Anyways. Goodbye dash I'm gonna go sleep now bye. Love you all <3

thanks for the bread questions guys. knew i could count on you.

i love recognizing that my body is expressing symptoms of physical illness but not having the time to deal with that

Tokyo Tech Training- Chapter 2

Your eyes snapped open and you met eyes with your lover from last night. Fuck. Did that actually happen? It shouldn’t have. Damn it. No, god, no. I got drunk and had an insane fever dream, that’s it. Your brain worked in overdrive trying to rationalize your decisions from last night. Intense waves of shame and guilt washed over you when you realized that you were, indeed, practically sober.

You woke up with no headache. Your hips, however, were a different story altogether. “Morning, sunshine,” your dimpled teacher said intoxicatingly. It was too early for his bullshit. “Please, Gojo. Not now. I’m going to go home and pretend this didn’t happen, okay? Great.” His grin widened as he pointed out, “Oh, so we’re on name-to-name basis now? I thought I was still your Sensei.”

You ignored him and firmly got up only to catch a glance of yourself in a full body mirror. You saw purple peeking out at you from under Gojo’s shirt. You pulled it down slightly and felt at your raw, sore love bites. “Sorry about those, I always like it a bit rough,” Gojo explained, still shamelessly man-spreading in his bed. “I could tell,” you deadpanned. You lifted up the hem of your shirt to inspect the degree of damage he had done to your hips, and it was bad. You could barely even walk straight. You were planning on a pleasant walk-of-shame home, but seeing the state of your condition, that was now out of question. As if he read your mind, he said “I’ll give you a ride back.”

You got a sneak peak into the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer’s morning routine, which included putting on his dumb blindfold and dark navy uniform. He handed you your clothes from the previous night, taking extra care to comment about how he was upset he didn’t get to see you in your “cute little lacy bra.” Everyone had left earlier that morning, knowing from previous experience not to wake Gojo in the morning. In addition, they didn’t want to take their chances while their airhead of a teacher took the steering wheel, blasting trap music way too damn early. You, however, had the treat of experiencing this first-hand. “All aboard!” He said childishly as you stepped into his black BMW. He immediately turned the volume of his music all the way up, humming to Pick it Up by Famous Dex.

You closed your eyes, and muttered a silent prayer that you wouldn’t die in a freak accident on the way home. With your luck, Gojo would crash straight through a KFC Drive-Thru and laugh about it.

You were shaken out of this scary afterthought when you realized that Gojo was driving 65 MPH in a 35 zone. “What the hell? Slow down!” You yelled, but your driver only looked at you and laughed. “You didn’t have a problem with me going fast last night.” You gritted your teeth. Of course he was going to make your drive home as sarcastic and filled with as many horrible sex jokes as possible. The worst part was that you, at the back of your mind, were fighting back a small laugh. But you weren’t about to confirm that he was funny. So you slowly exhaled through your nose, until your breath hitched at the back of your throat.

Gojo’s hand had snuck past the gear and onto your knee. Keeping his (inexplicably blindfolded) eyes on the road, it slowly snaked up to your thigh and rested there. He could feel you tense up and smiled to himself. He loved the effect that even just his hands had on women. The sensation gave you flashbacks of the night before. He touched a bruise on your inner thigh that he had licked and sucked so tenderly last night, and you shuddered. He drew small circles, but didn’t go any further.

The tires screeched to a halt right outside Tokyo Tech, and you clambered out of his car as fast as you could. You left in such a rush that you dropped your “cute, lacy bra” on the passenger-side floor. You didn’t even notice. Luckily it was Sunday, and you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing your teacher until tomorrow. “Have a great day!” He yelled after you, and you flipped him off classily without so much as a backwards glance for your superior. As soon as you got to your dorm, you dramatically collapsed onto the mattress.

You were so tired from fooling around the entire day yesterday that you slept through Sunday in its entirety. You arose early Monday morning and groaned when you remembered that it was going to be your first Field Training day. And you were absolutely correct in thinking that you were most definitely not ready.

“Each of you will be assigned a Jujutsu Sorcerer to shadow for your field practice today. Watch how they exorcise curses, take mental notes, and follow each of their directions carefully. Megumi and Nobara, you’ll be going with Nanami. Yuji and Y/n, you’re stuck with me,” Gojo said, keeping eye contact with you for an uncomfortably long amount of time. You thought to yourself, I might as well just start calling it blindfold-contact, if I can’t see his gorgeous eyes. I mean, eyes. Gojo whistled and led you and Yuji back to his black car. Yuji ran like the track-star he was, yelling “SHOTGUN!” so loudly that you didn’t care to argue.

He threw the door open and leaped into the passenger seat, while Gojo took the wheel and you occupied the backseat. Yuji took the liberty of connecting to the aux, this time blasting Tetris by Derek King. Once again, it was way too early in the morning to be listening to songs about ass. But this issue did not seem to exist for the Tokyo Tech’s favorite resident ass men, Yuji and Gojo. Or as you liked to call them, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb-ass.

Not even a comfortable minute into the drive, Yuji energetically bent over and picked up your forgotten bra. “Ooh, looks like Gojo Sensei is getting some! Who’s the unlucky girl?” Yuji joked around. “Oh, Gojo. GOJO,” the pink-haired puppy-boy fake moaned like an animal in pain while poking fun at his teacher. Your sensei, ever the enabler of horrible jokes, chuckled along. He glanced up into the rear view mirror and made eye contact with you, breaking it as soon as he swerved into the wrong lane. “At least tell me what she looked like!” Yuji practically bursted at the seams. Gojo sighed and offered a single comment to his student that was enough to temporarily stave off his curiosity and shut him up. “She had a great ass.”

You heard a genuinely amazed “Wow!” from your fellow first-year as blush once again danced onto your cheeks. You broke the car’s mounting tension by piping up and asking, “So where are we actually going?” Gojo explained that their Field Practice entailed an actual mission to retrieve one of Sukuna’s fingers. What the hell? You thought to yourself. You had barely one day of instruction and you were being thrown into the deep end already? Jesus Christ. But somewhere deep inside your mind, you knew that Gojo cared for his students and would never let any of them get hurt.

Rudely interrupting your thoughts for the millionth time, Gojo interjected, “But we’re stopping by the bakery first. I need my morning fix.” Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food just as you remembered you hadn’t eaten yet today. With one shitty parallel-parking job, you had arrived right outside the Ichiban Pan bakery. The three of you filed into the bakery, the bell on the door ringing as the sweet aromas supplied you with some much-needed serotonin. You walked up to the counter, and immediately noticed how beautiful the cashier was. She had long, dark hair and a figure that anyone would drool over.

To your surprise, she said, “Gojo...back here already? I knew you hadn’t had enough of me yet,” as she eyed him lustfully. “Of course I had to come back for seconds. Your goods were just so...soft and sweet,” he smiled coyly as he leaned onto the counter and shamelessly flirted back. The woman reached over and toyed with Gojo’s blindfold as his smile grew. She said, “So, when are we going to have some more fun?” He answered, “Always so eager, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn soon.” You couldn’t tell if your face was heating up with annoyance at the thought of Gojo delaying the mission to flirt with one of his girls, or at the fact that you felt...jealous. Jealous that you weren’t the only one he had eyes for, and envious that this girl was older and maybe even more attractive than you. She made you feel plain in more ways than one, and your mind started to wander.

Did Gojo touch her like how he touched me? How many girls has he had before? How many is he with right now? Damn it. You shook off the bothersome thought. Maybe it was your innate competitiveness as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, but you knew you had to get him back. Fair and square. You told yourself it wasn’t because you wanted more from him, but it was because you wanted to make him feel jealous in the exact same way. Whatever it was, whenever the time would come, you were going to leave him frustrated.

Three delicious dangos and thirty minutes later, you found yourself at the site of the curse: a closed off mall. While you were now right outside of the car, you could feel the cursed energy radiating out from its epicenter. “There’s one unregistered first-grade curse that you need to extract Sukuna’s finger from. And I’m going to osbserve,” Gojo said while he sat on the hood of his car. “You’re going to what? I’ve barely had ANY training,” you sputtered angrily, but Yuji was already pulling your arm and dragging you towards the curse. Well, you thought to yourself. Might as well prove yourself a worthy comrade to Yuji and a promising student for...he didn’t matter right now. The two of you sprinted forward as Gojo lowered a dark veil over the area, blackening the sky.

Yuji shoved the front doors open and leapt inside, and you jumped in after him. The lights were broken and flickering, casting an eerie glow over the abandoned mall. The escalators were still running, but you could hear distant crashing sounds. “This way!” Yuji yelled, as the two of you sprinted up the escalator to the second floor. The crashing increased in volume, and it was clearly coming from a destroyed souvenir shop ahead.

You laid eyes on the grotesque curse, which resembled a deformed, melting, red plastic mannequin that was at least twice your height. Its arms immediately extended and shot out at you, but you dodged out of the way. You hadn’t learned any techniques yet, so it seemed like you and Yuji would be teaming up and harnessing your raw cursed energy to deliver blows to the mannequin. The curse opened its mouth to reveal jagged teeth that caged in one of Sukuna’s fingers. “There it is!” you shouted. But in an instant, both you and Yuji were caught off guard and knocked to your feet by the mannequin’s extended arms.

They grew spikes that jutted out and beat into your sides. You yelped and coughed in pain, starting to see blood pool out from under your uniform. You gritted your teeth and tried your best to deliver blows to sever the curse’s arms, but it was useless. Yuji, too, seemed trapped in between the sharp spikes. After ten minutes of intense stabbing pains and useless struggle against this first-grade curse, Yuji piped up. “I think I’m going to have to let Sukuna take over and destroy this curse.” Your eyes widened. You had only heard stories of the demon king, and they were all horrific. But it was between that and death, and you both made the split-second decision. “Do it,” you nodded.

You watched from your position as Yuji let Sukuna take over his body. Black tattoos etched their way across his toned body, which was exposed to you after he carelessly tore his tightening shirt off. His smile grew wide and you heard a malicious laugh. “Fool,” Sukuna said directly to the curse, before ripping its right arm off with brute force. “You think you’re any match for me?” Before its arm could regenerate, Sukuna tore off its other one and freed you before tossing you aside like a corpse while informing you that you were “in his way.” You hit your head against the front window of the store and groaned. You watched the mannequin open it’s mouth and shoot out it’s razor-sharp dagger teeth at Sukuna, but he just grabbed onto the curse’s head and tore it right off with ease.

He reached two fingers into the curse’s mouth and extracted the finger, examining it with a slight grin before swallowing it. “Feels so good,” he murmured while throwing his head back and laughing loudly. A wave of confusion washed over you. If the job was done, why hadn’t Yuji switched back yet? What was going on? You shivered and backed up slightly as Sukuna turned his head to look down at you.

“You know,” he drew out a breath as he kneeled down and picked up a scrap of cloth from Yuji’s torn shirt. “I haven’t taken over a vessel in ages. And that means I haven’t had a woman in a very,” he stepped closer to you, “Very long time.” You looked up at him from the ground, taking in his mouthwatering physique. This curse made you forget about logic for a minute and revert to primal instinct. The first thought that ran through your brain was running your tongue over his abs. However, a second later, you had an even better idea. Why not let Sukuna have his way with me? That would show Gojo. I want him to hear me moaning while he’s still sitting in his stupid BMW, blood rushing to his dick as he thinks about me getting fucked stupid by the undisputed king of curses. That thought alone was enough to push you to answer, “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“You’re going to do as I say. Let me fuck you until you can’t remember your own first name.” Your heat throbbed at that, and Sukuna wasted no time binding your hands together tightly with the scrap of cloth. This was really happening. You were about to get destroyed by the legendary Sukuna in the shattered storefront of a souvenir shop. In the dark. Without any semblance of a warning, Sukuna ripped your uniform top right off of your body, leaving behind only scraps of fabric. You shivered at the sensation of being exposed to the cold. You looked up at him wearing only your plain black bra and uniform skirt, and his eyelids lowered. “Fucking slut,” he said, as he ripped off your bra with the same fervor. He smiled hungrily as your nipples perked from the chills, and groped at your breasts with both hands.

He admired how they fit perfectly within his calloused hands, and how he could feel your heartbeat rapidly soar. With fear. Humans really are useless creatures, aren’t they? He thought before he demanded, “Open your mouth.” You complied, and he slid two long digits all the way inside. You felt one hit the back of your throat and you moaned onto his fingers as they slid back out. He rubbed his fingers back onto your breasts, coating them with the wetness of your own saliva. You moaned loudly with pleasure, positive that your pathetic Sensei could hear you from outside.

“That’s good.” Sukuna approved of your moaning. The thought of him making you arch your back, screaming and crying for him pushed him on further. His hands aggressively found your skirt, tearing it easier than paper. He looked down at your soaked panties and felt the urge to make you feel small and embarrassed. “You’ve gone and made a mess of yourself. I’ll just have to get rid of them,” you saw Sukuna’s tongue move around in his mouth as he forcefully tugged off your panties. His hunger got the best of him, and he bent down to let his tongue take one long lap along your dripping cunt. “Fuck,” he breathed as you threw your head back, hitting against the wall. “I haven’t tasted a woman in so long,” he said, before bending back down and slipping his tongue into your slit.

His strong arms kept your shaking legs pried wide open for him, sharp nails tightly gripping into your thighs, and you could only groan louder. He continued to drink at your slippery juices until you screamed and came into his mouth. He licked his lips as he pushed your thighs back together and lifted himself up. “I’m not even close to finished with you yet,” he growled, sensing you getting slightly tired.

He lifted you up and threw you onto your stomach. You propped yourself up shakily using your elbows while he pushed your head down with one of his hands. You arched your back for him, granting him an easier entrance. Kneeling behind you, he teased his dripping tip at your folds while squeezing at your ass. The buildup was almost too much for you to take, so you began to whine “Suku-,” but before you could finish, he entered you roughly. Sukuna mercilessly railed into your pussy from behind, one hand simultaneously gripping your hair and pushing your head down, while the other dug crescent-shaped nail marks into your hips.

His pace was so fast that you could only scream and curse and whine his name, but he only laughed and threw his head back. “Sl-slower,” you begged, tears spilling down your face, but Sukuna maintained his speed. Your useless request only prompted him to move his hand from your hair to your throat, gripping you tightly. “Don’t ask me that again,” he growled, still thrusting.

You could feel his thrusts become more loose and sporadic, and finally he pulled out and groaned deeply while spilling his cum all over your thighs. You panted and stood up slowly, but you held back a shocked scream. You watched in horror as Gojo Satoru stood before you, blindfolded eyes trailing over the white, creamy liquid dripping down your thighs. You instinctively covered your breasts and cunt, managing a weak, “how long were you watching?” Gojo took a step forward. “Well, I decide to assess the situation for myself when I heard you screaming for mercy, so I came in at about the time...” he mimed checking a fake watch, “a 1000-year-old curse started pounding you from behind.”

You blushed, heart racing from the exposure and accidental voyeurism. You hadn’t expected him to actually come see you for himself. However, your eyes took a quick trip to see a growing bulge in your Sensei’s pants. You smiled to yourself as you thought, mission accomplished.

🌹

abt the trans fetishization thing like. as a trans girl on the internet other trans women have made me feel much more objectified and fetishized than any cis person ever has and like i think its import to talk about the ways trans people can sometimes harm other people

yeah like, the idea that trans people are incapable of being Weird with a capital W about other trans people is just so false... like I gotta tell you, I don't feel very #transappreciation #ftmrealness when I see Steve Roger drawn with a figure like a kelp shake.

also, I had a whole thing typed out about how often I see "fellow" (said thru gritted teeth) transmascs call themselves transmisogynistic slurs & generally act as though they get to reclaim transmisogynistic stereotypes, but I couldn't tie it together very well. I definitely feel like that issue has a place in this conversation, though.

Late Car Talks

Happy Birthday Iwaizumi!! 

Iwaizumi x fem!reader

fluff ( so tiny angst it probably isn’t even necessary to mention) kinda nsfw but like no s**

word count: 2231 

** not my gif **

It was raining outside, the sound of the drops hitting the car calming your nerves. You glanced over at your best friend, giggling softly as he stuffs his mouth with a large handful of fries. Although he’s really strict with you about getting a decent nights sleep, you had pouted your way into his car at nearly midnight. There wasn’t much open this late so you two went to a drive thru and decided to sit in the parking lot for a bit. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked, smiling softly. You shook your head, deciding to take a sip of your drink instead. “Okay so, why did you wake me up so late?”

“Well Hajime if you must know, it’s a certain someones birthday in a few minutes,” you said, watching the rain slide down his windshield. 

“You know I don’t celebrate my birthday y/n,” he sighed, taking your drink from your hands and sipping it. 

You turned your face to the passenger window in an attempt to hide your blush. That was true, he never really celebrated his birthday in the three years you had known him. He usually spent it with you and Oikawa with them practicing while you watched, maybe going out for dinner after if you and Oikawa were annoying enough. But you wanted it to be different. His birth was something that should be celebrated, and you never did learn why he didn’t celebrate.

“We’re not celebrating technically, I just wanted to be the first person to wish you a happy birthday,” you replied, glancing at the clock, “And on that note, happy birthday.”

“A text not good enough for you?” he teased, shaking his head, “thank you y/n, I do appreciate it you  know.” 

You smiled at him, stealing your drink back. The two of you sat in his car for another fifteen minutes in comfortable silence, his ringing phone breaking it. He turned it over, seeing Oikawa’s name flash across the screen. He huffed, answering the facetime call.

“Yes Shittykawa?” he answered, making sure you weren’t in frame.

“How rude! I call you to be the first to tell you happy birthday, to prove to you that I am the better best friend,” Oikawa scoffed, Iwaizumi glancing at you with a small smile, “That I care the most and this is how you treat me!”

“I hate to break it to you but y/n  beat you to it,” he replied, turning the phone to face you. You waved, laughing loudly at the indignant look on Oikawa’s face. 

“You two went out without me? You might as well have invited Ushijima with the level of betrayal you have just done!” 

“That’s actually not a bad idea, y/n you have his number right?” 

“DON’T YOU DARE-” Iwaizumi hung up on him.

You stared at each other before bursting into laughter together. This was always your favorite thing to do with him. Just sit in such a seemingly boring place and have the time of your life. He made you feel comfortable and cared about in a way no one else did. You had been crushing on him for the majority of your friendship. Every time you got the courage to say something either your fear of ruining the friendship got in the way or Oikawa’s presence did. You could handle rejection if you remained friends, but definitely not if Oikawa was around. 

“This is nice,” he stole one of your fries, his already empty. 

“Yeah it is,” you agreed. 

‘This is it y/n, you can do it. Just tell him you like him. What’s the worst that could happen?’ you thought, your nerves flaring up again.

He turned to look out the windshield, fiddling with his steering wheel. “So I noticed you’ve been hanging out with the Karasuno guys lately.”

“Oh, uh yeah I have, they’re not bad guys,” you didn’t know where that came from, or even how he knew but it threw you off. 

“Yeah I know they’e not,” he sniffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you like any of them?”

Oh. Oh.

“The Karasuno guys?”  you spluttered, your cheeks flamming. “No, no I don’t like any of them, I do like someone though.

‘Okay miss confident,’ you thought, silently praising yourself for slipping that in. You didn’t notice the tenseness in his arms after the words left your lips. 

“Tell me about him?” he asked, his fingers coming to a stop against the wheel.

“Well I’ve known him for a long time,” you started, your voice going softer, “he’s kind, and funny. I feel like I can be myself around him. I’ve never met anyone as caring or as dedicated as him, he’s a complete dork sometimes.”

“But he’s a cute dork, you know?” you continued, keeping your eyes glued to the passenger window, afraid you’d lose all confidence if you looked at him.

“He sounds great, do I know him?” his words came through gritted teeth, but still held a certain softness to them.

“Yeah you do,” you hummed, wondering if he was going to catch on, “He has a brilliant smile, sometimes he smiles at me and it feels like the air has left my lungs but I don’t mind, because it’s him. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

“Never  trust a man whose smile steals the breath from your lungs,” he said, turning to look at you as he did.

 He took your hand in his, pulling your attention to him. His eyes were filled with something you couldn’t place and a seriousness you only ever saw in them when he was playing. Your breath caught in your throat, the palms of your hands feeling wet against his hand and your jeans. 

“I’m serious y/n,” he sighed, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “men like that will make you fall in love with them without even trying and then they will leave you in the dust, because they don’t know what it means to truly love someone.” 

“I-”

“No listen, I know you’re talking about Oikawa and it’s fine, I get it, I’ve never met a girl who didn’t crush on him at least a little bit,” you could hear the resentment in his voice but let him continue. “But I don’t think he’s capable of loving anyone but himself like that, he can’t love you the way you deserve. He’s a great friend but if you date, volleyball will always come first. Do you want to be in a relationship like that? Where you’re a second  thought all the time?”

“I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t talking about him then,” you replied, feeling your chest fill with the care he had for you. 

Even if he didn’t return your feelings, you were confident now that he wouldn’t let that ruin your friendship. He cares about you in a deeper way that you never realized, and it just made you love him more. He gave you a confused look, his eyebrows pushed together. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, knowing that he was probably wracking his brain for someone else who matches the things you said. 

“Then who?” he asks after a moment, letting go of your hand. “I don’t care who it is, if he hurts you I’ll have Oikawa set a ball into his face.”

“Why would you ever do that to your own face, you know how hard he hits that thing?” you snorted, slapping your hands over your mouth as the words registered. “I mean, why would you do that to someones face ha ha.”

“It’s me?” he asked breathlessly, his eyes filling with tears. You panicked, cupping his face and lifting it a bit so the tears wouldn’t fall. 

“I know you don’t like me back but please don’t cry!” you rushed, feeling the guilt settle into your stomach. Of course you would make him cry on his birthday.  Good job y/n.

He took your hands in his again, pulling them from his face and looking down at you. He laughed softly, shaking his head. ‘Okay ouch,’ you thought, trying to take your hands from his. He only tightened his grip, pulling you closer into him. The middle console pressed against your hip as his face sat mere centimetres from yours. You froze, your breath once again leaving your lungs. You momentarily wondered how you survived around him so long when it was so easy for him to cut off your oxygen supply. 

“There’s this girl I love, she’s a real idiot sometimes but that’s okay I guess because I am too,” he whispered, his eyes staring into yours. “She’s annoying, and drags me into the craziest things sometimes, she never lets me do anything without teasing me for it or laughing at me, and I’m really lucky because I found out she loves me too, on my birthday of all days.”

He  smiled at you, watching your freak out with amusement. You were frozen to your seat, but he could see the inner freak out in your eyes. He raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if you were going to respond. 

“Do you mean that?” you finally got the words out, your hands shaking in his. 

“You know me, I’d never make a joke out of my feelings, let alone yours.”

“Yeah you’re right,” you mumbled, more of confirming it for yourself than for him. 

“Can I kiss you y/n?” you nodded, not trusting your mouth not to let out a yelp if you spoke. 

He moved one hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. He stopped right before his lips touched yours, asking again for consent with his eyes. At the small nod against his hand he pressed his lips against yours. 

You melted into the kiss, every nerve leaving your body from such a simple touch. You had imagined what it would feel like to kiss him a thousand times. Would you feel fireworks like the movies talk about, or maybe you’d feel like you had been set on fire. But you never imagined this. This feeling of comfort, of perfection, like your lips were made to be pressed against his.

His tongue slid across your bottom lip, just barely grazing it. A silent request, one that was so deliberate, you knew he was leaving what happened next in your hands. You opened your mouth, feeling his tongue slide against yours. You let out a soft moan, unable to control yourself. 

He smiled against your lips, pulling back when he couldn’t contain his chuckles anymore. You pouted, pushing his chest with a deep blush.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you whined, hiding your face. 

“I’m not, you’re just so cute,” he said, a hint of laughter woven into his words. “Do you want me to kiss you again or did I ruin the moment?” 

“Kiss me again please.” 

He beamed at you, pulling you back in. You winced against his mouth, the console pressing harder into your hip due to the angle you had turned. He pulled back, looking at you with concern then glancing at the console. He snorted, lifting you from your seat and pulling you into his lap. You shrieked, grabbing his shoulders for stability. 

“Is this okay? I really wanted to keep kissing you but I don’t want you hurting,” he explained, his cheeks a light pink. You didn’t answer, just leaning down to meet his lips again.

 You were addicted to the feeling of his lips, the way his tongue rolled against yours in such a perfect way. You couldn’t control the small moans  and whimpers that left your lips. You let out a louder moan, his grip on your hips tightening. Your body moved on instinct, your hips rolling against his. He let out a moan, his hips canting up against yours. 

“Okay we have to stop,” he gasped, pulling his lips from  yours, laughing at the way you chased them with yours.

“Why,” you whined, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

He rocked his hips up again in answer. You moaned, blushing and hiding your face in his neck. The rumble of his laughter against your chest not pulling your attention from the hardness pressed right against your core. You were so absorbed in his lips you didn’t register how hard he was. 

“That’s why,” he whispered into your ear, rubbing his hands down your sides, “As much as I love you, our first time is not going to be in a mcdonalds parking lot, let alone the first night we confess. You deserve better than that.”

“You say things like that and had the audacity to be surprised that I love you,” you mumbled against his skin, trying to calm your heart down. 

“That’s because you deserve better than me, but I’m selfish and if you want me, I’m not going to say no,” he replied, jumping when you bit his shoulder in retaliation. 

“Don’t talk down on yourself idiot.”

“Okay I won’t, pinky promise.” You pulled back, linking your pinky with his. “I should have asked this before I kissed you, but do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Of course dummy, what kind of question is that,” you snort, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He smirked, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, “best birthday present ever.” 

The Butcher and the Maiden

Summary:

Summaries are hard, has a definite foundation in the series for names, faces and identities but then goes in a different direction. An abducted Vought scientist, secret formula. Starts slow, but smut and major character deaths ahead. Becca isn’t a part of this Butcher’s world. Lots of triggers and consensual non-consensual activities afoot. I hope you enjoy, xoxo

Chapter One: Outpatient Surgery 

“Were you this much of a sniveling cunt before the Compound V or is this the effect?” Butcher growled before he depressed the trigger on the detonator and watched the Supe’s midsection explode from the C4 belt that Frenchie had wired together from phone charger cords.

“Goddammit Butcher, we needed to try and get some answers first. That’s the fifth Supe you’ve blown up, you know how hard they are to get a hold of,” Mother’s Milk growled as he shook his head.

Butcher chuckled as he wiped grey matter from his forehead. “He wasn’t going to give us anything, these fucking Supe’s are all the same.”

“How do you know? You didn’t even ask him anything?”

“No, but I got this,” Butcher said and tossed a laminated ID badge at MM’s broad chest.

MM examined the badge, seeing it was an access pass for one of Vought’s off-site research facilities.

“So, what, we’re going to go walk right in the front doors?”

“Something like that,” Butcher said with a smirk.

Both men looked to Starlight when she spoke from the doorway.

She couldn’t conceal her disgust at the blown apart and remaining visceral stump of the Supe and averted her gaze up to Hughie as he came to stand beside her.

“I could go there, if I got stopped, I could say I was returning the badge, that I found it.”

Hughie immediately began to protest and both Starlight and Butcher simultaneously interrupted him.

“Let me do this,” Starlight murmured.

“She’s a Supe, she’ll be fine,” Butcher grumbled and pushed past all of them.

Hughie followed him to the shabby bathroom as he wiped a damp cloth over the most obvious of the blood stains he could see and paused when Hughie didn’t move from the doorway.

“Stop getting distracted, your bird wants to help.”

Hughie blew out a breath and stepped aside so Butcher could find Frenchie and the Female and bring everyone together to discuss a way of getting into the Vought facility with the access badge.

Frenchie pulled up some info after hacking a Vought firewall and according to a glossary of Vought’s offsite facilities, this particular badge granted access to a building that was classified as Medical Research and Development.

Frenchie continued to check the schedules of the various companies that hauled away documents to be archived or shredded and trash abatement.

MM noted a few things that would be needed with a stubby pencil on a yellow pad of paper.

Everyone gathered around the dimly lit table in the rundown safehouse. As MM outlined a rough outline of the Vought facility, putting x’s on the entrances and rear access doors as well as the safety required fire escapes, Dr. Olivia Phillips pulled her luxury sedan into her reserved parking space behind the Vought Medical R&D building. She flipped down her visor and checked her teeth to make sure her breakfast bagel from the drive-thru espresso hut hadn’t left a poppyseed lodged in between her front teeth.

Olivia dabbed on a fresh coat of peach gloss before pulling her purse and backpack from the passenger seat. She juggled her coffee as she clicked her key fob and the car beeped twice.

She adjusted the thin strap of the hot pink backpack over her shoulder as her high heels clicked on the pavement of the freshly paved lot.

Olivia gritted her teeth as she slid her access badge and heard her co-worker Craig’s voice sound from behind her.

“Morning Florida,” he drawled.

She fought to keep tension from making her shoulders rise and plastered a saccharin sweet smile on her face before glancing back at him as the door buzzed loudly as it unlocked.

“Good morning Dr. Dalton,” she said and fought to not walk stiffly to the employee lounge and locker room as he called to her back. “Oh, come on, call me Craig.”

Olivia stuffed her bags in her locker and slipped on her lab coat before draining the last of her now tepid coffee and taking the stairs down to the sprawling lab in the basement.

She was buzzed in by security and washed her hands thoroughly before grabbing her daily inventory sheets and reviewing the notes left by the night shift.

Olivia pulled a few cultured specimens from one of the deep-freezes according to an urgent work order from a Vought scientist on the third floor. She tagged the specimen and checked the task off her task list.

Doctor Olivia Phillips had no idea that in just a few hours, her life was going to be completely turned upside down, shaken apart and turned inside out.

Olivia was listening to a voicemail and didn’t hear Craig until he tapped her on the shoulder.

She nearly dropped the phone as he held his hands up and pretended that he hadn’t purposefully made his approach as stealthy as possible.

“How’s it going Florida, what do you have planned for your Friday night?” he asked openly leering at her chest.

“I’ve asked you to not call me that,” Olivia said stiffly and deleted the voicemail.

“Sorry, sorry,” Craig said and leaned on the stainless-steel counter and pulled one of the ink pens from its mesh holder.

Olivia hated her pens getting stolen, so she decorated them with garish artificial hibiscus blossoms and gaudy feathers.

“Come get drinks with me tonight,” he said easily and deftly twirled the blooming pen in his long fingers.

Olivia reminded herself to keep smiling, “no thanks. I’m driving to my parent’s house this weekend, it’s their anniversary.”

“Bring me as your plus one,” he quickly countered.

She shook her head as her smile started to fail around the edges. “It’s just a small family get together; my mom hasn’t been feeling well.”

“You always have an excuse,” Craig said snarkily and shoved the pen back in the crowded holder.

As Olivia took in a deep inhale as the head of Vought’s R&D pouted, across town, MM, Butcher, Hughie and Starlight loaded into the dark nondescript van as Frenchie kick-started the foreign made motorcycle and the Female climbed onto the seat behind him, molding herself against him.

They started towards the Vought facility, obeying all traffic laws, and not drawing any unnecessary attention to themselves.

After checking to make sure it was Friday, they decided to approach through the delivery entrance.

There were several surveillance camera blind spots, but that facility wasn’t considered high-risk for break-ins.

As the van and motorcycle closed the distance between themselves and the facility, in the basement lab, Olivia blew out a relieved breath when Doctor Craig Dalton was paged on the overhead system and he had to leave.

She tapped her fingers on the stainless-steel counter as she listened to the next voicemail message and looked up at her educational accolades in matte grey frames with a simple ivory mat.

“Dad says this job is just a stepping stone,” she mumbled aloud, reminding herself that as soon as she logged enough hours she could get a better job in the main Vought laboratory downtown. She needed two-thousand hours with Dr. Craig Dalton before she could apply.

As she logged some chemical panel results from a high-pitched lab assistant in the downtown lab, MM and Butcher breached the service entrance and went to the right in search of the freight elevator that led to the basement as Hughie, Starlight, Frenchie and the Female took the second freight elevator to the first floor in search of the security office.

Olivia cranked the satellite radio station when one of best classic rock songs ever began to play.

As she sang along to the song in a blissfully unaware off-key tone, out in the hall, a security guard who was taking a smoke break returned early and turned the corner, nearly colliding with MM’s formidable frame.

The fresh-faced guard pulled his firearm as Butcher raised his own gun.

Several gunshots were rapidly exchanged and called the attention of two more nearby guards who began sprinting towards the sound of gunfire.

MM’s hand shot out and pulled the guard into a chokehold and easily snapped his neck, letting his body drop heavily to the gleaming linoleum.

Butcher and MM dashed into an alcove and exchanged gunfire with the two guards. MM threw a flash grenade down the hall and the inexperienced guards were too slow to react and shot wildly as the explosion disoriented them.

MM and Butcher’s sites each found a guard and ended them efficiently with a shot to the head and heart.

Butcher staggered and dropped to one knee as his side felt like it was coming apart. MM saw the blood soaking through his ribbed, grey shirt and half-pulled Butcher to the closest open door.

Olivia nearly fell off her padded stool when MM practically kicked in the door, dragging a bleeding Butcher behind him.

She fumbled for the phone as MM slammed the door shut and engaged the deadbolt.

“Put down the phone,” MM ordered calmly as he aimed his titanium gun at her.

Olivia nodded and replaced the phone and swallowed hard in relief when MM put the gun into his waistband. “You’re a doctor?”

Olivia nodded, not trusting herself to be capable of speech.

“Do you have the supplies here to help him?”

“It’s not really that kind of lab but there are some emergency supplies in the cabinet.”

“Get them,” MM shouted and Olivia scrambled to the cabinet and yanked out a plastic-handled case and nylon duffle bag of emergency supplies. She dropped next to Butcher as she yanked on a pair of snug-fitting green chemotherapy grade gloves.

MM watched Olivia as she yanked Butcher’s blood-soaked shirt out of the way and pressed a large, square gauze to the bullet’s entrance wound. MM dialed Frenchie and told them to pull the van around the back and that Butcher had been injured.

Olivia dug around in Butcher’s side and eventually her gloved fingertips brushed against the bullet lodged in his belly.

“You need to keep pressure on this,” Olivia said to Butcher as she needed both hands to get to the suture kit. The blood threatened to seep around her fingertips as she pressed a fresh white gauze to the wound.

Butcher looked at her and arched an eyebrow, his pupils seemed to truss her up and see inside her before he blinked and added with a ragged chuckle.

“I don’t have time for that love,” he grunted as he leveled his gun at the door as it was broken down and a pair of bulky guards rushed inside.

Olivia blew out a sharp breath and shifted until she could lean her hip against the bandage and hold pressure long enough to dig out a sterile needle and length of sterile suture.

Butcher tried to focus on the door and not the woman who within minutes of seeing him, had a gun pointed at her and was then saving his life. He let his eyes move over every bit of her exposed skin as she put several internal stitches to stop the bleeding and then stitched him close.

She felt herself flush at her uneven stitching. “It’s been a long time since you were in clinical, you stopped the bleeding and that’s what matters,” she told herself.

Olivia looked up startled as a skinny pale guy with huge, unblinking eyes and a cute blonde dropped into the room from an off-white ceiling panel.

“What the fuck is going on?” Olivia murmured to herself, but Butcher heard her. He kept his expression neutral and tried to conceal the pain that was radiating from under her busy, gloved hands.

Olivia taped the edges of a thick absorbent dressing as the skinny guy and blonde each got on a side of her impromptu surgical patient and hauled him to his feet.

She found herself walking with them as they scrambled out the rear of the building, pressing a sterile swab to the wound’s seeping edges.

Olivia shadowed Butcher’s half-carried steps until he helped half-slide himself into the back of a van and then started to back up with the intention of returning to the safety of the building.

“I’m going to need you to get in the van doctor, please don’t make me repeat myself,” MM ordered easily.

Olivia felt her bladder tighten at the emptiness in his words and nodded as she kept her eyes on MM’s broad frame as she climbed into the back of the van.

The skinny guy climbed behind the wheel as the blonde got into the passenger seat. The muscular man pulled the van’s doors closed and Olivia turned her attention back to the man she was pulling a bullet out of just minutes after seeing him for the first time.

Hughie pressed the accelerator and the van lurched as it gained speed. Olivia pressed two smooth fingertips against Butcher’s neck and found his rapidly pounding pulse.

“Don’t worry love, I’m still alive,” Butcher murmured as he sagged against the bare metal floor of the van.

“This will sting,” Olivia murmured as she started a saline IV on Butcher and only had large bore needles available that would part his flesh more than necessary.

She taped the plastic IV catheter in place and injected a broad-spectrum antibiotic, not trusting how sterile her technique was considering the field circumstances.

Butcher grunted and then fell silent as Olivia cleaned the coagulated blood off his side to make sure he had stopped bleeding.

Olivia glanced up at him, finding his eyes closed. “Are you with me?” she asked as she tore off a fresh strip of paper tape and affixed it to his side.

“Yes doctor, but I could use some mouth-to-mouth when you’re done there,” he murmured in a heavy, masculine tone despite the blood loss and ensuing state of shock.

Olivia shook her head and attended to the smaller wounds and lacerations Butcher had sustained as Hughie continued driving the van for another hour before pulling into a low-rent mechanic shop that would serve as the new safer safe house.

MM and Hughie flanked Butcher and moved him to an industrial green cot as Starlight held out her hand towards a visibly shaken and fish belly white Olivia.

“Hi, I’m Annie, I promise you’re going to be okay. Just bear with us a while as we get things straightened out.”

Olivia stared at Annie’s extended hand before tucking her hair behind her ears and clearing her throat.

“Hello, Olivia, Olivia Phillips,” she said and closed her hand around Annie’s as she stood from the rear of the van.

Annie trailed her eyes over Olivia’s blood splattered form. “Let me show you where you can clean up, I have some stuff you can change in to also.”

Olivia felt a touch of relief as she followed Annie to the rear of the auto shop and a shabby bathroom with glorious soap and hot water.

Annie set a stack of clean clothes on the counter and hovered outside the door as Olivia took a long time cleaning up. She washed her hair three times and scrubbed her fingernails until the cuticles threatened to bleed. She turned off the water when it began to cool off and dried with the rough towels before slipping into knit pants and a long-sleeved thermal top and blue-grey hoodie with a local burger chain’s brightly colored logo.

As Olivia got dressed, on the other side of the shop in a room that used to be the manager’s office, MM adjusted the lumpy pillow behind Butcher’s head.

MM paused and looked over when Olivia appeared in the doorway and moved to the other side of the cot. She peeked under the edge of the gauze dressing and nodded in satisfaction that the swelling had not increased nor a return of blood loss.

“Why don’t you go clean up,” Olivia said to MM, gesturing to his blood-stained hands and shirt.

“I’ll stay right here, I swear,” Olivia said dramatically and managed to keep from rolling her eyes.

MM finally nodded and went to clean up in the same cramped bathroom.

Olivia tucked the rough wool blanket around Butcher’s side and felt how saturated his shirt was with blood, sweat and topical antiseptic gel.

She tisked to herself and rooted around in the nylon bag she had carried with her from Vought, the company’s name in bold embroidery on the bag.

Olivia found a couple bottles of sterile water and spied a half-empty cardboard box of clean shop rags in the corner of the room.

She was tearing the cellophane seal on the first bottle of water when Butcher’s pained groan broke into her thoughts.

“Am I going to live?”

“I think so, just don’t aggravate the stiches by moving around too much,” she cautioned before she laid the back of her palm against his forehead as she counted his respirations.

Olivia flinched as he shot out his hand and captured her wrist, keeping her hand pressed to his forehead.

“You should get more rest,” she murmured as she tried to tug her hand free.

Butcher nodded in agreement and gave her wrist a final squeeze before releasing her.

The instant knot dissolved in Olivia’s gut when he let go of her and she adjusted the linen up and around his shoulders.

MM reappeared at the very moment her phone chimed from deep inside her lab coat’s pocket. He crossed the room in three long strides and yanked at her jacket, ripping the pocket until he could close his large hand around her phone.

He frowned as his eyes moved over the text message.

“Are you okay Florida? Call me ASAP,” MM read aloud from the rectangular screen.

“Is that some fucking Vought code?”

Olivia shook her head and stared at her phone solidly in his grip. “It’s a stupid nickname, that’s my direct supervisor.”

Butcher hovered between a conscious and unconscious state, but he heard the stupid nickname and tucked it away for later reference.

Annie rapped on the door jamb and broke the growing heaviness in the small room. “You should get some rest too, we’ll take turns keeping an eye on him,” she said authoritatively nodding towards the passed-out Butcher.

Olivia nodded and followed Annie to another room that had a couple chairs and broken-down sofa kept company by a buzzing, blinking vending machine.

She ate a bag of stale sour cream and onion potato chips and can of flat soda before curling up on the sofa with a similarly scratchy wool blanket that Annie had left for her.

Olivia settled on to her back and shifted uncomfortably as she stared up at the water-stained ceiling.

Her frenzied, stressed mind and physical shock response had her thinking of the most unimportant things.

“I forgot to mail the mortgage,” she whispered to the empty room as she thought about the rectangular envelope on her hallway oak entry table. “Will I ever get to wear that new DVF to Caroline’s wedding?” she murmured before sleep finally conquered her taxed system.

Hours passed as she slept, her future still murky and composed of the unknown.

Kylo Ren x Reader

(NSFW)

Thanks for the requests :) This is written by me and full of mistakes. Please be kind, smut is not really my forté

Prompt 4:

Cleaning his battle wound

The echoes of your footsteps rang down the empty corridor as you made your way to your quarters. The crisp white lights of the day were now muted to grey tones for the evening. The hall was deserted on this part of the ship; no one would venture down this way after dark especially since no one wanted a run in with the commander. Having your quarters so close to his would have anyone thinking it was an honor, but to you it was the biggest burden to your job. Any mistake you made could cost you your life, it was a good thing most generals favored your skill set . Still, making your way down the long corridor always made you paranoid. It was as if there was always a shadow looming over you. Usually a few mechanics lingered thru the halls, picking up for the day, but today no one was around. In fact, half of the ship was in the med bay. Today had been brutal. An unexpected battle with the resistance fighters sent everyone into a frenzy. You would think that with all the protocols set in place, people wouldn’t panic and lose their minds. This time a prisoner got away and all of the superiors were giving everyone hell.  So after being yelled at by one of the generals for walking too slow, you were sent to assist the medics as punishment. Your feet were throbbing after running around tending to the troopers all day; it was time for a long bath. With a huff, you managed to drag yourself all the way to your door. You punched in your code waiting to slid inside as the door hissed open. They didn’t. After a few seconds you punched in your code again and waited. Nothing. With frustration growing inside you, you punched at the control panel until the doors finally flew open, ducking away from a few sparks that flew out of it. You had to get that stupid thing looked at again.

You stumbled your way straight to the resfreher and after a few minutes, emerged relaxed and ready for bed. You wrapped yourself in a towel and and looked around for your clothes. You’d left them sprawled out on the bed before you left this morning. You walked back into the living quarters confused. Why was it so dark in here? The air was filled with an eerie silence inside your quarters. You looked around as the refresher door shut behind you. Why weren’t the damn lights turning on? As you rounded the corner you froze in front of a mirror. There behind you was the silhouette of a man. Before you could turn around a hand gripped your shoulder. You wanted to pull away but you were frozen stiff. Yell, cry! Something! Yes words, use your words! A piercing scream escaped your lungs as your brain finally registered what was happening. Someone broke into your quarters. Was it the resistance prisoner?! In an instant the hand moved around to cover your mouth. Your hands flew to your face, trying to pull away from the intruder. It as useless, his arm was a wall of cement against you.

“Are you out of your mind?!” the figure spat trough gritted teeth. The lights flickered on and there in the mirror behind you was the commander himself. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, what was he doing in your quarters?! Your eyes flew around the huge room; it was so clean and adorned with strange objects and just off to the side was a huge viewport that took up the entirety of the wall. It was so beautiful and so not yours. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the surprise, or the sheer terror of what you’d just done, but when you looked back to see him everything went dark.

When you came to, you were sprawled across a couch. The towel still wrapped around your body. That was a dream right? A horrible, exhaustion driven dream you must’ve had. It had to have been, because there was no way you’d actually walked into the commanders personal quarters and used his refresher right in front of him. But it wasn’t, because there sitting at the foot of the couch was Kylo Ren himself , starring back at you with a scowl on his face.

“Commander I-“ you began.

“Save it” he said as he lifted a hand to stop you. “I thought you were competent enough to know where your own assigned quarters are. I will see that your general knows that is not the case” You took a deep sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t killed you.

“Not yet” he muttered at your thought. You winced as he stood up waiting for him to strike. “Leave” he ordered. You stood up quickly from your spot. You didn’t wanna press your luck. As you turned to leave you noticed he had a large tear running down his leg. It glowed red underneath the dark fabric.

“Commander you’re...”

“I am aware” he hissed back as he slumped back down into the couch.

“Sir” you gulped, unsure of where your sudden courage came from “that needs to be treated before-“ A sudden force pushed you against the wall nearly knocking the air from you. You stood up slowly facing him again.

“I believe I’ve given you orders” he said though griten teeth. “Are you incapable of doing that as well?”

“Sir please let me help” you begged. He stared at you for a long moment before giving you a nod. You sighed with relief and turned to grab supplies from the med bay but you were frozen in place.

“No, treat me here” he said and the invisible grip he had on you fell away.

“Sir I need to get supplies-“

“I have some here. If the supreme leader finds out I was off world there’s gonna be hell to pay.” You made you way over to him and crouched beside him. A puzzled look plastered to your face.

“Do you understand?” He wanted you to heal his wound with what? Your hands? There was no way he’d have the necessary tools for you to help him.

“Do you understand?” He repeated. His expression was grave. You didn’t understand, but if there was someone you didn’t wanna anger, it was the supreme leader. So you nodded your head and looked around for the supplies. He directed you until you had all you could manage in front of you. You examined his wound; It ran from his knee all the way up to his inner thigh. The gash wasn’t deep but it was definitely on the verge on getting infected.

“I have to remove the clothing” you said apprehensively.

“Then get to it” he ordered. You fixed your grip on your towel before nodding. With a trembling hand you cut away at the fabric careful to keep it away from the wound. It cling to his body, wet from the blood. After what seemed to be forever, you finally removed the last piece of clothing from him. You covered his privacy with a clean towel and got to work then, carefully cleaning his wound.

“This might sting” you warned as you poured a purple potion over him. His whole body stiffened underneath you, a quiet groan escaping him. You worked as quickly as you could, knowing he was in pain.

“You won’t feel anything after-“ you were cut short when his hand reached out and gripped your thigh. A wave of heat hit your face at his touch. He quickly removed it, sensing your discomfort.

“It’s not working” he yelled as pain pulsed through him. He cursed under this breath several times before settling on quiet moans.

“You need to relax, let the medication do it’s job” He glared at you before going back to his cursing. After a few minutes his whole body seemed to relax. You took the opportunity to begin patching him up. You worked your way up his leg, running out of bandages as you reached his inner thigh. Great. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? You sat back and thought about your options. Only one would work, but you dreaded the idea. His head wiped up to look at you as he heard your thought. Another wave of heat cursed through you once you met his gaze. He nodded and dropped his head back on the couch, numb from the medication. You slowly pulled his leg on its side and leaned your head down to press two clamps into place.

Now for the worst part. You thought.

You leaned in further and closed your eyes as your teeth curved around the clamps. Gently, you bit down into them until they clicked into place. As you moved up to work on the next one your lips accidentally brushed against his skin. The sudden touch made a gasp escape his lips. A sudden bulge began to rise underneath the towel. Your whole body tensed. His legs were now covered in goosebumps. Shit shit shit! A wicked though flashed through your mind. You realized he looked so hot, splayed in front of you, hard at your touch. His hand was on the back of your neck in a second. Without a thought, you leaned back down and pressed a kiss right next to his wound. You must’ve lost your damn mind. No way you’d just done that.

“Fuck” he hissed through his teeth. His cock was fully erect now. His hand pressed down on you, urging you on. You lifted the towel off him, and looked on as his member was freed. The sight made your insides itch. You lifted your hand and brushed your fingertips down his length as you trailed kisses down his thigh. His breaths grew labored, and his hand tangled in your hair. You lined your lips with his member blowing on it gently. He cursed under his breath, pulling at your hair. Your tongue brushed his tip before you took him in your mouth. Your hands traveled down his legs as you began thrusting your face against in a steady rhythm. His hips writhed underneath you as you bit down on his member. His cock throbbed inside your mouth as your tongue tasted him. You continued your work as his hands guided you in and out of him, his hips bucking up to meet your mouth. His chest was heaving as he came close. You looked up to see him as he came undone inside your mouth. His body went limp as you swallowed his cum. You pressed your lips to his cock one more time before you pulled away from him. Bet he was relaxed now. He laid there trying to catch his breath as you stood to pick up your supplies. After a few minutes he sat up and inspected his wound. The medicine had definitely taken effect.

“Not so incompetent after all” he muttered in approval. You nodded and finished your work. As you turned to leave your mind ran wild with a million filthy thoughts. You couldn’t wait to get to your quarters and quench your thirst.

“Y/N” he called out as you reached for the control panel. He motioned for you to approach him. You bit your lip and complied. This time, you couldn’t refuse your commanders orders. You walked back to him, his cock already hard for you again. You straddled him, careful to rest your weight away from his wound. His eyes were on fire as he reached to take your towel off. Your nipples hardened at his touch and a wicked smile spread across his face as he took you in. Your bare body was hot and ready for him to take you. His fingers dug onto your hips, pushing you closer.

“Stay” he ordered.

“Yes sir” you said before his lips came down on yours ready to devour you whole.

——

Thanks for reading! :) Requests are always open

High School Sweethearts Pt2 (O.C)

They had a poor boy, slapping him and some were even throwing punches. Britney and her friends dragged you to them running and laughing. You didn't didn't know what was so funny about this scenario.  Tears were falling as he begged them to stop. You had gotten to the stop of the tiny mound of woods, where they held the boy.

He was gorgeous. Smaller than most boys probably only a few inches tho. His fair skin looked soft and smooth. His face has sprinkles of tiny freckles that were a shade darker than his skin tone. He had the cutest crooked nose and his thin lips were as pink as can be. He had the deepest blue eyes you had ever seen, they looked like gems and tears didn't belong with those pretty eyes. You also took notice of his messy raven hair. The darkness of the black didn't take away the fact that his hair looked so soft. And in just a split second you decided you were not going to stand and watch the poor teen suffer.

One of the biggest guys , Jake, was about to land an awful punch to the poor boy, certainly leaving his eye, that already had a small bruise, swollen like a peach. In mid air you caught Jake's punch. It hurt like a bitch and you might bruise up your small hand but at least it spared the boy on the ground from much more pain than the small sting of your palm.

"leave him alone" you said thru gritted teeth. "Oh come on Y/N. He's just a poor loser, don't ruin your chance at hanging out with us for some little shit." he said. "Yeah Y/n he's just some loser who won't ever be anybody. Just let them have their fun and we can go get ice cream!" Britney came and took a hold of your shoulder. "Plus you're a very pretty girl Y/N we could definitely have some fun, you and me" said Jake smirking like the devil. And that made you snap.

You grabbed the back of his neck and head butted him, making his nose bleed. Then you kicked his crotch and stomped his shoulder. After you had put Jake in the ground you grabbed Britney's hair and threw her to the ground by her little friends. They all looked at you with glares. "That's it! NO ONE puts their hands on me! Consider yourself dead Y/N L/N!" and with that Britney stumbled to her car her little clique behind her.

You turned to the boy behind you who was hiding behind his backpack. He was shaking in fear and more heavy tears fell down his cute face. You grabbed your backpack and sat next to him cautiously taking him into your arms. His heavy sobs were heart wrenching and all you could do is coo soft 'It's okays" and wait for him to calm down at his own pace. And when he did he looked up at the girl who had saved him.

11/2/19

Obedience

Ship - Single!Jared x Single!Misha x Actor!OFC

Rating - 18+ Only!!!! 

Tags - Language, unprotected sex!, SMUT, light BDSM, bondage, rough sex, voyeurism, threesome (no Mishalecki), Misha is a total Dom in this btw…, oral (male and female receiving), spanking (with hands and a whip), hair pulling, fingering (female receiving), squirting, oh and also fluff! :)

Word Count - 3811 (Not even remotely sorry)

Beta - The amazing @kittenofdoomage :)

Written for - @holyfuckloueh

Being a guest star on a TV show was stressful. Kary had only been acting for two and a half years, so it still amazed her that she landed a spot on such a long-running series. Supernatural had a huge fan-base, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t heard of it. Watching the actual show was another story. She had meant to sit down and crank out the available seasons on Netflix, she really did, but her schedule was just too booked.

If she had known how drop-dead gorgeous the cast members were she probably would have canceled some plans and watched it sooner. She swore they were all hand carved by Michelangelo himself. Kary followed one of the PAs, Stephanie she thought her name was, into the Bunker’s kitchen. Even though her part wasn’t meant to be re-occurring, she still loved getting the tour of the place.

Just as she was about to get the rundown of what a day was like on set, Jared walked into the room sporting gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Kary couldn’t help but stare as he stood talking to one of the producers. Her mouth watered at the way his pants hung low on his hips, and how his arm muscles seemed to almost burst through the sleeves of his shirt. Her mind drifted off to thought after dirty thought of him fucking her repeatedly against the nearest hard surface. Stephanie followed her gaze and chuckled.

“So, you like Jared hm?”

Kary blushed furiously and prayed to whoever was listening that Jared nor the producer had heard the comment.

“Yeah … I mean he’s umm … really tall.”

Steph giggled and took her arm, pulling her towards the two men.

“C’mon, let me introduce you. Jared always likes to meet the guest stars. Well, all the boys do, but Jared especially does.”

Karyne could feel her heart thudding hard against her chest as Stephanie approached them. It looked like they were reading over part of the script, but she couldn’t be sure since they were whispering. Jared turned and smiled at both of them once they got in their line of sight. He looked down at her warmly and extended his hand toward her.

“Well hi there! You must be the new guest star. Karyne is it?”

Kary took his hand in hers and admired how his fingers almost completely covered her smaller ones. His skin was warm and calloused, and she couldn’t stop the image of him pressing three of his thick digits into her aching pussy flashing through her mind. She bit her lip to stop a moan and didn’t miss how his eyes traveled down to her mouth.

“Yes I’m Karyne, but uhh everyone just calls me Kary. It’s umm … very nice to meet you, Jared.”

She took her hand back and nervously played with the hem of her shirt feeling his eyes on her. Even though she didn’t think he was meaning to, he really emanated dominance. Jared looked her up and down quickly before turning his attention to another crew member whom she hadn’t noticed until now.

“Hey Jare, they need you in hair and makeup. We start shooting in forty-five minutes.”

Kary watched as he gave her a little smirk and a wave before heading off down the hallway. Stephanie led her to the costume trailer so she could get fitted for her proper demon attire. She would be playing one of Crowley’s minions who had information on his whereabouts. Her character would get kidnapped by the Winchesters and get tortured for said info. If she was being honest, it’s the torture she was most excited for. She’d heard stories from her friends of how sexy Sam and Dean were when they were the least bit authoritative.

Soon she was sporting her character’s edgy outfit and was being led to the threshold of the Bunker’s cellar. Kary was fitted into some black skinny jeans that hugged her waist perfectly. The red tank top showed a smidgen of her midriff and accentuated her cleavage nicely. A pair of black stilettos and her hair falling in loose curls down her shoulders completed her look.  Neither of the boys were there yet, but they couldn’t be far behind. The anticipation of acting out this scene with them, especially Jared, was making her heart race.

A few moments later another crew member, who she could only assume worked somewhere in the prop department, strode in the small area carrying a thick coil of rope. The woman laid it on the lone desk and motioned for Kary to sit. Once she was seated, a couple other people came in to remove the everything but her and the wooden chair.

“Hello Kary, my name is Tori, have you ever been tied to a chair before?”

If she wasn’t so nervous, she would have laughed because damn what an introduction that was. Instead, she shook her head and held her arms out in front of her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tori. No, I haven’t been, but I’m assuming you want me like this?”

Tori giggle and walked behind her and uncoiled the rope.

“Actually sweetie, I need you to put both wrists thru the openings in the back of the chair. I’m gonna tie your wrists back here instead. The rope will be kinda snug, but I don’t want you to be nervous. All you gotta do is say something and we will cut you free alright? Oh, and another thing, the boys can kinda be … what’s the word I’m looking for? … Intimidating, yes intimidating when it comes to torture scenes. If you need a break, don’t be afraid to let them know okay? They are hypersensitive to guest stars’ needs, and no one will blame you if you need to take a breather.”

Kary was glad everyone was so kind and approachable. This was probably one of the best sets she’s ever worked on. Just as Tori was securing the final knot on her restraints, Jensen, Jared, and Misha all walked in sporting their usual attire. They were all laughing about something but stopped when they noticed Kary sitting in the center of the Devil’s Trap.

She felt so exposed as they all stared at her. Jensen and Misha walked towards her, while Jared stayed rooted to the spot. Both men approached her and squatted down to her level, their smiles calming her overactive nerves.

“Hi, there sweetheart! It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Jensen, and this is Misha. You’re Kary, right? Jared told us he already got the pleasure of meeting you.”

She fixed her gaze on Jared who was blushing slightly. Turning her attention back to the two other leads in front of her, she gave them each a kind smile.

“It’s very nice to meet you both. I’d uh … I’d shake your hand, but I’m kinda tied up.”

Misha chuckled and patted her lightly on the thigh.

“With that sense of humor, you’ll fit right in!”

Just as she was about to come up with a witty reply, the director walked into the room with a clipboard.

“Okay, everyone, let’s get started shall we? We’ve only got Kary for a day, so let’s be on our best behavior today boys.”

Jensen and Jared both snickered while Misha rolled his eyes. They all took their places and took a minute to get into character. Kary closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them again. She tested her bonds to set the scene and felt how they dug into the sensitive skin of her wrists.

Once action was called, Kary could definitely see a change in the boys’ demeanor. It was as if they were completely different people. Jensen approached her, his eyes dark with menace, and pulled a knife from one of his pockets. He circled the chair, the thud of his boots hitting the concrete like a slow metronome. Finally, he stopped and knelt down so his face was mere inches from her own. The knife rested against her chest, the hard plastic pressing into her sternum forcefully. Even though the knife looked very real, it was most certainly nothing of the sort. It even retracted into the hilt when it stabbed someone so it looked all the more real on screen.

“Now, listen here you bitch, my patience is running thin. Just tell me where Crowley is, and I won’t drag it out.”

Kary smiled maliciously and let out a guttural laugh.

“You Winchesters always think you can just bully the information out of us. Well, I’ve got news for you pathetic lumberjacks, you might as well kill me now because none of you are worth my time.”

Jensen took the knife and sliced open a particular spot in Kary’s outfit. It didn’t look like much now, but on screen, it would glow and sizzle for added effect. She squirmed and screamed, letting her breath become heavy before replaying through gritted teeth.

“Is that all you got? Guess I better go tell the other demons that Sam, Dean, and their pet angel are going soft.”

Jared’s upper lip curled into a snarl, and Kary felt herself become wet at the sight. She was sure her panties were ruined, but she didn’t break character. The taller of the three walked around to her backside, while Misha came up to Jensen’s flank. Kary focused on his chrome angel blade that suddenly appeared from his trench coat sleeve and tried to break her restraints again to make it look like she was now nervous.

She felt someone grab her hair and yank her head back to expose the delicate skin of her neck to Castiel’s blade. Jared leaned down until his mouth was right next to her ear, and it took all of her self control to stay in her demonic character.

“You gonna talk now or are we gonna have to force you? ‘Cause, believe me, my brother, Cas, and I aren’t the least bit scared of a lowlife demon like you.”

Kary bit her lip right as the director shouted cut. Tori came in to cut her free while the boys commended her on the scene. Apparently, that take was enough, because she was told she could go get changed out of her character’s clothes.

Once she was back in the guest trailer, she stripped off her clothes and folded them neatly on the dresser. She didn’t need to shower since she took one just that morning, but she did need to cool off after shooting. Jared’s power over her was almost too much. Plus, it had been a long time since she was touched by another person sexually.

Kary grabbed a hair tie from her wrist and twisted her hair up in it before stepping into the shower. The cool liquid soothed the aching need she felt, but it didn’t cure it. Jared did more things to her with just a look than any other man had ever done.

Once she was cooled off she wrapped a white fluffy towel around herself and stepped out into the bedroom. This is when she started to notice things that confused her. Little things like a pair of men’s shoes, a t-shirt, and then suddenly it hit her. She wasn’t in the guest trailer at all.

Fear coursed through her when she heard the trailer door open. She had nowhere to go, so she just stood there holding the towel closer to her naked body. She wasn’t prepared for the shocked look Jared gave her when he rounded the corner to his bedroom. He stared at her momentarily before taking a step closer to her shaking form.

“Kary? What … what are you doing?”

Karyne felt her lower lip begin to quiver, her eyes filling with tears of shame as he slowly got closer and closer to her. Once he was in front of her, she let a single tear fall. He watched as it cascaded down her cheek, wanting desperately to wipe it away but decided against it so he didn’t spook her.

“I … I’m sorry I didn���t … I thought …”

She felt strong arms envelop her in a hug, his fingertips sliding over her exposed shoulder blades lightly. Kary looked up at him and sighed when the pad of his thumb wiped her tear away. Jared never thought she looked more beautiful than in this moment. Her raw vulnerability struck a chord in him, and he slowly leaned in toward her lips.

The moment he kissed her, Kary felt like a grand finale of fireworks exploded inside her. She wrapped her arms around Jared’s neck and allowed him to carry her towards his queen size bed. He broke the kiss long enough to drop her down onto the mattress. Tearing his shirt quickly over his head and fumbling with his belt shouldn’t be sexy, but Kary was literally panting at the sight. Finally, Jared was standing bare before her, his hardness jutting out in front of him proudly.

He climbed on the bed supporting himself on his knees taking a moment to allow his eyes to travel over her body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful Kary. Wanted this since the moment I met you.”

Jared pulled her up so her nipples were pressed firmly against his chest, bringing them to hardened peaks. He began to roughly kiss her, pulling her hair like he did during the scene they shot earlier so he could kiss and suck at her pulse point. Kary cried out when he bit lightly at her neck and ground her pussy against the thickness of his cock.

He growled seductively and flipped them so she was on top of him. Jared motioned for her to turn around, and she looked at him confused.

“Wanna taste you, Kary. Wanna feel you cum on my face baby.”

She almost came by his words alone. No one had ever done this with her before. She’d barely done anything with a man before and had only slept with another person once. It wasn’t very enjoyable for her, so she never really tried to find anyone else. It hadn’t occurred to her that maybe the person she’d had relations with before had been doing it wrong. Kary got into position, placing each one of her knees parallel to Jared’s pectoral muscles. He greedily pulled her down and started relentlessly lapping at her soaked cunt. His strong arms held her in place as she writhed above him, crying out his name.

“Jar-Jared! Ahh! Fuck I-I’m close!!”

Kary was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t notice Misha standing in the bedroom’s threshold. For a moment, his jaw dropped at the sight before him, but he quickly felt himself hardening in his jeans. He began teasing his thickening cock through the denim, admiring how erotic the scene was before him. Misha continued to watch as Kary came undone on Jared’s mouth alone, her orgasm ripped through her like a current causing her to thrash and shake seductively.

“Fu-fuck!! JARED!!! Oh, shi-ahhh!!”

Kary climbed off Jared’s face and squealed when she was met with Misha’s lust blown eyes. Jared just smirked, clearly proud of himself for making the other man so worked up. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed at all, almost like he liked the thrill of getting caught.  

M-Misha?! What are you doing??”

His blue eyes darkened with want as he looked her up and down like she was prey.

“I could ask you the same thing Karyne, but right now I have something else in mind. Why don’t you be a good girl for Jared and I and kneel on the bed.”

Kary felt the familiar heat reignite in her abdomen as she climbed on the soft comforter, her knees spread slightly. Misha discarded his clothes slowly and pumped his cock a few times before standing in front of her. A bead of precum leaked out of the head, and she instinctively licked her lips.

“Be a good girl for us, and you’ll get rewarded sweetheart. Gotta do what we say though. Think you can do that?”

Kary nodded and looked up at Misha through her long lashes. Immediately she felt the sting of Jared’s hand land across her ass. She yelped, letting the lingering burn arouse her even more.

“I think Misha was waiting on an appropriate answer darlin’. How about you acknowledge him properly?”

Kary bit her lip and stuttered out what she hoped was the right answer.

“Y-Yes, sir.”

Misha groaned deeply and closed his eyes.

“Mmm good girl. Now open that pretty mouth of yours for me. I’ve wanted those perfect lips wrapped around me all afternoon.”

Soon they built up a rhythm. Misha fucked her mouth, while Jared teased her aching cunt with his tongue and fingers. He’d work her up to the point where she was about to tip over the edge but stopped right before she could. Kary pulled off Misha’s dick with an obscene pop to catch her breath. Before she could she felt two of his nimble fingers lift her chin up and saw his disapproving eyes.

“Oh sweetie, I didn’t tell you to stop did I? I think Jared’s gonna have to show you what happens when you disobey us.”

She whimpered when the tendrils of what had to be a whip slid over the curve of her ass. A second later, a loud crack filled the room as it blistered her skin. The impact of it sent a shockwave of heat straight to her core, her folds becoming slicker with need by the second.

“Pl-please … I’ll be a good girl sir. Please f-fuck me…”

Misha smirked and looked at Jared as he absentmindedly stroked his thick length.

“What do you think Jare? Should we give her what she needs? She has been pretty good.”

Jared ran his fingers over the pink welt that was now becoming visible on the flesh of her ass and licked his lips.

“I thought you’d never ask. Didn’t know how much longer I could wait.”

Misha chuckled and pushed Kary down onto the bed, admiring how her breasts bounced invitingly. He crawled over her and placed a loving kiss to her lips.

“I think you can wait a little longer, Jared. Seeing as you’ve already made her cum once, I think it’s my turn. Why don’t you go sit in that chair over there, and let me show you how it’s done.”

Kary thought for sure that he would argue with the other man, but surprisingly he didn’t protest at all. She watched as he took a seat and almost immediately begin running his hand over his sizable member. Her attention quickly reverted back to Misha as she felt his lips start to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her body. He looked up into her eyes, marveling at her little whimpers and pleas from just his lips.

“Oh god… please …need to feel you…”

Misha settled himself between her legs and lined himself up before pushing into her tight heat. Kary’s back arched off the bed as he thrust into her relentlessly, not giving her time to adjust to his size. Her screams reverberated off the trailer’s walls, her hands gripping the sheets to stay grounded, as she felt herself close to the edge.

“Mish-ahhhh! Oh right there… I’m gonna… gon-ah!!”

Misha snarled, positioning himself so he was hitting her sweet spot over and over.

“C’mon sweetheart, cum for me. Fuck! Cum all over my cock baby!”

His words were like a switch, sending her into pure bliss. Her walls contracted around his cock almost making Misha lose his load, but he had other plans. He didn’t want to cum just yet. As soon as he pulled out of her Jared was on the bed. Kary squealed as he picked her up effortlessly and placed her on all fours. He leaned down over her shoulder and spoke praises in her ear.

“You did so good darlin’. Took Misha’s cock like a champ, but now you’re gonna take both of us. Gonna take both of our loads like a good girl.”

Misha kneeled in front of her while Jared lined up behind her. He slid inside her eager cunt ever so slowly making Kary feel every inch of him. Her breath was ragged, her eyes shut tight at the sensation. Once he was fully seated, she felt the tip of Misha’s dick press against her mouth. She opened on command and took as much of him as she could. Both men groaned at began a steady rhythm.

Kary felt so full, her eyes watering as Misha assaulted her mouth over and over again. The burn in her throat making her all the more stimulated. Jared’s hips began to stutter, and sweat dripped onto her body.

“Kary.. oh fuck… not gonna last… c’mon baby cum with me.”

Misha gripped her hair to hold her still as he guided his cock into her hot mouth, his own orgasm just around the corner. Jared pistoned into her bundle of nerves at a brutal pace, and suddenly felt Kary start to shake. Her cries became louder as he felt her walls contract around him. Just as he felt the first ropes of cum shoot into her, he felt another sensation. Kary’s own juices spilled out coating his cock and legs just as Misha spilled himself down her awaiting throat.

She was too tired to move, the feeling of euphoria still resonating at what just happened. Misha scooped her up as Jared pulled back the covers. Kary was laid down gently, the soft material soothing against her skin. Both men laid down on either side of her, relishing in the skin-on-skin warmth.

Even though her role on the show wasn’t meant to be long-lasting, Kary knew that being between these two men wasn’t just a one-time thing. The past few years had their ups and downs, but now she felt like she had something to live for. Jared and Misha were her missing link, and she drifted off to sleep knowing that she’d never be alone again.

a worthy challenge

Sorry for the delay, been busy with work and other real life commitments. (Reposting, clean version) thanks to @torilynn4893 for beta-ing

....

"Ah, Draal. Meet the next trollhunter." Blinky said with a nervous smile, gesturing to Nomura."

The fury from the younger troll was palpable.

"Bushigal!" Draal spat thru grit teeth. "You cannot be the troll Hunter. You are not a troll!"

Nomura put on a friendly smile and held out her hand. "Yes. I understand that I am the first human to be your trollhunter. My name is Nomura."

Draal sneered at her gesture. "And just how did YOU get ahold of the amulet? That was supposed to go to me upon my father's death!"

Nomura shrugged putting her hand down.

"I was walking to work and I heard it's say my name. So, curious, I picked it up. Apparently that's how this thing works." She gestured to the amulet on her chest.

Draal did not seem very satisfied with her story.

"I witnessed it myself Draal," Blinky said stepping forward. "Though I did not hear it say her name, it appeared to have called for her and she obviously, given her current attire, answered."

"And I say she is not worthy of that honor." Draal growled.

Nomura clasped her hands and smiled at the burley troll.

"Well, as far as I understand it, I don't think there is anything that can change that. Now I do apologize but I've had quite an exciting night so far. Especially considering I had to run for my life from a rather scary evil troll not even an hour ago. Blinky here was just giving me a tour of your lovely Trollmarket. And I'm quite interested in seeing more." Nomura gave a pleasant smile turning towards towards the six eyed troll.

"Ah, yes!" Blinky said gesturing towards the doorway, smiling. "Let's continue, Master Nomura. Lets me show you my library. Draal, I'm sure the trollhunter can answer any questions you may have at a later time"

...

A little while later, Nomura was sitting in a private corner reading, or trying to, one of the books from Blinky'ss library. She couldn't really read the language as, even though she could speak trollish, she never figured out how to read it. But the images at least were very informative.

Blinky seemed to take great affection towards his books; mentioning that they really used to belong to his elder brother, whom Blinky spoke about affectionately. Apparently many of the books were actually penned by said brother, Dictatious Maximus. The book in her possession however, was written by the Venerable Benhilde; titled 'A Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore, volume one (of forty-seven). Whoever Benhilde was, they need to learn the definition of brief.

Her moment of reprieve was soon interrupted however, when an imposing form approached her.

"What game are you playing here?" Draal demanded.

Nomura looked up from her book and around the room.

"I don't think I'm playing any games. I'm actually just trying to read this book." She replied innocently.

Draal sneered at her.

"You know full well what I mean, IMPURE."

Nomura pursed her lips. She wondered how long it would be till he used that one. She forced herself to smile.

"Yes, and as I said, I'm not playing any games."

"Then why do you have that amulet?" He gestured to the amulet sitting on the table next to the book.

Draal growled. "And what's to stop me from taking that from you right now?"

Nomura chuckled and rested her chin on her hands. She gave him a knowing smirk.

"I believe the only way you can take this from me, is upon my death. And I don't think Merlin would take kindly to a murderer as the next trollhunter."

Draal grinded his teeth. "Then what's to stop me from ousting you right now to Vendel? I don't think troll Market would take kindly to an impure as the trollhunter."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "If you had wanted to out me, you would have done it in the Forge. What's stopping you is the same reason why I am currently still sitting here, and not handing it over to Bular. You are curious as to why I was chosen."

Draal was not happy with how things currently were between them. She was right in certain aspects. He couldn't just outright take the amulet from her, and if he were to try to out her to Vendel he would come off like one of Blinky's many conspiracies, jealous over Merlin's choice. He suddenly got an idea.

"How about a little wager, Nomura?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him using her name. "I'm listening."

"How about a little sparring match? Just like old times." He gave a cocky grin.

"Okay. And what are the stakes?"

"If I win, you reveal yourself as a changeling to the whole of Troll Market, And a relinquish the amulet."

She folded her arms on the table, nodding. "Alright. And if I win, you keep my secrets. No one will know that I'm a changeling."

"Deal." The big blue troll knodded, and started towards the door. Before exiting he turned back to Nomura and gave a big toothy grin.

"You do realize that you have to fight me in your human form. That is unless you want to reveal your true identity early?" He gave a laugh and left the room.

His last remark wiped any smile off of her face as she watched his retreating form, scowling.

...

A couple of hours later, she was back in the Forge, Blinky showing her different things the place could do. It was very interesting to say the least. It was then that Draal issued his spar request formaly. Blinky tried to insist that she had only been the trollhunter for a mere few hours, but Vendel cut him off, calling from a higher platform that he was curious to see how the trollhunter worked under pressure. Blinky sighed in defeat and apologized to Nomura. She gave a friendly smile.

"It's ok Blinky. Besides, I'm not one to back down from a challenge." She pulled the amulet out of her pocket, and recited the oath. "For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command."

And in a flash of blue white light and an elegant twirl, she was adorned with the armor. The sword of Daylight followed suit which she hooked to her hip. Draal approached her cracking his neck.

Nomura got into a defensive position as Draal came at her in a rolling ball. She dodged it narrowly avoiding getting hit by the spiky rolling troll. He came at her again after rolling against the wall to change directions.

"Surely you have more than just this one trick, don't you?" She retorted as she got ready to dodge him a third time.

But before she had the chance, he came out of the role and took a swing at her. She ducked just in the nick of time and tucked in rolled to get out of his reach. She stayed in a crouching position, fighting the urge to transform as she felt her eyes burn. She was just out of his line of sight crouched behind his looming back, hidden in his blind spot. She slowly rose reaching for Daylight ready to end this little spat. However, before she could draw it Draal spun around slamming his fist into her chest sending her flying.

She landed fairly hard on the ground and didn't move after the impact of her head to the ground. She appeared unconscious. Draal chuckled to himself as he walked over to her still form and looked down upon her.

"Looks like I win, imp-" his voice cut out in a screech as an armored boot up to a point between his legs. He doubled over bracing one fist to the ground, the other one going straight to where she kicks. He was completely breathless.

With him being doubled over, that put his face in on opportune position. She reached up and hooked a finger through his nose hoop, and tugged.

"Unless you want to lose your nose, I'd forfeit." She gave a devious smile. Draal huffed and held up his hand in consent and she released him, letting out the breath she was holding.

"One day, you will fall in battle. And when that day comes, I will be the trollhunter. I can wait." He growled, storming off.

Vendel didn't say anything as he walked off, and Blinky ran over to help her up, her complimenting her on her skills.

"How did you think to use his nose ring against him?" He asked as she brushed herself off.

"I used to date someone who had a similar ring. He hated it when I pulled on it." She chucked internally at her inside joke, removing the armor. She looked at her watch, realizing just how late it was. "Oh wow, it's getting close to sunrise, I should head home if I want to get any sleep."

"Ah, yes. I believe Bular should have moved on by now. So you should have a safe trip to your domicile." Blinky responded. He handed her the volume she had been reading earlier, and a horngozzle. We hope to see you tomorrow night."

She nodded, heading towards the illuminated staircase. Her life definitely just got interesting.

Otp questions for Matsuda/Light?

dflkjskaljf;ldfsakj ALL OF THEM????? aight dude.

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

i don’t think either of them spends a lot of money on each other. their relationship isn’t rlly....over the table. but i think matsuda gets light presents sometimes like that sashmi phone charm or fun socks. he definitely DEFINITELY gets light something on valentines day bc he sort of hopes light will do the same but uh light has to go on his lunch break to the nearest convience store and buy some shitty chocolates bc he doesn’t want matsuda to know he forgot. except matsuda like knows, he’s just too nice and a little too into light to say anything.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

matsuda will lay his head on light’s lap while light is doing paper work. its late on a tuesday when they hv light’s apartment to themselves which almost nvr happens and he’s running his hand thru matsuda’s hair. its almost like they’re a real couple. it’s almost like light cares.

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

they r both way too conservative abt their bodies to walk around half naked anywhere but if matsuda spills something on his shirt he’s not gonna soak in that cold coffee. he’ll strip that shirt off and use light’s washing machine and then chill in the kitchen. light yells at him, which scares the shit out of matsuda bc light almost nvr yells at ppl if he can help it, and tells him that misa is going to b home in like an hour so he can’t b waltzing around w no shirt on. then he stops, sees matsuda’s wide eyes and his anger slinks back into it’s cage so he offers to blow him as an apology.

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

matsuda is always getting on light for staying up too late. “you’re giving kira too much of your time!” he says and light just gets this ugly look on his face like he’s halfway to a laugh but also abt to melt. “how else can we bring him to justice,” he says, “if we aren’t giving up some parts of our comfort?” that shuts matsuda up.

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

god they both suck so hard at cooking. matsuda tries to make them like romantic meals and light lets him bc he loves it when ppl do things for him ever at all. all the meals end up burnt and light tells matsuda he doesn’t mind but he rlly rlly does bc then he has to explain to misa why their apartment smells like burned chicken. they order takeout or go somewhere to eat and its rlly uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

oh for sure matsuda sees those, like, couples memes and wants desperately to send them to light and b like “ha that’s us” but he’s not sure if they count as a couple since light makes him leave immeadiately after they fuck. so instead he just sort of casually will announce that this meme makes him think of someone and light doesn’t look up from his work like “what’s a meme?”

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

god they r like different sizes but sometimes, if light is weak and lets matsuda convince him to go to his place, light borrows a shirt from matsuda that’s too big on his all flat angles body. it hangs on him and it kind of....turns matsuda on a little?? they’re all his old college track shirts. light always returns them promptly the next day, washed and folded in a plastic bag.

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

light likes to send matsuda on errands bc he knows he can and also he hates hving to do small tasks so he’ll like send him to get lunch and then when he gets back will get huffy if he forgets to bring like...enough napkins.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

it’s canonical in my headcanon that light is a very bad driver and matsuda actually had to help him learn so matsuda drives them most of the time. light gives surprisingly good directions for what a shit driver he is, mostly bc he has a good memory and spent a lot of time using the subway so he knows his streets. get him out in the country tho and he’s like “uhhhh turn left?? maybe right??? lets use the gps.”

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

light poses and matsuda draws a shitty stick figure w a tie on. light must stiffle the urge to rip it up and it’s the greatest feat of strength he’s ever managed.

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

uhhuhuhuuhhh shit man i literally hv no idea with this one!!! neither of them can do a backflip but matsuda is convinced that if given the chance, he could do one and then light and he hv that charlie and mac argument of “u can’t do a backflip” “i do a backflip every day of my life!!”

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

literally. neither of them stops the other one. light doesn’t drink a lot but matsuda will take him out clubbing which means light gets drunk off two cocktails and half of matsuda’s rum n’ coke. he dances to ariana grande and pulls matsuda on the floor and matsuda is so flattered by the attention that he lets light get drunker until he’s swaying and they hv to take a cab back to his apartment bc he can barely stand.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

i think i said in the first question, but matsuda often leaves light little gifts.

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

dslkfjla;skdfj;aslkfj;slfa matsuda sometimes puts yagami as his last name but that’s only bc he spends so much time w that family. he’d b so pleased to marry into it honestly. its a secret dream of his to propose to light and for light to accept and it keeps him warm on nights when light won’t return his calls.

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

neither of them take the spider outside but matsuda will just smack it w his shoe. light gets the bug spray and watches the spider die, slowly and painfully. he only ever does this when no one else is around but god, it’s a little thrill to take the edge off.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

matsuda forgets his jacket A Lot and so light will offer his as a token of affection (or at least as much a token as light can manage). it nvr fits but the same song and dance happens every time. matsuda wishes that light would forget his jacket once so it would b the other way around but uhhhh mr. five hundred plans at once has nvr been unprepared for bad weather. except once on a certain rooftop but like who’s keeping score?

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

their relationship is secret so nobody. but if sayu knew, she’d hv a word or two for matsuda abt dating her wonderful brother who deserves the best boyfriend life has to offer.

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

hmm. this one is......tough. neither of them every say anything but matsuda almost does. it takes a while. it takes several times of matsuda getting up to put on his shoes and looking over his shoulder, asking if light’s sure he wants to be alone. its a lot of him “dropping by” when he knows misa isn’t home but light didn’t ask him to come over and just watching tv together. he’s like a frog in water slowly boiling until he realizes the water is too hot and he’s burning with some kinda something for light. so he works up a little courage and a little stupidity and one night, after sex, he rolls over and asks light what they are. light blinks and smiles. “we’re friends,” he says and matsuda’s heart is a brick sinking into his stomach. “oh,” he says. “okay.” he doesn’t bring it up again.

a week later, light calls one of their outings a date and the brick starts to lift.

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

Oh They’d B Such Shit.

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

is this.....are you trying to ask me who does 1337 speak? okay okay. u would b surprised but i think light uses a lot of text chat when he messages ppl he’s closer to. if its like a work message, its all business but if it’s like a booty call to matsuda its like “hey wyd?” matsuda texts in such.....text code....u would hv to hv one of those “what is ur teen saying” guides next to u to understand. light can’t keep up. the only time matsuda texts with perfect grammar is when he’s sexting and honestly? that is half of what drives light wild.

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

here’s the facts: light likes matsuda but if he saw him getting bullied or anything and protecting him meant bringing himself to literally any harm? he’d turn right around and go in a different direction. matsuda defends light constantly whenever someone says something abt him being kira. anyone got anything to say abt light yagami? matsuda is on ‘em at the drop of a hat.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

god matsuda makes so many puns. he’s out of control. every time he opens his mouth its light’s worst nightmare which is nice humor and fun. he’ll grit his teeth and smile but inside he’s in special dead hell which is for ppl hearing bad jokes. BUT there’s one time where light is doing something and doesn’t catch himself b4 just out loud making a pun and the grin on matsuda’s? could’ve lit up an entire stadium.

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

if matsuda ever brought a puppy into light’s home, he’d b out on his ass in a minute. his dick game isn’t that strong.

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

matsuda is actually a little stronger than light, he’s like short-ish but built and frequently has to carry light home from clubs bc he can’t handle his alcohol. when he does carry him, light gets v handsy and matsuda has to like try and calm him down which is hard bc matsuda is drunk too? uhuhuh here’s something: one time when matsuda was carrying light home, light kept up this stream of conversation abt nothing and then started to make this weird, choked crying noise and matsuda was like whats wrong and light just kept saying “he’s dead” all gargled n shit. matsuda got him home and everything and light offered to hv sex with him but there was something so dead eyed abt him that matsuda was like “uhhhh i’ll just go home.” and light looked v small and matsuda knew he should probably stay, that light would b sick soon and probably vomit and he should definitely stay but he leaves anyway. he thinks abt that a lot after he shoots light. abt the way he lay there like a corpse, like he died six years ago and was haunting himself.

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

every once in a while light will do some intramural sports like soccer just to keep up his physique (he’s one of those ppl that like sports over like gym time) and matsuda always goes w misa under the pretense of their friendship. secretly tho he’s checking out light’s legs in shorts. light has v defined thighs.

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

matsuda takes eight selfies every rare occasion light sleeps on him and uses the kitty ear filter on them. he only sends the snapchat to his mom, who is the only person that knows abt him and light, and keeps the photo saved on his phone. light nvr finds out abt them. matsuda’s mom snapchats him back a thumbs up.

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

light would definitely give matsuda pointers and he actually does it, unsolicited, pretty often. if he could get a crack at matsuda’s waredrobe? god. the amount of macy’s casual wear he would shove in there. he hates matsuda’s day off clothes. worn jeans??? no thanks!!!

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

matsuda has a lizard named suds and light is not terrified of it, okay??? he just doesn’t like how it feels when it touches his skin and also how its eyes look and also he’s maybe a little scared of it so whatever

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

light insists on holding the umbrella bc he’s taller and likes the control but if he’s super busy and speedwalking he lets matsuda do it. also bc he likes flexing his ability to make ppl do things and it makes him feel royal to hv someone else hold his umbrella.

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

well, they’d literally nvr go on vacation bc they r not in that kind of relationship BUT if they did, they’d probably just go out to the country to a bed n breakfast in the gayest fashion possible. light would use the time to read some books he bought but nvr got around to reading. matsuda attempts to write a science fiction story which he is too embarassed to show light. light hacks his computer when he’s asleep so he can read it and finds out that the love interest is just a thinly veiled version of himself so he shuts the computer and crawls in bed, blushing bc he’s flattered and bc there were a lot of alien sex scenes w his character.

matsuda takes several phone pics of light falling asleep in the car on the way to the bed n breakfast and is sorely tempted to save one as his phone background. he doesn’t but he does keep one of those pictures even after light dies. it reminds him that light was human. that somewhere there was a person in there, that he didn’t sleep with a monster.

What We Built

*click thru to read on ao3

written by: S | @kinetic-elaboration

prompt: The 100 start calling Bellamy and Clarke "mom" and "dad" at the dropship camp, and the tradition continues even after the Ark comes down, causing confusion for @a-duck-with-herpes

word count: 8504

It started with Miller, which is the hardest part to explain later, after it’s spiraled out of control. But at the time it was really no more than a joke. A throwaway joke. 

Bellamy had been distributing guns and handing out guard assignments, looking over his misfit crew of teenage criminals like they were the real deal, because they had to be, because the enemy was out there, somewhere, beyond the gate. The atmosphere was understandably tense. Some of the new guard squared their shoulders and gritted their teeth, and tried to seem bigger than they were. Others just stared at their weapons like they hardly believed the guns were real. And some, like Miller, pretended this whole thing was a joke. Pretended they were in control and not afraid. So when Bellamy told him he was on the night shift, and then dismissed him with the others, he just smirked and said, “You got it, Dad,” as he slung his gun over his shoulder. 

It was a little weird. But at least it broke the tense atmosphere, the looming threat of war and death that had tied up everyone else’s tongue, so a few of them laughed anyway, uncertain and with obvious unease, before they scattered to their various posts. 

* 

“Why dad though?” Bellamy asked, as he finished his second circuit around the dropship ground floor.  

His tone said rhetorical but his face, when Clarke looked up from organizing their medical supplies, said explain this right now. So she thought for a moment and suggested, “Nervous joke about authority figures?” 

“Yeah, I got that.” He may not have always felt like the most obvious leader, but he knew that he was one. “I mean, why not a sarcastic ‘Yes Sir?’ and a…a salute or something?” 

Clarke shrugged. “Miller’s Dad is the head of the Guard on the Ark. Authority figures and parental figures are probably the same thing for him.” 

Bellamy gave her a look like he was about to say something sarcastic in response, but she was only answering the question he had asked, so he held his tongue. He leaned back against the dropship wall instead and conceded, “Everyone’s so tense. I guess they all have their own ways of dealing with that.” 

“Yeah.” Clarke stood up, dusted off her knees, and looked at the new arrangement of their meager medical supplies. She’d changed up her organizational system three times in the last two days and Bellamy had been pacing for about an hour now, a movement that should have been irritating, but which was somehow unexpectedly soothing. “Good thing we’re staying cool, though.” 

“Oh, definitely,” Bellamy nodded. “We’re keeping everything together.” 

* 

They enter the gates of Camp Jaha, and time collapses in on itself. Day blends into day and night into night; they stay up through the dark hours; they sleep in fits and starts in the pauses of the day.  

Mount Weather, where they stood among the carnage of their victory only days, a week, ago, feels an impossible eon in the past. It looms behind them, hazy like a nightmare or fever dream. 

Bellamy makes the Forty-Two his only priority. With Abby injured and medical overrun, Clarke takes to helping Jackson when she can, but still more often than not she's in the makeshift camp too, with the rest of the pardoned criminals, the original survivors of the advance guard. No one knows where to put the teenagers they've rescued, and most of them, after months spent in Mount Weather, the dropship camp, and the Sky Box, have no interest in sleeping alone. So spare bedding is found or made and space is cleared on the floor of the hangar deck, and they make a home among the boxes and debris. 

Octavia and Lincoln make their beds in the hangar camp too, as does Monroe, without question. After thirty-six hours in medical, Raven insists on being moved in with the others, where she agrees to stay off her leg and steadfastly promises it isn't hurting her too much. 

Bellamy stands by the door and looks over them: forty-seven survivors, thin and ragged and tired from what they've seen and done, but still here. Still continuing on. Jasper's fallen asleep next to Octavia; curled in on himself, he looks smaller than his height, and so does Monty, statue-still next to him with his arms wrapped around his knees. Across from them, Miller and Monroe have settled down on Raven's cot. The three of them are playing what looks like go fish with a pack of ratty playing cards Miller dug up from the hangar deck stores. 

At the edge of the group, Clarke and Harper are sitting on a threadbare quilt, Clarke quietly French-braiding Harper's hair. They're close enough for Bellamy to hear Clarke mumble, "Sorry—I'm really not very good at this." 

"It's okay," Harper answers. "My real mom wasn't either. You're doing your best." 

* 

Jasper picked up on the nickname next, which wasn't exactly a shock. Bellamy was admittedly startled the first time he felt a tap on his shoulder and a questioning, "Hey Dad?" behind him, but that was only because he hadn't expected the joke to last more than a day at most.

Then he realized it wasn't actually a joke. A group of eight or ten of them were gathered at the campfire—mostly the midnight guards waiting for their shift to start, plus a couple of insomniacs, plus, for her own mysterious reasons, Clarke—when Monty pointed out, "You basically are the dad of the group, though," an observation that stopped Bellamy cold in the middle of re-lacing his boots. 

"I really don't think I am," he answered. The really made him sound like he was protesting too much and the rest of the sentence was just weak and convinced no one. 

"You're the oldest," Monty pointed out. "Basically the only adult. And you make all of the decisions about what happens in the camp, like who sleeps where and who's on guard when. You settle disputes." 

"You're always around when someone's having nightmares," Jasper added. 

"Right—you're not just a leader. You're...paternal." 

"Clarke does a lot of that stuff, too, though," Harper reminded them. "She's a leader. She takes care of us when we're sick. And," she turned to her and, her voice turning quiet with the compliment, added, "and you always know what to say if one of us is feeling discouraged." 

"So that makes Bellamy the Dad of the group, and Clarke the Mom," Jasper concluded. He glanced over to Monty, then to Harper, then around at the rest of the group, and the way everyone nodded or hummed their agreement gave Bellamy a sinking feeling right in his gut. 

He caught Clarke's eye and knew she was thinking exactly the same thing. This was going to spread through the camp like fire.

* 

Eventually, slowly, the survivors of Mount Weather are assigned permanent sleeping quarters in the former Alpha Station. Some of them leave the hangar camp only reluctantly. But the promise of a real bed and real walls is not easily ignored. 

"You know why they're doing it, right?" Bellamy asks, low, under his breath, as he watches Harper and Monroe fold up the quilt. 

Clarke is standing so close to him that their arms brush against each other. He wants to put his arm around her waist. He wants her to lean against him, so he can hold her up. 

"I do," she answers. "But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing." 

The Sky People are getting restless. They've been on the ground for weeks. They are hungry and destitute. And most of them haven't seen Mount Weather, but they've heard about it: an underground bunker that sustained hundreds for decades, huge gardens, food stores, water, vast unexplored storage rooms. A treasure house. 

They'll need the hangar deck clear to hold their new supplies. 

"This needs to happen," Clarke says. "We're home now. We're with our people and our families again." 

Monty and Octavia are collecting pillows and bedding, methodically working their way down the rows of temporary beds. Monty carries a large cardboard box; Octavia throws the ratty pillows and blankets in. 

"Except," Bellamy reminds her, "most of them don't have families anymore." 

* 

The frost that so worried them melted in a day and a warm front like spring brought no-jacket weather to the camp within a week. "So much for winter," Bellamy declared. He let himself fall down, not without some grace, into one of the dropship seats in the middle of the camp yard. His hunting party had just returned from an overnight trip, but he was letting Miller take charge of distributing their new supplies, and allowing himself a rare five minutes of rest. 

"So much for one frost," Clarke corrected. Cooped up for days dealing with a small outbreak of fever, she was restless now, and couldn't bring herself to stand still. "We don't know which weather patterns are anomalies and which are actually the start of a new season. And all of our data about this region indicates they did have four seasons so we still need to be prepared." 

"I'm not saying we don't need to be prepared." Maybe, if he were in a bad mood, this would have been the start of an argument, a series of escalating misunderstandings between them. But the sun was shining too brightly on his face, and his legs ached in the best way from the morning's long hike back to camp, so he only smiled. "Maybe we can save worrying over the next crisis for when that crisis actually comes." 

For a moment, Clarke's face set into the hard lines that told Bellamy this might turn into a debate after all. But she only pursed her lips and came to sit down in the bucket chair next to his, mirroring his pose with her legs stretched out in front of her. "The next crisis like—when the Ark comes down?" 

Bellamy raised his brows. "Is that a crisis?" 

"No." Her voice sounded uncertain, and she swept her gaze across the dropship site, their tents and work stations and the wall they'd built themselves. "It's going to change everything, though." 

"Yeah." He huffed out a short breath of air. "No arguments here." 

None at all. Even with his pardon, he couldn't exactly say he was counting down the hours until the Ark leadership came down. Would they understand what these kids had done? Would they foolishly destroy it all? Would they institute the same leadership, the same laws, that had created this once rowdy delinquent class, that had formed the angry young man he'd been when he first stepped foot on the ground? 

He'd lost himself so thoroughly in these thoughts that he jumped when he heard Clarke's voice again, unexpectedly light:

"I guess there's one good thing about it." 

"And what's that?"  

He was pretty sure she'd start talking about all of the engineers and farmers and doctors the Ark would send, and what a jumpstart that would be to their community here. But all she did was poke her elbow right between his ribs and say, "No one will be calling us Mom and Dad anymore." 

And he had to laugh at that, more from sheer surprise than at the image of being called Dad in front of a group of real adults. Because that would never actually happen. "Right," he answered. "That's already gone on a lot longer than I thought it would." 

"I know," Clarke agreed, groaning out the word know in a tone he hadn’t thought she even had in her. "Fox called me Mom when I stopped by her tent this morning. At first, I thought it was the fever talking. But I think it’s just—”

“Actually how they see us?”

"Yeah. Which is weird."

"Incredibly weird."

Incredibly weird—but unlikely, he thought, even as he caught Clarke’s eye and smiled, to go away on its own, before the Ark came down and changed their little camp for good.

*

There’s no shortage of jobs at Camp Jaha and soon, the former members of the hundred have all been put to work. The safety of routine helps to push the past away, and after a few weeks, it becomes hard to believe that those memories that haunt so deeply are even real: the dropship camp, the Mountain, the long trek back and the first hours of hazy uncertainty in a home that did not feel like home.

That is how Bellamy feels, at least.  

He knows more about the Guard than most people in Camp, his old training and his experience on the ground combining into the sort of prestige he could never have imagined when he was mopping floors back on the Ark. So now he finds himself in charge of training sessions and organizing scouting trips, and he even wears a Guard’s jacket, like the one he once stole. He tries not to find this too surreal. He tries to accept that this is what normal means now.

When the living quarters are opened up again, he’s offered one of the better rooms but doesn't want to take it. It seems too big for one person. And he’s used to making do with so much less.  

Clarke won't let him say no. She takes him by the shoulders and looks him in the eye, which makes his breath catch, though he doesn't want it to, and says his name in a gentle and serious way. "Bellamy,” she says. “Bellamy, you deserve this. Everyone has a room. No one is sleeping out in the cold so you can take this."

She's not wrong. They've suffered such losses, their biggest station has more than enough room for their survivors. He knows she's thinking this too because of the sad way she smiles when she squeezes his shoulders.

"These aren’t single person’s quarters, Clarke," he answers.  

He's not wrong about this either, which is why she ends up moving in with him. It doesn't feel weird. It feels like it should feel weird, but it's actually the only part of this new normal that rings true. It feels, he thinks but won’t dare to say aloud, like it's been a long time coming.  

They scavenge up two separate beds but the space between them is slim.

*

Bellamy would like all of them, the remaining members of the hundred, to have dinner together at least once a week. He's not trying to hold any of them back, of course, or tie them too much to the past. They have jobs now, and new neighbors, and some of them, the Alpha and Mecha kids mostly, have reunited with family or old friends. That's healthy and he wants what's best for them. But they only survived out in the dropship camp, the Forty-Two only survived Mount Weather, because they relied on each other. They formed a unit almost like a family and it would be a shame if, now that they've settled into Camp Jaha, all of that were just forgotten.

He tries to explain this to Clarke as they stand in line in the cafeteria. (Lines like these feel a lot like the Ark, though the food on the ground is better, even the meat that he didn't catch and kill himself.) She listens patiently but with a slight smile on her lips, one she tries to hide by glancing away from him whenever he looks over at her.

"What?" he asks finally, as they grab their trays and turn toward the main dining room. "What have I said that's so funny?"

"Nothing. Everything you said has been very sweet."

He wasn't going for sweet. More like practical, or sensible.  

"Then what's this smile for?" He points in the vague direction of her mouth, twisting his finger in a circle around her lips.

"Nothing," she insists. "Just—you really are like a dad, you know?"

Bellamy's instinct is to argue that point, but he doesn't get a chance. The crowd clogging the doorway clears and they finally get to step over the threshold into the main room, but before they can even glance around for a table, someone is yelling for them.

"Hey!" Raven’s waving her arm to grab their attention. "Mom! Dad! Over here!"

The group, their group, all forty-six of them, have already gathered together in the center of the room. Even without the waving and whistling—Miller thumping the empty chair next to him, Octavia grumbling what took you so long?—they’re hard to miss: it takes four tables arranged end to end just to seat them. Bellamy can imagine the effort it to took to move those heavy, unwieldy things into place. But they did it anyway, not to impress him or Clarke, but simply as a matter of course. 

He stares for a long moment, just taking it in. Then he looks at Clarke.

Her expression, first surprised, then impressed, and suffused all the way through with pride, matches just exactly how he feels.

"Well," she hums. "I guess our children are one step ahead of you this time."

*

When he wakes up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep, Bellamy lies on his left side and stares at the gray slats that cover the window, and thinks about how unusual it is to have a window in his quarters. His tiny room in Factory didn’t even have a peephole in the door. He's been awake long enough now for his eyes to have adjusted to the midnight gloom, so he can make out not only the window but the desk and the chair and even his bulky Guard jacket, where he left it after dinner, slung over the chair above his dirt-splattered old boots. And if he turned around, he'd be able to see Clarke, too, lying on her side and watching him, her face round and pale like a spirit's as she thinks her own unknowable thoughts.

He knows she's awake even though they haven't spoken to each other yet. So he's not surprised when her voice, so quiet he wouldn't be able to hear it if they were still up on the Ark, floats out of the darkness behind him and asks, "What's on your mind?"

Bellamy shrugs. He could tell her that he's not thinking about anything, a transparent lie she wouldn't believe, just because it's easier than trying to explain. But this is Clarke. And if he makes some effort to capture this feeling, even part of it, and put it to words, he knows she'll understand, because it resonates within her too.

She waits a long time and doesn't ask again, and finally he says, "I'm thinking about them."

"Which them?"

He almost says the kids, but stops himself in time. "The hundred."

"You think they're awake too?"

Bellamy rolls his body over so he's on his back, then again so he's on his other side and can look at her. He moves slowly because he feels unwieldy and too large for himself, his limbs weighted down by bone-deep fatigue. Clarke blinks at him and then offers the slightest and shortest of smiles. Like she’s glad he’s come around.

"Probably. Some of them."

She’s so close that if he reached out into the space between their beds, he'd be able to hold her hand, or touch her arm. Maybe, if they both slid to the very edges of their mattresses, he could even run his fingertips down her cheek.  

Instead he keeps his hands under his pillow and says, "I worry about them. I worry about them just as much as when the Grounders were attacking or when they were in Mount Weather."

This feels like a deep confession, something almost shameful in him, like an old habit he should have outgrown but can’t let go. So he's surprised when Clarke just murmurs, “Of course you do,” so matter-of-fact, as if she’d known what he was going to say before he did himself.

“Of course I do because I worry too much?” he asks. That’s what O would say. He can hear her voice in his head, a little eye roll at the first words, sliding into a plea at the end. Bell, you’re such a worrier. Bell, aren’t you tired of living like this?

“Of course you do,” Clarke repeats, “because there’s still so much to worry about.”

Maybe she’s talking about the kids who have nightmares. Or the ones who are in mourning, because their families are dead, or the ones who are in limbo, because most of the stations are still missing. Maybe she’s talking about Jasper, who hardly talks to anyone these days. Or maybe she doesn’t trust the peace that’s keeping everyone else calm, while the Guard and the shoestring leadership structure are on edge.

Maybe she's talking about all of it.

He waits a long time for her to say something more. The room is utterly quiet, but he knows she's awake because he can see her eyes shining in the darkness, staring back at him and blinking sometimes, slowly. Finally he just gives up and asks, “Aren't you going to say something encouraging?"

She smiles, and the expression is sadder and more bittersweet than anything she'd allow herself during the day. "No. I worry too."

It’s not reassurance, exactly. Not a promise, not an insistence on hope. But it's enough. It’s all he needs to hear. That he's not alone and that when he falls asleep—if he falls asleep—it will be with the knowledge that she's there with him, only a few feet away, just as scared and uncertain, waiting for dawn.

*

At the dropship camp, being called “Dad” had often felt like being the butt of a joke. In his more pessimistic moments, he’d wonder if he was being mocked or undermined, if it was time to reassert some authority and put a stop to this stupid trend at last. But then he’d hear one of the younger kids ask, “Dad, when are you going on another hunting trip?” with a painful note of hunger to his voice, or he’d catch sight of Clarke, her arm around Fox’s shoulder, trying to come up with something to say to her uncertain words—“I keep expecting them to show up every day, you know, Mom?”—and those thoughts would fall away. He’d think, maybe they need this and his worries would start to feel selfish, and he’d push them aside.    

At Camp Jaha, it's different. Knowing that he and Clarke are Dad and Mom, or some surrogate version thereof, is too reassuring to second guess. The titles are the best reminders he has that their old dropship family still exists, that the hundred are still his people, and that he still has the power to protect them. In his most helpless, most uncertain moments, he takes comfort in the notion. When he can't call back a hunting party gone too long, when he can't cure an injury with the snap of his fingers, when he can't take away the pain of loss or erase a nightmare from someone's mind or even find the right words to ease a breathless crying jag, he can at least remind himself that he’s not a total failure here. He's doing something right. Dad might not have been a title he originally deserved, but that he has it still means he's earned it, and he can’t help but be stupidly, secretly, proud.

What, precisely, it means to be Dad, he can’t actually say. He's something more than a make-believe, playhouse version of a father figure, something less than an actual parent. It's not a role he could explain to anyone, but then, no one ever asks. Outside of their insular group, no one even knows about the old tradition, and as long as the dropship survivors stick to themselves, the status quo remains unchallenged, uninterrogated.  

But the assimilation he first predicted when the hangar camp was broken up is as inevitable as he’d always known it would be. It starts slowly, but continues surely. Groups meld together. Lines blur. And then the questions he'd always been glad never to hear start to be asked.

The first moment of confusion coincides with his first mission outside camp. Whether this is a coincidence or not, he doesn’t know. But since he wasn’t around to watch the awkward events unfold, he has to hear the whole story from Clarke on the evening of his return, as he sits on his bed scraping mud from his shoes and she lounges back against her pillows, engaged in no activity more strenuous than watching him and catching him up on what he missed.

It started, as Clarke explains it, with Miller and Raven getting into some sort of fight over her habit of leaving her tools all over Camp Jaha. “I heard this part from Raven, so I only know the biased version of events,” she adds, and Bellamy gives a little snort.

“I’ll get the other side of the story from Miller later,” he answers, turning his left boot sideways to get a better look at the scrim of dirt right near the sole.

“I wouldn’t.”

He pauses a moment to raise his eyebrows, but Clarke just waves him back to his work. “It’ll make sense soon. According to Raven, she's trying to work, when Miller approaches her about this tool issue. And you know how they both are: they've been stuck in camp so long, Raven can't do most of the work she used to do even around here—"

"They're both stir crazy," Bellamy says, with a little shrug, because he knows exactly what Clarke means. A sense of claustrophobia runs through the whole settlement, but for Miller and Raven, the problem is particularly acute. Miller used to be one of Bellamy’s go-to people for hunting and scouting missions, back at the dropship camp, and even though he’s been accepted into the official Camp Jaha Guard, he’s not exactly second in command anymore. He’s not at the head of the line for the best assignments, the ones that would take him beyond the perimeter walls. And Raven has pushed herself into a remarkable recovery from her Mount Weather injuries, but she’s back to using a cane just to walk and is still barred from most of the work she used to do.

"Exactly," Clarke nods. "I don't know how he actually approached her, but she said it was combative, wanting to know why she can't pick up her stuff and if there's any reason she left a hammer, or whatever it was, in the corridor by the North Wing dorms, and so on. And she told him to mind his own business, he wasn't even on Guard duty, and even if he was on Guard duty, she doesn’t answer to him, and he needs to leave her alone." Clarke pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, and sighs. Bellamy sets his first boot down and picks up the second, knocking off the biggest patches of dried mud onto the rag he's left on the floor before he moves on to more detailed cleaning. He doesn't prompt her to go on, because he knows she will once she's ready.  

"I guess eventually the fight just devolved into random yelling,” she continues, then, “and that's when Miller stepped back and said something like 'I'm going to talk to Dad about this.'"

“‘Dad’ like Sergeant Miller?" Bellamy asks, glancing up for a moment from his work, slight confusion furrowing across his brow. He's never known Miller to bring his personal problems to his dad. They've rebuilt their relationship with enviable ease—almost watching a loved one die puts a lot of former problems in perspective—but Miller's still the sort of person who solves his disagreements on his own.  And even more than that, problems among the hundred tend to stay within the group. That’s just how it is. 

It stings a little to think that might not be how it is anymore. 

"That's what Richie Mayfield thought," Clarke answers, with a significant look. She isn't smiling, but Bellamy can read amusement, barely held back, in the lines around her eyes and the tilt of her head. "He heard the fight, assumed Miller wanted his father to mediate, and went off looking for him." 

The truth of the situation dawns on Bellamy slowly, and he's not sure if he should find it sweet and touching or just hilarious. The corner of his mouth curves up. "Except that he actually meant..." 

"You. So when Sergeant Miller got there, Miller was completely confused. He hadn't even realized Richie heard him, let alone misunderstood like that, and he was still angry about the tool issue—Raven said it took them ten minutes to sort it all out and that she was laughing so hard by the end she wasn't even mad anymore." Clarke pauses a moment, her own smile so bright and relaxed that Bellamy almost loses his grip on the shoe he's holding only loosely, now, in one hand. "I wouldn't say Raven's Miller impression is accurate," she continues, "but it is pretty funny." 

Bellamy can imagine, can picture Raven deepening her voice and putting on an exaggerated grumpy face. But he'd rather think about what Clarke must have looked like, watching her, smiling or laughing maybe, giggling like all the cares of the last months had fallen completely from her shoulders. 

He doesn't realize the expression on his own face has become suspiciously fond. 

"So—what did Miller actually tell his dad?" Bellamy asks, abruptly dropping his gaze down to his work again. "Did he explain the whole..." He waves a hand in broad circles. "History?" 

Clarke just shrugs lightly. "I got the impression he was mostly embarrassed, awkward, and incoherent about it and his dad just gave up trying to untangle the whole back story." 

"For now at least," he adds. His voice is low but he's not surprised that Clarke catches the words, or the worry in his tone. 

"Yeah," she echoes. "For now. Does it bother you, that people are starting to notice what the rest of the hundred call us?" 

He hadn't expected the question, so precise and soft, cutting short the quiet pause they'd started to slip into, and for a moment he's not sure what to say. How to explain. 

"No," he manages, at last. He busies himself setting his shoes down, lining them up neatly next to each other on the floor. "I just don't think most of them will understand. What right do we have, to be surrogate parents? Especially to kids who have real parents on the ground?" 

"What right did the Ark have to send us down as radiation level test subjects?" Clarke counters. "The Council made a hard choice, I—I understand that." The memory of her own hard choices flashes briefly across her face, and she pulls herself to the edge of the bed, swings her legs over the side so she and Bellamy are face to face. "But...we had nothing when we came down. No organization, no support—" 

"No rules? Whatever the hell we want?" He won't pretend he didn't try to benefit from exactly that circumstance, but Clarke waves the phrase away.  

"You didn't build a dictatorship, Bellamy." She catches his eye then, and won't let him look away. Her hands settle with unexpected weight on his knees. "We built a family. And that's not going away. And if anyone questions that, that's what we tell them." 

Her confidence feels contagious, at least in the moment, but he still feels that's easier said than done. 

* 

Camp Jaha has no Council, only a Chancellorship, which relies on the fear and confusion of the Ark survivors for its semblance of legitimacy, and a well-controlled Guard armed with guns and shock batons. Day to day life continues anyway, untainted by warfare at least, and stability is an illusion most can still afford to believe. Bellamy sees how thin it is.  

But was it better on the Ark, or was the fantasy just a little better drawn? Some nights he and Clarke sit on the floor in their room, backs against his bed, sometimes his arm over her shoulders or his head in her lap, and draw each other back and forth in this debate. But it's an academic question, in the end. 

What matters is that decisions still need to be made and power exercised; control cannot be abandoned and left to fall wherever it may. So a group, not elected, not named, forms in its own uncertain, clumsy way, and starts to meet every few days in one of the small Alpha Station common rooms on the far side of the ship. There's not a lot of space there, and even less privacy, but the old Council room on Go-Sci is still up in space. Secretly, Bellamy thinks that's probably better. He still doesn't believe anyone would let a janitor from Factory into that secret circle. 

As it is, he has a seat at the table with Clarke, Abby, Kane, Sergeant Miller, and Sinclair, where today they are discussing the long-term sustainability of their food sources  and the possibility of farming. "We need to bring Monty Green into this conversation," Bellamy argues, and to Abby's slightly skeptical look, "I know he's only fifteen and his training's in engineering—" 

"But he was raised on Farm, which makes him more of an expert than almost anyone else in camp at this point," Clarke finishes. "Unless we find Farm Station survivors—" 

"Which is still a possibility," Kane puts in. 

"But not something we can count on," Sinclair counters. "We need to be cross-training people more than we are—" 

"Let's just focus on one problem a time," Abby cuts him off with unexpected sharpness, and everyone's jaws snap abruptly shut. A tense pause starts to grow, as they eye each other warily. But just as Kane opens his mouth to respond, the growing tension is broken by a series of loud shouts and a stampede of running feet. 

Three girls, no more than seven or eight years old, run down the hall, through the doorway, and into the room, shouting and laughing, the second two obviously chasing the first. They pay the Chancellor and the makeshift Council as little attention as they would a room full of statues. Bellamy's sure their boundless energy will carry them all the way through to the opposite hallway without pause, that they'll be gone as quickly as they came, when the second girl finally catches up to the first, grabbing her by the shoulder with just a bit too much force and wrenching her backwards. The target pulls away again and whirls on her heel. Then, before the adults in the room have even gotten over their initial shock, she's tilted back her head and started screaming out, "Mooooom!" at the top of her lungs. 

Bellamy can only spare half a thought—that this is possibly the weirdest thing that's happened to him since he landed on the ground—when Clarke makes the situation even more surreal by standing up. 

She doesn't actually walk toward the girls—because she's already realized her mistake, or because the child's real mother makes her appearance just in time, Bellamy isn't sure—but her cheeks are still blushing a high, mortified red as she sits back down. The woman gathers up the girls, makes several embarrassed apologies of her own, and ushers them out with warnings about interrupting the Chancellor, but Bellamy barely pays attention to her. He's staring at Clarke, who's staring down resolutely at her own hands. 

She doesn't look up until her mother asks if she's okay. From Abby's voice, Bellamy can tell that what she really wants to say is what was that? Clarke wasn't the only one who'd made a jerking, instinctive movement toward a child in distress—Abby, Sergeant Miller, and Bellamy had all reacted too—but she was the only who pushed her chair back and got to her feet.  

Now she only shrugs. "Nothing. Just—" She sits up a little straighter, gives some more volume to her voice. "Just at the dropship, if someone called out 'mom,' it was for me. So I guess I'm just used to responding to it." 

Abby keeps staring like this explains exactly nothing, but Bellamy can see a gentle realization dawning on Sergeant Miller's face. He changes the subject quickly. 

Bellamy doesn't know if Abby talked to Miller's dad later, or to Clarke herself, but when she runs into him in the commons two days later, helping Peter Colton fix the broken shelves salvaged from his old room, she looks at him with an expression that is equal parts affection and respect. 

* 

Most people don't ask the question outright. They ask it in the form of perplexed expressions or lingering furrowed-brow stares, like they know there's something weird about Bellamy and Clarke and the prison station kids, but they don't want to just come out and say it.

Kyle Wick is one of the few who’s upfront about how confusing he finds them.

He's joining Raven, Clarke, and Bellamy for lunch after a long morning of setbacks and half-starts on the medbay repairs, and at first, all four of them exhausted and hungry, conversation is slow. It's only when Monty stops by with a quick message from Sinclair and a heads up that Octavia is asking around about getting her hands on a horse that Wick's face takes on a new, alert, curious look and Bellamy knows he's starting to form the usual questions in his head. The look becomes more pointed when Monty leaves them with a quick, "Enjoy your double date with Mom and Dad," shot over his shoulder at Raven.  

"It's not a—" Clarke starts to call after him, but he's already gone. Bellamy can feel the tips of his ears getting red as if he were no older than fifteen again himself, and the whole table is shrouded by an awkward uncertainty.

He’s searching around for literally any topic of conversation when Wick asks, “What's that about anyway?" with an abrupt heartiness that at least finally breaks the strained pause.

Raven tilts her head. "What was what?"

"He just thought he was being funny, with the date thing," Clarke adds. She looks like she's blushing, too, and Bellamy's not sure if that makes the knots in his stomach ease or tighten. It's not like the kids haven't made jokes like that before—he's always figured that they're just part of the mom-and-dad tradition, just a little bit too easy, too obvious, to ignore—but not usually in front of outsiders, like Wick. So maybe that's what bothers her.

Or maybe it's because they had to grab a small table in the corner of the room, not quite big enough for four people, and his knee is touching hers under the table. Maybe it's because they've been here for fifteen minutes at least and she still hasn't even tried to pull away.

"No, I mean, the 'Mom and Dad' thing," Wick says. "I've heard Raven call you that, too. 'I'm having dinner with Mom and Dad tonight.' 'Dad's on patrol this morning.' 'I think Mom's in medical.' That sort of thing. What's the story behind that?"

Raven shrugs and answers, “It’s a dropship tradition,” as if it were obvious. “It’s sort of a joke but also just…it makes sense. Because that’s what they are within the group, the parent figures who make decisions and keep everyone in line, kept everyone sane when things got scary and uncertain.” She glances across the table at them, just for a moment, then adds, “For a lot of those kids, that was more parenting than they’d ever gotten at home.”

Wick obviously knows her well enough to know that she’s talking, in part, about herself, because his face takes on a serious cast and he gives her shoulder a short, wordless squeeze.

“Anyway, it’s just a habit by now,” Raven continues, with a forced lightness, as she picks up her fork again. “I don’t even know how it started.”

“It was Miller,” Bellamy says. He does remember, with an almost frightening clarity, standing by the wall they’d built themselves, shouting out the watch schedule while the sky turned twilight gray above him. He remembers the way Miller said, “You got it, Dad,” with every bit of his inflated confidence on display, and the nervous laughter that ran through the rest of the group in response. It’s hard to believe it was months ago. Harder still to hide the sense that he’s lived a lifetime since.

“No it wasn’t,” Raven answers, and snaps him out of his thoughts. She sounds completely incredulous, and when he looks over at her, she’s staring at him with an almost combative look on her face. “There’s no way it was Miller who came up with the idea.”

“He did, though,” Clarke insists. “He was the first one to call Bellamy ‘dad.’ He wasn’t the one who spread it through the camp but he started the whole thing.”

“And the first person to call you ‘mom’ was…Harper?” Bellamy squints his eyes for a moment, trying to remember.

“Mmmm,” Clarke hums, nodding. “I think so. But by then it was already moving past the point of a joke.”

“Mostly,” Bellamy adds. "Sometimes it's hard to tell." 

Clarke opens her mouth to say something more, thoughtful expression around her eyes like she's just remembered some other obscure detail of the past, when Wick interrupts, "You know what, nevermind. I think I understand now." 

"Your engineer's brain finally caught up with us?" Raven asks, arching an eyebrow. 

"Ha ha. You're hilarious as always, Reyes." 

Bellamy doesn't ask what he's done in the last few minutes to make himself seem fatherly, because he doesn't really want to know. Because, more specifically, he gets the feeling Wick's comment wasn't really about that at all. It was about him and Clarke; how they exchange a quick glance of bitten-back, fond smiles; how when they look across the table again, Wick and Raven are watching them, like they know some open secret he and Clarke have missed. 

* 

Monroe turns seventeen at the end of what Lincoln tells them is an unseasonably warm early-winter week. Most years, the TonDC region would have seen its first snow by now. But so far they've only woken up a few mornings to frost and felt a handful of deep bone-chilling winds. 

Bellamy hasn't been on the ground so long that he doesn't still feel a thrill when a gust blows around him, ruffling his hair and making goosebumps rise on his skin. 

They wait until the sun goes down, then grab up extra blankets, hats and gloves where they can find them, and light a roaring fire in the main fire pit. Bellamy stands back a little and watches as the others start passing out mismatched mugs and cups. He doesn't realize Clarke has come to stand by his side until he feels her hand on his arm. 

"Worrying about the cold?" she asks, and he can practically hear a silent, teasing dad at the end of her words. 

"Counting who's here," he answers. His voice sounds gruff, but when she links her arm through his, he pulls her a little closer, his hand over her hand. Octavia is one of the few who still hasn't arrived. He can tell that Clarke, after a quick glance around the group, notices this too. He'd like to keep his post and keep watch for her, but Monroe has saved them both seats next to her, close up to the fire, and it seems rude to say no to her at her own party. 

The last stragglers show up before too long anyway, including Monty, with a full container of the moonshine he hasn't made since Unity Day and, not long after, Jasper and Octavia, who approach the group with a peculiar calm that immediately makes all eyes turn to them. 

The first sight of them is shocking, in a way that Bellamy would later be hard-pressed to define. It's not just that Jasper's shorn his hair almost completely off, or that the haircut and the too-big sweater he's wearing highlight how thin his face has become. It's not even the way he stares at them, hard and distant, like he's daring someone to speak. And it's not that Octavia's wearing Grounder braids in her hair, and the jacket Tri Kru gave her before the alliance broke, because this is nothing new. It's that neither of them look anything like the kids who first stepped out of the dropship door. The reality of the passage of time, and the pain of transformation, hit him all at once—which is perhaps appropriate, given that they've gathered for a birthday, after all. A marker of a new year beginning.

"Are you going to join us or not?" Monty asks, finally, a hard edge of impatience to his voice. 

That seems enough to break the spell, and Jasper and Octavia join the rest of the crowd, Jasper plucking a cup of moonshine from Monty's fingers as he passes by. He stops behind Monroe and tries to give her a brief, one-armed hug, but she pulls him into a longer, closer embrace. "I like the new hair," Bellamy hears her whisper. 

"So did we miss the singing or what?" Octavia calls out, from the spot she's found next to Lincoln.

"There's not going to be singing," Monroe answers. The words sound like a threat, but Octavia is unfazed. 

"It's not a birthday if there's no singing." 

A few others chime in, all in favor, and eventually Monroe relents. Then forty-seven voices erupt in a slightly out-of-sync and very off-key version of Happy Birthday, loud enough to be heard all through the camp. Bellamy can hear Clarke's voice ringing out clearly next to him. She's not a very good singer, but like the rest of them, she sounds nearly jubilant by the final happy birthday to you, and the heavy feeling pressing against Bellamy's chest starts to ease. 

"You know who would have really liked that?" Jasper asks, as the final stragglers' last notes die out. He's taken up a spot on the ground in front of Raven, hands outstretched toward the fire. "Fox. She loved to sing." 

Tension threatens to seep back into the pause that follows. Bellamy watches as the others flick their eyes across the circle, into the shadows, like they're waiting for Fox's ghost itself to appear. Like they can feel it, feel her still with them.

Bellamy feels Clarke's hand slide into his, her skin cold and rough as her palm presses against his and their fingers intertwine.  

Then—"You're right," Monroe announces, voice full and brave in the silence. “She would have loved this. So would Sterling.”

“And Roma,” Bree adds. She is already lifting her mug.

“And Finn,” Raven says, almost defiant.

Their group seems to grow as each new name is said, invisible ghosts of the fallen crowding in, as those who have cups toast them. There weren’t enough mugs to go around, so pairs and trios have to share. It’s Clarke who’s holding theirs and Clarke who raises their drink high for Wells.

Memories flow easily into the spaces they’ve made for the dead. Stories that were almost forgotten are unexpectedly resurrected and then shared. They are bittersweet sometimes, and shaded always by loss, but still, as the hours wear on, they’re laughing more often than they’re crying. Bellamy loses track of time. He loses track of himself. All he knows is that sometimes he has to double over to catch his breath; and sometimes someone will jostle him, and he’s not sure who; and sometimes his knee bumps up against Clarke’s and for a while her head is on his shoulder, and for a while his arm is around her waist. And he’s pretty sure that once, or maybe more than once, she pushes a stray curl out of his eyes with gentle fingers.

The party doesn’t break up until after the first shots of pink and yellow sunrise have broken through the sky. By then, exhausted if no longer tipsy (the moonshine ran out hours before), it’s all they can do to douse the fire and say their goodbyes, their joking versions of goodnight. The others hug or kiss, pull each other off in one direction or the next, get tangled up in each other’s limbs and pull away confused and laughing. Slowly disperse.  

Bellamy and Clarke hang back. They wait until the others have all disappeared and only the early morning patrol are left, black shadows on the periphery of their vision, before they even think of turning back to Alpha Station.

By then, Bellamy’s sure he’s only still on his feet because he’s got his arm around Clarke’s waist. And he’s equally sure that, if she weren’t leaning so heavily against his side, she’d be curled up on the ground, asleep, herself.

“You ready to go home?” she mumbles, and glances blearily up at him.

“You have no idea.”

She laughs, a cute and exhausted little laugh, because she very obviously does.

Outside the door to their quarters, he stops her before she can key in the code and walk in. Maybe he’s an idiot—she’s looking at him as if he were, asking him if something’s wrong—but he just has this feeling, this feeling that if he doesn’t say this now he never will. Her hand is still in his, and it’s enough to ease his last few lingering doubts.  

“If I kissed you now,” he asks, “would I be completely misreading the mood?”

A smile like realization dawns across her face, and she shakes her head. “You would not.”

She leans up on her toes to meet him, just as he leans in.

His hands at her waist keep them both steady, while her fingertips linger against his cheek and jaw, as if she expected he might try to pull away at any moment, and she would have to pull him back in. But he doesn't. Wouldn't dream of it. They stay just as they are for a long time.

As they kiss, they become different people. They are no longer surrogate mom and surrogate dad. They are not leaders or soldiers. They have never taken human life, nor saved it. Instead, they fall back in time, until they are little more than kids themselves, coming home late from a party with their friends, lingering together in the hallway just outside the door because they cannot bear to say goodnight. Because they cannot bear for the night or the moment to end.

Second

Things have been stressful but otherwise pretty decent lately. My bf and I celebrated our first anniversary together and now we are beginning to look for places come August 1st. I started therapy weekly for the time being. My first real appointment is on the 29th. It's crazy how long this journey has taken. I always thought when you're in a dire situation like needing mental help or being suicidal that they swooped in and actually took care of you. Luckily there have been no copay so far, but my bill from the emergency behavioral outreach and the hospital have totaled $2400+. I keep saying I was taken involuntarily and I was, but it's not like I didn't need the help. The bills are a sobering reminder of where I was versus where I need to be. Sometimes I sit back and think where did my life go? I'm 27 now and don't see a very promising future, except if you are thinking in terms of retail management. My poor choices have limited me so much in my future. I have a poor credit score and work a job $3 ish dollars over minimum wage, so in turn I live in a shit hole, drive a shitty car, and have an overall shitty life. I try not to be mad or have any resentment toward anyone. Who am I kidding? I did this all to myself. Everything. So therefore I am the only one who can help myself get out of it. I used to do so much. Martial arts, honors student, gifted writer, won the geography bee, etc etc. And then everything just kind of ... changed. Gradually. I remember when I started dating. My first bf and I are still very good friends to this day. We were together for like two years. That is, if I could find him. This was before everyone had cell phones. You actually had to work for it. Anyway he came out of the closet and left me. I was unhappy at first but soon came to realize that I would be even more unhappy in a sham relationship and if I truly do love him for who he is (which I still do, always.), then I should be happy with him trying to find his own happiness. I feel like my existence is made up of chapters and each chapter is named after the boy or man I chose to be with in that period of time. I used relationships as a way to identify myself for so long that I lost touch with who I really was as a person. I'm not sure if I've still even found that girl yet. Overall I had a pretty decent childhood. We were never rich, but my parents always made sure we had everything we needed. My older sister and I each received an LL Bean backpack when we started first grade and we were expected to maintain it and keep it throughout elementary school, we had chores, after school program, etc. I started going to camp when I was around 8 and continued until 17. I took martial arts and aspired to do something with my life. My parents pushed us a lot though, and it was sometimes hard on us girls. They expected us to socialize and play outside with the other kids. When I was like maybe 5 I met the neighbor kids. It was soon after that I knew about sex, knew what a blow job was, and just generally things a 5 year old shouldn't know. I would say that one of the single worst memories I have in my entire life is this: Couldn't have been more than 6 years old at the time. The neighbor boy asked if I wanted to see something. He wasn't even that much older than me. Maybe 7? 8? It's really kind of fuzzy after 20 years. Anyway, of course I wanted to see something. He led me into the back hall to the apartment building we lived in and pulled down his pants, exposing his penis. He said now you. I wasn't exactly sure what to do or say. I do remember what I was wearing though. Minnie Mouse romper thing. Light up sneakers. I did what he said. He asked if I had ever sucked dick before. No, I replied cautiously. He told me to close my eyes and open my mouth. I did so. Wider he says. I tightened my eyes abs opened as wide as I could. And that's when I tasted it. It tasted like cigarettes and laundry detergent. It was brief. I pulled away and opened my eyes. I saw my sister and his sister staring in through the glass on the door we went through. I didn't know what to think. Didn't get it. Stuff like that happened between the brother and the sister and I until they finally moved away. To this day I know I'm not completely heterosexual and know that this probably was the catalyst. I have always been ashamed. Always hid it. Never wanted to talk about it. Would leave the room and feel uncomfortable if a lesbian couple was featured on TV, for instance. Nowadays I suppose the society we live in would say that I'm absolutely silly for hiding it. I never found out why I have such a shame for it. I'm bisexual through and through, but I really do prefer the company of men. It's weird. Sexuality is a vast and diverse thing, and talking about my own experience makes me understand a little bit more. Other bad things happened that I don't want to divulge right now. But they were really bad. And had a really profound impact on who I am as a person. I became the girl that automatically equates sex with love. Not necessarily a bad thing definitely, but it's also hurt me quite a bit. Men can be cruel. I can be, too, however. My second boyfriend was the prime example of this. I was 16 and he was 21 and I took advantage pretty damn hard. I mean, who wouldnt? I also took his virginity so nowadays I think about what he did and it makes more sense to me, especially given what I went through. Anyway this dude was getting SSI and I met him thru my ex boyfriend (yes the gay one) and on the internet kind of. It was a mixture. Anyway this dude had cerebral palsy and was getting like 550 a month. Of course once we started dating it was ALL going to me. Dumb shit, too. Dinners, $45 blankets at hot topic, just stupid shit. I was a kid so I liked dumb shit. He liked fucking a kid because he was/is a sexual predator. Ugh I got so fat and gross. I started the depo shot when I was like 16.5 or 17 and gained so much weight. I ended up getting pregnant and yeah something bad happened so we wont really go into detail about that. I started smoking weed as much as I could and drinking to legit get fucked the fuck up. Like puke, drink, repeat. Binge drinking. Soon the relationship between palsy dude and I was growing sour. He was starting to become physically abusive, and using items and marriage proposals, and cheap fucking 1/10 diamond rings from walmart to try to lure me in. I dropped out of high school and almost joined the fucking military. I quit martial arts. I was legit becoming a shell. Crying out for any attention I could at home. My parents were too busy trying to repair their marriage. I get it now, mom and dad. I can't even imagine how you guys did it all and managed to save your marriage. I understand why it had to be done. I acted like a casualty of it for years. It finally dawned on me that they were trying to save it for ME. For my sis and I. I'm truly grateful now. They are still together and seem to be more in love than ever. Someday I will have something this healthy. Anyway the first time palsy dude (and yes that is what he will be referred to as. First bf is gay bf. Deal with it. He loves it.) was physical with me was after some brief altercation we had had. I called him stupid. He was driving his fuckin piece of shit Intrepid and stopped short at a stop sign. He looked me dead in the eyes and wrenched my windpipe with his good hand. Don't you ever fucking call me that again. He said through gritted teeth. His forehead turned red and he started breathing heavily through his nose before shoving me backwards and letting me go. Instantly my eyes welled up with tears and I think .02 seconds after that, he was sorry. He was always fuckin sorry. It continued to get worse. Shoving me into walls, kicking me when I was laying in the fetal position crying. Blaming me for what happened when I got pregnant. Blowing my fuckin cell phone up and running up my parents bill, always wanted to know where I was. So I apparently had gradually decided months ago the best course of action was to make him my life and quit my sport, quit school, join the military and make him and army husband. It all sounds so fuckin ridiculous now, but that's what my plan was. Til shit started going sour. My parents intervened after finding out I had missed about 90 days of school. Everyday before I left, I unhooked the phone so when the school called looking for me, the line was unreachable. I ended up in alternative school where I learned math easily from a computer, and graduated high school with like a 3.2 average or something. I went to school 7 am to 10 am and worked as much as I could for a drug store downtown. Once I got that job I found my independence and literally decided one day I did not need to be treated the way palsy dude saw fit. I was hanging out more and more with gay ex bf and his little sister, among them their friends, which in turn became my friends. A veritable menagerie of different scenes, culminating into the love for two things. Partying, and trying to find the means to do so. I had a job so I would buy weed and booze any chance I could get and share with everyone. A lot of times I would go to gay ex bfs dad's house after school and wait for him to come over so we could hang and party. Smoke maybe do some pills and drink. There was another reason I would go over there. Gay ex bfs dad was a heroin addict and I felt really bad for him because he was very kind and gave me a lot of advice and tried to help me in my future. I feel like I was making him hamburger helper everyday for at least a few months. Always with a couple slices of cheese on top. He used to ask for it, but then I would just routinely go into the fridge and see what I could make for us. Sometimes when he would eat, he would start to go to sleep so I would make sure he stayed awake and smoked his cigarette and ate and had a drink of water before he fell asleep again. Sometimes I would make sure the little sister would get to school at a decent time, although no one could ever control her after you dropped her off at the middle school. I always loved that about her. She always marched to the beat of her own drum. Anyway, I broke up with palsy dude. He had been living in a rooming house in my city to be closer to me. I told him i was done. He smashed a ceramic mug he had and sliced his wrists over and over. I was in awe and surely did not know what to say or do. He blocked the door and cried to me to reconsider. I had to call the cops. I went to my friends house after and my friends mother consoled me. My parents picked me up and took me home. He killed the hamster he bought me after that I'm pretty sure. He harassed me for weeks. Finally the day after my 18th birthday he called my cell. Not sure why but I answered. He sounded hysterical as usual. I heard wind blowing into the speaker which meant he was outside somewhere. What the fuck do you want I said. He replied, through gritted teeth I'm sure, I wanted to do this on your birthday. Now the sound I heard after I can only describe as dropping a heavy book in an empty room, on a wood floor. The phone hung up. I looked at my friends who I was with at the time and said something to the effect of I think this motherfucker shot himself. So I decide to call back. This dude fucking answers. When I ask him what happened he confirmed my fear of shooting himself. But miraculously he DIDN'T DIE. BECAUSE AFTER HE TOLD ME WHAT HAPPENED I CALLED FUCKIN 911. I GUESSED THAT HE WAS AT HIS PARENTS, THAT WOULD BE THE ONLY PLACE HE WENT THAT DIDN'T HAVE THE SOUND OF THE CITY IN THE BACKGROUND. Oh how right i was and they jetted on over to put his face back together. So they did plastic surgery and looks 100% better now, which makes my story even more fucking unbelievable. I mean I haven't seen him IN PERSON for years, almost a decade actually, but his Facebook (yes I creep) makes him look completely normal. Here's the fuckin kicker. I had to get a restraining order on him. He still tried his damndest to contact me through any means possible. I was scared and just wanted it all to be over so I finally got the balls to tell him to leave me alone or face jail time. Needless to say he did. He's in an unhappy marriage and has a child. I only know this because he is a Facebook creep too and COULD NOT RESIST seeing what's up with my fine ass after all these years. Basically said gl with the kids and shitty marriage douche. Man that felt good.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who (2005) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler Additional Tags: Bikini - Freeform, Swimming, jaaaaaaack, embarassed ten Series: Part 3 of Whoville's Follower Milestone Celebration Summary:

The Doctor promises Rose a visit to the best beach in the universe. But then he sees her in a brilliant bikini.

Written for  @goingtothetardis who won my follower milestone celebration ficlet for Ten x Rose canon ficlet. Prompt: Ten sees Rose in a bathing suit for the first time since he regenerated.

Rose bit her thumb. Trying to decide was proving harder than it ever should be.

“That’s what I get for owning twenty swimsuits. Who even has twenty swimsuits? This is ridiculous.”

She pawed through the pile of mismatched tops, bottoms, and one-piece water-wear.

She picked up a one-piece red suit and then tossed it aside remembering that the wrap-style top part was too big and gaped open.

Then the two-piece green tankini - an unfortunate neon phase when she was seventeen.

She picked up a very flattering white bikini - Shireen had convinced her to buy it. The minute she’d jumped into the public pool, she’d heard catcalls. It had gone see-thru. She hadn’t spoken to Shireen for a week. “I didn’t pack this? Why’s this one here?” She heard the TARDIS giggle.

The one-piece black halter had strings that went around her neck. But it had bad habit of coming untied, usually after diving into the pool. Great for tanning, terrible for having fun in the water.

Another black one — a bikini. The bottoms were a wee bit too close to thong territory.

And yet another black one - for exercise. And it felt like a compression suit.

A red bikini. She smiled wickedly and put it in the maybe pile. “Gotta love Miracle Bra.”

A metallic gold bikini — Mickey had bought it after marathoning Star Wars for the umpteenth time. (She crinkled her nose) and tossed it aside.

Pink bikini with a ruffled skirt. “What was I thinking? Am I eight?”

Pink one-piece with teeny white dots — cute pattern, but the leg holes were too low and made her feel like a granny.

White. Not see-thru. Strange smashed mono-boob thing.

She held up a navy blue one-piece. Too small.

She glanced at a sky-blue bikini. “Too much side-boob.”

“And this one is just ugly. Oh yeah, it was on the 85% discount rack at Henrik’s. Does it even fit anymore?” She held it up. “Yeah, it fits. Ugh. I hate throwing out stuff that fits.”

She picked up the red maybe suit and examined it again. “He does seem to like red. He’s always staring at my mouth when I wear that red lipstick. And the red jacket on Satellite Five — I got some good looks up and down in that outfit. But that was then. What about now? I don’t even know what his favorite color is now! Although I could guess it’s brown. I like the brown. I really like the brown. Do I have a brown one? No, I don’t look good in brown. Why would I ever wear a brown bathing suit?” Rose groaned, and fell face-forward into her fluffy comforter.

She lifted her head, and then she saw a suit that she didn���t recognize. It was hanging on the doorknob.

Rose crinkled her forehead as she pulled it off of the shiny silver handle. She held up the top by the bra straps.

“Ooh La La. Never heard of that brand. Cute name. Right size, too.”

There was nothing special about the design of the suit. No embellishments. Just a classic bikini. The color was nice and cheerful. She quickly stripped off her clothing and put it on, and then went into the bathroom to take a look.

She tugged the top, adjusting it so that it covered the parts that needed covering, but showed off the parts that she wanted to show off.

The bottoms fit well and didn’t need to any adjustment.

Rose turned this way and that, looking at her reflection. She smiled. “This makes my bum look good.” With a bite of the lip she tugged the straps, enhancing the push-up effect just slightly. Not too skimpy, not too plain. Just the right bit of oomph.

“And… we have a winner.” She let out a little hooray and quickly gathered the rest of her things and headed out to the console room.

oOo

“Time’s a ticking, Rose Tyler. Chop chop. I promise, you don’t want to miss— the… uh…”

“I’m ready. Let’s go. I can hardly wait to jump into the water.”

The Doctor stood statue-still, feet glued to the grating.

“Something wrong? Do I have spinach in my teeth?”

He tugged his ear. He clasped his hands behind his back. He shoved one hand into a coat pocket, and then the other into the pocket of his trousers, striking an awkward, uneven pose.

“Something must be wrong to got you so tongue-tied. So go on, spit it out.”

“That’s the swimsuit you’re wearing?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, it’s my ballgown. My bikini’s in my bag.”

He blew air through is lips. “Right. Of course. Ha! Your bathing costume. Cossie. Your swim togs. Togs. Toggies. Cozzy. Bathing suit. Definitely not a ballgown. Definitely. Nope. You are a very funny human, Rose Tyler. Very, very funny. And I’ve met some humans who, and I promise you, are very very veeeery funny.” The Doctor gritted a smile. “You know who’s funny? Lucille Ball. Lovely woman. And ginger.” He sighed.

“What are you nattering on about?” she laughed, looping her arm through the acrylic hoops of her pink mesh beach bag.

“Well,” he tugged on his ear, “it’s, you know…” He waved his finger around. “Flattering.”

She smiled slyly. “That’s sorta the point, isn’t it?”

“I think you should change. Might be too… flattering for where we’re going.”

“You said this place was uninhabited. Do the birds have hangups about skin?” she joked.

He cringed.

“I’m not changing, Doctor.”

“The Victorians wore black bathing costumes over big ol’ billowing black bloomers. Ha! Awfully awesome alliteration. Ha HA! I did it again! You’da thought the undertow would have claimed more lives. I never knew how—“

“We aren’t going swimming with Queen Victoria, are we?”

“No! No. Definitely not. She’d would’ve had our heads. Or drawn and quartered. Very unpleasant. Or will take our heads. Or could. She thought you were naked before…” he trailed off.

“So then, what’s the problem, Doctor. You’re turning all red.”

Rose took a step forward.

The Doctor took a step back.

“Oh come off it. You’ve seen me in a million bikinis. What’s wrong with this one? Don’t you like yellow?”

“Yellow is absolutely brilliant. Completely and absolutely outstandingly perfect.”

“I’m going out there. You coming? Or are you just gonna stand there with your gob going nonstop?”

Rose brushed passed the Doctor and pushed the door open, illuminating the TARDIS with cheerful sunlight and the smell of salt air.

The Doctor put on his sunglasses, and slowly dragged his coat from its standard storage spot.

“Maybe it’s not the one. I did throw it away.”

He could swear he heard the TARDIS laugh.

oOo

Rose looked out towards the horizon. Small islands dotted the azure water. The beach was deserted, save the occasional sea bird flying overhead.

“So no people on this planet?”

“Nope.”

“Any dangerous animals?”

“Nope.”

“You coming? I want to get in.”

“Nope.”

“Isn’t it safe? Giant sharks with poisonous fangs? Enormous stinging jellyfish?”

“Nope.”

“Why’d we come then? You told me this was the most beautiful beach in the universe.”

The Doctor swallowed hard.

“Doctor…?” Rose crossed her arms. “What’s going on?”

“Uh… Rose, where’d you get that uh… garment you’re wearing?”

“Garment?” She snorted. “It’s a bikini. Since when did you become such a prude?”

He dragged his hands down his face. “Just answer the question.”

“It was hanging on my doorknob. I don’t know where it came from. The TARDIS must’ve put it there.” She frowned. “Why? Is it poisoned or something? Alien tech that shoots darts out of the bikini top?”

The Doctor blushed fiercely.

“You are so easy to wind up! Come on, tell me! What’s the problem?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times.

A slow, lopsided grin appeared. “You know what, Doctor? I think you like it. You’ve been looking.” She bit her lower lip. “New New Doctor.” Rose swung her hips as she approached him.

He squeaked.

She was now a hair-breadths away.

“You did say it was flattering.”

“Yes. Very.” He nodded, eyes closed.

Rose laughed and shook her head. “Whatever. Race you to the water!”

She took off, sprinting over the sand.

“Rose!” he bellowed. “Stop! Don’t go in the water!”

“No way!” she called over her shoulder. “You brought me swimming, so I’m gonna swim.”

The Doctor dropped onto his bum, and buried his face in his hands.

He heard her squeal as she dove into the cool, but refreshing surf.

But then she screamed.

And she screamed again. Louder.

“I’m so sorry!” he yelled hiding his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” she screeched. “You put this thing in my room, didn’t you? Thought you’d play a joke?”

The Doctor pulled his lanky frame off of the sand and slowly walked backwards to the edge of the water.

“It wasn’t me, Rose. I promise. I thought the thing was gone.”

But then he heard laughing.

And then he heard sloshing.

Louder and louder. Closer and closer.

He ran up the beach, and again walked backwards, this time carrying his long, brown, full-coverage coat.

“Here. Put this on.” He held it out to her behind his back.

“Nope.” Splash, splash.

“It wasn’t my fault. Do you believe me?”

“Nope.” Splash, splash, splash, splash.

“It was Jack!” he exclaimed. “He bought it! Thought it’d be funny. You know his sense of humour. I put it in the rubbish bin. Thought the TARDIS incinerated it.”

“Apparently not,” she purred.

“Come on Rose, take the coat,” he begged.

“Nope.”

She was right behind him now. He could feel her breath on his neck. And he could feel her skin on his back. Her wet, uncovered, soft, and very bare skin.

And then Rose took the coat and slipped it on.

“You can turn around now,” she purred.

“You know what I think?”

“Nope.”

“I think you wanted me to wear the bikini. You didn’t tell me about it, because you knew what was gonna happen and wanted it to happen.”

“Nope.”

“But you did know what would happen?”

He was quiet. “Yep.”

“I am a bit disappointed, though.”

The Doctor turned around.

“Why?”

“Best bikini I’ve ever had. And now it’s gone. Dissolved straight away.” She raised an eyebrow. “So, did Jack buy you a pair of swim trunks?”

Chapter 3 Idiots and Their Lute

By some miracle, they were not found on their way through some of the tunnels directly under the outpost. From where they stood there were many small tunnels around the area. Most hiding a few lizards or other small creatures of the Underdark. The drow fighter stopped them and pointed to one in particular that lead up. It would be a tight fit for them to say the least.

“There’s a stone up through there that is loose. It’ll put you directly in one of the barracks. Our things should be in the main guard tower,” he told Melzan, seeing as the Cleric seemed to be the only one who knew any sort of language for this land.

Melzan gave the other a nod and relayed the information to the rest of the group. Now that they had their intel the choices of who might go first needed to be made. Tyrnan volunteered. Gutrick soon after. Shaleena and Melzan took up the rear, but before he left Melzan turned to Prince. His eyes watched him seriously before looking to the other drow.

“Hold him until we get back. I don’t trust him not to run and definitely don’t trust him not to betray us once we’re inside,” Melzan’s eyes narrowed at the other drow who seemed rather upset by this treatment. There would be no telling if the man might actually be a plant to have them flushed out, especially with the guard just handing them the keys to their restraints.

With Prince’s hold strong on the dark elf, Melzan climbed up and let Shaleena come up after that. Apparently, the surface elf had a problem with a Drow being right behind her, even unarmed. Though he too did not like the idea of a surface elf behind him Melzan felt a bit more confident about his usefulness so though wary, he did go first. Though when he heard the sounds of a scuffle he barely peeked his head out of the hole before having to duck back down to avoid a Drow who was thrown right on top of the hole. With a gasp, he dropped a bit to avoid the blade that came thru the drow’s body. A bit of blood dribbled on him and Shaleena before Tyrnan rolled the body off of the hole. Her pale skin and his white hair showing the dark red blood even in the near darkness.

“Oh, so you two did decide to join us,” the half-elf smirked before going to flank the guard Gutrick seemed to be keeping rather busy.

Pulling himself out of the hole Melzan glared at the elf and quickly moved to start looking for a uniform that would fit him. Murmuring to himself he also changed his eye color to a more normal red of the rest of his kin. This would aid in deceiving any slaves or lower class warriors they might run into.

The scale mail fit him well once he managed to get it all on. Luckily they were able to find a bit for Shaleena as well. Gutrick and Tyrnan, unfortunately, were a bit too broad to fit into the fine elven armor. It appeared they would need to wait until they found their own things. On the bright side, all the weapons and poisons taken off of the guards fit perfectly on everyone, even the halfling who apparently tagged along.

With the superior dark vision, Melzan lead them out of the barracks. The light provided by the few faerie fire torches lit up the larger expanse of ground. Likely the training area. Across from there the building their things were in, according to their Drow captive. A few servants, Bugbears, guarded the area. They would send an alert if anything came up. Honestly, they were barely considered more than slaves themselves. “You all stay here. We don’t want to make a lot of noise if we don’t have to. I’m going to see if I can send them off. Though if they attack, well, we’ll have to kill them before they can sound any alarm,” Melzan’s posture changed a bit to more resemble the guards, and that of a noble.

“How can we trust that you won’t sell us out?” Shaleena almost growled, causing Melzan to look a bit surprised.

“I’m not asking you to trust me. What I’m asking is that you cooperate so we all don’t get killed. I want to get back to the surface, and away from here. My ‘crimes’ here are not something any drow could forgive. You all are also more useful right now as fighters, not just distractions,” Melzan’s eyes changed back to gold. “Damn it…” he cast the spell again and once more his eyes were red. He looked to Gutrick to see if the human saw his reasoning.

The next time Shaleena was about to talk he held up his hand then made a bit of a shooing motion with his other for Melzan to get going. This drew a glare from Melzan, and a bit of a snarl. He used that. The slaves were terrified of their drow masters, and most weren’t as strong willed as this group. All he had to do is convince them to leave.

The bugbears looked a bit startled, and after a while longer of talking. Melzan raised his voice and the bugbears stepped back before looking at each other and rushing off. Standing there for at least a few minutes he wanted to make sure they were gone. Once he felt positive he motioned for the others to come to the guard tower. Things normally did not go this quick or easy. It placed the warriors on edge. Gutrick lead the way, Tyrnan close behind. Currently, they were the best close combat fighters due to their resilience. If they didn’t have the armor they could likely take a hit better than the other three. Protecting each other became a necessity rather quick as an elite guard found them breaking into the storage rooms. Shaleena busied herself with getting through the door as the others rushed to engage. No survivors. This elite guard and his subordinate could not be allowed to live and report their location.

A crossbow bolt hit into one of Tyrnan’s shoulders and for a moment he appeared lightheaded but shook it off. The Halfling dropped down from the place she’d claimed as a hiding spot, behind the two drow and slashed the subordinate’s hamstrings before rushing to the side.

“My names Ahroo, fear it!” she laughed as she danced away from the guard that came after her, slowed by his injury.

The elite drew out a second blade, the sword edges glistening with liquid. Bored and disappointed with the other, he decided to let him fight his own battle. In front of him stood two warriors and a worshiper of the daughter of Lolth. Killing the traitor to their kin would make Lolth very please with him, along with the elves. The human likely couldn’t do much against him. With a grin, he charged at Tyrnan. Get rid of the weakest first. His pace stopped as he felt a surge of fear that made his stomach drop, attention refocusing to the human.

Gutrick soon held up the single sword in an attempt to block all the remarkably quick blows assaulting him. Even a single scratches could prove fatal depending on what poison the Drow coated his blades in. Once the flurry finished he came in strong, forcing the elite to dodge and parry. The Drow couldn’t block such moves. Noticing movement to the side the guard had to jump back to avoid a charging blow from Tyrnan. A small amount of blood dripped from around the tiny shaft of the crossbow bolt.

“Can you hurry it up?” Melzan asked Shaleena. “They could really use any sort of armor or the weapons they are used to.”

“You want to try it? I think it’d take a lot longer,” she glared at him so hard he took a step back, then she continued working.

“Filthy iblith…” Melzan grumbled in the drow tongue before looking back to the fight.

They were doing alright for not having any armor. Gutrick had a small scrape across one of his arms but resisted the poison well enough. Tyrnan grinned a little, actually believing they could win. The sight left them suddenly as a globe of darkness filled the hall. A gurgled gasp came from the globe along with the sound of metal hitting metal. Almost as soon as it started the globe dissipated.

Laying on the ground clutching at a deep gash over his shoulder, Tyrnan seemed close to losing consciousness. The half-elf would not be able to fight more in this battle. Gutrick had the Drow pinned and was about to deliver the final blow when the other came back, Ahroo under one arm and a crossbow in his other hand. In the Halfling's, arm rested a bolt from the crossbow and she looked rather worse for wear. He aimed the crossbow.

Melzan reached down for some magic, any residual magic he could summon. Using the magic he found he let out a command. “Drop!”

Unprepared for the attack, the guard dropped everything he held. The crossbow and the halfling. This gave Gutrick time to stab down piercing the elite guard’s lung before taking up a dropped blade and surging forward while the remaining guard appeared shocked. A dull thud echoed as his head hit the ground, and another when his body finally joined it.

“I’m in!” Shaleena said with haste and began searching to get her things.

Melzan turned to do the same but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Looking up he found Gutrick staring at him, expression blank. Then he looked to the halfling and the half-elf before meeting Melzan’s eyes again.

“So what? They’re dead. Their usefulness is-” the hand tightened, but not painfully so. “You want me to… heal them.”

Another blank expression caused Melzan to grit his teeth a little.

“They are not wor-” the hand didn’t squeeze harder as he expected. Instead, his shoulder was released. Another patented Drow eye roll of annoyance given to Gutrick. “... Fine. There is no arguing with you. It’s going to end up getting us killed.” Melzan moved to start treating Tyrnan.

The blood stopped spilling onto the cold stone floor. The wound would need greater care later, but for now, the half-elf would be able to move and fight if necessary. Then he moved to the halfling and made sure she also survived and could wake up. Each took turns watching as others gathered their gear and anything else they deemed worth stealing in the short amount of time they had.

Getting out definitely took less time than getting in. When they were finally getting close to the exit alarm bells began to sound, screams echoing in the cavern. Something must be going very wrong at the party. The flapping of wings of some kind started getting louder. None of them wanted to stick around to find out what might be making those sounds.

“So what was so important to get for you?” Melzan asked the half-elf curiously. Other than his armor the man seemed to keep the new blades he’d found.

In his hand, he held up a musical instrument. “I could not leave my lute.”

Gutrick’s eyes widened, if only slightly. “You are an idiot.”