#today was so weird too like i also saw this creep get arrested in a convenience store after harassing one of my classmates

[angryborzois]

still in shock over the fact it actually snowed

SNOW IN THIS AREA

I LIVE IN LOW ELEVATION AND A RATHER SOUTHERN AREA BRO GOODNIGJT

#everyone was freaking out and running around like idiots #and for a minute i couldnt comprehend what was happening #so i just stood there staring at the sky along with other people with my hands in my pockets #and i went #hmm that rain looks weird #THEN IT CLICKED #SNOW??? #NO WAYY #i lost my shit after that #today was so weird too like i also saw this creep get arrested in a convenience store after harassing one of my classmates #idk whats happening anymore tbh the world must be ending #angryborzois rambles

[achliegh]

Golden

Prologue

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter 1:

Picking Wildflowers

“Ohhhh Leo! Oh Leo! Leo! More More!”

“Please Leo I’m soooo cloosse! Ah! AH! AHHHH!”

Laughing both Finn and Logan were clapped on their shoulders as Thomas and James came up behind them. Red faced Logan and Finn laughed a long, a little more awkwardly and stiff, but much more relaxed than they were at the beginning of the trip.

They kept poking fun and walking beside each other to bump shoulders. Finn, who had a mild limp, and Logan , who still has a bite mark on his ass cheek, walked into the locker room. Everyone had heard the two of them moaning last night with their angelic cowboy so the chirping wasn’t a surprise. Then again, when everyone noticed Finn limping instead of Logan they couldn’t help but stare in wild amusement.

No one on the rest of the team got to meet Leo so they all thought he was some scrappy hick who is into threesomes. Which he is, but he also is one of the sweetest people Logan and Finn had ever met! He gave them a goodmorning/goodbye kiss. What an angel, but they don’t know that, or that he snuggled with them all night even when Logan thought he was a comforter in his sleep and tried to kick him off the bed. He held them just as close as they have held each other for years.

It brought a lot of feelings to the surface that Logan didn’t want to acknowledge yet. Finn knew he was got to daydreaming about Leo’s sweet words he whispered before they even got him into bed, all day.

“Is this all we are going to hear about today?” Logan sets his bag down in his stall and starts undressing. Huffing annoyed as he looked in his bag for his practice jersey.

“You think we would talk about anything else when your moaning of a hillbilly’s name is still fresh in our brain?” Sirius walks past them and bumps Logan playfully with his hip so he jolts forwards a little having to catch himself with his hands in front of his face so he doesn’t faceplant into the locker behind him. The shorter guy glares a little and sticks out his tongue in a show of true maturity. Taking off his pants and changing before anyone sees the bite, he turns around to sit and put his socks and tape.

He feels a tap on his thigh and looks at Finn who is holding his phone so only they can see it, and there is a text from Leo. They had both sent him good morning texts and added him to a group chat because they honestly really liked him, they literally talked about Leo as they got dressed that morning, but they weren’t for sure he would actually answer them.

Text From: Cowboy Sweet Ass

8:15 am

Y’all want to come help me with something later <3

I want to see you again before you leave :)

They share a look of equal excitement and slight arousal from what this implies, Finn texts Leo back, both having this dazed almost soppy look on their face, especially when they looked at each other. Leo was having an effect on the guy and everyone on the team could feel it. Chirping aside, they were happy for them. Maybe this would get them to finally talk to each other.

They could hope.

Leo was dressed for success, overalls without a shirt that were pretty baggy on him and his square-toed work boots, he was sweating in the summer heat as he pushed his hair back under his ball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes as the ranch hands worked with the horses and he worked on fixing the baler. It was nine am and over 80 degrees, sometimes he doesn’t enjoy Louisiana as much as he thinks. But nothing could ruin his mood, humming cheesy love songs to the radio, tapping the rhythm on the machine. Smiling, he takes a step back from the bailer and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the rag from his pocket.

He sees a light blue 1967 Chevy C/K10 pulls up the dusty driveway and parks in its usual spot next to the main house. Who else but Clayton, the man of the hour, hop out of the truck wearing one of his stupid short ass crop tops that stop just below his nipple, making it easy for Leo to tweak them when he annoys him, with his jeans, belt, and boots that are falling apart. Strutting over to Leo he smiles bright and meets him by the bailer.

Leo smiles and they dap, tapping their foreheads together.

“Sooo, how was last night? I saw you leave with those two buffies and I knew you were getting double.” Clayton smiles and hands Leo the wrench he needs when Leo holds out his hand and laughs a little. Leaning on the machine and tipping his head back to soak in the sun.

Leo and Clayton have been friends since kindergarten, having never been apart for more than two days, they told each other everything. They were so close that their parents think they are going to end up together someday. They feel different about it. But they tell each other everything, everything, maybe even too much sometimes.

Traveling together for rodeo has gotten them so close that people just assume they are related somehow. It gets weird when they drunkenly kiss sometimes though. Clayton roping calves and Leo riding bulls has made them a hot commodity with the ladies but they make it clear that they aren’t interested… or that Leo isn’t interested. Clayton would still tap that.

“Dude, they were amazing! Fuckin Montgomery Gentry got me laid.” Leo waits a second for Clayton to catch on, then when it clicks that he is talking about Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy, when he stands back up from where he was squatting next to the baler to fix the belts and gets a slap on the back as Clayton whoops. Jumping around he shakes Leo’s shoulders.

“That's fucking hilarious! They took that song literally! Damn, you gotta try and keep ‘em, are you seeing them again? Or was this one of your hook ups that could work but you don’t want it.” Leo narrows his eyes at Clayton and grabs him into a headlock, struggling to get away from the 3” taller man. Clayton falls to the ground when Leo lets him go.

“I don’t do that! Plus, I want them to go out to secret with me tonight.” Leo looks at him while wiping the grease off his hands and squinting a little as the sun gleams off the metal right into his eyes. The red creeping down his neck doesn’t go unnoticed by the dusty friend and he smirks at him.

“Playboy Leo going on a real date… damn they must have really had an impact on you.”

“Well they rode me at the same time, so that left an impression. It’s funny how I feel more comfortable with two people rather than one.” They start walking towards the house to grab some water and tell Eloise that Clayton is here, so when Judy calls they can tell her that her son is indeed still here.

“One on the dick and one on the face or something weird?” Leo smiles and shakes his head as he gulps down a glass of water.

“How do you just always know?”

Text From: Cowboy Sweet Ass

6:01 pm

I’m outside Sweethearts

ShortCake

6:01 pm

Comming out

CarrotStix

6:01 pm

I’m gey

Leo laughs a little as he reads the texts, he hasn’t stopped smiling all day after he gushed about the boys to his mom and sudo-brother. Texting them when he could he didn’t have time to change before he came to pick them up, but knowing how they react to him… it will be just fine.

Logan gets into the truck first, sliding into the middle and planting a kiss on Leo’s cheek making them both smile brightly and dopey. Finn gets in and leans over Logan to plant a steamy kiss on Leo’s slightly dry lips, taking him by surprise but he melts into it, pulling away until they are still close enough to bump noses.

“Hi” Leo can’t help but laugh as Finn smiles a blushes before sitting back and buckling up, Logan grabs his face looking a little excited and gives him a kiss as well, a bit more possessive and sharp but when they pull away Logan gets buckled while Leo is still blinking in shock.

“Nice to see you too.” He smiles stupidly and relaxes into the seat before switching gear and starting to drive, the rink is close to the outskirts of town. “Alright, tomorrow is mama’s birthday! So.. that means I need to get her some of her favorite things, like wildflower, smooth rocks, and some honeysuckle. I’m taking y’all to a place only Clayton and I ever go, and it has all of those things… and we can go skinny dipping because I like seeing y’all naked.” Leo smiles innocently at them for a moment as he pulls onto a gravel road and starts driving.

“You don’t plan to kill us right? I mean we could probably take you but… I’d rather you take me” Logan bites his lip and leans into Leo’s side, Leo takes his hand off the steering wheel to wrap it around Logan’s shoulders and takes one of Finn’s hands.

“Ditto.” Finn smiles and is looking out the window in awe, as someone who has grown up in the city and really hasn’t been outdoors much he isn’t used to seeing all of the thick trees and wild plants. He squeezes Leo’s hand in excitement.

After a half hour of driving and listening to some oldies music on the radio, they pull over to the side of the road and Leo turns off the truck. “Okay, one more kiss” He leans over and kisses Logan with hand on the back of his neck, humming in contentment before smoothly pulling away and kissing Finn in one smooth motion. He pulls away and sighs happily leaning his head back on the seat, when he opens his eyes he sees Logan and Finn kissing and his heart skips a beat watching them. “Okay, we have a job to get done before we get into some sexy stuff!” Leo is more so reminding himself than the other two who pulled away and are looking at him the same way they did last night.

Getting out of the truck Leo walks toward the woods he pulled up next to and notices the boys aren't behind him, turning around he sees Finn looking at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes through the window. Oh yeah, the door is sticky.

He can’t get the door open.

Laughing Leo walks over to the door and opens the jammed door with ease, bowing slightly. “Your majesty” Finn snorts and gets out of the truck before patting Leo’s head and moving out of the way for Logan to hop out.

Logan takes Leo off guard by leaning his full body weight into him after he closes the door, Leo being the sweetheart he is, just scoops Logan up like he weighs nothing and smiles when he lets out the most manly squeak. Finn sneaks a picture smiling as he moves to their side.

Leo leads them through the thick woods and only sets Logan down when they reach a Grove with a crystal clear small lake and flowers everywhere. It was beautiful.

“This is what we call Secret, because we don’t think anyone really knows about it but” He shrugs “Maybe someone does.” He walks forward and sits on a stump, around the stump is a bunch of small white flowers that are two lipped and smell very strong.

Finn walks towards the water and sees a bunch of minnows socializing in the shallows, crouching down he feels the water, taking note of how warm it is. Logan was mesmerized by all the flowers growing, all different colors of shapes. Bee’s buzzed around the surprisingly silent grove and Logan watched them before picking a couple handfuls of flowers.

Leo looks up at Finn first and smiles as he sees him picking out rock he finds because Leo mentioned they needed some, and then his eyes move to Logan who is holding armfuls of beautiful flowers and even has a couple of leaves and petals in his extra curly hair from it drying in the humid heat. Leo felt so at peace with the whole situation. It felt natural.

Logan hears someone walking toward him and looks up with his arms just overflowing with flowers, Finn is carrying handfuls of wet rocks that keep falling out of his hands and he keeps bending to pick up to just… drop more. It was funny and Leo seemed to agree as he was taking a video of Finn dropping and picking up stones.

“Here” Leo holds out a cloth bag and catches the rock that just fell out of Finn’s hand to finally stop the cycle. They put everything in separate appropriate bags before setting them on the stump Leo was sitting on before.

Turning to the boys and smiling, Leo unbuckles his overalls and drops them after he kicks off his boots, so he is just standing there in his tight teal boxer briefs that have dumplings on them. His smiles turns into a teasing smirk as he turns to face the lake having his back to his boys and takes his underwear off before looking over his shoulder at them and then running into the lakes and driving in. Fin and Logan strip so fast, tossing their clothes wherever and following this Casanova into the water.

Two hours of dunking, kissing, splashing and holding each other close. They decide to lay in the short grass of the grove where the flowers don’t reach, sprawling out in a circle, the top of their heads facing each other. They pass around a spliff that Leo brought in the pocket of his overalls. Relaxing in the setting sun as they air dry.

“What day do you guys leave?” Leo has his eyes closed as he is relaxing holding his hand out for the spliff as Finn shotguns Logan, handing it to Leo as they end up sloppily kissing each other before pulling away to answer.

“A week, so you can call us up anytime.” Finn smiles and rolls onto his stomach propping his head up on his hands as he watches the smoke fall from Leo’s lips. His eyelids feel a little heavy as the exhaustion from practice and the cbd from the weed soak into his nerves.

“Are we going to have sex tonight?” Logan also rolls onto his stomach bumping into Finn’s shoulder as he clumsily does so. Leo opens his bright eyes and tips his head back to look at them. “I am really tired but… I also kinda want to suck you dick.” Leo huffs out a laugh and flicks the roach into the lake where a fish slurps it up later.

“I would not say no to that, sweetheart.” Leo bites his lips a little as Logan flushes pink and crawls over to him sliding between his legs leaving light kisses and nips on the tops and inner of his thighs and watching him get hard. Then Logan notices it.

“Do- do you have a worm tattoo with a lasso on your inner knee?” Logan can’t help but laugh as Leo nods smiling. Finn, who has been in heaven watching, joins Logan between Leo’s legs and notices the small tattoo as well and kisses it.

“I have a bunch of little ones. Can you blow me now?” Leo props himself up on his elbows, an adorable blush spread across his cheeks and nose make him look so delicious. Finn and Logan share a look before smiling and licking up Leo’s shaft on opposite sides causing Leo’s head to fall back and his knees to spread more. “Fuck.”

Logan and Finn continue to mirror each other as Logan massages Leo’s taint and balls while Finn sucks on his head, Logan on the base.

Leo is a mess.

His back arching, his jaw tense from making himself hold off from fucking up into their mouths or grinding back onto Logan’s hand. He is gripping the grass so his hands will be stained tomorrow, sweat beading on his hairline and chest. Moaning every once in a while when he can find his voice.

Finn takes him down as much as he can as Logan squeezes just right causing Leo to cum hard, throwing his hands in his hair and tugging it. Once he finishes riding out his orgasm he just flops down all boneless.

“Give me a minute and I’ll get you off.” Leo exhales slowly and props himself up to look at them and a flush of want rushes through him. Finn had gotten himself off on Leo’s leg, how he didn’t notice he didn’t know, Logan looks like he hasn’t moved but his face was blissed out, he came untouched and if that wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing Leo has ever seen. He didn’t know what was.

Cleaning themselves up with some lake water and getting dressed they carry their treasures back to the truck. They all slide in and make their way back to town. Leo sings some shitty old songs with his hand on Logan's upper thigh as Finn has his head on his shoulder drifting in and out of sleep, by the time Leo makes it to the hotel they are staying at, both of them are asleep. Kissing their foreheads he slowly shakes them awake.

“We’re here, come on darlings, let's get you to bed.” He gets them up and smiles as Finn stretches like a cat and snuggles into his side as he supports them on either side. Walking them to their room he waits for one of them to unlock the door and hears a couple of guys yelling around a ‘cheater in go-fish!’ and Leo can’t help but wonder what it's like to travel with a team like Logan and Finn’s.

After a few tires Leo just takes the key from Logan and swipes it to unlock the door. Leo stumbles a little as they both lean forward. He sits them on the bed and get them undressed.

“What do you like to sleep in?” Leo asks as he located their bag in the corner of the room. Logan mumbles something about Finn’s shirt and Finn just mentions boxers. Leo gets them situated, having Logan lift his arms so he can put Finn’s shirt on him. It's baggy and makes Logan look so sweet that Leo can’t help but lean down and give him a sweet kiss.

Tucking a smiling Logan into bed he moves to get Finn under the covers and see him pouting.

“Wa kith” Leo tries not to groan at how these two beefy boys can be so sweet and cute that it hurts his chest. He gives Finn a kiss and pulls away, watching the two snuggle into each other.

Leo realizes he wants this, every night.

Swallowing down the sudden fear that crashed over him he turns to leave, forgetting to put the hotel key on the night stand he doesn’t realize he still has it until he is getting ready for bed himself in his room that's too large for one person.

Now he has an excuse to see them again.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

[dragon-of-dreams]

Pieces

My Masterlist

 Part four to Cracking a Code; Previous Part

 Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader (fem)

 Warnings: Swearing, gaslighting, stalking, aftermath of noncon, noncon touching

 Summary: The next day can’t be real, can it? Or where y/n goes into work and gets hit by a strong sense of deja vu.

 Word count: 2k

 A/n: I’m so sorry that this a) took so long and b) has so much plot not much else, but well I promise it’ll get creepier next chapter!

 ~*~

The next morning you woke before your alarm clock, which was good because it gave you time for the world’s longest and most thorough shower.

And was also terrible because you woke up and it was still real.

It happened.

 The intensity with which you scrubbed down your body was straight out unhealthy and you only stopped when you realized how close you were to breaking skin. He’d hurt you, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hurting yourself over him. You were hurting enough as it was.

While that mindset stayed with you, you were also shaking the entire time it took you to put on clothes and get to the office. Leaving your apartment was harder than you had ever imagined it being. For the first time in your life, you could understand those people you sometimes saw on the television, who hadn’t left their homes in years. You’d give anything for a reprive of having to live what was now your daily life. You knew it wouldn’t end and hiding in your apartment sounded oh-so-appealing, if – in your case – completely useless.

You used the short elevator ride down to your apartment lobby for some breathing exercises, put on a smile for your doorman, and in front of the double doors leading out into the Brooklyn sunshine you froze.

You knew Steve wouldn’t be there to follow you around. No, he wouldn’t stoop that low. But then again, he didn’t have to. You were terrified as his words rang in your ears: Good thing I had Buck accompanying you home. As you stared out into the busy street before you, you knew without a doubt, in your heart, that Bucky Barnes, the fucking Winter Soldier, was out there waiting for you. Watching you. Never leaving you. You were fucked. There was no running away.

“Miss? Are you alright?” You turned your head to the porter approaching you from behind his desk where he kept guard over his proverbial sheep, unknowing that you’d been torn by the wolf already.

You forced a smile: “Yes, thank you, uh, “ your eyes flew to his name tag, “George. Work has been keeping me so busy lately I’m turning into the weird professor guy from the movies!” you laughed and George chuckled but eyed you worriedly. “I’ll see you later, Miss. Please take it easy at work today. Tell Mr. Stark to cut you some slack!” You smiled and nodded at him: “Will do. See you tonight” and with that, you pushed through the doors and the pit in your stomach. Out into the bustling life of New York City.

You didn’t look behind you as you briskly walked down the street to the subway, but you could feel Bucky’s eyes on you like the fog creeping in in early October. It was an all-consuming feeling, creeping in from the sea to swallow you whole.

But you kept your head up high. You weren’t a stranger to being afraid, to being bullied. You had been the smartest student in every class you had ever taken and men didn’t appreciate being beaten by a woman. You hadn’t backed down when you were a kid, you wouldn’t bow down now, not to Captain America and most certainly not to the Winter Soldier! You knew you were putting up a façade but if you didn’t you wouldn’t have made it out of bed this morning, maybe never have left it again, but that wasn’t you.

‘Oh yes, the times are changing and those boys better get with the program’, you thought grimly as you stepped into a subway car and crossed your arms, staring at the open doors, waiting for your shadow to make an appearance.

Bucky entered through the doors to your left. You almost missed him, but now that you knew you weren’t looking for blond and beefy but brunette and murdery it was a lot harder for him to play invisible. He was good, but you were better.

But by God was he confused when you approached him. “Good morning, Mr. Barnes. I don’t know what Steve told you about me, or what your involvement in all of this is, but here is what I am telling you: Fuck off. I don’t want to see you or him again, so make sure he gets the message?”

Before Bucky could reply you moved away from him and slumped down in between two elderly ladies, the perfect shield from anyone getting close to you. Even Bucky knew not to harass a woman in front of two NYC ladies. They’d beat him to death with their shopping bags. You smirked at the mental image you had created in your mind, escaping reality even if getting away was only temporary.

Once you were sitting, the pain you had ignored so diligently came back with force. Your lower half was cramping and sore and you wanted to cry from the pain of it, but no, not while Bucky was there. Not ever again, while any man could see. ‘When had you turned to hate men for what one had to you?’ you wondered.

Bucky disappeared one stop before the tower and you were relieved that he seemingly had realized how dead-serious you were.

The second you entered the tower, you were utterly, abnormally calm and finally stopped shaking. You didn’t have a plan yet, but you knew you’d have to get away, away from this place and Steve and all the pain he’d caused you. After all, you could barely move without hurting.

You could go and teach at any university in the country. They’d love to have you. All you needed to figure out how to quit without seeming suspicious. That was going to be difficult because Tony knew you loved your job. But you couldn’t tell him the truth. No one would believe you if you told them the real reason and you had worked too hard to now be labeled as a crazy fangirl/stalker-lady. You huffed. If only they knew who the real stalker was.

You smiled at your secretary, thanked her for the coffee she had bought for you on her way to work. You squared your shoulders and open the door to your office ready to start your day.

When you entered your office you were hit with a strong sense of déjà vu, you started to shiver again and felt all color leave your face. You almost dropped your coffee.

Steve was in your office again. But luckily – blessedly even – so was Tony. What the actual fuck? You cursed in your mind but tried to smile. It didn’t work judging by Tony’s expression.

“Y/n, are you all right?” he asked while crossing the room towards you. “You don’t look too good.” Before Tony’s outstretched hand could touch you, you took half a step back. “I think I’m coming down with something. The flu, I guess,” you mumbled.

“Then why didn’t you stay home?” said a sincerely concerned voice – Steve’s. Sincerely concerned? No, it couldn’t be! Your creepy-man-radar must just be off, right?

“I… I… I promised Jarvis to teach him about the code. I forgot yesterday” you murmured turning to the super-soldier, whose brows were drawn up in concern and he was leaning forward, looking you over as if to check for injuries or signs of your alleged flu. ‘What was going on?’

“Is there anything I can do for you gentlemen?” you asked. Steve smiled at you at that. His smile was stunning. So… open and kind. And WHAT THE HELL??? No! His smile wasn’t kind! He was your rapist! Except that it was. There was no denying that. If your entire body hadn’t been hurting maybe you would’ve started talking yourself into the fantasy that yesterday hadn’t happened, but it did. But his smile was nothing like yesterday. His smile made you want to trust him. 

“Well, y/n, I just wanted to congratulate you and Stevie here wanted to thank you for your speedy work. We were able to arrest 20 people yesterday because of the intel you decrypted.”

“Yeah? That’s great” you forced out and turned back to Tony, but your eyes kept straying to Steve.

“Were you working late again, Gaia?” Tony suddenly asked. Shit. Tony had been on your ass to get a life. “No, no, why?”

“Because you look, and please forgive me for being frank here, worn out and really sick. I told you to take better care of yourself. Work isn’t everything, you know?”

You were about to call Tony out on that, after all, he was famous for his work benders, but Steve never gave you the chance.

“Jarvis, when has Ms y/l/n left her office yesterday?” Once more he sounded concerned. ‘Oh, that bastard’ you thought. Steve knew - of course - that you’d lied to Tony. “At 9 p.m., Captain, 4 hours after her workday usually ends, Sir.”

You wanted to strangle the AI at that moment. 

“Well Tony, if you don’t mind I will take y/n home, then. She obviously needs to rest and I need to head to Brooklyn anyways to meet with Bucky.” Steve sounded offended that you’ lied, so righteous.

“Yes you do that, champ” Tony agreed, absentmindedly, not noticing that Steve had no right knowing where you lived. “Say hi to Buckeroo for me, will ya?” Steve nodded and added “Tony, you can’t work your employees that hard. We talked about this.” His voice was imploring, and a little disgruntled. What was happening?

“Well with this one it isn’t my fault” Tony replied flippantly as he walked to the door. “Take care of yourself y/n, okay?”

“Tony, I’m fine. I’m an adult, I can decide if I am fit to work or not!” You wanted to sound assertive, but you were rather aware that you begged. Tony just smiled at you and grinned: “What the Captain says goes, young lady, trust me it’s for the best.” And with that, he’d left your office, leaving you alone with your tormentor.

You were done for. You knew it. Steve would now pounce on you and break you to pieces and… fuck. You were getting wet. Your brain knew that this was a self-defense mechanism to your body, but your heart felt ashamed. There was no denying that the sex had ended spectatcularly.

You jumped a mile when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, ripping you out of your thoughts. “y/n?” Steve’s voice was soft. “It’s time to go home, come on.”

“Don’t touch me” you replied, your voice hoarse with unshed tears. 

“Don’t worry, I can’t catch the flu, you could even cough on me, doll.” Steve joked, as he took your coffee from you and placed it on your table. “Any aches, pains or other flu symptoms?” For the first time since Tony left you, you dared look into his face. He seemed so concerned that you couldn’t help yourself and nodded. “Yeah. “ You sounded defeated even in your own head. “Both.”

“It’s okay, angel. I’ll take you home and take care of you.” Steve wrapped his warm, strong arm around you and moved you out of your office. Everything started to blur together, as he called out to your secretary that you were sick and he was taking you home and he moved you into an elevator and finally maneuvered you into a car. You let him. You let yourself be manhandled. You still didn’t understand what was happening. Where was the man who had almost fucked you to pieces yesterday night? At the thought, more wetness gathered between your thighs and you blushed scarlet as Steve got into the driver’s seat next to you. If any of the rumors about his enhanced senses were true, he’d be able to smell you by now.

As Steve pulled into the crazy Manhatten traffic he said: ”Bucky told me about your little argument this morning” His voice was so soft it lulled you in even more, “and quite frankly darling, I don’t appreciate the language you used nor how unappreciative of my protection you are. I know this must all be difficult for you, but there will still have to be consequences for your behavior,” ‘he sounds like a well-meaning teacher’ you thought confused. “but for today, I think you earned yourself some aftercare for taking my cock so well yesterday.” You felt like you’d been hit by a truck. Steve still sounded absolutely casual, but you froze at the slight mention.

His right hand settled on your thigh. “Breathe, darling, deep breath. It’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna take care of you from now on out.”

#fanfic #dark!Steve #Captain America #dark!Steve x reader #marvel #Cracking a code #dark!fic

[commanderbensolo]

Silence and Bliss

A/N: So another lovely prompt from my lovely friend @thisisbroganeveobrien​, except this time instead of it being about our favourite space wizard, it’s about our favourite flannel-wearing detective. Hope you all like it, and I hope to do your prompt justice :) This will also be posted on ao3 as well so if you wanna check it out just head over to commanderbensolo on ao3 :) Enjoy lovelies <3

Request:  You call Flip because you think someone is following you and he rushes over to protect you (maybe related to the case he's working) he stays at your apartment for the night to make sure your safe 😏😂.

Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x Reader 

Warnings: Swearing, Felix being a creep, making out, it goes a little dark for a sec but nothing too major, I’m not really comfortable writing smut so I kinda just made it implied here, I’ve just realised how much difference there is between this one shot and some of my other ones. 

You’re walking to your care, nearly ready to drop off to sleep due to the fact that it’s fucking midnight and you’ve been at the station since 9am that day, with only a couple breaks in-between. Usually, you and Flip would have clocked out early and then decided to go for a drink or get dinner, and you have done so many times before, but your best friend had (unfortunately) had to stay behind to fill out the paperwork on his case, something that you had finished a couple hours before him, but had stayed solely for the pleasure of his company.  

There was… something between you and Flip, but you weren’t quite sure what it was. Flip was the kind of guy who you’d want to go home with on a Friday, but also wake up to and have breakfast with on a Saturday (and the Sunday if you were incredibly blessed by a divine being). If that didn’t scream boyfriend material, then you were pretty sure boyfriend material-guys didn’t exist, and wouldn’t that be a damn shame?

You and Flip were really good friends, and had been since you guys had graduated from the same police academy and (surprisingly) been placed in the same precinct, Colorado Springs Police Department. You guys became even closer after working together on numerous occasions, and there had even been a point where people in the precinct genuinely seemed to think you were dating. You both argued that you were incredibly comfortable and close with each other, due to the large number of hugs you guys shared after one of you had come back from an undercover assignment safe, or the fact that 90% of the time you guys left the precinct together and came in the next morning together as well. You both had brushed it off and hadn’t let the gossip interfere with your friendship, but as time progressed, you began to see Flip in a different light. Was there something there after all?

You couldn’t deny that Flip was an attractive man. Some people would even go as far as to say that he looked ‘delectable’ which had come from a number of mouths of now ex-girlfriends. You had never liked them, whether it was because you wanted to be the good best friend and point out to him that they only seemed to want to flaunt him like a trophy, or because the green-eyed monster of jealously had awoken, you’ll never know. Because while you may have agreed with them, you didn’t want to feel like you were objectifying your best friend, someone who you could absolutely anything and everything to and not get weird about it.

During the time you had been doing your own internal monologue, you had gotten inside your car and started the engine. You pulled out of the parking lot and began to make the familiar commute back to your house, though you supposed you were being a bit dramatic using the word ‘commute’ as your house was literally 10 minutes away. Adjusting your rear-view mirror, you saw a car behind you, which struck you as a little odd seeing as no other cars were on the roads this late. All the respectable pubs and clubs and bars had closed long past now, and the slightly more disreputable establishments were on the other side of town. You thought you recognised the car as you looked again, but since you’re eyes weren’t exactly focusing right now (you were sure that even driving like this was dangerous) you didn’t take much notice. Brushing it off as merely nothing (you supposed your mind had gone into overdrive due to all the caffeine you had consumed today), you turned left to turn onto a familiar side road that started the winding journey to your apartment. Looking back again, you noticed that the same car was still following you, and that it was considerably closer than last time. A feeling of dread settled in your gut and you quickly fumbled around for your phone as you speed dialled the one person you had. Flip.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?” You hear his tired voice on the other end of the line, and immediately breathe a sigh of relief, before remembering what was happening right then. “Y/N? Are you okay?” He sounds considerably more awake now, and perhaps a little worried. “Flip, I think someone’s following me.” You say in a calm voice, though the tremor in it towards the end of your statement gives away just how shaken you feel at that moment. “What do you mean? Are you in your car? Where are you I’m coming to get y-“

“Woah, Flip, calm down, I’m fine. I’m in my car and I’m nearly at my apartment.”

“How are you calling me if you’re in your car? Y/N are you driving with 1 hand?!” You hear his voice drop into a whisper-shout sort of thing, as though someone has entered the room he’s in and he doesn’t want anyone else to hear your conversation. “If I say yes, are you going to arrest me?” You say with a teasing tone, and once again, you’re thankful for the friendship that you two have, even if it’s never going to be anything more. “Y/N hold on a minute. Just a sec, don’t go anywhere, please.” You hear him place the phone down. Please? Why had he said please? And why did his tone sound genuinely frightened, like he was going to lose you or some shit like that? Hearing the phone being picked up again, you’re broken out of your train of thought, and Flip’s voice rings again in your ears. “I’m coming to get you. Keep driving and when you get to your house remain inside the car, if you’ve got your gun with you I want you to take the safety off and be ready to shoot if needed.”

“Flip wh- what’s going on? Why would I have to shoot somebody? It’s probably just some creep trying to scare me, I’m fine.” You stress to him, feeling guilty.

“Y/N, if it’s who I think it is then it’s a lot worse than just a creep trying to scare you. I’m getting in my truck now. Are you at your house?”

“Yeah I just pulled up. Flip, who do you think it is?”

“Have you got your gun?”

“Yes but-“

“I’ll be there in a minute; I’ve got to go otherwise I might crash.”

“Phillip, I swear to fucking God, tell me who it is.”

“I can’t Y/N, just stay put, see ya in a minute sweetheart. Don’t go anywhere please.” Then the beeping tone signaled the end of the call. Slumping in your seat, you wondered what all of that had been about. He’d said ‘please’ again, almost as if he was begging for you to stay where you were, as if you were defenseless. “Fuck that, I’ve been through training and every other kind of shit. I can handle this.” Grabbing your badge and gun at the ready, you step out of the car, taking car to lock it before you approach the car. From within the tinted windows you can vaguely make out the outline of what looks like a male, and so you call out. “Sir, may I please ask what you’re doing here at this time of night?” No response from the stranger inside the car. You take a couple steps closer, until you’re at the car window. “Sir, I’m going to need you to recline the window and step out of the vehicle.” As the window slowly rolls down, you catch the glimpse of a face which did not bring warm feelings to your heart. “Felix, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Aww don’t be like that baby. I only came here to see you, looking all cute dressed up like you do at our house, gotta throw a man a bone haven’t ya?”

You scoff at him, your eyes widening at to what he is implying. “You creep, what the hell?” His grin grows even wider, into something more sinister, as he begins to step out of the vehicle. You take a step, truly beginning to panic. “What baby, you scared of me? Good.” You feel tears begin to make their way to your eyes, and you feel like you’ve become frozen. “Felix get the hell away from me or I’ll call for backup.” Then you remember. You left your radio in the car, and you had locked it. There was no way that you could get to your car in time and radio the precinct. And no one would be there anyway. It was nearly 1 am, and nearly everyone was bound to have gone home to live their lives for the night. “You told me to step out the car hon, I’m only doing what you asked me to.”

“You’re being a creep as well. And I don’t appreciate it.”

Just as he begins to move closer, you see a larger shadow appear behind him, and within seconds he was on the ground, knocked out cold. “F-Flip?” You ask tentatively, not sure if it is him or just another creep trying to worm their way in and seem like the good guy. “Y/N, I told you to stay in the car. Why didn’t you stay in the fucking car?” His tone is harsh, angry even, but you can tell that underneath that there is a layer of worry and stress, about your safety. “I tried, but then I felt really h-helpless and so I decided to do something instead of just waiting for you to show up! I can do things too you know!” You shout at him from across the street, not even aware that it’s incredibly late and your neighbors are going to hate you in the morning. “Y/N why don’t you listen to me? I said to stay in the car to try and keep you SAFE!” He yells back and you just huff and turn around, walking towards your apartment block. Getting to the door and realizing he’s not behind you, you turn around and see him standing exactly where he was before. “Well, are you coming up?” Hearing a huff that was way too loud, he makes his way to where you were holding the door open for him as he slipped in before you, muttering a ‘thanks’ as you closed the door. Making your way towards the elevator that sat at the bottom of the building, you both got in and went to go for the button at the same time, laughing awkwardly as the tension began to settle between the two of you as you rode up in a blanketed silence.

You were used to silence with Flip. Sometimes you guys would meet to drink and eat just in silence, knowing that the both of you were there if needed. It was nice, to have someone to rely on if you needed it. This silence was uncomfortable though, and you knew for a fact that it was mainly your fault. “Flip, I’m sorry. You know I can take of myself though.” You murmured to him whilst looking at the wall next to you. You were on opposite sides of the elevator, but it was so quiet that you were sure he would have no problem hearing you. “Why didn’t you listen to me?” He murmured, finally looking at you. “I already told you the reason Flip. And I’m sorry.”

“Do you know how fucking scared I was when I thought who it could be? To think that that man- no, that monster could have hurt you, caused you pain? Do you know how that made me feel? Do you even know how you make me feel Y/N?”

You were at a loss for words, and you were pretty sure your expression proved it, as Flip just lowered his head again with a sigh. “How do I-“ You were cut off by the elevator doors opening, and deciding you had dealt with enough shit tonight, you grabbed Flip by his arm and dragged him up the corridor to where your apartment was. Considering Flip was a giant of a man, he must have not put up a fight, as he moved pretty easily from the elevator to the door. Turning to him, you spoke. “There is 1 thing that is gonna happen tonight Zimmerman: you are going to tell me what is wrong and apparently how I ‘make you feel’ even though I don’t even know what that means, okay?” He cocked his eyebrow (a look that looked way too sexy on him for it even to be normal) and opened his mouth as if to argue, but instead just opted to nod and allow himself to be dragged inside. Instructing him to go and sit on the couch, you go to your room quickly and get out a fresh new pair of black leggings and a black t-shirt, bringing your Y/C out of its bun and throwing everything else on your bed before going back out to meet Flip. He was drinking a glass of water casually, and moved to set it down on the coffee table as you sat yourself down next to him, bringing your legs up into a crossed position and facing him. “You wanna tell me what all that was about, yeah?”

“Y/N, I swear, I didn’t mean to yell, I just got really mad and confused and upset and scared and it just sort of came o-“ He pauses as you place a hand on his arm in order to stop his rambling and calm him down. He takes a deep breath and tries again. “When you said someone was following you, I thought back to who could it be. And then I remembered something that Felix had said while you were in the car outside with Ron, you know when I said you were sick? So I remembered him saying that he found you ‘real cute’ but also ‘real hot’ at the same time, just using his words here, and that one day he was gonna follow you home and get a piece of you. We all thought he was joking, because he never seemed like the type to actually do something like that, not when Connie was around, but then he pulled that shit in the basement and I quickly realised that this man could do anything if he put his mind to it and he really wanted it. So I became a bit more wary after that. But then I forgot that he even said it, because it was a good couple of weeks back and you hadn’t reported anything about stuff like that or mentioned anything to me or Ron or Jimmy, so I assumed that he was just joking around, trying to look all big. And now we’re here. I’m so stupid, I should have kept a look out for signs, for something and- why are you looking at me like that?”

You’re smiling shyly and just staring at his eyes without even meaning to, caught up in the feelings you felt for this man, strong feelings that made you feel like you were going to combust and explode and possibly even ignite on fire. “Flip, you are one of the most caring, kind people I have ever met. There is a reason you’re my best friend, and it’s not because of your looks, it’s because of your personality, and you got a damn fine one. I can’t think of another person who would go through all of that and worry that much about me, apart from my own parents. So thank you Flip.” He smiles at you, a light blush shadowing his cheeks as a product of what he’s just heard come out of your mouth. Out of pure impulse (and possibly a bit of an adrenaline dump) he leans over and gives you a quick kiss on the mouth, realising all too late what he’s just done. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m just gonna- I’m just gonna go now ya know, late time and all that.”

“Flip?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and kiss me again please?” He looks at you with wide eyes, surprised (to say the least) to hear your request, but he does as you ask, and kisses you again. It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s everything you’d imagined it would be (not that you’ve done any imaging at all) and suddenly his hands are on your hips and your arms are around his neck and he’s lifting you into his lap and sitting back against the couch, groaning softly into your mouth as you continue to kiss him heatedly. “Flip- Flip!” You say in a gasp as you pull back from him for a minute, mainly to catch your breath, and you can’t stop smiling and you’re genuinely concerned that your cheeks might split from smiling so much. “As much as I would like to, I’m far too tired for… that, so could we maybe just go to sleep and see where this goes in the morning?” You say, looking down so as to avoid showing your nervousness. “Yeah of course, I don’t wanna push you into anything. Do you want me to go?” He says, also catching his breath still, and you shake your head, smiling still. “No, I want you to stay, that is if you want to?” “Yes.” He breathed, kissing you another quick sweet kiss on the lips. “Yes, I do want to stay, so fucking much.”

And that’s how you two ended up curled in your bed, just sleeping with your arms tucked around each other and snoring quietly and dreaming peacefully. There was no worry of cases, no nightmares of old assignments that so regularly seemed to invade your peace. There was just silence and bliss between the two of you, and it was the most wonderful feeling you had ever experienced.

I swear to god that is one of the longest fics I’ve ever written and it took me ages but I finally finished it. I put a lot of effort into this one (as you can all probably tell as it’s about 3k words long oops) so I hope you all like it. Leave me some prompts for imagines or hcs, I’m happy to write anything really. 

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman fluff #kissing #fluff

[secretgamergirl]

Hate Mobs Gotta Go

Last night, I did something I have never expected to do, and just full on gave up on a fun RPG writing assignment. Which I had to do because I hit a point where it was so overdue and unfinished that I was falling asleep sitting up and stress vomiting and other such things. There’s a whole lot of factors behind that. Other health issues, the toll of being on total pandemic lockdown for months, with neighbors just straight up open mouth coughing at my door, emergencies with friends and family, multiple fires and hardware failures, but the main thing was, and still is, the constant harassment from a militant hate mob, completely out of touch with reality.

Years ago, I remember there was this thing the internet at large was fond of doing with foaming at the mouth far right religious extremists- Mercilessly ridiculing them in public to expose how disconnected everything they said or did was from reality. Remember seeing this one float around and laughing your head off?

And if I mention the Westboro Baptist Church, you immediately picture a single family of raving bigots picketing funerals and such with their big homophobic signs, with a bigger crowd mocking them, right?

For some reason, the modern version of that particular flavor of fringe weirdo doesn’t get that sort of ridicule. Presumably because they’re focusing almost exclusively on trans people, and most people have this weird thing where like if you stick up for trans people you get cooties or something and never dig into the real juicy ridicule fodder. But for real, this stuff is OUT THERE. Just look at a few examples here.

Come for the weird ravings about harvesting baby organs. Stay for the... adult woman who apparently believes breasts get their shape from actually being sacks filled with milk under women’s skin? Now, how about this colorful comparison?

For anyone who wasn’t aware, pronouns are words like “I” “you” “he” “she” “it” and “this,” while rohypnol is colloquially known as “the date rape drug,” so this is utter gibberish. The full context of course is that this person is trying to make the argument that forcing this bigot to refer to women she’s prejudiced against as “she” instead of arbitrarily tossing around “he” or “it” is... raping her brain, I guess?

So... this is pretty clearly some creep’s weird little fantasy. The obvious giveaway is pretending that trans women “aren’t in the correct bathroom” when going to... the correct bathroom, and that the non-existent law about this is somehow enforced by... random bigots opting to deputize themselves. What DOES happen for real though is bigots like this being arrested for barging into public restroom stalls with camcorders aimed at the crotches of women on toilets and trying to defend themselves by insisting they have some duty to check what their genitals look like. On which note...

That’s just disgusting. It’s also as close as I feel comfortable to posting all the graphic fantasies I see from these people about the barbaric genital mutilation they imagine trans women subject ourselves to which really has no basis at all in reality. Well maybe I can post this one.

I’m not going to go through and itemize all the baldfaced lies in that, because I really kinda hope I don’t have to, and also because the person who slapped this together was kind enough to break it up in such a way that I legitimately can say “every single line of this is a completely baseless lie.” Also the art in the corner is stolen from a child-friendly comic whose author is trans, so, that’s extra slimy. Also wow that “bone scans” bit is actually one I’ve never seen. Where the hell do they even get these ideas?

Also this one needs some setup. If you have time, this right here is a freaking journey, if not, I’ll try to summarize.

So a while ago, this one particular unhinged bigot decided the most productive way to spend all her time was to get in touch with a bulk sticker printing business and order thousands if not millions of these weird gross poorly framed slabs with a really crude drawing of a penis and bunch of gibberish she really wishes were the names of popular twitter hashtags that nobody else but her ever uses. And then after receiving these, just... wandering around the city she lives in all day every day plastering them on phone booths and power poles and the mirrors of bathrooms in like.. elementary schools and park benches, just everywhere. And then makes multiple passes a day apparently to make sure nobody has tried to remove any of them, as detailed in this amazing thread I’ll link again.

So the latest break in that particular saga is that same zealot going around plastering stickers like this around too, to make it seem like “both sides do it.”

It should be obvious that that’s a “blacks rule!” sort of fake between the baffling text and using the extra inclusive, particular emphasis on supporting people of color, general purpose LGBT+ flag, but also, like their fellows on 4chan, they plan this sort of “false flag” crap in broad daylight:

I should really properly credit the whistle-blowing on that particular oddity, and I should also note that aside from the breast milk sacks, this is all just stuff I saw TODAY catching up on my twitter feed, but my main point with all this is to illustrate that we really are dealing with Jack Chick/Westboro Baptist-level unhinged zealotry... but again, nobody’s out there pointing and laughing. And it turns out, when you don’t have people pointing and laughing at this sort of thing, you get people taking it seriously. So... when I went to quickly search for a news story to link with the bit about creeps barging in on women with cameras, the results I got were... this.

That... sure is a lot of stories about totally innocent people in a demographic I belong to being murdered by total strangers goaded into blind murderous hatred by the sort of people I’m pointing and laughing at! Ha ha! There’s a very real chance of that happening to me every time I step outside, for any reason! Tee hee! I live in a state of constant fear! Whoopsie!

And it’s not just stuff like that. The people posting these rambling tirades about “breast milk sack implants” and putting crude penis stickers everywhere, never being called out as the unhinged weirdos they are, either have the world turning a blind eye to all this crap, or have everything they do downplayed in the media to the point where outright sexual harassment, doxing, and slurs I don’t want to repeat get headlines like “so-and-so made comments that some fringe trans activists on the internet deem ‘possibly transphobic’” and that’s AT BEST. More often you get stuff like the one incident I managed to bring a lot of public attention to way back when, where some bigot just literally walked up to someone on the street, grabbed them, savagely beat the hell out of them until pulled apart, had friends film the whole thing, and bragged after the fact about it, and every story that appeared as a result claimed the assailant was the victim, because they were all written by her friends.

Face obscuring provided by me here, by the way.

And that isn’t a one-off incident. Because, see, most of these unhinged weirdos spewing out all this transphobic gibberish are not, as you would think, a bunch of barely educated Trump hat wearing members of some fringe religious congregation. They’re editors and producers in major British news outlets. This isn’t me shouting conspiracy nonsense either, this is well-documented. Like, The Guardian gets public internal protests over this crap. So does the BBC. Yes, other respected news sites cover this. Media watchdog groups do their best to reign this in with hearings and such, but, don’t actually have any power to enforce anything really. So when there’s “reporting” on this crap, it’s coming directly from the “breast milk sack implant” people. Oh and here’s some screenshots of the headlines of those stories you’re too lazy to click through and actually read:

And of course, sometimes when they want to really come across as respectful, they try to find “scientists” and “doctors” who back up their ravings but all they have to fall back on are disgraced quacks who spend most of their time on activism work to normalize pedophilia.

I’m not bringing that point about Cantor up to discredit his writings about trans people by the way. He doesn’t really HAVE any writings about trans people. He just pasted the names of a bunch of random studies from the 70s about whether playing with barbies makes you gay into his blog a few years back and this crowd was so desperate for validation they declared him an “expert in the field” and started passing out links to his.... pro-pedophila blog. Which is part of this whole pattern, but I’ve written about that before. Oh and the governments of multiple countries manage to treat all these people as “experts” and make policy decisions based on their ravings. That’s fun.

Anyway, aside from encouraging random people to, you know, just randomly murder anyone they see who looks like maybe a trans woman, every so often this weird little cult pulls in an actual celebrity who then has a public meltdown as they post all this gibberish to a wider audience. Currently this is going on with Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling (who’s actively promoting the pedophile guy up there on Twitter), and I think also William Shatner, but I haven’t really looked into it. The last big one though was Graham Linehan. Who you might remember from co-writing some sitcoms that were popular decades ago in Britain, or from being the weird cartoon villain who tried to kill the funding of a children’s charity, prompting this strange pledge drive marathon of Donkey Kong Country.

You might also know him as one of... I think honestly just two people who have ever managed to be such out of control stalking hate mongers that they were actually given a permanent no possible appeal ban from Twitter. Personally though I know him more as, you know, that one absolute creep who’s been obsessively stalking me for like 5 years and never shutting up about his weird personal obsession with me.

I WOULD link the recent freaking filmed interview he did where he spent forever rambling about me, but I’d have to actually watch it to confirm I had the right link, and also the only place I could quickly find a link to it would be on his twitter feed, which as stated, no longer exists. Oh and random side note there, despite being personally, by name, the person he was explicitly targeting all his hateful ramblings at, he wasn’t banned from that site for any of the disgusting stuff he said to me. He just slipped up and mentioned a cis woman with a professorship while shouting about this crap recently and that caused people to actually take action. I do so love being invisible.

Anyway, point is, prior to Rowling grabbing the baton from him as his social media presence went up in flames, this guy was name-dropping me a LOT. Presumably he still is, just in places fewer people see it. And when you have as big an audience as he did, and that audience is as full of hatemongers as his was, that has a pretty noticeable effect. I’ve been deluged with so much hateful garbage for so long it’s impossible for me to put any numbers on it. The closest I can do to quantify it is note that hate dump was big enough that I was also flooded with more weird messages intended as support from total strangers than I could deal with, totally losing access to social media feeds and my e-mail from the volume for a good bit, and THAT flood was big enough that I got this whole second wave of creepy stalkers who’d built up this whole weird fanon where this stalker here is like, someone I used to date or be business partners with and not just some creepy dude like twice my age stalking me over the internet, from a completely different hemisphere.

And I mean... in the broadest of strokes, I can kinda laugh all this off. Because... these people are completely ridiculous, out of touch with reality, and mostly live in other countries. But... all the threats and shouting are very real and very constant and like.. picture someone outside on the street shouting at your windows about how they’re going to break in and kill you. You really can’t ignore that. Even if they’re unarmed, and all they’re really capable of doing is shouting and pounding on your door, you can’t really just ignore that shouting and pounding and just watch a movie or play a game or write this article you promised would be done 3 months ago. You can certainly try, but a pretty big part of your brain is going to be occupied with thoughts about how maybe you should call someone to see if they’ll escort this violent person away, or maybe you should barricade your door in case all that pounding does something.

And I mean this isn’t a bad metaphor for how all the constant threats and stalking I’m dealing with thanks to celebrity bigots personally obsessed with me impacts my life, but it also does a pretty good job of describing how my night went pretty recently when I ACTUALLY DID HAVE SOMEONE POUNDING ON MY ACTUAL REAL PHYSICAL DOOR SHOUTING ABOUT STABBING ME TO DEATH, and no, there was no resolution to that beyond the sound of sirens causing that person to back off.

I also had an experience not too long ago where I was supposed to take a cab to a routine appointment, a car showed up with the cab company’s name on it, somewhat early, and proceeded to drive me... out to the middle of the freaking woods like an hour from where I live, and when my phone rang with my actual cab asking where I was the driver freaked out, had me get out of the car, and took off leaving me just... stuck in the middle of nowhere freezing to death and trying to find a landmark an actual cab could pick me up from. Still don’t know what the hell that whole thing was about and whether a cab driver just REALLY didn’t know what he was doing and panicked or what, but I do know that talking about it publicly in the vaguest of terms lead to a bunch of unhinged shouting from... apparently some unconnected ride share driver with a habit of dumping trans women between stops when they try to get medications or something, convinced I was calling him out for that.

So.... yeah. Things aren’t exactly going great in my neck of the woods. I’d really appreciate it if people would properly treat these unhinged violent weirdos like unhinged violent weirdos and not respectable members of society so they quit getting so bold and public with the violent stuff, and people who listen to them get properly shouted down for doing so.

#transphobia #stalking

[theashemarie]

Demo Brew Ch. 3 | Pearlina

☆ Reblogs appreciated! ☆

↪Chapter 1: [The Bet]

↪Chapter 2: [The Squid Sisters]

Read one chapter ahead on AO3!

Chapter 3: The Song

By all rights, things should be different after this revelation, but nothing changes. Callie and Marie are still just Callie and Marie after all, though they do sing more when the shop is empty. Three seems to relax a little too, as if she was holding all the tension of the secret in her body, and Pearl easily feeds off the energy. She feels like she’s coming back into herself, back into the Pearl that’s all confidence and swagger. The past six months have been a little rough, all things considered. Adjusting to the job (the job she didn’t need but kept coming back to), adjusting to Callie and Marie, adjusting to Three, adjusting to Marina...

And, now she’s trying to decide if punk music really is her thing after all.

It’s been a creeping thought, ever since she saw Callie, Marie, and Three’s reaction to her scar. But, she doesn’t want to just drop her band, but they’re also not the most cohesive unit anyway. It’s almost a self-fulfilling prophecy in a way—the punk group that’s dysfunctional and awful to each other. Their lead guitarist is known for showing up late and drunk, and while Pearl isn’t exactly the most reliable person in the world, she likes to think that she’s dedicated to the cause. She doesn’t want to be arrested one day because her bandmates are caught drunk and belligerent after a gig either, but that’s a whole other issue.

But, most of all, she wonders what it would be like, to start a group with Marina. Their voices would probably go well together, and they’re just different enough that their stage presence would be interesting and fun. She wants to change her image anyway. She’s getting a little sick of wearing black all the time.

“I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out,” Three says when she spies Pearl staring pensively at her notebook. She’s doodled a few hearts beside the scribbled song lyrics from yesterday. She quickly draws a few skulls beside the hearts, just for balance.

“What? Callie and Marie? I totally knew,” she lies.

“Yeah, and I can fly.” Three grabs a scone out of the pastry display and nibbles on it. “You grew up rich, right?”

It’s so out of nowhere that Pearl has to look up from her doodles. “Yeah? Why?”

Three shrugs. “Just curious why you’re here is all.”

“Callie didn’t tell you about the bet?”

Three shakes her head and takes a large bite of the scone. “Callie’s big on privacy. She says that ‘everyone deserves their secrets!’” The last of that is said in a peppy imitation of Callie’s upbeat voice, and Pearl can’t help but chuckle. “I was just wondering, since it seemed like your whole punk thing was taking off too. You’re not like me. Stuck here until the next big thing.”

It's so painfully true, and Three says it so easily. Three isn’t like Pearl—she has to scrape to make it to her next paycheck without going hungry. Most of the time, that involves eating all she can of the leftover pastries or sandwiches at the end of the day, and sometimes Pearl thinks she sees Callie or Marie give her money. Pearl has considered offering her some cash, but she doesn’t want to offend her. If there’s one thing she understands, its pride, and people always have a lot of it when it comes to money.

Pearl sighs and leans back. She’s not wearing her usual black today—decided to go with an oversized sweater, a pop of pink that goes well with her dark jeans—and she thinks that that’s what’s got her in this weird mood. She doesn’t really want to be the punchy punk princess anymore.

“I don’t know about that,” Pearl says. “I love music but I’m not sure if that’s the scene for me.”

“Oh yeah?” Three leans against the back counter, between the espresso machine and the blender. “You gonna sell out? Go mainstream?”

Pearl bristles a little. “Maybe I am! The mainstream could use a little something like me! I’d refresh the hell out of it! The Squid Sisters are the biggest thing right now, but behind those masks they’re still just another poppy idol group.”

Three smiles and crosses her arms. “Don’t let Callie and Marie hear you say that. They think they’re changing the world. Their music saves people.” She shakes her head and laughs, as if she just told some kind of joke. “I think that’d be fresh as hell. You trying to shake things up, I mean. You’ve got the voice. I say go for it.”

Pearl glances back at her notebook, at its scribbled lyrics to a song that’s already written. “It’d be pretty bad if I ditched my band. They’d hate me.”

Three shrugs. “So? You know they’re definitely using you for your money, right? You’re the lead but you also have all the cash. They wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

She’s right and Pearl knows it. Her whole life, people have pushed their way closer to her in order to get closer to her money. It’s a fact of life—people will kiss up to you if they think it’ll get them somewhere. That’s probably one reason why she likes it here so much with Callie, Marie, and Three. They don’t want her money. They want her.

And Marina. Marina doesn’t know either, and she actually trusted Pearl with her demo. Ebb & Flow sounds like it had been recorded on a tape recorder—an act so intimate and personal that every time Pearl listens to it she can almost imagine Marina holding the microphone in her hand as she pressed the record button. Marina trusted her with that—

“You’re right,” Pearl mutters, feeling a lot like the floor has just been ripped out from under her. Suddenly, everything with Marina crystalizes.

Because Pearl likes Marina, and she’s pretty sure that Marina likes her.

+++

At least, Pearl thinks she does.

It’s Saturday when Marina comes back in, and Pearl is jittery. So, so jittery, but she’s playing it off. She’s got her swagger back, finally, and she’s determined to use it.

“Hey Rena, what can I get you?” She leans deep into the counter, chin on her fist, and she smirks her best smirk.

“Hm, I think I’ve finally tried everything...” Marina mutters, staying at a respectable distance from the counter. She’s so cute that Pearl almost turns into a squid right there, like she used to back when she was fifteen and overwhelmed. Nothing made the world slow down like turning back into your childhood form.

 “You’ve tried everything twice. I think you’re just looking for an excuse to keep coming back to see me.” Pearl’s smirk changes into a small, sly grin, and she sees Marina blush, just there on her cheeks. She swallows hard to keep herself from smiling even bigger.

“Maybe I just really like coffee,” Marina shoots back. Then, when Three pushes through the door with a tray of small sandwiches, she adds, “Or maybe I just really like to see Three!”

Three puts the tray down with a great clatter and makes a show of looking flattered. “Oh you tease.” She waves her hand in Marina’s direction. “I’m afraid that I’m taken though. I’m married to the job.”

Marina laughs, a small thing that’s barely audible, and Pearl’s knees turn to jelly. “I took too long!” Marina laments. “I guess I’ll have to settle for watching you from afar.”

“You need to move on!” Three cries. She pulls the back of the pastry case open and starts arranging the sandwiches on their small plates, like ducks in a row.

“I’m right here,” Pearl butts in, stomping her foot for emphasis.

“Sorry Pearl.” Marina giggles again.

“Yeah, Pearl. Sorry you had to witness the sauciest love story of our generation,” Three adds.

“I was trying to be smooth,” Pearl whines under her breath in Three’s direction. Then when she realizes what she just said, she turns to Marina with large eyes.

If Marina heard, she makes no indication. Instead, she steps closer to the counter and pokes at the small menu that they have posted there. “I’ll take a black tea. No sweetener, please.”

Pearl recovers quickly. “What, you can get addicted to caffeine but not sugar?”

Marina shrugs. “I get my sugar elsewhere.”

Pearl swears that she sees her wink. The world goes super quiet for a moment, and suddenly all she can see is the floor, and the ceiling, and since when did everything get so big?

“Pearl?” And there’s Marina, leaning over the counter to look at her. And Three is there, like a tower.

“Oh, you little squid,” Three says, exasperated.

Pearl picks herself up quickly. Forms her limbs back into place and grows a neck and stomach. Accidental squid form at twenty because a cute girl flirted back at her. She really is a gay disaster.

She has to rescue herself, and fast, before Marina writes her off as an out of control, lovestruck fool. She dusts her clothes off, picks a piece of white fuzz off of her t-shirt, and points a strong finger at Marina. “I have something for you.”

“Oh...?” Marina is pinned in place by Pearl’s point so she can only stand there while Pearl marches toward the back, where her bag and notebook are waiting. She cleanly rips the page with the edited song out and walks back, stiff-kneed.

“Here. Don’t read it now. I’ll get your tea.”

Marina takes it and follows her instructions. The slip of paper disappears into the bag, and Pearl quickly stirs together Marina’s drink. Three stands there, like a mother, like a principal, like Pearl is liable to make an even bigger fool of herself, and Pearl can’t blame her.

As she hands Marina her drink, Marina accepts it quickly, too quickly. Pearl can’t put it down on the counter and slide it to her like she usually does. Marina intercepts her, wraps both her hands around Pearl’s. “Thank you,” she says as they hold eye contact.

It’s the hottest thing Pearl’s ever experienced, and it’s just their hands wrapped around a to-go cup.

+++

Marina comes back an hour later. Pearl isn’t in the front because it’s her turn to bake (burn) the pastries. Everything’s homemade and they need more bread, so at least she can enjoy herself with the kneading, the punching, the forming of the dough, and she does, but she also can’t help but feel like there’s a creeping panic coming on. She just handed that shit to Marina like it was no big deal! She was so cool about it! She just handed it to her!

Like, ‘hey Marina, I loved your song! Do you take constructive criticism?’ What is wrong with her? She didn’t even warn Marina! Just handed her a note like it was some ‘will you date me? check yes or no’ situation. Oh, she’s so fucked. She’s fucked sideways. She’s fucked into next week. She’s fucked. She’s fucked, she’s fucked, she’s fucked, she’s fucked—

“Hey Marina!” Three yells, loudly, from the front, at a much higher volume than she usually does. She’s basically hollering. “You’re back!”

Pearl is up to her elbows in dough, so she can’t exactly go out there. But Three is screaming. But also Pearl can’t go out there. But also she can’t not go out there. She stands there, panicked, stricken, trying to melt into the floor. Her knees almost give out and she’s about two degrees away from squid form again when Three yells again.

“Yeah! Pearl’s here! Do you want me to get her?!” Three’s voice is louder, and Pearl can imagine it—Marina, with her arms crossed, angry at Pearl, while Three, who knows exactly what Pearl handed Marina earlier, tries to hold everything together. Oh, this is bad.

“Okay, I’ll get her!” Three darts through the door and sees Pearl, hands and counter dusted with flour “What are you doing! Marina’s here! Get out there!”

“I can’t!” Pearl searches for an excuse. She waves her hands at the football of dough on the counter. “The gluten is gonna set!”

“I’ll do it!” Three reaches into the flour canister and claps her hands together, sending up a puff of white. “Go out there! She wants to talk to you!”

Pearl begrudgingly shakes as much dough off of her hands as she can before running them under the sink. “Did she look upset?”

Three grins at her. “She looked excited. Now go!”

Pearl death marches through the door and hopes that her face doesn’t look as grim as she feels. Marina is there, looking disheveled. Her headphones are gone, replaced with another hat, which she keeps tugging down.

“There you are! Come with me.” Marina turns to leave, just like that, as if Pearl can just ditch her job at a moment’s notice just for her.

Well, she can, but the point is that Marina shouldn’t be assuming things. Even if she is right.

“I’m going on break!” Pearl cries as she rips her apron off. Three sticks her head out of the back and grins at her.

Pearl follows Marina out onto the street. It’s cold and she considers running back in for her jacket, but Marina looks spooked. Pearl doesn’t want to give her a chance to get away, so she just crosses her arms and ducks her head against the stinging wind.

“This way,” Marina leads her away from the main thoroughfare, where all the foot traffic is—Inkopolis Plaza is the busiest area of the city, where tourists rub arms with professional turf war kids, where fashion models and music groups come on their time off, and Marina stands apart, even in her shapeless sweater dress and tights. Her hair is longer than it was when Pearl first met her, and she seems to have finally found her footing. Pearl’s mountain girl finally at home in the city.

She’s mooning again, like she’s fifteen years old and getting ready for a first date, but she can’t help it. Now that she’s out here, in the cold, in the real world, she sees just how beautiful Marina is, just how different her mannerisms and presence are. She wants nothing more than to sit in this moment and let it percolate. She wants to stand as close as she can to Marina and let their hands brush, wants their fingers to lace, wants to pull Marina along behind her and explore the city.

She wants to be with Marina. That’s it. She just wants to spend time with her. That’s... That’s a new type of desperate want that she’s never ever experienced.

And it’s... It’s really nice.

“C’mon Pearl!” Marina is waiting for her next to a nondescript door, about two blocks from Fresh Start. She easily unlocks the door with quick fingers, keying in the code to the lock with practiced ease. Pearl jogs to catch up, and Marina pulls her inside by the end of her sleeve. Their fingers brush and Pearl can feel her face heat up.

The room is dark, and Marina easily flips a switch. It’s a landing, with a long hallway in front of them and stairs to the right. Marina quickly takes the steps, jumping up two at a time with her long legs. Pearl follows suit, trying to seem cool, using all of her energy and her strong knees to leap up after her. They stop in front of another door with another lock, this time with an actual key, which Marina quickly slots into place. Her keyring jangles with all kinds of bits and bobs, and Pearl just catches glimpse of a Squid Sisters keychain.

This door leads into a small apartment, about half the size of Pearl’s bedroom at home. There’s a tiny kitchenette to the right, a door to a wet bathroom on the left, and ahead of her the bedroom and living area are all one room. The bed is made, and the comforter is a bright green; the walls are covered with music posters, some recent, some old, some antique, some human—

Pearl barely has a chance to take more than that in, because Marina tows her into a tiny, itty bitty closet just to the left of the main door. It’s so small that Pearl feels huge. She’s immediately accosted by coats and jackets, all of which smell just like Marina, and she has to struggle to find a spot where she can breathe without getting fabric in her mouth. And then Marina piles in right after her, carrying something dark and bulky in her hands.

It is at this precise moment that Pearl realizes that she just followed this girl, who she barely knows outside of their small interactions at Pearl’s place of employment, down an alley, into a sparsely populated area of the city, through a locked door, up some stairs, through another locked door, and then let her drag her into a closet. She’s heard that people who think they’re in love do stupid shit, but this is next level.

Silently, she hopes that if Marina kills her, that her father never ever finds out. He’d spend millions of dollars to bring her back only to kill her again.

Marina reaches up and pulls the cord for the light. A bare bulb illuminates and Pearl realizes that the coats and jackets are all old, patchy, and a couple seasons out of style. Marina beams at her and hands Pearl a microphone. The bulky thing is an old-fashioned tape recorder, with a cassette in it and everything.

“This is the only place I can record,” Marina explains. There’s a long cord between the mic in Pearl’s hand and the recorder, and Marina presses a button to rewind the tape.

“I see.” Pearl swallows thickly and thinks back to her recording studio at home, with its large soundproof sound booth and sound boards, professional microphones and digital storage. This closet with all of its fabric is close to soundproof, but Pearl imagines that it can’t be great, acoustically. “It’s nice,” she croaks. Her throat is very dry.

“Thanks!” Marina beams. “I bought all the coats to help dampen as much of the sound as I could.” She looks down as the recorder makes a click. “Okay, so the tape is in the right place. Just sing your part and hopefully I can mix them together without too much trouble.”

“Wait, wait.” Pearl waves her hands and smacks into a large leather jacket that has to be two sizes too big for Marina. “What are we doing?”

“This.” Marina reaches into the pocket of her dress and shoves a sheet of paper into Pearl’s confused hands. “You wrote that right? I want you to record what you wrote.”

Pearl unfolds it and yep, that’s the sheet she ripped out of her notebook, with the lyrics that she wrote on a whim, and her scribbled music staffs. Oh jeeze, what has she gotten herself into?

She’s flattered, and panicked, and excited—because clearly Marina loved what she wrote. She loved it so much that she had to hear it for herself. But suddenly Pearl can’t feel her own voice. Her throat is dry, and she’s hasn’t actually sung in months because what she does with her band is scream. Melodic screaming, skilled screaming, but screaming all the same. She reaches up and touches her throat, as if that’ll make a difference, and tries to swallow again.

“I can’t...” she says, feeling like a cad, like a fraud. Marina makes a soft, confused sound and Pearl feels like she owes her an excuse. “I’m not warmed up...” She doesn’t want to tell Marina that she hasn’t sung for real in so long that her range has shifted, has shortened, that even the rhythmic chanting that she wrote might be too much, especially here with Marina so close, making Pearl’s hearts beat out of sync, creating a drum solo out of her chest.

She can’t imagine trying to harmonize with Marina’s strong, melodic voice. She can’t imagine letting Marina hear her sing, especially here in this closet.

“That’s okay!” Marina says. She’s still fiddling with the tape recorder and hasn’t looked up to see Pearl’s pale, pale face. “This is just a demo. It doesn’t have to sound perfect.”

“Reena...” Pearl sighs and that gets Marina to look up. Pearl is holding the microphone so tight in her fist and her fingers are bleached of all color. “I can’t.”

Marina stares at her for a long time, her eyes swimming with some unsayable emotion. Pearl can’t tell if she’s disappointed, angry, sad, or a combination of all three. She wants to squirm under the attention, under her own shame, and she reaches for the door, just so she can escape back into the air and the light and get away from this terrible, frustrating moment.

“No.” Marina grabs Pearl’s hand, the one still wrapped around the microphone, and her palm is cool. It jolts something inside Pearl, and she turns back. “No, Pearl. I know you can do this. I’ve heard your voice.”

“What? No you haven’t.” Pearl’s in disbelief, but she can’t pull away, not with Marina’s hand wrapped around hers. Her hand is decently bigger than Pearl’s, and it’s so nice. “That demo I gave you doesn’t count.”

“Not that.” Marina smiles then, and pulls Pearl back, away from the door. She pulls her into her chest, into a hug, and Pearl allows herself to be embraced even though she doesn’t know what she did to deserve it.

“I heard you singing in the shop,” Marina continues. She rubs her hand on Pearl’s back. “You’re really good.”

“If you say so...” Pearl sighs, because she can’t really say no when she’s being hugged like this. “Why are you hugging me?”

Marina pulls back slightly so that Pearl can see her bright, cheery face. “You seemed like you needed it!”

Pearl smiles too, because she did need it. She needed it so badly. She hasn’t been hugged in so long.

And it is then that she realizes exactly who she’s hugging. Her face blooms red and she feels her hearts donkey kick, jumping into a high-speed race against the clock. She swears Marina must be able to feel it.

“Will you sing for me now? Please Pearlie?” Marina pouts out her lip, like she knows just which of Pearl’s buttons to push. Pearl feels like she’s going to pass out right there, just from that nickname alone, and then Marina goes and pouts—

She has no choice, really.

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #pearlina #splatoon fic #ashe writes #ashe talks #demo brew #seems like no one's reading this here but i'm gonna keep posting it so i can have an archive

[gummi-stories]

(Don’t) Touch Me

Some wounds need help healing

Alec rubbed his eyes with a yawn, slowly padding his way towards the kitchen. It was early in the morning, just like every other day Alec had to get up to go to work but much to his surprise Magnus was also up standing at the counter. It looked like he was either making breakfast or making coffee.

Alec smiled and came up behind Magnus, wrapping his arms gently around the warlock's waist and placing his head on his shoulder.

"Morning" Alec mumbled with yet another yawn.

"Morning my love, did you sleep well?" Magnus asked with a smile. Alec nodded and turned his head into Magnus' neck, kissing gently at the skin. Alec frowned when he felt Magnus stiffen under his touch, it didn't feel like how he'd normally go still when he felt happy.

"I-uh, I made you coffee" Magnus mumbled as he gently got out of Alec's arms, rushing over to the kettle leaving Alec slightly confused.

"Magnus are you alright?" The shadowhunter questioned

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Magnus shot Alec a smile as he poured two cups of coffee, Alec wasn't convinced but decided not to push and took his coffee from Magnus' outstretched arm.

"Do you have any clients today?" Alec said as he made his way over to the couch, Magnus following suit.

"Only 3, minor spells and such" Magnus shrugged, Alec nodded and took a sip of his coffee. When he looked back over to Magnus he noticed the warlock was rubbing at his neck with one of his hands, his eyes seemed a bit distant as well.

Alec frowned and reached over, grabbing Magnus' hand which brought the warlock back to the present.

"Are you sure you're okay love?" Alec urged which only made Magnus smile again, normally Magnus' smile would brighten Alec's day but seeing him smile when he clearly wasn't okay frustrated him.

"I don't know what I have to do to convince you, darling, I'm perfectly fine I'm just thinking about the things I have to take to my clients" Magnus replied. Alec sighed and nodded, quickly drinking the rest of his coffee before standing up off the couch.

"I'm going to have a shower" Alec mumbled before kissing Magnus' forehead gently, leaving the warlock alone with his coffee and his thoughts.

Magnus watched Alec leave the room and head towards the shower, guilt coursing through him as he drank his coffee. He wanted to tell Alec what was bothering, he knew that Alec only wanted to help him but this was something trivial, it happened many, many years ago and it shouldn't still be bothering him.

A phantom pain ran across his neck again making him lift his hand to cover his pulse point with a frustrated sigh.

"Get over yourself Bane" He mumbled to himself before scrubbing a hand over his eyes; he had work to do and there was no time to stay stuck in the past.

~~~

"I don't care if they're downworlders, they're allowed to be there! They are people too!" Alec said firmly into the phone. Problem after problem had arisen for him today, first, it was a failed hunt then clave representatives making a surprise visit to criticise all his work and methods of running the institute and finally it was a patrol calling him and complaining that there was a werewolf pack in an area they were patrolling.

"But sir they are stopping us from doing our job, just let us arrest them so we can continue our patrol!" The young shadowhunter argued which caused Alec's blood to begin boiling.

"If I hear you arrested a single one of those werewolves, you'll have a lot more then just suspension coming your way" Alec stated angrily before hanging up the phone and slamming it on the desk before threading his hands into his hair.

"By the fucking angel" He groaned as he felt a headache beginning to form behind his eyes, not only was there institute problems on his mind, he was still very worried about Magnus and how he was acting this morning.

He seemed very distant and nervous as if he was waiting for something to happen so he could be ready for said thing.

"Alec I can hear you thinking from the Ops room" Izzy's voice suddenly appeared in the hallway.

"Not now Izzy, I've got a lot of work" He replied as he went back to looking at the reports on his desk.

"Right, the work you've just been staring at for 10 minutes" Izzy rolled her eyes before sitting down on the couch across from Alec's desk.

"Come on, talk to me big brother, what's going on?" Izzy prodded which caused Alec to sigh again.

"How come you're my relationship counsellor?" Alec asked raising an eyebrow

"Because I know you'd never talk to anyone else about anything so out with it, is it Magnus?" Izzy questioned

"Yeah he's... he was acting weird this morning, he seemed distant and jumpy, but it only started after I came up behind him at breakfast" Alec explained

"He was fine until I kissed his neck and then he just froze, I've never seen him freeze up the way he did" He continued trying to make sense of what was going on.

"And I take it you tried to ask him what was wrong?" Izzy added

"Of course, but Magnus being Magnus he just brushed it off, I know something is wrong Izzy but I don't want to push if it's something painful" Alec shrugged

"Well sometimes you need a bit of pain before something can start healing; you need to sit down with him and talk Alec, that's the only way for things to get sorted out" Izzy instructed

"You're right, but I just wish I knew why" Alec hummed with a frown

"My guess is Camille" Alec was taken back at the mention of Magnus' ex

"Pardon?" Alec muttered

"Camille, Alec. She was a vampire, Magnus might not be used to touches around his neck that aren't meant to harm" Izzy said, causing a flood of realisation to wash over Alec.

"How... how did I not think of that before? Izzy, I need to get home" Alec exclaimed as he jumped up from his chair.

"Didn't you say Magnus had some clients today? You can't talk to him if he's not home" Izzy frowned as she watched her brother run around and grab his stuff

"That's the point, I need to do some stuff before he gets home. Izzy, you're the smartest sister ever" Alec mumbled as he quickly kissed her head and fled out of the office leaving Izzy alone and confused

"I'm your only sister..."

~~~

"Wine, pizza, flowers... I think that's everything" Alec mumbled to himself as he readjusted the table setting for the third time. He needed to talk to Magnus about this morning, so what better way to ease into it then with a romantic dinner?

The sound of the door opening and closing grabbed Alec's attention, he quickly grabbed the flowers and began heading to the entrance of the loft. Magnus placed his bag on the coat rack near the door and turned to head inside, only to jump when he saw Alec standing in the doorway to the lounge.

"Alexander, you scared the life out of me" Magnus exclaimed with a smile, placing a hand on his chest.

"I'm sorry, how was your day?" Alec questioned

"Same old, same old, what are you doing home so early?" Magnus questioned heading over to his shadowhunter before he reached him Alec pulled out a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back.

"Oh darling they're beautiful, thank you" Magnus smiled taking the flowers from Alec before leaning in and kissing him gently on the lips.

"But I have to ask, what are they for?" Magnus cocked his head slightly in confusion.

"Am I not allowed to spoil the man I love?" Alec smirked which caused Magnus to also smile.

"I suppose so, if my warlock senses are working correctly I think this will be followed by wine and maybe... pizza?" Magnus smirked causing Alec to frown in confusion.

"Warlock senses? What are you talking about?" Alec asked, Magnus, smiled and put a hand against Alec's cheek.

"Don't worry my love, come on, I need to put these in some water"

~~~

The evening went just as Alec planned, they ate, drank and laughed. Everything was calm as the two of them sat on the daybed on the balcony looking up at the stars, Alec knew it was now or never.

"Magnus, I need to talk to you," Alec said, Magnus looked up from where his head was resting against Alec's chest.

"About what darling?" Magnus responded

"This morning, you were acting awfully strange after I kissed your neck"

"Ale-"

"Let me finish, I know you weren't 'fine' Magnus, you were acting very jumpy and it worries me. Please Mags, talk to me, did I do something wrong?" Alec asked the question hung in the air for a little while before he heard Magnus sigh.

"It wasn't you, just-it's stupid truly and it shouldn't bother me anymore," Magnus said softly

"If it affected you so much, I don't think it could be stupid," Alec said, reaching down to grab one of Magnus' hands as he noticed the warlock was shaking slightly.

Magnus inhaled deeply before looking up at Alec, vulnerability shining in his eyes.

"Okay so um, you know that I-that I was in a relationship with Camille with quite some time right? W-Well being a vampire she needed to feed and the easiest place to feed was... was from me" Magnus gulped before he continued

"She never asked for permission, she'd just jump on me and feed to the point I couldn't get off the floor for multiple hours; I was so addicted to her venom that it got to the point that I was begging her to feed on me. The only reason I broke up with her was because Catarina and Ragnor could see how much I was deteriorating, they took me away and helped me get over my addiction, I said and did things to them whilst I was coming down I wish I could take back. So I guess I just hate having my neck touched, I'm not used to a kind touch in that area" Magnus breathed out heavily as he finished, he only noticed the tears running down his cheeks after he finished. He sniffled and wiped his eyes before sitting up to look over at Alec.

Alec was completely frozen, staring on in horror as everything processed in his head.

"Dear? P-Please say something..." Magnus whimpered, his insecurities quickly creeping up on him. Alec quickly sat up and hugged the warlock tightly, wanting to protect him from the world and anyone who wanted to hurt him.

"Magnus I'm so, so fucking sorry" Alec mumbled as he held his boyfriend. Magnus returned the hug without saying anything. The two sat there for a little while before Alec pulled away seeing Magnus' eyes were bloodshot. Alec responded by gently kissing both of his cheeks as he held his face in his hands.

"Can I... can I do anything?" Alec asked softly, Magnus nodded and grabbed Alec's hands

"Be gentle" Magnus replied confusing Alec slightly

"Gentle?" Alec said not really understanding what he meant. Magnus huffed slightly before leaning his head away from Alec, baring his neck to the shadowhunter which made his eyes widen

"Magnus no I can't do that if-"

"Please, I need you to do this... for me" Magnus murmured before turning his head back. Alec swallowed nervously and looked at Magnus' neck, he could see multiple small pinprick scars shining slightly in the moonlight.

"Okay... okay just tell me if I'm doing too much," Alec said before leaning forwards, he could feel Magnus tense slightly as he grew closer, Alec ran a hand up his arm as he placed his lips to the skin under the warlock's ear. Ever so gently he began to kiss at the skin, reassuringly and gentle.

"Alexander..." Magnus breathed out as he relaxed under Alec's touch

"Shhh, I've got you" Alec mumbled against the skin as he continued to move around and kiss every patch of skin he could reach. The pair slowly moved to lay down, Alec showing Magnus nothing but love as he kissed at his skin, hoping to heal those past wounds.

Magnus tensed up again when Alec moved down towards where those scars where. He let out a sob when he felt the softness of Alec's lips where he was used to pain.

"T-Thank you" He whimpered as he placed a hand on the back of Alec's head

"Never again, never again you'll feel pain here, I promise," Alec said as he pulled away from the warlock's neck to meet his eyes. Magnus gave him a wet smile before pulling him in to kiss him properly.

For the first time in 800 years, he felt completely and utterly safe.

Magnus deserves the world and more

Want something written? Send me a request!

#shadowhunters #angst #fanfiction #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #gummistorieswriting

[builder051]

Hey so like, if you’re willing (or you’ve got the time or whatever) could you write a lil fic with Steve as the sickie ? It’s my literal weakness. I just wanna see something where he gets home and doesn’t even get the chance to say hello to bucky before he’s fainting or throwing up or something. Also ? fever nightmares/deliciousness are my jam . Anyways I hope your week is going well & I hope you’re taking care of yourself ! 💛

I’ve already written a fic that (mostly) contains all these elements.  It’s a concussion fic, so the deliriousness (deliciousness??) comes from head injury instead of fever, but I think this will fit the bill.  It’s kind of long, so skim the mission fic part at the beginning if you’re only interested in the sick.  I’m pasting it below for ya.

Thanks for the well wishes!  I’m still not doing fantastic, but I’m getting right along.

_____

I get knocked down…but I get up again…you’re never gonna keep me down…

Steve’s flat on his back, and the words echo blankly in his head.

What the fuck?

It’s so dusty.

And he’s so…tired?

I get knocked down…

There’s…is that a hole in the ceiling?  Dilapidated rafters and corrugated metal sheets are busted out of the way to allow a view of the blue sky and a shaft of warm sunlight to hit the floor.

A little unorthodox for a skylight.

“Cap?”

Steve’s almost sure he heard the sound with his ears, but he can’t be positive.

Why is he lying on his back?

Steve pushes over to his side, then uses his arms to hoist himself up to seated.  Immediately the world shifts around him, and his hand slips against the dusty concrete.  The floor seems to have become the wall, but he’s still stuck to it…

I get knocked down…

Why is that damn song stuck in his head?

Isn’t he supposed to be doing something?

“Cap?  Steve?”

Yep, definitely supposed to be doing something.

“Hey, what happened?”  Footsteps echo toward him.  Nat’s face materializes upside down over him.  “You ok?”

“Yeah, sure.”  Steve raises himself up to a sitting position again, and the floor-wall miraculously returns to its original position, though it leaves Steve with a wave of dizziness reverberating through his skull.  Which hurts.

“Did you get hit?”

“Must have.”  Steve’s voice sounds oddly echoey.

“Must have, as in, you’re not sure?” Nat asks, her eyebrows going up.

“It was a pretty hard hit,” Steve admits.  Or at least that’s what he thinks he’s doing, as he still doesn’t remember it.  He picks himself up off the floor, automatically brushing dust from his deep blue suit and freshly polished shield.

“That’s what your helmet’s for, dumbass,” Nat teases him.  But her eyes flick from his face to his hairline, searching for a visible wound.

Steve doesn’t think there is one, but he runs his gloved hands over his head to be sure.

“Really, why’d you take off your helmet?” Nat asks.

Steve knows the answer to this.  He just can’t make it make any sense in his head because the context has evaporated.  “Better to talk to civilians without it.”

“Oh.  You found the hostages?”

Did he?  Steve glances around as quickly as he can, trying to get his bearings back without upsetting the precarious balance of his head on his shoulders.  The more he moves, the more it feels like a brass band it setting up shop in his skull.

The abandoned warehouse is starting to look more familiar now.  That busted-up sheet metal half-wall thing, that’s concealing the posts where the hostages are chained up.  Steve enunciates that to Nat as clearly as he can, then casually palpates the back of his head where it vaguely feels like he’s being smashed repeatedly with a hammer.

Now Nat’s saying something, and Steve’s missed the beginning of it.  “…when they’re coming back, but we need to move them now.”

“Huh?”

“Are you ok?” Nat asks, looking concerned again.

“Yeah,” Steve assures her.  “Just…still shaking it off.”  Although Steve’s sure that if he shakes anything, especially his head, he’s going to fall over.

“Ok, well, finish shaking and cover me.”  Nat draws a gun from the collection on her belt and starts across the warehouse.

Steve keeps pace with her jog, but clenches his teeth together as the motion jostles his stomach.  It’s as if wire-fine neurons have re-woven themselves to as to directly connect his head and abdomen.  One step equals one throb equals one swallowed wave of disgustingness.

The scruffy-looking group of coal miners chained up in the corner of the warehouse start whooping and cheering when they see Nat and Steve coming toward them.

“Shh, stop,” Nat commands them.  “They might hear you and come back.”

Steve’s just grateful it’s quieter again.  The sound had been wreaking havoc like drumbeats in his head.

“We saw you get slammed earlier, Cap,” one of the miners says with an Appalachian drawl.  “Didn’t know if we’d be lucky enough to see you come rescue us.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Steve says, trying to convince himself that his words are true.  “You’re all ok?  They haven’t hurt you?”

“Not yet,” the miner replies.  “Kept threatening that we’d be the fuel in their new clean energy rig, but, honestly, we’re used to hearing shit like that.”

“Well, they probably meant it,” Nat says, using a miniature pulsar beam on her wrist to start cutting through the chains around one man’s wrists.  “HYDRA’s no joke.  But what the hell they’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere…It is more like a tease than a threat.”

“Hey, this isn’t nowhere,” the miner pipes back up.  “We live here.”

“Yeah, she didn’t…” Steve has to blink hard to ground himself and regain his train of thought.  “…didn’t mean it.”

“You gonna help or stand there?” Nat barks in response.

“Oh.  Help,” Steve replies.  He uses the edge of his shield to bash the chains holding one the nearest miner’s feet to the thick concrete post.  The resulting clang is enough to make Steve want to curl up with his hands over his ears.

“Yikes.  Maybe I don’t want you to help,” Nat says, cringing herself at the loud noise.  “Just stand watch and see if the creeps in the gas masks come back… oh shit.”

Steve follows Nat’s gaze and immediately lifts his shield in front of his chest.  Two black-clad figures with bulky masks over their faces are sprinting for the cluster of hostages.  They don’t immediately look harmful, but with the threat of alien tech and something akin to nuclear power, no chances can be taken.

Nat’s drawing another gun out of its holster, one that shoots paralyzing beams instead of bullets.  “I’m on ‘em,” she says.  “Keep working on the hostages.”

“Roger,” Steve replies.

The gun fires loudly, and as the sound reverberates through Steve’s head, his vision blurs.  He takes out a good chunk of the concrete floor before he’s able to adjust the edge of his shield and bust through more of the chains.

The second gunshot sends Steve’s hands to his knees.  He struggles to hold onto clarity as he swallows his stomach back down into its proper place.

I get knocked down…

Why is that stupid song still hanging around?  He’s got much more important things to think about…like trying his damndest not to barf, and cutting chains, and covering Nat’s six…

“They didn’t unleash some weird bio-weapon on you, did they?”  Nat’s at his shoulder, poking him back to standing upright.

“Don’t think so.”

“That’s good,” Nat says, going back to lighting up chains with her mini pulsar.  “But you’re acting weird, you know?”

Steve shrugs.  Through the fuzz in his head, he’s starting to suspect what might be wrong.  He doesn’t want to think about it, though.  He’d die of embarrassment if he had to go to a head injury safety lecture for forgetting to put on his goddamn helmet.

“Ok, that’s it, freeing up the last of them.  Two operatives incapacitated, doesn’t look like there are any more,” Nat’s saying.

Steve’s confused at first.  Then it dawns on him that she’s talking into her comm, probably with Fury on the other end.  But Steve should be on the call too.  He feels for it with clumsy fingers, but the little piece of metal and plastic that should be poised on the edge of his ear canal is gone.  It probably fell out when he hit the ground earlier.

“Alright.  We’re headed out,” Nat says.  She turns toward the group of rescued miners and informs them that there’s a cadre of police cars outside the warehouse and a little ways down the hill. They should be safe now, and the regular police corps will take over from here, helping the miners and arresting the injured HYDRA agents.

“And we’re done.  We’re leaving,” she adds to Steve.  “Did you lose your comm, too?  God, you’re a mess today.”

“Yeah,” Steve says absently.  He tries to plug his brain back in against the throbbing backbeat.  “That was it?  Just those two guys?”

“Looks like it,” Nat says.  “But with the lack of tech and stuff in their hideout, I’m wondering if they were just some weirdo sympathizers instead of actual HYDRA operatives.”

“Hm.”  The glossy black Hummer that’d driven them out of DC and into Appalachia is waiting, burning fuel as it idles in a gravel driveway.  Steve opens the door and flops gratefully onto the richly cushioned backseat.  The air conditioning is blasting, and Steve positions his head so he’s in the direct path of the breeze.  It dries the sheen of sickly sweat on his forehead, making him feel better for all of one moment.

The drive from rural Virginia back to the DC Metro area is set to take a couple hours.  At first the prospect of lounging across the roomy backseat is appealing.  All Steve wants to do is rest.  But when the Hummer starts bumping down the hilly terrain toward the main road, Steve has to clamp his teeth together so his head doesn’t flop off and start rolling across the floor.

Nat’s tapping on an iPad, getting a head start on the mission report paperwork and playing Angry Birds.  At least, that’s what Steve thinks she’s playing.  The squawking sound effects seem somewhat familiar.  Waves of sleepiness compete with nausea washing over Steve’s head and chest.  He leans the side of his head against the cool glass of the window and lets his eyes drift shut.

“You alright?” Nat asks, jolting Steve back into painful awareness.

“Hm?  Yeah,” Steve says, trying to swallow the vertigo that’s loping from his forehead down to his lap.  “Just tired.”

“I didn’t think it was that strenuous.”  She’s talking about the mission.  “Did you not sleep last night or something?  Bucky keeping you up?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, still trying to work out the shift in topic and decode what Nat just said.

“Good stuff or bad stuff?”

“Huh?”

“Were you guys boning or dealing with nightmares?”

“What the— geez, Nat, I don’t talk about that stuff.”  How the hell did the conversation morph to include his sex life?  He’s not firing on all cylinders.  Something’s definitely wrong.

Steve’s had a concussion before.  All this, the severe headache, the mental fog, the tiredness, the strong urge to puke, is dreadfully familiar.  There’s nothing to be done except lie down and throw up and feel stupid while someone asks inane questions about the president and the date and things Steve still has trouble with even when he’s feeling fine.  He just wants to go home.

Steve does his best to stay awake for the duration of the drive.  The sound effects from Nat’s game and his own nausea do a good job of keeping him from drifting off, but the soft rumble of the Hummer’s engine is a difficult lullaby to resist.  By the time they’re rumbling past the shops and neighborhoods of Falls Church, Steve’s barely holding onto his consciousness and his stomach.

He wants more than anything to be home, and it would be just too much to drive by the townhouse and go on to SHIELD.  “Hey,” Steve says, swallowing down bile and raspiness.  “Can we…can you drop me off at my house?”

The agent driving the Hummer turns his head to look at Steve, obviously perplexed by the unconventional request.

“Why?  You have to debrief, see medical, finish up the mission paperwork,” Nat says.

“Yeah, I…I’ll come back in a little bit,” Steve forces out.  “It’s just…Buck’s got an appointment.  I forgot about it till now.  He wanted me to go with him…”  It’s a complete lie, but Steve’s desperate.

“You are so weird today,” Nat sighs, shaking her head.

The driver seems to take pity on him, though, and asks where to turn off.  Steve directs him to the complex of townhomes, then lets out an exhale of relief when the huge, thundering car pauses at the end of his driveway.

“Thanks,” Steve says.  “I’ll, uh, see you soon.”  He had told Nat he’d come back, right?  He doesn’t exactly remember…

“You better,” Nat replies.  Then, somewhat softer, “I’ll call you.”

“Yeah, ok,” Steve mumbles.  He grabs his shield and opens the car door, gripping it tightly as he steps onto the concrete of the driveway, which may or may not be moving under his boots.

Steve fumbles in his pocket for his keys and shakily unlocks the front door.  The Hummer is speeding away down the road, and Steve’s relieved it’s going.  His stomach is wedged so far up his throat he’s not sure he’ll be able to hold it down for the next minute as he gets into the house.

Sweat beads up on what feels like every inch of his face and body.  Steve feels the knob turn in his hand, and he nearly walks into the flat of the grey painted door because he can’t get it open fast enough.

“Hey,” he hears Bucky call from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen.

Steve’s on the point of replying, but when he opens his mouth, a gag and a rush of undigested stomach contents beat down the words.  He reaches for the wall and braces himself, doubled over, as he vomits all over the doormat.

“The fuck?”  Bucky’s footsteps pound around the corner and into the entryway, and he’s quickly at Steve’s shoulder, supporting his trembling form.  “What happened?”

“God, my head,” Steve exhales, trying to push his stomach back down to its normal location.  He fails miserably and his throat goes into contraction again.

“Ok,” Bucky soothes, sidestepping the puddle of sick and peeling Steve away from the wall.  “Do you wanna come into the bathroom, maybe?”

“No, I’m…I’m ok,” Steve breathes heavily and squeezes his eyes shut, hoping he’s finished retching for the moment.

“Alright, well, at least come lie down,” Bucky says.  “Do you think you can handle the stairs?”

“Probably,” Steve says, trying to give off more confidence than he actually feels.

“Ok, come on.”  Bucky’s metal arm wraps securely around Steve’s waist, and they start slowly up the stairs.  Steve grips the railing tightly, and he feels the whole thing shaking with the tremor in his body.  Or maybe it’s just his unsteady brain playing tricks.

Once in the bedroom, Steve immediately flops onto the end of the bed, letting his body rest horizontally while his feet remain on the floor.

Bucky starts unlacing his boots, tugging gently and asking, “Alright.  What happened?  You were fine this morning.”

“I think I…got hit.  In the head,” Steve whispers, drawing his hands up over his face.

“What?  And medical released you, even though you’re barfing all over the place?”

Steve lets the words sink in.  “Sorry,” he rasps.  Then, “I…haven’t been yet.”

“Why?  You need medical attention.”  Bucky finishes removing Steve’s boots and starts looking for the zipper to release him from his suit.

“They’re not gonna do anything for a concussion…” Steve mutters, tossing his arm over his eyes to block out the light.  “Just need to…be sick for a couple hours.  I’ll be fine.”

“You’re concussed?” Bucky says, concern melding with surprise.

“I think so,” Steve replies.  He massages between his eyes, but it only succeeds in bringing the underlying current of nausea up to the surface.  “Buck, I’m gonna throw up again.”

“Hold on a sec,” Bucky says.  He sprints away into the ensuite and returns with the small trash can.  The world tips maddeningly as Steve heaves himself back to sitting and retches into the white plastic bin.

“God, I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes on a hitching breath.  He feels like a collection of parts strung together in the most illogical way.  The sweat dripping down his forehead makes his shoulder cramp, which brings an ache to his low back, and then forces another wave of stomach acid up his throat.

“It’s ok,” Bucky soothes, adjusting the trash can in Steve’s limp grip.  “But, are you sure you don’t want to go to medical?  I mean, I can take care of you and all, but…”  He trails off, patting Steve on the back.

“It’ll…heal itself up in a few hours.  I’ll be fine by tomorrow morning.”  He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Hey.”  Bucky softly swats Steve’s shoulder.  “Don’t do that.  I’ll get you something to clean up with.”

“Ok.”  Steve releases the trash can to the floor and watches it settle between his feet.

The washcloth is cool on his face and neck.  The breeze of the air conditioning bites into his clammy skin when Bucky helps him out of his suit.  The bed pillows are soft under his head, but there must be a rock or something right below them.  Perhaps it’s under the mattress, or pressing up through the foundation of the house…

“Hey, wake up for a second,” Bucky says.  He lightly massages Steve’s shoulder.  “How do you feel?”

“Nauseous.”

“Do you want to throw up, or try to answer some questions?”

“God.  Neither.”  Steve tries to turn onto his side, but his stomach threatens mutiny, and he stays stationary on his back.

“Let’s try for a couple questions,” Bucky encourages.  “Who’s the president of the United States?”

“Do you know who’s the president of the United States?” Steve hoarsely mumbles back.

“Yeah, I do, but I’m asking you,” Bucky laughs quietly.

“Uh…Truman.  I mean, Obama.  But, no, um…Donald…?”  Steve shuts his eyes and scrubs his palm over them.

“What year is it?”  Bucky asks.

The bed is a raft, floating on an angrily choppy ocean.  “I think…” Steve swallows thickly.  “I’d rather throw up.”

The next thing Steve knows, the phone is ringing.

“Hey, it’s Nat, do you want to talk to her for a sec?” Bucky’s asking him.

“No.”  Steve wants to go back to sleep.  Maybe take some Excedrin.  Or go to town on a bowl of peppermint ice cream.  His mouth tastes terrible.

“Naw, he’s ok.  Kind of sick and a little confused, but he’s already pulling himself back together.”

Steve blinks.  Or, at least he thinks he does.  The bedroom is much darker than it was, and the cool glow of moonlight sifts in through the curtained window.

Bucky’s lying on his stomach, his arm tucked around Steve’s chest and his chin resting lightly on Steve’s shoulder.  The strong scent of pine-sol hangs in the air.  “Hey,” he whispers when he sees Steve’s eyelids flutter.  “You were talking in your sleep a little bit.”

“Huh?”  Steve grunts.  “What about?”

“I get knocked down or something like that.”

“Oh.”  Steve can’t fight the smile that’s spreading across his face.  He presses his palm over his forehead, cooling the lingering headache and attempting to force his thoughts into an intelligible order.  “That song.  It’s been stuck in my head.”

“That’s funny,” Bucky chuckles.  “Only you’d be enough of a punk to get a concussion and start singing about it.”

“Shut up.”  Steve weakly shoves Bucky’s metal shoulder.

“You feel better?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies.  “Not completely great, but I don’t think my head’s going to fall off now.”

“Well, I guess that’s an improvement.”  Bucky laughs again.  “How’s your stomach?”

Steve considers for a moment.  The slightly seasick feeling that accompanies any bad headache remains pressing slightly into his temples.  But it’s such an upgrade from the gale force of sickly vertigo from earlier that it hardly rates.  “Pretty good, I think,” Steve says.  Then, “Sorry you had to clean up so much.”

“It’s no problem,” Bucky says.  “I’m just relieved you’re back in your right mind.  You had me a little worried there.”

“I’m ok.”

“Yeah.  Good thing, too,” Bucky murmurs, lifting his head up from Steve’s shoulder.  “Now, you wanna come downstairs and get something to eat, or are you gonna demand bedside service?”

“Well, you’re pretty good at the whole bedside service thing, but then you’d leave me up here…”  Steve ruffles his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“I know you still don’t feel good,” Bucky says.  “You’re clingy.”

“Is that really a bad thing, though?”

“No,” Bucky smiles.  “Not at all.”

#marvel #mcu #captain america #old fic reblog

[faithylilac]

The party party part 3

B-baby god? BABY GOD? She tugs on her hair and groans.

“I am a thousand years old my good sir, I am far from a baby god.” She shouts.

Dax just laughs, “listen kid, if I told you how old I was, you wouldn’t be able to process it.”

She stomped her foot and huffed and the ground started shaking. Dax peered through the curtains to see a giant oak tree destroy his statue, split strait down the center. Not to mention the vines that start creeping from the floor boards. “Not a baby god, but ok.”

“Oh.” Dax looks at her, “listen kid, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I was trying to say, I’ve lived long enough I can spot less experienced gods from a mile away.”

The vines start to retract and actually pull down the wooden flooring back into place with them. She gave him a disapproving stare, “Ok wise guy, tell me— why are you letting random villages make gold statues of you? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Cj scolded.

“Yeah yeah, ruins local economy. But when the need the money they’re going to melt it down anyway. I’ve even already hidden a tablet in there to tell them to divide the gold evenly or else the wealthy half will die a tragic death.”

She just looks at him with confusion. “I’m talking about the spirt that’s been killing gods as of late!” She explained, maybe he had heard something like that. But there were lots of things trying to kill gods, granted all of them fail. “Actually killing gods? That seems far fetched.” He replied. She just shook her head, “All I know, the rumors start popping up and I haven’t seen another god since you.” He thought she was looking too far into things, but she might have her reasons. Surely someone can become somewhat wise within a thousand years.

Suddenly the door was kicked open by Echo, followed by Carter and Faithy.

“Since when did you decide to use trees to destroy your own face?!?” Echo screamed. Faithy was staring Dax down, assuming he was about to get them kicked out of another village. And Carter.... he was making sure he grabbed his whole stockpile from the inn.

“Ummmm... actually that wasn’t me. I’m not even sure I can make a tree half that size.” He replied. “But she sure can.” He pointed straight at CJ and the whole party gasped. Cj slightly ignored them, and looked outside. Her eyes were open wide, she made a very, very, very, very large tree. She could tell from the window that you could probably see it outside of the forest, it was so far over the tree line.

“Guys that tree is barely allowing the front door of some mansion to open! It’s so freaking wide!” Faithy shouted.

“We need to leave, now.” Cj said. She ran to the bank box and shoved everything into a pouch and tied it around her waist.

“We?” Dax spoke up. “Yes we, I’m leaving town and half of the town saw us talking last night. If I don’t get arrested, you chumps certainly are.” She quickly grabbed her cloak and opened a back door. “We best hurry, the mayor has connections within the royal court.” Everyone slipped out the back door and that lead to a darker area of the forest.

“So CJ, how long have you been able to control plants like that?” Faithy said in a sense that your mom just found out you were really good at something weird and she’s being noisy. “Always was able to, since I was little.... But I’ve lived for a millennia.” She said with a sigh. “Many things die in that time.”

The mood was silent, no one knew what was happening and now they have an equivalent of a moody teenager to manage. Carter noticed the air move weirdly and stopped everyone.

“Shut up, someone’s coming.” No one was talking, but they did say quite; except Echo who was trying their best to not be defiant.

A hooded figure jumped down from the trees and threw a sherikin at the priestess. Echo quickly ran up and caught it between their fingers, with it being an inch from Faithy’s face. “What’s your problem?!” Echo shouted at them.

The figure slowly raised their head and glared at the group. “You’re harboring a fugitive!” He shouted. They all looked at each other, it could have been anyone of them; but he did throw the sherikin at Faithy, so it was probably her.

“Dude you’re gonna have to get more specific. We’re running away from authority all the time!” Echo replied.

The hood he was wearing was covering his face, but his body language showed that he was disgusted. “She has one of the most sacred scrolls of Gjhar feiiled! She stole them!” He said, pointing at Faithy. She searched her brain for a moment, trying to recall doing such a thing.

“Weren’t you almost the high priestess?” Dax whispered. “Yeah, but everyone thinks I’m a deserter.” She replied.

“Do not listen to what this deserter says! She will taint you and your relationship with Gjhar feiiled” He proclaimed dramatically. Faithy just shook her head.

“Have we even met? How do you even know who I am?” Faithy asked. Maybe she could bring them to reason if she knew who she was dealing with, But he just huffed, and took off his hood. Her eyes went wide, he was a monk from the temple.

“Be careful, the monks also acted as guards at the temple.” She explained to her party. She looked over at everyone, but then saw Carter. He was frozen in fear.

“CAT BOYS AREN’T CATS CARTER!” Faithy screeched. Poor CJ was watching this all unfold, she only knew them for about two days and this mess unfolds. But anyway, a key detail I forgot to mention is that the monks at the temple are all cat boys.

“Is Carter afraid of cats or something?” She asked Echo. He just shrugged. “I think so? I heard Faithy tried converting him and he just started screaming uncontrollably when she mentioned Gjhar feiiled.” He replied. She just nodded and decided it wasn’t worth getting into this mess.

“Dax, you and I take the monk and CJ and Echo please take care of our precious blue boy.” Faithy unsheathed her mace weapon and swung at the monk. “Oh, didn’t know she was a fighter.” Cj said, while helping Echo Carry a frozen Nymph.

“How could you do this to the temple! You betrayed all of us!” The monk yelled while dodging the priestess‘ attacks. “You get tricked into eating one sacrifice and then get hunted down by a monk, didn’t see this one coming!” She retorted. She pulled on the handle of the mace and it grew and exposed some accident writing on it. It started glowing making noises.

Dax pulls out a sword from no where and starts swinging at the monk as well. “Do we even have a plan or is this it?” He asked Faithy. She rubbed some powder into the handle of her mace and frowned. “I would of Carter wasn’t scared of Cats.” She said, trying to take another shot at this monk.

A shield comes from the arm band of the priest and he starts blocking their attacks instead of dodging. “Gjhar feiiled would be so upset with you heathens!” He shouted, which caused Dax to stop attacking and start laughing. “Should I tell em?” Dax asked the priestess. What could he be talking about? The Monk’s eye twitched, getting impatient with the god.

“What should you tell me you loser?” The cat boy asked while pointing a shuriken at him. “I’ve met the guy— Gjhar feiiled, he really wouldn’t care.” Dax explained. The monk didn’t say a word and just threw his weapon at Dax, but he just nocked it out of his way with his hands.

“The what the huh???? WHAT?” The cat boy screeched. “HES A GOD AND THEY MET A GOD COFFEE SHOP OR SOMETHING! I DONT KNOW, HOW DO GODS HANG OUT OUTSIDE A MORTAL PLAIN?!” Echo just reentered the scene. something clicked in the monk’s brain, but that seemed to break him. He stood there and stared into space.

“YOUR MOM YOUR MOM YOUR MOM YOUR MOM!” Echo shouted some straight facts and that seemed to snap him back into reality. “NO! YOUR MOM!” He shouted back.

A sudden arrow appeared between the four of them. They look over and see two more figures in cloaks.

“DUDE! If I had known we were all wearing cloaks today, I would have brought my cool spiky one— Faithy you know, the one with the shoulder pads.” Echo started rambling while cat boy monk pulled out more shurikens. “WHOAH, WHOAH, WHOAH! I did not invite more people to this party, get lost!” The monk shouted. The two figures looked at each other, not sure of what was happening.

“How do we tell them this isn’t how a party normally goes?” The shorter one asked their partner. The taller one shrugged while putting their bow in an idle position.

“Listen here buddies, I only was going to murder one person today, then it grew to five— don’t make it seven.” The monk threatened. The two hooded figures just start laughing, “Oooh Cat boys are so scary!” The shorter one taunted.

The monk pulled out a katana from seemingly nowhere and rush to the hooded figures. The shorter one pulled out a banjo and the taller one whipped out her bow again. The monk swung at the archer but she dodged and drew her arrow.

“Should we help them?” Faithy whispered. Echo just shrugged and Dax was sitting down with a bucket of popcorn in his hands. “Guess not.” She sits down with him and grabs some of his popcorn.

The monk has his attention on the archer and keeps deflect her arrows with his sword. “LET ME KILL YOU!” He shouted as he grabbed at her. He managed to get a fist full of her cloak and pulled it off! “Dude!” The shorter one shouted. She had a a bandana pulling her hair back and cat ears poking out the sides of it. “MORE CAT PEOPLE?” Echo shouted.

“Oh well, cats out of the bag.” The shorter one pulled down their hood to reveal that they were also a cat person. “What kinda Nekopara shiitake mushrooms is this?” Echo shouted. The cat people sorta just ignore him and got back to fighting. The monk still was determined to kill the archer, she had the weapon that her knew of. The shorter one took the opportunity of him being distracted and slammed down his banjo over his head. The monk blinked then collapsed on the ground. “Shoot, did I kill him?” He said, slighting kicking him. “Eh he’ll be fine.” The archer replied

Masterlist

Hi this is the end of party three, everyone wanted to be cat people so... hehe Furries. Actually the actual furry isn’t a cat person, so that’s interesting.... anyway....

#friendfiction #the party party #part 3 #original story #nekopara shiitake mushrooms #will carter get over their fear of toe beans?

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 17

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here.  Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have notes on that or anything else, hit me up.

                                                        ***

      I held her hand on the way out.  Despite every outer wall of the place being mostly glass, it was much darker inside than out.  The sun hurt our eyes and we put on cheap sunglasses.  The city was bright and cold, like it often was in the morning.  It looked generally clean, but a few scraps torn paper and other trash twirled in the wind like flakes in a fishbowl.

      “Breakfast sucked, didn’t it?”

      “Yeah,” she said.

      “We could get something to eat before we get on that bus.  This place over here has mondo cinnamon rolls with this thick, rich frosting.  Probably enough food for a week if you pace yourself, heh.”  I gestured to a chichi breakfast place that catered to fancy business people.  The gilt and tinted glass face made the patrons look like they were wading through dark beer.

       “No, they’ll tell us to leave.”

       I considered protesting.  I’d been there several times before.  But in my reflection, I saw that poverty and misfortune had taken a toll on my presentation.  Maybe we would catch grief.  I turned away and we kept walking.  “There’s a Subway tucked into the grubby basement level of a less fancy building a block over.  One time I ordered a BLT there but didn’t bother to specify the toppings, and the lady gave me a piece of bread with nothing but bacon on it.  C’mon.”

      “Heyheyhey yeah, wassup girls?”  A familiar raspy voice assaulted us from an alley.  We both turned to face him, sure we were about to get physically assaulted as well.  It was Walter, still tugging up his dingy trunks from a bit of public urination.

      But the strangest thing was his expression - none of the drama of the incident that sent everybody to the police station, just the pervy simmering he’d give to any sexy stranger.  “Just wanted to say, like, dyamn.  Just checkin’ your form.  Ya both priddy, ya know?  I wouldn’ mind a sex sandwich.  Not that I’m gonna do nothin’ cuz I’m a gennleman an’ shit.  Unless you wanted to, cuz like...”

      As thick as his skull was, he noticed we were both paralyzed in shock, but he guessed the wrong reason.  “HEY!  I said I’m a gentleman, bitches!  Fuck you anyway.  Bitches.”  He turned away and started tromping down the alley.

      Momi went after him.  I shook in horror, mind reeling.  Was she going back to him and leaving me?  Why would I have thought that for even a second?  Was she going to confront him and get herself killed?  I was shaking like a toy on a string, unable to step forward, to speak.

      “Walter!  Walter!”  I’d never heard her voice that loud.  It was unfamiliar, high but resonant.

      He turned around with eyes half-lidded in an expression of sleazy hope, etched sloppy into a potato-like face.  “I don’t know how you know me but--”

      She stopped four feet from him, rooted to the concrete, fists at her sides.  “Why don’t you know me?  I was the only one, Walter!  I was your Momi.”

      “My mommy?”  He looked deeply confused and a little scared.

      I got back enough control to take shambolic halting steps down the alley, felt like I was too far away.  I had already figured out this was another effect of our weird state of trespass, even if I didn’t know what to make of it.  But I was surprised she was bothered.  It seemed very convenient for this monster to forget her.  Just take it and leave, baby.

      She did not.  “Lei. Mo. Mi.  You don’t own me, you don’t treat me like that and jus’ forget me!  Fuck you, Walter!”

      “‘Ey hol’ up, bitch!”

      She answered with fists.  I was shook again, paralyzed as she beat the creep.  Would he kill her?  But she had a slight advantage of reach and height.  He was punching back but couldn’t get his full power behind it, couldn’t connect with her face.

      He’d always seemed indestructible to me, like he was made out of solid leather.  Some kind of substance with no internal organs to disrupt, no fragile calcium-based bones to break.  But he reeled for a moment, stunned - evidence of a nervous system, at least.  She took advantage of the moment to throw a big punch that knocked him down.  Concrete did the rest of the job as his head bounced, and he was unconscious.  She started kicking him.

      “Leimomi!  Stop!”  I scooted my feet closer, careful not to get in range of those fists and feet, in case her rage was blind.  “We gotta get out of here before you get arrested!”

      “AUGH!” She kicked him hard one last time then stepped away, gripped a chain link fence and seethed.  “Ooh I’m so mad.  I’m so mad!”

      “It’s cool baby.  You got him!  That’s great.  We gotta--”

      She wheeled to face me, face his body.  “We gotta hide the evidence.”  She reached down and hauled his dead weight off the ground, very awkwardly.

      “No, if we just get out of here... What are you doing?”

      Momi leaned Walter against a trash compactor, pinning him there with one arm while she opened the door of it with the other.  “Get rid of the evidence!”

      “Baby, no.  He’ll get compacted!  Squished up.  That’s no way to die.”

      She looked at me sadly, still holding the dog man against the hard metal with no visible effort.  “I just want to hide him.”

      I looked to the ends of the alley frantically.  Both were wide open to the street, with cars driving by every few seconds.  No one walking by at just that moment.  “Fine, like, use the dumpster.  The dumpster!”

      She nodded in agreement and smiled as she dragged him to the dumpster.  I was glad this alley still had one.  The city had cut a deal with some weird shady contractor to do an “eco-friendly” garbage service that involved leaving proprietary bags straight on the ground for pick up, and did away with most dumpsters.  But the bags were getting torn open by rats, so the dumpsters would surely return.  They just hadn’t cut the deals for that yet, leaving most alleys a grimy mess.

      I held up the wobbly grey plastic lid and she hoisted her ex-boyfriend up and in.  One of his feet kicked her in the side of the face as he flipped inside.  I was alarmed for her, but quickly distracted by the loud sound of him hitting the bottom.  The thing was nearly empty, giving Walter’s body a five foot drop onto hard steel.  Fucker could have broken his neck just then.

      I moved to take her in my arms, pull her away, but was arrested by the eyes of a pedestrian down the way.  The man glanced at us, then kept looking.  But he didn’t stop walking until he was out of sight.  Maybe he didn’t see the legs go into the dumpster.  I imagined he’d have a more extreme reaction.  But I didn’t want to stick around to find out.  I grabbed Momi’s hand and tugged her away from the scene of the crime.

      Normally when I walked hand in hand with Leimomi our fingers would interlace.  On the way home, I was just holding her wrist or the outside of her fist.  She was too tense, too high on the violence of our misadventure.  We got up to her apartment and I walked her inside.  She started pacing the wall like a caged cougar.  I went into the kitchenette, wringing my hands, stopped at the counter to watch her go.

      “Baby, do you need to work this out on like, a punching bag?”

      “God!  I don’t know.  Maybe.  God!”  She kept stomping.

      “Hey, you could try the ottoman there.  I don’t think anyone is living downstairs still, so...”

      “OK… AUGH!”  She attacked the furniture like a crazed white boy, falling to her knees and beating on it with both fists.

      I just stood there, worrying, sweating.  At last she was done, and slumped forward over the cushion.  “Hey honey, you need some water?  I could use some water.”

      “Mmhm.”

      She didn’t move until I brought over a red cup of water, at which she just sat up, still on the floor, one arm resting on the ottoman as she accepted.  I drank a cup of my own and sat on a chair close by.

      “When you’re ready, you should take a shower.  And we can find out how bad you got beat up.”

      “I didn’t get beat up!  I beat his ass!  I beat Walter’s ass!”  She didn’t look mad at me, but she was suddenly getting ramped up again so I tried to sound soothing, take her down a notch.

      “I just mean to see, like, if there are any cuts or broken bones.  Because he did hit you a few times.”

      She crumpled up her mouth but said nothing this time, and finished her water.

      “Come on, Rocky.  Let’s hit the showers, OK?”  I walked her to the bathroom and she took off everything except her bra and panties for me.  I turned on all the lights, took a wet rag, and started prodding the livid patches on her body.  “Does this hurt?  How about here?”

      “Just a little.  It’s not that bad.”

      “It’s gonna get dark before it gets better.  Maybe all of them.  You’re gonna be a walking bruise.”

      She stepped back, folding her arms over her breasts.  “Oh no.”

      “Don’t be shy, baby.  It’s no big deal, as long as you're OK.”  I hugged her but she didn’t unfold her arms.  “You’re adorable.  Hey, I’ll let you be alone so you can take a shower, and whatever.  We’ll have fun, take it easy today, huh?”

      “I won’t be too ugly?”

      “Of course not.  It just looks sad when somebody is hurt, it doesn’t look ugly.”

      She finally unfolded her arms.  “OK,” she ran a finger on my forehead, “but you need a shower too.”

      “Do I?”  I took my shirt off, trying to do it in one slick move, but it snagged on my head wrap.  “These scarves don’t help.  Ugh.”

      She giggled and reached around, clumsily undoing my bra.  I took hers off more easily.  We were all sweaty and gross, but I was feeling almost high.  We kicked off the last of our clothes and stepped into the shower.

                                                        ***

      I gathered the ingredients for more wizard shit, which took a few days.  Knobby and Olivia were still nowhere to be found and another werewolf sighting happened.  Last time I solved the allergy problem with a potion, it was pure improvisation.  This time I had a rulebook, but felt like there should be at least some leeway for doing it my way.  I also wondered if I should be heartbroken and drunk like the first time, to make sure it worked.  I settled on drunk, drinking a few full wine bottles as I prepared my ritual components and potion.

      I saved the potion for last because it was complicated.  After preparing my little pots of olive oil, making one fancy wand with red tape and three kinds of wood,, and drinking a full bottle of wine, I considered that starting with the most complicated part would have been a better idea.

      You know when you’re wasted and you try to just focus really strongly on what you’re doing, like if you do it slow enough you are somehow going to make that line straight?  That’s how I was working.  I got the water up to a boil while putting each ingredient into a shot glass or small cup, intending to throw them all in at the end, hoping not to create something so toxic I dropped dead on the spot.

      The sulphur I had gotten in ointment form and the camphor as Vap-O-Rub from a drugstore, as well as an ammonia-based cleaner.  The “castoreum” - some kind of beaver ass gland exudate - was apparently a “natural ingredient” used in fake vanilla, so I got a bottle of that.  The opium was the most expensive ingredient by far - it would have been a bit shy of five thousand bucks - so I figured I could get away with a smaller amount if I used heroin.  I scored a hundred dollars worth with Deandre’s help which according to my math was about right.  I wasn’t about to boil a live animal but I got some dehydrated snakes and frogs from a witch store, along with some mandrake root.  To make up for the fact the snake wasn’t alive, I decided to add some of my blood to the mix.  I stole the asafoetida, some mushrooms, and St. John’s wort from an expensive grocery store and I was good to go.

     The water reached a boil and I drank deep from the wine one more time.  Part of me was convinced the only way I could do magic was by shutting off my higher brain functions.  I gripped the edge of the stove with one hand for balance and started dropping my ingredients in the pot.

      Vanilla camphor ammonia vinegar nightmare vapor hit me this way and that.  My lungs started to burn so I pulled a scarf down from my head to cover my mouth and nose.  I made sure I was nowhere near the stove and counter in case I drunkenly knocked something over, but I had forgotten why the scarf was on my head in the first place.  Reverse Courtney.

      “HOOOOooo baby!  Courtney girl, I can’t believe you thought you could get by without me.  Here you are, trying to stay where you don’t belong, I mean, do you even have a conscience?  Guess what?  It’s me.  You can’t shut me up forever.  I swear, even if all I can do is hum the words through a gag, you’re gonna hear me.  You got that bitch?”

      “Damn, that was a mouthful.  Listen, I’m only toleratin’ you because I need this… gag.  I’m borrowin’ it--”

      “HEY!  You forgot your blood.  Haha.  Try getting that in the pot in your current state.”

      “Hey yerself!” I was slurred from the scarf as much as from the vino.  “How come you’re not drunk if I’m drunk?”  I tried to remember which drawer had my silverware in it.

      “I am drunk.  I’m just very loquacious.  It’s the last one to the right, genius.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Don’t cut your hand off don’t cut your hand off don’t cut your hand off EEEEEEE I can’t look!”

      “Guh.  Fuck off.”  I held my hand over the boiling pot, put a paring knife to the skin of my palm.

      “Steady now-AAAAAA!”

      She startled me and the knife slipped.  Fortunately it was pretty dull and I only had a little cut, but it fell out of my hand into the boiling pot.  I reflexively reached in to grab it.

      If someone in a neighboring building was Hitchcock peeping on my unit, they would see a mad woman running back and forth, completely amok.  By the time I had Reverse Courtney gagged, my hand loosely wrapped in another scarf, and pulled the potion off the stove, the stuff had reduced to a fairly thick pudding.  The smell had somehow averaged out to something like vanilla mint plastic.  I just put the pot straight in the refrigerator, nearly spilling it twice.

      I finished the second bottle and went to bed, whimpering myself to sleep.

                                                        ***

      The next day I woke up to a loud manly knock at the door.  I almost screamed at the pain from my burns as I jolted out of bed to answer, but composed myself enough to receive him.  Grime.

      “What the hell do you need Graeme?  Sorry if I’m curt but I’m in some pain.”

      “Ah, it’s probably nothing but if you go in or out, be aware the pest control company is supposed to be coming and going today.  Could be trouble if we blunder into somebody at the wrong moment.”

      “Mm, yeah, thanks man.”

      He ran a red hand to the back of his neck nervously.  “How are you?  Just hung over, or..?”

      “It’s medical too.  Don’t bother yourself.  Just leave alone, if you don’t mind.”

      “You don’t have to tell me twice, Court.  Take care.”

      He left me to tend my wounds.

      I cleaned myself up very carefully.  The burns were only first degree, as horrible as they felt, and could be covered by keeping my right hand in a pocket or otherwise out of sight.  I happened to have some reasonable ointments for protecting and soothing the skin, so it didn’t take long to get myself back in order.  But as I went to check on the fruit of my magical deeds, the phone rang.

      Unfamiliar number.  “Hello?”

      “Um, is there a Courtney Marquez there?”

      “This is she.  What do you need?”

      “Yes, well, you applied for the tech position at our firm, Selman Design Group, and we liked your qualifications.  We were wondering if you could interview today?”

      I almost dropped the phone, hustled to the bathroom mirror, and tried to suss out the damage.  Could I be made presentable?

      “Hello?  Are you there?”

      “Yes.  How soon?”

      “Preferably no later than one thirty PM?”

      “I can do one thirty, thank you.”  No you can’t.

      “Sure. Putting you down for one thirty.  Thank you, Courtney.”

      “I look forward to it.”

      I did not look forward to it.

      Shortly there was another knock at my door.  Leimomi.  She was dressed in her black kimono-ish robe with her hair freshly-rebundled in tiers of scarves, and had done her makeup.

      “Momi, hon, how’s it going?”  I opened the door wide but didn’t step out of the way.

      “Mm,” she leaned in and pulled me close, “I was thinkin’ maybe you and me,” she kissed me, “could do some stuff?”

      The worst timing in the world.  I wanted her like this - ready to go, not feeling bad about herself.  Was that a bruise from where Walter accidentally kicked her?

      I kissed her back and rubbed her up and down for a moment.  Grr.  “Baby I wish I could so much, but I got too much going on.”  She was about to open her mouth to say something and I cut her off again.  “Tonight too, it suuucks.  I’m gonna try to get the exorcism going, if we can catch Knobby.”

      She stepped back and looked down miserably.  “What if we still can’t find him?”

      “Right.  If we can’t find Knobby by… ten PM, let’s get together and go fucking nuts.”  I grabbed her hands and squeezed them.  “I love you so much, Momi.  I will see you later, OK?”

      “Yeah.”

      True to Grime’s word, there were exterminator trucks in the alley, but I didn’t see any men around.  I chose to hustle past that, and set out for the job interview.  I didn’t have to worry about Walter recognizing me on a bus so the trip was less tense than usual.

      I could have a job.  We could have an out.  This could work.

      I wished I didn’t still need to wrap my head so tightly.  Unlike Leimomi, I wasn’t trying to hide every hair, and could let a crown out to accentuate my femininity.  But the scarf had to be tight over the back, so it looked goofy.  I’m no rockabilly or riveting Rosie.

      The building was one of those hundred year old three to six story brick jobs (four stories in this one) that dominated the art district.  Many had wholly renovated interiors and this was no exception.  I doubted anything remained of the original except the outermost walls and support structures.  When buzzed in, I found an interior of frosted glass walls and richly stained yellow wood floors, flawlessly waxed and shining.  The lights were blown glass UFOs on long thin poles emitting a perfectly white light.  As you passed directly beneath them you could see they achieved that with inner rings of purple and green light that somehow added up to a wholly neutral bleach glow.

      I couldn’t help but look up.  The glass walls offered nothing but a twisting gleaming corridor to weave through, the UFOs the only real feature to look at.  I must’ve looked like a babe in the woods.  One of the glass doors opened inward and a tiny woman walked out, dark brown hair in a middle part and pale skin, dressed in black, like baby Christina Ricci aged into Edith Head.  She gave me the sleepy nod of a clinically depressed person who can’t smile for politesse and walked away without a word.

      It arrested me.  Where was I going?  If I kept following that white rabbit, I’d end up in a breakroom or bathroom where I didn’t belong.  Like the apartment building where I don’t belong... What weirdness would befall me in there?

                                                        ***

   Read next chapter here.

#Rent is Theft #part 17 #nanowrimo july 2021

[aharpiesmemoriesblog]

A Harpies Memories Chapter 15

It seems every time I try to get out of this room something bad happens, now it’s just the three of us on the couch watching TV with heavy awkwardness hanging around. It got a little lighter when Alfred left to wash the blood off and change his clothes. since I could understand what they're saying on the TV it was somewhat easy to distract myself and not pay attention to Ivan, but one thing bugged me was what Alfred said. Ivan got into trouble with his ‘sire’? (whatever that is, maybe his leader?) which got him house arrest for years. What did he do? I wanted to know but base on the reaction when Alfred brought it up look like a touchy subject. A few hours had passed and both look tired from what had happened today, while Alfred went to bed Ivan still stayed with me but doze off with his body slouch a little bit and his head leaning back on the back of the couch. During this time, I started to practice my speech by mimic what people were saying on tv. I made sure to talk soft and to myself not to wake him. This went on for a while until my eye started to feel heavy and doze off. The next morning I was the first one up and that means I get to hog the bathroom first. While I was washing I started again on forming my words. After I got out and change into the previous clothes which felt gross but that’s the only thing I had. “I need new clothes,” I said to myself while I was finishing up and gather my stuff. I drop my bag in the living room and look at Ivan sleeping. It’s weird to see him asleep, even if he’s a vampire he looks like a normal human being. Well, semi normal. I sat at the kitchen table and empty my bag to find a comb. When I finished combing out the tangles from my long hair I decided to write in my journal. For some reason, I always felt the need to write down either my thoughts or if something happens down, maybe it’s a habit I always had before this whole mess. I started to write down what had happened in the past couple of weeks. how Alfred and Ivan found me, me living at their place and somehow Alfred thinks that I’m his maid. So, what if I like to keep thing tidy and in order that doesn't mean that I’m his mother and should clean up his mess! He’s a grown man for Christ sakes! Then a thought acquired in my mind. What’s Alfred real age? He looks like he’s is in his late teen early twenties, but the vampire is supposed to live for a very long time without aging, right? Of course, that what’s movies and tv show’s say, but is it true? were many things that human told about vampire true? And why were they in hiding? She could understand why they hid from humans. It’s common sense why to hid from them, but making them seem like they were nothing but a fairy tale only to be real and hidden away. ‘Maybe they're like me. Something that is powerful and rare that people wanted for their own selfish needs?’ It could be the reason but she felt that there was more to the story. For one if they were in hiding they won’t show any contact or connection with the out sided world, but that was already out the door because there were two vampires living in the human world and also there was Jake and his mad experiments, plus the package from the fridge was blood which means that someone is supplying them so they had to know who or what they are, and there was that incident with that fat mobster leader. ‘they act more like they’re in a gang. Maybe that what G.U.V.E. is’ I put down the pen letting my chin rest on my palm while my elbows were on the table in deep thought. I had an idea that could help me and kill Jake but there a chance that they won’t agree on it. I heard a door opening and saw Alfred walk out of his room wearing loose pajama bottoms that had the Batman patterns on it and a large shirt that had the logo but was faded and had holes. seem that he just woken up and move to the bathroom without noticing me. He came out an hour later with his hair damp and a towel around his neck. ‘he doesn’t change his clothes, right after a shower? It defeats the peruse of getting clean’. He walks to the kitchen to get something when he notices me sitting at the table. “well good morning” Is it morning already? It’s hard to tell because there are no windows. “You're up early. I guess you can say that the early bird gets the worm” he started to snicker at his own joke while I found it non-amusing and cheap. “Oh come on that was funny.” He said while I’d had an irritated look on my face “Jezh, we need you to get away from Ivan. His non-humor is rubbing off on you” he went into the fridge and pull out this big packed that was filled with red liquid. Then I remind myself that he’s a vampire and that was probably blood he was drinking.  He undid the cap on the medical blood pack and started to drink from it. In a few minutes, he finished it and throw out the packet in a trash bin that was right next to the fridge and went to grab another one. He walked over towards me and leans over my shoulders trying to read my journal. I wrote everything in German knowing that he couldn’t read it. “sooo… how’s the whole English thing working for ya? Doing good?” I nodded my head “Well how about this, since everything got off on the wrong foot why don’t we reintroduce our self’s. My real name is Alfred F. Jones but if anyone asks just say the name Alfred J. Edward and I’m a vampire. Then I bow down, kiss your hand, say how’s your day blah blah blah you get the point now you” he seem eager to hear me talk “Ummm…my name is Maria. I…I don’t remember my last name, and I’m a harpy” “Whoa, that accent is thick” my mood change into anger and gave him a glare “b…but it’s charming heh, so how come you remember your name but not your last name?” Maria digs into her bag and pulled out a golden locket which has a very detail carving of an egale with its wings and tail feathers forming the front frame of the locket. There was no pitcher in the side of it but some writing on the back. The letters were very worn down, and the only words that were readable were the name ‘Maria’. “It’s the only thing that I know that is mine. When I woke up I had no memory or clothes on, and in a sewer with that locket clutch in my hand” He took the locket in his hand and look it over in detail. “never meet a sewer bird before. It’s funny how neat and tidy you are that you end up living down there” that got him a kick to his shine “I didn’t say that I live there I just woke up there” he grumbles to himself while rubbing the shine that I just kick” The detail in the eagle feathers are not the same size and a little bit lopsided showing that it was handmade and not a machine. Also, the gold is a little tarnish and losing its shine plus some of the carvings are fading. Could have been an heirloom, and Maria may not be your real name” “What makes you an expert on jewelry,” Maria said while snatching the locket back “well when you hit my age you’ve kind of pick up thing here and there” “How old are you?” one of the question that’s I’ve been itching to ask “you know it’s condenser rude to bluntly ask a person age” he was now leaning back on his chair causing two of the back legs to hold his balance while still drinking his packet “It's also considered rude to look through a person stuff, withheld information about them, insult their accent and say that they lived in a sewer,” Maria said while crossing her arms and Huff in annoys Alfred let his chair legs land on the floor causing him to sit up straight but still sucking on the packet smirking off Maria comment like it was nothing “Ok we REALLY need you to get away from Ivan. You starting to sound like him” he finishes and toss it towards the trash without moving from his seat. “we don’t need another creepy dark loner around here, and to answer your question I think I’m around 300” “300!” I almost shouted “300 or maybe 250 it’s somewhere around that ballpark” “You don’t know your age?!” I said in a quick hush tone. “Once you hit over 100 you just stop counting. You're not young anymore to start bragging off your age and now you don’t see anything special about it because it's one more year that’s added towards you. If you think 300 is old you should ask the Russian age, he’s got to be pushing at least 400” “I’m same age as you пиндос” both jump in their sets by Ivan sudden appearance right in front of them. “I’ll take that back. I should be bragging about how long I survived under the same roof with this creep that doesn’t understand that normal people don’t like it when he does that reappearing and disappearing act of his!” Ivan seem to completely ignore Alfred but smile at Maria while he went to the fridge to get the same two packs that Alfred was drinking “their nothing normal about any of us” he said while walking towards his room and shut his door “you see you have to stop hanging around him, you still have personality and if you start hanging around him then it going to be buried under 100 feet of snow and ice” “I don’t hang around him. He’s always around me even though we don’t anything and when we do he start talking in Russian which I can’t understand. Is he always like this?” “you mean weird and unsocial then yes” “If you hate him so much then why are you, roommates?” “I’ll tell you later. it’s a long story that I don’t want to get in especially this early in the morning” as he stretch making his back pop. “and I don’t really hate him, their days where we get along and can somewhat agree on things, but right now I really want to punch him”

Alfred went back to his room to change his clothes, while I started to dig in my bag trying to find something that is somewhat clean. I found one pair of shorts and panties that was a little too big on me and had holes and a bra that I forgot to modify for my wings but it would do until I found some new ones. I couldn’t find a new shirt and I didn’t want to keep wearing Alfred button up flannel because it started to smell a little bit musty. He probably never worn it and has been sitting in the closet for a while. “This is for you” Maria jump from Ivan appearing out of nowhere. ‘I think Alfred is right about the whole reappearing and disappearing act’ Maria thought to herself while thanking Ivan. It was a gray turtle neck sweater that was probably his base on the size that made it look like she was wearing a baggy sweater dress and had some paint at the end of the sleeves. She could tell it was clean by how soft the fabric was and the smell of laundry detergent when she changes in the bathroom, it also had other smell too that shown it belongs to Ivan. The smell of cigarettes and I guess his cologne. It was faded from the detergent but was still there. “Umm Ivan?” she walks out of the bathroom to where Ivan was standing in the living room. “are you really 400 years old?” I’ve may be putting my foot into my mouth asking this question but I had to know if this guy was alive during the end of the Renaissance. He chuckles and shook his head no “Don’t believe everything that brat would say. I was little older than him when turn, he thinks it’s funny to make fun of it” “so what age were you turn?” “27” “So how old are you now?” He shrugs his shoulder “Doesn't anyone know their true age around here?!” “Unless you are younger than 100 or noble, no one care to count their age” “Tch” I folded my arms and look at the ground annoyed. “there is another thing I wanted to ask you,” I said to him still looking at the ground “this G.U.V.E. is it a gang?” This made him Laugh, not a snicker or a chuckle but a laugh which was load and bombing which made Alfred came out of his room. It seems so odd to see him smile and laugh, he ethers shown this happy smile mask he put on to hide something or just shown annoyed or blank emotion “oh god what did you do?’ “I didn’t do anything?!” “No, she told a funny joke,” Ivan said calming down from his laugh “I that wasn’t a joke! I just ask a question” “Tell пиндос what you told me” “I just ask him if G.U.V.E. is a gang?!” He holds his breath for a few seconds then just laugh out. both were laughing and she didn’t understand what was so funny about her question? “OH my god” Alfred said after he calms down from his laughter and whip on of his eye dry. “Oh… I would LOVE to see one of the higher ups facial expression if he heard that” Alfred said then straighten his back and stood in a posh pose with an equal snobby facial expression and talking in a deep English accent that was shown he was mocking this higher up person “We are more pristine of our governmental law to what the human believe in order. It’s a laughing matter that some of the fledglings believe that they are the same. We do not see or act on them because we have order and – pthbthhhhh” Alfred blew a raspberry at the end and started laughing again. “Oh, man misters fancy stuffy British man call out for being a gang leader just made my day a little bit better” both calm down from their laughter while Alfred was rubbing his eye “Why do you ask?” “because I want to join G.U.V.E”

#sorry it took so long to post this #this semester just kill me #Axis Powers Hetalia #Hetalia Fanfiction #APH Russia #APH Prussia #aph america #RusPrus #Female Prussia

[astraljedi]

Are you Insane? (Part two) - Antonio Dawson Imagine

Summary: Reader confronts her biggest fear

Warnings: Mention of sexual assault. abuse of alcohol

A/N: If you ever had gone through sexual assault, please seek help. I’ve been sexually assaulted and I know the harddest part is seeking help but it gets better. It’s been five years and even though sometime its hard, I know my recovery is better than it was before. 

Part 1

Being told off by Voight was embarrassing, especially in Y/N circumstances; she shouldn't be acting like a fool out in the field. They had closed the case successfully, but the success didn't save her from Voight.

"Did he ask about Antonio?" Erin asked, slipping her winter coat on. Y/N and Erin were at their lockers, getting ready to leave their shifts. 

"He said to be careful, that's it." Y/N shrugged, twisting the truth a bit. Even though Erin had been a good friend, she didn't want to spill about her past.

"That's weird, I thought he would have a lot more to say." Erin admitted, grabbing her bag as they both walked out the locker room. "Well, good luck tonight. I'm going to wait for Jay."

"Yeah, goodnight." Y/N waved her good bye as she walked down the steps of the station. The cold breeze hit her face unexpectedly, sending shivers through her whole body. Taking out her cars keys, she could see someone standing by her car from a far. Y/N chest tightened and her breathing got heavier as she held her keys close to her chest. She hadn't felt that scared since she saw her Sergeant being arrested in front of her. 

 The deadly look he had given her had haunt her for months. Suddenly, when she was introduced to her new team and to her new life; she had forgotten about that fear she had of him. Now it was back.

 "You look cold." Y/N couldn't help but sigh out of relief. Antonio smirked at her once a smile creeped up on her face at the sight of him against her car. 

 "I thought we agreed we were meeting up at my place." Y/N walked closer to him, raising a brow at him. Antonio brushed his thumb against her shivering cheeks as his free hand wrapped around her waist.

 "After what happened today, there's no point on even hiding it anymore." He admitted, his lips hovering over her trembling ones. The wave of heat that rushed through her body as their lips connected sent her over the edge. Immediately, her arms wrapped around his neck securely when he pressed her up to her car. When his lips detached from hers, his lips landed on her jawline as his eagerness caught her off guard. Suddenly, she placed her hands on his torso, pushing him away as calmly as she could.

 "Do you want to catch some drinks at Molly's? I need a few drinks after today's events." Y/N mumbled, pulling away from his embrace. Antonio only nodded quietly, confused at her reaction. They had made-out before and she never reacted towards him that way. 

 At Molly's, he stood beside Y/N as she sat in one of the bar chairs with their friends surrounding them. Antonio rested his free hand on her lower back while he brought his beer bottle back to his lips. "So, this is the guy you've been sneakily talking about for the past few months?" Atwater teased, squeezing Y/N's shoulders playfully. 

 "Now that you guys know you can finally leave my man and I alone." Y/N chuckled, resting her head on to Antonio's chest. He wrapped his arms securely around her waist as he placed a quick kiss on her lips. 

 "You heard her, I'm her man." Antonio smirked proudly as everyone laughed at the couple. Y/N's smile faded once her eyes landed on the dark gray eyes she feared. The ex-cop had angrily placed his empty scotch glass against the bar counter before drunkenly making his way towards the group. 

 "Bartender, pour some shots for all of us. We need to celebrate the happy couple." Halstead came between the ex-cop before he could reach close to Y/N. 

 "It's fine, we can buy our own drinks Sergeant Mason." Halstead warned, Rusek joining him by his side. Y/N gripped on to Antonio as Erin and the others watched quietly. 

 "I just wanted to congratulate the whore for settling with someone else." Mason recalled, his finger pointing straight at Y/N. "Tell me how you sleep at night sweetheart? Still thinking about how my hands cupped your breasts while your miserable cries left your lips?"

 "What the hell is he talking about?" Antonio raised his voice furiously, approaching Mason. Y/N could feel her stomach twisting as every word that left his lips only made it worse. Erin wrapped her hands around Y/N's shoulders as she noticed her heavy breathing. 

 "The only reason that little whore got transferred is because she couldn't handle an old man like me." He shouted, launching at Y/N but Jay and Rusek had managed to push him off to the floor before he could do anything else. 

 "I swear if I ever see you near her again I will personally make sure you don't see daylight ever again." Halstead threatened Mason while Atwater and Rusek kicked him out the bar and on to the streets. 

 "Y/N." Antonio approached her, but Erin didn't dare to let her go. Y/N's silent tears fell down her cheeks as she slowly stood up from the stool. 

 "Take me home please." She pleaded Antonio as her friends gave her some space. Without a word, Antonio grabbed her belongings and followed her quietly outside. Jay and Rusek quietly followed and watched them from a distance, making sure Mason wouldn't pop up again. 

The ride to her apartment was quiet, Antonio didn't dare push her buttons and thought it was best to wait until they reached her place. The thought of another man harassing her, placing his dirty hands on her body without her consent made his blood boil and his face go all red. On the other hand, Y/N didn't dare to look at him since they left the bar. She distracted herself with tangling her fingers together and slightly playing with them until they reached to her house. 

 Y/N's hands trembled as she tried to put the key into the lock but her emotions were just too much. Carefully, Antonio reached out and took the keys out of her hands. At first, she jumped at his touch but once he managed to open the door for her; she felt safe in her own home. 

Settling her things down at the kitchen counter top, he watched stand frozen in the middle of her living room. It had hit her at that moment what had happened that night. "Y/N, do you want me to stay?" Antonio asked, startling her as she had forgotten he was still there. 

 “No, no, no! Please don't leave me alone." She panicked at the thought of her being alone. Antonio rushed to her side and embraced her into his chest where she had finally let go of the cries she was holding back. 

 His heart shattered at the sight of her and the sound of her cries echoing in her apartment. The muffled cries against his chest were heartbreaking. She had been holding her emotions in for so long, the pain and the agony she had been going through alone and he didn't even realize it. 

"Mason was the sergeant in charge of the Narcotics unit when I first started. I was the only girl and everyone warned me about how cruel that unit was. I always thought they meant about how cruel the cases were, never thought they meant how cruel they were towards women who worked in the unit." Y/N began, barely catching her own breath. 

"We don't have to talk about it right now corazón. Whenever you’re ready to." He rubbed her back gently, settling her on his lap as he sat down on the couch. 

"No, I need to talk about it now." She demanded, pressing her hands on to his chest. She took his silence as an okay to keep on with her story. "It was a Friday night, I was working after hours on this case and I thought I was going to be alone. But, once I walked out of the break room from getting a fresh cup of coffee he was already waiting for me against my desk. He forced himself on to me, ripped my shirt open and cupped my breast as he tried to undo my pants. His lips wandered against my lips harshly but before I knew it, I was thrown to the floor and Jay and Rusek were standing by the door with their guns in hand. Mason tried to laugh it off and make them believe that I was into it but they didn't believe it. Jay took me to his brother and he made sure I was okay and not hurt. I had bruises covering my arms, breast, thighs and waist. But I felt safe for once. By Monday morning, I was being transferred to Intelligence and Voight helped me move apartments and set all my security up. Voight might have done some awful things in his career, but I will always thank him for helping me get out. Also, I own my life to Jay and Rusek. They basically saved my life."

"Y/N, babe I'm sorry." Antonio apologized, brushing the hairs stuck to her forehead away from her face. Her watery eyes stared back at his, her hands resting on each side of his face. 

“I also own you my life, you made me feel happy. I didn't feel judged or forced to do anything with you. You helped me a lot even when you didn't know it." Y/N admitted, caressing his cheek. 

 "Have you talked to someone about this? The panic attacks will just keep happening and I want you to feel safe and confident not only in our relationship but in yourself again." He knew she needed to seek some help, but he wasn't going to push it. 

 "Voight gave me card for a support group, I think it’s time for me to go." She knew it was time, if she was going to get back on her feet 100%; she needed to find some professional help.

 "Good, making some progress." Antonio gave her a small smile, pressing a gentle kiss on her dampened cheek. 

 "Can we just stay like this? I don't want you to let me go." Y/N asked, wrapping her arms securely around his neck and resting her head on one of his shoulders. 

 "I won't ever let you go." He promised, wrapping his own arms around her waist, holding her close. 

#antonio dawson #antonio x reader #Chicago PD Imagine #Chicago PD Imagines #Chicago PD One Shot #Antonio Dawson Imagine #Antonio Dawson Imagines #Chicago Imagine

[ellawritesficssometimes]

Ouija Board Mishaps (Day 6 Week of Hetalia, One-shot

A/N: I wrote this when I was sick and took too much NyQuil xD 

Stay tuned for tomorrow. I’ll have a more romantic fic planned.

@weekofhetalia 

Arthur’s POV:

It was a late Friday night, and against my will, my friends had invited themselves over, as per usual. Correction, I invited my younger neighbors Matthew and Alfred over, otherwise known as the twins, while the frog (Francis) came on his own free will, but certainly not mine. Francis was a senior in high school like myself, whereas the twins were both juniors.

Since October was the peak of anything paranormal, I decided to put an end to the mystery surrounding the hauntings occurring in my home. My family has a history of having the Sight, which means we’re able to communicate with spirits. However, the spirit haunting my family refused to show itself, – or should I say herself? – so we were forced to put up with its shenanigans. I grew up with these hauntings, whether it being misplaced socks, random knocks on the walls, or footsteps in rooms where no one alive was in.

But not anymore. I wouldn’t put up with it for any longer.

Impulsive, young, and stubborn as I’ve always been, I bought a Ouija board from Toys’ R US the other day, thinking I would finally be able to make contact with this spirit and get rid of it. Alistair, my older brother and guardian, was gone for the weekend, so this would have been the perfect opportunity for me to prove my worth as a spiritual communicator.

My god, words cannot explain how badly I fucked up.

Regardless, I didn’t know that at the time. My pride often got in the way of me thinking rationally.

Anyway, the four of us were sitting in the basement’s lounge, decked in comfortable sweatshirts and sweatpants.

Even Francis was wearing a white hoodie that obnoxiously read “I love Paris” on the front of it. He was wearing silk pajama pants though, so I suppose his fashion sense still carried with him wherever he went. Unfortunately, fashion sense didn’t necessarily equate to class.

Francis, seemingly out of nowhere, had procured an entire bottle of wine, taking swigs of it as he draped his hairy arms over the loveseat like he owned it. Alfred and Matthew were sharing the two-person couch, each fiddling with a 3DS in their hands.

Meanwhile, I was sitting cross-legged on the ground, setting up the Ouija board and lighting several candles.

“You still plan to go through with this?” Francis asked me, slurring slightly.

I reached out to confiscate the bottle of wine from him. “All right, you’ve had enough of that,” I grunted, ignoring Francis’s protests. “It’s my house, you cold-blooded tart. I can’t have the cops coming over to arrest you.”

“Ah, oui,” Francis mumbled and then proceeded to lower his voice to snidely insult me in French.

I padded over to the mini-kitchen in my basement, placing the half-empty wine bottle in the fridge.

Alfred looked up from his 3DS, his face paling despite the determined expression he held. “M-man, I thought you were just kidding about using that thing!” he exclaimed.

“No, you ninny,” I rolled my eyes. “Have I ever joked about something like this? I’m tired of this spirit messing with me. It’s not exactly a friendly one either,” I trailed off ominously.

Matthew closed his 3DS, only to yelp when Alfred clutched his right arm for dear life. The latter had always been unreasonably terrified of the supernatural. “What do you mean by, ‘not friendly’”? he asked softly, violet eyes blinking not in fear but rather, curiosity.

I patted the ground, inviting my friends +1 to sit in a circle in front of the Ouija board resting on the carpet. I needed them close so that I could explain everything properly.

Once the lights were dimmed slightly and I had my mobile’s flash pressed under my chin, I began my performance. I spoke slowly, knowing that Alfred was slow to pick up on things, but also in the spookiest voice I could muster. Francis and Matthew were both unfazed, taking more amusement in how much Alfred was trembling.

I chuckled lowly, allowing a satisfied smirk to creep onto my face. “Rumour has it that 70 years ago, three siblings moved into this house after migrating here from Russia. There was a brother and two sisters. The youngest sister was mentally ill, but refused to get help. Her siblings agreed with this, probably because they knew she would be institutionalized for the rest of her life if she was turned in to the authorities. The mentally ill sibling’s name was Natalia. Weirdly enough, the records only show her name if you google the murders.”

“MURDERS?!” Alfred spluttered.

“Muahahaha! Yes, murders! Your ignorant two-celled brain heard me right!” I snickered. Perhaps I was getting a bit too immersed in the story. I had always been quite the shit-disturber.

“Natalia was obsessed with her older brother; you could even say it was a fixation. When she heard that her brother had found a spouse, she completely lost her marbles. Things took a turn for the worse when the brother admitted to Natalia that he was engaged, and that she wasn’t invited to the wedding…”

Matthew elbowed Francis. “This sounds like a soap opera you would watch,” he commented.

Francis absently nodded his head, waiting for me to continue with wide sapphire eyes.

Alfred was full-out whimpering at this point.

“Now, you see, for you guys to understand why things happened the way they did, you need to know that Natalia suffered from religious delusions. She saw her brother as some sort of God, an icon if you will. And for him to be marrying someone unworthy was utterly preposterous to her. Enraged, Natalia began to break things in a fit of uncontrollable anger – there’s a dent over there by that wall where she supposedly threw a knife!”

I paused, pointing towards the dent I had actually made myself when I was younger. I had thrown an overcooked scone at my brother’s head, angry at him for insulting my culinary skills – not that he was any better mind you.

“When her sister tried to stop her, Natalia stabbed her to death. Soon, Natalia had lost all sense of reality. Her brother couldn’t hold her back, as she didn’t realize what she was doing – she was just that furious. She ended up killing her brother too before slitting her own throat, horrified when she realized what she had done.

“And that my friends, is the haunting tale of Natalia A. To this day, she still resides in this house. If you listen closely at night, you can even hear the sounds of her scraping a knife against the walls, taunting those brave enough to confront her.”

“Really?” Matthew whispered to me.

“Of course not,” I mouthed back, smirking. I was enjoying Alfred’s reaction far too much to back out now.

Francis cooed at Alfred, rubbing circles into his back before looking up to glare at me. “Nice going, you imbecile. You scared le poor diabetic fils. If his blood pressure spikes, his death will be on your hands!”

“He’ll be fine,” I shrugged, indifferent.

Alfred had already cupped both hands over his ears. “Nope, nope to the infinity. I’m not doing this right now. I betcha anything it was Communism that killed them, stupid Ruskies. This is just a made-up folktale,” he rambled to himself.

“It’s real, Alfred,” I countered, reaching for my phone. “I’ll pull up the records if I have to.”

“Screw this, I’m hungry. Not today, Satan. Not today.” Shrugging off Francis, Alfred stood up and walked into the mini-kitchen. He began pawing his way through the freezer, pulling out leftover cheesecake.

The remaining three of us sighed, going back to the story.

“So…” Francis drawled, looking uneasy for once. “You want to make contact with this Natalia…why?”

“Yeah,” Matthew chimed in, which was unusual for him. He only spoke when it was absolutely necessary; often enough it was to stop us from doing something reckless and stupid. Wait…

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you said so yourself, she murdered people… her siblings no less…” Matthew mumbled.

“Relax,” I reassured them. “I’m a spiritual communicator. I’ve got complete control over this situation. All we’ll be doing is speaking to her. If things get weird, I can always just end the conversation.”

Francis and Matthew didn’t look very assured, but they didn’t offer any further protest either. They were more intrigued than anything else.

Before I could get to explaining the rules of the board, the microwave beeped.

“What the hell?!” I spluttered, turning. “Alfred, did you just microwave a cheesecake?”

“Y-yeah! It makes it soft! I’m nervous, okay? I need something in my stomach if we’re going through with this!”

“It’s cream cheese! It’s already soft, are you daft?! That’s it, I’m cutting you off from drinking any more Mountain Dew. That sugar is eroding at any remaining common sense you have!” I stormed into the kitchen.

Alfred wailed as I poured an entire two litres of Mountain Dew down the sink. It fizzled as I did so; what in the bloody hell did they put in these soft drinks? Poison? Carcinogens? Radioactive material?

“Angleterre, you have no right to criticize him on what food he eats,” Francis chided, unwelcomed to interrupt. “Just yesterday you made scones that were hard enough to be used as a murder weapon.”

“I still have those you know,” I huffed, dragging Alfred back into the lounge like a mother hen. The American sobbed, placing a lumpy spoonful of cheesecake into his mouth. “Don’t make me use them,” I warned.

Francis raised his hands in surrender, knowing full-well that my threat bore some reality to it.

“All right,” I sighed, grabbing a remote from a nearby coffee table. I dimmed the lights further so that the ring of candles around us were the only light sources in the room. “Let’s go over the instructions, shall we?”

Alfred grabbed the remote, flicking on the lights again. “Dude, no. First, I can’t see my cheesecake, and secondly, no again! You’re giving the ghost chick an advantage if we can’t see her sneak up on us.”

“Fine,” I sighed. I compromised by turning off half the lights. “Happy?”

“No, but this cheesecake is hella satisfying.”

“Can I have a bite?” Francis asked.

“Dude, no. Get your own.”

“HELLO! If you morons are done with your squabbling, I’d like to get on with this.”

Silence.

I cleared my throat. “All right, how this works is simple. We all place our fingers on the planchette and let the spirit guide our hands to spell out letters or to answer yes or no questions on the board. If any of you fools even dare to move your hands as a prank, so help me god. The most important rule to stand by is to NEVER take your hand off the planchette unless or until we break off communication. If you do that, you are susceptible to getting possessed. I’ll repeat myself again: keep your hand on the planchette at all times if you do decide to participate. Don’t ever pull away your hand unless communication is officially broken off with the spirit.”

Silence, again. For once, my friends weren’t arguing.

“If at any time things get unsafe, we must move the planchette to the end of the board where it spells out goodbye; that will break off communication and prevent us from being possessed if the spirit is malicious. Are we all clear?”

Everyone nodded their heads.

“Right, then let’s get started.”

“Wait,” Alfred reached out to pull down my hood. “Stop trying to look like a thug.”

“I’m not trying to look like a thug! I come from a line of druids, damn you! I’m just trying to honour my heritage!” I blurted out.

“You look like a pasty snowflake at best…”

“SCREW YOU AND YOUR HIGH CHOLESTEROL!”

Francis laughed, snapchatting this entire fiasco.

Alfred furrowed his brows. “What does that even mean?”

“GUYS! FOCUS!” Matthew raised his voice, a very odd occurrence. “Just apologize, and get over with it. If we’re going to be doing this, we need to be on each other’s side in the event that something goes wrong.”

Matthew was right.

Alfred sighed, speaking through puckered lips. “I’m sorry you’re so sensitive, Artie. It must be because I’m two inches taller than you and you’re trying to overcompensate for somethin’…”

“What kind of bloody apology is that?!”

WHACK!

Francis whacked the back of my head while Matthew whacked Alfred’s. I hadn’t even done anything wrong!

After ushering out real apologies, we all moved our hands onto the planchette. Unfortunately, my hand was stuck between the frog’s and Alfred’s.

Alfred grabbed my free hand with his. “No homo,” he muttered to me. “I just want to protect ya.”

Bullshit. The yank was scared.

“We’re both bi-sexual,” I hissed with a whisper. “And what did I say about using derogatory sayings like that!? Tsk, idiot.”

Cue another pointless argument.

Eventually, we all settled down and began with the ritual.

I instructed everyone to move the planchette in a few circles around the board before asking the first question.

“Is anyone there?” I inquired. “I assure you we mean no harm.”

The planchette began to move towards the top right of the board, where Yes was spelled out in bold black letters.

“I swear if one of you twats are faking this!” I growled in warning.

“Dude, I’m not doing anything!” Alfred panicked.

“Mon dieu, did it just get colder in here?”

Matthew’s shoulders slumped. “Well, it was a nice life while it lasted. A bit more boring than I would have liked it to be, but I can’t complain.”

The planchette stopped, hovering over the Yes section of the board.

I cleared my throat. “Hello, nice to meet you. Can you spell out your name?”

The planchette began to move.

N

A

T

I stopped the spirit right there. “Natalia, is this Natalia A.?”

The planchette moved to Yes again.

“Oh man! Oh man! Oh man!” Alfred rambled. “We’re all going to die! I’m never going to be able to lose my virginity! I’m going to die a loser, like, like Artie!”

“It’s still not too late,” Francis purred.

“SHUT UP!” I exploded. “Do not break the ritual.”

“Natalia, is it? Tell me. Why do you steal my socks… or trip people when they’re least expecting it? Is that fun for you?”

The planchette moved into the space between Yes and No. I took that as a maybe.

“Do you not like my family living here? Is that it?”

Yes.

“What do you want from us?”

The planchette began to spell out something.

D

I

“DUDE IT BETTER NOT BE SPELLING WHAT I THINK IT IS!”

E

Well fuck.

“Hey, chick-ghost-dudette?” Alfred piped in. “Putting aside you murdering us for a quick second, can you tell me what Artie hides under his bed? It’s really weird how embarrassed he gets when I poke around there.”

Y

A

O

I

“It’s lying!” I cried out, blushing profusely.

I didn’t even bother to acknowledge Francis’s smug all-knowing expression.

“Do ya really want to murder us, though? Like, I get it. You’ve been dead for a while, probs haven’t seen any action,” Alfred continued.

“Are you insane?!” I snapped. “You’re only provoking it, don’t you realize-!”

BANG!

The ceiling above us thudded, prompting everyone to scream and jump a little.

Everyone but Alfred knew not to take their hands off the planchette.

I realized this when it was already too late. “Alfred, don’t!”

Alfred yelped, only to fall onto his back, twitching.

“What do we do?!” Francis screeched.

“Don’t let go, we still have to say goodbye!” I instructed.

Matthew grabbed the remote with his free hand, turning the lights back on. I really wish he hadn’t. Alfred was frothing at the mouth, a single tear of blood streaking down his right cheek as he continued to convulse uncontrollably.

“Big…brother…” Alfred gasped in a voice several higher octaves than his own.

“Where…are…youuuuuuuu…?”

How could things go this wrong, this fast?

“It was a pleasure, Natalia. But I really ought to let you go now,” I pressed, struggling along with Francis and Matthew to move the planchette towards the bottom of the board, where the word Goodbye was spelt out.

But, no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t move the planchette. It was like something was pushing against us – much stronger in strength no less.

“It’s not working!” I screamed.

Francis and Matthew joined my screaming when the Ouija board was thrust into the air. We all let go, paralyzed in fear as we watched it slam into the wall opposite of us.

Matthew was the first to crouch by Alfred. “Alfred, Alfred! Wake up! Fight back, damn it!” he sobbed, slapping at Alfred’s cheeks.

“This is your fault!” Francis accused, jabbing an index finger at me. “You should have tutored him better in English. Maybe then he’d actually know how to follow instructions!”

“As if arguing is going to help with anything! Crap! I think I have a Bible upstairs! We’ll have to perform an exorcism!” I shouted.

Matthew leapt back when Alfred began to laugh hysterically, sitting up abruptly. A cryptic smirk was on his face as he licked his lips, tasting his own blood.

I reluctantly present to you, Natfred.

“A-Alfred,” I asked. “You in there, lad?”

“Alfred is gone,” Natfred laughed in a cold, feminine voice. The lights flickered.

“And soon you will all be too. I must find a suitable body for my brother. Then we can live happily ever after! But first, I’m going to need to spill a lot of blood. My, my, you’re all so young. It’ll make killing you a lot harder. Especially that one,” (she? He? It?) pointed to Francis. “I don’t usually like killing one of my own.”

“What do you mean by that?” Francis quivered as we all began to back away from Natfred, intending to run up the staircase at a moment’s opportunity.

“Are you not a woman?” Natfred asked.

“Oui, oui I am!” Francis pleaded. “Si vous plait, have mercy!”

“He’s lying,” Matthew and I both retorted.

“Some friends you are!”

“You had no problem throwing us under the bus!”

“What is this then, a gathering of homosexuals?” Natfred remarked. “It would make a lot of sense. This one– Natfred pointed at me -  really likes shipping his fictional characters. It’s insufferable. For years, I’ve had to watch him lament about this ‘doctor’. And here I thought I was crazy.”

“DOCTOR WHO IS GREAT, YOU DEMONIC SHE-HEATHEN!” I raged.

“Arthur, not the best time,” Matthew snapped, being the closest one to the staircase.

Francis, however, gave us both a look, communicating the universal sign for ‘I’ll act as a distraction and then we run for our fucking lives’.

Matthew and I nodded our heads in assent.  

“Tell me, ah, Natalia, who is it do you think is the gayest of us all?” Francis asked.

Natfred narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

“Since you’ve passed, it’s been medically proven that gays are amongs the strongest of humans. You want a strong body for your brother, oui?” Francis lied through his teeth. I was beginning to question just how drunk he was. What was he on about now?

“Oh, how interesting. If that’s the case, it’s definitely him,” Natfred pointed at me, again.

“WHAT, WHY ME?” I whined.

Natfred glared, as if what she had just concluded was obvious. “I just do.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Enough, this is such a bore,” Natfred drawled. “You’ll all be far more interesting once I hang the losing bodies as trophies. I’ve been wanting to re-decorate this place.”

Natfred then held out its (I decided on the pronoun, don’t get cheeky with me) right hand, snapping its fingers. A ghostly butcher knife, one that had seen better days and still had blood on it, popped into view.

“Who wants to die first?” Natfred waggled the butcher knife.

“RETREAT!” Francis bellowed, prompting all three of us to turn on our heels and run up the basement’s staircase – the literal devil was on our heels.

Natfred hissed, sprinting forward only to have the basement’s door slammed in its face. Francis and I held the door shut while Matthew grabbed several chairs for us to block the entrance with. Unfortunately, Natfred possessed Alfred’s near inhuman strength as well.

“Why run if you’re just going to die anyway? Face death like a man, you scoundrels!” It hissed, throwing an immense amount of weight against the other side of the door.

“NOW!” Matthew barked as Francis and I leapt out of the way and began piling chairs and tables against the basement door.

Not a second later, Natfred headbutted the door, splinters and dust flying everywhere as it poked its head into view. Its eyes were no longer cerulean under the spectacles it wore, but rather a strange gray-blue. We were losing Alfred more and more by the minute.

“Hide!” I shrieked.

“We can’t just leave him there!” Matthew begged. “How do we get this demon out of him? You said you have a Bible, where the heck is it?!”

“Can’t we just sacrifice Arthur? Let’s do a group vote, non?”

“Ugh! We don’t have time for this!”

I grabbed Matthew by the arm and began tugging him along with Francis towards our storage room. Meanwhile, Natfred was continuing to break through the door. We needed to find a good hiding spot where I could think and come up with a proper plan of attack.

“Over here!” I whispered, opening the door of the cupboard that lay underneath the staircase leading to the third floor. Yes, it was a real life Harry Potter room, moving on.

I closed the door and slid down on the floor. Matthew was the only one not out of breath to pull out his phone, illuminating the small space.

“Well, Monsieur spiritual communicator,” Francis spoke using air quotes, nervously pacing back and forth. His sanity was clearly not all there. “What now? How are we going to escape this alive after this massive fuck-up of yours? Mon dieu, never mind. I’ve already given up. Maybe if I surrender, she’ll let me drink some wine first.”

“NO!” Matthew and I cried out, grabbing both of Francis’s wrists before he could leave the room and give our location away.

“Get your priorities straight, will you?” I snapped. “And stop thinking so negatively. I’ll get us out of this.”

“How?!”

“I don’t know, just give me a minute to think!”

“We may not have a minute!” Matthew warned, wincing at the sound of a chair being thrown against a wall.

Natfred was free.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Natfred taunted.

“Okay!!” I clasped my forehead with one hand. “I think I got it…”

I had to pause again as the sound of knives scraping against each other echoed across the house.

Natfred had found Alistair’s knife collection.

“I’ll be the one to distract Natalia this time. While I do that, Matthew, I need you grab the Ouija board and planchette. Francis, you grab the Bible on the table by the front door; if I somehow fail at distracting Natalia, it’s your job to make sure she doesn’t notice what Matthew’s doing.”

“What exactly am I doing?” Matthew asked, lips quivering.

“Move the planchette towards goodbye. You’ll be cutting off our communication with her,” I explained. “We’re still in session, and will be until that happens. Does everyone understand the plan?”

I received two “oui’s” in response.

“All right,” I straightened my posture. “Let’s save that moronic tosser. On my lead, 1…2…3… Go!”

I thrust open the cupboard’s door, sprinting ahead to give Francis and Matthew some space and time to sneak by while I acted as a distraction.

I found Natfred sharpening two knives in the kitchen. When it spotted me walking into view from the hallway, it grinned widely, murderous in its intent. It wasn’t the aloof, goofy grin I was used to seeing on Alfred – this image would likely haunt me for the rest of my life, which could very well only be the next ten minutes if my plan wasn’t successful.

“Succumbed to your fate, have you?” Natfred mused. “Although, I was kinda hoping for the other two. You might not be strong enough for my brother to possess.”

“Oh,” I quirked a brow, my strong tone contradicting how much my knees were trembling. “And what makes you think your brother would want to come back and live with you? You murdered him, remember?”

Natfred faltered. “I-It was an accident! He knows that! I’m sure he’ll forgive me! He always does!”

“Hmmm yeah, I don’t think so,” I responded, stepping to the side to block Natfred’s view of Matthew and Francis sneaking into the living room. “I think he’d be pretty pissed off. I mean, he had his whole life set right out for him. He was going to get married, and you just had to ruin that, didn’t you? Why? Because you were selfish. You wanted your brother for yourself, and when you couldn’t have him, you threw a tantrum like a rotten five-year-old child. If you really cared about your brother, you would let him rest in peace, wherever he ended up.”

I needed to make Natalia furious; to confuse her just as much.

Natfred’s eyes glowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” it shrieked. “My brother deserved better than that… than that bitch! Now I have the chance to give him a better life. I’ll do anything to make that happen! He was a King! He deserved more!”

Natfred’s eyes briefly flickered to its original cerulean hue.

Behind me, Matthew stepped out of the basement, planchette and Ouija board in hand. He ducked, hiding from sight by using the living room couch to his advantage. Francis sat next to him, holding a Bible for likely the first time in his life as he prayed.

Both were successful in their part of the plan; it was time for me to follow through as well. It was my fault we had ended up in a situation like this. It was time to take some damn responsibility.

“You’re overcompensating,” I hummed without missing a beat. Alfred was still in there, I just knew it.

“No, you’re a brat. A petty brat who’s trying to rationalize the impossible. You’re a stone-cold murderer. You don’t deserve even the body you’re occupying now. You know why? Because Alfred is stronger than you’ll ever be. He knows what compassion is, what it is to truly love someone. But you’ll never feel that because you’re a psychopath without any capacity for emotions. You never loved your brother. You tainted his life with your filthy greed!”

“SHUT UP!” Natfred screeched. “I should have killed you when I had the chance!”

I yelped when Natfred threw a knife at me. Luckily, I ducked to the side. The knife had crashed into the living room window, sending glass flying everywhere.

Natfred continued to throw knives at me, but somehow, I was able to dodge them all. It then proceeded to throw a blender and toaster at me.

“Jesus Christ!” I swore in the heat of the moment. “Are you trying to kill me?! Oh…”

Tragically, all good luck must come to an end.

Natfred pinned me against the counter. “It’s time for you to die,” it hissed, grabbing me by the collar of the shirt.

I hovered over the ground by two feet. “Alfred,” I wheezed. “I know you’re in there. It’s me, Arthur. Fight back, damn you! I know you’re stronger than this! Y-you can’t die! You were right. There’s so many things we never got to do together! I miss you, you dumbass. I want to do stupid things and grow old together, arguing and whatnot. You’re my best friend, so you better fucking come back already!”

“Alfred is gone, I told you that!”

“LET HIM GO!”

CRASH!

Natfred let go of me, falling forward as a Bible smacked into its back. “YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!”

Well, that was one way to repel a demon with a Bible.

“Francis, you tart. What in the bloody hell are you doing!” I gasped, backing away as Natfred whipped around to glare at Francis.

“Protecting you!” Francis answered, wavering slightly. “Only I can bully you and get away with it!”

Francis everyone.

“You were supposed to use the Bible to repel her figuratively, not literally!”

“It wasn’t working!” Francis shrugged as I joined him by his side. “I had no choice. She was about to kill you.”

I shrugged. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

“GUYS! IT’S READY!” Matthew shrieked.

Francis and I both exchanged wide-eyed looks before sprinting into the living room, crouching next to Matthew in front of the Ouija board.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING NOW!?” Natfred bellowed, but it was already too late.

We circled the planchette on the board before finally placing it on Goodbye.

“GOODBYE!” Francis, Matthew and I all shrieked.

Natfred collapsed to the ground, twitching once more.

“Aha!” I cried out in triumph. “I hope you rot in hell, right where you belong. You will no longer haunt this house. I revoke any invitation for you to come back. Let this board seal you for eternity!”

Natfred looked up at the ceiling with blank eyes. “Brother, I am sorry,” it wheezed. “Perhaps another day we will be reunited. I will find you, mark my words…”

Natfred made a cliché ‘bleh’ sound before falling still.

I didn’t have time to let out a breath of relief as I had received smacks to both cheeks.

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT!” Matthew and Francis shrieked before crouching over the remains of Natfred, ahem, Alfred.

“Yes, yes, I know,” I bowed my head. “Let’s see if he’s okay. You can lecture me later.”

Matthew pressed his ear to Alfred’s chest. “He’s breathing.”

“Unnngh, burgers,” Alfred muttered to himself.

“Oui, he’s definitely alive,” Francis sighed.

I looked around the living room, petrified by what I saw. The fridge was hanging on a hinge alone with several cabinets, not to mention the many broken plates, dents in the walls, and ruined kitchen appliances.

“Bollocks, Alistair is going to kill me.”

I received another two smacks to the head. “At least Alfred’s okay, though,” I pouted.

Speaking of the previous devil.

Alfred sat up with a groan, eyes widening at the trashed room before him. “Dudes, did we have a killer party or something? What the heck happened in here?”

Matthew and Francis facepalmed while I burst out into tears, bringing Alfred into a hug. “Yeah! Sure! Whatever! We did that! Oh, how I missed you and your idiocy!”

“Yo, are you drunk? Why are you crying? Man, I’m hungry.”

“Screw it, I’m taking a nap,” Matthew declared, slumping against the couch.

“I’ll join you,” Francis offered.

Next thing I knew, Alfred shoved me off him and stood up. He ignored the unhinged fridge door and reached straight up for the freezer, pulling out an ice-cream sandwich.

“I’m going home to microwave this, peace suckas.”

I deadpanned.

Perhaps we should have left him possessed, after all.

-The end

#hetaliaextraganza2k17 #hetalia #aph #aph England #aph America #aph France #aph Canada #aph Belarus #day 6 #tf blood

[guessmonsta]

Ok holy shit the thing you did for tsukki is amazing and PLEASE DO MORE ABOUT IT!! TENDOU! KUROO? BOKUTO?! TERU?? OIKS!! I DONT CARE!! you are A ma Zi n G ! ! , you can pick one or do it all but separately (which BTW will be so much battah)

Tendou Soulmate AU!!!! (P.S, every scar, bruise or bump you receive also shows up on your soulmate’s body)((P.S.S. this is shameless self indulgence whoops))(((P.S.S.S TRIGGER WARNING! SUBLIMINAL MENTIONS OF SELF HARM!!!!!)))

Ever since he could remember, his ankles were always bruised.

The idea of soulmates scared him, especially how nature put them into action. Sometimes, it was comforting, watching a new, purple spot form on his knee cast upon by an unknown force. It meant the person who was tied to him, whoever she may be, was alive, and human, and making human mistakes, and for some odd reason, the bruises she gave him brought him a certain fondness. On the other hand, it was horrifying. Everytime he received a ball, blocked one of Ushijima’s finger splitting spikes, all the beatings he received as a child, by his own hand and not, all the bruises, the cuts, the horror, it was all inflicted on her. This made him just a bit wary, and all the more guilty. Presuming that she was the same age as him, if not younger, as a child who seemed to be having a happy life, the only cuts on her skin pavement burns from falling off bikes, having to live out the same physical torture he did made him sick. He made a mental promise to himself to hold that girl and never let go once he met her. Although he felt guilty, there was one time of the year where he wished someone would punch him in the eye just to get revenge.

Tendou had no clue what she did. At this point, she had to know he did volleyball, the only bruises he ever received nowadays on his knees and forearms. It was obvious, absolutely so, and he wished her hobby was the same. Every year since he was five years old, spring meant torture to his legs. March through May was an absolute onslaught towards his ankles and toes, bloody and bruised from the first day to the last. Although, the bruises were consistent all year, hinting that whatever she did, it was constant. He wished he could help her somehow, because the pain on his behalf was unbearable, and he couldn’t imagine experiencing it firsthand. He began to think maybe she was doing this on purpose, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had a sadistic streak. But why the ankles, why the legs? Why was the rest of her skin so perfectly smooth yet once you hit the bottom, it was destroyed? Rope burns ran down his calves in intricate zigzags, and every time he ran a finger across them, it burned.“What the hell is this?” He’d ask himself quietly, wondering if whatever this was, was just a weird, western fetish. He figured it was cute though, whatever she did. He saw where the ribbons tied off into a bow, or sometimes just a sharp, quick knot. It probably wasn’t a fetish, whatever she did, but the oddity of it still left him wondering.

One day he woke up and literally couldn’t walk. Last night he went to bed just to wake up with his entire lower legs bruised up. He winced at the sight, borderline black spots covering everywhere from his tip toes to his ankles. She had a habit of overworking herself late at night, he noticed, and part of him was glad they didn’t share the same mental health. It was times like these where he wished he had contact with her. Of course, he could always scratch his phone number into her skin or something, but he had tried that before, and he was honest it didn’t transmit. Every so often though, he’d take a bobby pin, and very, very lightly trace shapes into his left hand expressing his mood. He grabbed it off his nightstand, clicking it open and gently scratching a heart right underneath his knuckles, just enough to break the skin. Sometimes, if she wanted to, she scratched something back, usually a likewise object, but nothing came today. Tendou didn’t mind, he knew he had gotten his message across.

It was May of his senior year and Tendou wanted nothing more than to relish in his remaining time of being a highschool student, but he couldn’t when everyday for the past three weeks coordinates were being scratched into his left thigh. He quite honestly had no clue what to do with them, and didn’t realize they were coordinates until Semi pointed them out in the locker rooms. Curiosity got the best of him that night as he spent hours inserting these coordinates into any webiste he could find. It made him feel like a detective, like he was part of some havoc seeking plot that was never even arranged. Three hours later, Google Earth fatefully drove him towards a studio. He didn’t know where in the world he was, for all he knew, he could be in Austria, or Zimbabwe, but judging by the familiar architecture, he was not that far from home. In fact, he was at home. He zoomed out just a smidge to find the entire Shiratorizawa campus, a sight that made his breath hitch. Whoever this person was, and whatever they did, meant that they have been, and might just be in that studio. The thought of it made his heart pound, and just looking at the address and focusing on the pressure on his ankles, he mustred up all he could to set off towards that studio.

When he was on the subway, halfway towards the train station near campus, Tendou began to feel as if this was a grave, grave mistake. If she was as devoted to him as he was to her, she was sending him in the right place. Then again, it could just be a set up somehow, but he wasn’t exactly sure how a girl in Zimbabwe would come up with coordinates to a building so close to where he lived. The tempest in his stomach roiled, and the closer he got to the campus, the more and more he felt the need to back out. This girl who he was about to meet in t minus fifteen minutes practically knew everything about him. She knew he was bullied, that he hurt himself. She knew the sport he played and lived through his life with him, and it horrified him. He was about to meet his soulmate.

When he stood in front of the studio, he suddenly felt small. Every single fabric of his being wanted him to turn on his heel and jog back home, but he couldn’t. Not when he could see the figure of someone in the window. Now that it was right out in front of him, the answers to all his questions were so painfully obvious. His soulmate was a dancer, presumably ballet, and that explained the absolute torture on her feet. His soulmate was a ballerina, and although Tendou knew absolutely nothing about her, he already had a feeling she was beautiful. After five minutes of loitering on the curb, and five minutes of realizing he must’ve looked like an absolute pervert, he entered, a small bell ringing on his arrival. He winced, for the music that diffused into the commons had paused, a sudden, small, tapping off feet echoing through the room. That’s when the nerves hit him harder. What if that wasn’t his soulmate and he looked like an absolute airhead? What if he got himself all hyped up for nothing? Although, all suspicion subsided when the figure revealed herself, a delicate being with soft eyes and strong legs and a playful, pondering smirk. He knew somehow that it had to be her, absolutely, positively. No words were spoken as she tiptoes closer to him, still en pointe on the tip of her ballet shoes. It looked absolutely painful up close, and suddenly all the bruises he had ever received were explained. She held her hand up towards him, the small scar of a heart indented right underneath her middle finger on her left hand. Again, she said no words, merely smiling as all the color drained from Tendou face.

He began to stutter, a red hot blush creeping up the nape of his neck. He held his hand up too, sweaty and shaky and motioned towards the small scar of a heart indented right underneath his middle finger on his left hand. He found himself laughing, gasping really. Short shaky breaths left him in staccato, shoving his hands back into his pockets while he tried to articulate just what to say. “I really don’t know what to say.” Is what he went with, his voice low and raspy. She chuckled, out of sheer and utter nerves and tiptoed closer, her arms immediately draping around his shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind…” She began, failing to realize his arms were already around her too. “I’ve wanted to hug you since elementary school. You’ve always deserved a hug.” “Thank you.” “I really do mean it.” She began again, drawing herself closer to his figure. Tendou could feel his heart pounding, the shocked state that overcame him far too much to bear. “You had a hard past, didn’t you…?” She tailed off, searching for his wandering eyes for an introduction. “Oh. I’m Tendou. Tendou Satori.” He hummed, lost in the sincerity of her gaze. “__ __, it’s a miracle to finally meet you.” She smiled, wide and toothy, her grip on the hood of his sweatshirt tightening for some reason. She was definitely excited, he could tell by the sudden sparkle in her tired eyes. “I know we just met, but would you like to come home with me?” She inquired, her eyes wondering when Tendou cocked his head suggestively. “Don’t you think it’s fa-ar too early to be-”“That’s not what I was going at!” She huffed, her attempt at a pout being broken by a smile. “It’s just that… Your life has become mine. For years my family felt remorse every time I came home with a split lip or plastered wrists, and I think it’s only fair you give my mother an apology for all the multiple cardiac arrests she’s received every time she’s seen my bruised eye.”Tendou found himself laughing at her statement, not knowing if it was all that true or not. Judging by the small smile that still tugged at her lips, it was a feeble attempt at breaking the ice. He shook his head, suddenly growing all the more comfortable towards her and letting his arms fall towards her hips. He hadn’t really soaked up her entire being yet, his focus completely devoted her eyes. They held something he had been longing for, craving for the longest time, they held the same pain and torment he had experienced, the same story and path and trauma. Looking into her eyes he realized he found an equal, a mutual, someone who could finally, maybe, understand him like he understood himself. His soulmate, a dancer who barely lived twenty miles away from him his entire bleeding life, a graceful, beautiful young woman with atrocious feet and ankles, last nights receive routine evident on her bare arms, and knowledge evident in her eyes. A dancer, with scars with anticipated stories lacing up her soft, shaved thighs, fingertips ever so rough from all the Guess blocks he had done, and a small scar of a heart indented right underneath her middle finger on her left hand.

#i beat my word count again! #this one was 1900 something words #by the end of the month im gonna be writing novellas on here #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! matchups #haikyuu!! scenarios #tendou satori

[btsxyou]

The New World

Part II || Part I

Genre: AU, set in the 1920s (including all 1920s things)

Summary: Hoseok is the son of one of the wealthiest families in the country.  His only goal is to tarnish the family name.  But sometimes family matters at the strangest times, and sometimes even someone as wholesome and hardened as Hoseok can’t figure it out. 

The sweep that jazz made through the city ran its way through small undergrounds clubs that were exclusive to few, but it broadened itself out and ran through all the dress shops in the city and became an ‘exotic’ type of craze.  Coming to life in its progress were dresses with fringe, and an array of costume jewelry.  It was a near recent realization that jewels could be faked in all sorts, placed in rings and necklaces and beading on dresses so that girls of the night could catch the light as they danced.  

You and Hoseok walked through the city streets, for once coming out in the daylight and looking around at what people were like in the sun.  The streets were wet and sloshy with snow that desperately wanted to hold on, but the sun was forcing it to melt away against its own attempts.  It wasn’t ideal for your shoes to be walking through this type of mess, but Hoseok was restless today and wanted to go out more than anything.  The weather surprisingly wasn’t as biting as you thought it would be, the wind wasn’t blowing all in fact, it seemed to have warmed with the sun, and the streets seemed lively and inviting with the slight change in weather.

Wandering the city when it came to Hoseok was always aimless, but like any fake drifter there was something in his subconscious that drew him to areas of the city.  Many of the shops on the streets were catering to new fashions of the time, there were tailors and higher end stores that were accustomed to seeing that you and Hoseok visit ever so often, and since he was such the young socialite of a wealthy family they often offered him their clothing free of charge, just to get their name out there.  It was true that he was well dressed, but it was also true that he was something of an innovator.  Suits weren’t particularly comfortable, it was often, especially in summer, to see Hoseok in an undershirt only, or a sweater.  Most men dressed it up to some extent with a tie or bowtie but he kept it simple, and sometimes untucked, unbuttoned. It was important to him that his image, glossed over by him being a wealthy young socialite and much desired bachelor, was representative of his true self.  Well knowing, but with a lack of care.

You stopped in front of a shop window, looking at the dresses on display, your mind wandering through all of their uses.  You were still desperately trying to come up with a plan… One that was more daring. That would really cause a mess but… it was hard.  What could you possibly do at this point?  Everything everyone did in this city was overlooked.  If only you could be a part of some raid gone bad, but you heard they let girls like you escape and just trapped the men in the bar and arrested them if they had to.  Bars across this city went dry just thinking about the possibility of a raid.  With the amount of money Hoseok had to spare and the name he had to ruin, he could easily turn to bootlegging, it was his style at least.

Old money hated the ways of new money.

Hoseok began to say something about the dresses, maybe how one would look great somewhere, but you caught something out of the corner of your eye, the feeling of being watched consumed you almost immediately, and you thought maybe you saw someone you knew.  Whoever it was, they disappeared around a corner pretty quickly without another thought in your direction, but your eyes stayed focused behind Hoseok at the corner of the street.  His smile faded as he looked at you, unable to hold your attention.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, finding it weird that you weren’t looking at the stores merchandise anymore as he was.

“No, sorry.  I thought I saw someone I knew.” You shook your head, trying to show absolutely nothing about it on your face, but your mind was deep in thought.

“I thought you didn’t know anyone here?” He huffed out a small laugh, the best that he could, thinking that he could be so sure of one thing about you.

“I don’t. They just looked familiar. It was no one.” No one, you thought again to yourself.  Thats all anyone from your past was to you at this point.  It would be really strange to see someone from your hometown in this type of place. Many people moved to the city, but not this far.  Right?  Why would they be here anyways? What will you do if it really is them?

The feeling was uneasy, it made you nervous and anxious to leave, a gnawing feeling inside you although they were gone now.  It was just a bad feeling, that things were beginning to creep back into your mind, guilt you, make you feel sad… You knew Hoseok was tired and felt cramped up in his room and that your room was not only off limits to him but somehow even smaller than his. He needed the fresh air and the change in scenery, but he also didn’t like how the strange non-encounter had left you.  He would never know otherwise but your face was saying too much, you looked scared and repulsed at the same time.

“We should go.” He offered, respectful of how you felt about the moment. Charm, as always.

Your thoughts were in one direction, and you remained quiet the entire walk home.  You wanted to pretend like it was no one you saw, that you were being ridiculous, that your eyes were playing games.  But the feeling it gave you couldn’t lie, and you had no choice but to think that it was them.  Someone.  You had no idea what they wanted but you wanted to leave, you wanted to avoid being seen out anywhere for a little while, but how would you relay that type of message to Hoseok? How do you say it?

Once slumped in Hoseok’s chair like you do, in that terrifyingly bored way that makes him laugh to himself, you still said nothing at all.  It made Hoseok terribly curious, and almost worried.  You knew what he was thinking of course, and that he knew better than to burden you with any questions about it unless you wanted to talk about it yourself.  Until then, he knew he would have to wait. You let your mind wander to those dresses you saw in the shop windows, they really were beautiful and could be useful even if you wanted to dive deeper into the belly of the beast.

“I wanna dance.” You finally said.

“Dance?”  He was standing across from you, still antsy so he was unable to sit or get anything done, but he had no problem talking to you especially if it was part of a new plan.

“Yeah, Hoseokie, I wanna dance. Don't ya think I could? Be one of those babes of jazz… That’ll really turn some heads.” You were plucking at some of your bobbed hair, squinting off into the distance imagining the beaded fringe swinging as you hopped around, glittering in the lights of some underground jazz club.  

“Then I suppose you need some new dresses, shoes… anything at all. We can put in an order this week at the shop.  I’m sure they’ll love to hear from us.”  That was the way he worked.  He enjoyed the wealth as long as he wasn’t the one using and abusing it.

At first, you were overwhelmed, thinking he was just overly kind, and you had trouble trying to see why he was so bitter over having money.  Before you even came to this school you were scrounging what you could, doing anything at all to even get by, so that your family could live comfortably at least until your next meal.  At least Hoseok was able to live in a way that worrying wasn't even part of this vocabulary, even if it may not have been ideal.  It wasn’t your plan to get into a life of crime, but it was what you had to do. Your mother had been ill, your father had been taking losses almost every place he worked, hours being cut back, pay being cut back.  It was a struggle anywhere you turned.  It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help them, but you knew you had to get outta there and get someplace else.  Someplace where you could really be free from everything you once were.

It was hard to keep a job for a working man like your father.  The most recent technological advances in factories meant that many workers were being laid off all year round with little to do, and a skill set that was now rendered useless. The country itself was rich, but that didn’t mean every human on his surface was able to live well.

All you had back home was some dream to live on, and a stretch at that. Nothing had changed much around you, but there were those fearless vixens of the night, their hair getting shorter and shorter each time you saw them.  In your mind you pretended you had the hair, that you were a frequent at a bar, dancing with friends well into the night and really living in the moment, actually living, really, truly living.

And then you found it.  The one chance you could to escape.  With a letter, tear soaked in regret and shame, you laid it on your small kitchen table, along with a stack of money you knew your family would be able to depend on for at least 6 months alone, no matter what would happen to your fathers job. And with a bag filled with everything you loved and all your nicest clothes, you set off to another city, someplace else.  Someplace you could finish going to school without any worry.

A days train ride northeast was bittersweet, a farewell that left you teetering on a sharp edged rock at the top of a cliff.  What is there to do now?  You managed to gather documents, things that would prove your worth as a human being, something that could get you into a school and keep you going on this alienated path that you chose to take.  The choice wasn’t selfish, something you had to tell yourself constantly, when you catch the scent of something in the wind that made you ache for your own mother.  There was never quite the time or place to mention how you felt, it was an incident that you had to hide, beneath the itchy wool dress you were left with.  

Standing outside one of the most well known schools in the country, you considered turning around and running right back from where you came.  Whats done has been done.

That was who you used to be, that was over a year ago, and you only tend to look back on it when Hoseok mentions his parents, and their company.  Because you know it all too well. Now you're someone else, with a different name, in a completely different place.

Thinking back on it now, its hard to tell what your family even thought of your disappearance.  Women were only paid roughly $22 a week, and it costed just a few more dollars than that to even live.  If you hadn’t been doing what you were doing, you could never have left anything for them at all.  It was almost as if someone bought you and thought you were worth a pretty penny and left it all for your family.

You had to stop thinking.  There was nothing left in your past to dwell on any longer.

“Do you know how to dance?”  There was no doubt in your mind he knew how to dance, you knew how from watching girls dance through cracks in doors while you were out in the late nights, and from catching a few people here and there recently.  The styles have changed greatly over the past couple years.

He was standing with both hands in his pockets, head leaning to the side graciously. He had that sickening sweet smirk on his lips, his eyes dark as always.

“Do I know how to dance?” His tone was mocking, knowing full well that you also knew.  “Am I going to have to be your partner?”

“No,” you said, pretending to be offended. “I don’t want you to dance with me… You won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself.”

“Neither would you.”  It was small but you caught it.  He had an amazing poker face, but his eyes always gave it away.  That small flicker of something absolutely debauched.  Of course his whole being was licentious, it was well known, it didn’t give many people much room to judge you as anything different either.  You were only his real girl on occasion, who were you to take him away from such a freeing and sexual lifestyle just because you were friends?

Only something so unexpected could break a tension as strong as this.

“Sir, you have a call?” The younger boy was holding the phone, urgently in Hoseok’s direction.  It took him a few seconds too many to realize you were in the room, but not because you were simply there.  It wasn’t particularly popular to be seen in a boy’s room, but Hoseok had managed quite the amount of girls in his room.  The boy was simply startled that you were there, actually having a conversation and nothing more.

Taking the phone from the boy he answered, giving you a look before leaving the room for the telephone room for a more private conversation.

His family rarely called, they resorted to sending letters since Hoseok would not take their calls at all.  He had brushed them off so often that the young boy who always answered the floor’s phone knew to say that he was busy or unavailable.  Strange indeed that he would choose to take this call, but the boy acted urgently.  His mother must be having a serious episode that only her eldest son could cure, what else?

“Pack your bags, sweetheart.”  He walked straight to his dresser without even looking at you, pulling out the top drawer to take some items out.

“What’s the matter, Hoseok?”

“Please go pack.  I’ll meet you downstairs in 15 minutes.”  He was holding a folded shirt in his hands, staring at it as he spoke.  You rose from the chair and exited quietly, hurrying down the stairs and out into the winter air to the building that housed your room.

The train ride was lonesome.

Today in particular had been burdened by rain, and it seemed to fit the mood of your train car perfectly. You weren’t sure exactly what was going on, but you knew better than to ask.  There was some type of cloud, darker than the ones outside, plaguing Hoseok’s very existence in the seat across from you.  The air around him was duller, like a shade was put over him, a damper on his usually bright and charming personality.  From this you could only gather it was a grim situation you were unknowingly facing.

He appeared much more sullen than usual, something about it tugged on your heart in the wrong way. Of course he was only human, and everyone had their bad days here and there.  But this was much darker.  It wasn’t like that, he had been absolutely himself before the call.  All you knew was that you were heading back, in the same direction that you had come from a year and a half ago.

The feeling alone made you uneasy, but this wasn’t about you.  

The train ride was uneventful, you managed to read a book in the meantime to distract your thoughts, its what Hoseok would prefer anyways.  You even caught yourself looking at him, trying to think of a new plan, maybe that would cheer him up just a tad.  Anything you could think of to make the days to come seem a little brighter, for the both of you.

Cars were cheap nowadays, not cheap enough that your family was able to own one, but one of the most important things about those in automobiles was that they wanted their product everywhere, so they had to make them available.  Wealth for many people was in abundance.  This car that you were now sitting in had to be a newer, and much more expensive model.  Possibly even custom.  It wasn’t the type to break down, and you imagined that for its price it would be able to pull its thin tires out of the mud all by itself.

You had never met Hoseok’s family, only seen his mother and sister in photos, so you weren’t sure who the man driving the car was in particular, but from the greeting he gave Hoseok and the greeting Hoseok had returned, it more than likely wasn’t a relative.

The ride was short, through tall trees, only catching peeks of large estates in their breaks. Each house was bigger than the other, it seemed that they were only getting more grand as the car traveled speedily towards its destination.

It really seemed like a fairytale— of course one cut out of modernity.  There were no bountiful of petticoats and no princes— although Hoseok may as well be one. And in his own right, he was the prince of a large steel company, a very valuable man and a very valuable bachelor.  Instead it really seemed as if the castles were just large mansions, the princes were sons of wealthy families, all lined up to take over businesses and run the new world they lived in. You were completely unsure of what you were here, not the princess, not the pauper, but something in between.  Something just as beautiful and sought after as a princess, but something as hallowed as a pauper.  Something very close to pretending, something very close to make believe.

You pulled up to a house— more grand than you could even imagine.  It appeared, only getting bigger as the car moved closer to it.  It looked like a more industrial version of Grecian style architecture, like the classical period come back to life in the modern day.  The road out front was just as wide and opening as the house itself, graced on each side by foliage and grass, the greenest you had ever seen it in your life.  As far as you knew, his family created a brand new shade of green just for their on yard.  The plants even found themselves winding up the columns at either end, embracing the house in all its wonder and beauty as if it really was a part of nature herself.

The front was partially blocked by stairs, those too lined in shrubbery, and a large fountain in the center.  You tried your best to hide your wonder, unsure of what kind of character you were to be playing at this point, but you really and truly had never seen an estate this size, or even set foot on one before. You opened the car door, looking all around you, only being able to see fields of green, and the glint of water in the distance behind the house.  So far, it was all so breathtaking.

“Miss, let me take those for you.” The man who drove the two of you here insisted, reaching for your bags as you pulled one out of the seat beside you.  You really weren’t good at pretending to be someone else today. With a nervous breathy laugh, you handed the bag to him and he smiled, shutting the car door behind you before he nodded and was on his way.

You waited a second until Hoseok came around to your side of the car, wrapping his arm around your waist as you both began to walk towards the house in all its grandeur, the light tan color of its exterior beckoning you to go inside and see what else it had to offer.

Your heart was racing slightly, still not trying to look too in awe at the scenery around you, but when the front door of the house opened you couldn’t help but to let out a gasp, one that was covered by his own mother’s wailings.

“Hoseok! Oh my darling! I’m so glad you are here, you have come just in time! You must see him right away— Oh! Who is this, dear?” The woman turned to you quickly, pretending as if she had just noticed your presence.

“This is my girl, mother.  Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.  I thought it would be proper to bring her along.” Your heart skipped a beat when he mentioned you as his ‘girl’.  It was something that occurred so often you barely noticed it, but it was in a different tone, a different circumstance.  He didn’t have to bring you here at all, let alone mention you to his family.

“Oh, of course my dearest you have mentioned her a few times.  It is so lovely to meet you darling, I feel so rude not being able to greet you properly. Hoseok, please do tend to your grandfather, you must.  You must!” She was almost flailing, tears in her eyes. He nodded quickly, and rubbed his hand up and down your back once before leaving the room, and you, behind.

“Dear, I’m so glad that we are to meet now, even under these dire circumstances.  Did Hoseok tell you? I’d hate for you to be so unaware, but even I know that my son can be neglectful.  I will tell you now then.  Please sit,” She waved her hand at the large study-like living area she led you to, walls lined with beautiful portraits, the windows wide and open towards the large body of water you had seen outside.  The view, the room and also outside, were both magnificently beautiful, and unimaginable.

“My father has been gravely ill.  I’ve postponed in telling Hoseok as long as possible.  I know how he felt about him, I didn’t want him to have to be burdened so heavily during his studies.  But now I fear I may have contacted him too late.  I hope father does not perish sooner than a few days, I will miss him terribly so.  I do want Hoseok to have the right amount of time with him, no less and no more.  If there’s one thing I know about grief, its as prolonged as the attachment and as deep as your soul itself.”

You listened to her words quietly, examining the way she held herself, even with such poise at talking about the soon-to-be death of her beloved father.  At least you presumed it was beloved, from her words to the look in her eye when she spoke, he must have taught her everything she knows, and given her all the opportunities as possible.

“I’m sorry to also burden you with this so suddenly, my doll you must be so confused!  I will spare you more details until later.  I’m sure you are very tired from your trip as well, let George show you the way to your room, you can freshen up as you please, and come back down when you are ready.  He can run you a bath as well, if you wish.”

You rose and followed ‘George’ as he has been named through the large interior of the house, up a grand staircase and down a long hallway until you reached a room where your bags had already been placed.  The interior of this whole house was astonishing, extravagant, something that only a queen would know of. Whole rooms within this house had been transported here from Italy and France,  set up just in the same way.  It was a rare case of authenticity, completely unnecessary but it was more than beautiful.

“Shall I run you a bath, miss?”

“Oh, no thank you,” you said shaking your head shyly. “I believe I will just unpack and freshen up.  Maybe later tonight.”

“Anything you wish.  Please tell me when and I will attend to you.” He gave a wide smile and then exited the room, closing the grand doors behind him.  You slipped the warm coat off your shoulders and removed the gloves from both of your hands, laying them out on the bed to hang them last.

You carried a bag over the to wardrobe, taking your dresses out one by one and hanging them inside, placing your extra pair of shoes inside also, along with a few undergarments and other things.  You slipped your mink coat off— the one that you had just remembered with a rush of blood to the face that belonged previously to Hoseok’s mother.  As you hung it among your dresses, you hoped silently that she hadn’t noticed.  You could always say you happened upon the same design someplace else.

You chose a more casual dress, one much unlike the other you were wearing now.  

The bathroom was much bigger than expected, the floors tiled white as well as the walls halfway, with a similar wall design to the bedroom in which it was connected.  You also looked at the bathtub in awe, it was not only large but the porcelain structure appeared to be carved so delicately into a beautiful and winding design, marked by straight vertical lines continuing along the rest of its body.  The sink was marbled in comparison to the white surrounding it on all sides.  There was also mirrors lining the wall, you could see your reflection every which way you turned.

For now you just settled on washing your face the best you could, there were soaps laid out on the sink for you to use, as well as small perfumes.  The day had been long, so long in fact that it barely even felt like a day had occurred, it felt like several days had all happened at once.  This morning was so disconnected from your reality as of the moment, and was probably done so by the train and car ride to the estate.

The cold water was refreshing, washing the day of travel from your skin, adding moisture back into it from the dry and chapped winter air outside. You wiped at your lips, trying to rid of the ruby tint as well as you could.  It was of habit now that you wore it but such types of scarlet were not respectful on ladies lips.  You made a small impression you hoped on his mother, but you had yet to meet the rest of his family and wanted to make a good impression.  Hoseok had his issues, and you had yours, but you would still be respectful towards them, especially at this time.

You rouged your cheeks lightly, giving yourself a healthy looking blush, nothing as drastic as you could be doing.  There wasn’t much to do about your hair though, its short length only allowed you to run a brush through it and hope for the best.  All the girls were cutting their hair short, but there was till something about the style that put parents on edge. As you ran the bristles through your hair, your mind wandered to Hoseok.

What kind of thing was there even for you to do now? He desperately wanted to cause a scene, make something happen that his family could not even imagine him to do.  Nothing that would cause harm to anyone except his own family.  There was something, however, about his mood today and stature that pointed to something that you weren’t used to seeing.  He never liked his family, when they were mentioned he became tense without realizing it, like whoever let the name slip struck a chord in him that was the deepest and resonated the most.

You only knew of him what he told you and what you were able to observe.  So his actions regarding his grandfather were strange.  They were guilty, they were distant and held so much emotion you didn’t know what to make of them at all.  It was like his whole demeanor was a flood wall and needed to burst, needed to speak and have the words pour out until they became a very gentle flowing river with little disturbance.

You felt as if you didn’t spend enough time preparing yourself for the evening ahead of you, but you were restless.  Your heart was racing although you had barely done anything other than change clothes, and although you were in a very warm and inviting environment you couldn’t help but to feel uneasy or out of place.  Your mind was too focused on Hoseok’s situation, the whole reason why you were even here.

Deciding to rejoin his mother downstairs, you leave your designated bedroom and walk down the hall the way you came before— at least you think this is the way you came before.  The hallways were massive but they were unfamiliar, there was plenty of room to get lost in this grand of a house, and especially in this hallway. Finally nearing a set of stairs, you notice one door next to them open, and noting the type of door that was on the bedroom you would be staying it, it had to be another bedroom.

The floors were lined with beautiful rugs, so your approach to the single door that was opened wide produced no sound, and left its occupants completely unaware.  Looking inside, you noticed a man lying in bed fast asleep, and another man hunched over in a chair beside the bed.  It didn’t take you long to recognize Hoseok’s body, although it was partially covered and his back was to you.

Sullen wasn’t the word for it anymore.  It wasn’t a mood, it wasn’t something easily overcome. It was morbid, it was languishing.  You couldn’t even see his face, but his shoulders sulked so drastically, so far from their usual broad an upright position that it made you wonder.  Was it your eyes playing with you so cruelly, or could you see them shaking?  Whatever the trick, it made your heart jump so suddenly, not in the way that you much preferred, but in a way that was certainly unsettling.

Lost in thought, you had failed to notice that he was now leaving his grandfather’s bedside.  Standing from his chair and facing the open doorway, he wiped at his nose, and his eyes quickly.  The tear stained cheeks could not be salvaged so quickly, and remained red and damp despite his desperate attempts.  He noticed your figure outside the doorway, and groaned internally in both remorse and anger.

Happening to look up, you noticed his shameful eyes, his face shining the dim light from his tears, his expression…showing something peculiar.  You knew immediately that you were in the wrong, you were never to see him this way, and you thought that you never even would. Maybe thats why you couldn’t look away.  Maybe thats why you had yet to leave and pretend like nothing happened at all.

He was hesitant, beginning to take a step but stopping abruptly, not even knowing what to do with himself at all.  He wanted to disappear, to turn into nothing and float up into the air where emotions where extinct and he could go back to the way he was before, feeling absolutely nothing at all. He needed to move, he needed to go, but where?

He expression changed soon to one of irritation, the idea being given that you had done the worst possible in seeing this, even though you knew it wasn’t you, that feeling was not meant for you at all.  All you could do was let him go, and watching him walk towards you and down the large hallway without a further glance was unpleasant.  As much as your legs wanted to follow his footsteps, you stayed behind, and instead retreated in the opposite direction, down the stairs to find his family.

Your eyes traced over the gold leafing on the walls, embroidering them with all of its luster.  The ceilings in particular where extravagantly designed, and in fact busy. It wasn’t uncomfortably so, but tastefully.  It felt like you surely were in another world at this point, a new world that you never thought you’d see yourself.

You subconsciously followed the sound of voices, speaking calmly to one another as you passed through the main and mostly grand foyer, your eyes still focusing on the ceilings, but now taking turns through the frescoes and chandeliers.

You were relieved to know that the room they were in was the same room you sat with his mother in, finally in a room again that was familiar to you. It was oddly refreshing, you felt like a complete tourist in this house.  You had to be careful or they would’ve thought you’d never seen a house before in your life.

His mother noticed your presence and smile beautifully at you, it was no wonder Hoseok’s face was so incredibly sculpted, he appeared to have acquired the genes of none less than a goddess.  It was strange that you were only nothing this about her now, but maybe you were just getting familiar with her as well.

The man in the chair across from her huffed, a cigar in hand and a glass of brandy on the table next to him.

“This is who he brought?  I’m not sure I could’ve expected any less.  Can’t you see? He brought home one of them!  They’re all over the papers… she’s obviously no good!” He waved the hand holding the cigar about in the air, talking about you as if your presence was not so near.  You knew of course in your mind that people would say such things, after all you did have the hair and spent a lengthy amount of time in bars and out in the night. He wasn’t wrong.

But perhaps its too difficult to say really to what extent the adult world has come to think of girls like you, and guys like Hoseok.  Unless one was to experience such a drastic contrast such as this, one would understand.  The generation before this was much more quiet and did not feel the need to express themselves— especially the women.  But girls of your age realized what that meant— it meant losing out on all the fun, staying in every night and acting as someone you really weren’t, craving the liberation that bobbed hair and short dresses gave you. Thats all it was really about.  But blown up on a larger scale, and something that would change time forever.

It wasn’t the boys who were even looked upon poorly, it was just the girls.  And if Hoseok was to be seen with you no one would think any less of him or find it to be strange, but you they could immediately draw judgment upon. So even though your cheeks were burning underneath an invisible slap that was placed upon your whole character by his father, you had to let the handprint subside and play the part you were given.

You could still be a well mannered and responsible girl.  You were not innately bad.

“Hush! My darling,” she waved her arm in hopes that you would sit next to her on the small sofa.  “Hoseok has good taste, I trust in that.  After all, I did teach him all he knows.”

It was only truly expected that a family of such wealth and status would hold onto such Victorian values.  Those were things that were hard to give up, the full household, built on good manners and stable family roles that were rarely challenged or discussed. Every issue seemed to be ignored or faced head on and ended as abruptly as they came.

“It’s almost time for dinner… poor Hoseokie, I wonder if he will even be able to eat.  I could excuse it this time.  He has many a good reason to skip a meal.” She looked at the floor in front of her, tugging at the small lace trimmed handkerchief in her hands.

“M’am, I could go check on him, I’m worried as well.” You offered, catching his father shaking his head out the corner of your eye.  His mother shot him a nasty look, into which his expression changed to almost the complete opposite.

“That would be wonderful.  Come back here after you’re finished, and we will have dinner.”

In managing to escape, even if it was for a few minutes, you made your way up the grand staircase, locating Hoseok’s door as quickly as you could, and leaving a light rasp on the thick wooden panels. There must be dozens and dozens of rooms within this mansion, but you  learned that the bedrooms all had similar doors.

“Hoseokie…” You murmured into the wood, hoping that at hearing your voice he would open the door.  You leaned with your head up against the door frame, waiting for some type of response, hoping that it just wasn’t the silence you heard now.

The door opened quickly, and he pulled you inside by your arm unexpectedly.  Your body was pushed lightly against the door causing it to close behind you, as a pair of hands tangled in the back of your bobbed hair.  His nose pressed against yours, eyes closed knowing that you would see something in them, however his expression gave it all away.  He grimaced in the dim lighting of his bedroom, the light playing off every wrinkle caused by his distress.  He was somehow no less beautiful than normal, despite his reddened face and slightly puffy eyes.

He pulled away with a sniffle, realizing that he should probably start acting like himself, strict poker face and emotions on a rain check.  You knew that if he wanted to talk he would, he wouldn’t hesitate and he wouldn’t hide.  He was perfectly good about being straightforward, but today in particular has been strange for everyone and everything.  It was the right time of day for you to just accept this slight change in the weather of this house, of your relationship with Hoseok. Clouds and rain and all. The storm was yet to come.

He sat down on his bed slowly, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward, head cocked to the side ready to speak.  You waited, back against the door, hands intertwined and placed flat against the wooden panels, close enough to the outside world to keep you grounded right here in this moment and not on a completely other universe.

“Who did you see?” He asked finally, his eyes now were calmer, like a gentle tide that settled right after a rough wave. The question was not only surprising, but somehow even inappropriate. It was a type of boundary he knew never to cross at all, but it seemed that those boundaries now were burned, leaving a line of ash that was easily blown apart by the wind letting things like this slip in.

“It’s not time for show and tell Hoseok.” You kept your eyes away from him.  Looking at him sometimes made your answers hard to manage. He had a way of working things out of people with a single look, and you were no different under some circumstances.  This was one of those times, and on this day you were both fragile in your own ways, shaken ever so violently under your skin.

“I’ll show, you can tell. I think I have a right to know.”

You stared right into the blazing fireplace across from you as he spoke, not wanting to answer at all.  Unfamiliar territory, a place where you didn’t want to be as if your life depended on you staying away from it.

“I’ll think about it.  Your family is waiting on me, its time for dinner.  I need to make a good impression. Will you be coming?”

“Don’t place any bets on me, doll.  George will bring me something.” He laid back on his bed, grabbing a book off the nightstand and opening it up to a page you swore was unmarked.  How he always knew where to go was a mystery to you.

“I’ll be back after.” You opened the door and escaped the stiff air of his room, forcing yourself now to enjoy a dinner alone with his family.

“I just thought I saw someone I knew.”  You had broken the silence clouding Hoseok’s bedroom, after a stalemate of a staring contest.  You wanted to tell him, but at the same time you didn’t want him to know a single thing about it.

He looked at you questioningly, his eyes pushing you to keep going.

“Someone I knew from home.  I’m not from there, you know that.  I think its strange they would be so close.  I don’t know why they were there.  I don’t look the same as I did then.  I’m not sure how they would know how to find me at all.  It just kind of… made me feel weird.  Thats’s all.” You looked at the floor, almost embarrassed to even talk about it.

“Are they dangerous?”  His voice was way more sincere than usual.

“No. I’m just unsure of how they find me and that worries me. As far as I know, I’m dead to everyone in my past.  I want to keep it that way.”

“I suppose it’s mine turn now isn’t it?” He said looking down at the floor, taking note that you didn’t want to speak anymore.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, its fine. I’m not expecting anything.  You were right anyways, I should tell you about things that may involve both of us like that.”

“This involves both of us too.” He insisted, brows furrowed as he spoke.

“I’m just here because you brought me, don’t mistake that for anything else, or more.”

He looked hurt, as if he expected a different answer, or no answer at all. Either one would’ve been better to him.

“I need to say it. I want this to be fair.” He began, his voice fast and unsure.  “She put off telling me. I don’t even want to hear her reason why.  I’m angry about it, it was selfish. He was the only person I could really trust to be a real person with me and not hide.  He wasn’t about his wealth, he was a good person.  He raised my mother to be a good person too, theres things I like about her believe it or not.  I know  its those parts she got from him.  A sharp, bright mind.  This is something I can’t figure out, its something I want to mess with and get an answer to the most, but I can’t.   For the first time, I’m going to lose. I need to know the answer to this. I can’t go on not knowing. I feel something I can’t explain.”

The room was silent except for the crackling of the fire across from you still.  You held your place by the door as if your legs had forgotten how to move, or maybe the air in here was too thick they couldn’t move, it felt suffocating, like you could barely get any of it into your lungs.  Something was changing, the air, the feeling, the atmosphere as a whole.  It was a different world alone with him now, you knew it but didn’t want to accept that things were going to change, he was going to change, and there was no going back now.  You both had shared more in the last ten minutes than you had almost the whole year you’ve known each other.

“Can you stay?”  He broke the silence with a question you never thought you would hear, followed by him rising from the bed to walk towards you, shirt half buttoned and half untucked, the sight that many girls probably would wish for.

“In here? You know I can’t.”

His acceptance of what he already knew was in the form of him wrapping his arms around you and holding you tightly against his own body.  It was strange, it never happened in private, only in public when he felt he needed to make it more apparent you are together.  He had very specific and calculated reasons for all affection he gave you, even if something inside him had wanted more of you, he probably would never allow it.

So that left you being unsure of what to do with you own arms, frozen in place and unable to reciprocate the same type of affection.  As much as you knew he probably needed it, the attention, the affection, any small gesture that would let him know that it was okay he was sad and confused.  But that just wasn’t part of this.

Placing his head against yours and burying his face into your neck, trying to mesh his body with yours was a step too far. It felt as if it was definite proof that he wanted something more, or needed something more, and it was unlike him.  Completely and utterly unlike him.  He never quite needed anything. Not to say he had never wanted more from you, you both had a very subtle intimacy but it wasn’t private and it was by no means yours.  For it all to belong to you both would a massive change, and seemed more than frightening to you.  It wasn’t anything you had even really thought about before, but has he?

His body seemed to move without his permission at all, pulling away and releasing you slightly but just moving only so you were face to face, only a couple inches separating you.  A type of look was there, in his tired and reddened eyes, it made the whole room feel like a different world, like you were in another universe where he wasn’t just a friend or a partner but someone who depended on you for anything and everything and needed you when things got rough, someone who wanted to hug you, someone who didn’t just look like they wanted to kiss you, but actually sealed the deal.

It felt like hours the way he looked at you, immense tension between both of you.  It seemed never ending, it seemed torturous, it was all just confusing and thick.  You hated looking shaken, as if he didn’t hug you but instead murdered someone in cold blood right in front of your eyes. Your look must’ve been enough, because he let you go and whispered a very silent and broken ‘Goodnight’, allowing you to leave and go to bed yourself.

When you reached your bedroom and changed into your nightgown in a daze, you still felt as if you were in a completely other place, as if everything was just one big confusing dream with no dialogue and no context, nothing to pull clues from.  It was a rollercoaster of every emotion, every move, every sound, they all somehow blended together yet stood out completely all at the same time.

You just wanted to lay down and sleep and wake up to everything being the same, back to the way it was before.

You could hear, despite the fact you were completely out of it all.  Your body was so tired you couldn’t be bothered one bit with rolling over and facing the door to your bedroom in Hoseok’s house, the day had felt like a whole week happening at once and you desperately wanted to escape it for anytime at all.  Hoseok could break the rules of his own household all he wanted, of society if he wanted, but you wouldn’t.  The air in here only faltered slightly and you knew he was here, settling onto the small sofa in the room.

Your mind was clouded with fatigue, too tired, too unwilling to think it through, to determine why exactly he was seeking this type of companionship from you.

You awoke in the morning with the faint idea of something that had happened, but with yesterday’s blur of events and the deep sleep you were in over the night it was hard to decipher what had happened and what was a dream.  All you could think was that Hoseok came in your room, but that could’ve happened at any point of the night or early morning, and from looking around the room with sleepy eyes you concluded that he wasn’t here now at all.

Either he never came in and it really was a dream, or he had sought your company after turning him down and came in your room on his own, and left sometime before you woke.  Knowing both of you, it would have to be a dream, never would he bother you like that, never has he truly needed your company for personal and emotional reasons.  However, from the recent events that took place and the fact that he had asked you to stay with him despite that being against a part of your nonexistent but well thought out friend-relationship contract, he may have came in and left.

You dragged yourself out of bed, all but willingly, and made your way to the bathroom to wash your face and try to do something about your hair before getting dressed in a casual yet appropriate dress for whatever events will take place today.

Your mind wasn’t in any place in particular, you felt as if you had lost a weeks worth of sleep and was only able to make up for an hour of it.  Maybe facing Hoseok’s lively family would wake you up a bit and force you to be on top of your game, force you to be a brighter and more sophisticated self than how you were really feeling today.

When you reached the small dining area by following George, you were almost alarmed to notice Hoseok’s slender fingers hooked into the small handle of a teacup, his dark brown eyes looking up at you in the archway as he took a sip.  His demeanor was changed completely.  It was almost strange to see him today, after the strangely intimate encounters you had had the night before where you tried to keep your distance but he kept stepping over each and every barrier in his way to get to you, to reach out to you.  Today was almost the polar opposite, he was back to his normal self, and he gave you no attention other than the look when you came in.

You took your seat on a sofa next to the chair he was in, and George poured you a cup of tea.  Hoseok’s mother also welcomed you but you barely registered any of it, you were too tired, too confused.  It was too hard for you to seek for answers to this other than to confront him but unless he was going to retreat back into yesterday’s mood, it seemed impossible.  Yesterday’s Hoseok was that person you could ask questions to that involved relationships and emotions, not today’s.

It seemed easy for him to move on and to forget, and although your thoughts were cloudy and unwilling, you could still see various things that stood out from the previous day in your mind.  Watching Hoseok’s fingers pick up a croissant your mind flashed back to yesterday, his hands tangling in the back of your hair as he pushed you against the door.  His lips as they closed around the bread as he took a bite, and your mind to when his face as right in front of yours, desperate to place his lips on yours in seek of a more safe and loving feeling.  His tone of voice when he answered his mother’s requests, and thinking back to when he was voicing his concerns to you.  He seemed normal, but nothing between you could return to that now.

Everything has changed now.

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