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ask-carmenpondiego · 9 days

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Chapter 22: Ex Sex, Demon Blood, and Robot Limbs

The holidays came and went without much issue, took about a week for Carmen to adjust to walking again and even quicker to adjust to her new arms. M had holed himself back into his room for the most part, much to the teen siblings disappointment. They wanted to see how bad his jolly could get. But nonetheless his gifts were set by his door for him to collect. On HearthsWarming morning, the teens came down from their prepared rooms to find that the little humble decor that was previously put up had multiplied tenfold, the tree was almost overloaded with ornaments, a curved fortress wall of presents for every person in that HQ was sitting both under and around the tree, almost as high as the tree itself. Walls had boughs of holly, evergreen, ribbon and poinsettia flowers in a classic red green and gold motif. There were straw grass goats, menorahs, different species figurines caroling, candles of nearly every color that was specific to multiple different holidays. It was like every winter holiday exploded into a single room.

Blendin and Daring’s eyes went huge and their mouths were unable to shut for a very long time, they were so stunned. Carmen had gotten up early to start the massive amount of festive food and blinked as she sipped her coffee, leaning a little on Wally’s walking cane. “Well. That was expected. Looks like M couldnt contain it in his room this year.” The kids looked at her, “M DID THIS?!” Carmen nodded, sipping more coffee. “Mmhm. This is what I was warning you about. This is just the living room. See all this? Embody all this into a single person. Thats what he is dealing with. And he HATES it. Like a song you absolutely hate being stuck in your head only worse.”

Vasha and Drake came through the front door and stopped short, “M got loose? And we missed it??” 079 blipped up on the tv, which was decorated in tinsel garland much to the ai’s annoyance. “Yes, yes, the rude one spent all night like a cartoon whirlwind, I’m surprised no one woke up with the incessant caroling off key.” Soon everyone, other than M respectably, had seen the holiday explosion and marveled at the little personal details for each agent and family member. After a hefty breakfast of meats, waffles, pancakes, french toast and various danish and fruit, they all gathered for gifts. Predictably the kids got the majority of presents since it was their first winter season with family. “There no way we can bring all stuff this back to our dorms…” they both lamented. Asta shrugged, “Why not just split the stuff between here and there? Its not like you don’t have a place to stay right here. You can come and go as you please!” Blendin absolutely loved the idea while Daring was a little more apprehensive. She then noticed everything of hers had a gift receipt, to which Carmen nodded, “To show you that we didnt steal any gifts. I want you to trust us. Our honesty is one of our biggest gifts we have for you.” Daring smiled a bit, still torn. “Everything is so nice, and not just blindly given. All these things are all part of my interests..” she paused and it looked like she was looking for something to be mad about it all. But all she could muster was, “Well, I still think you’re up to something! Quit trying to prove me wrong!” And after muttering a sincere thank you, she proceeded to curl up on the sofa, getting a feel of her new phone and laptop complete with writing programs to make it easier to write and publish her works.

Lekir plopped a bow onto Carmen’s head and joking poked Wally, “Hey Stripes, Happy HearthsWarming, we upgraded your wife! With those augments from Sky and Sig, and the demon essence, she’s no longer a little squishy! She can actually take a hit now!” Carmen thought a moment. “So I got stronger, live longer, my appearance changed and I have fire powers. What about the new fangs and am I supposed to draw heat to make heat? Because I made something cold with one hand and something hot in the other earlier.”

Lekir raised an eyebrow and suddenly got onto the mare’s lap and started sticking her fingers into her muzzle to look at her teeth. “What do you mean cold? What fangs?" She looks closer into her mouth and quickly clasps her hands around her wife's snout, "FUCK! Okay... so good news and... not bad news!" Carmen blinks, confused, “Well you said I was only half demon now. What do you mean not ba- Ow…You mabe me bipe my tonge.. mmh, I hope I’m not venomous or poisonous. Because that would suck about now. Or am I a fire vampire?” Lekir baps her lightly and sits back down, debating about getting a chart and crayons.

“You’re not a fire vampire, you’re an idiot sandwich. But no, You don't inject anything... well you could but don't try it, you could possibly liquefy someone from the inside out or freeze them entirely while removing all the water in their body, essentially freeze drying them.” Carmen narrows her eyes, running her tongue over her teeth, “I dunno if I like that.” Lekir waves it off, “Its not really something you need to worry about, its more a conscious thing like you would need to choose to do it. So first off, don’t bite people. Ok, I told you about the pendant that had my brother's essence, right? My two brothers have different parents, but we each share one, I'll leave out all the details of that, that's not important!” She takes a deep breath and tries to figure out how to simply explain it. “So, back in Cador, my home world, Larquez is what we called a Harbinger. They are a being who has purified blood due to Ketsru blood, demon blood. Instead of it causing mixed bloods to create a lesser of the two parents like in your world, it instead enhances both or more to 100%, meaning you're 100% Jirvi, Ketsru, Vesk and... equine. None of your history is removed, just... more if itself. It's hard to explain, but the title should be a hint. You are much more than you ever were, and likely able to overwhelm me now... which means... WE CAN BE ROUGH WITH YOU!” Carmen squints her eyes suspiciously, “And you got all that from my hand being cold and hot and by looking at my new fangs?”

The Vesk shrugs, “If you were only part Jirvi, fire demon, you would not be able to switch from hot to cold. It would be just fire. And the fangs aren’t a Jirvi trait. But this does mean you can also shapeshift since you are a Cador Harbinger now.”

Carmen scratches her head, ��I honestly dont think I’m Harbinger material.. I mean I probably wont use most of what you say I can do.. I’m just a little thief.”

Lekir wags her tail, “A little thief who can fight and win wars and not break when having the most intense sex of her life! I’m sure Ninoga and Kiros are gonna be thankful not to have to treat you like bone china anymore!” Carmen’s face got as red as her blouse, “I dont want to fight in wars or anything like that.. but the sex does sound pretty nice..” Daring exclaims out loud, “Omg! Can we NOT talk about my mom’s sex life?! Its fucking gross!! We are right here! We dont wanna hear about our parents fucking everyone under the sun! Right Blendin?!… Blendin?” Daring turns and sees her brother not even paying any attention as he had new headphones on and was fully engrossed in playing a new handheld video game.

Lekir snickers and pats Carmen on the thigh, “Don’t worry, you’re now able to survive the gravity and atmosphere of Cador, I can bring you there and there’s a few Harbingers there that can teach you how to control your new powers. We can go starting next month if you wish. Maybe take a few weeks off or something. I’ll get to show you around.” Wally grins, “Wow, that is a lot to kinda sink in. So she is technically a main character now, not just the odd one out! Like an anime!!” Blendin looks up, moving his headphones, “Someone say anime??” Daring just gives a slow turn look at him, “You heard THAT but not all the other stuff?!” He blinks, “What other stuff?”

After cleaning up the wrappings and ribbons, there was a modest feast complete with desserts, to which after was the mountain of dishes that took nearly three days to clean completely down to the last fork. Luckily by then all the leftovers were already devoured and enjoyed, the wine cellar had never looked as empty in quite a while.

Soon it was the middle of the first month of the new year, the kids went back to their dorms and M stumbled out of his room all haggard and hungover. The HQ had been cleared of holiday swag and was back to its normal decor for at least a week or two. He made his way to the kitchen to brew some deathwish coffee, black, no sugar, no cream. From in the very large walk in pantry, the entrance to the wine cellar glowed blue and Skyggja and Drake were hauling stacks of crates of different liquors and spirits on dollies, trying to replenish the inventory that was consumed over the holidays. “Hey its the sleeping snow angel, awake from its nap!” Drake chuckled as M leaned against the pantry door, his response was just a deep growly groan as he sipped the coffee. His somewhat tattered teal and blue insect wings twitched a bit but his tentacles were still tucked in, not shown. His long slender and brushlike tail swayed with slight growing annoyance as he watched more crates get stored.

“Where’s Red?” He grumped, Skyggja raising an eyebrow, holding a crate for a moment. “Well aren’t you your bright and festive self. This must be you normally from what I’ve heard. Carmen is upstairs with Sig, she wanted to discuss possible add-ons to her hands. I think she thinking about storing lock-picks or something in there. Which is really easy to do. We just need to make sure her new superpowers dont interfere with the system or components.” M scratched his head with one eye closed, “New Superpowers? I thought I heard something about her only having fire.. ain’t yer stuff fireproof or some shit?” Skyggja set down the crate and put her hands on her hips, “Didn’t anyone update you yet?” M grumbled, “Yer the first two souls I’ve seen since waking the fuck up. I haven’t even looked at the fuckin calendar yet.” His face showed how much of a hangover he had, even his cheeks had a tinge of queazy green. “Oh, well Lekir can fill you in with details but the shortcut version is that the essence made her more than fire but rather she won the lottery and got like three other bloods? Something confusing but she’s considered a Harbinger now and has new added strength and other things. Like you could slam a metal chair against her back and she’s just look at you, not budging.” M smacked his lips and sighed, looking into his drink. “Well la-dee-fuckin-dah. Looks like I’ll need to find a Vesk and do some fucking homework. As long as nothing fucking changed her into someone she’s not..Then I’d have a fuckin problem.”

Drake chuckled, “Oh, no, she’s her usual stubborn self, just dealing with a lot changes. Rightfully so. She says she’s taking it stride but I’ve heard her break down behind closed doors once or twice. Its gonna take a bit for her to get over what happened.” M hmmed in return and turned to walk away but paused and looked at the glowing doorway, taking a sip. “Hm. Maybe I’ll work on the C5 doorway later. We do have that interdimensional item transporter just sitting in the mech lab. I bet I can access the fuckin multiverse if I connect the ley doors and Chronoskimmer to it.” He muttered. Skyggja stacked more crates, just about finished, “Just make sure you run it past me, I don’t want any funny business running through the system. I don’t need that goofy ass Dogma Metatron digital wanna-be nagging me for something I had no clue about!” M waved his hand, “Yeh, yeh..” and proceeded to talk a walk outside by the perimeter.

He strolled the beach and stood watching the waves for a few moments before he noticed a small boat that was dragged ashore. Looks like its been there possibly an hour with how the tide was currently. His gaze wandered up towards the gardens and saw a small moving patch of electric blue hair. Cracking his neck, he magically sent (a power that he called shadowing to summon or send away items from a short distance) his cup back to the kitchen with a small puff of toxic green flame and smoke and straightened his half open button down shirt, tucking it into his pants. He silently made his way to the intruder. An extremely slender dark balance changeling female, same body color and tail shape as M, but her hair was that electric fiberoptic looking blue hair in a half shaved/ shoulder length droopy mohawk style that he had seen from the beach and her eyes, segmented and gradient like his, only in red and yellow. She was crouching behind the bushes, taking account of the security cameras. Deciding to mess with her, he crouches down near her, rubbing his chin and whispers, “Do you think they’ll notice us?” Her long ears perked up as her eyes grew wide, whipping her head towards him. It took her a minute before squealing with delight, “Oh em gee!! Skaedfryd!! I didn’t know you were here! Were you assigned here too?! We can work together!!” She flung herself at him hard, tackling him and planting her lips upon his. He pushed her off his lips and leaned up on his elbows as she stayed straddling his hips. He wiped his muzzle with his sleeve.

Assigned? What was her game? M recognized the changeling as his ex from 200 or so years back. “Uh, yeh, I’ve been posted here for a while. Why are you here?” She flitted her little red and orange wings, shimmying her shoulders, “I got hired by this big shot no name contractor to put a hit on the red lady in there! Who hired you?” His ears dipped back as he narrowed his eyes, dropping the playful act, “I was hired by the red lady in there. I’m part of her fuckin security.” She shimmied again, grinding her hips, “Oh so a secret inside hit job then? You were always the best cause of death in our generation~” she practically moaned at him. She ran her fingers over his chest, slipping into his shirt, licking her lips. He sighed in annoyance and dropped his head back. “No, you fucking dumb bitch. I mean I am literally her protector. I don’t kill. I found something better to put my talents toward.”

This was news to her and her mood switched on a dime, “So you mean to tell me this cunty unicorn basically pussy-whipped you into submission? What the actual fuck? You were so sexy back when you were covered in blood, pieces of corpse littering the ground, your claws ripping through muscle and sinew like a hot knife through butter~” she got sidetracked again and started to grind again. She stopped and looked down, “Why arent you getting hard?” He growled, “Because I dont fucking like you, you annoy the piss outta me and I want you to get off of me.” Its not like he couldn’t just toss her, but he gave her a chance to move on her own. She leans forward, brushing some hair behind her ear, moaning, “Thats not what you said two hundred years ago~ As I recall, you used my horns like handle bars to bend my back in such a twisted way~ Ooohm, makes me wet just remembering!~” His eyes glowed as he picked her up with his tentacles and got to his feet, dusting himself off. She, on the other-hand, seemed to be in near orgasm just by the thought of being handled by tentacles. “For fuck sakes, get a fuckin hold of yerself!” He simply tossed her into a bush and shuddered. “Crazy ass bitch, get off our island and report back to yer boss that you failed. Fuck, you’re so fuckin one track minded. I’m goin back to work. Fuck this shit.”

She watched him stalk away but then hurried after him, she had shifted from her navy blue catsuit, to a baby blue pleated short skirt, a low cut light purple crop tank top and baby pink leg warmers and light green fishnet elbow length fingerless gloves. She whipped a vine around his ankles and swept him off his feet so he dangled upside down face to face to her, her smile to his grimace. “See? I turned that frowny frown upside down! We should totally sixty-nine like this sometime~” M nods, “Oh sure, how about the Tuesday after never, which is a week after Fuck off!” She laughed “You’re so funny! Now come on, you can tell me all the little details on this little chicky’s weaknesses~ I need to hurry and get this job done so I can do my nails. They’re gonna look sooo good around your cock… and scratching down your back as you take me, mmmhf!~” she squirmed as she stood in front of him, he was still upside down and quickly losing patience. He had learned to be extra cautious of his actions during his hangover, he had a bad habit of overreacting greatly. Things that normally make him quickly explode now brings him to a slow rumbling boil before going all out.

“So yer saying that you need a good fucking, right? You want me to rail you till you cant walk right for weeks, fill you up with my juices and make you my little sex pet, is that it?” He softened his tone to a low sexual growl, making her legs tremble just from listening to him. “Oooh fuck yes!!” She begged, letting him down to stand on his own. He caressed the back of her neck with surprising gentleness with his hand, the other sliding around the small of her back. He twisted her so she had her back to him as he pressed against her, his hand almost cupping her chin upwards as the other explored her front, his muzzle kissing and nipping her neck hungrily as she practically melted in his grasp. She writhed and moaned, he stroked her nethers just barely. She couldnt see his eyes but they were twitching in disgust. His hand wanted to recoil from feeling how drenched she was.

He removed his hands and grasped hers together behind her back, shadowing a pair of Carmen’s handcuffs and locking them in place before pushing her to the ground, face down, ass up. “Oohhh fuck! If I known you were going to be this kinky, I would have brought toys!! Aaahhhnnn~” she wriggled her ass as he got close behind her, he could feel her grinding, he reached and grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, “I always knew you were such a bad girl. You really want me to stick it deep, dont you? You want to feel every single inch…” she cried out and begged, her body already trembling in wanton anticipation. “Oh god yes!! Give it to me!!” He straightened up and shadowed Lekir’s spear into his grip and thrust it into her back by her shoulders and pushed it all the way through deep into the ground. The changeling mare screeched and her two vines whipped out by her wings, trying to attack him. Effortlessly, he catches both and pulls them taught, using a large folded pocketknife to slice them off by the base. She writhed and attempted to reach the spear but the way he had her positioned and bound, she didnt have proper movement nor leverage strength to rescue herself. “What the FUCK?! That shit is cold like ice!! Let me up! Skaedfryd!! I’m gonna kill you for this!!”

She, like M, was not so easily disposed or destroyed by a simple spear to the body. For good measure, he hammered the end a little bit to make sure it didnt move. He picked up the severed now-wilted vines and wiped his face with his sleeve, groaning. “Maybe now you’ll take the hint and fuckin leave.” He got halfway the path when Lekir starts coming towards him, “Where is it, bug boy? I know you took my spear! And Carmen’s cuffs. Only you have this green flamey smoky magic. I’ll have you know I was in the middle of- is that..? what is doing over there?” He looked over his shoulder at the struggling ex and shrugged. “I needed it for gardening, ya know, just doing some trimming, getting rid of some pesky horny weeds.” He tosses the vines into the compost heap and puts the knife back into his pocket.

The Vesk narrowed her eyes and looked at M’s supposed victim. “Right. Gardening.. well, you seem busy, I’ll leave you to… whatever that is. By the way, you got a bit of something there..” she gestured to a sizable wet spot on the front of his pants. “FOR FUCK SAKE I JUST WASHED THESE! YOU DAMN HORNY ASS BITCH!” He stormed off towards the HQ, “Whatever, you deal with her, put her inside an iceberg to sink the titanic for all I care. God damn stupid crazy ass bitch…” Lekir just observed the struggling ex for a moment before joining him inside the mansion, ignoring the stream of obscenities.

#mlp oc pony #carmen pondiego #ask blog #story update #ao3 fanfic #marehem #harbinger #cador #crazy psycho ex

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athomewiththecicadas · 2 years

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Oldies but goodies. Hoo?

My Springfields?

M1A Standard rifle.

I had a new barrel poured in H22 tool steel. Along with a standard bolt. And that’s from all the metalworking when I was younger. No tricks, just tool steel.

As for machining, tool steel doesn’t bend as much, which allows me to loosen the rifling. It’s not that much faster than a standard barrel, which puts it back to standard specs. And the bolt clearances were also loosened as well. But both together the barrel and the bolt we’re talking 1000th’s of an inch.

If you ever get the opportunity to watch an M1A fire in slow motion, you can see it wobbles. But it was cheap. Maybe a $200-$300 hundred dollars.

Bushnell/Nikon

But I did run across a muzzle break for an M1 Garand and got it to fit an M1A.

Monster Energy Drink break**

Anyway, I bought a Springfield XDM .40 when they first came out, and when you think of buying a nice handgun, I would think Sig Sauer. You know you expect it to hit the target in the indoor range, and then the machining of the handgun is supposed to prop up your firing position. But I bought it blind. Never shot one.

And it took some getting used to because it was sensitive to my index finger. And it took me about 8 magazines to get the hang of it after I went and asked for help, because I started to think I might need to get it set up or adjusted.

Nope, he points out that it’s really that sensitive. So, I bought a gun that embarrassed me instead. And it’s got a plastic frame. Imagine that.

And so, I held onto it for a few years, and cleaning the XDM turns into a religious experience, which for an officer is also odd. And you would think that the brand-new feeling would dull, but here’s where it doesn’t embarrass you:

It never losses it’s value for display. And I have to admit I actually bought it.

But it’s definitely my Type ‘56 SKS. And for 20 years it’s been my Chinese 1956 SKS. But if you were allowed to do anything you wanted to your rifle, I’m still debted for the firing range. And I am an expert marksman.

So, hang on a second. That is a really weird question to ask someone who shoots for competition. There are no modifications to speak of for “martial” competition. But, ah yes, all of my mastery of range rifles for competition.

I’ve got a thumbhole stock. And I actually got it turned in raw black walnut. And if that isn’t enough, I got it turned noting my bone structure. And if you shoot rifles, you would notice after a few magazines that for some reason that you can’t see: “this rifle feels good.”

But it’s not just a raw black walnut thumbhole stock, the grain is “diamond cut,” just like you’re looking at those arrowheads for archery. (on-going)

It’s my thumbhole stock.

And so, when you are thinking about changing calibers from 7.62x39 to 7.62x51, you start thinking about a new caliber making “puncture” wounds. And I even checked all the different varieties of the 7.62x51 and how it effects a bullet proof vest.

So, know for me that it is the lighter full metal jacket and the idea of actually making a flesh wound.

Springfield wants to get this out of here. Okay, so cool.

And I bought 4 straight from the manufacturer,

1. The M1A described above, with a standard stock in diamond cut raw black walnut

2. An M1A with no modification, and a standard stock in diamond cut raw Beech

3. A standard M1A

4. A standard M14

And along with my .40 cal XDM, those are my Springfields. And there is no thumbhole stock.

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/us-house-panel-seeks-details-five-gunmakers-after-shootings-2022-05-27/

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puckwritesstuff · 2 years

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“ so... is this like, a thing now? “

I've really been enjoying She-Hulk, by the way. ^_^

Thank you for the ask!

---

After everyone else had left, Bruce and Sif helped Sigyn up from the throne. At 22 weeks, even the loosest clothes she could find still showed how pregnant she was, and she was starting to have trouble moving.

“I think we can start cutting these back to once a week,” Sigyn said. “Most people have houses now, and the crisis has died down somewhat. Daily audiences are probably not necessary.”

“I’ll adjust the schedule,” Sif said. “You should get home and rest before starting to work again.”

“Tell that to my call sheet,” Sigyn said.

“I’ll make sure she gets some food in her,” Bruce said.

The door to the Great Hall opened, and a young woman with very curly hair stormed in.

“Robert Bruce Banner!”

Sigyn looked at Bruce, who was slowly turning a very bright shade of red.

“I think that’s for you,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “If I could have a moment?”

“I’ll get her home,” Sif said.

Sif and Sigyn walked out of the Great Hall.

“I don’t need a…” Sigyn’s voice faded as the door shut. Bruce turned to look at his cousin, who was absolutely fuming.

“Now, Jen—”

“Oh, don’t ‘now Jen’ me!” Jennifer Walters yelled. “You were gone for two years, the world’s gone to hell in a handbasket, and you don’t even think of trying to get in contact with me to let me know you’re alive?”

“Jen—”

“I had to learn from someone handing me a copy of Le Monde— who in L.A. reads Le Monde, by the way, that I was supposed to figure out anything—that you were even on the planet, much less alive and well and living in New Asgard? What the hell is New Asgard?” she asked.

“They’re refugees, their planet was destroyed by—”

“Not to mention the fact that everyone just vanished,” she continued. “I tried getting in touch with Avengers HQ to see if they had any clue to what was going on with you, but I guess the people that used to work the phones are gone— and again, how was I supposed to know what happened? How were any of us? Do you have any idea what the last two years have been like for your mother?”

Bruce looked away.

“How is—”

“She’s gone, Bruce,” Jen said. “So’s everyone else. It’s just you and me.”

He shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We tried to stop it.”

Jen paused. “I’m sure you did. But did you even think about getting in touch with anyone, to see if we’d made it?”

“I guess not,” he said. “There was a lot going on.”

She crossed her arms. “So what are you even doing here?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Sig needed help— she still needs help— and when she asked me to come, it… it was something I could help with. This is real, and I guess I needed something solid that felt like there was an actual difference being made.”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of like that everywhere.”

“Plus, I don’t exactly have a place,” Bruce said. “I mean, I was staying with Tony, but he got beat up pretty bad and I didn’t feel comfortable, you know… plus before that, I wasn’t exactly working a nine-to-five with a house in the suburbs.”

Jen snorted. “Yeah, no kidding. But did you think I wouldn’t put you up?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think about it. And Sig asked, so—”

“That’s not your kid is it?” she asked.

Bruce’s face turned beet red. “Jen!”

She put her hands up. “Just asking!”

“I mean, let’s ignore the fact that I can’t, you know— and seriously? She just lost her husband,” he said.

“I did hear about that,” Jen said.

“Look, do you have a place to stay for the night?” Bruce said. “That’s a long flight to LA, fuzzball, I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Yeah, but I gotta get back,” she said. “I didn’t even book a return flight, I just was so mad at you that…”

“I guess anger issues run in the family, huh,” Bruce said, trying to laugh it off.

Jen paused. “Okay, Bruce, I get that your dad was an asshole.”

Bruce looked away.

“But that doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t care,” she said. “I mean, doesn’t mean that I don’t care.”

He nodded. “I know. If you need to get back, Sig can get you there quick.”

They started walking out of the Great Hall.

“So… is this, like, a thing now?” Jen asked.

“I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about,” Bruce said.

“You and the King of Asgard,” Jen said. “I mean you said yes to ‘come live with me halfway around the world and help me build an entire country’, you’re calling her by a nickname, you’re essentially sleeping on her couch, and if you put aside the fact that she’s a widow and pregnant, I saw the photos of her first appearance at the UN, she is—”

“I could also put you on that eighteen-hour flight back home,” Bruce said.

“I’ll shut up.”

#prompt #fanfiction #sigyn #bruce banner #jennifer walters #Love Duty and Glorious Purpose fic #LDGP Main Timeline

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darkthingshappen · 2 years

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Brother’s Keeper Chapter 1: Acquisition For Repayment

First story on this account, If you like it, please like, leave a comment, and or reblog. HUGE thanks to @card-games-and-pain for looking it over and giving me great feedback.

Ben’s phone chirped from his pocket; it was probably his older brother, the man had been calling him all evening but Ben was ignoring the calls. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his brother, or that he didn’t love him. He just enjoyed the time spent with his girlfriend more.

However, his night out was over, so he might as well answer as he walked up the steps to his parent’s house. They were out of town for the week, so he had their modest home all to himself.

Ben glanced down to see who was calling, as expected, it was his brother. His face broke into a smile as he answered the phone, “Hey, Jake, what’s up?”

“Ben! Ben! Where are you?” gasped Jake.

“I’m headed home, why?” Ben slid the key into the lock and turned the knob, opening the door.

“Don’t go home! Do you hear me! Do not go home!” there was a desperate edge in his voice that Ben had never heard before.

“I hate to disappoint you but-” he was blinded by the flash of the living room light coming on. “What the he-” He never saw the blow coming. Before his eyes adjusted to the light something landed painfully with a dull thud on the back of his head.

His knees buckled and he dropped to the floor, a pair of shiny black wingtip shoes coming into view. As his vision grayed out he saw a hand with immaculately trimmed nails picking up his phone from where it landed on the ground in front of him.

*!*!*!*!*

Jake listened in horror as he heard his brother cry out followed by a crash and a thud.

“Ben! Ben! Don’t go in the house. They’re there. They’ll find you. BEN!”

Ben didn’t answer. Instead, a man in a sleek black suit and a turtleneck came to the phone.

“I’m sorry, but Ben isn’t going to be able to take any more calls at this time.” The man’s thick Russian accent crackled through the phone.

“Volkov! You bastard. Let my brother go! He has nothing to do with this.”

“But you do. And since you’ve proven to be… uncooperative. I’m going to have to see if little Benjamin here is more… amenable to my terms for repayment.

“No! Don’t do this, he’s just a kid. Please.”

“He looks old enough to me.” Alexei Volkov snapped his fingers at the man currently rifling through the unconscious Benjamin’s pockets. The henchman handed Volkov the young man’s wallet.

He flipped through the various items he found there. “It says here that Benjamin Adkins is twenty years old, lives with your parents, how quaint, and that he attends the University of Pittsburgh.”

“Please. He’s not like me. He’s… he’s got a future. He’s brilliant. He’s not mixed up in all this mess.”

“He has new future now, thanks to your incompetence. Perhaps, if you find some way to satisfy your debt. Return my product, plus interest, I’ll consider giving him back.”

“I told you I don’t have your product. The cops seized it in a raid. I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave my baby brother out of this. Please.”

Ben moaned from where he lay on the floor.

“We’ll see what type of arrangement we can come to. But for now, I’m taking little Benjamin with me. And I’m not going to be gentle. You’ve made me very angry, Jacob Adkins, and lost me a lot of money.

“You have two weeks. If I am not satisfactorily compensated for my losses, then I keep your brother. Young men like him, especially ones that aren’t used to it and haven’t been trained, can be exceptionally entertaining. And I have friends that pay well for such entertainment.”

“No! Please. Volkov! Please! Take me instead. I’ll meet you. I’ll come to you. Anything. Please.”

“No, I don’t think so Jacob. As you said, you have work to do to try and get me my money. I have to go now. Your brother is waking up and I haven’t properly introduced myself.”

Jake was still screaming into the phone, pleading for his brother’s life as Volkov ended the call.

*!*!*!*!*

Ben groaned again, head pounding. Volkov pulled out his Sig Sauer pistol and nodded to the same man that had gone through his pockets. The man turned Ben over so that he was facing up towards them.

Ben squeezed his eyes shut before blinking them open and trying to focus. His eyes soon focused on the man in the suit in front of him and then quickly zeroed in on the gun in his hand as he crouched down in front of him.

“Who are-” Volkov pressed the barrel of the gun up under his chin and Ben went deadly quiet. He swallowed, feeling the weapon pressing against his throat.

“You seem like a fast learner. Please let me introduce myself. My name is Alexsei Volkov. I work with your brother. Or rather, he works for me. Or he did, until recent events.”

“Please. Is he… Is he okay? If it’s ransom money you’re looking for, I’m just a college kid. My parents won’t be back for another week. But… but I can call them. S-see if they can can come home e-early?” Ben’s eyebrows knit together in confusion at the smile spreading across Volkov’s face. “W-we don’t h-have a l-lot of money. M-most of it went into b-buying this house.”

“It’s a very nice house,” Volkov agreed. “But I don’t have your brother. I have you.”

The confusion deepened. “Wh-what do you want? I don’t have anything.”

“Oh, I think you have a lot more to give that you think. You definitely have a lot that I can take.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” An even broader grin crept across his features. “Well, it’s been lovely getting to see your home. But now it’s time you got to see mine. We have a bit of traveling to do first though.” He checked his watch. “Come, we have a flight to catch.”

“What? I’m not going anywhere with you. What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry you are operating under the delusion that you have a choice in any of this. Your days of thinking and deciding for yourself are over. Until I am satisfied, you belong to me – you can thank your brother for that, should you ever get to see him again.”

Volkov nodded towards the garage door. “I think we’ve talked enough. Please escort young Benjamin here to the car.”

“I won’t. No.” Ben’s eyes drifted to the four para-military looking men that stood around him. His head was still pounding from the hit he’d taken, but he tried to scramble away.

My phone! I gotta call the cops. Where is my phone? He crab-walked backwards, in an effort to get away and find his phone, but his movements were sluggish, and he was easily subdued.

Ben shrieked as his hair was yanked upwards, forcing him to stand and his arms were wrenched behind his back. He cried out as zip ties were used to bind his wrists together.

“Will you please shut him up before a neighbor hears something,” Volkov sighed, checking his watch again. Now that the fun of the phone call was over, he was ready to move on. Tape was quickly pressed over Ben’s mouth and then a mask pulled over his face.

Volkov smirked. “Good.” He reached out and patted Ben’s cheek. “Now no one can tell you’re gagged. Not that it’s going to matter.”

The men dragged him from the main part of the house, through the kitchen and into the garage. There was another vehicle parked in the spot where his parent’s car normally sat.

Instead of taking him to the backseat as he’d expected, he was dragged to the trunk of the car. They popped it open and unceremoniously shoved him in the compartment.

A moment later, Volkov was at the trunk, holding something in his hand. He reached into the trunk and wrapped it around Ben’s neck. Ben shivered as he felt it lock in place behind his head, sharp metal prongs pressing into the tender skin of his neck. He stared up at Volkov, heart in his throat.

“You be a good boy and stay still and quiet and I won’t have to use this.” He held up a small black remote control. And then his thumb pressed a button.

Ben’s world lit up in white, agonizing torment and he couldn’t even scream. As the shock subsided, he lay panting for breath and staring up at Volkov.

“Do we understand each other? If I hear a single sound, or even think that you are moving…” Another brutal jolt of electricity swept through him, back arching up off the floor of the trunk. “Am I clear?”

Ben lay shaking and gasping trying to catch his breath from the pain. Another monstrous jolt. “I asked you a question. Am. I. Clear?”

Ben sobbed and nodded his head.

“Good. Now don’t move a muscle. And don’t you dare make a sound.”

The trunk shut and Ben was left in the dark, weeping and terrified.

#whump #Whump writer #whump community #whump writer introduction post #Taken for payment of debt #Kidnapping #shock collar #Brother's Keeper #original characters #original fiction #ocs #Ben Adkins #Benjamin Adkins OC #Violence #Jake Adkins #Jacob Adkins OC #Alexsei Volkov #Alexsei Volkov OC

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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

Text

Real//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, I think that’s it ?

Summary: One small favor. A trade. That was all it was. Mutually beneficial! Until things between Fred and Y/N and their new relationship get a little more complicated and cause too many prying eyes.

Prompts: Fake Dating with dialogue prompts “we could have prevented this!” and “did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Day 3 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

“I’ve made my list of rules which you will abide by and under no circumstances will be broken. Number 1: this ruse does not leave the shop. I don’t want random people on the street questioning me because you couldn’t keep your huge mouth shut. Number 2: I will allow you to kiss me on the cheek and forehead as often as you like, within reason of course, and you can give me a peck on the lips 3 times in total. I will keep track. And Number 3: Don’t take up the entire bed any more or I will be forced to push you onto the floor. Sound good?”

“Bloody hell, you are crazy aren’t you?”

“Just a little bit.”

Fred was starting to regret his previous decision of making this arrangement with you, but a jingle of his shop bell and glance at who was walking in quickly made those feelings disappear.

“Deal,” he said, eyes not leaving the woman who had just entered. “But we start right now and I want one of those kisses.”

You looked up at your friend, confused at his sudden nerves before you followed his line of sight and understood immediately. You sighed and ruffled your hair a bit, looking for a mirror to fix your makeup. “I’m on it, give me a few minutes.”

Fred nodded, still watching his target walk slowly through the aisles of his store. As she turned a corner you ducked into the back office, waiting for a good time to reemerge.

“Freddie!” A high pitched voice pierced through the ear, equal parts flirtatious and absolutely unbearable. Fred glanced up, pretending not to have noticed the girl before. Putting on a fake smile, he set down the product he was pretending to tinker with and placed his hands on the counter table.

“Brooklyn, hi! How are you?” he asked, hoping his fake politeness would pass as genuine.

“Ugh I am so good. So SO good actually,” she said, twisting a finger through her hair. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you! I’m so glad you received my letter, I was hoping we could catch up, maybe over dinner sometime? I’ve had so many fine young men ask me out over the last few months, but none of them seemed to compare to you, my little Freddie Bear.”

He winced at the nickname, it bringing an onslaught of unwanted memories that he had desperately tried to forget. Brooklyn bit her lip and placed a hand on top of Fred’s, leaning in to accentuate her breasts and make sure Fred got a good whiff of her new perfume.

Very calmly, Fred placed his other hand on top of hers, now sandwiched in between his strong grip. “Brooklyn,” he said, faking sympathy, “you’re a lovely girl, and I’m sure any guy would be lucky to have you, but--”

“Hey, love!”

A voice interrupted Fred’s rejection, making a very surprised Brooklyn become absolutely enraged as she witnessed you come up and place a chaste kiss on Fred’s lips, smiling into him. Fred pulled his hands from Brooklyn’s grip and placed it instead on your hip, pulling you into him and placing another peck on your forehead. You both stared lovingly into each other’s eyes before a harsh cough stole your attention.

“And who is this?” Brooklyn asked, arms crossed angrily. She was glaring daggers at you, not even trying to fake sweetness for Fred’s sake.

Keeping his hand on your waist, Fred turned back to the girl who seemed as though she was about to explode. “That’s what I was trying to tell you Brooklyn,” he said, trying to keep his smile as pitiful as he could without it drawing suspicion. “This is Y/N, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

You nuzzled into Fred’s chest for half a second before reaching a hand out to Brooklyn. “It’s so nice to meet you! Brooklyn, was it? I don’t think Fred’s ever mentioned you before, are you one of his childhood friends. Cousin, maybe?”

That had done it and you and Fred both knew it. He subtly fist bumped you under the counter as you watched the girl’s face become redder than Fred’s hair.

She opened her mouth before taking a huge breath and stepping back. “No, actually,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m his ex-girlfriend. I left him to move on to much better things. Speaking of which--” she flipped her hair and smoothed out her skirt, straightening her posture to try to keep what little dignity she had left, “--I actually have a date. With a dragon trainer no less, and a very renowned one.”

“Oh really?” Fred asked. “That’s amazing. My brother, Charlie, is a dragon trainer as well, and he’s very well known in the community. May I ask the name of the lucky young man? Maybe Charlie knows him.”

Caught very off guard, Brooklyn rolled her eyes and turned to face the door. “That’s none of your business. I better be going, before we’re late to dinner at a very nice place, somewhere the likes of you most likely couldn’t afford.”

You felt Fred stiffen next to you and you squeezed his hand gently. “Have a nice time! It was lovely to meet you Bridget.”

“It’s Brooklyn,” she seethed.

“Oh right, silly me,” you said, shaking your head. “Bye!”

As Brooklyn sauntered out of the store, you turned to Fred and whispered seductively, just loud enough for the exiting girl to hear. “How about we have a nice night in tonight? I got something the other day that I’d love for you to see. Maybe after seeing it you’ll make me scream even louder than last night.” Fred’s face began to grow red and he had to discreetly adjust his pants, hoping you didn’t notice exactly what your words were doing to him.

Brooklyn slammed the door and practically ran down the cobbled streets, only screaming when she thought she was far enough away to not be heard. You and Fred both waited a few seconds before cheering and hugging each other, him patting you on the back for a great performance.

“Y/N! That was incredible! I knew I could count on you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you said, “I’m amazing, I know.” You smiled up at him completing the high five he was waiting on. “When you told me you needed help with a crazy ex I didn’t know you meant like actually crazy. She’s insane! How did you put up with her for so long?”

Fred shrugged, jumping up onto the counter. “She was hot and I was horny. Not much else to it.”

You rolled your eyes, jumping up to join him. A few days ago you wouldn’t have been nearly comfortable enough to lounge out on the shop’s counters like you were now, but that was before you were a permanent resident of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Before you and Fred had made the deal.

“You want me to do what?”

“Please, Y/N, it would only be for a little while until this all dies down, I swear!”

You groaned and rubbed your temple, wondering how in the world a friendly visit to your friend’s shop would turn into something with much more commitment.

“You’re telling me that you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Why on earth would you need that?”

You were pacing around the shop, trying to avoid customers as to not involve them in this very personal conversation. Fred followed you, pleading for you to help him like the great friend you were.

“I told you,” he said, “after The Daily Prophet did that expo on the shop and made me and George out to be rich sexy businessmen, and I mean where’s the lie, all of my crazy exes have been sending me letters and trying to get back with me. I can’t stand it, there’s so many!”

“Yeah, you were never one for long-term relationships, were you?”

Fred hmphed but quickly picked up with his pleading once again. “You don’t understand, Y/N, it’s absolutely unbearable. It’s common knowledge that George and Angie have been going steady for years now, so he’s got pretty much no one after him. But me? I can’t handle it.”

He dramatically threw himself on one of the empty product tables, causing a couple kids to glance in your direction before quickly becoming distracted by one of the exploding jokes across the shop.

“Oh, woe is me, I have too many beautiful women throwing themselves at me, whatever am I to do?” you mocked, earning a nasty glare from your friend.

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t of upmost importance,” he said, straightening his tie and assuming a more business-like manner. “Those girls are crazy. Hot, yes, but crazy. And all you have to do is pretend to be dating me for a few weeks, a month at best! What do you say?”

“And what do I get out of this?” you asked. Usually, you’d never say no to helping a friend, especially Fred, but pretending to date him and having him practically use you to make other girls mad? You didn’t like the idea in the slightest. Well, maybe seeing the mad girls would be a bonus. You never cared much for most of the girls Fred went out with.

Fred’s face turned into an upward grin as he rolled his sleeves up and leaned forward. “I was hoping you’d say that. I hear that you’re looking for a place to stay, is that right?”

You nodded hesitantly, having an idea of where he was going.

“Well,” he said, pacing back and forth, “to keep up this charade we’ll need to convince everyone, including George and Angelina. You see, Angie’s friends with Alicia, one of the girls who’s been constantly OWLing me, and if she knew this was fake then she’d blow our cover for sure. Which means…”

You gulped.

“You’d have the pleasure of sharing the loft with me. You’d get a room, shared with me, and a nice living space all rent-free, and all you have to do is act all lovey-dovey and occasionally snog me. That sounds like an offer you can’t refuse.”

Unfortunately, he was right. You were tight on money at the moment and really had no other options. It was a deal you had to make if you wanted to stay afloat, no matter how much annoyance and embarrassment it would cost you.

Sighing, you let your shoulders slump, a sign of defeat. “You do know how to negotiate, don’t you?”

“Well I am a businessman.” Fred stuck out his hand, and with a slow, drawn out motion, you shook it.

It was the 4th night of living with the Weasley twins, or maybe 5th? The nights all seemed to blend together as you’d been having more fun than you had since Hogwarts. George and Angelina didn’t seem surprised at all when you and Fred told them your made up story about how you and Fred started seeing each other. In fact, they both said they always knew it would happen. You and Fred shared a laugh about that in bed that night, before he decided to take up all of the space on the small piece of furniture, prompting you to write your third rule.

Overall, it had been a great experience. Couples game night, movie marathons, gossip sessions with Angelina about you and Fred’s sex life (which you didn’t have to fabricate too much, you already knew too much from the incredible amounts of detail he used to provide about his dates with other girls). It was like being thrown back into a dorm room, and your old teenage self was starting to shine through again.

You stared at yourself in Fred’s bathroom mirror, very proud of how you handled Brooklyn earlier that day. She was one of the few girlfriends of Fred’s you never got to meet, probably because they only dated for a short period of time before she left him for the first rich snob to bat an eye at her. Out of everyone you could think of that he dated, she was by far the worst, which meant the next few days would probably be more difficult. It was easy making that bitch angry with smoke coming from her ears, but you didn’t know how good you’d feel about lying to someone a lot nicer than she was.

After brushing your teeth and donning your pajamas, your Hogwarts house colors of course, you crawled into bed and joined Fred, who was reading one of the novels you had recommended to him. “You like it so far?” you asked.

Fred took off his reading glasses and nodded, setting a bookmark in the book before placing it on his nightstand. “Surprisingly, yes. I didn’t think it would be my thing, but so far it’s actually really good.”

“Told ya,” you said as you laid down beside him. You and Fred were comfortable enough to share a bed with few problems except for his stupid long legs. You’d been friends for years and had grown way too comfortable with each other, so squeezing together each night wasn’t too out of the ordinary.

As you snuggled into the covers, Fred following suit, you mentally went over the schedule for the week.

“How many girls are there again?”

Fred paused for a moment, trying to remember what he had sent to each girl. “A few I was able to ward off via letter, the more sane ones, but there are still two more girls who insisted they pay me a visit. Addison’s coming tomorrow and Alicia the day after that.”

You nodded, although you ducted Fred could see it from his position. “Got it. Addison’s sweet, I liked her.”

Fred scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist as he had started doing while you two slept. It was nothing more than platonic, Fred was just a touchy person. You told yourself he would do this with any semi-attractive girl laying in his bed.

“Yeah, sweet girl all right, until you come home to your entire apartment torn apart cuz she thought you were cheating on her because apparently you ‘took an extra 12 minutes of lunch break and it seemed awfully suspicious.’”

Your body reverberated with a small giggle, remembering how Fred had to crash with you at your old place while he was trying to replace all the furniture she had literally torn up. “That’s right, she’s almost as crazy as I am.”

“Almost.”

You wouldn’t have a hard time lying to Addison, you decided. It was actually kind of fun when you did it with Brooklyn. You could get really creative with this one.

You released a deep breath and closed your eyes, nestling back into Fred as he spooned you, claiming it was the only way he wouldn’t sprawl out and kick you in your sleep, which you knew was a lie. He’d find a way to kick you somehow. The git always did.

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

“That was surprisingly better than expected!”

You nodded gleefully, handing Fred a scone and coffee that you had picked up from a nearby bakery. Scaring off Addison had been even more fun than Brooklyn, you and Fred really getting into character and being as lovey dovey as possible. She seemed to take it well, but you wouldn’t be surprised if she triggered the security system tonight trying to break in and destroy the shop.

“And if I’m being honest it was actually kind of fun,” you told him, settling in behind the counter.

You raised your muffin to your mouth to take a bite but Fred’s huge mouth snagged a taste before you could, bending down and taking a chunk out before you could have any. “That’s disgusting,” but you had no disgust lingering in your tone.

“I agree,” he said through mouthfuls of muffin. “It was an excellent way to spend the morning. Bloody hell she would not leave!”

“At least she was nice about it.”

Fred reluctantly agreed before making another move to your muffin, one that this time you anticipated and you swatted his nose with a nearby newspaper. “You have your own, you greedy pig.”

He yanked the paper from your hand, using it as a napkin before the front page caught his eye. He quickly crumpled up the paper and tossed it into a nearby waste bin, something you wouldn’t have been suspicious of had he not done it so nervously.

“Fred, what’s in the paper today?”

He shifted to put himself in between you and the wastebin, his tall figure looming over you. “Not important, just more junk that no one cares about.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. “Frederick Weasley you move this instant.” You tried pushing him out of the way but it was like moving an annoying ginger stone wall. Trying another approach, you darted to the left before doubling back and running right, but before you made it two steps he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Fred!”

You wiggled with all your might and finally made it out of his grasp, snatching the paper and unfolding it to read the headline.

Diagon Alley Playboy Finally Settling Down? Or Is Y/N L/N Just Another of Fred Weasley’s One Night Stands?

The color drained from your face and you slowly lowered the paper, reading the front page again and again. Attached was a blurry picture of you and Fred from the day before with you tucked into the side. The buggers at The Daily Prophet must’ve caught it through the store window.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I tried to keep things quiet, but I guess the press always finds a way in.”

You rubbed your temple slowly, trying to ignore the dread in your stomach. After seeing Harry Potter be brutally torn apart by the press for years, the last thing you wanted was rumors about you going around.

"We could have prevented this!” you exclaimed, slamming the paper onto the desk. “This is complete bullshit. We’re not even dating! I swear I’m going to march straight to their office and--”

“Don’t bother,” Fred said, completely exasperated by the constant coverage of his family. “It does absolutely nothing, trust me. As a close relative to a professional Quidditch player, The Chosen One himself, and his two best friends who literally saved the world, we’ve learned that nothing will keep them away. Especially since they pinned me as the player of the Weasley family.”

“But you’re not!” you said, getting angrier by the second. “So your relationships don’t last long, so what? You’re not some womanizing piece of shit that the papers say you are!”

Chuckling, Fred replied. “I know that, and you know that. But the rest of the world wants drama, so if they want to think I have a new girl in my bed every night I’ll let them.” He shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to,” you grumbled. “You’re one of the best people I know, and the world should know it too.”

Catching you off guard, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your torso and a head lay on your shoulder. “It’s ok, love, just one more day and then you can stay out of the papers forever, I promise.”

Sighing, you turned to face him and let a small smile shine through. “Thanks. But I still think it’s absolute rubbish what they’re doing to your character.”

“Me too, but at least you know what a charming and caring gentleman I am and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Aww,” you coed, “you love me don’t you?”

“Shh, don’t let the press hear! It’ll ruin the image they worked so hard to create.”

You hit your head against Fred’s chest. “Only one more day of this. One more to go.”

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

“Do you know you talk in your sleep?”

“What?” You were so busy trying to find something to wear that you had barely heard what Fred said.

“Last night, when you fell asleep. You said something funny.” He was sitting on the bed, adjusting his work tie and pulling on his socks and shoes. He looked...confused. Like he was trying to solve a complicated problem and he just couldn’t git the pieces together.

“Oh?” you said, growing nervous. Had you dreamt last night? You were racking your brain, hoping you hadn’t said something embarrassing.

You definitely had a dream, and Fred was there. You were at the shop...and Alicia came in! And…

“You were saying ‘Alicia, no, Fred’s mine not yours, I love Fred,” and umm, other stuff like that.” His face was heating up by the second, as was yours.

“Really?” you said through awkward laughs. “Must’ve been preparing for today, huh?”

Fred said nothing, instead choosing to focus on retying his shoes.

“Well,” you said, finally picking out your outfit, “I’m going to change, I’ll meet you down there later, ok?”

He nodded, still confused, and you rushed to use his bathroom before things could get more awkward.

You decided to take a nice, long shower to cool down, hoping that you could somehow wash away the embarrassment. So maybe you had a slight crush on Fred. Who could blame you? You’d been spending the last week cuddled up with him and spending so much time at the shop, not to mention acting like a couple in front of everyone. Who wouldn’t develop feelings?

But for some weird reason you had a feeling that this wasn’t a recent crush, rather something that’s been lurking right beneath the surface for a while. You groaned, hitting your head against the shower wall. This was not the time for this. You had a job to do, and Alicia would be here in 30 minutes so you had to hurry up.

Scampering down the steps 15 minutes later after using a drying spell and getting dressed, you stopped in your tracks when you saw what was happening across the shop. Alicia was here early.

From the looks of it, she had already made herself comfortable, leaning in to talk to Fred, who wasn’t doing anything to discourage the behavior. Instead, he was leaning in as well, laughing at a joke she just made.

Fury burned inside you as you watched the scene unfold. You knew from the beginning that Alicia would be the hardest ex to deal with. Not only had she been Fred’s longest and most intimate relationship to date, but she was also a really nice person, meaning you had no reason to hate her. But at this moment you did.

Alicia leaned closer, her nose almost touching Fred. What should you do? Did he want your help getting rid of her? Was he still harboring feelings and actually looking to reconnect? You saw him slowly lean in toward her, which you took as a sign to continue with your plan.

You were almost running when you reached Fred, who turned and seemed happy to see you. “Just in time,” he said the Alicia, “Alicia, you remember--”

You cut him off with a kiss, the third kiss you’d promised him. Except this one wasn’t one of the pecks you described on your terms and conditions. You pulled Fred down into one of if not the most passionate kiss you’d ever had, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him closer to you.

Almost immediately he pulled off of you, looking more bewildered than you had ever seen him. “I…”

“Well that was quite the spectacle.”

You looked over to where Alicia was standing, smirking at the two of you. Contrary to what you had expected, she actually seemed rather calm and actually amused at what she had just seen.

“S-sorry,” you said. Fred tried to say something but he was too dumbstruck to even get a word out. He just stood there, eyes wide and mouth twitching.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked. “I’m supposed to be meeting my fiancé for breakfast later so I can just come back another time if that works for you.”

“Your...fiancé?”

“Yeah!” Alicia beamed as she showed you her left hand, her ring finger adorned with the most beautiful engagement ring you’d ever seen. “Actually, the reason I’m here is because I just asked Fred if he wanted to be in the wedding as a groomsman. Or bridesmaid. Whatever works for him. Thankfully the big oaf said yes before you laid that on him, or else I think I’d be waiting a lot longer for an answer.”

Fred was still as frozen as ever, making you and Alicia chuckle. “Hey, it’s been forever since we’ve caught up, how about you and Fred go on a double date with me and Lee sometime?”

It took you a second to understand why Lee would be there, until it dawned on you. “You’re marrying Lee Jordan?!”

She couldn’t hold back her laughter at this, loving to see your reaction. “That I am! You’re obviously invited, I’m sending invitations out soon. I’ll hope to see you there, and don’t be afraid to reach out, alright?”

“Y-yeah, will do,” you said. Alicia looked up at Fred and then to you and winked, before waving goodbye and leaving the shop.

You refused to make eye contact with Fred, too embarrassed to even begin to talk to him. Maybe you’d just take 5 and take a walk down the street? That would help distract your brain from whatever just happened.

“Real?”

You turned around to the source of the voice, a now more interactive Fred. “What?”

“Real,” he repeated. He shook his head a few times, blinking rapidly. “Sorry, I just mean, that kiss was umm, it was real.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. The fact that you had kissed Fred, and an actual kiss at that, was finally hitting you. “Yeah, it was real, I guess.”

He took a step closer, his face assuming the puzzled look from the bedroom earlier. “Was...was what you said real too? From the dream, I mean?”

Now it was you who was frozen, feet stuck to the ground with no way out. What should you say? Confess your feelings and hope for the best? Or deny everything and try to work your way around this mess? You didn’t have time to think nor ration. Just act.

“Yeah. It was real.”

Fred nodded, pursing his lips and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Cool.” He hesitated. “Would it be super crazy out of the blue if I asked you to maybe go out with me sometime. For real?”

A smile rose to your face, hoping that this wasn’t a joke. Slowly, almost shyly, you nodded. “Yeah, it would be a little crazy. But I’d say yes.”

Fred smiled too, a big toothy grin that only made you smile wider, before pulling you into a side hug. “Good, because you’re a little crazy too, so we’ll match on our date.”

“You’re a big dork,” you said, returning the hug. “What will the paper say when they see you with the same girl? They’ll probably explode!”

“I hope so,” he replied as he gave you a loving squeeze. “What I’m worried about is how we’re supposed to explain to George and Angelina that we’ve been faking this whole time and it’s only now getting real.”

“Eh, that’s a problem for another time. Right now, we’ve got some more pressing matters.” You gestured to the front window where a reporter was holding a huge camera, trying to snap a good picture of the two of you.

“I’ll handle it, grab me the dungbombs.”

“Yes, sir!”

You ran to assist Fred, head rushing with thoughts of first dates and future ones down the road. Of attending Lee and Alicia’s wedding together and getting completely wasted with each other. Of sleeping together each night, holding each other in an embrace that was now true and deep and caring. In a relationship that was now real.

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@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasleyimagine #fredweasley #fred #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fake dating #fake dating au #freddie

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Full Service {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooo! this idea was rolling around in my brain for a while, but it took a bit for me to get it just right. so, here’s the final finished product!

**I used a translation app for all of the Italian in this story, so I apologize for any mistakes or grammatical errors. all Italian will be in italics, with the translations following the dialogue in parenthesis.

**This is MY OWN INTERPRETATION of Maurizio Gucci’s character, as portrayed by Adam Driver in the upcoming film, House Of Gucci.

warnings: smut. maurizio calling reader “tesoro”™️. a tiny bit of fluff at the very end. maid/boss roleplay (lowkey?? except reader’s actually a maid lol). oral. no aftercare. dirty talk and name-calling/degradation, but in italian ;)

(possible) tw’s: indifelity/extramarital affair. implied age gap (reader is over 21, no more than 10 years difference).

word count: 2.7k

“Tesoro” means “Treasure” in Italian (an affectionate nickname).

You’d just begun cleaning the marbled kitchen when Mr. Gucci arrives home. You turn around and offer him a small smile, which he ignores, shrugging the briefcase off his shoulder.

He immediately walks into his office and shuts the door without a single word or glance, and you probably wouldn’t see him again for the rest of the evening. That’s usually how it went. Patrizia wasn’t home yet, a surprise considering she’s usually home all day when you come to clean.

You’ve developed quite the crush for Mr. Gucci as of late, although you’d never admit it aloud. He was a bit older than you, not to mention married. But, you couldn’t help it, he was unbelievably handsome, successful, and quick-witted when he wanted to be. Usually after a drink or two.

But, he was a man very dedicated to his work, which often left him with a stern demeanor and a harsh tone of voice. He barely paid you mind, especially not when work was waiting for him in his office.

You continued to clean for another hour or so; it was a mansion, after all, and the kitchen was at least three times the size of your bedroom. Plus, the extensive marble surfaces and stainless steel appliances require your full service. You were so immersed in your work that you didn’t even notice Mr. Gucci’s presence behind you.

Only when you turned around did you realize not only him, but the close proximity between your bodies. You gasp, backing up against the cabinetry.

“Oh! Signore Gucci, mi scuso. Non sapevo che ci fossi.” (Oh! Mr. Gucci, my apologies. I didn’t know you were there.)

His eyes look you up and down for a brief moment before returning to meet yours, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

“Va bene, piccoletto. Non volevo farti da parte.” (It’s alright, little one. I didn’t mean to startle you.)

He sighs, looking away.

“Volevo informarvi che Patrizia non tornera stasera. Ha deciso di restare la notte in una casa di amici.” (I wanted to inform you that Patrizia won’t be coming back this evening. She’s decided to stay the night at a friends house.)

You could sense that there was something else going on, but you didn’t prod further, deciding that it was none of your business. You nod up at him, a bit confused as to why he’s telling you this. And why he has to be standing so damn close to tell you.

“Grazie per avermi informato, signore. Ho quasi finito di pulire la giornata, quindi saro via tra un’ora circa.” (Thank you for letting me know, sir. I am almost done cleaning for the day, so I’ll be gone in an hour or so.)

Maurizio reaches his hand up to hold the side of your face, thumb swiping across your bottom lip. You freeze, tensing beneath his touch.

“Da quando hai iniziato a lavorare qui, ho trovato sempre piu difficile concentrarsi sul mio lavoro. Sai perche, piccoletto?” (You know, ever since you began working here, I’ve found it more and more difficult to focus on my work. Do you know why that is, little one?)

“No, signore, non lo so.” (No, sir, I don’t know.)

He runs a single finger down from my lips, tracing a straight line over my throat before it toys with the collar of my uniform.

“La tua uniforme...mi sta distrando.” (Your uniform is...distracting for me.)

The breath hitches in your throat as his fingers rub the material of the smoothed-down collar. His gaze flicks down to where his thumb and forefinger are.

“Quando ti vedo,” (Whenever I see you,)

He begins, leaning in a little closer.

“Trovo che i miei pantaloni cominciino a sentirsi stretti, il che e strano perche ho sistemato tutto il mio costume.” (I find that my pants begin to feel tight, which is strange because I have all of my suits custom fitted.)

You nearly choke on your breath as his hand travels down the curves of your body, traversing the scoop of your hip before resting just above the hem of your uniform dress.

“E strano, sig. Gucci.” (That is odd, Mr. Gucci.)

His hand begins massaging the side of your thigh gently, and he leans down just a bit further, mouth now right in front of your ear. His hot breath sends a chill down your spine.

“Sta succedendo adesso, in effetti. Pensi di potermi aiutare con questo problema, Y/N?” (It’s happening right now, in fact. Do you think you could help me with this problem, Y/N?)

He presses you up against the cabinets, bodies flush together. A small groan escapes his lips when his obvious erection slides on your lower stomach.

You’ve never been as perplexed and aroused as you are in this moment. The burn between your thighs is nearly unbearable, and as much as you hate to admit it, you wanted this.

“Sono al suo servizio, signore.” (I am at your service, sir.)

Maurizio smirks, hooking a finger under the hem and pulling the stretchable fabric of your uniform dress out, then releasing it, allowing it to snap back into place on your outer thigh.

“In ginocchio, piccoletto.” (On your knees then, little one.)

Without hesitation, you slide down onto your knees, mouth watering as you look up at him, awaiting his next command. He cups your cheek, gently swiping his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Bellissima e obbediente, capisco. Bene, bene.” (Beautiful and obedient, I see. Good, good.)

You bite your lip as he pats your cheek, then runs a hand over the bulge in his pants, sighing softly at the contact. His fingers curl up underneath, cupping and squeezing his balls while his thumb presses down on the head, rubbing it. He groans, letting out a shaky breath afterwards.

“Vedi cosa mi fai fare, Y/N? Devo scendere e massaggiarmi cosi, togliendo tempo di lavoro prezioso.” (Do you see what you make me do, Y/N? I have to reach down and rub myself like this, taking away precious work time.)

You’re soaked already, clit throbbing, begging for attention. You whine softly, chewing your lip as you resist the urge to lunge forward and run your face over his clothed length.

He smirks.

“Questo ti eccita, piccolo? Ti piace immaginarmi di toccarmi cosi nel mio ufficio?” (Does that thought excite you, little one? Do you like imagining me touching myself like this in my office?)

Your eager nod only spurs him on, hips pushing forward into his palm. He quickly takes his hand away, taking a small step closer so that the bulge is mere centimeters from your lips. Your jaw slacks and your breath becomes hot and heavy, mouth eager to worship him.

His large hand gently wraps around the back of your head, pushing your head forward, encouraging you to touch him. You don’t require any further invitation, mouthing at his length while your nose drags against it.

He widens his stance, spreading his legs apart as his hips start to grind against your mouth.

“Oh, e cosi entusiasta. Mi piace, merda.” (Oh, she’s so eager. I love it, shit.)

The back of your head begins to hurt as it’s pressed further and further against the cabinet handles, but you don’t care, reaching around to grab his ass to pull him further into you. Even he seems surprised by this, asscheeks clenching as he suddenly thrusts forward with a low grunt.

Maurizio wraps his hands in your hair, keeping you still as he pulls back, chest heaving slightly. His pupils are blown wide and he grabs your chin, thumb pressing down into the flesh.

“Apri bene.” (Open wide.)

He says, grinning down at you as he begins pulling his belt buckle loose.

Soon, he undoes his pants and pulls himself out from beneath the restrictive material, humming in satisfaction as his length bobs in front of you. His hands rest on either side of your head as he guides his weeping head towards your mouth. You open for him, and he leans forward, pushing into your mouth.

You immediately begin choking and gagging, but he just keeps going, pushing inch after inch inside. His abdomen tenses and his back curls when he’s shoved all of himself in your mouth, letting out a shaky exhale.

“Cosi, oh bella ragazza, e cosi bella la bocca.” (That’s it, oh good girl, such a good mouth.)

You’re forced to remain still as your throat constricts, head pinned against the cabinets with his hands on either side. Once you adjust to the new intrusion, Maurizio pulls back before thrusting forward again, growling under his breath.

“Cazzo, e una cosa buona per me.” (Fuck, that’s good, so good for me.)

All you can do is moan as your boss begins fucking your mouth, eyelids brimming with tears at the constant touch of his tip on your uvula. He bends over, supporting himself on the counter with an arm while his hand tightens in your hair, thrusts getting faster.

“Guarda questa bocca che mi allunga per il cazzo. Che brava ragazza, prendendo il cazzo dei capi come se fosse troia.” (Look at this little mouth stretching out for my cock. What a good girl, taking her bosses cock like the slut she is.)

You moan loudly, hand swiftly snaking down between your legs, fingertips pressing on the throbbing nub to provide relief. When he sees you do this, it only seems to encourage him further, one foot scooting forward so that he’s now almost completely bent over you.

His hips are becoming desperate, now, losing their rhythm as his inevitable release builds.

“Ah, sapevo che avresti avuto una bella bocca, Y/N. Ho sempre saputo che saresti ansioso di prendere il mio uccello, disposto a lasciarti usare cosi.” (Ah, I knew you’d have a good little mouth, Y/N. I always knew you’d be eager to take my cock, willing to let me use you like this.)

You’re sobbing around him now, tears streaming down your cheeks at the sheer intensity of the arousal you’re experiencing. He looked so good like this: hair a mess, glasses fogged, panting and grunting with each thrust, all while he slams his cock into your mouth without relent.

Suddenly, he pulls out and stumbles back, hands gripping the edge of the countertop as he catches his breath. He stares down at you with a look of pure hunger, of carnal lust, and it makes you shudder.

“Alzati e piegati al bancone. Subito.” (Stand up and bend yourself over the counter. Now.)

He strokes himself rapidly as you stand up on shaky legs and bend over, spreading your legs. He’s quick to come up behind you, grabbing your hips to pull you back a bit so that your hips were off the edge.

You gasp when he yanks the skirt up over your hips, revealing your creamy globes and the red lace thong nestled between them. He growls, making quick work of your panties, shoving them down off your hips before running his fingers along your folds delicately, just barely brushing them.

Maurizio smirks when your hips try to grind down on him, seeking the friction you so desperately needed. He smacks your ass promptly, causing a choked cry to leave your throat.

“Stai fermo, Y/N.” (Stay still, Y/N.)

Two of his digits suddenly breach your soaked entrance, pushing up into you. You gasp softly, hips jerking slightly as he begins fucking his thick fingers up into you. His hand spreads across your lower back, keeping you still as he curls his digits up to rub and tease that spongy spot on your walls.

“C-Cazzo, sig. Gucci, ti prego. Scopami, la voglio cosi male.” (F-Fuck, Mr. Gucci, please. Please fuck me, I want it so badly.)

He grins, giving your g-spot a few more rubs before pulling his fingers out, smearing the slick over your lips.

“Succhiali, piccoletto. Assaggiati sulle dita.” (Suck them, little one. Taste yourself on my fingers.)

You open your mouth and moan around his digits as you suck them clean, tongue swirling around them before he takes them out. His tip pokes at your entrance and he runs himself over your folds to collect some lubricant before positioning himself behind you.

“Pronta?” (Ready?)

You don’t even have time to respond before he shoves his hips forward, sheathing himself fully inside you. Your eyes almost bug out of your skull before squeezing shut, a loud gasp coming from your lips. He isn’t necessarily hung, but he’s certainly the biggest and thickest you’ve ever taken.

His fingers dig into your hips as he remains still, allowing you to adjust to his size. After a moment, he draws back before thrusting forward again, building a steady rhythm with his hips. Small noises come from his lips as he fucks you into the countertop.

“Si, cazzo. Cosi stretto e piccolo, sapevi di sentirti bene circondato dal mio uccello.” (Yes, fuck yes. So tight and little, knew you’d feel good wrapped around my cock.)

Your insides clench at his whispered words.

“Quante volte ci ha pensato, signore?” (How many times have you thought of this, sir?)

“Troppi per contare.” (Too many to count.)

He growls, hips suddenly bucking forward out-of-rhythm.

“Ogni volta che mi sono toccata, ho pensato a te, a questa stronzetta. Mi chiedevo se fossi stretto e ho pensato che sarebbe bello dividerla a meta con il mio cazzo.” (Every time I touched myself, I thought of you, of this little cunt. I wondered if you’d be tight, and I thought of how good it’d feel to split you in half with my cock.)

Maurizio puts his hand under your thigh and puts it up on the counter, bending down so his chin rests on your shoulder.

“Te lo sei immaginato anche questo, piccolo? Hai pensato a me quando ti sei toccata?” (Did you imagine this too, little one? Did you think about me when you touched yourself?)

You nod.

“Si, signore. Ti pensavo cosi, immaginavo che fossero le tue dita dentro di mi invece che le mie.” (I did, sir. I thought of you like this, imagined it was your fingers inside me instead of my own.)

“Ragazza sporca.” (Dirty girl.)

He snarls, pounding into you harder, hips spurred on by your words.

You’re close, now, walls beginning to pulse around him. He feels this, one hand wrapping around your throat while the other trails down around your front, fingers seeking your clit.

His hand tightens around your neck, fingers gripping your jaw.

“Lo sento, tu sei vicino, piccolo. Forze, sborra intorno al mio uccello. Copri il tuo capo nella sporca fiaca e mostragli che porchetta sei.” (I can feel it, you’re close, little one. Come on, cum around my cock. Cover your boss in your filthy slick, show him what a little slut you are.)

With only a few circles over your erect clit, coupled with his cock stroking your walls rapidly and the dirty manner in which he was speaking to you, your release comes within seconds. You moan hoarsely, lungs depleted of some oxygen as his hand tightens around your throat.

“Cazzo, arrivo!” (Fuck, I’m cumming!)

He ruts desperately into you, chasing his climax as he fucks you through yours. At the last minute, he pulls out, furiously jerking his cock before thick hot ropes of cum shoot from his tip, painting your bare ass. He grunts and groans through the whole thing, stroking himself through it before squeezing the head, letting the final drop land on your skin.

Both of you take a moment to catch your breaths and re-center yourselves in reality. Maurizio tucks himself back into his pants before walking over to grab a paper towel, wetting it slightly. He wipes all the drying seed off of your skin for you, bending down to pull your panties back up and your dress back down.

Your legs are shaky as you stand back up, smoothing out the front of your uniform. Much to your surprise, Mr. Gucci didn’t leave right away, instead turning you around and bending down for a kiss.

The kiss was gentle and tender, a stark contrast to everything that's happened up until this point. His large hand cupped your cheek and his thumb ran along your cheekbone before he pulled away, offering you a small smile.

“Grazie, piccolo.” (Thank you, little one.)

You return the smile.

“Certo, signore.” (Of course, sir.)

Turns out, the marble and stainless steel weren’t the only things that required your full service today.

#adamdriverwriter #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver smut #adam driver fluff #house of gucci #maurizio gucci #maurizio gucci smut #maurizio gucci x reader #maurizio gucci x you #maurizio gucci x reader smut #tw: extramarital affair #tw: infidelity

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Soulbonds and Fairy Dust

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 9/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in. Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name. Also on AO3 here

Sigyn took a moment as she entered the palace to use magic to change her clothes to an Asgardian style dress so she didn’t stand out as much. She was remembering more of her memories just by being home and knew automatically what the dress needed to look like in order to fit in. She made sure the green lines of power on her arm were covered when she did. Loki was so uncomfortable with what had happened that she was certain that he was going to reject the bond, going to reject her.

Even though she could see the bond was shimmering between the marks on her skin and the marks on his. She could see the soul binding. It was part of her nature to see such things after all.

Loki strode with such speed that Sig and Thor had to rush to keep up with him. They finally reached Frigga’s suite and Loki knocked, waiting for someone to answer for once instead of just barging in. Sigyn remembered that they used to just barge in. She remembered this place and these people. Now that shew as home, she was remembering her life there.

Frigga opened the door herself for them. Apparently they were expected. “Come in, darlings,” she bid the three of them, noting Loki’s fear and anxiety etched clearly on his face. She reached up to touch his cheek reassuringly.

He gave her a warm loving smile and pulled her into a hug. Mama’s boy never changed, no matter what was going on in his life. Sig couldn’t help smiling at the familiar old gesture. “It’s alright, darling. Whatever it is, it’s alright,” Frigga reassured him as she hugged him back. Whatever it was, whatever was wrong, it couldn’t be worse than her son coming home in chains because of a crime he didn’t choose to commit.

Loki released Frigga and showed her the spirals of power on his arm. “Have you seen anything like this before?” The purple lines radiated power as they spiraled up his arm, glowing softly with the new soulbond.

Frigga gave him a warm smile while Thor and Sig watched on, anxious for her response. “Of course I have, darling,” she told him gently and led her three children, Sigyn included in that count, into her sitting room proper so they could all discuss the matter. She also took the opportunity to say hello to her other son and kiss his cheek and to welcome Sig back to Asgard. She noted the green swirls of power on the back of Sig’s hand, which she hadn’t been able to cover with her sleeve. She wasn’t surprised that Sigyn was Loki’s soulbond.

Frigga turned to Loki once her three children were all seated on various couches and chairs around her sitting room with tea. She let the illusion fade from her own arm where light and dark gold lines of power swirled together from her hand up her arm. “It is a soulbond, darling. The mark of soulmates,” she told Loki gently. She knew that he knew what it was. He just needed the confirmation. He needed the truth. She hoped her suspicion that Loki would demand the soulbond be broken was unfounded. She watched his brows furrow while he thought over the implications and she waited patiently, sipping on her tea.

Loki didn’t think he deserved a soulmate, or that he would ever have one, or find her if he did have one. “I actually have a soul mate? Me?” The disbelief was obvious in his voice and Frigga suddenly knew the problem. He didn’t think he was worthy of a soulmate, not after the alien invasion, not after the things he’d done.

“Yes, darling. That is the only cause for those marks,” Frigga replied gently. She didn’t want to hurt her son.

Loki was in absolute shock. They were all in shock as soulbonds weren’t the most common of things, even on Asgard. Though the royal family tended to have more than their fair share of them. Loki never thought he deserved one, not after all the mistakes he’d made. Again, Frigga waited patiently for Loki to digest that piece of information and for his brain to start working again.

“What does this mean, Mother?” He asked, sounding like a small boy in his demand for answers. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around all of this.

“It means that Lady Sigyn is your soulmate,” she told him patiently. She hesitated, but continued. “The soulbond increases both of your magic, plus increases things like your telepathic bond to the other. There are other perks of course. Though the bond does have one catch,” she paused again and waited to be sure she had all three of their attention before she would continue. “If one half of a soulbond dies, so does the other,”

Loki did not at all like the sound of that. Thanos was still a threat looming over his head and he fully expected that threat to come back. He didn’t want to risk Sig’s life. He didn’t want her life in the balance if Thanos came calling again.

Frigga read the expressions flashing on his face and waited for his conclusion, or more questions. She also noted Sigyn’s expression. Sigyn was sitting just out of Loki’s ability to see she and she was excited at the prospect of having a home in someone, though she was also wary that Loki was going to break the soulbond. Frigga was observant, and knew her son well, so she spoke again. “Thor, why don’t she take Lady Sigyn and show her to her suite. It’s the same one she had as a child,” Frigga ordered, dismissing them both. Loki wouldn’t talk to her candidly in front of witnesses, even witnesses like his brother and soulmate. And he needed to be able to speak candidly.

“Yes, Mother,” Thor replied and offered Sigyn a hand. The two of them left quickly, though Sig glanced worriedly back at Loki before she left. She wouldn’t disobey Mama Frigga, though and agreed to be escorted by Thor. None of them would dare disobey Mama Frigga.

Frigga turned her attention back to Loki when Sigyn and Thor had gone. “You seem displeased by this news,” she started gently once they were alone.

“I’m still in danger, Mother. Being on Midgard doesn’t change that. The news you just gave me makes it dangerous for Sigyn to be bonded to me,” Loki told her, speaking his concerns. Frigga knew about Thanos and the truth of why he had led the alien invasion on New York.

“There is always danger surrounding us, my darling. That does not mean we should abandon happiness when we can find it, simply due to fear. And you are currently bonded to Sigyn,” she reminded him. Her voice and tone were as gentle and kind as usual.

His heart broke when he asked the question that he needed answered. “Is there any way we can remove it? I don’t want to put her in danger. I don’t want to bind her to a monster,” he hesitated before he admitted the rest. “I love her too much!”

“You are no monster,” Frigga snapped at him firmly with a mother’s conviction. Loki gave her a small smile at her automatic dismissal of his self-pity. It was definitely a mother’s reaction. Frigga sighed. “It can be removed. If that is truly what you wish…"

Loki sighed. He didn’t agree with Frigga saying he wasn’t a monster, but she was his mother and that was her job. “I don’t know…” he put his head in his hands, frustration evident and rolling off of him in waves. “I’ve never dealt with something like this before. I love her. I have since we were children. And yes, I need to become acquainted with the woman she’s become. But I don’t want her in danger or tied to a monster for eternity, either!”

Frigga moved to sit next to him on the couch and pulled him into her arms, letting him rest his head on her shoulder, just as she had when he was a child and needed comfort. “Of course you have never dealt with anything like this, before,” she told him gently and stroked his hair. “But can you really live with never touching her again? That would be the cost of breaking the bond,”

Loki shook his head emphatically. “I don’t think I could live with that,” he told her softly.

“Then you will have to learn to live with the bond, darling. I know it’s difficult being told you’re soulmates when you just found her again, but can you really imagine life without her now that you have her back?” Frigga asked just as gently, guiding him to the answer that would make him happiest.

Loki shook his head again. “I thought she was dead. I mourned her for centuries. I never really believed I would ever see her again. I can’t give her up now that I finally have her back,” he said with conviction in his tone. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, lose her again.

“We all believed her dead,” Frigga stroked his hair while she held him in her arms. “I can break the bond if that’s truly what you wish, or you can treat that girl like the most precious thing in your life, earn her love, and finally find the happiness you have been missing since she was taken from us,”

Loki wrapped his arms around Frigga. “I will do my best,” he promised her after a moment. It only took a moment. He knew what he wanted, but it was still hard. He couldn’t give up Sig. Not again. “I’ve never had someone really care for me besides you and her. It will be an adjustment,”

Frigga hugged him tighter and smiled warmly. “She did care for you. Even as children. Or do you really expect me to believe that the incident with the bilgesnipe was her fault?” Sig had lied and claimed that incident so Loki wouldn’t get into even more trouble, since he’d been grounded at the time.

That drew a laugh from Loki. “You always could see right through me, Mother,” he told her warmly.

“I am her mother of course I can,” she told him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You will be fine, my darling. A soulbond is a heavy responsibility, yes, but the easy way out of it would just hurt you both,” she reminded him. “I will have the texts pertaining to soulbonds sent to her chambers. In the meantime, don’t you have a lady to reassure of you affections?” She teased. She’d seen how Loki had been acting since he came home and he would have to reassure Sigyn that he cared for her and make it up to her.

Loki nodded and released Frigga, kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you, Mother,”

“Anytime, my darling,” she told him warmly and saw him out of her suite.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #soulbonds and fairy dust #chapter 9 #rewrite #nekoamamori

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rora-s · 3 years

Text

The Derivative Chapter 3: Balance

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 2

I trudged into my grandfather's house and ungracefully collapsed on the sofa. Charlie who was doing work on the coffee table looked over at me with an amused expression. “Hello”

“Hello” I murmured, my arm draped over my face.

“School that bad huh?” Charlie asked.

“High school sucks when you’re a genius” I declared exasperatedly thinking back to the extensive argument I had with my english teacher over the wording of a phrase.

“High school sucks for almost everybody” Charlie sighed continuing to work.

Moments later I heard my grandfather enter the room so I sat up. “Hey” he greeted us both with a nod but gave me a confused look “I didn’t think you were coming here today. Not that I’m not glad to see you” he quickly added the last bit.

I shrugged and gave a small smile “got a text from Don while I was in class telling me to come here today and he cleared it with the school so I could get on the bus. Here I am”

“Guess that means he’ll be working late” Alan muttered then looked to Charlie again who was shifting papers trying to cover some of his work “no classes today?” he inquired of the mathematician.

“Nah” Charlie objected.

“You working on something for Don?” Alan asked, eyeing his son's work.

“It’s a um.. It’s a genetics project” Charlie answered “for a… for a friend in the bio department actually.”

“A he or a she?” Alan asked as he adjusted the jacket he’d just put on.

“Huh?” Uncle C looked to his father in confusion.

“Your friend. Male or female?” Alan clarified and I rolled my eyes.

“Does it matter?” Charlie scoffed with mild annoyance.

“No, of course not I was just curious.” Alan murmured “I just thought maybe, you know…” Alan trailed, finishing his thought with a pointed look rather than words.

“Well, listen. Dad, whenever I have a girlfriend, I will let you know by, um” Charlie paused a moment ”by putting a note on the refrigerator” I scoffed as Charlie chuckled.

“Good. Well, that’s nice.” Alan muttered then glanced up at me “what about you, any social progress?”

I rolled my eyes laying back down on the couch “I don’t have any friends let alone romantic entanglements”

“Touche” Alan scoffed “though you should try and work on that”

“I hear that a lot,” I grumbled.

Alan hummed in reply as he headed for the door. “Uh, where you going right now?” Charlie asked.

“My book club” Alan replied easily.

“Mm-hmm and where’s that?” Charlie asked. I rolled my head to look over at my uncle, curious as to why he was so curious.

“Phil’s house.” Gramps explained “Raymond Avenue. You keeping track of me?”

“No” Charlie chuckled “I’m just curious”

“Oh” Alan muttered and gave me a look I just shrugged.

Charlie reopened his laptop as Alan left. Though I notice him shifting his things slightly to block my view. I sat up slowly “genetics project right? About what?” I reached out to turn the laptop around.

“No!” the man quickly snapped smacking my hand lightly with his pencil to ward me off as he closed the device quickly. “Just don’t look at that,” he said quickly.

“Why not?” I questioned.

“It’s uh… it’s my friends research” he spoke frantically as he gathered up his things “and- and they don’t want anyone else really looking at it alright so I’ll just- I’ll just go work somewhere else” He’d gathered up all his things in a frantic cluster and scurried from the room.

“Okay then” I muttered looking after him. He was hiding something, that was obvious. However, I didn’t care that much to snoop around right now. So I laid back down on the couch for a well deserved after school nap.

____________

“So what? Traffic downtown’s always terrible.” Gramps defended as Don and Charlie attempted to deter him from going to volunteer.

“Well it’s worse than usual” Don explained, “There's a Sig Alert because of an accident on the 2, and you’ll blow your whole day in the car.”

“Well it’s not like I’ll be alone. I'll have Abby with me to chat” Alan said looking back at me from where I was reading on the floor.

“What?” I asked, perplexed.

“You’re coming to help me. We talked about it yesterday” Alan explained then sighed as I continued to give him a blank look “you know you may remember everything you read but speaking to you it’s in one ear and out the other” I just shrugged in response, taking a bite of my apple snack and looking back to the book I was reading.

“And also downtown there’s that, uh…? Charlie looked to his brother for help and they began to talk over each other.

“Yeah, there’s that protest march” Don explained.

“Over on uh…” Charlie again teetered off as Don spoke more.

“It’s a big deal they’re expecting thousands of people”

“It’s a big deal” Charlie reiterated “meanwhile you could be doing something fun. Hey, hey like I don’t know you could go bowling” everyone in the room turned to the youngest Eppes man in mild confusion.

“Bowling?” Alan questioned then sighed “Abby come on” he gestured and I rose from my place sitting reluctantly.

“Or golf” Don spoke quickly “you keep saying you’re going to play golf.” I slid past the brothers “it’s a beautiful day for a round or two”

“It’s been two years since I retired,” Gramps told them “and almost a year since your mother died. Now I’m finding there are certain things I would like to do with my life. And one of them is to volunteer where people need me and another to spend time with my lovely granddaughter” he rested a hand on my shoulder “I’ve made, and though she might not remember it, Abby made a commitment to be someplace today and if that means sitting in my car, fine. But I’m certainly not going to skip out to go golfing or bowling” Alan started to lead me toward the door.

“What if we told you…” Charlie began

“Charlie” Don interrupted his brother with a warning tone repeating his name multiple times as he continued to speak.

“There’s a really good reason you shouldn’t.” Charlie finished.

Don shot him a glare but his eyes flashed to meet mine before softening as he looked back to his brother.

“Well clearly there’s something you’re not telling us” Alan inferred.

“Does it have to do with the math Uncle C tried to hide from me?” I asked softly and the brother’s exchanged a look. Charlie’s looking rather apologetic.

“That you can’t tell us,” Gramps clarified. “But you don’t want us to go downtown?”

“Yeah” Don finally voiced “I think it’s a good idea not to go downtown. Okay? Can we leave it at that?”

Alan paused for a moment and I looked at each of the men “well I’ll take your concerns under consideration.” With that he turned and headed toward the kitchen.

There was a beat of silence and I let off a breath “you know I really hate secrets” I muttered, shooting a look at Don who opened his mouth to respond but before he could I had turned to leave the room I heard him sigh in defeat as I walked away.

_________

3rd POV.

Don sighed as Abby stormed off abandoning whatever feeble excuse he was about to make. “Wish we could tell dad and Abby not to leave the house for a couple weeks.” Charlie voiced.

“Right. Well, good luck with that.” Don muttered in annoyance “I may be new at this parenting thing but even I can guess that quarantining a sixteen year old girl isn’t going to work.”

“I’ve gone months without leaving the house in the past” Charlie explained “and it’s not like Abby has friends to visit”

Don scoffed “yeah guess her being antisocial does help with this” Don let off a breath trying to quell the balloon of anxiety that was his parental instincts before they exploded. Charlie shrugged slightly and Don found even the gesture annoying right now with his younger brother “bowling” he muttered turning to leave.

“Yeah bowling” Charlie called after him, agitation also apparent in his voice.

Don headed into the house after his daughter, he found her in his old room with her nose in a book. “Listen,” he began “I don’t want you going to the shelter with your grandfather alright and that’s the end of it”

“No it’s not” Abby objected, snapping her book closed and sitting up “if I want to go help people I can. Especially since Gramps already said I could and so did you before you started acting all weird and keeping stuff from me.”

“Abby it’s not my choice to keep things from you” Don explained carefully “but with my line of work there are certain things that I can’t talk about. Now I’m your father you have to do what I say and I say you’re not going to that shelter.”

“Bullshit” Abby spat angrily, getting to her feet. “You can’t expect me to just listen to you without an explanation. I’m not some mindless drone”

Don took a deep breath trying to keep his anger down “I know what’s best for you Abby so just shut up and listen to me alright? You’re not going and that is final”

“Yeah right” Abby practically snarled “and I suppose you’re going to be around to stop me? You’ll just be at work while I’m dumped here and you know it. Father my ass you’re barely a supervisor” with that she shoved past him and out of the room.

Don didn’t bother to stop her or go after her this time. They both needed time to cool down. He let off an aggravated growl and plopped onto the bed. She had a point he had been working a lot lately. Still, he knew going downtown was a bad idea. The last thing he wanted was for her to get sick. His stomach churned at the idea of her ending up like the victims he had seen in the hospital. Why couldn’t she just listen to him? He let off a breath as his phone beep. He was needed back at the office. So he rose and headed out he didn’t see Abby as he left but he knew they’d need to talk later.

______________

Abby POV.

“Have a good day” Alan murmured as he poured soup into a woman’s bowl.

“Thank you” she nodded and shuffled down the line where I handed her a pb&j with a gloved hand.

There was a bout of loud laughter and three kids of varying ages came darting past the table. A woman followed behind yelling at them to slow down and watch where they were going.

“I feel sorry for her” Alan voiced with a sigh “having to raise her kids in a place like this”

Abby shrugged “it’s not a horrible place. I’ve been in worse ones”

Alan gave her a side look “you were in a homeless shelter?”

Abby shrugged “sometimes when the weather was bad or we were having car trouble me and my mom would stay the night in one. Came for meals quite a bit when I was younger, less the older I got but I had a lot of soup and pb&j growing up. Or mcdonalds dollar menu”

Alan hummed and was quiet for a minute “you know your mother..” he paused seeming to collect his thoughts “and- and your father they might not always have seemed or seem like the best parents but I’m sure that Janice did the best she could for you and Don will as well”

“I know” I replied with a slight smile at his concern “my mom just didn’t have the life skills needed to make it in the world when I was born. We managed just fine even if it wasn’t perfect. She was actually taking online classes to try and get a degree before she died” I paused thinking back on the memories.

“Really? Well I bet with a kid like you your mother must have been a very bright woman” Alan decreed. They were quiet for a moment before Alan sighed “maybe you should have listened to your father and stayed I mean he is your father you need to listen to him”

I sighed leaning on the table “with me and my mom it was always more of a negotiation. I was smart enough to take care of myself most of the time and she was always distracted by something. I got used to not listening. No one who gave me orders ever really had my best interest at heart before”

“Well I can promise you that Donnie does” Gramps explained “both of you are still learning. Him how to guide a human being and you how to be guided. It’s a tricky process but I think once you both figure it out you’ll be better for it.”

I smiled lightly “thanks Grandpa I’ll keep that in mind.” Alan nodded and turned to the next person in line. As I dwelled in my thoughts a bit.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

3rd POV.

Abby poked at a bug with a pencil. As the creature scurried along the floor of their motel room. The door opened and the girl looked up to see her mother stumbling in. The woman let off a breath and clasped on one of the beds.

Abby got to her feet and hurried over jumping up on the bed. “Mommy! Mommy!” The four year old exclaimed.

“Hey kid” Janice greeted her daughter with a tired smile. “How was your day?”

“That man came back again,” Abby informed. “He knocked on the door really loud this time”

“Did he come in?” Janice inquired. Abby shook her head ‘no’ in response. “Good” Janice sighed and laid there for a moment in thought. “Here I got you some food” she sat up and turned to face her daughter.

She pulled out a burger and small fry from the dollar menu of McDonalds. Abby smiled and began eating hungrily however she stopped when she saw her mother wasn’t eating. “What about you?”

Janice smiled at her daughter. “It’s alright Abbs” she reassured “I ate before I got here”

Abby wasn’t as convinced “here” she extended her mother a couple of her fries.

“No Abby, they're yours” Janice objected.

“I want you to have some” the four year old replied stubbornly.

Janice sighed and took the fries, kissing her daughter on the forehead “You’re a stubborn kid, you know that?”

Abby giggled at that and continued to eat her small dinner. The girl had just finished and Janice was brushing her hair in the bathroom when the door slammed open.

Abby jumped and rolled off the bed. Janice hurried out of the bathroom terrified. “That is it! You haven’t made your payments in a month! You are out of here!” The manager yelled.

Janice begged and pleaded Abby just stood there and watched. Before she realized what happened she was standing outside with her backpack. Her mother was carrying a duffel.

“Alright come on” Janice sighed as she took Abby’s hand and led her over to the car “we’re just going to have to find somewhere else.”

Finding somewhere else took less time than Abby expected. It had started to rain and it was getting cold. Janice pulled over and parked the car. She took Abby’s hand and locked their stuff in the vehicle leading her daughter quickly down the street and into a building.

They were walking in among a small amount of people but there were more inside. Most had an odd assortment of clothes and layers. A lot looked old and a good portion were missing teeth.

Janice talked to some people who were better dressed and didn’t smell as funky. Abby just clung to her mother’s leg and observed everything. Eventually they made it over to a small cot.

Janice laid down and took off her jacket. Abby laid down next to her and Janice tucked her in. Abbs snuggled up close to her mother who began to sing softly to her. Until she finally fell asleep.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

“Best peanut butter sandwich has bananas on it” I decreed as me and Gramps walked through the door of the house.

“Now that is normal,” Alan sighed.

“Yeah so is popcorn” I pointed out.

“Not-”

“Hey” Charlie cut Alan off with his greeting as he came walking into the room “where’ve you been?”

“Uh bowling” Alan replied sarcastically giving me a look.

“Really?” Charlie questioned with mild surprise.

“No, of course not.” Gramps objected with a chuckle “we were downtown at the shelter” Alan picked up the mail to go through it as Charlie’s face fell slightly. I meandered over to the living room to take a seat.

“Dad..” Charlie started.

“Well, no one else seems worried about being there,” Alan explained.

“Plus it was a good day” I commented looking over the back of the chair.

“That’s because they didn’t know,” Charlie voiced.

“Didn’t know what you wouldn’t tell me?” Alan pointed out to his son.

“He’s got you there” I decreed and my uncle gave me an exasperated look “what? You didn’t honestly think I’d take your side. Secrets suck”

“Look,” Gramps continued drawing back Charlie’s disappointed stare “if everybody can be down there, why can’t me and Abby? I got this fuzzy feeling you and your brother have been going downtown too. Huh, am I right?”

“Okay.” Charlie conceded following his father around the house. “But we were- we were worried about you two” the young man tried to explain. “Do you understand?”

“Look, Charlie, your brother puts himself on the line every day on that job of his.” Gramps spoke as they came toward where I was sitting “don’t you think I’m worried about him? Huh? But I know how vital that job is to him.” Alan sat down in the seat across from me. Continuing to talk to his son “you’ve been helping him out quite a bit lately haven’t you?”

Charlie nodded with a strained smile. “You know I could help too if he’d let me,” I muttered.

“We’ve talked about this Abby” Gramps told me with a look before turning to his son again “you know what I’m really proud of? I’m proud that I’ve raised two sons. Well, we’ve raised two sons who have a great sense of public service. And a granddaughter who’s joined us with, however misguided, a want to serve as well.” Charlie and I both smiled at the sentiment before Grandpa descended into a fit of coughs.

“You okay?” Charlie asked worry drenching his voice.

“Huh? Yeah sure it’s just a cough” Alan waved it away putting on his glasses to read.

“Be careful it’s, uh.. It’s flu season” Charlie advised.

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about me. I never get the flu” Gramps objected.

“I’ve never gotten it either” I voiced thinking back “had strep once that sucked, never the flu” Alan hummed in acknowledgement as Charlie shifted uncomfortably. “You good Uncle C?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah” Charlie nodded, straightening slightly “I just got, uh, some, uh work to get back to” he murmured before leaving the room.

“He’s acting weirder than normal” I voiced.

“Ah it’ll blow over” Alan assured.

“I bet Don’s going to be pissed that I went to the shelter today,” I advised.

“Don’t worry about it” Alan told me “go get a book. I’ll take the heat on this one”

“Thanks gramps” I smiled at him slightly before rising from my seat and heading upstairs.

_________

3rd POV.

“Hey you good?” Terry asked, tapping her partner on the shoulder as he sat staring at the board.

“Yeah” Don muttered “just worried Abby and my dad went and volunteered downtown at some shelter and you know I just keep thinking..” he sighed “that first victim was a sixteen year old kid.”

“And now you have your own sixteen year old kid” Terry finished the man’s obvious thought. Don nodded “did you tell her not to go”

“Best I could with the reason being classified” the man explained “she just got mad I wasn’t giving her a reason, threw the fact that I work all the time in my face and stormed off”

“Well she is still a teenager. They’re like that sometimes” Terry explained with some levity in her features

“This was different though” Don explained “I mean I can gather enough to realize Abby hasn’t had a lot of great authority figures in her past I mean she didn’t even think we’d be worried when she disappeared on her birthday. Still..” Don trailed biting his lip slightly.

“You’re trying Don” Terry reassured “you’re still figuring out how to be a dad and she’s still figuring out how to be a daughter. It’s not something that’s just going to click overnight even father’s who raised their daughters have issues. But if anyone’s stubborn enough and strong enough to get through these issues it’s you and her.”

“Yeah” Don sighed “I’m just not used to feeling like this. I mean every moment of peace I have there’s this buzzing in the back of my head now of whether Abby’s alright or not. Been trying to keep myself from texting her or calling her, not that she’s in a great mood with me enough to answer”

“That’s okay Don” Terry advised him “well maybe not text and call her every five minutes but it’s okay to be worried. She’s your daughter your natural instincts are to protect her”

“Maybe” Don muttered “but how do I protect her from something I can’t even fight”

Terry gave him a sad look but held no answers when David suddenly popped his head into the room “they pulled some footage from the bus terminal that we’ve got to see” he told them urgently and the pair quickly got up to follow him. Don pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind.

_________

Abby POV.

“So how are you two guys doing?” Gramps asked as Don came out onto the back patio where we were eating. “Well, you seem so much more relaxed than the last couple of days”

“Probably closed the stupid case they couldn’t talk about” I muttered taking a bit of my chili. I could see Don giving me a look out of the corner of my eye.

“Yeah, I’d say, uh, we’re doing pretty okay now.” my father sighed sitting down next to his brother. “And we did finish our project” he gave me a nod. He paused, eyeing the beer in his hand “think I might get my first good night’s sleep in about a week.”

“I’m glad it’s over” Charlie sighed.

“You know, I thought I’d let you know that I’m gonna be working down at the shelter next week” Alan explained and turned to me “and if you would like to join me again you can. Though this time you might want to write it down so you’ll remember”

“Very funny” I muttered “and yes I’d like to.” I paused “if that’s okay with you Don” I felt weird asking permission but I knew it was a good idea.

“Yeah, I think it’s okay now.” Don agreed. Seeming just as hesitant to give a reply to the question.

Alan looked between us and sighed “you know one of the hardest parts about being a parent?” he looked between us all “finding balance” he declared. I looked over at Don and gave him a light smile and he returned it. “Well I’ll see you three later. I’m gonna be going with Art Stanley”

“Uh-oh. What are you two up to?” Charlie asked.

“Bowling” Alan declared. Charlie grinned as me and Don began to chuckle. “After the fuss you made, I thought I’d give it a try”

“Don’t throw out your back” I muttered.

“Ha ha very funny” Alan murmured. “And don’t you still have homework in the living room?” I groaned in annoyance “uh-huh come on” Alan gestured for me to follow him into the house.

I let off a breath and rose from my seat bowl in hand. “I hate homework”

“Necessary evil kid” Don advised “now go get it done and then maybe we can do something fun tomorrow”

“Fun?” I asked intrigued.

“Yeah you know the two of us” Don clarified “since I’ve been working a lot lately I thought maybe it’d help with the balance you know?”

I smiled “yeah okay”

“You know what you two should do?” Charlie voiced with a smirk.

“If you say bowling I’m going to deck you” Don muttered, taking a swig of his drink as I headed into the house laughing.

Chapter 4 ->

#numb3rs #numb3rs season 1 #Don Eppes #Charlie Eppes #Alan Eppes #David Sinclair #Terry Lake #episode per chapter #fanfiction #also on ao3 #also on quotev #Abby Calvin

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edxwin-elric · 4 years

Text

Darkest Roads - Ch. 3

Chapter 3: Sinners and Saints

Rating: T

Pairing: Edwin/Edward Elric x Winry Rockbell

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Total Work Count: 15k

Chapter Word Count: 6k

Title: Darkest Roads

Chapter Title: Sinners and Saints

Description: Edwin Street Race AU - Ed takes Winry for a drive in his car and things take a new turn in their relationship.

@fmabigbangs

ffn || ao3 || tag

previous chapter

Edward

When I arrive back at the butcher shop, I notice a mysterious looking car parked in front as I’m carefully moving the bike into the alley. But I can’t worry about that. Weird cars or not, I know Izumi will be out here in two seconds to look for any damage I might’ve done.

Except she isn’t…

I wait for a minute before I frown and head inside, grabbing the notebook and carrier off the back along with the helmet. I drop my stuff by the door and move toward the front, stopping in the small hallway when I hear voices.

“Well, if you see anything or hear anything suspicious, please give us a call.”

I crane my neck a little and see a blonde lady in a blue suit handing Sig a business card.

“Also, are you sure Edward Elric won’t be here today? I have on record that he’s an employee here, and I have a few questions I’d like to ask him.”

Cold runs down my back, and I feel my jaw clench. I know that voice. It’s that bastard detective, Mustang. The one who approached me a few weeks ago about making me a C.I. and having me flip on members of the Devil’s Nest (plus anyone else I see committing crimes on the Lane). I told him to fuck off, so I can only imagine what he wants to talk about now.

“I already told you he’s out on a delivery run. I’m not sure when he’ll be back,” Izumi answers with a firm but pleasant tone.

“Well, I’m going to leave my card, too, if you’ll pass it along to him.”

“I’ll see that he gets it.”

And I’ll see that it gets immediately lost in the bio waste (aka the pig blood).

I continue waiting out of sight until the two detectives are safely outside and in their car.

“You can come out, Ed,” Izumi calls almost immediately, and I step into the main room, behind the counter.

“What did they want?”

“They were just checking around with local businesses to see if we’d seen or heard anything about the Saints of Ishval,” Sig chimes in grimly. “Apparently, their leader, Scar, has been causing trouble.”

“And who can blame them,” Izumi huffs as she begins violently chopping meat on the butcher block. “Local government has been passing mandates left and right that specifically target Ishvalan neighborhoods. It’s ridiculous.”

“They have a right to be upset about that,” Sig agrees calmly, “but it’s no reason to become violent with random citizens or even unprovoked law enforcement. Violence never solves anything.”

“I disagree,” Izumi snaps back bringing the cleaver down again. “Self-defense and survival often call for a bit of violence.”

Sig shakes his head and rubs his hand over her shoulder. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, also,” she calls to me, in a not-subtle way of changing the subject, “the dark haired one asked about you.”

“I heard,” I grimace. “He approached me once before about…something. I bet it was that again. I’m still not interested though.”

“Well, I told him I’d give you this.”

She pulls off her gloves and grabs a business card out of her apron pocket. I take it and shove it in my back pocket, already timing the distance to the trash can to throw it out.

“If you finished those deliveries, you can do some inventory. It’s a pretty slow day,” she changes the subject. “That, or you can help me prep the fresh meat for display.” She nods to the bloody packages on ice behind her.

“I don’t mind doing inventory.”

It’s only for another half hour anyway, and I enjoy the silence back there.

“Only do the beef for now. I don’t want you in the freezer for too long, and that should be enough to get you started. Sig?”

“The stock count is on my desk. You can grab it before you go in. Come out front for a break after fifteen minutes, and I’ll see where you are then.”

“Yes, sir.” I nod and head to the office.

But my mind is still stuck on the Saints of Ishval. I mean, why would the cops think a the leader of a biker gang run out of the Southeast corner of the city would be harassing shop owners in a South-central neighborhood? Unless they’re moving on Devil’s Nest territory. I wonder how my new friend(?) in the Xingese District would feel about that. I mean, the Central underground has its variety of players, but usually they keep to their designated sections of town. The last time a border war—so to speak—broke out was when an Ishvalan child was killed by a cop from Central and all hell broke loose. The Ishvalan community has never really recovered, and the crime rate has only gone up.

“Ed!” Sig’s deep voice makes me jump. “You’d better be working in there! We don’t pay you to sit in a fridge and stare at meat!”

“Right. Yes, sir!” I yell back before reaching for the first shelf of beef and checking it against the list in my hand.

I shouldn’t be worrying about the Saints of Ishval right now. As much as the workings of the Central City underworld concern me, I wish they didn’t, and one day, I hope they don’t. If I want that to happen, I need to focus on my job. Checking the expiration dates on meat may not pay much, but it’s honest money, which is what I need if I’m going to afford groceries later.

Before I meet Winry at City Park.

Shit. I still have to go get her part from Donovan. I’ll have to do that after work but before groceries. I don’t want to be too close to the Lane when the sun sets or Greed will try to pull me into racing.

Swearing under my breath, I reach for another lump of meat and try to ignore the cold setting into the skin surrounding my automail anchors. Fuck, it’s going to be a long half hour.

Winry

I glance at my phone for the time and shift my weight, before shoving the device in my pocket. A chilly breeze makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end, and I rub my arms, looking around again for Edward. He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago, but so far, I haven’t seen him, and he hasn’t texted to say he was late or to reschedule or anything.

I walk around the waterless fountain and start to sit down on a bench when a car alarm goes off a few blocks away. My head whips toward the sound, and my heart freezes in my chest. The shock lasts about a second before I take a deep breath and scold myself for being so jumpy.

I’m paranoid, and I know it. The likelihood of anything happening in this park is really slim, but I can’t stop my mind from spinning wild scenarios now that I’m here. Alone. In the dark. Waiting for a boy I barely know to trade me a sort of illicit auto part in a sketchy exchange. With Paninya’s warning ringing in my ears, it’s impossible for me not to be skittish.

“Oh good. I found you.”

A short scream slips out of my mouth as I leap from my seat on the bench and whirl around.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me!” Ed hisses, holding his leather clad hands out. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me walk up.”

“Holy crap,” I whisper, gasping as I shut my eyes with relief.

“I’m so sorry,” he goes on. “Fuck, I’m sorry for surprising you and for being late, actually.”

“I wasn’t sure you were coming,” I announce a little more coldly than I mean to as I straighten.

“I had to go by and get the part right before I came here. I was waiting on Donovan to finish his final check to make sure it was in perfect condition.”

“You have it?” I perk up at once. “Can I see it?”

He reaches up with one hand and rubs the back of his neck, wincing.

“What?” I frown.

“I’m not really supposed to give it to you until I have the money.”

“Well, I’m not sure I want to give you the money until I’ve looked at the part,” I counter, crossing my arms. “Why should I be the one who has to just believe you and Donovan didn’t rip me off?”

“Yeah…” He glances to the side. “ I guess that’s fair. Here.”

He nods to the bench, and I sit back down as he skirts the edge and takes the spot beside me. Taking the envelope of cash out of my coat, I set it in the space between us. He looks at it for a second, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to count it. I’m surprised when he doesn’t. Instead he pulls the part out of his jacket and holds it out to me.

“I watched him look over it with a high beam light and a magnifying glass,” he says quietly. “If you find something wrong with it, you can keep my thirty thousand cens.”

I raise an eyebrow and proceed to scan the part for any damage. When I can’t find any, I take a second envelope out of my coat and hold it out to Ed.

“What the fuck?” he mutters. “If this is the cash, what’s in that one? Were you bluffing?”

“No.” I shake my head. “This one is yours. The thirty thousand you just mentioned that I owe you.”

“What?” he blinks. “Really?”

“I told you I could pay you back,” I remind him. “What? You didn’t think I was serious.”

“Well, no, I mean, yes,” he sputters. “I just thought it would take you longer or–”

“I’m good with my money,” I explain over the end of his flailing sentence. “And I’m better with automail. I just don’t usually keep too much on hand. I only had what I had the other night because my friend suggested that much, but, obviously, she underestimated the price.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “If I hadn’t been there to cover for you, things could’ve gone pretty bad.”

“Thanks again for that,” I whisper. “Anyway…” I stand and adjust the scarf at my neck. “It’s late, and if we’re done, I should probably be getting home.”

I glance over my shoulder toward the street, and hold back a sigh. I don’t know why I’m disappointed. This was only ever a business deal anyway.

“Wait.”

My head snaps back around, and I freeze as he stands and reaches for my hand.

“Don’t…don’t go yet.”

I look from our joined hands up to his face, my eyes wide with surprise.

“Why not?” I venture carefully. “There’s no reason I should stay…”

“What? Oh, fuck. I mean, yeah, you should probably leave…”

I notice his cheeks look pink in the dim light of the lamp posts, but I don’t say anything, even though he’s cute when he’s making a fool of himself.

“Do you…want me to stay?”

“What?” He flinches and looks up at me, dropping my hand. “I…uh, yeah, but–”

Before he can answer a loud roar of some kind of engine shatters the night. I look around, but can’t see anything even though the noise is getting closer.

“What is that?” I can’t keep the panic out of my voice, especially not after I see the look on Ed’s face.

“Motorcycle,” he mutters. “You need to go.”

“What? You just said–”

“Forget what I said,” he bites out as he grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the entrance to the park. “Go home. Now. Don’t stop and don’t turn back.”

“I don’t understand,” I murmur. “Who is it? What do they want?”

“Nothing good.” He grimaces, and I feel cold slip into the folds of my coat.

“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll, um, text you when I get home.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

I tuck the rare auto part into my coat pocket and start down the block. I make it across the street and halfway up the next block when the roar of the engine overwhelms me. I turn toward it, and suddenly it’s coming right at me. Terror blasts through my veins and I duck my head, covering my ears as if that will somehow help.

It stops in front me me, the headlight blinding as the engines all cuts off. I blink as the headlight goes dark, leaving me shrouded in the light of the streetlamp and staring at a large dark blur dismounting the bike. I squint and make out a patch on the front of a leather cut.

The Saints of Ishval.

“Miss,” a rough voice comes from the dark figure and I take a step back.

“Who are you?”

A tall, muscular man steps out of the shadows, his face twisted with a frown and marred by an X shaped scar.

“I’ll ask the questions,” he rumbles. “What are you doing out so late all by yourself?”

“I…I…”

The auto part in my pocket suddenly feels heavier than before. Should I tell him the truth? Would it matter to him? Ed didn’t say why I should avoid them?

“I was taking a walk,” I stammer. “In the park.”

“This late? In winter?” His frown deepens, if that’s possible. “Alone?”

“Y-yes. I…” I lick my lips and feel my hands start trembling, and not from the cold.

“You what?”

He takes a step closer, and I take two backward, my back hitting the brick wall of a storefront.

“I, um… I’m–”

“She’s with me.”

Edward

The mountain sized man turns to look at me, and I curse myself for being this stupid. But I couldn’t just walk off and hope she made it home, so…I was following her. I would say it’s a good think I was since she’s been cornered by the leader of City’s most notorious biker gang, but I actually don’t know if I can get her out of this.

“And you are?”

“I’m Edward Elric,” I announce, as I move quickly toward Winry. “And that girl you’re scaring the fuck out of is my girlfriend.”

I see her eyes widen at the word, and I jerk my head at her, trying to get her to play along.

“Elric…” The giant turns to face me completely. “Don’t I know that name?”

“I…”

“Oh, yes, one of Greed’s racers,” he finishes before I can say anything. “That means you’re with the Devil’s Nest.”

I open my mouth to deny it when suddenly my arm is being twisted behind my back, and I’m pinned to the ground, my cheek scraping the concrete. Something in my automail snaps, and I squeeze my eyes shut as pain radiates up into my shoulder.

“Let him go!” Winry squeals. “We weren’t doing anything!”

I peek over my shoulder to see Scar glance at her and squint. “Then why were you here? If you’re his girlfriend like he says…”

“I—” I hiss as his knee digs into my back. “I snuck her out!” I lie, saying whatever words pop into my head. “She has a curfew, and I’m not really the type her dad wants to see her out with, so I brought her to the park so we could be alone.”

Winry, as brilliant as I thought, catches on fast.

“I have to get home,” she jumps in at once. “If my dad finds out I’m missing, he’ll call every cop in the city.”

“So, you were doing something then.” Scar snarls.

“Just making out!” I supply instantly, trying not to notice the instant blush that stains her cheeks. “But her dad checks on her at midnight, so–”

“Please, I can’t be gone when he–”

“Okay, fine,” Scar sighs, releasing me. “You can go.”

The knee in my spine moves off, and I scramble to my feet, watching Winry out of the corner of my eye as I stare at Scar.

“Thank you,” Winry murmurs as she inches toward me.

I take a step closer to her when Scar grabs my shoulder and leans down.

“But if I ever catch you or any of the Devil’s Nesters out again at night, all bets are off, Elric.”

“You won’t,” I guarantee him, even though I have no idea if that’s true.

Winry comes up beside me and attaches herself to my arm just as he backs away. I try not to wince at the sharp pain that shoots through my elbow, determined to stay still until he’s gone. We stand there, silently, as he starts his engine and rolls out.

“Thank you,” Winry exhales as soon as we’re alone again. “I…I–”

“Don’t mention it.”

I reach up to touch my hair and groan when my arm locks up.

“Your automail!” she gasps. “It’s damaged. You’re in pain.”

“No shit,” I hiss. “That guy was ridiculously strong.” And way too damn forceful.

“I can fix it,” she says as if I never spoke. “Come home with me. I have what I need there.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I blink.

“Your arm needs a repair,” she says urgently. “My granny should be asleep, so as long as we’re quiet, I can sneak you in and fix you up, and then sneak you back out without her knowing.”

Fuck, she just invited to sneak me into her bedroom—well, wherever she does her automail stuff. Tonight is out of control.

“I…”

“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” she cuts in. “You got hurt helping me, so it’s the least I can do.”

“Fine.” I give in, not that it was too much of a struggle. “Lead the way.”

Winry

“This is where you live?”

I glance at him in the light from the lamp by the door and bite my lip.

“My family is sort of a big deal in automail,” I murmur. “My granny was one of the first engineers.”

Usually, I don’t think our house is anything grand. It’s a relatively modest two story with a small yard for my dog…but I guess it is in one of the nicer neighborhoods downtown.

“Right.” He nods slowly.

“Anyway, follow me, and be quiet.”

I lead him around the side of the house to the trellis. I could probably go in the front door, but there’s always the chance Granny is up late, and I don’t want to have to take him past her bedroom just in case.

“Can you climb with that wrist?”

“Yeah.”

I watch him curl his fingers into a fist and grimace, but he doesn’t change his answer.

“My bedroom is the window on the right.”

“Your bedroom. Cool. Okay,” he mumbles a string of words, and I suddenly realize what this scenario sort of resembles, a flame of heat instantly racing up the side of my neck.

“It’s locked,” I whisper, “so wait here until I get up there to open it.”

He nods, and I go around through the front door. In the case Granny is up, I want her to think I’m just coming home like a good girl and not about to sneak a boy into my room.

A flash of guilt squeezes my heart, and I do my best to ignore it.

I crack the window as soon as I get to it and wave for Ed to come up. I see him start to climb, watching for a few seconds to make sure he really can manage with his injured automail, before I go to my workbench and store the new part I have in my coat.

“I never thought I’d be the guy sneaking in a girl’s bedroom,” he mutters as his feet hit the floor with a loud thud.

“Shh!” I hiss at him, glancing wildly over my shoulder. “If my Granny finds you in here this late, I literally have no idea how she’ll react.”

But I imagine it won’t be good.

“Sorry.”

“Now,” I whisper, slipping off my coat and scarf, “give me your arm.”

He holds it out as I grab my headlamp and slide it on. After a quick glance, I grab some pliers and try to undo the fresh dent, but it won’t budge.

“I need to replace this plate,” I tell him without looking up. “I actually have one that should fit. Give me two seconds.”

Turning my back on him, I shift some other projects around and grab the part I need along with a screwdriver. It takes a minute to detach the damaged plate, but once it’s off I take a look at the inside just to make sure everything looks good.

“How often do you get your automail checked?” I ask softly, shining a penlight on some smaller gears.

“Uh…only when I absolutely have to, honestly.”

“I figured you’d say that.” I shake my head. “You have some rust, but it isn’t terrible. Let me oil it really quick.”

“You’re a real gearhead, aren’t you?” he asks my back as I’m digging through my oils and serums.

“What?”

“You’re so…zoned in on my automail. It’s like how I am when I’m driving.”

“Oh.” I blink. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess so.”

I quickly administer the oil and grab the new plate, which I have to make a few adjustments to for the right fit.

“So…what did you mean about your driving?” I ask him as I punch a fresh hole in the metal, muffling it as much as I can.

“You probably heard Scar say I’m one of Greed’s racers,” he says softly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s not really what I want to do, but…driving is all I’m really good at. Well, that and selling meat.”

“I assume a serious driver has a car?”

“Yeah, my baby. She was having engine trouble, so a friend of mine let me put her up in his garage. She’s on blocks because she also needs fresh tires. This 30k should help me fund the last few parts I need to fix her and get her going again.”

“What kind of car is she?”

“How did you know she’s a she?” He stares at me, and I shrug.

“You’re a guy? I don’t know. It just seemed logical. Did you name her?”

“Nina,” he says softly. “And she’s a red Dodge Challenger.”

“Hold still.” He winces as I set the plate and screw it into place. “How’s it feel?”

I watch him move his arm this way and that, throw some fake punches, and swing it over his head before he looks at me.

“Fucking amazing,” he mutters with undeniable awe. “I think this is the best it’s ever been.”

“If you want me to look at your leg sometime, say the word.”

He gives me a sideways glance, and I feel my face flush.

“I just meant–”

“I know.”

“Anyway, Nina,” I change the subject back to something safe. “I’d like to see her.”

“After I get her fixed up, I can pick you up and show her off. I’d love that.”

“Sounds good to me.” I agree instantly, trying to ignore Paninya’s voice in my head screaming this is a bad idea.

“I’ll text you.”

I start to say something about how he never texted before, but stop myself. It doesn’t matter now anyway, if it ever did.

“Cool.” I nod instead. “Now it’s time to sneak you out of here before my Granny hears us."

“Right.” He walks back over to the window and slides it up before looking over at me. “Have a goodnight, princess.”

“Shut up and go home, Ed,” I laugh at him.

He slides his leg out, and I watch as he disappears. After a few seconds, though, I rush over to look down at him.

“What?” he mouths up at me, and I shake my head.

“Nothing. Just…have a goodnight, too, Edward.”

He grins and drops the rest of the way to the ground, going immediately into a somersault, and then dashing off into the night.

Edward

“Fuck. Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine, and you can do this,” I mutter to myself as I slow to a measly five miles an hour and turn onto the street in front of Winry’s house.

Something like a thousand tiny tiny fingertips run down my spine, and my stomach lurches.

“Shit. Maybe I can’t do this.”

I called her a week ago—called, not texted—when I finally had everything done to get Nina back on the road. I still want to customize her paint job, but Cherry Red looks good on her for the moment. Now, I’m at Winry’s house, waiting to pick her up for what I’m like 90% sure is a date, and I’m not totally sure how that happened.

My phone pings, and I grab it from the cupholder.

Automail Princess: is that you?

I text her back a quick “yeah,” and watch as the front door to the house swings open and she comes running out.

In a dress.

Fuck, I was right. Her legs are amazing.

I groan and throw my head back, banging it against the seat, stopping quickly when she opens the passenger door.

“So where are you and Nina taking me?” She bounces a little in her seat, and I bite my lip to hide my smile.

She’s too adorable.

Which is why this won’t work out.

I shake off the stupid voice in my head and shift gears as she buckles her seatbelt.

“Well, I figured I could drive around the city, and then through the backroads outside of town if you wanted. I can get up to some decent speeds on those since they’re not as heavily policed.”

“Sounds good. Did you have any sort of destination in mind?”

I cough, and reach up to beat my chest with my fist.

“Um…I don’t know, why?”

“Well…” she starts and trails off immediately.

“What?”

“There’s this place,” she says before taking a breath. “I’ve never been there, but I have this friend, and she said… Nevermind, I shouldn’t mention it. It’s dumb, and probably too out of the way–”

“Give me a hint,” I interrupt, secretly loving how flustered she is.

“It’s at the top of this hill. It’s supposed to be the highest point in Amestris, or at least Central City, and–”

I slam on the brakes without meaning to and she squeals before her seatbelt catches her, cutting her off.

“Shit. Fuck. Sorry,” I ramble, speeding up immediately, and forcing my eyes to focus on the road and the windshield and not looking at her.

“You know the place then?” she asks quietly.

“Uh…yeah,” I admit, a muscle in my jaw twitching.

She’s talking about Sniper’s Lookout. It’s an abandoned parking lot outside an old condemned bell tower. I think it used to be part of a church, but the rumor is the best sniper in Central used to use the tower for target practice by shooting birds out of the sky.

But more importantly, Sniper’s Lookout is most notorious for being the premier place for teenagers to go parking.

“Do you, uh, wanna go there?” I glance at her before quickly shifting my eyes back to the road.

“I think so,” she answers after a beat, her voice suddenly softer.

I’m afraid to ask if she means what I think she means, but I’m also afraid not to. I debate with myself in silence as I turn onto the road that leads out of town, directly into the setting sun.

“Ed, are you okay?”

Shit. I’ve been quiet too long.

“Yeah.” I nod. “Just thinking.”

“I freaked you out, didn’t I?” she blurts at once. “If you don’t want to drive all the way up there, we don’t have to. I just thought–”

“No, you didn’t,” I lie to calm her down. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Winry,” I ask suddenly, looking over at her. “Do you know what people—couples, I mean—do at Sniper’s Lookout?”

She blinks, and I watch her cheeks turn a perfect shade of pink.

“Well, I have an idea,” she mumbles. “But, I really just wanted a place we could talk.”

Oh.

“Well, I guess that makes sense.” I nod.

I’m an idiot. Of course she doesn’t want to fool around. We’ve only seen each other twice before now, and never as anything romantic…

She reaches forward and turns on the radio, and we drive in comfortable silence until, the sun completely sets, and I make the turn onto the lane that zigzags back and forth to the top of the tallest hill in the city.

“So…” I turn to her as I cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I really like you,” says suddenly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that, but… Well, my friend, Paninya, she’s the one I mentioned before, I’m replacing her knee joints.”

I blink at her and nod slowly.

“…okay?”

“Her adoptive dad is her automail mechanic, and she still hasn’t told him I’m doing the replacement, which is stressing me out. Oh, and that’s also why I needed the part you hooked me up with.”

“Go on.”

“The real problem though, is… Well, I’m weaponizing her legs.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I blink at her.

“Before the law went through about combat automail, she had these self-defense items, and if you knew her, you’d totally understand why she needs them, but her dad complied with the new rules and removed them because she isn’t twenty-one yet.”

“And you’re going to reinstall them?”

“Yes, and…I can’t tell anyone because, well, it’s illegal.”

“But you’re telling me,” I point out quietly.

“I really needed to tell someone, and I…thought you’d understand, and I’m really hoping you’re trustworthy.”

“I do, and…I am,” I assure her. “It’s a pretty big deal though, isn’t it? Doing that kind of automail work?”

“It’s not simple, for sure,” she admits, leaning forward to slide off her jacket. “But I can manage.”

My eyes get caught on the flashes of skin on her bare shoulders. Middle of winter and she’s wearing a pink top with off-the-shoulder sleeves. I’m not sure why, but that seems to be 100% on brand for her.

“I’m trying to get away from racing,” I confess, though I’m not sure why. Something about her makes me want to bare my soul. “I want to get away from Sinners’ Lane entirely, actually. My brother is about to finish high school, and I really want him to go off to college. One of us should.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I had to take care of him.” I sigh. “Our dad bailed when we were little, and our mom died a few years later… It’s been just us for most of our lives.”

“That’s… I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.” I shrug.

“How did you lose your arm and leg, if I can ask that?”

“Car accident of course.”

“Racing?”

“Actually, no.” I grin. “I ran out in front of a car to save Al and got hit. It wasn’t long after out mom died. By then, we were in foster care, but our foster parents were actually pretty cool. I… They gave me a job at their butcher shop when I aged out, and when I got my own place I took Al with me, but they’re basically family.”

“That’s good.”

I mean, I guess could’ve left Al with them while I went to school, but that didn’t feel right.

“I guess we’re both figuring shit out.” I run my fingers through my bangs.

“Maybe we could…figure it out together?”

I look over at her and raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she murmurs, “but I know I like being with you…”

“I like being with you, too,” I whisper.

Her body angles toward mine, and I stop breathing. She blinks slowly, and I get hung up on how her lashes make her eyes look bluer than normal, which is saying something. A guy could drown in those dark pools…

“Kiss me, Ed.”

I’m not sure if she really said it, or if I imagined it, but the next thing I know, I’m moving my head toward her, and she’s watching my lips as I lower them to hers.

(art by @ayanthos)

She tastes like a daydream.

My automail fingers slide into the hair by her neck, and my other hand grips the steering wheel as she turns slightly, giving me an opening to deepen the kiss. She gasps against my mouth, and I grin.

She pulls back, and I watch as she takes a short breath and reaches up to touch her lips.

“You okay, princess?”

She nods, but her eyes are shining. Fuck. Is she gonna cry?

“I thought you wanted me to,” I whisper quickly. “I–”

Before I can finish, her finger comes up to my lips, shutting me up.

“It was perfect,” she murmurs. “I… No one has ever kissed me before.”

“What?” I stare at her. “Not ever? Really?”

“Yeah.”

She leans back in and kisses my cheek before pulling away and letting out a short sigh.

“I think I should be getting home soon,” she whispers.

“Right.”

My cheek is burning from where her lips touched it, but I ignore that and focus on starting my car and driving her back to the city. When I pull up in front of her house, I realize I don’t want her to go.

“Can I call you again?”

“I’d like that,” she nods. “And, actually, I sort of need another one of those parts you got me before. I’m doing both of Pan’s knees, so…”

“I can talk to Donovan.”

“Great.” She beams as she reaches for her door handle.

“Wait.” I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her back to me.

“What?”

“Don’t…kiss anyone else, okay?”

Her eyes widen and then soften as she bites her lip.

“I won’t if you won’t.”

“Deal.”

She slides out, and I watch as she walks up the steps before turning to wave at me.

“Nina,” I announce as I pull away. “I think you just got me a girlfriend.”

Winry

“Was that the hot guy?”

Paninya is waiting inside as soon as I step in the door.

“His name is still Edward,” I remind her.

“So, it is him?”

“It is who?” Granny steps out of the kitchen.

“My…boyfriend,” I say definitively.

“What!” Pan screeches. “Winry, you can’t be–”

“Is his surname Elric?” Granny interrupts her, and I freeze.

“Um, yeah, actually.”

“I knew his parents.” She nods. “Good people.”

I almost ask about his MIA dad, but don’t get the chance since Paninya grabs my arm and drags me up the stairs.

“Winry, I told you not to go after a boy from the Lane.”

“I didn’t, it just happened,” I tell her honestly. “And…don’t try to talk me out of it.”

She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something and then closes it again instead.

This happens three times.

“Okay, fine,” she finally says in a huff. “But I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t say one thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t fall for him. You can date him all you want. If you want to make out with him in an alley or sneak him into your bedroom, go for it. Fuck him in his car or on the second-hand couch in his shitty apartment. I don’t care, but don’t fall in love with him.”

“Pan–”

“If you fall in love with him, and he breaks your heart…”

Her face says more than any number of words ever could.

“Okay,” I whisper, hoping to easer her mind.

“Promise me.”

“I…” She leans toward me, and I shut my eyes. “I promise.”

“I’m spending the night by the way,” she announces.

“You’re always welcome,” I remind her softly.

She disappears into the bathroom, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Or regret.

I promised her I wouldn’t fall for Edward, but…

I think it’s too late for that.

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malereader-inserts · 5 years

Text

Train Me to Be Better

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Male!Reader Summary: Jaime comes back as a new person, he feels outcasted, but it’s the perfect moment to hind what completes his new self Word Count: 2,341 Request: “ Could you possibly do one involving the reader having a crush on Jaime and being the one Jaime goes to train with after his injury? Whether or not Jaime has any feelings in return is totally up to you.”

Jaime didn’t know why he was with his brother in the first place, perhaps it was the fact that he was a cripple and burden without a right hand. Tyrion knows what’s it’s like to be an outcast, Jaime needed someone he could relate.

“Your new hand, it's nicer than the old one. Wouldn't you agree, Pod?” Tyrion looked at his squire, who timidly looked up from his work to stare at the cripple middle child.

“Is it solid gold?”

“Gilded steel,” Tyrion commented as Jaime cringes, disgusted at the hand, he looks up at Tyrion who happily eats, “You're not eating. Why is no one eating? My wife wastes away and my brother starves himself.“

“I'm not hungry,” Jaime grumbled, lying, he just wanted to sit there and have a meaningful conversation with his brother - not sit down and have a meal.

“You lost a hand, not a stomach. Try the boar. Cersei can't get enough of it since one killed Robert for her.” Tyrion motions as Podrick attempts to serve Jaime, who waves him off. Tyrion looks at his brother before raising his cup, “A toast. To the proud Lannister children. The dwarf, the cripple, and the mother of madness.“

Jamis chuckled at the playfulness of his brother, he moves to raise his own cup, but knocks it over clumsily with his right hand, “Oh!”

“I'll clean it up.” Podrick was quick on his feet but Jaime once again distractedly waves him off.

“No, I'll do it. Leave us.” Podrick leaves quickly, no question needed, while Jaime places his cup right-side up.

“It's only wine,” Tyrion commented as he holds up his own cup and pours it out onto the table. Jaime sits back in resignation, he was comfortable sulking in the chair whilst Tyrion stands and pours more wine.

“I can't fight anymore,” Jaime mumbles, staring at the hand, a part of him has been torn away. Fighting is what he had, to be stripped away from it he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“What about your left?” Tyrion questioned, his eyes not leaving the cup he was pouring the wine to, “I know plenty of knights who are quick to adapt to their other hand.”

Jaime noticed it was an offhanded comment, but to him, it sounded like his brother had offended him greatly. Yet, Jaime had to remember that his little brother had no expertise in swords or war, whilst Jaime fought with a sharp steel Tyrion fought with sharp words.

"I can hold a sword, but all my instincts are wrong. How can I protect the king when I can hardly wipe my own ass?”

Tyrion rose an eyebrow, “You're the Lord Commander now. Command. Let others do the fighting. When was the last time Father used a sword?“

Jamie scoffs, “I'm not Father. I'm the Kingslayer. When people find out I can't slay a pigeon...”

Tyrion shrugs his shoulders, “Train, then. Learn to fight with your other hand.” Tyrion sits back down, leaning back as Jaime looked awfully defeated.

Tyrion couldn’t help but feel sorry for his brother, suddenly feeling worthless to the war and outcasted. He’s felt this all his life and been dreaming for one of his siblings to get a taste of their own medicine. Yet, looking at his brother he can’t help but wish that it didn’t happen to Jaime - rather Cersei, who needs a lesson on conforming.

Tyrion saw a new man in Jaime.

"With whom? You? Men talk. Soon as someone discovers I can't fight, he'll tell everyone.”

Tyrion clasped his hands together and smiles, a plan forming quickly in his mind. He knew who to pick to train Jaime, a very good swordsman and would do it with no charge. However, he risks getting an earful and a slap - maybe his one of his only friend to give him the silent treatment.

“You need a proper, discreet swordsman. As it happens, I know someone.”

Jaime stood looking out to see at the Rocky King's Landing shoreline. He wondered who Tyrion asked to train him, even much to his surprise doing it for free. Most men would bribe for money to keep their mouth shut - eventually, all men would spill secrets.

Jaime turns around when he hears footsteps, there he saw you, carrying some swords as you quickly make your way down the stairs. Your windswept hair in every direction due to the harsh winds.

He rose an eyebrow at you as you sat down by the hill.

“What?”

“(Y/n)?” Jaime muttered, baffled, blinking to make sure he was seeing clearly.

A notable knight, young too. Much younger than Jaime, however, your skills are remarkable. Jaime sure did admire you, you weren’t forced into thinking of joining the Kingsguard just like him. You were the second son of your house. The first son, your brother to marry whilst you were slightly in the clear of your marriage life you became a knight.

Jaime thinks back to his conversation with Tyrion the day before, you were the very few knights who were quick to adapt to their weaker hand for fighting. You had an upper hand advantage, Jaime never understood why some knights do that.

“Is this place safe?” Jaime asked, finally getting over you being here with you.

You looked up at the Lannister, with a raised eyebrow, “I’m here to train you, not to humiliate you, Jaime.”

“I know-”

“Then stop being a paranoid man, men like you would get themselves killed,” You pointed out as Jaime’s stare linger a little longer as you continue to untie the strings.

Soon enough, Jaime gets his sword and spins it in his wrist to warm it. You uncover your supplies and look at the Kingslayer with a scoff, “I've never seen Valyrian steel before. She's a beauty. The problem is, if you fight with an edged blade, I'll have to.“ You stand up holding two sparring swords.

You drop one to the ground, clattering, and continues to walk forward. You swing your sword around, spinning it in your wrist as you crane your neck to each side, releasing tension in that area.

Jaime looked at you as if you grew a third eye before placing his sword down, “I haven't used a sparring sword since I was nine.” Jaime walks to the sparring sword, indignant. He reaches for it, but you slap his hand with his sword, just as he grabs it.

“Ah! Bold warrior you are, attacking a man when his guard's down.”

You smirked, adjusting your grip on your sword, shrugging your shoulders, “Best time to attack a man.”

Jaime didn’t realise he let out a ghost of a laughter as you swung at Jaime, who quickly picks up the sword quickly but parries clumsily. You pushed him with your shoulder as Jaime falters to the wall.

“Mind yourself!”

“If I still had my right hand...”

“Plan on growing it back?”

Jaime sends you a dirty look as you stupidly grin at him. Before Jaime came in swinging, but you were quick to defend and took the lead of the fight. Jaime parries defensively, but well enough in your humble opinion.

He wasn’t called a Kingslayer for nothing, he wasn’t a knight for his shit technique. You admired him a lot more than you care to admit. But, Jaime is shit with his left hand, you could see the determination in his eyes as you cheekily get him off balance as you cause him to stumble from a forearm nudge.

Jaime pants and resets himself, he gazed up at your eyes, your eyebrow raised with your piercing eyes sharply challenging him, “Come on, then.”

He lunges at you, quick to sidestep.

“You’re very predictable, Ser,” You commented, whipping your sword as Jaime drops the sparring sword when the blunt side when clashing with his left hand, “and weak.”

“I thought we are here to train, not to humiliate me.”

“We are, Jaime, but I’m not a pity party for your sword hand,” You stood your ground as you waved your sword down to his sparring sword, motioning him to pick it up, “Do you want to be the kingslayer or be the pathetic Lannister who has to marry and be the arse of the King’s jokes?”

Jaime straighten his back, he has known you for a while and he had never heard you so assertive before, in fact, he liked it. It was weird to think that, it wasn’t explicitly bad to be with another man, but with Cersei still in the picture - he fears any romantic advances to any person he shows a mild interest she’ll have them executed.

“Well?”

Jaime blinks, he liked you a lot. It was just now, no armour but clad in leather with a willing trainer, giving his time of day to train him.

“If I reach for this sword, you promise not to hit me again?”

“No,” You bluntly spoke.

“Figured much,” Jaime muttered as he bends down to pick up the sword, blocking your attack with his shoulder and swung his sword at you.

The clang of metal surprised you. Jaime looks at you brilliant eyes.

“Alright then...”

“How’s training with my brother been?”

You enter his office with a glare, “Fine.”

“You don’t seem fine, does he, Bronn?” Tyrion questions as Bronn grin, “What? Has my brother not been a good student?”

“You have a lot of nerve, don’t you Lannister?” You sneered.

Bronn chuckled, patting you on the shoulder, moving you sit down on the seat in front of Tyrion’s desk as Bronn perched himself on the left of Tyrion’s table, staring at you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I thought you’d like to train with my brother, consider it as a present for your loyalty,” Tyrion commented as you rose an eyebrow, cross your arms over your chest and shrinking down in the seat you were sitting.

“If I recall correctly, you were the one drunkenly confessing you-” Bronn smugly teased you as you shut him up with a glare.

“I was hoping you drunkenly forget that whole ordeal,” You admitted, running your hand through the hair of yours, “Still I was working on moving on, then you fucking make me train him.”

“Could’ve said no,” Bronn pointed out as Tyrion nodded behind him, “I would have done it for a fee.”

“You’re all gold and talk, Bronn.”

“Gotta get my pay somewhere.”

Tyrion sighed loudly, looking between his two friends. His eyes settling down for your sulking eyes.

“Shows you’re not really over your smitten state of my brother-” Tyrion concluded as you groan, “I saw a new person in Jaime, I trust he sees something in you as we do.”

“Please, Tyrion, it’s your brother. He could get any person in here, marry a fancy girl or something,” You waved your hand about as you sat up, “not me.”

“You have little faith.”

“You’re a good looking lad, (Y/n), the girls at the brothel giggle when they see you walk pass - often wonder how the likes of you get them girls to like you.” Bronn shrugs, muttering how you and Pod being the underdogs.

“I haven’t visited the brothels for a while, Bronn,” You drone, “Who send I go there for the girls anyway?”

“Maybe that’s what you need, relax your fucking self. Release some stress in some good old fucking.”

“He’s got a point, (Y/n), go take a break. I’m sure, you’re needed afterwards.”

You huffed as you exited the office and shuffle your way down to release tension, unknowingly that Jaime had been planning to visit his brother to talk about you. Hearing every word of the conversation he was quick to hide away and felt jealously rage inside him when you exit to the brothels.

Not realising, you weren’t even heading in the right direction.

“This is the fifth lesson, Jaime, quick learner?”

“Just here to impress the teacher, ser.”

You look at him, as Jaime at down at the wall. Drinking on his water before offering you some. You waved him off, declining it.

“I heard something about you, (Y/n),” Jaime started, his mind had been playing this moment in time for hours, “Nothing too bad, I would say.”

You looked at him sharply, a hint of confusion but a hint of desire not to be outed to him, “Oh, well, what is it?”

“I heard something in my brother’s office, later before,” Your eyes widen, “I’m flattered really.”

“Fuck off.” You defensively spoke, allowing the sparring sword crash to the floor so you can cross your arms over your chest.

“Will you be quiet for a moment?” Jaime hissed, “I’m trying to say that emotions have got me thinking of you.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“I don’t mock like my brother does,” Jaime was quick to reply, “I am willing to try us.”

“What have you done to the Kingslayer I know of?”

Jaime’s shoulder deflated as he looks out to sea before looking at you, “I’ve been confused all my life, on the idea of love, but seeing you again after a whole journey it’s refreshing. I admire you a lot, (y/n).”

“And I with you.”

“Then-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Jaime Lannister. What you say to me as of now, is the truth and no lies.”

“Aye, yes, why would I lie to you?” Jaime looked at you confused, “I would never ridicule you, (Y/n).”

“It’s hard to believe when all Lannisters are known to be merciless.”

“Then give me a chance to prove to that I am not like my family, who are heartless-”

“Manipulation is not a good look on you, Ser Jaime, keep at it and I might not be able to keep you.”

Jaime looked at you blankly before the words had processed in his head, his eyes light up and his smile widen. You chuckled at him, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t let you down.”

#jaime lannister #jaime lannister x male reader #jaime lannister imagine #game of thrones #got #game of thrones imagine #game of throne x male reader #x male reader

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coldphoenix · 4 years

Text

Confession (OC x Ayuk)

A/N:- So this is a translation of this cute comic done by my friend @friskyhellspawn, featuring their OC SkekSig and Ayuk. Enjoy!

It was the embarrassment. It was the awkwardness. It was the fear of rejection, of humiliation… all those awful feelings he cast upon others, always too cautious to catch them himself. Until he did. For some reason… he did. And now here he was. A bubble about to burst. A silent scream, that could remain sealed away no longer. A confession that had to be heard, before it drove him truly insane. He felt his cheeks burning; he felt his heart racing. He wasn’t ready, but it had to be now. He couldn’t contain it any longer. Nor could he contain his embarrassment, or his blush… so he might as well say it, his treacherous heart was making it obvious enough. “Hey.” Sig started by not looking into his love’s eyes. He couldn’t. It was already too real. But he needed contact. He needed physical support, from someone. So he relied on himself. As he was used to. He clasped his own hands, squeezing them into each other as if it would make this any easier. How had he gotten himself into this? He was better than this. He was above this. But… even he wasn’t foolish enough to deny the fact that he didn’t want to leave. As scary as it was. He began to let the truth go. “I – I uh…” He uttered timidly; it wasn’t like him. He knew it wasn’t like him. But none of this was like him. His lover had changed that. Changed him. Into something that was emotional, and frightened… and about to explode. “Have something to say…” He spoke with a slight confidence in his voice, very nearly soothed by the fact that this was his confession. His time to talk, and somebody else’s time to listen. Just how he liked it. “Well… I… ahem,” his cheeks burned more with every word he spoke. His gaze remained on the floor, on anything except his love. It wasn’t like him. Not like the old him. He had been changed. “You know – well, probably guessed that I… uh, have trouble admitting things…” He paused for a moment, to adjust his words. “Certain things.” Certain things. Just certain things. There were plenty of things he did admit, after all. “And I can be a bit cold…” Just the way he was supposed to be. Just the way he liked to be. Just the way he used to be… “Are we finally going to admit you’re into pi –” “No!” Sig screamed, immediately cutting his grinning, sniggering lover off. Ayuk’s eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden outburst. He watched his lover shake slightly, and the blush returned as he regained his composure, and sank back into the new him. The him that did more than just yell, and smirk and control. The him that did anything but control… “No… no. uh…”

Sig still didn’t make eye contact. He couldn’t. His heart was racing; his fear was growing. What if the feelings weren’t returned? Or what if they were? What was worse? Being rejected or being defeated? Either way it wasn’t what he had planned. It wasn’t how it was supposed to go. But… here he was. With his lover, and his heart. And he didn’t want to let either of them go. “I mean… I… uh… haven’t exactly been… been… honest…” He exhaled, his foot tapping nervously against the floor. “O-Oh, by the stars…” He mumbled to himself, as if it would help. As if it wasn’t already too late. How did people do this…? Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump his heart pounded in his ears, and he knew it was dying to scream. It was so desperate for him to say it. For him to validate it; for him to swallow his pride and admit it. As if he had any other choice. He’d already begun. “Can’t turn back now…” He thought to himself, as if he needed to be told. He was growing more nervous by the second. More shaky, more frightened. But… Ayuk took his hand, and in doing so he pulled Sig’s gaze towards him. Into his eyes, and upon his own blushing face, and his smiling lips. He looked… like love. And Sig felt his own mouth twist into a smile. “Fuck… he knows.” His heart raced, and his cheeks burned, and he realised all at once how foolish his fear had been. And how foolish he had been, to think this would be news. “Of course… he knows.” Of course. He knew every time Sig’s heart skipped. Every time he blushed in secret, every time he thought things he hadn’t thought before. Of course… Ayuk knew. “Ah… uh…” Sig swallowed, and then he grinned foolishly. Sheepishly. Like he never should. What had this guy done to him…? “Heh.” He grabbed at his own clothing, in an attempt to stop the shaking underneath, although it came through in his voice just as clear. “Well u-uh… we… we share a lot of time together s-so… uh… naturally I… have… um… hhh… uh…” He swallowed, and his chest tightened, as did the grip on his clothing, as he tried to explain it away. Explain this… impossible thing. His shaking grew, but he couldn’t stop now. What was the point in stopping now? “D-Developed a-ah…” He struggled. He really struggled to finish his thought, and confess. Why? He’d said enough already; it would be no surprise to Ayuk now. This hesitation, it was just… embarrassing. “Come on, Sig.” He scolded himself, genuinely angered by his own reluctance to commit. He wasn’t a quitter. He would do this. Because he saw things through to the end. Even if Ayuk had changed him… he hadn’t changed that. “Say it! Just say it!” He barked at himself, silently snarling himself into speech. Just fucking… get it over with! “I – I – I…” Choking… he kept choking. His chest was killing him; it felt like he was about to explode. So why couldn’t he just let it out? “Uhhhhhhh…” He groaned, trying desperately to push out the words before they killed him. He couldn’t. He couldn’t get them out, no matter how hard he tried. It was the whole… scary, humiliating, nasty thing of it. Could he really not see this through…? “I – I – I uh…”

He stopped, suddenly. Or rather… he was stopped. By his lover’s hands on his face, and his lover’s beak against his, and his lover’s voice, filled with all the confidence Sig lacked. “I do believe the word you’re looking for is…” Ayuk purred against him. “I love you.”

Immediately, Sig’s heart started thundering. Pounding against his ribcage so hard it felt like it would shatter. His face was on fire; his breaths were short and fast. He was… annoyed, amongst other things. Why had he hesitated? “He beat me to it?!” Sig thought to himself, enraged that he hadn’t won the race. “How dare he – oh, blast it all… a-ah…” And all at once, his anger subsided. Dissolved, by feelings stronger. Feelings softer, and warmer… generally, just better. Feelings he didn’t’ want to let go. “I can’t be mad. This… feels wondrous. Relieving…” The truth… “For once I don’t have to deny how I feel…”

Arms, around him. A heartbeat that wasn’t his own, in his ears, because their embrace was so tight. Sig stayed there, for he didn’t know how long. If it was forever, that would be fine with him. He nestled into his lover’s chest, so utterly content he barely recognised himself. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. But… he was. For a long time, in Ayuk’s arms. “So… yes… you got me…” Sig spoke softly, after however long the silence had been. He didn’t know. It could have been forever. “I love you.” “The cold mighty artisan does have feelings! Ha!” Ayuk grinned triumphantly. “I knew it!” “Oh shush…” Sig growled, embarrassed. This wasn’t like him… “You know it’s just… ‘cause you’re special…” “Naturally.” Ayuk smirked. “Buut don’t pretend you’re not either, SkekSig.” “Damn you to Thra getting me like this…” Sig growled still, against Ayuk’s chest. Embarrassed, and angry, and humiliated and… happy. He was happy. He couldn’t deny it. Ayuk… made him happy. “I love you too, dear artisan.” Ayuk crooned, oh so flattered and charmed by Sig’s hostility. “Spithead.” Sig snarled, which enchanted Ayuk even more.

#myfics #dark crystal #oc #skeksig #skekayuk #gourmand

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 5 years

Text

Ephemera Chapter Three (Early)

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 7.2k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Hey guys! I decided to say screw it and put links in here. I feel like the chapter functions much more cleanly this way, so hopefully the Tumblr gods take pity on me. Anyway, this chapter is early!! As per a request below the last chapter, I’ve gotten this one finished a few days before Sunday, so it’s goin up. I’ll post Chapter Four on Sunday as scheduled! As always, please feel free to send me a message if you’d like! Comments, questions, critiques, theories, send them my way! I’ll respond to all asks received within a day of receiving them.

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

I removed my heels in the stairwell and began jogging barefoot up the steep flights. However harebrained, my scheme was working well. Panting, I carried my shoes in my right hand and used my left to claw my way up the railing, pulling my aching body up the stairs. As I approached the tenth floor landing, I paused and caught my breath, careful not to heave on my inhales and exhales. I pushed open the heavy door and emerged just outside the gallery, Jungkook’s back receding into the shadows of the hallway.

He wasted no time.

Silently, I maneuvered my way into the gallery, guiding the door shut behind me. I set my shoes and purse on the floor beside the front doors, gritting my teeth as I labored to be as silent as possible. My footfalls were gentle as I tiptoed through the shadows, creeping close to the walls in case he suddenly turned around and barreled back onto the floor. I heard the sound of his shoes squeaking against the wood down the hallway, a brisk pace, and found myself rushing as well to keep up.

I slipped into the hall and found his back still turned to me, turning silently into the break room. I straightened a little and crossed my arms. If I hadn’t found anything useful in there, he sure as hell wouldn’t. I walked quickly into a dark alcove beside the break room door, pressing my ear against the wall to hear him. But he was quiet as a mouse as he searched the room. Predictably, he only spent a few moments inside before deeming it fruitless and stepping back into the hallway. Under cover of the shadows, I watched him rake his hands through his hair and shake his head with a huff.

He turned on his heel and I pressed myself back against the wall, deeply shrouded in darkness, as he passed me. Without a second look, he was inside the backroom. I rolled my eyes. If he thought he’d make any headway back there, he was in for a nasty shock. Not only was the backroom an absolute disaster, it took near pinpoint accuracy to find your way around. I suspected the kid might even get lost in the stacks of canvases if I didn’t keep a close eye on him.

Carefully, I followed behind him, slipping through the door and padding it as I led it back to its frame. Once secured, the door released a tiny groan and I exhaled long and slow, my hands frozen on its metal surface. I squeezed my eyes shut. This was it. This had to be it. That metallic clanging had to have alerted Jungkook to the presence of another person in that dark backroom. I was caught. I was certainly caught.

But seconds ticked on in silence. Then minutes. And after several agonizing moments, I straightened my back and turned around, brows furrowed. I scanned the big room for him and saw nothing. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic falling of his footsteps, echoing dimly around the space. The factory lights flickered overhead and I righted myself, composing my breathing with a silent pat to my chest.

I crept behind him, always separated by at least one row of art supplies: haphazardly stacked canvases, broken easel legs, shelves of paintbrushes that I couldn’t name if you paid me. I could see him through the gaps in the shelves, his eyes scanning the supplies like a predator. There was something in his expression that I didn’t like, and in the brief glimpses I got of his face I could sense a desperate sort of hostility. The nameless look burned into the back of my mind as I followed him, watchful over his every movement.

Eventually, he found his way to the back of the room where Vante left the paintings he wanted displayed. Just like earlier today, I watched the yellow light swing in the draft and catch on something in the corner.

Unlike earlier today, Jungkook saw it too.

I heard his breath catch in his throat and, before I could react, he was jogging toward it. Looking now, I could see that the vague outline I’d noticed before was more than that. It was a door, covertly disguised to match the wall. Beside it, a keypad which Jungkook uncovered from behind a rectangular canvas. My eyes went wide and I glanced around quickly, searching for anything to distract Jungkook with. But as I did, I noticed something new. In the top right corner of the room, hanging from the ceiling and trained right on that camouflaged door, was a camera. Surely, I was in view as well, hiding halfway behind a shelf of gauche paints. I looked right into the lens, stared at it long and hard. I had no doubts. On the other end of that camera could be Vante himself. I steeled my gaze and lowered my head, a nearly invisible nod, before I cleared my throat and stepped out from behind the stacks.

Jungkook nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to face me with beet-red cheeks and eyes as wild as his wind-swept hair. There it was again. That gambling look. Like he had a losing hand and I’d called his bluff. I crossed my arms and smiled, staring him up and down.

“Y/N, I-,” he began, then looked around the room frantically, hands poised awkwardly at his sides.

I cut the tension with a laugh and tilted my head to the side. “Baby,” I drawled, laughing again. “I told you to get my keys, not snoop around my workplace.”

Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed a little and he breathed out a shaky laugh. “Sorry. I just got kinda curious being in her after hours,” he said, fishing around in his front pocket and tossing my keys at me. They arced through the air before clattering to the floor beside my bare feet. He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms. “Where are your shoes?”

I picked up the keys and tilted my leg to expose my swollen ankle. “They were hurting me so I left them by the door,” I said with a sigh, fanning my hair out behind me. “Shall we leave?” I asked with a saccharine smile. “Or are there any more secrets you wanna find?” My eyes slid to the door before him.

He stiffened. “I…I mean, are there more?” he asked, blinking at the door. “Secrets, I mean.”

Quietly, I peeked at the camera, crossing my arms and pleading with whatever higher power was out there that Vante was watching. I sighed and approached Jungkook, placing my hands on his shoulders and wheeling him around towards the aisle. I was careful to guide him away from the camera, praying that he wouldn’t notice it.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said, patting his back before leading the way back out to the floor. With a pang in my stomach, I realized that my note to Vante was gone and my keys remained.

“So he went snooping around?” asked Nara as I sat atop the front counter, my feet swaying. She carefully pried open one of the bunny cages and adjusted the water bottle with a huff. “Kinda suspicious.”

“Kinda?” I asked, shaking my head as I watched my sneakers bump the front of the counter. “It’s all…it’s all adding up to something really unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant is a nice way of putting it,” she said with a snort before turning her attention to the hamster cages, carefully refilling their food. “How can you be so casual about all of this? Isn’t it, like, pretty serious?”

I hummed a little and shrugged. “I mean…didn’t it all seem too good to be true from the start?” I asked, then laughed a little, surprised by how sad it sounded. “Why would a guy like him be interested in me anyway? I think it was only a matter of time anyway.”

Nara turned to me and rested a hand on her hip, brows knit as she scanned me. There was a tangible worry in her body language, and the way she looked at me made me feel like an animal on display. The daylight caught on her skin as it streamed through the pet shop windows, revealing tired bags beneath her eyes.

I sat upright and hopped off the counter, walking toward her with a pout. “Nara, are you sleeping?” I asked.

She scoffed and gave my shoulder a shove. “Your boyfriend might be using you to commit espionage and you’re worried about my sleep?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

I sighed and grabbed the strings of her apron which had come undone at the front. Carefully, I retied it. “You didn’t answer.”

She flitted her hand and shrugged, evading my gaze by pursing her lips and watching the bunnies play. “I might be spread a little thin lately with this class.”

“What class?”

“English lit,” she said with a sigh, stepping away to tend to a cage full of newly vaccinated puppies. She reached down and patted one on the head. “I’m slaving over this essay and my prof won’t give me an extension because of work.”

I furrowed my brow and crossed my arms. “Do you not have any time to finish it? Are you working too many hours?” I asked.

She tossed her head to the side and chuckled. “Y/N, please. I have a mom of my own, I don’t need you on my case too.”

I stiffened, glancing away, and rubbed the back of my head. “I’ll stop nagging.”

She hissed a little and shook her head. “Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have worded it that way,” she said, approaching and scanning my features softly.

I smiled. “It’s fine,” I said with a shrug. “Whatever love I may have missed out on, Dad gave me tenfold.” I laughed, ready to change the subject, when the front door bell dinged and both Nara and I stiffened to greet the customer.

A young guy, maybe mid-twenties, sauntered in. His eyes were sharp, glancing around the pet shop like he might find secrets hidden in the abundant potted plants or the pee pads set up in the corner. His demeanor was rather reserved, lips set in a thin line, dressed in all neutrals with a cap obscuring his face whenever he looked down. He didn’t seem like the type to visit a pet store of his own free will.

But as Nara approached, I realized this wasn’t his first time here. She grinned and stood beside him. “Hello again. It was…Yoongi, right?” she asked with a giggle. The man lifted his head and only met her eyes for a scant second before clearing his throat and glancing toward the tabby cats sitting behind a panel of glass. “What are you looking for today? If I remember correctly, last time you bought a food bowl?” she asked.

The man shook his head, edging away from her. Something about him was suspicious, but I kept my mouth shut and simply watched from afar. “Need food now,” he said curtly, his voice rough and low and distinctive.

Nara spared me a glance and wiggled her eyebrows from across the store. I chuckled as I slowly eased back against the counter, hands pressed behind me. “For that cat you mentioned? What have you been feeding it the past few days?” she asked. “You found it on the street, right?”

The man glanced at her curiously before clearing his throat and nodding. “Um, yeah,” he said, scanning the pets before wandering closer to me where the rows of pet foot were stacked.

We locked eyes for a moment and, after a tense few seconds, I looked away first. “What kind of cat was it again?” asked Nara, walking close behind him with her customer service grin pasted across her face.

He furrowed his brow and glanced at her. “What’s it matter?”

“Well,” she began, still smiling, “different cats need different diets. Some cat breeds require special diets and-,”

Nara began her speech about the importance of a specialized diet and both me and this Yoongi man visibly stopped focusing. The man ran his fingers along the fronts of several bags of cat food before grabbing one and, sliding past me, set it on the counter beside the cash register.

Nara paused her lecture and tilted her head to the side, eyes wide. “Oh! Will this one be okay? Are you sure you don’t want to go with-,”

“This one’s fine,” said the man, finally looking her in the eye. When he did, I realized why he’d been avoiding it this whole time. His pale skin went slightly reddish here and there and, before the blush could spread, he looked back to the food, letting his hat cover his face.

I smiled and stepped away, biting back a laugh. “A-alright then,” said Nara, the same charming dusting of pink on her cheeks as well.

I slouched over my painting, staring abysmally down at it as it stared equally abysmally back at me. Professor Jung patrolled like a shark, staring over our shoulders as we stared at our freshly dried paintings. It wasn’t like the thing was going to change the longer I stewed on it. But each time Professor Jung skulked by I painted myself as the dutiful student, pondering my piece with furrowed brows and quiet, contemplative exhales. Truthfully, it was still the same depressing, grey piece it had been days prior. Only now, there was a horrible dash of yellow glaring up at me. The forms were jumbled, blending into one another. The colors were boring. The technique was tactless to say the least.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “So? What do you guys think now that you’ve has a few days to sleep on your pieces?” asked Professor Jung with a clap of his hands.

I jumped a little and lifted my eyes to meet his at the front of the classroom. “Illuminating,” offered one student with a snicker, to which Professor Jung simply leveled his eyes with the kid and cocked a brow.

“Taking time to rest and think on a piece of art can help you all become better artists. Things tend to come into perspective once we take a step back,” he said, nodding.

I stiffened, eyes wide, and stared at my professor for a long moment. Was that the key after all? “I still think mine looks like an elephant,” mumbled a girl beside me to her friend, to which the friend giggled behind her hand.

Across the room, Taehyung caught my eyes. How long had he been watching me anyway? The two of us locked gazes and neither made a move to smile or wave. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like I’d been caught doing something naughty. I felt my cheeks flush under his intense scrutiny, and even across the room I could feel the intensity of his eyes on me. His brow was set low, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, jaw set staunch and shoulders slumped. Today he didn’t look quite so put together. He looked as if perhaps he hadn’t slept well, and he hadn’t had the time to meticulously craft an interesting ensemble, sitting instead in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans that exposed the muscles of his knees. Like the ones Jungkook liked to wear.

I cleared my throat and glanced away, eyes falling to his painting as it sat on the table. It looked pretty from far away, some delicate landscape of thick trees and a distant cabin, but I couldn’t look for long because as Professor Jung monologued, I noticed something peculiar.

Taehyung’s sweatshirt wasn’t just some Hanes throwaway.

It was Givenchy.

My brows knit as I stared at the logo emblazoned across his chest. He didn’t seem like the type to seek out high-end brands, and being a student I’d naturally assumed he, like me, was broke to the bone. But the longer I looked the more curious it became. Not only was his sweatshirt name brand, but it looked like his shoes were authentic Doc Martens. Even his pants seemed like they were made of high-quality denim.

Before I knew it, class was dismissed and to my surprise, students began gathering their things to leave. Startled, I jumped out of my seat and collected my belongings, struggling to hold my canvas without dropping my backpack or my cold cup of coffee.

I huffed a little with the effort, but I had little time to lament my frustrations because before I could even react, my painting was snatched away from me. “Hey-,” I began, but stopped short when I realized it was Taehyung towering over me, a soft smile on his face that didn’t quite touch his eyes. In his hands were both our paintings. “Taehyung,” I breathed with a grin.

He nudged me gently with the corner of his canvas and jerked his head toward the exit. “Looked like you were struggling.”

I chuckled and ran my fingers through my hair. “You could say that,” I said, sighing.

The two of us set off down the hallway, our arms brushing now and then. “What have you been up to these days?” he asked.

“It hasn’t been that long since we argued about What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim,” I countered with a grin, eyeing him sidelong.

He smiled back at me, but again it was a halfway smile. The kind you give when you’re holding something in. “Long enough for something to have changed,” he said, jerking both our canvases up against his side to avoid accidentally smacking a passerby.

I pursed my lips and thought a moment. Had anything changed? Jungkook was still acting like himself, whoever that really was. After catching him in the act, I figured perhaps I’d have had the courage to confront him about it. But reality was endlessly disappointing. Every time I saw his name light up my phone, I was filled with something cold and restless. Something that demanded to be addressed. But all I could do in the end was read and cherish his every word and respond with a heart.

I was pretty pathetic, wasn’t I?

“Nothing,” I said with a nod, picking at the cuticles on my free hand. I took a sip of coffee, and found it displeasingly chilled. “Nothing’s changed.”

Taehyung glanced down at me and scanned my face. I glanced away down the hallway with a sigh. “You know-,”

“Forget it,” I said, waving my hands. My coffee sloshed coldly against the paper cup and with a sigh I carefully tossed the thing into the closest trash can. I turned to Taehyung with a wide smile. “Let’s do something, hm? I’ve got some things I wanna forget about and you seem like a good distraction.”

His brows lifted and he stared at me with round eyes. “Do something?”

I nodded, snatching my painting from beneath his arm and holding it close. I smiled. “I’ll take you to my happy place,” I said, laughing.

“Hey, Mr. Kim!” I called as I guided Taehyung past a few courtyard benches.

The ground was slightly uneven, and the footpath below us was overgrown with thin plants. Easy to trip on, and I’d know. Past the stone archways, we entered the cafe. Mr. Kim sat with a big smile behind the counter, his head in his hand as we entered. I waved and gently sat my painting beside a stool by the bar, hopping up and sitting down as Taehyung followed suit. I watched Taehyung’s eyes flit over the paper lanterns hanging on strings overhead, touch upon the old brick wall hosting hundreds of polaroids of friends and patrons, the many potted plants, the delicate yellow flowers beside us. The place was warm as ever and cozier than usual. Patrons milled about the large bookcases or sat quietly gazing out at the busy Hongdae street. I shucked off my jacket and slung it over the back of my stool.

Mr. Kim, a weathered man with a big heart, grinned as he began working on my drink, not even sparing a moment to ask what I wanted. “Who’s this?” he asked, eyeing Taehyung over the coffee maker. “Not the boyfriend Nara showed me.”

Taehyung stiffened and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could I laughed and shook my head. “He’s a friend,” I said, resting my cheek in my palm with a smile. “Last time we hung out, we went to that coffee chain on campus.” I stuck out my tongue in mock disgust.

Taehyung’s eyes went wide. “Was the coffee bad?” he asked, real concern in his expression.

I laughed and patted his arm, but retracted my hand as his cheeks went pink. “No, it’s not that,” I said, grinning at Mr. Kim. “Just that this place has the best coffee.”

“What is this place?” asked Taehyung with a wondrous look around.

Mr. Kim slid my coffee in front of me before beginning work on Taehyung’s. “It’s called Nunchi,” I said quietly, watching Mr. Kim as he worked carefully. He’d entered the zone: that perfect space where all his focus was on his task. Nara and I used to take advantage of this zone often as kids. “You know what nunchi is?”

He nodded, entranced by Mr. Kim’s capable movements like I was. “When someone is really good at reading other people’s emotions. Like…being in touch with what other people are feeling without speaking and reacting well to it.”

“At least you know,” teased Mr. Kim with a wink my way. “Miss Y/N is still working on her nunchi.”

I gaped, patting my chest. “Hey! I have excellent nunchi!” I said, wagging my finger at Mr. Kim.

“Your dad has excellent nunchi,” Mr. Kim said with a loud laugh, the one that came from his gut like a shout. “Anyhow, here at the shop we know what you need even when you don’t know it yourself.”

Taehyung jumped a little before glancing at me out the corner of his eye and offering a smile. “So you know each other well?” he asked.

I nodded with a soft chuckle. “Too well,” I joked. “He’s my best friend’s dad.”

“And your dad’s business partner,” said Mr. Kim, raising his brows.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, sighing. “My dad lives out on a ranch. What he harvests, he sends here for their seasonal menus.”

Taehyung stared at me with wide eyes. “I didn’t know you weren’t from Seoul.”

I laughed, patting his shoulder. “How could you? We only just met.”

Taehyung’s expression faltered for half a second before he laughed and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck gently. “You’re right,” he said. Mr. Kim slid him a cup on a white platter and took a step back with crossed arms. “What’s this?” he asked before taking a sip, eyeing Mr. Kim over his glasses. He placed both hands around the coffee cup.

“It’s a latte,” he said, chuckling. “Caramel latte, not too bitter. Outsourced beans so it’s pretty nutty.”

“Nutty?” asked Taehyung, turning to me.

I laughed. “It’s the aroma,” I said, cupping my hands around Taehyung’s and bringing the coffee up to his nose. “Take a whiff.”

His eyes fluttered a little before shutting, brows furrowing as he inhaled through his nostrils. “Mm,” he breathed, nodding once before lowering our hands. I grabbed my own drink and took a sip. “I could smell it.”

I nodded, sighing into my drink. “Of course you could,” I said with a smile at Mr. Kim. “Because our barista is a master.”

Mr. Kim tipped his baseball cap and laughed. “I’ll fix you two a snack,” he said, walking easily into the small adjacent kitchen.

I sipped my drink quietly, watching the coffee swirl around the glass. “So what’s your drink?” asked Taehyung, turning to me with a gentle smile, his chin in his hand.

I slid it to him to sip. “Antoccino,” I said.

He pulled a sour face as he took a drink before politely pushing the saucer back to me. “Bitter,” he said.

I laughed, pensive as I took another drink. “It’s half milk and half espresso. I figured you’d hate it.”

“So that’s why it’s called Nunchi,” he said with a knowing nod. “He knows what we want.”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. I wished I could say the same about myself. Perhaps Mr. Kim was right. Perhaps my nunchi wasn’t quite as good as I thought it was. “Hey, uh…thanks for coming out with me today,” I said, running my fingertip along the rim of my glass.

Taehyung visibly went stiff before coughing a little, passing it off as a laugh. “Um, no. It-it’s fine. Honestly, I’m happy you invited me,” he said.

I peeked up at him and smiled a little. “You seem like a very nice person,” I said, thinking back to that day at the gallery. How suspicious I’d been. Looking at him now, taking quiet little drinks of his latte like a cat, it was hard to believe I’d ever thought he was capable of being underhanded. “I’m sure you have more important things to do,” I said with a nod.

Taehyung jumped slightly and stared at me. “What? No! There’s nothing,” he said.

I chuckled and nodded. “It’s okay,” I said, surprised by the somberness in my voice. “Forget I said anything.”

Taehyung was quiet for a long moment, each of us staring at our coffees without uttering a word. “Are you doing okay?” he asked finally, his voice soft like a whisper.

I swallowed hard and smiled, unable to meet his eyes. “Mhm,” I said. “Sorry. I asked you to come out and forget the bad stuff, and here I am throwing a pity party.” I turned to him with a smile. “I think I’m okay. And…well, if I’m not then I will be soon.”

His eyes were dark and troubled. He kept opening and closing his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Like he couldn’t find the right thing to say, or perhaps there were too many things to say that he couldn’t pick one. He sighed and rubbed his nose bridge before lifting his eyes and offering a barely-there smile.

“There’s always gonna be something to make you sad,” he said with a nod. “That’s life.”

“You’re right,” I said, forcing a smile. I suspected he meant to be comforting, but the words hung in the air like dead weight and settled uneasily on my chest.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not it,” he said, grabbing my arm. I stiffened, turning wide eyes toward Taehyung as he stumbled over his words. “I-I’m not very good at this, but…what I mean is that we can’t control all the bad shit that happens to us, but we can control how we react to it. We don’t always have power over life, but we always have power over ourselves.”

I furrowed my brow and stared at him, puzzled. “But what if it’s something really serious? Something you desperately need to get to the bottom of but can’t?”

He released my arm and turned back to his latte, blinking at it as he took another sip. He peeked at me out the corner of his eyes. “Well then you’ve got a choice to make,” he said carefully, eyes sliding back to his drink. His lashes brushed the apples of his cheeks and, sitting just like that with a quiet thoughtfulness to him, I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed handsomer than usual. “Are you gonna let the fear of the unknown consume you?” he asked, then lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Or are you gonna take back your power?”

My heart raced as our gazes locked. There passed a moment of profound understanding. Like neither of us needed to explain ourselves to know what the other had meant. Like he knew without knowing what I needed to hear. I pressed my lips thin and set my jaw.

Before I could respond, Mr. Kim returned with some cheesecake, two forks, and a big welcoming smile. Taehyung and I both smiled our thanks and wordlessly took a bite.

Jungkook and I sat quietly in his apartment, lounging on his couch as a crime documentary droned on his television. The evening outside was cold and brisk, but inside nestled beneath several layers of blankets, I was toasty warm. Every now and again, Jungkook’s fingers would brush against mine beneath the covers like he was trying to initiate physical touch and, on impulse, I’d jerk away. I only removed my eyes from the screen to check my phone once in a while, sneaking covert glances around the small living room for clues as I did.

I was trying my best, but every second I sat beside him was a second that felt like forgery. Each time his tender eyes would wash over my face, I’d feel a tickle in my stomach that I couldn’t ignore.

If only reclaiming my power was easier.

At around six, relief finally arrived in the form of Kim Seokjin.

“Hello, children. Papa’s home!” he called, slamming the front door open with a big, powerful laugh. He tossed the plastic grocery bags aside on the tiled kitchen counter and throw his arms out wide.

Laughing, I hopped out from beneath the blankets and rushed him like a football player, colliding against his chest with a thud that stole his breath. He sputtered a little as he patted my back, Jungkook chuckling from the couch. I pulled myself away to give the older boy a proper once-over. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen him, but every time he came around he seemed goofier than before. Now he stood above me with a big grin and wiggling eyebrows. There was mischief in his dark irises.

Carefully, I took a step back and crossed my arms, peering at him. “What are you plotting?” I asked, cocking a brow. God, if only it were that easy to interrogate Jungkook.

Seokjin clapped a hand to his chest and gaped, wide-eyed. “I am hurt!” he called, staggering back against the counter with more than a little theatrics. “My roommate’s girlfriend doesn’t even trust me!”

Your roommate’s girlfriend doesn’t trust your roommate either, I thought with a scowl. “What’s in the bag, Jin?” Jungkook asked, suddenly at my side with an arm draped over my shoulders.

I peeked up at him, the skin of my neck warm where his cheek touched it. Seokjin smirked and opened one of the plastic bags, beckoning us to look inside. Underneath the yellow glow of their fluorescent kitchen lights, several six-packs of cheap beer lay atop one another, some half-toppled over on their sides.

I laughed and shook my head. “You two can feel free to get shitfaced on a weekday, but I’ve got class tomorrow morning.”

“It’s a Thursday,” said Seokjin, rolling his eyes. “Barely a weekday.”

“Don’t you two have work or something?” I asked, crossing my arms and bowing out from underneath Jungkook’s embrace.

Jungkook’s back stiffened and he turned to me. “Why do you ask?” he said, something guarded in his eyes, something not quite trusting.

Wait…

Was he suspicious of me now?

I might’ve laughed if it wasn’t so alarming. I furrowed my brow and gestured toward the drinks. “You hate being hungover at work,” I said, recalling what felt like an ancient conversation between the two of us early in our relationship after a night of barbecue and shots.

His expression softened and he puffed out an uneasy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Just…uh, felt like you were scolding me.”

I matched his laugh with one of my own before clearing my throat and grabbing for a can of beer, yanking it from the plastic. It was lukewarm, probably disgusting, and definitely a bad idea. But the evening had yielded no new information, and Jungkook wouldn’t let me out of his sight. No matter how much I scanned the apartment under his watchful eye, I couldn’t find anything that would help me figure out what was going on.

And besides, what if drinking loosened Jungkook up enough to spill something on accident?

I cracked it open and tipped the cool tin can against my lips, guiding the acrid beer down my throat with an unpleasant frown. I hissed as I finished my swig and winced a little. I’d almost forgotten how much I hated beer.

But it had been worth something at least. Because as I gingerly nursed my second sip of beer, Jungkook grabbed for a can of his own. Without thinking, I reached my drink out to touch the rim of his before locking eyes with him. Of course, he was infuriatingly handsome. Dark eyes with an innocently cocked brow, a smirk on his lips revealing perfect teeth, soft hair that bounced a little the two of us took a drink together.

But in that smirk, I knew he held secrets.

And it was time I started revealing them.

“On my life, I would!” called Seokjin from the floor, already plastered from the looks of it and from the volume of his voice.

Jungkook and I sat leaning against one another on the couch, laughing. “You would not pass up a date with Hyolyn just to be on Law of the Jungle!”

“You wouldn’t last!” I exclaimed in tandem.

Seokjin shook his head, eyes shut, stubborn and drunk as a skunk. And from the way Jungkook was leaning against my shoulder, he was pretty far gone himself. “I would do fine,” protested Jin with a nod, eyes still shut.

Jungkook took a moment to wipe beneath his eyes before turning to me with a dopey grin. “Alright, Y/N. Your turn,” he said.

Suddenly, Seokjin’s eyes were open and focused on me. He sat upright and looked at me seriously. “Y/N,” began Jin with a cough. “Would you rather find out who Vante is but lose your job, or never know who he really is but work for the Gallery forever?”

I stiffened, brows furrowed, and crossed my arms. It was a horribly pointed question, and I wasn’t drunk enough to take is innocent. “I’d rather never know,” I said with a decisive nod.

Jungkook went still beside me, but his eyes remained trained on my face. He seemed much soberer now, much more focused. “But doesn’t it make you crazy? Being so close to him but not knowing who he is?” he asked.

I blinked and edged away from Jungkook’s side, watching my lap. “If he’s hiding, there’s a reason,” I said with a nod.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Jungkook, his tone revealing a longtime frustration. As if he was finally scratching the surface of an issue that had bothered him a long time. Out the corner of my eye, I saw him cross his arms.

“What if he’s really creepy?” asked Seokjin, eyeing me carefully from the rug.

I shook my head. “I trust him.”

“You’re naive.” I expected Jin to respond, but the words came from Jungkook who by then was staring into the middle distance as if I’d really upset him.

I scoffed and turned to him. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but something in me was burning. “Vante has been nothing but kind and supportive to me, and he’s been a part of my life longer than you have,” I said with a sigh. I turned back to Seokjin. “Watch what you say,” I said, looking them both in the eye.

Before either of them could speak, my phone began buzzing in my pocket and I jumped. Nara’s name lit up my screen and without a moment’s hesitation, I unlocked it and pressed it to my ear.

“Y/N!” she called, audibly relieved.

I raised my brows. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Ugh, it’s Hyun,” she whined into the receiver.

I sat upright and furrowed my brows. “Your dog?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“Yeah, he-,”

“Hold on,” I said, shaking my head.

I glanced around the room as Nara audibly shuffled on the other end. The air was no good in here, stagnant and awkward after my outburst. Not to mention the way both boys seemed to hang on my every word like they were hungering for more. I needed to get out of there, get some fresh air, clear my head. Restless, I stood to my feet and turned to Jungkook, gesturing with my hands to the front door. He feigned a smile and nodded as I shuffled out into the outdoor hallway, bracing the cold with a shiver.

Something wasn’t sitting right with me. If Seokjin was the one who asked the question about Vante to begin with, did that mean he was in on this too? And what about the alcohol?

Had it all been planned from the start?

“Sorry, I’m at Jungkook’s,” I said with a sigh, gripping the bridge of my nose as a headache began to take hold.

Nara was quiet for a moment. “How…is that going?”

“Not well.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, somber.

I shrugged, but I felt my posture go rigid. I cleared my throat. “It’s fine. Anyway, what about Hyun?”

She groaned. “Well I agreed to do a group workshop for the paper I’ve been talking about, but I realized I forgot to put food in Hyun’s bowl. I don’t know when I’ll be home and I’m at the library right now and I’m just kinda worried about-,”

“Nara,” I interrupted with a laugh. “Breathe.”

She inhaled and exhaled before coughing a little. Was she getting sick? “Sorry. Um…I know it’s shitty, but if you could just swing by my apartment and fill his bowl I’d owe you my life.”

I thought a moment, watching my knees as the buckled slightly in the chill. Vante wasn’t wrong when he chastised me for being a pushover. And with evidence still possibly lingering in Jungkook’s apartment, and a new accomplice to think about, I wasn’t sure I should be so hasty leaving. But the longer I stayed, the worse things became and I hadn’t found anything useful yet. What made me assume I’d find anything now?

And besides, it was Nara.

I sighed. “Yeah, uh I can be there in fifteen,” I said, glancing out into the blistery night.

“Ugh, you’re a life saver! Seriously,” she said, her voice going distant on the phone.

“Don’t mention it,” I said with a smile.

“Love you!”

“Love you too,” I said as the line disconnected.

I rubbed my arms and slid my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. My face was hot from drinking and my body felt exhausted after a week of work and classes. I wanted to find someplace to collapse and take a nap, but something told me that I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

I stretched my torso a little before walking back inside the apartment. But, to my surprise, there was no bickering between Jungkook and Jin, no witty banter, no pillows being thrown across coffee tables. Instead, there was just the steady drone of the TV and the absence of both boys. I scanned the kitchen, then the living room. Nothing.

Perhaps this was my opportunity…

“Newcomer Ori Technologies is hosting a charity banquet next month to celebrate their first year in operation, and it’s rumored many big names will be in attendance. To name a few-,” said the newscaster on the television as I quickly shut it off. Odd, I was certain we were watching MNet when I left the apartment.

Carefully, I crept around the room in search of something, anything, that might give me answers. But everything was as normal as it had always been: monochromatic paintings on the walls, potted plants sitting half-dead in the corners, pillows sitting slumped against the backs of the couches. There was nothing new to be seen here.

But in the silence, I could hear the dull, muffled back-and-forth of conversation. As silently as I could, I poked my head down the hallway and strained to listen. I could only make out faint words like Gallery and trying, but most of what was said was entirely unintelligible to me. I suspected Jungkook and Seokjin had stolen away down the hall to hide in the computer room. Jungkook took great pains to make that room soundproof so he could play games in peace, so their discussion had to be pretty loud if I could hear it.

An idea came to me that had my nerves jittering. Beside the computer room was a room I seldom entered. I’d only been in once, and it was under Jungkook’s supervision the first time I’d visited the apartment.

Seokjin’s room.

If he was indeed involved in this whole mystery, perhaps it was time to change my focus. Silently, I approached the door and slipped inside the chilly, pitch-black bedroom. I steeled myself with a deep breath, my forehead pressed against the door separating me from being caught. Who knew what would happen if they found me snooping around? Who knew if I had any reason to suspect Seokjin? I was certain that if they found me, I’d be cooked one way or another.

And if Jungkook disappeared, then I’d never know the truth.

Somehow, that unsettled me more than anything.

I nodded and summoned my courage to flick on the light. Suddenly, the darkness gave way to light grey wallpaper and collages of photos on bulletin boards. The room was sleek and clean, and the walls were decorated with sentimental pictures of Seokjin and people I didn’t recognize. A few photos featured Jungkook, but again they were surrounded by unknown faces. I scanned them for a moment before dropping my eyes to Seokjin’s work desk.

Atop the white lacquered wood was an expensive computer and not much else. I sucked in my breath and leaned down before it, running my fingers along the drawer. I couldn’t afford to waste much time, my ears hypersensitive to any noises coming from the hallway. I pried open the drawer and stared into it with wide, eager eyes.

Sitting at the bottom were several notebooks and one manila folder. The conversation from outside seemed to be quieting down, and my nerves were on fire. Without thinking, I yanked the manila folder out from inside and opened it on the floor beside Seokjin’s desk chair.

My heart skipped a beat.

Inside the folder were dozens of legal documents. I shook my head and fingered through them. They all seemed to be public records, transactions, contracts, things relating to business. Perplexed, I flipped to the final page in the thick pile.

And there it was.

Vante’s elegant, distinctive signature at the bottom of a document I didn’t recognize. And, right beside it, a name I could only vaguely place.

Kim Namjoon.

139 notes · View notes

fortheheavenssake · 5 years

Text

PG MM Anon Interpretation Collection- 11

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

71: Sept. 30

MM Anon

MM ANON …… PR gestapo returns … the converted are turning …… never a Dull atonement …… “So quick bright things come to confusion”… 🎼 “A spoonful of sugar”🎼 …… a hostage to her fortune … the grey accountants …… “ death and taxes “…… a Scottish invitation accepted …… “Back home old thing, shame!!!”…… old habits…… new evidence has leaked…… a basket full of eggs.

PR gestapo returns

The PR team returns to London to continue their ‘dark arts’ of deception on madams behalf. They are preaching to the wrong crowd. There is no amount of PR that could change things. It’s far too late, even if she got on her knees(go away filthy ideas), in Trafalgar Square and pleaded forgiveness, there would be none, ITS TOO LATE! Leave her to Heaven, by the way that’s a fantastic film and fits perfectly about narcissism. Jeanne Craine and the gorgeous Gene Tierney who plays the narc so amazingly well! I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS FILM!!! Or is this JS hired by PA to do his PR? Likely not because it says returns!

the converted are turning

Many people who were chuffed and liked madam are seeing abs turnings their opinions as they are realizing who and what she really is. That’s the baffling thing about HRC and MO chiming in supporting her. They have no business doing that or do they? Backers??

never a Dull atonement

Atonement,is a reparation for a wrong or injury, (in religious contexts) reparation or expiation for sin. The statement is never a dull moment but MM ANON has changed it and capitalized Dull. We know she has done fake conversion to several religions through first two marriages, now baptized allegedly into the COE prior to marriage . Atonement has never been on her radar. So what of it, is she going to go whiz bang to Balmoral fall on her sword and beg mercy from the Crown? Is that what this means? I highly doubt it. I am struggling with the capital D in Dull, is the opposite of Dull meant? She will never atone, but she’s never dull either, dim yes but dull no.

“So quick bright things come to confusion”

This is why l love the riddles, teachable moments and MM ANON never fails to deliver. Alas we return to our beloved Shakespeare, this theme A Midsummer Nights Dream . Their relationship, to call it that, began at Soho as a hookup, and progressed to now. It was never ever love for either! However, the public, who so badly want Harry happy believed the story, most of them. As time went on certain people like our 💜🐼💜, and others began to ask questions because they saw cracks and inconsistencies. Fast forward to today, madam is hated, loathed, despised in the U.K. and many other places in the Commonwealth and beyond! I have no idea how she can ever do an appearance in public after the final slap of hiding amw and then showing off live baby in SA, final massive F*** YOU to HMTQ, the U.K. and the Commonwealth! The bloom is off the rose big time, just thorns left. Thank you MM ANON for using Shakespeare, l am wondering how many more riddles there will be, l am sensing a real tipping point.

🎼 “A spoonful of sugar”🎼

Julie Andrews at her finest in Mary Poppins, such a shame a surgeon botched surgery and she can no longer sing, makes me angry actually the world deprived of her voice, speaking selfishly. I saw her interviewed, she was so classy talking about how that changed her life. But l digress, the line is a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, in the most delightful way, l can hear her singing it as I type and sing along! So here’s the rub of it, what is the medicine that needs sweetening, is it actually medicine for madam, that’s way too obvious for MM ANON. I think there is something on offer that madam will tolerate return to,London and trip to Balmoral , what is that? It’s the availability of hobby items, that’s the one thing she needs! Like physically neeeds!

a hostage to her fortune

Ha ha this is funny! Having a fortune, speaking money here, and being hostage or tethered to it. Most of it is ill gotten gains allegedly, of course l know nothing, one would owe home country amazing amount of taxes and if unlawfully obtained money, it’s Literally your fortune as in future. If ill gotten gains, the lawmen come a calling. So the use of the word fortune was very clever as usual MM ANON! Fortune as in financials and fortune as in tell my fortune, the future things to come!

the grey accountants

The brilliant men in grey, behind the scenes doing HMTQ work. Intel, surveillance, interviews, AND keeping track of every single coin$$$££££€€€ earned. I can only imagine the total by now. Given the reception President DT received and the intel that he brought, l am certain the US/IRS is working in tandem with the loyal men in grey forever unknown but giving their all to serve the Crown and HMTQ! God bless them!

“ death and taxes “

Two old phrases l love, the only things certain in life are death and taxes. The other one is, you can’t fight city hall. So, if l read this correctly madam has a massive tax bill due from the American tax man. Can you hear his adding machine(those of you of my vintage will know exactwhat l mean🤣🤣) can you hear it Rachel? Can you hear the footsteps of the taxman comets? Can you Rachel? It’s like Poe’s Telltale Heart. Have you even heard of Poe or the story Rachel? Likely not, but the taxman wants his due!!

a Scottish invitation accepted

So, at long last, they will deign to attend HMTQ and give Her the honour of their company at beloved Balmoral, her safe place. . Isn’t that grand and kind of them? I am sure HMTQ is squealing with delight at this visit, NOT!

“Back home old thing, shame!!!”

LG to HMTQ, upon the return of the Sussexes or, since its October, this is the month her respite/vacation to Balmoral ends and she returns to the hectic pace of London life. Although, between BOJO, PA and The Sussexes, l can’t imagine this has been much of a respite.

old habits

Oh old habits die hard! Old hobbies do as well, sniff sniff, snort, snort, swallow, swallow, yes return to London will bring ample time and availability of hobbies and hobby time. I said London, because we ALL know, no one is living at Frogmore except Kermit 🐸. Keep at it, the nose will completely collapse, no amount of plastic surgery can ever truly repair it.

new evidence has leaked…

Is this regarding BOJO ? And his continuing issues of women? I am not aware of any other leaks, but l haven’t read the blog or papers yet. I am still 💤💤💤💤😴😴😴 resting a lot .

a basket full of eggs.

My, my, my, my a basket of eggs is so fragile isn’t it? One wrong move and they crack. The older the eggs are, they are more fragile and they can go off. Now we are definitely not talking chicken 🐓 🥚 eggs here. A woman of her age , those eggs, harvested, must be very near or past their sell by date. When the extraction was done, viable leftovers would have been cryofrozen. Have the 🥚 eggs in the 🧺, cracked, not viable, not healthy? Oh God please intervene make it thus, so no more innocents are created to be used and abused.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! I get lost in your words….like a great turn pager….I want more…more …….more! Thank you, sounding good! I love taxmen talk! 🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜

💜💜addition:

PR Gestapo returns

The SS was the Nazi feared from wiki

The Schutzstaffel (SS; also stylized as Sig runes thin.png with Armanen runes; German pronunciation: [ˈʃʊtsˌʃtafl̩] (About this soundlisten); literally “Protection Squadron”) was a major paramilitary organization under Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party (NSDAP) in Nazi Germany, and later throughout German-occupied Europe during World War II

SS IS SUNSHINE SACHS!! These things stock in my head and bug me, a light came on, l had to come back to add this.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Ask Skippy submission

—————-

72: Oct. 1

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU SO MUCH MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON … 🎼” back to black”🎼…… uncomfortably reunion …… “ AND THE CROWDS WENT…… home”… “blend in with the POC”🤣🤣🤣🤣…… Pressed for time. …… PR with blinkers… don’t Sue the messenger …… Harry on camping…… background colour …… “ bloody African Queen ‘ don’t think so”…… “ returning after their triumphant tour “…… OMG’ it’s definitely her

🎼” back to black”🎼

Amy Winehouse, what a tragic loss, she was working so hard to get clean. So many talented people, artists, musicians, writers, throughout the ages have struggled with mental illness and addiction of varying types. This song is about lots of sex, relationship where her man comes and goes to other women and her dying inside, the couple using drugs together, extremely dysfunctional relationship. MM ANON , are you equating the current ones in discussion to the type of relationship in this heartbreaking song? I miss Amy Winehouse, they tried to make me go to rehab but l said no no no! RIP AMY🙏🏻

uncomfortably reunion

Return to London and interacting with the press was going to be tough back home. But now, l have no clue what’s going to happen. Reunions with the BRF, l have no words. HMTQ , PP LG everyone must be FURIOUS! I can imagine a lot of cocktails, late nights and foul words. This is all so unnecessary, look how our dear Autumn, she married Peter Philips, she’s Canadian, she has seamlessly adjusted. Hasn’t put a foot wrong. This is all down to one thing , evil, manifesting itself in heavy narcissism!

“ AND THE CROWDS WENT…… home”

We have had this line before. The ‘crowds’ yesterday at Victoria Yards , what l saw photos of two people, one on each side not standing too close and than two photographers. Others had children running up to her, she hugged them, Today, at uni, she has become patron of the ACU, Association of Commonwealth Universities. The comment in the paper said they ‘hailed her partially because she was black”. No huge crowds, the people didn’t linger long or wait hours and hours.

“blend in with the POC”🤣🤣🤣

She has been doing her own thing, likely all prearranged by PR, right down to someone from the embassy ordering bespoke 👖 jeans for her. She did the shopping walk about at Victoria Yards, buying things here and there. She personally went to puck up her jeans, the designer/maker was so excited, he had made a little pair for amw, they were so cute. So she was at the uni today, blending in, as per the comment l wrote .

Pressed for time.

Busy schedule for both of them during this holiday. I was hoping Harry could get into talks with Angolan government officials regarding becoming a Commonwealth member, that was the goal, his first attempt at a diplomatic mission. Pressed, ironing, l know this isn’t it, but gracious both of their clothes have been a mess. Wrinkled, ratty, those brown suede lace ups, Harry please toss them, please! They all need pressing/ironing. I know, MM ANON, that is not what you meant but it fits well. The press had their flight from London delayed about ten hours l think, they were not permitted at amw and DT meeting, it was all privately hired and now owned by the Sussex team. Now with what’s happened today, my mind is whirling in many directions for this clue.

PR with blinkers

Sirens for emergency, police, fire, ambulance. PR blinkers LLOK HERE something great happening. Or don’t look there, nothing to see at all carry on. I keep reading PR firms use the ‘dark arts’. The paper said that about Jason Stein, PA new PR guy, as well. Just what are these dark arts? PR is going off the charts upon return to the U.K. In fact, blinkers/sirens/looky here have just happened today with the letter from Harry and lawsuit filed against the DM for something they did months and months ago. Why now? Is it a last money grab? It’s nearing the end, Winter is coming, winter is coming.

don’t Sue the messenger

Well normally it’s don’t shoot the messenger, but here we finally have it today, lawsuit filed against the DM and it’s parent company. The stony silent press have been sitting on a dossier of lurid information,a stand-off, so to speak is over. The British Press have kept schtum on a dossier so raunchy, l cannot fathom. Today, shots fired off the bow, and battle has begun. I said it last night in my riddle interpretation, we are near a tipping point, well that was last night, today, NOW , the tipping point has arrived. War has been declared, and it’s going to get very very VERY NASTY!

Harry on camping…

Harry was part of National Geographic and was laying on the ground in Malawi, taking the most amazing uplook photos near and of a Baobab tree. He looked in his element, out in nature, enjoying its beauty and taking photographs for his contributions to a joint project with Nat Geo.

background colour

She has always, professionally and socially identified as Caucasian, this has been her background. Seemingly, when convenient, things change, bronzer goes deeper, she calls herself sister to Africans. Interesting, beyond my comprehension how someone can continue and continue to use others, without any regard, none at all. You’re convenient, if l need something from you, l will take it, when you’re not of use bye bye.

“ bloody African Queen ‘ don’t think so”

Great film with Bogart and Hepburn, the African Queen is. But l digress, these are PP, words of disgust as her self perception of being a sister and POC , and thus more relatable and the Queen of Africa. I think she has the same skin tone as before, before the bronzer face overload. You look at today’s photos her arms and legs are pink, it’s especially noticeable when she is standing next to a local person of a different culture. I am boiling at this point. The powder keg has been lit. We wait for response from HMTQ!

“ returning after their triumphant tour “

Yes, like the Prodigal son returns after doing whatever he wanted and was welcomed with open arms! Ah no, that will DEFINITELY NOT BE THE WELCOME, ESPECIALLY AFTER TODAYS EXPLOSIVES LOBBED AT THE BRITISH MEDIA! They have sat silent on what they know for over two years! Taking to court, something called discovery in the U.S., both sides have to share their data. The welcome home was going to be explosive because of madams behaviour and ESPECIALLY because amw was paraded around like an Olympic medal!

OMG’ it’s definitely her”

Allegedly, can’t recall, ?last week, the alleged sex tape salad tape was sold. Is this meaning it’s in good lawful hands and they are convinced it’s madam??

Is this what people said when they saw her just out shopping yesterday, enjoying the buskers performance, surprising the designer and picking up her order? I honestly was happy for him, because he was so excited and he had been so thoughtful to make a pair for amw. He said he was so shocked to see her there in person. Again l am so happy for him. I hope his business increases through this media coverage!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! This looks great! Good things coming! Greatly appreciate the effort you put in on doing the riddles for us! 🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

——————

73: Oct. 2

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF BIRTHDAY MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

🥳🥳🥳🥳🎂🎂🎂🎂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🍻🍻🍻🍻🍻WISHES FOR THE HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY, JUST SORRY I AM SO LATE AT IT🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳💜💜💜💜💜

MM Anon… Happy Birthday to you!

MM ANON …… A TM visit?…… a pitiful cry for help …… “tears of a Crown”…… “ Philip’ stop swearing!!”…… ink block carnage … a scathing edi-TORY-al……”A Sunday surprise “…… “well,well,well’ fe-MAIL- empowerment”…… Fleet St. circling the wagons …… 🎼 “ Homeward bound, I guess ………” 🎼j…… … ace card archificial …… “SA’ well that was a dud Megs”…… leap-Frog to Calipornia 🤫🤫🤫

A TM visit?

Oh my golly!! Is gramma Tom, Thomas MArkle, going to be visiting?😮😮😮😮 Will this be like when Samantha came to KP, in her wheelchair, that’s was so sad to see, they wouldn’t let her through security. Will TM just show up? I doubt he has that confidence. Ha ha speaking of confidence, did you know that was the original name for con, confidence game, you’d gain someone’s confidence or trust and then use then every which way you can. Anyhow again l digress, back to TM, are they arranging some sort of visit garnering public sentiment? Don’t bother Rachel, the public has developed sentiment and more than a plenty of it, it its far from good! After yesterday, nothing is left, of what little there was. But her MO, HRC AND EDGENERATE LOVE YOU! That makes a perfect life, with the one thing, they’re AMERICAN! Again my American friends, l love you, not bashing you, just a select few. Last time l checked, the titles you bear are British and Commonwealth titles.

a pitiful cry for help

I saw Harry today, in the still photos it was evident, but in the video, l KNOW WHAT HES FEELING BECAUSE I HAVE LIVED IT FOR 12 YEARS, AND LAST WEEK YOU ALL KNOW WHAT L WAS SUFFERING! Something has happened, he has either worked out his anger physically to such a point he’s torn a muscle or he has a slipped disc. The pain, as he stepped up to the podium, this time, him holding onto her, and his involuntary wincing, and trying to cover it up, L KNOW THAT PAIN. Please, PLEASE GET HIM HOME, BETWEEN, his mood, his wasting away, and now this, for goodness sake he needs being seen urgently, an MRI, and REST!! I am certain he has either been given an injectable for pain along with oral meds. Oh Harry, we are slowly watching you falling apart in every way. My heart aches beyond measure, when l saw the pain he is in, the physical pain, l know that, l live it!! Imagine his humiliation having to learn on madam, oh makes me sick.

“tears of a Crown”…

There is an old song, Tears of a Clown, think this is play on that. However, Crown, capitalized, is like the Royal We, it refers specifically to the reigning Monarch. Imagine HMTQ tears, yesterday especially, and today seeing him in pain. She has ruled for decades and decades. Nearing the end of her reign, when life should be treating her kind for her service, it has dealt her a well planned, well financed attack, involving use of her beloved grandson. I feel for her pain, yet l cannot fathom how deep it goes and how it must anger some and pain others in the family. The rage at this attack and the rubble it has left since it began spread far and wide across the U.K. , the Commonwealth and the world. Please let’s once again remember to pray for HMTQ.

“ Philip’ stop swearing!!”

As l speculated yesterday, in the riddle, there would likely be lots of cocktails, lots of foul language and lots of sleeplessness. This clue affirms one, HMTQ begging her husband to cease and desist the language. PP is an Alpha male, strong, Navy man, soldier, stalwart, ever present at HMTQ side. Now in his twilight years, just imagine his anger and feelings of helplessness, he too, is in need of our prayers. How l worry about both of them and their health. All of this woe and strife has to be having a marked detrimental effect on both and all around them.

ink block carnage

Ink blocks can be carved of stone or wood and are used for new beginners or more skilled calligraphers. Now madam has for quite some time put calligraphy on her CV(resumé). This has riled up actual skilled calligraphers who have said what she does, is not true calligraphy, it is flouncy fluffy writing, as girls do in junior high school. This letter, that she dated, signed and sent to daddy has come back to haunt , yet again . The carnage, the use of the media in the U.S. ie p e o p l e magazine, and in the U.K. Funny, it’s ok, for her pals to chatter on in a magazine but the person who the letter was given, to hence his property, cannot. Double standard yet again. The carnage continues. Lawsuit filed, letter supposedly written by a furious PH, accompanied it, all without consulting or informing HMTQ or the Palace. Don’t you worry, not a White happens without LG knowing! Again l remind you of that special wedding ring Harry wears. I will leave it there!

a scathing edi-TORY-al

Piers Morgan, editor of The Daily Mail and host of Good Morning Britain, formally identified as a Tory or Conservative, we call them Tories also, back in 1994. He today, had an editorial ready positive regarding the SA trip. He wrote the editorial but had to add to it. It did include positives, but then turn into a scathing public reprimand of yesterday’s occurrences. I would encourage you all to read it. I won’t repeat it all, but he pointed out the unmitigated gall of madam and the Princess Diana comparison, the usage of the media when on her own terms, madam, l mean. I cannot do it justice, just please read it. It is scathing to put it mildly, he pulls no punches, his cards are all laid out on the table 100%!

”A Sunday surprise “…

Will it ACTUALLY HAPPEN? Finally headlines printing of all the information in the million dollar dossier that the papers have been sitting on for two plus years now! Oh how dee doodee how l hope so! PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE WITH SUGAR AND A CHERRY 🍒 ON TOP!!!

“well,well,well’ fe-MAIL- empowerment”

Femail is a subset on the Daily Mail website, fluff meant for women, hence the cute usage and spelling. Madam features heavily there. She spoke about female empowerment and female access to education during her visit to the University of Johannesburg yesterday. Again she raised the idea of paying for university, she said she attended but did not, that l read, mention graduating or a degree. She mentioned families helping to finance the cost. She also announced four new scholarships. Earlier in the week she held a private breakfast for female activists.

Fleet St. circling the wagons

Fleet St(Street), is like the Royal we, it’s the term for British Media.Going back to 1500’s this was the street of printing and newspapers appeared several centuries now. It’s the term understood to represent British or London journalists and journalism. Circling the wagons again goes back hundreds of years, when the first settles arrived and moved out west. They were encroaching on native lands and often were attacked. They literally circled their wagons for shelter and protection. Now the tutorial done l can move on. Fleet st circling their wagons oh me , oh my!! Get ready kittens!!! The previews are almost over the main film, no pun intended, ACTUALLY MAJOR PUN INTENDED 🤣🤣😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣! The main film is about to begin, it’s all ready to roll and l for one am waiting with bated breath!!

🎼 “ Homeward bound, I guess

Again we have S&G(Simon and Garfunkel) homeward bound, sitting at the railway station……. not to Cali. Oh no no no, this is HOME, LONDON, tee here, no delays. The inevitable must happen, play time over and back to the real world. The usage of ‘lguess’, is hesitancy for her because it’s not her home, for him, because l can’t imagine his feelings and what he anticipates his reception will be!

” 🎼j…… … ace card archificial

You’ve got to have an ace in the hole by George Strait. MM ANON, l highly doubt this is the song you meant but it fits beautifully! It’s all about life, secrets, gambling etc etc. The ace card is from wiki. An ace is a playing card, die or domino with a single pip. In the standard French deck, an ace has a single suit symbol (a heart, diamond, spade, or club) located in the middle of the card, sometimes large and decorated, especially in the case of the ace of spades. This embellishment on the ace of spades started when King James VI of Scotland and I of Englandrequired an insignia of the printing house to be printed on the ace of spades. This insignia was necessary for identifying the printing house and stamping it as having paid the new stamp tax.[1] Although this requirement was abolished in 1960, the tradition has been kept by many card makers.[2] In other countries the stamp and embellishments are usually found on ace cards; clubs in France, diamonds in Russia, and hearts in Genoa because they have the most blank space.

The BRF have archficial as their ace, she thinks she does🤣🤣🤣😂😂

The whole fauxmegnancy, EVERYTHING that went along with it, finally seeing a real breathing baby in SA, many many ramifications. It’s not Harry’s child, DEFINITELY not of the body, may be her egg but surrogate carried alllegedly baby. The whole doll, thing, l have no idea how all this information will be leaked/shared with public.

“SA’ well that was a dud Megs”…

Dud, funny word, not used much these days but to a certain vintage,🤣🤣😂😂😂 like me , commonplace. It is a thing that fails to work properly, another word is lemon, again my vintage. Something that is worthless. However, when my mum used to say get your duds on, it meant hurry up get dressed, put your coats on. For church or elsewhere fancy, it was said you put your finest duds on. Memories anyone?😊. Here MM ANON certainly means the former, not the latter, although some of the duds, a lot of them have been very wrinkled and on madams part buttoned low at the bust and unbuttoned very high at the thigh. Well for the most part, her machinations aside, they were well received. What occurred yesterday by way of lawsuit announce was most bizarre timing. They just can’t seem to stop getting in their own way. The letter that is identified as being from Harry, has many many Americanisms. Taken only on paper, one could say, despite it being attributed as his words, one can say full stop this was written by an American, no offence. The wordage, sentence structure and the glaring use of the word democracy, when the U.K. has been a Monarchy, albeit with Parliament now, it most certainly is never ever defined as being a democracy. How do they let these things slip? These billion dollar PR firms? I know, we only need look who their client is. Full stop.

leap-Frog to Calipornia 🤫🤫🤫

Frogmore is the official residence, we all know they have never lived there. The locals told and continued to say the only time there were lights, vehicles, signs of life were when the builders were there. Interesting MM ANON Cali PORNIA. Good gracious, is this her plan, to hop across the pond back to Cali and earn $$$$££££€€€€ making porn? That just might be the job a madam is most deft at and qualified for.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! I love your wit! You make reading your interpretations such fun, I get lost in them! Thank you so very much! This is sounding sooooooo good! Love you!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜

Oct 2nd,

——————

74: Oct. 3

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON! I HOPE YOUR BIRTHDAY WAS DELIGHTFUL 😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON …… rogue withdrawal …… a petulant rattle slays fleet st. …… royal analysis paralysis ……… “ settlement now!!!! ……TM lawyers up…… tabloid utopia …… “ This is a bloody tape diversion old thing “…………“A spitting Halloween 🎃 “……… “ remember ‘remember, the 5th of Nov.” …… “ Philip ‘ this year you give the Queen speech”…… 🎆🎇😱🇬🇧💩⚖️⚖️⚖️…… GBTQ.

rogue withdrawal

They say Harry has gone rogue by marrying against advice. They say Harry went rogue releasing the statement in November 2016 when madam told him she felt unsafe and race was an issue. I never knew she was not Caucasian until this came out. They say Harry has again gone rogue not so much with the lawsuit, which by the way HE IS NOT SUING!! It is in her name the lawsuit has been filed. Back to they say he has again gone rogue by that blistering angry letter on their website that also listed the lawsuit information. So withdrawal, to remove or take something away from a place or position. It can also mean to leave or cause to leave a place or situation. So , this clue is basically meaning, he/ they have left SA on a very angry tone , things will be interesting as they settle back in London. Just wondering are we back to a doll now? Was the baby SA? Or American? Or who, what, where, when, how and why. These are the tenets of being a good interviewer, getting those basics down. Don’t you just hate it when people use the word basically all the time? I do apologize for that!🤣🤣😂😂😂

a petulant rattle slays fleet st.

Well this is basically saying a moody grumpy baby threw his rattle out of his pram and slayed Fleet Street. I explained Fleet Street in yesterday’s riddle, it’s the street in London for centuries where the newspapers are printed. It’s now synonymous with British/London journalists and journalism. There have been a number of editorials penned, PM being the most scathingly critical of PH. They are describing their assessment of his behaviour as entitled, spoilt, selfish, immature, et al, hence the way this clue is worded. To put things short and simple they see him as a spoilt child whose had a bad temper tantrum, for no logical reason, right after he has been given ten days worth’s of gifts ie positive PR. You decide for yourself, l am just explaining this clue.

royal analysis paralysis

Are they really paralyzed? Unable to take any action? The public has been clamouring for months, for HMTQ to DO SOMETHING! Read the comments in the DM, any media, in pubs, in workplaces everywhere, people are wondering why nothing , in their eyes, is being or has been done to rein her in and by virtue of his proximity to her and what’s happened this week, rein him in also. We know very well she called LG back for help. The things like separating of offices, separating the Cambridges and the Sussexes, the Heads together has happened awhile ago. Their office was moved to BP. PC cut off their funds a few weeks ago. I am 100% certain there have been so many things going on internationally in the background, most of which will remain classified we will never know. International security is at play. Then we have PA and JE with GM. So l would encourage people just to have a think before determining their paralysis analysis is correct.

“ settlement now!!!!

Is Harry demanding settlement? He cannot take anymore? Or is this any number of family, PC, PW, PP, who see him wasting away , want this settled and over? This has gone way past a quick settlement and life goes on as before. The whole plan in its evil agenda, still exists. People are demanding rid of her, take their titles away, ship them off to California and live as private citizen celebrities.

TM lawyers up

TM, Thomas Markle, madams father or daddy as she calls him, has lawyered up? I read all the papers about six this morning, l didn’t read that. A family of grifters, sounds like a country music song. There have been those who have had their doubts about the provenance of madam and whose who in this group of individuals. There have been people who believe they are all working together in this alleged project. I have no clue. If he has lawyered up, it is a very wise thing. This thing just is festering and festering for two years now, how much more can it fester before the boil needs lancing or it explodes on its own? I wonder who his lawyer is and who is paying his legal bills. 🤔🤔🤔

tabloid utopia

Let’s define these words so we all know what the basics are. A tabloid is a newspaper having pages half the size of those of a standard newspaper, typically popular in style and dominated by headlines, photographs, and sensational stories.lets be clear tabloid social media is much more common these days. Utopia is defined an imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect. So madams PR for , since November 2016 has been thus. Fake relationship kept going through PR, Vanity Fair article. Twitter accounts multiple. All the thousands of PR articles have depicted a perfect marvellous life. Perfect husband, perfect love, marriage, shortly after wedding of perfection followed by pregnancy, fauxmegnancy, that lasted a year, resulting in many a cat and mouse game, born, not born, where, boy? Girl? Name? Photos not photos. It’s craziness. Everyone is fatigued, imagine how Harry feels! He is wasting away and breaking apart right before our eyes. Whether you think him complicit or not, there is no denying, hair loss, weight loss, looks like he hasn’t slept, ratty shoes wrinkled clothes and now the obvious back pain. A caring spouse would not have stood there smugly grinning like a Cheshire Cat next to him while he was giving a speech on obviously agonizing pain.

“ This is a bloody tape diversion old thing “

LG speaking with HMTQ. He is giving her his well educated opinion based upon his knowledge of the intel.This lawsuit is a massive look 👀 here, don’t look 👀 there, nothing interesting to see over there , LOOK HERE ARMS WAVING LOOK 👀 HERE!! This lawsuit is a massive distraction, or diversion to use LG’s words from tape that is now safely secured by LG and in possession of ‘the grey men’. Reassuring her, helping her process all of this stuff happening that is so hard to process. The average person in a lifetime will never encounter a narcissist on this scale.

“A spitting Halloween 🎃 “

Oh my goodness!!!! We heard a week or two back the British satirical puppet television show Spitting Image, was returning. Check old episodes out on YouTube it’s brutally hilarious!Is this telling us Hallowe’en is the first episode? It spares satirizing no one, royals, politicians, celebrities etc etc. Oh my how fabulous this would be🤣😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣. Just IMAGINE the costumes each character would wear🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂Oh the wig, the eye lash glue🤣😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣. Oh l hope the CBC airs it!! Please share it please!

“ remember ‘remember, the 5th of Nov.”

from Wikipedia, to save my hands, typing more challenging today.

Festivities in Windsor Castle by Paul Sandby, c. 1776

Guy Fawkes Night, also known as Guy Fawkes Day, Bonfire Night and Firework Night, is an annual commemoration observed on 5 November, primarily in the United Kingdom. Its history begins with the events of 5 November 1605 O.S., when Guy Fawkes, a member of the Gunpowder Plot, was arrested while guarding explosives the plotters had placed beneath the House of Lords. Celebrating the fact that King James I had survived the attempt on his life, people lit bonfires around London; and months later, the introduction of the Observance of 5th November Actenforced an annual public day of thanksgiving for the plot’s failure.End of Wikipedia.

Ha ha! Guy Fawkes, BONFIRE NIGHT IN 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 SCOTLAND, This has come up before, l have explained it. In case you didn’t see that, this goes back centuries. This day is still commemorated each year, and in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿, it’s fabulous fun. Everyone setting off fireworks 💥 hence the term bonfire night, drinks all around and just a really fun night. One time, the house down the road, l don’t think he planned it well, too close to the house and a rocket crashed into the roof 🤣🤣😂😂😂😂. No major damage, likely too much drink involved 🤣🤣😂😂.

“ Philip ‘ this year you give the Queen speech”

HMTQ, speaking to her beloved likely half jokingly and half seriously. The Queen, speaks in the third person, which means she doesn’t say l or me, she says we would like tea or you may leave us now, l hope that makes sense. So with this sentence structure, the way it’s worded, reads to me as if they are having a one on one conversation about the Annual Christmas message. However, it may also be, but l don’t think so, since the word Annual is used,the Reigning Monarch speaks at the official opening of parliament. Since the Courts ruled the proroguing of Parliament was not valid, they can just resume Parliament. I think this is referring to HMTQ Annual Christmas message. I am attempting as l do the riddles, to help the worldwide readership here understand with background information we may take for granted that everyone knows. Each year on Christmas Day, at noontime, we stop and watch HMTQ Annual Christmas message on the tv. It’s a major part of Christmas Day as l was growing up and still watch to this day. It’s about ten or fifteen minutes or so. She reviews the major things that have happened, along with family milestones, weddings, babies etc. She always looks fabulous, but when does she not? She’s amazing! Sounds like things are just hitting her tolerance level and she is leaning on her husband who has been at her side all these years she has reigned.

🎆🎇😱🇬🇧💩⚖️⚖️⚖️

Fireworks times two, Britain will be shocked and mortified at the shi* that will be exposed in this lawsuit! She made a very very very bad move in the game she has been playing, let me rephrase that, her backers instructed her to make a very very bad move. One wonders , the letter from ‘Harry’ says this has been many months in the making. HRC tweet occurred, just before the U.S.Open. Madam jumped a flight to NYC less than 48 hours later. Methinks that was the genesis of this lawsuit.she played nice, sort of, because her nice is still not nice!!! in SA so the press were manipulated so she could say they were sometimes nice sometimes unbearable. My sentence structure is horrid but l hope my points are coming across! So not months in the making but weeks. One needs public sentiments, in a good way in any PR war, and this is war that has moved to the Courts. Remember we heard months ago, rather obtusely that a nephew was encouraged by his uncle to consult his grandfathers mate, regarding the higher courts? I believe it was in a riddle. I wonder if Harry was anticipating this day and action might come and wanted to prepare himself by getting knowledge from a trusted, well advised court. I cannot recall the title of this person, but he is an old mate of PP. This decision is going to turn out the be the final blow-out battle that has been coming for two years. The Mail on Sunday will not back down, and they have their dossier, she has way more to lose than they do. The public will NOT stand for any more impingement on their freedom of speech. For example, just look what happens in the DM comments when comments don’t appear or are removed, sometimes people banned or doxxed. Online, in social media things of a similar nature have happened, to our dear 🐼also. People will resist, they will not stand for it. There has been such outrage over money wasted, privilege, disrespect towards HMTQ and the citizen of the U.K. and Commonwealth.

GBTQ.

GOD BLESS. THE QUEEN!! INDEED!!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! How you can do these riddles is beyond me! Wow! Love it! They get more and more interesting all the time! Thank you, I know today is not a great day, so the effort you put into this for us all. Is so appreciated! You are the best! Thank you!🙏🏻💜💜💜

Skippy

Oct 3rd, 2019

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75:

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜WISHING YOU A GRAND WEEKEND 💜😊💜

MM Anon

MM ANON …… Meanwhile at CH…… A Family meeting’ o dear!!…… “ One is apoplectic with disappointment “… (two red faces)…… “ this isn’t a game of happy f%#@k families!!!”…… an atmospheric cut…… legs and tails …… They Aga successful …… in the brown Windsor soup……a green beret chum…… nutmeg begs…… happy Harry …… SS documentary’s doom

1255 hrs CST

Meanwhile at CH

CH is Clarence House, the former home of the Queen mum. Prince Charles and Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall now reside there and their offices are based there also. The clue reminds me of the saying, when life gets very hectic, meanwhile back at the ranch, meaning change of topic to get your mind off it, or in a movie it’s a complete change of scene. I hope that makes sense. I am desperately trying to make terms, words, phrases, for those who aren’t familiar, I WANT EVERYONE 😊😊😊😊WHO TAKES THE TIME TO READ MY INTERPRETATIONS TO BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND! That’s extremely important to me. So interpretation, what’s going on at CH? Imagine the scurrying, the SA tour, amw on display like a medal 🎖 won at the Olympics, but not to his home country, a foreign one. Add to that madams lawsuit, and now Harry filing suit, it must be mayhem. Phone hacking must bring back memories of PC and Camilla whose naught naught private conversations were recorded and made public. They were mortified.They are balancing a dozen glass plates in the air , which one first?? Interesting Harry’s suit was filed last Friday but we are only learning of it now.

A Family meeting’ o dear!!

HMTQ has summoned everyone, this must be discussed and dealt with, l am speaking of madam, her lawsuit, but more pressing is the massive security breach allowing their phones to be hacked. I think a massive security overhaul and everyones mobiles, computers etc etc will need securing.I think decisions have been made in how to proceed, it may be explaining what will happen next. Some may say it’s an intervention, for Harry. An intervention, in the way l am meaning, happens when an addict is confronted by loved ones, usually with a therapist, often a surprise to the individual to be blunt in how they have been affected by the addicts behaviour, give them ultimatum, or choice, go to rehab or we severe or cut off all ties with you. I don’t think that way, l am still 100% behind Harry, he shrunken, depressed, in pain, and massively loyal to his granny HMTQ! I will not be dissuaded from my belief.

“ One is apoplectic with disappointment “

Let us review what apoplectic means, it is to be overcome with anger or extremely indignant, feeling or showing anger or being very annoyed at what is perceived as unfair treatment. Here we have the third person usage of the word One, that means it is HMTQ speaking. She is angry and very disappointed by something. I am certain this phone hacking, which was filed last Friday and made public today brings back memories of this happening before. She must be furious! Again many will say it’s about Harry. I am certain she has these feelings about where his initial poor choices and thinking he could manage madam on his own, and where this has led to.

(two red faces)

Harry and Rachel, is it possible those hacked phones and messages were of a very very VERY personal nature not with each other but others and that would be tres embarrassing. Your face reddens or blushes when embarrassed. I can only begin to imagine what they got on her from her phone. Harry, also, where was their security teams. Those phones should be firewalled up the wazoo. Did they learn NOTHING from the squidgy tapes with Diana or PC with Camilla wanting to be her you know the word!

“ this isn’t a game of happy f%#@k families!!!”

PP speaking, nothing is a game, to madam it’s a game , getting $$$££££€€£, using people, smug look when Harry was obviously so much in pain. This is the most serious game, by the way, have you ever read the story,The Most Dangerous Game ? It was mandatory read in my school curriculum, l can’t recall which grade.THATS A STORY! I can only, l have said this with almost every time l write about PP, imagine his rile, anger, fury even, at the goings on. A man’s man as we used to say, rugged, professional naval veteran, lifelong royal veteran, watching this all unfold. I am certain he has had his advice sought, especially from HMTQ, but he’s retired, he is unable to act, to do anything to stop this. I pray for them both.🙏🏻

an atmospheric cut

Atmosphere is defined as the envelope of gases surrounding the earth or another planet or , the one l think applies best here is the pervading tone or mood of a place or situation. I imagine the atmosphere at BP and with the royals, especially the Senior royals you could cut the tension with a knife. That’s a common saying , things get to intense people are almost frozen, cut it with a knife, literally not metaphorically yes.

legs and tails

Heads or tails are the usual when you flip a coin, here MM ANON has given us legs and tails. Well everyone since day one has had comment after comment about madams legs. Tails, well it does have a raunchy meaning, you either know or you don’t, this l am no sharing!

They Aga successful

William and Catherine met with the Aga Khan yesterday at the Aga Khan Centre in King’s Cross. This was to connect before their trip to Pakistan October 14 - 18,2019. The royal visit has been organized in co-operation with the High Commission of Pakistan. William and Kate met community leaders and business figures as well as musicians, chefs and artists from the Pakistani diaspora. Aga Khan is a title given to the Imam (leader) who serves as the spiritual leader of the Ismaili branch of Shiite Islam The current Aga Khan is 83-year-old Prince Shah Karim al-Husseini, the 49th Imam. The Imam role acts much like a royal dynasty, as the same family has passed down the title for the past 1,300 years. I recall reading in the paper his bloodline goes back to the Prophet Mohammed. He is a very revered and respected worldwide. Our PM and his family vacationed with him. They have known him since they were young when their father Pierre was our PM, Justin Trudeau now serves as his father did. This is all planning so that their visit builds on the success of Princess Diana’s trip years ago, in relationship building. This was a very important meeting and one that went exceedingly well. As usual, Catherine dressed completely appropriately, as she does! So this was a very successful prelude to the upcoming Royal tour to Pakistan 🇵🇰.

in the brown Windsor soup

What’s brown Windsor soup, lots of you are asking. It goes back to the Victorian era. Simply put, is a British meat soup that is said by when food was more scarce. Warm and hearty as it could be, warmed an empty belly. We might call it a sort of comfort food. The term brown Windsor soup became shorthand for horrible food and was used as a prop by comics in the post-war years. So if you’re in the soup, your rations are running low. Is madam broke? Or very nearly?

a green beret chum

What is a green beret some ask, was the official headdress of the British Commandos during WWII. It is still worn by members of the Royal Marines after passing the Commando Course and personnel from other units of the Royal Navy, Army and RAF who serve within Third Commando Brigade. and who have passed the All Arms Commando Course. The Duke of Sussex attended the revered has presented them with their green berets at Bickleigh the 42 Commando Royal course. Is Harry spending time with veteran chum to help him with his PTSD and the huge stress and strain he has been under? Only a veteran can truly understand the horrors and be entrusted to be there. I sincerely hope that is what this clue is, because Harry needs help in every facet of his being.l prayed 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 so long for him last night.

nutmeg begs

What is she begging for l wonder?🧐🤔🤔 Is she begging to rescind the lawsuit with the blow-up. Is she begging please please not to share the information obtained from her mobiles, l am sure she has several, after all how many twitter accounts does she have☺️☺️🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. Fearing the blowback of the MOS revealing what all they have kept schtum on all this time. I don’t think she thought through the ramifications of what she has done by filing suit. But, then again, thinking has never been her forté nor her job, her backers did and continue to do all the thinking, planning and ordering her actions.

happy Harry

This is a crazy clue because the only time l saw Harry happy, like for real happy, in the last two plus years, was the day he attended the Anzac Day service with Catherine. Now, within the last hour, word has been announced that he has filed lawsuits against The Sun and The Mirror and the owners for hacking his phone. This is way more serious that madams issue. There would, if in fact this happened, would have required very skilled intelligence people because of his status l a certain his mobile is very very secured OR IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN!! I cannot fathom what would make him happy, unless her begging is for a divorce and leaving , or just plain leaving. The only rabbit l can pull out of this hat, is that his mission is complete now that the SA and other African country visits are complete. He can now heal and resume some semblance of a life! I hope and pray l am correct!

SS documentary’s doom.

A whole lot of bang for your buck or should l say the backers buck eh Rachel?? One might even think they had two clients, the one that paid more wanted them to pretend to be her PR the while working against!, Dont cry for me Argentina, song from Evita! the play/film 🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 make that don’t cry for me Rachelina 🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂Since SS has come on board things have gone from worst to unimaginable worse🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. They’re not long for this world, likely they have already been sacked.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

1430 hrs CST Oct 4

Thank you PG! This looks interesting….fun times coming! Much appreciated

Oct 4th,

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76: Oct. 5

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON …… chocolate sundae …… don’t give up your day job …… single exit west …… a SMALL diversion … “ is he mine?” …… home alone ………… “ I fear for them Philip” …… Duty calls …… 🎼” you wore out your welcome with random precision “🎼……… “ we must talk Harry”……… jack and Jill went up the hill ……… “ it’s all on This memory stick.

October 5,2019 2030 hrs

chocolate sundae

What’s better than a chocolate sundae? Hmmmmm maybe a chocolate MOS(Mail on Sunday) 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁 MM ANON are you cleverly telling us that there will be oh so sweet tidbits of final exposure in the MOS and or other media? Chocolate may be colour, or maybe chocolate sauce was used in lieu of salad dressing in the tossed salads! My mind never knew these things before, madam has affected or infected all of us in filthy ways!

don’t give up your day job

This is an expression used when someone is doing something very very poorly like singing at the karaoke, or something like that. I am surmising here that madams performance in the video that allegedly exists is not Oscar worthy🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. What’s the difference, none of her others have been, especially the penultimate role as DOS,!!! I wish they had a spitting emoji!

single exit west

Is this suggesting that madam will do an exit stage left, as they used to say in the cartoons, and leave by herself and head west across the pond? Please go, we will all pitch in for the one way ticket, just go away!! Is she going to take archficial?? Who will care for him??🤣🤣😂

a SMALL diversion

Diversion, is a distraction, SMALL in all caps, that’s done to elevate that word. So what is the diversion and who is using and needing it? All roads lead to Rome , but in this case all roads lead to madam. She thought her lawsuit was the cats meow, she must have been thunderstruck, sorry AC/DC reference..see l am learning from MM ANON😁! But she must have been thunderstruck to learn Harry had filed suit a week ago bit more now, against hacking. Her proverbial goose is really cooked, as l have no doubt hacking was used to gather intel on him, William Catherine any of them, this plot has been in the planning for years! Her searching for Harry’s mobile so furiously, l am SOOOOOOO glad whoever sought that on film!!

“ is he mine?”

References back to Morocco when Harry made the comment “is it mine” Everyone in the room laughed except madam, l am sure she was seething with rage! So here we have is HE mine? So one wonders at what this means, is this a typo, or did l get it wrong? Nevertheless, the meaning and interpretation is the same.Those who were already sceptical took this as a major clue from Harry. The bulk of people thought he was just being silly. The line he said before that was something like Oh, you’re pregnant?? So we know it’s not Harry’s child, they were never intimate post wedding, grounds for annulment! MM ANON clue is telling us that we are going to shortly find this out, ok shortly is my wish but it’s all going to come out. If madam does a runner to the U.S. won’t that be interesting. She has no idea what her backers are really capable of, she should be afraid very afraid of who she’s tethered to and how much information she knows!

home alone

Poor archficial, all alone, outlived his usefulness. But madam is home alone or not depending whose sofa she’s sleeping on or staying with. Harry is back to Not Cot with his dog, l am sure his dog will give him a royal welcoming. Those of you who have dogs know how therapeutic they can be.

“ I fear for them Philip”

HMTQ sharing concerns for Duke and Duchess of Cambridge as they take on this high risk Royal tour of Pakistan. There are many, including sugars who would delight with glee if something untoward would occur. Security will be very very very tight, the outlay of the tour states it will be their most complex tour yet. The itinerary will be kept close at the best as to where they are visiting specifically etc etc, it will be a pure military and RPO nightmare to keep them safe. They , on the other hand will represent HMTQ with aplomb, they will be relaxed or appear so and l foresee thus being a hugely successful Royal tour. We must pray for all involved!🙏🏻

Duty calls. Harry has several appearances , as Prince Harry on October 10,2019 international Mental Health Day. Back to duty he goes, he , you can never dissuade me , is 100% loyal to HMTQ. He will resume his duties. I hope in the interim there has been time to debrief, talk about what happened in the field upon return to home base . I have led many debriefings, they take place in many firms, people of crimes, military after a tour of duty, firemen or police officers after a bad scene or officer involved shooting, healthcare staff after assault or violent incident etc etc you get it. 🎼” you wore out your welcome with random precision “🎼

MM ANON returns to Pink Floyd, Shine On You Crazy Diamond. Song someone wanting it all willing to do anything, end up dark and exposed by the light. This is a marvellous lyric to describe the situation that is now happening? HOW DO YOU DO THIS MM ANON? YOU’RE BEYOND BRILLIANT! I THINK WRITING THESE RIDDLES FAR JARDER THAN SOLVING, I TAKE MY HAT OFF TO YOU! I AM WRITING UPPERCASE BECAUSE I WANT TO RESPECT HER AND HAVE HER TAKE NOTICE.

we must talk Harry”

HMTQ, His attorney, PC, PW or all talk about what is really going on, make a plan and figure out what the next step should be. I think the most important thing is, talk about how he is appearing, depressed, thin, stressed and in agony with his back. I am certain they are all worried sick at the toll this has taken on him in every way as are many of us.

jack and Jill went up the hill

Old child’s nursery rhyme it goes Jack and Jill ran up the hill to fetch a pail of water , Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.

Isn’t this a perfect description of where our Harry is at with a lot of people? He paired up with this Jill, sorry to all the Jill’s that read this, nothing personal, and since then it’s been one long for lack of better word sh** show of lack of respect for HMTQ, merch fest, etc etc. Harry’s crown or reputation is in tatters and now the media are furious by his statement, his altercation with Rhiannon Mills of Sky news and on and on. The ultimate fall, for her, is coming. She will tumble lower than low once the dossier on her is in the public realm and the alleged video!! I am waiting with bated breath for the MOS tomorrow!!

“ it’s all on This memory stick.

Yep everything about her, what she’s done, the backers, her calls back and forth with them, emails, videos, her yachting history, the lost years, the ‘Markle family’ everything is on this memory stick and LG has and it will be put to use. They have her, she got cocky in SA and invaded her own privasy☺️🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂🤣🤣. All laughs aside this has been a deadly serious plot to bring down the entire BRF! Justice is coming, the people of the U.K. and Commonwealth who aren’t taking the time to look beneath and take PR as truth will be shocked into disbelief. The process of truth telling will be a measured approach to be sure.

I am in awe of you two ladies! Wow! You speak the same “language”…..this again is amazing, and very informative…things are coming…fantastic! So appreciated! Thank you, dear PG and MM Anon!💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

gstqaobc

Thank you dearest MM ANON for the absolute honour and privilege of interpreting or at least attempting to, your riddles. 💜🐼💜🙏🏻☺️🐼☺️ Thank you for doing me the continued honour of allowing me to do my interpretations of MM ANON’s brilliant riddles and for posting my work! This has been so good for my brain 🧠 and exercising my. Rita al thinking skills! Let this be my small contribution to your blog and to being aTruth Seeker as Christ calls me to be. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

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