#my husband had his stones bounce back to him multiple times

[lokis-army-77]

The King and I

King! Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 2207

There's only one thing that King Eddie wants when he calls his wife to the throne room late at night, her.

Warning: 18 + Oral sex (m & f receiving), exhibitionism?, f masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Throne sex.

Masterlist 

I couldn’t help but jump as the door to my chambers was opened and closed behind me, a servant rushing in. The poor girl, no older than ten and four, stopped only a couple of feet behind me and when I turned around she was hastily tucking the stray hairs back under her bonnet. 

“My Queen,” she curtseyed, adverting her eyes from mine. I smiled softly and stepped nearer to her. 

“What is it, my dear?” My words were soft and full of patience. 

The young girl looked up at me, fingers fiddling with the white apron which covered her black homespun dress.

“It is the King, my lady. He requests your presence in the throne room at once.” 

“Ah, then I should get going. Thank you dear for coming to get me.” She smiled before curtseying again and leaving the room. 

What on earth did he want at this time of night? Dinner was only an hour past and I had just gotten dressed for bed. He should be up here with me not in the throne room. 

Sighing I wrapped the long flowing golden robe around me tightly to cover my nightgown from prying eyes. As I stepped out into the corridor, two of our king's guards accompanied me from the bedroom door down into the bowels of the castle to where my husband requested me. 

The cold stone under my feet made me shiver as we walked, it seemingly took forever for us to reach the tall, ornate wooden doors which opened up to a great room filled with candlelight. The guards stayed behind, closing the doors after me, leaving just the King and me alone in the echoing stone room. 

“Dear husband, I hope what you have called me down here for is important, I was about to crawl into our great bed without you.” I walked directly to him, eyes never leaving his form relaxed on his throne and feet padding over the stones.

“then I should make this quick." He chortled, reaching his hand out and motioning me to come closer. 

I shook my head and laughed as well, taking careful steps up the dais to stand before him. 

The throne was a big stone thing, carved from dark marble and cushioned with the finest of velvet pillows. The king made it look like a normal chair in comparison to his broad shoulders and wide-spread legs. 

"What is it that you wanted Eddie, my sweet?" 

“I just wanted to see you is all,” he grinned mischievously. 

“Mhmm, I know that face, you want something from me.” I slowly stepped my way between his open legs.

He ran his fingers along the silken fabric of my robe before they grasped it tightly and pulled me down atop him. We both laughed as i fell into him, legs slotting on either side of his own and my hands pressed firmly against his chest 

“I don’t want a thing from you. Is it not justification enough to just want to see my goddess of a wife?” he kissed the soft skin of my neck, nipping his way up to my jaw.

“Flattery will get you everywhere my lord.” I moved my head to the side so that more of my neck was shown to him. A particularly high-pitched moan fell from my open lips, the sound bouncing off the great stone walls of the throne room. 

Eddie’s hands found their way inside my robe, running up my sides and pushing the golden fabric from my shoulders. It fell to the floor in a rustle at his feet and before it could fully settle to the ground, Eddie's hands were pulling up at the hem of my nightgown. It had ridden up my thighs when I was pulled to his lap and now he was pulling it over my head. I shivered at the coldness of the room, my bare skin prickling with goosebumps. 

“I should have known this is what you wanted.” I shook my head knowingly. “But how can I keep you from what you want?” I grasped his cheeks in my hands and pulled his mouth roughly to my own. 

He delved into the kiss, deepening it almost the second our lips touched. His hands felt rough against my skin as he moved them up and down my body. When they settled on my hips, guiding them into short small thrusts, I sighed. The way the fabric of his trousers caught on my clit had me shivering and moaning into his kiss. 

Pulling away he licked his lips and looked lustfully into my lidded eyes. “Want your mouth, my dearest.” His hips bucked up into me as I ground down on him once more. 

“Then it's my mouth you shall have.” I grinned at him. I could feel the familiar butterflies fluttering around in my stomach as he brought me in for another deep, sloppy kiss. 

Slowly I pulled myself away from him, crawling down his body to settle between his legs. I watched as Eddie rested his crown-adorned head fell back onto the throne and his eyes closed. My hands explored him, up his legs and torso, back now again, over his hardened, clothed cock. I placed the smallest amount of pressure over the large bulge in his pants, causing him to sputter up into me groaning.

"Fuck." A shiver flew down my spine at his groaning and I smirked. I loved that I could get him like this, so desperate for my touch. 

Ever so slowly I pushed my way to the leather string which laced his pants upon his hips. With delicate fingers, I pulled at the string and unleashed him. Reaching into the cloth I pulled him out. He was heavy and warm in my hand. 

A few short gasps echoed around us when I gripped him, pumping a few times before rubbing his swollen head with my thumb. 

He sucked in air, hissing dryly when I spread the quick-appearing bead of precum over and around his slit. His hips jerked once more, pushing him further into my hand. 

I pushed his groaning, "be patient my king." I was smirking at his unamused scoff. 

"I am patient." 

I chuckled, “Sure you are.” His mouth opened to retort but as he did so I stroked my thumb over his slit once more, leaving him mute. I gave him a few pumps up and down before I wiggled myself up on my knees further and leaned over his lap. With my tongue out, I licked all the way from base to tip, his coarse hairs tickling my chin.

Eddie’s fingers white-knuckled the arms of his throne as I flattened my tongue on him, strained groans leaving his lips. I hummed content, the taste of him a mix of tanginess and musk. I clenched around nothing as I continued to teasingly lick him, tounging at the vein which ran along the underside of his cock. 

My body was buzzing with excitement, the heat sourcing under my skin distracting me from the cold air of the throne room. Moving my mouth back to his tip, I slowly slid the mushroom head into my mouth, lips creating a suction around him as I suckled on him. 

“God, fuck- fuck, that feels so good.” He gasped above me, barely able to get the words out. His large hand slithered into my hair, forcing my head down onto him. I gagged a bit when he hit the back of my throat, choking on his great length. Taking deep breaths through my nose I was able to calm myself down and take him as deep into my mouth as I could. Eddie grunted above me, shushing me each time I gaged around his cock. Eventually, my nose hit the tuft of hair at the base of him, I had taken him all the way. 

My mouth was open wide, tongue moving around the shaft as it filled me up. His hand was a constant pressure as he kept me pushed down on him. Then, he pulled me up roughly, a string of spit still connected us together once he had removed himself from my mouth. I took quick deep breaths of air, sputtering to get them all down before he smiled and pushed me back down, moaning out in pleasure. 

I was growing wetter by the second as he used my mouth, and my right hand snuck down, off his knee, to my dripping cunt. Spreading my lower lips with my fingers, I hummed around him, my throat relaxing even more. As he fucked up into me my own hand delivers much-needed attention to my throbbing clit. I couldn’t help but moan, it felt so good. 

As he pummeled his cock down my throat, reveling in the sloppy noises I was making, I moved my hand faster and faster around my clit. My stomach tightened and I clenched around nothing, I was so close. 

Eddie’s hips started to lose their rhythm, stalling here and there, becoming uneven. He was coming to his end. With one last thrust and an almost primal cry, he came into my mouth. Cum pooled on my tongue and flowed down my throat. I sighed as he released into me, the feeling of his warm seed spilling into my tummy made the sweltering heat in me boil to new heights. 

With a long shaky breath Eddie let me up off him once more and I swallowed everything still setting on my tongue. Now, without my mouth stuffed with cock, my whimpers were more pronounced, echoing around us in the room. 

“Are you touching yourself?” He asked, voice breathy yet deep with lust. 

I nodded, hand still working between my legs. My body slumped forward against his legs as I kept going but it wasn’t long before he gently pushed me to lay back on the floor. 

“Let me watch you come undone.” I arched my back on the cold stones at his words, my fingers delving into my weeping cunt two at a time. Having him watch me pleasure myself had my nerves humming in delight. The obscene squelching that was made had me moaning out. 

“Just like that my Queen.” Eddie placed a large hand on one of my knees. Stroking down my calf and stretching the leg so that it rested on his lap. His fingers languidly traced up and down my skin. 

I cried out as I fucked myself on my fingers, pace wavering as my body tensed. “Eddie!” I wailed, walls spasming around my fingers, forcing me to still as the orgasm crashed down on me. 

My moans and cries filled the air as I came around my fingers, juices leaking between them and down to the floor. 

“Shit,” I sighed, my body finally relaxing and fingers slipping out of my pussy. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Eddie’s words were soft as he took my leg and placed it back on the floor only to fall to his knees from the throne and settle between my own. “Let me clean you up.” I shivered as he slowly descended upon me, giving the puffy and used lips of my cunt gentle kitten licks. 

My hips tried to buck away from him, pussy still sensitive. He held me down with his strong hands as his tongue explored. I couldn’t keep the wanton moans down and if anyone were standing outside the throne room doors they could definitely hear them. 

A mixture of Eddie’s name and ‘My King’s passed my lips as he licked me clean. Tears formed in my eyes as he stopped at my clit, sucking on it. My hands flew to his hair, knocking the crown from his head. 

“Ah!” I shook my head as a flash of heat erupted in me. “Eddie! I can’t!” The tears began to fall. “It’s too much.” 

Eddie’s fingers gripped my plush thighs keeping them spread as my muscles involuntarily tried to close around him. My second orgasm was coming fast, it was so strong, the only way to describe it is like I was dying. 

My body convulsed in overstimulation, my mouth opening in a silent scream as my next orgasm ripped threw me. Eddie kept lapping his tongue as I came, collecting all my arousal on his tongue, humming as he tasted it. With the strong grip I had on his hair, I pulled his mouth away from my quivering cunt, no longer able to take the sensations he was giving me. 

Exhausted, I closed my eyes, no longer able to keep them open. I was so worn out I could have slept right there on the floor, curled up in the fabrics of my nightgown and robe used as blankets. Eddie had other plans though as he wrapped me in my robe and pulled me up into his arms. I did not question what he was doing, on account that I was too drained and I knew he was walking us to our chambers. 

The last thing I remember before I fell asleep in his arms as he climbed the stairs was the feel of his lips kissing me softly and his voice whispering, “I will forever love you, my darling.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #king eddie #king eddie munson

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Four

I would say this is where the plot really kicks up. Especially next chapter.

\\ Warnings: blood, violence, guns //

Home was quiet under the overcast winter sky. A blanket of snow covered everything in sight. Scott shoved his hands in his pockets and shivered away the chill creeping down his back. It was beginning to snow more heavily as the evening set in on the server.

Winter never faired well with him, it made his hands and knees weak, and stuck him with a near constant headache. Most ailments rendered him bedridden if it was cold enough outside. He hoped he wouldn’t get sick.

Jimmy had hurried them into Scott’s home quickly after entering the walls. It wasn’t really Scott’s anymore as both of them had been sharing the space for quite a while. There was evidence of each of them strewn about.

It could do with some cleaning but the clutter made it feel more natural.

Safer, perhaps.

Scott took his shoes and jacket off. He left them near the door so no muck would get tracked into the house. It was cold inside from a week of being neglected, not a lamp had been left on after he went to see the Sand People.

One glance at his bed proved to be the nail in the coffin. He climbed into the loft and lay down, his head hit the pillow and he was out.

*****

Water trickled across the ceiling. It dropped down and landed on Scott’s cheek. Plunk Plunk Plunk.

Scott blinked into awareness and looked for the source of his awakening, only to find that it was completely dark. Panic surged through him and he sat up quickly only to hit his head on a hard surface. His hands flew out in surprise and hit two stone walls.

“What,” he breathed.

The floor beneath him was damp from perpetual rain seeping into the cell.

“No,” he whispered repeatedly.

The darkness was suffocating this time, he couldn’t calm down, he knew he’d run out of air eventually. Maybe the lack of oxygen was finally making him go crazy, imagining the walls were getting closer and closer. Scott pushed himself up against the corner and hugged his knees to his chest.

The water that woke him up seemed to flow more like a waterfall now. It hit the jagged floor and slowly approached the corner Scott had decided to glue himself to, but it didn’t stop. The water only grew deeper and deeper. He was too tired to even care. Death seemed like a more peaceful option then trying to escape.

He would drown in his tomb alone, and they would get away with it.

*****

Scott’s eyes flew open. This time not to a completely dark stone tomb, but a softly moonlit bedroom. His bedroom.

A weight from behind him made itself known.

Jimmy must have gotten into bed with him earlier that night. The covers were pulled over both of them.

Scott turned around and leaned into his sleeping husband’s arms, taking a few moments to assure himself of his surroundings; and that he was safe at home.

Sensing that his night of sleep had been cut short, Scott meticulously unwrapped himself from Jimmy’s arms and replaced himself with a pillow.

His socks masked most of the noise he made as he exited the room and partially closed the door behind him. It was deathly silent when he unhooked his coat (the one he didn’t ruin) from its place on the wall, equipped his boots, and slipped outside.

The contrast of warmth from inside to outside made Scott’s eyes water. His hands were safe inside his mittens when he brushed some snow off his front steps and sat down.

It was a bit windy outside, breeze funneled through the valley and into the Hobbit town. It bounced off the hills and dissipated into the air. Scott wished he’d brought his telescope so he could admire the sky, which was clear at the moment. A lonely band of the Milky Way sliced across the cosmos to the west.

Stargazing always filled him with a feeling of yearning. He couldn’t remember why, or even when it had started, but ever since he found himself on this server with borders and rules he felt out of place. Not just in the way he looked, but being grounded for so long. Scott had trouble understanding the ways of this world. It was obvious that he didn’t quite fit.

The snow had died down since they arrived hours earlier, nobody had cleared it for a while so it was near shin deep. Every inch of the landscape was buried, including the entrance to their enchanting room, and all the flowers that would typically adorn the forest floor.

Something was wrong.

Scott couldn’t put his finger on it. Coming to alertness, he scanned the scenery like a hawk until he saw it.

Footprints.

Fresh. Footprints.

Directly in front of his home, they came right up to the first step and no further. There was multiple sets fanning out across the lawn area. He could see all three sets from his perch.

Scott froze with fear. Someone had paid a visit in the middle of the night while they were asleep. He wondered why, but he knew.

He was about to get up and lock himself inside when he felt something step on the creaking stairs right behind him. Scott’s eyes flicked to the side for a split second before he instinctively stood up and attempted to flee down the remaining steps, but he didn’t make it.

A hand instantly wrapped around his forearm and wrenched him backwards, he fell into an armored torso. A gloved hand clapped over his mouth, and an arm snaked under his own to render them paralyzed.

“It would be in your best interest not to scream Major,” a terrible Scottish accent made itself known. Scott nearly rolled his eyes.

Of course, this dramatic fool had to come and ruin his night. One thing was for certain, he was not getting kidnapped again.

A sharp object poked at his ribs.

“Just a precaution,” someone said in a falsely apologetic tone. No doubt it was Skizzle.

That meant that he was being immobilized by Martyn. He should have known really, that man followed the Red King anywhere. Upon the ladder’s orders, he escorted Scott down the steps and across the snow stricken grounds, just next to Jimmy’s “house” that they’d mainly been using as storage for the odds and ends that didn’t fit in Scott’s place.

The hand was removed from his jaw and he jolted his head away with a mirthful expression. He fixed his eyes directly where he assumed Ren’s were beneath his sunglasses; which he was wearing in the dead of night. Asshole.

Skizzle stood next to Ren with an imposing posture, as Martyn had a free hand to hold his own weapon with. The weapon being an enchanted diamond axe which he held with a sort of pride.

“You know,” Ren began, “I must give it to you Major, that escape you pulled off was impressive,” he spoke in an unbothered manner and ground his foot upon a rock somewhere under the snow.

“Why are you doing this, Ren?” Scott cut to the chase. He was uninterested in games.

“You aren’t even a red lifer. You can’t kill me,” he added.

Ren scoffed. He adjusted his glasses, “and who exactly is policing that rule?” he said with a knowing quirk of an eyebrow.

“Grian?”a beat passed, “you?!” he began to laugh to himself. Skizzle and Martyn joined in momentarily.

“More green lifers have killed people than red at this stage, so don’t get on me about that,” he said.

“These are my walls,” Scott pointed out.

“That’s funny, you didn’t seem to have much respect for our walls earlier did you,” Martyn said close to Scott’s ear. He pulled away.

“Can I at least be let in on why you’re picking on me of all people?” Scott asked with no enthusiasm.

“Don’t tell me you went on and forgot that Timmy dearest is responsible for the deaths of myself and Skizzle,” Ren shot back, leaning into the other’s personal space.

Everyone looked between each other, “among other things,” Ren added.

Skiz nodded in agreement and sent a meaningful glare towards Scott’s house, where a dim light was on in the bedroom.

Scott’s mouth hung open in rueful shock, “that’s what all this is about? It was an accident,” he shouted. Which earned him a light punch in the side.

“Be quiet,” Martyn warned.

“You know he didn’t mean it! He was sorry and you know it. The only reason you’re even here right now is because it was an accident. Don’t do this to him,” Scott half pleaded but he was more angry.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You’re buddy buddy with the people who want to kill us too. Hmm, maybe you are familiar with the term ‘covering our bases’?” Ren added.

“This isn’t all about your perfect little life Major,” Ren dropped the accent and took Scott by the front of his jacket.

“Things are going to change around here for all of us, and it starts with your Timmy paying his dues,” he said.

Scott’s face pulled into a scowl. He thrust his head forward vigorously, the plastic CRACK of Ren’s sunglasses on impact split through his ears as he saw the “Red” King stagger backwards.

Before his goons could decide their next moves Scott lifted his foot up behind him quickly, glad he’d decided to wear his heavier boots on a whim as they collided with an unfortunate set of unmentionables.

The owner of the unmentionables keeled over. He all but threw the axe out of his hands, which Scott graciously took for himself. He tore himself free and swung around, bringing the back of the axe down on Martyn’s bowed head. Purposefully omitting the sharpened blade from the equation.

Skull met stick with a loud THWACK; and Martyn’s body went limp. The Hand fell on his side into the snow with a muffled thump.

Scott admired his work for a moment and considered it even for the lingering purple bruise still on the side of his own face.

There was no time to waste though, he turned back to the remaining members of Dogwarts with a new feeling of control.

Ren’s face was still buried in his hands. No doubt sporting a wicked nosebleed from being head-butted. His glasses were nowhere to be found. Somewhere in the deep snow.

Scott’s attention turned to Skiz now. Who was in battle position.

It was not a fair fight by any means. The Red Army was decked out in their signature crimson dyed armor (not great for sneaking around but they weren’t much into that) and their iconic shields which Scott thought were a bit ugly.

Nobody was immune to quick thinking though. Even with all that armor, a man can’t be immune to a kick in the nuts.

Skizzle made the first move. He pushed off his heel and swung his sword vertically in Scott’s direction. The ladder, shieldless, jumped out of the way. Skizzle regained his composure and ran after him like a blood sniffing shark. Scott ran away from him in as dead a sprint that can be achieved in knee deep snow, letting his pursuer gain some momentum before he sharply turned around and plunged his axe blade into the thick wood of Skiz’s shield.

The aforementioned momentum caused Skiz to keep moving while his Sheild was ripped from his arm attached to the sharp blade of Scott’s (new) shiny axe. Both of them fell over in the snow.

Wanting to get the jump, Scott staggered to his feet and sat on top of Skizzle to keep him on the ground. They pushed back and forth with their respective blades until Scott was thrown off the other, who immediately slashed his sword at him but missed by a hair.

Scott rolled away clumsily with the shield on his arm and used the handle of his axe to stand up just in time for another barrage of slashes that audibly cut through the air. Scott blocked them with his shield and with the hilt of his axe, managing to repel his opponent for enough time to get his share of hits.

“You’re using the wrong side of the axe, man!” Skizzle pointed out after being beat a few times with the non-lethal side of Scott’s weapon, which he was using his armored forearms to fend off.

“Would you rather me use the other?” Scott replied.

They went back and forth in a struggle to gain control of their respective fights, of which had seen them travel to the corner of the Hobbits’ walls where two hills flattened out and created an amphitheater with a perfect stage in the center.

The metallic clashing of weapons filled the area, Skizzle managed to wrap Scott in a chokehold, the shield had been thrown to the sidelines amongst the struggle, with a blade growing ever nearer to his throat. Scott held off the oncoming sword by brute strength alone, his hand braced against his opponent’s forearm and shook with the effort.

“This is it for you,” Skizzle strained, “no more games,” he said.

Scott answered with a war cry. He knocked the other’s chest with his elbow and threw both of them forwards a bit, just enough to wriggle free and get away from the blade. While Skiz wasn’t guarding his midsection, Scott jabbed the handle of his weapon into the space between Skiz’s chest plate and armored leggings.

A breathless cough was all that came from the man behind him, followed by a drawn out whine, then a satisfying thud and the clunking of armor as it fell into the snow.

There was no place to celebrate his victory however, when a very angry, bloody nosed king strode up to the crime scene. Ren’s expression told Scott that he wasn’t a fun target to play with anymore. Tougher than he looked, perhaps.

The leader of Dogwarts trudged menacingly up to Scott, who made to raise his weapon but instead was greeted by a fist in his face. The force threw him to the ground, where Ren’s heavy red boot descended upon his chest. A blade sliced into the hard ground next to Scott’s ear. His axe was yanked from his hands and thrown somewhere behind them by Ren.

“Alright Major. Perhaps I underestimated your capabilities,” Ren practically spat, “It’s a shame really. You would have been such an attractive addition to the Red Army,” he said with a mocking sadness.

“That was supposed to be your sales pitch?” Scott strained.

Scott could feel rivulets of blood flowing down his face from his nostrils, it seeped into his mouth and tasted like he’d eaten iron shavings. His hands were clasped around Ren’s ankle and foot, trying to alleviate the stress that was on his rib cage. He liked being able to breathe after all.

“You’ve clearly proven too much for my army to handle,” Ren jerked Scott by the front of his shirt, as if he was the one to blame for his army’s failure.

“But I digress. I guess I’ll kill you now,” the Red King smiled down at him with a devious grin, and shoved him harshly to the ground.

Scott could see that his eyes were a striking yellow, set back in his head a bit so that they were perpetually shadowed by his eye sockets. Strands of white and brown hair fell around his face, and his right ear twitched upon his head.

His vision was swimming dangerously close to blacking out as Ren hoisted his weapon, a glimmering diamond axe with a gold accented handle, above his head. Scott shut his eyes and prepared for the cold hard inevitable when a loud POP ricocheted off the amphitheater walls. Followed by a dull plunk.

The axe fell from Ren’s hands like it was knocked away. He jumped like he’d been startled. His eyes were blown wide, and Scott thought he might look scared.

Ren raised a shaky hand to his right shoulder, turning it a bit so he could see, he gently touched the surface of his arm. His fingertips came back covered in a layer of blood.

He began to slowly turn around, Scott sat up on his elbow to follow his line of sight.

Standing in the entrance to the amphitheater, in the snow that had been disturbed by the previous altercation, was a furious looking Jimmy.

His hunting rifle was still raised and aimed at the Red King, smoke poured from the barrel and floated into the frigid air.

Ren stood up and faced Jimmy, an out of place smile gracing his countenance.

“Well! Looks like we have a full party now, I was wondering when the special guest was going to show up,” he teased.

“Your little friend here put up quite the fight,” Ren took Scott by the back of his hood and lifted him out of the obfuscating layer of snow.

“You just don’t stop talking do you,” Jimmy said sternly. He didn’t move an inch, and his finger was poised on the trigger of his father’s old gun.

Ren had stopped talking. He resorted to staring down his nose at the other man.

“Get out of my walls, Ren,” Jimmy demanded.

“Now hold on dude, we’re not finished here,” Ren prefaced.

“No, I think we are done here!” Jimmy raised his voice.

“You’re going put him down right now,” he ordered, “take your men, and leave my home,” Jimmy yelled.

“Or what?” Ren asked, although it was more of a last ditch effort than a promise of more to come.

“Or I aim for your head next time,” Jimmy deadpanned.

Ren chewed his bottom lip pensively, seeming to consider his options before rendering himself rightfully defeated. He nodded curtly, and tossed the battered Scott at Jimmy’s feet. He strode over to Skizzle and kicked him encouragingly in the side, gathering him up and then going to retrieve Martyn, whom he had Skizzle sling over his shoulder.

The Red Musketeers vacated the Hobbit’s walls, going through the door they broke down on the way in. Jimmy kept his rifle trained on them until he was sure they weren’t coming back. Then he turned back to Scott, shakily flipping the safety of the rifle back on.

“Scott,” Jimmy called out, “hey, can you hear me?” it was too familiar.

“I’m fine,” Scott assured; but his husband wasn’t having it. He took the other’s face in his hands gently and assessed the damage.

“I think you have a concussion,” Jimmy observed.

“I think I could have used your help a bit earlier,” Scott joked, but Jimmy didn’t smile, “I mean I knew you were a heavy sleeper but this is ridiculous”, he added.

Jimmy helped him up and he wobbled a bit before taking in the scene he’d made. A clear path of action stretched from the front door of Jimmy’s house to the Western Wall where the amphitheater was. Some of the snow was red with blood.

Jimmy took Scott’s arm and pulled him into a half embrace, “let’s go back inside. You’re freezing,” he whispered.

“Wait,” Scott said.

He started sifting through the snow, eventually pulling out the axe he’d stolen from Martyn. Ren had retrieved his and Skiz’s weapons before leaving. He held it up and flipped it over in his hands a few times gleefully. Then, he trudged over to Jimmy’s front door and found Ren’s discarded shades under some red stained snow. The right lens was cracked down the middle, hairline fractures branched off of it.

He held the sunglasses up for Jimmy to see with a proud grin, waving them around in the air.

“How’d you manage that?” Jimmy asked, dumbfounded.

“I went like BAP!” Scott articulated as he pretended to head butt Jimmy to demonstrate, “and they must have come right off! Look at that, a perfect trophy,” he bragged.

“You know, I didn’t question why he wasn’t wearing them because I didn’t think that even he was enough of a dick to wear sunglasses in the dead of night,” Jimmy said.

“Now, inside,” he pointed to the door.

#kingslayer au #half the server is in this one boys #3rd life smp #3rdlife #3rdlife smp #scott smajor #solidaritygaming #rendog #inthelittlewood #skizzleman #cas types

[offbrandmercyplates]

I should put a title here but I don't know what to put AAA

Tumblr User invader-amethyst: *Has a Greek Gods AU headcanon*

Emmibee: “Hey fic writers, feel free to write—”

Me: *Throws self into the computer screen Super Mario 64 style* I’VE BEEN SUMMONED.

So, yep! invader-amethyst sent in an ask with a Greek Gods AU idea, and Emmibee gave it a stamp of approval. Thus, I wrote. This one actually took a few tries to get started, but I think I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. See you at the bottom!

 ***

The Unseen One’s Lesson on Loneliness

The Underworld, for the most part, was made up of stone tunnels and caverns that were bathed a deep blue by the numerous crystals on the walls and ceilings. The entrances to these tunnels and caverns often shifted around, by their own will or the will of their king, which created an infinite combination of paths to wander and explore. Condensation would drip from stalactites into little puddles that never grew or shrank, and the drips and drops echoed throughout the Underworld in a way that soothed some and unnerved most. The goddess of spring was part of the former.

Kore was currently sitting in a cavern with a floor of damp, loamy soil. It had been the first gift given to her by the god of death in person, rather than secretly left for her to discover.

She enjoyed feeling the soil with her hands, watching it fall between her fingers and smooth over her palms. She was, admittedly, a bit indecisive, and had yet to choose what she would grow in this new garden first. Since food was ample in the Underworld, flowers seemed to be the best option, but which flowers should she grow first? Should she start small, with some bushes of roses? Something thematically appropriate to the setting, like some branches of belladonna? So many choices, but which would be just right?

Hence why she was simply enjoying the sensation of dirt on her skin; damp enough to form a shape when pressed, but dry enough not to stick.

A slight tickling sensation on her smallest finger, buried under the soil, made her lift her gaze to see a pale, wriggling string crawl its way across the dirt. A worm friend!

Kore flipped onto her stomach and gently patted the worm. Mm, yes. This was some good soil her husband got her if there were worm friends to find.

The little worm stilled at her touch. Its back end lifted and made what looked like a “come here” gesture before it disappeared under the dirt.

Curious, Kore carefully dug a hole around the worm until she found a small, dead plant. She cradled it in her hands. It was a limp, vine-like stem with wrinkly brown tubes clustered along it. There were no roots, suggesting it had been plucked before being buried there.

Kore smiled. Here was her answer.

She closed her eyes and felt energy, warmth, and light pulse into the plant, which she lowered to the ground so it could take root. She let it stand on its own once it had the strength, and she could hear the soft crinkle of petals regaining their vigor.

She opened her eyes and admired the clusters of red tube-shaped flowers on the bush. It wasn’t very big at all, especially in this huge cavern, but the fiery red blossoms seemed to glow like a real fire in the cool darkness. “Erica flowers,” she said. Then, calling over her shoulder: “In the language of flowers, they mean ‘loneliness’. I don’t suppose you knew that, did you?”

There was a clattering sound, like a rock balanced on a stalagmite had been knocked over suddenly. Then Hades was standing next to her. “How did you know I was here?”

“I always know when you’re here,” she replied, tapping the blooms and watching them bounce slightly at her touch.

“I was wearing my Helm of Darkness. Not even a god can sense me when I wear it.”

“Good thing I’m a goddess, then, eh?”

“Kore…” he stopped himself, and she looked up to see him worrying at the handle of his golden staff.

“It’s okay,” she grinned up at him. “I like it when you call me by my name.”

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. She patted the ground beside her, and after a moment, he carefully lowered himself next to her. “The flowers of loneliness…” he hummed to himself.

“Why was it down here?” Kore asked.

“…I was out one day,” he replied, “working on the surface, when I came across a bushel much like this one. My… knowledge of flowers is limited, so flowers shaped like these were strange. I felt a strong draw to them, so I took a branch-full, only to remember too late that I can’t touch most living things. It died in my hand.” He stared hard at the flowers. “The flowers of loneliness,” he repeated. “I suppose it makes some sense.”

“What does?”

“We are alone when we die. A fitting end for a flower meant to symbolize this truth.”

Kore frowned. “Well…” she paused a moment. “I don’t know about that. Look at how many of them there are.” She took his boney hand and guided it to the cluster of red. “You can’t really say they’re alone when they’re bunched together like this. And even when you touched them, they all went together.” His fingertip brushed a blossom, and it didn’t wither. “So they might feel lonely, but they’re not actually as alone as they think they are.” Her hand closed around his and she looked into his eye sockets. “They’re not alone.”

The thrumming echo of dripping water rang in the silence as they looked at each other. Eye sockets, one closed and one wide open, stared into a pair of eyes full of life. His jaw bone was slightly slack, and her smile was warm and gentle.

After a moment, her smile turned a little mischievous. “So… why were you wearing your Helm of Darkness?”

Hades’ skull flushed. “I-it’s not strange for me to have it!”

“In your own territory?”

“I—! Well—! It… may be a habit at this point… when I watch you… it’s not creepy!”

“It isn’t,” Kore laughed. “It just means you’re shy.”

“The god of death is not shy!”

“The god of death is, however, someone who talks about himself in the third person.”

“That means the god of death knows that he’s important.”

The goddess of spring leaned lightly against her husband. “That, he is.”

“Strange woman.” He took a stronger hold of her hand.

“Stubborn old man.” She bumped his shoulder with her head.

***

A major inspiration for the flower I chose for this story came from the second Black Butler Musical, which featured a deep theme about Erica flowers and the loneliness of death. Erica flowers are also called heaths (which are different from but related to heather flowers), and after multiple Google searches, it seems the “fire heath” is the color that means loneliness. Most Erica flowers are white, purple, or pink, but those colors are generally more positive (purple does often mean solitude, though).

Roses, as we know, mean love, which would be perfect for Kore and Hades being in love (and married-ish?); and belladonnas are also called deadly nightshade, which is why it would have been thematic to the setting of the Underworld.

Kore calls Hades her husband, but I’m not actually sure if they’re married in our human sense of the term. Would they have an official “tying of the knot” or would it be more like just something they agree on that’s acknowledged by all the gods?

Where are all the spirits in the Underworld? … Ssh…

*points at the worm* WORM FRIEND! WORM FRIEND!

I originally wanted to include this somewhere in the story, but I imagine that Hades found the Erica flower the day before he saw Kore for the first time. Perfect timing!

Speaking of Hades and Kore, Hades would usually wear his Helm of Darkness when watching Kore from the shadows, and even though she’s bound to the Underworld now, the habit of feeling unseen is hard to break (he’s called the Unseen One for a reason, after all.) How is Kore able to sense him, even when most gods wouldn’t be able to? Perhaps something deeply entwines their souls, deeper than the magic of the helm.

Alright, I think those were the major things I wanted to say. With Ms. Emmibee’s permission, I’ll be posting this to my AO3 and FFN accounts soon. Thanks to invader-amethyst for sending out the spark for this story, and of course to Ms. Emmibee for coming up with this whole AU (and the AUs within that AU). I’ll see you around. Until then!

~~~~~

AAAAA I love this so much!!!!!!

1) I love how you always put meanings into the flowers!!

2) They’re definitely married in some sense; probably had a small, private ceremony with just them and some officiant. Or do gods need an officiant? They pretty much ARE the highest authority.

3) WORM FRIEND

4) I feel like Gaster is just going to be awkward no matter what universe he’s in. Sweet awkward man.

5) Please do post it! I can’t wait to see it!!!!!

Many thanks again for this wonderful story!!!

#OBMPfanfic #yours the author #also i love the 'stubborn old man' bit #so lovely #submission #greek gods au

[vannahfanfics]

One Good Turn Deserves Another

Category: Angst 

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Eri

Additional Tags: Vigilante!Class 1-A

Trigger warning for themes of child abuse!

Izuku’s lips were curled into a cold, smug smile as his bright eyes beheld the lofty penthouse suite displayed by the floor-to-ceiling glass panes framing the luxurious condominiums nestled between the beach and the sprawled city complex. Izuku perched on the balcony railing of the adjacent condominiums’ penthouse complex that he was currently sharing with twenty other young vigilantes looking to score a quick buck in the chaotic, unforgiving, cold-hearted world they lived in. They’d all seen terrible, horrible things that prompted them to turn their backs on society’s definition of “hero” and carve their paths. To this day, Izuku marveled at the miracle of their coming together to form one of Japan’s most notorious heist organizations. 

“Has she left yet?” Katsuki grunted as he strode out of the open set of glass doors. His heavy boots thunked against the smooth stone bottom of the balcony. Izuku’s emerald eyes remained fixed on the spread of clear glass several yards away, particularly on the thirty-something-year-old woman running a blow dryer through her voluminous brown hair. Izuku was mildly impressed with her haircare routine; even from the considerable distance, he could see the ripples of her hair gloss with the fluorescents’ unflattering light. Her bathroom was as large as the standard bedroom, but that didn’t mean the condos invested in slightly better lightbulbs. 

“Not yet,” Izuku responded without looking at his number-one partner-in-crime. “We still have fifteen minutes until her suitor is supposed to pick her up.” Katsuki only grunted in response, watching with disdain as the older woman smoothed nonexistent creased from the sapphire blue dress that hugged her figure in every scandalous way possible. Izuku could almost hear her six-inch-heels clacking as she exited the bathroom to cross through the walls. She disappeared into the bowels of the suite to head towards the penthouse door. 

“What’s this broad do again that makes her richer than God?” 

“She’s the assistant CEO of a software development company specializing in programming high-tech support items.” Indeed, the infamous burglars had targeted her after multiple magazine spotlights and television specials revealed her lavish life’s intimate details, down to a complete tour of her pompous penthouse home. The exposés had been mainly focused on her widowed status, chronicling her tumultuous rise to fame after her husband’s sudden death after only a few years of blissful marriage. Izuku remembered the bitter tears streaming from her eyes as she reminisced about her loving husband. The waterworks had cemented in his mind that she was the perfect victim for their newest scheme. 

Katsuki and Izuku both straightened slightly as the receivers in their ears buzzed with static. 

“Hey, hey!” Izuku could hear Denki’s broad grin in the fuzzy audio of the transceiver. “The John’s in the building and heading up to the penthouse.” Izuku pressed the respond button to answer, still crouching on the railing by balancing on his metal-plated boots. Denki always served as their mole, because his easygoing and sunny personality just lured people into a false sense of security so easily.

“Is it time?” Hanta called as he poked his head out of the open glass doors. 

“Almost.” Hanta stuck out a thumbs-up before vanishing into the room, shouting for Ochako and Mina to go out onto the balcony for Phase II of the rob-the-rich-lady plan. Ochako trotted out onto the lengthy stone structure, chewing on a licorice candy as she leaned against the railing beside Izuku. 

“If only I’d lived like that, life could’ve been so much different,” the brunette mourned sourly as she tore off a large chunk of the red candy and crushed it between her teeth with excessive force. Izuku laughed dryly with a nod of agreement. 

“I would feel bad because she’s a single mother, but wait until the world sees the reports of employee abuse we mailed into the news networks,” he laughed gleefully. Sure, they stole and occasionally beat people to a bloody pulp, but only people who deserved it. Many of the common folk revered them as a troupe of Robin Hoods, stealing from the obnoxiously wealthy and abusive to aid the poor and struggling. At least, that’s what many of them told themselves to justify their questionable deeds. Try as they like to harden their hearts to their bitter realities, sometimes their human sides tried to nose back into their lives. 

“She’s leaving,” came Denki’s quick report in their transponders. Izuku could hear girlish giggling and the baritone droning of a man in the background of the audio. Denki, disguised in a janitor’s outfit, whistled as stood with his mop and side-eyed them. “Heading up. Be there or be square.” 

“All right. Denki’s moving in to disable the motion sensors,” Izuku reported. Mina had joined them on the balcony, and she enthusiastically punched the air with her fists. 

“All right! Let’s bleed this bitch for everything she has!” the pink girl crowed. Izuku languidly stood up on the metal railing, balancing his center to stand at his full height with only the thin rail cementing him to the building. Ochako skipped over to touch Mina with her pink finger pads, and the girl immediately floated up a few inches from the balcony, giggling as she did so. 

“I can never get used to how weird this feels!” Mina trilled, laughing joyfully as Hanta pushed the back of her head to make her body somersault in the air slowly. As she righted herself, Izuku grabbed her gently by the elbow to drift her to the balcony rail. “All right! The Mina Rocket is ready to go!” she declared. Izuku grinned widely, then flung Mina to send her sailing across the gap between the buildings. The few patrons lingering by the pool failed to notice the pink vigilante floating in the sky in the dark fringe of the lofty condos. Katsuki snorted as Mina bumped into the window with a gentle smack. She hurriedly grasped onto the building’s thin stone rim before she bounced off. She hovered beside the building, staring at the red blip of light within the condo’s dark recesses that indicated the security system was still armed. 

“How are you doing, Denki?” 

“Me ‘n Yaomomo are almost in position.” Momo had also been deployed to the condominium, posing as a member of the cleaning staff. By now, the security officer should be passed out from a sleeping drought so their bonafide genius could replace the camera feeds with loops and replaced footage to eliminate the evidence of their involvement before it even existed. The video would show that Denki and Momo had gotten off on entirely different floors, when in fact, they would proceed to the penthouse to assist in the heist. No one would ever be the wiser that two moles had been planted in the staff. 

There was a reason they’d evaded Interpol, the Japanese Bureau of Investigation, and the Hero Commission for so long, after all. The young group of vigilantes dotted all their I’s, crossed all their T’s, and checked them twice. 

“The cameras are set,” Momo reported, whispering not to wake the slumbering guard. “The footage is good for about an hour. Let’s make the most of it.” 

“Almost done,” Denki hummed in the same channel. A faint crackling of electricity sounded as he essentially fried the security system controls. Faintly, Izuku could see the red light blip green. 

As soon as Momo and Denki reported in, Mina melted the glass with her acid, reducing it to a goop steaming on the wooden floorboards. Mina worked quickly and efficiently to carve a large hole into the window, then daintily stepped into the living room to tut at the blackened, smoking area rug. As soon as she safely entered the penthouse, Ochako released her Quirk, allowing Mina the land on the plush carpet and appraise the lofty home. 

“All right, guys, let’s move in.” Izuku used his Quirk to propel himself across the divide, bending the railing as he blasted off it. He’d bend it back later. He landed deftly in the center of the living room, clicking his tongue at the sheer obnoxiousness of the interior decor. It probably cost more than all of her employees combined made in a year. Disgusted, Izuku made a point to bend the metal floor lamp in half, exposing the wire to make sparks jump from the now-frayed metal pieces. While the others quietly used their Quirks to jump into the penthouse and Denki picked the lock so he and Momo could stroll in, Izuku set to ransacking the place to discover where the software mogul hid her stacks of cash. The others began pilfering everything valuable in sight; Tooru and Asui sprinted to the master bedroom, keen on scoring the jewelry the woman had been sure to show off in her many interviews. 

Izuku ignored the triumphant hoots and hollers as he meandered down a hallway. Just to be thorough, he opened the side closet, disinterestedly pulling out the Egyptian sheets of every color and numerous comforters to fling them into a pile on the floor. Nothing hid behind the cottony masses, and he almost abandoned the effort until he spied a suspiciously square seam in the wood peeking out. 

“Hello,” he grinned and crouched down to pry the false floor up with his fingers. Izuku had been expecting a hidden stash of cash or coins, perhaps a safe containing embezzlement or fraud documents. 

He was not expecting a pair of bright red eyes and a pale round face to be peeking up at him. 

Izuku froze. He blinked, and the pale face shrouded by the darkness blinked back. He continued to hold up the small nook entrance, oblivious to Katsuki stomping down the hall toward him. 

“Oi, what the fuck are you- what the fuck?” The blond hissed in a breath, making the small form within the crawlspace cringe in fright. With a flip of his index finger, Izuku bid Katsuki to turn on the hallway light. As he complied, the white light cascaded over Izuku’s hunched form to crash into the small space, illuminating a very tiny, disheveled little girl. Her red, puffy eyes slowly blinked as she regarded Izuku with a mixture of curiosity and fear. 

“Are you here to steal me?” 

Izuku almost lost it. Literally. He become so infuriated that his Quirk jumped out, sending red streaks and green lighting blazing across his skin. Clenching his teeth hard and breathing steadily through his nose, he managed to force his power back into control and give the little girl a strained smile. It was just so hard not to go ballistic and tear the entire penthouse upside down, because this was the most pathetic little girl Izuku had ever seen. Her white-gray hair framed her round face and her red eyes glittered like blood moons in the light. A little horn protruded from her forehead. Why the hell was this child locked in a crawlspace in a goddamn hallway closet while the penthouse owner gallivanted off on a booty call? 

“Yeah,” Izuku smiled pleasantly. “Yeah,” he repeated, convincing himself to commit to the radical change in plans. “That’s right.” His heart crushed in on itself as her eyes widened and she beamed brightly. She flung herself forward with a delighted squeal to wrap her thin arms around Izuku’s neck, burning her face into his sternum. The girl immediately began bawling loudly, spreading snot and tears all over the spandex of his suit. 

“Ungh… I… I’m so happy… I-I’ve been waiting so long for someone to know I was here… That I existed…” Izuku didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had no earthly idea she was in the penthouse, let alone related to the woman. “Mommy… Mommy locks me in here because she doesn’t want people to know. She hates me; she tells me so. She says I need to suffer, so I’m locked away to be forgotten. Just like everyone forgot Daddy, she says,” she blubbered between wails and cries. Izuku’s hands remained limply at his sides, too stunned with the cascade of events to properly comfort the girl. Her crying had attracted the attention of his cohorts, and they crammed into the small hallway to observe the strange happenings. She began to sob harder. 

“I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean to make Daddy go away. It was an accident. An accident.” She palmed her small horn, sniveling, and it took Izuku a few seconds to puzzle out that the little girl’s Quirk had likely manifested and killed her father. It wasn’t common, but certainly not unheard of. Children with powerful, uncontrollable Quirks posed real and present dangers. The girl sniffled as she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Mommy says it’s my fault. She says that my punishment is to be locked away and feel what it’s like to be forgotten. She tells me that one day she’ll forget me too, and I’m going to die, all alone.” 

Katsuki began cursing profusely under his breath, sparks popping from his palms as his fury mounted. 

“This is fucking ridiculous; are we gonna fucking stand for this? This bitch has her daughter locked in a fucking hole in the wall and is out there schmoozing some fuckin’ asshole-! I can’t; I fuckin’ can’t, I need- Ooooooh…!” As he grew more and more enraged, he stomped off into a side bedroom and began flinging furniture around with his herculean strength. Izuku had regained some semblance of his wits, so he hugged the small girl tightly to his person and petted her long silvery hair. Suddenly, she blinked at him. 

“Wait… You aren’t here to kill me, are you? Did my mom… Did she finally…?” As her red eyes flooded with fresh tears, Izuku hurriedly shushed her and pressed his cheek against the side of her head. 

“No, no, that’s not why we’re here at all.” 

“That’s right! We’re thieves!” Tooru beamed theatrically as she jumped over, waving her gloves around ecstatically. The little girl’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head upon witnessing an invisible woman for the first time. “We’re gonna steal you away to happier life!” The girl’s eyebrows shot up, and she craned her head to look at Izuku. 

“That’s right!” he confirmed with a cheesy grin. “Stealing is what burglars do best, right?” The girl squealed as he hoisted her up with his hands under her armpits. Her little legs kicked happily at the sudden rush of air around her. With a smile, Izuku plopped her against him, one beefy arm hooked under her comparably tiny frame. Her little hands rested on his broad shoulder, and her bright smile illuminated the condominium better than the sun ever could. When a few more loud crashes, thumps, and curses drifted down the hall, she looked worriedly towards the room Katsuki had stamped into. 

“Is he okay?” 

“Yeah, he’s just sorting out his feelings,” Denki laughed as he sidled up. “Hiya! What’s your name, squirt?” he asked as he playfully shook her hand. 

“Eri,” she giggled. 

“Eri! What a cute name,” Kyoka appraised with a nod. The others greeted her jovially as Izuku carried her into the living room. Her eyes widened when she beheld the overturned and broken furniture. 

“What are you all looking for besides me?” 

“What kind of burglars would we be if we didn’t take your mom’s money?” Shoto quipped monotonously as he resumed emptying drawers. Izuku flushed with embarrassment at the boy’s bluntness, and Eri screwed her face up into a frown. 

“Mommy isn’t a nice person. She takes money from the company and robs the workers; I hear her say so on the phone. She laughs about it.” Eri glanced concernedly up at Izuku. “What are you going to do with the money?” 

“Uh! Oh, um, we’re not gonna do anything bad,” he reassured as he strolled over to the gaping hole in the window. “We’re honest burglars. We steal from bad people and share it with good people.” It was true. They’d made anonymous donations to charities and underfunded schools and local businesses, built a children’s park overnight for a low-income neighborhood, and committed countless other good-Samaritan deeds. Of course, some of that they pocketed for personal interests and paying off essential figures, but hey, it was an investment for more heists and more good deeds, in the long run. At his explanation, Eri hummed satisfactorily and hugged his neck, her cheek squishing against his. 

“I see. That’s nice!” She then inhaled slightly as the wind whistled through the window, ruffling her hair and nightgown. Izuku smiled sympathetically as she gulped, peeking down at the ground so very far below. “Are we… Going to jump?” 

“Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s how I came, you know. We can make it! I’m going to hold on real tight to you,” he reassured her jovially. Eri nodded slowly, rotating her head to peek back at his friends, who had resumed rummaging around the apartment. Katsuki had satiated his ire and stalked back into the main room to oversee the operation. “Don’t worry about them. They’re just finishing the job. They’ll probably stay a little while, because… Well, as we like to say, one good turn deserves another.” 

The tone in the room shifted immediately. It grew dead silent as Izuku’s unspoken order dropped the temperature of the room several degrees. His grin and emerald eyes were eerily bright as he eyed them over Eri’s head. “Right, guys?” 

“Right,” Tenya whistled as he picked up the sheets in the hall and began shredding them into thin strips of cloth. Silence descended as the vigilantes began searching the penthouse once more, but their minds were no longer on cash and evidence, but something else entirely. Eri blinked repeatedly as she struggled to grasp the shift in the tension and gave Izuku an inquisitive stare. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Izuku smiled and patted the top of her head. “When tomorrow morning comes, everyone will know you exist.” Eri’s blood moon eyes widened as a big grin slowly spread across her round face. 

“Really? You mean it?” 

“Every word,” he promised. “You gotta swear, though, to keep a secret.” Eri nodded vigorously. “You can’t tell anyone about who rescued you. It’ll be a secret between just us, okay? Pinky-swear.” Izuku held up his scarred pinky, and Eri readily looped her tiny one with his, linking them in an eternal promise. “Good. Remember, one good turn deserves another. We saved you, so you help us keep our identities safe so we can keep helping other people.” With that, Izuku hugged her tight and activated his Quirk to once more spring between the two buildings. She inhaled wondrously as the wind rushed through her hair, and looked up to see the starry night sky after so long deprived of their soft, simple light. 

~~~~~~~~~~

As Izuku had promised, Eri’s story was blown wide open alongside the software mogul’s scandalous finances and business practices. Izuku and the others had left Eri asleep in the penthouse suite with all their documents and scathing evidence of Eri’s abuse and the money the woman had stolen from her business partner. They dropped an anonymous call to the police to inform them of the girl’s location, and then retreated to a safe distance within the city to watch the media massacre unfold. 

The woman was discovered first. She was brought out by police not visibly harm but clearly scared within an inch of her life. Being suspended from a penthouse with only a decorative chair and some Egyptian cotton sheets to anchor you to safety would do that to a person. Next, when Izuku and the others dropped the call, the flocks of the press began to babble theories as the police swarmed into the adjacent penthouse. They’d also given anonymous information to the news media, who immediately jumped on the tragic tale of the little girl. Eri’s eyes were huge as the cop carried her carefully out of the condo, amazed by all the noise and activity developing around her. Izuku could just tell by the teary smile on her face that she was thinking, They know I’m here. They’re happy I’m safe. 

When one of the reporters shoved a microphone into her face and demanded to know who her rescuers and mother’s assailants were, Eri just smiled sheepishly. 

“It’s a secret. I can’t tell. You know, one good turn deserves another.” 

Izuku grinned to himself, biting down on his bottom lip in satisfaction. 

Sure, they weren’t saints. They’d stolen, and assaulted, and publicly slandered plenty. However, seeing that little girl’s smile broadcast on the big screen for the world to see, ready to leave an arduous life behind her and step out into the light, reminded Izuku of why he’d turned to such an existence in the first place. 

Real heroes made real change through whatever means necessary. Because, as he said… One good turn deserves another, and one bad deed brings down righteous fury.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​

#class 1-A #izuku midoriya #vigilante!izuku #vigilante!midoriya #vigilante!class 1-a #eri #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero #mha fanfic #my hero academia fanfic #mha fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfiction

[ethanfreakingdolan]

The Halloween story👀

As soon as Arlandria was adopted at the end of September she decided she was going to dress up as Grayson. Complete with his real heavyweight championship belt (she was under strict instructions to leave it with Y/N). Her gloves were custom made to look exactly like his. 

She practically bounced into the school that morning, dragging her Mama behind her dressed as Morticia Addams, they were supposed to be going out later and Grayson was going to be Gomez. Beaming about how cute her baby girl looked. The rest of the class walked in dressed as an amalgamation of princesses and monsters. 

“What are you supposed to be then Arly?” Jackson, he was dressed in all black with a mask to make him look like the Scream killer. the kid had probably never even seen Scream. 

“I’m my Papa, he’s a boxer,” she held up the belt in her tiny hands, “see he’s the heavyweight champion.” She felt so smug showing off her Papa’s accomplishments.

“Seriously? You know girls are weak and make bad boxers right?” 

“No, they aren’t! Girls make great boxers!” She was getting a little wound up now, all the girl power her parents had taught her starting to come out. 

“Girls suck!” He was right up in her face now, but he was soon on the floor. The impact from the heavyweight belt hitting his cheek knocking him down.

“They aren’t!”

“Arlandria Jane Dolan!” She just got full named by her Mama, in front of her entire class and then walked to the Principals office. Where they sat together in uncomfortable silence until Grayson arrived. 

Y/N explained to Grayson that Arly had hit a kid with the belt and shoved the belt into his chest before walking back to her classroom. Immense concern all she could feel, her kid at the principal's office. In her school, with her boss. What if this came back on her? Makes her look like she can’t even control her own child let alone a whole class of them?

~~~~~~

“Papa I promise I didn’t even hit him that hard!” She tried to defend herself.

“Oh really? Because it looks like he has the words heavyweight imprinted on his face sweetheart.” This made her get embarrassed. He had a point, little Jackson did have the words on his face from how hard she had hit him.

They got called into the office with Jackson and his father. His father dressed in a business suit topped with a face like stone after being pulled out of his office. Grayson still in his shorts and vest from the gym, creating quite the contrast.

The principal asked for Jackson’s side of the story first,

“Well I asked what her costume was and she told me she was a boxer, like her daddy and I said that it was cool and then she hit me!” Arlandria was getting wound up again. For multiple reasons.

“My Papa, I’m dressed like my Papa. Not my daddy, he was mean Papa isn’t,” she whispered only for Grayson to hear, although he was unsure if she was telling the others in the room or herself. He knew immediately that the other child was lying they’d taught her better than that. Mr Lee then asked for Arlandria’s side,

“He asked what my costume was so I told him I was dressed as my Papa and then he told me girls were too weak to be boxers so I said they weren’t and then he tolded me that girls suck and then I hit him,” as she got to the end she started to get embarrassed again and was looking at the floor. 

“Well, those are quite differing stories, I would usually call the teacher in at this point but I have a feeling one party may have a problem with that,” he turned to Jackson’s father, not wanting to deal with accusations that Mrs Dolan was showing a bias. 

“No! No, bring the woman in I want to hear her side.” Not what they were expecting. 

~~~~~~

The fear Y/N felt when walking into the principal's office was as though she was the one being punished. She felt like she was the eight-year-old about to get told off. 

When they asked for her side she understood the smug look she was getting from Jackson’s father he thought he’d won either way. If she said she heard Arlandria being riled up then she was just defending her daughter, if she didn’t see anything then she was incompetent. 

“Well I was attending to another child at the time but I heard Jackson say ‘Girls suck’ and then Arlandria hit him, so I can only assume from what I know about both the children that he been winding her up prior.“ 

“What do you mean ‘what you know about both children’?” Jackson’s father enquired.

“I know that although she is being raised in a boxing household she has been taught that she should not hit anyone and she wouldn’t unless provoked, and I also know that this is not the first time that Jackson has been in here for an incident like this.” She tried to say he’s a little shit in the nicest way possible.

 Both children were told to write the other a letter of apology and dismissed early. 

~~~~~~

The car with Grayson and Arlandria was dead silent. Arlandria not wanting to say anything to get her in more trouble and Grayson wanting her to sit in her embarrassment for a little while. They pulled into the gym and Grayson turned to his baby girl and sighed.

“Now I know that you told the truth in the office earlier, and I’m proud of you for doing that even when it meant admitting you did something wrong. However, that doesn’t undo the fact you should not have hit him. At all. It’s a pretty conflicting situation because on one hand I’m really disappointed that you hit someone but on the other, I’m really proud of you for standing up against that little prick. So, I’m going to take you into the gym and let you get some anger out and then we’re gonna get some ice cream and you’re going to tell your Mama that I told you off more than I did.” The eight-year-old was confused and taken back by his proposal. She nodded and they walked into the gym.

Straight to one of the corners with a punching bag he got her all properly prepared and started showing her the proper technique. 

“Right baby, don’t tuck your thumbs into your fist you’ll get hurt.” She starts hitting properly and Grayson can feel his heart swelling with pride watching her. Until he hears her mumbling under her breath. 

“Stupid Jackson and his stupid costume calling me stupid names. Meany buttface.” He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at the childish names. However, he couldn’t say she was wrong, he also thought that Jackson was a ‘meany buttface’.

Ethan walked out of his office and she showed him how she could hit, getting in a bit more practice while Gray explained what happened. Ethan was impressed, to hit him and leave an imprint? He was proud in a way only an uncle is allowed to be.

“Papa, I’m not angry anymore. Can we get ice cream now?” He told her they could and they were off to the parlour. 

They were eating their ice cream when Arlandria asked if next time she gets angry she can go to the gym with Gray because it helped. He agreed quickly hoping it would work as a deterrent to her hitting kids again. Also letting her know that if she hit another kid she wouldn’t be getting ice cream, she’d be getting punished properly.

He couldn’t help but worry about his wife though, he had known her for a decade so he knew exactly what was going through her head. She would be panicking about how this reflected on her career. He checked the time and realised she’d be almost home wanting cuddles and food, so he would deliver.

Gray got Arly in the car and headed out to pick up take out, getting Y/N’s favourite. She’d need it.

~~~~~~

The devoted husband pulled into his driveway to see his wife still sitting in her car. Crying into her long black Morticia wig. He sent Arlandria over to knock on her car window, in an attempt to cheer her up. Once the woman spotted the small girl she wiped her eyes and opened the door. She picked Arly up for a big cuddle telling her how much she loved her. 

Moving into the lounge the two girls found Grayson laying out the food they bought, they sat and ate dinner as a family, in peace. 

“I know I was really naughty today and I’m super duper sorry, but do I still get to go trick-or-treating?” Arlandria asked her Mama as she went shy, her head hung low and cheeks bright red.

“Sure you can sweetheart, you were standing up for yourself and what you believe in but you also know you shouldn’t have reacted the way you did. I’m proud of you for telling the truth to Principal Bell. Even if you had to admit you did something wrong.” Grayson sprinted upstairs to put his costume on before heading out to join the rest of his family. Cameron would be so impressed when she heard about the mark Arly left.  

~~~~~~

Two full pillowcases later they returned home. After putting Arlandria to bed, Y/N and Grayson decided to go sit in their own room. They stuck a film on to try and act like everything was normal, but that didn’t last long before Y/N was crying again. Sobbing to her husband about her insecurities. Asking if he thought she was a bad mother, which he shot down the thought of immediately. 

“You are the best mother she has ever had and will ever have. Arly loves you so much and adores you, that little girl isn’t sure who she wants to be more, you, me or Milo from Atlantis.” It was true, she adored her Mama and Papa, but she did also adore Atlantis. 

“I just feel like I failed you know? I’m a teacher, it’s my job to teach these kids right from wrong and my kid, the one that lives with me hit another kid. She got taken to the principal’s office. That feels so shitty. I just feel maybe she’d have been better off going to another home.” One thing Grayson loved about his wife was how open she could be about this. It took a very long time to get there but now he almost can’t shut it off.

“You know how when we first got together you were crazy shy and now you’re still shy but a hell of a lot less, yeah?” Y/N nodded slightly confused about where he was going with this, “Well, I can see the same thing happening with Arly, because of you. She’s talking more and more, she was play fighting with Ethan the other day. A month ago she wouldn’t even look at him for more than five seconds! Her and Cam’s girls are almost inseparable, April told me the other day they wished we found her sooner because she’s so much fun. Her exact next words were ‘she’s so much funner than Bailey, Octavious and Marcus, boys suck’, and Arly loves all of them so so much as well. She’s started calling Octavious, Tay! He won’t even let Ethan call him anything other than Oc or Octavious and he’s the kid's dad! Bailey tried to call him Tay and got hit. Us adopting her is the best thing that ever happened to us and to her.” Grayson had made some solid points that she couldn’t argue with really.

“Speak of the devil, I see you Arly, peeking around the door missy.” She pushed the door open a little more so they could see her better and took a deep breath.

“I’m super duper duper sorry I hit Jackson, I shouldn’t have done it and I know that. Although he wound me up and may or may not have deserved it I still shouldn’t have hit him. You two are the best parents I’ve ever had and I’m really happy here. I’m sorry if I messed anything up for you.” The fragile girl was on the brink of tears as Grayson pulled her into their bed. 

“You haven’t messed anything up for anyone baby girl, the fact that you know that prick deserved to get hit but you still shouldn't have shows me that me and your Mama have done something right. A month ago you wouldn’t have even told him what your costume was, I’m so incredibly proud of you. We are never letting you go Arly, you’re a Dolan now through and through.” 

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins imagine

[ngame989]

“Christumpmasday” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 4

Writing: @ngame989

Art: @toxicpsychox (make sure to follow him for bonus pics from the story!)

Editing: @toxicpsychox, @seddm

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: The holiday season is upon Earthni, and as her 16th birthday draws nearer, the blended festivities are leaving Star feeling down while they scramble to set up everything in time for the perfect Christumpmasday celebration.

Comic Page

Masterpost

Also doubles as a late @wholesome-week Holiday submission!

See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“Is it… a dragon-cycle?”

“Nachos is too protective, if we got a second one she wouldn’t get along with them.” Marco ran his fingers carefully through the branches of the pine tree in front of him, giving it a gentle shake. Half of the needles fell to the ground.

“True, true. OK, what about, like, a cool sword or something?”

His focus was already on to the fourth tree in the row, ruling it out just as easily as the previous three. Disappointing. Didn’t anyone know how to properly maintain a healthy and good-looking evergreen? “Star, that’s just what you got me for my birthday. I’m not going to tell you your gift early. Besides, would you even want a sword? We can look for one sometime.”

“I’m good, just wondering. Just give me ooooone more guess… your abs?” He lurched forward in surprise, his reaction to the comment earning him a faceful of foliage. Shaking the needles out of his hood and spitting a few from his lips, he finally turned his full attention to his girlfriend, studying her as she leaned against the fence on the perimeter of the farm. She’d donned one of his hoodies overtop of her blue narwhal-embroidered outfit as emergency protection on the unexpectedly chilly day, as California’s relatively warm winters had mostly carried over to their slice of Earthni. Adorable rosy hues surrounded the heart marks on her cheeks, and he wasn’t quite sure it was from the cold - he was much more certain where his own flush was coming from, at least. “What? It’s super freezing and I’m super cold and I super do not like wood. I needed a distraction and my mind wandered back to the Neverzone after I mentioned the sword.”

“Well, don’t worry, because I found the one!” He beckoned her over with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and pointed to the one in front of him. Relatively tall and thick by Christmas tree standards, but it would be sure to look fantastic in the monster temple foyer for the first annual culturally blended holiday. Why it had been dubbed Christumpmasday, and why the rest of the town had gone along with it, Marco might never know, but he was still excited no matter how unwieldy its name might be. She took his hand when she got beside him, but kept moving until she crossed fully in front of him, gently tugging his arm around her. Marco smiled and took the hint, wrapping himself snugly around her and tucking his chin into the crook of her shoulder; despite growing a bit in recent months, he was still a ways off from being a full head above her. “Better?”

She briefly nuzzled her cheek into his through his hood. “Much. Sorry for being a party pooper today… I just want to have a normal holiday, and my birthday, without having to worry about appeasing a giant angry log. Is that too much to ask?” There was a fire in her sparkling sapphire eyes that Marco recognized all too well: this was really bothering her.

As best he could, he threaded their gloved fingers together and reassuringly squeezed both the hand and the hug. “Maybe the Stump isn’t even around anymore… still, better to be safe than sorry for this year at least. Look on the bright side, if it isn’t an issue anymore, then next year we can just do what we do best here on Earth: keep traditional holidays around as an excuse to eat and have fun!” Star snorted in laughter and turned to face him with a smile, hesitant but genuine all the same, and he returned a sympathetic one of his own. “If you really want a hint about my gift, it’s something we’ll get to enjoy a lot when we get to hang out after all this is over.”

“Well if it involves spending time with you, then I know I’ll love it,” she teased, and the cold bothered Marco a bit less.

The moment was interrupted when Rafael entered his peripheral vision with an unfamiliar woman behind him. “Ah, there you two are. I have been looking all over the place!”

The woman, taller than Marco’s dad and almost as brawny and sporting a stereotypical lumberjack outfit, jogged ahead of Rafael, seemingly unbothered by the cold. She patted Marco’s head as he and Star scrambled to split apart. “I’m Dee, nice to meet you.”

“Ooooooh, I thought ‘Dees Trees’ was just wordplay,” Star responded, shaking her hand after Marco, who giggled in response.

“Well aren’t you two just the most precious things? So your dad here tells me that you’re looking for a tree?”

“Yep, this one,” Marco pointed to the one in front of him and the sign marking it at $65.

“That one’s certainly a beaut. Tell ya what, it’s on the house. As thanks for this whole Cleaving thing - best thing to happen to my business since that household tree burglary spree in ‘89!” she said jovially.

Star bristled a bit inside the hoodie. “You don’t have to do that-”

“Please, I insist.”

“We’re fine, thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“I said we’ll pay.”

Marco’s eyes bounced back and forth following the two as Dee remained fairly calm while the frustration in Star’s voice visibly mounted.

The heated exchange was interrupted by a loud rev; the three turned to see Rafael already midway into cutting down the chosen tree with his chainsaw. Dee helped the man steady it as it was fully detached from the base and he let out a victory shout while turning off his chainsaw. “This is my favorite part of the holiday season,” he chuckled, patting the handle on the tool.

Star sighed heavily. “We’ll take it, then. Thank you.” Marco was still worried by her sulliness; he’d ask her about it later.

“Take care, now!” Dee said as they hauled the tree to the Diaz car. Once it was secured to the roof, Marco hopped halfway into the backseat before Star grabbed his hand, holding him still. He looked up at her from halfway inside the vehicle and saw her reading something on her phone.

“Everything OK, kids?” his dad called from the front seat.

“Eclipsa just texted me, my dad’s been swinging around the temple using the holiday lights like vines to hang them up and he hurt himself.”

“River…” Marco facepalmed. “I told him I’d help with that!”

“Hold on, she just sent a correction.” Her brow scrunched up worryingly as she read the words. The tension in her shoulders finally released after a few seconds as she rolled her eyes. “Apparently those were two separate things. Lights are all set, but he sprained his back falling off the ceiling while trying to race Meteora around the castle after, so now he can’t go get a ceremonial stump like he does every year.”

“Maybe we can just see if we can take the one from our tree?” Marco offered.

“Good idea. But we’re paying for it this time,” Star insisted, puffing up her cheeks.

She took his hand and led him back into the farm to the same spot they’d been, stopping dead in their tracks at seeing the sign which had an additional description written on in red ink. “Don’t risk angering the stump! VERY special offer, guarantees no botanical horror attacks!” A zero had been added to the price tag, and Marco resigned himself to the inevitable as he pulled out his wallet for the familiar sum. “So that’s what she meant by us helping her business.”

***

The decor in the monster temple was splendid, Moon idly mused as she strolled through the corridors. There was a certain vivacity that Earth’s traditions brought into the holiday season that hadn’t been present for Stump Day alone. While she tended to prefer a more orderly, professional aesthetic, even she had to admit that a holiday celebrating the dead bottom of a tree could get dull at times with an almost exclusively brown wooden palette. If she had been told one year ago that come next Stump Day she’d be galavanting around the infamous Monster Temple, no longer a Queen, preparing to celebrate the holidays alongside Eclipsa, she’d have sent the laughable soothsayer to a therapist posthaste. But somehow she had settled into her new life with relative ease. Of course there were still lingering vestiges; many Mewmans still sought her advice about all sorts of mundane topics, albeit in a less… needy way, and she’d provided some counsel to the governments of the new world, filling in any information about the Mewman people and tradition. But at the end of the day, she was no more or less than any other woman in their new world, and after all the hardships she saw Mewni through - some, regrettably, by her own hand - it didn’t upset her as much as she might have thought it would.

She navigated the labyrinthian hallways until she reached the set of guest bedrooms Eclipsa had set up and walked over to hers to find the door open and her husband playing cards with Globgor.

“Moonpie!”

“Hello, darling. Hello, Globgor,” she waved. She walked over to the side of the bed and pecked River on the forehead before sitting down beside him, careful not to hurt the multiple casts he had on. “How are you holding up?”

“Never been better! Just some minor scrapes, really.”

“River, you fell three stories and landed on a hard stone floor directly on your back.”

“Bah, no matter, I’ve had worse! Besides some minor agony I barely notice it at all! Globgor here is teaching me some card games that the monster army used to play hundreds of years ago, it’s roaring fun! You should join us!”

“I think I’ve heard of some of the games…” Moon trailed off suspiciously, one eyebrow raised.

Globgor rubbed the back of his neck, clearly understanding her implications. “Ahem, well, I may have made some modifications to them. Most used custom decks that had lots of very, shall we say, unkind pictures of Mewmans on them, and most of the moves had unflattering names as well. While I was in the crystal I ended up remaking most of my favorite games without that stuff and playing matches with all kinds of imaginary characters in my brain,” he chuckled. Not that she was one to judge, after all - she’d already been through that song and dance with Buff Frog what felt like ages ago.

“Yes, and he’s really good at them!” River exclaimed in frustration as he tried and failed to counter Globgor’s most recent play. “You should join us, dear, you’re remarkable at these types of games!”

She patted his hand and flashed him a contrite smile. “I’d love to, but I still need to go through all the family belongings and find some Stump Day decorations. I’m sure at least some of them were salvaged from the castle.”

River clasped Moon’s hand with both of his own animatedly. “That reminds me! You just missed Star, she stopped by not too long ago to check up on her old man. She said they were going to set up the tree.”

“Shoot, I promised I would help them with that!” Globgor conked himself on the head, accidentally throwing his cards all over the bed in the process. “We can pick this up soon, so sorry about that!” He quickly gathered the strewn cards up and shuffled around the bed, closing the door on his way out.

“Not a problem!” River shouted after him. His volume lowered substantially as he and Moon were the only two left in the room. “It really is wonderful to have family holidays like this, is it not? Good food, good company, and best of all, no in-laws,” he smirked at her.

“River!” she jokingly admonished.

“Oh honey, you know that as much as I do. I love the Johansen clan dearly, but they can be positively insufferable at times. And don’t get me started on old Aunt Etheria…”

Moon laughed into her hand. “Yes, I suppose it is nice that the festivities will be much smaller this year.” After all the chaos and the dissolution of the Butterfly kingdom, their extended family (especially her own side) had some… mixed reactions. With Moon distancing herself from the power and prestige her family had been accustomed to, things were a bit tense and as such everyone had decided to stick to themselves for the holidays, which just left the main former Butterfly lineage and the Diazes to celebrate. Moon had grown rather fond of this new mixed-dimensional extended “family” of hers, which she supposed was a good thing since she had a sneaking suspicion that they’d become official family in due time. While she wouldn’t trade the last half a year for anything, it too had its own brand of chaos which made moments for just the two of them still rarer than she’d like, and now that they had one both seemed most content not doing anything. The comfortable silence lingered on for many minutes, both of his rough hands delicately clasped around one of her own while her other idly toyed with his beard, and neither seemed . Finally, their tranquility was broken by a knock at the door, which meant it couldn’t be Star. “Come in,” Moon said, separating from River and defaulting to a more proper pose.

She was greeted by a familiar red hoodie. “Oh! Um, sorry if I, uh, interrupted anything.”

River struggled to sit up and face the door properly, beaming brightly at the young man whose company he enjoyed very much. “Not a problem, my boy! Moonpie was just checking up on me. But don’t worry lad, I’ll be back on my feet in no time!”

“Oh, I know that. Star and I were just in the kitchen and thought you’d want the leftovers from tonight for a snack.” He held up a bag filled with what had to be a few pounds of meat and some corn.

Her husband’s eyes lit up like fireworks as he beckoned Marco into the room. “I see the holidays have come early this year, hah! Thank you, you know this old man quite well.”

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone,” Moon gestured to the bag and her husband, rolled her eyes playfully as he fished his meat blanket out from his beard and began to dig in.

She and Marco both walked out of the room. “Have fun with your boxes, honey!” he mumbled out as the door was closing, nearly unintelligible through the multiple drumsticks barbarously stuffed in his mouth.

Marco stopped and turned back to face Moon. “Oh, is there still something left to do for decorations?”

“I was planning on going through some of the Butterfly family possessions to find our old Stump Day decor, that’s all.”

He hesitated only a fraction of a second before responding, “Do you want some help? We finished everything with the tree already.”

Moon warmly grinned back at the boy. She’d noted his kindness and willingness to be by Star’s side through anything years prior, but what impressed her most was how it consistently extended to everyone else around him. “That would be lovely. They’re in the storage room, I’ll be up in a moment.”

“OK, I’ll get Star and we’ll meet you there.” He hustled off back to the main area of the castle, leaving her alone in the hallway.

She made her way to the storage room, getting lost a few times along the way, still not entirely familiar with the layout of the building. Her first task was to do a quick scan of the boxes and organize them. There was a notable lack of cohesion to the contents of each container, she noted with ire, but that was likely due to the haste with which they had been packed as the castle had been attacked. Forgivable. She’d noted around fifteen that possibly would contain the decorations she was looking for and had gathered them all together when a conversation from the hallway caught her attention.

“Why noooooot?”

“Star, they’re not going to let you use one of River’s clubs. Those things are like two feet wide and have spikes!”

“Yeah, those are his miniature clubs, which is why I want to bring them to miniature golf, duh!”

“It’s indoors! There will be kids around!”

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so! Dad has some indoor clubs for kids too.”

“He showed those to me, they’re even more dangerous!”

“Marcooooooo, come oooooon.”

“Trust me, it’ll be more fun with the normal clubs.”

“Fiiiiiine.” Just as they came into view through the door, she spotted Marco give a quick peck to the side of her head as she rolled her eyes at him, their fingers intertwined. Moon raised an eyebrow with a smug grin when they entered the room. They reminded her so much of herself and River when they were younger.

“Hi Mom!” Star said, leaving Marco’s side to give Moon a quick hug. “Marco said you needed help with something here, what’s up?”

“We just need to locate some of the Stump Day decorations from our usual family gatherings, shouldn’t be too long,” she responded, indicating the various boxes and bags on the floor behind her.

Star’s cheery expression visibly sunk. “Oh. Yeah, um, sure, we can help with that.” Moon’s brow furrowed in confusion briefly; she considered speaking up, but had learned it was best not to pry too much. No matter, they could finish this up quickly enough and all have a well-rested night before all the celebrations to come in the next few days. “So what exactly are we looking for?”

Moon pried open the nearest tub and overturned the piles of now-unneeded royal attire to see what lay beneath. “We’ll probably need a lot of mugs for the big dinner that Eclipsa is hosting for the locals tomorrow evening. And the diorama for River’s annual telling of the story of Stump Day, which he’s insisted he is still going to deliver himself. Perhaps a few of the hats as well, if we’re able to locate them. After last year, I don’t think we can quite play it too safe, after all.”

The three began to dig through boxes, clearing them out at a rapid pace. She noted a newfound chilliness even in Star’s interactions with Marco, responding to his antics making goofy voices with some old puppets with only half-hearted laughter. After about thirty minutes, they’d gathered everything they needed and began packing back up the belongings.

“Why do we even still have this stuff, anyway?” Star spontaneously spoke after a rather uncharacteristic bout of silence during their labor. Moon glanced over to see her holding up one of Moon’s old crowns, her hearts wrinkling as her face contorted in displeasure.

“Sweetheart, it’s a valuable heirloom. It’s still important to the tradition of this family to keep these things around, what if you or someone else might be interested in them in the future?”

Star scoffed and carelessly dunked the crown back in the box. “We’re not royalty anymore, Mom, and we never will be again,” Star retorted, dunking it carelessly back into the box.

“I know that, dear, but-”

Star’s voice, now risen to almost a shout, cut her off, echoing throughout the spacious room. “But what? I’ve moved on, I’m through with this, and you should be too. So what’s the point of keeping this, or this, or any of this unless you’re trying to hold on to the glory?” She held up the crown again, the top to one of the royal staves, and the medallion with the royal crest to illustrate her point. Moon and Star had butted heads enough in the past that this feeling of anger bubbling up wasn’t new to her, but it had been a while since her daughter had frustrated her to the extent she was right now. “Marco, back me up here!”

The boy raised a finger and stuttered briefly before an incensed Moon cut him off. “That’s not my point, Star. Even if it’s in the past, we can’t just toss away our history! What about things you did for your kingdom or your people? Don’t you want to at least remember that much?” she held up a few of the dresses and official portraits from various diplomatic events Star had participated in when she was younger. “These were things you did, not just stuffy royal artifacts. Surely that at least means something to you?”

Moon followed Star’s bright blue eyes as they darted intensely around the items she held until they suddenly stopped, fixated on a puffy blue and pink dress. The fury evaporated instantaneously and her expression morphed into shock. “Forget it, I’m done with all of it,” she sullenly intoned, dumping what she was holding on the ground and walking away. Marco tried to wrap an arm around her shoulder but she shrugged it off brusquely and marched out the door.

Marco took a step forward to follow her and then stopped, sulking and turning back to the pile of stuff, plopping to the ground and burying his head in his hands.

“What has gotten into her?” Moon vented through gritted teeth. “She just wants to be a normal teenager again, fine, but that does not mean she has to disrespect everything this family has done!” She took a deep breath to calm herself down before turning to Marco, not wanting to take anything out on him unduly. “Has she talked to you about any of this?”

His eyes remained fixed on the ground, playing with the zipper of his hoodie. “Earlier today she said she just wanted to have a normal birthday and not have to worry about Stump Day, but this stuff, it- I don’t really know. I mean, I- I get it, kind of, what she’s trying to say.” He looked at her with his brown eyes wide, as if asking permission.

“Go on.”

“Star… she spent practically all her time on Mewni trying to fix things, and trying to do whatever she thought was best for everyone. And- and when she gets an idea in her head about how to do that, she believes in it really hard, and it’s hard to stop her.” Both unconsciously smiled at the thought, and Moon didn’t miss the glimmer in the boy’s eyes as he continued talking about his best friend and love. “She still cares a lot about making the world better for everyone, even now. And the last big thing she believed in was that magic and Mewman queens and the whole Butterfly monarchy needed to be destroyed to do that.”

“So perhaps keeping everything squirreled away made her think I plan to use it again in the future,” she finished the thought.

Marco averted his gaze and rubbed his arm for a moment, opening his mouth a few times and failing to speak before finally choosing his words. “Do you?” he asked meekly.

The question stunned her, but upon a moment of reflection she couldn’t blame him. Time and time again, Moon had taken charge when she felt the time called for it, for better or worse. “No, heavens no. It’s been difficult at times, giving it all up, I admit. Even after Eclipsa took over, I still ended up doing what I thought was best to bring order. I suppose Star must get that from me, although she’s far better at it than I ever was.”

“I- I get it, though. On Earth we had a saying that I remember learning in school: ‘Those who can’t remember the past are doomed to repeat it,’ or something like that.”

“I like that. It works. Well, I’ll… give Star some time, and think about what to do with all of this, I suppose. I can finish the cleanup myself now, run along.” Moon was about to turn around as he went to leave but decided on one more thing to say. “Oh, and Marco?” She walked over to him by the door, noting that he was almost as tall as her now, and grabbed both his shoulders before placing a tender, motherly kiss on his forehead. The brown eyes she’d caught her daughter getting lost in all too often focused intently on her own amongst the surprised expression on his visage. “You’re still both teenagers, but you’ve grown so much. She wouldn’t be the admirable young woman she is today without you, and I suspect the opposite is also true. Thank you for being everything you are to my daughter.”

His mouth was slightly agape, unable to formulate any words in response. “T-thanks, um, Mrs… thanks.”

“Just ‘Moon’ is alright, dear,” she said affectionately.

“Thanks, Moon,” he finally stammered out before stumbling towards the door and out of the room at her gentle nudging. It only took a few minutes to carefully organize the remains  back into their boxes and get the Stump Day items ready to set up. Turning one last time toward the belongings that had been neatly packed away, a few ideas began running through her mind…

***

Everything was a mess. Star the Screw-up strikes again. She sulked into the battlements of her balcony, gazing into the night sky. She’d bummed Marco out, she’d gotten all tangled up in the holiday lights, she’d yelled at her mom who really didn’t deserve it, and even after they’d worked it out over some tea later she still felt hollow inside. The fact she was out in the cold in just her nightgown didn’t help, either, but she couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it. Weren’t the holidays supposed to bring ‘tidings of comfort and joy’? It didn’t feel like it. She grabbed the pillow she’d dragged out from her bedroom and screamed into it, letting her head sink further down until she was almost laying flat on the ground.

“Hey.”

Star lowered the pillow from her eyes and saw Marco in his pajamas, fiddling idly with the bottom of his shirt.

“Hi,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“Mind if I join you? I brought some hot cocoa.”

“Mmh.”

He took it as an affirmation, slumping down on the cold floor next to her, seemingly unbothered.

“Sooooo… nice night out tonight, huh?” he asked hopefully, passing her a stump mug.

“Yeah, I guess.” Her gaze went skyward as it had been for the past dozen or so minutes while she thoughtfully sipped her drink, feeling the liquid warm her instantly. “The stars are really pretty from up here.”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking her hand in his. She rolled onto her side to find him already facing her, studying her intensely with a faint smile dancing on his lips. “Did everything go alright with your mom?”

She sat in silence for a moment, drinking in the soothing love his chocolate gaze was practically projecting into hers, and feeling the soft caress of his fingers on her hand. “It was fine. She apologized too, even if I was the one who messed it up… but I get it. She’s right, you can’t throw away history just because you don’t like it. Heck, I think I was the one telling her that like a year ago!”

Marco shrugged his shoulders. “Things change, stuff happens, we all mess up sometimes. Don’t beat yourself up about it too much.”

“I know, I know, it’s just… all this holiday stuff, all this reminiscing and being thankful for what you have and all this celebrating traditions from Mewni got me thinking about a lot. Stump Day, and my birthday, and princesses…” she paused for a moment, steadying her breathing. “...and you.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “Me?”

“You.” Star untangled her hand from his and brought both to her face, grounding the bases of her palms into her shut eyes to try and plug up any waterworks that she could feel working their way up towards the surface. “Stump Day just made me think of last year, and all the fighting and drama, and that made me think of all the other stuff, and… euuurgh,” she moaned.

“Star, it’s OK-”

“No it’s not,” she whimpered, not being able to stop the tears from dripping down her face this time.

“Woah, woah, Star…” he sat up, visibly scared for her, and pulled her up with him, but her body language was unyieldingly feeble as she shied away from his touch. “Just talk to me, OK? None of that was your fault.”

“Maybe…” she folded her arms and crossed her legs, leaning back against the merlons mulling over her words. “In the barn, you told me you felt like that since the beginning. And I know you didn’t, like, mean that you were head over heels in love with me while you were showing me around school or anything, but… I get it because I was the same way.” Once the words started, the pace quickly swelled until she couldn’t help but pour her heart out. “I pushed it aside, convinced myself it wasn’t there, ignored it when it was staring me in the face, and ate up the whole Curse thing like the cheapest, crummiest street corn. But looking back on it, that whole year on Mewni… it never went away then either. I was just too blind to realize what those feelings meant until it was almost too late. That’s what- that’s what I just wanted to forget.”

An arm bumped up against hers, and in her peripheral vision she saw him standing next to her, looking off the balcony into the distance. “It always feels better when you talk about it,” he offered meekly. How many times had she been the one trying to pry the truth out of him? Now that the roles were reversed, she fully understood why it had always been so hard. “What do your guts feel like?”

“Just one giant bleeeeergh,” she garbled, sticking her tongue out for emphasis.

“Well, you did have four glasses of cornnog.”

She smiled wistfully, staring down at her feet. “Touché, Diaz.”

The cool breeze whistling through the nooks and crannies of the temple was the only sound around them for a minute until he began again. “I won’t lie to you, Star… it stunk sometimes. It wasn’t always fun, sometimes it hurt. My feelings for you felt like an obstacle for so long…” In her mind’s eye, she could picture it all too clearly: wheeling on him, grabbing his arms and apologizing with rivers running down her cheeks to show him what he meant to her. But he cut that off only a beat later. “But I don’t regret a single day, because they were still with you.”

Now she whipped around to face him, looking incredulously at his calm form hanging over the top of the stone. “Wha-”

“All that time I spent trying to shove away or ignore how I felt, it- it still meant something to me. I wouldn’t trade any moment where I loved you for anything, even when it hurt, even if you were with someone else, or, heck, even if I didn’t think it was love. Doesn’t matter.” He sniffled briefly, wiping his face with his arm, and finally turned to face her. The glossy trembling she’d expected to find wasn’t there, instead she only found a fiery resolve. “C’mon, let’s go inside.” She barely remembered to grab her pillow before his firm grip pulled her back into their bedroom. Star wasn’t sure how he could be so calm about all of this. Some nagging, self-loathing voice in the back of her mind told her this had been eating away at him too, that he was just trying to spare her feelings, that she’d been the one to screw up by taking too long to tell him she loved him, but it was dulled by her curiosity at his actions. He shuffled under the bed, rummaging around until he pulled out a long, thin box with baby blue wrapping paper and pink hearts all over it.

“Marco?”

“It’s your birthday present! I- I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but I think now is better.”

They both sat down on the edge of the bed. Star glared at him suspiciously, inelegantly removing the bow and wrapping paper to find a thick velvety fabric. She started to pull it out and it unfolded itself many times, quickly sagging to the floor as she held it up. The water built up on her eyelids once more, steadily beginning to pour out as she beheld the sight in front of her.

He scooted beside her, wrapping one arm around her midsection. “I, um, hadn’t realized all this stuff was getting you down this much or I wouldn’t have-”

She shut him up with a passionate kiss, weaving her fingers through his hair as the heat of the moment stretched on. Their foreheads stayed together when they finally separated, both panting for a moment as Star tried to recover from the tongue-tiedness. “Marco, you absolute dork,” she said breathily with her lips grinning as widely as the could. “I love it.”

Both their heads turned back towards the blanket as they each used one hand to hold it up. It was a beautiful tapestry of moments from their entire relationship, from beginning until at least one thing Star could pinpoint as only happening a few weeks ago. Her spare hand caressed the fabric, adoring each and every detail. “The day we met, that day you froze time for sixty hours, the Blood Moon Ball,” he pointed out one by one. “Our first kiss… in the booth. When I found you before you killed Toffee. Right before we went to destroy the magic. This is us, Star. I- I don’t want to pretend that this stuff didn’t happen even if it wasn’t always fun, because then it wouldn’t be what made you special to me. And also, our old Friendship-Thursday-slash-Thursdate blanket was getting nasty. It smelled like month-old nacho cheese even after Lavabo washed it,” he shuddered. “So now, every time we’re snuggled up together, we can remember everything that got us to this point, and- and I left some blank spots for more patches later, because I want to look forward to the future too.”

“This is way better than any of my dumb ideas from earlier today,” she chuckled, wiping the tears and snot from her face. “Maybe that’s what ‘Christumpmasday’ should be about. The past coming together and making something new and exciting without giving up what led to it.”

“...except for the actual evil Stump demon thing. We might still be better off without it.”

“Definitely.” Both sported a cheeky grin.

“Oh, and by the way, Star?”

“Hmm?”

His lips suddenly were on hers once more, catching her off guard for a moment before she reciprocated. He swung her around, hugging her body tightly onto his, setting her nerves ablaze and causing all the hairs on the back of her neck to tingle. She adjusted her legs and pushed him back down into the pillows, landing on top of him without breaking the kiss, both hungry for more of the other. When the moment finally ended, she propped herself up on her elbows, fingers toying with his silky hair as she gazed down at the love of her life. When his eyes left hers, she followed them to the clock on her nightstand. 12:06 AM. “Happy birthday, Star,” he grinned before pecking her on the cheek.

A warmth like no other spread from Star’s chest through the rest of her body when she curled into him, needing more than anything to hold him tight tonight. Her legs tangled themselves into his as her head found purchase on his chest. “I love you so much, Marco. I don’t think I tell you that enough.”

“Same. Love you so much too, Star.”

He tucked the blanket tighter around both of them and held her as closely as he could until sleep claimed him. Star planted one last languid smooch on his jawline, nuzzling her cheek into him hard enough that it squished against his body before she too drifted off, snug in their bed, while visions of sugar-stumps danced in her head.

#starco #svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #moonriver #tgg svtfoe #fanfic

[romewritingshop]

Universal Words Chapter Two: Introductions

Fandom: Narcos

Relationship: Priya Srivastav (Indian OFC) X Javier Peña

Warnings: None

Word Count Total: 3005

Summary: Priya Srivastav is an uneducated housewife who decides to take English classes at the behest of her sister. Coming to the classes, she is drawn in by another class fellow, a mysterious withdrawn writer by the name of Javier Peña. As sessions go on, Javier and Priya learn more about one another and discover a new form of communication.

A/N: This is a fic where multiple characters speak different languages so the words highlighted in bold indicate the character is talking in another language.

Universal Words Masterlist

Tagged: @tiffdawg​ @storiesofthefandomlovers​ @arrowswithwifi​

56 Bleeker Street, NY LANGUAGE CENTRE

Priya glanced at the paper before looking up at the street sign. It pointed in many directions and the words just didn't make sense. The roads in Delhi were much more simple to follow, New York just loved complicating things. She walked down a street, watching the tall buildings loom over her with distaste for uncertainty. She really felt uncomfortable and she should have taken Meena's offer. However, since she was going to be making her own way there she better figure out the route herself, and what better time to start than now. Priya left an hour early so she could reach the class early. There were two kind passersby that directed her in the right direction. 

She did remember one thing from Meena’s instruction:

The building with flags in front.

Sure enough, she noticed a tall structure that had cream walls and a bunch of flags around the entrance of the door. She hoped it was the right one as she walked in through the doors and came face to face with a woman sitting at a desk behind a computer. The woman was typing rapidly to book classes for ESOL students when she spotted an Indian woman out of the corner of her eye. The receptionist pushed her chair back and stood up to welcome the woman.

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“English class, today?”

“Yes we have different classes for different levels. Which one would you like to enrol in?”

Priya looked down at her paper and handed it to the woman, who read through the paper. She was tall and elegant with perfectly manicured nails. A minute later the woman turned to Priya with a big smile and gave a nod, walking around the desk.

“Lemme take you to your class. Follow me.”

The woman walks away from Priya to an elevator, holding the door open for her to stand in. She pressed a button and a few minutes later, the doors open to the floor as the woman struts out full of confidence. Priya could not get over her stylish high heels and tall stature as Priya walked through a corridor of glass walls before the woman stopped by a door, knocking and then pushing it open to let Priya in. An older man dressed in a navy sweater smiles kindly at Priya.

“Alex. I have another person for your class today.”

“Thanks, Theresa. Hello, come in and take a seat.”

Priya gives a nod and takes the seat and desk closest to the door. The teacher, Alex seemed like a jovial soul as he put down a paper and perched his glasses on his nose. She noticed several people in the class as Alex began. He had a loud voice and the way he spoke was clear to understand, somehow Priya felt like she could understand everything Alex was saying.

“Hello everyone. I’m Alex and I’ll be teaching you English for the next three months. Today we’ll just introduce ourselves and get to know one another. You’ll be working together over the next few months. Let’s start off at the back and make our way around. So what’s your name, where are you from and what does English mean to you? Try to speak in English so I know what I’m working with.”

Everyone turned to the direction of a young black man who sat stoic and steely. He sat up slightly and cleared his throat.

“Me, Bonginkosi Komi. I from Lesotho. I work in shop, sell clothes. Macy’s. And I study in school. I want be a painter. Like Van Gogh. He very good painter. Me want be like him.”

Alex had a kind smile as he gave a nod of appreciation to Bonginkosi. He was a young kid that had big dreams and aspirations and Alex was going to do his best to make sure that Bonginkosi became a painter.

“Sounds really great, Bongkosi -”

“Bonginkosi, sir!”

“Sorry, Bonginkosi. And why do you want to learn English?”

“I learn English to tell people my art. Why it good and why I paint picture.”

“So you want to tell people what painting means to you and how you made the picture.”

“Yes.”

Alex gave a nod and thanked Bonginkosi for his introduction. Moving on to the next few people and Priya was fascinated. There was Helena, who was from Portugal. She’s a nanny for a family and wants to learn English so the baby learns English. It made Priya and Alex smile as the next person introduced themselves as Ali Rehman. He’s from Pakistan and he drives a cab, his reason for learning English was because ‘Pakistani girls marry foreigners, who speak English’. The next person was Ouchi Kasumi, she was Japanese and a hairdresser. Learning English would help her start her own hair salon and Alex called her an ‘entrepreneur’. Priya felt close to all of these people as Alex turned to the next person.

Priya glanced around the person next to her, recognising the familiar moustache and crooked nose. The man from the coffee shop as her eyes drifted over him. He was dressed in a blue button shirt, dark jeans and black leather jacket that made him seem distinguished.

“I’m Javier Peña. I’m from Texas and … I write.”

“A writer?”

“Si. Yes. I learn English to write English, not Español.”

Javier was his name as Priya repeated it to herself, loving the way he said his name. He was compelling as Priya noted he had the same leather bound journal on his table. He probably did writing in that journal and Priya wanted to read his work. The next person introduced himself as Vijaynath Iyer and he was a software engineer. He was learning English so he could better communicate with his colleagues. 

“And finally we come to the lady in the blue saree.”

Finally it came to Priya as Javier turned to face her and he was still. It was the woman that bumped into him in the coffee shop, as he took in her blue dress, and plain face. There was something about her that made Javier just want to watch her for a long time. Priya drew her eyes from Javier and turned to Alex, who was giving her a warm encouraging smile.

“I Priya Srivastav and I no work. I am mom to little boy. I learn English to get job like you Alex.”

“Like me? A teacher?”

“Yes, but I one plus one.”

“Oh, maths teacher! Well hopefully you can teach us something about maths.”

Priya gave a nod and turned towards Javier, who looked down at his journal, paying attention to an imaginary scuff mark on his journal. She had a kid as Javier tried to push out the thoughts of knowing her. She probably had a husband so Javier didn’t want to get his hopes up. Then Javier blinked at the odd barrage of thoughts, why was he thinking of her romantically when he only just met her. She was just a woman in his class. A pretty woman. Alex began with the lesson.

“So now that we all know each other, I’m gonna point at one of you to talk about another person in the class and so on. That way, you’ll remember names and faces well. So I’ll start: You are Vijnath Iyer and you are a software engineer. Vijaynath you choose to introduce someone in the class.”

Alex was engaging everyone to learn the personalities of their classmates as Priya laughed with joy. She couldn’t understand her hesitation towards the class but she was finally glad she did. After several icebreakers, Alex gave them homework to bring their favourite books and then class was finally dismissed. Priya took a note of where her classroom was and the floor it was on before joining the others in the elevator.

They all talked about how good Alex was and how they were excited to be learning English. Javier was in the elevator with them but he didn’t say anything as Priya watched his stone cold face. She sensed something was bugging him and she wanted to approach him but the elevator stopped and Javier stormed away before anyone could call after him. What made him so angry? Even the other people noted there was something off but then brushed it off as they all came out the building. Ali, Ouchi, Bonginkosi and Vijaynath went the opposite way as the four of them had to go to work. Helena and Priya walked in the same direction and the both of them talked.

Helena was a passionate person as she talked about Portugal and her family. Four sisters and two brothers which impressed Priya. Priya talked about her sister, brother-in-law and son but omitted details about Amit. She wasn’t ready to open that wound yet. It wasn’t long when Helena had to break off from their route to another crossing, they greeted farewell and exchanged phone numbers so they could help one another in English. Priya felt her heart was lighter and there was a bounce in her step as she took in where she was. 

It was the road to the coffee shop where Pooja works and Priya just had to visit her. So she stepped into the cosy coffee shop and spotted Pooja wiping down a table. Priya stood a little distance away from her and cleared her throat to get Pooja’s attention. Pooja turned back to see her customer from last week and smiled.

“Hello again. Back to meet someone else or to get another coffee?”

“Meet someone. I came to see you and say thank you.”

Pooja raised an eyebrow as she tucked the dirt cloth into her apron to take in the customer.

“Thank you for what?”

“Your words encouraged me to take an English class. I had my first lesson today and now I can introduce myself to you.” Priya cleared her throat and stood straight with confidence. "Hello. My name is Priya Srivastav."

Pooja smiled and pushed her hand out but Priya was unsure of the gesture.

"You shake hands when you introduce yourself to someone." Priya gave a smile and took Pooja's hand. It felt soft and warm as Pooja grasped Priya's hand firmly.

"Hello Priya. I'm Pooja Shrestha."

~~~~~~

The next day, after getting Radha and Jignesh ready for school, Priya got ready in a yellow saree and made her way to the language centre. She was pretty confident on her route as she took the subway to the city and walked for about ten minutes, near the coffee shop. She lingered near it bouncing from foot to foot. Javier seemed upset, she wasn't sure why but she wanted to make the first gesture of friendship. After debating she decided to go in and get a coffee for Javier.

It’s September time and it was slightly chilly so she was lucky to remember taking a beige trench jacket. Coffee was a good idea because it would keep herself and Javier warm against the cold, and maybe make him a little more happier in class. Pooja wasn’t in but her work friend recognised Priya, a tall man with long dark hair and stunning blue eyes. He must be a model because Priya couldn’t take her eyes off him as the man stood in front of her with a smile. It was a little quieter in the cafe so Priya could take all the time she needed to understand the menu and order.

“Hi, you’re Pooja’s customer, right?” Priya gave a nod as the man gestured at his name tag. “I’m Daniel. Pooja’s friend.”

“Hello. I’m Priya.”

“Pooja told me to get you to try a new drink. Want something new or same as last time?”

Last time she remembered that Pooja offered her a chai latte which was nothing like chai. Hopefully Daniel had a better option but she was also getting a drink for Javier. Hopefully he likes surprises.

“Strong coffee.”

“I know just what to make you.”

“Two coffee.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, curious at who this second cup was for but it was nothing to do with him. He acquiesced, taking the payment and setting to work to make espressos, with a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg because it was a cold autumn and hot spiced drinks are in season. Plus, Priya seemed like the type of person who’d enjoy a spiced hot drink.

“Two espressos. It’s hot and good for cold weather.”

Priya thanked Daniel for his suggestion, taking the two takeaway cups to her class, feeling a little better. A few minutes later, she entered the building and took the elevator to her class, walking along and entering the class. Alex was there as he smiled at her.

“Hello Priya. Take a seat and we’ll start in a few minutes.”

She looked around to see everyone there, except for Javier and Bonginkosi. Helena was at the back, waving at her to come sit next to her which Priya did, placing the cups on her desk as her eyes wandered over the class door. Anxiously wondering if Javier would come and Helena noticed this anxious concern. She nudged her elbow as if to ask Priya what she was waiting for. Priya shook her head as Bonginkosi came into class and took a seat at the front, meaning the empty chair next to her would be where Javier would sit.

Priya placed the cup on the center of the empty desk and got out a notebook and pen to take notes for today’s first lesson. Alex put down the lesson plan he was going over when Javier came through the door looking slightly flushed as if he was running. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to him as Javier’s eyes drew to Priya, who dressed in a mustard yellow Indian dress. It brought a glow to her brown skin and Javier felt the breath in his lungs sweeten with sugar.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay Javier. Take a seat, we are just about to start.”

The only empty seat was next to her as his heart thundered loudly against his ribs but he needed to suck it up. She was just his classmate as he skirted along the walls of the class and to take the seat next to hers when he noticed a takeaway coffee cup on his table. It was from Starbucks as his eyes discreetly went to Priya’s desk, noting she too had the same coffee cup. Did she buy it for him? He sat down and took out his leather bound journal and pen, his eyes staring down at the cup.

Priya didn’t want to seem obvious but she could tell Javier was perturbed from the coffee cup on his desk and she wondered if it was the right choice. He seemed so upset the previous day and she hoped her gesture of coffee would make him feel good or even welcome to the class. Javier brought his eyes over Priya, who was focused on taking notes and listening to Alex. She was kind and considerate and the way he stormed out of class yesterday was not the right first impression.

Steam was tiptoeing out of the cup and he made the best choice by wrapping his hand around the slightly tepid cup and bringing it to his lips. The rich coffee burst with notes of cinnamon and nutmeg and it took him by surprise as she got him his favourite coffee albeit with a twist of spices. She was smiling at him and Javier couldn’t help but smile back as a silent gesture of appreciation. The both of them were now turning their attention to Alex, who was going through grammar and pronunciation.

After class ended, everyone headed to the elevator to get going to their jobs and or home. Priya and Javi let the other people go in the elevator first before they then went in, standing peacefully as the elevator began its descent. She noticed that Javier was wearing a red shirt which made him look robust and suave. He held his journal in one hand and the coffee cup in the other as they moved their eyes over each other and away.

“Thank you.” Priya was taken aback as she turned her gaze to Javier, internally gasping at his sincere facial expression. He shook the coffee cup and Priya smiled softly as a way to accept his gratitude. “Good coffee. I like. Is espresso?”

“Yes. At cafe, they choose it. I buy one for you. Yesterday you sad so coffee make you happy.”

Javier’s lips quirked upwards at her concern for him. Part of him was trying to remember the fact that she had a kid and that she was married but it was a distant thought that had no importance. In this moment, he saw a simple woman that bought him coffee. Priya liked his bashfulness and his soft direct tone.

“You like espresso?”

The drink was nice and strong, it woke her up and made her focus in class a little more stronger, however it was too bitter for her taste and part of her wanted to tell Javier it was nice so that they had something in common but the truth was, was that she did not like espresso.

“No. Too -” She stuck her tongue out and Javier understood that it was too bitter for her. His heart and cheeks warmed even more at the fact that she got a coffee for his tastes and disregarded her own. He had to offer her a cup, it was the least he could do and it was an opportunity for him to get to know her more.

“Ah. Can I buy coffee? For you?”

“For me? Now?”

“Tomorrow.”

He hoped she would accept his offer as they had now stepped out of the building and stood on the sidewalk, oblivious to people around them strutting by.

“Yes Javier. One coffee tomorrow. No espresso.”

“No espresso.”

CHAPTER THREE: NEW EXPERIENCES

#javier pena #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction

[foreverandalwayshttyd]

This honestly just.....came to me? Today was an emotional day and what better way to cry even harder then do a fluffy emotional haddock reunion. Beware, fluffy family feels below.

Haddock Reunion

A whole two months. Two long agonizing, lonely, despair filled months for New Berk. Their beloved chief had been captured, and taken to a different part of the archipelago to only Thor knows where. Eight years into the reign without dragons, peace had finally settled in for the Berkians. Of course Hiccup Haddock was the foundation of this close populated community, so for him to suddenly disappear for over a month caused the chirpy bustle of the village to turn into a distressed less active bustle. The type of bustle that Astrid Haddock did not want to deal with. But what choice did she have? All she could do was keep her village under control (with the help of the others of course) and hope that her husband would return soon.

Not to mention her crestfallen children, who could do nothing but cling to their mother (and Valka occasionally) in sorrow. Without their father home, the house was just so....quiet. Nuffink had trouble sleeping, as Hiccup wasn't there to comfort him during his nightmares. Astrid did the best she could to comfort him but it just resulted in neither of them getting any sleep. Zephyr was the quietest anyone had ever seen her. She always looked forward to roaming the village with her father on some days, or even to just see him walk through the door with a warm smile and open arms. But now that he was missing, she had nothing to look forward too. She would just spend nights crying against Astrid in despair, wailing for her daddy as Astrid just soothingly rocked her.

Astrid had never been more stressed and oppressed in her whole life till now. She had to act like she was completely fine so she could keep the village and her family going. Hiccup was her other half, and she just couldn't go on much longer without him. She didn't think anyone could. The village just kept pressing her more and more every day to go looking for him. Not they hadn't tried that. Multiple times. Obviously that was their first course of action; to set sail and find him. But that was very difficult as they didn't have tracker dragons to track anymore, and it just ended up as weeks out at sea finding nothing. After each trip failed, Astrid decided to call them off (mostly because she couldn't bare to see them return without her beloved) and hoped that Hiccup knew what he was doing, and would return. But hope was beginning to fade as days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months.

Astrid was currently trying to break up a fight down by the trading post far west of the island. Sure, she had broken up many many fights before. But try breaking up two Vikings hollering at each other, with a little blonde toddler boy in your arms, and a little light headed auburn girl clinging to your cloak behind you. Now that was difficult.

"Hoark! Berthel! Please, calm down and let's just talk this through!" She shouted, positioning herself between the two bickering men. They just gave each other low scowls, completely glancing over Astrid's distressed form.

"There's nothing to talk about! He stole some of mah family's last rations! Winter is almost upon us, and I ain't stoppin till he owns up and gives me back mah food!" Hoark barked in his thick heavy accent. Zephyr cowered in fear at the man's tone, pulling Astrid's cloak over her head and clinging to her mother's legs. Nuffink buried his head into his mothers neck, with a little whimper. Astrid hoisted Nuffink up a bit, as he was beginning to slide down her waist. She used her other hand to warn Hoark not to take another step closer to Berthel.

"Wha?! I did not you loon! It was you that stole from me!"

"Oh was it now?!"

"Indeed it was, thief!"

Astrid tried her best to keep the two from not attacking each other. And trying to keep her children out of harms way. Thor where was Hiccup when she needed him most? The whole village was falling apart without him. Astrid broke out into a nervous sweat, as the men's angry shouts ringed through her ears. Nuffink began to cry a bit, and Zephyr just continued to yell Momma in a whiney tone. Her mind snapped instantly. She had had enough of this.

"ALRIGHT LISTEN YOU TWO! I don't know who stole what from who, but figure it out like grown men! And for Thor's sake, my children are here, and all you're doing is trying to kill each other. We have enough rations, just calm down before I finish this fight myself!" Astrid shouted, and by now she thought the whole archipelago could hear.

Berthel and Hoark were frozen in place. They didn't dare move a muscle; she was in mama bear mode now. And any Berkian was smart enough to know not to cross with Astrid Haddock when she was in mother mode. She breathed heavily, as Nuffink clung to her as if his life depended on it. Zephyr began to whimper softly against her mother.

"A'hm....sorry, miss Astrid. And you too Berthel. Whatever you took, enjoy." He stuck out his hand to Berthel, gesturing for him to shake it. Berthel's face was etched with guilt as he looked towards the panting chieftess, and the two whimpering children who stuck to her like glue.

"I'm sorry too old friend. I'll be sure to give you some of our extra rations to make up for it...." He said, as he took Hoark's outstretched hand. Astrid sighed shakily as she watched the two men make amends. I don't know if I can do this much longer.....

"Sincerest apologies Chieftess. I bet we kind of made your stress level worse huh?" Hoark chuckled half heartedly. If only you knew. She retorted in her mind. "We do hope Chief Hiccup is alright. If there's anything we can do to help ya lass, let us know." Berthel finished off.

Astrid nodded solemnly towards the two Vikings, before they walked back to the village, probably going to brew up some more trouble somewhere else. As long as Astrid wasn't around to hear them complain, she was fine. Instinct snapped back into place as she peered down at Nuffink, and caressed his cheek gently. "You okay bud?" She asked softly, as he nodded quickly. Astrid kneeled down on the ground, and placed her son down next to Zephyr.

"I'm sorry you two had to witness that. Momma has just been.... very stressed with daddy being gone." At the word daddy, Zephyr's big blue eyes almost instantly started to swell with tears. She cried out, and instantly threw herself against her mother and began to drench Astrid's cloak with tears. "I miss - daddy...." She muttered in stifled sobs. Nuffink just crawled under Astrid's other arm and hid himself from the world under the comfort of his mother.

"Shh shhh....it's okay sweetie. I miss him too," She rocked Zephyr back and forth soothingly, while she stroked Nuffink's hair. They stayed like that for a good long while until Valka eventually found the gloomy family. She gave Astrid a pitied look, and took a dozed off Nuffink from her daughter-in-law and into her arms, and carried him back home as he silently cried against her shoulder. Astrid (difficultly) hoisted Zephyr into her embrace, and trudged back home with two tear stained, heavy-hearted children. This, no doubt, was one of the hardest things Astrid had ever been through.

The next day, Astrid took her kids down to where the pulley systems were (what they used to get ships into the ocean) and the little family sat on the big stone steps that lead down to the sea. It was a calm day, with not a ruckus in town (at least not that Astrid knew about). Zephyr began going up and down the stairs, counting each one as she took a step. Nuffink played with his little Night Fury plush, as Astrid braided his hair lost in deep thought. What if she never saw Hiccup again? What if the kids grew up without him? What if Snotlout had to become the new - yeah no, her thoughts were getting a little too crazy. A little breeze rushed by, and she took a deep breath inhaling the fresh air. Oh Hiccup. Where are you?

Zephyr had bounded up the stairs a little more, putting a little hop into her steps. "Twenty one.....five hundred!" She squealed proudly, thinking she was counting the right way. She looked down at her feet, and then out to sea. Her gaze wandered over to the docks below, not a person in sight. Or so she thought.

She squinted her eyes, and tilted her head in confusion as a limping figure could be made out from below. Her whole heart started to race. Her eyes widened, and she gave a tiny little gasp through her agape mouth. Zephyr knew that limp from anywhere.

Before she even put any thought to it, she sprinted like no one's business. She darted past her dazed mother and brother, hobbling over each step with caution, and haste. Astrid looked up surprised as her daughter whizzed by her, also catching her little brother's attention. Zephyr descended down the steps quickly, her little heart pumping with adrenaline.

Hiccup's weak form become more visible, and she yelled at the top of her lungs. "DADDY!" She screeched, causing Hiccup to look up in shock. He clutched his bruised arm, and tried to keep his swollen eyes open. He let out a teary joyful sigh, as the sight of his daughter made him want to leap for joy.

He gained a little speed and knelt down a little getting ready to take Zephyr into his arms. Zephyr nearly jumped from where she was, and wrapped her arms around Hiccup's neck so tightly he almost couldn't breath. "Daddy daddy daddy....." Zephyr sobbed into his shoulder relieved her father was still alive. Hiccup chuckled and let a few tears slide down his cheeks. He buried his head into her soft hair, sighing deeply in relief. "It's okay....I'm okay..." He said softly, as he gently stroked her hair.

"Daddy!" A tiny little voice called from above, catching Hiccup off guard. A little blonde boy bounced with each step he took, drawing closer to the scene. Hiccup stood, with Zephyr still in his arms, and immediately wrapped Nuffink up into his embrace when he was close enough to reach. Nuffink just began to laugh joyfully upon seeing his father again, squeezing his neck tightly. "Dadda I missed you!"

Hiccup's whole heart was exploding with love for his children. He missed them terribly, and to have them in his arms again since two months ago, made him want to never let them go. "I missed you too bud!" He chuckled, as he ruffled his sons hair, and helped Zephyr wipe away some of her tears with a sympathetic smile. There was only one person missing out on this family reunion.

Astrid stood shakily from where she was, covering her mouth with her trembling hand in disbelief. “Hiccup....” her breath hitched as she caught herself from almost tumbling down the stone steps. She laughed in relief, and quickly sprinted down towards the docks to meet her embraced family. She could feel her eyes swell with tears, as she drew closer to her husband she had missed desperately.

Hiccup let out a shaky breath as he watched his beloved rushing down the big stone steps, her blonde hair flailing in the air. He never turned his gaze from her as he set his children down gently and began to shorten the distance Astrid would have to run.

Astrid collapsed into his embrace, burying her head in his shoulder with hot tears, as she entangled her arms around his neck. Hiccup held her close, and buried his head into her hair sighing in relief at the feeling of his wife being in his arms again. "I thought I lost you, Hiccup....." Astrid muttered between her shuttered cries, as Hiccup chuckled softly, eyes still shut in relief. "You can't lose me that easily." He caressed her cheek wiping away a tear, as they stared into each other's glistening eyes. She leaned into his touch, not wanting to ever take it for granted again.

The other two little Haddock's wedged themselves in between their parents, causing Hiccup and Astrid to both look down into their little wide eyes. They both held up their little arms, opening their palms gesturing they wanted 'up'. Astrid sniffled with a warm smile, and picked up her little boy as she pressed a sweet kiss against his chubby little cheek. Hiccup and Astrid both picked up Zephyr, each grabbing one of her arms, and placed her right in between them. One arm wrapped around her daddy's neck, and one around her momma's, she giggled as Hiccup pressed a kiss against her hair.

Astrid looked at Hiccup's face concerned, noticing his swollen eye, and bruised cheek. Nuffink reached his hand out towards Hiccup's face, and placed his soft hand against Hiccup's scruff. "Dadda, what's wrong with your face?" He asked confused and Hiccup chuckled softly, gently grabbing his son's hand. "I'm okay Nuff, it's just a little scratch."

Astrid didn't look too convinced, but Hiccup gave her a 'not in front of the kids look'. "Please don't leave us again daddy." Zephyr pleaded as she buried her head into Hiccup's chest. "I agree with her on this one. You're not allowed to go anywhere alone again, chief." Astrid said in her mom tone, and Hiccup cocked his brow in a playful gesture. "Oh don't worry. I don't plan on ever being away from you guys for that long again. I promise."

He ruffled Nuffink's hair, and gave Zephyr a warm smile. He looked into Astrid's glistening eyes, and could tell she wasn't planning on letting him go anywhere anytime soon. He wrapped his arm around his wife, who was still holding Nuffink, and held his family as close as he possibly could. They all had bittersweet smiles on their faces, as Astrid let a few more tears slide down her cheeks. She didn't know if it was from all the stress she had, the feeling of being in her husband's arms again, or seeing her children have smiles on their faces for the first time in two months. All she knew, was that the Haddock family just wasn't the same without their lovable dorky father.

#idk about this one.....oh whale #i’m content #and i’m trash for this family #haddock family #httyd fanfiction #httyd 3

[ask-de-writer]

CRAWFEATHER! : MLP Fan Fiction : Tales to read AFTER the lights are OUT

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Return to Tales to Read AFTER the Lights are OUT!

CRAWFEATHER!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

1382 words

© 2019 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 10/16/19

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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TRIGGER WARNING : Multiple murders by ax, poison, and stabbing!

Haunted mansion: You have to get those ghosts in there somehow, right?

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Cory grinned meanly as he bounced the heavy bag from hoof to hoof while he offered, “Yah, I got the money that I owes you, Canter.  It's right here.  Not gonna pay you, though.  Not yet.  I means, it is Nightmare Night.  I will give you the money first thing in the morning.  Just spend the night in the old Crawfeather place.  Should be a piece of cake, after all, you don't believe in ghosts, so you says.”

“You are on, Cory.  But make it 300, if you make me stay in there for the night!”

“You got it, Canter, if you stay the night, I'll make it 300 when you come out at dawn.”

Now he was creeping down one of the empty hallways of the long abandoned mansion of Crawfeather.  The darkness relieved only by the single candle held in Canter's magic.  Old furniture mostly covered by aged dust covers dotted the passage.  He shivered, and it was not from the cold.  He was wishing that he had not taken the dare to spend this Nightmare Night in the reputedly haunted Crawfeather mansion.  Still, 300 golden bits was 300 golden bits.

Canter remembered all too vividly the ghastly past of this place.  The land that the mansion was built on was originally owned by the Bordens, back in the very earliest days of Ponyville, before there was any sort of formal town.

After the Apple Clan had demonstrated the value of the land in the area for farming by creating one of the most productive apple orchards in Equestria, the land rush was on!  The Bordens had claimed a big area and invested all that they had into clearing the land.  It proved to be too stony for any sort of farm.  It wasn't just loose surface stone either.  Rough upthrust sedimentary rock made up most of it. Clyde's attempts to sell it to newcomers became a local joke.

Clyde Borden put the land up in a card game and lost it to Jason Crawfeather.  For weeks afterwards, Clyde crowed about how bad Jason was taken in by winning that worthless land.  Jason and his family quietly ignored him and set industriously to work.  It was not too long before the Crawfeather Quarry was supplying the good building stone for foundations and nicely split slates for stout, weatherproof roofs that the rapidly growing community of Ponyville needed.

The fortune earned by the Crawfeathers and the resentment of the Bordens stoked the flames of the feud that followed.  The orgy of murder was started by Poxy, one of Clyde's grown colts.  

Swinging an ax, he charged into the Crawfeathers and some guests, who were dining on their plaza!  By the time that it was over, Chance Crawfeather was carried up to his room, his life blood soaking the sheets and bolster of his bed as he died.

Sweetbriar Crawfeather, Jason's wife was laid out in the great room.  One of the guests was a doctor who managed to stanch her wounds and saved her life.  She would carry those scars to her grave.

Poxy was caught before he could escape.  Three strong unicorns from the quarry held him down while Jason brained him with his own ax.

Pretending serious remorse for the actions of her brother, Lisset Borden came to serve the remaining Crawfeathers as a maid.  She soon learned that all three of them, Jason, Sweetbriar, and their remaining filly, Sunblossom had a fondness for tomato soup.  She served the unsuspecting family a tasty soup of tomatoes, basil, and a strong portion of poison hemlock.

Sunblossom collapsed at the table.  In spite of the pangs from her own stomach, Sweetbriar assisted Sunblossom up to her room.  In her attempt to appear innocent, Lisset helped her too.

Jason, in spite of the agony in his own innards, called for help from the house staff.  It took them only moments to find the bottle that had contained the deadly concoction.  They captured Lisset as she was coming down the stairs.  Lisset was made to drink the soup that remained.  She was dead before the ghastly wails of Sweetbriar announced the passing of Sunblossom.

Both Jason and Sweetbriar were ill for weeks before they recovered from the effects of the hemlock.  In one regard Sweetbriar never recovered.  Seeing both of her foals murdered by ax and poison drove her into madness.

She was known to haunt the rooms where they died and sought them about the mansion and their play yard.  She even went down into the quarry seeking her “lost” foals.  Most watched her with pity.

Searching the play yard again, as the year was passing into autumn, Sweetbriar stumbled on something concealed from her sight by her madness.  The headstones of her missing foals, Chance and Sunblossom could no longer be denied.  She avidly read what was on each stone.  Instead of wailing her loss, her heart became harder than the stones of the Crawfeather Quarry.

On a late autumn night with no moon to betray her, Sweetbriar sneaked down into the developing town of Ponyville.  Unseen by any, she poured lamp oil over the front porch and back stoop of the Borden house and set it ablaze.  Cunningly, she did not stay to see how her plot played out but repaired back to Crawfeather, avoiding the many foals out in fanciful costumes.

Entering the house, she beheld the horrid sight of Clyde Borden Hacking at the dead body of her beloved Jason with a double bit ax!  She seized the weapon from his grasp as he pulled back for another stroke!  With the power of her rage and madness, she took Clyde's head from his body in a single stroke!

She dropped the ax, which stuck upright in the floor boards.  In her struggles to drag the corpse of the assassin off of her husband's body, her feet slipped in the spilled gore and she lost her footing! She fell on the ax and the razor sharp blade cut her throat!

The house staff and their foals returned from their Nightmare Night, which had been made more exciting by the deadly house fire that had destroyed the Borden house and, apparently all the remaining Bordens!

The town's newly appointed constables had far more to deal with than the usual Nightmare Night pranks.  At least the feud would go no further. Neither Borden nor Crawfeather remained alive to carry it on.

Canter's reverie was broken by the creaking of hinges.  His ears straining to hear more failed to spot any further sound.  This was not the first such sound that he'd heard, either.  He had traced the first ones to open windows upstairs and drafts making old doors swing.

There was a creaking floorboard behind him!  Whirling about in startlement he saw . . . Cory!

“Just checking up on you, Canter.  Realized that you are missing out on Nightmare Night partying.  Brought you a little to make up for it. Here.  Got you something to drink in the bottle and a bunch of candies.”

“Nice of you, Cory.”

As Canter took the bag, the knife that Cory was hiding behind it plunged up, through the bottom of his jaw and into his brain through the weak area of skull on the underside!

Canter collapsed, dead before he hit the floor.

Cory's gloat of, “Looks like that money stays mine!  You ain't going to see the dawn . . .” was interrupted!

Screaming foals in Nightmare Night costumes ran out of the old parlor and out into the night!  The last one bucked the doors shut!  The locking click of the latch was like a trump of doom!  Cory was panting frantically and pounding on the door when the old handle turned.  The opened door showed a brace of constables waiting to take him to jail.

Canter looked about, sort of puzzled.  Everything was sort of gray, in spite of which, he could see clearly.  There was a pony before him, also gone gray, and a good thing. He had several huge wounds.  At least he was not bleeding from them.  Canter could see furniture through him.

  He invited, “Canter, right?  I am Jason.  Why don't you come with me and meet the rest of the family?”

~THE END~

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#CRAWFEATHER! #MLP Fan Fiction #Tales to read AFTER the Lights are OUT #Written by De Writer

[flowercrownsandherondales]

OMG! Can you do a CordeliaxJames fanfic where James is in love with Cordelia but Cordelia still thinks he’s in love with Grace--and everything is super angsty. And if you’re okay with it, could you add smut? Like angsty sexual tension and then it culminates into *wags eyebrows* you know what? But if you are not comfortable with smut no need to add at all

Sorry about the wait! I didn’t write full-on smut, but I hinted! I hope you enjoy!

Cordelia Carstairs had never been a particularly sad girl.

Not when her mother had told her that she was a disgrace, a disappointment to both the Carstairs and Turan name. Not when Alastair had expressed his embarrassment that she was his sister. Not when he criticized her for her crush on James Herondale. Certainly not when her father, the closest family member she had, just stopped showing interest in his younger daughter. She held her head up, unwavering, as those around her threw stones at the girl. She prided herself on allowing them to not just bounce off of her, but carve her into a more refined woman.

Yet with all this being said, she still couldn’t help but feel her heart shatter as James leaned into Grace, kissing her delicate porcelain lips with ease.

Cordelia had allowed herself one moment,… just one moment to allow sadness and pain to slip into her soul. She allowed it to consume her for just a second, before gathering her golden skirts and trudging back into the reception.

She slumped herself into the bride and groom seating, watching as people danced around her in glee. The redhead fought the urge to tear off her dress, to pluck the ring from her finger and toss it into the river. She fought the urge to scream for her beloved, to take the bottle of rose and toss it at his head. She refused to let any of these feelings consume her for any longer. She was stronger than they all thought.

Alastair had caught his sister’s eyes for just a split second. He caught her blank stare. the way her head tossed back the rose colored alcohol without a care for the delicate curls. Her composure was slipping. He couldn’t let it slip any more.

“Cordelia,” he whispered, coming to sit where her husband should have. “Cordelia pull yourself out.” Alastair encouraged. He knew it was James’s doing, though what had set her off was not something he knew.

“Leave me alone Ala. Since when have you cared?” She said, her voice starting to slur with wine. She continued, “I’m just a foolish girl, right? I’m a disgraceful shadowhunter, a disgraceful Carstairs. I should just have my runes stripped, right? Right Ala?”

Alastair didn’t know what to say. He had seen just a crack of the pain she held tightly in her chest. Just a crack of the evil words she pretended had shaped her. But they had shaped her, shaped her into a fractured statue, one with pieces missing and caverns of holes. And in the middle of each of them was James Herondale, telling her her would love Grace every day of their marriage. Telling her he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t try to see ivory in her flaming hair. That he wouldn’t yearn to feel Grace’s ice instead of Cordelia’s fire.

The conversation stopped with the presence of James Herondale standing behind Alastair.

“I believe that is the groom’s chair.” he said, smiling at his brother in law. Alastair wanted to punch him, wanted to call down the strength of Raziel to blast him into oblivion. But he didn’t. He didn’t have enough bravery in him to right this wrong. Instead he silently stood, kissing his sister’s cool cheek before forcing himself to leave the table.

It was silent between both newly weds. James tried hard not to look at his new wife. He had tried hard not to allow himself to feel anything for her, as if it was an insult to Grace Cartwright, a woman who only loved him when it was convenient for her. He watched the white haired girl dance around with his cousin, real love shown in her eyes when looking at him. How the stars had aligned the two of them, he wasn’t sure. But only moments ago he had told her he was letting her go.

They had made it a mutual agreement. She had released him with a kiss, as Jesus had released Judas. She had found love, real, true love with Christopher. And he, he had found real, true, love with Cordelia.

So James watched as the fiery girl downed another glass, pretending she wasn’t trying to drown out her wedding.

“So how was she?” Cordelia asked, her tongue sobering up with anger. He was taken aback by it, until it all came flooding in.

pain. suffering. despair. anger.

All four emotions came rushing down their marriage rune like a tidal wave. Immediately James knew that the footsteps he thought he had heard while he kissed Grace had been hers. But the pain went farther than just a few moments ago. No, this was from weeks, months, years ago. This was suffering that had been placed on a back burner for years.

He knew what he had done. Usually he would have waited for the redhead to come to him, for someone to save him. But she was passed that point. She was heading on a one way chariot to hopelessness, to recklessness and drowning. It would start with alcohol, but it wouldn’t end until she was face down in the Thames, just as he had been. He tried to stop the panic that went through his chest as she shakily stood up, going towards the drink table.

“We need to go, Daisy.” He muttered, searching for a familiar face in the crowd. Thankfully, the first one he found was his father’s, who had twirled his mother around before catching his son’s glance.

William rushed to his son, pushing passed drunken souls and laughing faces to get to the groom. Tessa held tight on his trail, rushing to her golden eyed son.

“What is it?” Will asked, trying to seem like he was there to congratulate the happy couple, instead of trying to sneak them out of their own wedding. James wearily glanced at Cordelia, who just shot back another drink as she filled up her glass.

“We need to leave. But I don’t want a congregation to be there.” James explained. Will smirked for a moment, his mind wandering to why his son would be eager to get home with his new wife. Tessa caught it, hitting his chest and glaring.

“She isn’t alright, that much is obvious. I don’t claim to read people’s emotions well, but this one, this one needs someone to hold her together.” Tessa said, taking in the sight of the new bride.

Will sobered up at the thought, nodding to his son.

“I’ll distract the Carstairs, Tessa, you grab the carriage and horses.” Will ordered, grabbing the bottle of rose from the table and striding off towards Sona, Elias and Alastair. Tessa ran off to the stables to grab the horses.

James grabbed Cordelia, who didn’t struggle against him or try to hit him, but instead just slumped against his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, repeating it into her ear multiple times. She relaxed even more, letting him carry her to the carriage.

Tessa softly ran a hand through Cordelia’s hair, mothering the girl who seemed to accept her love. After slowly lulling the girl to sleep in the carriage, she grabbed her son.

“You better take care of her. You know what it’s like to be there. You better pull her out like we pulled you out.” Tessa said sternly, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a tight hug.

“I love you, mom.” James said, holding his mother tightly. She kissed him on the cheek before ushering him into the carriage, shutting the door and urging the driver to take off.

James held Cordelia in his arms, rocking her gently as they went off.

The next few days in the Herondale manor was spent nursing her to health, holding her hair back as she vomited the alcohol and pushing the bottles away from her. He whispered words of love and encouragement to her gently, telling her why she had seen him with Grace, and when he had decided that she was the one for him. He had asked her if she had wanted him still, despite everything she had told him. She had cried, grabbing him into a tight hug and whispering her own words of love.

It took them almost six months to lay in the bed together, allowing each other to explore not only the mental aspects of themselves but physical. It was beautiful, and at that moment he knew, he knew that the stars had aligned them together.

#jordelia #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #the last hours #cassandra clare #@cassandraclare #tessa gray #will herondale #Jemma #JULIAN BLACKTHORN #emma carstairs #the mortal instruments #tmi #shadowhunters #Clary Fray #Jace Herondale #Jace and Clary #fanfiction #TMI fanfic #fluffy fanfic

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Daughter of a Righteous Man -Chapter 9

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Nine, When the Light Dies Out

Ava

"Team, this is Detective Winchester. She will be starting here at the precinct. She has a great track record form her previous department outside of Seattle. Make her feel welcome," Sheriff Jody Mills said. "Your desk is over here." She pointed. "Make yourself at home."

I nodded and smiled. I lowered myself into my chair and ran my hands along my new desk. I was getting my life back. I would only be working four days at first, and Sam would work Wednesday through Sunday. John or Bobby agreed to watch Nel when neither of us were home. They all wanted me to go back to work. To be happy. My old Sargent gave a glowing review. I was hired almost immediately.

"So, Ava. Why do you want to work here?" Sheriff Mills asked, crossing her arms.

"I have a three month old baby," I began. "But before I was a mother I was a damn good detective. I lost myself, and I want to find that girl again. There are two places I feel at home, with my family and with my work. I need to give myself that second home again."

Jody smiled widely. "I have a son. I know exactly what you mean." She took out my file. "I spoke to your Sargent at your old office. He spoke very highly of you. He was sorry to see you go, but I figure his loss is my gain. We need some more strong willed women in this department. Welcome to the team, Detective."

"So, Ava. I'm Lacey." A woman came up to me, extending her hand. She had a badge attached to her hip. "It's nice to see another woman in this building. It's starting to smell like bacon and axe body spray." She grinned widely. She had shorter strawberry blonde hair.

I laughed warmly and leaned back in my seat.

"I'm surprised Sheriff Mills let you come right in and be a detective with no grunt work. You must be good,” Lacey added.

I shrugged. "I already did the boys club song and dance. I earned my spot every day. Guess it counts for something after all."

"Guess so." She grinned. "Haven't seen you around much. Did you just move?"

"A few months ago. I had a baby, so I'm just getting back to regular life."

"Please tell me you have pictures."

I grinned. It was so nice to talk to someone new. Someone who didn't know me. "Of course I do!" I pulled out my phone and pulled up a picture of Sam holding Nel out to the camera. They were both smiling.

"Oh my gosh she's so cute! And who is this handsome guy? Is this your husband?"

"No,” I said weakly. "It's my brother in law."

"Is he single?" Lacey grinned at me.

"No," I said flatly.

The rest of the day was paperwork, and training videos. The most exciting part was my gun certification. It felt good to hold my weapon in my fingers. To feel the cool metal. Before I hunted monsters, there was always an easy answer. Everything could be solved with a pair of cuffs or a gun.

I yearned for that simplicity some days. I took in a deep breath and held it. I only pressed the trigger when I released my breath. Zing. Head shot. I blew through my eight required shots like nothing. Four chest and four head. Flawless. Sheriff Mills offered to buy me a drink off the clock to celebrate.

"Rain check, Sheriff. It's my first real day away from my little girl, and I miss her."

I spent the whole day trying to be the badass cop again, but I still pumped in the bathroom during my lunch break. I was dying to see Nel.

"Give her a kiss for me," Jody said with a nod. "You did good today."

"Thank you."

When I pulled up to the house it was almost dark. My training had taken longer than expected. My breasts were full, and my shoulder was sore from shooting. I was out of practice. I was ready to fall over when I unlocked the door. The house was dark, and I wondered if Sam dropped by Bobby's. I clicked on the light and was suddenly assaulted by sound.

"Surprise! Happy birthday!" Sam had Nel on his chest in a baby wrap. Bobby and John were in the living room as well. It was a pathetic party, but something came over me. He remembered. He wanted to surprise me.

I walked to Sam and pulled him into a hug. "You didn't have to do this."

"Sure I did." He grinned. "We don't really celebrate birthdays, but you deserve a party."

I glanced around the room. "This is a party?"

He laughed loudly, and laced his fingers with mine. "We need to make friends."

"I'll say."

"I ordered take out from that Thai place you like."

I grinned widely. "You're the best!"

"Hey, birthday girl," Bobby said walking to me. I released Sams fingers and let Bobby hug me. "Twenty seven. Wow. Does this mean I'm old?"

"Without a doubt."

"Let's have a drink." Bobby offered, pulling me into the kitchen. He took out the whiskey and poured himself a glass. "So do you want to tell me what's going on with you and Sam?"

I swallowed hard, my blood running cold. "What do you mean?"

"I may have been born at night, Ava, but I wasn't born last night."

I sighed. Shit. "I don't know, Bobby. We are living... we are trying to make it through."

"He's a good kid. You know I think that, but isn't it a little soon?"

"Of course it is," I hissed. "But you've seen me, Bobby. I've been a corpse! I've been dead. I died that day with Dean. I want to feel something. Anything good."

His expression softened, and he sighed. "Damn it, kid. Is this really the way?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But it may be way too fucking late to take it back."

"It's never too late, kid. If he cares about you then he will take the hit. Just be honest. That's all you can do."

Sam

"Son, Who are you two trying to fool?" Dad asked.

"What?" I was bouncing Nel. Ava and Bobby had just went into the kitchen.

"You and Ava. Your brother isn't even cold in the ground and you're with her?"

I cleared my throat. "It isn't any of your business, Dad."

"The hell it isn't. You think you can just wiggle into her life, into my granddaughters?"

"So now you're this caring father? You care about Dean now that he's dead?"

"Don't start with me, Son. Where's your respect for your brother? How would he feel?"

"It doesn't matter," I said, broken. "He isn't here. If he was here it wouldn't even be an issue." I shook my head. "I promised him I'd take care of her, and I'll be with her however she wants me. Now, this is Ava's birthday, and if you care about her like you pretend to, then put on your happy face, eat dinner, and then go the fuck home."

I was grateful that Eleanor was too young to understand. She was asleep, her face pressed against my chest. I put on my best smile and walked into the kitchen. "Ready for dinner?"

"Sure," Ava said with a smile. "But first I want baby snuggles."

I unwrapped Nel from my chest and handed her over to Ava.

"God she's so beautiful. Hi little one." She kissed Nel’s face and hummed gently to her. "I'll go put her in her swing."

Ava walked out of the kitchen, and I laid out the dinner. It was awkward. It was obvious that Dad and Bobby didn't approve of Ava and I, but I didn't care. If she wanted me, I would be there. It was Ava, and I against the world.

"How was your first day at work?" I asked Ava as we were digging in.

"It was really good! I renewed my gun certification, and I got my badge."

"You're official." I grinned.

I insisted that she should go back to work. She was getting stir crazy in the house. I knew she missed being a part of the force.

"Yup, and I met my partner. Another girl, Lacey."

Bobby groaned.

"What?" Ava asked, sucking a noodle into her mouth.

"That Lacey has arrested me multiple times. She's strong for a skinny thing."

"Uncle Bobby, your picture is up in the office. You're the town drunk." She eyed him.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Got him."

The dinner ended up okay. We were laughing and drinking. Ava had one drink, but that was enough to make her eyes relax. Bobby and Dad left after we had cake.

I was leaning over the dishes, so she wouldn't have to wash them, and she walked up behind me wrapping her arms around my waist. "Thank you for tonight. It was wonderful." She pressed her lips to my back, and I smiled.

I dried off my hands and turned around to pull her into a hug. She was so small, about a foot shorter than me. "It isn't over yet, birthday girl."

Ava

I raised an eyebrow at Sam, my hands resting on his chest. "It isn't?"

"Nope." He kissed my forehead. He reached into his pocket and handed me a small velvet box.

My heart pounded. The last time a Winchester gave me a box like this it held Mary's wedding ring. The ring that still rested on my finger.

"Open it." He urged me.

I glanced at him. Sam didn't want to marry me. That was fucking crazy. We were friends. We were sleeping together, and just trying to be. We weren't in love. I sucked in my breath and opened the box.

A necklace on a silver chain hung three stones. "Oh my god, Sam."

Blue topaz, aquamarine, and an emerald.

"Our birthstones. Yours, mine, and Nel’s," he said excitedly. "Our family."

Our family minus one.

I stared at the necklace, and even though the gesture was right I still couldn't breathe knowing it was missing an important piece. A garnet for Dean.

"I love it," I choked out.

"Let me put it on you."

I turned around. Sam draped the necklace on my neck and clasped it. "You look beautiful," He said when I turned around.

"Thank you."

"I was thinking. Can I pick you up from work tomorrow?" He ran his fingers through my hair.

"Why?"

"I want to spend time with you." He smiled. "Please."

I met his green eyes, and I melted a bit. "Okay."

He leaned in to kiss me. "You look tired. Head to bed and I'll finish the dishes."

I brushed my teeth, and got into my pajamas. I cuddled into bed and closed my eyes. The necklace felt hot against my skin, and I twisted the wedding ring on my finger.

"Ava wake up."

"Hmm?" I opened my eyes sleepily to find Dean sitting next to me holding a cupcake with a lit candle in it. "What?"

"Happy birthday, sweetheart." He smiled at me. His cheeks lit up by the candle.

I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. "How did you know?"

"I've always known. We were just on a case and well... we don't celebrate birthdays."

"We don't have to."

"You're special, Ava," Dean said with smile. "If anyone deserves a birthday it's you. Make a wish."

I closed my eyes and thought it over.

What could I wish for? 

His hand brushed mine and I knew.

I wish for this. Me and Dean together forever. I want seventy more birthdays. I want children and a yard. I want more late night drives and stolen kisses. I want to spend my life making Sam uncomfortable in the Impala when Dean, and I get carried away. I want a life for him.

I want it all.

I blew out the candle and opened my eyes. The moment I opened them I caught him kissing me. He was still holding the cupcake, and I glanced at it. I took it out of his hand before he could notice, and I smashed it into his face.

He opened his eyes in shock as the cupcake hung off the side of his face. "Ava Langston!"

"Dean Winchester!" I teased.

He grabbed my face and rubbed his icing covered face on me. I laughed and kissed him. He tasted sweet. I never wished on a candle. At least not as an adult, but in that moment I hoped with everything in me that it would come true. That'd I'd never have to say goodbye to this man, because even though we couldn't admit it... we were real. We were in love.

—————

Chapter Ten, 161,280 Minutes

Get caught up!

Tag List:

@xjamiedennettx

@deans-baby-momma

#the look in her eyes #fanfiction #writing #mine #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #fic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x ofc #deanxoc #dean winchester x ofc #sam winchester #sam #sam winchester x ofc #sam x ofc #dad!dean #dad!sam #otp #angst #mutual pinning #love #romance #major character death #bobby singer #john winchester #supernatural au

[lambroseforlife]

writing prompt: one shot of Lilly and Ambrose solving a murder where she figures out who the murderer is before he does

Wow, my apologies for how late this is. This prompt took some planning and research. Not to mention, I also had exams and applications to finish while being sick all at the same time. Anyway, here you go! This is a detective AU that takes place sometime around the mid-20th century (~1940s-50s). This is a pretty LONG read compared to my previous works so I decided to split this prompt into two parts.

Many people seem to be pissed with the ending of HfS so feel free to read this as a pick-me-up for your mood. This oneshot isn’t too terrible, I promise.

— — —

Riiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiing.

“Hello, this is Empire Investigations. How may we be of service? ….Yes …Yes ….Of course. Why definitely, right away.” Click.

Knock. Knock. 

“Mr Ambrose?”

“What is it, Miss Linton?”

“It’s a call from the police station. They said a new civilian case came in. One that they want our help for.”

“We are currently busy. Did you complete the report for the last case?”

“Yes I did, sir. They said that this new case involved a murder.”

Silence.

“They also said that the client would be willing to pay double for any third-party investigators involved. Provided that the culprit is found.”

The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the cramped office and a moment later, a door opened.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Miss Linton? Let’s go! We have no time to waste.”

— — —

New Scotland Yard was in a state that could best be described as utter clamour. Once the two detectives were granted access inside the North building, they were met with an all too familiar sight for a typical evening at the compound. Phones rang persistently, multiple conversations overlapped over one another and uniformed officers bustled throughout the vicinity.

“Mr Ambrose, Miss Linton.” The front desk receptionist greeted, her auburn curls bouncing as she nodded to them both. “Inspector Dalgliesh has been expecting you both. He’s waiting in his office.”

They proceeded several floors above to the directed location and stood outside the glass-panelled door. Miss Linton paused, about to knock before entering when her boss opened the door and marched in without preamble. She blinked before following.

“Ah, welcome. I trust that my message was delivered then?” The blond, uniformed officer looked up from the pile of papers on his desk at them both, steel-blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Effectively.” Mr Ambrose glanced pointedly at the young woman standing next to him.

The Inspector’s eyes followed his and a radiant smile appeared. “Miss Linton! How lovely it is to see you again.”

“Cut the pleasantries, Dalgliesh.” Mr Ambrose all but growled. “What case is so difficult that you had to resort to hiring outside detectives with persuasion of monetary incentives?”

“Incentives that seemed to work nonetheless. And that’s Inspector Dalgliesh to you, my old friend.” All amusement vanished and his tone instantly took on a serious edge.

“No less than a few hours ago, close to seven o’clock, a Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald was found dead in room forty-five on the third floor of a hotel called The Sleeping Siren. Her husband had received a note to meet her there and when he did, he discovered her bloody corpse sprawled across the bed.”

Reaching into a file laid out in front of him, he pulled out some papers and set it down on the edge of the table for them. Upon closer inspection, Miss Linton realised that they were photographs. They were of grainy and somewhat faded quality but surprisingly they were in colour, unlike typical black-and-white ones. Taken from various angles, they clearly showed a young woman lying on a patterned bedspread. Her doe-shaped eyes were bugged out and delicate mouth ajar, a telltale sign that her last moments were spent in horrified shock. Her pointed chin and angular jaw were marred with angry red blisters, the same shade as her rouge-painted lips— but it was her slender neck that was grotesquely disfigured. The remaining skin at her throat was mottled purple, bloodied and torn, ripped apart as if it were frantically clawed at. As a result, bone and tissue underneath was also exposed, revealed for all to see.

In response, Miss Linton’s gaze automatically trailed down to the corpse’s hands which, sure enough, were clad in leather gloves that appeared to be coated with blood at the fingertips. Speckles of blood were on the victim’s tailored white princess-cut coat that looked rather expensive. Black tweed pants peeked out from under the hem and trailed down to meet a pair of shiny, suede flats.

Miss Linton snuck a sidewards glance at her employer who was still studying the pictures, his blank expression betraying no emotion. She looked up to the see the Inspector staring at them both, his hawk-like gaze intense.

“Naturally, he reacted as any other devoted husband would. Or so from what the hotel staff informed us. He bolted from the room, yelling for help. A staff member heard and upon seeing Mrs Fitzgerald’s body, immediately had someone call us. It caused quite the ruckus and in addition, Mr Fitzgerald’s gardener, Edgar Stone, was also discovered to be present near the scene. From what we have been able to find out so far, he was also inside the hotel for an unknown reason. He is currently being detained there for questioning.”

He paused and Miss Linton jumped in. “If the police is already involved, then why were we also called here too?”

He met her gaze levelly. “I was getting to that, Miss Linton. Mr Fitzgerald is convinced that his gardener was involved some way in all of this. Adamantly insists that he is the culprit, actually. But that doesn’t eliminate him as a suspect either. Nonetheless, Mr Fitzgerald is quite the wealthy man and demanded for additional investigators to be assigned to the case. Promised that he would compensate warmly for the effort given that the true culprit is proven guilty.”

He looked down as he began to rearrange his papers. Folding his hands together, he returned his attention to the two individuals in front of him.  “And that’s where you both come in. Your agency has a singular reputation with its track record and experience in solving cases.” His gaze lingered on the tall man, steel blue eyes drilling into sea-coloured ones. “Your presence here confirms that you have chosen to accept the case, but I need verbal agreement as well. Are you two up for this?”

“Yes.” Mr Ambrose and Miss Linton firmly stated at the same time.

“Good. Then let’s go to the crime scene.”

— — —

Despite Miss Linton’s prior experiences on dealing with a few murder cases, the goosebumps that settled in her skin upon registering the smell of death was an instinctual reaction that somehow still refused to diminish with time.

Room forty-five of The Sleeping Siren was left in a state of shambles. It appeared that the place had been torn asunder, as if a miniature storm had paid a visit. A few framed paintings were thrown about on the dusty hotel carpet, joined by clusters of glass shards from what formerly appeared to be a vase— evidenced by the paraffin-coated wax comprising the scattered bouquet of fake flowers.

A plastic sheet covered the former Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald while uniformed members of the forensic investigative team flitted about the room, each dedicated to their own assigned tasks. Miss Linton stepped forward, about to lift the covering over the corpse when one of the officers spoke up.

“Miss, we request that you refrain from touching anything at the moment. We are still gathering evidence and need minimal contact as possible.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She looked around to see that the other members were all wearing rubber gloves. She noticed that some appeared to be collecting samples while others were dusting a powdered substance over different surfaces.

“That’s for finding fingerprints, right?” Miss Linton asked Mr Ambrose, indicating with her chin.

“Yes.” He answered. He turned to Inspector Dalgliesh, who was next to him. “There’s no point in standing around here waiting for them to finish.Take us to the key witnesses.”

“Valid point.” He led them out of the room. “With whom do you wish to speak to first?”

Ten minutes later, Miss Linton and Mr Ambrose were seated in the staff break room located on the ground floor— used as a makeshift interrogation room for the time being. In front of them sat a small, balding man with a round face. Miss Linton suspected that he was the type to usually maintain a cheerful disposition save for the current occasion. He was quivering as he blew his nose loudly into a crumpled handkerchief.

“W-What may I do for you?” His big eyes shone with tears.

“I am Mr Ambrose and this is Miss Linton. A ‘Morton Fitzgerald ’ requested for additional investigators to be assigned to the case regarding the death of Caroline Fitzgerald. I’m guessing that is you?” Mr Ambrose’s eyes bored into the smaller man sitting across the wobbly wooden table.

“Y-Yes?” Mr Fitzgerald’s eyes began to shine with fear as they darted back and forth between the two people facing him.

Miss Linton decided to interject, clearing her throat. “Mr Fitzgerald, we are the extra investigators that you asked for. We just wanted to ask you a few questions. I know that a lot has happened here tonight and we are as intent as you seem to be on finding your wife’s killer. Why don’t you tell us about what happened here tonight from your perspective?”

He seemed to relax slightly at Miss Linton’s gentle tone. Sighing, he clasped his hands together. “Well, this afternoon when I was on my lunch break, I was surprised to see that Caroline had left a note for me in my lunchbox asking me to meet her here after work.”

“Do you still have the note?” Mr Ambrose interrupted him.

The short man looked at him warily. “I did but the officers took it with them when they questioned me earlier.”

“Very well then. Continue.”

“To be more specific, the note had told me to meet her in this hotel in room forty-five at seven pm with no other explanation given. I was surprised that she wanted to meet outside in some random, cheap hotel given her recent state.”

“Her recent state? What do you mean by that?” Miss Linton asked him.

“Since last week, she had caught a cold. Her health has always been rather delicate and from the winter air, she’s had a recurring fever.”

“Was she behaving strangely prior to today? Any odd behaviours?” She pressed.

“None that I could think of.” His lips turned downwards.

Miss Linton was busy writing down her notes when she thought of another question. “This is more of a personal question but what was your marriage with your wife like?”

“An amazing one. We met two years ago and I was immediately smitten from the first time I saw her. I proposed marriage to her a few weeks later on a whim expecting rejection. Imagine my surprise when she accepted it. I’ve been a lucky man to marry the woman of my dreams only to see her taken away from me today.” Tears slid out of his closed eyes.

“We’ve sidetracked from the main question.” Mr Ambrose deadpanned, side-eyeing Miss Linton. “What happened after you saw the note?”

“I put it in my trouser pocket and went back to work as usual. When work finished at six, I went home to drop off my things and sure enough, Caroline was not there. I found a cabbie that knew where this hotel was since I had never heard of it. The driver dropped me off in front of the entrance and I headed inside. I asked the receptionist for directions and then took the lift to the third level. I found room forty-five immediately and knocked on the door. There was no response so I knocked again and called out Caroline’s name. Still no response. I checked my watch to make sure I was on time and it was seven o’clock on the dot. So then I decided to open the door only to witness the worst sight of my life. My beloved wife lying dead on the hotel bed.”

He blew his nose again as he sobbed. After a minute he calmed down enough to speak again.

“Naturally after I had registered what happened, I ran from the room yelling for help. A cleaning maid nearby heard me and when she entered the room, she ran out immediately and called the receptionist. He came up shortly, saw Caroline, and called the manager to dial the police.”

The two detectives listened with apt diligence, multitasking as they continued to jot down notes. Miss Linton decided to press for more details.

“Apparently your gardener, Mr Edgar Stone, was found here too? What can you tell me about that?”

Mr Fitzgerald’s face instantly morphed into one of anger when he heard the name.

“That—! That no-good, lowdown scum! I’m telling you, he’s behind it all! He must have murdered my Caroline! Who else could it have been?”

“Did you see it happen?” Mr Ambrose asked him.

“What?”

“Your claim that your gardener murdered your wife. Did you see it happen?”

“Well no, but—”

“Then how can you say that without definite proof?”

Bold red splotches appeared on Mr Fitzgerald’s already ruddy cheeks. “Now see here, Mr Ambrose. It’s under my demand that you’re even here in the first place. Without my say, you won’t even get the money that I’m offering if you can’t find the murderer.”

Mr Ambrose opened his mouth to retort when his employee jumped in.

“We are grateful for your graciousness, Mr Fitzgerald. We really are.” Miss Linton threw a warning glare at the man sitting next to her. “That reminds me of another question I had. Considering your eager willingness to give a generous reward, I’m assuming that you have a well-paying job. Where do you work?”

“Not as well-paying as I would like, Miss Linton.” He sighed dismissively. “I merely work as a salesman for an insurance company. However, I’m lucky that I’m an only child. My father was a wealthy man and when he passed away, most of his assets went directly to me, including his estate.”

“I see.” Miss Linton scribbled more notes. “That will be all the questions from my end. Do you have any more for Mr Fitzgerald, Mr Ambrose?”

Silence.

“Alright, then that concludes our time together. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Fitzgerald. I assure you we will do our best to find the culprit.”

— — —

“Let’s go back to the crime scene. The forensics team should be almost done about now.”

True enough to Mr Ambrose’s words, they were. They appeared to be gathering bags to collect items.

“Wait,” he told them. “Miss Linton and I wish to investigate the room.”

“But we’re almost done,” a man Miss Linton assumed as the leader of the team protested. “We can’t afford any delays in analysis.”

Mr Ambrose gave him a look.

“Well on second thought, I suppose that it would help to have more pairs of investigative eyes.”

Mr Ambrose ignored him. “We need gloves.”

Someone from the team complied and handed a pair to both Mr Ambrose and Miss Linton.

Mr Ambrose marched over to the body and promptly lifted the covering. “Now Miss Linton, what can you tell me when you look at Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald?”

She stepped closer and stood next to him. “Hmmm…compared to the pictures that the Inspector showed us, the number of blisters on her jawline have increased and some of the skin tissue has undergone degradation. In addition, the region on her neck seems to be more decayed. More of her windpipe appears to be visible with some of the bone corroded.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“Her posture appears to be slightly more stiff so I would guess that rigor mortis has begun to set in. Mr Fitzgerald told us that he was here at seven pm so I’m estimating she died shortly before his arrival.”

“And what more?”

“Hmmm…wait! What’s this?” Something peeked out of one of the alabaster coat’s pockets. Miss Linton reached forward and slowly pulled out a patterned scarf. As she did so, something else tumbled out onto the bed.

“A silk scarf and a pair of sunglasses. Interesting.”

“Maybe for the cold weather?”

“Perhaps. Does anything else stand out to you?”

She shook her head and frowned. “Am I missing something?”

“Look at her hands.”

“But they’re covered by bloodied leather glov— oh!”

She looked at him and he nodded while glancing pointedly at his own rubber glove-clad hands. Why had Mrs Fitzgerald not taken off her gloves when she was inside the room? At first glance, it would have seemed she left them on since she was sick but Miss Linton thought it was still strange. She suspected there was something more. Something that probably had to do with why Mrs Fitzgerald had come to the hotel in the first place….

“We’ve looked at the body for long enough.” Mr Ambrose’s voice snapped Miss Linton out of her thoughts. “Time to inspect the rest of the room.”

He carefully placed the covering over the body and stepped back. As he did, a small table next to the bed came into view and Miss Linton saw something that caught her eye.

“Why is there a glass here? Is this supposed to be wine?” She picked up the clear flute filled with golden liquid, inspecting it.

Mr Ambrose bent over and picked up something on the ground by the table. “I believe so. Sauvignon Blanc, going by what this bottle says.”

Miss Linton leaned closer, sniffing the flute and immediately recoiled.

“What the—? Is white wine supposed to smell this strong? It’s overpowering like perfume!”

He also leaned over and cautiously took a whiff. “How unusual. This bottle is empty so there’s nothing to compare the glass to. The rest of the wine must have spilt on the ground when the bottle fell. But to answer your question, Miss Linton, wine doesn’t typically smell this…overbearing. This wine also appears to be a few shades darker than your usual glass of Sauvignon Blanc.”

“I see. I didn’t realise you’re a wine connoisseur.” She set the glass back on the table.

“I am not. Watch your step, there’s broken glass.” Mr Ambrose instructed as they stepped around the mess next to the bed.

“Hmm, I wonder why these paintings were knocked over from the wall. Wait, what are these markings?”

They both bent down to take a closer look at the faint dark-tinted smears on the backside from one of the frames.

“That appears to be some kind of dried-up liquid. One might even assume that it bears an uncanny resemblance to dried blood.”

They exchanged a long, significant look.

Standing up, Miss Linton also noticed more smears on the other paintings as well as on a few shards of the broken vase. The pair headed into the bathroom and spotted various items lined on the sink’s edge along with a black purse resting on the closed toilet lid.

“Are these supposed to be the victim’s belongings?” Miss Linton called back to the forensics team.

“We believe so, Miss. All of the items currently lined along the sink were found in the purse which originally was set on the sink’s side. One of the items is an identification card that matches the victim’s name and most likely her current address.”

Miss Linton picked up the small blue booklet labelled “Identity Card” and flipped it open. Sure enough, the name written was “Caroline Elaine Sambridge Fitzgerald”. She set the booklet back down and glanced at the other items. Wallet, coin purse, makeup, various keys including the one for the hotel room and…

Two identical bottles of perfume?

Miss Linton’s gaze automatically focused on the bottles laying side by side. The amber colour of each was the same shade but one bottle was half empty while the other appeared to be nearly full. She began to unscrew the pump sprayer of the half-filled bottle.

“What are you doing, Miss Linton?”

“Inspecting the perfume bottles.” She brought the bottle to her nose and warily sniffed it, then held it out towards her employer so that he could do the same. “Oddly, this scent reminds me of the wine.”

She twisted the sprayer back on and recapped the bottle. She carefully unscrewed the other bottle that was nearly filled. As she began to bring it to her nose, she paused abruptly.

“Bloody hell!” She held the bottle out towards Mr Ambrose and he slightly stiffened. She began to quickly screw the sprayer back on. “This bottle reeks! Nothing like perfume whatsoever. Smells more like cleaning product.”

She took out her notebook and ripped out a blank sheet of paper. She then ripped the sheet into two halves and wrote “almost full” on one and “half full” on the other. She set them down on the edge of the sink and then carefully sprayed each perfume bottle once onto its respectively labelled scrap of paper.

“I want to test if they’re different substances,” she explained to the man observing silently next to her. “There’s a chance that they might look different on papers once they dry. We do have to wait though so we should double-check the rest of the room in the meantime.”

They left the bathroom and searched the hotel room one more time, making sure that they did not miss anything. Upon finding that they had not, they returned back to the bathroom and Miss Linton gasped.

“I knew it!” She stared down at the two pieces of paper. “I knew they were different substances.”

The evidence lay in front of her, as clear as a crystal. One piece of paper had not changed colour while the other was covered with black splotches.

— — —

“Let’s split up.”

“Split up?”

“As my apprentice, you need more practice on your own. So for the remaining witnesses, we’re going to take turns speaking to them. Afterwards, we will compare information. Consider this a test for your skills.”

“Alright, sir. So how do we proceed?”

“I will question Edgar Stone, the gardener. You’ll speak to the hotel receptionist and the maid. Then afterwards, we will switch.”

Ten minutes later, Miss Linton was seated back in the staff break room. In front of her sat a man, a pair of spectacles resting on his sallow-face. His displeased gaze and crossed arms gave her the feeling that their conversation would not be as smooth as she desired.

“Mr Hieronymus Pearson, my name is Miss Linton and—”

“Save the introductions and pleasantries, Miss Linton. You know who I am and I certainly know who you are.” The corner of his mouth curled into a sneer. “You’re here to ask me questions about what happened here tonight, aren’t you? You should speak to the manager instead. I’m innocent and you’ll get no useful answers to help your case from me.”

“I will determine that.” Her expression remained unchanged but her tone lost some of its lightness. “Let’s begin now. What were you doing when—”

“When the murder took place? I was attending to the other guests as a receptionist should.”

“Where were you—”

“At the front desk. Where else would I be? Ask more sensible—”

“Mister Pearson.” Miss Linton’s voice cut through his, her tone sharp. “I’m the one asking questions here so I would appreciate it if you allow me to finish them.”

“Why should I?” He shot back. “For the past few hours, I’ve been asked these repetitive, inconsequential questions, over and over again by others. And I’ve already answered them countless times. This is pointless.”

“Fine.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me ask you this, Mr Pearson. What duties does the job of a receptionist entail?”

“Pardon me?”

“You are pardoned. Now answer the question.”

“As a receptionist, my job is to make sure that the guests are checked in and out. Along with that, I am tasked with making sure that their stay here is the best it can be. For the past five years, I have been doing exactly that until the mess that has happened tonight.”

“That’s all?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Frankly, I’m disappointed in you, Mr Pearson. As a receptionist, you are much more than the two sentences you used to describe your job. For the past half decade as you put it, you are essentially the face of this establishment. You are the first and last person people see when they are here. Now tell me, in refusing to cooperate with the authorities and law enforcement for something that your higher ups would view as part of your responsibility, how would it look like to them?”

“I…”

“Would they reward you with that raise you’ve been hoping for? Probably not, huh? More like with a permanent vacation, most likely.” She raised an eyebrow

He remained silent, looking at her as one would at a ghost: pallid and bug-eyed.

She sighed. “Look, I know it hasn’t been an easy night for you. But trust me, the same applies for me as well. I don’t want to waste your time so if you give me your cooperation, I will give you mine. Why don’t you tell me what happened from your perspective? If anything is unclear, then I will ask some questions afterwards. Does that work?”

Mr Pearson stared at her for several moments. Finally, he spoke softly. “That arrangement sounds much better, Miss Linton.”

He uncrossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “Around six thirty this evening, I did see Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald enter our hotel. But at the time, I didn’t know it was her. It wasn’t until after her body was discovered later that I found out who she was. Anyway when she walked in, most of her face was covered with a scarf and a pair of sunglasses. I found it odd to see that she kept walking past the lobby and into the elevator without removing them. However at the same time, another guest was talking to me about a problem with their room so I could not call out to her without seeming rude.”

Mr Pearson took a breath as he continued. “Five minutes later, I received a phone call from room forty-five to have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc along with one glass delivered and left outside the room’s door. The guest’s voice was definitely female. Nonetheless, I placed the order to room service and from what the staff informed me right after the police arrived here, the wine bottle and glass seemed to be brought into the room shortly after they were delivered.”

He paused when he noticed Miss Linton scribbling furiously into her notepad. 

“Continue,” she urged. “I can listen while I write.”

“Close to seven pm, I saw who I’m guessing was her husband, Mr Fitzgerald. A short, balding young man? He walked up to the front desk and asked me where room forty-five was. I gave him directions and pointed him to the elevator. Shortly after, I receive a phone call from the third floor from Daphne, one of our maids, that there was a dead body in room forty-five. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing so I went to go see for myself. The husband was sobbing in the hallway as I entered the room. When I spotted the body on the bed, I recognised her as the lady I saw entering earlier because of her long white coat. I informed our manager right after and he immediately called the police.”

He exhaled. “Before the police arrived, I saw someone else enter the hotel. He was the man who had actually booked room forty-five a few days ago for today. The reservation was made under the name Edgar Stone but I’m not sure if that’s his real name. I also don’t exactly know what his connection was to the couple but when I informed him that there was a dead body in his room and that the police was arriving, he stared at me in shock. When he asked who it was and I told him it was a young lady, he tried to run towards the elevator but had to be held back by some of the staff. When the police arrived and Mr Fitzgerald was told to go wait in the lobby, he saw Mr Stone and a fight ensued. They were both yelling at each other, trying to land physical blows, and had to be restrained by the officers. It was only when they were told that they would be arrested if they didn’t stop that they finally calmed down. Afterwards, I was taken into the spare rooms for questioning by the officers multiple times along with the rest of the staff and have been here for hours. That’s all from my perspective, Miss Linton.”

She nodded slowly. “I do have one question, Mr Pearson. When Mr Stone made the reservation, you gave him the key to the room, right? How many copies did you give him?”

He looked surprised. “I only gave him one, of course. He said the reservation was just for one person which I assumed to be him.”

“Alright, thank you for your time and cooperation, Mr Pearson. That will be all from me.”

“Very well. Thank you for making the process easier, Miss Linton.” He stood up and walked out.

After a minute of reviewing her notes, she called to the officer waiting outside the break room. “You can let the next person in, I’m ready.”

Soft footsteps shuffled into the room and Miss Linton looked up to see a young woman sit down across from her timidly. She appeared to be no older than eighteen, nervously looking at the brunette detective in anticipation.

“Miss Daphne Belleville, correct?” The young lady nodded apprehensively and she continued. “I’m Miss Lillian Linton and I have been assigned to investigate the murder of Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald. I have a couple of questions for you since you were present shortly after her body was discovered. Shall we proceed?”

Miss Belleville nodded again.

“From my understanding, you work as part of the cleaning staff for this hotel?”

“Yes,” she spoke shyly. “I’m a maid here. I was hired in January.”

“Close to a year then. Why don’t you inform me of what happened to you earlier tonight?”

“I was cleaning some of the rooms on the third floor. When I was changing the bedsheets in one of the empty rooms, I heard a shout for help. I followed the voice to see a man sobbing in the hallway. He told me that he opened a room door and saw his wife lying dead on the bed. I tried to calm him down as best as I could to no avail. He told me the room number when I asked him. I went to the room myself and nearly fainted when I saw the dead lady. I ran out into the hallway to the staff phone and called our hotel receptionist, Mr Pearson. He came up immediately and phoned our manager to call the police. In the meantime, I stayed with the husband to make sure he didn’t do anything reckless. When the police arrived, they gathered the entire staff and questioned us individually. We’ve been here for hours and I’ve had to phone my mum to let her know what happened.” Her shoulders slumped and Miss Linton could see the young lady’s exhaustion from the dark circles under her eyes.

“I see. Is that all?”

“I believe so, I don’t think there’s anythi— Oh! I just remembered something!” Her expression livened as she stared at Miss Linton.

“Yes?”

“Around ten to fifteen minutes before the man called for help, I could have sworn that I heard a scream. It was so quick though so I’m not sure if I imagined it.”

“Did the scream sound like it came from a male or female?”

“Female…I think? I don’t exactly know.”

“Alright. Is that everything you can recall then?”

“Yes. If I remember anything else, I will let you know, Miss Linton.”

“Alright, Miss Belleville. Those are all the questions I have. We’ll do our best to solve this as quickly as possible so you and the rest of the staff can return to your homes sooner.”

“Thank you, Miss Linton.” She gave the detective a small smile as she stood up and made her way out.

Once Miss Linton was alone in the break room, she sighed deeply as she rubbed her temples.

One more person to go, she thought while staring at her notes. Edgar Stone. He’s the final key to all of this. I’m sure I’ll know who the killer is once I speak to him.

— — —

END PART 1

How is it so far? I hope you’re enjoying reading this prompt. Any possible ideas on who the culprit could be?

#kinda an ask #answered #storm and silence #lilly linton #rikkard ambrose #daniel dalgliesh #fanfiction #oneshot #writing prompt #prompt 3 #part 1 #knowledgeispoweristimeismoney

[prjctc]

My Kingdom for a Memory

On the outskirts of the city proper existed a small community, blessed with attention from the king which many would consider wasted. Within this suburb, nestled snugly against the stone walls of Light’s Cradle, there lived an old medicine woman. It was said she once provided for many as an excellent marksman and tracker, alongside her late husband. Now, however, Old Prairie was renowned for her stock of herbal medications and well tended greenhouse.

It was the latter which interested Stelzkan most, admittedly. All manner of magical plants had multiple uses, so long as the one working with them were imaginative and patient enough to draw out their potential. Especially the herb which he had learned her to be in possession of.

The Seraph Blossom, a plant folklore claimed capable of performing miracles, was an extremely rare specimen. Many lived out their lives without seeing the bloom at all, and because of this it was chalked up as being nothing more than a legend by common folk. Stelzkan had lived long enough to know what was fact and fiction, and the only fiction regarding this herb was that it held some sort of divine power. No, the truth was far stranger than the fiction in this case.

“Knock, knock.” The wily thief allowed himself inside the medicine woman’s humble abode with no such social graces, riling a start from the elderly Prairie. She remained within her rocking chair, thin pipe held between her quizzically parted, noticeably dry lips.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Stelzkan? You do know I only deal in medical supplies, yes?” The woman lifted her free hand, waving for him to take a seat. As he obliged her, Prairie finished with, “Though I suppose nothing is so simple with your ilk.”

“You wound me, madam!” Stelzkan laughed, letting his hair down and leaning back in the soft, cushioned chair she had invited him toward. He played with the red band between his index and ring fingers, “To say such things of the Totemic! Truly, prejudices run thick with your generation!”

This managed to pull a laugh in turn from the woman, her well groomed, grey mane of hair bouncing along with her shoulders as she carried on, “Forgive and forget. Though do not think I’ve forgotten how you left me high and dry way back when. I wouldn’t suppose you’re finally returning my bundle of vulpelut hides?”

The thief raised a finger, prepared to make a point, before becoming noticeably stumped at that. With a flutter of his hand he pressed the conversation forward following a scoff, “Oh, I am certain you fetch far more coin from your current trade. Must have been doing you a favor before you could realize it.” He smiled innocently, but the expression his host returned proved that she could see right through him.

“Out with it before I cast you out, rat.”

“Fine, fine, let’s remain calm,” His eyes widened at that, a sigh escaping him as he forced himself out of the most comfortable seating arrangement he had found himself seated in in quite some time. Retrieving the photograph from his satchel, he pulled the red hairband about his wrist with his opposite hand deftly, “Your son, he claims you to have something of incredible value. Something,” he passes the picture off to the woman coyly, “a little more potent than your upfront supply.”

Staring at the framed image of her family, Prairie showed signs of longing for such memories to be brought back to the present. Enchanted, though still aware enough to not let it keep her from shop, “You seek the Seraph Blossom, then?”

“That I do.”

#Stelzkan #Prairie #jump

[noneya-business-me]

Married life pt.2

Lance was seething, he slammed the door of the cafe open and stormed out to the car. He had driven Keith out to the cafe, but at this point he didn’t care. He could find his own way back into the city. “Shiro’s probably hiding nearby anyways.” He grumbled, putting his sunglasses on and flying out of the parking lot. He took a deep breath trying to calm down before he got to his and Zarkon’s favourite lunch spot. He greeted the valet with a warm smile, handing him the keys to the car. He was escorted inside, right to his table where his husband was patiently waiting. “Hello darling,” Zarkon greeted, rising from his seat and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Hello honey.” Lance greeted back with a matching smile. Zarkon pulled out the seat for Lance to sit in before sitting back down himself. “How was shopping?’ He inquired. “Good as usual. We defiantly have to start tipping Casey, she is a gem.” He laughed, before his eyes narrowed sharply. “How did the meeting go?” He asked cooly. “They agreed to merge with us, as expected.” Zarkon replied with a smirk, “just like you said they would.” Lance’s grin widened. “I’m always right, aren’t I?” “That you are.” He liked being able to show this side. The person that he really was; and the only person he could show and still be loved was his husband. He raised his glass of red wine up to his lips, taking a slow sip. “We have to stay on our toes from now on.” Lance added. “How so?” Zarkon asked, raising a brow. “They’re on to us.” Lance replied, “Or onto you I guess.” If it was even possible Zarkon’s brow raised even higher. “They still think that I have nothing to do with the ‘business’. They think I’m your stupid trophy husband.” He explained, looking at his nails. “I mean it could be an advantage in the long run, but still.” “That’s interesting.” Zarkon stated simply. “It could be because most of my ex friends are on the police force.” He laughed, “They still see me as the person I used to be.” Zarkon chucked lowly. “Anyways I guess they’re close to finding something, because Keith said ‘at this rate I’ll be going down with you’.” Lance stated, taking another sip of wine. “You were talking to him?” Zarkon asked in surprise. “Yeah, I ran into him today while I was shopping.” Lance replied, with a laugh, “basically spilled everything to me.” Zarkon shook his head with a snort. Soon they were done lunch and were heading back to the mansion. Zarkon jumped in the car he had brought to work while Lance followed him back in the Ferrari. Once they reached the front doors the driver was there to take the cars back into the garage. Zarkon waited on the step for him as he bounced up and took his arm. They both walked up the steps and into the house. Suddenly Lance froze in the doorway and looked back out across the large lawn. “What is it Lance?” Zarkon questioned in a whisper. “Something’s not right.” He whispered back, stepping into the front foyer and closing the door. He looked at Zarkon in worry. “I just thought back to what Keith was saying.” Zarkon gave him a questioning look. “He couldn’t have just come here to warm me,” A slight panic took over his tone, “they have something on you.” “Shit.” Realization took over Zarkon’s face. “What do we do?” Lance asked, “I can’t lose you!” Zarkon gently took Lance’s face in his hands and guided them to look up at him. “It’ll be alright.” He cooed, “I promise.” Both their eyes narrowed at the same time. “We have to take matters into our own hands.” Zarkon stated. “I have plenty of favours I can call in.” Lance added pulling a small notebook out of his coat pocket. “Let’s get started.” Zarkon said, opening the door to the study, “We don’t know how much time we have.” Police (POV) They had set up in the local police station, filling the borrowed office with their boxes of case files. “You talked to him today!” Hunk yelled in Keith’s face, “we’re supposed to have zero contact with him.” “I know, I’m sorry. He kind of caught me off guard.” Keith sighed. “Dude, it was the only rule for you and you broke it.” Pidge added, taking a sip from her coffee cup. “I know!’ Keith snapped. “You’re lucky that we’ll have the warrant in our hands in a few hours or you would be screwed.” Pidge giggled. “Then this whole mess will be over with.” “Did the witness show up yet?” Shiro yawned, walking into the office. “Not yet, he should be here soon though.” Keith replied, “he sent me a text saying he was on his way over.” “There’s an officer with him right?” Shiro questioned. “We weren’t in charge of him, so I don’t know.” Hunk replied, ruffling through some of the case papers. “Shit.” Shiro hissed, stepping back into the bullpen, but was surprised to see Officers running out the doors. “What’s going on?” Shiro demanded, grabbing one of the Officer’s arms. “Murder.” He stated, “right in front of the station. We have to get his body out of there before people see.” He followed the stream of people, catching a glimpse of the man. He was the witness that was the key to finally getting Zarkon. “Damn it!” He shouted. He seethed in anger as he slammed the door back into the station. “Call the Judge!” He yelled, “We need that warrant now!” Pidge was already on the phone waiting for them to pick up. Normal (POV) Lance smiled as he hung up the phone. “It’s done.” He stated, “how’s the paper shredding going?” “Very well, thank you.” Zarkon replied, throwing the shredded paper into the fireplace. “My inside guy says the team has a warrant in progress but they still won’t have it for another few hours.” Lance said, “we still have time to leave.” “That would make us look even more suspicious.” Zarkon replied, “we want to maintain that we’re innocent.” Lance sighed heavily, “I’m this close to calling in the family.” He hissed. Zarkon smiled warmly. “This is why I love you,” he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, Yeah. Whatever.” Lance pouted, “I’m going to go change into my pyjamas.” He yawned loudly going up the stairs to the bedroom and changing into short black shorts and a blue tank top. He glanced out the window as he was coming down the stairs, seeing multiple bright headlights headed towards there secluded mansion. His eyes widened in sudden realization. “ZARKON!” He screamed, “THEY’RE COMING!” He stumbled out of the study and up the stairs to where Lance was staring out the window. He looked at Lance who’s face was creased in worry. He grabbed his arm lightly and guided him into the bedroom. “Just pretend we’ve been asleep.” He whispered, using the automatic app on his phone to turn off the downstairs lights. Lance shook beside him as they heard the multiple vehicles pull up outside the doors, and the loud scrape of feet on the gravel. He stilled as a smirk made its way onto his face. He leaned into Zarkon’s ear and whispered something before with one loud bang the doors were forced open and the yelling started.  Orders were being shouted and soon enough loud voices were coming up the stairs towards the bedroom. He screamed as the door was forced open, and the lights turned on. HIs husband was dragged from the bed and down the stairs before he could even process that this was actually happening. “You’re not allowed to do that!” He screamed, latching onto one of the armed officers. “Stay back!” He grunted elbowing Lance’s face. He fell to the ground clutching his nose that immediately started gushing blood. His room started being torn apart. “Stop!” He screamed, as he jumped to his feet. He ran from the room and down the stairs still holding his face, when he could hear Zarkon shouting at the Officers. He stumbled down the stairs nearly falling, blood dripping on the clean marble. His house was being ripped apart. In the study papers were flying everywhere, he hoped Zarkon had been able to burn everything. The furniture was being ripped apart looking for any sign of weapons. He fell to his knees with a loud sob, he could barely hear the desperate yell from Zarkon. All too suddenly there were hands on him. He looked up to see the familiar face of Keith. He narrowed his eyes dangerously, a face so full of hate and malice took over. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” He hissed, getting to his feet and gaining the attention of the rest of the team. “What happened to your face?” Hunk asked. “One of your fucking police buddies elbowed me in the face!” He screamed. “Lance, you need to calm down. We’re only here to help.” Shiro stated. “Help? Are you serious?” He snapped back. He spread his arms wide, motioning to the chaos around him. “Does this look like you’re helping me? People are literally tearing my life apart! My house is destroyed, my face got bashed in, and my husband is in the back of a police car!” His gaze shifted fully onto Keith. “I asked you specifically not to ruin my life Keith.” He growled, “Specifically.” “What happens now?” He asked, his nose still dripping, “Do I stay here? Do I go with him?” Keith looked down at the ground in shame. “Answer me!” He yelled, “I may be pissed, but I’m still confused.” “Just come with me.” Shiro said, grabbing his arm, and dragging him outside. “I don’t have shoes on!” Lance yelled, as the stones dug into his feet. “If you’re going to act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like a brat.” Shiro snapped, slamming him down on the front of the squad car. He quickly search him, and cuffed his hands behind his back. “I didn’t do anything!” He wailed, “You’re the ones that assaulted me!” “Shiro, what are you doing?” Hunk hissed, “we don’t have any charges on him.” Lance smirked his face still facing the cop car. “You c-can’t d-do this!” He sobbed, when Shiro ignored the others and threw him roughly into the van with  Zarkon. “Lance, darling. What happened to your face?” He asked with concern. “T-they h-hit me.” He wailed sitting up. He gave them one last glance as the doors were shut and they were left alone again. His sobbing immediately ceased and he sat on the bench next to him, resting his head on his shoulder. “All according to plan.”

#voltron #lance mcclain #keith #zarkon #hunk #shiro #Pidge #crime au #mafia?