#he’ll fucking berate me to high hell ‘why did you say sorry? why did you say sorry? why did you say sorry?’

[teefconnoisseur]

there always has to be a reason.

#teef.con #pulling.teeth #cw cursing #[ venting ] #i can’t say shit around my dad #i can’t say fucking sorry without him making a big deal out of it! #he’ll fucking berate me to high hell ‘why did you say sorry? why did you say sorry? why did you say sorry?’ #he’s gotta make a big deal out of it has to get all pissy #sometimes i just say fucking sorry! but i can’t do that with him nooo especially not when he’s already in a mood #( not like i’m doing any better but whatever ) #i was driving and took a turn a little hard and the groceries were flopping around in the back #and of course he has to make it worse by doin’ his fucking sigh shit #i get it! my driving was horrible today! #i took the turn a bit hard! i let a bunch of people go past! i couldn’t maintain the fucking speed limit! #i couldn’t do THIS right i couldn’t do THAT right! #you don’t have to be so fucking passive aggresive about it asshole! #i’m ( emotionally ) beating myself up *for* you for fuck’s sake you don’t have to add onto it! #god! #…anygay that’s my vent for the day hope y’alls days are better :) <3

[1987vampire]

A Good Something? | Judd Birch

Fandom: Big Mouth Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: a hurt racoon, the f slur, just a lot of cussing.  Request: None! A/N: This isn’t established Judd x reader, this is meeting him for the first time so if I write more fics for him, I have something I can refer y’all back to :) If y’all want to see more Judd, an ACTUAL judd x reader, I can give y’all that ALSO the reader has dyed hair in this - not blue - it’s not super important but there’s a line in here that references it.  Extra: 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” your words were stressed as you slammed on the breaks. The rain made it hard to see; it wasn’t your fault that the animal had run into the middle of the road. You weren’t even going that fast, they should have been able to hear you.

You flung your door open harsher than you meant to, but you had to move quickly in case someone came speeding down the road, and you ended up bleeding out right next to whatever you had hit. The road was slick underneath your feet. You almost slipped and fell as you skidded to a stop in front of them. It was a racoon, a fat one at that, and it was staring up at you with big doe eyes. His leg was twisted, and he was letting out small grunts of pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry, little buddy,” You cried. “Can I pick you up? I’ll find somewhere to take care of you, I promise.” You hadn’t really expected an answer- it was an animal after all – but he nodded up at you, reaching his little paws out in hopes that you would help. You paused for a moment, taking in the situation and trying to figure out how to pick him up without hurting him.

You reached an arm under his butt and the other under his neck so you wouldn’t jostle his leg too much. He made little chirping sounds as you steadily walked over to your car, using your head as a shield so he wouldn’t get rain in his eyes. You let out a quiet stream of ‘I’m sorry’s as you did so. You made it into your car just in time to close the door as someone sped down, narrowly missing you as they went.

The little racoon shivered in the passenger seat, but you covered him in blankets and spare clothes you kept in the back, turning the heat in your car on high, trying to dry him and heat him up at the same time. He stared up at you thankfully as you put the car in gear, driving home even slower than before, never going over twenty-five-miles-an-hour.

Once you had reached your apartment, you had to sneak him in in hopes that your shitty landlord wouldn’t notice. He had a strict no animals policy, but this was a bit more important. Fortunately, you could sneak past his office by telling the raccoon to be quiet, since he seemed to be good at listening to directions somehow, and hiding him underneath the pile of clothes, passing him off as laundry.

Finally, inside the comforts of your apartment, you laid him down on the couch and set to researching what to do. After a few calls to a few vet offices and a lot of google searches, you were able to give him a makeshift cast and lay him in a way that would be best for his recovery. He was still talking in his little racoon language as you went. It really looked like he was trying to tell you something, but unfortunately, you were human and could not understand him.

That was until he held your hand in his little paws and pulled them to his neck. How had you not noticed the skinny collar he was wearing? His thick fur had almost completely covered it. Really, it wasn’t even a collar but a thick piece of cord with a circle nameplate in the middle.

You fiddled with it, reading the information attached. ‘Contact Judd. 555-4200’ was engraved onto it in someone’s personal handwriting instead of with a machine. “You know it’s illegal for someone to own a racoon around here, right,” you told him. The racoon made a noise of disapproval and fiddled with the collar again. “Do you want me to take it off?” He hissed in displeasure, making you stop abruptly. “Call him?” He nodded enthusiastically. “You’re a strange little guy, you know that, right?”

You pulled out your phone and dialed the number, tapping your foot against the floor anxiously. It took a few rings, and you were sure he wouldn’t pick up, when a deep voice answered the phone.

“Do you know what fucking time it is, right now?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned towards the first clock you could find—three o’clock in the morning. “I- I’m sorry. I can call back in the morning if you want. I just have this racoon with me, and his ankle is twisted because I accidentally hit him, and he had your number on his neck, and I- I-“

“Racoon?” His voice cut you off, and you could tell that he was waking up at the information. “You hit one of my fucking racoons?”

“He ran out into the middle of the road when I was driving. It was raining, so I could barely see, and I couldn’t swerve to miss him because there was a car on one side of the road and trees on the other. I wrapped his leg, and he’s resting, but he wanted me to call you, so here we are.”

He let out a few grumbles, and my fingers instinctively rose to my face so I could bite at my nails. “Fucking hell. Why was he in the middle of the road?” It was a rhetorical question, but you had almost wanted to respond even though you didn’t have an answer. “Does he have any distinctive marks on him? A missing toe, clipped ear, maybe he has uneven stripes.” Your eyes fell on the racoon again. He looked pretty normal besides the leg.

Almost like he knew what you were talking about, the racoon pulled one of his hands up to his forehead. After you pushed some of his fur to the side, you knew what he was pointing at. “He’s showing me that he has a scar on his forehead - like he split his forehead or something.”

“Of course it’s fucking Gerard – the fat fuck.”

You frowned at the statement. “He’s not that fat.”

“I mean the sentence in the most loving hatred filled way I can mean it. He knows I don’t mean it. Can you give the phone to him?”

This was the weirdest fucking situation you had ever been in. “Oh yeah, I guess.” you placed the phone in the racoon’s hand, and he made a chirp as a hello. You could hear Judd’s voice lowly in the speaker as he talked to him, the racoon making noises of acknowledgement as he went. You could make out very little besides him asking if you were taking care of him and then berating him for being stupid. The racoon – well, Gerard – kept trying to talk to him, but Judd refused to let up, barely giving him a moment to speak even if he did understand him.

After a few minutes, Gerard pushed the phone towards me, and I took it back. “So, what do you want me to do with him. Like, I can take him to yours, since I guess he belongs to you, or-“

“Fuck off. What are you – the feds? Give me your address, I’m not letting you see my shit.”

“Well, usually people ask me on a date before seeing my place, but-“ the words had slipped from my mouth before I thought about what I was saying, and my eyes immediately widened with embarrassment. “Oh my god- I’m sorry-“

He laughed loudly and pulled the phone away from his ear. “Well, we can think about that after I get the fat fucking faggot in your house.”

Your arms crossed. “You better part of that community if you’re using their slurs, fuckface.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mused. “Give me your address. I’m getting in my car.”

After giving him the information, you hung up, itching at your arm as you stared at Gerard. “He isn’t very nice, huh,” you told him. He chirped and shook his head as if defending him. “Is he really mean or is it a front?” He chirped at the second part, and I smiled. “Well, he’ll be here soon.”

And soon it was. It only took him about ten minutes before you heard a loud knocking on your door, banging more like. You jumped from sitting beside Gerard to the door, peeking out into the dark hallway, the latch still connected. “Judd?”

On the other side of the door was a decently tall man with black and blue hair, his sides shaved til it was only stubble. He was clad in a gray hoodie and black jeans, gray converse on his feet. His face was set in a glare as he stared at you. “Who the fuck else would it be?”

You shut the door and unlatched it, opening it wider so he could come in. “You knock like my landlord.”

“Landlord?” He pushed into your apartment, his sights set on the racoon lounging on your cheap couch. “You don’t look old enough to have a landlord.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m nineteen. This is my apartment.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder. “And you let some strange man in? Pretty stupid if you ask me.”

You frowned and pursed your lips. “I can kick you out- keep your racoon if you don’t start acting nice.”

“You could definitely try.” He picked up Gerard’s leg, inspecting it. “You did a good job with this. Almost as good as my work.”

“He was a good patient.”

Judd scoffed, sticking his hands underneath Gerard to pick him up just as you had earlier that night. “He was probably just basking in a pretty girl’s attention.”

Pretty? A smile was climbing onto your face. He was pretty, too, if he didn’t have such a sour attitude.

His eyes fell onto yours as he turned. “I like your hair by the way. The color suits you.” You ran your hand through your dyed hair, suddenly very conscious of how you looked. “You should try blue next time.” Gerard made a loud noise in his arms and reached out to you. Judd frowned down at him. “You had your fun, dumbass, but you’ve got to go home now. I’m sure the others are worried about you.”

“Others?”

Judd looked back at you. “Yeah, I was – uh – training a battalion of racoons to kill my younger brother.” He groaned quietly. “Now they’re good for catering and attacking intruders, but they refused to hurt him. Got a few scars because of it.”

You chuckled quietly and shook your head. “You sure are something, alright.”

His lips upturned the slightest bit into a tiny smile. “Is that a good something?”

“Sure, we can say that.”

You opened the door for him as he started taking strides towards it. He paused right past the entryway, something sitting on his tongue. “Try not to hit any more racoons, alright?”

Your fingers drummed along the door, and you laughed. “I’ll be sure to call you if I do. Just in case.”

He was already walking away when he responded. “You have my number.”

You hesitated on shutting the door right away, choosing to listen to him begin to berate the racoon as he walked down the hall, something along the lines of, ‘you make me come out in the middle of the night, scared shitless. You could have died, you fucking cunt.” He continued as he disappeared out of sight, but you didn’t even have the heart to ask him to cover the racoon as he left, preferring to just deal with your landlords berating the next day.

#judd birch #judd birch x reader #judd big mouth #judd big mouth x reader #big mouth #big mouth x reader

[devilrainbunnie]

Midnight Train

Dabi x Fem!Reader

cw: smut 18+ minors DNI, chikan, dubcon/noncon, pet names, pervy dabi

You stood in the train station, feeling a bit out of place. Looking around at your surroundings, and wondering when your train was going to arrive. It was running a little too late for your liking. Not to mention the fact that it was late, and cold, you didn’t even have a coat. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt, a short black skirt, and matching thigh highs with some simple school girl like shoes. Which was kind of ironic for you to wear. At the moment, you were currently in your second year of university. Just coming back from an outing with your friends, and cutting it off early because you had work the next morning. You were always overly cautious anywhere near trains, just due to the nature of pervy men, and the amount of times you’ve had experiences with them. Not even to mention how intense it is around this area. You berated yourself internally for deciding to wear something like this out, but now you had no choice but to just try and deal with it for now.

Absent-mindedly you scrolled on your phone, to give you some sort of distraction from the anxiety you felt beginning to stir in your stomach, tightening your thighs together, and keeping your purse close to your body. Then soon, the sounds of a fast moving vehicle, and wheels breaking to a halt brought you out from beneath your phones gaze. Looking up to greet the train. You patiently waited until it’s gears locked into place, and the doors opened. Waiting until the small crowd of people walked out of the cart, and then following into it. The cart was decently full of people. But to your absolute demise, there was some substance on some of the seats that looked like a spilled milk tea boba. Which was why you had to stand. Opting for the back of the cart that had some people also standing around. One of them meeting your gaze. Hooded, cerulean eyes following behind you, as you reached your spot to stand. He must’ve got on with me, you thought to yourself. The person was a bit of distant from you, staring at you without remorse. It was hard to make out their features with the large hood they wore over their head, and it made you anxious. Holding your body closer to itself.

He was looking at you like a predator stalking prey, hungry, and ready to devour. A look that quite honestly was making your heart absolutely flutter against your rib cage. Then you did something kind of stupid, pulling out your phone again, and trying to focus all of your attention on it. Trying to pay the hooded man no attention, out of your peripherals, you saw him lift his hood back. But again, you were too scared to see what he looked like. No matter how intense your curiosity was. After a short while into the trip following that, you checked again to see if he was there, and surprisingly he wasn’t. 

That’s when you froze, instantly recognizing the feeling of someone standing just behind you. Too scared to gaze behind you, and the train suddenly causing the cart to jolt, your body mushed right against his, as your wobbly knees made you unstable on your feet. Perfect timing.

“S-Sorry!” you cried out, lurching yourself forward. His body following yours.

“It’s quite alright, doll face.” a husky voice whispered behind you. “I like your skirt, it’s cute on you.”

You didn’t respond to this, your blood was running cold, and your breath hitched inside of your throat. He made it a point to step closer to you, the heat radiating off of him was almost too much. The stranger was only an inch or so from touching your body, a hand reached to you hair, tucking it to the side as he leaned in. Body flush with yours, as he whispered to you. “It’s not nice to ignore people when they compliment you.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“Is that all you know how to say?”

“I-I’m sorry I’m not trying to offend you--”

“Oh baby, you already did though. You hurt me real bad. Don’t you think I deserve something for my bleeding heart?” he taunted. Hands traveling in different directions, his large hand groping the flesh of your ass. This stranger just reached under your skirt to grab you, and  you to let out a little yelp, and his hand colliding with your mouth forcefully. “I don’t think you want to find out what happens to little girls who are loud, and bratty. I’m not gonna hurt you baby, just be a good girl, an’ let me take care of ya.” he raised the hand from your mouth to show you the tiny blue flame in his palm. Instinctively you shuddered, gulping down the lump in your throat. “Am I understood?”

You nodded, he grabbed your jaw, which forced you took look at him as his head appeared by you shoulder. “Use your words, like a good girl. Remember what we talked about?” he was quite attractive, despite all of the deep scars on his face. His black locks framing his face evenly, and looked quite fluffy. His scars looked painful, and so did all his staples. The piercings on his nostrils were cool though-- despite that, he looked like he had been through hell and back. It made you all the more confused, he was good looking enough to score any girl he wanted. Even with all of the scars and staples, girls probably drooled over it. So why did he bothering harassing you on a train? The man was probably just a full blown predator, and it made you start to panic worse.

“Y-yes, I-I’ll be quiet. I’ll be good.” you said with a wavering voice, tears forming in your eyes at the situation. 

“Mmm, such a good girl. Nice an’ sweet, just like I like ‘em.” he murmured against your neck, leaving a wake of wet kisses across it. Taking some experimental bites to try to find your sweet spot, and when he did, you writhed against him. Letting out the cutest little whimper. “Look at you, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” he was thankful he spotted you initially, he really found a prize that night.

He was walking back from a bar, and he saw you approaching the train station. You looked so sweet, so soft, and so easy to taint. The way your squishy thighs looked in your socks, and how your ass’ curve was more prominent due to the skirts little ruffling drove him to you. Eyes lingering over ever inch of your body, he needed you the second he saw your cute face too. He just knew you were a sweet little girl, and he wanted to taste you before he lost you for good. Honestly, you were such a good girl for him right now he debated on taking you home. Sure, you’d be a lovely little pet to have around the house. He could sure use the company, and you were just so goddamn cute. The man would love to wake up every morning to face fuck you, or violate you a little bit before he started his day. I mean how could he not— just look at the way your pretty e/c eyes leaked tears out, and your plump lips pouted as his fingers dove for your pussy. So pretty.

This sick man decided to lick your face to wipe away the tears from your stained, heated cheeks. His long, calloused fingers rubbing against your clothed slit, making your hips buck at the pleasure of it. Little strangled moans being held down in your throat. Waiting for your slick to seep through the pretty light blue cotton, and keep it for later. “Has anyone ever touched you like this before? Hmm? Does it feel good?”

“N-No, plea-ah, please j-just stop.” you cried out, sniffling after you choked out the words. His fingers began to push your pretty little panties to the side, moving his fingers up and down your cunt. Finally able to feel that you were actually becoming a bit wet, he chuckled behind you. You let out a soft moan, the first one he was able to actually get out of you.

“Mm, you’re getting more wet by the second. You sure?” he teased. His opposing hand sleeping inside of your sweater, pushing a breast out of its cup, and squishing the flesh in his palm. Tweaking the nipple between his fingers, arching your back and wincing at the pleasurable pain. “You’re so sensitive, and I haven’t even put my dick in you.”

“Pl-please. I- just want to g-go home.” you whimpered as he continued to violate you, finding your clit and pinching the bud between his fingers. Watching as your breaths became ragged, and the way your knuckles turned white as you held on to the metal pole. The way his fingers were working against your untouched pussy right now, was making it drool. You hated how much that was turning you on.

“Turn your head.” he commanded, and you did. Meeting once again, his face at your shoulder, this time his hand slipped from your breast. Grabbing the opposing side of your face and slamming your lips against his. Surprisingly, his kiss wasn’t at all overbearing, or forceful as you thought it was going to be. It was slow, and somehow passionate, despite the situation. You kissed him back, just trying to be compliant. His lips were soft, despite his lower lip being badly damaged, and he knew how to use it well. The hand quickly knotted itself in your hair, causing you to gasp, and open your mouth for him. His wet muscle tangling in with yours, and with that, a deep guttural groan left the back of his throat. Combined with your little whimpers, created an odd symphony of pleasure.

With your mouth occupied, two of his fingers began running across your slit. Gathering the arousal between his fingers to act as lubricant. Then plunging the digits straight into your throbbing, and tight hole. Which made your body act on instinct, and you gasped loudly in his mouth. He pulled back, chuckling at how much you were reacting now. Panting like a bitch in heat, biting back a plethora of moans inside of your throat. He really wanted to hear you crying out to him, and moaning, but he didn’t want to cause too much of a scene. Who knows, if he’s really feeling up for risking everyone’s safety, mostly his own for some snatch— he’ll fucking do it.

“Do you feel good?” he asked you, kissing up your jaw again.

“Y-yes.” you whispered, your small hands struggle to stay up against the pole. The pace of his fingers began to speed up, causing a horrid squish-y sound to be heard in the atmosphere around the two of you. He was practically cumming at the sound of your wet sex being violated and how well you were taking him.

“Mm, I wish I could hear all those pretty sounds you’re tryin’ to hold back. God, you are just killin’ me tonight.” he moaned into your ear, taking it upon himself to start feverishly pepping your skin with his kisses as he pumped you closer, and closer to your end. 

He began noticing the way you were starting to clench against him, he assumed you were beginning to enjoy yourself fully now. His other hand snaked its way down your body to toy with your clit again as well, without intent, you mewled at the sensation. One of your hands coming you to cover your mouth, you anxiously looked around the cart. For some reason, no one was looking. Either they really didn’t want to look, or they were utterly disturbed by the sight in the far corner of the cart. Since no one was paying attention, you decided to act purely on desire since you were now worked up. Letting go of the pole you were holding on to, which the man behind you was quick to notice, thinking you were about to try to fight him off, the hand toying with your clit put a bruising hold on you midsection. You winced, both at the sudden loss of your breath, but also the fingers now violently crashing into your cunt, his breath ragged in your ear, causing a chill to run down your spine. “C-can I turn around?” you asked him. His movements stopped, you couldn’t see but he was looking at you completely dumbfounded.

“Why?” he said, sounding a little offended.

“Well t-there’s not a-lot of people in here. No one i-is going to care, I... liked uhm, kissing.” you murmured shyly, feeling pathetic and disgusted with yourself for wanting more. But the throbbing inside of your womb was now becoming almost unbearable, you could use something to take the edge off.

“What’s your name, baby?” he asked, his chin now resting against your shoulder.

“F/n, why?”

“F/n... you’re very naughty, you know that? I mean what kind of dirty slut wants to start kissing someone who just grabbed ‘em on the train? Maybe I was right, you are a special girl, huh?” he was quick to turn you around, pulling his hood back over his head, but not all the way. Your bodies were touching, and resting against the pole. So that way you could actually look at him. The fingers that were inside you, stuck straight into his mouth. Cleaning off your natural essence off his fingers like he had eaten the best meal he’d ever had. “At least you taste good. Sweet. Like fuckin’ honey or somethin’. C’mere pretty, I’ll let you try.” he leered down at you, his jagged scars twisting up in a cocky smile. Grabbing you by the back of your head, and crashing his lips against yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth immediately, snaking a hand of his into your hair. The other one traveling down south once again, pushing right into your slippery walls. Mewling against his tongue.

The sight must’ve been so erotic, they way you were pulling his face closer to yours by holding the back of his neck. Moaning, and panting into the heated kiss. His fingers inside of your pussy scissoring, and harshly pressing right against your cervix. God his fingers are so long.

He yanked your head back, looking at your features. Drinking in the sight of your half lidded eyes, kiss swollen lips and flushed expression. Your eyes silently begging him to keep at it, removing your arms from his. The man bit his lip, leaning back a tad to put his hand around your neck, reveling at how pretty and soft you looked like this. His hand never stopping it’s assault inside of you. “Sweet, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“How close are you?” he asked, picking up his pace.

“Mmm, c-close. So close. Nngh.” The hand around your neck squeezed harder at the sides, making your eyes roll back as the thrusts of his hand picked up. The man stood over you once more, watching how your eyes kept rolling back into your skull, and how you biting so hard on your lip he was worried it might split. 

“Dabi.” he said, waiting for you to reply, and giving your neck a break from the squeezing. 

“H-Huh?” 

“My name, I want you to say it. Say it when you’re cummin’, I want you to remember who made you feel this good.” he kissed your cheek. “Will you be a good girl, an’ do that for me?”

“Yes D-Dabi. I’ll- be good.”

“You’re completely falling apart with just my touch.” he chuckled, leaning to your ear again, his hands dropping from your neck, to your thigh. Feeling to flesh of your ass again, this time he tried to hold your thigh to his hip, like he was expecting you to let him carry you. But in all honesty, it’s so he could rut his hips against your thigh and try to pretend for a second he was fucking you. Dabi reveled in the feeling of your soft skin against his fingertips. Bet it would feel even nicer against his dick. “I could fuck you right now, just whip out my cock, and stick it right in. I bet you’d like that huh? Me fucking you in front of all these people? I bet you wouldn’t even try to be quiet. Dirty, dirty girl. Maybe I should, huh-”

“No! No, p-please not here. Not in public. P-please Dabi.”

“I like seeing you beg like that, so I won’t this time ‘round.” he attached his mouth to your neck. Making it a point now to mark his territory, and watch you squirm. Wait-- this time around?! In that moment, you felt you were seconds away from bursting and his words meant nothing. His fingers inside of you continued to curl, and push you in all the right places. Your body quickly beginning to flood with a familiar euphoric sensation, knees growing weak, and the blissful feeling of stomach growing tight was all you could think about.

“D-Dabi.” you mewled out, mouth left to hang open. Your hands quickly clutching the jacket he was wearing, trying to feel like you had some control. “Please d-don’t stop, p-lease- oh!” 

He stared into your face as you grew closer. Dabi liked how hard you were tugging at his jacket, it confirmed for him that you were actually growing a lot closer than he thought. Despite the feeling of your gooey walls clenching around his fingers as if it was trying to suck them in. “Cum for me baby, you’re so close.”

“Dabi-- oh God, fuck- Dabi!” you cried out, a little bit louder than you intended. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, releasing the overwhelming feeling of your formerly restrained orgasm. Your tight cunny was clenching vigorously around him as he continued to pump into you, enjoying as you struggled to breathe due to how hard you had just came. Every inch of your body was jolting, trying to adjust to the come down of the feeling, and the man above you was watching with a smile. Dabi brought his free hand up that wasn’t covered in slick, and wiped some sweat, as well with stray hairs from your face. 

“Open up.” he said, removing his hand from your aching, and pleased cunt, shoving them into your mouth. Suddenly alarmed by the feeling of tasting your own arousal, and having his fingers try to climb their way down your throat. “Suck.”

So that’s what you did-- suck on his fingers, and he pumped them as well. Watching your pretty mouth try to take all of his abuse, and after he deemed them clean enough, he pulled them out. “You did so well for me tonight. We a couple minutes left of this ride, let’s make out.”

Before you could even respond, his tongue was already in your mouth and silencing you. During the time it took for you guys to get to your train stop, you did exactly that. Passionately making out for all to see, against a pole inside of a train cart. His hands palming your ass under your skirt like before, and your hands running through the tendrils of inky black locks. Honestly, you really should feel more ashamed than you currently are. Making out with the same man who was making you cry not even fifteen minutes ago, and letting him grind his erection against your thigh. But, you needed to fix that ache in your womb. You needed someone, or something, to make that coil snap.

Then soon, the train was beginning to halt to a stop, and the two of you pulled away. Your hands still locked into his hair. Holding his face close to yours. “That was fun, but I oughta head off now. I’ll be lookin’ out for you, so don’t do anything stupid, or run off on me.” you nodded, feeling threatened by his words, but also excited at the opportunity to see him again. Never in a million years would you think this of all things would happen, but it wasn’t anything to complain about. He pulled you in for another kiss, and following it by pressing another one to your cheek. “Get home safe now, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” you said in a hushed voice, as he pulled away from your body. Pulling his hood further over his face. Leaving you a stick, sweaty mess in the now emptying train. Adjusting your skirt, and top, combing through your now horribly messed locks. 

Before stepping out, you got a disgusted look from an older woman in the back of the cart. Shaking her head at you. But it made you let out a little laugh, stepping out of the cart on to the platform. Eyes scanning the scene for any sight of your scarred, and disturbed prince charming. But by that time he was long gone. Which kind of made you sad, but also relieved. Your mind was hazy, and clouded with a confused lust. Wondering if his words were true— were you going to see him again? Did you even want to? Why weren’t you freaking out right now? What is going on?

The entire walk home, was filled with your mind being so loud it was drowning out all of your senses.

Including the one that could’ve sensed the man following you home.

Don’t worry though, he just wanted to make sure his pet got home safely.

#dabi smut #dom dabi #tw chikan #tw: dark fics #tw dark fic #dabi x reader #dabi fan fiction #tw dubcon #tw noncon #tw smut

[charincharge]

I Don’t Want To Wait, seven

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompt:

Sharing is caring. Now, give me the hoodie!

“I’m never drinking again,” Aelin moaned as she rolled over on Lysandra’s bed, shoving her head under the pillow. She knew Rowan had censored himself filling in the gaps of her night. Saying she was an angry drunk, though accurate, was not quite specific enough.

Apparently, she and Rowan had had a screaming match in the kitchen that he failed to mention, and Aelin had zero recollection of.

“The entire kitchen cleared out,” Lysandra explained, “Lyria included. But you were… pretty loud.”

Aelin groaned into the pillow.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

Lysandra patted Aelin’s foot, trying to be comforting, but Aelin didn’t want to be comforted right now. She kicked Lysandra’s hand away.

“This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Lysandra snorted and poked her bare foot. “At least he thought you were talking about someone else?”

Aelin peeked out from beneath the pillow and frowned again. “That is so much worse. Now he thinks I’m mad at him for not letting me kiss NOX OWEN.”

“What else was he supposed to think? You can’t exactly blame him. You smacked his drink out of his hand and started screeching about how he ruined your kissing plans.”  

“As if I’d ever have a chance with Nox. I barely even have a chance with Rowan, and he’s been my best friend since we were eight.” Aelin sighed loudly. “Whatever. Everything is ruined now. He’s going to prom with Lyria.”

Lysandra frowned, the pity evident in her bright green eyes as she flopped down next to Aelin on her comforter. “I’m sorry, boo.”

“Tell me one more time,” Aelin sighed. “Exactly what we both said. Every word.”

“In the kitchen?”

Aelin nodded.

“You stared at Lyria’s hand for like… a full ten seconds. Then you smacked the drink out of Rowan’s hand, and screamed – Where’s my drink, bitch? And he very calmly said, What the fuck, Aelin? Because… you know. The drink spilled all over the floor. Then you screamed at the top of your lungs, I NEEDED ANOTHER DRINK, AND YOU RUINED EVERYTHING. And he did that eyebrow thing you hate and asked, What did I ruin? And then you screamed back KISSING PLANS. That’s when the kitchen started emptying out.” Aelin groaned.

“It’s so much worse hearing it again.”

Lysandra paused. “Do you want me to repeat the rest?” And Aelin nodded tentatively. It was masochistic, but she needed to hear it all again.

Lysandra sighed loudly, knowing the worst was about to happen. “You fucking raged, Aelin. You incoherently started screaming – I HAD KISSING PLANS. AMAZING REAL FIRST KISS PLANS AND YOU RUINED THEM BY GETTING DISTRACTED.” She crinkled her nose at that. “And it looked like Rowan was going to say something, but you just kept going on and on about your ruined kissing plans. You called him an idiot….” Aelin cringed. She couldn’t believe how belligerent she was. “And then you screamed, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO COME BACK WITH MY DRINK. THE DRINK WAS INTEGRAL TO MY KISSING PLAN. Which, by the way, nice SAT vocab drop while you were blackout drunk. That was impressive.”

Aelin couldn’t do anything more than flick off her friend. She was too busy berating herself for all the stupid things she didn’t remember saying when she was drunk. She’d been this close to telling Rowan she’d planned to kiss him. And she’d said FIRST KISS. It wasn’t like she hadn’t kissed anyone before – she totally had. There’d been several games of truth or dare which included kisses and a braces-filled makeout session at Camp Terrasen in eighth grade. She’d just meant their first kiss. She wanted to die.

“Then he got really mad himself and screamed back at you that you should have told him about your kissing plans, so he didn’t ruin your night. And you screamed back it didn’t matter since it was already ruined and clearly you could get your own drink.”

“I think that’s when he realized you’d had a little too much to drink that he’d clearly missed. And he sought out Nox, who explained the drink chugging, and while that happened, you literally chugged another drink and then launched yourself at Salvaterre.”

“I have to apologize,” Aelin said, but Lysandra shook her head.

“He didn’t bring it up for a reason.” Lysandra softened her eyes, running her hand through Aelin’s freshly showered hair. “I think once you punched Lorcan he chocked everything up to wasted nonsense.”

Aelin shoved her face into Lysandra’s pillow and let out a low laugh. What a nightmare. “I’m just grateful you and Elide were there to change me,” she said. “I can’t even imagine my embarrassment if Rowan had to peel me out of puke-covered clothes.”

“Yeah, you owe us for that one.”

Aelin’s mouth dropped in shock. “You left me to sleep on the bathroom floor!”

Lysandra laughed. “Only because you scissor kicked Rowan in the knee when he and Wes tried to take you up the stairs.” She looked at Aelin. “He’s not mad at you, Ace. He was going to let you sleep in his bed. Puke-covered and all.”

Aelin rolled onto her back. “But he’s going to prom with Lyria,” Aelin repeated again.

“She’s nice,” Lysandra quipped, causing Aelin to glare at her. “But she’s not you.” Aelin’s lips quirked upward at that. “He’ll figure it out eventually,” she said, letting Aelin breathe a sigh of relief. She really hoped Lysandra’s assessment was true. “Or he won’t, and you’ll spend the rest of your life pining away.”

Aelin snorted loudly. “Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome, bitch.”

Lysandra paused, her green eyes soft and nervous instead of holding their usual brash confidence as she continued. “I know you and Rowan are special best friends with, like, a special best friend song and everything.”

“We do not have a special best friend song?” Aelin interrupted, causing Lysandra to laugh and boop her nose softly.

“You do. It’s ‘Dancing In The Moonlight,’ which is adorable, but not my point.”

“And that is…?”

“I know I’ll never be Rowan, but I’m still a best friend, and if you need to talk about things… you can tell me. Especially if they’re Rowan things.”

Aelin bit her lip and breathed nervously. “I’m glad you know.”

“Oh, babe,” Lysandra laughed, rubbing Aelin’s shoulder softly. “I’ve known about your feelings for years. I’m just glad you finally told me.”

Aelin groaned and shoved her head under the pillow again.

~*~

Dear journal,

I don’t know who else to talk about this with. I know Lysandra KNOWS now, but I just need to vent to someone impartial, okay? Things with Rowan are so weird… because they’re not weird at all. After Lys told me what I screamed at him, I was sure he’d finally come out and clear the air, but it’s been a WHOLE WEEK, and he hasn’t said anythingggg. Everything is just…. normal??? He even let me keep the lacrosse sweatshirt Lys and El put me in. I tried to give it back, but he told me it was mine now. What the hell is THAT about? What does it mean?

I want to tell him I know about the fight, but then I’d have to explain I was screaming about kissing him, and I don’t know if he wants to hear that anymore.

All I know is that every time I look at him I feel like I’m about to explode. Not to mention I’m about to go suit shopping with him for ~PROM~ and I’m kind of freaking out. What is Rowan in a TUX going to do to my body? I might just combust there on the spot. Maybe he’s right. I should ask Lys to teach me how to … you know (masturbate). I tried to watch a video (I KNOW), but I got a million pop ups and got too nervous and shut my laptop off. Maybe I should look on my phone next time. Do phones get pop ups?

UGH OKAY. HE’S HERE. WISH ME LUCK.

Xo, Aelin

5/21/20 – age 16

Aelin slammed her journal shut and shoved it under her stack of decoy notebooks in her nightstand just before Rowan appeared in her doorway.

“Ready to go, Ace?”

She nodded and stretched her arms above her head, shaking out her hand, which was cramped from writing so neatly in her journals.

“Don’t you want to bring a jacket?” Rowan asked, looking at Aelin’s bared stomach pointedly.

“It’s almost June, Buzzard, don’t be such a prude,” she answered, her arms self-consciously crossing over the chest of her cropped t-shirt.

He rolled his eyes, leading them back downstairs, and Aelin grabbed her purse and followed. “Don’t come complaining to me when you’re too cold.”

“I would never,” she gasped, feigning shock. “And don’t forget you owe me post-shopping ice cream.”

“Oh, bring me back a pint of chocolate peanut butter,” Rhoe called out from the kitchen, his blue eyes peering out from behind the giant pages of the Orynth Times.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Aelin called out, passing by the kitchen with a wave.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Aelin doubled back and peered into the kitchen where her exhausted looking dad sat. “Rowan is taking you shopping? Has hell frozen over? Rowan, how did you get conned into this?”

Aelin looked up at Rowan, who scratched his head uncomfortably. “She’s actually taking me shopping. I need a tux for prom…” Rowan trailed off, his cheeks turning slightly pink as Rhoe returned a surprised look at the child who was practically his surrogate son.

“Ae, do you need a dress?” he asked, suddenly looking worried. Her dad would give her the moon if he could, but supporting a daughter on a firefighter’s single salary was often more than he could manage.

“Oh, no,” Aelin shook her head, carefully concealing her hurt feelings with a devilish smirk. “Rowan got asked to junior prom.”

Rhoe’s eyes widened, flickering between his daughter and Rowan rapidly, before smiling softly. “An older woman, eh?”

“It’s not like that…” Rowan grumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly as he looked down at the ground at his well-worn running sneakers. “I barely know her. I just said yes to be polite…”

“Sure, Buzzard,” Aelin said, poking Rowan’s side. He frowned at her unhappily, flicking her finger away.

Rhoe barked out a loud laugh. “Have fun, you two.” He fixed Aelin with a serious stare. “Make sure he picks out something really embarrassing, kiddo.” His stare broke as he winked, sending them off on their way, Rowan rushing out of the house as fast as his feet could carry him.

“Oh yeah,” Aelin laughed. “I’m putting him in blue ruffles first.”

“You are not!” Rowan called from outside, already starting up the jeep.

Aelin waved goodbye to her dad and hopped into the passenger seat, cranking up her mix, which was still playing in Rowan’s car.

~*~

“I look stupid,” Rowan whined, shoving his hands into the pockets of the umpteenth different styled tux the shop attendant had pulled for him. This one was black, again, but some kind of shiny material, and the pants had a stripe up the side.

Aelin couldn’t help the small frown that tugged at her lips at how picky her best friend was being. She honestly assumed the boy who mostly lived in athletic shorts and t-shirts would be fine with the first suit he tried on, but he was being finnicky and far too particular for someone who “just said yes to be polite.” And it was starting to get on her nerves. What she thought was going to be an exercise in sexual restraint was actually just trying her patience.

“Shiny, no good!” the salesman agreed, his accent curling thickly around his criticism.

Rowan sighed and turned to look at Aelin, who did her hardest to neutralize her facial expression before he saw her frown, but it was too late.

“I knew it,” Rowan grumbled, peeling the jacket off and handing it to the salesman, who cleared out the full dressing room again, and Aelin gnawed at her lip, trying to think of something comforting to say.

“It’s not bad…”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Ace.”

“Language!” the salesman snapped, and Rowan’s mood lifted for a brief second as he laughed in shock, his eyes going straight to Aelin, as if to say Can you believe this guy? She shook her head in agreement, and she was relieved to see a smile on his face for the first time in two hours.

Aelin pushed herself off the small chair in the communal dressing room space and approached Rowan. She cocked her head to the side and let her eyes shamelessly trail his form. He was right about this particular suit. It did look stupid. But none of the suits, all in differing shades and cuts of black, had looked right. As her gaze trailed back up to his face, his breath held, patiently waiting for her conclusion, Aelin had a stroke of genius.

“Black isn’t your color, Ro. It’s washing you out.” Rowan’s face scrunched at her assessment, clearly unpleased. But the stark contrast between the white and black, combined with his pale hair was doing something to his usually tanned and glowing skin, and it wasn’t good.

“I refuse to wear a light blue suit,” he said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Not something bright. Just… subtle color,” Aelin explained, and the salesman started nodding rapidly.

“Ah, yes, the Bellissima is correct. Color. Yes, color! COLOR!”

He excitedly ran back into the shop and returned with suits in various dark shades of navy and emerald and maroon slung over his shoulder. Aelin watched in amusement as he shoved Rowan back into the dressing room, telling him to try the green first.

Aelin stood impatiently, arms crossed and leaning against one of the 360 mirrors, hoping against all hopes that her assessment was correct. She wasn’t sure she could endure another two hours of this. Another five minutes would be bad enough, to be honest.

When Rowan walked out to the small platform, she knew she’d nailed itt. Her pulse thrummed loudly, and she could feel her lips part, inhaling a large gasp into her drying mouth. Rowan looked…

“Wow,” Aelin whispered at the same time Rowan said, “Huh,” peering into the mirror.

Aelin stood up straighter, pushing herself up and getting a closer view of the striking boy in front of her. The green was so dark, it just barely contrasted with the black lapels and trim of the suit, but the color brough a warmth to his face that had been missing, the green of his irises prominent beneath his long blonde lashes. Those bright eyes peered over at Aelin, searching for her reaction, and she couldn’t help the soft blush that appeared across her skin as they locked with hers.

Rowan cleared his throat, coughing lightly as he smoothed the jacket out, pulling the lapels gently. “Uh, yeah. Good call, Ace.”

Aelin lifted her long hair into a high bun, needing something to do with herself besides stare and to allow the breeze of the store fan to cool the back of her neck.

“The one!” the salesman cooed, running his hands across Rowan’s broad shoulders proudly. “We did it!”

When Aelin looked back up, she was surprised to see Rowan’s eyes still on her, gauging her reaction with curiosity. He raised a blonde brow in her direction, and Aelin was afraid for a second that she was going to launch herself at him right there and kiss his face.

Instead swallowed loudly and clapped her hands, shaking off the intensity of his gaze and smiled broadly. “About time, Buzzard. Now, let’s go get me some ice cream.”

The moment was broken as Rowan rolled his eyes and made his way back into the changing room, slinging the suit over the door as Aelin exhaled and slumped back into the chair for a brief reprieve.

“Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream,” Aelin chanted as Rowan paid for the tux rental.

Rowan slung his arm over Aelin’s shoulders and smiled down at her. “Fine. You earned it.”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Aelin said, as the salesperson shouted, “Language!” at them again, as they ran out of the store, both giggling.

By the time they reached their favorite ice cream spot, the sun had set, and the swift down current breeze of the Staghorn Mountains had started up, cooling the temperature significantly from the balmy afternoon Aelin had dressed for.

She looked out at the dark water, shivering slightly as she took her first bite of mint chocolate chip. Rowan bit back a smile as he wrapped his hoodie around himself tighter, keeping the winds out, happily eating his cookie dough without danger of freezing to death.

On her third bite, Aelin finally broke. “Oh come on, Buzzard, sharing is caring. Now, give me the hoodie.”

“I told you to bring your jacket!” Rowan laughed just as a particularly strong gust cut against Aelin’s exposed skin, making her shudder. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he snorted, opening up the hoodie and nodding to her. “Get in here.”

“Really?” she asked, teeth chattering.

“You’re the worst,” he joked as he unzipped his hoodie and held it open, and Aelin practically raced into it. Rowan’s smile grew as he zipped the hoodie back up, which shockingly stretched large enough to fit them both. Just barely. Aelin pressed her cheek against his chest, soaking in his warmth as his free hand rubbed her back. She shivered again, but this time having nothing to do with the cold, warmth and desire radiating through her body as she felt every twitch of his muscles, every shallow breath.

“Better?” he asked, and she nodded, smiling happily into her next bite of ice cream. She savored each bite, not wanting the moment to end too soon. Each bite tasting better than the last, surrounded in Rowan’s grasp and heat. She breathed in, his heady scent filling her head, his embrace feeling so perfect around her. Her stomach calmed, everything suddenly feeling so right.

“Thanks, Ace,” he said quietly, resting his chin on her head. “I know that’s not how you wanted to spend your Saturday.”

Aelin finished her last bite and leaned harder into his warm chest. “I don’t care how we spend our Saturdays,” Aelin admitted. “As long as we’re hanging out.”

“Cool,” Rowan said, sounding so lame that Aelin couldn’t help but laugh, and she could feel him hiding his own smile in her hair. “Okay, we have to get back into the car,” he laughed outright, his hands rubbing circles onto her back, and Aelin shook her head into his shirt. No, she wanted to stay just like this forever.

“I’ll freeze to death!” she countered instead.

“We’ll just have to make a run for it. I don’t plan on losing you tonight, Ace.” Aelin groaned, but Rowan knew he’d won. “On the count of three,” he warned her. “One… two…” On three, he unzipped the hoodie, and Aelin screeched, her voice raising to glass shattering levels as she sprinted towards the jeep, wind whipping through her thin t-shirt and cutting against her warmed skin like ice.

Rowan unlocked the jeep as they ran, and they both launched themselves into their seats simultaneously, joyful laughter bubbling up in both of them and filling the car.

Aelin watched Rowan as he turned the car on, and immediately cranked up the heat. Her stomach fluttered again, and she crossed her legs to quell the ache of desire that had begun to take over her body.

As stealthily as she could, she pulled out her phone and texted Lysandra again.

I need some help.

Her phone lit up with Lysandra’s returning message almost immediately. XYZ kind of help???

Aelin snorted at the use of Rowan’s code name. Lysandra had suggested if Aelin ever wanted to talk about Rowan in text, she probably shouldn’t use his name. Just in case he ever saw. Aelin had immediately suggested his initials, RW, but Lysandra smartly pointed out he was the only RW they knew. Lysandra cackled, suggesting XYZ – because it came right after W. And with any luck, Aelin would be coming soon.

Aelin’s cheeks flushed as she texted back. Can you teach me/instruct me/explain how to masturbate?

OMG!!!!! MY BABY BUTTERFLY, YES YES YES GIRLLLLL!!!

Aelin laughed softly, and Rowan looked at her curiously, from her cheeks to the phone lit up in her hand.

“Who could you possibly be texting right now?” he asked, and if Aelin didn’t know better she would have thought he maybe sounded slightly put out.

“Lysandra,” she answered, a little too quickly, but her heart was beating too fast at the inappropriate back and forth she and Lys were having, especially since she wanted to fantasize about the person sitting right next to her while she… learned.

“What about?” Rowan asked, curious.

Aelin bit her lip. “You were right,” she said, her face probably beet red. She was grateful he couldn’t entirely see the color in the dark.

“About what?” he asked. “I mean, I’m often right about a lot of things,” he added cheekily.

“Masturbation,” Aelin replied as confidently as she could, while feeling like her skin was going to burn her alive. The car swerved slightly as Rowan snapped his head to look in her direction.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice sounding strained and high.

“Lysandra’s going to teach me.”

Aelin could feel her best friend’s gaze puncturing holes into her flaming cheeks as he searched for something to say. But when she looked up, she couldn’t speak fast enough.

“ROWAN!” she shouted as the jeep crashed straight into the taillights of the car in front of them.

~*~*~*~

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#rowaelin #high school au #i don't want to wait au #charincharge writes

[echo-bleu]

straight through the smoke (3)

Summary: After Magnus breaks up with Alec and chooses to align with the  Seelie Queen, pulling the Downworld Cabinet with him, Alec is arrested  by the Clave for high treason. Will Magnus find out in time to save him  from a death sentence?

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

On AO3

Ten minutes left.

Alec stumbles when his guards push him roughly toward the center of the courtyard, struggling to regain his balance with his hands still cuffed in front of him. One of the guards swipes his stele along the cuffs to remove them, and Alec flexes his wrists to help the blood flow back into his hands. He takes a pause to steady himself, then raises his head high and walks the rest of the way.

The large rune carved in the stone of the courtyard hasn’t been used in a long time. There hasn’t been an execution in the New York Institute in over a century. Alec has to fight himself not to look down as he steps in the middle of the rune, instead holding Imogen’s gaze until she looks away.

Beyond the no-man’s-land created by the rune and its safety circle, the courtyard is crowded. They’re all familiar faces, people Alec has led for most of the last decade. There is no hunger, no blood-thirst in their eyes. In fact, the atmosphere of the courtyard is muted and heavy. Disapproving.

Imogen is in front of the crowd, holding an adamas staff. Behind her, the Institute’s core stone of adamas has been set on a small platform, waiting to power the staff. The staff would normally be handled by a Silent Brother, Alec knows, but there must not have been any within the warlocks’ wards. Imogen is taking it upon herself to do the deed, just like she almost did with Valentine – or the man she thought was Valentine. Alec is looking at his executioner.

The anger has settled in him, and then evaporated. There is no time left for bitterness, not when he has mere minutes to live. Imogen doesn’t matter.

He tears his eyes away from her to survey the crowd. Even the youngest Shadowhunters of the Institute are here, some of them barely turned thirteen, and Alec is immensely grateful that his parents took Max back to Alicante as soon as he was stable. He couldn’t stand to look at his little brother today.

He wonders if Imogen has deemed it necessary to inform his parents, if they’re raising hell to save him from this, powerless, in Alicante, or if they secretly think he deserves no less. He’ll never know.

Despite being crammed around the safety circle, his people are standing apart from Imogen’s goons, like they’re showing their disapproval by isolating the Clave’s envoys into a group of their own. The Institute’s Shadowhunters are all standing at attention, in their formal uniforms, the Institute’s insignia on display on their chests. Alec chokes up. Every one of them seems to be wearing the—his Institute’s symbol instead of the more conventional Clave insignia for such an occasion – it’s a deliberate show of support to him, one that Imogen can’t take away from them.

Alec locks eyes with his second-in-command Jens, his mentor, who looks back at him with his gaze full of rage and sorrow. He breaks his stance to place his hand over his insignia, just above his heart. Alec nods at him, trying to make his gratitude apparent in his expression. Jens will handle the Institute until Imogen or the Consul appoints someone else – maybe Jace again, unless his association with Alec has tainted him irremediably.

Alec tries to meet everyone’s eyes, even briefly, in the time Imogen gives him. Sixteen-year-old Kara Svec, a recent transfer from Prague, who Alec has been taking under his wing. She’s crying silently, her head held high, and Alec gives her a tiny smile. Sandra, his favorite IT specialist and Alec’s de facto secretary, since the Clave has yet to assign him a real one. They won’t need to anymore. Andrej, the weapons instructor who replaced Hodge, and his herd of teenage Shadowhunters. Underhill, his brand new Head of Security. Even Lindsay Wayglide and Carson Strongmill, who grumble at each of Alec’s new briefings, are wearing their Institute insignia.

Jace and Izzy are standing at the front, their expressions a mix of horror and trepidation that even their best attempt can’t hide. They’re holding hands tightly, not bothering to stand at attention. It’s clear that they’re still hoping that something will stop the execution, but it’s too late for that now. Alec wishes that he could hug them one last time.

Magnus isn’t there. Alec wonders if he hallucinated his presence yesterday, or if Magnus is out there somewhere, trying to stop Valentine. He has his people to think about. Alec berates himself for hoping that he’d be able to look into his lover’s eyes as he died.

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood, you have been declared guilty of high treason, and sentenced to death by immolation,” Imogen declares, her tone emotionless. “Do you have any last words?”

Alec, turns away from Imogen, clasping his hands behind his back in one last show of respect in the direction of his people. He looks down at the rune on the floor and tries to put his thoughts together, swallowing.

“I was lucky,” he says quietly. The silence in the courtyard seems to grow deeper, expectant. “I was lucky to fall in love with a man as wonderful as Magnus Bane. A man who is a warlock, a Downworlder. Someone that my entire upbringing had conditioned me to despise, and yet the man I met and fell in love with was nothing like what I had been told.”

Alec blinks back the tears coming to his eyes, letting his memories of Magnus wash over him. He can barely remember, now, why their breakup felt so important, why he didn’t run to Magnus and apologize, to spend one more day, one more minute with him. Wasted chances, all of them.

“Nephilim, Downworlders, Mundanes,” he continues, this time raising his head high to meet the eyes boring into him. “We’re all people. When it comes down to it, we’re all the same, with the same faults and the same hopes. I love a Downworlder, and if the Clave is going to execute me for that, then so be it. I am not ashamed, and the only regret I have is that it took me too much time to understand how deeply we Shadowhunters are failing at fulfilling our duty.” Alec turns to look at Imogen, letting his hands fall to his sides. He refuses to show her any more deference. “Our prejudices deform our understanding of the world until it is unrecognizable, and that is how ideas like those of the Circle are born.”

Imogen opens her mouth, but Alec turns away from her again. “The coming times may bring war and grief to our doorstep,” he meets Jens’ gaze. “I am sorry that I will not be there to meet them at your side. But when there comes a time when you have to take a stand, I urge you to think. Is caring for other people a crime that should be punished, just because those people are different from us?

“I love a warlock, and I will not apologize for treating him and his kind like people.”

Alec lowers his head to signify the end of his speech. He traces the rune under his feet with his eyes, once more, then catches Izzy and Jace’s eyes. I love you, he mouths, opening the parabatai bond wide to push through all of his love. They’re the ones who will have to stay behind, and keep fighting.

Jace pushes back fearstrengthlove and Alec nods at him just a fraction. Izzy has tears running down her cheeks. Alec takes all the courage he can get from their gazes and tries to send some back, before he turns back to Imogen. He will not let his siblings see his face as he burns.

Imogen doesn’t look at him as she raises the staff and touches it to the core stone. The entire courtyard seems to hold its breath, watching the tip light up like a stele, ready to activate the fire rune on the floor.

“Pulvis et umbra sumus,” Imogen declares. Her posture tightens when the only ones who repeat it are her Clave soldiers, but she turns her staff to the rune without stalling.

Alec closes his eyes.

This is how his story ends. Burnt to death in the courtyard of his own Institute, under the eyes of his siblings and his people. This is how he dies.

*

Twelve hours left.

“He wasn’t supposed to plead guilty! We were supposed to have more time!”

Isabelle is pacing the length of the small bedroom, while Jace sits immobile on the bed, staring at nothing. He looks in shock, incapable of processing. Clary looks at Magnus with pleading eyes as Jace fails to react to her pats on his arm.

Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose. “The Clave called off the search for Valentine,” he says. “He got through the wards around the city. He’s on his way to Lake Lyn as we speak, and the Consul is going to welcome him with open arms.”

The three Shadowhunters stare at him in shock. “The Consul is part of the Circle?” Isabelle asks with wide eyes.

“Alec said it was the only explanation. I told him during the trial.” Magnus closes his eyes. “Maybe that was a mistake. He pleaded guilty to speed up the trial, so we could get there faster.”

“Fuck!” Jace mutters through his teeth. He rams his fist into the mattress in desperate rage.

“That sounds like Alec,” Isabelle sighs.

“What do we do?” Clary asks, wringing her hands. “We have to stop Valentine, but we can’t let Alec get executed!”

Magnus feels himself flinch at the word once more. Executed. If they don’t find a solution fast, Alec will be burned to death by his own people, for the crime of loving him. Of being a good person, in spite of everything he’s been taught.

Clenching his fists, Magnus forces down the magical outburst he can feel coming and instead conjures a timer. “We have twelve hours,” he says, starting the magical clock with a wave of his hand.

“If Valentine is already in Idris, he’ll be at Lake Lyn long before that,” Isabelle says. Her face distorts before her next sentence. “Stopping him has to be our priority. We can’t let him succeed.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I agree that he’s the priority, but we can’t leave things as they are. This isn’t just about Alec. Even if we succeed in stopping Valentine, if Alec is executed tomorrow and word gets out about why, we’re looking at an all-out war.” He takes a gasping breath, the guilt eating him alive. How much of all this is his fault? He knows, he’s known for centuries that the Seelie Queen can’t be trusted. He chose her side over Alec. And if the war that’s brewing happens, he’ll have doomed his own people as well as Alec.

He leans against the wall, struggling to breathe through the panic. “Magnus?” Isabelle asks, squeezing his arm.

Magnus shakes himself. He can’t give in to the fear. Not yet. “The Seelie Queen betrayed us all. And your Clave is about to execute one of its own Heads for associating with the Downworld. This is a fuse that will blow it up to massive proportions.”

“But what can we do?” Clary asks.

“We need to split up,” Jace breathes, meeting Magnus’ eyes as he understands his intent. “Some of us need to stay behind. To organize.”

“Yes,” Magnus confirms.

They all look at each other for a moment. It’s not an easy decision. “Magnus,” Isabelle says softly. “You’re the best equipped to fight Valentine, especially since Jonathan might be with him.”

Magnus sighs. As loathe as he is to leave Alec, he knows she’s right. “I’ll go. I’ve already spoken to Luke and Raphael, they know where I stand. You can coordinate with them.”

“What about the warlocks?” Clary asks. “There’s still the wards over the city.”

“That’s also why I need to go,” Magnus says. “I’m the only one here who can go through them. I can take one of you with me. The warlocks won’t get involved beyond lowering the wards when I tell them to, unless war is officially declared.”

“The wards are useless now, though,” Isabelle remarks.

“Maybe not,” Jace says. “If you take them down, we expose ourselves to the Clave, and we know we can’t trust them. Right now every Shadowhunter in New York is in the Institute. That could work to our advantage.”

“An insurrection?” Magnus asks curiously.

“Maybe not that far, but Imogen is a minority right now. Our people are loyal to Alec. We may be able to use that to stall, if nothing else.”

Magnus nods. “Buy us more time.” He eyes the timer. “We could use that.”

“Clary, you go with Magnus,” Jace says.

Clary frowns. “You’re a better fighter than I am.”

Jace shakes his head. “You have your runes. And I’m needed here. My name and Izzy’s contacts will go a long way.”

Jace doesn’t add that if Alec is executed, it will incapacitate him and make him useless in a fight, but Magnus can see it on his face.

Clary nods and stands up, checking her pocket for her stele. “Magnus, do you think you could summon me a blade from the armory?” she asks. “I don’t know if we’re still on house arrest, but I’m sure we’ll be watched the second we step out of this room.”

“Of course.” Magnus visualizes the armory the best he can and pulls. The blade he finds in his hand isn’t Clary’s usual one, but Clary doesn’t seem to be bothered as she grabs it and clips it to her belt.

“Alright, Biscuit,” Magnus takes her shoulder. “We can’t waste any more time.”

He watches her hug Jace tightly, then Izzy, and the steel band around his chest tightens a little more at the thought of Alec, alone in a cell, waiting for his execution. He doesn’t let himself wish that they could have had more time, that they could have talked. They will.

“Isabelle,” he says. Isabelle turns to him and hugs him a well, but Magnus can’t quite return the gesture. He’s too tense. “If we don’t make it back in time—”

“We’ll do everything in our power,” Isabelle promises. She doesn’t say what, specifically. She can’t promise more.

Neither can Magnus. “If Valentine succeeds,” he starts instead, swallowing. “Tell Alec that I love him, and I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Magnus,” Isabelle murmurs. “You’ll get to tell him yourself. Have faith.”

Magnus nods. “I love you, too. Alec is my family now, and that means that so are you.”

“Go kill Valentine for me, then,” Jace says, punching his arm. In another context, it could have seemed callous, even rejecting. But the look on his face says everything, and Magnus suddenly remembers that Valentine raised him. That Valentine is his abuser.

“For all of us,” he chokes out. “Brother.”

They’re brothers in battle now, not just in their connection to Alec. They strive toward the same goal. Jace nods, pursuing his lips in the way he does when he’s trying to hide his emotions.

Magnus opens a portal, layering it with a shield meant to pierce wards, both those of the Institute and the ones around the city. Clary takes his hand, and in a second, they’re gone.

*

Eight hours left.

They’ve set up in the training room. It’s something Alec once started, Izzy remembers, in the first year he took over the Institute. He was sixteen, not even an adult in Nephilim eyes. She remembers that he had to get Jens to sign every single report before he could even send them to their parents because his own signature held no weight, even though he was effectively running an entire Institute.

Their parents still came back for a few days every month back then, and after dressing Alec down for some minor mistake, they’d kicked him out of the Head’s office like his work meant nothing. So Alec had swallowed his pride, changed into workout clothes, and held every single one of his planned meetings in the training room, under the guise of fighting hand-to-hand.

He kept doing that as long as their parents still held some pretense of running the Institute whenever they were in New York. The practice came in handy when first Lydia, then Aldertree and later Imogen took over the Institute and Izzy watched Alec more than once discreetly listen to his people’s complaints and needs while kicking their ass on the training room floor, or letting them pretend to watch him fight Jace or Izzy herself.

Today it’s Izzy and Jace on the mats, sparring without conviction. It’s past midnight, and the benches are full. They’ve had to wait until Imogen retired for the night, leaving only one of her henchmen to watch over the ops center while the Institute works are reduced capacity. They can’t leave the bounds of the city, when they would usually handle calls as far out as New Jersey, and half of the regular patrols have been canceled because of the events of the day. Anything involving Downworlders has been put on indefinite hold.

Izzy straightens with a silent nod to Jace, untangling herself from his grip, and heads back toward the nearest bench to grab her towel. Jens hands her a bottle of water, casually standing up next to her, just outside of the line of sight of the Clave guard in the other room.

“Clary’s training all night,” Izzy says. “I need someone to cover for her. It’s her final exam.”

Jens nods gravely. “Is she on her own?”

“No,” Izzy shakes her head. “She’s getting some help.” She makes a small hand gesture low at her side, imitating Magnus’ style the best she can.

“Good,” Jens nods. “I hope it will be enough.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Izzy sees Jace gesture to her. It looks like he’s got Lindsay to distract the Clave guard, and he has his back to them now. Jace runs his hand across his throat. The sound of the surveillance system has been taken down. The guard won’t notice as long as he’s not looking. They have a few minutes.

She signals the Shadowhunters around her to come closer. They gather around her just as Jace joins them, still looking like an accidental grouping but close enough to listen.

“I think you all know that the crimes Alec is accused of are unfair and that he’s innocent. It looks like the Clave is corrupt far beyond what we thought. I’m reaching out to people we trust to try to overturn this decision, but I need you to be ready.”

“Ready for what?” one of the Shadowhunters asks.

It’s Kara Svec, Alec’s little protegee. She’s at the bottom of the Institute hierarchy, still a trainee, and she’s speaking out of turn, but Izzy doesn’t point it out. She knows it, Izzy can see it on her face. She loves Alec and she’s terrified.

Alec was her age when he took over the Institute, Izzy realizes. She didn’t understand how young that was at the time. They were teenagers, ready to take on the world, and she and Jace must have caused Alec so much trouble with their unruliness. Izzy can barely handle the thought of leading the Institute now, let alone when she was sixteen.

Izzy puts an arm around Kara’s shoulders to comfort her, though the young Shadowhunter is taller than her. “We’re going to do everything we can to get Alec out of this,” she says. It’s looking less and less like they’ll succeed while staying within the bonds of Clave law. Izzy and Jace have tried everything they could already, from calling their parents – they didn’t answer, and Izzy has a feeling that Imogen is purposefully keeping them away – to Jace directly trying to convince Imogen to change her mind. Izzy has been through all of her contacts in Alicante, and the only thing she got was a promise from Aline that she’d call back as soon as she got hold of her mother.

“If we have to, we’ll stop the execution and break Alec out,” Jace says, his voice deep and more confident than he is. “We won’t ask any of you to put yourself in a position to go against the Clave, but we need to know that you won’t stop us.”

Jens steps up at that. “Alec is our Head, and what’s happening is wrong. I am loyal to him before the Clave.” Izzy nods at him. The older Shadowhunter is Alec’s mentor in many ways, the one who taught him how to run the Institute when their parents left. Alec broke traditions when he made Jens his official second-in-command, despite him not being a fieldworker.

“He’s the best commander I’ve ever had,” Underhill declares. “I stand with him. We’ll help in any way we can.”

Kara nods emphatically at that, tears in her eyes, and she’s followed by all of the others. Everyone here has a reason to be thankful to Alec, and that’s exactly why Izzy chose them.

“We’ll do things by the book for as long as possible,” Izzy says. “But be ready. Pass the word to anyone you know you can trust.”

“Time’s up,” Jace signals.

They break ranks immediately, going back to the benches as Jace drags Underhill out to the center of the room. Izzy sits down next to Jens, making a show of unwrapping her hands.

“Whatever happens tomorrow,” she murmurs. “Thank you. For your support, for all these years. Alec wouldn’t have made it without you. None of us would have.”

Jens lowers his head. “I wish I could have protected him more. He took on so much more than he should have had to, and now they’re punishing him for it.”

“Imogen hates Downworlders. Hell, the Clave hates them. Alec knew that when he made his choices, Jens. None of this is your fault.”

“Be careful tomorrow,” Jens whispers. “We’re on the brink of war. If you free Alec and side with the Downworld, you’ll be hunted by every Institute.”

“I hope it won’t come to that, but it’s better than Alec being executed,” Izzy murmurs. She looks around her and spots Kara with her face in her hands, trembling slightly. “Jens, tonight, will you watch over Kara? I’m worried about her. She’s really attached to Alec.” Izzy doesn’t know all the details of the abusive situation she escaped in her previous Institute, run by her father, but she knows enough to know that Alec saved her life by pulling her out. The fear of losing him could pull her right back to the traumatized state she was in when she first got to New York.

“I know,” Jens says sadly. “I’ll take care of her. What about you? Are you going to be okay?”

Jens is one of the few people in the Institute who knows about Izzy still being in recovery, and how stressful the last few months have been.

“I’ll hang on until morning,” Izzy smiles weakly, touched by his concern. “I have Jace. And I have a mission. I’ll be fine.”

*

Two hours left.

“For the last time, the Inquisitor is not allowing any visitors,” the Clave guard growls, his hand ostensibly on the hilt of his seraph blade.

Izzy fights the urge to roll her eyes. “Come on,” she pleads. “He’s my brother. He’s gonna die tomorrow.” She almost chokes on the last sentence, and it’s far less of an act than she’s willing to admit.

No. Alec isn’t going to die. They’re going to get him out of there.

“I have orders,” the guard says. “I’m not letting you through.”

Izzy sighs. She’s been trying to get to Alec for a while, coming back here every hour, but it’s not happening. She turns on her heels and walks back to the elevator. Jace joins her just as she gets out on the third floor and comes with her to her room. “Any luck?” he asks.

“No.”

“Me neither. Still nothing from our parents, and Clary and Magnus aren’t answering their phones.”

“Fuck,” Izzy swears through her teeth. She throws herself on her bed. It puts her face to face with Magnus’ timer, which now read 2:03. They’ve got two hours and three minutes left to save Alec, and they haven’t made any progress. What are they going to do?

The only positive point so far is that Luke and Raphael are still alive, answering their texts, so Valentine hasn’t succeeded in making the Wish. Yet. Clary and Magnus have been out of contact since they portalled to Idris, so there’s no way to know if they’re even alive.

Izzy’s phone buzzes in her hand, and she brings it up to see the text, only now realizing how tightly she’s gripping it. Jace sits down beside her to look over her shoulder.

It’s Aline.

Mom has got the Council together in an emergency meeting. The Consul is out of reach, so she’s calling the shots. What do you need?

Izzy breathes out. Finally, something is moving. Just as she moves to answer, her phone starts ringing.

“It’s Clary,” she breathes. Jace immediately straightens. Izzy taps the screen to answer the video call.

“Clary?”

“Izzy!” Clary’s face appears on the screen, bathes in sunlight. It’s almost midday in Idris. Magnus comes into the frame beside her, and Izzy lets out a breath she didn’t know she held all this time. They both look okay, if a little out of breath.

“We did it,” Clary says. “We got Valentine. He’s dead.”

Izzy closes her eyes in relief – or maybe just exhaustion. Jace says something under his breath and squeezes her against him tightly.

“He raised the Angel, but I got to him before he could make a wish,” Clary continues.

“Thank the Angel,” Izzy sighs. A part of her registers that the Angel she’s thanking is the one who would have annihilated the Downworld on Valentine’s command. “I mean, thank you, in this case. You’re certain he’s dead?”

“Yes,” Clary answers. “Magnus killed him while I talked to the Angel.”

Izzy chokes on her breath at Clary’s nearly casual tone. “You talked to Raziel?”

“Yeah,” Clary laughs. She sounds more shell-shocked than happy. She’s had a long night. They all have, but Clary and Magnus perhaps more than anyone else. “Not my first rodeo with an angel, remember? I told him that we didn’t want to make the Wish today, and he left. The Wish is safe.”

Izzy takes a moment to breathe and process that. It’s too much at the same time, she doesn’t know where to even start, but she has to keep it together. For Alec. Alec needs her to figure out their next step, and the next. He needs her to get him out of this.

The news of Valentine’s death should feel more earth-shattering than it does, but they still have work to do. Izzy puts that aside for now. They can celebrate and think of what almost happened later.

“What about the Consul?” she asks.

“We ran into him while walking to the lake,” Magnus answers. “We had the element of surprise, since he didn’t know we knew he was a traitor. We had to fight off his goons, but I think we got them all. The Consul is dead.”

“Good. Do you have conclusive proof that they were with the Circle?” Jace asks.

“Is this enough?” Clary asks, switching to her phone’s second camera. It moves for a moment before it stops on what is unmistakably Malachi Dieudonné’s face, the Circle rune prominent on his neck. “I think he had a glamour on it that fell when he died.”

“Definitely enough,” Izzy says, taking a screenshot. She thinks for a moment, as Clary brings the camera back on herself and Magnus. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get in touch with the Council.” She pauses as Magnus nods. “We need to make sure that you’re untouchable, especially Magnus, in case there are other Circle members in the Council. You record a video of you two explaining exactly what happened tonight. Jace authorized Magnus’ portal as Head of Field Ops and Magnus will get paid for his services, so we’re in the clear on that front. Make sure the video shows Malachi and the Circle rune clearly, and that you don’t implicate yourselves. Then send it to the Institute’s servers. It will make several backups just in case.”

“Okay,” Clary accepts. “We’ll do that. Can we come back now?”

Izzy sighs. “No. I’m sorry, but if you aren’t there when the Council sends a team to the scene, this will all have been for nothing.”

“Alec only has two hours left,” Magnus says, anguish in voice.

“I know, Magnus. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he’s still alive when you get back, okay? But you can’t leave Idris, or you’ll get thrown in jail too, and it will all have been for nothing.”

Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose, but nods.

“Magnus, can you get the warlocks to bring down the wards? We’ll need you and whoever they send from the Consul to be able to come through.”

“Okay,” Magnus says. “I’ll be there the second they let me go.”

“Me too,” Clary affirms. “Guys. We’re gonna make it through. Valentine’s dead. We’re gonna save Alec. Okay? Just hold it together.”

Izzy takes a breath and gives her a small smile, feeling Jace do something similar at her side. “Thanks, Clary.”

They’re all inches away from crumbling, but they need to hold on for a bit longer. One hour and forty-eight minutes left, according to the timer.

It’s a terrifyingly short amount of time that somehow feels like an eternity. Izzy sends the screenshot of Malachi’s Circle rune to Aline, along with a quick summary of what happened, and transmits Clary and Magnus’ video to the Council as soon as she gets it. Jace paces the length of the bedroom, fists clenched. After a while, Izzy takes his hand and pulls him down to the floor, where they sit cross-legged, across from each other.

“I think Alec could use some calm right now,” Izzy gestures to Jace’s parabatai rune, swallowing her tears. It’s almost seven. Outside, the sun is rising, coming through the stained glass windows.

Jace lets out a near-sob. They still don’t have an answer from the Council, and Clary and Magnus aren’t responding to Izzy’s texts. With no official backup coming, all their plans are crumbling one by one until they’re only left with the last resort.

“Breathe with me, brother,” Izzy murmurs, holding out her hands. “Send him strength. And love.”

Jace links hands with her and closes his eyes.

They don’t move until Jens knocks on the door, fifteen minutes before the end of the timer. “It’s time,” he says when Izzy opens the door. “They’re prepping him.”

Clary and Magnus haven’t made it back.

They’ve run out of time.

#shadowhunters #malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane #mine #echo's fanfiction #hm discord #malec discord server #straight through the smoke #angst

[paperficwriter]

I’ll Follow You Into the Dark

Harboring a fugitive means having to be careful, having to be smart about it. Because what terrible things might happen if someone were to find out? Unfortunately, being particularly clever is not one of Badd’s strong suits.

Written for @kaincuro​! Cut is for length, not for content.

“Where have you been?”

Badd hasn’t even gotten in the door yet. He’s just opened it with his shirt covering his hand because it’s gross, because there are splashes of gore on his clothes. Showers are available at the Hero Association HQ, yes, but it would have meant being out even later. The chance to take advantage of the Class S wing’s amenities was outmatched by his desire to be home with Garou.

“I got sidetracked by two monsters when my shift was supposed to end.” Garou’s eyes shine in the dark like a cat, even when the rest of his face is obscured by shadow, and Badd gropes for a light switch. “Ya could have at least waited with a lamp on. Where’s Z—”

“She’s staying over with that one annoying girl from her class.” A hand grabs his wrist and pulls him. “Why didn’t you call? You’re always browbeating me about using the burner phone you got me.”

“I said I was—”

“After.”

“It died. Garou, let me get a damn light, ya fuckin’—”

There’s a mouth jamming into his, which isn’t really the best way to describe a kiss. This is more like he’s being berated, like it’s a scold in the form of affection that’s being taken rather than given. Garou licks his face, and that’s so fucking gross, he’s told him how gross that is, especially right now when he’s sweaty and dirty. 

That sharp nose presses in next to his, and his face is held by icy fingers. He can hear his lashes falling on his cheeks, and between their eyes is this singing . That’s the only way he can think of it as. A high-pitched energy.

I was worried, Garou is thinking into him so he doesn’t have to say it. 

“I’m sorry.” Despite the grime (clearly Garou doesn’t give a shit) Badd palms the back of Garou’s neck until their foreheads touch into a point of pain. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

“Mm.”

He puts on a little smile. “I’m real flattered that ya missed me so much, though. It’s nice to be missed. Kinda sweet, comin’ from you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” There’s not even an ounce of bitterness in those words; the only thing reflecting any hurt is the way he pinches his cheek.

“Ow.”

“What? You’re the one who liked being missed so much. I should show you all the things I miss. Like these stupid soft cheeks of yours.”

“You’re just jealous. You’re like all skin and bones and shit.”

It’s still dark, but Badd’s eyes have adjusted. He leans his bat against the wall by the coat stand, on the linoleum where he can take it out and hose it off later. It’s the only moment he takes his hands off Garou, and he returns them just as quickly to sweep over his chest. Garou’s shirt is just a little loose on him, which is a pretty big indicator that he’s borrowing one of his.

He leans up until he feels a little soft hair on his nose and the bump of Garou’s ear. “Why don’t you show me all the other things you missed in the shower with me?” he whispers, and damned if he isn’t dragged down the hall on the spot.

Garou hisses when he finally turns the bathroom light on, and Badd gets his eyes on him for the first time since that morning. God, he kind of looks awful. Not that he’s going to say that, but there is this worn quality to the skin on his face, his eyes are a little squinty (even after he gets accustomed to the light) and there’s just a fatigue that’s there that’s not normally there.

“G. I’m okay. See? None o’ this blood’s mine, yeah?”

Slim fingers pick at some dried blood on his collarbone, then practically tears his shirt off. 

“I’m really, really sorry. I promise I’ll try not to let it happen again. I—”

“I almost went out looking for you.”

Badd stops talking for a second. His heart squeezes uncomfortably. “Ya know ya can’t do that durin’ the day. You’re…” A wanted criminal. The only monster that has ever escaped from the Hero Association. “It’s not safe.”

Garou scowls, pulling back, his touch rescinded entirely. He bends his head to rub his face against his own shoulder like a cat, and it makes Badd wonder if he’s trying to spread his scent onto his cheek. “I didn’t, did I?”

"It won't be forever. And it's nice when we go out at night, yeah? To our special spot?"

On the hill that overlooks the river. The one that's two miles outside the city, where sometimes Garou will meet him after work or Badd will drag him out on evenings like this in a completely different outfit.

Sometimes they don't even get there at the same time. They even pretend they're strangers. To spice things up. Keep it interesting.

But Garou doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere. He’s kissing him again, grabbing for his pants, and those pale fingers are getting dirty on his buttons. Badd scrambles to try to undress him too, but Garou is like some unstoppable force when he’s like this. 

“No trips tonight,” he says when he gets to his neck, hand slapping out to start the water. It hits too hot, but Badd can’t get to it to adjust. “I need you here. I’ve needed you here. I don’t want to share you with anyone else, even if it’s just the fucking bugs and birds and shit.”

Badd chuckles and lets Garou pin him to the wall. The water is running murky right now, and this should be gross, he should be shoving him off, but denying Garou is like trying to stop a hurricane with a parasol. 

“Alright, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

How does it happen?

They fuck up somewhere. It’s hard to say where, or when, or how.

Was it when Garou slinked along beside Badd when he went on a midnight grocery run?

Or the time Garou snarled at a guy who catcalled a girl as he was waiting for Badd to get off the train, and Badd grabbed his arm so he wouldn’t actually take off after the weasel? 

Or was it just chance? A suspicion, a hunch, and a window open a little too wide in the bedroom?

It doesn’t matter.

Garou had gone for a walk. Just a walk. It was fall, so the nights were getting longer, so while Badd dropped Zenko off at their cousin’s for the weekend, Garou went out into the crisp air, hat pulled down over his ears, Badd’s favorite jacket on with the embroidered tiger on the back (the hero had made the piece of clothing too tantalizing, always scolding that if he ripped it or stained it, he’d fucking kill him).

Although Garou’s walks always took him into a run, and then a leap, dashing up buildings until he could see for miles. And this one was different. His slippered feet propelled him from rooftop to rooftop, the smell of drying leaves and burning wood in his nostrils, air whistling.

His phone vibrated. ‘Gonna pick up food. What u want?’

He landed on one foot on the top of a stone cross erected on an empty church. Pigeons noisily swarmed from inside the belfry and out into the air. ‘Dumplings. Soup. Meat.’

‘lol, ok. See u soon.’

That’s the last one. The last text.

When he’s coming back, the noises make his ears twitch as much as his nerves. Anyone else wouldn’t notice, but he knows every inch of Badd’s house. He knows the furniture in it, the weight of it, and he knows what it’s like to fight inside (there were a few of those when he first started living there). 

There are people inside the house. There are people ransacking Badd’s house. 

The part of Garou that Badd always calls “the guard dog side” heats up to combustible levels. Usually it’s “cute” (again, something Badd says), when he glares at the door before he’s pushed off Badd and down the hallway out of sight. 

They’ve sprayed something on the windows so he can’t see. Fine. If they want to do this the painful way, he’ll oblige.

The window breaks as he goes through it so fast that he barely cuts himself, rolling into the bedroom. There are three men in suits, and the bed - their bed - is turned upside down. The nightstand is cracked, the drawer thrown open and turned out. Everything that they have worked to make theirs is ruined, and Garou roars. 

“He’s here! He’s—”

Garou grabs the man’s face and throws him through the broken window. The other two reach for guns on their belts, but the movement takes far too long compared to the speed with which Garou attacks, sending each of them flying into the walls. 

I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you all.

“Garou…”

It only takes a few sprinting steps to get to the stairs that lead to the living room, although it takes three (precious, few, too many) seconds to take out goons in the upstairs bathroom and in Zenko’s room. One manages to get a shot off, and the sound rings in Garou’s ears even as his fist breaks through his nose and jaw. He drops the bullet he caught onto the ground.

From the landing, he can see down into a black sea of men in suits, like the ones he’s dealt with upstairs. Badd is sitting up in a chair, and even from here Garou can see that his eyelids are heavy, a sagging in his cheeks and muscles. 

He’s been drugged with something.

One of the guys has his foot on his bat, which is on the floor, and there are several guns trained on Badd’s head.

He does the math.

Garou is fast, and if it was one person, only one, he could make it. But there isn’t one. There’s...twenty. They are crammed in here, and they all have guns, and there are too many for someone not to get lucky. And from the range they have on Badd, they don’t even need luck.

Run. 

It’s not a word that comes to his mind. It’s one silently mouthed by Badd.

Run, Garou.

Garou shakes his head. How can he run? How can he leave him? Now, at their worst point? That’s not just making him a coward. It’s making him a truer villain than he ever possibly could have conceived of himself to be. “No. Badd—”

So Badd is the one who moves. He sinks his teeth into his own hand, and Garou can feel as much as see how his Fighting Spirit flares. 

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

Shots fired at him, around the room. Ten men pile on Badd, and he disappears under their bodies. “Run, Garou! Get the fuck outta here! ”

Two shots hit him. In the side and in the shoulder. Too much happening. Too many distractions. Below him, he can see Badd struggling, and he knows he’s alive and if he’s alive he can find him, he can get him back.

“Take him down! Don’t let the Hero Hunter get away!”

The Hero Hunter.

That’s all he is to them. He’s still that version of himself that he had given up, the already-flimsy mask that had been torn off in that last fight.

Breaking into a run down the hall is like running through mud. Maybe not physically - physically he outpaces them all, a wild animal that knows the woods better than any clumsy human - but with every step he’s calculating when, where, why, how, will they, won’t they, what are you doing?

He doesn’t just go through the window; he takes half of the wall with him. This time, he barely touches the rooftops as he jumps from one to the next. Anything it takes to put as much distance as he can between himself and that house, those men.  

And Badd? A voice in his head asks.

He smothers it in his molten rage.

---

Who is he kidding? Garou can’t stay away. It doesn’t matter that it’s only been a few months. It doesn’t matter that they will probably check in on the house, or that they may be watching it now. He’s drawn back to it like a bird - like a chicken, that awful voice says again, rearing back, returning over and over no matter how much he ignores it - and in the dark he’s much harder to spot.

He waited a day. That’s as much as he can be expected to wait, isn’t it?

They’ve only put tarps over the holes, so he goes in the exact same way as he did that afternoon. 

Everything is still a mess. Any shelf that was standing or on the wall has been torn off, tipped over, emptied. Clothes have been pulled out and left scattered on the floor, or in piles. Nothing seems intact.

Even the bed has a gash running through it, clearly torn open by a knife. It nicked Badd’s pillow, and feathers are bleeding out onto the comforter. The sight makes him so angry that he picks up the whole bed and he’s about to throw it through the wall when two eyes shine up at him.

“Meow.”

Tama. She’s pushed herself into the tightest ball she can in the corner, somehow evading the terrible events of the afternoon. He puts the bed down, leaning it against Badd’s desk, and reaches down for her. She darts down the hallway into Zenko’s room.

The scene is the same. Granted, he always hated the posters and standees of Amai Mask, but seeing them ruined, torn off the wall (for what fucking purpose, those bastards) makes him nauseated. 

“Meow.” Now she’s under Zenko’s bed. He gets down on his stomach and pats the floor. She doesn’t move.

“Come on, Tama.” She backs up, and he kicks the door closed with his foot so she can’t run away again. “Come. On.”

She can survive. Cats are predators, and they can handle themselves. You’ve done enough— 

“Come on!” His fist lands on the floor. A piece of paper falls off the pink cork board over Zenko’s desk, fluttering to the floor. Not paper. A photo. Badd is grinning, with her up on his shoulders, and Zenko is making bunny ears over his head. Garou stares at it, not blinking, not moving. And then he realizes that he’s just barely in the picture. Half his face, the visible part of his smirk, and he recalls Zenko begging Badd to let her keep it. 

“Just that one. And it stays at home. Understand? No showin’ it to anyone at school.”

“I promise!”

He hates this feeling.

And it’s one he should be used to, isn’t it? Being on his own. He was on his own for so long, living in that shack, stealing food. And only a few times did it ache a little, to be away from the world, but it was worth it, because he had a goal.

What does he have now?

...nothing.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Liar. Liar. Liar.

You could have stopped it. You should have died stopping it. 

No. No. No.

The bristles of Zenko’s carpet are making his face itch, but all the energy has gone from his body. It’s hard to tell how long he stays there, the silence so eerie. No television. No talking. No breathing. 

And then, there’s something. A gentle vibration. He glances up to find that Tama has occupied the space of his slightly-bent arm, where it had been outstretched. Her eyes are heavy, and she’s purring gently. When he picks her up, she lets it happen, and he pockets the photo as well.

For a moment, he considers taking more, but…

No. 

...better to let this chapter end. It’s easier to let it all go. He has the jacket, and Tama, and one picture of them together.

Yes. Look at where attachments have brought you.

---

Garou memorizes the address on the fridge, and rips it into tiny pieces. If they found it already, they have it, and if they don’t, they won’t now. It doesn’t look like anyone is watching the place, so far as he can tell.

He gently knocks on the window.

“Garou!” Zenko looks like she’s been crying, so she must have some idea what’s happened. That makes things easier, although who knows what they’ve told her. Her face is red, and she grabs his arm, trying to pull him in from where he’s crouching on the window sill. 

“No. I can’t stay.”

“You can’t go!” One of her fists punches his arm as her eyes start filling with tears again. “Don’t go, Garou!”

It hurts. He doesn’t...he wasn’t expecting it to hurt this much. “Here.” Reaching into his jacket with his free hand, he takes Tama out and hands it to her. She has to let him go to take the large cat in her arms.

“Tama…” Now she’s sobbing into the cat’s fur, and he remembers just how old Tama is. Old enough to have been there through losing their parents. Old enough for all Badd’s antics, all the things that led him to promise ‘no violence in front of her.’ 

Some good that did.

“Do you…” she hiccups and scrubs her eyes. “Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know if he’s okay?”

“...I don’t know.”

“What do you know?!”

“Nothing!” Before he can stop it, his voice goes as sharp as hers. “I don’t know anything yet! Are you happy?!”

At first, in the moment he regrets it, he thinks she’ll start crying and then...what, is he going to try to comfort her? But instead she puts Tama down, jumps up and slaps him in the face. Which doesn’t really hurt all that much (physically, at least). Not as much as when she yells at him, “You’re the adult! You’re supposed to be able to deal with it!”

...he is, isn’t he.

He holds his hand out. “Give me your phone for a second.”

When she unlocks it and hands it over, Garou brings up the news and searches for ‘Metal Bat.’ Immediately, there are several articles about his “leave of absence” from the Hero Association, about “suspicions of misconduct,” and how he was currently staying in the Hero Association Headquarters where they would be investigating his involvement with “possible criminal monsters.”

A monster...

Garou hands the phone back to her. “You probably saw that he’s at the hero headquarters.”

She nods. “That doesn’t narrow it down much...the new one is huge. You can’t just— Garou!” Zenko pulls hard at his arm as he tries to jump away, like she can yank him inside. “You can’t just go in!”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Take me with you!”

“No way.” She’s about to yell at him again, he can tell, but he gently, firmly pulls his arm out of her grasp. “Your brother will kill me if I get you in trouble. And who will take care of Tama then?”

Zenko hates it. He can tell, because the expression on her face is how his gut has felt all day: angry, grief-stricken, hurt. “Promise you’ll come back for me. That you’ll both come get me!”

He nods. “Fine. Call Tareo. He’ll be worried, and I don’t want you alone.”

He leaves after that without saying goodbye. There’s nothing more to say, and he can’t make any more promises he’s not sure if he’ll be able to keep.

---

Garou spends that night in the special spot. He curls up in the tall grass where he usually does, and below him he can hear the water gently lapping over the rocks. It’s dark, and there’s a breeze, but there are stars overhead. 

He takes Badd’s jacket off and balls it up under his head, where he can breathe it in.

“I love ya, Garou.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, it’s right, jerk.” Badd laughs and smacks his chest. He’s using him as a pillow, that night, and it’s warm yet cool enough that this is the first time they’ve been able to stand being out in it. In the distance, storm clouds are moving in. They’ll be forced home soon.

Garou is playing with his hair. He usually has it down when they go out. The pompadour is too much of a signature for him, too unique. Like this, Garou can pass his fingers through it without it getting caught in product. 

“You don’t have to say it back.”

“Good.”

Badd’s smiling into his flesh, and he traces the outline of one of his pecs. It makes goosebumps jump up across Garou’s shoulders. “You at least like me, don’t ya?” he teases, poking him near the armpit so he jumps. 

“God, no.” Garou rolls until he’s got Badd on his back and he’s looming over him, growling as he places several nipping bites down his throat. “Can’t stand you…”

“Yeah, I get that a lot from folks,” Badd laughs.

“No, you don’t. And that’s what I hate the most.” He follows the path of the bites with little kisses, faintly feeling Badd rubbing at his scalp. “You’re so damn likable...everyone fawning all over you...you’re like the neighborhood mutt everyone wants to give treats to.”

Badd sits up a bit until he can press his face into the soft space of skin under his eye, slotting his nose into the dip of his cheek. “Do ya wanna give me a treat?”

God. He wants to be annoyed, but Badd’s boyish face, his little smile, his hands, even the calluses on his fingers...every piece of him just endears him more and more. Does that mean that this is love? Is this what love is? It’s not like he’s ever felt this for someone before, this positive energy. The only things that he can think of that have fueled him are spite. Anger. Bitterness. At best: boredom.

Not that he hasn’t been kind to others (as kind as he has thought possible) but…

But he doesn’t know enough to say it.

…

You should have said it. You might never get a chance to tell him again. You knew at the time, and the only reason you didn’t say it was because you were a fucking coward.

Garou curls up tighter. 

Or.

An itch is beginning to cover his skin. His eyes actually hurt, like he’s been swimming with his eyes open, but it deepens into a worst burn.

Or you never loved him at all.

“No!” When Garou punches the ground, he can see that his skin is different. Harder, stony. Like that day. His head is on fire. The voice that comes up from his throat doesn’t even sound like his. It’s coming out of a smoking muzzle. 

When he gets up - on all fours, so tall now that the long, hard tail swinging behind him knocks two trees over - he picks up the jacket, the picture still in the pocket, and holds it against his chest. The armor shell that has been forming around him seems to swallow it up, and he can feel the material, feel Badd, pressed to him. Present. Protected.

It’s very possible that he won’t survive the night.

He accepts that.

And as he lets out a howl so long and so low, so reverberating and far-traveling that he can hear dogs on the far shore return his call, he turns away from the hill and begins to run back toward the city.

---

It’s like this was the only form he could take to quiet his mind.

Because when Garou gets to the Hero Association Headquarters, he doesn’t stop to think or consider his next plans. He’s not crafty or cunning (was he ever?). He’s a mad dog. No, a wolf. A rabid wolf, in form as much as action now.

And the Hero Association has never been good at actually defending itself against monsters.

The glass in the front of the huge building shatters as he goes through it. 

“Baaaaaadd!” It’s the only thing that comes out of his mouth where gray fangs make the darkness within look like a cave without an end. “Badd!”

The men inside are shooting at him, but this isn’t like inside the house. The bullets bounce off him, and he runs through them, into a door, another passage. His huge nose sniffs at the air, and even though they begin crumbling under his weight, he starts taking the stone stairs that lead up further into the building.

More security. This time, in the form of flying drones with both constant artillery as well as drugs, electricity, nets. 

Insects. All of them.

It’s not to say that Garou doesn’t feel their attacks. The rocky armor surrounding him cracks in places, pieces falling to the floor in small piles. But he’s being fueled by something greater than metal and energy.

They crunch like cans in his jaws. 

“Baaaadd!”

He tears through another door, clearly reinforced, having to dig through it with his claws. Cameras are watching him; sometimes he catches one out of the corner of his eye, and in the lens he can see his blood-red, burning eyes. 

He doesn’t waste time with them. Let them see.

More humans. More humans with guns, with long spears that end in shock cords, like the kind used to leash strays. Do they think it will be effective? They sting when they touch him, sure, when they manage to loop his ears but the moment he shakes his head he can hear their bodies make contact with the walls.

They keep trying to trap him, trying to close him between lock-down gates. It’s obvious they think he’ll try to go through the steel, but then he just turns and rips his way through the wall. 

More robots. More rolling, shielded automatons. They issue warnings he doesn’t heed, and the ones he can’t literally destroy he just ignores.

Then, it gets quiet.

And that is worse than any of the defense that he’s faced to this point as he’s climbed higher and higher in the building, following Badd’s scent, tracking him through corridors and stairs and firepower. 

When he gets to a large, open room, empty but for equipment and air ducts far up in the ceiling, he’s about to start scaling the wall when the door in front of him opens and a lone figure walks through.

“Ah...I just want to sleep...why do they want to put me to work so late?”

It’s him. Saitama. Again, here, at the end of everything, why, why, why .

He’s picking at his ear, his other hand in the pocket of his striped pajamas. “Didn’t even have time to change…”

Garou’s options are limited. He can go back the way he came, or he can charge forward. But then, would he make it either way? Saitama was fast last time. And Garou… 

He can’t help slumping. God, he’s tired. 

He’s no stronger than he was before…

“Oh, it’s you again. You look a bit different. So...you here to cause trouble, or…?

Garou growls. He’s talking to him like he’s a child that’s gotten somewhere he’s not supposed to be. On the tip of his nose, he can just barely smell Badd still. They’re moving him. Higher? Farther away? It’s hard to tell. “Badd…”

Saitama turns and looks up toward the ceiling, where Garou’s gaze is fixed. “Is that why you’re here? Are you two friends now or something?”

The growling intensifies. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have. This isn’t a moment he wants to share. Not with him. Not with the one person who could break him down so completely, who could ruin everything like it was nothing. 

“I don’t like that, you know. What they’re doing.”

Garou stops moving. 

“Everybody knows Metal Bat. He talks about his sister in every meeting. I don’t think he would do something that would endanger her.” He drops his fist in his hand, as though something has made sense to him. “It was you, wasn’t it? Who they think he’s associating with. You two are friends now. Good thing Genos isn’t here...that probably wouldn’t be enough to stop him.”

Garou watches as Saitama moves, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I think,” he says, cracking his bare feet against the floor, “this is better for you, you know. Doing more of the hero thing. The villain thing was kind of half-assed, you know.”

Saitama walks away from the door he came out of, leaning against the wall.

“And I’m sure I’m probably already in trouble, but it’s going to be worse for you if you don’t go get him now. Because they’ll probably send one of those other heroes after you...maybe that scary girl that flies around.”

Every instinct Garou has is telling him this is a trick. A trap. Not to trust anything he says, to stay and fight.

But what is there to gain? What would be smarter or better than just letting the strongest hero kill him right here, right now? 

...he’s still not going to thank him. He won’t give him that satisfaction. 

Garou just smashes through the door and keeps running.

—

Badd wonders if he’s having some kind of out-of-body experience.

He can’t focus on anything, he realizes. Not asleep. Not awake. 

At one point he thinks...is he at the dentist? Because there’s something in his mouth, keeping him from putting his teeth together...but they don’t cuff your hands to the bed at the dentist, do they?

Now and then, he hears people talking.

At this moment? People are talking much louder. More excitedly. Above him, lights are moving quicker. He can see them around the mask over his nose. 

He’s in a hallway.

And everything is starting to feel...bumpy. Like there’s an earthquake. Is it an earthquake? Are they taking him somewhere safe?

...somewhere safe...because...this place isn’t safe, is it?

People start screaming, and suddenly something huge is standing over him. He’s staring into gray dark, and there are four limbs over top of where he is laying. Somehow, in all of the fog, it’s like…

It’s like he knows he’s being protected.

“Hnngh…?” He can’t talk with the thing in his mouth. And his hands are still trapped.

This...god, yes, this has to be a dream. It’s the only thing that makes sense when all the sounds stop and the creature backs up and stares down at him. A wolf. But...a statue of a wolf? No, more like a gargoyle, because there are cracks in the stone, and that’s falling away, getting smaller until…

Garou.

Garou’s here.

He tries to reach his hands out to him, but...right, no, those have to stay where they are. Except then Garou breaks the thick cuffs, and he’s snapping the harness that’s around his head, holding what he sees now is some kind of bit. He takes the mask off him too.

Slowly, he begins to come back into the real world.

“Garou…Garou, I…” Arms go around him, holding him so suddenly, so tightly, that his muscles object because… “How long have I been here?”

“Two days. I love you.”

Badd blinks. “Garou, it’s—”

“This is my fault. It’s all my fault. I ruined your life. I ruined your life, and they took you away, and if I had lost you, I would have...I don’t know what I would have done. And you would have been gone without me having said it back.”

Badd pulls back enough to look him in the face. He doesn’t even know how to describe the expression that’s there. Garou looks like he’s the one who was coming close to death. “I love you too. Okay? I’m okay. They probably...fuck, they were probably keepin’ me under and all so I wouldn’t trigger my Fightin’ Spirit. If I accidentally bit my tongue ‘r somethin.’”

Garou kisses him, and he kisses back. He’s pretty sure they both know this is not what they should be doing right now, but… 

“Zenko. Fuck, Zenko, is she—”

“She’s okay. So’s Tama.”

Even in spite of the terrible condition they are in, as Garou helps him out of what seems to be a modified hospital bed, Badd has to laugh. “Ya went back for Tama, huh…”

Garou picks up something off the floor. His jacket, he realizes, and Garou puts it on him, over the sort of sterile gown they changed him into. He takes a step and almost falls, and Garou picks him up effortlessly in his arms.

“Ya know...I didn’t think that the first time you would carry me like this would be so...dire, ya know?”

Garou’s face is starting to soften, and as he hears approaching footsteps - running, quickly - he takes them through an empty room. The windows overlook the city beyond. It’s a long way down, but...they’ve both managed from higher places. “Ready?” he asks.

Badd tucks his face into Garou’s neck and steals one last kiss before bracing himself. “Yeah...yeah. Let’s do this.”

He’s not lying. The rest of the details aren’t important. He just closes his eyes as Garou carries him through the glass and the air, into whatever comes next for them, trusting that he’ll get them there, no matter what. 

#my paperfics #one punch man #batarou #metal bat #badd #garou #angst #a lot of angst woof #that's really it that's the biggest tag honestly #it's fun though imagining what might happen to them next

[constilationn]

Fire and Rain || Part 12

A/N: SUPRISEEEE, this is it guys! after months of planning and then weeks of delays (my bad), the last part of fire and rain is here! Guys, I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing it and please, please do leave me feedback it is so greatly appreciated!!

Rating: T 

Warning: naughty words 

Summary: You find yourself with Poe once more but this time, maybe he’ll realise you’re more than a technician 

Part 11 🔥

As it turned out, it was not like riding a bike. 

Flying around the base with Poe by your side was very different from crossing systems by yourself. You were such an idiot, you hadn’t figured out an entrance plan or an extraction. Hell, you didn’t even know where the man was. You’d turned into Poe: jumping into a situation with no preparation and hoping for the best. Usually you were so cautious, so organised. You never would’ve done this before Poe. The only thing that drove you towards him this time, was pure fucking passion and it pissed you off to no end. 

You regretted a lot of things as you flew over the Royal House of Naboo, landing almost gracefully in the loading bay. You weren’t the best pilot, granted, but the dirty looks thrown your way as you crossed towards the Gungan High Council house made it seem you’d killed everyone in sight by the time you’d landed. 

You stepped across the threshold into the Gungan High Council, watching carefully as you were tracked across the building towards the desk that sat at the front. “Hi.” You shot the women sitting behind the desk a sweet smile. 

She barely looked up, focused on the book in front of her. “Business or pleasure?”

“What?”

She looked up, bored. “Business or pleasure?”

You shrugged, what did you class Poe as? You shivered thinking about that night in the desert, berating yourself for thinking about him like that. You rolled your eyes, this stupid man had you brain in knots and he wasn’t even here. “Pleasure, I guess.”

“You guess?” She sighed, folding her hands in front of her as she fixed you with a frustrated expression. 

“Listen,” you leaned across the desk. “I think my boyfriend’s cheating on me.” The women shifted on her seat, moving forward in interest and by the glimmer in her eye, you knew you’d caught her. “I just need to know where he is,” you wiped a tear you’d forced from your eye. “Please, he’s got dark curly hair, beautiful brown eyes and the sharpest jaw you’ve ever seen.” The women started to nod slowly and you gave her a relieved smile, your mind reeling from how easily the words had rolled off your tongue. “Do you know where he is?”

The women put her hand gently over yours and you rested the urge to snatch them back, remembering you were supposed to be some sort of inconsolable girlfriend. “I saw him heading to the Royal House of Naboo a few hours ago, anyone that goes anywhere passes through me. If you hurry you should be able to catch him.”

“Thank you,” you pulled your hand away from hers as quickly as you could, wiping nonexistent tears from your cheek. “Thank you.”

You turned on your heel, leaving the Gungan High Council in search of Poe. You couldn’t begin to imagine what Poe had gotten himself into. The very fact he was in The Royal House of Naboo, probably unarmed and definitely irritating everyone within a ten meter radius, spoke volumes. 

Your boots echoed across the marble floor as you scanned the foyer. What once had been the pride and joy of Naboo had been turned into a museum; preserving the pieces of history that didn’t quite fit anymore. There was no logical version of events that would leave Poe stranded in the middle of a museum on the very planet he'd run into trouble not so long ago.

“Hey!” The voice caught you by suprise and you snapped back to attention, spinning on your heel with fists clenched and heart racing. “Thank god you’re here.” 

Your mouth fell open. Actually, physically fell open as Poe’s eyes met yours. “What are you doing here?” You hissed. 

“Me? Why did it take you so long?” You gave an indignant scoff, still gaping as he pulled you towards him. The touch of his skin on yours made you crazy.

“You pissed me off.” 

Poe looked down, guilt dancing in his eyes. “I know. I know I fucked up.” 

You wanted to scoff, to hit him; to hate him like you were supposed to. But you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to despise him, not when he was standing in front of you looking at you like that. You eyes softened, “No. I did.” 

“What?” 

“I wasn’t thinking. I jumped to conclusions way too quickly.” 

Poe nodded, unsure if he could reach out, touch you the way he wanted. “I swear to you, nothing happened.” 

“I know.” 

“Sorry?” 

You laughed softly. “I know. I ran into Jessie the other night. Turns out you turned her down.” 

“Sweetheart,” he looked up, slow, cautious at the use of nickname. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

You shook your head. “I know. I panicked. I told you everything that hurt me. I told you what destroyed me and for a second I thought you’d done exactly that.” 

Hurt flashed across his face. “I didn’t.” He replied flatly. 

You frowned, his toneless response bothering you. You’d come to Naboo to rescue him, to tell him that you were in the wrong. “Can blame you me?” You fired back, angered by the offense he’d taken. He couldn’t expect you to trust him, could he? Not after everything that he’d put you through. Not after his reputation on the base. Surely he knew what people said about him? He’d created that persona, hadn’t he? Why shy away from the truth? 

How many questions until you drove yourself crazy?

“I know what people say.” He murmured and you lifted your eyes to meet his. “I know how they see me.” 

“That’s not my fault.” 

“I’m not saying it is.” His reply was quick and you looked down sheepishly. Of course it wasn’t your fault and he’d never accuse you of such, so why were you jumping to conclusions? Why did you want everything to go so horribly wrong? Was it some last resort to try and save yourself? Your survival instincts were beginning to show and it was most certainly going to be your destruction. Unless you fixed it. Unless you showed him that he was wrong. “I know I took who I wanted when I wanted. I know that.” He took a cautious step towards you and your eyes flickered down to where your hands met. “But I’m telling you now that I want you. Sweetheart, all I ever wanted was you.” 

“Poe...”

“Please,” and your name was falling from his lips like a prayer. “I want you to believe that. I need you to believe that.” He looked like he was about to drop to his knees and beg for you. You had no idea where the sudden display of emotion had risen from. Poe Dameron was not the kind of man to beg for a girl when he could get anyone he wanted. 

“What’s this about?” You asked gently and he knew what you meant. He seemed needy, desperate, for you and whilst you certainly didn’t mind the sudden show of commitment, it wasn’t typical Poe behaviour. 

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.” He mumbled, “I was all cocky and confident but the minute I realised I couldn’t get home was the minute I realised I’d lost you.”

You looked down. Obviously he knew he’d fucked up but did he really think that you wouldn’t come for him? Did he really believe he meant that little to you? “Didn’t you think I’d come for you?” 

Poe stayed silent and you nodded, tears threatening to spill over. Then, quietly “I knew you would.” 

Laughter fell from your lips and Poe grinned broadly as tears slipped down your cheeks. And then he was stepping forward, his hand cupping you cheek as he kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Because Poe Dameron may not have lived life slowly, but he certainly lived it by your side.

#star wars #Star Wars Fic #star wars masterlist #star wars imagine #star wars smut #poe dameron #poe smut #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #The Force Awakens #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker #fanfic #Fic #fic rec #series #fire and rain

[simplysparrow14]

Why I absolutely hate Korra.

 Gifted Children do not make good protagonists. 

I really hate Korra. Like, I fucking cant stand her as a characters. She’s honest to god one of the only characters besides Kylo Ren that I just full on hate. 

She’s whiny, She’s cocky, she’s too brash for her own good. She got the biggest overinflated ego the size of Mount Fuji. She bitches and moans when something doesn't go her way, and then as the balls to blame other characters or blow up in their faces when she’s starts the fire herself!  

She leaps into battle before she thinks and when the villain of the season kicks her ass to the curb, we’re supposed to sympathize with her and feel sorry for her, even though She deserved everything she had coming to her

Her god complex is bigger then the fucking sun and she gets all pissy when someone even mildly calls her out on her bullshit or even gives her polite constructive criticism on her Avatar duties. 

She never learns diplomacy or peacekeeping or patience or empathy for others around her or when to shut the fuck up and take a step back before you get the shit kicked out of you. 

One of the prime examples of her being absolute stupid was when She and Mako go to one of Amon’s rallies, and after figuring out that Amon was a bloodbender who locked his own brother up in a cage, they decide to go to the rally to boldly claim that Amon is a bender without presenting any physical or damning evidence that suggest otherwise.

“How in the world do we beat him?”

“We cant. Any attack we throw at him, he’ll redirect with his mind. That’s how he’s been able to challange any bender.”

“So much for our ambush....If we stay here, we’re toast. But there’s another way to beat him!”

“How?!”

“This whole time, Amon’s been one step ahead of us. But finally, we have an advantage...We know the truth about him!”

“If we expose him as a bender in front of all his supporters, we can take away his true power!”

.......huh...... WHAT?..... A-are you serious?! THAT’S YOUR ADVANTAGE AGAINST AN ALL-POWERFUL BLOODBENDER ?! WE’RE REALLY GOING TO  BLATANTLY CALLING HIM OUT IN FRONT OF ALL OF HIS FOLLOWERS WITHOUT EVEN A SHRED OF EVIDENCE?!

what makes matters worse is that they don’t even take Tarrlock with them. They just leave him in his cage. Like, yeah, he tells them to go because he doesn’t want Amon’s supporters and the rest of the public to know he was Amon’s brother, but honestly, that hasn't stopped Korra before from forcing someone to give her what she wanted. She’s not lik a regular person who has to abide by the rules of Rebublic City, she’s the goddamn fucking avatar: If she wanted a fucking statue erected in her honor, she would order that in a fucking heartbeat. 

ANd  May I remind you, lovly readers, that Korra literally  manhandled a non-bender activist to give her information about Amon’s next rally not just a few episodes before this?

So her acting this respectful and this pulled-back is so out-of-character and jarring to watch because the show clearly states that Korra is a bad bitch and if she wants something really badly, she’ll fucking get it herslef, no questions asked.  

 And then when Amon corners them in a storage room and beats the shit out of them with bloodbending and chi-blocking, we have to feel sorry for them. We have to feel sorry to Korra  All because her “expertly” constructed plan didn't work out, and that Amon took the brats bending away when she  busted into his rally uninvited without evidence to show to his followers,  or even a half-ass plan on how to effectively beat the shit out of him if he refused to go down easily.

Look, I get that we have to have dramatic tension for the story, but that doesn't mean that the characters have to lose a majority of their very limited brain-cells  in order for it to happen. We should not have to sacrifice a character’s personality in order to progress the story. 

There’s also the fact that during Season 1 when Korra literally barges into Tarrlocks’ office unannounced to let the non-benders out of jail and berates him about how he’s intimidating people into falling in line with his views and opinions 

I

“You’re using your power to oppress and Intimidate people!”

Its only when Tarrlock pulls the Reverse Uno Card on Korra’s superiority complex that we as the audience get the first and maybe last good spot of introspection and interesting character development within this show 

“And you don't? Isn’t that what you came here to do? Intimidate me into releasing your friends?” 

But then, its all thrown out the window when Korra goes full ape-shit and tries to fuck-up Tarrloq, and we’re again supposed to feel bad for her when Tarrlok fuck her up right back with blood-bending, kidnaps her and locks her up in a metal box. 

Your avatar, every one. 

All throughout these scenes, we never get any notion that she’s gaining character development. 

She never takes a step back, never looks into the situation, She never shuts the fuck up,  never considers that maybe, just maybe, her plan might not work. There’s no patience in her what so ever and it infuriates me to no end! 

And yet, the show treats her as through she did nothing wrong! They treat her like a goddamn goddess, and its so....

There’s also the fact that throughout the series, Korra goes through more pitty parties and anger bursts then most characters have in their entire series run and in the end, her woes/ temper tantrums are forgiven because, well, she’s the protagonist.

Your boyfriend calls you out on your bullshit about the civil war happening between your home-tribe and the sister tribe? Crash his place of work and throw his desk across the room and tell him that he’s a traitor just for doing his job--A job he;s wanted to be apart of since he was little, no less. 

Cant figure out how to work with the wind panels without getting punched around? Don't be the leaf and burn a historic Airbending training device to ash!

“That was a Two-thousand year old historical treasure… WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“There’s nothing wrong with me! You’re a terrible teacher!” 

Cant handle being called a wuss?  Challenge the mastermind of a political movement with chi-blocking and blood bending to a fight under your previous incarnations statue and then cry like a bitch when he kicks your ass. 

No Korra, you don’t get to cry when it’s clearly you’re fault it happened in the first place. Look, I get that you’ve just had a low-key high-key traumatic moment.....But you don’t have brain-cells. You knew he could take away bending--You saw it at their rally not just a few days ago-- so i don’t know why you thought that challenging him to a one-on-one duel in a dark, abandoned place where no one can hear you scream was an perfect idea you dumb bitch.  

Aparently,

Its also apparent within the series that she never has to work for her character development, or work for what she wants. 

People often remark that Korra was coddled at the Avatar, but I feel as if Spoiled is the best word: 

In the beginning of the series when the White Lotus comes to the southern Water Tribe to Search for the Next Avatar, we're Introduced to Korra punching a hole through the wall, spewing flames from her fists and using water to put out the fire. Hell, the first sentence that we hear from the brats mouth is “I’m the Avatar. You gotta deal with it.”  

 Look, no one likes gifted children (unless those children are yours). Gifted Children are probably the worst type of main character to have, because the whole point of your main character is that people are suppose to relate to them. People cant relate to gifted children, because we, as normal human beings, are not all gifted. 

Cut to 15 years later, and we learn that Korra hasn't even left the Southern Water Tribe.  Teachers have been flown into the water tribe to teach Korra more on the elements. And at the every start of the first episode, we see her pass her her fire bending test, with her commenting on how already she’s mastered Water and Earth.

 The whole point of the Avatar journey was that the Avatar had to journey to find their teachers and experience the world they needed to protect. When you take away that Journey, you’re just leaving the Avatar to be handed everything on a silver platter. 

During Season 2 when Kaiju Korra nearly gets her ass handed to her, Jinora force-ghosts her way into the battle and gives Korra the upper-hand during the battle with Vaatu, almost entirely erasing any the trace amounts of danger that the battle was trying to portray. 

There’s also the fact that in the middle of Season 2 when she’s fighting Eska and Desna, suddenly out of no-where she can Spirit bend (Or as I like to call it, Spirit-pacification) without so much as a single day of training. Like, talk about pulling out an ability out of your ass. 

There’s also the fact that during her visit to the Su-yin’s home, she  masters Metelbending out of no-where and then has to gawl to show off in front of Bolin, who’s been trying to metelbend for a while.

There’s also the fact that she’s never punished for any of her actions. 

When Amon takes her bending away, she never as a moment to reflect on how her actions affected her future or the rest of the avatar cycle.  We never see her come to terms that facing Amon head on resulted in her losing her bending. And when it looks like it does have an impact on her, Ghost Aang pops up right out of nowhere, takes pitty on her and gives her back her bending. Oh, and we’ll also throw in the Avatar State as well, as a treat. 

Right after she destroys the alleyway in the first episode of Season 1, Tenzin busts her out of jail and says to Lin that he’ll cover all the damages Korra caused! 

There’s also the incident where Tenzen told Korra not to go to the Pro-Bending tournament. And when Tenzen does have to drag her ass back to Air-temple Island, he remarks that Pro-bending is what she needed, completely Ignoring the fact that she disobey’d a direct order from her master and thus is never punished for it! 

 She’s never called out on her bullshit regarding her very sudden kiss with Mako when the man openly and explicitly said that he was dating another woman. 

(Like, girl, i get it. you have feelings for him, I get it. But when someone says: “I’m already dating someone right now.” and they admit they might be also have very confusing feelings for you as well,  You back the fuck up and give them time to make a decision. You just don’t go: “Oh you already have a girlfriend? oh, smoochy smoochy time then.”) 

Omg, it’s like the show was entirely written by male writers who have no idea how to write romance or develop unique and interesting characters who are not homicidal bat-shit insane brats who cry’s when they’re not the center of attention 

I guess my big question towards Korra’s character is… Why? 

Why do we have to root for a character who doesn't struggle, doesn't think she has to try to master her bending and that everything should come easily? How are we supposed to connect to someone when they blow up and get all pissy when someone even just lightly insults their god complex? 

Why is she a waterbender when she has the temperament of a fire-bender? Why is she getting her ass kicked by every villan if she’s the all powerful avater?  Why is she the avatar when she doesn't  have when a shred of humbless or appreciation for the bending she’s been given? Why do we have to put up with a brat of a protagonist for 3+ seasons? 

She is, in the bluntest term I can say, a meaningless character. She holds no purpose to the story or its messages or its themes. 

Aang was meaningful because it was his story and he was a 12 year old with the weight of the fucking world on his shoulders as both the last living Airbender and the Avatar, all while trying to navigate a world that did not and would not uphold his peaceful beliefs. 

Katara was meaningful because she broke down social norms by not only mastering the both the female -only water-bending techniques and Male-only water-bending fighting style, but also the scary-as-fuck-blood-bending. She showed the duel sides of being a bad ass strong independent woman. 

Toph was meaningful because she was an all-powerful earthbender who was fucking blind, showing that disabilities cant stop you from kicking ass. 

Sokka and Suki were meaningful because they were two badass people who didn't need bending to kick fire-nation ass. You don’t need to be like everyone else to save the world. 

Zuko was meaningful because his failures,and mistakes and abuse and scar showed people that no matter how awful your current situation was, you’re able to build a better life for yourself through hard work, self-love and good people who love you. 

Korra is meaningless. She is selfish, and spoiled and the only message she has to tell “Be a brat, cry a lot, and throw temper tantrums until you get what you fucking want.” 

Fuck Korra.  Fuck her character. I’ve never seen a character so poorly executed in my life, and I surly hope I dont ever get to see that ever again. 

#Legend of Korra #The Legend of Korra #Avatar #Atla #AtloK #Korra #Mako #Bolin #Asami #Tenzin #Amon

[hutchhitched]

Too Familiar (Part 8)

Hey, all y’all! After way too long, the next installment of this story is here. Thanks to all of you who are following this story on here or AO3. For those of you reading it on tumblr, the rest of the story can be found here. I love hearing from you, so feel free to send me your thoughts. Part 9 will be out after the end of the @everlarkficexchange​ on April 12.

Trigger warning: mature themes (including infidelity).

___________

  Katniss gulped, and her vision darkened. Peeta’s ex-wife. Peeta’s ex-wife was standing in her doorway, and Katniss reflexively hid her left hand behind her back. She didn’t have a ring, but somehow her bare finger felt like a betrayal to both her and Peeta. All the peace she’d gained from talking to her sister evaporated quickly. She was such a fucking cliché.

 Madge Mellark…

 Katniss gaped at the woman in the hall—blonde, gorgeous, and remarkably composed for someone confronting her ex-husband’s mistress. What the fuck was she doing here? Did Peeta give her the address? Panic spiked in her chest, and she blinked rapidly as she tried to figure out whether to slam the door or run. Both were equally terrible options that sounded infinitely better than talking to the woman whose husband she’d stolen.

 “I can see you’re overjoyed to see me,” Madge said dryly, and Katniss attempted to close her mouth and stop looking like a psychotic fish.

 “I’m… Uh, I don’t— What are you doing here?” Katniss gasped, unable to make her voice more than a ragged mess.

 “I came to talk,” she answered. There was an edge to her voice, but it wasn’t rude. Somehow, that made Katniss feel worse.

 “C-come in. I guess.”

 “How gracious.”

 Katniss winced at the sarcasm in the other woman’s voice, but she couldn’t really blame her. Chagrined, she stepped aside and motioned for Madge to enter her apartment.

 “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?” Katniss could barely speak, and she wanted to down about a fifth of vodka herself. There was no way in hell this was normal. How was she supposed to handle this?

 “I’m fine. I won’t be here long.”

 “Oh.”

 Katniss perched on the chair, ready to spring from it at any second. Madge settled primly on the edge of the couch, seemingly unsure if she wanted to touch anything at all. If Katniss hadn’t been so shocked, she might have been pissed. This woman acted like everything around her was filthy and diseased. The metaphor wasn’t terribly funny.

 “I know this is irregular. I didn’t want to have to come here today. In fact, I didn’t ever want to have to see you again at all, but that’s simply not practical anymore.”

 “Not…practical,” Katniss said slowly, the words dripping off her tongue like molasses.

 “You’re engaged to my ex-husband.”

 “Yes. I am,” she confirmed. That seemed like something steady she could cling to in the midst of this bizarre experience.

 “As you can imagine, I’m not thrilled with how you two— With how—” Madge paused, her striking blue eyes glazing over for the briefest moment. “I’m not here to judge you. I will never understand how you could do what you did, how he could do what he did, but that’s not why I’m here.”

 Katniss studied the woman carefully for a few minutes. Madge was shaking slightly, out of anger or something else, Katniss wasn’t sure. Underneath the composed façade, Peeta’s ex-wife was clearly and understandably upset. She was remarkably beautiful, and Katniss wondered briefly why her fiancé would willingly give up someone so lovely for her who was quiet, introverted, insecure, and detached.

 “Why are you here?”

 Madge sucked in a deep breath and held it for several seconds. She seemed to be warring with herself, and Katniss waited, unwillingly to spark an angry outburst or something worse, like tears. She twisted her fingers and toyed with her left ring finger. There was a thin line that was lighter than the rest of her skin.

 “I just stopped wearing it a few weeks ago,” Madge admitted brokenly. “I thought he’d come back. I really did.”

 Katniss offered awkwardly, “I’m sorry.”

 “I wish I believed that.”

 “I wish you did, too.”

 “How could you?” she whispered. “How could you do what you did?”

 Katniss shrank back. This was too much. This was her own home, and that question was wildly inappropriate, regardless of what had happened between Peeta and her.

 “Don’t answer that. I didn’t come here to ask you that.” A few moments passed during which Madge fought for composure. “You’re going to marry my husband.”

 “Ex-husband,” Katniss snapped, her patience disintegrating quickly.

 “Ex-husband, yes,” Madge corrected quickly. “I’m not saying any of this right. I’m trying so hard not to be angry, but I think you understand the problem.”

 Katniss stood and headed for the door. “I understand, but this is really not okay.”

 “You’re going to be my son’s step-mother!” Katniss stopped and swiveled to face the other woman. Stricken, Madge twisted her hands in her lap. “I love my son. I needed to see you again. To make sure. To know he’ll be in good hands. We met such a long time ago, and it was under very different circumstances.”

 “I remember,” Katniss said quietly.

 “Do you?”

 She did. It was right after she’d been hired at her job, and there was a company picnic for employees and their families. She’d been alone, and Peeta had invited her to join him and his wife. Madge had been friendly enough but just a little bit aloof, and Katniss had known the two wouldn’t ever really be close friends. Peeta’s divided attention between the two women had obviously grated on his wife’s nerves, even though she’d tried to hide it from her husband. Katniss had written it off at the time—after all, she hadn’t been interested in Peeta back then, hadn’t seen him as anything other than a close friend. If she’d only known then what she knew now, she would never have agreed to sit with them that day. Somehow, having met his wife before the affair started made it so much worse.

 She nodded and stared miserably at her hands. “I do.”

 “I knew then that there was something between you. Peeta had never been so obsessed with a co-worker, and you were awkward and unsure. He loves saving people.”

 “He really does,” Katniss agreed softly.

 “He needs to take care of his son.”

 Katniss stared at the woman on the couch and felt ill. As awkward and terrible as Madge’s visit was, the confrontation made sense. At least in some twisted, fractured, insane way, Peeta’s ex-wife was doing her best to protect her family.

 “Well, you’ve seen me again. Met me officially, I guess.”

 Madge swallowed and nodded. “I have.”

 Katniss crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the ceiling. She hesitated, talked herself out of speaking, and then decided she had to say something—even if it was wrong.

 “Look. I know you have no reason to believe me. No reason to think I’m trustworthy or anything other than a terrible person, but I’m going to marry Peeta. I love him. I won’t do anything to hurt him.”

 They stared at each other, gazes locked, appraising and evaluating.

 “So.”

 “So,” Katniss agreed. The implication hung between them.

 I won’t hurt Peeta, and Peeta loves his child. Your son is safe and loved.

 “I think it’s time for you to go.”

 Katniss was impressed with herself for saying it and for not everything else. A few weeks ago, she would have crumbled in this situation. Madge could have flogged her and berated her, and she would have taken it. She would have thought she wasn’t worth Peeta’s love; that she deserved to be tortured for her decisions and indiscretions. Still, those nagging thoughts haunted her. She woke to them every day and fought them in her dreams every night.

 And.

 She loved Peeta. He loved her. They had made their individual and combined commitments to be together, to bring a child into the world, to marry and forge a new family. Maybe she didn’t deserve it, but she was going to take it.

 Madge rose and held her head high as she strode to the door. She paused in the hallway, surveyed Katniss for several seconds, and then turned and walked away. Katniss watched her back until she rounded the corner and then closed the door. The instant it shut, she sank to the floor and tucked her head between her legs. Emotions welled inside her, and Katniss fought through a panic attack, breathing in and out and concentrating on slowing her heart rate.

 When she’d calmed enough that she didn’t feel like she was going to vomit at any second, she placed her palms on her stomach and held them there. She was going to have a baby, and she already loved the child so much it made her insides quiver. Madge’s visit was absolutely absurd, but…Katniss understood the fierce need to protect her child.

 Eventually, she moved to the couch and lay down on the cushions. She stared into space and considered her situation. Peeta had asked her to marry him. They were going to be husband and wife. He’d clearly shared that information with his ex-wife. There was no other logical explanation for why the woman had shown up on Katniss’ doorstep this morning.

 She wanted to text him or call him or something, but she also needed time alone to think, to plan, and to heal. She needed to go to the doctor. They needed a marriage license. Decisions about where they’d live. Meeting their respective families. The afternoon slid by as she plotted and planned. By the time the room darkened in the late afternoon, she was in control.

 “Katniss?”

 She blinked and her head spun as she sat upright. “Hey,” she offered with a weak smile when he entered the room. He leaned down to kiss her, and she grabbed his neck and tugged him down next to her.

 “We need to talk.”

 He kissed her temple and smiled down at her. “Everything okay?”

 “Everything’s fine.”

 “Have a good day? Anything exciting happen?”

 She cuddled into his side and shook her head. “I told Prim.”

 “How’d she take that?”

 “Better than I expected.”

 “I told Madge,” he admitted. “Figured she should know sooner rather than later.”

 “Ah,” she hummed into his skin. There was no way in fuck she was going to tell him what had happened earlier. “How’d she take it?”

 “Not great. Lots of yelling.”

 “That sounds terrible.”

 “It wasn’t the best.”

 “Any regrets?”

 “None,” he chuckled, “and don’t you think the time’s past for that? We’ve been divorced for months.”

 “Hey, Peeta.”

 “Yeah?”

 “I really love you.”

 “I really love you too.”

 They fell into each other, and it felt like coming home.

 “Are you okay? Feeling alright?” he murmured against her neck. “I missed you today.”

 “Missed you too, hon. Made some decisions. I really need your cock inside me now.”

 “Why does that always seem to be the best thing you can say to me?”

 “Because you’re a horny man who loves to dick me up.”

 Peeta groaned enthusiastically and got to work. He stripped her from the waist down and spread her open. She moaned as his fingers stroked her, dipping into her and drawing moisture from her and painting her inner thighs.

 “I thought you said we needed to talk.”

 “After,” she insisted. “I need you first.”

 “Come home with me for Thanksgiving? Meet my parents and brothers?”

 “I love your dirty talk.”

 “I’ll give you multiple orgasms if you say yes.”

 “Yes.”

 “Fuck. No hesitation at all. Sexy as hell,” he grunted and unbuttoned his jeans. “Put your leg over the top of the couch.”

 She lost track of everything at that point. He sank into her with praise on his lips, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. She was still a little unsteady after the encounter with Madge, but she knew she couldn’t tell Peeta. It was too much for him to take, and the last thing she wanted to do was give his ex-wife any other reason to hate her or threaten another look at visitation rights. She didn’t want a custody battle on her hands. It would break her fiancé. No, the best idea was to let Madge tell him herself if she wanted. Katniss didn’t have to say anything at all.

 It took her several minutes to realize Peeta’s movements were erratic, that he was nearing the brink, and she’d barely paid attention at all. Her leg was bent over his shoulder, and he was rutting into her hard. His eyelashes were tangled in the light, and she raised her hand to trace his cheekbone, so prominent when he was aroused.

 “Peeta,” she breathed.

 His frantic pace stopped. He gained control and opened his eyes to look at her. The blue there melted into pools of adoration from flints of determination.

 “Katniss,” he whispered in return. It took a few awkward seconds, but he pulled her upright and settled her onto his lap. “You are so beautiful.”

 “Enjoy it while it lasts,” she teased and kissed him softly. “I’m gonna be all big and awkward soon enough.”

 He cupped her face and ran his lips across her eyebrows, temple, cheek, jawline, neck, and eventually, slowly, her collarbone, where he sucked a slow, lazy, searing kiss.

 “Your breasts are already fuller,” he murmured while reverent hands traced her body, “and your stomach. So smooth with just a little tiny hint of a bump. That’s our baby, sweetheart.”

 Tears clogged her throat, and she nodded, unable to speak, scared to say anything that would break the spell of them together. She fitted her forehead against his and breathed deeply. She rolled her hips, and he met them with his own. Slowly, reverentially, passionately, they brought each other to completion. They took their time, stretching and reveling in each second, each touch, each blissful moment when it was just the two of them expressing their mutual adoration.

 “I’ll never get over how lucky I am to have met you,” he mumbled into her hair when she slumped against him with ragged breathing.

 She snorted and quickly apologized. “I’m not sure lucky’s the word, babe. We’ve fought hard for this. We made terrible, painful decisions to be together.”

 “And I’d choose them every time to be with you.”

 She smiled gently and pushed back to survey him. Hair wrecked, t-shirt rucked up, and a satiated look on this face made him look like he was about 15 years younger than he was. If they’d met then instead, back when he was still single, before he’d married Madge, Katniss wondered how differently their relationship would have developed. Would they have been best friends first? Would he have asked her out right away?

 Her stomach growled, and she smiled at his bemused expression. “I kind of forgot to eat today,” she admitted, and he scrambled into action.

 “Get dressed. Do you have anything to cook, or do I need to run out for something? You’re pregnant, Kat. You can’t just not eat.” He looked so earnest and just a tiny bit scared that she wanted to wrap herself in him and stay safely ensconced in his arms forever.

 “Can we get Chinese food?”

 He nodded and grabbed his phone. “Cashew chicken? Pork fried rice?”

 “Yeah, and eggrolls. Oh, and get some pot stickers, too.”

 “Fried or boiled?”

 “Oh hell, can we get both? I’m starving.”

 He looked at her fiercely and pointed to the bedroom. “Go change into something comfortable. Something warm, please. You’re cold. I see goosebumps. Then we’re having that conversation you wanted before you decided to seduce me.”

 “Seduce you?” she protested. “I was just saying hello to my fiancé after a long day apart.”

 “Seduction,” he argued and twirled his finger at her. “That was all you. Warm clothes. Now.”

 She arched her back and stretched, just to show him she’d take her time, thank you very much—and maybe a little bit to make her breasts more prominent and to display the moisture in the curls between her legs from their earlier activities. He glared at her and shook his head.

 “Don’t even try that with me,” he insisted. “Now, go. I’m ordering food.”

 She pretended to grumble as she slunk down the hallway, but she was grinning too hard to make it believable. Despite the shock of Madge’s morning visit, Katniss felt more in control of her life than she had in a very long time. They would eat soon, and they would talk about the things they’d avoided for far too long.

 After a quick rinse in the shower and a few minutes taking care of business, she went back to the living room and tucked into her corner of the couch. He turned sideways to face her and nodded, indicating he was ready to listen.

 “I had a lot of time to think today,” she began. “I think I needed that. Can I ask you a really honest question?”

 “Of course.”

 “What makes me worth this to you?” He started to protest, and she cut him off before he could. “This is not an insecurity thing, Peeta. Just please answer.”

 He inhaled deeply and held it a while. Then, he answered carefully, “I knew from the second I met you that you’d be my Achilles heel. There’s something so genuinely special about you that I knew the instant I saw you. You’re kind and thoughtful. You care about other people. You’re fierce when you need to be but would rather take a backseat and let someone else’s potential shine. You worry about being good and doing the right thing, and that means a lot to me. You fought for me by staying away, but you also saved me by letting me have you.”

 His fingers linked with hers, and she watched his throat bob and constrict. “Go on,” she urged.

 “You were so lonely. I could see it in a way no one else seemed to want to acknowledge, and it broke my heart. So many things haven’t worked out for you, but you didn’t complain. You just kept going and kept caring for everyone else and accepting that you didn’t need or deserve all the love and care and attention you shower on others. And you not knowing how I felt about you, how much you changed my life, was evidence that everything I’m saying is true. You didn’t expect anything, and that’s why I couldn’t help but want to give you the whole world.”

 “I remember the first time we really talked,” she laughed. “Remember that? At that first work party?”

 “Yeah. We used to have a lot of parties,” he said, a fond smile gracing his lips. “That was just a few weeks before the picnic where…”

 She ignored his insinuation and kept talking. She wanted to get this out while she could still talk coherently.

 “You were the most gorgeous creature I’d ever seen, with those deep blue eyes and ashy blonde curls and wide shoulders and lean waist. I didn’t think you were real, and I had this desperation inside me when you looked at me. You weren’t wearing a wedding ring, and I hoped for a few minutes… I hoped that meant you were available.”

 “I can’t remember why I didn’t have it on that day.”

 “Doesn’t matter, really, I guess, but we talked for a few minutes and you mentioned your wife. I was heartbroken, but I put you away into the friend category then and never intended to take you out of it.”

 “I was trying to set up boundaries,” he explained. “I knew I was in trouble from that first conversation, and I thought telling you about Madge would stop anything from happening. You’re the strong one, and I thought I’d be okay if I put the onus on you to keep it platonic. I should have been the one to take the burden.”

 “Maybe,” she acknowledged, “but I think we both dealt with it in the best way we knew how.”

 “So, poorly, you mean.”

 She chuckled and twisted her hand to caress his palm. “I need to go to the doctor, start taking care of this baby the way I should be.”

 “I’ll go with you.”

 “And I want to marry you soon,” she insisted. “I don’t want a wedding or a big party or a fuss. I’ve never needed anything but you, so please don’t fight me. We need to tell Haymitch at work, and I’m hoping we can take a day off work together next week and go down to the courthouse and make this official.”

 “Katniss—”

 “That’s what I want, Peeta.”

 A war played out on his face before he finally relented. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

 “I think we should get a different place. Not your studio and not this apartment. Too many memories of us sneaking around together here. Someplace that’s ours, not a place to come play with your mistress.”

 “Okay.”

 “And this is the last time I’m going to apologize, but I am sorry, Peeta. I love you, and I love this baby we’ve made together. I cannot tell you enough how much I want to be your wife, to be Mrs. Peeta Mellark, to share the rest of my life with you and make a home and raise a family together. I want all of those things with you and a billion more.”

 “I want that, too.”

 “And— This is important. And I’m sorry for hurting you and not fighting for you earlier and not staying away and letting your marriage work. I’m sorry for making things difficult and being insecure and doubting you. I’m sorry for what’s going to come when we get backlash for what we did. I will face it with you, and I’m not going to apologize any more. Not for this. Not for finding my soulmate and accepting that we belong together.”

 Tears tracked down his cheeks, and she realized hers were wet, too. He tried to speak several times and couldn’t, and she waited patiently while he put himself back together.

 “I love you so much, baby,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry you didn’t get the fairytale. You deserve to have something easy and wonderful. I’m sorry you’ve been burned.”

 “I chose you. I’m choosing you again right now.”

 “Playing with fire. We’ve been playing with fire the entire time.”

 She forced his eyes to hers and stated resolutely, “I’d rather get burned than freeze to death without you.”

  He hiccupped, and his shoulders shook with wry laughter. “That sounds about right. Like I said, you’re the strong one. All the fire, and I’m…”

 “You are a good, good man, Peeta. You are. You tried, and you screwed up. You messed up a million times, but you’ve beaten yourself up for it enough. I know the guilt eats you up inside, but I’m marrying you, and I need you to forgive yourself. And I need you to forgive me. Otherwise, our marriage is doomed. If you had to hurt your wife and child for us to have this chance, then don’t hurt the second ones because you feel guilty about the first.”

 Silence fell between them as they faced each other, fingers together, lives intertwined. She observed the way his shoulders fell and then straightened, the resolute clench in his jaw, the surety in his eyes when he finally spoke.

 “I’ve always wanted to get married on a Thursday.”

 “Well, buckle up because I have nothing planned that day.”

 He grinned and pulled out his phone. “Let me just put that in my calendar. Hmm… Thursday, November 21. Sounds like a good day to take a wife.”

 The food arrived a few minutes after they solidified their plans, and then life shifted into frantic mode for the next few days. They asked her sister for an OBGYN reference and made an appointment, at which the doctor confirmed they were approximately ten weeks pregnant. They met with Haymitch at work on Monday and explained the situation, asking for time off on Thursday to get married and dealt with PR issues in the office. She asked Annie to be her witness, and Finnick agreed to be Peeta’s best man. She found a dress at a second-hand store and bought a ring to put on her fiancé’s finger.

 Thursday arrived with another bout of morning sickness and nerves. Katniss put mascara remover on her forehead instead of her eyes and washed her hair with conditioner twice before realizing it wasn’t clean at all. She finally managed to get dressed, brush her teeth for the third time after being sick twice, and find her phone before it was time to meet Peeta at the courthouse.

 The marriage ceremony was uneventful. It took all of five minutes, and Annie and Finnick were the only two people there who knew them. Katniss had made a calculated decision not to tell Prim until after it was done, and Peeta couldn’t exactly ask Madge to bring their son. Katniss still hadn’t told Peeta about his ex-wife’s visit, and she hoped Madge would keep it quiet too. She didn’t want to have to explain why she’d been less than forthcoming.

 The newly married couple spent their wedding night at Peeta’s studio, which he’d packed except for the bed. He planned to stay at her place until they found a home that was theirs, but they needed time for that. Since Katniss had agreed to go home with him for Thanksgiving, she figured they’d look once they got back from Virginia and she met the rest of the Mellarks.

 They made love and talked and dozed throughout the night, too wound up to do much beyond catching sleep in intermittent bursts. At eleven weeks, her breasts were larger and much more tender than normal, and she was constantly exhausted in a way she hadn’t been since she’d contracted mononucleosis in undergrad. She didn’t have enough energy for really innovative sex, but Peeta didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he spent most of the night pleasuring her until she was a melted puddle of want, clinging to him and begging him to make her come.

 “Thank you for seeing the real me and still wanting me,” she breathed after he’d brought her to orgasm for the millionth time in a very short time period.

 His mouth found hers, and she groaned at the taste of her on his lips. His tongue, which had been burrowed inside her only moments before, plundered her mouth and stroked and massaged her lips until she lost the ability to speak.

 “You’re worth everything I’ve been through, Katniss. Thank you for marrying me. For becoming my wife.”

 “Wife…” she whispered, unbelieving that he was actually—legally—hers after the sordid affair, hiding how they felt, and sneaking around for so long. She clung to him until she finally managed, “And you’re my husband.”

 His eyes sparkled with emotion, and he nodded. “Forever.”

 Are you ever going to be able to trust him? echoed in her brain, but she pushed it aside. She’d made her choice, and she was done apologizing.

 Returning to work on Monday was harder than she imagined. She was exhausted still, and she didn’t want to be there for the shortened work week when it was so close to the holiday and meeting Peeta’s family for the first time. She was so far beyond nervous she assumed what she was feeling was something akin to petrified, and the morning sickness hadn’t let up at all. The last thing she wanted was for Johanna to say something that would set her off, but there was no way her new golden band wouldn’t be a topic of conversation as soon as she walked into the office.

 Johanna didn’t disappoint. She wolf-whistled as Katniss sat at her desk and rolled her chair closer to get a look at the ring.

 “No diamond? I thought Peeta’d want to decorate you right away,” her co-worker snarked.

 Katniss didn’t respond; instead, she booted up her computer and opened files she needed to be able to help the children who deserved protection from the cruelties of the world. She opened a package of saltines and placed them on the desk next to her and put a straw in her ginger ale.

 “Jo,” Annie’s quiet voice said, “leave her alone. She’s been through enough.”

 “I bet Madge doesn’t think so.”

 Katniss saw red and glared at her co-worker. “Madge isn’t his wife anymore. I am. I know the way it happened doesn’t meet with your approval, but it’s really none of your fucking business. Now, shut up, or I’m asking Haymitch to move my desk away from your bitchy attitude. I have work to do.”

 The rest of the morning passed in blessed silence. Johanna clearly didn’t want their boss to reprimand her, so she kept her disapproval of Katniss to herself. Annie sank into her own world, and Katniss worked steadily through the folders until Peeta popped by to see if she wanted to go to lunch. It wasn’t until she was back in the office at the tail end of the lunch hour that she realized she and Johanna were alone together.

 “I had an affair,” Johanna said softly, and Katniss snapped her eyes up. “I was in love with someone. He was married. He said he’d leave his wife. He didn’t.”

 Katniss doesn’t know what to say, so she only offers, “Oh.”

 “His name was Brutus. I should have known better than to believe him, but I fell hard. We got outed by one of his wife’s friends who caught us together, and it was ugly,” she explained. “I guess I’m a little jealous your situation worked out when mine didn’t. That Peeta was worth it when Brutus wasn’t. I wasn’t his only other distraction, you see. He was cheating on his wife with a hell of a lot more people than me.”

 “I’m sorry to hear that,” Katniss blurted, unable to bear the pain in her co-worker’s voice, “but you can’t possibly believe that our relationship—mine and Peeta’s—has been smooth sailing.”

 “Maybe not, but the end result is the same. You married the man you love. I found out mine was a jackass who never cared about me at all.” Johanna surveyed her quietly for a while before ordering, “Don’t screw it up, or all you’ve done is break up two families.”

 Katniss flushed and tugged at the bottom of her sweater. She didn’t want to know if Johanna suspected her pregnancy, but it wouldn’t surprise her if she did. She was wan and drawn in a way she’d never been before, and the rushed wedding must have pricked some suspicions in a few people. It was with great relief when Johanna said goodbye to Annie at the end of the day with the pronouncement that she wouldn’t be back until after the holiday. Katniss looked forward to using the peace and quiet the next day before they flew out to Peeta’s hometown for Thanksgiving.

 “I think maybe we should consider seeing your family over the holiday, too,” Peeta announced as they tried to pack in between rounds of sex. Every time Katniss pushed him away, he reminded her with sweet kisses and insistent hands that they were newlyweds of only a few days. Her new husband was disgustingly persistent, and she only pretended to mind when he managed to get her naked and on her knees on the bed surrounded by a partially packed suitcase and neatly folded stacks of clothes.

 “You can’t spring that on me, and then make me forget you said it,” she groaned after she collapsed into the piles of clothes that were no longer clean, let alone folded. He kissed the nape of her neck and ran his fingers through the moisture between her legs. She shivered when he trailed his wet fingers up her torso and circled her nipples until they glistened.

 “I can if we do actually spend the entire holiday with my family and then yours,” he mumbled while sucking hard on the hollow behind her ear.

 “Why’s that?”

 “Because we probably won’t be having a lot of hot sex if we stay with them.”

 “Oh god,” she gasped. “I’ve changed my mind. We should stay here and in bed the entire time.”

 “Sweetheart,” he said firmly, “it’s time. Do you really want to wait until Christmas to do this? Because I thought maybe we’d spend that holiday by ourselves.”

 “We can always go at Easter.”

 “Not really. Third trimester.”

 “Shit. Fine. Yeah, we can drive over and see my family, then. Now, get the hell off me. I need to repack everything.”

 “You do not,” he insisted and licked her nipples clean. “If fact, what I really think you need to do is sit on my face.”

 “Well, if you insist.”

 She was exhausted and sick in the morning again, but Peeta held her hair and rubbed her back until she felt better. He made her toast and carried their suitcases as they went to work. At the end of the day, she’d be on a plane to Virginia to meet Peeta’s mother, who had loved Madge and screamed at Peeta when he told her they were getting divorced. The hours both dragged and sped by, and she met Peeta by the elevator so they could leave for the airport.

 “Mrs. Mellark, I am so ready to spend our first holiday together.”

 “My mother will be happy to hear that,” Katniss teased and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Because that’s the only Mrs. Mellark I know.”

 “Sweetheart, Mrs. Mellark is my mother, not yours.”

 She laughed when she realized he was right. She was so tired, and she wondered briefly if his arms around her were the only reason she hadn’t stumbled and fallen.

 “So chivalrous,” she mumbled against his cheek. “The Everdeen women love that.”

 “So, what you’re saying is that I’ll charm your mom?” Peeta murmured and ducked his head to glance his lips across her neck.

 Katniss closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax in his arms. She felt an insatiable stab of lust as he pressed his body against hers. “You could charm anyone, hon. Those lips of yours. That silver tongue. Good god, you turn me on so much…”

 “Yeah? Mmmm.”

 She turned in his arms and sought his mouth with hers. His tongue traced her bottom lip when they suddenly came to a jarring halt.

 “What was that?” she gasped and winced at the sound of grinding gears. “Why’d we stop?”

 “I’m not sure.”

 Peeta grasped her hand quickly before moving to the controls and punching the button for the building’s lobby. Nothing happened, and he glanced at her with a worried look etched on his handsome face.

 “Are we stuck?” She fought the first vestiges of panic and peered around his shoulder. “Is there a call button?”

 “I don’t know, sweetie. Hold on a second.”

 She took a few breaths, but she couldn’t get any air in her lungs. The walls seemed to be closing in on them, and she gripped the railing in a desperate attempt to stay calm. She hadn’t told him about her struggles with claustrophobia. Somehow it hadn’t come up in the context of all the other problems they faced.

 “We can’t be stuck. We have a flight to catch. Thanksgiving with our families. This is the first time I’m meeting your mother. You’re meeting mine. Peeta, we can’t be stuck!”

 She shook as she screeched the last few words. This couldn’t be happening. Not when their relationship was just starting to feel like a real one instead of a horrific series of bad choices and mistakes. Not when she was finally able to start building the life she’d yearned to have for years.

 “Hey,” he said gently. “I’m right here. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

 Tears pricked her eyes, and her chest heaved a few times before she was able to speak. His look of concern only made her feel worse. How could she explain how much hope she’d pinned to their last-minute holiday plans? How could she admit she dreamed of a warm reception from his parents so she could finally feel like she’s a legitimate partner in her husband’s life? They were married and expecting a baby, and none of their family even knew.

 “I’m fine,” she insisted with a shake of her shoulders. “Where’s the call button?”

 “It’s right here. It’s right here, Katniss,” he soothed and gripped her shoulders and rubbed them.

 “Call it,” she yelped. “Call it!”

 Peeta stared at her as she spiraled. She’d freaked out around him before, but usually the cause for her panic was him and their relationship. She didn’t like feeling out of control. She didn’t like that she couldn’t get out of this box. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t—

 The elevator shuddered and started moving again, and she sucked in a deep breath. She moaned and swallowed so hard her throat hurt. Wide-eyed, she watched the numbers tick down to one and staggered out the open doors as soon as the ding sounded.

 “Katniss?” Peeta’s voice came from behind her, and she frantically scrubbed the tears from her face and worked to slow her breathing.

 “I’m claustrophobic,” she finally huffed. His hands squeezed her shoulders, and his eyes searched her face. “I— It hadn’t come up yet.”

 He held her close for several seconds and kissed her forehead. Reluctantly, he asked, “Are you okay? Because we really need to go. Traffic’s going to be terrible, and our flight—”

 She nodded, shaky and unsteady, but she knew he was right. Making the flight was going to be tight even without the elevator issue. She could get it together in the cab and on the plane. Never mind that she was heading into two family situations that scared her as much or more than anything else she’d faced in her life.

 She trembled all the way to the airport, and they rushed through security and to the gate just in time to make it on board. She waited impatiently until the “fasten seatbelts” light clicked off, and then she made a beeline for the bathroom. She wasn’t that far along yet, but the baby had already made very good friends with her bladder. She needed to go really badly. When she returned to her seat, Peeta took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers.

 “You okay?” he asked, his face a mask of concern. She nodded and tucked her head into his shoulder. “You ready to talk about it yet?”

 Shaking her head, she rubbed her thumb back and forth across the back of his hand. Mercifully, he didn’t push. Instead, he settled his head and hers and hummed softly to her. The music worked its way through her, relaxing her bit by bit. Eventually, she joined him, her mezzo voice blending with his until sleep overtook her.

 She jerked awake when the plane landed. The peace she’d found while in the air evaporated as they walked hand in hand down the jetway and to the baggage carousel.

 “We shouldn’t have checked anything. Carryon only from now on,” she said with a smile as they watched the conveyor belt turn without bringing any bags to the passengers.

 “Or we could always go naked wherever we go.”

 “That sounds like such a better plan,” she sighed. “And you had to bring that up now that we’re here and won’t have privacy for almost a week. I’ll shrivel up and die without you.”

 He grinned at her and hugged her to his side. “You will not.”

 “Uh huh.”

 He leaned down to kiss her, and she opened her mouth under his. His mouth was filthy on hers, and she felt his want down to her toes. She was just getting ready to suggest they find somewhere for a quickie when he broke away and tensed.

 “What’s wrong?” He glanced down at her quickly and then past her to something she couldn’t see.

 “Hi, Mom,” he said tentatively.

 Katniss whirled to meet his mother. She plastered a smile on her face but froze when she saw the glacier cold look in the woman’s eyes.

 “Hello, Peeta. My divorced son, and his mistress. How lovely. Bringing the homewrecker with you to the family gathering. I have so much to be thankful for this holiday.”

 “What did you say?” Peeta asked. His ashen face registered shock and fury.

 “I said that I’m so glad you brought your lover home with you. Nothing like an extra-marital affair to make the holidays cheery.”

 “Peeta!”

 A huge voice boomed around them, and Peeta relaxed an infinitesimal amount. “Hi, Dad.”

 “Hi, son. And who do we have here?” Mr. Mellark asked as he looked at Katniss.

 “His mistress.”

 “No,” Peeta said firmly, “not my mistress. My wife.”

#too familiar #everlark #everlark fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Hand in Glove - Chapter 22 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: I saved a bat earlier this week, and the feels got me writing up a storm. For reals. Also, a lot is going on in this chapter, and you might get whiplash. Sorry, not sorry. 

Warnings: the usual, but things might get a bit weird there for a hot minute. Again, not sorry.

Wordcount: ~4.7K (does this count as a fuckton, as well?) 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,  Chapter 3,  Chapter 4,  Chapter 5,  Chapter 6,  Chapter 7,  Chapter 8,  Chapter 9,  Chapter 10,  Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14 , Chapter 15 , Chapter 16 , Chapter 17 , Chapter 18 , Chapter 19 , Chapter 20 , Chapter 21

Annie stared out the passenger side's window, tears silently falling down. Ben's gone. As soon as they untangled themselves from their embrace at the airport, the reality of it all hit her like a ton of bricks. Her Ben is gone, and she's not quite sure when he'll be able to come visit, and she wasn't quite sure she can manage this. She clasped her hands and squeezed them between her knees.

"Banana?"

Annie turned to face her cousin and saw his heart break at the sight of her face. Nose red and cheeks splotchy and wet from weeping.

"Oh, Annie." Gwilym reached over and squeezed her thigh gently. "You wanna talk?"

Annie shook her head and pursed her lips. Rory was in her carseat, cooing, clapping and kicking happily as she chewed on a toy.

"Do you want me to stay over with you tonight?"

"I don't know."

Gwilym licked his lips and nodded solemnly. He turned the radio on for some background noise. Ironically enough, the riff to Queen's "Under Pressure" started playing.

"Bloody hell." Annie breathed out what sounded like a chuckle. "Is this for real? Is this really happening? That better be Vanilla fucking Ice."

However, Annie’s wishes did not come true. Freddie Mercury’s Um bum ba be soon followed the familiar bass riff, eliciting a dramatic groan from Annie. She did not appreciate the symbolism of the song with her current situation.

"Pressure!" Gwil belted out, "Pushing down on me, pressing down on you, no man asks for!"

"Gwilym..." Annie closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Under pressure!" he started snapping his fingers to the beat as he sang, "that burns a building down, splits a family in two. Puts people on streets."

"Um ba ba be..." Annie sighed in defeat, rolled her eyes and joined in.

###

“God, you’re beautiful.”

“You don’t have to say that every single time!” Annie scoffed and readjusted Rory on her lap, stretching her arm out in front of her, holding her phone.

“I was talking to Rory.” Ben smirked cheekily.

“Sod off!” Annie stuck her tongue out over Rory’s head.

“Did you have a good day today?” Ben asked, the scenery behind him changing as he walked. “Tell me all about it.”

“Well, I worked.” Annie switched hands. “Rory spent the day with her uncle Rami this time.”

“Alone?”

“Indeed.”

“How did that go?” Ben chuckled.

“He tried to play peek-a-boo with her, but that seemed to terrify the living daylight out of her.” Annie smiled. “So much so, that he had to bring her to my set. She was inconsolable.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“Poor Rami.”

“He was mortified.”

“How was work?”

“Same as it always is. I think I fell asleep while I got my hair and makeup done.”

“You think? You don’t know?”

“I mean, everything is such a blur.” Annie shrugged. “I have no idea what’s been happening since you’ve left. I only have bits and glimpses of memories, sort of.”

“It’s only been one week, Annie!”

“Which is the same amount of time I haven’t gotten more than four hours of sleep at best, Ben!” Annie shot back. “Don’t you dare berate me. You don’t know what it’s like for me -”

“I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” Ben smiled softly. “You’re honestly killing it. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Me neither.”

“I found an apartment in Phoenix today!” Ben beamed. “No more hotels!”

“Finally!”

“Yeah! So, lots of table-readings this week and I don’t know, pre-production things going on. I’m working out for hours on end. So exhausting!” Ben scratched his blond locks of hair. “I’m doing my own stunts.”

“I had no doubt in my mind that you would.” Annie smirked. “So other than the peek-a-boo incident, our day was splendid.”

“Good, good!” Ben said and lit up when he finally got Rory’s attention. “What else did you do?”

Annie continued to tell him about the day’s events while he, waved, made funny faces at blew kisses at the camera. He glanced to the side every now and then, reacting to some of the weird looks he attracted from passers-by.

###

“Right, baby!” Joe clapped before he picked Rory up from the play-mat and bounced her on his hip. “Your parents clearly stated that it’s bath time, and I do not want to face the Supreme Leader’s wrath when she gets home and I failed to follow instructions.”

Rory tilted her head as she listened.

“Please don’t snitch.”

“Apppfffffft.” Rory replied and looked down at the floor, pointing at her toys.

“Oh God, you’re second in command, aren’t you?” Joe squinted as he carefully bent down and picked up as many toys as he could in one hand. Rory clapped and slapped his shoulder. “Alright, alright! I’m doing the best I can here!”

Joe walked, nodding and “you don’t say!”-ing as Rory babbled on and on. He tossed the toys in the designated plastic bin and started up the stairs towards Rory’s room.

As she rambled on, Joe picked a onesie for her to sleep in, took a diaper out of a drawer and proceeded to the bathroom.

“Ah, fu-” he stopped himself when Rory’s baby blues stared at him innocently. He blinked and shrugged. “Uck!”

He forgot to set up the baby-bathtub in advance.

After lots of manoeuvring, swearing and threatening to eat Rory’s cheeks unless she stops being so cute, he finally got the tub up and ready with perfect-temperature water.

“S’hot in here.” Joe mumbled as he set Rory down on the counter. A lightbulb seemed to light up over his head. “So hot in here!”

Rory kicked and waved about as she laid on her back on the counter, a towel underneath her.

“Wanna lil’ bitta ah, ah,” Joe started singing, shaking his bum for emphasis, “and a lil’ bitta ah, ah!”

Rory shoved her fist in her mouth and cooed happily.

“I said!” Joe bellowed on as he took Rory’s clothes off. “It’s gettin’ hot in here, so take off all your clothes!” He tickled Rory’s bare belly. “I am gettin’ so hot, I wanna take my clothes off!” he continued in a high pitched voice, fanning himself with one hand and removing Rory’s diaper with the other.

Rory bubbled with laughter.

###

The house was dimly lit when Annie trudged through the front door, greeted by a yawning Frankie.

“Hey, girly.” She walked over to where Frankie laid and scratched the dog’s head. “Joe?”

“Kitchen!”

Annie walked through her home, dazed, her nose filled with the smell of tomato sauce. When she entered the kitchen, a steaming plate of ravioli waited for her as Joe washed the dishes.

“You shouldn’t have…” Annie mumbled as she shovelled food in her mouth.

“Oh, but I should.” Joe snickered to himself. “And I did.”

“How were they?”

“Pure angels.” Joe turned the faucet off and shook water off his hands before towelling off. “Gwil and Rami were so well behaved when we met at the park earlier! Rory and Frankie were okay, too.”

“Ha, ha.”

“She’s the best damn baby I’ve ever sat on.” Joe said, causing Annie to raise a confused eyebrow. “Because babysitting… oh God, please don’t tell my nephews I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Annie snorted. “Rory didn’t tear holes in your eardrums?”

“No, but I might’ve torn holes in hers when I started singing.”

“Singing?”

“Apparently, she’s a big fan of Nelly.”

“Nelly? The rapper?” Annie almost choked on her food. “The one with the band-aid?”

“Yeah!” Joe nodded. “Hot In Here is her new favourite song!”

“You didn’t.”

“Why not?!”

“It’s inappropriate!”

“You think that’s Inappropriate? How 'bout taking a shit in the bath,” Joe retorted. “You don’t see me scolding her for that, do you?”

“You should’ve waited for her to poop before you put her in the tub.”

“Well, I’m sorry for trying to stay on schedule, Your Majesty!” Joe crossed his arms, “and by the way, I cleaned the mess up. You’re. Welcome.”

###

“Uh, Annie?” Gwilym’s voice shook slightly as he tried his best not to hurl. “Annie, I need some help, please!” he raised his voice slightly and covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve. He looked down and Rory, splishing and splashing happily in the tub. “Oh, you’re just loving every bit of this, aren’t you? Little sh-”

“Call my daughter a little shit and I’ll personally break your neck.” Annie’s voice interrupted Gwilym’s tirade. “What’s that smell?” Annie sniffed and grimaced. “Oh no.”

“She pooped in the tub, Annie!” Gwil cried in between gags. “She pooped in the tub and - oh God.” Gwil’s face seemed to turn slightly yellow as he looked down at his chest. “Oh God, she splashed it on me.”

“Look, Gwilly, she can’t control her sphincters yet, alright?” Annie walked over to the tub and rolled up her sleeves. “Now either you make yourself useful or I’m dumping the shit-water all over you.”

Gwilym’s only response was the loudest, wettest burping gag Annie has ever heard.

“Good grief! It’s just poo!” Annie rolled her eyes. “Should’ve invited Joe over instead…” she mumbled as she picked Rory up and held her as far away from her body as she could.

“Excuse you!” Gwilym muffled from behind his sleeve. “Rude, much?”

“He handled bath-time poopies like a pro a couple of days ago, so…”

“You mean she’s done this before?”

“She’s a baby, Gwilym.” Annie set Rory on a soft towel on the bathroom sink counter. “She poops whether she wants to or not. Now, kindly dump the water from her tub into the big tub and refill it with clean water, please.”

“I am not touching the shit water.”

“Oh, my God!” Annie pressed her fingers to her temples. “Fine. I’ll bloody do it. Just make sure she doesn’t roll herself off the counter.”

###

"Annie, are you okay?"

Annie's eyes shot open.

"Did you just fall asleep standing up?" Mike put a reassuring hand on Annie's shoulder and pulled her in. She leaned in to rest her head against him. "Do you even sleep? Are you okay, Annie?"

"I try to." Annie yawned as she spoke. "I wake up so early to get Franks and Rory ready and then it's my turn and I always get in last minute for wardrobe, hair and makeup..." Annie sighed and closed her eyes again. "I really wish the season would wrap up already."

"That keen to get rid of me, huh?" Mike bumped his hip against Annie's.

"Oh, bugger off." Annie giggled. "I'm so bloody sleepy. Ben's been gone for... Um..."

"Alright! Boleyns!" the director yelled and clapped his hands. "Break time's over! Get in your places!"

Annie shut her brain off and worked on auto-pilot; a skill she aquired around two weeks after Ben's departure. She didn't quite remember how many takes she had to do and how many times she repeated her lines, over and over again. She felt like she left her own body for the duration of filming the scene and Anne Boleyn had taken over. In the weirdest sense, Annie was greatful for that. It finally gave Annie a chance to put her mind on ‘sleep mode’.

Yet, the very second the director shouted "Cut!", Anne had left and Annie's mind came rushing back. She made lists of things she needs to do still. Finish filming, go to ASDA, pick up Frankie from doggy-daycare. Come home and relieve whoever watched Rory of their duty. For the life of her, she couldn't remember if it was Lucy and Rami's turn, Joe's or Gwilym's.

When Annie reached her trailer at the end of the day, she had 20 unread texts and 3 missed calls, two of which were from Joe. The other one was Ben, followed by a ‘you're probably filming, call me when you can?’ text message. Scrolling through the rest of the texts, she noticed most were from Ben. She glanced at the time and then looked at the time of the missed call. It was 8pm as she gathered her things to leave work, and Ben called around 11am, London time. Meaning, he was awake at 3am in Arizona and tried to reach her.  

It only took two rings before Ben's smooth, sleepy voice came through the bluetooth speakers in her car.

"Annie?"

"What were you doing up at 3am on your day off?" Annie asked as she flicked the indicator handle up, signaling she was about to turn. "Were you blitzed again?"

"No, just missed you. Couldn't sleep." She heard sheets rustling in the background. "Time's it?"

"Quarter past 8 here. Wanker!" Annie cursed and flipped off a driver as he cut her off. "Sorry. Not you. Some arse."

"Fucking hell." Ben mumbled and rubbed his face. "I slept through my alarm. It's noon."

"When are you due on set?"

"It's just fittings and wardrobes stuff, I still have time. You're not home yet?"

"Obviously not."

"How much longer before you wrap up?" Ben sat up and leaned against his headboard. "Shouldn't be too long now."

"I really don't know." Annie chuckled softly. "I don't even remember who has -"

"Joe."

"Aw yes!" Annie pumped her fist victoriously, "ravioli night! Motherfucking arsehole! Use your blinker!!!"

"Fun." Ben's voice was flat. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then. Let me know when you're home, yeah? FaceTime, maybe?"

"Of course." Annie relaxed into her seat. "Joe will be thrilled!"

"I'm sure." Ben laughed. "Talk later, yeah?"

"Yes. I love you."

###

“Honey! I’m home!” Annie called dramatically as she shut the door behind her.

“Hello, dear!” Joe peeped from around the wall, where the arch to the living room was, baby in hand. “How was your day?”

“T’was lovely.” Annie yawned and kicked off her shoes. “Fell asleep standing up!”

“That’s on you, bub.” Joe switched Rory’s perch from one of his hips to the other. “We all asked you if you want us to spend the night after babysitting and your stubborn little tush just keeps refusing.”

“Stubborn… little… tush?” Annie’s face twisted in confusion. “What?”

“I’m trying to avoid bad words around her because she keeps giving me that face whenever I use… uh… profanities.”

“Does Ben know you’re here all day, thinking about my tush?” Annie smirked.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Joe scoffed, “Rory’s tush is far superior to yours. That’s the only tush I care about.”

“Well, Creepy Uncle Joe has arrived!” Annie rolled her eyes and laughed.

“Shut up, you know that’s not what I meant.” Joe sulked.

“I’m just pulling your leg, bub.”

“I asked Ben if he’s cool with me spending the night, y'know.” Joe passed Rory over to her mum’s waiting arms.

“Ah.” Annie nodded. “That explains it.”

“What?”

“Your name came up while we were on the phone and Ben was just… Meh.”

“Meh?”

“Yeah, meh. Told him you’re making me ravioli whenever you’re here and he was all -” Annie lowered her voice to mimic Ben, “- fun.”

“Can you blame him?” Joe set about cooking dinner. “My ravioli is probably the best in the world.”

“Modesty becomes you.” Annie joked. “Although it would be nice to have someone else go check on Rory in case she wakes up.”

“Tell you what.” Joe waved the wooden spoon. “I’ll stay for as long as you want me to. Not necessarily sleep over, just hang out until you kick me out.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

###

Beer bottles scattered the coffee table and living room floor. The only sounds and lights came from Rory’s baby monitor and the television. Frankie was sound asleep, her head right next to Annie’s lap. Annie, too, was asleep - her head resting on Joe’s shoulder. Joe’s head was thrown back, his mouth open as he snored softly, an arm wrapped around Annie’s shoulders.

It was Frankie’s barking that woke them up. Joe’s head flew right back to upright position. His cheek collided with Annie’s forehead. She tilted her head up a bit, her eyes fluttering open.

They lost count of how many beers they had, but they both still felt the effects of the alcohol in their system. Annie wasn’t sure if she’s just dreaming or if whatever was happening was, in fact, happening. She missed Ben dearly, in every possible way. Having close human contact like that made her feel lightheaded in the best way she could imagine.

Joe’s brows furrowed. There was some sensation going through him, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. He was absolutely sure, however, that he was still drunk. He turned his head slightly at the same time Annie cuddled up closer to him, the tips of their noses bumping.

What they were doing was wrong. Annie knew she was just taking advantage of a drunken opportunity she’ll definitely regret later, and Joe knew that doing this will mean crossing a line that shouldn’t be crossed. Yes, they played “House” together while Ben was gone, but it was just that - playing.

But her body was so warm against his, and her skin felt so soft against his stubble. He could almost brush her lips with his. He moved his arm so he could put his hand against the column of her neck.

Their lips weren’t even a millimetre apart now. All it took was for one of them to make the move. They could feel each other’s breath fanning over their face.

And Joe burped. Right in Annie’s face.

“You are disgusting.” Annie’s voice was still raspy, her face contorting after a whiff of garlic slapped her in the face. “Revolting.”

“Well, I mean…” Joe mumbled drunkenly.

“Go easy on the garlic next time, maybe?” Annie turned her head and fanned the air in front of her face. “Jesus.”

Annie’s phone started buzzing on the coffee table, indicating an incoming FaceTime call.

“You would not believe what your disgusting husband just did to me.” Annie said as soon as Ben’s face appeared on the screen.

“He’s still there?” Ben wondered.

“Yeah, we had a few beers and watched some Netflix.” Annie shifted so Joe would be in the frame as well. “Ben, he burped in my face.”

“He… What?”

“He held onto my face and bloody belched right into it!”

“It was an accident!” Joe protested. “It just came out!”

“Why were you holding Annie’s face?” Ben was visibly confused.

“We fell asleep on the sofa and -”

“For fuck’s sake, Annie!” Ben lamented, his nostrils flaring as he got more and more upset. “I know where this is going.”

“Ben, listen to me,” Annie pointed at the screen, “he burped in my face. Almost melted my eyebrows right off.”

“I’ll go check on Rory real quick.” Joe stood up, a little wobbly. “Give you two some privacy.” He rubbed his hands together. “Yeah.”

Ben waited until Joe was out of earshot - or at least he had hoped Joe was out of earshot - before the proverbial gloves came off.

“Are you fucking serious, Annie?” Ben barked at the screen. “Are you actually fucking serious?”

“Ben, calm your bloody tits.” Annie groaned.

“Don’t tell me to calm my bloody tits, Annabelle.” Ben hissed. “We talked about this. I told you this is what scares me the most and then you go and almost snog my best mate!”

“But I didn’t!”

“Because he did the right thing!”

“He was going to kiss me just as much as I was going to kiss him!” Annie fired back, her speech slurred from exhaustion and alcohol. “Fuck!”

“He should’ve puked in your mouth.” Ben retorted, a bit calmer. He knew that had Annie been sober, Joe would have gone home long ago. “And being drunk is a piss poor excuse.”

“Ben, I wasn’t going to -”

“But you were!”

“Will you just listen for one bloody second?!”

“What?!”

“I’m horny, alright?!” Annie cried. “I’m a bitch in heat. It was human contact that wasn’t work-related or baby-generated!” she carried on, “I’m sorry but I’m so bloody horny and I miss you and -”

“Yikes.” Joe’s voice interrupted her.

Annie looked over her shoulder to see Joe standing with his hands in his pockets, his face beet red.

“Ben, I’m so horny.” Annie shrugged Joe’s presence off and carried on. “I’m losing my bloody mind. Everything is a turn on. A gust of bloody wind and -”

“Hello! Hi! Still here!” Joe stopped her.

“Well, fuck off then!” Annie waved her hand in Joe’s general direction. She squinted angrily at the screen. “Why are you laughing!?”

“I’m just -” Ben was shaking with laughter.

He put his phone down so all Annie could see now is a ceiling, and clutched at his side. All Annie could hear was her boyfriend, howling and hollering. Whenever he thought he was finished, another wave of laughter hit him.

“Ben!” Annie called, a childlike pout on her face.

Ben picked up the phone and felt his heart melt. Rory looked so much like her when she made the same face.

“Joe, mate,” Ben dabbed at the corners of his eyes with his finger, still giggling, “do me a solid and fuck my girl back into sanity?”

“While I do agree that this bitch be crazy,” Joe said, very matter-of-fact, “and it is very unfortunate,” he scratched at the corner of his mouth pensively, “nope, no. Nuh-uh. Not if you paid me.”

“You’re just going to pass me around like that?!” Annie gasped.

“I’m just trying to help here!” Ben snorted and chortled again. “Joe?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Go away. I need to take care of my girlfriend.”

“First of all, you two are disgusting.” Joe planted his hands on his hips. “Second of all, I thought you’d never ask and then I’d have to listen to you two weirdos get freaky on FaceTime.”

###

“I’m sorry, what?” Gwilym blinked at the screen and then looked at Joe, standing next to him. “You almost did what?”

“Yeah, mate, he almost snogged my girl.” Ben struggled to keep a straight face.

“Almost?” Gwilym tilted his head and furrowed his brows.

“Yeah.”

“I, uh, burpedinherface.” Joe mumbled.

“Sorry?”

“I burped in her face!” Joe spoke louder. Gwilym and Clara exchanged one look and cracked up, laughing hysterically. “Yeah, yeah, ha, ha, very funny.”

“Granted, I almost had a fit, yeah?” Ben continued the story. “But poor Annie. She kept saying how horny she is. She pouted!” Ben chuckled. “Couldn’t stay mad at her.”

“In her defence,” Clara chimed in, “she is not herself when she is horny and you are an ocean away.”

“That doesn’t make it alright.” Gwilym countered.

“I’m just saying…” Clara shrugged.

“You’re just saying?” Gwilym blinked at his girlfriend in shock. “Well, then, remind me to buy a vibrator for you before I go on press tour.”

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Joe asked and caused the other three to double over in laughter.

Ben didn’t notice his hoodie slid off his head.

“Oh, my God.” Clara covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh, wow.” Gwilym mused.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Joe shrieked.

“Fuck,” Ben hissed and took the hoodie off completely, “it’s for the role, alright?”

“No, it’s not alright!” Joe snapped. “The fuck is this?!”

“It’s called an undercut, Joey,” Clara rolled her eyes, “blimey.”

“Looks good, man!” Gwilym gave the camera a thumbs-up.

“You look like such a douche.” Joe lamented.

“You tried to kiss the mother of my child and I’m the douche?”

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Anyways,” Ben brought everyone’s attention back to the topic at hand, “I’m coming home.”

“You are?!” Joe beamed. “For how long?!”

“Just for a few days while we still have press to do in London. I leave back a couple of days after you go travel the world without me.”

“Here we go again…” Gwilym muttered.

“Oh, Annie must be so excited!” Clara clapped happily.

“See, yeah, she doesn’t know I’m coming.” Ben scratched his chin. “I’m gonna need your help.”

“A surprise?” Clara’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. She’ll like this one.”

“So, what do you need from us, then?” Gwilym asked.

“Right, so here’s the plan.”

###

Another day, another dollar. Well, another quid.

Annie grabbed her bag and took one last look in the mirror before leaving her trailer to pick Frankie up from Doggy Daycare and head home to Rory. She almost dropped Clara flat on her ass when she collided with her outside of her trailer.

“Whoops!” Annie grabbed Clara and steadied her. “Oh my God! Rory!”

“Gwil popped by and brought her with him, thought we’d surprise you.”

“You sure did!” Annie cooed at her daughter. “Hi, baby!”

“Ahem.” Gwilym said monotonously. “I’m here too.”

“Yes, yes, hello, Tree Man.” Annie rushed and tried to take Rory from Clara’s hands.

“No!” Clara turned so Annie won’t have access to Rory. “I, uh…”

“She’s feeling a bit motherly.” Gwilym came for the rescue. “Let her.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

They started walking towards the parking, chatting about how Rory had spent the day with Gwilym until they had just showed up. From the corner of her eye, Annie thought she saw someone lean against the side of her car. After taking a second look, she sprinted towards the cigarette flinging figure.

“Ben!”  

She leapt into his open arms and wrapped her limbs around him, saying his name over and over again, peppering his lips with kisses. She inhaled his scent and relished the warmth radiating from his body. She almost didn’t notice his hair.

“I missed you.” He mumbled against her lips as she reluctantly untangled herself from him, her feet touching the ground. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“Is this real?” Annie’s cheeks were flushed, her head spinning. “Is this really real? Your hair!”

“Do you like it?”

Annie couldn’t form a coherent sentence if she tried. All she could do was smile and nod frantically, grazing her fingernails against the shaved sides, making Ben purr.

“Shall we just leave for dinner without them or…?” Gwilym said loud enough for Ben to hear him.

“We’re coming.”

“Save that for the bedroom, mister.” Clara said pointedly. “The world does not need to know about your climaxes.”

###

“They’ve been at it for hours.” Gwil spoke in a hushed tone. “You’d think they’d need air, or food, or - you know, sustenance. But I guess not.”

Clara, Gwilym and Rory had finished eating, while Ben and Annie’s plates were still full, and now, cold. They couldn’t keep their hands or their lips off each other, public place or not. They couldn’t be bothered.

“Guys, seriously.” Gwilym tried for the umpteenth time. “Your food’s cold, people are staring.”

“Let ‘em.” Ben grunted while Annie nibbled on the crook of his neck.

“Well, we already asked to doggy-bag your dishes because you will get hungry, hopefully.” Clara said. “And it’s getting late.”

“Mhm.” Ben and Annie hummed simultaneously as they kissed.

“Ben, sweetheart,” Clara tried again, “the food isn’t free.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Ben muttered and pawed at his jeans, fishing for his wallet. “There!” he dropped it on the table, “just take however much you need to cover our part.”

“Well, well, Mr. Hollywood.” Clara’s teasing went unheard. Gwilym took money out of Ben’s wallet and handed it back to him. “Okay, you’ll need to stop leeching off each other’s faces long enough to get to the car.”

“Ben, mate, don’t forget to drop us off, yeah?”

“Jesus Christ almighty!” Ben groaned. “Fine! I heard you! We’re going!”

They all filed out of the restaurant, Ben holding Rory in one arm and wrapping the other around Annie, who kept staring at him in pure awe. The drive back was filled with idle chit-chat in low voices, since Rory had fallen asleep in her car-seat. When Ben pulled up to Gwilym’s place, he almost punched him in the face.

“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked as Gwil unfastened Rory’s seatbelt and picked her up. “You’re not taking my baby anywhere.”

“Yeah, I have a feeling you’ll need some alone time?” Gwil carried on.

“Touch my baby and I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” Ben retorted. “Try me.”

“Ben,” Annie leaned over the middle console and placed her hand on Ben’s thigh, edging upwards. “Let him take her. Just for tonight.”

“I’ll bring her back bright and early!” Gwil said already out of the car, Rory’s head resting on his shoulder. “Have fun, you too!”

Ben couldn’t drive home fast enough.

##########

TAGLIST:  @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @qweenly @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @justgivemethekeys  @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @rogerspoison @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy x ofc #gwilym lee #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x ofc #joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfiction #joe mazzello x ofc #joe mazzello fanfic #rami malek #rami malek fanfic #rami malek imagine #rami malek fanfiction #rami malek x ofc #BoRhap #borhap imagine #borhap fanfic #borhap fanfiction #hand in glove

[yeenybeanies]

g/t prompt list

10. toy

hal jordan / green lantern & john constantine / hellblazer

1559 words

language warning. quite a few f-bombs

please keep comments to the tags!! thank you!! 

i wasn’t able to post anything last month because i didn’t have internet access on my laptop, but i do now, so here’s this short lil thing. enjoy!! 

“ Constantine! ” 

God fucking dammit. . .. More than he cares to admit, the voice, now much more booming than he’s used to, does startle John. The subsequent heavy bangs on the door certainly aren’t very pleasant either, each one sending a jolt through his bones and his very being. 

“ What the bloody fuck is he doing here. . .. ”  Jaw clenched tight, John winces under another assault to the door, and another shout from the outside. Noises are bigger right now. Everything is bigger, considering John’s newfound state of existence, standing at a solid three inches tall. 

“ I know you’re in there, Constantine. ” 

How the hell does he–––

“ Zatanna told me how to find this freaky house of yours. Said someone should check on your for whatever reason, so come on. I don’t have all day. ” 

Good. Maybe that means he’ll leave if no one answers. John would rather not be found in his current predicament anyway––least of all by Hal Jordan. Christ, he would never hear the end of it from him, and he’d go blabbing about it to everyone else too. No thank you. 

“ Come in. ”  God dammit, Orchid! Her silky voice rings through the house, almost as if coming from the very walls. From where he is, John peeks around the corner, down the hallway to the now open door, Just beyond the House’s alien-looking avatar stands one very confused man in black and green spandex. That’s definitely a space cop if John ever saw one. The real question is: why is he here? And the next two questions to follow are how did Zatanna know something was up, and why the hell did the House of Mystery let Hal in? 

“ You are looking for John. He is this way. ”  Orchid! John berates the House under his breath, and ducks back into his room just as he sees Orchid turn around and look directly at him. There’s no hiding from her; she is the House, and she seems intent on leading the lantern right to him. Damn her. 

“ Uh, o-kay. . .. Who are you again? ”  Hal’s voice sounds even more obnoxious from so high up. 

“ I am Black Orchid. John is in here, but he seems to be experiencing some difficulties right now. ”  She steps aside and gestures for Hal to enter the room, which he does, despite his growing confusion.  “ He is under the desk. ” 

“ He’s. . . under the desk? ”  Clearly the lantern is lost, but his gaze does fall to the desk. John knows he’s not quite fast enough; his eyes meet Hal’s for a split second before he ducks behind one of the legs. He has little time to mutter any curses to the house or the cop, though, as he quickly finds himself encased in a capsule of green light and lifted. He is helpless against the jostling and the lurching as he’s pulled from his hiding spot and brought out into the open, right before that rubbery mask. Fuck, Jordan’s a lot bigger up close like this. John isn’t one to be intimidated, but, right now, he’s certainly not comfortable. 

At first, Hal doesn’t say anything ( for once in his life ). John can feel him studying him, trying to work out what’s going on. Is it too late to convince him that this is all an illusion? 

“ Oi, if you’re just gonna stare, you can put me the hell down! ”  One tiny fist beats at the wall of light in protest. John isn’t overly fond of heights; being suspended in nothing but focus-powered green stuff over a fairly long drop is not his ideal situation. Nothing about this right now is his ideal situation. 

Perhaps he should have counted his blessings, though. The silent Hal is a rare privilege, and far more preferable to what comes next: the laughing Hal. John covers his ears and ducks his head under that first heavy bark of laughter. Each one to follow too is so damn loud. It feels like John is being shaken apart by sound. One blessing he can still count is that his little containment pod doesn’t shake with the lantern’s movement; the man’s practically convulsing with laughter, while John, despite feeling like his eardrums are going to burst at any moment, is pretty stationary. 

“ Hey! Glad to see you’re having a good laugh there, mate, but I’m kinda busy right now! If you’d kindly shut up and fuck off, that’d be great! ”  If only he could be so lucky, though. The sphere moves, and the movement sends John stumbling back onto his rear, his irritation growing by the second. Brows furrowed, he stares up at Hal through the green film. 

“ Wh––hold on––what the hell happened to you, Constantine? Get caught up with some sort of cricket demon or something? ”  Before John can answer, though, the green around him vanishes, leaving him to fall with a yelp into Hal’s gloved hand below. Oh, no sir, he does not like this. It’s squishy and warm, and the sound of this rubbery uniform scrunching together grates his ears. John scrambles to stand up, a little wobbly in the giant palm. The still-present chuckling isn’t helping much either. 

“ Let’s leave it at  ‘ or something, ’  yeah? Now put me down! I need to figure out how to––– ” 

�� –––I’m sorry, your voice is so squeaky right now. I can’t take you at all seriously like this. ”  Without any warning or consideration, Hal pinches one of John’s legs between his free index and forefinger and pulls him up, dangling him upside down while he flails helplessly. 

“ Mother fu––put me the hell down, you bastard! I’m not a bloody toy, and I’m damn-sure not playing with you right now! ”  It isn’t getting him anywhere, and he knows he can’t break Hal’s grip on his leg, but John continues to kick and wriggle, hoping that the notion will mean more than his actual strength. 

Unfortunately, this is Hal. While he isn’t the worst of the space cops, he’s still not the most agreeable, especially not in cases like this. 

“ So, what? You’re able to fix this, right? Or are you––snrk––are you stuck like this forever? ”  Hal looks so damn smug right now, and endlessly amused. John’s face is red, both from his embarrassment and frustration, and from the blood rushing to his head. 

“ I can fix it. I was in the middle of trying to fix it when you showed up and started acting like a right prick! Quit––– ”  That’s enough. John rubs his hands together and summons a bang of fire. It’s more like a pop at this scale––like a little bang snap––but it does as intended: it startles Hal into letting him go, though he’s quickly caught again after a few inches’ fall. 

“ Woah––easy there. Are you fuckin’ nuts? ”  Those hands close around John now, holding him more securely. It’s not much of an improvement, but at least he’s upright again.  “ Dumb question. I know you’ve got a few screws loose in the noggin’. ” 

“ You’re one to talk. ”  John wriggles and pulls one arm free, then the other.  “ I’ve got this under control, copper. Now, if you’d be so kind as to let me––– ” 

“ Go? Oh, fat chance, sour patch. ”  Hal shifts his hold, transferring John to one hand, fingers curled firmly around his middle. With his other, he pulls out his cellphone, much to John’s horror. 

“ Jordan, I swear to every god and devil and demon out there––if you take any pictures, I am going to make your life hell. ”  

“ You’re not very threatening when you’re normal-sized. How do you think you sound right now? ” 

Like a fucking joke, he imagines. The camera flashes, leaving John blinded for a moment. He swears on his mother’s grave that he will make Hal pay for this once he’s back to normal. Somehow. 

“ Great. Now that you’ve immortalized the moment, why don’t you be a pal and––– ”  

“ Hey, d’ya think whatever the hell shrunk you could do the same to Batman? I’d love to see Spooky all doll-sized. ”  Hal’s grip loosens just a smidge as he lifts John up higher, more near eye-level. John has to force himself not to look down, and try not to focus on the fact that he’s being held by an imbecile. 

Why did it have to be this lantern that came to check on him? Or any lantern at all? Or anyone? What the hell is Zatanna doing sending people to check up on John? 

“ If I were to turn that little monstrosity on anyone, it’d be you, you overgrown prick. ”  This is getting very old very quickly.  “ Alright, Jordan, you’ve had your fun. Let me go. Now. ”  And for a moment, it almost looks like Hal means to comply, but that goofy, shit-eating grin is back on his face just as quickly as it left. 

“ Nah. I’ve gotta show you to the rest of the league. ” 

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #g/t dc #hal jordan #john constantine #hyena writes

[catsundercherryblossoms]

|Ch. 12: Thunderstorms| Her Forgotten Past //Attack on Titan Fanfic//

"What’s happening?" I asked. My voice was surprisingly delicate and high. Not to mention terrified.

We were in a... house? No, a loft. It was dim, poor, and bare with little to no furniture.

Violent threats were being shouted from outside. The door trembled from all the pounds it was receiving.

"Open the door!"

"Daddy, I'm scared!" I said, tears rushing down my cheeks.

A man hurriedly picked me up in his arms. His face was blurry... I couldn't distinguish any features whatsoever. All I could pinpoint was the deep, gravelly voice that issued from him as he held me tight to his chest. We rushed towards the only window in the loft.

"You're going to be okay. I promise. Dadda promises." He said, positioning himself on the edge of the open window. The street below was a landing we could never survive. "Now, hold on tight!"

Crash! The door broke down.

"There he is! Kill him!"

We jumped out the window.

I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the ceiling of my bedroom. My heart thumped like I had received a burst of adrenaline, even though I knew full well that I had been in bed sleeping this whole time.

Did I have that dream again? It must've been the same one as always. There were many similarities. Except, in greater detail.

I rolled over in bed. I hugged the pillow, not really awake but not really asleep either. I kept thinking about the dream.

'Daddy, I'm scared...' I remembered with a pang.

Dad? In the dream, I said that? Was that man my father?

What if this dream... this dream that's haunted my sleep for years... what if it's not a dream at all? What if it's a memory?

This whole time... has my subconscious been showing me my past?

BANG! The door to my room flew open.

"Wake up!"

I was already sitting up, rubbing the tiredness out of my eyes. "What is it? What's going on?"

Petra stood by the door, her face ashen and her eyes frantic. "Come quickly."

I didn't even bother putting on my uniform. All I knew was that something terrible had happened. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. Petra led me down the many corridors of the castle headquarters, going down several staircases until we arrived at the first floor. I kept looking this way and that way, trying to find any disturbance. But there was none. That's when I noticed she was leading me outside to the courtyard. Huh... isn't this where Hanji runs her experiments?

The problem was big. Big enough for anyone to see.

It was Titan-sized.

I joined the accumulating crowd. Through the steam, we all watched as Hanji made a complete meltdown of herself, screaming and crying in front of two Titan carcasses. All that was left were the large bones, and those were disintegrating also.

I spotted Eren and approached him.

"It's too early for this shit." I sighed, rubbing my arms due to the early morning cold. I was still in my pajamas.

A tender look donned Eren's face. He chuckled softly. "Here," he took off his cloak and held it out for me.

I looked at it up and down. Was he serious? "Gee... thanks." I smiled appreciatively. A warm sensation flooded my cheeks, and I hoped to hell that I wasn't blushing. Lately that's all I ever do when he's around.... it's stupid and I didn't understand it, but it had to stop.

I mean... it's not like I....

'Impossible, Johanna', I shook the theory away.

I immediately felt warmer the second I threw on the cloak. Without meaning to, I noticed it smelled... nice. Like boy. But good, clean-smelling boy.

Smells are hard to register, okay?

'I must be out of my fucking mind to be thinking of stupid shit like this... Get a grip!' I berated myself.

"So, what happened here?" I asked, trying to occupy my thoughts with something else.

"Those were her Titan subjects, Sawney and Bean. She talked to me about them endlessly last night. I didn't get a wink of sleep." Eren said, stifling a yawn. He held a troubled gaze as he watched Hanji continue to wail. "But they were like her children... and whoever killed them didn't exactly benefit humanity. Sure, maybe they had a craving for vengeance after what happened in Trost. But now all of Hanji's research has gone down the drain. Not to mention, it'll probably be years until the Survey Corps can replace them. They're not easily captured."

What he said enlightened me. It's certainly not what I expected to hear from him. I looked at the barely-there, steaming carcasses. "Hm... You're right. I guess I never thought of it that way." I then smirked. "She really did a number on you, didn't she?"

He sighed tiredly. "She wouldn't shut up. It's good to see things from her point of view, though. But, fascinating species or not, I still hate these bastards." He glared at nothing in particular.

"Same here." I said softly. Soldiers were now trying to calm Hanji, to no avail.

Who could've done this? Who could've deliberately punched the Survey Corps in the gut like this? Well, whoever the culprit is... it was a dirty move on their part. And I have a feeling an act like this won't go unpunished.

A hand gripped my shoulder and I jumped. It was Commander Erwin, the last person I expected to see. He was leaning between us, and I saw he had his other hand on Eren's shoulder too, creating a huddle.

"Take a look around..." he said lowly. "Who do you think the real enemy is?"

My pupils sharpened at such a staggering question. What the hell did he mean? Erwin Smith, commander of the Survey Corps, the brilliant mind always working to fight the titans, and he was asking us... who the real enemy is?

There was something unsettling about the way he said it. It made me uneasy. But most importantly, it made me question my worldview. It was such a ridiculous and obvious question. But maybe... that's the point.

Could he be implying that after all these years, we were wrong? The Titans aren't the real enemy? If so, then who is?

"My bad. Loaded question." He muttered, and with that, he walked off.

But Eren and I shared equally suspicious looks. We both knew the Commander was being perfectly intentional.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent learning the formation for the 57th expedition. It was a shock to everyone when Erwin announced that it would be very soon. Tomorrow, to be exact. Everyone was nervous, including me. I wasn't necessarily wary for myself, but instead other people. Seeing a couple deaths was a guarantee. There was no such thing as an expedition without casualties.

I needed to mentally prepare myself for the gore. Especially since I was placed in one of the most dangerous flanks. I would be seeing a lot slobbery, glassy-eyed titans. But I believe in my skills, so I should be fine. If worse comes, I'll defend the other soldiers too.

I was on my way to meet Eren at the stables when Hanji approached me out of nowhere.

"Hey!" She said cheerfully.

"Oh, hi. Sorry about your loss." I told her, although she didn't look mournful in the least. Not anymore. But then again, people have different methods of dealing with grief. So who am I to judge?

"Yeah, pretty tough. But I'll always carry their memory right in here..." She patted her chest wistfully, right over her heart. "Ah... I'm gonna miss seeing Sawney's foaming smile every morning as I sip my coffee. But anyways!" She suddenly exclaimed, making me jump. "I'm here because I need something from you."

That can't be good. I narrowed my eyes. "What do you need?"

"A blood sample, of course!" She took a needle and a small vial out of her pocket.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't worry too much about it. It's just for your registration file. I had to take a sample of Eren's blood, too!" She said. "Now, give me your hand."

I hesitated, but figured the quicker I get this over with, the quicker I get to meet Eren to do stable work. I extended my hand and she pricked my index finger with the sharp needle. It barely hurt, surprisingly. She collected a red drop or two inside the vial and hurried off, practically running back inside HQ without saying so much as a goodbye. I shook my head and didn't think much of it.

"Hey," I greeted Eren in the stables. "Thanks for helping me. Just make sure Corporal Levi doesn't find out, or he'll be pissed."

"It's no problem. A whole month of stable work is too much for one person to handle." He said, shoveling manure into a trash bag.

I began replacing the old, weather-beaten hay in the stalls with new fresh loads for the horses to eat. These were the faithful animals that would be taking us on the expedition tomorrow. They needed to be well nurtured. As I worked diligently, I soon became lost in thought. Mainly about the dream- or memory- from this morning. It was still a mystery to me. And I don't like mysteries.

"Hey, Eren... this might seem weird and personal." I said, "but... what do you know about your Dad?"

He tilted his head, puzzled, and shoveled more manure. "You mean, what do I remember? Well, he was always very private. But besides the fact that he hid the secret to saving humanity in our basement, he was a good father. Most of the time he was on the road curing sick patients. He was the best doctor in Shiganshina, after all. But I was always happy when he came home. In those private moments, he wasn't Doctor Jaeger anymore... to me he was just Dad." He wore a sad smile. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. It- It was a dumb question..." I shook my head lightly and focused on the work at hand. I've only ever talked about the dreams with Jean. I don't know if I'm ready to share them with another person.

"It's okay, you can tell me."

"I'm fine, I prom-"

"Johanna." He said pointedly. I could already sense the concern building up inside him, so strong that it made him frustrated when people didn't explain themselves right on the spot. I've seen it happen with Mikasa and I was seeing it happen now with me. It was a unique mix of emotions that only Eren could possess. But I knew it was cause he cared.

I sighed and gave in. "Well, you know I can't remember much of my past. Or anything at all, actually. The first memory I have is from when I was... nine years old, I think? I woke up under a bridge in Trost not knowing who I was or who my parents were, or what the hell I was doing there. I was mindless. The only thing I owned was a blanket with my name on it and the clothes I was wearing at that time. It was a dark period in my life. I was very lonely..." I petted a spotted, caramel horse's mane. "Then Jean found me and he took care of me. If it wasn't for him, I don't know what would've become of me..." my gaze hardened. "But I've always had this dream. It comes to me at random, usually when I'm in a deep sleep. And in the dream... there's this man. And he's promising me that everything will be okay. Then there's shouting and all sorts of noise, and people trying to break into our home- but the point is, Eren... I think that man is my father. And I think this so-called dream is actually a memory."

He seemed genuinely interested. "Do you ever see the man's face? The man you think is your father?"

I smacked my lips, irritated with myself. All the frustration and hopelessness that I've accumulated for years suddenly came back. "No. The memory is always too blurry. Dammit, if I could just remember!" Without thinking, I kicked over an empty bucket.

"Woah, woah! Relax. Hey... it's okay." Eren assured me, gently placing his hands on my shoulders. "Stuff like this has happened before. There have been many cases where people suffer an accident, hit their heads, and wake up with amnesia. Then there's also me... when I Titan shift and lose control I can't really remember- but anyways, we know you're not a Titan. You don't steam up when you get physically hurt." He let out an embarrassed chuckle, but quickly returned to being serious. "What I'm trying to say is... the fact that you're remembering fragments of memory in your sleep is good. That's progress. So don't beat yourself up about it. And if you ever need someone to talk to... I-I know we haven't been friends that long. But I'm always here if you need someone to listen."

Perhaps it was a trick of the shadows, but Eren's irises seemed even more breathtaking than usual. Anyone who's met Eren knows that a wildfire inhabits him, forever burning anything and anyone that comes within sight. But what everyone doesn't know is that whenever he looks at me, that fire seems to cool down significantly. Almost like he doesn't want to burn me.

Like he sees me differently from the rest.

I noticed it the time he hugged me on top of the wall. I noticed it when he caught me in his arms yesterday. And I noticed it this morning when he gave me his cloak.

And now, as we stood face-to-face, completely alone except for the horses, it was happening again.

Perhaps it was just my imagination... but Eren's face appeared to be getting closer to mine with each passing second...

"WOOO! GET SOME, EREN!"

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, Connie." But quickly realized... "Wait, Connie?!"

Apparently, we weren't completely alone. We turned and saw, to my surprise and mild embarrassment, our 104th comrades standing at the entrance to the stables. What were they doing here? I vaguely remember the Commander mentioning that new recruits would be joining today, but never in a million years did I think this many would show up...

Eren and I hurried to greet everyone.

"Reiner!" I gave the tall and buff blonde a hug. Then I hugged Bertholdt. Or more like his stomach. Geez, the man seemed to only be getting taller and taller... "I thought you two were joining the MPs? What happened?"

Reiner took the lead and answered, as usual. "The MPs are overrated. A true soldier does his best to help humanity, right Bert?" He nudged his friend in the ribs.

Bertholdt shrunk a little, rubbing his side as though it hurt more than intended. Once again, Reiner had underestimated his own strength. "Y-Yeah," He sounded rather unsure, "a soldier..."

Its probably just anxiety... this is the Survey Corps, after all. Its not exactly a fun-fest... I thought. "So... Annie left, I suppose?"

Reiner nodded a little sadly. "Yeah... there's no convincing her. She's been a lone-wolf ever since day one. Always doing her own thing."

Of course. I was stupid for thinking she could've had a change of heart. Annie's one and only wish was to join the MPs. I'm not disappointed... or at least, I'm trying not to be. We could still write and send each other letters. But I would definitely miss her. That emotionless bitch... who knew I'd grow so attached to her?

I guess its just Reiner, Bert, and me now.

"Hey, um..." Reiner said lowly. His expression suddenly darkened. "What were you and Eren doing here together?"

I took a quick glance over at Eren, currently talking to Mikasa and Armin. "I got into trouble so I was assigned stable work. Eren was nice enough to help me." I said casually.

He watched Eren intensely. "Really? Funny, it seems he was trying to clean your face more than anything else."

"What do you-"

I felt a tap on my shoulder, interrupting me. I turned to meet the person and almost gasped. "Jean!"

It felt like ages since I last saw him. In reality, that wasn't the case. But still, it felt wonderful to hug him tightly again.

Except something was wrong.

Call it intuition or whatever... but the hug was lacking something. Yes, he was here. But something was troubling him. I just knew it.

I parted- practically pushed him away. I stared at him and waited for him to explain himself. Where was Jean? The overweening, bláse Jean that I knew wasn't the one hugging me back. No... That look he had on his face... was frighteningly mournful.

"What is it? What's wrong?" I was already one step ahead of him. It had to be bad news. Nothing could convince me otherwise.

"Oh, hey Jean." A voice came from behind me. It was Eren, and he was walking up to us. "So you joined too, huh?"

But Jean cut right to the chase. "Marco's dead."

Those two words grabbed everyone's attention. But I had a feeling they all had received the news already, and Eren and I were the only ones shocked at the moment.

Marco... his kind, freckled face popped into my mind, and it was hard to believe none of us would witness his gentle-hearted smile again.

"I'm so sorry, Jean." I said solemnly. "You knew him better than any of us, I can't imagine the pain you-"

"What are you saying? Marco's not dead..." Eren said rather harshly. That's when I saw the denial spreading across his face.

I sighed. "Eren-"

"You're just kidding around. Its just a sick joke, right?"

"I wish I could tell you he died heroically or nobely. But the truth is, we don't know how he went out. Nobody was there to see it." Jean said. "But how about you, Eren? I heard that when you Titan-shifted, you tried to kill Mikasa. Do you mind telling us what that's all about?"

"You're wrong!" Mikasa stepped in. "He was swatting away a fly, nothing ha-"

"I wasn't asking you." Jean said as gently as he could. But clearly, there was a grudge building up inside of him.

Eren lowered his head, disgraced. "Apparently, its true. I tried to kill Mikasa." He admitted.

"Apparently?" Jean said indignantly. "As in, you don't remember? So what you're telling me is you can transform into a fifteen-meter Titan at will, but when you do, you don't actually have full control over it?"

I expected Eren to stand up for himself, but it seemed he planned to take the criticism without argument. "Thats right." He said honestly.

Jean sighed through his nose, the vein in his forehead bulging. He then turned towards everyone else. "You see that, guys? What a fine situation this is. Our lives and the fate of all mankind rests on his shoulders. I'm guessing we'll probably end up like Marco, dead before Eren even knows it."

"Stop it. Whats the point in chastising him now? Just give it a rest." Mikasa piped up again..

Jean eased a little. It appeared he was growing tired of hearing the same old story coming from her. "Listen, Mikasa... Unlike you, the rest of us aren't willing to throw our lives away for him on a whim. We need a reason. The truth. We need to know what we're laying our lives down for. What we want is a guarantee from Eren. Show us what you're worth. Prove it to us. We're asking you to make us believe you're worth dying for." He turned to Eren sharply. For a moment there I could've sworn he was going to throw a punch, but I was pleasantly surprised to see him putting his hands on his shoulders, gripping them firmly. "Do you think you can do that? If you can, then we're with you. All the way."

Ah... there it was again. The courageous fire blazing in Eren's eyes was enough of an answer.

* * *

Later that night

Funny how nature's loud, booming sound can put a person on edge.

Another bolt of lighting struck down, its white light flashing against my bedroom curtains. I turned over in bed, quickly pressing my pillow against one ear, and awaited the thunder.

BOOM!

I trembled a little. I wish I could say it was from cold, but its better to face facts and admit... the weather has got me quite shaken.

It was midnight, and the thunderstorm didn't look like it would be stopping soon. I wondered how anyone else could sleep through this. Especially when it so closely resembled...

'No, don't think that way... thats just your mind playing tricks on you.' I sighed and turned onto my back again, staring up at the ceiling. I clutched the blanket I've had since childhood, the one with my name knitted beautifully in purple. I still sleep with it at night out of habit. But tonight, I doubt I would ever get some sleep.

'I guess it wouldn't hurt to explore...' I thought, knowing full well that this wouldn't help my case at all. There's an expedition tomorrow in which my life and other's might hang on the balance, and yet, I already knew the possibility of sleep was nonexistent. Not in this weather.

I got out of bed and took the blanket with me, leaving my room behind as I stepped out into the dark hallways, going nowhere in particular, simply where my feet would take me. Speaking of feet... I was barefoot. The floorboards were cold and hard against my every step. Strangely enough, the feeling of being barefoot was nostalgic. Which didn't make sense, since I don't know from where or what time. Perhaps it was just another one of those vague deja-vu's buried in the untapped parts of my brain, deep where the memories of my past struggle to surface...

I'm sick of living this way. I feel like I barely know myself. My true self. But I also don't see anything I can do about it. Maybe it'll get easier as I age. That is... if I don't die at the hands of a Titan first.

I stopped in the middle of a staircase heading down, and I looked around. Thunder continued rumbling outside, and lightning flashed against the nearest window. It seemed to be getting louder and more violent. Another crack of thunder echoed throughout the castle and I jumped. Crap... Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should've stayed in bed after all.

Dammit... where am I? I couldn't recognize my surroundings. Wonderful. Thats what I get for being too immersed in my thoughts... now I'm lost. Oh well, when in doubt, keep going down?

I arrived at the first floor, but not any area that I recognized. Was I in the east wing, or the north wing? Or maybe the south wing... I truly had no idea. I wandered the open space, the chilly draft raising goosebumps on my arms, and after what seemed like hours, I finally encountered a door.

About time... I thought exasperatedly. But when I opened it, all I felt was disappointment as a set of spiraling stairs heading downwards was revealed. Ugh, great... more stairs. Just what I needed. I descended two steps, but not before I realized something critical. Wait a minute... does this lead to the basement? Isn't that where Eren sleeps?

Ten minutes later...

I must be crazy. I must out of my damn mind... I thought once I reached the last step, finally standing on flat ground again. The hallway ahead of me was straight and narrow. There were also, to my misfortune, many doors. Maybe he's just as chicken as I am and he can't sleep either... I looked for Eren's room, which was technically a dungeon. This proved to be easier than I originally thought. I came to a stop at an oak-wood door. It had a tiny, medieval look-through window, the perfect size for a pair of eyes to peer through. And inside, I could see the faint glow of candlelight.

I leaned into the door too much. It creaked open and I jumped back. What, no lock?

I debated going in or not. He's the only person I know well enough to talk to. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here in the first place. Besides... this was Eren. Why was I so fidgety?

The floor was even colder now when I entered. I tiptoed around the dark. The candle burning in the corner struggled to keep its flame alive, barely allowing me to see where I was going. Worst comes to worst, I'd ram straight into his bed and fall on top of him. And then... Well, then I would have some serious explaining to do.

I stubbed my toe on something and felt a sharp pain. "FUCK!"

"Wha- Who's there?" Eren's alert voice called out into the darkness.

Seconds of awkwardness, which I'm sure must’ve been full of confusion and fright for him, settled between us as he struggled to light a new candle. When the wick blazed with a bright, newborn flame, the room was still dimly lit. But good enough to see.

Eren was in his bed, disheveled and wearing a set of plain white pajamas. "Johanna?" He said, beyond surprised. He watched as I hopped around on one foot, grimacing. "What are- What time- I have so many questions..."

"Sorry, sorry. I know this is stupid. I didn't mean to wake you," I sighed and shook my head. "Don't get the wrong idea. I never meant to- You know what? I should just go." I turned towards the door, clutching my blanket in my hands tighter than ever now.

"Wait! Are you having trouble sleeping? Is that why you're here?" He asked.

I stopped defeatedly. I'm already in too deep... why lie myself out of this one? I didn't see the point anymore.

"Yeah." I admitted, and turning slowly, I stood at the end of his bed. I kept my eyes focused on everything in the room except him, embarrassed. "The thunder kept me awake. It, um... It sounded too much like titan footsteps. But down here is nicer, I guess. Its not as loud." I finished just as another boom of thunder announced itself. It crackled and echoed, but the sound was slightly muffled now, thanks to the depth of the basement. And yet... it still scared me anyway.

He rubbed his bloodshot eyes sleepily, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "Well, you can always sleep with me, if that'll make you feel be- Wait, no! Sorry let me rephrase that..." He laughed nervously. "You can sleep next to me. There's space here. Anyway, given how small you are, I'm sure this'll be enough room..." He shifted to the side.

Despite that last part, I raised a brow interestedly. "Really?"

"Sure, why not?"

Hesitant, I approached the side of the bed and sat down. Stupidly, I felt as if I were testing rough waters. I carefully laid down and turned onto my side facing him, getting comfortable. He threw the sheets over both of us and laid down.

Another rupture of thunder. I flinched a little.

"Hey, its okay." His voice was smooth as silk. "I'm here."

My head sunk into the pillow and all the tension in my muscles relaxed. Weirdly enough, the thunder didn't seem so scary anymore.

"Hey, Eren?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

* * *

.

.

.

.

"Congratulations. Its a match."

End of chapter 12

#Eren Jaeger #eren yeager #eren x oc #levi ackerman #levi heichou #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #anime #herforgottenpast #aot fanfiction

[catch22inareddress]

Stolen Choices: Chapter Two Tarnished Man

Previously:

"The information that you gave us will be void if they know that we have it. We need time to decipher it and act on it. We also think that if you appear to have Steve as your new bodyguard and perhaps show you two getting... friendly... at a few public events it will send Henry over here to collect you or we can find out where he is staying. We're also putting a tracker on you." You could feel your body closing in on itself and with a cold and distant finality, you stated. "He doesn't love me and you're playing with fire."

Steve spoke up with an indignant attitude. "Well, why get married? You must've loved him at some point or he loved you. So we're banking on those feelings otherwise more innocent lives will be lost. I'm sure you don't want that on your hands, Mrs. Abbott."

You could no longer hold your temper any longer. You were finally making a decision for yourself and it just went to hell in a handbasket. "Listen here, Captain America. Save your self-righteous commentary for the public and your fanbase. Not everyone gets the white picket fence and the happy ever after. Some of us get sold off at auction to the highest bidder. The only way Henry comes back is to get his property not his love. This is not some romantic fairytale that I've had the luxury of living. So shut the fuck up unless you have something useful to say."

Steve was dumbstruck and humiliated as the thought never occurred to him that you married with no choice. He just assumed that you loved a deplorable man and willingly went to bed with HYDRA. Literally, and now this was your way out. His mouth was agape and while you were ashamed at your outburst you felt it was a long time coming and it felt good. Very good. Perhaps too good and you should let that lion out of the cage more often.

"Look, I'll do it. If it will give you time to take down HYDRA and Henry but is there anyone else besides him." Steve's brows hitched together in what you found to be a usual look for him and he put his hands in his pockets knowing how he acted; you had every right to ask for someone else. He also knew that the request would be declined.

Fury shook his head. "No, Bucky is too high profile with HYDRA. Sam and Clint are great but not if you're attacked by multiples, they aren't superhuman. Plus Steve's already comin' off an undercover op so he'll be more incognito to the public eye." Then he turned to Steve. "Make it work, Rogers." And with that, they left the room.

"I-I just have to get my bag then we can go to your place." You waved him off and as soon as he left you finally let the tears fall as you looked out on the New York Skyline.

So much for new beginnings

Nat sat in Steve's room when he gathered his belongings and was ready to give him an ear full. "Really, Rogers? You're an asshat of epic proportions." He nodded and mumbled in agreement. Just then Bucky came into the room to assist Nat in berating a one Steven Grant Rogers off his high and mighty horse. Steve rolled his eyes at the intrusion knowing they were about to tag team him.

"Look I made a mistake and didn't have my facts." Buck leaned against the door frame and brushed his long chocolate locks out of his face. "One look at her would've told you she wasn't there by her own choice. You just heard HYRDA and wife then went all ballistic, man. To be honest I would switch spots with you in a heartbeat. Something about her just makes me want to keep her safe." Nat chimed in. "She's a victim and from what I gathered from Tony she's pretty much been in captive by family or that fucker her entire life. So what if she thought this was her way out. If I were her I would've taken it to. Wouldn't you, Cap?" They turned to leave and he grabbed the first thing that he could find and threw it against the wall.

"FUCK!" When did he lose composure like this and when did he make an innocent feel helpless and unsafe. He felt powerless and hated that feeling when things spiraled out of his control. His gripped the marble countertop and looked up at his reflection, he felt like he had lost his way through all of the years. He was tired of the wars and the fighting, of always seeing things in black and white, especially when he saw that you were clearly a color spectrum that he had never quite seen before. That's what had him so off balance and for lack of better phrasing, tarnished. He needed to get his shit together and fast. Hell or high water he was going to keep her safe, no matter the cost. If this was his final mission he was going to redeem himself and make it right.

You arrived at the penthouse and Steve did a perimeter check and Tony snuck in to add some additional security measures. The thing about Henry was that he was so arrogant he thought the penthouse was impenetrable with the small security system and the bodyguards. He also probably forgot that he even had the HYRDA intel here, so careless of him. Typical.

"How do you communicate with Henry, Mrs. Abbot?" You walked into the office and logged into a secure server. "Please, Y/N. Not Mrs. Abbott." While your composure was there, Steve could see the quiver in your voice. "I email him weekly unless other instances require like this evening. I will notify him of John and William's leave and that I have taken and hired you, Steven Grant for my protection detail. I have forwarded your credentials to him and he will assuredly want to video chat with you tomorrow regarding safety measures and when he will check in, etc." You quickly finished a formal email to your "husband" which Steve read and then sent it. Showing him to his quarters after reviewing all of the codes and locks, courtesy of Stark, you turned to leave.

"Goodnight Mr. Rogers." He grabbed your arm lightly but you still gasped at the contact, expecting pain and he quickly released you. "I---I'm sorry. Earlier. I'm ol' fashioned and that's not an excuse but hopefully will explain why I assumed you two were in love. It was a terrible mistake on my part and I won't assume in the future and will instead ask you if that's ok." Your hand found the place the Steve touched on your arm and you nodded.

"Be careful what you ask, you may not care for the answers you are given." With that, you took leave to your bedroom to hide away from the results of the day. If you were lucky, the ruse that you emailed Henry on courtesy of SHIELD and the set up with Steve would work and hold him off for the time being. At best you would have a few weeks before he sent someone in, especially when they wanted you and Steve to be out in the public to draw Henry in. This was an absolute catastrophe but at the same time you knew that you had made the right choice, the outcome wasn't ideal but nonetheless. You would persevere like always.

You awoke to Steve knocking on your door and you opened it in your silk cami and shorts not thinking anything of it. "Is the building on fire?" He averted his eyes but smirked. "No, but we have an email." He could've sworn he heard you say "Then it's worse." But chose not to respond as you grabbed your robe and walked to the office and signed in.

"So as I said, you have a video chat with him in 1 hour and he will want updates every week unless the situation demands it." You handed him the list of demands for previous bodyguards and your weekly agenda which of course changes. His brows stitched together. "Y/N, these are ridiculous." You nodded. "So you see why he will be very upset when you and I are at all of these social events seemingly so close." He shook his head as he quickly memorized the requirements set by Henry.

The weekly agendas ranged from brunch with socialites and wives of HYRDA's henchmen, now that you know the true nature of Henry's work. You normally have a gala or charity event a week to attend in his absence. So Steve didn't have any idea what he had signed up for when he was given protection detail to you and you were sure by now his star-spangled head was spinning.

You stood outside and listened while Steve took every condescending remark and insistence made by your husband and passed the interview of sorts with flying colors. As he called your name you smoothed your dress out, calmed your nerves and then walked inside. Steve left the room as asked but remained close so he could hear everything. Which only added to your discomfort and embarrassment.

"Henry, how are you?" You timidly ask as this is the first video chat in two months. "How dare you go under my authority and hire him! You insolent whore! I give you everything and yet you displease me in such a way."

 You sat with your hands in your lap resigned to the verbal abuse because you knew it was coming, ever grateful that he was oceans away though. "I'm terribly sorry, Henry. I just know that business is very busy for you and thought I could be of assistance." He laughed at your attempt to appease him. "That's fucking rich. You don't know anything." You apologized again. "I'm sorry Henry if I have done anything to upset you." He waved you off. "He's fine for now. I won't hire another since there hasn't been a threat in New York since I left. No one would care to harm you anyway. I have to go now for a... meeting. Be a good wife and follow orders. No more surprises." He signed off and you sat there in silence unable to get up yet and unwilling to face Steve either. You could tell that while the first encounter was terrible, he was a good man. You've seen enough atrocities in this life to know good when you see it and you didn't want his pity.

It wasn't until you felt a strong hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of your haze and looked up to ice blue forgiving eyes. You didn't want nor need his compassion, it made you feel weak so you stood up and wiped your cheeks discretely. "I assume you have something to wear other than flannel, Captain Rogers?" His saw that you closed off the wall and stood taller and nodded. "Good because to make a man like Henry jealous enough to risk coming here you'll need to up your game." He smirked at your remark. "Understood, Ma'am."

After your shitty remark on his attire, he had some clothes delivered to the penthouse and decided that it be best to practice on how you two would keep up appearances while outside and in view of the world.

"So, there will be events that will allow me to dance with you. I'm sure a man of your age can dance." He lightly chuckled. "That's a ...nice way of calling me old." You nearly smiled at his easy way but held back. At the moment both of you were sitting on the couch and had just begun to break down how to handle situations together. "If someone asks how we met..or how long..?” He nodded. "Just smile like it's the naughtiest secret and don’t say a word." You agreed and fiddled with your fingers and he reached over with his large calloused ones. "Hey, this will work. We will distract him. Use the intel, catch him and get you out of here." He gave you a reassuring smile while he ducked his head a bit to meet your eyes and you gave him a smile. "There she is. Smile at me like that when we are out and everyone will believe that we are together."

He kept his hand there and you went to remove yours. "You need to get used to me touching you." you shook your head. "I-I don't like being touched." His face did that notorious pinch and you wanted to smooth out the lines but immediately reproached yourself for thinking such a thing. Steve paused but decided to ask anyways against his better decision.

"Why?" He knew that you had warned him and that he wouldn't like the answer but still, he had to know. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and looked into his eyes. "When you associate touch with pain why would you like it?" His thoughts immediately went to Bucky and the trouble that he had when he first came back and it hurt him to his core to think of you not having the pleasure of touch. "When Bucky first came back from captivity and was no longer The Winter Soldier he had similar issues. Although different, still hated to be touched. Associated it with pain." You shook your head. "Don't compare me to him. He deserves more than that!" Steve moved closer to you and gently took your face in his palm and you flinched.

"Listen, doll. All I'm sayin' is if he can recover so can you. The man loves to have Nat touch him now, he what we call touch starved. He can't go 5 minutes without touchin' someone." Steve chuckled a bit and you felt his hot breath on your face and you didn't cringe at his warm embrace on your face and his breath on your skin or his eyes scrutinizing every flaw on your face. "See even right now, you're fine with me." He kept looking in your eyes searching for an answer that you knew silently he was asking. "Because I feel safe." You saw his jaw tick and his thumb gently grazed your skin. "You are, I'll keep you safe."

He sat back against the couch and pulled you into his side and you laughed and he thought it was the sweetest damn sound that he had heard. "You should do that more often." You looked up at him. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try." He nodded. "I'll take it. So now that we got the touch under control---" You cut him off. "I've got it under control when we are alone. I've never done this in front of anyone. Hell ..." You ran your hands over your face while Steve patiently waited for you to continue. You were finding that the man was a fucking saint one minute but then another be a man of this world and baffle you.

"Ok, so consider me property and as property, I am to maintain appearances and looks. I was..am Henry's wife for all purposes of appearances. When we go out it is to make him look good. I was bred to be the perfect specimen of flattery, to make him look good. When I say he bought me I mean just that. I came from a line of wealthy families but my uncle squandered away the money and inheritance. He used me to make millions."  You were ashamed and felt cheap at the words as soon as they left your mouth; Steve seemingly took ages to process the information, while you sat watching him digest what you had said.

When he finally did speak you were surprised with what he asked and the level of intimacy in which he asked it. He didn't make you feel like less of a person or like a bought and paid for human, he was concerned more for the lack of experiences that you had. The absence of love in your life was what he had focused on and you didn't know what to say or how to answer and remain diplomatic to the situation so you were blunt in your response. 

"Ok, so you've never experienced a man holding your hand, kissing you, making love to you. Romance?" You laughed humorlessly. "No. I've had my handheld to show possession or to be pulled. I've been kissed on my wedding date or roughly to satisfy his needs. Making love ...I've been fucked, poorly by Henry and no other." He nodded and roughly stood up and you sat back feeling the need to comfort him. Odd. "I'm fine, Steve, I don't need pity and I don't say these things to anger you. I just want ...need you to know that I don't know how to complete this facade and make it look believable."

He turned around and knelt down before you with conviction in his blue eyes. "Let me kiss you." You pulled your face back as if he slapped you and he looked ...hurt? Why would he ask you for such a thing? This was what made your head spin about the Captain. One minute he would treat you like a doll, so kind and gentle. The next he would speak like he had no control over his mouth or thought process. Had he not heard how you were acquired and did he not think of how you would feel of his request? To just be kissed for a mission? You felt dirty at his words when only moments before you thought he was a different man...you were comforted with his touch only to feel burned. 

"Absolutely not! Are you out of your mind, Captain!" He put his hands on your thighs and the warmth radiated through the fabric and you felt as though you were on fire, but this time it felt good and you chastised yourself. You wanted the kiss but..at what cost. Damn him and damn all of this. He spoke up and pleaded with you. "Please, let me kiss you. I want to do this and maybe it will help you..."

You pushed him away and he almost fell back but righted himself. "Help me what? Loosen up? Is that what you think of me? That I'm uptight? Well, excuse me Captain Loose Lips. I don't want my first real kiss to be a show. I- I thought that we were--. Nevermind." You went to walk away and he was furiously running his hands through his hair and coming after you. Under normal circumstances, you would feel threatened but with him, you didn't. You felt ...desire. You wanted him but he only wanted you for this mission and that hurt.

"Look, doll. I'm sorry. I just- you deserve better than him." You nodded in agreement and finally found your voice. "You’re damn right I do! I also deserve better than you trying to kiss me for this damn charade too. Have the decency to kiss a woman because you desire her and want to feel her against you. Not because you want to make the ruse believable." You could've sworn you saw his eyes glass over but you couldn't tell because yours were swelling up. You turned on your heel before he could see what he was doing to you and went to your bedroom. "Goodnight, Steve."

Steve ran his hands over his bearded face in defeat as he crashed down on the couch beneath him. “I do fucking desire you. That’s the problem.” He was thankful that you were out of earshot but that the same time cursed himself for not speaking up and for being the coward he has always been around women. 

He was falling for a woman he couldn’t have and would never choose him. 

HOPE THAT EVERYONE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER. FEEL FREE TO COMMENT OR SEND ME A REQUEST FOR A TAG OR ADD YOURSELF HERE: LINK. (STRIKETHROUGH BELOW DIDN’T WORK, SORRY)

I’m super excited about this series and Cap and his fumbling and fuck ups but how he takes care of the reader. Plus I have a new character to introduce in  Chapter four which is not in the Marvel Uni but is hella delicious. TEEHEEE. 

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#chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans reader #chris evans reader eventual smut #captain america eventual smut #captain america #captain america reader #captain america x reader #captainamericaxreader #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #avengers #miniseries #Fluff #angst #reader #eventual smut #romance #protective steve rogers #protective tony stark #stolen choices

[trans-shuichisaihara]

the first chapter of “Empathy without Sympathy”, aka the linked emotions oumota au! bonus points if you can tell who’s linked w/ each other aside from the obvious lmao (also it’s a bit longer than the stuff I normally post so I went ahead and linked it below)

read on AO3

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

He woke up with a deep unease brewing in the back of his mind. The type that tore across his entire body, constricting his muscles and leaving him shaky and nauseous. Kaito groaned, curling in on himself. That action was quickly reversed as the smell of blood hit his nose; a dark patch sat in the corner of his pillow where he’d spent parts of the night coughing into.

What a crappy way to start the morning.

Mentally berating himself for his weakness, he forced himself up, dragging his tired body to the bathroom to clean up. Fuck, why was he so fucking tense? He scowled at his reflection in the mirror, splashing water onto his face to resist the pull of negativity (and to clean the bits of blood off, but he didn’t want to think about that). Deep breathes, don’t cough, inhale, exhale. Everything was fine.

It calmed down, only to rise again with the morning announcement. He grit his teeth, trying to push down the sudden fear rising in his body. Dammit. He wasn’t scared of those stupid fucking bears. Thankfully this attack passed almost as soon as it came, though leaving him tired nonetheless. He felt a swell of empathy for Shuichi; it was clear from how he quivered like a leaf that he suffered from some sorta chronic anxiety issues, and dealing with this on a regular basis? Fuck, that had to be hell.

Though, the situation they were in was probably an even worse hell. He sighed, tossing his jacket on and leaving for breakfast, greeting a downtrodden Shuichi after a few minutes of lingering around. That wasn't surprising; the murders of Angie and Chabashira and the trial that had followed the day before had been rough on the entire group.

He herded his sidekick towards the cafeteria, pushing any distracting thoughts to the side. It’d be bad if he made the others worry; weakness from him would lead to fear in the group. He was the leader figure after all, so he had to keep everyone together to avoid another murder.

Of course, Ouma had to make that difficult. Even without the dark mood lingering over the hall, him opening his lying mouth was always a pain. At least he wasn’t moping like the rest of the group, though Kaito couldn’t say if that was from a lack of concern or what.

On a positive note, Yumeno was attempting to stand strong. If he didn’t have his hands full with Shuichi and Harumaki and his coughing, maybe he’d invite her to train with them. She could use someone to guide her along, even if Chabashira had given her a big push forward with her final words.

As he was finishing off his miso soup and attempting to nudge Shuichi into eating more of his eggs, Gonta finally lumbered in, worry written clear as day on his face. As he explained the addition to the writing in the courtyard, Kaito felt bad that he was finding himself bored with the turn of events. Was his training regiment just not enough to keep his ambitious mind focused? Maybe they were missing something, something that could snap his mind back into gear. He was Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars; he wouldn’t allow himself to become disheartened.

Just as he was jerking himself back into reality, Monokuma decided it was time to make his post-trial appearance. Stupid fucker and his stupid kubs, acting as if getting to access new areas was worth the lives of their friends. Disgust swelled in him at the very sight. It didn’t help that Ouma was acting all buddy-buddy with them.

Monophanie held up a stone and a paintbrush to the group, eagerly declaring them to be the latest keys before turning to her brother. “Come on, Monotaro; give them the third item.”

He tilted his head. “Huh? What item? I don’t have nothing!”

She gasped. “You lost it?! That was the motive!” She hit him upside the head with the frying pan again. Guh, he was tired of this stupid comedy routine.

“Oh, a motive?” Ouma sounded interested. “How disappointing, the game won’t be exciting without a motive.” He grinned. “But maybe that means I won’t get murdered after all!”

“Can you shut the hell up,” Kaito grumbled, though he had to admit he was relieved. He glanced towards the others; Shuichi looked deep in thought, eyebrows knitted as he looked to the silent Monokuma.

Who wasn’t silent for much longer, as he chuckled. “Oh, that old thing? I think it was dropped somewhere, but whatever! I got a better idea for a motive, so I enacted it right away! In fact...” His red eye flashed. “... some of you might be feeling it right now.”

Feeling? Kaito was no Ultimate Detective, but it didn’t take one to hear the implication that something had been done to their bodies. Was... Was whatever was making him cough the next motive? Were the rest of them sick too? A deep dread broke through his repressed emotions.

“What do you mean?” Harumaki asked, fixing the bear with a glare. They received no answer to her question, however, as Monokuma simply laughed at them and made his exit. The kubs hung around, though Monophanie was quick to follow her father’s lead, leaving her brother to the wolves. Not that he would be useful, with his convenient amnesia.

“Jeez, just forget about the stupid motive.” He scratched the back of his head, trying to appear nonchalant. “Let’s just go check out the new areas or whatever.”

“Hm, no, I don’t think so,” Ouma had to object, “I think I’m gonna go look for that third motive item; that sounds much more exciting!” Exciting? More like worrying; last time Ouma messed around with the motives, Hoshi learned that Harumaki had his motive video and watched it, leading to him choosing to give up his life to Toujou.

“I said,” Kaito repeated louder, “Forget about it.”

“Gee, who died and made you leader,” Ouma replied with a grin, dampening the mood further from the verbal attack. He clenched his fists, trying to hold himself back as a wave of anger followed the sadness.

“What's your fucking problem?!”

Ouma smirked, pulling his hands behind his head. “What’s your problem, Momota-chan? Are you that scared of what little ol’ me will do with Monokuma’s motive?” His expression quickly changed, big blobs of wetness filling the corners of his eyes. “I, I thought you trusted meeee!” He sobbed in his obviously fake way.

“Who’d trust a liar like you?”

The room was quiet as Ouma’s face returned to a more neutral expression. “Oh, well, I guess you’re right. That was a lie anyway.” Kaito bit down on his tongue as a stabbing pain hit his chest. “I’ll be going now; have fun with exploring!”

“Wait-!” Before he could stop him, Ouma ran out. Instinct forced him to run after, ignoring the others shouts.

It was probably a poor decision, he realized after a few minutes of “playing tag”. Just attempting to keep the other in view forced his body to its limit far too quickly. Frustration flooded him as he pushed himself harder, Ouma’s mocking jibes echoing back at him. This continued until he lost him somewhere on the 3rd floor, his chest throbbing in protest. He slumped onto one of the benches near Harumaki’s lab, glaring at his clenched fists and trying to hold down the cough threatening to rise. Why did he have to be like this? So... So weak.

... Now wasn't the time to sit around feeling sorry for himself. With a grunt, he pulled himself up, wandering up to the 4th floor. The place was still creepy as hell. He didn't linger long, especially when he discovered stairs leading up to the 5th floor. Shuichi must've unlocked it. His sidekick was becoming more reliable, thanks to his training of course.

And speaking of Shuichi, it didn’t take long to find him, along with Harumaki. The two of them were on the far side of the 5th floor, inside what appeared to be the Ultimate Detective’s lab. With the door left cracked open, he was able to catch bits of their conversation as he approached them.

“... only useful after it’s too late.” Shuichi hung his shoulders, eyes trailing along the floor in defeat.

Harumaki crossed her arms. “Why are you so gloomy all of a sudden? Do you want to die?”

He flinched. “You’d kill me just for that?!” Kaito snorted in amusement, before deciding it was as good of time as any to make his entry. After all, what kind of leader would he be if he didn’t step in to inspire him?

Once the ‘Shuichi pep talk’ session was concluded and he wandered off to go use the second item, Harumaki sighed. “He’s high maintenance. Not that he’s the only one; are you going to go look for Ouma again?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Prolly not. If he doesn’t want to be found, looking for him’ll just be a waste of time. I bet he’ll come running back when we find the Flashback Light.” He grinned. “So let’s get looking, Harumaki!”

She huffed. “Both him and you are a pain. Stop calling me that.”

They scoured the 5th floor, checking every nook and cranny on a level of thoroughness that would impress Shuichi. After some time searching in silence, Kaito got the feeling that Harumaki wanted to say something and turned to her expectantly. She stared back, before sighing again.

“So, what do you think the motive is?”

A paralyzing terror nipped at his nerves. “Uh, I, I dunno. Something to do with our bodies..?”

She glanced away. “I do feel a bit strange. Not sick or anything, but...” She hesitated. “Oddly excited? There’s nothing exciting me though.” She trailed off, running her fingers through one of her twintails.

“Huh, weird. Maybe it’s-” His eye caught on a distinct shape. “Oh, the Flashback Light!” He approached the pillar, finding it hanging on a nail far above the others reach. For him or Gonta, however, it would be easily obtained. “Great, let’s gather the others!”

Harumaki stayed silent for a long second. “Alright, fine.” Ah, was she upset with the sudden topic change? He’d have to make it up to her later.

The Flashback Light was horrifying.

Fire raining from the sky. Panicked screams, pushing, shoving, sobbing. The memories of dark times etched itself into his mind, into all their minds. He curled his hand into a fist on the table, using it to steady himself. The others were equally as unstable; Iruma shook until she fell into a chair, bringing her knees to her chest to assume the fetal position. Shuichi stood stock still, eyes wide with terror. Gonta started crying on the spot.

He had to take control of the situation. He knew that, yet his body would barely move. His chest felt like it was in a vice, terror constricting to the point he could barely breathe. His eyes languidly moved across the scared faces of his friends, until they met Ouma’s. Stone-faced, unreactive towards the chaos around him. Mask firmly in place. His lips split, corners turning up into a false smile.

An abyss opened up in Kaito’s chest, swallowing all the feelings the Flashback Light brought down into it until he was left with nothing but apathy. No, not apathy - Emptiness would be the better word. He felt numbingly empty, a dull ache leaving his body tingling.

“Fuck! I’m so fucking tired of this!” Iruma wailed, pulling his attention away. With her terror-filled shouts, the watergates opened, prompting conversation among the group about what they saw. The meteorites. The cult. The Gofer Project. It all sounded so surreal, but...

“It wouldn’t be so strange if something beyond common sense happened, would it?” Ouma pointed out, “I mean, with Monokuma and the Exisals, is anything really too far out there?” His conceited smirk both pissed him off and confused him.

“What are you getting at?”

“Hm? I’m not getting at anything,” he lied. Kaito scowled as he felt his interest in whatever Ouma was keeping to himself rise.

“Buncha BS,” he muttered in response, shaking his head. He couldn’t waste time indulging Ouma’s lies. “Anyway, don’t worry guys, I’m sure everything’s gonna turn out okay. We’ll find a way to escape this fucked up Killing Game and see with our own two eyes that everything’s fine!”

He clenched his fists, anger pumping in his veins. Out of the corner of his eye, Ouma slipped out of the cafeteria. Whatever. He could deal with him later.

“While I agree,” Kiibo hesitantly begun, “I think... I think I would like some time to myself to think about this. All this new information is, well, quite fatiguing to take in.”

Shit, yeah, the others did look pretty tired. He sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Guess you’re right. But don’t forget what I said, alright!” He might as well been talking to a brick wall as the others shuffled out, Iruma quivering and mumbling to herself while Yumeno dragged her feet, head hung. Shuichi went out the interior door back into the school by himself while Shirogane ducked into the kitchen.

“Um, Momota-kun,” Gonta spoke up as Harukawa was leaving, “If there is anything Gonta can do to help, just let Gonta know.” He pulled his glasses off, dragging his sleeve across his tear-streaked snotty face. “Gonta wanna be helpful to everyone, so he took manhole cover back off.”

He gave him a smile and pat on the back. “Hey, no need to cry man, you’re doin’ fine. I don’t think we’ll be challenging the underground passage again though.”

Gonta slumped. “O-Oh. Gonta think more of how he can help then.” He turned to leave as well, prompting Kaito to shout encouragements into his back. Damn, what a mess. His chest was burning after all that stress.

Guess it was time for a bathroom break.

#oumota #kokichi ouma #kaito momota #drv3 #drv3 spoilers #my post #fanfic #au #linked au

[bubble-tea-bunny]

my type

[billy hargrove x reader]

author’s note: titled this after the song by saint motel cuz i wrote this while listening to that and then i remembered the whole “nancy’s not my type” line and that is purely coincidence i promise lol

word count: 2,098

part two: x

“Steve Harrington, you’re with Billy Hargrove.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. When Steve hears this, he practically deflates where he sits at his desk. He’d been crossing his fingers for someone actually competent that could pull their own weight on this project. And if he couldn’t have that, he was willing to settle for someone a little dumber, if he had to, since the teacher did have a penchant for pairing A students with… not so A students, in an effort to boost the latter’s grade (hardly fair, if Steve has anything to say about it). Anyone but Billy Hargrove, really, Steve would’ve settled for.

With a heavy sigh he glances back, where one row behind him and one column to the left sits Billy, lounging back with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face Steve wants nothing more than to punch. He turns back around when they’re handed instructions for the project, and he lays his head on his propped up hand dejectedly, picking at the corner of the piece of paper.

“Hey, partner.” Billy plops down in the seat in front of Steve when the class is allowed to reshuffle so that they’re sitting with their teammate. Steve doesn’t even try to look amused, and Billy hones in on it right away. “What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

Steve looks up in search of the teacher, who’s at the front of the classroom helping a different group, before returning his attention to Billy. “You,” he all but hisses out. “You’re my problem.”

Billy scoffs, putting a hand on his chest in mock offense as he plays dumb. “Me? And why’s that?”

For a moment, Steve wonders if he should try to list off at least a few reasons (because there are plenty and it would take a while to get through them all) but decides he’d just be wasting his breath. Billy knows exactly why. So he ignores the question. “Just don’t fuck this up for me.”

“Hey, this is my grade too. I won’t.”

If it were any other person, Steve might’ve believed it.

By the end of class, they’ve agreed to meet at Steve’s house to work on the project. Hopefully if they work diligently, they could finish in one day. Billy gives Steve a none-too-gentle pat on the back before they go their separate ways down the hall and Steve gives him a tight-lipped smile, which promptly disappears as he walks to his locker. He thinks to himself that one day is one day too many to be seeing Billy over spring break. He heaves a sigh as he opens his locker. This is bullshit.

———  

Spring break brings you back to your hometown of Hawkins, Indiana. Everything looks the same, something you note with a small smile on your face as you drive down the familiar roads with their potholes you’ve memorized the placement of. You got familiar with them after winding around them on your bike so many years ago. You have the windows down because the weather is so nice, and when you start getting to the residential areas, it’s much quieter.

When you arrive at your house, you see everyone’s cars on the driveway, which means they’re all home. You don’t even have to ring the doorbell: your mom had seen you while you were getting your bags out of the trunk and came out to greet you. Behind her trails your dad, and then finally your younger brother. Your eyes light up when you see him. He’s practically your best friend, something that hasn’t changed even if you’re miles away from home. You missed him a lot.

“Get over here, you little dweeb!”

You engulf Steve in a bear hug and he laughs, returning it just as enthusiastically. It doesn’t quite make sense to call him “little,” not anymore at least. He’s taller than you are, and has been since he grew like a bean sprout his freshman year of high school. But it doesn’t matter. He’d always be little to you.

The two of you spend the rest of the day catching up, Steve being the one to drive you both downtown for a bite to eat since you’d already been driving for hours to get here. The last time you’d been in Hawkins was during Christmas, and that had been months ago. You called on occasion, but school kept you busy. Steve mentions the project he has to work on over the break, to which you stick your tongue out in playful disgust. Long gone are your days of having homework over breaks. When your brother continues on to mention he doesn’t like his partner at all, you tilt your head in curiosity.

“I thought you got along with everybody,” you comment before taking a sip of your milkshake.

Steve shrugs. “Billy’s… well, he’s a dick.”

“Really?” Steve never speaks so aggressively about anyone, so when he does this time, you know it’s serious. “That bad, huh?”

“That bad.” He sighs. “He’s coming over to work on the project tomorrow. I just wanna get it done quickly and then I won’t have to see him again until next week.”

You smile sympathetically. ”I still think it’s so funny your teacher assigned you two together. It’s like he knew.”

“I swear he knows. I don’t think there’s anyone else I dislike this much.” This earns a laugh from you before you pop another French fry into your mouth. You change the subject then, to take his mind off of the project and this Billy Hargrove.

———

It’s only you and Steve in the house the next day, given that it’s still a normal work-day for your parents. You’re in the kitchen assessing your succulents which rest on the window sill while Steve brings his backpack downstairs into the living room, where he spreads out the materials he’ll need on the coffee table.

“You’ve been watering my plants, right?” You speak up so he can hear you from the other room.

“Yeah, once a week, just like you said,” Steve responds, pausing briefly at the base of the stairs to address you.

“No, once every two weeks! You might overwater them!” You’re not even sure if he heard you because he’s started walking upstairs. You’d bought the plants from the gardening store in town over Christmas break, choosing cacti specifically so you wouldn’t have to water them often. You’re forgetful, and many a flower has died under your care.

“Sorry!” Steve yells, but it’s muffled because he’s on the second floor. “Every two weeks, got it!”

You roll your eyes but there’s a hint of a smile on your face. At least he hadn’t killed the plants in the time you’ve been gone.

Billy speeds down the road, and once he arrives at the Harrington household, he parks on the curb, screeching to a halt. As he gets out, he spots you in the window, preoccupied with plants resting on the sill. He’d never seen you at school. Were you from around here? Hawkins is a small town yet he doesn’t even recall seeing you while out and about. He’s pretty sure he’d remember if he saw you. Well, he supposes there’s no better time to find out than right now.

The doorbell rings and you’re the one to answer, since you can get to it first. When you open the door, you’re met with someone’s chest, and you have to look up to see who it is. The boy before you smiles. It’s sweet and it reaches his eyes. He tucks his hands into his jacket pockets.

“You must be Billy,” you start, smiling politely. You remember what Steve mentioned yesterday so you’re not overtly friendly, the way you usually are with Steve’s friends.

“I am.” Billy nods. “And you are…”

“[Name].”

“[Name],” he repeats, testing it on his tongue. “Cute name for a cute girl.” You laugh lightly at the compliment, pink dusting your cheeks, and his smile grows. “You Steve’s girlfriend?”

You shake your head, trying to keep your face from scrunching up at the mere suggestion. “No, I’m his sister, actually.”

“He didn’t tell me he had a sister.” Billy takes one of his hands out of his pockets and sets it on the doorframe, allowing him to lean a bit and adopt a more relaxed posture. Now that he thinks about it, you do look a fair bit like Steve. It’s the sort of resemblance that isn’t immediately noticeable, but once it’s revealed the two of you are siblings, it becomes more obvious.

His eyes rake over your form and you feel shy, but you don’t really know why because he’s younger than you are and usually advances from anyone Steve’s age you can brush off easily. But not this time. When his gaze flickers back up to your face, his toothy smile turns into more of an easy smirk which rests on his lips like it lives there. The heat of his stare is nearly enough to set you on fire. “Wish he didn’t keep you hidden,” he remarks. You don’t fail to catch the way his eyes drop down to look at your lips before they slide back up to meet your own again.

“He isn’t. I’ve just been away. At college.” This is your chance to shut him down. For a second the question flitters through your head—Is that really what you want?—but you push it away.

“College, huh? I don’t know many college girls.”

“What makes you think you’ll get to know me?”

“Do you not want me to know you?” Billy raises a brow.

“I’m too old for you.” You cross your arms.

At this, Billy laughs, genuinely amused. It takes you off guard and you furrow your eyebrows. He leans closer so he can lower his voice. “Believe me, sweetheart. You’re not.”

The two of you watch each other in silence, Billy almost daring you to try and shoot that one down. But you can’t. You narrow your eyes and ask yourself who the hell he is because you’ve never seen him until now and he’s already worming his way in, unusually bold for boys his age and… unusually good at it. You (try to) berate yourself for even entertaining the thought because he’s in high school and high school boys are immature. Yet you can’t help but think that before you stands an exception. And you hadn’t been prepared in the least bit.

“And for the record, that whole college girls line wasn’t implying I wanted to hook up,” Billy adds. At this, your cheeks heat up. You’re such an idiot to assume that’s what he’d meant! You dug the hole yourself and jumped into it. You just had to fuck up one more time before you’d be buried. “But if you wanted to, just know I wouldn’t be against it. I hear it’s college girls who know how to have a good time.” He winks. At this point, you don’t even know what to say in reply. He’s backed you into a corner. And he knows it. But luckily you don’t have to respond because your saving grace descends the stairs with heavy footsteps and comes to a stop at the bottom.

“I see you’ve met my sister,” Steve says.

Billy looks over at him and stands back up straight, the hand that had been resting on the doorframe now going back into his jacket. He grins. “I have. Since you didn’t tell me she’d be around.”

“Didn’t think it was relevant. Come on.” Steve waves him in and you stand to the side to give him space. Billy gives you one more sly smile as he crosses the threshold and you sigh quietly as you close the door. You turn around and lean against it, watching as your brother leads him to the living room so they can begin working.

You decide to go upstairs to stay out of their way, and when you lay back on your bed, you’re conscious of the heat in your belly. Goddamn Billy Hargrove is a force to be reckoned with. With a groan, you roll over onto your stomach so you can squish your face into your pillow. A part of you is hoping you’ll run into him again while you’re here, and that’s the exact moment you know you’re done for. You’ve dug, jumped into, and buried yourself in a hole all on your own. There has to be some sort of trophy for that shit, right?

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #bubble-tea-bunny

[alliswell21]

Hello! Would you do 1# "We're not just friends and you fucking know it."? I'd love to read that

Hi Anon! A drabble for you with love! Thanks for the prompt.

1. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

oOo oOo oOo

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me, pleeeease don’t see me!

“Catnip, is that you?!?”

Shit! You saw me… ugh.

I plaster on a my best fake smile and turn to the cheery voice of my ex-best friend.

“Hey, Gale! Long time!” I say with as much excitement as I can muster even though I’m not excited to see him at all.

“I know! What are the odds to find you here, at Santa’s Village of all places. You used to abhor the place.” He says way too happy for the Gale I remember.

“Yeah,” I give a weak little laugh, “Crazy.”

We fall silent, there isn’t much to say on my part, but he tries to make small talk all the same.

“So, doing some holiday shopping?” He asks eyeing the dozen bags I’m watching like a dragon guards it’s loot.

“Yeah. Somewhat. Actually, mine is just this one,” I raise the tiny bag with the one measly item in it, feeling a little vindicated by the non existent weight of my purchase. I pride myself thinking that I still haven’t blown my Christmas budget unlike someone else I know.

Gale quirks an eyebrow, “And the rest belong to Prim?” He guesses.

“Oh… no, actually, they belong to me too, but… I didn’t actually paid for them.”

“Oh?” He looks like I’ve picked his interest, and I can’t have that. But like and idiot I just dig my hole even deeper.

“I mean, I did get to chose some of it, but… you know…” I trail off and look down at my watch none too casually, “Wow, look at the time!”

I hope he gets the hint and goes away quickly, because I’m starting to get anxious and my body language is starting to betray me, with each bounce of my leg.

The odds aren’t in my favor.

He clears his throat, and starts talking again.

“Look, Katniss…”

Oh no! He used my real name! He never uses my real name, except the one time he kissed me and tried to ask me to be his girlfriend.

Whatever he was about to say, he doesn’t get a chance to finish it though.

“Gosh! Sorry it took me so long! The lines at the food stand are insane, and I can’t fathom why. The food’s overpriced and the baked goods suck. I’m not one to brag about my own skills, but I’m a master baker next to this people.”

Peeta offers me a lidded cup I practically tear off his hand, and he frowns. Right away he can tell something’s bothering. He knows me that well.

His big blue eyes lift past me, and understanding smooths out his frown.

“Hi, Peeta Mellark!” He says cheerfully offering his hand to Gale, “we’ve never been officially introduced to one another, but I remember you from High School.” He says jovially.

“Uh, yeah. Gale Hawthorne. I was in the same history class as your brother Rye.” They shake.

“Of course,” Peeta smiles but the way he looks at me from the corner of his eye, tells me he’s more thinking about us being inseparable back in the day. “History with Rye.”

“Yeah. How is he, by the way? I heard he got married?” Says Gale relaxing back.

“Rye? No. Not Rye. He’s enjoying bachelor life way too hard to settle down.” Peeta chuckles.

“Huh… I could’ve sworn I heard one of baker Mellark’s boys eloped a couple of weeks ago.”

Peeta has that self satisfied, face splitting grin again and I choke in the sip of hot chocolate that was midway down my throat when he says in a very smug tone.

“Oh yeah, one of them did!”

I panic for some stupid reason.

“Well, I was great seeing you Gale, but it’s time for us to go. Time flies when you’re out shopping with friends isn’t it?” I start grabbing bag handles a little to harshly. I can’t look at either of them, and I’m starting to blame it on my condition.

“Yeah!” Says Gale finally, “I know what you mean. Although I’m here with my two younger siblings. I just gave them $20 each and let them lose at the candy stall. Better go collect them. Mother gets peeved is little Pusey’s appetite gets ruin with candy.”

I give a half hearted smile, and pretty much turn around and start walking as fast as I can with the fifty pounds of Christmas decorations Peeta just bought for our new home.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Says Peeta wrapping it up on my behalf. He says something else that I don’t catch, but I do hear Gale’s disappointed, almost heartbroken response.

“Oh… well, sure. I’ll make sure to let mother know. She’ll like to visit sometime.” He hesitates, but I hear him a moment later, “Bye Catnip. It was nice seeing you again.”

I wave without turning back and plow through, pushing through the crowded little alleys. Peeta catches me a second later, his body radiates irritation, so I don’t even dare to look at him until we reach the car, I don’t look at him even when he takes all of the bags from my hands gently to carrying them himself. We don’t say a word to each other all the drive home.

For as much as I dreaded acknowledging the Gale incident, this silence is killing me, so when he comes back into the house after his second trip to the car, I stand in front of him blocking his way, and demand he says something.

He only gives me a look. There’s hurt and a bit of anger in his eyes, but I won’t back down.

“Come on Peeta, isn’t you the one who always says it’s important to talk about the deep stuff and whatnot?” I say while trailing after him when he breezes past me in the hall.

He stops, turns and stares at me.

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.“ He spits angrily.

I’m momentarily confused by his words. “Of course I know that! What’s is that have to do with anything?” I ask getting frustrated.

“You made it sound like that was all I was to you, back there at the Village.” The hurt is even more evident now. “You tore out of there like a bat from hell, when Gale asked about our elopement.”

“What? What are you talking about?” I start, but he keeps going.

“Are you ashamed of me? Of us? Because if you are, you need to say so, right now, Katniss,”

There it is.

For as wonderful and sweet my new husband is, the scars a childhood full of bruises and berating from your mother, is impossible to erase completely. Sometimes old insecurities rear their ugly head up to bite, and it doesn’t help he married the biggest socially challenged person in the world.

He slumps his shoulders, and I deflate as well.

Before him, I never felt comfortable with any type of physical contact, my sister being the only person I would ever freely hug or show any kind of affection to. But now, with him… I crave his touch, his presence.

I realize how bad I must’ve look to him, but the truth is that my flight response wasn’t about him, it was more irrational than that.

“Oh Peeta,” I whisper wrapping my arms around his waist. He drops his chin on top of my head, and hugs me back.

“I’m not ashamed of you. But, I am pregnant and a little crazier than normal. You know that don’t you?” I lift myself into my tip toes and kiss his cheek.

“Then what was that all about?” He asks strumming his fingers against my spine.

“I don’t truly know. I was afraid he was gonna call me out on my hypocrisy. I did turned him down on account of never wanting kids or marriage, and here I am. Knock up and married.”

“I would’ve defend you, you know. Nobody comes to my wife to bully her without going through me first.”

“I know, babe. Although I don’t condone the caveman approach.”

“Dully noted,” he smiles against my temple. “But…” he sounds a bit impish, so I push away from him to look him suspiciously. I’m rewarded with a mischievous smile, “I invited his family over for our first ever New Year’s Party we’re hosting in our new house, and when he comes, I’m gonna start the tour of the house with the nursery… he’ll figure out without me saying then,”

“What?” I ask equal parts amused and terrified.

“It was just him you didn’t want kids and marriage with!”

I smile, because secretly, he’s wrong. I didn’t want children or marriage at all, but for him, I made an exception.