#hopefully people are cool with a couple less painful chapters

[harry-on-broadway]

Tying You To Me: Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Word Count: 6.0K || Series Masterlist || Rating: M (contains sexual content)

A/N: I meant to have this posted earlier in the week but work and life have been hectic, so we’ll have to settle for a chaotic Saturday night update. I know I have a lot to make up for after Chapter Eight, so hopefully this one is less painful. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so don’t hesitate to reach out. Thank you so much for reading! 

***

December 2019

Time.

That’s what Quinn had asked Harry for that night in the Hamptons. Time to figure out what would make her heart and her head stop racing in the painful way they had been in recent weeks.

Their conversation that night had seemingly raised more questions instead of providing the answers they were hoping for, but she’d walked away from that week knowing one thing for certain: Harry loved her. A deep, profound kind of love she hadn’t been aware she’d been looking for. Quinn and Harry hadn’t broken up. They were still together and completely enamored with one another but what was once a future full of unlimited promise was now a dark cloud of uncertainty.

Even with that hanging over them, Quinn was still ready to support him, which is how she found herself taking a last minute flight to Los Angeles for Harry’s concert celebrating the debut of his new album. It was a show week – Scarlett Johansson was the host – but Quinn had managed to get permission to fly out Friday morning, as long as she was back by dress on Saturday. Getting the time off was surprisingly easy now that people knew she was with Harry.

She hadn’t shared the details of her flight with Harry. She knew he would be overly accommodating, especially after the last fiasco at the Forum, and she didn’t want to distract him from his big night. So when she landed, she called an Uber, tossed her overnight bag on the seat next to her, and texted Jeffrey that she was on the way.

“Quinn!”

Quinn stepped onto the curb and saw Jeffrey waving at her as he jogged up the path.

“Perfect timing,” he said, pulling her into a hug when she met him halfway.

“How’s he doing?” she asked

“You know how he gets,” Jeffrey said. “He says he’s all loose and cool, but he’s really just a ball of anxious energy.” He paused. “It does seem like it’s a little worse tonight…probably because it’s the first time playing it and everything.” He looked at Quinn. “Wait, does he know you’re coming?”

“Yes,” Quinn said. “He didn’t know the flight details though so don’t yell at him for not meeting me at the airport.”

Jeffrey laughed. “That’s a throwback.”

“Not one I’d care to relive if I’m being honest.”

“Want to stop and grab a cup of coffee?” Jeffrey asked. “There’s a shop nearby and I could definitely use a break.”

“Yes, I desperately need caffeine.”

They darted across the street through the suspiciously light traffic and Quinn grabbed a seat on the patio while Jeffrey ordered inside, emerging 10 minutes later with two iced coffees, condensation dripping down his wrist.

“This is much more pleasant than our last encounter, that’s for sure,” he said, as Quinn added cream and sugar to her cup.

“Definitely.” She took a sip from the plastic cup.

“Is everything OK with the two of you?” Jeff asked, making no effort to hide his blatant attempt at fishing.

“What has he told you?” Quinn asked, getting a sense of the situation.

“Not much, just that you all are working through some stuff.” Jeffrey eyed Quinn. “He's been a little more subdued lately.”

Quinn folded the paper straw wrapper. Subdued was the perfect way to describe Harry’s behavior over the past couple of weeks. He’d become more measured, choosing his words carefully during their phone conversations, almost as if he felt like any sudden move would spook her and cause her to run.

“I love him, Jeffrey,” she said, speaking more candidly than she ever had with him. “But it’s like what do we do beyond that? How do we make this work five, ten, fifteen years down the road when things are different? Or if they’re the same? How do we build a life together when we have to schedule everything down to the minute?”

Jeffrey looked at her intently and for a minute she felt as though she’d misspoke.

“Can I level with you, Quinn?”

She nodded.

“I think we’re really alike – we’re fixers, problem solvers, planners. Some of it’s probably because of our jobs and, well, the rest is probably just our personalities.”

Quinn smiled.

“But sometimes, you have to be OK with no plan,” Jeffrey said. “You’ve just got to trust in the universe and hope for the best. I know that sounds cheesy but it’s the truth. Some of the best things in my life right now aren’t a result of planning, but from trust. You know what I’m saying?”

Quinn nodded slowly. “I do.”

“It’s not my business what you all do but I hope you’re able to figure things out,” Jeffrey added. “You’re good for him. He’s a better version of himself when he’s around you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Well I do.” Jeffrey took a sip of coffee. “Has he told you about what happened? After the break up? About Japan?”

“He’s hinted at things but I’ve never outright asked,” Quinn replied, remembering the night they got back together when Harry cried in her bed. “It seems like it was a tough time for him and I don’t want to push him if he’s not comfortable. I figured he’d share when he was ready.”

Jeffrey smiled. “See, this is why you’re good for him. You understand how he operates. But yeah, it was a tumultuous time. Lots of tears, lots of analyzing texts he’d never send, but I think he learned a lot during that time. So whatever he’s telling you, he means it. He’s had a taste of what it feels like to lose what matters most to him and he’s not going to go through that again.”

Quinn felt her eyes get watery listening to Jeffrey’s words. She knew they should have meant more coming from Harry but hearing it from someone else really validated what she was experiencing. It wasn’t just lust or a honeymoon phase. She and Harry had something real and significant that was worth fighting and sacrificing for. And she knew deep down that it was worth it to see things to the end.

“Smog’s killer in LA,” Jeffrey said, as Quinn wiped her eyes. “Terrible for vision.”

Quinn laughed. “Yeah, the smog.”

Jeffrey looked at his watch. “I should probably be getting back. You’re welcome to come with me or just chill until the show. I’m assuming you’re staying with H, tonight?” Quinn nodded. “If you want to get ready at his place I can give you a key.”

“That would be great,” Quinn said, catching sight of her reflection in the coffee shop window and cringing at how greasy she looked.

After Jeffrey sent her on her way with keys and directions, Quinn got to work rinsing off, trying to tame her hair into something semi-presentable, and hanging her outfit for the evening in the bathroom, hoping the steam would help smooth some of the wrinkles. Jeffrey had told Quinn that there would be a small gathering ahead of the show – similar to the last LA concert she went to – but suggested she arrive prior to that start time if she wanted to get some time alone with Harry.

When she was ready, she called herself another Uber and made it to the Forum, flashing the guest pass Jeffrey had given her earlier. Things felt different from the last time she’d walked these halls. As she passed by members of Harry’s team they greeted her with friendly waves and words, recognizing her from parties and dinners over the summer. It wasn’t like she was best friends with everyone, but being recognized made her feel like she was a part of everything, which meant the world to her.

Finding Harry’s dressing room proved to be a bit of a challenge, but she finally located it after a couple of wrong turns, knocking on the door and bracing herself for whatever reaction would greet her.

“Hiya stranger,” she said when Harry whipped the door open.

His eyes widened, a genuine smile breaking out on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Well I was here to see Jeffrey and just figured I’d squeeze a concert in too.”

“Very funny.”

“I try.”

Harry bent down to hug Quinn but paused. “Did you tell me your flight was coming in? Was I supposed to pick you up?” he asked as the color left his cheeks.

“No, no,” Quinn said, stepping into the room and wrapping her arms around his neck. “We had talked about me coming out here but with the album and the show and…everything else…I didn’t want you to have to focus on another thing.”

“That’s sweet,” Harry said. “But you do know it would have been no problem handling that for you, right? I always have time for you. You’re never a bother.”

Quinn smiled, recalling her conversation with Jeffrey earlier. “I know, H, and I appreciate that.”

Harry pulled her further into the room and led her over to a couch filled with velvet pillows. She could see his dinner was spread on the coffee table in front of him – salad with hard-boiled eggs, some bread, some soup – and she could hear the faint sounds of soothing instrumental music.

“Am I bothering you?” she asked, suddenly aware that her surprise might be throwing off his routine.

“What did I just say?” Harry asked, with a laugh tinged with loving exasperation. “You’re never a bother, Quinn.”

As Harry began to eat, Quinn filled him in on the past few hours, omitting her conversation with Jeff. When she’d stepped into the room, she could feel it buzzing with Harry’s nervous energy, but as she sat with him, she could feel a wave of calm surge through the room. After Harry was finished eating, he leaned back against the couch, opening his arms for Quinn. She readily accepted his invitation and snuggled into him as he tightened his arms around her. They sat in silence and Harry was so still Quinn began to wonder if he had fallen asleep, until he jumped when there was a knock at the door.

“Ready for me?” Harry Lambert asked, poking his head in the door.

Harry let out a long exhale. “Shit, didn’t realize it was time already,” he murmured to himself as Quinn moved to stand. “Where are you going?” he asked, grabbing her hand.

“You’re busy and I don’t want to disturb you,” Quinn said, as Harry laced his fingers with hers. She looked down at him and ran her free hand through his curls. “Break a leg and I’ll see you after the show.” She leaned down and kissed him gently. “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you too,” he whispered against her lips. He pulled back, looking like he wanted to say more.

“Harry, we’ll talk later, I promise,” Quinn said, stroking his hair one last time.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Harry replied, as he tugged at his bottom lip.

“Focus on the show,” Quinn said, offering a word of encouragement. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Harry locked eyes with her and nodded, understanding the unspoken meaning of her words. “I’ll see you later, Agent Q.”

Quinn offered him one final wave, blowing a kiss as she backed up towards the door. Harry caught the kiss and tucked it into his pocket. Quinn shook her head. He was such a goofball, but her was her goofball.  

“I think there are some people gathered in the green room down the hall,” Lambert said to Quinn as he moved over to Harry. “I’ll catch you there in a little bit.”

As Quinn meandered through the hallway, looking for the green room, she felt more confident than she had the last time she had been in the building and when she stepped inside the green room, she was greeted by many familiar faces.

“Red or white?” Tommy asked as he sidled up next to her, with two bottles of wine.

“White please,” Quinn said, offering him an awkward side hug.”Good to see you again.”

“You too, Q,” he said as he filled a plastic cup with a generous pour. “Have you seen our little rockstar yet?”

“I actually just left him to get ready,” Quinn said, over the rim of her cup.

“I’m so excited about tonight,” Tommy said. “It’s going to be great.”

“I’m excited to hear the album,” Quinn said.

“You haven't listened to it?” Tommy asked, surprised. “I thought for sure he would have played it for you.”

“Well like I’ve heard the singles but I told Harry I wanted to wait until release day to listen. You know, keep the anticipation building. But then when I was flying out I was just like, maybe I should wait and hear it live tonight.”

Tommy smiled. “Well, I think you’re going to like what you hear.”

“I hope so. It would be kind of awkward to go home with him and have to pretend it didn’t suck.”

Tommy laughed and tapped his cup against Quinn’s. “Cheers.”

After a moment, he excused himself to greet someone else across the room, leaving Quinn to start a lap of her own. She said hello to some people from Harry’s label and had a fun reunion with Glenne who scooped her into a hug with a delighted squeal. Jeffrey arrived a few minutes later and scooted into the circle, offering Quinn a wave.

“Did you see him yet?” Jeffrey asked, when he managed to find space next to Quinn.

“Yes.”

“And did you talk to him? What did he say?”

“Jeff, babe, leave them alone,” Glenne scolded. She turned to Quinn. “I swear he’s more invested in your relationship than he is ours.”

“What?” Jeffrey asked. “They belong together and I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

Before long it was time for the show to start and members of Harry’s team and band left the room to start the pre-show ritual with him, while Quinn and the rest of the group headed into an area of the arena that had been sectioned off for them.

It was a surreal experience knowing that everyone in that room was there for Harry. Quinn knew he was a global icon but she often forgot that on the day-to-day when she was fussing at him for stealing all of the chocolate chunks in the ice cream and hogging the covers. She pulled out her phone and started to take a video as the crowd began to chant for Harry. She wanted him to see the impact he had on everyone.

She stopped recording as the lights went down and she shifted around, searching for a better view of the stage and as she finally found a space to watch, Harry emerged, striking the soon to be iconic pose from his new album cover. Notes of music began to play slowly overtaking the crowd noise and though Quinn was in a crowd of thousands, she felt like she was alone as she watched Harry strum his guitar and sing.

The first song was one she hadn’t heard before, but it made her think of summer, specifically the melancholy she’d felt when she and Harry first broke up. As she listened, she was awestruck by Harry’s ability to make objectively sad lyrics work with a lighthearted melody. She recognized the songs that followed the opener – “Lights Up” would always be her favorite and she’d never forget the first time she’d heard it, walking down the nearly empty city streets early one morning – but as Harry moved from track to track she felt tears welling in her eyes as she listened to the lyrics and all the heartbreak and love they contained.

She couldn’t pretend to know what Harry was writing about – she wasn’t so bold as to presume that the entire album was about her – but the beauty of his songwriting was that the music and lyrics made it easy for anyone to find whatever personal meaning they needed to get from the song at a particular moment. And that was why she ended up standing in the middle of the Forum  as she thought about all the pain she had caused Harry over the years and the hope she had for their future together.

Harry ended the night on an energetic note, rocking out to “Kiwi” as only he could, and as their group made their way backstage to greet him, Quinn could only think about being in Harry’s arms. As he came offstage to the cheers of those who loved him most, Harry searched the room for Quinn and when he found her, he made his way directly towards her, wrapping his arms around her without saying a word. Quinn felt moisture against her head. It could have been sweat or tears, she didn’t know which, but she and Harry stayed like that as everyone milled about around them.

“I love you,” he said after a moment. “I love you, Quinn. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Quinn whispered against his chest. “And I’m so proud of you. So unbelievably proud.”

Harry and Quinn eventually broke apart, but as Harry made his way around the room, he kept Quinn close by, holding her hand or pulling her into his side as he greeted all of his guests. The crowd thinned as everyone left for the afterparty venue and after Harry changed out of his sweaty performance clothes and into another equally stylish outfit, he and Quinn set off to meet them.

Everyone wanted a piece of him at the party and Quinn reluctantly relinquished him from her grasp and headed over to grab some appetizers and another drink. As she ate, she said hello to those she’d missed at the show and reconnected with everyone she’d already seen. It wasn’t lost on her how easy it felt to be in Harry’s world now – everyone knew who she was and not only talked about Harry, but also asked about her work and their plans for the future. Two weeks ago, Quinn wouldn’t have known how to answer that question but thanks to the perfect combination of some contemplation, Jeffrey’s sage advice, and Harry just being Harry, Quinn knew what to say.

She was in deep conversation about her former university with the wife of a Columbia executive, who was also an alum, when she felt someone cup her elbow.

“Dina, would you mind if I borrowed this lovely lady for a minute?” Harry drawled, steering Quinn towards the balcony when Dina granted permission.

“Part of me thought you weren’t going to come tonight,” Harry said when they were alone outside, seated on a bench gazing out at the ocean. “I knew you were flying in but I just kept thinking ‘What if she doesn’t get on the plane?’”

“Harry…” Quinn reached for his hand. “I’d never do that to you.”

“I know, but the way we left things after the beach…” he trailed off. “I wasn’t sure.” He squeezed her hand. “But you made it.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Quinn said, returning the squeeze. “It was horrible of me to do that to you. Leave things so undefined and leave you unsure of what we were doing.”

“You’re not horrible, Quinn. You needed space to think and you asked for it. You told me what you needed to be comfortable and I was happy to give that to you.”

“I don’t want that anymore.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want me to give you space.”

“No,” Quinn said adamantly. “I want you with me all of the time. I want you texting me at all hours of the day. I want you to steal my sheets and kiss me with coffee breath. I want those spotty FaceTime calls where we have a terrible connection and I can’t see your face but I can hear your voice and that’s all I need because you know exactly what to say to make me feel better. I want you, Harry.”

Harry blinked, stunned, and Quinn took it as her sign to continue.

“You know how I am. I try to look for problems to fix them before they become an issue, and I only do that because I care. And I care about you more than anything in the world.”

“But what about all of your questions?” Harry asked cautiously. “Did you get an answer?”

Quinn shook her head. “No, but that doesn’t matter. We’re a team, we’re in love, and as a very wise person advised me, we’ve just got to trust that it’s all going to work out.”

Harry chuckled as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Let me guess…Marcus?”

“No, Jeffrey.”

Harry laughed a little harder. “We can't let him know you took his advice. We’ll never hear the end of it.”

Quinn smiled as she held out her hand. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise,” Harry echoed softly as he wrapped his little finger around Quinn’s.

“I’m here, and I’m not running, Harry,” Quinn said as she looked into his eyes. “It’s you and me to the end.”

Harry traced his fingers over Quinn’s. “Are you proposing to me, Agent Q?”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“Good, because I had a different plan as to how that was supposed to go down.”

“Harry!”

“You’ll see one day. Patience is a virtue, my love.” He leaned in to kiss her, taking his time, parting her lips with his tongue as he explored her mouth, tentative as if it was their first time.

Quinn didn’t want Harry to leave and when she felt him draw away, she brought her hand to the back of his neck and pulled him close. Harry sensed her urgency, leaning back into the kiss, their lips moving together, instinctively finding the best angle so there was no space between them. Quinn only broke away when realized she’d grown lightheaded.

Harry leaned his forehead against Quinn’s as their chests heaved in sync.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” he asked when he could speak again.

“Well, I’d thought I’d go home and fuck my boyfriend and have a snack but what did you have in mind?”

Harry laughed. “That plan works for me. Want to get out of here?”

“Hmm,” Quinn cocked her head. “Actually, I might do another lap, say hello to some people, get some more of those mozzarella sticks.” She slid over, preparing to stand up, but Harry was too quick, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his lap.

“No way. I like the sound of your first plan.”

“The snacks?” Quinn asked, teasing him.

“No, the fucking.” Harry nipped at her ear. “If we leave now I promise I will feed you as many mozzarella sticks as you want. Naked in bed.”

Quinn pursed her lips, pretending to consider Harry’s proposition. “I guess I can make that work,” she said, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss. She stood from Harry’s lap and pulled him with her, leading him back through the party to the exit.

“Hey you two,” Jeffrey called as he spotted them waiting for the driver to arrive. “What are you all up to?”

“We were actually just headed home,” Harry said quickly.

“Home?” Jeffrey’s eyes darted between the two of them. “Oh,” he said knowingly. “I take it you all had a productive conversation.”

Quinn nodded. “What gave it away?”

“Oh, I don’t know…the fact that you all practically ran out of the room.”

“Yeah, exactly, Jeffrey,” Harry said as the car pulled up. “And you’re holding us up. Talk to you later?”

Quinn shook her head as Jeffrey laughed. “Sure, H. We’ll talk later.” He turned to Quinn. “Are you really sure about this? He’s kind of a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah,” Quinn said, as Harry opened the door for her. “He’s annoying but I love him.”

Jeffrey laughed heartily as Harry gave him a told-you-so smirk and slid into the car after Quinn.

Despite visiting the city on a number of occasions, Quinn was woefully unfamiliar with Los Angeles geography, and while she knew Harry’s house wasn’t too far from the venue, the drive back took an agonizingly long time, which was made even more unbearable thanks to Harry’s insistence on teasing her.

As they navigated the streets, filled with traffic even at the late hour, he grazed his hand up and down Quinn’s leg, fingers dancing close to the spot between her thighs where she most desperately wanted to feel him. When she tilted her head to give him warning glare, he arranged his face into a look of innocence.

At last, the driver pulled up the path, stopping in front of the house. Harry wasted no time exiting the vehicle, briskly thanking them and shepherding Quinn through the door. He locked the deadbolt and before he could fully turn around, Quinn was on him, kissing him with a ferocity she couldn’t earlier in the evening. Harry leaned in, his own passion matching Quinn’s as he raked his hands up her body under her shirt. He’d touched her many times before but this felt like the first time, his fingers exploring each area he knew well. He didn’t know it was possible for someone to feel so soft, so warm.

Quinn started fumbling with the buttons on Harry’s shirt. He’d made her job easy, leaving half of them unbuttoned but with the way she was feeling, drunk on wine and desire, she felt like she couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough. Harry saw what she was doing and quickly stripped his shirt off before pulling Quinn’s off as well. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around him and hiking her right leg up around Harry’s hip, seeking out more skin-to-skin contact.

Harry pulled back and gazed down at Quinn, who looked up at him, chest heaving. “Should we take this upstairs?”

Quinn nodded, and Harry scooped her up, carrying her bridal style up the stairs before dropping her onto his bed. He laid down next to her and intertwined his fingers in her hair, pulling her close to him.

“I love you, Harry,” she whispered against his lips. “I love you so much. Will you let me show you?”

Harry nodded spellbound, but as Quinn stood up his brow furrowed. “Where are you going?”

“You gave me a show tonight, now it’s my turn to return the favor,” she said as she shed her pants and undergarments. Harry eased up onto his elbows and Quinn felt a surge of pride at the way his eyes widened and his throat bobbed as she stood in front of him.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

Quinn stepped between his legs and ran her fingers through his hair, tilting his head back. “I think it’s time to get your pants off.” She bent down, undoing his belt and sliding the linen pants down his hips and legs, tossing them behind her. Harry leaned back, taking all of Quinn in, eyes darting up and down her body as if he didn’t know where to look and didn’t want to miss a thing.

“Calm down,” Quinn said as she straddled his hips. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” She cupped his face in her hands and as she kissed him deeply she felt his length start to harden against her already wet core.

“Do you like this?” she whispered.

“I like everything you do,” Harry said in a rush. He ran his hands up her body, landing on her breasts. He kneaded at them, rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, causing Quinn to sigh and arch her back at the pleasure that filled her. He loved how sensitive she was and how the slightest touch could make her weak.

Regaining her composure, Quinn pushed him down and positioned herself over Harry’s growing cock. She rolled her hips, once, twice, three times, sliding her wet heat over his length. Based on how he continued to plump up, Quinn knew he was enjoying it. But he wasn’t the only one. She was so turned on, she was confident she could make herself cum from that action alone.  

“Are you ready?” Quinn asked, pausing to grip him firmly in her hand and running her thumb over his red, leaking tip.

Harry silently nodded as Quinn lowered herself onto his cock, biting her lip in a poor attempt to contain the moan that escaped her lips as she took every inch of him. She always forgot how delicious it felt when he stretched her for the first time after they’d been apart and she loved the way it made her feel full and complete in no other way.

Harry’s eyes snapped shut and he hissed as Quinn moved up and down, adjusting to his size. They weren’t even five minutes in and he was ready to burst. “You feel so good love,” he managed to murmur. “So good.” He brought his hands to Quinn’s hips as she finally settled on top of him.

“Who said you could touch?” she asked, raising a brow.

Harry looked up at her speechless. “What?”

“Tonight’s all about you,” Quinn said. “Just sit back and watch.”

Quinn bounced a few more times before starting to grind, using Harry’s chest for leverage, a position that not only created the perfect angle for Harry’s cock to hit that spot deep inside of her, but also pushed her breasts towards Harry’s face. Based on the dazed look on his face, she’d wager he was enjoying it too. She lowered herself closer to Harry’s chest as she continued grinding against him, and the slight change in position ensured that her clit moved against Harry with each pass and the combined sensation of him inside her and against her was bringing her embarrassingly close to orgasm.

She sighed, trying to hold on, digging her nails into his pecs as she sped up the pace. She looked down at Harry. His curls were splayed on the duvet behind him, mouth lips slightly parted as he looked up at her. “I’m close, Harry,” she said, breathless. “I could come right now.”

“So why don’t you?” Harry asked. “You said tonight’s all about me and I’d really like that.”

Quinn shut her eyes, desperately chasing the high she craved. She could feel that familiar tightening behind her belly button and she bit down on her lip as she focused on falling off the edge. Suddenly, she felt Harry’s hand on her hip and his thumb on her clit as he made quick circles over the tender bud.

“Wh–”

“My night, my rules, right?” Harry said.

“I don’t think that’s exactly what I mea– oh!” Quinn gasped as she felt the rush of her orgasm crash through her body. She stilled as she came down from the high and collected herself, trying to catch her breath, when all of a sudden she was on her back.

“Harry!” she yelped.

“You got yours, now it's time to get mine,” he murmured as he started to rapidly snap his hips in search of his own finish.

Still sensitive from her first orgasm, Quinn knew a second was painfully close, and even though the sensation of Harry inside of her was almost uncomfortable at this point, she couldn’t pull away. She needed to take as much from him as she could and she closed her eyes, relishing the moment.

From his new position on top, Harry had access to all of his favorite parts of Quinn, and he made sure to show how much he loved her, whispering affirmations as he kissed along her face, her neck, her collarbone, and her breasts. His chants of “I love you, I love you,” almost took on a ritualistic nature as he propelled himself to release, collapsing on Quinn after he came.

They lay in silence for a few moments, calming down, when he propped his head up to look at Quinn. “Ready for round two?”

***

“Come home with me.” Harry said a few hours later after they’d showered and eaten and were cuddling in bed.

“I think that invite is a little late,” Quinn said with a smirk. “I’m already here.”

“No,” Harry said gently. “Home. London.”

“Now?”

“No, not now,” he continued as he adjusted himself to get a better look at her. “In the new year. After the holidays. I think we can work something out. Maybe a week when you’re off before I leave for tour?” He started tracing shapes across Quinn’s exposed shoulder while he waited for a response.

“I’d love that, Harry,” Quinn said. “I can look at my calendar and book a ticket.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Have you ever been to London?”

“Technically yes. I had a layover in Heathrow when I studied abroad in Paris, but I never actually left the airport.”

“You’re going to love it,” Harry said without hesitation. “It’s like a quieter New York. We’ll get you some fish and chips and take you around the town.”

“I’d like to meet one of the Queen’s corgis if we’re making plans.”

Harry laughed. “I will try my best to get that on the itinerary.” He paused. “You could also meet my mom if you want. She doesn’t have a corgi but she has a few cats.”

Quinn could feel Harry’s heart pounding in his chest as he tried his best to appear casual. She knew that she and Harry were serious. They’d reaffirmed their commitment to each other numerous times over the past few months, but meeting families was definitely a new step. And it was one that Quinn was ready to take.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Quinn replied, curling in closer to Harry.

Quinn’s flight left early the next morning and Harry was reluctant to let her go. He followed her around the house as she packed the few belongings she brought with her and scarfed down a quick breakfast.

“You could just stay here,” Harry said as he clung to her while she brushed her teeth and hair.

“You know I can’t do that, H,” Quinn replied after spitting out her toothpaste. “I had to fight to get yesterday off. Lorne would kill me if I missed the show tonight.”

“I think I could convince him otherwise.”

“They like you, but not that much,” Quinn said, patting Harry’s cheek as she tossed her toothbrush in her bag.

Harry drove Quinn to the airport and she kept her mouth shut when it became clear that he purposely took the long way to LAX, doing everything he could to postpone her departure. Finally, he pulled up into the drop-off lane outside of the airport. Quinn was emotional thinking about leaving him for a few weeks, but she could tell it was hitting Harry even harder.

“Maybe I could fit into your suitcase,” he suggested, trying to play off his emotions with humor.

“Do you have a new yoga routine I don’t know about?” Quinn asked.

Harry laughed softly. “No. I just don’t want to see you go.”

“I don’t want to go either, Harry,” Quinn said, squeezing his hand. “But we’re going to talk everyday. You know you can always text me. And I’ll see you in a few weeks. I’m going to look at my schedule and plane tickets on the flight.”

Harry sniffed. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

“It doesn’t, but we know we can do it,” Quinn said with a certainty she hadn’t felt when she’d last said goodbye to him. “We’ve got this.” She kissed him. “And you need to start making my itinerary.”

Harry leaned across the console to give Quinn a long but chaste kiss. “Text me when you land?”

Quinn nodded and opened the door, grabbing her bag. “I love you,” she said one final time before heading into the airport.

“I love you too,” Harry called after her.

Boarding and takeoff were shockingly smooth, and when Quinn checked her email there was plenty for her to sort through. Messages from work as well as her family, looking to confirm holiday plans. But one subject line in her personal account caught her attention: Agent Q’s London Itinerary. She smiled to herself and started counting down the days until she would see Harry again.

***

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[jellyfishlilith109]

Third wheel for life!?

Chapter 1

I woke up in a daze, not remembering much from the night before, but nothing important ever happens to me anyways, so it's not like I'm missing anything.

We just went out for drinks anyways, my best friend from highschool said she had great news and wanted to go out and celebrate. What are we celebrating? My forever single life and her engagement, rather fitting that Jessica is finally engaged to her high school crush while I'm still married to my job. I love my job don't get me wrong but, sometimes I just wish that there was someone to come home to.

I've tried the dating thing, over and over and over again. Every time they turn me down for one reason or another. They always say "Your too loud.", "Did you dress up at all?", "I don't want a working woman, so you'll have to loose the job to get with me.", "I'm not interested in anyone over x weight.", "Put on a little more makeup and I'll consider a second date.", thats how they always ended, before the second date. Not once have I ever even had a second date.

Some may say I'm jealous and jaded over everyone around me seemingly finding love out of thin air, and their damn right, but for Jessica I understand. Jessica never had to look for love, well not for herself but she definitely enjoys playing matchmaker for me. Our first day into high school, while walking to first class together. she tripped on a crack in the concrete and fell right into the arms of the man of her dreams. Personally I never really liked John, but for Jessica's sake I was cordial with him. John and Jessica were the ideal couple for most people, the star quarterback and the head cheerleader. Being the third wheel had never really crossed my mind until they started inviting me less and less.

After graduation they left for college and I spoke to them occasionally for two years. Just last week Jessica messaged me about going out for drinks in celebration, and right now I'm wishing I would have took it easy on the drinks. My head is killing me and the light coming through the curtain makes me want to snuggle into the cool bed and just go back to sleep, but I have to get up and-. What time is it!? It's already eight in the morning, I'm late for work! Why didn't my alarm go off?

I throw off my covers and head to the bathroom, quickly swallowing some pain relievers for the headache and brushing my teeth. I rush into the closet and grab a pair of black heels, skinny jeans, a tank top and an oversize sweater. Hopefully my boss won't care that I didn't have the energy to dress up today. As I walk out I put my shoulder length brown hair in a ponytail, spritz myself with some perfume and grab my stuff from the bowl by the door.

Checklist of things I can't leave without: phone check, wallet check, keys check, other wallet check. Wait other wallet, where did I get-. I glance up at the clock on my wall and just say screw it I'll have to figure it out later, my boss is gonna kill me. I throw everything in my pockets and rush out to my car, she's not much but she's mine, a black kia forte. I turn the ignition, buckle my seatbelt and take off.

I finally get to my job at eight thirty, after getting stuck in traffic, and rush to my desk. Being a receptionist and assistant isn't what I had in mind when I graduated but I couldn't turn down the pay. My boss is probably already fuming so I need to get everything started now and head to his office as quick as I can. I empty my pockets into the bottom drawer of my desk and lock it, sliding my key into it's hiding spot, before heading over to the room where we keep all the food. My boss loves coffee and snacks and doesn't mind sharing with me so he leaves it unlocked for me to get what I want and bring him some too.

Two iced honey buns and a carmel macchiato with four spoons of sugar and three dashes of creamer, I still have no idea why my boss likes his coffee so sweet, but I've made it like this every working morning for over a year now. As I walk into his office, I notice he isn't there and it's already almost nine, bad sign number one. I place the honey buns on the desk and the coffee on the coaster and turn around to leave when I notice an open file on his desk, bad sign number two. My boss has never told me what he does, and honestly I really didn't care when I first started working here, let alone leave something just lying on his desk. The man locks up everything possible in his storage room and spends a good amount of time making sure everything is organized on top of that. Leaving this out means it's either not important at all and will need to be taken my me to shred once he redacts the neccesarily details or this is important and something more important needed his attention. Either way I need to wait for him to tell me what he needs done for the day, every day it is something different. Some days there is nothing to do but sit at the desk and entertain myself because he's organizing his files, others I've scheduled every open slot and have the day bleed into overtime. Today has nothing on the schedule, so it might be a lazy day, just what I need for this headache to go away.

I've waited about 5 minutes before I glance over at the file. Maybe I can just glance over it and see if it needs to be shredded, if not I can just wait at my desk. The file looks to be just a few papers, I can skim it in a few seconds and be on my way.

I take a seat in my boss's chair and flip to the front of the first page and some of it has already been blacked out. All I can make out is that this is a conversation between the boss and someone else and that there is something the boss doesn't want to sell but the other guy won't take no for an answer.

I flip to the back of the first and the front of the second pages, and find the same thing. More redaction and still going on about not wanting to sell such an important asset, but willing to negotiate for a redacted amount.

As I flip to the back of the second and first of the third pages, I glance up at the clock. I need to hurry up before he gets back. I can tell this is where the boss left at, the redactions stop and I can read clearly on the third page. I can't believe what I'm seeing, it's a contract with my boss's signature, and the asset being sold is me.

"Lilith, I've been looking for you, there's someone I want you to meet."~

End chapter 1

Comment if you want more or found a mistake in my grammar

#chapter 1 #fnaf #moon fnaf #moondrop fnaf #fnaf security breach #sun fnaf #daycare attendant fnaf #sundrop fnaf #this is my work of fiction #please don't steal #im a simp

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: Aftermath

Not much physical whump in this chapter or the next but that doesn’t mean there won’t be any angst or whatever so there’s that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

←Previous  - Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: painful magical healing, referenced use of “it” pronouns

The days since the incident had been entirely uneventful, which was both a blessing and a curse. Erebus was certainly glad to have some time to himself without being examined and grabbed all the time, but just being stuck in this room with only so many things to do and no one to talk to was a little rough. He had nothing to distract him from the myriad of things he didn’t want to dwell on. Struck with a sudden urge, he picked up his pillow, walked into the bathroom, calmly sat down in the corner, pressed his face into the pillow, and screamed. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why, not that he didn’t have a multitude of reasons to. Maybe he wanted to do it without anyone hearing for once. Maybe it was because that arm still took him by surprise every time he looked down. Maybe the constant itch of the collar wrapped around his throat had finally gotten to him. Maybe it was the fact that he could hardly write his name anymore, despite his best efforts. Maybe it was because the only person who’d been kind to him since this whole mess began, the only person he could turn to for comfort, was also ripping him to pieces, making him into some kind of monster. And there was nothing he could do about any of it. All he could do was endure. Endure and hope things wouldn’t get much worse.

He heard the door to the cell open, but he stayed where he was, figuring it was just someone dropping off food or bandages. It wasn’t until he heard a tentative “What are you...you’re not asleep are you?” that he looked up. Neteri was poking her head through the doorway, giving him a concerned look. She looked a lot better than the last time he’d seen her, and Erebus almost smiled before remembering that A) she was the majority of the reason he was so miserable in the first place and B) her catching him doing...this...was embarrassing, to say the least. He felt his face grow red.

“Why are you...were you just going to look in here without knocking?” Now it was Neteri’s turn to blush.

“Well-you-the door wasn’t closed so I thought...whatever, it’s not like I saw anything. What are you even doing in here?”

“I’m-it’s none of your business.” He stood up, taking comfort in the significant height advantage he had over her. “Look, can we...not talk in here?” Neteri nodded and they went and sat in the main part of the cell, Neteri on one of the chairs and Erebus on the bed. He didn’t put the pillow down, hugging it to his chest instead.

“So. How have you been these past few days? Both with your arm and after the, uh, incident?”

“My arm hurts and it’s shaky and I can’t straighten it out or make a fist and I can barely write with it.” Erebus rattled off his grievances quickly. He’d tried to keep track of everything that he noticed was wrong with it in the hopes that Neteri could fix it, going over the list time after time in his head. She nodded slightly.

“Okay, not too bad. It’s about what I was expecting, honestly, so I should be able to fix it without too much trouble.” Erebus allowed himself to feel a small bit of relief. If he was going to be stuck with this horrific arm, it was at least going to work. 

“As for what happened with, uh…”

“Hjáll?”

“Yeah. I...I think I’m okay now.” Erebus looked down. “Being a person...helps.” He looked back up at Neteri. “Who is she, anyway?

“She’s...my rival? Kind of. And also my boss.”

“Wait that was your boss?! Does that mean that she can-”

“No, no, what she did the other day was completely out of line. She technically has a right to examine you every so often, but I have to consent to it and be present, which obviously didn’t happen then.” She sighed. “I...I’ll likely have to let her do it again in the future, but I promise it won’t be like, uh, that. I’ll be right there the whole time, and I won’t let her hurt you or do anything...weird.”

“So I’m just going to have to sit there and let her...look at me?”

“Well, most likely she’s going to request that you be restrained, since she seems to have gotten the impression that you’re some kind or feral beast, which is honestly hilarious. What, did you bite her or something?”

“No, I just resisted when she tried to take off my clothes. I pushed her back. And I kicked her.” Neteri burst out laughing.

“Wait, you kicked her? You?” Erebus nodded, and Neteri laughed again. “Oh, oh that’s fantastic. I love it. She’s so high-and-mighty all the time and it is annoying. For real though, if she looks at you again I swear it won’t be that bad. Ugh, she’s probably going to keep using “it” pronouns for you, but I’ll try to correct her.” Erebus hated that he was grateful that his captor was insistent on treating him with basic human decency in this one instance, but here he was. “Alright.” Neteri jumped out of her chair. “You ready for me to fix your arm?”

“As long as you’ll get it right this time,” he said as he stood up.

“Keep talking like that I just might not.” He was afraid she was serious for a second, but the mischievous smile she flashed up at him told him otherwise.

After she freed his ankle, her hand clamped around his right wrist and she began to gently pull him down the hall. He briefly entertained the thought of jerking out of her grasp and running, but deep down he knew there wasn’t much point. He had no idea where he was in the castle or where the teleportation stone was, and he’d honestly rather just let Neteri get his arm working correctly. So he let her lead him along without a fight, at least until they arrived at the lab. He stopped in his tracks upon seeing that table again, the horrors of a few days prior starting to overtake his mind. Neteri looked up at him.

“You’re going to have to get on there if you want me to fix it.”

“C-could I at least sit up or-”

“Nope, I need you to be as still as possible or else it’ll mess with the...things could get messed up, to put it in not-technical terms. You need to be lying down and secured.” She thought for a moment. “I can, like, not strap all of you down, would that make you feel better?” He steeled himself before slowly nodding, approaching the table on shaky legs. Deep breath. He hoisted himself up onto the table, every fiber of his being crying out in protest not to get back up here, not to lie down and let himself be tortured all over again. But he did it anyway, because it was either do it himself or be forced to. Neteri watched him intently the whole time, not moving even when he’d laid down.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“You’re...you’re really brave.”

“Huh?” 

“Well,” she said as she finally moved towards him, gently rolling up his right sleeve and unwinding the bandage,  “I mean I can tell how scared you are, and that’s justified, but you still got up here despite that, you know?”

“I don’t think that’s...I just know there’s no point in running or fighting.” He looked away, and his voice dropped to barely above a whisper, “I think it means I’ve given up more than anything.”

“In a way, yes, but that’s not a bad thing.” She tightened the strap around his right wrist. “You just understand that resisting gets you nothing, and you’d rather make the choice to cooperate, but you’re still…” she furrowed her brow as she strapped his chest down. “You still have...resolve or...I don’t know how to explain it. Just like...something.”

“Something. That really clears it up.” She smiled.

“In conclusion: you’re brave,” she declared as she shoved the rag into his mouth to prevent him from arguing further. He halfway reached up to pull it out, but stopped himself and laid his arm back down. Maybe he shouldn’t give her a reason to strap his other arm down, since it seemed like she was going to start with just his right arm and chest secured. He braced himself, fingers of his left hand curling into the fabric of his shirt as he looked up at Zander the rat.

The pain started out quiet and slow, crackles and pops of little agonies sparking throughout his arm, preludes to the coming blaze. They steadily intensified, and before he knew it he was screaming, head arched back and knees bent as the pain ravaged his arm. A thousand flames coursed through every nerve before the sensation changed to a crawling itch, and it was all he could do to resist scratching at his arm. Thankfully, the magic stopped flowing soon after. And after a few residual twinges, the pain stopped too.

Neteri was breathing heavily, but she seemed to be in a much better condition than she had been the last time she attempted this, no blood coming out of her nose or ears. She smiled at him. “The worst of it should be over, but I might have to make a few adjustments. Can you try to make a fist? You said you couldn’t do that before, right?” Hesitantly, he did so, feeling a bolt of elation as the foreign fingers obeyed with ease. She let him sit up, having him move his arm all sorts of ways, and they were both happy to find that there were no problems with it at the moment. She cut the stitches around the now-healed spot where red and bronze skin were gnarled together, and he couldn’t help but wince as she pulled them out, despite how gentle she was being.

Once they got back to the cell, Erebus realized he could finally ask Neteri the question he’d thought of yesterday. “Does it do anything?”

“What?”

“The arm, does it do anything...special? Like how the tongue-”

“Oh, yeah, it should be able to...well, have you ever met a lust demon?”

“No?”

“Alright well basically what they’re able to do is change their appearance to suit the, ah, tastes of whatever human they’re trying to prey on. We’re not exactly sure if this is something they’re consciously able to do or if it’s purely reactionary. But there is a possibility that you’ll be able to change the appearance of your arm with enough practice.” 

“Really?” Erebus looked down at his arm, imagining it changing back to look like the one he’d lost, feeling a small spark of hope.

“Mmhmm. Theoretically, at least. I can’t promise you’ll be able to do it, but there’s a chance.” She shrugged as she said this. “Oh, that reminds me of something else I wanted to ask you earlier. Is there anything you want? I...I feel bad about what happened with Hjáll, and the procedure on your arm was more painful than it was supposed to be. So, is there anything I can do to sorta make it up to you? Obviously I’m not going to let you go or stop what I’m doing, because no, but uhhh…” Erebus furrowed his brow. What did he want besides his freedom? He considered asking her to let him visit his home and say goodbye to people, but he shuddered at the thought of anyone who knew him seeing him in his current state, and he didn’t want to burden them with the reality of what was happening to him. They might blame themselves, and it wasn’t their fault. So he wouldn’t ask her to take him to Nathar, but maybe…

“Could I...go outside? I haven’t seen the sky or plants or anything in so long and I...I hate being stuck underground like this.”

“Sure! Ooh, I could show around the city! Yeah, yeah, that should work. I’ll need to get a few things in order first, so it might be a couple of days.” She got up to leave. “Until then, work on seeing if you can get your arm to change or whatever. I’ll be back with your food...at some point later today.”

After she left, Erebus stared at his arm, concentrating on the image of the one he’d once had, trying to imagine the skin fading from bright red to light brown, but it remained the same as before. Well, he didn’t expect it to work right away. But hopefully it would, someday.

Hopefully.

Next→

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @starnight-whump @unicornscotty @thebewilderer @kixngiggles

#i wrote something #erebus & terror #erebus #neteri #hopefully people are cool with a couple less painful chapters #we will return to horror after this short break! #so yee hjall will come back whenever i want to make erebus uncomfy again. its her job #thats right lust demons FUCK who would have thought #basically they live off of human bodily fluids...any fluids...in any orifice... #yeah #they could drink blood like vampires if they wanted to tho #but we get possible arm editing hours so this mans isnt stuck with it being red wheee #dw he will not have a good time with making it do shit #yeah thats right i will get to dump all my taiyorum lore into canon in the next chapter #after that we will return the anguish :) #but erebus can have a little break from being ripped apart. as a treat #hnng which means i have to figure out how to talk about crossbeds without calling them crossbeds #maybe i will harass someone who dont know geology #what the fuck is it with the chapters where like nothing happens being so dang long #seriously what the fuck you two stop talking all the dang time #this one is up there with ch8 in ''things that need to happen but i hate it but i want to just move on so here'' #okay i dont like hate it hate it i just. blegh #yes i only finished it because i was procrastinating on my hw

[alpacaparkaseok]

Inside “The Pact”

Hello! For those of you that followed along with The Pact, I received a few questions and requests to get an inside look. I’ll link the post here that explains a bit more about what this is gonna be about. 

We’re gonna break this down into sections: first will be answering your questions about The Pact & the characters. Then I’ll show you guys a little about my notes & decision making process (which is very obscure because I just tend to keep a hypothetical tab open in my brain most of the time lol) as well as some pictures of my ideas!! 

Thanks for requesting such a fun thing to do now that this series is over. It’s been fun to look back!

Q. What song did the boys dedicate to y/n?

A. “Her” || This is a sad song, but I felt like it fit so well with how the boys had to hide a part of themselves (their feelings) away for the sake of the pact!

--

Q. Did the boys get mad/how did the boys react to Jungkook’s kiss?

A. Jungkook was a little shocked, and felt extremely guilty on the drive back home. He wasn’t sure if he could stand to tell his hyungs, but he also knew he couldn’t lie to them. Naturally, the second he walked in the house and everyone saw his face, they knew. It was just quiet, everybody was a little hesitant to say anything/bring it up because they were all upset. Only Jimin has heard all of the details of JK’s kiss, whereas the others are simply aware that he kissed her and that’s that.

Namjoon was the most upset, although he didn’t say anything. He just sat there on the couch and did the jaw-clenching thing he always does. Yoongi just tried to change the subject and ask about other aspects of the date. Taehyung was actually pretty pissed, especially because he’d been so good about refraining from kissing you even when you’d asked for it. Hobi had a chat with him later that night and calmed him down. Jin wasn’t angry so much as he was worried that he missed his shot & couldn’t stop replaying his date in his head.

--

Q. Who fell for y/n last?

A. Namjoon. He’d had a little crush, and that’s why he was willing to go along with the pact. But it hit a point less than a year ago when he fell hard and fast. (you called him in the middle of the night when he was on tour and he realized that your sleepy voice is possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard) The boys noticed and as a result teased him endlessly about it, because he doesn’t quite know how to navigate his feelings. 

--

Q. Who did the boys bet on? (We already know that Jimin bet on Yoongi and won lol)

A. Namjoon bet on JK, Tae bet on Hobi, Hobi bet on JK, Jin bet on JK, and Yoongi bet on Jin, and JK bet on Namjoon (because we all know JK would pick Namjoon lol)

--

Q. Didn’t y/n ever date other guys? How did the boys react?

A. hahaha ok I actually would have such a fun time writing this Yes, she dated around a bit. For the first year of the pact, she had an on again, off again bf. It wasn’t very serious, and she always made that clear to the boys. They still hated the dude. After they broke up, she only went on a few dates here and there. Didn’t really seriously date. (except for that one time she went on vacation and had a fling, but everyone has decided to forget that) They just smiled and supported her, although Tae was always very clear that he didn’t like any of the guys she dated. 

--

Q. In Namjoon’s date, who was the 1950′s author mentioned?

A. Agatha Christie, the queen. 

--

Q. How did y/n meet Jimin? (he was the one that introduced her to the rest of the group)

A. She was a PR intern for Lee Hyun. Jimin and Lee Hyun are close, and they crossed paths fairly often until Jimin decided to invite her to hang out. 

--

Q. What is y/n studying in school?

A. Public Relations (which will honestly come in handy with her new relationship lol)

--

Q. Where was Jin in the last chapter when y/n came to the studio?

A. Agh how could you ask me this and bring back all that pain?! Jin was at his brother’s restaurant for some much needed R&R. He ended up staying the night with him, not wanting to go home just yet and have to face his decision.

--

Q. Who would you personally choose to end up with and why?

A. KIM SEOKJIN. Date #5 was basically for me lol. Like, unapologetically wrote that for myself. Not just because he’s my bias, but because I personally felt like I could picture myself chilling on that couch watching Dateline with him. And it was beautiful. 🤧 Also, while Jin can be loud and goofy, he’s an introvert. I’m an extravert with introverted tendencies, so I just feel like his date would have been the most comfortable for me.

--

CREATING THE PACT - AN INSIDE LOOK AT MY NOTES

First thing’s first, I have an on-going page in my notes on my phone which is FILLED with ideas & half-formed thoughts. Before I began writing The Pact (or even Spooked, for that matter), this happened:

So you can see that I had no idea what I was doing lol, but I thought that it would be cool. Mainly I wanted an excuse to write OT7 and display all the members in a sweet light. Also, we see that not all of these actually made it into the series. (Tae w/ the family)

BUT THEN, “SPOOKED” HAPPENED, AND A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY POPPED UP 

ngl, I cracked up when I looked back at my notes and saw this. 

“Sweet Gloria what am I doing to myself” 😂😂 this was when I was pushing “Lost & Found” out and planning for Taehyung’s series (which is why so much is blocked out on my notes, because it’s riddled with spoilers lol) so I literally had no idea why I was jumping into another project as I was already super busy. That’s why I scheduled it for just Saturday’s! (and also why I sometimes posted super late at night lol)

As you can see, Seokjinnie’s date was literally always on my mind. From the very beginning. Which is odd, considering the fact that he didn’t end up being endgame. wow it’s like he’s my bias or something

Occasionally I’d take breaks from hw and work on getting to know how the boys were with y/n. Quotes and poetry serve as a great source of inspiration, and I assigned a quote to each member. (notice the little stars by Jin, Yoongi’s and JK’s names lol, they were my top three as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now)

There were a couple of things that I didn’t think of adding until I was reading through your theories and got an idea of what you needed to push the series in the right decision. i.e. bringing Gina back to explain that she closed the door in Spooked. 

I have a whiteboard in my room that I use to map out what I need to do that week for whatever series I’m working on (as well as jot down ideas for new series, which I why this photo doesn’t show the whole board haha) 

So here’s a peek at my thought process for writing about how the pact was formed. Sorry if you can’t read it haha

NOW, the last few questions you guys had:

Q. Did you ever change your mind while writing the pact?

A. Yes! I actually originally intended for Hobi to have written the note. It fit very well with how angry he was at first and how worried he was during the date. But by the time I'd gotten to Jin’s date I kinda knew that he wouldn’t be that petty but Jin would haha

I also planned on Yoongi kissing y/n on their date. It was supposed to be on a rooftop somewhere, which we know didn’t happen. In fact, I didn’t really intend for their date to be so disastrous until I was coming closer to having to write it. I think I was a mess, so the date was a mess lol

I had no idea what I was doing for Tae’s date until I wrote it, all I knew was that there had to be a museum. The rest I just made up as I wrote and hoped that it made sense. (also, for some reason I hated the museum portion of the date. Idk why, but it just felt so stark to me. still don’t like it lol)

Q. When did you know how it was going to end? 

A. That’s a....difficult question lol. Honestly, I thought of just doing an audio recording and uploading it because it I didn’t really know how to put it into words, but then I realized that most people probably wouldn’t wanna listen to that lol. So here we are. 

I had the ending scene in mind before The Pact even became a thing. I knew I had a series that I wanted to end with baking cookies. (weird, I know.) It didn’t exactly go how I planned, but I remember having the thought while writing Spooked (when I thought I was just writing a one shot) that it would be nice for y/n to be with Yoongi. I just instantly felt like they had a connection, when he was the first one she went toward. From then on out, I always kinda kept Yoongi in the background. 

I had a crisis about halfway through (right before Jin’s date) when there were a bunch of people rooting for Tae, because he hadn’t even been on my radar. But then Jin’s date went much better than I thought it was going to/received better, so I think that got me back on track. 

But from the beginning, Yoongi was #1. (I wrote this in the back of my Career’s notebook lol) when I was trying to figure out for myself who wrote the pact. 

So yeah! There you have it! Just an FYI, I had to physically restrain myself from throwing caution to the wind and making Jin endgame. Especially when so many of you were on board. :( However, the survey helped because Yoongi was the majority of votes (closely followed by Jin & JK) and that showed me that we were still on the right track! 

Ngl, my brain stopped working around Wednesday of last week, so writing the finale took FOREVER because nothing would compute. But I’m so happy you guys enjoyed it and reached out to me about it! This really is like a part-time job most days, and I really felt like this series paid off. 

Hopefully I covered everything! To end, here's the most satisfying part of every project for me:

Thanks guys!

#the pact stuff #b:rants #about me #bts fluff #bts dating au #ot7 bts #bts x reader #ot7 bts x reader

[sindrafalcone]

Adventures in Babysitting pt. 3

Fandom: BIGBANG/ Choi Seung Hyun x reader

Synopsis: A babysitting job turns into something unexpected…

Warnings: Fluff for now, but it will evolve into something steamier in a later chapter. You’ve been warned!

Author’s Note: It has been entirely too long since I updated this story! My apologies... But I finally think I’m un-stuck on the storyline, so hopefully I can finish it in a reasonable amount of time. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.

Masterlist

Part 1   Part 2

You had only made it about half a block before Seunghyun stopped dead in his tracks. When he quit moving you did as well, peering at him to see if he was okay. Between the dim city lights and his face mask you couldn't make out very much, but he was still holding on to your hand so that had to count for something. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he spoke softly. “This place that you're taking me...” his deep voice trembled a little bit. “Is it going to be very busy?”

You were a little taken aback by the clear apprehension in his voice. But then you remembered how happy he'd been when you had given him his space back at the museum. Maybe he just didn't like crowds.

“Sometimes it can be.” you admitted. “Usually around lunch time, but this late at night I doubt there's very many people in there. It's just a small Mom & Pop shop.” He seemed to take a moment to think about what you said & you patiently waited  for what he was going to say next. Perhaps he was getting cold feet about having dinner with you and just wanted to go back to the hotel instead.

“I still want to go with you.” he said, as if reading your mind. “I just... um, do you know if they have a private room?”

“Yeah...” you answered him hesitantly, not really seeing where he was going with this. “There's a medium sized room in the back of the restaurant that can be reserved for parties or large groups.”

“Do you think maybe you could call ahead and ask if we could eat in there?” Seunghyun shifted his weight back and forth from foot to foot nervously. “I'll be happy to pay extra if they want. Or if that's not available, we'll need a table in the very back, preferably as far away from other people as possible.”

You looked at him closely for a bit before taking out your phone. You decided he was being completely serious and you had the fleeting thought that he might actually have a phobia about this. “Okay... give me a minute.” you relented & you could finally see the tension in his shoulders relax as you did so. He let go of your hand so you could make the call and you found that you missed his warmth more than you wanted to admit.

Luckily for him, you were very good friends with the owners. You had been eating lunch there almost every day since you'd found the place a couple years back. The food was good and relatively cheap, especially once they had started giving you the 'family discount' even though you had tried to object. In a matter of minutes, you had secured the private room for you and Seunghyun to use. You brought up his willingness to pay a fee, but the owner just laughed at you. Telling her that you'd be there soon, you hung up only to find him looking at you anxiously.

“We can use the private room.”

“Oh, good.” he sighed, relief obvious in his voice. “That usually works out much better.”

You really wanted to question him about this whole thing, but decided that it might be better to wait until you were actually in the restaurant or maybe even back at the hotel before deciding to pry into his apparent agoraphobia. This time Seunghyun held his hand out for you to take & you stared at it in shock for a few seconds before gleefully interlacing your fingers again and setting off once more towards your destination for food.

When you rounded the corner and pulled him in the direction of the restaurant, he stopped once again.

“Pho?” he said, a curious tone to his voice. “You're taking me out for Pho?”

You turned to face him, not letting go this time. “Is that a problem?”

“No...” he smiled & you could see it in his eyes, despite the face mask he still wore. “I'm pleasantly surprised. That's all.”

“Well come on then.” you told him, playfully tugging him along towards the door. “I'm starving!”

He chuckled and the two of you tumbled into the warmth of the Pho shop holding hands, laughing and pink cheeked from the cool outside air.

“You didn't tell me it was a date!” the woman who stood at the counter exclaimed loudly. “_______! You should have warned me.”

“It isn't... we're not...” you stammered, looking down at your interlocked hands. You attempted to pull away, but Seunghyun just held tighter and chuckled louder.

“Nonsense! I know a date when I see one.” she dismissed as she motioned for the two of you to follow her to the room in the back. “I wondered why you wanted to use the party room. You should have just said, dear!”

Thankfully you noticed that the restaurant was mostly empty as she walked you through it, so there weren't very many witnesses to your embarrassment and none that you recognized.

She opened the door and gestured the two of you inside. “Here, just sit at the smaller table in the middle of the room. It will be more intimate that way.”

Beside you, Seunghyun made a small choking sound as she continued fussing. “I wish you had told me it was a date when you called. I would have set up some candles or something.”

“It's fine.” you told her, voice cracking a bit. “It'll be fine just like this.” You all but ripped your hand away from Seunghyun's and started to take off your coat, but before you made it very far you felt his hands slide over yours to remove it for you. Then he draped it carefully over a nearby empty chair before he set about sliding out of his own outerwear.

“Such a  gentleman!” the old lady exclaimed, hearts practically dancing in her eyes as she backed out of the room. “I'll be back with your drinks shortly.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, you rounded on Seunghyun and hissed. “What the hell was that?”

He held his hands up innocently, face mask still dangling from one long-fingered hand. “What?” he asked, laughing slightly, his eyes lit with mirth.

You plopped down into a chair inelegantly. “I was trying to let go of your hand and explain to her that this wasn't a date...”

“Is it not?” he interrupted, setting his mask down on top of his coat. “She's right, it does look like a date. And, you have to admit, it's slightly less awkward than the truth... that you're my babysitter.” he put a special emphasis on that last word that made you squirm in your seat a little bit.

“True...” you agreed.  “I suppose when you put it like that...”you started, but Seunghyun held his hand up to you again just as he had earlier in the evening at the hotel. And, just like before, you stopped talking.

“But that isn't what's important right now.” he told you as he pulled out a chair and sat down in the seat across from you.

“It isn't?”

“No.” he said, his face utterly serious, all traces of joking gone. “It's probably best that she thinks it's a date. But I have to tell you something before she gets back.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table so you could give Seunghyun your full attention. He leaned forward as well, until your faces were mere inches apart.

“___________.” he whispered your name. “I have a confession to make. I'm not...” he took a deep breath and blew it out. “I'm not who you think I am.”

“A rich, foreign guy with impeccable fashion sense who knows his wine and appreciates contemporary art?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, spilling all the details that you'd managed to piece together over the past few hours you'd spent with Seunghyun (or at least all the observations that you were willing to admit to him, anyway).

He flashed you a dangerous smile. “Well, yes... I am those things. But that's not all of who I am and you need to know the vital details before...”

The door the room slid open again, interrupting whatever Seunghyun had been about to say & he cursed quietly under his breath. You watched as he leaned back in his seat and winced, seeming to brace himself for something he knew was inevitably coming. From the pained expression on his face, it didn't look as if he expected it to be pleasant.

“I've got your usual right here. Iced Vietnamese coffee and a glass of water. I brought the same for your gentleman, I hope that's okay.” the older lady said as she bustled over towards you. “Now, do you two love birds need menus or...” her voice trailed off as she finally made it to the table and caught a clear view of Seunghyuns face, without his mask. “Oh my...” her voice faltered, the tray immediately started shaking in her hands.

“Ma'am...” Seunghyun said tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes still closed.

“Oh my goodness!” she practically yelled, her voice echoing slightly in the almost empty room. “Y- y- you're... T.O.P!” she whispered those last three letters as if they were some sort of secret.

You just looked between the two of them, completely lost as to what was going on. “Um, Mrs. Tran?” you placed a hand carefully on her arm to get her attention away from Seunghyun.

“Yes, dear?” she asked, still looking at him with sheer disbelief written all over her elderly face.

“You might want to set the tray down before you drop it.” you told her gently.

“Oh, yes... good idea.” she replied, voice weak.

She did finally manage to set the tray down on the table with a little help from you.

Seunghyun sighed, opened his eyes & smiled at the old woman. It was a polite smile, but tight. Something that someone who hadn't spent much time with him probably wouldn't notice as a fake smile, but you could see it nonetheless.

“Mrs. Tran...” he soothed, having picked up her name from when you'd said it. “Tonight, I'm not T.O.P. I'm just Seunghyun, trying to enjoy a normal date with the lovely ________,  here. I'm happy to sign as many autographs as you want and I'll even mention this restaurant on my Instagram if you'd like a boost in business. But I'd appreciate it if you could keep my visit here a secret for now. And please, no pictures.” Seunghyun gestured over to you. “I'd like to keep our date as private as possible.”

You were so confused right now, but Mrs. Tran seemed to understand what was going on. It was as if a light bulb immediately went off over the little woman's head and she smiled knowingly. “Oooohhhhh, I get it. Don't worry, you aren't the first celebrity we've had in here. It's just been a very long time and you caught me off guard, that's all. I know how to be discreet.”

“Thank you.” he said with a little bow towards her that made her giggle like a school girl and blush.

“Now that's settled...” she clapped her hands together excitedly. “Menus?”

“I think I'll trust __________ to order for both of us. She obviously knows this place quite well.” Seunghyun said with a wink in your direction.

“Um...” you faltered, still reeling from their entire conversation, not to mention the fact that he had just referred to you as 'lovely'. 'Celebrity?' you thought quickly to yourself. 'What the hell is going on here & what have I gotten myself into?!?' you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Is there anything you don't want to eat?” you asked him. “Or are you allergic to anything?”

Seunghyun smiled. “I'm allergic to peaches & I don't eat intestines. Other than that, I'm fair game.” he said, already reaching for a glass of water from the tray.

You nodded at him at turned back to face Mrs Tran. “Just double my usual then.”

“So...” she pulled out an order pad and pen from her apron. “A double #4 and two medium # 45's?”

“Actually, make those #45's a large please. We're both kinda hungry tonight.” you said without thinking of the implications of that sentence.

“Oh, I bet you are.” she sassed under her breath as she walked away, causing Seunghyun to almost snort water out of his nose. Mrs. Tran merely hummed happily to herself as she walked out of the room. As soon as the door shut, you could hear her yelling in Vietnamese, presumably to her husband who was in the kitchen.

You briefly thought about immediately grilling Seunghyun about this whole “celebrity” business, but as you remembered the look on his face as he braced himself earlier, you paused. You never wanted to see that look from him directed at you. So instead, you settled for pouring the coffee that had just finished steeping over the ice & sweetened, condensed milk in the other glass.

“Are we going to talk about this or would you rather pretend that whole scene never happened?” you asked, not trusting yourself to look at him.

A few seconds ticked by before he answered quietly. “You'd be willing to do that? Just ignore everything she said about me?”

You shrugged, stirring your coffee to combine it with the milk. “I mean... I'll admit to being curious. But it obviously bothers you & I was just fine with not knowing before.”

Seunghyun sighed heavily before pouring his own coffee. “Right now, I'm just Seunghyun to you. A rich, foreign guy with impeccable fashion sense who knows his wine and appreciates contemporary art.” he smirked. “If I tell you everything, that changes.” he said, his voice melancholy.

“It doesn't have to.” you told him softly. “Let's try this... You tell me your secret, and I'll tell you mine.” you said, finally looking up and locking eyes with him.

That statement seemed to intrigue him and he arched an eyebrow up at you. “You have a secret double life too?”

“Saying it like that makes it sound like I'm a superhero or something.” you laughed & smacked him playfully on the arm. “But, yeah... there are things that you don't know about me yet. Maybe not as big of a bombshell as yours, but still... something that might change the way you see me too.”

“How about we wait until after dinner?” he asked tentatively.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Interrupting the conversation, Mrs. Tran came back into the private room, bringing two large bowls of pho over and deposited a plate with bean sprouts, sprigs of basil and quarters of limes on the table; along with four egg rolls and two bowls of dipping sauce.

Seunghyun inhaled deeply. The aroma of the broth and the slices of rare beef and shrimp wontons floating atop the long rice noodles making his stomach growl once again. “This smells amazing.”

Mrs. Tran just giggled at him again. “You know, I didn't even realize Bigbang was in town...” she started before he held up a finger to his lips.

“Technically, we're not.” he whispered. “We're just... having a bit of a vacation that's all. Very hush-hush.”

“Ohhhhhh.....” she nodded knowingly. “I guess everyone needs a break sometimes. Well, I will just leave you two alone. I'll be back later to check in on you.” and without another word, she was gone.

Seunghyun started plucking the basil leaves off one of the sprigs, rolling them up and then ripping them into little pieces and dropping them in his soup while you watched him, completely mesmerized by the movements of his fingers.

“I guess you've had Pho before then?” you asked, taking an egg roll from your plate before tearing it in half, dipping it into the sauce & taking a bite.  

Seunghyun nodded, “It's been a while though. So, thanks for bringing me here.” he told you sincerely, picking up an egg roll with his chopsticks and dipping it before taking his own crunchy bite.

“Show off...” you muttered, grumpily picking up your own chopsticks and spoon just to show him that you did, in fact, know how to use them.

Seunghyun merely laughed.

The two of you spent the next hour simply eating and discussing the art and artists from the museum exhibition. Conversation flowed between you effortlessly & before you knew it, Mrs. Tran was bringing in the check and fortune cookies.

Seunghyun pulled out his wallet and when you tried to object, reminded you that you'd paid for the taxi earlier. You caught a glimpse of the black card he held between his long, slender fingers & swallowed hard, nodding your head in acceptance.

You both made the decision to take the fortune cookies back to the hotel and, after Seunghyun spent some time signing the promised autographs for Mrs. Trang, you left the restaurant the same way you'd come in... laughing and holding hands.

Only this time, you were headed back to the hotel and a discussion that could possibly change everything between the two of you.

#Choi Seunghyn #T.O.P #kpop fanfic #bigbang fanfic #choi seunghyun fanfic #T.O.P fanfic #t.o.p bigbang #BIGBANG TOP

[bluenet13]

It's All In Your Head (Chapter 1/2)

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Characters: Matthew Casey, Sylvie Brett, Kelly Severide, Stella Kidd, Wallace Boden, Firehouse 51.

Prompt: Hair Matted with Blood

Summary: Post-ep to S09E09 "Double Red." Casey's life continues to spiral as his friends worry around him; or what happens when no one notices Casey is struggling and our captain is too stubborn to ask for help. AKA, I enjoyed the ep but needed more angst, h/c, and Brettsey, so I'm fixing it.

Links: ff.net / AO3

Playing basketball with Severide probably wasn't his greatest idea, because by the end of just one round with Stella's new arcade machine, Casey's head is throbbing and the whole room is spinning.

Barely suppressing a grunt, he stumbles backwards until his back hits the column in the middle of their loft. Taking advantage of Stella and Severide being focused on their new furniture, he takes a second to rest his head on the pillar. Eyes sliding closed as he massages his temples, another barely suppressed grunt escaping his lips when he touches the swollen and tender spot on the side of his head. Moving his finger around the area, Casey makes a mental note to take a shower before work the next day as he can still feel the cut from when his head hit the ground and dried blood sticking to his hair around it.

As soon as the machine plays the sound that signals game over, Casey quickly opens his eyes and rights himself. His mask continuing to slip away as his pain continues to increase.

Turning towards the kitchen, Casey does his best to avoid his roommates' stares as their eyes search the place where he had just been standing. He moves quickly to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, before he gingerly makes his way to his room.

"Going already?" Severide shouts from the living room.

"Yeah, man. Just tired. So I'll grab a quick nap before beating you again. God knows you need some alone practice," Casey says, trying to get the attention off him, while doing his best to sound convincing and not slur his words.

"Are you okay, captain?" Stella asks carefully, knowing how the boys get when you fuss over them. She is standing a few feet away from her boyfriend and is looking at Casey with clear worry in her eyes. They're all usually tired after a shift but their last one wasn't particularly bad and Casey always likes to take advantage of his days off to do some construction or work around the apartment. And it wasn't even 6pm. Definitely early for Casey to turn in.

"Yeah, yeah. All good. As I said, just tired. I'll see you both later. You guys enjoy yourselves," Casey says, throwing what he hopes is a reassuring wink their way, and making a point to hide the side of his head where blood might be visible.

Stella nods, but she can't shake the feeling that something is off. The previous day's events play on her head and she wonders if the accident did more damage to Casey than everyone thought.

Turning to her boyfriend as soon as Casey's door clicks shut, Stella grabs his shirt and draws Severide to her. "Did Casey seem off to you?" She wonders, not able to stop herself.

"Hmm, honestly? Since that night last fall, he always seems a little off," Severide answers sincerely. Both automatically knowing which night he's referring to.

Thinking back to the last few months, Stella can't help but agree. Remembering how the captain tends to spend his free time on shift closed down in his quarters, and how often he loses his cool and snaps at people now. Not to mention, how little they see of him at home, with Casey spending most of his days off working his construction job or locked inside his room. His occasional trips to Molly's usually ending soon after Brett makes an appearance with Grainger.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Stella concedes eventually. She then grabs the basketball and proceeds to put the ball in the net from where she's standing. "Come here and let me school you. And maybe next time you can actually beat Casey," she teases, picking up the basketball and scoring another point.

Severide mumbles something under his breath but he's smiling to himself as he stares at his girlfriend proudly. He waits until she's done, beating both his and Casey's scores in the process, before he takes her hand and pulls her alongside him towards their bedroom.

-x-x-x-

As soon as the lock clicks shut behind him, Casey slides down the door. The short walk to his room left him winded, and made his headache evolve to include nausea and a ringing in his ears that makes him feel as if his PASS device is active. But unlike in that scenario, there is nothing to turn off now because this sound comes from within, as his skull seemingly threatens to break in two.

Taking a tentative sip of water, Casey stops as his stomach tries to revolt. Closing his eyes, he takes slow, deep breaths willing the nausea to pass so he can drink enough water to down the two pills he managed to grab without Severide or Stella noticing. Now wishing he also had the presence of mind to grab some nausea medication from the kitchen.

After minutes tick by and his symptoms don't ease at all, Casey decides to forgo the water and just down the two pills dry. They scratch his throat but, at this moment, he couldn't care less.

With a groan, he then drags himself through the floor and awkwardly climbs into his bed. Not even bothering to take his clothes off and just collapsing into the mattress. Hopefully a good night's sleep in his own bed is all he needs and he will wake up feeling refreshed and like the last two days had just been a bad dream.

-x-x-x-

He doesn't.

Sleep is elusive all night long. And he spends the whole night tossing and turning because of the pain in his head, and then having to take deep breaths to calm his worsening nausea because of all the tossing and turning.

His awake moments also mix with dreams of cars and sad smiles. Leaving him feeling even more miserable and exhausted than the night before. So much that the last two days do in fact feel like a bad dream, while this night feels like a full-blown nightmare.

-x-x-x-

The following morning, knocking on the door wakes up Casey, and he groans as soon as his eyes land on the clock sitting on his nightstand. He's late for work.

"Case? You alright? We need to leave soon or we're going to be late." Severide's voice comes from outside his room and Casey briefly wonders if it's too late to call in sick. He feels like hell but all things considered he should probably feel thankful he's still alive and that his head is still in one piece. Even if it feels like someone is trying to crack it open from the inside.

"Sorry, man. Just getting ready. Give me a minute," Casey shouts, wincing as his own voice hurts his head. With no time to shower, he just spends a couple minutes getting ready in the bathroom, mostly trying to fix his hair that's sticking up in every direction.

"Let's go," Casey says, stumbling out of his room, and going directly to the front door so his roommates have no time to take in his appearance.

Or so he hoped. "Are you really okay? You look like hell, and you're wearing the same clothes you had yesterday." Severide asks. "And is that blood on the side of your head?"

Looking down at himself, Casey frowns, taking in his wrinkled look, before moving his hand to the spot where he knows the cut is and sighing as he can feel new crusted blood around his hair. He must have reopened the wound with all his tossing and turning the night before. "Didn't have time to do laundry. Will get on that after shift. And why would I have blood? It's probably red paint from my construction job yesterday." Casey settles on the first excuse that comes to mind, hoping they're already so late that Severide won't have time to question him further. "I was working on a barn," he adds as an afterthought, shaking his head and promptly regretting the movement as it intensifies the pounding on his skull.

Severide and Stella look at each other. Both knowing Casey is not the type to neglect his housekeeping duties, and also remembering the captain had actually done laundry last weekend. But, they're both more worried about what looks nothing like red paint and definitely like blood on the side of Casey's head.

Does he really think he can fool a squad lieutenant and firefighter/paramedic/future lieutenant? Stella seems to ask as she shares a look with Severide.

Severide nods, then shrugs and walks to the kitchen, grabbing a styrofoam mug and a plate with toast and eggs. "Here, we left some breakfast for you. You can eat in the car."

Casey's stomach does a backflip at the sight of the food and he has to use a lot of his remaining energy just to push his nausea down. "Thanks, man. But not really hungry. I will just take the coffee," he says casually, trying to sound normal.

Severide and Stella share another knowing look, but both decide to let it go for now, instead Severide sets the plate on the fridge and passes the cup to Casey. Then everyone grabs their keys and bags and they're out the door.

For a moment, Severide worries that maybe he's imagining things and Casey is totally fine. But looking at Stella out of the corner of his eye, noticing his own worry reflected in her brown eyes, he decides to trust his intuition and ask her about it later. He has been Casey's best friend for a long time and he knows they need to tread carefully when it comes to the man sharing his feelings and opening up about what's ailing him. Because something clearly is.

For his part, Casey is barely able to follow Severide and Stella down the stairs and towards the parking lot, and in his struggle, has the sudden, very obvious realization that he shouldn't work like this. All his energy is going into just taking one step after the other and he's in no condition to be anyone's captain today. But he made it this far so he can at least make it home. Once he's there, he can just tell Chief Boden he's not feeling well and spend the day out of the field and doing paperwork. It would be good for Stella too. She can be truck lieutenant and get some more preparation for her upcoming exams.

With that decision made, Casey then spends the next half hour sitting quietly in the backseat of Severide's car. The cup of coffee getting cold in his hand after his first tentative sip was received with his body threatening to throw up. What exactly, he wouldn't know, given he had skipped both lunch and dinner the day before.

When Severide parks his car in the street in front of Firehouse 51, Casey takes a second to close his eyes and compose himself, then slowly gets out of the car and makes his way inside. Not sparing his roommates a single glance.

Ignoring everyone who is already in the common room, Casey walks directly to the bathroom and closes himself inside a stall. After taking a minute to make sure there's no one inside, he finally lets go and proceeds to try to throw up the emptiness in his stomach. With nothing to come out, Casey just coughs and dry heaves. By the time he's done, he is sweating and shaking. And not for the first time realizes he's in no condition to go out into the job. Matt Casey has never been particularly good at self-preservation but he is the best at protecting the lives of the firefighters and paramedics under his command, and he would never willingly put their lives in danger.

Moving to the sink, Casey washes his face and mouth, before reaching inside the stall for his discarded bag and taking off his now sweat soaked t-shirt and changing into his white captain's shirt. He spends the next five minutes carefully scrubbing the blood that's matting his hair, before he arranges it in such a way that it covers the cut on his left side. Then taking deep, calming breaths, he schools his features and exits the bathroom.

As soon as he turns the corner towards Chief Boden's office, Casey collides with Severide and he can't help the grunt that escapes his lips. "Here you are. I've been looking for you. Case, are you sure you're okay?" Severide asks, concern evident in every single one of his words.

"Yes, man. Stop worrying. You're acting worse than Stella last time you got hurt," Casey says, as the previous day, trying to take the attention off him and direct it back to his roommate.

Severide says nothing, but looks at his best friend intently. Easily noticing how tired he looks and how the dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than anytime in the last few months. His skin also looks flushed, cheeks reddish, and he keeps squinting at him. Casey hasn't particularly looked good since his failed night with Brett, but he looks like shit now. But before Severide can steel his resolve and call him out, Casey seems to dismiss him with a shake of his hand and continues on his way.

"Going to speak with Chief Boden, I will see you later," Casey offers, then he is gone.

-x-x-x-

"Casey, good morning. What can I do for you?" Chief Boden asks from his desk, signaling for Casey to close the door and sit down.

"Hi Chief, I wanted to request the day off," Casey begins, but stops at the shocked look on his chief's face and the sudden way his eyebrows go up. Casey knew it was uncommon for him to voluntarily request time off but he wasn't expecting his chief to look so surprised. "Must have eaten something bad yesterday because my stomach is not agreeing with me today," he lies, inwardly wincing.

Matt Casey never lies, but sometimes he likes to color the truth. After all, his stomach is really not agreeing with him. And, as if trying to add more truth to his statement, Casey's stomach does another flip.

"Alright, Casey. I will tell Stella to take command of truck for the day and you go home and rest. Let me know if I can do anything to help," Boden agrees easily. A small seed of worry settling deep inside him because his captain rarely takes himself off the lineup voluntarily. But if he says it's just a bad case of spoiled food, there's nothing he can do and they just need to let time do its magic.

"Thank you, sir. But, if you're okay with it, I'd prefer to stay here. I can just lie down in my quarters for a bit, then take advantage of the time to get ahead on some paperwork," Casey proposes, knowing his situation is a lot more complicated than food poisoning. He doesn't want to go to the hospital as he fears this might be the time the doctor mentioned where another head injury could really put a damper on his career as a firefighter. And even if he hopes that this will all resolve on its own with time, he would still like to be close to an ambulance and paramedics in case it all turns worse before it gets better.

As it turns out, he does have some sense of self-preservation after all.

"Whatever you think is best, Casey. But if you're feeling worse, don't hesitate to go home. Or ask Brett or Mackey to check you out. They can give you something to make you feel better," Boden instructs. Like always being the type of leader that likes to point out what he believes to be the right path, but ultimately, wanting to give the men and women under his command the chance to decide for themselves.

Casey nods, even knowing that Brett is the last person he would ask for help right now. He almost did yesterday, then spent the whole night dreaming with her sad eyes when he had broken her heart. Being honest with himself, he knows he wants nothing more than to talk to her and let her comfort him. But he has done enough damage already; now she wants space, and the least he can do is give that to her.

"Thank you, chief." Casey bids his boss farewell before he walks straight to his quarters. Closing the door and lowering the blinds, then promptly falling face first onto his bed.

Five minutes later the alarms go off, calling all five units to a vehicular accident. The alarms and sirens only intensify the throbbing in Casey's head and a sob escapes his lips as he tries to shield himself from the noise by covering his head with his pillow. When the room is back to silence, he sighs in content, glad he doesn't have to get up and worry about being Captain Casey right now. At this moment, he has more than enough just worrying about how he feels like he is dying.

Barely shaking his head, Casey wills those thoughts away from his mind and closes his eyes. With the whole firehouse out on a call, he can finally get some rest and hopefully this time actually wake up feeling better than before.

-x-x-x-

After Casey more than dismisses him and walks to the Chief's office, closing the door behind them, Severide has the familiar need to follow him and find out what's going on. But he doesn't want to get on his friend's bad side, so instead, he follows the path where Casey came from, and decides to find some clues on his own.

Seeing the locker room empty and intact, Severide walks into the bathroom and quickly notices the discarded cup of coffee on the trash. The entirety of the black liquid spilled on the bag. Sighing, Severide decides to go wait for Casey outside of Boden's office so he can talk to him about it. Something is clearly wrong with him, and Severide needs to do something about it before Casey's stupidity lands him in trouble. Severide knows he's not great at taking care of himself, but some days he thinks Casey is even worse.

Getting to Boden's office, Severide finds the door open and the chief alone working on some paperwork. Briefly considering talking to Boden about it, Severide eventually decides he doesn't want to go over Casey's head, so he turns around and walks to the officer's quarters.

From a distance, Severide can already see that Casey's door is closed and the blinds are down, so he's probably inside, but before he has time to knock on the door the alarms go off as they're all called to an accident downtown. Staying in place for a few seconds, Severide waits to see if Casey will come out so he can make sure he's really okay before they go into a scene. But there's no movement inside, and Casey never comes out.

Hearing the engines of the trucks, Severide shakes his head and runs towards the apparatus bay, coming face to face with Boden as soon as he exits the door.

Seeing all of truck, but Casey, sitting at their usual spots, and the seat next to Stella empty, Severide turns to his chief. "Sir, is Casey alright?" Casey can get pissed off if he wants, Severide thinks. After all, he wouldn't need to be asking their boss if the idiot had just opened up to his best friend and roommate, instead of avoiding all his questions.

"He said he has food poisoning, and requested the day off. Stella, you're in charge of truck today," Boden all but shouts, both answering Severide's question and informing the rest of the house that they will be going to work without their captain today.

Food poisoning? Severide wonders, scrunching his face when he remembers he hadn't seen Casey eat anything since the day before yesterday. Something is clearly up and he will find out as soon as they're back from this call.

Nodding, Severide jumps into the squad truck and turns on the sirens as Cruz hits the gas. For a brief moment, as he passes the apparatus floor, he catches Stella's eyes, and again, sees his own worry reflected in them. They briefly spoke when they got to the firehouse, and even though Stella also felt something was off, they both agreed this might all be in their heads and was just another side-effect of Casey's current distance from Brett. Still, they can't help but worry. And if that wasn't enough, Severide then turns to Brett, who's sitting on the driver's side of ambo 61, and sees an unasked question on her gaze, her face also showing concern.

-x-x-x-

Sylvie Brett prides herself on always being ready to do her job and help whoever is in need. Or rather, almost always. Because a certain fire captain has the uncanny ability to draw her thoughts away from the job and towards his beautiful blue eyes and deep gaze. Even when the man is not even in the same space, her mind is an expert in conjuring his face whether she wants to or not.

So now, even as she exits the ambulance and goes to the back to find her med bag, Brett tries to catch Severide or Stella's eyes. At any other time, they would be the ones seeking answers from her, but nowadays, she knows Casey is much more likely to share personal details with his roommates than with her. It's not the first time she has that thought, and as every time before, a sad smile escapes her lips with the realization.

Brett can't deny that she is in love with Casey and wants to be more than friends with him, but mostly, she just misses her best friend. And wishes things would go back to normal, when they would communicate like no other, and share with each other what neither dared share with the rest of the world. That's how she knew that whatever was happening now, wouldn't be happening at all if she hadn't sought Casey that night. Then she wouldn't have asked that question, and he wouldn't have broken her heart with the power of his honesty alone.

Shaking her head, Brett gives up trying to attract Severide or Stella's attention and instead focuses on the current call. Grabbing every instrument and item she might need, she follows Mackey to the accident, and together they stand to the side, while squad works on getting the victims out of the three cars involved in the crash, and truck, minus Casey (as her mind helpfully points out), works on extinguishing the few flames that had already sparked and making sure no others join.

When that's done, Brett and Mackey do quick work of taking care of the victims and getting them stable while they wait for additional ambulances to come and help them transport the victims to Gaffney Chicago Medical Center. Only for that brief moment she forgets about Casey, taking some time to stare at the young paramedic, her partner for two more shifts, as she ponders why another partner is leaving her. Maybe she's a good paramedic, and just not a good leader? Because there has to be some reason why no partner is able to stick with her for more than 2 years, while the previous Ambo's 61 PIC was able to spend years with just Shay and then Brett. Apparently Casey is not the only one who prefers Dawson.

Sirens getting closer draw Brett away from her own pity party and she joins Mackey in letting the new paramedics know the state of the victims they just treated and helping them get everyone inside an ambulance. As she proudly stares at Mackey, hearing her confidently recite all the patients' stats and known injuries, Brett makes it a point to remember to congratulate the young woman again and wish her good luck in her new house.

That thought also makes Brett realize that even in a very small way, she's still a part of Mackey's success and the fact she so quickly got the recognition she deserved by being considered for a future PIC job, an achievement which took Brett more than a few years. She should feel proud of that, for both of them. Plus, she's always been good, some would even say great, at her job. So there's no reason for Brett to be feeling down on herself.

But then she remembers Casey, and her conviction crumbles. Whatever is happening to him now wouldn't be happening if she hadn't let their personal lives mix with their jobs. And even if it is just food poisoning, which she doubts, it would still be her fault, because any firefighter should feel like they can reach out and ask her for help, however minor the injury or illness might be. And Casey clearly hadn't thought he could. But then again, he had tried to ask her a question during the last shift. It hadn't been her fault that, as usual, they got interrupted, but it was her fault not to ask him about it later.

Same as it was her fault that she didn't check Casey after the incident last call. And deep down in her gut, she is certain that is the real problem of whatever is happening to him now.

Sighing, Brett forces her mind to return to the present and closes the door of Ambo 61 after Mackey climbs inside next to the stretcher. For now, she will focus on doing her job to the best of her ability, but she knows something is up, and she will find out what, as soon as they're back at 51.

-x-x-x-

Again, Casey doesn't wake up feeling better than before. In fact, the pain in his head now reaches a new level of misery and the room is spinning so much that just getting out of bed is a struggle.

Closing his eyes, Casey pictures what he remembers of his small quarters and tentatively makes his way to the door. Resting his head on the wood as he wills the world to stop moving.

Opening his eyes again, he unlocks the door and slowly makes his way to the common room in search of Brett, Mackey or anyone that can help him. But the room is empty and with a sinking feeling he realizes the call lasted longer than expected or maybe he just didn't sleep all that much.

But then Casey hears the telltale sound of the firehouse's units and his friends' voices and with the last of his energy follows the noise to the apparatus bay. Every step is a new challenge and by the time Casey crosses the threshold and stands on the garage, the ache in his head has worsened. He moves a hand to message his temple, hoping to alleviate the ache in his head and frowns when his fingers come back sticky with blood.

When the trucks and SUV are close enough for Casey to see them, or rather, their blurry outlines, he raises his hand, hoping to get Brett or Severide's attention, and in his disorientation, frowns again when he sees blood staining his hand. Wanting to get closer to his family and the only people that can help him now, Casey takes one final step but it's too late and his whole world collapses on him. His dizziness and nausea take over, the room around him disappearing as the blurriness gives way to full-blown darkness and the familiar sounds of the firehouse are reduced to interminable silence.

And before Casey can process anything of what's happening, the world seems to tilt off its axis and he feels himself falling...

#Chicago Fire #matt casey #sylvie brett #brettsey #kelly severide #brett x casey #bad things happen bingo #chicago fire fanfic

[wandas-sunshine]

A Soldier’s Spring - Prologue

Summary: She was one of Hydra’s secret weapons; a female winter soldier. And Bucky can’t let her go through what he did alone. Everything is coming back to her, and he’s the only one that can help her become human again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Description of torture, a painful lack of Bucky in this particular chapter

Word Count: 1008

A/N: This series is going to be a slow burn and hopefully that turns out. Bucky makes his appearance in the next chapter so please stick with me.

“Mission report.” A voice commanded. There were so many people, but that woman in the chair had hardly acknowledged anyone until those words were spoken. She blinked a few times, keeping her head down. The man before her stepped into her personal space. She tensed like she knew she should make a run for it, but she stayed right where she was.

“Sir, she’s been practically unresponsive since she was brought back.” One of the men in lab coats attempted to explain. They’d been concerned about her obedience for some time now. At the beginning she had been a perfect weapon, a perfect soldier. Recently, though, things were changing. She didn’t respond to their questions, she fought when it was time for them to reprogram her brain.

The man twisted a hand into her hair right at her scalp and jerked her head up to meet his stone cold gaze. She hissed almost inaudibly, but didn’t glare or beg him to stop. A look of irritation crossed his features, but just as soon as it had come, it was gone. The man yanked her hair once more for good measure.

“I said ‘mission report’, soldat.” His voice was just as icy as his eyes were. The woman grit her teeth at the discomfort.

“Target terminated. No witnesses. The research was destroyed.” She told him. Her eyes held no fear, no anger. Her voice came out steady and emotionless as if she wasn’t talking about the murder she had just committed. The man released her, and her head dropped down to stare at her lap again.

“Get her injuries fixed up and put her away.” He ordered as the other Hydra agents scattered around the room. They set to it, doctors stepping in to examine her and ensure she was in perfect health.

“Why did I kill that woman?” The brainwashed soldier questioned before the man in charge could walk out the door. It wasn’t a hostile question, but rather the type a toddler would ask about anything and everything. Curious, and all too innocent for a young woman who had just killed a complete stranger.

“She was a threat to all of the good that Hydra has been working towards.” The man explained in response. It was rehearsed, the same thing that she’d heard after her last two missions. “You protect Hydra. You keep people like her from taking down our organization. You saved humanity from inevitable doom.”

The girl shook her head, the most miniscule of movements, so tiny and hesitant that it almost looked like she wasn’t moving at all.

“She was a scientist, she was working with a team to cure cancer.” The soldier told them quietly. She’d read that in the files she was ordered to burn. Top secret research gone up in flames.

“Are you questioning your superiors, soldat?” The man spat. She didn’t reply. It felt wrong, everything felt so wrong. She’d killed a woman who had committed no atrocities. A woman who was dedicating her own life to saving those of millions. That information she’d burned could’ve saved people and instead she’d sentenced them to death. “You should be honored to have helped us. We are saving humankind.”

Once again, the young woman’s head dropped. Her mind was spinning and her chest felt heavy, like someone was trying to crush her. Thoughts were filling her head, thoughts her handlers had most definitely not put there themselves. Questions and worries and terror at the thought of killing people over nothing, or maybe over things she’d never know the use of.

“Wipe her, start over again.” The man ordered. Her eyes widened and her heart hammered a mile a minute in her chest. Her instincts told her to get out. To run, and fight. That going down fighting would be less painful than forgetting everything again. Her training was telling her to tough it out. They’d fried her brain a million times before, this wasn’t going to be any different.

A couple men locked her hands and ankles into place in freezing metal cuffs so that she couldn’t fight like she tended to. Another forced a mouthguard between her teeth. She squeezed her eyes shut as the cool metal pressed against her head.

Then agony.

She wailed through clenched teeth. The scientists and doctors and soldiers weren’t phased in the least by the cries of anguish. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Her limbs seized, she fought desperately against the restraints. They cut through her skin, rubbing her wrists raw and tugging her ankle at an awkward angle as she tried to free herself. Her chest heaved and she sobbed, crystalline tears welling in her eyes.

When it was over, the woman’s head lolled to the side. It was too much for her to move for a moment. She didn’t have the strength to even her breathing, instead she let her lungs suck in ragged breaths until the pain subsided.

You’re alright. You’ll be just fine.

The voice that echoed at the back of her mind, filling the empty silence in her head, didn’t belong to any of the people around her. And she didn’t think it was hers. It made her want to panic. When had she begun wanting something not programmed into her.

Just hold on (Y/N). You’re so strong. So much stronger than their brainwashing. Don’t give in to this.

Then the words were being spoken. The ones that turned her brain into putty for Hydra to mold however they saw fit. She clenched her aching fit, trying to shut out the voice as she always did when they decided it was time to make her obey again. But to her horror she heard every hiss of Russian that came from his lips. He stepped closer, crossing his arms and towering over her.

“Welcome back, soldat.” He spoke coldly. Her head lifted to meet him with empty eyes.

Be strong, (Y/N). They can’t control a force like you.

“Ya gotov otvechat.”

Next Episode

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #avengers #avengers imagine #imagine #fanfic #reader insert #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #a soldiers spring

[willow-salix]

Next chapter is up!! Here's a snippet, as always you can read the rest here on Ao3. Big thanks to my partner in crime @olliepig for reading this and making sure it made sense.

“I could have flown this one handed.”

“I know, but you didn’t need to, you’re supposed to be resting, remember?”

“Being driven by my Grandma is worse than any physical pain.”

“You’re such a...such a…” Selene paused, utterly stumped.

“Hero, handsome devil, a total guy?”

“Toddler.”

“That hurts, Sel, that really hurts.”

“More like it hurts your ego.”

“I can hear you two, you know,” Grandma yelled back at them and they instantly shut up, although they exchanged a little smile.

Grandma was an excellent pilot, especially when she was in her own plane, one that was definitely slower and less luxurious than the ones Scott was used to, but it was doing the job and Selene, much like Penelope, was just happy to be taxied places rather than having to make the effort herself. Concentrating for long periods of time went against her entire hippy style life choices and so she was happy to sit in back and chill.

Scott on the other hand, was not. He was a typical man, one that liked to be in the driving seat, liked to be the one in charge. People thought he was most likely to be heard to say something reassuring like ‘We can handle it,’ but she knew he was more likely to say ‘I’ll drive’. That was him all over, he didn't like to sit back and be at the mercy of someone else, they never drove fast enough, they never drove his way or took the route he wanted and it frustrated him no end.

Scott was a high octane type of guy, he liked fast things, fast planes, fast cars, fast bikes fast food, the faster the better. He liked things that looked sleek and pretty, aerodynamic and cool, not boxy looking old planes with enough room in the cargo hold for the things they were transporting and picking up.

In short he didn’t like this plane, she could see that a mile off, but her car would have been too slow. Unfortunately for him, Grandma wasn’t as comfortable flying one of their jets and Jeff was currently on standby on the Island to take over with One if an emergency call came in, so he had to suck it up.

Selene knew that had been hard on him, even though Jeff had been great in sticking to their unspoken rules of him not taking over or issuing orders without asking their opinion first, but it was still tense whenever a call came in and Jeff was the one to suit up, not Scott.

They had tried to keep Jeff’s involvement in rescues to a minimum, not just to make things easier on Scott while he was stuck on the sidelines but on Jeff too. He wasn’t old by any means, but he certainly wasn’t as young as he had been and he’d been through a lot since his rescue from the Oort cloud and his body had suffered some serious damage that he was still recovering from.

He got tired easily, his reactions weren’t as quick as they had once been and neither were his eyes as sharp. He’d never needed glasses before but now he was often seen with a small pair of reading glasses perched on his nose to read his books or when studying paperwork and sometimes he needed the holograms to be enlarged if they were all watching a movie. Being an old fashioned kind of man he had refused laser correction and was happier to suffer like his mother did.

Scott had been haunting the island like a ghost for the past four weeks, a grumpy, moaning specter that would suddenly appear in whatever room had the most people in it, scowling at nothing and making people miserable just to look at him. Honestly if someone had given him a chain to drag around the look would be complete.

He was working too hard with his physio, pushing himself too far too fast, wanting to be back in One before he was physically ready. Virgil had stepped in and ordered him to take a break, backed up by Grandma, who no one would dare argue with, not even Scott. He’d accompanied Selene on her journey back to England a couple of times so he could spend a few nights with his old flame - who seemed to be more like a current fire from what Selene had seen- but she was now busy, working flat out for the next few weeks and so Selene was back on Scott duty, hence her dragging him along with her and Grandma.

“Remind me what we’re doing here again?” Mr Grumpy Ass asked. His wrist was now out of its air cast, but was still sporting a nice support bandage and a sling for those times when it was aching a lot, his shoulder was almost fully healed, as was his ankle, but his ribs were still aching by the end of the day, so he was not cleared for any lifting or much movement at all really without Virgil or Gordon there to supervise.

“Grandma said there are some things in the attic she needs for the wedding.”

“So, basically you’re dragging me along on a shopping trip?”

“No! There will be no shopping Mr Moody Pants, this is just a chance to chill a bit, dig through some old family stuff and hopefully find what we need. She said her dressmaking form is in there and her old sewing machine-”

“And my old tiara, it was my mother's and my grandmother's before her, I wore it on my wedding day, as did the boys mother, it’s tradition.”

Scott shot a sideways glance at Selene who shrugged. OK, so she wasn't a big one for traditional and had been planning on a simple flower crown, but if it would please Grandma she'd do it.

“We can run into town and go to that steak house you like,” Grandma offered.

“Now you’re talking,” Scott grinned. As ever, he was easily motivated by the thought of a full stomach.

“How much further have we got to go?” Selene asked, having never actually been to the family ranch before. Yep, two years in the family and the few times they had gone she had been busy and unable to go with them, life sucked sometimes.

Scott did that weird guy thing where they barely glance out the window but seem to be able to accurately judge exactly where they were.

“Another hour, give or take,” he sighed deeply and settled back in his seat. “I’m gonna take a nap, wake me when we get there, we’ll do lunch first, I’m hungry.”

#scott tracy #selene tempest #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #witch #john tracy

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Blank Spots [2] PAIRING: (Somewhat pre-established) Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader, could be seen as an OC.  REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you.  WARNINGS: Some creative license for amnesia. Mentions of hypothermia/exposure, head injury. NOTE: Here is the second part to this! Thank you all for the warm response to this, I’m personally having a lot of fun writing this. I feel this chapter is a little slow but hopefully it holds up to expectations. 

“She’s delirious.” 

Susan’s voice was firm, edging along the line of dismissive, as you had left your words hanging in the air before placing your head back down and promptly passing out. She stood to her feet from where she had been crouched next to your body, turning to glance toward Hosea who met her gaze with a questioning look, his brow tight. However, neither of them looked as confused as Arthur did, who remained where he had crouched down in front of you, almost staring holes into the floor beside your head. 

“Trekkin’ through all that snow and that nasty bump on her head? She’s probably just confused,” she continued, pausing to let out a slow sigh that escaped in a light mist from her mouth. This wasn’t the best place to nurse you back to health from almost freezing to death, it was a task alone making sure John didn’t meet the same fate on top of his injuries. 

“Micah’d swore she fell off some cliff edge that night Dutch rode out with us lookin’ for supplies,” Arthur commented, rising up from his place on the floor, “Said there was no way she survived that. Now I’m thinkin’ the bastard didn’t even bother to check.” 

“It was a terrible storm,” Hosea commented around a sigh, “Still is. Might’ve been no way to check, unfortunate as it is that she had to drag herself back here like she did.” 

“If she even knows where she is, who she’s with…” Arthur muttered, Hosea placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s been a long day,” Susan returned, “Let her rest and get warm, I’m sure she’ll be fine by mornin’ and won’t be talkin’ such nonsense.” 

“Sure.” He didn’t sound too convinced. 

“I think you should go back and get some rest, Arthur,” Hosea said, patting the shoulder he had his hand on before dropping it back to his side, “Nothin’ we can do for her now but let her sleep next to the fire.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her tonight,” Susan said with a nod, crossing her arms. Arthur really wasn’t too keen on leaving you alone, not after thinking you dead for a day. Not after this, and what you had just said. There was also the genuine confusion that had sat in your expression as you stated that you had no idea who any of them were, along with that wound on your forehead. It didn’t bode well. However, they were still stuck up in the snow and he already knew what Dutch would have to say in light of this. 

“Thank you,” Arthur muttered, giving her a soft nod before he turned to walk with Hosea back outside toward the building he was staying in with him, Dutch, and Molly. 

                                                          ***

You felt like you were in and out for quite some time. Things would pop into existence in your otherwise dreamless sleep, bits of conversation that you weren’t sure were dreams or actually part of what was going on around you. Some movement, too, being carried, which had switched into a memory of your uncle carrying you back to the house as a kid at some point. It felt like it was faded around the edges, lacking in detail. There were a couple lucid thoughts that came into everything, remembering staring up at that vast white sky. Though, eventually, things started to be more solid, less fleeting, as you could feel the comforting warmth of the blankets around you. However, with that eventually came the starts of the aches and pains. It started in your legs and back, dull aches that kept pulling you further away from the comforting embrace of sleep. 

It was that pain moving toward your head, breaking out above your left eye and blossoming across your forehead and down into your jaw. It felt like someone was squeezing the sides of your head until eventually you woke with a low groan, taking in a small breath before your eyes cracked open. The room was bright from what you could see through the fabric of the blanket that had been secured around your head, and you could slowly start to feel that your stomach was very empty, making you a little queasy. It was hard to tell where you were for a few moments, though the memory of that fireplace and dirty floor seemed to come back into focus. The concerned faces. 

What the hell was happening? 

Slowly, you managed to shift your limbs, legs stiff and the motion of shifting one over the cot had you gritting your teeth slightly. The room seemed to sway lightly as you sat up, hands gripping into the fabric of the blanket around your shoulders. The room you were sleeping in was...bad, to say the least. You could feel the cold air from outside leaking in around your legs and feet from the holes in the walls, the floor itself littered with debris. The place itself seemed quiet, outside of some light creaking. You could see a broken bedside drawer, and another empty cot with the worn blanket and pillow. 

Though, a chair with a small pile of clothing caught your eye. It took a moment before you could recognize the outfit from when you had last woke, remembering the stiff and frozen gloves that sat on top of it all. Gingerly, you shifted a hand down to rest against your stomach, now just very much aware that you had been stripped down to your undergarments. 

“What in the hell…?” you whispered, letting out a soft grunt as you stood up on slightly wobbling legs from the lack of use and the quick coil of panic that was sitting in your gut. “Where the hell am I?” 

You shut your eyes tightly a moment, despite the throbbing in your head, as you tried to calm yourself and figure out what to do. Last night...the day before...you had woken up in the cold and had...wandered your way into a camp. That had to be where you were, but who were the people who found you? Why did they take your clothes off? 

Some stirring from outside caused your eyes to snap back open, a quick greeting and voice outside causing you to take a couple steps back into the room as you looked around yourself for something to defend yourself with. Unless you were looking to give the owner of the approaching footfalls some splinters, there wasn’t much. So, you took a breath in, feeling your expression tighten as you saw the door to the room pushed open. 

An older woman poked her head in, her own eyes widening as she noticed you standing between the two beds. 

“Well, it’s good to see you’re able to stand…” she commented, “How are you feelin’, miss?” 

“...W-Why am I undressed?” Great first question to start with. 

“I had to take your clothes off,” she remarked, “As the snow started to melt, they were gettin’ wet and Mr. Smith pointed out that it could make things all the worse with how cold things have been ‘round here. There’s no need for alarm.” 

“I...I see,” you muttered, shifting a bit on your feet as you blinked heavily, “I...I’m sorry, thank you for your help. What’s your name?” 

The woman blinked almost owlishly at you for a moment before she let out a soft huff. 

“Susan Grimshaw,” she stated, “Are you still leanin’ into all that?” 

“Into what?” 

“Not rememberin’ us.” 

You let out a humorless huff. “No offense, Miss Grimshaw, but I have no idea who you are.”

There was a moment where she seemed like she might scold you like this was some game you were playing, yet as she stood there and met your serious gaze, her brow seemed to furrow some. With a slow exhale, she shifted to place a hand against your clothing in the chair. 

“...Well, regardless, you’re awake. These are your clothes, we let them dry by a fire so you could wear them once you were done restin’. Dutch and Hosea are outside, so I would get dressed and go talk to them.” 

Dutch and Hosea, like I have any idea who those two are…

You gave her a soft nod before she was stepping out, closing the door behind her. A slow breath escaped your lungs after a moment, your mind racing and stomach twisting. Even with some interaction, you still had more questions than answers. You dropped the blanket back on the cot you had been sleeping on, the cold air immediately pulling a shiver from you. You knew from the pain in your limbs that you were probably bruised to hell in places, but you didn’t want to look in the moment, pulling the clothes back on. They were a little cool to the touch from the air in the room, but they weren’t the frozen pieces of fabric you could remember wearing before you had apparently passed out on that floor. As you finished shouldering on your jacket, the belt shifted and fell onto the floor with a dull thud. There was a gun resting in the holster, a frown crossing your face. 

“This mine…?” you muttered to yourself, bending down to pick it up. You weren’t a stranger to guns, your uncle had been keen to make sure you knew how to use one but you couldn’t remember really getting one of your own. Still, it was with the pile of clothes. You set it back down on the chair, pausing a moment to press your hand against your forehead. You felt some fabric under your fingers, causing you to pause as you tugged on it lightly. 

Bandages? Well, at least some makeshift form of them. 

“Christ…” you whispered, rubbing the sore side of your jaw. With some hesitation, you eventually approached the door and pushed it open to step outside. The building opened up to an equally as run down main area where a couple tables littered with debris and cabinets sat. There were two chairs in front of a fireplace, two men talking among themselves before you had stepped out into the open. You could recognize one of them from the other night, the older man who had been pointing a gun at you before helping you walk into one of the other buildings. 

...Mr. Matthews. Right. 

“Well, our own camp’s sleeping beauty finally woke up,” the unfamiliar man stated, raising from his chair with a small grin tossed your way. His tone was somewhat light, almost teasing, but you didn’t know what reason he had to be so familiar. 

“How long have I been sleeping?” you asked, your brow furrowing. 

“A day,” Mr. Matthews stated, “Are...Do you remember what happened?” 

“Somewhat,” you returned, pausing as the other man approached you, “I’m just...really confused on what is happening.” 

“We are trying to survive and escape his frozen hell, that’s what we’re doin’.” You felt the other man place a hand between your shoulder blades, leading you over toward the fireplace where they were sitting. “Now I’m thinkin’ you was doin’ just that as well.”

“Do you remember what happened to you?” Mr. Matthews asked as you were led toward the vacant chair, welcoming the chance to sit as you gave your still tired legs a rest. 

“Yeah, a bit,” you stated with a soft nod, “Where am I?” 

“An abandoned minin’ town in the mountains,” he replied, “You don’t remember comin’ up here?” 

“Not at all.” 

“...Huh.” 

“You have no idea who any of us are?” the other man asked, crossing his arms. 

“No, I-I’ve been trying to say that all along here…” you returned with some frustration leaking into your own. You watched as Mr. Matthews rubbed at his face, the other man looking over your face a moment before letting out a quick breath. 

“Well this is somethin’, ain’t it?” he muttered. 

“What do you remember?” Mr. Matthews asked, glancing back toward you. 

“I…” you blinked, letting out a sigh through your nose as you tried to keep yourself calm, “I remember...standing outside of my uncle’s home. We were...arguing about something, but I don’t know what. It was hot, dusty. I know I grew up in Tumbleweed, I remember that pretty well. Outside of that...I just woke up at the base of a cliff edge out here, freezing, until I stumbled across this place…” 

“You don’t remember anythin’ about ridin’ with us?” the other man asked, letting his arms fall to his side as he looked at you with a tight expression. 

“No, I...I didn’t even know I did.” 

“That wound on her head, I mean…” Mr. Matthews started, turning to look up at the other man as he ran a hand over his face a moment, brushing his mustache in thought. 

“Can…” you started, feeling the tightness in your gut, “Can somebody just...please tell me what’s going on?” 

In that moment, the door to the building opened, causing you to jump as attention was pulled away from you as another man stepped in. He was clad in a heavy blue coat, black hat resting on his head as he blew into his gloved hands. Though, his eyebrows rose some upon glancing toward where you were sitting. He was that man from the other night, the one who had been crouched down in front of you, looking at you with that concerned expression. Arthur, his name was? 

“Everythin’ okay?” he asked, stepping further into the room once the door had been shut behind him. 

“Depends…” 

“We was just talkin’,” Mr. Matthews started, “Seems like all she’s said the other night is still true.”

There was some tightening of the expression on Arthur’s face, a deep set frown as he seemed to be looking you over intently. You could feel the bubble of panic you had shoved down in the room before starting to surface again. There was a tightness to your gut, your head starting to pound a little more at the sensation. 

“Please,” you snapped, “Please, can somebody just...tell me what the hell is going on here?” 

“...We don’t rightly know,” Mr. Matthews started, causing you to let out another slow breath through your nose as you blinked heavily against the pain in your head, “You...Well, we thought you had died during that snowstorm. Least...that’s what we were told.” 

“You...all seem to know me,” you said, more of a statement than a question, “It’s just...the strangest damn thing.” 

“Well, you did run with us,” the man nearest to you stated, “My name’s Dutch van der Linde, you have no recollection of that?” 

“No. No...Dutch, I don’t.” 

“I’m Hosea Matthews.” Hosea shifted, gesturing a hand toward Arthur. “That there’s Arthur Morgan, you two was...romantically involved. You remember any of that?” 

“I...no. I…” you let out a soft huff, “I’ve never met any of you before in my life.” 

It was almost laughable, in a terrible way. 

You, somehow, seemed to have some rather detailed past with these people, yet you couldn’t even remember their faces or names. It was distressing--how much did you really know? It had you curling your hands in your lap, heart pounding away in your chest. You had been riding with them? You had no memory of that happening. You were involved with Arthur? You had no memory of how you met, when you decided to get into that with him. A part of you almost wanted to accuse them all of playing some sort of game with you, to knock it off. Yet, they all seemed as serious about knowing you as you were about not knowing them. 

“This...is a chance,” Dutch stated, moving about slightly to come to stand between the three of you, “The fact that you survived at all is damn near a miracle. That you made it back to us.” 

“I think you’ll have to forgive her and Arthur for not feeling the same way,” Hosea spoke up, his tone tight. 

“...My head is killing me,” you muttered, your voice smaller than you were expecting, “I just...don’t think I can handle this right now.”

“You should rest,” Hosea stated, “Maybe you’ll be able to remember things a little clearer after you’ve been able to fully heal. You can keep sleeping in Arthur’s room here.” 

Great. Still, you just offered a small nod before gathering yourself back up to a stand to pass by them to wander back into the room. Much as you were confused out of your mind about everything you had just learned, there was a part of you that felt bad more so for Arthur. You weren’t too sure what your relationship with him was, what was involved in it, but a part of you did want to apologize. It wasn’t hard to see the hurt that touched his expression at you stating you had no idea who he was, but it was an apology you really didn’t have the words for. 

There was the light prickling of tears in your eyes once the door to the room was shut behind you, your body aching and there was still the ever present feeling of exhaustion. Yet, whatever strength you had managed to gather had brought more confusion in light of it, and you couldn’t help but wish you had just remained asleep. 

You let out a soft sigh as you sat yourself down on the cot, shutting your eyes a moment. You could hear Dutch and Arthur’s voices somewhat through the door. 

“We need this train, and I need you strong and focused, son.”

“‘Course, Dutch…”

#my writing. #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde. #susan grimshaw

[kaemulti]

(this is for the like five people who liked my post about me writing this 😤✊🏾and i have an AO3 account but i don’t want my kpop fan life and my non kpop fan life to clash right now so hopefully i can post the chapters for this fic here. i hope i’m doing this right, i literally got tumblr like a month or two ago so pls be nice 💀💀)

DEADLY DANCE:

—————————-

Story Summary: Korra Kuruk is an eighteen year old agent of The Air Temple Agency that has been tasked with bringing a rival company’s top teen agent to justice for her crimes. Korra, code name Water Tribe, must figure out what the true identity of the elusive Metal Bender is and what heinous acts her villainous agency is currently planning. How will Korra handle finding out her target is the one person she least expected and what will she do when that same person needs saving?

Deadly Dance : Chapter One : Little Miss Perfect

Kuvira shut her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath through her nose until it filled every inch of her lungs. She slowly let it out once she couldn’t take in any more oxygen and opened her eyes with new determination, deep breath centering her thoughts and calming any nerves that might be lingering. She could feel the whole room’s eyes on her, whole class practically on the edge of their seats as they watched her prepare for the final part of the combination. Kuvira smirked, an evil, sly smirk that would have easily given away her true personality if any of her peers were actually that observant. Fortunately, they were all far to enthralled with her movement, eyes widening as she extended her arms and raised her head. A beat, and she was off, turning and waltzing like she was floating through the air as the music rose in volume. She could feel the sweat running down the sides if her face, causing her skin to itch, but she couldn’t care less, she was electric right now, practically on fire as she completed all the steps without a hitch. Her face never broke from the innocent and vulnerable look of the character she was playing. Her limbs were long and free, passion practically seeping from every pore as the combination came to a close. She ended the fouetté sequence flawlessly, face refusing to show how increasingly uncomfortable her pointe shoes became pain an afterthought to the captivating performance she was seconds away from nailing. With one last turn, she took her ending position, chest slowly rising and falling as the music faded away to silence.

“Absolutely fantastic as always, Kuvira! Everyone please give her a round of applause.” The teacher said enthusiastically, smile wide as she praised her best student.

Kuvira smiled softly as she bowed for the applause from the class. The praise was cut short as the third period bell had rang, meaning they had spent their five minute time period for changing back into their normal clothes watching Kuvira complete the combination.

“Oh, spirits! That’s the bell, sorry I kept you everyone! Hurry and change, those of you headed to lunch should be fine but I’ll write slips for anyone who is going to a class period! Hurry, hurry! Great work today!” The teacher said as her students scrambled around the room.

Kuvira quickly dropped to the floor, hastily taking off her pointe shoes and shoving them into her dance bag. She jogged to the dressing room and begun to change, ripping off her constricting tights and deciding to exchange her bra for her leotard to save time. She finished pulling her skirt on and adjusted her turtle neck, haphazardly slipping on her sneakers as she rushed out of the door.

Luckily for her, the lunch room was only a couple doors down, unluckily for her however, she didn’t pack a lunch and waiting in the line is known to take half of their lunch period. She pushed passed some students in the hallway, raising the tone of her voice to give half hearted apologies as she did so, not that they knew that of course. When she finally made it to the lunch room she scanned the area for the table with her friends, smiling once she caught sight of them.

Being at this school was her least favorite thing ever so the fact she had actually found a couple people that cared enough to talk to her had been a blessing.

“Nice job today, Kuvira!”

“You totally owned that combo! I wish I could dance like that!”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

The praises weren’t new to her so Kuvira simply offered a smile and a couple thank you’s as she reached the table.

“Well if it isn’t the swan princess herself.” Wing teased as she sat down.

“Haha, very funny, Wing. I told you not to call me that when we’re not in practice, especially because we aren’t even doing that ballet this year.” Kuvira said light heartedly as she pulled out her makeup compact.

“My apologies, Great Uniter.” He said with a bow and smirk. The Avatar ballet had been widely requested by everyone in the dance department and Kuvira was beyond happy when she got picked to play the avatar’s ultimate rival, The Great Uniter.

“How was class?” Baatar asked shyly, barely making eye contact with her as he did so.

“It was fine, my feet are killing me but ballet is my second favorite dance class so I don’t mind.” She replied sweetly as she put on her eyeliner.

“I’ll never understand how you can do that so flawlessly, are you just perfect or something?” Wei asked as he practically inhaled one of his spring rolls.

“I wouldn’t say “perfect”, just skilled.” She lied, adding a sharp tail to the liner. She was playing a character right now and, sadly, acting cocky wasn’t in the script.

“I just don’t get how she got here so fast!” Korra panted, placing her backpack on the floor as she slumped on the table. She had gotten lost in the sea of people all trying to get to lunch on time from dance and had to race to avoid the hall monitor.

“Maybe you’re slower than you thought.” Mako joked, offering her part of his sandwich like he always does. He loved Korra to death but that girl was so frantic she basically forgot her lunch three times a week.

“Must you bully me after I almost got trampled in the hallway, again?! I’m hurting.” She pouted, taking her half of the sandwich from him and eating most of it in one go.

“Maybe if you actually started telling Mrs. Xiao when you have five minutes left of class you’d be here on time.” Asami smirked, not even looking up from her chemistry homework to tease the panting girl.

“I would have but she was too busy watching Kuvira prance around the room.” Korra said with her mouth full, rolling her eyes as she thought of the older dancer flawlessly completing that day’s combination.

“I’ll never understand why she gets under your skin so bad, Kor, she’s literally an angel. Honestly, I don’t even think she’d hurt a fly if she had the chance. Besides, you guys are rivals in the ballet, not real life.” Bolin said, blowing on his noodles to cool them down before sucking them up violently.

“And I don’t see why you don’t, just look at her! Being the center of attention every chance she gets.” Korra pouted, gesturing to the girl doing her makeup in her small hand held mirror a couple tables down.

“Are you gonna leave your hair like that the whole day?” Huan asked Kuvira, face contouring to a grimace.

“Shoot, (spirits, she wishes she could’ve cursed) I didnt even notice, thanks, Huan.” She said, placing the compact down so she could dig through her bag for a brush. She always forgot to take her hair out of her ballet bun and Huan, being the guy who was absolutely incapable of staying out of other people’s fashion choices, never let her forget. Kuvira still remembers how she had to force a smile and act like she didn’t want to bust his jaw that one time he said she looked like a snob when her hair was up.

He was right of course, but it still annoyed her.

Kuvira pulled out the brush she was looking for and set it on the table as she started removing the bobby pins from her hair. She smiled a bit to herself as she got the last one out, her favorite part was next, letting her hair down as she felt everyone watch.

She let the bun unravel as she gracefully shook her head, long, dark waves cascading down her back, almost reaching her butt. Honestly, she needed a trim, she’d have to remind Unalaq to make time in her schedule to get one.

Kuvira picked up the brush and ran it through her hair just enough to make it look neat but not enough to brush out the waves. She could feel several eyes on her, both male and female, as she did so. Kuvira wasn’t oblivious, despite how she acted as her character, she knew she was way above average in looks and she liked the eyes on her, craved them even. She opened her eyes and smiled as she caught Baatar looking at her.

Kuvira liked catching him watching her the most because she knew he’d never have a chance with her, no matter how much he wanted one.

“Looks like the line is shorter now, I’m gonna go grab lunch.” She said sweetly, quickly whipping her head around to eye how many people were still waiting in the line. She was fast enough to identify ten sets, five more than last time, of eyes on her before they frantically looked away as she searched for eye contact. She stood up and flipped her hair, strutting to the lunch line with an innocent smile.

“Ok, but it’s not her fault she’s gorgeous, Korra, that’s hardly a reason to hate her.” Bolin said, back at their table, pulling Korra out of her daze as she watched the older girl strut to the lunch line.

“I never said I hated her, she just...bugs me...” Korra replied, crossing her arms with a huff. Ever since the first day Kuvira had transferred to their school something about her seemed too good to be true, leaving a nasty taste in Korra’s mouth when interacting with the older girl.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on her, Kor.” Asami said, finally looking up from her, now finished, homework to quirk her brow at the pouty girl.

“Wha-no. No! I do not have a crush on little miss perfect, sprits!” Korra said, annoyance clear in her voice as she furrowed her brow at her friend’s accusatory tone.

“Whatever you say, you should really just ask her to the formal in two months.” Mako said before he drank from his water bottle.

“I will not! I don’t even like her like that. Tui and La you guys are impossible!” Korra said, standing up from her seat and heading to the lunch line—because she was hungry! Not so she could stand next to Kuvira, she had more dignity than that thank you very much.

“Hey, Kuvira! How are you today?” Ms. Li, one of the lunch ladies said sweetly.

“I am great, Yuyan, thank you for asking. How about yourself?” Kuvira replied politely. That was one thing Unalaq could never shake from her, her manners for people less fortunate than she was. She had spent a lot of time talking to the school staff when she first got this assignment, she would tell her bosses it’s so she could find her target quicker but that was all a lie. To most, she might be considered to be on the wrong side of history, even if she thought that was nonsense, but that didn’t mean she was soulless. She only wanted the best for these people, why would she be cold if she didn’t have to be?

“Well, I could be better, these kids really don’t know how to say a simple please and thank you. It, um, it gets to you sometimes, you know? But, hey, I guess it could always be worse. Thank you so much for ask—Oh! That reminds me, me and a couple of the other lunch ladies made this for you, since you are such a big help around here.” Ms. Li said, reaching behind her to grab a small chocolate cupcake before handing it to Kuvira.

“Thank you so much, it looks delicious.” Kuvira said, accepting the sweet treat and placing it on her tray with the rest of her food.

“Of course! Anything for our favorite student. Congratulations on getting the part of The Great Uniter by the way, we look forward to seeing you shine!” Ms. Li smiled.

Kuvira smiled brightly as she punched in her lunch number, swiping her school card quickly. She appreciated the praise and she new she deserved it, but too much of it could make her uncomfortable. She said one more thank you to Ms. Li and headed back to her table.

As she was walking however, she almost ran right into someone who was clearly not watching where they were going. If she had been anyone else, her tray would’ve went flying, along with the items on it, and there’d be a huge mess, luckily she wasn’t anyone else. She was Kuvira, member of the Metal clan, the most highly trained spy organization in the world, and she’d be damned if she let her special cupcake get squashed. She easily spun around the person, gracefully hoping one of the railings to catch her airborne tray, every single item she had purchased returning to their places. Well, all except her juice box, which was still airborne, about to land on the ground behind her. She whipped her head back around and made a move to catch it but instead saw her onstage rival, The Avatar, played by Korra Kuruk, hopping the same railing to catch the juice box before it hit the ground, her own lunch items fully intact on her own tray despite the vigorous movement.

“I am so sorry about that! Here, wouldn’t want you to lose this.” Korra said apologetically as she held out the juice box to a wide eyed Kuvira.

As soon as they made eye contact Korra seemed to have picked up on what had actually happened, her own eyes going wide as Kuvira snatched the juice box from her hands.

Before either of them could say anything, the pieces finally falling into place and their initial shock quickly flipping to furry, the fire alarm went off, blaring loudly in everyone’s ears and causing several people, excluding Korra and Kuvira of course, to flinch in their seats. They had been trained better than to get startled by a sudden noise.

“Ok, ok, everyone please grab your phones, and I mean only your phones, and exit the building!” One of the lunch monitors said, ushering kids out of the back entrance so they could head to the field.

Both girls glared at each other, breath heavy in a rage as they did so, before going their separate ways to their respective tables. Kuvira grabbed her phone and followed Baatar out of the lunch room, not bothering to look back at Korra. Nobody at her table asked questions, not having been paying attention to Kuvira when she left the table.

Korra however, returned to a table full of wide eyes and slacked jaws, her friends having watched the whole ordeal after Korra bailed at the mention of a crush.

“That was some ninja shit, Korra! Wh- How- When! When did you even learn how to do that?!” Wu asked, most likely coming off of his hall monitor shift to eat lunch with them moments before the alarm sounded.

“Movies. Come on, we need to get outside.” She said, anger clouding her eyes and lowering her voice. Nobody asked any more questions and, even if they wanted to, Korra was already walking away, one foot out of the door

One thing’s for sure, Korra now had more reason than ever to hate Kuvira.

Kuvira was undoubtably the Metal Clan Protegé that Korra was tasked with arresting for crimes against the environment and the less fortunate.

#lok #tlok #the legend of korra #legend of korra #korra #korra and kuvira #tlok kuvira #kuvira #the great uniter #great uniter #korvira #korvirasami #kuvira week

[96harmony96]

Chapter 15

Friday found Trey sharing breakfast with Cary and me after an overnighter. As I drank the day’s first cup of coffee, I watched him interact with Cary and I was genuinely thrilled to see the intimate smiles and covert touches they gave one another.

I’d had easy relationships like that and hadn’t appreciated them at the time. They had been comfortable and uncomplicated, but they’d been superficial in a fundamental way, too.

How deep could a love affair get if you didn’t know the darkest recesses of your lover’s soul? That was the dilemma I’d faced with Lauren.

Day 2 After Lauren had begun. I found myself wanting to go to her and apologize for leaving her yet again. I wanted to tell her I was there for her, ready to listen or simply offer silent comfort. But I was too emotionally invested. I got wounded too easily. I was too afraid of rejection. And knowing she wouldn’t let me get too close only intensified that fear. Even if we did figure things out, I’d only tear myself apart trying to live with just the bits and pieces she decided to share with me.

At least my job was going well. The celebratory lunch the executives gave in honor of the agency landing the Kingsman account made me genuinely happy. I felt blessed to work in such a positive environment. But when I heard that Lauren had been invited—although no one expected her to show up—I returned quietly to my desk and focused on work the rest of the afternoon.

I hit the gym on the way home; then picked up some items to make fettuccini alfredo for dinner with crème brulée for dessert—comfort food guaranteed to put me in a carbohydrate coma. I expected sleep to offer me a break from the endless what-ifs my brain was recycling, hopefully long into Saturday morning.

Cary and I ate in the living room with chopsticks, his idea to cheer me up. He said dinner was great, but I couldn’t tell. I snapped out of it when he fell silent, too, and I realized I was being a less than stellar friend.

“When are the Grey Isles’ campaign ads going up?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, but get this…” He grinned. “You know how it is with male models—we’re tossed around like condoms at an orgy. It’s tough to stand out from the crowd, unless you’re dating someone famous. Which I’m suddenly reported to be doing since those photos of you and me were plastered everywhere. I’m the side piece of action in your relationship with Lauren Jauregui. You’ve done wonders for making me a hot commodity.”

I laughed. “You didn’t need my help for that.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t hurt. Anyway, they called me back for a couple more shoots. I think they might just use me for more than five minutes.”

“We’ll have to celebrate,” I teased.

“Absolutely. When you’re up for it.”

We ended up hanging out and watching the original Tron. His smartphone rang twenty minutes into the movie and I heard him speaking to his agency. “Sure. I’ll be there in fifteen, tops. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Got a job?” I asked after he’d hung up.

“Yeah. A model showed up for a night shoot so trashed he’s worthless.” He studied me. “You wanna come?”

I stretched my legs out on the couch. “Nope. I’m good right here.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“All I need is mindless entertainment. Just the thought of getting dressed again exhausts me.” I’d be happy wearing my flannel pajama bottoms and holey old tank top all weekend. As much as I hurt inside, total comfort outside seemed like a necessity. “Don’t worry about me. I know I’ve been a mess lately, but I’ll get it together. Go on and enjoy yourself.”

After Cary rushed out, I paused the movie and went to the kitchen for some wine. I stopped by the breakfast bar, my fingertips gliding over the roses Lauren had sent me the previous weekend. Petals fell to the countertop like tears. I thought about cutting the stems and using the flower food packet that came with the bouquet, but it was pointless hanging on to them. I’d throw the arrangement away tomorrow, the last reminder of my equally doomed relationship.

I’d gotten farther with Lauren in one week than I had with other relationships that lasted two years. I would always love her for that. Maybe I’d always love her, period.

And one day, that might not hurt so badly.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Cary singsonged as he yanked the comforter off of me.

“Ugh. Go away.”

“You’ve got five minutes to get your ass up and in the shower, or the shower’s coming to you.”

Opening one eye, I peeked at him. He was shirtless and wearing baggy pants that barely clung to his hips. As far as wake-up calls went, he was prime. “Why do I have to get up?”

“Because when you’re flat on your back you’re not on your feet.”

“Wow. That was deep, Cary Taylor.”

He crossed his arms and shot me an arch look. “We need to go shopping.”

I buried my face in the pillow. “No.”

“Yes. I seem to remember you saying this was a ‘Sunday garden party’ and ‘rock star gathering’ in the same sentence. What the hell do I wear to something like that?”

“Ah, well. Good point.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I…I don’t know. I was leaning toward the ‘English tea with hat’ look, but now I’m not so sure.”

He gave a brisk nod. “Right. Let’s hit the shops and find something sexy, classy, and cool.”

Growling a token protest, I rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. It was impossible to shower without thinking of Lauren, without picturing her perfect body and remembering the desperate sounds she made when she came in my mouth. Everywhere I looked, Lauren was there. I’d even started hallucinating black Bentley SUVs all around town. I thought I spotted one damn near everywhere I went.

Cary and I had lunch; then we bounced all over the city, hitting the best of the Upper East Side thrift stores and Madison Avenue boutiques before taking a taxi downtown to SoHo. Along the way, Cary had two teenage girls ask for his autograph, which tickled me more than him, I think.

“Told you,” he crowed.

“Told me what?”

“They recognized me from an entertainment news blog. One of the posts about you and Jauregui.”

I snorted. “Glad my love life is working out for someone.”

He was due at another job around three and I went with him, spending a few hours in the studio of a loud and brash photographer. Remembering it was Saturday, I slipped into a far corner and made my weekly call to my dad.

“You still happy in New York?” he asked me above the background noise of dispatch talking over the radio in his cruiser.

“So far so good.” A lie, but the truth helped no one.

His partner said something I didn’t catch. My dad snorted and said, “Hey, Chris insists he saw you on television the other day. Some cable channel, celebrity gossip thing. The guys won’t leave me alone about it.”

I sighed. “Tell them watching those shows is bad for their brain cells.”

“So you’re not dating one of the richest people in America?”

“No. What about your love life?” I asked, quickly diverting. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nothing serious. Hang on.” He responded to a call on the radio, then said, “Sorry, sweetheart. I have to run. I love you. Miss you like crazy.”

“I miss you, too, Daddy. Be careful.”

“Always. Bye.”

I killed the call and went back to my former spot to wait for Cary to wrap things up. In the lull, my mind tormented me. Where was Lauren now? What was she doing?

Would Monday bring me an inbox full of photos of her with another woman?

____

Sunday afternoon I borrowed Clancy and one of Stanton’s town cars for the drive out to the Vidal estate in Dutchess County. Leaning back in the seat, I looked out the window, absently admiring the serene vista of rolling meadows and green woodlands that stretched to the distant horizon. I realized I was working on Day 4 After Lauren. The pain I’d felt the first few days had turned into a dull throbbing that felt almost like the flu. Every part of my body ached, as if I was going through some sort of physical withdrawal and my throat burned with unshed tears.

“Are you nervous?” Cary asked me.

I glanced at him. “Not really. Lauren won’t be there.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I wouldn’t be going if I thought otherwise. I do have some pride you know.” I watched him drum his fingers on the armrest between our two seats. For all the shopping we’d done yesterday, he’d made only one purchase: a black leather tie. I’d teased him mercilessly about it, he of the perfect fashion sense going with something like that.

He caught me looking at it. “What? You still don’t like my tie? I think it works well with the emo jeans and my lounge lizard jacket.”

“Cary”—my lips quirked—“you can wear anything.”

It was true. Cary could pull any look off, a benefit of having a sculpted rangy body and a face that could make angels weep.

I set my hand over his restless fingers. “Are you nervous?”

“Trey didn’t call last night,” he muttered. “He said he would.”

I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just one missed call, Cary. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything serious.”

“He could’ve called this morning,” he argued. “Trey’s not flakey like the others I’ve dated. He wouldn’t have forgotten to call, which means he just doesn’t want to.”

“The rat bastard. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures of you having a great time looking sexy, classy, and cool to torment him with on Monday.”

His mouth twitched. “Ah, the deviousness of the female mind. It’s a shame Jauregui won’t see you today. I think I got a semi when you came out of your room in that dress.”

“Eww!” I smacked his shoulder and mock-glared when he laughed.

The dress had seemed perfect to both of us when we’d found it. It was cut in a classic garden party style—fitted bodice with a knee-length skirt that flared out from the waist. It was even white with flowers. But that’s where the tea-and-crumpets style ended.

The edginess came from the strapless form, the alternating layers of black and crimson satin underskirts that gave it volume, and the black leather flowers that looked like wicked pinwheels. Cary had picked the red Jimmy Choo peep-toe pumps out of my closet and the ruby drop earrings to give it all the finishing touch. We’d decided to leave my hair loose around my shoulders, in case we arrived and learned that hats were required. All in all, I felt pretty and confident.

Clancy drove us through an imposing set of monogrammed gates and turned into a circular driveway, following the direction of a valet. Cary and I got out by the entrance, and he took my arm as my heels sank into blue-gray gravel on the walk to the house.

Upon entering the Vidal’s sprawling Tudor-style mansion, we were warmly greeted by lauren’s family in a receiving line—her mother, stepfather, Christopher, and their sister.

I took in the sight, thinking the Vidal family could only look more perfect if Lauren was lined up with them. Her mother and sister had her coloring, both women boasting the same glossy obsidian hair and thickly-lashed green eyes. They were both beautiful in a finely wrought way.

“Camila!” Lauren’s mother drew me toward her, then air-kissed both of my cheeks. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. What a gorgeous girl you are! And your dress. I love it.”

“Thank you.”

Her hands brushed over my hair, cupped my face, and then slid down my arms. It was hard for me to bear it, because touching was sometimes an anxiety trigger for me when the person was a stranger. “Your hair, is it naturally brunette?”

“Yes,” I replied, startled and confused by the question. Who asked a question like that of a stranger?

“How fascinating. Well, welcome. I hope you have a wonderful time. We’re so glad you could make it.”

Feeling strangely unsettled, I was grateful when her attention moved to Cary and zeroed in.

“And you must be Cary,” she crooned. “Here I’d been certain my three children were the most attractive in the world. I see I was wrong about that. You are simply divine, young man.”

Cary flashed his megawatt smile. “Ah, I think I’m in love, Mrs. Vidal.”

she laughed with throaty delight. “Please. Call me Elizabeth. Or Lizzie, if you’re brave enough.”

Looking away, I found my hand clasped by Christopher Vidal Senior. In many ways, he reminded me of his son, with his slate green eyes and boyish smile. In others, he was a pleasant surprise. Dressed in khakis, loafers, and a cashmere cardigan, he looked more like a college professor than a music company executive.

“Camila. May I call you Camila?”

“Please do.”

“Call me Chris. It makes it a little easier to distinguish between me and Christopher.” His head tilted to the side as he contemplated me through quirky brass spectacles. “I can see why Lauren is so taken with you. Your eyes are a deep chocolate brown, yet they’re so clear and direct. Quite the most beautiful eyes I think I’ve ever seen, aside from my wife’s.”

I flushed. “Thank you.”

“Is Lauren coming?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Why didn’t her parents know the answer to that question?

“We always hope.” He gestured at a waiting servant. “Please head back to the gardens and make yourself at home.”

Christopher greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while lauren’s sister Ireland sized me up in a sulky way that only a teenager could pull off. “You’re a brunette,” she said.

Jeez. Was lauren’s preference for light-haired women a damn law or something? “And you’re a very lovely brunette.”

Cary offered me his arm and I accepted it gratefully.

As we walked away, he asked me quietly, “Were they what you expected?”

“Her mom, maybe. Her stepdad, no.” I looked back over my shoulder, taking in the elegant floor-length cream sheath dress that clung to Elizabeth Vidal’s svelte figure. I thought of what little I knew about Lauren’s family. “How does a girl grow up to be a businesswoman who takes over her stepfather’s family business?”

“Jauregui owns shares in Vidal Records?”

“Controlling interest.”

“Hmm. Maybe it was a bailout?” he offered. “A helping hand during a trying time for the music industry?”

“Why not just give him the money?” I wondered.

“Because she’s a shrewd businesswoman?”

With a sharp exhalation, I waved the question away and cleared my mind. I was attending the party for Cary, not Lauren, and I was going to keep that first and foremost in my thoughts.

Once we’d moved outside, we found a large, elaborately decorated marquee erected in the rear garden. Although the day was beautiful enough to stay out in the sun, I found a seat at a circular table covered in white damask instead.

Cary patted my shoulder. “You relax. I’ll network.”

“Go get ’em.”

He moved away, intent on his agenda.

I sipped champagne and chatted with everyone who stopped by to strike up a conversation. There were a lot of recording artists at the party whose work I listened to, and I watched them covertly, a bit starstruck. For all the elegance of the surroundings and the endless number of servants, the overall vibe was casual and relaxed.

I was starting to enjoy myself when someone I’d hoped never to see again stepped out of the house onto the terrace: Magdalene Perez, looking phenomenal in a rose-hued chiffon gown that floated around her knees.

A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed, setting my heart racing because it reminded me of the night Cary and I had gone to lauren’s club. But the figure that rounded me this time was Christopher.

“Hey, Camila.” He took the chair next to mine and set his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. “Are you having fun? You’re not mingling much.”

“I’m having a great time.” At least I had been. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. My parents are stoked you’re here. Me, too, of course.” His grin made me smile, as did his tie, which had cartoon vinyl records all over it. “Are you hungry? The crab cakes are great. Grab one when the tray comes by.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Let me know if you need anything. And save a dance for me.” He winked, and then hopped up and away.

Ireland took his seat, arranging herself with the practiced grace of a finishing school graduate. Her hair fell in a single length to her waist and her beautiful eyes were direct in a way I could appreciate. she looked worldlier than her seventeen years. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Lauren?”

I shrugged at the blunt question. “I’m not sure.”

she nodded sagely. “she’s good at being a loner.”

“Has she always been that way?”

“I guess. she moved out when I was little. Do you love her?”

My breath caught for a second. I released it in a rush and said simply, “Yes.”

“I thought so when I saw that video of you two in Bryant Park.” she bit her lush lower lip. “Is she fun? You know…to hang around with?”

“Oh. Well…” God. Did anyone know Lauren? “I wouldn’t say she’s fun, but she’s never boring.”

The live band began playing “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” and Cary appeared beside me as if by magic. “Time to make me look good, Ginger.”

“I’ll try my best, Fred.” I smiled at Ireland. “Excuse me a minute.”

“Three minutes, forty seconds,” she corrected, displaying some of her family’s expertise in music.

Cary led me onto the empty dance floor and pulled me into a swift foxtrot. It took me a minute to get into it, because I’d been stiff and tight with misery for days. Then the synergy of longtime partners kicked in and we glided across the floor with sweeping steps.

When the singer’s voice faded with the music, we stopped, breathless. We were pleasantly surprised by applause. Cary gave an elegant bow and I held on to his hand for stability as I dipped into a curtsy.

When I lifted my head and straightened, I found Lauren standing in front of me. Startled, I stumbled back a step. she was seriously underdressed in jeans and an untucked white dress shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, but she was so damn fine she still put every other woman in attendance to shame.

The tremendous yearning I felt at the sight of her overwhelmed me. Distantly I was aware of the band’s singer pulling Cary away, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Lauren, whose wildly green eyes burned into mine.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, scowling.

I recoiled from her harshness. “Excuse me?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” she grabbed me by the elbow and started hauling me toward the house. “I don’t want you here.”

If she’d spit in my face, it couldn’t have devastated me more. I yanked my arm free of her and walked briskly toward the house with my head held high, praying I could make it to the privacy of the town car and Clancy’s protective watch before the tears started falling.

Behind me, I heard a come-hither female voice call out lauren’s name and I sent up a prayer that the woman would stall her long enough for me to get out without further confrontation.

I thought I just might make it when I passed into the cool interior of the house.

“Camila, wait.”

My shoulders hunched at the sound of Lauren’s voice and I refused to look at her. “Get lost. I can show myself out.”

“I’m not done—”

“I am!” I pivoted to face her. “You don’t get to talk to me that way. Who do you think you are? You think I came here for you? That I was hoping I’d see you and you’d throw me a goddamn scrap or bone…some pathetic acknowledgment of my existence? Maybe I’d be able to harass you into a quick, dirty fuck in a corner somewhere in a pitiful effort to win you back?”

“Shut up, Camila.” Her gaze was scorching hot, her jaw tight and hard. “Listen to me—”

“I’m only here because I was told you wouldn’t be. I’m here for Cary and his career. So you can go back to the party and forget about me all over again. I assure you, when I walk out the door, I’ll be doing the same to you.”

“Shut your damned mouth.” she caught me by the elbows and shook me so hard my teeth snapped together. “Just shut up and let me talk.”

I slapped her hard enough to turn her head. “Don’t touch me.”

With a growl, Lauren hauled me into her and kissed me hard, bruising my lips. Her hand was in my hair, fisting it roughly, holding me in place so I couldn’t turn away. I bit the tongue she thrust aggressively into my mouth, then her lower lip, tasting blood, but she didn’t stop. I shoved at her shoulders with everything I had, but I couldn’t budge her.

Goddamn Stanton! If not for him and my crazy-assed mother, I’d have had a few Krav Maga classes under my belt by now…

Lauren kissed me as if she was starved for the taste of me and my resistance began to melt. she smelled so good, so familiar. Her body felt so perfectly right against mine. My nipples betrayed me, hardening into tight points, and a slow, hot trickle of arousal gathered in my core. My heart thundered in my chest.

God, I wanted her. The craving hadn’t gone away, not even for a minute.

she picked me up. Imprisoned by her tight grip, it was hard to breathe and my head began to spin. When she carried me through a door and kicked it shut behind her, I couldn’t do more than make a feeble sound of protest.

I found myself pressed against a heavy glass door on the other side of a library, lauren’s hard and powerful body subduing my own. Her arm at my waist slid lower, her hand delving beneath my skirts and finding the curves of my butt exposed by my lacy boy shorts underwear. she wrenched my hips hard to her, making me feel how hard she was, how aroused. My sex trembled with want, achingly empty.

All the fight left me. My arms fell to my sides, my palms pressing flat to the glass. I felt the brittle tension drain from her body as I softened in surrender, the pressure of her mouth easing and her kiss turning into a passionate coaxing.

“Camila,” she breathed gruffly. “Don’t fight me. I can’t take it.”

My eyes closed. “Let me go, Lauren.”

she nuzzled her cheek against mine, her breath gusting hard and fast over my ear. “I can’t. I know you’re disgusted by what you saw the other night…what I was doing to myself—”

“Lauren, no!” God. Did she think I left hee because of that? “That’s not why—”

“I’m losing my mind without you.” Her lips were gliding down my neck, her tongue stroking over my racing pulse. she sucked on my skin and pleasure radiated through me. “I can’t think. I can’t work or sleep. My body aches for you. I can make you want me again. Let me try.”

Tears slipped free and ran down my face. They splashed on the upper swell of my breasts and she licked at them, lapping them away.

How would I ever recover if she made love to me again? How would I survive if she didn’t?

“I never stopped wanting you,” I whispered. “I can’t stop. But you hurt me, Lauren. You have the power to hurt me like no one else can.”

Her gaze was stark and confused on my face. “I hurt you? How?”

“You lied to me. You shut me out.” I cupped her face, needing hero to understand this one thing without question. “Your past doesn’t have the power to push me away. Only you can do that, and you did.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” she rasped. “I never wanted you to see me like that…”

“That’s the problem, Lauren. I want to know who you are, the good and the bad, and you want to keep parts of yourself hidden from me. If you don’t open up, we’re going to lose each other down the road and I won’t be able to take it. I’m barely surviving it now. I’ve crawled through the last four days of my life. Another week, a month…It’ll break me to give you up.”

“I can let you in, Camila. I’m trying. But your first response when I screw up is to run away. You do it every time and I can’t stand feeling like any moment I’m going to do or say something wrong and you’re going to bolt.”

Her mouth was tender again as she brushed her lips back and forth over mine. I didn’t argue with her. How could I, when she was right?

“I hoped you’d come back on your own,” she murmured, “but I can’t stay away anymore. I’ll carry you out of here if I have to. Whatever it takes to get you back in the same room with me, talking this out.”

My heart stuttered. “You were hoping I’d come back? I thought…You gave me back my keys. I thought we were over.”

she pulled back, her face set in fierce lines. “We’ll never be over, Camila.”

I looked at her, my heart aching like an open wound at how beautiful she was, how broken and in pain she was—pain I’d caused to some degree.

On tiptoes, I kissed the reddened handprint I’d left on her cheek, clutching her thick silky hair in my hands.

Lauren bent her knees to align our bodies, her breathing harsh and erratic. “I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you need. Anything. Just take me back.”

Maybe I should have been scared by the depth of her need, but I felt the same passionate insanity for her.

Running my hands down her chest in an effort to soothe her trembling, I gave her the hard truth. “We can’t seem to stop making each other miserable. I can’t keep doing this to you and I can’t keep going through these crazy highs and lows. We need help, Lauren. We’re seriously dysfunctional.”

“I saw Dr. Petersen on Friday. He’s going to take me on as a patient, and—if you agree—he’ll take us both on as a couple. I figured if you can trust him, I can try.”

“Dr. Petersen?” I remembered the brief jolt I’d felt at seeing a black Bentley SUV when Clancy pulled away from the doctor’s office. At the time, I’d told myself it was wishful thinking. After all, there were countless black SUVs in New York. “You had me followed.”

Her chest expanded on a deep breath. she didn’t deny it.

I bit back my anger. I could only imagine how terrible it must be for her to be so dependent on something—someone—she couldn’t control. What mattered most at that moment were her willingness to try and the fact that it wasn’t just talk. she’d actually taken steps. “It’s going to be a lot of work, Lauren,” I warned her.

“I’m not afraid of work.” she was touching me restlessly, her hands sliding over my thighs and buttocks as if caressing my bare skin was as necessary to her as breathing. “I’m only afraid of losing you.”

I pressed my cheek to her. We completed each other. Even now, as her hands roamed possessively over me, I felt a thawing in my soul, the desperate relief of being held—finally—by the woman who understood and satisfied my deepest, most intimate desires.

“I need you.” Her mouth was sliding over my cheek and down my throat. “I need to be inside you…”

“No. My God. Not here.” But my protest sounded weak even to my own ears. I wanted her anywhere, anytime, any way…

“It has to be here,” she muttered, dropping to her knees. “It has to be now.”

she chafed my skin ripping the lace of my panties away; then she shoved my skirts to my waist and licked my cleft, her tongue parting my folds to stroke over my throbbing clit.

I gasped and tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. Not with the door at my back and a grimly determined Lauren in front, one hand keeping me pinned while the other lifted my left leg over her shoulder, opening me to her ardent mouth.

My head thudded against the glass, heat pulsing through my blood from the point where her tongue was driving me mad. My leg flexed against her back, urging her closer, my hands cupping her head to hold her still as I rocked into her. Feeling the rough satin strands of her hair against my sensitive inner thighs was its own provocation, heightening my awareness of everything around me…

We were in Lauren’s parents’ house, in the midst of a party attended by dozens of famous people, and she was on her knees, growling her hunger as she licked and sucked my slick, aching cleft. she knew just how to get to me, knew what I liked and needed. she had an understanding of my nature that went above and beyond her incredible oral skills. The combination was devastating and addicting.

My body shook, my eyelids heavy from the illicit pleasure. “Lauren…You make me come so hard.”

Her tongue rubbed over and over the clenching entrance to my body, teasing me, making me grind shamelessly into her working mouth. Her hands cupped my bare butt, kneading, urging me onto her tongue as she thrust it inside me. There was reverence in the greedy way she enjoyed me, the unmistakable sense that she worshipped my body, that pleasuring it and taking pleasure from it was as vital to her as the blood in her veins.

“Yes,” I hissed, feeling the orgasm building. I was buzzed by champagne and the heated scent of Lauren’s skin mixed with my own arousal. My breasts strained within the increasingly too-tight confines of my strapless bra, my body trembling on the edge of a desperately needed orgasm. “I’m so close.”

A movement on the far side of the room caught my eye and I froze, my gaze locking with Magdalene’s. she stood just inside the door, halted midstride, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the back of Lauren’s moving head.

But she was either oblivious or too impassioned to care. Her lips circled my clit and her cheeks hallowed. Sucking rhythmically, she massaged the hypersensitive knot with the tip of her tongue.

Everything tightened viciously, then released in a fiery burst of pleasure.

The orgasm poured through me in a scorching wave. I cried out, pumping my hips mindlessly into her mouth, lost to the primal connection between us. Lauren held me up as my knees weakened, tonguing my quivering flesh until the last tremor faded.

When I opened my eyes again, our audience of one had fled.

Standing in a rush Lauren picked me up and carried me to the couch. she dropped me lengthwise on the cushion; then hauled my hips up to rest on the armrest, arching my spine.

I eyed her up the length of my torso. Why not just fold me over and fuck me from behind?

Then she ripped open her button-fly and pulled her big, beautiful penis out, and I didn’t care how she took me just so long as she did. I whimpered as she shoved into me, my body struggling to accommodate the wonderful fullness I craved. Yanking my hips to meet her powerful thrusts, Lauren battered my tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, her gaze dark and possessive, her breath leaving her in primitive grunts every time she hit the end of me.

A trembling moan left me, the friction of her drives stirring my never-sated need to be fucked senseless by her. Only her.

A handful of strokes and her head fell back as she gasped my name, her hips rolling to stir me into a frenzy. “Squeeze me, Camila. Squeeze my dick.”

When I complied, the ragged sound she made was so erotic my sex trembled in appreciation. “Yeah, angel…just like that.”

I tightened around her and she cursed. Her gaze found mine, the stunning green hazed with sexual euphoria. A convulsive shudder wracked her powerful frame, followed by an agonized sound of ecstasy. Her cock jerked inside me, once, twice, and then she was coming long and hard, spurting hotly into the clutching depths of my body.

I didn’t have time to climax again, but it didn’t matter. I watched her with awe and pure female triumph. I could do this to her.

In the moments of orgasm, I owned her as completely as she owned me.

[artificialqueens]

Lemon's Misadventures in Dating, Chapter 6  (Lemon x Everyone) - Mermelada

A/N: Hi everyone! Here’s chapter 6, as seen on Ao3! I found out that Lemon’s irl mum is Scottish, so naturally, I had to include her as a character and base her on my own! More is coming soon, so watch this space! :D I love you all!!

[07:24] HEY GIRL!

[07:24] I’m so sorry but I ate your sister for breakfast

[07:24] She was a grapefruit lololololol

[07:24] I’m sorry please don’t hate me

[07:24] But she was delicious

[07:25] So what’s the tea on Little Miss Lemon? I want to know everything! What’s your favourite type of pasta?

Lemon read the messages again as she sat at the kitchen island, sipping her coffee. She couldn’t help but smile. That was not what she was expecting at all from Priyanka, she looked so poised and regal in all her photos, yet in reality she was coming across as a complete goofball. Although it had been three hours now, and she was still awaiting a reply.

[09:58] Umm how fucking dare you?

[09:58] Don’t even expect me to respond to that until I get a full apology, you murderer.

Was the joke not obvious? Fuck, what if she thinks I’m serious? But then she started it…

“What’s got you smiling, princess?”

She jumped with shock as her mum walked through the door, placing her handbag on the counter and opening the fridge door. She knew her mum only worked a half-day on Thursdays, but her sudden appearance was a surprise nonetheless. Lemon felt like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t be.

“Oh, nothing,” she sang, quickly locking her phone and putting it back in her pocket, away from prying eyes, “how was work?”

“Well you’re not acting like it was nothing,” teased her mum, moving around the kitchen in a blur as she prepared her lunch. “Is it a girl?”

Lemon failed to hide the blush rising on her face, she knew her mum meant no harm, but she was not prepared to get into a conversation about dating and hookups with her so early in the day, and with so little alcohol to hand. “Muuuuuuuuum” she groaned, hoping that the coolness of her hands would remove the redness as she placed her chin in her palms.

“I’m just glad you’re happy, darling, you deserve it after the summer you’ve had!” Lemon couldn’t deny that her mum had been an absolute angel these last few months. She listened to Lemon way back when she had first admitted that things weren’t working like they should be, and never once offered any judgement or tried to convince her to stay. She had even helped Lemon move her things out of her old apartment as quickly as was humanly possible for the pair of them, while she was at work. “Are you up to date with your tetanus shots though, because you’ll need one if she’s doing that to you!”

Just when Lemon felt she couldn’t get any redder, her mum’s finger was poking the mottled bruise peeking out from under the loose collar of her t-shirt, her whole body burning as her mind flashed back to the moment it had been placed there… the body above her trembling, grabbing a handful of platinum hair as they grinded against each other’s thighs, the muffled cries in French… “Oh my god, mum, please stop!”

“What?! You can’t just disappear for two nights in a row and not expect me to be curious! What’s her name?”

She audibly groaned at her mother’s prying tone, laying her head on the cold marble countertop. “Mum, I love you, but I am not having this conversation with you right now!”

Fucking Rita, I’m sure she’ll find this funny at least, Lemon made a mental note to text the other woman later, wondering if she’s had any similar happenings with her work colleagues, or if she had enough experience - and common sense - to hide the evidence of her Tinder trysts better. At least she had put on leggings after waking up today, as shorts would have only showcased an even more incriminating patchwork of colourful marks across her inner thighs.

Her mum simply smiled and wrapped an arm around her from behind the high kitchen chair, planting an affectionate kiss on her daughter’s temple. “Well, you know what I always say, pumpkin, as long as you’re happy and safe, go out there and have fun! Are dental dams still a thing? Do you need some?”

Lemon could only muster a grunt in response, her head making an audible bang as she threw it onto the counter, deeply wishing that the conversation was over. Right on cue, she felt the phone in her pocket buzz with a new notification. She practically leapt off her seat, ready to run to the safety of her bedroom. “Well, on that note, I’m going to remove myself from this deeply uncomfortable situation. Thank you, mother!” 

“Ooh is that her texting you? When are you seeing her next?” The enthusiastic questions fell - as her mum expected - on deaf ears, Lemon gulping down the remainder of her cold coffee and placing the empty mug in the sink.

When she finally reached her safe haven, she pushed the door closed and jumped back on the bed. Despite knowing her parents wouldn’t mind at all, she still wasn’t ready to admit she was trying to move on, let alone with an assortment of random ladies from the Greater Toronto Area. She grabbed at her phone excitedly, her eyes lighting up when she saw that Priyanka had finally answered.

[13:35] My dearest Lemon, I must beg for your forgiveness, for I have sinned gravely. Upon awakening from my slumber and entering my cooking chamber, my stomach began to sing a dreadful tune. In the search for something to quell its anger, I encountered a grapefruit, as cute as your face and as juicy as your ass probably is. With no other option, I slaughtered it, dressed it with some sugar, and devoured its flesh. Would you please accept my most sincere apology in the form of a drink sometime?

This crazy bitch. No other interaction on the app had left Lemon feeling so giddy, her heart had sped up and her stomach was doing somersaults. Yes yes yes yes oh my god of course! Luckily her common sense kicked in, and she realised she should probably act a bit less… desperate.

[13:40] Let me think about it

[13:41] Loljk of course!

[13:41] Any day/time work best for you? I’m afraid I’m fully booked this weekend

[13:41] Mourning my sister and all

[13:41] (I mean the grapefruit btw sorry that could have been weird)

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long for a response. 

[13:42] LOL I’m glad it didn’t turn dark

[13:42] Any night that’s not a school day is best for me!

[13:43] Speaking of which I better get back and entertain some little people, ttyl xo

[13:43] KIDS, btw, just in case xx

Lemon shook her head as she smiled, Priyanka was certainly something else. Cute, funny, sexy… hopefully she didn’t ruin it by having bad breath or murderous tendencies. She couldn’t explain it, she already felt something special about the girl, something she hadn’t felt since- no. Let’s not ruin a good thing by thinking about her. But the more she looked at Priyanka’s profile, the more memories of Juice kept flooding her mind. Taking a moment, she sat on the floor, stretching her legs out in front of her and breathing deeply and rhythmically, a makeshift meditation to nip any panic in the bud.

Is it still too soon? Maybe I’m not ready to be moving on if I still think about her so much, and if I still get so emotional doing so. Images of the former couple danced around her head; walking hand in hand, snuggling on the couch under blankets, even just helping each other cook, or drinking coffee in bed on a rainy morning. I thought it was what I wanted, but maybe I was wrong. She sat silently for a few minutes, trying her best to think of nothing but a dark sky filled with distant, twinkling stars, but even that took her mind back to the nights they’d spend wandering around their neighbourhood, talking about their hopes and dreams, where they’d live once they got married, how many cats and dogs it was acceptable to have. It seemed like the natural course for them, but not everything can work out the way people want it to. 

She didn’t know whether it was the buzz of her phone on the bed behind her, or Gus’s gentle panting as he pushed through the door which awoke her from her semi-trance, but she took the opportunity to stand up and shake the stiffness out of her body. It was a natural impulse to bring her hands to her eyes to wipe away her tears, but she was pleasantly surprised to not find any there today. Maybe things were getting better after all. 

She and Gus both slid onto her bed, the dog circling three times before plopping himself down in the crook of Lemon’s elbow, which she rewarded with a firm scratch under his chin. Picking up her phone, it buzzed again in her hand with messages from Rita.

Dr Rita <3 [14:02] shared a link

Dr Rita <3 [14:05] Bonjour! How are you today, mon citron? I had a nap after work and I am now ready for the gym :-O Last night a colleague told me about this dance school where his daughters go, a teacher is pregnant and will need someone to cover the classes when she is off. I thought of you :-) I hope you slept better than a baby! X

Dr Rita <3 [14:06] Also I found a bruise on my ass yesterday, I was in pain every time I was sitting down, thank you very much…

Lemon had always believed in fate to some degree, and upon seeing the link Rita had sent, she had no doubt that destiny had been on her side during the events of the last few days. She stared at the familiar tan bricks of her old dance school, the smiling face of her old principal teacher finally giving her the push she needed to get back in the saddle. She threw on a pair of jeans and a woolen cardigan, replying to Rita with one hand as she pulled on her ankle boots with the other.

[14:10] Merci merci, I’ll check it out!! Have fun at the gym, you crazy pomme! How was sexy kidney lady? 

[14:11] And de rien 😘 my mum saw the one on my neck today, she thinks I’m being bullied 😞

Jumping down the stairs two at a time and shouting a quick goodbye to her mum - closing the door before she could hear the inevitable embarrassing reply - she walked as quickly as her legs could possibly take her to the dance school, a path she had already walked hundreds of times throughout her childhood. Even if they said no, she would sign up to classes or find some auditions, how could this not be a sign from the universe to start dancing again? As she reached the heavy iron door, she checked her phone one last time.

Dr Rita <3 [14:14] Courage, ma belle! They would be idiots to not want you! Well, she made me my favourite tea and told me she liked my lipstick, so I think we are married now?

Dr Rita <3 [14:16] And I am so sorry! :-( Do you have arnica cream? I hope your mother knows it was at your request? ;-)

She had really lucked out with Rita, she needed a good friend like her in her corner right now. And as she stepped inside, navigating the bright corridors to the principal’s office, she was really glad she’d downloaded Tinder.

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #mermelada #lemon #priyanka #rita baga #kyne #kiara #juice boxx #submission #lmid #can1

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

14. A Shot in the Dark Part 2

Upfront: It has been a long time since I’ve known somebody who got shot (well enough) to have the exact parameters of how the hospital etiquette is, so I’m basically going to tap into the last time, and since that was about a decade ago and also in my hometown, Idk how far off the way that they handle it is. I’ll try to fill in the spaces with how not as close associates have portrayed their experiences with similar crises and maybe pepper in a little imagination for flow of story. But, the main takeaway is that the chapter has a heavy police presence and I know that can be extremely difficult to digest for people.

He had been crying for most of the night. He wasn’t that adverse to crying. Physically, it was a good release for emotions that the brain was trying to process. He did wish that he could stop for longer than fifteen minutes here and there, but there was too much happening in his heart and mind. It had been two hours. The police had talked to him, then he had to wait for detectives, and they were a “good cop, bad cop” team that he would have expected only in a fictional work, and that was fitting, since none of this felt real. 

The way that Grace’s body shivered in his arms, then just… stopped moving. The way that she wasn’t breathing and he was too scared to let go of her wound to try to administer CPR… The way that he was convinced that he was watching the love of his life die in his arms and the fact that she had been in surgery for two hours and nobody but police and detectives would speak to him about anything, yet, nobody would try to contact her family, despite him repeating to them that she was Ambassador Monroe’s daughter…

3:48 am - At least they had contacted Sunetra. Apparently, she was Grace St. Catherine’s listed emergency contact. She and Xander showed up about an hour after Simon had been sitting there, with the police. Whenever they came in, both of them noticed him and he could see that Xander looked equal amounts of confused, angry, and scared. Sunny was less readable, only seeming to be curious, but rushed over to him, while the police tried to intercept her. “What happened?” she asked, over their shoulders. 

Simon stared at her, glanced at Xander, and even though everything in him wanted to say, “You left her to fucking die is what happened!” Instead, he said very softly, “Grace and I were on a date and she got shot…” Sunny had an emotional response. She began to let tears fall from her eyes, though the rest of her was unresponsive as the police gently guided her away, asking that she and Simon don’t talk.

Xander had a look of… realization and resignation. Simon was gonna cover for them again. He and Sunny could stick with the alibi that they would have used if Grace had been found dead in the alley… “Is she dead?” Xander asked, shaking and crying/

“Surgery…” Simon said, feeling… equal parts bad for him but still extremely pissed off. He knew that he cared, he did know that… but they just LEFT her. They left her to die, not knowing that Simon was there for her, to avenge her nor to save her. They had left her to die in an alley and would have just… moved on without her, like they’d done with Heath. He felt his own tears forming again, angry ones this time around and he wiped at them with his sleeve.  She deserved better. 

At least now, he was ready to make his phone call. He just… didn’t want to potentially be arrested if Grace was gonna be alone. Hopefully, somebody would call her parents. She wasn’t close to them, but she loved them a lot, and they deserved to know where she was. She deserved to have them there for her. “Mom…”

“Simon? Baby, it’s 3 am, what in the world is going on?”

He sobbed and said, “Grace was shot..”

He heard the wind leave his mother like she’d just been hit. “Oh my God, Simon. Baby, I am so sorry. Where are you, I’ll come right down!”

“I’m at the hospital. The police want to talk to me. I’m scared that… That they’ll make me leave her here… that they might arrest me.” There was a pause, and he knew that she was trying to process something… “I was just trying to protect her. I killed somebody… He shot her and I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. It wasn’t even the fact that he had done it, but telling his mother was… harder than he imagined when he mustered up the courage to call her.

“I’m gonna call the lawyer and come down there. What hospital?”

.

 Simon wrote something on her hand. 

It's not the first thing that she noticed. That was the room. A hospital room.  What happened? For a moment, she didn’t even know who she was, much less where exactly she was and why, but her brain read her surroundings as a hospital room, and whatever happened, she felt very fuzzy headed and resolved not to say anything aloud until she could figure out more about what happened and why.

The second thing that she noticed was the badge.

It had a visceral and sobering affect on her. She thought about the ACAB button on her favorite canvas bag and her body felt actual elevated pain at even seeing the symbol - a symbol she hated and did not trust. The badge holder spoke, seeing that she was now awake, she mentally noted, not caring that she couldn’t POSSIBLY look like she was capable of holding a conversation, because she still was trying to figure out what happened. “Miss St. Catherine?”

“Monroe,” she groaned.  Bitch, was that YOUR voice? She wondered, hearing something that sounded gross and pained come out of her and feeling a tremendous strain as the word flowed from her lips, even as her mind told her not to say THAT. Monroe. She hadn’t used that name in years, but… her brain still automatically spat it out when addressed. “Ugh…” she finally remembered more. Monroe. That’s correct. She had parents and her last name, from them had been Monroe. It took her a while to push out her explanation - both energy and concentration that the badge holder allowed her to power through. “I’m the daughter of Gethsemane Monroe… and Ambrose! Ambrose Monroe. Call him… My father… I’m… hurting…”

The third thing that she noticed was her pain. You’d think it would be instant, but her brain spent so much energy trying to formulate words and connect them to thoughts of questions that she hadn’t. But, by God, now she did.

“You’ve gotten medical attention, but we will contact your parents.”

“Cool. They’ll call the family lawyer.”

“You think that you need a lawyer?”

“I  don’t  think that you should talk to me in my condition. Can hardly think, and I’m in pain. I’ve…”  I’ve been shot! THAT’S what happened. She remembered. Her blood pressure spiked at this realization. “Simon!” Her voice was stronger, in her panic and she moved quite violently, only to realize that she was handcuffed to the hospital bed. Both her wrist and her gsw hurt in that moment and she laid down, breathing hard and holding herself with her free hand.

“Simon Laurent?” The badge holder had been unmoved by her sudden jolt, and unphased by her obvious pain. 

“I hope that whatever is in this IV doesn’t make me forget that you’re trying to talk to me in my condition, after the fact that I asked for my lawyer. I hope that they have a lot to say about me being chained to this bed after getting shot.”

The doctor had arrived to check on her and the detective ducked out, with Grace glaring at him. They brought her blood pressure down, gave her more pain medicine and spoke to her about her injuries and procedures. “Am I going to make it?”

“I think so. Good thing that your friend was there.”

“Simon! Is  he okay?” her pulse shot up. 

“Please try to remain calm, Miss St. Catherine. He wasn’t harmed.” She sighed and rested against the pillow.  That wasn’t what I asked…  But,  that was when she noticed it:

“Remember our last date night! XOXO Simon”  The doctor left the room as she stared at the sloppily written message, knowing that even though it looked shaky and/or rushed that it was Simon’s handwriting and he MUST have written it while she was injured… she knew this was an important message.  Our last date night? Like… last date-date, date night or last “date night” date night? No… not our last date. There’s nothing special about that.  He had recently asked her about their “last date night,” so she knew that must have been what he meant.  Remember our last date night! XOXO Simon… 

She knew what she needed to do. She waited, trying to breathe and meditate, silently hoping and wishing that she knew Simon as well as she knew that he knew her. She looked at the clock in the room. 4:14 am.

.

4:58 am, a VERY handsome couple stormed into the hospital and Simon recognized them immediately. Even if he had never seen the photos, Grace was the spitting image of her mother - the woman didn’t even look old enough to have a daughter her age. They could easily pass for sisters, and with a slight variation of her skin tone and hair texture, they had the exact same face, build, and body language. (Though, Grace's body language most likely mimicked her mom's to pass for normalcy) Her father was… clearly rich, because that woman was definitely out of his league and his style was more of a conservative fashion than the clearly purposely fashionable wife, but that was an earlier thought Simon had… not necessarily one he had on this night. 

The man was slamming his finger onto the counter and speaking very sternly to the poor lady at the desk. Whatever was happening wasn’t her fault, but Simon figured the police had been just as shitty with them as they’d been with him the past couple of hours. The woman turned and noticed him. She came over and his mother took his hand and intertwined their fingers, seemingly to give him strength. They weren’t sure WHAT Grace’s mother was going to say.

“You’re Grace’s boyfriend,” she said. Simon… knew that Grace said her mom was English, but hearing that voice come out of “Grace’s face” was a bit shocking at first. He nodded his head. If Grace hadn’t announced that they had broken up, this wasn’t the time to. Maybe she also hadn’t mentioned that she’d rushed off because he was stalking her. “Do you know what happened?” She wondered.

The police were a lot more accommodating with allowing her to talk to him than they had been with Sunny and Xander, who were also in the waiting room, with officers beside them, and had been presumably questioned when they’d been guided to the detectives earlier. Simon glanced at them and he saw that the police were staring at him, waiting for him to finally say something. If he wasn’t going to answer them, he would maybe answer this woman. He squeezed his mother’s hand and let himself tell her. “Somebody attacked Grace. She was shot,” he pointed to where. “She’s been in surgery. They won’t say more. The man that shot her… He was somebody… that she  knew…  from her past, I think,” he said, tilting his head, hoping that Mrs. Monroe would catch what he meant. She stumbled, ever so slightly, letting him know that she indeed did get it. “I killed him,” Simon said. It was more of a proud declaration than anything else. The woman looked… relieved. Simon didn’t know if he was imagining that for his own ego, or if he was simply too disoriented to note things properly. But soon, the doctor approached Grace’s parents and they rushed down the hallway with him.  She’s alive. She’s okay… Simon felt himself take the first relieved breath that he’d had in hours.

.

5:17 am. Outside of her room, she could hear her parents fussing with someone. The other voice wasn’t very familiar, but she ultimately gathered that it was that badge that had been in earlier. He had a hard voice, which, although he was speaking in a low voice, it cut through the wall and sounded very sinister as he told her parents that she couldn’t receive visitors until they figured out what happened in that alley. An accent of “the Queen’s people,” Grace considered it. She wasn’t that great at telling a lot of those accents apart, and found out that people snobbishly point out that their accents are special. Their accents are different. If they had the Queen listed whenever she looked them up online, she just threw it in a bucket. It was an effort on her part NOT to think about linguistics. In fact, she furrowed her brows that she was thinking about it so naturally just from hearing an Australian accent through a door.  Damn it. 

Her father spoke about the constitution, warned the dick that he  knew the law, and her mother insisted that he was incompetent, subhuman, and corrupt. The door opened and the man returned, leaving her parents outside. 

“Miss Monroe, or Miss St. Catherine, or whoever you wish to be called these days. Your parents have been alerted and they want to see you. Your boyfriend is out there, speaking to my partner. If you want to get your side out, I would suggest that you do so now.”

She frowned.  Her side?  Simon wasn’t telling on her. He wouldn’t. She looked at the note on her hand.  This cop is trying to get under your skin, Grace. 

“People sure do seem to die around you a lot. Hopefully, he'll realize that sooner, rather than later." He adjusted her blanket and smirked, his icy blue eyes seemingly having nothing human behind them as he covered up her still cuffed arm. "But, maybe I'm misunderstanding the facts. Maybe it's  not  what it looks like. Maybe you  weren't trying to attack someone when they shot you in self defense, only to be murdered moments later by some poor fool under your spell."

Now, Grace smirked, but she was in enough pain that it could be mistaken for a wince, if Mace wasn't so receptive. "Yes. You ARE wrong."

"Explain it to me. Simon's certainly explaining it to my partner."

.

Sieve: Just explain to me what happened

Simon: Is Grace okay?

Sieve: Whatever you know, it could only help her.

Simon: (Sighs) I've already told the police and I also told you and your partner. That guy shot her and I shot him. He attacked, I reacted.

Sieve: What led up to it?

Simon: It happened really fast.

Sieve: Start from when you first saw him. We’ve got time. 

Simon: Ummm… he seemed to come out of nowhere to me I don't know. 

 Grace: I spotted him throwing the trash out back there and I recognized him. I thought he might not recognize me, but if he did... I... Didn't want Simon to know. (Lowers her eyes to the note on her palm. Clenches her fist.) He doesn't know about my past. I didn't want him to know that I was... Product... And I certainly never expected to run into the man who had turned me into product…

 Sieve: Did she say who this man was?

Simon: No... She... (Taps into Grace's personality. ‘If I were brainstorming the actions of a character like Grace, how would I outline her response to this line of questioning?’) She seemed paranoid. Secretive. I didn't know him, but I had a feeling that she didn't want me to, so I tried to give her space. I gave them too much of it…

 Grace: I tried to get some distance between Simon and I to get a closer look at the guy. It was dark and I didn't know if my past was playing tricks on my mind. It's been almost 15 years now… I didn't really believe myself to be seeing him again, especially in such a random place as this alley.

Mace: But it was him?

Grace:  (nods head)  It was dark. I was walking up on him and I asked him a question about that day. Are you the nice man with the pinky ring in the white limousine? I asked it out loud before I could stop myself or formulate a more tactful way to handle it.

Mace: And then what?

Grace:  (Looks into his eyes) And then he shot me.

 Simon: I don't KNOW what she said. I don't know what happened. It was dark and they were a little ways away from me. From what I COULD figure, he seemed to be trying to kill her. I simply reacted.

Sieve: By emptying your gun into him?

Simon: That's… that's how I practice at the range. I've been practicing a lot. I'm a pretty good shot. I just... Went into my practice mode. He was running, but I imagined the firing range targets when they move forward.

Sieve: He was running towards you?

Simon:  (Pauses)  No.. the other direction.

Sieve: So, you admit that he was running away when you killed him.

Simon: I… never denied that he was running away… AFTER he tried to kill Grace. (Hands shaking in anger and frustration)

Sieve: But, instead of self defense, as you claimed, this sounds like revenge for shooting your girlfriend.

Simon: If you could only be self-aware enough to realize how absurd that is coming from the police. You all shoot people all the time out of fear. Unarmed people who aren't even being violent. This monster shot at us!

Sieve: At her. After she rushed up to him in the dark, in presumably a confrontational manner.

Simon: Why do you presume that?

Sieve: It sounds like your girlfriend rushed upon this man, if it happened so quickly that you can’t form how exactly it did happen. How far away would you say you were from him?

Simon:  (Flares nostrils)  I didn't measure.

Sieve:  (More pensievely than accusatory)  But, in the dark, with him moving in the opposite direction, you were a very precise shot. It was not well lit, he was an unknown distance away. Your girlfriend was probably on the ground by then. All on short notice, and in a random alley behind this man’s job. You hit him with every bullet in your gun. You didn't miss at all, and still had time to apply pressure to the wound and call 911. 

Simon: I’m a quick thinker and I've been practicing.

 Mace: So, the victim…

Grace: Me?

Mace: The murder  victim.

Grace: The attempted murderer.

Mace: Had ties to someone you knew. Someone we spoke about before. Heath Farmer.

Grace:  (Pulse accelerates. Face becomes firm)  I don't believe that.

Mace:  The night that Farmer died, he had been a part of a b&e, two of the culprits escaped. The homeowner didn't get a good look at them, but noted that they were all dressed alike and wearing masks. Some time later, a man was taken from his home, not to be seen again. His wife, who hadn't been on the scene when Farmer died, described the kidnappers in a similar fashion as Farmer had been dressed that night. Same exact clothing that was removed from your person for surgery.

Grace: (Unbothered) Sounds like they were stylish.

Mace: 148. That's what you told the police whenever you were initially arrested for beating a girl almost to death. 

Grace: A gang member who murdered a small child that police failed to protect.

Mace: Heath Farmer once had a number too, and I'm sure that if I were to go through all of your friends, I would find more numbers. More members of your gang. More murderers…

Grace:  I'm  sure that you’ll find that there is no type of evidence to indicate that  I  have murdered anybody, anywhere. The only thing that you have is the word of someone who described an outfit of some people who maybe tapped into a description that her husband gave her when he spoke about work.

Mace: I never mentioned anything about his work.

Grace: You mentioned that the wife’s description matched Heath's death at his murder scene. Either somebody let a civilian on the premises during an investigation, or the woman's husband was on the scene for work, since she was not, as you were happy to inform me. (Bats her eyes)

Mace:  (Glares) You were able to pin numerous murders on so-called stewards, who wore all black clothes masks to cover their identities, and yet, in several disappearances over the past couple of years, we find the symbol associated with your old gang. The one that you got away with acts of violence by being rich and pretending to be crazy. Several of those same kids who were on the streets were there for a year while you were allowed to sit in a room, dance and draw pictures with crayons. Maybe the ringleader felt bad for abandoning them. Maybe these people who are disappearing are doing so because the princess has decided.

Grace: This is inappropriate. The detective.

Mace: Why would you and Farmer have matching outfits and be near people associated with the old Apex in the middle of the night? More than one occasion, and it be exactly the same as what the witness saw when her husband was taken?

Grace: My date with Simon was after practice last night, and Heath must have stopped by that man’s house on his way to  practice that night.

Mace: Practice?

Grace:  (Deadpan)  We have a dance crew.  (Stare at each other)  You can verify it with the Infinity Train Foundation Center. Sometimes we practice there and most of our performances have been there. For the kids.

Mace: You never said that you had practice on the night of his death.  (Smirks)

Grace: I said that we cancelled some plans to hang out with Simon. Those plans were practice that night. My other friends wanted to size him up and Heath didn't make it to the little meet and greet. Maybe he was as unfortunate as me. Maybe he saw somebody that he just couldn’t stand not to address. Maybe that’s why he was killed, as opposed to wounded or apprehended for questioning. Sure would have made your job easier than this plot of yours to give me details of the investigation. You might think that you’re programming me to know stuff that I’m not supposed to know so that later that knowledge can be used against me, but I promise, I’m not as stupid as you think.

Mace:  (Fumes in frustration as Grace stares at him, emotionless)

Grace: Are you on the take? Is that why you’re so passionately trying to pin cold blooded murder on an internationally recognized children’s book series author?

Mace: Maybe it’s him who’s in your pocket. Unfortunate young man who brings joy to children is a good, strong alibi for a murderous former gang member and child prostitute…

Grace: (Spits in his face) 

“Book me for assault for that if you want to, but you don’t have SHIT else on me,” she hissed. “I can’t wait to tell my lawyer what you just said to an injured SURVIVOR of child trafficking, homelessness and the subsequent street violence brought on by aforementioned abuse. I’m a recovery success story, philanthropist, child welfare advocate, and payer of so many taxes… The way that my dad and the DA might as well be fucking each other, they’re so close, and you take my physically and mentally traumatized body, cuff it to a bed while I’m striuggling for my life, and question and accuse me while I’m under medication... I feel like… You should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself, ``Do you want to fight me?” He wiped his face with her blanket, uncuffed her and left the room.

Her parents were speaking with her lawyer whenever he came out. “Going to take Mr. Laurent to the station for more questioning,” he said.

“What?” Mrs. Laurent wondered, walking up with coffee for Mrs. Monroe that she had gone to fetch while waiting for Simon to finish speaking with the other detective. “Simon already told us all that he did what he did in self defense!” 

“Other things have come to light, namely that the murder victim…”

“The assailant who tried to kill my daughter,” Mrs. Monroe corrected, infuriating him as well as her daughter had.

“WAS affiliated with the organisation that disbanded and became known as the street gang that your daughter was part of…”

Mrs. Laurent gasped. “Street gang? What are you talking about?”

“What he’s talking about is something that he has no legal RIGHT to talk about and now you’ve just slandered my daughter to a woman who only knows her after her terribly haunting childhood of being forced into a life of crime.” Mrs. Laurent’s eyes were already red from crying, and now they were simply confused, as well. “Mrs. Laurent… Our legal team already has representatives here on behalf of Grace. I’m more than happy to extend their services to Simon, as well.”

“I don’t know that we can afford something like that…” the woman said. 

Mrs. Monroe doubted that Simon would have a problem with good legal representation, as she definitely already researched his net worth, but it was true that he didn’t have a team like the one that they did. “Don’t be silly. Our children come first, and it's clear that they are under attack right now. Why else would we be even be entertaining the notion that two beloved pillars of the community are somehow orchestrating a conspiracy theory to…” she gave Mace a look, “What were the claims? Killing a child trafficking gang member?” She finally took her coffee from Mrs. Laurent’s shaking hand, blew on it and took a sip, staring at Detective Mace, for dramatic effect.

It burned her tongue, but she didn’t flinch. 

Sieve came from the room that he had been allowed to use in order to speak with Simon and he and Mace touched base, going over the discussions. Simon hugged his mother and Mrs. Monroe stared at the detectives. Her husband approached with the DA on his cell phone to speak with Mace. They watched as he stammered and tried to explain things, then he handed the phone back and punctuated with conversation (pointed at Simon), with, “We’ll be in touch if further questioning comes about. At this moment, no charges will be filed.”

Simon’s eyes smiled and he politely said, “Thank you so much, for everything that you do to keep citizens safe.” Mace knew he was being sarcastic, though there was nothing to prove it and the Monroes had just made it clear that this entire lot would be a unified effort. In fact, the woman was rubbing Simon’s back and talking kindly to him while his mother offered him her coffee cup. Mace left angrily. Sieve seemed less upset, but he always was. 

The police were going to stay around for a while, and Grace was only allowed 3 visitors at a time. First, she saw her parents and the lawyer. Then, she saw Sunny, Xander, and Jalicia had come in too, by then. Then, her mom brought Mrs. Laurent in and the woman was trying to be very strong about having had it sprung on her this morning about Grace’s past and the entire situation with the police and things. Grace was extremely tired by the time that Simon finally got around to coming in. So tired, that she only saw his face, smiled, held his hand and fell to sleep, with him and the clock watching over her. 8:41 am.

15. I Trust Him With My Life

#AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #People Watching

[selfdulgent-selfinsert]

Caught in the Middle. (A self-indulgent, reader insert) Chapter 26:

Your fingers were frigid. The gun Joseph gave you absorbing any head your delicate fingers could ever have. Though you had no other way to carry it. Joseph’s holder wouldn’t fit you and anything loose and strappy was bound to be an incident waiting to happen. The apartment complex was grating on your nerves, blocked paths at every turn eventually forcing you down a few floors. Amongst the scattered fires and occasional trap, the building was quiet. A couple crows perched around the open windows and gaping holes in the side of the building. You smiled at them, the slight ruffling of their feathers making them look so fat. It was a brief escape; something simple that made you forget your surroundings.

 It was short-lived, however, with a loud thunk. Turning to see a large familiar beast; the dials of its safe head seeming to stare into your soul its hammer digging into the remaining drywall. “Fuck! (Y/n) the gun!” Joseph shouted, pushing you up in front of him as the two of you began to flee. Fumbling the pistol into his hands as you tried to stay ahead of Joseph, just thankful you hadn’t dropped it in the commotion. You could hear Joseph fire at the thing. Its heavy footsteps never staggering. While it had been long since you had seen the hulking creature it hadn’t laid a hand on you, but you weren’t about to find out if that had changed now.

Running through hallways, holes, and hazards; almost being caught in the scattered bear traps and mines more than once. The steps of the monster were hard to hear now. Slowing your pace in an effort to travel silently, Joseph keeping you in front of him. Turning to check behind him regularly. The halls behind were dark and silent. Many doors dotting along, many paths leading who knows where. Letting out a long sigh, stepping ahead and putting a bit more distance between you and him. Deciding it was unsafe to go back, the only way you could go was forward. Your escape was cut short, however, as you were passing through a small foyer one of the connecting doors burst open.

 The creature was back, this time separating you from joseph and pushing him back. Using its girth to zone Joseph further and further back. The shock freezing you momentarily but it put quite the distance between you and your friend. “Joseph!” Calling out for him though the beast blocked your path, stranded without a weapon. Joseph wasn’t exactly in a better position either; while the thing was a behemoth one wrong shot and he could risk hitting you. He wouldn’t hurt you again but thankfully the monster seemed focused on him and hopefully, he could lead it away from you. He could do that much after he let himself…

The monster took a swing at him with its large spiked hammer, the force of the blow shattering the adjacent drywall. Almost striking Joseph as he was lost in his own regret; the instinct to save himself was growing overwhelming as he turned and ran. You continued chasing after them, whatever possessed you to run and directly follow immediate danger you didn’t know? Even a nurse outside of this situation would hesitate to get in-between such a creature. The walls became more industrial. Like the bowels of a hospital, easy to clean and cold. Joseph turned, looking to aim at the monster but he was still too worried he may hurt you. He couldn’t see where you were behind such a large problem but he had to take some kind of action. He held the pistol up properly, taking aim as the creature lumbered closer. His finger on the trigger, muscles flexing tighter and tighter.

 He couldn’t do it. Making a quick dismissive click, Joseph turned and continued running. Unknowingly passing Sebastian who was hidden in the dark kitchen beside him; watching in silence as the monster picked up the pace behind Joseph. Moving quickly Sebastian tried to follow up behind, you darting into the junction forced him to pause. “(Y/N)!” Shouting brought you to a stop. Turning to the voice, a relived smile gracing your disheveled and bruised face. For Sebastian, it was if time had slowed down for a moment; the relief of seeing you making his shoulders lighter. He smiled back at you, moving forward to meet you in the light. The air behind you started to distort. The smile on Sebastian’s face faded as the specter of hate appeared behind you. A twisted smile plastered on his face, visible barely from the harsh shadow cast from his hood. Watching your face twist in confusion as his arm wove around you to seize your throat. Confusion replaced by immediate panic as your hand flew to try and pry the hand from your windpipe. Pulling you against him and whisking you away, leaving nothing but visual static and an empty hallway. The departure sending Sebastian into another nightmare. But this one made him groan. Ruvik was getting lazy, the man had the audacity to send what equated to a Roomba with knives taped to it. The spinning blades bounding around the kitchen, scratching the industrial metal before bouncing into another direction. The spraying fire, protruding spikes, and acid trap being the more prominent issue. It took him little time to escape the kitchen, coming out into the empty hall before the doors shut behind him. Looking down each way he huffed. There was no way he would know where you and Ruvik went; really it pissed him off to no end. You were growing on him, his desire to protect you was becoming less of an ingrained duty and more of a personal vendetta. Trauma bonding does that but after being alone for so long, the continuous interaction forcing his heart to open.

 The only thing he could do was try and get to Joseph, following down the hall in a light jog and into a meat locker. The cool air dusting his skin, making his hair stand on end. Just in time to watch Joseph escape in a dumbwaiter; leaving himself alone with the safe-headed monster…

 “God Damn it.”

  For once after he took you; your final location wasn’t trapped somewhere in his manor. Instead, a bright park full of swings and even a merry go round. Raindrops froze in place around you as you seemed to be encapsulated in a bubble of peace. The light sound of feet behind you forcing you to turn around.

“Can I… go home? Take the train all the way home?”

Leslie and Officer Kidman entered behind you. The landscape behind them stark against the friendly atmosphere of the park. The swings swaying as if in use. You couldn’t hear what Kidman had to say but soon as Leslie saw you he began shuffling into your arms. As he nestled in, you could see over his shoulder, Kidman raising her gun to you both. Panic overtook you, doing your best to move Leslie behind you. “I’m sorry (y/n). Get out of the way.”

Her tone was cold and forlorn. “Stop!” Sebastian came around one of the pillars marking the park entrance. His gun trained on Kidman, approaching slowly. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what he’ll become.” Kidman spoke, keeping her own gun pointed at you and Leslie.

“I do. I’ve seen it.”

“You don’t understand what Ruvik is after.”

“So tell me then. What is he after?”

Kidman cocked her gun; you were still able to stare down the barrel. Her hands were still. “I have orders. I can’t let him have Leslie.” She shifted, turning to look at Sebastian. That when you saw Joseph come out of hiding and quietly dart towards you. But the impending stress was too great, Leslie screamed. The piercing ringing coming back once more as the surrounding buildings seemed to shatter. Their windows cracking to sparkling dust under the noise. Leslie managing to escape your grip and dart away, but it all happened so fast. You tried to turn and follow only to hear a gunshot from behind you, Joseph falling on top of you. There was no new pain, but Joseph trapped you underneath him, like a dead weight. Trying to grab at Kidman's ankles as she ran after the poor boy. Letting out a scream of anguish as she slipped out of your grasp.

 The world again began crumbling around you, the earth giving way as if to swallow you whole. Leaving the weight of Joseph behind and you plunged into darkness. Falling seemingly endless, with no end in sight; at first, you were convinced the end was just going to come without warning. Falling splat onto a flat surface, but after what felt like minutes it never came. Shapes began whizzing past you. Like something out of a dream or even that one old book that everyone loves to reference; as they passed you could make out what they were. Your skin turned cold, falling through horrid memories of your past. Like a 3d horror movie they came at you, the people you saw in the ER clawing for you, begging for you to save them despite their inevitable death. Inner demons eating you alive as you fell endlessly. Their faces morphing between familiar and not rapidly while their touch burnt your skin. Swarming you to where you almost couldn’t feel the air moving past your falling form. Pulling at your hair; prying your mouth wider as you screamed. Tears welling in your eyes, the light from before a faint speck above you.

You felt as if everything was turning, instead of the falling sensation is seemed to shift until horizontal as if the mass was moving quickly over a plain. You couldn’t see it but you could feel the cool difference on your feet stark against your blazing surroundings; feeling as if you were on fire as you tried desperately to move your body forward. Your body struggling to push through grasping, gaunt hands and claws as your feet barely had traction on the ground. The heat was smothering; your heartbeat pounding wildly in your ears as your tears stung in your eyes. Able to work your hands free and to pull yourself forwards on the bony arms ahead; moving forward with momentum and determination. Your body catching up with your legs, preventing them from flailing about in an attempt to go forward.

The hoard clawing at your back as you broke free. Darting ahead in the darkness, though despite the lack of light, it wasn’t hard to see. It was like running through a void as it was simply filled with nothing but black. Turning while you sprinted proved to be a bad decision; wanting to see if you were still being haunted had you run full-on into a cement wall. It was covered in crumbling paint which came off a bit as you recoiled from the force at which you slammed into the wall. Splayed out on the floor, disoriented as you stared upwards at the ceiling.

“Please do not lay on the floor. Other patients may step on you.”

A voice to your left, it was apathetic, a bored tone bordering on annoyed. Craning your head, vision spinning as it finally settled on a woman, who dressed surprisingly familiar. Clad in the same white dress, cap, and red cardigan as you had been with her hair pulled back into a low brown ponytail. Small lensed glasses framing her bored eyes as she turned back to whatever she had at the desk in front of her. The quiet shuffling of paper was soothing as you slowly made your way upright. Taking care not to stumble, your hand rested on the wall and traveled upwards with you. Bumping into a corkboard hung on the wall it was covered in pinned missing posters, unfamiliar faces, the… woman standing behind the desk… switching your sight between her and the board rapidly trying to confirm or deny insanity. Though other papers caught your eye, Leslie… missing.

Dr. Jimenez, missing.

Joseph, missing.

Sebastian, again, missing.

You… Missing.

Your own face staring back at you. The image taken for your ID badge, bright smile included. Your hand shaking as you touched the paper, your smile ominous above the printed text. “Special Care Nurse at Beacon Mental Hospital. Last seen entering her apartment. No evidence suggests she had left the building.” Another poster peaked from behind yours, old and worn as the edges curled inwards. Ripping off your poster to reveal a man. His stare was cold and distant. It was Ruvik, much younger and unmarred. “Please don’t make such a scene. I know the missing wall can be hard to look at but you must try and keep in check. Lest the doctor need to prescribe you more medicine.”

Turning, indignant at her words and holding up the poster to your face, parchment crumpled from your grip.

“T – This is me! Can’t you see, this is me? Why do I have a missing poster? Why am I here!?!”

She went back to her paperwork. Huffing to herself as the shuffling of papers resumed as she gathered a stack, placing them into a manila folder before rounding the desk and proceeding down a hallway. Her voice grown faint as she left. “Some people just can’t be fixed.” Leaving you dumbfounded before rushing after her but all that greeted up was a short empty hallway. Four heavy looking doors lined the hallway with a mirror and small table adorning the end. One of the LED lights flickering above. “Hey!” You called into the hall. “Don’t leave me here… Please!” Voice timid and shaky. Turning around forcing you to take a step back; a horrid bastardization of a wheelchair sat ahead with restraints and sharp looking apparatuses adorning the contraption. It didn’t help that it sat under a single light within a tiny observation room. You dropped the poster, looking around for another way out and landing on a corridor behind the desk. It was dark but was worth a shot as you all but hopped the desk and once again ran into the darkness.

 The darkness was all-consuming but you couldn’t turn around, there was no light left behind you, it had closed off. The ground became squishy and revoltingly slimy; your aching feet sank into the muck, it seeping between your toes and into open wounds. Running around in rubble had surely destroyed your feet. Walking with your hands out in front of you, cautious of any sudden walls that may suddenly pop up, as they apparently do. Instead of a wall, something fleshy slammed into you, its grunt sounding suspiciously like Sebastian as it took you to the floor. The connection spurring the lights like a switch. The darkness was gone and in its place sterile walls reminiscent of the Beacons basement; the same hall you had brought Leslie down many times.

Sebastian was panting on top of you, his chest heaving. It was a moment before he lifted himself off of you. “(y/n)… good… I found you…” He slumped down again. Resting his head on the ground as his huge frame engulfed you, his arms digging under your body to wrap around you. He was heavy and honestly it was hard to breathe a bit but the pressure felt nice, calming in a sense and you almost didn’t want it to be over but it was getting slightly uncomfortable. “Sebastian, can we please get up? You’re kinda crushing me a little bit.” He whined as his arms retreated; pushing himself off and helping you upright. He brought you into another hug, his hands soft on your back, rubbing gently along your spine. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried about you. Did he… did he hurt you?”

 You paused, Ruvik had been so disinterested with you lately. Seemingly more interested in popping in only to pull you away somewhere for his own kicks. Yet he had only put you into danger, had had yet to hurt you again directly. Or at least that’s what you hoped. “No… no, Sebastian I’m fine.” His shoulders visibly dropped as he relaxed. “I made it across that train car.”

“Oh yeah?”

“No thanks to Ruvik but it was certainly a feat. Had me going so fast I ran into you.”

“So that’s what had you so worked up?”

You both shared a short laugh, it naturally faded and in its place was a comfortable silence. With your only way to go, through a pair of swinging doors, the small circular windows giving off a faint blue hue. Taking your spot behind Sebastian you approached the door. It creaked loudly as you entered, back again into a familiar room adorned with tubs and the central STEM device. Water pooled on the floor around the device, reflecting in the murky water was the specters of Ruvik and Dr. Jimenez.

“You published my research in your name again. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Ruvik spoke bitterly. Swathed in his tattered attire; it was odd as weren’t these ghosts nothing but memories? He approached with an accusing finger, his storm of anger towards Jimenez evident in his body language. Jimenez, however, leaned back on his heel smugly.

“And I have done you a favor.”

A pregnant pause as you and Sebastian moved closer.

 “You have no credentials. You’d never appear in a reputable journal otherwise"

Jimenez laughing gruffly at that statement. They kept speaking but you couldn’t hear them anymore. You were frozen, perplexed, shocked. Was Ruvik even a doctor? You’d never seen any credentials, nor anyone else interacting with him. His office had walls barren of proof and his work hidden away from the hospital. It all fits together too well. Sure Ruvik had knowledge, mountains upon so, surpassing many in a field he could maybe only grasp at in vain. His old missing poster… was he ever formally found? Did he just hide away in his family’s house for decades? How could he even?

The specters moved around you, no longer paying attention as you were lost in your own hypothesis as they burst into dust. Sebastian separating from you to poke about the room. You could feel a swell of pressure build in the room, making your racing thoughts painful. The swell seemingly emanating from the STEM system in the center of the room. Turning to look at it, half expecting Ruvik to be standing there but only to see the machine, whirring away. All the cords and wires reminding you of a brainstem. Sebastian spun, drawing his weapon and pointing at the machine. “Trying to make me feel sorry for you?!” Shooting at the machine as it flashed bright blinding orange, taking Sebastian with it. Leaving you in the empty room, with the machine and its misplaced brain. It began to quiver, shaking within the glass sphere and getting faster; becoming a blur before shattering the glass. Sending fine shards around the room. Forcing you to shield your face. Lest shrapnel get into your eyes. When you were able to let your arms down, your breath left. Your blood ran cold and skin crawled. Ruvik stood before you, his posture and expression smug as he sauntered towards you. Cornering you against a wall he imposed upon you.

“Sunflower, do not keep running from me.”

His cold fingers gripped your chin. “When we are out of here you will come with me. You are mine; there’s no one else who can fill you like I can. I own you, and I expect you to follow me to the ends of this earth. Of course, you have no choice in the matter.”

His fingernails dug into your flesh before he flung you across the room, sending you spiraling and into another hard surface.

 Landing in one of the many hallways of Beacon.

Sunlight streaming in from the windows, illuminating patient rooms. You couldn’t be sure which hallway it was as the hospital had many of the same stacked upon each other so your exact floor was a mystery. Despite the warm sun, the mood was ominous. A forgotten wheelchair sat casting a long shadow in the middle of the hallway; a blanket draped over the back. Rising from another hard floor you walked slowly. Your lone footsteps echoing down the hall. It was solemn and empty as you reached the wheelchair. Taking it gently in your hands and pushing it to the side of the hall and peering out the window into the courtyard. The greenery drifting gently in the wind. The word echoing through your head with each continuous step was ‘forlorn’. Reaching the end of the hall you turned and looked back. A feeling of finality as you stared back at the door, from where you came. The trial seemingly at your tail end as you opened the door, into a blinding light.

#caught in the middle #The Evil Within #the evil within fanfiction #the evil within x reader #ruvik x reader #Ruvik Victoriano #ruben victoriano x reader #ruben victoriano #yandere ruvik #joseph oda #joseph oda x reader #sebastian x reader #Sebastian Castellanos

[recentanimenews]

Bookshelf Briefs 1/4/21

Black Clover, Vol. 23 | By Yuki Tabata | Viz Media – Given we came to the end of a very long arc last time, it makes sense that there’s a lot of goofy comedy before we start the next arc (which has a timeskip!). Fortunately, Black Clover is pretty good at being dumb and goofy in a shonen way—I’ve said before that it’s ripping off every single shonen series in the world, but it’s not doing it badly. Therefore we get a lot of silly love confessions, and priestesses who wear spiral “nerd” glasses like Mousse from Ranma 1/2. Oh yes, and Asta is not executed—for now. They still think he’s totally evil, though. Hopefully fighting a devil may help to change that opinion. This has become one of the longest-running Jump series now, and it’s easy to see why it’s still going. – Sean Gaffney

Days of Love at Seagull Villa, Vol. 1 | By Kodama Naoko | Seven Seas – Another yuri series from this author, this book starts with one of our heroines fleeing to the countryside after her boyfriend gets her best friend pregnant. She’s there to teach (and boy, her class could use some lessons in “don’t slutshame and don’t bully”), but she’s also staying with a young woman who’s raising a kid alone after her whole family was killed. The two are seeming opposites, but turn out to possibly have much in common. The yuri so far here is just a drunken kiss, but I’m sure there will be more to it. That said, the series seems content to introduce its cast and then start to simmer things to a slow boil. That’s good too. I want to learn more about this village. – Sean Gaffney

Didn’t I Say to Make My Abilities Average in the Next Life?! Everyday Misadventures!, Vol. 1 | By FUNA and Yuki Moritaka | Seven Seas – I was expecting this to be a 4-koma sort of volume, but it isn’t. Instead it’s just goofy comedy chapters without the ongoing plot that we get in the normal series. So you get things like Reina trying to learn to cook, and Mavis getting hit on by women again, etc. The usual stereotypes apply—Pauline has large breasts, Mile is… well, Mile, Reina is hot-headed, etc. There’s also a flashback to Adele’s experiences at school, where it turns out that all the school’s “Seven Mysteries” are just her being stupidly overpowered. No one should get this who’s not a fan of the original, but those who are should be quite pleased. – Sean Gaffney

Dr. STONE, Vol. 14 | By Riichiro Inagaki and Boichi | Viz Media – Most of this volume is trying to rescue everyone from the evil village “god” and his even more evil minion, who is unfortunately more overpowered than most of our team. On the cool side, most of the rest of the group gets un-petrified after recovering their bodies from the ocean floor, thanks to the power of Taiju being really strong and really dumb. On the less-cool side, Kohaku and Ginro are now petrified, though frankly that’s a good thing in Ginro’s case, as he was bleeding to death. This is probably the biggest villain that Senku and company have had to face before, so it makes sense that he’s finally taking a very dark step (as he himself says) and bringing guns into this world. Great fun. – Sean Gaffney

Eniale & Dewiela, Vol. 1 | By Kamome Shirahama | Yen Press – I was told when I saw who the author of this series was that I should not expect it to be much like Witch Hat Atelier, and that’s an understatement if anything. Oh, the art is still amazingly gorgeous, but the content is very much designed for those who enjoy the dynamic of, say, Gabriel Dropout. An angel and a demon are best friends despite sniping at each other the entire volume. Eniale is a bit of a featherhead. Dewiela has a bit of a temper. Together, they get involved in Very Wacky Situations. How much you enjoy this will depend on how wacky you find the situations. I found it fun, but I think I would enjoy it better in a magazine chapter by chapter than in volume form. – Sean Gaffney

Hatsu*Haru, Vol. 13 | By Shizuki Fujisawa | Yen Press – This series about four couples—heavily overbalanced towards two of them—finally comes to a close by going back to its leads, as Riko’s mom is moving due to her job and… is NOT asking Riko to come with her. Yes, the final volume involves everyone trying to self-sacrifice the most, with lots of tears and angry words. Of course we know that Riko really needs to be with her mom, even if they may not have the best relationship, which of course means that she and Kai are now far from each other. Fortunately, it’s the final volume, so this can be resolved with a flash forward to college. This was a solid series, but I’ll remember it for Takaya and Ayumi more than anyone else—in fact, possibly just Ayumi. – Sean Gaffney

I Love You So Much, I Hate You | By Yuni | Yen Press – Ayako Asano and Saori Fujimura are both accomplished, successful career women working closely with each other at their company. But outside of the office they’re even closer—they’ve actually started sleeping with one another. Two women becoming romantically involved isn’t so much of an issue, but the fact that Ayako is both married to a man and is Saori’s boss poses some significant problems. I Love You So Much, I Hate You is a mature manga dealing with some mature themes. Initially, there are definite imbalances in Ayako and Saori’s relationship, each woman approaching it from a different starting point and hoping to get different things out of it. However, over the course of the volume their needs and desires begin to align. But it’s not easy for either of them for a variety of reasons; granted, a relationship that starts out as an affair is bound to be complicated. – Ash Brown

An Incurable Case of Love, Vol. 5 | By Maki Enjoji | Viz Media – Nanase and Dr. Tendo are a couple now, so, inevitably, we must introduce the rivals. This volume gives us the first one, a rich young man with a medical condition who cynically says that people only care about him because of his money. He runs into Nanase, who is, well, herself, and falls head over heels in love with her. I was impressed how the author took this old-standard josei manga trope and simply… had the leads act like adults. There are a few misunderstandings and small fights, but there’s no huge blowup or breakup, mostly as Dr. Tendo is very familiar with who Nanase is. That said, Nanase still has self-image issues, and the cliffhanger implies a stronger rival on the way. Maki Enjoji is always good. – Sean Gaffney

Kaguya-sama: Love Is War, Vol. 17 | By Aka Akasaka | Viz Media – While we’re still dealing with the consequences of Miyuki and Kaguya dating, the series really has gotten very good at the tiny little jokes. Including possibly the DARKEST ‘in between chapters’ gag I’ve ever seen, where Iino talks about how she enjoys pain as it makes her “feel safe.” As for Chika, I think she has realized that the author increasingly doesn’t know what to do with her. She probably does not have a big character-building arc like the other four, so she’s essentially the goofy one that annoys people, something she is catching on to. Though the funniest chapter in this book features Karen invading the main title from her spin-off manga—still sadly not licensed—and almost getting everyone arrested. – Sean Gaffney

Practice Makes Perfect, Vol. 3 | By Ui Hanamiya | Kodansha Comics (digitial only) – This volume has our lead couple finally going all the way, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t problems. For one, the first time HURTS, and even successive attempts are nine parts pain to one part pleasure for Nohara (who, amusingly, is still trying to handle this in a “sports” way, as is Yano). There’s also the fact that Yano thinks that Nohara is going to break if he tries to be anything but super super gentle, which… also is not helping, though it leads to the volume’s best joke. Fortunately, the next volume is the last. Unfortunately, it appears that we’re going to get a “hey, the girl I love spends her days surrounded by hot guys!” chapter. Still, this Rated-R manga is still a lot more fun than I expected. – Sean Gaffney

By: Ash Brown

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