concluded, watching cars with golden yellow headlights file like ants down the cobblestone streets.

“Huh.”

I blinked- not really sure what I was expecting out of him. Emotional intelligence-wise, he did die when he was a 15 year old boy. I never really yearned for him to offer me solace; but the way he just looked at me and listened made me feel like I could say anything.

I looked over at him, and he flashed me a toothy, wolfish grin and sipped his wine.

“So, if they were here, what tales would you tell em, darlin’?” He asked, eyeing me with some unreadable plan formulating in his head.

“I… well, I don’t know. I guess I don’t have anything that impressive yet. I’m spending my first ever mafia party on a balcony.”

“Easily remedied. Come on, I’ll get ya another glass.” He stood.

“Well, I‘ve never drank wine either.”

He looked at me with genuine surprise. “Ever?”

I shrugged. He settled back against the railing. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know…” I hesitated. I’d had beer before, and burning liquor in the dark quells of some distant classmate’s basement party. But that, I could barely remember. I added quietly, “It smells bad.” He laughed his uncanny, jagged laugh.

“Yeah?” He gave me a vexatious look. “How ‘bout just a taste?” I glanced at the empty glass hanging in his fingers.

“Too bad you drank it all.” I said teasingly.

“I said a taste, not a sip.”

He drew closer. Leaning on the railing like we were, it was easy to forget my height reached only his chest. Before I could give any forethought to what any of this would mean for me, his calloused fingers were tilting my chin upward, tipping my face toward his. I could feel the warmth of his body and breath- it made the night seem colder, though I knew it was tepid at worst. His lips were soft and considerate when they met mine, gently adding pressure. It was a feather-light, brief thing. What startled me more than the kiss itself was the gentleness of it.

When he pulled away, I breathed, realizing I’d forgotten to. I blinked as he let go of my chin, a small grin playing at his lips as he surveyed my reaction. Realizing he wasn’t going to kiss me again himself, I leaned in this time, butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I did. Jason kissed me back, more enthusiastically this time. His tongue danced against my lips until I parted them, whereupon he slipped it past my teeth. The intimacy cradled me like a blurry dream- I hadn’t at all been expecting to be here with him, tonight, like this; and yet here I was, and not wishing to be anywhere else. Jason was with me- tall, strong, gorgeous Jason Todd- choosing me over all the rich and beautiful people of Little Italy beyond the stained glass french doors of the terrace. Choosing me over the criminals and vagrants he had the power to puppeteer for any purpose he so chose. The way his mouth and tongue felt was dizzying. And he was right; I could taste the wine. Fruity and tangy, with a more earnest, earthy bitterness just below the surface. When my breath hitched, asking for air, he pulled away. After a deep sigh, I leaned into him, letting his arms encircle me, laying my head against the fabric of his shirt.

Our mission was over. We could’ve left any time. But there, then, I couldn’t even associate with the idea of pulling away from him.

#batman daughter #batgirl reader #batgirl #batsister #batfamily imagine #batfam #batsis x batfamily #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x y/n #red hood x reader #batsis x dick grayson #dick grayson #nightwing #batsis x tim drake #tim drake #red robin #damian al ghul #damian wayne #batman and robin #batman #batsis x bruce wayne #bruce wayne

[prettyboybarzal]

i like us like this // jamie benn x reader

summary: jamie benn is the worst blind date you’ve ever been on, and yet he somehow manages to redeem himself.

word count: 5k

author’s note: please enjoy!! (kinda got writers block in the middle of this and had to power through so i hope it’s still as good as i wanted it to be🥴) as always i would love some feedback <3333 

“I want to set you up on a blind date,” Gab said, settling down onto the couch with you. Your groan and the exasperated sigh of her boyfriend, Tyler, in the kitchen sounded simultaneously. “Enough of that,” she grumbled, “and that.” She pointed a warning finger at Tyler. “Let me set you up, pleeeeease.”

“Gab, I’m going to be honest,” you sighed. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“But how do you know?” she asked. “It’s been over a month.”

“It’s been a month and three days,” you argued. “That’s hardly over a month.”

Gab grunted, turning her back to pout in the direction of the television.

The room went silent again as Tyler settled onto the couch beside Gab and tugged her under his arm. You enjoyed the few minutes of silence as the movie she threw on started. You knew that it wouldn’t last long. Gab didn’t go down without a fight, so you were just waiting for her to start pushing for the date again.

It took all of twenty minutes.

“One date,” Gab pushed. Tyler laughed. “It’s with Ty’s best friend, too!”

You looked at her, then over at Tyler. He shrugged.

“Fine.”

If Tyler was friends with this guy, he was probably okay.

The plans were made for the following Friday night. Jamie texted you to confirm that picking you up around 5 would work, which you agreed to, and then he sent the restaurant’s website. That’s when you started freaking out.

“Gab, I do not belong at a restaurant like this!” you yelled as you stormed across the apartment and into her room. She was already smiling when you entered the room. “It’s a five-star restaurant. I eat in our university’s dining hall when I want to eat out! I don’t have clothes for this!”

“Sure, you do,” Gab said. She stood up and tugged you back to your bedroom. As she sifted through the closet, you watched in dismay. It took her all of five minutes to locate the slip dress she was in search of. A little red thing that you’d worn during undergrad once to a date party with your ex.

“The odds of me fitting into that are slim,” you mumbled. Gab rolled her eyes, throwing the garment at you anyway. She tossed herself onto the bed and motioned for you to put it on. And, once the dress was on, you were proved wrong.

“You look hot.”

“I do,” you admitted, staring at yourself in the mirror. Gab laughed. “Time check?”

“You have an hour.” 

Jamie showed up right on time with a knock at your front door. He was wearing a white button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and your eyes immediately found their way to the definition of his muscles and the tattoos on his skin. He was handsome. Certainly your type in the way of looks. You made a mental note to tell Gab she definitely knew your taste in men.

“Nice to meet you, YN,” he said as he leaned in to place a kiss to your cheek. His hand rested against your hip, and you tried not to think about how large he was compared to you. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.” 

Jamie offered one more smile before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the building to his car. You took one peek at the way his hand engulfed yours and decided that unless his personality really sucked, you just might invite him in for a night cap at the end of the night.

The restaurant was incredible. Each table had a pristine white tablecloth across it with candles beside a small arrangement of flowers. Jamie pulled out your chair as soon as you got to the table and, when the waitress came over for drink orders, he ordered the most expensive red wine on the menu.

The date started out great. But, as soon as the food came out, the conversation fell flat.

He asked about school, prompting you to explain your graduate degree program in a total of fifteen minutes. So, naturally, you asked about his career. What you weren’t expecting was the rant that came after.

At the mention of the upcoming season, Jamie’s shoulders seemed to tense up and you couldn’t quite understand why. And, after he grumbled about how frustrated he’s been with the preseason games and practices, he tried his best to move on and talk about something else. It just didn’t happen.

Jamie felt horrible. He hadn’t meant to let it all out like that, but he’d been so busy preparing for the season that he couldn’t think about much else, despite the beautiful woman across from him. He wasn’t an idiot. He caught on to your non-verbal cues that this wasn’t going quite as well as expected. He knew he wasn’t going to get a second date, and he was never going to hear the end of it from Tyler and Gab.

After dinner, Jamie dropped you off at your apartment. He got out of the car, swinging your door open for you in an attempt to salvage the disaster of a date you’d just been on. You smiled at him and fell right into step as you walked up to the building.

“Can we be honest with each other?” You had come to a full stop in front of the building. He nodded at your question, brown eyes studying your face as he waited for you to speak again. “I think you’re really great, and we get along well. But, I don’t think this could work right now.”

Jamie let out a soft tuft of breath and said, “Agreed.”

You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Was he always this short and terse? Did he have a personality outside of his career? It was getting harder and harder to understand why Gab would set you up with this guy.

“Okay, well,” you murmured. “It was nice meeting you, Jamie. Thank you so much for dinner.”

“It was no problem,” Jamie answered. He nodded towards your apartment building. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you up?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

Jamie nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips only for a moment, before he turned away and began the walk back to his car. You turned your back as well and began to mentally prepare for the onslaught of questions from Gab.

“How’d it go?” she asked as soon as you walked through the door. “Will there be a second date?”

“No,” you answered, dropping your sweater over the hook near the door. Gab pouted, looking upset with herself for not picking a better match. You reached out and tugged her into a hug. “It was an okay date, but we both agreed that it just won’t work.”

“What is it? Was he mean to you?” she asked, eyes wide. “Tyler said sometimes he can get a little bitchy.”

“No, it wasn’t that,” you responded, giggly at the thought of Tyler calling his captain ‘bitchy’. “I don’t know, Gab. He just seemed a little on the edge, cranky, serious. He talked about hockey the entire time, which is fine but he just sounded miserable. Also, I didn’t laugh… At all.”

“Seriously?” she asked. She seemed surprised, which shocked you. “I really thought he’d be a good match because his sense of humor is a bit like yours.”

“He really had me in the first half,” you admitted. “Like, Gab, he’s cute as hell. But, the conversation was a downer.”

“Yikes.” That voice didn’t belong to Gab. It belonged to Tyler who had just rounded the corner from Gab’s bedroom. He leaned up against the wall, arms crossed in front of him, and said, “Chubbs is never gonna live this one down.”

“Tyler, if you say one word to him of what I said,” you began. “I’ll kill you.” He laughed. “I know which shampoo and conditioner bottles are yours in the shower. Don’t tempt me.”

Tyler put his hands up in defeat.

“You have my word.”

You saw Jamie a few more times after that date, and each time you exchanged nothing more than ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’, and some polite conversation in between. You were thankful that the date didn’t create an awkward tension between the two of you, and you were super thankful Tyler had kept his promise to keep his mouth shut.

About a week before their season officially began, Tyler planned a party at his house. One last hoorah before the season started to get really busy for him and the boys. You went along with Gab, as usual, excited to see some of the girls you’d gotten to know through her and Tyler.

Tyler’s house was almost filled to capacity, and you’d lost Gab hours ago to the dancefloor or Tyler’s bedroom. It didn’t really matter. You were about three drinks in and feeling yourself.

You slipped into the kitchen to make your fourth drink a little after eleven. It was empty, which was surprising, but you didn’t question it and immediately went in for the liquor. You were pouring a vodka Sprite for yourself, with a heavy hand on the liquor when Jamie’s voice spoke up from the entrance.

“I heard you don’t think I’m funny.”

You spun on your heel, nearly knocking the Vodka over behind you as you did so.

“I told Tyler no to say anything,” you grumbled. Jamie raised an eyebrow at you as he settled into a stool at the kitchen counter. “If he shows up to practice bald next week, don’t be surprised.”

“Actually, Gab told me.”

“What?” you asked. “Why did she tell you I said that?”

“She yelled at me,” he said. “Told me that I fucked up.”

“Jesus.”

“S’okay,” he murmured. He walked over to where you were standing, and grabbed a cup from beside you. “I think maybe I did. I spent way too much of that date talking about myself.” Your cheeks warmed at his admission, and the tension seemed to roll off his shoulders. Suddenly, he was grinning from ear-to-ear. “What are you drinking?”

“Vodka Sprite,” you answered, turning to face the drinks with him. He nodded, eyes scanning the counter filled with liquor. He grabbed the Vodka, then the Sprite with a satisfied smirk. You laughed. “Copycat.”

“Where’ve you been all night?” he asked. “I saw Gab a while ago before her and Ty slipped down the hallway, but I haven’t seen you.”

“I was with Roope for a while,” you answered, eyes glancing toward the doorway. Jamie put the Vodka down and glanced at you with a raised brow. You returned his gaze.

“He’s a little young for you, no?” he asked. You stared at him, blank faced and shocked that he’d said that. And then he grinned. “I’m kidding!”

“Oh! He can joke!”

“Here we go,” he mumbled. He finished up his drink and took a sip from it. He leaned his hip against the counter, jabbing a finger in your direction. “I’ll have you know that I’m actually very funny. I think I was just having an off night.”

“Well, then, how’s tonight looking for you?”

“Good, I think,” Jamie answered. He looked down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Why don’t you hang around me and find out?”

For some reason, you chose to do as he asked. You spent the night by his side, being tugged from the beer pong table to the living room couch, back to the beer pong table. And, much to your surprise, Jamie was making you belly laugh almost the entire time. He seemed looser, happier that night. The weight of prepping for the season had finally been pushed aside, and he was ready to start the season off on a good foot.

Maybe Gab was right about setting the two of you up.

A little after midnight, you stepped out onto the porch with a water bottle in hand. The sliding glass door opened behind you and Jamie stepped out to join. He walked over to where you stood by the railing and leaned his back against it. He turned his face to the stars.

“I like you like this,” you murmured. Jamie looked back at you, his facial expression unreadable for only a moment before a smirk split his face. “You’re a lot more relaxed. Some might even go as far as saying you’re kinda funny.”

“Thank you,” he said with a laugh. You giggled, looking back out at Tyler’s backyard. Jamie turned as well, bumping your shoulder as he did so. “I’m sorry about our date, by the way.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you murmured. He shook his head.

“It’s really not, YN,” he urged. “I was a complete dick. I couldn’t put my stress away long enough to get to know you, and I was mad at myself for days after.”

“Mad at yourself?”

“So mad,” he repeated. You laughed, dropping your face into your hands to stop him from seeing your blush. He kept talking. “You looked so good in that red dress. And you were so sweet, and funny. And, oh my God, I couldn’t get over how cute you looked when you were admiring the restaurant.”

“I don’t go to five-star restaurants often!” you exclaimed. Jamie barked out a laugh. “It was such a nice restaurant.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite,” he murmured. He took another sip of his drink. “Did you like the wine, though?”

“Yeah, Jamie,” you answered. “I loved that wine.”

You stood out on the deck with him for a little longer, chatting about everything but hockey. He asked you questions about your degree and your family and how you ended up living with Gab. He told dumb stories about Tyler that made tears come out of your eyes.

“I like your laugh,” Jamie whispered after you managed to stop laughing. You looked up at him, heart pounding in your chest, and smirked.

“Yeah, I bet you like it now that you’re the reason for it.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed. And then you were laughing again, and he made a promise to himself to keep getting you to laugh like that. “Would this Jamie get a second date?”

“I mean, he could definitely try,” you said, playful smile still on your lips.

“What are you doing this Tuesday?”

And, so, you went on a second date with Jamie. And then a third, and a fourth.

Each date was a date. Like, dinner reservations at fancy Dallas restaurants that you’d never even batted an eye at on your graduate student budget. Jamie remembered what you said about how you’d never been to a five-star restaurant, and he decided to make that a thing of the past. Gone were the Netflix dates you used to have with your ex. Jamie made sure to treat you right.

But he was also taking things way too slow.

He kissed you goodnight after your second date, and then both hello and goodbye on the third.

It wasn’t until the fourth date, and an entire bottle of wine, that you got that goodbye make out. In your past experiences, it never took this long to get a guy in bed. And, yet, Jamie hadn’t even tried.

So, on your fifth date and after about three weeks of talking every day, you had to ask.

“You’re not seeing anyone else, right?” you asked, coming to a stop three steps away from your front door. The question had been at the forefront of your mind all night. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping with you because he was getting it somewhere else.

“No,” he answered. His eyebrows drew together in concern as he thought over your question. And then his eyes widened. “Are you seeing anyone else?”

“No!”

Jamie smiled and reached out to tug you into him. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up against his chest. His free hand wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled your lips to his. Just before kissing you, he murmured against your lips, “Good.”

You reveled in the feeling of his fingers when they laced through the hair at the back of your neck and the way his other hand slid down the curve of your ass without a care for who could see. And, when he sucked on your lower lip, Jamie nearly lost it at the soft moan that fell from your lips.

He swore he would have kept kissing you in that hallway for hours, not a care in the world. And you felt the same.

When you finally pulled away, mostly for a breath of fresh air, you leaned your forehead against his with a sigh. Jamie chuckled, tilting his head to place a kiss against your cheek.

“Remember when you didn’t want to go on another date with me?” he asked, pulling away completely. You nodded, the redness of your cheeks giving away your embarrassment about not seeing what was right in front of you that night. He took your hand in his and walked toward your apartment door.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Benn,” you warned teasingly. “My midterm exams are coming up. I’m about to be swamped, so our next date might have to wait.”

“We don’t have to do dinner, you know,” he said, leaning against the wall beside your door. “If you’re grabbing coffee and studying somewhere, I’d come by to see you for a little impromptu date.”

You eyed him skeptically, doubting that it was something he’d want to do. In your eyes, Jamie was still too good to be true, and he was a professional athlete. Once he saw you in your natural, stressed out student habitat, the glimmer was going to fade. You had yourself convinced.

“Maybe,” you said before leaning forward and kissing him goodnight. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

It took all of one week for you to cave. You spoke to Jamie almost every day, and even that wasn’t enough. You wanted him near you, close, and he wanted the same. He made it known every single day. So, you caved. You invited him to meet you at the Starbucks around the block from your apartment building with one rule. He couldn’t distract you while you studied.

That morning, you shuffled around your room looking for something that was comfortable enough for studying but also cute enough to impress the new man in your life. But, you were quickly reminded that you haven’t had to impress any guys in a while. Damn long-term relationships.

You ended up throwing on joggers and an over-sized t-shirt with a pair of slip-on Vans before slipping out your apartment door with your backpack.

Studying started out okay, but you could feel Jamie watching you from the opposite side of the booth. You wished you could read his mind, figure out what he was looking at you for. Did he think you looked too much like a bum? What did he think of your glasses? They weren’t exactly trendy anymore.

You were trying your best to ignore him, and the questions in your head, despite the overwhelming desire to lean over and kiss his smirk off his face. But, when you saw him reach across the booth and felt him tug the earbud from your ear, you knew your concentration was going to go down the drain.

“What?”

“I like you like this,” Jamie said. Your heart skipped a beat, and then you remembered saying those words to him just a month prior. Your cheeks turned a light pink beneath his gaze.

“You like me like this?” you asked, motioning to the lazy day outfit you were in. “Stressed out?”

“No, not stressed out,” he answered with a chuckle. “You look good, even if you are stressed.”

“Jamie, I haven’t showered in two days,” you admitted. He barked out a laugh. “Dry shampoo is my best friend.”

“That’s what that smell is?” he teased. You ripped a piece of paper out of your notebook to crumple it up and throw at him. He shifted out of its way. “I’m kidding, YN.”

“I know,” you mumbled. You redirected your attention to the textbook in front of you, and began reading again. Jamie stayed for another forty minutes, alternating between reading his book and watching you.

He did really like the way you looked sitting across from him in that coffee shop. He liked that you weren’t as put together as he usually saw you, and to him it meant you finally had your guard down. He liked the way your hair was gathered in a bun on top of your head and he thought you looked cute as hell in those glasses that sat on the bridge of your nose.

He might’ve even said he liked this look more than those slip dresses and heels you wore out to dinner. But, then again, those were sexy as hell too.

Jamie was beginning to wonder if he’d ever find a side to you that he didn’t like.

When it hit noon, he decided it was time to go and grabbed your hand from where it rested on your books. You looked up at him, tugging one of your earbuds out as you did.

“I’m leaving,” he said. You couldn’t stop yourself from pouting in response. He let out a soft groan and leaned forward to place a kiss against that pout. When he pulled away, he stood to leave, grabbing his things with him. “When you’re done with these exams, we’re going to celebrate.”

“96!” you exclaimed into the phone as you fell back onto your bed. “I got a 96 on my last midterm exam.”

“That’s awesome, babe,” Jamie murmured into the phone. “And right on time, too.”

It had been a week and a half since the last time you saw Jamie at the coffee shop. Between your midterm schedule and his game schedule, time didn’t allow for date nights. You kept each other off the ledge through texts and quick phone calls, chatting about the plans you wanted to make when your schedules freed up again.

Jamie promised to celebrate as soon as your exams were done, and he pulled through. He’d planned for everyone to come by his place that Friday night. The fact that your last grade came back before the pregame began made his plans just a little bit sweeter.

He picked you up not long after your phone call, and brought you back to his place where some of your friends were already waiting. Gab and Tyler showed up not too long after your arrival and the pregame was in full swing.

After making your rounds, you found Jamie in the kitchen. He was pouring himself another drink when you approached, wrapping your arms around his waist to pull his back into your chest. He chuckled softly.

“You know you didn’t have to get everyone together for this occasion, right?” you asked. Jamie nodded as he turned to face you. “Like, it was just my midterms. The semester isn’t even close to over.”

He reached up to cup your cheeks, and leaned in to place a kiss against your lips. When he pulled away, he said, “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ll celebrate you like this during finals, too.” 

Your heart fluttered at his tone of voice, and the way he was looking at you. You felt like the only girl in the world with the party in the other room was momentarily forgotten.

About an hour later, you were in the VIP section of a club and wrapped up in Jamie’s arms, literally. He went all out, as usual. You were quick to tell him he didn’t need to do things like this, and he was quick to kiss you quiet.

“I want to do these things for you,” he murmured against your lips as he walked you backwards towards the dancefloor. He spun you in his arms, and you happily pressed your back against him as you danced to the music blasting from the DJ booth.

This was the closest you’d ever been, save for the few make-outs in his car after dinner but even then, the center console was always in the way. Right then, there was nothing preventing Jamie from touching you, holding you close. Except maybe all the people in the club, and that damn dress you were wearing. He wanted it off.

His fingers slid down your thigh, brushing along the hem of your dress, and you were putty in his hands. You turned, taking his chin in your hand to pull him in. You kissed him like you were the only people in the club, even with Tyler and Gab’s hollering beside you.

You hardly made it back to your apartment that night. You were both so giggly drunk when you stumbled into the cab. As soon as the cab’s door closed to the outside world, Jamie’s hands were all over you. He tugged your legs over his lap and pulled you close to kiss you, one hand resting between your thighs just above your knees.

His touch lit your skin on fire.

You made out the entire way home, the entire way up the elevator, only stopping when you had to open the door to your apartment. Even then, Jamie’s hands rested on your stomach and his lips pressed up against your neck and your shoulders, any inch of skin it could touch.

“I’m proud of you,” he murmured against the shell of your ear. You sighed happily, turning the key in the door’s lock and pushing the door open. “Even if it was just midterms.”

You laughed at the way he mimicked your voice, then slipped out of his grip. Your heart was pounding from nerves and excitement. This moment felt all too real. You’d been wanting to go farther, wanted him in bed the first night you met him. But now, right as it was about to happen, you were a bundle of nerves.

“You hungry?”

“Little bit,” he answered, following you into the kitchen. He leaned up against the counter as you sifted through the frozen foods you’d stocked up on for drunken nights like these. “The team nutritionist is going to hate me this season after spending all this time with you.”

“Well, then, you should stock my fridge up with healthy things then,” you stated. Jamie chuckled and took a step forward to wrap his arms around your waist. Your search for late-night snacks was momentarily forgotten as he brushed the hair from your neck and placed a kiss against your skin.

“Why don’t we,” he started. He kissed the space just below your ear before continuing, “just look for snacks later?”

You turned in his arms, dropping your own arms around his shoulders. He smiled down at you as his eyes studied every bit of your face. You sighed softly, lifting one hand to run through his hair.

“I like you,” you whispered. He grinned. “A lot.”

“I’m crazy about you,” he responded. Jamie picked you up, and your legs wrapped around his waist immediately. He asked again, “Snacks later?”

“Sure.”

Jamie carried you to your bedroom, dropping you onto the mattress with a laugh before his lips were back on yours and his hands were sliding up your thighs. Your dress was gone in seconds, and then you helped him out of his own clothes.

Jamie took his time, admired every bit of your body. He didn’t want to forget any of this moment. He was crazy about you, every piece of you, and he was thanking his lucky stars that you agreed to go on a second date with him after the dumpster fire of a first one.

“I like us like this,” you whispered into his ear a few minutes after you finished. Jamie’s lips ghosted the skin of your collarbone as he peppered kisses along your skin to your shoulder. He looked up at you, brushing the hair out of your face before placing a kiss against your lips.

“God, me too,” he sighed. “I really like us like this.”

You burst out giggling as you laced your fingers in his hair, and Jamie watched you. He was completely enamored with you, everything about you. And then he started laughing with you because who wouldn’t?

“Do you want a snack now?”

“Did I not just have one?” he asked, glancing down at your naked body still pressed up against him. You laughed.

“That was awful,” you told him through giggles. Jamie chuckled, nuzzling his face into your neck as you continued to make fun of him. “I’m not just a snack. I’m a damn meal, Jamie Benn.”

“Don’t I know it!” Jamie exclaimed, rolling onto his back. You laughed. “Alright, let’s get snacks.”

“Okay, okay,” you mumbled. You stood up and grabbed his shirt, throwing it on like a dress. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Jamie was sitting on the counter with two pints of ice cream in his hands, waiting for you. You nudged yourself between his legs, sighing happily when he handed one of the pints to you. The apartment was silent and Jamie had wrapped his legs around your body to keep you close to him.

After a few minutes, Jamie spoke up, “I like us like this, too.” You smiled up at him. “Just for the record.”

“Me too,” you agreed. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your lips. “I like us all the time.”

#jamie benn fic #hockey imagine #mk writes #jamie benn #jamie benn imagine #dallas stars imagine

[falcon-eye]

So I’ve been writing on my phone and this one almost made me lose my shit because when initially hitting “copy” I accidentally hit “paste” and deleted the entire fucking thing. Thank GOD gmail keeps a copy of your notes. Holy shit.

Again made for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU

Veko and Eloise’s domestic adventures continue! I’m so happy people actually like them! I’ve grown so close to them both. This will be part of their bigger story, because since I’ve been writing on my phone they’ve been really small and when I expound on them I want to add more details before all this, like about Veko and Hamra and all that. So consider these teasers I guess? That’s why the endings feel so abrupt. Or that’s the excuse I keep telling myself. I don’t know. But when I finally post everything it will be on AO3, and I may put these little ficlets on AO3 as a fic as well.

Anyway hope you enjoy this one! Veko and Eloise return!

——————

The next time Veko saw Eloise was just as bizarre as the first. Except this time, she ended up helping him as opposed to him saving her father again. It was, somehow, even more awkward.

It was a few weeks of a full year later. What was supposed to just be one kikimora turned into a while nest, and despite this, the alderman barely wanted to pay him what he said he would for the one kill, let alone a whole cluster of them. He wouldn’t even let Veko inside. Luckily it had almost literally just stopped raining. But it was getting to the point where Veko was having to take a few calming breaths between the arguing; the alderman was a miserable prick, but Veko didn’t want to snap on the guy.

“You take what I give ye an’ be done with it!” the alderman shouted, reaching for the dagger at his belt. “Or you’ll get no coin and—“

“Husband!” a woman’s voice rang out. Veko and the alderman jumped; fucking rain and yelling, making Veko’s senses dull. A small force practically ran into him from the side and wrapped a hand around his elbow. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Uh—“

“Eloise!” the alderman exclaimed. Oh shit, that’s where Veko knew her from! “Nothing t’ worry about, this Witcher was jus’ leaving.”

Eloise turned to Veko, pressing closer. “You were?” she asked, faking concern to apparently Veko’s ears only. “But darling, you just got here!”

Veko’s mind went totally blank. “Hello?” he said dumbly.

The alderman’s eyes narrowed. “What?” he hissed. “Eloise, this man—“

“Is my beloved,” Eloise cut in. The alderman’s mouth shut with an audible click. “Last year, don’t you remember? The Witcher that saved my father from those drowners!”

Veko continued to stare at her.

“But—“ the alderman stammered.

“Now what’s with all this shouting over here?” Eloise barreled on.

“I sent this Witcher here to kill the kikimora roamin’ about,” the alderman said.

Eloise gave Veko’s arm a little shake to snap him back into the conversation. “I, uh,” he stammered. “It wasn’t just one. There was a whole nest.”

Eloise clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped dramatically. “A whole nest!” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the townspeople nearby. “My goodness! I’m so glad it’s been taken care of! Oh, Lennart, I don’t know what we would have done had a whole nest of those beasts descended upon the town!”

People were starting to whisper. The alderman—Lennart’s heart rate sped up. “Oh, well yes, I, eh, was good indeed.” He looked like he was trying to both glare at Veko and keep the shock of Eloise’s outburst off his face at the same time—and failing.

Eloise finally let go of Veko and took the alderman’s hands. “Do you need help with the coin?” she asked innocently. “For the additional kikimora? I know things have been difficult since Nora left—“

“I can handle it!” Lennart exclaimed, eyes darting around at the growing mass of people who’d come to hear about the monsters. The alderman patted Eloise’s hands and laughed nervously. “I mean, that’s alright dear! I-I’ve plenty of coin for the Witcher here! Let me—I’ll go get it.”

Lennart raced back into his house and the crowd of people began to disperse, clearly boring of the now dwindling conversation. Veko was still not sure what the fuck just happened. But before he could ask, the alderman burst back outside and practically threw a pretty hefty sack of coin into Veko’s hands.

“Splendid!” Eloise exclaimed, and then turned to Veko one more. “Shall we go, darling?”

Veko nodded, letting himself be led away, once again, by this bizarre woman. But just before Lennart went back inside, Veko turned to him, held up the bag of coin, and winked. Lennart turned an ugly red and slammed the door behind him.

“Fucking weaselly prick,” Eloise hissed. Veko guffawed.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Where did you even come from? How did you find me? What—what the hell was that?!”

Eloise held up a hand and ticked answers off her fingers. “I was in town putting an order for paints in, saw your horse tied to a tree near the edge of town, and Lennart is a right prick but easy to exploit because of it. His wife Nora left a few weeks ago with some adventurer who came through town. She knew he’d been trying to bed any girl in sight and rightfully left.”

Veko pocketed the bag of coin. “Well I’m not going to complain,” he said.

Eloise tucked her hand into the crook of his arm again. “Are you planning on staying?” she asked. “Papa says it’s supposed to rain; he can feel it in his knees, he says.”

Veko started itching at his burns. “I, uh—“

“Right, coming with me then.”

Veko laughed again and Eloise guide the way.

——————————————————

For having apparently acquired Eloise and her home, this was the first time Veko had actually been inside. It was cozy, the walls painted a pale pink and yellow. The kitchen was warm and smelled amazing, Eloise having apparently left something cooking while she’d been out.

Peering into the next room, the apparent main room of the house, Veko found bottles of paints and an assortment of brushes set up at an easel against the far window (splattered in paint); blank canvases were piled behind it. But actually giving the room a look-around, his attention was immediately drawn to the walls lined floor to ceiling with the most beautiful paintings Veko had ever seen.

Landscapes of what Veko recognized as the local stream and the goat paddock out back, faces he didn’t recognize but could have started up a conversation with him with how real they looked, random assortments of everyday items put together to make some interesting structure—there was art everywhere.

Veko didn’t realize he was gaping until he heard Eloise chuckle. “Like what you see?” she asked.

“They’re amazing,” Veko replied, reaching towards a painting of a young boy.

“Don’t touch!” Eloise snapped; Veko jumped. “Sorry, sorry, they’re just—when they dry the colors fade of you touch them.”

“Sorry,” Veko said, shoving his hand into his pocket.

Eloise shook her head. “It’s always been a dream of mine to be a famous painter. Sometimes I get commissions or sell some in Oxenfurt. There’s a man who comes by to take them to market every now and then. Anyway, apparently my father went to bed early,” she said. “Stew?” Eloise chuckled. “I can paint a delicious meal but actually cooking it, eh...”

Now it was Veko’s turn to laugh. “I’d love some, whatever it tastes like,” he said. “And—thank you, for that shit with the alderman.”

Eloise waved him off. “Honestly? Bringing you up has been doing wonders around here,” she said.

As Veko sat down at the table, he remembered: “Did you call me husband?”

“How long ago was that and you’re just realizing that now?”

“In my defense, you came out of nowhere!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be this great warrior with heightened senses?”

Instead of answering, Veko leaned forward and smirked. “You think I’m great?”

Eloise stared at him for a moment before scoffing and shoveling a spoonful of soup into her mouth. “A great pain in my arse,” she said, “and you’ve only been here five minutes.”

“Might I remind you that you’re the one who dragged me here.”

“Yeah, because you looked like a bloody kicked puppy when I asked!”

“Kitten.”

Eloise blinked. “What?”

Veko tapped his medallion. “I’m from the School of the Cat, so I’d be a kitten.”

There was a moment of silence before Eloise let out a ‘PFFFT!’ and burst out laughing. “Did you really just—“

“I can leave right now!” Veko exclaimed, but there was no heat behind it. Eloise’s laugh was loud and hoarse, hardly ladylike or cute, but for some reason Veko liked hearing it. He wanted to hear it again.

Eloise wiped tears from her eyes. “Just eat your stew, Witcher,” she said.

“Veko,” Veko said. “My name is Veko.”

“Veko,” Eloise repeated, like she was getting used to how it sounded. “Nice to officially meet you, husband.”

Veko started scratching his burns. “Oh gods.”

Eloise smacked his hand like she’d done last year. “Stop doing that,” she snapped. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“I’ve had it for fifteen years; I don’t think it’s going to get worse.”

Eloise was quiet. “How—? Never mind.”

“No, it’s ok,” Veko reassured her. “My brother and I got into a fight. Or something. I can’t remember. But it was an accident, either way.”

“Is your brother also a Witcher?”

Veko nodded, having just stuffed his face with stew again. “Yah,” he said, his mouth full. He swallowed. “Identical twins, actually. Though my hair’s longer and he’s a bit bulkier than I am. His name’s Hamra.”

“Veko and Hamra,” Eloise said, “twin Cat Witchers, huh?”

“Yes ma’am,” Veko replied. Over the course of the meal, Veko explained the basics about the Cats and their caravan, how they worked and why they occasionally split up. Eloise, for her part, only asking questions when he’d finished a story and let him talk most of the conversation. Normally, talking is what Veko was used to, but both times he’d been with this woman she’d shocked him into silence. It was nice to be comfortable again.

Night settled quickly and when they finished their respective meals, Eloise took both their bowls to wash. “I’m going to set a cot up for you,” she said over her shoulder.

“What, no bed?” Veko teased.

“Other than my father's bed, there’s only one other and it’s mine,” Eloise replied.

“Not enough room for husband and wife?”

Eloise suddenly turned serious. Without even turning to him she said, “I’ll not bed you, Witcher.”

Veko held his hands up in surrender, even though her back was still turned. “Ok,” he said softly. “Just messing around, sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you, truly.”

Eloise sighed deeply and finally turned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just. I don’t want that. From anyone, ever. It’s—it’s hard to explain. Just thinking about... that... makes me... extremely uncomfortable.”

Veko nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I mean, I don’t, but I respect that.”

Eloise smiled. “Thank you,” she said.

“Is that why me being your husband is useful?” Veko asked; Eloise’s heart rate sped up. “I don’t have a problem with that!” he quickly assured her. “It’s just, last year you said something to that effect.”

Eloise looked him in the eye for a moment, maybe trying to assess if he was telling the truth? And then nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s no problem here,” Veko said. “Gods know I only really come through this area once a year. I could swing by to keep up appearances.”

“And I could help you bleed Lennart dry of all his coin.”

Veko smirked. “I like the way you think.”

Eloise smirked back. “I think this is going to be a very successful partnership.”

#the witcher #witcher oc #accidental warlord au #inexplicifics #falcon writes

[everlarkficexchange]

You're Not Alone

My apologies to the anon who submitted this prompt. I wish I could have had it done but like so many others, I find myself busier than ever. I am still working on it and I wanted to at least post part 1.

Prompt 70: Peeta picks up a hitchhiker in the mountains one night, only to find it’s his childhood best friend and now escaped convict Katniss Everdeen. In a panic he calls police but after hearing her side of the story comes to believe she didn’t actually murder anyone. Everlark on the run. [submitted by anonymous]

Written by @sunsetsrmydreams.  

Rated NA

Beta’d by @justajjfan, all mistakes are mine. Subject to change.

It’s dark, so dark that without the bright headlights, you couldn’t see a hand in front of your face…and it’s fucking freezing.   

   Peeta punches the buttons again, trying to force the heater to work a little faster, even though he knows it’s pointless. 

His car rattles with the effort and he prays that the old beast won’t leave him stranded on the side of the road. He’s not sure anyone would be there if he needed help. So, with a calm pat to the dash he stops messing with it and tries to get used to the cold. 

   Mother had put him on the early shifts after graduation and after 4 years, seemed to delight in his exhaustion. He was now too tired to fight back when she started on him about this or that and it made him feel just like his father, worn down and defeated. The thought makes him ill. It almost seems normal for him to feel so much older than his 22 years after working to that kind of daily grind year in, year out.   

All his friends had all gone off to college, far away from this little mountain town…but not him. There was no money for a third son’s education, especially since his brothers were off with their successful careers, leaving the responsibility of the Bakery all to him at 3! FUCKING! AM!  

   Peeta continued to work the double shifts so he could pay for the community college classes he took two towns over and giving up was not an option. Not if it meant he could someday leave the Bakery, his parents, this entirely unsatisfying life, all of it gladly behind him. 

  He sighs tiredly, rounding another corner on the pitch black of the mountain road. His foot hits the brake.

 Shocked. His eyes blink and a figure comes into focus. 

   What the hell? 

   Peeta slows the car and as it crawls closer, he can make out the small form of a woman who has a coat tightly clutched around her form as is limping down the side of the road. 

   Never pick up hitchhikers. That’s what he’d always been told, but Peeta wasn’t about to let this person freeze to death…not on his watch. 

   Pulling up beside her, Peeta rolls down the window and whatever heat the interior managed to accumulate, wafts out of the window and he grits his teeth against the cold. 

  “Miss, are you okay?” he asks, but the woman doesn’t turn to look at him and he notices her posture is rigid and fearful.

“I was just on my way to work so if you need a ride to town, I can drop you somewhere. Or you can come to the Bakery with me and use the landline. I know the cell service is bad out here,” Peeta tacks on the last part because he doesn't want her to think he’s presumptive.  

   She turns towards him, and at the sight of her shadowed features, Peeta starts to babble. “I work at Mellark’s Bakery, have you been there? Our baked goods are pretty popular and it’s not too much further.” 

He finally manages to stop talking and watches as she carefully opens the door and slides into the seat. 

 Her bones seem to creak from the cold and as soon as the doors closes, he starts pushing buttons again trying hard not to stare at the woman in the passenger seat beside him as they continue the drive to town. 

   “Are you new here?” Peeta asks just to break the silence, “I’ve lived here my whole life. My brothers left years ago but I’ll probably be stuck here since I’m the baby–” 

   “Peeta?”  

   His name, whispered like a question causes him to jolt and swerve slightly and he’s lucky no one is on the roads at this early hour. 

   “Yeah. Do I know you?” He sneaks a quick glance at her. He can’t see much but he can tell she’s pretty.

   “It’s me…Katniss.” 

Tires screech as he slams on the brakes, once they’re at a full stop at the side on the road Peeta switches on the dome light and takes a good look at her.

  Katniss Everdeen. His childhood best friend and first love. Her entire family disappeared from town the year they both turned fifteen. There were rumors that the family was relocated due to Mr. Everdeen’s job but that had never sat right with Peeta. There were no calls, no notes, nothing from her to let him know she was okay. She was just…gone.

  Peeta was depressed for months, but his mother repeatedly assured him that Katniss was probably just happy to be rid of the chubby bumbling boy he was back then.He had never stopped wondering about her though.

  “Katniss?” He tests her name as his eyes move over sharp cheekbones and pale skin. She looks frail, not at all the healthy, olive skinned girl he knew when he was younger. Her hair was still dark as a raven’s wing, but it was her eyes that made him believe. 

  Light gray and impossible to forget. 

  “Oh my god, Katniss! Where have you been!?”  Peeta didn’t expect her to break down at his words and was horrified when tears began to pour from her eyes. Shuddered sobs shook her frame as he watched helplessly from the driver’s seat.

  “We don’t have to talk about it now.” Pulling back on to the main road, he sped towards the Bakery. He could fix this..she just needed a warm drink and a cheese bun, those had always been her favorite.

“It’s going to be okay, Katniss.”

Distraction made the drive seem fast. They were pulling up to the side door of the Bakery in no time. Peeta shut the car off, moving carefully so he didn’t startle her.  She was half asleep and shaking so he kept his voice low and calm. 

  “I’m going to come around and help you get inside, okay? Then we’re going to figure all this out.” At her weak nod, he gets out and walks quickly around to the passenger side and opens the door. She spills into his arms. He helps her stand, bracing her against his side for the short walk, holding Katniss securely with one arm as he unlocks the door and flings it open. 

After half dragging Katniss to the office, and slowly shifting her onto the overstuffed leather couch, he races in to make a hot cocoa and warm a few of yesterday’s pastries. When Peeta returns he finds her unconscious and panic sets in.   

It takes her a couple minutes to come around with him shaking her shoulder and saying her name repeatedly, finally a  slow blink and then two and he lifts the cup under her nose.

  “You need to drink this, it’ll warm you up.” Katniss looks at the cup suspiciously and it makes him wonder what has happened to his friend in the years she was away. 

  “It’s hot cocoa.” Her eyes brighten slightly and Peeta smiles. “And I brought some pastries too.” he offers and her eyes widen.

  “Is that…are those cheese buns?”

  “You remember them?”

  “I remember everything about this place. I was happy here.”

  “What…what happened to you? Why were you out there?”

  Katniss looks down. Peeta follows her eyes and lands on the bright orange of a prison jumpsuit.

  He struggles to understand why she would be wearing it and it must show because with a shuddered breath, Katniss speaks.

  “If I told you I was in prison for killing a man, what would you do?” She asks.

  “I’d ask what he did to you. The Katniss I knew, would never do something like that unless it were life or death.”

  “People change, Peeta.” 

  “Yes. But not you…not that way. Please, I know it’s been years but I…know you Katniss. I care about you. And I’ll help if you’ll let me.”

  “It’s not safe. I can’t….it’s not safe.” She starts to panic, trying to stand but her muscles quake and she falls back. “There are people after me. Powerful, dangerous people.”

  “I know someone who can help but you’re not going to like it given what you’re wearing.” 

  She pales, afraid to ask the question.

  “I want to call the Sheriff.”

  “Are you crazy! You think the law is going to help me?” She grits.

  “You’re obviously terrified Katniss! We need someone on our side!”

  “Why do you think anyone would be on my side ,Peeta?”

  “I’m on your side and he has known us both since we were in diapers. He’ll believe you, I know it.”

  “No.” 

  Her voice was still ringing in his ears and hour later. Their short conversation had zapped what little energy she had left. Her eyes sliding shut against her will. 

Peeta sits quietly and contemplates her situation. She needs protection and he might not be enough. He stands and moves to cover her with a blanket before walking haltingly over to the phone, taking one last look at her sleeping face…he dials.

  “Sheriff Abernathy, it’s Peeta. I need your help.”

#Springtime Edition 2020 #sunsetsrmydreams #prompt 70 #submission

[naptoons]

Official Girl— Zion Kuwonu

Warnings: mild mature language.

Theme: Angst / Fluff ??? I guess I vauguely know the diff.

Summary: you and Zion have been together for almost half a year, but it didn’t feel like it cause when it came down to the public eye, he was single. And you were just his friend.

A/N: I did not proofread any of this so if there’s some spelling errors I apologize, and I hope it isn’t cringe! Enjoy🖤

You and Zion have been dating for almost a year and to your surprise no one even knew expect the PRETTYMUCH members along with their girlfriends. Neither of your family members knew either. You had a million thoughts going through your brain debating which thought was the placebo of why he would want to hide your relationship for almost a year. Don’t get it wrong, your relationship is great, he makes you happy. But hearing him tell the rest of his friends any beanz that ‘you’re aren’t his girl’ and ‘just a friend’ kinda made you think back on the days where you were stuck in the friend zone with him.

Sighing you slouch in your chair turning in your essay. You decided to go to los angles to study for your major. You wanted to get out of your hometown experience new places and people. You met Zion through one of your friends. You’ve never even heard of ‘PRETTYMUCH’ until she showed you a few of their music videos and interviews you started to hone in on them. Next thing you knew your friend bought you guys tickets and meet and greets in los angles.

Zion had his eyes on you on and off the entire time on stage. And boy was he thrilled to see you at meet and greet. And that’s the cliché way you meet Zion and became his “girlfriend” more like “girl-friend” groaning you hop out the bed going to grab a cup of water but your phones text tone vibration on the cherry wood table stops you. Moving towards your phone you see a text from the devil himself. Crazy how the universe works.

[ From: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

Hey mamas you wanna go to a birthday party with me? I promise I’ll stick by you the whole night ❤️

Moral of the story to the last sentence Zion typed was prettymuch had a album release party with a lot of their friends and Zion invited you. But twenty minutes into the party Zion left you and was faded and tipsy.So you ended up taking an uber back home and went to sleep. Zion didn’t get a wink of sleep that night worrying about you.

[ To: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

Hm. Fine I’ll go but you better keep your promise.

[ From: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

I promise babygirl. The party isn’t until late around 8pm so I’ll come pick you up. I love you can’t wait to see your fine ass🥵

Rolling your eyes at his flirty remarks. One thing you can’t knock him for is he always reminds you how beautiful you are. Sitting your phone down you go back to the previous task, grabbing the glass and sticking it on the dispenser filling it half empty half full. Sipping on the ice cold water you make your way back to room deciding how you would kill two hours worth of time.

Waking up an hour and a half later you decided to go ahead and take a shower. While waiting for the water to heat up you grab your phone turning on your Bluetooth speaker to blare music for your invisible fans. First song to come up on shuffle was official girl by Cassie. You place your fingers in the shower feeling the warm water slide down your fingertips. Stripping out of your clothes you jump in the shower.

“You gotta love me in the light and the dark” you sung out loud. As you were singing the lyrics it resonated with your feelings towards Zion.After your quick shower you got dressed and did your hair in a style you loved. Looking at the clock wondering would Zion be on his way yet,It’s 7:30pm and he hasn’t sent a single text or call. Going to your messages you decide to text him.

[ To: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

Zion what time are you coming to pick me up?

Setting your phone back down, you grab your platform boots slipping them on and tying them up. Grabbing your favorite perfume brand lathering your body up in it. fifteen minutes later and you still got nothing from Zion. You launch the Instagram app seeing Zion posted on his Instagram 3 minutes ago a screen of his monitor and fortnite asking for someone to join the lobby.

You roll your eyes wondering why you even texted him in the first place, him and fortnite have a better relationship than you and Zion. You decided to text one of the members.

[ To: Raisin Bran ⛓ ]

Hey Brandon is the party still going on tonight?

[ From: Raisin Bran ⛓ ]

. yeah , we’re actually here where are you and Zion?

[ To: Raisin Bran ⛓ ]

‘Zion’ is on fortnite rn, ill be coming in uber please give me the address🙄

[ From: Raisin Bran ⛓ ]

. I mean you don’t have to come if you don’t want too.

It’s better to have fun, then being cooped up in the house doing nothing, what could go wrong? You though you yourself. Pulling your leather skirt down a little you stand up and place an uber order Your uber arrived twenty minutes later,On the way to the party you have been listening to music with occasionally conversations with the driver. Your phone vibrates, and from the vibrations you know who it is. And you dread wether you should reply or not.but deep down you know you can’t ignore him.

[ From Babie 🤧🧡 ]

Yo Sorry mamas I didn’t see your text.

[ From Babie 🤧🧡 ]

I’m coming to get your fine ass now🥵

[ To: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

No worries Zion lol, I’m catching a ride to the party.

[ From: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

Who’s takin you?

Ignoring his question you decide to screenlock your phone and enjoy the soft ride. The ride was about an extra twenty minutes to get there but it was a pleasant ride nevertheless

Getting out of the car you thank the driver and prepare yourself for the house full of sweaty young adults, blaring loud music and the smell of different strains of weed. Pulling your skirt down a little you walk up to the door ignoring the few whistles and hollers from the drunk guys falling around and laughing on the grass. Knocking on the door you await for anyone to open the door it was starting to get a little chilly outside. “Y/N?” Someone speaks in a puzzled tone. Turning your head around your eyes are met with nick, nodding your head you step off the steps to be engulfed in a hug.

“How are you, what are you doing here by yourself?” Nick questions

“Well I’m not by myself now am I ?” You joke sarcastically, nick shows his cheeky smile while opening the door for you. Upon your sight is a house filled to the rim of people, red solo cups scattered all over the floor, multiple groups of people playing games and kissing.

“Where’s Zion?” Nick asks, while the both of you walk into the kitchen, the constant questions of “Zion” is starting to agitate you more and more. You wanted to have fun and not think about Zion. Because frankly Zion hasn’t been thinking about you. Before you could answer nick’s question soft delicate caramel tattooed arms wrapped around your shoulders with a sweet scent of strawberries and mint leaves.

“I’m here” his voice hones in on your ear lobes, his lips reaching your temple slightly and rapidly before any one could catch eyes on it “hey mamas” Zion’s voice vibrates across your skin.

“Hi” you answer softly not really wanting to talk to him you’d hoped to avoid, nick offers you and Zion a drink grabbing the shot you swallow it down like it was water. Passing the shot glass over to nick for another round.

“Woah mamas slow down okay?” Zion mumbles from behind you with his hands firmly placed on you lower back. Ignoring his comment you drink down another shot earning a “wooo” from nick as he fires you up for your last shot of the day with a slice of lime from the fridge.

“Thank you nick” you smile eating the lime in one hand and firmly grasping the cold water bottle in the other. You turn around to say something to Zion but he’s gone in the back talking to someone. you decide it’s really time to have fun since you’re “single” in the dark. Before you could head over to the dance floor a guy walks up to you with a sheepish grin. His teeth were pearly white and aligned with each other not missing a single space or gap, his skin screamed Melanin “hello how are you?” He asks very politely.

“I’m fine and you?”

“Good if you’re breathing, I was wondering would you like to have a dance? If you don’t mind” he hesitates,not even thinking of an answer you grab his hand reporting to the dance floor. (A/N i thought about the lyric from you by Lloyd ‘And uh, I want all my sexy ladies to report to the dance floor immediately’ lol sorry I may have made you cringe)

you get on the dance floor dancing to the song that’s blaring through the speakers. Taking sips from another shot you grabbed on your way to the dance floor why not? You did say you wanted to have fun. Softly the mysterious man lays his hand on your hips digging his fingertips into your waist. Even though you knew you were with Zion. You wasn’t just going to grind up on some guy even though your devil shoulder told you too.

Zion finishes his conversation with a friend he used to know in Canada, now he was on his way to look for you trying to keep his promise of never leaving tonight. Meeting nick back at the kitchen his thick eyebrows knitted in confusion. Nick not wanting to hear the anger bounce off on him, he decides to point in the direction of you and the mysterious guy. Fuming with vexation, he squeezed the bottle in his hands until his knuckles turned white. Heading over towards the problem he grab you by your arm softly but cautiously. The guy stands back smirking at the sight of a jealous Zion. while you were a bit staggering from the four shots of alcohol you took.

“Hey chill out we were dancing and having a good time!” The guy slurs his words. You started to sober up slightly at the sight of Zion’s muscles in his jawline clenching on and off his knuckles turning ghostly white as he holds in every excuse to lay this guy out with his fists. His face almost beat red.

“Have a good time with someone else not her” Zion excuses the both of you guys away from him and into a quieter location, closing the door behind him Zion let’s out a groan of frustration as his fingers roam through the tangles of his dreads. “What the fuck was that y/n?!” Zion yells but not too aggressive because even though he’s mad at you, you’re still his baby and he’ll never disrespect you.

“What ? I can’t have fun? I mean I’m not your official girl anyways” you slur your truth with hidden sarcasm. You were tipsy and when you’re tipsy the truth comes out. And in the back of your mind you knew once the truth came out things were going to change.

“Y/n what the fuck are you talking about? , of course you are my girl mamas” his tone of voice changes obviously struck by your words, not wanting to look into his eyes with your glassy eyes, you turn your head, not even batting an eye at him, you just couldn’t your heart shattered even thinking of telling him how you felt.

“No I’m not Zion” you choke at your first sentence “I’m your friend, you know the girl who hangs out with you occasionally and comes in your Instagram lives, I’m the girl you say ‘Nah she’s the homie’ I’m not your fucking girl Zion, and it’s been that way for half a goddamn year!” You bark at him, Zion tries to reach for your hands but falls short as you pull them away from his reach “ if you don’t wanna be with me tell me. If you’re embarrassed by me tell me. Fucking give me something I’m tired of being your unofficial girl” you wipe your tears heading straight for the door but Zion blocks it.

“Wait Mamas listen,” his words fall short trying to bite back the tears, his whole world crashing down in front of his eyes “i couldn’t be so fucking proud to have you as my girlfriend, you don’t understand how happy I am to hold you in my arms every fucking day, how proud I am to have you in the studio with me because that’s the only way I can work faster, babygirl you are everything and more I’ve ever needed”

“Zion this secrecy is making me feel like I’m not good enough” your voice cracks filling the room up with icy cold tension. You’re trying so hard to stop crying but you can’t, all the bottled up feelings are just slipping through the cracks. Zion rapidly walks over to you to hold you in his arms. Your brain wants to push him off,but your heart wants to be held until your cries muffled into the music in the background. His slender golden fingers hold the back of your head while the other tightly on your lower back.

“I deserve more Zion, but I don’t wanna pressure you dear, but I’m tired, I’m tired” you speak into his trashed denim jacket. You pull out of his embrace. Walking towards the door, leaving Zion in the room with his thoughts. Passing by nick and Brandon as you wiped your tears, hearing their cries of your names just makes you regret even coming to this party in the first place. The guy you danced with earlier snatches your wrist in a halt just as you were about to grab the door knob, this day just couldn’t get anymore hetic you thought.

“Babygirl.. did he make you cry?” His eyebrows knit up in a bunch, you stumble over the cups placed on the floor snatching your arms at of the young man’s grasp not before you feel an arm around your shoulder engulfing your body into his chest. “Don’t touch her got that? She doesn’t belong to you” he grits his teeth, spitting the poison out on him “oh but she belongs to you?” The guy questions trying to provoke a fight with Zion.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone she’s her own woman, but we are dating and I don’t appreciate anyone treating her less than what she is, so if you want all your bones to be intact and still have teeth to eat with tomorrow I suggest you back the fuck up” your eyes look up at the flushed pinked tint that was painted across his face the slight flinch of his muscles in his jawline.

“Can we leave please?” You plead to him and instantly he grabbed your hand taking you out the party. The ride home was slient. So many things were going on, bottled up emotions were spilled and you just thought to yourself how awkward this would be in the morning. Zion opens the door for you following right after you in the cold house. Taking off your boots you curl up on the bed shaking as the goosebumps multipled on your skin. Zion walks over to you throwing the covers over your body tucking you in like a parent to a kid.

“Can we talk about this?” Zion says breaking the ice, letting out a choked hoarse sigh

“I’m afraid too” you speak barely above a whisper hoping he didn’t catch it.

“Well then listen to me” Zion grabs your legs placing them on his thighs so his fingers hook under your calves “ I’ve never been this deep in love, everytime I get really deep into a relationship something always fucks it up, and I didn’t want anything or anyone to break us up hence why I’ve been hiding us. Specially from the media. It’s a dog eats dog world out there mamas” his fingers tapping on your now timid skin “and I don’t want you to be hurt because of my job, or those whom support and love me, their opinions won’t matter to me I don’t give a shit but I don’t want you hurt babygirl I love your smiles earlier in the morning,” Zion chokes up “ I wanna keep seeing the crinkle in your nose as you curse the sun for being bright, have you re-twisting my dreads, your sudden outbursts of Disney soundtracks”

“I cherish all that shit mamas” Zion finishes like a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulder.

Your eyes begin to soften at how raw Zion is being right now. Zion was never the type to show his cards on the table. Everyone knew this. But seeing him fold like a deck of cards really breaks your heart. “I love our date nights where we just watch movies or play board games, cause it’s just us and no one to interrupt us or tell us how to love each other, but it seems I’ve hurt you more this way instead of the other way I was trying to protect you from. I’m sorry mamas” his Cinderella glass slipper eyes lays upon yours, shattering you into pieces

You never thought how hard it’s been on him to hide all of this or his reasons. You lean over to him placing your head on his chest. Playing with his fingertips. “It’s okay Zion, I understand now, I’m sorry for blowing up on you” his lips pressed on your head while his fingers caressed your waist. Your eyes slowly getting heavier and heavier before you could even hear his response. You dozed off, all the tears and alcohol felt like a melatonin. Zion took this opportunity to sneak a picture of his view to post on Instagram for the world to see. Showing you off was something he always dreamed off and right now seemed like the perfect time. “No mamas I’m sorry, but I’ll show you better than I can say it”

The next morning you woke up to your phone constantly blowing up by notifications, frowning you grab your phone deciding to put it on do not disturb until you see prettymuch fan account names liking and commenting on your posts, taking you on stories, your twitter was blowing up. Opening up Instagram you see Zion has tagged you in a post, smiling at his efforts you like the picture.

130,468 likes

zionkuwonu: I'll never diss you and I'll kiss you on your little pearl.

Maybe the talk needed to happen to move onto bigger things, before you could repost it to your story, The door swings up with Zion smiling bigger than his heart holding a teddy bear in one hand and roses and a self care basket the other. Sitting up against the headboard you accept them feeling the water build up in your eyes. “You’re right mamas, you deserve more” he leans over laying soft pecks against your lips. “And I will always give you more” his lips connect to yours again.

“So face mask night and a movie?” You squeak caressing his jawline

“It’s whatever you want to do babygirl” he mumbles, before taking another picture of you with the gifts.

You were now his official girl.

#prettymuch imagines #prettymuch #zion prettymuch #zion kuwonu #zion kuwonu imagines #zion kuwonu concepts

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming Pt 33

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay - Drugs - Kidnapping  - Manipulation - Abuse - Spiders

Z

Rayne’s home couldn’t be more stereotypical. It was a huge gothic eyesore. I knew that Rayne and Flora were one of the more powerful, and rich, couples in the region. I couldn’t imagine they used most of the space inside. It was a flex. Only by the Society’s influence could a place like this remain hidden.

It took a minute to finish the trip up their driveway and park by their front door. It took a lot to unsettle me. This house was one of the things that did. I knew all about the things that happened here. I was under no illusion about what I was to Rayne. She looked at new members that she saw as having some kind of potential and tried to push them. I was vaguely aware of some of the other people she attempted to take under her wing.

Mercy, an ironic name if I had ever heard one. I had seen her work, she worked mostly as a private breaker that just pushed her victims little by little until they broke. I had seen some videos, the childish glee she had as she told her victims they could “take just a little more” over and over. A few more inches. A few more hits. One more notch up on the shock collar. Of course if they could take that Mercy was sure they could take one more. She was to take the phrase “it’s too big” as a challenge. She wanted her victim to say something wasn’t possible.

Melinoë was one of the few people who climbed the ranks from the bottom. She broke people using their phobias. She kept rooms of snakes, spiders, rats and other common phobias and introduced them to people she had rendered immobile. I had seen one of her victims covered head to toe in webs from a swarm of spiders she let into the cell. The light in their eyes had died quickly. Unfortunately not everyone's phobias are so easy to manifest. She was more than happy to keep people in cycles of suffocation or waterboard those that had those fears. She had a technique for almost everything.

Her newest was some newly inducted girl. Apparently she was some serial killer that had killed dozens of low ranked members over the last year. Rayne’s intervention probably saved her a long torturous life at the bottom of one of the Society’s special prisons. I remember Eos making a fuss that the girl had left Rayne’s mansion gone underground a few weeks ago and no one had tracked her down yet. Eos had been on the council deciding the girls fate and had been very vocal about having her imprisoned for life.

I hated them all, none of them had the respect that I had for the people I worked on. I avoided being on that list of people taken under Rayne’s wing by virtue of Eos interacting with me as often as she did. She still left her mark on me though, something I was unable to get rid of, her epithet.

I composed myself as the doors to the limo opened. The driver bowed and helped the both of us out of the car. Once she shut the doors behind us the went up to the front door and rang the doorbell. She waited to the side, her head bowed lest she incur Rayne’s wrath when the door opened.

Rayne

Everything was going… well perfect was a lie. Things never went perfectly. But with a minimum amount of punishments. I only had three other maids taken away while I waited for Z’s arrival. They’d make passable canvases.

I was growing irritated as the minutes slowly passed by. She was supposed to be here at four. It was now ten after four. Good driver’s were hard to come by, but I’d have to find a new one regardless. Perhaps she would make a good lawn ornament. If she wanted to go slow on the roads she may as well be stationary. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about winter for quite awhile.

Finally the doorbell rang, followed by some scattered screams throughout the mansion. The doorbell was wired to some random slaves. It gave them quite the nasty shock when it was pressed, it made sure we would always hear it ring. Our guests were here. Only fifteen minutes late. The two slaves I had left stationed by the front door saw me walk towards them and slowly opened the door.

The sight was… as to be expected. Z was dressed in what I was sure was the most expensive thing she owned. I was a bit upset to see Briar there. I hadn’t given Z a plus one. I’d have to figure out something for her to do, she was just going to make all my plans harder. I wanted Z, alone, without anyone to consult. Having Briar to talk to just made my goal harder.

"Good afternoon Z. I'm glad you could make it to this celebration." I gave her a smile. I tried to play the good host.

"Unfortunately, due to the last minute invitation, I was unable to bring Lady Flora a gift." She looked bored and it pissed me off. Its like she didn't care she didn't bring my darling Flora anything.

"That's alright Z, you're the gift. I'm sure Flora will enjoy meeting you. Follow me." We made our way through the mansion, heading towards the art room I knew my lovely lilac was busy in.

Maids stop and curtsied as we passed by. Flora and I would really have to converge on a design for them. She was in the midst of designing new outfits for them and had them wearing different prototypes. Some were clad in latex, others were dressed in what could only be generously called an outfit. Still others were in floor length outfits that only left their hands and faces uncovered. Different styles from English to French to Japanese. I didn't care much about which style she ultimately chose, I just wanted them to match.

We passed by many of Flora's projects on out walk. All stunningly beautiful. All works of genius. Yet Z looked bored and Briar looked away.

It pissed me off.

I stopped at the top of a staircase in front of a special wall Flora had installed. The renovations had cost a fortune but nothing was too expensive for my beloved buttercup.

"Perhaps you recognize this one, Z?"

Z

The walk through the mansion was what I expected. Battered maids, tortured slaves, and all kinds of horrible art created by Flora.

I looked up at the newest exhibit. It was a resin block that was placed into the wall. There was a woman inside, immobile. Naked and on display. It took a bit for me to see the tubes connected to her inside. Most likely to give her air, water and Ambrosia to keep her alive. She stared out blankly at the room, I doubt she was mentally there anymore.

"I'm afraid I don't." I didn't really care about whatever Rayne was trying to show me. I respected the situation in a certain way. I'm sure the inability to move with no space to take anything more than shallow breaths would break anyone fairly quickly.

It was the same principle I took with Bridget.

"Flora was devastated when you closed up shop. She bought up many of those you broke for her own projects. They're quite magnificent for many purposes. Sometimes its fun to listen to them scream while you work, but you created slaves that simply don't react anymore." She smiled at me as she talked. I hated every word coming out of her mouth. I did this to stop their suffering, not make it worse.

"And the significance of this piece?" I tried pushing the annoyance out of my voice.

"This was the last person you broke. She was sold as a sex slave and was used like that for awhile. But Flora wanted to preserve your last piece. It's been injected with a concoction that should help preserve its beauty. The side effects are quite painful and debilitating, but its encased in resin so it doesn't matter if its debilitating. We believe she'll live another decade in the-"

"I believe you wanted us to meet with Lady Flora?" Briar cut Rayne off. I wasn't sure if it was for my benefit or hers, but I'm glad she did.

Rayne’s fave slipped for just a moment. From a warm and welcoming one to one of sheer annoyance. It only took a moment for her to slip back though. "Yes, we're almost there." She turned and began walking down the hall. I had long lost track of where we were. The house seemed alive with activity no matter where we went. Slaves where everywhere, I couldn't begin to fathom how many she must have.

Rayne opened a door and we could hear someone inside talking. She motioned for us to wait as she slipped inside.

Rayne

"If I heard one more sob out of you I'll give you something to actually be sad about." I heard my gorgeous gardenia tell her canvas as she worked.

Flora's back was to me so I could see her canvas facing me. It was some small thing. It had short black hair, surprising as Flora preferred to claim slaves with long hair.

The canvas was covered in tattoos, new ones. Surprising designs. Flora loved to cover a few maids in tattoos, having some walking art around the mansions. Usually she didn't design tattoos so demonic though.

"What are you working on?" I asked her, giving her a bit of a start as I broke her concentration.

"Oh, raindrop. How many times do I have to tell you not to startle me when I'm working on a piece! I could have gotten a line out of place." She chided me playfully. If she had messed up she'd probably just dispose of it and get a new canvas, it was no big deal.

"My apologies, my sweet… saguaro." I stumbled, my mind was in other places.

She crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks, looking a bit cross. "A cactus?"

I walked over to her and tip her head up, giving her a kiss. "I apologize, I was taken in by your art."

She smiled, her pout already forgotten. "This canvas was some poor church girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I bought her with the intent of reselling her to The Pandemonium Club."

"Don't they give full body recoloring to all their imps? Won't that cover up your lovely art?" Servers at the club were modified to resemble imps. Horn mods were what their servers were known for. The size of their horns indicated their purpose. But they also underwent full body recoloring. Many were purple, blue, red or pink.

"Not at all. That guttersnipe that you brought in gave me one nice thing, a chemical added to this ink will make it glow under the body repainting. So she'll be purple with nice gold tattoos showing." She gave me a toothy grin.

I gave her another kiss. Longer. More passion. "You know I don't like you talking about her like that, she'll be giving us tons of fun to watch. But I'm glad she's helped you."

"Whatever you say. So, may I ask why you've come in? Just wanted to see my art?" Flora was beginning to catch on.

"Your birthday present finally arrived, Love." I smiled, knowing this would make her day.

"Oh?" She feigned an innocent look. "I had completely forgot. What did you get me?"

"I didn't find you a something to give you this year unfortunately." Her look turned sour and she stuck out her bottom lip. "But, I brought in someone you might enjoy meeting."

Nothing happened for a few seconds. I figured that had been an obvious enough of a clue.

"I brought in someone you might enjoy meeting!" I called a bit louder. This time Z and Briar entered the room.

"Z!" Her face lit up and she practically glided over the floor to her. She ignored Briar much as I had. "Its so lovely to have you visit. I am such a fan of your methods. Perhaps we can talk over dinner." I watched her look Z up and down. "And let's get you some nice clothes. Consider it my treat."

Z didn't get a moment to say anything before Flora pulled her out of the room. My present had gone over well so far. If things went my way I'd get rid of Z and make this the best birthday Flora's ever had.

[kindofcashton]

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕  •  chapter 8  (Calum Hood AU)

I WAS DEAD on my feet at work the next morning.  A terrible night’s sleep combined with a headache like a hammer on my temple made for one awful wake up call.  I suppose the headache was the universe’s way of punishing me for blowing up at Jeremy.  After reflecting on our argument, I decided that although my points were valid I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up.  We were both in the wrong, and yelling never solved anything.

Hannah could tell something was wrong with me by the way I fumbled on my way out the door.  She had stood in front of it with eyebrows raised, silently demanding an explanation before I left.

Taking a deep breath, I’d only said, “Later” before breezing out the door to catch the bus.  I hoped she wasn’t mad at how distant I’d been; I didn’t need another person angry at me.

Roger also wanted to know how things with Jeremy went, but from the look on my face he found his answer.  I moved robotically for the first few hours of my shift, almost liking the automatic way I made the drinks and served them.  I liked the lack of emotion involved, because lately all emotions just made my life more complicated.

Unfortunately, my break from emotions didn’t last very long.  When my shift was nearing it’s end and I was busy wiping down the counter, a familiar figure stepped up to cast a shadow over me.

“Hi, Scarlett.”

Jeremy wore a tight expression, clearly smiling out of force.  His hands were in his pockets like he always did when he was uneasy, and I straightened up.  I couldn’t say I was surprised; Jeremy seemed like the kind of guy to make gestures like this.  I just didn’t know if I liked it or not.

“Can we talk?” he asked under his breath, glancing over at Roger who was nosily eavesdropping while he pretended to clean the espresso machine that I’d just cleaned a half hour ago.

I merely nodded.  “My shift ends in fifteen minutes.”  I turned around so I didn’t have to look at him.  Seeing Jeremy made me sad.  Not a sad in the I-miss-you sort of way, more like a grieving sadness.  It just felt over, and I was sorry to see such a promising relationship go up in flames so quickly.  

After hanging up my apron and fending off Roger’s endless questions with a vow to text him later, I joined Jeremy and walked outside.  It was a beautiful day, but I couldn’t enjoy the sunlight when everything was gloomy inside of me.

Licking my lips, I decided I was the one who should go first.  “I’m sorry, Jer.  I said some things I didn’t mean last night, things you didn’t deserve.  I’m sorry.”  I hoped I sounded sincere; I genuinely was sorry for blowing up.

He broke into a grin, which surprised me.  Then he pulled me into a tight hug, and I was so shocked my arms remained limp at my sides.

“I’m so sorry too, Scarlett.  I didn’t mean anything I said.”  He pulled back, but the grin on his face remained.  “I knew we’d just apologize and move on.”

His optimism made me sick to my stomach.  He actually thought a simple I’m sorry would suffice for the things we said to each other?  I pulled my hand out of his, taking a step back to distance us.

“Jeremy, I said I regret some of the things I said.  But a lot of things were true, and are still true despite an apology.”  I would always like Jeremy, because he was too damn charming to resist.  In terms of liking him more than that, however, I knew I couldn’t anymore.  Not after gaining a new perspective and realizing how utterly incompatible we were.

Jeremy scowled, looking confused.  “What do you mean?  How am I supposed to fix this if an apology won’t work?”

I sighed, rubbing my forehead as the headache returned.  “You can’t fix it, Jer.  And trust me, I hate not being able to fix things even more than you.  But...this, us...is over.”  Saying the words reopened the pit of sadness inside of me, and loneliness swept over me like a tidal wave.

Inhaling sharply and squaring his shoulders, Jeremy nodded once.  “Alright, fine.”  I could tell he was trying to act tough, and his hazel eyes were steely.  “See you later, Scarlett.”  He turned on his heel and stalked off, and I watched him disappear all the way down the street before walking away myself.

On the bus ride home I texted Roger a long paragraph explaining what had happened, and his supportive responses cheered me up a little bit.  The person I really wanted to talk to was Hannah, because she always knew what to say in situations like this.

She was curled up on the couch when I got home, flipping through the channels as she snacked on some popcorn.  Upon seeing me she muted the TV and patted the spot next to her.

“Alright, now you have to tell me what’s up.  Why were you arguing with Jeremy last night?”

Briefly I wondered how she knew.  I thought only Calum had overheard us.  Of course he told her, I thought with a sigh.  He could never mind his own business if his life depended on it.

Stealing some popcorn to stall time so I could come up with an explanation, I shrugged.  “It just wasn’t working out.  Our lives weren’t heading in the same direction, and I felt like I had to end it.”

She looked stunned.  “Wait, you ended it for real?  I thought this was just a fight!  That you’d want advice on how to make it up to him or what to say!  But you broke up?”

I frowned, irritated slightly that she thought I would’ve wanted to make it up to him.  “Hannah, I realized the guy was a self-centered flake, so I dumped him.  Why would I want to be with someone like that?”

“No, you’re right,” she insisted.  “I just thought he seemed so nice when we met him.  I didn’t catch any red flags.”  Hannah was just as charmed by him as I was, which made sense.  

“He was nice,” I said, and I remembered when Calum made fun of me for saying this about him.  “But he was also...inconsiderate, and kind of a douche when it came to certain things.  I don’t even have time for a relationship, really, not with school and the cafe.”  I wished this wasn’t true; I liked having companionship, someone to rely on who relied on me.  But the emotional weight was too much to bear on top of everything else, and I hadn’t even told Jeremy the truth about most of my life.  What kind of relationship did we have if I was lying to him?

Hannah chewed at her lip, and I knew she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.  Sighing, I said, “Alright, spill it.  What’s on your mind?”

She adjusted her position to face me head on, grabbing my hands.  “Okay, look, don’t take this the wrong way, but...you dropped out, Scar.  You’re not in school anymore, so why spend so much time studying?  What are you trying to achieve?”

I bit my lip, embarrassed at how it sounded when she said it out loud.  “I know it’s crazy, and a little obsessive, and a little pointless...but I have to go back.  Somehow I need to finish my degree, and start doing what I love.  I don’t want to float through life with no plans and no future.”  That was what Jeremy was doing, and I wanted the exact opposite.

Hannah gave me an understanding smile.  “Of course you should go back to school when you can.  But I’m talking about right now.  You’ve been to hell and back this year, Scarlett.  And not once did you take a break to focus on yourself.”

Her words were like a slap in the face.  I had been going and going ever since my parents died, refusing to slow down in case I slipped up.  But it didn’t matter; I worked harder than ever and still had to drop out.  And now I was nearly killing myself doing work that didn’t matter, and why?  Maybe to prove something to myself, or my dead parents, or the school that kicked me out.  Or maybe I was doing it because if I stopped, I’d have to think about them.  I’d have to come to terms with the fact that my parents were dead, and I was alone.

Looking into Hannah’s earnest eyes, I knew it wasn’t time to stop yet.  I would just reroute my priorities a little, give myself a night off once in a while.  “Alright,” I conceded.  “I did just break up with a guy, so I could use some cheering up.  Any ideas?”

Hannah grinned devilishly, a million ideas already shining in her eyes.  “I say we go out tonight, just the two of us.  There’s nothing a little fruity alcohol and drunk dancing can’t fix.”

I couldn’t help the smile that came to my lips, and I gave Hannah a tight hug.

“What’s with the love fest?” Michael’s voice sounded, and I leaned back to see him and Calum fall onto the couches across from us.  Calum’s expression was as sour as ever, full lips set into a deep frown.

“Scarlett is a freshly single woman, so we need to hit the town.  No boys allowed.”  Michael stuck his tongue out at Hannah, who giggled.

“Single, huh?” Calum said, eyes narrowed slightly.  I lifted my chin, trying to appear confident.

“Yep.  Broke up with Jeremy this morning.”

Michael whistled.  “Hell yeah, leave him in the dust.  You need a guy who’d move mountains for you.”  I smiled at him, grateful for the support.  Michael was such a sweet guy, he was almost as good at cheering me up as Hannah.

Someone who didn’t look very cheerful was Calum.  I thought the news of my breakup would thrill him, and give him a chance to get some final digs on Jeremy.  But he was oddly silent, as if processing the information.  It was one of the first times he couldn’t look at me, and I almost missed feeling warm under his gaze.

Hannah and I went out shopping for the rest of the afternoon, another part of her plan to cheer me up.  The day was too beautiful not to ignore, and I felt like the weather was celebrating my freedom as well.  I was beginning to love the city, and all of it’s quaint little secrets.  I started to recognize people, make acquaintances where before I felt so stranded.  It still didn’t feel like my city, but it was a lot better than it was before.  

We ransacked shop after shop, convinced we had to find the perfect outfit for tonight.  I must have tried on a hundred dresses, some downright awful.  But laughing about the ugly ones with Hannah was releasing some of the anxiety that had been trapped in my heart for so long, and I actually felt like I could breathe.  We ended up buying two cheap, skimpy dresses to wear tonight and sauntered home, bubbling with joy as we burst through the front door.

A heated card game was ensuing at the kitchen table between the guys, who barely noticed us when we came in.  They noticed when we came back down, though; these dresses were shorter than most that Hannah and I wore, with slinky fabric and thin straps.  Paired with chunky heels, we looked incredible.  What’s better is we knew we looked incredible.

Ashton’s jaw hit the floor when we floated into the kitchen to say goodbye before we left.

“Absolutely not,” he protested when Hannah gave him a peck on the cheek.  “How am I supposed to let you leave when you look like that?”  I smiled at how flustered he was around his girlfriend, and Hannah looked thrilled.

“Sorry, baby.  Girls only.”  She didn’t sound sorry at all, and her cherry red lips smirked at her boyfriend.

He wouldn’t let her hand go, and she leaned over to give his neck a kiss.  Ashton groaned.  “Please can I come?  I’ll be good, I promise.”  She giggled against his skin and pulled her arm away.

“No, Ash,” she whined at him.  “This is a girl’s night.  Besides, I’ll be busy all night trying to find Scarlett a worthy replacement for the dick she dropped today.”

“Already?” Luke asked, and I shot him an innocent wink.

“Who says I can’t have some fun?  I am single, after all.”  I was looking at Luke but hurling my words at Calum.  Anything to make him speak, because his eerie silence was unnerving me.  But he just shifted in his seat, taking a swig of beer and not even looking up at me.  I missed his harsh comments; at least then he was paying attention.  This stony silence was somehow even worse.

Hannah’s phone buzzed, and she linked her arm in mine before giving a mock salute to the guys.  “Our uber’s here, so that’s our cue to go.  Have fun with your little card game!”  Hannah cackled down the driveway, and I was out of breath from laughing as we climbed into the car.

“Ashton is gonna kill you,” I told her.

She looked smug.  “Oh, no he won’t.  He’ll do something much, much worse to me later.”  I hit her arm and we fell on top of each other laughing, causing the driver to give us a puzzled look in the rear view mirror.

I was already tipsy from happiness before we even got to the club.  It was packed, just like any other night, and I relished the way we disappeared into the crowd.  Tonight I could be someone, anyone else.  I didn’t have to be Scarlett, the girl with dead parents and more emotional baggage than an airport.  I could be daring, sexy, a risk-taker.  I could go home with one guy, ten guys, or no guys.  The night was up to me, and the control made my heart swell with delight.

Hannah and I ordered round after round of fruity margaritas, until we were so drunk we couldn’t contain our sudden bursts of laughter.  Everything was funny, from the bartender’s goatee to some girl’s polka dress.  At one point we were so wasted we could barely stand up to dance, and had to hold on to each other as we swayed unsteadily on the dance floor. 

When we’d collapsed at a table by the wall, another round of drinks in our hands, I took a long sip until half the glass was gone.  I loved the way being drunk made me so happy and giggly; I had absolutely no worries on my mind.  But I was still curious, and as I chewed on some ice I asked Hannah, “What is it like having Ashton?”  The question was worded poorly due to my intoxication, but drunk Hannah spoke drunk Scarlett’s language well.

She thought about it for a minute, or was just trying to remember how to form words.  “He’s like...my soulmate, dude.”

I let out a pssh of disbelief, and knocked back the rest of my drink.  “I thought soulmates were bullshit.”

She shook her head insistently and grabbed my hand.  “I did t-too,” she slurred.  “But I swear to God, he gets me.  Like, more than I get myself, you know?  Which can be an-annoying.”  She blinked slowly, orienting herself.  “I hate when he knows I’m bullshitting him, ‘cause that means I can’t bullshit him.” 

“So you think you’re like, meant for each other?” I yelled over the loud music.

Hannah sighed, sloshing her drink slightly.  “Even if we don’t stay together, he’ll always be my soulmate.  I could marry some other random guy, and Ash would still be my soulmate.”  She slapped the table for effect.

As my brain attempted to make sense of her jumbled words, I noticed a pair of eyes on me from across the club.  They belonged to a dirty blonde guy with a slight smile, who wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was watching me.  When he saw me look over, his eyebrows raised, insinuating that I go over and join him.

Raising my empty glass to Hannah, I stood up from the table.  “Well, I’m gonna have that guy over there buy me another drink.  Maybe he’s been my soulmate after all!”

Hannah slapped my bum as I stumbled past.  “Go get ‘em, tiger!” she called after me, and I pumped my fist.  Crossing the floor in my heels was no easy feat, and I nearly tripped into people a few times.  As I moved through the crowd, I lost sight of the guy I was trying to find, and my vision was swimming as faces began blending in with one another.  I ended up by a corner of the club, and leaned against the wall for support.  Suddenly standing straight up was difficult, and I felt my body tilting towards the ground until someone grabbed on to me.

“Almost lost you there for a second,” came an oily voice.  Through my fuzzy vision I made out dirty blonde hair hanging in front of glinting gray-blue eyes.  Lips parting as I tried to form words, I gasped as I felt his stubble scratching against my cheek as he kissed me.  He tasted like bourbon and smelled like sweat, and his hands were too big and too rough as they prodded my body.  I felt my dress riding up and the straps sliding off my shoulders.  It wasn’t necessarily an enjoyable sensation, but kissing this guy was getting my mind off everything else, and that’s what I wanted, right?

I groaned slightly when he squeezed my thigh particularly hard, which he took as a positive sign and moved his hands even higher.  His tongue was berating my own, and I was nearly choking as I ran out of air.  Thankfully his mouth moved its assault to my neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin there.  I took big gulps of oxygen, trying to stop the room from spinning while my body fizzled with electricity.  I let out an unrestrained giggle as the alcohol still messed with my mind, my body reacting one way but my brain reacting the opposite.  I knew what this guy was doing was wrong, but when I was drunk everything had a funny, rosy glow that made me giggle. 

The guy was moaning as he kissed down to my collarbone, and I felt his hard arousal against my leg.  This managed to send off a loud enough warning bell to break through the drunken clouds in my brain.  I was not about to have sex with some random guy in the middle of a crowded club, no matter how ecstatic I felt inside.  My hands tried pushing him off, but he was stronger.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” he grumbled against my skin, gripping me tighter.  I winced at how rough he was being, and panted shakily.

“Nothing, just--wouldn’t this be better in private?”  My smile was breathless, and he must have misinterpreted my giddiness to be suggestive.

“You’re a fun one, eh?” he asked, and I reattached my lips to his.  If I kept him busy up here enough maybe he’d forget his plan to get in my pants, or dress so to speak.

And then a voice broke through the haze surrounding us, causing me to rip my lips away.

“Fun?  That’s a new one for you Scarlett.”

I didn’t know if I was so drunk I’d started hallucinating, or if Calum Hood was actually standing in front of me.  His arms were folded nonchalantly, expression plain as he took in the sight before him.

Struggling to stay upright, I used the guy’s shoulder for support.  “C-Calum?” I stuttered, hiccuping.  I couldn’t keep his frame in focus as I went in and out of consciousness.  I was so drunk I was on the verge of passing out, something I’d never done before.

“I think it’s time you dismount from this skeeve,” he suggested, making me scowl.  Who was he to say what I could and could not do?  I was having fun with a stranger who wanted to kiss me, and I wasn’t about to let him stop me.

“Oh, piss off,” I slurred, sloppily dragging my lips along the guy’s jaw.  Briefly I found it funny that I didn’t even know his name, and another giggle fell from my mouth.  The sound caused Calum’s brows to furrow.

“Are you sure you want to be doing that?” he warned, stepping a little closer.

The guy glared his way, grabbing my hair as if to show his possession.  “I think she told you to piss off, jackass.  Besides, she’s my piece not yours.”

A small smirk drifted across Calum’s lips.  “Right.”  I thought that was the end of it, and that he’d turn around and leave.  I was sorely mistaken as, in a flash of movement, Calum ripped the guy away from me, causing me to stumble against the wall and fall to the floor.

“What the fuck?” the guy shouted, raising his fist to swing.  But Calum got to him first, and grabbed him by the shirt collar.  Fear filled the eyes of the stranger, as Calum’s dominating frame cast a shadow over him.

“You’re the one who needs to piss off, now,” he said through clenched teeth, his tone deadly.  The guy glanced at me for a second, as if weighing whether or not I was worth the trouble.  Apparently I wasn’t, because he took off a second later.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back against the wall, liking the feeling of being on the floor as I was hit with a wave of exhaustion.  I felt someone kneel before me, but kept my eyes shut as I chuckled softly.

He sighed.  “Jesus, you’re really wasted, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, splaying my hands out and grinning.  “Who really knows?”  Finally opening my eyes, I poked a finger at his chest.  “Why’d you have to ruin things?  I was having fun.”

Calum scoffed.  “Oh yeah, getting taken advantage of is super exciting.  Didn’t you realize he was about to have sex with you in the middle of a club?”

My lips fell into a pout.  “We’re not in the middle, more like off to the side.”  He sighed again.  “Anyway, I don’t need you to swoop in and save me.  I can handle myself.”

“Sure you can,” he mocked.  “You look really strong sitting on this dirty floor.”

I frowned, struggling to get up on my own as I attempted to prove him wrong.  He reached out to steady me, but I pushed his hand away. “Stop helping me,” I grumbled, finally making it to my feet.  He watched me closely the whole time, making me scowl.  “Stop looking at me, too.”  Calum shook his head in disbelief, hands on his hips in impatience.  

“I’m trying to help you, here.”

“Well stop helping me,” I cried, tripping slightly into his chest.  His hands steadied my arms, fingers warm against my buzzing skin.  “Just leave me alone.  All you do is make me upset.”

He looked a little surprised, but kept most of his composure as he looked into my eyes.  We were close, with my fists balled against his chest and his face mere inches away.  My eyes flitted to his lips, and then I tried to wrestle away.

“I told you to stop looking at me,” I whined.  Finally he conceded and let me go, but still seemed poised to catch me if I fell again.  I pulled the hem of my dress down and adjusted the straps, trying to appear put together in my disarrayed state.

But then defeat overwhelmed me, making my shoulders sink.  “Where’s Hannah?  I just wanna go home.” 

“She’s with Ashton.  That’s actually why I’m here; he was going crazy back at the house and dragged me here with him so he could be with her.”

For some reason this made my chest pinch.  “So you didn’t come here for me?” I asked, my question nearly drowned out by the music.  But Calum heard it loud and clear.

He hesitated before answering.  “No, I didn’t come here for you.”

My heart sank, and I couldn’t handle the excruciating heat of being so close to him.  I pushed past him to head for the door, but he was hot on my trail in case I needed help.  The cold air was a welcome relief as I ripped my heels off and carried them in my hand.

“We can wait in the car, I’ll text Ashton.”  I hardly heard him as I fell into the backseat.  He sighed before shutting the door and getting into the driver’s seat.

Sitting up just enough so I could see his face eyes in the rear view mirror, I slurred, “I’m not gonna say thanks.”

He met my gaze in the reflection, and I almost drowned in his brown eyes.  “That’s okay.”  His voice was soft, and the sound lulled me into a sleepy haze.  I wanted to say something else, but exhaustion took over my body and the words never came out.  Within a minute, sleep pulled me under.

#5sos #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #5sos smut #calum 5sos #calumhood #calum hood imagine #calum hood smut #calm #calum hood fanfiction #ashton irwin #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin smut #masterlist #luke hemmings #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings smut #michael clifford #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford fanfiction #michael clifford smut #youngblood #sounds good feels good

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

Aaaaaand, I'm back! I know it's been bloody ages since the last update but I needed a break. I also had been busy with other ficlets so OIWAE was put on pause. But the story is back and I do hope you like this instalment. I really, really like this chapter.

I am absolutely horrible at answering the comments (which I'll fix, promise) but I do see each one of them! I LOVE reading what your thoughts are, whether you liked some moment or a particular turn of phrase, I appreciate it all. No matter if it's one word, emoji, or a big analysing comment. Thank you lovies for staying here with me. <3

Anne, you’re my gem  💜 @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur​

Read on AO3

     Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

Chapter V: Lovestruck. Part II

Chapter VI: Flecks of Sun

Chapter VII: Mince pies & baubles

                                           Chapter VIII: Home

Blood pounded in Claire’s ears muffling the music and the howling wind outside. Jamie’s face blurred as the tears gathered at the brink of her lower lashes. She inhaled deeply, blinking furiously to get rid of the swell of moisture in her eyes. Closing them Claire could feel Jamie moving towards her, gently touching her arm, voice concerned.

“Claire, was it too early? Did I-”

He could not finish his sentence because she dissolved into ugly crying. Clinging to him, gasping for air and in general being an awful mess.

“Shh, mo graidh. Shh. Tis alright.” His hands wrapped around Claire in a familiar way, thumb circling the tender skin at her nape softly.

“I.. I’m going to ruin your shirt.” Sniffing, voice muffled by his aforementioned shirt Claire leaned back to look at the mess she created. Her running nose and damp cheeks imprinted a mascara-black wet blot on green fabric. She could hear Jamie chuckle as he picked her up and sat down with Claire curled on his lap.

“I dinna care one bit about the shirt, lass.” Lips gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. Claire sighed though still gasping for air. The comfort of Jamie’s warmth made her body become limp.

“I’m not crying because I am sad,” Claire whispered, hand cupping the back of his head. “I... I’m crying because I’m happy, Jamie. Happy to live with you.”

Dropping a kiss on the bridge of her nose, he smiled.

“Aye. Me too, my Sassenach.”

* * *

It was the beginning of what seemed like an endless hunt for what would become a perfect flat for us. We spent about three weeks chasing an ideal place, checked at least ten flats scattered all over Edinburgh but none of them was quite what we were looking for (not far away from my work; with a park nearby to allow Jamie to go on his morning jogs. And it needed to have a large living room and be pet-friendly.)

Jamie (bare-chested, skin still flushed from the shower) was performing his magic by preparing the scrambled eggs I loved so much while I sat on the windowsill, feet in fuzzy socks propped up the wall. As I scrolled through rental ads on Jamie’s iPad I felt the pressure of upcoming headache from all this searching. And suddenly, there it was. The place that we were looking for.

A stone-built ground floor house had a spacious kitchen and a huge living room adorned with an old fireplace. The ceilings were so high I thought there is no end to them. “Canna wait to hear yer voice inside these walls” Jamie smirked at me as we followed behind the agent chirping away about how great this flat is. “Whatever do you mean?” I quirked my brow at him. He leaned closer, whispering into my ear, his warm breath tickling the little hairs on my nape. “Weel, those sounds ye make when I-” Giggling, my elbow pressed into his ribs, stopping him before any dangerous and inappropriate (for the agent) revelations could occur.

Grand windows allowed the sun to slip into every little corner of the flat and made it breathe with light. There were two bedrooms with hardboard wooden floors and a small study fully equipped with bookshelves. French doors in the kitchen opened to a garden with a southern exposure was the last deciding straw for me. It had everything we needed. Adso would be welcome to live here, it was a fifteen minute drive from my work and there was a park just across the street. Although it was rather pricey, Jamie ignored my hissing remark “Almost four grand quid? Fucking insane,” and said that we should sign the rental agreement. I kissed him senseless allowing the feeling that this is us now, our own place fill me up.

The rental price had changed our plans a little bit. Forcing us to spend a couple of days moving small furniture and other possessions Jamie and I owned to our new accommodation by ourselves. At the end of it all, sweaty and tired, we sat on the boxes in the empty living room, watching the snowfall outside the huge windows.

“Are ye happy, Sassenach?” Jamie gently pulled me by the wrist to his side. My hands cradled his face as I stood up and found myself a prisoner between his thighs.

“Of course I am, James Fraser,” thumb caressing the apple of his cheeks I glanced around. “Only I have no idea how we are going to organize this mess.” It feels like between the two of us there are millions of boxes and bags, packages. I’ve brought the plants I owned (the only three I managed not to kill), a box full of uncle’s Lamb belongings, an enormous contemporary art painting Geillis got me for my 30th birthday two years ago. Adso had his belongings too, a scratching post, litter tray and his own little blanket. Adso himself was being babysat by Geillis while I and Jamie tried to sort out our moving. Jamie was currently sitting on a stash of my medical books destined for the study.

“We’ll manage, a nighean ” His hands patted my hips, bringing me closer. Planting a soft kiss on the washed fabric over my sternum, Jamie looked up. “We canna do more than our best.”

My stomach had the quite opposite opinion of doing our best and rumbled loudly.

“God, I’m starving” yawning I reached for the cellphone.

Later, full and warm with chicken ramen, curry with prawns and wok-fried greens we had just enough strength in us to unpack most of the carton boxes that said “Kitchen”. In that hour and a half, we managed to laugh, listen to Jamie’s Dire Straits playlist on his phone and argue over ridiculous things. Putting away a bitty family of my mugs and cups Jamie dropped my favourite mug Frank bought me a very long time ago and I never could get rid of it. It was massive and bright yellow, with Friends on it. It was my all-time binge-love TV show. It shattered in yellow pieces atop the counter and floor. I didn't mean to snap. But we both were bone-weary from a long day of moving back and forth, of a week packing before, exhausted from all the searching catching up with us. Suddenly I felt my chin quiver at the sight of my beloved, now broken mug.

“I’m sorry, Sassenach.” Jamie bit his lip, trying to reach me with his hand over the island counter but I shrugged away.

“Why are you so bloody clumsy, ” I mumbled, kneeling to pick up broken ceramic bits. Jamie rubbed his face, clearly wanting to say something, but instead he bent to help.

Annoyed just by him breathing next to me at that moment I dropped collected pieces straight into the bin. When he tried to sweep the floor from the dusty mug remains I snapped.

“Oh, please, just move away, or you’re going to break something else.”

I regretted the words right after I’ve said them but blood was already pounding in my ears and there was no way back.

“I said I’m sorry,” Jamie muttered, looking visibly irritated himself now. “It’s just a mug, I’ll buy ye a new one.”

The tension crackled with its force.

“I don’t want another bloody mug! ” I barked at him trying to busy myself opening a new box. “Frank gave it to me. It was my favourite one.”

Time seemed to stop for a second as Jamie slowly licked his lips looking me straight in the eyes.

“Frank?”

Unable to hold his gaze anymore I turned my back to him staring out of the window.

“Don’t you start playing a jealous boyfriend on me,” I grunted, telling myself to calm down. You know he doesn’t mean it bad.

He grumbled and I could hear him retreating to the living room.

“Why are ye bitching about it, Claire?” He hissed and I thought I could feel his words crawl inside me like a poisonous snake.

“What?” I followed him to the room (aka the mess) full of boxes.

“Nothing.”

“Repeat what you just said,” I demanded.

He didn’t. Instead, we spent the next hour in different rooms unpacking. Or pretending to. I wasn't able to do a proper job and stopped on one box. As the sweat cooled off on my skin and the urge to cry faded away I plodded down the hallway towards the bathroom. Passing the living room I caught a glimpse of Jamie placing my candles (that he hated) on top of the fireplace. The sight gave my heart a painful (and guilty) squeeze. Deciding that taking a shower, putting fresh PJs on and making us both a nice cup of tea would make both of us feel better.

I turned on the hot water. It was blissful and caused me to go limp. Engrossed as I was I did not hear Jamie come in. Shedding his clothes wordlessly, he stepped into the shower behind me. Cupping one breast, he dropped a kiss on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry I snapped, Claire. And I’m sorry for ye wee mug.”

Turning to face him, I nodded and kissed his jaw softly.

“I am sorry, Jamie. I was unreasonable and acted like a jerk.”

Our earlier argument was mended when his lips sealed on my neck, leaving me breathless. Moments later I cried out as I sagged against the tiled wall, him still inside me.

We slept on a makeshift bed that Jamie constructed from his mattress and two blankets just right in front of the fireplace. We laid, limbs entwined, among the boxes and bags, hands lazily tracing hills and valleys of each other bodies. “I love you,” I whispered before my mind drifted away into the realm of Morpheus.

* * *

Weeks later our flat finally started looking like somebody really lives here. With all our mismatched furniture, collection of books (mine mainly botany and poems, and Jamie’s classics and fantasy), with a horrid motorbike engine of Jamie’s (the one he used to drive in his uni days). No matter how much I asked him to throw that away he squealed like a girl protecting her virtue, not letting me come near that metal monstrosity. We agreed to put it away in the second bedroom which initially became a storage room.

One evening as I rocked my hips atop of him Jamie smirked that we marked each room in this flat. “ Aye, we did” I said mimicking him as I yanked my scrub top off over my head. Jamie made my body go limp against the shower tiles; he drew mewling sounds out of me on the kitchen table; my moans bounced off those high ceilings in the living room; his laboured breathing filled our bedroom and crawled up the walls. I gasped at the feeling of him in the storage room when Jamie announced his evident desire for a quickie; and he groaned “Oh, Claire” following his meandering Gaelic cursing as his hands tangled in my curls while I kneeled down unzipping his jeans.

Every time I showed up at work Geillis would never forget to ask me with a wink “So, my darling, how’s yer wee ginger? Loves ye well? I TOLD YE. Yer fucking glowing like a candle, Claire.”

Living with Jamie was a whole new experience. Now I had the luxury to wake up to his sleepy face and mussed curls every day. He would make the most miserable facial expression as I switch on the table lamp, grunting and burying himself under the layers of blanket. James Fraser was definitely not a morning person. “Five in the morning is torture,” he mumbled sleepily as I pressed a goodbye kiss to his forehead. “Normal people sleep at this time, ye ken. Go, save yer humans, Sassenach.” Squeezing my hand he turned to snooze immediately. But as soon as I got to work my phone would beep with his text message every morning “Have a great day, a nighean. Love ye.”

Any other morning I had a chance to stay in bed longer he’d wake me up with his hands, his mouth and his body molding into mine much like matching puzzle piece. I could not remember life without him anymore. Without his perfect morning coffee for me; without our banter or seriousness full talks in the darkness of the night, his hands on my hip, thumb carving the shape of my pelvic bone; without lazy evenings on the couch with Netflix and takeaway, my head resting on his chest, Jamie’s hand wrapped around my waist, and Adso curled on his lap.

Every day I had a pleasure of observing his fucking gorgeous post jog body. But like any other couple, we shared our bit of things that drove us crazy. Jamie had this annoying habit to turn the TV on so loud I had to scream like a banshee from the kitchen to get his attention. He also seemed to be very dedicated at the task of leaving the puddle of water on the bathroom floor after showering. I would not even want to mention his morning cologne spraying session that left a suffocating smell in the hallway. But, I myself was far from perfect. I had to endure him rolling his eyes at me and making disgusted faces as he plucked my hair out from the shower drain. Also, Jamie was patient with me and my attempts to cook and never protested eating ordered food. He would often volunteer for the task seeing me struggle with slimy spaghetti. But all those things did not matter as each night I fell asleep saying “I love you” lulled by his steady heartbeat beneath my cheek.

It had gotten to the point where I found that I could not live without him. So when Jamie had to leave to Inverness for three days I cursed at his business the whole day. Without him, I felt like the part of me was torn away and even Adso purring by my side couldn’t remedy the feeling. That’s why now I shamelessly found my place on Jamie’s lap, sparkling rosé in my hand. Our kitchen was filled with laughter, chats and instrumental indie playing from Google Home speaker Jenny and Ian gave us as a gift. The food was rich and tasty, the wine was pleasantly chill and Jamie’s left hand on my hip too much to handle. We haven’t made love for three days and I was positively flushed with desire. My skin was on fire - a mix of alcohol, laughter and Jamie.

“So, Claire, I do hope ye like yer wee rug?” Angus tried to wink at me sipping his red. I rolled my eyes and looked over my shoulder to have a look at his present again. It was a door rug in a bright green colour with a white cat on it that said: “Don’t forget to pet my pussy-cat”. He shoved it into my hands grinning. I was taken aback and did not know what to say. Meanwhile, Jamie broke into almost hysterical laughter, as I stood mouth agape. “Ye do have a cat, no?” Angus snorted and I only managed to nod as he welcomed himself inside our flat.

“Very thoughtful present,” I said, saluting my glass to Angus.

Untangling myself from Jamie’s embrace I excused myself to the bathroom. I washed my hands and caught sight of my face in the mirror. Cheeks pink coloured I splashed cold water on my face, feeling the drops run down my neck. Hair drawn back in a sweaty knot. When Jamie opens the door there is a trail of loud raucous laughter coming from the kitchen follows him.

“I’ll be right back,” I said thinking he came to get me. But the next moment the latch on the door clicked closed. His lips sought mine and he tasted of whisky leaving the burning sensation on my lips. His hands reached under my sweater, tracing the small of my back and then soft skin on my belly.

“I love them all, but I swear if they dinna leave soon, I’m going to have to kill all our guests” Jamie breathed out heavily as my hands fumbled with his belt, tugging at the stubborn zipper of the jeans. He cursed something in Gaelic that I did not understand when my fingers found his hot flesh.

“I might kill them myself,” I agreed, gently biting at his earlobe. My mouth fell open when Jamie snaked a hand between us, curling and tasting me with his fingers exactly right.  

“Christ, Claire” He muttered under his breath, fingers damp from his exploration. But our moment was rudely interrupted by Murtagh unceremoniously knocking on the door. “What are ye doing there, ye wee beasties? We need more booze.” Grunting in annoyance Jamie slid his belt back in and reached to pull my rolled sweater down. Kissing him chastely, we made it out back to our guests.

Over the next several days, we both were swirled into the routine business of life seeing each other mostly in the evenings. I’ve been extra busy at work and Jamie still had to finish important tasks at the brewery. Both of us exhausted, we barely managed to order takeaway, with me falling asleep on the couch as soon as the food was finished as a new episode of Peaky Blinders played. Jamie would carry me to the bedroom. He crept in beside me covering us both with a quilt. We would touch fingertips and sleep holding each other until the sun came uninvited, crawling inside the room. There was a silent agreement between us and the sex was at bay. There was a day when Jamie’s hands glided over my hips, finger drawing patterns at the panties waistband. Sleepily, I mumbled that I’m gross and disgusting and in need of a shower and shave. The other day I managed to pull off my sexiest face and slowly pull down my knickers I turned to find Jamie had fallen asleep soundly, mouth slightly agape. Chuckling, I picked my discarded underwear and slid under the blankets next to his starfish sprawled body.

Standing in the locker room at the hospital I’ve snapped a photo of myself. I turned myself provocatively displaying my ass to look as if I spent days in the gym (I did not of course) but nonetheless Jamie seemed more than fascinated by this body part of mine. Sending him the picture with capslock text “TONIGHT FRASER” I retreated back to work. All morning and lunch I spent thinking of the upcoming evening. Geillis took me out of my thoughts by grabbing my hand in the hallway.

“Claire, are ye alright?” Her eyes examined my face worriedly. “Ye look as pale as the wall behind ye.” I shook my head, reassuring her it’s nothing but a bit of nausea.

“I’m fine, Geil.” Running a palm over my clammy forehead I felt the imminent need to vomit. “It’s probably that sushi I had for lunch with Joe. I told him it did not look good.”

Giving me judgmental-mother look and shaking her head Geillis still made me sit down and close my eyes.

“Ye work too much, lass. Jamie needs to take ye on a holiday.”

The perspective of vacation sounded like an unreachable luxury at the moment but under Geillis’s superior look I agreed to go home earlier tonight. It started to rain hard outside when I crossed the threshold, dropping the bags of groceries down. Deciding that I might as well cook today instead of having takeaway again I strolled down the kitchen feeling slightly wamble and dizzy. After taking Pepto-Bismol and hoping it’ll help calm down my disgruntled stomach I opened a can of cat food, summoning Adso. But my cat was nowhere in sight. I’ve checked every nook and little corner, under the bed and couch. In the storage room as last time Jamie closed the cat in there by accident. My furry baby seemed to have vanished into thin air and I felt an oncoming wave of worry mixed with nausea. The open window in our bedroom hit me with a realisation. Eyes swelling with tears I dialled Jamie.

“Christ, Sassenach, I must have forgotten to close the damn window and the cheetie ran away.”

He promised to find him. I spent the evening googling stories of cats running away and cried some more thinking of my poor Adso alone in the cold rain, scared and hungry. I was sure I would not see my cat again. It was around midnight when the front door opened, Jamie’s footfalls startling me from my broken sleep on the couch. I rubbed my puffy eyelids as Jamie stepped inside the room.

His clothes were soaking wet, face painted with tiredness. But the smile on his lips was an encouraging sign. Unfolding his jacket Jamie stroked Adso’s grey ear who was nestled against his chest.

“Jamie! Oh, I can’t believe you did it.” I jumped up, taking Adso into my arms. He was wet and dirty, paws leaving marks on my skin. “Where did you find him?”

Taking off the jacket, Jamie leaned down to receive my kiss on his cheek.

"Here, you must be freezing cold." I reached for the bottle of whisky, pouring him a glass. When he gulped it down and his cheeks turn into baby-pink he told me.

“Ye’d never believe it. I spent hours just driving over the neighbourhood, mistaken at least three cats for him, but he was nowhere. And then I had an idea, it was crazy but possible.” Jamie ran his hands through his damp curls. “I drove to yer old place. And there he was, sitting in front of the door of yer old flat.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” Cradling Adso I reached for the towel I had just in case Jamie managed to bring him home. “Why did you run away, you silly?”

“I’m sorry, Claire. 'Twas my fault, I left the window open.” Jamie patted my thigh gently, looking guilty.

Lening in to kiss him, I traced his cheekbones with my fingers.

“You found him, Jamie. It’s all fine.”

* * *

Jamie woke to the sudden absence of Claire in the bed, her side of the blanket looking like a messy ball at the end of the bed. He could hear the water running in the bathroom. Glancing at the clock that showed three in the morning Jamie called out her name. When no response followed, he swung his legs down the bed, worry caused a cold feeling in his stomach as he walked to the bathroom.

“Sassenach, are ye al-” The words stuck in his throat seeing her small figure, curled on the floor next to the toilet. “Christ, Claire, what happened?” He kneeled down, cradling her head into his lap. His heart was pounding away in his ribcage, fear filling every fiber of his being. She looked pale as a paper sheet, sweaty curls stuck to her skin. Shaking her head weakly, she mumbled as quiet as he ever heard her “I’m okay.” But she was decidedly not okay. Her eyes closed then. Jamie picked her up, rushing to the car outside and mentally thanking all existing Gods that the hospital was just fifteen minutes away. Jamie was there in precisely seven minutes.

#she's back #once i was an eagle #maviemesregles #ann writes #jamie and claire #outlander #outlander fanfic #james fraser #claire beauchamp #modern au #outlander fic

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Whoops everyone’s poly

You guys remember that Mal/Jay/Evie/Carlos/Ben/Jane/Doug/Lonie post I made forever ago and said I probably wasn’t ever gonna write? Well. Turns out I’m gonna write it.

“You don’t have to be.” Mal says it with such conviction that Jane looks up from her shaking hands, blinking in stupid confusion at her. 

“What?”

“You don’t have to be a better daughter,” She says, firmer, and with none of the slow over-enunciation that usually accompanies her mother when Jane forces her to repeat herself. “If she refuses to be a better mother. It’s a two-way street, and since she’s the one who dragged you kicking and screaming into this world, she’s the one who owes you more.”

Oh. Oh, of course. For a second, Jane had forgotten who she was talking to, and now that she’s been reminded -- goodness, she’s so selfish, whining about such trivial problems to the isle kids. “It isn’t like that,” Jane rushes to explain. “It isn’t like --” The way Mal barely sleeps and Evie barely eats and Jay can’t stand being touched sometimes and Carlos has scars on every inch of him. “She would never hit me,” Jane says, instead of any of that. “She’s never once laid a hand on me.”

Mal breathes slowly out through her nose. Shakes her head. Meets Jane’s earnest stare with her own gaze too soft, too understanding. Says “She doesn’t have to.”

~~

Doug slams the side of his fists against the countertop, so full of rage and weariness that he’s sick with it all the way up to his lungs. It tastes like acid in his throat, spilling out past his lips. “We’re not human!” He snarls, angrier than he’s let himself be in a long, long time. “Dwarves and fairies and- and- genies and mer! We aren’t just humans with some extra pieces! We aren’t just different phenotypes, we’re completely different genotypes! It’s disgusting, the way they expect us to live!”

It isn’t fair to let this out in front of Jay. Doug feels kind of stupid about it actually, like a puppy yapping at a grizzled old police dog. His anger must look as pathetic as it feels, coming from someone like him, but -- dammit. 

“I am so goddamn tired,” He says, “Of chopping off pieces of myself so I don’t make some rich, spoiled asshole uncomfortable.”

His pitiful ranting sputters off into incoherent, angry noises. He thumps his fists against the counter a second time. A third, before he calms down enough to acknowledge that even though he’s sturdier than a human, his fists will still break before the marble does. He presses them down instead, palms flat against cold stone. Feels the hum of it under his hands like a struck anvil, ringing out.

In the sudden silence of the kitchen, he gasps “Sorry. Sorry, that -- I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”

Jay doesn’t answer. For a second, Doug thinks he must have left the kitchen when Doug started throwing his little temper tantrum. Serves you right, he thinks. Other people shouldn’t have to listen to you whining.

Then he jumps a mile in the air, because without making a single sound Jay crosses the kitchen and gets close enough to reach out and tug on a lock of Doug’s hair.

Jay doesn’t laugh at him for startling and whipping around though, doesn’t even poke fun at Doug’s raised hands, like he thinks he’s tough enough to win a fight against anyone. Jay just looks at him with his easy smile and reaches up again, pushing Doug’s glasses up from where they’d slipped down his nose. “Want me to braid your hair?” Jay asks.

~~

“Hold up.” Lonnie rounds on Carlos so fast he jumps. “You’ve been holding back on me?!”

“No, no!” Carlos waves his hands in front of him like he’s trying to blow away the very idea. “It’s just, I’m used to fights where people are trying to kill each other! Like, for real kill each other? And those are really hard! But here it’s hard in a different way, because we aren’t trying to hurt anybody and there’s rules about what moves I can and can’t use and it gets kinda confusing! I guess I just… have to concentrate more on doing things differently for ROAR because I learned a totally different way, and it makes me slower and, like. Clumsier. I guess.”

Lonnie groans, bringing her hand up to her face. “Okay,” She says, after taking a minute to contemplate this new information. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna get dressed, I’m gonna go get my sword, and we’re gonna meet in the training room in fifteen minutes to have a no-holds-barred, actual sword fight, and you’re gonna show me what you can really do. Got it?”

‘Uh. Now?” Carlos glances at the clock, brow furrowing. “But it’s already past curfew? And, I heard you saying you had a test tomorrow, don’t you wanna stu--”

“De Vil!” She cuts over him. It’s kind of cute, how quickly and how easily he jumps to attention when she calls on him. “Fifteen minutes. Do you need me to say it again?”

“No, Captain,” He says. When he shakeshakeshakes his head his curls go flying everywhere. That’s kinda cute, too. “I’ll be there.”

Lonnie lets her stern expression drop, grinning at him, and then grinning wider when his shoulders slump and he smiles shyly back at her. “Good,” She chirps. Then she turns on her heel and marches out of the room.

~~

It’s half past one in the morning. Ben will blame that for why he can’t seem to smile wide enough, can’t bring himself to brush off Evie’s concerns with quite enough grace. It’s half past one in the morning and Ben needs to be up in three and a half hours to meet with his financial advisors and he has two tests tomorrow that he hasn’t studied for and He’s expected to give a speech at the Gala this weekend and he’s still fighting with his counsel over housing arrangements for the new wave of isle kids even though they’ll be here in barely a month and he just. He can’t. Smile. Right now.

Weak, he thinks. You’re so weak.

Evie’s hand is small and warm and so gentle when she rests it against his arm, peering up at him with worry all over her face. “Ben?”

To his horror, he feels his eyes start to sting. He turns away from her, clenches them shut, hoping against hope that she hasn’t noticed. “I’m sorry,” He gets out through the sudden knot in his throat. “Sorry, I’m. I’m just a little over tired is all, I was just --”

“Getting coffee?” Evie accuses, not unkindly. “At almost two am?”

“I have. Paperwork.”

“Ben.” She doesn’t try to force him to look at her, which is a good thing, because his fight against the tears is a losing battle. It’s all he can do to breathe instead of break down sobbing. “Ben, sweetheart. When was the last time you slept? Or…” A thoughtful pause. A dangerous pause, because Evie is observant and she pays attention to everything and the only person better than her at noticing things Ben would rather keep hidden is Carlos, who Ben has managed to avoid.

When Evie speaks again, her voice is even softer, practically whispering to him in the low light of the kitchen. “Or ate? Or got some exercise, or did something you enjoyed?”

He can’t answer her. He’s too busy trying to stop crying. Part of him is almost grateful for it, because it means he doesn’t have to admit that he doesn’t remember.

“Oh, Ben…”

He risks a look over his shoulder. Through blurry eyes, he sees her, looking at him with such open heartbreak on her face. Whatever defenses he has, they aren’t strong enough to withstand that. He crumples forward against the table, buries his face in his hands. “I don’t--” He hiccups out. Coughs. Swallows. Tries to breathe. “I don’t know what to do.”

#Descendants #Disney Descendants #Jay ibn Jafar #Evie Grimhilde #Carlos de Vil #Mal Bertha #jane descendants #Doug son of Dopey #Ben Florian #Li Lonnie #I'm not tagging ships #uh... I don't think anything here needs a trigger warning? #Ask to tag #I'm prioritizing TKAAR so this will be slow coming but it's in the works #alice writes #snippets and teasers

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch18

Short fic?  Really?  How the hell have we reached chapter 18 already?  

@willow-salix has been a huge support all the way through.  She wields the red pen mightily

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Eighteen

John closed the apartment door and basked in the silence.  The last few weeks had been awful but the last few days had been hellish.  If you had asked him two days ago what had been the hardest part of this summer he would have answered without hesitation his thesis defence interview, not because he had any difficulty with his project but because, even after 4 years at Harvard some of the faculty still struggled with his presence.  

He had bounced onto the quad aged sixteen, looking more like twelve, and instantly made a name for himself by criticising the work of one of the more well respected professors on campus.  It probably hadn’t helped that he had been right.  Since then he had been dogged by whispers of ‘Daddy’s money’ or heckled as an android freak as he eschewed the company of the peers that would never truly be peers due to the gaps in both age and intellect.  University had been a bittersweet mix of unbridled access to learning mixed with a social web to navigate that made high school look like an insignificant warm up.  The culmination of it all had been his thesis defence in front of a panel who didn’t know whether to be intimidated by him or offer him a cookie for being a good boy.  Still, he was walking away from it all, with dual honours and a postgraduate distinction, at an age not dissimilar from those just starting their higher education journey.

The troubles and torments of university, however, had nothing on the hell on Earth that was Boston airport for an extended period of time. He could now categorically say that this had been the worst part of the summer.  The route between east and west coast seemed to be plagued by delays but this, his final time of making the journey, had topped the lot.  Being held up for an unspecified period of time in an airport lounge had brought out the worst in humanity and after a delay that had pushed past 36 hours in the end he would be quite happy to never see another human ever again.  With the apartment door firmly shut on the outside world he fully intended to recharge and bask in the solitude before Alan got home from school.

He padded up the hallway to deposit the travel bag containing a few meagre essentials in his room but never made it that far.

The apartment might have been silent but it wasn’t empty.  His room was next to Alan’s and through the open door he could see that self same teenager sat cross legged on the bed, head set on, controller in hand and eyes glued to the screen that flashed with neon laser cannons and moved at a dizzying pace.  Part of him wanted to tiptoe on past, pretend he hadn’t spotted his younger brother, and collapse onto his own bed.  John could have sworn that he hadn’t done anything that could penetrate the teenager’s electronic cocoon but before he had crossed the doorway Alan’s head whipped round and fixed him with an intense blue stare.

Alan paused the game, dropped the controller next to him and slid off the headset.  He continued to stare in a way that he could see was making his older brother uncomfortable, holding the eye contact that always made John squirm a little, but at this point he didn’t care.

The weeks before Gordon’s departure had been busy.  With a fixed deadline firmly etched on the calendar Jeff had ramped up the pressure on Gordon to gain his pilot’s licence and all the myriad of special endorsements he would need beyond the basics in order to complete a cross-continental journey solo.  Alan wasn’t quite sure why such a high rated licence was necessary but he had appreciated all the extra time at the airfield it necessitated.  Almost every weekend had been spent there so that Gordon could get in the required practice and he had always tagged along, partly to spend more time with Gordon and partly in the hope of getting a lesson himself; it turned out flying was something he had a flair for and he relished those precious moments in the cockpit.  But then Gordon had gained his licence and the lessons had dried up.  Time in the sky went from being a priority to something his father was too busy to provide.  It rankled that he wasn’t worth the effort. 

And then the dreaded day had come.  The day he lost the brother he was closest to to the military might of WASP.  He’d probably come across as petulant and moody, his goodbyes stilted and brief, but the sullen exterior had been his armour protecting him from breaking as something inside him died.  He hadn’t even been able to go with Gordon on the trip up the coast as had been the original plan.  A last minute change had seen their father disappear off on some mysterious overseas errand, leaving Virgil to play taxi service to the WASP to be.  He had begged to go too but unfortunately for him the start date for Gordon had coincided with Scott having some leave and Virgil was staying up north to indulge in some oldest brother bonding time.  So he had been left behind, alone in the apartment, with the promise that John would have arrived by morning. 

Morning had dawned but the promised sibling hadn’t appeared.  The logical side of him knew there would be a perfectly rational explanation for John’s delay but the emotional side of him just added it to the heap of rejection he was feeling.  No one gave a damn about him.  Noone cared what he was doing.  He’d turned right around and headed back into his room to kill zombies.  When the second morning dawned and he was still alone the only difference it made was that the zombies were replaced by asteroids.  

John was pinned uncomfortably by the stare.  Everything about Alan screamed out that he was issuing a challenge, daring John to pass comment.  If he had ignored John’s presence he probably would have been left alone but John was a Tracy too and as with all Tracys he never could resist a challenge. 

“No school today?” he queried, one eyebrow raised in preemptive skepticism.

“Does it look like it?”

“What it looks like is you playing video games on a Tuesday in term time.  The news didn’t mention any schools being flattened by freak hurricanes so why are you here?”

Alan just shrugged and went to pick up his controller again.

“Alan!” 

“What?!  It’s not like there’s any point me being there.”

“There is always a point to school.”

“Yeah?  Well I’m not learning anything there, the stuff they set is just insulting.”

This was one point John could empathise with, boredom in the classroom was a familiar feeling to him.  He felt lucky that he had met forward thinking teachers early on in his school career.  Teachers that had put the effort in to find out his level rather than being happy to have a coasting child in the class that didn’t need their assistance.  The result had seen him progressing through grade school at a pace that, while it still felt slow to him, at least meant he wasn’t inflicted with the full, tortuous twelve years.  Alan on the other hand had been forced to stay firmly in his age grade. 

“What about your friends, surely you’re bored here without them?”

That just earned him an eye roll.

“Can we just skip the questions and head straight to the part where you lecture me.”

“Would it make a difference?  I’m not Dad but you do realise he is going to be majorly pissed when he finds out, don’t you?”

“He’ll only find out if you tell him.”

“You think he won’t find out from school?”

Alan just sighed.

“Seriously Johnny, Gordon and I got all comms from school diverted directly to us years ago.  I’ve already responded to their email.”

“You and Gordon did that?” He was secretly a little impressed that his brothers had found a way to bypass the school systems although he was concerned that their father had seemingly never noticed.

“Well, okay, I did that.  Gordon’s not so hot on the technical stuff but it was his idea.  Dad’s never been that great at dealing with letters and permission slips so I just got in through a school admin account and updated the contact details.  If it’s not a report card he isn’t interested.”

John decided not to pass comment on the low level hacking his baby brother had pulled off.  Instead he picked his way across the minefield that was Alan’s floor to join his little brother on the bed.  The mattress felt deliciously soft compared to the plastic seat upon which he had been forced to spend the night and he felt his bones sigh in relief.  His own bed was still calling out to him but his big brother instincts were screaming at him to fix things, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed to fix.  The screaming won.  He leaned across to grab a second controller off the cluttered bedside unit and synced it into the game.

“So, what’re we playing?  I don’t recognise this one but then there wasn’t much time for gaming at Harvard.”

Alan looked bemused by the turn of events.  Scott held an authority that demanded respect, Virgil would take a softer and more caring approach, Gordon provided a mix of straight talking and fun whereas their father subscribed to the school of parenting that was mostly indifferent until an indiscretion was unearthed.  John was still a bit of an unknown entity, he’d never taken on the role of authority figure for Alan and he couldn’t work out his brother’s strategy.  

  “Uh, it’s something I made myself.”  Alan disconnected his headset and the background music of the pause screen sounded out harshly in the otherwise quiet apartment eliciting an involuntary wince from John.  He guiltily turned the volume down to a more comfortable level before resuming play.

They sat side by side in silence for a few minutes, blasting asteroids and navigating their way through a fast moving debris field.  The game concept appeared simple and John wondered why Alan had done it; it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to stock up on the commercially available games.

“Games design is a new one for you, this a school project or something?”

John sensed the eye roll even without taking his own eyes off the screen.

“Hardly.  School sucks.”

“So, why make the game?”

“It’s not about the game.  I wanted to see if I could model a debris field.  Thought if I could get it right it could be good training, you know, before astronaut school.”  

“I think you’ll find Tracy College already has their own simulators.  How do you even know this is accurate.”  Alan had made no secret about his desire to head into space and it looked like that was still the life plan.  Part of John hoped the game wasn’t accurate, the objects were flying in thick and fast and he was struggling to react in time to find a clear path for his craft and guide it through.  Alan, on the other hand, was having no such difficulties; his movements were lightening fast and the game seemed to hold no challenge for him.

“Borrowed your books.”  Alan set his own controller down as John’s ship took a direct hit and exploded in a mass of technicolour pixels that ended the game.  He stretched out and plucked a weighty tome off the edge of his desk.

“Borrowed?  I don’t remember you asking.”  John recognised the volume as one of the few undergraduate text books he had investing in the hard copy of.  Slips of coloured paper stuck out at intervals and the pages were rather more worn and well thumbed than he remembered.  

Alan pointedly ignored the question and instead flipped through to the relevant pages.  

“I’m not sure if I got this bit right though.  I struggled to combine the effect of an explosion induced debris field interacting with a meteor shower.”

However John had been expecting his talk to go with Alan, it hadn’t been like this.  He soon found himself drawn into an animated discussion of the core principles of astrophysics and how material behaved in a vacuum.  Alan’s grasp of the subject, considering he was entirely self taught, surprised the elder Tracy.  On his rare visits home Alan had always pestered him to go star gazing or asked him his thoughts on the latest developments in astronaut training but he’d had no idea that Alan’s interest had extended into him seemingly attempting to study most of the first year of his Harvard course from home.  No wonder the kid was bored at school.  

When Jeff returned later that night it was to find the two boys deeply engrossed in some project or other.  Books and piles of scribbled notes lay scattered around them and John’s fingers danced through lines of holographic code as he pointed out some facet or other to the younger boy who seemed to hang on his every word.  He assumed John was helping Alan with his homework and thought no more of it as he settled down to his own evening. 

xoxoxox

“Mr Tracy, a Miss West is on the line for you.”

Jeff frowned at the unexpected intrusion from his personal assistant.  “Miss West?”  He couldn’t place the name.

“She says she is calling from the High School, Sir”

“Put her through then.”  He paused a moment until the slight click indicating a change in caller reached his ears.  

“Mr Tracy?  I’m Sarah West, Alan’s home room teacher.”  The woman on the other end of the call sounded slightly nervous and with good reason, the Tracy reputation was formidable and seeing Alan’s name on her class list when he had joined the school had led to rounds of commiserations in the faculty lounge.

“Miss West, what can I do for you?”  He tried to keep the puzzlement out of his voice.  The last time he had received a call from the school, or any kind of communication now he came to think about it, had been over Gordon’s suspension.  He hoped he was not in for a repeat of that embarrassing incident.

“I just wanted to check on how Alan was doing.  The class are all missing him and hope he is able to return to school soon.”

Jeff understood the words being spoken but the actual sentiments made no sense.  As far as he was concerned Alan was at school at that very moment.  He kept his voice carefully neutral.

“I thank you for your concern Miss West.  I will certainly pass on your regards when I see Alan this evening.”

“Thank you Mr Tracy.  Please accept my best wishes for you and all your family, it can be so hard when these things happen.  Please keep me informed of his progress through the parent portal and once Alan is well enough to come back we will look at putting a catch up and transition programme in place for him.  Alan is a bright boy and I have every confidence that he will be able to catch up with these missed weeks.”

“Thank you Miss West.  I will of course keep you informed.  Now if you will excuse me.”

“Of course Mr Tracy, goodbye.”

“Goodbye Miss West.”

Missed weeks.  The words rang out in his head, causing him to rub his temples.  Trouble at school had always been Gordon’s domain, he’d been gone for months but still his influence was being felt.  Alan had always taken after John until now; good grades, generally studious and with a passion for space. Whatever was going on Jeff knew he needed to nip it in the bud.  Pausing only to inform his PA that he would be heading out for lunch and might not return that day Jeff headed back to the apartment.

Jeff found Alan in his room, engrossed in some project or other.  He rapped smartly on the doorframe, breaking the teen’s concentration and causing him to look round in surprise.  The look Jeff was treated to wasn’t one of fear or remorse though and there was certainly no sign of guilt at being caught where he shouldn’t.

“Alan, my study.  Now!”  He strode off down the hallway without waiting for a response.

Alan sighed and followed, knowing that to ignore a direct command would be foolish.  By the time he reached the study Jeff was already behind the desk in his customary position for dispensing judgement, a situation Alan had rarely been in but had certainly heard about often enough from Gordon.  He was more than a little intimidated at the prospect of what was to come but he tried not to let it show as he stood there, ramrod straight, waiting for his father to make the opening move.

“So Alan, I had an interesting call from Miss West today.  Explain yourself”  

The words caused Alan’s stomach to drop, there was no way he could pass today off as an isolated incident now.  He had been signing off on his absences via the parent portal but if his teacher had actually called up then it was likely his father knew everything.  Not knowing what to do for the best he opted to say nothing.  The silence stretched out uncomfortably as he felt himself being appraised by eyes as hard as flint.

“I see.  Let’s keep this simple.  How long have you been skipping school for?”

“Since the beginning of the semester.”  There was no point lying about it now.  After his few days of indiscretion when Gordon first headed off to WASP John had made sure he went off to school each day.  At the end of the summer holidays though, with John and Virgil departed for Tracy College, there was no one to force the issue.  September had arrived and with it the start of a new school year but among the faces arriving for a fresh round of learning Alan’s had been notably absent.

“Why?  Your teacher seems to be under the impression you are unwell.  Are you unwell?”  The skeptical lilt to the voice and raised eyebrow would have made even John proud.

“No.”

“So why are you risking failing high school?” 

“Failing it?”  Alan snorted  “School’s boring.  I’d be able to get my diploma now if they’d just stick me in the right classes, then I could be done with the place.”

“And what makes you think you could complete your diploma now if you won’t attend class” 

“John did.”  Alan’s chin jutted out in defiance and Jeff was given a sudden and uncomfortable reminder of another son who had found school far too easy.  The arguments may have had a different focus but Alan wouldn't be the first Tracy to have found the system too limiting, the difference being that John had been fast tracked before the boredom got too much.  “I’m not learning anything at school.  It’s not like I’m just flunking out though, John’s been sending me some stuff through that’s far more interesting.”

“That’s as maybe but did John tell you to just ditch classes?  I seem to remember him maintaining an exemplary attendance record”

For the first time Alan felt a wave of guilt, the weight of it causing him to bow his head in shame.  John may have agreed with him that the school work he was being set was far too easy and been coaching him on more challenging topics to feed his thirst for knowledge on all things astronomical, but his brother would never have condoned him skipping class.  He was not going to let John take any of the blame for his choices.

“No, Sir.”  

“I see.”

Alan wasn’t quite sure what it was his father saw as he stood there being appraised like some interesting specimen.  There was another drawn out silence.  He could almost hear his father’s thoughts as he considered his next move.

“Show me.”  Alan’s head jerked up in confusion.  “Persuade me.  A key skill you would learn in school, if you were there, is how to present a well balanced and constructed argument.  Prove your case.  I’ll be here waiting.”

Alan had been expecting some sort of reprimand, either a bawling out or a quietly pronounced punishment.  So far he had received neither and he was feeling a little on the back foot but then his father had a flair for the unexpected, it’s what made him a formidable adversary in the boardroom.  He retreated to his room to think upon the challenge.  He wasn’t sure what he wanted to prove, didn’t have a clue what his argument was or what he wanted to achieve but he knew he had better come up with a plan fast.  It felt like he was being offered a lifeline of some sort but a lifeline that had the potential to cut you down if grasped in the wrong way.

He retreated into his room and sat down at the desk, the detritus of his latest project from John scattered in front of him where he had abandoned it at his father’s command.  What did he want?  He knew he didn’t want to go back into that hell-pit high school, each day of drudgery just sapped the life out of him, but how could he prove to his father that school was only holding him back?  He gazed unseeingly as the scribbled formulae he had been working on, all the time conscious that his father wouldn’t wait forever.

Those same formulae presented him with his answer.  His father had always been focussed on results, getting the most efficient return on his investment and abhorred anything he viewed as a waste of time.  Alan knew that if he could prove beyond doubt that attending school was just wasting precious learning time then he might never have to go back.  He started gathering together the work he had been doing for John as evidence that he really didn’t need to sit through another hour of basic trigonometry when he was already able to apply it to complex problems.  

Jeff sat back and waited.  He couldn’t predict Alan’s next move but then he realised he didn’t really know Alan at all.  All the way through the young boy’s life his care had fallen to others.  Others had formed him and moulded him and evidently turned Alan into someone capable of missing several weeks of school under his nose without him realising.  Those influences had all been evident during their short exchange.  He had witnessed Gordon’s defiance and determination, John’s intellect and Virgil’s sense of justice.  Even traces of Scott were evident in the set of Alan’s jaw and the way he held his shoulders despite Scott only really being present for half of Alan’s short life.  How telling that a brother absent some eight years held more influence than he did as father.  If there was one thing common to all his sons though it was the ability to rise to a challenge; the afternoon had the potential to be surprising.

Jeff never made it back to the office.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a meaningful and in depth discussion with his youngest son.  His conversations with Alan were normally limited to a few perfunctory exchanges in the evening and maybe a goodbye if Alan was up before he headed to the office.  Over the course of the afternoon he got more insights into Alan than any mere report card could give.  For a start those bland documents could only show that Alan had met the maximum expected standard for his class, behind the lists of grades his son’s true abilities had been hidden.  

Alan might have been skipping school but he hadn’t been squandering his time.  Jeff was treated to comparisons of the high school math curriculum compared to the problems John had been setting, ostensibly as a way of Alan bolstering a future college application as the middle Tracy had been unaware that the youngest had abandoned his traditional studies completely.  Physics, coding and a raft of other topics handy for the modern astronaut similarly followed and it became clear that Alan was willing to put the effort in on the topics that interested him. 

Once Alan had finished lambasting the Californian education system he turned hopeful eyes on his father.

“So, can I quit?” 

If there was one thing that Jeff agreed on it was that the current curriculum being inflicted on Alan was uninspiring and certainly not challenging for the youngster.  He was also conscious that his lawyers had not managed to secure the removal of their family tragedy from the text books in time for this academic year and therefore Alan would be subjected to the same ordeal as Gordon in just a few short months time if he stayed in the classroom.   However, he also knew that without a high school diploma Alan would be unlikely to be able to access the higher education he needed to turn his dreams of space into a reality; he knew this from his own path to the stars.

“No.”   

“But Dad…” 

“No Alan, I will not have any son of mine walking away from education without a high school diploma.  If you are at all serious about becoming an astronaut then you need to play by the rules, without a diploma you would be ineligible for any of the space programmes out there.”  

Jeff watched the disappointment flood his son’s features and wondered if Alan had really been paying attention to his words and whether he would spot the loophole in his pronouncement.  He waited as Alan put together his next move, he could almost see the thoughts as they played out.  Alan always had been the son to wear his emotions closest to the surface.

“I just have to get my diploma, right?”  There was a hesitancy as a glimmer of hope was seized on.

“That’s right.”

“But there are other ways of getting my diploma, not just in school.  Right?”  

“Potentially.  So what do you want to do?”

“Can I...can I do homeschool?  I’m sure we’ve got everything I need to join an online programme and then just get it done.”

Jeff paused as though contemplating the request.  Really, having Alan homeschooled would be better for both of them; Alan could learn at his own pace and he would find it easier to have oversight of his son’s progress and commitment.  

“You have until the end of the week to find a suitable programme otherwise I will march you straight back to the classroom myself on Monday morning.  I know you don’t see the point of half the subjects you have to take but they are important, your diploma is important, even if it’s only as a paper steppingstone to better things.”  Jeff found himself on the receiving end of one of Alan’s grins and realised sadly that he hadn’t seen one of those since their last flying lesson.  “Now, don’t you have some research to do?”

Alan took the hint and headed out of the study with far more bounce than he’d had when entering it.  Jeff had no concerns about delegating the task to his son, the similarities to John had been clear to see and he had every faith that Alan would find a suitable programme within the allotted time frame.  The fact that the change to homeschooling came with the added bonus of one less loose end to tie up when the time came to relocate was not lost on him.

#High Expectations #thunderbirds #Thunderbirds fanfiction #Jeff Tracy #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #space brothers getting their own way

[cold-ugly]

🥀 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖉 & 𝖚𝖌𝖑𝖞 chapter 1

       Sleepless hours trickled past as I lay huddled under a fortress of blankets, waiting for the alarm to go off. I rubbed my stinging eyes, and sat up in bed, shivering in the freezing AC. I hastened to quiet my alarm before it woke the prison wardens - that's a special word for family. With all my will, I removed myself from the blanket fortress, and flipped on the light, blinking in stark contrast to the pitch darkness I found security in. I glanced at the mirror on my wall, disappointed but not surprised. As I stood up, haze clouded my vision, and static flooded my head.

       I fell back onto the bed in a rush of pins and needles. I sank onto my knees to the floor from my bed, to hastily retrieve my clothes scattered upon the floor. I squeezed into my sports bra, and began the lengthy process of layering tank tops with shirts with sweaters with hoodies, leggings with jeggings with sweatpants, socks with socks with socks - and more socks. I struggled to get my socked feet into my red sneakers. Into my pockets, I stuffed my phone and headphones, and a little box with my pipe, bud, and a lighter. I sipped on water as I peeked out the window, noticing that the sun had yet to rise, before I began the descent into madness. I turned off the light, closed my door without a sound, and tiptoed down the tiled hall to silently slip out the front door. I stashed my little pot box beneath an evergreen, then trudged up the hill towards the sidewalk.

       I gave a few shakes of each leg to loosen my muscles, as I plugged in the headphones and chose my playlist of songs with intense climaxes and heavy breakdowns. At the first note, my heart rate preemptively elevated. I sprang into a light jog, the piercingly cold November air practically slicing my cheeks. The sun was only a tease of dim light hidden behind the horizon. Being atop a tall hill, I gazed below onto the misty winter countryside, the barren trees floating by as I sprinted. The burning in my fingers and toes subsided into numbness, and each dry breath hitched in my sore chest. With each footstep I felt the reverberation of my jiggling thighs. As my stomach cramped, and I wanted to lay down in the frosted grass, I rested my hand onto my absent ribs, snuffed under layers of clothes and flesh. I ran harder. I didn't count laps, there was no end goal, no ribbon, no finish line, no winning this race. I'm finished when my knees buckle, until the next moonlit morning.

       Panting, nearly heaving, I trudged downhill, the melting frost soaking through my worn-down sneakers. Once safe behind the evergreen, sheltered from any prying eyes, I unpacked my little box. I squatted to use my thighs as a table (they're surely huge enough) to set down the pipe as I packed in the fluffy weed. After several failed attempts, I finally managed to light the bowl with my numb fingers. The first breath of warm smoke after I'd been gasping such freezing air burned my hoarse throat, and as it filled my lungs I relaxed. With my exhale, I released a gorgeous cloud that dissolved into the gradually lightening sky.

       I snuck back into the living room, the AC nearly as cold as outside. As my door clicked shut, the first stirrings of morning life emerged. Through our shared wall, my sister's alarm blared incessantly. I shed my layers, tossing them back to the floor where I found them, slipped on my black fuzzy robe, and tied my unwashed hair into a greasy bun. I stuffed my headphones and tiny bud box into the front pocket of my leather backpack, then headed toward the bathroom. On my way, I heard my mom's door creak open, and I hurriedly slipped away behind the safety of a locked door. I ran the water hot, tossed the robe onto the counter, and stepped into the delightful ecstacy of warmth. As I looked to the water spiralling down the drain, I noticed the strawberry-red color of my fingertips and toes thawing. I shivered under the water for who knows how long, until rapid knocks interrupted my peace. I shut off the water and bundled myself in a towel, grabbed my robe, and opened the door.

       "You took a shower, but you didn't wash your hair? That's disgusting." My sister remarked. "Save it, I never see you brush your teeth. Your teeth are gonna end up like your brain: full of holes." I shoved past her and hustled back to my room, sighing in annoyance. I dried off and quickly dressed in a huge grey sweater over a t-shirt, and black fleece-lined leggings. After taking down my hair, I tried to brush it but gave up, and tied it back in a high ponytail. I checked my phone to see no texts, set an alarm for fifteen minutes, and placed it on my desk. I opened my laptop, turned on some music, and went to Minecraft. After the fifteen minutes was up, I zipped up my boots and threw my backpack over my shoulder. I headed to the kitchen to retrieve my half-gallon of lemon water from the fridge. My mom was standing at the counter adding splenda to her black coffee. "Good morning," she croaked. "Good morning," I echoed politely as possible, grabbing my water and setting it on the counter next to my sister's sequined lunchbox. On cue, she appeared, and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet next to me. As she poured her lucky charms, mom commented, "Why don't you eat the cheerios? You know that shit is loaded with sugar. Y'know it can cause cancer-"

"Mom, c'mon," my sister interjected, "it's already in the bowl." I rolled my eyes and headed toward the door. My mom called after me, "So what, no breakfast?"

"I eat at school, you keep forgetting."

"They serve you crap there. You're letting them kill you."

"Them and everyone else," I grabbed my coat from its hook on the wall, and left.

       Secure again behind the evergreen, I squatted to pack my second bowl, and puffed it as I scrolled mindlessly on my phone. My instagram and school email each had several notifications that I continued to diligently neglect. To my right, someone's footsteps crunched in the grass. I peeked through the leaves, relieved to see my sister's pink coat. She ducked behind the tree with me, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket.

       "Now that is disgusting," I commented as she lit one of her cancer-sticks. She dismissively shrugged her shoulders. After all of mom's lectures that everything is a carcinogen, it's no wonder my sister is so desensitized. We smoked in silence until we heard the distant screech of the bus braking at the top of the hill. I stashed my box underneath the tree in a shallow hole, and covered it with leaves. We sprinted to the bus stop, joining the rest of the high schoolers in the neighborhood as they filed into the musty vehicle. I took an empty seat near the middle and put my backpack next to me, while my sister went to sit with her friend group at the very back. I plugged in my headphones, adjusted my coat, and took my notebook from my backpack to finish the homework I should’ve done a week ago.

       I dropped off my backpack in front of my first class on my way to the breakfast line. As I queued with the other students, I scrolled through the fashion inspiration pictures saved in my phone, in a special folder. My heart shattered at each flawless photo of people my age flaunting the clothes I wished I could wear. While moving slowly through the line, I grabbed a gatorade zero and an apple juice. Walking back to my first class, I passed several people I’d grown up with since elementary school, and as they talked amongst themselves like any happy normal teen, I seemed to phase right through them. I took my assigned seat near the front, and placed my notebook on the desk to hurriedly finish the homework.

       Students rushed through the door as the bell rang. Whoever sits in front of me appeared to be absent, so I propped my feet up in the seat. I was still scribbling the last few answers onto my paper as the national anthem blasted over the intercom. My peers shot nasty looks at me as I remained seated while they stood. After all the sheep had finished baa-ing the pledge of allegiance, the teacher called for homework to be passed to the front. Amidst a symphony of zipping backpacks and rustling papers, two girls in the row next to me obnoxiously squabbled over a phone. “Let me see it!” one wailed. I sipped my apple juice while I observed the girls grappling to rip the phone out of the other’s hand. As they wrestled for the phone, it flew, like a projectile, and knocked the bottle out of my hand. I gasped in shock as the juice splashed all over me.

“What’s going on?” the teacher demanded. I sped over to her and presented my drenched clothes. “Can I please go change? I spilled my drink. I’m sorry,” I replied. “Oh, okay, go ahead. I’ll call the janitor.” I grabbed my backpack, and rushed out of the room.

       I took a detour to my locker and grabbed my gym bag on the way to the bathroom. Once locked in the very back stall, I dropped my coat to the floor and pulled my sweater over my head. Relieved that my undershirt was surprisingly dry, I dug in my gym bag for a new long-sleeve. I pulled out the sneakers, shorts, and socks, emptied the bag, and my heart sank. The long-sleeve wasn’t there. Why the fuck isn’t my shirt in here? I sighed and held my head in my hands. What the fuck am I going to do? I shoved the wet clothes into my gym bag, put my sneakers on them, and stuffed in the clean clothes on top. Sitting on the bathroom floor, I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my arm on them. Damn it. Now I remember that I took my gym shirt home yesterday because I wanted to switch it with the red one, but I forgot to bring the red one today. Typical.

        On my way down the hall, I noticed the custodian leaving my classroom. “Sir,” I called after him, “I’m so sorry you had to clean up my mess. Must have been a sticky situation." He chuckled, “It’s no issue, I’ve seen worse.” I smiled, and told him to have a good day. As I returned to my seat, the teacher called my name. “This is the assignment, hon, it’s just questions one through twenty on page 103 of your textbook. If you do twenty through thirty, you'll get bonus points,” she handed me the paper. As I outstretched my hand to take it, I followed her gaze to my lacerated forearm. I snatched the paper and hustled back to my seat, where I took out the textbook from my backpack and flipped through the pages. God, she saw my arm. She's going to tell on me, fuck, they're gonna call my mom again. How can I get out of this? What page did she say? 130? 113? I consulted the board, and saw it was blank. With no shoulder in front of me to peek over, I strained to glance at the neighboring row, and frantically combed through my book to find a page that looked similar to theirs. Someone got up and turned in their assignment before I even found the correct page.

       Sitting in my second class, I skimmed over my notes for the test while I waited for the bell to ring. My left palm remained flat on the cold desk, sheltering my forearm. Throughout the class, I tried to be so invisible as to draw no attention to myself. I labored on each answer of the test, in an effort to bring up my grade, and consequently quiet my mom’s bickering. As I glanced around the room, I noticed other students finishing up while I lagged behind.

Knock knock.

My heart skipped a beat.

“Is Ren here?” asked a student assistant from the guidance counsellor’s office.

My teacher replied, “We’re in the middle of a test, can this wait?”

“Sorry, it’s urgent.”

“Ren, could you come here please?”

     I brought my test with me, and gave it to the teacher, who notified me that I’ll need to finish it during lunch. I nearly held my breath as I approached the door. The assistant told me to go with him. I trailed him silently down the halls, and took a seat in the office. “Your counsellor will call you back in a minute,” he reported. With my arm in my lap, I glimpsed around the walls at all the motivational posters with meaningless quotes, heart pounding in my chest. I can’t fucking believe I let this happen. As I looked around, I noticed a girl sitting in the chair in front of me, who was entranced by the pastel blue, stickered, and bedazzled DSI in her hands. Her hair was half black and half lavender, divided into two long braids, and a pink sweater draped elegantly over her freckled shoulders. In her lap perched a white purse shaped like a cat. “I like your purse,” I blurted, “I love cats.”

Her chestnut-brown eyes drifted up to meet mine. “Thank you,” her voice was silky and small. “They’re my favorite. I have three, how many do you have?”

“I actually can’t have cats right now, my mom is allergic,” I admitted.

“That’s awful,” she pouted, “you should see mine.”  She took out her yellow phone and showed me her lockscreen, a calico cat. “This is Muffin! She’s so old! And so chunky.”

“She’s adorable,” I smiled, and noticed I’d been biting my nails.

“So are you here for the group?” she inquired. I gave her a puzzled look.

“Uh, which group?” I asked, confused. Like, a high school version of narcotics anonymous?

“Y’know, the counsellors made a girls group,” she replied, “for our mental health.”

Oh.

       “That sounds cool,” I sighed. It’s already uncomfortable enough that I have to use the women’s restroom. “So you should join!” she squealed. I looked to the floor, and noticed her sparkly sneaker was untied.  “Your shoe is untied.” She raised her leg to inspect the shoe, and frowned. “I don’t know how to tie them,” she whined. I raised an eyebrow, and almost held my tongue, but offered, “I could do it for you.” She smiled and extended her foot to me. I knelt, and tied the laces in a double knot, then double-knotted the other shoe. “Thank you! You’re so nice. So if you aren’t here for the group, then what are ya here for?”

        Silent, I looked at her, reaching for a possible explanation that wouldn’t freak her out. Her face softened, and she gestured to my arm. She saw. She hates me now. “Is it because of the cuts?” I nodded, my face burning red in shame. “It’s okay,” she reached out and patted my knee. “It’s just an inconvenience, right? Just an uncomfortable conversation, and then it’s over.”

       “They’re gonna call my mom,” I confessed, “I don’t wanna get into it with her. I just got my door back a couple weeks ago. I seriously don’t want to do this again.” She stared at me silently, then her eyes suddenly lit up. She bent down to rummage in her cherry-print backpack, then tossed into my lap a light yellow jacket. “Maybe they won’t make you roll up the sleeves,” she chirped hopefully. “Thank you,” I slipped on the soft jacket and cringed at how tight the sleeves felt around my arms, realizing I probably can’t even zip it up over my stomach. She beamed, and a door clicked open. “We’re ready for you,” a counsellor informed the girl. She cheerfully stood up, waved bye to me, and disappeared into the room. Her jacket smelled clean and sweet, the way fresh snow looks like it should taste.

#chapter1 #chapters

[som3thingcr3ative]

Voluspa Part 5

It’s HERE!!!!!!! I promised a new chapter, and I have delivered. This one is a little slower, but things will pick up veeeery soon, I just needed to get some backstory in, some life in characters. 

(side note, this looks longer on my google docs...the next one will be longer and sooner, I promise.)

synopsis: Astrid is welcomed to the feast and to Kattegat. She meets a new ally and settles into her new home, enjoying the attentions of a certain Viking King. 

warnings: mentions of suicide, drinking, slavery. 

previously: 

“I have seen it,” I say, raising my chin just a tad. My fingers leave Einar’s fur and relax at my side. No fear. “The gods have shown me.”“

“I like this one,” Ivar muses, leaning forward once again, his eyes on me. “You are welcome here, Astrid. So long as your loyalties remain true, you are my honored guest. Welcome to Kattegat!”

PART 1 2 3 4 5 6

That night, I can relax. Old Norse takes no effort for me; it comes as naturally as any language to a native speaker, which allows my efforts to shift toward containing a disturbing number of prophecies from slipping out of my mouth. Normally, if I were to prophesy, it would be in Old Norse around english speaking people- seen as nothing more than a character quirk, but around Vikings, the prophecy would be chilling. I would be avoided at all costs if one wanted to keep their sanity. 

So for the small blessing of control, I am thankful. 

There is good ale (a bit weak compared to beer, but still enough to loosen the tongue), good food (without all of the hormones and hassle of my previous home), and good company. Vikings share their stories of raids and victories- and with enough ale, their defeats. Only once do I think of Damon; of how he would love to hear these stories from living history itself- so I chug the ale in my cup and get a refill from the blushing (and very thankful) servant girl whose arse I’d saved earlier, all thoughts of my brother banished. I learn that her name is Rita, that she was captured from what is to be France, and that by giving her the distraction needed to clean up and act as if nothing had happened, I’d spared her a great deal of pain. 

An idea blossoms. I turn to Ivar who sits to my right. “My king, could I pay you for this servant girl? I wish for her to be my handmaiden.”

Ivar’s eyes barely glance over the girl. He smiles at me and waves a hand. “You are my guest, Astrid. There is no need to pay me for her; she is yours.”

I grin at him and bow my head just briefly. “I am grateful, my King.” He nods and turns back to his food and his conversation with Ubbe while I smile at the girl. 

“Well Rita, it appears you will not suffer any more punishments. From now on, you are under my protection.” 

Rita’s jaw drops. In old french, I add “as my handmaiden, you will be given a great deal of freedom- all I ask is that you do not lie to me or plot behind my back.”

“Yes, my lady!” She replies in enthusiastic french. “Thank you so much, my lady!”

“Go get yourself cleaned up-” I hand her a small coin ‘borrowed’ from a drunken Jarl encountered on the journey here. “And get some new clothes. You are a handmaiden now, it’s best you look like it.” 

She turns the coin over and over between dirty fingers, her eyes wide. Finally she nods to me and scampers off, grinning like a fool. I allow myself a victorious smile and take a sip of ale. 

Only a few minutes pass before Ivar turns to me, at Ubbe’s goading. 

“You are certainly a puzzle, Astrid.” He comments, eyeing me. “I am told you rode here on a stallion with no tack- and then carried your own bags to this hall where you proceeded to single-handedly beat three men.” He glances down at Einar who is draped over my feet, crunching away at a cow femur. “With a wolf, no less.”

“I assure you, my King, it is quite the story.”

“Ivar.” He smiles. “No need for pleasantries, you are my guest.”

Another small smile. A gracious tip of my head. “Ivar,” I correct. “If you have the time, perhaps I could tell you?”

He raises his mug, signalling a servant to serve him more ale. Once the cup is full, he sips at it, eyes never leaving me. “I have all the time in the world.” 

My brows lift. I take a swig of ale, making a show of it. He laughs. 

“It’s one of those stories, is it?”

I grin. “It all started nineteen years ago, when my mother pushed me out of her body screaming and covered in blood…

My childhood was a pleasant one, by most accounts. I had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food on the table. When I was three, my father died. As the first born, I inherited his ability to sense...things. Things that I shouldn’t have known. Things that, for a while, drove me crazy. I scared people. One man jumped off of a cliff because I told him his wife would die by his hands if he did not kill himself first. He believed me because I had been right before- another man had a baby girl- I told him that he would have an accident and kill his child, but he scoffed at me. One day he was carrying his child through the house when he tripped, sending the baby flying. She landed on her head and broke her neck, just like that. He killed himself two days later. 

We moved away. Packed up everything we had and left. My mother trained me to hold those prophecies in, to keep them from hurting anyone, so instead they hurt me. I look at someone and I know how they will die. I know the defining moments of their life and their worst mistakes. And I keep all of that bottled up inside of me. 

So I started fresh. I turned to animals instead of people. Animals do not expect things of you. They want to give and receive love, they do not judge or place blame. They do not envy or betray. If you trust them and give them reason to trust you, they will be there for you, no matter what. The best part is, I can’t see their whole life mapped out before me. I can’t know exactly what to do to change their whole path, their entire fate. It is a weight off of my shoulders. 

I helped bring Hvardr, my stallion into this world. His mother orphaned him, so I made sure he was fed. I cared for him, and when he grew, I trained him to trust me and only me. He will buck anyone else off of him. If someone tries to restrain him in any way, he will hurt them- maybe even kill them. But not me. 

Einar was barely a month old when I found him strung up in a trap. I helped him heal- and I tried to keep him wild- I really did. He’s stubborn, though, so when he chose me, there wasn’t a thing I could do to say no. Here we are eight seasons later. 

I never found love, I never had those firsts so many women have. I am not like others. I am different. And because of that difference, I see things in a totally different light. This gift is a blessing and a curse- and sometimes I wish I were normal, or that my younger brother had it, not me, but then I realize that everything I am and everything I have is because of what makes me different. 

I would not be who I am if I were the same as everyone else. 

~

Rita finds me in my room that night, shortly after the feast ended. Her hair is in a loose braid, nothing too complicated while still showing her stature. Cleaned up, I can see that she is actually quite pretty, in a youthful way. No more than fourteen or fifteen summers, if I had to guess. 

Her life flashes before my eyes in quick bursts, defining moments and tragedy lasting a brief second longer than the rest until I see her death- and I know instantly how to treat her. I smile at her, eyeing her new dress. She blushes, grinning at the floor. 

“You look beautiful,” I tell her, speaking in Old French. “Like a princess.”

“Thank you, m’lady.” She ducks her head, showing respect. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You can extinguish that torch over there, Rita. I’m quite tired from the day’s events. Oh, and I had them bring in an extra bed. I know it’s not much, but… well it’s yours.” 

Her eyes widen as she looks over at the bed. It has two furs on it for the cold night, a few feet away from my own bed. Our beds take up only about half the space in the room Ivar was kind enough to lend to me. 

“Thank you, m’lady!” She says, holding a hand to her chest as she stares at the bed. I know that it is more than she’s probably ever had- first as a frankish peasant and then as a slave, a bed to her is a luxury she’d only dreamed of. I hope she can sleep, knowing for myself the difficulty of sleeping on a bed after more than a few nights on the floor. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I tell her, moving to cover myself with a fur. “Good night, and sleep well.” Behind me, I can hear her move to the solitary torch burning against the far wall. Einar, curled against my legs, watches her carefully as she walks to her bed and gets comfortable. He is still wary of her, but is slowly warming up to the idea of another person sleeping close to him. 

tag list:  All Ivar tag: @inforapound​ @amy8220 @sallydelys​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @i-am-a-teenage-dirtbaggg​

Voluspa: @tis-itheapplepie​ @thetwistedqueen @inforapound @wuxiesalt @readsalot73​ @themusingkitten @youbloodymadgenius

#voluspa part 5 #voluspa #prophecy #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #original character #ivar #vikings #history vikings #fanfic #my work #multipart fic

[sebthesnipe]

Campfire and Mulled Sweets

First // Previously // Next

My Dearest Procyon

Masterpost

MDP Discord Server

Chapter 37

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

TW: Major Character Death, blood and cursing.

The blackness ebbed away slowly...

Patton’s brows furrowed. Why did Roman look so shocked? Patton always liked it better when he smiled. Roman had the third best smile among them. The first was Logan and then followed closely by Virgil,mainly because he didn’t show it often. Either way, Patton definitely liked Roman’s smile. 

He should definitely tell him this.

Patton opened his mouth to do just that, but the only sound that escaped him was a gurgled cough as blood ran down his chin. 

Roman’s horrified gaze lifted from the hilt of his sword.

Patton’s knees gave out.

He fell, body leaning forward. 

The hilt of the sword struck first, the polished pommel catching in the dirt, embedding the blade further inside him.

Patton’s gaze lowered to the intruding metal, a hand lifting to touch the shining material. 

Huh…

That’s right… He’d been stabbed….

He had expected it to hurt more….

………………………………………………………………………….

“NO!” Noname cried, turning to catch sight of his brother collapsing.

His gaze lifted towards the prince, the anger and pain of his loss swirling inside him. 

“What have you done?!” he demanded voice raising as his words shifted into a monstrous roar. “I’ll kill you, myself! You bastard!!!” 

Scales began protruding from Noname’s skin. The yellow of his gloves tearing away to reveal the same sickly color beneath him as Noname shifted into the oversized reptilian creature. 

Unlike his brother’s dragon form, Noname was sleek and snakelike, muscles expanding and retracting to allow him to move. His wings extended out of the middle of his back, large white feathers covering the thin membrane that Roman had seen on Patton’s. 

The dragon twisted in on himself, his movements far too quick for the prince to have time to react. The beast’s tail whipped around, smacking Roman across his midsection and sending him flying. 

The prince’s body struck one of the remaining walls, the impact causing a loud thud before he crumbled unmoving to the ground. 

“Roman!” Remus cried, already rushing to his side. 

………………………………………………………………………….

Virgil could smell the earthy scent of freshly bruised grass.

Everything hurt. 

All he wanted to do was go back to sleep. 

No. He needed to open his eyes. 

He needed to help...

Slowly, he forced open his gaze, eyes slitting just enough that he could peer through his lashes. 

Light flickered before him...

The fire must still be going... 

He could hear someone yelling? 

Noname?

Why did he sound so pained? 

Had they won?

“What have you done?!” he heard the vile man cry. “I’ll kill you, myself! You bastard!!!”

Who was he talking to? 

Did it matter?

He had to get up...

He had to help fight...

He forced his eyes open wider, groaning at the amount of energy it took. He shifted, his hands moving to brace under his shoulders before pushing and...

He collapsed once more, muscles weak and giving out.

“Roman!” Remus cried.

Virgil’s gaze shot up just in time to watch as the prince smacked against a wall, the impact hard enough to send dust raining down as he fell to the ground below. 

“Ro-” Virgil tried to call out, voice cut off by his own hacking cough. 

He had to get to him...

He had to save him...

He braced himself once more…

...he took a breath….

...then another….

He shoved against the earth beneath him, crying out in pain as he shifted into a kneel.

….another breath...

...two mor-

A pained cry!

…………………………………………………………..

Logan couldn’t move.

He couldn’t breathe.

The pain was too much.

Slowly, however, ever so slowly it began to fade. 

He didn’t hesitate to push to his feet as Patton collapsed, praying they would move faster... 

He had to get to him... 

He had to save him...

A cold feeling slipped through the bond. It was like he was slowly marching into a lake during early spring when the water hadn’t quite turned yet. 

His toes were icy, but the rest of him was still warming in the sun. 

The events unfolding around the two men were distant as Logan slid to a halt, gaze shifting frantically, hands lifted as he tried to figure out how to help. 

“There you are…” Patton breathed weakly, offering a small smile, lips painted the deepest red.

“P-patton,” Logan stuttered, trying to blink back tears as he tried to pull power from the man. “Y-you shouldn’t talk. I’m going to fix this! Everything’s going to be okay-”

The usually abundant power flickered briefly before disintegrating. 

He tried again. 

Nothing. 

Patton’s power was as unstable as he was, both quickly dying. 

The witch tried again.

“DAMNIT!” he snapped, slamming his fist against the ground painfully. 

“I’m sorry,” Patton attempted, giving another small gurgling cough. “I’m so s-sorry, Lo-lo. I-”

“Shh shh…” Logan hushed, forcing his anger away and lifting his hands to the other man’s cheeks. “It’s okay, Patton. It’s okay…” he lied, the tears starting to fall without his consent. 

Silence fell between them for a moment as Patton’s usually piercing blue gaze grew foggier.

“Hey!” Logan demanded. “Hey! Stay with me!” 

Patton gave a small wheeze the witch assumed was supposed to be a laugh. 

“Two w…” the dragon began, breath hitching for a moment. “Two weeks… Six and a half days.” 

“What?” Logan mumbled, wiping away his tears. 

“Two w-”

“Two weeks and six and half days, yes?” the witch rushed, causing the dragon to incline his head, a motion Logan assumed was a nod. “I don’t understand.”

“I… I forgot how old I was…” Patton explained, confusing the witch further.

“Patton-”

“I.. forgot… because it didn’t matter,” the dragon continued, He shifted, his gaze sluggish, palm turning outwards. Logan’s eyes followed the movement before he quickly placed his hand in the smaller man’s. 

“I still don’t understand, Patton,” Logan repeated, voice cracking. 

“Y-you…” Patton breathed, voice growing weaker. “You matter… T-two w… weeks… six-”

“-days!” Logan laughed wetly, finally realizing the significance behind the words.“Two weeks, six days, fourteen hours, and approximately fifteen minutes, judging from the position of the moon.” The witch’s tears returned as he reduced all their moments, all of their banter, all of their bickering, all of their laughter into the inadequate measurement of time. 

Patton’s smile blossomed as he stared vaguely down at their intertwined hands. 

Logan could feel him slipping. 

The cold had gone, replaced by…

nothing.

Their bond was no longer there to annoy him, to make him feel all those unwanted emotions. The only feeling he had left was the emptiness of his sudden solitude. 

It was just him again.

“Tell me…” Patton began in a hoarse whisper. “Tell me about the baby and its brother again… I-I… I can’t see it…. I can’t see the stars…” his voice began to sound panicked. “Logan… I can’t see the sky!”

“S-shh!” Logan urged, breath hitching in a small gasp as he failed to control his tears. “It’s okay… It's okay, P-Pat… I’ll be your eyes,” he reassured, his other hand dropping to sandwich Patton’s between them. He shifted to sit next to him, glancing at his face once more, and trying to imagine it how it usually was…. Always smiling…full of life… not this cold pale blankness now adorning his usually soft features.

He turned his face upwards. 

“L-Lo?” Patton asked.

“I’m still here!” Logan reassured with a sniffle. “Can you feel me? Feel our bond?”

“You… You feel…” Patton whispered. “Happy.”

A broken sob escaped the witch.

Patton couldn’t feel his depression…. That was good. 

“That’s because I am…” Logan lied. “I’m so happy I get to tell you about all my favorite things,” he reassured. 

He waited for a response, but none came. 

He could feel the numbness still there, still on the other side of their bond, but it was closing in. 

Patton was fading fast.

“T-the sky… The sky is a bit cloudy tonight,” Logan began, gaze turned upwards. “B-but if you… if you look t-toward the constellation of Canis Minor,” he managed, giving a small sniffle before continuing. 

The numbness drew closer. 

He pressed closer against his dying partner, leaning a cheek against the top of Patton’s soft pink curls. Yet another one of Logan’s mistakes. 

Patton smelled of campfire and mulled sweets, just as he had that night so long ago. 

“N-nestled next to the constellations of…” another sob escaped Logan.

The darkness was closing in on him.

 The bond was snapping.

Patton was already gone.

“Of Cancer a-and Gemini,” Logan went on, his sobs intensifying.

Death closing in on him. 

“The brighter star is Procyon A, which is a spectral class.”

He felt dizzy.

“Which means… which means it’s a … it’s a baby star…” he cried, barely managing the words. 

“T-though the human eye can not perceive it….” 

His tears stopped.

Why had they stopped?

“There is a white dwarf… just beyond Procyon A, known as Procyon B…” 

His voice was soft… 

Barely a whisper…

“A..” he fought to keep his eyes open. “A tiny b-baby friend for…” 

What had he been saying?

He collapsed against Patton’s side…

Huh…

At least it wasn't cold anymore…

Good…

He never really liked the cold…

To be continued....

Taglist:

@nightashes @hiddendreamer67 @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

#logicality #prinxiety #dukceit #sanders sides #sanderssides #ts fanfiction #ts fainfic #my dearest procyon #my writing #my writings #cat!logan #raccoon!virgil #witch!logan #wizard!logan #witch!virgil #wizard!virgil #baku!remy #dragon!deceit