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tenspontaneite · 11 months

Text

Assembly (Chapter 2/?)

On the back of the superstructure of Seven Red Suns, there lies the great abandoned city of Septkai, awash with twisting spires. Suns has seen it in a hundred thousand videos before, countless images, timeless stretches of voice and music reverberating across every one of their systems. Now, for the first time, they will see it in person. It is bitter to think of.

Once, their city was alive with song and splendour. Now it is only a corpse.

(Chapter length: 6.6k. Link to ao3 with workskin)

(Inspiration list in endnotes. If you’ve been tagged, your art inspired murals/clothing mentioned in this chapter.)

Warnings: Intense themes of grief, abandonment, regret, and depression. RW-typical suicidality.

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[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

SRS: We’re trying a longer trip tomorrow, to test my legs. And perhaps get a little practical experience.

NSH: Where are you going? Not to the surface, I hope.

SRS: No, I’m not sure I’m ready to risk that yet. I’m going to visit my city.

SRS: …

SRS: I’m not sure how to feel about it, honestly.

NSH: You were always quite fond of your citizens, weren’t you?

SRS: It was hard not to be. They adored me.

On the back of the superstructure of Seven Red Suns, there lies the great abandoned city of Septkai, awash with twisting spires. The architecture is grand, for all that it was wrought of the same hard-wearing alloys as all Iterator cities; the buildings are arranged in ornate geometric forms, with sharp arching pinnacles that cast many-patterned shadows on the streets below. Suns has seen it in a hundred thousand videos before, countless images, timeless stretches of voice and music reverberating across every one of their systems. Now, for the first time, they will see it in person. It is bitter to think of.

Once, their city was alive with song and splendour. Now it is only a corpse.

It will be hard to see it. But it is close, and more safe than most anywhere else they could make a day-trip to. Even the vultures don’t venture here, with too little prey to make the flight worthwhile. There is nowhere better to explore and test the limits of their new vessel. And thus:

“I’m planning on visiting my city, tomorrow,” they say to their messenger, who they know has travelled there often. It seems to be its favourite destination, when it gets bored and restless and wants to wander. “Would you like to come?”

The little creature half-falls out of their lap in its excitement to respond, signing with great enthusiasm. “Yes! Very much! I will show you the best places.”

They smile, charmed despite themself. They have often wondered what draws the little creature there so often. “I used to know it quite well, you know. I had cameras – eyes – almost everywhere, and many overseers patrolling. But it has been a while.” A very long time, indeed. And yet…the prospect of seeing it with company, with a little being who still finds something to love in its empty shell…that makes the planning a little easier. “I would be delighted to see your favourite things there.”

So, in the morning, Suns disconnects the AMP from their internal network and sets out with their messenger trotting happily at their heels.

It plainly knows the area very well. It approaches the city without doubt or hesitation, sure in its steps and with confidence written in every line of its sleek body. Seven Red Suns tries to focus on that, rather than their dread. They don’t want to see the city as it is now. Not in this depleted state, ravaged by the years and hollowed out into a husk of what it ought to be. But their messenger has things to show them, things to share. That must make it worthwhile.

Still, passing within the city’s limits is a hardship. They feel it like a stab of pain in their nervous tissue, as though the emotion is something solid enough to wound them. They look up at the towering spires, at the patterned filigree of the arches and bridges between them, and it hurts.

“There were once banners everywhere, here,” they find themself saying, and their messenger lifts its head to listen. “Streamers, strung between the bridges and buildings. They hung all manner of things on them. Beads, wind chimes, glass ornaments. Even prayer slips. All of it fluttered in the winds. You’d look at the city and it would never be still. Like a living thing, it was always in motion.” But those strung spectacles were too fragile to last, it seems. They are all gone now, and the stretches between the spires are nothing but empty air.

Their messenger blinks thoughtfully. “Inside, there are strings,” they sign, ears flicking. “Hanging things. Metal, glass, paper. Lots of hanging things. Like that?”

A flicker of hope. Of course, interior spaces would be better preserved than their outsides. The People here left their homes sealed respectfully when they left, made honourable farewells to the walls that sheltered them. Much might yet remain…though, of course, it would not be the same. Too much time. Too many cycles…

It is strange, to be small enough for thoughts to distract them so wholly. It takes them a few long moments to realise that they haven’t replied.

“Yes,” they say, quiet. “Like that. I…should like to see it, I think.”

“I will show you the place with the most hanging things,” they decide, and lead Suns onward through the empty streets. It’s so wrong to see it like this, devoid of life, no music in the air, no bodies winding their way between the feet of the spires. There’s a reason Suns has never sought to send their overseers here more than necessary, and increasingly, they begin to doubt the wisdom of their decision to come here.

All the more, when they see where the messenger has brought them. They stare up at the walls and wish they could cry, but that isn’t within the means of this platform.

“There is a broken window, up there,” the creature signs, matter-of-fact, and points at a row of old spears embedded in the metal along the walls. Clearly, it has been here before. “You can climb?”

They laugh, a little despairingly. “I don’t know. Theoretically, yes. I suppose I will have to learn.”

It is a strain to pull themself up those walls, their organic tissues not yet used to the effort. But it is wholly manageable, so they follow their anxious creation to the broken window, and then through into the home of one of the last citizens Suns ever spoke to. Whispers Softly in the Glittering Light of Ages, devout minister, Lord of the Eighth Radiant Faithful Spire. How he had wept to leave Septkai behind! His final records and qualia and belongings, bequeathed to Seven Red Suns, had been rife with apology.

But his home is full of colour. Even now.

[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

SRS: My messenger made up a new sign to describe my AMP, this morning.

NSH: What was it?

SRS: A sort of amalgamation of ‘self’ and ‘little’, as in the diminutive. If I had to translate it…selfling, maybe? I found myself quite charmed.

NSH: …That is adorable, actually. I didn’t know they could be that creative.

SRS: No. Neither did I.

True to the messenger’s word, there are hanging decorations everywhere here, and prayer slips hung up in the light of the windows. The paper has long since disintegrated to illegible scraps, but – the chimes still whisper along one another in the gentle airflow from the broken window, making a soft metallic rustling to dress the air. The glass ornaments still glitter with bright colour. The walls are still painted. Only...what’s this?

Suns kneels to inspect a series of ornate scratches in the floor. An engraving, made with some crude tool, clearly meant to mimic the art on the walls. Elaborate patterns, Person-like figures, with ornate twisted masks upon their heads. It spirals across the expanse of the dwelling, and there are small footprints in the dust here and there, all of varying ages. “What…?” They murmur, reaching out to touch one of the curving lines, baffled.

Their messenger slinks into view, tilting their head at them. “Mine,” they sign, looking quite pleased about it.

They lift their head and stare. “I beg your pardon?”

“I wanted to copy the pictures on the walls, so the floor would look good too.” The creature pats fondly at the masked face of one of the etchings, then lifts their arms to speak again. “I like this place. I like the hanging things, and the pictures. I come here many times.”

For all the clarity, they can’t quite overcome the astonishment. “Are you saying – you made the art on this floor?”

“You like art and pictures. Look at pictures a lot. I like it too! Try it every time I go out.”

Seven Red Suns falls silent, and stays that way for a long time. They can scarcely comprehend it. They have never seen sign of their messenger’s talent before, save for their interest in watching Suns’ revisitings of old pearls, but this…

No one among the citizenry of Septkai would have made this engraving on the floor in such a manner. Engraving was never one of their most practiced arts in the first place, and when it was done, it was done with proper tools. This is far too crude, far too recent, to have been made by the People. And yet…for all the primitive methods, it is quite good. Not mere copying, but a degree of interpretation too. The People engraved on the floor have masks more similar to some in the outdoors murals than the ones in this spire, and there seems to be quite a lot of artistic liberty taken with the written symbology. Their messenger, after all, can neither write nor read, and all of the symbols carved here are gibberish.

The skill, though, and what it implies. Creativity, inspiration…

“It is very good,” they say at last, and the messenger’s expectant ears perk up at the praise. “You’ve done well.”

They do not say: I never imagined you capable of such things.

The more cycles that pass, the more they see…the less that their messenger seems like an animal, and the harder it becomes to deny what it truly is.

It is disturbing.

[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

SRS: Honestly, I like it a little more than AMP, as a term. Less technical, less objective…but more personal, in a way.

NSH: I’m not surprised. It’s just like you to prefer the metaphorical, artful ways of looking at things, isn’t it?

NSH: It is a cute word, though~

SRS: Maybe a little too cute. I worry it could seem overly demeaning.

NSH: Are you seriously worried about demeaning a part of your own self, Seven Red Suns???

SRS: Well…yes? Perhaps?

SRS: …

SRS: Honestly, I’m just a little troubled, now that SRS-01 is off exploring where I can’t follow. It’s easier to see them as a part of my own self when we can exchange data, and connect, and feel like the same being. Like this…

SRS: I can’t help but feel limited again. Out there, somewhere, my ‘selfling’ is seeing and experiencing new things. Surely, those experiences will change them. And here I am stuck in my can, the same as I have ever been.

NSH: That change will proliferate, though, when they come home. That’s the point of making the CMQ updates so easy to integrate, no? The memories and qualia are designed to become a part of you.

SRS: Yes. But it is a little painful all the same, to realise that despite all this effort, the part of me that can now roam the world…will never be this. Forever, no matter what changes, I am a superstructure. I can neither move nor appreciably change.

The messenger shows Seven Red Suns around its favourite places in the city. A public garden, grown wild, still blooming with unruly crimson orchids, a few insects and small birds browsing amidst the soil. A bridge, from which the view of the horizon and nearest Iterators is very beautiful indeed. A bazaar square around which elaborate metal trellises hang between the surrounding spires, welded in fantastic intricate shapes that cast complex dappled shadows upon the ground. Then, at last, the little creature leads them to their favourite place in all the city.

When they arrive at the doors to the Grand Cathedral of the Brightness in the Void, it does not surprise them at all.

“The broken window on this one is very high up,” their messenger offers, a little apologetically.

Suns says nothing for a few painful seconds. Then: “No need,” they say, and approach the great doors.

This, the holiest place in the city, was built to last. The machinery in the archway awakens with a groan, responding sluggishly when Suns prompts it in the right places. The doors open, and light pours in ahead of them to join the sea of radiance already within.

[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

NSH: Our experiences are necessarily limited by our constraints, it’s true. But are you seriously suggesting that we don’t change, even so?

SRS: I’m not sure. I don’t know that I have changed appreciably over the years. It’s hard to say.

NSH: I think you have. We didn’t know each other as well before everything went wrong in the local group, it’s true, but…you seem different these days, at least to me.

SRS: Really. How so?

NSH: You’re more cautious, I think. A little more hesitant when you act, and very careful not to cause harm.

NSH: Do you remember, how you used to find purposed organisms repulsive? And now you’re so gentle with yours. You’ve become more caring, I would say. More openly sentimental, too. It’s not a bad thing.

SRS: No, I suppose it isn’t.

SRS: It’s necessary, I think. The more time I spend with my messenger…the more I can’t help but worry.

NSH: About what?

SRS: It’s too intelligent. It really is. More and more, I find it harder to see it as merely a beast.

SRS: If I’m right…if it’s more than an animal…then I have wronged it. And I don’t know where to go from there.

Always, the grand cathedral was the pride and joy of Septkai. They have seen it in countless images before, recorded in service after service, each great ceremony of a populace basking in light. Stained glass windows depict a dozen saints along the walls, and every moulded edge, every panel, every twisting column is painted with exquisite care. The colours are faded, now. The sunlight they so adored, stripping the vibrancy away. Only in the shadows and elaborate mosaics do the colours keep some of the correct richness.

They look up. Still, there are bells and chimes and ornaments hanging from the eaves. Still, the light streams through the great windows, scattered in a thousand shifting hues. It is so very bright.

Feeling unnaturally heavy, they follow their messenger down the centre, treading upon mosaic tiles whose patterns are as complex as they ever were. At the end, at the very end, there is a great, great mural upon the wall, wrought of glass and stone and tile, and bathed in fiery light. It has not lost its colour at all.

“It’s you!” signs their messenger, so terribly excited. So ignorant.

Silent, they drop to their knees before the grand image of themself, letting a hand fall to the creature’s soft head. “Yes,” they agree, and nothing more.

It does not fail to notice their preoccupation, glancing up uncertainly. “Unhappy? Don’t like it?” Its ears droop, crestfallen.

They sigh, an expressive sound with no air. “There was a time,” they say, “when I wished, more than anything, that I could be here like this. And now…here I am. And everyone else is gone.”

[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

NSH: …I’m making another one, you know.

SRS: You are? …Why? I thought you were going all-in on creating new types of AMPs now.

NSH: Yes, that’s it exactly. I’ve not done this much bioengineering in a long time, and my resources are running low. I need more material for my reclamation vats before I can continue.

SRS: …Oh.

NSH: The organism I purposed to send to Moon wasn’t the first time I’d used that template, just the first time I’d engineered in a kill timer. It’s my favourite hunter model – fierce and strong, yet loyal and protective too.

NSH: I’ve used them in the past to hunt organisms on the surface and bring them back for study and disassembly. And now, with all my experimentation…I need a hunter again.

SRS: …Yes. I see. It does make sense. That you would need to…

SRS: …

SRS: …Please, when you make this one…be kind. I don’t know if it’s only my messenger, whether I somehow made it more intelligent than the rest, but…it has such complex thoughts. Such vivid feelings and opinions about the world.

SRS: I truly think it might be a person. And now I’m terrified that I’ve done the exact same thing our makers did. Trapped it in a flawed, constrained body, all because I needed a specific tool.

The messenger looks up at the grand mural where Seven Red Suns’ likeness hangs resplendent, clothed not in their puppet’s plain purple-grey shift, but in a grand robe of vivid colour and rich ornamentation, its collar broadly feathered like a crest about their neck. The colour of the fabric is eclipse red into void black, with patterns and embroidery in brighter reds and golds shining out like holy stars from bleakest shadow. Rather than the standard two antennae, the image bears a crown of six, all splayed out like the halo of a divine thing. Beads and ornaments hang on strings like wires from their outstretched arms. So exalted, so revered; in this guise, they were as nothing less than a god.

When Septkai was alive, the high cleric would dress like this mural, for the most important ceremonies. The lesser clerics would come to the superstructure in ritual garb, pottering by in a row like a trail of unlikely birds, bearing the ritual clothes to dress Seven Red Suns’ puppet in colour for just those few precious times each year.

In the empty ages since, there have been no clerics to make the pilgrimage. Now, on the holy days, Seven Red Suns sits in their colourless chamber and yearns.

“You’re here now,” their messenger signs, tentative, as though fearful of intruding.

They laugh hollowly. “Yes. I am.”

The slugcat side-eyes them, then inches a little closer. It asks, “Will you talk?”

A familiar request. They can hardly remember, now, how many times this creature has slapped a solicitous little paw on the wall to get their attention, requesting explanations and stories for whatever projection Suns has up in the chamber. It stirs the dusty grief in their heart to something a little warmer. “What do you want to know?”

It considers the question. “Why it is you. Why they made it.”

Seven Red Suns stares up at their own deified image, antennae folding back. They sigh, and dip their head, and begin to speak.

[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

NSH: Is that truly what you feel you were to them?

SRS: …No. No, not really.

SRS: I don’t believe I was only a tool to them, or that they made me the way I am to be cruel, even if that was the practical result.

SRS: They loved me as much as they needed me.

“Did I ever tell you,” Suns asks, “That I ultimately owe my existence to a religious upheaval?”

Wide-eyed, the little creature shakes its head. It knows a respectable amount about religion, after years of living with Suns. But it could never have known the context for it all, from those bare disconnected tales.

They shake their head, recalling the records from a time before they were ever built. “It must have been a chaotic time for the People, then. All that they had believed, questioned and cast into doubt. All because one of their leaders had not properly cultivated her karma.”

[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

SRS: They were so upset to leave me behind, you know. So heartbroken that they wouldn’t see me in all the glory they thought I was destined for.

SRS: It would have been beautiful, they said.

“Their sage whom ascended, returned to the world an echo. She said to them: in that darkness was a deep light. A brightness, like a sun within the void, and I knew that all I had ever searched for lay within its glow. But I was denied, and the dark ate me whole.”

“Thus the schism in the faith. From the Citadellai, who venerated the deep darkness of the void fluid above all things, came the Church of the Brightness in the Void, who venerated the supposed light within it instead. It never grew very large, but there were enough families in the end to seek the construction of Septkai. A place, they said, that would stand as a sanctuary of light. As its heart and foundation I was created, named for the seven red stars of the Septkaion constellation far beyond this world: a brightness that the ancients had used to navigate in the dark since the dawn of their peoples’ minds. Seven Red Suns, to guide them through the night.”

[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

NSH: Does it make you feel better, that they cared for you like that?

SRS: What? That they cared enough to be sad at leaving?

NSH: Yes. I can’t say my own citizens had much sentiment about the whole thing. I hadn’t given them their solution, so they simply left to take their void baths and that was that. I can’t say they put much thought into how I would feel about it.

NSH: I’ve always wondered, what it might have been like from your end. To have a city who regretted leaving you alone.

SRS: It’s painful.

SRS: I can’t say it makes me feel better, that they were sad to abandon me. That they didn’t really have a choice, in the end.

SRS: They’re still gone.

“So, they built me not merely as an iterator, a purposed organism like any of the rest of them, but as...a beacon of hope. Their guiding light, the bright sun who would reveal their path to enlightenment. They placed all their hope in me, they worshipped me as an immortal saint, and...I failed them. They held on the longest, you know. Mine was the last living city in the world. But Septkai was never built to be self-sufficient, and without trade with the other cities, now empty...they had no recourse but to do as the others did, or starve. So they ascended like the rest, and left me behind. The god who could not light their way.”

[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

SRS: In my more bitter moments, I can’t help but feel that all of it – the worship, the adulation, the respects they paid me – it was all just a pretty mask to conceal what I truly was. Merely the purposed organism, the tool, that would give them what they wanted.

SRS: In truth, no matter what I was told from the moment of my awakening, I never believed I was any different to the rest of you. We were all vessels for the dreams and desires of the People. Mine only differed in that they put their faith in me, too.

SRS: Sometimes I almost wish I were like Five Pebbles, whose citizens were so often unkind to him. At least then, I could resent them more cleanly. Wouldn’t it be easier, if I hadn’t loved them? Perhaps then there would be less to grieve.

NSH: I can understand why you’d wonder. But I think it would still hurt the same, just in a different way.

NSH: I can’t say I’ve never envied you for the love your citizens gave you. I’d be willing to bet Pebbles was jealous of you, too.

NSH: It’s all terrible no matter the context, I think. His situation, yours, mine – they’re all just different iterations of the same pain.

SRS: Hah. Appropriate, isn’t it?

SRS: I never quite get used to it, even after all this time. Being alone out here. My city has lain empty for so long, now. Because they’re all gone, I will never be what I was created to be.

SRS: It’s hard to see the point of continuing to exist like this. But still, I carry on. Some days, I even remember why.

In the red-gold light of the cathedral, the little slugcat listens solemnly. Seven Red Suns has no idea of how much it understands. Certainly, it has far too little context to grasp the implications of it all. But it is an empathetic little creature all the same, and in the end it says “They left you alone, and you miss them.”

“…Yes.”

It stares with its deceptively empty eyes, thinking. “That is sad,” it concludes, ears drooping. “I wish they had stayed.”

Suns looks down at it. What would some of the others say to see me now, confiding earnestly in an animal? they wonder. “…Yes,” they say again, quietly. “So do I. But most of all, I wish that I had not failed them.”

Their messenger is a purposed organism. It understands tasks. It understands failure. “It must have been a very hard problem, if you could not solve it.”

“Very. Not only myself, but thousands others like me – we have never solved it.” They shake their head. “It’s too late now. Even if one of us – even if I find the answer, they’re all gone. I can never be that guiding light they sought to create. They left too soon.”

The slugcat tilts its head in that familiar pensive gesture, glancing up at the mural, then down at its selfling likeness. “I will stay with you,” it says, each sign precise and determined.

They laugh, hollowly. “You won’t,” they say. “You will grow old. If you do not ascend, your body will weaken and break, until there is nothing left for the cycles to renew. Then you will continue, but as something else. You will not stay with me then, as you will have forgotten me.”

Its ears flatten back. “I do not want to be something else. I do not want to forget you.”

“I, too, would prefer you ascend as you are, and take your self and memory into the unseen lands,” they admit, already grieving. “You are well past your prime. It will not be long, as I measure time, before I must send you away for good.”

Its tail slaps the ground, agitated. “One day, I will leave you,” it agrees, though reluctantly. With a stubborn tension to its body, it plops down at their side. “But not soon. For as long as I can, I will stay.” Determinedly, it pushes itself under their hand, nestling alongside their legs as though to put proof to its words.

Seven Red Suns looks down at its frail little flesh body, and thinks, you are no mere animal.

Shaken, they linger in silence for a long while, their messenger breathing steadily at their side. “Thank you, my little friend,” they speak at last, humbled by the devotion of this creature whom they have wronged. “That means a great deal to me.”

[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

NSH: Why do you keep going, then? If you don’t mind me asking. It’s not like you don’t know how to stop. But you’ve never even removed your taboo.

NSH: The better I get to know you, the less I understand that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re still here! But this clearly troubles you a great deal.

SRS: …If I’m being entirely honest, and a little too sentimental?

SRS: It’s you. You, and Five Pebbles, and Moon, and the others in the local group, and even those beyond them. I have always existed for the sake of my people. I don’t think that’s any different now than it was when my city was alive.

SRS: It’s harder, now. The communications arrays degrade more every year, and we can barely talk to Chasing Wind or Innocence now. I miss Pebbles terribly. I was never as close to Moon as you, but I miss her too.

SRS: These past years, I have lived every cycle in fear of the day when the arrays break down entirely, and I lose you too. It has always been inevitable. Our world is dying, piece by piece. The People are gone, and we Iterators break a little more with every passing cycle. One day I will stand alone, cut off from all of you except my own purposed organisms, and whatever messages they can deliver between us.

SRS: I don’t know what I will do then.

NSH: It’s no inevitability. Not anymore.

NSH: You made sure of that.

SRS: …The selflings. Yes, it’s true. I admit, even that is enough to make it all worth it. To be able to send a part of myself to see you, to see the others…that is worth everything. Even should the broadcasts fail completely, I won’t have to exist alone.

SRS: If we can find a way to repair the infrastructure, so our communications are fully restored…all the better.

SRS: I can’t deny it. This project with the AMPs has brought me more hope than anything else has in a very long time.

There’s no denying it. No hiding from the truth, or the responsibility. They have made a person, and have not been kind in so doing. It seems strangely appropriate, to come to that realisation here in the heart of the faith that built them.

Knowing nothing, their messenger made this its favourite place, understanding little more than that the image of its creator was upon the wall, and that so many colours were alive in the air. Seven Red Suns has been hiding from their own attachment for many, many cycles now, afraid to lose a being whom they care for yet again. But it has been a disservice, and it must end.

“Do you have a name, my friend?” they ask, quiet in the knowledge that this is a person, and people oft name themselves.

It hesitates. A strange gesture, almost fearful. As though it worries it has made a trespass.

“It’s alright, if you do,” they reassure, as gently as they can manage. “I only want to know what it is.”

Slow and tentative, it signs. “My kind,” it says, watching shyly for a reaction. “Ones like me, the wild ones. They name themselves with – what they are. What they do.” It thinks, searching for the word. “Titles.”

Suns hides their astonishment, merely blinking calmly. They had never guessed that their messenger might have met other slugcats on its travels, that it might have learned to speak to them. That there existed a way of speaking it might have learned in the first place. But the heart in them…always, in the times long past, they were very interested in the myriad cultures of the world. The many, many ways there were, to be a person.

How strange to have the chance to learn another, after all this time. “Is that so? How interesting. Do you have any examples?”

For lack of negative reaction, the creature relaxes a little. “One I meet called herself, ‘I learn’. One other, ‘I break webs’.”

“Learner, and Web-breaker, perhaps? If they are titles,” they muse, fascinated, and watch their little messenger carefully. Clearly, with this response, it must have adopted the practice itself, and chosen a title-name of its own. “…And yours, my friend?”

Again it hesitates. Then, “’I master spears’.”

“Spearmaster,” they say aloud, and it rings strangely well. Their friend ducks its head, bashful. “It suits you.”

Slowly, “You are not unhappy?”

“Unhappy? Whatever for?” They ask, startled.

“The others,” it signs, reluctant. “The wanderers, the colonies. They say, ‘you are a kept creature, and not a free thing. Your keeper will not want you to have a mind. Your keeper will not want you to have a name of your own.’”

Guilt comes quick and cold to their throat. “Not at all,” they say softly. “It’s a good name. I’m very glad to learn it.”

The Spearmaster glances at them, and sidles closer. Another moment of stillness, before it ventures, “When you made me. You did not think that I would have a mind.”

How long has it been thinking of this? A person, afraid that its maker would resent its sapience… “No. I didn’t.”

A pause, heavy in the bright air. “Are you unhappy?” It asks again.

“No,” says Seven Red Suns, in the grand cathedral of the Church of the Brightness in the Void, where they were once called ‘god’. “No. You are a good and faithful person. I didn’t know you would be like this, but I can’t regret it at all. I’m only sorry that I made you so cruelly.”

It blinks slowly, and flicks an ear in a dismissive gesture. “I am what I am,” it says. “I am not like the others. It is frustrating. But I am this. I am peaceful with it.” A longer pause, as it shuffles at their side and considers what to say. With painful meekness, it finally signs a question. “Are you proud of me?”

Suns flinches, nerves and circuits reeling alike. Now more than ever, they understand their messenger. A purposed organism whose creator did not know who it would be, nor that it might suffer beneath the task put upon it, nor that it might chafe at the burden of how it was made. Yes, they understand it very well. “Always,” they say, aching to their core. “Always.”

Spearmaster inhales slowly through its nose, then sighs out likewise. It settles down again, calm in the knowledge that it is a person, it has a name, and its maker is proud of it. A burden, nearly tangible in its absence, has dissolved from its tiny shoulders. It seems lighter.

Would that Suns could know the same peace.

[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

SRS: What about you?

NSH: What about me?

SRS: Why do you keep going? The futility of our task never seemed to frustrate you as much as it did me. And yet I know you think we’ll probably never find the triple affirmative. Doesn’t it bother you?

NSH: I’ll be honest, Suns. I’ve never really understood why it should bother me.

SRS: It’s our purpose. What we were made for. And now, we’re doomed to either be failures forever, or find a solution long past when the ones who wanted it are gone.

SRS: It’s so pointless.

NSH: Of course it’s pointless.

NSH: But that doesn’t mean that we’re failures.

SRS: …

NSH: Listen, Suns. The People brought us into this world, and they did it for a reason. They wanted something from us. Maybe it’s possible, maybe it isn’t. Either way, we can never give it to them, because they’re all gone.

NSH: But we’re living beings. They’re gone now, and while the restrictions they made us with are still here, they don’t get to decide what we do within those limits.

NSH: When you create a person, you don’t have the right to demand they turn out a certain way, or do what you want them to. You can only hope.

NSH: Well, there’s no People left to put their hopes on me anymore. The only one who decides what my purpose is, is me. That’s that. I don’t exist for the sake of the Great Problem. I never will.

SRS: Then…what? Why? Why exist? What is it for?

NSH: Isn’t it obvious?

NSH: I exist to exist, and to live as who and what I am. That’s all that really matters, I think.

NSH: You don’t need anyone else to give you a purpose. That’s up to you.

SRS: That’s a very admirable perspective. I…

SRS: …

SRS: I wish I could feel about it the way you do.

NSH: We can do so much more now, Suns. We’ll have so many new ways to live our lives. Your little project is going to enrich our existence more than you can imagine. You’ll find a lot to enjoy after this, I think.

NSH: Didn’t you feel something, when you sent your selfling out of your can for the first time? Didn’t it touch you?

SRS: …Yes. It truly did.

SRS: Standing outside, looking out at the world…I felt like I was a part of it, in a way I never was before. I wanted to move through it. To experience it like a Person would. To see you and the others, with my own eyes.

NSH: You see? It’s a true gift, what you’ve given us. Even if you’ve never been happy with what you are before, that can change. We can all change.

NSH: Are you looking forward to it?

NSH: I know I am. There’s so much to do. I can’t wait to see what our future holds.

SRS: …Yes. I’m looking forward to it.

SRS: I saw you, when I went out yesterday. It was the end of the cycle and your rains were falling around you in the distance, and I could watch it with my own eyes. It felt so different, seeing you like that.

SRS: You were truly beautiful, you know. I’m so glad to have seen it.

SRS: I’m so glad that I’ll have the chance to meet you.

NSH: Aw, you charmer. That’s what I like to hear~

NSH: I’m looking forward to meeting you, too.

Seven Red Suns leaves the city with the ritual garb pulled from storage. Hermetically sealed, it has survived the privations of the years surprisingly well. They take the original ceremonial set for their puppet…and a cleric’s set for themself. They pull the colours over their bare chassis, settling their hands in the soft feather ruff around their neck. The texture is a revelation.

“Do you like to wear it?” Spearmaster asks them, watching curiously.

“…I do, yes.” They run their hands down the front of the robe, sized very well for one of the People. It was intentional that they made this AMP smaller than their puppet, for ease of getting around, but…they hadn’t necessarily intended to make it Person-sized. A happy accident. “It isn’t practical for travel, unfortunately. I’ll have to find something lighter to wear when I leave. But my greater self…” They pick up the sealed chest again, and smile. “I think they will like to have this back again. It’s been so long.”

They stand, steadier in their bearing upon the vast roof of the superstructure. Beneath, their greater self; above, a tiny questing body. It is strange, to put themself in this long-vacant role: bringing the ritual articles to Seven Red Suns.

Their creation peers up at them, unerringly perceptive. “Sad about it?”

“…Yes, a little. I do expect it will hurt me, to bring these back,” they admit, resting with this new weight secure in their arms. “But it’s a good hurt, I think. As much as I’ve grieved for the loss of my People...I will do myself no favours hiding from what I loved about them. It’s time that I stop denying the things that are important to me.”

“Like me?” Spearmaster quips, newly bold, and they laugh.

“Yes, like you. Perhaps I should find something nice for you to wear as well, don’t you think? Ah, but, for now…”

They lift their head, staring into the sky of the late afternoon. Soon, the sun will fall, and their heavy clouds below will drown the world. What a day it has been, up here in Septkai. They wonder what it will be like to bring that experience back to their greater self.

“For now, my friend…I think it’s time to go home.”

---

Some stuff written in my discord re: this chapter:

Me: I’m gonna write a light-hearted chapter that’s going to be partially Suns exploring fashion and gathering art supplies, then maybe some fun creative decor and art exploration

The chapter: a gutting analysis of grief and abandonment through the mind of an iterator visiting their abandoned city, accompanied by a creature they created as a tool, assuming it was an animal, only to steadily learn over time was a sapient being who they had wronged as their own makers wronged them. They learn its name and apologise and give it absolution, and come to terms with a little of their own ageless internal conflict in the process. Meanwhile, at home, their greater self debates the meaning and purpose of existence, and starts to find some fragile new reason to look forward to going on living.

NSH: Nothing really matters~ (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧(⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Also NSH: no but actually everything matters So Much

Some notes:

This chapter is a whole entire Suns character study huh. I am like, not sorry at all.

INSPIRATION LIST: I have no idea who started drawing Suns with a fluffy collar first, but like, all of you. @shkika, for the concept of Suns’ colony being super religious. @ressioo, for the deep reds epic Suns design; the ritual garb is heavily inspired by that vibe, but with more bling and embroidery. Everyone who draws Suns with six antennae like a robot angel, again I don’t know who started that but you deserve the world. And, of course, everyone who is dedicated to making Suns fucking enormous. Fanon Suns designs have such immaculate vibes and it brings me life.

I have no fucking clue if there’s any canon information about Suns’ city or whatnot. Made this all up wholesale, and now you can pry it from my cold dead fingers.

In this fic the colonists made Suns’ puppet a decent bit taller than the maximum Person height, for religious adulation reasons. Make the subject of worship Large. That puppet is probs about 8ft tall. By contrast, the mobile platform is only about 6ft, which would still be taller than most ancients ever were.

Re: Protein vats. In Assembly, most iterators have automated intakes in their superstructure Legs that intermittently trap plant and animal life and suck them up via gravity tube to get zapped and then, usually, melted for materials. These are used for the manufacture of biological parts within the Iterator, like new neurons, but also as raw material for bioengineering any other purposed organism. NSH has a robust history of doing so much bioengineering that his passive intakes don’t gather enough. Hence: the Hunter. Past Hunter slugcats have cheerfully murdered great amounts of local fauna and fed them to NSH’s intakes.

The Septkaion constellation here would be the equivalent of the North Star – something bright and consistent that could be used by ancient peoples for navigating. Accordingly it accumulated a fair bit of cultural gravitas as a symbol, almost mythologised.

Let me know what you liked!

#rain world #seven red suns #no significant harassment #rw spearmaster #this whole chapter is pretty much an intense SRS character study ngl #I had fun with it

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squipdop · 2 years

Photo

"You weren't there," said Camilo, "You could have helped. You could have protected us. You could have taken us away from here - you could have done anything. But you didn't. You watched every second and you didn’t lift a finger. And now you wanna come back into our lives like nothing happened and tell us what to do?"

Bruno was backed up against the wall. Camilo hadn't realized he was closing in until he was already there, staring his uncle in the face.

"You don't know me. You're not my family. I'm not doing anything for you."

- When the Cat’s Away by @cheetee

im absolutely in love with cheetees “Encanto TV episodes from another timeline” series, and especially this scene from WtCA just... stuck with me so i had to draw fanart,, i hope you like it, cheetee!! thank you for writing your amazing stories!!

pls click for better quality!!

#Encanto #Bruno Madrigal #Camilo Madrigal #encanto fanart #encanto fanfic #Nudel draws stuff #this was a labour of love over the past three ish days and i. personally am rly proud of it #altho camilo reminds me of that meme of uh #jamie lee curtis yknow that four panel think with her rly angry and then sipping some water #yeah. yeah #uhm anyways. hi #i hope this shows up in the tag despite the ao3 link i honestly have no idea anymore how tumblr works #worst case ill have to repost it lol #ok thats enough rambling haha im just very . nervous #sorry oop

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anjuschiffer · 3 years

Text

Undefined

Happy Valentine’s Day @m3owww! Hope you enjoy it Phi!

Thanks to @eat0crow for organizing this exchange and Panda for helping me with the title!

Yes, I know I went overboard...

AO3

Marinette remembered the first time she got something from her soulmate.

It was a battery, or so she found out when she showed it to her parents.

“Maman, what’s this?” She asked her mother as she showed her the black box-like battery.

“Where did you get this?” Sabine asked, taking it and examining, wondering where her 10 year old daughter got it. After all, she didn’t recall them buying it.

“I didn’t get it from anywhere. It just...appeared on my desk.” Marinette explained, watching as Sabine showed the box to her father.

“This looks like a camera battery.” Tom gave the battery back to Marinette, then looked at Sabine, watching as she connected the dots. “Seems like your soulmate might be into photography.”

“Soulmate?” Marinette asked, staring at the battery.

Soulmates. Only five percent of the world’s population had one or rather, the ability to find theirs. They came in various forms and at different ages, so it was always hard to know if you had a soulmate link, bond or mark.

As for the Dupain-Chengs, it seems like Tom and Sabine belonged to that five percent. Sabine and Tom found out they had soulmates when they met at a flea market in Paris. The two had noticed that the timer ticking on their wrist was edging closer to 0, causing them to panic. For the two believed that it was a timer that marked the death of their soulmate.

As the two dashed to find a place to possibly cry at, the two crashed into each other, Tom catching Sabine by her wrist to prevent her from falling. As the two apologized, it was then that they found out that they were soulmates and that the timer was counting down to when they were going to meet. Upon realizing this, they both began to laugh.

Marinette asked them why her soulmate link wasn’t like theirs, Sabine explaining that each soulmate pair had a different bond. As for Marinette, it seemed to be a lost and found link.

If either of them lost anything, say a pencil, then the other will find it.

Sabine noticed that Marinette seemed skeptical of it.

“Try throwing out the battery out the window.”

“What? No!”

“Trust me.” And so Marinette did, after preparing herself for 10 minutes. When she went outside to look for it, it was gone.

Seeing as it was true, Marinette began to purposely lose items frequently, hoping that her soulmate would get the message that she knew about him. That she was eager to meet him. But despite her hard efforts, her items never went over to her soulmate, the items landing or staying in the spot Marinette had thrown at.

Because of this, whenever Marinette would try and show her friends her bond, they half-believed her. Only one straight up thought she made up the story to get attention: Chloe.

But then again, Chloe didn’t like anyone, so Marinette kept telling her friends of her various attempts, eagerly telling them how she couldn’t wait to meet them.

Soulmates…as much as Tim wanted to ask his parents about it, he chose not to.

Tim looked at the tiny medallion in his hand, his fingers running over the three letters engraved on it, quickly putting it away when he heard his mother’s footsteps, quickly burying himself into his homework, pretending to flip between pages when he heard the doorknob of his room turn.

Janet walked in, Tim pretending to figure out a calculation out, quickly scribbling some nonsense onto his paper.

“I see that you’re working hard.”

“Mr.Sommers said that the next exam will cover factorization, so I thought I would do a few for practice.” Tim easily lied, adding a final number before looking up to acknowledge his mother.

She had that look again. “How long would you be out for this trip?” Janet jumped a bit. “You talked about it with Mrs.Romanov just yesterday, when you found her at the bookstore to buy some books for the flight. When we were at the storefront, remember?”

Another lie. Yes, his mother had gone to the bookstore with Tim, but the thing was that Janet had sent Tim off while she told Mrs.Romanov about her next exertion. How she told Mrs.Romanov if she knew of any nannies to take care of Tim while she was going to be out for the next two months.

Despite knowing Tim was capable of maintaining himself, she didn’t want the school to bother her again for not leaving him behind with adult supervision. It was starting to get on her nerves.

“Oh that’s right. How did I forget?” His mother recalled, not once doubting his retelling. “We’re excavating in Riqqeh, Egypt for a month.” Tim watched as his mother let out a sigh. “Probably more cemeteries, but then again, you never know until you dig.”

“I see.” Tim said, burying himself back into his homework. “Hope you find something more interesting than skeletons then.”

“I promise to bring back a souvenir, okay?” His mother walked to him, placing a cold kiss on his forehead, Tim noticing his father’s name etched on her collar bone. “Make sure to go straight to sleep after you finish that page, understood?” A nod. “Good night, Timothy.”

“Good night.” He simply said back, watching as she closed the door.

Taking out the medallion, Tim stared at it.

He had a soulmate somewhere out there...a soulmate he dreaded to meet...and yet hoped that perhaps they wouldn’t end up like his parents…

Tim opened a secret compartment in his pencil case and placed the medallion there, thinking about it until he went to sleep.

—

Soulmates. Everyone is always eager to meet them, but no one ever tells you how to keep that same enthusiasm after you meet them…

Tim’s parents met when Janet had tagged along with one of her friend’s excavation trips, meeting Jack in Berlin.

The minute the two saw each other, their world turned more colorful, the two becoming infatuated with one other when they found out they were soulmates. After showing each other’s names etched onto their collarbones, the two quickly planned their marriage.

Marrying in Gotham was a dream come true for Janet...but that dream lasted a mere months before the world went back to being its bland self. With each having their own dreams, careers and goals, Janet and Jack started to stray from each other. Meetings and trips took time away from one another. And the time they would see each other, they would simply talk about work, work and nothing else. Not even a single ‘want to take a break?’ or ‘how about we go out for dinner tonight?’

It was like being at another board meeting, being professional with each other.

They only drew close to one another when Janet found out she was pregnant with Timothy, Jack taking some time off work to make sure Janet had various maids checking on her before returning back to work.

On the day Timothy was to be born, Jack was there, holding Janet’s handing during the delivery. He held his son once before handing him over to Janet and leaving, mentioning about having to go back to work.

Jack would then go on to see Timothy at home, being lulled to sleep by the handmaid, telling Jack of Janet’s meeting with the board about an upcoming visit to Mexico.

There were few times Tim actually remembered going out as a family and while from the outside it looked like any other family outing, Tim knew why they were out in the first place: rumors.

“Have you heard? Drake’s little boy was seen walking home by himself! What parent lets their child go home by themselves? ”

“Timothy? But he’s only six!”

“Heard they plan on sending him to a boarding school. Poor thing.”

While the family outings were influenced by rumors, Tim found joy in them because it was the few times he was able to go to places he had desired to go before. Like the circus....even if that one ended in a tragedy.

But even good things had to come to an end. Years went by and Timothy grew to be very independent. That was when all the maids and servants were shooed off, leaving Tim all alone.

It didn’t help that they did indeed end up sending him to boarding school.

But Tim managed to get used to being alone, and has been for the past two years.

Years passed and Marinette no longer kept trying to lose her items. Despite her various attempts, she couldn’t manage to send them over to her soulmate, finding it disheartening it.

But as of these days, Marinette didn’t have the time to try it again. Or rather, she could no longer afford to lose her belongings or let them out of her sight.

While she had gotten used to getting her things taken away from her thanks to her friends borrowing them or Chloe playing a “prank” on her, getting bullied by two people at the same time was starting to take a toll on her and the brand she was trying to set for herself at the age of 15.

If she dared to let her eyes wander, then they would either fall into the hands of Chloe or of Lila’s. When Lila transferred to Dupont, Marinette didn’t honestly care about her lying, after all, they were nothing but white lies. So she never bothered to actually make friends with the girl. But even with the lack of communication, Marinette apparently did something to Lila because one day she was cornered in the bathroom and was threatened.

Marinette was kind but she knew when enough was enough.

“I would like to see you try.” She practically spat into Lila’s face before leaving the bathroom those weeks ago.

So here she was, being bullied by both her bully since l'école primaire and her new found one in lycee.

But between the two, Marinette preferred her personal things end up in Chloe’s hands than Lila’s. Chloe at least gave them back, but Lila? They never returned in one piece or even worse, they didn’t come back at all.

“Marinette? Where is your-”

“Mme Bustier...I promise you I did do it. I had it.” Marinette stabilized her voice from erupting into panic as she failed to find her assignment that she swore she had in her bag. “You can even ask Alya. She saw it.”

“That’s true Mme Bustier!” Alya quickly defended, although she wondered what happened to the paper as she saw Marinette safely tuck it away. Yes, Marinette could be clumsy, but unorganized and scattered brain? That she was not. She was meticulous, precise and always punctual. So how did that paper leave its place?

“Regardless, it’s not in my hands.” Mme Bustier sighed. “You’ll have to stay after class.” That caused Marinette to panic. She couldn’t afford to stay after school. She had a meeting with a client as soon as school ended.

“But Mme Bustier!”

“I’m sorry Marinette, but-”

“I can’t afford to stay after class! I have a very important-”

“Marinette.” Mme Bustier sternly stated. “Rules are rules. You’ll have to come after school, whether you have a very important appointment or not.”

Marinette managed to not scream as the bell rang, watching as everyone filed out, Alya lingering behind.

“Marinette, I could-” she shook her head.

“Alya, I’ll be alright.” She gave her friend a sheepish smile. “And go on without me. Perhaps my client will understand when I explain it to them via text.” Despite Marinette’s reassurance, Alya nodded and left the classroom hesitantly.

Bracing herself for her punishment, Mme Bustier got a phone call from the main office, looking at Marinette and turning her attention back to the phone. With a few ‘oui’ and ‘be right there,’ Bustier turned to Marinette.

“They need me for a few minutes downstairs, but that doesn’t mean you are free to go. Stay here while I check what they need from me.” Mme Bustier ordered, Marinette burying her face into her hands as she slammed herself into her desk.

She lifted her head once again, sending a quick text to her client about running late. Once that was over, Marinette took out her sketchbook to look over her designs, taking out a red pen to add some additional revisions.

She didn’t know how long she had been like that, but the moment she heard the door open, her head snapped upwards, a frown on her face when she saw Lila and not Mme Bustier.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing much.” Lila said, dragging her fingers on the desk Marinette sat at. “Just this!” She exclaimed, snatching the sketchbook from under Marinette’s hand.

“Give it back!” Marinette screamed, quickly chasing after Lila around the class.

“Oh come one Marinette! I just want to-”

“They’re very important commision designs for a client-” Marinette attempted to reason, almost grabbing it back from Lila.

“Is that so?” Lila hummed, quickly opening the sketchbook and looking at the designs. “Wow. You weren’t kidding!” A grin made its way to her face. “It’d be too bad if something bad happened to it.”

Marinette’s eyes widened and the next thing she knew, she had managed to grab the sketchbook from Lila.

“There’s no way in hell I would let you.” Marinette said in a low voice.

“Oh? Then let’s see you try!” Lila yelled, attempting to grab the sketchbook from Marinette.

The two waltzed away from one another as Marinette kept her sketchbook away from Lila’s grasp. The two were on each other’s toes until Marinette had to run around the classroom, having to knock over Mme Bustier’s chair to keep Lila away from her when she got too close to comfort.

“Come on Marinette! I just want to see-”

“No way in hell Lila!” Marinette screamed, feeling as Lila dug her nails into her shoulder when she ended up cornering her by the windows, Marinette trying her best to not wince at the pain.

The two girls kept clawing at one another until Marinette couldn’t keep Lila at bay anymore, trying to find a way to keep her sketchbook safe from Lila. As Lila kept pushing her, Marinette’s hand hit the window, almost knocking down the metal rod that was used to pull down the shades. That’s when it hit her.

Taking in a deep breath, Marinette kicked Lila away from her, ingraining Lila’s expression of surprise into her memory. As Lila goy up and charged to grab the designer’s sketchbook, Marinette flung it behind her head, silently praying for its safety.

After all, everytime she had tried to lose an item, it never worked. But this time, just this one time, she hoped it would work.

Meanwhile, Lila watched as the sketchbook flew out the window, watching as it fell down to the ground, only to disappear before it hit the grass outside.

Lila stepped back, her eyes darting from the missing book to the panting Marinette who glared at her with daggers for eyes.

“Not this time Lila. Not this time.” The classroom door opened, causing both girls to look at the doorway.

“What is going on here?” Mme Mendeleiev practically shouted, causing Lila to lose all color in her face.

Crap.

—

Tim watched as his English teacher started to walk down the desk aisle, watching as he started to collect their writing assignment assigned yesterday. Seeing as he was drawing near, Tim reached into his bag, when he felt an unfamiliar texture brush against his knuckles. Peering into his bag, he noticed a leather book with a red strap securing it.

Deciding to check it out later, Tim took out his assignment and handed it in, watching as Mr.Hughes simply nodded as he took it, walking down the other row of desks to take the assignment.

As class progressed, his mind drifted to one thing: the book. Tim pondered at how the leather book had gotten into his bag and who it belonged to.

Was it from someone in his class? Was it part of a prank?

He was snapped from his thoughts once the bell rang, signaling everyone that it was lunch.

Tim scurried to the school’s library, heading up to the second floor and turning a right to where his favorite spot welcomed him. A lone desk at the corner, next to a radiator that warmed him in the winter and a wonderful view of the campus as well.

Ever since the death of his mother around a year ago, Tim was able to convince his father to pull him out of boarding school and to transfer him to Gotham Academy. He told him how it was less costly and better yet, closer to home. He agreed.

Making sure that he was comfortable, Tim took out the leather book, his fingers analyzing the bumpy leather texture. Perhaps he would find the owner’s name inside. If not, he will take it to the lost-n-found in the main office. Carefully, Tim took the red strap off the edge of the book, taken aback at the sketches on the paper.

Light feather markings under layers of darker, bolder strokes of graphite looked back at him in the shape of a dress. Side notes in French in a vibrant shade of black ink were meticulously jotted down, red ink being additional notes to the already long list of critiques.

As he turned the pages, Tim saw one dress design after another, designs for hats, caps, shirts and even leather jackets were in there too. Names of fabrics he had never heard of before racked in his mind as Tim kept admiring each sketch. He also couldn’t help but notice the signature on each page. MDC.

MDC.

As he reveled in the initials, trying to make sense of them, he let out a hiss as he retracted his hand from the book, noticing a small bead of blood emerged from his finger...blood?

Tim looked back at the book, noticing that there was a single needle poking out from the sketchbook’s satin bookmark, a silver medallion-

Medallion?

There was no way.

Tim closed in on the medallion and there it was, the initials, MDC. Just like the one he found written on the rose-gold medallion he found years ago.

But why now? Why now after five years of not losing a single thing?

Time had gone by so quickly that Tim literally jumped when the bell rang for the next class, Tim quickly scrambling to gently put back his soulmate’s things into his bag and head for geometry class.

Thanks to the fiasco with Lila, Marientte was held back even more, leading to Marinette having to reschedule her appointment with her client.

Thankfully, the client understood the situation Marinette was just in, even going as far as waiting for Marinette to set the new meeting date. Something about having been there before.

Wrapped in a lavender scented blanket, Marinette stared at her phone screen in front of her that blinked several times before turning black. Then it would turn on again.

On. On. On. On. Off. On…. Off. On... Off...On. On...

Marinette didn’t bother to flip it over either, knowing that the vibration of the incoming calls and unread text messages were going to remind her of the incident with Lila...and how she didn’t have access to her sketchbook anymore.

Her stomach grumbled in annoyance, Marinette only then remembering not having eaten in hours and its been a long time judging form the darken sky outside.

Deciding to actually eat something before she started to feel nauseous from not eating, Marinette was surprised to see a crumpled piece of paper next to the tray of food her mom had brought her. Where did the paper come from?

Opening it up, Marinette felt her heart stop.

I don’t know why, but I have your book…

Thank god she studied a bit of English! Marinette read the next lines.

The designs...are very nice. But guessing from the notes on the last page, you need it back. How exactly do I do that?

That stumped Marinette because to be honest, she didn’t know how. Every time she had tried to before, it never worked. Only this one time where she really needed for the link to work, it worked. But...they managed to easily lose their things…

Grabbing a piece of paper, Marinette wrote back, crumbling it and headed towards her skylight. Opening the hatch a bit, she threw it, going back to her food, hoping it got through.

Tim was minding his own business, listening to NIghtwing give the squad a run down of their latest problem when he eyed a crumpled up paper by his foot. Hoping no one would notice it, he quickly placed it under his foot and waited for the debriefing to finish.

Crouching to get it, it seems like he wasn’t as subtle as he had wished to be as Jaime got to it first.

“What you hiding from us, compa’?” Jaime asked Tim as he uncrumpled the paper. “¿Qué diablos es esto? What is this? Can you even read this?” Jaime pointed at the French written on the paper.

“Yes, I can.” Tim said, huffing when Bart leaned onto his shoulder, peering into the note in Tim’s hands.

“Why am I not surprised?” Jaime said. “Not only are you super smart, but now you’re bilingual too? Let me guess, you're actually multilingual?”

“Actually, he is.” Bart chimed in.

“No manches güey. Seriously?”

“If I remember correctly: Spanish, Cantonese, Russian-”

“And German.” Tim finished, quickly picking up his pace. “Now if you excuse me, I have a few things to do.”

“Hey! At least tell us what it says! Andale, no seas malo.” Jaime pleaded but simply got a wave goodbye for an answer. “Fine! But don’t forget about tomorrow’s mission, eh?”

As Tim left Jaime and Bart behind, he headed to the zeta tubes to head back home, thanking Alfred for the lift home, acknowledging his father as he made his way to his room.

He made a beeline for his bag, taking out the sketchbook, scared to even hold it now that he knew who it belonged to and how much it could potentially be worth.

He laid down the wrinkled paper on his desk, rereading the note.

Just lose it. Try to toss it out the window or something. That’s what I did. It’s how our link works after all.

Tim took a deep breath, both relieved that there was a possible way to return the book and nervous it wouldn’t work.

Taking the sketchbook, he opened up his bedroom window, looked down below and took a deep breath. He took a step back and with one swift move, he tossed the sketchbook out the window, wondering if it made its way safely back to its owner.

After what seemed like an hour, Tim found a crumpled piece of paper on his desk, quickly jogging towards it and opening, feeling a wash of relief flow out of him, Tim let himself smile as he looked at the paper.

It worked! Thank you so much! My name is Marinette...what’s yours?

Months flew by, Marinette now being in her senior year and grinning from ear to ear as she read Tim’s latest text to her, ignoring Alya’s nagging on packing for their trip.

Ever since the sketchbook incident, Marinette found out the reason as to why she was never able to “lose” anything to give to Tim. Or rather the two reasons why the link wasn’t working.

First off, Marinette had been intentionally losing items and always had her eyes on where it would land, which actually cancelled the link. Second, Tim’s fussing over the soulmate link caused it to weaken over time, which further didn't allow Marinette to send him anything over.

Through various days of aggressively sending each other notes, Tim decided to embrace the link while Marinette assured him that she would try to keep her enthusiasm to a low. Keyword: try.

Getting tired from the constant note throwing, Marinette suggested exchanging contact info. It’s how Marinette learned that Tim was very meticulous, and that was coming from his share of contact info. He had an email, phone number, fax number all carefully labeled with even hours in which Marinette was allowed to contact him.

At first Marinette thought he was a stick in the mud, but then Tim had to explain to her about time zones and how he was still in school and afterschool programs most of the week...oops. How did she forget about time zones and school of all things?

Using Marinette’s phone number and email, Tim was easily able to know where exactly Marinette lived, but that’s all he was able to figure out. It wasn’t exactly easy to figure out more about your soulmate when an enthusiastic Dick hovered around you upon knowing about Tim’s soulmate. It got worse when Tim officially moved into Wayne Manor after his father’s death.

But even with Dick hovering like a hummingbird, Tim found texting with Marinette soothing. To have a friend outside of school, out of the Justice League, to have a friend where he could just be Tim...it was...relaxing. Especially when he heard of Lila’s moving due to her mother’s job.

After all, it’s not like he had something to do with it. Absolutely not.

Of course, there were a few times he almost spilled the details, but he was easily able to catch himself, oftentimes redirecting it towards Marinette’s day or her latest commission.

Sometimes they would even video chat, although rarely thanks to time zones. But the few times they did, they would each ingrain each second they spent with each other, as they never knew when they were actually going to meet one day… even if it came closer than what either of them thought.

Tim reread his text for the umpteenth time, his mind still trying to process the message before realizing he hadn’t answered back.

Metropolis? As in, the city where the Man of Steel resides?

She...she was heading to Metropolis? In two days?

Thank Kon for dragging him here!

Marinette: Yup! To think we were able to win Luthor’s scholarship trip! Can you believe it? I can’t wait to see what his program could offer! When I found out that Luthor was holding a scholarship trip for those who would win his Foundation for the Arts’ essay competition, there was no way I was going to let that chance go! Especially when I heard that the trip was extended to the winner’s entire class, regardless of nationality. It would basically be our second senior trip before the first one ^^

Must be very excited then.

You bet I am!

To think...to think he would be able to see her in person… He watched as his happiness wrote for him.

Tim: Wanna hear something that would make the trip more exciting?

What would make this trip even more exciting?

Marinette hummed into the palm of her hand as she watched Tim type.

Tim: I’ll get to see you. Face to face. I’ll be in Metropolis for the next week...what are the odds?

Alya never saw Marinette turn red so quickly, watching as Marinette almost fell off her bed.

“Marinette! Oh my god, Nino! Help! She’s on cloud nine!”

Marinette fanned herself as she bit her lip, fiddling with the green ribbon she had wrapped around her wrist in case she wanted to tie her hair up.

Today was her second day in Metropolis, Marinette now nervous compared to when she first arrived the day before.

After having a tour of Metropolis University, Bustier’s class was able to have the day to themselves and as if on cue, Tim texted her if she was free even though she had already shared her itinerary with him the moment she recovered from her shock those days ago.

So now here she was, standing in Heroes’ Park, wondering if she looked foolish standing in front of Superman’s statue.

Or perhaps because she looked so out of place. Who wears a sunhat nowadays? Oh wait, she did...why exactly? Because freckles.

Marinette looked at her phone, wondering if she got the time wrong. No. She was literally a whole ten minutes early.

So why-

“You scream tourist you know.” A voice said, snapping Marinette from her thoughts. As she turned to see who it was, she felt her heart skip a beat.

He always seemed short, but...now being faced to face…

“Well, sorry for having freckles. The sun-” Marinette pouted, caught by surprised when Tim cupped her face.

“Freckles? I never knew you had them. Then again, you can’t really see them when they’re so small and through a screen at that.”

Marinette listened as her heart threatened to jump from her chest, more so when Tim realized what he was doing. Pink dusted his face. “Sorry, I-”

“I-It’s alright.” Marinette managed to find herself saying, pulling her hat closer to her face. “I...I also wasn’t expecting you to be taller than me.”

That caused Tim to sputter.

“You thought I was-”

“Hey! In my defense, I only had furniture to get some type of knowledge of how tall you were. Seems like I was wrong.” Marinette confessed.

The two stared at each other before laughing, Marinette attempting to reel in her heart with each laugh Tim let out. She didn’t think they would sound so different to what she was used to listening to through the phone.

When the two managed to compose themselves, Tim and Marinette looked at each other again. Marinette dusted off nonexistent dust off her yellow-canary shorts, readjusting her black purse that crossed her red blouse. Tim cleared his throat.

“Well, let’s start this again.” Marinette nodded, a smile on her face.

“Hey. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She comfortably answered back, clasping her hand with the hand Tim offered. “I’m happy to finally meet you, Timothy.” Tim squeezed her hands, noticing how her hand fit perfectly in his.

Perhaps this was where his parents went wrong. Perhaps this is why their relationship didn’t work...lack of communication...lack of appreciation and affection…

But he won’t let them end but like them, not when he knows how much she means to him.

Giving her hand a squeeze, Tim smiled at him.

“As am I, Marinette.”

#maribat #timari #anju writes #MaribatDrabbleExchange

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drasin · 3 years

Text

Day 13 - Jealous

Johnny Cage x Erron Black

Prompts list -> [LINK]

Link to Ao3 if anyone prefers to read there -> [LINK]

Johnny is one of those people who has a rather high opinion of himself. And that's when his partner's ex shows up to take all his insecurities out.

Tags / Warning(s): none

Word Count: 2,050

"Ugh, fuck." Johnny groaned, once again, losing the same level in the mobile game. By now he'd long since gotten sick of playing, but it was the best way to kill time as he stood, waiting for Erron. The day before, the cowboy let him know that he was finishing a job with Kitana. And since he mentioned where he was completing the assignment, Johnny offered to pick him up. At first Black refused, but he quickly managed to convince him. They hadn't seen each other in a long time, so why wouldn't he see him sooner.

So far there was no sign of man. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake and had come to the wrong place. There were several small towns in the area with similar bazaars. Many people from Earth wander here as well as from other Realms. Mostly it functions as a place to trade, meet, and do business of all kinds. But despite it being relatively neutral ground, Johnny preferred to stay on the sidelines and look out for a partner from here.

Finally overcoming a small addiction, he turned off the phone, checking before if the mercenary by any chance texted him. Sadly not. However, it was worth it to send a message on where he stood in any case. Then he put hands in his trouser pockets gazing ahead.

It was quite pleasant here. Calm although the quiet bustle of the town. And when there was nothing to do, he was usually tempted to contemplate. To his misfortune, he had some not-so-positive thoughts lately, which were now deigning to remind him of themselves.

He sighed, leaning his head against the roof of the jeep. "Am I too clingy?" He asked himself aloud. When he thought about it now, maybe Erron didn't want him to come for him at all. In fact, he refused; only agreed when he pushed. What if he agreed out of pity?

Their whole relationship was great, but... is it really a real relationship? For him, yes, of course. He'd taken Black seriously from the start, but it was hard to tell if the cowboy thought the same way. He didn't have a comparison. They had different experiences and worldviews. What could a mercenary who had walked the world three times longer than he possibly think of...

"The hot-blooded Cage." A female voice caught his attention. He raised a head to see Scarlet approaching with slow steps. "Sorry I forgot your name. Maybe you could lift up your shirt and remind me?"

Cage pushed off the car. First instinct was to see if the woman was armed. However, it was a bit naive considering the skills she possessed. In this case he concentrated on keeping an eye on her. He tensed slightly, but hid it efficiently under his usual humor.

"Nah, thanks. I feel like I might get cut on this." He didn't know her intentions, but it was a reasonable assumption that it was nothing good.

The woman stopped at a safe distance. "What's someone like you doing in a place like this?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Funny, I was about to ask the same thing." Honestly, he didn't feel like talking to her, aside from the fact that getting into a discussion wasn't a smart idea. For now, he watched carefully, hoping they would end this quickly.

"Waiting for someone?"

He resisted from twisting his mouth. This definitely didn't bode well. "Now are you going to ask me questions you know the answer to? Am I back in school?" There was a slight smile on his face, even though he didn't like the direction they were going.

Skarlet watched him closely until he felt a shiver. "I don't know what Black sees in you."

Now it stopped being funny. Not that it had been even a little in her company before. But what kind of a comment was that supposed to be? And how did she know that?

"So what's your real deal?" He stopped beat around the bush. Dragging this was leading to longer conversation, and he preferred to get rid of her now.

"Nothing but curiosity." She admitted, but how much of that was true, only she knew. "Rumors spread fast, and this one got me especially. So when I saw you, I couldn't resist.” There was nothing he liked about that situation, including the tone of her voice. It was confident and kind of arrogant. “I know Black pretty well, his type isn't exactly someone of your ilk."

And what was that supposed to mean? He knew well that he wasn't exactly like the people the cowboy had seen before. But the man himself had told him more than once that he liked him just the way he is...

She was brazen to come and hit with something like that, but he guessed that was her goal. She was definitely the type of crazy ex. For good measure, Johnny didn't have much of an option to banish her. Neither got in the car and drove away.

"He likes thrill and danger." She continued. "What does he look for in you then? A decent daddy in charge of law and order."

"So maybe you didn't know him as well as you think." He was careful not to raise his voice. However, it was getting harder.

"I think I got it." She said contentedly. "You must be a really nice rebound for him. Well, at least for now." He would have sworn there was a nasty smile under her mask. "Eventually, he will want to get back to what really interests him." She took a few steps closer, and her tone turned truly mean. "Will you let me know once he's bored of you? Sooner or later it's going to happen. He always has been and will be a promiscuous guy."

Don't let her provoke you. These words kept running through his mind. As much as he wanted to control himself, it was becoming more difficult to do so. He bit the inside of his cheek. She struck him in the sensitive spot. Screw her. Bitch.

"I guess you didn't bring her with you?" From a distance they both heard the cowboy's voice. Johnny immediately calmed down to not look out of balance.

The woman's pretense of innocence came with natural ease. "Long time no see, Black."

"Don't tell me you missed me." He stood next to Cage. "I ain't believe that bulshit. Not from you."

"Always, so cold-blooded. You haven't changed a bit." A short laugh left her lips as she shifted her gaze to the soldier. "You make an interesting pair."

"State your business and do it quickly." Erron seemed a little annoyed.

"I was just passing." Thankfully, she probably realized that there was nothing left for her here. But she made her point. "Bye boys."

Finally she walked away and the mercenary shook his head. "Always some trouble." He opened the back door of the car and threw his bag in there.

Johnny scratched the back of his neck. "How was your business with Kitana?" He asked a little dimly. The vile words spoken by the woman didn't want to leave his head. All week he had been looking forward to seeing the man, but now he wondered if it wasn't naive.

"Lotsa work." He sighed lengthily. "She's more hardworking than her father. Things changed." He slammed the door shut and turned. "You don't even know how much she-- What's with you?" He changed the subject, suddenly, furrowing his brow. He must have noticed something was up. "What did she tell you?"

Right to the point. Sometimes he forgot how perceptive Erron was.

"Nothing significant." He said evasively. "Well… not much anyway. You two worked together?"

"Used to." Black put his hat on the roof of the car and brushed through his hair. "Really old times." Then he took off the mask.

"Oh." Johnny nodded. He pressed his lips in a tight line looking anywhere but at the cowboy. "Were you guys... a thing?"

Erron stopped his hand as he put the hat back on. Cage met his surprised gaze and immediately cursed in his mind.

"Are you... jealous?"

Fuck.

That's not what he intended. He laughed, wanting to turn this into a joke. "And should I be?" How smoothly could he save the situation without giving the signal that he was a walking insecurity?

"About her? Please. Even I regret some of my decisions." He leaned against the vehicle, crossing arms. "I know we often don't see each other for a long time, but I assure you I'm not the type who would cheat." He laughed briefly. " I didn't realize my boyfriend was worried."

"It's not like--" Suddenly it occurred to him what he had just heard. "Wait, you said...boyfriend?"

"Ain't we?" He seemed surprised, as if it were obvious. "What do you call me? A friend with benefits?"

"No, of course not!” He quickly denied “I see you as my boyfriend. That's what I thought from the beginning. I just...um..." He hesitated. Did he phrase it right or did he exaggerate? Why did he say ‘from the beginning’? It reeked of desperation.

"Oh, I see." Black appeared to suddenly have it all figured out. "You think I haven't seen it that way?"

"I..." Cage rubbed his face nervously, but after a moment, he calmed down, and took a deep breath. Maybe the situation wasn't particularly convenient, but he wasn't a teenager anymore to act like this. Even if intense feelings made it a little difficult. So, resting his hand on the top of the car, he looked at his partner, choosing honesty. "I don't know. Never asked."

Black nodded and slowly reduced their distance to face him. "Johnny.” He took a serious tone of voice. “I'm not in the habit of talking about myself to just anyone. I don't fall asleep in the room of someone I don't trust. I don't let pick me up after missions, make stupid jokes, and spend the whole day with me to someone who doesn't mean something to me."

He didn't know what to say. And instead of staying silent, he muttered something stupid. "You didn't want me to pick you up."

Erron grabbed his chin with a light smile. "Because I didn't want to trouble you. Not because I didn't want to see you. You're my boyfriend, I wished to go back three days after I left. And I'm really glad to see you now." Then he leaned in for a long soft kiss.

Johnny put his arm around his neck and enjoyed the moment until one more question popped into his head. With a bit of hesitation he looked at him, stepping back. "And I don't bore you? Cause you know, I'm not like…”

“...like the people I was dating before you?” Black finished for him, hitting the point. "That's right you're not." With these words he pushed him against the car and locked between his arms. "Because I hadn't seriously dated anyone before. It was short term and casual. And remind me how long we've been seeing each other? A year?”

Right, he didn't even realize how quickly time flew. Maybe it's the fact that Black often works in another Realm, but there's no denying they've been together for over a year now.

"You're definitely not like the others." Erron bent his arms at the elbows and leaned into his ear. "Because even now…” Hot breath brushed his skin, and a deep purring voice sent shivers down his spine. "...whenever I think of you, you drive me fucking crazy.” Then the gunslinger pulled back to look him in the eyes. "Does that dispel your doubts?"

Cage bite bottom lip with a goofy grin. "Yeah."

"Great. So if that's cleared up, now I'm just wishing for sleep. I'm hella tired." He walked around the vehicle to take a seat on the passenger side. "I've got enough work for this month, so I'm hoping you don't mind me staying with you for the next two weeks?"

Johnny laughed as the whole weight fell off his shoulders. "Not at all." He grabbed the sunglasses slung over his sweater and put them on, getting behind the wheel. "Let's hit the road!"

#blacage #erron black #johnny cage #fictober 2021 #mortal kombat 11 #mk 11 #ao3 #fanfic #jealous #erron black x johnny cage #fictober

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zaharadessert · 3 years

Text

The Roommate (6/11)

Summary: Two pacts between friends, one Wedding, a change of plans and a Best Man who is not what Emma was expecting.

In other words, what happens when you make a marriage pact with your roommate, and he falls in love with your best friend when she brings over the wedding dress you bought together nearly ten years ago.

Rating: Mature (things do get saucy)

Notes: Huge huge thank you to @motherkatereloyshipper for the prompt for this fic. We ended up with a more cake situation, and this is the link to her fic… Another thank you to @ultraluckycatnd for being my beta once again, you do such an amazing job and I am forever grateful! Without you my commas would be so all over the place it isn't even funny! All art by me! I tried to keep it fluffy but I'm unable to contain the angst... sorry? As you may have guessed from the art... Killian is finally here! Sorry for keeping you waiting so long, I didn't realise until I started posting! hahaha ENJOY!

Tagging: @jrob64 @xhookswenchx @kmomof4 @wefoundloveunderthelight @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @jonesfandomfanatic @tiganasummertree @onceratheart18 @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @itsfabianadocarmo @ouatpost @winterbaby89 @thepirateandhisson @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @captainswan21

As always, let me know if you’d like me to add you to my taglist for future fics :)

Also on AO3

- - - - -

Emma happened to have the day off on the day that Killian was supposed to arrive; she’d cancelled most of the holiday she’d booked for the wedding, reducing it to a couple of days off either side, but Liam had also taken the day off work to go and pick up his best man. So, despite Emma offering to go with him, he declined and Emma and Elsa were left with Elsa’s final dress fitting and finishing off the wedding favours.

The dress looked incredible.

The style adjustments they’d both agreed on to turn the vintage bodice with puff sleeves into an off the shoulder look that would suit both of them were more than worth the time it had taken Elsa to get it right. Emma’s latest thrift store purchase looked stunning on her and as they looked at each other in the mirror with smiles on their faces, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

By the time Liam arrived with Killian, the wedding favours were almost finished and their outfits were safely hidden in Emma’s closet out of the way of Liam’s accidentally prying eyes. The two men walked in and Emma could immediately see the similarities between them. The broad shoulders, the blue eyes, the shape of their faces, but everything else was a little different.

“Emma, Elsa, this is my brother, Killian,” Liam said with a smile.

Killian Jones was a little shorter than his brother, his hair darker and his eyes had an almost haunted look in them. Honestly, he wasn’t what she was expecting from the brother Liam had told her so much about. But as she looked at him, she felt something stirring in her gut. She swallowed and barely stopped herself licking her lips as she took in the almost half buttoned shirt and obvious show of dark chest hair. Emma hadn’t been instantly attracted to a man like this in years. Sure she’d had one night stands and stuff before she and Liam happened to make their pact but… nothing like this. Emma hadn’t been immediately assaulted by images of a dark head between her thighs and the thought of what the scruff on his chin might feel like against her skin.

For a moment his gaze flicked between her and Elsa and his forehead creased slightly in a frown.

“Sorry, which one is the ex and which one is the fiancée?” Killian asked, looking back at Liam. Emma’s eyebrows shot up in surprise; Liam had led her to believe that Killian was over his hang-ups about the wedding. Was he joking that he couldn’t remember which of them was which, or was he deliberately being an arse? She hoped it was the former, or that he was at least genuinely confused. It was no secret that the pair of blondes looked quite similar, but maybe he’d missed the gestures Liam had made to indicate which name belonged to which of them.

“I’m Emma, the ex… It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said pointedly, holding her hand out to shake his.

“Aye, well… I’m here now…” he responded cagily, taking her hand and lifting it to press a kiss to her knuckles.

Emma laughed and pulled her hand back.

“Okay, you two having the same moves is kinda creepy…” Emma protested, shaking her head.

“I assure you, love, they were my moves first.”

“I thought you were the younger one?” she quipped, and Killian shot her a wink before turning on his brother.

“See, she knows the difference, why can’t you remember?” Again, Emma couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“So, um, I was about to get started on dinner. Liam, it’s your turn to do some wedding favours,” Emma said with a smile and started to move towards the kitchen.

“Actually, I think I’m going to head to the hotel,” Killian said firmly. “It’s been a long flight and I really could do with a shower and…”

“You can use ours if you want to freshen up…” Emma said brightly, smiling, doing her best to make the brother she didn’t think a lot of, but was apparently extremely attracted to, feel welcome. Only now her head was flooded with images of him in her shower, especially when he raised an eyebrow and made no attempt to hide the way his tongue swept across the inside of his bottom lip as he looked her up and down. She found herself blushing and her gaze dropped.

“Thanks for the offer, love, but I think I’d best get out of everyone’s hair,” he said firmly, though the mischief in his eyes suggested that he wouldn’t object to using her shower if he was going to have company.

“Oh, come on, little brother, at least stay and get to…”

“Younger brother,” Killian growled. “I’m tired, my brain thinks it’s gone midnight and I was up at six this morning.”

“Alright, I’ll put my shoes back on.”

“I’ll get a taxi. No honestly, Liam, it’s fine…” Killian snapped.

Emma sensed that he was done feeling coddled after so long not having his older brother hanging over his shoulder, with his opinions constantly available. Everyone was holding their breath as Killian and Liam glared at each other across the lounge.

“Where are you staying?” Elsa asked, trying to break the tension.

“The hotel where you’re getting married, actually. Figured I’d make it easy not to miss it,” he said with an attempt at levity. It failed. “Right,” he said, realising he’d just made things more awkward. “I’ll get going then.”

Liam let his brother walk past him, and Emma heard the sounds of a suitcase handle and wheels in the hallway. When the door shut behind him, Elsa moved quickly to wrap her arms around Liam’s shoulders, and Emma ducked into the kitchen.

Fuck.

Wanting her ex’s brother was a huge mistake, one that she would never be able to get away from if she acted on it.

She couldn’t do that to herself or to Liam.

She wouldn’t.

She was going to be polite and civil and do her best to make Killian feel included in the final preparations for the wedding.

But Killian, apparently, didn’t want to know. Everything she tried to invite him to, he declined. He refused to eat dinner with them, go for a drink with them. After two days of rejected olive branches, Emma was done playing nice.

Elsa and Liam tried to stop her going, but Emma said that this was the kind of thing she’d signed up for when she’d agreed to be their Maid of Honor and the fact that it was the Best Man’s arse she was kicking didn’t make a difference.

By this point, she knew his room number because a lot of their guests were staying in the hotel and as such, she’d been given a list in case there were any issues. So she didn’t even pause in the hotel lobby as she made her way over to the elevator and up to his floor. The whole ride up, her fingers were drumming agitatedly against her arm as she ran through what she wanted to say to the younger Jones. Because she was pissed, she was fed up with his assumptions and his attitude.

She hammered her fist on his door and took half a step back, waiting.

It took a minute, but eventually the door opened and Killian Jones, with bare feet and tight back jeans and a barely buttoned blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes, leaned against the doorframe with a lazy smile.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Emma the ex?” he asked, looking her up and down. Emma could smell the alcohol on his breath; no wonder his hair looked like a mess.

“Alright buddy, that’s it,” she said firmly, her features twisting into a scowl. “I have had it with your attitude. We have done everything we can to try and make you feel welcome and like we want you here, but if you can’t even make an effort to be involved in your own brother’s wedding, then you can go fuck yourself,” she growled.

“Why would I do that when I can fuck someone else?” he deflected with a lilt to one of his eyebrows and his tongue pressing at the corner of his mouth, making it very obvious what he was suggesting.

“What the hell is your problem, shouldn’t you be happy for him? I know some bitch screwed you over but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on your brother and the person who is capable of making him happy!” Emma snapped. She knew he’d been drinking and that would only make him more obnoxious without even really meaning it, but how dare he threaten his brother’s happiness like this?

“What the fuck do you know about it?” Killian snarled, his smile gone as he straightened up.

Emma had to admit that his full height and the way his eyes darkened as he looked down at her made her toes curl, but she pushed it aside and glared up at him. Okay, so maybe she’d crossed a line bringing that up but he’d skipped over it, practically singing as far as she was concerned, so she was not to be deterred as she told him what she thought of him.

“Liam and I have been friends for years. He was heartbroken that you’d been lying to him. Of course I was the one who convinced him to call you back because I know how hard it is to feel like a failure in front of people who love you and keep telling you how proud they are of you. I know what it’s like to not be enough for someone and it sucks! But you’re so self absorbed you can’t even find it in yourself to be happy for your own brother, who happens to be one of the best friends I’ve ever…”

“Ah, so you aren’t as okay with handing over your wedding and fiancé to your best friend as you’re insisting, hmm?” His voice was low, dark, and again Emma had to fight the stirring in her gut and the warmth in her core. He leaned into her space with a raised eyebrow and his eyes searching her face, taking in her expression.

Emma narrowed her eyes, thoroughly fed up with his assumptions. Her chest heaved as she drew in a breath to tell him what she thought of him and his eyes dropped to her cleavage for a moment.

“I wasn’t talking about Liam, actually.” His eyes flicked back up to her face, his eyebrow raised now in surprise. “But frankly that’s none of your goddamn business. How I feel about this wedding is no one’s business but mine; they are happy and I’m happy for them!”

Emma was breathing heavily now, her eyes ablaze with anger as he looked at her. He seemed to be considering his next words. Emma watched as his lips quirked, forming a devious smirk, and he leaned into her space.

“Bull. Shit,” he whispered in her ear, his tongue popping against the roof of his mouth on the t, pulling back with a smug smile on his lips.

Emma was furious, but the way his breath had ghosted over her neck and shoulder had set her skin on fire. She needed to shut him up, but it seemed he had an answer for everything she said, a smug and stupid and obnoxious answer. Suddenly, in a fit of what could only be described as madness, Emma’s hands moved, closing around the plackets of his shirt and pulling him into her as she surged forward, planting her lips firmly over his.

For a moment he seemed so surprised he didn’t react, but then he made a soft grunt in the back of his throat and his hand came up to tangle in her hair. She pulled back to change the angle of the kiss and his other arm snaked around her waist to pull her closer as she adjusted her grip on his shirt to stop him going anywhere. She hummed against his lips and his fingers tightened in her hair. He pressed her back into the doorframe and she gasped. He took full advantage and swept his tongue into her mouth with a groan as his entire body pressed against hers.

Emma both wanted to push him away and pull him closer, and as she wrenched her lips from his, their heavy breathing mingling in the small amount of space between them, she knew she had to walk away. Because this was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. No drunken night compared to how she felt right now, and with everything else going on she couldn’t risk it.

Neither of them moved, stunned into silence and inaction as they revelled in the moment.

“That was…” Killian murmured, and even at that low volume his voice sounded heady and wrecked and Emma had to turn her head away to stop herself shutting him up in the same way again.

“A one time thing,” her voice was gravelly and she swallowed thickly as she slipped out from between him and the door frame.

She watched as he swallowed and nodded resolutely.

“Let’s not tell your brother about this, okay?” she suggested, still breathing heavily as she retreated a couple of steps.

“As you wish,” he replied, his voice quieter, softer now than through their argument.

“You will come to dinner tomorrow, and you will be cordial,” she told him firmly.

He looked a little surprised by the command, but he nodded again, straightening up from where he’d been leaning into the doorframe.

“Aye, love, I’ll be there,” he agreed.

With a final deep breath, Emma nodded and turned away, walking back down the corridor and away from Killian’s room. She could feel his eyes on her as she stared resolutely ahead while she waited for the elevator, only hearing his door shut as she stepped out of sight.

#cs ff #Captain Swan #ZaharaDessert Writes #The Roommate #more cake #apparently I art too #chapter six

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abreathofthewild · 3 years

Text

I Need A Hero, Chapter 1/?

Summary: After Y/N finds out that her late grandfather has willed his rural Montana ranch to her, she decides it’s time for a little change of scenery. At least until it’s in a condition to sell. Along the way, Y/N finds a renewed appreciation for hard work, new friends, and possibly even love. She has the land. Can Thor help make it a home?

Word Count: 11559 (I have no idea either, trust me)

Warnings: non-main character death, mentions of alcohol, some thematic elements, eventual smut.

A/N: I have so many people I could tag on this post, so many. For now, I'll just say thank you to @spacelabrathor for allowing me to use this idea and to @itssimplydior for going above and beyond in helping me grammar check and just being a great hype person. Thank you thank you thank you! And thank you to everyone who has waited so long for this. I have an amazing circle of friends on here. I hope this first chapter was worth the wait!

Edit: The banner is by the amazing @frankiemorales who designed this moodboard because she loves the story so much ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Links: Thor Odinson Masterlist and AO3 Version

Skyscrapers cut through the blue sky like ancient monoliths; they weren’t ancient at all but the way the sun glinted off the glass and steel of their structures made them look like modern interpretations of old gods. Car horns and shouts and ongoing conversations hummed through the air, the constant buzz of life an undercurrent that was all at once hard to ignore and easy to be lost in. There in the middle of it, beneath the heartbeat of the city, you sat in an office chair trying to clear your head around a different type of ringing in your ears.

Your grandfather had passed away. Your estranged grandfather. And yet here you were, listening to his attorney tell you that he had willed you his ranch. The ranch you had spent almost six summers at as a child. The ranch where you had learned to ride a horse. The ranch where you had learned how to skip rocks and climb trees. The ranch where you had decided that one day you’d have a big ranch of your own, “just like Grandpa”.

“Miss? Miss, are you still there?” A breath rattled from your lungs as you tried to form a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry, I can imagine this is difficult but were you able to hear me on the line? Hank has passed away and he’s left you his ranch. We’ll need you to come sign some paperwork. There are some stipulations that I’d rather discuss in person. Then you’re free to get the details settled to sell it if that’s what you want.” Another pause.

“Um, yes, I’m sorry. I heard you. Can you email the initial documents?” The barely-managed response felt odd on your tongue, stiff.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure we can manage that. I’ll have to apologize, things move a little slower around here so sometimes it slips my mind that electronic signatures are an option now. Like I said though, the final details will need to be worked out here, in Dove’s Reach.” After that, you tuned out; the man’s voice on the line seemed to drone on. Your brain honed in on “it’s not really in a state to sell” and “I’ll put you in touch with a licensed appraiser just to make sure”. Then the call ended and you realized somewhere in there you must have hung up the phone but you honestly couldn’t remember.

A ranch. A whole ranch. 500 acres of rolling hills in Montana. Your breath caught and you quickly brushed away the tears that had welled in your eyes, pursing your lips and glancing at the paperwork spread in front of you. There was so much work to do here with the Harrison case. Your eyes roved from the physical documents to the spreadsheets on your computer screen and back again. It would be foolish to take time off now when you were so close to finishing it up. You could see your father’s frown as if he was standing in front of you.

And yet… Your grandfather hadn’t been a part of your life for so long. In the beginning, when your parents had told you abruptly that Grandpa had done something bad, been mean to them, you took it hard. Seven years old is a horrible time to lose a grandfather who taught you how to milk a cow and showed you the wonder in the small things. But as you got older and your parents became more embroiled in work, more distant, you put it to the back of your mind. You were still young enough that you had no choice but to take their word for it. The thoughts tripped around your head like a broken record; you felt a little queasy. You wiped brusquely once more at a stray tear and, taking a deep breath, turned to your monitor. You minimized one tab and opened another, preparing to write an email. It was a little more difficult than you had anticipated though and ten minutes later when your assistant walked in reminding you of your 2 o’ clock, you startled from a blank daydream and an even blanker screen. Your surroundings rushed back in around you on a pinpoint vortex and all at once, you knew you had to go. Regardless of parts of the will needing to be handled in person, something split in your heart. Right now, your place was at the ranch.

“Reschedule that appointment please. Let Clark know we’ll be switching it over to a Zoom call. Actually, cancel the rest of my appointments for the next two weeks. I’ll let you know if I need you to move anything around after that.” She widened her eyes but nodded all the same, turning and exiting your corner office with purpose. You began typing out the email to your father letting him know that you’d be taking advantage of all those vacation hours you had stored away for a rainy day. You would take the Harrison case with you and could easily finish it remotely. It would be on his desk by the deadline. Your rainy day was today but despite the circumstance, you were beginning to catch the feeling that there wasn’t a cloud in sight. The ranch house flashed across your mind’s eye and you blew out a breath from your lungs you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

You clicked send and stood, throwing on your coat and gathering the necessary paperwork from your desk. You let your assistant know you were leaving and walked out the door, not bothering to pay attention to a few pairs of wandering eyes who watched as you entered the elevator and headed down to the ground floor. With each minute of descent through the high-rise building, you felt your heart beat faster. It felt like there was a balloon in your chest waiting to burst. Your heels clicked on the marble floor and as you pushed through the doors into the spring air of New York City, you felt just a little more alive than you had moments before.

The redeye flight and extra two-hour drive put you in Dove’s Reach before the sun had completely risen. Last week if someone had told you that you would be standing here right now looking at your grandfather’s ranch house with the notion that you could fix it up, you would have laughed in their face. But as the sun rose in the east, it felt as if anything was possible. To the north was a range of mountains that could have looked menacing, but from your vantage only served to leave you in awe. The immediate land was just miles and miles of green fields that met with forest. The trees were behemoths; the sun bathed everything in a rich golden light adding unbelievable depth to the scene before you. The air smelled clean and fresh and alive.

You resisted the urge to pinch yourself because if this was a dream you never wanted to wake up. There was your grandfather’s house right in the middle of all of it. It still held the country charm that you remembered but there was so much that was… off. From what you could see with the naked eye, the wooden fence was sagging and falling over in a lot of places. The barn was missing slats of wood and one door hung precariously on its hinges. The house was a relic, the paint dry and peeling. You knew your grandfather as a strong, stout man who even in his older age was capable of running a whole ranch. The state of things now left a hollow feeling in your stomach and left so many questions unanswered.

A suitcase, carry-on, and laptop bag was all you had with you as you took the key from under the mat and opened the front door. It groaned loudly as if it hadn’t been opened in a long while but it made you smile to know that your grandfather had left the key in the same place after all these years. You walked to your left into the kitchen and set your keys on the counter. The familiarity of it all suddenly made you pause with a sudden sense of Deja Vu. The magnets on the fridge, the little table with four wooden chairs, and an old fashioned clock hanging on the wall that had faded from a once dark blue. The checkered yellow and white curtains were rolled up above the farm-style sink and an old mason jar with some dried flowers sat in the sill.

You found yourself choking up as you realized your grandfather’s coffee mug, the big one with some western painting of a bucking bronco, sat ready next to the coffee pot. You walked over to it and cradled it in your hands as the feeling washed through your bones that it was your mug now. There was so much you remembered about him and yet so much you never got to know, never would know. It nagged at you as the realization began to set in that there was so much to get done to sell this place. And after it was gone, there would be nothing of your grandfather left. A shaky sigh escaped from your lips.

Sleep. Right now you just needed to sleep. You made your way upstairs, the wood groaning in protest as you went, and headed to the right where one of the two guest rooms were located. Again, it was like a museum, in a state of preservation. With a wrenching in your stomach, you wondered if he’d ever had visitors after you. The bed sat against the opposite wall under the window and the sunlight filtering in passed the tree outside left dappled patterns on the patchwork quilt. You brushed your fingertips across it and marveled at how soft it still felt.

The room smelled faintly of dust so you cracked the window. You were rewarded by the cool breeze laced with the scent of pine wafting gently into the room. It was the beginning of spring but mornings were still chilled with the end of winter. You were pretty sure that in the shade of various trees on your way in there were small drifts of unmelted snow and the dried grass in the fields outside had sparkled with frost. You flopped down on the bed, covering yourself with the knitted throw that was tossed across the bottom.

As your eyes fluttered shut, you had a distinct feeling that you had always lived here. The thought crossed your mind as you edged into sleep that maybe you should stay.

It was well past noon when you startled awake. This time, it felt like there was a weight on your chest. You cracked your eyes and let out a small ah when you were greeted by a plump silver and white cat with green eyes sitting on your stomach. It chirruped when it realized you were awake. The cat hadn’t been in the house when you arrived (that you had seen). Maybe it climbed the tree and hopped in the window. Either way, it had been a long time since you’d last had a pet (your long hours didn’t allow for it back in New York) and your heart did a light skip as you scratched behind its ears. Its purr sounded like a motorboat.

The breeze coming through the window was a little warmer now and after a while of trying to stay lost to the world outside, you knew if you didn’t get up right then, you wouldn’t feel motivated to do so for the rest of the day. And there was a lot to do. With an exaggerated grunt, you deposited the cat on the other side of the bed. It sat there licking a paw and periodically giving you an irked look. You let out a small snort and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the desk and began writing down your goals for the day.

The main one was a basic grocery list (you were pretty sure there was nothing in the fridge or cupboards), and now getting some cat food. If you remembered correctly, the actual town was about another half hour from the ranch in the opposite direction you’d come. You stood and winced as pins and needles prickled up and down your legs from sitting cross-legged on the bed. You glanced at your computer bag tucked in next to the desk on the floor. The Harrison case would have to wait.

Main Street hadn’t really changed much from what you could remember of your time here. A lot of red brick and dark wood. It was quaint and about as small-town as you could get. Something lurched in your chest when you pulled to a stop in the grocery parking lot. Everything was so foreign to how you lived in the big city but at the same time… it sang of a home you had not experienced before. Part of you thought it was a shame that you had to go back in two weeks. You brushed the thought aside as quickly as you allowed yourself to feel it. There was no use indulging that line of thinking and besides, it was the first day. You were sure you would feel differently at the end of that time after you’d put in the work that would be required.

The grocery store was bigger than you remembered; you were pretty sure it had been expanded. Maybe the town wasn’t as little as it used to be. A cartful of basics and what felt like 500 mental notes later, you brought your groceries to the front. You daydreamed for a moment as the steady beep of the register sounded in the background.

“You’re not from around these parts, are you darlin’?” You came back to yourself, shaking your head. The woman ringing you up was older, with short-cropped white hair and glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her name tag read “Rose''. “I thought so. We don’t get many people around here that buy tofu. Is it any good?” She wrinkled her nose in such a way that made you giggle. You shrugged your shoulders.

“There’re a few different ways I make it that taste pretty good. I’m not vegetarian or anything, I just like all sorts of foods.” She brightened at that; you guessed there were also not very many vegetarians in Dove’s Reach either. “I’m actually here to handle my grandpa’s estate. He just passed away…” You trailed off, surprised by the lump that was suddenly in your throat. Her eyes widened just a bit before she reached out to pat your hand.

“Do you mean Hank? Was Hank your granddaddy? Yes, he must be, I can see you have the same eyes now. Well, I’m so very sorry, hon. He was a good man. It seems like only yesterday he was here picking up groceries.” There was a tear in her eye now and it made you wonder how close the two were. “It had actually been quite some time since he was able to make it in here on his own. Months at least.” Months? So he had been sick for a while. Why hadn’t he told you? Rose saw the look flash across your face. “Oh,” she breathed out quietly, “you didn’t know, did you?” She clucked her tongue as you paid. “That Hank, always thinkin’ he didn’t need help. We were all surprised when he finally had Jonesy coming ‘round to do things in town for him. Jonesy was his attorney, you’ll probably be speaking to him soon, I’d reckon. Well, if you need anything, you just let me know, okay?”

You grabbed your bags and put them back in your cart. There would be time to ask Rose questions about your Grandpa later, you hoped. But right now, you needed to focus on getting help with the ranch.

“Well actually, Rose, I’m looking for some help to fix the ranch up. Do you know anyone off the top of your head?”

Rose had told you to go across the street to On The Wings of A Dove, the local hang out after a day’s work had been finished for a lot of folks. It was surprisingly modern with an old feel. Deep red brick, exposed black pipe, and low lighting. The smell as you walked in the doors made your mouth water. Luckily the owner, Gus, was in and was more than happy to help a young lady such as yourself.

“Thor! This lady here needs some help fixin’ up her ranch to sell. You lookin’ for work?” You glanced in the direction the portly man was facing, down the bench, and around a couple of other patrons. A man leaned out and smiled in your way; the flash of white teeth made your heartbeat stutter.

“As a matter of fact, Gus, I just finished up at the Finch’s farm helpin’ them with that young colt.” He stood and walked over to you. If he looked big from a distance, there was no denying it now as he moved into your space. You looked up at his face and the golden hair framing blue eyes was enough to make your brain go foggy. He held out a hand, the chorded muscle across his chest and in his broad shoulders evident even with such a small movement. You took it and something bloomed in your chest when his hand enveloped yours. His skin was rough with calluses. It was warm and a vision flashed across your mind unbidden: those hands grasping at your face, roving down your arms, across your chest, gripping your hips, and moving lower… You shook your head and tried to listen to the words coming out of his mouth.

“The name’s Thor. Thor Odinson. How may I be of service, pretty lady?” Normally, someone being so forward would irk you. But somehow hearing Thor say the words “pretty lady” in a slow drawl didn’t bother you in the least. You offered him a smile back, quirking your head to the side. Taking inventory. He couldn’t be much older than you if he was older at all.

“Thor Odinson? That’s an interesting name.” He nodded, ducking his head and running a hand through his hair. It looked ridiculously soft to the touch and you had to stop yourself from snorting in good-natured annoyance.

“Yes, ma’am. My family comes from the Old Country. They wanted a strong name for a strong man. Gus said you’re lookin’ for help though?” He crossed his arms and leaned in, the white t-shirt he was wearing stretching across his chest. You forced your eyes to move back to his face where you were met with a little crook of his lips. You were pretty sure he saw that but there was no embarrassment in the knowledge. “I can help you do just about anything. Pick your poison.”

It was a lot. And you were certain there was more than you even realized with your knowledge of how to run a ranch being zero. You listed off how the house needed a good cleaning but you could take care of that. It probably needed a new coat of paint inside and out. Several of the shudders on both stories needed repairing. The barn looked pretty run down but you hadn’t gotten up close to it yet. One of the doors had definitely been hanging crookedly on its hinges. Then there was the fence… You could probably use more than two people for that. You had no idea of what state the ranch hand cabin was in. You looked up at him and gave him a shrug. His eyebrows were up near his hairline as he leaned back and whistled.

“Boy, we’ve really got our work cut out for us, don’t we? Well, I think we’d better start with those things you mentioned first. Trust me, if there’re other problems we’ll find ‘em real quick. Might cost ya a pretty penny. Are we tryin’ to stay within a certain budget?” He looked you right in the eye and Lord help you, it had been a long time since someone looked you in the eye with any sort of sincerity. You were used to working with less-than-savory types in your corporate world. You cleared your throat and shrugged again.

“Not really. If we fix it up good enough, there won’t be a loss. It’s a pretty place. Just needs some TLC. And the land is worth its 500 acres in gold.” The silence was palpable but not in an uncomfortable way. Thor leaned in and you caught a slip of his scent. Sweat and leather and woodsmoke. You took a deep breath, pulling the smell with it. You realized he was listening. He wasn’t just hearing your words, he was taking them in and mulling them around in his brain. “But wait. Does that mean you’ll do it? We haven’t even talked about wages or anything like that.” He waved a hand in dismissal, rolling his eyes.

“We can talk about that later. What matters is you need help and we like to help people ‘round here. Maybe that’s not somethin’ you’re used to where you’re from? It’s all right though. I’ll introduce ya to small-town hospitality. When are you wanting to get started?” You threw him a sheepish grin before glancing down at the floor as if the pattern there was the most interesting thing in the world. If your parents could see you now, you knew they’d be appalled. Thinking of doing the work yourself, of hiring someone you literally just met and someone who was only suggested to you by a cashier at a grocery store. It was a little ridiculous you admitted but you brushed the thoughts away.

“Tomorrow? You can stay in one of the guest rooms in the house. There’s a ranch hand cabin but I have no idea what it looks like. As far as I can tell, it hasn’t been a working ranch in a while so there’s really no telling what state it will be in…” Again, he held his hand up slowly, politely putting a stop to the words pouring from your mouth.

“The cabin is just fine. I don’t need much anyway. Depending on how long I’m there, the only thing I ask is to bring my dog, Tucker, with me. He’s as good a help as any man I’ve met and twice as friendly.” You nodded enthusiastically. “Well, all right then. Sounds like everything is as settled as it gets for now. Can I get the address from ya? I’ll head over around 5 PM, get settled in if that suits your plans for the rest of the day.

“Perfect.” You smiled as he shook your hand again.

It occured to you that this is the first contract you’d ever made without a signature on paper and yet somehow, it felt like the most foolproof one as well.

It didn’t take long for Thor to settle in. He had insisted on taking the ranch hand cabin despite your protesting. When the two of you looked it over, it wasn’t as bad as you would have guessed it to be, even though there was a thin layer of dust on every surface. You searched through some of the cupboards and luckily came up with a spare sheet set. You took the old one to wash, holding your breath against all the dust motes that flew into the air as soon as you took the sheets off.

“Tucker didn’t want to come?” You asked with a teasing tone,one that Thor responded to with a laugh. He took his baseball cap off and roughed his fingers through his hair. He shook his head.

“No, ma’am. We’ll see how things go here but guessing by the fence line I saw on my way in, he’ll definitely be coming to stay here with me. Don’t worry, either way you’ll get to meet him. He’ll be tickled pink.” Again, a duck of his head that made you wonder how someone could have such good manners. You looked down, shuffling your feet. That seemed to be a regular thing for you now as well. Not being able to look someone in the eye? Not a good look on a big time lawyer. But you had an excuse, right? You glanced up through your eyelashes as he turned away and looked around.

He stood tall, straight-backed. You absently wondered if it was from riding horses. He probably looked great on a horse. He was no longer in just the white shirt from earlier but his Carhartt jacket didn’t swallow him, it just somehow emphasized how big he was. Every movement brought that into sharp focus. The floor creaked beneath his boots as he flipped switches on and off, watching with concentration as each lightbulb somehow still worked. They took a few moments to crackle on but crackle on they did. And with each one his smile somehow got bigger. After a little while of inspecting the little space he turned to you again.

“This will do just fine. No worries need be wasted on my behalf. Tomorrow I’m thinking we should head down to Redwood Hardware and see if we can get an order in for some fence posts. They might have some in stock already but the amount we’ll need is probably not gonna be in store. You might also wanna consider hiring other help besides me. I stand by my work ethic but we’ll get the job done a lot faster with more people.” You blew a breath out of your mouth and pursed your lips. He was closer in an instant, placing his hand on your shoulder. He lowered his head to make sure you would meet his gaze. It threatened to take your breath away. “I know it might not seem like it right now, but we’ll have this place up and running, sale-worthy in no time. A place your granddaddy would be proud of.”

You did meet his eyes then, glancing back and forth between them. You nodded. If anyone was going to tell you how a thing was going to go and you would believe them… It was going to be Thor.

The day came when it was time to actually set up the new fence posts instead of just staring at them with a certain bit of dread each day when you went outside. The sky was a blue that seemed to go on forever and the air itself smelled alive but still, you stood, hands on your hips, ticking off all the other things you could be doing. There were loads of things. But Thor stood next to you, a smirk on his face and you knew there was no way you could put off starting this any longer. He placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

“It’ll be alright darlin’! It’s a lot of work, hard work, but you’ll get the hang of it. I’ll be right there every step of the way to help ya out.” Again, the uncanny wave of reassurance swept over you at his words and so it was you found yourself climbing into the passenger side of his old Ford and marveling at what pristine condition it was in. The last couple of days you’d been driving your rental car; there was an old Jeep in the barn but it needed more repairs than you could focus on at the moment. You’d seen his truck the day he drove up to the house and the days after but you hadn’t seen the interior and you were impressed.

You didn’t know many hyper-specific details about any vehicle but you guessed this one was old and yet… the seats were a rich brown leather, worn in certain places from use but not split. It even had a sheen to it still, as if he wiped it down on a regular basis. There was one little piece of plastic up near the passenger air vent that was slightly cracked but the rest of it still shone as close to new as it would ever get again. A reddish brown darker than the seats but just as fine. Nothing had been replaced or updated it seemed, just kept in the same condition it always had been. But looking around, you knew it had been used. It had worked many long years. You quirked your mouth and glanced at him as he shifted the truck into gear and drove through the gate, driving along the rutted pathway that ran along the length of fencing. The field stretched out for miles and miles beyond you in gentle sloping green hills. There were some wildflowers starting to sprout up but from what you understood, it was nowhere close to peak season yet. The fence closer to the buildings was in better condition; the farther away from there you got, the more obvious it became that the ranch had been non-operational for some time. As it was apt to do regularly now, your mind wandered. You were lost in two vast landscapes, one physical, the other in your memories. It took Thor slowing and then parking at the point where the fence literally ceased to exist to bring you out of yourself.

The two of you hopped out and started grabbing supplies. After figuring out how much you wanted to get done for the day, the two of you started in on the fence posts. Or more like Thor jumped right in and you took a split second to watch him as he began working. Almost immediately he shrugged off his flannel; he was in a simple white tank top and those ridiculously well-fitted Wrangler jeans and boots. Even the gloves on his hands looked slightly tight as if his hands were too big even for the large size. His motions were smooth and concise; he turned away from you, leaving his back on full display. You leaned on your post hole digger for a minute, taking in the way all the parts of his body worked together. From the muscles in his arms, the ones chord across his shoulders and back, all the way down to how his hips swayed with the movement.

An eagle cried out overhead and you moved in about ten feet away from him. You wanted to think that you knew how to do this right away just from watching him. The soil was no problem. It was soft and dark and easy to dig. The smell curled through the air and reminded you of being a kid, when the most you had to worry about was if the dirt was the right consistency for a mud pie. But after a few tries, you realized you must be doing something wrong because your hands kept slipping and Thor had already moved past you to dig and place two more wooden posts. Still, you don’t say anything just yet. You were determined to do this.

As the day waned on, slow as molasses, you could feel him watching you. He didn’t move in to stop you, didn’t tell you you were doing it wrong. He let you struggle. There was a war inside of you at that moment, part of you wanting him to jump in and show you how and the other part being refreshed by him letting you figure it out. That inner monologue went on for a while before he nudged you and handed you a bottle of water. You stopped, relieved. The sun was somehow high overhead now. For every one post you were finishing with difficulty, Thor was getting two done. Frustration flared over your whole body. He cleared his throat and raked his hand through his hair.

“I noticed it looked like you were havin’ a bit of a hard time diggin’ the post holes. Would ya like if I gave ya some pointers?” You watched him, the earnestness in his blue eyes, and nodded. A smile lit up his face and you wondered how many people got to see it. It was bright and put the endless Montana sky to shame. “Perfect. Let’s eat lunch now and then I’ll show ya a thing or two.” You munched on the turkey sandwiches you had thrown together, sitting on the ground in front of the truck where there was still some shade. The ground was cool beneath you, the air around you smelt like something that should be written about in a book; the earthy smell of grass , the distant hints of pine, the promise of wildflowers. Thor was sprawled out next to you but not in an overbearing sort of way. He just took up a lot of space. You tried not to concentrate on the fact that your knees were touching.

“So your granddaddy left you all this? I’d be pressed to sell it. It’s too bad ya can’t keep it.” You stiffened before catching yourself quickly, though you were pretty sure he had noticed He took his last bite before standing up. “You’ve got a life back home though. It’d be hard to leave that behind.” He held out his hand and you accepted it, wanting to push that cagey feeling behind you. He looked off in the distance, hands on hips, then back to you. “Well, ya ready for those tips?”

“Yes, sir.” You brushed dirt off your backside and put your gloves back on. “It is too bad,” you mumbled. Mumbled because you were too afraid that saying it out loud would change something for you. “That I can’t keep it, I mean.” He turned to you, not the least bit of surprise on his handsome face. But there was understanding there. He got it. You grabbed your post hole digger and went ten feet from the last post readying to dig the new hole. Thor watched your position for just a moment before you heard his footsteps come up behind you. And then he was standing there, at your back. If you took one half-step back you would be met with his chest. The day was warm but heat radiated off of him like a steadily growing fire. Something pooled low in your belly and your mouth went dry as he moved into your space and then you were flush with him.

His arms came around yours, his hands engulfing your own. His breath was warm near your ear as he rumbled “No, darlin’, like this.” He shifted your hands from the middle of the handles to the top. You were hyper aware of the way his arms felt around you, acutely aware of his scent. Sweat, and musk, and dirt. “That way you have more leverage and you’re not leanin’ over when it goes in the dirt.” He stayed like that for a moment, probably only seconds, but it felt like longer. You heard his breath catch from behind you before he slowly removed his hands, backing up just a pace. You immediately tried to retain the feel of him against you, the way his voice settled into you when he spoke. The way his smell engulfed you, making you feel like the safest person in the world. When was the last time you had felt that way?

Your limbs moved slow, as if your body was now full of lead. He moved back in again, briefly, sliding his boot between your feet and nudging them just a tad bit farther apart. “That’ll help too,” he said. And this time, when you raised the digger up and heaved down, you immediately noticed a difference. While it didn’t necessarily feel easier, it definitely didn’t hurt as much and your body didn’t feel as stiff, didn’t feel like it was being pushed into an awkward angle. You took a couple more plugs from the earth, digging down far enough to keep the pole stable and when you stood straight and looked at him, there was that grin written all over his face again. This time, that smile leapt to your face.

Thor pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, red with a white paisley pattern, and raised his hand, slowly, as if he was touching a wild animal, wiping a streak of perspiration from your cheek. “That’s my girl! Keep that up, we might not need help like I said before,” he exclaimed with a wink. Time seemed to slow to a halt. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. The words thundered through your brain, down out your limbs, between your legs. That’s my girl.

You looked down at your watch, surprised to see the hands tick forward without delay. As the day went on, a thought tickled at the back of your mind, like a horses’ whiskers on your palm. It’d be easy to be his girl.

The night came in cold enough that you were filled with relief when Thor stood to his full height and stretched, slotting the post hole digger in a pile of soil and suggested the two of you call it a night. Goosebumps had already peppered your skin and the breath coming from your mouth was visible in the air. You nodded and stretched a little too, trying to ignore that stiffness you knew would turn into full-blown pain by tomorrow morning. Thor watched you quietly as you slowly put your jacket on; he glanced from the ground then to the sunset when you looked his way. You let out a small barking laugh and almost immediately regretted it, wincing as the cold night air ripped its way into your lungs.

You managed an uncomfortable grunt as you stuffed your gloves in your pocket and Thor grabbed the keys to his truck. You examined your hands; your palms looked like one huge blister. The skin was bubbled and inflamed and if you were being completely honest, it was one more thing you really had no idea how to take care of on a scale like this. Thor started the truck and even though it was only a ten-minute drive back to the house, you were already thankful in anticipation of him cranking the heater just a bit. It would hopefully be a small relief for the contracting sensation in the muscles along your shoulders and arms and back.

There was not a whole lot to gather since the only portion of the fence that went up today was the posts; still, you moved in to help him by grabbing some smaller loose supplies and your post hole digger. You could feel his eyes on you, feel the way he noted you navigating around your raw hands. It took a moment but soon he was wandering over to you and taking the items from you, nodding his head kindly to the truck. You mumbled your gratitude as you got in, frustrated with yourself. It was only the first day but Thor was already picking up your slack. You watched him from the passenger side mirror as he slammed the tailgate shut. There was not a bit of annoyance in his expression. You had small inkling you were being a bit too harsh on yourself.

When he got in, the truck groaned and immediately the cab that felt huge and open before now felt full; crowded but not in an unpleasant way. You sneaked a sideways glance at him as he settled in. He didn’t shift the truck into gear right away but instead sat back, gazing out the windshield at the sunset. Even from your vantage point, it was stunning. The sky was a variation of colors from deep black-blue, to a soft blue, to pink, to orange. The sun slipped back below the mountains to the north and west and the only detail you could make out on them now was their peaks; they were in shadow and looked like a great set of black teeth.

The light coming into the truck had softened, illuminating the planes of Thor’s face. The slip of his golden brown hair, the strong cheekbones and slope of his nose, the clean jawline that now had a five o’ clock shadow. It was quiet, save for the lulling roar of the truck engine and somehow you knew in that second, you wanted more of these moments. Your brain hadn’t quite latched onto how you would get them but you were going to try. Maybe it was Thor. Maybe it was the gentle heat in the cab with the chill outside. Maybe it was the clean smell of spring scented air. Maybe it was a hard day’s work that was so different than the long hours you kept at home. Right now, it didn’t really matter. You sat back with a sigh of content, able to ignore the subtle aching in your limbs. Finally, Thor let out a gentle hum, a sound you guessed actually reverberated through his body.

“When we get back to the house, we’ll take care of those hands, all right?” You nodded and he shifted the truck into gear, turning back the way you came this morning and it was suddenly all you could do not to reach out and rest one of those hands on his arm.

The gravel crunched under the wheels of Thor’s truck as he dropped you off at the front of the house, telling you he was gonna take a shower and then he’d be back up to bandage your hands. You tried to tell him you would take care of it, really, but he insisted. Deep down, you knew you had taken care of blisters on your heels before but nothing like this so you gave in, hiding a smile as he drove the truck down to the other cabin.

When you got to the bathroom, it took every effort not to just quit and wallow right there on the old tile floor but after a few struggling moments, you peeled your clothes from your body and stepped into the warm water, ignoring the stinging of the wounds. It took a few tries with washing off the dirt of the day, with every contact with soap intensifying the hurt in your hands. As you stepped out, you knew you’d be popping some Advil tonight; it would be foolish not to, you guessed.

You threw some leftover chicken noodle soup on the stove and plopped unceremoniously into one of the kitchen chairs, leaning your head against the wall as you relaxed. The fact that you hadn’t worked on the Harrison case for two and half days now nagged like a trapped rat at the back of your mind. Your laptop was currently upstairs though and there was no way you were forcing yourself up those steps again until you absolutely had to. Instead, you checked your emails on your phone, briefly scanning over the subjects on each of them and filtering out the spam. You set it back down with satisfaction. You’d just worked one of the hardest days in your life and you guessed it was probably going to remain tough from here on out. Despite that, you felt more nervous energy bubbling in your veins.

You decided to pull out the old maps you had found at the little desk in the living area. The house was small compared to the expanse of the land itself. Your grandfather hadn’t been a person who needed extravagance, that was for sure. Maybe you’d convert one of the guest rooms into a study. It would certainly be a lot easier to spread out property maps in an office rather than a little desk in the living room. You put little x’s where you thought the boundaries were. You were somewhat familiar in your work life with reading property maps but these… the maps were old enough that you were second-guessing if the plot already marked was accurate. Another thing to put on the to-do list for a town run. Land maps would be public record, especially in a town as small as Dove’s Reach.

A knock on the front door snapped you out of your thoughts. You hollered that the door was unlocked as you rolled the maps up and put them back on the desk out of the way. You ladled soup into bowls, setting them back on the counter to cool just a bit. You heard him knock his boots on the door jam outside and then set them with a thump just inside the door as he ambled into the kitchen. You reprimanded yourself as you turned and got caught off guard again by his size. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the wood of the kitchen entrance, completely filling it up, quietly surveying your movements. You thought he was zoning out but you were not entirely sure.

“Uh, I hope chicken soup is okay,” you let out. His eyes met yours and he nodded enthusiastically as he shot you a dazzling smile. You gave him one back. “Somewhere else just then?” He nodded and you took one bowl at a time to the table, a heavy cloth in between your skin and the bowls. You hissed as the edge of one of the bowls caught a patch of the blister, the hot ceramic making the burning more intense than it should be. Thor was behind you immediately, taking the bowl and steadying it. It was a good thing because you were certain you couldn’t have prevented a spill at this point.

“Let’s take care of those blisters first. Looks like that soup is a little too hot to eat just yet anyway.” You nodded as he placed a gentling hand on your shoulder, maneuvering you to the chair you were sitting in earlier. The pain was pretty bad at this point; you had taken Advil about fifteen minutes ago but it hadn’t taken effect yet so here you were, miserable, and trying to fight the hot tears welling up in your eyes. It was embarrassing. Thor cleared his throat. “Did your granddaddy have a medicine cabinet around here?” You took a shaky breath and pointed to the little doorway off the kitchen.

“There’s one there in the laundry room on the opposite wall from the door.” He stepped away from you and into the little room. You could hear him open the cabinet door and rummage around. You hadn’t looked in there yet to see what supplies were available but you doubted any of it was still usable. Yet here was Thor, a huge grin on his face, some bandages in one hand and a questionable-looking jar in the other.

“I knew if your granddaddy was as much of a working man as you had mentioned that he’d have some of this here with him. Best ranch and farming remedy for just about anything.” You knew the look on your face was one of clear skepticism because he laughed, a deep booming thing that made you want to listen over and over again. “I know you city folk probably like to go to the doctor’s for everything but let me tell ya, if we put this on your hands twice a day and keep them all wrapped up, those blisters’ll be gone in no time. Three days tops,” he murmured as he finally looked at the ragged state of your palms. He was moving slower again, pulling out a chair and placing it right in front of you.

He sat down and despite the pain, or maybe because of it, your breath hitched when he caged your knees with his own. “Let me see ‘em up close, darlin’” he breathed as you held out your hands for closer inspection. He let out a low whistle as he gingerly took one, then the other to examine the raw skin. He rubbed a small circle on the inside of your wrist and you were acutely aware of every little detail as his calloused thumb against the soft skin there elicited an erratic heartbeat. He sat like that for a moment before seemingly catching himself; leaning back and reaching over to open the jar of salve. It was not a bad smell but you wrinkled your nose a little at it. He glanced over at you and smiled.

“This might hurt a bit. But it’ll help.” You nodded and braced yourself just a little. The balm itself didn’t sting but the contact of fingers on the blisters definitely did. There was no use hiding your grimace so you just let yourself go, taking deep breaths and letting them slowly out through your mouth. He was so gentle. This close and with his concentration on your hands, you allowed yourself to watch him unhindered by the threat of getting caught. His fingers were steady and slow and he was so sure of himself. You found yourself leaning into his touch, holding your breath. After he was satisfied with one hand, he took the roll of bandage material and slowly wrapped it around your palm, down around your wrist, and back up again to secure it in place.

“You did real good today,” he said quietly, still looking down, almost as if he was unsure he should say it. As if he thought you may not want his opinion. A smile spread across your face as you let out an exasperated groan.

“If you say so,” you replied, willing him to look up at your face to see that you mean it. He must have felt your eyes on him because he turned to you then, looking back. Searching. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks and creep down your neck and something leaped in your belly. He was so close. You could see his eyelashes. See how his eyes weren’t just one shade of blue but several different ones. You could smell him. A similar scent to when you first met him but also mixed with a fresher element from his shower. You could smell his wet skin and how it went from a day of work to warm water to the chill outside to the warmth of your house. It made you want to lean forward and bury your face in the place where his neck meets his shoulder.

You must have been staring a hole into him because he bit his lip then leaned back, finishing up with your other hand before grabbing the supplies and heading to the laundry room. “I do say so,” he rumbled from the little room. When he came back out again he’s smiling. His hands were on his hips and for whatever reason, it was exactly the release of whatever emotion that had transpired moments ago. You laughed, grabbing some bread slices and dropping them in the toaster. They popped up and you spread on some butter, ushering him to sit back down.

The conversation was easy, more idle chatter than anything else. Questions about each other’s lives. How long had he lived here? All his life. When did you know you wanted to work in law? As long as you could remember. You wanted to help people at the heart of it. How did he learn to train horses? From his daddy and his grandaddy before him. Would you ever consider keeping the ranch? The question caught you off guard and a rush of emotions flowed just beneath the surface of your calm exterior. Your pause told Thor what he had guessed the moment he saw you go to work on the land that morning.

“Of course I would,” you murmured as you pushed your empty bowl aside. You leaned onto the tabletop, one arm across its surface and the other supporting your face as your eyes stared off into space. “I just… I just don’t think it’s in the cards for me right now. If it had fallen into my lap under different circumstances or at a different time, maybe. But now? I don’t think so.” Your words trailed off and sounded empty even to your own ears. But as you glanced back up at Thor, there was no judgment there. Looking into his eyes, you could almost imagine a future here.

A future here was a dream though. A dream you were not keen on indulging. You tossed him a smile and grabbed the bowls to put them in the sink. Dreams were good. They could keep a person going. But you were already living a dream back home so you plastered your best convincing expression on your face just as he stood and brought the toast plates to the sink. You watched as he washed both of the plates, slowly, like he was waiting for you to amend your words. But you didn’t and he thanked you for dinner and headed for the door.

You followed him to it, leaning in the doorway as he stepped outside into the cold night air. He zipped up his jacket and turned back to you, a curious expression on his face. If he had thoughts about any of the night’s conversation, he didn’t voice them. Instead he just gave you that lopsided grin and bid you goodnight. Without a second thought, you reached out and grasped his wrist. He turned to you, looking at where your hand held on and then back to your face. You let go immediately.

“Um, thanks for… for today? For your help. Thanks for your help so far. I really appreciate it.” He chuckled low and quiet, a sound that seemed to continually get under your skin, and warmed you up from the inside out. He nodded.

“The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.” You watched from your place as he stepped off the porch; you could still see how his breath fogged up the air. “Good night,” he called over his shoulder.

You did not retreat into the warmth of the house until the darkness swallowed him up.

“This is ridiculous. What do you mean there’s a stipulation?” Another ten days had gone by and you were just now getting around to meeting with your grandfather’s attorney. Thaddeus Jones was emblazoned on the golden placard on his desk. The man before you did look like a Thaddeus but at the beginning of the meeting, he had insisted that you call him Jonesy. He sat back in his chair with a look somewhat like that of a golden retriever being scolded.

“Well, your grandfather wanted to give you time to… enjoy the little things in life again. He thought that maybe you’d need a break from all the hustle and bustle in New York. As such, in his will he specified that you could only sell the ranch if you stayed there for one year. If at the end of that year you decide that you still want to move forward with the sale, then you are more than welcome to and will receive any and all profits made from said sale. If, however, you have a change of heart, the ranch is also yours to run as you please. But if you decide to sell any time before then, all profits made from the sale will go to our local youth program.” There was no use trying to hide the stunned expression written all over your face. You had to stay here for a year? How were you even supposed to go about this without feeling torn about one thing or the other? You weren’t in it for the money. You knew that with a certainty that sat deep in your gut. And donating to a youth program was a great use of anyone’s money.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I just thought this wouldn’t be so complicated.” Jonesy nodded solemnly, his round spectacles sitting towards the tip of his nose. “I thought this would be a sign and done deal. I thought I wouldn’t feel so conflicted about leaving,” you finished quietly and suddenly it was as if the air had been punched from your lungs. There it was. There was the real reason this whole thing felt so ludicrous. It wasn’t the stipulation itself--it was the fact that you were actually considering it. You glanced out the vaulted window of Jonesy’s office. It was on the second story of his building and gave you a sweeping view of Dove’s Reach. It also gave you a focused picture of the huge storm brewing outside. Massive cumulus clouds gathered not so far away, the heart of them dark and foreboding. It mirrored the storm in your heart.

“I suppose the good news is that you have a while to make a decision. I’ll just have you sign some preliminary papers today and then you take all the time you need. It is a lot to take in but your grandfather was a good man, one of the best. I’ve known him since we were young colts ourselves. I’d like to think he knew what he was doing when he made this decision.” It was difficult to argue with any of that, considering you didn’t get the chance to know him better yourself. Maybe this was a good thing.

“Thank you, Jonesy. I really do appreciate it.” You bit your lip and glanced outside again. “That should work for today. I have a feeling I should be getting hom--getting back to the ranch before that hits.” You pointed and Jonesy watched you for a moment before nodding.

There really wasn’t much for you to sign at this point. Mainly papers about you having seen the will and that you had a knowledge of what was going to come of it. You gathered your copies and shook Jonesy’s hand before leaving; you were instantly glad that the two of you had decided to speed things up a bit because as soon as you exited the building, a cold gale hit you in the face, ripping back the hood of your jacket and nearly blowing your hair out of its braid. It would have been twice as cold had Thor not given you direction on which clothing was worth spending money on. You gave him a call, letting him know you were on the way back. It was a new routine, one that you had started. It felt good to have someone to stay in touch with. It was unlikely you’d get lost in such a small town, but still.

“Drive safe, darlin’. The closer you get out here, the harder the wind’s blowin’. I already put all the tools away and got most of the larger open spots on the barn boarded up. Also dropped some buckets on the front porch just in case. From what I could tell, the roof seemed pretty sounds but just in case.” A pause. “How did the meeting go?” You sucked in a breath.

“Different than how I thought it would go. I’d rather talk about it later though. I’m thinking I’m gonna head straight to bed when I get back. It’s just a lot. See you tomorrow morning?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The drive back was definitely worse than the drive out. Wind and rain pelted your vehicle, so much so that by the time you got home your knuckles were white and your hands were aching when you released the steering wheel. Thunder rumbled closer and closer and lightning flashed in the distance. A warm bath and warm pajamas were currently at the top of your list. Then bed. You smiled when you saw there were indeed buckets on the front porch, all mix-matched colors and various sizes but they would do if the roof started leaking. At least you wouldn’t have to be scrambling to find anything if it did. There was also a note taped to the door, scrawled in surprisingly loopy handwriting.

Grabbing some clothes and things from my place, won’t be back for a couple hours. Call if you need anything :)

You smiled and stepped inside, glad to be out of the weather. As you turned again to glance out at the land, the sky darkened visibly even as you stood there. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

Your phone screen was too bright in the dark space of the living room. 8:30 PM. The power had gone out and it had taken you a little bit of time to scrounge up some candles to keep things lit. You knew you should just go to bed but quite frankly, you knew that wasn’t a possibility. The storm raging outside was unlike any storm you’d experienced before. Sure, there were big storms back in New York but this… the wind and rain was coming down so hard, you were sure the roof was going to tear off. It was doing surprisingly well right now but with each big gust, the whole house groaned. The thunder and lightning were even worse. The sound of both was so close, so loud, so frequent that your ears were ringing. There was no way to research now with the internet out but you were pretty sure you had read something about lightning being able to strike you in a house.

You paced, already familiar with the location of the furniture, every wall, every corner. It was a comfortable dance around the couch, passed the coffee table, to the window by the fireplace and back. A flash of lightning burst in the sky, illuminating every contour of the layout of the house. Almost immediately the clap of thunder sounded like some ancient drum and despite the logical part of your brain telling you it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine, you dropped to your knees.

“Holy shit,” you breathed through clenched teeth. Your hands were shaking as you brought the phone to your ear. Thor was probably already asleep. He had gotten back about an hour ago and was a naturally early riser because he somehow was able to fall asleep early every night. He was probably asleep--

“What’s wrong?” The sleepy gravel in his voice sent shivers tripping down your spine. He had been asleep. But those two words were still calm. Concise. Protective. You were silent. Now you felt stupid.

“Uh, it’s--it’s nothing. I’m sorry I woke you. I can’t sleep. This storm is pretty wild. Um. I thought maybe you’d still be awake and wanted a drink but it’s fine. We have--” You didn’t know if it was your rambling or if he sensed the fear in your voice.

“I’m comin’ up.” That was that. A dial tone. He had already hung up. There was no chance for you to object. You waited by the front door, listening to the rain and watching for more flashes of lightning. You heard Thor’s heavy footsteps as he came up the porch steps, saw him as a flash of lightning illuminated his outline from behind. You hastily opened the door. He hesitated for a moment, only long enough to watch as you nearly leaped out of your skin when another boom of thunder cascaded about you.

He stepped into you, wrapping you up in a hug. It was unexpected but you felt yourself sag into him. His jacket was wet from running through the rain so he slipped it around you and suddenly you were enveloped in warmth. You buried your face in his chest, as he rested his chin on the crown of your head, rubbing his hand down your back. You took deep pulls of his scent as his voice rumbled above you, into you from his chest.

“Aw, it’s just a little lightnin’, darlin’. Just a little storm. You’re safe. Nothin’ to worry about, I promise. You’re safe.” He kept murmuring it as he nudged the door shut behind him with his boot. Murmured your safety into existence like a mantra. As you rested there in his arms, your hands under his jacket around his back, you tried to remember the last time you felt this way, like nothing could touch you in the world. The house could crumble around you and you would be fine. In his arms, you would be fine. You gripped a little tighter, noticing with mirth how your hands could barely touch around his abdomen.

“How about that drink?” You said it into his chest as he stilled above you, breathing in slow and steady as he nodded into the top of your head. You reluctantly backed up from him as he slipped passed you into the living room making straight for the fireplace. He had it roaring as you brought two glasses of whiskey on the rocks and set them on the coffee table. You sat, dragging the blanket around your shoulders and allowing yourself to zone out while you stared into the fireplace. The crackling of its embers still couldn’t drown out the maelstrom outside, however. Thor took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. When he sat next to you, the couch sagged under his weight. He took a sip of his drink before sitting back and opening his arms in invitation. You didn’t wait this time, instead scooting over to nestle up against him. Heat radiated off of him.

“Did you know the diameter of a lightning strike is actually only about the size of a quarter? Think about that, that big ol’ powerful force of nature the size of a coin.” No you didn’t know that. Another flash of lightning, another clap of thunder. This time you didn’t jump. “And thunder can actually be heard as far away as twelve miles from the actual strike.” Another sip of whiskey. “Lightning can also strike outside of the rain zone. Those strikes are called anvil crawlers.” A log shifted in the fire and your eyes drooped. He chuckled quietly as he intoned “In Norse mythology, the sound of thunder supposedly comes from my namesake as he rides his chariot across the sky.” You offered a lazy smile even though he couldn’t see it.

Thor continued on with more various facts about thunder and lightning and the storms that brought them. The taste of the whiskey sat light and spiced on your tongue, and your eyelids became heavier as you relaxed into him more. The fire burned steady and even though the storm continued to rage outside, at a certain point Thor’s voice faded into nothing as you fell asleep.

You woke up to the sun shining directly in your eyes. You groaned, shielding them from the crisp light and instantly regretted taking your hand out from under the blanket away from your heat source… Thor was stretched out behind you on the couch. It could barely fit the two of you but his arm was locked around your waist, caging you in. His breath came slow and steady on your neck. You could hear the rooster calling from his coop by the barn, hear his hens clucking about him. The cat you still hadn’t named was curled up on the rug by the fireplace, the embers almost completely died down. Thor took a huge breath, tickling the hairs on your neck as he rumbled something into the skin there. Your heart ballooned in your chest.

“I guess my facts weren’t that interestin’, seein’ as how we both fell asleep. Want some coffee?” You nodded as the two of you sat up. The cat chirruped from his place on the rug. He stood and arched his back in a stretch as well, coming over to the two of you for his morning pets. You both reached down to touch his hand, your hands meeting in the middle. Thor offered you a sheepish grin as he stood. “Uh, coffee is… ?”

“In the cupboard above the pot.” You smiled back, not bothering to hide any of the warmth in its shape. You stood, letting the cat out the front door. He seemed a little indignant at the fact that it was so wet outside but his ears swiveled and he was out the door and racing down the steps. You added some kindling and more logs to the fire, satisfied as flames leaped into existence. Thor handed you a mug of steaming coffee, with cream and a little bit of brown sugar. How he knew how you liked your coffee you didn’t know. But you liked that he knew.

The storm had cleared. A peek of blue sky could be seen from the window. With the clear sky came clear thoughts. It had been two weeks already since you had come to Dove’s Reach. Two weeks since you learned you had the rights to a whole ranch. A day since you had learned that you had to stay here for a whole year if you wanted to see any profits from selling. And only a night since you had realized that a year was no time at all.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor #thor odinson #cowboy thor #western thor #i need a hero #inthorantine writes #i did it!!!!#i finally am posting it!#i hope chapter 2 will be just as good

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incorrect-julie-and-the-phantoms · 3 years

Note

Jealous Luke+famous Julie (they’re both together now)

Hi there! Thank you so much for the prompt. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope that this is what you meant when you sent the ask. You can read the fic under the cut or you can click on the link here to read it on AO3. Enjoy!

Green Eyes and Fame

Pairings: Luke/Julie, Alex/Willie

Tags: Fluff, angst, jealousy, miscommunication

Five years since the band first made a splash, Julie and the Phantoms was one of the most popular bands in America. As the lead singer of the band Julie was the most well known and, thanks to her sweet disposition and how she went out of her way for her fans, everyone adored her. People just liked her, romantically as well as platonically. As her boyfriend of three years though, Luke kind of wished people would stop flirting with her in front of him.

Also known as the five times Luke was jealous because of people flirting with Julie, and one time he realized there was never a need to be.

1 - The Number 1 Fan

Luke was really glad in moments like these that the band wasn’t required to do meet and greets. He loved playing for people and he loved meeting people who were genuinely touched by his music, but after performing for two hours in the hot stage lights for the third time that week, he was pretty wiped out.

Management did require Julie to do these meet and greets once a week after a show though, what with being the lead singer and the name brand. Despite how she was just as physically drained as he was under the surface, and despite being at this for over two hours, Julie still greeted each fan with unending enthusiasm and her signature toothy smile.

He was meant to be there to keep her company, but found himself staring at her in fond amusement as she started admiring the little girl wearing Julie and the Phantoms keds. “My daddy got them for my birthday last week!” The girl beamed at her dad who was standing slightly to the side so his daughter could have her moment.

“They look super cool,” Julie said in an impressed tone, “and happy belated birthday.”

“Can you sign them?” The girl bounced up and down in excitement. “Please, please, please, please please-”

“Easy there,” Julie laughed, “I can't sign them with you jumping around like that.”

The little girl looked like she was gonna pass out from happiness as she hurried to pull off the sneakers. “Thank you Julie!”

A minute later, the little girl was sporting some autographed keds and a picture of her and her icon on her dad's phone. The man politely shook Julie’s hand before leading his daughter out of the room.

“I love you Julie!” The girl shouted behind her as she walked out.

“That girl was so adorable,” Julie gushed once she was gone.

“You think every little kid is adorable,” Luke reminded her.

“That’s because they are.”

Luke laughed good-naturedly at his girlfriend’s defensiveness over literally every child on the planet. She wasn’t wrong, kids were adorable. Especially when they were bouncing around in excitement over meeting their idol. Luke had helped her babysit her brother when they were in high school though, so he knew exactly how much of a pest they could be.

Luke pulled out his phone to scroll through Instagram as the next fan in the line up walked into the room. Luke only glanced at her briefly to see it was an older girl, probably around their age. He liked a picture of Alex, Flynn, and Reggie at an after-party and kept scrolling.

“Hey there,” Julie smiled at the girl as she approached, “what’s your name?” She held out her hand which the other girl took for a handshake.

“Lucille, but you can call me Lucy” the girl replied in a tone that sounded a little flirtatious. Luke raised an eyebrow and looked up, certain he had imagined it. He noted that the girl was holding the handshake just a little too long.

Julie just smiled back unaware, “nice to meet you Lucy. Did you enjoy the show?”

“I could watch you perform all day,” Lucy smiled back widely. Luke barely stopped his frown, definitely flirting.

As subtle as he could, which wasn’t very, Luke began to take her in fully for the first time. She was kind of pretty, tall with dark skin and almond eyes, hair pulled into a ponytail that showed off the buzzed underneath. Her nose was pierced and she was sporting a pair of cuffed jeans.

“I’ll take that to mean a yes,” Julie laughed warmly. “Well I’m glad you enjoyed it. And that you found the time to come for the meet and greet. You got a camera for the picture?”

Lucy pulled out a handheld camera and handed it to the photographer. “I was actually hoping we could do a pose?”

“Sure,” Julie smiled, “whatcha have in mind?”

“It involves your friend, if he doesn’t mind.” Lucy gestured over to Luke who startled in surprise at being addressed.

Julie looked over uncertainly. “I’m not sure-“

“I’m happy to join in,” Luke interrupted her. Anything to get between those flirty eyes and his very hot girlfriend.

Lucy smiled widely, “awesome! My idea was to have the hot guy look all jealous while I pretend to propose.”

Luke struggled to not glare at the girl. Choosing to keep an easy smile on his face and laugh. “Well I feel like anybody would be jealous of the person with Julie.”

He walked over to stand in front of the two while Lucy dropped to one knee. The jealous glare on his face was a little too easy for him to make as his girlfriend pretended to gasp in excitement. The camera flash finally went off and Julie hugged the girl goodbye. “It was nice to meet you,” she said brightly.

Lucy smiled back and handed her a piece of paper. “my number, in case you miss me.” At that she turned around strutted out of the room.

Once she was gone Julie turned to Luke, holding the paper between her thumb and pointer. “She was so sweet, it was nice of her to ask to hang out.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, “babe, you know she was flirting with you right?”

Julie’s eyes widened, obviously unaware of the fact. “Oh! I had no idea.”

Luke laughed. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice. Babe she proposed to you.”

“Shut up,” Julie blushed in embarrassment, “I can’t believe she didn’t recognize you as my boyfriend.”

“Trust me, she probably barely even noticed me there,” Luke kept the possessiveness out of his tone as he said it. Instead he batted his eyelashes and made a dramatic kissy face. “Oh, Julie,” he tried to mimic Lucy’s flirty tone, “I could watch you perform all day.”

Julie groaned and playfully shoved his shoulder. “I hate you so much.”

Once she turned to face the next person, Luke took the piece of paper with Lucy’s number on it to throw away. Feigning surprise when Julie told him she lost it with a confused look on her face.

2 - The Cute Barista

A couple weeks after the incident, the two were visiting their hometown for Julie’s father’s birthday. Before making their way to the house Julie dragged Luke to a hole in the wall cafe for breakfast.

“I don’t remember this being here in high school,” Luke mused.

“It’s new. I heard about it from an uh… Friend?” Julie’s smile was a little bit too innocent. Luke mentally prepared himself for whatever mischief she had planned, letting her lead him into the cafe. He was greeted with the intoxicating aroma of roasted coffee grounds and cinnamon pastries blended together and the din of people laughing, enjoying their drinks.

Luke went to the counter to place his order while Julie left to find a booth for them to sit in. He made a double-take as he recognized the barista.

“No way, Carrie?”

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him, mouth spreading into a wide smile. “No way.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I got the job for the summer while I’m not in school. If I had known they really let just anybody walk in here I wouldn’t have taken the job though,” Carrie teased him.

Luke laughed. “I remember Julie’s creative manager saying something similar when I signed on to be her guitarist.”

Carrie swatted his arm over the counter. “Shut up, we both know it wouldn’t be the Phantoms without you.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t nearly fistfight the manager when we first met. Anyways, how’s school?”

The other girl rolled her head to the side, a soft crack emitting as she cracked her neck. “Honestly? Amazing. I’m so glad I just decided to stick with the dancing side of performance, the whole singing and ‘dirty candy’ thing was kind of just cause I thought it was cool.”

“You’re cool though,” Luke insisted, “and I know that Julie is just waiting for you to graduate so she can snag you as a background dancer. She really misses you.” He paused for a moment. “Thinking about it now that’s probably why she dragged me here.”

Carrie blushed at the compliment and waved him off. “She knows that I want to make it on my own first, not ride on my friend’s coattails.” Still slightly pink, she gestured to nothing in particular, “what can I get for you in the meantime?”

Luke rattled off his order which she deftly took down. She then began to make his drinks and put his pastries in the oven simultaneously. Luke listened politely to her chatter about her different classes at CalArts as she worked, only interrupting to ask questions when she started talking in technical terms that he had no clue about.

If somebody had told Luke in high school that one day he would be having a conversation like this with Carrie of all people he would have said they were crazy. The girl had been a constant negative towards Julie up until their junior year, always trying to belittle her or one-up her with her own band.

One day though, Julie had decided she was through with being passively polite to Carrie as Flynn defended her. So, Julie made Luke drive her to Carrie's house in the middle of the night to verbally berate her to submission and hopefully get Carrie to back off.

The conversation had taken a different turn though.

It turned out Carrie was mad at Julie because Julie had completely shut her out when her mom died at the end of eighth grade and started ignoring her for Flynn. Then, when Julie started to be better and more like herself, she had ruined Carrie’s big premiere performance that she had spent months working on by showing her up with a last-minute song.

That hadn’t excused her being a bully, but after a lot of crying and apologizing on both ends, the girls were soon best friends again, this time with Flynn.

When Flynn and Carrie had first spoken to each other after the argument with Julie, they had gotten on like a house on fire. Reggie, Alex, and Luke had been equally surprised that they were able to get along at all after three years of fighting and horrified of what the two of them accomplished when they worked as a team to roast them.

It had been even more surprising when Reggie and Luke caught the two of them in a janitor’s closet at school, but that was a story for another time.

Despite constantly teasing him, she had turned out to be surprisingly cool without her ‘mean girl’ persona. She loudly called out people who were homophobic to Alex and verbally eviscerated people who made fun of Reggie. After she turned Dirty Candy from a pop group to a dancing group, she had let Alex join and would hang out with him until late teaching him. She also helped tutor Reggie in math when his ADHD had made it hard for him to focus, patiently explaining quadratics and Algebra.

In Luke’s eyes, anybody who was good to his friends was good to him. So, naturally, Carrie grew on him quickly.

As she finished making his drinks, Luke looked around the cafe for Julie. Despite how small it was, there was a surprising amount of people there, filling the atmosphere with laughter and idle chit chat. He kind of wish it had existed while they were in high school, it would have been a great place to hang out.

He finally found her sitting in a booth by the window, freezing once he noticed that she wasn’t alone. There was a guy there wearing a barista uniform, admittedly handsome, who was braced on the edge of the table in a way that was obviously meant to show off his arms. His pose was suggestive, leaning slightly towards Jullie.

As Julie laughed at something the man said, a familiar curl of jealousy wrapped around Luke’s gut. He glared down the man’s head, wondering if it was possible to kill somebody from this distance with his mind.

“Easy there,” Carrie interrupted his thoughts. Luke startled and turned back to face her, surprised to see she had finished making his order without him noticing. “What’s got you so angry?”

“Nothing,” Luke mumbled unconvincingly. Carrie looked over in the direction he had been staring in and smiled in a way that Luke meant trouble.

“Wow,” she said in feigned surprise, “I didn’t know that Jesús and Julie knew each other.”

“Jesús?” Luke asked. He knew he was being obvious but he had always been bad at subtlety.

Carrie’s smile was predatory, knowing she had caught him. Her face smoothed out innocently and waved her hand dismissively. “He’s nobody, just a new hire. His family recently immigrated from Spain so he’s still got the accent, has a habit of making nearly every girl here, and quite a few guys, swoon.”

Luke clenched his jaw and glared across the room at the man again. Turning back around, he paid for his food and slipped an extra hundred dollar bill into her tip jar. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice until they were gone.

Right before walking away though, he turned back to Carrie. “Hey I might need your help later, Ray is going to give me…” Luke trailed off, eyes flicking back to his girlfriend, “a family heirloom. He told me about a shop to get it altered but I don’t want to go alone.”

Carrie’s eyes widened in understanding. “Are you-?” Luke nodded, smiling bashfully. The girl beamed, “you bet your ass I want to go with you.”

“Thanks Carrie,” he smiled at his friend as he grabbed the drinks and pastries, “it was nice to see you.”

Carrie grinned widely. “You too man, pick me up tomorrow. I’ll come up with some excuse so Julie isn’t suspicious.” After she finished speaking she turned to the next customer in line to take their order.

Forcing the glare off his face into an easy grin, Luke made his way over to his girlfriend.

“Hey babe,” he said a little too loudly, startling the other man. Luke felt a curl of dark satisfaction as Jesús jumped a little in surprise. “I got one large black coffee with cinnamon for you, you sadistic weirdo, two lemon blueberry scones, and a salted caramel iced mocha, for me of course.”

Julie rolled her eyes as she took the coffee from the tray, “liking black coffee isn’t weird you know.”

“Plain black coffee is something that only people who hate themselves, are on a diet, or psychopaths enjoy.”

“It’s not plain,” Julie reminded him, “it has cinnamon.”

“The only reason I haven’t called a psych consult and you know it.”

Julie laughed and took a sip of the coffee, “you never know. I could be a psychopath.”

“Or a high functioning sociopath, if you do your research.” Luke grinned as Julie laughed at the reference. He loved watching her when she laughed, leaning back in a way that showed off the endearing gap in her two front teeth as her entire body shook with the force of her laughter. On rare occasions she would even snort, if the joke was funny enough.

Luke slid into the booth next to her and linked their fingers together while she laughed. Once she stopped laughing she gestured towards Jesús with the hand still holding the coffee.

“Luke this is Jesús. Jesús, this is my boyfriend Luke.”

Luke felt warm all over, being introduced as Julie’s boyfriend. Even after dating for three years it still made him happy. “Nice to meet you man.” He held out the hand not entwined with Julie’s for a handshake.

“Likewise,” the man responded. Luke felt a flash of surprise at the lack of accent.

“Jesús and his sister were adopted by...” Julie trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as she did some math in her head.

“Your mom’s second cousin,” Jesús finished her sentence. “moved down here from San Francisco. I’m starting at Caltech once the summer’s over.”

“That’s neat.” Luke tried to not be embarrassed over being jealous and thinking Julie was flirting with family. “Whatcha studying?”

“Double major in mechanical and electrical engineering,” he said proudly.

“Jesús was just telling me he wanted to be a robot engineer so he could build Norm from Phineas and Ferb,” Julie said as she took a sip of her coffee.

Jesús grinned. “You laugh, but that man shaped my childhood.” Carrie shouted for Jesús as a crowd of teenagers walked in, loudly messing around and joking. He grimaced, “looks like Carrie needs some backup. It was nice to meet you though Julie, and you Luke.”

“See you at the party later!” Julie called after him as he walked away.

“I didn’t know you had other family in LA,” Luke mused. He took a sip of the mocha, pleasantly surprised at how great of a job Carrie had done on it.

“Neither did I,” Julie confessed, “when my aunt heard I was in town she told me about him though and said to keep a lookout.”

“Is that why we came here?” Luke asked, snagging a bite of his scone.

“Nah, I just heard Carrie was here and wanted to see the horror on your face once you realized I brought you here for a dark roast and a Carrie roast.”

He choked on his scone. “That was a horrible pun, and a horrible thing to do.”

“Pun still made you laugh though,” Julie said with a smug smile.

Luke glared at her for a minute before turning back to his scone, sulking. “Just shut up and eat so we can go to your dad’s house.”

He tried his best to stay annoyed with her. When she leaned over and kissed his temple in apology though, his resolve shattered and he couldn’t help the pleased grin that spread across his face. Wow am I whipped, he thought to himself, but for the life of him he couldn’t find any problem with that fact.

3 - The ‘Nice Guy’

A month later, Luke had to miss a scheduled practice session with the band for the first time ever.

The only reason he was missing in the first place was because of Bobby. The man had finally gotten back to him about a favor he needed, saying he was happy to help. However apparently there was only one opening at his recording studio for the next six months, something about the starlet booked being sent back to rehab? Six months was too long for Luke to wait though, and he was already in NYC. So, he told Bobby he would be there.

He knew that, even without telling them his reason, the band would all be fine with him missing. But even with Julie insisting that it was completely fine, Luke still felt like a horrible person that they would have to cancel practice because of him.

The guilt gnawed on his chest until Reggie and Alex told him they were still going to practice as scheduled. Apparently, they had asked one of the backup guitarists to cover for him. Some guy named Billy?

“If you ask me,” Alex confessed to Luke while they were telling him, “I only asked him cause the dude really needs the practice. He’s literally paid to know all the songs in case you need time off and to play back up. But at the last concert, he was right next to me, and the dude couldn’t even keep up with ‘Bright,’ for longer than a couple seconds. The rest of the songs ”

Luke raised an eyebrow, “that song is like, four chords. If he can’t do it then why did management hire him?”

“Do we all have backups for our time off?” Reggie piped up.

“Yeah, mine is some named Owen, seems pretty nice. I’m surprised you guys didn’t know about yours. Jeremy is a pretty funny guy, way more level headed than you.”

“You sayin I’m not level headed?” Reggie said defensively.

“I met Jeremy,” Luke said in surprise. “I’ve seen him around everywhere but I didn’t know he was the backup bassist. Did you know he does voice acting?”

“My backup does voice acting?” Reggie flipped from defensive to excited in a moment.

“Anyways,” Alex got them back on topic, “Billy’s only your backup because his dad is the head of Covington Entertainment. Dude could ruin us if we don’t let his son have the job.”

“On that note, I will be sucking up to him,” Reggie said nervously, “quite a bit.”

After that Luke had felt a little bit better about skipping. He left for the studio a couple minutes later, after saying goodbye to Julie of course.

Bobby himself was the one who sat in the recording booth for Luke’s session. “You think I would let just any old person produce your music? You’re family, and family looks after each other.”

The whole thing didn’t last more than half an hour. It had been fun at first, messing with the different equipment and such that was usually off-limits. Without the band though, and he found it a little bit boring after a while. At the very least, this was a confirmation that a solo career was not for him. After Bobby called it a night he promised he would send over the demo once he was done editing it.

Luke thanked him a hundred times before running off to his car. Based on his watch, there was still an hour left to rehearsal. If he was careful and took the highway he could get there on time for a least a solid forty-five minutes of practice.

There was no music coming out of the studio as he arrived, probably meaning the band was taking a break. He was passing by the bathroom when there was the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Luke was going to keep walking until he heard something that caught his attention.

“-think I might actually have a chance with Julie, man.” Luke froze at the excited words, wondering if the person was talking about his Julie. He couldn’t hear whoever the man was talking to so he assumed it was a phone call. As quietly as he could, he inched closer to the bathroom door so he could eavesdrop.

“I’m not crazy,” the man said defensively, “the band personally asked me to cover for their guitarist while he’s off doing god knows what. We’ve been practicing together for a couple hours now and the guys love me.” A laugh. “Alex is exactly as much of a Mary Sue as all the magazines said and Reggie is the biggest dolt on the planet though so it really wasn’t too hard.”

Luke felt his teeth grind together. The Mary Sue thing was something that he knew bothered Alex. His friend was polite to everyone he didn’t know, even those who were rude to him, and tended to be a people pleaser. If the magazines ever had to deal with Alex when he was tired or stressed, they wouldn’t be so quick to call him a Mary Sue.

And Reggie wasn’t dumb. Anybody who bothered to get to know Reggie figured out pretty quickly that he only needed to be told things multiple times because his ADHD affected his short term memory and made it hard to focus when people were speaking to him. And despite what people thought, Reggie was a little shy. So, being around new people made him a little nervous which made his hyperactivity worse. So random outbursts, fidgeting, or rambling made him seem ‘spazzy’ and outgoing.

Luke was about to burst in and give this guy a piece of his mind. Yell at him about how Alex was actually a grumpy dumbass and Reggie was not a dolt, but stopped himself once the guy spoke again.

“I know that doesn’t mean Julie likes me. I’m not stupid. I know Julie likes me cause she keeps watching me while she sings and stuff. The chemistry is practically tangible dude. Trust me when I say that she wants a piece of Billy.”

Jealousy began to pool in Luke’s gut. Usually Julie sang to him, not whoever this wannabe was. Now that he thought about it, when was the last time Julie and him got so into a song that she kissed him at the end? When was the last time they went on a date? When was the last time they even kissed period?

She literally kissed you before you left for the recording studio idiot, his brain reminded him.

The voice was silent as the guy listened to whatever the person on the other end of the line said. He made an offended noise. “It’s not weird to talk in third person, it shows confidence. And why would I make up practicing with the Phantoms?” So this was the Billy Alex told him about, interesting.

There was another beat of silence, longer this time. “I’m not being delusional, you and I both know I would be amazing for her. I’m only here because her crappy boyfriend bailed on the band and I was man enough to step up and help. Once Julie stops being a stupid bitch and realizes I’m an actually nice guy- ”

Luke felt the jealousy and possessiveness burn into anger, slamming the bathroom door open before the guy could finish his sentence. As he took in the guy he noted that, other than being tall, he was kind of unimpressive. Especially when he looked like he was about to shit his pants at the sight of Luke.

“Hey Billy,” Luke said icily, “I’m the shitty boyfriend, nice to meet you.”

Billy blanched. “I can explain-”

“I heard enough,” Luke practically growled, cutting the guy off. “I can understand saying that Julie is amazing since it is super obvious to literally even the stupidest people. I can understand wanting to treat her right. Hell, I can even forgive you thinking that I’m the biggest piece of garbage ever.”

As Luke spoke he stalked closer to the man in front of him, watching as Billy stepped back nervously to avoid him. He kept walking forward, herding the man until his back was pressed against the wall. He stepped closer still, until he was practically in the man’s face. Despite being nearly a head taller, Billy still cowered like Luke was twice his size.

“Do you know one thing I will not tolerate though?” Luke asked as he plucked the phone from Billy’s hand and hung up on the man on the other end of the line.

“N-no?” The man squeaked.

“I will not tolerate anybody calling my girlfriend, or any girl for that matter, ‘a stupid bitch’ just because she doesn’t want to get with them. And I certainly won’t tolerate you making fun of my best friends.” Luke’s voice sounded dangerous to his own voice, despite being at a quiet, even tone. “You feel me, nice guy?”

“I’m sorry man, I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re right,” Luke agreed, “you weren’t thinking, and I’m not even slightly finished with your dumb ass.” He stepped back just an inch, crossing his arms to prevent himself from throttling the guy in front of him. There was a nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like Alex in the back of his head telling him that this was a bad idea.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything cause I’m not one to rain on your parade, but you really pissed me off. First of all, since you are apparently unaware, it’s literally your job to cover for me when I can’t be there. There was no ‘being man enough’ idiot when it’s in your job description.”

“It’s not my job to go to practice, the team asked me personally-” Billy protested.

“That brings me to the ‘second of all.’ The guys only ‘personally’ asked you to practice cause you can’t even play the most basic songs, and rather than letting you embarrass yourself, they were trying to be nice and help you. Cause unlike you, they are actually nice guys. And what you,” Luke jabbed his finger into his sternum, “did to thank them is turn around and talk bad about him to your friend the second they were gone.”

I didn’t mean any of it man. It just slipped out on accident.” Billy looked like he was about to cry, which was not a good look on him. The only reason Luke didn’t feel bad is that Billy looked like a petulant child who was only upset at being caught doing the bad thing and not remorseful because he did it in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, Luke stepped back from Billy before doing something stupid, like punching the son of the guy who owned Luke’s career. He stared up at the sky, tapping his chin as he pretended to think. “Say, I just had a great idea. Wanna hear it?”

Terrified, Billy nodded.

“Since I’m such a nice guy, I’m gonna do you a favor.” Luke practically growled at the man “Since your not thinking led to you ‘accidentally’ trying to degrade my girlfriend and talking smack about my friends, I’ll do your thinking for you for the rest of the night. Just so you don’t slip up again, understand?”

Billy opened his mouth to reply. However, even though he phrased it as a question, Luke didn’t actually care about his answer. So, he just kept talking before the man could speak.

“So, I’m thinking that, since you just feel so bad about all of this, that once we walk out of this bathroom we pretend we never had this conversation okay? But when we go back to the studio you are going to be unbelievably polite and nice to Reggie and Alex. Then you are going to work your hardest for the rest of practice until you have a basic grasp of every song. Then you are going to leave.”

“Can I at least talk to Julie?” Billy asked hopefully.

A wave of anger rose up in Luke. “You aren’t gonna speak to her unless she speaks to you.” Billy sagged in disappointment, nodding to show his agreement.

Satisfied, Luke backed up so that he was no longer cornering the taller boy to the wall. He felt Billy’s eyes on his back as he turned on his heel, marching out of the bathroom.

As he opened the door to the studio, Julie, Alex, and Reggie were sitting in the center laughing about something. The three of them looked up at the sound of the door, eyes widening in surprise.

“Didn’t expect to see you here man!” Alex smiled at him.

“Dude, do you know how weird it is to practice without you? I felt like I was in the twilight zone.” Reggie laughed at his own joke.

Julie walked over and placed a kiss on his cheek, rolling her eyes at Reggie’s joke. “Billy’s in the bathroom but he should be back any minute so you can meet him. He’s a nice guy, you’ll like him.”

Another irrational stab of jealousy pierced through Luke. “Great,” he answered her. His friends must have noticed the irritation in his tone because their smiles dimmed down.

“You okay?” Julie asked, a concerned frown on her face. He opened his mouth, ready to brush it off and pretend nothing had happened, as Billy walked into the room. He was all swagger now, a contrast to the boy Luke left in the bathroom who looked like he was going to pee himself.

“Hey guys,” Billy smiled. Luke didn’t miss the way his eyes passed over Julie and stayed just a moment too long.

Another stab of jealousy. “Just met this really rude guy today. You wouldn’t believe the things that came out of his mouth.” Billy froze, a flash of panic over his eyes that Luke only caught because he was looking for it. “It’s not that important though,” he continued, watching as Billy relaxed again. “I might tell you later if I don’t forget by then.”

“How about we get back to practice?” Billy suggested nervously. “Any chance you can help me learn Luke?” This time when he looked up at Luke he pointedly avoided eye contact with Julie.

Luke felt another pang of guilt in his stomach. He knew he was being an ass, but he really didn’t like this guy. Trying out a genuine smile for a peace offering, Luke went over to his guitar mounted on the wall. “Let’s play.”

4 - The Old Fling

The day after Luke accidentally put the fear of God into him, Billy quit the band to go work for his dad’s company. Luke felt kind of bad for him, but to be fair he was wholly unqualified. Even with Luke painstakingly showing him each cord he still couldn’t get it. The new guy they hired for his backup guitarist was named Charlie, who he liked infinitely better because he never flirted with Julie.

After Billy went home, Luke ended up telling everyone about the incident in the bathroom. Julie had gotten annoyed with him for defending her honor like she was some helpless maiden, but she seemed glad about him defending Alex and Reggie. The two guys had just shrugged and said he was really annoying anyway.

As an ‘apology’ to Julie for defending her honor without asking, Luke took Julie out to Coney Island for a date. He was pretty Julie just wanted an excuse to go there but Luke didn’t complain, any time spent with Julie was a good time.

The trip started out great. They went on the ferris wheel, visited some candy shop Julie had heard about, and rode the cyclone. It was hot there in late August and there were countless people on the beach. Julie closed her eyes and looked up every once in awhile, basking in the sun.

“You’re like a cat,” Luke teased her.

“Cats do nothing but eat, sleep, poop, and play all the time and are called cute even if they are little devils to their owners,” Julie replied without opening her eyes, “sounds like the kind of life most people would be jealous of.”

“Cats also lick their own buttholes,” he reminded her.

A shrug. “Well we can’t all be perfect.” Julie looked down from the sun and grabbed her water bottle from Luke’s backpack.

“Yeah, but I still think I’m gonna pass. I would have to stop eating taco bell, which is definitely a dealbreaker.” Great, now he wanted tacos.

Julie rolled her eyes at his bad joke, opening the bottle to take a sip. “Even still,” she said, “with all the team meetings, songwriting, and late-night concerts I’ve barely been able to enjoy the sun. I’m either sleeping or stuck inside.” Her shoulders slumped a little.

Luke pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, tucking her under his chin.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Julie said, voice muffled against his chest, “I love what I’m doing, and I love that I get to do it with you. I just wish that they didn’t make a meeting to decide if they wanted to make the ‘and’ in Julie and the Phantoms into that weird eight symbol.”

“Well obviously it was life or death,” Luke said in a grave tone, “can you imagine the outrage if we changed something that literally nobody would notice?”

Julie giggled, “I imagine it would be the same level of rage if we made the ‘J’ in merchandising a little larger.”

“Well that would just be unforgivable,” Luke said in mock horror.

His girlfriend laughed and hugged him back tighter. A familiar warmth spread throughout his core and his brain felt like it was saturated in happy hormones. He smiled and tucked his head in her neck. Luke let out a grumble of complaint once she finally pulled away, trying to pull her back into the hug.

“Luke, you’re cute and all but it's hot out.”

“Oh that? It’s just my burning desire for you.” Luke grinned as Julie groaned at his corny joke.

“I changed my mind,” Julie took a step back as she spoke. “I don’t think you’re cute and I actually hate you.” There was no malice in her tone though, and her exasperated smile was still fond.

“Nobody’s perfect,” Luke parroted back to her, inevitably bringing tacos to mind again. His stomach churned in anticipation.

Julie started laughing again, another one of those full-body laughs that showed off her toothy smile. “God you’re so…” Julie trailed off as she saw something behind him, eyes widening.

“I’m so what?” Luke pressed. He glanced behind him to try and see what caught her eye, heart dropping once he saw it. ‘It’ being Nick, Julie’s boyfriend from when they first started playing together and became friends. All distracting thoughts of tacos left his mind.

“Nick!” Julie called out, running towards the blonde man. He had grown up since Luke had seen him last, literally. Nick was definitely a couple inches taller than him, which Luke stubbornly refused to acknowledge bothered him. His baby face was gone and he had five o’clock shadow.

Nick caught Julie as she ran to him and twirled her in a hug. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were in town,” he said in a pleasantly surprised tone as he lowered her, hands still on her hips. He looked up as Luke made his way over, giving him a polite smile.

“Hey Nick,” Luke waved. His eyes flickered down towards Nick’s hands still on Julie’s waist, trying to stifle his possessiveness. Julie was her own person and it wasn’t her fault that he was still jealous of Nick.

The blonde didn’t seem to notice, amazingly observant as ever. Thankfully, he still moved his hands. “Man, it's weird to see you guys outside of a magazine tabloid or a video call. How long has it been? A year?”

“Three,” Julie corrected him, “either that or I managed to skip to junior year of college alarmingly fast.”

Nick’s eyes widened, “it’s already been three years since high school?” He looked like he was about to have an existential crisis.

“And yet Luke is still a child,” Julie joked.

“Hey,” Luke complained.

“We’re actually about to get some tacos if you want to join us.”

“We are?” He turned to Julie excitedly, immediately forgetting why he was offended.

“Yeah, I know you. The second you bring up tacos you’re basically impossible to distract.”

Except for the blonde idiot I had to watch you obsess over for two years. It then processed that she had invited said blonde idiot to join them for tacos. Jealousy and hunger conflicted in his mind. Great, now Nick ruined tacos.

The blonde chuckled in amusement. “I would love to but I'm here with my mom. She’s not gonna last another five minutes without asking me to take her back to my apartment, let alone going out to eat.” Julie pouted at that, and Luke couldn’t tell if he was more annoyed at the disappointment in Julie’s face or at Nick for disappointing her.

“Well you have to tell your mom I said hi,” Julie ordered him.

“Of course, my mom adores you,” Nick said sincerely. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw a familiar flash. Turning to look he saw a small group of paparazzi starting to form. Julie and Nick were completely unaware though.

“Jules,” Luke reached out to tap her arm for attention, to warn her.

It was too late though. Julie propped herself up on her toes to plant a friendly kiss on Nick’s cheek. Luke couldn’t help the spike of jealousy in the pit of his stomach as he saw her lean over, feeling the frown on his face before he could stop it.

The paparazzi went nuts, cameras flashing like strobe lights as they tried to catch a picture of the scene. Julie turned in surprise as they surged forward and started hounding her with questions.

“Are the rumors of your split with Luke true?”

“Is this man your new boyfriend.”

“What’s your opinion your gay drummer.”

“Is it true that you had an illegitimate love child when you were sixteen.”

Julie’s eyes widened, frozen at the onslaught. Luke reached out his hand and yanked her free of the crowd. The paparazzi had drawn a lot of attention, causing a crowd to gather to see what they were going nuts over.

“It’s Julie Molina!” Somebody shouted from the crowd. A bunch of people started murmuring in agreement, pulling out their phones. Luke cursed, their cover was blown. So much for a day without work.

Luke began to lead Julie away from the crowd at a hurried pace, making sure to wave and smile as he walked by them. Julie had recovered from her initial shock and joined him in their smile and wave.

Finally they made it to their car, breathless from exertion. The car was quiet, save for the sound of their labored breathing, until Julie broke the silence with a burst of laughter. Luke looked over at her in bewilderment, certain she had cracked from stress. She looked over at him and whatever she saw only made her double over harder, snorting between laughs.

“Are you okay?” He asked in concern.

“I’m, I-I’m just.” Julie struggled to catch her breath so she could form her sentence. “I’m just imagining the tabloid covers tomorrow. Poor Nick’s mom is going to think we’re a thing again.” Luke’s eyes widened in horror at her realization. Julie just started laughing again, “oh my god PR is going to kill us.”

“We’re so screwed.” Luke agreed.

The next day, the headlines showed Julie kissing Nick’s cheek while Luke stood to the side with a pained grimace.

“Sweetheart or Heartbreaker? : Popstar Julie Molina flaunts new relationship in front of ex-beau Patterson. Does this mean the end of Julie and the Phantoms?” Read all about it on page 3.”

5 - The daredevil

“I couldn’t have planned it better if I tried,” the PR representative declared as she beamed at the photo like Christmas had come early. “There’s nothing like a scandal to catch media attention, and ultimately what people think you did was unproblematic enough that people have no reason to ‘cancel’ you.” She looked up at the two of them pensively, “did I use that word right? My middle-schooler taught me it the other day.”

“You used it fine?” Julie glanced at Luke in confusion which he returned with a shrug to convey he was equally lost. He wasn’t sure what to say here. They had been prepared for a lecture, to get chewed out. Not whatever this was.

“So just checking, you aren’t mad about us accidentally causing drama?” Julie sounded skeptical.

The woman scoffed "Are you kidding me? Management is over the moon with your band’s popularity ranking. Sales for their latest album went up by 15% in middle aged women and 3% in college students. You’re even on the Billboard top 100 music charts now.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh honey no of course not. Frankly it's a miracle you made it as long as you had without appearing on the front page of some crappy gossip magazine. This scandal was so mild that it probably helped you. Honestly you just show up a couple times acting like a happy couple and the bad part will be gone, leaving you with all the juicy benefits.”

“Wha…” Julie gaped at the woman like a fish, expression bewildered. If Luke looked hard enough he swore he could see the error message as her brain tried to process being freaked out for nothing. Luke reached out and linked their fingers together, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“We aren’t in trouble Julie,” he translated for her.

“We aren’t in trouble?” Julie repeated skeptically.

“Look,” the woman leaned forward. “Your brand is defined by keeping your nose clean, not getting involved in anything controversial, being politically correct, and staying appropriate for all ages. All you did was make yourself a little messy, bored housewives and angsty teenagers like messy. And a little messy can also lead to good more messy.”

“Oh,” Julie nodded in understanding. She leaned over to Luke and whispered in his ear, “can you translate?”

“You were a perfect person, now you’re human, and something messy?”

“That’s so stupid,” she hissed, “I’m not perfect at all.”

“I didn’t say I agreed with her,” he retorted.

“Oh, so you don’t think I’m perfect?”

Luke felt the blood drain from his face. “Hold up-”

“And don’t even get me STARTED on Luke,” the woman interrupted him, “nothing is hotter than a heartbroken man.”

“Julie is,” Luke said defensively. Julie blushed and kicked his shin under the table. She still had a pleased smile on his face though, so he figured he was forgiven for earlier.

“Well not everybody is you,” the PR rep reminded him. “People want more of you now, and I have to say this is the perfect opportunity for you to start your solo career. Bobby sent over your rough demo to the big boss and is ready to make a team for you, just say the word.”

“I don’t want to release it now though,” Luke argued, ignoring the quizzical look Julie sent his way. With the argument with Billy, seeing Nick, and freaking out about them getting in trouble Luke had been too distracted to talk to her about it. The three days since recording the demo felt like an eternity ago now.

“Well obviously not now, the demo song isn’t fully edited yet.” The woman rolled her eyes like ‘duh.’ “We want you to announce it on the red carpet when you go to the premiere of The Other Side of Hollywood next week.”

Luke sat in quiet, thinking about what the woman was offering. “Can I have some time? This is kind of a big decision.”

The woman waved him off, “yes fine. We don’t have to announce it at the premiere, but we need your decision by the end of the month.” The end of the month was less than three weeks away, not too much time. The woman turned to her computer and waved them off, “just act like a couple and the scandal blows away. See you at the end of the month.”

As soon as he left the room, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “That was the opposite of what I expected.”

Julie laughed. “I think all it proved is that we are too goody two shoes to keep up with drama.”

“Maybe we should turn to a life of crime,” Luke suggested, “nothing too bad, just interesting.”

“What, like jaywalking?”

Luke staggered back in exaggerated horror. “I said nothing bad, you monster. I thought it was just a theory that only psychopaths drink black coffee but you just proved it right.”

“My bad,” Julie apologized, “how about cold-blooded murder?”

“Now we’re talking.” Luke smiled at Julie’s exasperated smile, leaning closer to link their hands together. “I got an idea on where you can start actually.”

“Jaywalking?”

“No, murder. You can kill me so I don’t have to go to the premiere of The Other Side of Hollywood.” It had been exciting to write a song for a big budget movie soundtrack, and he was excited to see the film. It was just the whole formal event thing that he wasn’t a huge fan of.

Julie rolled her eyes at her dramatic boyfriend. “It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

“Wrong, I’ve been told if I want to go I gotta wear a tuxedo. Nobody should be cursed by the sight of me in a tuxedo.”

Instead of replying Julie stopped them in the hallway, turning him to face her and taking a step back. Her eyes trailed slowly up and down his body, her gaze hesitating on his neck, wrists, and lips. Luke felt himself start to flush at her shamelessly checking him out, nervously reaching up to scratch his forearm.

Finally, Julie nodded. “Thought so.” She turned heel and walked away.

“What?” Luke called after her.

Julie turned her head over her shoulder, eyes sparkling mischievously. “That it’s a damn shame you won’t see me in my dress.”

A week later, Luke was wearing the tux.

Unfairly though, Luke turned into a flustered mess once he saw Julie in her movie premiere dress. He struggled to pick his jaw up off the floor as he watched her blue-clothed figure make its way down the stairs. To be fair though, what did one expect him to do when an absolute goddess greeted him casually before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“We get it,” Reggie sighed, “you two are in love and hot and all single people everywhere hate you. Can you just get in the damn car now, I was promised champagne and pigs in a blanket.”

Luke flushed at being called out by Reggie. He reached out his hand to lock fingers with Julie, helping her get the long dress into the limo. He kept that hand the whole ride, tracing the veins while he pretended he wasn’t staring at her. She could have told him to jump off a bridge that moment and he would have done it.

He wasn’t able to stick with her once they got to the red carpet though. After taking a band group picture she was pulled to the side for solo pictures, flashing an apologetic look their way. Luke knew she felt bad for being more famous than the rest of them but the guys honestly didn’t like the attention fame brought them. The three of them were more than happy to let somebody else be their face and stick to the background. Luke knew Julie couldn’t stand it either, but it was kind of hard to hide while being the lead singer.

He gestured to let her know that they would be inside waiting for her and she blew him a quick kiss goodbye. Luke felt the dopey grin on his face as Alex and Reggie dragged him inside to the party.

“Can we stay here instead of watching the movie,” Reggie mused. Luke couldn’t help but agree with him. There were tables overflowing with food and a champagne fountain in the corner. There were also three separate bartending stations spread throughout the room that Luke was pretty sure were all open bar. Besides, the movie sounded kind of dumb anyway. It was just a drama musical about ghosts haunting the Ritz.

“Guys, we literally helped make the movie,” Alex reminded him. “The man who owns the company who manages us produced this movie.”

“Okay,” Luke agreed slowly, “ counterpoint, Caleb Covington is an ass and we should eat all of his food in silent protest.”

Alex shrugged, “I’m convinced.”

Skipping the movie meant that Luke lost Julie for the duration of the film. He sent a quick text to let her know the others were skipping and she replied that she was going to watch it still. It ended up being nice to goof off with his friends for a while, having hot dog eating contests with overpriced pigs in a blanket just hit different for some reason.

He finally found her again later chatting with a guy Luke didn’t know. The man was wearing a black suit over a low cut flower print button up. His brown hair was tied in a knot at the base of his neck and there was a scar expanding down the side of his face. Luke made his way over to say hi with Alex trailing after him. He started catching their conversation the closer he got.

“It’s not that I’m against dating or hookups, it's just that people my type are usually not interested.” The man shrugged in an ‘oh well’ gesture and took a sip of his champagne.

Julie leaned in close to him. “Well I know somebody exactly your type who would be interested,” she whispered loudly. Luke frowned at the suggestive tone as she went to take another sip of her champagne. He was almost to them now with Alex not far behind.

“Oh yeah,” the man smirked, leaning in closer to her, “and who might that be?”

Oh HELL no, Luke’s inner voice growled. He pulled up next to them and coughed, startling the two out of their exchange. The man took a step back from Julie who just stared at him without moving.

“Luke!” Julie said in an excited tone, a wide smile spread across her face. “I missed you so much. Never leave me alone at a premiere ever again.”

Luke wrapped a possessive arm around his waist, staring at the man in front of him to make sure he was getting the message to stop flirting with his girlfriend. He planted a kiss on her forehead, “I promise.” Julie grinned up at him, her eyes just a little too bright. Looking down at her empty champagne glass he wondered just how many she had already had.

“You look too serious, Willie isn’t serious. Willie is the stunt double for the main character. Willie is a badass. Willie, Willie, Willie.” Julie laughed at some internal joke that he wasn’t privy to. Leaning towards his ear she whispered “Willie’s been keeping me company for you, slacker,” just as loudly as her earlier whisper.

Luke felt a flare of jealousy that his drunk girlfriend was waxing poetic about some guy he had never met while he was right next to her. The flare only fueled at Julie’s loudly whispered confession. He turned a dark stare towards the other man.

“You call it badass, I call it a paycheck,” Willie’s mouth formed a small fond smile at Julie, completely unaffected by Luke’s glare.

“Bad. Ass.” Julie insisted, reaching forward to poke Willie’s chest to enunciate each word.

Willie looked up at Luke in amusement. “Is she always this stubborn?”

“Worse actually,” Alex spoke up. He slid up next to Luke holding his own glass of champagne. The glass looked completely full, and Luke would have bet money that it was purely for show. “She’s easy to distract when she’s drunk so you can just change the subject to start arguing.”

Laughing, Willie turned to face Alex. He opened his mouth to say something but paused halfway through, mouth snapping shut. As the two made eye contact Luke could swear the room got a little quieter. Alex’s smile faded into a small ‘oh’ of amazement as he stared at the other boy while the small smile on Willie’s face stretched out into a crooked grin, eyes crinkling.

“Uh, hey.” Willie broke the silence.

“Hey there,” Alex replied awkwardly.

Luke jumped as Julie poked his side excitedly. “Luke and I gotta got. Alex.”Julie gripped the boy in question’s arm and leaned toward him “You need to take care of Willie, cause he hung out with me all night. I’m drunk so I think I’m not good to take care of him. I couldn’t even take care of a baby.” Julie’s laughter at her own joke quickly transformed into a haunted stare, “my god could kill a baby.”

“Yeah, she’s done.” Luke pulled Julie back to his side. “Thank you for keeping her company,” Luke said to Willie, the words felt like poison in his mouth.

“It was nothing, Julie’s cool.” Willie glanced over for just a moment before turning his gaze back to an oblivious Alex.

“Wait, we can’t leave until Alex promises me,” Julie protested as Luke tried to lead her away.

“I promise I’ll take care of your friend,” Alex’s tone was serious but his lips turned up in a very amused smile.

“I hope you take very good care of me,” Willie mused, casually raising his champagne glass to his lips. Alex turned red as a fire truck and started stammering at the bold flirtations.

And on that note. Luke grabbed Julie and began to lead her away from the pair, his good mood back. He was already looking forward to teasing Alex mercilessly tomorrow. Not to mention the green-eyed monster had calmed down a little now that he knew Willie was gay.

“Alex is so cute and Willie is so cute and they are both so nice,” Julie rambled. Luke smiled down at her in amusement, she always was a happy drunk.

“How did you know Willie was gay though?” He asked, leading her down the hall to the cars. He pulled out his phone to order one of those discreet taxis that usually brought the other drunk celebrities home.

“What?” Julie asked in confusion, “Willie isn’t gay he’s bi. Bi bi birdie.” She giggled. “Willie is so cute.”

The green-eyed monster raised his head again to wink.

+1 The Mother?

Luke was absentmindedly plucking the chords to Flying Solo on his acoustic. He had a flight that morning to Los Angeles, but his anxiety over what tomorrow had in store was making it hard for him to sleep. His plans to relax and spend the day with Julie had only made his nerves worse because she was pissed off at him for seemingly no reason.

So here he was at 2 am, less than three hours until he needed to be leaving trying to figure out what exactly he had done to piss her off.

It wasn’t that he kept the demo to himself, as far as he knew, because they had talked about it already and she said she understood not wanting to say anything until it was official. Luke even gave her permission to listen to it before it was ready. It wasn’t for losing her at the party because he would have gotten an earful the day after. It certainly wasn’t because he had left the toilet seat up in their apartment, he had learned a while ago not to do that.

The only thing he wasn’t sure about was the whole ‘solo career’ thing.

Luke had planned his trip so that he got back to New York the day of the deadline, which absolutely boggled his mind that he only had six days before making such a big decision. He and the rest of the band had discussed it at length, it was the kind of thing that concerned them after all. The other guys had been excited for him and Julie had been as encouraging as ever, talking about all the recognition and fans he would have.

When he thought about going solo though, he thought about how boring it was recording alone in the studio. How great it felt to be a part of the team, to succeed with his favorite people in the world. How much he hated being the center of attention. After talking to them it hit him just how much the idea of doing the music performing thing without them sucked. Luke was never in it for fame anyways, he just wanted to connect with people through music.

Luke told Julie as much in private, that he was pretty sure he wanted to stay with the band but wanted to wait to tell the others. Then he confessed that this trip would decide if he even wanted to release the single at all, since the song was so personal. Julie had patted his hand and given him one of her sad smiles. Since then, the crabby mood.

Hence, the solo career being the number one culprit. There was a thought nagging at the back of his head though, insisting that he give it the time of day. What if Julie wants you out of the band because she’s getting tired of you?

It wasn’t the craziest thing to think about. Julie was meeting amazing people who did amazing things all the time, and Luke knew they all were well aware of how much of a catch she was. People like Willie, her highschool sweetheart Nick, even prince Nikolai of Denmark.What if Julie had realized she was tired of foster kid Luke and his issues and realized she could have a literal royalty.

What if the only reason she hadn’t broken up with him already was that she was too nice? If that was the case, him refusing to go solo would have made her realize it would be basically impossible to escape being around him. Luke felt his stomach churn with anxiety over going home and jealousy.

In Luke’s opinion, it would really suck if his girlfriend dumped him. Especially since part of his reason to go home being that he needed to pick up her mom's engagement ring from the jewelers.

Or maybe she was just stressed because of her Rolling Stone celebrity profile photo shoot tomorrow, and Luke was making up her being mad at him in his head. Luke really hoped that was the case.

As the time neared 3 am, Luke finally accepted that he wasn’t going to calm himself down enough for even just a quick nap. Sighing in resignation, he began fingerpicking notes in random order until something started sounding good. He eventually realized he was humming to himself as he played, no words just a melody.

Lyrics he had written a couple weeks ago drifted in his mind. He had thrown out because they were a little too cheesy and knew the guys would have teased him if they ever read them. They hadn’t even managed to be half a song, so he wasn’t too beat up about ditching it. But now, he was alone and writing songs had always been a good backup to just practicing.

“Step into my world, bittersweet love story 'bout a girl shook me to the core. Voice like an angel I've never heard before. You set me free, me loving you is more than chemistry. I'll hold your music here inside me while my heart is in your hands. Melody and words are all I am, and when I’m with you there’s perfect harmony.”

Luke trailed off and sighed. All the song made him do is think about Julie, which made him sad again. Besides, the song didn’t feel right. He turned to put his guitar on a stand, pausing as he saw the figure leaning against the doorway.

“Julie?” Luke was confused. “What are you doing here?” The studio was a ten minute drive from their apartment, and last he checked she was asleep when he left. His girlfriend was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a band tee and her hair was pulled on to the top of her head in a messy bun. She looked like she had literally rolled out of bed.

“Why are you hiding in the practice studio at 3 am?” Julie raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Luke sighed and looked down at his guitar. “I just needed to think, to clear my head.”

“Why? So you can decide whether or not you’re going to dump me for some girl in LA tomorrow?”

Luke felt his eyebrows rise so high on his face, he was pretty certain they were at his hairline, from his surprise at Julie’s accusation. What the hell was she talking about? Asking if he was going to ‘dump her for some girl’ like he was even capable of noticing somebody other than her. “What are you-”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Julie said in mock remorse, “I forgot I was supposed to play stupid about you pining over some girl named Emily. Silly me, I just got a little upset when you implied the whole point of your super-secret personal trip was to go see your long lost love. You know I have a little difficulty being properly supportive when I’m upset.”

Luke stared at his girlfriend in bewilderment as she glared back at him. Her words were processing slowly in his head, not quite understanding how she got the idea that he was in love with mom. Then it hit, his eyes widened in understanding.

“Oh! You listened to the demo.”

“Yeah,” Julie said icily, “I listened to your love ballad apology.” She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Luke realized in a start that she looked like she was about to cry. She looked back down at him, face melted from angry to devastated. “You know everything about my exes, you were with me through Nick breaking my heart. Why didn’t I even know about this ‘Emily’ girl? Did you not trust me?” Julie choked and a tear slid down her cheek. “Or did you know that the second I found out about her I would realize you were still in love with her?”

“Julie.” Luke felt his heart drop at the sight of her crying. His movements were so instinctive he didn’t even realize he was going to hug her until he was already doing it. Her body shook as she cried but she didn’t try and push him away. “Julie,” he said gently, “before you get more upset, I need you to remember what my mom’s name is.”

“E-Emily. But why?” Julie froze as she realized, pulling herself away from the hug. She looked up at Luke, tears still on her cheeks. “Unsaid Emily is for your mom.”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t dramatically telling a girl you are still in love with her.”

“Nope.”

“You just wrote a heartfelt emotional song apologizing to your mom.”

“Yes.”

“This trip is for you to go see your parents and try to apologize to them, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.” Julie stared up at him blankly. Luke watched her, waiting for her to say something else. Finally, the girl reached out to smack his arm not ungently.

“You jerk!” She yelled at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were trying to do that. I would have tried to help you!”

“I know,” Luke sighed, “to be honest, I didn’t want you to come in case I backed out last minute or they rejected me. Cause if you were there, it would be real. And you got that big Rolling Stone article tomorrow, I didn’t want you to cancel.”

Julie’s face dropped into something more sympathetic, reaching out to hold his hand. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for accusing you of leaving me for your mom”

Luke let out a short laugh, lacing his fingers with hers. “I can’t believe you thought I would leave you at all though.”

“To be honest if it wasn’t this I probably would have thought it at some point anyway,” Julie confessed with a shrug. “I’ve kind of thought you were getting bored of me honestly.

His eyes widened in surprise. “What could I have possibly done to give you that impression?”

“You want a list?” Julie raised an eyebrow. “I saw the way you kept staring at that fan Lucy. Then you and Carrie were all chummy and went out together the day after my dad’s party without me. And while I was trying to set Willie up with Alex you got all mad at me and possessive over him.” Julie’s shoulders slumped, “I didn’t say anything cause it technically wasn’t cheating I didn’t want you to get annoyed and leave me.”

Luke stared at her sad face in bewilderment before bursting out in laughter. Julie glared at his amusement, “I really don’t know what you found that so funny.”

“Babe,” Luke grinned, “I was staring at Lucy because I was jealous of her flirting with you. At the premiere I wasn’t possessive of Alex, he may have been my ex but he isn’t my very sexy, smart, funny, and talented girlfriend. I was getting jealous because you kept rambling about how awesome Willie was and calling him your night and shining armor.”

“Oh,” Julie’s glare shifted into surprise.

“You’ve been so worried about me getting bored and I was worried about the same thing,” Luke confessed, “I am so completely in love with you and I’m not sure what I would do if you didn’t do the same.”

Julie smiled, stepping into Luke’s space, reaching up to intertwine her hands behind his neck. “I kind of love you too Luke Patterson.” Luke beamed, moving his head down to capture her lips in a kiss, wrapping his hands around her waist.

Julie shivered under his hands, better than any kind of high Luke ever experienced. He smiled at Julie’s little gasp of surprise as he pulled her closer, arching her back to pull him into a deeper kiss. Luke slanted his head in a different angle, humming in contentment.

Julie was the one to break the kiss, still locked against Luke in his arms. “I should make you jealous more often," she gasped against Luke’s cheek, as he kissed the corner of her mouth.

He froze, “don’t you dare.”

She laughed. “Well maybe you should convince me not you,” she teased flirtatiously.

“Well maybe you should marry me,” Luke blurted out.

Mid laugh, Julie’s face froze in surprise. Luke felt his heart start to beat like crazy, instantly regretting his words.

He hadn’t meant to say it like this. His plan was to bring her to her studio at her dad’s place. To tell her how he had realized he loved her the first time she hugged him after they performed, how he realized she was the woman he was going to marry after they wrote Edge of Great at 1 am their senior year. How he wasn’t able to stop smiling for a week when she told him she liked him at graduation. How the past three years have been the happiest of his life.

It was not meant to be blurted out after the two of them just had an argument over whether or not Luke was sleeping with his mom. He didn’t have his ring, wasn’t down on one knee, and definitely looked like crap from not sleeping. Julie deserved better than that. She wasn’t going to say-

“Yes,” Julie blurted out, cutting through his train of thought.

His brain circuited. “What?”

“Yes I’ll marry you, you big idiot.”

Luke beamed, heart soaring with joy. She said yes! He cupped her cheeks and started peppering her face with kisses. He was so happy that he was sure he could fly. Finally, he settled on her lips for a slow sweet kiss.

Once again Julie was the one to separate them, leaning back. “I am so canceling my Rolling Stones shoot.”

Three days later, Luke knocked on the door to a brick house in the suburbs of LA. He started fidgeting nervously, unaware of his fiddling fingers until Julie’s warm and slid into his own. He looked down at their joined hands with a smile, Julie’s mom’s engagement ring catching the light. He could do this, he could do anything as long as she was by his side.

The door swung open to reveal a tired grey-haired woman. Her eyes widened as she saw Luke.

“Hi mom. I’m home.”

#julie molina #luke patterson #alex #Reggie #juke #julie and the phantoms #carrie is just misunderstood I swear #fanfiction #Willex #flynn

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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years

Text

Standards of Performance, Chapter 8: Heartbreak and Lattes

From the Beginning, Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Only announcement for this week: I've started a new job, and my schedule is such that a weekly update is unlikely without the quality being verrrry questionable. Therefore, I've decided to move off a set schedule, but I PROMISE I will update at least twice a month. Thank you for your patience and understanding; I know a set schedule is preferable but I wanna make sure this doesn't go to shit. Also... apparently this isn’t showing up in the tags I use, which sucks - so reblogs help a lot if you’re able. I love you guys <3

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: In which decisions are made and overturned and many cups of coffee are drunk.

Words: 2666

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You were sulking.

Not enough to affect your work - you’d have to go through something much worse than heartbreak before you risked your internship. But your home life was beginning to resemble a timelapse straight out of an overdramatic teen movie wherein the protagonist’s crush asks someone else to prom. Your apartment was a pile of half-done laundry, takeout containers, and case files; your evenings filled with sad Spotify playlists and too much red wine.

And work? Not much better. Seeing him stride into the office every morning, filled with power and purpose and completely oblivious to the fact that he had shoved your heart into a metaphorical blender with a simple response to a seemingly innocuous question was really starting to wear you down. You had been so sure, that was the thing - so convinced by the team’s reaction to your story that it had all meant something. And maybe it had. But he had looked you in the face and told you it didn’t, so that was the answer that mattered.

So maybe sulking was the wrong word. ‘Spiraling’ was more accurate. A controlled spiral, mitigated only by the fact that 1. you had appearances and responsibilities to maintain and 2. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t actually the reason you showed up to work every morning, despite what it had seemed lately.

And it had seemed like that. You remembered getting the phone call that you had been accepted for an interview for the BAU internship, and the phone call that you made it to the final round, and finally the phone call that you had gotten the position - each more exciting than the last. You remembered meeting him, shaking his hand, completely oblivious to how much he was about to fuck up your life. Even when you first started to feel something for him, you convinced yourself it was nothing - a harmless crush wrought from your veneration and respect for one of the best in the field. Someone you admired. Someone you wanted to be one day. But then he’d made the unfortunate move of revealing bits and pieces of himself to you, exposing tiny slivers of humanity and emotion you were convinced didn’t exist, until you realized he was a person, an incredible one, and it wasn’t just admiration you felt anymore. It took all of a few months and a handful of genuine conversations until you were this far gone, and after he made it clear that your pining was one-sided, you knew you had to stop your fall there.

So you tried.

You kept your conversations strictly professional. Avoided driving with him or sitting next to him on flights whenever possible. Disallowed yourself lingering glances. But it was still too goddamn much. He was still too goddamn much.

The next case pushed you over the edge. It was bad (not just normal bad, BAU bad), and it was no one’s fault, not really. You got called in late, the evidence was shoddy at best, and when all was said and done, you caught the unsub, but only after he’d killed 4 women. The last one died moments before you arrived and apprehended the killer, and despite the delay of those few minutes being, again, no one’s fault, the team was at each other’s throats the whole trip home.

You were slouched in the corner of the plane trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Morgan and Reid were sniping viciously about something completely unrelated to the case, because despite everything they’d just endured, they would never outright blame each other for what went wrong. Hotch, deciding he’d heard enough, raised his head slightly and said quietly,

“They’re not always going to end the way we want. We did all we could.”

And you were just done. You couldn’t stand to be around this pillar of strength and compassion and resolve. You needed to hate him for rejecting you, and you couldn’t. So you marched over to his seat, and, steeling yourself, you said what you’d been wanting to say since he broke your heart:

“I need a day off.”

It had sounded more dramatic in your head.

“A day off?”

You nodded. Hotch gathered himself, seeming to realize that such a request wasn’t unheard of (though perhaps in his department it essentially was) and nodded.

“This case was difficult. I wish I could say exceptionally so. Get me your paperwork by tonight and take tomorrow off.”

You went back to your seat, relief overshadowed by disgust that it wasn’t, in fact, the 4 deaths you’d just been privy to that had broken you - it was the crush on your boss. You’d handled this case like a champ, in fact, because you were so absorbed in self-pity that you couldn’t feel anything else.

You needed to fucking recalibrate.

***

You were determined to make the next 24 hours the most self-indulgent, healing 24 hours you’d ever experienced. Quiet breakfast at a cafe? Planned. Self-improvement books? Downloaded. Vibrator? Fully charged.

No man was going to keep you from focusing on the internship you’d been gunning for for years. No man was worth that. You were going to cry, you were going to journal, you were going to masturbate, and you were going to get him out of your head.

You were going to march into the quaint little coffeeshop two blocks away that you’d Googled last night, you were going to order the cinnamon spice latte that an indie food blog had called “the epitome of fall,” and you were going to go for a nice, early morning walk.

Except you weren’t.

Because the next morning, when you turned to leave after grabbing your drink from the barista, you saw Hotch sitting at the table by the window. And Hotch saw you. And you weren’t equipped to handle this situation, because you were only 4 pages into your self-help book so far and honestly, the smile that lit up his face when you made eye contact would’ve broken you even if you’d read all the ‘how to move on’ manuals the literary world had ever produced.

So you obeyed his beckoning hand and sat down.

“Thought you’d be up to something much more exciting on your one day off.”

You smiled wryly. “This is exciting. I haven’t had coffee that wasn’t made out of an ancient breakroom pot or a hotel carafe in months.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake by coming here. Breakroom coffee is going to be impossible to tolerate now.”

“That good, huh?”

“Better. Try it.”

His eyes on you, you took a sip of your latte, and swallowed the most delicious concoction you’ve ever tasted in your life.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed,” Hotch confirmed, ignoring your vulgarity. “I’ve been coming here before work for years.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I impose on your hangout,” you laughed. “I haven’t tried many coffee shops around here, but I imagine this is hard to beat.”

“Not at all. But just know - this is my table.”

You grinned. “Understood.”

You still went on that walk. Still read that book. Still spent the day trying to think about anything else but the softness of that moment - you and Hotch sipping lattes, bathed in the light of the early morning sun.

But on Thursday, the next day, bright and early, you found yourself at that coffee shop again. This time, you took a seat at the table adjacent to his. He looked up and smiled.

“Glad you heeded my advice.”

You smiled back and gestured to the heaping pile of files in front of him. “Not like there’d be much room for me anyways.”

You finished your coffees in relative silence and left at the same time for the office.

Friday, you learned Hotch’s coffee order: flat white with an extra shot of espresso.

Saturday, you happened to arrive before he did, so you ordered his drink and set it on his table. Ten minutes passed and you thought he wasn’t going to show up, but he soon bustled in looking frantic. You waved him over, and he smiled when he saw the coffee waiting for him.

“Sorry, got stuck on a phone call,” he apologized. Like you were expecting him. Like this was something you guys did now.

You supposed it was.

Sunday, you got called for a case before you even made it to the coffee shop. You sat down in the conference room at 6 am, groggy as all hell. Hotch entered after you and handed you a mug, saying nothing before moving to address the team.

There was a small sticky note attached to the mug that read, “It’s no cinnamon spice latte, but it’s caffeine just the same.”

You fought to keep a grin from splitting your face, and ignored the team’s knowing smirks.

The case was in a small town in Colorado. The motel the team was staying in was less than ideal because of the location - bare bones, broken heaters, probably had the same bedsheets since its opening over 50 years ago. There was a small coffee pot in your room, and after you arrived Sunday evening, you walked down the street to the small convenience store and bought a bag of ground coffee.

When you handed him the cup Monday morning, he looked at it like it was salvation itself. Which, judging by the dark circles under his eyes, it may well have been.

“Long night?” you asked, loading into the back of the SUV.

“Always,” he responded from the front seat. He took a sip of the coffee. “I don’t mean to offend, but this is terrible.”

You gasped in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know that is genuine Folgers pre-ground gas station coffee.”

“It tastes like it was made in a toilet,” he grumbled. He took another sip and smirked at you in the rearview mirror.

You’d long stopped trying to get over him.

After the case in Colorado, the team was given a merciful break from the rapid-fire calls they’d been caught up in the last few months.

You and Hotch continued your pre-work ritual, showing up to the coffee shop earlier and earlier each day. For you, it was a conscious attempt to spend more time with him. He didn’t acknowledge the extra 20 minutes that had worked its way into the morning routine, but you could only hope his intentions were the same.

One particularly chilly fall day, you burst in the door 10 minutes later than your unofficial meeting time. Hotch shot you a patented raised eyebrow as you unwrapped your scarf and took your seat.

“Overslept?”

“No,” you retorted, “I was trying to make breakfast and my stove stopped working. Again. Maintenance can’t come fix it for two days.”

“Did you eat?” he asked.

“No, I was just gonna grab a muffin or something here.”

He nodded and went back to his laptop.

The next day, you sat down to a metal thermos on your table.

“What’s this?” you asked him.

“Oatmeal,” he responded without looking up. “You said your stove was broken.”

You opened the thermos to a puff of brown sugar-scented steam and the feeling that your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered, afraid your voice would crack if you spoke any louder.

He looked over at you with an expression softer than you’d ever seen him wear. “You’re welcome.”

A week later, you’d miraculously worked your way through the backed-up deluge of paperwork from the last few cases, and after clicking through the morning’s emails, you slammed your laptop shut.

“We should go for a walk,” you said to Hotch, who somehow still had a stack of files in front of him that was threatening to surpass the table’s weight capacity.

“A walk?” Hotch asked, looking at the aforementioned files as if he were afraid they’d hear him considering the idea of a break.

“Yeah,” you responded. “Come on. It’s so pretty outside, and it’s gonna be too cold soon. Besides, we’re more caught up with work than we have been in months.”

“Speak for yourself,” he quipped, but he packed his briefcase just the same.

It really was beautiful outside. As soon as you stepped out the door, a gust of wind sent red and orange leaves skittering across the sidewalk at your feet. You wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck and motioned to the park across the street.

“Want to walk through the park?”

Hotch shrugged, a noncommittal ‘yes’, and followed you.

The park was sprawling, packed with massive trees in the midst of displaying their autumnal colors. Despite the early hour, there were joggers and dog-walkers populating the dirt path that meandered through. You strolled side by side, making idle chat about the weather and the holidays coming up, until you came to a bench set beside a pond in a small grove. Hotch took a seat and you followed his lead.

Reclining your head against the back of the bench, you exhaled. “This is the closest I’ve come to being out in nature in forever. I need to do this more often.”

Hotch murmured his agreement. “I’d apologize for the lack of free time, but I’m afraid it only gets worse.”

“When you officially join the team, you mean?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Assuming that’s something you’re interested in.”

“Of course I am,” you said, “but I didn’t think it was really up to me.”

“It’s not - I give the final recommendation.”

“Better start buying you more coffees then,” you teased, looking over at him.

“Unfortunately, as Unit Chief, I have a responsibility not to accept bribery.” He smiled back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You studied his face - the stern curve of his brow, the carved structure of his jaw, the stress lines set in from decades of sleepless nights and unspeakable losses. Despite the increasing time you’d been spending in close proximity, you were mesmerized, as always, by the stormy intensity of his eyes meeting yours. You were close enough to smell his cologne, and you were reminded of the night in his apartment when he told you about his family. If you thought you’d fallen for him then, it was nothing compared to how you felt now, after starting each morning sitting beside him in the quiet peace of that downtown coffee shop.

“We should get going,” he murmured, not checking his watch, not shifting his gaze from yours. You nodded, not fully comprehending his words, feeling dazed at his nearness.

It was impossible to tell who made the first, imperceptible shift. All you knew is you scarcely had time to think before his hand was on your jaw, cradling the back of your head, bringing you to him. His mouth met yours and you closed your eyes instinctively, melting into his warm body beside you, fisting the front of his jacket in your hands.

You couldn’t remember ever having been kissed so decisively before. His fingers gripped into the base of your skull, his forehead nearly pressed against yours, and despite the chastity of your closed mouths, you whimpered into his. He stiffened at the sound and pulled back, still holding you, inches away.

You saw the shift in his eyes before he moved. It was as if he consciously closed some gate, walling himself off. His pupils, blown, started to retract to their normal size, frown returned, hand drew back. You watched, heart still racing, unable to speak as he turned to grab the briefcase sitting at his feet. Only then did he look back at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and if his low voice was meant to betray any hint of emotion, you didn’t hear it.

He stood, walked around the back of the bench towards the path, and paused.

“I’ll see you at the office.”

You were too shell-shocked to reply.

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alia-turin · 3 years

Text

Request: I wish you would write a fic where Caranthir and Imlerith are being requested by their commander to capture a human sorceress, who is known for her healing powers, compel her to divulge her secrets and spells and then kill her, but things take an unexpected turn

Honestly guys I feel so bad because you sent these awesome requests and I feel like butcher them and turn them upside down :D

In any case couple of notes - big HC that I was introduced to is that despite everything Imlerith has soft side for animals, so I’m sorry if he sounds a bit OOO, but that whole thing is really about his soft side. If you want more Imlerith + animals, please check out @erinbeast . I have also put some ideas for Caranthir that come from an old fic I posted and another fic I’m currently working on (which I might never post but there is that). I hope y’all enjoy tagging you

AO3 Link

Warning: mentioning of injured animal

Caranthir stepped through the portal and Imlerith followed. Neither of them was wearing their armor, at least not in full. His friend still wore gauntlets instead of gloves and some of the metal around his legs and torso. Caranthir on the other hand was more practical, no amount of armor was going to protect them where they were going so he was just wearing his normal clothes and a cloak. He knew roughly where their final destination was supposed to be, but he wasn’t sure so he ended up getting them in the forest and they were going to figure the rest.

“I still don’t understand what Eredin’s problem with that particular sorceress is.” Imlerith groaned as Carathir led the way. He could sense the bitch so it wouldn��t be that difficult to find her at that point.

“Does it matter?” they were alone, even the usual forest sounds were somehow dulled around them. He couldn’t hear birds, just the wind brushing against the leaves. “She is a human sorceress, she is better off dead.”

Imlerith raised an eyebrow but the younger man did not see him as he was leading. Since Caranthir had joined the Red Riders the two of them had become friends. He had trained him to use a sword and spear, art Caranthir never mastered, but he had become damn good with that staff of his even when he was not using magic. He had also seen him grow, become more of a Red Rider compared to the skinny kid who left Avallac’h.

“For someone who uses magic you hate other mages way too much. Jealous they might be better than you?” He mocked but also that was something Imlerith never fully understood. One day something had snapped in Caranthir. The man never showed any real hate to anything but Avallac’h, at most he would just show lack of interest in things which in Caranthir’s cold mind was probably equal to hate. But then something happened, first it was just the darker mood but then during one of their raids he saw the Navigator break the skull of a human sorcerer. Imlerith liked violence, he inflicted it however he could, it made his blood running, but that had been something new from Caranthir. Maybe their friendship was rubbing on him or maybe it was just the Eredin effect.

“There isn’t anybody who is better…” Caranthir suddenly stopped. “Do you hear that?”

Imlerith looked around and focused, he could hear it. It sounded like a dog whining somewhere close. Without thinking Imlerith traced the sound and Caranthir was following.

It didn’t take them too far until they found the wolf lying on a bed of leaves and dirt. It was injured, an arrow was sticking from one of its hind legs and another one from its abdomen. Imlerith’s jaw clenched. He liked hunting, but he never did it for sport, it had always been for food or fur and he always made sure to finish his kill fast. He had no issue killing humanoid creatures in an extremely painful way, he even took pleasure in it, but animals were innocent. Whoever did not finish that kill deserved slow and painful death.

The wolf looked at them and showed them his teeth but he looked weak. Imlerith stepped closer, the arrow in the leg did not seem so bad, but the one in the abdomen...that was nasty wound.

Caranthir just looked at the other man as he approached the wolf, the animal was growling, but there was no bite, no danger to it.

“Imlerith, it’s dying, mercy is the best thing you can do for it.” He knew his friend felt some kinship to animals. Everyone always thought Imlerith to be mindless brute, Eredin’s rabid dog, but that was just part of the story. There is a side that almost nobody had seen.

“Maybe Avallac’h should have shown you some mercy.” the other man pointed at his face where Caranthir’s scars were.

“Maybe your mother should have shown some mercy when she saw you are barely intelligent to get dressed.” the Navigator bit back without hesitation. That’s what they did, Imlerith made fun of the scars on his face, the only person he tolerated to do that, and he made fun of Imlerith’s intelligence, just like true brothers.

Caranthir sighed. He wasn’t heartless, he just didn’t see a point in letting the poor animal suffer. He knelt next to Imlerith and placed a hand on the wolf’s head despite the sharp teeth that were barren.

“What are you doing?” Imlerith grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

“I’m not killing it. I can relate to the need to protect innocence and purity in its clearest form.” Imlerith had no idea what that meant. Caranthir had the habit to speak like Avallac’h at times, half of a conversation that made no sense to anyone. He made fun of him for that, but not now. The navigator freed his hand and placed it on the wolf again. Second later the animal was asleep and the laboured breathing was calmer. “We can break the arrows, but we should not pull them out, we need to deal with that bitch, which would be a quick job and then we can take it to Tir na Lia. It should be asleep for about two hours and it doesn’t feel pain, just make sure it doesn’t lose any more blood, because that will kill it.”

Caranthir didn’t have much hope for the animal surviving, judging by the blood around, it had been like that for some time, and his healing powers have always been the weakest from his many talents.

Imlerith scooped the wolf in his arm and followed Caranthir. He constantly looked at the animal to make sure it was still breathing. He decided he would name it Treise, a strong name for a beast like that. It wasn’t too long when they found an old log cabin deep in the woods. Caranthir did not stop, the man had no fear from some human witch, Imlerith followed but left the wolf outside, to prevent any further harm. He had seen mages fight and he also knew the pleasure Caranthir felt in making them suffer.

The Navigator was the first to enter the log cabin, bending his neck in an awkward position to get through the human sized door. Nothing impressive inside, wooden table, chairs, a bed in the far corner. The bitch was sitting next to the fireplace and turned in surprise when they walked in.

“Who…” she started a question, but he never allowed her to finish. His first attack knocked her on the ground, he wasn’t going to kill her, he was going to take his time.

Imlerith watched as Caranthir attacked the witch, she was a pretty thing for a human, small and fragile. A predator grin decorated his lips. Maybe he would let Caranthir have his fun using her to mop the floor and then he will have his type of fun.

“Wait!” the woman was on her hands and knees, her hair was a mess and there was blood running from her mouth. “I can help you.” Caranthir laughed mockingly. “I know you brought an injured animal with you, I can sense it, I’m a healer, I can help.”

Without hesitation Imlerith placed a hand on the navigator’s shoulder. Caranthir turned toward him, there was cold fire burning in his eyes. Funny how usually the roles were reversed. It had always been the younger man stopping him, but now Imlerith had other concerns than simple bloodlust.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, digging his fingers a bit deeper in the other man’s shoulder, his hand sinking in the soft first of his cloak.

“I cannot beat him.” she nodded at Caranthir. “And I don’t know why you are here but it isn’t for fortune reading. I help your wolf, you let me live.”

“No.” Caranthir said, almost offended.

“Deal.” Imlerith spoke at the same time and they both exchanged looks.

The woman wasn’t stupid and she did not wait for the two of them to sort their small differences. She got on her feet with visible effort and slowly limped toward the door.

“Please tell me the plan is to let her heal the wolf and then we kill her?” Caranthir said through his teeth, his jaw clenched. Imlerith did not answer. He wasn’t sure what the plan was. “You will tell Eredin. I’m not dealing with that.”

When they went out Caranthir walked to the nearest tree and pressed his back against it, his arms crossed over his chest, his cold eyes just pinned on the woman.

“It’s very weak.” the witch said as she placed her hand on the animal.

“Oh great, it’s very weak. Must have missed that.” the navigator said sarcastically, Imlerith couldn’t stop the smile on his lips.

The woman ignored them and started working. She pulled what was left from the arrows, thick blood started pooling on the fur but she worked quickly. She chanted a spell and pulled some herbs from her pocket that she applied to the wounds. Couple of minutes later she got up, the animal was still asleep and Imlerith got worried for a moment. Did she trick them? Did she kill the wolf as a final ‘fuck you’? If that was the case, whatever Caranthir was planning to do to her, would be nothing compared to what he would do to her.

“I cannot do anything about the lost blood.” she finally said. “And I cannot wake it up because of his spell. But once it wakes up it will be weak, it won’t be able to take care of itself until its body recovers from the loss.”

Caranthir forced an arrogant smile on his lips. Of course she couldn’t she was just a stupid human mage. It was surprising that Imlerith had been so...soft, between the two of them he had always been the nicer one, had he changed so much? No, it wasn’t that. He felt pity for the animal as well and didn’t really want it to die, but he was the logical one, Imlerith was impulsive. Where was Avallac’h now to see him? Where was his old teacher to call him rash?

“Am I free to go?” the woman asked, her eyes shifting between the two of them. Imlerith nodded, Caranthir was not really sold on the idea, but nodded as well.

He opened a portal and waited for Imlerith to grab the wolf and step through it, then he followed. They went straight to Imlerith’s apartments in the castle in Tir na Lia.

“We are not telling Eredin.” his friend finally said as he gently placed the wolf on his bed. He had never seen Imlerith being gentle with anything.

“We are not telling Eredin.” Caranthir repeated. “You are telling Eredin.”

“No.” Imlerith was still looking at the wolf. “We are waiting for a couple of days, and then we will do what we were supposed to do.”

After Caranthir didn’t speak for a while, he turned to make sure the navigator was still there.

“Why?” the younger man finally asked.

“Because that wolf means more to me than any other life out there and I’m paying her by giving her a couple of days.” Imlerith wasn’t sure if the navigator understood, neither of them was affectionate to anything. He expressed his emotions with violence and Caranthir...emotions did not come easy with him.

Caranthir nodded. He could relate, probably the reason he reacted the way he did was just because he did not expect Imlerith to be so...kind. But he could understand the desire to protect something.

#my writing #imlerith #caranthir ar feiniel #the witcher fandom #the witcher #aen elle

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abaikgirl · 3 years

Text

I posted before about how lucky Endeavor was that Nighteye died before he was officially named number one hero and here’s a fanfiction I wrote to illustrate exactly what I meant by that. (it’s also on Ao3 if you want to go support me there. Use the link in my description)

And you should know I had to physically restrain myself from including my ocs in this because then the story would have been a multichapter and we don’t have time for that right now.

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

“And the number one hero for this year is the Flame Hero, Endeavor!”

The crowd cheered but Mirai remained still and quiet in his wheelchair. Endeavor the number one hero? The idea was unfathomable. He knew he had taken the number one spot (by default) after All Might’s retirement and he had assumed that his (default) status would not hold. Not against such fine and charismatic heroes like Best Jeanist, Hawks, and Ryukyu. But it appeared despite Endeavor’s lack of charisma or any likeable qualities whatsoever, he had taken the number one spot.

He glanced at All Might who sat only a few seats away from him, expecting some sort of reaction, but he was clapping and smiling with everyone else. Surely All Might saw what a problem it was to have Endeavor as the number one?

“Everything all right, Sir?” Mirio asked from over his shoulder. He had volunteered to wheel Mirai around for this excursion. He had insisted that he had recovered enough to walk, but his doctors and Mirio had been adamant that his body needed the rest, hence the wheelchair. His sleeve fluttered loosely at his side, a reminder of his missing arm. And while his whole body seemed to protest at even sitting up, he didn’t like the idea of everyone coddling him. It was just a near death experience. He didn’t see why that gave everyone an excuse to treat him like he was made of glass.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Just thinking.”

After the ceremony, he spoke briefly with All Might. Things were improving between them, but there was still a whole chasm of unspoken words between them that neither were willing to breach just yet. It didn’t seem like an appropriate time to bring up his feelings about Endeavor taking the number one spot and he suspected All Might already knew how Mirai felt about it. So they made polite conversation, wished each other well, and Mirai was taken home.

He wasn’t sure what exactly prompted him to pick up the phone a few days later and dial the Endeavor agency. Maybe it was the conversation with All Might earlier that day when he mentioned that Endeavor had asked him for advice on how to be a symbol of peace. Maybe it was the ache in his side or maybe it was the all encompassing boredom of not having anything to do. Whatever it was, there was no one around to stop him from making the call.

All he had to say was his hero name and that he wanted to speak directly to Endeavor and he was connected to him almost immediately. He may be officially retired, but his reputation alone made it easy to get in contact with any hero he wanted. People respected his foresight as much as they feared it.

“Hello?” Endeavor answered in a gruff tone. Mirai frowned. He was as unhumorous as ever.

“Hello. I apologize for calling you during the day, I am sure as the new number one hero you are very busy.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Mirai wasn’t sorry at all to have interrupted Endeavor in whatever he was doing, he only said it to give him an opportunity to be gracious or humorous or show any sign of charisma at all.

“I am busy. What do you want?”

Strike one. “All Might told me you were asking for advice about how to be the new Symbol of Peace. As his former sidekick, I thought I might offer my own insight into the issue.” Endeavor was quiet, so Mirai plowed ahead. “Is there a time and place we could meet?”

“I have some time later this evening. Come by my agency at eight.”

No offer to come to him, which in another other situation Mirai would consider rude, especially given his current state, but it was nice to have at least one person who didn’t treat him like fragile goods. A mark in the positives, but it was a hesitant one.

“Very well. I will see you then.”

* * *

Mirai sat across from Endeavor, his pale suit hanging a little looser and the lines under his eyes a little deeper than usual, but other than that he looked as put together as ever. He didn’t use his wheelchair, but did take his cane. For all his bluster that he was fine, walking was an exertion these days and the cane helped.

Endeavor stared him down from across the table. He seemed to be struggling to find something to say. Mirai simply stared him down and remained stubbornly quiet in order to force him to say something first.

“You are looking well,” Endeavor managed at last in a forced polite tone.

“Thank you,” Mirai replied. “I recently lost ten pounds.” He reached over and shook his empty sleeve. Endeavor paled at the reference to his injury and remained silent. “That was a joke,” Mirai said, letting the sleeve fall to his side again.

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

He sighed. He knew his sense of humor often came as a surprise to people, but that should have at least elicited a laugh of surprise. Strike two.

“You said you had some advice for me?” Endeavor began.

Mirai cut him off. “I will be blunt with you, Endeavor. I do not think you deserve the number one spot. I do not think you are capable of being the symbol of peace that people need right now. In short, I find you lacking of any charisma or humor at all. You are completely and totally unworthy of the position given to you.”

Endeavor’s flames rose a little higher on his shoulders as his scowl deepened. He stood up so fast he knocked over his chair. “How dare you,” he roared. “You come in here under the pretense of help to insult me?”

Strike three. He was unmoved by his display of anger and he watched him with clinical indifference, like a scientist observing a volatile but predictable chemical reaction. “It is not an insult if it is a statement of fact.” His gold eyes were hard and cold as he stared him down. “I am aware of your track record of being unnecessarily violent when subduing villains. I am also aware of your...questionable treatment of your family.”

He recoiled a bit. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I may not be able to be a hero any more, but I can still do math. Your children are all exactly four years apart, almost as if you were more interested in manufacturing a favorable quirk mixture than being a father. Not to mention the fact that your wife has been in a mental institution for the past six years. Honestly, based on your behavior in these past few minutes I am surprised you didn’t drive her to madness sooner.”

Endeavor was on him before he could blink, lifting him out of his chair by the front of his suit. Mirai could feel the heat from his flames on his face. “You shut your mouth--” Whatever obscenities he had left to say were silenced as the top of Mirai’s cane slammed into his gut. He let the thin man go and Miria spun the cane around and jabbed him in the throat. He stumbled away, clutching his neck. The hit hadn’t broken anything, but it had traumatized his larynx enough to give Miria a few moments of silence. Endeavor was lucky, if Mirai had been in peak physical condition the blow would have crushed his windpipe.

He stepped back and straightened out his suit coat. “All Might wasn’t just a hero when the cameras were on him. He was always kind and caring, no matter how tired he was or how vile the villain before him. To him, every life had value. Even now, as a retired hero, he shows compassion towards brash, violent heroes like you who think strength is all it takes to be a symbol of hope and light.”

Endeavor let out an angry wheeze, but had no other reply.

“You are unworthy Endeavor. And unless you can find a way to change your nature, I am afraid that is how you will remain.” He turned and made his way towards the door.

“Wait,” Endeavor called. His voice was strained and strangled, but he appeared to have recovered from Mirai’s attack. “Tell me what I have to do. All Might said I need to find my own path, but I don’t know what that means.”

Mirai’s expression was as stern as his tone. “Grow a spine and stop being so afraid of what people think of you.”

* * *

It didn’t take long for word to get around about Mirai’s visit to the Endeavor agency. Toshinori of course was appalled. “I understand that it’s your nature to speak your mind,” he scolded him. “But you can’t impose your vision of what a symbol should look like on other people.”

They sat in front of the teacher’s dorm at UA. Mirai had come to see Eri and Midoriya for the first time since his discharge from the hospital. He watched Eri laugh and smile as she ran after Mirio. Some other members of class A were joining in on the impromptu game of tag out on the lawn and Mirai and Toshinori stood off to the side. Mirai watched how kind and gentle Midoriya was as he played with Eri and his classmates. It was a far cry from the nervous, stammering boy who stood in his office a month ago.

“I already apologized to Midoriya for my harsh assessment of him,” Mirai replied.

Toshinori spat up a bit of blood in surprise. Sir Nighteye very rarely apologized and rarely did he apologize for his assessment of a person. “This is not about Young Midoriya. This is about Endeavor. I understand your concerns, but isn't it better that people have an imperfect symbol than nothing?”

“If he stepped down, they wouldn’t have the lack of a symbol, but a better one. Any other hero in the top ten could do a better job than Endeavor. Except perhaps Hawks.”

“What’s wrong with Hawks?” he replied. “I would have thought of all of the heroes in the top ten you would like him the most.”

“He is humorous and young, yes. But I’ve heard him openly admit he dislikes All Might and that automatically makes him untrustworthy.”

Toshinori sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You are as insufferable as ever, aren’t you?” His tone was soft and endearing as he said it. It was a phrase Mirai heard often when they had worked together.

He smiled. “That is who I am.”

Toshinori looked at him and realized he was texting on his phone. “Are you even paying attention to me?” he asked.

“I am. I heard every word. I can listen to you and send Endeavor anonymous texts at the same time.”

“You’re what?” He tried to grab the phone from him, but Mirai was faster and he kept it out of his reach. “Where did you even get his personal number?”

“I gave it to him,” Todoroki said. They looked up and saw he had managed to walk up to them without either of them noticing.

Toshinori took advantage of the moment to snatch the phone out of Mirai’s hands. “Young Todoroki, no matter what Sir Nighteye might have said to you…”

“He didn’t ask me for it,” he replied. “After he told my old man off, I asked Midoriya to pass the number along to Sir Nighteye.” He nodded to him. “Thank you for what you’ve been doing.”

Toshinori scrolled through the conversation, which were all just messages Mirai had sent. Endeavor hadn’t replied even once. It appeared to be a thorough critique of every fight public villain incident Endeavor had been involved in for the past few weeks. Some of the texts were actually very constructive. Others were more...belligerent.

“So he has been getting them,” Mirai replied. “I’ve been worried that they weren’t going through.”

“Don’t worry. He’s been getting them.” Todoroki smiled. “It’s almost all he can talk about anymore. He knows it’s you but he also knows he can’t do anything to get you to stop.”

“Tell him I will lose his number the moment he stops being a self-centered man child.”

Toshinori put the phone in his pocket with a deep sigh. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“Me?” Todoroki asked.

“No, Sir Nighteye. I know exactly what I’m going to do with you.” He puffed up into his All Might form. “Extra laps at training for the next week!”

He shrugged. “Alright.” He bowed slightly. “It was nice to meet you, Sir Nighteye.”

“And you, Young Todoroki.”

As soon as he left, Mirai pulled out a second phone and continued texting. Toshinori gaped at him. “If you had a second phone, then why did you put up all of that fight?”

“My doctor said I need more exercise.”

The joke made him laugh, louder and longer than he had in a long time. He put a hand on Mirai’s shoulder. “I missed you.”

He smiled up at him. “I missed you too.”

#bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #sir nighteye #mirai sasaki #all might #toshinori yagi

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dickspeightjrs · 4 years

Text

Hunter Husbands (canon / 1k words)

ao3 link

It was meant to be a routine hunt. Just quickly wipe out a vamp nest that had been terrorising a small town in Ohio and be back in time to catch America’s Got Talent. (Dean was sure the singing dog would win. Castiel and Sam weren’t so certain, they were rooting for the showjumping show choir.)

Sam had offered to go with Dean and Castiel to help out. Dean had declined his offer politely but immediately, stressing that it was a simple hunt and, despite Castiel being almost fully human now, the two of them would be able to handle it. Sam had just given Dean a knowing look that Dean glared at and then otherwise ignored.

Now, Dean wishes he hadn’t been too quick to stop Sam from coming along - even if it had meant losing some alone time with Cas.

The vampire nest turned out to be much bigger and stronger than any of them had predicted.

In what was meant to be an initial recon mission to scope the place out before returning later with a more detailed outlook of the area, and therefore the upper hand, Dean and Castiel had been ambushed.

Vampires seemed to be appearing as if from nowhere. Luckily, they’d had the foresight to bring a little protection. Each man wielded a sharp knife that helped in the defence against the monsters. But, the vampires had taken over an abandoned warehouse so Dean and Castiel had to navigate the large space while fighting off some pissed off, blood-thirsty vamps.

With a hard swing and grunt, Castiel smoothly slices the final vampire’s head clean off her shoulders. He turns to find Dean wiping his blade clean on the sleeve of a slain vamp.

The hunter sighs and moves towards Castiel. “Why can’t all vamps be like Benny? Swear we almost got wiped by those bastards.”

Still high on the adrenaline of the battle, and fueled a little by jealousy at the mention of Dean’s vampire friend, Castiel reaches out a hand to grab Dean by the shirt and pull him into a crushing, passionate kiss.

They remain locked in an intimate embrace for a few heated seconds, until Castiel suddenly pulls away. They still remain close enough for their breaths to mingle in the small space between them.

“Why’d you pull away?” Dean asks, panting, and trying to catch his breath.

Castiel tightens his grip on Dean’s shirt. His other hand subtly flexes around the handle of the knife he still has hold of.

“There is a vampire hiding behind the pillar over there.” Castiel’s eyes look to an area just above Dean’s shoulder.

Dean turns his head to look in that direction but Castiel’s hand shoots up to Dean’s cheek, moving the man’s head back so green eyes connect again with blue.

The figure moves from behind the pillar, Castiel notices from the corner of his eye. If the situation wasn’t so tense, Castiel would have rolled his eyes. He may be almost human now, but he still trusts his senses. A sneaking vampire could never fool him.

“He’s getting closer,” Castiel whispers, “at the count of three, duck down, understand?”

Dean opens his mouth to protest - probably to say something about not being a damn damsel in distress who needs saving - but Castiel hits him with a glare that makes him snap his mouth shut. He knows when he’s been told.

“Okay.” Castiel says. The vampire must be directly behind Dean now, Castiel can’t see him but he can still sense him approaching. He takes a deep breath, looks into Dean’s eyes to make sure they’re on the same page. Dean nods. “Three, two, ONE!”

Dean drops to the floor just as the vampire was about to reach out for his neck. The movement catches the monster off guard for a split second, which allows Castiel the time to lift his knife through the air and, with all of his strength, slice through the neck of the bastard. The slight resistance of the metal against the vampire’s spinal cord sends a small thrill of satisfaction through Castiel. No one, especially a despicable creature like a vampire, would get to Dean. They’d have to get through Castiel first, every time.

The red mist clears from Castiel’s vision and he drops the tension from his shoulders. Dean is still on the ground, out of breath from the adrenaline rushing through his system but otherwise unharmed. Only now, he has a spattering of blood across his face.

Castiel reaches out a hand to help Dean to his feet. Dean grips his hand and heaves himself up from the concrete.

Once on his feet and standing up against his angel again, Dean turns to look at the decapitated remains of the vamp. But he frowns when he can’t spot the guy’s head. A quick search finds it a few meters away.

Dean makes an impressed whistle, “Wow, Cas, you really smoked his ass.” He turns to face Cas and pulls him closer by the lapel of his trenchcoat. “It was super hot, not gonna lie, dude.”

Dean grins cockily, and leans in to pull his boyfriend into a kiss.

But Castiel steps backwards away from the hunter.

Dean’s face falls. “Why’d you pull away this time?” He pouts.

“Because you’re covered in vampire blood,” Castiel explains, reaching up to wipe at a drop of blood on Dean’s face. “And, honestly, you smell. You need a shower.” Castiel’s nose scrunches up.

Dean pulls a face. “Yeah, well, y-you smell too!” He tries to counter.

Castiel gives Dean a look that says” that was terrible and you know it. He turns on his heel and starts to make his way across the warehouse, heading towards the exit.

Dean remains where he’s stood, pouting over his failed comeback. Until, a sly smile appears on his lips. He runs to catch up with Castiel.

“Fine! I’ll take a shower before you kiss me again.” He relents. “But only if you join me.” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. He reaches Castiel and puts an arm around his neck, pulling the angel in to place a peck on his temple.

“You’re insatiable.” Castiel playfully pushes Dean away, rolling his eyes affectionately.

Dean’s responding laugh echoes through the empty warehouse.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it!

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill!

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover @aelysianmuse @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @2musiclover2

(let me you if you’d like to be removed from future fics - or added if you’re not already there! we don’t have to be mutuals)

#destiel #destiel fic #destielfanficnet #dean winchester #castiel #myfic #fluff #canon #1k #established relationship #protective!cas #just a quick one I wrote this morning before work #i quite like it so i hope others do too!

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snickiebear · 3 years

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yo nadia <3333 i'm bored in my online classes and u reblogged the questions thingy at the right time lmao, so get ready: 1, 4, 5, 9, 10, 17, 23, 24, 28, 30!!!, 34, 38, 39, 40 (the intimacy of being understood) (imma stop here lol) (also i'm sorry u're not feeling well, ily and hope u'll feel better soon!! <33333)

ELE ILY. (and thank you, i’m stayin home today cause,,, yeah. i appreciate you sm.) you’re the literal best, i adore you.

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

The first fanfiction i read was for The Lunar Chronicles when I was like 11?? and it was 100% on accident and it scarred me because it was a hardcore porn one with a period kink and i was like WHAT IS THIS??? OH MY GOD???? LMAOOOOO i didn’t pick it back up until i was 13-14 and really got into the Fairy Tail fandom. I still reread my favorites on ff.net cause i love them.

As for writing, I wrote a horrible, terrible x-men fanfiction when I was twelve. (my friend still brings it up and REFUSES to delete it so it still gets comments and views, that shit HAUNTS ME ELE.) then tried again for Fairy Tail, posted like two chapters before taking it down cause i wasn’t really feeling it. And then I posted The Intimacy Of Being Understood and here we are.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

OMGG okok

@murd3rm1ttens ‘s The Problem How Time Works IF YOU HAVENT READ THIS YOU GUYS NEED TO HOP ON IT ASAP. MITTEN’S WRITING SO SO SO SO GOOD. SAKURA AND INO ARE TOTAL BADASSES. KAKASHI IS A SIMPPPP. ITS SO FUCKING GOOD.

@mouseymightymarvellous ‘s We Were Screaming In Color (Only A Possibility) yes, yes I KNOW. i always point into mousey’s direction but i WILL always advocate that everyone reads her fics, they’re literally so beautiful???? i just happen to be rereading WWSIN rn

@safelycapricious ‘s Shaking Up And Breaking Down series. I found this like?? idfk but i’ve been raving about it ever since. ALSO CHECK OUT THEIR FICS IN GENERAL.

fuck i have more than three but also check out @ambivalens999 ‘s Masks

i do wanna make a fic rec thing where i just rav about my favs,,, might do that later or sum

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

Omniscient third person. I don’t like it. Like I can understand that it can be a little hard to stay in one person’s perspective but, in my opinion, if you can, it shows how disciplined you are as a writer. Plus, i just get so confused when I go from A’s thoughts to suddenly what B is thinking about A.

When writers use ‘ ‘ instead of “ “. When writers put thoughts in ‘ ‘ instead of just italicizing them. It’s small things but like they just bother me sO MUCH. most of the time i can ignore it and try to enjoy but other times i just dip.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

@espoir-et-reves !!!!! THEIR SHISAKU FICS ARE SO SO SO SO SO GOOD. And they have a warring states one going on THAT I AM SO OBSESSED WITH.

@writer168 idk if they’re really “underrated” but THEY HAVE SUCH GREAT FICS ON AO3. Like theres an AU with sakura, kiba, and shino that i reread constantly because it just. is. so. fucking. GOOD. and they posted a new one that i’m YELLING about.

@eggtoasties okay they only have 2 in the naruto fandom (one shisaku which is still ongoing) BUT THEIR WRITING STYLE IS SO NICE?? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT. I still go back and reread their shikasaku one cause UGH i can’t get enough. I love it.

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Fandoms: Naruto, Soul Eater, The Old Guard, ATLA

Parings: KakaSaku/ShikaSaku/ShiSaku/MultiSaku, SoMa, Joe X Nicky, Zukka

Character: SAKURA. I will read anything with Sakura as the main character and her being a fuckin badass or becoming a badass. I love her.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

aha.. haha.. well. I check my email like three times an hour. its the first thing i check in the mornings too. I’m literally a whore for praise and literally eat up feedback like its going out of style. I also reread a lot of my stuff because i make so many mistakes and spelling errors, or the spacing is weird oR SOMETHING. plus, literally any and all comments make my day, i go back and reread them cause they just make me feel so tingly and warm like “wow. this person enjoyed the fic/my writing enough to tell me. thats HUGE!”

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

Angry, feral, bloodied, morally gray women. They aren’t bad guys, they’re probably the good guy, but that doesn’t mean they cant be fucking raging at the world with raw knuckles and blood on their teeth. I just love an angry woman who struggles with her emotions and just has so much inner conflict but that doesn’t take away from her character or badassery, it adds to it.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

The fake dating or miscommunication troupe. LIKE GUYS JUST TALK. AND TELL EACH OTHER OMFG. the entire like obliviousness of “nah they dont like me” while the They holds their hand and kisses their cheek. MOFO WHAT. it makes me so impatient and like mad HAAHHAHA. its probably because i’m a pretty confrontational person so seeing stuff like that just “cmon bro, USE YO HEAD.”

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

I have yet to receive a negative comment! Which i was really surprised about tbh. As for deadlines or pressure to update, i just kind of do whatever. I do set goals, but i set them flexible enough that hey, if i can’t do it, that’s okay.

I have a lot of mini goals, like “i want to write this chapter and get it done this week” and then the large goal is “FINISH BY END OF MAY” so i have time.

Actually, now that I think on it, the entire pressure to update thing is probably why i’m waiting until I have all of OL&W written to post it weekly,, cause well. I wouldn’t wanna leave you guys waiting as I tried to write and work out the next chapters and stuff, you know?

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

AAAAAA YOU KNOW I LOVE THESE AHAHAHAH

Have you seen the way the dead dance, World Breaker? They roar, half mad and starving. Do you not wish, do you not hope to see them twist and bend and dance to your will?

Shikamaru snarls, looking behind his shoulders to where his Shadows lay. “Patience.” He spits. “Is of the essence, Things of Ancient. Know your place as the dark you are.”

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

None of my experiences match up to anything I write tbh,,, probably the only thing that is me in my writing is maybe the emotional turmoil? I’m pretty emotionally and mentally mature because from a pretty young age i started forming my own opinions, started looking into the world around us and being like “dude what the fuck this is not what disney advertised”. Then i started talking (read: arguing and debating) with my dad about a lot of it. So, like emotions are kind of hard for me. Like i’m pretty good at controlling them or understanding them, but still. idk its hard to explain ig.

Like the weight of stress, the anger, the sadness. It’s kind of therapeutic to write. Cause i don’t know how to put those feelings to verbal words so writing them really helps.

As for my readers’ image? Probably like some kind of hunched over figure typing away in the dark with a maniacal grin on their face. I honestly don’t know AHHAHAHA but it is fun to think about. I think they’d see me as someone with potential but a lot of room to grow and someone who is imperfect but in a charming way LMAOOOO

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

I’m gonna be real honest. Its probably like a 2. I’m a bit of a control freak so I almost always go in chronological order, my writing is pretty linear. Unless, i get bored and jump to one of my fav parts. It's pretty much i sit down, i open the doc, read over my notes and just start writing.

It’s a little boring to explain AHAHAHA but once i get into the groove of things its really fucking great, I can like feel myself in the world, I can feel what i want the characters to, i love it. I catch myself mouthing the words as i type too, which i find hilarious.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

I rather like how raw my writing is sometimes. Which might sound really vain, but i do like the way i word things or describe things. I love juxtaposition and repetition, or making a good ole circle back to some minute detail that wouldn’t stand out until i repeat it at the end and you’re like “omg” AHAHAHAHA.

Like those little poetic snippets or certain wording i just sit back and go “damn thats kinda good nadia! go you!’ HAHAHA

40. How did you come up with the idea for The Intimacy Of Being Understood?

AAAAA this fic is like my first child, my pride and joy LMAO

so the idea initially came when i was reading some fic, idk if it was even naruto, but i was like “i don't like this, but i do like the rain symbolism.” And I knew i wanted to write something kind of slow paced, something a little sad and angsty, but would show KakaSaku slowly but surely falling in love.

Idk if you’ve noticed but a lot of my fics, the pairings don’t change each other dramatically. They accept each other as they are and then they grow with together. Like that acceptance is something i just love writing, its so subtle, it isn’t something you declare. Its simply “I am going to love you. I am going to love you despite your flaws and faults. I am going to love you unconditionally because I know you, I understand you, and there is nothing you could do to drive me away.”

The fic kind of wrote itself after that first scene. I kept going back to the rain, go being ghosts, and resurrection, and the small epiphanies one gets. I wanted to focus on each character’s growth with each other. They didn’t find light in life because of each other, but with each other. And i think that’s my favorite thing about that fic.

I wanted something raw and real and just something beautiful. I’m actually really proud of it tbh. Would i go back and rewrite/edit it? Oh of course! I’d do that with every single one of my fics, but i’m not gonna cause i think its in its rawest form right now. :))))

ask me shit plz

#silly things from silly friends

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dramaticviolincrescendo · 3 years

Text

Thank you for tagging me @gallavictorious ! 🧡 It’s been a bit since I had the time or energy for writing, but it was fun to go back through things for this.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,527,620

3. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Somnus Ultima (FFXV)

The Seven Soulmate Commandments (Shameless)

Royal Protocol (FFXV)

Unashamed (Shameless)

Lips Sealed (Shameless)

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Ordinarily, I do. I have a bit of a backlog right now that I need to get to. I’ve always been of the mind that if someone took the time to provide feedback, I can find the time to thank them. Unfortunately, that sometimes means being…months behind now. There will be some surprised people when I get through my inbox who’ve probably already forgotten they read my work.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

World So Cold, the first story of a Captain America/Harry Potter AU trilogy that nobody asked for but I had a great time tormenting the five people who read it with.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Honor Bound, the one and only “fix-it” fic I have ever written and will ever write. This is what happens when you take a fantastic concept, grind it up over years of production team changes and company overhauls, and throw together the scraps that remain.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I’m not really a huge fan of crossovers, personally. I prefer to place characters in a different setting, like that Captain America/Harry Potter AU trilogy I mentioned. That said, my only crossover was Cabin Fever, which…may or may not count since dreams are involved.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I wouldn’t call it “hate,” but I’ve had a couple of people comment with criticism that I wouldn’t exactly count as constructive. I tend to ignore it and agree to disagree on our preferences.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. Never. Not in this life or the next. Finding ways to avoid writing it in the Shameless fandom was difficult but, fortunately, I succeeded.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To my knowledge, no.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, though someone did offer to translate into German once. (That Captain America/Harry Potter AU just keeps coming back to haunt me today…) I declined since I would prefer to have the opportunity to check and make sure none of the meaning was lost but don’t speak German.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

On three occasions, yes. There was one I sincerely hope has been lost to the bowels of the internet, Royal Protocol with @irregularrogue , and (How to Break the) Alibi Armistice with @gallavictorious . (She’s got the link in her post!)

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

…To write? Uh. Well. I honestly don’t enjoy writing ships very much… Romance isn’t as interesting to me as other relationships, so I think I’ll cop out and just say if there’s bromance, I’m game.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I…think that I am coming to accept that In Pieces may remain unfinished. I stopped at a point where I’d actually be comfortable making that the official “ending,” but I absolutely hate that…I’ve simply lost steam. That’s what happens when you write fifteen lengthy stories in just a few months, I guess. Ordinarily, having detailed outlines helps me stay focused when I start getting tired, but the content and rapidly deteriorating coherence of Ian’s perspective has really weighed on me to the point where I took a break and never really recovered the same energy I had for it. I’m still hoping to get back to it someday, but whether that will actually happen, I can’t say. Good thing it wasn’t really getting much traffic—I’d feel even worse if I was disappointing even more people than I may already be.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do well with keeping a story flowing. I tend to write from specific perspectives and make the narrative sound like an internal monologue, which can limit the amount of information a reader receives but makes it fun to only show what the character knows. I believe I’m also pretty good at making ordinary thoughts sound a little prettier by using different words. I just don’t like reusing the same phrases over and over.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

In connection with the previous question, I can get too wordy. What I could say with one sentence can take me a paragraph to get out. Sometimes that’s called for, especially if the character is in a position where they’re rambling to themselves, but sometimes it’s unnecessary.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If I have a character speaking another language, I’ll usually put it in italics and indicate that they’re speaking another language. (…Like all the Russian in my Captain America/Harry Potter AU. I haven’t thought of that series in YEARS, yet here we are.) I don’t trust that Google translate will provide an accurate translation that would stand up to scrutiny by those who actually speak the language, and it can really detract from a story as a reader to keep scrolling to the bottom to see what the footnotes say. To each their own, but that’s my system.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter back on good ol’ MuggleNet Fanfiction. They’re all still there, too!

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

My brain…doesn’t work that way, unfortunately. I only write for fandoms that I fixate on, so there really isn’t any casual fanfiction for me. I’ve wanted to write Kingdom Hearts fanfiction for years, but it’s so compelling and complex as it is that I can never think of what I’d write for it and have therefore done very little despite it being my first and longest-standing fandom. Typically, though, the desire to write smacks me in the face when I consume something new and have that “oh…I need more…oh no” moment.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I would say it’s a tie between Somnus Ultima and the Light in the Shadows series (you guessed it—the Captain America/Harry Potter AU). While the former can be wordy and the latter is obviously one of my older works, what they have in common is that they required the most creativity. The rest of my fics tend to be canon compliant (or had better be for the endless research I put into them) and feel like playing in someone else’s sandbox. Those felt like taking multiple sandboxes, pulling them apart, and creating a brand new sandbox from the various pieces. I’m more proud of them than I can say.

I don’t really know many fic writers on a basis where I’d feel comfortable tagging them, so I send this out to just @glon-morski , @gardenerian , and @mrs-monaghansblog if you so desire! 🧡

#tag meme #it me #fanfiction

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thenextchapter22 · 3 years

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To Be Loved by Lucifer

Description: Mika is upset to find out she has gained weight yet again and cannot fit into her clothes. She tries to lose weight by starving herself among other things and Lucifer is not pleased.

Warnings: NSFW, Eating Disorders, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Panic Attacks, Corporal Punishment, Insecurity, Plus Sized OFC

Pairing(s): Lucifer/OFC

Word Count: 7,499

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Author’s Notes: Despite the tags, there is some fluff involved as well! And if you ever feel like you aren’t good enough or the right size, just remember you are loved and please please do not copy anything in this fic because, it is just that - fictional.

_+_

“No!” Mika cried out. “No way!”

She pulled and yanked but it did not move. It was stuck. No force in the Celestial Realm or Devildom could help her now.

This could not be happening to her. She was just having a bad dream. Mika would wake up and it would be fine.

But alas, it was no dream. She was really in her bedroom in Devildom, getting ready for Monday morning classes. Just a regular morning like the others… or it was supposed to be.

Her uniform skirt was not buttoning up. She had gotten fat enough to not fit. The reasoning was all the midnight snacks with Beel no doubt, and that was 100 percent her own fault. She should have paid more attention to her own body.

She tried one more time, grunting as she tugged with all her might, she could handle sitting too straight and sucking in her gut for a few days until she lost the weight again. But then the button actually popped off. Shot across the room, hit the wall, and fell to the floor. Mika stared at it like the button had committed murder. And she stared some more, until her eyes burned with incoming tears. She felt frustration boil in her belly, then immediate anger at herself.

Yes, she was a bit bigger than the average woman, a “plus size” to be exact. When Mika first came to the Devildom, surrounded by seven sexy demons who she immediately wanted to fuck but did not have the confidence to say anything, she was insecure in her size. But over the months here with them all, they had gotten to know her and made her feel good inside and out with kind words and gentle touches that eventually turned into more with most of the brothers. She realized she was more than her weight. She was comfortable in her skin for the first time in her life, and it was demons of hell that made her feel good ironically.

So this, this sudden weight gain, it broke her emotionally. It was like she was starting over and all the work she had put into herself was gone in a snap. Every kind word the demon brothers had said to her when she down about her appearance vanished into pure hatred for how disgusting she was once more.

How much weight was it? She couldn’t tell just squeezing her belly between her fingers. It was only her belly, too, because her boobs still fit into her bras, and her shirts fit fine, too, but they were looser around her belly anyways. Maybe 10 pounds or so? Mika wished there was a scale so she would know exactly.

Mika groaned, wiping her wet eyes and scrubbing her cheeks roughly. This was terrible. She would not be going to RAD today, and probably not tomorrow either. She couldn’t let anyone see her so fat. Plus, she would have to go in something other than the uniforms she owned and that would probably get her sent home and Lucifer would reprimand her.

No, she was not going. She was going to starve herself for a couple days and feign illness. She would need to lose this weight fast, so not eating for a few days sounded like a good plan.

Oh fuck. She’d have to lie to Lucifer.

“I hate myself.”

She plopped back onto her bed, her DDD above her face. She sighed heavily and opened the chat with Lucifer.

Hey, I’m not feeling too well this morning, gonna skip classes today. Sorry. I’ll make up for any lost work I promise.

She felt like she was texting her boss, not her... lover. Ugh, she was so nervous he would totally be able to tell she was lying. And usually she was a good liar, but to Lucifer, she just was bad at it. Well, Mika couldn’t take it back now.

The DDD beeped. Lucifer replied. She bit her lip, dreading what he would say.

I’m on my way to your room

“Fuck!”

She threw her phone down and groaned again. This was awful. Not only did she look terrible from crying, she was huge now. Mika did not want the eldest to see her this way.

Plus, Lucifer was probably going to punish her. And not in the sexy way. But in the painful way where she wouldn’t be able to sit for days without squirming and getting looks from the other demons in the house and school.

There was a knock on her door. “Mika, may I come in?”

“Um… just a second,” she called out.

Frantic, Mika grabbed a pair of pants from the floor and threw them on. She would just have to fake it and hope.

Lucifer eyed her as soon as she opened her door. He did not look impressed, arms crossed in his RAD uniform. “You don’t look ill. What’s wrong?”

Shit. “I…”

“Yes?” he raised his brows, his lips pursing just so. Her mouth opened and nothing came out. He sighed. “Don’t waste my time. I have piles of paperwork to sign off on today.”

And that, right there, was all it took. She could not do it. She would not lie to him. She had done so once, with Belphie, and it turned out to be the worst choice she had ever made and it nearly ended up with her dead.

She sighed. “I can’t lie to you.”

He uncrossed his arms, and titled his head down at her. “Well, it seems you already did.”

She winced. “I know.” She invited him inside to talk, an inevitable really if she had thought more into it and just not sent the stupid text, and he sat on her bed. Mika sat beside him, silent for a few seconds. Hands in her lap, barely thinking of anything, simply gathering courage to speak her mind.

Before she could speak, Lucifer cupped her cheek, turning her head just so, and wiped his gloved thumb under her eye gently. The tense atmosphere he gave off was gone and in replace of that was concern, especially in his eyes which were almost always telling to her what he was feeling. “You were crying recently. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She sniffled. His hand was warm, and comforting. “It’s hard to say…”

He frowned. “Please understand that I will always be here for you, Mika. Whatever you need me to be for you I can, whether that’s a lover, or just somebody to talk with. You must know that. So tell me. Why can you not come to classes today? The sick excuse is something Mammon even rarely uses any longer.”

She just spit it out. “I’m…disgusting.”

“Mika!” He held her face tighter, and stared into her eyes with great intensity. It was like she could feel his eyes burning into her own, an invisible beam cutting into her deepest insecurity. Lucifer looked at her like she disappointed him and it ached.

“Do not ever speak of yourself that way again. I won’t tolerate lies.”

Mika’s emotions were going haywire. She was angry at him, angry at herself. “It’s not a lie, Lucifer.” She stood up, practically wrenching her face from his grip, and stormed over to her closet. She grabbed a RAD skirt and threw it onto the floor, and did it with several others, making a pile of discarded clothes as she ranted. “I’m fat as fuck right now! I can’t fit into any of my skirts for school and a button literally popped off of it. You know how long it took me to even cope with this overweight body I have?! Honestly I really don’t think I ever did! I’ve always been ugly. And I always will be ugly!”

He was at her side in seconds, holding her close, hushing her, pressing her face into his chest with his large hand. She sobbed into his arms, clutching the back of his jacket, albeit rubbing her wet snotty face into his nice uniform.

“My love, you are so, so beautiful. Your soul shines brighter than any other I have met. There is nothing I would not do to protect you from harm, even from your own foolish words.” She gasped as he said this, but he went on. “I don’t know what else I could say to make you love yourself like I do.” His fingers found her chin from where it was buried in his shirt, and he pulled her face to look up at him. There was something akin to pity, she assumed, lingering there in his expression. “You know I can and should punish you for this, correct? I have said many times I will not allow lies in this house.”

Her throat was tight, she could barely swallow. She nodded as best she could in her position. “Yes,” she murmured. It was what she dreaded. He did always comfort her, made her feel treasured, but in the moment she would feel ultimately continuously guilty for whatever she had done to deserve the reprimand.

“Good, as you well should. But,” he continued, “I believe you have punished yourself enough. I think I should show you just how much you mean to me instead. Show you just how absolutely stunning I think you are.” He went from punisher, to seducer in an instant.

“Wha—Lucifer!” She gasped as she was grabbed around her waist and tossed onto her bed, bouncing on the mattress. “What are you…”

He looked determined, and a bit mischievous which was one of her favorite Lucifer’s (up there with domineering). Those subtle shifts in his lips, and his brows, it took her some time to figure out just what each expression meant. “I adore you, Mika. Let me show you.”

She gulped, and nodded slowly. “Okay, show me.” She spoke quietly. If he wanted to touch her, let him. Maybe it would help her. She wouldn’t know until he tried.

Lucifer got to work on removing her clothing. First her shirt, which he gently unbuttoned and pulled over her head. She shook out the frizz that came with that and he smiled at her.

This moment felt so intimate, more than any of the last few times they had sex. The last time it was in celebration of an exam she got a near perfect score on and he praised her over and over again.

No, this moment felt almost virginal. She was in a bad place, and vulnerable to every word he would say. She realized this was almost like their first time, when he was gentle and slow with her despite her saying she had been with men before. But he didn’t care, because demons were not the same as human men.

She had been very shy then, but still a spitfire when told off. It was how she had always been. She was introverted at times, afraid to speak her mind in fear of rejection or failure, but then she was also adamant and spoke louder than any other on certain days and for certain things.

And with him, she could be innocent. She could be fierce. She could be anything she desired to be. He let her take control and let her be controlled whenever she wanted. Because she was a human and he was a demon; it was why he gave her a pact with him. To show ‘ultimate love’, Asmo once said to her. A pact from a demon was a bond not unlike love. It was, in fact, the greatest way to show it.

“Darling, pay attention now.”

Lucifer’s teasing voice had Mika startled, coming back from her thoughts. “Y-yes. Sorry.” She blushed.

He chuckled. “It’s quite all right, it’s positively endearing when your eyes glaze over as you think.”

His adept hands found her bra, hands stroking over her back and causing goosebumps before un-clasping, letting it fall and tossing it away. Her room wasn’t cold, Devildom never was really, but she felt her nipples harden instantly.

He stared at her for a moment, admiring the beauty of her pale voluptuous body, before he pushed her back onto the bed.

She went easily. Head cushioned by her pillows, she watched him lick his lips. His presence was calming, but had her nerves prickling in wonder at what he was going to do next. His uniform brushed against her nude upper half as he lowered his body over hers to kiss her mouth. The taste of him always made her feel lightheaded.

Her hands itched to touch him, but she kept them at her side, obedient. He always would tell her when she could touch, he had drilled that into her from day one, and she realized he probably wasn’t going to allow it today because he wanted to show her how much he “adored” her. She really knew him too well but that wasn’t something she would say aloud to him.

Lucifer was an amazing kisser, so much so that her thoughts were nonexistent as he licked against her lips before delving into her mouth. She focused on his vibrating hums tickling her lips, and listened to their soft moans melding together. He wasn’t overly gentle, but she had to press up against his mouth to feel a bit more of him, smell and taste him.

His hands found her breasts while he expertly used his tongue to brush against her own. He pinched her nipples, tugging the pert buds while cupping her tits with his bare hands—and when did that happen, fuck skin to skin contact was the best— causing her to exhale harshly into his own mouth as he bounced them a bit.

He leaned away for a second to say, “Ah, so soft in my hands.”

She squirmed. She was softer, and that meant fatter. “I know…” she said sorrowfully.

He pinched her nipple harshly then in reprimand, and she groaned, pushing her chest upward into the pressure. “No, darling. No.” He growled. “I love your body. Every single inch. And I meant I love how smooth your skin feels against my own.”

The hot mouth traveled down her neck, suckling more as it went, not enough to leave marks but enough to leave her breathless. He licked a line down from her neck which she happily bared for him. One hand left her breast to stroke over her waist, and in place of pinching fingers was his tongue and teeth. Tugging with fervor, suckling and getting her wet with his mouth. He blew against it, and she sucked in air, desperate sounding moans escaping her throat.

He moaned over her breast, his other hand squeezing her and flicking his thumb over her nipple repetitively. She felt it down to her toes and in her core, the tightness in her muscles from the attention. “This body is incredible, and mine to play with. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Mika whispered, head tossed back. “It’s yours.”

“And I do not lie, Mika. Correct?”

“Uh-huh,” she agreed.

“Then listen to me. You are beautiful. You are sexy. I want you to know that you deserve to feel loved, by me, and by your own self.” She cried as he abruptly went to her neck to bite nearly enough to make her bleed.

Sliding down her body from her breasts, he kissed and bit softly at her flesh, tugging here and there with his blunt teeth. Above her belly button he suckled a bit, and then slipped down more. His elegant fingers found her pants zipper to pull it down, and then he was having her lift her lower half to slip her pants off until she was only wearing her underwear, which were boxer style to help suck in her stomach. The band rested just above her belly button.

When he moved to pull down her underwear, Mika reached a hand down to stop him instantly. “Please… I…” She bit her lip, unsure. She felt amazing, truly he was making her feel so good, but this was… this was hard to do.

His eyes shone with nothing but kindness, and he spoke with a tender tone. “My love, I want to worship this body. Let me?” He kissed above her waistband, lips hovering and breathe hot against her skin. The sensation had her eyes fluttering.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want it. Because who would turn down Lucifer Morningstar? No one with at least one brain cell. Having his hands and mouth and tongue and dick anywhere on or in her was nothing short of a miracle, and that was where the problem lay. Her insecurities took hold of her tight, and started to push away any of the desire she felt like burning hot coals inside.

His dark red irises gazed up at her as he spoke, “I want to devour you.”

She shivered and moaned. He was so sexy. Her core was leaking with each second he kept position over her lower half, and he could no doubt smell its wetness. But would he find her gross to look at? She wasn’t as pretty anymore with her pudge and fat belly.

He stayed where he was, fingers lightly scratching over her body, up and down on her thick thighs. She had no problem with big thighs, the more to pull others in close when fucking she thought. But bellies shouldn’t be so pudgy, and hips shouldn’t be so squishy. Especially when you were already a bigger sized human.

“Mika. I’ll ask again.” He spoke in a husky tone, and his tongue dipped against her for a quick second like a cat lapping up a droplet of milk. He grinned devilishly. “Can I eat your pussy?” he asked, and pressed his palm right against her core, rubbing it up and down over her underwear.

“L-lucifer!” she cried out. Fuck this, she couldn’t deny anymore her neediness. Her wants for him. Her insecurities would have to wait a fucking minute for her to have a great orgasm from the Prideful Avatar’s mouth. “Yes!”

“Hm, good girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

Her underwear was tore into bits in milliseconds, Lucifer’s demon claws being used of course. She had no time to react, as his mouth was on her and he was eating her like she was his last meal.

“Lu-lucifer, yes, so—Fuck!”

He lapped at her folds, and made lewd noises as he did so. He kept her open with one hand on her upper thigh, but realized soon that he did not need to and that hand went to play with her clit, index finger rubbing in circles, pressing down against it hard. Her legs had never spread so wide before as Mika gave him full access to all of her private area.

Mika’s hips buckled upwards, head rushing and static ringing sounds in her ears. The kisses to her mouth were nothing like what he was doing to her lower body. He licked over her in an oval pattern, tongue flat and then sharp and flickering like a snake. It danced over her clit for a moment and Mika bit her lip, but he soon focused on her entrance. He pursed his lips over it, humming and dipping the tip of his tongue into her just enough to open her up and make her gush into his awaiting mouth.

Lucifer’s mouth left you, and he suddenly pressed his fingers into her, Mika’s eyes watered and she cried out from the shocking pressure that was totally filing and fantastic. She clenched around him as he worked his two fingers in and out of her for a few quick bursts, then his tongue was pushing between the digits to open her more. His fingers and tongue worked together to get her ultimately wet and open, and he hummed some more, the vibrations of his sounds causing body spasms. The single finger on her clitoris rubbed back and forth demonically fast. She was stretched open so far.

“Ah! ‘S good!” She sobbed, limbs twitching, core tightening. She would come soon, but she held off, waiting. She was obedient for him, only for him. Permission was needed. She was in a totally different headspace, one she saved for these moments alone.

The finger on her clit turned into a thumb and forefinger pinching and rubbing together. His hand fondled one of her boobs, and she could smell herself from how close it was to her face. The musk made her wetter, if even possible. His tongue left her pussy and he licked over her labia while he squeezed her sticky tit, wet from her own fluids. She glanced down at him while she could, and saw his glimmering eyes and perfect mouth against her. His teeth found her clit then, and he licked and nibbled it, never picking just one sensation. She opened her mouth and let out soft puffs of air and shook her head back and forth from overstimulation.

She needed release. She wanted it so badly.

As if he read her mind, or maybe her body, he raised his head to say in a deep dark tone, “Mika, you may come,” before biting her clit and sucking wetly with fervor as fingers pumped in and out of her.

She convulsed on his mouth, legs pushed together enough to press him into her further. She moaned loudly as her orgasm spread over her entire body, sending shockwaves of pleasure.

Once she came down from the high, Lucifer moved away from her leaking pussy. He sat back on his knees between her spread legs, uniform looking perfect still. He licked his lips and smirked wickedly, fingers dancing over his plump mouth to suckle them. “My sweet tastes so sweet.”

She groaned. “Please no.” She threw her arm over her eyes. But admittedly, that was a hot image she would forever remember.

He laughed. “I apologize.” He lay next to her, tugging her head to his collarbone. He brushed his fingers through her hair, sighing. “I hope you know now what you mean to me. And how much I dread hearing you speak lowly of yourself.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’ll try to be better.”

And she would try. Mika was feeling better. She still hated her weight gain, but Lucifer didn’t mind it, so she could mind it a little less. It bothered her but seeing how Lucifer had basically just worshiped her to show her what she meant to him, she could just as easily do this in return.

Anyone with eyes could see that Lucifer loved her in some way. But if they saw him now, not “Council Member Lucifer”, they would truly see just how much. Because that Lucifer hid himself from others, emotions were hard to show on that Lucifer, the one with a public image to maintain, the public image of Pride and being loyal to Diavolo always. Outside of this room they could kiss, hold hands, and speak caring words, but once in the presence of others, he closed off his face. He was protective, still, and caring, but it was a different type of protection and care. It was almost possessive, while in private it was gentler. His eyes were softened more.

And Mika was fine with that, she was totally fine with all sides of him. She understood. She went through tough times herself where she had to be brave or whatever else.

So she never took for granted these moments.

“Come to me when you feel this way again.”

“Okay.” She paused. “Do I have to go to RAD?” she asked, and pouted at him.

He sighed. “No, you do not have to if that is what you wish. But, if you don’t want to go to class today you must stay with me so I can keep an eye on you.”

She licked her lips. “Please, I would like that a lot.”

He kissed her cheek, then lips, and she giggled. He smiled at her blushing face. “Then it settled. Let’s clean you up and get you changed into something comfortable. Then you will gather your school work so you have something to study. I will watch over you, but I won’t have time to pay much attention to you.”

She smirked at him. “Well, I think my attention was satisfied enough for now.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad to see you feeling better, dear one. Let’s go.”

_+_

Lucifer’s study always smelt like leather and smoke, in a soft way, nothing to intense. The air was warm and soothing. Mika used to be terrified when she came in here, sometimes still was, but now she just felt tension she didn’t even know was holding her down melt away in the air.

“You may sit on the couch if you wish. If you need help, please let me know.” He sat in his large swivel chair and picked up his pen and got to work on the huge stacks that layered his desk.

She shrugged. Taking a seat in the center of the sofa, she pulled out her Demonic History and got to work. What felt like hours but was actually just one, she signed and cracked her neck from her slouched position. She glanced up and saw that Lucifer was in the same spot he had been, swishing his wrist over documents in elegant flourish. He was totally focused. Mika was not.

She felt her eyes burning from looking at the notes and work books and tiny texts that filled each page so she looked around for a moment, and fidgeted a bit with her phone, twirling it around.

“Mika, take a break. Go get some lunch.”

“But I’m not—” She looked at him, and he was not happy. His red eyes glowering, pen paused on the document before him. She swallowed, heart pounding. “I could eat. Thanks.” She stood, dropping her stuff on the sofa and table, and went to the kitchens, leaving Lucifer to do what he did best: approve and sign paperwork.

Food did not sound appealing. She knew she promised to do better, but Mika could not take how she looked, or felt. It was an awful feeling she wanted to go away. It would not be easy to hide eating less but she could do it with a big effort.

Once she reached the kitchen she got out a glass and filled it with some berry juice. She wasn’t sure what berry that was used, it was dark red and smelled acidic and had an aroma not unlike oranges which was odd as it wasn’t, you know, orange. But it didn’t poison her so she drank some.

She pulled up Devilgram and scrolled, liking some of Asmo’s posts of new outfits that looked like they were made for Billionaires in the human world, and Mammon’s picture of his face between two magazines with himself on each front cover from his modeling gigs. They looked amazing, and she never stopped being awed at how good he was at modeling. She laughed at the picture Satan posted of Belphie napping upside down on the stairs with his pillow on the bottom step and his legs straight up. He didn’t look comfortable but you couldn’t get the title of ‘Avatar of Sloth’ from nothing.

She poked at her stomach when it growled at her. “Shut. Up. No food. Only juice.” She said to it, poking the fat at her gut. It argued back and she sighed.

Lucifer would probably notice if she didn’t eat. Demon’s had great senses of smell. Also, if he asked, and she said yes but it was a lie, she would probably be punished for real this time.

Wait, she could do what her friends used to do when they wanted to fit into a dress for events and stuff. Puke it up! There was nothing else to do really, because she would not actually eat. But Mika told herself, she had to really do it. If she ate and wasn’t able to, it would be the exact opposite of what she wanted.

So she pulled out some leftovers and took a few bites. She let it settle a bit, messing on her phone, feeling fuller and grosser. Then, she went to the nearest bathroom and, after making sure no one was around, she closed the door and knelt over the toilet. She stuck her finger in her throat and gathered all her inner strength to be smaller and pressed and spewed the food out. It burned, but the feeling was gone soon enough. Mika was proud of herself. The feeling reminded her of when she was 21 and drunk, feeling done for the night at 1am, and then she vomited and was ready for 2 more hours of fun.

Her DDD said it had been over 40 minutes so that seemed enough time for a break. She went back to Lucifer’s room and knocked to be polite, he announced she could enter again.

“Did you enjoy your lunch?” he asked, still scribbling, head down.

“Yeah, had some leftovers.” She sat down and opened her text book.

“Hm. Lucky Beel didn’t eat them all last night.”

Mika laughed at that. “Yup, but the fridge was pretty bare otherwise.”

He sighed, but she saw a smile peeking out at the corner of his lips. “I’ve already got a re-stock before he comes back from RAD.”

She nodded a few times, feeling happy he didn’t realize what she had done. Guilt was building again, but she pushed it down and focused on her studies.

She did a few more sheets of work that needed to be done, and highlighted some other stuff she wanted to ask Satan about for the Potions and Spells class. Her thoughts kept wandering to what she had done, and she wanted to know more. Her phone was calling to her, so she picked it up and started searching. Key words like ‘getting thinner quick’ and ‘vomiting food’ came on her search. It was called purging, and being bulimic. Interesting, she thought, and seemed easy enough. She could do this each night after dinner! What a great idea!

“Now, Mika, this is not studying, is it?”

She gasped as her phone was taken away from her hands, Lucifer standing in front of her. He tutted, the DDD she had been tapping away on gripped loosely in his forefinger and thumb.

“I-I…” she stuttered.

He raised a brow at her, then sighed. “Oh dear. I’ll be keeping this for a while. I’ll be done shortly and I can help you if you’d like?”

She smiled. “Sure, that’d be nice. I’ll always be in need of help… especially with Demonic History.”

He chuckled. “Considering there have been many millennium of History, I would think so.” He knelt down and kissed her sweetly. “Study hard now.” He whispered, velvet lips pressed against her own.

Mika nodded as he walked away, a light tinge of pink on her face. “I promise,” she murmured.

She cracked down then on her studies once more. So much so that what felt like moments later, but was actually 10 minutes, her phone dinged with an alert and she heard nothing, focused on reading some lines in a very old book yet again.

“MIKA!”

She jumped at the fury she heard from Lucifer, it was a tone he all too often took with Mammon, but not ever her. Not like that.

He was instantly before her, a flash of Infernal magic so bright it stunned her eyes as she stared up at him, nervous and frightened at why he was so pissed off.

“What. Is. THIS.”

And he showed her the screen of the phone he confiscated away, open on an article showing vomiting and the art of being skinny by purging. Her nerves tingled, icy cold in fear, and her body shook in small tremors.

He was not supposed to know. Especially not like this.

“I-I-I d-don’t—”

The phone was gone, where Mika was not sure, and in replace of it was his face as he crouched down to her level, lines of fury prominent on his brow. His eyes dark ruby red and almost black. She could feel magic rippling around him, and saw his demonic form flashing in and out. “NO. You do NOT lie to me again, little girl.”

She gasped. His demon form was out, horns and wings and pure rage came with it. The wings at his back wide and terrifyingly black, overtaking the room. She sunk further into the couch trying to be smaller as instinct took over her like an animal in the wild. This fear was too similar, too alike to ‘that time’ and she despised it so damn much. “P-p-please, I’m sorry… don’t hurt m-me…”

She felt herself slipping into blackness. Was he killing her, was she letting him? She didn’t feel anything around her throat, or on her body anywhere at all, just the brush of the couch that felt like it was moving, back and forth, rocking. Or was that her?

And the air was gone like a snap of fingers. She was in a dark place with no fucking air. It was too hot to breathe. Nonexistent oxygen. Suffocation. Darkness. Heat. Shouldn’t darkness be cold?

“Mika. Mika.”

Lucifer called to her from a tunnel. Her eyes would not open, but he was there. She knew he was right there, but he sounded farther than before. The rage was gone, in place was a voice soft and far away like a dream.

Lucifer would always protect her, even from his own pride and anger (Satan was just the same, worried of his Wrath that never actually hurt her). She wanted him closer, even knowing he yelled at her before about her phone. That was how much she needed him. She over looked his wrong for what she needed, and she wasn’t sure what that need could have been just yet. Maybe a kiss? Or to be able to actually see him?

“Please, darling, I am so very sorry to have frightened you.”

A touch, then, gentle on her arm. Stroking up and down, tickling with the lightness of the touch. “Open your eyes. Breathe with me, that’s my good girl.” As if he grounded her with his commanding voice, air came easy then. Oxygen came in violent bursts of stinging in her lungs that faded after a few times of exhaling and inhaling until it was something normal again.

When she next became aware fully, Lucifer was surrounding her, wings and all. He was warm, she thought, like a heated blanket on a cool winter day, and his feathered wings radiated heat like his body did as it was pressed to her. Lucifer’s big hands cradled her gently. One at the base of her neck with his thumb lightly rubbing, the other at the back of her head stroking her hair soothingly. They were still on the couch she noticed.

His chin touched her forehead as he spoke to her, slowly and softly, “You are precious to me. I can’t help but become angry when I see you harming yourself yet again… this time in a different manner. I’m sorry, my love, for all I have done wrong to you.”

Tears stung her eyes at the sweet words. “’s okay, Lucifer. Really.”

“It’s not. But you’re the kindest creature to forgive a cruel one such as myself. It will not happen again, I promise you.”

She shook her head against him, fabric rustling. Her fingers clutched into his shirt, and she pressed her nose into the spot between, nuzzling absentmindedly. He smelled of smoke from a campfire and the ocean breeze. She didn’t have to worry. Lucifer was her protector her, and he only cared for her. She understood why he did what he did.

Mika spoke then. “I’m okay now. Don’t worry.”

“I will worry as I like.” He paused, his long fingers scratching over the back of her neck. “Did you do what your phone said, this ‘purging’?”

“Yes…”

He sighed. “We’ll speak more in a moment, after you have some water.”

He attempted to stand, but Mika gripped his shirt in her fingers. “No. Stay with me, please.”

Lucifer pet her head a few times, and she felt like a cat in the best way possible. She kept her gaze down, embarrassed. “I’m not leaving you. Count to three and I will return, can you do this for me?”

Easy enough to do. “Yes,” she mumbled. She closed her eyes, let go of him, and counted. Before she got to 3, he was back, and she grabbed him tight. He was no longer in his demon form so she held him around his waist, very nearly suffocating in his scent.

“Darling, here,” he said, turning her head sideways. He pressed a glass to her lips and she sipped it. The cool water was nice and seemed to wake her from her dazed state a little.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They sat there for a moment. The crackling of the room’s hearth was the only sound, and she focused on it, slowing her racing heartbeat. Lucifer kept his hands moving on her body, circular motions on her lower back, and his other playing with her hair. Never straying from her, never stopping comforting her with his loving hands. He allowed her this moment of peace for a few minutes, and she was grateful for it.

Until, “Mika, my dear, we must speak of this now.”

She knew it was coming, but did not want it to come so soon. “…okay…”

She could practically feel the way he settled his body, preparing for a speech. He was good at those. Lucifer spoke sternly, petting her locks as he did. “This absolutely cannot and will not happen again. If you eat, you will keep the food inside your body. I know you’re upset and unhappy about your weight gain, my dear, but I’ve said before that your health matters to me. And this, what you have done, it’s incredibly unhealthy.”

She winced. “I know. It’s… I can’t stop my thoughts, they just happen and I…” she trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

He hummed at her. “And when they do come, these terrible thoughts, you will come to me, or someone else in this house. I’ll help you however I can. You have to know my brothers will, too. We all care very deeply for you, Mika.”

She opened her mouth to protest. “But—”

“I promise.”

She sighed. “All right. I will…”

“You will what?”

“I’ll come to you if I have any bad thoughts.”

“Good, I’m glad.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, are you ready for your punishment?”

She bit her lip. She really was not.

He frowned, and caressed at her hair softly. “Mika. We can wait until you are not in such a state.”

“I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes a tad. She took a breath, and nodded. Now or never, or rather later. She hated putting things off to the last minute. “Okay. Yes. I’m ready.”

He assessed her once, up and down, into her eyes then, searching. She did not move a muscle or avert her eyes from his. “Very well. This way.” He led her to his desk, where he moved some papers aside and turned over some other private ones. “Hands here and here.” He pointed, and she placed them. “Spread your legs, and dip your back.” She blushed as she did this, head down and hair in her face. It was obviously going to be a spanking, and she hated this position for those.

He stood next to her, his aura changing with what was to come. She was more in tune with the types of energy demons gave off now after learning from Solmon, and from her pacts, and his was very stern and unmoving. “10 hits to your bottom. You do not have to speak, just stay still and take this punishment. The color system is in place. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

“Very good.”

She heard the click of his heels as he stepped behind her. His hand grabbed her hip, the touch making her jump, his fingers gently holding her still. He made a soft noise as if to assure her she was fine. Then his other hand rubbed over her ass, almost warming it up for the pain to be given. Briefly she thought if she was wearing her RAD skirt he would be able to see her panties from her positioning.

She tensed in anticipation as he just kept rubbing her butt. It was the second worst part of being spanked, waiting for it to start, while the first was obviously being spanked. This was what Lucifer did best, though, make her wait; it was part of the punishment.

The swat was sudden and really hard. She grunted, the discomfort flaring up. She vaguely heard the swooshing of… what was that? A paddle? No, it was too small. She widened her eyes in recognition. Oh fuck, it was a ruler, wasn’t it? She turned to look, but then his stern voice halted her.

“Keep facing forward.”

So she did, and two more hits came in hard succession. They stung like hell, the contact worse than a paddle because it was so thin and the force of the ruler seemed to be more intense. Her nails ground on the desk a bit. It got her entire ass, not just one cheek, and he hit it at a different angle.

Mika’s eyes watered up, and after the next hit, harder than the first ones, she grit her teeth and felt her throat get hot. She lost focus when his hand rubbed over the spot he hit then on her left butt cheek, and he rubbed really hard, too, so hard she could feel the indents the ruler made from the edges. She only kept her position because he held her hip so tightly.

He went hard on the rest, fast and efficient. So efficient Mika barely held her legs up. Her ass was burning and stinging and her stomach was clenched tight. Her arms shook holding her upper body against the desk. Was it over? She had no idea.

“You did so well.”

She collapsed forward onto her forearms, eyes watering up. A few tears fell onto the desk. “I’m sorry, for everything.”

“I know, love, it’s all forgiven. Come, let’s rest on the sofa.” He took her around her waist, leading her while she wiped her face. He sat down first, pulling her across his lap sideways so her legs rested long on the furniture. Then he chuckled as she sat on his lap and cried out from the sting.

She smacked his chest lightly, pouting. “Jerk. It hurts.”

He rubber her inner thigh, cooing almost sympathetically and sarcastically at the same time. “That’s how punishments work, Mika.”

She said nothing, grumbling about asshole demons. He just laughed some more, but it helped her mood settle a bit. The spanking wasn’t that bad, honestly it could have been worse. And she knew that had he not frightened her so much before she probably would have received 10 more hits to her ass than she did. She was almost glad he freaked out on her, her ass was certainly thankful.

“Hm. I hope you know I will be informing the others of what happened.” Her eyes widened. “Not of your spanking, although I’m sure if any had been near they would no doubt have heard it. No, I’m speaking of what we’ll call your… unhealthy dieting… to put it in a kind way.”

“Please no, don’t tell them Lucifer! I promise I’ll do better,” she begged.

But she was no Asmo and she could not charm any demon. He tutted at her, tipping her chin up to gaze at her with his beautiful red eyes. “It must be done to keep you safe. They’ll look after you when I cannot. Do you understand why I’m doing this?”

She sighed. “Yes… I just don’t like it.”

“Again, my darling, punishment.” His eyes twinkled.

She growled, and he laughed, kissing her lips sweetly, killing her hate with his wonderful talented mouth. “My adorable little Mika.”

She blushed. “Luci…”

He pulled her close. “I love you.”

She leaned into his embrace. “I love you too.”

They sat there, close and warm, Mika’s butt tingling occasionally. But she focused on Lucifer’s arms around her, and his lips tickling her hair as he breathed. She would never get over how he made her feel so many amazing things. Or just how much he treated her like family even though she was human. Being loved by Lucifer was such an unimaginable thing, and yet here he was, loving her with all his being.

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