#I recently realized I was allowed to sell AU stuff

[suketchi-s]

important news!!

RedBubble shop is now open! 🎉

... with a total of 6 designs, from originals to AU stuff! (will add more as I get permission to!)

Watcher belongs to @euphoricfoolssys, you can find mals shop here!

#I recently realized I was allowed to sell AU stuff #so here I am! #so exciting :3 #glad I get to use the sprout icon for something! #my art #infected home au #watcher wally #redbubble #merchandise #stickers #shop #independant artist

[albakore]

Office Adventures

Synopsis: (office!au) Sometimes Kaeya’s ideas can be brilliant. Other times you wonder how this man even made it this far in life. This time, however, the outcome is a little different than you expect…

Characters (together): Diluc, Kaeya, Thoma/Tohma, Childe, and Zhongli (fem!reader)

Warnings: not sfw (18+), like pure unadulterated filth. public-ish sex, voyeurism, unprotected sex, vibrator, masturbation, Diluc fucking you while everyone else watches because i am Diluc’s whore before i am human,

part 2

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘•⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ ⊰ ⋅•⋅

It felt so downright perverted to be acting this way. You tried your hardest to stay focused on the presentation in front of you but your mind kept drifting back to the device that was sitting between your legs. Kaeya had managed to slip a vibrator in your underwear right before this meeting, after he pulled you into an empty office and worked it inside of you. He pulled up the app on his phone and tested it to make sure it worked properly. It did, much to his delight (and your dismay.)

Zhongli was up at the front presenting some information about this months sales. He was flipping through various infographics in the presentation he had prepared, motioning to them every so often to accentuate his point. Diluc was sitting across from Kaeya jotting down notes as he went, next to him was a bored looking Thoma. Childe occupied the seat on the Kaeya’s left and was very keenly watching Zhongli as he presented. The seat to Kaeya’s right was empty, as that’s where Zhongli had been sitting. You watched Kaeya reach for his phone again that was sitting on the table in front of him. He tapped the screen a few times and you felt the vibrations inside of you grow stronger. You pressed your thighs together desperately trying to mask what was taking place. You couldn’t help but chew your bottom lip desperately trying not to let your pokerface drop.

“Ms. (Name), are you alright?” You heard Kaeya call from across the table, interrupting Zhongli. That little shit, you thought. You took a deep breath to help calm you down, putting on the best neutral expression you could muster before glancing up and meeting Kaeya’s mischievous smile.

“Of course. Why do you ask?” You tried to ignore how all of the men’s eyes glanced over in your direction. You could feel your impending orgasm looming as the vibrator continued to buzz inside you still even with all their gazes on you.

Thoma chimed in this time, completely oblivious. “You’re looking a little flustered, do you need to step out for some air?” Your eyes drifted to meet his, a genuinely concerned expression on his face as he scanned over you for signs of sickness or injury.

“I’m fine, really,” you assured him quickly, “I just picked the wrong day to wear this outfit.” You joked, motioning to your matching blazer and skirt that were made out of the same thick material. You added in a smile to really sell your excuse, fanning yourself to make it seem like maybe the heat was just getting to you.

Zhongli, who had been interrupted in the middle of his presentation, cleared his throat to take the attention away from the disruption. “Well, this is the last slide so if you’ll allow me to get through this then you can go back to your office and cool down a little. May I?” You nodded your head quickly and added in a small sorry before you ducked your head back down to focus on the notes in front of you. You were grateful when you felt the attention slowly shift off you and back to Zhongli.

Your mind drifted again with Zhongli’s voice as the perfect background noise for your fantasies that played in your mind. You thought again about Kaeya pulling you into that office right before this meeting with his fingers working you open slowly saying he had a surprise for you. You two had joked about doing something like this before, but you never thought he had the gall to actually go through with it. He was definitely enjoying this entirely too much, you could tell by the way his attention shifted from his notes to study you every so often. Whenever he altered the frequency of the vibrator, your resolve would fall just briefly and you’d allow yourself one shaky breath as your fists clenched and your eyebrows furrowed, desperately trying to fight the orgasm that had been creeping up on your for what felt like forever now. You were completely unaware of the vermillion eyes that would drift your way every time your face would scrunch or your hips would shift.

“And with that, we’re done for the day.” Zhongli’s concluding statement cut through your lewd thoughts. You let out a sigh of relief thinking about how you wanted nothing more than to get out of this meeting room and to the privacy of your own office. Zhongli returned to his spot at the table beside Kaeya and began gathering up his papers. The rest of the men also shuffled their stuff together, starting to stand from their seats and stretch.

“Say, Kaeya,” Childe’s voice cut through the shuffling. You watched in slow motion horror as he reached out and grabbed Kaeya’s phone that had been sitting face up on the table while Kaeya had stepped away from his seat to go return something he grabbed before the meeting. “What is this app you kept toying with throughout the meeting?” He asked as he examined Kaeya’s phone. Kaeya’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think of a way to draw Childe’s attention away from the phone without being obvious. As Kaeya opened his mouth to reply, Childe tapped something on the screen.

“Wait!” You and Kaeya exclaimed in unison but it was too late, the vibrator in between your legs kicked up a few notches and in a matter of seconds the orgasm that Kaeya had had you dancing around for the last half of this meeting came crashing down. You let out a loud, sultry moan as you ducked your head to keep some sense of your dignity as the men watched you clench your legs and squirm in your seat. Kaeya quickly made his way back to his phone and snatched it away from Childe, cutting off the vibrations. There were a few beats of silence as the men all watched you carefully while you caught your breath, head still lowered and hands still gripping the arms of your chair harshly. The realization of what just happened finally hit you as your head cleared. The fucked out expression on your face shifted to a mortified one as you tried to think of some sort of response.

Childe’s voice rang out hesitantly from the other side of the room, “uh, sorry..”

Instead of addressing his apology you used every ounce of courage in you to spit out a ‘please excuse me’ before getting up from your chair and promptly exiting the room. You ran for the nearest empty bathroom and locked yourself inside, suddenly thankful for the first time ever that your office had single person bathrooms. Your back hit the door as your head reeled from the events that just took place, embarrassment washing over you. I’m gonna get fired, you though bitterly, they probably think I’m disgusting. You slowly reached down and pulled back your underwear to see the soaked mess that had become your panties. You sighed, pulling them up again before your eyes met the mirror. Your appearance was disheveled: your lips were swollen from biting them to stifle your moans and your legs were still shaking from your recent orgasm.

A loud knock sounded on the door behind you. “(Name)?” Kaeya’s voice called out. “…I know you’re in there.” He added after a few moments of waiting for you to respond. You still didn’t answer his calls so he continued, “they’re all waiting for you to come back.” Your heart dropped. What does that mean? Are they going to discuss the consequences of your actions already? Why so soon? Couldn’t they wait and sleep on it?

You turned around hand gripping the door handle as you took a deep breath to calm your racing heartbeat, figuring it best to face this head on. You opened the door with a click only to be met with Kaeya’s fist inches from your face, evident that he was about to knock again. “There you are!” He quickly withdrew his knuckles and gave you a quick concerned once-over.

You glanced around nervously to make sure he was alone before slumping against him. He pulled you into his embrace as his way to apologize for the events that took place. He knows it was his bad to leave his phone out there like that, especially given the fact that Childe knows his passcode. He stroked your back a few times soothingly, allowing you to inhale his scent hoping that it would provide you some comfort.

“C’mon, let’s not keep them waiting.” He spoke after a few moments before gently taking your hand to lead you along behind him through the hallways. You approached the meeting room again in quick strides, your anxiety climbing higher and higher the closer you two got.

Kaeya stopped in front of the meeting room door and turned to face you, sensing your anxiousness. His hands grabbed your shoulders gently. “There’s no need to be nervous. You’re not going to get in trouble or anything of the sort, I’m certain of it.” He leaned forward and let his lips rest against your ear, “I’m also certain that they all had a boner when I left them. I mean who wouldn’t after the show you put on.” A shiver ran up your spine at his words. You opened and closed your mouth a few times trying to form some sort of response, but before you could he had turned around and pushed open the meeting room door.

“Where is she?” You heard Childe ask. You peaked over Kaeya’s shoulder into the room. The men had returned to the seats they had been in during the meeting.

“(Name).” Zhongli addressed you firmly when his gaze met yours. You squeaked and ducked behind Kaeya again. The man in front of you chuckled before taking a few steps into the room, motioning for you to follow. You swallowed thickly before taking a few tentative steps.

Kaeya closed the door behind you as you finally straightened your back and addressed the men in front of you. “Um…” you tried to keep eye contact with them to appear more collected than you actually were but quickly found your fleeting confidence fading. Instead, you settled for fixing you gaze on the ground in front of you. “I’m very sorry for what happened.”

“Did he force you into this?” Diluc’s question caught you off guard.

“N-no!” You stammered quickly. "He and I talked about it beforehand." You said assuredly, not wanting your actions to reflect worse on Kaeya than they already had. Your cheeks burned and your shoulders were tense. “I know it was very unprof-“

“(Name), come here.” The firm words from Diluc caught you off guard. You studied him for a second, trying to read his intentions. Kaeya finally took his own seat across the table from Diluc. You made your way past Thoma to where Diluc was sitting before you paused. Diluc patted his thigh to motion for you to sit there. It caught you way off guard. You noted how Kaeya was absolutely right, though you couldn’t see Childe or Zhongli, you could definitely see both Diluc and Thoma were noticeably hard. You went to straddle his thighs but he stopped you. “Other way.” You turned yourself around and settled against him with your back flush with his chest. It took everything in you not to grind against his boner that was even more noticeable now that it was pressed against you.

His lips met the shell of your ear. “Is this alright?” He asked, fingers hovering over you, waiting for your permission for him to touch you. You nodded, swallowing thickly and his hands came into contact with your skin. Diluc’s fingers worked to hike your skirt up. He let his fingertips ghost up and down your outer thigh a few times, pressing a kiss to your neck. He pushed his chair back from the table and spread your legs wide to make sure the other guys could see what he was doing to you. He stopped again briefly as his fingers came to rest on the edge of your panties, waiting for your go ahead before pushing them down your thigh. He paused to admire the string of slick that connected your sex to your underwear. You didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed before Thoma let out a groan beside you at the sight. Diluc continued working your panties down your legs until he slipped them off completely and tossed them on the table in front of you two. Next, his hands reached down and pulled the vibrator out of your cunt that Kaeya had stuffed in there with a quiet squelching noise. He held it up and examined the way it was coated completely in your arousal.

“I can turn it on, if you want.” Kaeya offered as he watched the scene in front of him intently. His signature cocky smirk had returned as he noticed how wet he had gotten you with his vibrator.

“Please do.” Diluc answered, turning his attention from the toy back to your cunt. “May I?” He whispered in your ear as the hand not holding the toy traced the skin below your bellybutton down to the area just above your clit and back up again.

“U-uh..” you hesitated, gauging the reactions from the men around you. Zhongli’s gaze was fixated on you. He was leaning forward on his elbows, his fingers locked together resting over his mouth. His irises looked like they were quite literally glowing as he drank in the sight of you. Otherwise, he looked completely calm. His breath was slow and steady and he was relatively still.

Childe had never looked more relaxed in his life. He was slouched against his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee and his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. His boner couldn’t be any more obvious as his eyes languidly trailed up your body, down your body, and back up again. He was truly basking in the sight in front of him.

When your gaze shifted to Kaeya he made sure to hold eye contact with you. He licked his lips seductively, eyes trailing down your body before snapping back up to your complete the eye contact again as he sent you a wink.

If there were any doubt left in your mind after looking at those three, that was all dispelled when your eyes drifted over to Thoma. He already had his cock free and was pumping himself slowly as his eyes stayed fixated on you. His cheeks were flush and his breath was fast, and the tip of his cock looked deliciously red as you watched his thumb swipe over it.

It had only taken you a few moments to be sure that none of the men in front of you were uncomfortable with what was happening before you gave Diluc the go ahead. A simple, but firm, 'yes' left your lips and in mere seconds the vibrator that he was holding roared to life, courtesy of Kaeya of course. He pressed it to your clit and immediately you mewled, back arching off his chest. You rocked your hips against the device and in turn also rocked yourself against Diluc’s boner that was growing harder by the second.

“D-Diluc,” you whined. “I want you inside of me.” You panted, focusing on grinding against him. He hummed at your request, pressing a few more open mouth kisses up your neck. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your mouth parted slightly.

“Let me prep you first.” He stated, shifting his arm and wrapping it under your thigh so he could insert two fingers into you. Your slick coated them easily, allowing him to add a third finger. He stretched you as much as he could slowly and gently, pumping his fingers in and out of you. After a few moments he pulled them away from your cunt before putting his fingers, now coated in your slick, up to your mouth. You took them in without hesitation, sucking and licking them. “Good.” Diluc praised. You locked eyes with Zhongli first, then you moved to Childe. Childes hand had also found it’s way inside his pants and was pumping himself lazily as he watched you.

You released Diluc’s now clean fingers from your mouth. “Unzip me.” He instructed, one hand working to unbutton your blouse the other one still had the vibrator pressed to your clit. You reached under you and unzipped his pants, hand trailing along his clothed dick eagerly. You pushed down his underwear and leaned forward to allow room for his cock to sprang free. You pushed back and let yourself rub against him eagerly.

He finally withdrew the vibrator from your clit so he could put both his hands on your hips to guide you onto him. He let out a low groan as he sank into you, your walls clenching around him. He bottomed out and allowed you to just sit there like that for a few moments to adjust to the girth he had. Slowly, he lifted your hips before sliding you back down again. You let out a wanton moan at the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you. Diluc finally replaced the vibrator on your clit again, causing your thighs to tense around him. You placed your hands on his knees and took the lead lifting yourself up and down, slowly speeding up as the slightly painful stretch was replaced with immense pleasure. Beside you, Thoma moaned your name, matching his pace to yours as he worked himself to his own orgasm. Kaeya upped the speed of the vibrator again, enjoying watching you squirm around Diluc's cock.

Zhongli had even taken to pleasuring himself, his stoic expression fixated on watching as Diluc disappeared into your heat only to come back out again coated in your arousal. You were positively drenching Diluc's cock, leaving a wet spot on the chair underneath you two. Moans — hng, a-ah, mmh~ — left your lips as Diluc's other hand found your nipple, toying with it. Your legs started shaking as you got closer to your orgasm, but you tried to push through it to continue riding Diluc. He picked up on your fatigue quick though, and in return he lifted you up and bent you over the table in front of him, grabbing your hips from behind and pushing back into you. You moaned his name again, cheek squished against the hard tabletop, hands splayed beside your head.

"Diluc! I'm gon- I'm gonna c-" you desperately tried to choke out, feeling another strong orgasm coming on as the man slammed into you over and over. His tip curved perfectly into your sweet spot, making you arch your back. He groaned again at the feeling of your smooth walls throbbing around him.

"Let go, angel." You heard him murmur behind you. With one loud whine, your walls clamped around him as you creamed all over his cock. He let out a low 'fuck' as he was launched into his own orgasm, burying himself inside of you before filling you up with his seed. You glanced behind you to watch as Thoma coated his own hand with his cum, moaning your name loudly. Childe had also made a mess out of his shirt when he shot his semen in spurts all over it. Zhongli's hand was still working himself under his dress pants — and then you noticed Kaeya. Kaeya hadn't bothered to touch himself at all, cocky smirk plastered on his face as he stood up from his chair while you and Diluc caught your breaths.

"Is it my turn now?" Kaeya mused as he took slow deliberate strides toward you. This was going to be a long night.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #diluc smut #diluc x reader #diluc oneshot #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #childe x reader #childe smut #tohma x reader #thoma x reader #thoma smut #tohma smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #office au

[rocorambles]

Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.  

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult. 

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for! 

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step. 

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line. 

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity. 

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor. 

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder. 

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing. 

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes. 

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think. 

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate. 

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place. 

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission. 

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm? 

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have? 

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes. 

Or so you believe. 

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds. 

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods. 

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path. 

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.” 

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.  

 You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers. 

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.” 

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd. 

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants. 

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place. 

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable. 

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

 “So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

 “Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face. 

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you. 

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right? 

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.  

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home. 

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of. 

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you. 

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru. 

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.  

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries. 

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.    

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”. 

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips. 

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame. 

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.  

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing. 

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch. 

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”. 

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four. 

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting. 

And history repeats itself. Over and over again. 

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you. 

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock? 

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth. 

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint. 

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of. 

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy. 

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases. 

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.” 

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with. 

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it. 

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him. 

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you? 

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use. 

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose. 

Anything, huh? 

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him. 

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly. 

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary. 

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases. 

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast. 

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.” 

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face. 

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim. 

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy. 

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.” 

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll. 

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.” 

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #tw: yandere #tw: drugging #tw: drugs #tw: addiction #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

[unnamed-atlas]

Pspspsp info dump 👀

Ok so in season 1 of Mianite there's this place called Ianarea which is basically a kingdom dedicated to the goddess Ianite. There's a part of the kingdom that's in the end and seems to be actually ruled by Ianite and then there's a small area in the overworld and the lore for all of it is really vague from what I remember so I decided to rework all of it. So in the AU there's still the part in the end ruled by ianite, but then there’s an overworld kingdom by the same name that is not ruled by Ianite but in dedication to her, so most of the people living there are followers of Ianite. She spends a lot of her time in the overworld in this kingdom.

Phil, Tubbo, Tommy, Wilbur, Techno, Niki, and Eret all live in this kingdom. Phil, Tubbo, Tommy, Wil, and Techno all live together, Phil being the head of the household having taken the other four under his care at varying ages.

Phil is an inventor who’s most well known for his invention of the elytra, makeshift wings that can be used by humans for limited flight. He owns a shop where he sells his inventions and he’s well regarded in the community as the type of person you can come to for help with any problem. When he’s not working in the shop he’s either hanging out at the library with Tubbo to do research for his new inventions or bailing Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy out of trouble. 

Tubbo works as an archivist at the kingdom’s library. He works closely with Ianite and the royal family to record and preserve the history of the kingdom and of the gods, as well as to take care of the library and its other contents. 

Techno is a young anarchist who used to travel the world by himself before being forcibly adopted as Wilbur’s friend when he was passing through Ianarea. He’s well known around the kingdom for his habit of sneaking both himself and occasionally Tommy and/or Wilbur into the kingdom’s political meetings to cause problems on purpose. He also has a tendency to screw around with the royal guard members who patrol the streets of the kingdom during the day, often distracting them by departing them about political philosophy while Wilbur and Tommy cause problems on purpose. After traveling for so long he’s gotten really good at fighting and teaches Tommy and occasionally Tubbo combat and self defense. When he’s not causing problems on purpose he’s usually helping Phil around the shop.

Wilbur has a similar rebellious streak to Techno, though he does it more for the aesthetic and fun of it than for any actual political philosophy. He has a habit of stealing things just to see what he can get away with and he’s become a fairly good pickpocket, though Phil’s been trying to get him to stop. He has a love for the ocean, having grown up in the area of the kingdom near the harbor, and had even wanted to be a pirate when he was younger, much to Phils chagrin, but he never learned to swim and so became put off by the idea. He instead works as a musician now, playing at local taverns and restaurants. 

Tommy picked up Techno and Wilbur’s want for rebellion, but Tubbo’s strong moral compass has also rubbed off on him over the years, so after learning how to steal stuff from Wilbur he became a bit of a robinhood type figure around the kingdom, stealing for the good of the people. Of course he does also tend to participate in Wilbur and Techno’s mischief just for the fun of it as well. He’s gotten into countless fights with business owners and the royal guard and more often than not ends up having to be bailed out by Techno and Wilbur. When he’s not causing problems on purpose he’s known to spend his time keeping Tubbo company at the library.

Niki is one of Wil's childhood friends. She owns a bakery and volunteers at the library alongside Tubbo in her free time. She’s honestly most of Wilbur’s impulse control besides Phil. The boys all spend a lot of time hanging out in her bakery, and more than a few times she’s had to hide them from the royal guard.

Eret is another one of Wil and Niki's childhood friends who grew up to join the royal guards. Wilbur and Tommy aren't exactly thrilled at this development and tend to avoid him after he joins. Techno still thinks he's chill though and always makes a point when he's messing with the guards to stop by and visit with Eret at his post. He sometimes gets posted at the library and so he and Tubbo chat pretty often and are on friendly terms. He and Niki are close so he visits her in the bakery fairly often, and he tends to go to Phil for advice when he needs it since he grew up around Phil being Wilbur's friend. Honestly him vouching for Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy is probably most of the reason the three of them have gotten away with as much as they have.

One of the big inciting incidents of Mianite s1 is that Ianite is captured by her brother Dianite. The actual timing of it all is really vague in the series itself but I generally assume that this took place before the beginning of the series. So. AU plot pre Mianite s1: Ianite invites Tubbo to travel with her to Mianite where she’s meant to meet with Mianite to discuss some things regarding recent events and changes they’re thinking of making to their realms and such so that Tubbo can record the events of the meeting to be filed in the library of Ianarea. They shouldn’t be gone for a month or two since Mianite isn’t too far away, so Phil allows Tubbo to go on the trip. He travels with Ianite to Mianite, meets Mianite, Declan and Champwan, and the Wizards, and records the events of the trip and of the two gods meeting, and it’s going great. Then the whole thing with Ianite being captured by Dianite happens and basically Tubbo ends up captured alongside her.

And so the plot of Mianite s1 starts. Everyone starts arriving in Mianite. Tom, Tucker, Sonja, Jordan, The Modesteps, Nadeshot, the gangs all here! And they start picking their sides as followers of Dianite or Mianite, and Jordan does his whole “haha i’m on my own team i’m team Ianite” without realizing Ianite is actually a real goddess, and the next morning he wakes up and there’s this fucking ghost in his house. Except it’s not actually a ghost, it’s Tubbo! Because they're still aware of what’s happening in Mianite while having been captured by Dianite, Ianite basically saw Jordan declare himself her champion and went, “well, okay, he’s our best bet here.” and used what powers she could still access to tether Tubbo’s soul to Jordan and sends him to go look after Jordan and do his best to keep him safe and kind of lead him in the right direction towards saving the two of them.

So Tubbo and Jordan are stuck together. Tubbo doesn’t really tell Jordan much at first, he does even give him his name, just kinda hangs out, gives him advice, leads him towards the right decisions and such. And it goes on like this for a while, because no one else can see Tubbo, except, it turns out, Mianite and Dianite. Mianite basically just doesn’t acknowledge it. But Dianite’s definitely a bit pissed off when he sees Tubbo with Jordan for the first time. 

Eventually though, Techno, Wilbur, Phil, and Tommy show up on the shores of Mianite! They came all this way looking for Tubbo since he had never come back home like he was supposed to. They meet up with Jordan, Sonja, and Tucker, who are fairly weary of the travels considering the last unexpected visitors to arrive in Mianite unexpectedly had been the pirates. So the boys explain why they’re there, tell them about Tubbo, and Jordan hears these guy’s description of their friend, looks to Tubbo beside him, who had seemed uncomfortable since Phil, Tommy, Techno and Wil had arrived, and has this whole moment of just “oh shit” as he realizes the kid they're looking for is the specter that’s been following him around for months.

Tubbo all but demands that Jordan does not tell them about him. And this is the point in the story, when Jordan returns to his base after talking to SBI, the Tubbo and Jordan finally have a heart to heart and they actually start being productive.

    This is most of what I have figured out for the AU, at this point, but I do have a few one-off ideas for later on in the story. At one point in Mianite Ianarea is destroyed by Dianite and the Mianite gang discovers this upon traveling there. At this point Eret and Niki will end up going back to Mianite with the Mianite gang + SBI. I know, at one point, that I want to have the wizards do something that makes it so that everyone can see Tubbo again, maybe for a limited period of time, maybe for the rest of the story, but yeah, sappy reunion time there. I’m thinking about maybe adding a few other people to the Ianarea gang, like Fundy, Quackity, maybe Scott, but we’ll have to see about that cause I won’t do that if I can’t do it in a way that works naturally for the AU.

What I do know for sure is that there will be a happy ending, Tubbo will be saved alongside Ianite and be reunited with his friends and no I will not tolerate any alternatives.

Anyways yeah this is literally three pages long. Anon you asked for an info dump and you got one :) I’d love to hear what y’all think or any ideas you might have since this au is definitely a big wip

#2 hours. 3 pages. and 1700 words later. here we are! #bro i don't even have a name for this au yet #long post #but here you go i hope you appreciate it :) #i had fun writing this all out honestly #now i have to go do homework though lol

[sonicrainicorn]

Only Us (Part 2)

Part of the Berry Done AU

Words: 10459 Desc.: Thomas and Logan have always been close. From the moment Logan was born, Thomas swore he’d do anything for his baby brother. Unfortunately, it was a promise to be taken to the extremes. (First part here) TW: Character death (mentioned), anxiety attacks, attempted rape/non-con (mentioned), relationship abuse, there is also exactly one (1) swear word

I’m actually a little sorry for this one.

///

It must have been a day after the funeral. Logan was in his room, laying stomach down on his bed with his face in the pillow. He didn’t want to do anything. Thomas was in the kitchen making cookies from scratch. Unlike Logan, he needed to do something. And then there was a knock at the door.

Logan didn’t think much about it at first. Yeah, it was a little weird, but maybe it was important mail or someone who tries to sell stuff. That happened sometimes.

He heard Thomas open the door and... let that person in. Okay. That didn’t normally happen. Still, it might not have been important. Maybe. Yeah, okay, Logan was curious now. He rolled out of bed and shuffled to his door.

There was a deep voice coming from the other side that he didn’t recognize. He didn’t focus on the words at the moment, he was more focused on the voice and the millions of questions it gave him. Who was it? Why were they here? What could they possibly want?

He tried to be as silent as possible as he snuck out the door. He didn’t want anyone hearing him for fear that they may stop talking. He learned recently that adults stop talking about important things when they see that a kid is nearby. But he wanted to know those important things. He peeked down the hall.

Thomas sat with a man at the dining table. The man wore nice clothes, but nothing that could be considered fancy. He looked serious, though. Thomas didn’t seem too happy about what he had to say. And then Logan heard the words “emergency foster care”. This man was a social worker.

Their mother had no siblings. There were no aunts or uncles or cousins to take them in. Her parents died before either of the boys had a chance to know them. There was no one to fall back on.

He and Thomas were going into foster care.

“We’ll try to be contacting your father as soon as possible,” the man explained. “But until then, you will have to be placed with an emergency foster family.”

“No,” Thomas said, borderline indignant. “I can take care of Logan myself. I-I helped raise him. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m sorry, but this is how it has to go. You two have to be cared for by a legal adult.”

“I’m going to be a legal adult. I turn eighteen next week.”

“And when that week comes you get to see him as much as you wish.”

Logan didn’t want to hear this anymore. He may have been young, but he knew what was going to happen. They were going to separate him and Thomas. The likelihood of someone wanting to take care of two teenage boys was slim. And when Thomas turned eighteen, he’d be free to leave. But Logan would be stuck. They wouldn’t see Thomas as a suitable guardian. He had no job -- no source of income. He was still in high school.

Going over all the facts made Logan feel... something. He felt his chest tighten and his legs go weak. There was a pressure pushing down on him, making everything seem too small. He needed to get out -- he needed to stop hearing this.

He ran back to his room and shut the door. He dove under the covers of his bed like a scared little kid. Maybe that’s what he was. All he was was a scared little kid who cried at things he couldn’t stand up to. Who froze up and ran away when he heard things he didn’t like.

He tried to wrap the blanket tighter around himself to drown out his thoughts. They were too loud. He couldn’t breathe. It was like his lungs forgot how to expand and contract on their own. They were doing too much of one and not the other, and he couldn’t focus enough to fix it. He knew he had to fix it, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. It was too much -- everything was too much. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand it. It was too much. He couldn’t do it.

“Logan?”

That was Thomas. Focus on Thomas. Answer Thomas.

He couldn’t answer Thomas.

The edge of the bed dipped. “Logan -- hey -- I need you to listen to me, alright?” His voice was gentle. “Breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, and breathe out for eight.”

Logan tried to follow the steps -- he tried so hard. He couldn’t do it. He was choking. “I -- I --” A sob escaped his lips instead of coherent words.

“Alright. We’re gonna try something else, okay? Focus on me, Logan. I know you can do this. You know your room, right? What are five things you can touch?”

Logan knew one. “B-blanket.” Associate. “Bed.” Keep going. “P-pillow.” He kept track with his fingers. Using his brain was too hard. “Sheets.” He stretched out his arm to where he assumed Thomas was. “You.”

Thomas held Logan’s searching hand. “That’s good. You’re doing great. What are four things you can see?”

He peeked his head over his blanket cocoon. “Wall.” Expand. “P-poster.” Elaborate. “Th-the Doctor Who one. And the Winnie th-the Pooh one.” One more, “You.”

Thomas smiled. It erased the concern on his face for a brief second. “Three things you can hear.”

“My breathing.” It wasn’t as heavy anymore, though still a bit ragged. “My alarm clock -- but only in the morning.” It was easier to think -- to talk. “And your voice.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“The cookies in the oven.” Things were better. “The flour you dropped on your shirt.”

Thomas glanced down at the rather large white patch clinging to the front of his shirt. “That’s kind of embarrassing... Anyway, one thing you can taste.”

“Nothing that would be sanitary.”

Thomas chuckled. “That’s a safe answer.” He squeezed Logan’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Not like I’m dying.” He sat up. His limbs were wobbly. “How did you know how to do that?”

He shrugged. “You learn a thing or two when you get older.”

Fair enough, Logan supposed. He crawled closer to Thomas and put his head on his arm. It felt better to be near him. “What’s going to happen now?”

Thomas sighed. “We’re going to have to leave.”

“Right now?”

He didn’t say anything, but that was an answer in itself.

“Oh.”

He squeezed Logan’s hand again. “I’ll help you pack.”

They were allowed to bring whatever they could carry. Their social worker didn’t help. He made it seem like they needed to leave as fast as possible. Logan didn’t want to leave at all. But they left. It wasn’t until the house was fading from view that he realized Cara’s guitar was still in his closet.

~~~

Their emergency foster family was nice enough, but Logan was more glad about getting to stay with Thomas longer. It was an older man and woman. There were pictures of them with two kids. A boy and a girl. Logan assumed it was their children. He noticed a newer picture of the girl in a college graduation gown. There was another one with the boy in a suit and a woman next to him wearing white. He didn’t know why they’d want to be foster parents when they had their own kids -- emergency foster parents no less. A position where you get traumatized kids dropped off at your doorstep under short notice.

But they were nice. They let Logan and Thomas be alone in their room. And that was another thing Logan was glad for. Sharing a room. He didn’t think he’d be able to be apart from Thomas.

They sat on a bed together, not saying much at first. It was a rough month.

Logan had The Phantom Tollbooth clutched tightly to his chest. He was afraid to put it down. He didn’t want to forget it like another important item of his. “I left my guitar behind,” he muttered after the long stretch of silence.

Thomas paused. “I’m sure we’ll get it back.”

Logan didn’t know how to respond.

“Do you wanna see something?” Thomas asked with a small smile.

“Sure.”

Thomas hopped off the bed. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a large photo album.

Logan couldn’t stop the grin growing on his face. “You brought the photo album?”

He shrugged. “I just felt like I needed to grab something.” He sat back on the bed. The album was meant to mimic a thick book. It was dark blue and squishy with the edges being worn down from use. It was mostly baby pictures of both boys, which made it their mother’s favorite album. There were other pictures, but mainly baby pictures. “Wanna look through it?”

“Yeah, I like making fun of you.”

Thomas scoffed. “Whatever. Don’t act like you don’t have any embarrassing pictures in here.” He flipped it open to the first page.

The very first picture was of Thomas and their mother. She sat in a hospital bed with her newborn in her arms, smiling softly at the camera. She looked a lot younger here. Like the same age as Thomas and his friends. It made Logan realize that he didn’t actually know how old his mother was when she was first pregnant. He never noticed how much younger she looked compared to other mothers.

“She looks like a kid,” Logan couldn’t help but mutter.

Thomas frowned a bit, eyes glued on her face. “She was.” But he didn’t elaborate.

Regardless, the first few pages of the album were of Thomas. Their mother would pop up every once in a while with a large smile that made Logan’s heart ache, but it mainly focused on Thomas. There was his birthdays, his first day of school, him just being a little kid. And then there was another picture taken in a hospital. A story frozen in time.

Thomas sat on the hospital bed next to his mother, hanging close to her arm. They both smiled down at the little bundle she held. A newborn Logan. They gazed at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“I forgot how tiny you were,” Thomas commented with a hint of amusement.

“I’m still tiny,” Logan replied bitterly. He was one of the shortest kids in his grade. Cara was half a head taller than him.

“Well, when you were a baby you were a lot smaller than you should have been.”

“I was?”

“You were born a few weeks early.”

“I was?”

Thomas laughed a bit at the repeated phrase in the exact same cadence. “Yeah. But maybe you just got stuck with the short genes. You were a healthy size by the time you were one.”

Oh, lame. He was going to be short forever.

“I guess we won’t know for sure until you’re all grown up.”

That was less lame.

Thomas turned the page. His hand froze on it. There was a picture of their dad. It was one of the only ones Logan had ever seen of him; he smiled at the camera with Thomas in his lap. It was a small, polite smile. It wasn’t a large grin like their mother’s. Or a radiant beam like Thomas’s. It was subdued. It didn’t bring as much joy with it. Logan wondered if that’s what he always smiled like, or if that was something he did for pictures.

“Do you think he’ll take us in?” Logan brought himself to ask.

“I don’t know.” He turned the page.

On the fourth day, they finally had a permanent solution. They had a new social worker come in — a woman named Miss Janelle Wilton — to tell them that their father gave up legal custody. He didn’t want anything to do with them. The only thing to do now was put them into foster care.

And once again Logan found himself not understanding. He never had a dad before. He wasn’t familiar with the concept. But weren’t dads… supposed to want their children? Why didn’t their father want them? He noticed Thomas get angry at the news. Thomas was rarely ever angry. But the moment he heard that their dad gave up on them, he could barely restrain his fury.

They were going to be placed with foster families tomorrow. 

Families. 

More than one.

“I’m sorry,” Miss Wilton said. She seemed genuine about it. “We were unable to find a household willing to take both of you.”

Even though Logan knew that would happen, it still hurt to hear. This would be his last night with Thomas. Maybe ever. And he didn’t know what to do.

“I can’t believe him,” Thomas exploded as soon as they were alone in their room. It startled Logan. “He didn’t even want to try.”

Logan didn’t know what to say. He had never seen Thomas so angry before. He didn’t want him to be angry, but he didn’t know what to say to make it better. Unlike him, Thomas knew what it was like to have a dad. He knew how dads were supposed to be. Apparently, dads were supposed to try.

Thomas began to pace the length of the room, clearly doing it in an attempt to cool off.

Logan crawled onto his temporary bed and watched him. He still didn’t know what to do. He ran his thumb along the spine of the book in his arms. “Did you think that he would?” He got himself to speak at last.

“I don’t know — maybe. I hoped…” He sighed. “I wanted to believe there was at least something good in him.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He paused, eyeing Logan briefly as some of his anger escaped. “I —” He sighed again — “I never told Mom about it, but I ran into Dad last year.” He ignored the wide-eyed look Logan gave him. “Honestly, he seemed more surprised to see me than I was to see him. I had no idea why. It wasn’t as if I expected him to be there, either.” He crossed his arms, his anger reigniting. “I was out with Valerie and Terrence — not exactly a witch hunt — yet he acted as if there was a reason I was there. Evidently, he didn’t want the kid he left ruining his date.”

Logan caught onto the bitterness in his words but decided not to comment.

“I tried to be nice to him. I tried to see the best in him. He's my dad so he had to at least be nice. But then he told me why he left. And it was stupid and selfish, and it was all because —" He cut himself off, catching sight of Logan. And his face softened a bit.

He tightened his hold on his book. "Because what?"

His face softened further, and he sighed yet again, his anger going out with it. "It doesn't matter." He sat beside Logan. "It was a dumb reason, anyway."

"Well, I don't think there's a smart reason to run away from your kids and wife."

Thomas snorted. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Later that night, neither of them could sleep. Dread hung in the air between them. The knowledge that they would be separated tomorrow stung with a bitter, almost palpable taste. Rather than stew in it alone, Logan decided to slip out of his bed and into Thomas's. Thomas turned his head to look at him.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’re just a baby boy,” his voice tapered off into the ‘I’m-talking-to-someone-way-younger-than-me’ tone — which Logan always loathed. And Thomas knew this. He only ever did it to be annoying. To add to this, he kept cooing about his baby brother. Referring to Logan directly as his baby or little brother was another thing he did to be annoying. He wrapped his arms around Logan and squeezed him tight, continuing his baby talk.

“Noo,” Logan whined. He tried to wriggle out but found he had no room. It didn’t help that he still had his book between his arms. On instinct, he almost called out for his mom for assistance, but instead he said,  “Stop it. I’ll bite you.”

Thomas sighed as if it was the most ridiculous quest to befall him. “Fine.” But he didn’t let go. Logan decided not to comment on this. “You know,” he started softly after a moment, “whatever happens tomorrow, I’ll make sure to find my way back to you.”

Rather than risk bursting into tears coming up with a response, Logan buried his face into the crook of Thomas’s neck. He didn’t want to leave. Thomas was all he had left. After that, what else could anyone take from him? The few possessions he was able to grab before he left the house? What did those things mean in the end? He didn’t want things he wanted people. He could lose everything he ever owned, but as long as he had Cara, or his mom, or Thomas, then it didn’t matter. But that wasn’t his circumstance.

“Are you holding something?”

They both moved away enough for Logan to show his book. “I don’t wanna put it down,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Did you want to read it?”

“Um…”

“Or do you want me to read it?”

He nodded and handed the book over.

Thomas turned on the lamp beside the bed. He positioned himself so that Logan was still close, but he was able to hold the book with both hands. “‘There was once a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself — not just sometimes, but always.’”

~~~

Before Logan left, he grabbed a photo from the photo album. He did it when Thomas wasn’t looking. Like it was some secret. But he didn’t want to be told he couldn’t take one or be judged on what he decided to take. He took the first picture he saw. Thomas’s fourth birthday. They were sitting at the dining table. Thomas was on his mother’s lap with his usual wide smile. She had her chin resting on the top of his head with sparkling eyes. The cake was decorated with blue frosting and topped with a number four candle.

He put it in his book.

He didn’t talk the whole way to his foster family. He didn’t even talk when he got there. There was no amount of coercing or gentle words that would get him to open his mouth. He just held his book close to his chest and kept his eyes cast on the ground. They left him alone soon enough. Not that it mattered.

His room was small. Light peach walls empty of any personality. Logan supposed he was meant to fix that, but he wasn’t going to. He didn’t want to get comfortable here. He didn’t want to stay. He wanted to be home. He wanted Thomas. He wanted his mom.

But there was nothing to be done about that.

When April 24th came around, Logan felt absolutely miserable. He was alone. He wanted his mom. He wanted to see his brother. It was Thomas's eighteenth birthday. His mom said eighteenth birthdays were special. It was meant to be special, but now they weren’t even together. He wondered if Thomas was doing okay. Was he at least having a good birthday?

Logan rolled on his side and stared at the empty wall. "Happy birthday," he whispered. The first words he said since being separated. And no one was there to hear them.

On the other side of town, Thomas laid in bed, absolutely miserable. His foster parents asked if he wanted to celebrate his birthday, which was nice, but he declined the offer. He didn't want anything to do with his birthday. This would be the first birthday without his mom's homemade cake. The first birthday without Logan jumping on his bed to wake him up in the morning because "it's your birthday, you gotta be up early!".

He missed them.

He regretted taking those little things for granted. He'd do anything to hear Logan run down the hall and burst through his door, interrupting his sleep. He wanted more than anything to see his mom act like her cake was still a surprise even though he always got the same one for seventeen straight years. But he didn't have that. He was alone.

~~~

Two years.

Logan stayed in the foster care system for two years. During that period, he had been forced to move houses a few times. Not as much as other kids, he was sure, but more than twice was still a lot. Many families were nice. Others not so much. The people that weren’t as nice were the ones that got rid of him the fastest. They told Miss Wilton he was a problem child. He was difficult to deal with.

Well, Logan didn’t know what they expected. He had his family ripped away from him. It wasn’t as if he was going to get over that with their faux generosity. Besides, all he did was not talk. Apparently, adults didn’t like that.

Miss Wilton soon came to realize that Logan wasn’t the problem. Anytime someone complained after her discovery, she would give the foster family a fake sweet smile and apologize on Logan’s behalf, then be on her way with Logan in tow. Logan noticed that she gave a lot of adults fake smiles. Her real smiles she gave to Logan and other kids.

She could also be snarky, so Logan ended up liking her.

The last family she found for him he stayed with the longest. They were more understanding than the others, which was a relief. But those last few months were filled with something a bit more important.

Thomas was trying to get legal guardianship.

It was tough and long, and Logan had never been so impatient in his life. Miss Wilton took him to the final court decision. And he almost cried right then and there. He saw Valerie and Terrence. Familiar faces that he hadn't seen in two years. Faces that followed him through his childhood. He didn't realize how much he missed them.

And then he saw Thomas. They stared at each other with wide, unbelieving eyes. Thomas smiled. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. Logan was reminded of home.

After that, the day was a blur. He remembered it being stressful. Of course it was. Strangers were deciding his future. Adults he didn’t know were choosing if he got to stay with Thomas or not. Putting it that way made it seem so silly. Thomas was his brother. Why shouldn’t they be able to live together? They’ve been together his whole life. It wouldn’t have been fair to come to any other decision.

Thankfully, whatever deity had forced them into this situation decided to side with them that day.

Miss Wilton showed genuine excitement and relief at the brothers being together again. She was happy that their permanent home would be with each other. Because she was happy, Logan knew he should have been happy too, but he just… couldn’t believe it. Not yet. Since the moment Cara left, his entire life had been going downhill. There was no way it would pick up now. He was half convinced the universe would pull a mean trick and he’d be ripped away from Thomas again.

But nothing like that happened. Miss Wilton helped Logan pack his things and took him to Thomas’s place. It was surreal to hear that Thomas had his own apartment. When last they left each other, Thomas hadn’t even begun to consider moving out.

When they got there, Miss Wilton explained some things that Logan tuned out. He caught a snippet about someone coming to check on them sometime soon, and maybe she said something about Logan, but he didn’t pay attention. He was too busy gazing around the room. There were a few things he recognized from the house — the couch, the dining table, the TV, the pictures — and he wondered what else had made it. Logically, he knew not everything could fit in here, but part of him still hoped. He liked being surrounded by familiarity.

Not long after, Miss Wilton said her final goodbye. Logan was sort of sad about it. She had been a constant presence in his life for two whole years. But he assumed her saying goodbye was a good thing. It meant that he had a permanent home to stay in.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Miss Wilton said before she left for good. “But I hope we never see each other again.”

Logan agreed.

She gave him one last, genuine smile. Then she left.

“She seemed nice,” Thomas said after a moment.

It then occurred to Logan that Thomas didn’t spend as much time with her as he did. To respond, Logan simply nodded.

There was a slight twitch of a frown at the nonverbal response, but he masked it with a smile. “Well, come on. Let me show you to your room.”

Logan trailed after him without a word.

Thomas talked for both of them on the short way there. He mentioned how he tried to get as much stuff from the house as possible, but he couldn’t get everything. That didn’t mean he didn’t try, though. “Valerie and Terrence helped out a lot. Oh — and Joan. They’re a co-worker of mine and they live a few apartments down. I’m sure they’d love to meet you — well — after you get settled.” He opened one of the doors.

One of the first things Logan saw almost made him drop his book. Cara’s guitar. It was resting on his bed, waiting for him. Before he rushed over to it, he decided to look around. It was almost like he never had to leave. His posters were on the walls, his little bookcase was there — even his bed sheets were the same. He dropped his book on his nightstand, finally feeling safe enough to let it go, and he opened the guitar case. It looked the same as when he left it.

That’s when reality started to sink in.

This was real. Logan was here with Thomas. He was allowed to stay here. There wouldn’t be any more strangers he had to live with. There wouldn’t be anymore wishing — begging — every night for Thomas to come back like he promised, hoping he hadn’t been forgotten or left behind. This was real. And he was here. Thomas didn’t break his promise at all. He found his way back.

Without realizing it, Logan started crying. He was home. He ran to Thomas and hugged him. They almost crashed to the ground from the sheer force, but Thomas was able to keep them upright. “I missed you,” he said at last. “I missed you so much.”

Thomas hugged him back, holding him close. “I missed you, too.”

~~~

Despite being together, things were still difficult. Money-wise at least. Thomas wondered how the hell his mom ran a house with three people when he had a hard enough time in an apartment with two. She must have been magic. Or maybe Thomas just sucked.

He tried his best, really, but that didn’t make things easier. Sometimes things were difficult to overcome despite a positive attitude. Everything costed money. And that was the worst. He had to pay for food, clothes, gas, rent — and that was just the basics. That didn’t count the school supplies Logan needed, or the phone bills, or the cable bills, or all the other bills that seemed to exist.

There wasn’t ever much spare money lying around. Almost everything Thomas earned went to pay for something. He didn’t have much to save, and that didn’t seem like it would change anytime soon.

He tried not to let Logan know how stressful this all was. The poor kid had been through so much already, he didn’t need to worry about his older brother. He didn’t like to think of it as lying, but he sort of… stretched… the truth. A little bit. Enough to be believable. Logan was a smart kid. He’d figure it out if things started to not add up.

So Thomas never let it get to that point. Did he have to get two jobs? Yes. Was he unable to work anywhere better because he only had a high school diploma? Yes. Did he know that having a higher education would get him a better job? Yes. Was he going to punch the next person in the throat who said that to him? Probably. He wanted to scream that he couldn’t afford to get a dang higher education because he had to raise his brother and put a roof over his head. There wasn’t enough freaking time in the day to earn money and go to school.

But he didn’t do that. He held his tongue and thanked that person for such wonderful advice that a million other people have said before.

People sucked sometimes.

Regardless, Thomas did the same things he always did. He took Logan to school, he went to work, he cooked dinner, he went to work again, then he slept. Interlaced, of course, was paying for things that needed to be paid whenever it was needed. One day, he noticed something. It was a small thing; he would have missed it if he wasn't paying attention.

"Logan, are you having trouble seeing?" They were stopped at a light on their way to Logan's school. It was way early, and he was super tired, but this seemed kind of important.

"Uh…" Logan stopped squinting out the window. "No."

That wasn't believable, but he dropped the subject for the time being. It wasn’t until later that night that he decided to push it.

“Hey, bear,” Thomas called from the kitchen. He grabbed two identical boxes of noodles out of the cupboard. From far enough away, they were hard to tell apart. Thomas sometimes mixed them up at a glance. “What kind of pasta do you want?” He stood at the doorway and presented the boxes.

Logan, who had been sitting cross-legged on the couch doing homework, looked up and immediately grimaced. “Um… the one on the right.”

“Which one is that?”

“Uh —” Thomas could tell he was trying not to squint — “the good one.”

Thomas lowered the boxes with a frown. “You can’t see it, can you?”

“I can see it. Just… it’s a little blurry.”

“How much is a little?”

Logan hesitated, tapping his pencil on his notebook. “I can make out the shapes but I can’t read it.”

Thomas frowned further. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t wanna bother you.” He focused on the papers before him. “You’re always so busy, and I know money gets tight sometimes, so I figured if I didn’t tell you it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about that.” Thomas sat beside him. “I’m the adult here and it’s my responsibility. We have insurance for a reason, you big goof.” He threw his arm around him and pulled him in for a side hug. “Next time something’s wrong or you have a problem, tell me, okay?”

Logan gave him a small smile. “Okay.”

~~~

A new student entered Logan’s grade near the end of the school year. Logan only found out because they shared the same English class. He thought it was unlucky to join a new school so late in the year, but that wasn’t any of his business. Not like the new kid would care about his opinion anyway.

Unfortunately, the teacher decided to sit the new student beside him — even though there were two other seats available. Logan cursed his bad luck and kept his head down. He didn’t want to interact with anyone. Ever. He hadn’t made another friend since Cara left.

Unfortunately again, this kid didn’t care.

“Hey,” he said with a charming smile. “I’m Percival.”

~~~

So clearly Logan was gay.

Who knew.

He found and read different books on different sexualities to try to understand his confusion. He felt most comfortable identifying as gay, but the tiny section on asexuality in one of the books was always in the back of his mind. Okay, so, it was still sort of confusing, but saying he was gay felt like a good fit. At least for now.

When he mentioned it to Thomas off-hand, he said — and Logan swears he’ll never let him live this down — “Oh, shit, me too.”

It caught him so off guard that he laughed until he cried. Never, in his entire life, had he ever heard Thomas curse. And the first time he did was because they talked about being gay. Somehow that seemed very fitting.

But the tiny, little factoid that Logan left out — just a small detail — was that he and Percival were dating. Telling Thomas he was gay? Yeah, sure, easy. Telling Thomas he had a boyfriend? No. Nope. That would be a disaster. He’d probably freak out about it. In more than one way.

So that was his little secret for the time being. Until he was ready.

Well, it turned out the joke was on him because he accidentally let it slip about four months into their relationship. Like a dang fool.

He didn’t mean to. At all. But once it was out he couldn’t take it back. As predicted, Thomas freaked out. He demanded to know the details at the same time he tried to give advice. It was embarrassing and unnecessary and Logan would have preferred to sink into the earth than experience any second of this onslaught. Worst of all, Thomas wanted to meet him.

It wasn’t that he thought Percival wasn’t someone to meet his family — he was very sweet — it was just the thought of Thomas being an embarrassing older brother. Which he was. If he let them anywhere near each other he’d probably end up dying of embarrassment.

So he tried to push it off at first. It wasn’t necessary right now. Wait a little longer. But it turned out that Percival was on Thomas’s side. Logan felt betrayed.

They (well, with great reluctance on Logan’s part) settled on meeting up for lunch on the weekend. Logan insisted that Thomas bring Joan so that he could have someone to talk to in the inevitable event that Thomas started being embarrassing. He knew it would happen no matter how many times Thomas said it wouldn’t.

“Well that was fun,” Percival mentioned after the whole ordeal was over. They were by themselves now, walking through a park to Percival’s house.

Logan rolled his eyes. Predictively, Thomas had an embarrassing older brother moment. Thank God Joan was there to reel him back a bit. “That’s easy for you to say, you don’t live with him.”

Percival laughed. “Still. We should do it again sometime.”

Logan refrained from rolling his eyes again. “I’ll have to think about that.”

Then Percival stopped. He looked down at Logan with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Logan opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t get the chance. Percival ducked down and captured his lips.

He wanted to suck in a sharp breath of air — an automatic response of surprise — but he didn’t. At least, he didn’t think so. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was sudden. A pressure on his mouth he wasn’t familiar with. The new, strange feeling of someone else’s lips. It was like fire, and teasing, and strawberry lemonade. And then it was over.

Percival pulled back, but their lips still brushed together when he whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

His chest fluttered.

~~~

Logan was sixteen when he realized something was… off. He didn’t notice where the feeling was coming from at first. Things between Thomas and him were fine. They weren’t currently struggling for money. All of Thomas’s friends were doing okay. What was left? Why did he have a bad feeling looming over his shoulder?

He wished he could have said that he pieced it together quickly. He wished he could have said he narrowed it down after going through every single option. But he didn't. He… he just didn't.

He didn't even know. It happened so subtly — like a pot heating bit by bit unbeknownst to the poor frog. Except Logan was the frog in this scenario.

He couldn't tell you what the first hint that the water was boiling was. It wasn't as easy as saying, "it started when he did this" because it all seemed okay. Everything was okay. He thought it was at least.

And then, all at once, it was very not okay.

Approaching their first year of being together, Percival wasn't as sweet anymore. Well, he was. But not all the time. Sometimes he said things that were a little too mean. Sometimes he brought up things he knew Logan was insecure about. Sometimes he didn't even seem like the same person.

But it was fine. He always apologized or made it up in some way. And Logan always forgave him. Again. And again. And again.

He felt like an idiot to not notice the pattern.

From there it only escalated. Suddenly, it felt like everything Logan did was criticized. Nothing he did was good enough or worth the effort to look at.

"Anyone can play guitar. It's easy."

Logan was inclined to agree, but coming from someone who didn't know how to play any instrument — let alone a guitar — felt belittling. It completely ignored his years of practice. Still, Logan shoved the guitar in his closet.

"Why does it matter that you won that scholarship?"

He wanted to say that Thomas was proud of him. But he didn't. Thomas was proud of anything that Logan did, though. It must not have been that impressive.

"I hate when you wear that shirt."

He kept it at the bottom of his drawer.

"Remember when you failed that math test?"

He studied every free minute he had.

"Your laugh is annoying."

He tried not to laugh again.

The first time Percival hit him was a surprise. It sort of seemed like an accident, but Logan was never sure. He wasn't sure about a lot. But even Percival seemed a little shocked after he did it. Logan wondered, if he had spoken up then, would it have ended there? Did his silence on the matter convince Percival he could get away with it? He didn't know.

It was almost two years into their relationship. He must have done something wrong.

Logan shuffled into the apartment. The place where Percival hit him the previous day started to appear a lot more visible as throughout school. To add to his bad luck, Thomas wasn't in his room. He tried to slip by but was caught before he made it to the hallway.

“Hey, Logan,” Thomas chirped. “Come here it feels like I haven't seen you all day.”

Logan hesitated. He could say he wasn't feeling well, or straight out refuse to turn around, but that wouldn't work out in the end. He couldn't hide this forever. Taking a deep, silent breath, Logan turned around.

The smile fell right off Thomas's face. “Oh, my God.” He rushed over to Logan. “Oh God, bear, what happened to you?” His hands hovered around Logan's face as if he wasn't quite sure what to do. It made Logan a little nervous.

His hands soon found their place cradling Logan's head. “What happened to your face, Logan?”

The anguished expression of his brother almost made Logan want to tell the truth. Almost. “I, uh, I fell.” That couldn't have been believable. 

“Please tell me the truth, bear.” Thomas furrowed his brows in worry. “Unless you fell down some stairs, I don't think your face should look like this.”

Logan pulled himself away. “I-it's nothing. I just fell.”

“Logan —”

“I'm fine, Thomas.” He retreated to his room. 

But that statement became less and less true with time. As the injury on his face changed colors to a more noticeable bruise, Logan found himself with others. The new ones were places less obvious and often hidden with articles of clothing.

All the while Logan tried to convince himself everything would be fine. Percival was a knight of the round table — a hero from Arthurian legend. But if that were true… then why did it feel so wrong to be near him? People don't flinch when the hero gets mad. People don't cower when a knight goes to see them. All the fear made Logan miss the talking. It had become subtle insults toward Logan recently, but that was better than fearing another injury.

Logan held on for a few more days. Each day he came home more tired than the last, with Thomas increasing his worry, until one day he couldn't take it.

He hauled himself through the front door. He dropped his backpack on the ground and went straight for Thomas.

Thomas was looking down at some papers but glanced up when he heard the noise. He gasped and dropped everything to be by Logan. “Are you okay?”

Logan wiped his tears and shook his head. “I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, bear?” Thomas tried to reach a hand out to Logan but stopped when he flinched. “What happened?”

“Percy, he — he —” Logan wrapped his arms around himself. Sobs were choking him. “I-I didn't want to do it, Thomas. I didn't w-want to. H-he tried to make me. I was scared. I-I ran away — I ran away from him.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I'm sorry. P-please don't be m-mad. I'm sorry.”

Thomas didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to do. God, he was suddenly aware of how young they both were. He didn’t have infinite wisdom or a sense of direction like a parent should. He was barely going to be twenty-one next month. Something terrible must have been going on and Thomas wasn’t equipped to handle it.

“L-Logan, hey.” Thomas kept his hands to himself. “Let’s try to calm down, alright? I’m not mad at you, kiddo, I have nothing to be mad at you for.”

“B-but I —”

“Shh, it’s okay. We can sit down and talk, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

They sat down on the couch together. Logan hugged himself like he would fall apart if he stopped and Thomas tried to get him to breathe properly. It took a bit, but they got there. At least enough to not be so alarming. Then Logan told him everything. He showed him every bruise, mentioned every bitter conversation, and even what transpired today.

“We were just talking,” Logan explained. He was no longer crying, but the effects of it still altered his voice. “Everything was fine. It felt like things had gone back to normal — he was sweet and told me nice things, but apparently, there was an ulterior motive.” He tightened his hands into fists. “He wanted… he wanted to…” He sucked in a breath. “He wanted to do something I didn’t. I tried stopping him, but he wouldn’t listen. I, I didn’t know what else to do so I ran.”

Thomas didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? How do you even respond to that? This was his little brother. It wasn’t happening to anyone else, it wasn’t a story he heard about someone, it was happening right here — and it was his brother. He couldn’t imagine Logan going through this that whole time. He didn’t even want to think about what caused him to run all the way home. It was all so… awful. And he felt awful about not saying anything, or noticing sooner, or —

“It’s okay.” This wasn’t about him. It was about Logan. “Sometimes the best thing to do is get out of there as fast as you can. You made a smart decision.”

“It doesn’t feel like one.” Logan curled into himself.

Thomas pushed down the sick feeling in his stomach. “It is. He wasn’t listening to you so you did the only other thing you could think of. You got somewhere safe. It’s okay to run away sometimes, Logan — especially if you’re in danger.”

Logan remained silent.

Oh, Thomas wanted to hug him so bad, but he refrained from doing so.

The next day, Percival knocked on the door and asked to see Logan. Thomas tightened his grip on the doorknob to stop from doing something he’d regret. “He’s not here,” he responded in his usual cheerful tone despite the fact his blood was boiling. “He went down to the library to grab something. Would you like to leave a message?”

Percival smiled politely. “No thanks. I think I’ll just meet him down there.”

“Sure thing.” Thomas resisted the urge to slam the door in his face.

Logan was frozen in the kitchen. The only thing separating him from the front door was a wall. He didn’t dare to even breathe until he saw Thomas in the doorway. Before either of them could think to say anything, Logan’s phone started to ring. He felt his blood run cold.

“Don’t answer it,” Thomas said softly.

He didn’t.

That wasn’t an isolated incident, as it turned out. Percival came back the next day to ask where Logan had been — claimed he was worried because his calls were going unanswered. Thomas handled it with surprising grace, having a believable lie at the ready, but it wasn’t enough. Percival kept calling and when that inevitable day came where Logan had to go back to school, he couldn’t avoid him. And Thomas wasn’t there to help.

Nothing happened besides subtle anger and vague threats. Logan knew that the only thing saving him was being in public. He knew that once school was out, that there would be little time to get away. Percival wasn’t patient. So he sent Thomas a text to pick him up right as school ended. It wasn’t as if he would say no — he was wary to let Logan go to school at all — but Logan was still scared. Thomas was already doing so much for him. He didn’t want to push the limit.

Thomas: I could get you right now

As much as that appealed to Logan, he couldn’t. He was already making Thomas miss work to pick him up after school. Having him pick him up now would just be worse. He declined the offer, insisting he was fine. For now.

Once the final bell rang, Logan was the first one out of the classroom door. He wasn’t normally one to be so eager to leave, but right now he wanted to get home as soon as possible.

A hand grabbed his shoulder once he spotted Thomas’s car. "Leaving so soon?"

Every muscle in Logan's body froze. He let Percival spin him around to see his displeased face.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he continued. "The least you can do is come over so we can catch up on lost time. I was wondering what happened to you."

"I was busy," Logan mumbled. He tried to stand his ground, but Percival was more determined than him.

"Well, you're not now. So come with me. We have a lot to talk about."

Logan couldn't respond. He couldn't move away.

"Hey, Logan!"

Oh, thank Christ.

They turned to see Thomas running up to them. "We gotta help Joan set up their place for Talyn, remember?"

Logan had no idea how Thomas could lie on the spot like that despite hating lying so much.

"But Logan was just saying how he was going to stop by real quick." His fingers dug into Logan's shoulder. "Right?"

"Sorry, but this has to be done by — like — yesterday." He offered his hand out to Logan, who took it gratefully. "Maybe some other time."

Percival relented his hold. "Sure. Some other time."

Thomas flashed him a smile and dragged Logan back to his car.

Before they even got to the apartment, Thomas was already devising a plan to keep Percival far away. First thing first, Logan needed to be transferred to another school. There was no way he was spending another second of forced interaction with his abuser. Second, there needed to be a phone number change.

Logan listened to his near-ranting as they walked up to their apartment. He didn't have any input. What was there to say? This was a sucky situation from all angles.

"You'll have to stay with Valerie until this whole thing blows over."

That caught Logan's attention. Panic hijacked his senses, and words were leaving his mouth before he could stop them. "No! Please don't leave me somewhere. I don't want to be away from you."

"Logan —"

"Please. I, I can't be alone again. I'll do anything. Whatever you want — I'll do it."

"Oh, no, Logan —"

"Don't leave. Please. Please don't leave. How will I know when you'll be back? What if I have to get moved around again? What if you're gone for good this time and I don't see you again?"

"Logan, stop." Thomas cupped his face with his hands. Firm, but gentle. Just to get him to stop his erratic movements and focus on something. "I'm not going to abandon you, okay? I'm…" He studied Logan's face. "Alright. We'll both go to Valerie's. I'll have Joan keep an eye on the place." He wiped Logan's cheeks of the tears he didn't even notice he shed. "I'm not leaving you, bear."

For the first time in several days, Logan hugged Thomas.

~~~

“Well, since you just fell for me you should probably know my name, at least. I’m Patton.”

~~~

Logan was nineteen when he met Patton. He was nineteen when they started dating. And he had never felt… more like a kid. Patton was silly, and kind, and loved dumb puns. Whether he knew it or not, he was helping Logan unlearn everything Percival taught him. It wouldn’t be perfect. There would still be emotional scars that would never heal, but he would be able to function again. He wouldn’t start every day in fear of what would happen. Patton made things okay.

They had been dating for exactly a year when they kissed for the first time.

It was in the evening. Logan was planning on spending the night so they were in Patton’s room (Logan had to answer at least twenty different texts from Thomas to assure him that he was fine and he’d call if anything happened). It felt like sleeping over at Cara’s again; there wasn’t much of a plan to go to sleep, just to have fun. At around midnight, Patton sprung up from his spot on the floor and excitedly claimed to have an idea.

Logan didn’t even get the chance to process what happened before Patton was searching through his closet. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” He pulled a box out and grabbed an even smaller box from within it. “My parents sent this to me before they found out I took in Emile and D. And, well, you know what happened after that.” He took out a globe-like projector and plugged it in before shutting off the lights.

“Patton —” the rest of his words died on his lips when Patton turned it on. Dozens of specks showed up on the ceiling. Like someone took a paintbrush and flung white paint across the room. Then he noticed that some of those specks weren’t random. They were constellations. These were stars.

“That’s a lot better than I thought it would look,” Patton laughed. He sent a grin over to Logan. “What do you think?”

Logan tore his eyes away from the ceiling. He tried to bite back a smile, but he couldn’t help it. “I think it’s wonderful.”

Patton gave him that look again. Like he mattered more than anything in the world. He did it a lot, but Logan still didn’t understand why. He continued to study Logan’s face before asking softly, “Can I kiss you?”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his chest, yet he still nodded. He practically melted when it happened.

It was gentle. A soft presence against his mouth that was different than anything before. The unique, strange feeling of someone else’s lips. It was like fresh chocolate chip cookies, and the Jabberwocky poem, and guessing the names of random dogs on the street. And then it was over.

It took Logan a second to open his eyes again.

Patton was a breath away, his eyes sparkling under the synthetic stars. “Was that too much?” He backed up a fraction more.

Logan pulled him in for another kiss.

~~~

Patton wasn’t supposed to know that Logan could play the guitar. Truth be told, he hadn’t touched it in a while. But he opened his closet to put something away, and there was the case. He didn’t think much about it; it had been in there so long already that he ignored it.

But Patton didn’t.

He spotted it and gasped so loud that Logan felt his heart shoot to his throat.

“I didn’t know you could play guitar!”

Oh crap. Logan glared at the case like it made its presence known on purpose. “Sort of.”

“Can you play something for me? Please?” He brought out his puppy eyes and kind smile. “Just one song.”

“I-I don’t know. I’m really not that good.”

“Normally, I take your word for things, but not for this. I have to hear for myself.”

Logan held back a grimace. Patton was determined. He may drop it now, but he’d bring it up another time, and another until eventually, Logan caved. “Fine.” He grabbed the case, ignoring the pang it sent to his chest at the thin layer of dust. “What do you want to hear?”

Patton resembled a puppy trying to hold in his excitement. “Something simple.”

Sure. Simple. He could do that. He sat beside Patton after taking the guitar out. It looked the same way he remembered. A bit older, and out of tune, but still the same. He almost forgot why he stopped playing it. As he placed his hands over the strings he remembered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. As his panic rose, he tried to formulate a way to back out, but then he noticed Patton giving him a patient smile.

He couldn’t tell Patton why. That could change everything.

It was just one song. He could do that. He pushed all his fear far, far down and started strumming.

Hey there, Delilah What's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away But, girl, tonight you look so pretty Yes, you do

He kept his head down the whole time. He couldn’t bring himself to look up as he noticed every single mistake he made. He half expected to be stopped when he got to the second verse, but that didn’t happen. Patton didn’t interrupt him or utter a single word. Not until he finished, at least.

“That was so good!” He clapped. “You’re amazing.”

Logan’s cheeks turned hot. “Not really. It’s just a guitar. Anyone can do that.”

“Even if that were true, not everyone can play and sing at the same time.”

Well. Maybe.

Later, after Patton left, Logan saw Thomas sitting on the kitchen counter. “So I heard you serenading Patton earlier,” he muttered with a smirk around his coffee mug.

“Shut up.”

~~~

If someone told Logan that he'd end up marrying Patton, he would have been convinced they were lying. There was no way Patton would stay with him that long. Patton was wonderful, and sweet, and caring, and good, and Logan was just… Logan. There was nothing spectacular about that.

But as it turned out, Patton thought he was the most wonderful thing to grace his presence.

They did get married.

Logan couldn't believe that it happened. He was in disbelief the whole day. It didn't sink in that Patton chose him of all people until that night when they gazed up at the artificial stars on the ceiling. This was real. Patton wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. He could have had anyone else but he chose Logan.

And Logan was so glad that he did.

It had been such a long time since he felt this happy.

~~~

The social worker helping them with the adoption process was Mrs. Rachel Hernandez. She was nice. She reminded Logan of Miss Wilton.

Even with the kind assistance of Mrs. Hernandez, Logan was still very nervous. And now for several reasons. The very first and obvious being he wasn't sure he'd be a good dad — actually, that was most of the reasons. Another reason, unrelated to that, was the whole process reminded him of being torn away from his brother. It was silly, he knew, but the connection was still there. Along with all the anxieties it brought.

A lot of these kids were like him; stuck in an unfortunate circumstance that they had no say in. Logan was considered a lucky one. He got to return to his family. These kids were up for adoption because they weren't as lucky. He knew how it felt to lose everything you were familiar with and be thrust into the hands of strangers.

Then one day, after months of waiting, they had a match.

"I understand you were only intending to adopt one child," she started, and Logan wondered for a moment if this was how his first foster family was talked to when the prospect of siblings came up. "But Roman has a twin brother. We'd prefer to keep them together, but if you're adamant about only one then —"

"No," Logan blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mrs. Hernandez and Patton stared at him in wide-eyed shock. He normally kept quiet during these talks unless he had to answer something. And he never rose his voice like that.

His cheeks flushed. "I mean… I would prefer to not separate any siblings."

Mrs. Hernandez turned to Patton for his opinion.

"Uh," he tore his eyes away from Logan. "Yeah. I agree with that sentiment."

After everything had been dealt with, they left the office. But when Patton sat in the driver's seat, he didn't start the car. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "So…" he started casually. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Logan pretended to be interested in the parking lot.

"You know what."

Ugh, it would have been so much better to ignore it. He sighed. "When I was put in foster care, they separated me from Thomas. So I know how it feels to not have your brother with you during one of the most stressful times in your life."

There was a pause. "You never told me that."

Logan shrugged. "I didn't want you to feel any worse for me than you already did."

Patton fumbled for a response, but in the end, he couldn't seem to find one at all.

The day they met Roman and Virgil, Logan was instantly reminded of being at Miss Wilton's side all those years ago. They were hesitant — scared — and didn't say a word. Logan knew better than anybody what they must be feeling.

Maybe that was the real reason they spoke to him first.

"Daddy!" Roman marched into the living room, a tiny scowl on his face. It was a day before their eleventh birthday "Virgil touched my stuff!"

"I did not!" Virgil shouted from the bedroom.

"Then why is it missing?"

"You didn't put it away."

Logan rolled his eyes. They had a habit of yelling across the house to each other. He blamed Patton. "Roman, if you're going to argue with your brother, at least do it in the same room."

Roman huffed and crossed his arms. "My color pencils are missing and I haven't touched them."

"Where did you leave them last?"

"In the room."

Logan stood up. "Let's go look for them, then." He followed Roman back to his bedroom. He still shared with Virgil. They didn't mind it yet, but Logan had a sneaking suspicion it would start soon. 

Not even two minutes in the room and Logan found the color pencils. "They're right here."

"Oh." Roman took them with a sheepish grin.

"I told you you didn't put it away." Virgil stuck his tongue out at him. "This is why I'm Daddy's favorite." To emphasize his point, he hugged Logan's side.

Roman gasped dramatically. "No you're not — I am." He dropped his color pencils and rushed to Logan's other side. "Tell him I'm your favorite."

"Well, he's not because I'm his favorite."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Daddy!" Roman tugged on Logan's shirt. "Which one of us is right?"

"Neither of you. I don't have a favorite." He smirked at their disbelieving pouts. "You're both my little beasties. It's hard to have a favorite when you're tearing up the place all the time."

They took offense to that, blaming each other for the messes they made (together) and insisting that they were the good twin and the favorite because they cleaned up. It was only interrupted by the front door opening.

Roman gasped. "Dad's home."

"I'm gonna ask him who his favorite is." Virgil took off.

"It's gonna be me!" Roman followed after him.

Logan smiled at the commotion they created.

~~~

He sat on the bed with his wedding ring clasped tightly in his hand. Angry, hot tears still rolled down his cheeks and he hated it. He wanted to stop crying. It had been hours — why was he still crying?

He unfurled his fingers. There were indents in his palm from how tight he held his ring. He wanted to throw it. Break it. Do something to it. But he knew he would never bring himself to do anything he thought of. It would only upset him later.

So he put it back on.

It didn't feel right there anymore, but he couldn't bear to lose it.

He let the tears fall even as they turned from angry to distressed. He was an idiot, wasn't he? He should have known this life was too good to be true.

He wasn't destined to have a happy ending.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #thomas sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logicality #sibling prinxiety #relationship abuse tw #toxic relationship tw #attempted rape/non-con mention #anxiety attack tw #berry done au

[confusedhost-archive]

Coffeeshop Au

She-Ra coffeeshop au because I said so:

Everyone works at one of two shops: Hoard or Princess Alliance

At the very beginning, it shows Adora, a normal human, and her friend Catra (everyone looks the same, has the same powers) in the breakroom chatting, and then they switch shifts with Kyle, Rogilio and whatever her name is- I can’t remember- 

Yay! You get to meet Shadow Weaver, who is being very rude to the girls because her coffee was too hot (and also because Catra made it and no one is allowed to make her coffee except Adora)

Adora ends up missing a day and gets fired, which is immediately met with distaste from Shadow Weaver

Adora gets a new job at The Princess Alliance

Quickly becomes friends with Glimmer and Bow, but Glimmer’s mom, the owner of the cute shop, is less happy with her, as she looks like a gangster

Catra has mixed feelings about Adora not being at work, as she is now able to get promoted to manager beside Scorpia, but also she doesn’t see Adora like, ever, anymore

Adora’s aunt, Mara, died recently, and LightHope, Mara’s wife, came over to give Adora a charm with the words She-Ra carved in the side. 

Adora promises to visit the farm and see LightHope soon

With the knowledge that she has a bit of her mother figure still with her, Adora throws herself into baking, creating her newest pastry: She-Ra

Was named after the charm!

It is the best thing anyone has ever tasted. They sell out quick, and become Adora’s special (All the princess’ have specials, they’re at the bottom of the post)

Aight, so Entrapta misses a couple days, didn’t call in sick, and was fired

Immediately picked up by Hoard and now has a new job! Stuck with Catra and Scorpia until Catra got promoted

Afterwards she met Hordak, and they started talking 

and then they started flirting in their cute roundabout way

Hordak had to leave for a few days because Imp needed to go to the hospital, he left Catra in charge (She’s manager anyway, but now she had free reign)

With Double Trouble’s help, Catra made a fake resigning form for Entrapta while firing her

While this is going on, everyone gets word about Prime Restaurant chain wanting to set up in the area. Hordak would like to sell his shop for them, but first he needs to get another place to set up (He only decides this after he comes back, and he needs something to do after learning that someone he thought he had a connection with just left)

Entrapta hasn’t really let it sink in that she’s unemployed. Goes to get a coffee from a starbucks nearby, name and coffee get mixed up with someone named Micah. (Think when she stole his bug)

Start talking, then bow and Adora just speed walk into the shop like, “Hey Entrapta, would you like to be hired for Princess Alliance again?”

(Bow is also kinda like “Hey wtf, is that you, Micah?” And Micah’s like, “Hey, Bow, is that you?”)

And Entrapta’s like, “Hired? Oh, uh sorry, I have to- oh.” and its suddenly sinking in that she doesn’t work at Hoard anymore and (excuse me if this isn’t what would actually happen but it happened not to long ago so I’m just giving it to Entrapta rn) she is kinda just moving around and kinda just trying to get away from anything touching her because it all just feels horrible against her skin and shiz

and she just kinda goes “Yes, I’d like to be hired, but please leave me alone right now, I’d like to not be touched,” and so Bow and Adora kind of hesitantly go away and Micah stays walking her through her (I don’t know what this is. Touch aversion? A mild panic attack? A depressive episode?)

Anyway, cut away, and now we see Adora and Bow sitting on the roof of the cafe. Talking, thinking about life, doing a bit of college homework. Adora is playing with her charm, and then she drops it and it shatters. Obviously, she’s freaking out, that’s the only thing she has of Mara and it means so freaking much to her

Bow is trying to help and is gathering up the shards, and finds a little piece of paper among it all. Adora reads it and completely breaks down crying. No one knows what it says but her (which is to say I don’t know what it says)

Takes a break for a couple days, going to LightHope, her aunt, and 

(In this time, Entrapta has reluctantly gone back to work, Micah has procrastinated around seeing his ex-wife and daughter, Angela has packed up for a plane trip, Hordak is having trouble finding another place to set up shop, and Prime restaurant chain is moving in)

Adora comes back with a new fire and an upgrade to her She-ra pastry, tastes even better now

Micah finally got the courage to go see his family, only to find out that Angela had just left for a trip that morning. (They get the news that the plane had an accident and Angela didn’t survive later in the evening)

Afterwards, Glimmer moves out of the cafe, finding it to be too empty. This leaves the top floor of the cafe completely open. She’s living with Bow and Adora now!

Scorpia, a panicking second manager of Hoard cafe, is juggling running the cafe, keeping Catra in check and finding a new place 

Double Trouble, as is their job for the owner, finally fills out their form on what had happened while Hordak was away. He finally learns that Entrapta didn’t leave him. 

Scorpia goes to the Princess Alliance and tells them that she heard their top floor was open. She’s desperate

It takes a few times to get them to agree, but the Princess Alliance realize that there’s no point in fighting like this. After a few more hours of haggling with the cost, Scorpia turns to leave

She comes back after a couple seconds. “Um, actually, is Entrapta here?”

Scorpia and Entrapta come back into Hoard cafe, chatting. Hordak walks out of the back, holding Imp. Entrapta looks over and sees him. She just jumps him, helping both of them stay up and holding Imp with her hair. 

“Did you hear the news?” She laughs

Scorpia jumps in, telling Hordak how they found a place for the shop to go; right above the Princess Alliance. Entrapta is really helping Scorpia sell it, but Catra is getting upset. 

“No! We’re enemies or whatever, right? We shouldn’t be sharing space with them!” 

Hordak has already given his okay. “I’m sure we’ll be able to become closer, Catra, it should be alright.”

Catra is extremely reluctant about all of this, but while they’re setting up in the top area, she’s beginning to rekindle her friendship with Adora. (And also maybe feeling like at some point her feelings had stopped being just platonic. She has no clue when this happened.)

Scorpia is doing pretty well with taking boxes of stuff up, and after a while they figure out that the dark aesthetic won’t be working well side by side with the pastel fluff that is the Princess Alliance. So Scorpia says they change it up a bit. So she goes downstairs and, “Is anyone free right now?”

It’s Perfuma that looks over. “Oh! Yes, I am!”

Scorpia gives a little smile. “Great! We need some design help and we were wondering..”

With a happy gasp, Perfuma hangs up her apron and walks upstairs. Perfuma is made for this. After being told that they’d like to keep the general dark aesthetic, she says that giving it that certain quiet feel, very unlike the loud chatter that comes from downstairs, students will likely want to come by to study

It’s a hit. A few plants with calming aromas, gifted by Perfuma herself, and some teas that help with stress made by Scorpia, students are running in. It’s generally very quiet here, and it’s really helping the stress that the employees go under too!

Scorpia and Perfuma may or may not have gotten closer in a romantic sense because of this-

Catra and Adora are also getting closer, friends first, then girlfriends. It’s quite the trip for everyone else in the shop. 

Entrapta and Hordak are basically just parents to Imp now, and Imp’s only job at this point is to make fun of Hordak for having a crush. It is a romantic relationship, yes

At some point the the Hoard and Princess Alliance become one place with two names. Menu is the same on both floors and anyone can be a waiter at whichever floor they like. 

Just a few things that exist but aren’t really plot relevant:

Hordak has anger issues and trouble understanding his feelings 

Hordak has weak bones in his arms specifically

Imp is Hordak’s nephew who he ended up adopting after Imp’s parents died

Hordak and Entrapta both like working with robotics

Entrapta is making a project to support Hordak’s weak arms in order to help him do things. Talking with his doctor to figure out what’s safe and such

Frosta is Glimmer’s cousin who has been given the okay to volunteer at the cafe. She comes and goes as she pleases and whether or not you get a Frosta special depends on whether she’s in or not

Time for the specials!

Entrapta’s: Donut holes. Her special is a pack of donut holes that are literally the best you’ve ever tasted. Your pack has one of each flavor and they are made with such care- just- No special drink for her though

Perfuma: Mango hibiscus clementine cold tea. I have had it before. It tastes really freaking good. She always grows a little flower for you to eat and puts it on top. The texture of the flower is nice, and the petals are sweet. The food portion is a fruit salad with flower petals sprinkled on top!

Frosta: Icecream sunday! And slushie! No one knows what exactly goes into the flavoring on top, but it tastes really good and Frosta promises it’s safe for all allergies she knows of. Makes sure to ask about any allergies though, just in case!

Mermista: It’s a small cake. Has this general water/beach vibe! Drink changes from day to day. Always an iced coffee though!

Glimmer: Cupcakes!! The inside of the cupcake has a small portion of sprinkles. Very sweet, too sweet for some. Pastel smoothie too! Family recipe, shared between Angela and Glimmer. Has sprinkles littered on top of a nice helping of whipped cream! Very glittery

Angela: Called the heart of Etheria. Not one single person knows what it’s classified as, and only Glimmer and Angela know how to make it. It’s heavenly

No more specials (Scorpia doesn’t work at Princess Alliance)

Micah and Angela had a divorce when Glimmer was young. It wasn’t because they disliked each other or anything, just, Micah learned that he was aromantic and felt a little bit uncomfortable with the marriage. They broke it off as friends and lived under the same house- like, it was all exactly the same, except they didn’t have the title of husband and wife

Then Micah had to go away because he found a job somewhere else and they ended up loosing contact

Swiftwind lives on the farm with LightHope

Catra and Adora are childhood friends who had the same Preschool teacher: Shadow Weaver

Angela lives on the second floor of the cafe with Glimmer

Entrapta has a roomba and she’s taken to it the way tumblr has

Entrapta has a tiny Emily that she made with Hordak’s help at a robotics workshop

Adora lived with Catra and moved to share an apartment with Bow afterwards

Shadow Weaver may or may not have died shoving Catra and Adora out of the way of a car that was driving on the sidewalk

There are fricking huge windows looking out on the street for both floors and on the other side of the street is a grassy park, so it’s really nice.

#death tw #shera #car accident

[citialiin]

STUDY    :   ziggy stardust , baybee !!!  TAGGED BY    :   @ thatcertainnight​ ... thank you !!!  TAGGING: you !!!!!!!!!!!!!! i guess !!!!!!!!!!!!!! tag me in it so i can seeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ? pretty tall ! 5′10″ -- not super tall, but when you add an extra 3+ inches due to high heels or platforms, he is Monstrously tall.  how thin he is also gives the illusion of extra height.  

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ? he’s fine with it -- he likes the respect that comes with the height.  

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ?

bright, deep orangeish red -- looks like it’s dyed, but its au naturale, babey.  his hair is about shoulder length and curls at the end -- it’s swept back, out of his face, and usually held there with hairspray.  no mullet. citialiin is an anti-mullet zone, and for that i sincerely apologize.  

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ? o absolutely.  he has elevated vanity into high art.  he has meticulous routines for hair, skincare, etc. and spares no expense in buying the best for his physical appearance.  it eats up a lot of time to look this good, but he would rather be late and hot than on time and unkempt.  he almost refuses to be seen without at least some amount of time to get ready -- this is also because he has to cover his weird alien forehead mark, lest his strange secret be revealed to the world.  

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ? enormously.  in a sense, he doesn’t care what others think in that he obeys only his own fashion tastes only, as eccentric or weird as they may be. if people tell him some shoes are ugly but he steadfast believes that they’re great, he’s still going to wear those shoes anyways and mock you for having bad taste.  his appearance is a deeply important thing to him and a form of self-expression and individuality, which he considers tenants of his personality.  how he looks is a reflection of who he is, and he is cool and better than you. he is more apt to wear something hideous that he likes than something considered fashionable but he considers boring: luckily, he has pretty good (if not very bizarre) taste in clothes, and looks somewhat avant-garde, but also somewhat like a closet threw up on him.  

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ?    indoors. ▸     RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ?    sunshine -- but not too much, because he hates being uncomfortable. ▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ?    neither. outside sucks.  ▸     PRECIOUS    METALS    OR    GEMS ?  both--together, preferably.  ▸     FLOWERS    OR    PERFUMES ?    perfumes. ▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ?    he might initially say appearance, and while he certainly is very superficial, what truly makes him iconic -- and what he most likes about those who he is close to -- is personality and individuality.   ▸ BEING    ALONE    OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ?     both, but at different times -- he needs attention just as much as he needs privacy.  he can’t go too long without either.   ▸ ORDER    OR    ANARCHY ?    anarchy. ▸     PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ?   white lies. ▸ SCIENCE    OR    MAGIC ?     science.  ▸ PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ?    peace. ▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ?    night. ▸     DUSK    OR    DAWN ?    dusk. ▸ WARMTH    OR    COLD ?    warmth. ▸     MANY   ACQUAINTANCES    OR    A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ?   he has many acquaintances, and he has very few close friends, too; he prefers his friends, but he needs the attention and blind worship and endless compliments from the acquaintances.   ▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?  reading.

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ? the list is eternal!! there are things that hurt only himself: excessive drinking, staying up until four and sleeping until two, cigarettes, drugs, sex, the perils of Dat Rockstar Lyfe, but there are a lot of things he does that also affect others: he tends to be careless with people’s feelings and can sometimes be callously rude or mean.  it’s difficult for him to look past himself and be selfless, because he’s so stuck up and so lost in his own world that he never really manages to consider that other people feel just as deeply as he does until it’s too late.  he’s also gullible and naive, but hardly realizes this, making it pretty easy to manipulate him, not that he isn’t often also (unintentionally) manipulating others for his own selfish benefit.  most of these bad habits, however, are learned, and not necessarily innate to his personality; he was a much Nicer alien before he got lost in his lifestyle.

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM ? not yet.  he’s only twenty six and has only been on earth for four years.  he has a very long lifespan, over twice what a normal human would live, so this is going to be an inevitability that he hasn’t considered either due to his short-sighted nature or because he intentionally isn’t willing to think about it.  

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ? mostly memories of his various successes -- selfish things, like sell out concerts, iconic interview moments, climbing his shiny ladder of stardom.  but there are personal things that may not be quite as exciting to relive but that he considers important: meeting his bandmates for the first time, meeting anyone who he considers himself close to for the first time, hearing music for the first time, etc. he has so many firsts and they’re all in his very recent memory.

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ? o fuck no. he’s just some dude.  he would never hurt another person beyond maybe a punch or a slap if they made him really angry.  i think the planet he came from before he came to earth was so far advanced that any semblance of violence was just some primitive memory of lesser-evolved society; upon coming to earth, knowing that there’s still stuff like murder and whatever is horrifying and freaky to him.  it’s like if you went to go live with a tribe of chimps and you just  have to accept that your brethren regularly kill smaller monkeys and tear them apart as a means of bonding (i hate chimps. fyi)

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ? equally heartbreaking and laughably pathetic.  he’s a very dramatic, over the top person, but he’s also very genuine in some ways, so it depends: if he had a freak out over something insignificant, you’d probably think it was funny that he let himself get so worked up over some dumb thing and now he has like mascara tears and he’s sobbing that life is unfair and he never gets his way wah everything is awful he hates everything !!!!  but in the same vein, he has a lot of things to rightfully panic over: he’s far from home and utterly alone. so if he had a freak out over that, it would be a little more sympathetic, because he is under a lot of strange pressure, and even if he is a whiny dipshit, he deserves to feel sad for things that are genuinely upsetting. when he’s upset, however, spotlight’s on him, so you wait your turn to be upset when he’s done. 

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ? sort of -- maybe.  i think he trusts himself, most of all, but his more whimsical or romantic side likes to think that he could utterly give himself to another person.  but he’ll always be withholding some sliver, just because he’s Weird and Not Human and ideas of things like romance are very human-centric.  

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ? strangely enough, equal parts terrible and equal parts very sweet.  being comfortable with another person clearly means that he has some level of trust in them and that he will likely allow himself to be rude, callous, talk too much, whine a lot, etc.  you’re supposed to take care of him !!! how can you not want to cater to his every weird ass whim and fancy !!! but in the same vein, i think he understands he has capital i Issues and if anyone could force him to change for the better, it would be because he loved them (whether romantically or platonically) and sought to make them happy.  i think the thing is that while he’s a very flirty or coquettish person, he isnt very keen on romance and tends to be weary of devoting himself in any sense to other people.  so it’s difficult for him to get to this point at all, unless you’re Real Special.  

#i truly appreciate when you guys are nice enough to tag me in these fun things .... #but i also acknowledge that i take like a month to do them .... #so big sorry ........... #i am so tired ............................. #i try to be active but Real Life Things Like Working And Schol #And CLeaning Dog Vomit OFf the Floor #ooc #KEEP YOUR 'LECTRIC EYE ON ME ; queue

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 17

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: Is anyone still there? I swear things are going to happen soon, your pain is nearing the end now hehe (I love writing slow burns)

Word count: 2.7k

Part 16 <<< >>> Part 18

MASTERLIST

               From the outside, a sense of normalcy seemed to have returned in their lives. Peter waited for Emmeline outside the door to her class; Emmeline walked with Peter and Tessa in-between her classes on Fridays; they sometimes ate together before she returned home at the end of the day.

               The outcome of their conversation was certainly not one Peter had known to expect. He had been prepared to wave goodbye to the friendship he had built with Emmeline – and tried very hard not to think about what it would have become if he hadn’t fucked up. Then again, nothing could ever have happened between them as long as she didn’t know the truth about him.

               The first Saturday, when she walked out of the elevator and made a beeline for him in the Stark Tower lab, Peter broke into a grin that wouldn’t waver the entire day.

“Hey you!” she greeted him, returning the beaming smile and joined him behind the desk.

“Hey yourself,” Peter answered, almost twisting his neck when he followed her with his gaze.

               She set down her bag and hung her coat on the back of a chair before coming to stand next to him.

“What are you working on?” she wondered, leaning in to have a closer look. “Is this a miniature motorbike?” Her eyebrows shot so high up that Peter lost sight of them.

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s just-“ he caught himself right before the lie came out, and just when Emmeline gave him a skeptical side glance. “I mean, yeah. It’s for Hope. It’s got all kinds of equipment and features that normal bikes don’t have, of course. And it’s fast – like real fast.”

“Hope?” Emmeline asked.

               She didn’t point out Peter’s deep blush that he always seemed to sport whenever he said anything related to his work with the Avengers. Unlearning to lie about his double life would take a while, they were both aware of that fact.

“The Wasp,” he explained. He took the motorbike in his hand to have something else to focus his attention on, and try to get his own face in check. It shouldn’t be possible to blush this much. “It’s not its normal size, obviously. Just checking a few things before she tries it out.”

               Emmeline made a hand gesture, silently asking if she could hold it and Peter handed it over very carefully, letting her lift it to eyelevel and examine it from up close. She didn’t say anything, only hummed appreciatively a few times.

“When will I meet the Avengers?” she asked as she put it back on Peter’s desk.

               Peter’s jaw dropped and he stayed open-mouthed and at loss for words a few seconds, until he saw the expression on Emmeline’s face and the glimmer of playfulness behind her eyes.

“You already met two of them. The best ones,” he told her, now standing up.

               He would finish working on Hope’s motorbike later; when Emmeline dropped by, they worked together on his Spider suit. It was the first time they would work on it knowing it was his…

“Oh! Of course, silly me!” she laughed, slapping her palm against her forehead. “Turns out, you’re the most famous of us two! Who’d have thought, ugh?”

               Peter rolled his eyes and turned around, walking backwards as they made their way towards the back of the room.

“I also photograph way better than you,” he teased her before quickly dodging her arm when she attempted to smack his head. “What’s that in your hand?” he asked when he spotted the paper bag and the familiar logo.

“Oh nothing…” Emmeline trailed off, lifting the bag and peeking inside. “Only your favorite muffin from your favorite place,” she announced, holding the bag behind her back and out of reach when Peter tried to snatch it from her hand. She placed a palm flat against his chest to keep him at a distance.

               Not that it could stop Peter, but her mere touch sent him in a state of complete submission and he froze immediately when her hand was over his heart. He dropped his hand.

“No, you didn’t. I stopped there on my way here, they were all out. I say you’re bluffing!”

“Oh, not for me, baby, they aren’t,” she bragged, wiggling her eyebrows and walking past him, bag still out of his reach. “And since you’re so mean to me, I might eat it myself. If you want one, try going there in your Spider suit!”

“Isn’t that abuse of power?” he wondered, though seriously considering her suggestion. Nah, if Tony found out, he would confiscate the suit, and then wouldn’t he look smart scouting the streets of Queens in his old, DYI suit?

“You kids having a good time?” Mr. Stark’s voice suddenly asked, coming out of nowhere. Emmeline and Peter looked around but saw no one. “Cameras, guys. They are everywhere. Microphones too. Just casually letting you know, in case you decide to get naughty because you think I can’t see you.”

“Ah!” Emmeline exclaimed dramatically, raising both hands in the air. “Here goes my plan for the day!”

“Keep it in your pants, this is a workplace, we only do work-related stuff and nothing fun whatsoever,” Stark said, unable to sound even remotely stern. Then he switched on some music, blasting AC/DC in the lab. “Now get to work, I don’t pay you to slack off!”

               He seemed to tune off and only the background music remained, but Peter frowned and shot Emmeline a confused look.

“Pay? He doesn’t pay us?” He said it like a question, wondering if he was being paid this whole time and didn’t realize. “For my fake internship?”

“I don’t know about you, but I got a legit internship. So yeah, I’m getting paid now.” She shrugged and Peter picked up the clue.

“What? Since when? Why haven’t you told me?” he questioned, feeling a little offended that she kept that from him all this time.

               She winced.

“It’s pretty recent…” she trailed off, biting on her lip. “Tony came to my place shortly after New Year’s Eve,” she started and Peter immediately knew what was what.

               Tony Stark, ever the match-maker, decided to take matters in his own hands and help Peter out after he confessed that Emmeline found out about his secret identity. Or maybe he was simply desperate to get Peter to stop mopping around in his lab.

“I thought he came to plead your cause so I told him to go fuck himself at first,” she then told him. Those words pulled the brakes on Peter’s train of thoughts.

               He stared blankly at her for a second or two or more.

“You said what to who now?” he asked dumbly, blinking slowly while she rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s true,” Tony’s voice came again. It seemed it came out of the same speakers through which F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke. “I have the recording, if you want to hear it. And see? She calls me Tony!”

“It’s very rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations!” Peter snapped before remembering who he was talking to. “Can we have a little privacy, Mr. Stark?”

               Only a faint chuckle answered his request, then it was only Back to Black again. He could only hope he wasn’t listening anymore. For being such a busy person, Tony sure had a lot of time on his hands if he spent it spying on him whenever his crush was around.

               Peter was pulled out of his internal musings by Emmeline’s laughter.

“You’re too cute, you know that?” she simply asked, not expecting an answer but chucking him the muffin. “Anyway, long story short: he didn’t come to beg me to forgive you on your behalf, but he offered me an internship.”

“A real one? A legit, normal internship?” Peter felt the need to ask for clarification.

“No, I’m actually a superhero too now. Code name’s Captain Sarcasm,” Emmeline replied with a smirk.

               She crossed her arms over her chest while Peter glared at her through narrowed eyes, not appreciating the jokes she made at his expense.

“Don’t you make that face at me, Peter Parker!” She held out a finger and poked him in the chest. “I bought you the best and also last pecan and white chocolate chip muffin in all of New York City, it’s a debt you’ll never be able to pay off, so you better be nice to me.”

“I saved your life! Twice!” he pointed out.

               He didn’t really think about what he was doing when he grabbed her finger – he just wanted to make her stop poking him accusingly in the chest. But then he was holding her hand against his own chest, and she still didn’t move it, and he was ready to melt on the floor right then and there. Where was Tony when he needed him?

“Who’s counting?” she simply said with a smile.

               Without letting go of his hand, she walked the last few steps to their workshop, dragging him along.

 *

                 Emmeline hadn’t left town to avoid Peter; she didn’t hole herself up in her room and left all other rooms of her penthouse in the dark to throw him off. No, Emmeline hadn’t done that.

               What she had done, though, was blackmail her own parents into getting her out of her big, empty penthouse and allow her to gain some kind of autonomy. After the events of December, she had something to hold against them, something that would sink her father’s political career faster than the Titanic: they had left her behind.

               The mayor and his lady wife had fled the scene of the shooting, ignoring all their supposedly natural parental instincts that would have made them stay until they knew their daughter was safe. The city was still recovering from the event, it would be the perfect timing for Emmeline to go live on TV, telling everyone what terrible parents they were.

               They had spent her entire life forcing riches onto her as if it made up for everything else that lacked in her life. She chose to take this as a fair retribution. She told them to sell the penthouse, that she never wanted to set foot there again, and instead to buy her a reasonably sized place of her own choosing, in a quiet and not so in-your-face neighborhood, a place normal people with a decent income could also afford, and not only the wealthy 1 %.

               The new place was in her name, entirely paid for. All she asked of her parents now was to cover her expenses until she had a steady job of her own. In exchange, she would keep her scandalous family secrets to herself, continue to play pretend when they needed to appear as a united family, but not have any other ties to them. She was legal after all, the only thing still tying her down was her lack of money.

               She did have a pretty hefty amount of money in her trust fund, but she wouldn’t have access to it for another few years, and she was petty enough to ask her parents to pay for everything a while longer – they liked to buy her affection so much, she figured buying her silence would be the same.

               The new place was radically different, in all aspects. Peter liked it a lot, and he had told her so many times. She didn’t keep anything from her old apartment, expect one object.

“I can’t believe you kept this, of all things,” Peter mused, throwing the glasswork in the air and catching it behind his back.

               He did this now. He showed off. Emmeline noticed a few subtle changes in his behavior since she found out he was Spider-Man. He didn’t hold back anymore now that he didn’t have to pretend to be an average young man, he allowed himself more liberty around her. She liked that.

“It has a certain sentimental value, you see,” she had told him, taking it from him and setting back on its stand. “Couldn’t leave it behind.”

               Peter chuckled and continued to explore the place. It was a typical open space apartment in one of those old buildings that get restored every ten years. This one had a particular charm, and the lighting was great. She had done marvelously well with the decorating.

               The wooden floor that creaked in some places was her favorite thing, she told him. The walls were a warm dark red color on the side where her bed proudly stood, and the rest of the apartment was painted a dusty orange. Only warm, rich colors, with wooden furniture, lots of small lamps to creates a cozy atmosphere.

               He hadn’t truly measured how impersonal her previous place was, how unlike her. It was obvious now that she hadn’t had a word to say in the decoration of the penthouse, while everything here had been her choice. Every book on her shelves, every plant hanging from the ceiling, and every cushion lined with fringes.

“You’re unusually quiet,” she commented when Peter still hadn’t spoken a word after ten minutes of looking around. “Do you hate it?”

               Peter spun around, hand in his front pockets, a little smile dancing on his lips.

“It’s great. I love it.”

“But?” she pressed him.

“But there’s no balcony.” He pouted, but Emmeline’s frown turned into a smirk. “What? Is there?”

               She lived on the first floor, she couldn’t have one.

“Come with me,” she said, gesturing him to follow her.

               They walked past the bed and the kitchen area and to a narrow backdoor that he had assumed led to an inner courtyard, or a private parking space. But it wasn’t that.

“Wha-“ Peter couldn’t believe his eyes. “You have your own garden in New York City?” he asked, fighting the urge to touch the grass to make sure it was real. It was small, but real.

“Even better than a balcony, ugh?” Her smirk grew even wider. “Thought it was a nice touch, and Bella loves it.”

“I can imagine,” Peter replied distractedly, picturing Tessa playing here.

               He stopped himself right there. He couldn’t let himself wander on such slippery slopes right now. Why would his mind even go there? Emmeline had only just let him back into her life, two weeks ago he thought he had ruined everything between them. He couldn’t think about how much Tessa would enjoy having a bit of open space instead of living in a small student dorm.

               He especially shouldn’t linger too much on the homey feel of her place, of how hard it hit him that he would love to live in a place like this. He simply couldn’t think about her the way he did.

               There was much to rebuild before he could even think about making a move again. Whatever small step he had taken when he asked her out was in the past now. Since then, he had taken a hundred steps backwards, and now he had to fix what he broke before thinking about picking up where they left things off.

               Trust, among other things.

               He had to unlearn his automatic response to inquisitive questions, become used to tell her the truth when he had to disappear at random times of the day, something for a few hours, sometimes for days. He hadn’t realized how many white lies he told within a single day before he started telling the truth.

“It’s…”

               He couldn’t find his words anymore, suddenly too overcome with emotion to speak. It was a daunting task to try and mend the broken limbs of their fragile relationship, and the weight of his own lies and mistakes felt heavy on his chest. It would take time, patience, effort, resilience.

               However, when he turned around to meet her expectant smile, waiting for him to finish his sentence, it didn’t seem that impossible, and more than anything: he realized it would be worth it. She was worth it; and if he had been head over heels for her before, he realized he had another thing coming, because now that she was freer than ever, she would truly begin to shine and blossom in a way she couldn’t until now.

“It’s perfect.”

.

.

.

Reblog to save a writer

Taglist: @of-virtuoso @justanothergenzkid @the-freefeather​ @complete-trash-101​

#peter parker #tom holland #spider-man #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x oc #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #college au #tony is alive #mcu #marvel #writing is hard #spider-man: homecoming #spider-man: far from home #spiderman #spider-man: ffh #post canon #canon divergent #original character #aged up!peter parker #aged up! characters #aged up!characters #tom holland imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfic #slow burn

[birdie-bea-moved]

okay I know I rarely (ie never) talk about arthurian legends and stuff but uh i had this idea a while ago and Idk here it is now

(this was going to be a short summary post i said, it wont be that long i said)

TW for death/child death its just mentioned and if your familiar with arthurian legend then you know whats coming but extra warning here too

TLDR arthur gets dethroned because he killed babies, morgause takes over, arthurs ""banished"" and hide in northern briton, arthur finds baby mordred and raises him, they come back to camelot years later and secrets get revealed its all emotional and shit goes down

so first off its an AU

its the same prophecy as alway "morgause's son will be the downfall of the reign of king arthur" (paraphrasing) but this time the prophecy is immediately self-fufilling

when the news spreads around that the kings gone parinoid and drowned babies because of it the smaller kings, lord, many commoners, and even some of his own men rise up against him, magic prophecy sword be damned

there are a couple of battle, barely enough to call it a war and Arthur gets dethroned (Merlin disappears too) and Morgause (with her relation to Uther) gets crowned Queen of the Britons and personally decided Arthur punishment as new leader and because of the loss of her child at his hands

So Arthur is told to "never show his face near Camelot again" and since he doubt a boat will allow him passage off the island he decides to go to the north border of the island where its less populated and live as a secluded hermit and sustain himself off of fishing

He's avoiding people as much a he can and there are rumors of some of the water becoming haunted because of the lost souls of the children from may day and illusions by their souls to hurt any who come near, people have even been leaving the area because of it, so arthur figures he'll move there, free easy shelter and the lost souls of his sins make him pay

So he wandering among the recently abandoned houses and he hears crying coming from a house right on the waters edge, its sound like an infant crying, and Arthur go checks its if only for him to face the blood on his hands head on

He does find an infant though, with blonde hair like his own and eyes like his half-sister, and he just break down crying/laughing then and there because he's holding the baby that was to fulfill the prophecy he feared so much when its already come true

He wants to contact Morgause, but any knight would probably kill him on sight without question

So from there on out he swears to raise the child, as best he can, and so he does he teaches them fishing, cooking, and all other things a parent should, trying to manage the magic the kid has, and the child is enamoured with the old stories of knighthood he tells, and so he starts to teach them the ways of a knight, and and the child names them self Mordred, and Arthur hides a wince behind his smile and support

Because Arthur is hiding things, He knew he couldn't tell Mordred when they were young, much to dark of a past for a child, but the child is growing into a young man, and Arthur's excuse is growing weak until he realises the only thing holding him back is the fear of losing his son, "his" son the one he tried to rid the world of so long ago

But things are still peaceful in their family, they fish and hunt and live a calm life, Mordred handles going into town for any harder to home make goods, and he's got a few friends in town, but Arthur grows nervous as his son readies to head out into the world

Then a knight, a real one, come into town when Mordred is their and calls for his father saying he has been summoned to see Queen Morgause, Mordred of course takes the letter back to his father, a summons from the queen!, maybe he's being called back to help the crown, he had so many stories of knighthood, maybe Mordred could become a real knight in Camelot

His father reacts badly, they dont talk for two days, till his says to sell what they can and buy to horse to head to Camelot, Mordred is, of course, excited caught in daydreams of proving himself to be a knight, and Arthur dreads for all he hasn't said and the time limit on his secrets

They reach Camelot and Mordred has already started a fight with people cause "how dare they treat my father in such a way", so they end up walking(getting dragged) to the throne room Morguase tries to start with a angry/snarky comment but stops when she sees Mordred, a young man with her eyes, and her jaw drops, she looks at Arthur and all he says, is "I have a lot to explain"

and wow cliffhanger ending my really long au post its more likely than you think anyway from here it

- Morgause realizing her childs been alive this entire time and the man she though killed them has been raising him

- Mordred having this whole bomb dropped on him, and his reaction

- Arthur desperately not wanting to lose his son and trying to bring peace between him and Morgause

- Mordred family size expanding after a pretty solitary home life (4 brothers ,a sister, a mom + step dad, an aunt (morgan {court sorceress}), and step uncle? (Kay))

- the Orkney sibs "hey yknow that sibling i told you was killed as a baby" "yeah?" "well actually theyre alive and here right now"" "whAA"

- Havent Mentioned Kay much but he's torn up about Arthur cause his step brother is back and he's tried to make up but Kay also sided against Arthur way back when

- Mordred learning much more about his magic cause lets be honest Arthur couldn't teach him much

- Guin and Lance are together cause Arthur was never in between them in this au

- Galahads there around the same age as Mordred, likes his step mom (guin)

- Merlin is lurking in the background cause after he effed up he went even more extreme than before and is now plotting to put Arthur back in power

yeah I'll probably do/add more later but yeah

#arthurian #arthuriana #mordred #arthur #morgause #AU #feather quills #< writnng tag i guess #death mention #death tw #child death mention #child death tw

[turtle-steverogers]

you’re fuckin (coco)nuts

idek, @suddenly-im-respecsable told me i should become a coconut engineer and then we astral projected for this and somehow it turned into “WRITE A CRACK FIC FOR THIS” and then i did

warnings: dumbassery

ship: platonic sprace, ralbert

editing: nooooo its about FUCKING COCONUTS

word count: 1250 ish

-

“God this is just what I needed,” Race smiled serenely as he settled onto his towel, handing Spot one of the pina coladas he’d gotten from the small stand by their resort.  

A long year spent working extra hours and saving up money had lead the two boys to Oahu, Hawaii for their Spring Break.  Admittedly, it’d still put a significant dent in their wallets, which wasn’t entirely ideal considering they were graduating college in a few months and probably couldn’t afford to go bankrupt.  But, things had been stressful recently and this was self care.  

“Me fucking too, man,” Spot agreed, sitting up and pushing his sunglasses up his nose as he accepted the drink from Race, “and this weather is fucking sexy.”

Race choked on his pina colada, spluttering for a moment before looking at Spot, “Did you just call the fucking weather sexy?”

Spot shrugged, “You got another word for it?  It’s sunny and warm with that perfect cool breeze.  Sexy.”

Race stared at him for a moment before facing the ocean again, shaking his head, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Spot laughed, shifting around on his own towel to look at the ocean.  It truly was beautiful.  The ocean was almost impossibly turquoise and the clear water shimmered softly in the sunlight.  Palm trees surrounded them on all sides, giving the area a pleasantly enclosed feeling.  Like they’d found their own little universe, completely separate from everything else.

Race hummed as he became acutely aware of the sun beating down onto his shoulders and he reached around to fish a bottle of sunscreen out of his bag.  He squirted a fair amount onto his hands and began lathering it onto his skin.

“Lil’ bitch,” Spot coughed, clearing his throat.

Race froze in his actions and shot an incredulous glare at Spot, “You think you’re tougher than the sun? The fucking sun?”

Spot pursed his lips, looking like he wanted to make a comeback, but falling short of an intelligent sounding one.

Race sat up straighter and continued to rub the sunscreen into his shoulders, “That’s what I thought.”

The lapsed into silence, drinking in the view and allowing their stresses to slowly drain from their minds.  At one point, Spot pulled out a book and Race found himself dozing.  They stayed like that for what could have been hours until Spot shut his book pointedly, using it to prod Race awake.

Race opened his eyes slowly, raising his eyebrows, “Can I help you?”

Spot stood up, shaking out his towel and successfully spraying Race with sand, “I’m bored, let’s explore.”

Race huffed indignantly, wiping the sand out of his eyes before standing as well.  He rolled up his own towel and shoved it into his beach bag.  He hastily slipped on his sandals before shouldering his bag and jogging to catch up with Spot, who’d already set out towards the main street of the resort.

They made it all the way to the path that led them away from the beach when a war cry sounded above them.  Alarmed, they froze, heads jerking upwards in search of the source of the cry.  Before Race had a chance to see anything, a large object fell out of the palm tree directly above them, nailing Spot in the head.

Spot let out a grunt, careening forwards onto his knees as his hands flew to his head.

“Spottie!” Race exclaimed, rushing forward to kneel next to him, hands hovering over his shoulders.

“Son of a bitch,” Spot bit out, voice gravelly.  He lifted his head slowly, unfocused eyes fixating on the ground in front of him.  

“What the fuck,” Race muttered, picking up the object that had hit Spot.  It was a fucking coconut.

He looked up again, startling as he made eye contact with a guy.  He had red hair and was wearing a grass skirt over a pair of floral swim shorts.  He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but a large lei was secured around his neck, swaying slightly in the breeze.  If Race squinted, he could see a small twig crown resting on his head.  As weird as he appeared, there was an unconventional attractiveness to him.

“What the fuck,” Race repeated.  He raised his voice slightly, “Hey! Who the fuck are you and why did you throw a coconut at my friend?”

The guy smiled and flipped down from the tree, landing gracefully in front of Race, “The name’s Albert, I’m the coconut engineer here.”

Race blinked, completely bewildered, gaze landing on the pair of weed vans that Albert was wearing, “You’re...you...what!?”

Albert hopped down into a sit, crossing his legs under him and propping his chin on his hand, “Coconut engineer.”

“Yeah but what the fuck is that and why did it include concussing me,” Spot snapped, still sounding pained.

“I make sure coconuts don’t fall out of trees and injure tourists,” Albert said matter-of-factly, “But you had a bad aura, so I threw a coconut at you.”

“I had a- wait what?” Spot looked vaguely like he wanted to strangle Albert and Race wasn’t convinced that he wouldn’t if he were feeling up to it.

“Bad aura,” Albert said, picking up the coconut that he’d thrown at Spot and breaking it open with his bare hands.  He took a long sip of the water inside before continuing, “Looked kinda bruting and I saw you shake sand on Hottie McHottiekins from the spot in my tree.  You deserved it.”

Race choked, “What’d you just call me?”

Albert looked at him innocently, “Hottie McHottiekins.”

Race blushed and Spot groaned, “Oh, no no no, please tell me you’re not considering going out with Mr. Coconuts over here.”

Race ignored him and held out a hand, “The name’s Antonio, but Race is what I go by.”

Albert shook his hand, his grip firm and confident, “Nice to meetcha, Race.  Wanna go get sushi or something later?”

“Sure thing,” Race said, taking out his phone and handing it to Albert, who put his phone number in the contacts, “text me.”

XXX

Spot blinked open his eyes, the bright morning sunlight bleeding in through the blinds.  His head still ached from the coconut fiasco of the previous day, but after icing it for a bit and taking some ibuprofen, it was feeling significantly better.

He rolled over and dragged himself out of bed, stumbling down the hallway a few paces to Race’s room.  He knocked once before opening the door.

“Morning, I was thinking we could-” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing when he realized that Race wasn’t in his room.  In fact, Race’s bed didn’t look slept in at all.

He pulled out his phone, hurriedly pulling up Race’s contact.  Had Race even made it home from his date with Albert last night?

He was about to phone Race when the door to their small beach house opened.  Spot whirled around to find Race staring at him, wide eyed with a hand still on the doorknob.  He wasn’t wearing a shirt and a few small hickeys littered his chest.  His hair was sticking up on top and we was wearing a pair of pajama pants that Spot was certain he didn’t own.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, the air thick with anticipation.  Then Spot lowered his phone from his ear, which he belatedly realized he was still holding up.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “You fucked the crazy coconut guy.”

Race’s face turned bright red.

-

lmao welp i told myself i’d finish some greaser au shit and chap 10 of fugitives but this happened instead LOL at least im finally on break and can grind some shit out,,, maybe titanium too o.O

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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#newsies #ralbert #newsies fic #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #sprace #chaotic boys #lmao wtf even #al is wild

[thatsabae]

Salus - Chanyeol (mafia!au) | Chapter 1

genre: romance/drama/angst

summary: The thought of being back home always tormented you, ever since you left. You thought about all possibilities, but not one where your ex-boyfriend would want to be your friend again, just like before all that mess, as if it would be easy to ignore how your heart still races just by seeing him.

prologue |

Later that day, you would remember how it felt looking at Chanyeol again. It felt warm, the same as it always were, but it also felt different. You couldn’t explain it with words. The same way that it was good, looking at his handsome face again, it was dangerous. Dangerous because of how much your heartbeat increased. 

Before Chanyeol had his chance to say his own ‘hi’ back, you felt Minseok’s hand pressing your arm, pulling you behind himself so fast that you had to hold onto him to not fall from your high heels. 

“Don’t!” He whispered, pointing his finger to Chanyeol’s face. You felt the world twisting, leaving you sick. “Stay there”. 

Everyone was shocked at his reaction. The last time they all saw each other, that was not the mood. They were all friends, if not, at least friendly. What could have changed?

“Minseok, what’s wrong with you?” You whisper angrily, trying to hold back your tears, these you couldn’t tell if were for embarrassment or the pain on your heart. “Please, stop, you’re making a scene.” You ask him, pulling his arm but not able to move him. He was so angry, you could feel his arm shaking.

“Don’t dare.” He simply said, in the same tone. The guys were confused, Minseok was not the kind to these reactions. They could expect something like this from anyone else, but never him. Never the smiley and sweet Minseok. He was the one to control everyone else’s temper during negotiations. The softest of them all. 

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun tried to find words. “What did you do?” 

“What are you guys doing?” Junmyeon asked, his face red. You look at the other side of the saloon and find too many curious looks, staring all the scene he was making. And there’s Maria, worried. What a great first impression. You close your eyes, trying to pretend they do not exist. Breath.

Minseok seems to realize that too, so he put his hands down. 

“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun tried again, catching his attention. 

“I don’t know.” His eyes finally leaving you to stare at his friend. He looks confused. Shocked.

Your hold gets tighter on Minseok’s arm, nails craving on it, and you realize only when his hands force you to lose your grip.

Inspire, expire. No tears. 

He didn’t even know why would Minseok react like this. You take another look at his face, to be sure if he’s being honest and really don’t know or if he is just pretending, so the others wouldn’t ask anymore, making the whole situation get worse. What you see makes the pain grows bigger in your chest. Tears back in your eyes. 

Chanyeol is just as confused as the others.

It’s better like this. Breath, please. 

You can feel the salty flavor in your throat, left there by the tears you didn’t allow to leave your eyes. 

“Minseok, please…” 

“I have no idea what happened, but please, not here. Later.” Junmyeon whispered, with the voice that leaves no open space for any other saying. He was not asking. 

“Can we talk?” You almost miss Chanyeol asking, daring, realizing he was talking to you only because of Minseok’s body tensing again. 

You look at Carla, beside you, scared of how Minseok reacted. She never saw him this angry before, not even in their worst fights. You needed to do something, this was all your fault. You felt like a scared cat, that would do anything to take the next flight back home and hide under the bed. Just like you did these last eight years. 

Forcing a smile, you said: “I would love to talk with you, guys. I missed you all so much.” You look at your old friends' faces, pretending. Seeking help while running from Chanyeol.

Still not prepared for talking with them, you force yourself to walk into that balcony. Too much time spent in the ladies’ restroom, gaining time. You had your answers to most of their possible questions, but they were not good enough. They would never be enough to explain. 

“Where are the others?” 

“I shooed them away” Jongdae answered, rolling the cigarette on his lips. “Thought you wouldn’t be honest if they were here”. 

You chuckle, nervous. 

“What would I lie about, Jongdae?” 

Since when does he smoke?

“So many stuff. Starting from the reason about Minseok’s outbreak?” He offered you his cigarette and shoved it back into his mouth when he declined.

Your lungs were burning. Jongdae has always been the closest to you growing up, so you expected him to be the softest with you with questions. To at least try to be comprehensive.  

“How could I know that? Maybe one of the clients that Chanyeol sent him was a problem”. You felt the need to complete it. “You know how he is. He doesn’t like when his clients are too problematic”. 

“I see. Guess I was wrong, after all”. 

You sigh. 

“What did you thought?” You smile at him, trying to see his smile that you were so used to. It would help you calm down and think straight before answering. 

“That you wouldn’t lie to my face”. 

You had no words to reply, feeling like there was a steel knife on your windpipe. You could only face him the moment he passed through you, leaving behind the smell of his cigarette mixed with his favorite colony and alcohol. He still wore the same colony when you were both teenagers. 

“Are we still friends?” He paused at the door, before opening it and thought about your question. You couldn’t see his face, just his back, broader than how you remembered. Jongdae wasn’t a teenager anymore. 

“You will always be my best friend, no matter what, but it doesn’t look like I’m yours, Y/N. And it’s been a long time.” And he left you alone on the outside. Just you and the breeze. 

You couldn’t help thinking he was right. Before the very ending, he was not your best friend. Not anymore. That was Chanyeol’s position. There were things you just couldn’t talk to Jongdae but were so openly shared with Chanyeol.  At least Jongdae never left you. But you did it. You left him before and after, too. When things got too heavy, you didn’t think twice.

Junmyeon would have to forgive you, but it looked like you wouldn’t handle staying until the marriage day. Not that you felt welcome, anyway. 

You left the balcony too, to find Minseok and leave that party that felt like hell on Earth to you. 

“Good morning, Carla”.

Having breakfast was not something you looked forward to, never, and probably the worst part of your days, but living with two other people made you get used to at least sitting there before the work day start. Created a habit. Talk about useless things, interact. 

“Morning.” Her sad look worried you the same amount that made you feel guilty. Carla was always at her most happy state of mind. You would, very often, envy her. “He left just now. Office stuff to do with Junmyeon. I think he’s meeting Yixing after, at the office, contracts and boring conversations. We’ll have lunch alone today”. 

“I’m sorry. About that mess yesterday”. 

She took a sip of her coffee before looking at you, finally. 

“It’s not your fault, I know. It’s totally his”. 

“Don’t blame Minseok, please. He was just mad.” You try defending your cousin, but you knew this would be pointless. His wife was the most stubborn person you knew. 

“Not Minseok’s. He was right. Excessive? Maybe, but he wasn’t wrong”. 

Your mouth went dry, it was good that you were already seated. That was the first time that Carla made clear she knew, at least a little bit, about the whole mess with Chanyeol. You were the one mad at your cousin now. God have mercy on him because you wouldn’t.

You were not that silly to expect that his wife was still on the dark about it all, but you couldn’t help feeling fooled. You couldn’t even open up about it with Jongdae, or Alec, while Minseok simply told her how heartbroken you got after Chanyeol choose Meri instead of you.

“Will you visit your father today?” She asked, breaking your focus on her plate. You were probably staring it for way too long.

“I.” You started, not interested in keeping a conversation, but the doorbell caught your attention. “I’ll answer it”. 

You did not care who was at the door so early, it didn’t matter. You would thank the person for helping you to get out of there. You were hurt that Carla knew and you were not warned about it. How long did she know? Did she know it was very recently that you had stopped crying over it? Not that the night before counted.

Looking through the peephole, you find Baekhyun standing there, looking impatient and sleepy, as always. You were not in the mood to talk, but you opened the door anyway.

“How did you get inside the building?” 

“I’m an estate agent, don’t forget. I showed this apartment more times than I could remember. They all love me”. 

“You’re not that great if you couldn’t sell it”. 

You give him space to enter, but he didn’t move. 

“Is Minseok here?” He sounds tense, trying to look past you. Maybe afraid of the older one. You smiled. 

“Carla said he just left. Why?” Baekhyun seemed relieved and that worried you. 

“Then let’s go.” He pulled your hand. “Didn’t you say that you would love to chat with us?” His smile was ironic but you ignore it. “That’s your opportunity”. 

“Where are we going?” 

“To our favorite place in this whole big city.” You closed the door behind you, waving bye at Carla, that came to see what was taking so long. “Your father’s restaurant. He’s dying to talk to you”. 

You felt bad for leaving Carla all alone, but you were not ready to have that conversation yet. 

The moment you entered the restaurant, you felt silly for thinking that the ‘he’ Baekhyun mentioned was your father. You really had to make your legs work the moment you saw Chanyeol sitting at the most distant table with Sehun, chatting so casually. Like their world was not falling apart. 

While you waited for the waitress move so you could start walking again, you felt Baekhyun’s hands holding your arm. 

“If you feel uncomfortable, just tell me and we leave, okay? Don’t think I’m doing this because I want to.” He whispered to you. “You need to trust me, Y/N. I’ll always be your friend”. 

At that moment, you realized that Baekhyun knew it too. Of course, he would, Chanyeol and him were like hand and glove before. Things like this wouldn’t change. But there was no time to feel ashamed, you had to face something worst. 

Chanyeol got up so fast, the moment that you reached the table, that the chair would have fallen if Sehun wasn’t too quick holding it. 

Sehun, that wasn’t even legal when you moved, was the first to give you a hug. So tight, that you felt hope, you felt like things could get better. Maybe you could all be friends again, probably not like before, but… friendly.

“I’m glad you’re finally back”. 

You smile at him, trying to show you felt the same. 

“Jongdae didn’t want to come, right?” 

“He is…” Baekhyun tried to find a good excuse. “Busy with paperwork, you know, right? Many houses selling.” You saw on the news about how the market was doing terrible. 

Yeah. You understood. 

“Sehun, why don’t we wait outside?” Baekhyun called the younger. 

“What?” You felt the panic grows in you. “Why?” Realizing by their expressions, you add: “I mean, I thought you both wanted to talk to me too.” 

“We will. After.” Sehun just said, and you had nothing else to say, so they just left, leaving you alone with Chanyeol, except for the staff of the restaurant, getting ready for opening at lunch. 

The restaurant here was not very different from the one in China, that you’ve been administrating since you moved. You tried to make yourself worried about how things were going since you left, but your focus still was on the problem in front of you, literally. 

You sit, upset. Only then you realize that Chanyeol was silent the whole time and that you haven’t heard his voice for almost nine years, except for a few words the night before.

“I heard you are engaged. Jongdae told us last year”. 

Your pride didn’t let you deny. What use would it have? ‘Not anymore, seems like I couldn’t forget my first heartbreak after more than ten years’. 

“Yeah. But we don’t have the day yet”. 

“I’m happy for you. He must be a great guy”. 

“Alec is.” You feel a bitter taste in your tongue. “He’s also a lawyer. Works with Minseok”. 

There was no reason to add that, but you felt the need to. Showing off how great you were. Like you were not pitying yourself since he left you to be with Meri, thirteen years ago. Thinking like this, you felt you should seek help. You chuckle of the idea. 

Abroad, most of the times you didn’t even remember you had a different life, a different lover. It was just sometimes, an old memory that would happen to appear, uninvited. You didn’t need help, you need distance. 

“I’m not sure why Minseok is so angry at me”. 

“Neither do I.” You lie. “But you know how he is. When he’s stressed…” 

Chanyeol just nod, and you both stay silent. Not an awkward silence, but one of those that you know way too many secrets of the other one, so there’s nothing else to be said. 

“That’s what you wanted to say?” 

He looks at your eyes and you know your face is hot and red. Damn. 

“Actually… I just wanted.” He sighs. “I wonder why we are not friends anymore. I want it back”. 

“Oh.” You move uncomfortably in your sit. “I don’t know how to answer this. We never really had a point that we stopped being friends.” We just stopped being lovers. “You just… stopped calling. I know you were in a very bad time, but… You didn’t call me and I was mad…” 

“Give me one chance, to be your friend again. I can’t promise I won’t let you down again, but I promise I will do my best.” Chanyeol sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You have no idea how much I missed you these years. Someone to talk to. The guys… They never understood me like you did”.

He missed me. Like a friend.

“If you wanted to talk so badly, you could have called me, like you used to, before. You had my number. I never changed it”. 

“You know why I stopped calling you, Y/N”. 

He was right. You did. 

You didn’t feel cruel for saying it. He was the one being cruel, talking like it’s easy for you because he felt nothing at all. 

“I don’t.” You lied. “When I left eight years ago, I thought we were still friends.” You lied again, just wanting to hurt him, make him feel guilty. “We have grown now. I guess we must face the truth. We are not friends, and it may have been a lie back then, too”. 

Not wanting to face the cruel truth anymore, you left him and went outside, after Baekhyun. You were done talking and he promised to be your rescuer. Before your memories consummated you more, you needed to get out there.

Hi guys! My original plan was to only post it when the story was finished, but... Change of plans! I hope you guys like it and giving it love <3 

Also, I couldn't find the same gif, so I’ll try this one 😢

@jjong-dae77 @portietomednalynn @xcharlottemikaelsonx

#exo #chanyeol #exo chanyeol #yeol #exo mafia au #exo kpop #kpop #kpop exo #kpop mafia #mafia au #kpop mafia au #pcy #park chanyeol #pcy mafia #pcy mafia au #pcy au #exo au #kpop au #mafia #thatsabae #salus

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: Londerland Bloodlines -- Tower Assault

Hey, I said this AU was on my mind -- and with the release of the newest (pre-alpha, admittedly) gameplay trailer for Bloodlines 2, that's unlikely to change anytime soon. So -- let's have some fic! :D Today's offering was inspired by a previous “updating the verse” post I made, where I talked about a change I thought of regarding Alice's final assault on LaCroix's tower -- rather than going in the front door and fighting her way through all those guards, she manages to get herself some climbing equipment and scales the damn building while Obfuscated. As you might imagine, this is the last thing LaCroix is expecting when he tells his elite guards (and Chunk, here called Officer Norris because that’s his voice actor’s name) to watch out for her. . .

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

"Officer Norris? Has there been any sign of our – miscreant?"

"Uh, no, Mr. LaCroix!" Norris chirped over the intercom. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of her! Promise I'll let you know the moment she comes by."

"Very good, Officer Norris. Thank you."

"Uh, Mr. LaCroix?" Norris got out before he could release the button. "Not to, you know, pry into stuff that ain't my business, but – why is it you want me to keep her out all of a sudden? You weren't really clear on that before. And us in the security business – well, it's important we get our facts straight, ya know?"

"She betrayed me, Officer Norris," LaCroix replied, letting the words roll off his tongue with silver smoothness. Not that he needed to waste such talents on Norris, but – practice. "She betrayed quite a lot of people, actually. She's been selling secrets to other parties, making deals with unsavory sorts. . .and I have reason to believe she's recently caused the death of a potential business partner of mine."

"Oh wow! That is – never would have thought it of her! She's always seemed like a bit of a tough cookie, but the kind with a creamy center, you know? All molten chocolate and–"

"Focus, Officer Norris," LaCroix said, rolling his eyes. Mortals and their obsession with food. His eyes flicked over to the sarcophagus. Then again – I know what it's like to anticipate a meal.

"Yeah, sorry, Mr. LaCroix. Er – so, if Alice is this dangerous, shouldn't we, you know, call proper 9-1-1 and all that? I got some buddies in the call center–"

"I assure you that all the appropriate measures have already been taken," LaCroix cut in before Norris could go on another ramble about his "cop friends." "There is no way Miss Liddell is leaving this city without facing justice for her crimes. If she does come here, you have my full authorization to use lethal force."

"Right you are, Mr. LaCroix." Norris sighed. "Hope it doesn't come to that, though. Man, and here's me, thinking she's a pretty sweet girl once you get to know her. . ."

"The cruelest wolf can mimic the friendliest dog, Officer Norris. Remember that."

"Sure will, Mr. LaCroix. And you can call me Chunk, you know!"

LaCroix winced. "Given our relationship, Officer Norris, I don't think that's appropriate."

"Oh, yeah, yeah. . .well, anyway. I'll give you a call moment I see her."

"Thank you, Officer Norris." LaCroix released the intercom button, leaning back with a sigh. "To think I employ someone like that," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now that Bach's little group has been – disbanded, I should give him his walking papers." He smirked, one fang peeping through his lips. "Though I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it? Not with what's in our future."

Melech nodded shortly, then glanced at him, eyes questioning. "Oh, she'll come," LaCroix said, steepling his fingers in front of him. "She will most definitely come. That rabblerouser Jack will have told her by now I'm responsible for all her woes. And has she not made it very clear, during our last few meetings, that she wished our – alliance, shall we say, to be at an end? The girl is a Brujah trapped in a Malkavian skin. She must be itching for a chance to take out her temper on me, and damn the consequences."

Melech tilted his head, lips slightly pursed. "Yes, I called the Blood Hunt, but would you trust the average Brujah or Gangrel on the street to take her out?" LaCroix responded, looking up into that stony face. "After the miracles she's committed? May I remind you that she has destroyed both the local chapter of the Society of Leopold – including one of my personal enemies – and the heart of the Los Angeles Sabbat? Tasks that were beyond your capabilities? And there was that news report the other evening, of the massive wolf found crushed to death in the Griffith Observatory. Somehow, I doubt that was the work of Nines Rodriguez – though it still worries me that we can't confirm his Final Death." He sighed, then waved a hand. "Well, I suppose if he does turn up alive – so to speak – it will make the Anarchs happy. And so far they seem willing to believe that Alice has thrown her lot in with Ming Xiao and her nest of snakes. So long as they remain enraged enough to drive those ridiculous excuses for foreign vampires out of my city, I shall be content. And then. . ." He looked again at the sarcophagus, anticipation clinging to its every chip and crack. "Then we will make plans accordingly."

He pushed back his chair and stood up, walking with lazy grace to his favorite spot in front of the window. Los Angeles stretched out before him, twinkling in the dark. He reached out, longing to scoop it up and capture it in his fist. "A shame, really – she could have had it all," he mumbled, flexing his fingers. "I was just beginning to realize her worth as an agent. To survive everything she did, to accomplish so many difficult tasks as a mere fledgling. . .I will give Fish this – he picked someone worthy of being an eighth-generation vampire. If she'd only been a bit more deferential, a bit less – well, her. . .we could have done amazing things together."

Melech rumbled an agreement. LaCroix sighed. "But, of course, she refused to cooperate. To let her full potential grow under my guidance. To accept the wisdom of her elders and betters. No, she had to go it on her own – to forge down the path of the fool and the malcontent." He chuckled briefly. "At least I have the pleasure of knowing that the Anarchs don't trust her either. From what I've heard, she had an early falling-out with Nines, and the rest of them find her as irritating as I do." His brow furrowed briefly. "Perhaps we really did drive her to the Kue-jin. . .no, she's too smart for that. She'd know they'd never actually accept her." He laughed again, a little louder. "What a silly girl, to reject any and all that could help her! She must feel quite alone on those streets." He leaned toward the window, drinking in his city with his eyes, running his tongue over his fangs. "An apt punishment for the hubris of the newborn."

"God, you love the sound of your own voice, don't you?"

LaCroix recoiled backwards, the scream of a little girl ripping itself from his throat. On the other side of the glass, Alice rolled her eyes, adjusting the harness she wore. "As if getting up this bloody tower wasn't grueling enough," she continued, bracing her legs on either side of the window frame. "What exactly are you compensating for? You're not that short, and I have it on decent authority that your interest in your manly bits should have waned with the Embrace." She shrugged, bending her knees and adjusting her grip on her rope. "I'll leave the question for the primogen to debate. Right now – for putting up with all your posturing and other various pieces of bullshit, I believe you owe me your life. In the most direct sense possible."

With that, she pushed off, sailing into the air – then came rushing back, thickly-booted feet held out in front of her. LaCroix scrambled to safety under his desk as the window shattered, sending shards of glass flying. Melech raised his massive sword to shield himself as Alice rolled to a stop. "Ah – gah – GET HER!" LaCroix managed to shriek, waving one arm wildly in her direction.

His sheriff, fortunately, was quick to comply. He flung aside his sword and coat, spreading his arms wide as he called up on his dark Disciplines. Moments later, his human form morphed and twisted, stretching itself into the terrible gigantic bat LaCroix had only seen twice before. Alice gaped, eyes wide, one hand on her harness's release. "What–"

Melech shrieked at her and flung himself into the air. His talons locked around her arms, dragging her back out the window and snapping the harness like it wasn't even there. "Yes – NO!" LaCroix cried after him, suddenly conscious of the incredible violation of the Masquerade. Too visible, much too visible – but she couldn't be allowed to survive this night – "The roof!" he screamed. "Take her to the roof!"

Melech squealed and wheeled around, dragging his dumbfounded passenger up to the highest point of Venture Tower. LaCroix huddled under his desk, arms around his knees, trying to control his trembling body. It's all right, he told himself firmly. It's all right. Melech will take care of her on the roof, and we'll let the morning sun dispose of the corpse. And – and we'll come up with an appropriate story for the masses later. An – an advertising gimmick gone wrong. A Batman cosplayer gone mad. Some sort of – of mass hallucination from swamp gas carried on the wind. We'll make it right. We'll find the key. And I will never have to worry about any of this ever again.

. . .God, I hope he wins that fight.

#londerland bloodlines #fanfic #'Melech' is the Sheriff for those not in the know #the guy doesn't have a name in canon but #well he's LaCroix's personal guard #surely his EMPLOYER would know his name #not to mention it felt weird just constantly calling him 'The Sheriff' #as our best guess at his clan is Nagloper #a Tzimisce variant from Africa #I looked up likely African names for him #melech is short for abdimelech #which according to the site I used means 'servant to kings' #seemed appropriate #basically this is just me having fun with Sebastian being such a pompous ass #and then giving up all attempts at dignity the minute Alice startles him XD #what can I say I am amused :p #also Alice couldn't get away with skipping the ENTIRE Sheriff boss fight #gotta pay your dues like the rest of us girl #at least she managed to avoid all the bullshit before it #queued

[theweekinarrowfic]

Completed Arrow Multichapters on AO3, May 12-25, 2019

NOTE:  I’m now crossposting to https://theweekinarrowfic.dreamwidth.org/

Need more Arrow in your life?  Why not try one of the multchapter fanfics recently completed by our talented fic writers? (Two-week post because I was traveling for a job interview last weekend!)

Olicity

Star Stuff by imfallingforyoureyes102 (2/2, 25 May 2019 ) - “The nitrogen in our DNA,” Felicity pauses, her eyes turned to the ceiling as if in thought, “the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood,” Oliver’s turns away from the window to face her, “The carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of star stuff. You are made of star stuff." Felicity’s face is wide open, just like she has always been with him, and for a second Oliver thinks – no, he believes, without a doubt, that if he is made of stars, Felicity is the sun. (Or, Walter Steele doesn't really know what to think of his stepson's budding relationship with his executive assistant - he doesn't want to think about what it means. But then he happens upon Oliver on the verge of falling into the darkest corners of his mind and watches as Felicity slowly and surely pulls him back to the light.) Part 5 of On the Outside Looking In

Oliver the //pseudo// Artist by Vixx2pointOh (6/6, 22 May 2019) - Despite Oliver's intentions to recreate the habitat of a sloth, his 13yo sister had somehow convinced him to drive her in the middle of the day to what seemed like a deserted high school.He ends up in an art class, where he gets more than he bargained for. Part 11 of Oliver The ...

Tu n'es plus seul by Amelia_Queen (8/8, 22 May 2019) - Depuis son retour de l’île, Oliver a trouvé une très mauvaise solution pour gérer ses émotions. C’est un secret de plus que sa famille ne doit surtout pas découvrir.

A Shot in the Dark by OliversMuse (3/3, 21 May 2019) - Part of the Silent Killer's series. Oliver and Felicity try to solve the case of a mother that was shot in her car on the way to work. Part 3 of Silent Killers

The Microchip Chronicles by CSM (10/10, 20 May 2019) - Post 713. Follows the next nine months of Felicity’s pregnancy.

What was my daddy like? by melicitysmoak (8/8, 16 May 2019) - [Future Spec Fic, takes off from the Season 7 flashforwards, canon until 7x16 only]Mia Smoak grows up without ever knowing her father, Oliver Queen, also known as the Green Arrow. She loves her mother, Felicity Smoak, and secretly admires her, but their relationship is rocky. They get separated like before, but this time Mia is afraid that her mom is in real danger, so she sets off to find her. In an unexpected turn of events, she meets her half-brother William and his companions, who are also trying to unravel the mystery of Felicity's apparent demise and why the genius wife of the former Green Arrow brought them all together after almost two decades. Mia has been isolated for most of her young life, but the few relationships she makes helps her put together the puzzle pieces of what her father was like. It's up to her to decide what to make of it all.

The last time they're together by CaptainSammyAngel (2/2, 13 May 2019) - Oliver and Felicity are on borrowed time... the time to honor the deal with the monitor has come and this is how they spend their last night together. Part 4 of Mia's journey

Felicity Takes a Holiday by BstnStrg13 (25/25, 12 May 2019) -  Frustrated by Oliver's apparent indifference, Felicity takes a solo trip to NYC where she meets with unexpected dangers. Is it super-soldiers amped up on Mirakuru, or Beasts created by Muirfield? Starts at the end of Season 2; a story of how Oliver comes to realize that he is in love with Felicity, told with help from CW's Beauty and the Beast and a whole lot of Diggle.

Other Ships/Characters

Starting Something by justafandomfollower (team-centric, 13/13, 23 May 2019) - Oliver Queen returns to Star City with the intent to right his father’s wrongs and stop the poison that has infiltrated his city. He doesn’t need to deal with Superman getting upset about his methods and he doesn’t expect the allies he makes along the way. Part 1 of The Justice League

The Canary's Legacy by Bl4ckHunter (8/8, 22 May 2019) -  Sara gets thrown into an alternate future as she copes with unsettling truth.

unexpectations by brandywine421 (Matt Murdock/Oliver, 2/2, 21 May 2019) - "Do I have to?" Matt asked, dragging his feet behind Foggy and Theo and their mom. Five years in, he should consider Anna his mom, but that would mean he had to consider Ed his dad and he already had a dad. "We paid for your PSATs so you have to suffer the consequences of your grade," Anna replied, entirely too cheerily. He didn't think that was totally fair but the mandatory soul-bond test for college applicants wasn't fair either. Apparently his grade meant he was going to go to college, but still - today sucked. "Aren't you excited to meet yours? I'm totally stoked to meet mine," Foggy beamed - Matt knew what 'beaming' sounded like, Foggy had been his best friend longer than he'd been his brother. Matt would never beam. *AU for everything ever. Matt & Oliver are reluctant soulmates - at first.

Karry Universe: Hunt for the Totems by KarryBeta; KarryMaster (Barry Allen/Kara Danvers, side pairing Alex Danvers/Sara, 16/16, 19 May 2019) - With someone after the totems its up to the Justice League to find them and to find the people destined to wear them. Part 9 of Karry Universe

Nightmare by molmcmahon (Harry Potter/Oliver, 6/6, 18 May 2019) - 5 Times Someone Finds Out about Harry and Oliver and 1 Time Someone Already Knew. Part 2 of Devil's Verse

Dear Friend, by Ray_Writes (Laurel/Oliver, 9/9, 16 May 2019) - When Felicity decides to get serious about Ray, she knows it won’t be a good idea for Oliver to be hanging around. So she turns to the world of online dating to keep him distracted. Unknown to the both of them, over the summer Joanna had set Laurel up with an online dating account in the hopes that her friend could move on from past failed relationships. There’s only one way this can end.

Secrets, Lies and Superheroes by laxit21 (Bucky Barnes/Felicity, 90/90, 12 May 2019) - Being a vigilante (or on the team of one) is complicated enough. When Oliver, Felicity and Diggle rescue Lyla from a Russian gulag, Felicity’s life gets even more complicated. Months later, after the fall of SHIELD, one of those complications comes knocking on her door. You can find me on Tumblr at: laxit21.tumblr.com

Selling Your Reason (Will Not Bring You Through) by backinthebox (Nyssa/Sara, 4/4, 12 May 2019) - "I heard you disbanded the League." "My father's League had been tainted, so yes." Nyssa allowed, even if she held back the question of who had informed Sara, since information on her well-being was apparently not among the things Oliver Queen and his ilk were sharing with Sara. Instead she returned, "I heard you've been busy saving the world." Part 2 of Holy Water Cannot Help You Now

High School and Heroes by violetwolfraven (Dinah Drake/Laurel, 2/2, 12 May 2019) - In a High School AU, Dinah Drake develops a crush on the new nerdy girl, Laurel. Navigating their friends’ disfunctional romances and school life in general, there is a lot of drama.

#arrow #Olicity

[kisstheprincessofpurewhite]

After My Father’s Funeral Chapter 4

Summary: Funerals can be stressful, but so can weddings–especially with a family as effed up as theirs. Unfortunately for Leia, she has both to attend in one go. So much for repression. Modern AU 

Pairings: Leia/Han, Mara/Luke, Jyn/Cassian, Leia&Han&Luke&Mara&Cassian&Jyn, Uncle Owen/Aunt Beru

Chapter summary: You could even call it a date if you actually cared about that kind of thing. Not that either of them did.

Chapter Pairings: Han/Leia, Han&Lando, Jyn/Cassian, Mara/Luke, guest appearance of Shara/Kes

A/N: Favorite chapter, I guess. Based on personal experience, I guess. Please see Ao3 and FFN versions for full author’s notes.

After taking one of her "for emergency only" migraine pills, plenty of water and caffeine, and getting a good night's sleep, Leia made it to the location Han had specified. She wasn't sure what she was expecting. Maybe an early morning race or some convoluted scheme to get into her pants? And if it was either of those, why she was even going? The location was even more puzzling, the Old Temple on the far side of town. It was too quiet for there to be a race going on, but there were too many people there for this to be some plan of Han's to get her alone. Or maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit. There were two signs: one indicating regular parking and the other for show parking. She guess "regular" was what she was looking for, following the sign and parking in a dirt lot behind the main building. It wasn't until she saw the rows of cars sitting in the field with people milling around that she realized what she was at: a car show.

She hadn't been to one in years, since before her parents had died. There were mostly hot rods but there were some racers there as well. She didn't anticipate meeting Han until she got to the racing cars, and so took her time. Leia preferred the hot rods, something Bail had shown her appreciation for. She looked over every one of them, taking her time. Her favorite of the ones so far was the white X-Wing Classic from 1958. She took a picture for Luke, and kept on moving. It was a chillier morning and she had opted to wear a white jacket over her outfit.

Some people she'd grown up with were there, such as the Damerons, Kes and Shara, who were showing off the old '72 firetruck. She had seen them at the party, but hadn't gotten the chance to say hello. They gushed about their newborn son, showed her pictures, and promised to be at the wedding. Leia was glad to have seen them both. Jyn and Cassian were there as well, showing off some of the old cars Mr. Andor had collected.

"What're you doing here?" Jyn asked as they embraced. "Are Luke and Mara with you?"

"No, I'm flying solo today, if you pardon the pun. I promised Han, actually."

Jyn looked very surprised, as did Cassian.

"Just how drunk did you get last night?" He asked, looking concerned.

"It was more migraine related," Leia concede.

"And you're sure you got home alright last night?" Jyn clarified.

"If I didn't, why would I have come?" She eyed both of them. "You know, for someone Mara claims to be 'not that bad,' none of you really seem to trust him."

"He isn't that bad," Jyn said. "He's just-"

"Not as reliable as he could be," Cassian finished.

"Hope you aren't referring to me." The three turned to see Han Solo with his trademark smirk. He nodded to Leia. "So glad you could come, princess. If you follow me, this way to the Falcon."

"I think I'll make my way over there, thanks." Leia turned to get a better look at the cars Cassian was showing.

Han cleared his throat. "Fine, fine, you do what you want. Just, how is an—pardon the expression—amateur going to be able to tell when you get there?"

Leia smirked. "I'll just check for signs of entry around the tailpipe." She walked away from him, moving to the next cars. The owners seemed nice, and offered Leia some coffee.

"I thought you didn't care about this stuff," Han said, towering over her. "You're the one who compared it to a cult." That last part he said fairly quietly so as not to startle anyone.

"I never said I didn't care about cars. It's racing and the drivers I could care less for." She sipped her coffee and moved to the next car.

He followed her. "What, do you like this one?" He said, gesturing to the '84 LN Leia was currently admiring.

She nodded. "Your jealousy is misplaced by following me. I think you should be more concerned some prick's ass-cheek touching your girlfriend's precious hood." She moved on, he followed.

"Jealous? I never said I was jealous." His tone was semi-indignant, but also not entirely serious.

"You didn't have to, its written all over you face." By then they had reached the racing cars and Leia asked to see the Falcon.

"So now when you get to the good part, you wanna skip ahead?" Han clarified, crossing his arms over his chest. He was wearing the brown suede jacket he had been wearing to Jyn and Cassian's party, along with blue pants and black shoes.

She settled her hands on her hips. "If by 'good part' you mean: utterly uninteresting, then yes. Lead on."

He didn't move, but his face changed, narrowing his eyes and setting his jaw. "You know, I liked you better with a headache."

"Yeah, I bet women get them frequently around you."

Han shook his head and lead her to the far row. He gestured to the rest of the cars, and pointed out the flaws of them. Leia wasn't paying attention, only looking ahead to where it looked like he was taking her. There was a man sitting on the hood of an old, beautiful blue and white car. The sight of which seemed to make Han stop in his tracks.

"Sonuva-" he cried. "Calrissian!" He jogged forward and the man stood up straight.

He smiled at Han, and Leia admitted to herself that he looked much more charming than Han did, who's smirk erred on the side of roguish. This man was pure class and charm, and Leia didn't trust him one bit.

"We had a deal, Lando," Han said. "The Falcon is mine fair and square."

"It may be yours as in your possession, but I still don't know about 'fair and square,'" the other man, Lando, said. "I mean, do you really need three cars, Solo?"

"Three?" Leia said, incredulously catching up to Han.

Lando looked at her, and he really looked. Up and down, slowly. She half expected him to check her teeth and ask her to spin around. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him. "Well, hello, you must be Luke's sister, Leia." His voice was a lot more provocative than it had been towards Han. She wondered how he was able to recognize her, but she chalked it up to family resemblance.

"Shove it, Lando. He has at least 10 cars, Leia," Han said, also scowling.

Lando extended his hand and Leia shook it, reluctantly. "I've heard so much about you."

"As I have you," Leia said. "Han tells me you're selling a Tantive IV."

His eyebrows raised in surprise and he smiled. "As a matter of fact I am, you interested?"

"No, I don't need a car." She tried to use her lawyer voice, firm and unquestioning.

"Everyone needs a car, honey. And maybe not the Tantive, it is a little big. But I've got-"

"She said she doesn't want anything," Han said, pretty aggressively.

"Really, Mr. Calrissian-" Leia began

"Lando, please baby," he corrected

"Lando then, I don't need anything, I'm fine, forget I mentioned it." He shrugged and moved on down the line. It was then that Leia noticed something moving at her feet and she looked down to see one of the biggest, shaggiest dogs she had ever seen sniffing shoe. "Well hello there, who are you?" She asked it, scratching the dog behind his ears.

"That's Chewbacca, Chewie, he's my dog," Han said. "And he's supposed to be guarding the Falcons."

"He's doing a great job!" Leia insisted, scratching the dog's back and whispering to him to not listen to Han.

Han rolled his eyes and kept an eye on everyone who might come near his cars.

"So Falcons? Plural." Chewie laid back on the grass on his back and she rubbed his belly.

"Yeah."

"Yesterday, it was singular." Leia looked up from the dog to see Han looking at her. She stood up straight and looked over the two cars in front of her. One was clearly much older—hotrod territory—while the other was very modern, but they looked to be the same size, shape, color, and state of wear to Leia.

Han pointed to the older one. "This one is the '63, that I recently…ahem, acquired from Calrissian in a game of cards-"

Her jaw dropped incredulously. "You bet with you cars? Are you stupid?"

"He's the one who bet his car."

She narrowed her eyes. "Something tells me you're not telling me everything. That you wanted him to, didn't you?"

Han balked a little. "That's not important. This one," he pointed to the newer one. "Is the 2010 Falcon Millennium Edition. Same style, same everything, all new technology."

She nodded, looking up and down the newer car. "May I ask why the Falcon?"

"There was an old Falcon plant in Corellia where I grew up. My dad worked there, so did my grandpa. Hell, one of them might've even made this car." His hands were on his hips, and he seemed to not care about telling her pretty private information about his childhood. Or, at least, Leia took it that way.

"Is that why you left? To get away from the factory?" She tried to sound more serious, curious, and thoughtful. She looked at him when she asked.

He didn't look back at her, setting his jaw. "The factory closed when I was 10. I left because my dad skipped town, my ma passed on, and the Damerons were the foster family I was placed with."

Leia was shocked, she'd had no idea. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, its alright, we're even now. You're not the only person to ever shed a tear, and don't forget that."

She nodded, allowing a pause in the conversation. She looked back to the cars. "How old were you?"

Han shook his head. "Hell, 15? 16? Geez, maybe even 14."

She generally hated when other people talked too much about their lives and the rough parts about them—a standard she held herself to, only revealing personal information when absolutely necessary. But Han's admission was different. It felt as though he was appealing himself to her, and she wanted to let him know she appreciated it. So when she said: "That's about how old I was when Skywalker came into my life," she told herself that it was tit for tat.

"Yeah, that big case, I heard about that. Never understood all the details, though." Leia wasn't sure if that was a hint, but she kept silent. She'd allowed one admittance of trauma slip through the crack in the wall, but she was just as quick to seal it up.

Han pointed at the cars. "Pick one," he told her.

"Huh?" She asked, a little shocked at the subject change.

"Pick one of the Falcons."

She shrugged and pointed to the '63. He seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment before clearing his throat. "When- when are you heading back to the big city?"

Leia did a check in her head. "Two weeks from tomorrow."

Han made a noise. "Plenty of time."

"Plenty of time to do what?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Take you for a ride in the '63." Han talked some about the other race cars, but was interrupted by Leia's phone ringing. It was Luke.

"Leia? Where are you? Aunt Beru is worried sick!" He said. "As am I? Did Han actually take you home last night? If he didn't, I swear-"

She had turned away from Han to talk to Luke. "He did. I'm at the car show behind the Old Temple," Leia said, trying to calm her brother down. "Jyn and Cassian are here too, and Han. You should take Mara up here, it's great, they've got an old X-wing like Uncle Owen's dad had."

Luke was silent for a moment. "Who are you and what have you done with Leia?"

"What's your problem?"

"You're at a car show, the same one your ex-boyfriend and man you were fighting with not 24 hours ago are at. Are you sure you made it home last night?"

"Yes, I'm sure. And you gotta let the past go, Luke. Geez." She felt no shame in throwing her twin's words in his face.

He was silent for a second, probably in rage. "I could kill you right now. Seriously, why are you there?"

"I dunno, Han promised to show me the Falcons, plus what else am I going to do? I'm not a child."

"I never said you were, just-"

"What Luke?" She was trying not to raise her voice, trying not to start an argument. But Luke could be such a loose canon.

"This is out of character for you, is all I'm saying."

"Blame Mara, she's the one who told me to be nice."

"That's out of character for Mara as well."

Leia chuckled. Luke said he might come over and Leia passed that on to Han.

"He's wondering why you came," Han said, and Leia nodded.

"I'm not sure why I did myself, to be honest."

He leaned against the hood of the Millennium. "I'm telling you, its the allure of the Falcon, you just couldn't stay away when you knew it was going to be here."

Leia eyed him and the two cars. "No, that's not it," she said with a smirk.

"Excuse me young man, miss," an older man interjected, causing them to turn towards him. "Sorry for interrupting, is that a '63 Falcon."

Leia groaned and Han smiled, leaning against the hood of the Millennium. "You have a good eye and impeccable taste sir, indeed it is a '63, and this is the 2010 Millennium Edition."

Leia walked away before the circle-jerk fest could really get underway, and she made her way over to the motorcycles. Lando followed her and offered to get her one of her own, which she politely decline and not so politely told him to get lost. He seemed impressed at her attitude, but she tried to ignore him. She ran into a friend from college, Enfys Nest, whose mother taught a self-defense classes Leia had taken. They caught up a bit before Han caught up with her again. She was surprised he hadn't just let her go, having already completed his goal of showing her his cars. He greeted Enfys as if he knew her, and Leia raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know each other?" She asked

"I get around, sweetheart." Han had set his hands on his hips and smirked at her.

"He's being modest. Han has helped us out many times, from helping finding goods to be donated to even just letting us stay at his place. We owe him a lot." She knew Enfys was telling the impartial truth because that's who Enfys was. She would only lie by omission, never overtly.

He shrugged. "Should keep you around more often to sing my praises, seeing as my looks are good enough for some people." His comment was so obviously directed at Leia, but she ignored it.

The lunch table was about to open and Leia said goodbye to Enfys to get in line. Han followed her, and Leia commented on him leaving the Falcons alone.

"Chewie can handle it." She scoffed, but couldn't do much to stop him from following her. Or, at least, she told herself there wasn't much he could do.

They got their lunch provided by the volunteers which consisted of a slightly burnt hotdog with macaroni salad and potato chips. Han was nice of enough to pay for both of theirs, saying something about she shouldn't have to pay because he invited her. Leia took it as insurance that she would eat with him. She followed him back to the Falcons, where he pulled two folding chairs out and set them up.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say this was a date," Leia said as she sat down.

Han paused for a moment before sitting down. "Well, what does that mean? Who's saying its not?"

Leia shrugged. "Well, no one is saying it is either. Besides, I didn't think I was your type."

"Oh, and what is my type, princess?"

"I dunno, 'easy' is the impression I've gotten."

Han scoffed. "Well, if this were a date, you'd be insulting yourself, sister. Lucky for you, I have better things to do."

Leia laughed a little, hurt somewhat. "Well, then I guess I'll leave, let whomever you have better to take this seat." She got up to leave, calling his bluff.

"That's a fine way to repay me for lunch." His tone was pure sarcasm, and she took it as him calling hers.

She turned back to him. "Do you want me to stay?"

Han shrugged. "You can do whatever you want."

"I want to sit with you for lunch, if you'll have me."

He shrugged again. "I already set up the chair for you."

"What about all the other women clamoring for your time?"

"Well, I guess they'll have to get over it at least for this meal." That was the closest she was going to get to him admitting he wanted her to stay, so she took it.

She took her coat off and laid it over the chair before sitting back down, smirking. They were silent as they ate, glancing at each other out of the corner's of their eyes. They discussed their jobs. Han spoke about his winnings and sponsorships. Leia told him about her job and all the paperwork she had to do.

"See, that's where you went wrong, princess," he said, slouching in his chair.

"What, with the paperwork?"

"Sitting in an office, taking a lunch break." He said them flippantly, as if they were crimes to her soul and not parts of her routine. The same routine that ensured she would wake up the next day.

"As opposed to what? You?" What did Han do on a daily basis? Wake up at noon, work on his car? To Leia, this supposed life seemed shiftless and devoid of meaning.

"I'm free, sister." His smile wasn't the self-righteous one he always wore, but the one of a man who'd found his calling in life.

Leia scoffed. "Call me back when you're 50."

"It's a date." That smile (the smile) was back and Leia felt her face turn hot.

They were soon joined by Luke and Mara. Luke was in awe of the '63 and begged Han to let him drive it after the wedding.

"Forget it, kid. You're lucky I'm letting you get this close." He accepted Leia's empty paper plate from her hand—even though she hadn't offered it to him—stacking it on his own.

"I'd wouldn't want to get in that thing anyway." Mara stared at the car, shaking her head. "Looks like a death trap."

Leia bit back a laugh as Han sat forward. "Well you're definitely not getting in it, sister."

"Leia, don't you agree. It looks like the door would fall off and crush you just trying to get in."

"Don't bring me into this, Mara." Leia tried not to make eye contact with her, preferring to look at her chair.

"Figures you would side with him, you two have been thick as thieves since we got to Jabba's."

"Well, you two are over there, coupling—pardon the term—and what am I going to do? Milk the horses for Uncle Owen?" Leia shrugged. "This is my vacation, and I've always liked car shows. Mom and Dad used to take me all the time. Nearly every weekend for one year, I think."

Mara was intrigued, asking about what they did, what they saw. Leia spoke in length about the different cars and models and shows. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she was hurting anyone. Whenever she referred to the Organas as her parents, she almost always felt as though she were alienating Luke, or Skywalker. And what with the latter's death so recent, the pain and bitterness of the last ten years had come back to her. That day, that moment, she felt at home, for the first time in a long time. She felt like she was surrounded by people who cared about her, almost like a family.

Around 5, everyone started to pack up and go home, but the group wasn't ready to call it a night. They resolved to go to Mara and Luke's house, and invited Cassian and Jyn whenever they were done packing up for the night.

"Need a ride?" Han asked, leaning on the '63 in what he probably thought was an inviting manner.

Leia laughed. "I've got my car here, thanks though. I'll see you there." She scratched her head awkwardly and looked down. "Thanks for inviting me to this, I had a lot of fun today. More fun than I've had in a while."

"Don't mention it, sweetheart. Anytime." He turned to get into the '63.

"Don't think you're getting off easy, you still promised me that ride." Leia reminded him.

He looked over his shoulder. His smirk was back. "Yes, ma'am."

#Han Solo #leia organa #han x leia #leia skywalker #leia #han #sw #star wars #star wars: original triology #star wars modern au #star wars au #modern au #au #fic #my fic #after my father's funeral #original trio

[ageeksnerdyworld]

Death After Death

Characters: Jason Todd, Roy Harper, Oliver Queen

Word Count: 4,800

Trigger Warning: Ghosts. Haunting. Ghost Possession. Drugs. Heroin. Drug Use. Heroin Use. Needles. Withdrawal Symptoms. Description of Heroin High. Death. Swearing.

A/N: Parts--X X X Third installment of my Ghost!Jason AU. Kinda don’t like the end of this. I feel like it’s too rushed. But whatever. Ollie doesn’t make an actual appearance but I felt like I needed to put him there... Title is meh. They’re not my strong suit. Also kinda annoyed now that I made Jason's eyes green in the first one but back then I didn't plan on having Roy in this so... And to anybody who looked forward to this I’m sorry it took so long.

Summary: Jason Todd leaves Gotham City with the intent to start his after-life somewhere else. Hopping on a bus he just wants to leave as soon as possible. Meanwhile Roy Harper wanders through the streets of Star City. Suffering through withdrawal symptoms he’s desperate for a hit. Click that read more if you want to...

XXXXX

He walked day and night non-stop; letting his feet carry him further and further away from Wayne Manor. Further away from the past that flowed through the city’s lit streets and darkened alleyways. He didn’t have a specific place in mind when he began walking; and neither did he when he took the first available Greyhound out of town. He just wanted to leave and get as far away as possible.

He never once paid attention to where the bus was headed.

Normally, traveling by car and going the fastest way, the journey would take about five hours and four minutes. By bus it would take five and a half hours with no traffic. But if traffic was horrific it would take around seven or eight hours. And that was only if you were travelling by car; which he was. Well, he was for a short while. He snuck onto the bus, through the rear entrance, walked through the door and sat in the last seat in the back.

He was on the bus for not even five minutes before things started to go downhill.

Jason sat in the back in the hope that he wouldn’t be noticed by any people or pets. In the weeks immediately following his ghostly resurrection he had come to realize the age-old myth that animals could sense the dead was completely true. As he walked through the streets of Gotham, after the semi-successful séance, a large black male Doberman saw him. The dog began to bark at him, which startled Jason but, the animal didn’t stop there. It actually broke free of the grip its owner had on the chain leash and bolted after him.

During those first few weeks he had also kept on accidently possessing the living. His first victim was none other than Dick Grayson; the first Boy Wonder. Jason bumped into the man and the next thing he knew he was controlling the man’s words and movements. After he had left Wayne Manor he walked alone with nowhere to go and no purpose in mind. So he wandered far into the heart of the city and floated in between the people who dared to walk the streets at night.

At first everything was going rather smoothly.

No animals tried to attack him unlike during his long walk from his grave to Wayne Manor. He didn’t walk through any unsuspecting passersby or make any babies cry. Jason just walked around and listened to the everyday conversations of the random people. A group of friends excitedly talked about the movie they saw. A young couple walked arm in arm with happy smiles on their faces. He bumped in to the younger looking man and tried so hard to get back out that it made the possessed man have a seizure. The man almost died.

And so he learned his lesson and did his best to keep his distance from the living.

Jason tried. He really did. Sitting in the back of the bus he was completely alone. He thought that it would be fine and he could ride the bus. But then the driver began to notice that the vehicle began to malfunction. He turned to the passengers with a sad look on his face and told them all the bad news. It didn’t look good, the driver told them, something was wrong and he had to call somebody. Jason knew that the malfunction had something to do with his presence so he got up and walked out of the bus. And he didn’t stop.

Jason Todd allowed his feet to carry him all the way to Star City.

XXXXX

Roy Harper, teenage-sidekick and adoptive son of Green Arrow, was having a very bad night. In recent weeks he was having one bad night after another. A good day hadn’t crossed paths with the eighteen-year-old in a very long time. Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow, had recently discovered Roy’s deepest and darkest secret. But instead of helping his son get clean the billionaire superhero kicked the boy out of the only home he had ever known.

And now he drifted through the streets of Star City having the worst night of his life.

The young man’s hair had grown longer than it had ever been in the few weeks he had been out on his own. In recent days it had become oily from lack of a good shampooing; or any for that matter. Slight stubble of a ginger beard had begun to grow as well-- he couldn’t grow a full one if he wanted to-- as if he needed to add onto the hobo vagrant look. Roy’s outfit consisted of an old pair of dark blue jeans, stylishly ripped at the knee like every other aspiring punk, a black t-shirt that had grown too large for his thinning frame and a dark olive green, very thin, army jacket. They were the only clothes that his adoptive father allowed him to take with him and the entire outfit was already dirty, tattered, and stained.

I’m fitting the hobo-drug-addict stereotype to a T aren’t I?

He had sold most of his belongings a long time ago, back when Ollie first threw him out, because Roy didn’t have a dollar to his name. But he kept his bow, some arrows, and his costume; among a few other things.

Originally he used that money to get a bite to eat and a place to stay for the night. When that bit of money ran out he began stealing whatever electronics that were small enough, and easy enough to carry, and selling those. Sometimes he bought food, and he even bought a blanket once, but mostly?

He bought smack and fed his addiction.

But tonight he was flat broke and completely out of heroin. He was alone, hungry, cold, helpless and afraid, but none of that really fazed him. The only thing on the teen’s mind was getting his next fix. Roy couldn’t handle the shaking, the high fever, and the bouts of vomiting that increased with each off day. Getting high would make him forget about everything and he really wanted to shoot up. No, he didn’t want another shot, that wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted his last.

He needed it to be his last.

And no-one is going to stop me.

His withdrawal symptoms were worsening and he began to have severe muscle spasms. Wrapping his thin sad excuse for a jacket around his chest he tries his best to hide it. Knowing that he was close to having a seizure, having had suffered through one from withdrawal once before, Roy quickens his pace to a half-jog. Finally he finds the place he was looking for; Peter’s Pilfered Pawns. The small, dirty and dingy corner shop is the only place where he could sell what he wanted without any questions asked.

Roy pushes the glass door open with a shaking hand. He had been inside the pawn shop only once before. And it was during an armed robbery that he and Ollie came to stop. So you couldn’t actually say that he ever shopped around or anything like that. Tonight was, if everything went as planned, going to be the very first, and very last time, he sold anything here.

Re-adjusting the bag on his shoulder he walks up to the counter that sits at back of the store.

Once at the counter he takes the large bag off his shoulder and carefully sets it on the counter. His right hand begins to shake uncontrollably as he takes his water bottle out of his bag. Hoping the man didn’t see it he shoves his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Smiling kindly to the tall, beefy, bearded man who stood behind the counter Roy asked the man if he could get at least two-hundred dollars for what he was selling.

“Depends on what you’re wanting to sell me, kid,” he said with a scoff.

He gives the man a playful smirk and reaches into his bag with shaking hands. Feeling the man’s eyes on him he quickly stops.

“Get all kinds in here, kid. I don’t judge nobody.”

Roy nods and goes back to taking the items out of his bag. Once the bow, quiver, and arrows all lay on the counter he shoots the man a look; Well what do you think? He lets the man behind the counter touch the bow, his bow, with wide eyes. The man picks the bow up in a way that makes Roy cringe and almost makes him want to take it back and leave the shop. Almost.

“Laminated wood composite. Kevlar string. 80 pound draw weight. Made it myself. Arrows too.”

The man continues to inspect Roy’s items but the teenager could tell that the man knew nothing about archery. So he knew absolutely nothing about how price this kind of stuff. He didn’t know that the leather-lined interior, Kevlar-exterior, custom made quiver would go for six-hundred easy with the right buyer. In fact with the right buyer, and in the right place, he was looking at an easy three thou for the whole lot.

“I’ll give you six,” he says as he lays the bow back on the counter. “Hundred.”

“For just the bow or…” Roy starts to ask but the man cuts him off with a hand.

“For the entire thing.”

“Ok, I get it you don’t know the first thing about archery, but, trust me I can get at least three thousand for all this somewhere else.”

“Why don’t you go somewhere else then, kid?” the man says as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Look, I really need everything penny I can get out these, okay? Let’s come to a compromise. You give me two thou and I throw in the bag for free. It’s leather-interior, Kevlar-exterior; just like the quiver. Worth a shitload.”

As he spoke Roy laid his hand on the table, propping himself up to keep standing for just a little while longer, and his arms started to shake. The man behind the counter obviously notices. He stares at Roy’s shaking left arm and then looks at the teen’s face. He smiles a wide smile; all teeth. Leaning across the counter he whispers to Roy.

“Looks to me like you need whatever you can get, kid. Pretty sure I’d see some nice track marks if I rolled that sleeve of yours. But like I said; I don’t judge nobody. Even then I think it would be better if you took what I offered.”

Roy bows his head, his long ginger hair falling in front of his face, and sighs.

The man slides a small stack of crisp, new, green hundred dollar bills over the glass counter. He smiles as the teen swipes the cash and shoves it into his back pocket. Roy walks through the pawn shop, to the exit, as the man calls after him; thanking him for his business. And for his really good advice on pricing for the archery gear. Roy doesn’t respond as he pushes the door open and walks out.

XXXXX

He didn’t have to go far to find a dealer.

A few good things hide in the city’s darkness sometimes.

Walking about a block, maybe two, down the street going eastward walking in the opposite direction from the way he came he found exactly what he needed.

A man stood at the corner between a crappy apartment building and an alleyway. He looked to be in his mid twenties and wore a pair of black skinny jeans with a thin chain at the side. Shirt’s the same black but his thick, faux fur lined, hoodie is a dark, blood-like, red. His skin’s pale and his hair is dark brown and his eyes match them. The look in his eyes and the scowl on his face give the man a mean stare.

“Whaddya need, kid?”

Why does everyone call me kid? I’m not a fucking kid!

“As much white china I can get with this,” he says pulling the stack of bills from his pocket.

“Where didja get that kinda cash, kid?”

“None of your damn business. Just give me what I asked for.”

The dealer laughs heartily; titling his head back. His face oddly lights up with laughter. On someone like this man the whole things looks out of place and completely wrong. Sighing deeply, as his laughter dies out; the man wipes a small tear from his eye. Eyes that line up perfectly with Roy’s he looks at the pale, freckled, face of the teen.

“You got some sass, kid.”

Stop calling me kid, you fucker.

The exchange was as quick as possible. But as Roy left the dealer tried to get recruit him into his little operation. Said that he could definitely use a kid like him. Roy promptly gave the man the finger; obviously declining his bullshit offer.

There was nowhere else to go and he needed to get high so he ducked into the nearby alleyway. Looking over his shoulder he made sure that no hobos, or ladies and men of the night, were in the immediate vicinity. Letting out a sigh of relief Roy sat down on the ground near the end of the alleyway. Digging his hand into the front pockets of his jeans he pulled out the tools that he needed with shaking hands. It took him a few extra seconds than normal but soon he produced a metal spoon, which he stole from a hotel a couple weeks ago, one of those long party balloons, a small clean cotton ball, and a syringe. Lastly he took out his lucky lighter. It was small, square, made of a silver metal and had the word Poison painted in a bright green, on both sides, and a skull underneath; in that same green color.

Once those were laid out in front of him he reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out the small bag of the purest china white his money could buy.

The thing that made Roy the angriest about Oliver finding out wasn’t that his adoptive father hit him in his anger. It wasn’t that he berated Roy for a good hour; screaming at the top of his lungs. It wasn’t that Roy was disowned by the man who was supposed to love and care for him no matter what he did. It wasn’t even that Ollie kicked him out of the house and said he never wanted to see him again. No; it was none of those things.

You’re not a hero; you’re not even a sidekick. You’re nothing but a junkie.

Those words hurt Roy more than anything. They stung more than the physical pain of Oliver’s fist against his face. Ached more than any of the withdrawal symptoms. It hurt more than the guilt that rushed over him after each comedown. Nothing in the world would ever hurt more than his father, a man he looked up to for so long and wanted to be like so much, saying those words. And the worst part?

They haunted him in every waking moment and haunted him in his sleep.

And of course the words ran through his head every time he prepared a shot.

Running out of veins to shoot up, the track marks that ran up and down his arms prove that many of his veins had fell victim to his addiction, Roy had to settle for one in his left thigh. He stands up and removes his thin belt before unzipping his jeans. Dropping his jeans he sits back down on the freezing concrete with his pants around his ankles. He palms the lighter tightly; only needing it because his water isn’t very clean. Normally he would just mix the powder with a bit of the water, put in the filter, fill the syringe, and shoot up. But tonight he mixes it with the plunger of the syringe and then heats the back of the metal spoon with the small orange flame from his lighter. Roy plops the small cotton ball in the spoon; to act as a filter. Then he picks up the syringe and fills it as much as he could with what was in his spoon; he didn’t care to measure anything. The 10ml syringe fills about half way and he decides to cook up a little bit more. He ends up filling the syringe all the way. After he fills the syringe, he sets it aside to cool; his teeth shake with the cold of his fever as he wraps the balloon around the meat of his thigh. Biting down on the end of the belt, his long ginger hair covering his face as he faces the concrete, Roy pulls it tight forcing the veins to pop. With the belt between his teeth he picks up the syringe again and inserts the needle into the raised vein. As he pushes down on the plunger he opens his mouth and releases the tourniquet. He leans his head back against the cool brick of the wall behind him.

The euphoric relief rushes over him like a crashing wave.

As his high slowly grows, as the more the drug flows through his veins, his senses lessen. The loud, busy, city streets become muffled. The snippets of conversation that seep into the alley from the sidewalk didn’t even reach his ears. Roy’s thoughts slow down to almost a snail’s pace but it isn’t just his thoughts; everything slows down.

This. This is why I shoot smack.

Roy could never get Oliver to understand that; no matter how many times he tried. Ollie thought he was instantly addicted from his first hit. In truth Roy didn’t start with the needle; he started by But the addiction was slow and he didn’t get withdrawal symptoms for weeks; it snuck up on him. He just woke up junk sick one day and it took him hours to realize that he was going through withdrawal. Oliver also thought that Roy shot up because he just made the wrong choice once; thinking that the teen could just give it up because he wanted him to.

It takes away all the demons that run wild in my life. The ones that constantly run around in my head. Demons I could never run from without it. It takes them away and I finally feel in control. That’s what you never got, Ollie. I tried to tell you so many times.

XXXXX

Jason finally makes it to Star City, a day or two after he left Gotham, sometime after midnight. The sky is inky black and starless; foreboding some kind of message that he can’t even hope to understand. Unlike Gotham the city is as alive at night as it is during the day. The citizens of Star City have their fair share of villains but not a single one of them was as terrifying and vicious as Gotham’s least formidable. It was no wonder that they felt safe at night.

He flits through the people; safely keeping his distance. His ghostly hearing picks up every conversation within a small radius despite the loud, busy, night traffic. But all these noises fall on deaf ears because he’s heavily focused somewhere else. Something pulls him somewhere deeper into the heart of the city. He doesn’t know what it is but it could feel it. It feels the same as the invisible force that made him crawl out of his grave.

The boy lets himself be guided.

Arriving at an alleyway, a couple minutes later, he looks around in confusion. He doesn’t see anyone outside the alley. The inside of it is too dark for him to see unless he walks down it. But Jason wishes that he could know what he was supposed to do instead of all this guessing.

What the fuck do you want? he angrily asks the mysterious force. It says nothing in response.

He sighs and walks down the alleyway.

Stopping when he made it to the very end of the alley he sees a boy, about a year or two older than himself with long ginger hair and freckles, sitting on the ground with his pants around his ankles. His eyes quickly catch sight of the blue balloon wrapped tightly around the boy’s thigh and the needle that sticks out of a vein. Taking a mental step back from the situation he now sees the lighter, spoon and the bag of powder. Suddenly overcome with worry Jason moves to take the balloon, and the needle, off the teen’s body.

But he’s already too late.

Roy Harper didn’t die instantly. Jason was just too late to save him so that by the time he got there the boy’s pale skin was a light bluish color. The teenage addict’s death was slow and, if he was conscious enough it was, most likely painful. His senses slowed when he was high but so did his breathing and his heartbeat. He was always so far down that he just never noticed. Then his body went fully limp when his both his heartbeat and breathing stopped.

Jason watched with sad eyes as the boy’s spirit lifted out of his body.

The faded, see-through, mist-like form of the dead boy’s spirit formed directly on top of his slumped body. It looked like someone laid a thin sheet over the dead teen. But then the spirit form slowly raised itself from its host. As it detached itself from the somewhat warm body the spirit flicked off in almost every direction; like smoke from a fire. When the spirit floated a good foot above the dead body the smoking effect stopped. Then the boy’s spirit stretched out, as one does when they wake in the morning, and floated down to the ground.

Once his ghost feet touched the ground the spirit opened his eyes.

“Where am I? What’s going on? AAAAAHHHH! A ghost!” he screamed seeing Jason standing less than a foot away from him.

“Shut the fuck up, dude. You’re a ghost too.”

The ginger boy’s faded green eyes, Jason could tell that they were bright and lively once, widened in shock. Then he shook his head in disbelief and let out a laugh that matched it. But instead of stopping there the teen kept on laughing until he held in sides in pain.

“Look at yourself,” Jason says as he points to the spot where Roy’s body lay on the ground.

“My mom OD’d from heroin too,” he adds solemnly.

Roy looks down at his body. Parts of the scene before him jump out at him like brightly lit neon motel signs. The needle in his thigh is the first thing he looks at. Then he meets the glazed-over look in his fading green eyes. Staring at the tell-tale bluish color of his dead skin he bites his lip. Unable to look at his dead, life-less, body he stares at the brick wall behind it. But he can’t even look at that so he turns back to the other ghost boy and bitterly says; “You don’t overdose from heroin. You die from it.”

The other ghost nods.

“So, kid, you’re dead too. You know why we’re still here and not wherever the hell people are supposed to go?”

Jason folds his arms across his chest; “Name’s Jason. Not kid. But no I don’t.”

“Thought you’d know, seeing as how you died first, but guess not.” Roy says with a smirk.

“Thought you’d be smarter seeing as how you’re older than I am.”

Roy looks around worriedly and starts to leave the alley. Jason follows after him and asks him what’s wrong. Harper shrugs and says he just didn’t feel right staying there. Jason nods understandingly and the two fall into perfect step with one another. Walking in silence the two enjoy the sight of Star City at night. After a while Roy breaks the silence.

“Who were you before you died?”

A hand flies to cover his mouth in embarrassment. He should know that it was probably the worst thing you could ask a ghost. Especially seeing as how he just became one and he didn’t want to talk about his old life at all. He rapidly apologizes but Jason waves it off with a hand.

“Jason Todd. Robin. Well the second one, but, I still was Boy Wonder. Sidekick to the Bat and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t love every single second of it. Anything before that, I can’t remember anymore; ‘cept Mom dying that is. And I obviously shuffled off the mortal coil, but it wasn’t as normal as you’d think.”

“What does that mean?” Roy asks staring at, but also through, the ghost boy who walked next to him.

“Joker beat me close to death and left me in a building that was rigged to blow. One explosion and a couple months later here I am. Ghost Boy Wonder.”

Jason says it like it meant nothing but there was a slight edge to his voice; as if he was trying his hardest to convince himself that the manner of his death didn’t matter.

“Who were you?”

When the ghost boy, ex-Boy Wonder, looked over at Roy he froze. He didn’t want to admit, or he couldn’t, who he was. It was too embarrassing and too pitiful. And pity was the last thing he wanted right now. But Jason kept giving him this I’m waiting look and so he relented. Sighing deeply he thought of what would be the lightest way to put it. Unable to find one he gave up and opted for the cold, hard, truth.

“I was Roy Harper; Speedy. Green Arrow’s sidekick, you know? We had our ups and downs and sometimes I never understood why he adopted me. It made no sense. A bad sidekick, and an even worse son, I was just a failure.”

“Don’t ever fucking say that about yourself ever again.” Jason says sternly; interrupting.

Nodding shortly Roy continues; “I felt like a failure anyway. I had all these demons in my head telling me I was so I believed them. Then I found heroin, how exactly I don’t remember, or maybe it found me. But it chased the demons away and I was happy.”

Jason bites his lip; unsure of what to say.

Roy remains silent as well.

After a minute or two he speaks again. “I needed to chase those demons away. They would’ve fucking killed me so I had to do something. It’s not my fault that heroin was what I turned to. Oliver blamed me when he found out but it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not my damn fault.”

Jason wraps his arm around the boy’s shoulder as a tear falls from Roy’s eye. He pats Roy’s shoulder in a calming and reassuring gesture.

“I know it’s not. But hey...”

He stops and turns around so that he faces Roy. He rests his hands on both of Roy’s shoulders but then changes his position. Moving one hand so that it rests behind the boy’s neck he grips the boy’s left hand tightly. It was exactly what Bruce would do when something bad happened to him or when Jason was greatly upset. And it always worked so he decided to steal it; just for a moment. Jason stands a few inches shorter than the older boy but he makes a point to stare into the Roy’s eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if Oliver fucking Queen, biggest goddamn asshole and the literal worst father of the year, couldn’t see the good in you. Fuck him. You don't need him. You’re a good person, Roy Harper. I see it. And you need to see it too. That’s all that matters.”

Roy smiles, thanks Jason, and wipes a tear from his eye.

The two fall back into their walk; pacing quickly matching up. But then a loud boom from across the street startles them. Looking in the direction of the noise the boys see a gang of robbers rushing into the Star City National Bank. From their vantage point it looks like there’s five, maybe six, large burly men.

“Hey, Robin Hood? You wanna go stop some criminals?”

“How are we gonna do that, Jaybird?”

Ah, nicknames already, we're moving fast aren't we.

Jason gives his new friend, the newly-minted ghost boy, the kind of smile that could only hide a delicious secret. Despite the dead, gray-tinged, faded pick color of his lips the smile looked as if it belonged there. His faded eyes glinted slightly with some semblance of mischief.

“C’mon, Red. I’ll show you.”

#dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc au fanfiction #dc au fanfic #dc au fic #ghost!au #ghost!jason au #jason todd #jaybird #red hood #roy harper #roy #arsenal #red arrow #jayroy #royjay #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #tw ghosts #tw haunting #tw ghost possesion #tw possession #tw death #tw drugs #tw drug use #tw heroin #tw swearing #ageekwrites

[fanfictionlive]

Need help with some problems in my fic

I'm currently writing a fic based on "Sabrina the Teenage Witch". It's a Sabrina/Roxie fic that occurs directly after the series finale and basically does a complete 180 in terms of the direction that it was headed in.

I've written many thousands of words of this story already, based on half-remembered episodes that I viewed months earlier. I've consulted Sabrina Wikia and have even read through some episode transcripts, but I recently read more of them and realized what I've written might be incompatible with what happened on the show (this isn't an AU fic).

Issue #1: Deck-clearing. The series finale involved Sabrina's wedding to Aaron Jacobs, a character that had been introduced recently. (The storyline was poorly received for multiple reasons.) Sabrina didn't go through with the wedding and instead rode off with her old boyfriend, Harvey, who had shown up at the church. (Nice romantic ending until you realize all of Sabrina's stuff is still at her house, and Harvey, for all that know, hasn't gotten a new place since moving away and had simply been riding cross-country.) My fic has Sabrina and Harvey breaking up and Roxie eventually confessing her love for Sabrina (this is a new revelation to Roxie, building on her attachment to, and protection of, Sabrina on the show). How much should I deal with various matters like Sabrina returning her engagement ring and selling the wedding ring that (we must assume) she'd bought for Aaron?

Issue #2: Roxie allows Sabrina to read her diary in my fic. Sabrina realizes Roxie doesn't say much regarding Sabrina's engagement and then later is sad about Sabrina moving away after her wedding. On the show, Roxie pushes for Sabrina and Aaron to get together. After Sabrina announces her engagement, Roxie's excited and giddy (which is generally OOC for her as it is). Roxie doesn't seem particularly sad about Sabrina leaving except for the realization that Sabrina is basically irreplaceable as a roommate in her view (no one can live up to Sabrina in her mind). The diary entries that I wrote were meant to show Roxie felt...something...about Sabrina, even if she didn't know exactly what it was. There are little hints of that throughout season 7: the aforementioned lament at Sabrina being irreplaceable, doting on Sabrina like a mother in one episode, referring to Sabrina as "the best [perk] of all", and interrogating Aaron with "What makes you think you deserve a girl as special as Sabrina in the first place?" It's just that Roxie's on-screen behavior doesn't really show her being troubled at the thought of losing Sabrina.

Issue #3: I have the girls purchase Aaron's club from him as he prepares to leave town. They book bands (Josie and the Pussycats perform). Roxie learns bar-tending. There's a cute homage to a scene from "Coyote Ugly" (a film that was discussed earlier in the fic). Roxie's father and stepmother come to see her, and the three of them sit at the bar and yell at each other. Roxie take a dig at the cheap redneck beer that they order. There's a bit of a problem, though: I've read through the transcripts of all of Aaron's appearances, and, while he certainly works in clubs (in back-to-back episodes), they're never explicitly said to be his. I thought there was one club, but they have different names in different episodes (I'll have to check the episodes to see if they're the same set). He's explicitly a band promoter. He talks about Sixpence None the Richer playing "at the club" and about how he's "swamped". I suppose nothing in the episodes prevents him from owning a club, technically, but I kind of took it for granted that he did, in fact, own a specific club in season 7 and is happy to sell it to the girls in my fic. A solution would be to have the girls purchase the coffee shop that Sabrina's Aunt Hilda had (presumably) sold after she got married at the end of season 6. All three girls have worked there, so it would be a smoother transition than learning the ropes of running a club. Also, Roxie strikes me as more of a tea person, and she would likely suggest adding that to the menu. There's even a space in the coffee shop for bands to perform. The problems are 1) a rock band like Josie and the Pussycats would feel out of place in a coffee shop, 2) no "Coyote Ugly" homage, 3) no cute bar-tending moment with Roxie, 4) no dig at Roxie's parents' choice of beer, and 5) no subtle humor of Roxie's dad talking about getting sober while drinking beer.

submitted by /u/Tuxedo_Mark [link] [comments] from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans http://ift.tt/2fZmyjh

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