#huh i mighta been onto something

[shares-a-vest]

It’s that time of year again. The Australian football season is in full swing so it’s my designated time to write. But PLOT TWIST! I have found myself, ahem… enjoying watching the sportsballmen sporting. Please keep me in your thoughts during this difficult time (or maybe read this projection onto Eddie).

-🏈🏈🏈-

“But, what about the foo-”

Eddie claps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from finishing that sentence. Something he should have never uttered in the first place. A statement that goes against the Munson Doctrine – and everything he ever uttered in gym class.

But it’s too late because Steve has frozen in place, one hand on his car keys still dangling by the hook near the front door, his other hand fisted into his Member’s Only jacket.

Eddie stills, his shoulders tensing up as he watches Steve slowly turn around, leaving his keys hanging and his jacket a-dangling off one arm.

Steve quirks a brow.

“Huh?” he says, feigning confusion as a sly smile tugs at the corner of his pretty mouth.

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. His boyfriend is really going to torture him over this, isn’t he?

“Nothing,” he shrugs and rocks back on his heels.

“I said…” Steve begins as he takes a step forward, “We should go grab dinner…”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie nods, folding his arms now as Steve moves closer – a protective shield that is completely useless when confronted with the flashiest of shit-eating grins.

“But then you said…”

Steve raises his eyebrows expectantly and adds a winding hand gesture that Eddie supposes is meant to get him to admit to the thing he just mighta-sorta said, but not technically finished saying…

“I didn’t say anything,” he blatantly lies, shaking his head so much that he can feel his hair swishing about.

“It sounded like…” Steve teases as his big, strong and utterly irresistible hands come to rest on his shoulders, “You wanted to stay home and watch football.”

He quickly follows up with a gasp and bites his bottom lip just to be an even bigger nightmare and goddamn it! he looks so cute and Eddie wants to see him do that at least three more times as soon as possible.

Eddie sighs. He can feel his lip quivering as Steve looks him up and down, blushing like he has just been let in on the world’s biggest secret.

Something Eddie didn’t know himself until like, two minutes ago.

He scrunches his nose.

“Stevie,” he warns.

Steve holds up his pinky finger.

“Won’t tell a soul,” he giggles, wiggling that stupid, not-so-little finger in total knowing condescension.

Eddie captures the digit in his hand and presses a kiss to the tip of it.

“Let’s…” he spits, holding on for dear life.

“Watch the game?” Steve beams, all giddy and proud.

#sportsball eddie 🏈 #just gonna make this a tag in case i write more of this kinda thing as I work through these new feelings lmao #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie munson headcanons

[bluebearial]

Comfort Zone: Chapter 2

A loose sequel to Contact Heal.

Click here for Chapter 1! CW for Vore mention???

View the full thing on Docs here!!

4.5k words

A short while later, you would find Lupa in the living room. She is splayed out upon a couch that’s a few sizes too small, resting her chin on the backrest and looking out the window. Her ears angle back towards you, and her head whips round as you step closer. As her gaze lands on you, her tail begins to wag. It isn’t the happy, unabashed wag you’re used to. It flits left and right, betraying a worrying sense of tension.

“Oh! Um. Hey,” she greets you with all the smoothness of a cheese grater, “I was wonderin’ where you were! Thought you mighta gotten lost.”

“Lupa, are—”

“We should really get movin’, huh? What’s that thing you always say? Um, ‘early to bed, early to rise’?” You absolutely do not say that.

“Are you alri—”

“I mean, hey. Good thing you don’t work today, huh? That would’a been a disaster. Though gosh, I don’t blame you for bein’ so scared earlier. Like, who really wants to lay around and snuggle all da—"

“Lupa!”

She hushes up immediately. Her ears flatten, her tail freezes, and she even winces under your voice. The sight of it makes you immediately regret it, but you breathe deeply and press on.

“…Lupa,” you nearly whisper in an effort to level your voice – and your emotions. “What, is, um…” You sigh as you catch yourself, opting to choose your words more carefully, “Is something the matter?”

“…Nnno?”, she puts her paws together, awkwardly fidgeting her fingers. She speaks delicately. “Nothin’s the matter. Everything’s… fine.”

“You ran away! You left your collar behind.” You take a moment to hold it up. She paws at her neck, a look of realization flashing across her face. “And you’re acting str--…” You catch yourself again. You figure you should be careful.

“Something’s… off.” You decide to settle on that. “Did something happen?”

“Oh my god, dude. I’m tellin’ you, nothin’ ha--…”

Her voice croaks and falters as you give her a pained look.

“—ah... It’s... hard to talk about?” she offers instead. You sigh, climbing onto what little usable couch space there is. She huddles up a bit to make room for you.

“How come?” You play with the collar, rolling and squeezing it between your fingers. It’s a big, heavy thing with a soft, leathery surface. Its metal spikes glint in the light. “Come on, Lu… I want to help.”

She doesn’t answer. Not verbally. You watch as she continues to fidget with her paws, looking down and away from you. Every now and then, she steals a glance at you. Every time, her eye darts away as she realizes that you’re still looking at her. She moans, she grumbles as her words fizzle and die before they’re spoken. She was so comfortable with you before. Things were going so well before… Before…

“…Is it the ‘babe’ thing?”, you carefully ask. She nods, an embarrassed grin forcing its way across her face.

“But—But why? What’s wrong with that?” You ask, thoroughly confused. You even find yourself tilting your head, feeling your stomach begin to knot up.

“I, y’know…! I, uh, kinda made it awkward, didn’t I?” she squeaks out, tilting her head away and rubbing her arm. You didn’t know her voice could go that high. She doesn’t stop there.

“I, I’m getting too comfortable. I keep making it sound like, like-- As if we’d actually, like, be together or, somethin’. I kinda regret it. I was so, y’know, sappy,” she says, sticking her tongue out as she practically spits that final word. Okay. Ouch? That knot only tightens.

“…Do you really regret it?”

“I... Well…” She looks away now, putting a paw up to her mouth. Her tail has long since stopped its wagging, lifelessly draping over the couch’s front instead.

“But- But why? Why are you worried about being sappy? We literally kissed before, you know.” You didn’t mean to sound so indignant, but - You figure she couldn’t have forgotten that. Though from the way she looks at you, you suspect it may be the case. “And we snuggle every night. There’s nothing sappier than that.”

“…Oh. Oh yeah.”

“Lu…” You coo, standing from the couch and walking alongside her. “What—”

“But—” she cuts you off, “Look. Come on. Would’ja really like me if I was sappy all the time? I mean, with the way you looked at me when I called you, uh. That. It…”

“Wait. Did you—… Did you think I didn’t like it?” You look up at her, and she looks right back. The edges of her mouth twitch, before breaking into a nervous, wry grin. Her paw pomfs the back of her head, and she lets out an airy little laugh.

“…Yyyeah… A little…” She almost sounds forlorn. As she deflates onto the couch, you sigh. Relief drowns your own despondency for the time being, but now…

“Hey, it’s okay…” you take her paw in your hand – as best as you can, at least. “The truth is, I love it when you’re like that. It makes me feel…” you stop yourself, feeling your body heat up. You squeeze her paw. “…It felt really, really nice.”

She hums indecisively. From this side, her hair obscures her face, so her expression is hard to read. She gently pulls her paw out of your hand, rolling over on the couch. Crossing her arms, she curls up a bit. Looking at her, you do feel bad. Thankfully, you’ve got just the thing for this.

“…Lupa...” You put your hands on your hips. She offers a hum in response, looking nowhere in particular. “Lupa.”

“Mmm,” she angles her head just enough to look at you, “What?”

“Come here.”

“I’m right next to you, dude.”

“No, like. Come closer,” you clarify. With a scoff, she rolls slightly, leaning her big, soft face towards you. You pounce on the opportunity, pinching her fluffy cheeks and giving them a nice tug.

“Ah—Ahh! Wha’ are you doiiiing?” she whines, grimacing as you pull and stretch her face.

“Making you feel better,” you say matter-of-factly, holding fast in the face of her token efforts to pull away from you.

“It’sh nawt helpii~iing,” she grumbles and growls.

“Oh? Oh yeah? I guess you’re right,” you relent. The tugging stops, and you instead cup her cheeks. They fit so snugly in your palms, tufts of dark grey fur slipping between your fingers. She doesn’t look sad anymore, just a little annoyed. You figure it’s because of the tugging. Oh well. Thankfully, you also know how you can help with that.

You kiss her.

You pull yourself closer, closer, until your nose meets her snout. You always did like the way her plump, dark lips felt against yours. You hear a short, quiet moan – betraying her surprise before she leans into it herself. A familiar thump-thump-thump reaches your ears as her tail whips the couch. You don’t hold the kiss for too long. By the time you pull away, she looks much more relaxed. You feel a lot better too.

“Ha, woooow,” she teases, “You are sooo corny.” You roll your eyes as you wonder which is cornier - the fact you tried it, or the fact that it worked? You don’t say any of that aloud, though.

“Alright, alright. You don’t want to be ‘sappy’ all the time,” you begin, “I get it. But. If it makes you happy… Why don’t you lean into it? I’ll love you just the same. Who would I be to judge?” Her, wide smug smile falters.

“I’d be judgin’ myself, more than anything…”

“…Well,” you stumble for a moment, “Aren’t you the big, bad wolf? Wolves do whatever they want, don’t they? They don’t let their inhibitions stand in the way.”

“And… you’re not gonna judge me for it?” she asks, resting her head against the cushion. You shake your head.

“When have I ever?” you ask. She stews on it for a second, before cracking a smile.

“Fair enough,” she says with some acceptance. “Sorry ‘bout that. I, um. …Thanks.” She stammers it out, but you really appreciate hearing her say that.

“I love you too, Lulu.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she huffs, waving her paw, “Don’t get too comfortable ‘cause—”

“Dummy.”

“Wh—Hey—”

“Hm?” You act coy. You don’t give her any time to react before continuing. You hold up her collar, gently swinging it from side to side. “Oh, you forgot something. Since you ran off earlier, I couldn’t put this back on for you.”

“…Oh!” You could practically watch her mind switch gears. “Right, yeah. Alright, stick it on me then.”

“I dunno…~” You lilt, putting it behind your back, “Do I want to, though? Maybe I don’t.”

“Wh—You can’t do that! That’s mine,” she sneers, crossing her arms, “It won’t even fit on you.”

You… weren’t thinking of wearing it yourself, but you roll with it. “…Maybe not. But if you want it back, then… I think my big, bad wolf is gonna have to work for her prey.”

“Oh?” Her ears perk up. Then, a much more understanding “Ohhhh…~” as she puts the pieces together. “You want me to chase you down, huh?” You nod, and she barks out a laugh.

“You wouldn’t stand a chance,” she taunts you with a grin. “You really think you can outrun me?”

“Maybe,” you say, “Maybe not. Let’s find out.”

“Hah! Alright, your funeral,” she says with a worrisome lack of care. With a grunt, she gets up from the couch, taking a moment to toss her hair. She looks down at you with the most confident grin you’d ever seen, a far cry from the shy, awkward wolf from before. She paces around you, gradually bending over until her forepaws touch the ground.

“Nnh-hnnh-hnnh,” she stifles a chuckle. “Well? You gonna make the first move or what?” You’re practically glued to the floor. Even on all fours, she’s as tall as you are. She had an animalistic edge to her before, but seeing her like this only amplifies it. You get the growing feeling that you’ve made a mistake. She lets out a snort, and you watch as she creates some distance. After a few feet (paws?), she turns to face you. She lowers her front, keeping that butt in the air, wiggling it as her tail whooshes gleefully behind her. Her claws dig into the carpet and her arms tense a bit. Then…

“WROOF.”

You yelp! Just the shock from her bark made you slip and fall. Good thing too – if you hadn’t, she would’ve gotten you then and there. Instead, she sails right over you, landing back on all fours a few feet away. You scramble to get up as her claws dig into the carpet again, signaling her impending charge. You hear two pairs of paws gallop behind you as you sprint into the kitchen, nearly wiping out as you round the corner and duck behind the counter. There’s a soft fwoosh behind you, then a heavy thump. Satin paw pads lose their grip on the slick tile floor, sending your hunter careening into the wall. Looking back, you could see that she was stunned, only just beginning to dust herself off. You take the opportunity to hide. But where? Your eyes dart to the sink, the garbage can, the oven – all terrible spots. You decide that in the absence of anything else, the cabinets will have to do? It beats trying the oven anyway. You slip into the nearest one, pulling it shut behind you. You leave it cracked, just a little bit. Enough to see out without making it obvious.

From what you could see, Lupa was still rubbing her head, groaning and growling and cursing to herself. She runs her paw carefully along the wall, checking for damage you suppose, before scanning the room. She’s back up on just her two legs for now, thumping her way along.

“Where aaaare you~?” she ponders. “You little lamb.” She kicks the garbage can over with a clatter, snorting as nothing but balled up papers and tin cans tumble out. You watch as she scans the counters, before “Ah-ha!” No way – she opens the oven. And then, “…Nope,” she mutters with resignation as she pushes it shut. You weren’t seriously going to hide in there. Come on. You almost feel insulted she’d even think that.

But then…

Sniff sniff. Sniffff…

Lupa angles her head up as she samples the air. Her eye widens. Then, she grins. Then…

She just sits there. More than that – she sits down in that doggy sort of way, curling her tail around her forepaws. Then, she lays down. All the while, she’s looking right at you.

You put your hands to your face. Oh my god, you’ve actually trapped yourself. You forgot she could just sniff you out. She’s a wolf. What are you going to do? You opt to make a break for it – to burst from the cabinet and run. You figure you might have a chance, right?

The moment you hop out, Lupa leaps into action. You make it a few feet at least, but she nearly pounces you before you get far. Somehow, you manage to escape. For now. You grab at the wall as you round another corner, darting down the hall back towards your bedroom.

“C’mon, babe! Y’gotta run a lil’ faster than that! I’m gaining on youuuu~!” You know she’s just messing with you, but oh god she sounds close.

“Sh-shut up!” You bark, looking back at her. You immediately wished you hadn’t, because that wolf is hot on your heels. You could tell she wasn’t putting her all into it either. With legs like hers, she was almost trotting along—

For a few seconds, your world spins. Then, a thunk as you come back down. The ceiling is all you can see, and you realize that you’re laying against the floor. Lupa’s head slips into view as she skids to a halt nearby, worry coloring her face as she looks down at you.

“Oh no! Hey, hun, are you alright?” The gruffness disappears from her voice as she kneels down.

“Yeah—Yeah, I’m good,” you offer, rubbing your head. It doesn’t hurt. That bad, at least. “I think I tripped. Must have.” You look towards the doorway, specifically where the hallway’s wooden floor meets your carpeted bedroom. Maybe your foot got caught in the seam?

“Do you… Do you wanna call it off? I don’t want you to, y’know—”

“Nope! I’m, I’m good,” you grunt as you get back up. You try not to stumble. “I’m alright. See?” Lupa squints…

“Come on,” you sag your shoulders. “Collar? Remember?” At that, she rolls her eyes.

“Alright, alright…” she seems to relent. Putting a paw to her mouth, she closes her eyes and politely clears her throat.

“Grrrrrr.”

Growling and baring her teeth, she gets back on all fours, prompting you to gingerly step away. Your back hits the bed, and you feel your way along it, not once taking your eyes off the wolf as she stalks you down. You find your way the other side of the bed, hoping to keep it between you and her. However, she hops on top of it, causing the mattress to creak under her weight. This, wasn’t good. Your back is against the wall, figuratively and – if you stepped back just a few more feet – literally. You grab at a nearby pillow, and toss it at the creature. To your astonishment, she catches it. Clamped in her jaws, she gives you a smug look. Lupa shakes her head, chewing on it, before tossing it up. As it comes down, she manages to completely wolf it down. It forms a bulge in her neck that disappears as it slips into her depths. You really hope you aren’t next.

Okay, a part of you hopes that you’re next. You wonder just what it’s like inside her, especially with a tummy that soft. As your mind wanders, you consider giving in to her.

But. You’re supposed to be running. So, you do just that! Priorities, after all. You slip into the space beneath your bed. It’s a little tight for you, which means that it’s impossible for Lupa to follow. She hops off the bed to have a look for herself, and she sneers at you.

“Oh, c’mon! This has to count as cheating, right? How’m I supposed to even try and get you?”

“Dunno!” You act coy, “Guess I win this time.”

“Oh. Wait,” she says in a flat voice. You hardly get the chance to ponder what she could’ve meant before a big, grey arm jams its way under the bed towards you. A fat, wolfish paw grabs your arm and tugs you out. You start to kick your legs as your panic begins to mount. You clutch the collar tighter, ever tighter, using your other hand to grab at the carpet. It’s fruitless. Your fingers find no purchase against the floor’s short fibers. Light blinds you for a moment as you are dragged out from your hiding place. You let out a grunt as the paw, formerly grabbing you, now pins you to the floor with its soft, smothering weight.

“Almost forgot,” she says with a tinge of humor in her voice, “I have paws. I can just grab you.” You, on the other hand, don’t find it very funny. You were sure that you were going to win that time. You give her your best pout, crossing your arms as she looms over you – something she loves to do, you note.

“So,” she continues, “Little mouse. Guess this means I get to eat you up, huh?” She tilts her head, pausing for effect. You can only watch as her tongue laps over her lips, revealing her sharp, shiny teeth for just a fleeting moment. However, that moment was enough to make your heart leap.

“Um—Uhh…” For some reason, words are hard to come by. Lupa hushes you with a deep snarl, giving you all the reason you need to keep quiet. She keeps her eye on you as she leans in, and you flinch as her muzzle brushes against your cheek. That tongue makes itself known again. This time, she licks across your face – the pink satin of her tongue leaving a faint wetness in its wake. The wolf is completely over you now, dominating you with her sheer size alone. Her nuzzling moves further down, and you feel her plastic teeth start to pinch at your neck. The feeling jolts you out of your stupor.

“Ah—H-Hey! Lupa! You can’t eat me yet!” You sputter, squirming beneath your captor. Her nibbling stops, and she lifts her head.

“How come?”

“You—You need me to put your collar back on! Remember?” You make sure to hold it up for her to see. An amused huff is her response, and she pushes herself off of you.

“I guess you’re right,” she says with a roll of her eye, “I almost forgot. And here I thought you were just my breakfast.” She turns around and gets on her knees, brushing her hair aside to reveal her neck. You… can’t help but stare for a moment, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. It isn’t until she looks back at you, muttering a commanding “Well?”, that you feel prompted to get up.

“Goodness, Lu…” you mumble as you shuffle behind her. You don’t bother standing up completely, instead opting to move along on your knees. You try to heft her tail aside, but it keeps placing itself in the way with an audible flop. You suppose that that’s what happens when you have a tail this thick and fluffy.

“Somethin’ givin’ you trouble?” She lilts, just before that tail whaps you. You almost fall over, and you swear you hear a snicker. “All you gotta do is put my collar on! What’s the big deal, dude~?”

“You’re not making it easy!” you retort. Another snicker. You grumble as you regain your balance, and you decide to straddle her tail as best as you can. It squishes beneath you, allowing you to sink into that fine, grey ocean of fur. That appendage moves beneath you, rhythmically shifting left and right. The lower half of it, free from your weight, swishes through the air behind you. You have to lean against her back to reach her neck, so you do just that. Unlike the fine, grey and white fur of her front, her back is covered in a pelt of dark grey. You can’t resist. You sift through her back fur, noting how much longer and coarser it is than her cushy front. Your hand could outright disappear under that coat. Small, white spots break up the dark monotone, and you aim for one of them as you nuzzle up to her.

“Oho~ Hey-hey, dude~ Did you forget something? Eyes on the prize,” she teases, arching her back. You open your eyes – when did you close them? – and reluctantly rip your face away from your comfy, comfy wolf.

“Oh my god! Right. Uh, sorry.” You clear your throat, keeping a shred of composure. “Sorry. It’s just so easy to…”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” she mercifully interjects, “I know.” Then, a pause. “…I feel the same when I look at you.”

“…Weren’t you worried about being sappy?” You ask, cracking a smile.

“Holy shit, shut up and put the collar on. You dweeb,” she rolls her eye. You let out a wistful sigh, and do as she says. You lean up against her again, straddling her tail to use it as leverage (and to keep it from whipping you). She keeps her hair lifted out of the way, allowing you to slip the collar around her neck. You briefly let go of one end of it, before reaching around her neck to pull it tight.

“Hey, can you keep it loose this time?” she asks, turning her head slightly, “I don’t like it when it’s tight. It chafes my neck sometimes.”

“Yep,” you reply with a nod, “Don’t you worry.” You buckle it up, making sure to adjust it so that it hangs a bit loose.

“Hey, thanks,” she beams. You open your mouth to say something, that it’s not a problem, but you notice that her back is coming closer. And closer. Her forepaws leave the ground, casually swinging forward as she threatens to come down on top of you. It’s only through sheer luck that you manage to escape, diving to the side as your fluffy skyscraper collapses next to you.

“Lupa!” you scold, dusting yourself off as you stand, “I just washed your hair!”

“Ah-ah,” she holds up a stubby finger, “You didn’t wash it. You brushed it.” You puff out your cheeks. Still… You’d’ve liked it if she didn’t get herself dirty…

“Hey. C’mere,” she reaches out toward you, making grabby-paws in your direction, “I’m supposed to like, eat you or somethin’, right?”

“I think you’ve had enough breakfast, Lu,” you cross your arms. “You ate my pillow.” She snorts as you tack on an “Again.”

“Oh yeah! I did, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to – it just kinda happened. Hey – look at it this way.” Her paws start to run across her chubby, thickly-padded middle, before giving it a nice squeeze. “It’s still in here. Maybe it’s better this way.~” she coos, a soft pomf reaching your ears as she gives herself a nice pat. Your cheeks redden, and you know damn well why. You didn’t really mind her… eating habits, too much. They’re the reason why she’s so big – why she’s so soft. She was a better pillow than anything you could buy. Her layers of memory foam, supported by the thickest, warmest stuffing… Her dense faux fur is always so incredibly soft to the touch. It was like, to avoid the more obvious comparison, having a big fursuit to snuggle on. What ties it all together is the fact that it’s all attached to such a charming personality. You couldn’t ask for a better housemate. All of that is to say, it’s the reason for which you kneel down and wrap your arms around her middle, resting your head against her plush, round tummy.

That, and… you feel a headache coming on again.

White fur against your face as you nuzzle in a bit. Absent-mindedly, your hand wanders to the top of her fuzzy belly. Gently at first, you start give it a rub. Her tail sweeps the floor, and she lets out a “Wrrrff…”

So, you ramp it up. Digging your fingernails in, using both hands, you tousle her fur as you really get in there. Lupa bites her tongue, trying to keep any more doggy noises from coming out, but you still hear the odd “Rrrff,” and “Mwrrrffff…” every now and then. Her tail’s still wagging, that’s for sure. After a while, you slow down, settling back against her with a sigh.

“You okay?” You hear her ask.

“I think that fall might’ve hurt a little more than I was letting on,” you admit. Your head throbs a bit, confirming that notion.

“…’M sorry about that,” she says quietly.

“Not your fault…” you groan. You feel a weight atop your head, and - you already start to feel better, as her pillowy paw gently strokes through your hair. It’s a moment before you speak up again. “…Hey, why don’t we head back to the kitchen? I think some breakfast will help. …And it’ll help me stomach the aspirin I’ll probably have to take.”

“Hm. Hmm…” You hear her hum. “Tch. Youuu… know, what’ll help even more, though?” From how awkward it sounded, you could tell she was leading into something.

“Mmwhat’s that?” As you try not to doze off against her, she picks you up. Lupa kneels in front of you, and you find yourself kneeling as well. She tilts her head, as if to size you up. She furrows her brow, rubbing her cheek and glancing away. With a flick of her tail, she sighs. Moving closer, she plants her lips squarely on your forehead. Her paws smush your shoulders as she uses you as leverage – not the best idea, you figure, as you nearly flop over under so much weight.

“Um. There.” Once she’s done, she rubs her cheek again. “Feel better?” Her expression looks as complex as before, though you notice her paw awkwardly rubbing along the ground.

“Yeah,” you say, “I do actually.” It’s your turn to rub your cheek, heart a-fluttering. You sigh.

“I love you, Lupa,” you continue. Her pawing stops as her ears angle towards you. She stares, but her expression soon softens.

“Love you too, babe.”

For now, the idea of breakfast, and time itself, slips your mind. You’ll get to that. Eventually.

-- THE END --

#writing #writers on tumblr #lupa #living plush #plush #wolf #girl #writeblr

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Arezu thinks that because they're both wardens and wearing Clan uniforms that she and Ingo more similar to each other than they are to the other two. She is sadly very mistaken. Actually, does she even know that Ingo isn't native? Sure he's the weirdest person in Hisui, including the protag, with weird clothes and turns of phrase, but that's easily handwaved as prophet bullshit. Unless the Pearl Clan kinda rolled him out like, "hi, thank you all for coming, this is Ingo, he's our newest warden and... drumroll please... a prophet of Sinnoh who fell from the sky onto our lands! Boom our Sinnoh is clearly the correct one since they blessed us with him and not you, suck it haters." But yes, Arezu is really the only one on this trip who actually cares about their god, aside from maybe Lilligant and the protag. Even Sneasler, a noble descended from Sinnoh's champions, is just here because that's where her dude and the entertainment are. Ingo and Cyllene are most definitely in the "not my god" camp.

Yes, oh my god, and now I also can't help but think that in OoP she was pretty bummed out that she was tasked with keeping Rei out of the fray when Emmet turned out to be a really good battler who made that fight look awesome lol. Wait, okay okay, so we know that when you fight Ingo with his own team he says part of Emmet's pre-multi battle lines. What if, were he to battle against another person with Sneasler as either his ace or a 1v1, he did part of Emmet's pre-super double battle lines instead? Telling them to give it their all, because if a battle is not serious, it is not fun.

Well, my thinking re: catching pokemon to break the frenzy, was because when you catch an alpha pokemon in the game it's completely chill afterward. Fighting them to a k.o. might work too, since part of breaking the nobles' frenzy is wearing them down enough for the bags of comfort food to actually work their magic, but if the option is fight or catch, catching is probably easier in most cases because it won't completely exhaust their pokemon. And also catching in pokeballs is really the only thing I could think of that could be even vaguely vaccine-esque that'd also work with arceus sending a teenager from the future to fix things, especially if we keep the seek out all pokemon mandate. Maybe arceus gives the protag the ability to like, imbue pokeballs with a bit of their power or something, idk.

If battling can break the frenzy if they're knocked out, then the best case scenario would be for Lilligant to frenzy first, because should the others somehow not be able to stand up to her, Sneasler would be on her level and also super effective against her. The frenzy would give Lilligant an extra boost, so it likely couldn't just be Sneasler though. If battling on its own doesn't work and the nobles have to be caught somehow... well that might cause problems with the clans, for one thing.

LOL YEAH... sorry arezu you might have been right if you were paired with Literally Any Other Warden but nope you got the weirdo one instead. and HMM that's a good question... lol you know what would be funny is if the other wardens don't really know not bc ingo intentionally didn't tell them but bc he. didn't realize it was news. like everyone in the pearl clan knew immediately bc they were There when he got there, but the diamond clan wardens? everybody just forgot to update them on it. but that might not be super believable either... it might be like ounce of prevention's adaman, where she knows he's not native bc that's fairly obvious just from talking to him but didn't realize he was from The Sky. or maybe not idk!

wkwjhwjh YEAH she mighta been huh. and. OOOOH... aaaa man that little bit of trivia still hurts my heart so much and this spin on it is SO good... yes yes i love it. also the fact that he presumably remembers the multis lines in canon bc he would have been hearing those semi-daily when they battled together, but if the super doubles lines are also so close to hand then that means he's also heard those really frequently, maybe bc they spar battle each other in different formats a lot too which is already a hc of mine and YEAH. I LIKE IT

no no yeah i think the reasoning for this au works i was just saying that it's kind of. a goofy decision on the part of canon to make that work shksjhskjh. i think to make the "seek out all pokemon" thing more plot relevant it's actually a very elegant solution!! and ooh "imbuing pokeballs with divine power" is a cool thing... then i wonder if instead of balms, it works functionally the same way but you're hucking blessed pokeballs at them instead? hmm

ooh yeah, maybe sneasler's battling to keep her attention and wear her out, and then the protag is busy lining up a throw? but YEAH problems with the clans is a fair point... although lilligant's warden would be there to sign off on it so maybe that would give them some legitimacy? idk

#the nemesis speaks #the nemesis answers #anonymous #origin visions au

[kaijuscientists]

Company

My fill for the SFW day 2 prompt: Hurt/Comfort of @dincobbweek

Title: Company

Cobb's supposed to meet Din at a seedy bar in Mos Eisley, but he’s running late and a group of regulars are giving him trouble.

Cobb sits at the bar of a dive in Mos Eisley, waiting for Din. He’d contacted him the day before, on short notice, but he was going to be in the sector and stopping on Tatooine, and Cobb was not about to pass up spending a night with his Mando.

So, Cobb had hightailed it all the way from Mos Pelgo, excitement simmering in his belly at the prospect of seeing Din again.  Unfortunately, it seems Din is running late. Cobb checks his chrono for the fifth time, an hour and a half past when Din had said he’d be there. 

He’s already had a few drinks waiting, and he’s just minding his own business, enjoying his liquor when a rowdy group of humans walk in and situate themselves at the bar. It doesn’t take them long to single Cobb out of the slim crowd, 

“Never seen you here before.” one of them asks. A skinny looking, nerf herder of a guy. 

“Ain’t never been here before.” Cobb says, swirling his drink in his glass. 

“What brings you in?” “Meetin’ someone.” 

“Who ya meetin?” “A friend,” Cobb says, feeling his temple start to flare. “That ok with you?” 

“I dunno.” A second guy chimes in, with a bigger build to him. “Depends on who’s comin’ doesn’t it.” 

“Well, I don’t personally see how that’s any of your business.” Cobb says. 

The last guy, big and bald, starts now. He’d been sizing Cobb up, looking him up and down.  “You’re not from around here are you?”

“I’m about as tatooine as you get.” Cobb says, pushing his empty glass across the counter. The bar keep refilling it, looking like he wants to say something, maybe tell these guys to behave, but it’s not worth the effort or what it might cost him in tips. 

“Based on that accent of yours.” The big guy says, “I’d say you are from some out skirt moisture farm.” 

That makes Cobb’s hackles rise instantly. 

“What business have you got here, really?”

“I told you” Cobb says, tenuous grasp on his temper slipping. “I’m just meeting a friend. Leave me be.” 

“Why don't you just get out of here.” The bald one says, Cobb guesses that he’s probably the one in charge. “This is our bar, and I'd personally like to drink in peace.” 

“Then just leave me alone, partner.” Cobb says, every hair on the back of his neck bristling as one of the guy's lackeys starts to circle him where he sits.  Cobb bows his head, breathes deep. Last thing he needs is to start a fight. He should at the very least wait for Din to arrive before he does that. “I’m not lookin’ to start anything.”

Cobb rolls his shoulders when the guy leans in close, breathing down his neck and it takes all of his self control to not throw back his head and break the guy's nose right there.   

“Hey,” Skinny says, motioning at Cobb’s scarf. “I think this guy has a brand under there.” 

“Oh, you’re a slave, huh.” The leader says, his interest suddenly piqued.  “That sure explains a lot.” 

“I ain’t been a slave in a long time.” Cobb says through grit teeth, his knuckles white as he grips his glass. “Now i’m only gonna ask nice one time — back the fuck away from me.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.“ Leader says. “You got any papers?”  

“Maybe we oughta take him in, just in case,” Skinny says, still hovering around Cobb’s back.  “Might get a reward.” 

Cobb slowly pushes away from the bar, ready to cut his losses at this point and leave the bar, maybe he could try to find out what’s keeping Din. 

“Hey you ain't going anywhere, lemme get a good look at that brand.” The leader guy says, finally reaching out and trying to grab Cobb. 

Cobb doesn't like that one bit, his arm shooting out and knocking the man's hand away before he can make contact. “Do not fuckin’ touch me.” 

That’s when the guy behind him decides to grab him, and this time he does throw his head back, hearing and feeling the sickening crack of cartilage as someone's nose breaks. Followed by some muffled cursing as he’s let go. 

“I did warn you.” Cobb says, losing no time before launching himself at the leader, throwing a punch that lands on his jaw and knocks him back.  He quickly spins, throwing another punch at the bald guy, and kicking back to land a kick in the skinny guy's stomach. 

Cobb kneel’s, laying into skinny, punch after punch, until the big guy throws his arms around Cobb’s neck, pulling him back and off his friend. Cobb, reacting on pure instinct at the point, sinks his teeth into the man's forearm, making him let go with a furious scream. 

“You little shit.” The leader yells, grabbing Cobb by the back of his shirt and throwing him to the ground, where he lands sprawled on his belly on the dirty floor, gasping as the wind is knocked from his lungs. 

He’s flipped on his back, and before he can wiggle free, he’s pinned to the ground, knees digging harshly into his chest. 

“Lemme go.” Cobb growls, fighting against the hold, kicking out with his legs, 

“Oh shut up.” the guy says, drawing back his fist, slamming home into Cobb’s face several times in quick succession. 

Cobb is left dazed with his ears ringing when the weight holding him down suddenly relents. He tries to get up, only for sharp pain to explode in his side, as heavy boots collide with his chest over and over. He rolls onto his side, trying to curl into a fetal position to protect his middle. 

Until everything goes quiet and stops.  

Cobb forces his eyes open, uncovering his face to find everyone's attention is on the door. He lets his head fall to the side, and sees a blurry figure standing backlight in the entrance. 

A silhouette he’d recognize anywhere. 

“You’re fucked now.” Cobb groans.

“Is that who you were waiting for?”

Cobb just smiles, blood on his teeth. 

Din walks into the bar, approaching the group with his hand resting on his blaster.

“I think it would be wise if you took your leave.” Din says. And when no one moves a muscle, only staring wide eyed, Din unholsters the blaster and points it right in the man's face who’s holding Cobb down. “Now.” 

The three run, leaving just Din, Cobb, and a few other patrons. 

“For your trouble.” Din says, tossing a few credits on the bar.

“I’m glad you showed up.” Cobb says, as Din lifts him to his feet, he sways until Din gets a hand on his waist to steady him. “I… I coulda taken‘em though.” Cobb mutters, clenching his eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness, leaning into Din.  

“I’m sure you could have.” Din says, placatingly. “Maybe if you hadn’t been drinking.” 

“M’not drunk.” Cobb sighs, his head aches and his face is throbbing, and each breath burns his against his ribs. “I’m injured.”

“I know.” Din says, slipping his arm around Cobb's waist. “Let’s go, I’ve got a room.”

They make their slow way through the streets of Mos Eisley, to the little hotel Din has a room at.  Cobb leaning heavily on Din as they walk, each step jarring his chest, he knows he’s going to have some bruised ribs tomorrow, if not, some cracked.  

“Wait here.” Din says, depositing Cobb on the single bed to return just a moment later with a damp towel.  He sits next to Cobb, cupping his cheek to hold him in place as he gently cleans the blood from his face.  “You want to tell me what happened back there?” 

“They didn’t like how I looked.” Cobb sighs, hissing when Din presses against his split lip. “Started talking shit, saw my brand and threatened to turn me in since I don’t have papers.” 

Din cringes under his helmet, that would certainly be a great way to get a reaction out of him. 

“If I hadn’t been late,” Din says, folding the towel over to a clean clean, dabbing blood from Cobb's nose. “Maybe this could have been avoided.” 

“Those assholes woulda gave me shit regardless.” 

“Maybe.” Din says, moving to clean the dirt smudged on his temple. “But you wouldn’t have ended up in a fight alone.” 

Cobb laughs, regretting it as pain bursts in his chest, gasping as he presses a hand to his ribs. 

“How are your ribs?” Din asks.

“Feel like I got stepped on by a bantha,” Cobb says tightly, gingerly letting out a breath.  “I'm afraid I am not going to be up for any sort of strenuous activity you mighta had planned on tonight.” 

“Do you think I came here just for that?” Din frowns as he runs his fingers though Cobb’s hair, checking for any hidden bumps. “That I see you as what? A convenient fuck.”

“Can’t see any other reason.” Cobb says, letting his eyes fall closed at the feeling, almost asking Din to keep stroking through his hair when he pulls away all too quickly. “I wouldn’t blame you, if it was.”

“Maybe I just enjoy your company.” Din says, gently taking hold of Cobb’s face in both of his hands. Cobb should probably feel intimidated, having the undivided attention of a mandalorian staring him down. But he just feels… cared for. Din presses his thumbs in along his eyes, seemingly satisfied with the lack of response from Cobb. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Cobb shakes his head.  “You could get company anywhere though.” Cobb says, watching as Din stands, removing his armor piece by piece, placing them neatly on the small desk in the room.

“I don’t want anyone else's.” Din says, unzipping his flight suit, stepping out of it. He’s left in just his helmet, boxers and an undershirt when he turns to face Cobb. “I just want yours.” 

Cobb wants to crack a joke here, about how Din looks ridiculous in his under clothes and helmet, but he can’t find the words, can’t do much of anything under Din’s gaze, except feel his cheeks go suddenly warm. 

“Ok,” Cobb says quietly, following Din as he crosses the tiny room, and starts to undress him with the same care he showed to his armor. Slipping Cobb’s shirt down over his shoulders, he can already see the first bruises forming along his ribs, dark purple and mottled. 

“I can get you something for the bruises tomorrow morning.” Din says, letting his fingers trail lightly along Cobb’s ribs and down to his belt.  Cobb lifts his hips when Din asks, letting him pull his pants down, leaving him in just his underclothes too. 

Din lifts the blankets, tucking Cobb underneath before sliding in behind him. He slips his arm around Cobb’s waist, and pulls him gently flush against him, handling him with more care than Cobb thought he was capable of, compared to their usual rough tumbles.  Cobb sighs, relaxing back against Din’s warm chest, resting his arm over Din’s, drawing his hand up to rest over his belly, lacing their fingers together. 

“Hey, Din?” Cobb whispers, smiling when he feels a rumbling hum in response against his back. “Thank you.” 

“Go to sleep.”

#dincobb #dincobbweek2021 #marshalorian #marshmando #din djarin #cobb vanth #the mandalorian #kaiju writes

[artificialqueens]

A New Kind Of Freedom (Branjie) - Enescudoh

A/N - first ever fic so all crits and comments gratefully received! Thank you to Mia Ugly for a wonderful email telling a complete novice how to do this part. I’ve left this open ended - haven’t decided if I’ll come back to it or not yet.

Fic summary: A little ways down the road, some things have changed, others have stayed exactly as they are. Brooke and Vanjie can only avoid each other for so long before tequila combined with what should have been a great idea from a French drag queen make them question how much they’ve really left things behind them.

Non-AU, but canon-divergent in that Brooke never moved out of Nashville to LA.

‘Another round of tequila for my best bitches!’

The dancers that have taken over this West Hollywood bar cheer as Brooke seems only to want to get them drunker, perhaps to disguise how drunk she’s getting.

‘Think you want to take it easy for the night? Maybe have some water?’ Nicky asks, as she tries to clamber onto a table. Six foot three before her heels were on – that’s going to be a long way down if she falls. Nicky goes up to steady her and instead Brooke raises her hand like she’s a boxing champion.

‘Everyone give it up for Nicky! She’s the fucking best. Nicky, you’re the fucking best, you know that?’ Brooke takes her French co-star’s face in her hands and pecks her on the lips. She laughs it off, enjoying the moment, before helping them both off the table.

‘Nicky’, Brooke says, when their feet are back firmly on the floor, ‘we have just done a motherfucking global tour.’ She slams her arms on the table with every word. ‘We have just finished a motherfucking week long run in fucking Los Angeles. When, tell me, is a better time to get so drunk you forget your own name, than right motherfucking now?’

‘And that’s the only reason?’

There’s something about the way Nicky asks her that makes Brooke temporarily lose a single layer of the alcohol shield she was using to protect her emotions.

‘I hoped he might have come to a show. Or just, like, said hi. While I was here. Cos, I mean, he knew I’d be here. But he didn’t, and the show’s done now, and as far as he knows that’s me out of town and… it sucks that he didn’t even want to say hi. It’s like, a tiny bit that. But mostly just the celebrating our motherfucking show part.’ Brooke sees Nicky look at her with pity and immediately starts up again acting the type of drunk she wants to be tonight, as if that will speed up it arriving in real life.

‘I’m fine! Honestly – I’m so happy right now. Come on – tonight’s for dancing, not for talking, let’s get back out there, mademoiselle!’

Truly, that’s all Brooke wants. To get so euphorically drunk she forgets her own name, and to kill these night time hours in Los Angeles before this place that was so thick with memories makes her do something stupid. To deny that part of her that wishes she’d seen him while she was here, until she can get back to real life, where she could get him out of her head by telling herself there was, at least, no good excuse to be prompted to think about him. Most of the time.

—

‘C’mon Nicky, let me stay for one more round, I’ll buy everyone another round!’

‘Brooke, you can barely stand up. I’m getting you an uber, you’re going home where there’s a bed. You know, a place for sleeping that’s not a leather couch in a bar?’ Nicky was hardly stone cold sober, which made it challenging to scroll back through their conversation, trying to find the address of Brooke’s AirBnB. She’d taken her stuff there this morning after they’d checked out of the hotel the tour was putting them up in, using the next week for meetings she could usefully do while in town. It had made so much sense in the daylight. Now Nicky curses that she doesn’t know where to actually book her Uber to.

She finally loses patience trying as Brooke appears to have passed out on her shoulder. Nicky takes her phone from her pocket and holds it to her face to open it. Luckily it’s used to recognising her in drag. She opens the app – and right there is a saved address of an apartment nearby. Nicky makes a mental note to rip Brooke a new one for how stupidly organised she is, before booking a car, just about managing to manhandle Brooke into it, and going back into the bar for another round of shots. Just because Brooke was out of it, doesn’t mean her night has to end.

—

The buzzer drags Jose out of bed, rubbing his eyes and his spiked up bed-hair. He checks his phone. 3:15am. Serves him right for thinking he might actually get some sleep one night this week. The buzzer carries on sounding as if someone was leaning on it.

‘Jeez, I’m coming already Mary’, he grumbles. ‘What is it?’ He asks into the intercom.

‘This is Ali, uber driver – ‘

‘Child, ain’t no one here ordering no uber at three o’clock in the god damn morning.’

‘There is woman in my car, this is her address to take her to, but I cannot wake her up, she asleep in my car.’

‘Silky I swear to god if this is your idea of a prank – ‘

‘Please take sleeping woman from my car, thank you sir.’

Jose is rapidly starting to think this is the strangest dream he’s ever had but he plays along, puts his door on the latch and goes downstairs to investigate.

And sure enough, passed out on the back seat of a Prius, snoring like the moose he knows, is Brooke Lynn Hytes.

Jose sighs. There isn’t enough good karma in the world to pay him back for not even entertaining the idea of getting a video of this. He hands Ali a tip and begins to gently coax his ex-boyfriend out of the car.

—

After Jose has helped a barely sentient Brock into his building’s elevator, out of drag and make-up, and onto his sofa, under a pile of blankets of varying thicknesses and softnesses (because he knows that when Brock’s drunk he’ll switch randomly between freezing cold and boiling hot in the middle of the night), sleep doesn’t exactly come back easily. For one thing Brock’s snoring can traverse walls. But he’s also trying to piece together what’s happened. He knew Brock was in LA. He’s been running different routes every day for the last fortnight just to avoid the posters. Did Brock want to come and see him, try and build up some Dutch courage and take it too far?

‘Get out of your head, child’, he whispers to himself. ‘He don’t think about you like that no more, you know that.’

He tosses and turns and before he knows it, it’s light outside.

—

Brock wakes early, turning and stretching. He needed more sleep but knows he only wakes up feeling this uncomfortable when he’s tried to cram his tall frame onto a sofa for the night. He curses – was he really so out of it he didn’t even make it to the bedroom of his own AirBnb last night? As he prises his eyes open, and casts the two blankets off his body to join the several already on the floor, he realises this isn’t the same place he came to bring his suitcases yesterday. Is it? It feels strangely familiar.

Before he can work out where he knows the apartment from, or why he’s there, the smell of strong coffee hits his sinuses, and the whirring of a Nespresso machine sounds up. He groans.

‘Mornin’, sleeping beauty’, calls a familiar voice from the kitchen. And suddenly how he knows this apartment falls into place.

Brock stands up and steadies himself on the sofa before walking through to where the voice came from.

‘Hey stranger.’

Jose turns around and smiles at him. Usually something that bright would shatter him into pieces on a hangover like this. But when it’s Jose’s smile, whatever he’s feeling, it only makes it better.

‘Coffee?’

‘Like you even have to ask.’ Brock sits – carefully – on a high stool and sinks his head into his hands, taking it out only when the steaming mug is put down in front of him. He examines it as he drinks.

‘You still have this tacky tourist mug from Chicago?’

Jose freezes at the counter. He won’t let Brock see the warmth that washes over him with memories of that trip.

‘Uh, yeah, I guess I do. I can get you another one if –‘

‘No, it’s nice. It’s nice that you have it.’

Brock meets Jose’s eyes as he says it, much as he’d rather look away.

‘Your tour finished last night then?’

‘Yeah, uh-huh.’ Brock desperately tries to think of something to say to stop what he knows is about to come out of his mouth. ‘I hoped you might come see me while I was here.’

‘I hoped you mighta asked me to.’

Brock swallows as he’s caught off guard by Jose’s honesty.

‘So I don’t remember running into you last night, where –‘

‘You wanna tell me how you ended up here?’

They start talking at the same time and trail off, when Brock’s phone starts vibrating.

‘This ought to give us some idea,’ he says as he answers it. ‘Hey Nicky.’

‘Ah! She lives!’ Jose busies himself in the kitchen, trying not to overhear anything. He doesn’t want to know, really. It doesn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything that Brock showed up here last night, just as he was beginning to… no, not beginning to anything. No beginnings. Everything ended a long time ago. He couldn’t afford to think otherwise.

Anyway, there’s nothing to overhear, as Nicky is regaling Brock with everything that happened after she’d gone home.

‘Honestly, it’s a miracle I managed to get you into that uber when I did –‘

‘Wait, you put me in an uber?’

‘Yes honey – a stroke of genius, I might add.’

‘How did you find… um, where to send it?’

‘It was your nearest saved address – thank me over brunch, bitch, you still good to meet in that café in an hour?’

Brock’s been pacing around the living room. He leans through to check Jose is out of earshot before replying, ‘I think today’s more of a duvet day hangover than a brunch hangover. Sorry my love, I’m gonna have to raincheck this one.’

‘Ugh, fine. I guess I’ll just go flirt with the cute waiters by myself. Bye, bitch.’

‘Well, that’s that mystery solved’, Brock says as he re-enters the kitchen. It seems almost too simple. Too… prosaic. Like it should have been fate, or destiny, or some grand force beyond his control that brought him to Jose’s door, and instead it was a French drag queen with a bad memory after a few drinks.

Jose laughs to himself, and to the floor, as Brock explains. ‘You ain’t changed this address out in three years? How many times you been to LA since then?’

‘Honestly, not that many. And I’m just going to meetings, back and forth, and I don’t stay in the same places…’

‘Alright, Miss Thing, we get it, you in demand.’ He starts to relax. He was worried that Brock showing up meant something, something too big for him to be able to protect himself from. He just has to get through the morning, maybe only another hour, and then Brock can waltz back out of his apartment just as quickly as he showed up in it. Not waltz. Crash, or tiptoe. Brock doesn’t really have any mode between those two extremes.

‘So, uh, I guess you remember where the shower is, and then, as long as you actually know which apartment it is you’re going to this time, we all good here…’

Jose can hardly bring himself to look at Brock as he potters around looking for a towel, but he knows Brock’s eyes are following him all around the room. Can’t he at least pretend it’s as difficult for him to see Jose as it is for Jose to see him?

‘I don’t know, since I’m here…’

‘Since you here what?’

‘I’m just saying, it’s been ages. I hardly talk to you any more. It’d be nice to reconnect with my friend. You got plans today?’

Jose feels his feet become rooted to the spot. It’s so tempting – to spend the day with Brock, patching up the hole he’s felt over the last couple of years without the Canadian in his life. Maybe he’s wrong – maybe it is better to have him as a friend, to have some of him, than to have to completely cut himself off from this force of nature, this beautiful, magnetic person. To think of himself as lucky that someone like that wants to spend time with him, wants to be his friend, rather than dwell on all the things Brock doesn’t want with him. He sighs.

‘Sure. I mean, nah, no plans. Sure, we can hang out.’

‘Yeah? That’s awesome!’ Brock is starting to feel human again – he can tell by the way his speaking voice is slowly crawling out of the bass register.

—

As Brock turns the shower off, he hears a voice on the other side of the wall. He allows himself a smile to think that even when Jose was trying to be quiet (as he could tell he was now), his voice still carried across rooms.

‘I’m real sorry, I know it’s shitty, it’s just this once, I promise – I just… I got an old friend show up in town. I’ll try see you some time this week, ‘kay? OK. OK… OK. Bye.’

Brock doesn’t realise he’s been holding his breath until he lets it out. He counts to five in his head before he unlocks the door, one towel around his waist, another tousling his blonde curls.

‘Hey – give me 15 minutes then I’ll be ready to head out. OK?’

Jose looks up at him. He tries so hard not to flinch as he does. It’s just muscle memory, he tells himself, brain pathways and stuff, that once they’re there, don’t go away. That’s the only reason looking at Brock’s body makes him feel like this, because he did in past, not because he does now. Anyway - he’s made a decision, the least he could do is see it through. ‘Sure.’

—

It’s remarkable how quickly they slip back into each others’ company. They hardly notice that they’re going to their old haunts, stop to get in their heads about if that means anything – they just know the places they enjoy, how they spent so many days happy and relaxed in this neighbourhood. How they don’t even think about how much hard work it is, trying to keep each other out, versus how natural they feel.

‘So how’s Nashville been treating you?’, Jose asks over an iced coffee.

‘It’s been good actually!’ Jose suppresses a snicker, but doesn’t do so well to keep himself from raising an eyebrow halfway up his forehead. Brock seeing Nashville as a means to an end that he wished he could leave had been a common theme of conversation between them.

‘I’m serious! I mean, my lease came up and I actually got really close to moving out here, but then… some stuff changed. I realised there was a side to Nashville I hadn’t got to see much of yet, so I figured I’d sign on for one more year.’

‘Sides like… what, everybody be discovering their local parks for the first time in quarantine, shit like that?’

Brock looks up from the table. ‘I met someone. It didn’t work out, we’re not still…’ He’s careful not to trip over his tongue as he gets that out. ‘But it was nice. Having a relationship while we both literally couldn’t go anywhere, you know, it helped to turn the everyday into a bit of an adventure. For a little while.’

‘So lemme get this straight. You actually willingly had a relationship with another person, in the same city as you, no breaks, no passes, no long distance shit, for…’

‘Uh, five months.’

‘For five months, without losing your god damn mind over it?’

Jose is chuckling, he’s taking it better than Brock had ever imagined he would, whenever he’d pictured Jose finding out about it. Part of the reason it had ended with Max after five months was precisely because he found himself wondering how Jose would react to everything he was doing, and somehow picturing doing all of the coupley things he’d previously never entertained with Jose tended to make him happier than actually doing them with Max. He wasn’t an expert in relationships, but he didn’t think that was how it was supposed to go.

“What about all that shit about “freedom”, about that being the most important thing to you in the world?”

Brock pauses. He’s been having enough trouble articulating it to himself.

“Say what you want about a pandemic. But it’s pretty good for making you… re-evaluate… what it actually is freedom means to you. When a lot of it gets taken away, I mean. Freedoms you never thought you’d have to live without. Suddenly, you can’t travel, you can’t perform to crowds, you can’t go to bars, you can’t hug your family… maybe, it starts to make you think that those are the freedoms that matter to you… and that in the scheme of things… freedom to flirt or to have sex, I mean, to involve other people in your freedom, and wish for it not to be personal… I don’t know, maybe that’s not the kind of freedom I found myself craving all that much on the other side of this. And maybe having one person who cares about you enough to look out for you, whose emotions move in sync with yours… maybe that’s a kind of freedom too.”

There’s a pause. Most people would misinterpret the face that Jose’s making as him trying to understand what Brock’s just said. But he knows better. He’s seen that face before. That’s the face of Jose’s heart breaking.

Brock wishes he could take back the words. He knew they’d sting, that’s why he hadn’t talked to Jose the minute he’d had that realisation. How could he have just shown up, years later, as if now he was finally ready for everything Jose wanted, as if nothing would have changed for Jose in the meantime? So when Jose finally opens his mouth to ask him that, says softly ‘how many months were you gonna sit on that before you said anything to me?’, Brock answers honestly.

‘I figured you’d given me too many chances already.’

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #canon compliant #angst #slow burn #enescudoh #concrit welcome

[kyzveryown]

Alternative — Protagonist Kairi, Part II

DISCLAIMER: This is a "What If?" scenario exploring a story where Kairi is the protagonist of Kingdom Hearts. There are major and minor differences from the series. This is simply my vision. You may consider this an AU fanfic.

TRAVERSE TOWN VI (Cont.) — Kairi Kairi lies on top of them with her limbs sprawled out. She sits up then grabs her head and says “Ow, that sucked”. Suddenly, she feels something squirming underneath her. She looks down and sees Donald’s legs flapping about, and Goofy’s hand clutching his expanded shield. “Waakkk! Get off of me!!” Donald angrily cries. She apologizes then quickly gets up. “Sorry! I didn’t meant to fall into you guys” she says with her hands clasped. Yuffie half sighs then says, “It would’ve been so cool if you landed and posed like a hero. Like this…”. She shows her a heroic pose then says “See?”.

Aerith shakes her head. “Not everyone is as ‘stylishly heroic’ as you” she says then giggles”. Yuffie’s eyes narrow and she frowns. Donald and Goofy get on their feet. Donald dusts himself off while Goofy retracts his shield. Squall groans. “Are you done? I want to get this over with” he says. Goofy looks at Kairi and, noticing her keyblade, raises an eyebrow then nudges Donald. “Uh Donald, I think we mighta found that key we’re s’pose to look for” he says. Donald looks at her for moment then frowns. “You’ve gotta be kidding me” he says disappointedly.

Squall sighs then says, “I wish this was a joke, but that’s who the keyblade chose. Whatever. The brat’s your problem now. We’re done here”. Aerith grabs Squall’s shoulder then says “Hey, don’t be rude. We could at least see them off”. Kairi turns to the two royal guardsmen. Goofy shakes her hand then introduces himself. “I’m Goofy. Nice to meet ya!” he says jovially. Donald crosses his arms, frowns and repeatedly taps his foot. Kairi nervously smiles. “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just being a Grumpy Gus” Goofy says then laughs. Donald elbows him then replies “Ah shuddap, ya big oaf”. Donald introduces them both as the esteemed royal guardsmen of King Mickey, the monarch of the Disney Kingdom.

Before he can explain their mission, giant pieces of armor smack into the ground from above. The armor rises and shapes itself into a anthropomorphic knight. It lets out a deafening shriek that rattles Fountain Plaza. “What are you –” Yuffie starts to say as she’s snatched away by Squall along with Aerith. He leaps back onto a rooftop a short distance away. “This is their fight. Not ours” he says then lets them go. “We’ll only intervene if they let that thing get out of control. Otherwise, we stay out of it. You understand?!”. Yuffie confusedly responds, “Huh?! But that doesn’t make any sense, you idiot!”. Squall continues, “This is the moment of truth for the brat. We’ll find out here and now if she’s really worthy of that keyblade”.

#kingdom hearts #kairi #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #fiction #stories #writer #fanfic writing #scenario #side project

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 39

Warnings: it’s pretty obvious by now

Rating: SFW

A girl with black and silver hair was playing with her sister with the same hair color in a beautiful garden. The girls were laughing as they chased each other around. A woman was watching them play and saw the time.

“Yui! Roxy! Time to head home!” she said. 

“Aww, do we have to?” Roxy asked. 

“Yes. Your father is expecting us back.” 

“Okay.” Yui and Roxy ran over to their mother and headed back to the castle. On their way back, they stopped at a small shop so that their mother could pick up some flowers. As they were walking back to the castle, a giant Heartless had appeared. 

“Get behind me, girls,” their mother said. Yui and Roxy hid behind their mother as she summoned her weapon. She fought the Heartless but it stabbed her before she could attack. 

“MOMMY!” Yui and Roxy yelled. Their mother fell to the ground, blood coming out of her. The Heartless walked away and they ran over to their mother. 

“Mommy! Wake up!” Yui said. 

“Come on, mommy! Please wake up!” Roxy said. A Dark Corridor opened up and their father walked out of it.

“Daddy, help!” Yui said. Their father ran over to them and placed their mother on his lap.

“What happened?” he asked. 

“A-a giant monster came and attacked us,” Roxy sobbed. Their father quickly grabbed a potion and used it on their mother but it didn’t work. 

“No...” he said. 

“Is she...?” Yui asked. 

“I’m afraid so.” The girls sobbed and hugged their father. A few weeks later, there was a funeral for their mother. Everyone had attended. Their father, their uncles, and their aunts. After the funeral, their father locked himself in his office. The girls looked at the closed door, wanting to go in. 

“Come on, little ones. Let’s give your father a minute,” one of their uncles said. The girls followed their uncle to the seating area and everyone did their best to make the girls smile again. 

~~~~

Yui looked at her locket that had a picture of her and her mother on it. She closed the locket and hid it in her pocket. 

“So, where do you think this Spirit is?” Roxy asked. 

“I don’t know. But I think we should start in Hollow Bastion. Father might head there to take care of the Keyblade wielder,” Yui said. The girls summoned their weapons and headed into Hollow Bastion.

The train rolled out into the open sky. Soon, the train pulled onto the base of a mysterious tower, emblazoned with moons and stars like the train. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy left the train, which then disappeared, leaving only the tracks. Sora giggled nervously.

“There goes our ride...” he said. In the distance, there was someone standing at the doorway of the tower.

“What's goin' on?” Goofy asked. 

“I sent some of my lackeys inside to see if the master of this here tower's as big and tough as they say. Word is, he's a real powerful sorcerer. Which would make him the perfect bodyguard for me. See, it don't matter how tough he is---once he's a Heartless, he'll do as I say!” Pete said. 

“A Heartless?” Donald asked. 

“That's right. They're those things that come outta the darkness in folks' hearts. Why, with all those Heartless at her side, my dear friend Maleficent is gonna conquer everything! And since I got me a debt to pay, I'm goin' 'round to a bunch of different worlds and buildin' an army of Heartless, special for her. Why am I talkin' to you pipsqueaks anyway? Go on, scram! I'm behind schedule as it is.”

“You oughta find somethin' nicer to do,” Goofy said. 

“Says who?” Pete turned around and spotted you, Odile, Donald, Goofy, and Sora.

“Wha...AAAH! It's you!” he said. 

“Pete!” Donald and Goofy said. 

“What are you two nimrods doin' here!?”

“What are YOU doing here?” Donald asked. 

“You know him?” you asked. 

“We sure do! Pete's been causin' trouble for ages! His Majesty banished him to another dimension a long time ago. I wonder how he escaped,” Goofy said. Pete laughed.

“You wanna know how, eh? Well, Maleficent busted me out, that's how! And now your world---no, no, no, all the worlds---are gonna belong to yours truly. Cause Maleficent's gonna help me conquer 'em!” he said.

“Maleficent...huh,” Sora said. You and the trio giggled. Odile looked at you confused.

“What are you laughing at!? Why, Maleficent's power is so great---” Pete said.

“She's toast!” you said.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, but Maleficent can't help ya now,” Goofy said. 

“Whaddaya mean!?” Donald snickered. 

“You! So you're the ones that did it!” Pete said. 

“Well...we mighta had something to do with it,” Sora said. 

“Heartless squad! Round up!” Pete said, angrily. Some shadows came out of the ground. Sora conjured his Keyblade while you grabbed your and the two of you fought them.

“You just wait! Nobody, and I do mean nobody, messes with the mighty Pete!” Pete said. 

“So, ‘mighty’ Pete, who lives in this tower, anyway?” you asked. 

“Oh, ya don't know, eh? Well, it's old Yen Sid. 'Course he's probably a Heartless by now!”

“Master Yen Sid lives here!?” Donald asked. He ran up the steps and into the tower.

“Yen Sid is the King's teacher!” Goofy said. 

“Wow. Sounds powerful!” Sora said. You, Sora and Goofy then ran up the stairs, leaving Pete and his dropped jaw hanging. The four of you ascended the stairs until you all reached the top floor, fighting Heartless along the way.

“Heartless, Heartless, Heartless! Things haven't changed one bit!” Donald said. 

“Well, it's a good thing we're on the job, then,” Goofy said. 

“So the worlds aren't at peace after all?” you asked. The four of you soon reached the Sorcerer's Loft where an old wizard was sitting at his desk. Donald and Goofy bowed to him.

“Master Yen Sid! It's an honor!” Donald said.

“Hey there!” Sora said. 

“Hi!” you said. Goofy and Donald were slightly shocked at you and Sora.

“Sora! (Y/N)! Show some respect!” Donald said. The wizard calmed Donald down.

“So, you are Sora and (Y/N). Now then, have you seen the King yet?” Yen Sid said. 

“Yes, we did, Master. But we didn't get a chance to talk to him,” Goofy said. 

“Yes...the King has been quite busy of late. Therefore, it would seem that the task of instructing you four falls upon my shoulders. You have a perilous journey ahead of you. You must be well prepared.” 

“You mean...we have to go on another quest? I was looking forward to finding my friend Riku, so we could go back to the islands,” Sora said. 

“And I’ve been wanting to find my parents and the history of my powers,” you said. 

“Yes. I know. However, everything in your journey, Sora adn (Y/N), is connected. Whether you will find your way home to the islands... Whether you will return alone or with your friend or finding your parents... And, whether or not the islands will still be there. And the key that connects them all is you.”

“We’re...the key?” Sora asked. Sora held out his hand and the Keyblade flashed into it. You grabbed your dagger and unsheathed it.

“Chosen wielder of the Keyblade and Spirit of Light! You are the key that will open the door to light,” Yen Sid said. You and Sora nodded. Yen Sid looked to Donald and Goofy who quickly stood up straight and nodded. Yen Sid waved a hand over the table and a thick book appeared. He made it float into the air and spun it towards you and Sora. It opened and landed at the edge of the table.

“This book contains valuable knowledge you will need for your journey. Study it carefully. Once you have finished, we will speak of the enemies you will surely confront,” Yen Sid said. You and Sora read the book from beginning to end. 

“But wait a sec---how come the Heartless are still running around?” Sora asked. 

“Your past endeavors did prevent an immense effusion of Heartless from the great darkness; make no mistake about that. However, the Heartless are darkness made real---and darkness lingers yet in every heart. The Heartless are fewer. But while darkness exists in a single heart, it will be difficult to eliminate them,” Yen Sid said. You and the trio sighed. Odile rubbed her cheek against yours in a comforting manner. 

“Gawrsh, that must mean...if everybody's heart was full of light, them Heartless'd go away!” Goofy said. Yen Sid nodded.

“Now it is time to speak of the enemies that you will encounter,” he said. Yen Sid waved a hand and an image of Donald appeared near the wall. The image then changed to a Shadow Heartless.

“If one such as you, Donald, yields to the darkness in their heart, they too will become a Heartless. But you know this. The Heartless are always lurking and ever seeking to capture new hearts. Never let your guard down! Now then...” Yen Sid said. Yen Sid waved his hand again and an image of a Dusk Nobody appeared next to the Shadow.

“At times, if someone with a strong heart and will---be they evil or good---becomes a Heartless, the empty shell they leave behind begins to act with a will of its own,” he said. The Shadow image disappeared.

“An empty vessel whose heart has been stolen away... A soul that goes on even as its body fades from existence---for you see, Nobodies do not truly exist at all. Nobodies may seem to have feelings, but this is a ruse---they only pretend to have hearts. You must not be deceived!” Yen Sid said. 

“Nobodies... They don't exist...” you said. Two more images of Dusks appeared around you and Sora.

“Now then...the being you see before you is known as a Dusk. They are the most common form of Nobody. But there are others---some larger, some with frightening and unique powers. Be vigilant! On your journey, you will meet an alarming number of Dusks. They will all attempt to do you harm,” Yen Sid said. The images vanished.

“Still, they are nothing but empty shells, destined to return to the darkness. But---” Yen Sid waved his hand again and images of figures in black appear in the Dusks' place. You, Odile, Sora, Donald, and Goofy looked wary.

“The beings you see before you now are different. These powerful Nobodies have formed a group called Organization XIII. It commands the lesser Nobodies,” Yen Sid said.

“Organization XIII...” Sora said. He looked to you, Odile, Goofy, and Donald, but you shook your heads.

“While Heartless act on instinct, Nobodies function in a higher manner. They can think and plan. And it seems they are working towards a goal. What that goal is, we do not know. The King sensed the danger, and journeyed forth to fight it. He found the dark realm's Keyblade, and with it, closed the door. Now he's traveling from world to world, fighting the Heartless as he seeks the answer to the riddle of the Nobodies and Organization XIII,” Yen Sid said. The cloaked figures disappeared and Yui and Roxy appeared. They wore a beautiful outfit almost similar to yours.

“(Y/N), your goal is to show these girls the true power of a Spirit,” Yen Sid said. 

“There are other Spirit’s out there. I thought that I was the only one” you said. 

“Well, it seems that you are not the only one. Now, these girls are stronger than your dagger alone. What you need is a guardian.” 

“A guardian? What’s that?” 

“A guardian is an angel that helps and protects a Spirit. And it looks like you’re little friend is your guardian.” 

“Odile?” You and Odile looked at each other, shocked and confused. 

“Yes. What she needs is a little help,” Yen Sid said. He used his magic and she turned into a beautiful swan. She then disappeared into your dagger.

“Huh? Where did she go?” you asked. 

“She is safe in your dagger. When you feel like you need assistance, you may summon her and she shall help you,” Yen Sid said. You took out your dagger and saw a swan pattern engraved on the blade.

“Well, I guess we better go find the King first!” Sora said. 

“But where could he be?” Donald asked. 

“Well, we won't know 'til we look,” Goofy said. 

“Yeah. And the King must know where Riku is, 'cause the two of them were together in the realm of darkness when we closed the door. You know, after defeating Ansem,” you said. 

“So, before you go, you will need more suitable traveling clothes. Those look a bit too small for you,” Yen Sid said to you and Sora. Yen Sid motioned toward a door.

“Through there, you'll find three good fairies. If you ask, they'll create for you appropriate garments,” he said. 

“Gawrsh, you two, you sure are growing fast,” Goofy said. 

“Uh, I guess...” Sora said. You and Sora giggled nervously and pulled at your clothes. The four of you entered the Wardrobe. Three fairies, one red, one green, and one blue were chatting near the window.

“Me, you guys, Riku, and the King. I don't care who this Organization is or those girls or what it's planning. With the six of us---I mean, seven of us---there's nothing to worry about, right?” Sora said. 

“Yeah!” Donald said. 

“Well, look who's here, dears! Sora, (Y/N), Donald, and Goofy!” Flora said. 

“Ooh, if you're looking for clothes, you've come to the right place!” Merryweather.

“I'll do the designing,” Fauna said. Flora and Merryweather pulled you and Sora away from Goofy. Fauna sent out a spell which turned you and Sora's clothes green.

“Oh, that will never do,” Merryweather said. Merryweather flicked her wand and you and Sora's clothes turned blue.

“Now, now, dears,” Flora said. Flora turned you and Sora's clothes pink.

“But don't you like this better?” Fauna asked as she made you and Sora’s clothes green again.

“Hold on!” Flora said as she turned them pink again. By now, you and Sora were looking helpless.

“Are you certain?” Fauna asked as she changed them green again.

“Blue!” Merryweather said as she changed them to blue. The fairies exchanged more spells, making you and Sora's clothes continue changing colors. A raven watched from the window, squawked, and flew away. A green clothed Sora finally decided to break the feud.

“Aww, would you just decide?” he asked. The fairies gasped and then giggled. 

“All right, then. Together now, dears. And no more squabbling!” Flora said. All three fairies turned their spells on you and Sora at once, and his clothes turn black with red and gold bands while you had black dress with red covering it.

You smiled and twirled around, admiring the beautiful colors. 

“Oh, my!” Flora said.

“Ooh, it's lovely,” Fauna said.

“Oh, yes! He does look very dashing. And she definitely looks like a Spirit,” Merryweather said. Sora was fine with it, and the Keyblade appeared in his hand.

“Now, those aren't ordinary garments,” Flora said. 

“They have very special powers,” Fauna said. Flora magic up two glowing orbs which hovered in front of you and Sora.

“Take the orb, dears,” Fauna said. You and Sora grabbed for the orb and took it in.

“And watch what happens,” Merryweather said. Sora was struck with immense power. A light flashed and his clothes were suddenly red. You, Donald and Goofy looked in awe. Sora now was holding a second Keyblade in his left hand. You also felt an immense power and saw a bigger version of Odile behind you. Sora, Donald, and Goofy were amazed.

“Whoa!” Sora said. 

“Wow!” Donald said. 

“This journey's gonna be twice as difficult as your last,” Merryweather said. You and Sora sighed.

“Your garments also have other powers---but you will have to discover what they are as you continue on your journey,” Fauna said. Sora looked at both of his Keyblades while you petted Odile.

“Okay, We'll do my best. And thanks a lot!” you said.

“Oh, and there's something else for you---from Master Yen Sid,” Fauna said. 

“Oh boy!” Donald said. The four of you walked back into the hallway, where Yen Sid motioned them over to the window. A gummi ship rose into view.

“Hey! It's the Gummi Ship!” Donald said.

“So you guys ready to go?” Sora asked. You all nodded, then stood up straight in the wizard's presence.

“Now, now, just a moment,” Yen Sid said. The four of you relaxed a bit.

“Because of your previous endeavors, the worlds have returned to their original states. That means the pathways between them have disappeared,” Yen Sid said.

“How do we get around?” Goofy asked. 

“Do not fear. If what the King suspected proves true, the worlds have prepared new pathways along which you may travel. These pathways may be utilized by unlocking special gates. How these gates are opened, I'm afraid I do not know... However, the Keyblade will serve as your guide. When a beam of light radiates from the Keyblade, return to the Gummi Ship. Though the worlds may seem far apart and out of reach, they nonetheless remain connected by invisible ties. As do our hearts.”

“Our hearts are connected,” you said. 

“That is correct.”

“Got it!”

“But be warned. As you proceed... The Heartless and the Nobodies will be using their own paths: Corridors of darkness, to travel from world to world. They may be attempting to link these dark pathways to the gates between the worlds. Even those two girls.”

“Hey! That's not fair!” Donald said.

“Now then, that is all the information I can give to you. Go forth, (Y/N), Sora, Donald, and Goofy. Everyone is waiting.”

“Okay, let's get going!” Sora said. The four of you stood up straight again.

“Master Yen Sid!” Donald said. 

“We sure do appreciate the help,” Goofy said. Each of you gave the wizard a salute and ran down the corridor. Yen Sid disappeared in a whisk of light. In the Gummi Ship, you, Sora and company were hailed by Chip and Dale.

“Howdy, Sora and (Y/N)! How ya doin'?” Dale said. 

“It's your favorite Gummi engineers here, ready for duty: Chip...”

“...And Dale!”

“Happy flying!” The two of them said. You and Sora saw Hollow Bastion on the map.

“Only one?” you asked. 

“That's no good!” Donald said. 

“Wait! I think it's a world we know!” The four of you then headed off to Hollow Bastion.

#kingdom hearts #kingdomhearts #kingdom hearts imagine #kingdom hearts x reader #kingdom+hearts+x+reader #kingdom+hearts+imagines #kingdomhearts x reader #kingdomhearts imagines #kingdomhearts+x+reader #kingdomhearts+imagines

[writingithink]

After All This Time Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: T Wordcount: 4,762 Summary: Some things have changed, some things have stayed the same. The Doctor and Rose continue their honeymoon. Notes: This is for Day 4 of @timepetalsweek !! I used two of the prompts, the picture prompt and 'chips'. This is also for the @doctorroseprompts summer fic bingo prompt 'beach'. If you haven't read any of the other fics in the series, I feel like you should be fine. They're bonded. As always, immense gratitude to @hey-there-juliet for betaing <33 All mistakes are mine. I own nothing.

READ IT ON AO3 -> copy/paste link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25457269

“Roooooose.”

“What?” she asked, looking over her shoulder from where she was kneeling in front of her dresser.

“What are you doing?” he asked, finally sitting up from where he’d been sprawled across her- their bed.

“I’m gettin’ ready to take a shower.” She laughed at him before turning back, pulling a couple tops out before tossing them back down, unfolded, and digging around some more.

“But why? You’ve just gotten up. You haven’t even had tea yet! I’ve been waiting for you to get up for ages. Come back to bed,” the Doctor asked (he was not whining, no matter what Rose thought).

“Thought you said you were waiting for me to get up,” she smirked, standing up and coming near the bed, but not getting in it or even within touching distance. Rude, his wife was being rude.

Excuse you?

“I meant awake. Should have said awake. Come here.” He held out both hands, making little grabbing motions and smiling, hoping to lure her.

“Doctor,” Rose sighed, but finally got onto the bed, where he was quick to wrap his arms around her, “my hair feels disgusting. You could always join me in the shower.”

Now there was an idea. He’d done the calculations this time, and was certain that he wouldn’t knock her head on the tiles … again. Provided they didn’t use any extra telepathy.

“For some reason, I don’t believe you,” she giggled, giving him a quick kiss on his temple, making their bond buzz.

“Mmm … yeah, when you go doing things like that,” the Doctor accused, though his voice wasn’t getting the memo about sounding upset. Then again, it was hard not to feel warm and fuzzy, cuddling with his bondmate - much better now that she was awake and could talk to him.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she whispered in his ear, pecking him on the cheek before wiggling away.

“Rooooose.”

“Doctoooor,” she mocked, back to shifting through her clothes. “‘Sides, we haveta go see my mum today. Told her we’d be back a week after we last saw her.”

“ What?!!”

He sat up straighter, adjusting the bed covers. For some reason it felt wrong to be naked and talking about Jackie at the same time.

“For wedding planning. I’m not gonna leave it all up to her, y’know. Not only is it a lot of work, but I do have some things I’d like in an Earth wedding and who knows what mum’ll do if we don’t give any input.”

“Bu- but- but we’re still on our honeymoon!”

She dropped her shirts again - and now most of them had to be unfolded - turning back around. “We just spent weeks at the Olympics. We’ve been honeymooning almost a month.”

“Yes, but we’ve only gone two places. And we have a time machine. I thought, y’know … seven,” he shrugged, starting to feel a little embarrassed.

Maybe he was doing this wrong.

Rose sent him a strong wave of love and affection.

“Seven places?” she smiled, sitting next to him on the bed and weaving their fingers together. The Doctor couldn’t help but tug her onto his lap.

“Yeah.”

“Instead of seven days?”

“Mmmhmm,” he mumbled into the top of her head. He supposed her hair was a little more oily than usual, but it didn’t look bad.

“How ‘bout this,” Rose offered, “we go see mum before we forget and wind up gettin’ the date wrong, and then we finish up our honeymoon.”

“Counter offer - we go on the trip I had planned today, and then sit through boring wedding planning with Jackie, and then finish the rest of our honeymoon.”

A lot of unflattering thoughts zipped across their connection before she said, “Wait, what do you have planned?”

Which was good, because he didn’t feel like arguing as to whether or not he would find any of the Earth wedding monotony entertaining.

“Well, I thought it could be a surprise.”

“Olympics was a surprise. This time ya gotta tell me,” she insisted, poking him in the side.

“Fine,” the Doctor huffed. “Remember when I was talking about hovercars?” 

“Mmm yeah. You said the best ones were on Toff.”

“Right you are,” he grinned, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “And Toff’s greatest megacity is Mailboon. Intergalactic hub, beautiful coastline, and our next honeymoon destination! I’ve even made reservations.”

Actually, he made them weeks ago, after they found out that all of the hotels in London had been booked for the Olympics. To have it happen twice in a row was ridiculous, and despite Rose assuring him that they really didn’t need to stay at a hotel, he’d researched honeymoons. Hotels were a very prominent part of them.

“What else did you research,” she murmured, turning around in his lap to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Rose Tyler, are you trying to seduce me?” he asked, gliding his hands down her back.

“Dunno. Maybe. Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“On whether you let me shower before we get to Mailboon,” she laughed, quickly hopping off of him and skipping to her ensuite.

Torture. His wife was torturing him. He should file a complaint.

“And who exactly are you gonna be filing that with?” Rose called out.

“You. I’m filing it with you.”

“Uh huh, well. I’ll review it next business day, then. Could you do me a favor?”

The Doctor could hear her turning on the shower.

“Next business day? When’s that?”

She ignored him.

“Could you see if you could find this top I have? It’s striped, think it’d look cute with my dungarees. Mighta left it at mum’s though, so if you can’t find it, just pick something.”

“You want me to pick out your clothes?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“Why not? It’s just a top. Not like I’m gonna have to commit to wearing it every day.”

“What are you trying to say?”

She didn’t answer, likely now in the shower. He’d been down this road before and knew better than to try to keep talking to her. There were only so many times he could repeat himself. Could use the bond, but telepathically talking to his wife about her clothes while she showered seemed like a level of domestic that was just too much. Best not.

So he rolled off the bed, put on a pair of pants, and then glanced down at her open drawer. Nothing striped was immediately apparent, and since over half of the drawer’s contents were messily strewn about, he pulled the whole drawer out and dumped it onto the bed. Blimey, she had a lot of tops! Should have known the TARDIS would make her dresser drawers bigger on the inside.

Eventually clothes stopped tumbling out. And Rose had way more than one striped shirt. The decent thing to do would have been to send him a telepathic image. Determined not to make this all more domestic than it already was, the Doctor didn’t ask her and instead just began tossing every striped one he saw up to the head of the bed.

It was all going decently quickly until he picked up a shirt that he’d initially thought was striped, but wasn’t. He paused, staring at the Union Flag top.

It was a lifetime ago that she’d worn it.

He’d been a different man - literally.

A man who would have never been able to imagine his life turning out like this . In fact, he had trouble imagining it even as he was living it.

“Whatcha doin’?”

The Doctor jumped. He hadn’t noticed the shower turn off, much less Rose coming back into the room, wrapped in a towel.

“I thought you’d gotten rid of your old clothes?” he asked her, knowing that his tumultuous emotional state was likely bombarding her through their connection.

“Not all of them,” she answered, tugging the shirt out of his hands and giving it a look over.

“But why’d you keep that one?”

“For the memories.”

The memories? “You want to remember almost being blasted off a barrage balloon?!”

Rose sat down the shirt before pulling him closer, resting a hand on his cheek. “Was wearin’ that shirt the first time we ever danced together,” she smiled, standing on her toes and kissing him.

He deepened the kiss, slowly spinning them, but when he moved to lower her onto the bed her empty dresser drawer was in the way. The Doctor shoved it off of the bed, but the moment was already lost.

“Oh, don’t pout,” she chided. “Thought you wanted to go to Mailboon?”

“Time machine.”

“Anyway, I just showered.”

She meandered over to her dresser, selecting the rest of her clothes. He rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep from grinning as he set about gathering his own clothes from off the floor. As he was buttoning his shirt, he turned around to see Rose pulling on the Union Flag shirt.

“Thought you were wearing a striped shirt?”

“Changed my mind,” she told him, as a few memories of the night they danced played over the bond.

I love you, he told her, giving up on getting dressed for the moment, walking back over and snogging her for all he was worth. I love you now, and I loved you then, even if I was too busy denying it at the time.

I love you, too.

And this time he didn’t try to go further, but he just wanted to keep kissing her, her presence in his mind glowing pink and golden and so full of love. Time in the TARDIS is relative, so the Doctor had no idea how long they’d actually stayed there when she finally broke away to breathe. 

“So,” Rose gasped out, “Toff, then? Maybe after a quick cuppa?”

“Wherever you want to go,” he told her.

“Toff sounds nice,” she laughed.

“And you’re sure about that top?” he joked.

“Mmm depends, think I’ll be a walking target in Mailboon?”

“Nah,” he grinned, giving her nose a quick peck before finally letting her go so that they could both finish getting dressed.

When he left for the console room, Rose still hadn’t found a pair of shorts she liked. By the time she joined him, a cup of tea and a half eaten slice of toast in hand, he’d already landed them at their destination. In fact, they’d been landed for 43 minutes. But it had given him some time to do a bit of TARDIS maintenance, which the Doctor realized he’d been neglecting ever since they’d bonded.

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, sitting down next to where he was lying on the grating, specs on as he examined a few fraying wires.

He glanced over to see that she’d settled on the black shorts that she’d first grabbed to begin with. Typical.

Hey! she scolded him telepathically.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, scooting out from under the console so that he could sit with her. “You look lovely.”

Thank you. Her mental voice sounded quite prim for someone with a mouthful of toast. The Doctor grabbed the rest out of her hand and took a bite. Mmmm apple berry jam.

“That’s my breakfast, get yer own,” Rose laughed, immediately taking back her toast.

“I just wanted a taste,” he pouted, projecting as much sincerity as he could.

“Fine. You and your jam.”

He ignored her exasperation and just focused on the fondness bleeding through the bond as he sprang to his feet and put away his glasses. “Ready to go?”

“In a mo’.” 

The Doctor bounced on his feet as Rose gulped down the rest of her tea, grabbed her hand as soon as she stood, and rushed out the door.

“What’s this then?” Rose asked, looking around at the white and pastel green hallway they were now in.

“Hovercar rental place.”

“Don’t already got one in the garage?” She lightly elbowed his side, grinning with her tongue between her teeth.

“Might do, but not from Toff. I’d remember if I had one from Toff. Best hovercars in the quadrant!” he enthused, pulling her along, out of the side corridor and into the main rental facility.

She was still laughing when one of the workers came over and began to give them a long, noticeably rehearsed speech. The Doctor ended up needing to interrupt him, quite certain that he would die of boredom.

“Yes, right, I’m the Doctor and this is my wife, Rose. We’d like to rent whichever one is fastest. Also, most aerodynamic.”

“And can that also be a convertible?” Rose requested.

He turned to her, shaking his head. “No. No convertibles.”

“Why not?”

You’ll see, he told her mentally, not wanting to alarm the salesman. Which ended up alarming his bondmate, forcing him to send her waves of reassurance through their link as they were led to their rental vehicle.

“What are you planning?” she whispered, when they were finally buckling in after he had lied on a bunch of pointless paperwork.

“To have fun,” he grinned, turning on the car and grabbing the joystick-like controls.

The facilities garage doors opened and he engaged the thrusters, slowly exiting the building before punching it once they’d hit open air.

“Woah!” Rose shouted, having not realized that they’d been 30 stories up.

“Woo hoo! Hovercars, really, brilliant inventions,” the Doctor crowed, speeding up into the lavender sky and swerving around one of Mailboon’s many giant frosted-glass skyscrapers.

“Aren’t there some sort of rules for driving here?”

“Sure there are.”

“And are we followin’ ‘em?” she asked, trying and failing to stop her laughter from bubbling out. Rose was having a blast and he knew it.

“Nope!” He gave his wife a manic smile. “Wanna do a barrel roll?”

They ended up being late for their reservation’s check in time after being pulled over by a Traffic Control Agent, to whom the Doctor had to sincerely, sincerely apologize to, promising to never again do a barrel roll with a hovercraft. And he really had meant it when he said that it won’t happen again, being as they’d already done five and Rose was starting to feel a bit ill.

Luckily they weren’t very strict about it, and soon an attendant was showing them the way to their room.

You didn’t tell me we were goin’ to a resort, his bondmate chastised him telepathically as they were being taken to some sort of different exit. He could tell she wasn’t actually upset with him based on the sheer amount of excitement passing through their bond.

Is there a difference?

Before she could reply, the attendant opened a door and said, “And here is your hovercart, for traveling to the different resort areas.”

“Rose! It’s a hover golf cart! They have hover golf carts!” the Doctor exclaimed, running up to it and hopping into the driver's seat. “I didn’t know there’d be hover golf carts! Oh, this is just brilliant.” He turned to the bemused looking employee. “Do you know how fast it can go?”

“He’s just kidding,” Rose quickly lied, before following him into the cart, waving goodbye to the young girl.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“We just got pulled over for your reckless drivin’,” she told him, crossing her arms. “If you hadn’t lied your arse off and had the psychic paper tell ‘em you had some sort of weird galactic-diplomatic immunity, they woulda taken the car away. You mighta even had to spend the night in jail. I’ve never been to a resort before, I don’t wanna get kicked out yet.”

“Ah, right, yes, you may have a point,” he agreed, tugging on his ear and scratching the back of his neck.

She glared at him for a moment before breaking into a grin. “It was so much fun before we got caught, though.”

“I know!” he agreed, activating the hovercart and only slightly speeding to their room.

Which, actually, wasn’t exactly a room, per se.

“These are like tiny bungalows!” his wife marveled as he turned onto their little cart resort-y road thing. 

“Oooh, you’re right. I couldn’t think of the word earlier.”

“Earlier?”

The Doctor pulled to a stop outside of their bungalow-suite. As if on cue, the sound of the TARDIS dematerializing filled the air. Rose turned to him, brows furrowed.

“While I was waiting for you earlier, I thought I’d drop off our luggage,” he explained. “May have cut it a bit close. Just a smidge.”

“But I didn’t pack a suitcase, and I can’t imagine you knowing how to pack one.”

“I do so know how to pack a suitcase … probably. Besides, I had the TARDIS pack them for us. Well, for you, mostly. I don’t really need one.”

He took her hand and jogged inside, sonicking the lock out of habit. Sure enough, the two suitcases the TARDIS had provided him were right where he remembered leaving them.

“Oh my god! Is this our own private beach?! Oh, we have to go! I hope the TARDIS packed me some suit options.” 

Rose ran over to the patio doors and the Doctor leaned against the counter of the open-concept style kitchenette, smiling as he watched her. She was radiating such pure joy over the bond, he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt happiness like this. It didn’t exactly top the day they’d bonded, but it was also a very different sort of happy. When he’d been picking out hotels, he had remembered that Rose loved the beach, but he hadn’t realized she would feel like this. He had a sudden desire to take her to as many different beaches as he possibly could.

“It’s not just the beach,” she laughed, bounding over and wrapping her arms around him. “It’s also being at a resort, and with you, and on our honeymoon. ’S perfect.”

He kissed her, deciding that it could only make things more perfect and hoping his bondmate would agree. And based on the way she immediately started snogging him, she agreed wholeheartedly. 

“I thought you wanted to go to the beach?” the Doctor asked a little breathlessly when Rose began kissing down his neck.

“I do. Soon. Not just yet, though.”

“Oh. Well. Okay. I mean, no complaints. Do, erm, carry on,” he rambled just a little bit, sliding his hands over her hips, under her shirt.

“Thought you might want to help me get undressed. Y’know, so I can change into my suit,” she suggested, loosening his tie and beginning to unbutton his collar.

“I’d love to, but you seem to be the one doing the undressing.”

Rose paused and looked up at him. “Aren’t you gonna swim with me this time?”

“Oh … am I supposed to?”

She frowned, brows furrowing. “No, you’re not supposed to do anything. I just thought you might want to. You’re not doing all of this because you think you’re supposed to, are you?”

The Doctor quickly projected as much love as he possibly could over the bond, quietly chastising himself behind his barriers for mucking things up. “No no no no no, I am 100% doing all of this because I want to. You’ve got to be able to tell that I want to do all of this, right?”

Rose gave him a slow nod.

“I just- I’m not- this honeymooning business isn’t exactly common knowledge for me. I did tell you about the research, after all. So I was just- it does seem like couples on their honeymoon tend to do all of their activities together. And I’m not really one for swimming in oceans and lakes and things, but I thought I- I-”

“No, I get it,” she interrupted and he was quite grateful, because his thought process had been getting away from him a bit. “And I know you don’t like changing your clothes. It’s fine.”

But still, she stepped back and then made her way over to the luggage and the Doctor threw up a bunch of barriers before mentally kicking himself.

“Which one is mine?” Rose interrupted his self-chastisement.

“Eh?”

“There’s two. Which one is mine?”

“Aren’t they both yours?”

“You think I need two suitcases? How long are we staying, anyway?”

He shrugged. “Long as you like? I only booked a week, though.”

She sat down and opened one of the suitcases before she began cackling. 

“What?! What is it?!”

“Ahh, come look!” she squealed, clutching her sides.

And soon as he ran over, the Doctor began cursing his irritating time ship. It was a suitcase full of a dreadful mix of paisley and floral button ups.

“This is ridiculous, I’m not wearing any of these.”

“Aww, they’re your vacation shirts.”

“I don’t need vacation shirts.”

“Oh, look, she’s packed you some swim trunks!” Rose noticed, holding up the swimwear for inspection - TARDIS blue, the pair he always wore ‘round the pool. Which reminded him-

“Why can’t my reason for wanting to do something be because it makes you happy?” he asked her.

The teasing grin left her face. “I mean, that’s sweet, Doctor. And you can, but you shouldn’t if the thing would make you unhappy.”

“But it’s not like I’m vehemently against swimming in natural water formations. It’s just kind of … icky.”

“Icky?”

“Yes, so if I can avoid it, I will. Though I did swim the channel for fun once, but that was different. I much prefer pools.”

“Then why’ve I never seen ya use the one on the TARDIS?” she asked, head tilted and eyes narrowed.

“Well … I mean …” I might have, kind of, not trusted myself to swim with you, so little clothing involved, he admitted telepathically, too embarrassed to say it aloud.

Rose giggled. “Suppose that’s fair.”

“We do have our own pool. It’s a very posh hotel. This is the honeymoon suite,” he told her. “We could swim together in the pool.”

“Okay. You’ll wear these at the beach with me?”

“B- but sand.”

The Doctor decided that as much as he didn’t care for his wife laughing at him, it was still preferable to her being mad at him. Besides, it did feel very nice in his head when she did it.

“Alright, alright, sit on the beach in your suit.”

“I could take off the coat? And the jacket? Maybe roll up my sleeves? Oh, and some sunglasses! That will be quite beach-y, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” came her idle response as she opened her own suitcase and began to rifle through it. Thankfully it didn’t take her long to select something to wear. “I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into a bathroom and the Doctor sighed. Still quite a long way from helping her get undressed. Needing something to occupy himself, he closed and moved the suitcases into the largest bedroom. While there, he did shed his coat and jacket, hooking a pair of sunglasses to his shirt before going back out into the main living area.

Just as he finished adjusting his shirtsleeves, Rose emerged wearing a bikini that matched his swim shorts exactly. It took him longer than he’d like to notice that his mouth had fallen open.

Glad you like it, Rose’s mental voice was bright and giggly.

“You’re positive you want to go to the beach right now, yes?” he felt the need to double check.

“Yup.”

“Right. Well then, erm, oh!” He dug into his pocket. “Sunscreen pill?”

“Why don’t we do it the old fashioned way?” she asked, sauntering up to him.

“Why would we do that?” the Doctor asked, frowning. She’d never refused a sunscreen pill before. “These are way better than 21st century Earth sunscreen.”

She knew that. He’d told her ages ago.

“Mmm … I dunno, there’s just somethin’ extra … intimate about you rubbing it on my back. Since we’re on trip three of our honeymoon ’n all.” 

And good, okay, yes, he was not going to bollocks this up again. Not three times in one day.

“I suppose … just this once … provided you sit in the shade,” he tried, his calculations for her skin and this planet’s sun not quite being what his libido would have liked.

“‘M not gonna sit in the shade,” she said, still smiling as she shook her head.

“Keep your skin covered up?”

“Nope. There’d be no point in putting on sunscreen.”

“Wear a hat?” the Doctor valiantly continued.

“TARDIS didn’t pack one.”

“You didn’t even take the time to look. You were in that suitcase about thirty seconds!”

“The TARDIS knows I don’t fancy them,” Rose countered.

“Does she really?”

“Yup.”

“What if I rubbed regular lotion on your back, and you took the sunscreen pill?”

“I suppose I can work with that,” she agreed, pulling him down for a kiss before accepting the pill.

“Brilliant! Molto bene! I’m sure they’ve got some in the bathroom already. Those little tiny travel sized ones!” he exclaimed, quickly ducking into the loo and finding himself correct. “These are the best. Just a tiny bit of everything. In case you forget your own, I’m assuming. Imagine collecting them! Your hair could have a different smell every day of the week. Did you know, there’s a species of alien a galaxy away from here that are so large, a thing of your regular lotion would look just like this dinky one in their hands?” he asked, holding up the teeny tiny lotion for his wife’s inspection.

“I love you,” she said instead of commenting and he certainly wasn’t complaining, their bond bright and warm in his head.

“I love you, too.”

They grabbed a blanket and a beach towel before heading out to their secluded beach. Rose immediately ran up to the water, like she always did, briefly testing it with her toes before running into the teal waves. The Doctor put on his sunglasses and settled in to watch, just like he always did, only now with their telepathic link he got to feel the entire experience from her point of view. It was quite nice to live it vicariously - after all, he never felt that way about going into oceans.

After a good twenty-three minutes she came back, dripping all over him and the blanket.

“Fun?” he asked, despite not needing to.

“Yeah,” she sighed, lying down on her stomach and pillowing her head on her arms.

“Good,” he nodded, smiling down at her as he picked up the towel and began to wipe the water off her back.

“Mmm thanks.”

“You’re welcome! Need a dry surface for the lotion.”

“Oh, I almost forgot about that.”

The Doctor just laughed before grabbing said lotion and beginning to massage it into her shoulders. The noises she began to make, combined with the pleasure he could feel over their bond, quickly made it very difficult for him to focus. In the end, the only thing that kept him from escalating things was his very real desire to not get a bunch of sand in some very unideal places.

“D’you smell that?” Rose asked as he made it down to her lower back.

He paused and took a big whiff, immediately realizing what she was talking about. “We just had chips two days ago,” he couldn’t help but point out. Actually, they’d had chips a fair amount during the London Olympics.

“So?”

“I really shouldn’t be surprised, should I?”

“They’re my favorite food,” she stated as if he hadn’t known this for years, pushing herself up on her elbows so that she could face him.

“You don’t say? We can get chips. I imagine the smell’s coming from one of the resort restaurants, so we could get chips for every meal if you wanted.” He finished up, sitting on his heels as Rose joined him.

“Think I’d get sick if I did that. And sick of chips. Can’t have that. But right now? Definitely. Then we can both go swimming. Just need to put my shorts and shirt on.”

“I think this is the shortest I’ve ever seen you spend at the beach,” the Doctor commented, following after her as she headed back into the suite. 

“Well, this time we’ve got all week. And it’s a private beach. Can go whenever I feel like it,” she grinned, and he couldn’t help but grin back.

“We’ll have to have them, you know, at the, er- after-wedding thing, reception! The reception. Chips.”

Rose had been about to pull on her shirt but paused, smiling softly at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Chips. That was our first date.”

“Yeah, it was. You and me, chips.”

The Doctor wondered if maybe chips were one of his favorite foods as well.

#timepetalsweek #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #ten x rose #timepetals #dw fic #tenrose #dw fanfic #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #fic: after all this time #my fic

[turtle-steverogers]

Not Guilty

remember when I was gonna write a murder mystery? well, it kinda took a turn plotwise, but here it finally is

Being a homicide detective is all fun and games until you start to fall for the lead suspect in your most recent case.

warnings: description of a dead body, talk about death

ship: ralbert, platonic spalbert

word count: 2480

Chapter 1

Even before Albert walked in on the dead body, his day wasn’t going well.  

His good uniform shirt hadn’t dried properly the night previous, so he had to go with his old one that was a little bit too small in all the wrong places.  The department was out of his favorite green tea, which meant he had to settle for that fucking dirt coffee Kelly and Conlon kept around for “sanity”.  And he’d been late on his lunch break, since Chief Roosevelt stuck Cortez’s paperwork on him last minute.

So, when he ventured into the bathroom of his favorite sandwich shop, only to find a fresh corpse and more blood than he ever really cared to see propped up neatly on the toilet, all he could find in himself to do was sigh.  And gag a little, but that was a given.

The coppery smell of blood and freshly shut down internal organs cuts brutally through the air and Albert reaches under his button down to pull his undershirt over his nose as he dials Spot’s number.  

As his phone’s ringing, Albert takes the time to steel himself and assess the body, first checking the pockets for any kind of identification.  When all he comes up with are a couple candy wrappers and a condom, he sighs again.  So, they’ll have to do this the hard way.  Typical.

“Yo, Dasilva, how’s the meatball sub?”

Albert gags again.  The last thing he wants to think about right now is his abandoned meat sandwich covered in red sauce.  No, nope.  Not right now.

“Yeah, uh, no,” Albert says, leaning back on his haunches, “We got a 10-54, possible homicide- multiple stab wounds to the chest and stomach.  I’m gonna need backup down here.”

There’s a pause, then Albert hears Spot groan, “And you’re still at Gianno’s?”

“Unfortunately.”

There’s a pause and Albert can picture Spot rubbing his eyes, “Fuck, okay, me and some others’ll be there soon.”

The line goes dead with a click and Albert casts another cursory look over the body.  Dilated eyes stare back at him, a slack jaw giving way to a bluish, swollen looking tongue.  He scrunches his nose, feeling a little dizzy.

“Bruh, you’re lookin’ rough.” 

The body does not answer.

-

The victim, Albert learns upon returning to the precinct, is some low level reporter for one of the smaller newspapers in New York: the Brooklyn Eagle.  

“Frank Wiesel, but folks call him Weasel.  Fitting, too.  The guys a biased asshole, apparently.  Republican, Conservative, the works.  Probably would fit in better with Fox News instead of a city newspaper, but…”

Spot leans back in his seat, tossing down the manilla case file and taking a long drink from his “10-4 Coffee That” mug.  It’s a stupid mug, but Spot has worshipped it since Jack had passed it over one Christmas Eve in the department, and honestly, Albert hasn’t seen him nearly as passionate over anything, so he bites his tongue. 

“An asshole, huh?” Albert pulls the case file towards himself and flips it open, eyes scanning the scowling face of Wiesel, “Anyone in particular who would have it out for him?  Or is he more of a generally known bastard type.”

“Hard to say,” Spot says, “He wrote some pretty nasty stuff about a few left leaning politicians in the area and got some pretty bad backlash because of that.  Plus his general lack of a filter’s gotten him kicked out of bars here and there around Manhattan, so…”

Albert hums, scrunching his nose.  Wiesel really is ugly.  All 1940s mobster with a stupid bowler hat and beady eyes, mouth turned down under a ratty handlebar mustache, “Has the autopsy come back yet?”

“They’re finishing up the toxicology report,” Spot says, “S’taking a little longer than usual, ‘cause Mush suspects something mighta been up with the vic’s blood.”

“Poison?”

“Maybe,” Spot shrugs and pours himself more coffee.  Albert eyes him, wondering how many cups he’s had today and vacantly wondering if Spot would be off put by him taking the pot and drinking directly from it.

“Has the wait staff at Gianno’s been questioned yet?”

“Mostly,” Spot answers.  The look in his eye tells Albert that he’s about to drop something pivotal.

He cocks his head, “Mostly?”

“One waiter went home right before the murder occured.  Claimed a migraine.”

Albert’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline.  Now that is interesting, “And nobody fucking thought to bring this guy in?”

XXX

The waiter- Antonio Higgins, according to the file Katherine handed off to Albert and Spot- lives in an older looking apartment complex a few blocks down from Gianno’s.  Despite the slightly dilapidated exterior, the place has a pleasant enough, homey sort of vibe.  The vague smell of pasta sauce wafts through the air, assaulting their nostrils the moment they step into the building.  Distinct Italian villa music plays in soft undertones through the lobby and the walls are adorned with various renaissance-era paintings.  

Albert and Spot exchange a short glance, raising their eyebrows slightly before approaching the front desk.  The lady behind the counter is a stout, but demanding woman, her eyes lined with harsh black rouge and hand gesturing wildly as she speaks on the phone in rapid fire Italian.  A quick glance towards her name tag tells Albert that her name is Maria, which fits her whole Italian mother look.  Albert watches, bemused, as she looks at them inquisitively, then at the badges on their shirts and rolls her eyes, firing off a few more sentences into the receiver before hanging up the landline and placing it back on its phone stand.  

“Yes, hello officers, how may I help you?” Her heavily accented voice is tinged with annoyance and Albert sees Spot shoot him another glance in his peripheral.

Inwardly, Albert sighs.  He’s never understood why people can’t just be cooperative.

“Hi, ma’am, sorry for the inconvenience,” He trains his voice into something resembling empathy and plasters his most charming smile onto his face.  She doesn’t look amused, “I’m Detective DaSilva and this is my partner, Detective Conlon.  We’re here from the 17th precinct investigating a case regarding the tragedy that occurred over in Gianno’s earlier today and one of the waitstaff there, Antonio Higgins, lives here in your building.  We’ve got a few questions for him, so if you could do us the courtesy of buzzing us up to his room, that would be greatly appreciated.”

Maria’s eyes widen and when she speaks, the previous irritation is absent, “Tonio?  Is he in trouble?  That boy is the sweetest thing, so helpful.  There’s no way he could be who you are looking for.”

Albert tries to soften his expression, “He’s in no trouble yet, ma’am, I assure you.  We’re just following protocol and questioning all employees at Gianno’s.  He went home a little before the incident occurred, so we were not able to question him with the rest of the waitstaff.”

Maria looks a little relieved at this, but her sternness is back when she says, “Alright, I will buzz you up, but don’t do anything to hurt my dear Tonio.  He’s had a tough year and I’d hate for some pish posh detectives to upset him further.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Spot says, amicably.  

Maria picks up the phone again, presumably to call Higgins’ room and Spot looks at Albert, mouthing, ‘tough year?’  Albert shrugs and shakes his head, turning back to Maria as she hangs up the phone with a friendly, “Si, si, abbi cura, tesoro.”

“Okay,” She says dismissively, waving her hand as she picks up a pen and starts scribbling on some papers, “You can go up.  Elevators are around the corner.  Tonio lives on the 7th floor, room 712B.”

They thank her and head towards the elevators, relieved to find the one that picks them up to be empty.  

“I wonder what this Higgins dude’s been through for the fuckin’ receptionist to be that protective,” Spot says, pressing the button for the seventh floor and wincing when the elevator groans as it begins to ascend.

“Yeah, me too,” Albert agrees, “Sounded kind of cryptic, too.  Hope he’s in a good enough headspace to be helpful.”

And it’s true.  The more fucked up the suspect, the less willing they are to talk.  Vexation is one of the many banes of Albert’s existence.  They arrive at the floor and find room 712B at the end of the hallway.  Spot knocks and in less time than they anticipated, the door swings open to reveal a tired looking man.  He’s a bit taller than either of them with curly blond hair that sits like a mop on top of his head.  His blue eyes are accentuated by the bruise-like bags that sit underneath and the pallor of his skin makes it look like he’s sick; or was sick.  With a wince, Albert remembers that this guy had supposedly gone home with a migraine earlier.  

“Officers,” The man- Antonio- greets tiredly.  He looks bored at their presence and leans his shoulder casually on the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  His grey t-shirt stretches obscenely over well-muscled arms and Albert swallows.  Spot snorts next to him.

Recovering, Albert flashes him a quick smile, “Antonio, right?  I’m Detective Dasilva and this is my partner, Detective Conlon.  I’m assuming you’re aware of the incident that occurred over at Gianno’s earlier today?”

Antonio’s bored expression doesn’t waver, but when he sighs, it sounds shaky, “‘Course I heard.  Business is about to go to shit ‘cause of it, too.  No one’s gonna wanna come to a murder scene to eat, so bye-bye good paychecks.”

“Right, I apologise for that,” Albert continues, “But we’ve gotta ask you a few questions regarding the case.”

Antonio’s eyebrows shoot up, “Am I a suspect?”

“Everyone’s a suspect until we find the culprit,” Spot says evenly.

“Right…” Antonio sighs again, “Okay, come in I guess.”  

He opens the door wider to allow them to enter and turns to walk into the apartment, flicking on a few lights along the way.  Albert follows him, noting how excessively clean the apartment is as he makes his way to the kitchen where Antonio is opening a pill bottle and throwing back a few pills, washing them down with what Albert assumes is coffee.  Spot joins him in the mouth of the kitchen, looking as hesitant as Albert feels.  Antonio looks at them, lips quirking upwards into something like a smirk.

“Want anything to drink?” He offers, “I’ve got water, coffee, milk...if you’re weird like that.”

“We’re good, thank you,” Spot declines, stepping further into the kitchen and leaning against one of the counters.  

Albert follows suit, noting with a frown that everything here is impeccably organized as well.  A neat row of cookbooks are pressed against the fridge, descending in order from thickest to thinnest.  The counters are bare and shiny, boasting no crumbs or residue.  Kitchen appliances line the walls neatly, also showing barely any sign of use.  Albert suspects if they opened up the fridge and the cabinets, they’d find neatly stacked dishes and immaculately organized silverware.  

Antonio shrugs, sipping again from his coffee mug, “Suit yourself.”

“Okay,” Spot pulls out his pocket notebook, flipping it open to a blank page and clicking his pen against his chest, “So you claimed to have gone home around 12:20 with a migraine.  Did you take any detours on the way home?”

Antonio’s jaw clenches, “Well, seeing as my head was trying to kill me from the inside out, I wasn’t very keen on going window shopping, so…”

Albert hears Spot blow out a breath through his nose, “I need a direct answer here, sir, if you could please.”

Antonio rolls his eyes, “Yes, I came straight home.”

Undeterred, Spot plows on, “Did you have any connections to the victim, Frank Wiesel?  Was he a regular customer that you knew of?  Anything of that sort?”

“Fuckin’ Weasel was the one to get his ass smoked?” Antonio says, nostrils flaring.

“So you did know the victim,” Albert says.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ knew him.  Worked with my Pa for a while, before leaving him in the dust to go work for some hotshot newspaper.  Asshole if I ever knew him,” Antonio shakes his head, laughing dryly, “‘Bout time he met his maker.”

“Okay, don’t say that to any officer about a murder vic,” Albert admonishes, “And you said he worked with your dad?  What did they do together?”

Antonio shifts, suddenly looking uncomfortable, “I don’t really know, but my Pa never liked him much.  Always complained about how he was tryna ‘do him in for a big one’ whatever that means.  I think it had something to do with accounting, but I’m not entirely certain.”

Spot’s nodding, scribbling rapidly in his notebook, “You met him, yes?”

“Few times,” Antonio says, “ornery fucker.  Homophobic, too.  That was the only front he and my Pa ever agreed on it seemed.  Which worked wonderfully in my favor.”  He says that last part sarcastically and Albert sends a brief look to Spot who grimaces.

“Where’s your dad now?” Albert asks.  The situation Antonio’s painted for his involvement with Wiesel sounds like a breeding ground for motives- if not from him directly, then his father.

“Dead,” Antonio smiles bitterly, “Was fighting cancer for a while and finally kicked the can ‘bout three months ago.”

There’s a tense pause and Spot clears his throat, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Antonio snorts and Albert senses his frustration building.

“And you were here, in this apartment building, when the murder occurred say around...12:50?”

Antonio blinks, “I already told you I came straight home,” he pauses, “I didn’t fuckin’ kill Weasel.”

“We’re not saying-”

Antonio scoffs, “Kind of sounds like you are.  We done here?  ‘Cause as you seemed to know, I went home because of a migraine, which is still fucking me up.  So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Yes, my apologies,” Albert says, sensing that they weren’t going to get anything else out of this visit.  He nudges Spot, beginning to back out of the kitchen.  Antonio follows them to the door, watching warily as they step out, “Thank you for your time.  I appreciate your cooperation.  We’ll probably be back sometime this week for a few follow up questions.”

Antonio wrinkles his nose, “Wonderful.”

The door shuts with a resounding click and Albert and Spot stare at it for a long moment.

“Well…” Spot starts.

“Yeah,” Albert says, “There’s some digging to do here.”

“Sure is.”

They begin to retreat back towards the elevators.

“You gotta be careful, though.” Spot says, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

“About what?” 

“You were totally hot for him.”

Albert thunks his head against the elevator wall, groaning, “Man, shut up.”

Spot just laughs.

-

i actually know where this one is heading plot wise, so...,.,

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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#newsies #newsies fic #ralbert #albert dasilva #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #hehe

[5typesoftrash]

Good Morning, Darkest Secrets

For @specialagentrin because goddammit, she has inspired me to write so much fic recently. It isn’t even funny. I loveeeeeeee youuuuuuuuuu

RATING T RELATIONSHIPS Dean/Cas, Sam/Cas FANDOM Supernatural Words 2,715 Comments/Warnings angst, pining, unrequited love (I’ll let you see which side), tw: suicidal thoughts/actions/ideation, depression, tw: abuse

***

A boy climbs through his window. “Ow!” he says when he hits the floor.

Dean sits up in bed and looks at him. “Who are you?” he asks. The boy sits up.

“Huh,” he says instead of answering, peering at Dean’s face in the dark. “I must have overshot. I’m looking for Sam Winchester.”

Dean closes his eyes in exasperation. “Wrong bedroom,” he manages. “Sammy’s down the hall. Why are you breaking into our house?”

The kid shrugs. “Felt like it. Which door?”

Dean watches him. He moves weird, kinda like Sam and Dean themselves do, and Dean wonders what that means. He’s almost got it, it’s on the tip of his tongue-

“First on your right. If he hits you, I wasn’t here.”

The kid glances over his shoulder and flashes Dean a grin that makes his knees weak. “I’ll remember that.”

Dean is ten years old.

--

The boy’s name is Castiel. He’s in Sam’s class. He’s seven. (Sam is eight.)

Dean learns all of this the next morning at breakfast, after his dad’s yelling wakes him up. Something about Sam having a boy in his bed and how John refuses to let his sons be homos. Whatever that means.

Mary calms him down with a soft voice and a hand on his arm and invites Castiel to breakfast. Dean’s eyes follow this mysterious new boy the whole way down the stairs.

Castiel’s shoulders still shift awkwardly under his coat (which Dean can see in the light of day is a trench coat. He didn’t know those came small enough for seven-year-olds) and Dean still burns to find out why that looks so familiar. But he refrains.

There are things he can’t blurt out at the breakfast table.

Mary gives Castiel three slices of toast and almost half their jam. He stares at it with wide eyes for almost thirty seconds. “It’s food,” Dean says helpfully. “You eat it. Are you okay?”

Castiel looks up at him with blue eyes free of guile or blame. “Are you sure you can spare this much?” he asks of the entire room. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Dude, nobody talks like that,” Dean tells him, laughing. Mary smacks the back of his head.

“Yes, of course we can. I wouldn’t give it to you if we couldn’t scrape by.”

Castiel looks down at his plate in shame. “This is more food than I’ve gotten at one meal in three years.”

Dean’s mouth drops open. “No way.”

Castiel turns red and takes a bite of his toast. No one says anything else. Mary tells Dean off later for being rude and insensitive.

Dean is still fascinated.

--

Castiel is new in town, but he stays for a long time. He starts coming home from school with Sam every day. They’re obviously best friends.

Dean is… Dean is jealous.

Of Sam.

That’s never happened before.

He hangs out in the same room as them a lot of the time, but they are always very obviously hanging out with each other. He’s just the weird big brother who’s also there.

And Cas – Dean has no idea when he became ‘Cas’ – seems to avoid him at all costs, if he can. Dean tries not to push. He just doesn’t know why Cas is so uncomfortable around him. But it doesn’t matter, because it goes away after a few months. By July, they’re all hanging out together, playing Mario Kart and marathoning Star Wars.

But Dean is still jealous.

--

Dean’s a freshman when Sam starts middle school. He and Cas have three of six classes together, and Cas comes over to study every chance he gets. Dean stopped being jealous of Sammy around the end of seventh grade, but he thinks he’ll always be bitter that Cas seems to prefer Sam to him.

Especially at night, when he opens the little box that he keeps locked in the back of his mind. It sits on a shelf, gathering dust, and inside are all the feelings, the thoughts, the little things Dean catalogued in those first two years. Dean shoved them all in their when he realized what it was, and he never lets them out, except when he’s miserable and alone.

He’s spent the last two years since then praying that it would go away. He needs it to go away. He can’t be like this, he can’t be a freak, he can’t be that thing that his father was so scared of when Dean was just ten years old. He can’t.

He is.

One day, he lays on the floor of Sam’s room with his giant-ass AP World History textbook wide open on his face when Sam says it.

“I kissed Cas today.”

Sam is on his bed, on his stomach, flipping through his Alg-one notebook, trying to make sense of the notes he took in class. He says it nonchalantly, out of the blue, and Dean almost does a spit take.

“Um.” Dean’s voice is muffled by the college ruled pages above him. He sits up and closes the book. “You did what now?” he asks incredulously.

Sam looks at him evenly. His hair is a little bit too long – he’s been growing it out this year. Dean tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen. “I kissed him,” he repeats.

There’s a pause, then Dean says, “well, what happened?”

Sam scoffs. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you! Nothing happened. I liked a guy, I kissed him, he kissed back, end of story.”

“He kissed back?” Dean doesn’t know why he can’t seem to process any of the information that’s being thrown at him. (That’s a lie; it’s because he’s so fucking blindsided by all of this that he can barely register Sammy likes guys, let alone Sammy likes the guy that I like or the guy that I like likes Sammy back.) “So what now? Are you like… boyfriends?”

Sam shrugs. “We haven’t gotten that far. It was at lunch break and we haven’t seen each other since.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Don’t you have fifth together?”

“Yeah, we sit on opposite sides of the room and we were doing a lab today so we couldn’t even email back and forth like we usually do in that class.”

Dean lets out a whoosh of air and collapses back onto the floor. “Alright then. Well, good luck.” He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say.

Sam makes a derisive noise. “Right. Thanks, Dean.”

“Whatever, bitch.”

Sam flips him off without looking away from his notes. “Exactly, jerk.”

Dean is miserable now.

--

They are boyfriends.

Dean discovers this six days later. It’s Tuesday, which is a cursed day in his opinion, because it’s the day he dies every week. (Tuesdays are inspection day. He has to wear his uniform into school and he’s not allowed to touch anybody or wear a hat.) And now it’s more cursed because it will forever be the day that Castiel Novak told him he was dating his brother immediately after spilling iced coffee on him.

“Okay, asshole, it is on,” Dean snarls, only kind of playing. “This is my ROTC uniform. How fuckin’ dare you.”

Cas just laughs when Dean shoves him. “Dean, I apologized. I’ll get it dry cleaned for you.”

Dean grumbles as he wads up napkins and dabs at it. “You don’t have the money for that,” he says finally. “I’ll do it myself.”

Cas closes his mouth, then opens it again to say, “are you going to kill me if I date your brother?”

Dean’s head snaps up. “Why would I kill you?”

Cas can’t meet his eyes. “Well, you’re incredibly protective of him, and when I first moved here, you didn’t seem to… like me very much.”

Dean scoffs. “Fuck me,” he sings under his breath. “Nah, man, you’re great. I’m just a dick like that. But don’t worry about it, okay? No, go ahead and date Sam. He’s been crushing on you for like, ever.”

Cas looks incredibly relieved. “Great,” he says quietly. “Good. Thank you.”

Dean just nods his acknowledgment and waves Cas away. He needs to hit the road in the next fifteen minutes if he’s gonna get to the school on time, and Cas and Sam have to catch their bus.

(Dean fails his inspection that day.)

--

Cas is a freshman when Dean finally finds out why he moves funny.

Dean is a junior, and he’s about .3 GPA away from dropping out of high school, and he goes to pick Cas up one day because he is the one chaperoning Cas and Sam’s dates. Because their parents don’t even know Sam’s gay.

(Bi? He mighta said he was bi. Dean really has no idea, all his tiny brain has room for is Sam likes Cas.)

He walks into Cas’s house and the first thing he hears is the wet smack of flesh on flesh. The second thing he hears is something thwip-ing through the air. The third thing he hears is crying. The fourth thing he hears is Cas’s voice, and Cas is begging.

“Please stop,” he cries. “Please, Luci, I’ll do anything, please! Just stop!”

Dean pushes the door open and there are three boys inside it. One looks about a year older than Dean, with pale hair and evil-looking eyes. One is Castiel, who looks terrified, like a deer in headlights as he stares wide-eyed at Dean. And one is shorter, sandier, unconscious, and bleeding.

“Did you kill him?” he demands the tall one. He assumes this is Luci, especially considering the bloody gashes on Cas’s exposed back – holy shit, Cas isn’t wearing a shirt and Dean has only just registered that – that match the bloody metal end of the belt Luci’s holding.

Cas kneels, in Luci’s moment of distraction, to press two fingers to the short one’s throat. “He’s alive,” he whispers, and his voice wavers and breaks. Dean glares at the tall guy.

“Get the hell out of here,” he commands. Luci looks confused and defiant but leaves the room. Dean pulls out his phone and dials 911.

“Who was that?” he asks when they’re riding in the back of an ambulance. Cas doesn’t look at him.

“One of the twins, the two oldest. Lucifer. He likes to hurt the rest of us. He does it for sport.”

Dean purses his lips. “Right,” he whispers. “I should’ve known.”

Cas does look at him then. “Why should you have known?”

Dean meets his eyes with sorrow. “Cause I’m an abuse victim too.”

--

Somehow, Sam and Cas are still going strong by their sophomore year, celebrating 3 years in October. On their anniversary (the fourth), Cas stands outside of their house with a big sign. Dean sees him through the open front door.

He stands in the doorway to read it. It says “HOMECOMING?” Dean grins.

“Yeah!” he shouts. Cas shakes his head, laughing.

Tell Sam, he mouths. Dean turns his head and shouts up the stairs.

“Sammy, I’m taking your boyfriend to homecoming!”

“Whatever, jerk!” Sam yells back.

“You won’t be saying that when we’re doin’ it in a limo, bitch!” Dean declares, then drops a wink at Cas and disappears back into the house.

--

Sam still seems happy by junior year. Dean has long since dropped out by now and is working part-time with their uncle Bobby. He never sees Cas anymore, and that’s probably for the better, considering that every time he does, he is in desperate need of a cold shower.

Sam still raves about him obliviously, and Dean still listens with a straight face – a talent he’s mastered after years of hiding his own stupid bullshit. Dean doesn’t let on. He’s gotten very, very good at not letting on.

He breaks down, once, and Sam finds him. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, and it’s made more so by the fact that he can’t even explain to his brother why he’s crying on the floor of the bathroom. Sam doesn’t seem to care, though. He just grabs Dean and pulls him close to his chest and doesn’t let him go for a very, very long time.

Dean hates everything.

--

Dean hates how amazing his little brother is. Sam is such a great person, and he deserves the kind of happiness he’s found with Cas. They’ve been together for six years and they’re both so much happier than they were before. Dean’s seen the change happen firsthand.

He hates how much he resents it. He hates how much he wishes he could ruin it for them. He hates how terrible a person he is, for wanting to destroy this beautiful thing that Sam managed to create for himself out of the ashes of their old life.

He hates himself.

Dean has Castiel’s phone number. He’s used it a grand total of once.

He uses it now.

You and Sam deserve each other is all his message says. It doesn’t say any of the other hundreds of things he wants it to say. It doesn’t say that Dean’s a coward. It doesn’t say that Dean is a terrible person who doesn’t deserve Cas’s friendship. It doesn’t say that Dean hopes Cas and Sam are happy together. It doesn’t say that Dean hopes everyone’s happier without him.

It doesn’t say that if all goes well, Dean will be dead before Cas reads that text message.

He almost jumps out the fourth-story window. He manages to stop himself.

He spends the night in the hospital with a pump in his stomach.

Sam is the only family member who waits with him.

--

Shit hits the fan when Sam comes home for Christmas break. He’s been off at Stanford for three months – and Cas with him, because Cas swore to follow Sam anywhere – and they both come home for two weeks in the end of December.

Mom’s dead; she killed herself eighteen months ago. Dad was killed in a drunk driving crash. Sam and Dean are all alone, just the two of them and Cas and uncle Bobby.

Bobby pays for the house, the upkeep, the water and electric; he takes care of everything so that Dean can keep living there, in Lawrence, in a huge fucking house that he doesn’t need, all on his own.

He should just sell the place, move to Palo Alto to be near his brother, and get a tiny apartment for less than a thousand dollars a month if he can hack it.

He doesn’t sell it because it’s the last place their mom was alive.

Sam and Cas come home and they all get a tree together. They decorate it on the nineteenth. On the twenty-second, Sam asks Dean why he’s been avoiding them all break.

“I’m not avoiding you guys,” Dean denies, even though he is.

“Then why won’t you look at me? Why haven’t you said more than five words to Cas since we’ve been here? Why do you spend all your time holed up in your room?”

Dean rolls his eyes and tries to shrug it off, but then Sam says something that cuts deep.

“Do you still not approve of me dating him?”

Dean freezes.

“What?”

Sam’s face looks broken. “He’s tried so hard to win you over, to make you like him. Do you still hate him that much?”

Dean can’t hold it in anymore. He can’t.

“No, I don’t!” he screams. “I never hated him! He’s my best friend, man, and I care about him as much as you do! But no, I don’t approve of you dating him.”

“Why not?” Sam asks. His cheeks are glistening and his face is broken. His eyes look hopeless.

“Because I’m in love with your boyfriend, Sammy!” Dean yells.

There’s silence for fourteen seconds before someone speaks.

“I should leave.”

Dean glances around. Cas is standing in the doorway. He presses his eyes closed.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he whimpers.

“Yeah, well, I did,” Cas replies. He pushes past Dean and leaves the front door open when he walks through it. Sam shoots Dean a look and follows him.

As they walk away from him, Dean thinks he’s just ruined the only thing he had left that was actually important to him.

Good going, Dean.

#destiel #sastiel #deansil writes #supernatural au

[ununniliad]

Burst Beetle Tweseveny #7: “2007: The Translation of Desire and the Satisfaction of the Fire!”

 Content warning: Unreality, second-person narration.

<<<*>>>

     Tweseveny reaches out to one of the narrative threads, the one that

     tastes like Time-Waster Lad, and starts reading...

"...so yeah," says Mother Time. "We usually freeze time in some restaurant and steal the plates right off of people's tables. Man do they kick up a fuss! But by then we're gone."

Time-Waster Lad smiles and nods, pulling a pan out of the oven and setting it on the rack. He's dabbled in cooking before, usually making some monstrosity out of whatever could be pulled out of the back of the freezer, tossed together and heated until done. But this time, he's keeping it simple - flatbread, barbecue sauce, cheese, pizza. No matter how strong the itch to dive deep into the cupboards and try all the spices one at a time is. "I've never tried that. I guess I should some time, mwahaha." His 'net.villain' persona isn't very good, but that doesn't really seem to matter - Mother Time is mostly paying attention to herself.

"Yeah, don't worry about being original, we've basically done all the cool stuff first." She swings the Hourglass thru the air and turns a stack of protein bars into a mountain of nuts, dates, and chocolate chips. She picks out a chip and nibbles on it daintily.

Right. Waste her time! Keep her talking! It's his strength! "So, Mother Time--"

"Hey, hey." She holds up a finger. "Call me Tamela. But not Tammy, capiche?"

"Ri-- capiche." Time-Waster lad slides the pan into the oven to reset his conversational momentum. "But uh, the Time Crapper. I don't really know the guy! What do you like about him?"

"Hmmmmmm..." Mother, uh, Tamela leans back against the kitchen counter, setting the hourglass on it and the scythe against it-- whew, that's a little less nerve-wracking. "Well, for one thing, he's real powerful. I find guys who can destroy the Looniverse in a fit of rage, then repair it when they get hungry, incredibly sexy."

Time-Waster Lad took a moment to think about Kid Kirby. "Yeah, that's hot."

"Right?" Tamela grinned lewdly, then rolled her head back and sighed. "Even tho he's so powerful, tho, I've always got to be the one telling him what to do. It's like he doesn't want anything. Except me, of course, which is nice I do admit~"

Time-Waster Lad nods thoughtfully. "You know, that reminds me of someone I used to work with. Miss Translation. Or, well... you remind me of her, and the Time Crapper reminds me of me, there." He giggles awkwardly, oh dear.

"Reeeeeally." Tamela goes back to grinning. "Was she hot?"

"Er, well, it, we didn't really have that kind of relationship!" Time-Waster Lad flushes. "...but yeah, she was. And she was super dynamic - going for what she wanted, leaping without looking."

"Fuck yeah. That's what I'm talking about." Tamela snaps her fingers and spins around in place. "You gotta have things you want and you gotta go for them."

Time-Waster Lad smiles. "Yeah. Really, I've never been great at wanting things... or, like, I'll want something really hard for a week and then forget why I wanted it in the first place. But she had these big heroic goals... um, you know, back when I was a net.hero was when this all was," he clarifies.

Tamela shrugs. "Hero goals, villain goals, whatever. We all want something, right? Hey, is that pizza done?"

"Oh, just a sec..." Time-Waster Lad grabs the oven mitts (patterned with little cheesecakes and hearts) and pulls the pizzas out, sliding them onto the plates, grabbing the pizza cutter, and making four precise slices. "Ta-da~"

Tamela grabs a slice and takes a big messy bite. "Mmmm! You're good at this shit."

Time-Waster Lad smiles, a little bit of pride rising in his breast despite the multilayered stress of the situation. "Yeah, well, I mess around in the kitchen a lot."

"Noice. You know, I bet you'd make a great henchman," says Tamela, and Time-Waster Lad notices her eyeing him very speculatively...

"Ahaha, well!" Time-Waster Lad blushingly steps behind the counter and engages Distracting Ramble Mode. "That's kind of how I feel I was for Miss Translation. She had the big goals and the loud voice and I was happy translating for her and keeping the violence pointed in the right direction."

"But it wasn't that kinda relationship, huh." Tamela wiggles her eyebrows.

"Heh, well..." Time-Waster Lad bites his lip. "I mighta had a bit of a crush... But also, like... it felt like I was really helping. Like I was making a difference in the lives of people I cared about." He shakes his head. "Haven't felt like that in a while, t'be honest."

"Mmmmmm..." Tamela crosses her arms. "Me either... but like, you're a net.villain now! You can just make whatever you want happen, by force!"

"Er, yeah." Time-Waster Lad licks his lips. Let's be honestish... "But, well, so far that hasn't been all that satisfying either."

"...yeah, for me either." Tamela is looking into Time-Waster Lad's face. She seems to be taking him seriously. Should he... I mean, they're friendshipping the villains, right? What would he tell a friend in this situation?

He'd... okay, he wouldn't put down what a friend was doing. "Like... don't get me wrong, I bet Acton Lord wouldn't be Acton Lord if he didn't like being a net.villain. And Manga Man always seemed like he was having fun."

Mother Time looks off into the distance. Her face, lines smoothed, calm, thoughtful, is... nice. "...actually, didn't both of them retire or something?"

"...oh, well, fair." Time-Waster Lad rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "I hear Manga Man's back, tho... er, well, anyway. The point is..." His chest fills with breath, and confidence suddenly flows back into his secret places. "I wouldn't be Time-Waster Lad if I didn't like to kick back and hang out, watch some TV, play a board game, heck, just shoot the breeze. Y'know? That's all me."

"...damn, y'know, I didn't think someone could be passionate about doing jack shit~" She reaches out, and the hairs on the back of Time-Waster Lad's neck stand up, but she just ruffles his hair affectionately. It seems like it should feel weird, condescending, but instead it's just kinda nice.

So he gives her a nice smile. "So yeah... but uh, if this hasn't been satisfying for you, maybe you need to..." He pushes that confidence back in. "Maybe you need to look at your net.villain name and go, hey, should I pick out another one?" He shrugs~ "I mean, no offense, but you don't seem like you'd really wanna have kids?"

"...hah! Yeah, that's true. I picked it to fit with loverboy in there, but..." She frowns. "Maybe I should've just picked out one for myself..."

Yes! Good! "Like what?" Time-Waster Lad says, encouragingly. There's a sound behind him - someone's pushing the doors of the cafeteria open - is Tweseveny back? But he tries to concentrate on Tamela's words.

"...mmmm... Maybe--"

"Excuse me." Time-waster Lad turns his head in shock - that's not Tweseveny's voice!

The doors swing closed behind a new figure. She wears a suit of armor, with panels of what looks like lacquered mahogany in curves reminiscent of the shells of insects. There's gold trim at the wrists, ankles, and neck, and along each joint, with ivory inlays running the length of each panel. She wears a helmet with a faceted yellow visor, shaped to resemble a pair of eyes squinting with supercilious superiority, and a pair of ornate clock hands in a V on her forehead. At her waist, she wears a golden belt, with a buckle that looks like an analog clock face, hands at 7:20.

Oh shoot. Time-Waster Lad doesn't recognize the outfit - is she a newbie LNHer, another net.villain, something else? "Uhhhhh, hello, fellow net.villain, I was just chatting with my fellow net.villain Mother Time here--"

"Right." The figure pushes past him and stands in front of Mother Time, arms crossed. "Why haven't you gone to get the Rung?"

"The LNHQ was undefended like you said," oh shoot thinks Time-Waster Lad that's who this is "but there's a Cosmic Bear blocking the way, so Time-Waster Lad and his henchlady offered to help us until it's taken care of."

The unfamiliar person who's definitely a net.villain of some sort just stares at Mother Time for a moment. She raises two fingers and rubs the little circle on her forehead, between the clock hands. "I said it would be almost undefended. As in very few net.heroes there. As in two."

"..." Mother Time stares off into space. Time-Waster Lad can see her face tightening, and his stomach drops out as he understands what she understands, as the peppy energy and the gentle words he sent to her erode away like a sandcastle in the tide. He takes a step backwards, then another, his chest tensing.

Without looking, Mother Time reaches out and picks up her scythe. The moment her hand closes around the handle, the blade blazes with the unearthly blue of Cherenkov radiation. "You know what. I'm picking a new name. I'll be..." She turns and brandishes the scythe! "KILLER OF STUPID JERK TIME-WASTER LAD... WOMAN!"

"eeeeeeeengh FRICK!" Time-Waster Lad throws himself backwards, heaviness in his belly spinning sickeningly, and bolts out the swinging doors. Mother Time grabs the Hourglass and gives chase!

The unfamiliar person watches them go, leaning on the counter, shaking her head and muttering to herself. "'There's a bear'? Come on! That's the oldest excuse in the book, next to the old cat-ate-the-ocarina gag!"

She straightens and turns, towards the reader, lenses looking through the words that you're reading to meet your gaze. "And as for you..."

     Tweseveny, lulled into the reverie of being a reader, startles out!

     The shape of the narrative is changing, turning, someone pushing her

     way out! Tweseveny pulls her perspective back, pulls herself back to being a character experiencing the story from within - but suddenly she's staggering back from an unfamiliar figure - no, she's very familiar - she's staggering back from Burst Beetle M-Plot!

"What--" says Tweseveny, back hitting the wall, hand going to her belt buckle. "How!?"

"A little messing with narrative framing shouldn't be that complicated for a writer." M-Plot spits the word like it's made of phenylthiocarbamide. "Time Crapper." She that focused gaze on  him. "She's lying, distracting you from getting the Rung. She's hoping for the LNH to return and stop you."

The Time Crapper stills. His faceless gaze turns to Tweseveny, and in a voice that's consciously held steady, but has a certain husky sadness to it nevertheless, he says, "Is this true?"

"...I..." Tweseveny bites her lip. She feels like dirt. She's failed to make a new friend, failed to support someone in trouble... now all she can do is fight another iteration of the same old battle.

Enough - she owes him an answer. She presses the pink gem on her belt buckle, and long sheets of old-style printer paper appear from nowhere to wrap her in a cocoon. The cocoon bursts to reveal black armor with amber trim, a helmet with a visor shaped like wide green eyes, shoulderpads shaped like a stylized 2 and 7, and a crest on her forehead in the shape of a V. She faces him, and slides into a defensive pose, fists up.

"...I see. Well." The Time Crapper smooths out his robe, stands up, and nods, solemnly, to Tweseveny. "Thank you, anyway, for listening to me. But net.villains do betray each other, and..." He spreads his hands. The plants on either side of the couch begin to wilt, and the lights seem to dim around them. "I think this is the part where I kill you and take what I want."

<<<*>>>

Drew "wanted to do even more reader-Tweseveny stuff but couldn't fit it in" Nilium

#Original Fiction #Superheroes #Adventure #Drama #Legion of Net.Heroes #Classic LNH #Burst Beetle Tweseveny

[tisfan]

Normal Everyday Asshole Aliens

86 Tony/Eddie/Venom @journeythroughtherain  & Anonymous “Damn, you’re strong for a little thing.”

The last time Tony had been in San Francisco, he and Eddie had gone on a pub crawl, sampling not beer or whiskey, but onion rings. Tony had been determined to find the best god damned pub rings in the city, and Eddie had laughingly tagged along.

Some five hours later, groaning from too much grease and fried dough, they’d gone back to Eddie’s apartment and made out until they’d fallen asleep in the middle of necking. Tony had woken up with a stomach ache, a horrible crick in his neck from sleeping slumped over on top of Eddie on the couch, the worst morning breath of his entire life, and absolutely no regrets.

He knew why Eddie’d had to leave New York, and he understood, but he kind of wished it hadn’t been necessary. Eddie was fun, challenged Tony’s assumptions about things, and understood completely about the kind of schedule Tony had to keep and the reasons he couldn’t commit to being a boyfriend. What they had was good. It was enough.

It had been more than half a year since Tony’d had an excuse to go to San Francisco, and he was looking forward to meeting up with Eddie. Maybe hooking up, if they could make their schedules match up.

He wasn’t expecting Eddie to meet him at the airport, but there he was, leaning against the wall as Tony’s private jet touched down. Tony wasn’t sure how he’d gotten past TSA or security, but he didn’t ask, either.

“You… uh, you look good, Tony,” Eddie said. “Came on my bike, thought you might want a ride?”

Eddie paused, tipping his head to one side, his eyes glazing a little bit, as if he was listening to a phone conversation, before he shook it off and gave Tony a wide grin. Eddie was nothing like most of Tony’s partners, scruffy and wearing a shlubby hoodie. He had a bike helmet in one hand, but pulled Tony in for a quick embrace with the other.

Tony grinned back and swung his leg over the bike, snuggling up against Eddie’s back suggestively. “Got a bitch helmet for me?”

“This one is for you, I don’t, uh… I don’t wear one anymore,” Eddie said. He handed over the brain bucket to Tony and then kicked the bike to life. The motor roared and the whole thing buzzed like an overgrown vibrator between Tony’s thighs.

(more below the cut)

Tony pulled on the helmet. “Your funeral,” he said, raising his voice a little to be heard over the growl of the bike. “I heard they were cracking down on helmetless riders, though. How are you not swimming in tickets?”

“Gotta get caught to get a ticket,” Eddie said, and with that, he gunned the motor and they peeled out of the airport, leaving a very angry Happy behind waving Tony’s suitcase at them. “Long story, lemme take you-- uh, someplace special. And I’ll… I got some stuff to tell you that you won’t believe.”

Tony laughed. “I was fighting off shapechanging aliens in Chicago last week; what’ve you got to top that?”

“Challenge accepted,” Eddie said. He was pushing the bike well past the original engine’s capabilities, and not at all safe for the hilly roads and narrow pavement of the city, but Eddie never faltered. It was like flying in the armor, only… more. And lower to the ground. It was all but impossible to stifle a whoop of excitement.

Eddie took them out of the city and up through a suburban neighborhood, still topping well over ninety, and then skidded to a sudden stop at the very edge of a cliff that overlooked San Francisco's famous bridge.

“Pretty up here,” Eddie said, casually, slinging himself off the bike.

Tony was still thrumming from the ride as he joined Eddie at the edge of the cliff, the helmet dangling casually from his fingertips. He looked out over the water. “Nice,” he agreed. He cast a sidelong look at Eddie, who was shuffling around a little, which usually heralded a case of nerves. Tony looked back out at the view, willing to wait for it, whatever it was.

“So, you were dealing with shapeshifting aliens, huh?” Eddie asked. “You ever… deal with any that aren’t bad guys? I mean, not benevolent, or nothing, but maybe, just normal everyday asshole aliens?”

“Oh, sure,” Tony said. “I mean, Thor just for starters, and the rest of the Asgardians. And there’s the Guardians of the Galaxy, they’re an okay bunch, most of the time.”

“So, uh, if I mighta had, well, a close encounter, that’s… it’s not a deal-breaker, you know? With us?” Eddie was wringing his knuckles together hard enough that his skin was white. White, and perfect. Hadn’t… hadn’t Eddie had scars on his hands, from where he’d gotten into a fist-fight with a plate glass window and lost?

“I... wouldn’t think so,” Tony said cautiously. “Who did you run into? The Kree?” They had weird healing abilities, Tony thought.

“They call themselves Klyntar,” Eddie said. “They’re… um. A little difficult to describe, and unfortunately -- oh, would you just--” Eddie’s eyes did something weird, and they were suddenly jet black, sclera, iris, pupil and all. We want to say hello.

Tony didn’t hear that so much with his ears as sort of feel it in his skull, loud and aggressive and eager.

“Oh, shit!” Tony took a step back, startled, then paused and leaned in again, looking closely. “That’s... It’s... In you?”

We are together. One of Eddie’s eyes went back to normal, rich sapphire blue. “Will you let me do th’ talking, Vee, come on, man, we had a plan, can we not just stick to the plan?”

He is very small. That black, almost oily color oozed out from Eddie’s eyes until it covered most of his face, and then-- Eddie grew, tall, taller, impossibly… not quite as tall as the Hulk, but certainly huge, with gnarled, massive limbs and… fucking claws, and goddamn teeth--

Tony flicked his hand to the side and a gauntlet formed. He aimed it at the... thing. Klyntar. Vee. Whatever it was called. “What the fuck-- What did you do to Eddie?”

The enormous clawed hand reached for Tony’s gauntlet. What is it? This-- he? It? Whatever. Grabbed Tony’s wrist and pulled the gauntlet (and Tony practically up onto his toes) up to examine it closely. Is this a weapon?

“Buddy, you’re going to find out just how much of a weapon it is if you don’t let Eddie go,” Tony snapped. He wrenched his arm around until he was aiming right into those dagger-like teeth.

“Woah, woah,” and the face, that monstrous thing, fucking unzipped and Eddie pushed his way out. “No shooting, no… Vee, love, come on, let’s all calm down and talk about this--” Eddie’s shoulders came out of the Klyntar and he balled it up until he was cuddling a little fanged oil slick about the size of a cat. “Let’s just all take a few deep breaths and calm down.”

Eddie demonstrated the calming breaths, sounding like some sort of bad victorian heroine who was about to need a fainting couch.

Tony looked at him dubiously. “You’re okay?” He looked at the thing in Eddie’s arms, and then back at Eddie’s face, suppressing the urge to pat him down and check for injuries. “Jesus Christ, I thought it ate you.”

We wouldn’t eat Eddie, the goo confided. Eddie is ours.

“Tony, this is Venom. Venom, Tony,” Eddie said. “I’d say not to worry, that his bark is worse than his bite, but it’s really, really not.”

“You’re... friends,” Tony said. Venom (and there was a name that didn’t inspire trust) oozed up Eddie’s arm and draped around his neck like a scarf with slitted opal eyes at one end.

The whole thing suddenly seemed utterly absurd, and Tony let out a bark of not-quite-hysterical laughter. “Only you, Eddie. Only you.”

“Unfortunately, not only me,” Eddie said, stroking the little alien gently, and it purred/rumbled under Eddie’s caress. “And, uh, they’re not all as, uh--”

Protective. We will protect Eddie. From Carnage. From Riot. From anyone!

The little alien stretched and snapped like a rubber band, lifting up Eddie’s bike with arms that formed out of nothingness, apparently planning to chuck it in the bay to express its anger.

“Not the bike, Vee!”

Venom hesitated, holding the bike aloft over their heads. Sorry. Venom gently lowered the bike back to the ground and then patted it for good measure.

“...Damn, you’re strong for a little thing,” Tony said.

“So, if… uh, you and Venom are good with getting along, I thought we might do another pub crawl? Venom’s quite the connoisseur of tater tots and french fries?”

“Well. I guess any alien that eats fried potatoes can’t be all bad.”

#starsymbrock #tony/eddie/venom #tony stark #eddie brock #venom #introductions #sarcasm prompts #journeythroughtherain

[hoseokmylovesworld]

Picture of Love | 13 (M)

Pairing: Photographer!Hoseok x OC x Producer!Yoongi

Genre/Warnings: Hoseok AU/Yoongi AU/Includes strong language, hella fluff, hella smut, hella angst, dirty talk, cream pie, mentions of death, mentions of drug use

Words: 9,090

Summary: Charlotte Galloway is the leader of the up and coming girl band, “She-Bang”, with a side hustle as a photographer for anyone who will hire her.  She meets a fellow professional photographer named Jung Hoseok who helps “She-Bang” realize their dreams and Charlotte to make a love connection along the way.

A/N: This one’s ma favorite

Hoseok and I continue this routine, spending huge amounts of time together,  getting to know each other more and more throughout the next three weeks and surprisingly, I wouldn't want it any other way.

We would get ice cream together.

"So, you gonna let me pay for you this time?" J-Hope nagged after ordering  treats at the crowded ice cream parlor.

I laugh fondly at the memory of Jay fighting to pay for my ice cream at this same place and literally swatting my hands and running to pay for macaroons.

"Something tells me you're not gonna give me much of a choice." He chuckles, raising his eyebrows and nodding as if to say 'you thought correctly.' He always pays for the treats and we spend hours being silly and making fun of each other per usual. We visited the parlor so often that we made a deal: we would each try a different flavor with every visit just to switch things up a bit and we were on a first name basis with Gio, the owner of the place. He would always tease us about how cute we were in our "honeymoon" phase, which made me cringe, but filled Jay with pride every time.

Afterward, Jay always seemed to have some activity already picked out, the two of us behaving like a pair of tourists.

We've gone to the Museum of Modern Art, the Asian Art Museum and tried to hit a bunch of other art museums in the Bay area. It was so gratifying to have  someone around who was as interested in art as I was, who could actually have an opinion and hold a discussion about it.

"What do you think about this one?" I ask him as we approach yet another piece, arms linked. He looks it over, pointedly, takes a minute to process his thoughts and turns to me.

"I think it reminds me of you." He shares sincerely. I roll my eyes playfully and decide to humor him. "How so?" I gaze at him, awaiting his answer.

"Well, it's beauty, of course." I snort and nod teasingly. Jay is so smooth, he possesses the power to turn absolutely anything into a compliment.

"I mean, it's breathtaking." He goes on. "But in a mysterious way... It leaves something to be desired. If that makes any sense." He clarified the best  he could.

I nod, trying to understand. "So, you think I'm a mystery?" I question with furrowed brows. "Well, yes." He spoke, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, while I try to figure out whether to be offended or not.

"And I... Leave something to be desired?" I ask with my eyes to the ground in guilt.

I make it a point not to talk about my past or my family, unless absolutely necessary. Whenever the topic arises with J-hope and I, I try to evade it very quickly and it's clear now that he's well aware of this. I feel almost sorry that he has to put up with it, but the past haunts me daily and I'd never want to revisit it.

And when getting to know someone, it helps to actually know them, not just the "mysterious" front they put up to shield themselves from getting hurt the same way again. But it's a defense mechanism that's been my life for as long as I can remember.

Jay catches wind of my concern and tries to back track a bit. "No! No, no, no. You're amazing." He lifts my chin gently and drags my attention to his face.

"Huh, I just put my own foot in my mouth, I didn't mean it that way." I don't even know which way  I meant it.

"You're just a little... Reserved is all. And there's nothing wrong with that."

Great. So I'm not a mysterious vixen, I'm just a frigid bitch.

I nod my head soberly to let him know that I understood, causing him to continue to beat himself up about it.

"I'm sorry, Charlotte. I didn't mean to-"

"No, Jay, it's okay. You're totally right, anyways. It's fine, I promise. I'm okay." I say earnestly. "Let's just continue our date." I try to comfort him. He sighs, happy to hear that my feelings weren't hurt and we moved onto the next piece.

We even swung by places like Golden Gate Park and Muir Woods to hike amongst the Redwood trees.

I realize that, though neither of us are too fond of nature, it's one of my favorite places to be with him. Mainly, because we're   both pussies and we know how to laugh at ourselves.

"Jay! There's a bug!" I shouted, watching a dragonfly land on his shoulder half-way through the trail. He gave a manly shriek and swatted his upper body frantically as I watched on in fear.

"Did I get it?" He spoke wide-eyed, looking around wildly. I couldn't help the giggles that left my mouth at his expense. "Yes." I squeaked, tears coming to my eyes from the laughter.

"Oh, ha ha. It's easy to laugh when there aren't huge dragonflies chasing you." He huffed out a laugh of his own. I bring myself closer to him and wrap my arm around his waist and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder in turn.

"Yeah, I know. It's fun." I rubbed it in his face.

"Well, I would never do that to you." He tries to guilt-trip me. My head immediately snaps to him. "You literally did it like three days ago." I chided him. He cocks his head to the side, thinking back to the incident in question.

"Oh, yeah, I did do that didn't I?" He realizes. "Uh, yeah." I mock in a deep voice, making him laugh. "Well, it won't happen again. I promise." He said sweetly, delivering a kiss to my forehead and then my lips, causing my lips to spread into a megawatt smile and me to swoon briefly. We continue on the trail slowly until J-Hope suddenly pulls away from me with a quickness.

"Charlotte, your arm!" He yells pointing at my right arm. I look down at my right arm in a panic to find some godforsaken insect perched on me. I scream and swat at it furiously. When I finally rid it from my body, I'm heaving with adrenaline and I look up to find Jay struggling to hold in laughter. I sigh loudly with a whisper of a smile on my face.

"What happened to 'it won't happen again', huh? You promised." I confront him, slapping his arm playfully.

"Yeah, I think I mighta gone too far with the whole promising business." He waves his hand as if to do away with the idea and my jaw drops at his bluntness. He eagerly wraps an arm around me and assures me that he's kidding and we finally completed our hike.

Hoseok even bothered to make it to the She-Bang gigs and always showed his support.

The people at the Temple nightclub were so full of life, but glancing out at the crowd to see J-Hope among them, watching with such admiration, topped playing for any audience. For once in my life, I took pleasure in singing to someone instead of singing at them and Hoseok was the reason for that.

"You guys were great Charlotte." Hoseok approaches me, wrapping me in his arms and kissing me on the cheek swiftly after we finish the set. I pull away from the warm embrace, enough to plant an innocent kiss on his perfect lips which quickly turned wanton and had each of us breathing heavily.

"You know, you don't have to tell me that every time." I say, my hands busy caressing the hair at the nape of his neck, his gripping my waist gingerly.

"Don't I though? I mean you're always so amazing, I feel like I have to." He said easily, staring into my eyes causing my insides to turn to mush. "You're too sweet." I pecked his lips and we sway to the music, one of the many things that have become natural for the two of us in the month and a half since we met.

We've grown incredibly close in such a short amount of time that it literally blows my mind. I never let people in, let alone make strong bonds with them and somehow I  was the one to approach Hoseok and I'm so glad I did. He drew me to him from the very beginning and I haven't been able to resist him since. But all the while, in the back of my head is the concern that things are definitely moving too fast. Or at least faster than I'm used to.

And I can't tell if I should take it as a good omen, that things are just going smoothly or that everything is going to blow up in my face when the whole "girlfriend" question comes up. We still haven't discussed my aversion to the word or my past in depth. I all but freeze up whenever the topic of family or past relationships come up in conversation, sharing only tidbits of the memories that cause me discomfort and deal with silently on my own.

And whenever I cave in on myself J-Hope is always there to squeeze my hand or kiss me and bring me back. Because he knows I'm broken, but he won't risk making me uncomfortable for the sake of knowing me on a deeper level and I almost wish he would. I desperately want to be able to share everything freely with him as he shares so much with me, I feel like I'm not pulling my weight in this relationship.

"Hey, Charlotte. You okay?" Jay hooks his fingers under my chin and gently pulled up so that my gaze was now on his curious face and not on the dance floor.

Right on time. J-Hope to the rescue.

I smile tepidly. "Why do you put up with me?" The words escape my insolent mouth without my permission. My eyes widen at my own bold statement, but I realize I'm actually desperate for an answer, I need one.

"What?" J-Hope's brows furrow, his eyes narrow curiously and his head cocks to the side. I was quick to reply, just looking for validation at this point and a sign that I wasn't wasting both our time.

"Why do you want me?" I pull him closer than the PG distance we've kept before and look him in the eye earnestly, letting him know I was looking for a serious answer that would hopefully give me the solace I was looking for.

He looks me over, still quite thrown off by the question, but gives an honest answer that makes me weak.

"Because...you make me happy." He says without a flicker of doubt in his voice or in his face, staring into my eyes fervently. I throw my body into his without warning and bury my face in his neck to hide whatever dumbfounded expression was on it. He immediately returned the strength of my embrace which gave me even more confidence.

This was the affirmation, the push I needed. It's easier said than done, but I will do what it takes to tear down this wall that is keeping me from being with J-Hope like I want to.

"You make me happy too Jay." I utter in his ear. "I want you too...You have to know that." I admit, trying to communicate that I wanted him as much as he wanted me, I just struggle to show it.

"I do now." He responded, a smile in his voice. He partially released me from our embrace to look me over again. "I should get you home now." He decided, looking over my shoulder to see where the rest of the band are stationed.

"No, let's go to yours." I rest my palms on either side of his face, sporting a familiar look of hunger. All this confessing has made me super needy. He recognizes it instantly and smirked down at me. "Sure thing, babe."

Finally, the best part of spending my days with Hoseok for these bliss-filled three weeks was what came at the end of each day. The mind-blowing sex.

Currently, I was caressing J-Hope's tongue with my own, while being held up against the stainless steel wall of the elevator of Nob Hill Place on it's way up to J-Hope's apartment. He took all of my weight, each of his hands clutching my ass firmly, my legs wrapped snugly around his toned waist as he made his way to the apartment door. He struggled slightly with sticking the key in the door and taking my weight. I pause sucking on his neck to offer a solution.

"I could just hop down, you know?" I chuckle in his ear. "Don't you dare." Is his reply as he finally gets the door to swing open.

He continued to kiss me, shutting the door behind him with his foot and carried me to the kitchen. He sat me on the edge of the counter of the island with his body snug in between my legs that were on two kitchen stools, no space left between us. I ripped my leather jacket off of my heated body and flung it across the room and J-Hope did the same with his, our lips never leaving the other's skin. That is until he removed my t-shirt, which was barely a shirt to begin with as it had an insane amount of holes to show off my lacey black bra.

J-Hope teased my nipples through my bra with his fingers whilst sucking on my neck, shoulder and chest making me gasp. As he worked my chest with one hand, the other was on my back making sure I didn't lose my balance and that he could grind steadily into my core all the while.

I was already a moaning mess when he switched positions, his mouth travelling to my breasts and his hand travelling down my stomach. I whimpered at the loss of contact when he separated his hips from mine, but he soon replaced them when he lifted my skirt, making figure eights against my clit, over my damp underwear with his fingers. I keen with pleasure at all of the stimulation and just sit back and enjoy.

"Take these off." He ordered breathlessly, tapping my pussy so I knew he meant my underwear. I untangle myself from him and lean back on the island so that I can remove my panties and I chuck those into the unknown as well. Finding my wardrobe is gonna be fun later. We resume our previous position and I spread my legs even wider for J-Hope as he collects arousal from my entrance and continued to apply pressure to my clit in circular motions. I gasp at the contact and J-Hope takes the opportunity to capture my lips in a sloppy kiss. It's like he's everywhere at once and my body can't get enough of him.

He teases at my entrance once more and groans against my mouth. "God, you're so wet."

I giggle before replying honestly, "I'm always wet for you." in a seductive whisper. I look him in the eyes wantonly as I take his wrist and guide his fingers inside of me. My eyes flutter shut as he thrusts one finger into me and then another. All I could hear was my heavy breathing and the wet sounds of his sinful fingers thrusting in and out of my pussy.  

"Such a dirty girl." I swallowed thickly as his breath tickled my ear before sucking the lobe of it into his mouth skillfully. "So wet for me, taking my fingers so easily into that perfect little pussy of yours." He continued, sending shivers down my spine and more wetness oozing out of my entrance at his lewd words.

"I wonder if it can take my dick this easily." I moan at the mere thought. We both know it can, I go to say.

But I can't respond as my back suddenly arches into him and my breath hitches once he enters a third finger into the race, curling them to hit my g-spot head on, filling me up so deliciously all at once. My hole clenched around his fingers hungrily, the sweet friction it created causing me to lose my balance slightly. J-Hope didn't mind, he actually preferred it.

"Just lean back, baby." He soothed, removing his hand from my back. I did as I was told immediately, my back coming in contact with the cold marble, causing me to hiss slightly. He didn't waste any time, pulling up a kitchen stool so that he would be seated right in front of my pussy, never bothering to remove his fingers from me, thankfully. He pulled my right leg over his shoulder so that I wouldn't be uncomfortable after he stole my footrest and began kissing down my thigh, making me squirm in anticipation.

Finally, he parted my lips and began lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. I shudder, instinctively threading my fingers in his silky hair and my back lurches off the counter. "Oh, yes, Hoseok...please." Pleased with himself, he hummed against my clit and increased the speed of his fingers thrusting away inside me. His other hand raking up and down my stomach and playing with my chest, leaving scorch marks wherever they went. My entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames with the amount of pleasure coursing through it. The fire took its place inside of me, pooling in my lower abdomen like fireworks ready to explode. I found J-Hope's hand and threaded our fingers together, while the hand in his hair gripped tighter.

"Hoseok, I'm gonna cum." I choked out in gasps. "Mmhmm." was his response as he sucked on my clit, his wrist moving in a blur like his life depended on it. My back arches and my eyes roll back as the tightly coiled spring inside me had suddenly released, sending my body into shock waves of pleasure.

My walls pulse wildly around Hoseok's fingers, that are working me through my orgasm diligently. I go limp from the intense explosion of pleasure, twitching occasionally, still receiving waves of my orgasm thanks to a hard working Hoseok. I resist overstimulation, by reaching down and halting his actions. He gets the message and leaves lingering kisses on my thighs and gives the same treatment to my stomach as he makes his way up my spent body.

He finds my face, delivering kisses all over it. I finally opened my eyes to see the white spots in my vision clearing up and a happy J-Hope. I grab his face and kiss him hard, that same fire from before travelling through both of us, he returns the kiss with the same amount of adoration. I'm finally able to catch my breath and break the silence. "Thank you." I whisper, still kissing him.

"You don't have to tell me that everytime, you know." He jokes, repeating my words from earlier.  "I think I do." I reply easily.

"It's not like I'm doing you any favors." He says matter-of-factly, pressing his hips to my core once again, letting me feel his boner through his pants, conveying that pleasuring me does something for him as well.

Of course it does. The saint.

I find the strength to sit up and wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him with a newfound intensity. "Let's do something about that then, shall we?" He doesn't miss a beat, picking me up and carrying me to his room. He approached the bed backwards, sitting at the foot of the bed with me now sat in his lap. I grinded down on him and lick my way into his mouth, my juices coating his dress pants and offering delectable friction against my clit. He reciprocates every single one of my actions and lifts my skirt to grope my bare ass.

"Go to the headboard." I rasped out, he doesn't hesitate to do as I say and crawls his way backwards to the head of the bed, his back to the headboard. I remove my bra and skirt so that I'm finally fully exposed and Hoseok takes this a sign to do the same. He hurriedly removes his shirt and bottoms and throws them off the bed. I crawl on my hands and knees in between his legs and lie down on my stomach when I reach my destination. My nails trail up and down his thighs, over his briefs to message his dick, causing him to groan.

I take a hold of his waistband and tug, not wanting to wait just as much as he didn't. He lifts his hips off the bed and I pull them off the rest of the way to toss them behind me. There is already a good amount of pre-come collected around the tip, just as J-Hope suggested. I take hold of his fully hard cock and spread it around even more as I stroke it from the base to the tip a few times before taking the tip into my mouth.

J-Hope gasps followed by a groan of bliss, melting into the bed. He buries his fingers in my curls, staring as I take him to the back of my throat. I stare right back, making him throw his head back in satisfaction.

"You're so fucking sexy." He moans freely.

I hollow my cheeks and bob my head up and down on his cock a few more times before I grow impatient. I release his cock from my mouth and make sure it's nice and lubricated before I place myself in his lap once again.

I run his dick through my folds back and forth, listening to J-Hope's precious whines. I allow his tip to breach my entrance and prepare to take him all the way when he stops me.

"Wait," He grips my hand that's gripping his dick. "No condom?" He gives a very confused yet somehow giddy expression. I just giggled at him as he looked on in bewilderment, thinking I'm some kind of crazy person.

"I've been on the pill for as long as I can remember. Plus I'm clean, and you're clean...right?" I gaze at him from under my lashes, expectantly. "Yes, of course." He answers in a hurry.

"Then we're fine...I trust you." I all but purred, kissing him gently. That's the first time I've said that to him and I meant it with every fiber of my being.

I insert his cock again and sink down on it inch by inch, eliciting a breathless groan from each of us at the new feeling. I don't move immediately, genuinely just enjoying the feeling of him inside of me. Nothing separating us. Hoseok seemed to be really enjoying it as well, his eyes closed, his breathes long and heavy. I wrap my arms around his neck and give him another sloppy kiss full of fondness and admiration that I hope he felt. I start to grind my hips back and forth, slow and hard, whimpering into his mouth.

J-Hope took my hips in his hands wantonly, helping me grind even harder and faster, setting an exquisite rhythm. Needing to breathe, we broke the kiss and were now breathing in each other's air with our foreheads pressed together. After a while I broke the rhythm of our thrusts and began to move up and down instead, guessing by J-Hope's downward gaze that he was now watching his dick disappear inside me.

This offered another equally delectable angle where J-Hope would hit my g-spot 9 times out of 10 and I ended up a panting mess. We each started to work up a sweat my thighs beginning to burn and slow me down. J-Hope would have none of that as he gripped my waist roughly, forcing me up and down on his cock.

Each thrust delving deeper and deeper inside of me, I could feel every inch of him sliding in and out of me easily.

"Mmm, keep fucking me like that!...Yes, right there baby." I growled up at the ceiling as he hit that spot over and over again, causing me to see stars.

J-Hope picks up the pace for the both of us, coming closer to his climax, my breasts bouncing on display for him. My walls clench around him with gratitude and I moan loudly at the change of speed. Our bodies ended up moving down the bed so that Hoseok was on his back and I was properly riding him, arching my back and slamming my ass down to meet his thrusts and gaining a lovely friction on clit from his pubic bone. I bend down and suck on the flesh connecting his shoulder and his neck that is covered in a mouthwatering sheen of sweat.

"Fuck, Charlotte. You're gonna make me cum." He husked into my ear, the sexy sound going straight to my pussy that was gripping Hoseok's dick for dear life. My orgasm quickly building up inside me with a fierceness, ready to send me flying at any moment.

"Yes, please, Hoseok. Please cum inside me." I mewled into his neck like a needy child.

"Are you sure?" He sputtered out as if we even had a choice, he was so close already. Fucking up into me on top of me fucking down onto him, our rhythm a bit out of sync, but still pleasuring the other to no end.

"Yes! I want you to come inside me. Want you to fill me up with it." I whimpered desperately, my lips up against his ear. "I want you to shoot your load inside me and keep it in me for as long as I can until it just spills out of me." My legs begin to shake with pleasure as I feel my orgasm approaching and Hoseok's dick pulsating inside of me, ready to give me what I want, but he seems to be holding back for some reason. That reason is made clear when he whispers: "Keep talking." in a heady, carnal voice that made me moan deeply. 

It gives me the motivation to stave off my orgasm as well and enjoy the moment. I slow down my thrusts and grind down on him harshly, earning myself a beautifully, sexy growl from Hoseok. But he never protested so I continued to have my fun.

"I want you to fill me up with your cum so it's spilling out of me, running down my thighs and makin' a mess that I can lick off of my fingers later." I pull back slightly to demonstrate, stuffing my fingers in my mouth, lightly gagging myself with them to create saliva on my fingers that I bring down to rub my clit with all while making eye contact with Hoseok. He looks at me like I'm the devil tempting him to sin. "Fuck." He cursed under his breath. I bend back down to spew more devilish things in his ear, wondering how long each of us can last.

"Would you like that? Watching me lick your cum off my body? Or me taking it from my pussy to swallow down my throat like you came in there too? You've cum down my throat so many times, but this is different, baby." I speed up my thrusts again and so does Hoseok neither of us being able to hold on anymore.

"I want it, please gimme your cum, Hobi." He moans at the nickname. "I need it inside me, you just have to give it to me. You're being so good, lemme reward you. Cum in me 'cause you can...that's it, baby...Ugh, yeah, that's it!"

Hoseok sped up his thrusts, fucking up into me like a man possessed. And suddenly I was pinned to the opposite side of the bed, Hoseok gripping my hips roughly and pounding me into the bed without a care in the world. He finally came inside, his cock pulsating wildly, sending spurts of hot cum inside me, jolting me into my own mind-shattering orgasm.

All the built up tension releasing inside of me, dissolving into utter pleasure. As my body freezes and time stands still, I feel my pussy throb lusciously around his cock as countless waves of pleasure rocked through me. My eyes saw nothing, but hot, white light and everything seemed to disappear, there was only white noise and the intense pleasure that surrounded me.

This one seemed to last longer than normal and as Hoseok grew tired I had to beg him: "Please don't stop fucking me, don't stop fucking me, don't stop fucking me, don't stop fucking me." I chanted, near the point of crying from sheer euphoria. Thankfully he didn't stop, ever the dedicated lover, and my mind turned to mush for what felt like forever.

I couldn't tell when it all ended, but I regained my vision and was made very aware of my worn out, sore body. But my stomach wouldn't stop flexing, my body would twitch constantly and my pussy was continually clenching around Hoseok's cock, who I realize was kissing my neck. I turn my head to get his attention and he looks up immediately. We share a tender look before he gives me a long, passionate kiss.

He looks at me with a fondness when we separate that makes my heart race. "That was incredible." I say, still coming down. "You're tellin' me." he pecks my face repeatedly as he pulls out and I figured although it was the heat of the moment I'd keep my promises. I reach between my legs and collect any cum that spilled out and sucked my fingers into my mouth making seductive eye contact with Hoseok.

"You are something else, you know that?" He looked down at me genuinely impressed and...thankful?

"Of course I do. Now carry me to the shower, I'm not gonna make it by myself." He laughed, but followed through.

I don't know why or how, but I ended up letting Hoseok fuck me again in the shower. As if I didn't get enough the last two times.

His hand snaked it's way around my waist and caressed my stomach before making it's way to core.  I'm helpless to stop him, a victim of my own want for him. I continue to scrub my upper body as if he wasn't trying to kill me.

As I stood there choking on my own breath, my knees nearly giving out repeatedly, I doubt whether my body can take another orgasm so soon. "Hoseok, I-I don't know if I can-." Is all I can get out when he suddenly pressed my body up against the tile, my hands resting on it next to my head.

His lips were at my ear and his erection pressed against my ass along with his calloused hand working tireless circles into my sensitive clit. "You can take one more can't you?" His husky voice rasped into my ear. I was growing weaker by the second. I find myself nodding eagerly, sighing with need. "Say it. I wanna hear you." His sexy whispers fading into the spray of the water from the shower.

"I can take it." I convince myself breathlessly as he lines himself up with my entrance and graces my needy ears with those magical words. "That's a good girl." My eyes flutter shut and I open my mouth to release a silent scream when he pushes his cock into me in one swift motion.

My nails scratch at the tile as he grips my hips roughly and forcing my hips to collide with his at a quick pace. The sound of heavy breathing and intense slapping filled the air. "Ffffff-uck, yes, Hoseok." I hiss through clenched teeth. "Oh my fuckin' God, you fuck me so good."

He laughs raggedly. "You're Goddamn right." He gives up rubbing my clit to wrap his hand around my neck and squeezes gently, sending wetness rushing down my legs. A kink that we haven't explored, but one I enjoyed immensely. I even rest my hand over his and apply more pressure. He gets the message and squeezes harder, still allowing me to breathe while I rub harshly at my clit, feeling my orgasm approaching quickly. I was so sensitive I didn't need much attention to get aroused and I don't need much to get off and with Hoseok hitting my g-spot like he was, I was a goner.

"Oh my fuck-I'm cumming. Please don't fucking stop!" I gasp out through the strong hand choking me so deliciously. I arch my back into the shower wall, causing Hoseok's hand to pull my head back so that it's resting on his shoulder and he looks down at me as we watch each other come apart. I'm blinded by that rewarding white light as I'm pushed over the edge for the third time tonight, falling into an abyss of pleasure.

"Fuck! You're such a good girl Charlotte. Can I cum inside you again, baby?" He voice was rough and dark,  ready to snap at any moment. I nod frantically and mumble pleadingly.

"Yes! Please fill me up again, Hobi-Ugh!" I let out a scream/growl that echoed off the shower walls as I felt his cum fill me up in bursts, adding to my crippling orgasm. I was being shocked into silence as electricity sparked my entire body with lightning rods of pleasure. Hoseok's thrusts became sporadic, but just as forceful, sending lingering ripples of my orgasm through me as we both came down.

When he finally stilled his hips, his cock still buried within me, he removed his hand from my neck and took hold of my jaw instead, directing my face to his lips and devouring mine. I coughed when he released me, getting used to be breathing normally again. He pulled out of me and turned me around.

"Are you okay? Was it too much?" He fretted, studying my throat. "It was amazing. Don't you worry." I assure him, giving him a kiss of my own. "One of these days you're gonna fuck me to death." I laugh breathlessly. He makes a face as if he's fascinated by the idea and then bothered by it and then fascinated again. "I don't really know how to respond to that." He settled, making both of us laugh out loud.

I let him clean me up because I was too spent to clean myself after that and he carried me right back to the bed. Hoseok offered me an oversized t-shirt and some boxers of his. I didn't plan on falling asleep entirely because then I wouldn't be able to make my nightly get away that Hoseok always yells at me about the next morning. But after tonight's events, I had no choice, but to let Hoseok wrap me in his warm arms and drift away.

I wake up on my side, on the right side of the bed facing the bathroom with a sleeping Hoseok spooning me from behind. Each of his arms wrapped around my middle completely. I sigh contently before shifting to look at the window. It is still dark, the sky, a black sea, letting the San Francisco skyline light up the city for it.

Drawing my gaze lower to the alarm clock on the nightstand, I can see that it is 3:03 AM. Still time to catch a reasonably priced Uber home.

I gently take hold of Hoseok's hand attempt to unwrap it from my waist when his groggy voice travels to my ears.

"Where you off to now?" He suddenly questions, making me jump and then freeze in his arms.

"Uh, the hotel. The girls need me back for...something." Smooth.

"Oh?" He asks softly, unmoving.

"Um, yeah, they texted my phone." I rattle off the excuse without thinking.

"You mean your phone that's still in the kitchen?" He deadpans. Shit.

"Huh, um, yeah-" I cut myself off when his lips find my neck yet again and disrupt my train of thought.

"Look, whatever's going on in that pretty little head of yours, you can tell me...or don't...I just wish you would choose to stay here tonight. You did say next time. You've been saying that for weeks now...And I can make you whatever you want for breakfast...Please?" He pleads, laying it on very thick. His deep, raspy, voice mixed with the puppy dog eyes he cast down on me left me choice. I had to stay, anxieties be damned, I made a commitment to do whatever it takes to actually be with J-Hope. Even if it does seem impossible. I just wanted to please him in that moment and finally experience this for myself.

"Okay...Okay, I'll stay." I give him a peck on the lips to seal the deal and he smiles with pride. "Thank you."

"I'm just gonna text the girls, if that's alright."

"Of course." He replies without skipping a beat.

I leave the warmth of his bed to find my jacket and phone in the kitchen. It landed in the back on the floor. I fish my phone out of the pocket to find an onslaught of worried text messages from the She-Bang group chat, a few from Kyle and one missed call from Darren. I sent them a text back letting them know I would be staying with J-Hope tonight, I tell Kyle that I'm sorry for the scare, but not to wait up and I don't tell Darren anything. 

I almost feel bad for doing so, but even though it's almost been a month since our argument, we still haven't completely patched things up and I don't feel comfortable telling him where I'll be tonight and I don't want to lie to him. He'll most-likely find out from the rest of the group anyway.

Immediately I receive two good luck texts from Vicky and Carrie and one text that reads "Don't fuck it up....Good luck." from Leyah.

I shake my head and make my way back to Jay's room where he's sitting up shirtless in bed, reading something on his phone. "Hey." I utter, causing him to look up.

"Hey." He beams, putting his phone on a charger before offering me one and motioning for me get under the covers. Here goes nothing.

I climb on the bed and slide under the covers towards a waiting J-Hope who was ready to wrap his arms around me at a moment's notice. Tucking my body into his, I rest my head on his chest, his chin resting on my head. I just lie there still, eyes wandering, not really knowing what to do, still feeling a bit out of place. It's one thing to fall asleep with someone, it's another to go to sleep with them.

"You've never done this before have you?" Hoseok suddenly speaks, gauging my awkwardness. I laugh bitterly.

"Hah, yes, I have...It's just been a while." He hums in understanding, his chest vibrating against my cheek.

"Well, just relax. I'm here." He assures, tightening his grip on me, somehow bringing more comfort. I take the advice and take a deep breath. My muscles untense with the exhale and I feel lighter. "Thanks, Jay." I whisper.

"Anytime, Charlotte...Hey, where did Hobi come from?" He blurts out as if he'd been pondering it since he heard it first.

"I have no idea." I answer, my shoulders shaking with embarrassed laughter.

"Hm. Wherever it came from, you should call me that more often." He hums pleasantly.

"Deal...As long as you call me 'your dirty girl' more often." I bargain sheepishly, my face delving deeper into the crook of his neck.

"Oh, you got yourself a deal, babe." He plants a kiss in my mess of curls and I feel my eyes flutter shut once again.

+++++++++++++++++

The next morning, I'm automatically missing the presents of J-Hope's body next to mine. Then my nostrils are made aware of the mouth watering scent of, what I assume to be, pancakes, bacon and...eggs. I stretch out on the bed similar to how a cat would and make my way to the kitchen where I find J-Hope working his way around in only sweatpants. Good lord.

"Morning." I made my presence known, entering the kitchen and approaching his toned body. I hugged him behind, wrapping my arms around his middle and squeezing lightly. I'd always wanted to do that.

"Uh, it's noon, sunshine." he laughed as he flipped yet another pancake. There were like 15 of them piled high on a serving plate on the counter and numerous strips of bacon and eggs next to that. I just ignore his tiny dig and prove him wrong.

"No, I think you're the sunshine in this scenario." I come to stand next to him and watch him give a cheeky smile at my words. I'm guessing he couldn't come up with a witty comeback so he just bent down to kiss me warmly. I could get used to this.

"How did you sleep?" He asked, focusing back on his flipping and I make myself comfortable on a nearby stool. "Like a rock." I realize, aloud. I didn't have any dreams of any kind, I didn't stir whatsoever and I feel refreshed. That doesn't happen to me. "I haven't slept that well in a long time, actually." I share another epiphany.

J-Hope looks over his shoulder at me knowingly, almost as if he were saying "I told you so." with his eyes.

"Oh, shut up. That has nothing to do with me staying over here." I argue immediately knowing that it was a lie, I was just too stubborn to admit it.

"I didn't say anything." He chuckles innocently. I watch as he pour more whipped eggs into another pan on the stove. "You don't have to make too many eggs-" I go to warn him so that he wouldn't waste food.

"I know, you don't like them. I always make a shit ton of breakfast food to have left over." He explains.

"Okay, good. I've just hated them since I was a kid and sometimes I can't even stand the smell, it's crazy." I continue for no real reason, causing Hoseok to freeze with concern.

"Are you gonna be okay, or...?" He asks, pointing at the eggs. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm not allergic, just petty." I shrug.

"Cool. You know, I used to hate pickles with a passion growing up." He shares with his back slightly to me, stirring the eggs. I gasp.

"No! But pickles are so good!" I argue. "I know that now." He laughed. "Took some convincing though...and a lot of time. I used to just eat japchae in Korea. It's my favorite." Jay and I continue to discuss our favorite and least favorite foods as kids and how our habits have changed as he finished cooking and eventually served breakfast.

"Yeah, Maeve and I used to put ketchup on everything. It was gross, honestly." I laugh, reminiscing about the childhood I usually try so hard to suppress. And just like clock work, my smile fades as I'm reminded of the poor parts of that childhood and being ripped away from my best friend years ago.

"Your cousin, right?" I wince as Hoseok tears me away from my thoughts. "Hm? Yeah." I answer absentmindedly, no longer interested in the food on my plate. I push it around with a fork as Hoseok tries to engage me again. "You two were really close, right?" He continues, trying to carry a light conversation that was only making things worse.

I stare at the counter, trying to think of something, anything other than what we were discussing. "Yeah. Yeah, we were."

"We were like sisters." I utter without meaning to, words falling from my lips without permission. He nods at the statement. "Me and Dawon used to go to the Rockefeller Centre in New York in the winter time and ice skate." I smile at his memory until he brings the conversation back to me. "You and Maeve ever go to like, SeaWorld in San Diego or anything like that?"

I think back on all the trips Maeve and I actually took together. We went skinny dipping in the lake plenty of times, snuck into the surrounding country clubs to play pranks on the rich people, club hopping with our fake IDs. Almost all of them ended in run ins with the cops, but they were some of my fondest memories. No trips to SeaWorld or the San Diego Zoo existed for me or my family.

"No." I said curtly. He made a surprised face and took a moment before asking his next question. "Did your parents ever take you?" He knew he was taking a risk asking about my parents, I can tell by his teeth that begin to worry his lip immediately like he does when he gets nervous and his eyes that search my face for any signs of stress. He knows very well that they are a sore topic.

I can't begin to imagine why he would bring them up knowing this information, but I have a hard time trying to blame him or even be slightly upset at him for wanting to know more about the woman he's seeing. "No." I shake my head still looking down at my long forgotten breakfast. "We didn't really go many places with my parents." I said solemnly, hating not being able to control the situation.

"Oh...Why?" He was genuinely curious. Shocked that I actually answered a question about my parents, probably trying to see how far he can push it.

I actually thought the question over in my head, instead of just deflecting it like I always do. "We just didn't like to." I shrugged. "We didn't really get along...with them. It was always just the two of us."

"Hm, does that mean you lived together?" His tone was soothing, his eyes still searching mine for signs of retreat. I found myself being able to answer him easier after taking that first step.

"Yeah. My parents adopted Maeve after my aunt and uncle died in a car accident. She was 9 and I was 7." I say emotionlessly, still able to remember when she moved all her stuff into our house. Sharing a room until we grew sick of being on top of each other and my parents renovated the attic for her.

"I'm sorry." I see J-Hope's hand slide across the counter to cover mine. I let my eyes drift up to his which are filled with pity and it makes sick. I moved out of La Mesa to escape looks like those. "Thanks." I mutter removing my hand from his grip to throw my food away and clean my dish in the sink. I feel his presence behind me and then his strong hands resting on my shoulders, massaging gently.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." He apologizes softly. All I can do is laugh bitterly because he thinks this is me shutting down, on overload from pushing myself to answer his questions. Not yet. He feels bad (per usual) for making the broken girl feel more broken.

And in that moment, something snaps inside me. I made a promise to fight for what I have with J-Hope and before I know it, I'm spinning around in his arms and the words just go flying from my mouth.

"My middle name is Avery and I hate it." Hoseok looks confused yet please with this new information. "Okay, it sounds pretty to me." He shrugs with a smile. I ignore the compliment and take a deep breath. I'm gonna have to dig a whole lot deeper than middle names to make this mean something.

"I was born and raised in La Mesa, San Diego. My mother's name is Tanya, my father's name is Chris...I don't like them, they're cunts." I share calmly, making J-Hope flinch that I could talk about my parents in such a way.

"They didn't know how to handle their daughter being 'different'. So,  they sent me away to some boarding school when I was 10." The first time they separated me from me from my best friend.

"I got kicked out of course and so they had to deal with me...when they sent Maeve to rehab they said it was my fault. That I got her mixed up in that stuff. I was only 14." The second time they separated us.

My voice wavered and cracked around the edges, tears burning the back of my eyes. I could no longer look at J-Hope too embarrassed for him to see me like this. "Hey," He bends down into my line of sight to get my attention. "You don't have to." He appeased, stroking my face. "It's okay, you can stop, I get it." No, you don't.

I don't allow myself to stop, ignoring his discouragements, I go on. "They always preferred Maeve to me, even before they adopted her, but I never held it against her...I haven't seen my parents since...since they kicked me out when I turned 18." The third and final time I was separated from my bestfriend.

"I was in an 'unsavory relationship' they claimed." I made air quotes with my hand while the other held me weight against the counter. "We started dating when I was 16 and he was 20." I could see J-Hope's eyes widen in my peripheral, but he just waited patiently for me to finish.

"They had been trying to get rid of me for years and when I became legal they didn't waste any time." I grimace at the carelessness displayed when they told me to pack my belongings and get out. Of course, they waited for a time when Maeve and I were actually apart and then attacked.

"So, I moved to L.A. with my ex-boyfriend." I still wasn't able to say his name aloud. "My parents cut me off from Maeve completely as soon as I crossed the threshold. She still lived at home and was still being controlled by them. I regretted leaving her behind and so a year later I went back to La Mesa to hopefully bring her back with me, but when I asked about her at one of the bars we frequented the-they told me...they told me she had..." I can no longer hold back the tears when I actually allow myself think about the time I wasted not going back for her when I should have and coming back home to find out that she had passed.

J-Hope pulled me into him and quickly wrapped his arms around me, my face now covered in tears against his bare chest. "It's okay, it's gonna be okay. I've got you." He repeated, planting kisses in my hair. Even in a mess of tears I couldn't stop myself from continuing, it's like my mind was forcing me to tell the story as some kind of therapy for never uttering these words to anyone but the girls before. I felt the weight being lifted off my shoulders with every sentence.

"They said she had overdosed less than a week before I returned." I sniffle, getting my breathing back under control. "It was like I felt it, like I knew she was gone...and I had to see for myself...but I was too late." Jay shakes his head on top of mine and I can tell he desperately wants to say something, but holds back.

I separate myself from him for both our sakes and lean against the counter once more. He moves with me, hands on my waist, eyes on me at all times.

"My ex-boyfriend left me three years later...and I was back to being alone again." J-Hope's face contorts with something akin to shock once he does the math in his head. Yoongi and I were indeed together for 6 years. My first and last real relationship lasted 6 years. Even I can't believe it sometimes.

"I met the girls that same year and never looked back...but it really fucked me up." I reach up to cup J-Hope's cheek, he automatically leans into my touch and looks into my eyes with some kind of new found respect. The pity still deep rooted in his gaze, but who wouldn't pity someone after that?

"I really like you Hoseok and I wanna make this work, but there is just so much you don't know." He furrows his brows and grips my hand that is cupping his face and strokes it comfortingly. "So, tell me." He pleads, a desperate look in his eyes. "Tell me anything." I sigh before my brain rattles off the things I want him to know. That I need him to know.

"I've done some questionable things for money...and am still somehow a spoiled brat, I have commitment issues-fuck I've got a shit ton of issues. Trust issues, intimacy issues, anxiety. My ex fucked me up so bad I stopped believing in love." He winced at that fact, but it's about time he heard it. If this is what sends us going our separate ways, I'll be destroyed, but happy that he might find love with someone else who can fully reciprocate.

"The word girlfriend gives me nausea. You’re the only person I let call me by my full name. You're the first person I've had sex with that I've felt anything for since him. My biggest fear is going to jail, after that it's dying alone and I really thought that was gonna be me for a long time...until I met you. You're so fucking beautiful, Hoseok. You're strong and brave enough for the both of us and I can't thank you enough for putting up with me. And if you want nothing to do with me from now on I’ll understand...I'm sorry I can't be everything you want." I became a blubbering mess back in J-Hope's arms by the end of my speech. 

"Oh, Charlotte." He started as if he were scolding me. "You're already everything I want." His kind words just cause me sob harder into his strong chest.

"I don't deserve you." I whisper the familiar words to him for the first time.

"That's not true. We deserve each other." I just shake my head, knowing that I will forever disagree with his words.

#j-hope fanfic #suga fanfic #junghoseok #junghoseok fan fic #minyoongi #minyoongi fanfic #bts #bts fanfction #btssmut #smut #j-hopesmut #j-hopefluff #ambw #kpop #humor #sugardaddyj-hope #j-hope au #j-hopexOC

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Of Farms Fairs And Fame (Part 11)

He was disappointed. She knew that he would be. She held Spade close to her chest. Azula speculated that her father was going to bar her from seeing Sokka until she wrote a song and performed it. He hadn’t said anything yet, but then, she’d been avoiding him altogether. A part of her hoped that he would tell her that she couldn’t see Sokka anymore, it would save her the confusion. It would save her from having to talk to the boy about why she went and kissed him. She laid back onto the mattress and let Spade wander off. Evidently the piglet decided not to wander very far and instead made himself comfy just below Azula’s chest.

Why’d Sokka have to go and by her the piglet?

Why’d he have to go and comfort her?

It would have been so much easier to push feelings to the side if he were a mean and cold sort. If he were walled off and hard to read. If he was like her.

But he wasn’t. The fact of the matter was that he had always been very good to her. Good to the point things...where feelings had such a large chance to grown and manifest whether she wanted them to or not. Azula slung an arm over her eyes as if that would keep her from seeing her own truths.

She didn’t like thinking about them.

So she wouldn’t.

She made her way, as quietly as possible, down the stairs. But she wasn’t going to get by easily, her father was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee a cigar, and a newspaper that he was only half paying attention to. “I hear that yer friend’s family won this year.”

“He did.” Azula confirmed.

“I do hope he gave you some credit fer that.” Ozai muttered. “I think you put more effort into helpin’ him win than into helpin’ yerself.”

Azula swallowed. Perhaps she had, but it certainly didn’t help that TyLee had, had another accident. One that was, once again, entirely her fault for encouraging the girl to push herself. Just like their mom was dead because of her.

“You will have a song, eventually?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a song…”

“I expect one in three days.” He slid the newspaper over to her. “I were listein’ to the radio ‘n found out that they’re holdin’ a competition.” He paused. “A whole day of lettin’ aspirin’ artists have a chance to show off.”

“I’ll have a song.” She replied. She couldn’t disappoint him a second time. Losing her composure once was pushing it. He had high expectations for her and she wasn’t meeting them. She wasn’t even meeting her own.

She had a hand on the doorknob when her father looked up again. “Where are you goin’ to?”

“I wanted to check on TyLee.”

“You have an hour. Then you git on home and git to writin’.”

Azula nodded. She didn’t want to find herself on the receiving end of his belt. Granted he’d only used it once. Once when Ursa died and something in him broke. Once when he howled and raved about how the both of them, she and Zuko, and driven the woman to her death. Only once, but it was still a fear that lingered in the back of her mind.

A memory that refused to leave, of a time when the two of them had been sent to live with their uncle while their father was institutionalized. He wasn’t the same after that. He didn’t talk to them as much, perhaps he was ashamed.

Perhaps he knew that neither of them had forgotten. Heaven knew that he had trouble looking at Zuko, at the scar slashed by his eye.

Azula so terribly missed the man who would join them for cookouts, the man who would host them. “I’ll be home.” She muttered.

He gave a firm nod.

.oOo.

Her eyes were puffy and red and it made Azula somewhat queasy. Her hospital stay hadn’t been long, but, according to TyLee, they had made it mighty clear that she had done a fool’s thing. That she had made a small break into something that would take much longer to recover from.

“But look! Your uncle went ‘n set me some flowers!” She motioned to a bouquet.

Uncle Iroh was a vet by trade and tended to one of the county’s largest gardens. So Azula wasn’t surprised to hear it. The vet’s clinic was situated in the same parking lot as the local doctor’s office and a small hospital. The man made a habit of bringing his homegrown flowers to patients.

“He even got me daffodils ‘n daisies, them are my favorites.”

“You mighta mentioned that every other day when we was kids, Ty.” Azula replied.

“I’m so glad you came to visit me!” She smiled brightly. “You ‘n Mai both.”

“Even though it’s our fault this happened?”

“I wouldn’t a done it if I didn’t want to.” TyLee replied.

Even still, peer pressure from the two of them didn’t do any favors.

“Well, I have a surprise fer you.” Azula made her way to where she had set her bag, not that it remained there. Rolling her eyes at Spade’s futile escape attempt, she plucked him into her arms and carried him to TyLee’s bedside. “Sokka bought ‘im for me.”

TyLee squealed in delight. “It’s a lil piggy!” She exclaimed. “A cute teeny lil’ piggy.” She paused. “Now why’d Sokka go ‘n buy you that?”

“‘Cause I didn’t win the singin’ competition.”

“But you have the best voice in…”

“I didn’t even use it.” Azula cut her off.

TyLee blinked. “Oh, Azula, it ain’t my fault is it? It ain’t because you thought it would be unfair to win when I couldn’t, is it?”

“Not entirely…” Azula trailed off. “Anyway...point is, Sokka got me a piglet.”

TyLee took the hint. “Oh he’s a charmer!” She exclaimed. “No wonder you like ‘im so much.” But that subject wasn’t much better.

“There ain’t nothin’ ‘tween me ‘n Sokka.” Azula insisted.

“Yeah-huh, there is.” TyLee argued. “Just cause you ain’t see it…”

Azula sighed.

“Y’all are gonna invite me to yer wedding right. ‘N yer gonna let me be a Godmother.”

“Ty! I ain’t gonna be no mom.” Azula folded her arms.

“Yer gonna be a mama, ‘n yer gonna sing the best lullabies. ‘N it ain’t just gonna be one baby. Yer gonna have three of ‘em. ‘N Sokka’s gonna have to deal with you when yer pregnant.”

Azula groaned. She knew that this had to be a special brand of TyLee vengeance. “I ain’t doin’ none a that sappy stuff.”

“Yer right, that’s Sokka’s job.” TyLee agreed as she rocked Spade in her arms. “I love ‘im so much.”

“You wanna spend the night with ‘im? I’ll come back for ‘im in the mornin’.”

TyLee’s eyes lit up and she nodded vigorously, “thanks a bunch Azula. I don’ know what I’d do without you ‘n Mai.”

.oOo.

Azula sat at her writing desk, trying not to let her mess of emotions overtake her completely. Between her mother, having failed to sing at all--much less, win, and Sokka making her feel all jittery and out of sorts, she didn’t know how she was going to write anything.

She supposed that she would write about Sokka. About the confliction.

Lyrics helped her organize her thoughts, helped her sort them out.

It would be a good warm up, a good way to get her creative flow going...

Her stomach knotted, remembering how her last ‘warm up’ song had gone.

#Avatar #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Zuko #TyLee #Ozai #Fanfiction

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Request - How to Save a Life

This was a request i was given a while ago based on the song How to Save a Life by The Fray

This isn’t particularity good, but I’m just trying to get myself back into writing so if you fancy giving it a read, go ahead, but it’s quite limited in character interaction

Let me know if you want to be tagged in anything

MAIN MASTERLIST

You didn’t have the energy for this

It had only been days since your release from hospital - at which point you had still been largely unable to move and your thoughts had been only upon when your next dose of painkillers would be – but now you were stood out on the cold streets of Gotham, biting down hard on your back teeth against the agony in your legs that came from walking this far in your condition.

No, you really didn’t have the energy for this.

But it also couldn’t wait.

You bobbed a subtle nod to the familiar man waiting at the back door of the warehouse, careful to hide any sign of the limp you sported as you walked down the alley – trying to pass your slow gait as due to confidence, not pain.

The man nodded back, though his face remained an emotionless mask. Just like it was supposed to be.

It had always struck you as weird how, despite the exuberant nature of their boss, the men that worked for J maintained a constant impassive and detached mask. You were never stupid enough to question it though.

The man step aside as you now moved to the doorway, holding the door open for you without a word. You made no word towards the gesture, simply stepping through into the dark corridor before. You might have been temporarily disorientated by the darkness if you didn’t know the building so well, and your strides didn’t falter as you continued straight, then took a left down an unseen corner.

You pushed open a heavy door in front of you and stepped into yet another dark room, blinking blindly at the sudden harsh artificial light that flickered automatically on overhead, triggered by your movement.

The warehouse before you lit up in stark, unforgiving honesty, but still you didn’t pause as you made your way across the empty concrete floor. The last time you had been here, the room had been full of crates containing things that you’d long since lost interest in asking about – weapons, drugs, explosives. They always disappeared as fast as they came anyway - supplies always moving. You were naïve and never lasted long if you left those sorts of things lying around in one place too long. Someone might track it down – another crime lord, mafia rejects,  maybe even the cops if they got a little help from a flying masked man.

The cruel light made a spot between your eyes pound painfully and you felt your wince pull at the tiny healing cuts on your that littered your face and at the stiches that held the larger ones together.

You had removed the bandage that the medics had insisted you kept around your forehead, exposing one of the largest cuts to the air, and you touched it gingerly now, checking it hadn’t begun to bleed again and fighting the wave of nausea that washed over you.

The doctors had wanted to keep you in longer, but the moment you could move – the moment you could sit up and then stand without feeling violent waves of nausea – you had demanded to be released.

You hadn’t like to just sit around and wait for someone to find you. You wanted everything to be on your own terms.

That’s how you survived.

And that’s what you’d been doing for years now. Surviving.

And it was killing you.

You pushed through a swinging door on the other end of the room, the light flickering on overhead as you moved down the corridor before you finally paused. You took a deep, painful breath where you hesitated.

Step one.

You rapped on the door in front of you. “J.” You called through it, clearing your throat at the weak croak in your voice before you called out again. There was a grunt from within the room and you pushed the door open.

The Joker was stood on the your left, head down as he studied something on the desk in front of him and he didn’t bother to glance up as you stepped  in. “J,” You murmured, closing the door behind you, “we need to talk.”

“Busy.” He growled, still not bothering to look up and now making as though to move past the desk and towards the door.

“Sit down, J.” You stated moodily, standing your ground and trying to catch his eyes. “It’s just a talk.” You insisted firmly when he faltered.

The Joker finally met your gaze, hard a stony for just a second before a wide smile split his face, though it didn’t meet his eyes. “Of course, my dear.” He bobbed his head politely and you watched him suspiciously as he now backtracked towards his desk, hands held out in a peace offering. “Go on, l’ll humour you,” He allowed, “If only ‘cause you’re all banged up!” He grinned widely, flopping down onto the chair behind him, throwing his arms wide with the movement.

Whose fault is that, you felt like saying, but you bit it back, knowing the comment – though true, would not help the situation. You kept your face impassive despite the Joker’s leer at you, unwilling to let J joke or play his way out of this.

There was still that window of opportunity here – a chance to stop this before you went through with it – a chance to back out.

You stepped forward, placing your foot wrong and quickly catching yourself as your leg went to buckle beneath you. You righted yourself, ignoring your fault and not missing the fact that J had not reacted in any way, ignoring it too. You weren’t surprised though - he didn’t begrudge you your injuries, but he wasn’t about to admit anything vulnerable within himself by offering anything in the form of aid. Somehow that would be an insult to him.

It still hurt you and not for the first time you wondered why you came.

“I know you’re busy, I’ll keep this short.” You stated coolly and J raised his eyebrows his bemused surprise at your seriousness.

“As tough as always I see, doll.” He teased with a growl, but you’re face remained sober. You knew he just wanted to brush this off as he always did, make you forgive him that easily and slip right back into your usual routine – where he was almost sweet to you as you healed, enough to draw you back in, then became cool and callous and you tried to turn a blind eye to it whilst he started tossing you around again like his own personal rag doll again.

“J, I’m leaving.”

You saw the grin on the Joker’s face flicker and falter for the briefest moment and then he arched his brow at you again. You couldn’t help shifting uncomfortably where you stood, not liking how vulnerable you suddenly felt. But didn’t this confirm all your thoughts to you – should feel this exposed and helpless around someone you supposedly loved.

You could almost see the options laid out before you now. Take back the words you had just uttered and stay on this path - stay with J, stay with this life – or what was left of it. Or leave and live to see old age.

J could read your face. “You’re giving up.” He sneered. It was an accusation, not a question, and it stung after everything you’d been through with him.

“I’d hardly class it as giving up J,” You snorted weakly, hiding your pain at the comment. “I’m surviving - I value my life and I thought you might actually value yours.” He laughed as though that was hilarious and you wondered why you’d even bothered to do this – to come and sit him down and try to explain, to give him a chance to save his own life as you tried to save your own.

Your last bout of trying merely to survive in this life had, after all, been what left you in the hospital with your wide variety of injuries.

You had counted your wounds numerous times as you’d laid there prone in the sterile  medical room, recalling which of the bones had been broken for the second or third time. Even now, your fingers were still strapped as you lifted your hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face, and your breathing was still shallow thanks to the sharp pain that came from your ribs at each inhale.

Your shoulder should have been strapped too – as should your wrist after one had been dislocated and the other sprained - but the last thing you wanted to show was weakness. You would get no pity here as J had already clearly proven.

You still had the vivid memory of waking up in that hospital and the sudden overwhelming fear of the state you were in – able to wiggle your toes but little else, and even that had not been a pleasant experience, your entire body emanating pain that was only dully staved off the some strong painkiller that had been trickling meagrely through the IV in your right, unmoveable arm.

You had been lucky to be alive, you had known that without the doctors and nurses routinely reminding you.

You hadn’t been so lucky, you knew however, to be alone.

“You wanna get off the merry go round, huh?” J sneered, breaking into your thoughts. “You feelin’ sick? Dizzy? Ya know if ya mighta been on too long, dolly,” J pointed out cruelly, “Get off now and the whole world’s just gonna keep spinning around ya sweety.”

You scowled at his malicious grin.

No one else had been in the harsh, sterile white room with you. No one. For once you had awoken strapped to beeping machines surrounding you and sore beyond comprehension without a sullen looking clown in the corner.

Or at the very least a guard posted to alert his boss when you awoke.

Nothing, not even someone waiting outside the door, and the week you spent no one came.

You should have been glad – who would want their own attacker in the room with them after all - but to you it had just rammed home a fact more painful than all of your physical injuries.

J didn’t care anymore.

And so you couldn’t either – though you knew that was easier said than done – even now as you stared into his cold grin and unyielding gaze.

You didn’t know at what point it had changed, what you had done wrong to form this cold, bitter wall between the two of you.

It was almost worse than the violent outbursts.

You had to leave and save your own life and your own sanity.

Of course, you wanted to save J’s as well - if you could. But that was ultimately up to him.

You feared you knew his answer though. You should have just run really – run and not looked back – not risked this visit – but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave for good without trying.

It was going to be hard though – J had to ultimately see the problem with where you were now – to want to save himself - to leave - to heal.

You knew the chances of this, but you simply – and foolishly - loved him too much not to try.

You knew the Joker was manipulative though and you couldn’t let him drag you back into it all.

“J, you might not believe this, but its for the best. For both of us. But I’d really appreciate it if you came with me. Neither of us have to do this on our own, but I will if I have to.”

“You’re the one who wanted this –“

“And I know this is you,” You confessed, slipping past his usual defence of you knew what you’d gotten yourself into. “But you’re not innocent in this – we didn’t use to be like this.”

You could almost see the window of opportunity fading with J’s silence and his stony eyes. Deep down you knew he wouldn’t follow you, but you didn’t want to believe it. But you couldn’t follow him wither more either. “J, there is so much wrong with us now, I could stand here and list everything out, but we both know it all already.” You sighed, shaking your head hopelessly, ignoring the wave of nausea that washed over you at the movement. “J this isn’t healthy. I think I knew all along it would end like this, but I – I didn’t want to face it.”

You kept your eyes low and wondered once again why you had bothered to even come and the point that it had all changed – when had your fun soured – when you could no longer consider the J as a friend – an ally – and instead he became a manacle, holding you in place - holding you in pain.

When had you lost everything?

“J, will you come with me?” You finally croaked, not able to look up, knowing what was going to happen next. “Will you save yourself?”

The Joker let out a bark of laughter. “Well listen to the preacher herself!” He cackled harshly, “The poster girl for sanity!” He gestured at you, “Oh girly you knew what you were getting into before I even bothered to take a smidgen of notice of you.” He grinned cruelly. “Now you’re telling me to save myself?!”

You could hear the silent fury behind the grins and cackling and you lowered your voice as J raised his, granting him one last choice. “The option is there J, you can carry on down this road, lose yourself completely, or break with those who drag you down it - come with me.”

You knew this was the last shot. The Joker would now do one of two things - admit to everything, the path he slipped further and further down, confess what had happened to the two of you, maybe even admit you were right.

Or he would say he was not the same as you, that this was his life and unwilling to change. And you would leave the room alone, wondering once again, just why you’d came.

There was a third option as well you supposed - perhaps he would just kill you.

You waited, but it was all too clear in J’s eyes what his answer was. You took a large shaky breath, “I know your answer, but I had to try.” You confessed, shrugging heavily. “I’m going to go.” You murmured, turning. “Good luck.” You muttered heading for the door.

You glanced back one last time at J, praying this both was and wasn’t the last time you had saw him. You would have waited longer - stayed with him all night if you had to – if you thought there was a chance you could change his mind – convince him.

Had you just known how to save him.

#joker x reader #joker #joker fan fiction #thejokersenigma #thejokersenigma fan fiction #joker x reader fan fiction

[bounnostra]

ch. 1 || TRIAL 1.2 || SCOURGE || [ re: ORWELL, PIP, DUCK kinda, MAVERICK ]

( When the table shoots up into the air and settles to a stop, SEATTLE waves at SCOURGE, and of course they give him a brief friendly wave back. Because he’s a bro, and who are they to leave a bro hanging? )

( Very important detail. )

Moving on.

SCOURGE gives a sigh, leaning their chin in their free hand. For fuck’s sake. Some of these assholes really had no goddamn brain cells, huh? Gambit really went fucking hard on locating some total dumbasses they have to put up with? Wasn't the whole gang warfare killing game thing more than enough?

“Yeah, all that’s what I’m talking ‘bout. Thanks for owning up to it, ORWELL, I guess. I’d like to know ‘bout the towel too, but for the sake of everyone, maybe just use the goddamn sink next time.” They sound more exasperated than usual. “‘Least we know the shit in the bath is irrelevant. Saves us from thinking ‘bout it.”

When PIP speaks up with his absolutely batshit nonsense, the look on SCOURGE’s face would be most simply described as ‘with every word PIP speaks, more years get taken off their lifespan.’ Their already deep eyebags somehow manage to look even deeper.

“PIP.” They let out this deep beleaguered sigh, as if acknowledging the man is a great weight upon their existence. “Normally, I wouldn’t fucking acknowledge all the bullshit you just said ‘cause it was largely total baseless nonsense -- and I won’t for most of it ‘cause we established five goddamn seconds ago that I saw Runa two hours before so she couldn’t’ve been killed in the morning and that ORWELL put the shit in the baths. She was wearing her exercise clothes when I saw her too.”

“And as for the candles, my group tested it. Holding two candles in one hand was a bit much for even MAVERICK -- and he’s a pretty big dude. Using both hands was probably just outta necessity. Also, the candle found in the boat with Runa was taller, as if it hadn’t burned as long as the other one.”

They’re tired. Honestly, they didn’t even want to acknowledge PIP is there because, really, they’re pretty sure he’s being even more of a pain in the ass than usual on purpose. But this is still serious business -- someone still died, regardless of how much Gambit wants a good show.

“Anyway.” 

SCOURGE rolls their eyes. There’s obviously some hostility rolling off of them in waves now. Wonderful!

“Runa’s shoes had the gunk from the dock on them. There were a bunch of marks and smudges on the dock that could suggest there was a struggle, and the boat was stationed out there. It seems likely to me that she was killed out there, not on the beach or anywhere else. The killer woulda had to carry or drag her out onto the dock otherwise, and the boat definitely woulda fucking sunk or flipped if two people were fighting in it.”

“Marks on it were largely either smudges, or square-shaped marks where the normal grime had been scraped away. The squares seemed to be somewhat in pairs. I’m thinking they mighta been from someone’s shoes -- and Runa was wearing sneakers, before hers are brought up -- but anyone else got any theories on those? 

They tap on their notebook again with the pen, an idle action. To break up all these dialogue patches.

“Also. While I won’t deny it’s possible that Runa brought the candles to have some kinda bonfire shindig with the killer, I will posit that there’s no way the candles were brought down after she was killed. And that the killer handled them enough to get wax on them.”

There’s a pause as they open their notebook to a page that has writing on it, checking something.

“The towel with all the gunk on it in the ground floor guest bathrooms also had some wax on it, and it seems completely fucking asinine for them to come in, clean off the sludge, go get the candles via the elevator -- which is slow as fuck -- go back outside to do whatever the fuck with them and set up Runa in the boat, and then go back to the bathroom a second time to clean off wax. Especially in under two hours. And with nobody noticing all their back and forths.”

Another tap to the notebook, as if silently demonstrating they’re referencing whatever was written.

“Was trying to come up with a possible timeline earlier. Candles brought down, Runa is killed, killer sets her up in the boat with all the sticks and shit, cuts the boat free, goes inside to clean up. But I think you get the point.” Another pause. "Think MAVERICK might be onto something with the Runa being strangled from behind thing, by the way. Makes sense."

#boun #ch1 #scourge #submission