#it's probably good for you as a child to be briefly hunted by a pack of coyotes

[solitarelee]

Ok now you’ve got me hooked, how in the world did you find yourself hunted by coyotes (and a bear???) when you were a kid?

Technically the bear was not hunting me and also I was an adult. If the bear had been interested in eating me I would be dead right now. The bear was minding its own goddamn business when a small yappy dog and then moments later a terrified human showed up. It was content to let the human (me) pick up the small yappy dog and back slowly away and then, presumably, it continued its bear business. its bearsiness. I have nothing but respect for that very tolerant bear who nonetheless left me with a still-lingering phobia of bears.

the COYOTES on the other hand. so to understand this you must know that I grew up in rural alabama, and i had a singular best friend, whose family was very rich and owned a mansion far FAR FAR out into the countryside where there was nothing around but other mansions that were spread extremely far apart from each other on massive lots filled with nothing. I cannot emphasize enough how much nothing there was out there. You could walk for an hour and it would still be nothing. So obviously, the wildlife outnumbered the humans by a huge margin.

This family had a tradition which I didn't think much of at the time, which was that they would go for extremely late night walks. Like, ten pm. It was a family event and they'd all grab flashlights and off we would go for a casual 30 minute stroll around the nothing. As family traditions go it was pretty good. It was so traditional that at one point, my friend and I elected to go by ourselves, just us and their extremely massive dog, Karma. (Karma was a sweetheart and, it's important to note, kind of a wuss. I think she was a mutt but I also think she had some great dane in her because she had that general huge-but-gangly vibe)

So off we went, maybe both 12 or 13 years of age, just us and a dog about the same size as us. Into the nothing, thinking nothing of it!

And then, maybe ten minutes away from the house, we began to hear the coyotes.

This in and of itself was nothing suuuuuper uncommon, you would hear them in the distance every now and then, yipping away at each other. I never thought much more of it than you would of hearing a fox scream in the night; a little unnerving but still part of the normal soundscape of the area. That, however, was when we were four people with flashlights, including two large adults, and one large dog. In this case, we were two very small children with one flashlight and one dog that I don't think was even on a leash at the time.

And the yips and barks did not stay in the distance. They started getting closer to us from behind. And then they started not just being behind us. They were still far out, far enough that we wouldn't be able to shine a light on them or pinpoint where they were, but they were not as far as one would like. And Karma was growling, which she never did. And we were suddenly aware that we were two small children in the middle of nowhere with nothing on us except one dog who was large but also had the energy of a perpetually just-divorced 42 year old man.

We had started walking back towards the mansion basically as soon as we'd heard the coyotes getting closer, neither of us being COMPLETELY brain dead, and we both had a very tense walk conversing loudly about how we were absolutely about to die, because we thought being loud might help but were realistic about our prospects.

They followed us until we were about five minutes out from the house where more buildings were, and then fucked off. We ran the rest of the way home. We did not go out at night alone for walks anymore after that.

#solitaretalk #it's probably good for you as a child to be briefly hunted by a pack of coyotes #between that and the time the cougar escaped from the local zoo and was spotted in our area i developed a very deep respect for nature #and how much it could and would absolutely kill and eat me

[mikey-philp]

I went up to the Michigan peninsula, just like you'd always wanted. The forests were quiet at that time of year - October, with the first flakes of snow due any day. Your parents' cabin was warm as I watched the squirrels line their hollows with nuts and pine for the winter. I remember the light coming off the lake at dawn and thinking of all the incredible photographs you would have taken, while I sat in silence next to you, committing it to memory.

The forest was quiet and I fucking hated it. It felt incomplete without your voice. The space gnawed at me. I hadn't realised how something so empty could feel so poisonous. So filled with pain.

You had bought me a tensegrity table for Christmas the year before and I had marvelled at its simplicity - a magic trick laid out before me that didn't feel compromised for understanding it. Two tricks in one, I said.

Six months later you were gone.

I could blame it on the cancer, but you were out long before the diagnosis. The tumour just gave you an excuse to leave early. Isn't that what you did? Get people dependent on you and then break the illusion when you get bored? How many people did you do that to? Guess you can't answer that question now. Probably lie about it even if you could. Fucking pathetic.

I'm sorry, that was probably too far. I just have a lot of energy and don't really know where to put it all.

I hiked for months down the Michigan peninsula. Fished and hunted enough to survive, tried to appreciate the gifts I'd been given. The sunsets really were spectacular, cedar and pine fresh on the nose. The bass was healthy and plentiful. You would've begged for a little bit of basil.

Spring emerged in fits and starts until it was undeniable. I threw out a lot of your parents’ furniture - "mouldy mid-century art deco" would be putting it kindly considering it was handmade (poorly). I moved my own things in and created something that worked for me. Made a study out of your old room, for instance.

I did think, briefly, that you'd be hurt by that. I know you loved that garbage, that it held nostalgic value for you. You might have even made some of it (the coffee table certainly looked like a child "crafted" it). But you're not here and your opinion doesn't matter. And sure, there's a note of bitterness in that, but it's mostly acceptance. Your voice doesn't exist anymore, anywhere.

The world is free of you.

Yeah, that was probably too far as well.

I'm home now. I sold the house and am now living a little closer to the peninsula. Work has been good, steady. I'll probably quit soon. The hum of the copier bothers me. In the back of my mind, I'm already packing my bags for next winter, excited to revisit the cabin and see what else I can do with it.

I loved you. I wish I could have loved you more, but I can't. This is probably the last letter I'll ever write to you.

[windblooms]

childe scenario – after the golden house

you, an ex-fatui executive, decide against your better judgment and tend to the wounds of the near-dead 11th harbinger following his duel at the golden house.  spoilers for the 1.1 archon quest.

gender-neutral reader.  enemies to lovers  soft spot syndrome.  sfw, but contains mentions of blood/injury.  also childe briefly in foul legacy armor.  canon-divergence.  2669 words (nice).  

with the fatui’s nails so deep into the city, staying in liyue probably wasn’t your brightest idea in retrospect.  

you blame your sentimentality of liyue on the exact same thing that caused you to leave the fatui in the first place: wanting to live without fear.  while the fatui treated you well enough, as you were considerably efficient in your ranks, being part of a partially underground, partially illegal business wasn’t exactly the most liberating practice either.  it didn’t take long for you to realize that, behind their scheming and pretenses of fair economics, the fatui would have their underlings wound so incredibly tight around their fingers that their violent tasks would rapidly become suffocating. 

that is, once you were in the fatui, getting out would be akin to scaling qingyun peak with one arm tied behind your back.

the only reason you were able to?  because you ran.  you were desperate for a new life, sure, but also you weren’t below realizing when something was out of the question.  it took a few months to shake them off your trail, having to move constantly between fontaine and mondstadt, but you finally settled in liyue.

it was a quiet, peaceful city.  the governing body was fair enough with its jurisdictions, and after a year of hiding, you were able to enjoy the lantern rite festival without fear.

that is, until the northland bank sat its obnoxious ass down the street.

archons, really, once you found a place you thought was safe enough, you’d have to start moving again.  initially, you reasoned that it had been over a year, and that the fatui surely wouldn’t go hunting for a runaway executive.  hell, you weren’t even that high on the ladder.  however, a few run-ins with scaramouche and pulcinella had left you paranoid enough that, if they spotted you, they would surely put an end to your traitorism. 

honestly, you should’ve ratted them out to the knights of favonius while you were in mondstadt.  make a quick bargain, have jean toss a few coins your way, and you would be set.  it would’ve definitely been worth the trouble, now with the knowledge that the fatui were your neighbors.  

now, there’s no time to dwell on what you could’ve done.  it’s either run again, or hold your ground right under the fatui’s nose.  you might, sort of, maybe, probably do not have the funds to move for the third time in a row, but maybe counting couldn’t hurt –

no, yeah, it hurts, you grimace as you slide the coin bag back in your bedside drawer.  outside, it’s dark, and the sky seems a bit more disturbed than usual.  it isn’t usually overcast in liyue, and the blue lightning does nothing to quell your unease.  the streets are also empty, but lights illuminate each building.

from your window, a quick glance towards the northland bank reveals to you that it is uncharacteristically dark.  no lanterns, no lights.  you frown, troubled that the individuals you were so alert to monitoring, had a lifeless stronghold.  not typical of them at all. 

so, you decide while your long-time enemies are plotting (or whatever they’re doing that prompts them to close an entire bank for), now might be the best time to potentially make a run for it, light coin bag be damned.

hastily, you rid your apartment of personal belongings by unceremoniously shoving them into your bag.  if it’s one thing you were grateful for in this world, it’s archon magic.  you don’t fuss over the science behind it, but whatever made your bag feel like a bottomless pit was an actual life-saver.  packing is extremely efficient with it, and in less than fifteen minutes, you’re ready to go.

all that’s left is to write a thank-you note to the liyuen couple who let you stay while their son was out exorcising.  at the time, they assured you that you would be no trouble for you to take up a guest room, but nonetheless you tried to pay them with whatever you had left over after commissions.

you grab a writing utensil, still feeling a bit rude to leave on such short notice, and swear to yourself that you’ll visit in the future.  for good measure (after sullenly looking into your coin bag), you leave an acceptable(-ish) amount of mora on your former bed.

all right.  now, time to leave, with your foot out the door and wind scratching at your face, as if the odd overhead weather wasn’t already an omen.

you’re barely past liyue harbor, headed towards the luhua pools, when a comet shoots above you past mount tianheng.  no, not a comet, you realize as it dips from the sky, headed for landfall around a kilometer away.  a comet of water?

if a dead northland bank wasn’t the nail in the coffin, this surely is.  you’ve been around enough in the fatui to know that whatever fell from the sky has to be the work of a vision user, or some more powerful being.  turning towards where you estimate to be the crash site, you weigh your options.  you’re already outside of the city, and the fatui are probably preoccupied.  you can manage a detour for now and inspect the hydro-apparition.  regardless, you deem that the farther away you are from the water you are, the safer you might be from what’s about to happen – you look back towards liyue harbor, and nearly shudder at the rising tide and choppy waves. 

after about fifteen minutes of walking in the rain, you find yourself between the slope of the dunyu ruins and mount tianheng.  it’s vacant, save for the weathered ruins, and a sizable crater meters wide.  cautiously, you approach the edge, summoning your sword with one hand and conjuring your vision in the other.  you’re not going to let curiosity kill the cat, especially not if this turns out to be a prank by the archons.

in the center of the mess is, well, another mess.  you blink a few times, wary, as you discern that an individual lies in the rubble.  they’re actually conscious, you soon find out, as they righten themselves from the fetal position into a kneel, supporting their body weight with their arms.  their body is covered head-to-foot in dark, purple armor, and a red mask with a broken, center orb gleams faintly in the night.

it is only when you the individual looks up at you, straight at your head, do you realize that you should not be here this was a bad idea –

and then they collapse.

“shit,” you murmur to yourself, vision still pulsing in your palm, which has become increasingly sweaty.  you step back from the edge as an orb of water surrounds the armored-being, encasing him like a cocoon, before dissipating to reveal a much more vulnerable, tired man underneath.  his hair is matted to his face from the rain, yet a much smaller mask rests on his eyes; his clothes are somewhat torn (you suspect that whatever had happened, his armor absorbed most of the damage), and you can very faintly see his chest heave. 

but, ah, speaking of his clothes,

they were the colors of the fatui.

“no, no, bad idea,” you tell yourself over and over again, sword put away yet vision still bouncing in your hands.  you walk away from the crater briefly, before walking towards it again, peaking down to check on the fallen man, and then scamper back.  the whole idea was to run away, not go straight to them, as if you had managed to doom yourself after all.  

pacing back and forth, you contemplate for another minute.  he’s clearly injured, with how he’s laying on the ground and not moving, so the nice, not-so-hardened part of you wants to help him.  if he was a regular civilian, surely you’d already be down there and trying to take him back to liyue and patch him up, but he’s with the enemy.  no way someone who can transform into armor is just an underling, so he’s probably someone exceptionally powerful –

“i see you,” a voice comes from the crater, and your vision nearly explodes in your hands from your nerves.  summoning your sword quicker than you ever have in your life, you steel yourself towards the bottom of the crater.

except, he’s not holding a weapon to your face, or threatening to skewer you into a million pieces.  except, he’s not scowling at you, or demanding you assist him at once before he blows something up.

instead, he’s on his knees.  looking up at you with the desperation of a man completely robbed, crippled from something he can’t speak of yet wants to scream about.  his eyes, now free from the mask, pierce into you with a vividness that could rival the richest hues of luhua, and archons damn it do you melt. 

you melt, and realize you should run away.  you melt, all while cursing yourself, that this man might not be so kind as to spare you in the future, when he’s back at his full health.  you melt, thinking that, well, you haven’t seen him before, so maybe he doesn’t know who you are either.  you melt, even as you extinguish your vision and put away your sword, and slide to the bottom of the crater to lug his limp body back to the top, to the shelter of the ruins, and rummage through your bag for medicine.

he hasn’t said anything for the past ten minutes, and you’re thankful that there’s finally someone from the fatui who can keep their mouth shut, even if this is half-beaten to death.  “you’re not dying on me,” you insist, as if your words could will him back to full consciousness.  “not when i’m risking my life for someone like you.”

as you work on bandaging his arm, out of the corner of your eye you swear you see his mouth twitch.  is he trying to speak?  no, you want some silence for a bit longer, but pause as you notice a gash on his torso.

“this is medically consensual, okay?”  you wait two seconds to see if he objects, before unbuttoning the lower part of his coat and applying pressure on the wound.  the blood has soaked through his clothes, and just as eagerly, seeps into the cloth you’re shoving against it.  the man stirs as you continue to clean his wounds, and when his eyes open, you’re too preoccupied with your short supply of towels to notice.

when you’re aware of a gaze on you, however, you turn towards him with a hardened face.  you already know what you’re going to say.  even if he doesn’t know who you are, you’re going to make it clear that, for your own satisfaction, you won’t help him back to liyue and he’ll have to make the walk himself.

“you were out there,” you say simply, motioning towards the crater with a nod of your head.  “i’ll patch you up, but you’ll have to get further help yourself.”

the man with eyes of the deep regards you, but you busy yourself by applying gauze.  he’s propped up against a pillar, and you’re crouching at his side.  when you’re about finished, only then do you meet his eyes.

he beats you to whatever you’re about to say.  “i didn’t think,” he starts, and you’re already frowning, “that you’d come back.”

ah, referencing when you practically left him in the crater.  his words are vague enough when he says that you ‘came back’ that you aren’t too tense, and you indulge him in a bit of silence before responding.  “not like i’m used to rescuing people who fall from the sky.”

despite his injuries, the man manages a laugh.  he seems almost flustered at your statement, although you can’t understand why.  underneath his soaked bangs, his eyebrows rise, and he seems almost . . . nervous?  you can’t possibly fathom as to why, but dismiss your curiosity.  the more small talk he coerces you into, the longer you’ll spend with him.

you finish sealing the gauze, tossing the roll back into your bag before commanding it to disappear.  blood has soaked into the ground at his sides, also you’re sure that it’ll was away with time.  you’re about to stand up, satisfied with your good-samaritan duties for the day, when he stops you by locking his fingers around your wrist.

he’s in the middle of saying something, but you refuse to let him, drawing your sword and pointing it directly at his throat, his mouth agape as he releases his hold on you.  you consider each other, and when you’re certain you have the upper hand, you draw your line.

you spit the words like venom.  “do not touch me, fatui.  i’ve done what i can for you, and you won’t be getting anything else from me.”

your blade doesn’t lower from his form, and as you stand above him, you regard his hands, as if he might summon his own weapons in an instant.  if he’s smart (which you think he is yet simultaneously pray he isn’t), he’s probably plotting how to get out of your sword’s reach.  you’re not going to let him, after you’ve been so self-sacrificing, putting your life on the line for someone affiliated with the organization that suffocated the life out of you.

a tilt of the head, yet silence from his mouth.  he seems surprised that, while you allowed him to laugh mere moments earlier, you’re now pointing your weapon at him, although something in the ease of his facial features tells you that he’s not concerned in the slightest.

“i wanted to say thank you,” he breathes finally, and you look as if he’d just punched you in the gut.  “being in your position probably isn’t easy, and i’m the last one you wanted to see, but you still . . . ”

fuck, no, not this.  you don’t know if he’s a prophet, if he knows who you really are, or the ‘i’m on the run’ stamp on your forehead is that obvious, but you aren’t going to fall for the fatui’s words.  your fists clench, and you once more prepare to denounce his organization,

and you’re disarmed in an instant, sword thrown to the side and fingers restricted by his larger grasp.  archons, you couldn’t even see him move, what a deceptive bastard, feigning injury –

“stop,” he hushes, and despite your fury you register it as a plea, not a command.  the man repeats himself, before continuing,  “we won’t haunt you any more; i’ll make sure of it.”

five seconds, then ten.  you had determined that his grip was too strong to break free of, and are left in no position to move unless he releases you.  he holds your gaze without a hint of malice, even though you try your hardest to find any in his eyes.  

when he does let go of you, fingers skimming past your flesh, you run faster than you ever have before.

you run, past the ruins, past the harbor, and until you can’t see liyue behind you any more.  you run, unable to see a palace fall from the sky and crash into the ocean, and until you’re surrounded by mountains and there’s not a ginkgo tree in sight.  you run, unsure if his words are true, but certain that he knows who you are.

you won’t trust him.  as you lay on the ground, wheezing to catch the air that’s left your lungs, you once again swear to yourself that you can’t trust the words of the fatui.  

as the northland bank lights ignite themselves in welcome of its master, childe presses a hand to his bandaged torso.  a spark of your vision lingers between his fingers, and he observes it before it disappears.

he’s already hurt enough people.  he heads to the second floor, and erases your name from the fatui files. 

#genshin impact #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe scenarios #childe headcanons #hurt comfort #angst #enemies to lovers #childe stans are feral #but im friends with so many of them :^)

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 10 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

To Sakura, world still revolved normally; nothing changed between them, nothing mattered enough for her to behave differently. To Sasuke, the world shifted in its axis, having revealed a glimpse of his true feelings to her however falsely convenient she deemed them to be; everything changed between them, everything mattered enough for him to behave differently.

Like flinching at her slight grazes on his skin or his ears picking up her voice in the middle of the crowd noises or his eyes following the trail of her rose hair tied up in a ponytail, bewitched by the sway of the strands as she tousled to get to the front of the fray, her fingers burning a hole through his sleeve.

“HOMERUN!” The announcer screamed through the microphone, the feedback running through ripples in the throng of people. “Uzumaki Naruto nails a clutch win in the last inning for his team in their first ever nationals!”

Screams erupted around them, and as others jumped and cursed and hugged each other, she stood there frozen in time, her hands on her mouth. “He won. He won, Sasuke.” Her voice quivered, and he knew then that she was crying.

“Yeah, the blonde idiot won.” He allowed himself to smile, picking the blonde among the ruckus that enfolded below.

An hour and lesser filled stadium after, the two went down to congratulate their friend with open arms despite the sweat and the grit. Sasuke went with the flow, jumping up and down and circling about in the middle of the pitcher’s mound. They broke away from each other’s hold after several minutes, breathless in the undertaking, and flushed with all the gleeful screaming.

Two firm pats on Naruto’s back and a ruffle on his porcupine hair. “You did well, idiot.”

“Ah I earned a compliment from grumpy. This truly is the best day of my life!” His teammates broke in laughter in the background.

“I’m so proud of you. I’m so glad we took the bullet train to watch your game,” Sakura said through tears. Perhaps it was the height of the celebration or the ride of her emotions; she reached for Naruto’s face and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Sasuke turned away just in time, thankful for the screams, hoots, and whistles that possessed the student body. In his aversion, he also saw another face who kept looking anywhere but at the two. Hyuga Hinata, his ironic comrade in heartbreak.

Haru was in the group of spectators earlier, a pseudo-coach and mood-raiser for the team, his undercut prominent against his cap. Sasuke guessed him and Hinata were civil enough to be enclosed in a common space. He walked towards her, hands in his pockets.

“I’m gonna confess to him in the cultural festival,” she told him before he could reach her side.

He leaned against the bleachers, shutting out the continuing noises from the student body. In the midst of it, he can hear Sakura scolding all of them for misunderstanding. “And you’re gonna get rejected.”

“At least I told him what I felt,” she replied. “Did you already?”

He shrugged, unsure himself whether he got the point across or not.

“You better make it clear. You berated me for giving mixed signals after all.”

“You don’t hold your punches, Ms. Hyuga.” Sasuke sighed. “I think she rejected me already.”

Hinata let out a small laugh, the first in his vicinity. “Well, I’m just giving back your advice. If you think it so, you should ask again.”

“A second heartbreak won’t do me good.”

“The future has a lot in store.” She finally landed her gaze on Naruto and Sakura who separated now and were engaged by Haru in some funny exchange. “Good luck to us, Uchiha. I’ll take my leave.”

Sasuke detached himself from the bleachers. “Without saying congratulations?”

But Hinata continued on her exit without giving him a reply. To his surprise, it was not only him who caught her leaving; a pair of blue eyes also followed after her, mouth agape, hesitant to call her name not when he was in the presence of her ex-boyfriend and ex-captain. Ah, we’re all stuck in this complex hell, aren’t we?

His phone vibrated against his pocket. On normal days, he would ignore the call, but today wasn’t normal and he had to act nice for the favor he asked.

“Did your best friend win?” Itachi’s voice greeted him.

Sasuke didn’t correct him on the terminology. He just grunted a small yes, and somehow, he can hear his brother smiling on the other end of the call.

“Glad my donation helped fund their team’s expenses. I take it you also spent some for the bullet train?”

Again, another small yes.

“That’s nice.” It was the first time he heard Itachi chuckle again after the accident. “I’m glad you have friends.”

They’re not my friends fell silent on Sasuke’s lips. All he wanted was to consistently rank first, have uninteresting interactions…but all of those foiled because of the two. “Yeah, something like that.”

He heard the beeping pager in the background. “Gotta run, little brother. See you.”

Little brother. Sasuke swallowed back an unfamiliar sound.

It was a sob.

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

Sakura tried to look at anything but him – the titles of books on his shelves behind, the heads of other faculty members bobbing, the ticking of the second hand on the wall clock. Kakashi clucked upon seeing her career sheet.

“Haruno, you’ll be graduating salutatorian, just points away from Uchiha Sasuke and yet you haven’t listed a university or a job listing. It’s referral season, and you’ve done a lot of good in this school.” Kakashi held his eyes steady on her, a firm line on his lips. “Don’t you want help?”

She mustered a smile, if that was what they call it nowadays, and handed him a filled out form. Whether he could see that it was written with wavering hands, she’d never know. “I settled on fashion design. I’ve always wanted to be a seamstress myself.”

That was a lie, and she knew Kakashi knew judging by how the firm line stayed. He briefly nodded and let her go.

Sensing the bubbling anxiety, she traversed the noisy hallways and almost sprinted to what has also become her safe space – the hidden spot of the boys behind the library. It wasn’t lunch time yet so Sasuke and Naruto wouldn’t be here. She slumped against the wall, sobs racking throughout her body.

Aimless was what she would describe her direction, untethered her depth, and a black hole her emotions.

“I wish you would let me help you.” Kakashi’s voice made her jump. She scanned her surroundings but cannot find a telling strand of silver in the hedges. He was probably standing on the entrance, just before the canopy of vines. “I didn’t follow you. I just knew the three of you went here for lunch and after-school chats. I’m a faculty, Sakura.”

“Please go away.” She never heard her voice sounded so small…and vulnerable.

“Sometimes, talking it out would make the burden feel lighter.”

She didn’t respond, and he didn’t wait for it. His audible footsteps were an indication he was moving away so she took the bait. If this was one way to be near him, why couldn’t it be in the guise of her pain?

She emerged in the hedges, eyes bloodshot red and strained, only to find him leaning against the wall, waiting with a handkerchief for her.

In an ironic turn of events, he brought her to the program she initiated. When he turned to leave to give her the privacy she needed, she asked him to stay. And that simple silent gesture gave her the courage to face her reality.

That her parents were divorcing, and in a futile attempt to cope, she made herself scarce, almost invisible.

Perhaps she was too much work for a middle-class couple with a lot of bills and unemployed siblings to feed. Maybe if they didn’t have a child that hindered their defining career opportunities to relocate or get promoted to an overseas position. Her outstanding community work and numerous distinction medals just weren’t strong enough to warrant a reconsideration of their decision.

And maybe it was a wrong move to get a part time job and dissociate from the pink-haired, studious Sakura and be the adult black-haired, funky cashier Sakura because it only gave them the idea she can live just fine on her own without any of them worrying about her instead of seeing the whole thing as a call for help.

“If you’re ready, you should share your problem to the two,” her sensei said when they finished with her therapy consultation.

“They have heavier baggage,” she simply replied.

“They’re not comparable. Naruto has an empty baggage, a kid with no past, yet he drags it around. Sasuke has sand for load, it’s leaking at the seams but he refills it. And for you, it could be air or water. It’s because you’re compressing them all inside that they become heavier.” He laid a hand on her head, an action of a sensei to a student. “Thanks for sharing some of those with me, Sakura.”

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

Cultural festival was an amalgamation of confessions, last clinchers, and stolen moments. Whoever snatched a dance with someone they liked would be blessed with good relationship – that was how the saying went among the ranks of students.

It was the reason why Sasuke and Naruto hid throughout the day in their spot, content to eat instant ramen, batches of onigiri, and packs of orange and tomato juices. Throngs of freshmen and second years were on the hunt for their feet as dance partner.

“If only they knew I have two left feet,” Naruto grumbled. “I can’t even enjoy the day with Sakura. It’s pathetic to think I’m stuck with you.”

“I second,” Sasuke said. “Do you think she’ll confess to Kakashi later?”

“She hasn’t made a move yet?”

Sasuke shook his head.

“Wait what do you mean you second?”

Minutes of silence ensued. Sasuke put a whole onigiri in his mouth, too flustered to say it right at his face. “I like Sakura.” The words were jumbled with his chewing, and he was sure Naruto didn’t catch it.

But the idiot grinned and laughed maniacally. “The great pretender finally admits! When did you realize it? Did you have the fireworks in your head too?” He even mimicked a rainbow with his hands.

“That’s a rainbow, you idiot.” Sasuke scratched the back of his head. “When she was busy looking at Kakashi playing the piano.”

“Ah, will we ever have the chance?” Naruto snickered. “Let’s confess tonight, grumpy.”

“Already thought of that and already prepared for it.” Despite the seemingly downfall trajectory of their common affections, Sasuke still managed a smirk.

Not to be one-upped, Naruto pulled out his phone and flashed a small bouquet of dahlias. “Ready to be picked up tonight.”

A Greek tragedy, that was them; two best friends falling in love with and being rejected by the same girl.

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

Majority of the school population have gathered around the giant bonfire on the campus grounds, but Sakura knew Kakashi would be stuck in his cubicle in the faculty lounge, nose-deep in a novel, headphones in to drown out the noise, and feet propped up on his desk.

Tonight was the night she would bare her other truth naked to him.

But before she could even step foot in his space, she already heard the voice of his favorite book drifting across the nooks and partitions.

“You should be with your students.” Giggling and a sound she would only assume was a string of kisses.

“I don’t have much time with you. Let me be greedy just this time.” Hearing her sensei say that painted him in another light. So there was this very attached Kakashi, far from the laidback and chill professor she knew.

Sakura should turn her heels and join the rest of the student body. She should act like a good student model, ignore her teacher’s affairs, and pretend she was never here. Except she tripped while running, and that summoned the two of them to her aid.

“Sakura? Did you need something?”

She side-eyed Rin Nohara and shook her head, her one only good chance blown to bits by her own recklessness and stupidity. She muttered an apology and starts to walk away with limping feet when Rin stopped her.

“I’ll get a drink in the vending machine. I’ll be back in five minutes Kashi.”

Thank God for women intuition, Sakura thought.

But inevitably she was left alone in the corridor with her heartbeat far stronger than the noise of the band outside around the campfire and the unknowing subject of her admiration. She held tightly to his rubber tie around her wrist, the mark etched deeper by each day she leaves it there mangled with her pulse.

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, a smile etched on his face, the soft moonlight falling on his features only to highlight his beauty mark. It was unfair seeing him like this only to have him break her heart.

She knew she didn’t stand a chance, but even then, she had to hear it clear and loud.

“I like you.”

Were three words ever enough to encapsulate the three years of affection she held for him? One word for each year she felt content with glimpses of him, may they only be passing shadows in the halls, an echoing voice in the adjacent room, the silent arbiter in council meetings or a silver strand she could easily pick out in a sea of black of white.

Kakashi looked at her, his smile still etched, his face still immaculate. “That wasn’t a question.”

“And that wasn’t a reply.” It was nature to look away when one was too scared to face truth, but for the many times he helped her, even without him fully realizing the extent, she owed it to him to be brave.

“But you already know the words.” A head pat, the same gesture that gave her comfort in the past was the same gesture that broke her heart just now. How easy it was for the breaker to give and take minute and mindless affections, but what right did she has to think they were special to begin with?

It was the end of an illusory conception.

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

A bouquet of dahlias and a bouquet of daffodils were hidden behind Naruto and Sasuke. It was dark, already past seven, the bonfire in its final vestiges, its sputtering flames waiting for last-minute lovers to dance in their splendid light.

Within the shadows came the girl of their dreams, hair untangled and morose emerald irises dipped in pools. Sasuke first noticed the bare wrist, the rubber tie gone, and he knew then that she confessed, and she was heartbroken.

He didn’t need to say anything to the blonde beside him. Her stance was enough to convey her present state of being. What she needed right now were her friends, not aspiring lovers stupid enough to break the friendship label.

And so they hid the bouquets on their backs, safe in the clutches of the dark, and when she reached out to them, their free hands already grasped her trembling fingers in waiting.

There they were, three broken-hearted people, wallowing in their own respective pain, sitting on the dewy grass that would leave stains on their clothes the next morning. When the school band started the last song, Sasuke stood up, abandoning his bouquet on the side, and pulled the other two up.

“Would be a shame to end our last cultural festival like this.”

Ten steps later, they were in the middle of the crowd of couples, three awkward friends holding each other’s hands and stepping on each other’s foot.

“For the love of God, you really can’t dance Naruto. Can’t you do a simple turn to the right?” Sasuke complained.

“Why are you putting all the blame on me? You’re the one who can’t differentiate the right from left!” Naruto spat back.

She laughed, and it somehow stopped their bickering for a moment. Bent at her stomach and eyes clinched shut in crinkles, that was their Sakura.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 11

#SCPS #student council president sakura #sasusaku #narusaku #kakasaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #this did not feel heavy as i thought while planning it #is it a good or a bad thing? hehe #anime fanfic #fanfic #fic!pinkhairedlily #fic!pseudolily

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester: Embrace (Request)

*Not my gif*

Paring: Dean X Reader 

Pov: Reader 

Warnings: comfort from dean, hunt gone wrong, reader crying, LOTS OF HUGS, mentions of Sam (Briefly) 

Summary: The reader come back from a hunt gone very wrong, and all she want is to be in Dean’s arms tonight. Once she makes it to the bunker, she falls into dean’s arms, not being able to keep it together anymore. 

Word Count: 2k 

Masterlist 

Tag list: @akshi8278​, @deanswaywardgirl​

This was supposed to be an easy hunt. One and done type of thing, but that ended shortly after I got to the motel. Dean and Sam already out on a hunt, I decide that it wouldn’t hurt anyone if I went out on my own.  

Shooting Dean, a quick message. “Dean, there’s a hunt about an hour away from the bunker. It involves kids, so I’m packed up and leaving in 5. Love Ya.” I sent the message stuffing my phone in my back pocket.  

Buzzing I pulled it out seeing a message from Dean “Ugh, I wish you weren’t going by yourself, but I understand it involves kids. Be safe and text me when you get to the motel. Love Ya sweetheart.” Well, that had gone by much easier than previously thought.  

So, throwing my bag in the passenger seat of on the many cars I drove off to the motel. According to the article children were going missing in the local town. The thought of so many parents being scared and missing their children was eating at me, so I thought I’d at least try to help.  

Quickly I learned that kids were disappearing, most disappeared near an old shut down mental asylum. Something about kids and wanting to search places that clearly had “DO NOT ENTER” signs on them.  

It was still early in the afternoon so I made my way over to the parents of the latest missing child. They wore worried expression on their faces as they say the quick flip of the F.B.I badge.  

In short, they had said that their son had gone out with a few of his friends. Riding bikes and being a destructive teenage boy. For a few moments the image of Dean being that way crossed my mind, internal smiling at the thought.

I had figured that it was probably a ghost based on the rather odd story the parents retold me. Saying that their son had told them about how the light were flickering and, all the sudden it was really cold in the asylum. It’s the middle of summer, so cold spots are definitely more prominent.  

When I made it back to the motel, I made quick work of trying to figure out where the old mental asylum was, grabbing way to cups of coffee, and junk food from the vending machines I worked until at least twelve in the morning.  

I hadn’t ever realized how much the Sam and Dean’s help was. It was nice to have a tech nerd at your disposal, and a heater next to you in bed every night. Once I had fallen asleep at the dirty small kitchen table in the motel, I thought it best to move to the bed and text Dean.  

“Hey baby, I made to the motel a while ago. You know me got caught up in trying to help. Fell asleep trying to research going to sleep now. Good night baby, Love Ya.” I sent before plugging it in to its charger and falling into a deep sleep.  

When I awake the next morning, I looked over to my phone seeing a new message from Dean. “Sleep well sweetheart. We will be home today, keep me in the loop. Can’t wait to see you.” He messaged with a winky face at the end.  

Rolling my eyes, I got out of the crappy, not memory foam bed. Hearing the slightly creaks and cracks of my bones. Thinking that it would probably useless if i grabbed a shower before going on a hunt, so I opted to grab one of deans stolen flannels, my pants, and my boots.  

Once I was officially ready for the day, I went right back into researching. Finally, hours later I had found an old document that just so happened to have to the address of the mental asylum.  

It was a picture of a few nurses, a doctor standing proud in the back, and a gaggle of children in front of the nurses. Around the doctors' neck hung a stethoscope. It read at the bottom of the picture  

‘Doctor Ethan Zingler, Nurse Betty, Nurse Lewis, Nurse Andrea, with the many mentally insane children. Doctor Zingler holding his prized possession his stethoscope.’ “Fuck yes” I screamed. Damn that was dumb luck.  

Quickly grabbing the car keys, I slammed the motel door, making my way over to the car. Again, I shot him another text, “Alright, found the address for this place. Should be an easy fix. Be home soon, Love Ya.” Sending it before starting to pull out of the parking lot.  

When I made it to the mental asylum, the gates lock was broken making it much easier for me. Making my way into the mental asylum it was quiet, giving me an uneasy feeling. A scream grabbing my attention, but when I made it their nothing, nothing was there.  

As I walked around more, trying to find these lost kids. Turning around at one point, I saw a figure of a decomposed older women. Her white nurses outfit torn at her heart, all the sudden instead of staring at me she was full speed running.  

Cutting into one room I lost her, standing there for a minute. Re thinking everything that I looked up, and the parents had told me. It clicked it was ghosts, they were ghouls. This means that everything I had on me wasn’t going to work.  

Hearing the should of many children screaming at once, I ran towards it. I saw the Doctor his stethoscope wrapped around the necks of one of the children, I ran in trying to get a shot in, but before I could I had they two other nurses hold me down, one trying to stick me with a needle. The other had her very decade hand around my neck.  

I watched every single missing child be killed in front of my eyes, once the doctor was done, he turned looking at the two nurses. They let me go and he slow staked over to me, his hand covering my mouth. I reached down in a quick and swift motion grabbing a long machete knife I had attached to the loops of my pants. In two swift movements I sliced the heads of the nurses off. Looking over at the once respected doctor I chopped his head, it landing on the ground.  

Swiping the blade over my thigh, I slipped it back into its case. I walked out of the asylum flipping it the finger. Getting into the car, it was starting to hit me, that I had watched at least 3 kids murdered in front of me. I was here to fix this, to bring them home safely.  

I drove, no music, no running thoughts in my mind. I just drove, when I finally made it back to the motel, I grabbed a quick shower, trying to wipe away the images of them dying, trying not to cry. “Y/n you’re a big girl. You’re a hunter, fuck you’re with a Winchester get it together.”  I said to myself.  

“Hey baby, how is everything? I haven't heard anything in a while. Sam says that I should stop worrying, but you’re my girl. Text me back please.” Dean messaged me.  

Climbing out of the bathroom, I grabbed my phone, my arms barely keeping the towel wrapped around my chest. “Everything is fine. I’m okay honey. I will be home tops 2 hours, Love Ya.” I sent him back.  

If I broke down now, here, I’d never be able to leave. I need to get dress, I need to get home, I need Dean, now. Wrapping another stolen Dean flannel around me, I could just barely smell his leather, and whiskey cologne on his shirt, I pulled up my sweats.  

Grabbing the rest of my stuff, and throw it into the passenger seat. I walked down to the front desk; I gave to women her keys back. Starting the engine to the car this time I turned the radio on, finding a station that reminded me of Dean. “80′s rock coming your way. Now playing ‘AC/DC Back in black” Taking a deep inhale I back out and drove down the street, radio blasting and windows down.  

“Can’t wait to see you sweetheart!” Dean sent a message as I inched closer and closer to the bunker. Finally, I slowed down and drove down the darkly lite drive way that led to the bunkers garage. As I inched closer, I started to break down, I didn’t want to be a disappointment. I didn’t want Dean, or Sam to see me as a failure.  

I could feel the prickle of tears wanting to escape from my eyes, but shook my head and pushed them back in. As I parked the car, I only grabbed my phone, not really in the mood to look or see anything hunting wise.  

Slowly I made my way to the garage door. Stopping as my hand made contact with the cold handle. I reached for a deep breathe, and opened the door. Conversation still going on, I walked past the library hearing both Sam and Dean call my name.

But the idea of facing them, after everything was too much. I heard the scratch of the wooden chair against the floor. I walked into Deans and I shared room, plopping onto the memory foam bed.  

I heard the bedroom door, slowly open “Y/n?” Dean’s voice bounced off the cinder block room. “Y/n? Are you okay?” He said shutting our bedroom door. “Y/n? Are you hurt? If you’re hurt, I can fix you up, but... but you’ve got to tell me.” He said coming closer to me.  

My breathing becoming harder for me to control. Deans hand landing on my hips first. “Y/n please look at me. You’re scaring me.” I couldn’t take it anymore, I moved quickly making Dean lose a bit of balance before his hand wrapped around my mid-section.  

A breath that I didn’t realize I was holding came out, “It’s okay, you can just cry. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Dean said rubbing circles into my back. “You’ve got me Y/n. You just tell me what happened okay, let me known that us Winchester deal making didn’t rub off on you.” He said a little chuckle at the end.  

“De... Dean I’m so stupid. I let 5 kids die because I di... didn’t know what I was hunting. I watched the gho..uls kill them. De... Dean Please just hold me. Please don’t thi.. think of me any different.” I said, a few hiccups interrupting me from finishing my sentences.  

I felt Dean take a deep inhale, before speaking, “Damn, Y/n why.. You know what you’re so resilient, so brave, you’re no where to being stupid. Me and Sam got the covered for you. It’s okay, I’m so fucking sorry that I wasn’t with you, I’m sorry, but I’m tell you’  

He said pulling me away from his shoulder. Lightly touching my chin, bring my attention to him. Our eye making contact. ‘Y/n I’m telling you that you couldn’t have done anything more then you did. You’re an amazing hunter, an amazing person, you’re prefect Y/n. I don’t to ever hear you say that you’re stupid, or that you think me or Sam will think of you differently because we just won’t. I love you baby” Dean said.  

I reached up to kiss lips, a small, sparked filled kissed. It was as if that kiss was an okay for me. The okay that Dean was being true with me. “Dean, can.. can we just lay together please? I don’t want to let you go just yet” I asked.  

He gave me short smile, and shook his head ‘yes’. “I love you, sweetheart. Get some rest.” He said kissing my temple, “Love Ya too De.”  I said before the tiredness of crying and the beat of Dean’s heart lulled me into a deep and warm sleep.

Completed 02/27/2021 

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfic #dean fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #dean x female!reader #deangirl #request

[sinfulshelbys]

Baby, Baby | Shelby! Reader

Bonnie Gold x Shelby! sister reader

Warnings: a whole lot of tooth-rotting fluff

Request: accidentally pregnancy w/ Bonnie (part of a big request)

word count: k

Chubby little legs clumsily chase after the pretty white butterfly that was hovering over the row of flowering roses – grubby hands covered in grass reaching towards it. 

Bonnie trailed behind, only needing one step to keep up with his little sister, Florence. You watched from the steps of the vardo with a gentle smile, wrapping your brown coat tighter to your body as the crisp morning air pricked sharply at your skin. 

Your smile grew as Bonnie made his way to you, leaving his little sister to chasing the butterfly that seemed to hang in one spot before flying a few paces when she tried to grab it. 

“G’morning, dove,” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before pulling you into his arms – his voice was always deeper in the morning, causing your heart to do backflips.  

“Morning Bon,” you sighed, letting his body encase you. 

You had been staying with Bonnie and his family at the camp just outside of town for the last month after telling your family of your relationship – only going back into town when Bonnie had a boxing match or Tommy required you for a meeting; and you loved it. 

Polly had always said you had a wild spirit that could only be set free by being outdoors – living like your traveller relatives and she couldn’t have been more correct. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and falling asleep to the sound of fire crackling outside the vardo you shared with Bonnie was something that you could do forever – his family adoring you being an added bonus. 

“You feeling alright?” He mumbled into your hair – mentioning your sickness earlier in the morning, before brushing a few locks behind your ears.

Smiling, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, whispering a, “I’m doing okay now,” which seemed to ease his worry.

“Flo, don’t pick the flowers!” Bonnie yelled towards his five-year-old sister, her giggles making you and Bonnie share laugh. 

“I’m not, Bon!” She called back, her voice as soft and sweet as honey. 

Giving you another kiss on your cheek, Bonnie raised to his feet again before running towards his sister, her small squeals echoing throughout the field as she tried to run away from him – small pigtails of curly brown hair bouncing with every step she took. 

You watched with fondness as Bonnie picked Florence up, swinging her around in circles. Both of their faces were covered with a pretty smile before Theodosia, Bonnie’s second youngest sister, jumped onto his back making them all fall down in a heap of hysterics.

“A lot of trouble aren’t they?” A voice beside you piped up causing you to jump slightly, head turning to see Aberama looking at you with an amused grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” you brushed him off, moving aside so he could take a seat on the steps beside you.

“Could hear their laughter halfway into the forest while I was hunting,” he nodded, watching his children wrestle each other – while his eldest daughter, Esmerelda scolded them all. You turned your attention back to the Gold siblings, briefly chuckling. 

“It’s a nice sound to wake up to.” 

“I agree with you there, child,” Aberama agreed with a hum, before nodding towards his son who was carrying both his siblings under his arms. “He’s going to make a good father one day. Better than me.”

“You’re a better father than mine ever was, Mr. Gold. You’ve done good, you should be proud of yourself - raising your kids alone.” you lowly spoke, sincerity laced through your words.

“I’m glad Bonnie found you and for the last time you can call me Aberama.”

With a pat to your shoulder, Aberama left you watching Bonnie lift Florence onto his shoulders – your palm moving to rest on your stomach. Aberama’s words left echoing in your mind.

 He’s going to make a good father one day – maybe sooner than he thought. 

~~~~~~~~

Your right leg rapidly bounced up and down as your left hand was squeezing your aunt Polly’s so tight you were probably cutting off the blood supply to her fingers.

“It’s going to be alright,” your aunt muttered, pressing her hand down on your knee to stop it from bouncing. “Stop stressing so much.”

“What am I going to do if I am, Pol? Tommy is going to be so mad at me,” resting your head on your aunts shoulder, she ran a comforting hand up and down your arm. 

“If you are, you’re going to go straight to that boy of yours and tell him. Don’t worry about fucking Tommy or your other brothers. Once you know how Bonnie feels, then you make a decision; together.”

This is why I love you, you wanted to tell her, instead you only loosened your grip on her hand.

It was only an hour ago that you arrived in Small Heath with Aberama who was visiting your brothers. You went straight to your aunt, who was waiting for you at the front door to the house on Watery Lane with wide arms. Your hands shook as you told her what you suspected, watching as she calmly placed a cup of tea in-front of you.

“I think I’m pregnant,” you didn’t dare meet your aunts eyes as you said the words, taking a sip of your warm tea. Polly was silent for a moment, taking her sweet time to light a cigarette and take a drag – before looking towards you. “Bonnie and I are careful. I don’t know how it could’ve happened I-”

“I know. I had a dream last night,” she cut you off, words picked with precision that only Polly Gray could master. “Two horses. One grown, the other a foal – had the same one when your mother was pregnant with you. We’ll go see the woman down at Cardiff to make sure once you finish your tea.”

So here you were sitting on the bed, waiting for the woman that your family had been going to for years to confirm if you were or were not pregnant. 

“So?” You urged her on once she had finished packing her tools and began pulling her red hair out of its pins. “Am I?”

Wiping her hands on her apron, the woman took the envelope of money from beside you – peering inside before nodding towards you. Tears began to form in along your lash-line at her confirmation, before you requested for her to leave you for a moment to compose yourself.

Pregnant. You were pregnant.

~~~~~~~~

The breaks of the car squeaked as it came to a stop just outside of camp, your ears immediately being filled with the sounds of laughter and cheering. 

Aberama had invited your family to celebrate with them over the recent deal made between himself and Tommy earlier that day – Polly having a driver take you both once you had finished up in Cardiff. Before you could exit the vehicle, Polly stopped you, giving you a stern look.

“I’ll tell him tonight Pol,” you assured her, taking the hand that the driver had offered as you stepped out of the Bentley, heading straight for the camp. 

Standing around the fire were your brothers, Aberama and Johnny Dogs cooking a deer – while everyone drunk and laughed to whatever story Arthur was telling.

Immediately noticing you, Finn passed his drink to Thea who was standing next to him and Michael and ran towards you – encasing you in a tight hug while mumbling an ‘I missed you,’ into the crook of your neck.

“I missed you too, Finn,” you chuckled, taking off his Peaky hat as you pulled apart to ruffle his hair. 

After greeting everyone in your family, you finally made your way over to Bonnie who was watching you with love filled eyes, his father nudging his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

“Get a room!” Arthur called towards you, causing you to pull away from Bonnie to flip him off.

The atmosphere immediately fell back into a familiar rhythm as Bonnie sat down on a log, you sitting between his legs on the ground – his hands reaching over your shoulders to hold yours. 

You watched as both your families interacted; Florence and your nephew Charlie were picking grass and throwing it at each other,  Finn, Michael and Thea seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion, while the older siblings drank and sung songs they heard at the Garrison.

It was a perfect atmosphere, one you could find yourself getting used to – and you fell in love with every second of it. 

“What’s on your mind?” Bonnie leaned down to whisper to you, playfully bitting your earlobe. 

“Just how perfect this moment is,” you whispered back, tilting your head to kiss his cheek. You took a moment to take the man you love in, from the way the flames from the fire danced upon every square inch of his skin – lighting it up in ways that the sun never could, to the feeling of his heartbeat racing against your palm – perfect and all yours. 

Turning in Bonnie’s arms, you raised yourself to your feet, holding your hand out for him to take – which he did without question, as you pulled him up.

“I have something to tell you,” you gestured towards your shared vardo, beginning to pull him away from the fire. “But not here.”

A boyish grin formed on Bonnie’s face as he followed behind you, hand clasped in yours as you walked up the vardo steps, inside. Shutting the door behind you, you nervously began picking at your coat, before Bonnie lifted your head with his fingers under your chin. 

“What’s bothering you, little dove?” He frowned, voice filled with concern. Taking a deep breath, you grounded yourself by gripping the lapels of Bonnie’s grey coat.

“I found out something today,” you started, focusing on straightening Bonnie’s tie. “I’m pregnant, Bonnie.”

You waited for the words to settle in, too scared to look at your boyfriends reaction to the news. Instead you felt yourself being lifted up and swung in a circle.

“You’re serious?” Bonnie beamed, cupping your face in-between his hands. “We’re having a baby?” 

It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders when Bonnie expressed his excitement, your features lighting up. “I’m serious, Bonnie. We’re having a baby.”

Pulling you back into his arms, Bonnie began rocking you both back and forth while muttering about how he was going to be a father – the overwhelming feeling of support causing you to tear up. 

“Oh!” Bonnie pulled away slightly, his hands shoving into all his pockets as you watched his actions curiously before he pulled out a small piece of jewellery. A ring. “I was going to propose tonight, ask you to be my wife. I kept chickening out, but now there’s no reason to. So, Y/N Shelby, will you marry me?”

Bursting into tears, you rapidly nodded as he pushed the ring onto your finger before you jumped into his arms. Bonnies hands gripped your thighs as you wrapped them around his waist – both of you joyously laughing. 

Pressing your forehead against his, you pulled Bonnie’s face to yours as he walked you both towards your bed, both of you falling flat against it and all you could think was that this was it for you, nothing would ever be this perfect.

“We’re getting married and starting a family,” Bonnie whispered, pressing kisses all over your face – causing your pretty features to scrunch up. 

“I don’t want to burst our bubble,” you trailed off, brushing away his stray curls. “But we should probably go tell my family.”

#bonnie gold #bonnie #gold #bonnie gold x reader #bonnie gold x you #bonnie gold x y/n #bonnie gold x shelby! reader #bonnie gold x shelby sister #bonnie gold x shelby! sister #bonnie gold x shelby sis #bonnie gold imagine #bonnie gold imagines #bonnie gold headcanon #bonnie gold head canon #bonnie gold one shot #bonnie gold oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky #blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders head canon #peaky blinders headcanon #oneshot #one shot #imagine #imagines

[smolanon]

Childish (c!Schlatt x Reader)

Hello everyone! I have officially returned from my hiatus! Sorry I was gone for so long, but I think I'm feeling much better now. I wrote this as sort of a lighthearted return to writing. I have quite a few fics in the works right now, so let me know if you wanna W.I.P list! I'm trying out scheduling this fic so yeah, let's hope that goes alright!

This fic was inspired by this headcanon on @boobberries blog, sent in by @paintpaletteanon! Thank you so much to the both of them for allowing me to use it in this fic. :) I take it as a gift of peace for starting an angsty Schlatt movement on Roni's blog!

Type: humor, fluff

Word count: 1,257 words

Most of the time, you were a pretty tame person. Between George's oversleeping, Quackity's over-the-top energy, and Schlatt's unprofessionalism, somebody had to play the straight man or else Manburg's entire cabinet would fall apart. Everyone was quite used to your more mild nature; it went so far as to leak into your person life with Schlatt at times. Which is why your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend was caught so off guard by you acting like such a little shit.

It was an average day when it happened for the first time. Schlatt was reading through some papers with a pensive look on his face and you came up behind him, lightly touching his arm and opening your mouth to ask if everything was alright. However, before a single sound could leave your lips, Schlatt was jumping and letting out a surprised bleat. When you say jump, you mean leapt. It was a good thing you were outside at the time because he reached a height you had no clue anyone could reach.

When he spun around to face you, starting to chew you out for sneaking up on him, you couldn't help but let out an incredulous laugh.

"How did you jump so high?" You said between fits of giggles. His cheeks flushed and he glared daggers into your soul.

"I'm a goat hybrid, dumbass. Don't do that again."

Now, normally you would listen to that prompting, especially at work, and the scenario would be packed away into his mind as an embarrassing, yet fond memory. So he was absolutely flabbergasted when he rounded a corner to head into the Whitehouse and was greeted with-

"Boo!" You cackled as he jumped once more. He swore at your hunched over form, smacking you upside the head with some rolled up papers.

"Why the hell did you do that?!" He placed a hand over his pounding heart, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

"I'm s-" You cut yourself off with a wheeze, "I'm sorry! It's just s-so hilarious!" You descended into another fit of laughter. He rolled his eyes at you fondly, trying to hide his smile from you.

The next few weeks were absolute torture. He could not turn a corner, leave his back to you, or hand you any loud items because a good 80% of the time, it would result in him leaping in distress. He threatened to make you sleep on the couch if you continued to do it. Afterwards, he found a pillow and a few blankets on the couch before getting the daylights spooked out of him once again.

Never had he seen you act like such a child. Quackity's endorsement of the behavior was absolutely no help whatsoever. The poor ceilings of most buildings he went had many dents in them. You could find him anywhere at any time, scare the life out of him, then promptly disappear, probably to set up the next spook. He could not find a moment of peace.

But then, suddenly, it stopped. Great, right? Wrong. The lack of the expected shocks disturbed him deeply. He turned every corner like an animal that knew it was being hunted. Any time you would lag behind while you walked, he would tense as if preparing to be grabbed, but the sensation never came. You had stopped, and he finally started to relax. Normalcy had returned, and his peace and quiet along with it.

He read through some papers on his desk, thoroughly engrossed in his work. Concentration was hard to come by for him, so he was incredibly focused on the documents. The perfect target.

He did not hear the door when it opened. Your feet made no sound as you moved across the floor like a wildcat, ready to strike. He didn't even sense your maniacal presence behind him as you poised, grinning, before your hands shot out and quickly grabbed his sides.

It all hit him in quick, unpleasant waves. The initial jolt of panic, followed immediately by his heart stopping, and then pure unfiltered dread.

"FOR FUCKS SAKE!"

You keeled over laughing, leaning heavily against his desk for support. He rubbed his head, glaring up at the two new dents in the ceiling. When his enraged gaze fixed on you, you only laughed harder.

"Is this funny to you? Does this look like a fucking joke?" He tried to sound angry, to seem scary. The sinister grin on his face would have scared most into silence. But, alas, you were not like most people.

"I think it's the funniest thing I've seen in years." You grinned up at him.

"I'm going to kill you." He growled through his teeth, lunging forward and trying to grab you.

Lucky for you, you were faster than him and leapt out of his reach with a delighted shriek. You took off down the hallways as he shouted after you.

"Get back here you fucking brat!"

Your laughter and footsteps filled the building, most of the employees sending odd glances your way as you sprinted past, only to tuck their heads down as the President followed in suit. Ahead of you, Quackity poked his head out into the hallway, his face a mixture of concern and amusement.

"The hell did you do?" He shouted at you.

"I'll explain later!" You yelled back over your shoulder as you passed him, face pulled into a grin.

You thought that as soon as you got out of the building, he would stop chasing you. You were wrong. It felt like fire was in your lungs as you hit the half demolished wall. You only had time to turn around before Schlatt was pinning you to the wall.

"Gotcha!" You laughed, squealing and trying to move under his arm. "Oh, no you don't!" He scooped you up in his arms, a small reluctant smile pulling at his lips.

You twisted halfheartedly in his arms, still laughing uncontrollably. A small kick to the wall was able to knock him off his balance just enough to send him plummeting to the ground, and you along with him. The grassy ground knocked the wind out of your lungs momentarily, very briefly cutting off your laughter, but as soon as you started up again, you could hear Schlatt begin to laugh along with you.

"What now, genius?" He grinned up at you. You laughed, wiggling just a little more before settling into his arm and leaning in to peck his lips.

"You've been an absolute menace, what makes you think you deserve kisses?" He narrowed his eyes at you.

You pouted up at him.

"Puppy eyes will not work on me, you little shit." His lips twitched a little; he was fighting a smile.

You rested your chin against his chest, whimpering a little.

"No." His words faultered slightly.

"Please?"

You could see his resolve break, and his lips finally tugged up into a smile. "Fine."

You cheered happily and wrapped your arms around his neck, pecking his lips repeatedly and giggling between each one.

"Seriously, what's got you all riled up?" He laughed out, resting his forehead against yours.

"I just need a break from being all serious sometimes." You admitted, smiling up at him and placing a softer, longer kiss on his lips.

"Well, that is fair, just maybe be a pest to Quackity next time you feel like being a shit, alright?" He spoke once you pulled away.

You laughed and nodded. "Alright, but don't expect me to not use your jumping habit against you in the future."

#Schltt #Fluff #Humor #Just a little fic to ease back into writing

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain - s1e1: das mouse

dejavu! have we been here before?

episode summary: brain concocts a hypnotic pancake recipe in order to hypnotise the surrounding population into being his loyal minions. however, one of the crucial ingredients is the meat of a specific type of crab, which can only be found in the reckage of the titanic.

the rundown:

we open with the mice attempting to blow their cage open.

SENIOR PRODUCER: TOM RUEGGER. sorry about that, y’all, but the opening credits are in the actual show, now, so nothing i can really do about it. at least they seem to have a water bottle in their cage, this time, which is good.

NEVER MIND I GUESS. IT EXPLODED. literally every frame there is a smear frame - again, nothing i can do.

poor mousie go bomp. ):

apparently, the plan was less regarding explosive force, and more to set off a rube goldberg chain of events that completely disobey the laws of physics to end up picking the lock.

PRODUCED BY RUSTY MILLS

it’s hard to convey without animation, but this spoon flies through the air and just straight up lands in the lock. it’s wild.

“ooo!” says pinky, watching this all impossibly unfold. “good one, brain!”

“they’re all good ones, pinky.” we will never be free of brain’s face, it seems.

as the mice wander along, brain tells pinky that tonight’s plan will "recieve the aid of legions of unassuming humans”, because he intends to hypnotise them all with the secretions of!

“what, a frog?”

yes, a frog. apparently the frog sweats out hypnotic fluid. it is Filled With Peptides. (pinky’s response to this is “naaaaaarf”, which is very helpful.) after they collect this fluid, brain just needs to work out how to get thousands of people to ingest it.

“like a giant pancake jambouree?”

“please, pinky, i--”

“yes.”

so pancake jambouree it is. brain cooks pinky an experimental batch before he decides to release them to the masses.

look at brain’s lil dress! and pinky has his tongue stuck out. everyone here is having a good time and it’s very cute. this is exactly what lori alexander wants marriage to be.

pinky does briefly express his concerns that he might, yknow, be hypnotised, but apparently the concoction doesn’t attain Full Potency until he adds the meat of a fancy crab, and these are just test batches so he can work out how to hide the taste of the Frog Juice.

it goes about as well as one would hope.

but never mind, eh? time for crab.

turns out all the crab is stored in the titanic.

still, brain is pretty convinced that they can just.... go down there and get it. look at his lil scheming face. pinky argues during today’s pondering segment that “there’s still a bug stuck in there from last time” (okay?) and brain cuts him off to insist that they GO DOWN TO THE DEPTHS OF THE OCEAN AND RAISE THE HULL OF THAT SORROWFUL SHIP.

he does a gay little point and everything.

so obviously, they have to steal a boat.

brain got one taste of crime from stealing that minivan, and it just never went away.

“behold the alvin, pinky. our ticket to the ocean depths.”

“look, brain! a baby sub on the front!”

“that’s the jason junior, pinky. an additional sub carried by the alvin for remote exploring.”

it’s an additional sub because there’s already one on this mission. (i sweat, watching the fbi draw their guns on me, and insist that i definitely meant submarine. what else could that be, right, guys?)

(the fbi put their guns down.)

anyway the mice steal the boat.

in they go.

the first thing brain does is swap out his hat for one that he brought with him, and demand to be referred to as “captain brain”, so he is definitely someone everyone should take seriously.

he just packed that specifically.

the second thing he does is pull out his big map of the ocean and give pinky a whole bunch of co-ordinates to follow. “bowplans at 2-2-9, on my mark!”

“um, brain?”

well that’s a bastard. brain blames “the sub club”, which i’m sure he knows a lot about BECAUSE HE’S REALLY INTO SUBMARINES, MR PRESIDENT, PLEASE WITHDRAW YOUR MEN

and pinky works out that he can dislodge the wrench-- the submarine clamp??? the county council clamped their submarine for overstaying their welcome in the library submarine park???? - enough for them to make right turns, but not left. inconvenient, but doable.

but before they can set off, brain directs pinky to the radar console.

this apparently stands for Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, and is their special signal that they would use to trace their submarines for oceanographic purposes. brain requests that pinky randomise the signal so they’re not followed.

a difficult job? sure. good thing pinky is a trained sub operator with a good few years of experience.

.....you can literally see him operating the submarine a few pictures up. stop looking at me like that.

with a few minutes of careful handiwork, pinky successfully scrambles the sub’s internal computation, and leaves it probably a little dazed and confused.

good thing ‘narf’ doesn’t actually mean anything, in this universe, apart from being one of pinky’s verbal tics?

oh dear.

turns out that the CIA have found the submarine, and have realised that it is, for the most part, unidentified, apart from the letters NARF.

“have you ever heard of jack mcguire?”

“captain, north atlantic. cold war nut. he was discharged-- always saying that when the enemy arrived, it would be with some mythical--”

“nuclear attack readiness formation.”

“narf.”

“the old man is concerned.”

“the president?”

“no, just some... random old man.”

so dearest “jonesy” (blonde) is instructed to track down jack mcguire in hopes to get rid of the submarine. because nobody can track down a sub like jack mcguire (hm) and “the boys want that thing terminated.”

“you mean the pentagon?”

“no, my two boys, josh and aaron.”

meanwhile, at the sub club, brain plots their course for the titanic.

see they’re here,

and the titanic is there,

but they can only make right turns, so what should be a two hour journey will take, by brain’s calculation,

“seven months.”

“well. that’s a bit longer, then. isn’t it.”

“are you jack mcguire?”

“who wants to know?”

“the cia. got a job for you. there’s a sub in the water, and they want it terminated.”

“ha.”

“so the boys finally saw it my way, huh?”

“the pentagon?”

“no. josh and aaron.”

“hold onto your newtons, desk jockey. we’re going sub hunting.”

“how long have we been at sea, brain?”

“seventeen minutes.”

it turns out that pinky is so bored that if he doesn’t do something soon, he’ll die. please, brain. this is also me whenever i have to spend more than half an hour in the car.

brain suggests that he tries to improve his pancake recipe, and pinky can try it out for him.

pinky decides that actually, he’s busy, thank you very much.

no dice.

“i’ve got another reading”, says jonesy, in the meantime.

“go.”

“4-6-0-0-5, bearing 2-2-7.”

“they’re running the nautilus.”

“the what?”

“1943. german boat captain heinz grindelwald evaded destruction by running a circular course, based on--”

“a nautilus shell.”

“so we cut them off.”

“whoever these guys are, they’re good. they’re probably plotting a missile trajectory at the oval office as we speak.”

meanwhile, pinky throws up.

“well? any better?”

i hope that answers your question, brain.

“pinky! are you alright?”

cute!

he does drop him immediately after pinky confirms that he is, indeed, still alive, but it was cute while it lasted.

“why don’t you let me try making the pancakes yummy, brain? my mother fed us very well.”

“please, pinky. you’re practically the poster child for cheese whiz.”

“pleaaaaaaaaaase.”

(he gets to make the pancakes.)

because they have bigger problems now, presumably!

that can’t be good.

it wasn’t!

and neither is that. brain laments that “someone is dropping death charges,” while pinky goes and shuts down the engine.

the sub operator saves the day once again.

“THIS IS CAPTAIN JACK MCGUIRE. IDENTIFY YOURSELVES OR BE DESTROYED.”

“this is..... jacques cousteau.”

“really. can you prove that?”

“here, ze ocean is teeming with life. but everywhere, there are signs of man’s encroachment.”

“darn! it is jacques cousteau!”

unfortunately pinky decides now is a good time to chime in with a “haha, nice cousteau, brain” so jack declares that his “little ruse will cost him.”

“i must admit. i admire your skill. perhaps in another time, maybe we could have been friends. we are very much alike, you and i.”

“i doubt that.”

so mcguire fires another charge, and the mice go down. ocean mice! sink.

):

“haha! yeah! we did it!”

“i get no joy from the demise of another man.”

“....usually.”

“HAHA YEAH WE DID IT YES YES YES WE GOTTEM WE GOTTEM WE GOTTEM”

(”take the jason hr on ahead full, mr pinky.”

“aye aye, captain brain.”)

conclusion:

this is a long episode.

still, now that they have a vehicle that steers properly, the boys seem to make it okay.

“we should be approaching the hull of the titanic at any--”

DONK.

“naaaaaaarf.”

“yes, pinky. soon we will have the white crabs of the titanic, and then,”

WE SHALL HAVE THE WORLD

“about that recipe, brain, and, um, getting rid of that bad taste--”

“not now, pinky.”

“but brain?”

“just cut it out.”

“oh! aye aye.”

hm.

so the mice bodge an air pressure mechanism to yeet the titanic to the surface. as you do.

“but brain, the icky stuff--”

“i said cut it out, pinky.”

hmmmm.

the balloon expands, as balloons do, and the titanic wobbles a bit.

RISE, LITTLE ONE, AND BE FREE

neat!

“our journey is almost at at end, my friend! we release the air and propel the ship!”

that’s a very cute happy face!

so brain does exactly that, and the titanic farts itself over to california.

i’m not exaggerating.

perhaps brain feels vaguely at home on the titanic. he has vague memories of being drunk out of his mind, and bathing in a sink. best not to unpack that.

instead, he decides to crash it into acme labs. for the lols.

“yes!”

(:

the pancakes are jamboureeing. it’s very cute.

jonesey and mcguire are here too! “nothing like a pancake jambouree after blowing up a sub, huh.”

they’re dating now, i guess. i mean, i hope they’re dating. they should be.

“as the hypnotic fluid winds itself through the minds of our friends, they shall return, happy and content to have us rule over them.”

“well isn’t that nice,” says pinky, in a very condescending manner. “narf.”

“but tell me, pinky, about your pancake batter. how did you manage to hide the taste of the hypnotic sapo?”

“well, the hypnotic stuff tasted terrible, brain. so like you said. i cut it out.”

bonk.

anyway this one goes to pinky because he is emotionally intelligent enough to A, understand sarcasm, and B, to know and/or remember what the plan was in the first place. perhaps he deliberately threw it out to make sure nobody had to eat bad pancakes? honestly, i don’t blame him. pinky, defender of the earth.

brain: 4 ½ pinky: 6 ½ outside influence: 10

“here’s our course. heading 3-2-9, depth 100 metres, bowplanes at 15 degrees. any questions?”

“um. if you could be any animal, what would it be.”

“oh, i’d have to say a hawk, pinky,”

“so i could soar through the sky,”

“and grab tiny white mice in my claws,”

“and feed them to my young.”

“that’s just... weird, brain.”

#patb #pinky and the brain #no a! tag this time! #but i can put it back if yall want #hehe

[findingarcadia]

Made For Him

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818468/chapters/66040222

Chapter 4 : Disharmony

The two of us sat in silence for a bit, drinking in the sounds of nature. Me more so than Shoto, who was undoubtedly enjoying the sensation of my fingers running through his hair. To this day my mind could not understand why he dyed it but nonetheless went with it. To be honest it looked good on him. Him and his two-colored eyes. We sat on Yua’s porch watching our group of friends and family play, get dirty, and wrestle through the dirt. I loved each and every one of them in their own way. That included the older people in our ‘family’. Thinking about this family brought my mind to the many unanswered questions I still had.

What exactly are we?

Why is everything a secret?

What is it that lingers around and tugs at me?

Am I crazy?

Living in Washington, let alone a town so close to the border of Canada it was 50 percent forest and more beyond the United States border and mostly protected by laws – laws that forbade many from trespassing on certain lands or deforesting. I never understood the importance of that until recently, the forests were our home. We were woodland people if anyone had to label us. I never understood why part of that many questions deal. We stayed away from the towns and people mostly. We’ve lived here in Spokane since we came to America.

In my time here I did notice many things, people steered clear of us. The other kids rarely spoke to us. We were labeled weird and barbaric for living in the woods and surviving the way we do. I’d like to think we were normal….mostly. We lived like anyone else, shopped for food, hunted for the winter, used furs to help warm us along with some luxuries. We just kept to ourselves. Like a tribe. Or a pack.

“Izuku…”

My mind raced, dark green bunnies zipping about on my life and questions that I barely heard the words that came from my best friend.

“Earth to Izuku.”

I took a breath and pulled my hand from his hair and looked down at him. “Sorry, mind bunnies.”

“I see that. What is going on in that head of yours?” He said as he turned slightly toward me.

“Would you believe me if I said absolutely nothing?”

“No.” Shoto deadpanned.

Sighing I tugged the blanket around myself and up to my chin. “You know, we’ve been here for a long time.”

“And?”

“I’m just saying. Anyway, it’s been what eleven years.” I said softly through the fabric while looking out at the slowly dimming light. Aizawa would most likely want me safely inside the house, and he would probably call Yua just for kicks to make sure I was home. “No one has changed.”

Shoto paused in his motion of attempting to get up and let his eyes shift toward me.

There was a long pause that made something in my head sound an alarm.

Something was not right.

“Change?” he asked. “Change as in personality-wise or what? We don’t need to change who we are or what we do because here we are a family. We look after one another. Why change?”

Smooth Shoto Todoroki, real smooth.

“Yeah…” I agreed knowing full well he detoured the true meaning behind my statement earlier.

“Come on, worrywart. Let’s get you inside.” Shoto stated as he turned and lifted himself to his feet. He offered a hand to help me from my comfortable spot and sadly I took it mourning the warmth and comfort that I had at that very moment. Letting the blanket slip from around me ungracefully, I shoved it back into the chair and allowed Shoto to pull me towards him and ultimately toward the door.

“Aww look at you being a good babysitter. You brought me back home right at curfew.” I taunted. “I’m sure if you sit and give paw, you’ll get treats.”

Shoto just stared at me while I had gotten my keys out and had them in the door ready to open it. “Forget Aizawa and his issues,” Shoto said as he moved away from me with a small smirk on his lips. “You’re lucky I let you live past childhood.”

A snort gracefully slipped out of me, or as gracefully as a snort could. Before I could say anything Shoto swatted my backside and took off, off the porch, and along the path toward his family’s house. His agility to this day confuses me and makes me a little uneasy. Shaking my head I opened the door and walked in, toeing my shoes off at the front. The house Yua and I lived in was designed similar to a traditional Japanese house. Well at least on the inside. Shoes off at the genkan.

“Hang your jacket up!” Yua’s voice floated through the house from the kitchen. Her senses always amazed me, her knack for knowing who was in the house or what was going on was unreal, but hey I guess that is a mom thing. What’s funny is that I had been seconds away from just tossing my jacket either on the floor or on a chair.

Making my way to the kitchen I spotted the mother-to-be, or already mother… I don’t even know anymore. She was creating a concoction of things. Taking a sniff, I could smell a weird mix. “Onions, peaches, chocolate, noodles…” I paused watched her add pickle juice while she had a cookie shoved in her mouth. “I’m ordering take out.”

“Awww Izu, you don’t want some?”

I looked on in horror, surveying the dishes and chopped vegetables on the counter and the other empty containers. “Nope.” I declared. “You and your craving have just created a monster sickness in my stomach.”

Yua giggled and shrugged while she attended her…whatever it was.

“Where’s the beef?”

With all the weird craving this woman had, there was always meat involved. Beef usually, ground and made into the perfect meatballs, or shredded and sprinkled over something. I swear the baby was a carnivorous beast and it made its mother eat weird nasty meat concoctions. Ah, the price of motherhood. Those dark, fuzzy, hopping creatures were back in my brain. Lately, weird things had been happening when it came to Yua, her abdomen would swelling and something it looked like the baby was having a party in there, other times her abdomen would be a normal size for someone who was as pregnant as she was. I had thought to ask but assumed it would go into the pile of unanswered questions.

“Hey.” Yua touched my chin. “I’m going to be okay.” I wondered briefly when I had zoned out long enough for her to waddle herself toward me.

“Mind reader.” It was like this woman knew me so well that my thought never escaped her.

Yua just smiled and pulled away from me with her hand pulled up into fists, like she was ready to throw a punch. “I’m a fighter, besides I’m just pregnant not…”

“I know…”

I didn’t want to think of anything happening to the one person aside from Aizawa that helped nurture me and raise me. For an orphaned child she has never met, Yua had given up being anything normal and risen to the plate of motherhood. She gave me a home and made sure of our places in this family. She stood up to many people when it came to me and my mischief, Aizawa included. You know I think that was why we were together like this because Aizawa saw her love and care and willingness to fight for someone she knew nothing about.

“You’re gonna be okay.” I whispered to myself, hoping that if repeated enough I would believe it. That if said enough like prayer, it would be true. Pregnancies are difficult, sometimes women die in childbirth. Especially if the family was insistent on home birth, those were difficult if there were complications.

Shut up brain.

“Alistair?” Changing the subject was the best considering where my brain decided to go. Stupid bunnies making my train of thought run wild. Yua’s husband, the man she left Japan for. He usually was glued to her side, never one to leave for fear of something happening. Hence the fear instilled into me. Besides, Yua could cook and he never missed her meals. Even if I was not fond of the man, he just gave me weird vibes, his absence was a bit strange to me.

“He won’t be home tonight.” She said as she waddled back and forth in the kitchen, messing with her mixture of food. “Try this.”

Having let the mind bunnies free to dash and hop I realized too late that I took the bite offer. I had regrets, major regrets. Never again was I allowing this woman to feed me. Her food, I wanted no part of any longer. “Disgusting!” I had spit it out in the trash and proceeded to drown my mouth with anything sugary to get the taste out of my mouth.

“Hmmm…” she said and spooned a portion into her mouth. “Your loss, I guess.”

I gagged and proceeded to take large gulps of the soda I had opened. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Yua shrugged and proceeded with her project. At this point there was no other word for it, the food was a project made for the science fair. It was a concoction made of pure pregnant evil.

“I swear, if I didn’t know you, I’d say you were evil.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.” She said as she took another spoonful.

“Yeah, on that note.” I left the kitchen in search of the takeout menus we had stashed somewhere for when Shoto and I had those boring nights of video games and crap talk. “Alistair isn’t home, even though he’s like your guard dog. Aizawa has given me a curfew and gave me babysitters. You’re messing around with me in hopes of distracting me from asking questions.” I yelled as I dug through the side table drawer in the living room. “What’s going on?”

Yua’s form appeared in the entryway of the kitchen leading toward the dining and living area. “Izuku, do me a favor. Stay out of it.” Her expression was one of pleading and I turned away from her face to look at the now found menus.

There was silence on my end. I couldn’t stay out of this, it involved me. I’m part of this family. I deserve to know.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would.” She sighed. “I’m stressed, Izu, I don’t think this is good for me so please.”

My eyes widened and I looked at her then. She struck where it hurt, my care, and worry for her. “You’re gonna be fine.” I repeated my statement from earlier. “Besides telling me to stay out of it, makes me want to know even more. It obviously must be big, and it involves this family. I am part of this family.”

Yua didn’t respond. Not a word. I couldn’t read her expression and at that moment, deep down I knew this was far bigger than I expected.

#MadeForHim #ao3fic #ao3 writer #BNHA fic #BAKUDEKU #izuku mydoria #shoto torodoki #katsuki bakugo #Shouta Aizawa #werewolf au #Bakugo and Midoriya #lovestory #supernatural myths #japanese myths #werewolves turn into actual wolves #BABIES #ILOVETHEM #chapter 4

[gustafsnightangel]

A Softer Side Part 4

The line stayed quiet, minutes felt like hours.

“Buyer approaching.” Davis confirmed as the sleek limousine pulled up.

“Buyer and seller exiting the vehicles.” Jerry stated and fell silent as the two parties conversed.

“Thank you for your exemplary merchandise selection year after year Mr. Raven.”

“Always a pleasure Mr. Chang, I know she’s not your first, but you’ll be hers.” He chuckled.

Oh the things Karl wanted to do to this man before arresting him, the rage bubbled up and almost swallowed him whole.

“This one is for my son.” The Asian buyer said with a smirk. Karl could fucking hear it in his tone.

“The eldest or youngest?” Arthur asked hauling the teen out of the back seat, getting her to her feet, the beauty stumbling as Arthur dragged her to Chang.

“The elder of the two. His tastes run on the wild side and he’s a little bored.”

Strand’s blood boiled, he knew what wild side and a little board meant for this girl, tied up and tortured for the rest of her existence, whether that was minutes or hours, weeks or years was only determined if she could live through each second.

The handover went smoothly, the teen secured into the buyers limousine, and both parties went their separate ways.

“Team B closing in.”

“Team A following Donovan.” Jerry said as their car tailed Arthur on a service road. One of his team had placed a tracker on his vehicle as the exchange was in progress. “We’re clear team B move in and tighten the net, secure the girl and arrest those assholes.”

“Copy and with pleasure.” Davis said gruffly.

“Strand?”

“I’m here.” He said calmly.

“Just tell me when you want me to flip these locks on her cuffs.”

“Not yet. Wait until he’s on the freeway, too soon and he’ll think it’s a setup. I’m hoping he just thinks some water got into the cuffs when he doused her.”

“Just tell me when.”

“Will do.” He clicked the mic of his com off and kissed her temple. “Sweet girl are you ready to get out of here?” He flicked the flashlight on dimly and set it upward to light the room. Her face tilted back to look at him, those soulful eyes making his chest tighten and ache. “When we remove your cuffs I want you to go hide by the toilet ok? In that little nook where he can’t touch you. Can you do that for me sweet girl?” Her head nodded as a finger brushed over his jaw, his lips. “We can’t.” He said gently. “I’m no good for you.” Regardless of his words she kissed him sweetly, a parting gift perhaps, a message that she understood, he couldn’t tell, she was clouding more than his senses.

“We’re about thirty minutes from you.” Jerry said.

Pulling his phone up he rested it against her cuffs and looked at her. “You ready?” Her nod at him, her trust in him, her kiss, he was so torn. “Flip the locks Jerry.”

“Copy.”

Strand watched as the numbers streamed by and fall into place like a futuristic slot machine.

“Fuck!” He spat when the screen flashed DENIED in big red letters. “Jerry?”

“Working on it.” The kid breathed and the numbers whirled again to give the same outcome.

“Jerry what the fuck!?” He ground out between his teeth and calmed as her hand stroked his scruff. How could she be so calm he wondered? Resigned herself to the prospect of never being free, he thought.

“I’m working on it, the signal might be too weak to engage the locks.” Hint ground out between his teeth.

“Up you get sweet girl, on your feet, slight change of plan ok?” He would not panic or lose his shit. Helping her to her feet he watched as her body shook at the exertion. “Can you walk over if I help?” She nodded and he was astounded at her inner strength. He helped her shuffle over to the filthy toilet, the chains clinking on the concrete, they were just long enough. “Can you fit between the toilet and the wall, I know it’s cold and uncomfortable but I want something between you and h...” She held onto him, stretched up on her toes and kissed him again. Something primal stirred in him and before he could stop himself his hand had cupped the back of her neck and he deepened it. It was only her manacles digging painfully into his chest as her fingers scrunched in his shirt that brought him back to the present. “Sweet girl.” He breathing ragged and rested his forehead against hers briefly before she pulled away and settled where he’d asked her.

“He’s about a mile out Karl.” Jerry said, working furiously to boost the signal to his phone.

“Hold the phone to the lock ok? I need both hands now.” Once she had the phone wedged between her wrists he tucked the coat around her to try and keep the chill out of her bones.

“He’s pulled up Strand.”

“Copy.” Draping the coat over her he readied himself for a fight, hand to hand it would be, this fucker deserved nothing less.

“Buyer secured, teen transported to hospital, full guard.” Davis reported and left it at that.

“Copy.” Some good news at least, Karl thought.

“In the house, up to the second level.”

“Don’t flip the locks yet.” Strand whispered. “It’ll spook him, let him come down here thinking he’s going to get what he wants.” His snarl was guttural. “Once I engage, flip the locks. If it goes south she needs to be free, you guys need to be in position to get her out. At all costs you get her out, am I clear?”

“Perfectly.” Jerry said.

Karl waited, the quiet movements relayed in his ear about the man above, no, the monster above. He thought he’d seen his share of monsters in the military only to find the home grown ones much worse.

“En route to basement, team A standing by.”

“Copy.”

His weapons were stashed with the pack, he had none on his person. He glanced at the shrouded form in the corner before switching his flashlight off and readying for battle. The slow slide of concrete against concrete made the hairs on his neck to bristle.

“Oh my sweet Lenore.” Arthur purred. “Such fun we’re going to have tonight my dear.” The glee in Donovan’s voice curdled Strand’s stomach.

Strand waited in the shadows, tucked in the nook out of sight. Arthur would see the chains to where Jane Doe was, would see the shrouded figure when he eventually dropped down into the room. Karl would strike first and hard, although he wanted to drag this out to beat the ever loving shit out of this guy, he also needed to get her to safety, to get them both out of this hell hole.

Arthur climbed down and turned, Karl saw the brief knit in his brow as he realized she wasn’t sitting in her usual spot huddled against the wall. His head only made it as far as a half turn as he followed the chain before Strand sent him flying into the wall face first, the sound of bone meeting concrete oddly satisfying.

“Now Jerry.” He growled and trusted the team to do what they’d been ordered to do while he took this guy apart. “Hello Arthur.” He said flatly as he hauled the now semi conscious man to his feet by his collar. “Not so tough now it’s not an infant, or 16 year old teen scared out of her mind are you?”

“Who the fuck are you?” He choked groggily.

“I’m surprised you don’t remember me. You slipped past me once before in Dallas, almost had you, would have had you if it wasn’t for a shitty team who didn’t care about runaways and kidnapped babies. But this team, well you got real unlucky there pal because this team is ready to flay you alive.” His tone was low and lethal.

“Her locks are free, she’s free Strand.” Jerry said gently, hoping his boss wouldn’t kill this guy with his bare hands before the end of the evening.

“How many Arthur? How many girls have you stolen and sold over the years, I know you keep count.” He grinned, knowing full well Jerry had those numbers but he wanted it from the horses mouth.

“Are you arresting me?” Arthur asked slyly.

“Not yet, maybe not ever if I don’t get the answers I like.” Karl’s tone was flat.

“You can’t threaten me.” He seethed.

“The fuck I can’t. News flash Arthur, I’m not the police, I’m not with an agency bound by restrictions and rules, and I can’t be bought. I can do whatever the fuck I please right now.” To emphasize the point he punched him squarely in the abdominals. Arthur doubled over and retched as he tried to suck air into his lungs.

“What made you like this Arthur, or should I call you Allen Raven?”

“Lawyer.” He gasped, the shock at the mention of his real name giving him away.

“I haven’t arrested you so you don’t need one of those just yet.” Strand was on a roll now, doing this for Jane Doe’s benefit more than his own. And that was bullshit, twenty years he’d hunted this fucker, time for him to pay up.

“Was it your wife dying in childbirth? You know you blaming her for the child’s death was pretty insensitive.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled.

“Is that why you stole this girl, groomed her to be your replacement wife for a punching bag? Someone to take your anger out on? Someone you could rape and torture because of your own failings?” Arthur stayed silent, probably a good thing considering Karl was fighting the urge to choke him with his bare hands. “Did you play happy families Allen.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Mmmm Karl thought, struck a nerve, time to keep the pressure on.

“Did you bring the babies down here with her for a time and force her to nurse, to care for a child that you stole for the simple purpose to sell to pedophiles and rapists. You’re fucking disgusting.” He spat.

“Did you set her free yet?” He grinned, the giggle as the sound of a weapon being racked as the bullet was chambered echoed around the room. “You know she’ll turn on you, my little Lenore.”

“She’s free, and she’ll make her own choice. And her name is not Lenore. She’s free to choose her own name.” Please don’t make me fight you sweet girl, he pleaded silently.

That smirk was wiped off Allen’s face as the barrel of the Glock pressed against his temple.

“Looks like she’s made her decision.” And he breathed a silent sigh of relief. She whimpered as her hand shook, pressing it harder against his temple, the flinch from Allen satisfying in its own right. “Sweet girl he’ll suffer more in prison, I guarantee it. Especially where I’ll send him.” Her eyes darted from one man to the other, the monster that raised her, the man that freed her. “It’s not in you sweet girl, it’s not who you are.” He could see her struggle with the rage and years of torment urging her to end his life, her hand far from steady as the other came to its aid.

“Do it Lenore.” Allen spat and grinned at Strand. Karl pulled him off the wall and slammed him back into it hard, the impact causing the older man to cough and wheeze as he tried to breathe.

“No, you don’t get to talk to her anymore Allen, especially to beg her to take your life and give you the easy way out.” He seethed. Using his forearm against Raven’s throat he looked at her, the terror lining her face. “Sweet girl look at me.” He murmured tenderly, waiting until her gaze fell on his. “If this is what you really want I’ll step back and you can take the shot, I’ll even help you, but just know, he’ll suffer more where I’m sending him.” His free hand covered hers over the pistol, her breath shuddering out as she lowered the gun.

“You always were weak Lenore.” Allen gasped. Strand didn’t stop her tiny fists beat into his head, any place she could reach, her weak limbs making her punches no more than a stinging tap.

“The only weak one here is you Raven. Preying on infants, children.” He growled, pulling her close, her strength snapped she collapsed against him, sliding to the floor weeping. “You get everything Jerry?”

“We did boss.”

“Good, come and get this piece of shit out of my face before I wipe it off the face if the earth.” He didn’t relinquish his hold until he saw Davis at the top of the opening. A burly forearm reached in, grabbed Allen roughly and hauled him up, half dragging, half climbing the ladder. “Book and transport him. Tell Meekland he goes to Hades 6, no exceptions.”

“You got it boss.” Davis cuffed the still wheezing Allen Raven and escorted him away.

Now for the next problem he thought, his own energy waning, how to get her out of here without freaking out. She was curled at his feet, fingers desperately clinging to his pant leg, quiet sobs racking her frail body. “You’re ok sweet girl.” He murmured, his fingers gently brushing her head in an attempt to soothe. “So brave, so strong.” He crouched down, much as he’d done when he first laid eyes on her and waited for her to respond. “It’s all done sweet girl, we can leave at any time, no rush, when you’re ready.” Sitting on the floor she leaned into him and just held on, the need to let the confrontation level out on her system.

A million thoughts ran through Strands head, the syndicate finding her at the forefront.. “Jerry?”

“I’m here.” He said gruffly, Karl could hear his fingers typing furiously.

“I’m texting you something. Do as it says, no questions, I’ll explain later.”

“Will do.” He said moments after Karl heard his text tone ping over coms. She needed a safe place to recover, to heal, and he’d see she got exactly that. Then and only then would he hunt the others down like the dogs they were.

“You’re ok sweet girl.” He soothed as she inched into his lap, the need for something to ground her. “So proud of you.” He said gently, glad she’d not give him the easy way out. “Hades 6 is perfect for him to live out the rest of his what will be a miserable existence.” He murmured, his voice calming her, the tense fingers relaxing against his chest. “An off planet prison full of the worst this world has to offer. Thrown together to eat or be eaten. Child rapists and pedophiles don’t receive warm welcomes there. He will suffer the same torment and hell as you did. It won’t be a quick death for him.”

“Strand?”

“What is it Jerry?” He asked as she looked up at him.

“I have a car ready for you, I’m driving.” He stated, not giving his boss an inch of wiggle room and Karl couldn’t help the smile.

“I’ll be out when I’m out.”

“Copy.”

“You hear that sweet girl? Our ride is here.” Soft eyes looked up at him, the uncertainty in them killed him. “I know you have no reason to trust me, no reason to believe anything I say, but...” Her fingers brushed over his lips silencing him. “I wish you’d talk to me.” He whispered against them, knowing she would when she was ready. “Jerry, clear the house for the next little while.” He said quietly. “I don’t want anyone seeing her.”

“Roger that boss.”

“Can you stand for me sweet girl?” He asked softly. With his help she got to her feet, her body barely strong enough to hold itself up. Strand stood and collected the pack after stowing the few bottles of water that were left. Holding out his coat for her he helped her into it, the weight of the thick wool almost bringing her to her knees. He buttoned it up, covering as much of her naked form as possible. “Very stylish.” He chuckled and saw the hint of a smile tug her lips, it was something. “When Jerry has cleared the house we’ll go up ok?” His fingers stroked her cheek in an effort to comfort, this would be difficult for her. She clung to him, the real fear he would leave her down here. “I’m not leaving you sweet girl.” He kissed her brow and held her close. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“House is clear boss.”

“Copy. Coming out.” He pried her arms from around him and dipped down to her level. “Look at me sweet girl.” He said gently, those sea green pools looked back and he drowned. “Trust me, please, I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but please.” Her slight nod as tears streaked her cheeks broke him. “I’m going to have a peek out first and then I’ll help you up ok?” She nodded again and he stepped away.

Collecting his weapons and shouldering the pack he climbed up the makeshift ladder and peered out.

“He boss.” Jerry smiled.

“Jerry. Take these and get in the car, I’ll be out with the girl in a moment. Don’t look at her, talk to her, touch her. She doesn’t exist at the moment ok?”

“Copy that.” He nodded and took the pack and weapons from Strand.

Dropping back to the floor he found her huddled in the corner, much how he’d found her that first night. Crouching down he waited until her eyes found his. “Ready to go sweet girl?” He held out his hand, she had to come to him. Karl watched in amazement as she shoved the fear down and took a chance, took the hand that was offered, trusting a man she barely knew. “There’s my brave girl.” He led her to the ladder and helped her climb up supporting her weight as much as possible. It was a tight squeeze through the opening, the concrete scraping his spine as he lifted her out and onto the basement floor. She froze as he pulled himself the rest of the way out, on her knees in the fetal position, motionless, barely breathing. He wasn’t equipped for this, fire fight, sure, beating someone bloody absolutely, a fragile mind and emotional state, not so much.

Sitting on the floor next to her he stroked a finger down her arm and the keening whimper gutted him. “You’re safe sweet girl, it’s just you and me in here, in the whole house. He’s not here, remember?” It took him nearly twenty minutes to coax her into his lap again, her rigid body relaxing once his arms had secured her to him, clingy it would be, he thought wryly. Fuck he hated clingy, but in this instance he’d make an exception. “Curl into me sweet girl, I’m going to carry you out ok?” He murmured gently. Pulling the collar up to shield her face from view and her eyes from the blinding work light he knew would be upstairs, he stood and shifted her to get a firm grip. “Close your eyes for me l.” He said as he started toward the stairs, she didn’t need to see or be reminded of anything up here in the house. Once on the main level he wasted no time moving to the front door, his long legs eating up the linoleum eager to be free of this shithole.

Jerry waited by the SUV and Karl shook his head when he went to say something. The kid, to his credit, caught on, snapped his mouth shut, turned and climbed in the drivers seat. Strand climbed in, a somewhat difficult task with a body in his arms. Once the door was shut he tapped Jerry’s chair twice to say he was good to go, his partner wasting no time hightailing it out of there. They drove in silence, the tremble in her body had eased and when he glanced down an hour or so into the journey he found her watching him.

“You ok sweet girl?” He asked softly and her subtle nod had him breathing a little easier. She shifted and peeked out at the city whizzing by, her hand shaking as it reached to touch the glass of the window. Resting her head under his chin he felt her drifting, emotionally exhaustion had finally come to claim her.

“Thank you.” Karl said as Jerry turned onto Mia’s property. “She’s asleep.” He added as Hunts eyes met his in the rear view mirror.

“No problem and I get it boss. With Allen in custody all those assholes online are going to be looking for his business partners, associates, anyone connected. Anyone and anything they can get their hands on to keep the girls coming in.”

“At the moment only Allen and I know what she looks like, I need to keep her identity under wraps. Do you know if he has photos of her?” Strand asked as he stroked gentle fingers against her head.

“I can check. They’re still processing the house so I’ll have a mountain of data to wade through when I get back, but I highly doubt it. She was a tool, someone beneath him.”

“Can you work from Mia’s?” He asked.

“All I need is an internet connection. I packed figuring I’d need to be here for a bit, I have all the electronics from the house.” He shrugged and Karl smiled.

“We’ll knock that green off you yet rookie.” He muttered.

“Mia said there’s a rec room I can setup in with a bedroom off the hall.” Jerry murmured as he turned onto Mia’s property.

“Do that, settle in, I don’t want anyone knowing where we are.”

“Am I going to lose my job if I don’t report in?” He asked seriously.

“If you do they’ll be firing me too. Meekland’s a bitch, but she knows I’ll protect the girl and use whoever I have at my disposal to do so. It’s more my ass on the line than yours.” Which was the truth, although Strand had to wonder if those at the office were more involved that he’d originally thought.

“Well it’s worth it, I’d rather get fired for doing something right than turning a blind eye to this clusterfuck.”

“You’ve got my vote kid.” He saw the welcome party on the front porch. “Slow down and stop before you get to the flamingo on the right.” He said seriously, pointing at the garish pink plastic flamingo nailed to a fence post. Jerry slowed to a stop where he was directed and waited with a chuckle at the flaming pink lawn ornament.

“Now what?” He said slightly nervous as he laid eyes on the tiny woman crouched behind a sniper rifle on the porch.

“We wait.” He shifted slowly into view, taking up the middle section of the back seat so Mia had a clear look at him, and a clear shot if she decided to take it.

“This has me a little on edge boss.” Hunt said and Strand snorted.

“This is nothing, Mia will have you on edge permanently.” His phone lit up and he answered the call.

“Who’s with you?” She growled.

“Jerry and the girl, that’s it. Anyone following us in is fair game.”

“Afghanistan.” She added abruptly.

“Victor Charlie Echo 93757293 Archangel.”

“You’ll do Strand, come on in I’ll get the water on for coffee, you look like shit.” Her demeanor changed so abruptly Karl chuckled as he hung up.

“She hasn’t fucking changed a bit.” He grinned.

“You speaking in code?” Jerry smirked as he pulled around the back of the house to keep the car out of sight.

“Something like that. We were special ops, only we know those codes. If they were to come from your lips, she would have shot you dead.” He chuckled at Jerry’s audible gulp. “Take the gear into the house, meet Mia, get set up, this may take a bit.”

“It has to be terrifying for her.” Hunt said softly, Karl could see the kids heart breaking for the woman in his arms.

“Give Mia the rundown, you’ve been on coms through all of this I know you heard it all.” Was all Karl said as he sat there with Jane Doe.

“Will do.”

Strand sat in the car and held her close while Jerry stowed the gear inside and brought Mia up to speed. She didn’t stir, the sheer exhaustion and paralyzing fear had pulled her under hard which in some ways was a blessing. He only opened the car door when Mia came out and waited on the back porch for him. Bundling her into his arms he carried her lifeless body into the house and felt the tenseness drain from his system at being somewhere even he felt safe, the place was a fortress.

“Good to see you Strand.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances.” He sat in a large recliner and felt slightly embarrassed at being so dirty in her sacred place.

“She’s under deep.” Mia said gently, her gaze scanning the frail body wrapped in a huge woolen coat.

“Yeah.” His sigh was weary.

“Hang here with her I’ll make a tea and some soup, you’re almost asleep on your feet too.” Mia smiled at him, damn it was good to see a friendly face.

“Long few days.” He felt his eyes droop, the wave of exhaustion beckon him under and he dropped into sleep like a stone. Feeling her shift he instinctively held her close before she settled again, the movement only pulling him back to the surface enough to know they were safe and he could sink into sleep once more.

It was the itch between his blades that woke him, the intense feeling he was being watched. He slowly reached for his Glock, the movement of shifting in his sleep with a woman in his lap masking the draw of his weapon. Without a sound he pointed it at those pair of eyes and held steady on the trigger at the familiar chuckle. Cracking an eye open he saw Mia sitting not far from him.

“Easy slick, if I wanted you dead you would be.”

“Fuck you.” He huffed, the grin in his tone cracking her smile wide.

“She’s been eyeballing me for the last half hour.” Mia said nodding to the girl in his lap as he looked down to see her intensely focused on Mia. “I reckon she thinks you smell and need a shower, and could do with a burger.

“She’d be right.” He yawned.

“Do you have a name little lady?” Mia asked and the girl just shook her head. “Well Jane Doe it is. How about you and me get you soaking in a nice hot bath and let this guy go shower, because he’s really on the nose.”

Jane looked up at Strand, permission, she was asking his permission to do normal everyday functions and this tore at him.

“Up to you sweet girl. I need a shower and food, and I think you’ll like Mia’s bath tub.” Her fingers gripped his shirt. “I’m not leaving, you’re safe with Mia, and Jerry’s in the rec room crunching source code and financials no doubt. This place is a fortress, no one gets in or out without Mia knowing.” Jane looked at Mia and smiled a slight smile when Mia winked at her.

“Can you walk with me or do you need help?” Mia asked and stood, holding out her hand.

Strand saw the terror cloud her eyes, felt her fingers tighten on his shirt at her outstretched hand. “You’re safe sweet girl.” She’d been so brave, so strong, and he hated seeing that fear reflected in her entire body, but they both needed to get clean and eat. She nodded, that plea in her gaze haunting him. “I’m not leaving you.”

“He keeps his word Jane.” Mia said gently. “I’m alive because of this dude, he kept me safe.” She glanced at Mia and then back to Karl, the tentative move off his lap to stand on shaky legs making Strand want to beat the shit out of Allen all over again. Karl wanted to kiss Mia repeatedly as Jane hesitantly stepped toward her, positive progress.

He watched her go, the occasional look back over her shoulder confirming he’d made the right decision to stay put for the moment. “That’s my girl.” He sighed, damn he was bone weary tired as he scrubbed a hand over his face. He could hear Mia’s voice, the in jest digs she took at him to try and cheer the girl up, take her mind off everything.

“He’ll still be there Jane.” He heard her say and not a second later she peeked around the corner at where he was sitting. He’d wait until she was in the bath before taking a quick shower, they didn’t need her having a meltdown due to separation anxiety because he was in the other room.

“Do you want some help washing or you got it?” Mia asked, the fact she appeared a moment later was progress Jane was happy cleaning herself and soaking a few years worth of filth off. “Go shower while you can.” Mia said standing in the doorway. “I hope you kicked the shit out of the guy that did that to her and he no longer draws breath.”

“Hades 6.” Strand growled. “After beating the shit out of him, to a point.”

“Even better, I know a few guys there I can put in a good word for him.” Karl smirked, god he loved Mia like a brother.

“You did the right thing with her Karl, don’t second guess yourself. She’ll be safe here.”

“She’ll never be safe Mia.” He sighed and got to his feet. “I’m going to shower. Come get me it she freaks out. Don’t tip water over her head.” He cautioned and retold what he’d witnessed.

“Fucker.” She seethed as she went in to sit with Jane Doe and settle her in.

“Yeah.” He trudged off to his usual room when he was here, the large California king begging him to come sleep in it’s silky cotton sheets for a month.

He stripped, making a mental note to burn the suit he’d been in for nearly three days and turned on the shower. It was a groan of bliss as he stepped under the heat, the massage heads pounding the dirt and sweat from him. He scrubbed himself four times over before he felt clean again and wrapped a bath sheet around his slim hips. Dressed in sweats and a white shirt he padded out to the living room in bare feet.

He smiled and softly chuckled at the sight, a far cry to what he was expecting on his return. Mia was cutting Jane’s hair, the unruly mop looking more sleek and stylish than the filth coated dreadlocks they were before.

“We’re getting our glam on.” Mia said cheerfully. “Your burger has ten more minutes, it’s not nearly dead enough for you Karl.” He watched Jane carefully, her eyes taking everything in, glancing at him, then Mia, then all the doors and windows.

“As long as the burger doesn’t moo when I stab it with my fork I’m good.” He smiled and saw the smile tug Jane’s lips, progress.

“There we go.” Mia said fluffing Jane’s cropped hair and tidying up. Her fingers came up and touched it gingerly and he saw her eyes fill with tears.

“Oh Jane I’m sorry, I should have, I...” Mia was mortified that Jane didn’t like it. “I should have asked you.”

“I think it’s beautiful.” Karl said softly, coming closer so she could reach for him if she wanted to. “It suits you.” Those sea green eyes locked onto his and he felt his chest tighten, god damn it he wanted her. He almost crumbled when her bottom lip trembled, so much change and upheaval in the past twenty four, he was worried she’d implode. “Do you like it?” The tears fell as her head nodded. Bowed before him he had the realization and kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. “Look at me sweet girl.” He waited for those eyes to find his. “That’s all that matters, your hair, your choice, you don’t need my permission to do anything.” That habit would be hard for her to break. He watched as Mia smiled and turned to tend their burgers and fought the urge to kiss her. As her silent tears fell he caved and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her to him to rest against his chest.

“It’s not a Jane Doe haircut though.” He said honestly as his fingers itched to touch the ends of it, feel it fall through his fingers now it was clean. “We need to find you a name sweet girl.” He kissed her brow and lingered, her scent mixed with the jasmine shampoo stirring his arousal. “Something strong and sweet, brave and beautiful.” She lifted her head up to look at him and if Mia hadn’t turned just then he would have claimed that pretty mouth. “What do you think Mia?” He had to divert his train of thought somehow, this was a dangerous line he was skating.

“That sums up Jane pretty good I think.” Mia’s eyes narrowed studying him as she placed a burger in front of Karl and soup in front of Jane. “Soup first Jane, your stomach isn’t going to like half a cow straight away.” She chuckled.

Karl studied her as she turned to face the bowl of chicken noodle soup on the counter, crusty bread beside it. Her hand shook, the ingrained response to wait for permission to eat.

“Sweet girl it is up to you when or if you want to eat.” He murmured. “Your choice remember?” He kissed the top of her head and took his seat. Focusing on Mia he saw her watching him, eyes darting from him to Mia as if looking for a clue as to whether it was a trap or not, was she going to be punished. He started to eat once Mia had taken her seat, the soup and burger looking like it would never fit in her slim frame but he knew she packed it away and burned through it just as quickly.

He watched as Jane’s fingers inched toward the spoon, eyes ever watchful, Mia and Karl ignored it, she had to do this for herself. It was torture seeing her struggle with the basic need to eat warring with the punishment inflicted if she did it without permission, but he let her do it, her terms, her choice. When her eyes flicked to his he winked at her and gave her a slight smile of encouragement, a silent permission. They had to start somewhere. She picked up the spoon and her hand trembled as she took her first mouthful, the silverware clattering in the bowl as her fingers lost the grip.

“Jane.” Mai whispered. “Like this.” She grinned and winked, picking the bowl up and drinking it like an oversized teacup. She made some outrageous sound and slurped which had that slight smile try to blossom on her face. Jane looked at Karl and all he did was smile, maybe that would be enough encouragement without giving permission. Taking a hold of the bowl like Mia had she hesitantly brought it to her mouth and slurped.

“Champion slurper of soup right there.” Mia said and chuckled.

She got half way through the bowl before she stopped, her belly probably overloaded with food, from famine to feast overnight.

“Had enough for now?” Mia asked as she started to clear their dishes and jerked her hand away when Jane protected the remnants of her food.

“It’s fine Mia, leave it there for now.” Karl said gently and gave Mia a knowing look, a nod was all it took for her understanding.

“Well there’s a whole pot just for Jane when ever she wants it in the fridge.” She brought her medical kit to the table and looked at Jane. “Can I look at your wrists and ankles, put some stuff on that will help heal it all up?” Her eyes darted to Strand.

“While you ladies take care of that I’m going to check in with Jerry.” He saw the alarmed look on Jane’s face, the terror filled eyes go wide. “He’s hanging out right through that doorway sweet girl, I won’t be far ok? And besides, Mia can kick some pretty mean ass as well, you’re safe with her too.” He hated putting that look in her eyes, but he had work to do and she needed stability not to be clinging to him every second of every day.

“Let’s get you cleaned up ok?” Mia said as Strand walked to the other room. “Don’t cry Jane, he’s still in the house, just like when you had a bath and he had a shower. You’re both here safe, just in different rooms.” She said swabbing and cleaning Jane’s wrist. “Once we have you cleaned up and I give you a couple of shots of antibiotics you can go into that room too, whichever room you like in this house. You’re free Jane, no monsters live here.” Only the ones in your head, but Mia didn’t voice that particular thought.

******

“Hey boss.” Jerry sighed stretching his neck from side to side content with the loud snap it gave him. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s getting there, showered and fed, it’s slow going.” Karl sighed out.

“You look beat to hell.”

“I feel it.”

“All I can say is I hope that if and when we find my sister, if I’m not the one to find her, I hope you are. Most would have tossed her to authorities or into the system.”

“I can’t do that to her.” He shook his head. “I have no clue how to handle this, but I’ve searched for that girl for nearly twenty years, I just can’t.”

“I don’t think there’s a rule book. You’re winging it sure, but you care, that’s the difference.”

“So where are we at with everything? Get me up to speed so I can go pass the fuck out for 24.” Karl said wearily.

“No chatter on the websites as to the arrest or apprehension of the buyer, that’s good news. Bad news is we’re on a time constraint because in exactly 25 days the second teen should be auctioned off and then a few days after that the third.”

“We’ll want to roll on the makeshift orphanage, before then.” Karl said quietly.

“Figured, so I’ve been pulling all data from them, thank you Davis, to setup dummy girls to bid on. We can work with the teen and bag ourselves another buyer.” He tapped a few keys and brought up the sites he was working through. “I’ve found everything but the homeless or milk money transac...” He stopped and nodded his head toward the door where Jane stood.

“Come on in sweet girl.” He said gently and saw her eyes flick to Jerry. “Remember the guy I was talking to?” He pointed to his ear and she nodded. “This is that guy.” Jerry waved and said a soft hi before turning and getting back to work.

Strand watched as her eyes fell on the screen and her head tilted to the side as of trying to recall something or figure something out. She took a few shuffled steps into the room before stopping and looking at Jerry then Karl.

“He won’t hurt you sweet girl.” She came closer and watched the screen. “What is it Jane?” He asked and tapped Jerry’s arm to stop and give her a minute.

“This is familiar to her.” Hunt breathed, his eyes darting from screen to girl as if it would help him understand. Jerry took a few steps back as she moved forward, now looking at the algorithms he was running for his snooping. Her hand reached out for the keyboard and shook, this was all too real for her, he thought.

With one keystroke she stopped the run and started typing.

“Stop!” Jerry snapped before he could think of the situation or who he was dealing with, the thought of protecting his data searches his only concern, literal days of work. She cowered, retreating back quickly and tripped over the chair in an attempt to put space between her and Jerry, pushing her already overtaxed legs to get further away. “Sorry, shit sorry, it’s just. Fuck never mind.” He took a breath. “I’m sorry I shouted.”

“Damn it Jerry.” Strand snarled.

“I’m sorry, that’s been running for days now and I...” Stopping mid sentence he looked at the algorithm and then back at Jane, her eyes still wide with fear, fear Hunt had put there. “How?” He breathed in disbelief. “Jane’s got some skills.” Karl heard him say as he crouched down to her level.

“You’re ok sweet girl, you were just trying to help.” He smiled. “Sounds like you did.” He held out his hand and she hesitantly took it. “You’re safe Jane.”

“Jane you are a genius.” Jerry beamed at her. “I’ve been able to access one level of data but not the other, his source code....” Jerry looked at Jane and Karl swears his jaw hit the floor. “Noooo, your source code. She... ok I’ma need a hot minute.” Hint stuttered.

“I think we can add smart to that list.” Strand said quietly and coaxed her into his arms. “Breathe sweet girl your safe. Jerry gets a little excited like a happy puppy.”

“Did you just refer to me as a happy puppy?” Jerry grinned.

“See happy puppy.” He watched as she looked up at him and then at Jerry.

“You wrote this?” Jerry asked gently, her slight nod all the answer he was getting as she curled into Strand. “It’s elegant code, beautiful. Where mine is a sledge hammer and just barges it’s way in, yours finesses the tiny cracks and blows it wide open while not being detected or seen.”

“What else you got Jerry, I need sleep.” Karl yawned.

“I have all the photos from the house on here and hard copy, I haven’t had a chance to look through them yet. He has a another record of everything, the undoctored version.”

“He keeping two sets of books.” Karl muttered to himself.

“More than. I’m guessing in that trunk is an air-gapped laptop that has everything in it about the entire syndicate.” Hunt pointed to the two large boxes on the floor full of electronic equipment he’d yet to sort through.

“Look there first thing. You need sleep tonight too.”

“He’s off planet.” Jerry said carefully. “Meekland pulled some strings.”

“Good.”

“Hey, Jane? Can I use your algorithm for a few more searches?” He asked gently, her slight nod lighting up the rookie’a face. “Later I’d love for you to show me more.” She looked at Karl and then back at Jerry and nodded before pointing at his financials. “There something I’m missing?” He asked and her nod made Strands belly tighten. Jerry vacated his chair and offered it to Jane.

“Show us what we’re missing sweet girl.” She hesitantly left his arms and shuffled to the chair, her gaze flicking between the two men, so skittish. Her movements were slow at first until she got a feel for it again. “Like riding a bike.” Karl murmured.

Jerry watched in amazement as she stripped away layers of security he’d been slugging away at for days in mere minutes, not surprising since she wrote the code. After setting up an algorithm to chip away at a particular layer she pushed back and stood up gingerly, wincing slightly, she was in physical pain.

“Elegant perfection.” Jerry breathed. “I’d kiss you but it’s not appropriate.” He chuckled and that slight smile tugged her mouth.

“Leave it for tonight Hunt, go have some food and get some rest.” Karl ordered. “It wasn’t a request.” He growled as Jerry sat back down.

“A few more searches to run overnight and then I’m out.”

“Do you want to hang here Jane?” He asked hoping she’d stay, but knowing she wouldn’t. Shaking her head she moved toward the door. “If she screams tonight let me handle it.” He said in a low tone.

“Copy. Her nightmares are going to be brutal.”

“I can only imaging. Good work the past few days, I know it’s been rough as fuck.”

“It’s worth it. We’re shutting them down, keeping her safe, kicking some bad guy ass.”

“Works for me. Get some rack time.”

Jerry peered past him before speaking again. “She’s his cypher Karl, more than getting past his security. Whether knowingly or unknowingly, she knows his secrets and just because of that she’s way more of a target.”

“Find the device, the laptop.”

“If she’s up for looking through the photos of the house we might be able to locate it, it might be in that box I just don’t know.”

“Process the box first thing, get Mia to help out. I don’t want to shove too much of this in her face unless she willingly wants to be involved. If she shuts down we’re fucked.”

“Will do.”

******

As he came into the kitchen he saw her standing by the window, legs shaking from the strain of holding herself up. “Would you like to go outside and look at it?” He asked pointing to the moon. She looked at him and nodded, there was a brief glimmer of happiness in her eyes. He opened the French doors and stepped out, senses on high alert until he’d scanned the area, not that anything would be able to sneak up on Mia’s house.

It had been a long time since he’d stopped and looked up at the moon, the serene beauty of it. He was brought out of his reverie by her tiny hand taking a hold of his. It wasn’t the death grip from earlier which settled him. Time, he thought, time here would see her recover.

He was so mesmerized by the vision of her looking up at the moon, the soft glow highlighting her beauty, he only just stopped himself before his lips found hers. Those eyes of perfect sea green snapped to his and her hand touched the scruff at his jaw. “I want to sweet girl, but we can’t.” He breathed and pulled back. “I’m no good for you and you deserve better.” He was drawn to her, something deep in his soul came alive when he was near her.

She rested her forehead against his chest, a quiet understanding that screamed at him. “Watch the stars.” He whispered. “Make wishes if you see one streak through the sky.” He said stepping back slightly to look up and to put some distance between her and his semi hard cock, she made him feel things his cold black heart wasn’t ready to feel.

They stood watching the night sky whirl overhead, stars falling casting pretty trails, wishes made. “You still need to search for a name sweet girl.” He said gently as she turned to look at him shaking her head. “Do you like Jane?” And smiled a chuckle as she screwed up her face and shook her head again. “I’ll take that as a no.” She pointed at him. “Me? Me what?” His brow knit in confusion until it dawned on him. “No sweet girl. I can’t chose for you.”

He thought about her mother, the name she’d been given by parents that adored her for the few days they had her, too soon for that bombshell, and that part of her life had been over before it had begun. She needed to choose it for herself, help her reclaim her life, her identity, to figure out who she was after Allan Raven.

Bringing up a list of names on his phone he handed it to her to look at. “Scroll through there and see if you like one.” He shrugged, not really certain if he was going about it the right way. She shook her head and pushed his phone back at him. “Sweet girl, I can’t. You deserve to chose who you want to be, what name you want to be known by.” Her head bowed and she stared at the phone screen, hands slightly shaking as she took it from him. “This is your freedom, the freedom to choose.” He kissed the top of her head and stared up at the moon, willing his own emotions to settle. Mia had chosen her own name and he remembered how liberating it was for her, he hoped for the same thing for his Jane Doe. Hearing the phone screen click off she handed it back to him and looked up at the moon before shuffling back inside as if he didn’t exist. He sighed out and dropped his head. “Fuck.” He growled and followed her in when he was sure he had himself under control.

******

“I think that’s the first time she’s seen the moon in a while.” Mia said as he closed and locked the French doors.

“A few years at least, and that’s no exaggeration.” He searched the room for her and came up empty. “She go to bed?” Was she angry at him for not giving her a name, he wondered?

“I don’t know.” Mia shrugged. “She’s free to do her own thing here Strand.” He gave her a flat look. “She’s on overload. You remember how I was after you pulled my ass out of Syria. Let her be tonight, she might settle on her own, she might not, but you need to give her the space to find out. You can’t fix her.”

“I know I can’t.” He ground out, though he wished he could.

“What’s eating you, spit it out.” She challenged, Mia had never backed down from his harshness.

“She wants me to name her.” He sighed. “Like a fucking pet, Mia.” He spat. “It kills me when she looks at me for permission, like I own her.” He was more frustrated with the situation and circumstances than the terrified girl currently under his care.

“Strand she doesn’t know any better. It’s a conditional response, just as Raven raised her. She’s had nothing, no one but him.” She sighed and looked at him. “In a way you’ve replaced him as her master, that’s how she sees it. It’s going to take more than a few days for her to unlearn everything that asshole put her through.”

“I know, it just...” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “She’s under my care Mia, fell under my care the second I laid eyes on her. I want to fix it for her, make it right, protect her from the rest of it that’s coming, because it’s fucking coming, this is far from done, but I can’t. She needs to do things for herself to reclaim her life, but she’s so fucking fragile, mentally fragile.”

“It’s going to take time, and a lot of it. And she’s far from fragile. All we can do is point her in the right direction, she’s an adult Karl, we can’t be her parents and we can’t expect her to be normal overnight, especially when she has no idea what normal is.”

“Speaking of, should I tell her she has parents? Should I tell her the name they gave her? How do we know what’s right for her?” He was snarling at her now, the asshole in him wanting to lash out.

“We don’t.” Mia looked at him and remained calm knowing he needed to release some of the the fury he’d been riding on the past few days. “We’re winging it same as her.”

“She’s never going to be free of Allen Raven, Mia, this will follow her and I can’t stop it.” Deep down he knew the syndicate would hunt her down until she was under their control or dead, both options were unacceptable and it terrified him that he wouldn’t be able to protect her.

“You’re right, but you’re giving her the best shot at a better life than she was in. Look at what you pulled her from.” She pointed to the room where their case was spread out for all to see as she crossed to him and he felt her eyes bore into his. “You’re right, she’s never going to be completely free, but she’s in a better place now than a few days ago.”

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

#Karl Strand fanfic #a softer side #gustaf skarsgard #sexy as fuck

[elizabethemerald]

Queer Myths: The Glimmer Beast

“How dare you, child!” The witch screamed. Calliope rocked back on their heels at the volume. “For this offense I curse you! Each night, when the sun falls you will change into a horrific beast, only to change back at the first light of the new day. This curse will take you every night until you experience true love’s first kiss! You will-”

“Question.” Calliope interrupted, raising their hand. The witch stuttered to a halt, unused to people she cursed interrupting. “Question, does it have to be true love’s first kiss? I’m really not a huge fan of kisses. Or kissing in general.”

The witch flapped her mouth open for a few seconds before responding. “Would true love’s first high five suite you better?”

“Oh it would! Except… I really don’t fall in love with people. Does it have to be true love’s high five?”

After another moment of silence as the witch tried to contemplate the strange behavior, she responded. “How about a fully platonic high five?”

“That sounds great!” Calliope smiled broadly and a moment later they felt the magic take hold despite the witch’s obvious confusion. “Thank you for you time. Have a great day!”

“You’re welcome?” The witch furrowed her brow, unsure if she had actually cursed this child or not. As Calliope turned to leave, she snapped at them. “And make sure to sta-”

“Stay on the path! Yes I know.” Calliope waved and began skipping down the path from the witch’s cottage. 

“Good girl.”

“Wrong on two counts!” They called back. 

Then they were out of sight of the witch. They paused their skipping for a moment to settle their pack on their back before setting off again at a faster march. ‘I need to make sure I’m far from the village before I change for the first time. I don’t want to scare or hurt anyone.’ they thought to themselves. 

As they walked further into the woods, heading for the mountain that shadowed their home, they thought back to the witch’s words. Truly she was wrong. While Calliope might sometimes look like a girl they were not one. They were not a boy either. If they had a word to describe how they felt they would probably pick nonbinary. Also Aromantic and asexual. But sometimes having the proper words isn’t always as important as knowing you are and how you feel. 

Right now they could feel the cooling air as the sun fell towards the horizon. They would have to hurry to find some place to spend the night. They weren’t quite sure what kind of beast they would change into, or what that change would entail, so they weren’t taking any chances. 

Fortunately just as they started to climb the mountain they found a small cave. They stepped inside gingerly, looking around for any signs of a current occupant. However the cave appeared to be too small for any bears or other large beasts. Really it was more of a small indent in the mountain face than a true cave. The cave opened to the west, so Calliope could see the setting sun. 

They quickly undressed, removing their dress and blouse before folding them nicely and placing them on top of her pack. Soon they were in just their small clothes, so they wouldn’t risk ruining their nice outfit when they changed. 

Calliope watched as the last fingers of the sun slipped below the horizon, as it did they felt a swirl of magic around them. The magic briefly took them off their feet as a torrent of golden sparks filled their vision. As quickly as the magic overcame them, it vanished. 

They settled back on their feet and almost immediately fell forward onto their hands when they tried to take a step. They took a moment to look over themselves. Their legs were now proportionally shorter,  while their arms were now longer and much larger. After taking a few steps they quickly determined the most comfortable way to walk was on all fours, with most of their weight forward on their knuckles. 

Also they weren’t covered in the shredded remnants of their small clothes, so apparently when they change they don’t have to worry about ruining their outfits every time, or stripping naked every night. 

Most importantly they felt like themselves. They knew that there were some curses that could change a person into a mindless beast, who’s only desires were to hunt those around you. They could still think, they still knew that their name was Calliope. They smiled as wide as they could with their new strange facial muscles. 

Something they did feel however, was hungry. Ravenous would probably be the more accurate word. They felt like they hadn’t eaten in days, or like they had just worked a full day’s hard labor on an empty stomach. That thought gave them pause. They knew that all magic had an inherent cost, so likely their transformation made them extremely hungry. They would have to remember to eat a hearty meal each night. 

Calliope left the cave in search of something to eat. But what would satisfy the beast? As they walked they noted that they could see almost perfectly even in the dark before the moon rose, though the world was in shades of gray. Excellent night vision, they mused. Mostly likely nocturnal or maybe subterranean. 

They found a small pond not far from their cave. In the dim light they could barely see their reflection in the still water. They bared their front teeth at their reflection. Large tusks stuck out from their bottom jaw, curving almost up to their wide flat nose. Sharp incisors, and both their tusks and upper canines were clearly designed for tearing into meat. They pulled back their cheek with one large paw to look at their molars. Wide and flat, for grinding and smashing. Perhaps this creature was omnivorous? Like a bear? 

Thinking of bears, they looked again the pond they were in front of. This time they looked more closely into the water itself rather than at the reflection on its surface. They could see the faintest glimmer of movement in the water. They were sure they wouldn’t have been able to make it out at all with their human eyes. Bears eat fish. Maybe they could too. 

It took several attempts to actually catch a fish. By the time the wriggling creature up on the back away from the water their fur (!!) (They had fur!), was soaking wet. The cold didn’t seem to bother them too much, though their fur didn’t have the water repellent properties they would have expected from a creature that lived in the region. In rained constantly near their village, so most animals had some form of natural protection from the weather. 

When they had the fish in their paw they couldn’t decide quite how to go about eating it. They definitely wouldn’t have the manual dexterity to gut and fillet the fish. But they also didn’t want to choke to death on the fish bones their first night out as a cursed beast. 

After a few moments of thought, they gave a mental shrug and bit into the fish. At first the bones were problematic like they had feared, but then they found they could easily grind the bones to almost nothing with their strong back teeth. Truly they were amazed by how easily they were able to bite through bones. They had a very impressive jaw strength. 

Once the fish was devoured, bones, skin and all, they began pulling up fistfuls of grass and shoving that in their mouths. Even to the current pallet the grass was unforgivably bland and while it and the fish helped take the edge off their hunger they could tell it wasn’t going to be enough to sustain them for more than the single night. 

Calliope closely examined their claws, hoping to find some other hints to what they might want to eat and noticed that their claws were wide, flat and strong. They looked almost like a spade. They considered that thought quickly then began to dig into the soft dirt. Here they found their new body was perfectly suited. Despite being significantly taller than a human, and probably weighing as much as three, whatever beast they had become felt at home in the earth. 

They followed their keen nose as they dug. The layered scent of fallen leaves, disturbed loam, a soil filled their nostrils. Each layer of the dirt had its own scent, and while they didn’t know what it all meant at the moment, they could tell their senses were picking up all kinds of information. 

Calliope dug until they came across the roots of a nearby tree. Their tusks were well suited to digging out the roots and cutting them away from the rest of the tree. And they were delicious. They relished the taste and didn’t seem to mind the the dirt that clung to them at all, in fact they rather enjoyed it. 

When they had eaten their fill of tree roots they wandered the forest. They came close to the border of their village but carefully kept out of sight, not wanting to scare anyone there. They traveled around the woods, never straying to far from the mountain that held their belongings. 

The night seemed to race past, as they explored their new body and their new senses. Far too soon they could feel the chill in the air, and watched dew gather on the leaves and grass. They hurried back to their cave, following the trail of the their own scent. They arrived just as the first light of dawn raced across the sky. 

Again the shimmer of magic, and the flurry of sparks blocking out their vision. And they were back as the Calliope they had always known. Wearing justin their small clothes, freezing cold, and starving. They hurried to get dressed while shivering to themselves.

Please reblog and tell me what you think!

#calliope the glimmer beast #tale of the glimmer beast #queer myths #writing emerald

[kittsfics]

Overdue Conversations

Start of series: x  Sequel to: x

"Geralt can tell you about the Witcher code, Little Lion. It's something along the lines of letting no innocents be harmed, and, of course, always making sure you get paid. But we both know he's one of the kindest people either of us have met. Plus he has the patience of a saint.”

“I have to.” Geralt deadpans with a significant look in their direction and Ciri giggles at Jaskier’s dramatic gasp.

“I don’t appreciate your implications, my good sir.” He carries on exaggerating his offence to keep Ciri laughing, it’s such a rare sound, and catches Geralt’s soft smile.

“It’s probably best you learn from us, Jaskier has an… interesting view on morality.” Jaskier automatically opened his mouth to start arguing but Geralt just raises an eyebrow, and he can admit maybe the witcher has a point. “If he had 3 wishes, his first one would be to kill another troubadour. Do you know how I know that?”

Ciri laughs as if she doesn’t believe Geralt, and, yes, Jaskier will admit it wasn’t his finest moment. He’d just come from the Novagrad poetry competition where the judges had been biased and Valdo had been unbearably smug at his undeserved victory. And Jaskier, after several sleepless nights following rumours of Geralt had not been at his best, so both of his wishes were unfair and vindictive. But he’s self aware enough to know he’s not exactly a paragon of virtue at the best of times.

Shaking it off, he reaches for his lute and Ciri immediately drops onto one of the benches. He doesn’t know where her sudden desire to learn to play came from, she’d never shown any interest when he visited Cintra. He has a feeling Geralt knows more than he’s letting on, but hasn’t managed to get anything out of him so far. However it doesn’t really matter, she’s a good student as long as she doesn’t get distracted.

They run through some simple tunes as Geralt settles a little way down the table, getting out his travel pack to check his ingredient stocks over. By the time they’ve moved onto discussing performing he’s started to sharpen his small blades.

“In a crowd always be aware of the overall mood, and keep an eye out for instigators, anyone that’ll cause problems. Or anyone that looks like they might have useful information, it’s possibly the most important commodity. Especially for someone like you.”

“Says the spy.”

“Geralt, I am offended.” The over the top gasp and dramatic reeling back with a hand on his chest gets its intended effect, hiding the sudden tense line of his shoulders and making Ciri laugh again, distracting her from questioning him any further. He knows Geralt doesn’t mean anything malicious by it, but it’s something he isn’t quite comfortable being casually thrown around.

They hear heavy footsteps approaching the room and the sudden, frantic scrambling beside him is probably Ciri fleeing out the other door but Geralt rises before he can check, moving towards him. He shakes off the witcher’s hand as it comes to rest on his hip and moves towards the window as Vesemir briefly appears in the doorway, frowning at the two of them, before carrying on.

“What are you doing Geralt?”

“Are you alright?” Geralt’s voice is soft and Jaskier blinks up at him as the witcher shifts uncertainly, looking like he’s stopping himself reaching out again, “I just ... Ciri has this view of you and…”

“Maybe that’s the way I want her to see me.” It comes out more defensive than he intends and Geralt stares at him in confusion. He makes a conscious effort to relax and takes a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. It’s not hard to see Geralt doesn’t understand; he doesn’t swap personas like clothes, always in the most practical one for the occasion. Geralt’s always all of himself, usually aggressively so.

But he’s seen more sides of Jaskier than anyone else, and maybe he shouldn’t expect him to differentiate between the viscount and the professor, the court bard and the travelling one, between any of the other faces he wears. He just looks at Jaskier and sees someone he cares for, loves, and the weight of that can be exhausting. So he just steps closer and rests his head on Geralt’s collarbone. Arms come up to circle his waist and he can feel a kiss pressed to his hair.

“I’ll stop if that's what you want, but Ciri’s not going to think any less of you.” Jaskier just closes his eyes and sighs, he doesn’t have the energy right now to explain that that wasn’t the problem, that he wanted to share things in his own time, not having things forced out in the open.

---

"There's something for you on the desk."

There's actually three somethings Jaskier finds as he approaches the desk. Two silver daggers, one palm sized that's actually more of a throwing knife and the other longer to match the one he usually keeps in his boot. They're both resting on a notebook, thick and expensive, with blue leather binding and a small embossing of a bunch of wildflowers in the bottom corner.

“What’s the occasion?” He gently runs a knuckle down the notebook cover, it’s good quality, probably something he picked up in one of the cities he’s passed through before they met back up again. And he deliberately decides to think about what that means later, when he’s more awake to appreciate it.

“It’s nearly midwinter, besides I’ve missed a couple of birthdays.”

Geralt comes up behind him, hooking his chin over his shoulder and resting his hands on his hips, kissing his cheek when Jaskier turns slightly. He picks up the knives, weighing them in his hands, they're perfect as he expected and he notices small etchings of runes along the blade.

“For the next time you need saving, right?” Geralt huffs in response and reaches down to set the knives back on the table, and Jaskier turns in the circle of his arms to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He gets a small smile in response but it settles back into a frown after a moment. “Something on your mind, my dear?”

“You don’t have to answer, but Ciri pointed out something earlier.” Geralt steps away, catching Jaskier’s wrist and gently tugging him so he’s seated in the witcher’s lap as he drops down to sit on the bed. Geralt rewraps his arms round him and lets him tuck against his chest, so he can avoid looking at him if he wants. “You look the same as you did when I met you.”

“Did it really take you twenty years and a child for you to realise?”

“Hmmm.”

"My mother was a half elf I think, or had fey blood, that's what the servants told me anyway. She died in childbirth, any other siblings I've mentioned before were from my Father's second wife. But my ears were not quite the shape they should be, and I was always… different. But the main issue, at least for me, was one of gender.” He tenses automatically, waiting for Geralt’s reaction, but he only presses a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head and catches his hands to link their fingers together. “I wasn’t always… I mean I was but …”

“I understand.” He gently cuts across Jaskier’s stuttering explanation, no judgement, just a steady presence.

"Anyway, I'd heard rumours that sorceresses altered their appearances, that they could reshape their whole bodies almost perfectly if they wished. So I found myself a magic user with a good reputation, and spent all the money I inherited from my grandfather.” He shrugs, trying to play off possibly the single most important event in his life as something small. He doesn’t think Geralt falls for it, but there’s no questions, no pulling away. In fact Geralt tucks him closer under his chin, thumb stroking along Jaskier’s in silent support. “It wasn’t long after that when we met. I was travelling, getting used to myself again. The way people looked at me, treated me. Before I headed onto Oxenfurt for the university."

“So, even though they changed your appearance, you still age slower."

"Seems so, it took me a few years to notice of course. And I was never sure how much of that was my heritage, and how much was the magic effects on my appearance keeping me the way I wanted to look.” Jaskier takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I've always been conscious of how others perceive me, how I can shape that, control it, be seen the way I want. Even after… That's why I was upset with you, with Ciri."

“Jaskier.” He slowly turns, arranging himself so he’s straddling Geralt’s thighs and the witcher slowly reaches up to cup his cheek, resting their foreheads together before kissing him. “I’m sorry, I never meant...”

“I know.”

---

Jaskier is playing jigs for a very tipsy Lambert’s amusement, Geralt warm against his side, arm thrown across his shoulders. The rest of the group is spread out along one of the tables at the side of the hall, loud and happy. The fire’s roaring and the snow had melted enough to allow for hunting, so they’d had a decent meal for the first time in a couple of weeks.

"Dance with me Geralt." Ciri sounds so happy as she tugs on his hands, and of course Geralt's helpless when she's looking at him like that, he has been since Jaskier met up with them. Right now she sounds so full of happiness and hope, it's so rare and she's been through so much that neither of them (and honestly none of the residents of the castle) can say no.

Vesemir worries they’re spoiling her, and maybe he’s right, but she’s a princess after all, used to more than they can currently give her, and gentleness and support alongside her training is what she needs right now. She’s a tough child, grown up before she should, but she is still a child. Jaskier absently wonders if he feels it more than the others because, although he wasn’t there all the time, he had been to Cintra regularly enough over the last decade or so to see her grow up. She had been a toddler he first met, wobbling around after her mother, entranced by the soft music he had played just for her.

So Jaskier just watches as Geralt lets her lead him away from the tables, swaying slightly from whatever concoction the witchers have been drinking that they wouldn’t let him near. They almost trip over Eskel’s goat who’s running around loose for some reason, neither of them as graceful as they usually are. But Ciri’s laughing as her hair swirls around when Geralt spins her, their audience is clapping and shouting encouragement and Jaskier doesn't think he’s been happier than amid all the chaos.

---

But later that night Jaskier is dragged out of sleep with a start, automatically rolling sideways out from under the blanket and stumbling over to the window, heart racing in his chest and his gasping breath loud in the quiet room. He’s vaguely aware of the bed creaking behind him as Geralt shifts but doesn’t speak, but he blocks it out, focusing on trying to get his breathing back under control. After a moment, his urge to move gets too much and he starts pacing round the small room, scooping up a necklace from the desk to run though his fingers.

It takes a few minutes for his breathing to begin to settle, still too fast, although it still feels as though something is constricting his chest. He forces himself to gather his courage, mind feeling like syrup, and quietly starting to hum. It’s shaky, but the fact that he can hum calms him as he moves onto scales. He's not choking on blood on the side of a lake. He’s safe in Kaer Morhen, he was teaching Ciri songs that Geralt doesn’t approve of just hours ago, the younger witchers dancing drunkenly around the main hall, under Vesemir’s exasperated eye.

“Jaskier?”

He jumps, having almost forgotten that his witcher is still in the room, and twists back to face the bed as his breath instinctively catches and he stills facing him. Geralt’s leaning up on an elbow, blinking the remnants of sleep from his eyes, hair coming loose from his braids and framing his face as the blanket falls from his bare chest. He looks so far from the annoyed and sleep deprived person he was that day with the djinn as he reaches a hand out.

“Your heart’s racing.” It takes a moment for Jaskier to recognise the confusion in Geralt’s sleep roughened voice and another for him to take the offered hand, using the contact to ground himself. “What’s wrong?”

“Nightmare.” Jaskier steps close enough to drop back to the bed, keeping their fingers loosely linked. It’s honestly been a miracle he hasn’t had this rough a night since they’d met back up. His chest aches and his heads fuzzy and he can feel himself starting to tear up, but he feels slightly disconnected from it somehow, like he’s an echo rather than a person, yet he can’t stop himself from talking.

"Geralt, even though I've forgiven you, the effects are still there. From the dragon mountain, from the djinn. I still struggle, I still have nightmares. I..." He hates both the way his voice cracks and the hesitance with which Geralt reaches out to wrap his free arm round his waist, seeming unsure if it’ll be welcome. “I started doubting things, my friendships, relationships, the people I care for, how much I rely on them. I got us so wrong for over twenty years, who knows what else I was missing. If people were just putting up with me.”

“I didn’t mean it, I…”

“I know that now, but it doesn’t change what happened.”

“Hmm.” He presses a kiss to the back of Jaskier’s neck with a sigh. “I regretted it as soon as I calmed down, but I didn’t know if you would want my company. I missed you before the week was out.”

“A week huh?”

Geralt huffs against his skin, and more of the tightness in Jaskier’s chest relaxes, leaving him feeling drained. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Right now?” He half turns and presses Geralt back down with a hand on his chest, and curls up against his side, trying to focus on the witcher’s slow, steady heartbeat. “This.”

Geralt’s hand settles on his hip and he quietly starts to hum a lullaby, one Jaskier’s sung to Ciri over the last few weeks. Both his presence and Jaskier’s exhaustion are familiar weights and it doesn’t take him long to succumb to sleep again, as the blankets are tugged back over them and another kiss is pressed to his head.

Toss a Coin to your Writer

#Also on AO3 with the same name #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #gerlion #stolen moments verse #my fics

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 15)

Warning for blood and death in this chapter.

She had been there when her mother died. She had been there when their sunny day turned so abruptly sour. When the clouds unleashed a big one without warning. It was just like the most recent storm, the news anchors had failed to adequately report the incoming storm and so they, alongside, several other families had gotten caught in it.

The day had been so kind and promising. Ursa packed their lunch, three grilled hot dogs that Ozai had left for them before heading off to help out at the marina, a bag of hotdog buns, a bowl of watermelon, and several water bottles. Zuko, newly sixteen, insisted that they bring some of the leftover cake too.

Ursa had caved and they were on their way out for a day of shell hunting and tubing. Azula couldn’t have been more pumped, she knew that she would come out bruised and sore, she always did in her successful efforts to outlast Zuko. In doing so, she had taken some rather hard falls. She very vividly remembers a summer ago when they’re competition got particularly heated. Both she and Zuko were clinging on for the sake of their pride. Typically they could last a good ten minutes of Ursa speeding over the waves before a good bump would dislodge one of them. They were on minute twelve. Her hands were cramped and achy from clenching the tube’s nylon handles for so long. But Zuzu had still been clinging and she would too. He let go first. She found out why soon enough. He informed her later that she had been tossed several feet into the air and did several backflips both before and after hitting the water. It had knocked the wind out of her and her entire body ached for days. But she had won.  

The sky was so blue. The clouds were fluffy and white and the seagulls circled and squabbled over dropped french fries. Nobody seemed to have noticed when they suddenly disappeared. Maybe if they had, they would have known something in the air was amiss.

But everyone remained, a group of college kids at a volleyball net, a family building sandcastles, a different family departing with fishing poles at the ready, and a couple and their dog throwing a frisbee.

Ursa arranged their lunch and as they ate, she inquired about how Azula was enjoying her first year of high school so far. She had said that she was only a month in and needed more time to decide, but that she loved her new surf team so far. It was much more serious and competition driven. And then Zuko got to talk about how well his cooking was improving.

She remembers the smell of sea and barbeque in the air as she helped Ursa load the rest of their shells into the back of the car. She remembers the smell of the sunscreen that Ursa sprayed on her when she refused to do it herself. She remembers how her mother too smelled of sunscreen but also faintly of strawberry perfume.

Strawberry sunscreen, still lingers in her mind. Strawberry sunscreen is what she remembers most about her mother.

She tries to focus on strawberry sunscreen instead of strawberry colored blood mixing with seafoam.

They had just secured the innertube, a bright orange and blue thing with a company logo and name plastered in bright red on the front. The air seemed electrified, and in retrospect, maybe Azula should have said something. But she hadn’t and they were well into the ocean a crackle of lightning upset the waves.

It happened so unprocessablely fast. One minute there was sun and in an instant there was an impenetrable curtain of rain. How quickly fluffy and white had turned to wispy and concrete.

They abandoned their tube and hurried into the boat. Her heart had never raced faster and she thanked every higher power there was that she had Zuko had been so furiously competitive. They probably wouldn’t have had the ability to cling on for so long otherwise. Even still she was shaking by the time Ursa managed to reel them in.

There was no time for relief, she helped her mother navigate while Zuko helped hold her steady. Azula could see the shore. She could also see a boat turn over, spilling several fishing poles. She hadn’t known it then, but she would later find out that a girl in her class named Yue and her family had perished.

She zeroed in on the shore and guided her mother around rocks and debris. They were going to make it, they were going to…

She hadn’t spotted the reef on time. She underestimated the tides.

The tides pulled them right into the reef and shredded the bottom of their boat. They were going down and fast. Lifejackets were no match for such ruthless tides. She saw Zuko go overboard first. The same wave took her mother. She had room in her arms for one of them.

She emerged from the water with her legs and arms shredded. Blades of coral proved to be just as merciless as the tides. The sensation was searing and blood trickled down her arms and legs. She felt so dizzy and weak. She couldn’t tell how much of the blood was hers and how much was Zuzu’s.

She dragged him to the shore and scanned the water for her mother. The woman was fighting the waves, and for a moment, Azula thought that she would make it. Maybe she would have if their boat hadn’t…

Azula’s memory goes blank there, she just remembers seeing blood on the seafoam. Blood like strawberries and foam like sunscreen.

She never did tell Zuzu that she had to choose between he and their mother. She never told father.

.oOo.

He writes the letter out, it is sloppy with haste, but he thinks that it is to the point. It will probably speak for him better than he can. He bunches it up in his hand and shoves it into his pocket, alongside his first AA chip.

He tries the beach first. He finds Zuko and Katara, he hears them calling out for Azula but the girl is nowhere in sight. Nor does he spot Jet. It occurs to him that they are looking in the wrong place. Of course she won’t be on the beach, not as furious and upset as she is. His second guess is the cliffside, but he would have seen her already. Those are her two usual spots. There is one other.

Ozai considers taking the car, it would be alot faster but he thinks that walking is the way to go. He isn’t one to place his bets on gut instincts, that is what Iroh does. This time he does though, he walks for several miles. Walks until his already spent and exhausted body threatens to give. What a horrid way to spend his birthday. It is his own fault, he reminds himself.

He takes a deep breath and resumes his walk until he comes upon a rickety old park. It had been a dilapidated wooden accident waiting to happen when Azula was just a child, now it is completely crumbled. The only thing left standing is a rusty old merry-go-round, the only metal structure at the park. The shoreline that it is built on is a cluttered mess of driftwood, broken shells, and pollution; glass bottles, both broken and intact, deflated beach balls, discarded plastic shovels, forgotten goggles now fogged with algae, and empty beer cans.

It smells potently of dead fish and runoff. Ozai isn’t sure why she still wanders over here, but he does find her. She is perched upon a structurally unsound picnic table. Jet stands next to her, likely aware that any more weight will collapse the rotting table. He has a hand on her back and is rubbing ever so tentatively while she rather openly vents.

Jet notices him first. “She doesn’t wanna talk to you, old man!” He brazenly declares.

Ozai opens his mouth to berate the boy for his brash disrespect. Instead he says, “no talking involved, just give this to her.”  He leaves no opening for the boy to decline. He isn’t sure if he should stand here and wait as she reads it or if he should begin making his way back to the lighthouse and hope for the best.

He stands with his arms folded while he waits for Jet to hand his daughter the note. He never drops his glare as he passes it off. Azula looks briefly at him before unfolding the note.

He tries to read her expression as her eyes follow the lines. She sets the note aside and presses her lips together. Her brows crease and her eyes narrow, she fixes them straight on the crashing waves in front of her.

Ozai waits. She is drawing the minute out.

.oOo.

Azula isn’t quiet sure how to take it. She can’t recall a time when her father has ever apologized to her--or anyone for that matter--vocally or otherwise. She fidgets with the note for a moment. It is very short and concise, a little lacking, but it is an apology no less. An apology and a thank you. She rubs her lips against one another and squeezes Jet’s hand harder. “Why?” She asks at last.

“Because,” he answers. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

“No.” She says. “If you appreciate what I tried to do for you then why? Why did you get angry with me? Why were you angry with me before.”

“Before?”

“You wouldn’t let me visit you. It’s because I tried to leave, isn’t it?”

The statement seems to take ten years off of his life. Suddenly he looks so tired. “I wouldn’t let you visit me because there are some things that you don’t need to see. You already saw your mother…” he trails off.

Her stomach knots all over again.

“I wasn’t angry with you.” He says again. “I’m not angry with you.”

“Then why did you…”

He rubs his hands over his face. “I just wasn’t expecting company, Azula. You don’t like to  be seen before you’ve had a chance to fix your hair and makeup.” He tries.

It is a fair point. Even still… “I thought that it would be a nice surprise. You know Katara and I thought that you would want to meet…” She trails off, unsure if this is a good time.

“Your boyfriend?” Ozai guesses. She opens her mouth but he answers before she can ask, “I can’t imagine that he would be so bold if you were just a friend.”

Jet gives a slight chuckle.

Azula crosses her arms.

“Come home with me. We will gather your brother and Katara and have that cake. It would be a shame if you wasted all of that time cooking for nothing, yes?”

.oOo.

Azula nods. That slight pout doesn’t leave her face. She has grown so much, in the last two years. But there are still moments, still small flashes when he can see that she is only a child. “You are getting the smallest piece though.”

He rolls his eyes but he will let her have this one, it is fair enough all things considered.

She continues. “Cake is for grateful fathers.”  This gets another chuckle out of Jet.

But he is grateful, and not just for the cake. He is thankful that she won’t walk the same path that he has. She is resilient--he can’t help but stare at the scars on her legs, she has too many of them for a girl so young. She is strong, maybe stronger than he is. And she is moving on, just as she had done with her mother.

“Your brother is going to be a bit harder to convince.”

Azula shakes her head, “he just doesn’t think that you’re trying. I think that he’ll come around when I tell him that you walked all of this way just to hand me a note.” She holds up her cellphone. “It was on the whole time.”

Ozai sighs, he always lets his temper drive out clear thinking. For once that is probably better. “Would that have been as effective?”

Azula thinks for a moment before shaking her head again. “You walked all that way just for me.” She flashes him a smug smile.

“That or he really wants some cake.” Jet comments with a shrug.

“He wants the cake because I made it.”

“We made it.”

“It was my idea!”

At least he can take comfort in that he hadn’t irreparably broken her mood. He can take comfort in that he hasn’t lost his girl.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Zuko #Ozai #Ursa #Jet #Fanfiction #Sokkla

[lucastheunlucky]

furniture hunt | simon&luke

Date: 6/3/20 Location: Antque Store With: Simon @inconvenientsimonstrocity​, & Luke

Summary: Luke invites Simon to help him find some new furniture for Yum!Pizzeria as he’s in the middle of a small remodel right now. The two try to be a little more open with each other. 

Lucas felt stuck between a rock and a hard place right now mentally and emotionally. This past week was seriously hell, and now the sun was-- no. He wasn’t going there. He was feeling really off ever since he saw Gotch again through the window, and he hadn’t told everyone about the fight either with Ariana needing the attention, and with Winn trying to explain himself. It was always easy for Luke to hide away though. It was terrifying seeing that shotgun pointed at Salva’s head. His nightmares have gotten pretty gory and the constant explosion of a gun going off always had him jumping awake. He’s not sleeping more than an hour or so a night. Well. He wasn’t going to keep whining. The wolves were a mess, but he didn’t think it was their fault. It felt reactory. If they found out about Salva through whomever, fine, he’d explain a little. But his mind was foggy, and it was difficult to push down the despair always swirling in his stomach. Distraction was really necessary for him. “Hey Simon,” he waved lightly, “be patient with me. I’m not sleeping again.” He admitted, “I’m so glad you’re helping me with this. I have a list. I need six bar height stools, five chairs, and maybe we can find some new hanging lights for the tables.”

The thoughts that churned through Simon’s head like foamy waves biting at a black-salted shore were conflicted. They felt diseased, almost, like they shouldn’t have been there and he tried to get rid of them but they clung to him like the parasite he felt under his skin. This was the first time he was going to meet Lucas since what the other members of… whatever they thought they were called a “pack meeting”; nothing was accomplished, nothing felt satisfying. He felt like he wasted his time at the crime scene and though it gave him a chance to fall in favour with the rest of the WCPD, nothing came of it. It was a distraction at best. Every single other member of the pack seemed to be reeling from a decision that happened this past week with the possible exception of Salva, who he just assumed was either too drunk, too busy or too bored to bother messaging him back. At least Lucas bothered to get back to Simon on his suggestion to do something. Eventually. See, it was THOSE thoughts that felt unnatural to him. Why was he thinking like that? Everyone was just very busy; he completely understood that - even Layla must’ve been terribly upset by what happened to Ariana and Celeste. And what Eldon had told him did him no favours,either; hiding as a means of survival, what the power of fear did to the hearts of mighty creatures, like… them. He pushed everything as far down as they allowed, threw the now-empty pill case of Allegra into a passing trash can and stepped into the antique store where he found Lucas almost as quickly as the nostalgic scent of time, paper and old wood found him. “Hey, Lucas,” He replied as he approached the younger man, voice still a little thick though at least he could breathe and probably wouldn’t be arrested by paroxysms. “And you’re all good; no judgement here. We can go as slowly as you’d like or feel comfortable with,” He added with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry you haven’t been sleeping, though… same phantoms?”

“Yeah, gotta love dreaming about getting buried alive or shot in the face,” Luke sighed, but his smile was there, ever honest in that he struggled a lot but didn’t let it ruin his life entirely. “It’s just what it is, I’ll be okay.” The words were stale on his tongue, and Lucas wasn’t sure how much more he could actually take before it felt better to go down different routes. “In good news, I’m mostly healed up. Tore it up a bit this week with shit, but the next moon will sew it up. Let’s go shopping. I hope we find some stuff. You should see the place all clean, and repaired up. I’m so glad I took the time to close it for a week. Insane what a difference it’s made. I really need to cook for you again, Simon.” As he said this he yawned, but he pushed into the aisles, the scents musky and pleasantly calm. “Have you met anyone new in town yet?” Seemed like Simon wasn’t the only one having problems sleeping, regardless of the reason. “I’m glad to hear you’ve been mostly healing up.” He wanted to ask about what happened but he told Lucas he wouldn’t ask about it anymore in their previous conversation so he kept the question to himself and instead moved on to what they were talking about - furniture. “Shopping, sounds good,” He gave a small nod of agreement and proceeded to follow Lucas, glancing off from side to side absently as he reran Lucas’ list through his mind. He wasn’t aware of the small smile that crept onto his pointed face when the younger wolf mentioned both cooking and if he’d met anyone ‘new’ in town. Three weeks ago, he would’ve said ‘Nora’ easily and that answer was still true but he would’ve been lying if he didn’t say Lydia, whether purposefully or not, was the first face to flicker through his mind. “I, uh… I’ve met some people, yeah.” He admitted with a small half-shrug. “And that pizza you made last time was really good. What do you like to cook the most?” He asked.

“I just like to cook for friends the most. Maybe, I’ll make us all some curry, that is always my favorite. My birthday is coming up on the 21st, I could make that if people want to come over. I’m sure Miles will take a chance to throw me a party since it’s been four or five birthdays without me around,” he said that easily to the ears, but his insides always hurt when he thought about it. Lucas grabbed a cart because he knew he’d probably find other things and didn’t want to hold them all. “I’m relieved you are finding some new people. This place isn’t big, but it’s got of decent people in it. I know I haven’t been around to hang out much.” Oh yeah, Lucas had been in hiding for some years now, assumed to be dead to the world except to one. Simon didn’t have to wonder too much about how hard that must’ve been for him, but he also took into account that Lucas probably had an actual life before the incident with Gotch; the way he talked about what it felt like to him to be a wolf, the freedom to be who you were before being forced into hiding… The only difference was that Simon was always a nobody. “Four or five years with your life drastically altered because of something you couldn’t control,” He opted to say casually as he picked up an old cracker tin, pretending to inspect it (though really, he just liked the texture of rough metal) to avoid making it seem like he was lecturing. “I’m sure he’s excited to throw one for you; it’ll be long overdue,” He placed the tin down, for some reason remembering that he placed the tin that seemed to whisk Lydia’s snapping at him away. “...Not to worry, I completely understand,” Simon replied, still avoiding looking at Lucas though he figured that that wasn’t unusual for him at this point. Now, though, it was because he felt the parasite frothing inside, wanting to snap and overwhelm and lash out like a spoiled child. “You’ve had some very important things happening, especially recently; majour changes, entire shifts in dynamic, et cetera. It’s vital to address and fix those problems before you can move forward.”

“Mhm, Gotch’s been messing with me since I was sixteen, Simon,” Lucas picked up a few glass bottles that had some interesting shapes and could look really good on the wall and put them in the cart. Thinking about Miles in any capacity was always a mixture of feelings. The undercurrent whispered that he wasn’t supposed to speak to him, demented words spoken in his ear as a whisper, ghosts of fingers tightly curled over his shoulders and telling him that it wouldn’t end well. And then the little brother in him, in the echoes of memories riding on Miles back, and trying to prank him (never ever successful he's such a punk!!) let Luke want to scream to the world how much he loved him and grab Miles and not let go. “He better,” Lucas laughed, and he was excited actually. “Well, when my family was here, I mean all of them. There were six of us. That pack life was way different then this mess, but then again, my dad was sorta in charge. I don’t think we can go back to that way of living. Feels, like I’m enlisted. I miss not caring so much.” Part of Simon felt guilty for getting the number wrong; did he know that? Was he told that? And yet, part of him, a dark, twisting part, couldn’t have cared less. No, he didn’t know that. No, he wasn’t told that. He popped his neck sharply, a relatively new habit of his and something he found gave him some form of emotional release. He remembered the people that did that in high school; controlling, aggressive. When he was younger, he thought it made them feel superior or like they were in charge… maybe they were just trying to keep the wolves inside of them from tearing them apart. He lightened his expression when he heard the genuine emotion in Lucas’ laugh, however, and he glanced down briefly, unclenching his hands that were white at the knuckles. “Big family,” He returned a small smile as they walked. One of his hands decided to go into his pocket for the time being while the other subconsciously reached up to scratch at his neck. “Yeah, I can imagine,” He scoffed lightly, his tone amiable. “The halcyon days of youth; there and then gone, waiting for you to pick up the pieces.” He pointed off to the side. “Those stools strike your fancy at all?”

Lucas glanced over, “yeah, my family is pretty big. Still, different sets of problems. Things can be easy in some areas, and only get more complicated in others having your biological family in your business all the time. If you can believe me, even if this all seems bleak, I have hope it will be okay-- I really want this all to work. I want to have a family again, even if it’s really hard and we fight, it’s okay.” Lucas knocked his head gently on Simon’s shoulder in passing, “you included.” He looked at the stools and got a little excited. “You have a good eye, holy shit. I love these. Let’s see if they can handle my heavy self.” He quickly sat down and did a few wobbles on it, and flipped them to see if they were all sturdy. “I like that they are all different. What do you think? Would you eat a slice of pizza and drink a beer on this?” “Different sets of problems,” Simon murmured, definitely more to himself than out loud as he ran that sentence through his head. As an only and friendless child, Simon often wondered how his life would’ve changed if he had even just one sibling; someone to fight with, to love on, to tease and fairly criticize but then to subsequently build up to be stronger than before. The closest he supposed he got was a ridiculously neurotic aunt who he assumed was responsible for half his allergies through the power of suggestion… yes, he COULD eat white bread and it was delicious. He was shaken out of that thought when he felt Lucas’ head against his shoulder. I have hope. I really want all this to work. That combination of words seemed to push the wolf further down, further than it had been all day and muzzled it, at least for a few moments. THAT was Simon and Lucas: hopeful. Despite all the bad things that happened to both of them, despite that neither of them made the life-altering choices that turned them into what they were today, Simon did believe Lucas when he said that because Simon wanted to believe that, too, desperately clinging to the threads that sometimes dangled in front of him and terrified to let them go once he had them. He’d let so many of the threads go already but he was still trying to sort through the ones he had left. Hope. “I’m going to be honest with you, Lucas,” He spoke up gently, a genuine smile on his face this time. “I’d eat a slice of pizza and drink a beer on the floor so long as I was enjoying it with someone else.” He admitted. “That being said, I’m no fashion or decor expert but I believe their asymmetry would lend themselves well to the aesthetic of your pizza place.” He added. “Plus, there ARE at least six of them and they all obviously belong together in their own strange ways…” He gave a light, somewhat playful shrug. “I say go for it. I can pay for them.”

“Same, I might even eat a piece that fell on the floor,” Lucas playfully said. “You know. When I played football we’d eat the craziest shit. I’d like that though. Sitting anywhere and munching yummy food.” He nodded, standing up from the stool.  “I like them. You want to treat me?” Lucas though in his thirties could be a little boy way too easily, and his eyes seemed to sparkle in excitement. “That’s really nice. Thanks. I’ll make sure one is just for you in the shop. Have it engraved. Hehe.” He waved down the sales clerk and let them mark it as sold while he hunted for some lights. “Have you considered getting back into forensics? I know you helped a lot with that piece for me. Do you miss that?” It didn’t surprise Simon that Lucas used to be a football player; indeed, it seemed like sports were a good outlet for the wolves to get their energy out. Sports were team-building, encouraged communication, gave people something to work towards. He could never play sports and he needed to stop thinking about and comparing everything to wolves; despite what Orobas said and how he was referred to, he wasn’t the same. “It’s really not that big a deal,” Simon replied but he knew finding positivity in small gestures when he heard it; no, bar stools at a pizza place was rather mundane but there were a handful of little things to be happy about. He didn’t speak again until Lucas asked him another question, shifting the topic and he remained quiet for a long moment. “I have, but…” Would Regan allow it after he (rather stupidly) got so bold to her? Did they even need someone else in the department? Surely they were busy given the death rate… normally he wouldn’t have minded the workload so much. “I might once I get Beans more used to the house,” He admitted quietly; the last thing he wanted to do was radically change up his schedule so soon after getting the… HIS dog. “And I didn’t help much; no one at that crime scene thought you did it, Lucas,” He felt the need to affirm. “And the guys we found evidence for either couldn’t be found or didn’t give up any information. It was a waste of time.”

“Beans--” Luke tried to flip through what he remembered, but sometimes details like that were hard for him to retain since his brain injury. “Is that the dog you posted about? You decided to keep it?” Lucas was surprised Simon felt like he didn’t do anything to contribute. Even with the police looking into it, Luke was glad someone with his interest was there. “You mattered then, it could have been so easy for Gotch to put one of his cops there to fuck it up, plant evidence, or not get the right stuff. I think if you and Sargant Rolands hadn’t been there-- it could have been different.” Lucas sighed. “I mean, I’m not fucking surprised, but it’s not a waste of time though. I had zero of this information for over a decade man. Rich kids will always get away with shit. They probably weren’t even from here. Someone did find one of those guys though, roughed him up, but they kept playing the same tune. They bought the hunt off Gotch.” “Sgt. Hills is a really good guy,” Simon said first, remembering how receptive he was of whatever information could be found and how they worked well together. He supposed that though they didn’t actually catch anyone, it WAS more information than they had… even if it was unsubstantial and ultimately worthless despite Lucas implying otherwise. He supposed Lucas DID have a point regarding planted evidence or corruption in the system… he hadn’t thought about those aspects.”You do bring up good points,” He replied mildly. “I just wish there was more that could’ve been done.” He said, resisting the urge to say ‘more *I* could’ve done’. “But hey; you were exonerated so I guess you gotta take the little victories,” He exhaled and continued to look around for the chairs, deciding to leave the lights to Lucas for now. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. Beans is the dog,” He decided to switch conversations to something lighter but he wasn’t sure if it was more for Lucas or him. “And I’m really thinking about keeping him; I’ve never owned a dog before so I never realised how… great they are.”

“Dude, I love dogs. Duke and I? God, Miles got him right when he moved into his cabin a few years ago and he had the BIGGEST ears and feet, and was all floppy. I’d let him train on me.  When I was healing up and on those crazy meds, Duke and I kept yelling at squirrels. It was nice, they are good companions, I’m glad you want to raise Beans.” Luke found dogs always very easy to get along with, maybe it was the scent or the natural energy he had, but he also knew that coming home to someone, even a pet, was the best feeling in the world. Lucas pointed out a few lights and decided on two that caught his attention when the woman came over to mark them sold. “You should have Duke and Beans meet. Miles could use the company. I’ve been worried about him. Do you have his number and stuff? He just got back in town.”

Good, talking about dogs seemed preferable. Simon smiled softly as Lucas opened up about some more of his personal life yet the thought of him having his own dog was bittersweet… Definitely more sweet than bitter, though; Beans' company was definitely worth the physical misery. However, his smile faltered ever-so-slightly when he recalled how Lucas described Duke as a pup; big ears and feet… That sounded like a big dog and that thought tensed him up slightly, instinctively. His hand started scratching his bite again, suddenly feeling a little spike of nervousness. "We talked briefly on the forum," He mentioned first. "I'll, uh… Yeah, it'll be good to meet up with them… I…" He cleared his throat. Spit it out. "I need to get over my fear of big dogs, anyway." Admitting those types of flaws of his were embarrassing but he didn't know why… Allergic to dogs, AFRAID of dogs, what a useless werewolf he was. "Miles seems like a good guy. You guys are good people."

“Oh? Duke is the bestest boy to help with that. He’s a search and rescue dog, very trained. He saves people, man. Knows how to calm people who are hurt down and never bites unless ordered to by Miles,” Luke took full advantage of Duke when he was healing up, not that he had a choice, Duke would come to him anyway cause the dog already knew he was in pain. “Miles is the best out of all of us. Probably the best in White Crest. He’s my hero, he’s really someone who puts others first. You can trust him with anything--” Luke easily rattled off, clearly the younger brother who idolized his older sibling without embarrassment. But as he was saying all that, he felt the faints presence swirl behind him. Reminding Luke of the horror attached to him causing so many issues for his mental health. “Did something happen that made you scared? Baby steps if you do, plus, it’s also okay to just be scared.” Simon had never met Miles save the one instance where they had their ‘pack meeting’ and there was with no uncertainty that Lucas was very proud to be the related to and the younger brother of Miles but if nothing else, Simon was in possession of the rare quality to be able to hear how people thought of someone and still be able to form his own opinions. He didn’t doubt that Miles was a good guy - he did Search and Rescue and from how Lucas talked about his own upbringing, something like a secretly-bad-older-brother would stick out like a sore thumb in the otherwise idyllic way Lucas recalled the memories of his past before all this shit with Gotch hit the fan. Lucas’ question pulled him out of his thoughts though and one of his nails unintentionally tore open his skin on his collar bone sharply as his hand clenched for a moment. “Yeah, it is…” He said quietly, lidding his eyes partially as he glanced off to look at a particularly ugly doll that stared back at him with unblinking glass eyes. “I got…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, feeling blood well up under his finger as it oozed from the scar tissue he opened. I got mauled by a werewolf. It ruined my life. That was one of the hardest combination of sentences he’d never said. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s okay to be scared in moderation.” He replied just as quietly. He remembered what Orobas said. “But it’s also important… to not let it control you.” He almost said that more to himself. “Baby steps.” He gave a small nod.

“Yup--” he emphasized the P with a pop, and nudged his shoulder with Simon’s, the scent of blood caught his nose instantly, but Luke could tell the duress was making Simon’s mind spin and body react. Luke knew deep seeded fear. He sat there while Gotch cut open his arm frozen in it. Luke, however, wasn’t ever a person who had to fix people, but he was someone who cared about them deeply. He tossed his bad arm over his shoulder, letting it hang comfortably, and pressed in close to his side on instinct. “We’ll get there, you know what I’ve been saying lately to myself?” Luke asked, and with his free hand releasing the cart he waved it in front of them. “Life is okay--” He snorted a little, smiling easily. “It’s not entirely good, but okay isn’t too bad either. At least we’re alive. At least we can have a future, even with fear of dogs or fear of one man. Ah, we are shopping for chairs and lights right now. Pre--tty domestic and, well. Okay right?” Lucas’ nudge and subsequent, instinctual intimacy somehow relaxed Simon considerably, though he obviously wasn’t expecting it to; was this because he was touch-starved? Was it a wolf thing? Either way, he heard his heartbeat that increased subconsciously start to slow down and he licked the blood off his finger while the other hand pressed his shirt into the small wound to stem the flow, watching Lucas wave his hand and listening to the words he was saying. Life is okay. It’s similar to what Lucas said earlier about having hope for the future. Don’t let fear control you. Believe it’s going to be okay. It IS okay. Baby steps. He inhaled, the scents of Lucas, his own blood, the wood and dust and an elderly woman’s perfume as it floated around the store. “Yeah,” He smiled again, gentle and genuine. “Life’s pretty okay. If anything, it should fear US,” He added, perhaps a little uncharacteristically but it was close to the full moon and Lucas had bolstered his own confidence just enough. “The future better be prepared for what we can bring to it.” The word ‘we’ struggled to form instead of him saying ‘you’ - strictly referring to the younger wolf - but he managed to get it right the first time, only feeling a little self-conscious about it.

“Exactly, heh,” Lucas was a person who had zero problems being close and hanging off people, not to the point of being annoying about it, but it was something he did instinctively. Even in school everyone always expected he’d be hanging on someone, and sometimes people even fought over him playing favorites. So Simon accepting it, and not flinching from it made him happy. Touch was important to werewolves, and closeness was an easy thing to give. Luke did find an awesome light and picked that up along with the stools, and a few weird looking chairs that were apparently bright gold thanks to the clerk who asked if it would fit with the look of the place. As they loaded it up in a truck, he felt relaxed. “So, thanks! This is awesome. Wanna come with me to drop it off? We can eat something too-- let’s just chill today? I need a chill day.” There was another exhale that came from Simon after they finished with their shopping, a sense of satisfaction from having found everything they needed that Lucas decided was preferable. While he still thought about how he sounded earlier and the negative thoughts that burned under him before that alongside the sensation that he still didn’t belong or have a sense of agency in relation to the other wolves, he had to think in the ‘now’ and right ‘now’, not being able to tell Lucas what he was truly afraid of aside, he felt… comfortable. The wolf that had been restrained and muzzled still thrashed around but it was deeper down and he could ignore it more willfully. “Yeah,” He replied in his same quiet tone, his natural tone; compliant, agreeable. Really, he felt like all the wolves could use a chill day. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He reaffirmed. A chill day. Sounded ideal.

#x: simon #X; furniture hunt

[elysiumwaits]

Leverage Not!Fic - Accidental Baby Acquisition

Also on AO3 with a deeper explanation of where this came from: You’re So Precious to Me (Baby Mine) - Roughly 2500 words of baby and working through thoughts about children and childhoods. Heavily influenced by some internal turmoil I got going on about parenthood vs choosing not to have children.

I want to see Eliot - big, tough, punch his way out before he talks his way out Eliot - with a kid around 1 or 2. 

Nate, of course, knows how handle a kid, but it’s painful, digs at wounds he’d rather not reopen, and while Sophie’s not the best with children, she can get by - they’re just not her forte at that age. They offer to come by and help out, fly in from wherever they are this week, but Eliot comes in and tells them that he’s got it.

Hardison has to Google everything about taking care of such a small child, Parker has no clue about children that small and is, frankly, very perturbed by the fact that a 1 year old is basically helpless.

So you have Eliot, who does have experience with kids and babies, and, more importantly, a strong protective and nurturing instinct. They’re pretty much stuck with the kid until the end of the con for one reason or another, and Eliot is officially appointed babysitter. Eliot, who understands that a child at this age has a pretty intense fear of strangers and works to soothe and distract and appear trustworthy. Eliot (thanks to his culinary and nutrition skills) knows what a kid actually eats and how to serve it, instead of the bulk barrel of Goldfish that Hardison was going to panic-buy off Amazon along with a massive delivery of milk, toys, furniture, and other baby-related items. He keeps the order for some of the furniture, clothes, and toys, and adds a metric ton of diapers just in case.

And eventually Hardison becomes Eliot’s assistant in their brief stint as caretakers - Parker is good for entertainment, but she really has no desire to be left responsible for the baby. If Hardison or Eliot is around, she’ll turn the place into an impromptu jungle gym, but the crippling fear of something happening to someone so vulnerable on her watch is too much for her to deal with (she remembers the bicycle, after all, and the last time she was any kind of mentor to a kid). She’s got a protective streak a mile wide too, though, especially with kids, so she’s the one who kid-proofs the apartment, to an almost ridiculous extent.

(”Parker, is this a pool noodle on the table leg?” Eliot pokes it - it does look like she’s butchered a pool noodle in the name of safety. There’s another one across the edge of the table, and on all the corners.

“Yeah, kid can barely walk, he could fall and crack his head on the table. I also stole a helmet. Do you think he needs a helmet?” Parker gestures at a backpack by the door, outside of the baby gate they’re using to block off the living room from the kitchen. Eliot can probably safely assume that’s where the stolen helmet is.

He looks back at Parker, who’s sitting in front of the bookshelf with books on the floor around her in stacks. He notices belatedly she’s got a drill in one hand, one of his. “Are you screwing that into the wall?”

Parker throws up her hands, glares at him like he’s said something horribly offensive. “What if it falls, Eliot?! He’s tiny! The hysterical strength response doesn’t happen in toddlers!”

There’s two packs of those outlet covers on the coffee table too, and Eliot decides then and there that the apartment has probably seen worse. He’ll let Parker do as she pleases.)

Hardison is also really good at entertainment, and can do high chairs and naptime and playing while Eliot’s out doing Eliot-things that only Eliot can do. He can put the kid to sleep, but he can’t transfer him, meaning that he’s pretty well stuck under him in a rocking chair for an hour and a half to two hours. He gripes about it, but he doesn’t mind, not really - he likes the feeling of something small and practically helpless trusting him enough to use him as a pillow, relaxes in the calm of the gentle scientifically-proven-to-be-relaxing lullabies playing through the speaker, remembers doing this with a couple of the other kids that Nana fostered for a short time. He usually ends up falling into a light sleep, too. He knows how to be a caretaker in theory, and could easily work up the ability to be a parent - he studied early childhood development, after all - and now that the initial panic of surprise baby acquisition is over, he can handle this.

Parker, quiet as ever, doesn’t know how to feel about Hardison holding a baby, gentle and sweet - she doesn’t want kids, but she wants Hardison to have everything he wants out of life, and she worries that maybe being with her is denying him something.

They talk about it, later, of course. Hardison easily figures out that something’s bugging her, and she comes clean about her insecurities and how she knows that she’s not the type of person that can raise a child and have that child come out healthy, whole, and normal.

(“I don’t even think I want to try.”

Hardison turns in his chair. She loves that about him, the way that he gives her his full attention every chance he gets, even when he’s in the middle of a game. “That’s okay. I’m not gonna ask you to.”

“Do you want kids?” Parker asks, and listens with one ear to the distant, almost-unintelligible sounds of Eliot singing Journey and walking across the floor of the guest bedroom that’s serving as a nursery.

Hardison blows out a soft sigh - it’s not his annoyed one, she’s learned, it’s his thinking sigh. “I don’t… know. Maybe? I don’t know. We don’t exactly lead a stable kind of life.” He gestures at his computer, presumably to encompass all of his illegal activities.

Parker’s quiet for a moment. “I’m not a mom, Hardison. I never even had a mom. I could be an aunt, maybe? What do aunts do? Archie worked for me, but not every kid needs an Archie.”

“Parker,” Hardison says, in that gentle and loving tone, “Being a parent is all about loving them and doing your best. There are books and stuff out there. If you ever decide you want to, and if you don’t want to, that’s okay, too. Hell, someday we might adopt baby grifters just like Nate and Sophie did.” He reaches, grabs her hand where it rests on the desk. “You’re… you and Eliot are enough for me, okay? So, if you ever decide that having a kid is something you want, then I’ll be here. He’ll be here. And if you never want a kid, then I’ll still be here, and he will too.” 

Parker can breathe a little easier after that, but it makes her think.)

Hardison knows she could do it if she wanted to - thinks about how much she wants to do the right thing, about Serbian orphans, about a kid stealing cars to survive, making sure kids didn’t get their Christmas ruined by arrests. He knows that Parker can do anything she wants to, learns new skills and concepts with an intense, single-minded focus. Any child she chose to have would be the best-protected kid in the world. 

Growing up with the three of them would probably end up in a strangely competent and paranoid kid, but ultimately a pretty well-adjusted one. He wonders briefly about what a baby of theirs would look like, if it would be a little girl wreaking havoc at a computer or a little boy climbing through vents. Maybe more straight-and-legal with tech summer camps and ballet or gymnastics.

He thinks about it, lets himself want it for a moment while he gently rocks a sleeping baby that isn’t theirs, one that they’re protecting just long enough to get home. Hardison adds it to the “maybe someday” list, the “pretzel” list, where it’s there if Parker wants it, and only if Parker wants it.

But it’s Eliot who is good at walking the kid to sleep and actually getting him into a crib/bed, Eliot singing classic rock and country songs as lullabies, Eliot who patiently sits through overtired tantrums, Eliot who can understand and respond to the baby babble interspersed with random words. After a few days, Eliot is the one that the baby cries and reaches for. He’s the one getting up with him at four in the morning, long past his not-safe-enough-to-sleep days where he only slept 90 minutes a night. Now he tries valiantly to listen to the baby play on the floor (completely safely thanks to Parker’s intense baby-proofing) while laying on the couch with his eyes closed.

And so it goes, for about a week and a half, maybe two. They manage to run the con and balance pseudo-parenting - Hardison does most of his work from the van, after all, and he’s not above handing the kid an iPad with a YouTube playlist of Mother Goose Club in the name of keeping his family safe (Eliot, even in the middle of fighting off hired guns, bitches mightily about screen time and child development). At one point, Parker spends a terrifying (to her) hour alone with a baby that is fast asleep, while Hardison does some intense hacking and Eliot does some good old-fashioned B&E to send a message. 

The day comes that the con works. The mother is freed and can return to her life, now that she’s not being hunted or threatened. Eliot, Parker, and Hardison have to say goodbye to this tiny human that they’ve grown super attached to. No one cries - not even the baby. It’s part of the job, never mind that they have an apartment full of baby stuff now and a year’s worth of diapers they don’t need. They hug the baby, they hug the mom. Eliot holds on a little tighter and longer than Hardison, and Parker holds the baby just for a moment, just long enough, before passing him back. 

And then they walk away - job is done, after all. 

Hardison’s gonna miss the kid, but in that way where he got attached but he can let go easily enough. It wasn’t his kid, it was never his kid, and he made himself remember that so he didn’t get too attached. 

Parker is quiet. The baby had reached for her, just once, and she’d given him the hug he wanted. She doesn’t know how to feel about any of this, so she makes the choice to stuff it in a box in her mind, where she can open it slowly and pick things out one-by-one.

Eliot, though, Eliot doesn’t look like he’s processing it well, which is actually pretty expected - Hardison knows a lot about psychology and even more about Eliot, after all, and Eliot in another life was a family man, Eliot in another life was a strict but fun dad, Eliot in another life made PB&J sandwiches and played soccer in the mud in the backyard. 

Eliot in this life, though, isn’t the marrying kind - he’s made a promise, after all, “‘til my dying day,” and that’s probably as close to commitment as Eliot Spencer will ever get. He’s chosen his path, walked it since he was 18 and signing up for the army, has spent close to fifteen years choosing it again and again. This is where he stands his ground, with Parker and Hardison, and there’s no room for some suburban house with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. He’d wanted that back in another life, with Aimee, thought about it again with Kaye Lynn in their passing moment together. It was never even on the table with Mikel. He can’t drag some poor woman into his life, into what he’s done - he can’t have a relationship with a “civilian,” not without unintentionally grifting. He doesn’t want to build something on lies, doesn’t want to bring a kid into the world and expose it to the ghosts that haunt him from the past.

Besides, he doesn’t think he could even begin to fall in love with, let alone trust, someone that isn’t Parker and Hardison. In another life, where he’d never met them, maybe he could have had that. But here he is, for better or for worse, ‘til his dying day, just as good as any official wedding vow he’s ever heard.

(“It’s not something we can do,” Hardison says later, in the quiet of a closed bar. Parker is somewhere, dangling off of roofs and recovering from the overwhelming sensation of emotions. “It just isn’t. We can’t… you’re wanted in like five countries-”

“Seven,” Eliot corrects automatically. “Well, maybe eight.”

“Parker’s wanted in nine, and I’m just… wanted. In a lot of places.” Hardison taps the table. “It wouldn’t be… we’d be giving a kid a life of crime from the very beginning. And if certain people found out, the kid would be in danger literally all the time.”

Eliot nods and doesn’t say anything. “You and I know that, but…” 

A beat. They think of Parker and Serbian orphans, Parker and Christmas, Parker and a look of astonishment and joy for a split second as a baby reaches for her to say goodbye.

“If she decides it’s something she wants,” Eliot says slowly, softly. “And only if she decides it’s something she wants, we’ll make it work.”

“I got lots of identities,” Hardison agrees. “We could go straight if we wanted to.”

Eliot takes a drink of his beer. “We’ll donate what we’ve got upstairs,” he says - the furniture, the diapers, the sippy cups, the toys, all of it can be used by another kid. “And if she brings it up, we’ll deal with it then.”

“Pretzels,” Hardison agrees.)

Somewhere on a rooftop in Portland, in the gray and the misting rain of the Pacific Northwest, Parker dangles her feet over the edge and allows herself to think. She thinks of foster homes and stuffed bunnies, of bicycles and Haagen Dazs. She wonders how many other kids there are out there like her, picking pockets and surviving day-by-day, waiting for an Archie if they’re lucky. She remembers wanting a “real family” at one point, remembers the bone-deep longing of it back when she was young and alone, back when she was stealing cars, back when she wasn’t rich and wasn’t a master thief and wasn’t one of the good guys.

There’s potential, there, she thinks, in the same analytical way that she processes cons and jobs and plans. She’d have to shift her plans, that’s for sure. It’s all hypothetical anyway - it can sit with her awhile, and she can figure out if she’d like this particular bowl of pretzels or not in as much as time as she wants to take.

Potential, though. Daydreams. What has been, what could have been, and what still might be.

#leverage #not!fic #eliot/parker/hardison #leverage ot3

[sennokami]

au wherein yukirama is born but madara still leaves, just with one (1) extra sprout

-

“P...Papa?”

“Shh. It’s okay.” Madara looked up, knelt over a small traveling pack, Yukirama’s extra hakama in his hands. Yukirama sat up from his futon slowly, his hair a soft fluffy halo around his sleep-muggy face. Madara quickly folded the hakama and tucked it into the pack.

“What’re you doin’?”

Madara winced. Yukirama was too loud. Even though there was no one in the house right now, he couldn’t be too careful. This would’ve been easy if it were just him -- but he couldn’t leave Yukirama. That wasn’t an option. He went to him, shushing him gently.

“We need to go,” he said.

“What...?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Madara picked him up. Yukirama was in his soft yukata, half undone from sleep. Madara retied it. “Don’t say anything right now, alright? Can you do that for me?”

Yukirama nodded. He was still blinking slowly, not fully awake, and Madara smoothed his hair down. “Good. Very good. I’ll explain once I’m done. Just go back to sleep.”

Obedient, Yukirama let himself be bundled up. Madara grabbed his feet, squeezing them. They felt a little chilly. He’d have to put his socks on for him but not right now; right now, speed was of the essence. Tying up the pack, Madara slung it over his shoulder and quietly ghosted out of Yukirama’s room. The clone he’d made earlier rose from its crouch in the hallway with a nod: all clear.

Good. The clone entered the room, taking on Yukirama’s form as it did, and closed the sliding screen doors. It would take Yukirama’s place in his futon, lasting as long as it could to keep up the deception. Madara already had his own replacement in the futon that he shared with Hashirama, seeming for all the world as if it were fast asleep. He doubted the illusions would last very long but if they could buy him even one more minute of time, it was enough.

Madara padded through the dark, silent house that he’d once called home. Everything was eerily still in here, abstract in the small hours of the night. The walls hummed with Hashirama’s chakra but the wood was dulled, inattentive -- they were used to his presence. 

Hashirama himself was in his office, probably bent over another scroll with Tobirama. The two of them would be absorbed by their work, not expecting anything to happen, and by the time the alarm was raised, Madara would be well out of Tobirama’s sensory range.

Holding Yukirama closer, Madara stepped outside of the house. From here to the village walls, there was approximately a kilometer of land, dotted with buildings and walled off acres. Everyone had their own perimeter guards, not to mention the night patrols, but Madara was confident. He’d practiced this run before, rising up at night and darting to different sections of the walls to see where the vital chink in security was. He’d even done it one night when Hashirama had been with him, just to see if Hashirama would notice. He hadn’t.

Madara ran the gauntlet. Over walls, through trees, under bridges, he left behind no sound or trace of his passage, moving as softly as a hunting cat. The night was thickest now, the new moon casting no light, and this part of the village had no Uchiha nearby who could penetrate his protective illusions. Madara made it to the village wall without trouble.

With a graceful leap, he completely bypassed it. There were no flared chakra signatures. No moving bodies. Everything normal.

Madara kissed Yukirama’s forehead and darted into the dark forest without a second look back.

-

He didn’t make this choice lightly. He’d agonized over it for days, almost tearing his hair out as he tried to understand what could be the best move forward. The tablet had been very clear in its message... but he couldn’t just leave. There was Yukirama to consider. Leaving him behind was impossible. Leaving him behind and then doing what was necessary was even more so. No, his boy had to come with him. Madara would... he’d make it work, somehow, take his child and cut his hair, maybe cut both their hairs, and then possibly dye it so that remarkable rich brown became a bland black. Yukirama was a good child, he’d obey him if Madara told him to.

Madara traveled without rest, Yukirama coerced into a deep, peaceful sleep with a gentle nudge of genjutsu. He meant to go south, where they wouldn’t stand out, and he needed to leave Tobirama’s range. That meant running as hard as he could, squeezing more distance out of each second he had.

Tobirama could track movement in the entirety of Fire Country if he wanted to. Madara didn’t know if his range could go even beyond that. So he took no risks. As he ran, his mind raced just as desperately.

How to explain this? Yukirama was too young to fully grasp the world, much less the message in the tablet -- Madara had to explain why they’d left, why he couldn’t see Hashirama again. Maybe something about a mission. Something simple, something understandable. Something enough to make him realize that they couldn’t go back to the village.

Madara briefly thought about how Hashirama would react to this, coming home to where he believed Madara and Yukirama to be sleeping, only to find dupes in empty beds. Would he be afraid? Angry? Would he look for them?

Madara wrenched his thoughts away from that. He couldn’t afford to think about him now. If he let his thoughts linger, he’d begin to think about how Hashirama would feel once he connected the dots and realized that Madara had snatched Yukirama and run away when he wasn’t looking. He’d think about how that’d make him feel, a father sans his son, and that way, weakness lay.

He hadn’t killed Tobirama, Madara reasoned. That had been purely for Hashirama’s sake. He wouldn’t ever have to experience the pain of losing his last sibling. He could have Tobirama. But Yuki? He wasn’t just Hashirama’s son. He was Madara’s child too, half his blood, flesh, and bone, and Hashirama couldn’t have all of him. He couldn’t have any part of him, not when Hashirama already belonged to something else completely apart from them.

That was fine. Let the village swallow Hashirama. Let it have his clan too, and his home, his name, and his history. That paradoxical state could have it all except for Yukirama, who was young enough to be unscathed. If there was one thing that Madara could pull out from the abyss, it’d be his son.

Perfect union of Uchiha and Senju. Madara looked down at Yukirama, who continued to sleep in his arms. He checked his nose -- it wasn’t cold. Good. True happiness can be found when harmony is reached.

Madara didn’t know much about perfection or harmony or true happiness. He wasn’t an expert on these metaphysical things. But if there was one thing he could understood, then it was the sanctity of young life. Yukirama was part of the first generation that’d grown up without violence. His hands were wholly pure, with a soul like white jade, living in a world where his biggest hurts were scraping his knees. He had to be kept that way.

Madara would have a lot more to plan. Right now, though, he just needed to escape.

#drabble