How does a bastard orphan son of a god-

No idea if this’ll work together/if you’re still doing the prompt list, but if so, I5?

This was so fun to write! Thanks for the request :)

5, I: Broken Pieces, “There’s nowhere to hide.”

“Look at you, writhing in the dust like some pitiful creature,” Villain’s voice rang out through the laboratory. Hero whimpered, curling tighter against the tiles. They had made the mistake of screaming for help, thinking someone would come for them. “I commend Supervillain for being so creative in their methods, all the equipment offers such an interesting aesthetic.”

The sound of footsteps grew closer. Hero couldn’t stand it. Their wounds ached, so much that their joints refused to move. They had to run. Fight back at least. The new hollowness in their core didn’t allow for such things anymore.

“Aw, has the little Hero decided they can’t take it anymore?” Too close. The Villain had to be feet away. A cry fell from the Hero’s lips even as they tried to be silent. Their nails dug into their knees, bare skin battered and bruised beneath the hospital gown they had been forced into. “There’s nowhere to hide.”

A cold hand gripped the back of Hero’s neck and a gasp was torn from the Hero’s lips. Villain lifted them to their feet, fingers like ice against the crime-fighter’s bare skin. They shivered uncontrollably, only half from the cold. Considerably shorter than the Villain, they weren’t even able to touch the ground.

A cackle bubbled up in the Villain’s throat and they cast their head back in a deep laugh. It made Hero’s bones shudder. “You won’t even fight back? You’re pathetic.”

They grasped a lock of Hero’s hair in their hand, yanking their head back. “Come on Hero, show me how strong you are. Use your precious powers. Defeat me like you always do.”

Tears welled in Hero’s eyes and a sob escaped their lips, “I can’t-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Villain’s eyes narrowed.

“No, no, please-” they struggled weakly in Villain’s grasp. Don’t fall apart. Don’t fall apart. It was useless. Hero couldn’t take it anymore, “I-I can’t. I can’t!” They sobbed.

“I don’t under-” Villain paused. Their gaze drifted to the corner of the room where Hero had been curled. Next to the space was a table with four metal cuffs mounted onto it; one for each limb. Beside it was a machine that nearly took up half the lab. Its mechanical hum sounded in the background and at once Villain understood.

“They took your powers?”

Hero nodded. They were limp in Villain’s hold, too weak to even raise their hand. Everything was gone, they had screamed as it drained from their veins though they could do nothing to stop it. Hero was nothing now but a shell. They choked through another wave of tears.

Villain grew silent. The hand gripping Hero’s neck loosened and ever so slowly they lowered the injured crime-fighter to the floor. Hero didn’t even protest when the Villain laid a hand over their forehead. They were burning up. Draining their powers had done more than take away their strength, it had stolen the extra physical endurance they needed to survive. Hero was no longer invincible. With these wounds, they could die.

Villain swore under their breath. Hero could die- and they hadn’t even been given the chance to fight for it.

“Hey, I need you to look at me,” they cupped Hero’s cheeks just as their eyes began to slip closed. Villain pushed away the guilt in their core when Hero flinched under their touch.

Their finger slipped down to feel for the Hero’s pulse. It was weakening with each shallow breath. In this state it was likely that Hero didn’t have much time. Not unless they received proper care.

But this was Villain’s nemesis they were thinking about! Endless nights face to face in pure wrath, it had filled their core with victory when they had stumbled upon their enemy. To see the Hero, fallen and helpless beneath them was nothing but bliss. No one was invincible, and this sight was all the more beautiful. How Villain had longed to watch the Hero fall. It had been their greatest desire- anything they could've ever wanted… but not like this.

Hero’s skin was growing ever warmer beneath their hand and yet they still shivered. No- Villain thought- not like this. If their greatest enemy were to be defeated it would be on fair ground, and beneath the hand of Villain themselves, not whatever twisted experiment Supervillain had performed.

Carefully, Villain scooped the weakened Hero into their arms. The Hero didn’t even try to fight it, not that the Villain was any sure that they could. Their eyes had fallen closed, though Villain ensured they were still breathing. Nightmares emerged from the Hero, who couldn’t help but whimper in their sleep. Villain did their best to silence the cries, gently running their fingers through their tangled hair and moving as fast as they could to their home. Where it would be safe.

As Hero called out in their sleep again, Villain ran a thumb under their cheek and whispered, “It’s alright. They’ve hurt you, and that I don’t yet know how to undo, but I promise you with everything that I will try,” They sighed and felt the crime-fighter steady in their arms, “Rest now. It’s going to be alright.”

Deep down the Villain hated to admit that they weren’t so sure.

†hê Ðêmðñ (the beauty of sin)

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You're a guardian angel who's never been tasked with protecting anyone. Since you've been here since Creation, sitting around in heaven hasn't brought you any rewards. You were looking forward to the day when you'd be assigned a human to look after. When that day finally arrives, things take an unexpected turn when you are assigned to Heeseung, a demon from the underworld.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: heeseung x female reader

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst, suggestive/smut

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 4k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: profanity, smut scenes, bad boy heeseung (lol), 

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: click me before reading!

➳ part of the drunk & dazed series

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

Sin is a spiritual virus that invades the whole being. It makes you morally and spiritually weak. It’s a deadly disease that infects every part of you: your body, your mind, your emotions, and your motives—absolutely everything. Nobody has the strength on their own to overcome its power.

Nobody should ever commit sin, never giving in to their worldly and sinful impulses. It's unjust and wrong. However, what is it about sin that makes it so fascinating and enjoyable?

It gave you joy to see it in his smile or the way his hands caressed your body. What a lovely thing sin is!

Even though some sins are innocent and enjoyable, sometimes regulations are supposed to be broken. Everyone, after all, is a sinner.

“WHAT!?,?” You began to sweat as you worriedly communicated your concerns to your overseer, “You must be mistaken, High Lord.”

“I understand the protocol; angels are supposed to serve as "guardian angels" to beautiful or broken souls on Earth. You know we're expected to look after them and keep an eye on them to make sure they stay on track. With all due respect, ma'am, I don't believe I'm qualified for this position; at the very least, someone of level 10 would be ideal.”

Her cream-colored wings swept her off her feet as she chuckled and waved for you to follow her. You sighed as you flutter up and away with her, trailing behind her, feeling a twitch in yours.

As you eventually caught up to her, dodging angels left and right, you apologized to random angels in your path, uncomfortably smiled at the people you bumped into with your wings.

You retracted your wings closer to you and walked uneasily beside your overseer as you carefully stepped down on the golden road.

Before you could say anything, she quietly took your hand in hers and gently kissed it, assuring you that everything would be alright. As you approached the center of the commotion, you bit your lower lip and remained silent.

Looking around at the community, it warmed your heart to see so many people, young and old, out here. Some you've known since the beginning of time, while others were born only last week. Everyone had gathered to witness the masterpiece that would emerge in an instant.

“You know Y/N I have complete faith in you that this first expedition will be a breeze,” you smiled, looking up at her with excitement and a tinge of fear in your eyes. “We wouldn't have suggested you for the job unless we knew who you really are, and you've earned it.” Don't worry, you were expecting this; now have a look.”

With her finger pointing to the stage forward, you were treated to yet another spectacular show. They're known as the "Grand Turning" in Heaven. This is where a new or seasoned angel has completed his or her training with a human or demon and earned their proper place in the community.

It could be a badge, a ribbon, or something more unique, such as the opportunity to talk with the all-powerful, our God.

Despite the fact that you were assigned to him, you were determined to get those jobs because they were the only way for you to ever get that honor. You weren't going to allow Mr. Unperfect take away that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Nobody could and will ever be able to make you fail this assignment; you were meticulously prepped. You were taught the correct and only way to do things, and now was your opportunity to shine. You were not going to be a Lucifer, cast from Heaven

“I'll do it,” you said to your supervisor, a smile on your face and confidence in your eyes. She turned to face you and hugged you passionately, rubbing your wings with a motherly devotion.

“I knew you could do it; now it's time to get you ready.”

---

When people have a near-death experience, they always remark that life flashes before their eyes. Unfortunately for angels, it's the contrary; when we're approached with a high-alert danger or warning, it's more of a gentle whisper in our ears. Normally more attentive while traveling to Earth.

The best place to be humans say.. What is with these fickle minded words?

You take a deep breath and turn to face your overseer, who is polishing her wings to ensure that they are kept in order. When having wings, a routine is taught from the beginning to keep them in a good up do. Nobody wants to look simple when you can look stunning.

She took your hand in hers and walked toward the end of the route, issuing some documents to the Pearl City Gate guards. You noticed the circular orb while glancing around.

"How can some humans believe in the world being flat, we literally have an air-like view. To me, it's definitely round.” She chuckled as she pinched your cheeks and turned your puzzled face to her.

“When you get down to earth, you'll see a lot of that, people with a lot of opinions. But what did you learn in your training?”

Standing up and smoothing your wings, you calmly shouted out the words as if they were written on the back of your palm.

“Although humans are the destroyers of their own precious planet, everyone's opinion matters, regardless of race, gender, or identity.”

“Well, not all,” you began scratching your head, “I've seen some harsh individuals in our study books, God should strike them down-“

“Um no ma'am, let us put it aside for the time being and focus on what needs to be done.” She started going over a list of laws and regulations for your descent to Earth. As you gave her a thumbs up, you were attentively listening and mentally bookmarking everything in their designated area.

I believe I have a good understanding of everything, and I think I am prepared.” She offered you a short hug before letting you go, showing her affection for you. You were going to miss her, despite the fact that it was a mutually-surface relationship.

“Last but not least, this ordeal will be different in that people will be able to see you. But if you have to use your wings, the lad is the only one who can see you. When you arrive, he will be waiting for you. My child, best of luck and may God bless you.”

You let go of her and moved toward the road's edge, gripping your bag as you turned to face her and waved farewell as you stepped over the brink.

“Wait a minute, what if-“

When you felt a push from behind, you tumbled off the ledge and spun around in the sky, where you saw a smiling face as you glanced up. They didn't tell you that you'd have to be pushed. As you plunged to Earth, you closed your eyes, terrified. Oh, how nice.

Screaming, you descended into the atmosphere, your narrowed eyes seeing glimpses of land here and there. Not letting up you let your wings cover your whole body as you plopped down onto soft green grass.

You peered out from your wings, gasping for air, and glanced up.

“Oh, Heavens”

His physique was slender, active, and well-groomed, with a trace of bad boy behavior in his scent. The first thing that struck your eye were the rips in his jeans. How could a man-made mistake seem to be so appealing? As you raised your eyes, you noticed tattoos splattered across his arms and up to his neck. His black velvet-like wings fluttering in the breeze, he raised his palm to his hair and stroked through the old curls, deconstructing the pattern they had once formed.

“Did you just pull a Lucifer or was this all planned?” he coughed as he put out his hand to you, taking a good look at you.

Stuttering in your words you quickly got up and patted yourself off and finally looked him in the eyes, noticing his dark eyes.

“Well, that wasn't supposed to happen, I hoped to fly down here and appear more Angel-like, but I think my overseer had other ideas.”

He said, "Ah," with a bored expression on his face.

“My name is Heeseung, and if you don't mind, I assume you don't.” I guess my name is well-known in Heaven. You're probably the fifth Angel who has appeared in the last year to “assist me.” What a load of bullshit; you can't hide what's already there, you know.”

He made a pouty look as he smirked closer to you before covering his hand with his mouth and saying, “oh forgive me, I suppose I have a potty mouth.”

Panicking at this new light, you smiled and coughed loudly and suddenly, “Before you say anything else, I'd want to inform you that I'm not like those angels we don't talk about. I have a holy standard that I adhere to.

He rushed to your face, rolling his eyes at your innocence, and murmured to you, "well see about that little Ms. Purity."

As you moved back and shook your head, spurring out prayers, you tugged the strings of your bag close to you, seeming irritated. Looking up, you noticed him hovering in mid-air with his arms crossed, waiting for you.

“Whether you're coming or not, I'm in the mood for a cup of coffee. Allow me to go fetch you one so that this whole ordeal between us may be over soon and we can both return to our respective worlds.”

You instantly snap open your wings and shot up into the sky, scoffing at his rudeness, and dash by him, racing to the left.

“It's this way, dummy,” he cackled as he immediately shot out. Embarrassed and annoyed, you flipped over to his side and flew alongside him, praying to the Lord for peace as your rage subsided.

“Lord, so help me”

---

 “So, what's on the agenda, Ms. Purity? There are a lot of things I'd want to do with you. You know, if you just ditch this whole act, we might be able to have some fun. He winked at you as he sipped his drink while peering across the table.

You shook your head and chuckled, gagging at his remark, "You must get all the girls, you appear really, what's the word, competent" I'm astonished since I assumed everyone down under was inept.”

He smirked and crossed his legs as he lay startled in his chair, cocking his head to the side. It's not that you were trying to be mean; it's just what you were taught. There are no hard feelings.

“Well, as much as I'd like to keep this delightful little date going, I have a commitment to fulfill. You know, duty calls.” You quickly got up and hurried after him, confused as to where he was going, as he shot up in the air and chuckled, waving farewell to you.

“Wait, Heeseung, you can't just go away like that. We need to figure out how I'm going to find you. You're being impolite by getting up and leaving.” You made yourself look insane since you didn't realize no one could see him. You wouldn't want to be labeled as one of these Earthlings.

You beckoned him down, mentally terrified, “Please can you just come down for a damn second.” Your jaw dropped as you hurriedly covered your mouth. Heeseung's jaw dropped when he appeared in front of you, stunned.

“Gasp, I'm hearing a term I'm sure they don't say in Heaven. Hmm, I suppose the Earth changes people.” He went closer to your ear, his warm arm bouncing on your skin as he giggled, his lips inches away from yours.

“I've already entered my phone number into your phone; you do understand what a phone is, right?” Doesn't matter,  I have to get somewhere, and you can locate me later. Okay, I'll see you later.” He swept up in the air and rushed over to the bridge as he vanished into the horizon, rushing out in a haste once more.

You sat back in the coffee chair, wiped your brow, and focused mentally and spiritually, pleading with the Lord for help and forgiveness. You had a feeling this mission was going to be a disaster.

Whining, you threw your hands in the air and sat face down on the table, groaning as you realized this trek. It's no surprise that these honors are well-deserved; it takes a lot of effort.

You cautiously lifted your head and faced the barista after hearing a soft tap on your table. She smiled at you as she set down a piece of paper. You scowled as you inspected the weird set of paper.

“What a jerk, he didn't just leave me to pay for both drinks.” With a shake of your head, you reached inside your bag and drew out a wallet. Your overseer informed you that many people like flaunting and spending their money, so she provided some for you just in case.

As you cleaned up, you began to mentally map out your route through town, mentally picturing the locations and navigating your way home. As you walked over to the cashier, you handed her some money and thanked her before heading out the door.

At the very least, you landed in a fantastic location. It was in the heart of South Korea, and the city was called Seoul, a wonderful metropolis to be sure. You were taught to master specific languages for specific tasks, so communicating wasn't a problem. Despite the fact that you were new in a strange place, you were determined to make the most of it. The first step was to return home and examine the situation.

How to manage Lee Heeseung. 

Arriving at your small abode was an adventure in itself; it didn't take long for you to connect your GPS and get going. It was actually fairly pleasant and provided a change of scenery to enjoy. It's not quite Heaven, but it's still lovely. When you finally arrive at your destination, you look up to see a little, charming apartment in front of you.

They really went all out for you, and it's very much in your style. You'd felt right at home as soon as you stepped inside, as it was more modern and sophisticated.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, but it felt good to have your own little place to do anything you wanted. You could get used to this, no wonder why humans never leave their house. Who would want to leave when you have everything here. Food, entertainment, and a BALCONY!!

As you finished exploring the apartment and basked in its magnificence, you laughed to yourself as you made your way to the couch, sinking into its coziness as sleep took over your mind and body.

*Crunch, thud, bang*

As you lurched forward, you flew up your wings in defense mode, trying to understand what you'd heard.

“Who's there? I have a weapon, and I'm not afraid to use it.”

When you hear a familiar giggle, you look up and see the attractive intruder. Walking over to you and snatching the pillow from your grasp he took your hand and pulled you over to the island where he had prepared some food.

As you took it all in, you smelt familiar scents and smiled, completely forgetting about it until you were reminded again.

“Wait, what are you doing in my apartment, and how did you get in?”

He began to remove some pots and pans from the stove while he placed some food on a platter, saying, "I have my methods."

“I'm not sure what you eat up there in Heaven, but I'm guessing it's all healthy and nutritious food.” You laughed and shook your hand in disbelief while shaking your head.

“I don’t think out of all places we would be eating so strictly. It's basically whatever you can get your hands on.. It's guaranteed to be better food than what you'll find in Hell.”

Pulling the dish away from him, you began to pick at the fries, popping one into your mouth and savoring the flavor, “not bad.”

He bowed in front of you, wiped the sweets from his brow, and returned to sit next to you, grabbing a dish and feeding himself some. As the night progressed, you told him the rundown for the next three months.

“So, despite the fact that you're definitely one of the worst jerks I've ever encountered. For this to function, we'll need to create certain ground rules.” Aiming a finger between you and him. “I'm not sure whether you've ever had to do anything for anyone else in your life, but it's all about serving people around here, and that's why I accepted this assignment. Even if you don't want to help yourself, I want to help you.”

As Heeseung shuffled around in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you, the atmosphere became tense.

“Harsh, but keep going.”

Smiling you continued as you tried to wrap your head around this complex creature.

“I understand that we are supposed to protect and guide you to do good, but it appears that we have progressed far beyond that, and we need to start at the source of your problem, which is most likely your heart or mind. What's going on in both?

As his words danced across your lips, he smirked and drew you closer to him.

“Now there's a secret.” 

Smirking as your face felt warm, you cocked your head to the side and touched his shoulder before getting up and setting your dish in the sink, cleaning up as piercing eyes stabbed your back.

“I understand what you're thinking, and I've got it all under control.”

He approached you and said, "If you say so," as he put his head against your ear.

2 months later 

Everything was certainly out of hand, and he was to blame. Your strategy not only failed, but it was only a matter of time until your overseer found out. And you didn’t want to end up like the last guy tossed from Heaven.

It wasn't all that bad, but who were you kidding, it was a disaster. It wasn't a major shift; rather, it was a series of modest changes. Things like accidentally cursing or hanging out with him at ungodly hours. You convinced yourself that everything was OK.

He drew you into your room and sat you down while hovering over you, gently caressing your body and kissing you.

You smiled and drew him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist and bringing him down on you, closing the distance between you.

Heeseung has been on a mission to damage your "innocent demeanor" for the past two weeks. He intended to show you that it was all a charade and that no one is actually perfect. Despite not knowing what he was going to do, you were up for the challenge. That core part of you didn't take long to succumb to his immoral impulses.

What was the problem as long as you were both happy?

“Heeseung,” you say as he draws you closer to him and unclasps your bra with his free hand. As you slowly rise to assist him, you toss the material to the ground and reach for his sweatpants.

“Someone a little needy, but we are not doing that today. Today is all about pampering my lovely angel. Is it all right?”

Nodding your head, you keep an eye on him as he goes between your legs, halting at the bottom as he eyes your breast and grasps softly as your body adjusts.

“Hurry up,” you grumble as you stare at his sinister grin. As you moan, he places gentle lips along your folds, leaning down to your core. As you twitch under his touch, his finger makes a fast dive between your folds, inciting dampness.

As you whine from the pressure, your eyes flutter shut as he switches his finger out with his tongue, softly licking up your surface.

“mm, close,” you exclaim, your lips wide open as he notices your clit, tongue flicking lustfully against it. As he presses harder on your sensitive region, he laughs as you break apart under his power.

“Oh God, right there.” 

“Please don't involve Him in this.” He hits a place as your high comes crashing down on you, chuckling at your reaction. Heeseung is holding you down and watching you quiver wildly as you release juice, which causes him to swallow it before wiping his mouth. As you fall onto his body, overwhelmed and still sensitive to the sensation, he pulls you up.

He lays your exhausted body next to his and wipes any excess arousal from his mouth before kissing your lips.

You both lay in a comfortable stillness for the remainder of the night, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you sign into his arms.

“Perhaps you're right; we're all just horny, messed-up creatures; I mean, even though what we're doing is completely wrong, it was fun to break the rules. My entire life has been focused on doing the right thing and being this upstanding angel. It's fun to deviate from the norm.” As Heeseung witnessed you erupt in rage, you became agitated.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, also I told you.” You both chuckled as you pushed him to the side before coming to a halt in the middle of your conversation, looking concerned at him.

“However, I leave tomorrow and I don't think I'll be ready to see you off, and this was not in my plan.”

“Shhh, I figured it out; just stick to my plan and we'll both come out on top.”

You sat closer to him, nodding your head and clasping your hand in his as you allowed sleep to take over your body.

As you may know, angels and humans have quite distinct punishments; some humans are never punished for their wrongdoings, whereas angels' actions are usually discovered one way or another.

And you were terrified that they would find out. The person who fell from the edge was not the same person who was returning back and everyone was going to know it. Just not right now, you had to maintain your composure as you approached your overseer.

As you were greeted with the overseer and some guards, you held Heeseung by his chains and whispered something into his ear.

“I see you were having a good time?” You shook your head and looked down, worried. You looked up at her with sad eyes.

“Yes, High Lord, I am aware of my error and what needs to be done in order to be purified once more. I accept complete responsibility for this assignment, but I crack him first, and we have all the secrets we need.”

As he observed you return to the opposite side with the overseer, Heeseung's gaze shifted up in fright. Fearing for his life, he flailed his wings in an attempt to flee.

“What the hell, Y/N, I thought we were on the same team.” How could you betray me in such a way?” You walked over to his trembling body and pushed him down so you were above him, laughing loudly. You patted his shoulder as you cackled.

“And they said angels could be trustworthy. I know what I'm worth, and it has nothing to do with you. Heseeung, please accept my apologies. Get him out of here.” The guards grabbed his chains and dragged him to a chamber across the room from you.

As she began to compliment you on your efforts, the supervisor wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“I'm proud of you, Y/N, even though you used some terrible techniques. I knew you'd be able to pull it off.”

You grinned joyously and thanked her for her faith in you as you looked up at her face. You cast another peek at Heeseung as she stepped forward, and he winked at you. Smirking before he disappeared into the room you chuckled at his behavior.

Everything was going swimmingly, and no one had a clue. I suppose taking over Heaven would be a simple task; if you can blow up the inside, everything will fall apart on its own.

"How could you hide this from all of us?" "Oh God, you underestimated me."

The Beauty of Sin.

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

➳ Navigate to the Maze

Your writing is so wonderful! Could I maybe request something comforting? I’m currently recovering from a surgery to repair my foot with bone anchors and I’ll be bed ridden for 6 weeks. Maybe something with Loki being very supportive and caring for the reader 24/7, moving into her room etc. and the team are just surprised at how helpful he’s being to her. 🤗.

A/N: I’m sorry if I posted this at a weird time, but I have the next chapter to my series Voiceless Love coming out and I wanted to give this fic some time to be seen before that got posted. It’s also a little short, but I felt like this was perfect as a short and sweet fic, instead of a 2k+ story, haha. Also, I know it isn’t 100% exactly what you wanted, but I get stuck with one idea and run with it, oops. I hope you are getting better with your foot. That stinks so much and I’ve been there with my own ankle injuries. If you have any requests for some fics while you recover, send them my way! I always need some inspo and if I can give you some entertainment during your recovery, that would be great. Now, read this, get some sleep, and drink some water. I hope you heal nicely <3

Lucky

Loki x reader

Word count: 1533

Warnings: Pure fluff, just fluff, fluffiness, maybe a bit of sexualizing Loki (I couldn’t help myself)

Seeing your friends carrying big heavy boxes for you swells your heart. It’s also hilarious to see Thor actually struggling to carry something. Tony finds it amusing too given that he’s not doing any of the work but it’s sipping mimosas next to you. Thor grumbles about getting all the heavy boxes, but you also know Sam and Bucky purposely avoid the big ones.

If someone were to tell you ten years ago that you’d be saved from getting tortured by Hydra and become an Avenger, you’d tell them they’re delusional, but this is your life. Even after years of torture and pain, you considered yourself lucky. You could have been the new Soldat, ruined over and over again to be a war machine, but now you’re a trained assassin like Bucky and Nat with a broken leg.

You lean yourself against a wall in your room with your crutches beside you (along with Tony, of course, that lazy bum). Steve, Bucky, and Thor are carrying in boxes while Sam, Nat, and Peter help unpack some things. Today is the day you officially move into the tower with the rest of your teammates and due to your current disability, the other avengers offered to help you. Another reason why you consider yourself lucky.

Peter is by far the most adorable on the team. He’s fully unpacking for you, even arranging the frames on your shelves and the organizers on your desk. He at point made your bed when Steve brought in your blankets and sheets. Bucky has been super sweet, too, giving you funny looks every time he passes by and asking where the best spot for the box he is carrying to go.

But the one “avenger” you didn’t expect to be as helpful as he is, is Loki. The others told him to move out of the way, not wanting his condescending attitude to ruin the fun day, but Loki started to carry boxes in as well. The first time, the avengers were stunned by him, but then they were gracious because he used his magic to transport them, making the job go by quicker. Loki just stands at the bottom of the truck outside and wipes his hand over each cardboard box, sending it to your room.

You really are lucky.

-

Two days pass by and you decide to ignore your laziness and finally unpack the rest of your boxes. You attempt to push some photo boxes on the top of your shelves, but you find yourself stretching so hard to reach the top. Your foot injury really is stupid and you just want to be able to normal walk, or jump, or even go on your tip toes.

Then you hear a sly chuckle coming from behind you. You let out a frustrated sign knowing exactly who it is.

“Loki, if you’re going to stand there and laugh at me, could you least help me and laugh at me?”

“Of course, darling.” He jokes.

He comes up behind you and takes the box from your struggling fingertips and carefully paces it on top of the shelf.

“Is there anything else you helpless being needs help with?”

“I could use help with hanging my window curtains.”

You point to the box in the corner with your large sheer curtains folded in them. He chuckles and goes over the box, carefully picking them up and hanging them on the frame. You can’t help but notice his figure as he hangs them. He is a marvelous being and who are you to deny your eyes of such a sight?

The sight in front of you proved that you are lucky

-

Tony gathers the group for a game night and it results in everyone becoming drunk and children. At some point, it becomes a truth or drink game night and everyone has their poison. You have your legs laid over Loki’s lap, who was really hard to convince to join the game, and a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in your hand, only because Tony didn’t have anything else. Loki’s slowly running his fingers over your legs, but higher than your cast.

“Okay, Steve,” Natasha coos, “your turn. Have you ever done drugs?”

“I did marijuana in high school once.”

The whole team gasps and whistles at his answer.

“Captain ain’t so wholesome, now, is he?” Sam cackles.

“I remember that night,” Bucky laughs, “You were so high.”

Steve chuckles and nods his head before looking to see you cuddled up next to Loki and gets a wicked idea.

“Loki, you’ve been quiet. Your turn.”

“Please no, I’m beyond your little games.”

“Aw come on, brother! One question won’t hurt you,” Thor laughs.

“Who in this room would ever kiss?”

Tony whistles and takes a sip of his drink as everyone else laughs. You can feel the ice giant get slightly warm out of embarrassment. His face is flushed with a rose pink color as you get nervous, lightly chuckling to himself.

“I uh…”

“Answer it. Answer it. Answer it.” Sam chants.

Everyone chuckles at the clear uncomfortableness of the god, not seeing him like this often.

“Y/N.” He whispers, almost too quiet for you to even hear.

“Louder, brother. I couldn’t hear you,” Thor says innocently.

“Y/N.”

You smile up at Loki in shock. He won’t look down to meet your eyes but stares straight out the window past Tony. The entire team cheers and chuckles.

“Oh, we’re never letting that one down.”

“How lucky am I?” You laugh.

-

You attempt to cook yourself some lunch but your stupid cast is getting in the way of moving around. It’s getting tiring to pick up your crutches every time you need a tool two feet away from you. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you hit the edge of the counter with the spatula in your hand.

“What is wrong, dearest?”

You turn your head to see Loki standing behind you with a concerned look on his face, this time not here to make fun of you.

“I’m tired of my stupid foot getting in the way of doing normal activities.”

“Darling, sit down. I’ll make lunch for you.”

“Loki, you really-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

Loki picks you up and sets you down on the couch while also handing you the remote. He goes to the kitchen and attempts to resume your lunch.

“Sweetest, what are you cooking?”

You laugh really hard at his confusion.

“Fajitas.”

“What are those?”

“See Loki, it’s fine! You really don’t have to.”

“And I’m not going to. I’ll make Stark do it.”

Loki orders JARVIS to get Tony and finish making lunch for you. You laugh and shake your head at Loki as he sits down beside you on the couch. He starts to run his fingers through your hair but keeps getting caught in the tangles.

“Why is your hair like this?”

“It’s hard to do anything while standing up. I can barely brush my teeth without falling over.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll do that for you, too.”

“Loki, I swear if you-”

“No point in arguing. I’m going to assist you.”

You rolls your eyes at the cocky god as he smiles at you. Nuzzling your head into his neck, Loki holds you tightly in an embrace. Tony comes in to see you two cuddling and shakes his head.

“You are so lucky we love you.”

-

You wake up the next day to see Loki sleeping beside you on your bed. You try to remember anything that happened last night, but you were so tired, nothing comes to mind. If you didn’t have a broken foot, you would be concerned about waking up next to a god, but you also know he wouldn’t have done anything with your injury. He’s too kind (much to some disbelief).

“Good morning, darling.”

Loki leans over to you and kisses you on the forehead. He wasn’t as asleep as you thought he was, but you’re not complaining. Waking up beside this adonis isn’t the worst way to spend a morning.

“Good morning.”

“I don’t care what you say,” Loki smiles, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, “you’re staying in bed and I’m waiting on you.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you.”

“I’m glad someone learned something last night.”

“Actually, I don’t remember a lot from last night. I was tired.”

“We bickered about me waiting on you, hand and foot.”

“Hmm, that sounds about right.”

“So, today I’m treating you like a proper princess.”

“Does that mean we’re together?”

Loki looks at you confused, but his face lights up when he realizes what you’re implying.

“I suppose so. In that case, my princess, I will wait on you.”

You watched as the god all day served you lunch and dinner. He brushed your hair and teeth. Helped you change clothes. Played your music to cheer you up. Even carried you to the bathroom when you had to go.

Thinking about all the things your friends have done for you and all of the things that Loki, your prince, has done, all you can say is how lucky you are.

Ricochet

"Like Moths to the Flame"

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x F!OC (Tatum Erikson)

Rating: Teen

Series Music inspo: Ricochet by Starset (more of an acoustic fan? Check it here.)

Chapter Music Inspo: (see above)

Summary: Almost two decades ago, he gave love a chance--and she betrayed him. Now after all of this time, Dr. Ethan Ramsey and Dr. Tatum Erikson realize that their past feelings might not exactly be ancient history--especially now that they are forced to work together.

Category: Angst; sprinkles of fluff; mini series

Warning/Trope: language; suggested child abuse and sexual promiscuity

Word Count: 4783 (+/-)

A/N: this is a new mini-series specifically created for the @openheartfanfics Trope Challenge, and this chapter is my submission for Week 1: And there's some good ol' Pining...

Dr. Tatum Erikson was born a few weeks ago during a Drunken Drabbles sesh (click here if you'd like to read that fic), and since then, she has become a dear character to me that I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for taking the time, and I hope you enjoy the story!

Characters and some plot belong to Pixelberry!

------

The warm blinding flare of the September sun boldly radiates through the spider-cracked windows. Each fracture of the glass refracts an explosion of prismatic colors, casting a kaleidoscope of rainbows across the heavily-worn linoleum flooring. A thick haze of cigarette smoke billows slowly in the afternoon beams while broken liquor bottles sparkle like precious gems amongst the chaos of filth and trash.

But, six-year-old Tatum is a million miles away from the dilapidated double-wide. Together with her imagination and her favorite doll, Miss Jingletoes, a stuffed fabric cut-out her Gammie made for her when her parents couldn't afford a Cabbage Patch baby, Tatum is whisked away to an opulent palace far away with her true love: a tall, handsome man with piercing blue eyes and thick dark hair, none other than Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid. Here, her tangled, unkempt blonde hair is beautifully braided with a crown, and her stained, hand-me-down clothes have transformed into a shimmering ballgown for endless dancing in the living room.

"Can you and Lady Jingletoes meet me for tea?" Tatum mimics a deep, masculine voice with a British accent.

"Oh, Prince Eric," she responds in a proper-sounding tone. "We would be delighted!" She offers her hand in the air, pretending it is being kissed. Continuing to giggle, Tatum grabs her doll and dances carelessly in circles around the room.

But, suddenly, a foam dart with a suction-cup tip hits her in the arm. "Hey!" Tatum cries out with annoyance, only to be hit once more--but this time, close to her face. "Trevor! I'm trying to play!" She yelps, her hands on her hips.

Tatum's eleven-year-old brother Trevor jumps out from behind the couch with his neon green Nerf gun in hand. He approaches his little sister thoughtfully. "Are you hurt?"

"Well, no."

"Good." With a mischievous grin and his tongue hanging out the corner of his mouth, he aims and fires his toy gun once more, hitting Tatum in the face.

"Trevor!" She shrieks, grabbing a throw pillow. She chunks it at his head as he continues to cackle, dodging her efforts.

"You've got to aim better than that, Tater Tot--" he shoots her again.

"You are such a butthead!" She chunks another pillow at her older brother. Catching the pillow perfectly, he charges at his little sister, swatting her with the pillow as she begins to giggle wildly. “You’re going to get us both in trouble if you keep throwing this thing and it breaks something!”

Tatum falls to the floor, laughing with her brother. He tosses the pillow to the side. He quickly collides on the ground with his sister, playfully wrestling with her and tickling her feet. Their laughter fills the room--that is, until they both suddenly freeze, staring at each other in terror.

The rumble from the exhaust of their father’s rusty pick-up rattles the trailer, the shrill of his brakes sending chills up Tatum and Trevors’ spines. Tatum tucks her body into a ball, clamping her hands over her ears, her skin littered with goosebumps. With the slamming of the heavy metal door, the kids can hear the slew of curses under their dad’s breath, which means only one thing: he's been drinking. Again.

"C'mon," whispers Trevor, pulling Tatum to a stand. He gives her an encouraging crooked smile. “It’s gonna be okay.”

The back door swings open, the doorknob hitting against the metal-siding. Trevor quickly guides his sister around the corner to hide. He steadies her behind him, holding his finger up to his mouth while he peeks around the corner at their dad.

"Kids?" The older man bellows. "Trevor? Tatum? Where the hell are y'all?" His feet are clumsy and heavy, and his gait unsteady.

Tatum clings to her brother's arm, closing her eyes as she hears her father tripping over furniture, drinking glasses crashing to the ground, kicking through towers of beer cans. Trevor rolls his eyes upwards before looking back at the disaster that was their dad.

Trevor and Tatum love their father the best they knew how to as children; afterall, that was their daddy. He taught Trevor how to change the oil on the Ford; he showed Tatum how to tie her shoes. But, everything changed when he injured his back working downtown at the chemical plant. Unable to work, he quickly turned from someone they admired into someone they feared.

“Get your asses out here now!”

Tatum whimpers, looking at her brother for direction. “What do we do?”

Trevor looks back at their father; he then takes Tatum’s hand, and together, they scurry to Trevor’s room. “Get down,” he instructs. He locks the door, but for backup, he takes a chair, and wedges it underneath the doorknob.

The abrupt stomping of feet startles the children as their father begins to bang on Trevor’s bedroom door. “Open this door!” He angrily twists on the handle. “Open this goddamn door right now!”

Trevor grabs a blanket from his bed; taking his sister’s hand, they hide in their usual spot: the closet. Trevor sits himself down first against the wall; he pulls Tatum close to his side, covering them both up with the woven throw. Turning on a flashlight, he shuts the door.

“I’m scared, Trevor,” Tatum whimpers, pinching her eyes closed, nuzzling her head into her brother’s shoulder as the abrasive poundings become louder and louder.

“Tater Tot, look at me.” The little girl flashes a terrified glance at her big brother, gripping tightly to his shirt. “He’s not gonna get you this time, okay? He’s never gonna hurt you again. You're safe now--”

“When’s Mommy coming home?” Her words hopelessly quiver.

Trevor tightens his embrace around his little sister, leaning his head back against the wall.. “I--I don’t know--”

“Is Mommy ever coming home?”

Trevor sighs, storm clouds gathering in his own eyes. He shakes his head. “Don’t know, Tate--” Tatum’s tiny body grows limp against her brother, sobbing into his shirt as they quietly listen to the wails of their belligerent father.

“But, hey, you know what I do know?” Trevor nudges Tatum with his shoulder to sit up, more upbeat. “I know that I will always stand up for you and protect you. And--and whenever you get scared, just come get me.”

Tatum’s breath hitches in her chest as she wipes her face with her arm. “You promise?”

Trevor forces a grin, being brave for his sister. “Of course. I’m your big brother. You know what that means?” Tatum quiets down, listening intently. “It means that no matter what, I will always be here for you, Tatum.”

Tatum.

“Tatum!”

Dr. Tatum Erikson startles from her memories. “What?” She inadvertently sasses, holding a fist to her heart as she turns quickly to the voice calling her name.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Erikson, ma’am, but, um, they’re prepping the patient in the OR.”

With a blush crawling across her face, Tatum curtly nods. “Thank you. I’ll be right there.” As soon as the locker room door closes, Tatum relaxes her arm away from her chest. Unfolding her grip, a silver chain fumbles between fingers, revealing a pair of military dog tags resting in her palm. She smiles warmly as she brushes her thumb over the etching: Erikson, Trevor M.

It’s been well-over thirty years since that day in the closet, but Tatum remembers that day so vividly, she can almost touch it, almost taste it. Most might see it as a tragic memory; her $300-an-hour therapist relates it to her fear of intimacy. But for Tatum, it was a day she will always treasure. It was the first time someone actually saw her, the first time she was put first. It was the first time someone actually believed she deserved better than the hand she was dealt.

But, then she met him, and the days of needing her older brother to protect her vanished. If only Trevor had been there to save Tatum from herself...

It was Tatum’s third month establishing a new life in Boston, and only her second week as the Chief of Obstetrics and Gynecology at Edenbrook Hospital. Coming back to the east coast proved lonely and difficult, not just because the city was home to some of her most haunting demons. But, she had no one, no family, no friends. And worse, he's here.

Even worse: he's her boss.

God, and does he think that's why she's here? Surely he wouldn't make that assumption. Afterall, 'Ethan and Tatum': that was such a long time ago, med school-long time ago. And he ended it--not that she blames him-- but it's over. They were a moment in time, a split second, actually. A distant memory, ancient news. She barely remembers them ever being together.

Except she saw him. Once. And it was like a lightning bolt straight to her heart, electrifying her nerves. And she's been avoiding him ever since.

Damnit. He was still Ethan, her Ethan. Sure, he was more mature with a few silver highlights, a few extra pounds, and several deep expression lines, framing his face, but it's him. Her supporter. Her protector. Her safe haven.

And a few moments is all it took--

No. She can't fall into that trap again--she won't. He left her when she needed him the most; she hadn't forgotten that. That was the real Ethan Ramsey, not some fairytale dream.

Tatum looks down at the metal tags in her hand one last time. Allowing her nail to gently rumble over the embossed lettering, she naturally swells with pride. The greatest man, the most selfless and self-sacrificial man she has ever known was of her same flesh and blood. He taught her so much about life, about love, and about herself.

Trevor joined the army straight out of high school. His servant’s heart sent him overseas where he was able to lead, fight, and protect the innocent, the hopeless and the broken. He served as a big brother to other soldiers and civilians alike, reassuring people that life can and will be better. He saved thousands upon thousands of people’s lives over the course of his life, the first being that terrified girl in the closet that day so long ago.

A love with no walls. A love with no judgments. A love that was truly unconditional.

A love that was purely Trevor Erikson.

Not Ethan Ramsey.

...no matter what, I will always be here for you. The words swirl through her head as she hangs up the tags in her locker.

“Always.”

-------

The abrupt clap of thunder rattles the opulent floor-length window in his bedroom. Laying stoically on his side, he watches silently as the dark gray sky ignites for a split second before falling back into the darkness of the early morning. He’s been watching this light show for the past hour, his brain refusing to relax. His mind seems to never shut off completely ever since he accepted the position of Chief of Medicine at Edenbrook; recently, however, rather than worrying about matters at the hospital, he’s preoccupied against his will about matters of the heart. Ethan Ramsey is consumed with thoughts of her.

He could almost kill Naveen for hiring her! The old man could have at the very least warned Ethan about her before turning over the reins. Granted, his former mentor was unaware of his past with Dr. Erikson, but now that she officially works directly underneath him, Ethan internally battles with himself daily between avoiding her completely, and his secret hope of crossing her path.

Of course, the first time--and only time--he runs into her forces him to assist her with a surgery! A fucking post-mortem cesarean, at that! One of which he disagreed with in the first place! But, telling Tatum ‘no’ was like disagreeing with nature. No one can stop the winds of a hurricane or the heat from the sun. Tatum Erikson was a force, one that changed Ethan’s life forever.

Ethan Ramsey didn’t believe in love. Well, not in the way Hollywood would have people see it. Love is a very real thing, but rather than believing in the magic of love with floating hearts everywhere, Ethan fully believes there is an explanation of love through science. He believed in the sudden rush of chemicals, like estrogen, oxytocin, dopamine and serotonin, that heighten the senses, increasing sexual appetite. Overtime, electrical pathways in the brain form an understanding that this person that keeps pumping the body with these mood-elevating hormones needs to stay. They call it attachment, but it’s literally an addiction. It’s no different than a drug-user seeking a high, but Hallmark banks on it. Society celebrates the chemical dependence in the form of weddings and anniversaries. Congratulations! You haven’t been sober in ten years! Love wouldn’t control Ethan’s destiny; only he could do that.

But, then, she walked into his life.

“Shit, can you believe this?” Ethan’s new friend and colleague Tobias Carrick takes a seat next to him in the stadium-style layout of the auditorium. They had met the previous week during Johns Hopkins Welcome Week festivities.

Pushing up his glasses, Ethan looks at his new comrade, aloof to what he’s referring to with his question.

“Over two hundred new medical students, half of which are female, and not one--not a single one-- is fuckable.”

Twenty-two-year-old Ethan raises an eyebrow, coyly grinning to feign agreement before returning to reading the clinical outline and syllabus. He enjoyed sex just like the next guy, but Ethan is overpowered by another lust: success. He wanted to be the best in his field, and that started now in medical school by setting a precedent over the other students. He couldn’t afford to be distracted now.

“Yowza!” Tobias chuckles under his breath.

Trying to ignore his sex-driven friend, Ethan continues to read. He can feel Tobias’s eager stare, tracking someone across the room, but Ethan refuses to entertain his behavior by paying it attention.

“Hellooooo, nurse,” he jeers, licking his lips as he wiggles his eyebrows. “Oooo, and a tramp stamp to boot? Now we’re talking.”

Ethan scoffs, rolling his eyes at Tobias. But, suddenly, the sway and brilliance of her radiant blonde hair caught Ethan’s eye. His attention fumbles down her shapely body. Her white wife-beater was snug around her curves, revealing the straps of her black lacy bra. Her low-rise jeans tempted fate of over-exposure, a studded belt around her hips her only insurance.

She takes a seat directly in front of the gawkers. Pulling her long tresses into a ponytail, a soft, sweet fragrance of red plum and freesia teases Ethan’s senses. With her hair out of the way, Ethan takes notice of the shimmer of tiny platinum wisps resting perfectly on her soft, beachy-bronze skin.

“You think she’s in the right place?” whispers a smirking Tobias, cupping his hand.

“Excuse me,” she suddenly turns around, eyeing the two young men, catching them by surprise. She holds up the collection of papers on her desk, and smiles warmly. “Have they said anything about this yet?”

Staring into her captivating blues, entranced by her watermelon-flavored pink lips, Ethan and Tobias freeze. Without saying a word, they both robotically shake their heads no.

“Oh,” her face falls from their odd, less-than-friendly behavior. “Okay. Thanks!” She smiles curtly before turning back around in her seat.

“Bro, we gotta hit that!” silently cheers Tobias.

And for the first time that day, Ethan agreed with him.

Fuck. Not this game again. Rolling back onto his back, Ethan stares blankly at the vaulted ceiling. With a groan, he presses the heels of his hands into his exhausted eyes. Stop thinking about her, you idiot. He hadn’t forgotten what she did to him, how badly she hurt him, how devastated he was when she betrayed him. He could barely eat; he could barely sleep. He lost himself in her, and when she was gone, when she chose to throw their relationship away for a one night stand, he was just lost. Just like a drug, she had ruined him.

But just like a drug, he’s now had another taste. And he craves more.

4:52 AM. What’s the point of trying to sleep now? His alarm is about to go off in eight minutes. Ethan goes ahead and pulls on his gym clothes, packing his suit and tie in a hanging garment bag, his white coat already in his office. After tying up his Brooks, he pats his knee, whistling with his teeth.

A tiny jingle sounds in the corner of the room as a medium-size white dog with giant brown spots and floppy brown ears stretches from his bed before making his way over to his owner. “How’s my Jenner, boy?” Ethan lovingly runs his hands over the fluffy mutt’s face, Jenner’s tail wagging furiously. Ethan nuzzles his nose into the sweet, furry face, Jenner quickly stealing a wet kiss from his master.

Ethan sighs as he continues to pet his sweet companion. “It’s raining boy.” Jenner offers a soft yelp as he trots to the door. “No, I said it’s raining--” Jenner jumps up on Ethan’s knee, licking his cheek. “Damnit, Jenner!” he chuckles, pushing the dog off of him. Ethan exhales deeply, running his fingers down his tired face. “Will you at least do your business under the dog park’s porte cochére?” The four-legged friend barks eagerly as he is leashed and guided out the front door.

Ethan always enjoys getting out with Jenner--preferably when it’s not raining. But the venture will be beneficial for both of them. Jenner, of course, needs the exercise. But, for Ethan, the fresh air is always a nice reset button, preparing him for a brand new day--especially with the past trying to call him so eagerly lately.

Suddenly, Ethan feels the pocket of his sweat pants vibrating. Pulling out his phone, he grimaces. He stares at the name on the screen for a long time before deciding to answer.

“Rookie? Are you okay?”

-------

“Thank you, everyone,” Tatum pulls off her dirty OR gown and gloves, tossing them in a waste receptacle.

“Pressure dressing, ma’am?”

“Um, you’ve got Tefla?” The nurse nods, quickly grabbing the supplies. “I think it just needs some pressure, but if that right side keeps oozing, page me.” Both women nod in agreement before Tatum turns to make her way around the operating table to talk face-to-face with her patient.

“He’s absolutely beautiful, Dominique!” She cheerfully glances over to the baby warmer before continuing. “I’ll be making my rounds later this morning. I’ll check on you then.”

The patient’s husband quickly grabs Tatum’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “Dr. Erikson, thank you--thank you so much!”

Giving an endearing squeeze to his shoulder with an appreciative nod, the physician leaves the OR suite, returning to the labor & delivery floor. Checking out the main labor board, Tatum is greeted by the dayshift charge nurse.

“I haven’t had the opportunity to meet the new chief!” she smiles brightly. “Welcome aboard, Dr.--”

“Erikson,” Tatum cordially returns the smile, offering her hand.

“Erikson,” curiously echoes the nurse. “I thought they told me a different name--” she shrugs her shoulders before taking Tatum’s hand. “--well, whatever. I’m Rhonda. It’s so nice to meet you finally, Dr. Erikson.”

“Likewise,” Tatum cordially nods as she looks at her watch. “God, is it already shift change?”

“Not yet,” the seasoned nurse replies. “I just like to get here early. You know? Prepare for the jungle.”

Tatum chuckles, nodding her head. “I understand that,” she agrees, taking off her scrub cap, allowing her scalp to breathe as she fluffs out her bun. “Well, the 7:15 is my case. Since I have some time, I’m going to sneak downstairs.” Rhonda nods as Tatum slowly saunters away. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Donut?”

“Ahhh, a doctor we don’t have to train,” Rhonda winks. Both women laugh understandingly as Tatum makes breakfast plans for the oncoming staff before quickly heading to the cafeteria.

Tatum is shocked as she enters the massive, open-concept cafeteria. She wasn’t used to having so many options, so many fresh dishes that could be cooked up instantly determined by which station you choose. But, keeping with routine, she heads to an omelet making station.

“Next.”

“Hi, um, good morning,” Tatum greets the short, stalky cook, “I guess I’d like an omelet--”

“Ma’am, this is the omelet line--”

“Right, of course,” she offers a toothy smile, shocked at the sarcasm. “Can I get just egg whites--” The cook begins to groan, rolling her eyes. “--on second thought, regular eggs are just fine!” Tatum feels her cheeks begin to flush. What was this lady’s problem? Don’t people eat egg white omelets in Boston?

“Ma’am, there’s a line gathering behind you--”

Tatum looks behind her, seeing three workers in scrubs waiting behind her. “Right--” she titters, nervously pushing hair strands behind her ears. “I’d like all the vegetables. The peppers, the onions, the mushrooms--”

“Any condiments?”

“Can you mix together sour cream--”

“--guacamole, and salsa on the side,” echoes a familiar baritone voice, causing Tatum to quickly turn around to discover Ethan towering over her shoulder.

“Ethan--” she clears her throat, “I mean, Dr. Ramsey.”

“Morning, Dr. Erikson,” he coolly responds, offering a charming smile before turning his attention to the cook. “I surely hope our new chief of OB isn’t giving you a hard time, Clarence.”

“Not at all,” the cook flirtatiously giggles, “--Dr. Ramsey,” she singsongs, winking at Ethan.

“Dr. Erikson is a creature of habit,” he smirks, looking down at the petite physician. “I can’t believe you are still stirring together guac, sour cream and salsa like a four-year-old--”

“Hey! It’s delicious. Not everything has to change when you grow up--”

“--thank goodness, a lot does change,” he mutters under his breath, averting his eyes from his ex.

Tatum’s shoulders slump; she can feel the warmth burning across her chest and up her neck. She wishes he would just go away, just leave her alone if he’s going to be mean. This was the second time she has seen him in years, and it’s the second time he took a cheap shot at her. Is this their relationship now? Him rubbing her nose in her mistakes?

To her relief, Ethan walks ahead of her to the cashier. Side-eying him, she notices he’s pointing to her food that is currently cooking on the grill; next he’s swiping his credit card.

“Uh--excuse me, um--” Tatum collects her food from the cook, “Thank you, ma’am,” she quickly power walks to Ethan’s side, verifying that he has nothing in his hands. “Did you just buy my breakfast?” Ethan doesn’t acknowledge her. He puts his card back into his wallet, avoiding her gaze. Nodding to the cashier, he walks away.

“Hey!” Tatum hollers out. Ethan stops in his tracks, turning back towards her. She scoffs, piercing into his eyes. “What was that--?”

“Are you eating down here?” Ethan interrupts.

Tatum sardonically chuckles. “Excuse me?”

“Are you eating down here?

Tatum glares at Ethan, trying to read his expression. What kind of game was he playing? “Yes,” she swallows thickly, trying to remain cordial, but she can’t help but remain suspicious. “I’m eating down here. Alone.” She fakes a smile, then pushes past Ethan, rolling her eyes.

Tatum finds a quiet place to herself in a corner, away from the breakfast crowd. She pulls out her pager and her phone, ensuring that she is able to hear them in the midst of the cafeteria commotion. She glances around the room, ensuring Ethan was gone as she tucks a napkin into her lap.

She sighs. That could’ve gone better.

She opens up the styrofoam container that’s holding her omelet. She takes a quick sniff, enjoying the delicious aroma, anticipating the amazing flavors--and that’s when she realizes it: she forgot a fork. She laughs to herself, shaking her head.

“Forget something?” The deep voice startles her again from behind her back.

“Ethan, I--” Turning towards him, Tatum starts to speak, but is interrupted with the sound of crinkling plastic. The tall physician slowly holds up a package of black utensils. Her eyes widen as she stares at the fork and knife, her attention crawling up his arm and falling into his crystal gaze. Suddenly feeling awkward, she looks back down at his kind gesture. Her heart revs wildly in her chest; her breathing labors, becoming more difficult. She looks back at his face, only this time, she accidentally glances at his lips before meeting his eyes again.

She can feel her cheeks warm--and she curses herself because she knows he notices. Tatum chews on her bottom lip as memories begin to explode like fireworks into her vision. It’s not déja vu. It was--it was something else.

“I see four of you--there should be one more student--”

“I’m here!” Tatum makes a mad dash to the group of her med school colleagues and her college advisor, struggling to close her wet umbrella. “I am so sorry--the roads were closed due to flooding and--”

“Erikson, nice of you to join us.” The advisor smiles at Tatum, but quickly frowns. “Let’s not make this a habit. Time equals lives. Remember that.” She huffs. “Welcome to the Clinical Foundations of Medicine. Follow me.”

As the other students follow suit, Tatum quickly changes her socks, sinking her feet into a dry pair of Danskos. She starts digging in her backpack, looking for her supplies when a handsome voice interrupts her frenzy.

"Do you need a pen?"

Tatum frantically slips on her scrub top, smoothing out her rain-drenched hair before stuffing her pockets with medical cheat sheets and pharmacology references. She finally looks up at her classmate peering down at her, his crystal eyes a stark contrast from his dark, wavy hair.

"I'm sorry--what?"

"Oh, um--" he nervously chuckles, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. His stare fixates on the multicolored pen in his hand. "You just, I don't know, look like you're having a rough morning, y'know? Rain and all--wait! Not that you look rough. I just…"

"I'm sure I'm a sight, that's for sure," Tatum mumbles under her breath as she continues to dry off her neck and face with paper towels. She realizes she's still being watched. "Um, did you need something there, cowboy?"

"Oh, yeah--I mean, no." Tatum raises an eyebrow along with a corner of her mouth. "I was just making sure you didn't need a pen--"

"Are you seriously doing that?" Tatum stands up tall, piling her blonde hair in a bun on her head.

"Doing what?" He looks stunned, almost offended.

"You know?" She locks up her bag in her locker before affixing her badge to her lapel. "Offering me a pen as an excuse to talk to me?" Tatum winks, quickly walking away to join the rest of their group in the skills lab. But, without warning, he catches up from behind her.

"It worked, didn't it?" He whispers, his words baited with chuckles.

"Huh?"

"We're talking now, aren't we?" He smirks, holding out the pen.

She sighs, raising an eyebrow. "Touché," she stifles a smile, taking the pen before holding out her hand. "I'm Tatum Erikson."

"Ethan. Ethan Ramsey."

“Are these utensils not good enough for you?” He jokes.

His quiet laugh pulls Tatum from the memory, her earliest memory of Ethan Ramsey. She quickly shakes the stars from her eyes, offering a sarcastic titter. “It’s--” she clears her throat, “it’s fine.” She grins appreciatively. “Thank you--” Ethan quickly slides into the seat across from her. “Um--what are you doing?”

“Sitting down. What are you--?”

“I told you I was eating alone,” she snaps.

“You are eating alone,” he raises an eyebrow, offering a crooked smile. “I just wanted to sit here. Alone.”

“Did you seriously just do that?” Tatum takes a bite of her meal.

“Do what?” Though his tone is dry, Tatum knows Ethan--and he’s being difficult out of pleasure.

“You know?” She swallows her food. “Offering me utensils as an excuse to have breakfast with me--”

An instant gleeful smile appears on Ethan’s stubbled face, but he quickly hides it with his hand. “It worked, didn’t it?” Ethan pulls out his own fork, stealing a bite from Tatum’s omelet.

“Hey!”

“What? If I want to have breakfast with you, that means I have to eat too, right?” Tatum drops her fork into the container, crossing her arms as she playfully glares at Ethan. He chuckles to himself as he takes another bite. “It work, didn’t it?”

Tatum sighs heavily, her eyes never leaving Ethan’s gaze. She grabs her fork, and cuts out another chunk of egg to eat.

“Touché.”

------

Tag List (Please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @irisofpurple @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @lem-20 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @openheartfanfics @sarcastic01lily @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @taniasethi @thefrenchiemama

MAGIC SHOP | JJK (09)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Where did you stand after this? What choices did you have?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader (side pairing: Taehyung x Yoongi)

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining, slice of life au.

Warnings: Building collapse, resulting to death and injuries. Homophobia, cursing, and drinking alcohol on a plane, physical abuse (Sin-ae slapped OC)

Note: Texts like this = lyrics from this chapter’s OST which is It’s You by Henry

Word Count: 3.6k

Series: CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 10

When Jungkook claimed that 'the whole family needs you,' what he really meant was that the Kims needed you to convince Taehyung to go back to Seoul.

"No. I'd rather die than go back there." Your brother's face was scarlet, obviously fuming.

You sighed. Defeat was already knocking on your door, telling you to give it up. Taehyung was stubborn, no one could make him do something he proclaimed he hated.

"B-But..." You couldn't give up, so desperately, you looked at him and said "our family needs us—"

"Our family needs us?" He cut you off, voice laced with so much fury it made you flinch.

You hadn't seen him this enraged. Regret washed over you. Perhaps you should've waited for the sun to come up first before dropping the bad news to him. Taehyung woke up with a sour mood since you banged on your bedroom door, forcing him to come out and talk to you.

He had a frown on his face when he opened the door, eyes squinting, he asked you what you could possibly want in the middle of the night.

You told him your concern at once, not minding that Jimin was awake now, calling your name softly like he wasn't sure what was happening or why you're suddenly disturbing everyone's sleep.

Yoongi was awake too. He stood behind Taehyung as he scratched the back of his head, frowning at you.

You ruined their sleep while Jungkook ruined your peace.

He told you that your father and Soojin got into an accident. Apparently, the building which was being constructed by Castle Architectural Firm collapsed. Some construction workers, your father, and Soojin were injured.

Admittedly, you didn't know all the details because your mind had gone haywire the second you heard Jungkook associated your family's names with the word accident.

You could say though that between you and Taehyung, the latter was calmer. When you told him the same thing Jungkook had said to you, all your brother asked was this: "they're...still alive, right?"

You nodded your head, lips pressing into a grim line when he shrugged.

Nonchalantly.

Taehyung shrugged nonchalantly.

"Good. I'll just send them a text message later." He attempted to shut the door.

"Wait!" You stopped him, saying that you two needed to plan your trip back home.

It's his turn to smack his lips together, as if he found your statement ridiculous.

Taehyung told you he would never go back to Seoul. You still insisted on going though, prompting him to say things both of you knew he's gonna regret.

"Why are you forcing me to go back to that shithole?" He snapped at you. "Did you forget what I've been through because of him?"

You could see it in his eyes. He wanted to scream everything—he lost everything because of Taemin.

"B-But..." You were too frightened to think of a proper explanation so you just repeated what you said a few breaths ago, "they need us..." Your voice was actually low, like you weren't sure if what you said was valid.

Taehyung proved that it was bull by cackling. His tongue was prodding at the insides of his mouth.

"Bull fucking shit." You took a step back upon hearing his snarl. Taehyung was glaring daggers at you.

"Taehyung-ah..." Yoongi interrupted before his boyfriend could hurt you with his words. It was to no avail. Your brother didn't stop sputtering things. He was directing his frustration to you.

"What? I'm right, Yoongi." He also glared at his hyung before casting his gaze back at you. "We chose to leave but they pushed us to do it. Our father can't accept me. My mother barely tolerated me. Seokjin and Namjoon-hyung are the only ones who defended me, but where are they now? They stopped talking to me too—" He sounded bitter.

You couldn't blame him. None of them reached out to talk to you and your brother. It had been almost two years since you contacted them. They didn't spare you even a simple greeting no matter how many holidays had passed, no matter how long your messages were.

The Kims never replied.

"Consider leaving Seoul as a sign of you turning your back on us." This was what Taemin said to Taehyung.

And to you?

Nothing.

They never cared about you. As a matter of fact, you felt like you had done them a favor when you left. Even Soojin didn't bother to stop you. She only said you're old enough to decide for yourself, that she got a lot on her plate right now and that she didn't have time for your drama or whatever you're going through.

Taehyung said you were stupid. Why did you keep insisting yourself to them? Wasn't it obvious to you that they didn't want you in their circle? You were an outsider they would never let in.

"—and now you're saying they need us? For what?" He answered his own question after swallowing his spit. "For support? That's rich coming from them, don't you think? How dare they ask something they never gave us when we needed it the most?"

"I don't want to end up like them, oppa." Your voice was barely audible as you trained your eyes on the floor. "You and I both know how painful it is not to have the support we craved. Do you really want to pass that pain to someone else?"

Taehyung cackled, forcing you to cast your eyes back to him.

"That's where we're different, little sister." He licked his lower lip, thunder and lightning were brewing in his eyes. "I don't care about the pain of the people who hurt me. I don't want to be the bigger person here. What? Am I supposed to just forget everything I went through just because my father is in pain? He's hurt for a reason. He deserves it."

Taehyung knew he was being mean. He couldn't help it. Why must he allow toxic people back in his life again? He managed to pull himself from a very dark place. It was difficult. It was shitty. It was heartbreaking. But he did it.

He did it and just because he could didn't mean he'd allow himself to go back to that dark place. Taehyung wouldn't. He would never be sorry for how he protected his peace.

Not going back to Seoul was how he did it.

"But Soojin..." If Taehyung couldn't forgive his father, then he should go back home for the sake of his other sister.

"Ah," your brother smirked. "Kim Soojin. The person who stole the love of your life. Am I right?" He crossed his arms, not waiting for you to reply.

"Sometimes I don't understand you. Are you a martyr or an idiot? Why would you want to help Soojin? You suffered greatly because of her, did you not?"

You were once again lost for words.

Taehyung continued speaking.

"She's mean to you. She's the reason why you're far away from home." He stroked his chin, squinting his eyes at you. "I know now. You're not a martyr. You're stupid. You enjoy loving the people who hurt you, and then you hurt people who love you."

Yoongi grabbed his boyfriend's wrist vigorously. Taehyung ignored his first warning so Yoongi wouldn't allow him to talk to you any further. He was upset and he was starting to hurt you. It's not right.

Taehyung was unstoppable though.

"You love everyone except Jungkook. Is that the reason why you wanna go back home, huh? Guilt finally caught up with you? Do you really want to be there for our family, or is this the only excuse you can think of because you want to see Jungkook again? You haven't moved on from him, have you?"

The storm in his eyes reached you. The thunder was like a booming pain in your head. The lightning electrified your heart that couldn't be revived.

You felt sick, like you were going to faint. Jimin was suddenly beside you. He dug his fingers into your hips, keeping you from falling.

"Kim Taehyung." Jimin growled at his best friend.

"It's okay," you clamped your eyes shut and after a few seconds, you opened them again, staring into your brother's remorseful eyes.

Funny how people instantly pulled themselves together right after lashing out.

"I'll fly back home tomorrow, even without you."

You were true to your words. You booked a flight going back to Seoul while Yoongi pulled Taehyung back to bed, urging him to rest for a while before deciding what he wanted to do with the information you told him.

Morning came and he still didn't change his mind. You had to go home alone.

"I'm going to miss you," but Jimin dropped you off to the airport. Yoongi wanted to go with you, sadly you told him to just stay with his boyfriend.

"Me too." You unbuckled your seat belt and then you turned to your roommate, giving him your sincerest smile. "Thank you, Jimin. For everything."

He was the sweetest and kindest boy you knew. Jimin paid for your plane ticket since you didn't have enough money for it. You told him you would pay him back soon, but he simply brushed you off, saying that it didn't matter to him if you couldn't pay.

"Just be safe, okay?" He ruffled your hair while you studied his face. You could see it in his eyes, he wanted to say more. You could almost feel these words leaving his mouth: and please come back to me.

He didn't say it though. He couldn't ask for that knowing that Taehyung was probably right. You were not over Jungkook.

You dreaded seeing him. What were you supposed to do after pretending like he didn't exist for almost two years?

Taehyung hated you for sending long holiday messages to the Kims despite not getting a response.

You, on the other hand, hated yourself for ignoring Jungkook's handwritten holiday messages for you—well, actually, it wasn't just holiday letters. Your best friend sent you letters from time to time.

He sent two letters a week. This went on for a year but then one day, Jungkook just...stopped.

You thought he got tired of you and it broke your heart and made you hate yourself even more. You were the one who left. He was the one who begged you to stay.

You didn't deserve anything from him, not even his anger. The question was, could you take it? Could you bear seeing indifference in his eyes after getting used to the love always dancing in his eyes?

Probably not. This was why you were trying to calm your nerves by taking advantage of the free wine on the plane. Jimin was the one who booked your flight, choosing business class.

You didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve these good men in your life. Taehyung was right. You always ended up hurting the people who loved you.

You drank the pain and bitterness away. You lost count on how many glasses of wine you had, all you knew was that your head was spinning and you felt like shit when you got off the plane.

"I didn't know you drink."

You groaned upon hearing Seokjin's remark. You didn't feel like shit anymore.

You felt shittier.

Abashed, you smiled apologetically at your older brother, suddenly regretting his offer to pick you up from the airport.

"Long time no see, oppa..." Two years and he still looked the same: like a deity. Seokjin aged like a fine wine.

"I'm sorry I can't convince Taehyung-oppa to come home with me." Your face was hot and you weren't sure if it was because of wine or embarrassment.

Seokjin noticed your sheepishness as he took your suitcase and handbag, carrying them for you.

"I didn't expect him to come. But at least you're here. Father is expecting you." He started walking so you followed.

"H-How's he and Soojin?" You were stammering since you weren't used to conversing with him. This was probably the longest conversation you had with your eldest brother.

Seokjin had always acted indifferent towards you.

"Jungkook didn't tell you?" He enquired while loading the boot of his car with your luggage.

"He...just told me they're injured."

Your brother sucked in a breath. He closed the trunk of his car loudly before turning to you. Too many emotions were painted on his face, but the most apparent was...exhaustion? Or was it sympathy for your naivety?

"I envy you..." The corner of his mouth turned up as he eyed you from head to toe. You fought the urge to step back. He was making you feel intimidated ."You got to drink. I didn't." He walked towards the driver's seat of his car, opening its door. "The situation is getting worse, sister. You should've drunk more when you still had the chance."

You didn't understand what Seokjin said to you at first, but the moment he turned on the radio in his car, your world crumpled and you wished you had drunk more wine.

"SPD has confirmed that at least four people died in a commercial building collapse Wednesday afternoon in—"

Your stomach flipped, your brain no longer able to listen to the sickening news.

Baffled, your head snapped to look at your brother who was clenching his jaw, his grip on the steering wheel was tight.

"I thought no one died!" You whimpered, chest recoiling.

"That's fifteen hours ago."

Fuck.

"B-But...you said Soojin and father are okay, right? They're not..." You trailed off, it was physically painful for you to continue your statement.

Seokjin sucked in a deep breath as he realized it was better to tell you the truth now. He said that your father was still unconscious, something big and hard fell on his head.

Soojin was in a wheelchair but at least she's conscious. There were cuts and bruises all over her body because of the fallen debris.

"Can we go straight to the hospital now, oppa? I..." You licked your lower lip. "I want to see Soojin and father."

Seokjin didn't answer but he nodded his head. The rest of the ride was filled with silence. The older man turned off the radio when he realized you were breathing heavily.

You tried to calm down. You really did, howbeit everything was too much for you. The alcohol in your system was making you feel hot even though you're literally covered in cold sweat.

What about those people who had died? Do their family know? How could Castle help them? Who was taking charge?

You whimpered again. When you left two years ago, the situation was already bad. The construction workers were protesting every Friday, demanding to be treated right—to be treated fairly. They didn't have the same benefits as regular employees. They didn't have social insurance. Their daily wage wasn't even enough to get them by.

"Hey..." Seokjin slowed down, glancing at you when he heard you whine for the umpteenth time. "Your head hurts? We can buy coffee if you want..."

Was he worried thinking that you had too much wine?

"I'm okay, oppa. Just thinking about those who..." You swallowed thickly. "d-died."

Seokjin's eyes softened.

"Namjoonie is taking care of it," he exhaled slowly. "Don't worry about it."

It was easier said than done. You thought about this as you headed to the VIP floor of the hospital. Taemin was confined in one of the rooms on that floor.

You were going to see your father in a few and admittedly, you were nervous. Seokjin's words were echoing inside your head: don't worry about it. How could you stop worrying about those workers who had died when there's a possibility that your father might end up just like them?

"Where's Taehyung?" You heard Sin-ae before you saw her. She was guarding the door of Taemin's room, like she had no intention to let you in.

Of course. You expected this day to be difficult. Nothing much had changed in the past two years. Sin-ae still treated with strong contempt.

You noticed the change in her eyes though. Back then, she threw daggers at you, but right now, she looked like she didn't have the energy to do that. Her eyes were...hollow.

"I...couldn't convince him to go home—"

It was sudden.

Not your answer. You had thought so many times while you were on plane the things you would tell Sin-ae and your entire family as to why Taehyung couldn't come home.

He's busy with work, but he's sad he can't come.

He's flying back home in days. Let's just wait for him.

He said he's sorry. He'll call later. Don't worry.

Your excuses were thought thoroughly. You practiced saying it. Hell, you even imagine what they'd say or how they'd react.

You expected them to scowl, to cry...Sin-ae cried.

She cried after slapping you right across the face. She's angry. She's sad. She's frustrated. She's directing these ugly feelings twisting in her gut to you.

"He couldn't come?" She hissed, her eyes were red and tears kept on rolling down her cheeks. She was shaking.

"Jungkook told you to convince my son to go home! You had one job! One fucking job! Why can't you do it, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you were guilty. You avoided her gaze. "I just..." And then you bit your tongue before you said "want to see my father..."

You tried to get past her, but she blocked the way.

"No!" She spread her arms to cover the door. "You are not allowed to see my husband, bastard!"

You shook your head, ignoring her and still insisting to go inside the room. Seokjin said Taemin wanted to see you.

He requested your presence.

"Please." You pleaded. Your voice was shaky too, your blood running cold. Something was wrong. Something was telling you you had to see your father.

The beat of your heart wasn't normal.

"He wants me here..."

"No!" Sin-ae pushed your chest. "We want Taehyung here. Not you! So get lost!"

No.

You pushed her too, making her more aggressive. Sin-ae scratched your skin, screaming. She wanted you to go away.

"What is happening here?" Seokjin arrived. He was so startled to see his mom in this feral state.

"I want her out, Seokjin! Make her go away!" Sin-ae wailed in her son's arm.

Your older brother embraced her tight. He was looking at you using those puppy eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he shook his head at you and then he mumbled "please leave..."

Off you go.

You were defeated anyway. Two versus one. How could you fight your family?

You were exhausted. Both from your long flight and dealing with Sin-ae. Your head hurt too.

You needed coffee to help you sober up. Fuck wine. Fuck Sin-ae. Fuck this stupid vending machine.

Why couldn't you have your coffee?

It was fucking stuck.

You breathed heavily while massaging your temple.

You hadn't recovered from your throbbing head when a new wave of pain engulfed you.

Someone called your name.

Not just someone.

You knew that voice well.

You turned your head to the side slowly.

You saw the person who called you.

"Soojin..." It was Jungkook who called your name, but what you uttered was your sister's name.

He was with her. Jungkook was standing behind Soojin's wheelchair.

Baby I'm falling head over heels

Your breathing hitched while looking at the both of them.

It was just like in movies. You know, when your eyes sparkled when you saw someone you loved after a very long time.

Looking for ways to let you know just how I feel

You called Soojin yet your eyes were focused on your best friend. The friend you hadn't seen in years.

I wish I was holding you by my side

His voice was soft when he uttered your name. But just like Sin-ae, his eyes changed too.

Indifference.

He was no longer looking at you with fire in his eyes.

I wouldn't change a thing 'cause finally it's real

It was like he's a completely different person. It hurt looking at him like this, like he didn't recognize you, like he was debating if you were real or not.

Were you really here? Or were you just a fragment of his imagination?

You walked towards them, causing Jungkook to flinch.

His chest felt heavy. He gripped the push handle of Soojin's wheelchair with force.

You were standing near them now.

Jungkook blinked.

He wasn't hesitating anymore.

You were definitely here.

I'm tryin' to hold back, you ought to know that

"Hi..." You said to Soojin, voice wavering. It hurt seeing her like this. She had a cervical collar on. It was difficult for her to speak.

You crouched down as you smiled softly at your sister.

Jungkook watched you. He was holding himself back. It wasn't the right time to hold you in his arms.

You're the one that's on my mind

He missed you though. More than so much. Two years and you were still running inside his mind.

I'm falling too fast deeply in love

Everything was dawning to him too fast.

Two years and he still loved you.

Time was irrelevant.

It went slow when you weren't around. He thought those painfully long moments without you by his side were enough to forget his feelings for you.

Finding the magic in the colors of you

Apparently, it wasn't enough. He stared hard at you, like he was looking for something.

Love? Affection? Anger? Longing?

He would take anything you could offer, because after all this time, he was still in love with you.

Little did he know, you felt the same way too.

For Jungkook, you're the right time at the right moment

But as you straighten your back and met his gaze, you realized something:

For you, he was the wrong time at the wrong moment.

A/N: my mom asked me if i was planning to write fics tonight or workout. i chose the former because MAN my body is so sore i don’t think i’ll be able to move properly. 😩 standing workout IS NOT easier than sitting workouts!!!!! ANYWAY i know there aren’t many jk x oc moments in the past chapters....so ✌️

in which you’re acting in olivia’s wilde’s new movie and harry happens to be a big fan.

SO EXCITED FOR YALL TO READ THIS!!! :D feedback is welcome as always <3

fluff!!!! and just a lot of stuff about hollywood and the industry etc!!

You remember being eighteen and getting your first acting job on a big series. The most popular series on netflix at the time. You were so young and so new but you couldn’t let this offer go, so you took it and it was the best decision you ever made. It started you career and you ended with a job you love and are so very passionate about.

Soon enough the show decided that they would do one final season, you were 20 and had only done two movies since then. They were good movies but there was nothing much to them, you were just the best friend in them and nothing more.

When the job the series ended your agents were looking high and low for auditions and ideas etc. Everything was going pretty well, you had secured a place on a movie (again only a best friend) and you were pretty confident with what the future was going to hold. Doing that movie, that you thought you would only be a side character - was the best thing that had ever happened to you. You were praised for your role in the drama, and ended wining awards you never could even dream about. You also picked up a lot of lifelong friends.

Things were going so well. You had auditions and managers wanting you from every corner of the states, directors and producers calling up your agents. You felt as if nothing could stop you or get in your way.

Then COVID struck.

You were so grateful that you had a roof over your head and friends living with you in such a depressing and emotional time, but you couldn’t help but be upset. You were so excited for your career to finally take off and for you to get properly working.

But you just had to make do with what you had. You were in lots of lives on instagrams and still did lots of press for you latest movie and tv series. Although it was basically just the same questions, but you had something to keep you busy.

***

“Now don’t get too excited, but i got you an audition for a movie olivia wilde is directing” Alexia, your agent and bestfriend said over the phone. You grabbed your other friend, Danny, arm grinning at his confused expression.

“I love you so much, y’know that” you say listening to laugh alexia let out.

“I said don’t get too excited, but i think you’ve got this. just do your usual set up and clean face and hair out of your face ok?”

You nod and then answer back with a quick yes and a goodbye before hanging up and squealing. “i’ve got an audition for an olivia wilde movie” you yell making danny stand up and bring you into a hug.

“Fuck yes!” he yelled and then suddenly he stopped looking you dead in the eye. “This is the first time i’ll see you in your zone, Ms Emmy award winning actress” he teased making you hit him with a soft smile.

“You’re gonna have to help me dan, like read my script out when i get it. And help me set up lighting and shit”

“Sounds important, you sure you don’t want sara to help you with that?” he asked referring to his sister, and your partner in crime. You had all been friends since middle school all living in the same neighbourhood and going to the same school.

You were together through everything.

When sara got denied from her top college, when danny came out as bisexual, when your mom had died. Of course you had fights, like every friend. But you always came back to eachother. Sara and danny stayed with you when you were done with acting, when your mom had died very suddenly, when your dad lost contact with you and your brother. They were really the best friends you could ever ask for. You were so grateful.

“Should be ok, will probably need sara’s opinion seen as shes a film major. But it’s pretty easy stuff dan” you insisted picking up your laptop from the couch and opening it up.

Danny nodded and sat beside you placing an around your shoulder.

“i think you’ll get it. don’t know what it’s about, but you’re definitely fit for an olivia wilde movie”

You grin at him and open up your email to see alexia has sent you some lines to record.

“i’m going to go over these a bit, but i’ll let you know when i need you”

***

Danny and sara helped you with the audition tape and calmed your nerves and frustrations. Usually your anxiety is high when waiting for a call back, but now with covid and not getting the work you want it’s beginning to get a little worse. But you had your best friends there to guide you through it.

Weeks went on and no news came and honestly you forgot all about it moving onto different projects and stuff for 2022.

Then you got a call.

“y/n. you got the part”

And with that, you, danny and sara celebrated. You were beyond grateful and couldn’t believe you had gotten work — let alone with olivia wilde.

A bottle of wine and chinese takeout was the best you guys were going to get, but you didn’t complain one bit. Love island was on in the background while danny painted your nails and sara did your hair. “I can’t believe i’m going to be working along side olivia fucking wilde” you squealed making danny laugh and sara pull your hair. You yelped. “Olivia wilde gets to work along side Y/N fucking L/N” she corrected earning a couple of laughs out of you and danny. You guys celebrated anything and everything, it was like your tradition.

Danny got a haircut - celebration. sara finished editing that video that she had in the background for a good morning - celebration. you finally getting rid of those horrible earrings - celebration.

it was also an excuse to order unhealthy amounts of takeout.

“y’know i feel good about this”

Danny nodded putting the nail polish on the coffee table. “i can see that. look more confident” he added sara agreeing with him.

“just don’t forget about us when you get to go to the met gala. you’ve already done one hit movie, let’s hope this this another”

***

The script you received was absolutely amazing.

you couldn’t explain it, how it made you feel. You just couldn’t wait to play this character - although it was very different to your last character, you still felt so connected to it. A thriller was something you could never see yourself in, even now you have a hard time believing you’re going to be in one. And the amount of sex scenes thats in it, it did get you a little excited, albeit you were a tiny bit nervous.

“Harry styles” Alexia said over zoom, you grinned and danced around your sitting room.

“What are you dancing about?” danny asked putting the groceries on the counter.

“i’m gonna be having pretend sex with harry fucking styles!” you yelled making alexia cackle and danny dance around the room with you. “this is definitely something to celebrate. i’ll get the wine!” danny said dancing his way to the kitchen.

“well i’m glad you’re not shy. Olivia said harrys quite nervous about it all. obviously he was in dunkirk, but this is his first proper movie” she said making you nod “i know you’ll make him feel comfortable, but you are so confident so please don’t scare him off” alexia teased making you pout.

“i can’t help it. but i’ll make him a gift basket or something” you shrugged and alexia smiled.

“this is why i love you”

“ok so, harry styles, olivia wilde and y/n l/n in one movie?” sara asked making you smile as danny cheered. “my baby is making me so proud” sara cried dragging you up off the floor and spinning you around. you giggled and poured.

“i love you guys so much, y’know that?” you say putting an arm around both of their shoulders.

“eh, we love you too” sara said shrugging her shoulders.

“eh? shut the fuck up. say you love me like you mean it” you say tickling them. “ok! we love you, so much” danny yelled making you stop and put your hands on your hips.

“good to know”

And so the days went by you video chatting with olivia and the other producers. Making sure to check in with everyone as well. Olivia was the sweetest person ever, she called to just talk or to go over any queries or notes you had. She was honestly such a genuine person and you were glad you got to work with someone so kind.

Today was the day you would be meeting some of the cast and producers etc. You hadn’t really seen anyone other than alexis, sara and danny so you were excited.

You’re an outgoing, extroverted person so covid really hit you hard. You get bored easily too, so you really needed this lunch.

Deciding to dress up a little, you put on your favourite flare jeans and white tank top. You tucked it in and placed your red cardigan over it. And obviously your go to shoes were your white converse — your feet haven’t grown since high school, so you call these converse your lucky converse since you’ve worn them at every event. even at a red carpet!

Placing your hair in a braid, you did some natural looking makeup and then placed your rings on your fingers. “I’m going now, sara!” you called out only earning a groan — she had been working late last night so there was no seeing her until at least 2:30.

Danny was out on a hike clearing his energy or some shit he read online.

You were a bit nervous to drive there as you had only gotten your license recently, usually sara insists on driving everyone apparently it’s therapeutic, you’re in actual hell while driving. luckily the restaurant is only 10 minutes drive, so hopefully you make it there alive. you didn’t know how many people would be there, with covid and all you didn’t really know what to expect. You knew olivia would be there, and probably harry too. Which weirdly enough you weren’t too nervous about.

you had made a post on instagram about being excited to work with olivia and harry and the many other amazing people - and the harry fans of course went crazy. But overall everyone took the news really well.

When you arrived at the restaurant there were a few paps, probably there for harry and not expecting you. You’re a new popular actress, so this would make the paparazzi a lot of money. Once word got out that Y/N L/N and harry styles were having lunch together it would probably end it mayhem.

“y/n! over here!” a voice called out as you walked into the restaurant.

You smiled as you saw olivia wave at you. “ah! i’m so sorry i’m late” you say and olivia shook her head bringing you into a hug. “don’t worry about it! we’ve ordered some drinks, got you a coke” she said.

“i’m harry” a deep voice said from behind you, making you look around and see - harry fucking styles - introducing himself to you.

“i know who you are!” you giggled pulling him into a hug, which he obviously didn’t expect, but took it anyways. “i’m y/n” you say pulling back and sitting down infront him crossing your legs.

“i know who you are too” he blushed making you laugh again.

“you’re vegan, right?” you asked and he nodded “yeah, have been for a while. trying hard to stay somewhat healthy over quarantine” he said sipping on his water.

“well, i get a takeout probably two times a week and haven’t been to a gym in, i’d say 5 years”

Harry laughed loudly, making you laugh too. Olivia and the producers gave each other knowing smiles. They really hit the jackpot with this one.

***

“that wasn’t as bad as i thought” you mumbled as you got your first covid test done. It was very uncomfortable to say the least, but it didn’t hurt and you didn’t pass out so that was a plus.

you were going to start working next thursday, if everything goes to plan. If someone has covid then they obviously have to push it back.

You were so excited to get to work, it wouldn’t be like any other set you’d worked on. But you had a feeling it was going to be one you’ll remember forever.

“how was it?” danny asked as you got back in the car.

“better than expected. uncomfortable, but ok” you mumbled sitting back in the seat. Danny noticed how tired you were so he turned off the music and put down your window a little and let you sleep the whole journey home. You had been at all hours going over your script. This is what happened with you last role, and it was just the way you worked.

By the time you go on set you had everyone’s lines memorised.

The days went by slowly. It was actually quite painful. But your covid results came and you were negative and so was everyone else on the set and in your household. So you could finally get into work.

You were driven to work on thursday by a very nice man called john. He talked non stop, but it was nice to get to talk to some other than sara, danny and your agents.

“Have a good day john” you called out stepping out of the car your new pink mask adorning your face.

you had to get bangs the other day — you never heard the fucking end of it off of danny and sara. you had bangs in high school, along with some really badly done piercings and you told yourself never again. Of course the bangs looked good, they were amazing and you actually suited them this time. But that didn’t stop sara taking out all of the pictures of your freshman year and making you do a side by side for her instagram.

“you look tired” a voice called making you turn around a stick up the middle finger. You recognised the voice immediately, harry styles. He laughed coming beside you in his white vote shirt and tracksuit bottoms.

“i have to go and get my tattooes covered now” you sighed placing your phone in your tote bag, harry nodded “me too, the only time i’ll ever hate getting these tattoos”

“y’know i like them. the tattoos, they suit you” you say opening up the trailer door. harry stopped and smirked “hmm. see you later”

Covering up the tattoos didn’t take as long as you thought. The makeup and hair took a good hour and was painful with the mask - you did nearly pass out from the heat, but luckily harry stopped by with a cup of tea just in time.

God.

That man was something else. Seen as he’s never properly done this before, you thought he’d be full of first day jitters. But no, he’s going trailer to trailer, with tea’s and coffees.

“you nearly ready? we have our first scene soon” harry said leaning against the trailer door. All of you were practically ordered to wear a coat to cover the clothes as some paps had been spotted. It was a rather cold day so it didn’t make a difference to you.

“eager?”

He nodded holding your hand helping you down the steps of the trailer — heels were a real bitch you decided.

“paps and heel are assholes” you say making harry laugh. “you can say that again” he said dropping your hand and walking beside you.

You wanted him to hold your hand.

“don’t worry, i’ll go easy on you” you tease getting a pinch in return.

“more like the other way”

“yeah, christopher nolan movie ey? proper actor”

Harry rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face placing an arm around your shoulder.

“come on, wife.”

***

The days were long and some days were hard. But harry made everything so much better. Hugging you when you needed it, joking when you needed a laugh. There was paparazzi pictures of harry speaking and you laughing - which was a horrible cackle that made harry laugh. The fans were going crazy for you guys, and you were both asked constantly on whether there could be something more going on with you two.

“Another headline, H”

Harry shook his head with a small smile, placing the chinese onto the plate.

“your first drama headline, i’m so proud” Danny said placing an arm around you. Danny, sara you and now harry had decided to celebrate the first two weeks of filming and now apparently your first drama headline. Something about harry joining in all your tradition and not complaining about the awful food or very obnoxious and rude chats that go in, makes you soft and weirdly enough besotted.

“oh shut up, i’ll tell the paps that i’m dating you again. they’ll never leave you alone” you warn and danny backed off.

“again?” harry asked laughing slightly and passing you the plate full of food.

“everytime danny’s mean to me i tell the paps that we’re dating, even told one i was pregnant and that he didn’t want the baby”

“fuck off. remind me to never get on your badside” harry cackled sitting down beside you his food on the coffee table and his wine in the other. He had, had a good few drinks before hand too — he said “it’s my cheat night”.

Soon enough danny and sara went off to bed, not before danny teased you about how in love you and harry are. “oi! fuck off” harry yelled making danny squeal.

“please chase after me, daddy” danny said running down the hall.

“don’t humour him” you giggled sipping out of your wine glass.

“i’m in love with your friends” he said pausing to take a big gulp of his wine. “they’re just so genuine” he finished leaning back and placing a pillow on his lap. you nodded in agreement.

“we’ve been friends for years, before any of us were like somewhat famous”

“y’know i’ve seen your first movie about 100 hundred times” harry admitted making you flush. “shut up. you’re talking out of your ass” you say taking his wine glass away and pausing netflix.

“i’m serious. had a proper crush on you too” he laughed shaking his head.

“i don’t know if you remember, but i think it was a teens choice awards. and you had gone on stage to get an award and i helped you up the stairs thinking you had heels on” he said and you remember it vividly now.

“oh shit yeah! no, i wore my lucky converse. they’re pretty cool too”

“i think youre pretty” harry whispered moving closer to you. you bit your lip to try and stop yourself from squealing.

“hmmm. ok mr styles”

Before you could come up with another joke harry placed his lips on yours. You didn’t even hesitate in kissing him back, your hands flying to his hair. He moaned at the feeling of you tugging on it.

“you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to do that for” harry said slightly out of breath.

“don’t worry, darling” you paused.

“me too”

For @rockscanfly ‘s prompt of “charles gets to watch arthur do embarrassing shit all the time. whats one time that arthur saw charles do something embarrassing?” which ate my brain and made me cackle incoherently to myself.

This is the ‘like thieves in the night’ verse, after they get to Serendipity and before John’s in the know:

Arthur’s been loitering near the stables, avoiding Hosea’s endless dickering to make nice with some a new foal and its weary momma, so it’s only seeing Charles’ back go rigid that makes him glance up.

It’s a bright spring morning, just barely out of the grip of winter, and they’d ridden down to the Smit’s ranch to pick up a few head of cattle for the farm, something that Arthur figures should’ve taken ten minutes, but with Hosea there’s always twenty minutes of small talk and an hour of haggling over prices, so he’d settled in for the long haul while Charles inspected the herd.

Arthur leans out of the barn to get a better look at Charles, who’d been leaning against the fence, smiling vaguely as he looked out over the rolling hills. He’s not doing that now - his hackles are up and he jumps back from the fence like he’s touched a live wire, furtively casting around like he’s looking for cover in a firefight.

Doesn’t seem to Arthur that anything’s changed, really, Hosea’s still up on the porch with the owner, and it seems his eldest daughter has stepped out to join them. She’s a nice enough girl, just turned twenty with no ring on her finger, and she’s plush and soft in the way Mary was, like she’d break should Arthur so much as look at her wrong. Matilda, Arthur remembers suddenly, her name’s Matilda.

Glancing back to Charles, he finds the man has jumped the fence, making for the side door of the stable, creeping along like he’s hunting game.

“Charles!” Matilda calls from the porch, her voice bubbling with the kind of excitement that only comes with youth. She dashes down the steps, her skirts in hand. “Daddy didn’t mention you’d be coming down too!”

From where he’s leaning, Arthur can see Charles’ face through the side window as he’s caught, and his eyes go rabbit-wide, and he mutters a curse that Arthur has only ever heard him use when he’s talking about the Army or Dutch.

“Heey there, Matilda,” he says, voice strained as he turns on his heel, still backing away slowly.

Matilda is fussing with her hair, straightening her dress as she comes up on the fence. “I told you,” she teases, “My friends call me Maddie.”

Charles makes a strained noise and backs into one of the struts holding up the stable’s overhang. “I - yes. Sorry, Maddie. I was just - just going to take a closer look at the herd -”

“You know,” Matilda says, like she’s being subtle or shy, “I never did get a chance to thank you proper for seeing me home after Glenda threw a shoe.”

Charles throws up his hands, “No need for thanking,” he says quickly. “Just - being neighborly.”

“Lending me your coat,” Matilda goes on, oblivious, “Letting me squeeze up behind you on the saddle - “

Purposefully, Arthur bites down on his knuckles to stifle a laugh .Somehow, Charles has neglected to relate this particular little story of neighborly good-deeding. Funny, that.

“I just - the weather was real bad,” Charles says, still backing away. Arthur has seen him less wary around rattlers. “Just - best for all that you got home safe -”

“It was just so - heroic,” she says, wistfully. “Daddy says you’re an American? You used to be a cowboy out on the frontier?”

“Oh no I - I just - I - just ranching, mostly,” Charles lies, because if the girl wants heroic stories, then Arthur’s got a few dozen to fill her head up with. “Nothing interesting -”

Matilda sighs gustilly, fanning her chest as she positions herself in a way she must think looks enticing, but mostly seems uncomfortable. “It sounds so romantic.”

“It’s not,” Charles says, almost plaintively. “It’s really -”

“Oh no,” she says, purposefully letting an old handkerchief flutter into the muddy paddock. “I dropped my handkerchief.” She leans over the fence, making as if to grab it, but even from this angle Arthur can tell she’s just shoving her breasts together as she leans over, deepening her cleavage with a lot of creative positioning and hope. “Would you be a dear and grab that for me?”

Charles stills, looking from the girl to the pile of manure it’s landed in and says, deliberately, “I’d just as soon leave it, miss, I think it’s ruined.”

Arthur just about has to shove his fist into his mouth to silent a peel of laughter at that, almost doubling over.

The girl pouts, but goes on unperturbed. “You know, I’m a really good baker,” she says hopefully, perking up. “I’d love to come by Serendipity sometime, just to show my appreciation. Momma says no one makes pie like me, you know. Would you like a slice of my pie, Charles?”

Charles just about yelps, probably because he backed his way onto a loose, rusty nail in the side of the barn, cowering back like he’s never done for lawmen or O’Driscolls or the god damn US Army, but it’s just as well, because that sends Arthur to the ground, wracked with silent laughter, and the shout covers the noise of him sinking to the ground.

“I don’t - like pie,” Charles says shortly, which as far as metaphors goes, ain’t even a little bit wrong. “I. My. I been stepping out with Tilly Jackson for a long while now, and she makes, uh, some real nice biscuits, though -”

“You mentioned her,” Matilda says, her voice going a bit suspicious. “I saw her ‘round the market last weekend and she seems real surprised you told me about the two of you -”

I bet she was, Arthur thinks hysterically, another peel of laughter trying to claw its way out of his throat.

“Oh no,” Charles whispers to himself, quietly. Arthur claws his way back to his feet just to see how wide his eyes have gotten, and he’s not disappointed. There’s small rodents living out in the desert with less fear of hawks than Charles has for Matilda Smit in this moment.

“-and she told me you two called things quits? She said you’re a real gentleman but you broke her heart.”

“Did she,” Charles says darkly, in a tone of voice that promised later retribution.

“I think any woman would be lucky to have you, Charles Smith,” she says, earnest and sweet, blinking big brown eyes at him like a fawn in spring.

“That’s - uh, that’s real kind, but really, it was Miss Tilly who broke, uh, my heart,” he says quickly, “I’m just. A broken man about it.”

Tactical mistake, Arthur thinks. In his misspent youth, Arthur has used that line to the exact opposite effect that Charles is hoping for.

On cue, Matilda makes an anguished noise. “Oh you poor thing,” she says, hitching her skirts up to climb over the fence. “Oh, women can be so, so cruel, you deserve yourself a good wife, and lots of babies running around -”

“No, no, no, miss, please!” Charles says, pure panic in his voice, “You’ll muddy your skirts. You just. Stay over there.”

“You’re such an gentleman,” she says, almost as if it pains her, but she at least stops trying to go over the fence. “I was thinking, maybe you’d like to come around some evening,” she says, and her voice goes sly for a moment, “You know, my daddy is driving the herd down to Montreal the end of the month -”

If he was a good man, Arthur would stop this, but thank god he’s a bastard because the anguished noise that Charles makes at that invitation is one that will bring Arthur joy for years and years to come.

“I wouldn’t want to - to presume, Miss Smit -”

“Maddie!” the girl says sharply.

“Maddie! I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t want to bring you any trouble-”

“I like a bit of trouble-”

“And I just - the farm needs me -”

“You’re so responsible -”

“And I, I, uh, uh -”

“No need to get flustered, Charles,” the girl says, all sweet and understanding, “We both want the same thing-”

“Arthur!” Hosea calls jovially, striding into the barn and drawing up short when he finds Arthur doubled over, barely holding back tears of laughter. “What on earth are you-?”

“...Arthur?” Charles growls from the other side of the wall, suddenly glaring in through the window at the pair of them. “You been there the -”

“Mister Matthews,” Matilda says, sounding put out and sour, “Charles and I were just - “

“I’m real sorry, Miss Smit,” Charles says quickly, “We best be on our way. Gotta drive the cattle home -”

“Think Hosea and I could manage it the two of us,” Arthur says helpfully, palming away tears. “If you wanted to -”

“No!” Charles says, then more calmly, “No, no, I think it’s best we all three of us go, just to be sure. Sides,” he says, glaring at Arthur, “We got things to discuss when we make it home.”

Arthur flashes him a sharp, innocent smile, shrugging. “Don’t wanna get in the way of young lo-”

“I’ll go see to the horses,” Charles snaps, heaving himself over the fence and stalking away to where they’d reined up the horses, but not so fast that Matilda doesn’t have the opportunity to lean over, whisper too loudly, “End of the month!”

“What on earth was that about?” Hosea asks, frowning faintly after him.

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll tell you the whole thing,” Arthur says, laughing despite himself. Charles was gonna skin him alive, but there wasn’t a force on earth that could stop him telling everyone back home.

~A few hours later~

Lenny is laughing so hard he can’t breathe, doubled over on the ground, looking near to passing out, and Sean and Karen ain’t much better off, both leaning against each other to stay upright.

“I think it’s entirely fair I said what I said,” Tilly says, unrepentant. “What on earth were you thinking? You know I’m thinking about letting Beau Montreau step out with me, and he’s skittish as a cat -”

“I’m just telling her I’m an invert,” Charles says wearily, headown on the table and, taking pity on him, Arthur quietly refills his glass. “It was a nice life here, but it’s time we moved on.”

“And break her heart?” Lenny manages, weeping with laughter. “You scoundrel.”

“Now I ain’t a jealous man,” Arthur says, enjoying this far, far too much, “But if you’re leaving me for her, best you just come out with it, do it quick like setting a bone.” Arthur makes a show of marshalling himself. “Do it now, quick, while I’m ready.”

Charles’ lashes out, but Arthur ducks the smack deftly, catching his hand and pressing a kiss to his unresisting knuckles, only dropping it when the door creaks open behind them. John struts in looking pleased with himself, fresh back from town with the groceries. “Ya’ll will never guess what I heard down in town - seems Charles’s finally got himself a woman - hey, hey! What’s so goddamned funny!”

Obey Me! Boys and the Cute Date They Would Take MC On

Lucifer: “I feel like I don’t belong here.”

When Lucifer had mentioned that an orchestra was going to be performing, they had been so excited to go that they nearly vibrated out of existence. But now that they were here, that excitement had morphed into a heavy lump of anxiety hanging out somewhere between their heart and stomach.

Lucifer glanced down at the human with a raised eyebrow. “And what in the Three Realms would make you think that?”

For a moment, they were quiet, looking around at the crowd of demons dressed to the nines. Elegant silk evening gowns and smart tuxedos abound. Their black slacks and dress shirt made them feel so under-dressed that they might as well have shown up naked.

Lucifer, sharp as ever, pulled them closer and leaned down the speak in their ear. “You needn’t feel intimidated, my dear.”

“I don’t feel intimidated, I feel stupid.”

“That isn’t any better.”

They sighed, casting another look around the hall. Golden mantle pieces, an elegantly-winding staircase, chandeliers absolutely dripping with crystals...everything made them feel incredibly insignificant.

“Should I have gotten more dressed up?”

Lucifer chuckled. “So that’s what has you worried?” 

He lead them away from the entrance into the hall proper. “All of these demons are dressed the way they are because they must work at being beautiful. You, my dear,” he stopped in front of them, reaching down to carefully hold the peacock pendent hanging from their neck - the only piece of jewelry they wore. “Are the only one who is naturally radiant enough to wear my symbol. These peasants could turn themselves into pure gold and they would only shine half as bright as you do.”

They could feel their face grow hot enough to catch fire. They opened and closed their mouth like a fish, intent on refuting Lucifer’s compliment, but he gave them no option. With a deep laugh that they felt travel up their spine, he offered his arm to them in a move straight out of a Victorian romance novel.

“Now then, shall we go? You’ll love this orchestra, I promise.”

Mammon: “I can’t believe there’s street fairs in the Devildom!”

It was surprisingly similar to something you would see up in the Human Realm. Strings of fairy lights lit up the cobblestone street that was lined with all kinds of stalls. Food stalls selling a variety of things that probably shouldn’t be deep fried but are anyway, games of chance, craftsman selling their wares - “Don’t buy anything from that one, all of their crap is cursed and they charge a fee for removal.” 

“Come on,” Mammon clicked his tongue as the two of them wandered throughout the fair. “Did’ja think the Devildom was all doomed souls and torture chambers?”

“...Yes?”

The demon paused before shrugging. “Ya know, that’s fair. But we have an image to keep, don’t we? Can’t have the little humans knowin’ about our bitchin’ carnivals.”

“I’ll take the secret to my grave.” 

Somewhere a little down the street, they could hear the spinning of a roulette wheel, and Mammon immediately perked up. 

“Aw yeah, now we’re talking! Come on, human, you get to see the Great Mammon in all of his glory!”

A thin spike of fear ran through their body as Mammon grabbed their wrist and tugged them through the crowd. “Didn’t Lucifer ban you from gambling? Like, forever?”

“Whatever, what he don’t know won’t hurt ‘im,” they finally reached the roulette booth. “As long as I don’t lose and you don’t squeal, we don’t have anything to worry about!”

“Mammon, there’s a big, gaping hole in your logic there - “

“Have a little faith, human!” Mammon grinned and he slapped some Grimm down on the counter. The glint in his eyes was damn near predatory, and it sent a different kind of shiver down their spine.

The demon behind the counter chuckled gleefully as they spun the wheel. The crowd surrounding them hooted and hollered and shoved each other to be able to watch the wheel, but Mammon looked surprisingly calm. He stood with his arms crossed, eyes trained on the pointer at the top of the wheel.

If they hadn’t been standing right next to him, they wouldn’t have noticed him rhythmically tapping against the sleeve of his jacket.

It was almost imperceptible, but the clicking of the wheel appeared to be following the beat that Mammon was tapping, slowing as the pauses between beats got longer. Eventually, both Mammon and the wheel stopped...

Right on the number he had bet on.

The crowd groaned as Mammon collected his winnings, some hissing at him as they dispersed. The Avatar of Greed looked truly in his element as he flipped a Grimm in the air. “Told ya.”

“You were...using magic?” the human looked back and forth between the wheel and Mammon. “You manipulated the wheel.”

“Aw, man, I was hoping you wouldn’t catch that.” he sighed, pocketing his earnings. “Can’t ya just pretend I have incredible luck?”

“I will if you buy me food.”

“Deal.”

Leviathan: Going to the arcade on a Wednesday at noon was definitely one of Levi’s best ideas.

“Why does your aim suck so bad?”

“Oh, you are SO lucky this game doesn’t have friendly fire, Levi.”

“You couldn’t hit me even if it did.”

They were standing close enough that it wasn’t difficult for them to learn over and bump him with their shoulder. His grip on the orange plastic gun slipped and the virtual bullet went flying off into cyberspace. By the time he managed to correct himself, the zombie he had been aiming for was in the process of devouring the character on screen.

“Hey, what gives?!”

“Oops, sorry. My aim really sucks, you know.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Despite their dirty tactics, Levi still wiped the floor with them, cackling gleefully as their scores tallied up on the screen. "Beat that, normie!"

They pouted and blew a raspberry at him. "Jerk. I want a rematch!"

"You're on!"

Satan: If they hadn’t been in the Devildom for so long, they probably would have been scared out of their mind.

That being said, they had been in the Devildom for a while, and seeing an intricately detailed panorama of a demon cat devouring a person alive was only a little unsettling at this point.

“Wow, that must have taken a while,” they got up closer to the exhibit. “It’s like I can hear the screams of agony.”

“Apparently the artist spent a century just on the expression,” Satan came up behind them, slipping his hand into theirs. “It shows, doesn’t it?”

The Devildom Art Museum was having a special exhibition on Demonic cats, and of course Satan had managed to snag tickets for the two of them. They didn’t particularly want to know how he had managed that.

“So, where to next?” they asked.

“The next room has a collection of cursed cat collars.” Satan nodded his head towards the door. “Apparently there’s one that causes whoever puts the collar on their cat to choke to death.”

“Okay, but if there are any there that harm the cats we’re firebombing the place.”

Asmodeus: “See, I told you this place was cute!”

He hadn’t been lying. The little cafe was tucked into a little side street, and the outside seating provided one of the best views of the lake that they had seen aside from being inside the castle grounds. The moons were just beginning to appear as they sky transitioned from the dark lavender color that served as the Devildom’s “day time” into full darkness, and the reflection from the lake made everything sparkle like diamonds.

“How did you even find this place, Asmo?” they asked as they were seated by the host. “This is pretty hidden.”

“Didn’t you know, darling?” Asmo laughed, reaching across the table to weave their hands together. “Some of the most beautiful things can be found in the strangest of places.”

“That’s pretty, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

“I slept with the owner’s son.”

They couldn’t hold back the definitely-not-cute snort. “Yeah, that tracks.”

“I never pass up an opportunity to fuck someone who can cook.” he said sagely. “I want to be fed before I have to do my walk of shame.”

“Don’t you have to have shame for that?”

“Hush,” Asmo giggled. “Here, they have a human-safe section.”

Beelzebub: “I don’t know, Beel, this place, seems awful expensive.”

The conversion rate between human currency and Grimm sometimes threw them off a little bit, but anytime you say three zeroes it was never a good sign.

“Does it?” Beel glanced up from the menu to look at them quizzically before peeking down at the prices again. “Ah, I guess it would. You don’t have to worry, I’ll pay for it.”

“That’s not - “

The server arrived, cutting off their protest. From the sheen of sweat on their brow, the human took it that the staff knew Beelzebub and his famous appetite. Even just the appetizer was enough to feed a whole family. When the waiter finally turned to them, he had to flip over to a new page in his pad. He looked rather relieved when they simply ordered water and fried bat wings (which they had discovered early on tasted a lot like chicken wings and it was therefore their go to.)

When the server dashed off to place their massive order, Beel turned back to the human. “What were you saying?”

“I don’t...” they sighed. “I won’t be able to pay you back.”

“Why would you have to?”

They blinked, tilting their head. “Huh?”

“I don’t mind paying. Plus, I get a discount here.”

The human glanced around the fancy dining area. “This doesn’t look like the place to give out discounts.”

“A lot of places give me and my brothers discounts. Well, Mammon lost a few of his, I think.”  Beel shrugged. “I think it’s because we’re considered nobility? I usually leave the discount as a tip though.”

That explained the grin the host had on their face when they sat them.

They smiled up at him. “You’re so sweet, Beel.”

Belphegor: Nights in the Devildom were surprisingly peaceful.

Once you got past the ideas of torture chambers and crypts, the nights were just like ones up in the Human Realm. Quiet, lazy, and on clear nights, you could see the stars.

“Do you know what that one is?”

The human followed where Belphegor was pointing. “Hm...Orion?”

“Ding.” Belphie laughed. “I knew you would be good at this.”

In typical Belphie fashion, he had texted them out of the blue and told them to meet him in the courtyard at midnight. They thought about just ignoring him and going to sleep, but now they were curious. Which was probably the demon’s plan.

When they arrived, Belphie was laying down on a blanket he had spread out on the grass.

“Took you long enough,” he yawned. “I almost fell asleep waiting for you.”

“It’s only 12:02!”

“Bold of you to assume I can’t fall asleep in two minutes. Are you going to sit down or what?”

And that was how the two of them ended up cuddled next to each other and stargazing.

Belphie knew a surprising amount about constellations.He was able to point out which star was named what, and knew most of the myths that the constellations were named after. Unsurprisingly, listening to him talk was very soothing, and they could feel their eyelids drooping.

“If you want to sleep, you can.” he finally murmured, sounding close to drifting off himself. “We can keep each other warm.”

“...I don’t think Lucifer would appreciate finding us passed out on the lawn.”

“All the more reason to do it.”

Chapter Zero

→ an In The Woods Somewhere excerpt

This is from my zero draft of ITWS that won't be in the new draft I'm starting for Camp NaNo. I still thought it would be fun to share since it gives a little insight into Jackie (park ranger main) and a side character named Benny who works under her. NOTE: there is a lot of info in this that's changed as I've outlined so some of the locations will be inaccurate.

Warnings: brief mention of recreational drug use (mushrooms)

Length: 2.3k words

[ WIP Intro ]

Breath burned aching lungs. Boots stomped in slick, dark mud. The icy mist clung to every hair on bare skin and the drumming of heartbeat became the rhythm in which Jackie fell in time with. She jerked, ducking beneath a low hanging branch. Her hair whipped as she cast a worried glance over her shoulder. It wasn’t following her anymore.

A disgruntled skunk and her litter of kits watched her sprint from the home they made in a thicket of bushes. If she had stuck around for just a second longer, Jackie would have paid dearly for her grave mistake. Up on [the mountain], there wasn’t a proper shower to be had at the lookout. In fact, there was almost no running water to be had at all. That’s exactly how she preferred it - being one with nature in every sense of the word.

“Fuck-” A patch of thick mud sent her sliding into the wooden Trail 46 sign that pointed southeast. Jackie held on to it, leaning over with her chest heaving while she caught her breath. A spring of curled hair fell over her forehead from under the brim of her uniform hat. Taking one last deep breath, she swept it back under and ran her hands along her two thick braids to make sure her rubber bands were still attached to the ends.

Static crackled from the radio on her hip. A voice snickered at her from the other end.

“I didn’t know you could run that fast,” the voice teased her, his laughter turning into crackles. Jackie lifted her head and dragged her eyes along the ridge behind her. Ancient trees and wild brush lined the rocky ledge. She squinted, trying to make sense of the map of greens and browns. Despite her year of working in Wyoming, she struggled making out shapes in the woods that weren’t blocky signs. “Surprised you didn’t lose your hat.”

Jackie unhooked her radio and held it up to her mouth. It trilled and went quiet. “Where are you? I swear to god, Benny, if you scare me again you owe me a cone at Marie Bettie’s on Monday.”

She stood there, a hand on her hip and her radio up by her ear. A crease formed between her brows. Birds flit from tree to tree down Trail 42, drawing her eye. Frowning, she didn’t see Benny there. Nor did he respond on the radio. She hesitantly clicked it again. “Benny I’m not playing. Where the hell are you?” She couldn’t hear herself on the other end. Wherever he was hiding, he had turned off his radio so she couldn’t gauge where he was.

Stepping out into the middle of the trail, Jackie circled around like an uneasy horse, feet pressed firmly into the packed dirt. A small creature of amber red and white darted out from a nearby thicket of prickly bushes and skittered across the trail. She gasped, nearly jumping out of her skin. While distracted, a pair of hands touched down on her shoulders, fingers curling over her uniform.

Jackie screeched, launching herself forwards out of the grip of the intruder. The ranger hat on her head tipped off, rolling and bouncing off the gravel. Her arms barely caught her in time to save her face from getting superficial scratches. Squirming, she rolled onto her back and scrambled into a squat. Benny stood there, cackling loud enough to send a few birds flying from their nests in the trees. His smile took up most of his face. Smile lines deepend and the prominent gap between his teeth was on full display.

“I got you good, didn’t I?” He leaned in, holding a hand out for her. Despite the adrenaline soaring through her veins and the annoyance that tumbled within her, Jackie sighed and grasped at it for help off the ground. Freckles splattered his sun-kissed skin, his cheekbones turning to apples with his grin.

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me two cones, now, Wonderbird. Double scoops.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! You know volunteers don’t make squat here-” Benny stooped down to pick up her hat, dusting it off for her. It was true. When he first joined the park just six months ago, Jackie had been assigned as his mentor. The junior program was offered to any college students pursuing their line of work. To get a taste of life as a ranger. They didn’t make a salary, but their summers spent in action were funded by park leadership in the form of bunks and food. A far better deal than what was offered to her in Tennessee. She took up her hat and repositioned it proudly on top of her head. “But I guess it’s the least I could do for doing that.” He pointed down at her green trousers.

A small tear cut across her knee, thankfully protecting her skin from being lacerated by her fall. Sighing, Jackie lifted her leg and inspected the hole. “Luckily I brought my sewing kit with me to the tower. C’mon, let’s finish our rounds. Think the captain has extra radios for tonight? Last thing I want is to not be able to contact anyone - especially this weekend.”

The end of summer break brought in the most guests outside of the spring season. Mostly college students looking to get out of town, but not willing to commit to the cost of going to the Bahamas or Miami all the way down south. Jackie couldn’t remember most of the breaks from her college days. She crunched to get through with her degree as fast as possible. Any break she got was filled with studying or working wherever she could. She would have liked to go somewhere tropical and warm for her breaks, but she preferred the serenity that usually came with visiting state parks instead.

“How many people usually camp here during breaks?” Benny kicked a pale gray pebble into the grass alongside the pack dirt walking trail.

“Could be hundreds. Maybe even close to a thousand or more. Really depends.” Earlier that day, they had already received an influx of campers eager to stake their claim on the best spots in the park before the hoards arrived. Easily several dozen of them, all scattered between RV hookups, the rentable cabins and clearings for tents. “Just be glad you’re not working at any of the offices this weekend. I’d take firewatch over disgruntled campers any day.”

“I can’t thank you enough, you know.” An elbow bumped Jackie’s arm and she glanced at the grinning young man. “If it weren’t for you, Richards probably would’ve never let me take over tower 24. He told me you put in a good word for me.”

Smiling down at the ground, Jackie shrugged and reached out to give him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “It wasn’t all me. You’ve got the passion for this. The drive. Can’t say the same for some of the other volunteers-”

A trill of squealing laughter caught her attention. The two of them paused right at the fork. One path remained wide open with wooden signs encouraging guests to stay on the correct path. The other had overgrowth and a dirt path so narrow, one could hardly call it a trail at all. The usual rope gate meant to block it off had been cut. Both ends laid useless on the ground with frayed edges. Another bark of laughter came from the end it shouldn’t have.

“Damn…” Jackie muttered bitterly under her breath. Just when she thought they could wrap up for the afternoon. Benny puffed out his chest and stood up taller.

“C’mon, ranger,” he chirped, marching towards the rocky side path. “No dilly dallying!”

“You just want to write up a citation.” She snorted and followed alongside him. “You’re starting to sound like the captain.”

Snaking down the path, the trees overhead grew thicker and wider. Branches from lowly pines scraped against their arms. Creatures that remained unseen skittered into their hiding places. The closer they got to the three or four voices chattering away up ahead, the more signs they saw. Brand new, the signs were nailed into the untouched bark of the trees along the path or plastered on wooden signs hammered into the thick dirt.

WARNING: do not proceed! This area has been sanctioned for investigation by the State of Wyoming and local police. Any violations will result in a $500 fine.

“Have these signs always been here?” Benny’s voice lowered to a faint whisper. Jackie stepped carefully around a pile of stones gathered around the base of a thick oak. Her boots slid against their jagged surfaces. “I don’t remember them putting these up.

“I don’t either. I remember some feds were here on Wednesday, but they weren’t up for much small talk.” They stood proudly in their dark suits and shade, holding boxes of flyers and paperwork and speaking in hushed tones to her higher ups. The single chance she had to greet one of them was met with silence. Very rude. “I don’t think this was a missing person’s case, otherwise we would have been informed about it.”

Like something out of a sci-fi movie, bright yellow caution signs littered a shady grove at the end of the short path. The sound of water trickling from a nearby stream joined the quiet voices. The blocky lettering on the big yellow signs yelled at them.

DO NOT DRINK THE WATER! Do not disturb local flora as issued by the governor of Wyoming.

“Dude! You’re going to get us in trouble!” A nervous voice murmured beyond the trees. There, by the creek, four college aged kids stood around a mossy puddle. Two girls and two boys, all wearing their UW school colors. Most likely freshmen given their wide eyes and round faces. One of them stood with his jeans rolled up to his knees in the shallow water, a fist full of curling brown mushrooms that looked like kelp. They went silent at the sight of the two rangers.

“This path is restricted.” Benny took the initiative, his voice wavering just a bit at the end of his statement. Jackie let him take the reins. If he really wanted to do this for a living, he would have to get used to this. As he went over what rules they broke being there, she made her way over to a damp patch of tall grass between two moss covered trees.

Squatting, she spied even more kelp-like mushrooms. They stuck out of the grass like limp, decaying fingers out of a grave. Jackie narrowed her eyes and used a pen from her breast pocket to jab at it with as gentle of a touch as she could manage. It released a pussy substance and a musky scent that reminded her of the single frat party she attended her last year in school. Similar to weed, but different. From looks alone, she couldn’t nail down from which family this fungus derived from. In fact, she couldn’t recall anything remotely similar in all her years of study.

“You can’t do that.” The kid in the water whined, trudging out of the water. He tossed the picked mushrooms. “C’mon, man, we’re just trying to have a little fun! I gotta pay for books next week!”

Jackie looked over her shoulder in time to see Benny’s head fall like a disappointed teacher’s. He sighed and shifted his weight from foot to foot, unable to reply. Tucking her pen back into its spot, she dusted her hands off and stood.

“Here’s what we’re going to do-” She put her hands on her hips and took over for him. She spoke with authority and a rigid stance. “I’ll let you off with a warning, as long as you four keep to the official trails and stay out of trouble. If me or any of my associates catch you out of bounds again, it’ll be a $700 ticket. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The kid slipped his wet feet into his Nike sandals and hung his head. Blonde hair stuck to his pink face and despite his towering height over her, he still looked like a boy. It only made her feel older than she was. The other three murmured in agreement, following behind him. She watched them shuffle up the path until they disappeared behind a thicket of pines.

“I thought I could do it,” Benny sighed, his head swiveling side to side, checking for litter or anything else the rowdy guests may have left behind. Jackie moved to stand beside him and ruffled his mess of red hair. The way his nose scrunched and his shoulders relaxed from the playful exchange reminded her so much of Andre back at home.

“You did better than I did the first time I tried writing a citation - I cried.” Her sidekick blinked, surprised, and chuckled.

“But you’re so good at it. You’ve got a mom voice - in a good way, I mean.”

“Geez, I’m not that old, Wonderbird. First them, and now you? I’m aging by the second. You’ll have to explain to Richards why my knees are bad and my hair is graying when summer’s over, you dingus.”

Benny all but collapsed forward with laughter, holding his stomach and slapping his knee like a cheery grandfather. Jackie smiled so wide her cheeks ached. She had to avert her gaze to not let the homesickness creep in. She would miss him when he had to go back to school. Just like she missed Andre.

The mushrooms among the grass piqued her curiosity again. She stooped down beside them and inspected them without touching. Who knew what they did and who knew why the government and college kids were so interested in them.

“What are they? They were grabbing a lot of them.” Benny squatted next to her, reaching out to touch one. Jackie gently smacked the back of his hand and shook her head.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t touch them. Let’s get to the office, the captain’s waiting for us by now.”

-

ITWS Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @lordkingsmith @celestialbunnistories @aeslin-writes @writinginslowmotion @chayscribbles @theramwrites @tiredlittleoldme @sapphcon-ic @hazard-writes @lookingmuchimproved @themidnxghtwriter @draculinawrites @aetherwrites @svpphicwrites @maxgraybooks @writeherewaiting @sjjsalamanders @thelittlestspider @ashen-crest @writtendevastation @ravesthewriter @adie-dee @christine-thinks @cream-and-tea @reeseweston

Critical Role Quotes and Memorable Moments - Campaign 2 (78/?)

Caleb: "Molly was like an effortless dick, and Lucian is more concentrated." Jester: "A pointed dick."

Lucien [flicks away tooth pick] Travis: "Ow!"

[About the food penis incident] Lucien: "That wasn't me, that was an apparition" Beau: "Same dick!"

Ashley: "Who has Molly's coat?" Marisha: "I think you do. I have his belt." Veth: "Shall we just dress Lucien as Molly and see if that does it?"

[Yasha and Beau postponing their date] Beau: "Next time we have the dome..." Yasha: "Yeah, sounds good." Beau: "Shake on it!"

[As Veth and Yasha have their moment] Veth: "This is not how I pictured tonight going..." [proceeds to read her a poem] Veth: "I figured you needed to hear it from someone cuz no one's gonna tell you you're special in these horrible wastelands. No one is going to go and say 'Hey you, I like you.' [...] Just remember, I was the first person to ever write you a poem." Veth: "Let's put a pin on this." Yasha: "Yeah, that's a good idea." Veth: "We'll do a proper something. Let's shake on it." Beau: "Veth, what are you doing?" Veth: "You wanna talk about it next to some lava?"

Veth: "My husband has to just find a new wife and he has no game."

[About The Kiss between Fjord and Jester] Yasha: "Did he slip you the tongue?"

[On Lucien] Beau: "He's not blinking. How are his eyeballs not frozen out of their sockets?" Fjord: "Maybe they are frozen open. Maybe this is our chance." Beau: "I got a few ninja stars left." Fjord: "All we need is two."

Jester/Yasha and Beau/Fjord talking about the dates and The Kiss.

Travis [to Matt]: "This morning I have attuned to the smartly purchased ring of fire resistance." Matt: "Well, look at that!"

[crossing the lava river] Jester: "I cast Pass without a trace" Fjord: "Should I cast Water breathing?"

Veth [stealth roll]: "41!" Liam [cackles]: "Yes!"

Fjord making a rain cloud to 'car wash' the party so they're not on fire anymore

Matt: “As you turn this way, the shield blasts off this burst of arcane force damage, and you watch as faint shadows of something just disappears. The rest of you see, firing out of the fog, a rain of calamari chunks.”

Orbs Are Bad News Part 1/2 - (m/m) Gerrit/Llewellyn

I ran out of Eliseo/Padgett stories, so I’ll post the rest of what I’ve got. Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged, and/or left nice comments. This community is truly so kind!

Anyway, I love these characters, so much. :)

MESS, sorta NSFW probably, sneezing on person (who likes it) - Elven sorcerer Llewellyn gets his hands stuck to a magic orb while he has a cold and has to be taken care of by his FWB(?) half-elf fighter Gerrit Truestride who gets off on that sort of thing. 

I fricking forgot Gerrit’s last name. This might be it??

---

"Okay, we don't know what we're dealing with here, so let's be careful." Gerrit pushed open the heavy wooden door and lifted his torch to illuminate the room inside. The firelight played over several tables covered in intriguing objects and glinted teasingly off of more than one hint of gold. Gerrit himself spotted a stolid wooden chest in the corner and his heart rate quickened. "Jackpot," breathed Remembrance, the party's resident ne'er-do-well. She rubbed her hands together, sharp nails clicking. Gerrit was sure she was assigning price tags to the lot of it, except for whatever she hid in her bags for herself, of course. "I know a guy in the capitol who'll pay through the nose for that pervy little statue there." "That is a religious object," chastised Cordes with a haughty tsk. "It's used in rituals of worship for the goddess Fortuna." "Oh, I'm sure he'll be worshipping," cackled Remembrance, and she slipped past Gerrit into the vault. "Few hundred gold and he'll be rubbing out a grand ol' prayer." Her pointed tail waved with greedy delight. "Hey! The proper course of action would be to bring it back to a temple!" Cordes went after her, pushing Gerrit aside. The half-elf grumbled but wasn't surprised. "At least TRY not to touch anything cursed," he called. He'd been the one to organize this little band, but although he was the one who reported to their patron, he had precious little influence over what they did. They were happy to point to him when some upstart had a problem with the party, though. Ingrates. He turned to the last member of the group. "What about you, Llewellyn? I thought I saw some books on the far table."

"Lead the way," replied the sorcerer, and his usually mellifluous voice sounded strained. Purple shadowed the hollows under his faintly luminous silver eyes, and he had his nose tucked into his handkerchief again. Gerrit hadn't spent much time around full elves, but he'd always believed they couldn't get sick, at least not like a human or dwarf. Llewellyn had been dragging since Saints' Day, though, and seemed to have come down with a flu. His skin, where visible under his fitted robes, was wan. "Sure," said Gerrit, and he stepped into the room, holding the door out so that Llewellyn could join him. "You, uh, you don't look like you're feeling any better." "Oh," said the sorcerer, "I'm not. I ran out of tonics." He entered the vault and walked over to one of the tables, investigating a strangely shaped glass bowl. "But as we were already down here, I'm not sure what you want me to say. There's no inn at which I might rest my weary bones."  "Cordes could make you an herbal remedy," Gerrit grumped. He went over to the chest he'd seen earlier and smashed the lock off with the pommel of his dagger. He didn't need any fancy lockpicking tools like Remembrance's. And hitting something felt good when his companions were all intent to be annoying, acerbic, or both. "I suppose," Llewellyn replied, sounding uncertain as his voice wavered. Gerrit tried to ignore the way his ears heated at that. That was the tone that overtook the elf when he was preparing to sneeze. It wasn't any of Gerrit's concern. His occasional roll in the hay (literal and figurative) with Llewellyn did not make it easier or more appropriate to acknowledge his odd attractions, especially since they were currently ransacking a dungeon with a priest and a psychopath. He focused his attention on searching the chest, and he was rewarded with a heavy coin purse, a stack of calfskin-bound journals, and a ruby the size of a robin's egg. He whistled. Llewellyn gasped. "Hah- hahttsch-ow!" "'Ow'?" Cordes appeared from behind a bookshelf, one arm wrapped tightly around a thick rug, the other reaching for his pack of salves. "What is it? Cut? Burn?" When Gerrit looked, their sorcerer was rubbing his nose with his left hand. "Bruise," Llewellyn said. He lifted his right hand, in which he held a blue crystal orb that was knotted inside a thin lattice of gold chain. "I got my hand caught." He'd apparently run the thing into his nose when trying to cover his sneeze. Llewellyn's thin face was already dusted pink from the embarrassment. Gerrit couldn't help but laugh. "Very graceful," he chuckled. "I will thank you for keeping it to yourself," Llewellyn replied, and that was elvish dialect for "fuck you." Gerrit laughed again.  Cordes had leaned over to see the orb better in the firelight. He was the only one among them whose vision was hindered by the dim light. "What kind of artifact is this?" he asked. "It doesn't resemble anything I've studied." "I'm not sure." Llewellyn held it up to the torch. The orb lit up like a lamp, but otherwise nothing happened. "Whatever this chain is, though, it's very prone to tangling." He tried to shake it off his wrist and failed. This was a task for both hands, and he set to freeing himself. And kept trying. And trying. Gerrit frowned. "What are you doing? Cordes, would you get that off of him?" "Sure." The priest reached out to help, but Llewellyn suddenly backed away out of reach. "Uh... I'm not trying to steal it, elf." "Oh, I would let you take it," Llewellyn said, scowling. "But I have a feeling we would be in for some trouble if you touch it now." He held up both hands. His palms were wrapped around the crystal and bound with the ball in that thin gold chain. "I am... I'm stuck."

---

"STUCK," hooted Remembrance again. She was crouched at the entrance to the dungeon - a root-cellar-like set of doors they'd found in a small bandit settlement - and hauling out a heavy pack stuffed with loot. In the daylight, she looked menacing and out of place, her horns, dusky maroon skin tone, and black eyes setting her apart from this land's primarily human residents. "And you even said not to touch any curses!" "I recall you said so as well," said Cordes, who looked exactly like a run-of-the-mill human resident except for the star-like scar on his left temple. He reached down and grabbed Gerrit's hand, steadying the half-elf as he climbed out of the hole. Llewellyn was hanging uncomfortably on Gerrit's back, arms looped around the other man's neck. They'd tried to find a more dignified way to get him out of the dungeon, but he couldn't manage the ladder well enough without the use of his hands. "The artifact didn't react to my detection spell," sniffed Llewellyn disdainfully, and Gerrit was quick to set him down before that sniffing could become another sneeze. He didn't want to blush in front of the others. "There must be someone in Veigh who can help you," Gerrit said. "We'll just swing by on our way to the capitol." The city was three days out of their way, but they couldn't have Llewellyn stuck this way for the two week trip back to their patron. With his hands bound, he couldn't cast any spells that required him to gesture, and that was almost all of them. He'd effectively rendered himself completely useless in combat. Veigh had a chapter of the Mages Guild in residence, though, and if no one there could help, they might at least be able to send Llewellyn on ahead via a transportation spell.  "I will hope there is." Llewellyn looked pale and worn, though his fine features still exuded the otherworldly beauty of the high elves. His hair was a silky black, although mostly covered by his hood, and the contrast made his silver eyes look even more curious. He fumbled for a minute at his waist before scowling heavily. "I can't get into any of my bags, of course..." "What do you need?" asked Gerrit. Remembrance had started off through the trees, humming, her bulging pack swaying with her sinuous movements. Gerrit really didn't want to let her get too far ahead, not least because she was scary good at concealing herself in the foliage and might slip the party completely. However, Cordes was with her, and Llewellyn couldn't exactly fend for himself right now. "My handkerchief..." The elf's voice had gone wavery again, and Gerrit watched as his nostrils flared. Fuck. Gerrit hurriedly patted his pockets until he produced his own handkerchief, or what he bothered with when necessary. It was a large square of flannel, rough around the edges. It wasn't embroidered or monogrammed like Llewellyn's, but he figured by now the flannel was a hell of a lot cleaner, and it was soft for an irritated nose. "Here, take mine." Llewellyn held out his hands plus the orb for it, breath hitching, but no matter how Gerrit tried to drape the cloth, it kept slipping off of the artifact. He supposed he could try to tie it around the- Llewellyn made a desperate sound and tipped his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. His breath was coming in soft pants now. And he was raising the orb reflexively.  Gerrit couldn't let him whack himself in the face again, so he did the only other thing he could think of. With one hand he reached out and took Llewellyn by the shoulder. With the other, he lifted the handkerchief and pressed it over the elf's nose. His fingers settled firmly on either side of Llewellyn's nostrils, and none too soon. After another half-hitch, Llewellyn ducked forward again with a quiet but insistent sneeze. "Happtsch! Gerrit was sure he was beet red. “Bless you,” he mumbled. Through the cloth, Llewelyn’s nose felt hot, and any gentle pressure resulted in a bit of a squish. “Let me just…” "Whh- wait-" Llewellyn leaned into the handkerchief. "I'm nh- I'm not done hhH-" His eyes slipped shut and he gasped again. Gerrit swallowed and tried to ignore the tenting of his breeches. "R-roger that." He could feel Llewellyn's nostrils twitching against his fingers. "Hh...Haah- Hapttschuh! Snrk... Aptschiu!" His body rocked, and he took a half-step forward. Gerrit could hear the thick sound of congestion in the elf's nose as he tried to stave off another sneeze. "Blow your nose," he said. "It will help." Llewellyn hesitated, but in the end, he had to comply. There was nowhere for the mucus to go except out. He started to blow with a gurgle. Gerrit moved the hand from his shoulder to start rubbing Llewellyn's back. The handkerchief and his fingers were rapidly growing damp, but he really didn't mind. "There you go."  He held the handkerchief to Llewellyn's nose until the elf moved back on his own. His nose was red and tender looking, and his cheeks were flushed rosy. He didn't seem to want to meet Gerrit's eyes. Gerrit didn't mention it. He didn't really want to look at Llewellyn either right now. It had been a while since the elf had looked so very fuckable.  He put the handkerchief in an easily-accessible outside pocket of his vest.  "Ready to go?"  Llewellyn coughed lightly. "Yes." "Excellent." Gerrit gestured for Llewellyn to precede him, and the two of them headed out through the trees, following the sounds of Cordes negotiating the underbrush and swearing about it. --- Travel proved easy enough once they made it to the road. They were fortunate not to meet anyone else along the way. The party could handle a group of bandits without their sorcerer, but they had their treasure to worry about, and Remembrance always drew stares, and sometimes aggression, even from normal travelers. Gerrit thought her skills more than made up for the extra negative attention they drew. And anyway, Remembrance was crazy but she wasn't evil. She did better out on the road than in town, but that was probably true of all of them. Llewellyn kept up with her pace, but it was clearly a struggle. He was usually fairly quiet, but he didn't speak at all as they walked, focusing on breathing and not devolving into coughing or more sneezing. There were a few times when Gerrit hastily reached into his pocket, at the ready, but Llewellyn fought back the itch with admirable determination. He kept his nose from running by sniffling heavily, which sounded somewhere between awful and revolting. Cordes commented on it multiple times with disgust, but nothing could be done. Llewellyn held his tongue, and Gerrit was reluctant in this case to offer the handkerchief without being asked. They found a place to camp about half an hour outside the small village of Tewks. Remembrance cleared out some brush to make a flat area for the bedrolls and then promptly decided she'd rather sleep in a tree with everything she owned. She found a good, solid oak a few yards from the camp and ensconced herself in the crux of its branches. She had a good view of the road in either direction and volunteered to take the second watch in the middle of the night, which was her favorite time. Gerrit agreed to take the first watch as Cordes started to set up his tent. The priest refused to sleep on the ground and always took an extra fifteen minutes to erect a curious one-person canvas canopy. It wasn't even large enough to sit up inside, but whatever. The priest never asked anyone else to haul it along, so Gerrit wouldn't complain. These arrangements left him and Llewellyn alone together on one side of the fire, and he supposed that was preferable during the orb situation anyway. Llewellyn couldn't handle his own bedroll, help with the fire, or unpack any of their supplies. Gerrit realized he would probably have to help the elf eat, too. And... Well, when he noticed Llewellyn fidgeting uncomfortably, Gerrit took him out into a thicker copse to see to his other needs. They didn't talk about it... Llewellyn could hardly undo his own buttons, though, and it wasn't the first time Gerrit had taken over. By the time the fire was hot enough to cook over, Llewellyn had tucked himself up to sit on a tree stump, exuding an aura of furious self-reproach. Cordes took some jerky into his tiny tent with him - for some reason. Gerrit made up two bowls of pottage and sat himself on the ground at the roots of the stump. He put one bowl on the ground for himself and then held up the other. "Hungry?" "Not particularly," Llewellyn replied, voice blunted with congestion. He coughed. "But you're going to make me eat something, aren't you." "I'd prefer you do it willingly." Gerrit tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl. "Come on. It's hot. You'll feel better." Llewellyn growled in a manner more suited to orcs than elves. "I feel like an invalid." Gerrit sighed. "Well, if it makes you feel better, we can pretend you lost your arms in an owlbear attack very tragically." He could feel Llewellyn's fiery glare on him and smiled a little. "Look, we've all done stupid things while adventuring. I'm sure you remember when I tripped and knocked myself out on that knight's shield during the tournament." "I remember," replied the elf, begrudgingly. "Besides, you're sick on top of the whole orb thing. Maybe your detection spell wasn't sensitive enough. Maybe the thing's not even cursed! Maybe it's supposed to do this, and we just don't know why." "I have a hard time believing that. What possible purpose could this serve?"  Gerrit shrugged. "Don't ask me. Dad says my mother was a druid, but I haven't got a magical bone in my body." He tilted his head. "We could always try smashing it?" Llewellyn's rejection was forceful. "Do you want to explode?!" Gerrit chuckled. "Not really." Llewellyn sighed. Gerrit held out a spoonful of pottage. Feeding both Llewellyn and himself was a bit difficult, but Gerrit did well enough when he could alternate. It would be better if he could use both hands equally like Cordes, but he couldn't, and so he didn't. He just thought about it wistfully as he worked. Llewellyn ended up eating most of his bowl, then went back to sitting quietly and sniffling. Gerrit finished the rest and put the utensils aside to deal with later. And... Even though Llewellyn hadn't asked, he drew out his handkerchief again. "Hey," he began, trying not to sound awkward. "You wanna blow your nose?" No one else was paying attention and Llewellyn didn't need to inhale any more of that crap. The elf gave him a shitty side-eye. "Come on," said Gerrit. "Don't be like this." He patted the ground in front of him encouragingly as if Llewellyn was a recalcitrant cat. "I'm fine," said Llewellyn, and then betrayed himself with a quick breath. "Hah--" "Come on," Gerrit repeated, "before you make a mess." Llewellyn came down off the stump to sit in front of him, legs tucked underneath, and rested the orb on Gerrit's thigh to balance himself. His eyes were pinched with reluctance, but Gerrit could see that the elf's nostrils were already damp. "Hah- hh- hurry," Llewellyn gasped. Again, Gerrit reached out with the handkerchief, enfolding his companion's nose. He could feel Llewellyn's breath fluttering against his hand through the fabric and hear quite clearly how it kept catching on congestion.  "Hah-hngk- Hahgkttscht!" Llewellyn ducked forward with the force of it and Gerrit steadied him with a hand on his hip. "Ngkttsch! Hnggktxch!!" Gerrit bit his lip sharply to keep from saying anything, but his body was singing with arousal. Llewellyn hiccuped a short gasp and Gerrit pulled the handkerchief away to present a clean corner. The current spot had become soaked and silvery. "Bless," he managed after a moment, and he carefully readjusted the cloth. "Are you going to sneeze again?" Llewellyn nodded, eyes teary with the effort of the first bunch. Gerrit wasn't surprised; the elf had been holding back since they left the dungeon. He couldn't imagine it had been comfortable, but Llewellyn had his pride. He never would let Gerrit give him love bites either. Annnd Gerrit was going to have to stop thinking about that. "Haptsch!" Easier said than done. Really. But Llewellyn's comfort came first. "Hahkptsch!" The sorcerer groaned softly. "Hah- hh- Hgnaptscxhx!"  Gerrit did his best to assist Llewellyn through the fit. He kept the handkerchief secure, moving it when necessary to keep it dry enough. He steadied the elf when the sneezes bent his body or when he felt faint from lack of breath. He even massaged Llewellyn's nose for him when he was trying to blow it and the congestion was stubbornly refusing to move. By the time he felt finished enough to lean back, Llewellyn was flushed and light-headed, swaying where he sat. Gerrit was sweating and needed a towel. "........Thanks," murmured Lleyellyn, eventually. "Yeah," said Gerrit. "Sure." He swallowed. "Let's wash up." He helped Llewellyn to his feet and they went a little way to a creek (generously; it was little more than a ditch through the woods). Gerrit gently washed Llewellyn's face, careful of his tender eyes and nose, and sent him back to camp to lay down for the night. He lingered at the water's edge to wash the handkerchief and, well, to take other matters in hand. Llewellyn was completely out when he returned, and Gerrit was grateful. He smoothed the elf's bangs back and then settled beside the fire to take watch. The woods in the dark were full of the sounds of insects and small animals moving in the undergrowth. And Llewellyn snoring and sniffling in his sleep. Safe sounds. Gerrit rested his chin on his hand and looked toward the road. Damn orb. It was going to be a long way to Veigh.

Blood For Gold Chapter 13

Wooo! It has been a while dearies. Let's see, my baby sister's husband, so my brother in law got diagnosed with Lupis which at this point is a relief that it's not his cancer coming back so there's that. My parents rushed down to AZ to be with my dying grandparents and are trying to let them pass from the comfort of their home without having to go into a nursing home, hospice called us and said 'you should come down and say goodbye while they still know who you are' so we all rushed down to do just that and I just came back from a week down there doing that which was emotionally draining and devastating. My other sister's dog tore a ligament and needs a 5k surgery to fix it. This particular sister has no kids and her dogs are her kids, which is perfectly reasonable and valid. And my Chron's Disease is flaring and trying to kill me for the...I've lost count of how many times it's tried to kill me for the 25 years I've had it, (I'm 35, just to put that into perspective) and I have an emergency colonoscopy on the 6th that I need to prepare for.

So sorry for the delay on updating this story, I've been meaning to update this for A VERY LONG TIME and mentally I knew exactly how I wanted to write it, I just had no time, energy, drive or opportunity to write UNTIL TODAY. So you are getting this hot off the presses and I want to pick up and GO GO GO before my life completely falls apart.

Again so many thanks to @kriskukko for letting me use her still gorgeous, still amazing, still epic REGENCY ERA ORC ART. Just...still in love with it.

Thanks to @punkhorse96 for all your amazing feedback. Now, we get into THE DANGER ZONE. Much plot, so sex, big TORN. Enjoy. *evilly cackles*

Blood For Gold

Chapter 13

Your family completely monopolated your time the moment they came and wouldn’t let you out of their sight and you couldn’t get a moment’s peace or solace, except when it came time for the masquerade ball at the Midnight Peacock, then everyone seemed to disappear and leave you alone to change and you couldn’t hardly wait for tonight, Axal told you that The Red Velvet Rope was hosting this particular masquerade ball so all of the brothel’s workers would be there along with almost all the other moura individuals in all of London would be there tonight.

It was going to be your first time going and you had brought out your new masquerade dress that you had made in your “widowhood” because while you recovered from your mourkatilli addiction, and healed from the other trauma and abuse, you needed a project to keep you occupied.

It was a special one, it was reversible with a twist. It was really four outfits in one. A skirt with two different layers, and each layer was reversible and a top that was sewn and embroidered in such a way that it was four tops in one, each one to also coincide with one of the layers of the skirt. So if you wore it “normally” and “inside out” and “right side in” on each layer, you would have four unique outfits and you had embroidered all four layers in two of the styles of tops, when not being worn on the outside would roll up and give you something of a push up bra, so that it would appear in such a way that it would look like one scene one way and in the reverse, a completely different one but still in the same shapes in an elevated double embroidered piece. It was some of your best work to date. And you had a fabric mask pinned into each skirt so that the masks you wore changed with it, and you wore your hair in such a way that it could change, from up, to half up and half down to fully down and in a variety of ways and Axal had told you that Ramsey had confided in him that the place had “changing” rooms where you could change your outfit as needed, in case you needed to change yourself throughout the night. So you left the Palace of Windsor in one of your more “flashy” and luxurious facets, complete with a cape that was also reversible with your family.

Once at the place you immediately left your family and “changed” into the most simple and understated of the four, a black embroidered top and simple black skirt with no embroidery, it was simple yet elegant and began looking for Demsey Draft, because you needed to warn him about the other mouras that had come as well break off any connection with him so that you couldn’t be implicated later because the last thing you wanted was for Duke Demsey Voyambi to know that you had ever set foot in a whorehouse. You wanted him to feel and know that if the attraction you had to him was returned by him, that you would be loyal to him and he would have your complete fidelity and you would leave Mr. Demsey Draft where you found him, in your hopefully long forgotton past. A woman was allowed to go a little wild in her mourning right?

Meanwhile Demsey had done the same, only he didn’t have any reversible outfits, instead he went straight to the “coat room” and “rented” a change of clothes, he had to find Audra Draft and break things off with her, and solely pursue Sultana Audravienne.

And like clock work, only moments after going around the place, looking for Mr. Draft, when you found your prize, coming out of the changing room, dressed how you thought he’d be, simple, rather plain but dignified.

“Mr. Demsey Draft?” You asked once you found him.

“Miss Audra Draft,” He smiled in relief that he found her, or rather, that she had found him although why she insisted on calling his last name of Draft, maybe she was trying to give him a pseudonym to protect his real identity as you were thinking the exact same thing, although tonight would be the last time you would ever answer to such a name as your moura marks lit up like fireworks again, practically glowing and pulsing through your clothes and on your skin as Demsey flushed with desire because that was going to be one of the many things he was going to miss about Miss Draft.

“Might we have a word?” You asked, even though your heart was screaming for one last release with him before you cut things off with him completely.

“Yes, by all means.” He agreed as you took his hand and led him away to a private booth in the little restaurant side of the place as most had gathered in the dance hall and were already beginning to dance the night away.

“Before anything else, I must tell you that after tonight I must break all contact with you, you see, I’m going to be pursuing a very wonderful woman, and I can not do so with any prior attachments or engagements, she is the kind of woman who deserves whole hearted and whole souled devotion.” He began as your heart was relieved and happy for him but broke at the news as your moura marks stopped pulsing and flashing, instead, simply faded to a rose gold then stopped which broke Demsey’s heart to see as he recalled how the Sultana's marks flashed rose gold when she was upset or sad. It still must have been a universal moura thing, he supposed.

“Well isn’t that a coincidence, I came to find you to tell you something similar. I also found someone, a wonderful man actually, who I wish to pursue whole heartedly and without reserve.” You replied.

“So...The Red Velvet Rope is no longer…” Demsey began.

“Part of my life? No. Never, you?” You asked.

“Same, I will never set foot into it again.” He professed.

“Probably for the best. So, I know you wish to probably keep certain things private, and I don’t expect you to tell me who it is that has captured your attentions and affections, and whoever she is, I can only hope and pray that she is worthy of them.” You offered, feeling much more than a pang in your heart, much more than you were expecting anyway, the whole day you had prepared yourself for this moment, rehearsing what it was that you wanted to say to him. He was, after all, just a manwhore in a whorehouse, you shouldn’t have any real emotional connection with him and it should be easy to walk away, but now that it was happening, your heart, soul and body screamed for the reverse. It felt like it had been too long since you got to hold him in your arms, kiss his sweet mouth and marvel at the way his body seemed to always meld and mold to yours and bring you the sweetest of releases.

“Thank you, and likewise.” Demsey graciously offered.

“Out of curiosity, you don’t have to answer if you don’t wish to, but the woman you are going to be pursuing, is she an orc like you?” You asked curiously.

“No, she’s actually, um,” Demsey began before he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“She’s moura.” Demsey confessed.

“Oh, well in that case...I know...or rather, I have heard.” You rephrased, not wanting to tell on yourself too much as Demsey smiled sadly at you as you cast your gaze away from him guiltily as you felt tears prick your eyes as a strange panic seemed to grip your chest.

“I have heard that there are many mouras here, and new ones have come into England fairly recently. Please beware, there are some mouras who are not “typical” and perfectly lovely and good people and others who are actually true to the typical type cast. Surely you have heard the saying that “a moura’s beauty is always outmatched by their greed for wealth and power.” There are some who prove that saying false, and some who prove it true. Please beware of the latter and make sure that the woman who has caught your eye is the former, for only ruination follows the latter’s footsteps.” You tried to gently warn him, fearful he had seen Benny and fallen in love with her like any other orc male had.

“I will, and if you will do me the same honor. Would you tell me what kind of man has caught your attentions and affections?” Demsey asked, even though part of him didn’t want to know and part of him was wishing it was a proper moura, so she would be with her own kind who would understand and sympathize with her and treat her the way she deserved, which was an invaluable treasure, whether she was "tainted" or not.

“He’s an orc. Although I do not know if he leans more towards the old orcish ways and culture or if he will hold true to the English ones although I guess there are some things that are similar in both cultures. I am at a loss as to how to pursue him and what will reach him and prove that myself and my own intentions are true, and how to prove to him that I’m one of the atypical moura’s unless he has already judged me to be typical then I am at a loss for I know at least one member of his family already has but I’m hoping he does not share their views. Because first impressions are usually the most firmly set and hardest to prove otherwise, no matter the word or deed.” You confessed and Demsey felt his rage begin to flare, the moura before him was clearly not the power hungry type. Anyone with half a wit could discern that about her, much less see it with their own eyes.

“Is he….is he a commoner or is he gentry?” Demsey asked, feeling actual panic whirling in his chest, he knew his brother had gone to The Red Velvet Rope and if Sierge had found her, he could be charming and could talk his way into any woman’s knickers if he really tried but Sierge would no sooner bed her before he shamed her for doing so. Sierge was his brother but Sierge was also a rake and downright dangerous to any woman’s honor.

“He is in the gentry. That’s why it gives me pause, so far he has been a dream, a perfect gentleman and he comes from a good family and noble business. There is nothing about him that gives me hesitation except that I do not know if he shares the attraction. He may just be very polite and friendly and I’m reading too far into his gestures or he may already share his opposing family’s views of what a moura can typically be. But...he’s worth pursuing if he does share the attraction, I was hoping I would find him tonight and I could feel him out for it, if not, there are others that are pursuing me. And...I don’t know how much longer I can hold out, or if...if I should just forget all of it and be better off alone.” You confessed as your own panic settled in that you would never see the man across from you in this tiny little booth, barely big enough for two, ever again. It was like you were magnetically drawn to him and you were helpless to fight against it in his company.

“But in any case, I will miss you, and I will remember our brief moments together with fondness.” You offered as you fought the tears in your eyes as your gold moura marks faded to a dull brass color, Demsey had never seen anything like it before, it gave him the most worry, since he had almost become accustomed to reading the Sultana’s marks like her facial expressions.

“You are too good.” Was all Demsey could say, his own heart breaking that he was going to lose, forever, the one other woman he felt any real connection to.

“So are you. Whoever she is, if she ever gets to bed you, she’s in for a treat.” You tried to tease with a grin but the bittersweetness in your eyes cut him to the core.

“Goodbye Mr. Draft, may life treat you well and may the woman who captured your attention be worthy and return it and show you the same loyalty and respect you will surely show her.” You offered as you did your best to get out of the small booth to get away before you cried your eyes out right there at the table as you damned yourself for being unduly attached to a manwhore in a whorehouse rather than Duke Demsey Voyambi who you were sure was probably a much better man but still, your heart already ached at Demsey Draft’s absence.

He seemed to take your cue and got out of the booth as well as you curtsied in place as he bowed respectfully before you turned on your heel and tried to get away.

But you had barely taken two steps before Demsey quickly took three steps to catch your arm in his hand which caused you to stop and turn and turn right into his other hand that framed your face and brought it to his own as he gave the hottest, most soul scorching kiss of your life and you’d be lying through your teeth if you tried to say that you protested. Your body betrayed you as you kissed him back and glued yourself to him as your marks revived and started to pulse and flash again.

“One last time?” Desmey pleaded when you broke for air.

“One last time.” You readily agreed before you grabbed his hand again, saw along a far wall a room with the words “pairs dressing room” above the doorway and quickly ran with Demsey following you, his hand tightly grasping yours, weaving through the crowd and pushed a five pound note into the abbess’s hand and took the last available “pair’s changing booth” which was really just sex booth with a bench in it as you pushed Demsey to sit down as you readily straddled his lap as he undid his pants as you hiked up your skirts and stripped out of your Dorierran panties and seated yourself onto him and began to ride him in earnest as he partially undressed you, undoing your top and tossing it aside, still marveling at your moura moura marks as they pulsed and glittered even in the low light as your eyes practically glowed gold as well in the lower light of the darkened closet since there was only a lone candle burning in the corner as his hands went under your skirts and grabbed good handfuls of your arse and helped move your pelvis over himself so that your ground down deliciously before reattaching his mouth to yours and kissed you for all he was worth, pouring every ounce of his heart and soul into it before leaving hot, lisentious kisses on your neck and chest, capturing those oh so precious pulse points as you undid his collar so you could feast on his own neck and chest and once it was revealed you bit down his neck as he growled dangerously and hissed in pleasure and moaned when you soothed your mark with your tongue before inflicting a second, a third, and fourth and losing count after that as your mouth then moved to his collar bone and his very sensitive nipples, which he did appreciate your attention to as he did the same to you, because for this brief moment, you were his, for the last time, he was going to leave evidence that you were his, for this all too brief, but glorious moment, that nothing else mattered but your pleasure and once you shuddered and keened as your legs shook from the first orgasm as your moura marks lit up the room and glowed like soft sunshine as the orgasm seemed to flood your senses, he was picking you up and pinning you against the wall and driving up into you almost mercilessly but you loved every bit of it as you clung to him.

“Please Demsey, my dearest, darling Demsey, please, cum in me, fill me.” You pleaded desperately into his ear as you were near tears from how amazing and spectacular this was.

“Not yet.” Demsey cooed in your ear.

“Demsey please.” You begged as you felt another orgasm approaching and he still would not stop and that one nearly made you black out from pure ecstacy as the room lit up even brighter because that orgasm was bigger and more intense than the last and then he set your practically limp body down on the bench and went to his knees and replaced his cock with his mouth onto your already overly sensitive sex and ate you out like it was his first real meal after months of fasting as he settled your legs over his shoulders as the light that continued to pulse and glitter on your moura marks on your thighs and legs and lower belly provided all the light he needed as you laid back onto the bench as your pelvis rested in his hands as he moved you how he wanted you and you were powerless to stop him as a third orgasm bloomed in your body and lit up the room like a fire had started inside it as you did your best to hold onto your very soul so that it would not leave your body completely as you cried out in almost painfully blissful ecstasy as your hands gripped the edge of the bench pitifully, your knuckles going white, not caring in the least who could hear you and that’s when he finally relented and had you sit in his lap on the floor, with your bare chests touching and caressing the other and there was so much love and tenderness in his desperation to fuck you senseless as he held you fast to him and drove up into you and upon the fourth orgasm, the biggest and brightest of them all, did he finally relent and fill you so full it overflowed and you spent the longest moment just clinging to each other, neither of you wanting to let go of the other as you both basked in the ever so intense afterglow as the light from your moura marks slowly faded to nothing as once was desperation, was replaced with tenderness, softness and sweetness was you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the waves and subtle curls in his thick, luscious locks as your fingertips scratched ever so deliciously on his scalp as he scratched your back in turn, savoring every precious second of having you in his arms, trying to commit every detail to memory, not wanting anything to go missing when he would want to recall this later. Whether it would torture him or bring him fondness or joy, only time would tell.

Soon though, there was a gentle knock on the door.

“You two alive in there?” Came the abbess’ call.

“Yes, we’re almost done. Just a moment please.” You answered back as you reached around him and adjusted your mask back into place since it had become slightly askew so that he would not discover your true identity as he seemed to do the same before you reluctantly untangled from each other and helped get each other get redressed and recomposed.

“Goodbye Mr. Draft, it was always a pleasure.” You offered as you took his hands and kissed his knuckles tenderly before you left the small room and quickly weaved your way through the crowd to the other end of the Midnight Peacock to get changed into another side of your outfit, this time, one of the lighter, more luxurious ones as you took a vial of perfume that was in your necklace and put some around your neck and chest to cover up any “evidence” of Mr. Draft’s presence on your body even though you had taken a moment to savor the scent of it one last time as Demsey seemed to do the same, changing out of his “rented” second outfit and back into his original one that he came in wearing and didn’t care to notice how the outfit seemed to be given to another orc who had come in, this one, more bluish in color who quickly changed into it to enjoy the party himself once Demsey had traded it in for his old clothes at the counter.

“Is there a bar here?” He asked the person overseeing the single dressing rooms once he came out redressed in his original outfit.

“Yes, it’s right through there, you can’t miss it.” She answered as he followed her direction to find a young lady, dressed is discrete luxury already sitting at the bar, drinking absinthe.

“Sultana Audravienne?” Demsey took a chance and asked which perked you up as you turned to see him.

“Duke Voyambi, I thought you would be dancing.” You offered, even though, your legs were still jelly from Mr. Draft’s endeavors.

“Usually, yes, but um, tonight, I’m not...I’m not really inclined to dance.” Demsey confessed because he was worn out but also he just let the greatest lover of his life so far slip through his fingers and he was in no mood to dance.

“I’ll be honest, neither am I, would you like to join me?” You offered.

“Yes, I’d love to.” He readily agreed.

“Well it seems since we both seemed to guess who the other is, there is little point of these then is there?” You asked as you pointed to the second mask you had pinned into the top you were currently sporting.

“No there isn’t.” Demsey readily agreed as both of you took off the masks and set them neatly on the bar as he got up onto the barstool next to you as you had already taken your hair down, letting your thick braid lay down your back.

“Absinthe?” He guessed, looking at the glass you were drinking from and recognizing the green liquid that filled it.

“Yes,” You readily confirmed.

“May I have one?” He asked the bartender who nodded and poured him a small glass of it, letting it pour over a cube of sugar and offered it up to him.

“Is this your first time drinking it?” You asked him.

“Is that obvious?” He asked as he took a few tentative sips.

“Absithe is the only “dangerous” drink they have here.” You answered.

“What would you prefer to be drinking right now then?” Demsey asked.

“Cyanide.” You answered without hesitation before he practically choked on his drink.

“Cyanide?” He repeated as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

“Mouras are immune to poison, remember? Cyanide is to me what wine or whiskey is to you.” You explained.

“But absinthe is still just a little poisonous right?” He asked.

“So is tobacco, but yet that doesn’t stop anyone from smoking it.” You shrugged as you looked out over the already cloudy room, filled with smoke from other patrons practically smoking up like chimney’s.

“Touche.” He had to chuckle.

“Do you like tobacco?” He asked.

“No, although hashish is popular back in the stables, if the sultanate states were still open, alcohol is illegal but hashish which is like tobacco but not quite since it comes from a different plant- is perfectly fine. But both can be hard on your lungs and mouras can be very sensitive to both, but here in England, it just depends on what’s fashionable at the time.” You reasoned as Demsey seemed to nod along with that sentiment as he took a longer sip of his drink.

“True.” Demsey agreed.

“So how are you liking it now?” You asked as you nodded to the drink.

“It’s growing on me.” He admitted.

“Yeah it does. Anything sweet usually does.” You grinned before you heard a cheering boom behind which inclined you to turn around to see what was going on to see Ramsey and Axal flamenco dancing with each other, their feet stomping very fast and rhythmically on the wood floors as Axal was wearing his matador masquerade outfit, it’s bright pink color and bejeweled state catching everyone’s eye but not to be outdone by Ramsey’s equally impressive baby blue one as well as Yalin and especially was cheering her son on while your mother and other members of your family were around cheering Axal on as well as you just shook your head, two peacocks flaunting their feathers at each other as Demsey looked on and just shook his head as well, having already exerted his own herculean amount of energy and spent it on Ms. Draft, wherever she would find herself now, although a quick scan of the crowd, he couldn't see anyone that looked even remotely like her. But he was with who he really should be spending his time with and now that he was with her, it was a different kind of comfort and happiness, but it was sadly tainted by guilt and strangely disappointment that didn’t make a bit of sense. Wasn’t this exactly what he was hoping for? To be with Audra, the real, authentic Audra, somewhat privately and all to himself? Then why, when he looked at her, he kept seeing glimpses of Miss Draft and why was he wishing that he was actually sharing this drink with her? What had happened in that room to change his mind? This morning he had been so sure that Sultana Audravienne was the one for him but something in Miss Draft had him hesitating and it didn’t make any sense at all.

But the way you were looking at Axal and Ramsey, caught his attention, you were...disappointed, or disinterested and clearly unimpressed as you just shook your head and turned back around and finished off your absinthe and got a menu as Demsey asked for one as well before you went ahead and shared yours with him.

“So what sounds good?” You asked him as you looked it over, already picking a few things out in your mind.

“Uh the lamb kebabs sound most appetizing.” Demsey answered before you grinned. It was a Medetteranian dish and right up your alley.

“The lamb kebabs it is then, the portions should be good size too, let’s share.” You suggested.

“Absolutely, I’ll defer to you, order whatever sounds best to you.” Demsey offered which got you to beam happily before the bartender came back and got your order as you went ahead and ordered everything that sounded good to share with Demsey and before you knew it you had taken up a good portion of the bar and had begun sharing a surprisingly good and wonderful meal together.

But what surprised you was how Demsey was correctly eating each dish.

“What?” Demsey asked as you paused in eating to watch him eat.

“It’s just, you’re the first Englishman who has known the right way to eat this. Most have no idea you’re supposed to use the bread instead of a knife and fork.” You explained as you copied his movements, using the bread to dip into the different sauces, scoop up the rice and the bits of grilled meats before bringing it to your mouth.

“Uh, well…” Demsey stuttered as he flushed with some embarrassment, because it had been Miss Audra Draft who introduced him to these dishes and had shown him the proper way to eat them. But he couldn’t tell you that, for fear you would think less of him for visiting a whorehouse, because the thought of you thinking less of him was worth than anything else he could imagine at the moment.

“Uh, there’s some orc dishes that are similar in how they’re eaten, it just...seemed natural and the right way to eat it?” He supplied, hoping you couldn’t see right through him.

“Some things just make sense I suppose.” You shrugged, having thought you’d have to explain everything but instead both of you had just dived right in.

“They do.” Demsey nodded as he quickly tried to stuff his mouth so he wouldn’t say anything else.

“So um, you obviously know much more about this cuisine, what can you tell me about it?” He asked after he swallowed.

“Well since you asked…” You grinned happily before you went through it again as Demsey was struck by how similar Miss Draft and you were, so similar in voice and mannerisms and gestures. It was almost like he was sitting next to her again as his heart almost strangely ached for her. But that was not fair to you. You were not her and she was not you. But the dishes themselves must be common knowledge among all mouras, he supposed.

But you couldn’t help but notice that while Demsey was still watching you and listening the best he could, the look in his eye and in his expression, it was like he was missing someone and you began to fear that there was perhaps another in his life, someone he had known before you ever met him. Someone his sisters did not know and maybe before Kate Whitesale. But one who clearly knew the Sultanate Quarter or Hanging Garden Quarter rather, of the stables because that’s where these dishes came from. What if the only reason he liked you, was that you were the legitimate copy of what he really desired? There were so many more mouras here in England than you realized and more than a few were a striking resemblence to you and most of whom, were actually commoners. What if you were the gentrified version of what he really wanted?

That would make sense. What if he came here, looking for her and couldn’t find her and instead settled for your company?

“Are you alright?” You asked.

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine, just...I think the smoke is getting to me in this room too.” He tried to excuse, damning himself for not being completely present with you.

“Can I get a bottle of spiced rum please?” You ordered from the barkeep as you started dumping and piling everything on the largest platter as Demsey took your cue and followed your actions until everything was on the large platter before he paid the tab at the bar before he put the lid over the large platter as you grabbed the bottle of rum and followed you through the place where you found a staircase and climbed up it as Demsey followed you before you found what you were looking for, a balcony on the roof of part of the first floor. And on the balcony is where you found Calla and Tzane already sitting at one of the tables and eating something similar.

“Audra!” Calla called you over as you happily went over and pulled out two chairs before Demsey sat the platter down onto the table.

“I thought you two would be dancing.” Tzane noted as he sat next to Calla, the two of them practically sitting thigh to thigh and as close as could be without actually sitting in the other's lap.

“Not in the mood to dance tonight.” You confessed as you sat down as you noticed that Calla and Tzane had also foregone their masks that were on the table as well as you sat yours down as well as Demsey's since his hands had been full carrying the platter.

“But always in the mood to eat.” Demsey grinned happily as he took the lid off the large platter.

“Oooh, that smells really good.” Tzane praised.

“The Hanging Garden Quarter has some of the best food in all of Dorierra,” Calla grinned.

“Well I think this is too much for the two of us, if you want some, have some,” you readily invited as Tzane and Calla didn’t need to be told twice before they got their plates and loaded them up before they dug in themselves before Calla walked Tzane on how to “properly” eat it as the four of you fell into very easy and wonderful conversation before Calla noticed movement in the balcony of the second floor and her eyes went wide as she grabbed Tzane’s hand under the table and squeezed it hard which got him to look over to her before he followed her line of sight to see Ramsey and Axal making out on the edge of the balcony on the second story as he started to choke on his food.

“You ok?” You asked as Tzane punched Demsey in the leg under the table and subtly pointed in the direction he wanted Demsey to look before Demsey gave the direction a curious look just in time to see Ramsey finish kissing Axal before he went down to his knees and undid Axal’s pants and started to suck him off right there on the balcony and choked on his own food as well before you reached over and pat his back.

“You ok there Demsey?” You asked, concern clearly written on your face and in your voice before you head Axal groan a moan which caused you to turn your head just as Axal seemed to notice who was around and moved so that Ramsey was between himself and the balcony that looked down over the first balcony so that Ramsey was hidden from the view from below.

“Hey Axal,” You waived happily, pretending to be oblivious as Demsey, Tzane and Calla looked in horror at each other.

“Hey Audra.” Axal waived.

“Getting your cock sucked by the son of Pharoh?” You asked in Arabic since you knew Axal well enough to know that pleasured look on his face and didn’t want the rest of the table to know that you knew what was really going on.

“Yes.” He confirmed.

“Well enjoy the night air, it’s a nice night tonight, keep everyone out of my hair, I’m with who I want to spend the evening with.” You called back in Marinai as Calla tried to recapture her composure.

“Will do!” Axal called back with two thumbs up.

“Uh...what...what did you say to him?” Demsey asked you as he tried to keep composed himself as Tzane was trying to gulp down the rest of the wine he had gotten for himself and Calla, down from the bottle.

“I asked if he was enjoying the night air, and when he said yes, I told him to keep enjoying it since it’s beautiful weather we’re having tonight.” You answered sweetly, continuing to act oblivious.

“Yeah, he’s enjoying it alright.” Tzane coughed into his fist as Demsey glared at his little brother as Calla just flushed as she drank down her glass of wine as well.

“Aren’t we all?” You asked with a scheming grin.

“Well, yeah, maybe not as much as he is though.” Tzane answered as he kept his gaze down at his plate before he tried to fill his mouth with food to keep himself from saying anything else as Demsey glared dangerously at Tzane before Benny and Sierge came out to the balcony as Benny was taking her hair down from its original style as the two still had that giddy, love drunk look with each other as it was clear that a tryst had just transpired between the two.

“Oh hey guys.” Sierge greeted cheerfully, as he came over before you scooted closer to Demsey who also scooted closer to Tzane so that Benny and Sierge would have room at the table.

“Oh good, you guys already ordered food, we worked up quite the appetite on the dancefloor.” Sierge said as he grabbed unused plates from the next table over and gave one to Benny before he helped himself the spread on the table.

“Among other places.” Benny cooed with a playful wink to Sierge who ducked his head and grinned bashfully as you simply smiled knowingly as you gave Benny a meaningful look and she gave a subtle nod that had you nodding along with her.

“Good.” You simply noted as you happily dug into your own food.

It wasn’t until the bluish orc came out, still wearing the rented suit that Demsey had been wearing earlier with Audra’s essences on it- came onto the balcony too with another lady with him before Sierge sniffed the air, turning his head and sniffing the air deeply in his direction.

“What does your bloodhound nose smell now? Does he have better food or what?” Benny teased Sierge.

“Uh, no, uh, I’ll tell you later.” He told her with a meaningful look as she looked intrigued as he sniffed that scent again before he turned back to the table and began sniffing again before his nose seemed to land on you before he quickly turned his head to stare at the platter of food as his eyes went wide for a moment before he seemed to try to be recomposed.

“Yeah, this food smells the best.” He tried to play off casually but he still gave you a weary look as he looked at Demsey who was staring at him in confusion as Sierge pointedly looked at Demsey, then at you then at the bluish orc then back to Demsey pointedly as Demsey just looked at him in complete confusion but sadly, your parents found you and pulled you back inside because they had requested the Hanging Garden Official Dance Anthem and felt you should dance too just as Ocearian found Axal only moments after Axal had cum down Ramsey’s throat and had gotten redressed and adjusted as you let your mother take your hand and lead you away as Calla and Bennie followed as Sierge grabbed Demsey’s arm to keep him from following along too.

“What?” Demsey asked.

“Audra, the Sultana, she has a lover, he’s that blue orc over there.” Sierge accused.

“What?!” Demsey balked.

“My nose doesn’t lie, I can smell her all over him.” Sierge insisted as Demsey looked from his brother to the orc in question.

“Find out for sure.” Demsey said before he left and quickly tried to catch up to you to see you already on the dance floor, surrounded by family as you all danced the danced in synchronized steps.

“Good evening sir, can I talk with you for a moment?” Sierge asked the gentleman.

“Uh, in case you couldn’t tell I’m kind of busy right now?” The guy answered.

“I’ll give you five pounds for five minutes of your time.” Sierge offered.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” The guy immediately told his companion before he got up and followed Sierge a short distance away.

“What?” He demanded.

“First, what’s your name?” Sierge asked.

“Robert Wainsright.” He answered.

“And your orc name?” Sierge prodded.

“What does it matter?” He protested.

“Ok fine, who have you been with tonight?” Sierge asked.

“Her! That’s the only one I’ve been around all night! Why does that matter?” Robert demanded.

“Because the scent on your clothes says otherwise, now tell me again, have you been intimate with anyone tonight?” Sierge demanded.

“What are you the fucking coppers? What business of yours is it who I’ve been with?” Robert protested.

“Because the smell on your clothes implicates you.” Sierge growled dangerously.

“Implicates me in what? A fucking murder?” Robert demanded angrily.

“You know what, fine, if you say you haven’t been with anyone other than the lady at the table, then I have no choice but to take your word for it, who is she by the way?” Sierge asked as he took out his wallet and began going through his bank notes to find the right one.

“She’s one of the workers for The Red Velvet Rope, she works in the kitchens.” Robert answered as he took the bill from Sierge’s hand.

“Thank you, that’s all I needed to know.” Sierge grinned triumphantly before he left and went back inside to see Demsey watching appreciatively as you danced with your family, with a bright happy smile on your face which brought a fond one to his own hands.

“And?” Demsey pressed Sierge.

“The guy’s name was Robert Wainswright and he claims the only one he was with was the lady he was eating with.” Sierge reported.

“Ok, well maybe your nose is wrong for once.” Demsey nodded and went back to watching you dance and enjoying yourself as Sierge fought with himself whether he should tell his brother or not but now was not the time or place and when the dance ended you ended up pulling Demsey to the floor to dance with you as Demsey, despite previously having no stomach for it, was suddenly all too happy to try to dance along to these strange dances with practically hypnotizing music but the best and yet the worst part was, to see your moura marks on your skin flow, pulse and flash like fireworks was both amazing yet, plagued him with guilt that he, once again, was forced to recall Audra Draft’s marks and how they would do the same thing. He needed to get over her. Maybe it would have been better if he had not seen her tonight and not been drawn in by that vixin's siren's call. Because then he would have focused completely on you. You deserved his undivided attention and affection and having you compete with any other would be a crime against the gods.

But he did feel kind of smug that if Ramsey got any closer to you, he had his own ace up his sleeve, to know that Ramsey was actually having intimate relations with your brother no less, you had told Demsey yourself that you were the jealous type and would not share your partner with anyone, much less a family member and when and if you ever found that out, you would immediately rid yourself of Ramsey for good, all he needed to protect himself from now on was his own implications with Miss Draft and he was as good as gold and as long as you never found that out, he was sure to win your affections honestly and wholeheartedly. Miss Draft had just been a bad mistake, made...thrice, but only thrice and no more.

Demsey didn’t care if he looked ridiculous, he was dancing with you, almost holding you on the dance floor and being so close to you, to have you smiling up at him like he was the only man in the world you had eyes for had his heart soaring and his pride beaming and his possessiveness over you almost insatiable. In this moment, yet again, he was overcome by his gut telling him that you, were the only woman in the world for him and that Miss Draft would from now on, only live in his past, never again in his future.

Pizza Party (2/1/2021)

Alastor gets a part in Hell’s first totally-unauthorized smuggled-down-from-the-living-world production of Hamilton, and he wants to celebrate; Sir Pentious @usedhearts reveals he hasn’t had a meal in A While; Alastor takes the opportunity to come over with pizza to celebrate and moon over Sir Pentious some more in a totally normal very platonic friend way. They talk about Alastor’s part in the show, discuss relocating the airship for further repairs, and Alastor invites Sir Pentious to a Mardi Gras ball. You know. Platonically.

usedhearts

🎩 ALASTOR, I WOULD HATE TO BE A BOTHER BUT I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN TO....EAT....AGAIN HA.....

🎩 I ONCE AGAIN GOT TOO ENGROSSED IN MY WORK IT SEEMS!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh, wonderful, I need someone to celebrate with! In the mood for anything in particular? I’ll probably just harass one of my regular haunts for a couple of plates!

usedhearts

🎩 NO NOTHING PARTICULAR THAT I CAN THINK OF! I WOULD LOVE TO CELEBRATE WITH YOU THOUGH!

🎩 I'M AT THE AIRSHIP! I WILL LOVE TO SHOW YOU THE REPAIRS SO FAR TOO!

🎩 I MAY BE IN THE BATH WHEN YOU ARRIVE, I NEED TO SCRUB OFF ALL THE GREASE AND OIL FROM MY WORKING!

🎩 MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME THOUGH, I WON'T TAKE TOO TERRIBLY LONG!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh!

🎶 Sure sure, that’s fine! Where should I wait?

usedhearts

🎩 THE KITCHEN SEEMS LIKE A GOOD CHOICE! OR THE BRIDGE! WHICHEVER YOU WISH!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Kitchen seems most convenient for a meal, I’ll wait for you there! I’m sure you’d like to give me a tour of the bridge’s repairs, anyway.

usedhearts

🎩 bossman said to tell u that he would like to do that also hi this is egg #310 :)

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Well, hello! Tell your boss I'm bringing pizza. It's quick and it leaves leftovers.

🎶 But quality pizza. Not one of those junk food chains.

usedhearts

🎩 i told him he said that that sounds good! we are helping him scrub off all the grease!! :)

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh.

🎶 Super!

🎶 Be there soon.

usedhearts

🎩 yes, it is! we will see u soon mr radio man! :)

Alastor

Alastor had arrived early with three boxes of pizza and was waiting in the kitchen—not that anyone had probably noticed that yet. He hadn't turned the lights on and he'd been uncharacteristically dead silent since his arrival—listening to the faint sound of singing echoing from elsewhere in the airship.

Sir Pentious

He had good timing, Telly was now out of the bath, mostly dry, and slithering back into his bedroom. He just finished Jolly Sailor Bold and slid immediately into another song. "_I'm a killer, cold and wrathful/Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom/I've murdered half the town/Left you love-notes on their headstones/I'll fill the graveyards until I have you._"

Alastor

Oh, now there was something different. Thus far it had been all show tunes and shanties, but he just barely recognized this one as a modern tune.

It wasn't a pleasant recognition. But he could close his eyes and pretend the song was being sung for him. The thought of being murdered for was... nice.

Was Sir Pentious a little louder? Maybe he was getting closer.

Sir Pentious

Telly slithered about his bedroom, towel wrapped around his hips-- not that he needed it, just a habit really. He headed towards his dresser as he kept singing. "_Moonlight walking, I smell your softness/Carnivorous and lusting to track you down among the pines/I want you stuffed into my mouth/Hold you down and tear you open, live inside you, love/I'd never hurt you/But I'll grind against your bones until our marrows mix/I will eat you slowly..._"

Alastor

Oh, what a beautiful sentiment. Maybe Sir Pentious *was* singing about Alastor—

Ha! Sure, keep dreaming. And try not to drool. He'd just enjoy the performance as long as he could.

Sir Pentious

"_Oh, the horror of our love/Never so much blood pulled through my veins/Oh, the horror of our love... never so much blood._" He spun around the room, belting the song as he put on his shirt. He sang the next few verses, and noticed the kitchen light wasn't on. Alastor must've still been waiting on the food. He slithered through the door singing the end of the song, and flicked on the light-- and was startled to see Alastor's there! His hood flared in surprised before settling instantly. His hand on his chest, he shook his head.

"You startled me, Alastor!"

Alastor

Alastor was so absorbed in listening to the singing—hovering near the doorway, glowing eyes shut as he listened—that he didn't even register that the singing had drawn dangerously close until the lights flashed on. His eyes snapped open. Oh, whoops.

"You think *you're* startled?! Imagine this from my perspective! Here I am, minding my own business lurking in the shadows, when someone turns on the light and flares a cobra hood in my face!" Studio audience laughter.

Alastor gestured with a flourish toward the kitchen table where three pizza boxes are stacked. "Here we are! Someday I'll make something fancy for you, but in the meantime I thought it was more important to get you fed sooner rather than later."

Sir Pentious

Telly was, once again, VERY thankful that he couldn't blush. God, he would be bright red right now if he were still human. He glanced over at the pizzas, barely registering them or what Alastor was saying. He should pay attention, shouldn't he? Yes, but also....Alastor was right here and Telly was feeling oh so warm and cuddly.

And so he indulges his urges a little, moving closer to coil around Alastor and give him a hug. Warm hug from a snake in a t-shirt.

"Congratulations again on your roles! I haven't had the chance to see Hamilton yet, but I'm sure whatever the roles entail, you'll excel at." He didn't want to let go, but his stomach gave a painful sort of twist-- one that came from being empty too long.

"Let's eat, though, I'm starving." He laughed.

Alastor

Oh, good god, he was so warm. Warm and wearing nothing but a single layer of cotton, and he smelled fresh and perfumy and clean, and at the moment the thought of stuffing as much of Sir Pentious into his mouth as he could fit and ripping out a chunk was wildly appealing.

It took him a moment to register what Sir Pentious had actually said. "I'm starving, too." *Part* of what Sir Pentious had said.

Sir Pentious

Telly opened one of the boxes and flicked his tongue to sniff. Oh, that smelled good. He didn't even bother with a plate, taking a slice and swallowing it whole-- as a snake normally would, but that just looked odd for someone who was normally so prim and proper. He took another slice and this time bit it, y'know, like a normal human being. After swallowing his bite, he spoke.

"So, tell me about the audition, how did it go? I saw the outfit you wore, it was very bad, but in a very you way, I adored it!" He let out a Pentious Cackle.

Alastor

Oh wow. Never mind, maybe what Alastor wanted was to be stuffed inside Sir Pentious's mouth.

He opened a second box—helpfully labeled "SOYLENT ;)" in marker—and grabbed a slice for himself. "Oh, *right!* Why, for a moment there I nearly forgot what we were celebrating, what with the"—singing and hugging—"pizza and all."

Alastor had been congratulated a moment ago, hadn't he? "Thank you—apparently it went well! Hah! I wasn't sure it would! The casting director was impressed by my performing abilities and my resume—but not my performing *style.* It's a... are you familiar with *rap?* Most of the show is rap. My natural instinct is to go a little too melodic. There's a couple of songs I'm not sure *how* I'm going to do." He looked nervous for a split second; but only that long, and then the look was gone. "But if I was good enough for him, that's good enough for me! We've got plenty of rehearsals, we'll make it work."

Sir Pentious

Rap! Oh yes he'd heard a few rap songs, even liked a couple! He nodded. "Yes, that does seem outside your normal range, but I'm sure you can find a way to do it! You are the most skilled performer I know, Alastor."

He's purring now, and taking another bite of pizza. God, he really was hungry right now, how had he not noticed earlier? "I'm very excited to see you on stage! You'll get to show all of Hell a whole new side to the Radio Demon! Or maybe, just a slightly different songs-- it's not like anyone who knows you isn't already aware that you love musical theater!"

He chuckled. Telly folded the rest of the pizza slice in half before swallowing it down like the first. He really was too hungry right now. "I'm certain that the speed of these raps won't be a problem for you-- is it just the style you're worried about?"

Alastor

"Hah! Don't know many performers, do you?" He tilted his head dismissively, like he was ducking the compliment. "I'm better than most, sure—but half of that's because I've got my own traveling band. That's not going to be the case up on the stage, it'll be just me. And by myself, among a whole cast of professional musical theater actors? I'm just the guy who got turned down by every show in New York for three years straight." He clucked his tongue. "But, here I am. I don't know if standards are that much lower in Hell than they were in New York, or if I got that much better—but I hope it's the latter."

Oh, the *thought* of getting to show that side to Hell—of being up on the stage, all spotlights on him, drowned in thunderous applause... Don't mind him if he stares off into the distance for a moment as applause faintly plays, he's fantasizing. Sorry, what were they talking about? "Sure! Anyone who knows me won't be surprised—but how many people know me? Everyone else in Hell will be meeting me for the first time!" He desperately hoped it made a difference.

"Oh, the speed's no problem—the fastest song in the show goes like so—" He played a clip from one song, "—*I'm takin' this horse by the reins makin' Redcoats redder with bloodstains*—" then cut back in and picked up where it left off, "And I've got no trouble keeping up, 'And I'm never gonna stop until I make them drop and burn them up and scatter their remains,' see." He did indeed sing it just as fast as the recording—but that was the thing, he was definitely singing it, setting the lyrics to a mostly monotone tune. It didn't sound bad, but it definitely stood out as Not Rapping.

Sir Pentious

He blinked at the speed of that-- wow it really was fast! He'd never be able to sing that, certainly. But Alastor definitely could and Telly leaned closer as he did. Hm, yes, there was that tune to it.

"Well, perhaps all you need is to practice? It's something new, you're not going to be perfect at it straight off the bat." He leaned closer and playfully blelele'd against his ear. Oh, wait, was that weird? He pulled back and went back to eating. Monch monch.

"It's like...swimming or engineering or even singing normally, it's a skill you'd have to develop, right?"

Alastor

Oh, tongue flick. He hoped his ear smelled okay. Of course it did, why wouldn't his ear smell okay? He took a bite of his pizza, he'd hardly eaten so far.

"Sure," he sighed. "Can I develop it before opening night, though—that's the question! What I'd like best is if we could tweak the songs a little to mesh with *my* style—but then getting that to mesh back into the *show's* style will take time and practice, too, so I've got to decide which it's going to be soon enough that we can figure it out before opening night... The director might come down hard one way or the other and settle the matter, but what if they're too nervous to give me direction because I'm the Radio Demon?" He flung up a hand. "It will be fine, I'm sure it will be fine. I know. But I don't like the waiting. Anyway, if the whole show crashes and burns, at least it'll be fun to watch." He already had a plan B, apparently.

Sir Pentious

"Maybe you'd just need to workshop it a little? Try it out different ways and see if the director likes it?" There WAS that intimidation factor of him being the Radio Demon. "I don't know what to do about the reputation part of it, unfortunately, that's a conundrum."

His head tilted, and he swallowed down another slice. Whole. There he goes. And he's picking up another slice.

"Perhaps having a one on one talk with the director to ensure them that you won't kill them for simply doing their job?"

Alastor

"That's probably what we're going to do. And see how it goes from there, I suppose."

And there went another slice, down the hatch. Was Sir Pentious even tasting them? Alastor finished his first (!) slice and grabbed a second.

"I'm going to be having talks like that for *weeks.* With the director, with the other actors, with the crew backstage—in groups, individually, in public, in private... I'm bringing a cake and my best sweet-and-innocent face to our first rehearsals."

Sir Pentious

"That's a good idea! Just try to be as non-threatening as possible." He shrugged a bit, taking a bite this time.

"If you want help practicing or running lines, or whatnot, I would be very willing to help with that." He smiled. "Oh!" He moved to the sink and turned on the tap, looking proud of himself. "The water's fixed! And the heat too! The warehouse is also almost done being repaired, though I'm sure that people have seen the swarming eggs and know I'm here now. I should probably look into moving soon, or hire some guards."

Alastor

"That's the plan! If everything works out, by our third rehearsal session they'll be wondering whether all the rumors about the Radio Demon were complete hogwash!" Assuming none of them had met him before. Ooh, maybe they'd met him during his brief foray into the theater scene in the seventies, he'd made a good impression on a few people then, hadn't he? He could hope.

"With Valera in the show and Charlie falling all over herself with excitement that I've picked up an activity that doesn't end in bloodshed, I think I'm fine on practice partners." Especially considering that *all* the lines were music, and mostly very fast music. "But I'll be more than happy to come by and show off in front of you!"

He played a round of applause for the demonstration of running water. "You have other warehouses you can move to, I hope?"

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I do. I just need to get the airship mobile before I can do that. Or find a truck capable of taking it somewhere else." He sighed and moved back next to Alastor. Telly finished the slice in his hand and then got another one. Why yes, he was that hungry.

"I'd love for you to show off for me, though. It'll be my first experience with the musical! I haven't gotten my hands on a copy yet." He shrugged a bit.

Alastor

Telly was already on his fifth slice. Alastor was glad he’d gotten three pizzas. “Or find an incredibly powerful friend capable of opening a portal big enough to transport an airship through?” Look at that sweet smile.

“Oh! The hotel has a copy, we could watch it together!” Too presumptuous? “Or I could—send it to you, whichever you prefer.”

Sir Pentious

"I would love to watch it with you, Alastor. Who better than one who's going to be in it?" He grinned, nibbling at this slice. "We can make a night of it! It'll be fun!"

He hummed. "Would it be alright for you to transport something so large? And would I need to brace anything within the airship or without?"

Alastor

*Movie night.* Oh, that sounded delightful. “We’ll call it part of my practice! I can get up and perform my parts for you.” And spend the rest of the time in Telly’s coils... He liked coiling around Alastor, right? He sure seemed like he did. That’d be fine.

“Why, sure, not a problem! Just buy me dinner.” Speaking of dinner—he finished of his second slice and grabbed a third. “Brace it the way you would for any other transport. I can open the portal underneath, so gravity can do most of the work—but I presume you don’t want it to go into free fall. Might be best if you set up some cranes or whatnot to lower it through a little more gracefully. And of course, it’s going to be passing through my friends’ dimension. It shouldn’t be a problem, but if I were you I’d keep the doors locked just in case.”

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded, humming a a bit. "Yes, I'll need to make some preperations before we were to move it then. We don't want it becoming _more_ damaged after all."

He nibbled more at his pizza, and smiled. "Thank you for coming over, Alastor. You always make my day better when you do." Oh no, was that too much? He cleared his throat and looked away. "So, ah, when would you want to watch Hamilton? I would be 'down' for whenever."

Alastor

There was a burst of interference noise as Alastor’s heart lodged itself somewhere in his throat. He swallowed it back down with half a slice of pizza. “And it’s always my *greatest* pleasure to do so! You make for fine company, my friend!” He resisted the urge to lay it on even thicker. “I’ll have to find out when rehearsals are starting up and what that schedule looks like—oh, and Mardi Gras is coming up, I *must* find out when all the parades are this year—so I’ll let you know once I know when I’m free!” He laughed, “I’m not used to having a schedule!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, Mardi Gras! Yes, the Alastor here gets very excited about that too!" He laughed a bit. "I didn't know about it before I met him, but it all seems like fun!"

He leaned his elbow on the table and then his chin on his hand. "You're becoming a busy man, just hope you'll have time for me. It'd be nice to still see you, every now and again."

Alastor

“Of course I’ll have time for you!” He reached out to grab Telly’s hand. “You don’t think I’m the kind of man who’d abandon his friends just because I caught a hint of medium-level semi-stardom, do you? If I get so busy I don’t have time to visit you, then I’m dragging *you* along to visit *me.*” He registered, belatedly, that holding Telly’s hand meant he was also holding Telly’s pizza. He politely relinquished his grip. Ahem. “Maybe Mardi Gras is a good opportunity for that! Have you ever been? I can’t take you to *everything,* but the parades are all public! And maybe one of the balls that doesn’t need an invitation—“ Did he just invite Telly to a dance.

Sir Pentious

"I went one year with the Alastor here-- it's terribly loud with so many people, but it was fun too." He smiled, and didn't seem to mind when Alastor grabbed his hand and pizza. He even, rather pointedly, still brought the slice up for another bite.

"We never went to a ball, though, that sounds like fun. Oh!" He seemed to light up. "Would we get to wear costumes? Would it be like a masquerade? I do miss those, all the vibrant costumes and the intricate masks!" He sighed dreamily, then blinked, straightening a bit and looking a little abashed.

"Well, good, though-- I can't exactly pop open a portal to come to you, so this will only work with your continued interest," He said, laughing, but there was certainly a bitter tinge to it.

Alastor

“Oh, some of the balls are snobbish black tie affairs—the only costuming is rich people trying to look like even richer people.” He scoffed. “At the *good* ones, though—costumes are *highly* encouraged, masks and all. I never go without a mask—ha, as if anyone would talk to me if I did!”

He heard that bitterness. His hand crept back over to... he’ll go with Sir Pentious’s wrist this time. “If I’ve got anything to say about it, you’ll never have to worry about that.” Maybe there was a way he could give Telly his own way to open up portals to come visit...

Sir Pentious

His heart clenched at that touch, those words. How he wished he didn't have the little voice whispering in the back of his head saying that it wasn't true. But this wasn't Leclerq, this was different. This Alastor hadn't hurt him, and he looked so earnest right now...

Telly took a breath, looking away a moment, his chin coming off his hand so it could cover Alastor's. "I know, I'm sorry-- it's nothing that has to do with you, just....old worries raising their heads again. Things that I have no reason to ascribe to you. Thank you, for reassuring me, though, Alastor. And I'd love to coordinate costumes with you for the actual good balls." His smile returned now, a bit more genuine and much more warm.

Alastor

“No need to apologize! I’m not a figure that inspires trust, I know that. I’ll just have to keep saying it until it sounds believable, won’t I?” He’d say it for decades if he had to.

His eyes lit up and he squeezed Telly’s wrist excitedly. “Oh—I’ve never coordinated costumes with someone before!” He looks like a kid who’s been handed a dollar in a penny candy store.

Sir Pentious

Telly sat up straighter and his face brightened again. "Oh, yes, it's sso much fun! We can pick a theme and find a tailor and--" He cut himself off his face screwing up momentarily.

"Though all the onesss I know are rather too expensssive consssidering I ssstill have to pay for all thisss." He gestured to the airship around them. "Damn angelsss," He muttered.

Alastor

“We can get pre-made costumes and tweak ‘em a little. And Rosie can help! She’s a regular sorceress with a sewing machine!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh! We'd need to find ones that aren't cheaply made, you know how they love to mass produce everything nowadays. Sacrificing quality for quantity..." He shook his head and sighed. Telly's face turned shy and laughed softly.

"I actually have never met Rosie, if you can believe it. Not even when Alastor and I--" He cut himself off. Nope, not going to start digging into that right now. He'd _just_ pushed those feelings aside. "Anyway, I haven't met her, but I'd be happy to do so with an introduction from you."

Alastor

"I *know,* the cheap polyester things that aren't even hemmed properly!" He shook his head while his invisible audience booed disapproval. "No, we'll have none of that cheap Halloween fare! We'll be going for theater costumes and rental costumes, the high quality products! I know some *wonderful* little claustrophobic holes in the wall—clothing racks packed so tightly you can hardly move between them, jewelry and decorations arranged in rainbow order down the length of an entire wall, an entire room dedicated just to masks, dressing rooms the size of closets and restrooms smaller than the dressing rooms, no two costumes alike in the whole store! It's going to be such fun!" He was practically bouncing in his seat.

Sir Pentious

His excitement was infectious and it had Telly nearly bouncing on his coils too. "Oh, yes, that does sound like fun! I've never done anything like that, I've always had my things bespoke from a tailor's or given as gifts. But I do wonder what we can find hidden like jewels in the depths!"

As he's nearly vibrating, he slithered around the table, getting ready to put the boxes in the fridge. "Are you done eating? I want to show you how much I've gotten done! But first the leftovers need to go into the icebox."

Alastor

"Oh, hold on!" He grabbed two more slices and stuffed them in his mouth. "Don't put them in the icebox in their boxes, that'll dry them out and the leftovers won't last as long! You want them in cling wrap or a ziplock." Mr. Foodie over here getting fussy over food he didn't even make. "Careful with mine, it's got people on it. Do you eat people?" He didn't think they'd discussed it before, had they?

Sir Pentious

"I eat what I can get my hands on." Oh, he said that too fast and that was a bit too honest. So he's going to busy himself looking for something suitable. "I think I have some cling wrap in here somewhere..."

Alastor

Oh, that was heartbreaking. "Then my leftovers are yours!" He leaned on a counter to wait while Telly searched. "We'll see about finding costumes and then visit Rosie if they need altering. She'll be pleased to meet any friend of mine—especially one willing to dine in the Cannibal Colony! Just don't mind her if she gets a bit... tease-y."

Sir Pentious

"Tease-y?" He looked at Alastor as he finally fished out the roll of cling wrap. He offered it to Alastor-- he didn't really like the stuff, but hey, if it kept the pizza fresher longer....

Alastor

He started wrapping up slices in little stacks of three at a time. "She's noticed my tendency to befriend every snake I cross paths with and has taken to poking fun at me for it, that's all." She also heartily disapproved. She was convinced it was just going to keep ending in heartbreak, and wasn't impressed with Alastor for becoming the kind of person who'd do that to himself. But surely she'd be courteous to Sir Pentious himself.

Sir Pentious

"Ah, I see." He nodded. "I suppose your relationship is one of those vitriolic friendships, where you tease one another? Or am I assuming wrong again?" His eyes narrowed as he thought.

Alastor

"I can't stand vitriolic friendships. Just enemies who smile at each other—and I have enough of those. No no—at most, harmless friendly banter, and even that's rare." And powered not by vitriol but by concern, worry disguised under jokes.

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded. "Yes, I, too, do not like that. I have enough enemies, but most don't smile anymore, just laugh in my face." Said face twisted into a hateful expression before he sighed and relaxed. He started putting the finished packets of three slices into the frige-- one of those really old kinds with the handle in the middle.

Alastor

"I've got one or two like that. I've found the best way to deal with them is to ignore them completely. Let them stew unhappily in your lukewarm indifference!"

Sir Pentious

His head tilts and he frowns a bit. "People dare to laugh in _the_ Radio Demon's face?" He hummed. "They either must be brave or stupid. Or both. But unfortunately, I don't think I have a talent for indifference."

Alastor

"Powerful," Alastor said. "And stupid, but that's unrelated." A shrug. "Indifference is a skill! It can be practiced. But step one is 'keep smiling'—and I'm afraid you're very expressive, my friend."

Sir Pentious

And Alastor's point is proven when his face scrunches again. "Yes, it's always been a problem, even when I was alive." He let out a huffy sigh, putting the rest of the pizza packets in the fridge before closing it. His arms crossed. "I don't think I've ever been able to control my expression..."

Alastor

"In your case, you might have an easier time practicing an equally valuable skill." He smiled maliciously. "Teach people to fear the sight of your displeasure."

Sir Pentious

He blinked, and then that patented Evil Pentious Grin slid over his face. "You know, Alastor, I think you're right." Telly laughed, that evil laugh that Alastor loved, and then put his hands on his hips, his chest puffing.

"Which the repairs to my airship will help accomplish! Come, come, let's go to the bridge! I want to show you how good it looks now."

Alastor

Oh, *there* was a glimpse of that villainous megalomania Alastor so adored. He gestured grandly. "Lead away!"

Sir Pentious

And lead he does! Through the bedroom-- which, if Alastor will notice, looks much more put together than before and there's a special place on the coat hanger for the leviathan leather belt he'd gotten Telly-- and then up the ramp to the bridge. Look! No glass on the floor now! Everything's clean and dusted and in order. Telly beelines it for the organ, and presses a key. There isn't the normal organ drone, but it DOES tink like a piano key.

"I UPGRADED A BIT! I FIGURED WHILE IT WAS OUT OF ORDER, I COULD ADD A FEW MORE INSTRUMENTS TO THE ORGAN'S REPERTOIRE!"

Alastor

He spared a passing glance to the bedroom, picking up random details as he hurried by—including the belt, oh, that warms his dead heart—but not slowing down as they hurried on to the bridge. What was Sir Pentious so eager to show off? A completely overhauled bridge? Glowing hologram projections, perhaps? Additional weaponry?

He was not expecting “an organ with a piano hidden inside it.” Somehow that was more outlandish than anything else he’d expected.

“*You what.*” Alastor was fighting not to laugh in delight. He took a seat and tried a couple of random keys on separate keyboards—were all of the keyboards outfitted as pianos now?

Sir Pentious

Telly was downright delighted by Alastor's reaction. Only the main, lowest set, keyboard made the piano sounds. The other two still sat dead.

"YES! I wanted it to have more versatility, and I thought, why not? A piano has keys, and so does an organ, it was simple enough to fit them together!" He laughed, slithering behind Alastor. He placed his hands on his shoulders, before leaning close over him to press a few keys.

"At least it can be played now, until the pipes for the rest of it is fixed!"

Alastor

He momentarily stiffened in shock when Sir Pentious leaned behind him and placed his hands on Alastor’s shoulders, instantly distracted by being *loomed over,* hyper aware of the hands on his shoulders. He shook off the feeling and quickly leaned forward to try out the piano, hoping that Telly wouldn’t notice the momentary tension.

He ran a few quick arpeggios to see how it sounded; then, on a spur of the moment decision, launched into a familiar blues bassline—familiar to him, anyway. After getting into the rhythm of it, he started singing: “‘So what’d I miss? What’d I miss?’—this is one of my songs—‘Virginia, my home sweet home, I wanna give you a kiss...’”

Sir Pentious

He did notice the tension, his hand feeling it in Alastor's shoulder, but he didn't say anything. Instead he moved to the side, where the violins were kept, his head tilting as he listened to the music.

"That ones seems very _you_! It's very jazzy." He hummed along as he opened the panel to retrieve one of the instruments. He propped it on his shoulder, taking another few moments to listen before he joined the melody. He wasn't sure if this song had violin originally, but it did now!

Alastor

Alastor’s grin widened when Sir Pentious started playing along. There hadn’t been violin where Sir Pentious happened to be playing, but he was the last person who’d complain about an impromptu addition to a spontaneous musical number.

He played through to the point where his part ended and some other as-yet-unknown actor was supposed to pick up the song—“‘He grabs my arm and I respond, what’s going on?’”—then cut it off with a glissando and a flourish. “*That’s* the song that convinced me I want to be in this show.”

Sir Pentious

Telly finished his bit with a vibrato and then lowered the violin. "I can see why! It's definitely in your wheelhouse. I like it."

He put the violin back and shut the panel again, slithering back to sit on his coils near Alastor. "I look forward to hearing your other songs, as well." He sat up, remembering the real reason they'd come to the bridge. "Oh! Yes! So, I have the water fixed, plumbing is coming along, no leaks so far. Electricity is back up and running, so the heat is back as well! The outer areas are being repaired nicely and quickly, and soon we'll be able to start adding the pipes for the organ and the tanks back in!" He ticked all of these off on his fingers.

Alastor

“And it’s even better in context! Much darker.”

He turned to straddle the bench and look at Telly directly as he spoke. Water, plumbing, electricity—it struck him as odd that heat was a higher priority than air conditioning, in Hell of all places, but then the air was colder higher up, wasn’t it? Was it cold enough to require heating? Or did Telly just get cold that easily? “Sounds like you’re coming right along! You’ll have this bird back up in the sky in no time.”

Sir Pentious

"Indeed! I hope that it will be sky-worthy again in at least a few months! That is, as long as I don't get distracted by other ideas and projects, but at least the Eggs will keep up with it, even if I am not actively working on it!" He laughed again.

"But so far, there's now MORE outside the bridge! Come, see!" He gestured for Alastor to follow and went over to a closed set of doors-- which opened to a rather plain looking, but functioning, hallway. After about fifty yards, it dropped off suddenly, with scaffolding and some Eggs continuing the repairs. "Obviously, all the flourishes aren't added back in yet, but function before fashion is the name of the game currently!"

Alastor

“What a pity, being so beholden to pragmatism!” He shook his head in sympathy. “Does the hallway lead anywhere interesting yet, or is it a spine without ribs at this point?”

Sir Pentious

"Exactly that-- spine without ribs, buuuut..." He trailed off, leading to the edge and leaning out to peek over. "Down there, you can see the tanks being rebuilt!"

Alastor

“Are these the water and toilet tanks?” He leaned over to see for himself, a bit farther than necessary. Don’t worry, he’s got great balance.

Sir Pentious

"Yes! Currently the water's hooked into the city lines, but once those are done, I'll be able to unhook it without loosing water access." He pulled back, a smirk on his lips.

"Would you like to see them up close?" He asked his hand reaching out to grasp a pole that looked sturdier than the rest of the scaffolding. It stretched all the way down to where the in construction tanks sat, looking like something from a fire station.

Alastor

It looked *very much* like something from a fire station. The temptation was irresistible. “Absolutely!” He grabbed the pole and slide down it, spinning around it as he went.

Sir Pentious

"Oh!" Telly laughed when Alastor slid down and waited until he reached the bottom before grabbing on himself. He twirled the end of his tail around it for support and down he went. The tour continued!

TDOE... something. I’m way off

It’s “Scales” today, but I’m so far behind, I’m just posting even if it’s not related to the prompt. I actually was going to use this for Elsarik week 2020, but that clearly NEVER happened. So I get to post it now.

I mean, Alarik under anesthesia. What’s not to love? As always, he, and Neta belong to @patricia-von-arundel. I just air him out now and again.

@bepoets, can you find TWW reference? ;)

Rating: G

Flirt

Anna found Elsa, still wearing a paint-splattered shirt- it must have been craft day in the classroom- sitting in a folding chair, staring at the empty space where the room's hospital bed should have been. Anna pulled up another chair and sat down next to her.

"I'm going to kill him." Elsa gritted out.

"Please don't. It took long enough for the two of you to get together. Plus, I refuse to explain to Neta why her uncle isn't visiting her anymore."

That was enough to pull Elsa's gaze away from the wall. She gave Anna a weak smile, and accepted the embrace her sister offered. 

"You okay?" Anna asked when they pulled apart.

"That really depends on your definition of 'okay'."

"Elsa." 

"What do you want me to say, Anna? My idiot husband decides he's going to climb up a rock wall to collect a specimen without the proper climbing equipment, falls, and breaks his leg. But does he call 9-1-1? No! He gets one of his assistants to drive him an hour to the hospital. An hour. And do you know how I find out? He calls me, while in the car, and tells me he 'hurt himself' and is going to get his leg 'checked out'. Nevermind that it's swollen to twice it's normal size or that there's a bulge in the middle of his leg. But, it's fine, he doesn't need immediate medical attention for that!"

She slumped forward with a groan. "And this happens in the middle of the day, with my students elbow-deep in paint, and I have to leave them to come here. It's just…" 

Elsa made a frustrated noise, and Anna placed an arm around her shoulder. Before anything could be said, they were interrupted by the sound of a bed being wheeled in.

"Mrs. Geatland?" 

Elsa stood up so quickly the chair she'd been in nearly toppled over. On the bed, Alarik was almost lost in a cocoon of blankets, with only his head sticking out. His skin was extremely pale- even for him, and his face tense with pain. Nevertheless, he managed a weak smile and a soft "Hello, Darling". 

Elsa shot him a glare before turning to the nurse and doctor flanking his bed. "What did he manage to do to himself?"

The doctor, a sturdy-looking woman with dark, curly hair, smiled sympathetically. "I'm Doctor Barlett," she extended her hand and Elsa took it briefly, "and unfortunately, based on the x-rays, Alarik has sustained fractures on his tibia and fibula- the long bones of the lower leg- that are going to require surgery to repair." 

Dr. Barlett went over to the lightbox and flipped it on, placing an x-ray image on its surface. The X-ray showed a clear break in both bones, with part of the tibia pressing against the outside of the skin. "We are going to drill into the tibia to insert a rod for stabilization, and place a plate on the fibula. With that and physical therapy, Alarik's outlook for recovery is very good. I do need you to go over some forms with Leisel, Mrs. Geatland," she indicated to the nurse at her side, "and then we'll prep him for surgery. You can walk with him to the theater and we'll set you up in the waiting area." 

Elsa looked almost as pale as Alarik did, but she nodded, leaned down to press her forehead against his before following Leseil to the computer. As soon as she was out of sight, Alarik motioned frantically towards Anna. She raised an eyebrow and came over to his side, leaning in close. 

“Anna, I’m scared.”

She took his hand. "Hey, that's normal. Surgery is-"

"No, not the surgery. Okay, maybe a little bit, but I'm really scared of what happens afterwards."

"Do you mean not waking up? Alarik, you're perfectly healthy, and-"

"No, what if I wake up and the anesthesia messes with my brain? And I start…" he looked around fearfully before lowering his voice "flirting with a nurse or doctor?"

Anna squinted. "Wait, what? You're going into surgery after a major break, and you're worried about flirting with the hospital staff?"

"Not so loud! Yes! Elsa doesn't deserve that! I've already put her through so much- I can't have my mind thinking it's okay to sweet-talk with someone else! She's my wife! The woman I love!" Alarik threw his head back into the pillow.

"Right now, I'm going to guess whatever pain meds they have you on are already messing with you. But look, if that actually becomes a problem, I'll take care of it then. Not sure how, but I'll figure it out."

Alarik lifted his hand, extending his pinkie. "Promise?"

Anna gripped it with her own, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "I promise, you dork."

………….

Several long hours later, Elsa and Anna were ushered back to a recovery room after being told Alarik's surgery was successful. 

"He's still coming off of the anesthesia, so he may not make the most sense at the moment." Leisel explained as she led them back. "Here we go." 

She pushed open the room door, revealing Alarik, sporting a bulky new cast, resting on the bed, his eyes closed. "I'll be back in a bit to check up on him." Leisel closed the door behind her, and they went over to the bed. Elsa picked up Alarik's hand.

"Hello, Alarik."

His face scrunched up, relaxed, and he slowly opened his eyes. He blinked, his gaze bleary, before looking over at Elsa and grinning widely.

"Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

"Gooooood." Alarik’s gaze flitted around the room, before landing back on Elsa. He squinted. "Hey, are you here to take care of me?" 

She chuckled, brushing a stray curl away from his forehead. "Yes, of course."

She wasn't sure how he could grin any more, but he did. "Niiiiice. I like that. I like that a lot. You're really beautiful. I mean, I bet you already know that, but you're gorgeous. If you were my wife, I'd be telling you that every day. Why are you laughing? I like that laugh."

Elsa put her hand to her mouth, struggling to contain her growing mirth. "You goose, I am your wife." She brought their hands together so that he could see the rings. "See?"

His eyes went wide and he shot upright with his mouth hanging open. "Wait, we're married!? How!?"

Now there was no chance of holding back her laughter. "The usual way, of course. You proposed, I said yes, and we had a wedding." Behind her, Anna cackled.

"You forgot the part where he broke his wrist trying to propose to you." Anna added. 

"I did?" Alarik lifted his hands, turning them over before dropping them and blinking at Anna. "Are you here to take care of me too?"

Anna grinned, making no attempt to hide the phone she was holding up to record him. "Sort of. I'm Anna. Elsa's sister. Your sister-in-law."

Alarik grinned. "You seem fun."

Anna bent double, her sides heaving as she howled with laughter. Alarik giggled along- a surprisingly high-pitched giggle, which only made Anna laugh all the harder. 

"You two." Elsa sighed, but she couldn't suppress her own smile. Eventually Anna calmed down, and Alarik snapped his head back to Elsa, as if remembering something.

“Wait, do we have kids?”

Elsa's gaze took on a faraway look, and her hands twined together. Eventually, she answered him in a voice so soft it was barely audible.

"Not… not yet. But… soon."

"Soon?"

Elsa stood, turning sideways, and pulled her blouse tight, displaying the small swell in her middle. "About four months from now."

Alarik's face was euphoric. “We’re… we’re going to have a baby!? Oh, that’s… that’s just… Oh my God…” His eyes were wet. “Did you hear that, Anna? I get to have a baby with this incredible, amazing, darling woman, and…” He broke down, tears streaming down his face.

“Yup.” Anna responded over his growing sobs. “You did pretty much the same exact thing the first time Elsa told you.”

“Alright,” Elsa said, pressing Alarik back into the bed. Her own eyes were suspiciously wet as well. “I think this is your way of telling me you need some rest now. We can talk when you’re more lucid. Get some rest.”

Alarik’s eyes were already at half-mast, and he was clearly drained from crying. “Okay. Will you stay with me?”

She smiled, pushing away the curls from his forehead. “Of course. Now, get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

Alarik grinned, his eyelids slipping shut. “‘Niiiight.” 

“Goodnight” Elsa and Anna chorused. Within moments, he was fast asleep, snoring gently. 

Elsa looked over at her sister. “Please, for the love of all things good and holy, tell me you got that all on video.”

Anna grinned and flashed her a thumbs-up. 

Imposed Fate

Imposed Fate A Count Duckula Story

Chapter 1. Prelude of a Nightmare

       One fateful date, Tuesday 7 April 1870, Richter Von Gosling, a student of the arts of healing, decided to visit Transylvania in order to shed light upon a mysterious and disquieting subject, which was a case of vampirism. Legends and stories about the undead had the young scholar read before, yet he remained  sceptical, until his colleague and confidant Reinfelt witnessed an attack by one of those creatures, and not an ordinary one but Count Duckula himself, a feudal Lord supposed to be dead centuries ago. Despite of the absurdity of the notion, Richter was not to doubt his friend; therefore, he had to investigate in more detail about this terrible menace and put it to rest.

   The evening of Gosling's arrival, a thunderstorm loomed above the village, the weather cold and windy but rain was not to fall yet. Not a soul could be found wandering on the streets, there was a sense of quietude, a preface of the storm that soon would be unleashed over the town. Despite the feeling of impeding peril, inside the public house 'Ye Tooth and the Jugular' the mood appeared to be festive, with the regular crowd assembled for a pint or two, regardless the tragedies of life. In this place, the scholar found refuge as well as some more information concerning the malevolent aristocrat provided by the innkeeper and the parishioners. Gosling thought the recently gained knowledge would be enough to prepare a scheme to destroy the vampire.

    During the following days, the scientist worked in the development of a mechanism designed to shoot a wooden stake but cleverly set inside a camera. When the contraption was completed, the gander headed towards Castle Duckula, an ominous fortress that oversaw the village from atop a hill. Presenting himself as a photographer from a newspaper, Gosling attempted to gain access to the castle and destroy the Count; these actions would end the suffering of the villagers and bring peace to Transylvania. No time was wasted once he entered the Castle. Introductions were quick, the battle between Count Duckula and Von Gosling finished as quickly as it started and not even Igor -faithful manservant of the undead Count- was able to interfere. However, due the thrilling sensation of triumph, the scientist returned to the town without realizing that the stake managed to harm Duckula, but it failed to stab through the Count's heart.

    "Got him, the vampire is destroyed! ..." Exclaimed the deluded scholar as he rushed his way back to the village bellow, eager to tell what he assumed to be good news. "... The beast is no more!"

     Meanwhile, the Count lied motionless on the stone ground. Igor knelt beside his defeated master, lifting the wounded vampire on both his arms. "... Master, Master! ..." The old vulture sobbed in anguish, fearing this to be the last hour.

   "... Is all right, Igor! …" Duckula replied as he rose to his feet, dusting and straightening his suit jacket. Praised the Abyss, his Lordship was not slaughter, much to Igor's relief. "It was just a mere scratch …" The Count added with anger on his raspy voice. "... But he shall pay for this ... he shall pay!" He growled and proceeded to concentrate his energy in order to cast a spell. "... Come here, to my aid, oh winds of north, I summon your powers---…"

   "Milord... if I may be so bold to provide advice... I must remind his Lordship that the appropriate way to conjure for the assistance of this element, Sire, would be quite simpler: ‘come gust of wind and be wild’… Brief but no less effective, of course" Igor admonished his Master on the proper casting of dark incantations.

   "Thank you Igor, I had almost failed to remember that part … Anyway, you had already cast the spell, so you have heard it wind, obey our demand and be wild!" With that, the Count cackled with cruel glee, an aura appeared to surround his frame and a red spark was ignited on both his eyes, like flames of fire as he began to transform, while outside the fortress, gust of heavy wind gathered to form a dreadful tempest.

   Oblivious of the dangers ahead, Gosling stormed into the tavern. "… Is done!--- The vampire--- destroyed! ..." The gander addressed the landlord, though he was out of breath and could barely articulate a word.

    "What do you mean, young man?" The perplexed innkeeper questioned, while three peasants seated on a corner enjoying their last drink of the night, just had to listen and stare with curiosity.

    "… ... What I am trying to say is that the vampire fiend is no more!---..." Gosling recomposed before resuming his speech in a serious tone. "... The Count now rests in peace, finally there would be no more suffering ... is over." He softly stated, honestly believing that evil was successfully vanquished.

   A tense silence filled the inn until one of the peasants reacted. "... That is impossible!" He muttered in disbelief. "… Count Duckula defeated, requiring no effort?!" Added the landlord in dismay. "Yes, on the times past, I know the tale, the vampire was destroyed... but he was cornered by a group of vampire slayers! When we talked about the Count, I never thought you would attempt something so stupid, what have you done, lad?!"

   Gosling was completely appalled, realising something must have gone wrong and to learn that the Count was previously overcame, then who was this Duckula he had just met?! However, before the scholar was able to find his voice, the farmer seated near the window screamed in fear. "He is leaving the Castle! ..." Every fowl residing at the hostelry turned to the window. They saw the rainstorm and a giant bat flying from the castle in direction of the village. In matter of few minutes, chaos settled on the town: the wind destroyed some of the houses, demolishing the roofs of the buildings. Duckula on his bat form attacked people running outside in a futile attempt to seek shelter from the storm; others tried to escape the wooden debris carried by the whirlwind, people cried in panic, the peaceful slumber of the village residents turned into a nightmare.

   "Where are you, my dear Gosling?! Not so brave to defeat me?! ..." The evil laugh from the Count could be heard amid the commotion. "... Come, come out to play, do not make me wait!"

    "I am afraid he is calling for you!" Exclaimed the innkeeper’s wife who stood on top of the staircase, from there she threw Gosling’s luggage; the two suitcases landed loudly at his feet. "If you have any respect for anything sacred, get out of my house! ..." She ordered furiously, pointing to the main door of the hostel. "... Away with you!"

   "Wait, please!--- I don't understand! …" Gosling stammered. "My intentions were honourable; I was only trying to be of aid!”

    "Yeah, thank you for your help, you just made everything worse for our village!" Retorted an angry peasant. "Why did you have to mess with the Count?! Now his wrath is unstoppable, he would go on rampage until sunrise and is all your fault!"

   "I did try to do something, while you appear to accept this fate without resistance, why you don't fight back? For what reason you would even stay in a place like this?!" Although the scientist's response came out with a hint of defiance, in truth there was guilt within his heart.

   "Because this is our home, foolish lad! …" Replied the proprietress without hesitation. "We shall not abandon our land! If someone has to leave, that would be you!”

   "Very well said, Madam! Now you, go away!" A peasant urged Gosling to walk out the inn. "Hope he eats you, better you than us!"

   "Came on folks…" The landlord interceded. "… Don’t be cruel with the outsider, he couldn't know any better, after all he is only a boy."

   "… Oh nein, I am not! I will show you, I … I shall stop that fiend at once!"

    "No, if you go out he will kill you!---..." The innkeeper warned but he was unheard. Von Gosling stepped out the tavern and the sight of destruction and the monstrous vampire bat, rendered him to freeze in fright. However, the landlord had followed him and he placed the travel cases on Gosling's hands. "Come on, son … I wish I never told you about the Count." He said with regret and grabbing the young doctor by the arm, he led him to the back door of the tavern despite protest of the parishioners but some of them were to agree on the fact that at the present it would be for the best to escape.

    "I don't care if this is the land where I was born!--- The stranger was right--- I don't want to die!" Despaired one of the farmers as he hurried out to prepare a cart and soon enough, several of the town's people had joined him. Before Gosling was able to object, the innkeeper pushed him inside the stagecoach. From above, Duckula witnessed these actions and he was utterly amused. The giant bat could deliver an attack directly towards the doctor, given how easy was to detect him due his antiquated attire and the camera he was carrying; still, he interfered not for he had mused a greater plan since the instant he laid his eyes on Von Gosling. "That mortal had come to face me--- he failed no doubt, but he arrived on his own choice ... or maybe was it a design of fate? ..." The creature growled quietly. "... Nevertheless, I detected on him no greed for a reward or a desire of fame, not even a wish for vengeance ... What a disgusting attitude! However ... Could it be?---.... ... I wonder... ..."

   In the meantime, the doctor was still unable to fathom the burden he would be carrying now that the threads of fate had been tampered with. ".... Sir., oh please I---... I thank you ..." Gosling at last found his voice to express gratitude to the innkeeper. "... I will be praying Gott for your souls until I am able to come back---..."

   "Prayers?! ... Don't trouble yourself, it would be of no use" Said one of the villagers, quietly and embittered. "... God have forgotten about us."

   "That cannot be true! I shall pray for you all, our Lord will never forget His children!" Gosling stated firmly as the cart began to move.

   "Well, then I pray God I will never see your face again … may He bless and keep you!" Von Gosling frowned in sadness, lowering his head upon hearing those last words from the proprietor of 'Ye Tooth and the Jugular', the man who had just saved his life.

   As the stagecoach departed from the village, Gosling silently stared at the silver cross pendant he had on his hands, a gift from his mother that now held a much more profound significance. "… So, they believe our Lord has forgotten, ja? ..." He lamented in shame and remorse; no matter his efforts or his courageous discourse, in the end he was left trembling with fear in times help was most needed, it was an absolute disgrace. "… … I am to return, this is not over yet--- this awful mistake must be corrected … I will be back; that fiend shall be destroyed, I am going to save all those souls ... is a promise!"

           Later, at the break of dawn, the Count had enough leisure time and his thirst was quenched, so he returned to his fortress. As expected, Igor was patiently waiting for his master's arrival. "Did you find that miserable mortal, Master?" Greeted the sinister butler.

    "Ah, I let him go …" Duckula replied calmly, tonelessly even, like if the latest episode were of no relevance.

   The vulture raised a brow with suspicion at the Count’s answer; after such an eventful evening, this behaviour from the master was something unforeseen. "… I am not sure, Sire … you should have taken the life of that wretched miscreant ... or perhaps brought him here to me, I could have offered that Gosling a most proper … … care."

   "Worry not, dear Igor." The Count spoke, a grin crept onto his beak. "... Amongst all the pleasant visitors we have received through these the years, this one had proven to be the most interesting opponent".

    "Oh indeed, Milord, Indeed! There is no use on finishing the fun so early …" Igor rubbed his hands in pleased anticipation of the delightfully wicked punishments he would be able to inflict over that insolent gander.

    "That is right; you got the idea, my Igor!" The Count chuckled darkly. "… He is coming back, I assure you, and I will be waiting …" Then, the vampire grabbed Igor by the necktie, pulling his head down to meet his gaze. "After all … ..." Duckula continued, lowering his voice into a threatening though gleeful snarl. "… We have plenty of time ... … … don’t we, Igor?!"

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This is the first chapter from an old fanfiction of mine I am re-writing (began in 2009, is 2020 not completed yet, only three chapters are ready), is an attempt to set a prequel for the Count Duckula series, based on the Dear Diary and The Rest is History episodes, a particular scene that appears on the show's intro, the Castlevania games and last but certainly not least, Dracula the novel. Posting it here now as an experiment given I have no idea how it would look like on Tumblr, and so happy to see fans of the series!

Count Duckula and the characters on this chapter belong to Cosgrove Hall.