#it's the little stupid details that tickle the brain real good

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Tease

Wanted to try a male reader for once and i really enjoyed writing this :) One of my favs dare I say. Have fun!

Warning: 18+

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„You said you didn‘t want it!“ Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defense when you threw the empty chocolate pack at him.

„I was being polite!“ You protested, „Posh boys like you should know that!“

Sirius‘ eyes narrowed and he threw the pack at your head this time. „I am not a posh boy, fucker. You better fucking kiss my feet or I will-“

You tackled him with a cry, hitting his face repeatedly with a pillow. Your body jerked on top of his rhythmically, which either meant that he was laughing or chocking to death. And you really hoped it be the latter.

„Don‘t you fucking dare asshole! You promised not to bring it up!“

His next words came out muffled from underneath the soft fabric, which began to feel not so soft, considering that you were pressing pretty hard. Sirius started to panic and yelled out a „Help! Help! I‘m dying!“

You felt strong arms wrap around your stomach and drag you away from your murder mission.

„Let me go! He needs to die!“

James was laughing so hard at Sirius‘ horrified face that even he had trouble keeping you at bay.

„This is bullying! I‘ll tell Minnie! You fucking lutanic!“

„Minnie doesn‘t care about your sob story, she would be delighted to find out I killed you before she could with all of your missing homework!“

Sirius barreled towards you with a battle cry, but James threw you to the side, effectively blocking the tackle with his body. Sirius must have aimed to hurt you a little, because James fell down with an painfully loud thud.

„Bloody hell, Pads. That bloody hurt.“ James groaned, rubbing his ribs soothingly.

Sirius scrambled up and helped his friend off the ground, throwing you a dark look. You sneered at him, sitting down on the bed farthest away. James grinned at his friend, mouth opening to make fun of him.

„How could he hold you down like that? He‘s smaller than you!“

Sirius huffed, blushing a little with embarrassment and he turned away, presumably to hide his red cheeks. „He had an advantage. I was being strangled, mind you.“

„Strangled my ass“ you said under your breath and crossed your arms petulantly. „He made fun of me. Again!“

James raised a brow in amusement, eyes flickering towards you and you groaned when you saw his expression. Here we go.

„Is it about a certain wolf?“

Sirius turned around so fast you heard his ankles crack and moved to stand next to his friend, delighted to have him at his side and chuckled. Your scowl darkened and you got up, trying to push though your friends to leave.

„Fuck off, both of you. I‘m leaving.“

Sirius stopped laughing and raised his hands in defeat. „Oh come on, don‘t be ridiculous, we‘re only taking a piss mate.“

Your mouth fell open to hurl more curses at him when you saw Remus appear behind the two boys and clamped your mouth shut again. Fuck, was your hair alright? You secretly smoothed it over, glaring at James when he wiggled his brows suggestively.

„Alright, everyone?“ Remus asked, voice exhausted and he fell down next to you on the bed, sighing with relief when his aching joints didn‘t have to carry his weight anymore. The moon was taking a toll on him.

„Are you alright?“ Your voice came out worried and you stroked through his messy curls. Remus only let out a tired „Mhm“ as he sank down further into the mattress, pressing into your hand.

„Is it the moon?“

„Mhm.“

„Are you hurting already?“

Sirius chimed in from his bed. „I think it‘s safe to say that the old man is always hurting.“

You glared at him. „Shut up, Black. No one asked you.“

Sirius huffed and turned his back towards you with a dramatic toss of his dark hair, pulling his curtains closed.

This time James spoke up, peaking his head from the corner of the bathroom door. Some of his toothpaste spilled over when he opened his mouth and you grimaced at the disgusting sight. James and Sirius seemed to share one braincell. A part-time braincell, that was clearly rusty at this point from being so rarely used.

„Need anything?“

Remus jerked, clearing jostled awake from his little slumber and groaned in annoyance. „Peace and quiet. Oh wait, that‘s death.“

You couldn‘t help the snort that escaped you at his deadpanned tone and whacked him on the head. Remus cracked an eye open and smiled at your amusement. You schooled your expression and held your hand up in a mock salute.

„No one is dying. And if, then we‘ll do it together.“

There was a series of Amen‘s and you nodded in satisfaction, like a general who never liked being told no. Already dressed in your pajamas, or actually only your pajama pants, you crawled into your own bed, across from Remus‘. You wished that Remus would have clasped your wrist and made you stay, he did that sometimes, but alas it was just a wish. You had it bad for the boy, fingers still tingling with the feel of his hair. You thought about what it would be like to kiss him, to touch his scars and feel his breath on your face when you slept.

You huffed frustratedly when your brain forced stupid scenarios into your mind. Fuck, were they nice ones at that.

No, he isn‘t gay, brain! Fucking stop with the mental images!

Your brain decided to one up itself and showed you a very suggestive image of Remus on his knees, sucking your dick with such contentment it made your breath hitch.

Fuck.

Or Remus on his hands and knees, every little detail of his body on display, making such lovely keening noises you thought you had died for sure.

Oh fuck.

You opened you eyes instantly to stop the dirty thoughts of your best mate, mind you, and tried to calm your breathing. Apparently, meditation is a hoax, because no matter how many sheeps you counted or deep breaths you took, your brain was still convinced that Remus sucking you off was the hottest thing ever. And it is the hottest thing ever, you agreed. So did your raging boner.

Only this once.

Against your better judgement your hand trailed down your chest towards your pants, slipping under the waistband of your underwear. Your hand wrapped around your hard cock and imagined Remus on top of you, kissing your lips feverishly. Groaning and moaning into your mouth, telling you how good you feel around him. Telling you how long he had waited for this moment. Biting your lip you moved faster, stifling your groans when your palm spread your precum over the sensitive tip. You were so close, head thrown back in pleasure, fuck so close so clo-

„Shit sorry!“

Somehow you managed to pick up a shocked gasp through your trance and your eyes opened wide, jerking violently. And here he was, the source of your inescapable desire. Remus fucking Lupin. Who just caught you wanking. Your brain has meanwhile decided to pack its suitcase and piss off, because suddenly you couldn't produce a single clear sentence. It felt like being a baby all over again, not knowing how to use your voice or twists your tongue to get the right words out. Not that there was anything to say, you couldn’t just pretend like you weren’t touching yourself.So, you just stare at him like a moron, your hand still in your fucking pants. Slowly but surely you felt your face heat up and you didn't even dare to breathe loudly, too scared to scare Remus away.

His eyes were fixed on your hand, teeth biting his lip. Not knowing what to do, he apparently decided to just stand there. The curtains of your bed were gripped tightly in his fist, as if it were the only thing that kept him steady at the moment. The both of you stared at each other for a good minute, digesting the embarrassment of the situation until Remus climbed into your bed.

Wait. 

Alarm bells rang shrill in your head, the nerve cells in your skull burst into panic. 

Remus in your bed. 

Crawling between your legs. 

Your hand still in your pants. 

What.

„Let me help?“ Remus‘ voice was raspy, slightly scared that you‘ll reject him. He was seated between your knees now, wringing his scarred hands nervously. It took you a few seconds to register what he had said as you blinked at him in mortification. 

Remus hung his head, nodding to himself as if he had known that this would happen and moved away. Fuck, no come back. Brain! Say something!

Your brain was still hyperventilating however, so your legs decided to give you a hand, definitly under the order of your hard cock, which was already throbbing with excitement. You snap your legs shut, trapping Remus’ upper body between your thighs and pulled him on top of you. Not expecting the move, Remus fell forward and his lips smashed on yours.

Oh wow.

This was better than you expected. This exeeds all 638 fantasies you ever had of this moment. This was real.

You kissed for a while, both of you falling into each others arms to feel as close as possible, grinding your cocks on each other like horny teens. Which you were, to be precise. You moved your head to the side to break the kiss, grinning at Remus’ lust hazy expression and bucked your hips up again.

“I’ll have that help now, if you’re still offering...” You whispered, basking in the boyish grin of the wolf.

Moving to wipe your hand on your bedsheet to finally touch him, Remus caught your hand and brought it to his mouth. You whined quietly when you felt his tongue tickle your palm. Remus mmm‘d softly, a devilish glint twinkling in his bright eyes.

Lifting your hips, Remus pulled down your pants and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch. Nothing in the world could keep your from branding the sight of Remus licking your cock into the depths of your mind. 

Remus leaned in, mouthing at the skin of your stomach, inching closer to your weeping tip. He took his time, breathing your scent in deeply, his eyes closed.

„Come on Moony“ you urged, lifting your hips. Remus held you down, smirking up at you teasingly.

„Either you let me go in my own pace or you can suck it yourself.“

You immediately stilled and made a motion of locking your lips with an imaginary key. Remus chuckled soundlessly and you nearly, nearly, bucked your hips up again. His mouth was so hot and wet and god it was really Remus sucking your cock. The thought alone made you shudder and writhe under him, your hands burried in his curls. Remus may not know much about blowjobs, but he made up for it with his enthusiasm. His moan was just filthy, the way he looked at you through his eyelashes as if he just wanted to devour you, to break you into pieces.

“Oh Remus” you groaned into your fist, knuckles white from gripping his hair so tightly, “Wait ah fuck please wait!”

Remus rolled his eyes and pulled away, raising his brow at you. His facial expression was something akin to “How dare you interrupt me?” 

You took deep breaths to hold yourself from cumming when he smeared the tip of your cock against his glistening lips, coating himself in your cum while he glared at you. This boy is sin.

“Wanna cum with you” you explained breathlessly, pulling him up to smash your lips on his. Remus groaned low in his throat when you sucked his lips, moving to straddle your lap. The rough fabric of his pants made you snort contemptuously and you tugged at the waistband, mumbling an annoyed “Off.”

Remus seemed to agree, with the way he nearly ripped the zipper clean off and finally he was naked. Not fully, but you let him be, knowing he’d be insecure about his scars. You’ll work on that next time. Next time.

Remus placed his hands on his thighs, letting you admire his body. His confidence shot up by the way your breathing got heavier and your cock twitched under his. Every millimeter of your skin is touching, both of you slowly rocking your cocks against the other. Your cum mixed and made it easier to move and you took them in your hands, a huge breath escaping your lips with the sudden rush of electricity. Remus quickly casted a silencing charm and gave into the pleasure, setting a fast pace by thrusting his cock in your fist.

“Fuck you feel so good” Remus groaned and squeezed your wrists, “I’ve wanted this for so long”

You nearly laughed by how ridiculously acurate your fantasies had been and gripped harder, crying out when Remus leaned down to bite your shoulder hard, leaving imprints of his teeth on your flesh.

“’M’not gonna la- oh Moony fuck” You were lost in your pleasure, already sensitive with your denied orgasm from before. Remus slapped your hand away and spit on your cocks, taking them in his hands this time. His pace was aggressive and impatient, hand unyielding and he rocked his hips as fast as he could. 

“Want you to cum on my cock” Remus grunted, his other hand gripping your jaw to look into your eyes. His pupils were blown out, as if he was on a high. You felt him pulse against you, his eyes screwd shut and he came with a loud cry, making you tip over the edge as well. His hand kept going, thighs holding you down when you tried to squirm away. 

Bringing his cum covered hand to his mouth, Remus gave it a tentative lick, eyes fluttering shut when his tongue wrapped around his fingers. You watched him hum around his hand and he gave you a satisfied smile, totally in bliss with your little session.

“This was fucking hot” Remus grinned and fell down next to you, blinking at you tiredly.

You bit your lip and mustered up enough courage to squeak out a “So you’re gay?” 

Remus gave you a flat look. “I came on your cock didn’t I?”

You cleared your throat and laughed quietly. “Yeah. Yeah you did.” Your voice came out dreamy and you threw your leg over his middle.

And just like that you surrendered to your exhaustion, while Sirius and James were hysterical with exicetment. Their shared braincell was activated and currently made it its mission to come up with ways to catch you next time. Embarassing you was their thing after all.

#remus x male reader #remus lupin smut #remus lupin #remus lupin x male reader #marauders smut

[obeymedreams]

Sweet as You

Author’s notes: I’m salty that the event will not give me Lucifer and Luke’s card so instead I’m replacing it with sweet headcanons about the essence of the datables’ kisses and what chocolates you’d give, plus a little bit about how you and Luke teamed up to make them! 

Content warning: food, chocolate, candy

Length: 2.4 K

Lucifer

You make a coffee bonbon for Lucifer. The shell is dark chocolate with two streaks of colour painted on—one in your favourite colour and another in his. The filling is an espresso ganache that highlights the bitterness of chocolate and coffee while ensuring the bonbon is never too sweet

Lucifer is both impressed with the flavour and the obvious care you’ve put into crafting this confection. He offers to prepare some drinks so you two can enjoy the chocolate together

Kissing Lucifer is being swept up in each other. It feels like passing by each other in castle walls, then hiding behind pillar to exchange impassioned kisses and whispers of love. The world might be continuing around you, but in that moment only the two of you matter

Lucifer feels clarity when kissing you. Everything else melts away and all that is left is the feeling of your lips and the warmth of your love. Your kisses contain an oasis and Lucifer finally feels like he can relax

Mammon

Mammon gets a fancy gold leaf bonbon that has a glossy shine. And to his delight you’ve gifted him liquor chocolate filled with an expensive Demonus that’s all the rage lately

Naturally, Mammon enjoys the chocolates because they’re fancy. However, the real reason he adores them is that they are proof that, to you, he is someone worth splurging on in both effort and money

Kisses with Mammon are messy and unexpected yet both of you feel like you’ve waited forever for this. The first taste of you isn’t enough, and Mammon becomes addicted pretty quickly. It’s a rush, like betting on a rolling dice or a flip of a card while on a winning streak. He feels like he’s losing all good sense yet so sure this is the right decision

His love for you is neither neat nor compartmentalized and neither are his kisses. It’s bubbling affection that he just can’t contain anymore. No matter how many lies he verbalizes, the blush on his visage and the way he greedily steals kiss after kiss says enough

Levi

You craft a chocolate treat based of a scene in TSL! There was a cute scene between Henry and the Lord of the Shadows where they eat chocolates, sharing one last sweet moment before having to part. You decide to recreate it by creating milk chocolate bonbons with a salted caramel filling, making sure to use a mold which creates the right shape!

Levi is floored. He knows EXACTLY which scene these chocolates are from, down to the page and line numbers. He simply gawks for a while and then proceeds to basically have a photoshoot. When he finally takes a bite, you can see the way his face lights up and it’s worth all the effort

Kisses with Levi are an adventure with ups and downs, bumps in the road, but a treasure chest at the end. When you first kiss him, he’s a blushing mess with brain working overtime to suppress his fight or flight instinct. But in spite of himself, Levi leans in and trusts you because no one treats him with this tenderness

His world is still small, aside from his brothers and Lotan, everything he loves could probably be contained in his room. But your kisses expand his horizons and maybe he thinks it’d be worth it to explore the world a little more, even if it leaves him vulnerable

Satan

You make Satan a combination of brigadeiros and mint discs for Valentine’s day! He enjoys that you’ve made chocolate confections but veered outside the classic bonbons. Satan likes the soft and chewy textures of the brigadeiros in contrast with the crunchy sprinkles and the unique texture of sugared mint atop dark chocolate discs

Satan happily opens the box of chocolate. He admires them for a bit and compliments you on their appearance before popping one in his mouth. He feels both loved and a little smug, Satan knows a bit about chocolate confections, enough that he’s certain you’ve put quite a bit of effort into this, which makes it all the more sweet

Lay on compliments about how he’s just as sweet as the chocolate, perhaps referencing a book he’s reading, and how all that work was worth it for his sake and you might get him blushing

Kisses with Satan are like browsing a library—the nostalgic smell of old books combined with excitement of discovering new worlds contained in pages. You’ve had more kisses with Satan than you can count, but even with that familiarity, you feel like you’re uncovering something new each time your lips meet

Asmo

Asmo knows the value of appearance so you ensure your chocolates look just as good as they taste. You make white chocolate disc in the shape of hearts and adorn them with sugared petals. Additionally, you create passionfruit bonbons with cute heart indents which look picture perfect.

Asmo takes a selfie with you while you each hold a chocolate confection. Sweets for your sweetheart!~ It’s cute. 

But then you bring up how you chose passionfruit for its refreshing taste, so its easy to continually eat the chocolates, because just like the bonbons you’ll never get sick of him! It’s such a small detail but it warms his heart and suddenly you’re trapped in a hug

Asmo’s kisses don’t neatly fit into any single category. He is sweet, masterful and practiced, playful and lets you take the lead, but he is always sincere in his affection to you. Kisses are one of many ways to reaffirm your love

His kisses are like eating an assorted box of chocolates. One kiss is light and flirty, the next is sensual and stroking desire, then another which is teasing and light while interspersed with giggles. Yet all of them leave you with a sweet feeling

Beel

You make Beel a big pile of semi-sweet chocolate bark with variety of toppings, one has freeze dried raspberries, another has almonds, some use hellfire peppers, it’s a whole buffet

Beel plants a kiss on your forehead and thanks you so much for the gift! He begins to dig in to the treats you’ve made and has an endearing content grin the entire time he wolfs the chocolate down. He does his best to remember to offer you a bite too!

Many of Beel’s kisses start off as innocent fondness and true devotion. He loves you and you can feel it in the way he holds you close to him and devours all the affection you give. 

But many of his kisses turn hungry, because he can never get enough of you, the taste of your lips, your sweet moans, the way your hands roam, the puffs of hot breaths, they all never fail to leave him wanting more. His kisses feel satisfying and fulfilling, because you get to indulge to your heart’s content

Belphie

You make Belphie coconut oil chocolates! They’re so easy to eat, he doesn’t even need to chew. You have to be careful to not melt them when making and handle the individual morsels, but it’s worth it all in the end

You surprise him by popping the chocolate into his mouth! You’re lucky he trusts you, if it was anyone else he’d probably have spit it out. It’s easy to bite through and melts to spread a pleasant chocolate taste across his mouth.

Probably muttered something under his breath, but he makes sure to thank you for the gift too, even if he is a little blasé about it. At least these ones aren’t dusty

Belphie’s kisses are lazy little things with missed lips and little laughs, huffs of air, and that smirk that makes you want to kiss him stupid until he can’t pretend to be relaxed. Random pecks in the morning, between naps, before bed, but if you ever ask why, the answer is “just because”

Occasionally your kisses are salvation and desperation. No life, no relationship, no person is without turbulence. Your hot breaths prove you’re alive and breathing, the love your pour into him as your lips meet prove he is worthy of affection, and he doesn’t intend to let go

Diavolo

You make Diavolo white chocolate matcha bonbons! The inside is filled with a smooth matcha ganache that’s a brilliant shade of green. The shells are painted with the rough silhouette of your favourite flower. The matcha flavour helps balance out the sweetness of the white chocolate, making a delicious treat

Diavolo is delighted by the gift and compliments the taste! But he also enjoys the story that goes with it when you tell him your thought process, how matcha has become popular across the world in the human realm, and what human traditions are attached to the gifting of chocolates

He’s already plotting what he wants to give you in return, but for now he’ll enjoy your heart felt confection while making sure to give you a piece

Kisses with Diavolo are like fireworks. No matter how many times you see them, they never lose their brilliance. Even if they aren’t always in the sky, they bring you joy each time you see their bright colours and sparkling streaks

Diavolo intends to indulge you in kisses. Even the short ones, before meetings, after class, the domesticity tickles his heart. But Diavolo’s preference leans to long kisses where the two of you meld together. Everything is you, your unique scent, the way his name leaves your mouth, the way you hold onto him, your taste alone makes him want to dive deeper 

And why stop at one kiss? He should have another for good measure, maybe two, three, four—well now there’s no point counting so you might as well continue

Barbatos

You make strawberry shortcake inspired chocolates for Barbatos. The bonbon shell is made with ruby chocolate with the filling consisting of whipped white chocolate ganache and strawberry preserves. 

The several components merge together to make a sweet dessert and Barbatos appreciates how you use the novel ruby cocoa. Barbatos out of everyone knows how much work must have gone to create these bonbons and makes sure to both savour it and compliment you

Kisses with Barbatos are like sharing a secret. You get special access to a gateway into him, and in these kisses you create a special place just for the two of you

His kisses are almost dangerously good, you swear kissing didn’t always feel this good. But his intensity, the way it’s only the two of you, the mere privilege it is to have him whisper sweet words between gilded kisses, it makes it worth all the wait

Simeon

You make Simeon earl grey tea truffles! You coat the truffles with milk chocolate to create an easy to hold shell. Then you have stripes of dyed white chocolate — one in your favourite colour and another in his. 

Simeon thinks it’s adorable at how your chocolates have become a matching couple item with the coloured stripes. He thinks it’s lovely how you made him tea flavoured chocolate, given how many fond memories the two of you have which centre around a cup of tea

Simeon kisses make you feel treasured. He peppers your face is soft kisses, he cups your cheek gently, and the adoration in his eyes almost overwhelms your heart

His love is all encompassing and you’ve never felt safer than when you’re in his arms. Beautiful lashes fan his cheeks, contended sighs, and underlying warmth. Simeon feels like home and with his kisses, you’re falling in love again 

Solomon

You know Solomon likes cupcakes and poisoned apples so you decide to combine the two! You make him an apple cakepop coated in coloured white chocolate to look like a poisoned apple!

Unlike his cooking, your sweet tastes delicious and leaves the eater happy. You make sure to use granny smith apples to retain some tartness and Solomon happily eats the confection. 

Unfortunately, your sweetheart has also made sweets to express his love for you. Don’t let Solomon give you chocolates back or use a trick to dispose of them! It is not romantic to spend the day puking or sick in bed. Or hey, maybe true love is eating it knowing that it spells out nothing less than doom

Kisses with Solomon feel like an exploration. You get to know him bit by bit and each kiss feels like proof he is wiling to vulnerable with you. Some trips result in airy kisses, others feel like rocky days at sea filled with passion and you’re in danger of running out of breath, it’s always an adventure

Sometimes, you swear you can feel his lips form a smug smile. Other times, he approaches you so gently and the touch of hesitancy, like he can’t really believe he got you, makes you want to shower him with enough love to wash away all doubt. He holds you tight, to him you are warmth and intimacy, and he never wants to let go

Bonus: Making Chocolates with Luke

When making chocolates with Luke, it is best to be sweet with him, guide the angel with soft suggestions without sounding like you’re babying him. Generally, Luke is pretty amendable but he can have a stubborn streak if he feels like he has something to prove

He makes for chocolate confections for Barbatos, Simeon, Micheal, Solomon and you! It’s so cute to see him so excited when he thinks about how happy everyone will be when they receive the gift

You two go through many spoons to check if the chocolate is tempered, rapidly tapping the chocolate to see if it has that snap and sighing when it blooms

By the end of it, you two are a mess with chocolate smears on your apron, but you have nice assortment of shiny chocolate sweets

#obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me simeon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #obey me luke #obey me luke & reader #lucid dreams #cw.food #cw.chocolate

[numptypylon]

Epilogue

I added a short epilogue to Reunion and Intersection today, but I also wrote a much longer one, full of fluffy comfort, to get through the angst-writing in the first two chapters. It’s unedited, unfinished and ridiculously self-indulgent, and I don’t think it really goes with the story, so I elected to not post it, but I’m attaching it here, under the cut, for those interested. Keep in mind it’s a reject for a reason though; this is what my writing looks like in the explorative phase where I’m looking for the point, and in this case I didn’t really find it XD

~2K under the readmore

Callum got there early. A lot of people eyed him warily, but a letter from Queen Janai was a good smoother-of-grumpy-elf-tempers.

No-one had seen Rayla, so… she was probably not here yet.

He went to the inn, bought a large room, lit a roaring fire in there, activating the Sunfire rock he used to keep warm at night under the covers of the bed, and calling for the tub to be filled. It had the usual Skywing heating arrangement, only needing a good Fulminis to heat the water.

He resisted flying out to find her. He risked missing her again, and her leaving town before he got back.

It was about… hitting the point of intersection.

So, he waited at the city gates. He didn’t have to wait nearly as long as he expected, considering the distance she would have had to traverse. Maybe she had recovered and had travelled faster than he thought.

It was definitely her though. A small, lone figure on the mountainside.

He intended to wait for her until she got to him, but then she stopped to lean against a tree and he realized that she had not recovered and was up there sick in the snow… and that resolve evaporated like it had never been.

Like he would ever let her struggle alone a moment longer than she needed to.

 **

 It was a measure of her exhaustion that she didn’t notice him until he was basically right in front of her, and even then, her reaction was so much slower than usual.

It still… it was hard to believe it was real. For her too, surely more so.

He numbly pulled his scarf off, packing it around her neck and head. He grazed her cheek and felt it and she felt it and… she felt it, because the tears that had built up in her eyes spilled over at his touch, slipping down her dirty and flushed cheeks.

She looked ready to drop, and felt it too, when he put his arms around her and her disbelief gave way to relief. Whatever ridiculous level of stubbornness had kept her upright for the last day and night of walking through snow and up mountains when she should have been in bed… fell away and she slumped almost completely in his arms.

She sobbed hoarsely for a bit, and he let her.

And she let him, when his hand cupped the back of her head and her hair tickled his fingers and it hit him too that… it was really real, she was here.

They needed to… get to the inn though, so he pulled away and wiped his face. They could… and probably would… have a longer cry and a longer hug later. But she was sick and cold and there was a roaring fire and a filled bathtub two minutes of flight away.

“Let’s go,” he said. “I knew you were coming this way and that you were sick. And I booked a room for… you.” For them both, he hoped, but-

“What?” she blubbered. “But… aren’t… aren’t you mad?”

“I mean, of course I am, but… that’s not really… that can wait.”

“I’m…” she laughed weakly, more tears spilling over. “I’m so happy to see you and there’s… so many things I would like to say and… and I’m such a mess right now and so tired and I’m just… I’m so tired I cried earlier just because a stupid pine branch hit me in the face and knocked me off my sled and it continued down the mountain without me and I’d have to walk instead and-“

“Hey, hey!” He stroked down her flushed, wet cheeks, along fresh scratches where presumably that branch had hit her. Sledding, huh… she always was extremely resourceful and oh so daring. And that explained how she got here so fast. “Rayla, it’s okay. You can rest first. I’ll take care of things… of you. For as long as you want me to, but… definitely for the next few days.”

“How c-can you… are you… here-”

He leant his head against her forehead, relishing in the feeling of contact, even if her skin was clammy and too-hot. “That’s… complicated,” he said. “And also simple. You called me here. I came.”

“Manis. Pluma. Volantis.”

 **

 She staggered, when they set down, steadying herself on his shoulder, and Callum was glad he had elected to land in front of the inn instead of at the city gates.

She definitely wasn’t well yet, her breath rasping in her throat, her forehead beading with sweat, cheeks and ears flushed. The fever had maybe broken, but it hadn’t quite left. And she was exhausted, trembling with the effort of staying upright, her eyes dull and glassy.

People were staring, when they went inside, but the innkeeper came over and recommended the soup of the day, and their house-made herbal tea blend with Sky Yak milk, and assured them it would be brought to their room shortly, with a look of very obvious sympathy at Rayla.

And then the door shut behind them.

“I owe-” she started, but he cut her right off.

“No. You’re owed,” he said tightly.

“Owed what?” She sounded… nervous.

“Soup. Hot tea. A warm bed and a fire someone else made. General fussing. Love. Forgiveness. Kindness. A damn break, for once.”

“L-love?”

“Yeah, love.”

Her clumsy fingers fumbled at the clasps of her armor. They were still ice cold when he touched them, the skin red and no-doubt sore.

But she for once didn’t resist any help he gave, sinking gratefully into the tub he had prepared. A warm bath was possibly not great for her fever, but… it was pros and cons and he needed to warm up her hands and feet.

She was barely conscious when he helped her back out of the tub, so he just put her down on a towel on the bed, drying her hair as best he could. He at least managed to get her awake to pull off her own wet underwear and pull his clean night shirt over her head.

 **

 “Callum?” she asked, because… she wanted things, and she could have them. “Stay with me? Please.”

He pressed against her back, warm and real.

His hands engulfed hers, big and soft and familiar.

Full of real little details that her brain hadn’t accurately recreated.

The callus at the side of his right index finger, from his charcoal pencil. The scar from a clumsy sparring accident at the second knuckle.

His voice when he said her name and when he told her it was okay.

His kinda… snuffling non-snoring sleep-sound.

And new things, that she hadn’t known to add.

His arms, still skinny, but stronger than they had been.

His too-long hair flopping over his ears.

And things she had yet to find out.

 **

 “Morning-“ she muttered, as she woke, feeling warm. And her throat felt a lot better, too and most of that sticky, gross fever feeling was gone, although there was still some sluggish daze, everything just a bit vaguer and floatier than it should have been.

“Afternoon,” Callum corrected lightly, but there was something not so light underneath. “You slept for… 14 hours. I bet you’re hungry.”

“I bet… you were worried.” That was a long time to worry and not wake her to assuage it but just sit in it, watching her sleep.

She reached out to stroke his furrowed brow. Her hands were bandaged though, so she couldn’t touch him properly. She didn’t remember, but did recall something about Callum saying he had called a doctor, and then she must have conked out pretty hard and slept through it.

She clenched and released her hands experimentally. Seemed alright except for being stiff and sore?

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, staring down at the thick bandages.

“Except for the illness that nearly killed you because you’re such a massive dummy? Lots of things.” He took her hands, starting to unwind the bandages. “For your hands, hopefully only frostnip. I’m supposed to check that, when you woke, take you back to the doctor if there’s signs of deeper frostbite.”

There was some thick ointment, probably the reason for the bandages. Her hands looked reddened, the fingers a bit swollen, but… not so bad. Nothing was white or black or blistered, so really, nothing to worry about, where frostbite was concerned.

Callum wasn’t satisfied with a visual inspection though, cupping her hands in his, methodically checking she could feel all her fingers and make a full fist.

“I think it’s okay,” he said, breathing out, relieved. He did tend to catastrophize- “No… no risk of amputation this time-” His fingers slid across her left wrist, the faint whitened scars from where the binding had dug into her skin and where the sunforge blade had burnt her.

“It’s definitely okay,” she said. “Barely hurts.” She cupped his face, feeling his skin just fine against her fingertips. “It’s not like back then, okay?”

“How do you feel today?”

“Better. Way better. I’m ready to go, if-”

“What?!” He stared at her in disbelief. “Absolutely not. You didn’t hear what the doctor said. But I did, she got here while you were sleeping. And absolutely not.”

“What-“ Was it not just a regular bug?

He breathed, slowly and deliberately. “You’re okay, it’s a regular winter infection going around. But you did a number on your own immune system with the hypothermia and mountain climbing and… she said you were undernourished, dehydrated, stressed and critically exhausted. And that you would do well to take a week or more to fully recover, during which you should eat and rest plenty, stay warm and keep stress down. Does that sound like your regular travel, to you?”

Well… not so much.

“So, I’ll ask again, how do you feel today?”

“Tired,” she sighed. “My hands are stiff and achy. My throat hurts. My legs are wobbly. My head feels full of snot.” She smiled, despite all that. “My heart is happy to see you. It’s okay if you’re- I know… that it’s complicated.”

“It is. We have… some things to talk about. Promise you won’t leave until we do?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Then, I think we should put the complicated things away for a few days. Until you’re better and it doesn’t hurt your throat to talk. Because… we have a lot of talking to do.”

“You don’t… need to stay. For those few days. If it’s hurting you to-”

He sighed heavily. “It does.” Yeah, he couldn’t say that it didn’t. Being around her with so much… unresolved. She didn’t want that for him. She didn’t… want to have those long and hard conversations right now either, when she was still tired and fevered and liable to burst into tears at the slightest provocation. “But it would hurt me more to leave. Didn’t it hurt you? To leave?”

“Yeah.” So, so much.

He reached out to pack his scarf around her throat more closely, the soft, warm knit a soothing feeling against the raw ache.

“Lie down, okay? Be sick? I’ll read you a story. It has murder and dismemberment in it, I asked the innkeeper specifically.”

#rayllum #rayla #callum #tdp #the dragon prince #numpty fic tag #reunion and intersection

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

A Disasterous Loaf-Life

“Bread”

@weweregoddesses​

Pairings: Romantic Dukexiety

TWs: Swearing, Remus being Remus, Sexual Innuendos, Phallic Shaped Bread Creatures, some angst but not too much, Pretty Brief Heated Makeout, mentions of a parasite that affects humans, Implied Sexual Activities Post Fic End (no actual sex tho),

Summary: Two Pining Dumbasses Make Bread.

(This is so long I just got super carried away)

--

“Remus, is there a reason you’ve kneaded your dough into the shape of an ass?”

Virgil watched with a fond sigh as the man next to him proudly stood over the booty bread he’d lovingly crafted over the last ten minutes. 

“Not really,”, Remus cackled, raising his hands, “Except for this!”, and with that, he brought down his hands in a flurry of obscene slaps to the fake rear. Virgil maintained his composure for all of a minute before he had to physically restrain his snickering. 

God dammit, this fucking guy! Thirteen years and Remus was still the one person who could make him laugh like the world wasn’t watching. 

“Well, when you’re finishing pulverising your Glutenous Maximus, are you gonna finally tell me what you’re actually shaping your loaf into this time?”, Virgil snarked affectionately. 

Remus rolled his eyes; his emo dork was spending far too much time with Patton lately. 

“Same as the last time we did this, duuuh.”, he retorted, as if that were common knowledge.

Virgil’s eyes widened, “.... You’re not serious.”

“As serious as Naegleria Fowleri.”

“.. as what?!”

“Y’know, that fucked up brain eating amoeba that they found in that one Disney water park-”

“NEVERMIND!”, Virgil hastily shook the thought away as he tended to his own dough, “Don’t tell me, I’ll have nightmares for weeks...”

The hoodie clad mad looked Remus up and down as he folded his own purple dyed dough, “.... Are you really going to attempt the Cocktopus again? Seriously?”

Remus shrugged, already forming the eight ‘tentacles’ in stunningly graphic detail, “Why not? You’re making purple bread again, why don’t I do the same?”

Well, he had him there. Really, Virgil had gone to make his bread purple without even thinking about it. Perhaps just being next to Remus after all this time had subconsciously brought him back to that same summer day they’d spent in the kitchen side by side making bread together. Virgil could hear his mother’s old junkbox of a radio blaring Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love while he and Remus slung flour at each other and danced about in their socks trying not to slip. 

Being back in the same house - now passed down to him - making bread once again with Remus brought back so many memories and emotions. Most of them good, though as he looked over to the man he still loved absolutely going to town on his bread sculpting, Virgil couldn’t help but remember how much guilt he still harboured; he’d never expected Remus to kiss him out of the blue back then, but Virgil also hadn’t expected to silently run off to his room to calm down, only to find Remus had left. 

Not just his home, but his life. Virgil hadn’t wanted to face Remus, unsure of how to handle his feelings, but seeing the moving sign on the Duke family’s front lawn that next week as he watched the moving van leave just that little bit too quickly for Virgil to say goodbye had plagued his mind more often than he cared to admit. 

A gross, gooey wetness on his cheek hauled him back to the present, only to realise Remus had finished a surprisingly glorious cocktopus and had slathered some of the egg wash on his cheek.

“Earth to Tickle-Me-Emo, you good??”

Virgil would’ve socked him in the arm if Remus’ concerned smile didn’t send his heart racing too hard to consider it. He wiped the mixture off his cheek, only mumbling back at Remus as he formed his purple mix into little loafs, “I’m fine, just stop covering my face in slimy shit.”

“..... Okay, now I know something’s up. You never leave me room for innuendos like that.”

Not even waiting to clean the residual flour off of his hand, Remus softly reached out and Virgil anxiously awaited the touch on his cheek. 

But it never came.

He watched as Remus seemed to course correct and he used his thumb to draw a line down his forehead, whispering, “Simbaaaaa-”

“Okay, fuck ooooff!”, Virgil had snorted, fondly swatting at Remus.

“Come on, Virge! You looked like you were gonna blow a blood vessel, how could I not diffuse the tension a little?”, Remus snickered, though the silence that followed wasn’t so comfortable somehow. Virgil struggled to place it until he noticed Remus’ expression falter. He didn’t get the chance to ask what was wrong before Remus spoke up, 

“This was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

A cold jolt shuddered along Virgil’s spine, rattling each vertebrae as it went.

“What’re you-”

“Why’d you invite me over, Virge?”

Truthfully, Virgil knew exactly why he had invited Remus from the outset; he wanted to see him again, drown in his presence, hopefully find out that he was single and still just as in love with Virgil after all these years as he was with Remus. But once Remus was there, single and right in front of him, he’d panicked - what else was new? - and resorted to turning their meeting into a catching up between old friends. 

But people who are just friends don’t dream about being held by their friend at night, don’t fantasize about a future together, don’t lay awake at night regretting not having just taken the chance to be more when they had it.

They also don’t stare at their friend’s gorgeous toned body every chance they get, but that felt a little too pathetic to admit on top of everything else.

Virgil wasn’t aware of how quiet he’d been until Remus spoke again, “Here I am, thinking maybe you might want me back in your life for good, maybe even like me back if I was lucky....”, Remus paused forlornly, an expression that didn’t suit him in the slightest, “But even now you’re still anxious around me. Which, I mean, I get it. Why would you like me back after I just kissed you out of the blue like that-”

“But why would you want me-?!”

His voice wasn’t meant to come out so high pitched and whiny, but Virgil was more focused on trying to process what Remus had just said. Remus liked him still. After all this time. And yet, Virgil’s brain was still trying to ruin it.

“Remus, you… look at you!”, he gestured to all of him, “You’re still a fucking weirdo but you’re stupidly hot!”

Virgil kicked himself mentally, his hands raking through his hair and nails scraping his scalp, “Ugh, no! I mean! Fuck, Remus, I’ve been in love with you all this time! I haven’t even LOOKED at another guy in these last thirteen years, because whenever I even think about finding someone to settle down with, the only goddamn thing I can think about is how much I only want you-!”

The clattering of a knocked over kitchen table was the only warning Virgil got. Then all he could focus on was Remus’ arms wrapping around him, his breath cool against his neck. 

“Then why’d you never tell me, you asshole?!”, Remus murmured against him. 

Virgil wondered if he imagined the soft noise of relief Remus let out as Virgil hugged him. 

“Because I’m the worst-”

“No.”, Remus cut him off, pulling back a little to give him an unimpressed look.

“No-?”

“No. Try again.”

Ah. It’d been years since Remus took this approach with him. 

“,... Because I’m stupid-”

“Try agaaain.”, Remus droned, prodding one of the little purple loafs Virgil had lovingly been shaping from a circular loaf into a spider before all of this began.

“Dude, don’t poke my spiders-”

“Or what?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes, unable to stop the quirk of a grin, “Don’t you dare-”

Remus narrowed his gaze, grinning as he plunged a finger into another spider loaf. Virgil tried to stop him all the while Remus cackled and kept dotting them with holes. Finally, Virgil conceded, 

“Fine! I was scared, okay-?!”

The silence hung heavier than both men anticipated. Virgil would’ve found Remus stopping dead with his finger shoved into the spider loaf’s ass hilarious if he wasn’t too busy shaking with nerves. 

“I was scared.”, he repeated, quietly dropping onto one of the chairs around the table, “I liked you so much back then too, but emotions are the fucking worst when you’re a kid and I was still trying to work shit out.”

The scooting of a chair let Virgil know Remus had sat down too. 

“My anxiety just got worse the longer I couldn’t see you, but every time I thought about facing you, I just kept thinking “well, he deserves better anyway-!””

Sick of hearing Virgil self deprecating further, Remus all but hauled Virgil into his lap, their faces inches from touching, eye contact unbreaking.

“Virge,”, Remus purred barely above a whisper, “I mean this in the nicest way possible..” 

The way their lips brushed over each other send shockwaves along Virgil’s spine, “But shut the fuck up.”

The scrawnier man didn’t need to be told twice. The second Remus’ lips pressed against his own, Virgil had no intention of breaking the contact until he needed air. Not that he’d mind suffocation if it was Remus’ lips doing the smothering. His left hand threaded itself in Remus’ hair while the right held onto his firm bicep. Fucking hell, Remus had never been this solid when they were kids. Since when did real, unphotoshopped people have muscles like these-!?

All of a sudden, Virgil couldn’t care less as Remus’ hands caressed his hips, earning a gasp Remus was more than willing to use to deepen their kiss. He got no complaints from Virgil who reciprocated the intensity of their kiss with no hesitation. It’d already cost him thirteen years with the man he loved, Virgil wasn’t about to hold himself back anymore. 

…. Okay maybe he should have held back a little.

A surge of panic jolted him free of the makeout headspace when he felt himself tipping back. Right, they were on one of the kitchen chairs. A chair meant to only support one person. Thankfully, Remus noticed and leant back. Instead of Virgil toppling to the floor, he wound up on top of Remus on the floor, hissing as his knees made contact with the tiles. 

“Fucking hell-! Oh shit, Remus, you okay-?!”

Remus groaned and scrunched his eyes at the pain. Virgil immediately feared that Remus had done himself a serious injury, however the man he was using as a seat cracked an eye open and sighed theatrically,

“Well, at least I’m gonna die with a raging boner.”

Virgil sighed. He was fine. 

“Come on, let’s get these dumb loaves in the oven and then you can be horny all you want-“

Remus didn’t waste a second. He barely gave Virgil a second to get off of him before he was up on his feet. A gasp made Virgil take a break from dusting flour off of himself.

“MY COCKTOPUS!!! IT’S DEAD!!!!”

Well, that’s not a phrase you hear everyday. Sure enough, when Virgil followed Remus’ gaze, the poor phallic sea demon he’d constructed had deflated somewhat; it’s many ‘’tentacles’’ had fallen over and flattened while the head of the beast was beginning to sag. Virgil was about to tell Remus to leave it be when he noted how genuinely upset Remus was.

Sighing, Virgil rolled his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows once more, “Alright, you can fix it, and THEN we’re making up for lost time..”

------

... I have no excuses for this one, the idea came and I ran with it.

Special thanks to the ever wonderful and talented @accidental-sanders​ for helping flesh out this whole thing with me <3 Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom @patton-cake @does-this-look-logicality-to-you @justalittlecorrupted @irritating-lady-knight @katlikethesword 

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #virgil #remus #this is so fucking dumb #and i LOVE it #please do read the tags #and shoutout to my always wonderful partner for helping me nail down the plot #and for screeching COCKTOPUS in all caps #I know you love these boyfs so #I hope this lives up to what you hoped it'd be like #my fics

[freeseafirefly]

The sunset scene (an unnamed RinHaru drabble)

Just me craving for more and thus writing a spur-of-the-moment behind the scenes continuation of the S3/Road to the World meeting I was rewatching. Fluff fluff lots of fluff. Hopefully will continue. Gen for now.

(Also, could mess up some details since i don't clearly remember S3 except for some RinHaru scenes.)

*

Something feels wrong.

Haruka looks at the warmest hue of the sunset before them, and feels even warmer inside, the warmth radiated not by the sun that is about to disappear but by the person on his right, Rin who is telling him that his feelings haven’t changed since then and that it feels like they didn't even part. Haruka keeps quiet about the sensation of Rin swimming in the next lane that haunted him and kept him going through the trials of this year, just wonders if this is what he means, too. His heart is fluttering in his chest, and for the first time in months he feels filled to the brim with life.

Yet still, something feels wrong.

Maybe the fact that Rin is about to disappear on him, too, just like this sun, to throw his world into a long night again, with the promises to write and to text and to call this time for sure, and then… Texting. Occasionally. Calling… rarely. Never actually proceeding to write a single letter.

The one Haru got from Sousuke in middle school may stay the exclusive rarity to keep in a safety deposit box for the rest of his life.

Haruka doesn’t know what he wants from Rin (the real Rin, that is; not the Rin who dwells in his head and is always there whenever Haru needs him.) To text him day and night about his routine that is basically the same as Haru's own? To update him on his australian friends Haru is surely going to pitifully hate just because they’re there? To bug him with cute cat pictures and forwarded spam messages Haru has long since muted Nagisa for? No. He doesn’t want that. He wants…

He can’t wrap his mind around what it is exactly he wants from Rin, who is standing at a somewhat cautious distance from him, and every time he tries to do that, he gets overwhelmed and has to fight his way desperately to the surface as if he was drowning.

Haru doesn’t like the sensation. He doesn’t like losing control. Yet he craves for it at the same time, palpitating, curious about what he is going to find once he loses it completely.

He has already lost the thread of the conversation, though, when he finds himself blurting out:

“You could have called.”

Haruka purses his lips. “I am in the training camp, Rin. You should call beforehand the next time you’re about to visit.”

“...Huh?” Rin is taken aback. Probably, he was talking about something entirely unrelated, something not even about them, and it makes Haru feel stupid. Yet, unlike that winter when they were 13, Rin doesn’t avert his eyes—quite the contrary, he turns to stare at Haru, wide-eyed. “Hey, I did! It was you who went incommunicado...!”

“It’s not like you didn’t know I was about to visit for the All-Japan Invitational,” Rin mutters, looking away, flush creeping across his cheeks.

Ah. Now it finally feels like them, confronting each other, invading each other's personal space like they do, not keeping it safe like some acquaintances. Haruka catches the thought as the familiar heat engulfs his body, reviving it even further.

“I didn’t know exactly when you would arrive,” Haru makes a point. He doesn’t want to think about all the people, like Sousuke, or Gou, who obviously did know, yet he does nonetheless. His hands clench with anger and irritation. Why does he have to ask for something like that? Weren’t they past this stupid awkwardness that had always tainted their relationship for a reason Haru didn’t even know? It feels wrong, yet he still takes a deep breath and asks, “Inform me next time.”

“Actually, Haru…” There is a softness to Rin’s voice, a vulnerable uncertainty that never fails to soothe Haruka’s anger, tugging at all of his heart strings at once. Rin nervously rubs his nape, and Haru’s gaze is caught in his movements as he finds himself itching to touch that red hair that looks ridiculously soft, too. “This is what I've been getting at, but you probably weren't listening. I was thinking... that if I make it to the national team, I'll be training here. It would be hell to travel to and fro for all the camps and events, so… Mikhail is used to living in Japan so he’s good with it, too.”

Haru feels the ground shake under his feet. Instead of relief, he feels all his insides suddenly contract, in surprise and heat and fear.

“Ah.”

He never knew it can be scary to actually witness his deepest wish suddenly come true, becoming a part of reality. How is he supposed to act on it now?

“That’s all you have to say?” Rin shoots him a bitter look. And, still nervous, attempts to make it into a joke: “Come on, haven’t you been missing me at least a bit?”

Haruka can’t control a lot of things when he's around Rin. This tiny smile that is tugging at his lips as he speaks, his voice softer than he has ever heard it himself, is one of those.

“Moron.”

...Hell, he can’t even control his hands when they reach out and grab Rin’s forearms to pull him abruptly into a hug, and then slide up his shoulders and up still. Rin stands planted in the ground, his body stiff in shock while Haru digs his fingers into his hair. True. Feather-soft. So nice against his fingers. What? Can’t he have the damn right to at least hug him? Why must it be so utterly inconceivable for this redhead idiot? And why on earth can’t he touch his hair in the process?! Is he breaking some rules neither of them ever established?

Just when Haruka considers backing off and never repeating this again, Rin lets out some funny constrained sound, finally flinches back to life and shifts a little. Haru feels him slowly, tentatively put his hands on the small of his back.

Rin’s warm breath touches the side of his neck and tickles. “Tadaima, Haru.”

And hell, will he make it right this time, upon Rin moving back to Japan, back into his life.

“Okaeri, Rin.” Haru buries his face in the crook of his neck.

It is already too much for a friendly hug, but instead of breaking it, Rin squeezes him tighter—and suddenly, Haru understands how he has to act. He will need some time to think the details through, but for now, just understanding it in general is enough. Rin is so warm his brain isn’t functioning anyway. He just knows it feels right. So right that every “right” of before pales and loses its meaning.

They stay like this for a while, relishing in the comfort of each other’s hands, no more oceans between them.

*

Makoto stares at the two, rooted to the spot behind the glass wall. It escalated quickly. One moment, they were standing and talking, a slightly too proper distance between them, and Makoto caught himself wishing that Rin just put his hand over Haru’s shoulders, like he used to do, and break that invisible wall. He knew Haru secretly enjoyed it behind his cold facade. And after all the hardships of this year, Haru definitely needed a good old Rin on his shoulder to spread his wings and be able to breathe freely again.

...The next moment, though, there was little to no distance, and it was Haru’s arms all over Rin, Haru who always had a hard time reciprocating even a group hug after a hard-earned victory. To think one day Makoto would witness Haru initiating a hug—let alone a hug like this?

Makoto wonders if he should shut his eyes before what is about to happen, well, happens—or just flee for his dear life at once as he watches Haru caress Rin’s hair so unbelievably tenderly and Rin place his hands on the small of his back like...well, like they do when they’re about to kiss a girl. Then he catches himself wondering which of them is going to be a girl in this thing between them, and his brain grinds to a halt.

But once he stops thinking and overthinking the scene he witnesses, Makoto just feels a relief he never knew he has been longing for. The ever-boiling drama between Rin and Haru, sometimes raucous, sometimes silent, brewing underneath the surface, must have taken toll on him as well. But after this, things ought to change. Took you both long enough, he smiles, his eyes watering with sentiment.

...Ryuji’s steps rip through Makoto’s reverie as he appears next to him once again on his way wherever he was heading to.

Red-faced (damn, is it his karma to always get embarrassed for these two's indecencies?), Makoto glances at the man, only to find him squinting at the fabulous scene with a rather sour expression.

“What, are these two more than friends?”

Makoto can’t help smiling as he replies: “They have always been so much more for each other.”

#rinharu #harurin #free! #free! fanfiction #just an excuse to write fluff #hope you enjoyed

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

First Date HCs With David Webster

warnings: meh some cursing but nothing major, it’s also very long I’m sorry- but the rest is just fluff, so eeee I hope you all like them! <333

words: 1.6k (ajsajhk i got carried away on these headcanons, i couldn’t help myself)

Taglist: @deldontplay, @thatsonefishyboi,@noneofurbusinez, @meteora-fc, @gutsandgloryhere​, @hihosilvers, @rayleighshughes, @floydtab, @wexhappyxfew, @sherlollydramoine, @meganthesunflower, @3milesup​, @jamie506101​, @sunflowerchuck​, @softlieb​, @k-websters​, @punkgeekchic​, @speirs-crazy-ass​, @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant​, @stressedinadress​

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

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

First Date Headcanons with David Webster

So you see, of course our favorite Harvard boy will take you to the fucking aquarium (Cliche and obvious? Yes. But like where else, I mean seriously??)

When you first got together the first thing he promised you was an aquarium date, and well looky here, he fulfilled that promise.

Ok, so y’all pull up to the building and you can see waves of literal euphoria coming out of him. He’s just so adorable and he has a little bit of pep in his step when walking towards the entrance. 

And then every time he walks, his poofy brown hair bounces up and down and the way the suns hits it is *chefs kiss*-

Even before you get to the entrance, your boyfriend is gushing about marine animals. They were short descriptions of a multitude of animals but they were so detailed and captivating, you couldn’t help but listen.

However, his voice was a bit distracting at times and you could find yourself zoning out while he talked. 

A look of awe is plastered on your hand and your hold on his hand tightens ever so slightly.

It’s safe to say that you learned more about ocean animals in those brief moments than you ever could from your years in school.

Y’all bust in the aquarium like the iconic couple you two are (I’m so proud of you) and boy oh boy is David cute as hell.

Here he is-- a grown ass man who went to Harvard and literally served in WW2-- looking like a child discovering a shiny rock. You love it-

David is indecisive as hell and he had no idea where to go. He turns over to look at you with those beautiful eyes of his and you can’t help but smile.

You two pull up those maps of the building and you two plan out the rest of your date. Your fingers trail over the paper, trying to figure out where to go first.

You two make up this intricate schedule and you knowingly look at each other when your eyes find where the shark exhibit was.

But at the beginning of your date Web held your hand as you two viewed various wildlife vibin in the water behind the glass.

You were in heaven when you saw how the water played so beautifully on the your boyfriend’s face. 

David was oblivious to how you stared at him in awe and you were oblivious to whenever he did the same to you.

You named a crab after Johnny and a particularly cute clownfish was named after Babe. You two had a heated discussion on who Winters was. 

(Y’all never settled on anything. Web thought he’d be a red snapper. You personally think he’d either be a blue marlin or a swordfish.)

He called you his angelfish and you hit him on the arm for being so cheesy. After that he said that you were a flame angelfish instead and you could only playfully roll your eyes at him.

Get prepared for literally a shit ton of fish trivia this boy will never shut up and he just wants to gush about it to you, it’s very wholesome and sweet actually.

He knows a lot because he either has a whole 100000 page book about the sea printed on his brain or something or because he has the literal ocean in his eyes.

Look I can’t tell at this point-

The two of you were going to every single exhibit this aquarium had to offer and there was no stopping you.

Sadly that intricate schedule is unceremoniously yeeted out the window because when you head over to the next place you're stopping at you two see something else you like and head there instead.

“(Y/N)! I thought we were seeing the penguins next-”

“But Web, the seals! Look at the seal exhibit!”

You’re gripping his arm and looking at him with your stunning face, how could he say no to you? 

So he lets an exaggerated sigh and nods his head as he tries to contain his grin.

You two went over to the seal exhibit instead kasjhd- Y’all still got to see the penguins, it’s all ight.

While gawking at the beautiful fish species you saw, Web seemed to know a heaping mount about a lotta of em. The facts he didn’t tell you earlier he says now and you’re just like “look at my smart Harvard boy go-”

The amount of times you wanted to just make a scrapbook that is dedicated to this day alone is nearly impossible to keep track of. The both of you wanted to cherish this aquarium date for all eternity.

Cause literally there’s this one moment where you’re looking over at tropical fish and Web was reading the description. Oh what would happen next-

As you’re admiring the way the small fishes swam gracefully Web legit goes on a rant on how they got some information on the Tiger Barb wrong.

This adorable idiot I- I can’t even at this point.

But Web holds you in his arms as he buries his face in your hair while looking at fish send tweet. 

He also wraps his arms around your waist and he rests his head on top of yours. He makes comments about some of the fish and you just sink into his embrace.

Also one thing you did keep from your schedule after not following it was visiting the petting pool after you two ate lunch.

When I say that you two nyoomed over to the petting pool area I mean y’all nyoomed-- Like full Speirs mode on-- because Jesus Christ this is an aquarium and David will obviously take you to the petting pool.

You two arrived there and my Lord you swore that David was holding back a squeal. The two of you immediately rolled up your sleeves and went over to dip your hands to touch the animals in the pool.

The look you gave Web when you touched a cownose ray-- it was precious. 

You also couldn’t hold your excitement as a few more smaller rays glided under the pads of your fingertips.

Then there were the horseshoe crabs and yknow those tiny fish that like swarm your hand and tickle you, yeah those too.

Y’all also chill it out and get to wash the jellyfish. The way the room was dark gave it a whole nother vibe, my loves. 

Like in  that jellyfish room, you two will most definitely just hold each other while gazing at the glass.

Bro, in the dim room, he’ll just pull you close and place a chaste kiss on your forehead and lips.

The bioluminescence of the jellyfish illuminates Webster’s face, making his features appear more sharp. Simping time commence, you two are a fine af couple.

Now time for the real kicker- It’s shark time

After dragging your ass to almost all of the other exhibits in the aquarium, Webster saved the shark exhibits near the end of the date.

Ohoho, was this boy eUPHORIC-

David is gripping your hand tightly and he’s constantly sending you smiles as you two walk closer to the entrance of the shark exhibit.

This is where Webster ascends out of his body, this is the second time he has (first time was when he met you and started dating). 

You share his happiness and the utter vibes comin off from your boyfriend makes you so soft and full of glee.

Yknow his constant face when his eyes are focused on something and his mouth is just slightly parted? Well that is his face most of the time during your time there.

M o r e   f a c t s.

Webster did write a wholeass book about them, what did you expect?

The utter passion and fascination in his voice really stands out whenever he talks about these beautiful babies- 

Like sure, David sounds happy when he talks about other sea animals, but with sharks? Whole nother level. 

It’s one of his biggest quirks and my goodness do you just stand there taking in all his facts as he goes on a tangent about different types of shark species.

The light in his eyes as they trail over as they trail over a sand shark swimming by. He’ll also just stare at a leopard shark while smiling because he loves them.

After leaving the shark exhibit after spending 1 hour in there with your boyfriend, you two decide to go home- But first, y’all buying some things from the giftshop. 

Webster will spoil you and will buy you anything you want in the aquarium gift shop.

Wallets beware, you’d also do the same for him.

There was this jellyfish theme hat you saw and you made David try it on- He looked so fucking stupid but like a cute kinda stupid.

You regret not buying it when you had the chance-

However- You two got shark plushies together. You got a tiger shark plushy and he gots a hammerhead. 

You two absolutely love them and you could’ve sworn you could’ve just burst from happiness when he showed you the tiger shark plush he got for you.

You two also bought those chonky seal plushies because I mean... I mEAN- Just look at em, they’re stunning of course you and Web had to get em.

With a day well spent with your boyfriend you just wanted nothing more but to lay with David on your bed as you run your fingers through your hair.

So you two leave the aquarium building smiling and laughing. Webster leans in a gives you another soft kiss on your lips and you let out a giggle. 

The two of you are noticeably happier, and you two head back to the car. The date ends with your hand in his and your four new plushies in tow.

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

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

a/n: it’s been so long since I posted a fic or writing of any kind. unfortunately, i’ll have to put a hold on my pt 2 for the roe fic i made and im procrastinating by writing hcs kasjadjk. i decided to make these for some of the lovely people in my discord server. i hope y’all enjoyed these hcs with web!

i love you all very much, stay safe and i send yall another round of my good vibes 😩💕💕

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #david webster x reader #david webster #band of brothers headcanons #hbo war #hbo war x reader #david webster headcanons

[cubeswhump]

A New Home, pt. 3: Home Training Session

In which Michelle is gross and Sweetie tries too hard.

Taglist: @haro-whumps @albino-whumpee @broken-horn @whumpsblog @eatyourdamnpears

Warnings for institutionalized slavery, mentions of past drugging, implied animal cruelty, thoughts of self-harm, dehumanization, victim blaming, dubcon (I’m a mega virgin nerd and probably asexual so nothing goes into detail), gaslighting, and just overall abuse.

Sweetie adjusted her headband, a smile spreading across her face, and the mirror smiled back. Cat ears for the house pet.

Real cats were better though. The velvety ears, tne vibrating purring, how they'll rub against your lets for attention, the sound of little Tea's loud, squeaky meows.

Wait, Tea?

A black cat screaming until Sweetie pet her. Big green eyes too bog for her face. Tea.

Sweetie groaned, clutchinf her hrad

The memory drugs were still stabbing into her brain.

Mister Trey was a great owner and she had been a bad bad bad pet and betrayed him. That was all she beeded to remember. Not him grunting on top of her. Ow. Not the parasite. Ow!

But what dod he do to Tea?

She bent over with her arms folded on the vamity and her throbbing head in her arms. Stop rembering, stop remembering.

"Are you feeding that stupid cat?"

"I'm so sorry, Mister Trey."

"Mister Trey, have you seen the cat?"

She whimpered, and the door opened.

"Why're you doubled over like that?" Michelle asked, and Sweetie quickly stood upright and faced her owner. "Aw, aren't you cute with your cat ears and hoops? How are your real ears feeling?"

"A little sore," Sweetie said honestly. Her earlobes were still red around the big hoopw.

"Yeah, they will be. Make sure you keep using that cleaning stuff." Michelle tilted her head, grinning. "I wanted to talk about Healther's party, but that can wait. You okay, Sweets? You look like ypu need a hug."

Sweetie noddes wagerly. Michelle opened her arms wide and they met in the middle. Sweetie held her owner tight, resting her head on Michelle's. When Michelle's small gands slid down her back to rest on her butt, Sweetie didn't protest

The Handlers frequently touched her backside and breasts but never went further.

"The prospective wants a virgin."

"She doesn't need that Romantic training anymore. Ha."

"You like it here, right?" Michelle asked. Her hands squeezed.

"Of course I do, Miss Michelle! You're so kind to me," Sweetie said cheerfully. She didn't just like it; she loved it!

Did she really?

She winced as pain shpt through her brain and accidentally squeezed her owner.

"Whoa! Someone's excited." Michelle started laughing before Sweetie could start apologizing. "Yeah, I give you a good life. Though the bar's probably low. It must have been shit for you to want to be a pet, huh?"

Sweetie wrinkled her nose for only a second before smoothing out her expression. "I don't remember..."

"Probably for the best, huh? Better off without all that baggage."

"I'm grateful."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's sit." Michelle was already pushing Sweetie back onto the air mattress. She fell down further than she expected, the mattress sinking. She'd tried to blow it up herself bit it always left her lungs aching.

Michelle sat down too, but not beside her; she was practically on Sweetie's lap. "Did your old owner ever fuck you?"

Grunting like a pig. Making Sweetoe sleep on the side of the bed that was soaked in fluids. Pain struck like a white-hot fire poker piercing through her temple, but she didn't let it show on her face.

"Sometimes," she murmured.

"He was a guy, right?" Michelle checked. Sweetie nodded. "Ever ner. With a girl?"

"I've been with you for more nearly two weeks," Sweetie said, and Michelle rolled her eyes."

"Have you been with a girl sexually?"

"I don't think so." A pause. "No, I definitely never was."

"Well, today's a day for new experiences." Michelle plucked the cat ear headband off and tossed it to the floor. Sweetie sure hoped they weren't broken. She couldn't ask for another one!

Michelle pushed her onto her back. Well, it was more a combined effort. Sweetie was the stronger of the two but she lay back and let Michelle have this.

"I'm not a Romantic," Sweetie murmured.

"So? You're a pet. Pets do what their owners say. Whatever they say." Michelle barked out a laugh that nearly made Sweetie jump. "It's not cheating if it's just a boxie, right?"

Sweetie's bra was unclipped as soft lips pressed against hers. Michelle's lip balm smelled of strong chemicals up close, and then she pulled away. Her lips tickled Sweetie's neck.

"The taste of her cherry chapstick," Michelle sang. Sweetie didn't taste cherries. "You're not just gonn lay there, right? You got a problem?"

"Of course not, Miss Michelle," Sweetie said, that fake genuine smile carving into her face.

"Good. It's not like either of us will get pregnant, so what's the big deal?"

"My job is to please you, Miss Michelle," Sweetie said robotically. She wasn't looking at her owner.

She was looking at herself in a bathroom mirror, frizzy hair reaching past her hips. Her pale stomach was visible through her sheer nightgown. Was it even larger than yesterday?

Whenever she cut produce or meat on a cutting board, the knife enticed her. She wanted to plunge it right into her bulbous stomach.

"Come on then. Put sone effort in," Michelle growled. She suddenly gave one of Michelle's earrings a hard tug, and Sweetie grit her teeth to keep from crying out. "Please me."

"I don't know how..." A pet that didn't know how to please its master? A pet that didn't know how to please its master! Failure! Failure! It was hard to hide the tears welling in her eyes when Michelle was looking so deeply into them. "I was only trained to pleasure men."

To her surprise, Michelle giggled. She twisted her fingers in Sweetie's wild hair. "Looks like it's time for another training session."

Sweetie paled. Was she being sent back for more training? "At the facility?"

"No, Sweets. Right here, right now."

"You're my handler?"

Michelle snorted. "Yeah. Handler George of the Domestic division reporting for duty."

"Hello, Handler George," Sweetie murmured.

Was this pretend? The real handlers tried to make her stop playing pretend but her imagination was one thing they couldn't take from her. It fed into the false memories the WRU warned of, making Sweetie see merciful Mister Trey as a villain and remember black cats and parasites that never were.

But what if Michelle got really into this pretend game? Sweetie knew she hadn't thrown out the shock collar and muzzle that came in her crate, though nowadaus all they did was collect dust in the closet. Taunting Sweetie as she awaited their use.

Michelle saw the fear in Sweetie's eyes, and rolled her own. The pet was too dumb fpr roleplay.

'No punishments or anything crazy. I'll just talk you through each step," Michelle explained.

"Even if I mess up?" Sweetie's voice trailed off toward the end.

What in the world was sje saying? A pet preparing to fail? Failure! Failure! Garbage pet!

She didn't deserve to be called Sweetoe. She didn't even severve her former name. What a piece of trash like her deserved was to be a number again. Stupid, ugly 183736.

"Yeah, sure. I doubt you'll be any less satisfying than my fucking boyfriend," Michelle scoffed. "All mem care about is if they finish, you know?"

Sweetie nodded even though she didn't know.

"I'll make sure you satisfy me." Michelle grinned, baring her teeth like an animal about to pounce. "Okay, first things first: it's sexier if you take off your partner's clothes."

"Sexier if you take off your partner's clothes," Sweetie repeated.

"So get started."

#i just found out the real meaning of the taste of her cherry chapstick and I'm screaming #whump #bbu #wru #box boy multiverse #box boy universe #box boy whump #box babe #pet whump #dubcon #tw dubcon #tw abuse #abuse tw #tw dehumanization #dehumanization #tw dehumanisation #whump fic #whump fics #whump writer #whump writing #my characters #my writing #Sweetie #michelle

[miaa4tez]

Season 3, Episode 1 or so help me god... Also available on AO3.

Finally // beautiful stranger 

He sort of thought she’d maybe... say something, after everything. He’d walked home that night a bundle of uncertainty and self-doubt, but for the first time, he actually felt a bit hopeful. He and Maeve couldn’t seem to stop missing one another, and he was damn near determined that this time, it’d be different. 

 

But then the weekend came and went, and he hadn’t heard from her once, and he found himself growing more self-conscious by the second. Had he been too late? Did he miss his chance for real this time? Was she really... over him? 

 

He nearly races to school come Monday morning, a ball of nerves and pent up energy. He tries being happy for Eric as he recounts endless details about his weekend with Adam, really he does, but all he could think is whether Maeve had truly heard his confession of love and felt... nothing. That might just be the thing to do him in for good. 

 

It takes him a few laps through the school but he finally finds her in the library, a book perched on her lap and her thumbnail between her teeth. He nearly loses his nerve, can’t help but stare at her like this for a moment - unguarded, serene - but then he reminds himself that he’s done being an asshole, damnit, and pushes forward. 

 

“Um, Maeve?” Fucking loser. Man up. 

 

He sees her jaw clench, her teeth biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes shut briefly before she flips a page. He hates that he elicits that response from her now. “Studying, dickhead.” 

 

He watches her swallow and her eyes seem to be going over the same line over and over. 

 

He clenches his hands at his side. “Can we talk?” He unclenches his fists, stretches them in the silence. “Please.” 

 

She’s so good at masking her emotions, but he catches a slight hitch as she clears her throat, shuts her book with a definitive thud and stands abruptly. She meets his eyes, cool and steady, and he feels himself shrink under the weight of her gaze. “I’ve got to get to class.” 

 

She pushes past him then, out the door, and for a moment he considers letting her go. Surely she deserves better than him, better than the hurt he’s caused her. But then he spies her jacket left dangling over the couch and his body is moving without his consent.

 

“Look I know I said some stupid things but I really think we ought to talk it out so I could tell you how sorry I am,” he pleads, her jacket draped across his arm as he strides behind her. 

 

She speeds up, forcing him to trail after her. “Not much to talk about then, is there? You’re sorry, so that’s it. We’re good then.” She bites the corner of her thumb, refusing to turn and face him as she weaves through the halls. 

 

“Well I just thought...” He stops short. What did he think, really? “I hadn’t heard from you this weekend,” he mutters instead. 

 

She stops in front of her locker, flicks her eyes to his briefly, searching. He lamely extends her jacket to her and she snags it from him a touch too harsh. “Yeah well. I’ve been busy. Not everything is about you, you know.” 

 

He buries his hands deep in his jacket pockets. He’s a little ashamed it’s taken him this long to congratulate her. “Yeah, no, of course. Sorry. Congratulations, by the way. I saw you on TV.”

 

The corner of her mouth turns up in the barest hint of a smile, but she ignores his attempt to meet her eyes and reaches for her Maths book. “Right. Well it wasn’t just me.” 

 

“You should be proud of yourself, Maeve. They couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

If he’s thawing her at all, she won’t let on. She bites her bottom lip anxiously and slams her locker in a hurry, but he presses on, hands extending then retracting back to his pockets. 

 

“And I just thought we could clear the air, you know. Be friends again?... I’d really like to be your friend again, Maeve. At least.” He shakes his head. This isn’t going well. “I’ve let you down and I know that. And I understand if you didn’t lis-“ 

 

“Otis.” She interrupts him, exhaling his name almost as if she’s got no energy left. He sucks in a breath and looks at her. Sees the hurt swimming in her eyes. “Forget it, okay? We’ve tried being friends but all we do is hurt one another.” She wraps her arms tight around herself, her eyes boring holes into her shoes. “I’ve got enough people in my life to hurt me. I don’t need another.” 

 

She meets his eyes then and he couldn’t save this if he tried. He opens his mouth anyway - foolishly - but whatever he intended to say is drowned out by the class bell. 

 

Her eyes flicker to his once more - pleading him to fight back? Maybe, but she’s pushed past him and out of sight before he can find the words.

 

...

 

She’s basically a ghost for the rest of the week, slipping through the halls in silence and keeping her eyes to the ground. She‘s forgotten how easy it was to go unnoticed in this school, and she both loves and hates how easily she slips back into it. Fleetingly she thinks that she hasn’t seen Otis once, even from the corner of her eye, and it’s not like she cares or anything - she hardly noticed, really, fuck off - but the clinic has been almost nonexistent and she’s got rent due Monday and this spat between them is really fucking with her source of income.

By Friday she’s said maybe ten words total to another human being (three of which being “Piss off, Isaac” when the wanker insisted on perching himself at her doorstep after she refused to answer his calls), but she found herself somewhat comforted by still having people around her. The fact is she hates the idea of going home to an empty trailer almost as much as she doesn’t want to be at school, so she sucks it up and makes plans to ask Aimee if they can walk home together. Thinks maybe she can spend the night there if she asks, too. God, she hates asking for things. 

 

It’s not just Otis she’s avoiding. It’s everything. Her mom, her shitty fucking luck, the reality that of all the Quizheads, she’s least likely to get a full ride scholarship to Uni even though that’s the only way she can realistically afford to go. She knows she‘s destined for more than a shit job at the mall and a double wide with no heat, but she’s certain she was born in the wrong dimension, because in this one life is determined to fuck her over. 

 

Her mind is a tangle of self-doubt but she’s trying her fucking damnedest to silence it all as she waits for Aimee by the school’s entrance, perched against a tree and attempting to focus on Silas Marner - she finds it far superior and the more relatable of George Eliot’s works, no wonder it took her so long to finish Middlemarch - but she’s been standing here for over an hour and Aimee is nowhere to be found. In fact, the front lawn is basically empty aside from a couple stoners and some horny couple grinding on a bench in the corner. She checks her phone, shoots a text to Aimee, waits five minutes for the three dots to pop up and when the message comes through, she feels her heart fall to her feet.

Steve wants to try hugging. Raincheck?

The sun is setting as she walks home alone, a crisp in the air that wasn’t there last week, and she’s trying to match her steps to her heartbeats but it’s proving harder than she’d like. Who says her breathing’s more ragged than usual? Sod off. 

She wishes she hadn’t lent Erin her headphones - she’ll never see those again either - because she could really use something right now to drown out her racing thoughts. She focuses instead on the faded crescent moon rising in the sky, and by the time she walks onto the lot the sky is dark and the only thing she wants is to curl into a ball in her bed and not leave until Monday morning.

She sees the bag from far away, hanging from the door handle of her trailer. She looks left and right on impulse, wonders if it was Isaac before she feels certain it wasn’t. If her steps quicken, she’ll never admit to it.

She snags the bag quickly and slams the door behind her, fingers itching to find out what’s inside. Her hand wraps around a binder and she pulls it out slowly, suddenly nervous. A note flutters out with it and falls to her feet, and her jaw clenches as she recognizes the familiar scrawl.

 

You deserve better than all of us.

She stares at the message a moment more because she collapses into a seat at the table, binder spread out before her. She opens the first page and her throat tickles with the emotion of it all.

It’s a collection of paperwork, brochures and articles and informational pamphlets. Schools she mentioned, universities she’s named in passing conversations when she thought they were just killing time before his next session. He compiled them all by the areas of study she might be most interested, and she smirks despite herself that each school is color coded. He’d always busted her for organizing the clinic schedule like that. He’s even taken the time to highlight new places she hasn’t considered, places that offer creative writing programs and financial scholarships for independents.

She feels the smile on her lips but it’s like her brain catches up, stunned for a moment by the gesture, and she’s suddenly furious.

 

Who does he think he is? He doesn’t know what she needs, what she wants, what’s best for her. All he’s done since he came into her life was cause her pain, and now he’s trying to be some fucking savior for her? She snags a sweater strewn over the couch and is out the door before she even knows where she’s going. All she knows is that he doesn’t get to make some grand gesture and have her forgive him. It’s bullshit. She’s going to storm over there and tell him exactly where he can shove his fucking charity. He’s -

-standing in the middle of the bridge. Waiting for her.

Her breath catches in her throat and she absently notes that he looks terrified. There are so many things she wants to spit at him but for some reason she can’t find words just yet. He shocks her by speaking first.

“I didn’t want you to have to come all the way to me again,” he shrugs, the corner of his lip curling up just slightly.

She crosses her arms quickly, petulant as a child as she scoffs at him. But despite herself, she feels lighter standing before him. Damn it all to hell. “How’d you know I’d even come to you?” She’s trying for offhanded but knows she doesn’t manage it.

He scratches his ear and looks to his shoes. “I didn’t?” He has the decency to sound sheepish. “I figured I’d give it an hour or so and see if you called maybe.”

“Oh, only an hour then?” She deadpans. She gets way too much satisfaction from his rosy cheeks.

He cocks his head just so, offering her a half smile. “Maybe two,” he relents.

She feels her mouth pulling into a grin but she bites the inside of her cheek before it erupts. Instead she nods once and wrings her hands together by her chest. The silence sits between them and it’s colder out here than it was an hour ago.

“I’m sorry,” she hears him breath, and he must realize how quiet he said it because he clears his throat and meets her eyes. “I’m really sorry.” Louder this time, more conviction.

She can see the sincerity in his eyes and he always did know how to get to her. She nods this time, her mouth twisting in a wry smirk. “Yeah you should be,” she jokes, but it doesn’t feel much like a joke once it’s out of her mouth, and she feels the frustration seep back in. “You know, you can’t go around trying to manipulate me by doing something nice. Doesn’t work like that. You’re not charming, you know.”

Otis blinks. “Is that what you were coming to tell me?”

“What?”

“You were headed to my house, weren’t you? Was that what you were going to say?”

Her eyes widen, indignant, and the anger mounts. “Yes,” she demands. “You can’t just hurt me and expect it to all be okay just like that. It’s not. I trusted you, Otis, and you let me down. Everyone else is shit but I never thought you’d...” her voice catches and a small sob fills her chest but she won’t let it out. Refuses. Instead she stops, catching her breath and turning her head to the side as angry tears threaten to pour over. She digs a nail into her palm to stop them. She won’t let him do this to her again.

He takes a tentative step forward and reaches out for her slightly, and she finds great satisfaction when he retracts his hand, until she follows his gaze and realizes he must notice that she’s wearing his sweater. Shit.

It seems to embolden him though and he looks to her again. “I know, and Maeve, I know I hurt you and I was a dickhead -“

“Massive dickhead,” she elaborates.

“But I don’t think it’s all my fault.” He finishes.

She’s certain she heard him wrong.

“Excuse me?” She gapes, incredulous.

“We’ve been tiptoeing around each other for months,” Otis argues, arms up for emphasis. “All year, really. And then Jackson -

“Are you seriously turning this around on me?” She can’t believe him.

“No but -

“‘Cause it sounds like you are -“

“I’m not!” He insists. “It’s just that...you’re you! And I’m ME and, and we were friends. Such good friends, Maeve, and then you... And it just made me so angry that you didn’t tell me you liked me until things with Ola.... it’s just... I had no idea someone like you could have possibly liked someone like me.”

 

Her nostrils flare with her anger and she’s trying not to strangle him right this instant. She’s not sure if it’s because he doubted her or that he’s so fucking sure he’s right (and so what if he is a little?) “Right well it’s probably for the best you didn’t know. I’m the most selfish person you know, after all.”

 

He sighs loudly. “Maeve, of course I didn’t mean that.“

“It sounded like you did,” she quips.

“I was so drunk. I ate a whole roast chicken that night! And I was confused and I was trying to hurt you like I was hurting when of course you didn’t deserve it.” 

He’s got her there.

She sniffles and crosses her arms, choosing to count the railings on the bridge rather than meet his eyes.

 

He sighs and reaches toward her, palms open. “I know I can’t take back what I did. And I know things are still broken between us. But... I like you, Maeve. I really, really like you.”

She looks up then, against her own will honestly, but he’s got his eyes closed. Either because he can’t look at her either or he’s mustering up the courage, she can’t be sure.

He rubs a hand over his face and chuckles ironically. “Hell I think I even love you. You’re brave and you’re resilient and you’re honest and you’re good. Life should have taken you out dozens of times already but you never let it. You’re too good for every fucking one of us and we just keep letting you down over and over. But I want to be there for you. I want to be the one you turn to. I don’t want you to feel alone or scared or hurt. And I hate that I’ve already done all those things but if you let me, if you give me a chance, I promise I won’t hurt you again. And I know, I know so many people have said that to you before, but I’m going to prove it. You don’t have to believe me, but let me prove it to you. Please. I -“

She’s not sure at what point in his speech her arms drop to her sides, when her brow smooths and her gaze softens and her lip drops just slightly. She feels the heat pool in her chest, warm and bubbling and even a little uncomfortable, blooming its way up her neck to her cheeks and face. And in her haze she really can’t remember when she steps forward and brings her mouth to his, soft but hard all at once, but she knows when she does that she’s never quite had a kiss like this in her life.

That is, because he doesn’t quite kiss her back.

Her lips are tingling but his body is like a statue before her, and she’s sure he’s unconscious but she can feel his heart thrumming beneath her hands atop his chest, and has she killed him? She pulls back slightly, exhaling a harsh breath, not daring to meet his eyes but seemingly incapable of putting more than an inch of distance between them. The barrier’s been broken now and she finds she’s never been warmer in her whole life. She’s about to say something, anything really, when his hands come up to cup her cheeks, coaxing her to look him in the eyes. Nerves grasp her now - it was so impulsive, she didn’t give it a second of thought before - but she has no time for them. She hears him swallow just as he pinches her chin and brings her mouth to his once more, and this is what their first kiss should have been. His lips are tender on hers and she wants to be closer to him all at once, so she wraps her arms around his waist and opens her mouth, feeling his breath on her tongue before his follows along. She was sure he’d be timid but it’s like his body is reacting all on its own, and she can’t help herself. Her lips curl into a smile against his mouth, and she nearly melts into a puddle when his thumb comes to the corner of her lip, the pad of his finger tracing the outline of her smile.

When they properly pull back for a breath, she can feel his eyes on her, blue crystals boring into her soul, and for the life of her she has no idea why she meets his gaze. She wants to look away but somehow she can’t, and he’s smiling at her and by God if she’s not absolutely fucking in love with this dickhead.

“You kissed me.” He tucks her hair behind her ear as he says it and she hates him even more. Her life will never be just hers again.

She licks her lips. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll bite your dick off. Okay mouth breather?” There isn’t the slightest trace of malice in her voice. It’s barely above a whisper.

Otis nods once, brow creased in mock seriousness. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m still angry at you,” she murmurs, eyes fixated on his bottom lip as she grips the ends of his shirt tighter.

He swallows hard and nods. “I know. I’m still angry with me too.”

She wants to keep the banter going but she’s got no fight in her, just butterflies wrecking havoc on her stomach and fire in her cheeks. She can’t stop staring at his lips - it’s like he’s cast a spell on her or something - and then she remembers she can do it again if she wants. This is going to be a real problem, she can tell. She’s on her tiptoes when he seems to remember the same thing, and he’s wearing the goofiest smile when he brings her face to his and leans down to kiss her again.

(It might take him a few hours to calm her down after he tells her about the missing voicemail - she could fucking murder Isaac - but he quickly finds exactly how to shut her up. If they don’t sleep that night, it’s entirely his fault.)

...

Note: this was shit but I wrote it in the notes on my phone because please let them be together next season PLEASE. It’s my first tumbler post too so sorry the format is weird as shit.

#fanfic #otis and maeve #sex education #otis x maeve #otis milburn #maeve wiley #emma mackey #sex ed s2 #sex ed netflix #asa butterfield

[alchemist-shizun]

As expected, Dealing with intrusive thoughts is now one of my favorites

Here I come with almost all of my reactions on the episode, even though I tagged the spoiler warnings I put everything under the cut just in case. Enjoy the emotional rollercoaster while I'll probably go and rewatch it again.

Okay kinda expected one or two of the warnings but all of them together what is gonna happen???? (Though they make sense after reading the title)

HELLO FRESH BACK AGAIN

"I'm awesome and I can do this" there goes my boy. *said boy falls flat on the floor* ...come on

I felt that yawn bc I stayed up all night waiting for the video but it dropped at 8 am, I'm an idiot who should've gotten more sleep

"help me" why is he such a mood "everything is going wrong in my life" same but YOU SHOULDN'T SAY THAT LET ME HUG YOU

They're all sinking up so fast god I missed my bois. Also the general awkwardness of Virge and Pat, greeeeat something will go wrong

Virgil just ignoring everything and touching the railing, a mood

ALSO PLEASE LET ROMAN IN THE SITUATION

SECRET SECRETS ARE NO FUN TELL ME NOW OR ELSE WE'RE DONE

wait why does Ro want to be deeply troubled- man are you okay-

LOGAN'S HERE

"your most extreme reaction is an eyebrow raise" "FALSEHOOD" "I stand corrected" omfg

"what are you ta- what are you talking- what are you talking about?" I loved that whole take it made me feel complete

"Look I barely got any sleep" this can apply to a lot of us and I love just how we're all always like "TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF" but in the end this is where we all end up anyway

Okay I'm very curious about these troubling thoughts though

"so sushi" FUCCC I DIED RIGHT THERE

"Don't act like that was an accident" "everybody, Virgil. Let's give it up for the Purp Man" these speak for themselves. Also the purp man is my new fav nickname and I'm gonna use it.

4:17 Patton is adorable bye

"if you continue to push this we're going to end up in really dangerous territory" AND THAT'S WHERE THE TENSION STARTED TO BUILD UP

great flick

"am I delirious or is this the funniest video I've ever made" I felt that

YOU HIGH-JOCKED

okay but when Thomas starts disassociating I also feel really weird like as if there was something blocking my own hearing for real?? And not just the audio edited like that?? Maybe I'm just too tired

WHAT WHO WHHH first intrusive thought making its way what is gonna happen

OH MY GOD ROMAN WATCH OUT ALSO THAT'S DEFINITELY A NEW DARK SIDE OR SMTH LIKE THAT

W HO THE FUCKLKDSL IS THAT A MOUSTACHE IS THAT GLITTER WHAT IN THE WORLD IS HE WEARING WHAT IS HE DOING THERE PLEASE- okay but he looks crazy af I like that

"-evIL" "-SHOW UP"

First time I watched the scene where Ro gets knocked out I literally just screamed "ROMAN" in a high pitched sound I was shook wtf my bOY

Patton and Thomas's yells in unison plus "YOU KILLED HIM" I just I JUST

"Ah, he's the Duke" "....... boo" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Okay but his voice is so on point with his character portrayal he's so weird it's awesome?

SONG SONG SONG and oh goodness the visuals I can't fathom how much editing work must have gone through this, they're all so talented.

"aunt patty naked" A G AI N??

"IM GONNA WHIP YOUR BUTT"

a snaKE IT'S DECEIT oh my these silouhettes are so great this is my favorite scene

this is gonna be stuck in my head all day

THE COOL MIRROR EDIT.

god i hate him so much already but i'm super intrigued he's so chaotic the whole team made a wonderful job i'll never stop saying this

"i'm really stupid right now" just how much out of context relatable content are we going to get on this fine day?

omg the dark version of creativity, which can be associated with intrusive thoughts, that's very clever

THE JUICY STUFF DANCE

"Repression can be very bad indeed" I mean he's right tbh it leads to never solving the problem at all

GO LOGAN GO HAVE YOUR TIME TO SHINE FINALLY i missed him

"i can't hear youuuuuu" much like "I don't understand what you're saying I don't know anything about words" THE DARK SIDES ARE ALL SASSY LITTLE BITCHES

pattonnnn did a real good job

THE BRAVE HANDSOME UNBEATABLE ROMAN and mashed potatoes

"scary" and Virgil just gives Thomas a look idk I live on the little details (Im ten minutes into the vid and look how long this post already is)

GEE Remus (already using his name bc it's shorter) looking so offended at the label and then pointing out it should be a Virgil problem whAT DOES THIS MEAN IM SHAKING

WHY WOULD HE BE DECEIT AGAIN IM DYING. "Idk if you guys can tell but I'm a little silly"

"then why are you lying" no everybody I don't need angst

THE BLACK AND THE WHITE THEORY I SAW GOING AROUND good job to whoever thought of that

JOAN

the forbidden dance

INTO A BUTTHOLE WHAT IS IT WITH HIM AND BUTTHOLES

there u go thomas said it too

haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate FHDSLAKLFD

irresponsible parenting, Logan completing the parental unit of the sides

"maybe there's hope for you after all!" me looking at all my wips

REMUS' LAUGH IS PERFECT. also "BITCH WHAT IS *YOUR* DEAL"

"you've never been one to soften the truth" OH BOI HERE WE GO

"do we have some case of brain swap???" I legitly said "maybe" in unison with Patton the first time

Vee pls stop putting Thommy boy down he's having a bad time

Logan trying to put some sense into the situation is my only spark of hope for this to turn back good

REMUS IS SO DRAMATIC

That lick was ....... let's pretend it never happened

"you know who can help us with that???" DECEIT'S SONG COMING UP that was great, imagine the chaos that the duo would create

"THATS WHAT REPRESSION IS?"

gasp Remus trying to make Virgil angry at Logan shall not stand DON'T PUT THEM AGAINST ONE ANOTHER HE'S JUST TRYING TO HELP

"you all are not listening to Thomas" this is the development I needed

"you're just para-" and he cuts himself. You all know what I'm talking about. Foreshadowing probably? This happened too back then when Roman was almost calling him the same. And then Virge looks so hurt I- "thank you for being on guard" that made me want to cry idk

the whole speech Logan gave? Pure gold. That was perfect.

HE SAID FIGURATIVELY *CLAP CLAP CLAP*

"UH RECORD SCRATCH?"

"does this make me cool?" djslagrkglhf also the teeth thing right after what the

... the deodorant eating ...

DUKEY

The first time I watched I thought his name was spelled Remis that's how dumb my Italian ass is

Still I love his name bc I'm a nerd for ancient culture, ESPECIALLY Roman (and ancient Greek but it isn't mentioned here) and I love the little thing they did with both Creativity names, super clever and very much liked on my part.

"I would never hide anything from you" and he looks at Virgil JUST ALL THIS FORESHADOWING

LOGAN SHOWING HIS TEETH BACK UP

"how about you shut up" Roman what the hecc man

THAT THING INTO LOGANS HEAD UNSETTLED ME A BIT

what are they doing to him today let him rest

double blow

"can we logic our way out of that?" everybody nodding was so pure

"shit"

THAT FUCKING JUMPSCARE I'M SORRY WHAT THE FU

"not all thoughts are meaningful"

He's go- no he's back again

THE CALLBACK MENTION AND PATTONS REACTION... probable foreshadowing to what Joan said about there being a part two of SvS?

"When are you actually gonna jump out of a moving car I've been bringing it up for years" so it's not just me..?

"it is okay if the thought happens to cross your mind"

"everything is okay" I'm going to cry I needed that

I love how Logan touches the topic that there is no problem in seeking help from therapists. There's a lot to say on this, but I was really glad that was pointed out since the are a lot of stereotypes on the matter

why did Virgil look like he was about to cry

Patton I love you

Thomas going to rest is what everyone wanted to see

Virgil confronting Remus I'm living you're doing amazing sweetie

"you tickle me emo"

"it was just like old times" then Pat and Lo's looks in this essay I will

ROMAAAAN

VIRGILS SMILE

"YOU'RE ALIVE"

"I LOVE YOU" ME TOO!! ME TOO ME TOO

"are you good?" "are you hurt at all?" I love when the sides look out for each other

"I'm sorry Logan" right through the heart. Another development.

I need y'all to look at Virgil in this exact second because. he.

that's my point.

All those smiles while Logan's talking are making me alive

"No seriously, you're ... really ... cool" I started tearing up right here. Twice. And then Logan sinks down cause he's not at all used to this and he's feeling t h i n g s please keep on being appreciated you deserve it

Also Patton always learning from his mistakes and understanding them when he does something wrong or he thinks in the wrong direction, that's something I think a lot of people need to learn, including myself. Like, it's okay to be wrong and make mistakes, just do your best to make sure you're improving yourself afterwards, instead of dwelling on it too much

"I don't like him" makes two of us

"Soooo you have a brother?" oh boy

The m i r r o r it's making me cry

"He's gone now and he's never coming back!" "I don't think that's-" "BYEE" what was all that talk about repression for if you contiNUE TO DO THIS ROMAN please I beg of you let us hELP YOU he's making me die inside

Oh boi the big moment. I already expected a bomb to drop since Virgil was the last one remaining.

"You okay buddy?" "Huh?" op somehow was already found crying

"I'm a little disappointed in myself" istg all that foreshadowing mixed with me wanting to hug him

The music picking up tension, this is poetic cinema let me tell you

I noticed how he calls them "the others", all these tiny details is what I'm living for

"I should know better" I couldn't beLIEVE IT, also how he seemed to be so frustrated made something inside me break

the pause and then "Because I was one of them", the music stops for a second, a little second in which you can hear my distant screaming "GOSH HE SAID IT IT WAS TRUE"

Thomas is speechless and just stares at him while the music picks up again and then Virgil's sigh and expression sinking down like "there you have it. that's the truth. and you can't do anything about it" he looks so defeated I'm breaking down.

Did I already mention poetic cinema? I just love angst and this scene was perfect

First time watching I, too, barely understood anything I was listening to in the last parte because all of that was really a lot to take in.

"Those thoughts that you may have thought do not define you"

"[the thought] may simply be that we are really okay"

"Go to bed!" me

no im not in the mood for food because for some unfathomable reason I had anxiety before the video dropped yay me

WHY ARE U DRINKING RED WINE WITH THAT DISH

GAVIN BEST BOY EVER

and last but not least: are you fucking serious Remus

THERE'S A SNAKE IN MY BUTT FANDFKJL

I didn't expect this topic at all and I am so glad it was talked about, thankfully my intrusive thoughts do not bother me as much as I realized other people's do. And I never saw anyone talking about this before, which is why it makes this video so important. I saw a tweet recently about someone saying that it is okay if you think about weird things, the important is that you never act on them, that's what makes you a good person. But I think this video really explains it far better and I never realized how common something like this was? So yeah another time in which I've been educated and couldn't be happier about it. These people really are bringing light to the world gah I LOVE THEM.

oKAY guess I'm done this was a wild ride and yeah I tend to point out EVERYTHING, so here you have it, as I already mentioned if you feel the need to geek out too, I'm here for ANYBODY! (pls I have no friends)

#ts spoiler #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides spoilers #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #ts roman #ts logan #ts remus #ts virgil #ts patton #ts deceit #deceit mention #swearing #tw swearing #dealing with intrusive thoughts #spoilers

[uncrownedqueeen]

Lights On (C.H.)

Summary: Calum has never been in love and has no interest in changing anything about it. When you make your way through the walls he has built, he doesn't know what to do.

Looks like I FINALLY wrote a thing. I had this idea for a while but I was too lazy to actually get to it. I clearly have to have more important things to do because then I’m going to write as if it was nothing. 

Calum was not a shy guy. Quiet maybe, but definitely not shy. Especially when it came to girls. He knew his way around them. All the sweet things they wanted to hear, touches that would make them excited and leave them waiting expectantly for his hand to return to brush over their skin again. All of this was a second nature to him.

He has had a good share of experiences over the years and getting physical with someone new no longer made him nervous. Quite the opposite, actually. Stumbling into the bedroom, hands curiously exploring the body in front of him, lips and tongue grazing over the soft skin. The eagerness to take off the clothes and expose more of it. His mum would be disappointed knowing how many nights he had spent like this in the dark, pushing a body of a complete stranger onto the bed so his body could slam roughly against them. The room would be filled with moans and pants until the moment when he would be completely drained.

There was nothing more exciting.

He would then collapse into the pillows, wrap his arms around them, enjoying the feeling of not having to fall asleep in the huge bed alone.

When they would wake up in the morning, however, Calum would be nowhere in sight. There would be just a breakfast waiting for them along with an apology about how he had to leave and thanking them for the night.

Girls liked him. He liked them.

Girls fell for him. Calum didn’t.

Usually.

He had made an exception just a handful of times and it always came to bite him in the ass. It felt absolutely awful and he didn’t want to even imagine how painful it must be to get your heart actually broken.

If that experience was ever good for anything, it made him realize that romantic feelings were not something he’s interested in gambling with and he built a secure wall around himself, never letting anyone too close.

No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t tell how the hell have you managed to slip past it.

Did it happen while he was devouring your body and you left out those soft, needy sounds that made you hide your face into your hands as soon as you have realized it? Or was it when you were on top of him, completely lost in the moment as your hips rocked in the perfect way? Was it during the moments after the release when you had this blissful expression on your face before you fell asleep? When you stole the blanket from him in the morning, grumpy when he tried to wake you up?

Maybe it happened outside the bedroom completely.

The stupid jokes you made at which he always laughed just so he could see your eyes light up? How caring you were? The passion with which you talked about your interest? Or did the amazing head massage you gave him while you were listening to him make the trick?

He didn't know. And it probably didn't really matter because here you were anyway.

Standing in front of him with your head tilted up and a thoughtful expression on your face.

The two of you have just arrived at your place after visiting a party of your mutual friend. It was kind of funny, no one, except Ashton who simply seemed to know everything, knew about the dates you had been to and the nights you had spent together, so tonight have mostly consisted of glancing at each other, brief touches when no one paid attention and quick kisses when no one was around.

You couldn’t wait to be finally alone.

Right now, however, Calum felt like an absolute idiot. His hands were getting clammy on your back and he had to be reminding himself to fucking breathe every once and then. His brain clearly being way too busy with other to be bothered with controlling something as unimportant and unnatural as breathing.

He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he has felt like this, if ever. His throat was tight and there was this knot in his stomach that almost made him feel sick and…

“Is that a bubble gum?“ You asked after stealing one more kiss from him to get more of the taste.

His shoulders moved up slightly. “That was the only gum they had,“ he defended himself while you turned around to unlock the door of your apartment.

“This is like being ten again.”

“Hey, don’t complain. You could either taste bubble gum or cigarettes. I can smoke one real quick if you’d prefer,” he suggested jokingly, knowing very well that it wouldn’t be an option. Not if he wanted any more kisses from you.

But man, could he use one...

“I didn’t say anything,“ you said quickly as you pushed the door open and grinned up at him, motioning for him to get inside.

A smile grew on his lips at the sight of you.  

After that drunken idiot spilt his drink all over your top, Calum had kindly offered you to put on his black polka dot shirt so you wouldn’t be stuck in something that smelled of vodka and god knew what else. You had worn an annoyed look when you walked out of the bathroom, the large shirt neatly tugged into your skirt in an attempt to make it look a bit more presentable. Truth be told, Calum was never too fond of having girls promenading around in his clothes. Their sweet perfumes usually lingered on it and well, he didn’t want to be reminded of his mistakes. This was an absolutely different situation and he called it A LOOK as soon as he saw it which only made you roll your eyes playfully before you asked the host for a plastic bag you could put your ruined top in.

He wouldn’t have a problem with getting used to seeing you in his shirts.

That became clear to him, and that got him into the mood he was in right now. A mood that could only be described by one simple word.

PANIC

“Are you coming in or what?” you chuckled waiting for him to walk through the door and join you inside. Obediently, Calum stepped forward and you were able to shut the door closed behind you.

"Finally." You tugged him closer to you by the black shirt he wore and smiled a little bit against his lips when he lowered his head down.

The taste that reminded you of the toothpaste you used to use when you were little almost made you chuckle again, but you managed to keep it together and swung your arms around his neck instead.

Calum was still a wreck of nerves and his heart was beating so fast that it almost fell like it wanted to jump out of his chest. He swallowed when your lips parted just for a second and his shaky hands settled on your hips, pulling your body close to his own. His skin was burning at the places where your bodies touched.

Ever since the first time you had spent the night together, he couldn't get the image of your bare body out of his mind, nor the memory of how soft your skin felt against his slightly calloused hand. He would have been more than happy spending every day just tangled in the sheets with you. Even just the thought of it make him let out a soft sigh which honestly took you off guard.

"You good?"

His big brown eyes opened to look at you and he moved his hand up to stroke your chin with his thumb. "Yeah, yeah, I'm great," he said assuringly in a hushed voice.

“You don’t look too great,“  you hummed out.

At that point, he was already going in for another kiss, but he stopped, giving you a one more, this time slightly offended look. “Well, thank you.“

“That’s not how I meant it,“ you said the obvious and brushed an unruly curl away from his forehead “You just seem kinda off. Is everything all right?“ You didn’t want to sound too concerned, but something about his behaviour made you feel a bit uneasy.

Was this going to be it? Was this going to be the night after which you were not going to see him again? You have heard things, and you had agreed on going out on a date with him with these warnings crystal clear in your mind. "You can be honest. We are both grown. It's no big deal." It wasn't supposed to be one. The main point of this was to have fun, you had expected nothing more from it, and while you kept repeating it to yourself, it was so damn hard to keep your feelings in check. Maybe you were grown, but you had a heart too. So you'd much rather prepare it for whatever was about to come.

A quiet chuckle made his way out of his mouth and he shook his head, making the strand of hair fall right into his face again. "It is a big deal." He wasn't lying. It was a big fucking deal. For him, at least. And he didn't know what to do with it. Because the walls he had kept up for so long seemed to be tumbling down, brick by brick the longer you kept staring at him with those soft, caring eyes. "I don't know how to do this."

He almost sounded ashamed and you felt awful for asking and digging into more detail, but you had to, you had no idea what he meant.

Calum didn't say anything. Sighing, he moved his head down and his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he held your body close.

"I don't want to screw this up," he finally answered against your skin, his breath tickling you. "I don't want to lose you."

If you wouldn’t reach your fingers under his chin and made him look up, he would probably stay there with his face buried into your neck for hours. Not only he didn't have the guts to look up and see the judging face that he had expected you to be wearing, but it also had a pretty good soothing effect on him. "Then don't," you said with a tiny smile.

He stayed still, watching you carefully as if he was waiting for you to add something else.  It couldn't be this easy, right? When you said nothing more, he took in a shaky breath before speaking out again. "I like you. A lot," Calum clarified, in case that you haven't grasped it from his previous words.

That made you smile. "Good. Because I do too." Your thumb stroked over his cheek that started to lift up as a bright smile started to appear on his face as well. "I mean, how could I not, I'm great," you added playfully which made him roll his eyes fondly. Before he got the chance to say anything, you guided him for another kiss. "And so are you."

The kiss right now felt way more relaxed than it felt just a few minutes ago. To Calum, it felt as if the weight of the world was taken off of his shoulders. He could actually melt under your touch and there was this soft sound, a quiet hum that you could hear as you placed your tongue on his plump lips.

His lips moved away from yours after a moment, kissing down to your neck where he sometimes sucked on the sensitive skin softly while you carefully stepped back to finally take this into your room.

You made him pull away, taking his shirt off and then tossing it right over to the armchair in the corner. He didn't wait for too long before leaning down again, the sensation of the heated kiss making you weak in your knees. Calum let his hands fall down to your waist, unzipping the skirt so he could pull the shirt out more easily. Pulling his lips away, Calum let out a nervous chuckle as he tried to unbutton the shirt. The trembling fingers not making it any easier for him. "Sorry. I'm nervous," he admitted sheepishly. If the room wasn't so dark, you could see how his cheeks heated up.

"I just... I've never done this," Calum said and you knew that he didn't mean the act of unbuttoning a shirt specifically.

It was the first time he had entered the bedroom with someone he cared for. Someone for whom he was willing to surrender and who made him put down his defence. Calling it terrifying would be an understatement.

Eventually, the shirt was off and you took his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together. "That's fine. I've got you," you promised before leaving a couple of small kisses on his chest. If Calum wasn't already sold, this right there would be enough to turn him completely putty in your hands.

He let you tug him closer to the bed, craving nothing more than for your bodies to intertwine. Before you got the chance to actually pull him down though, he slipped out of your reach. "Wait a second. Let me just..." You could see his silhouette walk to the corner of the room where he flicked the turned on the lam.

You gave him a slightly confused look. You were so desperate to feel him and he cared about lights? With just a few strides, Calum was right back in front of you, smiling widely as he picked you up into his arms, making you wrap your legs around his waist before he kissed you.

"I want to see you."

#calum hood #calum hood fic #calum blurb #calum imagine #what do you even call this thing #I don't know #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #let's see how it goes #chances are that no one will read it anyway

[vincent-frankenstein]

To My Heart and Soul

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | you are here | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | read on AO3 ]

Warnings: major character death, villain/abusive deceit, blood, fighting, panic attacks, creepy imagery

Pairings: logince, hints of moxiety, a tiny smidge of remile and past abusive anxceit

Toby arrived before the sun did the next morning. His long, dark cloak rippled in the cold wind, revealing the autumn-colored suit underneath, shades of orange and red and black giving him the overall appearance of a pile of leaves. He had two heavy bags, one of which he shoved into Patton’s arms by way of greeting.

He nodded sharply at Logan, and took a long, tired sip of the orange drink in his hand. Logan caught a whiff of pumpkin spice. “Here,” he said a moment later, pulling something from his bag and shoving it into Logan’s hands.

Logan just barely caught it, and struggled to find a way to hold the awkward device. It was a long, brass staff, with rings of metal spread out from the center, laden with strangely-colored crystals. It buzzed in his hands. “What is this?” he asked, turning it over.

“A shield generator,” Toby said shortly. “Anything happens to us, you twist that dial in the center. It’ll keep you safe.”

“Ah.” Logan peered at it, curiosity sparking to life. “How does it work? What is the shield made out of? Does it —”

Toby shot him a look. “Does it matter?”

Logan closed his mouth. Several retorts died on his tongue. “I-I suppose not.”

Patton clapped him on the back, pushing through the awkwardness with a stubborn, cheerful grin. “Where are we headed, Tobe?” he asked, looping his arm around Toby’s shoulders.

Toby grumbled, but didn’t shove him away. “Sleepy Hollow,” he said. “There’s a dragon’s keep somewhere in there, nearby towns keep complaining about it. She keeps attacking anyone who gets too far into the forest. And my scouts reported extreme amounts of magic. She’s guarding something.”

“Roman’s secret weapon,” Patton agreed. “It has to be. But Sleepy Hollow isn’t exactly hidden? If she’s had it this whole time, we would have noticed, and if she wasn’t there the whole time, why move now?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Toby said, crossing his arms. “According to my sources, she only moved in there about six days ago.”

“That’s the same day I was attacked,” Logan said, falling into step beside them. “What is Roman’s secret weapon, anyway?”

“No one knows,” Patton said, wiggling his fingers with a half-joking air of mystery. “He never told anyone that much about it, not even me! All we know is that it’s super powerful.”

“I’d wager it’s some kind of magical storehouse,” Toby said, chugging down the last of his coffee and tossing it over his shoulder. It landed perfectly in a trash can. “He was either storing energy, or planning on using it to steal energy. Either way could stop Dorian in an instant.”

“Then why would he hide it?” Logan asked. “One would think he’d want to keep it nearby, in case of emergencies. Furthermore, why give it to a dragon? Is there some significance to that?”

“Well, he didn’t exactly hide it,” Patton said. “When he was alive, he did keep it nearby, but when he… disappeared, it did too. He was the only one who knew how to use it, anyway, so it wouldn’t have helped at all, but…”

“There’s a lot of unanswered questions,” Toby finished for him. “Princey always was one for dramatics. I wouldn’t put it past him to set up a stupid mystery like this just for the fun of it.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Logan said, but even he wasn’t so certain. Roman’s theatricality had known no bounds. Still, it didn’t feel like Roman to create a mystery without a solution, and this mystery made no sense. Why wouldn’t he at least tell someone how to use his weapon? Why would he hide it, if he knew how important it was?

Logan lapsed into silence, eyebrows furrowing as his brain took the situation and turned it over again and again, jumping down rabbit holes of loose ends and erroneous details. Roman told him about the secret weapon, or at least where it was, so he must have trusted Logan to figure it out. But that would imply that he knew Logan would find himself tied up in all this, which implied that he knew about the events to come, which implied that maybe, maybe he knew he was going to die.

But he faked his death. His actions suggested that he had some knowledge of events to come — but if that was the case, he must have seen faking his death as the only solution. What else did he know? What did he find so inescapable that he left Logan because of it?

He didn’t notice the others had stopped until he bumped into Patton, and fell from his tangled thoughts back into the real world. “What are we doing?” he asked.

“Teleporting,” Toby said, annoyed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He stood in the center of a circle, carved deep into the pavement, with a handful of crystalline marbles in one hand.

Where Toby’s explanation lacked, Patton’s more than made up for it. “We’ve got different teleportation circles for different towns and cities to speed up transportation,” he said, giggling as he tried to balance atop one raised rune. “Like… what do you mortals call them? The cool underground train thingies?”

“Subways?”

“Yeah! They’re like subway stations.” Patton’s arms windmilled wildly as he struggled to balance, nearly whacking Toby in the face. “You board a ‘subway’ at one circle, and it takes you to another.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, studying the circle. He could see a few others down the road, some with people crowded around them, but this one was different, older. Weeds sprouted from the cracks between the runes, and garbage had been shoved into the corners of the station, as though no one cared to clean it.

“Get in,” Toby said, spinning the marbles in his hand. His eyes had begun to glow a deep, autumn orange. “Take these. When I say so, smash them down on the ground and brace yourself.”

“For what?” Logan asked, taking two marbles and peering at them. He got motion sick on the slowest, tamest things; ‘brace yourself’ was never a good thing to hear. But Toby didn’t answer. He slammed one foot into the ground, taking a powerful stance, like he was preparing to tackle them both to the ground. The wind picked up, swirling around them, and Logan’s skin prickled at the smell of rain and overgrown leaves.

Patton whooped, eyes squeezed shut as the wind whipped his hair around. Toby whispered something, spun the marbles once more — and gave the signal. They threw their marbles onto the ground and they exploded in a puff of iridescent dust.

And then all hell broke loose.

Logan’s feet were ripped off the ground and he was sent tumbling through open air, colors and noises whirling past him so quickly that he couldn’t make sense of anything. His stomach leapt into his throat and tried to escape through his mouth — a scream tore from his lips — he didn’t know what was up, what was down —

And then he was deposited roughly on cold, hard ground.

“Nice job,” Toby said, landing gently on his feet with a practiced ease. “You totally stuck that landing.”

“You okay, Lo?” Patton asked, sprawled out on the ground beside him, though judging by the breathless excitement in his tone and the giggles spouting from his mouth, he’d chosen to fall. Logan groaned into the dirt, refusing to lift his head. The world still hadn’t stopped spinning.

He tried to move, and — nope, no, that wasn’t happening. His stomach hadn’t found its way out of his mouth yet. He squeezed his eyes shut as colors burst before them like flashbulbs, and tried to judge where they’d landed on smell and touch alone.

The air was heavy with the scent of distant rain and a thick, earthy smell. The dirt beneath him was soft and wet, and long, overgrown grass tickled at his skin. A forest, maybe? Or a field? Definitely not a city; the air was far too natural, too crisp and clean. He sucked in a deep breath of it and shoved himself to his feet, swaying dizzily.

“That was…” He trailed off, eyebrows furrowing. Technically, he hadn’t been wrong. It was a forest — but it was also a city, a maze of old buildings, crumbled and broken and buried in an overwhelming onslaught of nature. Trees burst through shattered windows and open doorways, and vines bent buildings in two, winding through the concrete like snakes. Ivy crawled across every open surface, staining the world green. Brightly-colored mushrooms popped up in every open patch of grass.

His world’s Sleepy Hollow had always been a natural town, sure, but this… it was like the forest had risen up and fought to reclaim the land. “What… what happened here?” he asked, eyes wide.

“This used to be the home of a bunch of dryads,” Toby said, noticing Logan’s expression. “They lived alongside the humans here. Then Dorian tried to infiltrate the town, use it as a base of operations or something, and, well… Dryads don’t like to share.”

“They took it as a betrayal on behalf of all humans when Dorian tried to take over,” Patton continued. “What little peace there was between the townspeople and the dryads disappeared. They retook their natural forms and fought to take back the land they’d gifted the humans, and —” Patton gestured at the former town.

A menacing smirk grew on Toby’s face. “And now, the spirits of all the dryads killed in the battle still wander the forest, searching for young mortals to kill —”

Patton promptly whacked Toby on the back of the head. “Shush, Tobe. Logan’s already been through enough of an emotional rollercoaster lately — or should I say, a roller-ghost-er?”

Logan blinked. “That…” He pressed his lips into a firm line to keep from screaming, letting out a long breath. “That was terrible.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo, I just couldn’t help myself!” Patton shrugged, a gleam in his eyes. “You know what they say about lifting people’s spirits: anything ghost!”

… Logan began to wonder if answers were worth dealing with this.

“I don’t appreciate you taking my spook and turning it into stupid puns,” Toby grumbled. “I mean, it’s almost time for that spooky mortal holiday, right? The candy one? I’m just going with the spirit of the season.”

“The spirit of the season?” Patton suggested, with the exact chaotic energy of an owo.

“Do… do you mean Halloween?” Logan asked, voice tense, as the urge to scream grew. He no longer had any doubts that Roman and Patton were related; being infuriating must run in the family. “It’s June. Halloween isn’t until October.”

“Close enough,” Toby said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Besides, I wasn’t lying. This place is haunted.”

“Uh-huh,” Logan deadpanned. “Toby, there is a time in every man’s life where he must draw a line. I have tolerated magic, and dragons, and shadow-beasts, and all manner of ridiculous, illogical things. I draw the line at ghosts. They do not exist.”

“Suit yourself,” Toby said, his shrug far too casual to be anything but devious. “Just don’t come crying to me when a dryad-ghost curses you into a dandelion for the rest of your life.”

“That can’t happen,” Patton said, the corners of his mouth twitching with laughter. The three started towards the forest-city, and Logan just barely caught what Patton murmured next, his voice confused enough that he couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Can it?”

#logan sanders #patton sanders #ts october #ts deceit #deceit sanders #abusive deceit #villain deceit #sanders sides #to my heart and soul #celeste's portfolio #logince

[amandaoftherosemire]

Lightning Strikes Part Five

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Characters: Thor Odinson, Loki Odinson, Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5,280

Format: Series (Complete)

Warning: Language.

Summary: You spend time with Loki.

A/N: The first couple parts of this was written a while ago for @buckysforeverprincess 500 Follower Writing Prompt Challenge. Not consistent with Marvel canon. I have willfully and deliberately ignored the events of Infinity War. The Statesman made it to Earth after a largely uneventful journey and everyone is FINE. The only thing I’ve taken from Infinity War is Stormbreaker because it’s cool as hell.

I want to thank everyone who sticks with my fics since I’m terrible at updating regularly. I also want to thank everyone who leaves feedback or sends me messages about them. It really does encourage me to write. I might not have stuck with this if someone hadn’t dropped me an ask about it. This seems to be only true for me, but I have no problem with being asked when I’m going to update as long as you’re not a dick about it. 😄 

This one took me some time until I stopped trying to make Loki do anything. It sounds weird but after a while I started thinking the real thing was fucking with me for daring to think I was in charge.

Part Four: Idolatry here

Antithesis

Several weeks later you sat at your desk in your office at the compound and tried with all your might to focus on one of the worst parts of your job. Full of legalese that proved to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that half the lawyers in the world only existed because the other half did, you were knee-deep in some bullshit. Reading documents like this was literally your least favorite part of the job description.

And it certainly didn't help that the author of the document was a member of the legal department with whom you were unfortunately familiar. You'd made it a point to not drink that heavily at office events since. The man may have been hot, but he was also an arrogant, pretentious fuckrag.

You couldn't help but be preoccupied. The Odinson brothers were driving you to distraction, though for very different reasons. You were running on fumes at this point, but you didn't know how to stop. Between the two, you were only getting a few hours of sleep a night even if it was only in making up missed work. Neither man was very good with the concept of deadlines or limited amounts of time, though Loki was the far worse of the two. You imagined you could thank Thor's time living on Earth, not to mention his sweet nature, for his greater consideration.

Thor. When he was there, he was quite possibly perfect. Funny and good natured, he was a joy to be around the vast majority of the time. Most of the time you spent together he seemed determined to wring everything he could get out of every minute with you. It was delightfully intense, because it wasn't just sex. Honestly, you'd have preferred it if it was, because he was sweet, and charming, and scarily intelligent, and you were terrified you were falling head over heels in love with him.

When he was there, he was the perfect companion, attentive without being overbearing, energetic without being exhausting, sweet without being cloying. He was also one of the most interesting men you'd ever met, a veritable fount of knowledge with an easy willingness to impart it. He had great stories, and a somewhat dramatic way of telling them. On top of that, he was a great listener, eager to learn everything you'd tell him about yourself, your life, your world. You'd yet to spend a boring minute in his presence.

When he was there, he made you feel like no one ever had before, like you were glowing from the inside out. He didn't just make you feel special, he seemed to think you were remarkable, as though he'd never even imagined someone like you. Aside from his myriad attractions, the outrageous body, the dreamy smile, the sweet and generous nature, that wonder at the reality of you would have been irresistible on its own. He sometimes had a look in his eye like he couldn't believe you were real. The idea that someone as extraordinary as Thor, considering where he'd come from and all that he'd seen, could find you not only astonishing, but delightfully so, was captivating.

When he was there, he couldn't seem to keep his hands off you, as though he thought you the sexiest woman on the planet. Not only was he ready, willing, and eager to go to bed whenever and wherever, he'd happily spend all day at it if you'd let him. To your amused chagrin, you'd now had sex in any number of rooms in the compound that you'd never even set foot in before. He was an utter hedonist, deeply sensual, basely sexual, and without an ounce of shame in his entire gorgeous body. Being his lover was both exhilarating and exhausting.

When he was there, you forgot all the reasons you should not fall in love with Thor Odinson. When he was there, you couldn't think about anything but the fact that you were happier with him than you'd ever been before. When he was there, you let tomorrow worry about itself and lived in the moment.

As he made every moment a shimmering jewel, as every moment dazzled you, seduced you, destroyed you, it was dangerously easy to lose yourself in him. When he was there.

That was the thing, though. He most often was NOT there.

Which you got. And not in that bullshit way where you say you get it, but you're only saying it because you know you're supposed to. You actually got it. You knew Thor had more than you could imagine on his plate; busy didn't begin to describe it. That he took the time he did to spend with you wasn't just flattering, it had the romantic corner of your heart sighing dreamily.

Unfortunately, when Thor wasn't there, which was most of the time, you were entirely too aware of how doomed your relationship with him truly was. Whether you looked at the differences in your circumstances, the distance between your homes, or the insanity of your lives, there was no way this could possibly work long term; you were sure of it. When you added in the fact that he was a king, a god, a hero, it was just getting ridiculous.

Lastly, there was the terrible thought you'd had once in the middle of the night that you never let yourself think again but that sat in the back of your brain like a goblin, snickering and waiting for its chance to start gnawing on your mind. You'd first thought of it when you were once again alone; Thor had left the afternoon before and your bed was suddenly depressingly cold and lonely. After hours of sleepless worry about all the other things bound to go wrong, you'd had a thought so awful, of an obstacle so insurmountable, you'd immediately wrapped it in layers of oh hell no and stuffed in the darkest corner in the smallest, darkest closet of your mind. If you didn't think of it, you could allow yourself to enjoy this glorious fantasy until something else destroyed the dream.

You'd had the thought because of Loki, actually. Not because of something he'd deliberately pointed out, but an offhand comment regarding something that happened when he and Thor had been children. The story had been funny, and Loki had a way of drawing you in, but a tiny detail had stuck inside your mind like a bur. That detail chafed, keeping your brain scratching at it until you came to the realization that ruined your hopes and broke your heart. Like an oyster with a grain of sand, you'd started covering that thought in layers until your mind could glide over it easily without any scraping or stumbling.

Loki, on the other hand, was always there, both when you wanted him and not. He acted as though he had decided you were the only person in the compound he could stand for more than a few minutes. You suspected he liked plenty of people way more than he let on, but he seemed devoted to his persona of smug superiority. Unfortunately, this meant when Loki got bored, he came looking for you. Being forced to behave himself and stay in the compound did not amuse or entertain him so he came looking for you a lot. As a matter of fact, he came looking for you all. the damn. time.

You adored Loki, truly. It wasn't that you objected to spending time with him. It was that you could not make him care about the fact that you had other things to do. He had no qualms about interrupting your workday, no matter how many times you asked him not to, leading to plenty of afterhours catch-up. He thought most of what you did was stupid, so he didn't give two shits about getting in the way of it. It was strangely admirable, his dedication to not giving a fuck.

The problem was that Loki didn't cause as much trouble when you were catering to his whims and dancing attendance upon him. To be fair, Loki didn't really cause trouble; it was more that he subtly arranged circumstances in favor of the most dramatic or disastrous outcome. He loved to sit back and watch fireworks he'd personally arranged. When you'd confided your difficulties in Pepper, she had assured you that time spent placating Loki would be considered work time if for no other reason than that it gave everyone else a break. At her direction, you had been spending most of your time at the compound to make it easier for you to tend to him and make the team members' lives a little easier while Loki was in residence.

Which is how you knew, when he strode into your office with an air of impatience, you'd be giving in to his whims after a sham refusal you'd enact purely for form.

"I’m bored." Loki burst into the room the way he did everything, with an arrogance that bordered on contempt. Perhaps it was a sign of something wrong with you, but Loki's attitude, rather than offending you, perfectly tickled the perverse part of your sense of humor.

You didn't even look up from your paperwork. You were entirely too familiar with this tune to do more than absently bob your head along with the beat. You scoffed. "I care."

Loki stared holes in the top of your head, not that it ever seemed to bother you. But then you often reacted in unexpected ways. Is that why he kept scratching at you? If he could understand you, predict your behavior, would you finally bore him as much as most humans? "Why, exactly, do you do this?" he asked, as he settled into one of the chairs in front of your desk.

"No, it’s fine." You rolled your eyes but kept your eyes off Loki. You knew from experience that once you looked at him, he would consider the acknowledgement as validation and you'd spend the rest of the day answering his questions. "I’m not trying to parse legalese right now or anything."

Loki stayed silent. He refused to repeat himself. Also, he'd noticed that his silence seemed to exasperate you faster than anything else. He examined his cuticles while he waited for the quiet to do its work.

For a while, the only sound in the room was the brush of fabric as either of you shifted position and the whisper of each turn of the page. You often printed legalese like this out so that you could mark on it without the risk of sending something like 'who the fuck does this asshole think he is?' to the asshole in question. You vowed to keep doing it, if for no other reason than that it was so much more dramatic than rolling a scroll button on a mouse.

You could tell by the quality of the hush that settled over the room that Loki was in one of his more difficult moods, meaning that he would only get more and more petulant the longer you put him off. Though you hated to do it as a matter of principle, you knew giving in would cost you far less time and annoyance than pretending to allow him to irritate you into paying attention to him. The pragmatist in you would not allow you to stand on principle when there was no benefit to you other than self-righteousness.

You gave an exaggerated sigh as marked your place in the document with a quickly scrawled LNA, your code for Loki Needs Attention and the current time. Pepper had asked you to keep track of how much time you were spending dancing attention on the Asgardian prince, though you didn’t include the time you gave on your off-hours.

You placed the document into a file folder, closing it carefully and placing your interlaced fingers on top as you made it clear you were focusing on Loki under protest and with utmost exasperation.  "Why do I do what?"

Loki smiled inwardly even as his face moved into a sneer. "This!" He swept his arm out to take in the room they sat in. "Labor for these people?"

"Okay." You infused as much doubt as you could into the word. You looked around at your very nice office and decided not to ask what exactly he found so distasteful. "Two reasons. First, I love the things money can buy, like food and shelter and liquor. Second, because I’m fucking awesome at it. We done?" You lifted your eyebrows at him in the kind of bored disdain you knew he'd find most challenging, and thus most entertaining.

Loki matched your tone as he stood to wander the room and examine the furnishings. He did this every time. "I’d ask what you do in here, but frankly I don’t care."

You shot him a toothy grin and a beam of sarcastic cheer. "Great. Bye."

Loki didn't deign to answer this time. He knew he had you now. He could almost hear your mind rationalizing the decision to simply give in and give him what he wanted. In his experience, it was always best to let people manipulate themselves. He meandered over to the bookshelves, as he often did, where you had books and photographs taking up most of one long wall. Some of the books were work related, but plenty were from your personal collection.

Every time he came into this room, he liked to take a different book down from the shelf and skim through it. Your preferred reading material told him a great deal about you. Loki needed to understand you if he was to accurately assess the situation. He also liked to examine a different photo in the hopes of deciphering why you smiled like a lunatic in every picture you were in. He suspected it was something to hide behind, similar to his own superior smirk.

Loki eyes slid over the titles, looking for anything somewhat interesting that he hadn't already tried. He found human society largely boring if not aggravating, but he couldn't help but enjoy the art. He considered it mostly primitive, but with a raw energy that made it compelling. The depth and breadth of human art was the most impressive thing about the species, he thought. Not that that was saying much.

You were already bored watching him amble around your office. "Oh my god! You win; I don’t want to fight." Loki turned away from the bookcase with a smug smile. You laughed as soon as you saw it and rolled your eyes indulgently. "I’ll make you a deal. Give me an hour to take care of the most pressing matters, and at the end of that hour, I will set everything else aside to cater to your whims and find something to entertain you." You leveled a wryly amused look his way; you were both convinced you were outwitting the other but if you were honest the two of you just liked the drama of it.

Loki's face spread in a wickedly pleased smile and you couldn't help the little twinge of attraction that shimmered through you. Hell, you were faithful, not dead. Fairly gloating, Loki turned to leave. "I’ll be back in an hour."

"Outstanding,” you replied with a thin smile.

As Loki opened the door, Bucky was raising his fist to knock on it. The two men glared at one another for a moment before Bucky rolled his eyes and stepped back, sweeping his arm out in a mockery of gallantry. Loki sneered but walked by without comment.

"Hey, doll." Once Loki was out of the way, Bucky poked his head through the door. "You got a minute?"

You replied with a flirty smile and batted eyelashes. "For you? Always." Bucky smiled sweetly as he came in and shut the door. He looked a little uncomfortable as he took the seat Loki had recently vacated. "Uh-oh," you said with widened eyes and raised brows. "Is everything okay?"

"I don't know. Is it?" Bucky was still looking a little uncomfortable, but his eyes shone with concern. You were baffled.

You looked around, your expression serious but a touch confused. "Is this a riddle?"

Bucky's face softened into a smile. "I don't see you anymore; I miss you." He leaned forward and placed his hand palm up on your desk. "If Thor isn't here, Loki is monopolizing your time."

"You have no idea," you replied with a laugh as you leaned forward to place your hand in his. You squeezed gently and would have let go if he hadn’t held on. You frowned and tilted your head. “What?”

Bucky didn’t smile, and you realized that whatever this was, he was serious. “I'm worried,” he confessed, and you could tell he was concerned that he was crossing a line. This was new territory in your friendship and such things always caused Bucky a ton of anxiety.

You felt a pang of remorse that you’d forgotten about your other friends when the Odinson brothers had come into your life. Bucky was incredibly dear to you and you knew how difficult he sometimes found living at the compound. He'd once confessed that half the time the only thing keeping him there was Steve. You sometimes suspected he relied upon your company a great deal as well, not that he'd ever said anything. You couldn't help but feel guilty for being so distracted.

Bucky let go of your hand when you stood up and walked around the desk to sit in the chair next to his. You leaned back casually and crossed your legs, hoping to make it clear by your demeanor that you did not consider the subject off-limits or over the line. “About Thor?” you inquired with a sassy smirk. “Or Loki?”

“Truth be told, both,” Bucky replied with a wry laugh, “but Loki is the more immediate threat.”

"Well, love, I have good news and bad news." You leaned your elbow on the chair arm and placed your chin on your fist. "The bad news is that Loki would drive you all mad if I didn't keep him somewhat occupied. The good news is that he's not a threat, just a pain in my ass." You dropped your hand to Bucky's forearm and squeezed gently. "I know you don't understand this, but I like Loki.'

Bucky looked down at your hand, surprised to find that it didn't bother him that you were touching his metal arm. Perhaps it was because you hadn't seemed to notice. "Why?" he asked, his voice rich with a wealth of confusion, doubt, and amused disbelief.

You laughed and used the hand on his arm to push at him. "I like smartasses. Why do you think I'm madly in love with you?"

"Fine," Bucky smiled, but his eyes still looked worried. “Just promise me that you won't make the mistake of trusting him.”

“I'll thank you to not insult my intelligence,” you scoffed in reply. When Bucky didn’t answer, just continued to watch you carefully, you rolled your eyes and answered with a wry half-smile. “Oh my god, I promise.”

“Good.” Bucky relaxed into the chair with a wicked grin. “Now, you wanna tell me everything about Thor?”

Your expression turned sly as you shot a matching grin his way. “How much time you got?”

A few days later your office door flew inward with a slam as Loki’s voice rang out. “Y/N!”

You, once again, did not bother to look up from your work. “Sure. Come on in. I'm not quite obviously terribly awfully busy or anything.”

“I don't even know what odd human things you do in here, let alone why it matters.” Loki moved to the other side of the desk and looked down his nose at you from his towering height.

You shrugged and murmured absently, “Since you're asking—"

“I most certainly am not.” Loki cut you off with a sneer.

You finally looked up at Loki, blinking to bring yourself back to the present. “Did you come in here for an actual reason, or did you just need someone to pay attention to you?”

“How is that not an actual reason?” His lips twitched ever so slightly, something you'd learned was one of his tells. He was in one of his playful moods, which was surprising considering how put out he had been the day before when you'd opted to spend your evening with Steve and Bucky. Loki had hidden it well, but he'd been irritated under the disdain when he refused to join you.

The corner of your mouth curled up just a hair as you responded. "Loki, to your astonishment I’m sure, catering to your moods is not actually in my job description."

Loki, ever mercurial, turned away from you to walk to your bookshelves. "If you’re certain you don’t have any time for me; I suppose I can amuse myself."

"I know that’s meant to send a chill down my spine." Your voice was dry as dust, but the genuine amusement came through loud and clear. "And it does, but it is not the policy of this office to negotiate with terrorists.”

"Pet," Loki's voice had taken on a strange timbre when he said the word, and it sent a literal shiver down your spine, but whether it was fear or desire you weren't entirely sure. "I’d much rather annoy you than someone else. The others aren’t as much fun."

You opted to put the sensation out of your mind. If it was fear there was little good dwelling on it would do for you. If it was desire, dwelling on it would most definitely make things worse. You answered as though his voice hadn't taken on an almost seductive tone. "If you will behave yourself for the rest of the morning, I’ll take a long lunch and give you my undivided attention the whole time. Deal?"

Loki smiled.

After you'd eaten a quick lunch, you drug Loki outside to enjoy the sunshine. Once you'd flopped down onto the grass and braced yourself on your elbows to tilt your face to the sun, you slanted a raised eyebrow in his direction. "Okay, spill. What’s your deal?"

You had your eyes closed against the light, but you could hear the sneer on his face loud and clear. "I beg your pardon?"

"Loki," you began and there was a wealth of patience in your tone. You opened one eye to fix him with a gimlet stare. "I am neither naïve nor stupid. Why are you paying so much attention to me? Is it because I'm banging your brother?"

The sneer twisted from arrogance to disgust. "For reasons that currently escape me, I actually enjoy your company." You gasped dramatically and let your muscles go limp, dropping to the ground in a mock faint. Loki rolled his eyes even as his mouth twitched. "I know. I was shocked, too."

You opened your eyes and looked up at his amused scorn. Though most wouldn't understand why, you were deeply touched. This was probably the nicest he'd ever been to a human. You smiled at him, and for once it was utterly genuine and sincere, with no sarcasm or disdain to hide behind. "Loki, are we friends?"

Loki watched you out of the corner of his eye. He had long ago learned to hide his true feelings behind whatever mask suited his needs best at any given time. He had seen in you the same tendency for all you hid behind careless charm and a sense of humor. Until this moment, however, he hadn't suspected that you hid a tender heart.

He had thought you were one like him, cynical, cold, careless. To find in your open and unguarded smile something sweet and wholesome explained one conundrum even as it raised a whole host of other problems. He felt a tiny twinge of remorse, a rarity for him even these days. He sniffed. "No. You're my pet."

"Then I expect you to start bringing me presents and treats." You closed your eyes again and spoke archly. You could tell something bothered him and assumed it was his discomfort with anything resembling sincerity or sentiment. "If I'm going to be a pet, I insist on being a spoiled one."

Loki turned his head to look at you properly. He could tell immediately what you were doing and found it both disarmingly sweet and deeply disturbing. You were far too perceptive for you own good and he still had many, many secrets to protect. "You are wasted on my brother. You know that, right?"

You hated when he did this. You steadfastly refused to discuss with Loki whatever was happening between you and Thor. Though their relationship seemed easier than you’d expected, considering the stories you’d heard from others, there was still a tension between them you didn’t understand and neither man seemed interested in explaining.

The few times Loki had commented on your relationship with Thor, he’d made it clear he disapproved. You also steadfastly refused to ask what exactly he disapproved of. You allowed Loki to tell stories from their past, but you would not talk about your present. It felt… disloyal. To both of them.

“I do not. Your brother doesn't waste a bit of me.” You kept your eyes closed but let your lips curve into a satisfied feline smile. “He uses every part.”

The horrified silence that followed had you prying one eye open to glance up at Loki. You immediately burst into fits of wicked laughter at the look of disgust and loathing you found on his face. “Why would you say such a thing to me?” he asked, his tone rich with disbelief and a hint of hurt.

“You're being a dick,” you replied with a careless shrug and a challenging grin when you’d stopped laughing.

Loki expression hardly changed, but his face took on a sinister cast that had a chill running down your spine. For the first time since you’d met him, you truly believed him capable of the things you knew he’d done. “He'll never truly appreciate you,” he mocked, both sly and cruel, “because he'll never truly understand you.”

You yawned, deliberately, as his words and demeanor were making you sick to your stomach. “You make me sound so complicated and mysterious.” You closed your eyes again, a deliberate dismissal. “It’s dumb, but I dig it.”

Loki made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a snort. “You may be able to fool those like my brother too dull and blind to see what you really are, but don’t insult me.”

“And what am I?” Your voice was harsh as you asked the question, and you sat up to look Loki full in the face. You were holding onto your temper with both hands; only the knowledge that he would love to goad you into a tantrum restraining you. “Really?”

“A realist, like me.” Loki was well aware of what he was doing. He turned his head and looked out across the grass at the main building. He wondered what it would take to truly set you off and considered it necessary to find out. “You don't concern yourself with what's right, but what's expedient.”

You frowned. This wasn’t what you were expecting, and you weren’t sure how to proceed. He was being insulting, but in a way that made you question whether that was his intent. “I prefer to think of myself as a pragmatist,” you said slowly. Your somewhat warped sense of humor rushed to the fore and you laughed as you pushed at his shoulder, not that you moved him even a little. “And I do so worry about doing what's right. I just take what's expedient into account, too.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth lifted in a small smile. Your casual shrug as you said the last only proved his point as far as he was concerned. “You also have a talent for reframing things in your favor. Of shuffling words until you're in the right. I admire that.”

“So, you're saying I'm too good for your brother because I’m too much like you?”

“No,” he chuckled. “He's too good for the both of us. I'm saying he'll never comprehend your true worth because he's too good.”

“Okay.” You weren’t sure how he’d managed to drag you into this conversation. Now that you had been, however, you desperately wanted to know why. "For the sake of argument, let's assume that I accept your premise. What's your fucking point?"

Loki finally looked at you, one brow raising in mock surprise. "Do I need one?" You raised a matching eyebrow, but yours was skeptical. Loki narrowed his eyes, his expression turning menacing. "I’m somewhat fond of you. I don’t think I’d enjoy seeing you in pain."

Unable to help yourself, even knowing you'd end up paying for it, you snickered outright. "I have bad news for you, Loki. It sure seems like you’re my friend."

The look of disgust Loki shot your way had you erupting into gales of delighted laughter. Worth it.

You never did get a straight answer out of him, but that was only to be expected. Loki could give lessons on inscrutability. You opted to file away the conversation for further contemplation at a later date.

Even though you weren't entirely sure why Loki had given you what you assumed was a warning, you were sure that Loki never did anything without reason. The reason may seem batshit crazy to you, but it was there. If he felt the need to speak on the subject, he had a purpose. However, you also couldn't discount the possibility that he was simply fucking with you for his own entertainment.

Regardless, you put it away, knowing you’d end up obsessing on it in the middle of the night during some bout of insomnia when Thor wasn’t there to exhaust you into sleep.

The next day you burst into the common kitchen in a towering rage, holding something sparkling and pink. You flung the thing at Loki’s feet, your entire demeanor pure, unbridled fight me. Pushing your face into his as best you could considering his height, you pointed imperiously at the ridiculous thing he'd left in a beautifully wrapped gift box on your desk. You shouted, your voice practically booming through the room and turning all heads your way, "Did you gift wrap a fucking leash?!"

Loki was as close to speechless as he ever got. The sight of you in a full-blown temper was something truly magnificent. Your narrowed eyes sparkled with rage and your lips parted to let furious huffs of breath through. He found it interesting that passion, whether from anger or desire, made you beautiful.

Rather than say that, however, Loki’s lips curved in an amused smile as he replied, “I thought you want to be spoiled, pet.” His expression shifted into a mockery of innocence. “Is this not what you meant?”

Loki braced for the explosion, certain he’d pushed you into losing your temper completely. Instead, the humor of the moment struck you with such force that you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up inside you. He’d somehow acquired a cat collar that spelled out your name in rhinestones, for fuck’s sake.

As your expression melted from furious insult to genuine merriment, Loki felt another of those annoying pangs of remorse. It really was too bad. As humans went, you’d just become one of his favorites.

Part Six: Crucible here

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[itsevidentvery]

Assassin Jared falling in love with his assignment (Richard obvs) PLEASE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU TO YOU (AND TO @byocryptid) FOR INDULGING ME!

Okay, this is - as usual - Too Long For Tumblr, and Extra As Hell, so behold: Chemical Warfare Kingpin Richard Hendricks and Assassin Jared. Content warning for some nasty but pretty stylised and offscreen violence. p>

Intellectually, Richard realises this was on the cards.

You don’t make a move on Gavin Belson’s territory without …

Well, tied up in a chair with a light directly in his eyesis somewhere close to ‘best-case scenario’, frankly. Even with the poundingheadache and the taste of copper in his mouth.

The headache does make it a little harder to concentrate onGavin’s whole ‘I’m you, but stronger’ pitch.

It’s a good pitch, to be fair. Gavin has the size, he hasthe network, he has the clout, he has the resources to take Pied Piper from thatlittle capsicin-based picoparticle that’s done so much promising damage in local Zambian conflicts, to … well, the possibilitiesare endless. Gavin has suits. He owns entire buildings on K Street and rightsto families (dynasties (entire genetic codes)) of politicians and Beltwayinsiders. He has fat government contracts to operate in Afghanistan and Iraqand Pakistan. He could buy Halliburton ten times over with what he makes in aday.

All this he has. What he doesn’t have? Is Pied Piper.

‘No,’ says Richard.

He hears Gavin sigh. Regretful, disappointed, but willing totolerate the tantrums of an excitable but gifted child. ‘Richard, use yourhead.’

‘I am,’ says Richard. ‘That’s – that’s why I’m here, yeah?My head. What’s in it, I mean.’

‘Richard, Pied Piper is an idea. A germ – and isn’t thatappropriate?’

‘No,’ says Richard, ‘it’s a chemical weapon.’

His pedantry has its uses. Gavin’s momentarily derailed, andRichard goes on: ‘A germ would be more like that Zika hybrid that Hooli triedout in, where was it, Nicaragua? Basically inoculated the population?’

There’s a silence – a long silence. Then Gavin speaks. ‘Wewere testing,’ he says, his voice quivering, ‘a vaccine.’

‘That’s what your PR said,’ says Richard, ‘proceeds go tothe Belson Foundation, it’s a great story, yeah? Shave you a couple million intaxes? I mean, you’ll never work for the Opositor again and how much did youhave to beg for the CIA to even give you the, the fucking time of day after,but - ’

‘But they did,’ says Gavin, and he’s suddenly a lot closer, ‘whichis more than they’ll ever do for you. And,’ he says, ‘it’s not like you’ve gota better solution, you little pissant.’

‘I do,’ says Richard.

There’s another silence. Then ‘what?’

‘I do,’ says Richard, ‘it’s, there’s a procedure, I’mworking on it, the first blots are, it’s not much, but they’re, they’repromising, the impact, the rate of transmission, it’s only simulations but - ’

The silence this time is different. Different enough – long enough– for Richard to go from congratulating himself to a complete, full-body Oh fuck.

‘You know,’ says Gavin, ‘I was wrong about you, Richard.’

Richard – too late, his brain’s cursing him – says nothing.

‘I thought that I could make you,’ says Gavin, ‘I thoughtthat we could make the world a better place.’

He sighs – a long, theatrically sad sound. ‘But I listen toyou – your hubris, Richard, your, your sociopathic disregard for the sanctityof life, of institutions, of humanity– and I know there’s only one way you can make the world a better place.’

Another sigh and then ‘By leaving it.’

And there it is. Richard’s almost too distracted by thehistrionics to protest, but he’s gearing his faculties for it when Gavin says –offhand, clearly on his way out – ‘Take care of it, Jared.’

And then Richard hears another voice: calm, pitched deferentiallylow to go with the stooping silhouette Richard can barely make out against theglare of the lamp. ‘It’s Donald, actually.’

‘What?’ says Gavin.

‘It’s Donald,’ says the voice, ‘you called me Jared because –well, I’m not sure why, Mr. Belson – and I never corrected you, but it’sactually Donald.’

‘Fine,’ says Gavin, irritation vibrating in his voice, ‘Donald,then.’

‘Jared’s fine,’ says – Donald? Jared? – ‘I like it better,actually.’ A pause. ‘So thank you.’

And then there’s a snapping sound, and Gavin falls intoRichard’s lap.

Richard yelps, staring into Gavin’s open eyes and a face permanentlyset into a fucking theatrical mask of outrage.

Gavin is very clearly dead. Human necks do not bend thatway.

He starts as he feels hands undoing his wrists.

‘What – who - ’

‘You should go,’ says Jared, stepping away, ‘you don’t havelong.’

‘I – like, there’s others who - ’

‘No,’ and there’s a gentle clickof the tongue in reproof, ‘I’ll take care of them. I mean, I’ll set fire to the place before I leave.’

‘Three commas,’ says Dinesh.

Richard looks at the images on the table. Russ Hanneman, hispersonal bodyguard and the rest of his security detail, laid out in gracefularches, curving toward and away from each other.

He nods.

Dinesh clears his throat. ‘So that leaves us, uh,’ he raiseshis eyebrows, ‘I’ll call Bream Hall and say we’re on, yeah?’

Richard nods again, and turns to Gilfoyle.

‘I don’t know how they knew,’ says Gilfoyle, before Richard cansay anything. ‘It might be a coincidence.’

‘Coincidence?,’ says Richard, ‘coincidence?’

‘Oh, here we fucking go,’ says Dinesh.

‘This is the third time – the third time,’ says Richard, ‘thatsomeone who was, was trying to take us over, or, or kill us, or was just beinga, a douchebag, has been - ’ he gestures to the photo, ‘and you’re still goingwith coincidence?’

‘That,’ says Dinesh, ‘or we’re not looking a gift horse inthe fucking mouth, Richard.’

Gilfoyle shrugs. ‘He comes after security, we’ve got aproblem.’

‘So you agree it’s him!’

‘Until he, or she, or they, do,’ says Gilfoyle, ‘you have aguardian angel.’

‘Some Satanist,’ mutters Richard as they leave.

He opens a folder on his laptop that night.

Three commas. A starburst of the heads of Yakuza Councilmembers. The intestines of a recalcitrant Senator, glistening oily and dark,twisted in the shape of a paperclip.

The poses are – intricate. Thoughtful. A delicate hand haslingered here, shifted there. Carefully. Tenderly. Lovingly.

It’s him. Richard knows it’s him. He knows that Richardknows it’s him. He must. He has to.

‘Jared,’ he says to Gilfoyle. ‘Also Donald, maybe. He, uh,’Richard coughs, ‘He prefers Jared.’

Gilfoyle’s expression – completely unchanging – conveys thathe has never in all their association been less impressed with Richard than atthis moment.

‘Just,’ Richard flaps his hand, ‘Find him.’

Gilfoyle puts enquiries in motion. People are sent afterJared (or Donald). One or two have gotten close, because Gilfoyle knows hisshit. Both of them come back alive, but very disinclined for a repeatperformance.

‘He didn’t kill them,’ Gilfoyle says, ‘so Dick can stoppulling the petals off that flower in his office.’

‘Yeah,’ says Dinesh, ‘your guy told Tracey who told Staceywho told Britney that he like-likesyou.’

Richard doesn’t say anything. Hedoesn’t even ask Gilfoyle’s operatives if Jared (or Donald), like, saidanything about him.

This is honestly dumb. Richard shouldn’t even be here,really, Dinesh could have handled this, but Duncan was being a little bitchabout territory disputes so they thought that it would be a nice gesture for Richardto show his face.

Duncan thinks he’s got an in through the Ukrainian market.He’s been tickling the balls of Richard’s chemical engineers (maybe evenliterally) for two weeks. He thinks he has a staff. He thinks he has anadvantage. He thinks he has a fucking clue.

‘Richard!’ he says, grin splitting open his stupid giantface, ‘so honoured you could join us!’

Richard hunches a shoulder. ‘Look,’ he says, ‘Can we just –we can send you bulk orders for whatever shitty aspirin-piss cocktail you’retrying to pass off as Napalm nowadays, you won’t know which orders are real andwhich are fake, we’ve set up nested shell companies and fake Kremlin procurement- ’

‘- Or is it real,’ says Gilfoyle.

‘Guess you’ll never know,’ says Richard.

‘You’ll never be able to turn them around, you’ll runyourself into the ground trying - ’

‘And all those treacherous fuckwads who ran to you,’ says Dinesh,‘will be shivering in their chaddisin the cold when we’re done.’

‘That means underwear,’ says Gilfoyle.

Duncan’s smile wavers for a moment before switching itselfback on. ‘Yeah?’ he says, and slides a cellphone over to Richard.

Richard picks it up and looks at the image.

A slender male body, tied to a chair. The chest’s bare, withcigarette burns on it. Teeth show over a gag. There’s rope tied to his wrists,ankles and neck.

Richard passes the phone to Gilfoyle, who looks at Duncan. ‘Youshowing us your porn now?’

Duncan’s smile widens. ‘Donald Dunn.’

Richard can feel his vision going grey. Dinesh’s handclutches his shoulder, his voice in his ear hisses ‘Richard? Stay calm.’

‘Or,’ says Duncan, showing his teeth, ‘is it Jared?’

‘Stay calm, Richard.’

Richard gets up. Tosses the cellphone onto Duncan’s desk. ‘We’redone here,’ he says, and zips up his hoodie.

‘Are you - ?’ Duncan seems, like, outraged. ‘You’ve beenhunting high and low for this guy – for months! You telling me you don’t - ’

‘We don’t know who this is,’ says Gilfoyle, ‘we don’t knowwho you’ve got in your little snuff chamber, so - ’

‘One word from me,’ says Duncan, ‘and your little friend startslosing parts.’

‘Your littlefriend,’ says Dinesh. His hand’s still on Richard’s arm; Richard can feel his eyeson his face. ‘We don’t know who the fuck you’ve got there.’

‘Which part you wanna see first?’ says Duncan. ‘Toe? Thumb? Cock?Which one of you takes it, Hendricks? You wanna - ’

There’s a sharp, soft report, and Duncan goes over.

It’s Bedlam for a while, with Duncan’s people lurching intoconfused action and Gilfoyle sweeping Richard and Dinesh behind him as he returnsfire and calls in reinforcements.

When the room stops ringing, Richard looks up at the tall,thin figure standing in front of him. He doesn’t look happy.

‘Jared,’ he says, and he can feel the smile everywhere in hisbody. ‘Jared Dunn.’

‘That was irresponsible,’ says Jared. His voice is stillsoft, but Richard feels his eyelids flutter at its careful calm.

‘I had backup,’ says Richard.

‘You let them get the drop on you,’ says Jared, and his eyesare blazing – Jesus Christ, he’s beautiful – ‘it wasn’t just him, or the detailin the building, he’s got it surrounded - ’

‘He had,’ saysGilfoyle.

Jared gives him a brief nod of acknowledgement beforeturning back to Richard. ‘You let them takeyou.’

‘You let them take you,’says Richard. Jared’s eyes are like frostbite, like ice and the sun and alaser-honed blade of steel.

Jared makes an impatient gesture. ‘What if I hadn’t?’

‘But you did,’ says Richard.

Jared’s eyes snap at him, like actually. ‘You reckless child.’

‘Got you here,’ says Richard – croons Richard. ‘Made youlook.’

‘Frees up budget from looking for you,’ offers Gilfoyle.

‘Frees up Richard from obsessing,’ says Dinesh.

Richard looks into that pale face and thinks No, not that.

He says ‘Want a job?’

#joycecarolnotes #byocryptid #assassin!jared #i get by with a little help from my friends #jarrich #my fic #dinesh chughtai #bertram gilfoyle #gavin belson #silicon valley #silicon valley hbo #sv hbo

[artificialqueens]

The First Day of Christmas (katlaska) - kamylove

<i>AN A belated Christmas thing. It’s a small miracle that they can be together for Christmas, and they’re not going to waste a minute.</i>

It’s a small miracle that they can be together for Christmas. It took some juggling and a lot of airfare, but they’ve got three days, and Katya doesn’t plan to waste a minute. She arrives at the hotel near her parents’ house the morning of Christmas Eve, and goes straight to the mall where she worked in high school to buy all the tacky, disposable decorations left on sale. She hums Alaska’s Christmas Queens songs (because Alaska’s are the best ones, obviously) while she hangs the most ostentatious display she can hang, without incurring a fee from the hotel. She goes to see her family for dinner, and uses their wrapping paper, because she <i>knew</i> she’d forgotten something at the mall, and steals a big roll of ribbon. She’s buzzing with energy and dominating conversation, but they’re used to that. Still, she leaves early; she’s driving even herself crazy, and to be honest she’s a bit lonely, so she goes back to their suite to wait for Alaska’s late flight. Once there she ends up redoing all the decorations, because she’s having one of those can’t sit still days, and she texts Alaska a long, giddy stream of holiday and heart emojis that she’ll see when her plane lands. Then she watches <i>Rudolph</i>, and sends Alaska, one line at a time, The Absolutely True Love Story of Yukon Cornelius and The Abominable, wherein Yukon is a bottom and loves toothy blowjobs, and it’s a myth that the Abominable had <i>all</i> his teeth pulled which is a damn good thing for Yukon, and falling off the cliff is an orgasm metaphor, and … “Making me laugh like that in the fucking airport!” Alaska texts finally. “YOU’RE HERE YOU’RE HERE YOU’RE HERE,” Katya texts back. “Renting the car right now, please put your masterpiece on pause so I can pretend to be a normal human being.” “I’M A LITTLE HYPERACTIVE TODAY,” Katya replies. Alaska sends a heart and a brain. Katya sends a heart and a snake, and then gets a bit carried away with eggplants and a whole lot of peaches. <><><> Katya had texted the key code in the middle of her gay Christmas special text storm, so Alaska punches it in without knocking and wheels her bags inside. She barely gets out, “Merry Christmas, bitch,” before there’s an unholy shriek, a door opening, and a whirl of color barreling towards her. This is not a new thing, so Alaska braces herself while Katya gloms onto her with arms around her neck and legs around her waist. <i>(“Maybe try that with a little less momentum next time,” Alaska had said, right after landing on her tailbone the first time Katya bowled her over.)</i> Thankfully, Alaska’s able to lean back into the wall, instead of falling on the floor. She wraps her arms around Katya to help keep her where she is. “Hi,” Katya says right in Alaska’s face. “I’ve been waiting <i>forever</i>.” “My plane landed early!” Alaska says. <i>“Forever,”</i> Katya insists. She grins. “You look yummy.” “You still have toothpaste on your chin, but I really mi-” And Katya cuts her off with a tongue practically down her throat. “Missed you anyway,” Alaska finishes when she can get a word in. Katya squeals, a little too close to Alaska’s ear, and then apologizes. “I’m just so happy to see you!” Katya says, like she always does. “I love that you’re so happy to see me,” Alaska says, like she always does. They both know Alaska’s just as happy, if better able to contain herself. “Now get down. I’m fucking exhausted, and I’m about to drop you.” Katya doesn’t lower herself to the floor so much as jump, and then she’s grabbing Alaska’s hand and pulling her further inside. “Look what I did!” she says. Alaska follows with a grin, and the grin turns into a shocked bark or laughter as she looks around. The space is full of red and green streamers and garlands, paper stockings and snowflakes and snowmen–one of them labeled “Abominable, A Top (not an accurate likeness)”–and a big Christmas tree sticker on the wall. There’s plastic holly and poinsettia and mistletoe. There’s a three-foot candy cane that seems, worrisomely, to be real, with a ribbon of red, green, and gold plaid tied around it. And there’s a banner that says, “Happy Thanksgiving,” complete with a turkey in a stupid pilgrim hat. “It was on clearance,” Katya explains, waving her arms and pointing to make sure Alaska sees everything. Then there are half a dozen pictures of Alaska on stage, and when Alaska gets closer she can see they have helpful notes like, “I was staring at your ass the whole time,” and “You missed the high note,” and “I’m stealing this wig in particular,” and “Squeeze my boob, baby.” And there’s a brightly-wrapped nativity set that looks like– “Is that <i>chocolate</i>?” Alaska asks. “Dibs on baby Jesus!” Katya says in a rush. It’s all very crazy and very Katya, and Alaska tells her so. “It’s a <i>disastah</i> and it’s so you I want to fuck it,” she says. Katya screams out a laugh and wheezes and manages to say, “I knew you would! I knew you would, that’s why I brought extra condoms!” “You’re so good to me,” Alaska says. “I am, aren’t I?” Katya smiles flirtatiously. “Oh!” She holds up a hand to say stop. “Are you hungry? I have leftovers for you! And pizza!” “The traditional Christmas pizza?” “It’s got lots of vegetables on it. It’s like a cooked salad with cheese! Well, half of it has cheese.” “That sounds a lot worse than it probably tastes,” Alaska says. Katya bounces over to the mini-fridge. In the middle of opening it, she looks back and says, “Oh! I only had salad for dinner! And fruit for breakfast!” “Did you now?” Alaska asks. “I did,” Katya says as if she’s talking dirty. Alaska laughs, and Katya piles her arms full of tupperware and a pizza box. <><><> After pizza (Katya scrapes the cheeseless vegetables off the top and makes sure Alaska’s watching), and potatoes and squash and peas, they settle down to watch <i>Santa Claus Conquers the Martians</i>. They’re only a few minutes in when Alaska, yawning, lays her head on Katya’s shoulder. She sighs happily when Katya pets her thigh, and Katya can tell how tired she is by the way she’s holding herself, melting into Katya’s side. “Sleepy?” Katya asks. “Mmm.” “Want to go to bed?” “Not if you’re not.” Katya smiles. She loves sappy Alaska, and exhaustion brings out the sappiest Alaska. The sofa they’re sitting on looks almost long enough for Alaska to lie down, so Katya moves to the end. She coaxes Alaska to stretch out and put her head in in Katya’s lap. Alaska grumbles, but makes a happy sound when she’s settled. Katya combs her fingers through Alaska’s curls. “Are we growing this out again, or have you just been too busy?” Katya asks.

“Too busy. But I’ve been tempted lately to shave it all off like yours.” She finds Katya’s spare hand and brings it to her chest. “Hey,” she notices, holding it out again so she can see better, “your nails are did!” Katya flutters both hands to show them off. One is a a messy red, one a messy green, and just one thumb is a glittery white she got for $.49 at the mall. “Tell me how pretty they are,” she says. Alaska laughs. “They’re very pretty.” “Really?” “Actually it looks like a hack job you did because you were bored. But they’re gorgeous, because they’re on you.” Katya squeals and goes back to playing with Alaska’s hair. It doesn’t take long for Katya to get bored with the movie and start yawning herself, and Alaska’s already sound asleep. She’s curled up and snoring a little and she looks too comfortable to move, but they’ll both regret it if she doesn’t. “Wake up, bitch,” Katya says. “Time for bed.” Alaska mumbles, “I’ll just stay here.” “No, you won’t. It’ll kill your back.” “All downhill after thirty,” Alaska says, as Katya leads her by the hand into the other room. <><><> Alaska’s dreaming, but she’s also aware of Katya getting out of bed and returning, slightly damp, and it seems like a new dream and a long time before the nose-licking starts. “Wake up!” Katya’s saying. Lick. “Wake up!” Lick, lick. “Wake uuuuuup.” Alaska fights a sneeze and opens one eye. “This again,” she says as she sees that it’s still dark in the room. She not-so-secretly loves her Katya-shaped alarm clock, but she’ll complain about it until she dies. “What is wrong with you?” Katya licks her nose again. “Wake uuuuuuup.” “I’m going to tell your parents you’re defective.” “They won’t take me back. They won’t take me back! You’ve already opened my box!” “Damn,” Alaska says, smiling. “I’m stuck with you.” “You are!” Another lick. “Wake up! It’s Christmas!” “Nobody over the age of ten is awake yet, Kati.” “But I wanted to give you a chance to play with your present before we have to leave,” Katya says. Alaska’s suspicious, but she grins anyway. “You got me a present?” “Of course I got you presents, you idiot. But I really need to give you this one in private.” She starts lifting the covers. “Oh, no, you didn’t,” Alaska says, covering her eyes. “I did!” Katya says. She grabs the hand Alaska has over her eyes and drags it down to her dick, which is decked out in the same red, green, and gold ribbon as the giant candy cane. Alaska pulls her hand back. “I can’t believe you,” she says fondly. “You don’t like it?” Katya shifts so she can press the ribbon against Alaska’s bare stomach. It tickles. “I’ll like it after the sun comes up,” Alaska says, pretending to turn away. Katya stops her and starts poking. “Al.” Poke. “Al.” Poke. “Al. How are you going to write me a thank you note if you don’t at least see if it works?” Alaska can’t fake it anymore. She gives in and cracks up. “I win!” Katya says. “Always. But I haven’t read the directions yet. I don’t even know how to turn it on.” “I’ll download the PDF for you later.” <i>(On New Year’s Eve, once Alaska’s back on the road, she’ll get a text with a detailed diagram and directions written in Katya’s handwriting, and it will make her day. And she’ll write a very dirty thank you note in response.)</i> Alaska laughs and stretches out on her back, pulling Katya on top of her and squeezing her ass. “Sooo,” she says, “I’m getting the feeling you want me to fuck you.” Katya gasps as if she hasn’t been dropping hints for two days. “How did you know?” “Women’s intuition,” Alaska says. “I’m in your head, baby.” She squirms and smirks and says demurely, “I mean, if you’re feeling it today.” “Like you need to ask,” Alaska says. “I’m just going to clean up a bit first, okay?” As she walks away, she hears Katya jump up and start rifling through plastic shopping bags, and decides she’s not going to ask. She’s glad she didn’t, when she returns a few minutes later. Katya’s not looking her way, so Alaska takes a step back to watch quietly. There’s obviously a surprise coming, and she doesn’t want to ruin it. Katya’s bent over, ass in the air, muttering to herself as she yanks a Santa hat out of one bag, and goes back to searching all the others. “Aha!” she says as she pulls out reindeer antlers and a wrapped box that’s just the right size for what Alaska thinks–knows–is in it. Alaska grins helplessly. She loves this lunatic so much. She ducks further back as Katya turns towards the bed, so it really is a surprise when she finally reveals herself. Katya’s laid out on her side, arm raised with a flourish. The Santa hat is on her head, and something suspiciously shaped is underneath it. “Merry Christmas!” she says, and points to her ribbon-wrapped dick. “Maybe I don’t need directions after all,” Alaska says. She steps to the edge of the bed, and Katya kneels in front of her on the mattress. “Take it off!” Katya says. “Take it off, take it off!” “What? My underwear?” Alaska asks, playing along. “That too. But no!” She gestures at the hat. “This, this, this!” Alaska does, and pretends to be surprised at the fuzzy antlers. “A shocking reveal!” she says. Katya grabs the hat and stands up to put it on Alaska’s head. “Hi Santa,” she says. “Do you want to see my shiny red ass? I can light up <i>your</i> sleigh.” “Ruining my entire fucking childhood,” Alaska says. Katya wheezes out a long laugh, very pleased with herself, so Alaska strips off her last bit of clothing, pushes Katya backwards onto the bed, and climbs on top of her. Then she kisses Katya madly, before Katya can say anything. They both moan happily into the kiss, and Katya opens her legs so Alaska can slide in between them. “Oh, my God, that thing is going to drive me crazy,” Alaska says, pulling back while Katya laughs at her. “You don’t like your present?” “This fucking ribbon.” Alaska tugs at it as she kneels between Katya’s legs. “It’s itchy as hell. How are you wearing it?” “I suffer for looooove,” Katya says. Cackling, Alaska tosses the thing aside, and lets Katya pull her head down to continue the kissing. But she’s got other ideas, so she starts moving south, to kiss Katya’s neck, her clavicle, her sternum, while Katya squirms beneath her. She follows the happy trail straight down, tugging on a few short hairs with her teeth, and skips right over Katya’s dick. “You complete cunt,” Katya complains, and thrusts her hips up to emphasize where she wants Alaska’s tongue. But Alaska shuts her up by sucking one of Katya’s balls into her mouth. She hums a random little tune, knowing the vibrations will drive Katya crazy, sucks in both balls, and smiles when she feels Katya’s hand land gently on her head. “Up or down?” Alaska asks. When she gets no answer, she tries again. “Kataya. Up or down?” “Oh, God, <i>both</i>.” “No,” Alaska says, and licks just below the scrotum. “You have to choose.” Katya groans and hesitates for a moment before yanking her legs up and out ot the way. “Good choice.” But Alaska doesn’t move, waiting for Katya to beg, which she does. Kind of. “What the fuck,” she says, tugging at Alaska’s hair. “Why isn’t your tongue in my sphincter yet?” Alaska laughs and traces a line with her tongue and laps at Katya’s hole just once. “Oh, my God, fuck you,” Katya says. “Always in such a hurry,” Alaska says before she starts licking again. She circles and tongues and strokes and gets lost there for a while, listening to all the delicious sounds Katya’s making. Eventually she asks, “Is this enough? Fingers?” Katya takes a minute to reply. Finally she tugs at Alaska’s curls again. “Put,” she says breathlessly. “I need. Mouth.” Alaska keeps her own mouth right where it is and holds up a hand for Katya to suck, and Katya does, hungrily. She shudders as she catches Alaska’s fingers between her lips, and Alaska shudders as Katya bites down. It’s painless, but Alaska says, “Ow, fuck,” anyway, to make Katya laugh. Then she raises her head for a few moments, watching Katya blissfully slurp on her fingers. Her eyes are closed, she’s breathing hard, and she doesn’t even seem to notice that Alaska’s stopped. Blissful Katya, anxiety free and living only in the moment, is always one of the most erotic things Alaska’s ever seen, reindeer antlers or not. She shifts her weight so she can wrap her free hand around her own dick, and licks up all the precum on Katya’s. Then she focuses back on Katya’s ass until Katya writhes and lets go of Alaska’s fingers to suck in a breath. Alaska uses those fingers to circle Alaska’s hole, and the change in sensation makes Katya’s eyes snap open. Laughing, Alaska sits up and asks, “So how are we doing this?” “You <i>do</i> need directions,” Katya says. “Let me rephrase. How exactly would you like my member inserted into your rectum?” “I don’t care as long as it’s inserted.” But then her eyes get wide and she says, “No! I do care! Lap sex!” She pushes herself up. “Come here! Sit here!” Alaska goes happily and lets Katya arange her however she wants. She ends up sitting against the headboard, with crossed legs. Katya reaches over her to get the lube and a condom, hands them both to Alaska, and watches Alaska unroll the latex. There’s a filthy look on Katya’s face as she sing-songs, “I want to see your eyes, and I want burning thighs.” “And I am happy to oblige,” Alaska says. “Always writing lyrics,” Katya teases. She holds her hand out for some lube and Alaska lets it dribble into her palm. Then they’re both slicked up and Katya’s straddling, then squatting over Alaska’s hips, one hand on Alaska’s shoulder and one between their bodies. Katya lowers herself slowly, making Alaska hiss at the tight heat. She meets Katya’s eyes and smiles, and Katya grins back at her. “Nice,” Alaska says Katya closes her eyes and sighs. She starts riding Alaska but stops quickly, her nose wrinkling up. “Okay?” Alaska asks immediately. “More lube?” “Mmm.” Alaska finds it and hands it over, and a few seconds later Katya’s smiling again as she slides down and sits unmoving on Alaska’s dick. She cradles Alaska’s face in her hands and kisses her, and kisses her again. They melt and fuse and grind together, slowly, with Katya’s dick trapped between them, until Alaska can hardly stand it. She wriggles a little, moaning into Katya’s mouth, and when that doesn’t work, she runs her fingers lightly down Katya’s chest, tickling. Katya laughs helplessly, and Alaska shoves her back far enough to grab her dick. “Oh, fuck,” Katya says. “Fuck yes.” She raises herself up, finally, and Alaska takes a deep breath as she slams back down. Alaska tightens her grip and all at once they’re both frantic, giving and taking, grunting and groaning and shivering, and she struggles to keep her eyes on Katya’s face. She wants to remember <i>everything</i>. “Yes,” Katya says. “Yes yes.” Then, “No,” as she shoves Alaska’s hand aside to pump her own dick. The pressure in Alaska’s groin is almost unbearable. “Thighs burning yet?” she asks. “I didn’t even notice!” Katya stills halfway down. “Fuck, fuck, ow, fuck.” But she starts up again anyway, and says, “Ow, ow, ow.” “Want to lie down?” Alaska lays her hands on Katya’s hips and puts some more effort into thrusting, to give Katya a break, but Katya just keeps saying, “Ow!” It’s adorable and funny and hot and Alaska’s so ready. She can hardly hold it in and she pushes up hard, to let Katya know. Katya moans out a long, “Aaah,” and softly touches Alaska’s jaw. “Come first,” she says. Alaska does, easily and breathlessly, her eyes glued to Katya’s. She watches Katya jerk off for a few seconds, then lowers her head just enough to bite one of Katya’s nipples. Then Katya’s groaning and the heat of her orgasm hits Alaska’s stomach. She looks down to watch Katya milk out the last drops and groans at how beautiful it is. “You’re,” Alaska starts, meaning to say something sweet and infatuated. “You’re so-” But she can’t finish, and she ends up smiling stupidly at Katya instead. “No, <i>you’re</i>,” Katya says.

Alaska drags her gaze upwards, and remembers what Katya’s wearing. “You’re a fucking reindeer.” “Thank you, Santa,” Katya says. “I really enjoyed my present, Rudolph.” “Oh, good,” Katya says. “I looked <i>everywhere</i>.” Chuckling, Alaska nudges her aside so she can tie off the condom and toss it on the nightstand. She lies down and stretches out and asks, “What time did you tell them we’d be there?” “Eleven or twelve,” Katya says, yawning. She shuffles around and ends up on her back with her head at the foot of the bed, and snuggles up to Alaska’s calf. Alaska kisses her toes. “So we can sleep a bit more?” “I love that idea,” Katya says. Figuring Katya’s too worn out to move, Alaska hands her a pillow and tugs out the sheet and blanket so she can join Katya at the other end of the bed. She wraps the covers tightly around them both. “Oh, I forgot to give you part two of your sexy present,” Katya says sleepily. “It’ll still be there.” “It might come to life! You never know.” She yawns again, and Alaska feels the exhale on the back of her neck. “Shit, I just gave it away, didn’t I?” Alaska yawns, too. “I didn’t hear a thing,” she says, and clutches Katya’s hand to her chest. <><><> Katya wakes to the sound of the shower. She stretches, looks at the clock, and smiles when she sees the Santa hat perched on top of the bedside lamp. Her head is throbbing, though, for some reason. “Ouch,” she says to herself. “Why?” Because she fell asleep with the reindeer headband on, that’s why. She takes it off and throws it in the direction of the shopping bags, then shuffles into the bathroom to pee and brush her teeth. “Good morning again!” she says to the dark shape behind the curtain. “You’re up!” Alaska peeks her head out and says, “Morning, Rudolph!” Then she hides again, laughing, as Katya tries to pinch her nose. By the time Katya’s done with her own shower, emerging with a towel around her waist, Alaska looks ready to go. She’s sitting in a chair with her legs curled up, reading a book, and she’s got Whitney Houston’s Christmas album playing on her phone. “You’re dressed already,” Katya complains. “You’re not,” Alaska says. Katya flings off the towel with flair and jazz hands. Alaska whistles, which is exactly what Katya knew she would do. Then Alaska tosses her a wrapped box that Katya barely catches. Katya’s spent a lot of time teasing Alaska about her aim. “Sexy present?” she says excitedly. “Sexy present,” Alaska says. “Where’s my part two? Does it involve you staying naked?” “That’s part three, and it’s for later,” Katya says. She looks for the gift she got out last night and forgot. Finding it on the floor by the bed, she hands it delicately to Alaska, because Alaska can’t catch, either. “Bitch,” Alaska says fondly. “Now?” “Now!” Laughing at each other, they both rip into their packages. Katya buys Alaska a different version of the same present every year, but she never knows exactly what Alaska will buy for her. “I knew it!” Alaska says when she sees the plug, which is a heavy and very pretty glass snowman. “It’s gorgeous. Where do you keep finding these things?” “I don’t. They find <i>me</i>.” Admittedly she had to look in every sex shop in Amsterdam before this one found her. “Oh! I’m wearing these today!” “All of them?” “Maybe just one.” The clear box is labeled “Gay Apparel,” and she holds up each Christmas-colored thong in turn, reading out things like, “Fuck Me, Santa” and “Sugar Plum Fairy” and “Taste These Christmas Balls.” “Which one?” she asks Alaska, and holds them all up a second time. “This Candy Cane Won’t Lick Itself,” Alaska decides. Katya smirks at her and puts it on. She strikes a few poses, and Alaska whistles again. “Are you going to wear that?” Katya asks, pointing at the plug. “You’re funny,” Alaska says. “I’ll starve myself if you starve yourself.” “Fuck, I <i>am</i> starving,” Katya suddenly realizes. “Can I have chocolate Jesus?” Alaska reaches for it, and Katya realizes something else. “You already ate a wise man!” “And he was deliciousssss,” Alaska says, stretching out the S, as she hands over the smallest piece. “No fair! He’s three times as big!” Alaska grabs Mary and hands her over, too. “Why am I the one that’s going to hell?” Katya asks. “I’ll be right there with you,” Alaska says. And she starts unwrapping Joseph.

<><><>

A little while later they’re both by the door, about to leave with their two big bags of presents, when Katya puts a hand on Alaska’s arm. “Wait.” Alaska smiles softly at her. “You don’t have to say it, sweetie.” “But I’m going to, and you know I’m going to, and you’d be disappointed if I didn’t.” “The first two are true,” Alaska says. “The third one not so much.” “Shut up,” Katya says, and leans in for a quick kiss. “<i>Thank you</i>, yet again, for rescuing me from my destiny as the spinster uncle all the kids feel sorry for. And for continuing to let me show you off on holidays.” <i>(“I used to go to all these family things, and I always knew I’d never have anyone to take with me,” Katya had said, the first year they were officially together. “Nobody would ever want to put up with the crazy.” Alaska had cried a little and kissed her and said, “I want all the crazy, all the time,” then complained about ruining the eyeliner she wasn’t wearing.)</i> Katya adores her family; Alaska knows how much Katya adores her family. But Katya spent much longer thinking she was unloveable, and it still makes Alaska’s heart hurt when she remembers. The Katya she first knew, barely knew, her coworker Katya, wanted love so badly but didn’t know how or where to find it, and made up endless jokes about loneliness instead. Blinking back tears, like she always does, Alaska says, “I’m the one showing your off. And I really love your vagina so freaking much.” Katya grins at her, joy overflowing in her eyes. “And I really love your pussy, you bitch.” They walk out the door hand in hand.

#katya zamolodchikova #alaska thunderfuck #katlaska #fluff #smut #christmas #kamylove #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant

[katie-dub]

The Princess of White Chapel (8/12)

Dr Killian Jones is having a terrible day. He’s got a mission, he’s got a time machine, he’s got … drunk. What could possibly go wrong?

AO3 | Tumblr

Rated M for alcohol use, violence, minor character death, frank discussions of depression and grief.

Thank you all for reading, liking and reblogging. I loved your amazing responses to the last chapter, I get a kick out of seeing what you think! I love this chapter - in fact, from here on out I love all the chapters - shit’s about to get real guys! My betas @ultraluckycatnd and @distant-rose made every chapter of this fic better - never more so than this one, which is full of London details that I couldn’t have included without help. @princesse-swan made my header - thank you to the @captainswanbigbang mods for matching us up, I couldn’t have asked for a better artist! 

Now on with the show...

The first thing Killian noticed upon waking up on Saturday morning was the refreshing breeze tickling his nose and filling the room. When he'd gone to sleep the air was heavy, an impending storm looming over the city. But somehow the air had cleared without a crack of lightning or peal of thunder. He might have been suspicious at the sudden change if he weren't so grateful for the reprieve.

For the first time in forever he could breathe easily (or perhaps it was only since last Tuesday, not that the British were ever needlessly melodramatic about the weather). Air. Sweet, fresh air. He greedily gulped it down.

The second thing was the soft chink of crockery bumping together. Emma.

He opened his eyes and sat up slowly, peering over the back of the sofa at her. She was rifling through the mugs in his cupboard and he watched, fascinated, as she searched for some unknown treasure.

Despite needing to reach up into the cupboard, she was stiff and tense, pausing often to just listen. She's like a frightened animal, he thought, on the alert for an imminent attack.

At one point two mugs knocked together with particular force resulting in a large crash. She tensed further still, shoulders flying up and slightly crumpling in on herself in what could only be described as a full-body wince. She froze, listened hard, damn near stopped breathing. She waited. Waited. Killian found himself mimicking her and hardly daring to breathe, not willing to share that she had already woken him, too intrigued by what he was seeing. Then after an agonisingly long few seconds she moved again and he too breathed a sigh of relief.

He could tell the moment that she found her treasure. The tension was gone instantly and she punched the air, doing a little wiggle of excitement. She grabbed her holy grail and pulled it out. It was a large white mug that curved inward at the base. The words “would you like an adventure now or shall we have our tea first” were emblazoned across it in an elegant handwritten scrawl. He couldn't help but laugh that this ridiculous gift from Belle - who knew his affection for Peter Pan (even if he did have an intense dislike for the eponymous character) - was her object of desire.

He realised his mistake at once.

She froze. He cringed. Busted, seemed to be their simultaneous thought.

Emma turned around slowly, hugging the mug to her. “How long were you watching me? Why didn't you tell me that you were awake?” she questioned, her accusing tone hard to ignore.

“Just a moment!” was his defensive reply, a moment too long, you creep, his inner demon hissed at him. “I didn't want to - I didn't mean -” he sighed and started over. “I'm sorry. I was trying not to startle you and honestly I was curious about what you were so desperate to find, but that was kinda creepy and, yeah, I shouldn't have done that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” Stop talking you babbling buffoon!

He expected Emma to lash out at him, perhaps remind him of some boundaries, but to his surprise she simply blushed and set the mug on the counter.

“Oh it's nothing,” she brushed off, “that's just the perf- a good size. For tea. If you happen to like that sort of thing.” She shrugged and slumped back against the counter in such a forced gesture it was almost comical, a parody of nonchalance.

Killian eyed her thoughtfully, realising that she wasn't used to having nice things. Or not used to being allowed to keep them. “You have it, love,” Emma's eyes lit up but she simply shrugged again, trying desperately to convey utter indifference. He knew only an equally strong display of indifference from him would induce her to accept it now. “I don't much care for it anyway, Belle should have known better than to get me a mug with that demon Peter Pan's words written on it.”

“He comes to your realm too?” she gasped in horrified amazement, the mug temporarily forgotten.

“Err, no? I just don't like the character in the book.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Perhaps that's just lingering bitterness on my part that he didn't steal me from - from normal life.” He had inadvertently almost revealed too much of his sorry beginnings in life, perhaps after feeling as though he intruded on Emma, she deserved his vulnerability.

But this felt too much.

Something about her though loosened his tongue, he felt a strong kinship with her that he could not explain. What could he possibly have in common with a princess? And why did she have that look in her eyes that he so often saw reflected in the mirror - the look of an orphan? She was a mystery. One he couldn’t solve without giving up his own secrets. But he wasn’t ready yet - maybe he wouldn’t ever be.

“So, you want to go get some new clothes this morning?” He asked, breezing past the awkward moment.

“I don’t need any - I’ll be fine in what I have.”

“Didn’t we cover this last night? Hardly seems fitting for a bad ass motherfucker to go around saving the realm looking like they might be doing a walk of shame.” Emma’s eyes narrowed at his words. He couldn’t be sure if his meaning was unclear or if she was just deeply unimpressed by it, but he felt the need to clarify. “Not that I think a lady should be judged by her clothing - never judge a book and all that - I just think that something more practical might be helpful.” Plus the tabloids will have a fucking field day if they catch sight of her performing magic while scantily clad, he thought. Right or wrong, this society was obsessed with women’s clothes and she didn’t deserve to be attacked over something that held no bearing over her ability to help.

“You’re right. I just feel like I owe you so much. Everything that you’re doing - that you’ve done. It’s a lot.”

“I’m not sure if I can ever do enough to make up for taking you from your realm. Possibly forever.”

There was the smallest grimace of pain that flashed across her face at his words. The most fleeting microexpression. If he weren’t studying her so intently he might never have noticed. But he was and he did and he felt sick at hurting this wonderful person. “This isn’t forever.”

“No?”

“I believe you can do this.”

Bloody hell, he didn’t deserve this utter faith in him. He’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone so completely on your side, to just know that he would do the right thing. That he could fix this. It had been so long since he’d had this.

Since Milah.

And once again he was stuck in a cycle of shame. Distressed at letting Milah down. He’d forgotten her. No. Not forgotten. But he’d lost her inside his stupid brain that couldn’t figure out how to save her or how to keep her memories fresh and alive.

Stop it.

He couldn’t do this again, not right now. He needed to break free of this cycle of shame, torment, and regret that was making him sick, keeping him stuck.

He took a deep breath of that clear, sweet, fresh air and closed his eyes. He felt a light touch on his arm. He started and looked back up into Emma’s disconcerted face.

“You okay in there?” she asked. “All this faith can be pretty intense, can’t it?”

He nodded slowly, intrigued. He’d found himself beginning to think of her as an open book to him - it never occurred to him that he might look the same to her.

“I think we understand each other pretty well, you and I. You think that I’m - what was it you said - marvellous? something like that? You’re so sure that I can just do this all so well, and that’s really … great. But that doesn’t make this less scary because what if I can’t? You want me to trust that you’re right. Well, this is me saying to you that you should trust me. It’s ok if you don’t believe that you can sort all this out, because I’ll believe in you enough for the both of us, got it?”

Killian felt embarrassingly close to tears at Emma’s emotional plea.

God this was one of the things that he missed most about having a partner. Milah’s support meant everything to him, and even when he didn’t - couldn’t - believe in himself she was always there for him. He’d lost so much when she died, and not just because she was gone, but because he shut himself off from the possibility of having someone else be there for him. He couldn’t let her be dead, he needed her not to be dead, so he tried to will her back into existence. And now that he was finally beginning to really come to terms with her loss - to accept that perhaps there was someone else who could be a true partner to him - he would have to lose her too.

The universe was laughing at him.

The universe felt a lot like Gold with his stupid high pitched giggle. He wanted to punch the universe in the goddamn face. Or maybe that was just Gold. But for once he wanted to show the universe, or Gold, or whoever that he could be better than this, that he wouldn’t be destroyed again.

He was ready to heal.

“Yeah, let’s do this. Don’t stop believing, hold on to that feeling.” He tried to be serious, but he smirked at the stupid reference, even if he was going to have the Glee rendition of that song in his head for the rest of the day.

Emma cocked her head to the side. “Why do I feel like you’re quoting something at me?”

His smirk turned to a laugh. “Because I am.”

She punched the air in delight. “I’m getting good at recognising these references of yours,” she said with a cheesy grin over her face. “Now, can we stop with all this serious talk and eat something? I’m starving.”

It took them far longer than it should have to get going that day - lingering over breakfast and both having lazy showers as though they didn’t have an important mission for the day. Maybe it was just that “purchase a new wardrobe for the princess” didn’t feel quite as significant as “fix whatever gaping wound in reality you’ve created”, but he didn’t feel the urge to rush.

They ambled down the city streets, past tall blocks of flats and two storey brick buildings. Past building work that was sure to make some flat owner incredibly pissed off that the grand view of the London skyline that they paid extra for was about to be blocked out. Past grand architecture, which clearly impressed and possibly even awed Emma in the way that London architecture often did with newcomers when to Killian it had become simply the bog standard backdrop to his life, and past scruffy shops, which did not.

They reached a barber’s shop with golden awning, ornate lettering announcing it to be the imaginatively named BarberBarber. A hipster sat in a vintage leather barber’s chair in the window, no doubt paying extra for the “authentic old school touch that money can’t buy” as he had his beard sculpted into the latest facial hair du jour.

Killian paid the shop little mind, turning right and walking through an impressive set of metal gates into a covered market.

He casually looked at Emma out of the corner of his eye as they strode through the stalls selling leather bags in a variety of shapes of satchel, all manner of quirky signage to suit your every interior decorating whim, scarves in every colour and pattern imaginable, tasteful abstract art, vintage pocket watches and other antique fripperies to suit the discerning hipster and foods of all varieties.

Milah used to love it here. So bustling and full of life. Excellent for people watching. Great for bargains. Occasionally offering hilarious items that they could only guess at the use of - usually ridiculous suggestions made in hushed whispers into each other’s ears until they had to quickly move on before earning the seller’s ire. He was letting Emma into a part of their London, and he desperately hoped that she approved.

Judging by her wide eyed looks of wonder, curiosity, and, occasionally, complete confusion, she did.

He made a beeline for a stall he always loved that sold genuine vintage band t-shirts at knockdown prices. They rifled through the racks, looking for possibilities. Emma made Killian smile by pulling out a ginormous Beatles Yellow Submarine t-shirt her eyes shining with glee and holding it up to herself.

“Bit big, don’t you think?” he commented, arching one eyebrow.

She blushed. “I’d wear it as a dress with a belt. I don’t know. I like yellow. But … yeah, it was a stupid idea.” She started to put it back, looking crestfallen, but he stopped her, feeling guilty for mocking her.

“If you like it, it’s yours.” Her smile lit up her whole face and Killian knew then, he would do anything to see that smile again.

They continued on, taking in different stalls and gathering up things that she would need, before it occurred to him that she would need underwear. He was certain that she wouldn’t appreciate him trailing along as she bought panties and bras so he pressed money into her hand and gestured her towards a suitable stall, fiddling with his ring as he waited.

She returned soon after, face flaming red. She clearly had bought something, but she was clearly deeply flustered by the experience.

Knowing he’d probably regret it, he took a deep breath. “Everything okay, Swan?” he asked, scratching at his ear.

“I - I -” she looked around awkwardly and leaned in close to him “- I don’t understand the corsets you have in your realm.”

“Oh!” He felt his own face redden as blood rushed to his face and he tried hard not to picture what she did - or possible did not - have on under his shirt. “Perhaps I could ask Belle to join us later and help out?” he asked, hoping that his voice hadn’t really risen an octave as he spoke, although he rather suspected that it had.

“Seriously?”

She was utterly incredulous and he could tell that this was the wrong thing to have said. “Yyyyeesss?” he said slowly, unsure what else to do.

“She’ll hardly believe that I’m really your colleague if I don’t know anything about… bras I think the sign called them?” Killian opened his mouth, honestly unsure of what the right answer might be to this excellent point. Emma sighed in frustration. “It’s fine, I’ll just go without.”

He really wished she hadn’t told him that. He made a show of looking away, so as not to stare at her chest. As he did so, he thought he caught sight of a familiar - and unwelcome - face in the crowd. But when he looked again, there was no one he knew in sight.

“Killian?”

He was still scanning the crowd suspiciously when Emma got through to him. He had no idea how long she’d been talking for. “Hmm?” he asked absentmindedly.

“I was just asking what’s next?”

“Oh love, you’re in for a treat,” he said, eyes gleaming.

He took her on a tour of the street art that was in and around Brick Lane. Emma gasped at the fine detail of the giant hedgehog on Chance Street, scowling at Killian when he laughingly clarified that such creatures did not in fact, exist in this realm - not at that scale, at least. She ‘awww’ed at the cute figures by Stik that were sprinkled around the area, wondering at how the artist conveyed so much with such simple drawings. She exclaimed at the vibrant colours they saw from numerous artists as they walked on by, loving the energy they brought to otherwise dull buildings.

Two moments stood out for Killian in amongst all of the beauty they saw.

He had a specific piece that he was eager for her to see, a large black and white heron on red brick. Emma was awestruck by the piece, gazing at it for several minutes in quiet contemplation.

“Thank you for showing this to me,” she said, eyes sparkling, “I can see why you love it so much.”

This filled Killian with pride and he couldn’t help but beam. “Milah painted it.” He smirked as Emma’s jaw dropped in surprise. “The council tried to cover it up a few years back but the community revolted.” He was boasting now and he didn’t care. “She always loved that street art was transient, that one day it might suddenly disappear, but to know that something she made is so special to other people, people who maybe didn’t even know her…” He gazed up at it, feeling a lump in his throat. “It means a lot.” He turned away before Emma could respond and strode off down the street, trusting her to keep up with him.

Later, he brought her to a car park that was covered in street art, walking past an artist holding spray cans, their fingers stained with colour and the chemical scent of paint in the air.

The door slammed open, and Killian crept out of their room, grinning at the sight of Milah gulping down a drink at their kitchen counter. Her curls tumbled down over her hoodie and she wore scruffy trousers, paint speckled across her clothes and coating her fingertips.

He snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He inhaled the scent of spray paint that always clung to her when she’d been creating on the streets. “You been painting, my love?”

Milah laughed and leaned back against his chest. “What gave it away?”

“Well you look awfully dirty, perhaps I could help you with that? These clothes need to come off for a start.” He grabbed her zipper and tugged on it.

She batted his hand away and turned in his arms to grin at him. “Something tells me that I’ll end up dirtier after your help.”

He licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” And he surged forwards to kiss her...

Killian was nearly knocked down by the force of the memory slamming into him. It had been years since he’d recalled Milah with such perfect clarity. He could practically feel the memory, could taste it, and it was all thanks to that smell. He was stunned. Perhaps he had been wrong to cut himself off from the art scene, if it could’ve kept Milah alive to him so completely.

“Everything ok?” Emma had at some point taken his hand in hers, and she was gently stroking it. Her face was a picture of concern. He hated that he’d worried her.

“Never better,” he said, putting thoughts of Milah to one side and tugging her into the car park. “In fact, looks like there’s a new piece for us to see. I wonder what it might - oh.”

He stopped short. Emma barrelled into him and they both stumbled. He pulled her into his side, placing his hand about her waist and pointing towards the freshly painted scene.

It was Emma.

She was radiating confidence, arms loose at her sides, wearing clothes similar to those she had worn when she first arrived in London, but with some key differences. Her vest was not worn on top of a shirt, and was fitted to her body, her boots stopped mid-thigh and she wore short shorts. There was a golden circlet across her forehead and her blonde hair flew out around her face. She stared down the viewer, looking strong and powerful, arms held loosely at her side, a lightsaber clasped in one hand. Light shone out from her like she was a goddess amongst men.

And alongside her were the words:

Our Saviour

A true Wonder Woman

The Princess of White Chapel

“Is that me?” she breathed, breaking away from him to move closer to the painting.

Killian smiled at the way she reached out as if to touch it, but stopped herself at the last second. “Aye, love. I’d say it’s a good likeness.”

She cocked her head, reading the words, and half turning to him, but seeming unable to quite tear herself away from the sight. “What does The Princess of White Chapel mean?”

“You’re in White Chapel. It’s this part of London.”

She frowned at turned to him. “But how could they know what I am?”

“I don’t think they were being literal. See this and this?” He stepped towards her and pointed to the lightsaber and circlet in turn. “That’s Leia’s weapon, and Wonder Woman’s crown, they’re two incredible, feisty and badass princesses from our popular fiction. They’re showing that you’re just like them, so you should be known as our princess.”

Emma choked up a little at his words. “Oh. Oh, that’s…” She didn’t finish the thought, just stared hard at the sight, until she was ready to leave.

But the day wasn’t overtaken by intense emotional moments, they were able to laugh at the funny art, to grimace at the dark and distressing and revel in the joy of the creativity that adorned the walls all around them. Where yesterday it had pained Killian to be so reminded of Milah’s love of art, today it was a comfort, a way of honouring her.

The only dark cloud was the constant sense Killian had of being watched. Time and again he thought he saw an old ally out of the corner of his eye, only to find that she’d disappeared when he turned his head. It was unnerving. If she was around there could only be one reason: Gold.

Emma hadn’t been keen to try any of the curry places they’d passed on their meanderings so he was taking Emma to one final gallery on their way back to catch a bus to Borough Market, where he was sure she’d find something she’d like. From the poncy wording of the exhibition listing, he wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but it could usually be counted on to provide more examples of amazing street art. Stolen Space with its sleek painted black brick frontage nestled in between ominous looking tall fences with spiked tips (which felt slightly counter to the whole purpose of showcasing street art in Killian’s opinion, but what’s life without irony?). But, before he could open the door, she flung her arm out to stop him.

“Why does it say Wish You Were Here on the windows?” she cried out in alarm.

“Name of the exhibition I expect,” Killian replied, unsure what the issue was with this innocuous phrase.

She turned to him, exasperation spread across her face. “Don’t you people understand how dangerous wishing can be?” she hissed indignantly.

He laughed, and anger flashed in her eyes. He sobered at once. “I’m sorry, but we don’t believe in wishing here. That phrase is just a platitude that people write on postcards.” She had relaxed as he talked but still looked wary - at the word postcard her nose scrunched in confusion. “Notes that people send home from their holidays. It’s meaningless, just a way to say ‘thinking of you’, what’s the harm?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “God people in your realm are so stupid.” “Hey!” Killian butted in indignantly, not appreciating the slight to his intelligence. “Wishes always go wrong,” she continued, “they shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

“You’re taking be careful what you wish for a little too literally, love.”

“Really?” Her mouth had dropped open in disbelief. He hadn’t thought she could be even more mystified by him than she already was, but apparently her incredulity knew no bounds. “So you do know that, you just choose to ignore it?”

Killian started to feel like they were having two entirely different conversations. “It’s just an expression,” he said feeling more than a little defensive over Emma’s continued ire.

Her face darkened and her voice went quiet. “You wouldn’t say that if you’ve seen the pain that wishing can cause.”

“Bloody hell,” he breathed out, face softening as he realised that Emma herself must have been somehow hurt by a careless wish. “I didn’t mean to upset you. We don’t - there isn’t -” He broke off, dropped his shopping bags and ran his hand through his hair. He wanted to find the right words to soothe this situation. “Wishes don’t come true here, it’s easy to be careless about something fictional -” Emma looked indignant “- I know that where you come from they are a fact of life, but here, they’re just another fairy story. I’m sorry for being so thoughtless.”

Emma studied her feet “sok,” she mumbled to the ground.

He stepped closer to her, intending to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, but he felt that prickle on the back of his neck of being watched and it made him anxious to leave. “Let’s skip this place and go get food shall we?”

They hopped onto the 47 and climbed up to the top deck of the red double decker bus. Emma was quiet on the journey, content to gaze out the window at the sights, until she spotted Tower Bridge as they made their way across the Thames. “Isn’t that where Lily landed the other day?”

“Yep. That’s Tower Bridge, it’s a major attraction.”

“Typical Lily,” Emma said, rolling her eyes.

“We’re on London Bridge - and we need to get off in a minute.”

When they were off the bus and walking towards Borough Market, Killian couldn’t help but wonder where everyone was. Usually this area was teeming with tourists and locals alike and while the streets were hardly empty there were still far fewer people around than he’d expect. It made him feel nervous, and he was already on edge.

When they made it to the market and he started to guide Emma around the stalls, he began to relax. It was hard not to, with the way she lit up at the sight of all the sweet treats on offer. He tried pointing out all the amazing savoury options, suggesting venison burgers, homemade pastas, cuisine from all over the world. But she still chose a salted caramel cronut the size of her fist and did a little wiggle of happiness, her eyes going wide with excitement as she took her first bite.

He good naturedly shook his head at her, as she refused to even try his duck fat chips. “These chips are actually legendary, are you sure?” he asked, taking one before stowing the rest in a paper bag as they walked by the Thames.

She shrugged. “My mom was taught how to use a bow and arrow by Hercules, legends don’t impress me much.”

“OK, so you have actual legends for family friends, my poor chips never stood a chance with you.”

“I’d definitely rather take a bite out of this cronut than Hercules any day.” Killian nearly choked at this unexpected innuendo, while Emma grinned mischievously, delighted at her own joke.

When he’d recovered from his coughing fit he asked somberly, “does he not quite measure up to the legend? The size of his herculean tasks not all that he claimed?” This earned him a smack. “You wound me, Swan,” he yelped with a grin.

Food purchased, he steered them towards the Tate Modern, aiming for the grassy area in front of it where they could people watch and he could finally settle down to enjoy his chips.

When they arrived it was already crowded with people driven to find any patch of grass they could to enjoy the sun in. An alarming number of whom had clearly been exposing far too much skin while wearing far too little sun cream and there was a veritable rainbow of sunburn on display. A few bold people had beer bottles in their hands, clearly ignoring the ban on public drinking in the area. Several people had picnics, most lazing on towels and blankets, but an ambitious pair had brought out a small picnic table, chairs, and appeared to be slicing up roast ham with a carving knife. Killian shook his head at some people’s idea of a picnic.

They found themselves a spot near a living statue performer who was sweating in silver paint and a silver suit. Killian had tossed a fiver into the man’s hat, feeling sorry for the poor bloke in the heat, marvelling at the endurance of both the man and his make up. He began a jerky robotic dance routine in thanks, which caused Emma to yelp and throw up her hands into attack mode in alarm.

“Relax,” he said with a laugh, gently pushing Emma’s hands down. “It’s just a performance.”

“Oh,” she replied, looking a little sheepish and laughing at herself. They settled down on the grass and he finally tucked into his chips.

“What do you think of it here?” he asked.

“It’s lovely, reminds me of a place back home.”

“Yeah I love it h-” He broke off as he yet again saw the ghost from his past. He had a chip halfway towards his mouth when he spied her, lurking at what she obviously thought was a discreet distance away. Ursula. She was undoubtedly following him and he couldn’t ignore her anymore.

“Long time no see!” he called out, dropping the chip back into the box as he stood up, instinctively placing himself between Emma and Ursula, at a distance though she was. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but we both know that’d be a lie.”

“Screwed up anymore lives recently?” Ursula replied cheerfully nodding towards Emma meaningfully as she strode towards them.

He seethed at her words and clenched his jaw, knowing that she was entitled to her anger. If he weren’t sure she was working for Gold, he’d even feel bad for her, knowing how he’d destroyed her life. As it was, he knew better than to respond to her jibes. “I’m sure that Gold has you out watching me, so just let him know that I’m not that easily intimidated.”

Ursula shook her head, as she closed the gap between them, a picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you mean, I’m just out enjoying a lovely summer’s day, like you and the lovely Emma.”

His nostrils flared and his jaw ticed as he took a deep steadying breath, trying not to let the use of Emma’s name get to him.

“Killian, what’s going on?” Emma stood up behind him, gently touching his shoulder to get his attention as she spoke. He turned to her, ready to offer her reassurances when Emma’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Fuck.”

He spun around immediately, kicking himself. He was sure that Ursula wouldn’t actually make a move today, or he would never have antagonised her.

What he saw was entirely unexpected.

The creature before him still looked like Ursula - after a fashion - their faces with their gorgeous smiles, chocolate eyes and dark skin were identical at least. But that’s where their similarities ended.

For one, the Ursula he knew tended to wear stylish, tailored clothing and was always impeccably dressed. Whereas whoever this was was wearing a fitted corset that accentuated her breasts and flared out at the hips, sculpted leather gloves that reached up past her elbows and an elaborate headpiece that looked to Killian like a cross between a tiara and sea foam.

For another, this creature had tentacles erupting from beneath her corset and slithering across the pavement and into the road.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, staggering backwards and bumping into Emma.

“Hook!” the creature snarled, glaring at him with murderous intent. “Do you know how many years I’ve waited to get my tentacles on you?”

“I - I - I don’t believe we’ve met,” he stammered, as a tentacle snaked closer to him.

“Oh move over, that’s Ursula the fucking sea witch!” huffed Emma. She shoved him sideways as though being attacked by an angry mermaid (what do you call a creature that’s half woman half octopus? Killian wondered, a little hysterically) over a case of mistaken identity on the South Bank were a common occurrence.

She rushed forward with her arms stretched out before her. Bright light blazed out from her hands.

The blast hit Ursula in the chest. She staggered backwards with the impact, crumpling in on herself. The tentacle that was almost upon them recoiled and reached up to her chest protectively.

Her head snapped up.

“Oh! Princess Emma! I didn’t recognise you,” Ursula jeered. “Consorting with pirates? What will Mummy and Daddy think?”

Killian was bewildered by the witch’s words. Judging by the confused glance Emma sent his way, so was she.

He was dimly aware of many things around him. The living statue shrugging off his jacket, picking up his hat and settling down next to them saying “I can’t compete with this”. A crowd of onlookers gawking and filming. There was the screech of brakes as a cyclist slammed to a halt, leaping from his bike as it slid out below him, coming to a stop just feet away from the tentacles.

(He also had a niggling thought to be annoyed at the constant Captain Hook jibes about him, just because he had lost his hand.)

“Oi what the fuck mate?” the cyclist yelled at them in his thick cockney accent. He clearly had no sense of self preservation.

One tentacle reached out lazily towards the bike, coiling around the middle of it and squeezing.

Metal scrunched as the bike was crumpled as easily as if it were paper. The tentacle flicked it lazily into the Thames where it landed with a loud splash.

Killian could hear more shouting. Londoners really needed to learn some chill. And possibly watch a goddamn Marvel movie once in a while. Now was the time to get the fuck out of dodge, not yell at sea witches with the ability to crush bikes with their bare tentacles.

Tentacles, thought Killian, the hysterics bubbling out of him.

“You shouldn’t have done that fucking Octopussy!” the cyclist continued. Perhaps they should start to include the rules of surviving apocalypse scenarios in cycling proficiency, mused Killian.

“I'm going -” but the cyclist didn't get to finish his entirely futile threat to the monstrous tentacled woman, because another tentacle had knocked him out.

Killian shook his head, unsurprised at the fate that had befallen the unwisely feisty cyclist, then looked up to assess how best to help.

Emma was firing magic at Ursula who countered with blasts of her own murky purple magic. Emma's pure light magic was clearly stronger, but Ursula’s tentacles gave her an edge. Four of them seemed to be struggling against invisible restraints, but the rest were writhing, thrashing and lashing out.

His mission was clear: take out the tentacles.

His possible methods to do that were less so.

His prosthetic was far stronger than a standard issue one and could potentially damage a tentacle, but that would require gripping and squeezing one, which given their speed seemed unlikely. He scanned for available weapons, thinking mournfully of those that Lily had destroyed the night she sent his lab up in smoke. Perhaps he should replace his stash.

Carving knife: most suitable weapon, required running to the pair with the overambitious picnic, and trying to persuade them that he should have their knife while there was a dangerous creature within spitting distance and leaving Emma alone. Also risk that they’d just stab him with it themselves at seeing him hurtling towards them.

Broken bottle: easier to access quickly, risk of damage to himself and possible others to procure it.

Keys: in pocket, potentially useless against the sea witch but right to hand.

He grabbed his keys in his right hand, laced them between his fingers and made a fist around the keyring. Wolverine claw it was not, but it should cause some damage.

Now, how to fight a bloody tentacle?

He knew hundreds of ways to hurt a man - the precise points to hit with a swift blow and cause maximum damage. But do octopuses even have pressure points? He racked his brain for knowledge of the animal; crazy smart, wily and incredibly strong was all he knew. He was sure he'd read tales of octopuses escaping their tanks into sewers or simply to visit friends.

Perhaps distraction was the best thing he could offer.

A potentially foolish plan sprang to mind. He moved to action before he could second guess it.

“MOVE!” he barked at a gathering crowd who scattered, shrieking. He sprinted past Ursula away from Emma towards a busker with drums that he’d spotted at what he hoped was a safe distance away.

“May I?” he asked the drummer, who had stopped drumming to watch the action and now silently handed over his drumsticks.

He turned to face Ursula’s back.

“OI! URSULA!”

He banged as hard as he could on the drums as he shouted.

Ursula had turned to the noise as he hoped.

“Hey sea bitch!” he called cheerfully, striding closer to her, “you want to kill a human? Well I’m the worst human around!”

She snarled and lunged.

A blast of almost blinding light from Emma hit her in the back and she fell to the floor rendered immobile.

The air shimmered and Ursula the monster was once again Ursula the human.

“What happened? Where was I?” she cried out in alarm. She looked up at Killian and glared. “Gold will hear about this,” she snarled and ran off.

“Be sure to give him my love,” he taunted.

The crowd around them burst into wild applause. Several of them surged towards him, pressing money into his hand and complimenting them on the performance. He pushed through them all in a daze, brushing off the living statue who wanted to know how they did their special effects. He stumbled over to Emma who’d found her way back towards their abandoned shopping bags and his now cold legendary duck fat chips.

He flopped down beside her, sighly sadly at what was left of his eagerly awaited food. He stretched out on the grass, giving his heart rate a few minutes to return to normal, before he sat up and fixed Emma with a winning grin. “Well, Swan, I hope you don't mind my saying, but I think we make quite the team.”

#csbb #cs ff #captain swan #ouat ff #cs fic #katie dub writes #tpowc

[padfootagain]

Four Rings

Thank you for your request Rose! I hope you like this little imagine!

This is a Thoughts AU! for Poe Dameron, our favourite rebel pilot! Requested by @cobalt-one.

Hope you all like this, pure fluff!

Gif not mine

Word Count : 1712

What are you doing?!

In Poe's head, your voice came in a worried tone. But your worry for him merely brought a smirk to his face.

He didn't need to open his mouth and speak in the commlink in his helmet to answer. The whole conversation happened in his head anyway. The two of you were connected since childhood. Normal thing all over the galaxy, for soulmates. You could hear his thoughts and he could hear yours. The telepathic link generally appeared after a vivid feeling or crisis. Something strong enough to reach across planets and worlds and stars to the person you were meant to spend your life loving. For the two of you, the link had been established right after Poe's mother's death. And since that night he had spent crying, you could hear his voice in your head every time a thought crossed his mind, and he knew everything about you through this whisper that buzzed across his brain at the same time as your thoughts formed in your head.

Although, the thoughts had no context, only words forming but no images, you didn't know where Poe was.But judging by his latest thoughts, you guessed that he was in his X-Wing.

Poe, what are you doing? Where are you?

You asked again, getting out of bed. You had woken up early that morning, and were now staring by the window at the inky sky above your head, the faraway asteroid rings surrounding your planet drawing strange lines in the sky stained with the light of the stars and the two moons.

Poe, answer me. Where are you? Are you on a mission?

He heaved a sigh as he guided his X-Wing across the asteroid field. He couldn’t keep on hiding from you. He had planned everything while you were asleep, while your voice disappeared from the back of his head. He didn't want you to worry too much for him. He could do it. He could pass through the First Order blockade around your home and across the lines of asteroid that separated your home from outer space. But you didn't agree…

I'm above your head.

You frowned hard, and as usual, your thought was heard before you could even finish to realize its meaning.

Above my head? Do you… Are you coming for me?

It was about time to get you out of this place, don't you think so, sweetheart?

But Poe… It's too dangerous!

Danger is my middle-name. Beebee can testify.

You will never pass that blockade!

I'm already half-way there.

The asteroids…

A piece of cake.

He instructed BB-8 to give him more power in an attempt to lose the two TIE fighters that had appeared behind him. He rolled his ship around several times to avoid the pieces of rock and ice that drifted around him.

No, he was lying, it was far from being a piece of cake.

And no, he was far from having left the First Order behind.

The asteroid right next to him exploded in thousands of shreds of ice and rocks, a few pieces hitting the X-Wing, but BB-8 was fast and identified no damage.

"Are you alright, buddy?" Poe checked on his loyal companion.

But the beeps that followed were only reassuring, the little droid was alright.

"Good, I'm going to try a stunt, and I know you won't like it. So hold on, buddy!"

Poe? Is everything alright?

He was flying so fast, straight towards a large asteroid. It was madness… but he was so tired of waiting for this war to be over to finally meet you for real…

The thought formed in his mind before he could control himself, and you knew that it meant that Poe was in danger.

I love you, sweetheart. I always will…

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

 Your eyes were fixed on the sky. You couldn't hear Poe's voice in your mind anymore. This reassuring, constant whisper that kept your hope for better days so high was silent now. Your eyes studied every light, every trace in the firmament in search for a sign, for him… But you couldn't see anything.

You ran through your home and the grass before your house, waking up your whole family in the process but not caring for a single second. You didn't even realize that they were walking out of the house too, asking you what was wrong. All your thoughts were condensed in a prayer.

Poe, please, don't leave me.

You had never met him, you had no idea what he looked like, and yet he was the most important person in your life. You couldn't lose him. Not like this, not because of you…

Poe, please, don't leave me.

You were crying by now, and that's only when your mother's hand rested on your shoulders that you realized that she was standing there next to you.

"What's wrong?" she asked you, her voice still thickened by sleep.

"Poe's out there," you whispered. "He's trying to get through the blockade."

"Why would he do that?! Is he mad?!"

But you shook your head, a smile spreading across your lips despite the salty tears that kept on running down your cheeks.

"Me. He's doing it for me."

Poe, don't leave me.

When his voice came back as a whisper in your mind, your smile turned into a grin.

Leaving you? Never, sweetheart. I'm coming. Hang on.

You waited, just as he had asked you to, your family trying to get you back inside, but you didn't. You trusted him.

He would come at last. You didn't know what had triggered his decision, but he was on his way to see you… for the first time.

You looked down at your night gown, and guessed that your hair looked messy, your naked feet tickled by the grass.

You should have prepared for this… try to make a good impression. Even if it was a bit stupid, you were meant to be with him, and he was meant to be with you.

But you didn't have enough time to think about it much, as you guessed a ship approaching above the distant forest, the top of the trees shaking under the powerful engines.

You waited, transfixed, following the movements of the X-Wing crossing the world, crossing the galaxy, crossing outer space, just to see you.

You watched as Poe landed in a nearby corn field. You guessed his silhouette cloaked in orange as he climbed out of the cockpit. You saw him throwing his helmet back inside, before turning towards you and striding in your direction.

You hurried to meet him halfway, forgetful of your family still standing behind you, oblivious of all your neighbours walking out of their houses to see what was happening.

The light was dim, merely brought by the two moons above your heads and the distant stars, but when you and Poe came close enough to see each other's features, you both froze.

You had pictured a thousand versions of him, but stars, he was so handsome.

And he had played this scene in his head again and again, but he had never imagined that you could be that much breath-taking.

"Poe?"

A grin formed on his lips. It sounded different, to hear your voice for real, and not your thoughts. To hear the words that formed on your tongue and passed your lips instead of the ideas that your brain created.

"Hello, sweetheart," he breathed, emotions tightening his throat and making hard for him to speak, his voice made a little bit hoarse.

You let out a nervous laugh, before rushing towards him. He caught you in his arms and held you so close, close enough to let you know that he didn't want to ever let go.

You were both crying and laughing out of pure joy, holding on each other like you had dreamt about for years.

He smelled like burned oil and stars and you lost yourself in his scent, melted against his chest, until you couldn't tell where you body stopped and where his started.

"May I say," he whispered softly against your ear. "I've been imagining how you would look like for years, and I was wrong all along. You're so much more beautiful in real…"

"Same for you," you whispered back with a wide grin.

You pulled away just enough to dive into his warm brown eyes.

"How did you pass the three rings of asteroids? How did pass the blockade?"

"Later," he shook his head. "We'll talk about how later."

"Later?"

"There are two very important things that I need to do first?"

"What is it?"

"Well, first thing first…"

Before you could react, Poe had crushed his lips onto yours. And for a moment, for as long as Poe and you kept on kissing, the world stopped, and there was nothing in this gigantic galaxy but the two of you finally kissing for the first time.

When you pulled away, struggling for air, you could only grin and feel dizzy.

"You're right, that was an important point," you whispered, making him chuckle.

"Now, the second thing," he grinned.

Before you could react, he was kneeling before you.

"I love you, sweetheart. And I know you love me. And not just because fate guided me to you and connected us all these years ago, I love you for so many more reasons. For every single detail, for everything that makes you be you. And I want to feel this way until my last breath. So, Y/N, would you marry me?"

He handed you an old golden ring that you recognized in an instant like the ring his mother's. He had described it to you years ago… he was to give it to the woman he would love forever.

You were crying all over again.

"Of course… yes!" you nodded, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up to press another passionate kiss on his lips.

It's only when the thunderous applause and the merry beeps reached your ears that you remembered that the whole village was now watching the scene from afar.

But you didn't care. Because at that moment, there was no fight, no Rebellion, no First Order, no war…

…Just happiness and love all over your world.

*************************

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