#which is then used in further ad planning. it is NOT all smoke and mirrors

[elftwink]

to preface this post i am anti-advertising i think we should explode the entire industry but it's sooo funny when you people make posts like "and they don't even work!!" like. sorry to be the bearer of bad news but yes they do. that's why we have to put up with so many despite everyone hating them and thinking its annoying. because they actually work really well and make a shit load of money

#it actually would be way better if they didnt work and made no money bc businesses would abandon them #this isnt like stocks where everythings abstract and is essentially gambling (i dont understand stocks) #like ppl in the ad industry create things. that make a tangible and quantifiable impact on the business #which is then used in further ad planning. it is NOT all smoke and mirrors #like its fake in that the industry is not providing a necessary service the way like. grocery stores are #but its not the level of fake where everything is abstract like theres deliverables #moreover there is an extensive body of academic work specifically on how to make ads more effective #ALSO i think some of u views ads like. as if they have a win condition. which is you buy product #but in current advertising this is pretty rare and comparatively ineffective #which is why you see MANY ads which dont seem to be selling anything in particular. or which have nothing all to do with the product #the 'win' condition for THAT kind of ad is something more like 'viewers remember our name' #like. ex i would say ads for temu have not been effective on me bc i havent bought anything from them #but temu probably thinks they were SUPER effective on me because i talked abt them like 5 different times at work #and i do in fact know exactly what the company does and what they sell #and they were able to capitalize on the reputations of existing companies (wish shein etc) to build their own brand #good idea generator

[referrix]

I'm currently working on trying to find locations for some of the known rooms and things inside Alfea, (at the moment specifically, I'm working on the kitchen and dining hall) before I put myself through floor plans again. So I thought I'd share what some of my working out looks like behind the scenes.

And why it might be a problem that Season 8 turned these flat topped towers:

Into these much shorter flat topped towers:

Because I'm currently fairly certain that was the dining hall in that upper half.

Trying to figure out where the dining hall is, isn't a one room tracking operation, because we know there's a kitchen, we've seen it, we've seen the Winx Club set fire to it with their negligence. You don't typically put a food making place far from the eating place, so tracking one, should help track the other.

We first see the kitchen in episode 105, when the girls are on dinner duty (or making a spell with potato peels and a magical back-flip if you're a 4kids truther), and during dinner prep they head back to their dorm to help Stella pick an outfit.

From their dorm, they're able to smell the smoke and react, racing to the kitchen before even the chef and Griselda arrive, though not by much in Griselda's case. (Also, Bloom uses the same spell Griselda does a few episodes later back on Earth in her house while cooking with Vanessa. Just saying.)

This means, or at least suggests that the kitchens are not only in the same building as their dorm, but reasonably close by.

When we return to the kitchen in episode 115 we actually have a little zoom around the rear tower and focus in on a spot above/behind the rear most dorm balcony on the building before phasing inside to the girls walking along a hall to the kitchen.

While the hallway is different between the two episodes, background continuity is not Winx Club's feature, but it does double down on the idea that the kitchen is in that building.

(In 105 the girls turn a corner into a short hallway, while in 115 it appears to be a long straight hallway with windows all along it. Though later in the episode the looking out view does look kindamuch the same as 105?)

(props to Alfea for having non-magical fire extinguishers for added safety)

Or at least one of the kitchens is in that building, I wouldn't be surprised to find out there are two. Or at least a smaller communal kitchen for the other mirrored building, so the girls don't have to go across campus for a midnight snack.

Further, although the exterior and interiors of the school don't always match up exactly, in several shots of the dining hall, we can see the six bays of tall windows. Now there is a chance they could just be windows from the middle floor, one of the balconied window sets, but the shape and compactness matches much more closely with the tower's rear facing window wall, the one that leads out onto the flat balcony.

The number of windows/bay divisions don't match up perfectly, but again, internal-external logic consistency isn't 100% at Alfea,

Additionally, in these shots from season two, we can see some smaller windows lining the upper sections of the wall opposite the window wall, which match up loosely with the windows on the rear towers, where they meet the roof of the dorm section.

We should also talk about sizes and room dimensions.

Based on the door below the smaller windows, the windows are at least three maybe four meters off the floor. The tables run about 5 meters.

Estimating for girls behind pillars, the most packed side holds 16 students, while the least packed has space for 13.

A quick bit of research into bench tables brought me some numbers.

The longest commercial tables I could find that came with suggested sizing by seat number suggested that for a 10 person table (4 on each long and 1 per end cap, so realistically for out count and 8 person table) would range between 2.2m, 2.6m, or 2.8m depending on how comfy or squished the seating is expected to be. Doubling those numbers to get tables to seat 16 max per side, we end up with tables ranging 4.4m, 5.2m, and 5.6m.

Doing a quick eyeball and stamp measurement, and given that the room isn't perfectly circular, but there is at least one (suspiciously straight) hallway outside it, I'd be okay saying that we're looking at a space with a rough diameter between 9 and 15 meters.

Finally, there's the thing that might be a door opposite the teachers' dais, which I think might match up with the external door on the tower that leads up a protruding staircase to a spiral staircase that leads to the observation platform on the top of the tower.

Or at least an elevator or internal spiral staircase up to the external door, or even a door across a corridor to the external door, depending on how big the overall dining hall really is in relation to the tower it's sitting in.

Why don't I think it leads to the kitchens?

Well, let's look at the kitchen: it looks roughly square, or at least not a whole lot longer one way than the other, so we're looking at a squarer sort of rectangle at most, and with that we can do a few quick calculations based on what's in the kitchen.

First, my research tells me that in a commercial kitchen, like for a restaurant, recommended kitchen size is .5m² per seat. The count of the students at the table (estimated 16+14+14+13=57 plus three teachers) give us around 60 seats, which makes our estimated kitchen around 30m².

(That's a fridge in the left corner as far as I can tell, though I did for a short time assume it was stairs. Gosh darn pattern on the door, fooling me.)

Further, commercial fridges, double ovens and cupboards give me widths of 610cm for a fridge, 60.96-68.58-76.2cm for double ovens, and 1200cm for a cupboard. recommended ventilation distance between ovens is a suggested minimum of 15.24cm, and there are four ovens along one wall with the fridge and the free standing cupboard. Using the largest width for ovens, we're looking at a room of at least 5.62m across.

It's important I note here, that the room isn't actually square, while the main body of it looks that way, there's also a little alcove attached along that wall.

Now there is a bit more space between the ovens than is recommended, enough for Musa to hide between them comfortably, but this gives us a starting base.

Even if the dining hall is 15ms across on the outside, that's still enough room to fit the kitchen in the tower given some of my other calculations which have the width of the mirrored buildings at 24-30m across, which should translate to the width of the flat topped towers.

But again, there's that zoom in, and the fact the girls come in from the side and turn left into the kitchen. I think we're looking at a kitchen position that's a little something like this:

Although I am hoping that despite the lack of any doors in the alcove, there's actually a walk in fridge/freezer behind the back wall, because there's plenty of cooking spaces, but there doesn't seem to be much in the way of food storage outside the free standing fridge in the corner, the pantry by the alcove, and the alcove.

Maybe there's more in the various short cupboards, but at least a portion of those would be for cooking utensils, crockery, cutlery, and I don't see any that are different enough to indicate cold storage vs long-life/shelf.

#winx #winx club #alfea #alfea mapping project #alfea dining hall #alfea kitchen #guesstimate measurements #season 1 reference screenshots #season 2 reference screenshots

[autisdicksimmons]

I could literally talk about all of Simmons’s body issues for hours (no I’m not projecting ahaha) but yes he’s trans and struggles with disordered eating and he’s trans and he’s autistic and all combined those things give him a super hard time enjoying functioning as himself especially in body-related ways (these thoughts are gonna be disjointed deal w it sorry dude)

But like, the way that he gets after Grif when it comes to food, and drinking, and smoking, and everything else? Yet despite this, we know that he has quite the self-destructive streak (crying and punching mirrors) which makes him a huge hypocrite— so why get after Grif like that? One could say that it’s because he has his body parts, but that can’t be all true because he’s still getting mad at Grif before the surgery, so it’s just things that he finds inherently undesirable traits— traits that have anything to do with a lack of self control, which Simmons believes himself to have. Not to mention the fact that he doesn’t seem surprised at all when Sarge uses withholding rations as a punishment— so either A. Sarge does that a lot, which could be true though we never see him do it after season 1 B. He’s accustomed to this as a punishment.

I think B is most plausible, given Simmons’s general demeanor and upbringing. He gets mad at Grif for not doing anything to earn food, then “overindulging” anyway, where Simmons views food as just that: something to be earned. Likely he was sent to bed without supper as a punishment as a kid, or forced himself to study through meals or similar behaviors at the very least. In my own mind it goes further than that, but his relationship with food is definitely complicated (especially with his mentioning going vegan after having to eat a dog at a previous outpost??? Holy shit that’s a trauma). Especially being trans (bc he is) even though he speaks far more positively about his mother than his father, the way that body issues get passed down from mothers to their afab children? Even if it wasn’t an intentional thing on his mothers part, those things are too easy to pick up

More on the having to eat the dog thing too, that history of food insecurity/starvation, plus being generally food anxious, is definitely something that lends itself to rationing and portioning and keeping their stock organized… which he does. And then consistently gets mad at Grif for eating more than his planning has allowed for. What’s one of the first things we learn he’s been doing in season 11? Growing fucking cabbage. Which, for one, how, but also the fact that he’s the only one of them to do something like that says a lot about who he is. Stupid, anxious about food, and resigned to the fact that no one is coming to get them (or at least planning for that scenario).

Not to mention, trans people are WAY more likely to develop ED’s than cis people, and I don’t even need to go into all of the reasons I think he’s trans bc I feel like that’s a separate post and I’m sure someone else has already summarized it better— but anyway, picturing a young Simmons, struggling to fit in and be good enough for his parents and not hate himself entirely and have control over something? Yeahhh OOF plus, I’m also not explaining why I think he’s autistic rn, but adding autism to the mix? Having difficulty with certain foods and textures makes it hard to want to eat to begin with, and with the kinds of pressure he seems to have faced as a child to be strong and tough and athletic and generally not his nerdy self, having sensory problems probably made it just that much harder, making him hate the way his body responds to things other people, “normal people,” can handle fine, returning him to that cycle of self-hatred, and that’s just within himself ignoring all of the bullying we know that he’s faced. It’s no wonder the dude showers in his underwear still, like, bro’s self conscious and anxious and probably just generally does not like his body.

Also his ass is literally a fax machine. That’s gotta do a toll on the psyche

#dick simmons #rvb #red vs blue #animal death #trans dick Simmons #autistic dick Simmons #long post #food #tw ed descussion

[dontcare77ghj]

Inked

Natasha x reader x Wanda

"You know those cause cancer, right?" Mal asked, entering your office. "And you're gonna stink out your office."

"The window's open." You shrugged, exhaling slowly and sending the smoke out the open window. "And you and I both know, cancer isn't something I'm scared of."

"Yeah, yeah, death licks your boots." Mal rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of blue hair out of her eyes. "Anyway, I'm going on break, Blaine's with a customer, and we've got a walk-in."

"I'll handle it." You promised, putting out your cigarette. "You going to pick up Erin?" You asked the younger girl.

"Yeah, I'm gonna drop her off with a neighbor. May offered and wouldn't let me refuse." She told you.

"Well, here. Get Erin something sweet for me." You said, shoving a twenty into her hands.

"Y/N, I can't." Mal started, trying to give you the money back.

"I insist." You cut her off. "I want to be her favorite aunt." You shrugged, forcing her to curl her fingers around the money. "Go, get your kid, and give her a hug for me."

"Will do, boss." She nodded before leaving.

"Hi, welcome to SkinPolish. How can I help you?" You asked, entering the main room to see the back of a man. He was looking over the walls of the store but turned at your entrance.

"Just so you know, I'm not here to get stabbed a thousand times," Clint told you with a grin.

"I think your day job provides you with enough of that." You joked, wrapping your arms around him. Clint chuckled as he returned your hug, pulling you close. "It's been too long, geezer."

"I know, you've got at least four more tattoos since the last time I saw you, you hoodlum." Clint teased you.

"It's been two years, Clint. Some of us had to change our identities." You reminded him, pulling back. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help." He told you.

"Blaine, watch the shop." You said without taking your eyes off the man before you.

"You got it, Y/N!"

"Follow me." You told Clint. You led Clint out of the front of the store and into your office. "Clint, I left when SHIELD fell. I handed in my clearance and took off." You said, lighting another cigarette. "I'm not doing any more work for them."

"Don't be like that." Clint groaned, sitting on your desk. 

"First off, get the fuck off my desk. Where are the manners Laura shoved down your throat? And secondly, I can't come back. Fucking HYDRA was running SHIELD for years, and none of us knew. All our information was in their hands. Who knows what they took? I have people I care about, Clint. I can't risk anyone's lives." You told him.

"I'm not asking you to do anything for SHIELD. I'm asking you to help the Avengers." Clint explained.

"Even better, a more public job." You scoffed. "Clint, we're friends. We've been through a lot. I get why you're here, but why the fuck would I risk the people I care about for another mission?"

"Argentina." He said simply.

"That is a dick move, and you know it." You groaned, finishing your smoke.  

"I do know it, but I have to use it. We need your help." Clint said, rising from your desk to stand in front of you. "We need your help, kid. I wouldn't be asking if I had another choice." 

"Fine." You relented after a minute. "When do you need me?"

"Tomorrow," Clint told you. "I'll pick you up." He added before going to leave.

"You don't know where I live." You protested.

"Yeah, I do." Clint corrected you. "I'll see you at nine." He said, and with that, he was gone.

"Fuck me." You sighed, rubbing your hand across your face.

"Remind me why I agreed to this again?" You asked, watching as the Avengers Compound grew closer through the window.

"Because you love me," Clint responded cheekily.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." You rolled your eyes. "You never even told me what I'm needed for."

"Briefing's in half-hour," Clint told you. "Which gives you enough time to get acquainted with everyone." He added as the car slowed to a stop.

"You know how I feel about crowds of people." 

"It's not a crowd. It's the team and Maria. You're fine, kid, I promise." He said.

"Fine, let's get this over with." You sighed, unclicking your belt.

"Avengers!" Clint called as the two of you moved further into the maze of a building. "I have a surprise for you all!" 

"Is it a unicorn?" A male voice asked as you both entered what looked to be a meeting room.

"Even better. Gentlemen, and Wanda,"

"Smooth Barton." A redhead coughed.

"This is Y/N L/N." Clint continued his introduction. "A specialist in all fields, especially disguise, and the only reason we might do our job today."

"Oh, so I'm doing your work for you again, Barton? Nothing's changed, I see." You commented. 

"Hey! That's not true! Name one time that's ever been true!"

"I can list fifty off the top of my head." You said, raising a brow at him.

"I can add sixty-seven to your list." The redhead piped in. "Natasha Romanoff." She introduced herself.

"Pleasure Agent Romanoff." You smiled. "C'mon Barton, formal introductions, please."

"Yeah, Barton. Introduce us." 

"Y/N, this is Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Wanda." Clint gestured. "Are you all satisfied?"

"Not particularly, since you still haven't told me what you need my help for." You said, crossing your arms.

"You haven't even told her that. Jesus Barton." Wanda snorted.

"I was getting to that. I was waiting for you all to meet." Clint whined. 

"Well, we're met." You said, taking an empty seat beside Natasha. "C'mon, what am I doing here?"

"There's a gala tonight," Natasha said, handing you a file. "A man named Jayden Reeds is going to be in attendance. Reeds has stock in several large companies, but that's just a front. Reeds actually has ties to HYDRA and deals in human trafficking. From what we've gathered, Reeds kidnaps people who will seemingly not be missed. They're then delivered to HYDRA bases around the world and never heard from again."

"Am I here to kill him? Because I can get behind that." You said, shaking your head.

"Wait till you hear the rest," Clint told you.

"There is a possibility Reeds also has his own collection. He's been spotted with several women who have all disappeared shortly after."

"What's the connection between them?" You asked.

"They're all French brunettes."

"So let me guess, my job is to go undercover tonight and see if he takes the bait. And when he does, I bring him in."

"Bingo Boingo," Tony told you.

"Well, I guess I better find a long sleeve dress. Oh, and maybe a wig."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I would have assumed your accent was real myself," Wanda commented later that night.

The mission had gone as smoothly as could be. Reeds had fallen for your act believing you to be a young French brunette on vacation in America's busiest city.

You hadn't even needed to corner him as he'd followed you into a woman's bathroom with two other men. 

You hadn't given any of them a chance to move or say anything before you had them unconscious on the ground.

Now you were heading home, still decked out in your gala gown, with Natasha, Wanda, Clint, and Tony.

"It's not that good. No matter how much I practice, even my Italian's better than my French." You shrugged.

"Not that good?" Tony snorted, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. "Sweetheart, if I weren't engaged and I met you in Paris, I'd take you back to Hotel Plaza Athenee and show you a time."

"Cute, Starky boy, but you're not my type."

"I'm everyone's type."

"Sorry, hon, but I like women." You told him. "This is my stop." You added as Tony pulled over.

"You live here?" Natasha asked, looking around the neighborhood in distaste. You could understand her aversion to the area. Any one of your neighbors would move in an instant if given the choice.

"Yep." You said, unclicking your belt. "Been here since SHIELD crashed."

"Did SHIELD pay this bad?" Tony questioned you.

"SHIELD pay wasn't great, but it was something. I saved most of it, but a lot of it went to making sure Y/N Smith, the tattoo artist from the wrong side, wasn't connected with Y/N L/N, SHIELD agent." You shrugged. "Didn't see a point in moving after." You added. "This was fun. We should do it again sometime." You said, sliding out and holding the door open.

"We'll give you a call if we need someone to do all the work for us." Clint nodded.

"Great. Come by the shop if you ever want a free tattoo. Clint knows where it is." 

A part of you was sure you wouldn't see any of the team again. They led much more busy lives than you did, and their schedules were forever changing.

So imagine your surprise when Natasha and Wanda entered your shop the next day just to simply chat. And they continued to do so for a week. Sometimes Clint would come, Steve had popped in for a few minutes while on a run, but Natasha and Wanda visited every day. 

On the seventh day, the two came in at one in the afternoon with Tony.

"Hey, Tony. I didn't know you were coming to lunch with us." You said, continuing to lock up the shop. "I'll be ready in a couple minutes."

"Great, but there's been a slight change of plans," Natasha said, watching you closely.

"As long as foods still involved, I won't be too bothered." You shrugged.

"Food is involved. It's just going to take us a while to get to it." Tony cryptically informed you.

"Guys, I'm running on twenty minutes of sleep and caffeine. Please, no cryptics." You sighed, narrowing your eyes at the three.

"Relax, we're not trying to hurt your head." Tony chuckled. "We have something to tell you."

"But first, step this way, away from any possibly hidden weapons," Natasha said, gesturing you forward. "No-one should get a knife to the head because they shocked you."

"Haha." You rolled your eyes, walking forward. "For the record, I did that once. And Clint caught it." You added. "What did you three do?"

"Technically, Tony did it," Wanda said, pointing a thumb at the billionaire.

"Real smooth, Sabrina." Tony scoffed. "Alright, yes, I did this, but I did it out of pure kindness."

"Did what?" 

"I've had all your stuff moved out of your apartment. I've had it moved into a spare room in the Compound," Tony announced. 

"Put it back, Tony." You demanded, crossing your arms. "My things aren't yours to touch."

"You live in a shitty neighborhood." Tony defended himself. "You have eight security systems of your own just to keep yourself safe. You won't find a new place of your own volition, so I found one for you."

"Tony, you moved my things into the Avengers Compound." You sighed. "I'm not an Avenger."

"Yet." Tony cut you off. "You are more than qualified to join the team. The way you helped us the other night, the way you took those men out and got the information quicker than we would have done. You can be an Avenger."

"I'm not risking those closest to me." You shook your head. "I gave up Y/N L/N when I left SHIELD. I have people in my life now, civilian people, who could get hurt because of me."

"Than don't let them," Natasha said. "I've been through your records, know how many people you helped and protected. Protect those you love just as you did all the strangers. You can still lead this life as well as one where you can protect people again."

"At least try temporarily," Wanda suggested. "Give it a month trial period and see if you can remember what it feels like. If it doesn't work out, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. And if it does work, you can join our team. Please." She added, giving you puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. A trial period." You sighed, pushing your hair back. "But no more using those eyes. It's evil, and you know it." You said, pointing at the witch.

"Yes, she does." Natasha smiled, putting her arm around her girlfriend's waist. "C'mon, there's a car waiting to take us back to the Compound."

"Where Tony ordered lunch," Wanda added, putting her hand out to you to take.

"At least he did one thing right." You joked, taking her petite hand.

"Hey!"

You had been staying at the Compound for almost a month. There were four days before the end of your trial period, but you hadn't made your decision yet. 

There was still a part of you that thought it would no longer be safe for the civilians in your life if you joined the team. If you entered the Avengers, you might have to give up this identity and everything and everyone that came with it.

But there was something about being around the team that ignited a spark within you. A spark you long thought had burned out. You longed for adventure, for that adrenaline rush that came with being undercover and the pride you felt at helping someone. 

You were torn between two worlds. Torn between two personalities.

"Jesus Christ, you smell like an ashtray," Natasha complained as she suddenly appeared by your side. You snapped out of your daze just in time to see Natasha take the smoke out of your hand and take a drag for herself.

"Didn't know you smoked." You commented, watching her exhale the smoke slowly.

"I don't. Not anymore." Natasha shook her head. "Just couldn't resist."

"Don't expect me to kiss you until you brush your teeth," Wanda said, skipping into the room and crossing her arms as she stared at the two of you. "I want a tattoo." She announced, staring you dead in the eye.

"Okay. Do you want me to find a parlor for you in the morning? I have a couple friends who owe me a favor or two." You suggested.

"No, I want you to do it," Wanda told you firmly. "As soon as possible if you would." 

"And you're sure about this?" You asked, raising a brow. "You're sure you want a tattoo and that you want me to do it?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Alright, then. Follow me." You said, leading the two back into the Compound and into your room.

"You have a gun and inks in your room?" Natasha asked, looking your makeshift parlor over.

"Yep. Set it up the night I arrived, gave myself this the next." You said, lifting your shirt to reveal the healing tattoo on your hip.

"Geez, you know most people drink a bottle of scotch to welcome themselves to a new place? Not give themselves a tattoo." Natasha informed you.

"Probably." You nodded, beginning to set up your station. "Okay, Wanda, what did you have in mind?"

"I want the words, 'Ty namnogo bol'she' to wrap around my wrist," Wanda said, tracing around her thin wrist with her finger.

"Alright, I can definitely do that. But you might have to write it down for me. My Russian's not that great." You informed her.

"We'll have to work on that," Natasha said as Wanda began to write it down.

"Alright." You began after Wanda handed you the spelling. "Let's get started."

"I love it." Wanda smiled, watching as you gently wrapped her wrist. "It's perfect." 

"I like to do my best." You grinned, putting the last of the tape down. "Make sure that stays moist. And do not scratch it under any circumstances." You instructed her as you began to shove your equipment away in plastic tubs.

"You need a better system," Natasha commented. "Yours is kind of a mess."

"I'll update my system when I change this room around." You said, looking around the nearly bare room. Everything you owned was in plastic tubs or bags. You hadn't been bothered to unpack yet.

"Does that mean you're planning on staying?" Natasha asked. "Have you made your decision yet? To join the team or not?"

"Not yet. I'm still trying to decide." You sighed, leaning against the wall. "I like not giving a shit. I like waking up in the morning and paying too much for a shitty cup of coffee. I like going to work and being around people who've never had to see the shit we have. I like not having to feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but I miss it. 

I miss being a part of a team. I liked saving people. I enjoyed going on missions, creating new personas to get what I needed done. I miss being around people who've seen the shit I have. Who know what the weight of the world feels like. 

Now I don't where to go. What I need more in my life." You told them.

"We told you, you don't need to pick one world," Wanda said, standing from her stool. "You can still save people and drink over-priced coffee. You can still be with people who share your trauma and be with those who don't. You don't have to pick one world."

"Can we help your decision along by us asking you out to dinner?" Natasha asked, breaking your pensive silence.

"Excuse me?" You asked, for once being taken aback by another person. "I think I went temporarily deaf there. Can you repeat yourself?"

"Let us take you on a date," Natasha repeated slowly. "We were thinking about dinner and wine and then a night at the opera." She said, causing your nose to scrunch up without thought.

"She's kidding." Wanda giggled. "Actually, we were thinking we get a couple beers, order a pizza, and watch a movie in our room."

"Can I pick the movie?" You asked her.

"With your crappy taste, no." Wanda shook her head.

"Okay, now she's kidding," Natasha said, taking three steps forward to stand beside her girlfriend. "Of course, you can pick the movie."

"And this wouldn't hurt your relationship?" You asked tentatively. "I wouldn't ruin what you already have?"

"You could only add." Wanda smiled.

"So, what do you say? You wanna go on a date with us?" Natasha questioned you.

"I'd love to."

"Go away.” You groaned, rolling away and under the covers into Natasha’s body.

“Wakey, wakey. Up and at ‘em you two.” Wanda ordered, pulling the blankets off the pair of you. 

“Wanda!” 

“Both of you will forgive me when I tell you I have coffee.” Wanda rolled her eyes, sitting on the bed beside you.

“The overpriced kind?”

“What other kind is there?” Wanda asked. “C’mon sit up or no coffee for either of you.”

“Alright, alright, we’re up.” Natasha said, sitting up with you on her chest. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

“I love you.” You groaned after taking the first sip of your steaming beverage.

“Are you talking to me or the coffee?” 

“Can’t it be both?” You shrugged before grabbing her hand and kissing her palm softly.

“As long as there’s love for me too, it can.” Natasha told you.

“I love you too, Nat.” You promised, kissing her collarbone.

“After today’s meeting, I want you to give me a tattoo.” Natasha announced. “I don’t care where is is, but I want ‘YA zasluzhivayu lyubvi’.” She told you. 

“Alright then. I like this plan.” You smiled, looking up at your girlfriend. “You know I think I’m due for some new ink myself.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can choose for me.” You shrugged. “I trust you both, always.”

Once, you left SHIELD and it’s lifestyle behind. And then one day Clint Barton walked into your shop and brought you back into it. 

He brought you back to the life you missed and brought you to Natasha and Wanda.

Remember all Taglists are open as are requests. 

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr @buckybarton03 @sunshinepower17 @bindythedemon @natasharomanoffismywife @keenmarvellover @bbybarness @storiesbystarlight @buckybarnesplumwhore @bromieeeomieee @marvelmenarebeautiful @niki-is-a-thing @pauloonig @abyssiniapleasant @beautybyfire @officalmarvelbaby

Natasha Romanoff Taglist

@natasha-danvers @5aftermidnight @ohfuckno

All women Taglist

@imnotasuperhero

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader

[lunannex]

Allison Hargreeves Fic Rec List

I love Allison dearly so I figured I'd share some of my favorite Allison-centric fics to spread a little more love for her!

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

Seven Pounds Eight Ounces Healthy Beautiful Perfect by sunriseseance

Allison wanders more, not ready for the sleep to end, and takes in the breadth of nothing in which she’s draped her house. The fad of void that reflects her heart completely, or else does not at all, and to such a frightening degree she can hardly think it. What if Claire hates it here? What if Claire hates it everywhere? What if Claire has powers and Allison was right, always right to not want kids? What if the nightmares are premonitions and Reginald comes into the dark empty house and rends the child from her breast and talks about finally having a useful seventh and there’s still milk on Claire’s little lip and Allison can’t do anything can’t even breathe and the worst part is that maybe Claire is better off because at least Reginald can do something other than ache.

-------

An exploration of Allison, trauma, and motherhood.

Happy In That Moment by sunriseseance

She did cry a little bit when she looked out at her family’s section and saw four empty seats instead of the planned three. She did add Ben’s rose, and then Five’s rose, to her bouquet to be pressed later. It was tradition, she heard, to place roses on the seats of deceased family. Save a place for them. She didn’t bother to look into what happened after. Should she have thrown the flowers away? Vanya’s chair sat empty, asking her if she had ever made a good choice in her life. She couldn’t answer.

Karma, Leave These Kids Alone by sunriseseance

Klaus is right, because he usually is. Their childhood was worth fearing. But it wasn’t all bad, she thinks, and some guilt pangs her. I wouldn’t wish this on us, but I’m glad I got him out of it. I’m glad Claire is safe.

She holds out her hand for him, and he takes it.

---

A meditation on Allison and her traumas, guilts, fears, and loves. Centered around her and Klaus, their love for one another, and how that changes her love and fear for Claire.

Smoke and Mirrors by stilitana

She’d find the right string of words someday, the magic words that would conjure the long-dead childhood pet rabbit back out of the hat, whole and healthy, and everyone would scream with joy when they saw that everything was saved, because she had seen that it was good and should be so.

-

A vignette-style exploration of some scenes from Allison's life, pre-season one.

ode to queen mab by GiuGiu

Raymond stares at her in horror as she tells the man “More, more, more, more, more.”

But she wants to burn this man. This awful bigoted monster. He burned her first, it’s only fair.

When Ray pulls her away she realizes she did it again.

She lost control.

A deeper look into Allison's power with some added elements.

Helpline by Gin_Juice

“What?” Diego’s flat voice greeted her.

“Oh, is that how we’re answering the phone now? Good morning to you, too.”

He grunted. “I’m heading out to work and I’m writing a note that you called as we speak. So unless you have something important to tell me, I’m hanging up.”

Wow, he was a regular ray of sunshine today, wasn’t he? Allison sat down sideways in one of the high stools at the kitchen island.

“Everything okay? Because I expect Five to threaten to hang up on me in the first ten seconds of a call, but you usually make it little further than this.”

Her own problems could wait a few minutes—God knew they weren’t going anywhere.

___________________________

It's hard, sometimes, being out in Los Angeles by herself, but Allison's siblings and all of their issues are only a phone call away.

Echoes by chiiyo86

On the night of November 15, 1963, Allison finds Five passed out in the back alley where she landed two years ago. Together they set out to try and find their siblings, but the task turns out to be more complicated than they imagined...

Terrible Waffles by neuronary

On their wedding night, Ray wraps his arms around her, presses his lips to her forehead, and turns off the lights with a yawn. Allison’s stomach twists, first in confusion, then further anxiety. She doesn’t know what’s going on and she doesn’t know who to ask and it scares her.

They don’t talk about it. Until they do.

---

Allison Hargreeves is asexual. She doesn't know there's a word for it, but that doesn't matter so much with Ray.

Fool's Gold by kneworder

What do you do when your sister destroys your world?

You rebuild. You get out the scotch tape and the lies and the dazzling smiles and you make yourself a new castle even bigger than before.

--

Allison, and the fallout of the bomb that was Vanya's book.

#hoping to find the time to re-read these soon so i can leave the authors some nice comments #it's what they deserve <3 #echoes is allison AND five centric btw! just thought y'all should know #i took a break from writing an allison fic of my own to compile these lol (and it took me forever but it was so worth it) #fic recs #allison hargreeves #tua #the umbrella academy #my queen #luna talks

[fangqueen]

#3 What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

Adding the link to the ask game at the start this time, 'cause this is gonna be a long one, y'all. 😂

Where do I even begin? First of all, @angie-leena​, thank you so SO much for sending me this ask! It was the kick in the ass I needed to get me to actually write this scene, and for that I’m extremely grateful. I still don’t know if I’m entirely happy with the finished product, but it exists now, and that’s something.

So some of you may remember (if anyone actually follows my ramblings, haha!) that I’ve been simultaneously complaining about and obsessing over this gigantic WIP I’ve had since fucking March 2019. Nearly two and a half years have passed since I put the first word to paper, and oh how I’ve loved to cry out in frustration about how I have about 12k written on the stupid thing and yet not a single scene finished.

AT LEAST

NOT UNTIL TODAY

YES, I’VE DONE IT. I’ve finished a scene on this amazing, wonderful, and incredibly stupid WIP, and I could just cry.

FYI for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (which I’m sure is everyone, ‘cause I don’t expect anybody to remember this insane thing I’ve been shouting about all this time, LOL): this is the Slytherin My Gryffindor WIP. Yes, that is a working title. 😅 I will find a better one.....some day.......Ron/Draco is the main pair, but there will also be plenty of others sprinkled in the background.

Anyway, about this ask and that context I haven’t been arsed to write yet...

Context required in order to understand this scene 😂:

Fred Lives AU

The Muggle world and the Wixen world has kind of mixed in recent years, and it’s very common for magical people to be using Muggle technology

The Weasley twins have opened a second shop in Diagon Alley...selling sex toys (yes, really)

Their first original product line issssssss..........dildoes shaped like the Weasley brothers’ own dicks (and a fleshlight kind of thing for Ginny)

Yes this is crack!fic (but, like, also not???)

Ron has been made general manager of the shop and is there all the time, as they’re incredibly busy

Draco wants 👏 that 👏 D 👏, but is worried about Ron finding out, so keeps coming into the shop randomly hoping he won’t be there (and of course he always is)

Eventually there’s a day where Ron’s in the backroom, Charlie’s visiting and helping out at the register, and when Ron emerges, Charlie informs him that Draco Malfoy has just run in and bought Ron’s dildo

Cue Ron being incredibly turned on by this notion

So that pretty much brings us up-to-speed for this scene - it’s been a few days now, and Ron’s been trying to figure out a way to contact Draco to talk to him about the whole thing, since they never became friends or anything after the war and don’t regularly talk unless they’re just seeing each other around

The fic is meant to touch on, like...fame in the aftermath of the war (i.e. why anyone would be interested in sex toys modelled after the Weasley siblings in the first place)

Ron has evolved from his teenage self and grown to hate the fame - it prevents him from being able to date, because the press can never let him keep anything private

After this scene, the fic will focus on Ron and Draco developing a sexual - and eventually romantic - relationship (originally under the guise of “testing out” other products from the shop together)

They will try their best to keep their relationship a secret, but, like...everyone knows 😘😘😘

Also Draco is a model in this one (not important for this scene, but just thought you might want to know 😂)

In addition, some warnings/content to make note of before reading:

NC-17 (smut incoming!)

Technology circa 2005

Phone sex

Semi-public sex

Sex toys

Both Ron and Draco are a little drunk (but very consenting!)

Crack taken way too seriously

Of course, this hasn't been betaed or Britpicked, so I apologize for how very rough it is right now, lol. It will likely be a little (or a lot!) different if I ever actually finish this whole fucking fic and post it later on. I am treating this scene like a “sneak peek” of the fic, because I definitely do still want to try to finish it someday...

HOLY SHIT, I had a LOT more to say about it than I thought. 😅 So anyway. Scene under the cut.

Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed. It took a bit of initiative, but Ron, Seamus, and Dean finally managed to snag them all a table in the back corner, hoarding the extra seats till Harry and Neville finally arrived, trailed closely by Ginny and Parkinson ― who were curiously short one blond wizard.

Ron tried not to think about it. He bought the first round with Harry, listening to him chat about the recent Puddlemere match against the Magpies. They ordered nibbles for the table. Ron munched on chips, his heart skipping every time the door opened across the room and another few patrons trickled in.

He was on his third pint of the evening when he started getting antsy. He sipped his Simison, using the light smoke curling around the rim of the glass to discreetly glance around the pub, hoping to spot a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Is he coming, then?"

Ron's head snapped to attention. Ginny checked the door as well before turning back to Parkinson.

"Who?" Neville asked, snagging a vinegar-soaked chip from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, craning her neck to see her girlfriend's screen.

Parkinson tapped away on her mobile, shaking her head. "No. Says he's already curled up with a bottle of wine and a good book, and doesn't fancy getting all done up."

Fucking hell. Ron drained the dregs at the bottom of his glass. It wasn't often Malfoy joined them on a mostly-Gryffindor outing ― not unless Parkinson could convince him. Somehow, Ron felt he should've known it wouldn't be in the cards tonight. Conversation pivoted again, and Ron ran his fingers up the sides of his empty pint, thinking.

At some point, Seamus and Harry set off to get another round, and Ginny hurried away with them after a quick peck to Parkinson's cheek. Neville and Dean had gotten into a chat about proper Mimbulus mimbletonia care, and Ron saw his chance. He could feel his heart start to thud in his chest as he cleared his throat, raising his voice to catch her attention.

"Parkinson?"

She turned back from watching Ginny leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes?"

"Think you could give me Malfoy's number?"

The smirk she gave him in response made his hands shake a little as they drummed against the tabletop.

"Whatever for?"

Ron stared her down, knowing full well any excuse he told her would never be enough. Parkinson's expression was predatory ― as if she already knew the answer anyway. He waited for her to comment, bracing himself.

To his surprise, she instead dug her mobile back out of her handbag.

She turned the screen towards him, and he typed the number directly into the dialer on his phone. He waited a few minutes until everyone ― Parkinson included ― had moved on to other things and forgotten about him, and then slipped from the table.

Ron shouldered his way through the crowd to the loo, pushing inside and locking the door behind him. It was a small room, hardly bigger than a broom closet. There was a toilet and a sink, a grimy mirror hanging above it, and a dim ceiling lamp that barely lit the space.

Ron backed up to one side of the room and slumped against the wall. He gripped the phone in clammy hands. Those pints had picked a perfect moment to hit him all at once. Ron blinked away the creeping dizziness, staring down at the numbers glowing dauntingly on the tiny screen. He'd been unable to get it out of his mind for days ― the image of Malfoy riding his dildo ― and now that he had a way to contact him, he was frozen. The leaky faucet dripped, the sound maddening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. This was stupid. This was so bloody stupid.

He hit call.

Ron held his breath, cupping the phone to his ear. The line rang and rang, until he started to realize he didn't have a plan B. What if Malfoy didn't answer? What if he had to leave a voicemail? What would he even say? He should've just texted him, damn it.

Then, suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was rustling and a mumbled, "Bloody useless thing." Then, louder, "Yes?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, this is ― Weasley?"

Malfoy sounded surprised. Ron breathed out gradually, his heartbeat slowing with it. Malfoy's voice was clear and present on the other end. No looking back. He tried to think of something to say, and only came up with one thing.

"Haven't seen you round the shop yet this week."

"Don't tell me that's really why you called." Malfoy sighed, trying to sound put-upon, but Ron could hear the hint of nerves underneath. "If you must know, that would be because I found what I'd been looking for."

"I know."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. For a moment, Ron thought Malfoy might hang up. But then he cursed quietly. "Damn that brother of yours. Incorrigible."

So it really was true. Charlie hadn't just been taking the piss. Ron felt a warmth flare up in his belly, spreading down to the tops of his thighs.

"Try growing up with him. And the twins? Now that's a real nightmare."

"I was trying for discreet, but you were always there."

Ron leaned further back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling above. He thought of all those times Malfoy had dropped in at the shop, only to hurry out again if Ron ever came too close. Malfoy had jumped at the chance when Ron had been called away to the back that day.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well. You know. So what, then? Looking to mock me for it?"

"You always assume the worst with me. Why is that?" Although Ron couldn't exactly blame him. He hadn't given Malfoy much else to go on in years past. Neither of them had. "No. No, I was calling because…" Why had he been calling? It had seemed such a natural thing when he'd asked Parkinson for Malfoy's number not five minutes ago. "I was curious. If there was, er." He waved his free hand, searching for the words. Nothing sounded right. "Any particular reason for it."

Malfoy laughed ― a short bark of a sound. "I mean, obviously yes. It's a sex toy, Weasley."

Ron snorted, taken aback. "That's not ―"

"Actually, I thought it'd make a nice statement in the middle of my dining table. It would be an excellent conversation piece for dinner parties."

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I didn't ―"

A chuckle rumbled through from the other end of the line. There was that snark again. Merlin, it made Ron hot, his skin blooming from his collar up to his ears. He chewed his lip, pulling back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

"I only meant ― was there a reason? That you'd picked mine?"

The line suddenly went quiet. Ron had to check his phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

When Malfoy finally replied, his voice was soft, uncertain. "What would possess you to call and ask me that?"

Ron breathed in slowly, his hand tapping an incoherent rhythm on his thigh. "Well, I'm a bit pissed, to be honest," he admitted, still feeling the slight burn the Simison had left in his throat.

Malfoy didn't say anything more at first. The lamp above buzzed as the faucet continued to drip. Ron could hear the noise from the pub pressing up against the other side of the door.

Then, Malfoy said, "Maybe there was."

Ron felt his heart jump into his throat. "Was what?"

"A reason why I bought it," Malfoy said slowly, deliberately. "Figure it out, Weasel."

Oh, bloody hell. Ron took a shaky breath. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.

"And...how was it?" Ron heard himself ask as if from very far away.

Even over the din of the music beyond the bathroom door, he could hear Malfoy swallow. "It was good."

"Oh, ta." Ron chuckled despite himself.

"No, I mean...Bugger." It was nice hearing Malfoy so flustered. A rare occurrence, and one that the little fluttering pixie in Ron's stomach very much wanted to repeat. "It was brilliant, alright? Happy?"

Brilliant. The word tingled down Ron's spine. For some reason, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Bloody hell, was this really happening? He thought of fleeting insults thrown in the school corridors all those years ago ― then he thought of a night just a few months ago, the look in Malfoy's eyes as Ron told him about the shop.

"You wrote a song about me once, if I remember correctly," Ron said, feeling deliriously happy.

"I suppose I did." Malfoy sighed.

Ron's eyes flicked to the door, to the noise of the crowd beyond. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"Oh, please, Weasley," Malfoy said bitterly. "Pick a reason."

"I know, but ―" Ron tried to argue, but Malfoy cut him off.

"You don't owe me anything. It would be incredibly unfair for me to expect you to be interested in return."

Ron supposed that was fair enough. He'd had similar feelings towards Malfoy until very recently.

"I would be, though. I mean ― I am."

Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Ron hadn't felt before. He let them roll off his tongue, flattened the tip of it along his lips as he thought about flashes of icy blond hair, high cheekbones, and long fingers swirling around the rim of a glass. He thought of the moment he'd finally realized Malfoy had been looking back.

"Oh." Malfoy paused, seeming surprised by that revelation. "Good to know."

Malfoy fidgeted. Ron listened intently, hearing the breath he released and the scrape of his fingers against his mobile.

"You wouldn't ― ah." Malfoy caught himself, and Ron waited for him to continue, his ears ringing. "Would you want to…?" Malfoy trailed off, finishing his thought with a scoff.

"Would I want to what ― oh."

Oh.

Ron swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Malfoy was asking him what he thought he was asking him, but even after everything, it was almost too good to be true. The long stretch of awkward silence on the other end told him he was right, though, and that made him jittery, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I could be reading too much into this," Malfoy muttered.

"No, no, definitely not. I mean." Ron licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. "I just don't want you to think I expect this."

Malfoy made a sound, and Ron could practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

"Oh, so you don't ring up every person who buys a model of your cock and ask them how they enjoyed it?"

"What? No, of course not!" Ron stopped, realizing, and laughed at himself. "You're joking. That was a joke."

"Terribly clever, this one."

A sudden jiggling of the door handle made Ron jump, almost dropping his mobile in the process.

"Occupied!"

He fumbled with the phone, his heart thudding wildly. When he put it back to his ear, Malfoy was laughing. The sound made Ron feel weak in the knees.

"Where are you?" Malfoy asked, still snickering.

"In the loo at the Dragon's Head."

"Oh, of course." Malfoy sucked his teeth contemplatively. "Hang on. Is there anyone in there with you?"

Another frustrated turn of the door handle.

"It's a single."

"Good." Malfoy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you want me to use it?"

Ron pressed his hand flat against the door, waiting until he heard the bloke give a huff and storm off. "Use what?"

"Your dildo, Weasley."

The silken drawl of Malfoy's voice spread like gooseflesh across Ron's skin. "Right now?" he asked incredulously, although he was already half hard at the thought.

"I could give you an exclusive product review. Unless you don't want to."

"No, I do!" Ron replied quickly, and Malfoy laughed again, making him blush.

"Eager, are we?"

"Yes." Ron passed a hand over his face, trying to laugh as well, but it came out shaky. Merlin, it had been all he could think about for the past few days. Still, he'd never imagined Malfoy would offer it outright. "Just didn't take you for the phone sex type."

Malfoy hummed. "You caught me in a randy mood. Now how do I ― ah, right."

Ron assumed he'd been put on speakerphone, as there was now an echo. He dug out his wand for a moment and cast a quick Silencio on the bathroom. It was a wonder how he had the brain power to spare, when all the blood in his body was suddenly rushing to his cock. He could hear Malfoy fumbling for something on the other end.

"Where are you?" Ron asked in return, trying to distract himself from the heady thrum of anticipation.

"In bed. Naked," Malfoy added with a hint of a smirk in his voice. Ron groaned, shutting his eyes against the image of Malfoy stretched out on soft sheets, hard and waiting for him. Merlin, had he been naked the whole time they were talking? Ron pressed the heel of his palm to the crotch of his jeans.

Malfoy went silent for a moment, until there was a faint intake of breath. His bed creaked distantly in the background.

Ron licked his lips, cupping his hand around the solid, hot line of his cock under his trousers. "Are you prepping yourself?"

"Of course." Malfoy breathed out steadily, the bed creaking again. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. Although I'd always wondered."

Fucking hell. Ron arched against his hand. Was he really going to get his cock out in a pub toilet? The last shred of his resolve melted away when he heard Malfoy moan, low and guttural, a sound that shot straight through Ron, all the way to his toes. He imagined Malfoy laying back, his knees bent up, and slick fingers down between his legs, pressing in and out of his puckered hole. Ron was switching the phone to his left hand before he could give it a second thought. He flicked open the button on his jeans and pushed his pants down to hook under his balls, taking himself in hand.

Ron rolled his hand down over his length. Malfoy's breath hitched, and he cursed, the bed shifting with him. Ron caught his lip between his teeth, wondering how many fingers he had in him. He imagined himself leaning over Malfoy on the bed, licking a hot stripe along his neck as his hand worked him open, his thighs falling open as he settled between them.

"Fuck, I needed this," Malfoy breathed. Ron moaned, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing over the weeping head of his cock.

Malfoy muttered a Cleansing charm, and then a drawer was pulled roughly open nearby. Ron heard Malfoy pick up the phone, moving and setting it down again as he bounced on the bed, adjusting himself.

"Are you ―?" Ron wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish the thought, left hand gripping the phone hard as he tried to steady himself.

"Yes, gods."

Ron paused, listening as Malfoy shifted and panted on the other end. He didn't have to ask when it was fully in. He knew the moment Malfoy's breath faltered, the gasp he gave sending shivers down Ron's spine.

Malfoy huffed, the sound so loud to Ron's ears as the whole world funneled down to a point, to this moment as he listened to Malfoy move the toy inside of himself. He moaned, and Ron thought he could hear the squelch of lube on the other end of the line as it entered him.

"Talk to me, Weasley."

Malfoy sounded wrecked. It was enough to make Ron's toes curl just to hear it. It was almost too much to handle ― the idea of Draco Malfoy being thoroughly fucked out by a dildo modelled after Ron's own cock. Ron's head thunked back against the wall. His hand trembled a little as he began stroking himself again.

"Get on your knees for me," he said softly.

Malfoy swore. Ron heard him flip over, his panting breaths suddenly closer to the receiver. In his mind, he could see Malfoy bent over the bed, arse in the air and cheek pressed against the mattress, lips rosy and parted. He imagined himself knelt behind Malfoy, hands gripping his slender hips.

"There's, uh." Ron swallowed. "There's a self-shagging feature. If you want. The spell's ―"

"Oh, we're well acquainted."

"Fuck," Ron moaned. No way he was going to last like this. He rocked his hips, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist. Malfoy sounded like he was trying to collect himself, even as his voice broke on the last word. Ron couldn't begin to explain why that aroused him so much, but he didn't care, already speeding up his hand as it flew over his cock.

Malfoy cast the spell, and Ron felt his cry as the toy began to move on its own. The bed gave a jolt under Malfoy's weight. He gasped again, and Ron heard his fingers scrambling across the sheets.

Ron could almost see it. He imagined Malfoy's bowed back, his knees slipping and spreading apart, his toes curling. The bed creaked with each movement. A dildo of Ron's own making, Malfoy arching back onto it as it fucked him down onto the mattress. Merlin, he should've known Malfoy would take it so well, his eyes rolling back as he listened to the sounds Malfoy made as it thrust into him.

Ron closed his eyes and felt like he was sitting in the room, watching the whole show, watching a copy of his cock pound into Malfoy again and again. The pub outside the bathroom door fell away from him, and all he could focus on was Malfoy's voice and his hand on his own cock.

"Tell me how it feels," Ron choked out, wanting to hear it, see it, touch it, to watch Malfoy unravel under Ron's hands and cock, to capture each cry with his tongue.

Malfoy groaned. "So ― good ―"

"Tell me," Ron rasped again, thrusting his hips forward into his hand. "Tell me ― ah ― how good it is."

"It's so ―" Malfoy cried out, his hands skittering over the sheets. "So good ― so big ― I ―"

"Fucking hell, Malfoy."

At that point, Ron didn't know if he wanted to be watching the toy fuck Malfoy or if he wanted to take over for it. Was he really getting jealous of a dildo? He wished he was there. He wanted to tell Malfoy as much, but he couldn't manage it, instead moaning loudly as he felt his balls begin to draw up against him.

"Fuck, Weasley, you're gonna make me come," Malfoy whined, his posh accent slipping. 

Holy shit, and that was what did it. Ron made a gut-punched sound, his wrist flicking over the head of his cock. He was coming almost before he'd even realized. He barely had the presence of mind to do anything about it before the first spurt had dribbled onto the floor. He pushed off the wall and lent forward, pumping the remainder into the sink. He heard Malfoy swear, and Ron slumped back against the wall again, listening as he came apart with a shuddering cry.

The line went quiet once more. Ron rested his head on the tiles behind him, closing his eyes, holding his softening cock. For a long time, all he could hear was Malfoy breathing on the other end, his own heartbeat equally loud in his ears.

"I liked that. A lot."

Eloquent as always. Ron half expected for Malfoy to say just that, but instead he heard a very soft chuckle ― and then, quietly, "So did I."

Now that his heart rate was gradually slowing, the noise of the club outside wormed its way back in, reminding Ron of where he was, and what he'd just done. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing at the door when he heard a chatty couple pass by. How long had he been in there? Were the others looking for him?

Another person suddenly banged on the door, and Ron started, pushing off from the wall and quickly withdrawing his wand, disabling his Silencio and spelling himself clean.

"Right." He wanted to say more. Merlin, he did. But instead all he said just then was, "Well, I should probably, er, get back to it. You know?"

"Of course." There was rustling on the line, and then Ron was off speakerphone, Malfoy's voice close and intimate again in a way that made him shiver. "Have a good night, Weasley."

"You too, Malfoy."

Ron exited the bathroom, ignoring the irritated look the other patron gave him as he slipped past.

The entire way back to their table, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Harry gave him an odd look when he slid into his seat, pulling the fresh pint they'd bought him an indeterminable amount of time ago towards him. Ron couldn't even begin to catch up with what they were all talking about, his mind drifting to thoughts of Malfoy, his mobile a leaden weight in his pocket as the night wound on.

#writer asks #dron #ron x draco #ron weasley #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #fangqueen writes fanfiction #fangqueen speaks

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Blood of the King

Chapter 1

⚠️Warning: Talks of abortion, violence⚠️

Note: This is my second attempt at a Royal AU series. Inspired by Roo’s work. Don’t want to tag her to my garbage LOL... Not the best here at world building, but like i think i’m getting better each time. Any critiques are WELCOME.

Summery: Loki has a plan to be King.

Dark Loki x Black Reader, Royal AU

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Today the palace was a buzz with festivities. His royal highness Stark decided on a whim to throw a celebration yet again. The occasion you couldn't recall as he had thrown so many just this month.

*Boom

The commotion outside was loud and eventful. King Stark's lavish party had no doubt gone out of control again. You remembered one evening the royal court drunkenly shot cannons into the royal shire using the sheep and cattle as targets. Scaring half the Kingdom into thinking it had come under siege.

Though something seemed very different then the sounds that you were accustom to.

*Boom

There was a faint whistle in the distance and crashing sounds. Suddenly the chamber shook and the walls rattled. Crumbs of ceiling splintered and bits trickled down leaving dust to coat the hall.

You were on your way back to the chamber with fresh sheets and   a canter of fresh water when you heard  struggling. The muffled cries of your mother bellowed out through the cracked door.

Peering in you see two men, one holding her in a choke hold while the other stood in front blocking your view and watched. Their armor unfamiliar to you, you watch them frozen in horror.

----

Your mother let out a loud shriek followed by a gurgling that decreased in volume the longer it went on. The man blocking your view stepped back that's when you saw it. Your mother's body hit the floor with a thud, her throat sliced open blood pooling on the floor around them all.

"Where is the younger one? There should've been two"

"We need her alive" the other said as he sheathed his blade.

Dropping everything a loud clanging drew their attention, turning away you ran down the corridor.

Immediately you were met with another body. Crashing into it, his arms secured you in place as you shrieked and screamed. In your frenzy you looked at him and to your relief when you saw Barron Obadiah, an alley to the crown.

"M-men your lordship...S-strange men have killed m-my m-mother" you sob out.

---

"Shit that bastard! Come with me." Obadiah ordered, wrenching your arm he dragged you through the hall. His touch pained your forearm, but it was a pain you would great-fully bare to escape those men.

There was a frenzy of servants running up and down the halls. Screams and the strong stench of smoke enveloped in every direction. You looked to him for answers when he stopped to survey a corner hall, but he said nothing then tread onward.

You were scared. The castle rocked and shivered. He marched you down the hall. Mail clinked and clacked from all around along with the familiar smell of copper. Known to you to be most definitely blood.

Was the kingdom was truly under siege?

*Boom

An explosion raddled the walls with such force that Obadiah almost fell to the floor taking you with him. Luckily he caught himself on a wall and hurried through the crumbling castle.

You could feel the birth of a bruise under the stead fast grip of Barron Obadiah. The pain mixed with the clouded air irritated your eyes and filled you will nausea and dizziness.

"You brainless cow hurry!" he barked at you.

He sprinted and turned down so many hallways you found yourself lost despite your tenure. Obadiah suddenly stopped short of a door, opening it thrusting you inside. Latching it closed behind himself. The room was spars, nothing but a table and map tapestries. The far wall held a Stark banner. He made his way to it moving the banner aside revealing a door. He passed through first and you followed after. The dimly lit passage whined down in a spiral pattern. 

There was a dim light that grew the closer down you went. You huffed and panted with every step and he cursed your sluggishness. The ruckus could only faintly be heard the further down you went. You were a sweaty mess by the time you reached the last rung of the stone steps.

The stairwell turned into a narrow hall. Awaiting at the end of it a meek fellow with a horse drawn two wheeled cart.

You looked at Obadiah confused as to what was to transpire here. He sprinted down the corridor so fast that you would have found it humorous if you weren't so scared and confused. He reached the  man and by the flailing of his arms you knew it could not be good.

Why was he yelling at this man? What was going on? Was he to ride in this meek two wheeled cart? Would he make you walk behind the it?

You could barely keep pace with him doubtful you could keep step with a mare. This whole thing was preposterous.

After the barrage of insults the man walked to the back of the cart and lifted the tarp. The cart was filled with barrels.

Obadiah called your name as he marched over to you.

"The castle is under siege we must hurry" he said flatly. There was no time for questions and even if you asked you doubt he would’ve answered.

"Keep your head down and follow close behind him. Do you understand." He barked as he loaded himself onto the cart.

Looking at him worried, you trembled as you shook 'Yes'. "As soon as you see the docks I want you to knock on this barrel." You watched as he pointed. The owner of the cart tossed the tarp over Obadiah once he seated himself. His broad frame mirroring one of the many barrels in the cart.

---

You were not royalty, but your clothes where of the royal brand. Even to the untrained eye you would surely be seen as a royal slave. Walking with this man would've been out of place. With the madness going on about the kingdom you only hoped that the invaders cared not for slaves.

The stranger said nothing, only leading his mare by its reigns. You lowered your head and followed behind him.

Quietly he marched past the markets and crumbled houses. The reign of Stark was coming to an end. There was fire and destruction everywhere. Blood painted the streets. Unfamiliar banners flew through the air.

The city was burning.

You kept your head down as the man lead his horse through town toward the gate. How the horse did not become skittish or fazed by the carnage was an amazement.

"AAAAAHHHHH" a man's screamed out. Your head sought to find its owner. Feet from you an unfamiliar soldier of Stark's lay as you cross the gates out of the Royal court. His throat slashed, convulsing on his own blood as he choked it up.

You trembled at the sight of it all. More horses with strange banners flew past. Wringing your hands in your chest you said a silent prayer for safe passage.

The kingdom did not reside too far from the docks. Eventually the smell of the salty sea mixed with the smokey air. When the docks finally where in your line of sight you knocked the barrels.

As you approached you could see a soldier posted up at the entry way to the docking ships.

"Oye cargo for the Laufeyson" the meek man announced.

The soldier was covered in armor, but it was not embroider with the logos you had seen about your kingdom. He grunted then side-stepped letting him pass.

The owner of the cart walked straight to a bridge leading up to a massive ship. Lifting the lid Obadiah exited. He handed the man a satchel and sent him on his way.

When you looked back at the horizon it looked as if the sun had set upon the town. The fire was so bright you were sure nothing could survive it.

"Do not dawdle" he grumbled. You kept your head low and followed him up the gangway.

---

As you two boarded the ship a crewman appeared on the deck. He called to Obadiah and beckoned him to follow. Leading you both through the ship, he stopped short of a massive open door.

Obadiah walked through with you following close behind. The crewman did not enter the room only retreating from which he came.

To the north of the room a wall made of windows, but with the  moon already high, it offered barely any light. A thick melting candle added to the illumination. It flickered slightly from the air that seeped through the walls.

The candle planted on a table in the middle of the room and sat at it a man unknown to you. His garb was unlike any you've seen before. His pulchritudinous had you almost breathless.

---

"Prince Loki! I see the sea hath treated you well."  Obadiah's voice boomed. At the mention of his title your eyes widen and you bow sharply, praying that he would not find insult in your insolence.

"Ah yes the Lord doth bless us with a safe passage. And howbeit your journey through this perilous night?" He spoke. The foreign intonation sent an unfamiliar heat within you.

"It was a trip taken sooner then expected" his annoyance shown through every word as he marched to the table.

"We agreed to wait did we not? So why pray tell do I find myself blind sided by your recklessness? I barely escaped with clothes on my back" he spat out.

Obadiah snarkiness didn’t go unnoticed. Through your lashes you caught the slightest tick of the Prince's eye.

If Barron Obadiah had been a servant surely he would have been laid out on the floor. Beaten within an inch of his life for such insolence. But he was so unaware of himself due to Stark’s own lax policies.

"I do apologize my brother is quite unalienable when it comes to war. His spontaneity is one of which I can not control. Your life should suffice for now surely." He quipped, but there was something to his tone that sent your nerves awry.

You could feel Obadiah control his ire a sight you were accustom to when he talked to King Stark.

"Let us partake in some wine and toast to officially solidify our alliance" The prince suggested. Barron Obadiah took his place at the wooden table across him.

The Barron had a hand in treason. Would you be fated to treason too?

"Maid do you forget your duties?" The prince called out to you.

You had forgot yourself, but how could you not. This was not your Prince, from what you knew this was not your king's ship. But you were being made to serve a traitor and the invaders royalty.

Looking about the room, wooden cabinets were built into the east walls. In your unfamiliar surroundings you prayed as you rushed to them, hoping to find something.

Opening the higher doors first you find chalices set atop a shelf and a decanter. Grabbing two and the wine you bring them over to the table you place them in front of the men. Shakily you pour in both cups to their fill and set back against the wall.

"To small victories" they rose their goblets and drank.

----

When he gulped down the wine Obadiah winced and shot up to his feet. Dropping his goblet to the floor, clawing at his neck as if to rip out the contents.

You looked at him in horror. Then your eyes sought Prince Loki for guidance, but his reaction was not what you expected. A smile was adorned on his face so pleased and joyous of the sight.

Baron Obadiah dropped to the ground foaming, spasming, puking and turning colors. Loki continued drinking his wine unfazed.

"You bastard!" Obadiah choked out as bile spilled from him.

You stepped back when Barron Obadiah's arm reached out to your skirt. His fingers barely missing the hem of your dress. The sight horrified you as he convulsed. When his gasping stopped you knew he was for the worms now.

Would whatever had bewitched him would possessed you too?

"Right" The Prince leered at you as you pressed yourself into the wall. You were normally slow, but this was quick to put together. It was his doing.

This must’ve been some test of loyalty to the crown you thought to yourself. Now because you escaped with Obadiah you would be seen as a traitor too. Even if you tried to explain your innocence, you doubted highly that the Prince would believe a slave.

Looking at the now dead Obadiah then to Prince Loki, you knew what was next. Death. Clasping your hands you fell to your knees, squeezing your eyes closed tight. You spoke your last rights to which ever god that would hear it. You were no fool. Begging would be pointless you rather speak to the gods to grant you safe passage to the next world.

"I do say dear that prayers like that would have you condemn as a heretic" he admonished as tears streamed down your face.

---

You could not hear him. You continued to pray.

Let it be swift. Let it not hurt. Forgiveness please I beg of thee.

Hoping against hope that this would wash away all your sins as tears burst through your tightened lids.

"It is said that Stark despite his rumored infidelity never had a whisper of a bastard." He recalled as he took a sip from his cup. The mention of a bastard broke through your prayers. A sudden sense of nausea bubbled up within you.

"Then... At my brothers wedding to your princess, our then queen, your king's lips became loose as the wine flowed through the night." As he spoke you looked up at him through your clasped hands. Your prayers lowered to a meager whisper so that you could hear him.

You swallowed deeply. You knew exactly what he was getting at. Your hands drop to your side and you quieted yourself. His steely eyes staring into your soul. He knew what you were and what you did.

Were you being brought to the high church? Why would a Prince be labored with such a task? Was the church the cause for the anarchy tonight?

To be brought before the high church meant death, that one should never wish upon any enemy. You had seen the burnings before, the screams of the unholy, the sounds of which would visited you at night. The way the writhed in agony as the flames lapped their flesh.

Looking over to the Barron's lifeless body the thought of his death seemed more humane. So you turn on your knees and jump to the spilled chalice. Before you knew it the Prince was on you.

Pinning you to the floor, your head bounced off the floor sending you into a daze, his hands engulfed your wrist. Looming over you his silken hair tickled your face, the tendrils brushing at your tears. Despite his overpowering your body strained and clawed for the spilled cup.

"Find yourself honored girl. I do not make a habit to lowering myself."

"Please your highness... I'm merely a simple chambermaid" you try and reason, still fighting his hold.

-----

He got up still with your wrist in hand and dragged you to Obadiah's empty chair. The more you pulled back the harder the grip he held on you. Pushing you down on it, he enclosed you, his hands resting on its arms forming your prison.

"Your highness I implore you I know not what you mean?" Your voice quaked. Your vision doubled as the salty tears pooled on your eyes.

His stare was paralyzing as he lifted to straighten himself, you could not bring yourself to move. Racking his fingers through his dark main, watching as he walked around the table, taking his seat again across from you.

"How did you come about this trade" his tone was flat an ominous, he cradled his chin with one hand, stroking it with his slender fingers.

Your shoulders sagged forward and stomach knotted. This Prince was here to interrogate you on behalf of the church you knew it.

Then he would take you to them to be burned. An example to be made in front of The High Church.

"I asked you a question girl." His tone lacking patients.

----

"My mother..." As he held your sullen gaze you knew he wanted you to continue. "The women of town would come to her pregnant and leave...." You swallowed thickly "virginal."

It was not a flawless procedure often women have bleed out. But they would be good as dead if they were to arrived home pregnant unmarried in the eyes of The Church.

"And how did you find yourself as a dutiful servant to Stark?"

"Lord Rhodery knew of my mother by means of his sister. She was carrying the king's bastard." You said looking down to tug at the loose string of your dress.

"A month later my mother and I were sent by cover of night to the Royal castle.  From there on Stark had us stay under the guise as chambermaids."

"Who knew of this?"

"Very few just King Stark, Barron Obadiah and Lord Rhodery. They would bring the maidens to an east tower. People rarely ventured there. Our face was covered all throughout."

"So you know how to hold your tongue. A feature I admire.”

----

 "When we dock you will be taken to the servants quarters in your new Kings castle" Prince Loki spoke so softly, his calmness somehow setting you on edge.

You wrung your hands together in your lap, tapping your heel as he pulled something from his clothes. It was a bit of folded parchment with a wax seal. You could not read, but you always were fond of the squiggles that decorated paper.

"A portly woman will be there to greet you when you arrive. Give this to her." He out stretched his hand that held a parchment to you. Reaching for it, but Prince Loki pulled it away suddenly.

"Hide it away.” He ordered, you hesitated as you thought of where to stash it. You jumped when he rose again and stood in front of you once more.

“If anyone asks where you are from. Tell them you are from a province just out side my domain.” As Prince Loki spoke you stiffened and gasped.

The Prince's hand glided down your collar bone tracing down to the crack of your bosom. The folded paper clipping your chin as he moved. When he shoved it forcefully down bypassing your breast with the parchment you yelped. 

The paper edges poking at your softness made you fidget uncomfortably. Your eyes were larger than saucers as he caressed your breast when he pulled away.

"You will be a wall. A piece of furniture. An unassuming figure amongst the abysmal castle life. Listen for everything. Ears open at all times. The minorist of details commit them to memory as you never know when the slightest detail would come into play.”

You did not respond, still stunned and confused. If he wasn’t bringing you to the church you weren’t sure what he had planned for you.

Prince Loki called out to someone beyond you. The squeaks on the floor boards announced their entrance. Turning you find the man that guided you to this room. Bowing his head towards the prince.

"Take her and make sure she arrives to my brother’s safely."

XXX

Chapter 2>>

#dark Loki x Black reader #dark thor x black reader #dark!loki x black!reader #dark!thor x black!reader #dark loki x black!reader #dark thor x black!reader #black writer #dark loki x reader #dark!loki x reader #dark thor x reader #dark!thor x reader #loki x black!reader #loki x reader #royal au

[oneoftheextras]

Caged | two

Alpha!Villain!All Might x Omega!Reader

masterlist | tip jar

A lovely and generous reader gave me a Tip to write a second part to my Alpha Villain All Might/Toshinori story so here we are. Thank you so much for helping me support myself while writing, it really means a lot!

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, smut and breeding kink

Part 1 | 

When you awoke you were alone, the sunlight peaking through the tatty blinds covering each window and highlighting the specs of dust that floated through the almost empty room. 

You were lying on your side on a very uncomfortable couch, a couch that you vaguely remembered falling asleep on in the first place. A light knitted blanket covered your naked body, but you were already sweating.

A twinge of pain in your lower abdomen triggered your memory of the night before, the realisation of where you were and who this house belonged to hit you like leaves on a train track - all of a sudden and had you flying into the air.

Once your feet were on the ground you used the blanket to shamefully cover yourself, just in case someone was lurking in one of the few rooms of the building and happened upon your nude self.

You needed a cold shower, you felt the disgusting hue of sweat coating your skin from your premature heat, normally you would have everything set out and planned ahead so you were ready for it - you weren’t expecting it so early.

Roaming the bottom floor, you opened every door you saw in an attempt to find the bathroom. You found what seemed to be a home gym and storage room, at least that’s what you’d say if you had to guess, there was a bunch of work out machines alongside multiple opened boxes filled with random stuff - there were trophies, clothes, a games console, there didn’t seem to be any form of organisation.

Feeling the dust tickle your nose you decided to close the door again and leave it be, if you were to disturb anything he would surely know.

There wasn’t much to the downstairs of Toshinori’s house, the living room took up most of the space, and the kitchen area being added to it eliminated another room.

Cautiously you moved to the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the steep steps, you collected as much of the blanket as you could into your hands and started walking up them, you didn’t want to trip so you took your time.

Upstairs wasn’t as open as downstairs, there were multiple doors leading to various rooms, you didn’t know where to start. It was now occurring to you that you were being very rude and nosy, but you didn’t care you wanted a shower.

This was the house of a notorious villain, known for destroying buildings and murdering innocent people, you realised you needed to stop delaying and get out of this place as quickly as you could.

You thanked your lucky stars that he hadn’t killed you when he found you in his house the night before, he could have done so easily but had spared you for some reason. You weren’t about to start questioning the motives behind his motives and just be thankful that you’re alive.

Opening each door to peak inside you eventually found the bathroom, it was very simple: clean white tiles, glass shower, a toilet and a sink. You couldn’t help but feel like this man lived a very basic life - the house was not a home but definitely had potential.

Hopping into the shower you allowed the water to run over your aching body, only now could you feel how much it hurt. There were tiny purple bruises littered around your hip bones and waist, yet another reminder of the night before.

The water helped you to feel cleaner but there wasn’t much you could do about the aching in your bones and stomach, your skin craved the warm feeling of a gentle touch.

Normally you would use your heated blanket in your own bedroom, but you were far from home and the damp towel wrapped around your body was nothing in comparison to it.

Then it hit you, the only clothes you had were your work clothes and they were drenched in sweat. You wandered out of the bathroom in search for some clothes, Toshinori had forced your heat to come early, the least he could do was make you feel comfortable. You were sure he wouldn’t notice some clothes missing.

Earlier when you were snooping around you’d found, what you would assume to be, the master bedroom. The bed was huge with dark grey sheets, the size was probably to accommodate his large form, you remembered how he towered over you, he was easily twice your own size.

The thought made goosebumps crawl across your skin, now was not the time to indulge in such thoughts, you needed to get dressed and leave as quickly as possible.

You made your way over to a huge mirrored closet and slid the door to the side, there were a few pieces of clothing hanging up but they all looked the same.

Some were ginormous and some were average size, there was a black hoodie that seemed tailored to his muscular body that you had to resist the temptation to snuggle into.

Instead you found a plain white top and a pair of green combat trousers, they were a bit baggy on you but it was enough to get you home.

As soon as you pulled the fabric over your head you realised your mistake, even though it was clean the remaining smell of his cologne entered your nostrils and consumed you.

That familiar smell of caramel and oak wood filled your entire being, and you felt a cold sweat start to break out on your forehead as you started to shake. Determined to get threw this and out of the house, you pulled it down over your chest and stomach.

You reached a hand out to grab the pants you’d seen hanging up but your attention was drawn to the hoodie, you tried your best to concentrate but your body deceived you. Before you knew it you were slipping the hoodie off of it’s hanger and bringing it up to your face.

The fabric was soft to the touch and the smell was beyond amazing, he must have worn this recently and then put it back in the closet. You wondered what other things he had worn recently that had his Alpha scent on it.

Ten minutes went by and you’d pulled out half a dozen items of clothing that were now laying on the bed, you’d somehow managed to find a big metal basket at the end of the bed that had a variety of blankets in it, all of which you had confiscated.

You organised them into a messy circle on top of the plush mattress and wrapped a particularly fluffy blanket around you, strangely it was helping your sweat. You were fully aware that you were nesting in a villain’s home, but you couldn’t stop.

Never before had you had an Alpha around during your heat, normally you would go through it alone in your apartment, you’d dabbled in the idea of going out to quench the urges you had but you knew better than to go to a bar smelling like a desperate Omega. That was how you would get yourself killed.

Now that you’d had the taste of an Alpha you were thirsty, like you hadn’t drank water in three weeks, your lips were chapped and your throat yearned for him.

Cuddling up to the black hoodie you had found, you were starting to whine, you were both uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time - the nest gave you physical comfort but you wanted more, you wanted him back.

All plans to leave had gone out of the window, you needed to be satisfied in ways that suppressants couldn’t control and toys wouldn’t come close to.

Almost as if on call, the bedroom door swung open and Toshinori stared at your small body curled up in a pile of his clothes and blankets. You hadn’t heard the front door open or any footsteps coming up the stairs, you were so wrapped up in controlling your inner urges.

As soon as you caught scent of him your eyes shot open and towards where he was standing, he looked nervous, scared - concerned? You weren’t sure, your eyes wouldn’t focus properly, but you needed him.

“I came as quickly as I could” he said breathing heavily, he too was sweating, “How did-” you started but couldn’t finish, you wanted to ask him what he meant but couldn’t form the words.

“I don’t know, I just had a feeling that you needed me” he explained, he too was confused, “Let me take care of you” he commanded, puffing his chest out and transforming into the figure you knew as All Smite.

“N-No!” you whined reaching a hand out for him, he was half way across the room to you when he stopped, the look of hurt on his face said it all - me must have thought you didn’t want him at all.

That couldn’t be further from the truth, you wanted him, very very badly. But this wasn’t him, this was All Smite, a villain. You wanted to Toshinori you knew, the thin blonde man that never failed to put a smile on your face while your work day was dragging you down.

“Not like that” you clarified, your eyes were starting to water, it felt like if he didn’t hold you within the next couple of seconds then your body would crumble into a pile of dust.

He was stumped, he opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it again, “This isn’t you, I want you” you begged him. You started to emerge from your clothing fort you’d made to get closer to him, you were afraid that if you tried to stand your legs would fail you so you shimmied your way to the end of the bed.

“This is me” he said glancing down at his muscular body bewildered. You shook your head furiously and muttered out a “Please”, finally you were able to meet his blue eyes and you noticed the twinkle of realisation hit him and a small pink blush paint over his nose.

White steam seeped from every part of his body until you weren’t able to see him through the cloud of fog, desperately you wanted to see him again, you reached your hand out into the smoke to find him when you felt his hand clasp around yours.

At the feeling of physical contact your skin felt as though it was set on fire and spread quickly from your hand all the way through your body and down to your toes.

Gently he pulled you up towards him so you were up against his chest, you allowed yourself to snuggle into his warmth more and it made you feel complete. 

Softly he put his hand under your jaw and lifted your face to look up at him, he seemed embarrassed and uncomfortable. Pushing yourself up on your knees, you brought yourself up to the crevice of his neck so you could brush your nose against his scent gland.

A quiet growl came from him when you made contact making you stop for a second to check that it was okay to continue, twisting your head to glance up at him he hastily took the opportunity to kiss you, sealing your lips with his passionately.

One kiss turned into two and two turned into two dozen, all the while he pushed you back up the bed and towards the nest you’d made. You pushed clothes aside to make room for your guest without breaking contact with him, every kiss stoked the fire that was burning in you.

Finally he released your lips so he could pull his top up over his head and you made sure to grab it and add it to the pile before it even touched the ground. He chuckled at your actions with blown out lust-filled eyes and started to undo his jeans.

That’s when you realised that you never got around to putting on any pants of your own, you were wearing only his white top. 

You allowed your body to slowly recline until you felt the soft mattress touch your back, at this point Toshinori had finished undressing himself so you could admire his fully naked form.

It wasn’t as muscular as his bigger figure but his muscles were still defined, he was leaner but still very strong. He didn’t give you much time to inspect him before he crawled on top of you and continued his assault on your lips.

Hooking your hands around his neck, you pulled his head towards you so you could deepen the kiss - you were so full of his embrace that it made you jump when you felt one of his fingers brush against your entrance.

His hand retracted at you flinching and he stopped kissing you so he could reassure you “I’ll be gently today, I promise” he smiled, looking deep into your eyes, regardless of how he treated you the night before you whole-heartedly believed him.

“Are you sore?” he asked, moving his head so he could place gentle kisses on your neck, “Mhmmm” you nodded as you felt his fingers glide through your folds, you were impatient.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough” he kissed, pushing one finger slowly into you as though you were made of glass and any quick movements would shatter you. Moaning softly, you gripped onto the back of his head and moved your legs further apart to give him room.

He slid his finger in and out of you at a painfully steady pace, you whined in between moans and thrust your hips towards him to let him know you wanted more.

You felt him chuckle against your neck as he pulled his finger out of you, the warm breath against your skin made your whole body tingle, “Okay, okay” he said as though he was scorning you for not being patient enough.

That’s when you felt the smooth head of his cock push your lips aside, as he promised, he pushed himself into you; forcing your walls to clench wildly around him for something to grip onto.

You relished in the deep groan that came out of his mouth and splashed against your ear, it was so quiet that you probably wouldn’t have heard it if all your senses weren’t giving him your complete undivided attention. 

“Please” you begged again, hardly able to control yourself, you wanted every part of him and you wanted it now. Slowly at first, he pulled himself nearly all the way out of you and then almost as carefully, he pushed all the way back in. You could feel every bump and vein of his cock brushing against your insides and it felt wonderful.

Once he had found his pace, you wrapped your legs around his waist and hooked your feet together to deepen the angle, you weren’t proud of the noises that were coming from you.

He tried to continue kissing your neck and jaw line but his own need took over, making his thrusts faster and more erratic and his kisses were just the same. He sloppily let his bottom lip rest against your skin in an attempt to keep the contact, but all you could feel was the exhales from his pants and that was just as blissful.

Using the heel of your foot, you matched his pace, pulling him harder so he could fully sheath himself inside of you, it didn’t take long for his gentle pace to fade into hard and melodically thrusts.

You didn’t even attempt to conceal your screams, you wanted him to hear what he was doing to you - his right hand roamed in search for yours as he kept up the relentless pace that he had set.

The headboard of his bed was thumping against the wall in rhythm with him, eventually he found your hand and entwined his fingers with yours and let them rest on the pillow above your head.

Attempting to do the same with the other, you started to feel his knot forming, something that you’d been thinking about all day. It pushed against your entrance hard as though each thrust was making it knock and ask for your permission.

You felt Toshinori’s teeth against your neck as he grit them, in one particularly strong thrust, his knot pushed itself inside of you and stretched you even more.

Sure, he wasn’t in his muscle form, but he was definitely still hung.

Almost instinctively, he gripped your throat in between his teeth and bit down sharply, you yelped as you felt the pain rocket through your neck and jaw. He didn’t let go immediately, he continued to hold your flesh in his mouth as he thrust into you. He was like a wild animal that had finally caught it’s prey after hours of stalking and chasing.

Eventually, he released your skin and continued to kiss where he had marked you, you were unsure why he had mated with you - why would the number one feared villain in the whole of Japan want to mate with you, a barista.

That was until he started to speak “I’ve wanted to make you mine for so long Omega” he grunted while he pumped himself into you even faster, your head spinning as he called you by your title “I’m going to fill you up completely, do you want that?” he huffed, lifting himself up so he could look upon your face.

With every sentence he said, you felt your orgasm creeping up as though his words were coaxing it out of hiding, your clit tingled with delight, you were so close.

You sloppily nodded your head as he pinned your other hand above your head, “I’m going to fill your belly with my seed until your body has no choice but to carry my pups” he told you, everything he was saying made you moan even more, you wanted everything he said and more.

His thrusts became off beat, the rhythm was gone, just a few more thrusts until you felt him spill himself inside you, triggering your own orgasm. You both rode out your blissful high together as he rested his forehead against you own and the last couple of drops entered you.

Panting, you laid there unmoving, not because you didn’t want to but because his knot wouldn’t allow you. He let go of your hands and held you against his chest, he rolled onto his back and in turn pulled you on top of him, cock still fully inside you and very very hard.

“Did you mean it? What you said?” you asked breathlessly, he looked down at your tired and sweat covered body, “About wanting you for a long time?” he clarified and you nodded.

Pushing a strand of your hair out of your face, he smiled “Yeah, you didn’t think I really liked that crappy coffee, did you?” he laughed, making your head bounce along with his chest. You lifted you head so you could give him an offended look.

“I knew from the moment I saw you that you were my Omega, I just never knew how to approach you, and then you practically fell into my lap” he explained, it was a weird and unconventional way for someone to find their soulmate but you were just happy you’d found him.

There was still something nagging in the back of your mind, he was a villain, how did you know he wouldn’t abandon you. Almost as though he had read your mind he kissed you on the forehead, “I’m here now, and I wont let anyone or anything hurt you - especially not me” his eyes were full of adoration for you.

“I prefer you like this” you stated, poking a finger into his ribs making him flinch, “Like this huh?” he smirked, putting his arms around your torso and slowly moving his still hard cock out of you and then back in again.

It was clear he was a man of his word and truly wasn’t done with you, “I’m glad” he smiled, it was a genuine smile, one full of love and pure happiness. Something told you he would indeed keep you safe, and you would be the one to show him how loved he truly was.

Tag List:

@mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law @hereticpriest @enagmaticether @anxiousgoddest

#all might x reader #toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi x reader #all smite #all smite x reader #villain!allmight x reader #villain all might #caged part 2

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 11

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: As always, the lovely KC (only in mention) belongs to the beautiful @kc-and-oc . Thank you for everyone holding my blushing little hand through this and listening to me whine about it. Also thank you for all the ones providing me with research information 👀. You know who you are! 💛

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Langague, depiction of alcohol consumption, depiction of drug abuse, graphic depiction of explicit NSFW content - do NOT read if under the age of 18!

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

And we were trying different things

We were smoking funny things

Making love out by the lake to our favorite song

Sipping whiskey out the bottle, not thinking 'bout tomorrow

Singing Sweet home Alabama all summer long

~ Kid Rock - All Summer Long ~

~ 10 months prior ~

It had been an unusually hot day, even for the middle of August. The heat hazes over the scalding hot streets were omnipresent, and people everywhere were trying to find some relief from the burning sun.

Lizzie loved every second of it.

She didn’t mind the high temperatures at all and relished the warmth on her skin as she stepped outside the old house in Kensington. It belonged to Ethan Parkin and Equinox had been keeping their rehearsal rooms in his converted cellar ever since Lizzie could remember.

They had just finished a long day of putting together the last details for their upcoming European tour. It had taken them all day until everyone had been satisfied with the results. Finally outside again, Lizzie intended to make the most out of the remaining hours of daylight.

It had suited her just fine when Orion had mentioned the poetry slam happening just around the corner of where he was living. He had invited all of them to come, but all except Lizzie had already made plans for the evening. Skye had wanted to come as well, but after receiving a text, she had abruptly changed her mind again.

So now it was only the two of them riding on the West Kensington tube station towards Gloucester Road. Orion was casually carrying a huge bag containing one of his guitars over his shoulder.

“Why are you taking that with you?” Lizzie asked him curiously. “You usually keep them in the rehearsal room.”

“Everything has its time, may it be little or large. The time of the strings on this guitar are almost over; I need to replace them,” Orion said. “I don’t have any suitable ones at the rehearsal room though. I’ll just drop the guitar off at home and we’ll be on our way again.”

They had just hopped onto the Circle Line that would take them to Notting Hill; Orion watched her from across his seat. “Why do you look so surprised?”

Lizzie tilted her head to one side. “In all these years, none of us has ever been at your place before. Except for Merula, of course,” she added matter-of-factly.

They were about to reach Notting Hill Gate and Orion motioned for her to get up. “Then it’s about time.”

They had to walk a bit from the tube station to the house where Orion was living. Although it took them about fifteen minutes to get there, Lizzie didn’t even notice. They passed through bustling streets, several of them lined with market stalls selling food and curious little trinkets. The colourful terraces and fronts that made Nottinghill so famous brightened Lizzie’s mood even further.

She and Orion were talking about all kinds of things, the band, the tour, the fact that Lizzie had never been to a poetry slam before; something, Orion told her, they would definitely need to change.

When they arrived at their destination, Lizzie dipped her head back and looked up at the brightly painted front of the old house. It was bigger than the ones surrounding it and Lizzie presumed it was made up of several flats.

“Are you coming?” Orion called over to her; he was waiting in the doorway, holding the door open for her.

Lizzie smiled as she followed him into the cool darkness of the stairwell. “I just thought this place fits you.”

He laughed softly as he climbed the stairs behind her. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s a mix of so many different things,” Lizzie explained, “traditional, but also free-spirited and unconventional, old-fashioned and modern at the same time; just like you.”

She heard Orion laugh again. “Well, if you think so.”

They walked right to the top floor, where two dark blue doors branched off the landing. Orion unlocked the one on the left and stepped aside to let her enter his flat first.

Lizzie found herself standing in one huge, sun-filled room; her eyes were immediately drawn to the big skylights in the bare brick walls through which the light was filtering in. It was a lot tidier than she would have expected from someone with as much creative energy as Orion. But even though the furniture was pretty minimalistic, the room seemed to breathe Orion’s energy.

Everywhere she looked Lizzie could see something that was so inherently him; a half-finished travel book on India, a bowl full of colourful crystals, a small dreamcatcher hanging over his bed in the far corner of the room. Almost every free surface was occupied by plants of all forms and sizes; they added a pleasant pop of colour to the otherwise neutral toned place.

Everything Orion needed on a daily basis seemed to be in the room Lizzie was standing in right now; the only thing she was surprised to notice was the total lack of anything to do with music. While she kept her main drum kit at their rehearsal room when they weren’t on tour, she had a smaller one over at her own place, as well as some other percussion and a guitar for when she felt like a change.

Her unasked question was answered when Orion walked past her into an adjacent room Lizzie hadn’t noticed before, his guitar still strung over his shoulder. Curious, she followed behind and had to chuckle when she saw the reason why there were no traces of Orion’s love for music in the main room.

The whole second room of his flat had been turned into some kind of home studio. All of their awards and golden records were hung on the walls, alternating with several old guitars. All of them seemed to be in pristine condition.

On Lizzie’s left side was a huge table that was littered with notebooks, plectrums and a simple switchboard she assumed Orion used for recordings. What piqued her interest was located on the other side of the room, however; all the instruments featured in their band were set up there, including a worn looking, blue drum kit, almost similar to the one she had at home for practising.

Lizzie smiled and stepped closer to it as Orion deposited his guitar on the worktable. She ran her hand over the floor tom, one of the horizontally mounted drums. Something about it felt oddly familiar.

“Do you remember it?”

Lizzie looked up from the drums and saw Orion leaning against the doorframe, watching her. “You should, it’s the one you used on our first tour. The label let me have it for practically nothing.”

The memory made her smile and she tapped her fingers against the slightly worn drum head in a quick, alternating rhythm. “Why am I not surprised at all that you’re using half of your place for making music?”

He mirrored her smile. “Passion is like a living thing, it needs room to breathe and be free if it wants to thrive. Did you think I made up all the instrument parts for our songs only in my head?”

Lizzie picked up one of the drumsticks and flipped it, laughing as she caught it again. “And your neighbours are okay with you running your one-man band up here?”

“So far, no one has complained,” Orion grinned before pushing himself off the wall. He motioned to her to follow him. “Come on, the studio’s great but I want to show you the best part of this place.”

She followed him back into the other room, where he led her to one of the huge skylights. Lizzie noticed the steep, rickety looking steps beneath it. Orion reached up and undid the latch before quickly climbing upwards and vanishing through the window.

When she didn’t follow immediately, his head popped back into view. “What’s wrong?”

Lizzie eyed the steps sceptically. “These don't look really trustworthy.”

Orion laughed and extended his hand to her. “Don’t you trust me?” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Or are you scared?”

“As if,” Lizzie snorted indignantly and climbed up after him, completely ignoring his offer for help.

Her momentary flare of stubborness died as quickly as it had come when she stepped past Orion and out onto a beautiful terrace, set back into the roof of the building. It wasn’t a particularly large space, but it was more than enough for a sunchair, a set of lounge chairs and a table. A huge parasol protected the area from the sun, but even so it was burning hot up here. The ground was laid with wooden floorboards and several chains of fairy lights and small lampions were fixed to the walls or wound about the railing of the sunshade.

Not one to be intimidated by the heat, Lizzie walked over to the wrought iron railing and leaned over it, admiring the breathtaking view stretching out in front of her. The skyline of London was glittering in the sunlight and she could make out the sea of green that was Kensington Gardens.

“Wow,” she breathed, “the view is fantastic.”

She heard Orion chuckle from somewhere behind her. “It is.”

Lizzie’s eyes fell to the many plant pots lining the length of the terrace. Like the plants inside, they added something peaceful to the atmosphere; she had never known Orion was so into gardening.

She ran her finger over the leaves of one of them. “Who’s taking care of these when we’re on tour?”

“My neighbour,” Orion answered, “she knows her way around plants. She is teaching botany at Queen Mary University.”

Lizzie had spotted a very familiar looking specimen with distinctly pinnate leaves. She turned to Orion with a grin. “And your professor neighbour is alright with watering this illegal little fellow here?”

Orion laughed. “She’s very liberal on the matter, really. Where do you think I got it from?”

“All for scientific reasons, I presume.”

“It does open the mind to a new level of creativity,” Orion shrugged, making Lizzie laugh out loud.

“That sounds so much like you. No wonder I don’t get the lyrics half the time.”

Lizzie stepped back from the railing and wandered over to the sunchair. The heated surface bit into the bare skin of her legs as she lounged into it, but she enjoyed the warmth as soon as the initial pain subsided.

“I can definitely see why this is your favourite place,” she sighed, “I could just stay here all day.”

“The poetry slam doesn’t start for another hour,” Orion said, “and it’s not far from here, so we don’t have to go just yet. Do you want a drink or something?”

Lizzie turned her head and shaded her eyes with her hand. “I like the sound of that.”

***

One glass of ice cold white wine turned into two, and then turned into a number Lizzie couldn’t possibly remember anymore. The sun had long gone down and the poetry slam had started ages ago, but they were still sitting on Orion’s rooftop terrace with no intention of going anywhere anytime soon.

With the sun gone, the air had grown cooler; the floor and walls were heated by the day’s sun, but Lizzie had found herself hugging her bare knees, shivering just a little. Orion had gone back inside to bring her something to keep her warm; he had come back with a plain black hoodie that she had gratefully accepted. Orion was much taller than Lizzie was, however and so the sweater hung loose around her shoulders and went down past beneath her hips. Lizzie had to roll up the sleeves several times until her hands were free again, but she was glad for the extra warmth it provided.

It didn’t surprise her that Orion didn’t grow the weed plant out of sheer botanical interest; accompanying the wine, they were sharing a joint with a mixture he had created himself. Lizzie couldn’t tell if she was primarily drunk or high at this point, the only thing she knew was that she had never in her life seen anything so fascinating as the fairy lights reflected in her wine glass.

“Like teeny tiny fireflies,” she giggled as she twirled the glass between her fingers, delighted by the way the light sparkled in the cold drink.

“I think you’ve caught a bit too much,” Orion chuckled but handed her the joint back anyway. Although he had been wearing a very detached grin on his face for the last half an hour or so, he wasn’t nearly as giddy as Lizzie; but then again, he was probably much more used to smoking than she was.

“And besides,” he continued, holding his own glass up against the lights, “they’re clearly little stars; how can you not see that?” His face grew pensive. “A whole, tiny wine glass galaxy.”

“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Lizzie declared firmly. She lounged deeper into her armchair and took a deep drag. She dipped her head back and slowly blew the smoke into the air; the way it made the lights hazy was really pretty. “And it’s called a teacup galaxy.”

���Aren’t we all galaxies in our own teacups, in one way or another?”

Lizzie hummed in response. “In that case, I’d actually prefer the wine glass.”

She closed her eyes and let the sensation of the cushions in her back envelope her for a moment. From somewhere in the neighbourhood music was drifting up to them; from what she could hear, it sounded tropical, Caribbean maybe. Her thoughts being deliciously hazy, Lizzie could just imagine not being on a rooftop in London, but on a beautiful beach somewhere far, far away.

She smiled to herself; there could be worse company on a tropical island than Orion. The smile turned into a smirk as she thought about the many different tattoos she knew were decorating his well-toned upper body; she could most definitely imagine having worse company.

Indulging the idea of lounging in the warm sand with a drink and the rushing of the waves in the air a few moments longer, a sudden thought struck her and she sat upright.

“I just had the most brilliant idea.”

Surprised by her unexpected outburst of energy, Orion almost dropped his glass. “I told you smoking broadens the mind,” he said after regaining his composure. “What is it?”

“We should so change our tour display. It’s boring.”

A mixture of intrigue and scepticism showing on his features, Orion tilted his head. “So your suggestion would be?”

Excited by her flash of genius, Lizzie placed her now empty glass on the table between them and leaned forward. “Two words: steel drums.”

Orion didn’t say anything for a moment, a crease forming on his forehead. Then, he broke into a dazzling smile. “That must be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“I know, right? But it gets even better.”

“How could it get better than steel drums? More steel drums?”

Lizzie contemplated that possibility for a moment but discarded it quickly. “No, I don’t think so.” Her eyes lit up as she thought about her idea. “But you and Ev could totally play ukulele.”

Orion sighed. “Totally.”

A thought seemed to cross his mind. “But I’m not sure Ev can play the ukulele.”

Lizzie was dismayed by this. “I thought if you can play the guitar you can automatically play the ukulele.”

“If you want to call what Ev does playing.”

She had to snort with laughter at Orion’s dry tone. “We’ll just replace him with KC, she’s the prettier one anyway.” The thought of KC performing a hula dance on stage had her laugh even harder.

“There’s a problem though,” Orion broke her out of her entertaining thoughts.

“What’s that?”

“You can’t play the steel drums.”

“Who says that I can’t?”

“Well, can you?”

“I can learn,” Lizzie replied stubbornly. “How hard can that be? You only have one steel drum and I have... “ She frowned as she was trying and failing to envision her drum kit in her head. “How many drums do I have? I can’t remember.”

“More than one, in any case,” Orion laughed and extended his hand towards her empty glass. “You go think about that, and I’ll get you a refill.”

Lizzie was quicker though, snatching the glass out of his reach and getting up. “Don’t worry, I can go myself.”

She walked towards the skylight leading back into the flat but had underestimated the effect of both the drugs and the alcohol on her body. Shaking her head a little, Lizzie took a moment to steady herself.

Just when she thought she had found her balance again, her foot caught in the wire of one of the fairy lights. She stumbled forward with a jolt, ripping the plug right out of its socket and plunging a good portion of the rooftop into darkness.

Luckily for her, Orion didn’t feel the effects of their smoke as much as she did. His reaction time was still quick enough to catch her before she could hit the ground. She could hear the breath leaving his lungs as she collided with his chest; at least he was softer than the floorboards would have been.

He laughed as she straightened up again. “Careful, drummer girl, that was close.”

Lizzie tilted her head as she looked up at him curiously. “You’re close.”

Only now realising their position, Orion mumbled an apology and started to move away from her but Lizzie was quicker. She had already scrambled up onto the seat next to him, still feeling a little dizzy. Her feet were resting on the arm of the lounge chair, her legs lying draped across Orion’s thighs.

“No, it’s alright,” she giggled and leaned against him, “you’re more comfortable than my chair anyway.”

Leaning towards the table to retrieve Orion’s glass, Lizzie’ head started spinning again and she had to grip his shoulder for support. She was glad when she felt Orion’s arm come around her back for added support.

“And besides,” she held the glass up triumphantly before bringing it to her lips, “that way, it’s easier to share this.”

They were sitting like that for a while, Lizzie leaning against Orion’s chest, her head nestled into the crook of his neck, while he had his arms around her. The music she had been hearing earlier was still playing, faintly carrying up towards them. Lizzie had her eyes closed, alternating between listening to the upbeat melody and the calm rhythm of Orion’s heartbeat.

Now that she was relaxing, she became increasingly aware of the combined effects of the many glasses of wine and the spliff they had relit again. She felt as if she was floating through a haze on the soft sound of the steel drums, as if she could fly right into the night sky until she was surrounded by a glittering sea of stars.

The only thing anchoring her was Orion, the steady rising and falling of his chest, the ends of his hair brushing against her cheek when he moved, the touch of his fingers against hers when he handed her back the wine they were sharing.

Her head was spinning and she hooked her finger underneath one of Orion’s woven bracelets, as if the physical holding on to him could prevent the rooftop from revolving around her. The breathy sigh leaving her lips turned into a giggle.

“I don’t know what you’ve put in that stuff but, damn, it packs a punch.”

Orion chuckled, the hand around her back playing with a strand of her ponytail; she had to laugh as he tickled her neck with the ends of it. “There’s nothing out of the ordinary in there.”

She leaned a little away from him so as to better see his face. “So, what is it? Spill it!”

His smile turned into a smirk. “Who am I to tell you all my secrets? A little mystery only adds to the fun.”

Intrigued by his evasiveness, Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?”

A curious expression flickered over Orion’s face for a moment. “Maybe.”

“Whatever it is, it’s thoroughly wrecking me,” Lizzie declared; that didn’t stop her from taking another sip of wine, however.

She could hear the laughter ringing in Orion’s voice. “That’s got less to do with the grass and more with all that wine. And the fact that you’re really, really small.”

“I’m not really, really small!” Lizzie replied indignantly.

“Of course you are, look at you; you’re basically a midget.”

Lizzie shoved him playfully, trying to keep a straight face but failing. “I’m not a midget and I’m not small!”

Orion caught her hand without so much as an effort. “Just look at you, you could wear my sweater as a dress.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m the perfect size.”

There it was again, that curious expression Lizzie had seen just a moment before. A crooked smile appeared on Orion’s face as his eyes flickered from her face over the rest of her body.

“I can hardly argue with that.”

Lizzie regarded him for a moment, trying to take his measure. The mood had shifted from the relaxed cuddle they’d shared into something entirely different. There was a sudden tension hanging in the air that made Lizzie’s skin tingle and she was sure that it had nothing to do with either the grass or the alcohol.

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Is that so?”

She leaned forward again to put the wine glass away, using the momentum to shift her position. Turning slightly, she straddled Orion’s thighs, one arm resting lightly on his shoulder.

His dark eyes followed her every movement as she plucked the joint from his lips, gave it one slow, deliberate drag before putting it out against the wall, never breaking their eye contact. Holding the smoke inside her mouth for one long moment, she dipped her head back and blew it against the night sky. When she looked back at Orion again, his eyes on her were intense, making a shiver run down her spine. His hands were holding her hips, waiting on what she would do. Her lips curved into a smirk as she leaned in, her lips close to his ear.

“Only one way to find out.”

There was nothing hesitant about the way their lips found each other for the first time. Lizzie could taste the same fruity sweetness of the wine on his lips that was still hanging on hers.

Orion’s grip on her waist intensified and she could feel the rough skin of his hands as they found their way underneath her shirt, his fingers feeling deliciously cool against her heated skin. Her breath accelerated as their kiss deepend, her lips parting willingly as Orion’s tongue brushed against her lower lip.

She buried her hands in his long hair, as he pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together as closely as their position would allow. A low moan left Orion’s lips as she softly pulled at his hair, the movement of his head following her lead as he dipped it back into his neck.

Breaking their kiss, Lizzie’s lips started moving over his cheek to his jawline, her breath ghosting over his bare neck. She could see the goosebumps on his skin and feel his fingers dig into her waist as she teasingly ran her tongue over his collarbone. He sucked in his breath in surprise as her teeth nipped the sensitive skin and Lizzie couldn’t help but grin as her lips travelled upwards again.

Capturing his lips in another searing kiss, Lizzie’s breath hitched as his hands were sliding down from her waist over her hips. They came to rest on her bum, squeezing it tightly for a moment. She could feel his jeans becoming tighter as she ran her hand over him, coaxing another moan from his mouth. The sound made the heat spread from her stomach through her chest and into the rest of her body; she wanted to hear more of that.

Her fingers started working to undo his belt when he suddenly stopped her, gently pulling her hand away. Her eyes flew towards his face, a crease appearing on her brow.

“You not okay with this?”

Orion’s eyes were sparkling as he pulled her in for another kiss that took her breath away. When he pulled back, Lizzie’s head was spinning.

“Let’s take this inside,” he muttered into her ear. His voice sounded a lot deeper than what she was used to and she shuddered in anticipation.

Lizzie reluctantly climbed off him to let him get up. Orion couldn’t resist kissing her again, as he walked past her. Taking her hand, he pulled her towards the skylight that led down into the darkness of his flat. He climbed down the steps without a moment of hesitation; Lizzie, however, had to channel her concentration on something different than the burning need to feel Orion’s hands on her skin before tackling the unfamiliar steps.

And sure enough, two steps down, she misplaced her foot and felt herself falling for a moment. But for the second time that evening Orion was there, his hands providing her with something to hold onto.

Standing on the steps, Lizzie was a little taller than him. She gave in to the urge to pull him towards her and steal another kiss from him. His hands ran over her exposed thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Lizzie’s muscles tensed when he lifted her off the stairs, her legs wrapping around his midsection as he carried her over to his bed with a few short steps.

He lowered her down onto it and got rid of his shirt. There was no light in the room except for what was falling through the windows from the streetlights outside, but it was enough for Lizzie to see all of the countless tattoos decorating his skin, all the thoughtful quotes and intricate patterns.

She propped herself up on her elbows, locking eyes with him as he joined her on the bed. Reaching for his belt again, this time Orion let her undo it without objection. The deep moan she drew from him as she ran her hand over him a second time made her breathing speed up as well.

Much to her surprise, now that they’d changed location, their roles had reversed themselves. Where Lizzie had been in charge up on the rooftop, it was all she could do to keep her wits together as Orion let his hands roam her body.

The sweater she had still been wearing went almost instantly, quickly followed by her shirt and her shorts. Lizzie closed her eyes and held her breath as Orion worked his way from her lips over her neck, trailing kisses down between her breasts, lingering there for a sweet moment before moving on even lower. His soft lips combined with the bite of his beard almost drove her insane, but Lizzie just so managed to pull herself together.

Pushing him off her, she used his moment of confusion to flip him over, straddling him again. She shuddered at the feeling of him through her pants but pushed the thought aside; not just yet.

“Did you really think I was going to make this so easy for you?” she purred as she twirled his necklace around her finger. She smirked as she slightly repositioned herself on top of him, creating a delicious friction between them that had not only Orion exhale very slowly.

Lizzie pulled her hair tie out, enjoying the tickle as her light brown curls fell down beneath her shoulder blades. She bent forward to kiss Orion again, but he was simply staring at her.

“What?” she asked with a slight chuckle.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, brushing her hair that had fallen over her shoulder and was almost reaching his bare chest out of her face. Lizzie enjoyed the light pull as he raked his fingers through her mane. “So damn fucking beautiful.”

Lizzie felt a smile form on her lips before she kissed him, teasingly biting his lip. She could feel Orion’s hand wandering up her bare back to where her bra was still hooked. With a practised movement that didn’t surprise her in the least, he undid the clasp and Lizzie shrugged it off. The cool air coming in from the still open skylight hit her bare breasts and made her shiver from more than cold.

Orion’s hands danced over her thighs and up her sides until they found her breasts. Lizzie shuddered as his fingers grazed her sensitive spot at their base, her eyes closed to enjoy the sensation fully, when he suddenly stopped.

Opening her eyes again, she saw a curious look forming on his face as he turned her slightly so the light would better shine on her. Lizzie chuckled to herself; she knew exactly what he was so surprised to see.

“I never knew you had a tattoo,” Orion said, his eyes wandering over the black writing.

He traced his fingers over the inked words sneaking over her ribcage to the base of her breasts; the touch of his calloused fingertips made her sigh.

“You recognise the words?” she whispered with a smile, running her hand over one of Orion’s own tattoos on his chest.

“Unbounded like water, burning like wildfire,” he smiled, “of course I do; I wrote them after all. I had no idea you had them inked.”

She smiled back at him; the quote was taken out of one of her favourite songs Orion had ever written. “They’ve pulled at something in me ever since I heard them for the first time. I wanted to carry them with me wherever I go.”

A series of different emotions flickered over Orion’s face, much too quick for Lizzie to distinguish in the half-light of the room. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her, keeping her close. He kissed her with a passion that took her breath away.

“I want you,” he whispered into her ear, his voice low and husky in his throat, making Lizzie draw a shivering breath as she leaned her forehead against his.

“Then come and take me.”

It was all Orion needed to hear. He let himself fall back onto the bed, drawing her down with him. Their lips met in a passionate kiss before he flipped them around, so he was on top of her.

His head dipped against her shoulder as Lizzie reached down, tracing the edge of his boxers before her fingers disappeared beneath it. She ran them up and down his length, noting how his breath hitched, his arms tensing around her as she worked against him.

He stopped her after a few more strokes and moved away from her hand. Repaying her in kind, he ran his fingers over her pants, so very slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as she moaned at his touch. Hooking his fingers underneath the fabric, he pulled them off, leaving her fully exposed to him, but there wasn’t a single moment Lizzie felt vulnerable at all.

She gasped as Orion began to touch her properly; the touch of his rough fingertips was surprisingly soft, and combined with the trail of kisses he left on her hot skin, he made her feel like she was on fire. Her breathing strained, she managed to rasp out his name just before she would lose it completely.

Never stopping the movement of his hand, Orion looked up at her with a wicked grin on his lips.

“Anything the matter?”

All she wanted was to feel him by now but her words died on her lips as Orion slightly twisted his hand, making her inhale sharply.

With a low chuckle he withdrew his hand, making her miss his touch immediately. That short moment of regret was instantly forgotten when she felt Orion position himself before slowly pushing inside her.

For a fraction of a second, the reality that she was sleeping with one of her best friends hovered on the border of Lizzie’s mind, threatening to hit her; but when Orion started moving against her, their bodies instantly found a common rhythm. They were in tune with each other from the very first moment, all thoughts forgotten.

Their ragged breaths, her sweet sighs and his deep moans were a music of their own. Lizzie had her legs wrapped around Orion, her nails digging into his forearms; she could feel his muscles working underneath her fingers as he supported his weight with his arms. Even through the haze of her drunk and drugged mind, she was impressed with how flawlessly they were working together; his body against hers was feeling so incredibly natural, like they were meant to be that way.

She had no idea how, but just like before, Orion managed to hit all the right spots at the same time. Lizzie had trouble focusing on anything but the fire building inside her. She couldn’t form a coherent thought anymore, wasn’t able to think any further than the next breath, the next shock of pleasure Orion sent through her body as they moved.

Feeling she was almost there, her hold on him tightened as he picked up the pace, shifting slightly to take a little strain off his arms. Taken by surprise at the suddenly different angle, digging her fingers into Orion’s shoulders was all Lizzie could do as her high crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her body shook as she buried her face against Orion’s chest, clinging to him as if for dear life.

Hearing his name fall from her lips in a broken moan with her nails biting into his back, Orion couldn’t last much longer either. Their rhythm became an off-beat one, his movements more erratic than before. Lizzie could feel the muscles in his back tremble as he rode out his own high. His head dipped into the crook of her neck as both their breathings were starting to slow.

Orion stayed on top of her for a moment longer and kissed her one last time before pushing himself off of her. Lizzie breathed in deeply, running her hand over her tangled hair.

“Huh,” she chuckled, “who would’ve thought.”

“Who indeed,” Orion smirked.

The sizzling tension between them from before was gone and it just felt like it had always done between them; relaxed, familiar and completely natural.

They looked at each other for a moment before simultaneously bursting into laughter, nothing more than friends again, the sound carrying through the dark, out of the window and into the black night sky.

#hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #rockstar au #orion amari #lizzie jameson #lizion #when stars ignite #wsi #besties collaborate #so much for me saying I'll never write smut for my ocs

[jeongyunhoed]

Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: SuperM hello. Also, sexc car chase scene with Yeosang driving. This hasn’t been proofread much, so sorry for the errors you might see.

Listen to: Dark - Hans Zimmer 

Masterlist

Chapter 4

Yeosang glanced over at Mirae, who was still blankly staring out the window. She had been that way in the first few hours of the drive. He wouldn’t admit it, at least right away, but with the silence coming from her, Yeosang was even more convinced that she was that sad. Dare he say it, he was beginning to feel a little concerned yet knew that sometimes the polite thing to do was not to say anything about it. The music playing on the radio acted as white noise between them, and Yeosang was hardly even listening to the songs. 

Mirae looked down at her hands, feeling the deck of playing cards in her jean pocket. She barely had time to think about how expensive the clothes she was wearing were - Yeosang’s excuse was that the Dior boutique was the nearest. Mirae wanted to scoff right then and there, but she was impressed at how he got her clothes that fit her. 

Her thoughts were going back to how she left Yunho. How she left him unconscious in Yeosang’s apartment while hoping San got to him, or anyone at least. A feeling of guilt was setting inside even in the midst of the overwhelming feelings of sadness and rage. Was it even possible to feel like this? She wasn’t sure. “How did you meet them?” She suddenly asked. 

“Who, my dear?” 

“The one you’re taking me to.” 

“It’s not just one person. They’re a small group of people, people like us,” Yeosang replied, glancing at her from time to time as they entered a flyover, cars intersecting above and below them. “They felt they were above the place we lived in, so they uh, how should I say it? Created their own little world.” 

“So how did you meet them?” 

“I met them through another immortal. His name is Mark Lee. I’ve known him for centuries. We were rivals for the affections of Emperor Octavian’s daughter, Julia. Amazing woman in every way possible,” A smirk crept up on Yeosang’s lips as he remembered. “I nearly became an emperor if Mark hadn’t intruded that one night.” 

“To this day, I still don’t know how old you actually are.” 

Yeosang chuckled. “My dear Mirae, age is not important, especially my age. When I met Mark again, in recent… shall we day, decades? Or at least some few years ago, he introduced me to a group of mutants he was friends with. Some of them are quite powerful, one of them, I think, is an omega-level mutant like you.” 

“I guessed as much, if they thought they were so superior,” Mirae looked out the window. 

“We’ll see about that. Sometimes, mutants only intimidate others just by mentioning their powers, empty threats even though they could deliver on it, lessens the dirty work but it gets into their heads,” Yeosang said. Glancing at the rearview mirrors, he noticed three black cars in a formation behind them. “My dear, if you could assist me a little bit, I think we are being followed.” 

Mirae looked over her seat at the three cars that seemed to move closer while Yeosang kept his foot on the gas to drive faster. “I wonder who they could be,” She watched for any signs of movement from the driver’s seats. Mirae saw a set of small rockets come out from the lights on the bumper. “They plan to kill us. Do you know them?” 

“No I don’t, I promise you,” Yeosang swerved a few times past several cars only for the three black sedans to be able to keep up. 

Mirae shook her head at the sight of the sedans keeping up, one of which was already across from them. There were spikes that extended from the rims of the wheels. The car bumped into them, Mirae clutching the armrest. “They plan on destroying your car while they’re at it,” She said, her eyes glowing red as she stared at the car next to them. The tires exploded, sending the car skidding, the rear hitting their vehicle. 

“Damn,” Yeosang kept the car in its lane. “Very good, my dear Mirae. Perhaps you can do something about the other two?” He said, swerving several times so as not to bump into the cars surrounding them to get ahead. 

Mirae took out one card from her pocket and threw it as hard as she could at the other sedan that caught up to them. The sedan exploded, the impact of the explosion moving them forward. “If they’re your friend’s bodyguards, then I think they don’t want us coming,” She said, her eyes still glowing. “Not that I care.” 

She eyed the remaining black sedan that was following them that launched a rocket. Mirae looked at both the rocket and the car, both exploding in the middle of the road. The remaining cars began to cluster towards them. “Apparently, they were everywhere all along. The way must be heavily guarded, or that they don’t want us going,” Yeosang glanced at the rearview mirrors. 

Mirae stayed still, staring at all the cars in front of them. Her eyes were glowing brighter than ever as she kept her gaze on them, the vehicles exploding one by one. She glanced at the rearview mirror on her side, the cars behind them exploding one by one as well, the smoke from the explosions blocking their view of the road. 

“Thank you, my dear,” Yeosang drove on through the thick smoke in the air. “All this smoke means we’re getting close.” 

The color of the smoke changed from the usual gray and black to white as he moved forward. The glow in Mirae’s eyes faded just as the smoke began to fade, only to see that their surroundings had changed. 

Past the wide roads of the highway, they were at the entrance of a dreary lakeside village. “This is where they live?” Mirae glanced at him. 

Yeosang chuckled. “No, they live up there,” He pointed to the nearby cliff. There was a white mansion molded in the usual 1930s art deco style that Mirae noticed in the immortal mutant’s apartment. 

Mirae noticed that the residents in the village seemed to dress differently, as if wearing different variations of the hanbok. The anger seeped in again, knowing that they were approaching the home of who may have been behind the explosion of the Danger Room, behind the deaths of Chanyeol and Hyuk. Yeosang drove on, down the route of the mansion’s driveway, the sight of the house growing bigger and bigger until they finally approached the gate. 

Two guards were standing by and stopped them. “Name?” They asked. 

“Kang Yeosang and Lee Mirae. One of them is expecting me by now,” Yeosang replied. 

The gates opened on its own and the guards stood by for their vehicle to enter the grounds. As soon as they pulled up, they saw someone standing by the front doors, dressed undoubtedly like he owned the place, but also that he was strikingly handsome. One half of his coiffed hair was blonde, the other side was red. His eye on the blonde side was also blue, the other a dark brown. He was smiling as they pulled up, opening Mirae’s door. 

“Hello,” He said as she got out, taking her hand and kissing it. 

“Taeyong, quite a greeting you’ve got there,” Yeosang pointed out, tossing the key to the valet. 

The male with the name turned to Mirae again. “Forgive my manners, or lack of. I’m Lee Taeyong and I own this house. It’s nice to meet you at last.” 

Lee Taeyong was an omega-level mutant like Mirae. Taeyong was an omega-level psychic that could not only read minds, but could also control a person’s mind and manipulate their memories. Taeyong also had the extraordinary gift of turning into organic diamond, making him almost invulnerable to harm and giving him added strength and a psychic shield. However, Taeyong’s limitation was the fact that he could not use his telepathy while he was in his diamond form.

Mirae glanced at Yeosang and before she could speak, he shook his head. “It’s not him you’re going to see,” He advised. 

Taeyong smirked. “You must be jumping for joy now that you’re on a drive with the apple of your eye,” He glanced at Yeosang. Turning back to Mirae, he let go of her hand. “That’s what he was thinking. He thinks very loudly.” 

“My thoughts are not for you to read, Taeyongie, as I’m sure your brother has taught you that much. Taemin, where is he?” Yeosang asked. 

“He’s attending a business meeting. He won’t be here until tonight. But Mark is here, I guess you haven’t seen him in a while,” Taeyong replied. “Come in, come in, I can’t read your thoughts but I can read his and I know who you plan on seeing. Don’t bother taking off your shoes in the main area.” 

He turned around to lead them inside. The interiors were decorated in shades of black, gold, and white on marble similar to Yeosang’s home. Mirae and Yeosang followed him further down the hall and they stopped in front of two mahogany doors. “At least one of us couldn’t be read,” She muttered to him. 

Taeyong opened the doors, leading into what looked like a parlor, with red velvet couches and chintz chairs, mahogany chests of drawers in the same art deco style, and a crystal chandelier in the ceiling. They saw two people by the fireplace drinking champagne in crystal flutes, watching a drama on a tv that was placed above the mantle. Mirae felt her heart drop as the two figures, whose backs were turned, looked familiar.

“They’re here,” Taeyong announced, making the two people turn around. 

Mirae’s eyes widened, looking like a deer caught in the headlights upon seeing their faces. “...Baekhyun? … Jongin?” 

The shorter and paler of the two, Baekhyun, smiled. “Mirae, Mirae, Mirae, long time no see,” He said.

Byun Baekhyun was skilled in manipulating and creating light and light energy. Baekhyun was also skilled in hand-to-hand combat, specializing in hapkido. Kim Jongin had the ability to teleport, leaving a wisp of black smoke in his wake.

“It’s been years, hasn’t it?” Jongin spoke this time, approaching her. “You look like you’ve been through a lot.” 

Mirae still couldn’t speak. She was too stunned to utter a word. All this time, Baekhyun and Jongin survived the Seoul attack but had never made themselves known. “Hello to you too, Yeosang,” He glanced at the vampiric-looking mutant, who nodded. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” He said to Mirae. 

“I couldn’t blame her, we haven’t exactly seen her since that day,” Jongin patted her shoulder. “Do you like our new place? It’s not underground like the Center, but it’s here in this little village, it’s cozy,” He gestured for her to sit down while they did the same. “Mark’s here too, by the way, he’s probably off playing tennis or something.” 

“So, what brings both of you here? I doubt it’s because the weather’s nice in this place,” Baekhyun poured her a glass of champagne. Mirae quietly accepted the drink, staring at the bubbles. 

“Don’t act clueless, you know why they’re here,” Taeyong chimed in, giving the elder a look.

“Taeyong, it’s rude to read other people’s minds without their permission,” Baekhyun chided. “Even if I already know, it doesn’t hurt to ask to make sure. They might be misleading you, even in that respect.” 

“I don’t have the capability to be paranoid when I can read everything like an open book,” Taeyong rolled his eyes. “Dinner is already prepared, by the way, I’ll call Mark-” 

He stepped back when out of thin air appeared Mark himself. Unlike Baekhyun, Jongin, and Taeyong, Mark was dressed in a pinstripe suit. Yeosang’s expression stiffened upon seeing him. Mark Lee was, like Yeosang, an immortal mutant whose fortune over the centuries led him to own a business empire that had bases in both South Korea and Canada. Mark had the ability to teleport anywhere and everywhere he chose while also possessing a strong telepathic ability. Mark was also considered a doctor among his peers who studied Languages though he barely put that knowledge of his to the test as he usually tackled his businesses. 

“No need,” Mark said, stopping at the sight of Mirae and Yeosang. “Brought her here to meet them, ‘Sang?” He asked. 

“As a matter of fact, I did. Ruined anyone’s pursuits lately, Mark?” Yeosang shot at him, watching him take Mirae’s hand and gently kiss the back of it in greeting. 

“As long as it’s your pursuits, which I can tell is this lovely woman in front of me,” Mark said. 

“I’m taken,” Mirae pointed out.

Mark glanced at Yeosang. “Oh? You have pursued her? This is going to be fun.” 

Mirae pulled her hand back, seeing Baekhyun and Jongin’s amused expressions. “I’m guessing you’ve been living your lives here all this time,” She said. 

“Well, yeah, since the Seoul attack,” Baekhyun nodded. “Before you two arrived, we were all discussing a business venture we were looking to carry out in the capital. Maybe you could help us out, Yeosang?”

“Me?” 

“Yeah, Mark and Taeyong have the capital to build it on, maybe some added manpower would help make the project solid. Let’s talk about this over dinner,” Baekhyun said, gesturing to the doors. Mark disappeared in an instant. 

~ 

The dining room of the mansion had a view of what was outside. Yeosang and Mirae noticed that it had gotten much darker, realizing how late it was getting. Mirae still couldn’t believe that Baekhyun and Jongin were alive all this time, that they actually survived the explosion from the Seoul attack, the impact caused by her own powers. She was still trying to process this new situation. 

Could they have been the ones who tampered with the Danger Room? The question reminded her of why she was there, having dinner with them, with other mutants who were also quite powerful, especially psychics as powerful as them. Mirae could only hope that Yunho would be able to read her mind at the moment, so he would know where they were. 

“So, as I was saying earlier, Jongin, Taeyong, Mark, and I are looking into setting up a new business venture and Yeosang may be able to give it the added credibility it needs,” Baekhyun broke the momentary lull when everyone else tucked into the food. Mirae poked around the courses on her plate as she listened. 

“Is that what you’ve been up to since the Seoul attack?” Mirae asked, glancing at him from time to time. 

“Yeah, killing monsters and aliens wasn’t fun for me anymore, I’m sure you understand that,” Baekhyun smiled. “Knowing that Taeyong, his brother Taemin, and Mark are businessmen, when Jongin and I found each other and in turn found them, the business world seemed a little more interesting.” 

“What kind of venture is it?” Yeosang asked. “I’d like to know what it is before I make any deal.” 

“It’s called Project Apocalypse,” Baekhyun said with a grin on his face. “Project Apocalypse is going to be the next big thing among mutants and non-mutants.”

“It’s more of a think-tank. People come to us for answers, we give them the answers,” Jongin added. 

“What kind of answers would those be?” Yeosang asked in between a sip of wine. 

“Political answers, mostly, economic answers, diplomatic answers, you name it,” Mark replied. “You and I both have the experience for that. Didn’t you meet the adviser to Chun Doohwan during the uprising?” 

“I have. I killed her,” Yeosang replied, both Baekhyun and Jongin looking surprised at how nonchalant he was about it. 

“She could’ve been useful to us, you know,” Mark said. “Oh right, I see. You killed her because she was trying to get to Mirae over here,” He added, having read his thoughts. 

Mirae sighed and ate a forkful of her salad instead. “You know, Mark and I can read everyone’s minds here, except for her. Why is that?” Taeyong raised a brow. 

“Psychic shield, Taeyongie. I remember Junhong telling us about it when we first started training,” Baekhyun chuckled, glancing at her. “If you can’t read her mind, her psychic shield must be that strong.” 

“We can’t read everyone after all, it would be too easy if we could,” Mark chimed in. 

“How is Junhong, by the way? Has he been well? He’s alive, isn’t he?” Jongin asked her. 

“Very well. Fixed my staff the first time we met again. He’s fixed a lot of other things, sometimes without me knowing,” Mirae replied. 

“The three of you go a long while back and yet you’re acting like you don’t know each other,” Taeyong chuckled in his place. 

“It has been a while since we last saw each other. We did, however, spend a few years together in the Center for Paranormal Research,” Baekhyun nodded, finishing the food on his plate. “I remember it was me, you, Minseok hyung, and Tao that were put forward because of our fighting skills.” 

“Do you have any idea what happened to them?” Mirae asked. 

“No idea. I thought I was the only one left, until I saw Jongin from the corner of the street, teleporting out of that place in time,” Baekhyun glanced at her. “I guess the same could be said of you.” 

“Yeah, and Hyuk, and Chanyeol. Remember them?” 

He smiled. “Why don’t we go take a walk? Just us, you can play catch up with Jongin after,” Baekhyun suggested. 

“Yeah, I’ll tell you more about Project Apocalypse after we pitch the idea to Yeosang over here,” Jongin nodded eagerly, exchanging knowing looks with the older male. 

Baekhyun and Mirae got up from their seats. Mirae eyed Yeosang, who had a look of concern all over his face at the suggestion. She followed him towards the patio doors and out into the well-manicured backyard of the mansion that had a swimming pool with a diving board and several patio chairs. The question was still nagging at Mirae as a silence came between them while they walked along the cemented areas of the estate. “To answer your question, I do remember them. Vividly, actually,” He said. “The tall dope and the guy I remember you used to like but is also your best friend.” 

“Years have gone by since the Seoul attack,” Mirae said. 

“I know. It changed everything. It changed everyone. You with that streak in your hair, still playing with the same stick you always used to lug around. It’s almost like a part of you, isn’t it? That staff of yours?” Baekhyun said. 

“I never leave without it. Even when I go to work, it’s with me,” She pointed out. 

Baekhyun nodded. “I see. No matter how much has changed, you still seem to be the same person. It didn’t help that when Professor Jang died, Ino took charge and started to play favorites.” 

“You were one of them, Baek,” She said carefully, remembering the nickname he would often go by. 

“That I am, Tao too. Minseok hyung too. We were like, how should I say it? Like the four horsemen of the apocalypse. We led the fighting for the rest of them,” Baekhyun grinned as he remembered. “Too bad things went the way it did, otherwise we’d all still be there, cooped up underground with all of those simulations.” 

“That’s a memorial now. A lot of things happened since then, at least to me,” Mirae recalled everything, feeling her heart sink further upon remembering Jihoon, then Hyuk and Chanyeol. 

They stopped in front of a ceramic bust perched on top of a small pillar. Baekhyun looked up. “What brings you here, then? You didn’t know I was alive, much less Jongin.” 

“I came here because Yeosang told me I’d find answers here,” Mirae replied. “Chanyeol and Hyuk are dead now, and I find out that the Danger Room was tampered with leading to them dying. I’m trying to find out who did it and why.” 

Baekhyun smiled. “I knew you were going to say that. Actually, Taeyong knew just by reading Yeosang’s thoughts over there. He was thinking of what you were going to find out upon coming here. I can hear him telling me now. Yeosang’s looking out for you, he’s kind of worried about what you will know, and how you’ll react when it’s all revealed.” 

“You know who did it, didn’t you?” Mirae stared at him. “All this time, you were alive and you never meant to make contact? Not even with Junhong? You didn’t even bother to look for us in the places you figured we’d be?”

The male chuckled. “For a trained assassin like yourself, you’re getting pretty bad at stealth, aren’t you? I’ve come across you quite a few times since then, but you never saw me, much less took notice of me.” 

She raised a brow. “Well I never got any message from you. Not even a hi or a hello.” 

Baekhyun shook his head. He leaned closer with a satisfied look on his face. “No, no, no. My way of making contact with you was through the tragedies you have experienced. Jihoon, and now Chanyeol and Hyuk. To be honest, I was surprised at how I managed to hit two birds with one stone with both of them. The tall dope and the music producer.” 

“What do you mean?” Mirae had a feeling she knew what he was about to say. 

“It was all me, Mirae. Jihoon’s death, Chanyeol’s death, and Hyuk’s death? It was all me,” Baekhyun revealed calmly. “I am the author of all your pain, of all the grieving you were and still are doing.”

Mirae stared at him, feeling a chill down her spine at the revelation. “Jihoon was killed by those Utopian cult thugs.” 

He shook his head. “I had a little help. I met Mark around that time, and when I told him what I wanted to do, he gladly possessed the body of the man who pulled the trigger on your dear friend, the friend you thought of as a brother,” He explained. 

Mirae was still staring at him, as if prompting him to continue explaining. “Jongin, you know, of course, teleported me there once Taeyong found out the location of the so-called safehouse you put up, saw that Junhong was creating a simulation room like the one we used to have. With his help as well, I was able to make a few adjustments like rerouting some circuits to overload,” 

“I was actually thinking of getting Chanyeol first, out of sentimental reasons. I knew him longer than Hyuk, so naturally I thought he should get the first strike. Little did I know,” Baekhyun smirked. “It would get Hyuk too. I doubt Junhong had a clue that the systems were hacked. Taeyong and his brother run a tech empire.” 

She could feel her eyes well with tears at the explanations, the tension she was feeling slowly getting replaced by sadness and rage. “It was you all this time. Why? Why are you doing it?” She asked. 

“Because I wanted you to know the pain and grief I felt after that attack happened,” Baekhyun replied, looking her in the eye. “My family thought I was dead when that came in. I was thrown into the ocean from the explosion you caused. They had given up on searching for me, in turn, they gave my brother all the money that was meant for me. Knowing you made the final blow to those goblins, all of the trouble I experienced, I knew I had to make you pay.” 

Mirae looked away, fighting back the urge to break down the more Baekhyun talked. He sounded so satisfied. “And now you’re all alone, Lee Mirae. And you know the best part?” He tilted his head as he looked at her. “Ino knew all this time. Ino knew it was me. Yet he allowed it to happen anyway.”

#kdiner #ficscafe #ateez #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #ateez timestamps #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #yunho #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yeosang #kang yeosang #ateez yeosang #san #choi san #ateez san #mingi #song mingi #ateez mingi #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #jongho #choi jongho #ateez jongho

[deja-you]

The RMS Titanic (and other ships that pass in the night)

t. jefferson x reader

part two | the bathroom rendez-vous

summary: you know your relationship with Thomas will only be a fleeting memory, but you allow your lives to collide nonetheless.

word count: 1k

masterlist | series masterlist | previous | next

Lightning strikes about a month after your first encounter.  You’ve decided to pin your hair back on this particular day, but you’re already regretting this when you feel the pin slipping out before your first class even starts. If you needed a miniscule reason to have a bad day, this is it.

Slipping into the bathroom, you plan on fixing your hair quickly and moving on with your life. After a few attempts (you think you’re on attempt #7 now), you’re ready to give up. One more try, you tell yourself. It’s on attempt #8 that the bathroom door swings open.

It’s a public restroom, but you still jump a little at the intrusion. Your wide eyes meet a pair of dark brown eyes. The legs that were supporting you mere seconds ago now feel like jelly and your tongue feels swollen in your mouth. He wears the same smirk he gave you the first time you had seen him, and it makes you weak.

“This is the… you shouldn’t be…” you stumble over your words and he just continues to smile.

He takes in your appearance, shamelessly raking his eyes over your rumpled frame, and casually leans against the door. He raises an eyebrow at you and finishes your sentence. “I shouldn’t be in the men’s bathroom?”

It takes you all of ten seconds to observe the silhouette on the door, the urinals on side wall, and the fact that the layout of the bathroom is completely flipped compared to the bathroom you’re used to. He might’ve chuckled quietly, but you’re busy dying of embarrassment to even notice.

“I thought this was…” you don’t have to finish the sentence for the both of you to know what you thought it was. You’re more cognizant this time to hear his soft laughter.

He doesn’t tease you any further for your mistake (a fact which you’re grateful for). He shrugs like this is a common occurrence to him. The back of your neck feels hot and your hands feel sweaty. You brave another look at him.

“I should go,” you say.

He takes a step forward only to lean up against the sink and pull out a pack of cigarettes from his backpack. “If you’ve got some place to be, go ahead. I just came in for a cigarette. Wouldn’t mind the company.”

You’re staring at him with wide eyes, but you don’t make a move for the door, so he offers you a cigarette. You don’t know what else to do, so you accept his offer and bring the cigarette to your lips. He pulls out a lighter and you have to lean in closer to him (not that you mid) so he can light you.

“I’m Thomas Jefferson,” he casually introduces himself between puffs.

It occurs to you that neither of you have actually been introduced to the other before, a fact you’re aware of, but one that you haven’t really thought of. He’s so familiar to you, you’re caught off guard by the realization that you don’t actually know him. You mumble your name back to him, and he removes the cigarette from his lips for a moment to test what your name feels like in his mouth. You decide you like the way he says it.

“Nice to meet you,” he says.

You want to respond with a similar pleasantry, but with the luck you’re having today, you inhale to much smoke and send yourself into a coughing fit. Way to make an impression. He waits patiently for your lungs to go through it, trying not to laugh at your embarrassment.

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” you say, putting out the cigarette and throwing it away.

Thomas nods and puts out his own cigarette in solidarity. “Yes, cigarettes are terribly unhealthy, aren’t they?”

He condemns them so earnestly, as if he hadn’t been indulging in one a few moments prior. Definitely a politician’s son, you think to yourself.

You might just voice your opinion to him, but you’re not given the chance when the both of you hear the bathroom door begin to swing open. Without thought, Thomas grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into a bathroom stall. He helps you stand on top of the toilet seat just in case someone notices two pairs of shoes (you can’t help but think how unsanitary this is, but you know this probably isn’t the worst thing that’s happened in the boys’ bathroom).

Thomas and you are doing your best to remain quiet, and you notice that he still hasn’t let go of your wrist. He follows your gaze down to where he’s gripping your wrist and lets go. You can still feel his hands on your skin like a ghost. Thomas meets your eyes, and the ridiculousness of the situation gets to you. You’re smiling and doing your best to smother laughter. He raises an eyebrow, but your smile is contagious and now he’s grinning, too.

You pause for a moment when he reaches his hand up to your hair. Thomas plucks the pin that you were warring with earlier out of your hair and turns it over in his hand. His other hand moves your hair out of your face, and then he’s situated the pin perfectly into place.

All of this happens in silence – more or less. You watch his every move like it’s the climax of a play; you can’t take your eyes off him. His fingers are long and surprisingly nimble. You’re certain that he could hold all of you in his hands. You think you want him to.

After a quiet eternity, the intruder (you question who’s really the intruder in the boys’ bathroom) leaves and you let out a sigh of relief. Thomas slides the lock off the stall, and the two of you are once again free. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror, and you decide that you like your hair like this.

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist !

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#thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson imagine #thomasjefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #dark academia au #modern au #hamilton fanfic #hamilton x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs x reader #thomas jefferson fic #thomas jefferson fanfic #marquis de lafayette #lafayette imagine #lafayette fic #lafayette x reder #x reader #reader insert

[spirit-of-vengeance]

@spxcemuses @mr-mansnoozie @xxstar-bluesxx

Guess who gathered enough mind to finally write her full backstory of Western Verse. Her being a bounty hunter is set in the Wild West time period (1865-1895), there is no current year(s) to set her story in mainly because I don't want to make a mistake messing up the timeline.

Calm before the storm

Her father, Attila a lesser Hungarian noble whom supported the 1848-1849 revolutionary war but after the failure of it he escaped emigrated to America to avoid the Habsburg revenge, soon followed by his brother Gábor. He could save a small amount of his fortune along with his two most important horses: a purebred Lipizzan stallion and an extremely rare Akhal Teke mare. He had settled near a small town, due to his financial situation and education as a noble he established a school with the support and approval of the local church. To quieten his guilt for abandoning his country in its peril, he poured all of his heart into educating children; at least he is still useful in some way.

One day, a group of artists traveling artists, acrobats traveled through the town and the aristocrat fell in love at first sight. She was like the queen of fairy from the folk tales he'd heard in his childhood, she was tall, blue eyes sparkled like light sapphire, long golden brown hair floated ethereally with every twirl. The smitten lord shamelessly courted the the graceful acrobat, determined to know at least the name.

The group had stayed in the town for a few weeks, allowing Attila's and Myra's romance to blossom; after a month she ended up staying with him, just like in true fairytales.

My obsession with angst backstory strikes again

The lord was in love, deeper than poets could express it. Since the loss of his home and country he had found his place in the universe along with the perfect companion by his side. He paid less attention to the school, the church and other public affairs; it wasn't like he abandoned them but became more withdrawn to spend time with the love of his life, especially after the birth of their daughter. She was almost the perfect miniature of her mother, same beautiful hair glinting gold in the sunlight, only her eyes were the brightest emerald green he'd ever seen.

While Myra's heart and aura was as pure as a fairy's; the local church was beyond distressed. They claimed that Attila had completely abandoned helping those in need because of her wicked seduction. When they witnessed her performing for the amusement of the crowd, the 'temptress witch' brand couldn't be lifted. They gathered a few enthusiastic townsfolk whom shared their views and a few morally questionable men whom only wanted a piece of the lord's fortune.

10 year old Karma was awakened from her deep slumber by her frantic father; smoke and yelling blinding her senses as he carried her out of the burning house into the nearby forest so the mob won't find her. He promised her he will be back but he had to return into their home for Myra; he couldn't leave her inside. Karma watched her dad disappear into the flames, the air filled with suffocating smoke and religious shouts for god to smite the sinners. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the spot where her father was gone, waiting for her parents to stumble out of the half collapsed building; but that never had happened. She sat unmoving from her spot, struck staring into the flames then into the ashes as the sun has risen.

Birth of the marksman

Attila's brother, Gábor arrived the next day after hearing the news, he was the one whom found Karma still staring at the ruins in a catatonic state. He couldn't avenge his sibling as it meant endangering his niece and she has lost more than enough.

Gábor expected her to become a soft spoken, reserved lady once she overcame her trauma; that theory was soon abandoned when once he had awoken to his niece practicing with his rifle outside with frighteningly great accuracy. The young girl naturally had an extraordinary aim and after a few long talks, he'd seen the determination burning in her to avenge the murder of her parents. Given by her mother's dance lessons, she was also flexible and capable of many different acrobatic moves; this combined with her aim proven to be a very dangerous combination.

To not awaken suspicion he told his friends Karma was an orphan whose parents were killed by bandits and he had adopted her to give her a family and education. Karma was fascinated chasing greater heights of her skills, this involved reading every possible book about anatomy, marking, engraving the useful spots of the body. Karma knows where to shoot to disarm, to cause a slow death, to paralyze, to disable for life and when it is only a warning: an injury which will heal with time. Along with her accuracy, her drawing speed only can be compared to lightning. Although she prefers/most comfortable with her dual revolvers (model undecided yet), she is still a menace with shotguns, rifles, flintlocks and even bows due to Gàbor's 'A Hungarian is not a Hungarian if they can't use a bow' mindset.

The bounty hunter quicker than death

Karma had her first official gunfight at the age of 18 on the auction. for Vihar (Storm), the filly of her father's horses.

Detailed post about Vihar

She officially entered the bounty hunter business when she was 20 and Vihar was 2, aiming for the most dangerous criminals whom committed the worst acts possible. In her early years after the kill she slit open corpses she trying to find the bullet, surverying the damage it caused and adding filler information to her anatomy knowledge. Of course she didn’t bother burying the bodies, she knew as a woman she has to be extremely vicious above talented to be hired and mutilated dead bodies did send a great message & served as cement for building her reputation. The name Karma wasn't entirely her idea, many thankful family members claimed that karma has came for their loved ones' murderers. Her talent spread like wildfire among the men of law, glad to be rid of the dangerous scum; with careful planning, use of environment and Vihar as backup she had wiped out gangs, not solely focused on individuals.

Unfortunately her reputation summoned an unofficial grand price on her head as well in certain circles; they had tracked her back to her uncle's house. The battle claimed Gábor's life and nearly her sight as her right eye was almost slashed out. The new loss opened old wounds: her not being able to protect her loved ones. She couldn't look into a mirror, the scar a reminder how despite all years of training she wasn't untouchable; after burying her uncle plan to gain control over her psyche already formed.

She took a knife and carefully carved four half circles around her eye to form a crosshair with her pupil being the middle of it. She made sure she kept the wounds open for enough time to scar as visibly as the vertical cut; she wanted a symbol to add to her legend. Excuse my pathetic excuse of an edit, I'm not good in this, nor I can draw.

Now Karma is 25, Vihar is 6, both of them in their peak physical prime; the name Vihar is also symbolic a little, Karma is the lightning to her horse. She is dancing on the thin edge of bounty hunting and being an outlaw as she often takes...side jobs to help people who deserve it and usually that person doesn't have a bounty on their head, therefore it is technically murder.

Local antisocial feral monk & cocky gunslinger feral lady / addition of the AU with the amazing @mr-mansnoozie

Near her uncle's house, Karma had discovered a cave and a grumpy mute monk living in it along with his pet bear. The monk, Sandy eventually became a second uncle to the traumatized angry orphan, he taught her how to move & creep upon someone soundlessly, disappear without a trace, cover her stances and behavior patterns of various animals. Before and after returning from a job she always visits her uncle of choice for a chat; a silent way to prepare him to the possibility of her not coming back. But she always do. She considers Sandy as part of her tiny family, although his...copying mechanisms with his own traumas were a bit strange to get used to; she adapted quite fast, after all who is she to judge with a past like that?

I'm a dead man walking, Hell's at my door.

aka collection of small headcanons

🎯 Her dual revolvers are called Salvation and Damnation because she's dramatic

🎯 Karma has a small sketchbook filled with anatomy drawings for further practice.

🎯 She actually can sing, but rarely does, only to Vihar since she never received positive feedback on it. Her voice is gritty, rugged and deep; definitely not the usual and desired sounding from a woman.

🎯 If her target was an outstandingly cruel bastard and/or one of those whom killed her parents she uses a little psychological torture. After fatally wounding them she starts whistling (for the most terrifying experience wear headphones & close your eyes while listening) as they try to crawl away or beg for mercy. The first time the whistle gets shrill & more intense is when she lazily reloads, knowing she has both the time and the upper hand. The second pace shift is when she aims; she shoots during the last, long drawn out high note.

🎯 This is her only verse where Cindy is afraid, no terrified of fire; during her....26 AU's she's always been associated with fire despite dying in or being wounded by it. In this verse she is more tied to lightning, the scent of smoke is enough to send her into a silent panic attack and despite loathing the cold she will never sit close to the fireplace. Her other deep fears include injuring her hands & sight and losing Vihar. Her horse is the only remaining family member of hers, she can't fail her too.

🎯 Most of Karma's scars, injuries are a result of her standing between Vihar and a knife/bullet/ even a bullwhip when a criminal was smart enough to catch on their deep emotional bond.

🎯 She has recurring night terrors about the night her parents died, she always wakes up in cold sweat; she's sort of used to them. Though, sometimes she still cries but thankfully Vihar is there to comfort her.

🎯 Karma has a special morning stretch routine to keep her flexibility and warm up her hands & keep them steady and fast.

🎯 Due to her dad and uncle she received high quality education

🎯 For the untrained eye, the belt of her hat are simple crosses while in reality, they are inverted crosses to symbolize her stance with Christianity

🎯 Karma's middle name is Emerald, given by her father due to her eye color.

🎯 Karma was first inspired by League of Legends Miss Fortune because that name alone is great but unfortunately she is too pirate coded for a western so I abandoned the relation. Though when Karma is not being the 'Call me a slow reader but I only made it to the Dead part, the or Alive didn't register.' ; her personality is similar to hers.

🎯 Due to her dad, Karma is actually half aristocrat. Not like she cares about it the slightest; the only indication of noble blood is her idle stance. It is an unconscious mirror of how her father used to hold himself: back straightened to almost impossible point, left arm behind it, right hand resting on the grip of in her case, revolver instead of hilt of a sword.

🎯 If given the chance to live a normal life, she would've grown into a captivating, lively young woman, much like her mother but with the aristocrat elegance of her father; finding a suitor who lives up to her parents' and her standards would've been the challenge of the century.

🎯 Her special move is called Dance of Death. This is used as last resort when she's facing more opponents up to 12, as with her dual revolvers she has 12 bullets without reloading. She mentally marks the stances of all opponents, predicts their movement, firing order and possible way of their bullets before whirling out of her hiding place. Each pose minimizes the chance of getting shot, and with each change of movement two bullets are fired, two men drop dead.

🎯 Her accuracy isn't just 'gun goes boom >:D' but a combination of natural talent, endless practice, movement prediction, sharp, quick thinking & analytical skills and different techniques molten together to utilize them all at once

🎯 Her hair is now as long as her mother's, she always keeps it in a single tight braid to keep it out of the way; without her hat and hair down she actually loses some of her dangerous edge.

🎯 The only physical memory Karma has of her parents is her dad's hussar sword she found underneath the ruins of the house, it was protected by a very thick wooden box & a lock of her mother's hair is tied to the grip. She has hidden it in the nearby forest, her thoughts often wander to it along with the wish to wield it.

#🦂 western au🔥| one shot; one kill #🔥headcanons🔥 | secrets of the fire #I can't help myself with the little hungarian details can I? #it just makes me so happy because my country doesn't really get any recognition in media & it feels good to weave the history of my country #into a badass character #I also spent 2.5 hours typing this. my fingers ;-; though totally worth it 😄 #🔥alright to reblog🔥| let the wind carry the cinders

[bloodys44]

Silence and Cigarette Smoke

Original story and bonus content found here! ↓↓↓↓

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13289933/1/Silence-and-Cigarette-Smoke

(Also I’m so sorry the last chapter posted all jumbled together like that. And also that I’m to garbage to fix it)  The issue with chapter 7 not being viewable though ff.net also seems to be resolved so feel free to read some more if you enjoy. :)

Warning//Gore

Chapter 4: The Post Birthday Bloodbath

788

The dull thundering of a train traveling over laid track had always sounded soothing to Lucy. Whether it was a version of simple white noise or one of few comforting memories from her days of running, she could never tell. Something about the rhythmic sway of the train car, mixing with the light hum of the metal hovering. She would argue that she never slept better, besides maybe sleeping near Natsu during the cold winter months. A perk she had come to favor about him over the years. And yet, the rattling of their train compartment lacked its usual lulling charm, her mind wired yet not focused on anything in particular. The dark of the sky had crept up slowly, tearing apart the wicked blue that it had previously embodied. Stella wasn't overly far away, a neighbouring continent overthrown by the Fiore army. Majority of the land was underdeveloped, a cluttered mess of forest and mountains. A singular city near the center was all that resided on the vast land, thus keeping the name of the continent itself. Their train wasn't due to reach the platform until the early hours of the morning, and Lucy couldn't help but let an annoyed sigh escape at the thought. There were at least four more hours of traveling remaining, and time seemed to be passing at half it's regular speed. Not to mention the fact that her companions were sleeping soundly, letting the night slip away without a worry.

They had lucked out with a train equipped well for travel, small, but personal compartments lining down each side of the train's cars. The compartment's themselves were nothing extravagant, simple cloth-covered benches mirroring one another. The sliding door creaking obnoxiously when it was opened. If anything, it's most astounding feature was the lingering smell of old shoes and musty wood.

Lucy glanced over to her pink-haired partner, smirking with slight pity for the boy. Natsu had never served well with travel, a rather astonishing relationship with motion sickness. Even in his sleeping state, she could tell he was miserable, clutching the edges of his stomach with purpose. Porlyusica, the guilds head medical attendant had explained it stemmed from his dragon-slaying abilities. Supposedly his senses were so over heightened, the motion of vehicles rattled his own sense of balance. Still, it didn't make it any less enjoyable to tease said boy about it. Currently, he was seated with his shoulder blades pressed heavily into the cushioned backrest, leaning his head against the chilled window pane. A frame of light fog splaying from where his skin connected, the contrast in temperatures causing the reaction. Natsu was always warm, his average body temperature running much higher than that of a regular human. Though when he slept, it usually spiked much higher, his concentration lacking, barely keeping his own skin under control. He had never voiced it to Lucy, but she knew it was a draining task for him, his wild emotions always causing it to fluctuate. When he got overly flustered or rageful he became damn near scalding. Lucy never really minded it, especially in situations like this, his natural body heat making for a cozy effect. She was curled up on the opposite side of the bench, her back resting against the wall connected to the sliding door. With a muffled groan she moved to remove her freezing toes from the constraints of her boots, deciding to take advantage of the living heater across her. Tucking her feet under his left thigh carefully, she relished in the heat before his sudden jolt startled her. Almost instantly the warmth retracted, simmering under his pores. A slight pout overtaking her lips while she stared at his wide, yet sleep-filled eyes. Of course, he would wake up from the sudden change in atmosphere, the boy always on edge while away from the guild.

"Sorry," He mumbled sheepishly, "Did I get too hot again? I didn't mea-"

"No, it's alright, I was just warming my toes." She cooed, interrupting his typical nervous ramblings. "Sorry I woke you."

"S'all right, wasn't sleeping that good anyway." He shifted in his seat, stretching his strong arms wide with a rough yawn before facing her again. His eyes trailed over the compartment quickly, stopping briefly on all the exit points. The door, the window, and the emergency exit placed snuggly between the roofs panels. His shoulders taking on their practiced tense state as he strained his hearing. Lucy could barely hold back the amused smirk that danced over her face when she saw his nose twitch. Her lips only pulling back wider as he continued his practiced motions, checking the surrounding area for any danger. The nose on that boy could beat that of trained hound any day.

"What, afraid the black wizard might get ya?" She teased, wiggling her fingers at him for emphasis.

Natsu only sighed embarrassingly, scratching at the side oh his throat. Subconsciously acting on his traditional nervous habit."Sorry, Stella always-"

"-Makes you nervous," She finished easily. "I know." She slid her feet deeper under his leg, adjusting until she felt comfortable again. His on edge behavior wasn't unusual when they traveled through Stella, always becoming an anxious mess that intensified greatly the closer they got. He never delved into details about it, always stomping her curiosity with a simple defense. Just a bad feeling. She could practically feel her eyes rolling, hearing his voice clearly pronounce the words in her head.

"Honestly, it makes me nervous too," Lisanna added on a whisper, sluggishly pushing herself up from her resting position. Delicate fingers brushing the sleep from her electric eyes. "After all, its where Zeref was born."

Zeref. The great black wizard. A mage trailed only by the stench of death, or so the legends say. Though he hadn't been sighted in years, his very name still struck fear into the hearts of mages and non-magic users alike. A young boy with the tongue of the devil. His very words a magic vice on your mind. He controlled what he wanted, and that was that. "They say he's immortal." The white-haired woman started again. "A blade couldn't pierce his heart."

Now Lucy's eyes really did roll in their sockets. "Please, your only going to rile him up more." She gestured over to Natsu who served her a practiced annoyed frown. "He'll be on edge until we hit Magnolia again."

Lissana giggled slightly, turning her attention to him. "Don't worry, nobody's seen him in years, it's nothing to stress over."

"Doesn't mean he's gone." He bounced back. "Regardless, there's enough to worry about in Stella with or without him." Lissana's brow arched, curiosity plain as she questioned the statement. "Stella's crawling with royal knights, it's the second base from the border of Bosco."

"I thought there was a ceasefire?" She pressed, to which Natsu scoffed.

"They won't stop until they find Mavis's grave."

"What do they want with the holy goddess?"

"Mavis was the first grand witch," Lucy interjected. "It's rumored her grave carry's the secret to eradicating all enchantments."

Lissana hummed in understanding. "So basically mages should be avoiding this area?" She laughed weekly, crossing her arms with lazy movements. "What a perfect place for us."

"If we keep our hoods up we should be fine," Lucy stated pointedly. "Stella's train station is the major rest point between Seven, Bosco, Iceberg and Joya, there's lots of travelers with new faces. Makes it pretty easy to blend in. Besides, nothing remotely bad has ever happened to us while traveling there. It'll be good to keep our wits about us, but Natsu's major anxiety is a little overkill."

"I just have-"

"A bad feeling?" She finished for him again, rather cheekily. "I know." She nudged him with the top of her foot at his exaggerated eye-roll. "I have no doubts we'll make it back just fine. Lissana peeled her legs from the front of the bench, pulling them upwards to rest her chin on her knee.

"Aren't you from Stella, Natsu?" The man grunted slightly, stiffening and sending the woman a warning look before granting a structured nod.

"Did you ever see him as a child? The black wizard I mean. I think he would have been a few years older, but still a child back then."

"No." His response blunt and harsh, pushed over his teeth. Lucy quirked a brow, scanning over Natsu intently. He crossed his arms at her curiosity, a blank statement that he wasn't planning on explaining the situation further. Lissana sighed, placing a hand under her delicate chin.

"Stella is where Gildarts found Natsu as a child." She explained to the blonde. "He grew up there."

"Come on Lissana." He hissed back. His arms twitching as they stretched over his chest.

"How come you never told me that?" Lucy pressed, fixated on the man's jittery movements. "I thought you didn't remember your childhood?"

"I remember bits and pieces." He slumped backward obnoxiously, deciding that he was definitely stuck in this conversation now. "I just never thought it was important."

"You know where I grew up." She defended shortly.

"Geeze," he scoffed at the blonde playfully. "Like that was a hard one, Princess of Fiore."

The blonde found herself pulling a pout. She wasn't trying to be rude, only holding genuine curiosity about her best friend's life before her. "Well, maybe we could stop at your childhood home before we leave? It would be nice to see where you grew up." Her face warming as she beamed at the boy.

"It doesn't exist anymore." The words forced roughly from his tongue. "I burned it down." She didn't miss the slight twitch of his shoulders, or the way his voice threatened to crack. He puffed out a never mind before claiming he was getting some air, the trains rattling my stomach. A blunt end to their conversation. He was up in a single movement, pushing through the door and ignoring the wine of the sliding mechanics as it slammed back to its original closed resting state.

"Don't take it personally, Natsu's very protective of himself." Lissana tried, (as if Lucy didn't already know that) hopping over to sit next to the blonde. "I shouldn't have brought it up, I only know because I was there the day he arrived. I thought maybe he would have told you, finally opened up to somebody."

"Why would he open up to me? You've known him much longer."

Lissana huffed playfully, tossing her hair with a flick of her wrist. "Even I can see the way he looks at you, all doe-eyed and bashful. It's hard not to notice really."

"Natsu is anything but bashful." Lucy scoffed, giggling slightly. "Though I'm sure I could say the same for you."

"That's sweet of you to say," The fair-haired maiden flushed, "But I have my theories." Lucy stilled for a moment. Was she making a joke? Natsu had never pushed the boundaries that they had established over the years of their friendship, unlike he pushed for the fair-haired woman. Maybe it was because her feelings were so blatant, easy to play off of. Not to mention the comfort fo the family dynamic he shared with her siblings. It's not like she could find any reason she wouldn't want to notice casual pining in her direction, especially from somebody like him, any girl could dream of being so lucky. It was just that it didn't happen like that, and she didn't see any change for the future.

"You're ridiculous." She decided as a response, to which Lissana chuckled fondly. The rest of the trip remained rather silent, even after the dragon slayers return.

Meeting with the client went well, no arguments or concerns from the traveling wizard trio. The client himself was nothing out of the ordinary, a common man whose mother had been a successful wizard. Though he possessed no enchantment of his own, he held the secret of magic secure. The man owned a gracious amount of property in the city, majority of the population's homes falling on his land. Expressing his concerns for the people he bid the group luck as they headed to find the feverish bandit group that had been terrorizing them. Natsu didn't remove his face-concealing cloak, let alone speak during the whole exchange which only left the blonde wondering if he recognized the man from his childhood years. Unlikely as it was, she couldn't shake the suspicion; her friend's body language balancing on peculiar.

The bandit group, Twilight Oger (or so they called it.) had taken up residence in the city's abandoned mine. Converting the tunnels into a makeshift base. The group had established a rather daunting reputation with the city of Stella, the citizens growing too weary to attempt to run them out on their own. The royal guard batting an unusually blind eye. The rumor of their supposed sex trafficking didn't sit well with Lucy either. "We should set up a plan," Lissana suggested lightly. Her voice a much-needed contrast to the silence they had been walking in.

"Walk through the front doors and knock some heads."

Lucy shook her head playfully at the brash fire-breather, shoving his shoulder slightly. "I think we should split up," The peppy white-haired woman continued. "It would be easier to sneak around, a stealthy approach might be best considering we don't know how spread out in the tunnels they are."

"Also easier for one of us to get caught off guard. Aren't these thugs notorious for trapping woman?"

"You aren't traveling with common woman Natsu." The fair-haired woman retorted back. "Don't be so degrading, we can handle ourselves just fine." The peaceful smile she sported did little to sweeten her harsh words. Though Lucy found herself nodding slowly in agreement. "Plus it'll allow me to try out my new spell without you two getting in the way." She winked cheekily.

"I dunno," the dragon slayer mumbled, scratching at his throat in practiced fashion. "I really think we should stick together, I have a bad feeling about this place." Lucy could practically taste the anxiety of his words as they dripped over his chin. They should probably listen, Natsu's suspicions usually turned out to be right. But his overly annoying constant worrying from the city made it hard to distinguish his keen senses from his blind panic. Nothing ever happened to them in Stella. A nieve approach yes, but also a chance to prove herself to the man that always seems to protect her.

"I think it should be alright," the blonde finally interjected. "The tunnels should echo enough to hear one another if we call for help." Natsu simply shook his head muttering an annoyed Whatever under his breath. She felt kind of bad, gaining up on the man. This was supposed to be his birthday mission after all. But in all honestly, Lucy found herself surprisingly excited, an opportunity to show her teammate how far she'd advanced. A fully-fledged Fairy Tail member that could handle her own.

The group traveled to their destination at a quick pace. The air filled with Lissana's constant enamored pestering towards a certain Salamander. Lucy more distracted by the winding paths of the city's streets, decorated sporadically with aged trees and vegetation. She thought it was rather sweet, how well her two teammates were getting along. Even with Lissana's words on the way over. It was nice to see Natsu's pleased expression towards the woman. A long-time childhood friend and admirer. Though their newest member still bristled her, Lucy made a silent promise to invite her out with them more. It was nice to travel alongside another female, and if it made Natsu happy, then she was sure she could live with it.

The sun was beginning to set by the time they arrived, the night sky pouring out for its time to play. The stars blessing Lucy's soul, her magic vibrating deliciously under her skin. Her power almost doubling in the light of the night. The moon's shift was her favorite time to cast. As they stepped through the taped off mine entrance she could practically feel her excitement begin to bubble over. Traditionally she held a rather level head during missions, keeping her partner's explosive personality in check. Yet she found herself letting go, ready to show off her own power.

"I really think we should push through together," Natsu mumbled under his breath. The words so foreign on the rambunctious man's tongue; always ready to run ahead of the group in search of action, yet never far enough away that he couldn't protect those closest to him. It wasn't a secret that he was much stronger than his usual travel partner Lucy, but she didn't want him to feel obligated in protecting her when he already does so much.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Lissana bubbled, already skipping off towards one of the winding shafts. Lucy's lips pulling into a smile as she began following her lead towards another turn-off.

"Lucy." Her name pronounced like rocks on cement, jaded and sharp. She spun on her heel carefully, her smile falling at the dragon slayer's serious tone.

"I can take care of myself Natsu." She mused. "You don't need to hold my hand all the time."

A low grumble resounded in the boy's throat as he ran his rough fingers through spiked locks nervously. "Geeze Luce, I know I don't." She raised her eyebrow at his cautious tone. "It's just.. last time you were on your own I found you beaten half to death in the middle of the forest."

All mocking aside, Lucy felt her temper skyrocket. Of course, he didn't think she was capable. "I'm not a fragile little princess anymore. That was years ago." She spat, anger boiling over. "You don't need to save me all the time."

"I know, I know... I just want you to be careful. Sometimes you have trouble keeping your magic under control during the night."

"Like you're one to talk, you burn everything around you the second your emotions get out of wack." Internally she knew her anger was getting the better of her, words falling from her jaw faster then her mind could process. He was just worried about her, as a caring teammate should be. The pained expression he was now wearing only verified that fact. Mindlessly her fingers began fidgeting at her belt. Her lungs pushing her spitfire attitude out with a breathy exhale. "I'm sorry Natsu, that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just excited is all. I'll be careful, I promise." Natsu's deep onyx gaze burned into her for a moment before he nodded, although reluctant, it was an agreement none the less. She reached out, squeezing his wrist confidently before turning back to face her chosen path. "You be careful too! Mira will surly cut off my head if I bring you home needing more stitches."

The forgotten shafts were confusing, to say the least. The floorplan coming across as sporadic and unplanned. There was little that argued what a great hideout it made, trapping its victims in a maze until they were prayed upon by vicious ogres. The lack of security flowing down the halls only proving that their targets felt the same way. Lucy had only run into two men along the way, their skills lacking, making it an easy victory for the blonde. The lack of scream's echoing offered that her teammates were fairing the same. Even with their earlier agreement that stealth was the best option, Natsu had never been the quiet/silent type. Especially when fired up in a battle. Either the mine shafts didn't share sound as good as Lucy had estimated, or he hadn't run into anyone just yet.

The must that surrounded her intensified greatly as she progressed, the smell practically suffocating her. Senses dampened by its nature. The only sound around her was the clack of boots connecting to the rocky earth, and the creaky hinge of the lantern strung to her hip. The ground becoming less and less traveled. It was peculiar really, with the placement of the mine so central to town. One would think at least a few curious teenagers would have come to poke around before rumors had sprouted about Twilight ogres appearance. And yet her footprint's were the only evidence of human life.

Groaning loudly, Lucy spun, heading back towards the entrance. Agitated that her luck pulled her towards one of the unused routes. Expectedly her group had already rounded up majority of their targets while she wandered around uselessly. Placing her palm to her forehead she let out an embarrassed huff. All her big talk was for nothing, the harsh tone she had used against her friend making her mood plummet even farther. All she could do now was pick up her pace and hope she could make herself helpful with tying up loose ends. Lucy always hated when jobs turned out this way, especially when Natsu insisted she collected her portion of the reward despite her actual effort. Not that it mattered today, this mission was supposed to be for Natsu after all. And truthfully after Lissana had decided to join them she had done nothing to make the trip enjoyable for her pink-haired friend. Silently she promised to the empty halls that she would apologize to him when they finished their job.

When Lucy rounded the corner back to the entrance she was debating which tunnel to follow. Pacing back and forth in front of Natsu's entrance before resolving that his nose probably led him exactly where he wanted to go. With quick steps she bounded down the winding hall's, trying her best to stay along the path of the firebreathers signature sandal footprints.

A scream that caused her blood to run cold echoed around her with striking prominence. Lissana's sweet tone coming across shrill and ragged. There wasn't a moment to process before Lucy's legs propelled her forward. The sound of angelic sobs guiding her path. Any and all excitement she had previously been consumed with smothered like a candle without oxygen. The shaft began to blossom with light as she rounded each corner, the weight barring planks becoming more and more re-enforced. If that wasn't already enough clues she was approaching the center of the base, the newly constructed grand entrance that appeared before her did.

Acting quickly, Lucy pressed herself against the corner of the doorframe, analyzing the situation before charging headstrong into the commotion. Obviously, the treacherous group had put some work in. The cavern dugout to be much larger than anything man-made underground should be. Large metal lanterns decorating the ceiling with patterned placement. Casting enough light to see, but not enough to dismiss the eerie atmosphere. Small beds, makeshift furniture and gang members coating the outer walls while the center remained bare. Except of course for the probable main event of their evening.

A rugged-looking man stood center a wooden stage-like platform. Greasy hair curling over knarled shoulders. Even in the dim light, Lucy couldn't miss the disgusting gleam of the man's golden teeth. Oh so typical of a rich bandit. But what really caught her off guard was the squirming woman entrapped by his rugged arms, top strewn aside leaving her covered only in lacy white undergarments. His chapped lips smirking into her cheek while he pinned her against his bare chest. His one hand prying dirty fingers into her supple mouth while the other pressed a rusty blade to her exposed stomach. Though not enough pressure to break skin, it was just enough to make Lucy's mouth run dry.

"Let her go." Natsu's enraged voice scrapped over every surface, demanding attention from all living things. Lucy cast her eyeline off to the side, finally noting her partner's presence. His clothes looked slightly battle-torn, but overall he looked un-worrisome. His expression was firm, lips drawn into a tight line while his eyes trained on the enemy standing before him. Even from her placement on the other side of the cavern, Lucy could feel the scorching waves roll off of him. A terrifying might in the face of adversity.

"What are you going to do about it fire boy?" The man's shrill voice causing Lucy to shiver. "Even if you get rid of us, more will come. Those royal soldiers are very eager customers. And there's plenty of women to go around here." Natsu lunged forward, feet indenting the ground with sheer pressure. The man howled playfully, cackling like a madman as he sidestepped out of harm's way. Lissana squeaking at the sudden movement." Natsu spun quickly, fang-like teeth bared while he coiled his muscles, ready for his next pounce. "Make a move like that again and I might have to carve up your little girlfriend early!' The blade against her stomach pressed deeper, causing Lissana to jolt, a high pitched screech crawling between the man's fingers. A sloppy line of red spilling from her torso down the hilt of the blade. Natsu looked frozen, his eyes never daring to stray from the glint of metal. Mind fighting with his anger to consider the safest course of action.

Shit shit shit. This was definitely not how Lucy had expected to reunite with her teammates. Instantly her fingers shot into the confines of her purse, searching desperately for the lone piece of white chalk she always carried. Mind racing dangerously through her memorized incantations. Though her magic wasn't necessarily designed for hand to hand combat like Natsu's, she held a natural talent for spellcasting. Confident that she was capable of at least making a big enough distraction for Natsu to proceed, she started scratching the lines of a practiced magic circle. The white of the chalk easily visible over the dark rock beneath her. Her frantic hand movements made the lines far less legible then she preferred, but it would do for now. The blonde dropped her weight to the floor, careful in her attempt to stay silent as she crossed her legs. Delicate palms slapping against the earth over her created circle. Her eyelids slamming shut in concentration while her lips parted for the whisper of incantation. Almost instantly the very ground beneath them shook with purpose, guiding cracks up the walls and spewing rocks from the ceiling. She didn't worry about frightening her teammates, she knew Natsu could smell her, even with his focus concentrated elsewhere. Hopefully, they could get this situated and escape to safety before she brought heaven's wrath down atop their heads. The spell itself was no easy feat, calling upon the gods light to alter the earth. Lucy only capable of casting it under the light of the moon. No doubt it would bring attention from the townsfolk their way, but at this moment the blonde thought it was the best course of action. She could feel the shudder under her legs as the shafts hidden deeper under the earth collapsed, the roaring sound of rockfall scattering through the cavern.

Natsu's strong tone carried over easily as he sneered cheekily, "Now you really fucked up. Gone and made the angel mad." Even in deep concentration, Lucy felt a smile drum at her lips.

"I already knew there was three of you. We thieves hear of all magic activity in Stella. She's no threat, pesky fairies lack the resolve to drop the ground over the heads of their 'comrades'."

"Bet." The dragon slayer's singular cocky reply sang like a choir to Lucy, pushing her magic to expand outwards. A sickening crack bestowed over them, one of the main support beams snapping under pressure. The scared cries of ogres screaming far louder. The blond's brow furrowed slightly as she felt her very skin vibrate, her magic fluctuating drastically. "You're okay Lucy." Natsu's voice rang true, obviously taking notice in her power surge. Yes, she was O.K. She wouldn't falter so easily when her friend's lives were on the line. She just had to keep the main cavern intact a little longer, enough time for them to escape. She was strong, and she could do it.

The man continued to cackle hysterically, bouncing his weight between his feet. "Bad move fire boy." He taunted. All Lucy could hear was Lissana's blood curtailing wail and Natsu's panicked shouts when she realized they had lost. Her lashes fluttered open, eyes rolling uncomfortably as her vision was obstructed by blinding light. She couldn't stop. She was losing control, just as her partner had foreseen. Her own magic blinding her sight.

"Lucy!" Natsu's worried screech reached from the main cavern. "Cut the fuse!" A pit burned its way into the depths of her stomach, fear of how this situation was going to end if she couldn't regain control. All she had wanted to do was help, and now the situation was only going to get worse. Splinters of support beams rained furiously over her, enraged with being disturbed after so many silent years. She felt her body shake with the earth's pure ferocity. "Please, Lucy!" He tried again, his voice swirling with Lissana's wild screams. She still couldn't stop. She was going to kill them all.

Lucy wasn't sure how many agonizingly slow minutes had passed when her vision finally re-focused, disturbingly strong hands clamping around her delicate wrist's and pulling her back to earth. And god, what an unpleasant sight to be greeted with. Two men that reeked of whiskey and sex smirking greedily at her.

"You's a pretty scary witch when you're casting, eyes going all white and shit. Body twitching like an addict." Lucy scrambled back frantically, her spine slamming into the stone arch. The men leaping upon her with a timed pounce, pinning her tightly against the frame. The first man stretching his fingers around her chin. "But yet, your so pretty. I'd have fun breaking a little thing like you." His alcohol glazed tongue searing along her creamy cheek. Lucy screeched vividly in disgust, springing her knee upwards to the man's groin. He recoiled with blunt movements, swinging his arm around to backhand her. The ferocity splitting her skin. "You sly bitch!" He fired another shot to her jaw. "You's makin' enemies with the wrong person." She tried to pry her head away from the man's violent swings, eyes scrambling to take in her surroundings. Small pebbles and dust still gave way from the ceiling, but the ground seemed to have relaxed, her magic cut out at the roots. The tunnel she had originally traveled down lay in ruin, barley leaving enough space for a full-grown adult to crawl back to the light. Thankfully though, the traumatizing screams had stopped, Natsu's much calmer voice the only thing ringing out.

"You okay Lucy?!"

If the blonde hadn't received another painful blow to her lower lip she probably would have snickered. "A little preoccupied at the moment." She grunted, purposely spitting the blood that was pooling around her gums over her assailant's face. She bucked her legs intently, thrashing around like a child until she freed one of her arms. With a sinched brow she slammed her palm over the first man's chest, muttering a simple incantation that caused her hand to pulse. Holy light rained down again, this time pin-pointed above her enemy's lungs and flinging him backward through the semi-demolished doorway and into the main cavern. A short victory smile produced from her mouth before she felt her body tremor. A light, yet firm reminder of how much magic she had just finished exerting, and how fragile it made her body.

Sucking in a deep breath she tried to muster strength from tomorrow, using her free hand to claw into the dirt. Muscles protesting annoyingly while she pulled herself away from the remaining man. "Not so fast witch." His tone twisting the word to sound like a vulgar insult. The hilt of his own blade striking into the round bone of her ankle. A torn wail exhaled from her, reacting to the pain but thanking the heavens that she hadn't heard the crack of her bones splitting. It wasn't much, but it gave the man an opening, tucking his legs in only to spring them out into her back. Shoving her ungracefully through the frame to join the rest of the crowd. Lucy cradled her ribs carefully, attempting to regain the air that man had so rudely ripped away from her. She was only able to catch a glimpse of her dragon slayers unreadable expression before more greedy hands tore her from the ground, dragging her center-stage to join the 'show'.

"Well fire boy, I suppose thanks are in order." The leader mewled again tapping his now drenched blade against a whimpering Lissana's torso. "Bringing me two of the most beautiful woman in Fiore and barely puttin up a fight to keep them." He was taunting now, voice never losing his deranged laughter. "Don't know why to maidens of this caliber are slugging around with someone like you, but I guess I should give you a little credit," Natsu growled darkly, his body growing tenser (If that was even possible), muscles coiling dangerously. The leader followed Lucy with hungry eyes, watching as Lucy was strung up by another man in the same manner as Lissana. The only difference was the blade pushing fearfully hard against the pulse point of her throat, leaving her stomach out of harm's way. Honestly, she wasn't sure which she would prefer more. She watched Natsu's dark anguish filled orbs bounce back and forth between her and Lissana. She tried to capture his attention, pleading with him by expression that everything was going to be alright. That he should focus on the more injured of the two and leave her to her own devices, but his glance never lasted long enough. "I know!" The leader piped up again excitedly. "It seems a little unfair to steal away both your girls after that pathetic display," He toyed, "So, how about I suggest a little game?"

"I ain't playing shit." Natsu responded bluntly.

"Don't be such a downer fire boy, this will be fun."

"Every time I hear that, things don't usually end up being that 'fun'." He spat. relaxing his tight fist momentarily before clenching it again.

The leader only smiley devilishly, continuing his frantic knife tapping over Lissana's stained skin. "I'm going to let you pick one." He decided. "Pick a girl to take home while one rots away under some pompous sex-deprived guard." The look on Natsu's face practically shattered Lucy's heart. One of absolute horror that something like that had even been offered to him. His singular broken reply of sick bastard weighing heavily on the limited oxygen.

"It's okay Natsu," Lucy offered dumbly, wincing when the tip of the blade punctured her skin. Hot thick liquid oozing down her neck, threatening to break her resolve. "Take Lissana out of here, I'll be alright." She tried to produce a weak smile but Natsu's sad cold eyes froze her as he shook his head. She gulped loudly, feeling the blade press deeper with her every word. Her captor obviously not pleased with her speech. "Please." She tried again, but Natsu only shook his head faster.

"No way in hell."

"This is so not the time to be stubborn." She retched, cringing at the sticky feeling coating over her chest. She tried to ask him again but the blade slid uncomfortably under her skin and all she could summon was strangled yelp. Surprisingly, it did nothing to help the exchange.

The dragon slayer's eyes bulged, raising his arm's defensively, voice frantic and lost. "Stop!" He yelled, "Don't hurt them anymore, give me a second to think!" She had never seen the man look so uncomfortable.

Lucy slammed her eyes shut at her holders' increasingly wild movements, jerking the blade against her without a care. "This is ridiculous lover boy," The leader spat over his laughter. "I, out of the goodness of my own heart offer you back one of the women you practically dropped in my lap. And you cant even decide which pussy you'd rather ride? Pathetic!" He hollered, the rest of his goon's joining in. "I'm good and bored now, you sucked all the fun out of this. I don't even need these girls!" At this point, it was hard to distinguish words through his manic howls. "You have three seconds before I just kill them both." Natsu's attention snapped back to him like his mind was finally processing the events that were about to unfold.

The cold-hearted cheering of a slow count sprouted from the other members. Starting at Three and barley pronouncing the O in One before all hell broke loose. The roaring sound of metal clad boots slamming into the earth above, signaling the extremely overdue arrival of the royal army. Bandits screaming and crawling over one another like wild animals in search of escape from a rabid predator. And Natsu's scalding shoulder crashing into her sternum, throwing her away from the wicked man's grasp. She rolled roughly against the dirt, hand shooting to her throat to pressurize the bleeding. She was gulping greedily for air when she heard the stomach flipping joyful voice cry out above the commotion. "Good choice! I think I would have picked her too." Nothing but freezing, blood-curdling cries followed. Lucy felt her limbs stiffen at the sound, her chocolate irises the only responsive part of her body. Taking in her horrific environment with shocking detail. Natsu was only a few steps away from Lissana, His body recovering quickly from surging towards her, propelling him back to the remaining prisoner. But a few steps was a few too many, and Lucy and her partner could do nothing but watch as their friend was quite literally gutted before them.

Blood had always been red. But nothing compared to the deep scarlet pooled around the stark white of Lissana's being. An enraged bloody titan plucking the clouds goddess right from the sky and dragging her to the fiery pits of hell. That is, if hell consisted of somebody shredding your torso to smithereens and hysterically laughing as vital organs spewed through the skin. Lucy was sure that in this world, nothing would ever hold a candle to the vile scene displayed before her. The grotesque sound of a lifeless body crashing limply over its inner parts. The ferocious roar of a wounded dragon casting thieves to scaper away, a high pitched squeal on their lips. All the while a daunting march of hungry war men encroached on them.

Lucy's head snapped painfully back to reality. They couldn't stay here, the army would swallow them alive. The Ogres were sprinting out of a tunnel near the back of the cavern, no doubt another way out laid beyond it. They still had a chance. With a silent prayer to all that was holy, she pulled herself up from her shambled mess on the floor. Taking rushed staggered footsteps towards her partner and the offending carcass in front of him. "Natsu..." She croaked. "We need to get out of here." She rested her palm on his shoulder, placing most of her weight on him. Her ankle lacking in its career of helping her walk. He didn't seem to notice her. Lips quivering as he muttered under his breath, fingers twitching, coated in the blood he had tried to prevent. "Natsu, we need to go..." She tried again, giving the man a light shake.

"We can't just leave her here..." His broken cry pleaded, head-spinning to meet her gaze. Never, in all the years Lucy had known Natsu, had she seen him cry. His deep onyx eyes swimming with salty tears, his raging passion extinguished. Her strong motivator completely shattered before her, frantically attempting to scoop spilled organs back into a frayed body. The footsteps of soldiers drawing ever closer as her own tears spilled over.

"Please Natsu." She sobbed, gaging slightly as blood bubbled from the split in her throat. She thought his previous expression succeeded in breaking her heart, but the look he was giving her now practically split it in two. A mangled pain-ridden yell erupting from his chest while he grasped Lucy's wrist, dragging her away from their murdered friend and the on slot of guards that inadvertently let it happen.

Again, check out the full story here! ↓↓↓↓

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13289933/3/Silence-and-Cigarette-Smoke

#natsu #natsu dragneel #lucy #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #fan fiction #lisanna strauss #zeref #Nalu #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction

[quentinblack]

Smoke and Mirrors 

Chapter 7: Ron II - The Game (link to full story on FF.net)

Featuring: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Hestia Jones

Word Count: 5K words

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD/Strong Violence

Ron vacantly studied the entrance to the Ministry of Magic.

It had been almost nine months since the three of them had infiltrated the building, yet it felt like it happened so long ago it might as well have been in another lifetime.

The Magic is Might statue had been destroyed in the days following You Know Who’s fall – and in its place stood a gigantic memorial in tribute of all those who lost their lives to defeat him.

There wasn’t quite the same hustle and bustle that Ron was used to seeing when he’d visited the Ministry in the past with his Dad, but there was still a considerable work-force back to help run Wizarding Britain - and Ron, Hermione and Harry were attracting lots of attention from those who did walk past them.

Ron caught the eye of one of Kingsley’s aides and flagged him down.

“Is Kingsl– the Minister for Magic around?” he asked hopefully.

“The Minister is booked out for the next fortnight,” the young man replied nervously. “But I’m sure he might make an exception to see you,” he quickly added, before scurrying off quickly.

“And you wanted to come and see him on your own Hermione,” Ron said sarcastically. “That guy took one look at the famous Ron Weasley and-

“Ronald!” Hermione grumbled, as Harry laughed slightly.

“Well I’m sure Ron’s dad is technically his boss now,” Harry added.

Ron was pleased his dad had eventually relented and accepted Kingsley’s offer to be Permanent secretary to help run the Ministry, but even after just three days in the job he’d barely seen him at home, such was the vast workload.

It had made the three of them feel guilty about not getting involved in helping themselves, but they had been busy packing for their potentially long summer-trip around Australia to help Hermione find her parents.

“Ah. Mister Potter, we meet again.”

Ron saw the stern-faced Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Gawain Robards, who they’d met at Hogwarts in the aftermath of the battle.

“Mister Weasley. Miss Granger,” he said politely, as he shook both of their hands after Harry’s.

“Have to say the Minister and I thought the three of you might have taken a longer break before getting back into the swing of things. Certainly earned it. Nothing wrong with a strong work-ethic though, I like that,” he said, as Ron pondered the prospect of taking a break.

If he was honest it was one that was in-fact very appealing to him, especially given his nightmares and struggles with grief, but he would never admit it to Harry or Hermione.

He had to put on a brave face.

“We are going on a break Mister Robards. Well sort of,” Harry said.

“Oh. I see,” the Head of Magical Law Enforcement responded with a slightly disappointed look on his face.

“I did have some information I thought could be of use to you though, you know, in your hunt for the escaped Death Eaters,” Harry added.

Gawain’s eyes lit up and Ron thought it looked like the Head of Magical Law Enforcement’s mind was racing. Robards ran his hand through the beard on the bottom of his chin.

“Follow me to my office,” he barked quietly. “Can’t be too sure about what you say even in the hallways and corridors,” Gawain added, as his eyes shifted around the large open space.

“Constant vigilance,” Ron uttered in his best Alastor Moody impression.

Hermione and Harry laughed softly and even Gawain raised a brief smile.

“I miss that mad bastard,” Robards muttered as he and Harry swiftly walked away.

“What do you make of him, Ron?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Who? Mister Robards? I dunno, seems pretty alright I guess,” Ron replied.

“Do you not think it’s a little odd though? I was under the impression he was always a Scrimgeour man. Kingsley seems to be placing an awful lot of trust in him. If he was such good friends with Mad-Eye why was he never in The Order?” she reasoned, with a concerned look on her face.

“I don’t know, but I know Dad said it was never a good move politically to be a known member if you worked here. Didn’t give you a particularly long life expectancy either, especially in the old days.”

“I still don’t think we should trust him,” Hermione countered.

“Perhaps not. But I think we should play our cards a bit closer to our chest. We’re part of it now… aren’t we?” Ron asked rhetorically.

“Part of what… the Ministry?”

“The Game,” Ron whispered. “We’re pieces on the board now. Dad said working here is like one big game of chess. It’s like we’re back in that chamber in our first year. We might not want to be – but we’re pieces now, whether we like it or not. It’s time to start playing.”

“Ooh, what are you playing? Can I join?”

Ron and Hermione turned round in surprise at being interrupted by the female voice.

Ron almost didn’t recognize her at first. He’d only ever seen Hestia Jones in casual clothes before, but the dark-haired witch looked very smart in her black robes, which complimented her mocha skin and piercing brown eyes.

“Hi guys. Fancy seeing you here, ehh?” Hestia said warmly, before giving them both a quick hug.

Ron felt quite awkward when she gave him a slight kiss on the cheek, but he relaxed slightly when he saw her do the same to Hermione. He thought he caught a slight raised eyebrow from Hermione, but maybe he just imagined it.

“First day at work in the Auror office is it?” she asked.

“Not just yet,” Ron replied. “We’re just here to see Kingsl- the Minister,” he fumbled, as he corrected himself for the second time in the space of a few minutes. He felt his cheeks blushing slightly as Hestia smiled at his error.

“Well you’ll be lucky, Ron,” Hestia said sarcastically. “I’m waiting to see him myself later. We’re quite short staffed up in Obliviator HQ. Even just a few extra trainees to help with inbound news would really lift the workload. I don’t suppose you two know any half-decent muggle-borns or half-bloods that are looking for a job? They wouldn’t see much action, but the pay isn’t bad for what you have to do,” Hestia asked in a slightly jokey manner, but Ron could sense there may well have been serious undertones in her request for suggestions.

Ron mused slightly.

“Well I don’t know if they’re planning to go back to Hogwarts next year, but you could always try Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. They both fought in the battle. They’re good guys.”

“They must be very good guys to have Ron Weasley speak so highly of them,” Hestia replied with a wink, which made Ron blush further. Hermione shot him a funny look.

“I best be off. Very busy up there. They’ll all be wondering where I’ve got to!” she added, sounding quite rushed.

“There was just one thing, Hestia. If you could spare another minute,” Hermione blurted quickly.

“Of course!” Hestia replied instantly, smiling at her.

“It’s just… I’ve read a lot about bewitching and memory charms, but I was wondering, if you would know… if you bewitch someone’s memory… does the length of time that they’re bewitched have any impact on being able to reverse the spell?” Hermione asked.

Hestia pondered for a moment.

“Well…” she began softly. “There’s no exact science to it, Hermione... there’s lots of extenuating factors that can influence it. If someone’s mind is vehemently opposed to the idea or memory being implanted on them, then, depending on the strength of the person’s mind, sometimes over a prolonged period of time the mind can slowly fight back and resist it-

“Sort of like when someone’s fighting back against the Imperius curse?” Ron blurted out.

“Yes, Ron. Exactly like that,” replied Hestia.

Hermione looked at Hestia hopefully.

“That’s why when implanting or removing a memory via bewitching or obliviation it is best to do so in a way that the person’s mind wouldn’t naturally resist to. For example, it is often quite easy to obliviate the memory of a muggle who has seen something they shouldn’t… like a dragon or a giant… because their mind thinks that seeing something like that is impossible to start with. If you are altering or implanting a memory in someone’s mind… it’s always best to alter it to something very similar, or if you’re implanting a memory or a thought in someone’s mind… it’s much less difficult if it’s something that that person’s mind would want to or has previously seen. To bewitch someone to have a completely independent thought or memory as if it was their own… inception… that is a very difficult art, which very few witches or wizards have ever successfully mastered. That’s why so many dark wizards just use the Imperius curse if they want to take control of someone’s mind. ”

“That’s why I bewitched my parents to move to Australia. I read that it was easier to bewitch people into doing or thinking something that they’d thought of before – and they always said they wanted to retire to Australia after I finished school. So it made perfect sense. It’s just… I don’t know if I’ll be able to reverse the bewitching of their memory to forget I existed,” she said with a worrying look on her face.

Hestia studied her for a few moments.

“It’s very difficult to make somebody permanently forget about people that they love, or have loved, even with obliviation. You can bewitch or obliviate someone’s conscious mind and memory of someone, but if it is someone very important to them, who they have known for years… then the memory of that person will still exist in their subconscious… in their dreams… and one little dream can trigger an avalanche of memories in that person’s mind. I think even just seeing you again could break part of the enchantment you cast on them, Hermione. I’m sure it will all work out just fine.”

Hermione thanked Hestia, who gave her a slight hug and smiled at Ron before rushing off back to work.

“See,” Ron began. “Nothing to worry about. I told you.”

“I’m still not totally convinced, Ron. I’m sure Hestia knows a lot more about bewitching and memory charms than I do, but when she tried to alter The Dursley’s memory so that they’d respect and love Harry-

“But that’s just what she said, isn’t it? Their minds were probably so adverse to the idea of loving Harry after hating him all his life that it backfired and went wrong. And I still reckon she did him a favour if you ask me…”

“Ronald!” Hermione groaned.

The aide that Harry had flagged down earlier was now sprinting over to them, looking completely out of breath.

“The Min…ist….er….can…see…see you now!” he panted, as he doubled over.

They thanked him before he began leading them to Kingsley’s office.

“I think Harry should stay here… if he wants to,” Hermione said quietly, as she tried to speak to Ron without Kingsley’s aide hearing her.

“What?! That’s ridiculous!” Ron began. “He wants to come and help. Besides… you’ve just spent the best part of a year on the run living in a tent to help Harry defeat You Know Who. The least he can do to return the favour is come with us to Australia to help find your par-

“But Ron, don’t you see? I didn’t do all of that as a big favour to Harry… it was to help defeat You Know Who, yes, of course, that helped Harry, but that benefitted me too…and you… and everyone in the wizarding world – and the muggle one too. It would be different if they’d all been caught… but…

Hermione looked at him fearfully as she lowered her voice even lower.

“…there’s still Death Eaters out there, Ron. Murderers. And Harry can help catch them better than anyone… you know that. Whilst they’re still out there nobody is safe, not really. Not me… you… or-

“Ernie!!” Ron uttered excitedly as he saw his former Hufflepuff classmate heading out of Kingsley’s office door with a tall man, who judging by his long ponytail Ron thought must be the Auror, Robert Williamson.

“Good to see you both looking so well!” Ernie exclaimed in his typical bombastic manner. “No doubt you’ve both been recruited to join the ranks of the Aurors too…” he said knowingly. “My Uncle would be so proud that I’ve been personally head-hunted to-

“Now, now, Mister MacMillan,” Willamson tutted. “Your Uncle Albert was indeed a very proud man… and a very talented Auror… but if he taught me anything when I was a young recruit it was the fundamental importance of both modesty and respect. I endeavour to teach you both of those traits, if it’s the last thing that I do…”

Ernie made a comical face that said just what he thought of Williamson’s suggestion, before bidding Ron and Hermione farewell as he flanked his large companion.

Ron gave Hermione a bemused look as they entered Kingsley’s chambers.

The room itself was fairly dimly lit, quite large and appeared to have had a makeover since Kingsley had taken office.

There were many large moving portraits of magical creatures dotted around the walls, with the most impressive being of a giant Thunderbird flying around what Ron assumed was an African desert. Ron also shuddered slightly at an Acromantula skeleton that was transfixed on the ceiling – and noted in the far corner of the room a giant triangular grey flag with a squawking black falcon on it.

“I never knew you were a Falmouth fan!” Ron exclaimed, as Kingsley looked up from the piece of parchment he had been studying.

“Let us win, but if we cannot win… let us break a few heads,” Kingsley uttered the Falmouth Falcons’ motto, which caused Hermione to raise her eyebrow a bit, presumably not understanding the reference.

Ron noted there were moving pictures of several famous Falcons players dotted near the flag too. He recognized the infamous beaters, Karl and Kevin, the infamously brutal Broadmoor brothers of the 1960s, yet he did not recognize the fairly youthful looking dark-skinned man with dreadlocks aloft a broom on a separate picture above them.

“You’ll be pleased to know that is purely my attitude to Quidditch and not to politics, Miss Granger,” the Minister for Magic laughed, which seemed to reassure her a bit. “Although if the rumours are to be believed politics and Quidditch may well be intertwining in the coming months.”

Ron was unsure what to make of that last remark, but Kingsley quickly pressed on and changed the subject before he could think too deeply into it.

“Now… to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? You’ve not changed your mind about my offer have you?” Kingsley asked as he addressed Hermione.

Ron saw his girlfriend hesitate slightly.

“It’s not… it’s not that I don’t want to… it’s just… my… I need to…”

“I totally understand if you kids want to take some time off. You of all people deserve it more than anyone. You shouldn’t rush into-

“I need to find my parents!” Hermione blurted out. “I bewitched them to move to Australia and forget they ever had a daughter. All I know is the names I gave them and that they flew out to Sydney…I thought if I knew anything more about where they were going it could be tortured out of me. It could take weeks, if not months, years even to find them. I don’t know if I’ll ever find them and if they’ll even remember me when I do and-

Ron held Hermione tight to him as she broke down slightly. Kingsley looked on with quite a concerned look on his face.

“Do you have a picture of your parents, Hermione?” Kingsley asked calmly.

“Not…not on me. I didn’t take one with me when we were on the run… just in-case. But I put a lot of our belongings and family things in a safe place. I could easily get a picture from there.”

“Then don’t worry, Hermione. I have a connection or two in the Australian ministry. If you can get me a picture of your parents by tonight, then I can get their faces on every muggle television and magical newspaper in Australia by the time the sun comes up down under. I can probably even sort you out a Portkey from here to Sydney… we’ll have you reunited within a few days,” Kingsley said calmly.

“You… you can do all of that? Just like that?” Hermione’s voice cracked slightly as Ron saw what he thought were tears of joy.

“Hey, it pays to have a friend as Minister for Magic, ehh? You got nothing to worry about, Hermione,” Kingsley replied, with a wink.

“But…but how could I ever repay you?” she said, sniffing slightly.

“The wizarding world is already forever in your debt, more than most will ever know. Consider this a thank-you for everything you have done,” he said solemnly. “There are far inferior witches and wizards who have deemed themselves worthy of far higher rewards than simply having some help in tracking down lost parents.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“So let me get this straight, Hermione,” Ron began as the two of them walked out from The Big Yellow Self Storage facility where Hermione had retrieved a few family photos.

“Some muggles have so much stuff that they pay other muggles to hold onto all of the stuff that they want, but don’t have room in their house for? I thought that was what lofts or sheds were for? Do muggles not have lofts or sheds?”

Ron really couldn’t get his head around it.

“Yes. Yes they do have lofts and sheds, but sometimes there’s not enough room in them,” Hermione began, pausing slightly as she noticed Ron’s bemused expression. “Most of the time people don’t put things into these storage units for very long. It’s usually just when they’re in the middle of moving house or have had a divorce or something.”

The idea of a divorce was just as foreign to Ron as the self-storage facility.

They were extremely rare in the wizarding world – so much so that a wizarding couple getting a divorce in Britain was practically a front-page news story every time it happened.

The only example Ron could think of was the divorce of Dolores Umbridge’s parents, which had happened well before he was born – perhaps that had been part of the reason why she grew up to be such an evil cow.

“Where are we walking to?” Ron asked, as he noticed Hermione was leading them down a side-street. He had been under the impression they were going to apparate straight back to the Ministry.

“My Mum and Dad’s isn’t far from here. Only a five minute walk or so. I thought we could stop by, not necessarily pop in, but just have a look outside perhaps. I’m just curious, that’s all,” Hermione replied and Ron muttered in agreement. He’d never actually been to Hermione’s house before, so it would be interesting even just to see it from the outside.

Ron couldn’t help but notice that the cul-de-sac wasn’t a million miles away from Privet Drive in appearance. He wondered if all muggle neighbourhoods had this same sort of generic template. Every single house on the street looked exactly the same. There was sometimes a different colour door or garage, but for the most part they were all absolutely identical.

The street itself was practically deserted. There was an old man in the distance walking a little dog – and a stray cat chasing a bird in someone’s front garden, but other than that it was very quiet.

Almost too quiet.  

“But. That’s impossible. How can-

“What is it?” Ron asked, a bit worried at the sound of concern in Hermione’s tone.

“There’s a ‘For Sale’ sign outside their house. But they would’ve only moved out less than a year ago. It took absolutely ages to sort out selling their house, what with the onward chains and what not… even then I had to use a bit of magic to speed it all up. Why would the new owners already want to… Oh Ron you don’t think-

“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed as he chased after his girlfriend who had now sped up, almost into a full sprint to the house she had grown up in.

“Maybe the new owners just didn’t like the area,” Ron mused. “I don’t like it much. Gardens can’t be that big, can they? Be a struggle to have a proper game of Quidditch in one of those.”

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione began. “For once in your life could you please think about something other than Quidditch,” she pleaded loudly.

“Quid ditch? What’s that, then? New slang word for money is it? Old codger like me can nevva keep up.”

The two of them had been caught off guard by the interruption, but Ron noticed at once that it was the little old muggle he’d seen walking the yappy little dog who had addressed them.

“What do you two make of it, then? I’m guessing that’s why you’re ‘ere, ain’t it? ‘aving a butchers at the ‘ouse where the Twickenham Torturer made his name for ‘is-self?”

Ron and Hermione exchanged confused looks.

“I’m sorry… we don’t know what you mean. We’re just here to look at the-” Hermione begun, before the old man butted in.

“You don’t mean you’re actually ‘ere to view the ‘ouse for sale?! Christ. I know they must be selling it quite cheap by now to try and flog it, but bloomin’ ‘eck, surely you wouldn’t actually wanna live in a place where four people were murdered?!”

“Mu-mu…murdered?” Hermione gasped.

“Yeah. You two been living under a rock or something, ‘ave ya? It was a national story. Put us on the map it did. Bloody nightmare. Taken about 10 grand off the value of my ‘ouse, that has. ‘appened about 7 or 8 months ago. A family of four bought the ‘ouse off this nice couple who moved to Australia. ‘ad the right idea they did – this country’s gone to the dogs now anyway, what with Labour in they’ll have all the bloody foreigners coming ova’ now. But yeah nice young couple moved in…Mum and a Dad…two lovely young kids… little boy and a little girl, think the youngest was only 3.”

“And they…. They were murdered?! The children too?!” Hermione asked, utterly horrified. Ron too was bewildered by what he was hearing.

“Oh yeah! Nasty business it was, but ‘ere’s the thing that nobody could figure out. They’d all been tortured they had. The wife… the ‘usband… especially the little girl and the little boy. But none of the doctors or police could figure out ‘ow they died. None of them ‘ad any stab wounds or blunt force trauma to the ‘ead… nothing. The coroners all concluded that the torture alone should not ‘ave been enough to kill ‘em.”

“So they never found out who did it?” Ron asked.

“You what? Never found out who did it?! Corr blimey you two ‘ave been living under a rock, ain’t ya! The police were stumped for weeks weren’t they, but then they found out the bloke’s brother had a spare set of keys, didn’t he?”

“And so he…” Ron began, but the old man was too eager to finish his story.

“So one day ‘e just lost it, didn’t ‘e? ‘e’d only just been discharged from Iraq for a few months, they reckon ‘e was struggling to get back to civilian life. Post-traumatic stress or whatever it is they call it. ‘is missus left ‘im and they reckon ‘e walked in one day and just went nuts at them. Ain’t sure if ‘e was ‘aving visions or flashbacks or whatever… but ‘e tortured them all and then managed to kill them all. That’s the funny part though… police couldn’t actually find ‘is DNA on any of them, but course ‘is DNA was all over their gaff where ‘e sometimes popped in and out.”

“So they convicted him? Even though there was no concrete evidence that he did it?” Hermione asked in horror.

“It couldn’t ‘ave been anyone else though. No sign of a break in. ‘e’s the only person with a key. ‘ad to be ‘im. ‘ad to be,” the old man concluded.

“What if it wasn’t him? He’ll spend the rest of his life behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit and-

"Won’t be much danger of that. Fella ‘ung ‘imself the night he got convicted. Spent the whole trial in  tears adamant that ‘e didn’t do it. Felt bad for ‘im in a way. Probably didn’t even remember doing it. Anyway I best be off, won’t keep you kids no longer, ‘er at ‘ome will ‘ave me guts for garters if I’m not back soon.”

The old man sauntered off down the road merrily as if he’d been cheerily discussing the weather, rather than a brutal homicide.

Hermione looked haunted by what he had told them.

Of course it was obvious what had really happened.

Ron had thought Hermione had perhaps been a bit over-cautious in hiding her parents on the other side of the world, but she had been very clever- and very right in what she had chosen to do.

She always was.  

#romione #ronweasley #ron x hermione #hermione x ron #hermione #hermione granger #hermionegranger #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harrypotter #hp fanfic #hpfanfiction #hp #hpff #fanfiction #fanfic

[365days365movies]

April 3, 2021: Duck Soup (1933)

Time for talkies! That sounds weird, doesn’t it?

The year after The General, the first writing was put on the wall for Keaton and Chaplin with the controversial film, The Jazz Singer. In that movie (which, yes, prominently features blackface, but moving on for now), the eponymous Jazz Singer talks on screen, with the audio being synched up to his mouth moving. This was the birth of the “talkie”, or a film with diegetic sound (sound coming from the film itself, rather than the score). The silent film industry heard the death knell rapidly approaching.

But from the death of one, comes the birth of another. Sure, slapstick would still persist in talkies, inheriting the remnants of the vaudeville era that Chaplin and Keaton heralded from. But now that sound was available, a whole new form of film comedy could be introduced. Enter: The Marx Brothers.

Leonard (born March 22, 1887), Adolph (born November 2, 1888), Julius (October 2, 1890), Milton (October 23, 1892), and Herbert Marx (February 25, 1901) were all born in New York City to German and French Jewish immigrants. Unsurprisingly, at least one of their parents (their mom, Minnie) was a performer, in a continuing trend with all of these guys. Her entire family were performers, especially her brother Abraham, a very successful vaudevillian who went by A Shean. The five brothers soon also fell into this profession.

The began with their uncle in vaudeville, and they became fairly successful. Originally known for their singing, they shifted to comedy after a performance in 1912. The two eventually fused, turning them into a comedy act with music in it. And at some point during this time period, the brothers were playing a poker game with a cartoonist, who gave the brothers their iconic names. Respectively, they became Chico, Harpo, Groucho, Gummo, and Zeppo. And a new troupe was born, but only on stage. It’d be another 17 years before they broke into film. Well, except for Gummo, who went to World War I, then never came back...to the theatre. Just wasn’t his thing. He went into the raincoat business! Anyway...

By 1929, two more things had happened: the first talkies had been introduced, and the Marx Brothers were one of the most popular theatre acts in the country. They also had some competition in that arena from two other acts. On stage, three brothers, Moses, Jerome, and Samuel Horwitz, also Jewish and also from New York City, joined up with a man named Ted Healy, and a comedian named Larry Fine, and formed the vaudeville group known as the Three Stooges. 

Meanwhile, in silent film, British comedian Stan Laurel teamed up with American comedian Oliver Hardy, and the two made a lot of short silent films together, all of which were shorts. The tall, talkative, and rotund Hardy and the thin, stoic, childlike Laurel were a perfect pair and were known as, of course, Laurel and Hardy.

These two groups were worthy competitors, both for the Marx Brothers, and for Chaplin and Keaton’s form of comedy. And their popularity similarly built over the course of the 1920s. But the Marx Brothers were then given a unique opportunity, before any of the others had the chance. In 1929, Paramount Pictures funded a film, 93 minutes long, which brought the Marx Brothers to the big screen. And this film was a talkie, called The Cocoanuts.

The Cocoanuts was pretty successful, and certainly launched the career of the Marx Brothers. Laurel and Hardy had a talkie come out earlier that month, but it was a short rather than a feature film. And the Stooges wouldn’t be in a film at all until the following year! The Marx Brothers made the leap to the silver screen with verbal comedy, arguably before any other major comedians had the chance to.

The next year, Animal Crackers came out, launching them to even greater fame. This is especially in the case of Groucho Marx, whose greasepaint mustache and quick wit was a huge hit with audiences all over. They moved from New York City to Hollywood, and became bonafide movie stars. Monkey Business in 1931 was their first production not based on their stage acts, and was also a big hit. Horse Feathers in 1932 increased that fame EVEN FURTHER, and there was absolutely no way their stardom could increase from there.

Right?

1933. The Marx Brothers meet up with Leo McCarey, a director you may remember from An Affair to Remember, back in February. They reunite with Margaret Dumont, a comic foil to the brothers who had been in The Cocoanuts and Animal Crackers, and the honorary fifth Marx Brother, according to Groucho (sorry, Gummo). Paramount Pictures funded them for the last time, and the brothers would make a film that wouldn’t perform well in the box office...but is considered their great work on film, basically universally.

Let’s watch it, shall we? Time for some Duck Soup! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

After the opening credits, which includes a bunch of ducks in a bucket ON FIRE, JESUS, we enter the country of Freedonia, a small, bankrupt, and fictional country. The leaders, including President Zander (Edmund Breese), are asking wealthy widow Gloria Teasdale (Margaret Dumont) to give them ore money. She agrees, on one condition: that the President step down, and that a man named Rufus T. FIrefly (Groucho Marx) be appointed new leader of Freedonia.

At a party celebrating his ascension, we met Ambassador Trentino (Louis Calhern), the ambassador of a rival nation, Sylvania. With his beautiful spy Vera Marcal (Raquel Torres), he plots to take over by having her woo Firefly. At this point, his secretary, Bob Roland (Zeppo Marx), arrives to the hall, and the group questions where Firefly is. They note that he’s always on time, and begin to sing the national anthem in anticipation of his arrival. Sucks that he’s still in bed.

He slides down a fireman’s pole as they continue to repeat the anthem, as if repeating a theatre cue, and begins...well, he begins being Groucho Marx. He spits out so many lines at such a rapid pace, it’s genuinely difficult to keep up with it while typing. Check out the scene yourself, if you’re curious! Best part is when Teasdale is talking about her late husband.

Get used to clips; I’ll be adding a lot of them, I’m sure. This segues into another song about the new laws that Firefly is planning on imposing with his administration. He forbids whistling, so I’m never going here. He also bans dirty jokes, smoking, chewing gum, amongst other things. He also basically promises that the country’s going to be far worse than it’s been before. So, yeah, promising.

This is interrupted by an appointment to see the House of Representatives, and he heads there with the help of his car’s driver, Pinky (Harpo Marx). However, the sidecar somehow isn’t hooked up to the motorcycle, and Pinky drives off without Firefly anyway. Funnily enough, the silent Pinky is actually a spy for Trentino, along with Chicolini (Chico). They go to report back to Trentino.

Their report reveals two things: they were tailing the wrong person, and they’re very bad spies. Disappointed, Trentino sends them back out for some reason, and they eventually get into a fight outside, which also involves a short-tempered lemonade vendor. Which is, unsurprisingly, another very humorous exchange.

After destroying both his livelihood and sanity, the two pose as peanut vendors and are quickly found by Firefly, who basically IMMEDIATELY appoints Chicolini to a government position, as the Secretary of War. Just then, Pinky steps in, answering a phone with his signature horns as a response.

After replying to all of Firefly’s questions with various pictures on his body (again, this is very funny), Pinky also leaves, only to be replaced by Bob the Secretary, who suggests trying to get rid of the two-faced Trentino by insulting him, with the intent to get Trentino to slap him, and give him cause to get rid of him once and for all. He once again gets in a car driven by Pinky to go there, only for Pinky to take off once again.

At the party, Trentino is trying to woo Mrs. Teasdale, in order to get her money. Firefly shows up, insults Trentino, only for Trentino to insult him back. He slaps Trentino in response, leading to the opposite intent, and Trentino declares that the countries are now on the verge of war. That night, Teasdale speaks with Trentino, who is to be summoned back to his country. However, he promises to remain if Teasdale can convince Rufus against war.

Rufus agrees to come over, and proceeds to flirt with/intensely neg Mrs. Teasdale. He meets with Trentino once again, who is also with Vera. After another confrontation in which Rufus makes a reference to an old song about my African Americans exist (it’s not called that, and it’s SO BAD, but it’s not with malicious intent; just ignorance), and war between Freedonia and Sylvania is even more likely than before.

That night, Pinky and Chicolini are sent by Trentino to infiltrate Mrs. Teasdale’s place, as Vera has discovered that the war plans were given to her for safekeeping (which we actually saw previously). As they search the house, Teasdale calls Firefly, and asks him to come over and take the plans. He agrees, and Chicolini (who was waiting for him at his room), takes the opportunity and locks him in his bathroom. He dresses up as Rufus and impersonates him to get the plans.

However, Pinky does exactly the same thing, leading to three of them in the same house. Chicolini and Pinky run downstairs, and Chicolini heads to get the plans, now knowing their location. He accidentally turns on a speaker, and runs off. He accidentally runs into a mirror, breaking it. This is just as Rufus heads downstairs to look for his imposter, and that...leads to arguably the most iconic comedy sequence of all time.

It’s in almost complete silence, and the two are so perfectly synchronized, it’s unbelievable. And it is VERY funny. I mean, it’s famous for a reason. It’s just genuinely a great sequence. But, at the end, Chicolini is caught, and we next jump to a trial, which is, you guessed it, very funny. It also produces on of Groucho Marx’s best and most famous one-liners.

Gentlemen, Chicolini here may talk like an idiot, and look like an idiot, but don’t let that fool you; he really is an idiot!

However, Mrs. Teasdale makes one last ditch effort to prevent war. However, Rufus talks himself out of the effort, slaps Trentino again, and it’s officially war. And what follows is...well, what I can only define as Marx Brothers musical number chaos. It’s war.

Also, I think that’s the last video I can add on this post. Damn, didn’t know there was a limit for that. Anyway, the whole thing is a crazy-ass production, followed by an insanely chaotic climax on its own. Pinky finds a woman he was looking at romantically earlier, and it turns out that she’s the wife of the lemonade vendor from before. He hides in the bathtub as he’s coming in, then erupts out of the bathtub playing a bugle when he comes in. It’s...it’s hard to describe, but it’s pretty funny.

War begins in earnest VERY quickly, and while this entire sequence is pretty amusing...it just reminds me that World War II is yet to happen, and that these guys have NO IDEA how bad war is going to get in the next few years. Whoof. Anyway, Chicolini and Pinky switch sides a couple of times, until eventually siding with Firefly. But pretty soon, the war destroys most of Freedonia, and Rufus, Chicolini, Pinky, Bob, and Mrs. Teasdale are all together in a shelter.

Trentino shows up, and he gets trapped in the door, as if he were in the stocks. The guys pelt fruit at him while he’s caught in there. Declaring victory, Mrs. Teasdale sings the Freedonia national anthem. The boys respond by throwing fruit at her instead, and...that’s it!

Yeah, that’s Duck Soup! Holy shit, that was...both exactly what I was expecting and not really what I was expecting at all. Huh. I’ll get into it, but it was at least very funny! See you in the Review!

#duck soup #duck soup 1933 #leo mccarey #the marx brothers #the marx bros #groucho marx #groucho #harpo #harpo marx #chico #chico marx #zeppo #zeppo marx #margaret dumont #louis calhern #raquel torres #edgar kennedy #comedy april #user365 #365days365movies #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year

[writehardwhumpharder]

Giving up - Carson series

-----Trigger Warning---- This chapter is heavily focused on mental illness, mild drug use, and eating disorders. Do not read if you find any of these subjects triggering. This part of Carson’s story is particularly dark. This takes place when he was 16 and a junior in high school. There is PHYSICAL and EMOTIONAL WHUMP in the form of self-neglect, fainting, and a trip to the hospital.

Carson stared at himself for an unknown amount of time. He couldn't really remember what he was doing in the school bathroom in the first place. He only knew that after he came to stand here in front of the mirror everything slowed to a stop. His feet were cemented into the ground, preventing him from moving. And he stared so closely at his own eyes that his vision started to warp. He looked tired... and he was. It took a full two minutes to ask himself when he last slept and another two to conjure the answer. Three days ago. He'd been awake for around 62 hours now. The fatigue settled deep into his bones. He wanted to collapse at any moment, give in to the static that threatened to pull him under. But at the same time he wanted this feeling to last forever. Distantly he remembered that he was supposed to be in class, or maybe it was lunch. He didn't have any plans of eating so it didn't really matter which one he was missing. Carson forced his muscles to move as he instructed them, using his hands to unzip his backpack and fish out the empty altoids container that was now home to a half smoked joint and some kind of cheap e-cigarette. It's not like he could get lung cancer, he'd just cure himself later.

"Life is meaningless," he muttered as he lit the joint, blowing the smoke out the propped open window. If the bathroom didn't perpetually reek of weed he might be worried about getting caught. The other kids were too scared of him to tattle. He may or may not have played up his psychic abilities so they were convinced he'd really find out anything they said about him behind his back. The bathroom door squeaked open and Carson started to put out the joint before seeing it was some child, a freshman obviously. "Get lost." He said through a cloud of smoke. The kid disappeared without a fight. They always did. Now that he was free from his temporary catatonic state and proved capable of moving and speaking, Carson decided it was time to go find his way back to class. Maybe he'd even learn something. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

Making sure the stub of the joint was completely out, Carson settled on tossing it right in the trash can as he left. The hallway was nearly empty, emptier now that he was around. The hum of the air conditioner threatened to lull him to sleep as he dragged his feet down the hallway. Any intention of going back to class was quickly abandoned when he realized he had no idea which class he was supposed to be in or even what time it was. The hallway was lined with clocks so theoretically he should be able to check but his eyes didn't cooperate when he squinted at the clock hands. Lack of sleep will do that to you.  As the effects of weed started washing over him in waves, suddenly the heaviness of Carson's black hoodie felt lovely on his skin. His hood was already up, covering his mess of dark brown hair, but he pulled it down further over his face in an attempt to breathe in every scrap of comfort it had to offer. His mom washed it for him often, embedding the sweet scent of laundry detergent into its fibers.

Carson found himself in the staircase. Naturally his feet had led him here, one of the most tranquil places in the school. The walls and stairs were painted a solid white and large windows let in the mid-afternoon sunlight. In the back of his mind he couldn't forget that this wasn't where he was supposed to be. His mom would be so sad if she received another call from the school about his frequent disappearances. She said she understood how he felt. That he needed to get away sometimes. But still, she had basic hopes for him to graduate high school and get a decent job. As of now he wasn't on track toward either of those goals because while he still got A's in most of his classes his lack of attendance was borderline truancy.

"Um, Carson?" Someone asked from the connecting hallway. Carson looked up through red, glazed over eyes. It was Pete, one of the football players in his 4th period science class. "Mrs. Finn asked me to find you and bring you back to class." He stated plainly.

"Did she now?" Carson asked, habitually glancing at his left hand for something to smoke. Disappointment washed over him when he found it empty again.

"Yeah. She said she won't mark you up if you come back for the last 15 minutes," said Pete. Carson could tell he was trying really hard not to provoke him.

"Lucky me," Carson drawled, turning his gaze to the window beside him.

"Are you coming?" Pete asked when he'd officially lost Carson's attention again.

"Mmm, yeah I guess."

Without another word Pete turned around and allowed Carson to follow a few feet behind him. Pete wasn't so bad. He treated him more or less like everyone else did but being a tough football player he couldn't admit to being scared of him. It was refreshing to get within ten feet of someone without them flinching. Wow, he was so alone that walking vaguely near another person felt like a treat. They walked for quite a ways, showing just how far Carson had wandered. They had to go to the other end of the school and up a flight of stairs. The stairs proved to be a bit of a challenge. Carson was just so tired, physically, mentally, spiritually. That single flight of stairs took everything out of him. He had to grab onto the railing and half haul himself up with his arms. Pete waited up at the top while Carson took his sweet time with each and every step upward. Spots started to dance around his vision alarmingly but Carson wasn't about to admit that to Pete. Instead he focused on breathing a little quieter and keeping his eyes on the ground.

"You, uh, seem different lately," Pete said experimentally.

"How so?"

"Like... you're giving in. Becoming what people think you are." Carson stopped, speechless.

"Nevermind. What do I know?" Pete laughed nervously.

"You think, I'm not, what people think...?" The question sounded as disassociated as Carson felt but Pete still understood him.

"I think you could be dangerous, if you wanted to be. But you're not so different from every other student here trying to get through the day. Don't prove them right."

Carson laughed and stumbled a bit, catching himself at the last moment. Pete didn't miss the slip. There was judgment in his gaze, and something else, pity. Carson almost felt bad for being stoned right now. "Shouldn't class be over by now? We've been walking for forever." Carson whined.

"It's been 3 minutes," Pete corrected.

"Right, sure."

Pete had the decency to look forward while still slowing his pace to match Carson's. He wasn't watching when the spots took over Carson's vision again. The floor rocked beneath him, threatening to send him stumbling into the wall. What's wrong with me? Carson questioned himself. Maybe it was the complete lack of sleep and fuel normally used to propel a person. In any case, the carpet was looking real cozy right about now. The plaid pattern was so inviting as if to say Go ahead, sleep. You could just lie down right here, right now.

"Hey, wait a second. I wanna take a nap," Carson spoke up.

Pete spun around to dispute an impromptu nap when they were mere yards from the classroom but Carson had already resigned to the weight dragging him down. His eyes fluttered closed as the world tilted on its side. He collided with the carpet in a way that should have hurt but all he felt was warmth and oblivion. Why bother  anymore…

---

Carson woke up in an ambulance. Not the floor where he'd fallen asleep, not the nurse's office at the school, but an ambulance speeding down the highway. Either he'd slept through the initial evaluation from the nurse or they had thought it was that urgent enough to warrant a trip straight to the hospital. It was impossible to guess how long he had been out. Carson hadn't even considered that things might get this bad. He just needed some sleep, right?

A paramedic fussing with some tubes noticed his eyes open and put a hand down on his shoulder in case he tried to sit up. "Just lay down and relax. We're almost to the hospital." He said with a light squeeze on his shoulder before lifting his hand away and going back to what he was doing.

"Wha's that?" Carson slurred.

"We're just starting you on an IV, you're very dehydrated. The doctor will be able to tell you more."

"Did anyone call my mom?"

"Yes, the school is required to. I'm sure she'll meet us there as soon as she can." He said reassuringly.

They settled back into silence, leaving only the sound of tires skidding across bumps on the freeway. The siren wasn't on, it wasn't serious enough to warrant it. Carson was left to stare up at the metal roof of the ambulance wondering just how the hell he had gotten here. It added up. The lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of water, and the lack of will to obtain any of those things for himself. No doubt his mom would lose her shit and start watching him like a hawk at home. She'd probably offer to make his favorite foods and tuck him in at night just to make sure he actually ate and slept. She'd offer to help him with his homework then stealthily have him explain it all to her, completing the assignment without even realizing it.

"We're here. There will be a little bump as we guide out the stretcher," the paramedic said. His partner who had been driving came around the back to help and as promised there was a harsh bump when the wheels hit the ground, "there we go."

A nurse met them at the door and reviewed all the information they had while directing the paramedics to transfer him to ER bay 3. The whole thing was surprisingly boring, not at all like they showed on tv. It was embarrassing too. Something about laying down while everyone else is standing.. or the fact that most of this was overkill.

"Okay, Carson Hall, aged 16, date of birth November 8th, 1992. Your home address is listed as 2447 Farelly St. Is all that information correct?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"And you lost consciousness while at school," she said, reading off a paper.

"Apparently."

"Right, well, staying unconscious for longer than 10 minutes is concerning so I'm going to ask the doctor to order some tests. I'll just check your IV, okay, looks good," she said as she poked at him and double checked that the tubes and drip speed were all correct.

"Are all those tests really necessary?" Carson asked.

"We only need a couple blood samples to run them, it'll take less than a minute of your time." She informed him.

"You know what? I just remembered I don't have health insurance," Carson said, sitting up. She didn't stop him from sitting but she practically swatted his left hand away when he tried to touch the IV site.

"Nice try but you have to stay until a parent or guardian can sign you out. Your condition isn't serious for now so we'll wait for authorization before running tests. I want to be clear with you though that while you're not actively dying, long term neglect of your health can have serious consequences." Said the nurse. There was a slight sweetness to her tone. It wasn't entirely dry and blunt like many ER nurses he's encountered. "For now, feel free to get some sleep. If you need anything you can press that red button there. Any questions?"

"No."

The nurse dragged the curtain around his bed partially closed for some more privacy. While the ER wasn't exactly busy at that time of day she had other patients to tend to. Carson was left to sit on his bed and wait. Luckily he still had his phone in his pocket and the paramedics hadn't felt the need to cut off any of his clothing. He turned it on to find several missed calls and texts from his mom. Carson didn't like talking on the phone but she was most likely driving at the moment so texting might not be the best idea.

"Oh sweetie, how are you?" She said, voice practically dripping with sympathy.

"I'm fine. This really isn't necessary." Carson complained.

"Well the school has strict guidelines for when emergency services need to be called."

"I was just sleeping." He insisted.

"People who are just sleeping can be woken up, honey." He couldn't argue with that. "I'm almost there, see you in a few minutes." Carson heard some honking and swearing from the other end before she hung up. Probably road raging in her hurry to get to him. His phone slipped out of his hand as he involuntarily dozed off again. When he woke up both his mom and the doctor were standing over him.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"The doctor is explaining your test results," his mom said quickly, giving his hand a squeeze. He didn't even notice she was holding it until then.

"Don't you need to take blood samples or something?"

"Already did. The hard part is over. Would you like me to start over with your results?" The doctor asked. Since he was 16 they had some obligation to speak directly to him as the patient.

"Nah. It doesn't matter," Carson dismissed him.

"Actually it does matter. And I suspect you know that," the doctor challenged.

"Just get on with it so I can go home. I can go home right?"

"Yes, your mom can discharge you as soon as we establish a treatment plan." The doctor said calmly.

"A treatment plan for what?" Carson snapped.

The doctor took a deep breath as if what she was about to explain could take a while. "Well we're fairly certain your episode at school was caused by severe lack of sleep as well as severe dehydration. The problem goes beyond that though. You're also showing early signs of malnourishment. The blood test shows several vitamin deficiencies and anemia. The drug test..." Carson's eyes went wide, they did a drug test too?? "...came back positive for marijuana, nicotine, alcohol, and prescription sedatives such as Xanax, Valium, Klonopin, or Ativan."

"Klonopin," Carson stated, answering the unasked question. He didn't bother to dispute any of the other substances. It was all true after all. The doctor made a note on his chart.

"The levels are fairly low so we don't believe you have a drug problem. I'm leaning toward mental illness. Depression or anxiety. It's common for symptoms to start appearing in the late teens. Does any of that sound right to you, Carson?"

Carson laid on his side and crossed his arms so he didn't have to look at the doctor who didn't seem at all surprised by his uncooperative response. When he didn't answer his mom spoke  for him, "Depression, undiagnosed." Having it all out in the open now Carson felt the sudden urge to run far, far away. He could do it. No one would be able to stop him.

"I can write a prescription for antidepressants. We'd start at a low dose and see how he responds. I suggest finding a psychiatrist who can give more specialized care."

"I don't want antidepressants," Carson mumbled into his pillow.

"Are you sure you don't want medication? It is far more effective at treating depression than self-medicating which can make the problem worse."

None of this was news for him. He knew he was depressed, he also knew he wasn't handling it well on his own. "I don't want to be sedated."

"And here I thought you had a preference for sedatives," she told him, referring to the Klonopin.

"Fuck off," Carson bit, finally snapping under the tension of this entire situation. Lying helplessly on a hospital bed while his mom made sad puppy eyes at him and the doctor listed off all his flaws in medical terminology. It felt like his worst nightmare. There was a combination of fear, guilt, and bitter sadness.

"Carson!" His mom scolded, "do not talk to the doctor like that."

"It's okay. It's normal to be upset." She assured her. To Carson though the statement felt patronizing. You'd think it would feel good to have your problems be waved off as "normal" but it doesn't.

"I'll take him to see a psychiatrist for the depression and work on healthier behaviors at home." His mom said.

The doctor nodded, "Sounds like a plan. If you do find that you need more help you can always come back here or see your GP. I highly recommend getting a daily multivitamin and iron supplement at your local pharmacy. Being a nurse I'm sure you're more than qualified to monitor his eating and sleeping habits at home. If you don't have any more questions you can head on over to the front desk to sign the discharge papers."

"Okay."

"Have a nice rest of your day Mrs. Hall," the doctor said, shaking hands with his mother before leaving. Carson was still pointedly ignoring her so she just gave him a closed mouth smile without a handshake. With the doctor gone his mom's attention turned entirely to him.

"Oh, my poor baby, why didn't tell me you were struggling so much?" She asked as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I didn't want to."

"Why? You know you can talk to me."

"Because this is worse. The doctors and medications and all that. I'd rather just be at home." He whined.

"Well sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better. I'll go fill out those forms then we can go straight home. Unless you want to pick up some food on the way?"

"Coffee," he mumbled.

"No more coffee for you. You need sleep."

"Mommmm," Carson whined.

"No. You know I'm right." She said.

---

As soon as they got in the car Carson put his earbuds in to listen to some music. His mom hated when he did that, especially when she wanted to talk to him. Figuring he had already been through enough that day she let it slide this time. At each red light she glanced over at him, taking note of the way his giant black hoodie hung on his bony shoulders. All the signs were there, today was just the tipping point. Deep down she blamed herself like it was somehow her fault he ended up with magic. She wanted her son to have friends, socialize, and have fun. But he was so completely isolated, closed off from the world on both his end and theirs.

Once they got home she made sure he went to sleep on the couch before ducking out to go to the pharmacy. Carson napped for maybe five minutes before a spark of anxiety woke him up again. He didn't want to sleep and eat proper meals, take vitamins and see a therapist. He wanted to see how far he could go like this. He wanted his suffering to be so loud he couldn't think anymore. He had a number of ways to stop thinking.

Carson didn't hesitate to go out on the back porch and fish the plastic bag out of the bushes next to the deck where he hid his weed. He had maybe 20 minutes before his mom got back, plenty of time to get stoned and go up to his room. Everything felt right with the world while he held the joint between his fingers breathing it in every time he felt the need. A haze settled over the backyard and suddenly the breeze blowing through the tall maple tree was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It was like the whole incident at the hospital never even happened. He wondered what it would be like to go to school tomorrow. Maybe it was just Pete who saw him pass out. Carson sure hoped he was the only one in the hallway. Truthfully he didn't remember it too clearly.

Carson sort of lost track of time and had to hide his stuff quickly then run upstairs at the sound of the car in the driveway. His mom would easily smell the lingering scent of weed in the air but at least he had done it outside. Mere seconds after he jumped into bed he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Carson, we still have a lot to talk about." She called out. There was no lock on his door, it had originally been a closet so why would there be? Instead he sent just a hint of magic into the wards drawn onto his door that would keep anyone from entering. She turned the knob uselessly. "Carson, unlock this door." She demanded.

"No."

"I'm serious. It's not cool to use your magic against me like that."

"Go away."

"Not until you open the door."

"That doesn't make sense. Why would I open the door to make you go away? That's counterproductive." He argued.

She sighed. If he was arguing, he was probably fine, she reasoned. "Fine. I'll give you some more time but we will talk about this. Don't forget about your homework." Carson pulled the covers over his head. He didn't really know what to do. He didn't want to change. His mom was going to plan everything out for him, force him to be healthy. The school might even insist on having a meeting with both of them.

All at once the walls of his room started to cave in on him. The tiny space just large enough for a twin bed felt even tinier. It was suffocating. He hastily pushed open his window and took in a desperate breath of fresh air. He needed to get out. He needed to run. And so he did. Carson used magic to orchestrate the escape from popping out the window screen to jumping off the roof onto the driveway. His mom would just have to forgive him.

#whump #medical whump #carson series #Carson Hall #Diana Hall #teenage carson #high school #tw: mental health #tw depression #tw disordered eating #fainting #exhaustion #lack of sleep #dehydration #self neglect #tw drug use #mild drug use #hospital #ambulance #doctors #carson has some problems #this is a dark one #trigger warning #severe depression #collapse #health issues #read at your own risk