#an ironic sort of hell for someone who craves attention

[multiples-fandomswontkillme]

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

#metal family #glam metal family #ches metal family #victoria metal family #chess metal family #dee metal family #heavy metal family #metal family glam #metal family victoria #metal family dee #metalfamily #metal family heavy

[animeomegas]

Hi!!!, first, congratulations on 1000 followers!I wanted to ask you something, could you make a list of omegas that would have worse self esteem during pregnancy.if you can't don't worry, have a nice day and again congratulations.

(Hey, thank you so much for your congratulations!! Hmm, I’m sure I can make a little list~)

Warnings: Insecurities of all sorts, mentions of sex.

Insecure over appearance:

· Itachi – Itachi is worried about how skinny and sickly he is. He’s always been on the small side but pregnancy has stopped him being able to keep much food down, and so he just kept getting smaller and smaller. It’s a small insecurity at first, but he does find himself staring at his reflection and wondering if his mate finds him attractive. Itachi goes a long while without sex because of how sick he gets during pregnancy and after birth, and that feeds the insecurity that his alpha doesn’t find him attractive.

· Tamaki – He’s completely fine until he gets lost in a rabbit hole on some parenting and omega focused forums. He finds all these posts from other omegas about how their alphas don’t find them attractive anymore, and about how they’ve stopped having sex. Now, Tamaki is extremely sexually needy during his pregnancy, so he’s suddenly paralysed with fear. Has his alpha been forcing themselves this whole time? Have they just been doing it to please him without enjoying it themselves? He cries about it quite a bit until his alpha finds out and knocks a little bit of sense into him.

· Asmo – Asmo puts so much effort into his physical appearance. He’s very proud of it and he’s very reliant on his appearance to carry his self-esteem. So, a drastic change of any sort would be extremely distressing. He buys every cream and treatment imaginable to stop stretch marks, and acne etc. but things still change with his body. And because Asmo views his worth through looks, he assumes that his alpha does also. He tries to hide, to turn down sex, but of course, this alerts his alpha immediately to the fact that something is wrong. He never really gets over the insecurities while he’s still pregnant, but his alpha can minimise the effects with copious love and praise.

· Julian – He’s extremely insecure as it is, constantly questioning why his alpha finds him attractive at all but being pregnant adds enough layer on to the pre-existing insecurities. He always tries to reassure his alpha that they don’t have to touch him if they don’t want, that they should leave the room before he gets changed or when he’s bathing because they probably don’t want to see him like that. His insecurities run very deeply, just like Asmo’s, so they can’t be fixed, but they can be helped with lots of comfort and reassurance.

Insecure over abilities (e.g., being weak physically etc.):

· Sasuke – The fact that he can’t go on missions or train pisses him off. And as the months go by, he’s gaining weight and losing muscle definition and it freaks him out because he feels like he’s losing who he is which drops his self-esteem. Training has been a part of his life for as long as he can remember. Just design some softer workout routines for him with a mednin and remind him that he can still practice throwing kunai before he loses his goddamn mind.

· Bakugou – The physical condition of his body changing isn’t that big of a deal for him. He has a very small tummy, especially considering he’s pregnant with twins, and he knows he can bounce back after the birth because he’s super dedicated to his physical routine. What he’s not so confident about is the slipping control he has over his quirk. He has (had) an iron clad control, and the random explosions while pregnant are so embarrassing. Not to mention the disruption that his quirk causes in his nest. He has to replace so many cushions which makes his instincts go wild because significant changes to an omega’s nest while pregnant is distressing. If his friends tease him about the loss of control, he gets genuinely mad about because it’s something of a sore spot.

· Jumin – Jumin tries to keep his life while pregnant as close to his life before being pregnant as possible and in many ways, he nails it. He buys copies of his favourite suits and has them tailored every other week to fit his growing stomach. He buys non-alcoholic wine and drinks it with a grimace. He schedules lots of massages to keep the aches and pains away, so he feels normal. But there is one thing that isn’t so easy to keep normal: his emotions. Now, this fits into this category rather than the one below because Jumin gets insecure about how his emotional control impacts his ability to work. His emotions had never impacted his career before, but now he can’t help but tear up when he gets overstressed, he can’t work long hours without getting lonely and wanting to go home, he can’t take business trips because he doesn’t want to leave his nest for too long. It makes him feel a little like he’s lost himself because these things are things he’s been doing with ease for his entire life. He’s quite irritated by it and it damages his self esteem somewhat.

Insecure emotionally (e.g., unsure about being a good parent etc.):

· Tamaki –Tamaki also makes it onto this category. His insecurities are very specific, but he worries about being a bad role model socially for his pup. If his alpha is very socially adept, I’m not sure he would worry as much, because he knows that his pup can learn from their other parent, but if Tamaki’s alpha is also a little shy or prefers not being around people, then he gets really worried about it. Him being so shy and anxious has really impacted his life and he really doesn’t want it to impact his pup in the same way. He really worries that he’ll be a bad influence in that regard. (but the prospect of an extremely extroverted child is an equally terrifying concept in a different way haha.)

· Lucifer – He is very worried about being a good parent because all he can focus on is the past times when he wasn’t a good older brother. I mean, Satan hates him, and that’s as close to a father/child bond that Lucifer has, so surely that must mean he’s not cut out to be a father? He’s not good at emotions or reasonable punishments or showing affection or… well, point is he doesn’t think he has what it takes to be a good parent, when all he’s ever had is a shitty father himself, and all he’s ever been, is a shitty older brother that drove his family apart.

· Levi – Levi is insecure about most things that have to do with himself, so it’s not surprising that he gets very insecure about being a good parent which drops his self-esteem to an all time low. He can’t even watch any anime that focuses too much on parent/child relationships because he can’t help but compare himself every time, and he works himself up into a mini panic. It’s difficult to calm Levi’s insecurities but his partner can help him somewhat.

· Hawks – Keigo is very insecure about his abilities to protect his pup. His has this conspiracy theory that the hero commission will try to kidnap his child. They were furious when they found out he was pregnant during the peak of his career and they pushed him heavily towards abortion. Keigo leaked the pregnancy news to the public to force the commission’s hands, but he’s still so paranoid that they’ll stage a 'tragic accident' for his pup to force him back into hero work, or try and kidnap and raise his pup as they raised him. He doesn’t have any proof, per se, but he’s terrified that he can’t protect his pup so he really doesn’t like to leave his alpha’s presence. When he’s close to his due date, he’s too insecure with all his conspiracy theories clouding his mind to even let his alpha shower by themselves.

· V – Jihyun sort of convinces himself that he’s cursed when it comes to looking after people (Rika, Saeyoung, Saeran), so he’s very upset by the prospect that he’ll probably fail at raising his child too. He originally says that he wants to give the pup up for adoption to save them, but eventually you talk him around and start working through his problems. He just doesn’t thing he’ll be a good role model. The longer he waits to have children after the more traumatic events of his life, the less these issues crop up.

Miscellaneous:

· Aizawa – Shouta gets insecure when people pay too much attention to him being pregnant. He doesn’t like people giving up their seats for him on public transport, he doesn’t like his students and colleagues asking invasive questions, he doesn’t like those awful shop attendants that try to shoehorn him into buying baby supplies he doesn’t need. He wishes people would just treat him normally. (and he absolutely starts to activate his quirk every time someone tries to touch his tummy without asking first.) But yeah, all the eyes and attention makes him super uncomfortable and it makes him overanalyse everything he does which does impact his self esteem.

· Light – Light has a very specific insecurities while pregnant which revolve around the fear that he’s lowering himself by carrying a pup. All his life he’s had people tell him that because he’s an omega, he should give up on all his dreams and have pups and stay home instead. It really doesn’t sit well with him that he’s doing what all those awful people told him to do (at least it feels that way to him). He feels ashamed and he hates it. He avoids everything stereotypical while pregnant. He’ll kick you in the face if you try to rub his feet, he does everything in his power to avoid giving in to cravings, and he doesn’t make a nest. It all takes a serious toll on his health but it would take one hell of a stubborn alpha to get him to bend on any of that. It puts a strain on the relationship.

#a/b/o #omegaverse #reader insert #naruto #bnha #death note #mha #mystic messenger #obey me #omega!light #light #omega!aizawa #aizawa #omega!v #v #jihyun #hawks #tamaki #lucifer #levi #omega!hawks #keigo #omega!tamaki #omega!lucifer #omega!levi #bakugou #sasuke #jumin #omega!jumin #omega!bakugou

[seasonsofeverlark]

Pumpkin Pie and Cheese Buns

Author: @evestedic​

Prompt: Hard working coming home for thanksgiving. Stops at the store on the way to pick up the dessert she didn’t bother to make no one will notice anyway and runs into their ex lover. Tries to leave fast but has to take the walk of shame back to grab the cranberries too. Arrives home not just with the cranberries and pie…  [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T

____________

“God damn it!” Katniss was not happy. 

It was Thanksgiving, which meant she was being forced to spend time with people she didn’t even know.

Why?

Because they’re family, Katniss.

She could hear her Aunt Martha’s voice. 

Why should she care that her cousin was getting married?

Or that her nephew had gotten into college? 

Or that her godfather was slipping her a 20 buck bill while winking an eye at her? 

She wasn’t a total bitch, so she bore with it, but this was people she saw one fucking time per year! 

If it wasn’t for Thanksgiving, she was sure she wouldn’t see them again as they never even called. Nor did she.

But, be that as it may, Prim loved big gatherings and the attention; she was, after all, quite cheerful. Her father also bore with it, although better than her. 

However, who knew? This year her mother was coming with her new boyfriend. 

Ugh, puke… 

And that was why she was there, November the 26th, coming back from work and on her way to Aunt’s Martha’s house. 

Katniss was not happy. 

She had already left the store not five minutes ago, but something kept nagging at the back of her head while she accommodated the bags in the back of her car. 

Of course, being who she was, she had forgotten dessert. The pumpkin pie with maple whipped cream. Sighing and fuming, she went back to the absolute chaos of the aisles. If she arrived at her aunt’s without dessert…well, she would rather face a biblical plague. 

After perusing the dessert stand and seeing everything was completely wiped out‒not even crumbs were left‒she gave up and thought about getting some canned peaches and cherries.  That’s when she heard it…   

“Is that you, Katniss?” 

That voice. 

She had loved it at one point. Now, it was just nails on a chalkboard. 

Turning around, she set her eyes on a huge blonde guy; he had a perfect gym advertisement body, a smirk on his face, and his arm around a blonde girl with the same perfect gym advertisement body. 

“Cato.” 

“Buying for Thanksgiving?”

“No, just came because I was craving some peaches.” 

“Oh.”

Seriously? It was the most direct sarcastic answer ever, and he had actually believed her? 

Katniss rolled her eyes and was about to turn around when the Barbie clone spoke. 

“Is this the one, babe?”

“Yes, baby, that’s her.”

“Oh, I thought she’d be…I don’t know, prettier?”

“She never wanted to put in the effort, baby.”

“She is standing right here. And if working out turns you dumb, I’m glad I didn’t do it.” 

Katniss had gone out with Cato for two years when they were nineteen. Back then, he had been a kind guy, funny and perhaps a bit silly, but very nice, normal. He had asked her out after a college party, and she accepted; the rest was history. 

However, after one year of being together, he began frequenting the campus gym and suddenly started to change. All he could talk about were diets, exercise, and protein. Katniss was all in for a healthier life; hell, she knew if she kept on eating Greasy Sae’s food every other night, she was going to clog her arteries by the time she was 35, but Cato was relentless. He got rid of all of her comfort food and she had been forbidden to eat chicken and meat ever again. Only turkey and fish were allowed, vegetables, no dairy or eggs, no sugar! She was going crazy; Katniss had reached the obscene point of hiding in the bathroom to eat a Snickers bar, only to quickly brush her teeth and rinse with Listerine at least thrice so that her boyfriend wouldn’t taste any trace of chocolate when he kissed her. It was that night when she knew she couldn’t do it anymore. She no longer recognized the guy she had agreed to date or herself, for that matter. So, Katniss decided to end it right then and there. She skipped her next class and went to their dorm only to find him banging the very same Barbie girl who was in front of her in the canned aisle right now. 

Quickest breakup ever. 

He had said it was her fault for not ‘putting in the effort,’ and she hated him for it. 

“Jealousy doesn’t fit you, Katniss. Well,” Cato gave her a once-over, “I doubt anything does. Have you gained weight?” 

“If I have, that wouldn’t be any of your fucking business. What are you doing here? Came to buy something for dinner? I think there’s a celery and mineral water pack on sale.” 

“Still salty because I chose someone better?” Cato shamelessly licked the girl’s ear, making her giggle in an obnoxious way that made Katniss want to gag. 

She didn’t have to stand here and watch this; she-

Was that a hand on her waist?

“Hey, sorry I took so long. I literally had to wrestle this from an old lady.” 

That voice. 

Peeta Mellark was holding onto her waist and smiling that charming smile that could probably tame a wild animal, while proudly presenting a ham to her.

“Um…” Eloquent as always. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were with friends.” 

“Yeah, no…Not my friends.” 

“Aren’t you the baker guy? You’re slumming it with the bakery employee?” Cato laughed while Barbie‒Katniss really couldn’t care less about her actual name‒looked at Peeta appreciatively. 

“I haven’t introduced myself,” Peeta said, extending his right hand but not letting Katniss’ waist go. Cato immediately took it, flexing his bicep as he did so, but his expression faltered when he shook Peeta’s hand. “Peeta Mellark, owner of ‘The Cake Lair’. Have you guys ever been?” 

Katniss was confused. 

It wasn’t as if she and Peeta were actually friends. They had talked, yes. She simply loved the pastries he sold, and because of how she had raved about his cheese buns, well…the double entendre put her in an uncomfortable position, but he had only laughed and thanked her for the compliment, as he had, in fact, baked those himself. 

Peeta always made sure to set aside at least two cheese buns for her prior to the end of the day. 

And okay, yeah, they had exchanged numbers and texted from time to time, but nothing deep. It was always things about the weather, the cheese buns, or how Prim was. Did that qualify as being friends? 

Katniss was awful at being a good friend, hence why she only had two: Gale and Madge. Her sister and father didn’t count; they were family. 

Shaking her head, she returned to the present to find that arm still around her and Cato’s face getting red. 

“Just let go, dude.  You’re about to pop a vein.” Peeta chuckled. 

Katniss directed her gaze at their hands; she could see they were both squeezing the hell out of each other. Cato probably thought he could scare Peeta off with his muscles, but he clearly hadn’t seen Peeta shirtless on a hot day, hauling 100-pound flour sacks onto his back as if they were light cargo. Peeta was strong, like ‘I could iron clothes on your stomach’ fit; he just didn’t flaunt it, and Katniss appreciated that.

Cato huffed and let go, and Peeta smiled once more and winked at Barbie, who was giggling like an idiot. 

“So, we should be going soon if we want to make it, Katniss. You know how Aunt Martha gets if we don’t get the groceries in time for her.” 

So yeah, she had told him about her hellish weekend to come last week, but Katniss didn’t think he would remember. 

With his hand still on her waist and her still not shrugging it off, they made to pass Cato and his doll, but, of course, the bodybuilder felt the need to use the sole neuron in his brain. 

“You know you’re just a replacement, right? I mean, she went and looked for the next guy that kinda looked like me because she clearly can’t forget me.” 

Tuck your thumb over your middle finger to make a proper fist. If you wrap your fingers around your thumb, you’re likely going to break it. 

Her father’s words and the boxing lessons came back in a flash, and before Peeta could hold her back, Katniss pivoted on her left foot, momentum aiding her, and connected her first with Cato’s jaw. She wasn’t an expert boxer or anything of the sort; she just liked the exercise, and she was strong. But Katniss must have been lucky enough to hit the sweet spot because Cato dropped to the aisle floor, unconscious. 

“Babe!” Barbie girl screeched, and suddenly, two more gorilla-looking guys were coming to her aid. 

Friends of his, no doubt. 

“Tell your boy toy, next time he wants to bully me to think twice, lest he finds himself beaten up again by a woman,” Katniss spat at the blonde girl. 

“You did this?” A broad and tall black guy asked. He was actually pretty scary, but Katniss held her ground and managed to nod. To her surprise, he chuckled and sort of bowed to her. “He’s an ass. I bet he had it coming. We’ll take care of him.” 

“Thresh! He’s your friend…” Barbie girl actually had tears in her eyes. 

“He’s not. We’re just in the same weightlifting class. And don’t cry; he’ll come to soon. Finnick, help me bring this idiot back.” 

“You must have a mean right hook, hon,” the guy with reddish hair and perfect teeth told Katniss. 

“I do.” She jutted out her chin proudly; her dad had taught her well. 

“Nice to know you have it all sorted out. Katniss, should we go?” Peeta was pulling her a bit, and she let him, both soon finding themselves out in the parking lot, having decided to leave behind the cans and the ham. 

Once they were in front of her car, Katniss did something she rarely did. 

“I’m sorry I cost you your ham.” 

Peeta seemed surprised, but he simply smiled. “That’s okay. There are a lot of hams left, actually; I just needed an excuse to walk up to you.” 

“Why did you do that?” 

“That guy was an ass, and I know you could’ve handled it on your own, but…,” he leaned in a bit and whispered, “doesn’t it feel good to let him know you’re with someone much better now?” 

Katniss couldn’t help it, she laughed. “You’re full of yourself, Mellark!” 

“Hey! I’m a catch, I tell you. Owner of his own bakery, hard-working; I know how to cook and bake, and I’m easy on the eyes, too.” 

“Not to mention, tons and tons of humility.” 

“That, too.” He smiled, and Katniss rolled her eyes, but she really didn’t feel angry with him. She hadn’t needed his help, but he had offered it freely without expecting anything in return. “So, I guess this is where we part ways.” 

“What are your plans for tonight, Peeta?” Katniss suddenly asked, and he was surprised as well. 

“Uhhhh, not much. Bake something? Eat it while watching TV, nothing exciting.” 

“You can come to my Aunt Martha’s, if you want. Prim would love to see you, and this way I can repay your ‘act of kindness’.” 

“Really? You sure it wouldn’t bother you?” 

“If it did, I wouldn’t have asked.” 

“Sure, I’d love to.” 

“Okay, but before that, there’s something I need you to do for me.” 

“What is it?” 

“Can you drive? My right hand is killing me.” 

                                                °•. ✿ .•°

“Why couldn’t you just buy it?” Katniss whined.

“Because I actually enjoy baking. You should know this already.” Peeta chuckled as he handled the mixer. After a few more turns, it seemed everything was ready. “I just need to flour the containers now.” Peeta patted his hands on his apron and went back to the pantry. 

Katniss took her chance. 

She slowly inched her hand forward, her eyes not leaving Peeta’s back, just in case. 

Two more inches and-

“I swear, Katniss, if you’re reaching for that dough I won’t make any cheese buns for a week.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she exclaimed, shocked. That wasn’t fair! Peeta hadn’t even turned around, but he knew what she had been about to do. 

“Try me, love.” He then approached the table again, watching a grumbling Katniss cross her arms. “You know you can’t have raw dough while pregnant.”

“That’s a stupid rule. I bet it’s invented. How did women manage centuries ago, then?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. They sometimes died intoxicated, so no biggie.” Peeta was serious now. 

“I wouldn’t die over a bit of dough…” She said it under her breath, but he heard.

Peeta sighed, and Katniss felt a pang of regret. Damn him. “Katniss, do we really have to discuss this again? It’s Thanksgiving, and I’d bet my bank account Aunt Martha would come down here and force you to go to the party if you weren’t so-” 

“Go on, finish what you were going to say.” Katniss knew she was so big she might be in need of her own postal code. 

“-tired. You’re carrying twins, and that’s not an easy feat. The only thing she asked for was the pumpkin pie with maple whipped cream.”

“Every fucking year.” 

“She indulges during the holiday.”

“Why not just get one from the bakery?”

“She wants it fresh.” 

“Why doesn’t she come down here and get it herself?”

“You really want your Aunt Martha here? Right now? Today?”

“…No.” Why did Peeta have to be so logical? 

“I know you’re crabby and your feet are probably swelling. Let me put this in the oven, and then I’ll massage them with some of that lavender cream your mother gave you.” 

“And a bath.”

“A massage and a bath, you got it.” 

Peeta, of course, fulfilled his promise and left Katniss so relaxed she fell asleep and didn’t even notice her husband had gone and come back from the Everdeen’s annual Thanksgiving gathering. 

By the time she opened her eyes, he was sitting next to her, reading a book. 

“Hey…did you all get a proper rest?” Peeta put a hand on her belly, smiling. 

“I think so, yeah; they just started moving.” 

“I can feel. Here, let me help you up.” Peeta’s strength was no joke. He could single-handedly lift her up, yes, even when she felt like a whale, and prop her on the bed so she could sit comfortably. “That okay?” 

“Yes, perfect.” 

“Happy anniversary, love.” He presented her with a huge cheese bun, making her laugh.

“Peeta, just because we fucked for the first time four years ago today, doesn’t mean it’s an anniversary.”

“For me it is! Come on, I bet you didn’t think we’d end up doing it in the bathroom that night.” 

“I seriously didn’t.”

“But here we are, and that’s all that matters.” 

Her husband really was the cheesiest person alive, but she secretly adored that part of him. 

“Shut up and let me enjoy my cheese bun.”

“Your wish is my command.” 

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #evestedic #submission #prompt

[sloppy-butcher]

Can you do C E J K L X for Trapper? :)

yes. i am still answering these. i apologize for the wait, these past few days have been rough but i am finally working through the block. thank you for the ask and i hope these are good enough for you and imm sorry for the wait <3

;;edit, pls no more fluffy alphabet requests, thank you :)

Fluffy Alphabet for The Trapper (Evan Macmillan)

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

It may take a while for him to notice you suffering over there in the corner, his head so far lost in his own thoughts that all the world around him was a passing blur. But once he does, when your soft whimpering breaches his overcrowded ears, Evan would immediately call you over. He’d grunt softly, his gruff voice shattering the nights silent air and causing you to raise your head and cast your troubled eyes over him. Evan curses himself for not noticing earlier.

A large, scarred hand stretches out and welcomes you to join. Once you manage to curl up beside him, Evan pulls you even closer, his big arm acting as a makeshift scoop and firmly secures you to his side. He would use his massive body as a shield of sorts to protect you from yourself and the cruel outside world. Though words are not exchanged, your true feelings never really given verbal expression, your anxieties begin to die and burn away from the heat of Evan’s body.

He uses his size to comfort you and his intimacy to project his support for your plea. He is there to guard you, maybe not to talk, but to stay with you until it eventually passes.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He would be the dominant one. 100%. Though he is not one to verbally command you, it is through side ward looks and scowls that he gets his point across. He folds his arms and looks down at you, the brow behind his mask furrowed in annoyance. 

He determines when it is a good time to cuddle, when to smooch him, how hard or how gentle. It’s not the he doesn't enjoy your affections, it’s just that he is very busy man and must plan his time accordingly. As much as he loves to indulge in your love, he must keep up the hard work lest his boss catch wind and take you away. 

You can try be a brat to him, stomp your feet and complain about the lack of cuddles. But that little act won’t get you too far with a man who can just pick you up as if you weigh nothing and sling you over his unharmed shoulder. It would be like trying to fight a brick wall - impossible. 

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh yes - very much so. He gets jealous at even a mere look from another survivor or killer. Though he does not show it, Evan is a very possessive man, guarding his things with the politeness of a viper in a gentleman’s suit. he holds his tongue and steads his hand but his eyes say it all.

You are his and his alone. If you are so interested in other then leave and don’t involve him. But as long as you claim to love him, giving him your body and soul, then he will protect you and possess you like he did with everything else valuable in his life. 

He glowers at passerbys, he spits at idle talkers and he flexes his biceps threateningly at lingerers. He towers behind you like great storm, rolling in power and violence. You could ask him why he acted like such a child but you would get no response from him. This was not a talking matter - things like these have to be demonstrated. And so they shall. 

How Evan internally deals with this growing lump of jealousy is he sits alone and thinks - more like contemplates. he ponders away and has bountiful ‘shower-conversations’ in his head. Sure acting this way would make him perceive to be an asshole but to hell with what others think. He would die before he’d ask someone to step down. 

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

In the beginning, no way. The man has had little to no practice at all and is completely lost when you first approach him with a smooch. He’s dead stiff and his eyes remain open as if afraid you are pulling some kind of cruel trick on him or that you might disappear in disappointment. His lips are chapped and many times when you have pulled away you find blood on your lips and can taste copper in your mouth. He apologizes for his appearance and asks why you would even wish to be so intimate with such a monster. You reassure him by placing your hand on his cheek and pressing your forehead to his, “Because I love you, Evan.”

However, with enough practice, he softens and succumbs to your encouragement. Once he eases into kissing Evan becomes very demanding and can go quite a long time without breathing. His tongue is also very powerful and is often very hungry. When he gets like this, Evan will cup the back of your head in his big hands and will provide you with extra support as he deepens the kiss, leaning into you with great, needy force. His tongue is unstoppable as his hunger for your love grows.

The first kiss is most definitely awkward and quick, a dream of a kiss that goes by too fast for it to be properly appreciated. You catch him working at his bench, his hands preoccupied with his copious amounts of bear-traps and spare parts. You wander in beside him, casting an eye over his shoulder and noting all the new cuts and bruises on his fingers. You sigh and lean into him. Evan immediately bends to your presence, sighing in his own way and relinquishing some of his attention to you.

Oh, how wonderful you are to him. So kind and forgiving, beautiful as the sun he never sees anymore. Evan moves closer to your warmth, allowing himself to momentarily bask in your love. As his face moves towards yours, an idea sparks and before he could full asses the pros and cons of such a venture, he smashes into your lips. Keep in mind, he was still wearing his mask and when he pulled away, Evan saw blood leaking from small cuts along your lip line. Evan feels unspeakably shameful for hurting you with his neediness. You smile and gently guide his face back to yours. You promise to kiss him more if he takes his mask off next time.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

If Evan could go his whole life without admitting he had feelings for you, then he would gladly do so. He has buried many a things deep in his heart, tucking them away under rugs and behind paintings where they would never see the light of day again. Yeah, sometimes the burden of these suppressed emotions would eat away at his soul always leaving him feeling just that bit emptier and hollow. 

He supposed he could just bury his love for you the same way he buried everything else, but that bitch had claws and an iron grasp - he simply could not run away from his feelings towards you.

So one night, when the build-up in his chest grew too painful to hush over, Evan stops you as you try to leave. It was late and you were saying your goodbyes when you notice his hesitation. He remained stoic, his face an impossible book of unimaginable rumination. He shuffles awkwardly for moment before managing to choke out a single phrase.

“Stay.”

In that simple word you feel his true intentions, his complete and restrained desperation to not be alone. You see his hand twitch towards you and you understand his silent plea. You nod your agreement and nothing more is said. 

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle? 

Most days, not really. Like previously explained, Evan is a man of routine and most of is work days have no spare time for excessive cuddling and the such.

However, he is ALWAYS craving your touch. 

When the odd off-day arrives, Evan wastes no time in scooping you up in his large, beefy arms and taking out his frustrations on you. He holds you against his hot body relentlessly, often pressing his chin into the side of your neck and breathing down your side. he kisses you without hesitation and goes wild even your return his affections. He is selfish during these moments and can hold you for hours on end, content just to be with someone who loves him. 

#dbd imagines #dbd fluff #dbd the trapper #dbd the trapper x reader #dbd evan macmillan x reader

[plush-rabbit]

We’ll Be Okay

Word Count: 2.6

A/N: Broski,,, I've literally been sitting on this idea for such a long time you have no idea

In all your years of living, you never thought you'd enjoy living in Devildom and living with demons- and not just any old, run of the mill ones either- the ones who held status and made people cower with a glance and want to themselves at them and saw it as an opportunity and gift. You grew to love the demons who fell from the Celestial Realm and who became the Avatars of the Seven Sins.

They were feared. They garnered respect just because of who they were. They were powerful and imposing- even the so called weakest one could wipe out humanity if given the chance. But they were also dorky and teased each other often. They were nervous and held insecurities in their iron grip. You were able to stand up to them in times where you felt like you would have collapsed onto your knees. You've been in hell and felt like hell in certain times but the good outweighed the bad. They were ironically, the good in this quite literal hellish place.

You never thought that you would have become attached to them, never thought that you would seek out the comfort from the demons, snuggle next to them and have your face peppered with kisses and hands held. You never thought they would become attached to you, holding your hand in the late of nights, fighting over to dance with you during a ball. When you first arrived you were in shock and couldn’t utter a sentence without trembling or tripping over your words, but now, you consider them as family- you speak freely to them and joke around.

You love them, you'd do anything for them. They're your family. But all good things must come to an end. Your year here is almost up, the exchange program is almost over in a few months and you'll return back home. You won't have the brothers around to pull you into their antics, you won't have the angels who hold too polite of smiles and hand you tasty sweets in cute little boxes. You won't have the sorcerer come in and tease you, having his magic dance around you in an attempt to make you smile and a slight smirk when a brother notices and pulls a frown. You won’t have a Prince who smiles brightly and speaks earnestly and a butler who holds so much power and poise.

You're going to go home and all of this is going to become a memory. You won't live in it, you won't wake up and have to rush down to the table before your food is all gone. You won't have someone read to you or go into depth about the latest show. You won't be pulled into snuggles, won't have a self care day, you won't be scolded or fretted over. You won't have your stuff gone through and have someone be your protector.

None of them want to admit that you're leaving. Lucifer stating it during breakfast and you nodding your head, the weight of the words hitting you like a ton of bricks. You knew the day was- is coming. But you could never expect that it would hold so much weight and power over you and your emotions- that one single date could make your stomach churn and heart ache. The other brothers ignore the words- ignore the warning- and they wave off the words and take you shopping or eating or watching something- anything as long as they get to forget that you're leaving. They get stuck to you like glue, just wanting you near them even if all you do is sit in silence or listen to them tell a story. You get to pretend that you aren't leaving- that the upcoming date is still far away and will never come up. But it does and it will. And the time to tell a certain demon how you truly feel is ticking closer to zero.

You've fallen in love with one of them. Become smitten with a literal demon with the horns and wings and fangs and all. Someone so greedy that he wanted and craved all. A demon who self proclaimed that he's your first and that you're his human. Who became so greedy for your attention and love and confided that you were the only one to ever treat him with love and praise without anything else icky and mean laced in your words and touch. Who held strong feelings towards you but when teased about it would deny and stutter and only be teased further. 

And now you lay in bed next to him- your favorite one but you can never say those words aloud lest you want to witness a fight and petty comments- while you listen to your playlist in silence. 

He sits next to you with closed eyes. Slow, deep breathing that could be mistaken for sleep if not for the fact that he keeps drumming his fingers and with a burning face when the lyrics to the song turn romantic.

Pinkies ghost each other, the warmth that he gives off is an intense heat, always burning and consuming.  The song in the background fades slowly and is picked up by another with a similar tempo. You thank your lucky stars that you picked a playlist that held similar music genres. You don’t know how the atmosphere would have differed if you hadn’t.

“You know I’m leaving soon, right?” You breathe out in a low whisper, your fingers curling slightly inwards. “I’m going back to the human world.”

“Yeah,’ he whispers back with a broken breath, “I know.”

“I’m gonna miss you all.” You pause. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Of course you will. I’m-”

“You’re the Great Mammom,” you giggle. “How could I ever forget?” 

It’s silent afterwards, the lyrics, not registering to your brain, fill the dark room lit up only by the light from your D.D.D. and the fairy lights you put up so long ago. 

“You know,” you start, “it feels like I’ve been here forever. I uh,” you chuckle, “I remember putting up the fairy lights-” you point to the lights hanging on the walls, a few bulbs flickered out months ago, lifetimes ago- “and I was so scared that Lucifer was going to get mad at me for ruining the room or something.”

“He did. Blew a fuse while Levi had you holed up in his room.” His laugh is rich, loud and has a bit of a cackle to it. “I think he almost tore them down but Asmo started defendin’ them, callin’ them pretty and stuff.”

You turn your head to face him. “How come I didn’t know?”

He gives you a side glance and shrugs. “I don’t know. Didn’t seem important at the time, I guess.”

You nod slowly and look back up at the ceiling. “It seems so long ago now. Everything you know? Remember when you didn’t want to babysit me? Said all sorts of things and complained too,” you smirk and stretch out your fingers, flinching when you make contact with his hand. “Remember when Levi and I stuck Goldie in a microwave?”

You hear him growl. “You coulda ruined the poor girl!” He slaps your side, letting the back of his hand linger on you for a second longer. “Still haven’t forgiven you,” he grumbles.

“I’ve forgiven you for things,” you mutter, crawling your hands over to hold his. He tenses underneath your touch for a moment before relaxing.

“Like what? I’ve been nothin’ but nice to ya since you’ve been here!” He pulls his hand away and rises on his elbows, a playful glare directed your way as you stifle your laughter behind your now free hand.

“Remember when you broke into my room while I was with Solomon and started looking through my stuff to pawn off?” His mouth pulls into a thin and his hand clenches into fists.

“Who told you that?” His eyes shift around and he collapses back to his back with eyes shut tight and nose scrunched up.

“Beel,” you chuckle, rolling over onto your side and admiring his features. “I think we’re even.”

He really is handsome. He’s a model for a reason after all. Your hand reaches over and you run your fingers through his silvery hair. He sighs slowly, eyes fluttering to a close and neck craning further into your touch. 

“Even’s fine,” he whispers, a tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

The song ends and it's followed by a silence that is unbroken. Your eyes follow the fairy lights' trail, and you watch as another dimly lit bulb blinks out of existence.

"I think," you chew nervously on your bottom lip and your fingers scratch lightly as his scalp, "I'm hungry." You rise from the bed and wait on your knees with palms on your thighs. "Wanna come get something with me?"

He groans and rises, running a manicured hand through his hair. "It's late. All the food is probably gone by now."

You shrug and motion with your hands for him to move. "We can still check. You can stay here if you'd like," you offer, crawling out of bed after him. 

"Tch. And let you go alone," he rolls his eyes, "as if." He punches your shoulder lightly and opens the door, stepping aside to let you go before him.

Out in the hallway, you immediately latch onto his hand, fingers interlacing and he starts to stutter, his voice tight and broken. 

"You know," you start, cutting him off from his unintelligible words, "I'm going to miss holding your hand," you swallow nervously, face heating up and you tighten your grasp on his hand, palm already starting to clam up. "You're always so warm, ya know?"

You give him a side glance and give a sigh when his lips are pulled tight and his face is flushed. You think you can even feel the heat radiate off of him but that might just be from you.

"You don't have to go," he says quietly, face turned away. When you arrive at the kitchen, he lets go of your hand and opens the fridge. He's hunched over and jars full of jelly and other various things that look a bit too unsettling are shoved and clink around with each other. "You could just stay. You're- I'm your first after all."

You sit at a stool and watch him with sad eyes. "I wish I could," you whisper, "but this was always meant to last a year." You can feel tears form and you have to blink them back.

The fridge door is slammed shut and in his hand is a paper bag decorated with orchids. It crinkles in his hand and he places the bag in front of you, taking a seat next to you.

"Found some macaroons," he opens the bag and pulls out a pink treat. "Think they might be Asmo's but if ya ate them, he won't be as mad," he shrugs, taking a bite out of the snack. 

"So you're letting me take the blame?" You joke, shaking your head and pulling out a yellow treat. "To think you'd throw your human under the bus,” you say with a mock offended gasp, a hand clutching your chest. 

"Either you or me," he flashes his teeth in a smile. "Sorry about that doll."

"You know if he thinks I ate them, he'll probably ask for something in exchange like taking me out to help him choose an outfit or," you take a bite out of the pastry, "a kiss."

Mammon chokes on the last bite of his macaron, a hand coming to pat himself on the chest. Your eyes go wide and you rise from the stool, the wood making a harsh sound against the tile. Your hands come to pat rapidly against his back, cursing under your breath until his coughs turn into deep breathing. 

"You okay Mammon?" You go this side, one of your arms snaking around to touch his rapidly beating heart and the other staying settled on his back. "Just take deep breaths, okay?" You tell him softly, rubbing his back. You tilt your head and rest it on his shoulder.

He jerks up straight and you're able to move before his shoulder collides with your cheek. 

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he repeats, shaking his head. 

"Yeah?" 

He nods his head, mouth parted slightly open as he breathes. During his coughing fit, his hand came up to clutch your hand above his chest and he holds it firmly.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you like holding my hand."

"What makes you say that?"

"The fact that you're holding onto my hand right now is a pretty good indicator," you tease, twitching the hand that is held between his chest and hand.

"We-Well you're my human after all! And you made me choke so-"

"Mammon?"

He falters and looks at you with wide eyes. "Hm?"

"Let me sit down?" You slowly slide your hands away from him, your touch slow and desperate not to part from his. "We can still hold hands," you tell him as you grab the stool and pull it closer to him. You sit swiftly, your palm left facing up and open. Its empty for only a few seconds before his hand comes in and holds onto yours. Its limp before it folds and squeezes your hand.

"You leave in a couple of months, yeah?"

"Yeah," there's a lump in your throat that makes it hard to swallow, "in a couple."

"We still got things we can do," he says softly, turning to look at you. 

"Lots of things," you agree. You smile when his thumb begins to stroke your hand.

"And then," he clears his throat and looks into your eyes, "when you're gone…," he trails off, not finding the correct words as his tongue darts and points through his cheeks.

"When I'm gone," you start, "we'll still be okay." You raise your hand still interlocked with his, "We're in a pact. We'll be okay," you tell him. You want to press a kiss against his knuckles, and keep him close to you but you can’t muster up the courage to do so.

"'Course we will. You just summon me and I'll be there."

It's a nice thought to have- something to help keep you grounded and imagine the future. You'll be up in the human realm and you'll be able to summon him first and get to hear him and feel him. He won't be entirely gone. Only for just a moment. And he's lived for eons. It'll be a blink for him. But it’ll feel like forever for you. It will always be forever for you.

"Hey, mind doing me a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Can you tell me a story about something cool you did? I think I just wanna hear you talk a bit more."

Maybe you won't confess tonight. Maybe you'll wait until tomorrow or the night before you leave. Maybe you won't ever tell him. The thought of parting makes your heart hurt. But for right now as he talks and waves his hand around telling his story, a wide grin and spark in his eyes, his other hand still holding tightly onto yours, you think you'll be okay. 

You'll be okay staring at his bright blue eyes with hints of gold, at his snow colored hair which holds the rays of sun in between tufts. You’ll live in the moment and you’ll think about holding him without second guessing, you’ll hold his hand until you both start to get clammy and he’ll make an excuse about why he can’t go to his bed and you’ll wake up in his arms tomorrow. It’ll be enough for now.

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me imagines #mammon x reader #om mammon #om mammon x reader #i simp for mammon #hard #i just #love #ahhh #okay #thats enough #beel is up next #updates are a bit slow because i procrastinate #too much #so #ye #sorry about that #i hope you like it!! #if you don't feel free to ask for another!

[laceymorganwrites]

Someone´s disaster

Word count: 1,624

Pairing: Atsumu x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, unhealthy relationships and insecurities

Song: Someone´s disaster - Beach Weather

Summary: Atsumu is selfdestructive and you have way too many walls. It doesn´t mean anything, does it?

A/N: This was so much fun to write, please always talk with your partner about your inner conflicts, the relationship depicted in this isn´t healthy, I´m not romanticising anything, this is just from their pov.

General taglist: @newfriendjen

I've been searching for a drug like you Breathing in that Pollyanna youth Chasing down those melancholy hues Cause I've been searching for a drug like you

You were the kind of girl that was at every party she could go to. Provided that famous people would be there too. You didn´t really care how famous they were, it was enough for them to be in the spotlight.

It wasn´t so much that you craved their fame. You craved attention, craved people looking at you as if they loved you, even if it was just for one night.

Maybe it was fucked up, but you liked broken people. Seeking them out was like a game to you at this point and ironically you found the most to be famous and forced to attend parties they didn´t want to be at.

Broken people always seemed to attract each other like magnets, destroying each other even more and perhaps you craved that destruction too.

After all you didn´t believe in the good in people, having been betrayed and disappointed too much already in your life.

Instead people became shallow to you, you didn´t want to make any friends, not wanting to see them leave you like everyone else. Anything involving any sort of attachment and commitment scared you, love and any kind of romance especially.

It was easier to focus on your physical needs anyway, emotions were overrated and only ended up being a nuisance. Oh it kills me and there's no denying that I can't shake Cause I just wanna be someone's disaster And I can't break but I know you're trying And it kills me cause I just wanna be someone's disaster

Atsumu didn´t want to be at this party, he hated how fucking fake everyone was. Nobody cared about him and everyone was always so adamant to talk about themselves. Maybe that was a selfish thought of him, but then again, he didn´t want people to care about specifically him.

He wanted them to care overall. The thing that annoyed him most about those parties was that none of its guests needed to be there. And yet all of them crowded the place, thinking they owned it.

He came to hate those events, even his birthday. Hell, especially his birthday. Getting all those fake messages wishing him good luck and health and whatever. Those people were just messaging him to be able to tell their friends about it.

It made him sick to the stomach.

All Atsumu wanted to do on his birthday was hide in a hole and never come out again. He wished he could at least spend it with his brother, but their relationship hasn´t been the best lately.

Especially in the current season. He wasn´t at his best performance wise and everyone knew it.

They knew and still complimented him on it, as if he didn´t screw up his serves all the time, as if they weren´t inaccurate and sloppy.

Nothing infuriated him more than pretentious people, the people who called themselves his fans.

The thing that irked him the most was that they weren´t being honest, trying everything to be in the spotlight for a second and denying ever doing so. You've been looking for a wreck like me A perfect catastrophic harmony Falling in and out of symmetry Cause you've been looking for a wreck like me

Maybe it was because of that, that Atsumu noticed you straight away.

You weren´t really that outstanding in the crowd, you did what everyone else did too, mingle in the crowd and appease people who thought they were the most important in the room.

But unlike everyone else, you were being honest about it.

When Atsumu looked into your bored, lightless eyes, he felt a rush of adrenaline go through him.

He couldn´t remember when he last felt this excited.

Over the years he got really good at identifying red flags such as yourself, but he also realized that he was way into them.

Why deny that he craved the heartbreak? What good would it do him? Fuck, if it meant being wrecked by you, he´d go through hell if that was what it took.

Atsumu was bored of nice people, they were all so bland and he learned not to trust them because everyone always wanted something. And you always had to be careful with people who you couldn´t tell what they wanted.

After everything, Atsumu needed to feel something and sadly agony was the only thing that worked.

He couldn´t believe in the cheers of his fans anymore, not in the congratulations from his friends and teammates, well, he didn´t have friends these days.

But hearing that someone didn´t love him anymore? That he´d never be good enough? Now, that was something which was way too easy to believe.

In a weird way it made him feel at ease.

And you didn´t. At all.

You made him feel a kind of excited that he hadn´t felt in so long, he wanted you to break him in a different way, to break him only to put him back together and then smash his heart to pieces.

So when you suggested to get away from the party, he agreed without any second thoughts.

That night he had the best sex he ever had in his life and realized that it wasn´t nearly enough for him.

Oh it kills me and there's no denying that I can't shake Cause I just wanna be someone's disaster And I can't break but I know you're trying And it kills me cause I just wanna be someone's disaster

Before he met you, Atsumu only attended the parties his teammates invited him to, the ones that were mandatory. But now, he was at every single one just to meet you again.

He was desperate, greedy and in need for you.

When he finally found you, you just laughed at him, pointing out his miserable state.

You took pity on him and your arrangement was born.

The relationship with Atsumu was weird to say the least, he was more dependent on you, that much was clear.

In a strange way you found that cute, you liked being needed and Atsumu was always so honest with everything he did and said even though he didn´t notice it himself.

He was wide eyed and had a good soul, he was too kind to be fucked over by the world like this.

And you hated yourself for caring that much.

You never did before, but somehow he made it way too easy. It irritated you.

The two of you were just fucking every time you met, so why did you look forward to every stupid party now? And why didn´t you fuck anyone else like you usually did? Why weren´t you letting yourself get bored of Atsumu like usual? What was it about him?

Maybe you really pitied him.

Well, whatever it was, you didn´t want it to stop and you sure as hell didn´t want to think about it.

Because thinking about it would make it true, the truth only sent you running usually.

This time you wanted to stay and let him break you apart.

Somehow you looked forward to the pain, to the heartbreak. Because it would once again prove that it was always the same, that your intuition wasn´t wrong and that you should go back to your usual self and ways.

Atsumu didn´t make it easy for you.

I've been searching for a drug like you You've been looking for a wreck like me I've been searching for a drug like you Oh for a drug like you

With more time passing, it became almost impossible to be apart from Atsumu. Both of you never imagined that it would go like this, that whatever you had would last.

But it didn´t make any of you happy. It wasn´t enough. You were far too gone for that, you both were head over heels, but too stubborn to admit it, too scared of getting hurt and yet expecting it at the same time.

As if it was inevitable.

Today wasn´t the first time you stayed over after Atsumu insisted. You didn´t complain, even though staying over was the dealbreaker. Even though both of you promised not to catch feelings and stop seeing each other as soon as you did.

It was as if you forgot that other people existed too, though nobody else would suffice, you needed each other.

Every time you stayed over at his place, Atsumu made you breakfast and kissed you softly as if it was normal, like a dance practiced a hundred times.

And you didn´t complain.

Instead you felt safe and oddly comfortable. It was too good for your taste, you didn´t trust it.

Both of you didn´t, but neither of you said anything about it.

If you mentioned it, it would be over and that was the last thing you wanted.

So you just bathed in his company, enjoyed the way he held your hand, got excited when you watched his games.

He took you with him to his training because he hated being alone, but usually he just needed someone around, he didn´t care who it was.

But now it had to be you, nobody else would be what he wanted, who he needed.

Only you.

Bokuto had asked him one day if you were his girlfriend and without thinking about it, he had replied ´not yet´.

Girlfriend. That sounded nice. It kills me and there's no denying that I can't shake Cause I just wanna be someone's disaster And I can't break but I know you're trying And it kills me cause I just wanna be someone's disaster

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu songfic #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu atsumu #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagine #atsumu oneshot #atsumu scenario #atsumu songfic #hq #hq imagine #hq songfic #hq oneshot #hq scenario #hq atsumu

[bang-and-a-blintz]

A Little Extra

Deadass. I woke up the other night at like 4am because this idea popped in my head. Would’ve been nice for it to have been a dream but whatever (thanks a lot, subconscious) and I tried to write it instead. For some reason I can’t stop thirsting over Sasha but I also just want to give him a big hug so this ended up manifesting from that. And yes, I know his character is supposed to be a total twat but I still love him. 

So here’s a little Sasha Mann/Reader oneshot that miiiiiight potentionally be more. I have lots of thots. 😇

Fandom: The Affair

Relationship: Sasha Mann//Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warning: In the realm of smuttiness (basically just some not-so-dry humping)

Word Count: 3,504

~A Little Extra~

You've seen him on set a few times but never had the chance to be properly introduced, and it's not like you can just waltz on up to the lead actor, especially someone with as much prestige as Sasha Mann. No way. At least not when you just got hired fairly recently as an extra for the film. It had been a dream come true to finally be working on a real set in Hollywood and, not to mention, you always did have a little crush on Mr. Mann, so it was just a stroke of luck that you landed the same film.

Oh, how you wished you could go up to him and just say hey or something. Anything for the chance to hear him say your name with that charming accent and smile in that endearingly boyish way of his. But you feared the opportunity may have passed ever since he and that Helen woman split up. You had nothing against her, but the Sasha that walked into work now was a far cry from the man you remembered before the breakup. 

Gone was the sweet and genial man who came in every day with a big grin on his face. Now, however, he was so easily irritated and ill-tempered, snapping at anyone who crossed his path.

He rarely smiled anymore and it saddened you.

Before, Sasha had always been kind to everyone working on set; he would make a point to take time out of his day to greet all of the cast members and crew. On several occasions, he treated the everyone to some wild nights out on the town. You knew the man must make a fortune, being an A-listed actor and all, but even still, catering to a group of fifty or more for all expense-free parties around town must add up eventually. But he never even batted an eye; it seemed like he just loved to see everyone having a good time. All in all, the guy was generally pretty friendly with anyone who crossed his path. At least as far as you could tell, but unfortunately, it didn't seem like that was the case as of late.

"Where the fuck is my coffee? And who the fuck has taken my robe?!" Sasha roared across the room and the chatter quietened a smidge. A few people scurried off while his assistant went over to him with the article of clothing in question.

"The coffee is brewing, sir."

"Brewing? Fucking hell, are you a witch cooking it up in a cauldron, hm? Ever heard of a goddamn Keurig? Well, I'll tell you, it's one of those funny little machines that have a rather conveniently placed button that when pushed, miraculously funnels out the magical fucking coffee!"

Yikes.

"Mr. Mann, it's broken." The guy looked bored with his boss and you had to give it to him for dealing with Sasha's little tantrum. He was acting more and more like a pretentious asshole every day and it was getting old. 

You stood by and casually sipped on your cup of mint tea. They had just finished filming a scene with you somewhere off in the crowd and now you were just relaxing before they called wraps. Not wanting to be anywhere near Mr. Mann’s warpath, you shuffled around them and hoped no one would notice.

The last thing you needed today was to be caught up in that nonsense.

All of a sudden a hand gripped your arm, nearly spilling the tea everywhere, and pulled you in the opposite direction. It was the assistant director and he looked frantic. "Y/N, right? Well Rachel, the lead, you know, she's just called in sick and we have a super strict schedule today and it turns out that you look the part exactly so congrats to you. You get to be one of the big shots for a day! Sex scenes always get the talent agent's attention, so really, you’re probably getting the better end of the deal."

"Excuse me, did you say sex scene?" You stumbled a bit but his iron-like grip kept you upright as he plowed on forward towards the make-up department.

"Yes, you had signed the nudity rider that your agent had sent over to us stating that you would consent to any nude scenes that involved sexual activities, but not the actual act of sex itself, of course. This isn't porn." You begrudgingly remembered a conversation you had with your friend who had been sort of acting as your agent at the time. She insisted that these riders were simply a formality. She assured you that they were usually only for something like a pool party scene that would have you wear a bikini in the background or something of the sort. In this case, it seemed, you were getting the chance to do a sex scene with the main fucking character. "This is a very unique situation; normally we would not ask this of you, but seeing as time is of the essence and we are super behind schedule, we're going to have to make an exception today. Sasha just had to go through a fucking existential crisis in the middle of this movie. Set us back three goddamn weeks. Fucking prima donna."

No lie, though, you weren't even mad, and to refuse such a golden goose of an opportunity would be insanity. So you shook away the shock and squared up your shoulders as you let the man lead you into the makeup department. They touched up your face for the camera, even though no close-ups were going to take place, and fit you with a pair of skin-toned pasties accompanied by matching underwear. 

After you were all dolled up to the assistant director's satisfaction, he unceremoniously dragged you the rest of the way to the set, opened a door, and tossed you into a room.

You tugged the silk robe tighter around your body and looked around warily; the scene had been made up to be like one of those super-cheesy-over-the-top romantic movies. An extravagant bed sat in the middle of the room surrounded by rose petals and candles, which made you a little nervous. It would be just your luck to accidentally knock one over and burn the whole place to the ground.

"Hello, who are you? This is a closed set." Sasha's deep voice cut through your internal monologue causing you to notice his presence and looked up at him. He was tall. Really, really tall. You swallowed thickly.

As he took a step towards you, you instinctually took a step back and then remembered your voice, "I'm Y/N. They told me to come in because Rachel is sick and they really needed someone now and apparently I looked the part…?"

"Of course she is." Sasha rolled his eyes, ignoring your rambling, and huffed in frustration while he dragged a hand through his hair. He wore a matching robe that was untied and hung open shamelessly. You tried not to stare and focused on his face instead. The look in his eye was wild and angry and almost sad but it quickly disappeared after Sasha blinked. You noticed how flawlessly he put back on the mask of a debonaire. "Well, let's get to it then."

With wave of a hand, he turned to shed his robe and you took that as your cue to do the same. When you spun back around, you saw Sasha staring at you for a little longer than what you imagined was normal. He took his time imprinting the image of your nearly nude body in his brain. You could hardly believe it was something to gawk at, not that you were ashamed or anything - you were rather fond of your body and appreciated it. But he was Sasha fucking Mann; he could have anyone he wanted. What made you so special?

"I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be doing here…" You spoke quietly and Sasha smiled at that, the first you've seen on his face in awhile.

It was a lovely sight.

"It's all very easy, you and I will act like we're having a very romantic affair and they are going to film through the walls." He came closer to you and you couldn't help but smirk a little at the funny cock sock he wore - it looked ridiculous. Clearing his throat, Sasha drew your attention back up to him. "Listen, Y/N, I know this might be a little strange and overwhelming but I promise to be nothing but respectful and professional. If you are in any way uncomfortable, please let me know and we will stop immediately. Okay?"

You couldn't help but nod dumbly, wasn't it just moments ago you were wishing Sasha would simply say hello to you? Now you were about to pretend to have sex with him…on camera.

"Are we - are we going to kiss?"

He chuckled and the sound went straight to your core. It was deep and throaty and you didn't realize sounds could be craved until that very moment. "Yes, some kissing and touching and perhaps a bit of pseudo-cunnilingus; all depends on how much time we have."

"Okay, let's start then." You hoped you didn't sound too eager but the way his smile stretched spoke volumes of your discretion. He called out 'action' but your focus was currently fixated on the way his chest hair traveled down all the way until it disappeared beneath his skin-colored underwear. 

If only you had an unrestricted view.

One of Sasha's impossibly large hands motioned you towards him. You had seen those hands before and appreciated them from the distance, but at this proximity, you carefully took mental notes of all your favorite details. Like how long his spider-like fingers were, how the thick veins protruded from the tops of his hands and ran up his forearms like tantalizing lightning strikes, how the ridges of his knuckles seemed to be chiseled out of stone, and how they all moved together like a symphony of skin that drew you in with a single beckoning curl. "Come here, Y/N."

This man had a magnetic pull that was too strong to resist, so you didn't even try, and easily stepped closer into his embrace. One of those aforementioned hands came up to cup your face. His thumb drew a line from your bottom lip down to the base of your throat and then back up to the curve of your chin. You barely comprehended his other hand clasping around yours and bringing it up to rest on his chest.

You couldn't help but smile while flexing your fingers against his solid body, delighting in the feel of his fur tickling your skin. He took notice of your intrigue and tightened his grip on your jaw, smiling when you inhaled sharply. 

Those long fingers reached across your waist, slightly digging into the supple flesh, and his thumb drew small circles along the hipbone.

Moving closer, you brought your other hand up and dove it into his thick expanse of hair. It was just as soft as you had imagined however many countless times before, but the sensation of feeling the silky locks sift through your fingers was far better than anything you could have made up. 

The butterflies in your belly were throwing a rager.

It may have been just your imagination, but you could have sworn that he leaned ever so slightly into your touch. That vulnerable look flashed again in his eyes but when he blinked, it was replaced by hunger. Those dark brown orbs stared right through your soul as Sasha slowly brought his lips down to meet yours.

This was not how you pictured your workday going and, if you were being perfectly honest, you figured it was all a dream of which you would be woken up from very soon. So why not enjoy it while it lasted? You ignored the blaring sirens that rang in your head that told you to be conscious of the dozen people watching your every move. Fuck 'em.

If they wanted a show, that's what they were going to get.

Throwing caution to the wind, you happily sank into the pillowy softness of his lips. His eyes were locked on your facial expressions and you gave up trying to maintain eye-contact the moment his velvet tongue teased open your lips.

There was no battle for dominance; you were willing and ply and perfectly content with letting him take the reins. His kisses were gentle at first but quickly grew deeper and more desperate.

The grip he had on your waist tightened considerably as he pulled you closer and then slid his hand up, spreading those fingers wide along the space between your shoulder blades. 

Sasha pulled his lips away from your mouth and began to drag them across to your neck, angling your head for better access. His breath was hot and heavy in your ear, "Arch your back a bit," his hand guided your body so that your breasts more firmly pressed up against his chest. He cooed, "Just like that, yes, good girl."

You couldn't help but moan at his words and it seemed to fuel the fire. He groaned loudly in return and devoured your mouth with a new fervor. 

Suddenly, both of his hands were cupping your ass and he lifted you up effortlessly. You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist as he took a few steps towards the bed.

"Watch out for the candles." You gasped at the movement and gripped his shoulders to steady yourself.

There was that damn chuckle again, "No need to, they're fake."

Before you could even think about his response, Sasha caught your lips again with another searing kiss. The second his tongue lapped against yours, all coherent thoughts escaped your mind.

Not breaking the kiss, he held your body against him as he delicately lowered the both of you onto the mattress. The weight of him tucked in-between your legs and pressed against you was utterly divine; you wished to never be bereft of the feeling again.

He grasped both of your wrists with one large hand and pinned them above your head. Your body writhed beneath his and caused a low growl to emanate from his chest. You felt the vibration travel across his skin and couldn't help but grin against his lips. Briefly, you wondered if this was at all affecting him the way it was you or if he was really that good of an actor.

Well, there certainly was a way you could find out.

At once, you gently sunk your teeth into his bottom lip, and, while using the leverage of his weight firmly pressing your hands above your head, you rolled your hips up to meet his. 

Sasha’s reaction did not disappoint.

"Oh, fuck." Those big beautiful brown eyes slid close as his body shuddered. He buried his face in the junction of your neck and panted against the sensitive skin. The evidence of his arousal was rather obvious now as you felt it pressed ardently against the inside of your thigh. He canted his hips and, with a grunt, gave a sharp thrust. "You're doing so very well."

Hearing your gasp, Sasha brought his lips back up to meet yours and the two of you began to set a pace. It became a blur of frantic grinding and clawing and teeth and skin and lips and tongue and sweat and saliva. He was everywhere at once; you could do nothing but hang on to the wrist that anchored you down and enjoy the ride.

You realized that the line of professionalism between the two of you had been long since crossed, but you could not have cared any less. The shocks that shot up your spine every time he rocked into you told you that you were completely and utterly fucked…or at least that was the sweet redemption you prayed for.

Sasha seemed to feel the same as he stroked your side all the way down to the curve of your ass and then brought his hand back up to palm your breast. 

Knowing that your panties were sopping wet and he was sliding his hardness along your slit made you let out a long moan to which he returned with another nice, hard thrust.

Instantly, you saw stars.

"Oh god, Sa-Sasha, I think…I think I'm going to-" You breathed the words in-between his relentless kisses but he paid no mind to your concern. If anything, it seemed to spur him on even more. 

The flimsy fabric between the two of you could barely even act as a barrier; his cock felt hard and hot as he rutted against you with abandon and you could feel the tension begin to boil over. You could focus on nothing besides the raw, wicked feeling of Sasha Mann enveloping your every sensation. Bright lights exploded in your field of vision as he sent you spiraling blissfully over the edge.

Your moans and sighs filled the room as your back arched, pressing yourself even closer to him. Sasha released your hands and instead curled an arm under your waist to hoist you up for a better angle. You immediately dragged your fingers across his scalp and held onto him as if your life depended on it. 

After a few more short, frantic thrusts, his whole body tensed and he pulled you tightly against him. Sasha groaned lowly in your ear and buried his face in the crook of your neck as he came.

All you could hear above your heart pounding was the mix of panting breaths as the two of you tried to maintain control of your breathing. 

After a moment, Sasha lifted his head to look you in the eye, and what you saw nearly broke your heart. His face was riddled with guilt.

"Y/N…" He started and then licked his lips, not quite knowing what to say, "I'm so sorry, I-"

The door to the room burst open and the two of you looked over with equally dazed expressions, feeling like two teenagers caught in the act. You had nearly forgotten where you were when you saw the assistant director standing there.

"Hey guys, we called cut like five minutes ago. Time to wrap up for the day." He said and gave you two a weird look.

"Oh, good. Well, thanks for letting us know, we'll be out in a minute." Sasha forced a smile and waved the other man away. The guy took that as his cue and closed the door behind him.

Awkward.

You turned your gaze back to the man above you, but he refused to meet your eye.

He began to ramble, but you were irritated with how he adamantly kept his head turned to the side. "I’m sorry, Y/N, this was completely inappropriate and I should have never let this get out of hand. I really fucked up and you have every right to -" 

You were having none of it and cut him off, reaching up to cup his cheek and gently forcing him to make eye-contact. The raw guilt and sadness that was written all over his beautiful face felt like a knife to your gut and you wanted nothing more than to make it go away.

"Hey, don't…it's okay, Sasha. There is no reason for you to apologize. I mean, I enjoyed that quite a lot." You smiled up at him and smoothed out some of the crinkles in his brow with the pad of your thumb, "Did you?"

He contemplated you quietly for a moment and his silence was starting to make you nervous. Did you read the situation wrong? Was this all a mistake? Were you going to be thrown off the set for violating the lead actor? A barrage of anxious thoughts and self-conscious questions ran through your mind at alarming speeds and every second of silence was torturous.

Until that warm beam of a smile broke across his face and it felt like sunshine on your heart.

"Yes, very much so." As he spoke, those big brown eyes searched yours for permission before he leaned down and delivered a sweet little kiss to your lips. Sasha tucked some hair behind your ear and cocked his head down at you, grinning easily, "Now how about we get cleaned up and I can take you out to dinner?"

"That sounds wonderful."

~~~

Taglist (just a few who I thought might be interested - message me if you want to be added or removed!) :

@festering-queen​ @vissidarte213​ @moony691​ @allis143​ @apocalypsenowish​ @torntaltos​ @hoefordarkness​ @thebeautyofdisorder​ @chrsitophwaltz​ @guardianbelle​ @gabesprincess​ @hiphop-gir​ @hyacinth-meadow​ @undead-notunreasonable​ 

#what can i say? #i like my men toxic and tragic and blessed with a heart-warming smile #sasha mann x reader #claes bang x reader #so funny story - while i was doing some research on this about #how sex scenes were made in hollywood #SPOILER ALERT - they're not sexy #but the article was interesting #and guess who was the director in the interview? #i already forgot her name but it was the same lady who directed THE AFFAIR #like ??????? #fucking wild! #and the best part was that while the other directors #weren't vibing with filming sex scenes ya girl was like hell yeAHHHHHHH let's do it #MISTER MANN #yum #anyways hope yall enjoy #perhaps there will be more #claes bang thirst squad #this was practice smut #it's been awhile since i've written any sauce #prolly not even that good #you can keep scrolling #okay i'm gonna go now byeeee

[iworshipkeanureeves]

Denim Dreams (Scott Favor x Reader)

A/N: This is My Own Private Idaho fanfiction requested by @jadore-keanu30​, I also managed to slip in a small part about Scott being ticklish as requested by anon. And maybe let’s imagine this is AU where Mike is not in love with Scott.

Summary: Your friend Mike introduces you to Scott Favor, but you hate him at first. Scott, however, persistently tries to get your attention.

Warnings: language, smut

Words: 2,7 K

Woken by a doorbell, you rolled out of bed grunting. You were never a morning person, so it made you internally scream at whoever was behind that door. To your surprise, it was Mike, and even though you were sort of friends, he would rarely show up at your doorstep, especially this early.

“You can come in, my mom’s at work,” you invited Mike in, but he seemed hesitant to go.

“I thought we could get breakfast,” Mike suggested, leaning on your door frame.

“Are you asking me on a date?” you chuckled teasing him, when you knew this was never going to be the case.

“You’re not exactly my type,” he replied giving you an impish smile, and you rolled your eyes tying your hair up in a messy bun.

“Just give me a minute to change,” you said still wearing pajama and disappeared into your room, leaving him at a doorstep.

------

Mike and you were supportive of each other, but you weren’t particularly that kind of friends who would hang out together much, so all of this was a surprise.

“What’s the occasion?” you wondered as you and Mike were entering a diner.

“I wanted to thank you for saving my ass yesterday,” he replied, with his eyes stuck to the ground, as usual.

In fact, you had saved Mike’s ass many times before. Working at a movie theater, you would help him hide in one of the auditoria, usually from his clients and sometimes from the cops too. You had an understanding of what Mike was doing to get by. Yet, you two had an agreement that he wouldn’t involve you in his business further than that.

After much consideration, you decided to get a burger, which wasn’t a typical breakfast food, but you had a strong craving and it was already after 11 AM, so technically it could have been almost considered lunch. Mike was silent as usual, munching on his waffles, occasionally lifting his eyes to stare into a quiet street, and you could never tell what he was thinking about.

Just as you were about to take a next bite, you sensed the seat next to you caving in. Suddenly, you were being accompanied by a tall dark haired guy. He and Mike exchanged “Hey”s, so you assumed he was probably one of Mike’s friends. You didn’t know him, and it felt weird how he sat next to you instead of Mike. Not that it made you uncomfortable, but you found it rude, especially because he was coarsely invading your private space.

“I’m Scott, I’m Mike’s…”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off, after hearing the name. You recognized him from Mike’s stories. “Mike has told me about you,” you added and went on with another bite of your heavenly delicious burger.

Even though Mike had spoken only favorably about Scott, from what you had heard, you couldn’t approve him. You didn’t like the fact that Scott was privileged with his trust funds and did what he did only for fun. You believed that he would leave Mike any day to get back to his prosperous life, and you knew how much it would hurt your friend. Therefore, Scott was your enemy, even if you hadn’t met him before.

“She’s Y/N,” Mike mumbled, after a long silent pause around the table, and you choked a little looking up to give him a discontent glance.

“What a chatty girl,” Scott hissed ironically, raising his hand for a waitress to come.

“She’s just not an early bird, it’s too soon for her chirps,” Mike intervened, trying to cushion the conversation after seeing your face all frowned.

If Scott really wanted to talk, you decided to go at him.

“Don’t you feel like a fraud here?” you spoke calmly. “This life you’re living for the moment, isn’t it just one of your whims, until you choose to move on to something better?”

You already knew the real answer, you were just curious to see what Scott saw in all of this.

“So just because I’m going to inherit my family funds, it means I can’t live the life I honestly enjoy? Does it always have to be connected to money?”

His emphasis was on enjoyment, and you knew well, it was a brittle, fleeting thing. Yeah, even if this was the life he truly fancied, it was for a short moment only, and that moment was about to end meaning that someone would get hurt. Your dear Mike, most probably.

After finishing the last few sips of your drink, you gather you stuff and were about to put your jacket on.

“Leaving so soon?” Scott scoffed with his obnoxious exhale, and you could almost feel your blood beginning to boil.

“Work,” you looked at him with a painfully fake smile. “Some of us here”, you said pointing between you and Mike, “have to actually earn a living, we have no rich daddies to run to.”

You looked at Scott, implying he should really move, but he seemed to enjoy annoying you and wasn’t going to go anywhere. Playing his game, you decided to just climb over him, sticking your tight-fitted ass right in front of his face, wiggling it a little to tease him even more. Approaching the door, you turned around to give Mike one last goodbye, proudly witnessing Scott’s hand in a pocket, adjusting his emerging boner.

------

It was your usual day at work operating cash register, putting up a smile to everyone and kindly accepting their complaints about high prices and lack of interesting movies, as if it was personally your fault that this theater was kind of shitty.

Just as you thought it couldn’t get worse, it surely did.

What the hell, you thought, looking at Scott entering the movie theater, weirdly alone and still not losing that annoying smile of his.

“Hey there,” Scott spoke, leaning with his elbow on top of your desk. It left you speechless for a moment, as you were astonished by his audacity to come visit you at work. “Come get a drink with me,” he demanded.

“Don’t you see I’m working?” you couldn’t believe his oblivion. How self-centered could he possibly be?

“What about later?”

“Later? Oh yeah, still working,” you smiled mockingly. Scott seemed to be getting a little frustrated and there were no words to describe how much you enjoyed it.

“Fine, then one ticket to Bird on a Wire,” Scott requested, reaching for his wallet.

“Magic word?” you kept taunting him, squeezing every bit of his patience, though he seemed to be holding on surprisingly well.

“Please?” he grunted, slipping you a few bills.

“Rich boy with no manners, what could be worse?” you grinned, shaking your head, handing him the ticket.

Scott only cracked a smile. “See you around,” he said leaving your desk.

You really hoped this wouldn’t be the case, but oh boy, he was not wrong.

------

Scott came in the next week to see Back to the Future III, no stupid flirting this time. He directly asked for the ticket, and even added please, learning from his mistakes. Of course he was nice, it was probably his tactics to get you go out with him, but you knew better than that.

The problem was Scott’s persistence, as he kept on coming every night, and you would chat a little more each time. It was usually about Mike, but other things too. There was something frightening about letting him too close and you would have to remind yourself to keep a distance.

Every time you wanted to change the topic, you could turn to movies, because at some point Scott had probably seen more of those than you had. He saw Total Recall, Dick Tracy, Robocop 2, Days of Thunder, Die Hard 2, well, basically everything the theater was screening for the moment.

Indeed everything.

It seemed like you were unintentionally seeing Scott more than you were seeing Mike, and it drove you crazy. You started asking around if he also came on nights when you weren’t working, hoping that maybe he had just discovered his passion for movies. But that wasn’t the case.

------

One night Scott showed up looking different. His hair was messy, jeans were tighter, and he had a denim jacket on. It was buttoned up, but you could see that he was wearing nothing underneath. You felt bad for finding this tempting, but you couldn’t help it. Anyway, you didn’t have to like Scott as a person to admit how sexy he actually was.

“Hey,” you greeted him. “I don’t think we have a movie that you haven’t seen yet,” you continued, getting rid of all the scorn that you used to have in your voice before. Honestly, you were tired of torturing him, and he genuinely seemed not that bad. At least better than you had expected him to be after the first day of meeting him at that diner.

“Well, then I’ll have to watch Die Hard again,” Scott giggled, suggesting that he didn’t mind it, he just enjoyed coming to the theater.

After handing Scott the ticket, you realized that there might be a day when he wouldn’t come anymore. Or even worse, he would bring someone with him, another girl maybe. You couldn’t believe your thoughts, and how upset it made you. It felt like you were betraying yourself, but there was nothing you could do.

Fuck. You were falling for him

------

It was getting late and the majority of tonight’s screenings had ended, you were washing your hands in the ladies room, thinking about what needed to be done before closing up for the day. You couldn’t believe it when you caught yourself looking in the mirror to adjust your make-up and a few stray hairs, thinking you might meet Scott again.

After all, this wasn’t a bad decision, because just as you were leaving the restroom, your eyes met Scott, who was inspecting movie posters in the empty hallway. He must have heard the door shut, because he immediately turned your way. Was he following you? Waiting for you? You couldn’t tell, but honestly, you didn’t care any longer. You mind was captured by his unbuttoned jacket, exposing his bare stomach, and a scar running along his abs line, leaving you powerless against him.  

Coming closer to meet Scott, you felt yourself giving in. He had already put too much time into all this, for it to be just another of his games. Scott was being nice to you, so why push him away? It’s not like you were going to marry him and live happily ever after, but giving him a chance would be something. Something you might even enjoy.  

Scott was inches away, glancing down into your eyes. His messy hair was casting shadow over his dark gaze, making you weak in your knees. After looking around, very timidly you ran your fingertips through his exposed scar, feeling his radiating skin. You wanted him so badly, you could feel the heat accumulating between your legs just thinking about it.

Felt like it was now or never, and you decided to go for it.

“Do you have a condom?” you whispered, glancing at him.

“What if I do?” Scott asked, trying to play cool, but you could see the surprise in his eyes.

“Then it’s your lucky day,” you giggled dragging him back to the ladies room, into one of the stalls.

“What if somebody catch us? Aren’t you going to lose your job?” Scott slowed down a little.

“I hate this job,” you smirked, closing the door and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer into a kiss.

You were delicate at first, slowly tasting his fleshy lips, your hands wandering along his sides, slowly reaching inside the jacket, your fingertips brushing his satin skin. Just as you reached Scott’s ribs, you felt his muscles tense and he bounced back a little with a giggle leaving his mouth.

“What a sensitive boy,” you smirked, pulling him closer again, invading his mouth with your tongue this time, writing your name inside his throat. Scott’s palms were on your ass, squeezing it tightly, his bulge pressing on your stomach, throbbing in his tight jeans.

Scott was slowly lifting the hem of your skirt, his hands getting closer to your heat, fidgeting with your skin, and then you felt his fingertips tucked inside your panties, dragging them down. His fingers were navigating through your folds, finding your swollen clit, and rubbing circles on it, while he was passionately kissing your lips.

An unexpected moan left your mouth and Scott had to cover it firmly with his palm, giving you a displeased stare. Finding this funny, you naughtily took two of Scott’s fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, hollowing your cheeks and gazing into his dark lustful eyes, while his other hand was skillfully working your clit. You wanted to scream at how good it felt.

As you were unzipping Scott’s jeans, you felt two of his fingers smoothly sliding inside of your throbbing pussy, slowly stretching you before you take him.

“You’re tight, baby, I want to prepare you a little bit,” he whispered, but the time wasn’t on your side, knowing the theater would be closing soon.

“We have to be quick,” you moaned, dragging his jeans down, and pushing him onto the covered seat. Scott’s thick fingers fell out of you and he took them in his mouth, slowly licking your juices off, maintaining a sultry eye contact. The sight gave you shivers, and the pressure in your lower stomach was getting unbearable.

“So sweet,” he said licking his lips, and went into his pocket to grab a silver packet.

While Scott was giving himself a few strokes and sliding a condom on, you stepped out of your panties that had been left hanging between your ankles and straddled him. Feeling his tip brushing against your slit, you helped him line with your entrance and lowered yourself gradually. He was really big and you felt flames in your walls, but Scott was patiently waiting for you to adjust, his fingers softly brushing your hair.

Getting more comfortable, you started moving faster, taking him all in, feeling his length hitting you in the right spot. Scott’s hands were on your hips keeping your balance, and his lips were placing wet kisses all over your neck. Every thrust was audible with your skin slapping against each other and your wet pussy splashing every time he went all the way in.

Scott had noticed that your thighs were getting tired, so he stood up with you hanging around him, your legs wrapped across his waist. With your back set against the wall, Scott drove into you with force, you could feel and hear his balls slapping your ass and you felt your release coming.

“Scott, I’m close, please just don’t stop,” you whimpered, with incoherent cries leaving your throat, as you felt him pushing even harder. Your abdomen cramped and you came undone with moans that were probably too loud, but you couldn’t care less.

Scott was still jamming into you vigorously, grunting as he came hard, stalling inside of you, with his throbbing cock pulsating against your walls. He was panting, as he looked up to you and smiled, “You’re good?” he asked, catching his breath. But you only managed to nod eagerly, as he was letting your feet to the ground, pulling out of you slowly.

With remaining tingles in your belly, you put your panties on and carefully peeked out to see if it was safe to leave. Leading the way, you held Scott’s hand and asked him to wait outside the restroom until you fixed your hair and make up, again. You wanted to hate yourself for this, but instead of feeling guilt or regret, you could only feel ecstasy in your veins. This was too good to let go.

As you were leaving the restroom, Scott greeted you with a wide grin, taking you by the hand. “I know this isn’t the exact order of how relationships go, but how about that drink now?” he asked modestly.

“Fine, just let me drop my uniform,” you smiled, rising on your toes to give him a little kiss and disappeared into the staff room.

#Scott Favor #keanu reeves #my own private idaho #scott favor x reader #scott favor fanfiction #scott favor smut #keanu reeves fanfiction #young keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #smut #keanu reeves smut #mopi #mopi fanfiction #keanu reeves x you #scott favor x you #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fic #scott favor fic #scott favor fanfic #keanu reeves imagine

[lov3nerdstuff]

Burn

*Loki x reader*

Parts: Drabble/Oneshot

Words: 1.7k

Summary: Loki witnesses an incident in the library that makes it all the harder for him to keep his feelings for you a secret. Until he can't any longer...

A.N.: This was part of Someone to you! I cut it out because it didn't fit the story anymore, then planned on using it in Being Human, but that also didn't really fit... So here it goes as a drabble! Enjoy 💗

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One late autumn night, it was still a few hours too early for your usual visit to Loki's room for your daily conversations about just everything, he was looking through the library in search of a new read that wouldn't bore his mind into oblivion. Sauntering through the aisles had become somewhat of a habit of his, the darkness of the room and the presence of so many impeccable pieces of literature had a calming effect on his constantly troubled mind. And it distracted him from the very strong and very irritating feelings he'd started to develop for you over the course of your friendship. Every night you came to visit, it would lead the god into a spiral of excitement, joy and irritation, for he just did not know what to make of these new and dangerously strong emotions for you.

He picked up a book with sixteenth century French poetry, flipping through the pages without actually looking at the words (he'd read them before anyway), when he heard the large doors being pushed open rather forcefully.

"Look, I know it's none of my business, but… it is my fucking business." Tony snapped, but Loki could see neither him nor the person he was talking to from behind the many aisles of books.

"It's really none of your business." You replied coldly, making Loki rise his eyebrows to himself in surprise. Maybe it wasn't the nicest thing to snoop on your conversation… but he was still the god of mischief after all.

"It is my business if it happens in my house!" Stark protested loudly and Loki inevitably rolled his eyes.

"This isn't your house, Tony. It's the Avengers base, and if you like it or not, he is one of you." Your voice sounded so harsh, so determined… unlike anything Loki had ever heard from you. To him, you were always so heartmeltingly kind, so fragile inside out that he didn't even know if you possessed what it took to be of serious assistance in battle.

"He is here because we need Thor, and that was the absolutely only reason I agreed to let him stay." Tony sighed. So this was about Loki himself, after all… "If it wasn't for Thor, Loki would be locked up in a cell in the basement. And he will be, the moment he lays a hand on you."

"You have absolutely no right to decide that… Don't forget who you are talking to, and be careful who you talk about." You hissed back at the man of iron, and Loki's heart did a strange and overwhelming fluttering thing that it hadn't ever done before. Was it odd that he found this harsher side of you irresistibly attractive?

"But you do? Is that why you're sneaking into his room every night? To hook up with him because no one else is available and…" Tony didn't get to talk on, his words disrupted by a muted, strangled noise that made Loki frown. Now he simply couldn't resist the temptation to see what was going on anymore, and he peaked around the corner of the bookshelf. What he saw indeed caused his lips to part and his eyes to widen inevitably.

"Don't EVER dare speaking to me like that again." Your voice echoed through the entire room as Stark floated motionlessly mid-air in between the bookshelves, unable to move or even speak. Yet, you hadn't even lifted a finger, nor spoken a word. You merely stood still, relaxed as ever, watching the man in front of you hanging in the open space. "You are one of the very few people in this world who know exactly who I am and what I am capable of and I expect you to behave accordingly. When I ask you to leave Loki alone, you will do it. When I ask you to stop mocking him, you will do it and when I ask you to trust my judgement, you will do it AT ONCE. Understood?"

With a loud thud, Stark dropped to the floor, breathing heavily.

"Yeah yeah, I got it. Reindeer Games is all yours." He replied, out of breath, and Loki's immediate thought was that he would give anything to be yours indeed.

"Don't call him that. He doesn't like it and thus I do not like it." You said calmly, moving further along the shelves, making Loki hide further back behind his own. What by all the gods had just happened?! You'd been introduced to him as an assistant for the team, someone to deal with all the PR and the sorts… someone mortal and without powers. Loki got the impression that he'd been lied to, very boldly and very WELL indeed. Otherwise he'd been able to tell something was off weeks ago… Lying to the god of lies was such a bold move that it made him smirk as his adoration for you grew infinitesimally.

"C'mon Y/n, I'm not stupid… You keep defending and protecting him, and you're the only one he talks to at all. He even keeps protecting you too, in his own, weird, Loki way. You two clearly are more alike than either of you cares to admit. I just don't get what draws you to him. He's evil, and very much dangerous and…" Stark rambled and you turned around to glare at him in a mere second, making him jump and apologize immediately. "Sorry! Sorry… please don't try to kill me again."

"I am dangerous as well, Tony. You better don't forget that." You replied easily, and a wave of pure power radiated off of you so intensely that even Loki could feel it. It made him shiver and his heart race like mad, while his entire being longed to be close to you. To make you his. Not because of your only now obvious mightiness, even though that was definitely hotter than should be allowed, but because of YOU. He'd been bewitched by you a long time ago, in a way he hadn't understood until now. But now, he saw that behind all the power, it was indeed you he craved. You that had gotten him addicted. Not power, not might… He'd fallen for you.

For another few minutes he kept hiding behind the bookshelf, listening in on the conversation, but found nothing to be remotely interesting about it anymore. Only once Stark excused himself and made his way out of the library, Loki paid more attention to his surroundings again… were you still here? He couldn't hear a thing and thus peaked around the corner of the aisle of shelves once more… nobody there.

"Snooping isn't very polite, now, is it?" Your calm voice spoke up from right behind him, making Loki jump horribly.

"Damn Y/n…" The words slipped past his lips before he could stop them as he spun around to face you. "I tend to stab people who scare me like this! Do you want to risk that?"

"I'm fairly sure you couldn't stab me even if you tried." You grinned at him smugly, standing way too close for Loki's heart to calm down even remotely. "Though I wish you didn't have to find out like this… Find out that I'm…"

"Absolutely incredible?" He finished your sentence with a smirk of his own.

"I meant to say a terrifying freak, but thanks for the flattery." You chuckled bitterly, averting your beautiful eyes from his.

"Why would you say that?" Loki's smirk vanished the second he saw the doubt, the disgust in your eyes, the same expression he had seen so many times in the mirror. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because it's true. I'm a monster... I can hurt people without blinking an eye, kill them with a single thought. Toy with their minds, hell, with all of reality like handful of fucking clay." You spat in utter disgust and Loki's heart clenched painfully. How could you, the most enchanting creature in creation say something so cruel about herself?

"I think that's amazing." He blurted out before he could stop himself. "You… You're amazing."

Your eyes shot up to meet his in an instant, filled with a new emotion Loki couldn't quite put his finger to. "You're not repelled by it? By me?"

"Never." He offered you a small smile, taking an involuntary step closer to you. "You've not seen true monsters, darling. But I have, and I can assure you that you're very far from that."

"So you're not at all scared by the fact that I could kill you right on the spot?" You rose an eyebrow at him, while your gaze stayed fixed on his so intensely that Loki felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine as every nerve within his body was on high alert.

"I've always been one to play with fire." He smirked down at you as he stood towering right in front of you now. Gods, you had long ago captured his mind and soul with your enchanting self, and obviously the rest of him was to follow now.

"Aren't you afraid to get burned?" You asked in a breath, a single finger reluctantly brushing against his hand.

"I'm a frost giant, darling. It takes one hell of a lot for me to burn." He chuckled deeply, capturing your hand in his before you could pull your fingers back. A small gasp escaped your lips as they parted at the contact, your eyes wide as they dug deep into his soul. For a second both of you remained silent, faces only inches apart as the tension threatened to suffocate Loki.

Finally your lips parted yet again to reveal the softest of words into the minimal distance between you. "Burn with me, Loki…"

In half of a heartbeat every doubt vanished from his body. He needed you to be his and his alone, and he needed to be yours in return. Half a heartbeat later he had you pinned against the large bookshelf behind your back, relishing the small gasp you let escape before his lips met yours in a kiss filled with the passion and the desire of multiple hundred sleepless nights. Filled with the promise of a shared eternity yet to come.

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General Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille @wegingerangelica @thidls12333 @tomstoobeautiful @dreary-skies-stuff @averyhill4445 @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @sadly-falling-through-wonderland @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @mygodisloki @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @createdfromblue @halszka-potter @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @inthemarvelvoid @from-hel-i-with-love @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81

If you'd like to be added to my general tag list, tell me in the comments 🥰✨ also, I'd love some feedback! 💚

#loki #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x you #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #loki of asgard #loki (marvel) #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason

[stirringwinds]

do you think alfred, arthur, francis, and matthew are ever like, affectionate to each other?

Definitely. But they’re all flawed relationships riven with problems, baggage and a hell lot of dysfunctional elements. They’re human that way. My interpretation: 

Arthur and Alfred/Matt: As I interpret him, Arthur is that kind of parent who is specifically not good at expressing affection healthily. He opts for the easier position of being an authoritative patriarch; which carries over to how he often treats Alfred and Matt pretty condescendingly. Too much of a Stiff Upper Lip too, at times. He is a product of his medieval upbringing (loads of wars, don’t trust anyone)—and he grew used to having a dysfunctional r/ship with family—his two brothers (scotland, wales) and sister (ireland) before that. Tangentially; this is exactly why I love constructing the CANZACs + Alfred as siblings: a parallel quartet of sorts. Arthur, I think, on some level always pays more attention to Alfred (whether it’s being infuriated about him or indulgent)—the firstborn, his eldest son. That translates into a degree of favouritism that is pretty damned hurtful for Matt in that Alfred really overshadows him easily even in his absence. 

Matthew and Alfred are a pair of siblings who are similar in certain ways, but divided partly by cultural differences—and Father. Alfred’s the one who up and left—Matt’s the son who is there and reliable. As I see it, Matthew has a fierce loyalty for family—stronger than Alfred, to a degree—and he gets so mad and infuriated at his brother at times but when it comes down to it, he’ll be there for him (and their two youngest siblings). Grimly so, but there. Alfred is the one who is really more of a loner (which may seem ironic, given what a gregarious extrovert he can be). He disowned the family name, after all. And later on, as his star rises: to be powerful is to be alone. Alfred is closer to Matthew than Arthur, and it’s probably one of the more positive relationships Alfred has—but it’s also riven by all kinds of insecurities (not just on Matthew’s side over Alfred being the favourite son, but also Alfred who is torn between his desire to stand apart and alone, while also craving companionship and attention. Alfred, as I headcanon, does get jealous of the CANZAC relationship even though of course, being apart is very much his choice too because he hates the idea of owing allegiance to Father™).

Arthur and Francis? Man. One of my otps. If there’s someone Arthur knows how to be more affectionate with, it’s definitely Francis, underneath all the obligatory sniping and refighting of the Hundred-Years-War, of course. Compared to Arthur, I see Francis as being more affectionate generally. He could be an asshole at times (As All Nations Are) but like in terms of being more willing to vocalise affection and show it? It comes more naturally to him than Arthur. 

#hetalia #aph america #aph england #aph canada #aph france #hetalia headcanons #francis and alfred: i need to think more on it #francis and matt is another father/son angle going on there as i see it #which i also need to think more on.

[solynaceawrites]

Wires [1] A Fresh Start

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-«« 

“Everybody has a geography that can be used for change; that is why we travel to far off places. Whether we know it or not, we need to renew ourselves in territories that are fresh and wild. We need to come home through the body of alien lands.”   — Joan Halifax

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Holding an aspirin tablet between her teeth, craving a drink, Lir listens to the clacking of the keyboard and blinks against the watery light streaming between the blinds. The office of Red Grave’s chief of police is smaller than the one in Fortuna, but neater: gone are the numerous potted plants, the maps and spreadsheets tacked to every available surface, the bookcases littered with little knick-knacks and family photographs. Those personal touches have been ignored in favor of something that is neat, organized, the little bit of warmth the room has coming from the soft bulb of the desk lamp and the mahogany of the furniture. It’s a bit of a relief, really. Sanctus had been old—too old, in the opinion of many—and took on a fatherly role that often left Lir feeling chafed and angry. At least here, going from first impressions, there will be no blurring of the line between duty and her personal life.

Seated with his back rod-straight is her new superior. A gold nameplate on the desk reads J.D. Morrison, and as he reads whatever file he’s pulled up on his monitor, Lir wonders what the initials stand for. James Dean is her first thought, and she finally crunches the aspirin, using the bitter flavor to smother her budding laughter. Sure, yeah, why not? Red Grave is a big city, and maybe Morrison’s parents had been so attached to the ill-fated actor that they’d saddled their son with his name. Certainly wouldn’t be the strangest thing she’s heard of.

“Detective Thorne,” Morrison says. He opens a drawer and pulls out a cigar, which he lights in clear disregard of the signs posted on the doors to the building. “Says here you transferred out for personal reasons.”

“Yessir.” The dull throbbing behind her temples grows at the scent of smoke. “Wanted a change of scenery.”

He coughs, clears his throat. “That so? Well, we’ve had people do it for less. Though your track record . . . You seem to have been on a fast path to promotion. ” Lir says nothing. The expectant silence stretches between them until it turns uncomfortable, but she’s not in any particular mood for niceties. She has an apartment to unpack and a bitch of a headache brewing and she wants to get this introduction over with as quickly as she can. Finally, Morrison sighs, silver plumes curling through the air. “Normally, you’d get a tour and time to sort out your desk, but we got a call this morning and it’s all hands on deck. You up to fieldwork?”

His shrewd gaze rephrases that question nicely. You willing to actually work? “Sure.”

Morrison studies her for a few seconds longer, then nods and stands up, raising his voice to a shout that makes her wince. “Officer Simmons!”

A young man with untidy white hair tucked messily under his cap stumbles in. “Yes, Chief?”

“Take Detective Thorne here to the alley.” Simmons’ face pales, and Morrison barks, “Now!”

“Yes, Chief!” Simmons snaps into a hasty salute before scurrying out of the office.

Lir gives one of her own to Morrison and follows, feeling a sort of bemused pity for the officer. She’d been there once, bright-eyed and eager to please, thinking that the law enforcement they showed on television, with its friendly camaraderie and kind-yet-stern chiefs, was the truth of it. Simmons must still be clinging to that, and she pops another aspirin into her mouth and chews it as they weave through the bullpen to the doors that lead outside.

Simmons doesn’t say much, though he opens her door when they reach the cruiser, flushing under her raised brow, and his uneasy quiet persists well into the ride. Definitely fresh, Lir thinks. Probably still spit shines his shoes in the morning and tells people he’s a cop with pride.The thought is bitter, and angry, and distasteful. Not that it really bothers her anymore; her mind has been particularly not tasty as of late.

They drive through cramped, winding streets that turn unexpectedly into one-ways and cross over themselves into a maze, closed in by the dingy buildings until it all feels more than a little claustrophobic. Red Grave City is coastal, just like Fortuna, but it’s much larger, with more crime, and rumors of rampant corruption and greased pockets give it an unsavory reputation with other law enforcement agencies. Yet in stark contrast, it’s as much of a tourist hotspot as Fortuna, its historic district and scenic parks and ritzy downtown drawing numerous crowds every year, regardless of the season. Lir takes all of it in, the cafès and hotels and convenience stores fighting for space, their colorful signs and banners almost garish against the dull brick, and it’s not until they pass into a more modern area with skyscrapers of steel and glass that she decides to ask where the hell Simmons is taking her to.

“What’s in this alley?”

Simmons jumps, the wheel jerking under his hands and sending them partially over the white lines. A minivan behind them lays on the horn, and Lir watches the driver raise his middle finger as he speeds by once Simmons has corrected. “Sorry, ma’am. Uh, Detective. I thought the Chief filled you in.”

“No.” She straightens. “Just that it’s serious.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he mumbles. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Yes.” The sight of his momentary pout sends irritation flaring hot and thick along her spine. Lir swallows it and rubs her temples. “Just crack the damn window.”

“Sure thing.” He does, and then reaches for a pack on the dash and. Drawing a cigarette from it, he says, “Call came in maybe twenty minutes before you showed up. Jane Doe found in an alley. She, uh . . . Well, it might be better for you to see for yourself, but it’s . . .” His fingers tremble as he tries to flick his lighter. Lir takes pity on him and pulls her own from her coat, and he smiles gratefully as she holds it to his cigarette, though his face is pallid and shiny with sweat. “First body?” At his nod, she sighs. “You’ve probably heard it gets easier.”

“Does it?” Simmons looks at her hopefully.

Lir snorts. “No. Eyes on the road.”

He retreats into a silence that’s not quite sullen, leaving her to her thoughts. Which mostly center around whether or not she’ll have time to find a new bar, one of the nice and private ones where no one wants to get friendly or gives a shit that she’s a cop, only that she pays her tab. When they arrive at the crime scene, Simmons stays in the car, looking ready to puke. Lir raps on the door once it’s closed and jerks her chin, signalling for him to head out, and she waits until he gives a shaky thumbs up and pulls away from the curb to head towards the yellow tape strung between a nightclub on one side and a sports bar on the other. An officer at the corner stops her until she shows her badge, then lifts the tape for her to step beneath. Immediately, she’s assaulted by the wet, mossy stench of death and viscera, and she takes the gloves and shoe covers and slides them on to buy herself time to adjust to it.

Cops swarm outside of the alley, keeping the rabid press contained. Inside, there’s only four others, three men and a woman, but Lir ignores them in favor of taking in all that she can before she’s forced to talk. Four dumpsters are present, two on each wall with the city’s waste disposal logo printed on the side; bits of trash and litter surround them: used condoms, soda cans, scraps of newspaper, all of the usual findings. There’s no spray paint graffiti, and a security camera faces out into the busy street. Maybe they’ll get something useful from it, though she doubts it. In her experience, they’re usually for show, just a weak-hearted attempt to prevent crime or a way to deter violence on the premises of businesses who host rowdy crowds.

The scenery accounted for, Lir turns her attention to the misshapen body in the center. Nude and pale, the woman is covered from chest to knee in red that’s gone black with time, her unseeing eyes staring at the sky with a terror that won’t disappear until the medical examiner closes them on the slab. She walks towards her, offal and iron making her throat constrict against nausea, and the woman kneeling next to the corpse looks up at her approach with a friendly nod. Dressed in a black jumpsuit, she’s no doubt the M.E., or someone affiliated with them, and she stays quiet as Lir kneels to fully take in the mutilation inflicted on the victim.

While the rest of her is untouched, her throat is slashed, and she’s been split open from rib to hip, the skin and muscle peeled away to reveal her organs beneath. As far as Lir can tell, nothing has been removed, but something has certainly been added: a pendant rests on top of her stomach, glistening wetly in the daylight. “I pulled it out,” the maybe-M.E. says. “Dante wanted to see it.”

“Dante?” The woman tilts her head, and Lir turns to see a man speaking quietly but furiously to two uniforms. “Uh-huh.”

“You must be the new detective. My name’s Trish.” Lir looks blankly at the hand she holds out before taking it, and Trish’s handshake is firm and cordial. “I’m the medical examiner, coroner, whatever you’d like to call me. Your stiffs go onto my slab, anyway.”

Her dry humor draws an unwilling smile from Lir. “Okay. Trish. I’m Lir, Detective Thorne, take your pick as long as it’s not Lily. What can you tell me about our Jane Doe?”

“Not much, other than the obvious.” Trish points to the wound. “This was more than likely done pre-mortem, going by the amount of blood—there wouldn’t be so much of it if she was already dead—and there are a couple of hesitation marks at her throat. But as to which of those killed her, and how long ago, why she didn’t fight back, I won’t know all of that until I take her out of here.”

Lir considers all of that. “Why do you think she didn’t resist?”

“No self-defense wounds on the hands or arms. At least, not that I can see.”

“Mm. Your guys get pictures?”

“Not yet.” Trish smiles wryly. “Chief wanted you to see it first. It’s why Dante’s giving those two a lashing, though he’s just shooting the messengers at this point.”

“Right.” Standing, Lir peels off her gloves and drops them into the bag Trish holds out to her. “Guess I should go save ‘em.”

“Good luck.”

Lir snorts as she turns. On first sight, she’s already unimpressed with the so-called Dante. He’s handsome, sure, model or film star handsome even, with his straight nose and strong jaw dusted with a five o’clock shadow, but he’s dressed like a detective from a noir novel: pinstripe trousers and a matching vest, a red tie, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, brown Oxfords polished to a dull shine. The only things that break the illusion that he’s stepped off the silver screen are the watch at his wrist, the gleaming handcuffs clipped to the back of his belt, the radio at his hip, and the Beretta in its holster next to the radio. She more than half expects him to pull out a flask from somewhere and take a swig mid-tirade, but the only time he pauses is to draw in a breath.

“—how the  hell  he expects us to carry out an investigation when he’s waiting on some country bumpkin—”     “Howdy,” Lir drawls.

He whirls on her so fiercely that she instinctively rests her hand on the butt of her own gun, her pulse roaring into her ears. Dante seems to catch himself, straightening to his full height to scowl down to her, and she’s startled by the pale, frozen blue of his eyes. “You Detective Thorne?”

She shrugs. “Country bumpkin works, too.”

Dante doesn’t have the grace to look embarrassed that she overheard him. “I’m Detective Redgrave. Yes, like the city, no, I don’t give a shit. You done lookin’ at the body?”

“Sure.”

“You hear that, Trish?” Dante hollers. “Take her out.”

Behind her, she hears the telltale metallic clatter of a gurney being placed on the ground, followed by a bit of huffing, the rasp of a zipper, and more heavy breathing and the rustling of fabric. “Are you going to give me the details or am I going to guess?”

He barks a laugh. “Morrison sent you out here blind? Doesn’t surprise me. Sure, I’ll humor you.” With a grin that’s more mocking than genuine, he says, “Call came in at 7:45. Some poor schmuck takin’ out the trash found our body and had the decency to lose his breakfast outside of the crime scene before he called. No witnesses so far, no clothing, no I.D., just—” “What about the camera?” Lir points over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Can’t get to it until the owner shows up, which, according to his staff could be anytime between noon and midnight.”

“Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Dante considers her, that cruel smile still playing at his lips. “You want to help?” She nods. “Go keep those fuckers away.”

“The press?” His expression doesn’t slip, and she shakes her head. “That’s uniform work. Send them to—”

“Either deal with them or go home. I don’t have time to hold your hand.”

Just like that, he turns away in a clear dismissal. Lir stares at his broad back, her head throbbing from the night before and the rage that’s been building since she stepped into Morrison’s office: rage at the incompetence of her former chief, at the glares that had followed her once she entered the precinct, at Simmons’ earnest naivety, at whoever butchered a woman and left her in an alley like she was no better than the trash already there, at Dante himself. It’s familiar, and choking, the same burning that’s festered within her all her life with every snide, “Are you sure you can handle that? Wouldn’t you rather answer phones and let the men handle the rest?”

Instead of giving into her urge to punch him in his smug mouth, she inhales deeply and holds it until spots dance in her vision. Then she exhales and heads towards the bright yellow tape and, beyond it, the reporters and photographers craning their necks to get a look at the violence that’s visited their city. Two steps, and cold fingers curl around her wrist, sending numbness crawling along her skin from where they touch. Lir closes her eyes, counting to ten, and then she pulls free. Only on the other side of the tape does she look back, and the sight of a woman in a red dress with pale hair staring back at her sadly, her lips moving soundlessly, is exactly what she expected.  Definitely getting a drink, she muses.

The reporters are no different from the ones Lir dealt with in Fortuna, just more persistent. She repeats the phrase, “No comment,” so many times that it begins to lose meaning to her, until a uniform comes to relieve her and she’s able to hail a taxi. But she doesn’t go back to work straight away. The cabbie drops her at a liquor store, waiting at the curb while she hurries in to buy a mini bottle of vodka and hurries back out, and she cracks it open and takes it like a shot, stowing the empty bottle in her pocket as they reach the precinct. Lir tips him double, then heads inside, and the bustling and noise is so at odds with the sullen silence of only hours ago that she nearly stops in her tracks. It’s only force of will that keeps her moving to the stairs in the back and up them, to where her desk sits just outside of Morrison’s office.

Dante is seated at the desk across from hers, a phone clamped between his face and shoulder while he writes on a notepad. Lir waits until he hangs up to say, “You’re an ass.”

“Been called worse,” he replies distractedly. “Trish’s report get in yet?”

“Not in my inbox. You got a problem with me?”

“No offense, sweetheart, but city crime is different from country crime.”

“I’m from Fortuna. Not the mountains.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure you dealt with a lot of purse snatching.”

Lir bristles. “Listen, jackass—”

“Go see Trish. See if she’s got a report yet or not.”

Her mouth hangs open. Then she stands, slamming her chair back into her desk loudly enough that Morrison looks out from his office with a frown, and stalks back the way she’d come, heading for the elevators. On one hand, she understands Dante’s shit attitude; she’s new to Red Grave, new to their force. On the other, she transferred from Homicide to Homicide, and there were enough of them in Fortuna that the sight of another isn’t going to send her running, and he’s a sour bastard with a chip on his shoulder who probably thinks he can do nothing wrong and his word is law. Which she’s only proving, she realizes, running his errands for him, and she jabs irritably at the button that will take her to the basement and the morgue. Next time he demands she do something, she’s going to tell him right where he can shove it. In the back of her mind, however, disappointment is bitter. So much, she thinks, for a fresh start.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante #dante sparda #dmc oc #lirael thorne #lir #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #wires #dmcweek #dmcweek2020 #holy shit i'm so nervous for this lol #i've been working on it for over a month

[anika-ann]

Heart Too Cold, but Friends of Gold - Pt.3

Dead Woman Walking

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 3590

Summary: Avenger!reader AU. Part 2 of Melting Hearts series. Part 1 HERE.

Facing an enemy who took your parents was a challenge. Facing your parents, who had lived under the impression you had died was a other story entirely...Let’s just say that it was too much to handle... but punching you could do.

Warnings: swearing, violence, violence caused by superpowers… (if that’s a thing…Ice Ice Baby)

Story Masterlist

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You knew you were not ready to see your parents ever again.

You sure as fuck were not ready to see them with a knife at their throats, no matter how much you tried to brace yourself.

All remnants of your cool, all the confidence you had gained when fighting your way through, it all turned into ash.

You were a helpless kid again – helpless and ill, finally seeing their mother after an endless procedure and all you wished for was to curl up in her arms and let her cradle you in her warm and safe embrace, where everything got better.

You felt the air being knocked out of you, tears prickling your eyes. Your dad was right next to her, a huge man holding him in some sort of a headlock, blade on his throat. His expression was one of horror; the fact you might have been the true source of his fear stung your gut sharper than you anticipated.

Your mother was simply crying, watching you with mixture of healthy respect, fear and hesitant hope. It broke you even when you knew she could never ever recognize you like this.

You sprang in her direction first, but a man waiting behind the door on your left surprised you, lunging after you. You shushed the yelp and the pissed off ‘sloppy’ that sounded in your head and caught his arm on you, flipping him over, knocking him unconscious with your fist covered in ice.

The one appearing right behind him ended up with his feet frozen to the floor by two thick columns of ice, your sole in his abdomen. Also, his hand received a bit of a frostbite when he aimed his gun at you. And then you punched him in his face twice. He fell down.

“If I didn’t have my hands full, I would clap,” a sly voice commented, sending icy shivers down your spine.

You snapped your head to him, your ponytail flying with the swift movement.

Oh how you had learnt to hate and despise that voice in just few hours. Had you had fallen asleep during the time between receiving the phone call and your arrival here, you would have heard him in your nightmares.

You barely made a move towards him when the click of his tongue stopped you, his gaze focused on the blade of your mother’s skin. You froze in the middle of your step.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, Snowflake.”

Your nails dug into your palm at the addressing, the action followed by his cheeky smile. God how much you craved for freezing that smile and punching all of his teeth out.

“Let them go,” you hissed, not caring if you sounded cliché or not.

He seemed to consider for long seconds, his gaze getting distant.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” he replied in the end, meeting your eyes again.

You would swear you saw a flash of madness in them; your heart stopped at that. Mad people had nothing to lose. Who had nothing to lose did whatever they wanted.

You gulped. How do you get through to a psychopath?

You had no better plan than offering yourself in exchange – you were not afraid of showing your weakness, he had already known it after all, he had used it to get you here.

“Please. You don’t have to hurt them. You got my attention. I’m here. These people are innocent,” you pleaded in shaky voice, glancing at your parents’ faces again.

Their expressions twisted with fear made you want to cry and curl up in a ball.

Here I am, you fucking bastard. Here I am, so let them go. For god’s sake, just let them go. I was supposed to die years ago and if not that, than at least months ago. I am in relative peace with my death and so are they. But not with their own.

They were both crying, eyes puffy and their features worn. It seemed like the exhaustion they were used to was nothing compared to this, this time not settled into their bones; no, the weariness was now eating their bones like a disease.

Your mother was a kindergarten teacher and your dad was an accountant, after all. They were not built for this shit. They were never meant to go through this. They didn’t deserve it. And yet, here they were. Because of you. And because of him.

“Just one ‘please’? I would expect more from you…. After all, their lives should matter to you greatly. Don’t you think, Madam?” he whispered to your mom’s ear and your hand jerked their way. “Oh come on, don’t be stupid. She’ll be dead before you even try. That’s not how this works. Beg.”

The hate coiling in your abdomen mingled with fear. The instinct of being a good girl and do as he asked so your parents, the people you loved endlessly, wouldn’t be harmed any further, and the instinct of a fighter developed during your moths as an Avenger were in a furious battle… and no one was winning.

Except Michaels.

“Get on your knees. And beg.”

Your jaw clenched as he beckoned to his friend; the man added a bit of a pressure and suddenly the thinnest trickle of blood went down, sinking into your father’s collar. He wore a blue shirt – you didn’t think this could get any more ironic. You obediently sunk to your knees, your eyes locked with his.

The floor around you covered in black ice in perfect circle without you intending it. You ignored it and sought out their captor again. “Please. Please, don’t hurt them. I’m begging you.”

His lips spread in a smile. “Not bad, sweet-cheeks. Now, why don’t you take the eye-mask off? So they know why they’re gonna die?”

You glanced at your mother’s pale face and that was enough to bring tears into your eyes. Your hands shook as you placed them both on the edges of your mask, slowly, oh so slowly stripping it.

You raised your gaze hesitantly, not even faking the reluctance – you just gave up one barrier that was separating your true identity from your Avenger persona. Today, you had given your money on two more things – the voice disguiser and the skin-thin mask S.H.I.E.L.D. was using to conceal someone’s face so no one could suspect a thing. It was an incredible technology that worked all too well.

Unless your enemies knew for a fact that this was not what you looked like.

The man in charge clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“Aww, Frosty, it’s cute that you think you can hide. But you’re forgetting I know who you are. Some fancy tech won’t fool me. Take off your mask… or she dies.”

He pressed the knife tighter to your mom’s skin and you would swear your heart stopped. Your hands instinctively went to prop up, so you could lunge forward; a warning tsk made you change your mind effectively.

“Uh-huh. Stay where you are and. Take. Off. Your. Fucking. Mask.”

“She’s not wearing a mask! What are you talking about?” your mother cried out, tears rolling down her cheeks and you swore that moment that you would fucking gut that bastard who had done this to her.

“Oh she is. Come on. Do I need to start a countdown?” he mocked you.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered, icy fire sneaking through your body, filling your veins with unknown feeling as well as the room.

The walls started covering in thin ice too – you weren’t aware of doing it, it must have been a subconscious reaction of your powers to your mental state. You were losing control, but you didn’t give a fuck. You had no intention to spare this worm, the poor excuse for a human being.

“To make a show. But don’t worry, you’re gonna die too. I vowed to find a soft spot of each Avenger to detach them from the team and make them an easy target to kill… you were the easiest one really. Leaving the people you care about so much unprotected…” he teased you slyly and the unknown feeling suddenly blossomed into something much more familiar, only with yet unrecognized intensity.

Anger. Rage.

“You fucking bastard-“

“Ouch. You kiss your mother with that mouth?” That fucker! You gritted your teeth, your hands balling into tight fists against the floor. “I’m gonna slit her throat unless you reveal yourself in three…”

You were sure as hell that he wouldn’t hesitate to do as he was promising, even if it meant he wouldn’t get his big revelation – he was insane like that, no doubt.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling your tears running down the synthetic material imitating your skin. You held out one of your hands, asking for a moment, but you didn’t expect to get any.

“…two…”

You turned off the voice disguiser first – if you were about to reveal your face, there was no point in it. Then you brought your other hand to the levelled button to deactivate the advanced tech and started stripping it only a fraction of second later after pushing at the right place. You scrambled the thin film off your face, letting it fall.

You heard the astonished gasps, the breath of your name on your parent’s lips as loud as if they were screaming and you swallowed more tears that begged for release. You couldn’t make yourself to meet anyone’s eyes.

“That’s it, pretty girl. It’s a shame to hide a face like that, ain’t it?”

You breathed in sharply when you saw the steam coming out of his mouth peripherally. The temperature dropped significantly – your doing again, another sign of the powers acting on their own.

You lifted your gaze, piercing his eyes with yours with determination.

“Oh-ho, sweet. Never saw you change the colour of your eyes before. I guess the winter is coming.”

You had no fucking idea what he was talking about. Heavy snowflakes started falling down, but there was no gentleness in it – no, cold wind blew them, making them swirl around madly, making everyone in the room squint; except you. You felt something bubble inside you, something fighting its way out, crawling out and you had no need to try to shush it or push it back.

It made you feel strong. It made feel powerful enough to take these sons of bitches out.

“Whoa, now that’s new, Frosty-frost. What else you’ve got?” he mocked you with a victorious grin, his disgusting smugness in a stark contrast to your mother’s pale face.

You let go – you let go completely, allowing the burning energy to get loose. Your arms flew up in front of you intuitively as you jumped to your feet.

The sudden gust of wind threw the two remaining thugs against a wall, while your parents forms remained steady for some inexplicable reason – it was as if the energy acted instinctively again, its rage only focused on the people who had done you wrong.

The thug who had been holding your father’s head was knocked out by the blast; he slid down the icy wall as a rag doll, leaving a thin smudge of blood on its way, the ice cracked on the point of impact.

Michaels scrambled up, trying to catch his breath; behind him, the ice was broken as well. He chuckled a bit shakily, wiping blood from his fingertips to his trousers.

“Gotta admit, didn’t see that coming, Ice Queen.”

You walked to him slowly, having all the time in the world – he was barely standing and you felt the sprouts of energy at your hands that were just begging you to release them. So you did.

His body slammed against the wall once again, this time staying that way – invisible force was keeping him on place and he was stretching his neck so he could watch you approach.

“Why did you do this? The truth,” you demanded flatly, taking your time when erasing the distance between the two of you. You passed by your parents without a word; you had a monster to deal with now.

Michaels’ eyebrow rose – the gesture looked ridiculous since he still had to keep his eyes narrowed to see anything at all as the snowflakes was blowing into his face constantly.

“Big fan of family gathe-“

Your hand shot up to grab his throat before he could finish. He gasped for air.

“Tell. Me.”

Despite fighting for air and his limbs pinned to the wall, he grinned. “Look who’s— showing-- their true--- colours.”

You clenched your jaw and pressed tighter – you could feel your palm burning cold, itching to give a frostbite to his fucking vocal cords. The power was dizzying. You had never felt so strong and you were thanking heavens or hell – you didn’t care whose doing that was – for being able to fight like this now.

A solid weight of an icicle formed in your free hand unwittingly, rising to his neck.

You could see his eyes widen in shock before he composed his expression – you didn’t believe his fake bravery, you knew he was scared and it only fuelled the flame in you. You were the superior one. And this man needed a punishment.

“Frostbite— more like-- Killer Frost,” he choked out, tears rolling down his cheeks as he was fighting for air. His lips were slowly turning blue; you found it more interesting than his words, because he wasn’t saying what you wanted to hear. In fact, something stung your guts at the addressing, making your twitch, that something that felt important. But it wasn’t. “Why don’t--- you show---- mommy and dad-“

The sting was sharper this time. Something twisted your insides, something you couldn’t recognize, an inner voice whispering you to stop this madness; the freaking snowstorm in the room, the wind, the ice, the icy fire on your hands. The voice was shushed by a new rush of anger as you saw the man’s cocky smile, only growing when his hazy gaze looked behind you.

“-daddy— what a mur-murderer-- you are. Not your--- your first time---- ‘fter all.”

You gripped your weapon tighter and squeezed your eyes shut as the voice in your head got louder.

Spare him.

NO.

“Shut up,” you strained through your teeth, forcing yourself to look at him, to remember how much you hated him for what he had done and had tried to do. How much he deserved to die.

“ ’m sure Cap— ‘d be proud-- too.”

The mention of Steve did it.

You roared, burying the icicle in his body – it sank into his muscles as if he was made of butter, instantly covering in crimson liquid.

It was the most satisfying thing you had even done.

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Part 4

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​, @murdermornings​, @elisaa-shelby​ @ask-hellbent-tweek @cxptain, @kallafrench​, @smilexcaptainx​

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Thank you for reading! If anyone happens to want in or out of tags for Steve or this story, lemme know!

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #avenger reader #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x you #reader insert #mcu #captain america #steve roger #avengers #captain america fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #avengers fanfic #heart too cold but friends of gold #anika ann

[bellemorte180]

Wanderlust Chapter Six

Mystic Falls made Klaus feel as though he was on the set of some random Hallmark Movie that wanted to glorify the southern United States. There was nothing wrong with the town specifically but everything that surrounded it felt that a carefully crafted production. Having met Carol Lockwood, Klaus was not surprised that the woman who ran the town would be equally as superficial as the town itself. While it was peaceful and charming, the forest that surrounded it added character, Klaus could not help but see darkness lurking in every corner.

Although, if Klaus was being honest with himself, that could be due to his cynical nature rather than the town itself. Then again, the town did have similarities to the small English village he had grown up in. Perhaps that was the reason why small towns held such a distaste for him. The exterior always seemed to be ideal and yet Klaus was very much aware about what went on behind closed doors.

Despite all his reservations on small towns, he had to admit that most held hidden gems that big cities lacked. Fell’s Creamery was one of them. Marcel was a man with a sweet tooth and while the easiest place to get good take out was the Mystic Grill, it did not take long for Marcel to scope out the ice cream parlor; turning up at the station or their motel after hours with a milkshake. So, as he strolled through the town square with Caroline, allowing her to sort out her thoughts, and she mentioned she was craving ice cream, Klaus took her to the only place he knew in town.

He had her sit down at one of the outdoor seating areas, that had a perfect view inside the parlor and went inside to order the vanilla milkshake with whipped cream and cherry on top that she requested; ordering a coffee flavored one for himself. His eyes never left Caroline, who waited patiently outside; desperately trying to ignore the stares she was getting as the townspeople passed her. With milkshakes in hand, Klaus stepped out into the warm June air and sat down across from Caroline.

“I keep asking myself, why me?” Caroline whispered. “You know, that was something I asked myself lot when I was in high school. Everyone always wanted Elena and yet I tried so hard. I was head cheer captain and yet Elena always got the praise. I became Miss Mystic Falls and yet Elena was the one with the dashing date that everyone gushed over. It always felt that Elena had one leg up over me. I was everyone’s back up when they could not have her. I was Bonnie’s Elena backup for the longest time. I was Matt’s homecoming date sophomore year because Elena dumped him. I was Damon’s punching bag because Elena was dating Stefan. Hell, the only person who ever seemed interested in me was Tyler and we all saw how that ended. And now the one time I actively don’t want someone’s attention, they seem fixated on me.”

“The man who did this is sick, Caroline. His obsession has nothing to do with you but everything to do with his fixation with staying in Mystic Falls.” Klaus whispered, watching her take a long sip of her milkshake. “He was looking for anyone who would not stay. He feels like this town is his home and those living here belong to him. The mere thought of someone wanting to leave, it causes him to do these awful things in order to keep what he views as his close.” Klaus leaned in closely and took her hand into his. “But I want you understand something. You do not belong to him. Nothing you did caused this. You are beautiful, brave and so full of light that even a monster like him cannot stamp out.”

“Thank you.” Caroline’s voice was low as she peeked at him slowly through her long lashes. Their hands were still linked together; a habit that the both of them was forming but one that neither were willing to break. “It seems like you have this ability to understand him. To understand why he does this.”

“I’ve been at this job for a long time.”

“And yet you’re planning on leaving?” Caroline asked and Klaus just nodded. He sipped at his own milkshake and gazed around the town; not willing to meet Caroline’s eyes. “You told me that you stuck with this job because you were punishing yourself. Why? What could be so bad that you do a job so horrible in order to punish yourself.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” Caroline gave him a small smile. He knew that she was trying to distract herself from the fact that she was being stalked by a man who wanted to eventually kill her; but he could tell that was genuinely curious about him. Klaus found that he wanted to confess his darkest secrets to her; a feeling he rarely had. The only person who he shared such confidences was Marcel and that was due to long hours on the job together.

“I told you when I was fifteen that I almost died.” Caroline nodded, remembering his words from the day before. “I…there was an altercation I was involved in. I was beaten very severely; to the point that I almost died. I did not realize what happened until days later when I woke up in the hospital.”

“What happened to the person who did this to you?”

“He is serving life in prison. He thought he killed me. It came as a nasty shock when the detectives told him that I was alive.” Klaus chuckled with a humorless tone. “I blamed myself for a long time. He ruined so many lives that I thought because his rage was directed at me, that it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t.” Caroline gave him a tight squeeze of his hand. She knew that there was so much to the story that she did not know. She would not press him for more than he was willing to give but she wanted him to know that he could trust her.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“The day your case came across my desk, I was going to turn in my resignation. Then I saw your picture and your bright blue eyes changed my mind. One more case.” Caroline’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly; her eyes sending him looks of gratitude that Klaus wondered if he deserved. “And I’m thankful I choose to take it.”

“Me too.” Caroline smiled at him; and then looked at their clasped hands. Her cheeks flushed red slightly and it was a beautiful thing to see. In that moment, Caroline did not seem hurt or scared, but instead there was a spark of something in her eyes. Something about Caroline made him want to be better and do better. “If we’re sharing secrets, can I tell you one?”

“Of course.” Klaus echoed her earlier words to her. He smiled lightly as he watched Caroline bit her lip, wavering back and forth with the decision in her head. Klaus was eager to hear what she would have to tell him. He wanted to know every ounce of her that it consumed his mind. Klaus wanted to spend every waking moment he had in this town with her but knew that he couldn’t; not if he wanted to keep her safe.

“I’m glad you came.” The words came out in a whisper and the tint of her cheeks burned red again. “That day you showed up at my hospital room, you made me feel safe. You give me hope that I’m not going to die. After everything with Damon and Tyler and with what happened, I was sitting in that hospital wondering if there were any decent men in the world. And then you came in and held me. When you say you will find him, I believe you. There is something about you that makes me believe that you’re trustworthy.” She gripped his hand tighter. “Is it wrong that I just want to be around you? Not just because you make me feel safe, but because you’re you?”

“No.” Klaus said in a low voice, terrified that it would break. Hearing her confess that she trusts him and has feelings for him made him feel lighter than he had in months. Her smile and the just joy she brought to a room, even in her darkest moments of despair, made Klaus as though he was breathing for the first time after drowning in the deepest parts of the ocean. “Because I feel it too.”

Suddenly the rest of Mystic Falls fell away. Klaus could no longer hear the chatter of the families beside them and the laughter from the other patrons. All he could feel was the grip of Caroline’s hand and the look of complete trust on her face consumed him. He thought back to the moment they almost kissed and he knew that if there was not a table between them and prying eyes around them, Klaus would pour every ounce of his desire into her.

“Caroline!” The pair jumped apart and they look up to see Elena walking towards them. Klaus felt Caroline tense at the sight of her old friend. Klaus pulled his hands away from Caroline’s and leaned back into the uncomfortable iron chair as Elena approached them. “Hey. How are you?”

“I’ve been better.” Caroline bit out and Elena nodded, running her hands through her long brown hair. Out of habit, Klaus began to examine her. She was thin and lanky; her long brown hair loose around her shoulders. Her clothes were a pair of blue scrubs and a tank top that he assumes she wore under a scrub top. She must have come back from her residency at the training hospital at Whitmore. “What do you need?”

“Can we talk?”

“I’m really not up for that right now Elena.” Caroline’s eyes shot towards Klaus. Elena spied him for the first time and nodded, probably drawing the conclusion that Caroline was discussing what had happened. While Elena would not be wrong, Klaus knew that so much more was happening between them; but he had no desire to share that moment with Elena, having little to no respect for the woman. “I just need time.”

“Right. Of course.” Elena swallowed; nodding. Klaus could tell that he last thing she wanted was to accept Caroline’s position of time. She wanted to speak with Caroline, not because she was concerned about her friend but because she needed forgiveness for herself. “I’m staying with Aunt Jenna and Uncle Alaric right now. If you want to talk, that’s where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.” Caroline turned her gaze from Elena to Klaus. “Can you take me back to the police station?” Klaus gave Caroline a simple nod and the two of them stood, grabbing their milkshakes as they went. Klaus lead her from the creamery, and he could not help but look over his shoulder. Elena had sat down at their table, with her head bent and shaking. It wasn’t until later that night, as Klaus laid in his uncomfortable motel room bed, that he wondered what would cause a friend to betray another in such a manner. Especially to someone like Caroline.

The following morning, Sean O’Connell arrived in Mystic Falls to claim the body of his sister. While both Marcel and Klaus had spoken to him over the phone, neither one expected him to come to town until the investigation was over. However, he stated that he needed to see his sister and neither man could fault him for that.

He was a clergyman with tall with broad shoulders, blonde hair and sad blue eyes that tore at Klaus. His appearance seemed gaunt and haggard; as though he had not eaten in weeks. As Sean stood over the body of his sister, Klaus could see something break in the man. Cami laid on a metal table, her blonde hair slick back and was lifeless. Her body was cold, eyes shut, and her skin had a blueish tint to it from the morgue’s freezer.

“Cami. What happened to you?” Sean’s voice broke, tears slipping down his cheeks. He leaned forward and kissed his sister on the forehead. Klaus placed his hand on his shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze. He led Sean out of the morgues room, knowing that they couldn’t linger there much longer. Out in the morgue’s hallway, Sean’s knees gave out and his back hit the wall; he slid down to the ground, unable to go any further.

Klaus walked to Sean’s other side and sank down beside him; letting the man’s tears fall. Klaus could only sympathize with Sean’s grief. He could not imagine what it would be like to gaze upon the dead body of his sister. Klaus’s mind wandered to Rebekah and the mere thought of seeing her cold dead body on a slab, nothing more than an empty shell, tore at his soul. If Sean needed to stay on that cold tile floor for a moment or several, Klaus would sit there with him.

“Tell me about Cami.” Klaus asked in a gentle voice. There was not much he could be able to learn from Sean that he didn’t already know, since Sean had not left Boston in years, but he could see the need for Sean to speak to someone; anyone. “What was she like?”

“Self-righteous but deep down, she was a good person.” Sean snorted and Klaus was taken aback slightly. “I loved my sister dearly, but she could be hard to be around sometimes. Cami always wanted to psychoanalyze people. She wanted to fix them, even though I told her that some people do not need fixing. She was studying to be a psychologist and was just finishing up medical school. She was coming to Boston to celebrate.” Sean shook his head. “I’m sorry, you must think me awful for describing my sister in such a way.”

“Not at all. I have a little sister who is best dealt with in small doses.” Klaus gave him a warm smiled. “Do you know why she drove through Mystic Falls?” Klaus asked, thinking about the route to Boston. While Cami would have had to drive through Virginia, but Mystic Falls was slightly out of the way. “Why did she not just fly?”

“I tried to convince her too, but she wanted to make a trip out of it. She made a list of small towns she wanted to see along the way.” He shook his head. “We grew up in New Orleans and she wanted to settle somewhere less…. busy? I guess. I tried to convince her to move to Boston, but she said she wanted the small-town life. I guess Mystic Falls was on her list to check out.”

“Did you know she would be stopping here?”

“No. I should have asked what towns she was looking at, but I didn’t.” Sean rested his head against the wall and Klaus could see the self-loathing at work behind his sunken face. “When she didn’t arrive in Boston on the day she said she would, I must have called her a thousand times. Her phone was shut off. I filed the missing person’s report but something inside me knew that she was gone. I prayed and prayed for her safety, but it just wasn’t enough. I should have called her sooner. Maybe she would still be alive.”

“Listen to me. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do this. You are not responsible for your sister’s death.”

“Who is?”

“We are working on it.” Sean nodded darkly and huffed in irritation. His jaw clenched and Klaus could see the anger taking root. Sean was looking for someone to blame. Klaus could not blame him; time after time, families where left with no answers no one to aim their anger towards. “I promise you that I am doing everything I can to find who hurt Cami.”

“And what if it was your sister?”

“Honestly?” Klaus asked and Sean nodded. He studied the other man; the man whose belief in a higher power was shaken and may never be repaired. Klaus could not help but compare Sean with Pastor Young. The first was broken beyond repair at the loss of his sister while the latter pretended as though April had stopped being his daughter long before her death. “I’d probably kill the bastard.”

“Right.” Sean stated absentmindedly. “When can I take her home? I want to give her a proper service. I think she would like to be buried in the family plot in New Orleans. Next to our parents and our uncle. She was always close with them.”

“When we finish up our investigation you can take Cami home.” It wasn’t much but there was nothing else Klaus could do. Technically, Cami’s body was evidence and until the killer was taken into custody, Cami had to remain in FBI custody. If the case went cold, something Klaus would ensure never happened, Cami would be released to Sean after a period of a few weeks. However, Klaus made a mental note that he was not leaving Mystic Falls until he solved it.

Sean nodded and stood from the floor. Klaus shook his hand and lead him out of the morgue’s separate entrance that was in the basement of the police station. He provided Sean with some general directions on where he could find lodging for the night and headed back upstairs into the main lobby. As he climbed the stairs, Klaus’s mind was preoccupied with Sean’s reaction to seeing Cami and Klaus couldn’t help but imagine Rebekah; knowing full well that his sister’s imagined dead body would haunt his dreams, especially with the knowledge of what Cami and the rest of the victims suffered, both before and after death.

He stopped at the kitchenette to grab a mug of bad coffee before stepping into the conference room, only to see Marcel flipping through a paper file excitingly. Marcel’s head popped up and a wide smile took over his face. He slid the file across the table at Klaus who caught it easily. A picture of a man that Klaus had never seen was staring back at him. He was middle aged with sandy brown hair, grey eyes and a charming smile.

“Drink up quickly. Slater just set over something interesting.” Marcel told him, almost seeming giddy at the prospect. “Klaus, meet Alaric Saltzman.”

“Who?”

“Local history teacher.” Marcel replied, watching Klaus flip through his file. “On the surface nothing about him seems out of the ordinary. Moved to town about twelve ago from North Carolina. He went to Duke University and taught history at a local high school for a while before moving here. He met and married a woman by the name of Jenna Sommers. Like I said, on the surface, nothing seems out of the ordinary.”

“The catch?”

“This.” Marcel then handed him a completely separate file; a picture of a dark-haired woman and dark eyes. The name on the missing person’s report attached to the file named her Isobel Fleming. It appears that she had been missing for over eight years and was presumed dead. “That is Alaric’s Saltzman’s first wife.”

“She went missing. Her body was never found?” Klaus began flipping through the file. He looked at the date of the death certificate that correlated with Alaric’s move to Mystic Falls. The file listed several restraining orders that Isobel put against Alaric prior to their marriage, all of which were dropped; a fact that Klaus thought normal given the fact that she married him afterward. The police considered Alaric as a suspect in his wife’s disappearance but there was never enough evidence to convict him. “It’s a long shot but looks like we need to go and have a discussion with Mr. Saltzman.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Marcel turned towards the door while Klaus downed the remaining of his coffee. Both Marcel and Klaus left the police station quickly, jumping into the SUV and heading towards the more suburban area of Mystic Falls. “So, recap. What do we have so far?” “Well, the killer likes female victims who either have left Mystic Falls or have a tendency to do so. He holds the victims for a period of three or so months before strangling them, defiling the body and burying them at the Falls.” Klaus reiterated as his gaze was watching the scenery pass by him. “He holds them at the Lockwood cellar, handcuffing them to the bars and keeping them sedated with Dilaudid.”

“The Lockwood cellar thing bothers me.” Marcel mentioned, stopping at a stop sign before pulling through the empty street. “He holds them down there but not many people know of them, at least if Tyler Lockwood is to be believed.” Marcel shook his head. “Spoke to the girlfriend by the way. She was with Lockwood all night at the manor. His mother also confirmed that alibi.”

“Are they trustworthy?”

“Probably not.” Marcel muttered, shaking his head. “Both Damon and Tyler had alibis for the night Caroline went missing and neither one of them have access to medical drugs, at least legally.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “We both agree that the killer does not have medical knowledge based on the state of the track marks on the victim’s arms. However, how would he know the dosage of what to give the victims without killing them?”

“I don’t know.” Klaus scowled. It was not something he had considered before. Dilaudid was a drug that if given improperly, could easily kill someone if the dosage was to high. Yet, the killer knew enough to keep the victim sedated but alive. “Maybe they don’t have medical knowledge but that does not mean they have no experiences with drugs.”

“What about connections? It’s a small town and everyone is connected to everyone somehow. It makes Cami the only odd man out.”

“I think by the point he found Cami; he was already devolving. Soon it wasn’t going to matter whether or not someone was from Mystic Falls at all. Anyone who dared leave it was a target.” Klaus said, rubbing his forehead. “Take Caroline. She lives in Mystic Falls but worked in Richmond. However, she also traveled a good bit for work and always came back. If he had killed Caroline, his next victim most likely would have the same pattern…. or he would have gone on a killing spree.”

“Let’s hope it does not come to that.” Marcel muttered in a dark tone as he parked on the curb of a typical Southern suburban home. It was a white house with a wraparound porch. There were white columns holding up the roof that covered the porch. “Is it wrong that it makes me pleased that not everyone in this town is a white male whose ancestors where slave owners?”

“No. It’s not.” It was the mid-morning on a Thursday but seeing that it was June, there was a good chance that Alaric would be at home and not at the high school. The agents walked up the sidewalk and stepped onto the porch. Much like they had done for the last couple of interviews, Marcel knocked on the door and they waited patiently for someone to answer the door.

“Good morning Ms. Gilbert.” Klaus smirked at Elena when she answered the door. She scowled at him and crossed her arms. A memory from the night before surfaced and Elena mentioned that she was currently staying with her Aunt Jenna and Uncle Alaric. “Is Mr. Saltzman here?”

“Come to accuse him of murder too?”

“We are not here to accuse anyone of anything. We just want to have a word with him, that is all.” Marcel stated charmingly. Elena huffed in annoyance but stepped aside, opening the door wider so they could step inside. The front hallway, Klaus could see, lead directly into a kitchen. A set of stairs was on the righthand side and led up to a second floor. On Klaus’s left seemed to be a formal living room and he could see a set of French doors that were closed.

“Elena?” A head popped around the archway from the kitchen, revealing a small woman with dark hair. She was wearing dark skinny jeans, a tank top and a dark jacket. Her eyes flickered between Elena and the agents. Her expression was concerned, and Klaus could tell that she was not ignorant on who they were. In a small town, everyone would know when FBI agents came to town. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Elena nodded. “Anna, these are the agents who are investigating the murder of those women.” Marcel by passed Elena and held out his hand to Anna who shook it hesitantly; Marcel studying her every move. Klaus stood by the door, eyeing Elena and sensing her discomfort. “Why don’t you wait in there. I’ll get Alaric.”

“Elena?” Anna muttered softly as Klaus and Marcel went into the living room. There was nothing special about the living room that stood out to Klaus. A sofa, that did not appear used much, was in the center of the room and a coffee table was facing the fireplace. Photos rested on the mantel and any other surface he could find. He saw several of Elena while she was a teenager with a young man who Klaus assumed was Elena’s brother. He saw a photo of Alaric and a woman with reddish hair dressed in a beautiful wedding gown; Alaric’s wife. “I’m going to head out. Why don’t you come over tonight and have dinner with Jeremy and I? I have to be up early to be at the bakery, Bonnie is already a little miffed at me, but it would be good to see.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.” Elena gave Anna a tight hug. As Anna let herself out of the house, Elena all but ran up the stairs, leaving Marcel and Klaus alone. Much like the had done previously, Marcel took a seat on the couch while Klaus studied the room. It wasn’t long before Alaric entered the room, holding out his hand for Klaus to shake.

“I’m Alaric, but I’m sure you already knew that?” Klaus nodded and watched as Alaric went around to the couch and shook Marcel’s hand as well before taking a seat in an armchair across from Marcel. Klaus continued looking at the photos around the room, seeing one of Alaric holding a small bundle in his arms that Klaus assumed was a baby. “What can I do for you?”

“We wanted to ask you about the woman found at the Falls.” Marcel replied and Alaric nodded, seemingly completely undisturbed. His face was grim and sad, but Klaus could not decide if that was due to being distressed about the circumstances or concern about his possible guilt.

“Of course. How is Caroline?” Klaus turned his head to look at Alaric questioningly. While it would not be completely out of the realm of possibility that Alaric was genuinely concerned about Caroline, the majority of the town was, ever since she received that note, Klaus was suspicious of anyone who would ask after her.

“She is dealing.” Marcel replied easily. “Do you know Caroline well?”

“I was her high school teacher.” Alaric replied and Marcel nodded. “Caroline always stuck out as a student. Bright and eager to please. Top of the class and always had the right answer.” Alaric paused and pressed his lips together. “Of course, there was that unfortunate business with Damon her senior year. I was the one who found her beaten and bruised behind the Grill. I drove her to the hospital. Called her mom when we got there.”

“How would you describe your relationship with her now?” Marcel prodded as Klaus turned from the two of them, his back tensing. His imagination already drew several imagines of Caroline curled up in a back alleyway, beaten by Damon who stood over her; smirking. He did not want Alaric to see that weakness. It was one thing for Caroline to see that side of him, and even Marcel, but it would be a rookie move on his part.

“Um, there isn’t one? Not really.” Alaric was taken aback slightly. “I mean, I know she is friends with Elena and has been over for barbeques, but I haven’t really spent time with her outside that.” Klaus turned around and saw Alaric’s posture stiffened slightly. Klaus could see Alaric’s mind turning as he eyed the two agents. If Alaric wasn’t suspicious before, he certainly was now. “What is this about?”

“What about Andi Star? How would you describe your relationship with her?”

“She was one of my students. I haven’t really seen her since she graduated. Unless you count a random news clip here or there.”

“And what of Vicki Donovan and April Young.”

“I taught them to.”

“And Camille O’Connell?” By this point Alaric was narrowing his eyes at Marcel, completely forgetting that Klaus was there at all. It was obvious that he was becoming uncomfortable with the line of questioning and that caused Klaus to be on guard, the knowledge of Alaric’s missing wife on his mind. “Did you know her?”

“What? No. I never met that woman before in my life.” Klaus cocked his head, expecting that answer. Cami was the odd man out in many ways in this investigation; or a at least that is how it appeared to Klaus. She was the only one who did nothing more than pass through town; it would be expected that no one would have known her name before it appeared on the list of victims.

“And what of Isobel Fleming?” Klaus asked, speaking for the first time. It was like a cord snapped inside Alaric; his eyes shifted from Marcel to Klaus; almost as though he was just remembering the other agent was in the room. His brow creased and eyes narrowed as his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You know nothing about Isobel.” His voice was venomous; as though the reminder of his first was a bitter reminder. Klaus found the reaction odd. He would have expected sadness or irritation at the mention of his presumed dead wife; not hostility. It made Klaus far more curious about Alaric than he expected.

“Don’t I?” Klaus’s voice was casual and light. “I know that the two of you dated on and off again during your time at Duke. I know during the off times she put a couple restraining orders against you, which she then later dropped. I know that she married you during her final semester. I know she went missing roughly, what, thirteen years ago? Presumed dead?”

“That’s why you’re here? You can’t figure out who killed those women so you’re grasping at straws? Zeroing in on the one man who was a suspect in a disappearance that has nothing to do with what is going on in this town.” Alaric snapped and Klaus just smirked at him humorlessly. “You’re wasting time with me. I have nothing to do with those killings and certainly didn’t kill my wife.”

“Then why move all the way to Mystic Falls one day after your wife is presumed dead?”

“Wouldn’t you? Just like you the entire town I lived in thought I killed Isobel. Everywhere I went, suspicion followed me. Surely you can at least understand that.” In truth, Klaus could. He understood perfectly as to why Alaric would want to leave. While Klaus had never been a suspect in a murder, he understood why someone would want to flee their hometown. “I didn’t kill my wife.”

“Why did you come to Mystic Falls?” Klaus asked again. “You have to admit that it looks suspicious. You were suspected of one murder and then you move to a new town; suddenly woman start dying.” In truth it was not that suspicious. There was a twelve-year gap between Isobel’s disappearance and the murders in Mystic Falls. “If you’re honest with us, we can move on.”

“It’s not that scandalous.” Alaric muttered, pressing his fingers to his forehead as though he was fighting a migraine. “When Isobel was a teenager, she had a baby. It was before I met her. We were talking about having kids of our own and it was making Isobel consider whether or not she wanted to look into meeting her daughter.” Alaric shook his head. “When Isobel disappeared, I looked into her daughter’s location. It’s why I came to Mystic Falls. Isobel was presumed dead, I wanted to at least tell her daughter that.”

“But you stayed?”

“Yeah, well Elena took the news hard.” Alaric replied and Klaus paused for a moment; letting the information that Elena was the biological daughter of Alaric’s wife sink in. Unsure of its relevancy, Klaus stored the information away for later. “And I met Jenna. She gave me a reason to stay.” His tone went soft and Klaus could see that Alaric honestly loved his wife. “I didn’t do this. Like I said, you’re wasting your time.”

“I think we got all we came for.” Marcel said, holding out his hand. He provided that gentleman smile that he once told a woman could win awards. Klaus did not smile at Alaric but instead nodded his head and headed towards the door; Alaric walking them towards it. “Thank you for your time.”

“Of course.” Alaric hesitated. “Look, objectively I get why you had to come talk to me. Jenna and I discussed it and I was expecting you to show up on this door sooner rather than later.” Klaus said nothing but just eyed him. “All that being said, I hope you catch the bastard. I know what it is like to lose someone they love and never to know what happened. I can sympathize with the families.”

“We’ll do our best.” Klaus told him in a clipped tone. Marcel was the one who like to win others favor during an investigation. Klaus could care less. The agents turned to walk down the sidewalk and Klaus looked over his shoulder at the house again. Up in one of the windows, Klaus saw Elena watching them as they made their way to their SUV. When she realized she caught his eye, Elena turned away from the window and went out of sight.

“Lunch?” Marcel replied as they climbed into the car. Klaus nodded and Marcel drove off, the two lapsed into silence; lost in their own thoughts. The pair drove to the Grill and found it to be crowded, despite the busy workday. The Grill was dimly lit with a series of round tables and booths covering the floor. A bar was all the way across the room and a section was situated in the corner for a pool table. It reminded Klaus of an old English pub; a fact that Klaus was unsure if it made him like or hate the place. “Is this place ever empty?”

“It’s the only decent place in town. Of course not.” If it was, Klaus would be weary of eating there. His eyes scanned the busy restaurant. At the bar he saw Sean O’Connell sipping at a glass filled with an amber liquid that Klaus knew was not soda; a sight he did not expect to see from a man of the clergy. However, he supposed given the circumstances, it was to be expected. Beside him was Matt Donovan. Much like Sean, Matt had his head bent down; speaking to Sean in a low tone. “I guess those two would have a lot in common.”

“Their sisters’ were murdered. It’s natural for them to seek each other out.” Marcel told him as Klaus’s eyes still scanned the bar. At the other end of the bar, Stefan sat there alone, drinking; a fact that Klaus found strange since Damon was the owner of said bar. However, it was the only decent place in town so it was not a strange feat that Stefan would find himself there in order to drink his sorrows away. He did a double take when his eyes landed on Caroline and Liz; the former was picking at her fries, listening to her mother intently. Marcel coughed lightly. “Go Romeo, I know you want to. I’ll order your usual.”

“Thanks.” Klaus said to him, not bothering to look at him as he crossed the Grill towards the booth that held both Liz and Caroline. As they approached, Caroline’s head shot up in terror and Klaus raised his hands up; showing her he meant no harm. “Sorry I did not mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t.” Caroline smiled brightly at him and Klaus could help but return it. Klaus searched his memory, and he could not recall a seeing a smile, from either Caroline or someone else, seem so bright. He felt his stomach do a flip at the sight of her; a feeling he had not had in a very long time. He had not seen her since the night before and wanted nothing more than to sit down beside her; but he knew he couldn’t. “Would you like to join us?”

“No. But thank you. Marcel and I are just grabbing something before heading back to the station.” Caroline’s shoulders slumped slightly but nodded; clearly disappointed that Klaus could not sit down with them. Internally, Klaus was pleased to know that she craved his presence. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to interrupt you having lunch with your mom.”

“You wouldn’t be interrupting.” Liz’s voice sounded from his side. She was holding back a laugh, her eyes dancing between the two of them. Unsure what Caroline told her mother about what little has occurred between them, it was obvious that something was going on. Klaus could see that Liz liked him enough but there was some concern lingering behind her eyes. It was only natural, Caroline had a traumatic experience, Liz would be protective of her. “I have a question.”

“Of course.”

“Who is that gentleman, the one speaking with Matt? I saw him at the police station earlier.” Liz pointed to the bar and Klaus followed her gaze.

“Sean O’Connell. He is Camille’s brother. He came to claim her body.” Liz nodded and Caroline’s eyes grew sad. Gone was the happy and bright woman who was looking at him moments ago. Her eyes filled with compassion and it was something that made Klaus admire her more. “I have a feeling he will be in town for a while.”

“Klaus!” Marcel called, causing the mentioned agent to turn. Marcel was holding up a plastic bag with their takeout in it. He nodded his head and turned back to Liz and Caroline, saying his goodbyes. Caroline gave him a small smile and nodded. He strolled across the grill towards the entrance where Marcel was waiting for him.

Klaus looked over his shoulder to see Caroline heading towards the bar. She smiled at both Matt and Sean, introducing herself to the latter. She gave him a small smile and pulled him into a tight hug. Klaus froze watching her; taken aback by her compassion. No one would blame her for avoiding a newcomer who was connected to her kidnapping; and yet she was going out of her way to show him kindness.

“Are you coming lover boy?” Marcel teased, pulling Klaus from his trance. With one last look at Caroline, Klaus followed Marcel out into the sunlight. They went back to the police station, sitting around the small circular table in the conference room. The poured over the case files, trying to find something they missed. They had no word from Vincent if they heard back from the DEA; although neither were surprised. There was a chance that the murders would be solved by the time Vincent’s contact came through. Klaus only met Davina Claire a few times, but Klaus did not like her.

Although, Klaus liked very few people in the FBI anymore.

Before long, the sun set, and their third pot of coffee was devoured. They had made no progress other than feeling as though they were running in circles. They were reaching a dead end and that frustrated Klaus. He knew what they needed; they needed the killer to slip up and make a mistake. However, that was the last thing he wanted because he did not want to risk Caroline; or anyone else.

“I’m calling it a night. If I look at these case files one for time, I will lose my mind.” Marcel said, shaking his head. He pushed his chair back and stood, slapping the file he was reviewing shut. He stretched out the kink in his back while Klaus remained seated. “You are staying?”

“Yeah. I’m going to take a look at the autopsy reports again.” Klaus replied, knowing that he was just torturing himself. The details written in that report, especially one frequent notation, churned his stomach. He just was not really to throw him the towel just yet. It was not that Marcel was a bad agent, but just that Klaus was trying to find something that would prevent the killer from providing more evidence.

“Alright. But do try and sleep tonight. You’re not going to be help to anyone if you stay here all night.” Marcel stated and Klaus nodded. Marcel clapped his partner on the back before leaving the conference room and heading back to the motel. Klaus turned his focus back to the file, reading until the words became blurry. After what appeared hours later, Klaus stretched and picked up his now empty coffee mug.

He walked through the all but empty police station. A few officers lingered at their desk, clearly on night duty. Klaus glanced at his phone, checking the time and noticing it was getting close to ten in the evening and placed it back in the pocket of his jeans. His stomach growled in hunger but Klaus bit down the feeling, making do with back police station coffee; a staple in his diet. As he watched the coffee brewed, Klaus felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw Caroline’s name flash across the screen. He immediately answered, panic swelling inside him.

“Hello?”

“Klaus?” Caroline’s terrified voice filled his ear. Klaus could hear Liz in the background and by the shuffle in the police station, she clearly was calling her officers. Klaus bolted across the station to the conference room, grabbing his gun and keys.

“What’s wrong Sweetheart?”

“Someone broke into my house.” He could hear the terrified sound in her voice. He could hear that she had been crying and that made Klaus’s stomach drop. Something was terribly wrong. “They shattered my kitchen window. He came back. Oh god he came back.”

#klaroline #Wanderlust #Wed. Update

[jane-the-zombie]

Turn Around, Flashlight Eyes || Felix & Jane

TIMING: When Jane was still on desk duty PARTIES: @streetharmacist and @jane-the-zombie SUMMARY:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcOxhH8N3Bo CONTENT: Self Harm TW, Car Accident TW

Jane was tired, she was cranky, and she was still really sore from going up against both versions of her fucking mime doppleganger. Worst of all? She was bored. Stuck doing paperwork at work all day and she wanted to scream. At least the bruising and swelling from her broken nose was going down. The last thing she needed was for her neighbor to be dead in his apartment, but Marley had been right. She should check on him. Except, her poor neighbor was forgotten because she heard something in the alleyway next to the apartment. Jane almost turned around and bolted back up the stairs to go to bed. She was not going out there to see what it was, least some goddamn fucking mime asshole was waiting for her. But Jane knew that she was going out there, and swore under her breath as she stomped out the door and around the corner and squinted into the darkness. Felix. There he was, looking as ragged as she did. She would worry about that later. The noise that came out of her - enraged, disbelief, and something she couldn’t quite identify - was inhuman, because she couldn’t believe he would do this again. Outside of her apartment. “Felix Doyle!” Jane raised her voice, hands on her hips. Damn it, she didn’t have handcuffs on her. Or her gun or badge. Damn it. How dare he deal drugs out here again! “I cannot believe you! Both of you, up against the wall. Come on, I don’t have all night.”

The fae had been properly shook, rattled, and rolled. Whatever the alley mime creature had pulled on him, Felix didn’t know. But in a word, he did not enjoy it. There was hardly any thought put into his suit when he left the apartment, the fabric slightly rumpled from when he had woefully rolled himself off the couch. He could either lament what had happened or he could make money. Money, as it turned out, was a wonderful aid against the grey. Whether he was in the alley outside of Jane’s apartment out of some estranged creature comfort or what, he didn’t know, but he knew he was guaranteed a solid deal out of it all. It wasn’t a clammy college kid that stood across from him. It was a grown man with grown man problems that a little powder could help with. Something simple, that was all it needed to be. He could do with simple for the time being. The man had said something funny or maybe he hadn’t. Still, the fae laughed and grinned. A little slower and a little subdued. He heard her before he saw her and when he turned, profile lit by the streetlight, he smiled a little wider. “Jane! How the heck are ya? I believe in you, you know.”

His smile lessened some as the man beside him went stockstill.

“Is that a cop? Is this some kinda sting operation? You in on this?”

When he pointed at Felix, words flying out, it was with a knife. The fae’s face went neutral.

“Well that’s rude.”

Oh, great. Felix believed in her. Jane was not in the mood for Felix’s energetic, evasive mood right now. Her nose hurt, she was sore, and she suddenly knew that Felix was going to talk both her ears off twice before just sinking backward into the shadows. With a jolt, though, Jane realized that the punk wasn’t a college kid, but a grown man. And he had just pulled a knife on Felix. Hell. That was her fault, not thinking situations through before barging into them. That’s why she ended up here after all. Still, she felt her heartbeat picked up, the familiar rush of energy that she craved… “Hey!” Jane said, holding her hands up. Was she close enough to tackle the man? No. She would likely end up with stitches or Felix would get hurt. Jane couldn’t let that happen. Not to Felix, even if he was out here, talking her damn ears off, dealing some goddamn drugs outside of her apartment again. She wouldn’t let a friend get hurt. Well that’s rude. Was that all Felix had to say to some pulling out a knife?!

“Hey now, put the knife away. There’s no need for any of that.” Jane warned, freezing where she stood. “Come on now.”

“You set me up!” The man accused Felix. She decidedly did not like how he was pointing that knife. Jane automatically reached for where her gun was supposed to be. Damn it. It was upstairs laying on her kitchen counter.

“Hey!” Jane barked. “Don’t look at him, look at me. He didn’t do anything to you.” Except encourage your drug habit, maybe. “You should be waving that thing at me.”

Well, Jane certainly looked like she had been in a tussle. Given the knife Felix had pointed at him, he couldn’t exactly ask about it. Trying to hold two conversations was trying enough as it was! He could later though, as he was absolutely certain there would be a later for him. They looked to be in quite the pickle, he thought. Slowly, he turned to face the man, the corners of his mouth slightly lifted. It shouldn’t have been remotely calming to have a knife pulled on him, but hey, some things get familiar over a few decades. Felix kept his palms open as he slightly lifted his hands. The man’s attention was between him and Jane. As keen as he was on not getting stabbed, he didn’t exactly want Jane to get it either.

“Hang on, pal,” he started, voice easy as the breeze. “You���re assuming that I got the energy to do something like that and heck, assuming you’re worth it to. You know what they say about that whole thing...”

The knife edged a little closer as the man took a step, eyes wide open and panic in the black pupils. Felix smiled a little more, teeth showing as skin pulled back. It was electric, the spark that went up his fingertips and danced up his neck. There was another option of who the guy could wave it at, but that was a matter of chance. Madness had no schedule. The fae gripped his glasses and slid them down, hazel giving way to a flood of white. All the better to see the fucker with. Horned shadows spread across the alley, cut holes into the light. Gone in sixty seconds.

The man began to breathe heavy, his chest heaving with the force of it. If he kept going like this, his ribs might shatter. The knife trembled in his hand and Felix took a step back, closer to Jane. Shadows gone, glamour settled. That spark lit him up, his nerves surging and serotonin pumping. He still had it. However deep the mime creature had looked into him, it wasn’t rock bottom. He still had it, rumpled as he was. The knife fell as the man turned to the wall, placed his hands against the stone. Like Jane had said. Crack. Skull hit stone.

Things spiraled out of control quickly. If Jane could just get him away from Felix then everything would be fine. Jane considered goading the man, slowly inching closer. She could throw herself between Felix and the knife, but that still posed risks. Jane swore under her breath as Felix started talking again. No, Felix. Don’t keep talking to the guy with the knife. That was a bad freaking idea. The gravel under her tennis shoes crunched as she slid closer, weighing options.

Jane had just decided to lunge at the man when Felix did whatever it was that he did. She didn’t mind needing a few more stitches, and she wasn’t completely sure that Felix was knife-proof. Better her than him anyday. The blinding light filled the alleyway, Jane automatically using her hand to shield her face - Wait. Was that coming from Felix’s eyes? Jane’s hand fell back to her side as she squinted. Horrible shadows filled the alleyway. It lasted a long time. Too long. Seconds were minutes as she stared in a sort of mortified fascination before it was gone. It was gone and everything was back to normal. Jane reoriented herself. Well, shadow zombies couldn’t do that, now could they?

The man was disturbed. Jane snapped back to reality as Felix backed closer to her. “What the hell was -” Jane’s words were cut off by the horrible crack. Her eyes snapped away from Felix. The man’s skull hit the stone again, and she could see dark wet marks left behind. “Crap. Felix, stay there. Call...  someone.” Jane moved instinctively, hoping Felix would listen. The cracking became wet thuds as Jane restrained him. “Hey! Hey! Enough!” She jerked him away from the wall forcefully. “That’s enough, come on now -” The man fought against her grip. Crap. They struggled hard for a moment, Jane fighting for control as he started to scream. He was larger and stronger than her, and Jane still wasn’t up to be in another fight. His elbow sunk into her stomach and she stumbled back with a pained groan. That wouldn’t stop her easily. Jane just barely took a step forward, before the man took off running.

It was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion. The sound of a car turning onto her road and speeding down the street along with the bloodied, disoriented man running and yelling. There was a loud thwack, with a screeching stop as the man’s body was thrown from impact. Jane froze, eyes wide. She turned to look at Felix. “What?”

The fae watched on as the slightest order to the alley quickly unraveled itself. His teeth felt sharp in his mouth, his head felt lighter. Even with his shirt rumpled and his tie askew, Felix felt like a million bucks. Maybe even more. The man quickly devolving into a state of disrepair became the tree he fixated himself on and the rest of it could burn because he didn’t care to look at it. Could he explain it to Jane? That sensation of hopelessness being run clean through to make way for triumph. That creature in the alley had reduced him to something he had not been for so long. It inspired a hatred, a spite in him, that could melt the strongest metals. Maybe even iron itself. He breathed in deep through his nose before he looked at her, brows raised behind his glasses.

She was trying to help the man. Right, that was her job as one of those law enforcement types. He was content to let the man crack his skull open and piece the secrets out one by one. There wasn’t any attempt made to call anyone as he stepped forward, hands half inside his pockets. Faint worry lines creased his forehead as she stepped in and the man rounded on her. That wasn’t what he wanted to happen. Her name left his mouth quickly as the man struck before tearing off down the alley. Felix was nearly inspired to follow. To see where exactly the man’s line of thought led. It wasn’t far. The man’s body rolled out of sight of the alleyway’s mouth in a trail of glass and blood. The fae turned his head to look at Jane, expression nearly as surprised if not a smidge more muted.

“Well, what a one-hit wonder he seemed to be, huh?”

Jane ached all over again. The bruises and the soreness from the knife fight she got in earlier in the week weren’t helped in the struggle with the now very dead man. People in the car were getting out, screaming at the body, calling the police. Shit. She was the police. The confusion sank further in her as Jane winced at Felix’s words. “That’s not funny,” she said. She heard the 9-1-1 call as some hysterical woman and her partner went to see if the man was conscious or had a pulse. Doubtful. She couldn’t bring herself to go look. She looked over at Felix again, running a hand through her hair. How the hell was she going to explain this when the police showed up? What exactly had Felix done, other than blind someone with that weird light?

And it wasn’t like she could tell anyone that. Sarge and the Captain seemed to have their heads up their asses about shit like this, and she didn’t exactly understand what the hell Felix had done to the man. Or if Felix had caused this at all. Certainly not the car accident. Jane made the decision quickly. She turned to Felix. “Inside.” Jane hissed quietly, pointing towards the door in the back of her apartment. “Now. Before they notice us.” Jane hurried too the door, quickly typing in her code, and it swung open. She held it open for him. “I want an explanation, come on now.”

Jane didn’t find the joke funny. Alright, Felix supposed that was fair, and he acquiesced with a nod. A strange pair they made, him completely unbothered and her more than a little bothered. Any humor he felt at the situation slowly slipped away as he turned away from the scene. And what a scene it had become. He hadn’t planned for that, but realistically, he could only plan for so much. When she looked at him and made her demands, he quietly agreed that it was for the best. It wouldn’t be in either of their interest to act as witnesses.

“You got it!”

He followed behind her as she led him to the apartment and as he crossed the threshold of her apartment door, he huffed out a breath. Hands went to his hips as he glanced around the place.

“Say, speaking of explanations, what happened to you? Looks like you got into a scuffle or something there, Jane.”

Jane hurried up the stairs and into her apartment, letting him in. She couldn’t believe that Felix was actually in her apartment. Usually she was out there, chasing him around in the world. At least she had cleaned earlier. Marley’s blood had almost stained the floors and it had taken her forever to try and get it out. She looked at him for a long moment. Scuffle was putting it kindly, and she rubbed the side of her broken ass nose with a grumble. God, was Felix really here? Did she really think this was a good idea?

Jane held up a hand, signaling one moment, before she kicked off her tennis shoes, and went to the kitchen. There, she pulled out a rather large bottle of whiskey and a glass. She paused. And then pulled out another glass.

“I got attacked in the woods by a mime with a knife,” Jane said, flatly, filling both glasses with whiskey. She turned to him. “And it broke my nose and I have 22 stitches.” She patted her thigh, wincing, and rolled up her sleeves to show the bandage on her arm. “It looked exactly like me. After I killed it and it disappeared in striped smoke. Then, later, came back as a zombie, attacked me and my date, and I shot it’s head off. And it disappeared into more striped smoke.”

She held a glass of whiskey out to him.

“Your turn.”

The fae turned his cufflinks idly as he stood near the door. He followed her example and carefully pulled off his own shoes. Wow. Felix never thought he would ever be in Jane’s apartment. It looked...normal. Not at all like how he might have imagined a cop’s apartment. Not that he often considered it much to begin with. Did she imagine his apartment to be full of the world’s assortment of drug paraphernalia? The thought prompted a laugh to pass through him. What an odd day they were having. He wasn’t opposed to the odd or unusual. Better one type of odd over the other and that was how he chose to classify the time spent in Mime Nightmare Alley. At the mention of mimes, he strode over to where she offered the glass of whiskey. He held it between both hands as he turned it, thumbnail quiet as it followed along a groove.

“Jeepers, that sounds like quite the endeavor you went through,” he said with a tilted head. “I encountered one myself not too long ago. It didn’t look like me, but it was a mime still! Guess that’s one way to spend a date, huh? You can’t say it wasn’t memorable.”

He smiled around the rim of his whiskey glass as he took a drink.

“Right, that whole thing,” he said as he lowered it. He had already told her what he was and she had promised to not tell anyone. “Well, like I told you, not a shadow zombie. My kind, we got this eye thing, and when we want, we can flip on these floodlights and if people look right at ‘em...They take a little dip in a pool of madness for a bit, is all.” As if that were as casual as rainwater on a drizzly day. “They lose it for a little. What happens though? I don’t really got control over that part.”

God. Felix had run into a mime too? “I hate this town.” Jane took a moment to finish the contents of her glass in one go, before pouring herself another.  It was a get drunk kind of night, especially as she glanced to the window and saw the familiar red and blue siren lights. God. She couldn’t believe this. She truly couldn’t believe this. She wondered if Felix would let her into his apartment willingly. Probably not without a warrant. Jane almost laughed out loud at the thought, leaning against the counter.

“Definitely some sort of date,” Jane muttered, wincing slightly as she remembered her zombie form breaking Marley’s arm. She shook her head, focusing on what exactly Felix was telling her. He was a Lamp-pan-something. Lampinade. Lanped? Lamede. Something like that. Not a shadow zombie. Or, well, a fae, as he said. Not a fairy. She tried to wrap her head around it.

“Madness?” She asked cautiously. That sounded extremely dangerous. It was extremely dangerous. She saw its effect on that man. But that man had drawn a knife on Felix. Who was she to say that he could use is Lampinade-something powers on him in self defense. He hadn’t known that he would do that. The law was meant for humans, and wasn’t adapted for the supernatural. She was slowly realizing that… That didn’t mean Felix would get off scot free running drugs, though.  Jane was curious now, as she was about dangerous things. Jane looked at at him, peering at his glasses, as if she was going to suddenly see a bright light. She pointed to them, suddenly. “Is that why you wear those? If you take them off, will the light come back?

“Kinda makes you wish you knew about all the mime nonsense before, huh?” Felix remarked as he rubbed at his jaw with one hand. “But I guess I can see why it’s the kinda thing they might wanna keep hush-hush. Can’t really imagine too many people clamoring to get in if the mimes are the welcoming committee.” A mime had stolen some of his finest weed. Of course he was bitter and would remain as such long before the mime bodies fell to the weeds. He found himself a place to comfortably sit, one ankle crossed over the other. In Jane’s apartment and seated without a care! Well, one care, maybe.

“It looked like he got a decent hit in there, Jane. How ya feeling?”

He expected her questions and hummed over them as he turned his glass. Madness was such a vague concept. Nebulous. Entirely unique when someone was taken by it. Some crumpled, some puffed up. It depended on so many little factors and all it took was the slightest nudge from a single look to get someone facing that abyss.

“Yes,” he said as he straightened up. “The very thing! It’s different for everyone, you know. Friends can become enemies, nothing can become something. Loneliness can suddenly become very crowded.” It was one of the ways his mothers had explained it to him the first time he accidentally sent a friend scrambling away. It didn’t bother him to share this with Jane. At the question of his glasses, he tapped gently on the rims. “Sort of, yeah. A little less likely to hit someone with the beams if I got ‘em on. That and they look nice.” He started to smile. “Don’t you think?”

“Not like I had much of a choice coming here at all.” She didn’t mean it to sound as bitter as it came out, but it was. Jane had really only told Marley that the reason she was here was because she had been forcibly transferred, and even then it hadn’t been a real explanation of what happened. It was still funny to her, though, that her and Felix ended up in the same small town.  It was equally funny to her that a drug dealer’s presence had made her feel a little less lonely once she knew he was here. Jane knew, as she sank down into her little armchair across from Felix, that she had been chasing Felix for years and now there was usually a bit of fondness in her tone whenever she started yelling at him for being… well… him.

She prodded her ribs, wincing. He had gotten her pretty good, but it could have been a lot worse. “Oh, he barely got me,” she scoffed, waving it off. “It’ll match the other bruises.” SHe was more concerned with how he described this madness that his flashlight eyes gave people. She saw the shadows in the light, and she didn’t think she had been affected by it. How exactly did it work? She wondered if he would do it to her if she asked. After all, if she banged her head against the wall, that wouldn’t be his fault, it would be her own. The idea already had her perking up, but she didn’t think it was a conversation for now.

“You said it only lasts for a bit? So everything returns to normal after a while? How long is a while? And you can turn them off and on?” Curiously, Jane craned her head, as if trying to see around his glasses, like the light was just going to come back into her apartment.

“They do,” Jane smiled at little, despite herself, “A staple of your wardrobe. I don’t think I could complain about that.”

“This place really is something of a far cry from Portland though. Place gets a lotta action. But no choice? How do you mean? You did say stubborn fate was a way to put it...” Felix nodded, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. Fate was a matter of little thought to him. He didn’t like to bind himself to one such destiny. But it brought him some comfort, some off brand sense of familiarity, that he and Jane had met once again. Just with a little less dress-burning and a little more danger, he thought with a laugh. He didn’t see a thing wrong with it. “See, I listen to you when you tell me things. Just maybe not when it’s hey, that’s illegal or are those drugs in your pocket or are you just happy to see me.”

He laughed. His thoughts and feelings had already distanced from the fact a man had been laid out, likely put down, by an oncoming vehicle. It was bound to happen one day. Given that the human had decided to pull a knife on him and his friend, what better day! Jane Wu. His friend. Huh. With the way she winced, he briefly wondered if he should offer to her what he had for sale. As fun as that would be, maybe not the best decision.

“Yup, it sure does. Really depends on how long we stand there ogling each other’s eyes,” he explained. A glance could last an hour but with intent, it could go on for quite awhile. She seemed...interested in what he had to say. That was kinda nice. “It’s the difference between looking at someone and really looking at someone, focusing on ‘em. Like a lightbulb! Clicking it on to the highest point it can go.” He snapped his fingers quietly as he said it and grinned. Jane had already promised him that she wouldn’t mention what he was to anyone and that kept his tongue flowing freely.

“Was that a compliment? Geez, he must’ve got you good.”

Felix seemed a little curious as to how she ended up here, even if he didn’t quite understand why she was so disgruntled at being here at all. She wouldn’t get into it, not really, and definitely not with Felix. What was she supposed to do? Admit that she, a police detective, had done something wrong? It seemed silly to admit tht she was a little ashamed - she was ashamed? Is that what that felt like? “Why don’t we just leave it to Fate, Felix?” Jane said, suddenly uncomfortable, but she let out a low laugh. She definitely had, once or twice or three times, had said are those drugs in your pocket or are you just happy to see me. “I hope you’re not saying that you just have drugs in your pocket and you aren’t happy to see me.”

Of course, him admitting her had drugs on his pocket would result in breaking out the handcuffs a little too early in the night. From his own rumpled suit, she was fairly certain that neither of them had enough energy to be chasing or running. That was fine, she could call a truce with a friend for the night. Felix Doyle… Her friend. Shit. Jane let out a low sigh, and settled back into her chair.

Jane had more questions. She was interested in how it all worked - what did Felix see when he looked into the other person’s eyes, and what other effects did it have? Did he do it often? Did he have to do it? But Jane was fairly certain he wouldn’t appreciate being grilled, especially after he had just saved both their lives. Jane grinned back as he snapped his fingers. “Sounds like you have your own personal high beams.” She smirked slightly.

“You know, now that you mention it, he probably did get me pretty good. I don’t know what I’m saying.” She poked her ribs, wincing, mostly for dramatic effect before she leaned forward, swiping the remote off her coffee table and throwing her feet up. “They’re going to be out there a while,” Jane said, nodding towards the blue and red lights flashing through her window. “And I’m still technically on desk duty, so they won’t be calling me out there any time soon. So you’re stuck with me, unless you do your strange shadow zombie thing.”

Jane settled, flicking the television on, before turning her head to smile at Felix. “I told you we were going to end up watching Desperate Housewives together.”

#para #para felix #felix #car accident tw #self harm tw #this was a RIDE #and SO fun lmfao #if anyone needs a TLDR let me know

[nad-zeta]

Match up ^o^

May I request a Match up, please?

I’m at the part when I have to choose a route and I honestly don’t know/care. So I decided why not let some lovely internet stranger choose for me? Who do you think I would pair the best with?

I also noticed how much effort and detail you put into these so I decided that it was only fair to try to put in just as much effort in requesting. Or maybe I am just extremely vain so blabbering on this much about myself comes naturally (I also wouldn’t be too suprised if this were the case lol). Either way, I apologise for this getting so long. And without further ado, let’s learn about yours truly. Uh, yay?

I will start with my physical appearance because that’s easiest.  

First of all, I am rather tall for a woman. Pair that with the fact that I constantly wear boots with 8 centimetre or greater heels and I almost always cap out somewhere above 182 centimetres (that’s 6 feet in American). So yes. I’m not exactly the approachable type, on the account of my height and near constant resting bitch face. I always look pissed off at something (and to be fair, I usually am).

I am a brunette with boring brown eyes. Nothing of note there. 

I prefer to walk on my toes, for whatever reason. I also have great posture when I walk and these two factors always make it seem like I am floating. I’ve been told that I always seem very confident and self-assured. Which is complete bullshit because 90% of the time, I am winging it. 

I am a dancer (of sorts. More on that later), so I am rather slim and toned. This is literally the only aspect of my physicality that I am actually confident in. The rest of me can burn in hell for all I care. 

I am also very touch adverse. I hate the feeling of skin touching my skin it grosses me touch. However. There are a select few people in this world that I accept and enjoy hugs and cuddles from (and who I could snuggle with for hours). If I let anyone cuddle me that means I trust said person unconditionally and feel extremely comfortable around them. It’s essentially the ultimate statement of trust.

Onto personality.

If you can’t already tell, I have about as much dignity as a wet cat. I while I certainly do have an ego, it can be kind of difficult to bruise. Publically, I am absolutely shameless and don’t give two shits about what others think. 

I have a tongue of steel and can rapid fire the most atrocious insults and comebacks when provoked. I’m known for my venomous sarcasm and biting wit among my own circles. I have a line for nearly every single situation so one-liners have become my thing. Which works out for me because I am a huge flirt.

I’ll flirt with pretty much anyone regardless of gender, I don’t give a crap. To clarify, it’s not because I am an attention whore (okay, yes. I am a complete attention whore), it’s because I am a theatre kid so excessive eye contact and sexual jokes are kinda where I thrive. I am also not afraid to get questionably lascivious with my flirting if someone tries to out-pace me. I never blush, I never falter, and I never let anyone know that they got the better of me. It shows weakness. 

Despite my salacious façade, I am not inherently a sexual person. As a matter of fact, I am quite the opposite. I don’t experience sexual attraction (kudos to my asexual humans. I see you). This has rendered me practically immune to all charm, crushes, and sex appeal. It makes my life a lot easier, in my opinion. I don’t get too attached. I also enjoy messing around with the egos of fuck boys. 

As mentioned earlier, I am an attention whore. I love showing off because I crave validation (this could point to some deep seated insecurities about myself that I refuse to acknowledge…. Ahem). Being on stage as where I thrive. And yes, I am a dancer, as I stated earlier. But I am not your conventional prissy ballerina. I am a circus performer. More specifically, I’m an aerialist. I have covered trapeze, contortion (I am unnaturally flexible), lyra, and silks. It’s a lot of fun almost dying every day and finding bruises in the most questionable places (if you cant already tell, I am an adrenaline junkie. I took karate for the first dozen or so years of my life and have recently been searching for more weapons combat classes because apparently I don’t have enough bruises already).

I am not easily impressed. And I don’t give out compliments very often. And that includes myself. I can be unnecessarily hard on myself at times… most of the time. But then again, who isn’t? 

As for the side of me that isn’t stark-raving mad, I am usually a pretty objective person. While I have no qualms with discussing emotions (both mine and friend’s. I am a great listener and actually give pretty good advice when it comes to dealing with intense emotions). I tend to avoid letting them interfere with my logic. I look down on those who allow their emotions to dictate their actions. It makes them needlessly reckless. 

I am typically a pretty chill person. When I am among people I am unfamiliar with, I tend to stay quiet and try not to rock the boat too much (again, I won’t hesitate to unleash a severe tongue lashing upon any poor soul who happens to rub me the wrong way… Or just happens to exist. I don’t take shit from other people and I hate it when others try to control me. (I don’t play rough, I play smart). 

I really enjoy reading, writing, or drawing quietly. I can’t stand loud and excessive noises or people (parties, screaming, concerts). I am a true extroverted introvert. I love being the center of attention and chatting, but I need my alone time. People are exhausting to deal with. 

Because of my aversion to loud sounds, I tend to avoid typical dance parties like the plague. While I am very good with mingling and partying in general, I can only keep it up in short bursts before I have to retreat somewhere quiet. This is also the reason I greatly prefer the nighttime (if I had a choice I would sleep all day and only frolick around at night. I just love the dark. It’s comforting in a weird way). I also love the night because that’s when I get to sleep and just peace out on life. It’s kinda like non-committal dying.

I am near constantly on hyper-alert so I am not easily startled. When I do get startled, I have a tendency to squeak, yelp or growl. These noses are purely reactionary sounds but for whatever reason, my friends think that they are absolutely adorable and will go to great lengths to startle me just to hear me make them.

To counteract my friend’s malevolence, I have learnt to be super observant, especially when I feel threatened. Usually, I am caught up on my own world and thoughts. I have an imagination so powerful that I can trick my brain into feeling false sensations such as an extra limb or falling. I much prefer to spend my time in my head rather than our boring reality. But if I feel threatened, or think that another attack is imminent, I instantly become hyper aware. These moments of lucidity enable me to make certain observations others would otherwise be overlooked (for example. I was able to tell when my professor lost her wedding ring due to the discoloration around her ring finger and the habitual and near-constant worrying she did at it. I offered to help her look after class ^.^. I admittedly felt kinda smug when I saw her surprise.) Ironically enough, I like to refer to this mode of thinking as “Sherlocking”. I can be quite the detective when I really try. 9 out of 10 times my friends will come to me when they suspect infidelity, I am pretty good at digging up dirt. 

However, I have to make the conscious decision to do this, usually when I am trying to figure someone out or manipulate them into liking me. So this isn’t constant and usually I go about my day like everyone else, blissfully unaware of my surroundings.

Uhh, there is probably more I could cover but this is getting very long as-is and you are probably forcing yourself to get through my seemingly eternal ramblings. So I am going to stop here and go grab myself some food. 

Best of luck to you,

-November

Hi there love!<3 you sound like such a cool interesting person! ^_^ Hehehe I probs took so long with this match up that you already chose a new route lol! Anyways thanx for waiting soooooo long for this and I hope ya enjoy it love ^0^ ^_^

I match you with……………………… Masamune

Honestly, it was between Masamune and Mitsuhide for me lol but i eventually decided to go with Masamune 

The first time Masamune sees you, his eyes go wide in awe, like wow you are one tall fine lady! He has legit never met anyone so tall. After you were named as chatelaine, you stayed behind with some of the warlords to chat and get to know them better, you are after all going to be seeing their faces every day for the next 3 months. 

Right of the bat, Masamune is howling in laughter at the fact that you are way taller than Ieyasu. You, Masamune and Mitsuhide basically tease the poor porcupine for a solid 20 minutes. “My my I never expected such a scary-looking little mouse to be so bubbly and friendly.” 

Oooh, this boy just stared a war of wits. Today day was a good day cause your tongue of steel was rapidly firing witty words and sarcastic remarks at the resident kitsune. He almost couldn’t keep up, almost. Masamune was just standing there watching the whole scene unfold, you truly were going to be a lot of fun! Masamune decided to test out that tongue of steel of your and started firing some flirty pick-up line, while unbeknown to him you are the queen of one-liners, and have no shame when it comes lascivious flirting. Masamune, of course, never backs down from a challenge, and he was determined to make you blush. The conversation got so heated that it made even Hideyoshi blush on your behalf. You simply laughed and fired another one of your pick-up lines.

After the little chat in the hallway and a massive speech from mama bear for talking about things that were not PG13, cause of the kids *cough* Mitsunari *cough*, you and Masamune become quick friends. He had never met a woman before that was immune to his boyish wild charm, and handsome sexual appeal. Masamune was definitely popular with the woman, not as popular as Hideyoshi, but he was definitely a fuckboi. As surprised as he was, that his normal antics didn't work on you, his ego wasn’t dented one bit, it just made him more determined to get to know you. 

Masamune definitely finds your flirtatious nature attractive, especially when you managed to score the two of you free sweet bun just by flirting with the shop owner, he was, even more, shook when the shop owner was a woman, your flirtation truly knows no bounds. The two of you would spend loads of time together, just going out for tea and sweets while getting to know each other. TBH although Masamune would never admit it, he found it refreshing that you weren't just his friend simply cause he was hot or cause you wanted to climb in stations but because you actually liked him as a person. You and Masamune definitely made an unstoppable team when it came to banquets. The two of you would team up and start teasing everyone there. When you two cuties are together its always a good time with loads of laughter and banter

Masamune discovered that you like him, was an adrenaline junkie. He loved that he finally had someone around that would do stupid shit with him just for the thrill of it. The two of you would go out on adventures 24/7 jumping down waterfalls and hiking up cliffs. The two of you goofball would also dare each other to do the craziest shit. Like one-time Masamune dared you to jump off the castle’s roof onto your balcony, and you freaken did it, no questions asked. Or like the one time you dared him to put his head in Shogetsu mouth, mind you the little cub was now grown into a full-blown tiger

One day you and Masa went to go watch one of Mitsuhide’s undercover performances. The three of you were investigating a shady daimyo in one of the nearby provinces. The three of you disguised yourselves as performers and joined a circus troop as their new dancers. You were so excited, the stage is where you truly come alive. You had promised Masa to show him something that would shock/surprise him after he gave you the grand tour of  Azuchi. Today was the day, you had kept your dance and performances a secret from the two men, and now it was finally time to show them what you can do. You had 3 different performances planned. The first one was contortion. To say Masamune was shook would be an understatement he never knew anyone could be so freaken flexible, like wow. Your next performance was aerial dancing, his blue eye gleamed in delight, watching you move through the air so gracefully. If he wasn’t sure before he was sure now, this boy loved ya. But what really took his breath away was when you trapezed through the air, he was absolutely mesmerized at the way you flew through the air doing back-flips and other cool ass tricks. Masamune loved the look of pure joy on your face as you performed and after the show, you explained to him that you were a theatre kid back in the past. Mitsuhide definitely took note of your skills, and since that day you now accompanied him on most missions that required him to disguise himself as a performer.

Masamune loved everything about you at this point. Your overdramatic introvert/extrovert personality. The way you walked. Gosh, he loved the way you walked, it looked like you were an angel floating around wherever you went. He loved your banter and one-liner for every situation. And most of all he loved your hyper-alert side. Boy did he love to come up behind you to scare the crap outta you just so he could hear you squeak, yelp or growl. Like he lived for those adorably cute noises. And you somewhere along the line had fallen in love with the big idiot. He was always coming up with new fun adventures to go on or new fun things to do. He was one of those few people that could actually keep up with your banter

What was he most impressed with you may ask, well you Sherlocking skills of course. One day there were rumours of some super shady daimyos visiting Azuchi. Word on the street was that they were planning on stealing Mitsunari report to make the poor angel look bad. Mitsuhide was away sorting out some other plots and schemes, so it was now up to you to use your skills, to save the angel. You used your detective skill to gather evidence, and since your inner circle knew you were from the future, you were planning on catching them in the act and filming them for evidence. Masamune was always up for an adventure, so he acted as you own personal Watson. The two of you hid while watching the whole scene unfold, once they left the room the two of you came out. “What do you think they are going to do with the report lass,” he asked while his blue eye gleamed in delight. “Hmmmmm, I believe they are going to burn the evidence in the forest” you replied in your best British accent. Masamune couldn’t help but laugh. The two of you made your way to a secluded part of the forest and spotted them making a fire. Masamune looked at you curiously “How did you know they were going to be in this exact spot.” “Elementary, my dear Masamune.” He couldn’t help but burst out in laughter you really were a super fun kitten. Unfortunately for the two of you, they heard you guys laughing behind the trees and before you knew it, the two of you were surrounded. One of the men had a sword right at your throat ready to cut you open, that is when you shocked them by not backing down from the fight, you hit the sword away with one of your own gifted to you by your dearest one-eyed dragon. “ Point that sword at me one more time and i’ll slash your Achilles’ tendons, and TBH given the medicine situation of this time, no one would know how to fix your injury, so I hope you like hobbling around on one leg for the rest of your life cause that is what will happen.” These men were shook; meanwhile, Masa was next to you howling in laughter, “She’s not joking boys, this lass delivers on her threats.” You had never seen grown men run away from a fight so fast. You and Masamune picked up Mitsunari’s report that had fallen on the ground during the commotion and walked back hand in hand

You didn’t really like skin touching skin, but TBH you definitely like the warm feeling of Masamune’s hand warmed around yours. The two of you had come to fall in love with each other, and it wasn’t long before you two cuties entered into a relationship. Despite both of you being adrenaline junkies, both of you also loved your quiet times. Often you would sit together in his manor each doing your own thing. You would read and write, and Masamune would sit at his desk pretending to work (Cause admin is so freaken boring). 

The two of you would have the best time together during banquets you loved being the centre of attention and would chat with everyone, but as the night would progress you would start feeling a bit drained and that’s when the one-eyed dragon would swoop in, pick you up and takes you to a quiet corner where the two of you cuddle and snuggle together.

He would spoil you rotten with the most amazing food, he would basically, cook anything your heart desires just to see that beautiful smile on your face. His heart would always burst with affection whenever he cuddles and kiss you, he knew that the fact that you allowed him to cuddle you was the ultimate statement of trust between the two of you.

Often the two of you cuties can be found causing mischief and giving Mamayoshi more grey hairs or cuddled together sharing stories of your day

Other potential matches............... Mitsuhide 

Hope u enjoyed it dear @november-solarstorms

#ikesen masamune #masamune date #ikemen sengoku masamune #matchups #match ups #masamune matchup #ikesen matchup #submission

[sad-goomy]

iron & cream - fantasy

Day 4 of Bederia Week

Read the rest on Ao3

Bede makes a strange first impression on everyone in Postwick.

It doesn’t help that he has to watch himself, has to carefully mind his wording lest he accidentally gain control of someone’s name, or have them incur a debt, and while Victor and Gloria’s mother brush it off with polite smiles, Hop is...

Well, he’s Hop.

They meet on the second day of his visit, just outside the pub in Wedgehurst that Hop and Victor have taken to frequenting, and he sticks his hand out with a wide smile as he greets with a small-town charm that must come second-nature to him, “Take it you’re the infamous Bede, then? The one who’s been keeping our Gloria out of trouble.”

Gloria clicks her tongue in disapproval while Victor smirks at her, and Bede only stares at the outstretched hand being offered. There’s no harm in him shaking hands with a mortal, he knows this, and yet he finds that the very idea of shaking Hop’s hand makes him want to gag. He looks back up at the boy’s face as his smile falters slightly, and Bede realizes just what’s wrong here.

Hop is exactly the type who’s terrorized him in his life, the boy who’s nearly a local celebrity and rides the coattails of a family legacy while having fun pointing and laughing at the local weirdo who comes from nothing.

(Never mind that he hasn’t done anything like that in the past thirty seconds, and that some of this bias might be due to how long he hugged Gloria upon seeing her.)

“You may call me Bede,” he finally replies, when the silence stretches just south of uncomfortable, his hands still buried deep into the pockets of his coat as he puts a little extra sneer in his tone, “And what may I call you?”

Gloria elbows him sharply in the side, but he doesn’t flinch, instead focusing all of his attention on puffing up his chest, on using all his old tactics to make it clear that he isn’t one to be needled and poked at like a science experiment. Hop blinks, taking back his hand as he shares a look with Victor and an uneasy chuckle slips past his lips. “Bit formal, innit?”

His fae pride bristles, and he opens his mouth to snap something far less playful back when Gloria beats him to the punch, nearly stepping between the two as she quickly supplies, “Ballonlea thing.” She turns to look up at Bede, her voice tight and glare warning. “You can call him Hop.”

Then, as if this can’t get any worse, Hop gives him another bright smile and slings his arm around Bede’s shoulders, the fae flinching at how casual this all is, as Hop leads him into the pub with a laugh. “Didn’t mean to poke fun at it, mate – first round is on me.”

This is the moment Bede decides he hates Hop.

...

Of course, try as he might to avoid Hop, Bede’s still forced to be around him if he wants to spend any actual time with Gloria during the holiday.

She calls him out on it once, when they’re taking off their boots and coats at the front door. Gloria fixes him with a look as Victor quickly scurries off to the kitchen, clearly sensing the tension in the air.

“Play nice.”

“I’m perfectly polite,” he jabs back, adjusting his sweater.

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms with a pout. “You’re bloody frigid with Hop is what you are. He’s been nothing but kind to you, but every time he says something to you, I swear you’re going to send an evil eye his way.”

And to be fair, he nearly did on the walk back just now, when Hop caught him staring at a baby in the family they passed – strange side effect of fae heritage, a growing fascination in human children and their delicate fates – and pointed it out. It was a lighthearted joke, something about being a family man that Bede’s already forgotten, but it was still enough to have him consider manifesting a patch of ice under Hop’s feet.

Gloria sighs, shoulders slumping as her eyes turn into a plea. His stomach drops a little as he feels the disappointment radiating off of her, can see the dulling of her aura as she pleads, “You don’t have to be his new best friend, but please, I really want you to get along a little. He’s like my second brother and you’re...”

He holds her gaze, and his heart beats faster as her cheeks grow pink. It’s just a second of hesitation, but then she’s clearing her throat, looking down at her mismatched socks as her aura blooms, warm and radiant and all for him.

“You’re really important to me.”

Something in him melts, and he feels heat crawling up his neck and over his cheeks as he pulls at his shirt collar, desperate to cover his face.

“...I’ll be nicer.”

She looks up with a lopsided smile and takes a step closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and drowning him in a warmth that he finds harder and harder to live without as she whispers into the crook of his neck, “Thank you.”

This is the moment Bede decides he can tolerate Hop.

...

It occurs to him in the space between Christmas and New Years that he hasn’t had cream in a while.

Unfortunately, it occurs to him at two in the morning and in a slight craze, as his stomach clenches and he tries to not stumble loudly down the steps from the guest room and to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, eyes scanning for anything that could fill the craving that’s clawing at his insides, but finds nothing immediately.

As he continues to dig around, shuffling tupperware and condiments, he misses the light footsteps coming into the kitchen from the living room.

“Oi mate, everything all right?”

Bede does not shriek, mind you, but he certainly jumps several inches into the air and lets out a noise that has him convinced he’s just woken up everyone else in the house.

Miraculously, there’s no movement upstairs, leaving him to turn slowly and find Hop (who had crashed on the couch after a movie marathon with Victor) scratching at his side underneath his shirt, one eye closed and the other barely cracked open.

“Take that as a ‘no’ then,” he mumbles through a yawn.

Bede doesn’t even consider coming up with some acidic retort, because he promised Gloria and he’s also in dire straits. Instead, he swallows his pride as best he can and takes a deep breath before fixing Hop with a look that’s so somber, it has the other boy actually waking up.

“I need cream.”

Hop blinks, eyes flickering from Bede’s face to the glowing fridge behind him. “Like, literal cream or...?”

“Yes, literal,” he huffs, turning to close the fridge door and leaving them in the low light of the moon through the kitchen window – which is somehow making this entire situation worse – and explaining, “I think they’ve run out.”

“Well, the closest grocery store is in Wedgehurst, and they don’t open until eight. Can you uh, wait until then?”

Bede gives him a look that communicates, even in the dark, that he absolutely cannot wait until then. His body is already screaming at him, and he suspects if he goes another hour without it, he may very well lose what little control he has over his powers. The last thing he needs is to out himself as a fae to Gloria’s family and best friend by turning someone’s hair green over a cream deficiency.

Hop gets the message loud and clear, chuckling under his breath as he holds his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay, got it.”

Without another word, Hop turns and exits out of the kitchen, heading towards the front door. Bede raises a brow, confusion cutting through his haze as he follows and watches the other boy throw on his coat and pull on his shoes.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Popping over to my place real quick.” Hop pats his left coat pocket, checking for something that is apparently there since he smiles and nods. “My mum’s a big baker, she’ll definitely have heavy cream. Just a pint okay?”

He’s not sure what he expected, but it surprises Bede all the same as he mumbles, “Yeah, that’s enough.”

“Right then, be right back.”

The front door clicks closed quietly behind him, leaving Bede to stand in the front hall and wonder what the hell is happening. He paces, losing track of time as the cream craving comes back and fogs his mind, along with questions of why on earth Hop is being so damn nice to him. It’s not like he’s been much better than stand-offish at best, and he’d be hard-pressed to walk in the cold in the middle of the night to get something out of his own fridge for a near stranger.

By the time Hop knocks on the door and Bede lets him in, he’s no closer to an answer other than inching closer to the realization that Hop is actually nothing like the boys who used to torment him in primary school; there’s a reason Gloria keeps him around, after all.

When Bede’s swallowed half the pint of heavy cream in a single gulp, clarity comes back to him. He wipes the back of his mouth, looking to Hop, who watches the whole thing with more than a little curiosity but not a single word.

“I owe you.”

It’s less an expression of gratitude and more a statement of fact, as Bede can see his aura intermingling with Hop’s now, pink and indigo linking as his fae nature compels him to return the favor.

But Hop just shakes his head, his arms behind his head as he stretches out his back and gives Bede a smile. “All good, although...actually yeah, I guess I sort of have a favor to ask.” When Bede remains silent, Hop continues on, growing sheepish as he mumbles, “Just, uh, can you keep looking out for Glo? She was real nervous moving all the way out to Ballonlea, and I’m glad she has someone like you around to keep her head on her shoulders.”

Bede takes another sip of cream, fixes Hop with a look, and feels the last of his acidity towards him fade out of his body as a corner of his lips quirk up.

“Of course I will.”

And in the morning, when Bede wakes up with the cold dread of Hop bringing up this entire ordeal to everyone and making fun of him, he finds that Hop keeps quiet about it, instead making conversation about how everyone slept and how he can help with breakfast.

This is the moment Bede decides he likes Hop.

...

New Year’s in Postwick actually takes place in a pub in Wedgehurst, which immediately becomes more crowded when Hop’s brother arrives with his girlfriend, Sonia (and it takes Bede no less than five minutes to recover from the fact that Hop is related to Leon, Leon of Wyndon United, Leon the star footballer nicknamed the Champion of Galar).

As they get closer to the actual countdown, Gloria tugs on his hand and leads him to the backroom, away from the crowd. He follows along, more than happy to actually have room to breathe for once tonight, and maybe a little happy that he’s alone with her in a hallway by the bathrooms as she rests her head on his shoulder and keeps holding his hand.

She looks up at him, eyes slightly hazy with the two glasses of cheap champagne in her system, and she sighs with a smile, “Thanks again for coming.”

He nods, doesn’t have anything else to say that won’t give him away, because he may also be slightly tipsy but it’s certainly not enough to have him really letting go of his multitude of inhibitions.

“And for giving Hop a chance,” she mumbles, thinking for a moment before adding with a giggle, “I know he gives you a hard time sometimes, but that’s how you know he likes you.”

The countdown is starting in the front, muffled all the way back here, but it seems to be the catalyst Bede needs to lean down closer to her, gripping her hand tighter as he looks into her eyes with a smirk.

“He might be the only one who likes me.”

Gloria seems to get the same idea, feel the same string of tension holding them back snap as the crowd chants the final seconds of this past year away.

“Now we both know that’s not true.”

The pub crowd roars as the new year rolls around, but Bede can’t hear it because Gloria’s kissing him and it’s even better than what he’s been imagining ever since they got on the train to Postwick. She has one hand on his cheek and the other on his chest, right above his heart as she presses her lips to his with that lopsided smile he loves so much, and she’s warm and green and he swears there are sparks.

Then there are actual sparks and Gloria pulls back with a slight yelp that turns into a laugh as Bede groans, resigning himself to his fate of jolts of glittering magic zapping off his body and into his air, unable to control it and unable to really care.

At least, not until a familiar voice gasps behind him, “Mate are you sparkling?”

They pale, slowly turning to find Hop standing in the hall, a party horn dangling out of the corner of his mouth as he watches Bede glitter and sparkle with wide, confused eyes.

This is the moment when Bede realizes he has to tell Hop he’s part fae.

#bederia #pokemon swsh #dressedinpinkshipping #bederiaweek #rival bede #trainer gloria #gif #me looking at this prompt and realizing the entire fic is fantasy: well shit #so this is a loose interpretation?? #more like looking into bede's weirder fae stuff and the clash between someone like him and someone 'normal' like hop #debated on having gloria bust out a 'get along sweater' for the two #the formatting - as always for slightly longer stuff like this - is better on ao3 #congrats on getting a cryptid boyfriend who craves cream at ungodly hours and considers cursing children gloria #listen i'm being real fast and loose with fae myths and customs but let me have fun